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thescatterbrainedwriter · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Karaoke

Word count: ~4,000

Warnings: none

Pairings: Oc x Cannon (lite)

Flash fanfic

**Note: at this point in time, none of team Flash know what Estrata’s real name is. Estrata = Emily. Also, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her in places 😅 Enjoy!! 🥔 🎨

——

Two weeks, only about two weeks had passed since the enlightenment was halted and Harrison was given his basic mind back. While he wasn’t the easiest person to deal with he cared deeply for the Team Flash of Earth 1, it just happened to be buried under layers of grump and grief and worry. It was so buried in fact, Emily couldn’t really believe she had taken a liking to him. Everyone was devastated when they heard what was happening to his mind because of the thinking cap, and everyone was equally ecstatic when Marlize was able to restore it, but Emily underestimated how much it affected her. Which is probably how she found herself in this predicament.

The last time Jessie had payed Earth 1 a visit, Emily gave her a subspace communication relay in order to contact the Lab on Earth 1 easier. It was able to link up to the coms to both her personal headset and the coms in the cortex, something she discovered was possible by accident when Thawn was masquerading as Dr. Wells. With this new avenue opened, they were able to keep tabs on the reconstruction of Earth 2 after Zoom and Jessie could ask Barry questions if needed without breaching. It also meant Emily could call Jessie and vice versa whenever the opportunity struck them, and the opportunity that presented itself to Emily had her debating wether or not to call.

Secluding herself in her accommodation room, she paced around. The constant mental back and forth had caused her heart rate to increase due to self imposed stress and indecision. It would be totally understandable to call and ask how he’s doing, given what he went through recently, she told herself. Besides, I’m sure the rest of the team would like a status update. We all got attached to him after all, I could even ask how the reconstruction was going, or how Jessie is doing. I’m sure it’s been hard on her too. She paused, turned on her heels, and reversed the circle she was walking in. No, no, I don’t want to bother her. I’m sure she’s busy with her own responsibilities. I don’t want to come off as clingy either, she contradicted herself. But I’m sure he’ll appreciate the fact we’re all thinking about him and checking in to see how he’s doing, she said reversing the circle again. Ugh, but what if.....what if the constant checks are irritating to him? It’s only been 11 days and he’s gotten 5 check in calls already. Then again, some of those check ins were about the reconstruction and Jessie, he just happened to be in the background. She smiled remembering one call where he managed to push Jessie out of frame a took it over, and another where he claimed to have borrowed the relay just to say hi. I’ll have to build him his own, that way Jessie won’t have to share, or at the very least have it stolen again. Yes, I think I’ll do that.

Having made up her mind and deciding not to call, she headed toward Cisco’s lab to see if she could find equivalent parts to the relay she already made for Jessie. She hadn’t even made it two steps toward the door when her earpiece chimed. Calling up the accompanying hud screen she was surprised to see Jessie calling. “Oh, Jessie hey! Believe it or not I was debating on if I should call you or not. What a coincidence.”

“Yeah, how ‘bout that,” Jessie replied with a smile. “I was just calling to see how things were going there. Anything exciting?”

“No, not really. Just, you know, meeting Barry and Iris’ daughter. Their future daughter.”

“Wait, what??” Jessie near yelled. “Future daughter? How??”

“Turns out she’s a little speedster herself,” Emily replied with a shrug.

“Wha— well actually that doesn’t surprise me, honestly.” They both laughed in unison before Emily paused. “Well, since you’re already on call,” she started, “how’s your dad? Is he still improving?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Jessie replied looking around what looked like the living room behind her. “Yeah, he’s starting to be his old brainy self again.”

“Jessie? Is that you? Who are you talking to?” Emily heard a voice echo from somewhere behind the girl. “Yeah, it’s just me,” Jessie responded yelling off screen. “It’s Estrata, she was wondering how you were doing.”

“Estrata?” Harry repeated now sounding closer. “Hey, hey!” Harry greeted barging his way into frame. “Hi, what’s up?” Emily chuckled as Jessie groaned in protest at the intrusion. “Dad, c’mon really?”

“Harry, really. Give her some space, you’re practically melding your face into hers.”

“Oh come one, she loves this,” he teased rubbing his cheek against hers. “See?”

“Uuuugh, dad! Stop that!” Jessie complained pushing him away. “Honestly, I don’t know which version of you is more annoying.”

“Aww, he just loves you is all,” Emily teased with a chuckle.

“Oh not you too!” She whined with a laugh.

“So, you calling to check on me again?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Oh no, actually I was the one who called her,” Jessie replied. “Figured I’d be the one to check in for a change.”

“Oh, I see,” Harry said a little sad.

“She was debating on calling though,” she added with a smirk. Harry looked at her, then Emily. “Oh? You were? Why didn’t you?”

“I....didn’t want to seem like I was bothering you,” she explained. “It’s only been about 2 weeks and you’ve had so many calls already and—“

“Estrata,” he interjected, “it’s ok. Really. You guys are like family, and family makes sure everyone’s ok.”

*Yeah, family...* Emily thought to herself. *We’re family, not more.* “Well, since you seem to be well on your way to mending, and Jessie, you seem to be holding up pretty well along with Earth 2, I’m gonna go. I have a project planned and have yet to start.”

“Oh hey, wait!” Harry cut in nearly shoving Jessie out if the way again as he leaned over the back of the couch. “You had, wanted to, uh, see Earth 2 right?”

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Well, reconstruction is, as you said, going well, and while it may not look like— much like how it was before, it uh, it would be. Well it would be a good opportunity to come and, uh, see things. If-if you still wanted to, that is. I could even show you around, if yooouuu wanted.”

Emily paused with a small smile as he rambled and was amused with how he seemed to get flustered by the end of it. The pause seemed to make him more nervous as he darted his eyes toward Jessie. “Jessie could come too, if you wanted. You’re ok with that right?”

“Uh yeah, yeah sure. I, would actually love that.”

“See, she would love it. So, what do you think?” Harry asked with a hint of excitement.

“Ok, alright. You’ve convinced me,” Emily chuckled. “When would be a good day?”

Harry froze clearly not having thought this far, maybe not even thinking this conversation would even happen in the first place. “Toooooomorrow would probably be a good fit,” Jessie offered noting his brain freeze. “I can get the night off from being Jessie Quick, Dad’s taking fewer hours at the lab and by the sounds of things, you have one extra hand to help with whatever meta comes up. You should be able to get away for a night, right.”

Harry watched the screen in anticipation as Emily considered the points. “Yeah, ok.” She finally said with a smile. “I’ll tell them I’ll be gone tomorrow night. What time did you want to start the tour?”

“6:30?” Harry postulated looking at Jessie for confirmation. “That works for me,” she confirmed. “Hmmmm, yeah I think I can swing that,” Emily confirmed as well. “Please keep in mind though, it’s possible I’ll be late. We’re trying to find a particularly difficult meta, one that’s killing other metas. So it might get, well, a little dicey. I’ll call if I have to cancel, alright?” Harry and Jessie both stared at her with blank expressions. “You, uh, failed to mention that point of excitement,” Jessie said.

“Oh, I did?” Emily asked obliviously.

“Uh huh, yeah. You did. You only mentioned Barry and Iris’ daughter, by the way what was her name?”

“Wait, they have a daughter?” Harry asked with the news. “Future daughter,” Jessie answered. Harry sighed bowing his head. “Of course there’s time travel involved.....”

“Nora,” Emily answered. “Nora West-Alan after Barry’s mom. She also decided to follow in Barry’s footsteps by becoming a CSI.”

“I don’t think I could expect anything less,” Harry commented.

“Alright, so we’ll expect you by 6:30 but will plan for delays. Sound cool?” Jessie said getting the conversation back on track. Harry and Emily nodded in agreement. “Yes, that sounds like a plan,” Emily confirmed.

“Alright, I’ll— we’ll, see you tomorrow,” Harry said with an awkward smile. “Oh and, please. Be careful, with the, the murder, meta.” Emily smiled back with a wide grin. “I’m always careful, don’t you worry,” she said waving goodbye before Jessie ended the call. She stood dwelling on the conversation for a while before she continued toward Cisco’s lab, what better opportunity to deliver him his own relay than when she went to visit.

——

Shortly after Weather Witch was apprehended and her weather vein turned in, Emily hung around the cortex and waited for team to come back thinking of how to say what she needed to say. Once everyone was present she decided to just go for it. “Hey, guys?” They paused turning their attention to her. “I’m uh, I’m not gonna be available, tonight. I have plans.”

“What kind of plans?” Barry asked curiously. She never had plans and usually hung around the lab all the time. “I uhm, I am going to Earth 2.” Emily replied.

“Is everything ok over there?” Barry asked somewhat concerned.

“Oh yeah yeah,” Emily assured. “I was just invited to a tour around.”

“Really? A tour?” Barry asked sadly. Emily giggled. “Yeah, I had mentioned in passing that I wanted to see Earth 2 seeing as it’s so different and Harry said it was a pretty good time to see it since everything is relatively quiet now.”

“Harry invited you?” Cisco asked raising an eyebrow.

“Him and Jessie. She actually set up the time.” Cisco smiled. “Oh ok. She was the one who set up the time.”

Emily squinted at him. “....yes....? Anyway, I won’t be able to help with Cicada, but with Nora here I doubt you’ll miss me much.”

“You gonna need me to open a breach?” Cisco asked.

“No, Harry has that covered. Thanks though.” Cisco pouted having wanted to witness the potential awkwardness. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go get ready to leave. Behave and, don’t hurt yourselves too badly, alright?”

“Can’t promise you anything,” Barry said with a smile.

“We’ll make sure he’s safe. For the most part anyway,” Cisco adds. Emily smiles with a nod before exiting to start preparations to travel to Earth 2. As she was leaving Cisco’s lab having picked up some spare parts for Harry to repair his relay if needed, Nora came across her. “Oh, hey Estrata! What cha doin?”

“Oh, Nora!” she said in surprise. “Hey! I uh, I’m just. Uhhh.....” Emily paused trying to think of how to put it. “I’m going to Earth 2 for a tour with Harry and Jessie.”

“Like a date?” Nora asked.

“Erm, n-no. Not a date,” Emily stuttered suddenly nervous about such prospect. “No, with the reconstruction after Zoom well on its way, and I think near completion at this point, Harry said it was a good opportunity for me to get a good look around. I’ve wanted to see things since my first accidental visit.”

“Accidental visit?” Nora said quizzically. “What do you mean by accidental?”

“Well, you see, I’m able to make personalized wormholes to get to and from different points faster. Usually I’m able to use them without issue but, recently I’ve been ‘Earth hopping’ and somehow managing to travel to Earths in different multiverses. In this case I managed to stay in this particular one.” Nora stared at her trying to compute what she was just told. “Soooo, kinda like how my dad uses the speed force to go to other Earths?” Emily paused to consider the comparison. “Yeah, kinda. Just, with more room for unforeseen world travel. The way I do it can be wildly inaccurate.”

“Sounds pretty scary,” Nora commented.

Emily shrugged. “I was terrified the first time it happened, but now I’m pretty used to it, if not a little annoyed,” she sighed with a smile. “I’m ready to go home, but the places I’ve landed and people I’ve met have made me less homesick.”

“Hope I’m one of those people,” Nora smiled.

“Yes, yes you are,” Emily confirmed making her smile wider. “I can confidently say I’ve not met anyone like you in all my travels.”

“So how many other Earths have you gone to?”

Emily paused to think. “Hmmm, looks like......7 at the very least. Not including multiverse Earths.” Nora’s eyes grew wide in awe at the number. “Wow....” she whispered making Emily chuckle. “Ok, well, I have to finish getting ready. Could you try helping Cisco keep your father safe while I’m gone for the night?”

“Oh? All night?” Nora asked mischievously. Emily’s face dropped unenthusiastically and gave her a look. “No,” she said plainly. “Not for that.” Nora just smiled. “Ok, whatever you say.” Emily huffed before heading off to change. She wanted to see if she could blend in and not stand out so much and decided on straight brown pants, a green blouse, and some flats. She stood looking in the mirror wondering if this was too much before taking a breath deciding to forget thinking about it too deeply and left for the breach room.

On her way down one of her drones who were free roaming followed her whirring in curiosity asking what she was doing. “Oh, hey GP. Where? I’m going to Earth 2.” The drone whirred again in concern. “I’ll be ok. I promise. It’ll just be for a few hours,” she said only managing a few steps before the drone was in her face again rambling on about its concerns. She chuckled grabbing it gently with both hands, similar to cupping someone’s face, and smiled softly. “Is this your way of saying you wanna come too?” It made what sounded like a sheepish admittance sound making her giggle. “Ok, fine. You can come too. But we have to hurry, it’s almost time to go.” Just as she entered the breach room a connection forms and Harry appears. Emily smiled and waved, Harry returning the gesture with an awkward smile. “Ready?” He asked. Emily nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”

He extended a hand toward the breach ushering her in first, Emily bowed with a smile before jumping through with Harry right behind. Jessie greeted them on the other side with a smile. “Hey Es!” She said with a wave. “Welcome back to Earth 2!”

“Hey Jessie!” Emily replied. “Long time no see! In person anyway.” Jessie laughed in agreement as Harry popped back through and the breach closed once again. “Alright, lets get going,” Harry said ushering them both out. “I suppose we’ll start with the Lab, it’s been refurbished since you last crashed in.”

“Alright,” Emily agreed. She had only seen the lobby last time and, while she didn’t expect many differences, she still wanted to see the rest of it. Since they were on one of the lowest levels, they stopped at the pipeline first. It wasn’t quite as repaired as on Earth 1, this Earth didn’t have an Eobard to repair it for his personal use, but it was a bit more than just run down. Walking onto the gangway inside, Emily was still filled with awe at the large structure even if it looked mostly like the one she was well aware of. “Can I take a look all the way around?” Emily asked already floating a few inches off the ground. Harry sighed recognizing she was asking out of courtesy and would investigate one way or another and nodded with a smile. “Sure, have at it.”

“I’ll race ya!” Jessie exclaimed before taking off. “No, wait, Jes—“ Harry began before cutting off his sentence as Emily took off after her. Jessie makes it back first with Emily close behind, the latter crashing into the former sending them to the bottom of the pipeline a few feet below. They erupt into laughter with Harry trying not to loose his cool resorting to just looking over the edge. “Are you two ok? Are you done?” He called down. Emily pops back up, Jessie in tow, with both confirming they were fine. Placing Jessie back onto the gangplank, Emily makes her way back around, albeit slower this time, and takes her time looking at the construction. It took 20 minutes but she eventually came back around, floating parallel to the ground facing the ceiling.

“Satisfied?” Harry asked when she stopped above the gangplank again. Still upside down, Emily looked over with a smile and nodded. “Yes, I think my curiosity is sated for now.” Harry’s heart fluttered for a moment at her smile and he couldn’t help mirroring it before reaching out a hand to her to escort her back in. Flipping around Emily landed and took his hand, Jessie watching the exchange with amused curiosity and following silently behind with a smirk playing at her lips.

Labs, offices, even just hallways, Emily looked over them all with wide hungry eyes. Harry didn’t understand but found it amusing how inquisitive she became. “This your office?” She asked after a while pointing into a relatively large room with a desk, chairs, coffee table and a medium sized couch. “Uh, yeah. Yeah that’s mine,” Harry responded as she wandered in. “Hmmm, you know. Come to think of it....” Emily said looking around. “I’m not sure Harrison Wells of Earth 1 had an office. None that I remember seeing anyway.” She paused. “Unless you count the time vault, but it looked like a futuristic closet more than an office. But who knows, maybe that’s how future offices look....” She turns and smiles wide. “I like the aesthetic of your office much better.”

“Aannnd what about it do you like?” He asked following her in. She shrugs looking around again. “I dunno, just pleasing to the eye.” Harry’s gaze lingered on her as she continued looking around before he realized what he was doing and snapped himself back. “Ahem, shall we see the rest of the city now then?” He asked trying to distract himself. “Yeah sure!” Emily says with a smile. Harry’s heart skipped but he kept his composure enough to turn around and lead her and Jessie out of the Lab. Jessie continued to watch amused, even more so at the fact Emily seemed oblivious. She trailed behind them as they continued walking around the city, watching in amusement at their interactions. Emily would pay close attention to what Harry was saying or point out, Harry seemed to get more expressive as he got more comfortable, they even seemed to walk closer to each other becoming more comfortable with each other’s presence.

“So, what do you think so far?” She asked Emily linking her arm around hers. Surprised, Emily paused before smiling at her and placing her free hand on Jessie’s. “This is amazing!”

“Yeah, my dad is pretty great huh?” Jessie asks with a grin. Emily trips having been caught off guard by the unexpected implication of the question. “I... wha...” She glances over at Harry, who had shot a look over at Jessie, and tries not to blush as she searches for what to say. “Well, I mean.... least he’s not grumpy anymore.” Jessie giggles and Harry huffs. “And he does know how to be very detailed,” she continued. “I’m honestly surprised how emotive he became explaining everything.”

“I can be enthusiastic,” Harry near pouted.

“Everyone *can* be enthusiastic, it’s just surprising *you* managed it. Given your past interactions, can you blame me for not believing?” Emily asked. Harry paused before shrugging. “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” he relented. Emily smiled before looking down at her feet while they walked, Harry doing the same, and they continued in awkward silence until Jessie spotted Jitters near by. How fortunate they were walking by at that moment, and it seemed they had a new venue featured. “Hey,” Jessie piped up, “why don’t we stop into Jitters for a bit? I could use a coffee or something.”

Harry looked over at the newly repaired bistro and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. What do you think Estrata?” Emily noticed the ad for the featured venue and pursed her lips with a pause. She had a tingling that Jessie was trying to fenangle something sneaky but nodded in agreement anyway. “Yeah, sure. Good idea, Jessie,” she said emphasizing the name with a suspicious squint her way. Jessie just smiled and pulled her along with Harry following close behind. “Oh? Open mic?” Harry observed quickly reading the sign. “That’s different.”

“Yeah....” Emily said eyeing Jessie again. “Quite the coincidence we happened to walk by as they were featuring such a thing. Huh, Jessie?”

“Yeah, I mean what are the odds?” Jessie tried to dismiss. “Hey, didn’t you say you like to sing in your free time? You should sing something!” Emily crossed her arms looking unamused. “Subtle....”

“Hey yeah,” Harry agreed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea Jessie,” he grinned at her, Jessie doing the same. “I’ll go get some coffee,” she said briskly walking to the counter. “He—wha—“ Emily stuttered trying to counter. “Ok, c’mon,” Harry said ushering Emily toward the back of the shoppe to sign her up. “Wai— n— “ Emily protests trying to switch gears. “Harry, no, please, I don’t— I don’t sing in public. Harry no, do—“ she cut her protests short in an effort to act natural when they met with the open mic organizer. “Hey,” Harry said with a smile. “Hi,” Emily added trying to compose herself. “Hey folks,” the man said with a smile. “Can I help you with sumt’n?”

“Yes! Yes, you can,” Harry quickly answers cutting Emily off before she could try weaseling out. The man raised an eyebrow suspiciously noting Emily’s nervous face and Harry’s overzealous behavior. “And in what way?” He asked cautiously.

“She would..... like to.... to.... sign up for the op—en mic. Thing....” Harry said amid Emily trying to cover his face with her hand as he spoke. The man still didn’t look convinced and darted a look between them. “She sings,” Harry assured. “I sing as a hobby,” Emily clarified. “And not in front of people!”

“Well lucky for you we’re open to all skill levels,” the man said with a smile. “And it looks like you’re the only one who was interested so far. I’ll put you at the top of the list, I just need a name.” Emily gave a long sigh and stared at Harry, who just smiled tilting his head encouragingly at the man, before begrudgingly answering. “You can put down Estrata.”

“Ah, what a unique name,” he commented scribbling it down. “We’ll be calling you up momentarily. We’re just waiting to see if anyone else is interested, but it’s looking like you’re the only one. For now anyway.” Harry smiled at Emily who just resorted to glare at him. “Hey have fun,” Harry said turning and briskly walking away and toward Jessie. “I don’t like you anymore,” Emily teased. “You’ll do great,” Harry assured with a wink causing Emily to just roll her eyes. All she could do was watch as Harry met back up with Jessie and they both took a seat to wait for things to start. They both grinned over at her and Emily just half smiled and chuckled shaking her head. “Walking migraines, both of them,” she muttered.

After a few more minutes of anxious waiting, the man greeted Emily again. “Looks like it’s your lucky night,” he said cheerfully. “No one else has signed up so you get the floor all to yourself.” Emily puffed her cheeks and sighed. “Well, maybe after I sing once, someone else will come up,” she wondered aloud. “May well be the case,” the man agreed before walking over to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank y’all for coming out to C. C. Jitters. Tonight, we’re gonna be trying something a little different, just to see what y’all think.” He smiled waving his hand toward Emily who stiffened out of anxiety. “We have a lovely young lady by the name of Estrata who has graciously agreed to sing for y’all tonight to get this open mic going. So please, don’t leave her all alone up here. If you like what you hear and want to join in and try your hand at it, feel free to step on up.” The man turned and smiled at Emily motioning toward the mic indicating she was free to start. “Just so you’re aware, I’m not a lounge singer in any capacity.” Emily warned. The man just smiled figuring she was trying to find an excuse to leave. “Give ‘em whatever it is you’ve got.”

Emily gave a nervous smile and cautiously made her way to the mic, it had been quite a while since she had done something like this so she was worried she would mess up somehow. “Aaaand I’ve suddenly forgotten every song I ever knew....” she muttered to herself. She looked around in a mild panic before realizing no one was really paying her much mind, Harry and Jessie excluded. “Right, right, lounge singers were somewhat like background singers.” GP popped up next to her and buzzed quizzically. “I dunno what to sing,” Emily hoarsely whispered covering the mic. GP buzzed again with a suggestion and Emily smiled. “Ah, how could I forget that one?”

“Aww, she’s nervous,” Jessie smiled observing Emily standing awkwardly. “She always seems so care free, this is actually really..... adorable.”

“Yeah....” Harry agreed absentmindedly with a smile. Jessie raised an eyebrow peeking over at him. “What was that?” Harry paused before burying his face into his coffee and mumbled something trying to dismiss her inquiry. She just smirked going back to sipping her own coffee and turned her attention back to Emily.

Emily took a deep breath and looked into the audience. Most were still not paying attention but she didn’t care, she’d sing one song and go. Just one. “I.... apologize in advance,” she said to the handful of people watching. “I’m a little rusty, and not a lounge singer so, here goes nothing....” she nodded to GP who started playing the music part of the song and she tentatively started.

* You light the skies, up above me*

*A star, so bright, you blind me, yeah*

*Don't close your eyes*

*Don't fade away, don't fade away, oh*

*Yeah, you and me, we can ride on a star*

*If you stay with me, girl*

*We can rule the world*

*Yeah, you and me, we can light up the sky*

*If you stay by my side*

*We can rule the world*

Her voice cracked and wavered every now and then and her posture was stiff. She felt the same as when she sang at her high school talent show and kept her eyes closed to stave off the panic seeded in the pit of her stomach.

*If walls break down, I will comfort you*

*If angels cry, oh I'll be there for you*

*You've saved my soul*

*Don't leave me now, don't leave me now, oh*

*Yeah, you and me, we can ride on a star*

*If you stay with me, girl*

*We can rule the world*

*Yeah, you and me, we can light up the sky*

*If you stay by my side*

*We can rule the world*

*Oh, all the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you*

*All the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you, oh*

She was still stiff but Harry could tell she was getting more comfortable. He saw her becoming more emotive, even just a little, and started putting some emotion into the lyrics. He smiled nearly forgetting about his coffee, Jessie smirked over at him and continued to sip her coffee acting as though she didn’t see.

* Yeah, you and me, we can ride on a star*

*If you stay with me, girl*

*We can rule the world*

*Yeah, you and me, we can light up the sky*

*If you stay by my side*

*We can rule the world*

*All the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you*

Getting a bit braver, Emily opened her eyes and smiled awkwardly as the new number of people watching, her ears got red when she realized Harry was watching quite close making her voice crack again. She griped the microphone pole tight to ground her so she wouldn’t loose composure as she closed out the song.

*All the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you*

*All the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you*

*All the stars are coming out tonight*

*They're lighting up the sky tonight*

*For you, for you*

Emily let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and bowed her head a little to signal the end of the song. A few people in the crowd clapped and praised her singing making her smile wide. “Oh, thank you!” she said bowing again. “I’m glad you liked it!”

“Sing another one!” Jessie yelled from the back.

“What?” Emily asked mildly panicking. It grew into a flush when she heard a few other people ask for another as well. “I.... uh...... hmmm....”

“C’mon, that was great! Pleeeease?” Jessie pleaded. Emily glanced over at Harry who had averted his gaze to closely examine a near by wall as he sipped his coffee that was somehow not yet empty. Emily sighed and rolled her head. “Ok, alright. Fine, one more. I’ll give you one more.”

“So, what would you little maniacs like to do first?” She asked after a pause to no one in particular placing her hands on her hips and wiggling her eyebrows as she started again. GP happily started the music moving in what could be interpreted as amusement.

*Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers*

*Shut my eyes and count to ten*

*It goes in one ear out the other, one ear out the other*

*Burning bright right till the end*

*Now you'll be missing from the photographs, missing from the photographs*

* Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers*

*In my thoughts you're far away*

*And you are whistling the melody, whistling the melody*

*Crystallizing clear as day*

*Oh, I can picture you so easily, picture you so easily*

*What’s gonna be left of the world if you’re not in it*

*What's gonna be left of the world, oh*

Feeling far more comfortable than before, she began acting out some of the lyrics and danced a bit in place. Harry even noticed she was smiling more, mainly at GP as he flew around her.

*Every minute and every hour*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

*Every stumble and each misfire*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

*Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers*

*Caught off guard by your favourite song*

*I'll be dancing at a funeral, dancing at a funeral*

*Sleeping in the clothes you love*

*It's such a shame we had to see them burn, shame we had to see them burn*

*What's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it*

*What's gonna be left of the world, oh*

*Every minute and every hour*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

*Every stumble and each misfire*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

Emily paused and changed her posture to be a bit more composed. "If you want to be a party animal, you have to learn to live in the jungle. Now stop worrying and go get dressed,” she spoke, though somewhat exaggerated, before continuing singing.

*You might have to excuse me*

*I've lost control of all my senses*

*And you might have to excuse me*

*I've lost control of all my words*

*So get drunk, call me a fool*

*Put me in my place, put me in my place*

*Pick me up, up off the floor*

*Put me in my place, put me in my place*

A sudden small jolt of confidence and mischief prompted Emily to grip the mic and look into the crowd with a challenging look, amusement pulled at her lips every time she sang ‘put me in my place’ and her gaze swept the room ending in a wink.

*Every minute and every hour*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

*Every stumble and each misfire*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

*Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers*

*'Cause every minute and every hour*

*I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more*

She smiled and giggled when the song ended, she had the attention of most of the room now and the applause was much louder this time around. She bowed again and attempted to leave when the crowd protested again. “No no,” Emily dismissed. “No, I’m— I was in the middle of.... something. I should get back to that. The.... thing....”

“Oh c’mon,” Harry called out. “You can do one more.” Jessie’s eyes grew wide in surprise as she looked over at her dad, his arms were crossed over his chest and he had a sly smirk threatening to spread over his face. She smiled and giggled turning to look at Emily, who was just as surprised, before chiming in. “Yeah, one more! Please?”

“Yeah, please?” a young woman called from another near by table. Emily recognized her and her two friends as the ones who hung around her table whenever she visited the shoppe on her accidental trip a while ago. She smiled awkwardly and chuckled nervously as her face became rather rosy. “Alright, alright. One more, but this is the last one!” The room cheered and clapped as they waited in anticipation. She gave a long sigh into the mic and gave a stern look at Harry. “You see, Harry, this is why I don’t sing in public,” she said with her mouth close to the mic. Harry just grinned with a chuckle. Emily sighed with a growl preparing for what she hoped to be her last number.

* Sometimes you need a reason*

*A little love you can't believe in*

*A little hug, a little day dreaming*

*Apparently there's some correlation*

*Between hearts and outer space*

*All I'm really trying to say is*

*That I'm just a Sagittarius and we're kind of spontaneous*

*So let's fly out to Vegas and find an Elvis to marry us*

*Don't try to argue with the moon*

*We can blame it on the stars*

*Oh, come on let your heart just breathe*

*Stars, oh, come one let your guard down*

*And we can blame it on the stars*

Having accepted the fact she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, Emily decided to dance along while she sang as GP flew around adding to the up beat mood. Harry watched happily as she slid back into her carefree personality, Jessie also amused by the shift in behavior so quickly although more so with her father encouraging the events and enjoying himself.

* We'd like to think that we're waiting*

*On a previous reservation*

*It's all written in the constellations*

*Now I don't know, but neither do you*

*Truth is, it's a good excuse*

*For both our hearts to let loose*

*And I know that you're a Cancer*

*Which means you like holding hands*

*So show me how to do this dance*

*And spin me like a ceiling fan, oh*

*Don't try to argue with the moon*

*We can blame it on the stars*

*Oh, come on let your heart just breathe*

*Stars, oh come one let your guard down*

*And we can blame it on the stars*

* I read your horoscope*

*And baby you should know*

*Just what your future holds*

*Let your hips move*

*Let my fingers find you*

*Wrap my arms around you, here we go*

*Stars, oh, come on let your heart just breathe*

*Stars, the stars, stars*

*We can blame it on the stars*

*Oh, come on let your heart just breathe*

*Stars, oh, come one let your guard down*

And we can blame it on the stars*

*We can blame it on the stars*

~~~~

So I miss judged the length of this one and had to break it up. It’s juuuuust over the post limit. Stay tuned for part twwoooo 🥔🎨

#harry wells #harrison wells #the flash #flash fiction #fan fiction #oc x canon #my ocs #funny #nora west allen #barry allen

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Two, “Surprise, Surprise”

Find previous chapters here!

Check out the tag I have for this story here!

Sneakyyyyyyyyyyyy Peek!

“The sweetness from my dreams sticks to my body melting against his. His finger dances across my cheek, moving my bed head out of the way. A soft hum leaves his lips above me. He carries a tune I can’t quite place, but I know it’s somewhere at the back of my foggy head. Nonetheless, it relaxes me and somehow reminds me of that H word. Home. Happy, even?

His familiar smell of sandalwood goes around me like a cocoon. And a new addition of vanilla. His smell. Woodsy and sweet. The thought pops into my head before I can warrant it. His fingers clad in clunky rings make circles into my back, not helping.

I can’t think of even one reason why I’d want to leave his arms right now, or maybe ever.”

Song Inspo: If I Go I’m Goin’ by Gregory Alan Isakov (click to listen)

“Hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Within seconds, the elevator doors part to reveal the lobby. And the moment has passed.

Finito.

“Hey, d’ya know where there’s a loo, Becks? I need t’ take a leak,” Harry requests, casting his eyes down the hallways on either side of us.

“Yeah, follow me,” I tell him. Turning a corner, I pass the visitor’s desk and soon see the tiled hallway I’m looking for. “Take that hallway and it’ll be on your left.”

“Thanks, love. I’ll only be a mo’,” he murmurs, squeezing my arm. I nod quietly, keeping an eye on him until his tousled hair escapes from view.

People mill around the lobby, visiting the gift shop, coming and going, and checking in for appointments and such. Arrangements of chairs occupy corners, pictures don walls, and a grand piano is tucked away in the corner. Its lone bench beckoning me.

“Excuse me, ma’m. Would it be alright if I-?” I begin to ask the graying lady sitting at the vistor’s desk, nodding to the empty piano.

“Oh if you know how to, yes please do. We’ve been without a regular pianist for too long. A song would be lovely,” she chirps, a smile spreading on her fuschia painted lips.

It sparks one on my own, and I thank her as I pull out the raven-colored bench. It takes me a minute to get comfortable, testing the pedals and warming up my fingers. My lips curl into a smile when the ivories welcome my return, warming under my touch. I play a few warmups from memory, and peek to see if anybody’s watching.

Exhaling, I’m relieved to be left alone in the corner, to my own devices. Inhaling, I steady myself and let my fingers remember. A few seconds in I stumble, but I recover and soon close my eyes. The music falls over me and my muscles play their memories. I feel the music pour out of me and into my fingers, then onto the keys and soon surrounding me. It greets me and asks why I’ve been gone so long. I’m not sure, but it feels like it’s only been days since I’ve touched a piano. Not years.

I’m broken from my reverie when I hear clapping. My fingers stutter to a messy halt, stopping me. Inhaling quickly, I turn my head and find him standing there. Harry, beaming with a smile dripping of pride. He tongues at his bottom lip as he leans against the wall behind me.

“Holy shit,” he utters with a breathy laugh, throwing up his hands. “When were ya gonna tell me yer a piano prodigy?”

“I-I’m not, I don’t know what you’re saying,” the words tumble from me sloppily. Closing the cover over the keys, I avoid his stare that burns into the back of my head.

“Becks, yer a bloomin’ Bach, for Christ’s sake!” his exclamation is accompanied by his incoming footsteps. I gulp, unsure of when to face him, or when to admit it. Laughing, he continues, “I mean, ‘ve wrote a few songs on tha piano, but nuthin’ ever like that. Bloody hell.”

“I didn’t write it,” I argue, wringing my hands in my lap. They ache to touch the keys again, and to dance over them. It’s hard to stop once you’ve started and especially to leave a song unfinished.

“Then who did, huh?”

“Um, another person in the world named Rebecca Holte,” I admit meekly, my head dropping.

“Becks!” Harry chuckles, the delightful sound tickling goosebumps on the back of my neck. Jumping at vibrations on the bench, I find him sitting down next to me. “That was fantastic, love! I can’ believe ya wrote that.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I’m lost for words. My word bank is at zero dollars, or more like, negative five. But it doesn’t feel so bad when he lifts the cover and pokes at a key. “It was a long time ago,” I mutter, inching my fingers towards the ivories again.

“Ya neva told me ya played, how come?” Harry chimes, his toothy smile visible from the corner of my eye. But I don’t face it, because I can’t. My silence grows awkward, and he looks away. “‘m sorry, ya don’ hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’ want.” his voice is quiet and the polar opposite from before. It prods at my heart, opening up bottles of guilt that spill amongst the walls.

My right hand settles into a shape on the keys, and pokes out a small melody. I see his head turn to watch, but then I stop. A few moments pass before I hear him stroke out a melody with his long ringed fingers.

“My grandpa taught me when I was 6, the one who passed. He was a musician and had a piano at his house, a family one that was passed down,” I begin, playing a little ditty once his ends. We go back and forth, echoing the other with our playing. Sometimes playing over the other, but for the most part, just to ourselves.

“I’d always wanted t’ learn. I picked up sum from lessons, but notta whole lot. ‘m betta on guitar, I guess,” he says softly, notes following his words. I feel my head start to loosen up, and I begin to sway with the piece I play. My arms relax and I fix my slouch, moving closer to the keys.

“It’s hard, the lessons. I had them twice a week with practice at home, and then eventually the practice would be an hour each night. ‘Oh, forget about your maths homework, you need to practice piano. You’re not sitting up straight enough. Your hands are too rigid. You’re playing the keys too hard. No, you can’t go to your friend’s house tonight, because you need to practice piano. No, you can’t play this sport or that sport, because they might hurt your hands . . . ,’” the words open a door I thought I had shut long ago. The tinny taste of blood in my mouth reminds me it never was. Exhaling, I relax my mouth and release the inside of my cheek I didn’t realize I was biting.

“Fook ‘m sorry, Becks. Tha’s no life fer a kid. Ya were jus’ li’l, wanted t’ play outside an’ be normal - not confined t’ a bleedin’ piano,” Harry murmurs, assigning words to my thoughts. My head goes up and down with a confirming ‘yeah.’

“Doesn’t seem like it was yer dad with how well tha two o’ you get on. Was it yer mum then?”

“Mmmmhmm,” I reveal, playing one last key.

“‘m sorry, Becks. I rememba when she rang that day when ya first started workin’ fer me, and she upset ya real bad,” he mumbles, plunking out ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ softly. “Figured maybe it had sumthin’ t’ do with her not bein’ here with yer dad. Are yers divorced too?”

“Yeah,” I confess in a whisper.

“Mmmm. How long did it go on with her bein’ like that with tha piano?”

My fingers freeze and slide off of the keys. They escape into the confines of my sleeves. The bench squeaks as I stand and turn away. I hear him say my name, but I’ve set my path. And I walk away. The sound of pounded keys follows and I see the visitor’s desk lady give us a look. I ignore it. But I can’t disregard the feeling of his hand on my shoulder.

“Becks, what ‘s it? Wha’d I say?” Harry wonders aloud. But I don’t stop, and I don’t answer him. I keep walking, and without meaning it, away from him. “Don’ do dis ‘gain,” he implores, his volume rising. And that’s what gets me - what gets me to stop. But it doesn’t turn me around to look at him.

No, it can’t be that easy, can it?

“Do what?” I ask feebly, hiding my hands away in the pocket of my jumper.

“Shut me out, Becks,” he sighs, both perturbed and upset. “Ya were jus’ lettin’ me in ‘gain. So don’ push me away now, not again.”

Peering up at the cream-colored ceiling, I reflect his sigh. And I know he heard it when my head falls, confusion filling it. Because he groans and I’m sure he’s shaking his head behind me. Words tickle at the edge of my lips, but I try to shake my head free of them. “Stop,” I retort under my breath.

“What, ya gonna gimme tha silent treatment now?” he questions, anger framing his voice. I hear a ruffle of his clothes and the shifting of his feet, a few steps behind me. “If ‘s too much, then tell me, Becks. Tell me ‘m pushin’ too far, don’ jus’ ignore me. If ‘s too hard t’ talk ‘bout, then tell me. I can’t read minds, but I can tell when ‘m not wanted ‘round.”

But his words don’t make sense and there are too many sounds around me. And my stomach is growling from hunger. My neck and back ache from sleeping on that damned sofa. My head turns at the sound of a phone ringing, and then obscenities leave his lips. I move out of the way of people coming off the lift. The one we rode down on. Leaning against a wall, I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly. A minute passes of pouting and trying to hear what he’s saying to the person on the phone, when suddenly they stop. He mutters a ‘fuck’ before huffing loudly.

“I gotta go, me case has been moved up. Tha one befo’ me finished early. I can’t do brekky, but ‘m not sure ya even wanted t’ anymo’,” Harry announces, clucking his tongue as his voice rifles through emotions. I hear what sounds like him pounding or slapping his hands together mindlessly. Listening to it distracts me from the mixture of disappointment and guilt bubbling inside of me. “So g’bye then.”

Gulping, the sound of his harsh voice disappears into thin air. Words are a jumbled mess inside of me, so much so that I wouldn’t know what to say if I wanted to talk. But I’m not sure of that, either. Seconds tick by as I try to decide what to do, or say, but decisions have never been my strong suit. Then, something inside of me clicks together, and my feet move.

“Harry, I’m sorry.”

But when I turn around, his green eyes aren’t staring back at mine. Searching the lobby frantically, I just catch a glimpse of his figure stepping past the automatic sliding doors leading outside. And my heart drops further than it’s been in what feels like a long time. Although I know it’s only been a day or so, it’s because he dug it back up from the depths when he got off that lift last night. And now look at what I’ve done.

I did what I’m good at. I pushed him away, again. I fucked it up.

The words pour from my fingers, only stopping to scratch at my nose. But then they pause abruptly, and a blinking cursor stares back at me. Running a hand through my hair, I stretch my arms above my head. Hearing my joints pop and crack, I yawn and slump further down on the sofa. Casting my eyes to the right, I find my dad’s peaceful face snoring across the room. My lips bend into a small smile at the sight. But it dulls when I remember his vomiting episode from earlier. Although brief, it upsets me that it still happened. Rubbing the back of my hand against my drooping eyes, I let them fall shut. Closing my laptop, I set it down on the floor beside me and sprawl out on the sofa. His rattling snores lull me into a fast sleep.

I awake slowly, nuzzling my face back into the pillow. Unsure of how long I was asleep or the time, I try to return to my slumber. My dad’s snores fill the room along with the soft hum of the telly. Some football match, or something or other. Although the door is ajar, I still can hear the sounds of the oncology floor.

Beeping. Footsteps. Voices. Phone’s ringing.

Unbeknownst to me, my eyes snap open. With goosebumps tickling my neck, I turn around to face the door for a reason I can’t name. The scene in front of me is hazy, but after a couple of blinks, it comes into focus. My eyes flit to the dark doorway and fix themselves on something there. Or somebody.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” they murmur in their raspy drawl. Drowsy happiness paints my face instantaneously. “Truce?”

I stare for a few moments, unsure of what I’m seeing. But I decide to believe my eyes. “Mmmmhm,” I nod, yawning. Stretching, I groan tiredly. The tiredness begs me to stay on the sofa and go back to sleep. But he pulls me away, just like he so often does. This time it’s his voice, and well, his return.

Getting to my feet, I wrap my violet knit blanket around my shoulders. “C’mon, li’l one. I brought dinna,” Harry murmurs, nodding his head behind him.

Shuffling my feet over to him, I don’t stop. I run into his chest and encircle his middle with my arms. The blanket just so happens to join the party. “I’m really sorry for earlier,” I mumble into his satiny blush button-down.

His arms come around me, a bag of food bumping against my back. “‘s okay . . this time,” he returns in his breathy laugh, a smile heard at its edges.

“Hmph. I said I was sorry,” I pout into him, below his collarbone. His deep chuckle graces my ears again, as his chest rumbles under my cheek.

“I know, love. Yer cute all sleepy an’ tired, so I guess I can forgive ya.”

“Thanks,” I sigh happily.

The sweetness from my dreams sticks to my body melting against his. His finger dances across my cheek, moving my bed head out of the way. A soft hum leaves his lips above me. He carries a tune I can’t quite place, but I know it’s somewhere at the back of my foggy head. Nonetheless, it relaxes me and somehow reminds me of that H word.

Home. Happy, even?

I can’t think of even one reason why I’d want to leave his arms right now, or maybe ever.

I blame it on the ‘having just woken up’ bit.

Um, Becky, are you forgetting what he just said to you? His choice of words?

Hello?

Anybody home?

Shutup, I tell the annoying voices in my head, trying to savor the moment. And not read into it. Before another stupid voice ruins it, once and for all.

“How’d your case go today?” I wonder aloud into the wrinkles of his shirt. His heartbeat is faint under my skin. Making this all the better, or perhaps, all the worse. That thought rings true when I begin to feel the warmth from his chest underneath the thin fabric.

“Good, thanks fer askin’. Jus’ openin’ statements. Ya don’ get real far afta tha hassle o’ choosin’ a jury, and openin’. Bloody hell, yer like a li’l heater,” Harry answers giggling, his chest falling with a sigh. The hummed tune now forgotten in the wind. “‘m starvin’, le’s go eat.”

A lone whine leaves my lips, reciprocated with his melodic giggle. “C’mon, sleepyhead. I ‘ave tacos,” he brags, messing up my hair. Pulling away, my face feels scrunched into a line. My eyebrows, my lips, my cheeks - my everything. His sparkling smile meets my eyes, once again. “No no no, don’ gimme dat look, you.” His thumb and forefinger pinch my chin, as he grins with blush peppering his cheeks.

I take him in with my eyes officially, but he’s just a little more disheveled since this morning. Waving the bag at me, he takes a step to walk into the hallway.

“Fine,” I groan. Shivering from the sudden loss of heat, I wrap the blanket around me tighter.

I follow him down the hall, passing a couple of nurses and visitors. Giggling, I watch him take a wrong turn at the next corner. After a few directions from me, we finally come across the family room from last night.

“Your case must be interesting if you strayed all the way to Wolverhampton,” I announce, my words framed with a yawn.

“Um yeah, ‘s computer crime. ’m representin’ tha boss who has pretty good evidence their employee stole sum classified information from their work computer network,” Harry answers, his boots announcing their arrival as he walks ahead of me.

“Oh wow,” I answer, plopping onto the gray sofa. Toeing off my faux fur brown boots, they fall to the floor with a clatter. “You must feel pretty confident having taken their case then.”

“Ya, I do. They uh, presented me with loads o’ tha evidence durin’ our consultations. Kinda sold me right then an’ there, makin’ it hard t’ say no,” he replies, taking a seat next to me.

“That’s good,” I murmur, unsure of what more there is to say.

He shrugs off his matte blazer, and goes to unbutton the cuffs of his button down. His humming of that same song fills my ears as I reach a hand into the white paper bag, touching a warm taco.

“Do you want hard shell or soft shell?” I inquire, laying down a spread out napkin on the table.

“Always soft. I dunno how ya can eat those hard shells, Becks. They always tear up tha insides o’ me mouth. They’re not very impressive anyways when most o’ tha time they’re soggy by tha time ya get t’ ‘em.”

Humming a little laugh, I take out another taco to set it down.

“Heeeeey, look at what I found,” Harry chirps, walking back from a shelf with a box in his hand. My eyebrows fall in confusion, trying to make out the words on the box. “Looks like we’re gonna see who’s tha reignin’ champ afta all dis time.”

Shaking the box at me, I hear little things move around inside. The blocky yellow words tilt away from the ceiling for me to see. A bubbly feeling grows in my tummy, bringing a smile to my lips. “Oh God,” I mutter, shaking my head with nerves dancing across my face.

“‘s gonna be me, y’know. ‘m always playin’ Words with Friends on me phone. I got dis one in tha bag, Becks,” he brags, dropping the box to the table with a thud.

“Sure you do. You couldn’t even guess how many times I’ve played that very game all the times I’ve been here.”

“I can only imagine, seein’ as yer always snoozin’ tha day away in there,” he chortles, his nose wrinkling. I roll my eyes at him as I hand him a wrapped softshell taco.

“Thanks,” he says. Stacking the tacos on top of each other, he pushes them over to one side of the table. The crinkling of the wrapping fills the room, before his chewing replaces it. “How many tiles d’we both get ‘gain?” he questions, his voice muffled with food.

“Seven. Hey, I thought you claimed to be a pro at Scrabble,” I reply, sniffling my nose at him in disbelief. Biting into the crispy taco, I resist moaning at the culmination of missed flavors. “The local place makes good tacos, but none are as good as the ones we’d always get at Pedro’s back in London.”

“I couldn’ agree mo’. I don’ think I could ‘ave a betta taco than theirs,” Harry agrees, sliding a tile rack over to me. His knee knocks into mine when he places the black bag of tiles in between us. Something warms inside of me when he carries on, taking another gigantic bite of his taco without mentioning it. I like this comfortable chaos with him, although sometimes I’m not sure what is. But labels always ruin things, don’t they?

“‘Kay, I got an ‘e’, yer turn t’ draw.”

“Well, are we going high or low?” I say, raising my shoulders as my free hand dives into the cloth bag.

“I dunno, thought we always did low card. Like in otha games when yer closa t’ one,” he replies, wrinkling his brows at me, as if I should know this already. His long fingers disappear into the paper bag, coming out with a tortilla chip that crunches between his teeth.

Bringing my legs up onto the sofa and under my blanket, I criss cross them. “No, we always did high card, you goof. I bet you’re just saying that so you can go first,” I argue, pointing a finger at him as the wooden tile sits clasped in my palm.

“Get that finga away from me,” he giggles, swatting my hand away. I scoff, setting down my taco in anticipation to draw our tiles. With that, my finger journeys into the collar of his shirt, tickling his warm freckled neck.

An adorable titter sounds from between his strawberry lips as he traps my finger in his neck. “Stop it, ya know I don’t like bein’ tickled,” Harry insists, but the delightful sounds gracing my ears tell me otherwise. Forgetting the mystery tile on the table, I attack his sides with both of my hands now. His giggles only encourage me, making my fingers dance across his ribs next.

“I don’t remember you being ticklish,” I tell him dumbfoundedly, my lips pressing into a confused line. With my head cocked to the side in astonishment, he tries to curl up into a ball to escape me. But after the tickle fights I had growing up with both Skye and Robbie, he can’t get away from me that easily.

“Becks, s-stop it!” he exclaims, turning away from me. The blanket falls from my lap as I get up on my knees, digging my fingers into his soft belly next.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” I laugh back, sure of my words so I don’t have to go without hearing his wonderful laugh. They dance off his lips and inject my own with happiness. My cheeks hurt as his face crinkles beneath me, my hands venturing to the crook of his neck again.

“‘Kay ‘ve had enough o’ you,” Harry chuckles, suddenly turning to face me. He catches me off guard when his hands grasp my arms and push me onto my back.

His name escapes my lips with surprise as my head hits the back of the sofa. “‘s yer turn now, cuz if I rememba correctly, there’s anotha person in dis room that doesn’t like t’ be tickled,” he smirks above me, his face reddening from exertion.

“No no no no! Please!” I beg, my voice rising in pitch, ending with a giggle. He shakes his head in response, and his actions accompany his words. Loud uncontrollable laughter pours from my lips when his strong fingers stroke my ribs. “Harry!” I laugh, his delighted face blurry as I try to escape his grasp.

Kneeling over me, he clucks his tongue at me. “Not so fun, now ‘s it, li’l one? Ya should listen t’ yer elders, y’know,” he shrugs, a devilish snicker gracing my ears.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re like ten years older than me,” I reply, trying to kick at his stomach with my socked feet. Soon, I regret it when his other hand comes around both of my ankles. He lays a leg over my own to secure them, another snigger leaving his smirking lips that reach the sky.

“Yer really in fer it now, Becks. Ya should be mo’ careful with dat li’l mouth o’ yers,” Harry mutters with a disappointed tsk-tsk. “Wha’s with ya always goin’ on ‘bout me age anyways, hmm? ‘m only three years older than ya, ya dork.”

Dislodging his quiffed curls, his head goes from side to side in disbelief. His fingers run across my sides, then that of my neck, and my belly. I squirm under his touch, but try as I might I’m not getting anywhere. “Stop! Stop!” I almost shout, recoiling from his electric touch.

“Would ya shuddup, yer gonna get us in trouble! Bloody awful ya are, shoutin’ inna hospital,” he tuts, looking down at me with a mixture of disappointment and glee.

His rings are cold on my lips when his hand comes to cover my mouth as I huff loudly. Hints of taco sauce tickles my nose, as well as that vanilla scent that follows him. Giggles flow from his lips and I try to think this isn’t so bad, but his fingers send jolts all over my body with their touch. The look of pure enjoyment and happiness painting his face kind of makes it all worth it. I can’t believe it’s all because of me, I think silently amidst all of the laughter. My heart fills with the sight towering above me, and I can’t recall the last time it felt this close to being full.

“Are ya gonna apologize fer callin’ me old, hmm? Cuz y’know, ya’ll hafta do it ‘bout ten times fer how many times ya’ve called me it,” he instructs as his pointer finger dips into my sensitive neck.

His fingers stay pressed over my mouth as my head whips from side to side. Both in an attempt to buck them off, and in answer to him. The tickling ceases, but only for him to wag a large finger at me. “‘m disappointed in you,” he sighs dramatically before the hand dives back into the flesh of my stomach.

Groaning under him, I try to free my legs, but he continues to pin them down. Although he’s got a good seven inches on me in height, it doesn’t hurt. Somehow he’s always been that gentle giant. My gentle giant. Laughs trickle from my lips faster when his hand leaves my mouth, and both hands attack me.

“Don’t say that!” I argue, but then he tickles faster. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I admit in between storms of laughter forced from my lips.

Suddenly, his fingers stop. Sighing, I try to regain my breathing as his giggling wafts over me. “I couldn’t be disappointed in ya if ya tried, love,” he smiles, curls toppling onto his forehead. “Yer a funny one, Becks.”

My features squish into a pout at him, which only makes him laugh harder. Soon, they fall into a sigh, but I don’t let up.

“You put that pout away, li’l one. Yer not gonna get me with it dis time,” Harry decides aloud, but little does he know.

“You’re the worst,” I whine, with a ‘hmph’ finishing my words.

His eyes widen as his mouth falls slack into an ‘O’. “‘m not, you take dat back right now!” he exclaims, a high-pitched intake of air following.

“Uh-uh,” I shrug stubbornly.

“I don’ rememba bein’ tha one who started tha tickle fest in tha first place, young lady.”

“Hmph,” I hum, my bottom lip sticking out to add to the effect. “Fine, you’re not the worst. But I don’t like being tickled.”

“Coulda guessed dat, love. Neither do I, it feels all weird,” he admits, a smile breaking onto his lips. “C’mere, you, le’s eat these tacos before they grow cold.”

He hooks his hands under my arms, almost like a child, and pulls me up to sit. I don’t relent, and stare back at him pouting. “Would ya stop doin’ that? Makes me all sad,” he whimpers, his features soon falling into a mirror of mine.

Shaking my head, I stay silent. And my arms remain crossed over my chest. He tries and succeeds to lift me and turn me to face the table again, suddenly making me weak in the knees at his strength.

“Fine, you can go first, ya pout. Now stop being sad an’ be me happy Becks ‘gain,” Harry announces with a theatrical sigh, nicking another taco.

The pout soon disappears and a warm excitement colors my face. Grabbing my half-eaten taco, I turn away slightly as I take a bite. My heart fills again as thoughts whir around inside of my head, showing across my body in goosebumps and shakiness. The good kind of shakiness, that from happiness. Him saying I’m his, in a way. His hands all over me, although not in the way I’d prefer, but I can’t be picky. Just, all of it. I never thought this would be happening, let alone seeing him again, after everything that happened.

But as I turn my head to peek a look at him, the sight of his adorably confused face at the tv makes my heart leap inside of my chest.

Surprise, surprise.

The rest of the taco disappears between my lips, and I go to grab another one. But as I do one of my eyes grows hazy, and rubbing it with my knuckle doesn’t help.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” I tell Harry, setting down my taco. “Will you give me seven tiles, and don’t cheat?”

“‘Course,” he smirks before filling his mouth with another bite of his taco. “Ev’rythin’ okay? Yer not still mad at me fer ticklin’ ya?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He nods at my answer before his fingers delve into the black bag, pulling out a small handful of wooden tiles. The sound of the tv he turned on grows farther and farther away. My shoes barely make a sound when I tiptoe into my dad’s room, and escape into the bathroom.

“You better have given me good tiles,” I state, announcing my return.

“Ya get what ya get,” is all he says as he turns his tile rack away from me. I hear the beginnings of more words start on his lips, but then the sound stops.

“What?” I ask, fingering the tiles on my rack as I move it out of his vision.

“I guess ya weren’t lyin’ dat one time when ya said we could be four-eyed friends,” he comments, pulling my attention to his smiling eyes.

“Go ahead, make a comment. They’re dorky, I know. My contacts were bothering me too much, so I took them out.”

“No, they’re not dorky. I quite like ‘em actually, makes me think I should try purple next time I get new ones,” he notes, turning his head back to his tiles. I feel like he thinks he’s hiding it, but I see the curl at the corner of his mouth.

“I think you should too,” I agree lightheartedly. I lift my fingers from the tiles to touch the clear lavender of my glasses. “Do you want to try them on?”

Harry lifts his head to look at me, that amused smile budding on his lips. “Sure,” he answers shortly, but eagerness hints in the background of his words.

He plucks the glasses from my hands and slides them onto his face slowly. Flipping non-existent hair off of his shoulder, he turns to look at me. Bursting out laughing, my hand comes to my mouth as he purses his lips. He makes a pose before trying another and several more.

“What d’ya think, could I rock ‘em?” he asks, adjusting them atop his nose. “Oooo, I look good.” I find myself agreeing with him as I admire the round tortoise shell frames on his face complimented by the lavender. He smiles at his reflection open on his phone’s camera app. Giggling, I watch him inspect his appearance and take a few selfies.

Shaking his head, he presses his eyes shut tightly. “My God tho’, Becks, ya ‘ave sum shit eyes, love. Yer prescription ‘s bloody strong,” he sighs, sliding off the glasses to hand back to me. “It looks like ya can’t gimme a bad time anymo’ since yer fookin’ blind from tha looks o’ it.”

“I am not blind,” I chuckle, pressing my glasses further up my nose again. My choice of tiles fall with a clack onto the game board.

“Sure ya aren’t.”

“Am not,” I argue harmlessly, arranging my tiles from the star down to make a word.

CARED

“Are to, afta tryin’ those headache inducin’ things on.”

“Am not!” I continue, announcing my score and writing it on a piece of scratch paper we found.

“Are to, ya blind bat,” Harry states, dropping a few tiles at a time onto the board. With his large fingers, the tiles shrink in comparison as he wields them. His word builds off of my A, making my word look foolish.

DOORWAY

“I think ‘m already winnin’.”

“Don’t get a big head this soon into the game,” I sigh, jotting down his score after I checked his math.

“What can I say, ‘m jus’ a natural at dis game.” Shaking my head, I cluck my tongue as he rummages around in the bag to replace his tiles.

Words fall onto the board and points rack up between us. Minutes pass by spent with laughs as episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S play in the background. The competitive streaks within us shine brightly with our scores being neck and neck. Our knees knock against each other often, and sometimes they stay touching without either of us really noticing.

Soon, with almost four episodes under our belts, our board is almost filled to the edges. “I dunno, Becks, ya should prolly jus’ give up now. It’d be less embarrassin’ fer ya dat way, love,” Harry insists with a smirk in his voice.

“I’m good, thanks. I’m not giving up yet,” I answer, setting down a few tiles to create a lousy word, but it’s still a word.

FEW

“Heeeey, ya stole me spot!” he whines, to the right of me. Giggling, I add on that to my score.

“I’m sorry.”

“No yer not, ya liar,” he huffs, hiding his chin in his palm. “What ‘m I s’posed t’ do now? I was bettin’ on dat word fer tha last twenty minutes it took ya t’ come up with dat spot.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I leave him to whine and cast my eyes to the tv. Phoebe and Ross sit in the coffee shop as he proudly tells Phoebe he didn’t actually get the annulment like he told Rachel he did. A laugh forms on my lips at Phoebe’s reaction.

“This is why I love her, she’s so hilarious,” I chuckle loudly, playing

with a piece of my hair that reminds me to ask Skye for a haircut. Having not heard a response from Harry, I don’t bother since I assume he’s scoping out his next attack. Then, something tells me to check on him and when I do, I find his eyes on me. “What?” I ask him, quirking an eyebrow in question.

“N-Nothing, ya jus’ gave me an idea fer a word. Her,” he replies, tripping over his words. The pink rising to his cheeks tries to tell me otherwise, but the laughing on the tv pulls my attention away. “But yeah, tha’s why I like her so much. Her funny moments remind me why she’s tha best character on there.”

I nod in response, giggling as Phoebe shoves Rachel into a taxi. It whisks her away, leaving Ross and Phoebe to talk about the annulment more.

“Becky?” a voice says. I look to Harry whose head is just raising, but his eyes aren’t on me. Following his line of sight, they flit to one of my dad’s nurses standing a few feet away.

“Oh hi, Andrea. Is everything okay?” I reply quickly, swallowing. An itchy heat suddenly grows on my back as I wait for her response. Looking for something in her middle-aged face to tell me what she knows comes up dry. I barely register Harry’s hand on the small of my back, drawing circles into the fabric of the hoodie I’ve worn all day.

“Yes, everything is great, actually. I was looking for you and remembered you said you might be here sometimes. Dr. Fisher has decided to discharge your father, since his antibiotics are working and the vomiting is getting better. I’m sorry it’s a little later, but we figured you’d both do good sleeping in your own beds tonight. If you want, you can join us in a minute to go over some paperwork and instructions for at home care,” she smiles, taking away the heaviness that was growing on my shoulders. A sigh whooshes from my lips and I feel Harry squeeze my hand.

“Thank you so much, that sounds great. I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell her, watching her nod before walking away in her forest green scrubs.

“Tha’s great,” Harry says, pulling my attention back to his presence. His lips bend into a small smile, his fingers falling from my hand.

“Yeah,” I echo him, staring at the floor in front of me mindlessly. An unnamed number of seconds pass as I space out, registering the information. Then they cast over to the tiles in front of me, and on the board. “Oh, our Scrabble game. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Oh ‘s fine, love. It was gettin’ too hard, anyways. You jus’ leave it, ‘ll clean everythin’ up. Go be with yer dad,” he hums in his honey-like voice, patting my back once.

Turning my head, my eyes land on him, and find a bittersweet smile lining his lips. Scooping tiles into his hands as he whistles, he keeps his eyes downcast and away from me. Peeks of the black ink I only rarely see, make an appearance from under his sleeves. His movements are slow, calculated, and quiet. Before I can stop myself, I grab his hand to stop him. Pushing it down, I encircle his middle with my arms.

His neck smells like the remnants of a bonfire, smoky with a hint of honey, when my nose brushes against it. The soft baby hairs above his ear tickle my cheek as I dive into him. A startled sound leaves his throat, telling me I caught him off guard. Our height difference leaves me to settle into his shoulder, the ribbony fabric meeting my cheek. Slowly, his hands come around me, and I can tell his long arms aren’t sure where to go. A rare feeling covers me like a blanket when his hands find homes on my back. I feel safe, and the thing I’m about to go and do, feels less important right now compared to being in his arms, and at the same time it feels easy although I know it won’t be. Quickly, my eyes grow damp at the thought and at the meaning of this hug.

Goodbye.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his warm shoulder, feeling choked up. The hints of ink across his flesh tease at the corner of my eye. Closing them, I let the moment engulf me, with the hopes it’ll make it feel longer than it really is.

“Yer welcome,” he answers into the hair above my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.

“No, I mean it, Harry. For yesterday and today. For putting up with me. For the food. For coming. For-,” I begin, trying to transform my thoughts into tangible words. They stop when his shoulder leaves my cheek, and looking up, I find his face coming into view.

“I know, ‘kay?” he interrupts, his murky green eyes reminding me how easily I could get lost in them. And how much I’d really like that.

“You don’t, Harry.”

“Hush, you. I do know,” he insists, pressing a finger with chipped black nail polish to my lips. “An’ I know ya woulda done the same fer me, Becks.”

My head goes up and down, having lost the ability to speak. Because this man has a hold on me like he wouldn’t believe, and like I hardly do sometimes. And I want more than anything right now to step over that invisible line between us, and press a kiss to that finger.

“We’ll make up fer it with anotha game soon, ‘kay?” he suggests, pulling another nod from me. His cheeks grow taller as his lips lift, the dimples falling into them. “Go home an’ get sum rest, inna proper bed.”

Our laughs fall together easily, brushing his finger away. His arms call for me to return to them, but I know in that moment that I wouldn’t be able to leave them if I did that.

“Drive safe, li’l one,” Harry mumbles, squeezing my arm. Standing, I pick up my blanket and pocket my phone.

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.”

“G’night, Becks,” he smiles, but this time the dimples aren’t there anymore.

As I walk away, something pulls in my chest to look back. When I do, he’s resting his head on his fist, staring at the tiles he dumps into the bag. That same song floating from his lips into the air, one that’s still a mystery to me.

When I arrive at my dad’s room, I can’t stop wondering why I didn’t stay and kiss him until the dimples fell back into his cheeks.

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years

Text

Fair Winds and a Following Sky - Part 12

Nowhere Oklahoma, One and One Half Years Ago

It was a dry winter, or so he’d been told. Dry, he supposed, meant mild; as the weather was more like autumn or spring in his estimation, than a true winter. He’d never spent a winter in the Southern United States before, but he knew that the winter there paled in comparison to the dark, Swedish winters he was accustomed to.

Which was why he never once complained about working in the barn, why he never once balked at mucking out the stables or feeding the horses, or even putting the great beasts through their daily winter paces. There wasn’t much he could have done construction wise around the ranch. Most of it - the barn, the porch decking, the siding, the garage door - was done, anyway.

His work there was essentially complete. And yet, for numerous reasons, he stayed.

It was six in the evening, an hour after sunset. The sky was a grayish haze yet - the day was over, but it was not quite night. He, as he was every night for the past few months, was in the stable. It was warm there, heated by the hay and the horses; and he enjoyed the sounds of the breeze through the corridor, the whisper of the straw, and the whickering of horses.

He had just finished brushing Condor’s Flight, one of Anna’s prized racehorses, when he heard tires in the driveway followed by the slam of a single car door. It didn’t sound at all like Anna’s Chevy. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the distinct sound of a newer model BMW, which, from his knowledge of the local trucks, SUVs, and beaters with heaters, was quite odd.

He dipped his hands into a trough of warm water, wiped them with the towel that hung from the tack post, pushed the man door open and stepped onto the edge of the pathway. In the beam of a pair of bluish headlights, he saw the shape of a woman - shorter, stockier, thickly dressed - definitely not Anna.

The woman called out. “Boy! Come here.” She gestured wildly in the air with one hand, beckoning him to her as she took quick, shuffling steps toward him. In spite of her demands, he remained in place, his hands on his hips. “I said, come here boy.”

“I’m sorry, madam,” he replied, “I tend not to answer to ‘boy.”

“Ooh,” she sang, “a proud one, huh? Well,” she stepped forward, pulled off one of her gloves and held her hand out to him. “Let me try this again, hm? I’m Bessie Travidge. Folks call me ‘Mama.’ Supposing you can too, call me Mama.”

He sighed behind a tight-lipped smile. “A pleasure, Mrs. Travidge,” he shook her hand, his grip tight and firm. “I’m Alan Easterberg.”

“You’re the help,” she perked. “I know all about you, boy.”

He curled his lip and sneered. “Madam....”

“Sorry, sorry,” she held her hands up. “Don’t mean to insult y’all.”

He grinned, showing his teeth in an irritated rictus. “How may I help you, Mrs. Travidge?”

“Oh, do call me Mama, will y’all?”

“How may I help you... Mama?” he repeated, the name dripping like venom from his lips. “Anna isn’t home right now. She’ll be returning shortly if you’d like to wait inside.”

“Oh no,” her eyes widened. “I ain’t here to see Fair Sky.”

He cocked his head. “Then why are you here?”

“To talk to you, for sure.”

He blinked. “Me? What could you possibly want with me?”

She peered at him, then, her aspect morphing from one of blithe friendliness to a hard, stern facade. “I’m here to talk to you about your leavin’ this place. Quick like.”

“I assure you I have no intention of leaving, not yet at least,” he replied cooly.

“Don’t matter your intention, boy....”

“Don’t call me boy....”

“Mm hmm,” she guffawed sardonically. “Don’t matter much your intention, sir,” she emphasized. “You’re leaving and quick like.”

“I assume, madam, that there is an ‘or else’ hanging at the end of that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest - mainly in an attempt to show dominance, but truthfully in an attempt to hide the damnable shaking of his hands. He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes, also a show of strength mixed with the desire to conceal the fear swimming in the blue. “And that ‘or else’ is?”

“Or else I tell them where you are.”

“Tell them where I am,” he repeated slowly, as if trying to decipher the ramblings of a maddened child. “Tell whom?”

She chuckled, lifted one hand, and with the other, she ticked off her fingers. “Well, the police for starters, then the CIA, FBI, Interpol, and some fellas from the Swedish Secret Service what came round to my office last week.”

His heart was a caged lion. It pulsed and strained and pounded against his chest. His mind went cold and he seemed to have lost his stomach altogether. Yet, he fought hard not to show any of his discomfiture. Fought to keep his mask firmly in place, but time and emotional trauma and lack of practice made it fragile, paper thin, full of deep fissures. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said clearly. “There’s no reason any of those people would be looking for me.”

“Because you’re just a carpenter, ain’t that right?”

“That is correct,” he averred. “I think you must have me confused with someone else.”

“Does the name Rufus Valentine ring any bells with you?”

Crack.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his jaw from clenching, his eyes from watering. “No,” he lied.

“How about Isak Pettersen?”

Crack.

He blinked. “No.”

“Ansgar Martinsson?”

Jesus Christ, he thought. She knows. She fucking knows.

“I’m afraid I have no idea who that is.”

“Well,” she smiled, serpent-like. She paced in front of him, back and forth over the short width of the gravel walkway. “He is a very important fella, he is. The CEO of some big international company, got his sticky fingers in projects in just about every country on this planet.”

“What does that have to ---”

“Quiet now, boy,” she barked. “Just hush yourself for a spell and listen to me.”

His nose flared and his eyes hardened, but he stayed, he listened. There was nowhere for him to go, regardless. “Go on.”

“Turns out,” she continued, “he up and disappeared ‘bout a year or so ago. Left New York City one morning, and ain’t been heard of since. Folks have been looking up and down for him, and nothin.’ They want him back, you see. Guess he’s, how’d they say it? He’s vital to ongoing government operations or something like that. What’s more he’s wanted for assault, they say. Somethin’ about tearing up some bar in Pennsylvania and threatening this Valentine fella with a gun. Should I go on?”

He remained silent.

“See, and they’re gettin’ real close to finding him, they say. He was good, real talented at slippin’ away, at hiding. Didn’t leave much of a trail. But the FBI, they’re dang good at what they do too.”

Shatter.

“Apparently they are,” he said. He knew full well that to say as such constituted an uncontrovertable admission. He sighed and fluttered his eyes with deep-seated annoyance. “So, what do you want?”

“Told y’all. I want you gone,” she demanded. “Pack up your shit, get in that rust bucket Bronco of yours and high tail it out of here. And don’t come back.”

“Why don’t you just turn me in? Just tell them who I am and where I am?”

“’Cause I don’t want no trouble.”

He cocked his head, squinting. “For Anna?”

“No, for my family. I don’t give a rat’s ass about that injun bitch,” she spat. “I don’t want the Travidge name dragged through whatever mud you’ve been wallowing in. If they ask me, I’ll deny ever knowing what I know or ever seeing y’all. I’ll deny we had this conversation, but you gotta skedaddle. Now.”

He nodded slowly, understanding. “What if I refuse?”

“My boys are out by the car,” she indicated with a lift of her chin. “Brian’s been itchin’ to have at y’all again after the beatin’ you gave him this summer. He ain’t drunk now, and that’s all I’ll say about that.”

“And if I don’t leave, how will you turn me in without, as you say, dragging your family through the mud?”

“The FBI loves an anonymous tip, don’t it?” She tapped the side of her nose and winked. “Easy as pie.”

He licked his lips. “I see. What about Anna?”

“What about her?”

He closed his eyes in thought. The last thing he wanted was for this woman... this Mama... to know that he and Anna had been intimate, that they’d forged some semblance of a relationship, that maybe, just maybe, he was falling for her. “Nothing,” he clipped, shaking his head. “Nothing at all.”

“So I guess you’ve got a choice don’t y’all? You can either leave, disappear again, and get home to Sweden on your own terms -- when you want, how you want -- or you can go by force, in custody, and under the watchful eye of the press. Your choice, Bucko.”

And later that night, he made his choice. And because of that choice he loathed himself even more, if that were possible. Like Faye, he packed his bag, tossed it in the back of his car, and left. Left in the night. Left without discussion. Left without saying goodbye. He vanished from Anna’s home, her bed, and her life.

But unlike Faye, at least he’d left a note.

He wondered, as he turned his Bronco toward the Eastbound Highway 40 on-ramp, whether Faye had hurt as much, or had cried as hard as he did when she left him.

#fair winds and a following sky

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