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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

´till death do us part

@911lonestarangstweek day 4 - m is for...mcd, mourning

if you saw my posts about the 'crying fic'... this is it

thanks to liz and @halsteadmarchs for the beta!

ao3 | 5.5k | major character death, hurt/comfort, mourning, non-linear narrative, car accidents, hopeful ending

This is a mistake.

It’s been a long time since Carlos last did this, but not long enough at the same time. His friends would disagree with him—they tell him he needs to get back in the game, and it’s well-meaning, but they don’t get it. They don’t know how hard these past few years have been for him.

They don’t know what it’s like to lose the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with; they don’t know what it’s like to go from being engaged one day to alone the next. In fact, there’s only one person Carlos knows who even has a hope of understanding, and he really doesn’t appreciate the irony that it’s the one person he’s guaranteed to never see again.

It’s not that he meant to turn himself into a recluse after it happened; he knows that’s not what he would want for him.

Thing is, Carlos isn't sure that he gets to have an opinion anymore, since he was the one who left. Carlos doesn’t blame him for what happened—that would be stupid—but sometimes, sometimes, he just gets so damn angry at him.

(he always feels guilty for it after, which is equally as stupid as the anger. there’s no one left for him to direct it at, after all)

Carlos sighs, shaking his head as he steps into the bar. He doesn’t want to be here—he wouldn’t be here, but Michelle had threatened to make a special trip back to Austin specifically to kick his ass if he didn’t at least give this a try.

This, being the blind date his friends had insisted he go on. Technically, he could leave and still not be lying when he tells Michelle he went—he is in the bar, after all—but Carlos has never liked the idea of standing someone up, no matter the circumstances.

So here he is. Alone at a bar, nursing a lukewarm beer, and wishing he were anywhere else.

Someone slides into the seat next to him, and Carlos barely gets a second to prepare himself before he’s met with a winning smile and sparkling green eyes.

God, why did they have to be green?

“Hey,” the guy says, still smiling. “Carlos, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Domenic.”

Carlos is still trying to catch his breath, his head thumping back against the wall of the bathroom stall they’ve ended up in, when lips brush his ear, hot breath sending electricity down his spine.

“I’m TK, by the way.” The whisper is rough, a smirk laced into it, like TK knows exactly what he’s done to him.

And Carlos is so far from fully-functioning that the only response he can come up with is a breathy, “I know.”

TK pulls back, his brows furrowing though there’s a wry quirk to his lips. “Didn’t take you for a Star Wars fan, but okay.”

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to frown as his addled brain struggles to put together TK’s thought process there. “What?”

“Never mind.”

Well. This took a turn. Carlos has no idea what’s going on, but there is something in the back of his mind that tells him he must have sounded like a creep, telling this guy he’s pretty much only just met that he already knows his name. He gestures lamely towards TK in explanation. “Your turn-out coat at the scene the other night. I thought it probably stood for something but then one of your team—Marwani, I think?—called you. So.”

Carlos shrugs, embarrassment quickly catching up with him, which seems absurd given what they just did. Then again, it’s been a long time since he’s done anything like this; he’s more of a wine-and-dine kind of guy than the type to make out with a near stranger in a less-than-sanitary bathroom.

But there’s something about TK Strand that has Carlos wanting to know everything about him.

And if everything starts here, well. He’s more than happy to take it.

Thankfully, TK seems to pick up on the sudden awkwardness in the stall. He takes a couple of steps back until he’s leaning against the opposite wall, which doesn’t really put that much space between them, but Carlos appreciates it all the same.

“So, do I get a name, or…?”

The question has Carlos flushing all over again, turning a bright red when he sees TK’s smile. He clears his throat and smiles, trying not to wince. “Carlos.”

“Carlos,” TK repeats, dragging the syllables out like he’s testing the sound of them on his tongue. Carlos shivers a little, his breath catching in his throat at the small smile that spreads across TK’s face.

Then a phone is being thrust in his hand, unlocked and opened on the Add contact page. “Put your number in,” TK says. “In case you ever, you know. Feel like doing this again.”

A thrill runs down Carlos’s spine at the thought that TK wants to do this again. Maybe he’s not the only one who feels this connection. Maybe…

Well. It’s too soon for that. But as he types in his number, Carlos can’t help but wonder where, exactly, this road might lead.

His house is quiet when he gets home. It’s a familiar kind of quiet, one that’s lain over the place like a blanket ever since that day three years ago. Carlos has gotten used to it over time, and he thinks that maybe it’s eased a little—but only a little.

Things haven’t changed much over the years. TK’s stuff still decorates the house, not as much as it used to, but Carlos hadn’t been able to bring himself to remove the stuffed bear that sits on the chair by their bed, or the plastic duck TK had insisted they have in the bathroom for ‘the vibes’, or the hand-sewn heart a little girl whose parents TK had saved had gifted him, which hangs proudly in their front window.

And the pictures; Carlos refuses to take the pictures down. The one sitting on his nightstand had been turned over for a long time after the accident, but now he can’t imagine going to bed each night without seeing it. It’s from their engagement party, a candid captured by Evie, a professional photographer in the making according to Tommy.

Carlos is inclined to agree—the photo, showing him and TK looking at each other, wide smiles on both their faces, is his favourite thing in the world.

His phone rings, making him jump. Carlos sighs heavily when he sees Michelle’s name flash up on FaceTime and he briefly considers declining, but there’s no way she’d be deterred so easily.

He takes a second to get himself together, then answers, plastering a smile on his face. “Hey chica.”

Michelle doesn’t waste a second in getting to the point. “So,” she says, leaning forward and grinning, “how’d it go?”

“It went.”

Her smile falters and she frowns, scrutinising him. “Did you even go?”

“Yes.” Carlos purses his lips, not wanting to get into it anymore, but Michelle is insistent and he’s too tired to make excuses right now. “His name is Domenic, he’s nice, I’m not seeing him again.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Carlos.” Michelle sighs, her voice going quiet. “It’s been three years.”

“That’s not a long time.”

“I know.”

“I still dream about him, ‘Chelle,” Carlos cuts in, sudden tears overwhelming him. “I still—I still think about what I could have done differently to save him, I still imagine the future we could have had. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. I don’t know if I can stop.”

“When Iris disappeared—”

“It’s not the same,” he snaps, harsher than he means to. “You always had that hope, right? Everyone was telling you Iris was dead, but you always believed that she would come back. And she did, and I am so happy about that, I am, but guess what, Michelle? TK is dead. He’s dead. I’m never gonna see him again—in fact, the last time I did see him, it was when his body was lying in a morgue, and he was so cold and so still and so—so not TK that I could barely believe it was him.

“But it was, because he’s dead. It’s not the same.”

He’s properly crying by the time he finishes his speech, and Michelle has tears in her eyes too. Carlos feels a little guilty now, but he can’t bring himself to be fully sorry for what he said. Still, Michelle looks crushed, and Carlos can’t lose his best friend.

One more loss would kill him, he thinks.

“Michelle, listen—”

“It’s fine, Carlos,” she interrupts, swiping a hand under her eyes. “You… You’re right. It’s not the same. I’ll just. I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sorry the date didn’t work out.”

Then she’s gone, and Carlos is alone again, the weight of it settling uncomfortably on his shoulders.

Their first real date is painfully awkward, reminiscent of covert high school meet-ups with boys in the nearby diners, or like that one time Carlos tried using a dating app. That had been an experience he’d wanted to forget, but now he finds himself recalling it in horrific detail as he and TK sit on opposite sides of a table, a plate of limp fries slowly cooling between them.

“So—”

“I was thinking—”

They both speak at the same time, and an embarrassed flush rises on Carlos’s cheeks. He swallows past the lump in his throat and gestures to TK, barely able to look him in the eyes. “You should go first.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “I was about to tell you the same thing. Since when have things been this awkward between us? We fucked on the floor of your front room about a week after meeting, surely we should be well past this stage by now.”

He has a point.

Carlos laughs too and finally works up the courage to meet TK’s gaze. “I mean, it’s not like we were doing much talking back then.”

“Things are a lot simpler without clothes,” TK agrees, a suggestive lilt to his tone and, somehow, it’s all that’s needed to break the tense silence they’d previously been suffering in. Carlos grabs a fry, grimacing at the grease that instantly coats his fingers, and points it at TK.

“Cool it, Strand,” he warns. “You aren’t going to find it that easy to seduce me anymore.”

TK grins, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Officer.”

Carlos is surprised when he wakes up the next morning to a text from Domenic.

Hey, it reads. Sorry about last night. I know that you’re not into me or whatever and that’s cool, but I like you. Do you think we could maybe still be friends?

He sighs and drops his phone onto his bare chest, arm flopping onto the other side of the bed. It’s funny, he thinks idly; before TK, he’d tended to sleep closer to the middle and it had never bothered him. Now, it feels weird to break from the way things used to be—in Carlos’s head, the left side is still TK’s, and the right his.

He knows what Domenic’s text implies. ‘Let’s be friends and then we can see how it goes’. Carlos could tell him now that it’s not going anywhere and save them both the trouble, but he kind of...wants a friend.

It sounds pathetic, even to his own ears, but all his friends are either fellow cops, the 126, or Michelle, who’s in another state. And Domenic was nice. So, really, what’s the harm?

Twenty minutes later, they have plans to meet at a coffee shop.

Ten minutes after that, Carlos arrives.

Carlos startles as TK’s arms suddenly slip around his waist, his chin pressing into Carlos’s shoulder. He quickly relaxes into the hold, covering TK’s hands with his own, but TK isn’t fooled.

“Where did you go?” he murmurs, breath tickling Carlos’s neck.

“Nowhere,” Carlos answers. “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well…” He hesitates, biting his lip, then spins to face TK, letting their still-joined hands swing in the minute space between them. “This is crazy, right? Not, like, bad crazy—well, a little bit bad crazy; our last place did burn down—but all of this. Getting a house together. Three bedrooms. All of it. It’s crazy.”

TK grins, the little frown that had emerged at Carlos’s first words quickly melting away. “Completely,” he agrees. He kisses Carlos briefly, then steps away, breaking their hands apart to tread a slow circuit around their new front room. Carlos watches him fondly, somehow falling even more in love with him.

“You know,” TK says suddenly, his eyes roving around the empty space, “I’ve never actually done this before.”

“What do you mean?”

He waves his hands, gesturing at the flaking paint on the walls and the lack of furniture. “Decorated a house. I had an apartment in New York but that came fully-furnished and I didn’t exactly have a ton of stuff to add. And then when I moved here with my dad, I didn’t care too much about how the house looked, and you know how my dad is about interior design. It’s a little...scary, thinking about doing it now, with you.”

Carlos’s eyes widen, his heart clenching at the words. “Do you… Do you not want to do this?” he asks, half-dreading the answer. He’d thought they were both on the same page here, but what if… What if…

“What?” TK frowns, crossing the room in three quick strides to meet Carlos. “Babe, no, of course I want to. It’s a good kind of scary, I promise.”

“You sure?” Carlos scans his boyfriend’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or anxiety. But there is none, and TK just smiles, kissing Carlos’s cheek.

“A thousand percent,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

(‘Fun’ isn’t the word Carlos would give to what came next. ‘Frustrating’, possibly. Or ‘exhausting’. Maybe even ‘interminable’.)

(But, at the end of it all, they have a home. Their home. And Carlos can see their future taking shape before his very eyes.)

Domenic grins when he sees Carlos approaching him, and a part of Carlos regrets even agreeing to come. But he can hardly turn around now, so he forces a smile and slides into the chair next to him, extending a hand to shake. Domenic sends him a strange look at that, but obliges anyway, shaking Carlos’s hand with a surprising firmness.

“Hey,” he says, still smiling.

“Hey.” Carlos sighs, taking in Domenic’s bright eyes and warm, hopeful face, and decides, fuck it. “Look, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I’m not looking for anything right now. My friends set me up on that date with you—and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good guy, I honestly do, but—”

“Carlos.” Domenic appears to be fighting off laughter, though he’s not entirely successful in it, a brief chuckle slipping past his lips. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I really am okay with being friends. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing where it goes, but…”

He trails off, seeing what must be obvious doubt on Carlos’s face. “Look, I’m kind of new in town, alright? I don’t really know many people around here, and I’m just...fuck, man. I’m lonely. So if you wanna be friends, then that’s incredible and more than enough for me. I swear.”

And Domenic is looking at him so earnestly that Carlos really has no choice but to believe him. He feels himself flushing a bright red, embarrassed at how self-centred and narcissistic he must have seemed, and a stammered apology is halfway out of his mouth when Domenic reaches over and lays a firm hand on his arm.

“It’s no big deal,” he says, patting once before drawing back. “I do want to ask, though, if you don’t mind? Why did you come on the date if you didn’t want to? Not many guys would.”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “My friends think I’m turning into a hermit. It’s an assessment that I...wouldn’t disagree with. Let’s just say you’re not the only one looking for a friend.”

Domenic’s eyebrows quirk up in interest. “Oh? Anything to do with your unwillingness to date? I mean, a guy like you—it’s hard to imagine that you don’t have men practically throwing themselves at you. Maybe even literally. How come you’re still single? Is there...someone else?”

Carlos’s whole body tenses at the question, his gaze dropping to his hands and his heart in his shoes. Tension lies thick in the air, and he feels the sudden urge to flee, but he’s rooted to his chair, stuck under Domenic’s scrutiny.

“Shit,” Domenic says, voice hushed. “Carlos, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Fuck, forget I said anythin—”

“I was engaged.”

Carlos hadn’t meant to say it. He doesn’t know why he did. It’s just… He hasn’t really talked about TK properly with anyone in the three years since; his friends were all TK’s friends too, and they all knew him—knew them.

This is the first time he’s actually spending time with someone who didn’t know, and it’s not freeing exactly, but it’s the first time he feels free to speak about TK the way he wants to, without anyone else’s memories looming over it.

“I’m not anymore, obviously,” he laughs wryly, finally managing to look back up at Domenic, finding shock on his face. “It was… It ended.”

Domenic’s mouth opens and closes several times before he’s able to pull himself together enough to speak. “Who called it off?” he asks—which was not what Carlos was expecting. “Because if it was him, man. He really missed out there.”

Carlos hesitates a moment, then answers, “It was him. But it wasn’t on purpose.” He breathes out shakily, swallowing hard. “He died a month before the wedding.”

Carlos smirks as he hears a groan at his back, glancing over his shoulder to find TK pretending to bang his head on the table. “Having fun, babe?”

Another groan. “Let’s just elope. Let’s get married in some random courthouse by some random Texas official. That way we wouldn’t have to figure out stuff like a seating plan or—or what kind of cake knife to use. I mean, babe.” TK sends a pleading look in Carlos’s direction, and Carlos can’t help but laugh, cruel though it feels when TK’s wounded expression just gets worse.

“I’m pretty sure my mother and your dad would kill us if we did that,” he points out, causing TK’s mouth to twist.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“No, you don’t.” Grinning, Carlos turns back to his chopping, except, when he reaches out for the next ingredient, he only meets empty space. “Mierda. TK, babe, can you run to the store? I forgot the chilis.”

“Can’t you just leave them out?”

There’s a hopeful note to TK’s tone, but Carlos stands firm—his cooking is the one thing he’s able to resist TK for. “You’d think you’d be used to spices by now,” he comments. “And the answer is no; go on. You’ll barely even taste them.”

TK mutters his disagreement, but he gets up and leaves anyway. Carlos watches him go, shaking his head fondly before returning to dinner. Technically, he could leave the chilis out, but he’s been brought up to consider even the mere suggestion as sacrilege, and he’s not planning on letting TK persuade him otherwise any time soon.

Twenty minutes later, he’ll regret that decision more than anything else in the world.

“Carlos, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—”

“I want to. As long as you’re okay with it; I don’t want to just unload all over you.”

“It’s okay, I promise. What are friends for?”

Carlos frowns, checking the clock. TK should have been back by now; the store is only a five minute drive from their place, and surely he would have texted if he was going to be delayed. He’s about to call him himself when his phone starts ringing, TK’s name flashing up on the screen.

He sighs in relief, answering the call. “Did you get lost or something?”

Silence.

“TK?”

Nothing again, and Carlos’s panic starts to skyrocket. “TK!”

And, this time, he gets an answer.

“C-Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart drops into his stomach at the rasp of TK’s voice. He sounds like he can barely breathe—in fact, if Carlos strains to listen, he can hear stilted, ragged breaths coming through the phone’s speakers. TK is hurt, probably seriously, and, fuck, it was Carlos who sent him out in the first place, this is his fault, he—

“Carlos, please.”

He breaks out of his spiral and clutches his phone tight to his ear, racing around the house to get his shoes on and grab his keys. “TK, where are you? I’ll find you, I promise I will, and you’re gonna be just fine, okay?”

TK doesn’t speak for a few seconds, before, “No.”

Carlos screeches to a halt. “What?”

“I don’t—I can’t tell you where I am. I don’t know. And there’s—there’s no time. No— Someone found me, they called 9-1-1, but they won’t—there’s no time.”

“TK, don’t you dare give up, okay, don’t you dare talk like that. You just need to focus on my voice and stay awake for a little while longer and then they’ll get you to a hospital where they’ll fix you up. You’ll be good as new right in time for the wedding.”

“The wedding. Carlos, I—”

“And if this is your way of getting out of making all the decisions, then it’s a little bit over the top, you know? I mean, point proven and all that, but you could have just told me.” He’s getting hysterical now, he can feel it, standing in the middle of his front room trying to keep his fiancé alive and talking when he’s god-knows-where in god-knows-what condition.

But, as always, TK is there to centre him again. “Carlos, stop, please.”

Carlos doesn’t know if it’s the way TK’s voice is getting quieter and quieter, his energy obviously flagging, or if it’s his pleading tone, but he’s suddenly struck completely still. He can’t move a muscle, every sense tuned into whatever is happening on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t—I don’t want to spend the time we have left lying to each other,” TK eventually says, his words riding on broken breaths now. “I don’t want to leave you, but I think… No, I know that I have to now. I’m s-so sorry. I wish… I wish we…” A gasp, and a horrific cough that sounds like it’s tearing TK apart. “I love you.”

Carlos doesn’t get a chance to reply before there’s a loud thud, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what caused it.

TK dropped the phone.

TK passed out.

It’s salt in the wound when, seconds later, Carlos hears the wail of sirens approaching the scene.

There are tears dripping down his face as he tells Domenic of the sheer, gut-wrenching panic and fear of those next few minutes.

How he’d been unable to put the phone down, instead listening as the screech of machinery and the raised voices of firefighters and paramedics drifted through the speakers.

How the noises had dimmed when they extracted TK, and how Carlos had strained to listen as the paramedics began to work on him.

And how, when he’d heard those final words, his world had come crashing down.

“I’m calling it. McRae, radio it in to the ME’s office.”

This isn’t happening.

Carlos cannot be sitting in his parents’ backyard, at his fiancé’s wake, in the same place and wearing the same suit that he was supposed to be getting married in a month from now.

He—

Fuck.

Carlos presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and curls in on himself, barely suppressing a moan of agony at the pain in his chest. He’s distantly aware of everyone’s gazes on him, but he can’t stop this tidal wave of emotion anymore than he can turn back time and change the fact that TK is dead and that Carlos failed him.

TK died all alone, and Carlos didn’t get the chance to say goodbye or tell him that he loved him. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak at the funeral—the one thing, the last thing he could do for the love of his life.

Instead, when it was his turn to speak, he’d been frozen in his chair, eyes locked on the coffin—(and, fuck, TK was in there, that was TK, fuckfuckfuck)—and Judd had had to take over.

Carlos hadn’t heard a word he'd said, though he’s sure it was beautiful, and everything that TK deserved.

Everything that Carlos couldn’t give him.

He failed him, he failed, he—

“No,” a hushed voice says, warm arms pulling him into a tight hug, and Carlos must have been talking aloud without realising because the voice keeps reassuring him. “You didn’t fail, sweetheart, you didn’t, I promise. You were there for him at the end and that’s all that matters; that he wasn’t alone when it happened. I know it hurts but it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”

Carlos tenses, wanting to scream at whoever’s holding him because how could anything possibly be okay? But when he pulls out of their grip, he sees that it’s Gwyn, her eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and all Carlos can do is fall apart in his not-quite-mother-in-law’s arms.

She keeps whispering that it’s okay, and Carlos knows that it’s as much for her own benefit as for his.

“Hey sweetheart,” Carlos whispers, getting out of his car and leaning against the closed door. He always comes here when he wants to remember TK; it is where they said goodbye to him after all. And it’s the place where they had so many important moments—it’s where they became official, and where they finally spoke openly and completely with each other for the first time, and where they got engaged.

It’s their place, ridiculous as it might sound.

“Remember that night?” he asks, even now feeling a little self-conscious talking to the air. “I made you a picnic and we came out here to eat it and you somehow managed to get chocolate on your nose from the chocolate-covered strawberries.” Carlos chuckles, then sighs wistfully. “You were so beautiful. I had this whole plan to propose to you, but one look at your face and that damn bit of chocolate and I forgot the entire thing.

“I just blurted it out, right there and then. ‘Marry me, Tyler Kennedy’, and you said yes, and it was perfect.”

He blinks furiously, tears beginning to blur his vision. “I thought… But it was too perfect, I guess. Perfect things never last, and since I was never going to leave you, the universe forced you to leave me.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s nothing you don’t already know, and I’m not sure if I even believe that you can hear me. I never used to, back when we were together, but things change when suddenly the one who’s gone is someone you love. I’d give anything, Ty, anything to talk to you again, so I’m here.

“You know… Just in case.”

His hands tremble and he swallows reflexively against the pain and grief crawling up his throat. He reaches inside the car through the window and grabs the bouquet of flowers he brought with him off the passenger seat.

It’s the same one he always brings whenever he comes out here—red camellias, hydrangeas, blue salvias, and forget-me-nots—all flowers that have meaning to them and their relationship. Hydrangeas for understanding; it had been the first flower TK had given him, his way of saying thanks for sticking around even after their disastrous beginnings.

The camellia, Carlos had gifted TK one anniversary. It means ‘you’re a flame in my heart’, which TK always was, always, and Carlos had found it a little funny too, given TK’s background. TK had loved it, and had made sure to tell Carlos in as many ways as he could think of that he felt the same.

The salvias were something they both did, often and at random, sometimes with no particular reason. Just whenever they wanted each other to know they were thinking of them—though, that was something they knew anyway.

Carlos had added the forget-me-nots himself after… After it had happened. It’s a reassurance, both to him and to TK, that he’s not forgetting; that he never will.

That he can’t, even now, three years down the line.

On shaky legs, he walks over to the tree a little distance away, laying the bouquet between the roots almost reverently. Carlos stares down at them long after he’s straightened back up, leaning against the tree, and he allows the memories and the pain to overwhelm him for a moment.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?” he asks the empty air, shaking his head. “I swear, I still miss you like it was yesterday; it doesn’t seem real that I haven’t seen you or kissed you or heard your voice in three whole years.

“I’m going to see your dad later. He’s… He’s doing okay, all things considered. He misses you—we all do—but I think he tries to hide it, like he has to be the strong one for everyone else. Don’t worry though, Ty, we’re looking after him. Making sure he doesn’t, you know. Do anything stupid.

“Your mom helps out a lot too, her and Enzo and Isaac. God, TK you’d be so proud of Isaac now—he’s started school, making loads of friends, and he’s just… He’s such a good kid. I wish you could see him; he was so young when you— You’d be amazed at how big he’s getting. And, hey, we’re making sure that he knows who his big brother was, so...so don’t worry about that either.”

Carlos hesitates before continuing; it feels weird to talk about Domenic here. He doesn’t need to, he knows—technically, there’s nothing even going on between them, though Carlos couldn’t deny how good it had felt when Domenic had hugged him when they parted ways after coffee. But there’s been a weird lump of guilt sitting in his stomach since that first date at the bar, and Carlos figures that TK deserves to know about it.

Even if he’s three years dead and probably can’t hear any of this.

“I met someone, you know,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “It’s not like that, we’re just friends, but I think… I think maybe it could be like that? Maybe? I don’t know, Ty. I thought I’d never be able to love anyone in that way ever again, but Domenic is so kind and sweet and he makes me wonder if there’s a chance.

“I’m terrified. It’s—It’s stupid and selfish, but I’m so scared of getting hurt again, of having to go through what I went through with you again. Not that I blame you for the accident, it’s just… I can’t do it again. I can’t.

“God, even considering this feels like I’m betraying you. I do hate you a little for that; you still own so much of my heart and I’m never getting it back, whereas all I have of you are your hoodies and your mugs and that goddamn stuffed bear. Why did you have to go and ruin me like that, huh? Why, TK?”

He’s almost shouting now, but the question fades unanswered into the air, and Carlos’s anger vanishes with it. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t hate you. I love you so much, and I always will, but I think maybe it’s time for me to let some of that go. I can’t carry on like this for much longer; you understand that, right?”

And maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but the breeze picks up a little then, gently ruffling Carlos’s curls, and it feels like… It feels like peace.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment, it’s like he can feel TK there, like he never left at all.

I know, it feels like, his voice ringing loud and clear in Carlos’s head. I love you.

“I love you, too,” Carlos whispers, opening his eyes. TK isn’t there, of course, but, somehow, he doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

Then, with one final glance at the flowers, Carlos turns and walks away, his heart feeling lighter than it has in three years.

#911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #michelle blake #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userbones #userjillian #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #reyeslonestartag

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dwimpala-67 · 3 years

Text

Whatever Happens....

My two cents on the whole Prequel-Gate ...

Warning: The opinions expressed are purely personal and have no bearing on any person and if they do it’s merely coincidental and are without intention. If you choose to read this, it’s solely at your own risk and the writer is not responsible for any consequences thereof.

Jared and Jensen have been at the heart of Supernatural for past fifteen years. J2 - along with the show have been the source of joy for everyone in the fandom. We’ve seen them grow up, seen their friendship evolve and seen the way they interact with each other. We fell in love with them, with the beautiful friendship they share, and their compassion and empathy and strength and understanding. These two beautiful individuals weaved their way into our hearts. Somehow, they’ve become a part of our lives. And we trusted them, like we do with any individual that is close to us in real life.

The end of Supernatural was bitter sweet for many of us, especially the J2 shippers. We could see our beloved show being ruined and we all thoughts perhaps, it was time to end it but secretly still wanted a miracle to happen and the story line to be back to its true canonical nature without the OOC story line that was being fed to us. Then came the announcement that Supernatural would end with season 15. Even if we knew the it was inevitable, it was still a shock. We have a saying back in my culture: “Whatever has a beginning, has to have an ultimate end.” And true to that, it was time for Supernatural to end. It doesn’t mean we had to be happy about it. After all, this was the show that meant a lot, personally to many of us. To see it coming to an end was painful, shocking, even heartbreaking. But we accepted it eventually because life must go on.

With end of the show, we had to accept another reality. To watch our lovely pair - Jared and Jensen- go their separate ways. For 15 years, there never has been a moment where J2 weren’t in each other’s pockets. We saw them refusing to acknowledge personal space, saw them making heart eyes at each other, saw them going on dinner and lunch dates, saw them living together, getting married the same year, saw them grow their family together, saw them living in Austin together, saw them doing campaigns together, saw them golfing together, saw them being there for each other, making each other smile, saw them having each other’s back. We practically saw their love blossoming - for some it was a unique friendship and for some it was more than that. I don’t mean to point anyone out here, but the bottom line is that everyone of the J2 fans saw an ideal relationship between two people we loved the most. We choose to believe in what we saw. And for us to suddenly see them being away form each other was hard to digest. It still is!

But we chose to believe everything was good, because we believed what our eyes saw. The way Jared and Jensen talked about each other in interviews even after the finale, the way they spoke at the virtual conventions, the way they interacted on social media and even the few instances of fans seeing Jared in Colorado exactly the time it was Jensen’s birthday, the way Jared knew about Jensen’s Soldier Boy suit before anyone else, and I could mention countless such instances that made us believe that the relationship these two idiots share was special and perfect. The kinda thing that can be called “made for each other.”

One fine day, we came to know not everything was as we believed it to be. It turned out Jensen did something by not telling Jared anything about it when the latter has been an integral part of the original concept. Everyone was beyond shocked. Each one of us felt betrayed, angered, pained at the way our beloved pair had a public fallout. Some chose to take sides and some decided to leave the fandom while others decided to be angry and disappointed in Jensen. There was despair all around and no one knew what was going on behind the closed doors. The only thing we knew was Jared was hurt and Jensen was the reason behind it.

I won’t go into the what, why and how of the whole fiasco, because by now, everyone has their own theories as answers to these questions. I have mine too. I see these theories as some sort of “justification” from our side to make sense of the situation. It’s not wrong because we’re searching for answers. We’re also searching for answers we will never get. (Unless either of the J’s decide to speak on it.) But there are a few questions that I feel are important to be addressed.

Do we have the right to feel angry and hurt over the issue? Absolutely Yes.

Do we have the right to take sides? Of course.

Are our feelings of hurt and pain that we resonated with Jared valid? Hell yes.

Everyone has a coping mechanism and the initial emotions or reactions were absolutely valid. However, it’s what happened later that has me thinking.

1. Do we have the right to know what happened behind the scenes? Probably but we would never. There lies the uncertain feeling of “how should I proceed from here?” and “How do I feel about it?”

2. Do we have the right to demand an explanation or an apology from Jensen? Absolutely no.

3. Do we have the right to throw vile words at/abuse the people involved? Hell no.

I would like to look at the whole thing in perspective. This has affected many of us and perhaps woken us up with a hard slap of reality.

For all of the 15 years, we’ve been fed with the “happy couple” image and for us, maybe the boys became the image of the “perfect couple with no issues” and when there was a very public spat between the two, there was a serious damage to our perception. This is where people didn’t know how to react. Many spoke out their emotions clearly, many were sad, confused and scared and many decided to be bitter. Few decided to leave I have no problem with it, I don’t judge, as I said earlier everyone has their own coping mechanism.

I feel like the issue is, as fans we are here to celebrate and have fun and not become entitled to know the truth or demand answers from the celebrities. Sometimes we forget entitlement is a delusion based on self centeredness. The demand to know what happened or the demand for Jensen to apologize in a particular manner cannot be the way we deal with the situation.

We need to consider the fact that the people we idealize, in this case J2, are also that - “people” or “Humans” to be more precise. Humans make mistakes. Just like we do in our everyday life. the problem with celebrities is, anything they do feels like “more than life” size. Even a small compliment makes us go “aww” and a disagreement/misunderstanding makes us go “Omg! They’re enemies.” It’s normal reaction because we hold them in the highest regard like “celebs/fan favs can do no wrong.” So, when this happened with J2 everyone had a reaction like this was the end or it has ruined it for me, or I’m done with this fandom. There were also a few reactions like anger and entitled demands. I always say false sense of entitlement always brings you doom rather than happiness.

The fact remains, Jensen disappointed all of us. A huge blow was dealt to the “happy couple” image and we all were left floundering. I was observing the reactions and I suddenly realized I’m far too much invested into the lives of two actors whose lives are already complicated. I mean, after the entire chaos, I too felt sad, angry and disappointed. It was upsetting me more that it should. Fandom is a space where I come to escape from real life. But if Fandom starts affecting my real life so bad as to make me upset, I felt like there’s something wrong. It shouldn’t be the reverse of what I would rather have the fandom to be, which is a happy place or the place where I go too relive my stress. And if the apparent relationship status of two actors affects me this much, it’s time to take a step back, evaluate and then proceed.

the other day, I was reading a twitter thread full of theories and according to the fans who was right and who was wrong and etc, etc, etc. I found, it shouldn’t matter to me to judge who was right and who was wrong. I’m in no position to judge who felt what, because in no way am I the party involved in the conflict. It’s a conflict between J2, who had some issues obviously and they manages to talk about it and even let us know that they are good. Now, I personally, felt like if the J’s claim they’re alright, then why should I doubt or even theorize about how their friendship has taken a toll. If someone tells me they’re fine, I usually believe them to be fine, unless I see something contrary to the fact. In this case, either of the J’s didn’t comment further on the matter and just as I was watching everyone calm down, other elements decided to jump into the muddy waters and splatter it everywhere.

The interesting thing about Kripke’s tweet was “assumption.” This word “assumption” is a very interesting word and has the capacity to blow up even the most calming waters. So, Kripke assumed, and then based on Kripke’s assumption, everyone else assumed. I’m just pointing out what happened, in no way am I justifying any of the J’s behavior. Just a thought. So assuming Kripke was right we assumed Jensen deliberately kept Jared out of the project and the issue escalated even more. Everyone was jumping the gun and then as miraculously Kripke has tweeted, he also deleted those tweets. Then came the damage control.

When Jensen and Jared had tweeted about the “truce” I thought the matter was supposed to be put to rest. Perhaps Kripke deleting the tweets and then Jensen going back to promoting his prequel was their way of brushing off the conflict and focusing more on what was more important to them: The Winchesters prequel. Another theory to add to the already existing million ones..lol.

Does this mean we should be hateful and abusive towards Jensen? No.

Our feelings of disappointment are valid but it doesn’t mean I have aright to be abusive at Jensen. No matter how he acted nothing gives me the right to throw abuse at anyone unless I’m the one who’s directly involved in the conflict. They way I see it, as a fan, I was hurt and caught off guard but I am in no position to judge either Jensen or Jared, especially when they say they’re alright. I decide to trust them. I choose to trust them, just I chose to decide they were the made for each other friends in the past.

There’s this another saying that I remember “To Err is human, to forgive is Divine.” It’s not as if either of the J’s have been flawless as a person. Everyone has some shortcomings and so do they. As a fan, I need to find the same level of “acceptance” that I do when I’m in the similar situation in real life. As a fan I need to accept that Jared and Jensen too are going to have some issues going ahead in life. Just because they are actors doesn’t mean there won’t be miscommunication or misunderstanding. They’re not perfect. They are bound to make mistakes. Just think that because this was a very public fallout, we came to know about the disagreement, try to think that in past 15 years how many times did the J’s had these disagreements and had to deal with them without telling us? No matter how huge fan you are, no one can ever claim that they now what goes behind the scenes in the celeb’s lives and same goes with J2.

We know what kinda place Hollywood is, and the J2 tinhats already have theories about bearding and stuff, and yet the J’s have remained positive throughout. There must have been contracts and papers and the “powers that be” who are involved in regulating their lives. It’s one of the many countless possibilities. We don’t know many things about their lives (even we’d like to claim otherwise). The information we get is just a 0.01% of what actually is happening. All we do is “assume” on the basis of their SM interaction or the way J2 appear in public. It’s all imagery.

They’ve been a source for inspiration for many. So, a public fallout doesn’t mean we should overlook the past. But we choose to look at it in a way that is suitable to us. Again, there’s nothing wrong with that. If some of us feel like siding with Jared, it’s all good and if some of us feel like siding with Jensen, it’s all good. It’s their personal opinion and no one has the right to judge them or call them out for that.

For me, I’ve come to a conclusion that the secured bubble that I was living in has finally burst and given me a chance to look at things objectively. No matter what happens in future, I’m here to stay as long as I enjoy the fandom. If I let it affect me more than is plausible, perhaps then it’s time for me to rethink about the power I give the Fandom over me. Because it’s my choice. I alone have the choice to either let the negativity affect me or see the positive side. There’s a saying that goes, “You yourself alone are your own enemy and your true friend. The choice is yours.”

If J2 claim to be alright with each other, then I choose to believe them. Reason is simple. Because it helps me find some peace. It helps me cool down my emotions and helps me go back to enjoying the little things in fandom that bring me happiness.

Don’t get upset with people and solutions because both are powerless without your reactions.

Let the drama continue....

After this, if you fell like unfollowing me, the door is always open.

In the end, whatever happens, happens for good. If it’s meant to be, then I’ll be the happiest and if it’s not, well, it’s beyond my control.

I love them both.

Peace and Love.

- A J2 fan.

#j2 #winchester prequel #my opinion #j2 tinhat #I believe j2 are going to be fine #supernatural #spn #my thoughts #no hate

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arcturusreads · 3 years

Text

Like Home - Merhayes

Based off a prompt that I got on AO3 where Meredith has to treat one of Cormac's son.

When Cormac had got the text from Irene, he had been frantic. Dropping everything he was doing, he sprinted down to the ambulance bay, ignoring the calls from his colleagues asking what was wrong. He wasn’t able to stand still as he waited for the rigg to pull in. As the door opened, Cormac ran straight towards the gurney, where Liam was curled in pain.

As the paramedic gave the information to the resident, all Cormac could focus on was his son. “Liam, son, what happened?”

He looked up to Irene who had an arm wrapped around Austin. “He came home from school and said he had some stomach pain and wanted to sleep it off. But when he woke up he couldn’t move from the pain and started throwing up.”

A million different diagnoses ran through Cormac head, all of them worst case scenario. “You’re going to be alright, son.” He ran a hand over Liam’s hair as they docked him in a bay in the ER.

“Da, it hurts so badly.” Liam’s voice came out as a croak as he clutched his side.

The look he gave his father reminded Cormac of when Liam was a little boy. The look when one of his toys had broken and he just wanted Cormac to fix it or when a kid had said something mean to him in kindergarten and he couldn’t understand why. It was a look that made Cormac’s heart ache because he never wanted to see his kids in pain.

“We’ll get it sorted, Liam.”

Schmitt was about to start his examination when Cormac stopped him. “Schmitt, can you page Grey down here please. ASAP.” He saw the way his soon was holding his side as he doubled over in pain.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Schmitt paged Meredith 911, knowing that it was the only way she was going to get down her quick enough for Dr Hayes.

“You’re a good resident but-“

Levi shook his head, “He’s your son and you want the best for him. I get it.” To be honest, Levi was pretty relieved. The Chief of Paediatric Surgery was a little intimidating and he didn’t want to be the one in charge of his son’s care whilst he was in the OR.

“Da,” Cormac looked up to see Austin looking worried. “Is he going to be okay?”

Cormac held his arm out, beckoning Austin to join him and pulled him into a hug. “Your brother is going to be just fine, Austin. Grey will get him sorted in no time.”

“Can’t believe. You’re using me. To see. Your crush.” Liam just about managed to tease his dad through the pain. The comment was enough to ease some of the worries that the Hayes clan were feeling, making Irene laugh.

A minute later, Meredith came jogging into the ER. She looked around the department to see if she could find the source of the 911 page when Levi came up to her.

“What’s the emergency Schmitt?” She began to pull her hair into a ponytail.

“Uh, not exactly an emergency I guess.”

“Then why the hell did you page me 911?” Meredith had been in the midst of sorting out the rota for her department. With Jo having swapped specialities and no one having replaced her, rotas were like a game of Tetris these days.

“It’s Dr Hayes, his son came in with severe abdominal pain.” Levi quickly justified his actions, “He’s in bay 13.”

Meredith quickly walked over to the bay yelling a thanks to Levi over her shoulder.

“Liam, hi, I hear you just got admitted.” She began to pull on some gloves.

Liam managed a nod as he gritted his teeth in pain.

“Thanks for getting here, Grey. Irene said he’s been complaining of abdominal pain for about two hours now. Pain got worse and he’s been throwing up because of it.”

“Alright then, I’m just going to take your temperature, if that’s okay?” Liam nodded again. “Can you tell me roughly where the pain is?”

“Around the right si- ow!”

Cormac winced as his son cried out in pain. He knew that Meredith was working quickly but he just wished that he could get his son out of pain right now.

“Okay, well you definitely have a fever. I’m just going to do an abdominal ultrasound to see how your appendix is looking because there’s a good chance this could be appendicitis.” She looked up at Cormac as she spoke, hoping that the news might calm him down a little bit. If it was appendicitis, treatment would be straightforward enough and Liam would be fine in a week at most.

Irene moved out of the way as Meredith pulled a stool over to Liam’s bedside and got the ultrasound machine ready.

“I know it’s painful and uncomfortable, but do you think you can lay on your back for me and lift up your t-shirt.”

Slowly, Liam uncurled himself, biting his cheek from the pain he was in and rolled his top up.

“Perfect, the gel is going to be a little cold, okay?”

Liam had his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out how much pain and discomfort he was in. He barely heard Meredith and just nodded at her, he was up for whatever would stop this feeling.

Running the probe over Liam’s abdomen, Meredith could feel Cormac presence behind her. “Hayes, back to the other side of the bed.” She didn’t even bother turning to look at him and she took a closer look at where Liam’s appendix was.

“I’m a doctor.”

Rolling her eyes, she spun in the stool to face Cormac. Steely gaze on him, “Right now, you’re his dad. And funnily enough I know how to read an abdominal ultrasound. Move. Now.”

Realising that there was no way he was winning this fight, Cormac walked back to the other side of the bed. Had her nephew not been in so much, Irene would have laughed. She hadn’t seen Cormac be put in his place like that since her sister had been alive. That was definitely something she was going to have to tease him about when Liam felt better.

Turning back to the scan, Meredith had a proper look at the appendix before switching the machine off and grabbing some paper roll to wipe the gel off of Liam’s stomach.

“Your appendix is looking very swollen so I’m pretty sure we just have a bad case of appendicitis.”

Cormac let go of the breath he was holding. Appendicitis was something that Grey could handle. She dealt with this pretty much every day.

“So, he’s going to be okay?” Austin looked at Meredith, the worry slowly easing from his face.

Smiling at him, she nodded. “I’m going to put you on some pain killers for now and just get some bloods just to make sure that it is appendicitis. And then we can schedule you in for surgery.”

“Surgery? Are you sure, Grey?”

Meredith looked up at Cormac, confused at what he was getting at. “Hayes, you know it’s better to remove it than risk the chance of it bursting. Nurse Kelly!” She turned away from him for a moment, calling to the nurse that was passing by. “Could you get Liam Hayes some painkillers when you’re free, please? And draw some blood from him, he has suspected appendicitis.”

“Of course, Doctor Grey, I’ll get them now.”

As the nurse turned away to grab the drugs, Cormac carried on. “But it may not burst.”

“And is that a risk that you want to take with your son?” She raised a brow at him.

Meredith had lost count on the number of cases they had gone toe-to-toe in but when it came to his son, she had not been expecting this much pushback.

“I can do an appendectomy in my sleep, Cormac. It’s a routine surgery and I’ve done hundreds of them. If you want me to call someone else to do it, I can. But you know as well as I do that surgery is the best course of treatment.”

“Sorry, Doctor Grey, I have the painkillers.”

Meredith thanked the nurse and moved out of the way so she could get to Liam. Cormac followed her as they moved a little away from the bay, out of earshot of his family.

“I don’t want anyone else to do his surgery, Grey. You’re the only person I trust but the thought of my son going under the knife…”

Placing a hand on his arm, Meredith smiled, “I get it. Honestly, I do. I lost my mind when Zola had to come in for surgery a couple of year ago but I’ve got him, Hayes. I’ve got your son and I’m going to look after him.”

Cormac took a deep breath, ran a hand over his face and looked back up at Meredith. He was stupid for being worried because this woman wasn’t just an amazing surgeon. She cared and he knew that she would look after his son with everything that she had.

“Grey, I’m sorry…” He trailed off, feeling slightly ashamed of himself for trying to argue against surgery for his son. A surgery he would have recommended to any other parent in his position.

Meredith shook her head, waving off his apology. “No need to say sorry. Nurse Kelly should be done with the bloods by now so let’s get Liam up to the paeds ward and prepped for surgery.”

“Lead the way,” Cormac gave her a small smile. He knew that her nerves weren’t going to completely go until Liam was out of surgery. Scratch that. Out of the hospital and acting like himself again.

After Liam had been taken up to the paediatric ward Meredith had to go and round on her patients on her own ward since there wasn’t another OR free for an hour and half. By the time the resident had come into the room to prep Liam, the painkillers had started to kick in and he was no long writhing in pain. Cormac hadn’t left his side but had ushered Irene and Austin off to get some food from the canteen.

They were back by the time Meredith had popped into the room to take Liam into surgery. Irene and Austin headed straight to the OR waiting area whilst Cormac walked with alongside his son’s bed.

“You’re going to be fine, son. In and out in no time.”

Liam rolled his eyes at his dad, “I know that Da. I’ve got the best general surgeon in the country operating on, according to you.” There was a teasing glint in his eye that Cormac wished his boys hadn’t inherited from him. It was no fun being on the other side of it.

“Actually, Dr Grey,” Liam looked at the other side of the bed where Meredith was stood. “Don’t you have more interesting patients to operate on. I mean an appendix doesn’t sound like the most fun thing for you to do.”

“And risk your father driving surgeons so crazy they quit? I don’t think so.” Liam and Meredith both laughed and whilst Cormac could have been annoyed that they were ganging up on him, he instead felt a warmth inside that his son was able to get on with Meredith so easily.

“Plus, you happen to be my most important patient right now.”

The bed came to a stop outside a set of double door and Cormac looked at Meredith, confused why they weren’t moving forward.

“You’re not going any further, Hayes.”

“What?”

“It’s surgical staff beyond this point and you aren’t working right now. Go and find Irene and Austin.” She softened her voice and her gaze, “I’ve got this from here.”

Cormac nodded and kissed his soon on his forehead. “Da, seriously?”

“Oh, shut it. I’m your father, I taught you how to use a spoon so if I want to kiss your head before you go into surgery then I can.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever.” Liam relented. “I love you, Da.”

“I love you to, Li. We’ll all be there as soon as you’re done.”

Cormac looked up at Meredith and gave her a nod, letting go on the handles on the bed. He watched as his son went through the door and only left when he was out of sight. The next hour felt like it lasted a decade and Cormac wasn’t able to sit still. He knew that he was driving Irene and Austin insane with his pacing but every worst-case scenario was running through his head.

Eventually, Meredith walked into the area, scrub cap on her head and a bright smile on her face. It immediately eased the nervousness that had been brewing in Cormac for the past hour. The Hayes clan immediately rushed over to her and Cormac attacked her with a million questions.

“Is he okay? Were there any complications? Did it burst?”

“Okay, just breathe.” Meredith laughed, holding her hands out in front of her. “Everything is fine. We managed to do the whole procedure laparoscopically and it didn’t burst. We’re taking Liam back up to his room and he should be coming around pretty soon. He’s fine, Hayes. I promise.”

Cormac almost went to hug Meredith before Austin interrupted. “Thank you so much, Dr Grey!” He was thankful that she had managed to get his brother out of surgery with little issue. After what had happened with his mom, he couldn’t help but worry that something was going to happen to Liam during surgery.

“It was my pleasure, Austin. Do you want to head up and see him?”

“Yeah, please. Is that okay, Da?”

Cormac smiled at his son, ruffling his hair. Of course, it is but you know you’re going to have to place nice whilst he recovers, right?”

Austin shrugged, “Can’t make any promises if Liam starts…”

Laughing, Cormac felt a weight off of his shoulders. The past few hours had been hell but at least he knew that his son was on the road to recovery now.

“Hayes, why don’t you head up to your office and get changed.” Meredith realised that he hadn’t bothered to change out of his scrubs. “I’ll go with Irene and Austin to Liam’s room. It might take a while for him to come around so just go and freshen yourself up.”

Cormac opened his mouth to argue but a glare from Irene stopped him, “You heard the surgeon, you look like a mess. Go.”

“Fine, I’m going!” Before turning around to leave, he looked at Meredith. “Thank you, Grey, for looking after him.

Meredith just smiled in response. She didn’t trust herself to say anything with the intense look that he was giving her. It made her legs go jelly.

Showering as quickly as he could, Cormac changed into his street clothes thankful that he was bald right now and didn’t have to deal with a mop of wet hair. As soon as he was done, he made a beeline to the paediatric ward and Liam’s room. He stopped as he passed the window and saw Meredith, Austin and Liam in there laughing about something. He grinned at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Meredith interact with his boys. Because it felt like home.

#merhayes #meredith grey #cormac hayes #grey's anatomy #excuse me whilst i rearrange the alphabet

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swiftgronmasterpost · 4 years

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Spring/Summer/Fall 2013 - The End(?)

Click here for an appropriately sad Swiftgron breakup playlist.

I don’t know if it’s important or not but Dianna wishes several friends a late happy birthday on twitter, apologizing for missing the actual day through this spring and summer. It seems like maybe she’s going through something (like a bad break up?) because it’s not like her to miss friends’ birthdays.

March 26, 2013 - Maybe a relevant tweet?

April 7, 2013 - Dianna tweets a photo of James Dean in a day dream like setting:

April 16, 2013 - The article that outed them:

Someone made a fake article that said Swiftgron was dating:

Dianna tweets seven times that day which is a bit much for her.

The hashtag here stands out to me:

The fake article goes viral and all week people are tweeting about the possibility that Dianna and Taylor are dating.

April 23, 2012

It seems to culminate on this day. Many people are buzzing about Swiftgron and this actress tweets:

That’s right at midnight.

About 12 hours later Dianna deletes her public Tumblr:

On that same day Dianna reblogs several things on her private Tumblr. These two stand out to me:

She reblogged both of these posts and the only hashtag they had in common was “#lost love” - she was searching that hashtag.

I think it’s very clear that today is the day Swiftgron 2.0 broke up. I believe they were forced to by their management teams due to being outed.

April 24, 2013 - Taylor seems regretful/stressed out she screenshots her text to Austin and posts:

I think Dianna’s obviously upset about this and as an act of defiance she tweets at Taylor a few days later (Taylor does not respond.)

April 29, 2013

Instead Taylor posts on Dianna’s Birthday (April 30) a silly google search (very DIanna in nature tbh) with a play on the lyrics from 22:

Taylor had the week of Dianna’s 27th birthday off of the Red tour (it was scheduled like that) but as far as we know they did not hang out.

May 4, 2013 - Ours

At her first show since their supposed break-up, Taylor performs Ours as a surprise song. She introduces it by saying: “This is a song about how, when you fall in love everybody starts to give you their opinion. I imagine it could be really hard to make a relationship last, I wouldn’t know. But, given that everyone is giving you their own opinion about it, I think that the only opinion you should really listen to is yours and if you love that person, that should be all that matters.”

youtube

Dianna dyes her hair brown and goes to Morocco a week later with Ashley (”You searched the world for something else, To make you feel like what we had”) from about May 11 - May 14 or 15. While there she attends the A Small World relaunch. ASW could be viewed as a bit “sketchy” if you will. I think this is where she befriends Olivia Wilde.

This is Dianna’s first (known) trip to Morocco (Derek Blasberg is there too) but she seems to be drawn there over and over again after this, even marrying Winston Marshall there (and possibly meeting another boyfriend, Gus Wenner there.)

May 19, 2013 - Billboard Music Awards in Las Vegas

Taylor wins 8 awards and says this during her acceptance speech:

This and the performance of Ours makes me think Taylor is bitter about a break up right now, even though publicly she broke up with Harry back in January.

This is also the event where Taylor is famously grossed out by Justin and Selena’s hetero nonsense and does this:

It seems like as always, Taylor has a lot going on right now...some kind of drama with Justin is boiling but it’s possible she’s also referencing her breakup with Dianna in her acceptance speech.

Dianna pops back up in NYC.

May 20, 2013 - WLW icon Kristen Stewart apparently spends the night at Taylors?

May 28, 2013 - Taylor plays Haunted on the Red Tour and gives a speech:

"This is a song that I haven't played on this tour so far. It came up when one of my friends tweeted the lyrics to it today and it reminded me that I haven't played this song in about two years. It has to do with the fact that, you know people talk about ghosts all the time. You just kind of imagine it being this supernatural thing, but there's another kind of ghost and it's just a person who is out there walking in the world or just doesn't love you anymore and that's a whole different kind of being haunted." Seems like she’s really going through it.

July 2, 2013 - Anniversary of Hyannis Port trip and interesting private Tumblr post from Dianna:

Bad things happen this summer. Cory Monteith passes away and Taylor is assaulted at a meet and greet by a DJ.

July 2013 - Dianna buys a house in LA (I Wish You Would)

August 2013 - Dianna’s whosirmesir moniker gets outed and she stops blogging under that tumblr account.

August 14, 2013 - Taylor is in a weird place according to the Lover diaries:

1. she seems to have basically written The Lakes here

2. she’s really harping on themes she ends up addressing in I Know Places, Out of the Woods, and Wonderland

August 29, 2013 - Dianna steps out with restaurateur Nick Mathers.

Not sure what to make of this one. Dianna seems to date two types of men: 1. teeny bopper actors for bearding and pr purposes (it generally seems) and 2. rich businessmen. Nick is type 2, but their relationship is reported on as if it’s PR. “Sources” call up gossip sites to fill them in on the relationship and both their projects get plugged along with announcements on them as a couple:

I don’t know if they were more or less legit but she goes out with Taylor five days later...

September 4, 2013 - The Fun! Concert:

Swiftgron’s last pre-Kaylor public sighting - they go to a Fun! concert in LA

It’s just a split instant of video footage but Sarah Hyland uploads this to Vine and it does not look like Dianna is enjoying herself:

Note: It kind of looks like DIanna has her arm around Taylor’s waist and also the person to the right of Taylor is Selby Drummond who is still friends with DIanna as of writing of this masterpost (December 2020) and who still appears to be a fan of Taylor’s.

Dianna does look miserable but I do think it’s interesting they seem to be making an effort to hang out on the two year anniversary of their public (perhaps private as well) first meeting.

Dianna tweets about the concert the next day:

September 6, 2013 - Taylor plays Speak Now as the surprise song on the Red tour. Interesting given the timing of Dianna and her new boyfriend being public just one week before this.

September 8, 2013 - Taylor plays Sad, Beautiful Tragic for the first time ever live and gives this speech:

"I kind of feel like playing a song I've never ever played live before. This is um a song that I wrote about how you know just because something's over doesn't mean it wasn't incredibly beautiful. Cause another lesson I've learned is not all stories have a happy ending and you have to learn how to deal with that. So this is a song about a story that didn't end so happily but was still supposed to happen. This is called Sad, Beautiful, Tragic."

I don’t think this song was originally written about Dianna but I do think at this time while they stumble through the last phase of their relationship Taylor was inspired to sing it.

October 2013 - Taylor writes I Wish You Would, a song inspired by an ex who had recently bought a house near her driving past her house. It’s thought to be about Harry but Harry didn’t buy a house in LA until March 2014. But of course we know Dianna did buy a house near Taylor’s in LA earlier this fall.

November 11, 2013 - The music video for “She’s Just Another Girl” premiers starring Dianna looking stunning in high fashion drag, dressed up as the lead singer, and lip syncing the words to the song:

Some lyrics to the song include:

All of my friends say I should move on She's just another girl, don't let her stick it to your heart so hard And all of my friends say it wasn't meant to be And it's a great big world, she's just another girl

I could be reeling them in left and right Something's got a hold on me, tonight Well maybe all of my friends should confront The fact that I don't want another girl

I think it’s at least possible that Dianna was drawn to this project because the lyrics resonated to her given what she was going through with Taylor at the time.

November 12, 2013 - Day of Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show rehearsals and Dianna posts this (now deleted) picture:

November 13, 2013 - Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show where Taylor performs and Karlie Kloss walks the runway.

Dianna posts this picture (now deleted) of her at Emma Stone’s birthday party from 11 months previous:

It’s likely she’s looking at Taylor in this photo who was seated across from her.

It’s a very random picture to post. It wasn’t titled as a throwback and it wasn’t an exact year after the picture was taken (prompting some kind of happy birthday shout out to Emma Stone or anything) - just a random picture of Dianna smiling, likely at Taylor.

November 17, 2013 - Dianna posts a (now deleted) photo about missing someone:

November 21, 2013 - Taylor posts lyrics from a hopeful love song about a troubled relationship:

Lyrics:

December 9, 2013 - Dianna listens to Pale Blue Eyes

Lyrics are about being emo over a lost love with Blue Eyes:

Sometimes I feel so happy Sometimes I feel so sad Sometimes I feel so happy But mostly you just make me mad Baby, you just make me madLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

Thought of you as my mountaintop Thought of you as my peak Thought of you as everything I've had, but couldn't keep I've had, but couldn't keep

Linger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

If I could make the world as pure And strange as what I see I'd put you in the mirror I put in front of me I put in front of meLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

Skip a life completely Stuff it in a cup She said, "Money is like us in time It lies, but can't stand up" Down for you is upLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyesIt was good what we did yesterday And I'd do it once again The fact that you are married Only proves you're my best friend But it's truly, truly a sinLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

December 11, 2013 - You know the drill...Dianna posts a now deleted photo to Instagram:

December 13, 2013 - Dianna posts an attention grabbing photo on Taylor’s Birthday

Conclusions - Swiftgron very clearly goes through a rough breakup due to being outed.

Then they attempt some sort of reconciliation - even hanging out (date night?) on the second anniversary of their Fairfax Flea Market meetcute, but it goes wrong.

Taylor is on tour for much of this time and Dianna is posting angst ridden and peculiar Instagram posts exactly at the time Taylor meets Karlie.

Click here to keep reading!

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hoseas-angry-ghost · 3 years

Note

YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THEORIES

Hello anon! I am very surprised anyone wants to hear my chutney but here's my Strange Man Hot Take with some hopefully interesting info for curious parties:

To be honest, R* included so much misdirection around the Strange Man's identity (especially in RDR1) that I'm not *totally* convinced they're married to any one idea. RDR2 also complicated things by introducing new religions into Red Dead's world (Voodoo, Old Norse, etc.): he's no longer limited to just Christian / Western interpretations, as in RDR1, and it's possible R* might try to syncretise him with figures from other faiths (they did place Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, where most of the Voodoo stuff is).

At the same time, though, I think RDR2 actually narrowed things down somewhat in terms of the direction R* chose to take his character, and what we were shown of that. There's still a level of misdirection in RDR2, but IMO, it almost comes off as half-hearted in comparison to what was basically trolling in RDR1 -- it seems like they were a lot more focused on playing the "bad news" angle the second time round.

Based on what we know, and on the balance of things, I'm not convinced that the Strange Man is necessarily meant to be any one thing or figure, but I do think he's meant to fulfil some type of Satanic role within Red Dead's world, either in main or in part.

I won't compare and dissect other theories or anything, I just thought I'd list off some things that people might find interesting:

Armadillo. The deal between the Strange Man and Herbert Moon seems to be a pretty textbook Faustian bargain: Moon is offered earthly rewards ("happiness or two generations"), and although the price was (tellingly?) never specified, it seems like the recent Blood Money update for RDO all but confirmed that the cost was probably his soul. Although it's left ambiguous what Moon actually chose, the Armadillo curse was possibly an unforeseen (for Moon) consequence of the deal's terms, which would fit with similar tales of the devil or demon in question taking liberties with their end of the bargain.

In the files, there's some great audio of Moon off the shits and straight-up saying "I've made a deal with the devil, and I will never truly die!" It's possible this was cut for its own reasons (too overt?), but as a lot of stuff was apparently cut from Armadillo, I'm guessing it was either cut when Arthur in New Austin got cut, or it was part of something that R* didn't have time to implement in the epilogue. Either way, if it's not actually in the game then it's not technically canon, but it is an indication of what R* was thinking during development.

There's a lot of audio from the Armadillo townsfolk in general about devils and "devil curses," but the only thing I know of that definitely made it into the game is a line from the town crier ("Devil has the town in his hand").

There's audio of the Armadillo bartender saying "I heard the Tillworths made a deal with the devil to keep from gettin' sick! I don't wanna die any more than the next man, but ain't no safety worth a man's soul." Possibly idle gossip, but given Moon, possibly not.

RDO seemed to flirt with the idea of soul-selling a little bit with Old Man Jones' line "Well, this is America, so anything can be bought -- even souls," but then RDO pretty much just came right out and said it with Bluewater John in the Blood Money update. Bluewater John also apparently made a deal, almost definitely with the Strange Man (given the Moon deal and how close Bayall Edge is to all the drama); he was based on blues musician Robert Johnson and the myth that he sold his soul to the devil for mastery of the guitar. It's basically a rehash of the Moon deal, except it's... not subtle in its dialogue about deals, devils and souls.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR ART, AND I LEARNED TOO MUCH AND NOTHING AT ALL" written on the wall at Bayall Edge also sounds like a reference to another one of these deals to me ("everything" being their soul, and "I learned too much and nothing at all" the foolishness of accepting eternal damnation for temporary knowledge). I think Bayall Edge might have originally belonged to a painter who struck a deal with the Strange Man for artistic skill, but then the Strange Man slowly possessed him or something -- which could be why some of the landscapes depict RDR1's I Know You locations, and why the writings on the wall kind of look like they deteriorate in quality. The puddle of blood at the foot of the portrait might also be linked to this somehow (whose is it?).

It's the deal-making for souls that really pushed the "devil" theory over the edge for me, because I can't think of whose wheelhouse that would be in except a devil's, or someone similarly malevolent.

Alternative name. The Strange Man's character model is called cs_mysteriousstranger in RDR2, and he's referred to as "the mysterious stranger" at least once in RDR1's in-game text. This could be a reference to The Mysterious Stranger, written by Mark Twain between 1897-1908, in which the stranger is a supernatural being called Satan. (At the end of the last version written, he tells the protagonist that nothing really exists and their lives are just a dream.)

Bayall Edge. Bayall Edge was possibly based on a Louisiana urban myth called the Devil's Toy Box, which is "described as a shack. From the outside, it is unappealing and average. ...The inside of the shack consists of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, including the walls. No one can last more than five minutes in this room. ...According to the legend, if you stood inside this mirror-room alone for too long, supposedly the devil would show up and steal your soul." The Strange Man does show up in the mirror eventually, and it's kind of curious that the paintings that change depending on your Honour act as metaphorical mirrors. This was also cut, but in the files, Arthur's drawing of the interior of Bayall Edge is unusually sloppy, like his faculties were impaired or something.

"Awful, fascinating and seductive". John writes this about Bayall Edge after the portrait is finished, and I think that's as good a description of something like the / a devil as any, but "seductive" is a big red flag for me, because it's such an odd choice of word and, from a Christian perspective, it's so loaded with connotations of evil and sin and temptation.

I Know You. Some have pointed out that I Know You in RDR1 resembles the Temptation of Christ, as it also takes place in three separate locations in the desert, and John is given moral tests in which he must choose between higher virtue or worldly vice. John is also, in a weird way, a kind of Christ-like figure in that he ultimately sacrifices his life for others. I do think the "temptation" in these encounters is very surreptitious but very much there ("Or rob her yourself" -- excuse me??), but they may also be operating on a Biblical definition of the word, i.e. a test or trial with the free choice of committing sin.

RDR1 dialogue. I don't want to get *too* much into this because I feel like we're all just getting punked in RDR1, but I think the Strange Man's dialogue broadly fits with something like a "devil" interpretation, or at least doesn't contradict it.

I'm thinking particularly of lines like "Damn you!" / "Yes, many have" (which would work metaphorically but also literally, given that the devil was thrown from heaven by God and his angels), and "I hope my boy turns out just like you" (of all the leading theories, I think Satan is the only figure who's popularly conceptualised as having a son, or prophesied to have a son -- God obviously had a son, but that ship kinda sailed).

I think the "accountant" line refers to Honour (which even uses an invisible numerical system), and how John's fate depends on the number of both good and bad acts he's committed throughout his life, and how these weigh against each other. If the Strange Man likes to collect souls, then he would have a vested interest in auditing you and seeing if your accounts are in the black or the red, as it were (and providing you with opportunities to push yourself further into the latter...), because if you're bankrupt, you're his.

Blind Man Cassidy. Interestingly, Cassidy seems to distinguish between "Death" and the Strange Man, implying that he's something else beyond his understanding: in one of Arthur's fortunes, after his TB diagnosis, he says "the man with no nose [Death] is coming for you," but in one of John's fortunes, he says "Two strangers seek thee: one from this world, perhaps one from another. One brings hatred; I'm not so sure what the other brings."

Arthur's cut dialogue. In the files, there's audio of Arthur having the exact same conversation with Herbert Moon as John in the epilogue, asking about the Strange Man picture because he "just seemed familiar". I think it's interesting that, like John, Arthur also would have apparently recognised the Strange Man despite (presumably) never seeing him before. Given how strong a theme morality is in Red Dead -- and how much both John and Arthur struggle with it -- my theory is that they find the Strange Man vaguely familiar because they're both familiar with the evil within themselves, or the potential for evil; and likewise, the Strange Man "knows" John because he embodies evil in some sense, so is aware of John's worst sins (like his involvement at Blackwater), or possibly even all of his sins (which would be, like, a lot).

Honourable mention: There's such a greater emphasis on conspiracies, myths, etc. in RDR2 that I half-wonder if the Strange Man's RDR2 incarnation was partly inspired by Hat Man (~excuse the link~ but often it's hard to find good sources for the kind of weird shit R* includes in their games).

ANYWAY, this got a little long but I hope someone found all this at least passably interesting. Thanks again for letting me ramble about the video game man, anon!

#The Strange Man #inbox #Me @ me: God jsut shut the fcuk-

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thevampirearcher-md · 3 years

Text

something med school didn't cover - accurate (#3) 🩺

they're getting to know each other, my two dears

also on ao3

Evenings bring a certain kind of peace to a paediatrics ward - there’s the muffled steady beeps from the ICU beyond the glass door at the end of the hallway, there’s the faint sounds of televisions and children’s music drifting out from beneath room doors, there’s the occasional squeal of joy or screech of hunger of the younger inpatients, but wards are peaceful in the evenings. Activity winds down to the point where Denali feels relaxed enough to go back to the locker-room for the book she’s brought along.

Twenty-four hour shifts are ideal occasions to read - or do crosswords, if you’re her mother. But to Denali, reading is the perfect activity to keep her brain awake and occupied enough not to think about the late hour or the silence she’s been plunged into.

“Hey!”

The voice startles her - a sound that doesn’t belong in the evening atmosphere of the ward. It’s coming from the doctor’s lounge, the room whose lights she had just turned off. She’d thought it deserted - the attending on call had locked himself in the office and the resident on call was downstairs in the emergency room, ready to tackle all the cases that would be walking in. She thought she’d be economical.

She pushes the door to reveal a sight she didn’t think she’d be faced with: doctor McCorkell sitting at one of the desks, with her hair down around her shoulders and a pained expression on her face. Spread out in front of her are two charts - one brand new and blank and another one that has carefully been stuck together with clear tape.

“Why are you still here?” Denali’s brow furrows.

Rosé only huffs, gesturing to the messy pile in front of her. Seeming defeated, she stands, walking over to the coffee machine. Its sound startles the calm atmosphere of the evening. It takes a long while for it to warm up, whirring and sputtering in the silence. Rosé’s pink mug is already filling up by the time Denali realises the silence almost borders on weird.

“I don't get it,” she’s still rooted to her spot in the doorframe, so she takes a step into the room, leaving her book on the couch near the door.

“Professor Visage has torn another one of my charts,” Rosé shrugs, sipping her coffee.

“Another one?” Denali’s eyebrow rises.

“At least, this one she tore in the hallway, I’ll call that improvement,” Rosé jokes.

“Over what?”

Denali knows about Professor Visage’s habit of tearing apart charts that don't follow her guidelines, but she didn’t think it could happen to doctor McCorkell of all people. It is an unspoken agreement among the attentings on the ward that she is the best intern of her generation.

“Tearing them in the room next to the mothers?” she throws herself back into the chair and scans the papers again.

“When did this happen?”

Rosé breathes out a startled chuckle. “Today?” It’s her turn to quirk her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. “I really don't want to know what would happen if I took my time to redo them.”

“Wait…” Denali breathes out as the cogs in her mind turn. “This is not the first time that this happens?”

“Nurse Foxx,” Rosé begins, only to be interrupted.

��Denali,” she corrects automatically, even though none of the other interns will get to call her that for a good long while. Not even some of the upper-level residents call her by her name.

“Fine, Denali, don’t tell me you haven't noticed it,” Rosé laughs. The way she says her name is careful, slow, steady and rounding out every syllable. A complete contrast from the rest of her sentence, playful and teasing.

Denali’s pause is more than answer enough for Rosé, who smiles. “I would have hoped you were paying more attention to me, but I guess now I know,” she sips her coffee again, focusing back on the work she still has to do.

“It’s just that I never would have expected it to happen to you, Doctor McCorkell,” her lips move of their own accord, drawing the ginger’s attention back to her, and her legs move of their own accord, bringing her closer to the desk she has claimed.

The ginger’s eyes narrow. “Rosé, please. I stop being doctor McCorkell,” her face scrunches up at the name, “as soon as I clock out.”

“We’re still working,” Denali reminds her.

“No,” the ginger shakes her head, momentarily drawing Denali’s attention to her luscious curls, which she has let flow free of her usual bun. “You’re still working, I’ve been off for…” she turns her wrist to check her watch. “the last four hours,” she smirks.

Denali nods. “Fine, I didn’t expect it to happen to you, Rosé.”

“Oh, but it does… almost every week,” another shrug, as if it doesn't even bother her anymore. “Usually, though I would have figured it out by now and crawled back home to my bed and my Nelson,” she explains and Denali’s brain starts to piece it together - Rosé out of scrubs and in pyjamas, Rosé in a bed, Rosé reading a paediatrics book before bed.

“Need any help?”

Professor Visage is a particular person - someone who wants things done a certain way, who corrects people and gives out advice to improve everyone. She holds the people who work with her - attendings, residents, even nurses - to the same high standard that she holds herself. They’re working in one of the best paediatrics wards in the country because of it.

But it does sometimes scare away the interns.

“Would you?” Rosé’s eyes light up. “I don’t think I can stand to look at it much more,” she deflates. “And I’ve assured Doctor Luzon that I wouldn’t need her help, so now I’m embarrassed to call her,” she runs her hand through her hair, straightening it out to its full lenght and Denali refuses to be mesmerised by its colour.

Denali laughs, stretching over the table. She notices, sneakily out of the corner of her eye, how Rosé’s body slightly tenses up at the sudden closeness, but she smirks - a tiny pull of her lips, too small for the doctor to see it. Her hands grip the torn chart as she finds a spot to perch on the corner of the desk.

“Got a red pen?”

Rosé’s eyes narrow. “Aren’t you funny?” Her lips clamp shut as she bites back the ‘baby’ that she tends to sneak into almost every sentence that she says. Still, it’s too familiar a term. It would bring Nurse Foxx uncomfortably close.

“This,” she says, her finger pointing to a place on the second page that Rosé recognises to be the family history. “She really hates this wording,” she explains. “Says it leaves too much up for interpretation.”

Rosé huffs. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know how else I’m supposed to say that,” her brows furrow in focus, revealing a little crease between them.

“In the standard wording?”

“My mentor back home hated that,” she murmured, “but I guess, that’s it, Rosie, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she grabs for the new chart and her trusty pen and starts scribbling fervently.

“You went to med school in Kansas?” It’s Denali’s turn to furrow her brows. She had figured that Rosé hadn’t graduated from NYU, the med school that sent its student doctors over to be taught in their hospital, but she’d never let her curiosity wander further.

“U of T in Austin, actually. Yee haw!” she gestures vaguely with the hand that’s not writing, mimicking the tipping of a hat. Denali giggles.

“Why come to New York then?” she asks, before she can think any better of why she needs to know.

“Here,” Rosé pushes the newly written chart towards her. “That sound better?” Denali nods and she starts writing again. “Besides the illustrious reputation of Professor Visage and her ward?”

Denali rolls her eyes.

“My sister got divorced last year and, it turns out, that being alone with three kids is a lot,” she explains, her attention still split between their conversation and the chart. “I came to provide support,” she shrugs.

“That’s very nice of you,” Denali musses.

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my two favourite sisters,” she winks, finishing up the chart with her flourish of a signature. “That look good to you?”

“How many do you have?”

“Sisters? Just the two, but they’re both my favourite people on earth… And they both live here now,” she smiles. There’s an obvious fondness in her eyes that Denali knows far too well. She adores her siblings, too, even if they all live in different corners of the United States.

She mirrors her smile before her eyes scan over the paper in front of her. “Perfect.”

Rosé’s shoulders slump forward. “Great, I’m feckin’ beat,” she says on a low breath. Nobody ever believed that Rosé “I-curse-every-other-word” McCorkell had gone into paediatrics, where swear words were not even supposed to exist.

Denali’s expression turns slightly pained. She still has half a shift left.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Denali’s attention snaps back to Rosé, standing next to the coffee machine, whose whirring she hadn’t even noticed. “Milk and two sugars,” she answers automatically.

“One of these days, I’ll get you some actual good coffee,” Rosé says, busying herself with mixing in Denali’s two sugar packets. “But until then,” she hands the steaming paper cup over the desk, “thank you, Denali,” she winks. “Have a good night.”

#rosenali #rosenali ff #hospital au #omgheyrose #denali foxx

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frasier-crane-style · 3 years

Text

Watching Snyder League

-Diana literally vaporizes a guy armed with nothing but an assault rifle.

-Also, these have gotta be like the dumbest terrorists. Their plan:

A. Send multiple armed gunmen to take hostages.

B. Stall for time

C. Set off a suitcase bomb on a one minute countdown (why not just set it off immediately? It's In The Script)

You have a suitcase bomb--just park a car somewhere, set the timer, leave it in the trunk, and walk away. You can kill as many people as you want without losing any of your own guys.

-Superman's scream sends out five separate shockwaves. Which makes me think the guy's milking it, personally.

- I'm amused that both SOP for the Amazons is having, like, fifty people standing around guarding the Mother Box. AND that they don't ramp up security after it wakes up.

- And there's this system of burying the Mother Box. Which 1. seems like the only way to get there in the first place is to teleport in. What good is this system against a teleporter?

2. It takes six guards to suicide themselves by knocking down pillars, which seems like--in five thousand years, you couldn't come up with something where you just pull a level from twenty feet away?

This is the problem with the Amazons. They're all women, so none of them go into STEM fields.

- It's also real weird that this Bruce Wayne doesn't even try to hide that he's Batman. He just walks right up to Aquaman and goes "hey, Bruce Wayne, I'm also Batman." And remember, he's getting the Justice League together entirely based on a hunch. At least in Josstice League, there were Parademons all up in Gotham.

- And should I even bother to ask why Darkseid's people can't just bring three new Mother Boxes to Earth? Are those the only three? If so, you'd think they'd try to get them back sooner. Like, A LOT sooner.

- Okay, this was supposed to come out one year before Infinity War, but still, it was pretty obvious what Marvel was doing with Thanos and the Infinity Gauntlet. They had to know they were inviting comparisons.

-I love the implication, tho, that Darkseid just lost track of the Mother Boxes and just... no one realized they were back on Earth. And they have Parademons that can specifically sniff out the Mother Boxes.

-And if Superman dying was such a momentous occasion that it woke up a Mother Box, why not the Old Gods dying? Why not Ares dying? Wouldn't that have left Earth just as undefended?

-I have no idea why any of this is happening a couple years after Superman debuted and then died and not in, like, 1446.

-Are the Mother Boxes like finicky computers? Do you need to turn them off and on again? When Superman showed up, did they shut down for real, and then he died, so they came back on for real? Is it like a Windows 95 thing, where you can't JUST turn the computer off, you have to go to the start menu and press Shutdown and then wait for it to close up shop?

-It’s so weird that this is supposed to be a Dark, Mature Adaptation For Adults! And it doesn’t have the same basic logic you’d get from an episode of Power Rangers.

-So. Much. Daddy issues.

-Please stop letting Ezra Miller improv.

-They cast like the gayest man in America to play the one guy with a love interest.

-Diana: "I lost someone I loved once." Well, twice, but who's counting?

-All those reshoots and they couldn't get Amber Heard to knock off the British accent?

-Why is Desaad, of all people, Darkseid’s dragon? Is it just because they were rifling through all the Fourth World saga to find the few guys with scary names instead of Granny Goodness or Virman Vundabar?

- And they really play up Darkseid appearing to Steppenwolf, but we've not only already seen him in the big flashback, we saw him get his ass kicked by Zeus of all people.

- And the whole thing where Steppenwolf is part of Darkseid's 'family' really isn't helping the Thanos-Nebula-Gamora comparison.

-It's weird to introduce Darkseid as the guy who was already beaten once. Wouldn't it make more sense that Steppenwulf was the guy who lost, and that allowed Darkseid to take over, and now he's trying to redeem himself for his defeat? Or that Darkseid was never defeated at all, but someone stole the Anti-Life Equation from him and hid it on Earth? Something. Instead, it’s literally just randomly burnt into the crust of the Earth, Darkseid discovers it, then forgets all about it for reasons the movie doesn’t get into despite being four damn hours long.

-It’s only the central plot, whatever, forget about it.

- Pretty sure Kal eye-lasered a couple Army guys to death after he was resurrected, not that he ever gives a shit.

-Third big reveal of Darkseid. Come on, you've shown him three times now. We've heard him talk.

-And this does the same thing as Josstice League with Superman being more powerful than the rest of the JLA put together. Here, he even no-sells Steppenwolf's axe. He just lets it hit him and it doesn’t do shit. So Doomsday could kill him, but Steppenwolf can't even scratch him. And yet Wonder Woman seems pretty evenly matched with both, if not outclassed by Steppenwolf.

-Barry Allen spends the whole climax running in a circle. And he fails at it! Dude's really retarded when he doesn't have Team STAR Labs cheering him on.

-He also casually travels back in time to undo his side getting a Game Over, which makes you wonder how any conflict in this universe can ever have any stakes. Say what you will about Endgame, but at least they explain why time travel can’t solve every problem they ever have.

-Hell, the Mother Boxes can bring people back to life. The example used is literally “it can turn smoke back into a house.” Why not bring Joe Morton back to life? He did a good job in T2, c’mon.

-Speaking of, according to TV Tropes, Ray Fisher got to come up with his own backstory for Cyborg (”I don't praise Chris Terrio and Zack Snyder for simply putting me in Justice League. I praise them for EMPOWERING me (a black man with no film credits to his name) with a seat at the creative table and input on the framing of the Stones before there was even a script!”), which makes it kinda hilarious that this movie’s characterization of Cyborg is that he’s a genius sports hero who also loves helping out the underprivileged.

-AND his big conflict with his dad is that Silas Stone was never there for him, as literally represented by there being an empty seat next to his mom at Vic’s big sportsball game. So apparently the black experience is indistinguishable from Austin Powers In Goldmember. Who knew?

-What else? It's weird that the narrative tries to put some importance in Martha Kent, but then in her big scene with Lois, she's really Martian Manhunter (not kidding) and when Superman is resurrected, he hears encouraging words ONLY from Jor-El and Jonathan. All she really contributes to the story is hugging Superman after he comes back.

-Also, Batman spends a lot of time in the climax shooting people with a rifle. They're bug people and it's, like, a Halo rifle, but still. You can tell Snyder's just chomping at the bit to have Batman carry around a Colt Commando.

-They give no shits about secret identities in this, so why do they still bother with putting a shitty distortion effect on Batfleck's voice? He has a pretty good Batman voice outside the suit, but once he puts it on, he starts sounding like he's giving a blowjob to Daft Punk.

-One of the movie’s, like, four cliffhangers is Lex Luthor telling Deathstroke about Batman’s secret identity, because Deathstroke has a private vendetta against Batman and is out to get him. Of all the Bat rogues who are solely motivated by taking out Batman--why choose Deathstroke, the guy that’s just a mercenary for hire, to characterize as simply hating Batman? (They also imply Batman took out Deathstroke’s eye and THAT’S the big feud between him and--guys. C’mon. This was really supposed to be a whole movie of Deathstroke getting revenge for his eye?)

- The movie ends with them making Wayne Manor the JLA headquarters--God, just tell me if secret identities matter or not.

-Did we really need two ‘beyond the impossible’ scenes back to back, one for Cyborg and one for the Flash?

-Oh, it’s not Arkham Asylum, it’s ‘Arkham Home For The Emotionally Troubled.’ Was this supposed to be one of those Arrowverse things where they call it Starling City for a while, only to rebrand it Star City because that’s somehow better than just calling it Star City in the first place?

- "[Snyder] also said that the reason Darkseid lost track of which world the Mother Boxes were left on was because he was gravely injured and their forces sent limping away, and upon returning to Apokolips had to fight a civil war for the throne (possibly the event hinted where Steppenwolf betrayed him), wherein their records were lost." Imagine having a movie four hours long and not explaining the fucking backstory.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 30, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

At 3:29 ET on August 30, 2021—early on the morning of August 31 in Afghanistan—the U.S. military mission in Afghanistan ended. It was the longest war in American history.

Among the last to come home were the 13 Americans killed in an ISIS-K attack last Thursday. They arrived at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware Sunday morning from Germany. President Joe Biden, First Lady Jill Biden, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, Secretary of State Antony Blinken, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, and 8 aides attended the dignified transfer between the plane and a waiting vehicle.

In the last 17 days in Afghanistan, U.S. troops evacuated more than 120,000 people, making up the largest airlift in our history. For comparison, as Jennifer Rubin of the Washington Post pointed out, the U.S. evacuated no Americans from the civil war in Yemen in 2015, and only about 167 from Libya in 2011.

While critics have suggested that America’s withdrawal from Afghanistan will hurt American credibility abroad, President Biden and Secretary of State Antony Blinken have called for combatting terrorism through financial sanctions, bombing, and drone strikes like the one they used to retaliate against ISIS-K for the attack on the Kabul airport that killed more than 160 Afghans and 13 Americans last Friday, and by strengthening democracy at home.

There is plenty of work to do on that last front.

Last week, Peter Wehner, who served in the Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and George W. Bush administrations, pointed out in The Atlantic that the right wing has moved to such extremism that former president Trump, whose behavior seemed so shocking in 2015 and 2016, is now being sidelined by lawmakers and pundits who are even more extreme.

Yesterday, in an event hosted by the Macon County Republican Party, Representative Madison Cawthorn (R-NC) insisted that the January 6 rioters are “political hostages” and said he wanted to “bust them out.” When someone in the audience asked “When are you going to call us to Washington again?” he said, “We are actively working on that one…. We have a few plans in motion that I can’t make public right now.” He called for removing Biden from office under the 25th Amendment and added, “when Kamala Harris inevitably screws up, we will take them down, one at a time.” He concluded by saying: “The Second Amendment was not written so that we can go hunting or we can shoot sporting clays…. The Second Amendment was written so that we can fight against tyranny.”

Increasingly, right-wing agitators are calling for violent overthrow of the government.

Today in Pennsylvania, Steve Lynch, a candidate for Northampton County executive, said: “Forget going into these school boards with freaking data. You go into these school boards to remove them. I’m going in with 20 strong men and I’m gonna give them an option—they can leave or they can be removed.”

At a protest in Santa Monica yesterday before a vote on a mask mandate, a man held a sign with the names and home addresses of each Los Angeles City Council member and said protesters would go to the homes of anyone who voted for the mandate and, if it passed, “Civil War is coming! Get your guns!”

This sort of street-level violence is known for radicalizing individuals as they get swept up in it and then later embrace the larger political arguments behind it. It also forces more reasonable individuals out of government positions as they conclude that their position on a school board, for example, is not worth threats against their families and their lives.

Far from trying to tamp down this violence, right-wing leaders are egging it on. Tonight, on the Fox News Channel, personality Tucker Carlson told his audience that no leader had apologized for “these terrible decisions” in Afghanistan. “This can’t go on,” he said. “When leaders refuse to hold themselves accountable, over time, people revolt…. We need to change course immediately… or else the consequences will be awful.”

The images on the screen behind Carlson were of President Biden, Secretary of State Blinken, Defense Secretary Austin, and Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Milley. Carlson often tries to undermine the current leadership of the military, suggesting that he would welcome its replacement by officers he finds less objectionable.

Republican offense may be an attempt at defense.

Today, Representative Bennie Thompson (D-MS), chair of the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the United States Capitol, announced that the committee has demanded that 35 major communications companies preserve their records from April 1, 2020, to January 31, 2021, for people involved in the January 5 and January 6 rallies in Washington, D.C., or “potentially involved with discussions” about stopping the electoral vote count on January 6 or otherwise “potentially involved with discussions" in planning the January 6 insurrection. According to CNN, the companies affected include cell phone giants Verizon Wireless, AT&T, T-Mobile, US Cellular, and Sprint. Social media companies covered under the request include Apple, Google, Facebook, Signal, Slack, YouTube, Twitch, and Twitter.

CNN reports that members of the committee have requested preservation of the records of representatives Cawthorn, Lauren Boebert (R-CO), Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA), Jim Jordan (R-OH), Andy Biggs (R-AZ), Paul Gosar (R-AZ), Mo Brooks (R-AL), Matt Gaetz (R-FL), Louie Gohmert (R-TX), Jody Hice (R-GA), and Scott Perry (R-PA). They have also asked the companies to preserve the records of former president Trump; those of his children Ivanka Trump, Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump; and those of his daughter-in-law Lara Trump and Don Jr.’s girlfriend Kimberly Guilfoyle, who worked on the campaign.

Those determined to regain control of the country from the Democrats also have to contend with continuing good news from Biden’s policies. A new study from the Center on Poverty and Social Policy at Columbia University shows that the first child tax credit payment kept 3 million children from falling below the poverty line and that the child poverty rate dropped from 15.8% in June to 11.9% in July. Coronavirus relief measures kept another 3 million children from poverty. Families are using the money to buy food and pay off debt.

The administration is also coordinating aid to the states hit hard by Hurricane Ida, which brought up to 15 inches of rain to parts of Louisiana and knocked out the state’s power grid. The administration deployed more than 3,600 employees of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas, who prepared more than 3.4 million meals, millions of liters of water, more than 35,700 tarps, and roughly 200 generators in the region before the storm hit. They have moved ambulances and search and rescue teams into the area and have opened shelters. The Army Corps of Engineers has mobilized personnel to remove debris and to provide temporary roofing and housing.

The administration is shifting its focus from unilateral military might to multilateral alliances to deal with common problems. Tomorrow, Special Presidential Envoy for Climate John Kerry will leave for Asia, where he will meet with leaders from Japan and then China to bolster international cooperation on climate change before the meeting of the 2021 U.N Climate Change Conference in early November.

—-

Notes:

Kyle Griffin @kylegriffin1CENTCOM's Gen. McKenzie: In total, 123,000 civilians were evacuated from Afghanistan over the last 18 days.

869 Retweets3,334 Likes

August 30th 2021

Aaron Fritschner @FritschnerAt Macon County GOP event yesterday, Madison Cawthorn called January 6 rioters “political hostages,” and spoke of trying to “bust them out.” Then- Attendee: “When are you gonna call us to Washington again?" Cawthorn: “We are actively working on that one.”

4,235 Retweets7,587 Likes

August 30th 2021

https://talkingpointsmemo.com/news/cawthorn-calls-jan-6-defendants-political-hostages-muses-about-trying-to-bust-them-out

Scott MacFarlane @MacFarlaneNewsALERT: House Select Jan 6th Committee asks 35 major communications companies (including major cell service providers, Twitter, Parler, etc) to preserve records for "individuals potentially involved with discussions" in planning Jan 6 Sweeping request (more)

1,408 Retweets3,875 Likes

August 30th 2021

/photo/2

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2021/08/30/statement-by-president-joe-biden/

https://www.cnn.com/2021/08/30/politics/fact-check-biden-dover-afghanistan-kabul/index.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/08/28/world/asia/kabul-airport-attack-isis-us-strike.html

https://www.cnn.com/2021/08/30/politics/january-6-phone-records-members-of-congress/index.html

Ron Filipkowski @RonFilipkowskiAt protest in Santa Monica today before the vote on mask-mandate, Jason Lefkowitz has the home addresses of each LA City Council member on his sign. He says they are going to the homes of whoever votes for it, and if it passes, it’s “civil war, get your guns.” From @chadloder

3,407 Retweets5,941 Likes

August 30th 2021

Andrew Lawrence @ndrew_lawrencethe most watched cable news host in america justifies a coming "revolt" unless we "change course immediately"

261 Retweets957 Likes

August 31st 2021

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/01/american-civilians-yemen-left-behind

https://www.npr.org/2021/08/30/1032615984/house-panel-investigating-the-capitol-attack-orders-35-companies-to-preserve-rec

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/08/30/how-evacuation-americans-is-going/

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/08/radicalism-post-trump-gop/619891/

https://www.povertycenter.columbia.edu/news-internal/monthly-poverty-july-2021

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2021/08/30/readout-of-president-bidens-briefing-with-gulf-coast-elected-officials-on-hurricane-ida/

https://www.businessinsider.com/child-tax-credit-expansion-reduce-child-poverty-rate-research-2021-8

https://apnews.com/article/hurricane-ida-louisiana-new-orleans-c43c2c68946ceb6100c2239534c6c290

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#extreme right wing #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #January 6 2021 #January 6 Commission #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson

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olliepig · 3 years

Text

Scott-land Yard

So, as everyone knows, it was our wonderful Scott’s birthday yesterday. In honour of that fact, the amazing @willow-salix and I got together and this was the outcome.

It’s also available on AO3 here.

******

“Smile!” Gordon chirped as he and Scott posed for the camera that had been thrust in their faces. John managed something that looked more like a trapped wind grimace and resisted the urge to hide behind Scott.

“I hate this,” John whined. He'd deny it, but it was definitely a whine.

“You hate everything,” Gordon shot back, pausing and shifting to a new pose after only three steps when another passer-by spotted them and requested a picture.

“I do not, I just hate going anywhere public because it’s always like this,” he lifted a hand to shield his eyes as another flash almost blinded him.

“We’re International Rescue,” Scott reminded him. “It’s part of the territory.”

“Yes, because that’s the only reason they’re popping up like meerkats to invade my personal bubble.”

“What else could it be?” Gordon asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “It’s definitely not got anything to do with the fact that we’re dressed like we just fell out of a Jane Austin novel.”

“I think we look good,” Gordon argued, tugging his jacket back into place and smoothing it down.

“We do, quite dashing,” Scott grinned, preening for another picture.

“I think we look like idiots.”

“This is going to be a fun night,” Gordon sighed as they reached the door of the pub appropriately named ‘The Moody Cow’.

“Happy birthday to me,” Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his protesting brother inside.

Looking around the inside did not instil John with more confidence.

“This has to be at least six health code violations.”

“Just six?” Scott quipped.

“I was talking about the front door.”

“Oh stop complaining so much,” Gordon chided him, taking in the sawdust floor and wobbly looking tables. “I think it’s charming.”

“Exactly,” Scott agreed, making a beeline for the bar and ordering three beers. “If this is what the girls have planned, then who are we to argue?”

“I don’t know what their plans are,” grumbled John, reluctantly following his brothers into the bar, “but based on this, I do know I don’t trust either of them.”

“You might have a point there,” Scott conceded, as he waited for their drinks. “We’ve all seen what happens when we leave those two unsupervised, and according to Cat they’ve been planning this for months.”

“We’re doomed,” John groaned, taking an experimental sip of the beer he’d just been passed. “There’s no hope for us.”

“What even is this?” Gordon asked, making a face as he sipped whatever pigs swill had been glassed up and handed over to them. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s traditional, I believe,” John said, taking another cautious swig of his own, unable to decide if he liked it or not.

“Well I like it,” Scott declared, taking a big gulp of his own drink and looking around for a table.

“What is this?” John asked the barman, who fished a bottle out from under the bar, showing him the label. It turned out to be from an historical brewery that specialised in archeological brewing, with recipes taken from old texts and replicated. John raised an eyebrow briefly in what might possibly, somewhere in the outer reaches of space, be considered as appreciation, not that he’d ever admit that, before handing back the bottle and taking his seat with his brothers.

“What time did the girls say they’d get here?” Gordon asked.

“About now I think,” Scott replied, looking at his watch before fixing his eyes on the door in the hope of seeing someone who wasn’t one of his brothers. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with them, but he had been promised a fun night out with some kind of activity that involved great secrecy and costumes, and he was very keen to find out what it was.

“They’re late,” John sniffed. “I’m not in the least surprised.”

“Since when has Selene been on time for anything?” Gordon laughed. “I’d have thought you’d have stopped complaining about it by now.”

“John? Not taking the opportunity to complain? Never!” Scott jested, giving John a friendly nudge.

John scowled in response. “I am perfectly aware of her way of doing things. I’ve learnt to accept it, but that does not mean I agree with it. Also, I do not complain, I state facts.”

“Can we leave him at home next time?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, please do,” John agreed, sounding far too eager.

“No, it’s my birthday and I want you here,” Scott declared. “Plus I’m not dealing with the girls on my own, this is supposed to be a celebration not torture.”

Before John could open his mouth to reply, their attention was grabbed by a door at the back of the room swinging open, revealing both Selene and Cat dressed as what could only be described as Victorian hookers.

“Oh god,” Scott choked as Cat sashayed towards him, swinging her hips as she went.

“I dread to think what this is about,” John sighed when his own woman reached his side, trying very hard not to lose an eyeball in her cleavage.

“Well hello there, birthday boy,” Cat breathed, sliding herself onto Scott’s lap with a wiggle that made him groan quietly as she slung an arm around his shoulder and placed a small kiss of his cheek.

“This is new,” John observed, skimming a fingertip down the laces of the corset he’d definitely not seen before. “I’d ask what the occasion was but you never need an excuse to go shopping.”

“I feel very left out,” Gordon bitched, his eyes still fixed on the door as if staring at it would reveal his date for the night.

“Is Penny not here yet?” Cat asked, looking up in shock as she finally tore her eyes away from Scott and realised that one member of their party was indeed missing. “I thought she’d have got here ages ago.”

Selene, who had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, now perched herself on John’s lap and lifted an arm to get the attention of the barman.

“You,” she called loudly in a demanding tone. “Da, you, you bring me vodka, big glass.”

“That’s new too,” Gordon laughed, hearing a very strange accent coming out of her previously quite common London mouth.

Selene took the glass with a nod of thanks and downed half its contents in one, slamming it down on the table, before spearing Cat with a warning look. “Nyet, remember what grandmudder say, they pay for grind or get nothing at all.”

“Da, but she also say need to show something to bring them in,” Cat retorted, her face reddening slightly as her awful attempt at a Russian accent grated in her ears.

“Minushka, she say, you show one apple, not whole basket of fruit,” Selene gave a little hip swivel that made John choke on his fancy beer in demonstration then got to her feet, avoiding his attempt to keep her on his lap and his dignity intact. “Like so.”

“And I’ve shown apple,” Cat replied, sliding herself up Scott as she stood, feeling his eyes tracking her every move. “Now he want whole basket.”

“Whole basket is extra,” Selene nodded. “We take to rooms now, da?”

“I can’t even pretend to know what’s going on here,” Scott cut in, clearing his throat and grabbing Cat by the waist, enjoying her shriek as he pulled her back down onto his lap. “But it’s my birthday and I’m very happy with having this ‘basket’ right here, thank you very much.”

He fixed Selene with a stare, daring her to deny him on his special night. Smiling in triumph as she huffed dramatically and looked away, allowing it for now, it was his birthday after all. Risking her wrath further, he placed a quick kiss on Cat's neck before continuing. “Anyway, shouldn’t we wait for Penny before we go anywhere?”

Selene rolled her eyes in Cat’s direction, clearly throwing her under the bus for her best friend being late. “Staff, you cannot get them.”

John’s hand took it upon itself to reach out and tweak the edge of the bustle pad type thing that was giving his woman a backside you could balance a tea tray on, unable to ignore it.

Just as Selene turned to admonish him for touching something he might not be able to afford, the main door to the bar opened and Penny swept in, looking every inch the Lady that she was. Dressed impeccably in what looked to be an original evening gown from the period, her eyes registered her shock at the low cut chemises, corsets and shortened ruffled bustle style skirts that adorned the other two women present.

“Did you not send her the brief?” Selene whispered to Cat, dropping the fake Russian accent she had adopted for a moment.

“Of course I did,” Cat hissed back. “But you know she likes to do things her way. I guess she just decided she knew better.”

“Then I guess that means we have a classy prostitute that’s just joined the ranks, best we got,” Selene whispered back.

“It sure does,” Cat shrugged. “We can make it work.”

“Not like we’ve got a choice,” Selene gripped her corset and hoiked it up, wiggling her boobs back into place then turned back to the boys. “Gentlemen, it is time, we have you now.”

“Is that supposed to be a romantic offer?” John asked, although he didn’t hesitate to offer his hand so she could drag him to his feet.

“In Russia we do not do the romance, we just do the bonk,” she told him, making Scott splutter with laughter. “We have not time for making nice. Time is money, friend.”

Penelope shot her fellow females a look of utter bewilderment with a dash of disdain but gamely moved to join them, running a judgemental eye around the bar and its less than pristine flooring. “I should not have worn great great great great Aunt Mildred’s debutant gown.”

“Yeah, probably not your greatest idea,” Cat laughed, giving her a quick hug in greeting before slipping her hand into Scott’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze as she led the way towards the door at the back of the room.

“What kept you?” Gordon asked, sidling up to Penelope in the hopes of stealing a quick kiss. Much as he loved his brothers partners it sucked to be playing the part of the third wheel. Penelope offered him her cheek, conscious of her perfectly applied lipstick, she might be completely over dressed and apparently out of character and her depth, but she was not about to let that stop her.

“I got held up at the Bureau, they’ve decided that everyone, regardless of experience or seniority, must now have a partner,” she snorted in disgust at the very thought that she might be counted among that number. My new recruit leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Sounds like a bad day,” Gordon winced sympathetically. “But you’re here now, so at least you can kick back, relax and have fun with us.”

Selene threw open the door and started climbing the stairs, stopping them all in a dark, dingy hallway which led off to more doors.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Penelope huffed, catching the lacy edge of her skirt on a nail that stuck out from a door frame.

“Money first, no kiss, no taking home to mudder,” Selene called out, laying down the rules. “Catya! Penya! Ladies to your jobs.”

Cat grabbed Penny by the hand and towed her forwards to the front of their little huddle.

Selene shoved a door open and walked in two steps before stopping and letting out the longest, loudest and most dramatic scream she possessed, the one reserved purely for kilt shots of sexy heroes or cute animals.

“Holy hell!” Scott yelped, having been directly behind her and therefore deafened the most.

“No,” Cat shrieked, throwing herself over the mannequin splayed out on the floor, using all the acting skills she possessed as Selene and Penelope tried to pull her back up again. “Anna!”

“What on earth is going on here?” Gordon asked, completely lost at the turn of events that the evening had taken.

“You not know?” Selene sobbed dramatically, burying her face in John’s neck to hide the fact that she was still dry eyed as she huddled against his side. “You are in Whitechapel and you know not of the murders? Are you not detectives sent to save us?”

“Ah, I see,” Scott declared triumphantly, feeling rather smug that he’d worked it out before anyone else. “It’s some kind of murder mystery thing.”

“I see nothing!” Gordon whined. “Someone explain, please?”

“What you mean ‘murder mystery’?” Cat sniffed as she looked pleadingly up at Scott, finding it very hard to keep a straight face. “This our friend. You help us please? We not want to be next victim.”

“You help, we pay with kind, da?” Selene did some weird kind of boob shimmy that almost popped the twins right out of the corset that was barely holding them in as it was. John resisted the urge to throw his jacket over her head and drag her away right there and then before she lost every last ounce of dignity she possessed. He was right, they could not be trusted to be left alone to plan anything.

“Well, if that’s what’s at stake, then I think we’d better help the ladies, hadn’t we?” Scott asked, trying very hard to tear his eyes away from Cat’s behind as she crouched back down over the body on the floor.

“Let me make sure I understand this,” Penelope started. “You told me that we would be playing some kind of escape room scenarios and that we had to dress the part, at no point did you tell me that I was supposed to act as a braindead lady of ill repute.”

“Women no work for police,” Selene told her. “Women have but one job, to please man.”

“Women cannot work for the police? There to please men? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!” Penelope gasped, utterly horrified at the way her friends were apparently happy to set women's liberation back a few centuries. “Now let me tell you somethin-”

“C’mon Penny,” Gordon bravely interrupted her, gently taking her hand and pulling her away from the main group slightly as the others all exchanged worried glances, wondering how this would play out. “It’s just a bit of fun for Scott’s birthday. Nobody means any harm by it.”

“That may be so,” Penelope sniffed, “but I still wish someone had told me in advance.”

“We did,” Selene reminded her, dropping her fake accent for a moment. “We sent you the package with the historical notes and details, it’s not our fault you didn’t read them.”

“And it’s not my fault I didn’t have time!” Penny shot back, her eyes meeting Selene’s in a challenge that nobody wanted to see the outcome of.

Selene’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Gordon took a step closer in case he needed to dive in between them to act as a human shield, but she seemed to think better of it, obviously caring more about the reason they were there, that being her best friend's birthday.

“Well if you’re really not comfortable then nobody is going to force you to do it, Penny,” Gordon continued, trying desperately to keep the peace and allow the night to go ahead more or less as planned. “Tell you what, if we need to keep the numbers equal, why don’t I take your role and you can do mine?”

“Yes, that would do very nicely, thank you,” Penelope replied, brightening instantly and placing a small kiss of thanks on Gordon’s cheek before moving to stand with Scott and John.

John had been wandering the room, taking in everything there was to see, but now his eyes strayed from the crime scene to catch Selene’s, one eyebrow lifting in question. She shrugged in return, she had no clue what was going on either.

“So how does this work then?” Scott asked, trying to move away from the slight awkwardness that seemed to have sprung up in the room.

“How this work?” Cat repeated, trying to hide the smirk of amusement that Scott was finally bamboozled by something from showing. “You police. You investigate scene, go back to police station. Find who did it.”

“Examining body is usually good place to start,” Selene nodded, slipping back into character. “It has been so long since last victim, we thought him gone.”

“We try to help,” Cat added, gesturing to Selene and Gordon. “Can ask us questions. We might know answers, might not. But you not know if not ask us.”

“Anna, rest her soul,” Selene did a wonky cross over her chest and closed her eyes, bowing her head respectfully. “She was good to her mudder, she had three children. They were life. Now she will not have beets to feed her family, for she has been so slain.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” John whispered to her, unable to help the small smile that formed.

“Oh, you know you want me to bring this accent home tonight,” she whispered back, trying not to lose character too much. “You are clever detective, with big,” she looked him up and down seductively, eyes lingering just a second too long below his belt, “brain. You help and I reward, da?”

“John,” Scott called, managing to gain John's attention before his brother's brain short circuited. “We need a game plan here.”

“I’d try reading that note first,” John suggested lightly, pointing at the slip of paper that was half hidden under the victim’s bloody torso.

“Well, sure, if you want to go for the obvious option,” Scott shrugged as if he’d known the note was there the whole time. John and Gordon were not fooled.

Scott bent down to retrieve the blood splattered letter, noting there were fingerprints on it.

“Did you really think I was gone?” he read aloud. “My victims are many in number and miles apart, but now I am back in my original hunting ground and embarking on a series of murders worse than the last. And this time I’m upping the stakes. You almost caught me the first time but you did not succeed. Now you have no choice, find me or I will come for you next. Signed, Jack.”

“Well, that is rather distressing,” Penelope commented. “Based on that note, along with the location and time period, it sounds like Jack the Ripper has made another appearance.”

“Da,” Selene nodded, sidling closer to John to hang off his arm in what she hoped looked to be a suitably terrified way while still rubbing herself against him like an over friendly cat. “It is not safe for us to be on streets. We are honest working girls-”

“Ahem,” Gordon interrupted, clearing his throat and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I swapped with Penny, remember?”

“Honest working people,” Selene corrected herself. “All we do is the sex.”

“You needn't sound so proud of it,” Penelope sniffed, leaning over the body to examine it. “There appears to be a number of wounds to her body, all of which look to be consistent with a stabbing and slashing motion made with a knife, if my memory serves that is correct for the setting.”

“This is not game,” Selene snapped, her temper flaring just a little. They all had their roles to play and Penelope was not taking it seriously enough. The escape room usually had actors that fulfilled the roles that she, Cat and apparently now, Gordon, were playing, but she and Cat had decided that that would likely mean they had too many detectives and would reduce both the fun and the time they would be in the rooms. They had paid extra to hire the whole of the establishment for two hours and to take on the roles themselves to increase the fun. They had spent days researching, learning their lines and brushing up on the details of the case, now it seemed that, not only had Penny neglected to do her homework, she was reluctant to play along.

“A lady detective, I think that’s a bit of alright, I do,” Gordon leered in an attempt to defuse the situation, sounding like a mix of Parker and a bad Dick Van Dyke, Mary Poppins accent.

Cat sniggered to herself, clearing her throat and assuming her character once again when Scott glanced at her.

“Find anything interesting, detective,” she drawled, swanning over to Scott in an attempt to distract him from his mission.

John rolled his eyes, moving to join Penelope at the scene of the crime, although he had to drag Selene with him as she still clung to his arm. “Pass me that camera, will you?”

Selene handed him an old fashioned camera that looked exactly like a victorian era piece but it had been updated with some kind of polaroid technology so that a picture was printed out of it almost instantly in period accurate sepia.

“Huh, that’s actually quite clever,” John reluctantly admitted as he snapped a few shots and collected the photos that came out, handing them to Scott for him to examine. “Penelope, can you bag up anything that you think could be evidence?”

“I’m a little busy here, John,” Penelope answered, already rummaging in the murdered dummy’s clothes.

Scott picked up the slack and took the leather bag that Cat handed him, taking a bag out of it to pick up anything that John might consider evidence. He picked up a key from the ground beside the victim, while John took a photo of a bloody boot print and then laid a piece of paper from the detectives bag over it to make a copy of it.

Selene took it upon herself to delve into the bag too and emerged triumphant, an old fashioned pair of handcuffs dangling from her fingers. She twirled them for a moment, whistling to get John’s attention, then attached them to her belt.

“For later, you will pay extra,” she informed him, blowing him a kiss.

“Do I get toys like that?” Scott asked Cat. “It is my birthday, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Cat answered with a wink. “You heard the lady, toys are extra, so you better have brought your big wallet with you.”

“Want to come find out?”

Cat looked him up and down appreciatively. “Is that a grapple gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Can you smell something?” Gordon asked Selene, adopting a conversational tone.

“Da," she nodded." Uglichsky.”

“Huh?”

“The english, they call it cheese.”

“Yes, exactly right, something is definitely cheesy around here and I think it’s coming from the birthday boy.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “Be nice to me, it’s my birthday!”

“And people think he’s the smooth one,” John sighed, shaking his head. “Can we get back to work now?”

Cat, Gordon and Selene shrugged their agreement.

“OK, you can start helping by telling us a bit more about the woman that was murdered and where you were in the hour leading up to the discovery of her body,” Scott suggested, although he soon wished he hadn’t.

What came next was a jumble of gossip of life on the streets, sordid tales of the woman’s past, each more outlandish than the last, a few too many details of her not so private life, some tips on love making in Russia that John was very sure Selene had made up on the spot and enough random information that all three detectives were more confused after than when they had started. Penelope had declared that they had all the information they needed and that they could relax until they were called for.

“Our work here is done,” Cat said, smiling proudly.

“Yeah, but look at them now, being all serious and shit,” Selene replied as she moved to join them, leaving the detectives to do their work.

“I wonder how long it’ll last,” Gordon grinned, lounging against a nearby wall.

“Longer than if you were with them,” Selene sniggered, nudging him gently when he feigned outrage.

Once Scott, John and Penelope had agreed that they had gathered as much evidence as they could from the crime scene, the girls, with Gordon trailing along between them, led the way to the room that housed the police station.

In the room there was a desk, a few chairs and some evidence boxes, along with piles of paperwork and notes. The walls were covered in photographs of the original Jack the Ripper crime scenes, case notes, maps and newspaper articles. There were also autopsy reports, witness statements and artistic renderings of potential suspects.

“Woah, this is actually pretty cool,” Gordon whistled, looking around the room.

“It does seem quite thorough,” John admitted, his eyes taking everything the room had to offer.

“I say we start with the first victim, work our way across the wall and then tackle the desk,” Scott decided, “that way if there is any hidden evidence on the desk we’re more likely to notice it.”

“Agreed,” John said, already calculating ways to catalogue the information they would discover.

“I’d rather start at the desk,” Penny cut in. “One often finds that the first place to look would be the last place someone sat, and they always leave things on desks.”

“Then, by all means,” Scott gave in graciously. “You know best, investigating is your job after all.”

“Scott and I can do the walls while you check the desk and then we can swap if that works for you?” John suggested. “That way we won’t be getting in each other's way.”

“That will do quite nicely,” Penelope smiled, moving to start rummaging through the desk.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence,” Gordon called cheekily to her, “you’re all supposed to be working together to solve this, not going for solo glory.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you, Gordon,” Penelope huffed, firmly tucking an errant hair behind her ear that had dared escape the meticulously crafted hairstyle that was a perfect replica of a late 18th century style.

“I was just kidding,” Gordon assured her, earning a little smile in return.

Huddled together in a corner with Gordon, Selene and Cat watched as the detectives got to work and congratulated themselves on picking such a unique and fun activity. It was always a bit of a mission to find something to do on any of the boys birthdays. The kind of things that were considered to be once in a lifetime dream opportunities for everyday folk were just a standard Wednesday to their Tracys, so they often had to think outside of the box. Virgil was the next in line and they were already brainstorming, if they left it to any of the brothers they would never leave the island. No, it took their input to get anything done.

“I think we did good,” Cat whispered to Selene as they waited to be called upon as witnesses.

“We did,” Selene agreed. She glanced at Gordon as he bounced about between Scott and John, getting in the way. She couldn't help but smile at his antics, obviously they had expected the boys to be doing the actual detective work and for Penelope to be with them, but they could adapt.

“Has Penny said anything to you?” Selene had to ask, watching the serious way that Penelope was studying a letter she had found in a desk drawer. Their purpose was to both help by answering questions but also to hinder the detectives if they were motoring through the rooms too quickly. The whole experience was supposed to last for at least two hours, giving them time to work up an appetite before they ‘escaped’ and made their way down to the restaurant at the back of the building where they would have a slightly more upmarket atmosphere to eat and drink in.

“Not a thing,” Cat shrugged. “But knowing her as I do, I’m going to assume she had a bad few days at work and is a bit ratty because of it.”

“I guess so,” Selene sighed. “Bit of a shame though, this is Scott’s night and I’ll be pretty pissed off if it ends up being soured because someone is in a foul mood.”

“As would I,” Cat agreed, watching her man as he chatted quietly with John, discussing something they had found.

“They look like they are doing far too well at this,” Selene murmured, nodding at their boys. “I think we need to intervene.”

“You read my mind,” Cat grinned, rearranging her top to show maximum boobs.

“The things we do so they have a good time,” Selene sighed dramatically as she patted her bustled behind. “You know, this thing is kinda growing on me.”

Cat sniggered as they slunk their way over to start annoying to detectives. “Come on, Gordon, do your job.”

“On it,” he saluted, grinning wide.

For the next ten minutes they worked their hardest to distract the detectives with rude tavern songs, a slightly uncoordinated version of the can-can, seductive whispering in their ears and promises of demonstrating the tricks they had learnt on the streets of London.

Hands had to be stopped from sneakily wandering, pieces of evidence had mysteriously vanished only to be found hidden in slightly suggestive places upon their bodies and John had forgotten what he’d been thinking entirely when he’d found himself the recipient of a spontaneous motorboating as he got up close and personal with his girl's chest. Even Penelope had given up on her grumpy mood enough to be jollied into giggling along a few times, that was until the moment that Gordon’s hand came into contact with her behind in a gentle smack.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

"Enticing you into a dalliance, my lady," he grinned, sweeping his barrow boy hat off his head in a mock bow.

"Yes," she hissed, clearly fed up to the back teeth of the antics going in around her. "A lady. Your lady, and one does not smack a lady's bottom in a public place. And you," she pointed a finger of doom at Cat and Selene, "look at you both, look at how you're dressed and acting. It's all well and good playing a role but you're taking it too far, don't you think?"

"How we're dressed?" Selene glanced down at her outfit which, by her standards, was actually pretty normal, although it was in blue and white rather than her usual gothic black. "Should I be insulted?"

Cat just looked shocked, she hadn't thought that their behaviour had been that bad, they had simply been having fun, playing the part. Scott, John and Gordon seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Had she somehow messed up? It was true that she didn't know the family as well as Selene did, since she didn't live with them and was still a relatively part time member, but she had planned this with Selene and was taking her cues from her.

"Oh, come on, Penny, relax a bit, will ya?" Gordon groaned, rolling his eyes.

"I am relaxed," Penelope said, turning back to the wall she was studying.

Scott, who was at the desk studying some papers, caught Gordon's eye, nodding towards Penelope. It was his birthday celebration and he wasn't impressed. Cat and Selene had put a lot of effort into organising it for him and he didn't want their time to be wasted. Cat looked like she was about to cry and Selene looked like she was about to curse something or someone. Much as Scott knew that Gordon hadn't meant anything by his actions or comments, he had simply been joining in after all, it was obvious that something was bothering Penelope and it needed fixing.

Gordon nodded his understanding and moved towards his girl. His arm slipped around her waist and, while she stiffened at first, after a few whispered words she relaxed, allowing herself to lean closer to him for a moment before she shook him off.

"Stop trying to distract me, I'm trying to concentrate."

"It's my job to distract you," Gordon teased gently but it did little good.

"And I'm trying to do my job, so kindly let me do it."

"Dang, and I thought Tracys were competitive," Selene whistled, trying to defuse the tension. "OK, let's do this, boys against girls, screw the rules, you in?"

"I'm so in," Cat agreed, "who says prostitutes can't work with the law?"

The object of the escape room was to find enough evidence to point to a particular suspect that had been chosen by the escape room organisers. Almost like a game of Cluedo where there was a different murderer, room and weapon every time, the escape room team cycled through five of the most well known suspects of the original case. There was no telling which they had picked this time so the girls did their best to help Penelope as she worked to put together all the clues she had found.

Selene had spent a fair amount of time with Penelope, enough to feel like she knew the other woman quite well, but she realised now that she only knew one facet of her personality. Their interactions had mostly been on a casual, socialising level because, although Selene did work with the GDF on a freelance basis now and then working anywhere she was needed, she mostly found herself teamed with Kayo or Rigby. She told herself that this was because she was just that damned handy that they only put her with the best, she refused to acknowledge the fact that they were likely the only ones no longer scared of her. That wasn't it at all.

So, somehow she had managed to spend more than three years in the family and never had the opportunity to watch the Lady at work, now she was kinda glad that she hadn't.

Penelope was very much like John in the fact that when she had a goal in sight she was very bloody minded. She knew what she needed to do and she refused to let anything stop her. Selene tried three times to offer suggestions or to point out what looked like it might be an interesting piece of evidence only to be told, politely but firmly, that she was very wrong. Never one to waste her time flogging a dead horse she passed the baton over to Cat, tapped out with a fist bump and switched allegiance without a shred or remorse or a backwards glance.

"I'm out! You're on your own," she declared, defecting to the enemy camp, announcing her presence with a sneaky grope of John's behind where he was bent over the desk, Scott still in possession of the only chair.

Cat watched her friend go, unable to blame her. She had had the dubious honour of calling Penelope her best friend for more than half her life but that didn't make her any easier to deal with when she was in one of her moods.

A focused Penny was often a snappy Penny, the severity of which Cat had forgotten after years of not working with her on anything like a professional basis. Penelope, much like anyone that came from a privileged background, was used to getting her own way and having things done to their exact specifications. When you worked alone as much as she did, you often forgot that there were other ways of doing things other than your own.

Cat was well aware that just having Parker for back up had done very little to soften Penelope's edges, in fact it seemed to have sharpened them. Oh, she couldn't deny that her friend was excellent at her job, top of her field and still climbing, but that left her little time to waste on those that would potentially hold her back. She was of the mind that if there was someone considered better than you, that simply meant you had more to prove and harder work to do. You didn't stop until you had no one to surpass.

“What’ve we still got to do then?” Cat asked, knowing better than to just dive in and inadvertently mess with whatever strategy Penny was using to solve the mystery.

“You can look at those if you want,” Penny replied curtly, nodding towards a series of pictures beside her, her focus still on the paper in her hand.

Cat sighed as she picked up the pictures, managing not to recoil at the murder scenes depicted on them, as she desperately tried to work out the best way to talk to her friend. It wasn’t unknown for Penny to be prickly and difficult when things didn’t go her way, and it was something that they had fallen out about in the past, but she hadn’t expected her to behave like this at a birthday event for her boyfriend's brother.

“Penny, what's going on with you tonight?” Cat asked, deciding that the direct approach was likeliest to be successful. If experience had taught her anything, it was that Penny was far too good at evading questions and hints if they didn’t suit her.

“Nothing,” Penny dismissed, her eyes still firmly on the job at hand.

“Don’t start that bullshit with me,” Cat replied quietly but firmly, enjoying the look of shock in Penny’s eyes as they flew up to meet hers, clearly not expecting to be challenged. “I know you far too well for your own good and this isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?” Penny deflected, trying to buy herself time, not liking the anger in Cat’s eyes but doubling down anyway. “I’m here aren’t I? I dressed up just like you asked and I’m even doing your little puzzles.”

“That’s not what I mean and well you know it,” Cat pressed, unimpressed but not surprised by the attempted diversion. “Yeah, you’re here, but you’re acting like you’d rather be literally anywhere else and I’m gonna need you to stop it before it ruins the night for Scott.”

Penny paused for a second, casting a glance around the room to ensure that nobody was in earshot before leaning in to Cat.

“If you must know, I’ve been feeling sick on and off for the last few days, so yes, I probably would rather be anywhere but here if I’m being honest,” she confided, feeling strangely glad to have unburdened herself on her friend.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that,” Cat sympathised, concern for her friend’s health diluting her anger somewhat. “Do you think you’ve caught something?”

“Perhaps,” Penny replied stiffly, sitting herself back upright again, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.

“You look after yourself tonight, OK?” Cat pressed, not wanting to let the opportunity go. “But can you tone down the grumpiness a little? It’s Scott’s birthday night and we’ve put a lot of work into organising this.”

Taking Penny’s curt nod as an acknowledgement of what she had asked, Cat decided that she had done what she could for the time being. Looking around the room before getting back to her assigned task, she was glad to see that Scott at least seemed to be enjoying himself, absorbed in conversation with his brothers as Selene hovered nearby in case she was needed. Throwing a quick nod to her partner in crime in confirmation that she had tried her best, she reluctantly picked up the pictures again and began scanning them for clues.

Selene had little to do but watch the two teams, content to stay out of the way for the most part. Gordon had slotted back in with his brothers as he always did, the boys working together seamlessly to get the job done, focused now on their end goal.

John had all the relevant information correlated and they had moved onto the floor to spread out their findings. Talking together in hushed voices they were soon busily discussing their theories, expanding on or rejecting as needed until they had narrowed down their suspects to just two.

They held one last, whispered conversation, huddling together even closer when Cat wandered a little too close to their workspace and made their decision.

"So, we're in agreement?" Scott asked.

"Yep," Gordon clarified, John nodding with him.

"Even though I'm the IT guy, I'll allow you to input it, since it's your birthday," John grinned, carefully folding the piece of paper in which they had scribbled their conclusion and passing it to Scott.

"How generous of you," Scott quipped. Taking the paper he crossed over to the old fashioned typewriter that had been set up on the desk.

"What are you doing?" Cat asked suspiciously, "you can't be done already."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I am," Scott replied with a cheeky grin as he started typing out their answer. The typewriter had been modernised so that anything typed on it would be automatically transmitted to the central computer that controlled the escape room, the one that would either release them, or condemn them to try again.

"You don't normally say that so proudly," Cat shot back, making Gordon howl with laughter.

Scott ignored her to continue typing. He finished the last word, hit return and waited.

Somewhere in the hall a buzzer sounded, along with the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking.

“Is that it? Did we do it?” Gordon asked, almost bouncing with excitement.

John stuck his head out into the hallway, ducking back in a second later.

“Gentlemen, we are victorious,” he announced in as serious a tone as he could muster.

“They won?” Penelope glanced at Cat, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Cat shrugged in return. She didn’t really care who won as long as Scott had a good time. "They beat us?"

“Yes!” Scott cheered, high fiving Gordon. “Team Tracy for the win! What’s our prize?”

“I don’t know about you, but I quite like the look of our helpers,” John grinned, sliding an arm around Selene’s waist to pull her in against his side. “Doesn’t the hero always get the girl?”

“Only if he have coin,” Selene shot back, yelping when his hand bounced off her padded backside. “But in this case, I shall make exception. We call it taste test, da?”

“Now I know how Julia Roberts felt in Pretty Woman,” Gordon grinned cheekily. “Here I am, turning cheap tricks on the street and I’ve nabbed myself a real Lady. Personally, I think we all lucked out.”

“Is that so?” Penelope drawled, but she allowed a small smile to flirt with her lips, one that got larger when Gordon followed his announcement up with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “You are impossible.”

“So they all say,” Gordon agreed, offering her his arm. “My lady?”

“Good, sir,” she acknowledged, slipping her arm through his with an accepting nod of her head.

“I’d certainly be very happy to accept our helpers as a prize,” Scott laughed, pulling Cat towards him and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now, anyone got any idea of what happens next?”

Just as he spoke, a member of the escape room staff poked their head into the room. “Congratulations. You have found the killer. Thanks to you, London is safe again. Now, to whom should I give the hat of master detective?”

“Me,” Scott announced without hesitation, accepting the deerstalker hat and placing it proudly on his head before anyone could argue.

“If you’d like to follow me, dinner will be served downstairs in the restaurant. You must all be very hungry after all your hard work.”

“Oh thank God,” Scott declared, doing his best to ignore the stifled giggles aimed at his headwear coming from the rest of his family. “I’m starving.”

“Is there ever a point at which you’re not hungry?” asked Cat, genuinely interested to know the answer.

“Nope,” Scott answered proudly, yelping as Gordon swiped the hat off his head from behind as they walked.

“Gordon, you look ridiculous,” Penny giggled as he tried to put it on over the hat he’d forgotten he was already wearing. “Give it back to Scott. It’s his birthday after all,” she added, catching Cat’s eyes with a quick smile of acknowledgment as she tried to atone for her earlier outbursts.

“Seems unfair but OK,” Gordon grumbled good naturedly, handing the hat back as they entered the restaurant.

“Finally, somewhere that's not a total health hazard,” John muttered to Selene as they took their seats.

Totally ignoring him, not that he cared, Selene fussed around Scott, making sure that the birthday boy was comfortably seated at the top of the table with everything he could possibly need on hand if he wanted it. The start of the evening hadn’t exactly gone as they’d planned but she’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy what was left of the night.

There was something so rewarding about your first decent drink of the night after you’d suffered the stress of event planning and Selene was more than grateful to be able to slip into her chair between Gordon and John and pick up the vodka apple cocktail that had been delivered to her.

“A toast,” Scott started, holding up his beer.

“Isn’t one of us supposed to do that?” John asked as he grabbed his own beer bottle.

“Birthday rights,” Scott told him smugly. “I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight, thank the girls for planning such a great activity with such pleasant eye candy and for joining in to make it fun.”

“Sure, why not,” Selene agreed, saluting with her glass. “To birthday rights and milking them.”

“Damn straight,” Scott grinned.

“To annoying older brothers on their birthday,” Gordon added.

“To brothers who aren’t safe to be left alone with your witch,” John grumbled goodnaturedly.

“Many happy returns to good friends,” Penelope continued.

Scott looked at Cat, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. “What have you got for me? Anything you wish to bestow upon me for the next year? Any praise that should be coming my way?”

“To my favourite dumbass in the whole world,” Cat grinned, raising her glass to join the rest. “May this year bring you health, happiness and as many enormous steaks as you can eat. Happy birthday, Scott.”

“Now that’s something I can definitely get on board with,” Scott laughed, raising his glass to his lips.

“Are you ready to order?” a waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere. He was dressed in period clothing, as were all the other staff members and a few patrons.

“What do you have here?” Gordon asked. He, like all of the Tracy family, enjoyed nothing more than a good meal and since there had been many years where such a thing was not always readily available, they had learnt to make the most of any time they were somewhere where food was cooked for them by someone who wouldn’t destroy it.

“Your meal tonight will consist of six courses,” the waiter started.

“Six!” Gordon yelped.

“There goes my waistline again, I’d only just found it again after Christmas,” Selene groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I know this is supposed to be a traditional Victorian meal, but who thought this was a good idea?”

“You,” Cat reminded her.

“Shh, woman,” Selene growled but Cat just smirked, unbothered by the threat. She knew her far too well to take her seriously now.

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve had,” Scott grinned. “I’m so hungry I could eat my hat.”

“Even the ear flaps?” Gordon asked. Scott nodded seriously.

The waiter coughed politely.

“So sorry,” Penelope apologised, “do continue.”

“Your first course is a choice of pheasant or cream of asparagus soup, served with fresh bread. This will be followed with a lettuce salad with accompanying cheese fingers.”

A few eyebrows rose at this.

“Next you have your choice of fish course, consisting of either baked salmon with sauce hollandaise, oysters rockefeller or stewed eels.”

“Eels?” Selene made a face of pure disgust which was echoed by Cat and John.

“For your entree meats you have a choice of hunters style stuffed venison, roasted chicken, pan fried duck, lamb medallions or a sirloin of beef. You can pick any combination.”

“Any combination?” Scott was practically drooling.

The waiter nodded, clearly having seen the disbelieving faces many times before.

“All are accompanied by a choice of wild mushroom risotto, boiled new potatoes, potato croquettes or boiled rice, along with green peas and seasonal vegetables.”

“I’m in heaven,” Gordon groaned.

“For your dessert course we have a choice of a delicious lemon sorbet, chocolate mousse, sugar biscuits or a selection of petits fours. This will be followed by a cheese course and finally coffees,” the waiter finished with a flourish, clearly enjoying playing the part. He stood with his order pad, awaiting their decision.

Blank faces stared back.

“Clearly this is new to you all,” Penelope sighed. “You must excuse them. I’d like the asparagus soup and then the baked salmon, followed by the venison with boiled potatoes and the sorbet to finish. Thank you.”

“How the heck did you do that?” Gordon goggled. “I’m pretty sure even John didn't catch all that.” He looked at his brother for confirmation.

“I made it up to the meat selection,” John confirmed.

“I’ve forgotten everything before chocolate mousse,” Selene admitted.

“I got stuck on the eels,” Cat joined in.

“I’m still trying to decide which meats to pick,” Scott finished.

“It’s quite alright, sirs, madames,” the waiter assured them, producing a number of printed menu cards from somewhere about his person. “I shall give you a moment to decide while I fetch tonight's choice of wines and refresh your waters.”

“Thank you,” Cat called after him, already scanning the menu.

A lively debate broke out as everyone discussed the options, deciding what they would like and struck up bargains amongst themselves of who would get to try a sample of the others meal. Scott, of course, had pulled out his birthday card again to secure himself a taste of everyone's food.

Decisions finally made it was a better informed group that reeled off their choice of food to the waiter, who’s name they found out was Carl. He left them with four bottles of wine and didn’t even baulk at Scott ordering the sirloin, lamb medallions and the roast chicken. He was getting the biggest tip of the year that night.

-x-

“I can’t walk, I’m too fat, carry me.”

“My love, I adore you, but if you are indeed as fat as you claim I doubt carrying you would be good for my health.”

Selene paused to think about this, wondering just how her man seemed to be able to drink the amount of beer and wine he had and still form a coherent and slightly sarcastic response. It was one of the many things she found quite sexy about him. Hmm, sexy...

“I do like your body to be in peak health,” she mused, letting her eyes wander up and down his body, taking in the tailored coat, waistcoat, neckerchief and shirt combo that was sitting so well on him. His hair had been brushed back and styled in a close approximation of the era's popular side parted look and it suited him to perfection, though she missed that familiar curl she liked to run her fingers through. “I’ve heard that regular exercise is key, for which I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

One eyebrow rose at her assessing stare and blatant ogling of his person. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he assured her, trying to keep his serious tone but only just managing it.

“Good, you do that,” she insisted, wobbling slightly on her heels as she tried to keep to a straight line. She sighed happily when his arm draped around her shoulders, helping to keep her upright. She slipped her arm around his waist, leaning closer. This was good. This was nice.

“Do you think Scott had a good time?” she asked quietly, watching Scott and Cat as they walked a little way ahead of them.

John rolled his eyes, having known this was coming. She always got like this when she had a few drinks in her. She would either be so over confident she thought she was a queen or she started doubting her very existence.

“You know he did,” John assured her. “You always manage to somehow dream up the best ideas for us, something we very much appreciate, and joining forces with Cat made it all the better.”

“Cat’s great,” Selene said, smiling dopily. “I love her, she’s the best.”

“You love everyone when you’re tipsy, I should be grateful that I’m getting any attention at all.”

“Oh hush, you’ll get more attention than you can handle when we get home.”

“I must admit, a night of peace and quiet alone in our little apartment, before we return to the madness of the island tomorrow, is sounding like heaven.”

“Just the peace and quiet?” Selene’s hand slid its way neatly from the small of his back to his right buttcheek.

“Not just that,” he admitted. He glanced at his brothers and their respective partners. “Can we say goodnight now?”

Selene followed his gaze, still feeling the need to check the situation one last time before she abandoned her duty of best friend for the night and concentrated on her man.

Scott and Cat were giggling so loudly she could hear it echoing around the quiet streets, that and the clack, clack, clack, skkerch noise of Cat’s heels as she stumbled now and then. Scott was trying admirably to keep her upright, just as John was with her, but it seemed that all of the ballerina’s balance and poise had abandoned her.

“They seem happy enough,” she murmured, her eyes searching out the other two. Gordon and Penelope were walking close together, though there was a lot less holding up than the other two. Gordon was a little winding in his walking but was holding his own, chatting amicably, clearly on his best and most charming behaviour. Penelope was the vision of a perfectly put together lady, she always was no matter how much she drank. Not that she seemed to have indulged much from what Selene could tell.

“Did you see Penny drinking much tonight?”

John paused, frowning lightly as he thought about it. “No, I don’t believe I did. We went straight up to the rooms when she arrived so she missed out on the first drinks and she said she wasn’t in the mood for those wines and, since she doesn't touch hard liquor and can’t stand the taste of beer, she’d stick to fruit juice.”

“Makes sense,” Selene shrugged, not bothering to think too much about it. “Gordon seems to be back in her good books now so I guess it’s safe to leave them all to their own devices.”

“Good enough for me,” he grinned, stealing a quick kiss before raising his voice to be heard. “Scott, Gordon! We’re heading home, don’t forget to be ready to go at one, any later and we’ll leave without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gordon called back. “And if I ask if we’re nearly there yet one more time you’ll dump me out at 5,000 feet.”

“Too right I will,” John answered, not even trying to deny the threat as being a possibility. “Scott?”

“One, got it,” his brother responded after a well placed elbow to the ribs from Cat. “Although you know you’ll have to wait for me, it is my birthday.”

“One more day, that’s all you have left to use that excuse,” Selene reminded him.

“And I’m gonna milk it for all it’s worth,” he assured her, opening his arms for a hug.

Selene pulled him into her arms, yelping when he grabbed her a little too tightly and tried to lift her into the air, holding her against his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

“John! A little help!” she patted Scott’s back ineffectively, dropping her bag which hit the ground with a suspiciously metal sounding rattling clunk.

“Alright, bro, that’s enough, give her back and go home,” John ordered, rescuing his girl from his brother’s limpet like grasp. “Go fling your own around until she throws up.”

“Good plan!” Scott, who had been on the verge of pouting when his cuddle buddy had been stolen, now grinned.

It was Cat’s turn to shriek as she was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and hoisted up to drape over his shoulder as he took off running.

“Don’t drop her!” Selene called but they were gone.

“And people think I’m the one to watch out for,” Gordon mock sighed, shaking his head.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” John laughed.

“Night, Pen,” Selene said, giving the other woman a hug goodbye and then Gordon.

They waited until the pair had wandered off in the direction of their hotel, Penelope having given Parker his freedom for the night, before Selene allowed John to drag her to the tube station. Everyone was taken care of, the night had come to an end and now she could finally relax.

-x-

“Are you OK there?” Cat giggled as she threw her keys on the table, the amount of wine she had drunk with the meal making the sight of Scott sprawled on her sofa, looking very much like he might pass out any second much more amusing to her than it usually would.

“I’m absolutely fine,” he smiled up at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” she laughed as she teetered dangerously on the edge of the sofa before losing her fight with gravity and slipping onto the floor with a bump. “Just that I’ve never seen anyone eat that amount of meat and remain conscious before.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been out for a meal with Virgil then,” Scott chuckled, undoing his belt and top button to give himself more room. Now that she’d mentioned it, he did feel rather full, not that he’d ever let her know that.

Cat spun herself around where she sat, threading an arm around Scott’s waist and resting her head on his chest, enjoying the peace and quiet her flat afforded them as he absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight then?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably as the bones of her corset started to dig in. How Selene managed to wear stuff like this on a regular basis was beyond her, although she did have to admit that it gave her a good figure which she had caught Scott admiring on more than one occasion over the course of the night, so perhaps she was onto something.

“It was awesome,” Scott declared, sensing Cat’s discomfort and making room on the sofa for her. “You did a great job.”

Cat let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she hauled herself up beside him. “I’m so glad. It’s a bloody nightmare trying to think of anything for you lot.”

“Well, I really appreciate the thought that went into it,” he continued, flashing her a dazzling smile. “It was a great night and I think everyone had fun. Even Penny seemed to get into it by the end.”

“Yeah, she got there eventually,” Cat agreed, relieved that her friend’s behaviour hadn’t soured his enjoyment of the night. “Anyway, now we’re home, there’s something I want to give you.”

“It’s the handcuffs from earlier isn’t it?” he guessed, genuinely unsure as to whether that would be a good thing or not.

“No, I think Selene took them,” she giggled, enjoying the look of horror that passed over Scott’s face before he shook his head to clear unwanted thoughts of what his little brother and best friend may or may not be up to at that moment.

Jumping up from the sofa, Cat grabbed a small box that she’d carefully stowed on the mantelpiece earlier, handing it to him carefully. “Happy Birthday Scott,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly before retaking her place on the sofa beside him.

“Thank you,” Scott beamed as he started to peel off the wrapping paper, taken by surprise by the gift. They had talked about it beforehand and he had assured her that spending the evening together would be more than enough for him to be happy, so this was completely unexpected.

Cat just smiled in reply, taking a sip of her drink as she anxiously waited for him to open it. Buying the man who had literally everything he could ever dream of something for his birthday was a task that she had hated every minute of and a tight knot formed in her stomach in case she had somehow got it wrong.

“It’s amazing,” Scott gushed, finally opening the lid of the box and pulling an antique pocket watch out of its satin bed to examine it better, running an appreciative finger over the ornate filigree on the back. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Cat smiled, relief rushing through her as he went straight back to scrutinising his new toy. “But your present isn’t just the watch though, it’s really what the watch represents.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me there,” Scott admitted, a small frown appearing on his face as he looked up in surprise.

“Time,” Cat explained, her grin becoming wider as she became more confident in her choice. “From today, I’ve arranged for us to both have seven whole days off from our jobs. We’re going back to the island tomorrow but then what we do is absolutely up to you. We can stay there, come back here or do anything else that you might like.”

For once in his life, Scott was speechless, unable to think of any response other than to grab Cat and pull her into a tight hug. “How?” was all he could manage when he finally let her go. ��How on earth did you manage that?”

“John and Selene helped me sort it out,” Cat explained. “He’s going to stay down and let EOS run Five while you’re away so there’s backup if needed.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I don’t remember when I last had that amount of time off in one go.”

“That’s exactly what Selene said when I mentioned the idea to her,” Cat smiled, relaxing back against the cushions now that she knew her idea was a success.

“Do you think we really have to go back tomorrow though?” Scott wheedled, nuzzling into Cat’s neck, trying to hit all the spots that he knew usually made her putty in his hands. “Can we not just stay here for the whole week, order lots of pizza and be really antisocial?”

“Nice try,” she laughed, using all her strength to shove him off. “Selene and I are cooking you a birthday meal for all the family so yeah, you do kinda need to be there for that. But after that we can absolutely just chill out here if that’s what you'd like.”

“Spoilsport,” Scott grumbled goodnaturedly, his smile giving away his true feelings about the prospect of having all of his family around him for a meal not cooked by his grandma.

“Yep,” Cat agreed cheerfully. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing probably,” he shrugged. “Too tired and full at the moment.”

“Thought as much,” she concurred, nestling in and resting her head on his chest.

Silence descended over them as they lay, lost in their own thoughts. Turning his watch over in his free hand, Scott was unable to stop himself from fiddling with the clasp, repeatedly opening and closing the case as a smile crept onto his lips, the evening replaying in his mind.

“Is it time for bed yet?” Cat yawned eventually, the adrenaline from making sure the night ran smoothly finally beginning to wear off.

“Let me check,” Scott grinned, opening the watch case once more and squinting at it. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

“C’mon then,” she decided as she pushed herself off the sofa, somehow finding the energy to help haul Scott upright from where he was almost horizontal on the cushions.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sleepily, draping an arm around her shoulder as they made their way towards the bedroom and some well-earned rest. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

#Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #selene tempest #Catriona George #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction

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marvel-medigeek-fics · 3 years

Text

Most Friday nights have a set routine in the 126. Shower. Eat. Drink. And it's heavy on the third step tonight. TK and Marjan both abstain, for completely different reasons, while everyone else is indulging themselves. One might even say overindulging themselves. Marjan and TK exchange a sly glance over the different types of drunk their colleagues are. Judd, the secret drunk. Paul, the competitive drunk. Mateo, the reckless drunk. And Owen, the almost sloppy drunk. He hadn't done anything permanently embarrassing. Yet. Of course, who knows what kind of trouble those four would get into.

The bar was jumping and everything seemed a little bit hazy. Paul and Mateo were having a spirited discussion over whether Batman or Spiderman was the better superhero. Neither one was winning. Judd was grinning into his phone. Scratch the secret, Judd was definitely the affectionate drunk. Based on his obvious swooning over his wife, that much was obvious. Owen was ordering up another round of tequila, and downing the shot glasses like they were glasses of water. Marjan and TK hadn't moved from their table, mostly just watching other people in the bar. TK was chewing on his straw, and Marjan just twirled her spoon between her fingers. Usually, Friday nights were less of a night of getting absolutely hammered for the 126, but this had been an extraordinary week. No one could blame any of them for forgetting the present for a while. Except TK was an addict, and Marjan was Muslim. Drinking wasn't exactly something on their bucket list.

They were relieved when their phones buzzed and chimed. "Structure fire. In the 400 block of Hubbard Boulevard." TK read aloud. "Is that us?" Marjan looked around at Judd and Paul, Mateo and Owen, and sighed. She raised her eyebrows in the way she did before every call. "For us, maybe. Not the rest of the guys." Owen was being cut off by the bartender. There was definitely a story there, but that would be for another time. Judd was still grinning on the phone with Grace. Mateo and Paul had moved on to another debate on the soup status of cereal.

"Call 'em a cab?" TK asked, clearing his basket, which was empty except for mozzarella stick crumbs and a smear of marinara sauce.

"Yeah." Marjan gritted her teeth to leave them here without a designated driver from their station, but Uber was a thriving business in the world of drunk first responders.

TK and Marjan each shot off a message in their shift group chat to explain their absence, whenever it would happen to be noticed. Marjan hopped into her Jeep and TK into his coupe. They arrived at the station 12 minutes later, a record time for both of them. There was no guarantee they'd even be needed, but it was always better to have too much help than not enough. Especially on a structure fire call, as busy of a neighborhood as Hubbard tended to be. Both engines, the aid car, and the ladder truck were long gone by the time Marjan and TK entered. They probably should have expected as much, so after a few seconds of eye contact and a noncommital shrug from Marjan, the two of them moved outside. Turnouts and gear in hand, they made their way to Hubbard Boulevard. They'd be more help at the scene, than rummaging through the pantry back at the 126.

When Marjan and TK arrived, the top three floors were in flames. The fire stood out starkly against the black and starless sky. Both of them took a second to get a handle on the scene. It wasn't the first time either of them had shown up to calls while off duty, but it still felt slightly wrong to be here without Judd, Paul, Mateo, and Owen. Tommy was around here somewhere, they both knew, which was slightly settling for their nerves. It was an unspoken resolution between them to stick together.

"There's incident command, over there." TK bounded off like a puppy, and Marjan had to run to catch up with him.

"Where do you want us?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation on the incident commander's face, but it was quickly replaced by a grave overtone. "Tria--" His thought was interuppted by an explosion from the blazing building. The smoke, despite its blackness, was illuminated against the sky. The flames jumped between the original apartment complex and the one next to it, causing the flames to lick up in intensity. Marjan and TK glanced uneasily at each other and then immediately back at the incident commander.

"Evacuation!" The incident commander ordered the crowd of firefighters who were crowded around him. "Everyone out!" Marjan and TK waited for the crowd behind them to disperse so they could do their jobs.

The building had 12 floors, and according to the building manager, every apartment on the top three floors was rented by someone. Luckily for them, there only happened to be 8 rooms per floor. "Suites," the building manager had explained. "Top-down," Marjan whispered to herself, before joining TK in climbing the stairs. They moved quickly up the flights of stairs, along with 12 other pairs of firefighters.

"Austin FD! You need to evacuate!!" TK banged on the left side apartments on the top floor, while Marjan had the right side. A mere few doors opened and TK and Marjan rushed to escort the coughing occupants down the stairs. Smoke was quickly filling up the hallways and stairwells. The constant coughing didn't escape either of their ears, but the first 6 apartments occupants made it safely halfway down. TK and Marjan passed them off to the pairs on the 6th floor and made their way back up to the top.

"Austin FD! You need to evacuate!!" The final 2 apartments still hadn't had anyone escape them. No one. It was 11 o'clock when Marjan and TK had left the bar, and it was bound to be at least past midnight now. Marjan and TK banged on the doors, desperately trying to get the last people out. There was a faint cry from behind one of the doors. The door was locked, but in a swift kick the hinges gave way and the door fell against the floor. Marjan and TK stepped through, trying their best to scream loud enough for whoever was home to hear them.

The whine returned, and Marjan and TK picked up their pace to search the place. There was no one in the kitchen, the living room, the small dining room, or the closets. "Austin FD!! Anybody here?" The north bedrooms were empty too, and Marjan had even gone as far as to check underneath the beds. She'd done that as a little kid, and there was no way she'd forgive herself for letting a child get past their search. "There's nothing, Marj!" TK said once they met up in the living room again.

"Austin FD!! Anyone here? Please call out!!" They yelled in unison one last time. They had to leave the obviously empty apartment behind, but not without an inkling of doubt in their minds. The pair didn't hesitate to kick down the door of the last apartment on the 12th floor. The smoke was beginning to occlude their vision and the heat penetrated their turnouts. But there was still one apartment left, and there was no way their comfort level was going above someone else's life.

"Austin FD!!" TK's voice was growing hoarse, so Marjan continued his calls. "Anyone here? Please call out!! Austin FD!!"

"Over here!!! Please, I'm over here!!" The voice was so faint, both TK and Marjan struggled to hear it. It was coming from underneath a table in the middle of the living room. The flames had scorched a massive black stain into the wall and the heat had only gotten worse. It was much worse for the man trapped under an overturned table. TK and Marjan lifted the table up on the count of three, and the man gasped for air. It was hard to see in the hazy, smoke-filled air, but Marjan could clearly see the piece of the glass top sticking out of this man's diaphragm. He shuddered with every breath, and blood had already soaked his sweater.

"I'm Marjan, what's your name?" Marjan knelt to the floor, nodding subtlely at TK, who had read her mind.

"I'm Lucas," his voice had a desperate, gasping quality.

"Are you up to walking?" TK yelled it over the roar of the flames, which were only getting closer. Lucas pulled himself to his feet, every movement causing more blood to spill out of his body onto his clothes. "Is there anyone else here with you?"

"My sister!" Lucas gasped in shock, obviously appalled at himself that he had forgotten.

"What's her name?"

"Amy! She's in her room on the east side, please save her, please!" Marjan shifted Lucas' weight on to TK. Her nod seemed to say, 'I got this, save him,' His nod in return, 'i'll be back for you'

She ran off to the east side of the apartment. Marjan called out for Amy, hoping she'd find her before it was too late. "Amy!!" Marjan moved from room to room. The ceiling began to splinter off, raining down wood and flames. Marjan began to panic slightly when she reached the second bedroom and there was no sign of Amy. "Amy!!!!"

There was no one in any of the bedrooms, no one underneath the beds, or in the bathroom, or in any of the closets, or anywhere. "Amy!!! Amy! Amy!!" The name echoed over the sound of raining flames. "Amy!" Marjan couldn't let herself give up, because Amy had to be here somewhere. Somewhere.

"Amy!!" And then everything was fire and smoke and black.

"Marjan, get up!!" TK's voice was broken by the fire hissing. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up to stand. "We have to go, Amy's not here." His voice pled with her until she moved. Marjan made a sound of pain and looked down. She'd been hit with a board, she knew in that second that was why everything had gone black earlier. How much time had passed? She hoped not long, because oxygen tanks didn't last forever.

TK was as much leaning on Marjan as she was on him. They'd made it down 2 floors when another board from the apartment about fell into their path. Marjan had mustered enough strength to force TK over the board and all of its nails. The telltale sign of their oxygen tanks being at dangerous amounts depleted rang out. Marjan bit down the pain in her leg and looked at TK with a look of anguish. His shoulder was dislocated and hanging limply at his side. Their eyes locked and the simple bond forced a bit of strength into both of them. The ring of their oxygen tanks continued to get louder.

7th floor. The ring had become a bit of a dull boring sound. Marjan shook her head at TK. The sort of mindreading those too had when they worked side by side was mesmerizing. There was no time to dwell on the worst sound in existence.

4th floor. The ring has wormed its way into Marjan's brain and all she wanted was to go down. TK looked about the same. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. It is only 4 more floors. Keep going. Marjan fell to her knees first, with TK about 20 seconds behind her. They crawled, desperate to make it out. Keep going.

TK felt his eyes close. He was desperate to sleep, and it would be so easy to do so. If he was in New York still, heartbroken over Alex maybe he wouldn't have any kind of attachment to making it out. But now, with Carlos, and the 126, he'd never wanted anything more. He hadn't prayed in years, but he prayed for that one wish.

Marjan didn't feel a thing, but her eyes wouldn't close. She stared at TK, who looked so peaceful. A rare occurrence. She was desperate. Marjan, the unattached, didn't want to go. She prayed. For salvation. She didn't want to die, but it would be so easy to lay down and give up the fight to stay.

Marjan's eyes were still open when they were dragged to safety. She was too weak to take her helmet off, so someone did it for her. She sputtered, violently gasping in the air, luckily smoke-free. TK had the same reaction, his cheeks wet with tears. Of pain. Or gratefulness. Marjan's cheeks were wet too, but she didn't realize it.

Tommy had quickly taken over their care, forcing both of them to put on the oxygen. She looked so fierce that neither Marjan nor TK would have challenged her, even if they felt at peak performance. Tommy popped TK's shoulder back into place, air splinted Marjan's fracture and very sternly told them they needed to be checked out at the hospital. Judd had always said, "Tommy's only demanding when she cares." If he was here he'd probably treat them the same way.

Speak of the devil. Judd seemed to have worried off about all of his alcohol consumption, just like Owen.

"Holy hell, what happened to you guys?" Judd said, his eyes vibrating between TK with a stark white sling and Marjan with an air splint.

"Just the usual day in the life of off-duty firefighters." TK snarked back while adjusting the oxygen mask.

Marjan and TK had both been instructed to stay the night because they were at such high risk of developing worse complications than smoke inhalation. They were in rooms right next to each other, and the rest of their crew (plus Carlos), had promised to come to visit them in the morning. TK had walked over because Marjan had a double break in her fibula. She probably would have wheeled herself over to Tk's room, but both Mateo, Paul, the nurses, and her doctor had all but restrained her to the bed to keep her from doing so. Not that Paul and Mateo could have done so from their houses, but they'd been very passionate over facetime.

TK had stayed in Marjan's room even after the staff had left. "I heard that Lucas has dementia. Amy is his sister, who passed away 4 years ago." TK said, looking straight at Marjan.

"She was never there." Marjan finished his sentence for him, but still left out what they were both thinking. There had been someone to save until the person to save became them. Marjan smiled because she'd never forgiven herself if she had left someone inside a burning building to die.

"We got everyone out."

"I know." That was the first thing Marjan had asked when they'd been dragged out of the building. TK quietly raised an eyebrow, because there was something off about Marjan. Usually, she was quippy and smart and fiery. Now she was just not. Maybe she was just tired. He couldn't blame her.

"Remember my fiance?" Marjan said after a slight break of silence. TK opened his eyes to look at her. He nodded, curious to see where this was going.

"He accused me of never being in love with him."

"Were you? Are you?"

"Maybe?" TK raised an eyebrow, beckoning her to elaborate. Marjan cleared her throat, pressing her palms calmly against the white sheets. "He dumped me. Though I think I might be in love with him. I don't know. I've never been in love."

"I was in love with my ex. His name was Alex, and I asked him to marry me. He said no." TK turns his face away, sniffing twice and then clearing his throat. "I can't tell you if you're in love with Salim. Only you can decide that."

Marjan took a shaky breath. This was not her usual realm. She liked to deal with facts. Emotions were messy and complicated, and it was not her forte in the slightest.

"I always thought that I would marry Salim after he finished dental school. I'd have time. We had a plan." She laughed wryly. "None of that now. He said he loved someone else. Madison. So I went to his hotel room and I told him I loved him."

"Oh?"

"And he kissed me."

"Oh!"

"But I didn't go to his hotel room for that. I honestly don't know why I did it."

"Do you regret it?"

"No. I don't."

"Did you lie when you said you loved him?"

"No. At least I don't think I did."

TK is silent. He looks at her, in a way that is slightly intimate, but not probing. Marjan sighs and slowly cracks each of her knuckles in perfect succession.

"I wasn't lying when I told him I loved him. But I didn't tell him how I love him."

TK still doesn't reply. He is partially thinking and partially listening. Marjan bites her lip in a way that makes her seem ashamed, which is not like her.

"How do you love him?" TK pulls Marjan out of her bubble of shame with his question. She isn't sure she has an answer, but she does. She just wants to hold it like a treasure for a moment.

"I love him like a friend. Closer than a brother." Marjan looks at TK like he is going to think she is crazy. He doesn't, because that was how he felt about girls he was supposed to want to be with.

"That's how I described how I felt about girls, Marjan."

"What?" Marjan's face completely changes from shame to something like awe. She shakes her head slowly, in disbelief. "But I feel that way about everyone. I've never looked at a girl, or a guy, and wanted to be with them. It's just Salim. I wanted it to be like the plan I always envisioned."

"Life never goes according to plan. Wasn't our plan tonight to drive 4 drunk guys to their houses so they didn't kill anyone on the roads? And look where we are now?"

"I know. But I just wanted one thing to work out exactly the way I envisioned it when I was 12 years old."

"If life was the way I envisioned it when I was 12 years old, I would be living in New York, my parents would not be hovering over me like chickens, and I would not have the incredible life I have now. Carlos, the 126. Sometimes plans change for the better, Marj." TK reaches out and takes her hand. She squeezes it with a smile on her face.

TK is right. 12-year-old Marjan's plan did not include becoming a firefighter or living in Texas, or anything that had happened in the past year and a half. Plans change, even in love.

#911 lone star fanfiction #911 lonestar #marjan marwani #ace #tk strand #911 lone star #911

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