#whatever. i’m gonna eat some jerky and say that’s enough for tonight

[t4tstarvingdog]

crying about a poem about grandfathers. i guess it is that kind of night

[askthiscpblog]

Masky x hoddy fluffyness

Hoodie and Masky never usually had a day together. Well, they spent every day together at the mansion, and they even lived together too. But it wasn’t something like this. For some reason, Slender decided to have them keep watch outside of the forests of his mansion for invaders. Ever since that raid happened, he has been paranoid about anyone coming to his Domain. A few people showed up between then and now though. The ghost girl did, he gathered Anon from his brother too, and got that cultist that summoned him up. It was a few people he was willing to trust in a short amount of time, shocking to the original duo.

Hoodie was sitting up in a tree looking out over the forest floor, gun in hand as he relaxed against the bark. It was a long night, and it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. But he didn’t care to be alone, the thoughts and feelings from that night come flooding back. Sometimes he felt needy to Masky about wanting to be around him. They had a good relationship with one another based on trust and mutual respect between them both. When he heard crunching footsteps drawing closer to him, Hoodie pulled out his gun to perch to get a better look.

“Hoods, it’s just me,” Masky called out, walking up under the tree where he was looking up. He had his mask on, he always had his mask on when on a mission.

“Well your footsteps sound the same as any other footsteps and you know it,” Hoodie responds, narrowing his eyes behind his mask. Most think he couldn’t see well behind it when in reality Slender altered it to enhance his vision and change his voice. It was like a video game, like how Snake in Metal Gear with his eye patch.

“Yeah, whatever,” he responds, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Like Jane, his mask can meld to his face to cover his features, but let him eat and drink. Kinda neat, and Hoodie was a little jealous at that fact.

“Those are gonna kill you.”

“Oh fuck off with that. I should have been dead long ago, and still, ain’t.”Hoodie looked away from his friend before letting out a held sigh and a long breath. “Anyways, why are you here? Your shift doesn’t start for a while.”

“Came to stir up shit. Wanna go to a fair that isn’t too far away? I hear it is pretty large and fun, and ain’t that expensive either.” Masky looked up at his friend with a grin that showed though his mask, a mischievous grin that he got when he knew he was going to get in trouble.

“And abandon our posts? Wouldn’t he get really irritated and mad, and take us to the punishment room?” Hoodie responded, interested but cautious about the entire thing. Why was it Masky did everything in his power to slight Slender in the smallest ways? Ugh.

“Who cares? No one has come in months since the raid, and it has been a long time since we went and did anything for ourselves without his leave. It will only be for a few hours anyway, the others can keep the place safe and we know it.” The masked man looked over towards the hooded one, knowing full well that he was right. It took everything in his power to not try and punch that smug look under that mask off of his face, but even then he also had to smile at the prospect.

“Fine, fine. Only for a few hours.” Hoodie responded, giving up his watch hopping to the ground from the tree. To them, it looked normal, to anyone else it was swift and deadly, unnatural to the eye with no jerky movements. It’s weird to think that they have grown so accustomed to being around supernatural creatures that the mundane was weird now.

Masky took off his mask, grinning all the while as he put out his cigarette onto a nearby tree. The tree was dark black, knotted and twisted, the bark as thick as a human finger, and rough as sandpaper. It wouldn’t light up, it has no way to catch fire by ordinary means. He put his mask on his belt, dropping his own jacket to cover it. Hoodie meanwhile only had to pull off his mask cover and pull down his hood, stuffing the former into his hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. His hand moved over towards his hip, feeling the hidden pocket that held his gun away from normal sight. It made him feel safe, better and knew he always had protection even if he was caught off guard again.

The duo started off out of the forest, it shifting around them. The dark trees that reached its finger-like branches towards a person gave way to a brighter, greener forest whose branches reached for the sky above. It was a welcome change, a change that meant that they were leaving behind a part of themselves to enjoy what is to come. A night of fun.

Something then struck Hoodie as this bliss ended. “What if we infect others? The sickness is still with us.”

Masky looked over to him, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What of the sickness? People go out all the time sick, and not a whole lot of people catch it. I think it could work the same way.”

“You sure about that?”

“We won’t be interacting with anyone long enough for them to catch it. Just enough to buy a soda or some garbage food.”

Hoodie rubbed the mark on the back of his neck, the symbol that was burned into his being by his boss upon coming back to life. He was uneasy with Masky’s reasoning, but it was simple as any. “I suppose so. Doubt you can call it a normal sickness.”

“It isn’t, but unless He wants to do anything in that amount of people, I don’t think anything bad will happen.” Masky knocked on the wood of a passing tree, trying to ward away the bad luck that he brought upon himself by saying those words.

“Anyways, you have money for this shit right?” Hoodie inquired, pulling out his own wallet as they walked. The two of them don’t get paid by Slender, they live for free with him in the Domain. But doing things like this still required money.

A cocky grin crossed the other man’s face, wide and true. He pulled out a rolled-up wad of cash to show that he had the dosh needed to have fun tonight, and then some. “Remember that rich fucker that tried to take us on a few weeks back? Decided to empty out some of his accounts after a bit of digging with BEN.”

Hoodie couldn’t help but grin and chuckle at that. Leave it to Masky to come up with answers to easy questions. It might not be moral, but they were not moral people themselves.

“Come on Brian, let’s go,” Masky took off into the woods, or rather out of the woods as they were getting to the edge of the treeline. Hoodie stood there, stunned at the name, and took off after his partner in crime trying to keep up. They were not going into their other mindsets with this? Really?

“M wait up!” It was the only thing he could think to say. Not Tim. M.

They walked for a little bit until the lights were bright in front of them. Hoodie and Masky smiled seeing the carnival fair thing in front of them. It was a small town one, those that come once or twice a year for families to enjoy. Perfect for the duo to have fun. Walking into the grounds, both looked for something to start off with.

“Let’s get the rides over with before the lines get too long and it gets too late,” Masky suggests, already dragging Hoodie over to wait in line for the roller coaster.

“You sure about this ride? It looks unsafe.” Hoodie asks, fiddling with the ends of his jacket sleeves to ease his nerves. He rubs the back of his neck, nervous again about being out and spreading the sickness to others. No one was going to catch it, they weren’t doing anything wrong. Hoodie knew he wasn’t a good person, but he didn’t wish to drag anyone else into this life unless he was ordered to.

“Everything here is and looks unsafe. We do worse for our jobs, and do scarier things.” Masky retorted, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with a grin.

“I guess you’re right…” It was mumbled, soft, and going with it because it was easy.

It wasn’t long for them to get to the front of the line. Masky paid for this ride, cheap as hell to them, expensive to anyone else. Getting into the front row, they were secure in place for the roller coaster.

Hoodie knew he was secure, but that didn’t get rid of the feeling in the pit of his stomach. The slow climb going up the ride made him panic, and he looked up into the air to avoid looking down at the ground. His heart was pounding in his chest, could hear his blood rushing through his ears as the tips of his fingers went numb. Closing his eyes was worse because that was when the coaster reached over the edge to drop.

The drop was the worst thing he felt in a long time. He didn’t mean to, but he opened his eyes again and saw the fall before him. He wasn’t on a roller coaster anymore, he was falling out of the window to his death again. Screaming at the top of his lungs, fear welled up in his eyes and voice as the high pitched shrill left his mouth. Masky had his hands up beside him, hooping and hollering enjoying the ride and thinking that his friend is too. He was oblivious to the true intentions and what was going on beside him.

When the ride stopped and they got off, it took almost most of Masky’s strength to peel Hoodie away from it. When he realized that he was not on the coaster anymore, he ran off to the side and puked, dropping to his knees afterward to retch one more, and again though his body didn’t have anything else.

“What the hell happened?” Masky asked, bringing a few napkins over to his friend.

“What the hell happened? What the hell happened!? I fucking had a flashback to the fall is what happened!” Hoodie shouted, turning to look up to his friend. Getting to his feet, he was much taller than his friend, but still scared.

Masky stood there looking up at Hoodie with a blank expression, the one he wore when dealing with Slender or anyone else he didn’t like. Which were most people, to be honest. His dark eyes studied his friend close, wondering if he was going to swing at him or not. No, he wouldn’t. It would draw too much attention to both of them, and that wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t know that would happen. How about I buy us some food and we won’t ride any more rides tonight unless you want to.” Masky responds, the blank expression cracking into a small hint of a smile.

Hoodie was shocked but happy all the same with this. “Thanks, and I mean it. I don’t feel like riding any more rides after that one. Maybe the gravatron but that is about it I think.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, feeling the difference between his skin and the mark. He was self-conscious about it, sure, but it wasn’t like he was trying to find anyone to date or anything.

That was it for the rest of the night between the two. They played games, and Masky got frustrated with the game where the person has to knock over the bottles. He knew it's rigged and got angry enough to the point where the baseball flew out of the back of the tent in a perfect hole. Three of those holes were made, and he took the prizes he deserved because of it. Hoodie meanwhile had fun with the water gun game, finding it easy to compete with children to win. He wasn’t nice enough to let a child win when he wanted to win himself. He was going to get the big pink teddy bear for Sally when they get back to the mansion. The rest of the games were as easy or frustrating to the duo, due to their supernatural prowess.

When everything began to shut down and they had to leave, the duo had enough prizes to give everyone in the house something three times over. Along with that, they stocked up on enough junk food to last them a week! It was something they cherished, some small little hope in their otherwise miserable lives serving under Slender.

Hoodie spoke up on the walk back. “Masky thanks for this. I had a great time and needed a break.”

Masky glanced at his friend, giving a smile as he lit a cigarette when they were walking back. “No problem. I knew you would enjoy it.”

“I did, it was a nice break. It felt good, it felt nice to act normal and well…*be* normal at that. And not let the other two take over to be the normal ones.” He winced in pain as they entered the forest, knowing that Slender was mad at them for leaving their posts with all this. Not like they cared, they had a fun night.

[rattmemes]

Beetlejuice: the Musical OBCR Starters! ACT 1

((>>act 2<<))

all changeable titles/pronouns will be in [italics and bracket!]

PROLOGUE: INVISIBLE

“ in times like these, we have no words, we only have each other ” “ we only have each other ” “ today we come together to mourn ” “ scripture tells us: “sorrow not, for we do not walk alone” ” “ sorrow not, for we do not walk alone ” “ you’re invisible when you’re sad ” “ clocks tick and phones still ring ” “ the world carries on like mad ” “ the world carries on like mad, but nobody sees a thing ” “ nobody sees a thing ” “ whispering behind their hands, lost for kind words to say ” “ nobody understands, and everyone goes away ” “ nobody understands ” “ everyone goes away ” “ grownups wanna fix things, when they can’t it only fills them shame ” “ they just look away ” “ is it being greedy to need somebody to see me and say my name? ” “ seems when you lose your [mom], no one turns off the sun ” “ folks carry on, that’s that ” “ holy crap, a ballad already? ” “ such a bold departure from the original source material! ”

THE WHOLE BEING DEAD THING

“ hey folks! begging your pardon! ” “ hey folks! ” “ begging your pardon! ” “ ‘scuse me! sorry to barge in! ” “ ‘scuse me! ” “ sorry to barge in! ” “ let’s skip the tears ” “ let’s skip the tears and start on the whole, y’know, being dead thing ” “ you’re doomed! ” “ you’re doomed! enjoy the singing ” “ the sword of Damocles is swinging ” “ if i hear your cell-phone ringing, i’ll kill you myself ” “ the whole being dead thing! ” “ death can get a person stressed ” “ we should have carpe’d way more diems, now we’re never gonna see ‘em ” “ we should have carpe’d way more diems ” “ i can show you what comes next ” “ don’t be freaked ” “ stay in your seats ” “ don’t be freaked, stay in your seats ” “ i do this bullshit like eight times a week ” “ so just relax, you’ll be fine ” “ drink your fifty-dollar wine and take a breath ” “ welcome to a show about death! ” “ you’re gonna be fine on the other side ” “ DIE! YOU’RE ALL GONNA DIE! YOU’RE ALL GONNA DIE! ” “ i’ll be your guide to the other side ” “ oh, and full disclosure: it’s a show about death! ” “ everybody gets on fine here ” “ everybody gets on fine here, like Rodgers, Hart, and Hammerstein here ” “ the women’s bathroom has no line here ” “ just... pee where you want! ” “ you’re just gonna love the folks here ” “ yes, i know you’re woke, but you can take a joke here ” “ i do, like, a TON of coke here ” “ nobody is bullet-proof ” “ “i work out! i eat clean!” jesus, pass the Dramamine ” “ jesus, pass the Dramamine ” “ time to face the brutal truth ” “ we’re all on a hitlist ” “ might not live ‘till christmas ” “ choke to death on Triscuits ” “ hey, that’s just statistics ” “ take a little break here ” “ kinda like a wake here ” “ the scenery is fake here ” “ there’s a giant snake here! ” “ how you doin’? not good! ” “ seriously though, this is a show about death ” “ death is taboo, but it’s hardly something new ” “ there’s nothing medical professionals could do, ‘cept maybe just bill you ” “ if you die while listening to this album, it’s still gonna keep playing ” “ there’s no destiny or fate, just a terrifying wait filled with people that you hate, and on a certain date, the universe kills you ” “ that’s the thing with life: no one makes it out alive ” “ toss that body in the pit ” “ gosh, it’s awful, ain’t it tragic? ” “ blah blah bible jesus magic ” “ when you’re dead, who gives a shit? ” “ pilates, no more yoga ” “ namaste, you fuckin’ posers! ” “ from the cradle to cremation, death just needs a little conversation ” “ i have mastered the art of tearing convention apart ” “ how about we all make a start on the whole being dead thing ” “ god, i hope you’re ready for a show about death! ”

READY, SET, NOT YET

“ look at this crib ” “ look at this crib, in all of it’s glorious antiquary ” “ every curve and surface speaks to me, saying pamper and spoil me, sand me and oil me; come on ” “ i know to the untrained eye it’s boring ” “ nothing’s a chore when you’re restoring ” “ apart from frustration, pain, and financial drain, it’s fun! ” “ why do you polish your crib when you don’t have a kid? ” “ even if you did have a kid, this crib is too precious for placing a baby inside it ” “ it simply exists to remind you your sense of perfection is just a reflection that you are not mentally prepared to make room for a kid ” “ why don’t you live? ” “ just make a start ” “ are you willing to take the next step? ” “ ready, set - ” “ look at these jugs! ” “ amazingly glazed and terracotta-ery ” “ i took some clay and made you pottery ” “ the world will never wreck you, i’ll protect you in a mother’s embrace ” “ why can’t you see that ceramics is simply a manifestation of [motherly] panic; by making a baby that’s breakable aren’t you creating a way of translating the terror of making [maternal] mistakes into clay, hiding away so you don’t have to face being a bad [mom]? ” “ that’s what you’ve done, ___ ” “ here we stand at the end of a 10-year plan ” “ a house, a yard, a minivan, a baby should be next ” “ together let’s leap off the cliff, fall forever, then smash to bits ” “ trapped in a terrifying viper pit ” “ trapped in a terrifying viper pit of diapers and regret ” “ are we willing to take the next step? ” “ ready, set - not yet ” “ why rush? ” “ soon enough our hopes and our dreams will be crushed ” “ but not yet ” “ not now ” “ we can’t start a family in a house with creaky floorboards ” “ you are absolutely right, let’s add it to the list ” “ with the cracks in the plaster ” “ the wi-fi should be faster ” “ this sofa needs a castor ” “ the bathroom’s a disaster! ” “ what about global poverty? ” “ what about world peace? ” “ then there’s the whole darn economy ” “ the whole middle east ” “ we should learn mandarin ” “ yeah! or spanish at least ” “ no habla espanol, dos cervezas por favor ” “ and that’s all we got, and that’s not a lot ” “ do we want a bilingual household or not? ” “ so let’s go slow, no breaking a sweat ” “ what’s the point of having children if we’re drowning in debt? ” “ see, i wasn’t kidding, it’s a show about death! ”

THE WHOLE BEING DEAD THING PT. 2

“ ready? okay! ” “ hi! i’ll be your guide! i’ll be your G-U-I-D-E to the other side! ” “ don’t go to the netherworld ” “ netherworld? ” “ did i say netherworld? never mind ” “ jesus, i can’t spell ” “ he’ll be your guide! ” “ let’s all get naked! ” “ let’s all get naked! eh, worth a try ” “ what is happening?! ” “ i understand that it’s a lot to process ” “ the good news is you and our spouse died in your own house ” “ that gives you clout ” “ that means the two of you should stick around ” “ lucky for you i dropped by ” “ yeah, you seem like nice guys ” “ a little on the pottery barn and dry white wine side ” “ as for me, i’ve been scaring for millennia ” “ i’m the bio-exorcist giving houses enemas ” “ push out all the breathers so you can breathe easy ” “ just stick with me ” “ i’m like a ghost zombie jesus ” “ ghost zombie jesus! ” “ i do it for the love of it. money? ah, who gives a shit ” “ i think we’re a perfect fit, c’mon let’s make out a bit ” “ it’s the perfect day to die ” “ it’s the perfect day to die, ‘cause this guy happened to be passing by ” “ to give you control of your soul ” “ to give you control of your soul for the whole being dead thing ”

DEAD MOM

“ hey [mom], dead [mom] ” “ hey [mom] ” “ i need a little help here ” “ i’m probably talking to myself here ” “ i gotta ask, are you really in the ground? ” “ i feel you all around me ” “ are you here? ” “ i’m tired of trying to iron out my creases ” “ i’m a bunch of broken pieces, it was you who made me whole ” “ i’m a bunch of broken pieces ” “ it was you who made me whole ” “ every day [dad’s] staring at me, like all “hurry up, get happy” ” “ move along ” “ forget about your [mom] ” “ [daddy’s] in denial, [daddy] doesn’t wanna feel ” “ [he] wants me to smile and clap like a performing seal ” “ ignored it for a whole, but [daddy’s] lost [his] mind for real ” “ you don’t believe the mess that we’ve become ” “ you’re my home, my destination ” “ i’m your clone, your strange creation ” “ you held my hand, and life came easy ” “ now jokes don’t land ” “ no one sees me ” “ nothing seems to fit ” “ are you receiving? ” “ i want something to believe in ” “ take me where my soul can run ” “ i’ll be in my bedroom, wake me when i’m twenty one ” “ won’t you send a sign? ” “ i’m running out of hope and time ” “ a plague of mice, a lightning strike, or drop a nuclear bomb ” “ no more playing [daddy’s] games ” “ i’ll go insane if things don’t change ” “ whatever it takes to make [him] say your name ”

FRIGHT OF THEIR LIVES

“ okay, listen up, i’m not gonna lie; right now you couldn’t frighten a fly ” “ you ever stop to ask yourselves why? ” “ both of you are super polite, middle class, suburban, and white ” “ well, all of that is finished tonight ” “ take your places ” “ i want scary faces, now go! ” “ bigger! ” “ further! ” “ harder! ” “ not bad! ” “ i want scary faces, now go! bigger! further! harder! -- not bad! ” “ sever a head, preferably someone you know ” “ look at me, i’m so scary! ” “ don’t be so vanilla, would a little anger kill ya? ” “ c’mon drop your panties i’m trying to fill you -- with wisdom and skill ” “ and the instinct to kill ” “ again, we do not want to kill anyone! ” “ fine, but somehow, someway, you gotta make ‘em see ya ” “ i’m talkin’ jumpscares, the jerky japanese ghost-walk ” “ learn how to throw your voice! -- fool your friends! -- fun at parties! ” “ now THAT is cool! i wanna do THAT! ” “ whatever it takes to make ‘em go crazy ” “ raising the stakes by punching a baby ” “ scare ‘em away till they break ” “ they’ll be quaking in fright ” “ you’ve got some evil deep down inside you ” “ put all the farmer’s markets behind you ” “ you’ve gotta work, gotta haunt till it hurts through the night ” “ give those guys the fright of their lives! ” “ let’s start with things that you hate ” “ hate’s a very strong word ” “ perhaps when people are late ” “ or getting pooped on by birds ” “ no, what fills you with rage? ” “ what fills you with rage? ” “ being mean to a pet ” “ chefs who use too much sage when they make beurre noisette ” “ over-glutinous food ” “ when kids call me dude ” “ oh, i find that so rude! ” “ well, there’s lots there to use ” “ take a deep death and give me your best primal scream ” “ [weak, lame scream] ” “ that was brilliant! ” “ try it again, maybe this time pretend like you mean it ” “ [lame scream but deeper] ” “ that was even better! ” “ i want freedom ” “ to get my freedom i need to get a living person to say my name ” “ i know that beggars can’t be choosers, but do they have to be such losers? ” “ both of them are deathly dull and lame ” “ why God slash Satan did you send these bed wetters? ” “ even, like, a tax attorney would’ve been better ” “ somebody with gravitas, somebody to fear ” “ excuse me, ___, we can kinda hear you ” “ yeah? well that was a soliloquy, so you’re the one who’s being rude ” “ turn all the lights on ” “ dress like a baby ” “ ___, i don’t even -- no. ” “ get your heads in the game ” “ let’s hide their phones! ” “ screw their phones! ” “ ugh, these dopes are hopeless ” “ how will i ever survive? ” “ unless they get the fright of their lives ” “ yes, we’re feelin’ it! ” “ they gotta get the right of their lives ” “ we’re scary, very very scary! ” “ they’ll never get the fright of their lives ”

READY, SET (REPRISE)

“ that needy pervert was right ” “ if we want our house back, we have to fight for it ” “ how? no one can see us! ” “ we’re ghosts, damn it! let’s haunt this bitch! ” “ oblivion calls ” “ we might as well walk through some walls ” “ i’m sure we can haunt our own halls ” “ we’re ready as we’ll ever get ” “ i gotta get right outside my comfort zone ” “ we’ll rattle chains and, i don’t know, just wail and moan until they go ” “ ready, set let’s oooOOOoOooOooOo [ghost noises] ”

NO REASON

“ the universe is more than just space with no end ” [sung] “ la-la-la-la-la! ” “ just think of the universe as a female best friend ” “ hey, universe, what’s happening girl? ” “ oh nothing. just running the world ” “ you’re on the right track, [girl], i got your back, [girl] ” “ i’m helping you grow ” “ think positive, act positive, you are a child of the Earth! ” “ life coaching! nailing it! ” “ time to take command you dictate the hand the universe deals ” “ look, science makes no sense; who needs evidence? ” “ go with yours feels ” “ i’m like a radio tuned to the stars ” “ i found my frequency, crystals speak to me ” “ what are they saying? ” “ buy more crystals ” “ everything, EVERYTHING, happens for a reason ” “ be a beacon of light in the world, put a little alright in the world ” “ there are spiritual guides above, look up and see ‘em ” “ perception is reality ” “ just listen to the melody the universe sings ” “ everything happens for a reason ” “ gee, i hate to break it to you: the universe is just the contents of time, matter and space ” “ ninety-one billion light-years across and the Earth’s a small place ” “ good people die in famine and wars ” “ the pacific islands are sinking, but negative thinking is hardly the cause ” “ you think life is all unicorns and rainbows ‘cause you’re bored ” “ positivity is a luxury that few can afford ” “ we’re gonna die, yes you and I, in meaningless and alone ” “ no no no! no! ” “ one day you may wake up alone ” “ your husband and his boyfriend bought a boat and then they sailed away to Rome ” “ that’s specific ” “ so you cry yourself to sleep in deep despair, talking to the walls ‘cause there’s no one there, and you have to buy a cat ‘cause that’s your last chance to have a family ” “ take it from me, your aging ass will have to believe that everything happens for a reason ” “ put some more fun in the world, a little “I AM STILL YOUNG” in the world ” “ be prepared to take your eggs and freeze ‘em ” “ is this still about me? ” “ sounds like terrible things can happen ” “ because the universe is random ” “ yes, but, random for a reason ” “ no reason ”

INVISIBLE (REPRISE)/ON THE ROOF

“ you’re invisible when you’re me ” “ there’s no one to see my truth ” “ if they could look up they’d see: hey! somebody’s on the roof! ” “ god, it’s mortifying, what’s the point of even trying? ” “ now i’m trapped with no escape ” “ banished! disavowed! i vanished like a cloud of dirty hipster vape ” “ i vanished like a cloud of dirty hipster vape ” “ nobody said life’s fair ” “ guess they will never see the demon who isn’t there ” “ whoa, what have we got here? ” “ by the time you read this, I, ___, will be gone ” “ there’s nothing for me here ” “ i’m alone, forsaken, invisible ” “ that makes two of us ” “ who the hell are you? ” “ can you... see me? ” “ yeah...? ” “ you can SEE me! ” “ I’M GONNA HAVE A NEW BEST FRIIIIIIEEEENND! ”

SAY MY NAME

“ you could use a buddy ” “ don’t you want a pal? ” “ yes i do! yes i do! ” “ the way i see, your [daddy] should be leaving and you should stick around! ” “ and kill him! ” “ ... what? ” “ nothing! ” “ don’t end yourself, defend yourself ” “ [daddy] is the one you should maim ” “ together we’ll exterminate, assassinate! ” “ the finer points can wait ” “ first you gotta say my name! ” “ go ahead and jump but that won’t stop [him] ” “ here you got a solid plan B option ” “ i can bring your [daddy] so much pain ” “ all you gotta do is say my name ” “ just say it three times in a row ” “ you won’t believe how far i’ll go ” “ i’m in the bench, but coah, just put me in the game! ” “ i don’t know your name ” “ well, i can’t SAY it ” “ how ‘bout a game of charades? ” “ yes, let’s play it! ” “ close, but no ” “ wow, i’m impressed ” “ all you gotta do is say my name three times ” “ three times in a row it must be spoken, unbroken ” “ you’re so smart, a stand-up bro ” “ i’ll think about your offer, let you know ” “ i prefer my chances down below ” “ being young and [female] doesn’t mean that i’m an easy mark ” “ i’ve been swimming with piranhas, i don’t need a shark ” “ yes, life sucks, but not that much ” “ be a doll and spare the lecture ” “ i’m offering you a full-time specter! ” “ are you any good? ” “ you bet’cha! trust me, baby! ” “ really, it’s a flattering offer ” “ don’t you wanna see [dad] suffer? ” “ i think i’d rather just jump off ” “ i may be suicidal but ___, it’s not as if i’ve lost my mind ” “ so, playing hardball, huh? you are tougher than you look ” “ just wanna make sure i know who i’m working with. go any references? ” “ ___, there you are! ” “ get away from [her] ! ” “ this is a dangerously unstable individual ” “ ___ is sexy! ” “ ___ is smart! ” “ ___ is a graduate of Julliard! ” “ [he] can help, we found [him] on yelp ” “ our troubles all ended on the day that we befriended ” “ every word is the truth ” “ what the heck was that? ” “ so violating! ” “ there you go, kid, couple of five-star reviews ” “ that was possession ” “ any ghost can do that in less than one lesson ” “ pretty much any ghost’ll do, sure ” “ then, ___, what do i need you for? ” “ woah, woah, woah woah woah! hold up! ” “ hold up! i’m your pal! ” “ they’re sweet, but i’m a demon straight from hell ” “ i know, i went a little hard on the sell ” “ we’re BF-F-F-F’s forever! ” “ what? he was already dead ” “ we don’t need that demon ” “ together we can make a grown man weep ” “ we got a dinner date to keep ” “ okay, so what’s the plan? ” “ [he’s] gonna freak when we possess him ” “ i’ll lead that lamb to slaughter ” “ yeah, i got game! ” “ i’m gonna make [him] say my name ” “ not running away ”

DAY-O (THE BANANA BOAT SONG)/ACT I FINALE

“ what’s going on ___? are you alright? ” “ i don’t -- i dont know what just happened ” “ ___? do you need to lie down? ” “ what is happening to me? ” “ work all night on a drink of rum ” “ daylight come and me wanna go home ” “ stack banana till the morning come ” “ wait, why aren’t you dancing? ” “ it’s like i told you, ___, this house is haunted, and the ghosts who live here want you OUT ” “ who wants bacon? ” “ no! no! i’m a vegan! ” “ shut up, you moron! don’t apologize, we’re gonna be RICH! ” “ a genuine haunted house? it’s a goldmine! ” “ these ghosts are gonna make us a fortune! ” “ no! you’re supposed to be scared! ” “ there’s one thing that can still stop [him] ” “ ___, no! you don’t know what’ll happen! ” “ i can’t keep living like this! ” “ oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! i’m so glad you changed your mind! ” “ you are never gonna regret this! ” “ we are gonna make such a great team! ” “ give me just... one... more... ” “ it’s SHOWTIME! ” “ it’s our house now, kid! ” “ looks like we’re not invisible anymore! ”

[foxtophat]

in chapter 3, nick brings john some food and tries to interrogate him, but it doesn’t go quite as planned. john sure is acting weird! i mean, weirder than usual. i mean, usual for john, anyway. i mean... well, let’s just say that nick is as in control as he can be in today’s update!

WHEW i really like this chapter actually, i had fun editing and writing it and all that. soooo i’ve been doing weekly updates but for the sake of consistency i’m going to be changing that to a bi-weekly schedule instead. gives me more time to flesh out these thinner chapters before i get them out to you, the viewer!

speaking of viewers, DAMN thank you guys for the warm ass welcome for this story! i’m so glad to see that people are enjoying my self-indulgent mess. i’ve had so much fun working on it by myself but i’m having even more fun now that i know other people like it!

hey, i’ll slap the text of this chapter below the cut so you don’t have to go off-site if you don’t feel like it. if you read, please consider reblogging, as that’s the best way for me to get this update out there :) otherwise, just like, have a good day and junk!

John is, unfortunately, still alive when Nick goes to check on him. He even seems to be aware of his surroundings, unsurprised when Nick opens the door and downright guarded as Nick approaches him with a plate of vegetables and some smoked venison. The role reversal doesn't sit right at all with Nick, but at least he knows he's in control of the situation for now. Give the bastard a couple of nights of good rest and John will no doubt attempt to get back on top, but tonight he's too sick to do anything but cringe away as Nick unceremoniously drops into a crouch and drops the plate in his general direction.

Tense, with his fingers twisting in the blanket below him, John rasps, "What's this?"

Nick frowns. "Food," he snaps, trying not to let his own rudeness bother him. He doesn't have to feel guilty being short with John — it's fucking John . Nick should be mad at himself for not being more of a dick! Being in a position that would earn a normal person sympathy doesn't mean squat when the guy is a murdering, violent psychopath wearing the thin veneer of a human being! He doesn't deserve anything Nick gives him, besides a swift and merciless kick to the temple.

Nick exhales heavily and reluctantly adds, "You look like you need it."

It's only once Nick rises to his feet again that John reaches for the plate, dragging it into his lap and proving Nick right as he quickly begins to inhale his food. It's alarming to watch John cramming jerky and vegetables into his mouth hand-over-fist, and despite himself he warns, "Slow down, you're gonna choke."

John stops eating like a switch has been flipped, dropping his hands to the plate as though he's been physically restrained. He doesn't say anything, just twists his fingers against the rim and stares at Nick's boots.

Okay.

This, uh. This is weird.

Nick feels his unease chewing at his nerves. "Well?" he snaps, trying to bluster his way through it.

"Well, what ?" John asks in return. There's an edge of annoyance in his voice, an old-world relic of John's normally nasty attitude, but it's not enough to reassure Nick.

"You know what. You're supposed to be dead . Rook put you down almost a decade ago, and I dunno if you noticed, but there's been a nuclear apocalypse since then. There's no way I'm putting you in your grave before you tell me how you got this far in the first place."

It's a lie, but the important part is that Nick sounds tough when he says it.

John clenches his jaw in response and finally meets Nick's glare with his own steely gaze. "They shot me," he says, his ragged voice still managing to scrape together enough attitude to sound vaguely condescending. He touches his gut, fingers prodding gently. "Then, the deputy left me for dead. I assume they returned to your welcoming arms."

Ugh, it is so fucking weird to hear John's passive-aggressive bullshit. Eight years apparently wasn't enough time for him to get over his nasty infatuation, if he's still bitter about Rook picking the Ryes over his own family.

"All of us were happy you were gone," Nick says, unwilling to indulge in John's creepy pity-lust for the deputy. "So, what then? How did you find that bunker? How'd you even know it was there ?"

John picks up a piece of jerky, bending it between his thumb and index finger. "It was my backup plan."

"What, in case the Cult backfired on you?" Nick scoffs loudly as John silently pops the piece of meat into his mouth. "I bet your brother would be real pleased to know you tried to weasel your way out of his prophecy."

John chews and swallows. "I doubt Joseph survived the Deputy at close range. I doubt I'll survive the second round myself. Where... is the Deputy, anyway? Shouldn't they be here casting down judgment, too?"

Nick sets his jaw. "I don't know," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Nobody knows. They went to confront Joseph, but with all the Bliss in the air... I don't know. We lost track of them in the chaos. If they've had access to a radio, they haven't used it to contact anyone."

If John has any insight into what might've happened, he doesn't share it. He picks at a few pieces of carrot but it seems like he's lost his appetite again. "I see," he says, too pensively for someone who seems half out of their gourd.

"So, you survived being shot down, crawled into a hole with a gut full of buckshot, survived that , and then... what?"

"You saw what," John sighs. He looks tired — all this talking must be wearing him out. It's hard to believe John Seed is too weak to hold a conversation, considering how hard it used to be to get him to shut the fuck up. Nick tries not to spend too much time thinking about it.

"You want me to believe that you spent eight years just sitting there ?" Nick asks. The disbelief in his voice doesn't come close to the incredulity he's feeling. There's no way that John spent the last eight years in a quiet limbo. Hell, Nick's bunker life wouldn't make for riveting television or anything, but he still did more than exist . Even if he was on his own, John had to have some kind of — of backup backup plan, a plot to manipulate the nuclear apocalypse in his favor, something . Right?

"What do you want me to say? The bunker was lacking in entertainment. I was trapped alone, miles away from the Project, with nowhere near enough supplies. I was certain I would die before the first year was over, and from then on I assumed every day would somehow become my last. My being here is as much a surprise to you as it is to me."

He glances up, watching Nick's reaction with a wariness Nick isn't comfortable with. It's too much like a wounded dog, and John has to be playing some kind of angle to be using it.

"I had a radio, but no microphone," he says. "All I could do was listen."

Nick remembers what the radio channels were like for the first couple of months after the bombs dropped. Everyone going through every step of the grieving process over the world they'd known, screaming, begging, arguing, crying all the time. Lots of repentant Peggy idiots cursing Eden's Gate, even more innocent people sending out their last painful goodbyes. Kim would talk to them, sometimes, but for a while, it was safer to just leave the damned thing off.

"Eventually, the radio died," John mutters. "I thought it would be... better, somehow, being isolated. After all, that's how Joseph spoke to God, and I had a lot of questions that He might have answered."

"The last thing we need is another hallucinating prophet," Nick warns. He hopes John tries to sell him on some new-wave Josephism, though — he'd love to shoot the guy on principle and be done with everything. Boy, would that take a load of ethical weight off his back!

John's lips tighten wryly. "Apparently I don't possess the same qualities that made Joseph such an inviting disciple," he says. "I was alone. For... seven years, eight months, three days. Give or take."

"You keep a calendar down there?" Nick snaps, as if he and Kim hadn't quickly sorted time out themselves.

"I did," John replies, somewhat smugly. "Long enough to know when I ran out of supplies, at least. After that, it wasn't long before I had to leave the bunker. I couldn't... I couldn't take it anymore."

Nick waits for John to continue, but he doesn't. There must be more to it than that, Nick's sure of it, but John doesn't seem capable of handling the conversation.

John drops his line of sight to the pistol holstered at Nick's hip. He seems to be waiting for something.

"What happens now?" he asks, once whatever he's waiting for fails to happen. No doubt he expects Nick to brandish the gun in his face, to intimidate him or threaten him or... whatever. Shoot him, probably, because not even John Seed would be stupid enough to give himself clemency for all his crimes.

"Now?" Nick repeats. "Well, I guess that depends on you." He crouches down once more, sure that he's well out of John's grasp as he does so. He wants John to look him in the eye. "See, it's been a while, but I still really fuckin' hate you. After everything you've done, to me, my family, my home ... Honestly, I should've probably put you down the moment I recognized you."

John meets Nick's hard glare with the resolve of a condemned man. "Why didn't you?" he asks.

"Because I haven't had to kill anybody in nearly a decade, and y'know, I'd like to keep that streak." Nick jabs a finger at John, inwardly pleased when he recoils to avoid contact. " You're the one who came to Hope County looking for a fight. So I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet."

Nick figures he sounds pretty intimidating, but John doesn't seem moved by the indirect threat. Of course he isn't. The guy built half a religious movement out of his sadomasochism — he's not going to feel threatened by Nick, not even if he were holding a pair of pliers to his teeth. He doesn't even give Nick the satisfaction of asking what he means — he only stares and waits for Nick to hand down his sentence.

"First, we gotta see if you're gonna make it through the night," Nick says, gesturing towards the abandoned plate. "After that, I'm gonna put you to work. Kim and I, we got a list of things we need to get done. It's back-breaking manual labor, and you're gonna be the one whose back breaks." Nick rises to his feet, trying to seem tough when in reality, his knees are starting to ache, and he can't afford to throw one out over a show of force. "You do what you're told with no back-talking, and I guess we'll find a way to keep you fed."

"And if I don't?"

"I don't think you're in any position to refuse, jackass. Nobody else is going to think twice about shooting you around here. The cult, your followers, family, they're all dead and gone. Anyone left who knows your face is gonna want to smash it to bits, and they aren't going to be inclined to be as generous as Kim and I are being. So it's either this, or I throw you back in that bunker where you belong."

For a moment, Nick thinks that John might try to turn him down anyway. He hopes he does — it'd be nice to get to punch the guy without feeling guilty for hitting a seriously ill man. But John's pale face belies how desperate he is to avoid that bunker of his, and eventually he gives in with a slow, resigned nod.

"You're right," John replies, voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Joseph — the Project — it's all gone. And I..."

John trails off with a heavy, resigned sigh. He looks up at Nick through a thick clump of long, tangled hair that's fallen over his face. "I'm at your mercy," he finally says, dropping Nick's gaze immediately after as though he doesn't expect much mercy at all.

"What, that's it?" Nick asks, honestly fucking confounded at the lack of backtalk. He'd made a good argument, sure, but — what? "No arguing? No negotiating, no defending the cult? No trying to deflect blame?"

"What good would it do?" John replies. Despite everything, he manages to scrape together enough attitude to look unimpressed by Nick's entire deal. It's the first time since realizing John was alive that Nick feels a twinge of that old-fashioned irritation that used to make shooting John seem so appealing. "I have nothing. You've won, Nick. I hope you've been enjoying the prize."

"I ought to punch you," Nick snaps. "Lucky for you, I'd feel bad for giving you a beat-down in your sorry state." He nudges the plate with his boot, sliding it closer to John. "I'll be back with some water so you can clean yourself up. You stink enough to put me off my own dinner. Anything else, well..."

He gestures to the ratty, mildewy pile of junk that they've been collecting in the room, as if any of it could be useful. Broken picture frames, mouse-torn bedding, broken down cardboard boxes and more all piled innocently away in what was going to be Carmina's room. Looking at it fills Nick with a sense of profound sadness that he shoves right back down where it belongs.

"You can figure something out," he tells John, who doesn't seem capable of making another dig at Nick's new position as prison guard. Unwilling to be moved by John's labored breathing as he simply nods in return, Nick quickly about-faces, storming from the room with just enough anger to hide the retreat for what it is.

[neshatriumphs]

A Boy Called Red 9

Bonded

Mercedes didn’t feel safe with Marley around but she did believe that Marley would be protective of Sam and that made her feel a little better. If Marley was looking after Sam, she might be able to focus on other things, comfortably. Well, as comfortably as she could do things with a crazed looking white woman with matted hair, a busted up face and missing teeth staring at her. She looked like a completely different girl than the one that had jacked her up searching for the old woman. Those wolves really did a number on her. But, they weren’t trying to kill her, clearly. They only meant to cause her pain. They probably were watching her when they released her. But, she seemed smart enough that she wouldn’t have come back without being sure that she lost them first. After she left, to go back to Isabelle, the two of them were there for days. Sam sighed and said, “I wonder what the longest period of time that she ever spent down here was.” Mercedes didn’t say anything to him. “This is cozy up until you’ve gotta take a crap. I mean, what do you do?”

“Probably bury it in the farthest space from here,” she said. “Or bag it and deposit it in the wild. I don’t think that she just stayed down here for weeks at a time. Maybe times whenever her house was being ran through. There wasn’t a lot of food in the house, so my theory is that she kept most of it down here and brought up what she needed at the moment, in case someone barged in and she had to hideout for a while.”

“I spent a lot of time in a panic room. It had a working toilet, ton of canned goods, some jerky and soup with meat and stuff. But, we didn’t have a lot of meat. You didn’t have steaks or burgers, you know? And… at the time, that seemed so wrong to me. I honestly wondered, what kind of life is it to not be able to have a burger?” He laughed at himself and held his ribs, “Meanwhile, somewhere, you and your mom were scavenging through the woods.”

“We weren’t always in the woods. I feel like we were in an apartment complex. My mom started taking in orphans and runaways… they’d move on and leave behind meat donations, is how she explained it to me. It wasn’t until people came looking for folk and neighbors started pointing fingers at her that we had to leave. She says that she goes back into town sometimes, for meat donations. I usually have to stay hidden away when she does. She comes back all beat up and scratched up, missing chunks and having new scars. I nurse her, we eat, we rest, then we move on.”

“I’m curious about something, because everybody calls you cub, but you look like you’re probably like my age.”

“Are you asking me how old I am?”

“I’m curious about how old you are.”

“Were people still doing birthdays where you came from?”

“Kinda. After television stopped broadcasting and calendars stopped being made, most people didn’t know when a week passed or a month. But, if you still had a phone and a charger, you could plug it in sometimes and find out what date it was… for a while.”

“Well… My mom says that I’m sixteen. That doesn’t seem right to me, but like you said, I can’t really tell time. I never made any tally marks when the sun came up or went down to know how many days had passed. Maybe I should start. It’s gone down and came back up five times since you and I have been here.” She looked around and eventually picked up a plastic jar that looked like it once had jumbo sized pickles in it, then grabbed 5 pebbles and threw them in. “This way, we’ll at least be able to know how long we’ve been together.” She looked at him and he was smiling, his busted face making him look a sad sight, even though his eyes were bright. She cleared her throat and said, “Not together! But, you know… On this journey, or whatever!” She hugged the jar to herself and wiggled her legs, nervously.

.

By the time that they surfaced, she counted the pebbles in the jar - 16 of them. Her mother had to be back in the woods by now, but Sam insisted that they find Isabelle. “She’s got like a lair and stuff. I slept in a cell, but there were kids and stuff there, so I know that they have resources.”

“Do you remember what I was supposed to say to her?” Mercedes asked.

“What?” Sam wondered.

“The slingshot boy gave me a password.”

“She’s met me already,” Sam said.

“Right. But, she hasn’t met me. What if he’s not there and the crazy fur girl is. She doesn’t trust me and she doesn’t like me.”

“Wherever you go, I go. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Sam said. Now that he was all healed up, he felt like a man again. He was brave and protective. He wasn’t going to allow trouble to come on the only friend that he’d made here. They packed up the bags for a few days and set off to leave the tunnel. He got out first, then helped her up. They picked up the bags that they’d thrown out and she tried to remember how this was covered whenever Kurt and she came to it. It was good enough, unless someone had seen them. Sam looked at his compass for a bit, then back at her lagging behind, “Please stay close enough that we can’t be separated. I don’t know where traps are in these woods.” 

She sighed and caught up, “God, acting like my mother,” she complained. He looked at her, very offended. She winced, remembering that her mother specifically was responsible for his grandmother’s death and to compare them was in such, such poor taste. “I am so sorry. I just meant that you’re kinda buggin…” He continued walking, sulking face in full effect and this time, she remained close, but quiet. She’d probably said enough. 

She was walking, trying to keep up with his long legged strides, practically jogging when she hit her toe on a rock, made a yelp and almost fell. Sam dropped the compass and his bag as he rushed to catch her and stand her back up. “You okay? Are you okay?” He was examining her, looking worried. She nodded her head. She was fine, just embarrassed. He sighed and picked up his things, “Be more careful,” he said. But, he had slowed down for her to be able to keep up a little better. 

Whenever the sun appeared to be going down, she found a cave and he shook his head, “I think that spot’s taken,” he told her. 

“Who told you that?” She wondered.

“Marley.” 

By this time, she knew Marley’s name. “If it’s night fall and it’s taken, they’ll either start a fire to keep warm or they’ll prowl the woods for suckas like us. Either way… this cave is ours tonight. We can’t navigate in the dark. You aren’t from the woods, and I’ve never been allowed to be out at night.”

“Listen. You and me gotta have each other’s backs. If they know how to move around in the dark, we’ve gotta learn.”

“When will we be able to? They hunt at night!”

“Let’s climb a tree. Can you climb a tree?” He asked.

“Not well!” 

“I’ll help you.” Sam climbed the tree, pausing every now and then to try to help pull her up with him. She was extremely nervous about all of this, but he was so determined and focused that she simply trusted him. Whenever they got high up into the tree, he said, “Our eyes will adjust to the dark. We can spend some nights training them, in the treetops. They don’t hunt for sheep in trees.” She nodded, but he couldn’t see her, so he reached out to find her and found her hand. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. He smiled about it, but she couldn’t see him. 

The sun went down and came up 3 more times while they were out and about, but they hadn’t found Isabelle’s place and that night, they had a brush with the wolves, for once. “Who are they?”

“One of them fits the description of a boy that had a scuffle with Packmaster Mike and the other is that Wolf Bitch’s cub, the black one.”

“And… They’re treading our territory?” Jesse asked. “For what?”

“Probably trying to find Isabelle. You know that Marley is one of hers. She’s been spotted with the boy. I can’t explain the cub, though.”

“What about your boyfriend?” 

“If you’re referring to Kurt, I’m sure he’s still with Isabelle. He was a part of the fight, too. The bounty that Mike put on his head was for slaying a couple of his wolves with stones.”

“The slingshot,” they both said. Jesse finished off with, “Well, I am into the idea of getting those two into this pack, if you find them. I’d love to have a couple of young wolves that could both lead Wolf Bitch to me AND survive a scuffle with Mike. Don’t let them get to Isabelle. Bring them to me, as soon as they’re found. Let them know that they need a pack. We’re the only one that can both provide and protect them.” When they’re voices went away, Mercedes finally exhaled in the tree. She didn’t realize that she was holding her breath.

“What were they talking about?” Sam whispered.

“I guess it's somebody else Mama has pissed off. I didn’t recognize the voices, but they did mention Kurt.”

“Marley told me that his boyfriend killed a bunch of kids for his packmaster, to enter the pack. That means this is the pack that sent them into hiding…” He shut his mouth when he saw Blaine moving around, coming back in their direction, looking for something or someone. Their eyes were adjusted to the dark for the night, and Sam could make him out, a pale figure, dressed fancy, like Kurt, but with a fur coat on and a bowtie. He had curly hair all over his head, but Sam couldn’t make out his face in the dark.

“If you’re not in this pack, it was very unwise of you to be here,” Blaine said. “If we find you, there’s no telling what we’ll have to do…” He went to a few bushes, looked behind whatever he saw. Nothing. He glanced up at the tree and Sam and Mercedes both clung to each other, being perfectly still. Blaine left. They worried that maybe he’d seen them and was coming back with pack members, but he never did. 

Their plan to kick anybody who tried to come up that tree to get them didn’t need to be put into effect, but both of them were a little bit more scared than they had been when they set off to find Isabelle. At sunrise, whenever they began climbing out of the tree, Mercedes actually said, “I wish Marley was here…” Sam gasped. Mercedes froze and her eyes looked around, wondering if they were about to be killed.

“I know where one of her traps are! But, it’s in Mike’s territory.”

“You mean 3 days back that way?” She wondered pointing her thumb. 

“No. It’s not that far and it’s that way,” he pointed another direction. “I got off course after my fight with Pinky and them and fell into a trap.” He grabbed her hand and began running, forgetting again how short her little legs were. Whenever they reached it, she was ready to collapse. He was breathing hard. “I gotta warn you… The fall is gonna hurt.”

“More than my damn lungs?” She wondered. He laughed, took her hand and looked at her, wondering if she was ready. She nodded her head, shut her eyes and they leaped into the trap. Whenever they landed, she groaned and he immediately checked on her.

“Took you longer than I thought,” a woman’s voice said. Sam helped Mercedes up and looked at her. It was Isabelle. “We should get moving, if we want to make it back to my chambers by nightfall.” Marley reinforced the trap, growled at Mercedes, then walked behind them as they followed Isabelle through these tunnels. 

Mercedes asked Sam, “Do you know this woman?”

“Her voice… You’re Isabelle, aren’t you?” He asked. He was mostly unconscious whenever they “met.” 

She smiled at them and asked, “Why are you here?”

Mercedes gasped and said, “OH! Mama caught me in the right hole!” Isabelle nodded her head once at her and then kept walking. Sam looked confused. That didn’t answer his question, but he’d been unconscious for that exchange, as well.

“You’ll be able to sleep on an actual bed tonight, but our chambers are set up like a campsite. We basically moved our campgrounds underground, in these tunnels. We took the wood that the cabins were made of for our fires…”

“And for building stuff and making traps,” Marley said, cheerfully. She pressed close up against Sam and Mercedes bucked up to her, reflexively. Marley smiled down at her, looking nefarious with her sharp new teeth, that she must’ve made herself. “Oh,” she said and laughed. “The cub is ready to fight?”

Sam pulled Mercedes to him and kept walking. She and Marley glared at each other. “Easy, Cub,” Sam teased. 

“I don’t know why I reacted that way,” she admitted softly, not taking her eyes off of Marley.

“Because you’re territorial,” he said, rubbing her arm with the hand that he had around her.

“I can’t be territorial about something that doesn’t belong to me,” she said, more to herself that to him. He simply smiled and at her and moved his hand to her waist.

. 

Isabelle brought them to a room where there were several beds, with little tables on the sides of them, most with possessions on them, and trunks at the feet of the beds that Sam was sure held things too. “There aren’t currently any empty beds next to each other, but you can pick any two that don’t have someone’s things there already.” Sam placed his bag on a nightstand and Mercedes placed hers on a bed, across the way. She took a small baggy of pebbles out and poured them on the nightstand to count what she had collected since they had been in the woods, and she recalled what she had counted before they left and added them together in her brain. She pulled out a journal and wrote Day 21: We found Isabelle.

Whenever everyone was in bed, going to sleep for the night, or doing something to occupy their minds, until they could fall asleep, Mercedes was staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t seem to sleep. Her mind was racing. She was wondering about that pack that wanted them, wondering about her mother, wondering how Sam would react whenever they ran into her, wondering about Sam… But, he interrupted her thoughts when he came and climbed into her bed. “Sam?”

“I can’t sleep without you next to me,” he said. He admitted it like he was confessing something that she would judge him for, but warmth flushed over him. She felt the same way. She snuggled into him and was asleep within minutes. Marley passed by to check in on everyone and almost panicked when she noticed Sam’s empty bed, but there he was… cozied up with his little cub. She had quite the surprise for them in the morning.

[green-violin-bow]

Concussion

“Cheers.” Greg’s smile falls away as the nurse leaves the consulting room. He takes a breath, and tests the rapidly-swelling lump on the side of his head. A sharp half-gasp as he touches a place, through the gauze, that hurts more than he’d expected.

He sighs and stands up, slowly pulling on his coat. His arms, shoulders and back ache. His legs are tired from running.

Bed. God. Home, bed, tomorrow – well. Tomorrow, paperwork. His head aches at the thought.

Slowly, he makes his way towards the exit, raising a hand and summoning a cheery grin on the way for the nurse who’d patched him up. His head really is throbbing, now. God knows when he last ate, but he’d had a cup of tea a few hours ago – right? And then it all kicked off – and since then, he’s not had a minute to himself.

It’s alright. Plenty of time to himself when he gets home.

Sometimes, the silence of his small flat is perfect, after a long day at work. Tonight, though – there won’t be anyone there. There to look after him, to be concerned about his injury, to make him a cup of tea and some dinner.

Self-pitying bastard. His shoes squeak on the harshly blue wipe-clean floor of the hospital corridor. The sliding doors at the exit are slow to open. He stands for a moment in the cold night air, and then wraps his fingers around his phone in his coat pocket. Taxi. Best not to drive, the nurse said. Though fuck knows where I left the car, anyway. The screen of his phone doesn’t seem to make much sense to him. He turns it over in his hand, the cold back satisfying against his palm. Fuck, I hope I’ve not got brain damage. Call a taxi, you twat.

“I – hope I am not intruding, Detective Inspector.”

Greg looks up, startled. Mycroft Holmes is impeccable as ever, smart navy coat cut beautifully, black-gloved hands folded on the handle of his umbrella. Greg has learned, over the years, to read the tells of diffidence in the man: his additional aloofness of manner, his ramrod posture, and the way he seems to look down his nose.

It used to put Greg’s back up. For a while, now, he’s seen it for what it is: armour against the world, against the disappointments and dissatisfactions of interacting with other people. It’s the quieter version of Sherlock’s vicious, tongue-lashing attacks on the stupidities and failings of others.

It makes Greg want to protect.

“Nah,” he sighs. “I was just –” he holds up his phone. “Gonna call a taxi. Sherlock and John alright?”

Mycroft gives a terse nod. “They have just taken a taxi of their own.” His fingers flex on the handle of his umbrella. When he speaks, it is a little more quickly than usual. “Since they have no need of it, I wondered if you might accept a lift home.”

Normally, Greg would argue. Tonight, head throbbing, weary to the bone, he sighs and says, “yeah. Thanks.”

There is a half-moment of hesitation (he thought I’d argue, thinks Greg, with a twinge of guilt) and then Mycroft turns. They walk down the concrete ramp from the hospital, to where a black sedan with tinted windows idles in the drop-off bay. Mycroft crosses to the other side of the car. Greg climbs in, and watches Mycroft folding his long, elegant legs into the back seat.

Don’t start that bollocks again, Greg Lestrade. We’ve had words about this, haven’t we? He turns his head away, and watches as the car pulls off, winding its way out of the hospital car park, through pools of yellowed street light.

“It looks somewhat painful,” says Mycroft, after a few minutes of silence.

Greg, hypnotised by tiredness and by the looping pattern of street lights, turns to look at him. “Mmm? Sorry?”

“Your head wound.”

“Oh – not sure it really counts as a ‘head wound’,” says Greg, with a lopsided attempt at a smile.

The corner of Mycroft’s mouth twitches, drily amused. Greg feels the usual leap of surprise and – be honest – pride. He so rarely sees Mycroft Holmes smile, really smile, as opposed to giving that snakelike grimace in the face of Sherlock’s defiance or competition. “Your head is bandaged, Detective Inspector,” says Mycroft, quietly. “That counts.”

Greg lets his head fall back against the seat behind him, and gives a small, acknowledging huff of amusement. “Yeah. I guess.” His gaze wanders back to the window. They’re a few streets away from his flat. He suppresses a sigh. Nearly home. Tea. Bed. Too tired for dinner. Fuck it. “Your driver knows the way?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“’Course,” says Greg, with a half-smile. He flicks his gaze to Mycroft’s, and receives an amused glance in return. “Stupid question,” adds Greg. He could fall asleep right here. His eyelids feel heavy.

“Did the doctor check for concussion?” asks Mycroft, and his voice seems somehow far away.

“Nurse,” says Greg.

“And did they check for concussion?” prompts Mycroft.

“Yeah. Yeah, think so.”

There’s a rather full little silence. “I see,” says Mycroft.

The car draws up in front of Greg’s house.

“Thanks,” says Greg. He needs to make himself get up. Unstrap the seatbelt, open the door, move all those muscles and get out of the car. In a minute. Now. “Cheers,” he says, as he makes himself move. “Appreciate it.”

Only when he’s standing at the front door, searching his pockets for his keys, does he realise that Mycroft has followed him from the car – is standing, umbrellaless, a few steps away.

“Are you quite alright, Detective Inspector?”

“Yeah – yeah, alright – just can’t find my key, but it’ll be here somewhere. Ah – there we go.” He finds it in his inside coat pocket. How did it end up there? “Thanks,” he says, a bit awkwardly. “For the lift. Don’t worry about this, I’m good.” He gives Mycroft a quick flash of the cheery smile he’d used on the nurse.

The key in his hand feels rather unfamiliar. He’s not quite sure what to do with it next.

Mycroft Holmes holds out a black-gloved hand, and clearly the sensible thing – the only sensible thing – is to do what Greg does, and place the key into it.

When the door’s open, Greg steps inside, turning on the hall light, pushing off his shoes. Mycroft hesitates, not leaving, but clearly unsure.

“C’m’in for a minute?” asks Greg. “I feel a bit – weird, actually.”

Mycroft closes the door very quietly behind himself. “I am concerned you may have concussion.”

Greg doesn’t answer. The sum total of his thoughts are: sofa. Sit. He does, sinking back and letting his head fall onto the cushions. It pounds, tightly.

He hears Mycroft cross into the kitchen area, and put the kettle on. The noise isn’t pleasant, but he hopes there might be tea.

In front of him, he feels the air change, and then Mycroft’s voice is quiet, but firm. “Detective Inspector.” He is clearly crouching in front of the sofa. It would mean sitting up – opening his eyes – “Lestrade,” says Mycroft, more sharply, and Greg forces himself to focus, to sit forward.

“Yes,” he says, a little absently.

“You are having trouble focusing,” says Mycroft, calmly. Nonetheless, signs of worry are there: his brows are drawn a little together. His lips are tight. I notice these things, about you, thinks Greg. Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I do, and I can’t stop.

“Do you feel nauseous?” asks Mycroft.

Slowly, Greg checks, explores. “No.”

“Is your vision blurry?”

There are darker grey flecks in your eyes, thinks Greg. I never got a chance to see that before. “No,” he says. And it’s not far, to lean forward and kiss him, so he does.

It’s warm, and soft, and chaste, and the smell of Mycroft – a hint of cologne, the expensive wool of his coat, still on, even inside – is intoxicating, even more so than usual –

Mycroft pulls back, jerky with shock, eyes wide. “Lestrade –”

Greg can’t find concern, somehow. Come back, is all his brain says. That was good. I want it to still be good. Warm and soft – I need that. I need you. He’s not sure, but he thinks perhaps he’s smiling.

It’s the first time he’s seen Mycroft speechless.

Oh.

Oh dear.

“Don’t freak out,” he says.

Mycroft takes a breath, seems to find some reserve of calm, and raises one eyebrow. “You need to go to hospital. I am quite certain you have concussion. The nurse who examined you has much to answer for.”

Greg shakes his head, then regrets it when the stab of pain comes. “Ow. No. What, because I kissed you? I just need a cup of tea.”

Mycroft’s lips form a tight line. “When did you last eat or drink?”

Greg makes a pfff noise, hand in his hair. “Not sure.”

Mycroft stands up. As he makes tea, his shoulders are tight and high.

Greg can’t summon enough energy to worry. It’s okay. I’ll make him understand. Somehow.

From somewhere, Mycroft has found a packet of Digestives, to go with the tea. He places the mug in Greg’s hand, and holds the packet out, biscuit pushed up ready for Greg to take.

It all tastes like heaven on Greg’s tongue, exploding with flavour and satisfaction. He groans, voice rough, and slowly finishes his tea.

Mycroft takes a seat, primly upright, on the sofa next to him.

“God. I needed that,” Greg mumbles, as he leans forward to put the mug down on the coffee table. “Where’re those biscuits?”

He eats two more, holding the packet out to Mycroft, who declines.

“’M sorry,” says Greg, eventually. “About before.”

Mycroft shakes his head, once. “Do not mention it.”

“Come out with me. On Friday.”

There is a short, deadly silence. “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I’m so knackered now I’m prob’ly hallucinating or something, but by Friday I’ll’ve slept it off.” Greg watches the blank expression that serves for total astonishment, with Mycroft. “Come out for dinner with me. Or – whatever it is you like doing. Come for dinner here.”

Mycroft blinks, several times. “As a –”

“Date,” says Greg, baldly. “I didn’t kiss you because I’ve got concussion, Mycroft. I did it because I’ve wanted to for ages and I’ve got no inhibitions right now ’cause I’m so tired I can’t think.”

Mycroft, expression shuttered, does not speak.

Greg turns on the sofa, left leg tucked up, and puts his hand on Mycroft’s arm. “Stop me,” he says, and slowly, so slowly, he leans in.

When they’re close – a few breaths away – he puts his hand over Mycroft’s heart. “I’ll stop,” he promises, eyes locked on Mycroft’s deep grey ones. “If you want me to.”

Mycroft’s gaze flickers between his eyes, his lips, and Greg leans forward, the last few inches. His heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest, but warm and soft, and Mycroft takes his bottom lip delicately between his teeth – not quite so chaste, this time –

When they pull apart, an exquisite flush tinges Mycroft’s pale cheeks. His eyes are bright, and deep.

“Friday,” says Greg, and it’s not a question.

“Yes,” answers Mycroft.

[genesisarclite]

Constants and Variables, Pt. VII

This chapter was a lot of fun. I laid out the rough outline first, changed my mind more than once about what would happen, then went back and spent a couple hours rewriting and expanding it. I wanted it to have a... surreal quality, like a waking dream, so I would recommend listening to something similar to this while reading, as it’s the kind of music I listened to while writing it.

note: Melanie and Kris were inspired by the krogan bickering about “Presidium fish” from Mass Effect 2. it’s a silly aside to ground this story’s increasingly surreal atmosphere. 

For over a week, Morgan didn’t appear. Jason worried, sitting at his desk and staring at his terminal without seeing, while Mika, sometimes joining everyone else in the cafe, asked once where he was. Alex didn’t turn up, either. The doctors and nurses and technicians could say nothing about what had happened. Aislinn went about her rounds, and she got very good at keeping her mind off the vice president and on her tasks. The question of “where is Morgan” only rose to her lips once, when she had to visit the trauma center after slicing herself open by accident, but the nurse couldn’t answer her, only giving her a hopeless look while he patched the wound.

During that week, she didn’t bring boxes to his office, as Jason turned her away every time she approached the keypad. She worked in silence around him, noting the creases in his forehead. Whatever happy spark she’d known before was gone, a sensation shared by other execs and high-ranked personnel she came across.

By the time the end of her shift rolled around and the weekend had come, exhaustion led to her collapsing in her pod and sleeping for six straight hours.

When she woke at midnight, the sheets were tossed about and her stomach empty, so she got up.

She had never wandered around Talos this late, when the majority of employees were asleep. Most of the lights in Crew Quarters were turned low and soft, aside from some safety lighting and ambient illumination in the corners. She followed the hall past the mid-level suites, moving as quietly as she could manage, the hall lit only by recessed lights, most of the nooks filled by thick shadows that seemed to waver around her, as though slinking about, predatory. Even the central lobby lacked its normal luminance, fingers of shadow forming where the lights did not reach and slinking their way up to the tall ceiling, so dark that it looked like a gaping maw staring down at her.

It unnerved her; she hunched her shoulders on instinct, eyes darting back and forth, questioning her sanity in choosing to leave the relative safety of the pods.

The Moon and Sun were out of sight, bathing the station in darkness.

Her work boots made soft thumps on the plush carpet as she ascended the wide staircase to the Yellow Tulip balcony. All of the large lamps that usually shed brilliant golden light upon the balcony were shut off, leaving only the safety lights in the corners and along the walls. None of it quite reached the ceiling here, either, and so she walked through a haze of darkness, picking her way past flowers closed up for the night.

She looked left through the huge windows of the bar to see most of the lights turned off there, as well, aside from the faint red light of Tizzy as it floated about, tending to things here and there.

The threshold of the bar was dark; she hesitated and looked all around, rubbing her arms. The shadows were so deep in places that she felt as though something hid there, waiting for her to walk past before leaping out. The moment she let her guard down, she would be lost to the darkness.

Nerves, she told herself, but her eyes flicked back and forth all the same.

She crossed the threshold, receiving a welcoming beep from Tizzy, but it otherwise left her alone – programmed not to disturb the night shift, perhaps. In the corner, Duncan left a box for night workers to pick from if they needed a snack; she opened it and picked out a can of green tea, now at room temperature, and a bag of tomato jerky. The box was mostly full, so she didn’t worry too much about eating from it tonight.

As she sat down at a side booth, she heard the sound of a pair of footsteps approaching and glanced over to see two night workers, both women, one with light brown straight hair and the other with much darker curls. She recognized them right away as Melanie and Kris, maintenance crew who kept odd hours. They both had engineering expertise, so they rarely had an Operator in tow, and always hung around together. From what she’d been able to gather, they bickered quite a bit, yet they were good friends, and their sniping never seemed too hostile.

The curly-haired woman carried a lamp in one hand, spilling a pool of blue-white light before her. It reflected off the glass and metal of the bar, scattering it in wild patterns all around. Aislinn moved a little closer to the wall. Something about the scattered light and inky shadows disturbed her, in a primal sort of fashion, but she couldn’t place why. It made no sense – she had only been afraid of the dark as a small child, and had welcomed it when she could on Earth, enjoying the sights and sounds that came with the world’s night.

Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling. Removing a glove, she rubbed at the injection site over her eye.

The light bobbed around, disembodied, before Kris hung it on a loop jutting from the wall. The pool now bathed both women in light, casting enormous copies of their bodies in black, sharp-edged ink on the walls. “Duncan said it was back here.” Kris knelt at the back of the bar wall and withdrew a flat-headed screwdriver, which she proceeded to wedge between two panels. The screwdriver glittered in the light like a metal fang. “Gotta just pop this off.”

“I’ve got a crowbar on me. Might work better?”

“Yeah, probably. Gimme.”

Aislinn opened the bag of jerky and popped open the can. Neither sound disturbed the engineers, too busy were they at the panel to pay her any mind. Tizzy floated out from behind the bar, stared at them for a minute, then went back to whatever it had been up to, out of sight once more. The smell of green tea and ham-flavored tomatoes mingled and made her wrinkle her nose – it reminded her a little of poor-quality dog food.

“So, Kris,” Melanie said, dropping to one knee, “heard anything about Morgan?”

“No. Figured if he’s dead, they’ll tell us. Hold here.”

“I just hope he’s okay.” Melanie gripped the edge of the panel while Kris pried at it from the other side. “It bothers me so much, knowing he got hurt, but not knowing how he’s doing. Some of the other people I’ve talked to, they're just as bad. Some are really worried. Do you know Jason Chang, Morgan’s secretary? He’s not sleeping.”

“Morgan’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Kris popped the panel off. It clattered to the ground. “Why’s there another one back here?”

“You think they’d tell us if he was dead?”

“Melanie, I know you’re fascinated with Morgan. I really don’t care to hear about it right now.” Kris shoved the panel to the side and bent down further before laying flat on her stomach and turning over onto her back.

Melanie shook her head. “Can you blame me? And don’t be so insensitive, Kris. He’s the vice president. People are gonna worry, and that’s okay. I’m not as worried as some, but I still am. Can’t imagine how Alex feels...”

“I seriously don’t get your hype.”

Melanie’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Very funny.” Pause. “Wait, you don’t?”

“No.”

“Kris, have you seen him? Especially when he’s... well, working out?”

“No.”

“You’d get it if you did. Those workout clothes are something to die for on him. They let you see everything. He has some really wide shoulders, and a real deep chest. It’s good reason to work out more, just to see that. And that voice...”

“Don’t care. Hand me that wrench.”

“It’s like... melting butter. No, wait, fondue, over butter.” Melanie blinked, then muttered, “Does that work?”

“I really don’t get how you think it’s okay to fantasize about your boss.”

Aislinn took a swig of the tea and studied the bag of the bag. Since the day she had arrived, she’d heard other women fawn over Morgan, but not one had ever dared attempt to get close enough to do anything about it. None were as close as her, not even the female techs he worked alongside – at least, as far as she knew. He was the object of many a wandering eye, just far enough out of reach to be a true fantasy.

How many of those women knew she worked close with him, been seen with him, spoken extensively with him? Would they be jealous of her, or would they just not even care?

“He’s not exactly my boss. Besides, it’s not like I ever talk to him. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating him from afar, you know. His eyes are so gorgeous, you know? Color of dark chocolate. Could stare at them for hours.”

Kris growled at the second panel before popping it off. “Cool.”

“Those eyes, that voice, make me wanna–”

“Stopping there is a good idea. Ah, here’s the break he told us about. Tizzy! Shut off the tap for me over there!”

Tizzy beeped an acknowledgment. Something squeaked.

“Cool. Okay, let’s see if we can...” The wrench slipped out of her hand and banged on the fallen panel, drawing another curse from the woman. She contorted her body to avoid having to sit up, ending with a comical pose of her folded nearly sideways and stretching out with one arm, snagging the wrench with her fingertips, then carefully dragging it inch by inch back over until she could return to her original pose.

“These uniforms are pretty tight, and when he walks by... have you ever looked at him from behind?”

Kris sounded pained when she said, “Stop.”

“You can really see how much he works out when you look at him from the back. The way that bu–”

“I have a screwdriver, Melanie.”

Melanie toyed with the panel on the floor a moment. “He kind of... I don’t know, sashays when he walks. In a very, very manly way, mind you. Makes it real hard not to see he got the boo–”

“Screwdriver I has, Melanie.”

Aislinn concentrated on not choking on a mouthful of jerky. It was inappropriate to talk about the vice president that way, of course, but Melanie didn’t seem to care one whit. It was an appreciated distraction, though – a bit of humor in the middle of the night, drawing her mind away from its worries for a little while.

And Melanie only voiced the lingering thoughts in the back of her mind. While she’d never fantasized that way, nor had she ever looked him over very extensively, she wasn’t blind to his attractiveness. With the way he carried himself, the confident swagger and the cool, steady eyes, he wasn’t either.

“Oh, c’mon, Kris, you can look.”

“Apparently I gotta remind you of my fiance back on Earth, which I’m, y’know, due to visit in two months. Look, I already got the best guy in the universe to fantasize about. Drooling over our boss isn’t how I wanna spend my time. Now shut up and hand me that other wrench. Other wrench. Other wrench. Thank you.”

“Kris, he’s really sexy and you know it.”

“No, he’s attractive to some people, and I'm not one of ‘em.” Kris popped a piece of pipe off and inspected it under a light that hung from her utility belt a moment. “Go fabricate me one of these,” she said, slapping the pipe into Melanie’s hand and nudging her knee with one foot. “Go on, go.”

Melanie stood and swiped her hair behind one ear – not pulled back like it was supposed to be, maybe because there wasn’t anyone around who cared that it didn’t fit regulation. She then turned on her heel and speed-walked out, leaving Kris on her back and staring at the ceiling in silence for a long time. In the dim glow of the safety lighting, it was hard to make out more than the basics of her expression, but she seemed content to just lie there a bit.

“Sorry about Melanie,” she said suddenly, picking her head up to look at Aislinn. “She’s probably mid-cycle.”

Knowing to what she referred, Aislinn hid her smile. “It’s cool. I got it.”

“Glad you do.” She dropped her head back.

Aislinn was halfway done with the bag of jerky when Melanie returned, handing the fresh pipe piece to Kris. The curly-haired woman then set to work putting it back in place, fiddling with the fittings on either end until a piece of sealant fell off in a crumbly mess. Muttering curses, Kris produced a tube of sealant from her belt pouch, screwed the pipe in, and carefully applied a line of the stuff to the gap that had resulted.

“How could you not be attracted to him? I mean, it’s like somebody whipped up a batch of pure hotness with him.”

“Melanie, I swear on all that is good...”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it, or noticed. He’s just so–”

“I don’t care.”

“But he’s just so sexy. You’ve got weird taste.”

Kris finished sealing the pipe and inspected the rest of it. When more of the old sealant crumbled off, she muttered something and produced a small brush with stiff bristles, sweeping most of the remaining stuff away. “No.”

“You’re such a liar and you know it.”

“He’s shorter than me. And he’s younger than both of us. Quit acting like a lovestruck teen.”

“So? Shorter doesn’t mean anything. He’s smart, he’s hot, and he’s got a voice that could melt butter just from being in the same room with him. Look, I’m not the only woman who–”

“You’d sooner find a gold nugget under your pillow tomorrow morning than get him to pay attention to you.”

This time, Melanie hesitated before saying, “I... I know. All of us do.”

“Then why bother with the impossible?”

The woman shook her head again, hair sifting around her shoulders. The light scattered on the individual hairs, making them glitter like silver strands. The dance of light and shadow drew Aislinn’s eye, making her skin prickle. What was wrong with her tonight? Had something woken her, and she just couldn’t remember it?

“Alright, you win.” Melanie shifted her weight, running a fingertip across the floor. “I’m done.”

Aislinn carefully sealed what was left of the jerky and rolled up the bag, drained the rest of the can, and crushed it into a metal pancake before making her way out.

She took the can to the recycler and carried the jerky with her, but didn’t return to her pod, instead wandering into the darkened Rec Center to see what she else she could find. Everything was still, the massive television in the main seating area off, and only a few safety lights had been left on, providing just enough luminance for her to avoid stumbling around. Ignoring the stairs to the upper floor, she instead stood in the darkness for a while, arms folded, leaning against the wall, and gazed out into the main seating area in silent wonder.

The station always seemed to be brimming with life. Even now, when the shadows were long and thick, and the lights were low, she could still somehow feel the sensation of life, humming through the metal and the ever-present breeze brushing across her cheeks and through her hair. The night crew was fastidious and discreet, flitting from shadow to shadow as they worked. Even the Operators seemed to have been programmed to keep quiet, their machine songs kept to a minimum, and the station slept in peaceful quiet otherwise. It felt like a warm blanket, enveloping her and beckoning her to sleep, and the longer she stood there, the quieter her mind became, until her eyelids felt heavy.

Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that every single shadow watched it – formless, ethereal creatures, creeping along walls and ceilings, waiting for her to turn her back so they could pull her down into the darkness. Something had awoken her, she reasoned, but no matter how deep she delved into her memory, whatever dreams she’d had before waking would not return her searching. Perhaps it had been a nightmare. Perhaps it had been nothing.

It took a minute, but she made out a shape, human, on the sofa in front of the darkened television, barely visible as a dim gray outline against the black.

Her chest tightened in a swift contraction, pulse skipping, a quick intake of breath rasping down her throat, and she took a swift step backward. The suit bumped the wall before her body did, a dull thud that seemed too loud in the silence. Pulse rapid in her chest, she tried to regain control of her breathing.

For a moment – just a moment – she had slipped into some dreamlike state where every shadow was a demon.

Something had awoken her that night. But what?

Her skin prickled, and her footsteps, even dulled by the carpet, seemed far too loud, breaking the beautiful silence.

“If you’re trying to be discreet, I heard you when you first came in.”

The voice sent a jolt up her spine. The spark spread to the tips of her fingers, where they curled and uncurled at her sides. The leather of her gloves made quiet creaking sounds. She walked slowly over to the sofa and sat down on the other end, staring at the gray shape, searching for his features.

He moved then, to the corner, and switched on another safety light. Its warm golden glow provided just enough light to make out his features when he sat back down.

Seeing him again was like being punched in the stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She remembered sitting with her head in her hands, panicking until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Whatever she was to him, she knew what he had become to her, and it scared her half to death, because he was her boss, the vice president... and she had to force herself not to stare at him, not to think, not to dream. Not to want.

Because she could appreciate his features and his attention, but anything more than that–

Even to herself, she sounded like a broken record.

“Was wonderin’ how you were.”

Morgan studied her a long time, sleepy, arm resting on the back of the sofa, body canted at an angle that told her he just wanted to curl up right there and go to sleep. Except for a bit of darkness under his eyes, he seemed fine, the bruise gone from above his eye, hair back to its usual cut. “Couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams.” His brow wrinkled, lips pursing, but the expression vanished a few beats later. “It’s quiet here. Helps me think.”

“Right.” Her hands fiddled in her lap as she tried to look polite, studying him, tracing the angular bone structure and the distinct slant of each eye, the way his hair fell over his forehead in a sweep of deep brown. The strands shone gold in the light, a play of light and darkness, unsettling her all over again. The conflict of his familiar presence and the cold, deep darkness of the strange shadows made it difficult to focus.

And unfortunately, the sleepy, intimate atmosphere made it very, very difficult to ignore how very alone they were.

He blinked, leaning slightly toward her, then said, “I know you.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “Well, I’m–”

“Wait, please.” His voice was soft, almost too low to hear, and it fit the ambiance perfectly – sweet, sleepy, warm, inviting, far from the cold eyes and metal walls she’d encountered before.

It sent a shiver up her spine.

“I know you.” The words came out a little raspy. “I do. I know you, but... I don’t know how I know you. Who... what... are you to me? How long have I known you?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Aislinn Kelly, part of the maintenance sector. I stock things, like your office.”

“You stock... my office.” The frown deepened. “My office. Have we spoken before?”

Lie, her mind said. Her mouth said, “Lots of times.”

“Yes. Yes, we have. Aislinn.” Recognition spread across his features. “I... it seems I know you from a previous trial or two. I had the same sense of deja vu when I ran into some of the–” He clamped his mouth shut and looked away from her.

“I know about the trials,” she said. “Told me when you first started ‘em.”

His eyes returned to hers. “What else did I tell you?”

The breath she took this time felt chilly in her lungs. “That you wanna play the piano, and you like caramel-flavored coffee. This and that, really. That your...” Did she need to tell him this? But maybe it would be enough to convince him, and then she could leave, and sleep in peace until the station’s “dawn” arrived. “That... your middle name is Tyler, and that you don’t much like it, so you don’t go tellin’ people it.”

In the light, his eyes shone, the shadows falling across his features as soft as his voice. “You’re right, I’m not keen on telling people that name. That means... you’ve been close, to me, throughout these trials, one of the constants.”

“In a sea of variables, yeah. But I wouldn’t say... ah, ‘close’ is the right word...”

“But it’s good we ran into each other again.” He settled back into the sofa. “I’m here not just because the dreams woke me up, but also to get away from my brother. He worries, way too much. I’m still his ‘little brother’.” Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back. The light now fell across his throat and outlined his jaw – a line she followed, not unwillingly, with her wandering and appreciative eyes, down to where it melted into the uniform.

“You look like you need more sleep,” she said.

“Sleep will come later. Thinking comes now.” He folded his hands in his lap, the corner of his lips turning up. “I’ve run into you a lot, haven’t I? The trials have been going on for a long time.”

She uncurled her fingers and took a deep breath. It was just Morgan. “And I’m in your office, stackin’ things and catching you hunched over somethin’ every time, usually two or three times a week. Haven’t been up recently, since you went AWOL on us. Can’t tell me about that, though, right?”

Deep breath and soft exhale. “No, sorry.”

“Not surprised,” she muttered, lowering her head into one hand as she propped that elbow on a knee. “Funny we both couldn’t sleep and all. Didn’t have bad dreams, but I just slept for six straight hours and just... woke up. At least...” Without meaning to, she looked around again. “...I don’t think I dreamed, but I don’t... know for sure.”

“But keeping odd hours isn’t a bad thing.”

“Not... no, not usually,” she said with a nod, “but I don’t normally wake up like this.”

“You sound a little distressed. Something bothering you?”

Again, she looked around. “N... no, I’m just fine.”

“Aislinn,” he said, “you wouldn’t be jumping at shadows, literally, if you were.”

For a moment, she closed her eyes, gathering herself. She could trust him, she knew she could. The only thing holding her back was herself, and no shame existed within the desire to be comforted. “Just... the shadows, like you said. Somethin’ about them doesn’t feel right, like they’re... looking at me.”

Something flashed through his eyes as the skin around them tightened. “Looking at you?”

“I... I just... no, it’s fine. Fine.”

Without blinking, he scrutinized her, the safety light reflecting in the depths of his eyes – a golden star, suspended in the cold blackness of space, the only source of warmth. Nothing of what he thought came to the surface otherwise. She couldn’t read him, and felt unnerved by his ability to read her.

Or perhaps she was being far too obvious, and he only perceived the surface.

“Like predators,” he murmured, “climbing on the walls and ceilings, watching you, with black teeth and claws. You can’t them, but they see you. Waiting for you to turn your back. Waiting to devour you.”

Aislinn blinked, unable to think of a response.

“I know how you feel.”

Ice water ran down her spine. “Don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t. Tell me something else. Anythin’ else.”

Morgan seemed to understand, though his eyes were thick with curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite make out, before he settled back into the couch once more. “Did I ever talk much about Alex?” he said. “I’m younger than him, you see, by five and a half years. We’ve always been close, and when Mom and Dad were running off to do whatever it was they did all over the world, representing TranStar, we still had each other. I’m old enough to take care of myself, and he still acts protective, like I’m just a kid. He’s been so worried about me lately.”

Remembering what he’d told her in the cafeteria all that time ago, she smiled a little. “He’s a good brother, then.”

“The best I could hope for.” Pause, then he lifted his head and looked at her. “Have any family?”

“Yeah, a sister and my Mum. Dad died a long while back.”

He hesitated, then said, “Anyone else?”

Just as before, the meaning was clear, but now, the words felt different. The only way she could think of to describe it was “warmer”, and she didn’t know how to interpret it. But she knew how she wanted to. “No one waitin’ back home besides my parents,” she said. “Been living with them to help pay bills and all. Not exactly high class, y’see, not like you.”

“Don’t think of me like that. I’m just Morgan.”

“Easier said.” She slid off the sofa and stretched her spine. “Should get goin’.”

“Aislinn...” Shifting position, he looked at her. “...I appreciate familiar faces. Alex, Jason, you, the neuromod techs... they're all familiar to me when I ‘wake up’. I know I’ve seen all of you before, even if I don’t remember it. You might be at the bottom rung of the ladder, but you’re more important than you know.”

“Only to you,” she said, feeling her ears burn. Did she seriously say that?

“Well... yes. We’re running trials and tests that will reshape the future of mankind, and I’m the guinea pig. I signed up for it, knowing the risks, knowing about the memory loss. We’re building a future so incredible that the people who come after us will never know the problems we have, but it’s daunting. To have familiarity is... comforting. I... I wish I could tell you what we’ve been working on. It’s exciting. It’s the future.”

“Happened to be in the right place at the right time,” she said, trying to ignore the heat creeping over her ears and cheeks. “It could’ve easily been someone else.”

“True, yes, but why would you want to devalue what you are to me right now?”

Those words hung between them for only a few seconds, but it seemed longer. She knew what he meant, but what she wanted to hear was hardly something she felt like admitting. She was just a friend to him, no matter how she felt about him, and in the end, the gap between them was simply insurmountable. As long as she didn’t ever act on the feelings that curled and knotted inside her, they could stay secret.

But he was making it increasingly difficult, and he probably didn’t mean to, but in the low light, with only his gentle voice reaching out to her, she couldn’t ignore how it made her feel.

“Morgan, when you were... out...” A hand ran across her hair, pushing the bangs away from her face. “I was worried.”

The silence hung between them a while. “A lot of people were, especially my brother.”

“Sure. You’re the vice president of TranStar.”

Pause. “Yes. I am. But you make it sound like that’s the only reason anyone should care if I live or die. You don’t think anyone cares on a personal level?” Another, longer pause. “Do you care?”

She frowned. “I... of course. You’re a colleague.”

“Aislinn, don’t be like that.”

“Well, I can’t go callin’ you ‘friend’, now.” The words came out sharper than intended.

“Why not?” He rose from the sofa and moved closer. “Because we happen to be from two different social classes? Come on, Aislinn, those kinds of things don’t matter anymore. Or what, is it because I’m the vice president, and you happen to be part of the maintenance crew? That shouldn’t interfere with a friendship, not ever.”

“May– maybe.” Beginning to relent, she met his eyes when he stepped a little closer. They were the color of dark chocolate, silly as the description was. So deep. So beautiful. So intelligent. “I guess not.”

“Things on Talos are pretty horizontal,” he said. “No one will care if I make friends outside the execs. Not even Alex.”

At her sides, her hands flexed, then went to her hips. “Alright, Morgan, you win.”

“Win.” He smiled faintly. “I asked you to call me that, didn’t I?”

“What, ‘Morgan’? Yeah.”

Again fell silence, though not so uncomfortable this time. She moved enough to pluck the bag of jerky off the sofa, where she’d left it when she sat down, but went back to a folded-arms, back-straight pose and not looking at him. If she left now, she wouldn’t think about him, wouldn’t close her eyes and see him smiling back at her, wouldn’t feel a little self-satisfied at the realization that the women who fantasized would never be in the position she was now.

“You’re not supposed to be rememberin’ things,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Neurmods’re supposed to take out all the memories. Keepin’ things isn’t in the contract when you get ‘em installed.”

“I know, but they’re not... memories. They’re more like... echoes.”

“But you’re not supposed to have ‘em.”

“I’m the first person to do long-term testing of neuromods, the first to deal with frequent uninstalls and reinstalls, and the first to be cognizant of everything that’s happening. Yes, side effects can be weird, but if you saw what we were doing, you’d understand why it’s so important.” He folded his arms. “But I know what’s supposed to be what.”

She still didn’t look at him. “Okay.”

Again, silence, then, “Come find me in the cafeteria in the morning. We can talk more then.”

Just a friend. “But you can’t tell me much, Morgan. What good’s it do?”

“Do you ever think that, maybe, I just want company?”

She hesitated. “That... depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Not sure how to explain herself without sounding foolish, she finally looked at him. “Never mind.”

“Aislinn–”

“I said ‘never mind’.”

Looking taken aback, he blinked, once, twice, before hmming and turning his back. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No, no shifts tomorrow. Got a whole weekend scheduled off for once.”

“Must be nice.”

She stared a moment. “You’re stayin’ up, then?”

“For a little while.”

“Morgan, c’mon, you need sleep. Bad dreams won’t be back.”

Instead of responding, he switched off the light again and sat down. It took a bit for her eyes to readjust enough to see his dim outline, and he wasn’t looking at her. When she still got no response, she turned and left the area, trying to set each step down gently enough not to disturb the peaceful silence.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Aislinn hesitated, looking over her shoulder at his outline, but from this distance – nearer the poker table and one of the big safety lights – it was too far to make out any real details. She didn’t like the weight behind those words. If he remembered her, and other people, even if vaguely, what else did he remember?

By the time she returned to her pod, she felt groggy enough to rest, so she rolled down the shutter and went back to sleep.

For a few minutes, anyway, before a sound roused her again.

Her eyes flicked open to a habitation pod zone full of thick shadows, tinged faintly purple. They wavered at the edges as though ruffled by a breeze she couldn’t feel as she swung her legs over and listened. Dead silence greeted her, except for a faint hissing sound at the edge of her hearing. In the other pods, she spied faint outlines of people, all of them asleep. Most other items in the area – the lockers and pool table, mostly – were smaller than usual, and there were fewer lockers.

Or were there? Maybe there had only ever been those many, and she just hadn’t noticed.

She slid out of the pod and landed gently, despite being up in the second row, without having to climb down like usual, a nice change from the usual rattling of joints that accompanied an exit.

Her footsteps were soft, legs slow, as though moving them through water instead of air. Her limbs felt heavy, and she saw everywhere at once, things she had never seen, the ceiling and shapes and faces. The hissing sound, ever present, changed slightly, dipping and rising and swerving, as though trying to form words. The shadows moved, still present wherever she looked, all of them still gazing at her as though she were prey.

The door was quite far from the pods to Crew Quarters, but in moments, despite her slow steps, she was in front of it and stepping over the threshold. The hall was shorter than usual, maybe half the normal length, and the lobby beyond well-lit, the purplish tinge now wavering at the edges of the shadows, but everything else seemed normal.

The hissing grew louder. They want to live inside us like a disease.

She looked all around, searching for the source of the raspy voice, but still heard nothing, so she continued on, toward the cafeteria. The journey was oddly short, yet her legs still moved as though weighed down by lead, every step laborious, her breath coming in deep, slow inhales. She smelled nothing at all, which seemed odd, as the Talos air always carried some scent of another part of the station with it.

The cafeteria looked normal, well-lit, the windows showing the normal panorama of the stars. Aislinn hesitated, then moved closer, ascending the stairs to the second floor, step by slow, arduous step, and stood in front of one of the enormous windows. It seemed odd, no Sun, only the night side of the Moon visible, and no Earth at all, but she thought nothing of it, trying to ignoring the hissing as she gazed into the cold blackness.

Maybe it was morning, and that’s why the lights were on. She hadn’t checked the time.

Her eyes moved from the stars to examine the void. She didn’t normally spend time looking between the stars. It was too deep, too cold, too far, too strange. Right now, though, she found it impossible to look away, compelled to stare. Far beyond her sight, beyond their most powerful instruments, lay an entire galaxy, a universe, of wondrous possibilities, unspeak

The darkness looked back at her in ponderous silence.

Aislinn leaned closer to the glass and pressed a hand to it. Her hand lacked a glove, and the glass felt very cold against her skin – strange, because it never did, but she ignored it for now. The darkness tugged at her, beckoning her to look deeper, and she felt it stare at her, into her eyes, into her mind and her soul.

The distinct feeling of something being there, that she couldn’t see, watching without being watched, left her cold.

Something is there. Something is absolutely there, looking at her.

Aislinn, suddenly afraid, felt a strong urge to look away, but had frozen in place, mind urging her body to move, but it did not obey, joints locked, the darkness pouring into her until she trembled head to toe. The hissing grew louder, words wandering in and out of her mind, and the longer she looked, the more the terror grew, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came, jaw moving in an unnatural fashion.

I looked into the darkness, and the darkness looked back at me.

There’s something swimming in the black.

I see you.

Her body cracked to pieces when she finally turned. A humanoid shape approached, its outline like smoke, its limbs facsimiles made of shadow. From the top of the stairs, it came toward her, formless but for the dim outline, until two white lights appeared where the head should be, spaced apart like eyes, but they were not eyes, they couldn’t be, because eyes didn’t look like that. Tendrils of smoke and shadow stretched out.

A third white light appeared below the other two, but it just grew, ever larger, too large for the head, but the head expanded into an enormous shadow that closed off all the artificial light from that direction. The maw glowed, but emitted no light, casting nothing despite its ever-increasing size.

Then it distorted, twisting, the glow breaking up into streaks of white interspersed with darkness.

Her chest hurt and her limbs shook as it came closer, the light gaping at her as the shadows reached for her. She tried to run, scream, anything, but her body would not obey her.

–immortality immortality humanity better stronger faster smarter immortal immortality immortality immortality immortality stronger better smarter IMMORTALITY–

Faint color rushed back into the world, and she cried out, tangled in something that snagged her arms and legs like a cocoon. It kept her prisoner in a box of metal, shadows still trying to wrap around her, but they began to fade. Her pulse hammered in her chest, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Something clanged when she kicked out, the cocoon wrapped so tight around her that she panicked more, thrashing about, the mysterious paralysis finally gone.

“Aislinn! Aislinn! Hey! Aislinn!”

And after those few seconds of pure panic, she snapped into full wakefulness, the hissing shutting off like a thrown switch and the shadows gone. The blankets of her pod had become tangled around her legs, but a quick tug loosened them as the shutter for her pod suddenly rolled up, exposing a concerned female face framed in dark blonde hair, large eyes sparkling in the safety lighting as they studied her.

Aislinn felt her ears burn, but quickly dismissed her embarrassment. She hadn’t actively invited an episode of disturbed sleep, and certainly had wished no nightmares upon herself. “I’m okay now.”

“That was a pretty weird scream, you know.” It was Annalise Gallegos, someone she’d met in passing more than once, but knew little about. She didn’t even know the other woman’s position, only that she shared the habitation pod zone with her, and had barely spoken to her otherwise. “You okay, then?”

Aislinn glanced around to see several other curious faces and a few annoyed ones. “Yeah, just nightmares.”

Annalise frowned. “Nightmares, huh? This happen often?”

“No, first time I had one on Talos.”

The woman was silent for a long time. The faces went back to their pillows, shutters closing. “Well, okay. If you have more, go talk to Kohl, okay? He specializes in that sort of thing.”

“Thanks. Think I’m fine now.”

Annalise climbed down and walked away to her pod, while Aislinn laid down and tried to sleep, but the fear of going back to the nightmare realm of violet shadows and smoky demons kept her awake until the day began in earnest.