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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

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Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Todays story was requested by @itspdameronthings. Thank you so much for the request and I really hope you like it. This is the longest of all the stories I have written for the November Writing Challenge.

November Writing Challenge Masterlist

Day 13: Water Flowed- Llewyn Davis

Day 1

“Do you have to go?” Your voice is quiet as you watch him pack his bags from your seat on the bed.

“Querida, you know I don’t want to but they are asking me back as a favor AND I’m being compensated. I worked in Columbia for three years, it's where my mother was born. I feel like I need to do this,” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his own. “It’s only four months and I promise I will call and text you every single day. It’s killing me to leave you but...I feel I have to do this.”

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was a former member of Delta Force in the US Military before leaving to go work for the DEA in Columbia. Three years ago, he left Columbia to return home but not without one final mission. He got together a few of his old buddies from the force and robbed a drug lord before killing him and fleeing the country. But something went wrong. Well… a lot of shit went wrong, resulting in the death of his old captain, Tom, and forcing them to leave millions of dollars off the side of a cliff buried in the snow.

Santiago had accepted a temporary assignment with the DEA to return back to Columbia and train some new recruits. You were not one bit okay with this plan but the one thing you loved and also kind of hated about your husband was how headstrong he could be. Unfortunately, you are just as stubborn as him. The last few weeks leading up to his departure had been fraught with arguments. You didn’t want him to go. Even though it had been years since that last mission, you didn’t know what the situation down there was. Were they still hunting for the men who had robbed and gunned down Lorea? Was he walking into a trap? No money was worth losing the man you loved, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

“You don’t have to do anything.” The words are bitter on your tongue and Santiago winces, before moving to stand. “We don’t need that money, and you have no idea what you walking into baby…”

“Y/N, we have talked about this enough. I am going!” He slams the top of his suitcase closed before pulling the zipper harshly and walking towards the door. He turns sharply at the door pointing at you, “Why do you keep arguing with me about this? I have told you a million reasons why I need to do this! Instead of supporting me you're just fighting with me!”

“I do support yo-”

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” he swings his backpack on his back, puts on his hat and walks out the door. You’re on your feet in a hurry. “Goddamnit, Santiago! Will you just fucking listen to me for two minutes?” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. He’s fuming and you can tell the volcano is seconds away from blowing. “I DO support you! I understand WHY you feel the need to do this but I LOVE YOU and I don’t want to LOSE YOU!”

You're out of breath from shouting, and you see the anger slowly fade from his face as he comes to stand closer to you, “Querida...baby you're not going to lose me. I love you….so … damn … much. I never really felt alive until I met you, and no one,” he puts a finger under your chin and raises your eyes to his own, “no one is going to take me away from you.”

“You can’t promise that…” Your words come out broken and a choked sob escapes you. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Santi I can’t lose you. I won’t survive without you…”

“Shhh.” He pulls you close and you collapse in a sobbing heap into his chest, your tears soaking the front of his t-shirt, his hands are strong as he holds you close. “I know nothing is one hundred percent but I love you and I am going to come home back to you. Nothing could ever keep me away.” He pulls you away from his chest, wiping your eyes before kissing you gently.

“I love you too Santi, so much.” You sigh into the kiss and hold him tight before he pulls away, walking towards the door, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and walking out, taking your heart with him.

Day 31

Santiago kept good on his promise and called and texted every single day, each time letting you know he was safe and how much he loved you. He was working hard down there, and he loved the adventure, even if he missed you like crazy. You missed him too and the combination of being without your husband, taking care of the whole house, your shared basset hound, and work was draining. It was only a matter of time before you started feeling under the weather. You had been feeling fatigued, sore throat, cough, and after two days of vomiting throughout the day you had to admit it, you were sick.

On your nightly call with Santi the worry in his voice warmed your heart. “Baby, you need to go to the doctor and get checked. Remember when you got bronchitis last year? It was pretty bad.”

You hack into the receiver “Yeah, maybe you're right. I just feel like shit Nauseous all day long. Jonathon actually sent me home today. Said he was worried about me ‘infecting’ the office.”

Santi mutters under his breath but you hear him and snort. “Yeah I agree he is a dick, but I appreciate being sent home. I’ll go to the urgent care tomorrow.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. I want to feel better...I just hate going to the doctor.” You recall the many times Santi had to drag you kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) to the doctor.

“Why don’t you ask one of the guys to go with you?”

“Maybe...Frankie mentioned he was off tomorrow when I called him yesterday....”

“See. It was meant to be. Why don’t you text him after you hang up with me and he will make sure you go? Then I can rest easy tonight knowing you’re ok. I wish it were me though. I would take such good care of you baby.”

“Oh yeah?” What would you do if you were here?” You snuggle down into the comforter with your box of tissues, hot tea, the humidifier and his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep.

It doesn’t take long before your soft snores fill the phone and Santi smiles to himself. Listening to the sounds of his love finally feeling at rest. When you wake up three hours later to throw up the light from your phone signifies a message.

I called Frankie, he’s going to come by at 10 o’clock to take you for an appointment. I booked it online through the app. Get some rest and drink lots of fluids. I love you. - Hubby

You smile before brushing your teeth and crawling back into the warmth of your bed and falling back to sleep, dreaming of your husband.

Day 32

The next morning Frankie rings the doorbell at exactly 9:45.Like all the other Delta Force guys (except Benny), they are meticulously early. You greet him with a cup of coffee with his own special airplane shaped mug, complete with his name engraved on the side. You knew that when you married Santiago, Frankie came as part of the package.

“Hi Garcia, how ya feeling?” He wraps one arm around your shoulder and you lean into the embrace, placing your head on his arm.

“To be completely honest Cat? I feel like shit.”

Frankie lets out a small laugh before rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Well then let’s get you to the doctor. You got your insurance card?”

“Yeah it’s in my bag.” You grab your brown knit bag, swinging it over your shoulder.

“Then let’s get going.” He guides you out to his truck, helping you into the seat before running around the front to the driver's seat.

About twenty minutes later you're pulling into the parking lot of your doctor. Frankie walks you inside helping you get signed in. It's another thirty minutes before you're put back into a room, sitting on crinkled tissue paper, Frankie reading back issues of People. The door opens and you sit up a little straighter.

“Mrs. Garcia?” You nod. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. What can I help you with today?”

You proceed to tell her what’s been going on and she goes through the motions, asking you all about your symptoms, checking your ears, nose, throat, and chest. When she's done she types everything into her tablet, “one more question, when was your last menstrual cycle?”

You open your mouth to answer before closing it slowly. “When was my last...Oh. Uhm,” you laugh nervously at a loss for words, “about a month ago it should be starting any day now…”

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks, looking between you and Frankie.

“Oh, he’s not my husband!”

“I’m her husband's best friend. He’s out of the country.”

“Well it sounds like you may have the flu but I would like to run some labs as well if that’s alright with you, and maybe a pregnancy test just to be sure?”

You laugh. “Sure doc whatever you need, but I am not pregnant.”

Day 35

You swing your car haphazardly into the driveway narrowly missing a planter box and running over Mia’s pink bike. The front door slams open. Frankie is running down the driveway, yanking the car door open and pulling you into his arms. Your sobs are staining your cheeks and you're a blubbering mess.

“Garcia! What the hell! Are you ok!?” Frankie checks you over. You shake your head frantically.

“NO! No I am not ok!” you shout! “The test results came back!”

“Oh god, is it bad!? Cancer? Diabetes? Fuck! Did Pope give you some kind of STD because I swear I will kick his ass for you!”

“NO! God...no...I'm...Pregnant!” You break down in sobs and hold onto Frankie who starts to laugh. “Stop laughing! This is serious! Frankie!!”

He chuckles squeezing you tighter, “Garcia this is wonderful! You're gonna be a mom and Santiago is going to be a daddy! Mia will have someone to play with. Fuck, I’m so happy for you guys.” You pull away to see a huge smile on his face.

Some of his excitement rubs off on you and you rub your nose on the sleeve of your shirt before you smile, “I’m gonna be a mommy…oh shit Frankie what do I tell Santi?

“We will worry about that later. But right now let’s get you home and back to bed. You still have that cough and you need your rest.”

Day 36

“Hey baby. How is my favorite man?”

“Oh Querida I miss you so much. I think I forgot how much I love being out in the field. The rush, the thrill. It’s addicting.”

Your heart drops and for a minute you say nothing. How the hell could you tell him about the baby? He would want to come straight home and he’s loving the work.

“Everything is great here. Yeah, I got the test results yesterday from the lab and everything is normal. I just have the flu and since I’ve been off the last few days I’ve rested and drank lots of fluids and I am feeling much better.”

“Oh good, I was so worried about you.” He sighs. “I got a new app on my phone that counts down to the second till I get to be back with you.. I love you so much Querida.”

You bite your lip to keep from crying before letting out a shaky breath, “I love you too baby, and I can’t wait to see you soon.”

The conversation shifts and when you hang up with your husband you shoot a quick text off to Frankie.

Don’t mention ANYTHING about the pregnancy to Santiago. I’ll tell him when he gets home.

What? Why?

He loves being there and if we're going to have a baby then he's not going to be able to do this again. If I tell him you know he will just come home early.

Ok...I still think you should tell him. You're going to need support though...he’s still going to be gone for three more months.

Your right...Frankie...will you be my person?

... of course. Get some sleep Garcia.

Day 100

Four months doesn’t seem like a long time. But when you're pregnant and missing your husband it seems like a lifetime. It had been one hundred days since Santi had left for South America and only twenty-two more days till he came home. When you did the math in your head you had become pregnant two weeks before Santi had left. Meaning you were well on your way to being a very noticeable pregnant woman.

You had been shopping a couple times with Benny to Motherhood Maternity store to get some bigger clothes because yours refused to fit. Also a very interesting trip to Babies-R-Us where after much convincing he did not purchase the entire store for his future niece/nephew. Will had been attending your doctor and lab appointments with you. And sweet Frankie had been helping you around the house, getting groceries when you were too tired, keeping up the yard, and taking you and your dogs for walks to keep you moving. Your husband’s brothers had become your own, and you loved them for it. Only 22 more days.

Day 120

You're sitting at the kitchen table doing a puzzle with Will when Frankie comes in carrying takeout and a squirming Mia. He puts her down and she rushes toward you.

“TIA GARCIA!” she screams, launching herself into your arms.

“MIA!” you shout, squeezing her tightly before tickling her sides. She giggles before shimmying out of your lap and running to the kitchen. Coming back a moment later carefully balancing (at least as careful as a three year old can) a plate filled with watermelon to you.

“Papa says this is for the baby,” she tells you in what could be called an attempted whisper but more like a shout.

“Why are you whispering Mia?”

“Papa says that I have guts to be quiet because the baby is sleeping.” She leans forward and hugs your slightly protruding belly before climbing into the kitchen chair across from you.

You give Frankie an amused look and he smiles with a shrug before plating out the food. Pizza for them and watermelon for you. It’s all you seem to want anymore. “Oh come to mama.” You spear a piece before placing it in your mouth, moaning as the cold sweet juice goes down your throat.

“So I’m taking you to the airport on Friday to pick up Santiago. Any ideas on how you're going to tell him?” Frankie asks, taking a large bite of pizza.

“Well I think he’s going to know.” You gesture to your stomach, spearing another piece of melon.

“I’ve been looking up ideas on how to tell people you're pregnant, and you could give him a jar of pasta sauce,” Will says and you all look at him like he’s nuts, “No, hear me out it’s Prego pasta sauce...get it, Prego?”

You groan before taking another bite, “I think he’s going to notice I’m pregnant before I can even give him a jar of pasta sauce Will.”

“Not if he doesn’t see your stomach first…” Frankie says, “what if you made a sign?”

“A sign?”

“Yeah like when we used to come home from a tour and the families would have signs. You could make a sign!”

You think about it for a minute before you fall in love with the idea. You go to the office and come back with a couple poster boards you kept for work presentations. You place one in front of Mia who squeals and grabs one of the markers you provide. You get to work outlining the words and filling them in with his favorite colors blue and red. When completed, you lift it up and show it to the others.

“That’s perfect!” Frankie beams.

“Bet you 50 bucks he cries,” Will says.

“Deal,” they slap hands and you glare, before smiling at the two. Only two more days.

Day 122 - Santiago Comes Home

You feel sick, what if he doesn’t want to have a baby? Will he be mad I kept this from him? Shit, maybe this was a terrible idea. What the hell was I thinking?

“Garcia, you need to calm down, you're making me stressed.”

“What if he doesn’t want this? What if he is disappointed? What if-” Frankie stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Garcia listened to me. Santiago loves you more than anything in this entire world and he is going to love this baby just as much maybe even more. He may be surprised yeah but trust me. Once he wraps his brain around it, he’s going to be ecstatic.” He pulls you in for a hug and you take a deep breath, calming your nerves.

The constant flow of travelers does nothing to lessen your anxiety. You take a deep breath and almost choke on the smell of espresso from the nearby Starbucks. Frankie gives you one last squeeze before handing you the sign and stepping back as people flood out of the gate.

You rise to your tiptoes in search for a familiar head of salt and pepper curls. When in a break of the crowd you see him, running in a full sprint towards you. His face split into a megawatt smile. As he gets close enough to touch, you hold up the sign. He slows down slightly as he reads and you watch the smile fade only slightly before it’s replaced by shock.

Welcome home daddy

He reaches forward, holding tight to the poster board and slowly lowering it, eyes transfixed at your swollen belly. Silence. His hands shake as they put the sign on the floor, his eyes never leaving you. Your heart races and you feel the urge to vomit return again before he drops to his knees.

You wince, “Baby, your knees…” reaching down to pull him up, but he makes no move to stand, his hands coming to your stomach. Placing his lips gently over your shirt. His forehead rests against you and tears drench your shirt. The baby chooses that moment to make their presence known kicking softly against his cheek. You run your hands through his curls and he looks up at you with a watery smile and a small laugh.

“Querida, you’re pregnant. We’re...we’re having a baby…” he sniffles and you can’t help the tears in your own eyes. “Why...why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home…”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. You’ve been so happy these past few months and I knew you needed to do this. Yes, I was scared as hell about losing you but...I understood.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers before shakily getting to his feet and clutching you tight, his hands frame your face and he pulls you close getting lost in the kiss, “I love you...so fucking much,” he whispers putting his forehead against your own. “I love you too. I’m so glad your home… I mean the guys have been great but I’m excited to go shopping for baby stuff with you, attend my doctor appointments together, and have you bring me platefuls of watermelon.”

He laughs pulling back, “Watermelon? Is that what you’ve been craving?”

“Oh god yes, even talking about it makes my mouth water.”

“If that is what you want Querida, then you can have as much as you desire,” he kisses you again.

A cough sounds from behind and you turn to see Frankie smiling at you. Santi reaches out to give him a slap on the back, the two conversing in Spanish. You hold your hand out and Santi latches on, never letting go as you make your way through the terminal and out to the truck.

The world passes by in a kaleidoscope of color as Frankie drives you both home. Arriving, you thank him before leading Santi by the hand and into the house. When the door is latched behind you, he presses you into the door gently. Every touch, every caress, left you breathless. His lips warm and wet against your own. When you take a breath his tongue snakes inside and he drags you from the door, striping each other, leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom.

After you’ve been thoroughly fucked and your wrapped up in Santiago’s strong arms, legs intertwined together, and he’s rubbing your belly do you finally relax. Sighing into his chest, and kissing it lightly. “Your really happy about the baby?” you whisper, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

His grip around you tightens, “I promise you, I am very happy about the baby. You made me a daddy Querida. I love you...so much.”

You sigh, “I love you too.”

3 months later

Eight months of pregnancy has flown by. After Santi got home from Columbia he took over doing everything. Attending your appointments together, buying and building things for the nursery, and bringing you platefuls of watermelon at all times of the day and night. Santiago takes the roll of daddy very seriously. All of those year in the military have come into play the last few months as he has transformed your house into a fortress. God help anyone that tries to hurt you or your unborn daughter.

It started small with a few extra cameras on the perimeter, then installing a new indoor security system. A new fence was put up around the pool two months ago, and most recently the baby monitors set up throughout the house. He was beginning to drive you a little insane and you honestly just wanted him to lay off a bit. The perfect opportunity arose one fateful morning during breakfast.

“So I’ve been thinking Querida, how do you feel about putting carpet on the floor of the nursery?”

Part 2: Carpet (If you haven’t read it, check it out!)

Day 15: Just Walk Away- Ezra (Prospect)

#November writing challenge #Day 14 #Triple Frontier #Oscar Isaac #Pedro Pascal #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Garcia x reader #fanfiction #my writing

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neocityfics · 4 years

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2096: Zodiac

Chapter: Intro < ❝ Prologue ❞ > Chapter One

➥ Chapter List

Genre: Cyberpunk inspired, mafia-esque, not-so dystopian, angst

Pairing: Doctor! Taeyong x Reader [Sprinkle of other pairings tbd]

Summary: 2094, the disaster happens. The richest become richer with their reddened backs turned, the people around you growing more and more tired, and a certain Dr. Lee plans to change it all. Lucas unknowingly pulls you into the frenzy, and you become part of this confusing and painful process. You catch yourself floating between the conflict of twelve gangs and a world where circuits begin replacing flesh.

Warnings: Moderate cursing, death, heavy events similar to real world situations

A/N: Throughout the writing, there’ll be links (indicated by ▶ Ambience) for a more immersive experience. These are YouTube links, so it may be difficult to switch between YouTube and Tumblr (especially for those unable to have video pop-outs on mobile), so please keep this in mind. I’m also working on a Spotify playlist. I really hope you enjoy my first published piece!

▶ Ambience

The sea of neon purples, pinks, and blues drowned out whatever background activity filled the hustling life of the city. Light harshly touches the exterior of small shops endlessly lining the streets. Though full of living people, it always seemed a bit lonely. Everyone for themselves as it had been before the disaster happened, before life became even harder and resources scarce. Half the world is gone, but for whatever reason, humans continue to persevere. This strength is a unique feat, but it comes with consequences. With the remaining 3 billion people left on Earth, only the Eurasian continent remains the only habitable land thus forcing people to squeeze in tightly. It’s like this everywhere-- tiny housing, famines, and the overgrowing hunger to hold power and wealth much as we did before. The rich stay rich, the poor stay poor.

Life’s tough in Neostone. With hundreds of thousands of people and little food, restaurants struggle to keep open with enough to sell. Fresh water sources and land were replaced with tall housing structures and corporate buildings. Most have to work two or more jobs. Education is non-existent and relies on parents teaching kids different skills through child labor. Further industrialization in the little space the planet has left led to bouts of acid rain from overworked factories. The world’s leaders morph into the same guise: ties stained with blood, suits the product of cheap labor showed off status, and their white-gloved hands tightly gripped heavy silver suitcases. Corruption still plagues the broken systems that hang over society, sustained from before the disaster happened. It seems like we’ll never learn.

Sure, it’s difficult to get by day to day without much, yet the communities outside the wealthy rich businesses were tight-knit. Everyone knows each other’s names. People often trade food scraps for little luxuries to feel any ounce of happiness. Friends hang out near street food vendors where most people are, begging for any kind of calorie. While life in Neostone is tough, the citizens depend on each other for care, not anyone from above.

I don’t think of it much-- how different life would be if the disaster didn’t happen, if the world had never been touched by so much chaos. I knew it’d be the same, that I’d end up still struggling to get from morning to morning. Even with the big drop in population, we live as sardines squished together under a layer of plastic that suffocates us. Nothing has changed. I lost everything.

Though the neons felt like home and they were all I’ve known for the past couple of years, I do remember who I was before this all went downhill. Fresh in college with a mind set on (major(s)/minor(s)), and although uncertain of the future, I was ready to break free from family and understand what it means to live a good life. Debt would hit me hard on my head but I was certain to find ways to pay it off without burdening others. Between jobs and school, I felt like there was a purpose for my movement, for my existence, to be a small gear of a clockwork world. For three years, I managed to get stuff done and become my own separate identity. I never felt more myself for the longest time. One more year to go, I said to myself as my third year comes to a close. But fourth year never came. It happened. The start of summer into my last year in college was the best time I’ve had in my life. During an internship in Japan, I’d gotten a handle of how it was in the real world as part of the workforce. A month into the most enjoyable moments of my life came the disaster.

▶ Ambience, Ambience

I watched the television screens throughout the subway, making my way to my 9am train when the static and distortions of color accompanied the shaking ground beneath me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as the news shifted to an emergency alert. All of a sudden, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, building collapses, and tsunamis were destroying the western hemisphere. The disaster was inexplicable, the most spontaneous event in the history of Earth. I hid in the nearest shelter in Tokyo as realization hit how horrifying everything was. Buildings toppling left and right, people being crushed beneath the debris, splatters of fresh red on the broken bits of glass and metal heaps. That was a day of absolute terror. Within twenty-four hours, half the world was gone. My heart sank as the disasters settled throughout the world, and the news focused on the western hemisphere where I had lived most of my life. That part of the world was gone. My family and college friends were gone.

And I was left alone in Japan.

But the world didn’t change. The same evil corporate heads enforced the same evil policies and practices. The same tired faces dragged their tired bodies until no end just to, at the bare minimum, survive. No matter what form the world took, this was our fate until we went extinct. The only thing that changed perhaps was how many of us were kept in that system, and that the system favoring the wealthy became stronger. So the cycle continues.

▶ Ambience

With the scraps of money I had left on my name and picking up little jobs, I was able to get into a micro apartment. The government was eager to take advantage of the situation and make just enough housing to keep people happy and off the streets, but also enough to ensure some people couldn’t get out of the vicious system so labor was cheap. My space is dingy at best and quite small, but it’s all the comfort I have. Not a day passes where I’m not grateful for a private place to sleep, do business, and let myself feel at ease. Others aren’t so lucky, sleeping behind their food and merchandise stalls or in the nooks and crannies of back alleys. Weeks passed into months where my body ached from overwork, the same for the people I’ve been surrounded with and worked alongside. It’s only been two years since everyone had to rebuild what’s been lost, but it looked only slightly different in Neostone where Tokyo had once been. Only the mega cities were somewhat unscathed by the disaster, and businesses collectively chipped in to remodel them. Rural and suburban areas were either flooded or full of toxic waste.

People from all races and backgrounds who survived into the aftermath of the disaster poured into the cities. I was kindly taken into the dangerous but welcoming community of downtown Neostone, where cooking and selling food in addition to helping at clinic became my new life. At the clinic, I met someone I familiarized myself with to be comfortable and close enough. Having someone around lifted up my motivation. Going by Lucas, a name he adopted to fit in with the rest of downtown Neostone, he worked assiduously the same shifts as me at Pearl Park Clinic. Besides weekends, Lucas and I leave for work together as he lives just a few rooms down in the complex. While working at the clinic down on East Row, he comes to visit for a bite at the street food stall that keeps me busy half the week. Throughout getting to know him within two years, he revealed he also lost family he was close with-- a younger brother and sister who by the sound of his stories were needy brats that he loved so much. It hurts to know they’re gone like my friends are. I was glad I could relate to him and also be someone to lean on. On a roller-coaster of life’s tests, Lucas and I know we have each other’s back.

▶ Ambience

Today was like most days, another Friday morning. The green flash of LED at 7:00am with a loud beeping, a quick splash of cold water against my face, clean clothes, and a quick bite of fruit. The same mindless routine guides me out of the door of the room and down the hall. From my room, 716, to Lucas’s room, 718, was only a few meters away thanks to the tiny size of rooms. I knock once, twice, then thrice, but no reply. Strange. I’m used to Lucas whipping the door wide open at the slightest sound of my footsteps to poke his head out and greet me loudly. Should I knock again? Call him? My hand gravitated towards the doorknob, uncertain if we’re on the kind of terms where I can barge in whenever. “Lucas,” I decide to start softly, “I’m here now, we can leave for the clinic.” No reply. Maybe I’ll text him. Unlocking my phone, a smile cracked on my face as a photo of Lucas and I hanging out with some other friends posed in front of our favorite ice cream shop flashed across the screen. No red numbered badge on the messaging app. Today feels a little bit unusual. Typically, he texts when he needs help or won’t be at work. Inhaling in, I choose to try the knob in which a turn and a push of the door unveils the dark, musky room. A room with no Lucas. Noticing the tension in my face and shoulders, I relax them and try not to think of anything bad that could happen to him. Maybe he needed to stop somewhere before going to work. Maybe he’s just out to get groceries and whatnot. Maybe he’s just busy doing something else. I trust he’ll get back to me soon, but the weird pit in my stomach bugged my thoughts.

Down the long winding halls, unlocking my phone seemed all I could do, the worry taking over. My pace quickened. It’s 8:00am, the clinic starts up at 9:00am. It’s a long walk through a rather sketchy part of downtown, but it's one I’ve mastered throughout the couple of years and certainly made friends in. Reaching the staircase, my breath was noticeably shallower. This was always the worst part. It took much time and energy just to get to the first floor. Upon stepping into the lobby, I swiftly pick up an umbrella from the community box set near the entrance and begin my path out. The clerk at the counter peaks over his rather raunchy motorcycle magazine, riddled with messy yellow text, and he subtly waves at me. I send the gesture back, taking my leave from the complex. Rain besets Neostone often, the overcast weather permitting low fog and grey clouds to lurk the bubble that is downtown. Chatter and noise blend together from all sides with the rushing waters eagerly greeting storm drains and early risers setting up their stores. In comparison to the staircase, the lengthy walk to the clinic is always a breeze, and it helps calm the nerves as I ready myself for a busier pace of day. Every five minutes, I unlocked my phone again to see if Lucas had contacted me. Still no sign of him.

▶ Ambience

After what seems like the longest walk of my life, some staff of the community medical clinic greet me and provide a list of my duties right away. 9:00am right on the dot. I take in what needs to get done, reading off the slightly crumpled paper between my fingers. Towel laundry… Disinfect beds in the North Wing… Prepare a warm epsom salt bath for patients in the East Wing… Always busy on Fridays when the work week is over and people live out their less-than-safe life decisions. Less work, more injuries, and more patients. A voice sharply interrupts, “Hey! Where’s Lucas? You two always arrive here together.” My heart sank. So he isn’t at work. Where could that man possibly be?

Tension grows but a sigh leaves my chest as I formulate some sort of response to the nurse, “He might be sick, I’m not sure where he went. Usually he tells me, but I’m sure he has his reasons.” The lady nodded and clicked her tongue as if irritated. A pause before I ask her, “Why, are we short-staffed today?” She gives a vexed nod again, taking her leave as another staff member urges her towards a patient. Stupid question. We always are understaffed. Located on the intersection of Bear Walk and Oak Lane as suspension railways weave between buildings, Pearl Park Medical Clinic threw itself into one of downtown’s busiest and most dangerous areas. Crimes being committed everyday that send people into the clinic, drunkards finding their way through the doors to spew anger uncalled for against the staff, and the homeless just asking for a pillow or blanket while they sleep outside as they’re reminded of the cold, hard pavement soaked with rain. Of course, we must treat everyone’s needs… and wants in some cases. Only a couple dozen of us work the two-floored piece of the tall establishment which also houses struggling law firms, compact grocery stores, beauty salons, and wireless carriers. This place is a mini mall, but not for the faint-of-heart mall goers. Murder, sabotage, and sickness run rampant. However, it’s the place Lucas and I call home. From Tuesday to Friday, from 9:00am to 8:00pm, my hands pruned from washing equipment and fabric constantly, legs moved to and from wing to wing to prepare stations, mind boggled by the surprising sights of Neostone’s everyday life. The dirty white walls, gowns, and noise make me feel rejuvenation each time I clock in for shifts. Home. A place of belonging. Everyone accepted me in, even as a seemingly insignificant part of the operation. For Lucas, he tells me so often as if I forget easily, it’s a dream come half true.

Lucas aspired to be a doctor. It was his lifelong desire to help others, fascinated by how many times the human body tested the limits and broke them, and how he could save someone’s life. That was his purpose. Unfortunately, he fell into the same boat as I did, not being able to finish college because of the disaster. As per hiring policy, Pearl Park requires employees to be degree holders in biology, chemistry, biochemistry, or any other related field. Lucas was studying biochemistry with a neuroscience minor. Beyond impressive were his grades by what Lucas boasts to me, though I can’t confirm since the disaster destroyed his documents. In his third year, he already started planning his senior capstone project with research on the nervous system of several types of animals. We bonded over doing labs, the silliest or most dreadful courses we sat through, and how the university dining food sucked and ripped us all off. But it was a waste. In this new society, formal higher education is not important. Some schooling still persists, but they’re limited to small, dusty, singular classrooms led by underpaid teachers. Families tend to force children into work as it’s deemed more beneficial in learning practical home economics rather than mathematical theories, ethics, physical sciences, and so much more. The mindset of the remaining world focused on survival versus getting jobs of higher pay and better conditions. No one could blame us when authority breaks and the top 1% fully turn their back on you. Despite being turned down for medical practice, Lucas still wholeheartedly accepted the situation and embraced helping out in the clinic. Here and there with a bit of discreteness, Lucas does patch up some patients with bandage, disinfect cuts, and give advice for those with physical pain. Might I add, he’s quite popular with the patients as well, handsome and charming as he is. I’ll admit to it, I’m jealous of how he lifts everyone up in the toughest hours. Shortly after he joined, my arrival a week later brought him joy knowing I was stuck in the same sticky situation he was in. His passion could be seen a mile away. On the other hand, I just needed this job to keep myself afloat like everyone else.

I snap back to reality when one of the doctors, Dr. Lee who made a beeline towards one of the stations, bumped my side. Asshole, I think to myself. He’s head of the Pearl Park operation, so I don’t feel the desire to cause trouble by reprimanding him. This job allows me to hang onto my existence and sanity with my apartment, I couldn’t afford to lose it. His voice booms suddenly, startling nearby staff, “Is Lucas not here? I need him to help.” His voice trails off and erupts again, “With surgery preparation on Monday,” he swivels his head to one of the lead nurses, “We’re doing a skin graft for a severely burned person.” Despite the cold aura, his face contorted with concern and urgency. The patients put complete faith into him as he’s been a well-known medical practitioner since before the disaster. My imagination briefly ponders the severity of the injury as if I haven’t seen my fair share of nasty burn wounds. Shoulders shudder for a moment, and then I begin towards the North Wing where my first duty awaits.

▶ Ambience

Phew. That might’ve been the longest shift of my life. All day, the image of Lucas constantly itched at the back of my mind. It was difficult to focus, but I managed to get through the hours until 8:00pm. With my feet aching from exhaustion and a slight headache from lack of food or water, I decide to pay a visit to my other favorite place: East Row’s finest Chinese street food, Electric Egg. In my innermost thoughts, I’d hope to see Lucas there, munching away on tea eggs. That was his go-to snack after shifts at the clinic. Being on your feet all day does quite a bit of damage and leaves the stomach to growl, to fight for a delicious energy replenishment. When I arrive, one of my coworkers greets me cheerfully, shouting and waving my name as I draw closer, much to my embarrassment. “Sicheng,” my voice laced with laughter, “how’s business!” Our most common exchange, with the most common reply. With a hardy laugh, he shoots back, “The everyday thing, you know. Slow.” Sicheng’s smile invites me towards the side of the stall as he prepares what he knows are my regular dishes of choice. “Xi’an pancake and sesame tang yuan, coming right up!” As if on cue, my stomach beams in excitement and I lay my hand on it to feel the grumble, making Sicheng to laugh. “How’s work by the way, and where’s Lucas? I have his tea eggs already here.” I glanced to the side of the cart Sicheng worked away at, and indeed Lucas’s tea eggs sat prettily in a mug, waiting to be eaten.

I sigh, turning Sicheng’s grin into a straight line. He’s observant and knows how to read the room well. After a pause to gather myself, I sit down on a stool facing Sicheng and begin to tell him my worries. “I’m not sure if maybe I’m overthinking this, but Lucas always tells me if he’s not feeling well enough to work or go out somewhere. But he was gone this morning, he wasn’t in his room when I left for the clinic. He didn’t show up to the shift, and so many bad things could’ve happened, especially in the area we’re in. I’ve been checking my phone the entire day, but I’ve gotten no resp--”

“My tea eggs! You’re the best Sicheng, I really needed this after a long day, oh my god. You guys have no idea, my belly’s been howling!”

I froze. I know that voice too damn well. Anger immediately boiled within me, and it burst like the hot oil that hits Sicheng’s arms as he cooked. “You. Piece. Of. Shit,” I whipped my entire self around to face the tall man who unsurprisingly turned out to be Lucas with his disheveled hair framing his stupid little face. “Did you not see your call log? It’s just me, me, me, me, me, and oh guess who… me!” The tone in my words frightened even me, even more so realizing both Lucas and Sicheng’s widened eyes. I earned some dirty looks from customers as well. Nevertheless, I was pissed.

Lucas’s heightened shoulders steadily fall. “Hey, I’m sorry… Something really urgent came up, and it’s very personal to me. I hope you understand. I should’ve told you as soon as it came up.” His jaw clenches, his fists tightening their grip against the counter as he sternly looks at me across the food stall. I shake my head and roll my eyes, gaining a scolding expression from Sicheng who’s confusion was written all over his face. Deep within me, I know Lucas is sincere.

I start back up, loosening my voice to become gentle, “Eat your tea eggs, please. They’re getting cold and Sicheng prepared them for you early.” Silence followed, then the chewing noises from Lucas hungrily devouring his food. Maybe today was a hard day by the looks of it. Lucas took care of his appearance, so it was a shock to see him in a seemingly vulnerable state. His eye bags seem bulging and darkened, a sign of a sleepless night. Unsure of what to think, I let go of my displeasure and chip away at my pancake and rice balls. After satisfying our hunger, Lucas and I bid Sicheng a goodbye and head back to our apartment complex. The walk is painfully awkward.

▶ Ambience

This feeling is nice. To have Lucas back as we go through our nightly routine of washing our faces and brushing our teeth in a tiny community bathroom. Our mannerisms seem slightly less stiff, and though minimal, it takes a huge weight off my shoulders. He’s back and I feel secure again. But he doesn’t bring up anything about earlier. I’m about to comment on his long-sleeved shirt as he’s the biggest heat anti in the world, refusing to wear anything that isn’t a muscle tee. But the rough emotions rattled us both, so I drop it from my list of questions to ask. We get ready for bed in silence, only starting to discuss things when we finish up and plop on the floor of my apartment. I tried to figure out if I was uncomfortable from the cold floor or for the conversation that might unfold. Since Lucas has been excruciatingly quiet, I take the initiative, “I sent so many messages and calls today. Do you know how worried I was?” Disappointment heavily coat my concerns. “This isn’t like you, I was seriously going to lose my mind. Please… can you tell me what’s going on?”

It pains me to see him looking like he’s kicked down again from having an already bad day, but I needed answers. He’s the person I trust the most in the life we have now. His chest inflated and quickly deflated. “I’m about to show you something. It might freak you out.” He tugs at the ribbed cuff of his left sleeve. A tattoo? Perhaps a little smiley face or some unconventional design placed oddly on his arm that he wanted to cover since we work at a clinic? Though tattoos are normalized on staff... Or an injury? Whatever it is, I just want to know whatever he’s hiding. “Promise me you won’t make a big commotion, I will explain.”

Without much thinking, I grow irritated at him for dragging this out, so I reach for the end of his shirt and pull it up quickly, unveiling the truth. My body and mind go rigid at the sight, unable to process whatever this… contraption was. “Lucas… what the hell is this,” I ask, alarmed, taking in the faintly glowing circuits and tiny sparks of blue electricity lighting up and down tubes that poke in and out of the machinery. From his shoulder down to his fingers, metals and screws and wires replace his flesh. After a long minute of examination and curiosity, I turn my attention back to Lucas’s face which expressed great worry, fear, and uncertainty. “Is this the reason you were gone today?” He gently shook my hand off and swiftly covered his arm with his shirt again. With a dejected look, he takes his eyes off mine and pins them on the dusty floorboards. His arm is no longer human.

“Dr. Lee from the clinic.”

#2096: zodiac #taeyong x reader #cyberpunk au #mafia au #taeyong reader insert #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct u #nct #kpop fanfic #lee taeyong #wong yukhei #lucas #wayv #nct angst #nct mafia au #winwin #dong sicheng

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blazerina · 5 years

Text

Better (MC x Ethan) Open Heart

Title: Better

Pairing: MC (Allie) x Ethan

Word Count: 1707

Summary: Dr. Allie Valentine has once again disappointed Dr. Ethan Ramsey and struggles to figure out what to do next – is it really over for her? How will she be able to prove to him she has what it takes to be a successful doctor? And what exactly is going on between them in the meantime?!

Author’s Note: Hi friends! I don’t write or post as much as I used to but I’ve been especially excited about Open Heart and Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Trying to increase the connection and chemistry between these two…hope you enjoy!!

“Time of death, 2136.” Ramsey looked at the red numbers of the digital clock in the room as his voice rang out over the chaos.

“No.” Allie muttered, continuing chest compressions on the young man lying on the table. “I’ve got this, doctor. We can still sa—“

“Valentine!” Ramsey raised his voice, making eye contact with her while others in the room held their breath.

“I called it. It’s over.”

The snap of the plastic gloves popping off Ethan’s hands echoed as he threw them down in a heap on the floor, quickly exiting the room.

Allie was frozen in place, her hands still clasped tightly on top of one another, on the chest of a now deceased patient. He was 15. He had come in only a few minutes before, complaining of shortness of breath, feeling light-headed and now here he was…dead.

As she climbed down off the table, her hands were shaking. She felt tears threatening her eyes and knew she had to leave the room as soon as possible. Taking a deep breath, she tried to smile ruefully at the nurses who began cleaning up, but she was unsuccessful in escaping the room before the tears began to fall.

She raced down the hallway looking for relief in the sight of an empty medicine closet, or the locker room. She was once again turned around and not completely aware of her surroundings. Unable to find what she was looking for, she ran out the nearest exit into the evening air. It was cold outside. As she inhaled the air froze her lungs, but she welcomed the burn.

Allie found herself on a small balcony near one of the hospital cafeterias. Metal tables and chairs littered the area, along with umbrellas to be used when the weather was warmer. Leaning on the railing, Allie tried to calm herself down.

She knew it would happen at some point but she never expected it to be so soon. What had she missed? How could she have not seen the signs that something more serious was happening with this kid? She knew she’d never forget this night, or this moment.

And then there was the issue of Ramsey.

Dr. Ramsey.

She promised him she wouldn’t let him down and here she was, only a few days into her internship year at Edenbrook, and a patient had died on her watch. This could be the end of her career in medicine, and this was not the way she wanted to go out. Closing her eyes and letting the evening breeze chill her to the bone, she steadied her breathing and told herself to keep it together.

He won’t break me. She whispered as she opened her eyes again.

While she exhaled one last time, she turned back toward the door, ready to face whatever was on the other side. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a doctor down on the street level below. The posture. The body language. The anger that could be seen in his eyes all proved she knew exactly who it was.

With his hands on his head, looking extremely displeased and frustrated, Ramsey was pacing back and forth, muttering something to himself. Allie watched him for a few minutes, trying to decide if she should go and talk to him. She wasn’t sure what she’d say; she wasn’t sure how he’d respond, but she knew she had to say something. She couldn’t let her shift end tonight without at least trying to reconcile with him. She wanted desperately to salvage her relationship with Dr. Ramsey, but she was not hopeful her night would end the way she wanted.

Giving herself an internal pep-talk for one last time, Allie was startled when she heard a loud noise and looked over the edge again to realize Ramsey had taken out his frustration on a nearby garbage can, kicking it over and yelling some expletives.

“This ought to be good.” She said aloud, as she opened the door and then walked back into the hospital confidently, with her head held high.

As the evening went on, Allie tried to keep herself focused on more easy tasks like running tests, doing bloodwork, reviewing results and checking on patients, rather than dealing with anything new. Her shift was coming to an end, and she was a bit surprised she had not seen Dr. Ramsey again since the incident earlier that night.

The mystery of when and where Ramsey would show up next was not one she was looking forward to solving. When her shift was over, she went to her locker and changed clothes quickly, hoping to escape and have some time to herself before reporting for her next shift in a short 10 hours. On her way out of the hospital, she stopped to get a soda from the snack machine area, to sip on the train ride home.

After she made her selection, she reached down to pick up her coke from the machine, when she realized it was stuck.

“Great.” Allie sighed, rolling her eyes.

Realizing she didn’t have any more change, she turned around to leave when a familiar and somewhat unpleasant voice, called out to her from the doorway of the snack room.

“You’re going to give up that easily?” Ramsey chided.

“It’s not worth it.” Allie responded, adjusting her bag, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap at her shoulder.

“Is that what you thought earlier today too?”

Biting her lip, she looked up through her lashes and made cold, hard, unwavering eye contact with him and answered sternly, “No.”

“That’s not the way I saw it.” Ramsey shrugged, walking towards her.

“Things went downhill and you panicked. I saw it in your eyes.”

Allie stuttered, “I – I have never…no one has ever died on me like that before…I didn’t…”

“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Ramsey stood in front of the snack machine, choosing a chocolate candy bar and retrieving it easily.

He slowly sauntered over to the drink machine and hit the side of the machine twice with his fist. The can rolled out of the open door. Ramsey picked up the can and handed it to Allie in one smooth motion.

“It’s happened to me before a time or two…” He trailed off as he opened his snack.

“You drink soda? Didn’t think you’d be the type.” Allie questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking at him sideways.

“I was referring to someone dying on me.” Ramsey responded seriously, keeping eye contact with her as he bit off the corner piece of chocolate.

Allie inhaled sharply, immediately looking down, unsure of what to say or how to act.

“I know I told you I wouldn’t let you down again and this afternoon I was sure it was just pneumonia or maybe asthma, but something else obviously happened and I missed it.

He died because I missed it.

And it sucks and I hate it but it is what it is. I cannot change it now, Dr. Ramsey, I can only learn from it and try to be better for the next time.”

She tried to push her way past him and out of the uncomfortable situation she found herself in, but he stood in the doorway and held out an arm to stop her.

Allie knew that now was not the time to be focusing on anything other than the conversation at hand, but he was close enough to her now that she could see the small flecks of gray in his beard, how tired his eyes were, but also the deep blue-gray shade they held. The chocolate in his hand had to be melting at this point as the two of them were now standing closer to each other than they’d ever been before.

Allie knew she was tired, but she questioned whether or not something was happening here. She felt something. Something new. Something different. Something softer. She questioned it, and didn’t buy into it completely.

“Allie.”

Ramsey almost whispered her name and the hair on the back of her neck stood up hearing him refer to her by her first name. Not Rookie. Not Valentine…but Allie.

“I missed it too.” His eyes searched hers and she looked up at him in awe.

She was astonished that he was admitting a mistake. She dared not move, wondering when the world would come crashing down around her.

“You weren’t alone when we lost him today. It never gets any easier and I hate to say it…” He stopped and took a deep breath, “but it will happen again.”

Unsure of what was happening in this moment and unable to control her emotions, Allie’s eyes began to sting. She steeled herself and while one tear managed to find its way down her cheek, she held the others back.

She swallowed hard and again adjusted her bag while quickly wiping away the falling tear. Allie hoped he hadn’t seen her, but he was too observant.

“Come back tomorrow ready to start over. Put it behind you as best you can.”

He was careful not to reach out to her, he seemed almost hesitant as he removed himself from the doorway of the snack room. He didn’t look at her, but continued to fiddle with the wrapper of his candy bar.

“Thank you.” Allie tried to smile as she walked through the entrance.

“Oh, and Dr. Ramsey?” She called as she looked back over her shoulder.

“By the time I’m done here, I’ll have been the best intern you’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. That’s a promise.”

Ramsey smirked and took another bite of chocolate. Laughing to himself, he told her, “I’ve had better.”

Remembering her conversation with him about his special drink at Donahue’s, Allie bit her lip and made sure he was looking at her when she responded, “No you haven’t.”

She boldly tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and marched self-assuredly down the hall. She was proud of herself as she cracked open the soda can and took a quick drink. Allie knew he was watching her walk away and hoped she had left him waiting for, and wanting, her to come back.

#mc x ethan #mc x ethan ramsey #open heart #blazerina babbles #allie x ethan #dr. ethan ramsey #dr. valentine x dr. ramsey #mc x dr. ramsey #ethan x mc

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tiawritesgood · 5 years

Text

Jurassic: The New World, Chapter Ten

Owen hid behind his designated tree, ready to go on Claire’s signal. It was incredible how Claire could come up with a plan despite her anger. That was likely why she did so well managing Jurassic World. She was quick on her feet, and good under pressure.

He just hoped Claire’s plan worked. Owen didn’t think he or his girlfriend could handle it if they failed.

“On my mark,” Claire whisper yelled. Owen passed the sentiment on to the boys who hid behind the next two trees down. Their mother was the lookout.

“One, two…” Claire paused a few extra beats before darting out from behind her tree. “Three!”

InGen was surrounded by armed guards, but they didn’t dare shoot. That was one of the many assumptions Owen had made. The guards knew that Owen and Claire were InGen’s only hope at finding Blue, so they weren’t allowed to shoot.

Claire walked casually towards the guards despite her hasty exit from the tree line. She approached a side entrance that they had spotted doing recon. Two guards stood outside. Both were taller than Claire, one wide with muscle and the other lanky and thin. Owen watched Claire hand for the signal and tamped down any lingering worry he had about her. This would only work if he was calm and focused, which he couldn’t do if he was scared that his girlfriend was in danger. Claire was very capable of taking care of herself. She’d proven that on more than one occasion.

The red-headed woman’s voice carried across the open grass and into the trees where Owen hid. “Hey, boys. I need to speak with the good doctor.”

“Not a chance, pretty lady.”

Owen winced. Calling Claire ‘pretty lady’ was a terrible mistake. Her goal was to use the low-dose tranquilizer darts Owen had stored in the van, but if something went awry, Claire was prepared to use other methods. She and Owen didn’t spar in their front yard for no reason.

“Come on, fellas. You can let this pretty lady in, can’t ya?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” a different guard said. “We’re under strict orders not to allow you inside. Straight from the mouth of Dr. Wu.”

Claire clenched her fist behind her back. It was almost go-time.

“I’m asking nicely.”

The lanky guard laughed. “I really wish we could help you, but we just can’t. You can try going around front and checking in at the desk.”

“Such a shame, boys. I’d hoped we could do this the easy way.”

Claire took one step back and the guards relaxed. They were too stupid to be afraid of a small red head. That was their second mistake. Owen was glad he wasn’t those guards.

As soon as the men let down their defenses, Claire pivoted on her left foot and swung her right up and around, hitting the larger man square in the jaw. He stumbled, but didn’t fall over.

Tall and lanky sprang into action, attempting to point his long gun at the moving woman. He was clearly fresh out of training and no idea what to do should someone actually try to break in. That was good – InGen wasn’t expecting them.

And, thanks to Zack and Grey’s computer expertise, InGen didn’t see them coming, either. Their surveillance cameras ran on a constant loop to protect the soon-to-be intruders.

Claire laughed at the younger guard’s attempts. “Really?” Her right first slammed into his face. He crumpled to the ground in a solid heap. One down, one to go.

“Your turn, buddy. And by the way: I hate being called a pretty lady. I’m so much more than that!”

She definitely was. Claire ducked beneath the large guard’s punch and rolled behind him. Laying on her back, she kicked the back of his knees, causing him to fall. He reached for his gun, but Claire was much faster. Her boot dug into the back of the guard’s neck.

“Honestly, you should have just let me in.”

Claire took a dart from her pocket and released the safety tip. Before the guard could make another move, she stuck the needle point into his neck. Within seconds, the man was fast asleep. The tranq would only last an hour or so, and the other guard would likely wake up first. They didn’t have much time.

Claire moved her fingers into the OK symbol. It was simple and a bit cliché, but it worked. Owen, Zack, and Grey jogged across the open field to where Claire waited for them.

“Easy, peasy,” she said with a grin. Owen couldn’t help it – he pulled her up against his chest and kissed her hard. Watching her take out those guards was hot.

Zack tapped Owen’s shoulder. “Okay first of all, gross. Second, we really need to go before anyone comes to check on these guys.”

Owen released Claire and she straightened up her shirt. It was caked with mud, torn from tree branches, and clung to her sweat-soaked skin, but Owen didn’t care. She looked insanely beautiful no matter what she wore.

Zack and Grey made quick work of stripping the guards down to their skivvies and putting on the uniforms. Luckily, both boys were tall, so the clothes fit okay. Zack was engulfed in the larger man’s outfit, but not so much so that he looked ridiculous. Owen would have to ask Zack what his workout routine was. The kid had gained some muscle definition over the years. Not that Owen really needed a new workout, but it never hurt to try new things. With dinosaurs on the loose, strength and agility were more important than ever.

Once the boys were dressed, they used the guard’s keycards to enter the building. The light blinked green and the doors unlocked. The foursome headed inside, watching their backs as they moved.

“We need to find the main security office,” Zack whispered. “I can find where they’re holding Maisie that way.”

“Down this hallway, right, third left, right side.”

No one gave Grey’s instructions a second thought. He memorized directions the way he memorized dinosaur facts. They had seen the InGen blueprints for a split second before putting the plan in motion, and Grey was able to figure out where they would have to go. That was why he was with them and not outside with his mother.

Zack and Grey went ahead to scout each hallway. It wasn’t likely that the two boys were on InGen’s radar, so they could blend in as security better than Claire and Owen. Their faces were probably plastered on the break room wall.

Only one person had to be tranqed during their journey to the control room. Well, not including the two guys who were in charge of watching the monitors. Claire took them out quickly, and Zack and Grey settled in front of the computers.

The boys were able to divert the feeds remotely, but they couldn’t get a good look at the system without risking someone noticing.

“This is the only control room,” Zack confirmed after fiddling with the technology. We can unloop the cameras and find Maisie now.”

They could have brought Blue in to track their daughter, but it would have been hard to hide an angry dinosaur. Much easier to hide angry parents and cousins. Blue wasn’t happy with the command, but she obeyed Owen and stayed at the tree line.

Zack flipped through hundreds of camera feeds. Each member of the group took a monitor and watched for any sign of Maisie.

“Stop!” Claire yelled after a few minutes. “Go back one.”

Zack obeyed, and everyone looked at Claire’s screen. Sure enough, Maisie was there, looking small and frail in a hospital bed. A needle stuck in her arm.

“Is that blood?” Owen asked, pointing to the bag hanging on her IV stand. It was impossible to tell in the black and white video, but it definitely looked like blood. “What are they doing to her?”

Claire rubbed Owen’s back. “Whatever it is, it stops now.”

Zack put the monitors back on their loop and Grey spouted out directions to Maisie’s room. It was only a couple of hallways down, on the right. Unfortunately, there were a ton more people in that area. Luckily, they were wearing lab coats, not security uniforms.

“What do we do, Aunt Claire?” Zack asked as they peered around the corner. “We can’t take all of them.”

Claire nodded. Owen could see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she revised her original plan. Though, truthfully, the plan had only gone as far as the control room. It was always going to be improvised from that point on.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Claire said. “We make a run for it.”

“What?”

“We run. They’re scientists. They’ll chase us, but hopefully at least one of us will get to Maisie first.”

Owen studied his girlfriend’s face. Her features were set and determined. There was no talking her out of this plan, and if the rest didn’t agree, she would have run on without them.

“Fine. On three, we run.”

Claire counted them off. “One. Two… Three!”

Owen, Claire, Zack, and Grey took off down the final hallway towards Maisie’s room.

“Stop!” “Wait!” “This are is restricted!”

The scientists yelled after them, but none actually tried to stop them. They called security, but it was too late. Less than a minute later, all four of them were at the door to Maisie’s room.

“You don’t want to do that,” a familiar voice said. “Open that door, and we won’t hesitate to eliminate you.”

Owen had his hand on the knob. Through the window, he could see Maisie asleep in the bed. She had to be in a drug-induced sleep to stay quiet through all of the chaos in the hallway.

He swallowed down tears threatening to spill over. These monsters were doing tests on his daughter, and they wouldn’t get away with it.

“We came for Maisie. She belongs with us. You have no right to her.”

“Maisie is an experiment, not a human. The judge never should have sent her with you. You don’t know what she needs.”

“What she needs?” Claire screamed. “What she needs are her parents. Not some scumbag scientists running tests on her blood!”

Dr. Wu chuckled. “You never understood what I did, Claire. You never appreciated me. And now you think we’re running tests on the girl’s blood. If you had only listened…”

Claire grabbed the man’s collar. Owen didn’t bother trying to get her to back off. If she hadn’t done it, he probably would have. “You listen. Give us back our daughter, and we won’t report you for this. We’ll tell authorities we found her in the woods.”

“Give us Blue.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then Maisie stays with us. Go ahead and talk to the police. They won’t believe you, and the ones that will, we’ve already taken care of. You’d be surprised how little it costs to buy loyalty these days.”

That explained why the police weren’t doing more to find Maisie. They had known where she was the whole time. A week had gone by with no sign of their daughter, and the police just kept lying to Claire and Owen, acting like they were looking.

Owen’s ears burned with rage. “Wu, I’m telling you once, and only once. Give. Us. Back. Our. Daughter.”

“No.”

Then all hell broke loose.

And it wasn’t Owen or Claire. Not even Zack or Grey.

Red lights filled the hallway and an alarm screeched from speakers high on the walls. Owen, Claire, Zack, and Grey covered their ears, but it did nothing to drown out the horrid sound.

“Wu, there’s been an intrusion.”

The scientist pointed to the four people in front of Maisie’s door. “Yes, I see that.”

“No,” the guard said. He held up a tablet for Dr. Wu to see. “A different kind of intrusion.”

Before anyone could respond, a horrifying scream sounded from down the hall. In response was a familiar sound.

“Blue!” Owen cried. His raptor turned the corner and ran full speed towards her master. She hit the guard with her tail and squared up to attack Dr. Wu, but Owen called her off.

“Wait. Blue. Halt.”

The dinosaur glanced at Owen, then back at the doctor. She snarled, but didn’t attack.

“That’s a good girl.” He turned his attention to Dr. Wu. “Now, we are going to go in there and get Maisie. She’s coming with us. If you try to stop us, I won’t call Blue back.”

The doctor shook, but not in fear. Rage filled his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” he spat. “We don’t need her or the raptor. We have something else, something bigger. You won’t see it coming. None of you will!”

Owen didn’t have time to consider the threat. He finally opened the door to his daughter’s room, only Maisie was no longer in the bed.

The small girl jumped from behind the door, brandishing a surgical knife. She stopped herself before using the weapon.

Tears fell immediately. Owen and Claire collapsed to the floor and pulled Maisie in for a group hug. Zack and Grey joined them.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” Claire said through her sobs. “You are never leaving our sight again.”

The girl giggled. “I’ll have to leave eventually, Mom. Just, not for a long while.”

This brought a smile to both Claire and Owen’s lips.

“Come on, then,” Owen said, standing and holding out a hand to his daughter. “Let’s go home.”

Maisie nodded. “I’ve been waiting a whole week for you to say that.”

Owen held her hand tightly. Claire may have been joking, but he didn’t plan on leaving Maisie’s side for a very, very long time. Now that he knew what it was like to lose her, he would make sure it never happened again.

No matter what it took.

#jurassic world #jurassic park #jurassic #dinosaurs #claire dearing #owen grady #clowen #claire and owen #owen and claire #maisie lockwood #maisie #fallen kingdom #fanfiction #fanfic #story #fan story #scifi

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kriskebob-blog · 6 years

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Day 3: My experiment is tested by weekend socializing

Hi friends. Happy Saturday night! Tonight I’m blogging about the events of yesterday, which I think was probably my most uneventful day so far on this dietary adventure... at least in terms of shopping and prepping interesting new meals. Both breakfast and lunch were covered by leftovers - we still had half the burrito bake left and then we polished off the salad and zoodles for lunch. According to the order of recipes as given by Dr. G, our next dinner would be spinach and mushroom black bean burritos. I took a look at the recipe. It looked like one of the simplest ones yet. A can of black beans, some minced onion and garlic, some chopped mushroom, a few handfuls of baby spinach... and then some seasoning in the form of savory spice blend (already prepped), cayenne pepper (duh of course I’d have that), summer salsa (already prepped), and then Dr. G’.s “Healthy Hot Sauce (see page 8)”. Psh. This was going to be nothing after all the cooking I’d done yesterday. Today would actually feel like more of a “normal” day where all I really had to worry about cooking was a quick dinner. It felt good and right for a Friday. Time to unwind a little, you know? We also had plans that night to meet up for a game night with some friends who had recently moved back to CT after a few years out west.

The one thing I’d have to stop and prep before throwing together these vegan burritos was the “healthy hot sauce” but I didn’t think that’d be a big deal. I had purchased several big handfuls of fresh red chiles at Big Y that morning. The guy bagging my groceries had raised his brows. “Habaneros? Oh, man. I wouldn’t eat those,” he shook his head. I smiled politely and thought to myself, Shit. I had never cooked with habaneros before. I hadn’t realized that’s what these peppers were; the bin had only been labeled “hot chiles.” (Does anyone else’s grocery store have this tendency not to specify which fresh chiles are which?? It’s annoying honestly!) I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll just... use less or something if I need to, I thought doubtfully. The cookbook hadn’t specified what kind of chiles to use, it’d just specify that they be “fresh hot chiles, a single type or mixed.” I had gone for the red ones because I’d liked the idea of a traditional red hot sauce. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about my choice, but no turning back at that point.

Oh, and in case you wondered how my second trip to the grocery store this week went - MUCH easier! I didn’t end up needing nearly as much stuff the second time, in part because I still had tons of produce left over from my earlier visit this week and I also had less pantry items to purchase this time (didn’t need to return to Whole Foods, thank god). I did end up picking up a big container of unsalted roasted almonds and then lots of blueberries from the farm stand because I was really going to need more fast snacking options if I was going to make it through these two weeks without stuffing granola in my face. Even with two pints of blueberries and 22oz of almonds, my bill was definitely improved from last time. I’ve still spent a lot more on groceries this week than I normally would, but I had expected as much. Hard to avoid it when you’re replacing cheap staples like eggs and toast with a heaping plate of fiber every morning.

Alright so back to the point aka what I expected to be a totally easy day of food prep. All I needed to prep that night were some simple burritos, this “healthy hot sauce” alternative, and then a snack to share when we went to see our friends. I had decided on the edamame guacamole recipe in Dr. G’s book. Since you obviously want your guac to be as fresh as possible when it’s eaten, I’d wait until we got pretty close to our planned departure time to throw it together. I figured it’d take like ten minutes maybe.

Sam got home early and was eager to help me prep dinner like the gem that he is. “Honestly, we can probably wait another half hour or so,” I told him. “This isn’t going to take that long to prep or cook.” So we got started around 5:15. We wanted to be at our friends’ place for 7:00 so that seemed like plenty of time to cover a quick dinner and then throw together the guac.

Except then I flipped back to actually read the “healthy hot sauce” recipe more carefully. I blinked as I realized it wanted me to cook down the chiles for nearly half an hour and then “allow them to come to room temperature.” Would have been no big deal at all... if I had bothered to read this an hour earlier. Whoops. Shit, I thought. Within ~10 seconds I decided screw it. I really wasn’t feeling too confident about those habaneros anyways and we still had a big jug of Frank’s hot sauce in the fridge. Definitely not a whole food, but what the hell was the harm of adding a tiny bit of a normal condiment here or there? I looked again at the burrito recipe. It said to just add hot sauce to taste. We could probably just skip it entirely then. Great. Problem solved. I’ll use those chiles and try to make the hot sauce another day, I thought, doubting myself even as I said the words in my own head.

As expected, the spinach & mushroom black bean filling was super quick to prepare and cook. One thing I’m realizing is that the cooking process for a lot of these meals is honestly a lot simpler than meat-based meals (or at least so long as you have your fancy hand-made condiments, salsas, sauces, raw cashews, etc etc prepped in advance...). The vegetables often only need a few minutes to cook down, you don’t have to stop to wash your hands every time you handle a piece of raw meat or egg, and, of course, you don’t have to worry about actually cooking any animal protein. Just cook those veggies down some, season them to your liking, and you’re golden. And speaking of seasoning, I did end up adding a bit of Frank’s to the mixture in the pot. But just a splash okay!

Aw yea. And then here’s a burrito topped with the salsa before it got devoured (it was super messy btw):

The verdict for this one? Tasty... but again, it needed salt. I haven’t been tasting the food for saltiness before sitting down to eat it because I’ve been trying to stick to Dr. G’s sodium substitutes/replacements but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last! I actually would have liked to see what it tasted like with some fennel seed added in; I always remember one black bean taco recipe I made ages ago that I loved mainly because of that spice’s inclusion. It’s a nice way to trick your brain into thinking you might be eating sausage.

We cleaned up the kitchen and it was a little after 6. Our friends only lived 15-20 minutes away. “Let’s wait until like 6:30 before we put together the guac, so that it’s fresh,” I told Sam.

This was to end up being a major mistake on my part. So, first of all, it was definitely a risky move to decide to bring something like “edamame guacamole” to a social gathering. People are really freaking opinionated about what guacamole is supposed to taste like (myself included, admittedly). I’d had edamame before and I figured its addition would go mostly unnoticed under the flavors of lime, cilantro, jalapeno, etc.

Looks like the right set-up for the makings of a perfectly normal and tasty guacamole, no?

Sadly, it really just didn’t come out good at all. I tasted it and actually winced. There was a sharp bitter flavor that took me completely aback. “I think the edamame is throwing me off,” I told Sam, who had also tasted it and looked as uneasy as I felt. I wasn’t sure what else the issue could be if not the obvious interloper ingredient. I’d even insisted we add in some kosher salt even though Dr. G, of course, called for his “savory spice blend” instead. Guacamole without any actual salt is a freaking crime, I’m sorry Dr. G. “Add more lime juice maybe?” I suggested to Sam, as he was the one who had thrown it together (have I mentioned that he’s the best?). I also added a bit more salt.

We tried for a long time to salvage that guac. We added plenty more lime. More tomato. We even decided to blend up another avocado to try and mask the admittedly weird presence of the edamame. I tried it again and still winced a little. It still had a bitter bite to it that we couldn’t seem to mask. “I think it might not even be the edamame... it seems like it might be the jalapeno,” I told Sam. Well. This sucked. I’d just bought a handful of jalapenos fresh from the farmstand that very morning. For maybe the first time ever, Johnny Appleseed’s had let me down, and they had let me down hard.

We were running pretty late at this point. We hemmed and hawed about if we should stop at the store and pick up something else to bring but in the end we decided to grin and bear it, and off we went to see our friends, subpar homemade guac and freshcut veggies in tow. Our friends were perfectly polite about the guac (we had told them why we’d been late), but let’s just say it definitely wasn’t the hit of the evening. Sigh. Our first foray into sharing a Dr. G recipe with friends had not exactly gone well, but it’s hard to say whether it was the recipe itself or the bitterness of that pepper. I do know that if I made that recipe again, I’d add even more salt, cause honestly Dr. G, if even a metric f@*!-ton of vegetables every day isn’t enough to save my arteries from hypertension, I’m not sure they deserve saving anyways.

We had a nice night seeing old friends and meeting some new ones. I will say, though, that I was agonizingly tempted by the cookies that were set out for any guest to grab. They were the huge chocolate-chip/M&M ones from Stop and Shop and anyone who’s ever been at a party with me knows I love those things, damn it. I tried not to stare too jealously at everyone else as they ate their cookies and instead I ate a couple of slices of watermelon. I’ve actually never been a watermelon fan, but at that point I was willing to take whatever acceptable form of sugar I could get! And you know, it was honestly pretty good.

We got home around midnight and I kicked off my shoes, still sighing at Sam about how badly I had wanted one of those cookies. Unsurprisingly, he had no sympathy for me and my self-imposed first world problems. It was past our bedtime but I didn’t want to go to bed, I wanted to plop on the couch with a cookie and a beer, or maybe a nice glass of wine. Just yesterday I was writing about how surviving my first complete day of only plant-based whole foods hadn’t been that hard, but now it was Friday night, a night when Sam and I normally celebrated the end of another work week with some sort of indulgence - a dinner out, a trip to the ice cream stand, a bottle of wine or a six-pack... hell, sometimes all three. I changed into my pajamas and thought about the fact that all of my favorite vices in life seem to involve putting large amounts of sugar and/or a few drinks into my bloodstream. It admittedly didn’t seem awesome for my longterm health to be doing that even as often as once a week. And we’d still had fun that night without any of that, right? Right.

I dutifully stuffed a final late night snack of some unsalted peanuts into my mouth and ten minutes later brushed my teeth and went to bed. Survived another day and managed to cheat only a tiny bit with my defiant pinches of kosher salt and splashes of Frank’s red hot sauce.

Hope you’ll be back for Day 4′s write-up tomorrow, friends! Here’s a bonus: an action shot of Sammy the Sous Chef getting our veggie platter ready:

Gadget rec of the day: A good blender! Most of us already have a blender I think, but if you really want to incorporate more whole foods and produce into your diet I think a good blender is an absolute must. I’ve only been following this diet for three days and I’ve already used our blender more times than I can count on one hand.

Music rec of the day: “Sophia” by Laura Marling

#food blogger #food #food blogging #veganism #wholefoods #plantbased #foodblogger #healthyeating #idk

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ruffsficstuffplace · 6 years

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And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 54)

Akko could finally use the mind palace machine later that day, and the sound of cranking, pedaling, and whirring quickly became a constant presence in AWRD’s dorm room, like their studying for their exams on Thursday and Friday had been given a soundtrack.

Whether it was going over their notes, old quizzes, and mock tests they’d borrowed from Blake, Lotte, and the rest of the student tutors; planning and practicing for the practical projects like for Gen-Mech; or even the rapid ramping up of their recovery training, there was scarcely a free moment in their schedules.

However, they unanimously agreed that Wednesday evening would be free for all of them, and Ruby and Weiss took that opportunity to go down to the city with their siblings for dinner.

“You guys are really going all out for this, aren’t you?” Yang asked, reaching into the steamer basket in front of them for another steamed bun.

“Mhmm!” Ruby replied as she munched on the one in her hands. She swallowed, and continued, “Gotta get those good grades so we can focus on the Tsukimi Festival! It’s gonna be really bad for the plan if we have to do the really intense extra credit work, like with your team.

“How’s your week off going so far, anyway?” she asked, before she swallowed the last of her bun.

“Amazing, and it’s actually gotten even better!” Yang said, smiling as she peeled off the paper underside of her bun. “Dr. Freya’s just up and decided to give us an extra two days off!”

“That’s great!” Ruby said, still chewing. “Changed your plans any?”

“Oh, you bet your ass we have! Whole thing’s still starting right after exams Friday afternoon, but now ends early Wednesday morning!” Yang explained before she ripped the top off a sauce packet with her teeth. “It may just be two weeknights, but it’s going to be two weeknights where we can decide how the hell we’re going to spend them, and we are going to make them count!

“You or any of your teammates want in?” she asked as she poured a generous heaping of spicy sauce on to her bun. “Sucy’s coming with us this time, now that she can leave campus and all, but I promise I won’t let her try any freaky experiments on any of you—just keep a very close eye on your drinks, she’s like a ninja,” she said before she bit into her food.

“Oh, I’d love to, but we’re going straight back to the plans for the Festival right after exams—Diana and Weiss made synced up schedules and alerts for our scrolls, and everything,” Ruby said as she reached for the basket again.

“Aww, c’mon, Ruby, I know it’s important and all, but you gotta fit in some fun time in there!” Yang said through a mouthful of food.

“We already are!” Ruby replied as she peeled off the bottom. “We’re actually going out to dinner at the Bakunawa on Friday, because they want us to give our opinion on the new Festival menu—so business and pleasure!”

“Oooh, sounds fun!” Yang swallowed. “Any chance we can get in on that? We need a new hangout since we’re still can’t afford to buy our way back to the Shitty Bar.”

“Sorry, it’s a negative, not unless you’re willing to fork up the Lien like any other customer,” Ruby said as she poured sweet sauce on her bun. “We’re only eating free because we’re helping for the Festival, and Weiss and Akko both say that Aqua’s uncle Jun-Jun is SUPER strict about who gets free food and discounts.”

“Ah, well, at least I get to hang out with my little sister again!” Yang said, roping her arm around Ruby’s shoulders and pulling her in close. “Been way too long since we’ve done this last...”

“Well, to be fair, the world does seem to be incredibly intent on either killing you and your team, or drowning you in work, which has made scheduling difficult,” Whitley said as he and Weiss had dinner in a different restaurant. “There’s also the fact that we’re going to two different schools now, and you’re not living at home any longer.”

“Fair points,” Weiss said as she poked another cube of meat on her skewer, dipped it into the pot of boiling broth between them. “How is life in Sanctum, anyway? We haven’t really had much time to discuss, well, anything about you.”

“That’s mostly because my school year has been infinitely more boring and tedious than yours,” Whitley replied, casually pointing his empty skewer at Weiss.

“Oh, c’mon, Whitley, something interesting has to have happened in your life.”

“Not if it isn’t related to you, Akko, or the Shiny Rod,” Whitley replied. “I assure you, life in Sanctum is still just the same old teenage angst bullshit with legally sanctioned death matches that you and Akko have finally escaped,” he said as he looked at the remaining selection of bite-sized food in front of him.

Weiss nodded. “Speaking of which: are you doing alright now that we’re not around?”

“I’m… managing, I suppose...” Whitley replied as he slowly skewered a piece of potato.

Weiss frowned. “Define ‘managing,’ please,” she said as she fished out her meat, let it drain over the pot before she brought it over her plate.

“I’m attending all my classes,” Whitley started as he dipped his food into the broth. “I’m doing well in them for the most part, save for PE, but that’s always something of an inevitability. And of course, BCT continues to be the bane of my existence, except on the rare occasion when I do get a team or a partner that understands the concepts of ‘semblance exhaustion,’ ‘protect your support’ and ‘for fuck’s sake, get out of the way!’”

Weiss chuckled. “Met up with your old friends? Made any new ones?” she asked as she put her food to her mouth.

“… Kind of, and kind of...” Whitley replied, his eyes keenly on the end of his skewer and the bubbles rising from the broth.

Weiss stopped, and frowned. “What do you mean by that?” she asked as she put her skewer down on her plate.

Whitley pulled his potato out. “Well, with the old friend situation, we’ve recently realized you and Akko more than just the people that introduced us to each other, you two were kind of the reason we even hung out with each other and/or tolerated the other’s presence.

“With the new friend situation… it’s been… complicated.”

Weiss face softened. “Whitley...” she said as she reached out to him.

Whitley pulled his hand back. “Look, Weiss, please don’t worry; I’ll figure out something on my own eventually. That’s what this whole year is for us, isn’t it? Learning how to be independent?” he asked before he put his potato into his mouth.

“Yes, but being independent doesn’t mean you suddenly can’t, or shouldn’t rely on others...” Weiss said as she pulled her hand back. “Do you need help? Someone to talk to about it?”

Whitley shook his head. He swallowed, and said, “I appreciate the concern, Weiss, but I want to do this by myself a little longer, and I don’t want to talk about it—not right now.”

Weiss looked at him in concern, before she reluctantly nodded. “Good luck with that, then.”

“Thanks,” Whitley said quietly. He gave Weiss a warm look. “I mean it, honestly.”

Weiss smiled. “You’re welcome, Whitley,” she said, before they both returned to their food.

“So, the new Starlight Crusaders spin-off was released last week,” Whitley said as he skewered a chunk of meat this time. “You been able to watch it, by any chance?”

“No, haven’t had the time,” Weiss said as she pondered her choices. “Have you?”

Whitley nodded. “I have; the animation is still solid thanks to Lucidity doing it, but of course, Bhatt still wrote it, so I wouldn’t recommend it to you.” he said as he dipped his food into the pot.

“Ugh, I still don’t get what you see in them, Whitley,” Weiss said as she speared a chunk of carrot. “Black Hole was an absolute mess, and Centauri somehow made it even worse!”

“Bhatt has potential, Weiss!” Whitley complained.

“I’ll agree on that, but I still think the studio should be throwing all that money, resources, and good will with the fanbase on someone that can actually produce something actually good on its own, rather than with the extended universe media!

“Just admit it, Whitley, Bhatt should just go back to the indie scene or smaller studios; they had their chance in the spotlight, and they face planted not once, but twice in a row!”

And so the two siblings continued to argue, shouting and throwing points and counterpoints, until the hour grew late, and it was time for them all to head back to Haven.

“… And what do scholars generally agree doomed the state of Archaea?” Diana asked, holding a mock exam in her hands.

“In-fighting,” Akko muttered as she had her face flat on her desk, the top half of the mind palace machine pushed away as far as possible. “All the factions in the city finally got fed up and decided to go to all out war in the middle of winter when the grain started to run out.”

“Correct, but be more detailed, Akko; try and give me the names of at least three of those groups.”

Akko groaned. “Let’s see… there was the ruling class, the ‘Fortunata,’ the uh, the nationalist ‘Builder’ guys, and uh, the local mafia.”

“Who called themselves…?”

“The uh… the…?” Akko groaned. “I give up...”

“Ouroboros, Akko,” Diana said, “they called themselves the Ouroboros, as their philosophy was that man taking advantage of their fellow man was an inevitability, like death for everything that has ever lived.”

“Uuroobooroos, got it...” Akko muttered.

The lock to their door beeped, and was carefully pushed open. Weiss and Ruby paused for a moment as they noticed the overhead light was still on, before they stepped in. “Hey guys!” Ruby said, waving.

“You two are still up?” Weiss said.

“I don’t feel yet adequately prepared for exams,” Diana replied.

“And I’ve been waiting for you guys to get back...” Akko said, still face-down on her desk.

Weiss smiled. “Wanted to give a rousing speech to the team before exams?”

“No, I need someone to drag me to bed ‘cause my legs and arms are dead from all the studying I’ve been doing...” Akko muttered.

“I would have done it myself, but you all know how well that went last time...” Diana muttered, blushing.

“I’ve got it!” Ruby said, before she dragged Akko out of her chair and into her futon; they didn’t end up in the most dignified positions, but Akko was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and Ruby easily untangled herself from her.

“Not going to bed yet either, Weiss?” Ruby asked as she saw her sitting down at her desk.

“Yes,” Weiss replied as she pulled out one of her binders. “Before sleeping is the best time to learn, anything, after all!”

“Well don’t stay up too late!” Ruby headed to their closet, and started changing into her pajamas. “All that studying’s going to be useless if you fall asleep on your answer sheet.”

“Fret not, Ruby, we’re still well prepared for that,” Diana said, gesturing to two thermoses full of moon bloom or black moss.

“Can’t hurt to have a reminder or two!” Ruby chirped as she passed by them again on her way to her futon. “Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Ruby.” Weiss and Diana replied, before they shut off the main light and turned on their desk lamps.

They continued to read and quietly quiz each for an hour more, until their scrolls both locked and started vibrating, a cartoonish representation of Freya’s face scowling at them and telling them to go to sleep.

Diana chuckled. “Your grandparents were really involved in your studies, weren’t they?”

“That they were,” Weiss said, pressing the button labeled ‘Yes, Grandma!’ before she got up from her desk, and stretched. “You feeling ready now, Diana?”

“Not even close,” Diana replied as she neatly put away her things. “Then again, my idea of being ready for exams is to have studied and prepared for them daily since the first day of each grading period, and, well, life hasn’t been very accommodating to that recently.

“Speaking of which, can I ask you a question, Weiss?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“How have you survived all of the events of this month, and still be able to function this well?” Diana asked. “I mean, we’ve all suffered in one way or the other, but you’ve had objectively the worst time out of all four of us, as if some sadistic deity was targeting you specifically, and we were simply victimized by associtaion.”

Weiss shrugged. “Eh, I guess it’s a Schnee thing: the universe just seems to have it in for us both ways of the spectrum.” She looked over at the peacefully sleeping Akko. “Though, having a friend like Akko helpst, even if she did cause problems almost as much as she solved them.

“Why do you ask? Worried you can’t take much more?”

“No, not at all,” Diana said. “It’s just that that the events of this month are quickly becoming on par to some of the worst years I’ve faced, and it’s… well, it’s noteworthy, I suppose.”

Weiss smiled and touched Diana on the shoulder. “We’ll just make sure to pack lots of umbrellas from her on out.”

“Pardon?” Diana asked.

“It was my grandpa’s polite way of saying ‘Be prepared for future shitstorms,’” Weiss explained. “He couldn’t use the original for interviews little kids were watching, after all.”

Diana chuckled. “I see…”

5AM Thursday morning, Weiss didn’t wake up as usual, exhausted from last night.

5:30 AM, the alarm Akko set in her scroll activated.

“AKKO! WEISS!” Freya’s voice screeched. “WAKE UP! IT’S EXAM DAY!”

Akko and Weiss woke up screaming, bolting out of their futons. Diana and Ruby were jolted awake, sat up in their beds and watched as Weiss and Akko zipped about their room, rushing through their morning routines, ready to go in little less than a minute.

“Wow, you guys really weren’t kidding when you said this’d get you ready in no time at all, huh?” Ruby said as she climbed out of her futon.

Akko and Weiss both nodded, leaning on their desks as they waited for their heart rates back down to reasonable levels. Ruby and Diana went through their morning routine at relatively slower pace, and soon, they were standing before their door and ready to go.

“Team AWRD to exams?” Akko asked, raising the arm not holding a cup of black moss tea.

“To exams!” the rest cried, before they joined the droves of students filing out the dorms, and to wherever their exams were.

They headed to massive halls lined to the brim with desks; they got up on stages and before their proctors and peers; they carved out a spot for themselves in massive open areas they shared with dozens of other teams.

Pens, erasers, scratch papers, and pencils were used up, lent, broken, or lost in the blitz; presentations were given and questions were thrown back at them; machines were examined, repaired, or taken apart then put back together again.

Akko sweated and panicked at the blank spaces and pages on her test papers. Ruby flubbed a question that was far from any of the ones they’d rehearsed for. Diana got her fingers stuck in their “Useless Machine” project for Gen-Mech, Weiss was hit in the face with a wayward nut in her attempts to free her.

But still, they survived each their exams, if not feeling confident that they’d aced it, then at least that they had passed, or hadn’t failed that badly.

Finally, 6 PM Friday night, down in a tent in lower Mistral, team AWRD’s exams were finally over, Ruby pulling off her headset and waving at her teammates as they victoriously rode in on the back of a rickshaw, waving three digital trackers in their hands, their lights glowing bright green.

“Great job, AWRD!” Professor Nelson said as they turned the devices in, Akko signed the equipment sheet. “Maybe you four didn’t even need that handicap, with how fast you got this done anyway!”

“It really rather helped that Ruby knew so many shortcuts,” Weiss said. “Even if some of them were a little… out-of-the-way.”

Nelson chuckled. “I’ve noticed, but like I said, so long as we don’t get any reports of trespassing or anything else illegal, go for it. Anyway, you four are free to go; feel free to take the rickshaws back to the elevator, or wherever else they can take you—school’s got them paid for the next hour, anyway.

“See you on Tuesday, AWRD!”

The team bade her farewell, before they all climbed into the rickshaw, and they were off to the Bakunawa to celebrate.

Note: I know I've said this before, but feedback really means a lot to me. Anything from a short "Good chapter" or a little comment on what you liked or didn't like would be really appreciated.

Next chapter's going to be team AWRD's double-date night team bonding dinner.

#dianakko #white rose #rwby #little witch academia #and the awrd goes to #fanfic

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finding--cat · 7 years

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I really can’t release this to the world without paying homage to a few people who are absolutely crucial to the reason I’m able to share The Longest Sky today.

To Marisa/@marisa-writes for being my writer-friend for 8 full years, for talking me through the trials and tribulations of writing and sharing, and for always believing in me;

To Nadia/@justnadia for reading an earlier draft and lifting my spirits about this piece, for talking me through my reservations, and for sending me photos and quotes that reminded her of the story;

To Rachel/@ramblingrachell for becoming my instant friend and volunteering so heartily to look over this huge chunk of work, for being so enthusiastic and for warming my heart every time we speak;

To Kari/@justcloseyoureyesandseee who offered me, by far, the most comprehensive constructive criticism I’ve ever received and who continues to blow me away with her thoughtfulness and intelligence;

And to Steph/@ilivemydaydreamsinmusik, in small part for teaching me weed vocabulary and fixing all my little mistakes, and in much larger part for her unending support: the encouraging cartoons reminding me to write, the music that helped to inspire the story, offering to read it again, and her general aura of coolness and kickass-ness that I aspire to embody in my own writing someday--

Thank you all so much. I hope you know how much you’ve done for me and how grateful I am to have had you be a part of this. I dedicate this to all five of you.

There are so many more of you who spoke words of encouragement to me and/or who expressed interest in what I was working on, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I hope you enjoy the product of your kindness to me!

Part I: The List

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.

Emily Brontë, from ‘Wuthering Heights’

1.1

No amount of fidgeting with the lever or pushing at the ledge with her hands will open the window. It’s only a little opening; a dated semicircular pane no bigger than the surface of her nightstand, but it’s the only way to let in fresh air. And it won’t budge.

“Just use the ceiling fan for air circulation,” Rosen suggests from the doorway. She’s armed with a box of childhood personal items curated by Mom. Ari carried the box in her second suitcase – it put her over the weight limit for the flight as it housed a stack of books from Rosen’s bookshelf, two high school yearbooks, and Polaroid pictures that once hung on a laundry line across Rosen’s bedroom wall arranged into an album. Rosen balances the heavy box on one raised knee as she wipes her sweaty brow and pushes a damp strand of chestnut hair from her face. “That’s what Jacks and I do.”

“I want to open the window,” says Ari, leaning her body weight against the pane without success. “I won’t be able to sleep without it.”

Rosen raises a brow. “Air outside’s no cooler than the air in here.”

August in West Virginia is muggy and damp, but the air conditioning in the house is on the fritz – has been since June, according to Jackson – and Ari doesn’t think she can sleep without fresh air, no matter the humidity. It would be like sleeping in a coffin. Suffocating in a stale box.

It took her an hour in the morning to fix the broken blinds in order to let the light in. She has to let the air in, too.

Rosen sighs. “We can look at it tomorrow. Jackson’s dad repainted the trim outdoors when we moved in; window’s probably painted shut now.”

Ari tries one more time to shift the pane. Without success, she slumps against the wall.

Rosen pauses, still bracing the box on her knee as she peers into the room. “When are you gonna unpack?”

Perhaps she’s confused by the suitcase on the floor that doesn’t fit in the closet or under the tiny twin bed. But the luggage is empty, all the clothes stored snugly into a small chest of drawers and personal products tucked into the drawers of the nightstand.

Ari looks up. “I already did.”

“Oh.” Rosen raises her brows. “I just thought…”

“What?”

She shrugs. “I thought you’d bring your photos, like mine. Or your textbooks – Mom says you’re trying to get into U of R for your master’s. Hell, I even thought you’d bring that ratty old lamb you used to sleep with.”

Ari blinks. For some reason, it surprises her that Mom didn’t tell Rosen about the time Ari threw Lamby away like a candy bar wrapper. It was last winter, right after Louis left and Ari moved back home to Massapequa. Mom cried when she went to take out the garbage and saw Lamby sitting amongst the refuse, his buttoned eyes staring up at her beneath a banana peel and coffee grinds.

“No,” Ari says. Her voice takes on a high and unnatural pitch in her attempt to sound sympathetic, but she has to try. Dr. Sodhi made her see how it frightened her loved ones when she acted too blasé. “I have everything I need.”

Rosen nods, though her lips purse together in a tight smile. “Okay. Just looks a little bland, that’s all.”

It does look bland, Ari notes. The room is cozy, only big enough to house a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The wall above the bed features a framed landscape photo of Sutton Lake, West Virginia, snapped in 1987 according to the print. All in all, it’s not unlike a motel room. And a motel room is not unlike Ari: impersonal and vacant, nightstand varnish peeling and wallpaper fading.

Rosen takes her box down the hallway and wishes Ari goodnight – Ari’s first of many in Tillson City, West Virginia. She’s called her parents to let them know she arrived safely. She’s made her bed with linens Rosen brought in, fresh from the laundry. She’s unpacked her scant few belongings.

This is it. The start of something new in a different state. No parents, no friends, no former flames, no therapists. Just Ari. It’s been Just Ari for a while, but now there are no pretences. Nobody to burden or inconvenience. Nobody to cast her sad smiles or give her pity hugs.

Except for Rosen.

With a gulp of stale air, Ari smoothes her palm over her shorts, feeling the list crinkle in her pocket.

Come one in the morning, Ari’s still not asleep. She tosses and turns on the unfamiliar mattress, a little bit too soft for her liking, with a sheen of sweat dusted across her upper lip. The sweltering temperature of the room isn’t lessened at all by the ceiling fan, which rocks back and forth as it spins and squeaks like it’s on its last legs.

She needs air. She needs it to breathe.

Ari cringes when the hardwood creaks on her way down the stairs, freezing in place in fear of waking Rosen and Jackson. After several seconds, when no sign of movement or change in breath comes from their bedroom down the hall, Ari steels herself and continues down the stairs in a flurry, with stealthy, cat-like steps.

She hasn’t had a chance yet to peer in the garage, though Jackson proudly told her that’s where he intends to store his Harley once he gets his license. She uses the light of her phone to guide her out the front door and across the driveway to the garage. The garage door is new and slides up easily with a quick twist of the latch, though the rest of the structure is so old it seems tilted to its side.

Her light comes in handy again while searching the garage. Rosen and Jackson use it for storage rather than parking space, as is apparent by the couch and dining room table covered in a tarp, all its chairs hanging upside down from the table’s surface. They dragged a U-Haul behind their little Honda from New York full of furniture from their apartment, but the Hawleys had even more to give when they arrived and the garage is where most of it ended up.

Ari climbs over a microwave stand and nearly knocks a floor lamp to the ground, but she makes it to the ladder leaning up against the wall. With a great deal of struggle but very little noise, Ari drags the full ladder out of the garage and onto the driveway. Then she stands it on its feet, rung by rung, and leans it against the side of the house.

She shines the light of her cell phone toward the second storey window. It’s a long way up to the sky, and probably not advised to ascend to the second floor in total darkness. But Ari has to feel the fresh air sweep past her in order to sleep. And what’s more, she can do this.

After steadying the ladder against the house and testing its sturdiness, Ari begins to climb. On the third rung, her foot slips – just for a moment – but it’s enough to encourage her to tuck her phone back into the drawstring of her pajama shorts, using only the light of the moon to guide her.

It’s so dark here. Even on Long Island, city lights brighten the streets at night, casting the sky grey instead of black. In the middle of West Virginia, Ari can look up to the sky and see stars.

Stars, motherfucker, she thinks triumphantly to herself, which nearly causes another ladder accident. With regained footing, she blinks to adjust her eyes to the darkness and continues to climb.

Mom and Dad registered Ari and Rosen for ballet classes when they were young. The instructor staged five-year-old Rosen front row, centre for the final performance, and Rosen pirouetted to perfection even with a wicker basket prop in her hands. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Ari was nestled somewhere on the outskirts of the back row, fumbling with the basket caught on her tutu and ultimately spinning herself into a heap on the floor. There was no ballet class for Ari the next year.

Needless to say, Ari’s lack of balance was never quite rectified, and standing on the tenth rung of a ladder in the darkest part of the night while using her cell phone as a flashlight with one hand and her other hand digging in her pajama pocket for an Exact-o knife puts her well outside the boundaries of her comfort zone.

Then again, Dr. Sodhi suggested more than once that venturing outside her comfort zone could offer opportunity and renewal. That’s what the temporary move to Tillson City is about, after all – separation from the comfort zone. At least, that’s what it means to Ari – to Rosen, it means a helping hand to assist with wedding preparations.

Using the Exact-o knife, Ari applies pressure to the trim, cutting around the ledge where it’s been painted over. The navy-coloured trim doesn’t help with visibility, and she may accidentally cause a few scratches and scrapes during the process, but she figures neither Rosen nor Jackson is likely to haul themselves up here anytime soon to get a close look at the damage.

Her knees shake only once, and she retracts the knife before slowly bending down to grab hold of the ladder to steady her balance. Whoever needed ballet?

With the window trim carved to her liking, Ari slides the blade of the knife underneath the bottom of the window and tries to pry it open using leverage. She’s able to wiggle it around, and with a small crack, she feels it budge. Once she slowly maneuvers the window toward her, she can slide a finger underneath and pull it open the rest of the way, though not without nearly knocking herself in the face first.

And that’s it. She did it.

She climbs down the ladder with more enthusiasm than she had when climbing up. She skips the last rung and hops to the ground, blowing upward to get the hair out of her eyes as she fixes her hands on her hips and stares up at progress. An open window: a doorway to the summer breeze and the song of the birds.

She did that.

Back in her new bedroom, Ari picks up her denim shorts, folded carefully across the top of the dresser, and digs into the front pocket. She removes a crumped piece of paper and unfolds it slowly, wary of tearing the edges. The paper flattens when it’s pressed against the wall, though its creases have been fixtures for weeks now. She uses Scotch tape to adhere it above the light switch. A central location, one she’ll be forced to look at every day.

Mom and Dad knew about the list. They thought it was advice from Dr. Sodhi that Ari was taking to heart.

But it’s not. It’s Ari’s idea. All the ideas on the list are hers. And she is the one who abides by it diligently, her own code to living, because if she doesn’t – if she strays from that self-imposed path – she could go back to Before.

Tillson City is not the place for Before. Tillson City is not the place for After, either. No, Tillson City is very specifically a place for Now.

In the morning, Ari wakes to the sun shining through the small window. The room is still hot, but at least it’s not a stale, muggy heat. She could bask in it for hours if she wanted to. But after a few blinks when her vision comes into focus, she eyes the list taped to the wall.

And she gets up.

She joins Rosen in the kitchen while throwing her uncombed hair into a ponytail, the laces of her gym shoes untied. As Rosen whirls around with a smile, Ari takes a seat at the kitchen table and leans over to take care of her shoes.

“How many eggs? Two or three?” Rosen asks. “Jacks always asks for bacon and eggs on Sundays. Pancakes are on Saturdays – sorry, you missed that one yesterday.”

“Oh.” Ari straightens. “I was just going to eat something small. Maybe a banana. I’m thinking of exploring the area a bit.”

“A banana? What are you, a monkey? That’s not enough,” Rosen counters.

Ari tries to hide her smile. “You sound like Grandma.”

“Well, she’s right. At least have one pancake.”

Ari sighs.

“And I was gonna take you around today. I’ll show you all the local digs – well, the ones that matter, anyway – and we can check out a couple of vendors for the wedding. If we have time, maybe we can go to Charleston so I can stock up the freezer.”

“Charleston? Isn’t that an hour away?”

Rosen shrugs. “Forty minutes or so. Drive’s not too bad.”

“You drive forty minutes to do your grocery shopping? There’s nowhere close by?”

“There’s the Piggly Wiggly in town, but it’s small. Kroger’s in Charleston’s much better, I think. Don’t tell Jacks, though; he’s sensitive about that kind of stuff. Wants to inject into the Tillson City economy as much as we can. But I feel like I’ve been pretty generous to the local economy in planning the wedding so far, so I don’t mind taking my business elsewhere once in a while.” Rosen finishes whisking the eggs and turns back to the stove, where a pan sizzles with meat and grease. Over her shoulder, she asks, “How many strips of bacon did you say you wanted?”

“None,” Ari replies. More hesitantly, she adds, “I don’t eat meat anymore.”

If there was a record player in the room, now would be when the music came to a grinding halt. Rosen stops stirring and freezes, only her pupils moving as they dart toward Ari. “You don’t eat meat anymore? Like, all meat?”

“All meat.”

From Rosen’s throat bursts a laugh Ari’s never heard from her before: it’s short, harsh, guttural. “Since when?”

“Since three months ago.”

“What?”

A beat passes, and Ari calmly repeats, “Since three months ago.”

“So, like… not for that long.”

Ari shrugs. “I guess not.”

“So…” Rosen struggles to reason, “it’s not like it’s a long term thing.”

“I plan for it to be,” Ari says slowly, “if it goes well. So far, I like how I feel. I’d prefer not to eat meat.”

Once chatting eagerly about her plans for the day, Rosen now regards Ari across the kitchen with an arched brow of skepticism. Then she returns her gaze to the stove, using tongs to flip strips of bacon in the pan, as she mutters, “You didn’t tell us you didn’t eat meat.”

Jackson enters the kitchen in a pair of pajama pants and a rumpled white t-shirt, stopping mid-yawn to observe the exchange between the sisters. His dark hair sticks up in almost every direction, curling well past his ears and down the back of his neck, and Ari half expects Rosen to go after him again about cutting his hair to a reasonable length for the wedding.

But she doesn’t – her stare is fixed on Ari.

“Sorry.” Ari avoids Jackson’s gaze as she finishes tying the knot on her shoe and lets it fall from the chair to the floor. “I didn’t think it would come up too often. I thought I’d mostly be making my own food.”

“You thought I’d make meals for me and Jacks, but not think about you?” Rosen’s face scrunches in disbelief.

“No, I just… you don’t cook,” Ari admits. Rosen exhales sharply, blinking as if she misheard, and Ari quickly adds, “At least as far as I remember. I thought I’d be doing my own thing most of the time.”

“Uh… okay.” Clearly upset, Rosen gestures to the bacon and eggs heating on the stove. “You’re right, I guess I don’t cook.”

“I didn’t know,” Ari says with a shrug. Her last memory of Rosen attempting to cook in their family home in Long Island, she burned the rice, confused hoisin with soy sauce, and severely undercooked the chicken. It was a miserable stir-fry to swallow and resulted in the Pate family fighting each other for access to the house’s two bathrooms to be sick with food poisoning throughout the night. After that, Rosen declared she was no good at cooking and would rather spend her time outside of the kitchen. “If you’re cooking more now, that’s great.”

“Well, if you won’t eat what I cook, then I guess I don’t cook so much anymore.” Rosen waves a hand through the air.

“I don’t mean for you to have to change anything,” Ari stresses with a huff. “Eat what you want. I’ll fend for myself.”

“We have a tiny enough kitchen as it is without three of us trying to make two separate meals.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done, obviously,” Ari fires back. “I’m not doing this to inconvenience you, Rosen, I—”

“It’s fine.” Jackson inserts himself into the discussion with a nod to Ari. He has a hand on Rosen’s forearm before she can raise it to point a finger. “Rosie. Hey. It’ll be fine, all right? We can all eat together; Ari just won’t eat the meat. We can cook everything separate. Not a big deal.”

Rosen fixes her stare on Ari for another couple of seconds before Jackson’s touch reminds her he’s there. She glances at him and dons a soft smile of gratitude. “Fine. Not a big deal.” Before she returns to the eggs and bacon, she mumbles under her breath with arched brows, “Just wish you’d told us, that’s all.”

Dear Ms. Ariana Pate, We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission to the Master’s program in Biology at the University of Rochester. Each year, we receive a large number of applications for this program from highly qualified candidates. Based on a composite of information including your academic performance record, comments from referees, relevant professional activities, and proposed research statements, your application, considered as a whole, was not as strong as others we received. Though we regret delivering you an unfavorable response, we wish you—

“I said, do you want me to take you around the Hawley house? Ari!”

“What? Whoa!” Ari looks up from her phone to a churning flip in her stomach as Rosen takes a quick turn around the winding West Virginia road. She grabs onto the handle, abandoning the phone in her lap.

“It’s beautiful there – they’ve got a wraparound porch with white pillars, wooden boxes of impatiens on window ledges and everything. True Southern charm. We’re actually thinking of having the rehearsal dinner there. Well, we’re about ninety percent certain, it just seems a bit much to have the wedding reception next door in the barn, too.”

Ari gulps, her head rushing as the car whips around another curve. “What?”

“Jackson,” Rosen declares, ripping her eyes from the road to spare Ari a harsh look. “His family home here in Tillson City. I said: do you want to go?”

Ari shuts her eyes. The world keeps spinning. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want to see it or not?”

“Uh… if you want me to, I guess.”

At her sister’s sigh of annoyance, Ari knows Rosen’s lost her patience with her. Ari’s been distant all day, ever since that final email came in from U of R. It was her last hope – and a long shot, at that – but the deflation she feels is proof that somewhere within her, perhaps just beneath her skin and ready to escape, there still existed some form of hope. Now that it’s gone, the numbness remains.

Everyone promised Ari the lush, rolling hills of West Virginia were the most breathtaking sight her eyes would ever behold. Breathe in the clean air, they said. Open your eyes to nature, they said. You’ll feel your mind and body heal instantly. Old gaping wounds will stitch back together. Aches and pains will dissolve like morning dew in the sun. You’ll stand taller. Raise your chin higher. Feel like a real, human person again. That’s what they said.

Well, they were fucking wrong. As Ari hunches over in her seat and bile rises in her throat, she bitterly thinks that no one bothered to mention the sharp, winding roads and the constant uphill-downhill travel. Rosen’s pointed out the quaint details of Tillson City as they’ve passed by during the day: a charming red farmhouse over here, hunter green woodlands over there, yellow deer crossing signs because they graze everywhere in the winter – but Ari couldn’t follow her gestures, and now she’s on the precipice of very real vomit spilling from her throat all over Rosen’s beige, ancient Honda she lovingly calls Old Man Earl.

“You don’t have an opinion?” says Rosen, unimpressed. “If you want to stop hanging out with me so badly, might as well just say it.”

After a full day of tagging along on Rosen’s errands, passively accompanying her to pick up Jackson’s blazers from the dry cleaner’s and meet a woman from Craigslist one county over to purchase secondhand lanterns to create do-it-yourself centerpieces for the wedding, Ari feels the kind of heaviness that only follows unproductivity; an exhaustion born from listlessness. The kind that sinks into her bones and drags her to the ground.

Staring straight ahead and not sparing her sister a glance, Ari calmly replies, “I’m just tired. But if you want to go to Jackson’s parents’ place, that’s fine.”

“I don’t need to,” Rosen stresses, “I just wanted to show it to you. But if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Ari sighs, long and deep. “Let’s go. I want to see it.”

Her enthusiasm is lackluster at best, but Ari thinks she’s being conciliatory until she catches Rosen’s expression out of the corner of her eye: solemn, pained.

“Sorry,” Ari offers. The word comes out in monotone even though she drummed up all the sympathy she had.

“You know, it wasn’t Mom or Dad who suggested you come out here to stay with me and Jacks until the wedding,” Rosen says.

“I know.”

“It was me.”

Eyes fixed on the flat stretch of road ahead, Ari nods.

“When Mom called me after your accident, I was so scared. She said you were fine, probably wouldn’t even need to stay in the hospital overnight, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Jacks had to come in and take over the call for me; I couldn’t even talk. I knew things had been bad for a while, Ari, but that night it finally hit me… I realized I could lose you.”

The road whips by, fields of yellow and green. “Rosen…”

“I know we haven’t been close lately. Not since I met Jackson and you moved in with Lou and everything just got… busy. And I didn’t realize that I missed you until that night – until the night I learned I could have lost you forever. So I called Mom first thing the next morning and I told her, when Ari’s ready, I want her to come here. I want her to get away from all that shit in the city and all the people who fucked her over and just… start over. Reset. Tillson City’s not much, but it’s a good place for that.”

Running her tongue along her front teeth, Ari nods.

“It wasn’t just about you,” Rosen’s quick to add. “I wish I could say it was. I wish I could be that selfless, but I’m not. It was about me, too. I wanted you here with me. I wanted to get to know you again. I wanted to be close with you again, like when we were kids. When we had each other’s backs and we told each other everything.” As the car slows in front of a long driveway lined with a canopy of trees, Rosen turns on her blinker and pulls off to the side of the road. She glances at Ari. “I know you’ve been lonely. And, I mean, I’m getting used to a new town, to a new way of life… it’s nice to have someone familiar with me who knows where I’m from. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugs, offering a soft smile as she pushes her side bangs behind her ear. “I think we’re supposed to be together right now. I think we need to help each other.”

Mustering a small grin, Ari reaches across the console to pat Rosen’s hand. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can try.”

Rosen’s eyes brighten, but she’s careful not to display too much emotion. She pokes her thumb in the direction of the driveway and says, “This is the Hawley place.”

Ari leans forward to examine the surroundings, though the house is covered by such thick forest it’s impossible to see beyond a bit of evergreen trim.

Sitting back in her seat, she says, “Looks pretty impressive. Let’s check it out.”

The Tillson City economy isn’t exactly booming. Originally a coal mining town, the population spiked following the first World War and then slowly trickled down beginning in the eighties as the country relied increasingly on alternate fuel sources. These days, a good portion of its residents – Jackson included – work outside of town.

“New businesses are pretty rare,” Rosen tells Ari as they wander downtown on a Wednesday morning, “and if one opens, it usually closes shop within six months.”

That’s why, she explains, she wants to scope out the newly established Kalene’s Garden, across the street from a business called Sherman’s that Rosen claims is Jackson’s friends’ ‘favourite piss-stained hole-in-the-wall dive bar.’

There are plenty of florists in Charleston, forty-five minutes down the road in Kanawha County, but Jackson wants the wedding arrangements to be local, both to benefit the rural economy and to eliminate stress and unpredictability. Kalene’s Garden, according to Rosen, opened only last year after the owner’s husband was dishonourably discharged from the U.S. army and fled the state, leaving her with two young kids and a mortgage.

“I figure she’ll need our money,” Rosen tells Ari with a smile, “so she’ll give me whatever I want for the wedding.”

A little bell jingles overhead as they enter the shop. If possible, it’s even more humid inside than out, but Rosen is the only one who complains. Ari’s immediately taken by the hanging plants in every corner, long vines spilling out from pots and tangling underneath, bright bouquets of lilies and bluebells crowding the counters, and the line of small potted trees leading to what Ari believes to be a greenhouse. In the air is a scent so fresh and sweet that Ari could bottle it. In fact, she finds the whole place charming and serene, even more so because they’re the shop’s only customers.

They’re directed to a small, cluttered office off to the side, where a petite woman in rounded glasses named Sherry presents them with a binder of wedding fodder. Rosen prattles off the details that Ari’s heard over group text or phone or in person a thousand times – the wedding is December sixteenth, to be held in Jackson’s family church, and the bridesmaids are wearing taupe – and she’s looking for the perfect wintry centerpieces to compliment her DIY lanterns and the perfect bridal bouquet, frosty yet soft.

When they get stuck on whether white roses are too bridal or not bridal enough is when they lose Ari completely. She removes herself from the room without either woman batting an eyelash in her direction. Then she roams the shop by herself and finds a small table of succulents that captures her attention longer than any bridal discussion ever could.

Tiny little succulents, unassuming shadows in the background, will outlive all of their floral counterparts. In the right soil, their roots flourish, widening and stretching to absorb the most amount of water in a flood. In a drought, the water storage in their roots is what helps them survive. Ari likes that about them, these smart little plants. They’re planners who take care of themselves, always stockpiled in the event of a waterless apocalypse. Dr. Sodhi kept one in her office, and Ari often stared at it when she went in there and was expected to speak. No matter how she fluctuated up and down, Dr. Sodhi’s succulent was always the same.

“Lookin’ for a friend?”

Ari gasps at the sudden voice, spinning around to face its owner. A woman in a sleeveless white blouse waters a ficus near the cash register. Her lips curl into a small smile, her tight black curls framing high cheekbones.

“Um… my sister’s in the office talking to Sherry about wedding bouquets,” Ari explains.

“What about you?”

“Just browsing.”

“Lookin’ for a friend?” the woman repeats.

Ari blinks. Does she really look that lost and lonely? Her eyes dart around the room before returning to the woman’s sharp face, and she replies tentatively, “Are you… offering?”

The woman laughs heartily, without mocking or scorn. She sets down her watering can and joins Ari at the circular table. “They are friends to us, you know,” she says, grazing her index finger across the top of thick succulent leaves. “Plants of all kinds, really, but succulents especially – they’re so versatile, so adaptable. People can rely on them. They fill a room with company even if a person lives alone.”

“Yeah,” Ari murmurs. Her eyes follow the woman’s long, nimble fingers as she spreads tiny pebbles in the soil surrounding the succulents. “So, um… how many friends do you have?”

The woman chuckles again, deep and warm in her throat. “Well, this is my shop,” she answers, “so I s’pose you could say I’m never without.”

While Rosen leaves the shop that day armed with several printouts and magazines to flip through, Ari pays $3.99 in change for a mini foxtail agave, leaves a brilliant green and opening like a flower. When she gets home, she finds it a nice, heated spot on her window ledge where it can bask in the humidity right under the sun. She spends a long time watching it there. It doesn’t grow, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t move. Maybe it feels that it’s stuck with her for good.

Either way, Ari gives it a couple of tablespoons of water to drink, gently touches its leaves, and mentally ticks off a box on the list above her light switch: Take care of a plant.

A few days later, Rosen is abuzz with excitement because her wedding dress, shipped from Manhattan, is ready for its first fitting with a seamstress in Charleston. When Ari agrees to accompany her as Maid of Honour, Rosen decides they should make a day of it. She packs water bottles in the cup holders of Old Man Earl and loads snacks in her purse as if they’re on a true cross-country voyage instead of spending less time in the car than Ari has spent travelling six blocks in Midtown during rush hour.

But it’s nice that Rosen’s excited about it, and truthfully, Ari doesn’t have anything else to do. They cross a wide bridge to enter the city, and as Ari looks out the window and stares down to the water below, she feels it’s almost like re-entering New York. Almost.

She hasn’t lived in Tillson City for much more than a week, but already she feels overwhelmed by the amount of people outdoors and the number of cars on the road in Charleston. It’s a glamorous riverfront metropolis in comparison to the arid and mountainous Tillson City. It has a movie theatre and a mall and food trucks and an actual skyline – albeit a pathetic one. Adorable, not pathetic, Ari corrects herself.

The sisters wander through the Historic District, where Rosen points out the white-pillared colonial homes that seem to be the inspiration for the Hawley family home back in Tillson City. According to Rosen, she and Jackson aspire to build the same kind of home –“not until after we’ve had two kids, though, or at least not until I’m pregnant with our second”– and they ogle at the beauty of a downtown core embedded in an awning of leafy trees. Ari extends their walk several blocks, despite Rosen’s complaints, in order to log a full ten thousand steps for the day.

They drive to the only mall in town – in fact, the only mall Rosen knows of – and Ari picks out a new pair of yoga pants that are stretchy and cheap, but good enough to get the job done. Rosen finds two cushion covers in JC Penney that perfectly complement the living room set, so they both leave the mall in good spirits.

It’s as they sit on a patio along the waterfront, Ari with an ice water and Rosen with a white wine spritzer, that their pleasant outing turns sour. Ari is content to people-watch along the boardwalk, amused by the amount of people clothed in apparel from West Virginia University – “Take Me Home” and “Forever a Mountaineer” splashed across their chests and the WVU logo embroidered on their ball caps – but Rosen’s got wedding fever and has a hankering to discuss the design for the invitations.

“I don’t really get why wedding invitations are such a huge thing when I could just send out a mass email to all my guests and have their replies instantly,” Rosen muses, scrolling through samples on her phone. “But whatever, they’re pretty.”

“So if the designer gives you his final copy by Thursday and the invitations are printed by Labour Day weekend, when will you send them out?”

“Two months before the wedding,” Rosen answers robotically, having planned these details down to the minutiae. “The deadline to RSVP is two weeks from the wedding date to get the final numbers to the caterers. They’re upset that we’re pushing it that close, actually, since the kitchen at Jacks’ parents’ place is limited and they need to know in advance if they need to rent extra prep space.”

“Why not ask everyone to email you their reply rather than send it back through snail mail?”

“Well, Grandma doesn’t use email,” Rosen points out.

Ari rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure Mom and Dad would send along her RSVP.”

“This is the way wedding invitations are done.”

“Yeah, but people set up wedding websites these days to cut printing costs on RSVP cards and postage. Receiving replies by email would make it so much more efficient and environmentally friendly—”

“The invites are already pretty set in stone,” Rosen cuts her off, adding matter-of-factly, “so.”

Ari shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “All right.”

Rosen takes Ari’s recoil as invitation to lean forward, ensuring the space between them isn’t compromised by an inch. “What about my bachelorette?” she asks with a sly grin.

Eyes on a middle-aged woman lovingly feeding her partner a corn dog with all the high cholesterol fixings, Ari takes a large swig of water and then deigns Rosen a glance. “What about it?”

“What have you planned?”

“I thought it was a secret for the bride.”

“Yeah, but you eventually have to let me know the date, and what I should wear, and if I need to bring pajamas and a toothbrush…”

“Oh.” Ari takes another sip of water, knowing full well that her prolonged silence drives Rosen up the wall. “I’ll let you know, then. So far I’ve only seen that one bar in Tillson City – Sherman’s, I think? – so I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise.”

Rosen’s spine stiffens as she straightens in her chair, brows turning downward. “Tillson City? My bachelorette is in Manhattan.”

“What?”

“I told you in April that when you plan my bachelorette, plan it in Manhattan.”

“But I thought the bachelorette party took place a week before the wedding.”

“It does.”

“And I thought, with you living here and all the guests travelling here, it might be less stressful to just… have it here.” Ari finishes slowly, the last few words quiet as the creases in Rosen’s forehead plateau into valleys.

“But all my friends are in New York…” Rosen trails.

“You said you had friends here.”

“Those are Jackson’s friends.”

“You said they were your friends, too.”

“Ari!” cries Rosen, her knee jerking into the table and causing two elderly women nearby to look over in shock. “Obviously I want the rest of my bridal party to be at my bachelorette, and the rest of my bridesmaids live in the city. And I want to go to a strip club, like I told you, and I want to do that bachelorette bingo game I sent you that just can’t do in a small town where everybody knows everybody.”

“What game?”

She huffs. “I sent it to you. It’s from Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ari sips on her water even though her thirst is thoroughly quenched. “I haven’t had the time to look at it yet.”

“You haven’t had time.” Rosen repeats this in monotone, her voice dangerously low.

“No.”

Rosen smacks her lips together. “But you don’t do anything. How can you run out of time when literally nothing is on your schedule?”

Ari pales, but quickly gulps down the sting. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Nobody would understand! That makes no sense. Honestly, Ari, I gave you this responsibility, like, three months ago, and so far you haven’t done a single thing, which is like…”

Rosen trails off, too frustrated to continue. Ari shouldn’t prompt her, but she can’t help it. “What? It’s like what?”

When Rosen’s eyes lock with hers, they’re hardened and sad. “Do you even want to be a part of my wedding?”

The stare of the elderly ladies one table over fix on her again. Under the spotlight, all Ari can do is nibble on her lower lip.

“Everybody cares about you,” Rosen says, softer now. “I can’t have a conversation with Mom or Grandma without you coming up, even when it’s about my wedding. It’s all Ari’s acting like this or Ari’s off Zoloft again and we all brainstorm ways to help you. God, I even asked you to move out here with me! But you have to do something sometime, Ari. Sitting around waiting for something to happen to you – that’s stupid. Get a job, go on a date, plan my bachelorette! Whether it’s for yourself or for someone else, just do something.”

Ari doesn’t reply.

Dr. Sodhi once told her that in situations where she feels so misunderstood she doesn’t know where to begin, it’s sometimes best to let the yeller do the yelling and not say anything at all.

Ari’s alarm sounds at precisely 7:30 a.m. She spends five minutes listening to the gentle rustling in the house: footsteps up and down the stairs, the coffee grinder buzzing in the kitchen.

Must go on a hike. Hiking today. Today is about hiking.

Focused repeats of the day’s purpose help her throw off the covers and sit up. It’s easier to get out of bed this way. It’s easier than it used to be, anyway. Ari squeezes her eyes shut to forget the days she’d get out of bed at four in the afternoon, showering in just enough time before Louis got home to spare herself his groaning about how she’d done nothing since he’d left for work in the morning.

She uses a small spray bottle to spritz her succulent, just enough until its leaves are dewy and hydrated. It basks in the sun, and Ari imagines that if it had a face, that face would be smiling.

When she descends the stairs, Jackson is hopping into the car on his way to work with Rosen sending him off at the door. It’s enough time for Ari to slip around the corner unnoticed to pour a quart of water into her bottle from a pitcher in the fridge. She refills the pitcher with water from the faucet and is halfway through her water bottle when Rosen enters in her fluffy bathrobe, wisps of hair sticking out of her messy ponytail.

“How do you not get sick chugging that much water on an empty stomach?” she asks, upper lip curling in revulsion.

“It kickstarts my system,” Ari replies after a loud gulp. She stands with a hand on her hip. “Flushes out toxins. Improves blood flow to my brain, keeps me in a good mood.”

Standing stock still, Rosen uncurls her lip but says with a shrug, “Whatever.”

“You should try it.”

“Not interested.” She pointedly moves across the kitchen to the hot pot of coffee left for her by Jackson. “Two cups of Joe is what mama needs.”

Ari doesn’t bother arguing. She finishes the rest of her water bottle while Rosen pours herself a steaming mug of coffee, and then she turns her attention to the weather. It’s a beautiful summer day, eighty degrees and clear. Ari’s wandered the neighbourhood and figured out the roads close to home, but she hasn’t tried any of the woodland trails yet. She aches to be sheltered by a rooftop of trees, golden rays poking through the leaves.

Plenty of sunlight. That’s an item on her list, and she should start paying more attention to it while the August sun is still here.

“Do you want to hike with me?” she asks Rosen. “I think I’m gonna go through the forest at the end of the road. Jackson said it’s a nice walk.”

“Um…” Rosen trails, focused on pouring the milk, “what time?”

“Ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ari suggests.

“Oh. Then no.”

Ari’s shoulders slump. “We could go later this morning if you want.”

“I have those paint samples from Benjamin Moore to try on the bedroom walls,” Rosen replies with a cavalier shrug.

“This afternoon, then?”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to find a swatch that I like and then go back to the store to get them to mix it.” She looks to Ari with a gasp, stumbling upon a great idea. “You should come!”

“To Madison?”

“If they have the paint colour I want. Wanna come?”

Ari definitely didn’t coax herself out of bed this morning to sample paint chips. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What do you mean? What else are you doing?”

“Hiking.”

“You said you were gonna do that now.”

“I was trying to find a time we could go together!” Ari speaks through a laugh, though her lips don’t curve into a smile. “Sorry – backing up – are you interested in a hike or not?”

“Not,” Rosen says simply.

“Fine. That’s all you had to say.” Ari refills her water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge, adding on her way out, “See you later, then.”

Ari packs a couple of snacks for her hike and stays outdoors until early afternoon, when her quads ache in the most accomplished way from the uneven terrain on the hills. After she showers, Rosen has only just begun to swatch paint samples on the walls of the bedroom she shares with Jackson, so Ari lets herself out onto the back patio, barefoot, and finds herself dialling home. Nobody picks up.

It’s a couple of minutes before her cell rings, Home alight on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ari, hi,” gushes Ana Pate. “I heard the phone ring but I was outside watering the plants. I forgot how long it takes!”

“That’s because I always do it for you.”

“I know. You do my weeding, too. I’m missing that.”

“That’s what you miss, huh?” Ari says dryly.

Ana chuckles. “Of course not. Miss everything about you. How are things going? Rosen says you’re developing a routine.”

“Yeah.” Ari stretches her legs in the sun and tries to ignore the icky feeling that Rosen’s been speaking to their mother about Ari’s schedule. “I’ve been doing okay. Keeping consistent, I guess. Which is good – for me, at least.”

“For anybody,” Ana insists. Ari’s not quite so sure.

“How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, fine. He’s out right now picking up a few things for dinner. I’m sure that man will come back with a steak even though I told him no red meat until the wedding. Do you know how much it costs?”

“Red meat or the wedding?”

“Both. We’re on a diet, both of us. At least until the cheque’s cleared.”

“Hmm, yeah. It’s all about Rosen’s wedding.” Ari cringes, instantly aware that her attempt to sound lighthearted has miserably failed.

“Well, it is exciting. And just remember: she’ll be excited for you, too, when the time comes.”

Ari clears her throat. She has to hear enough about the fucking wedding now that she’s living with Rosen full time.

“So, um… has any mail come for me?”

“Mail? You mean like a letter?”

“Yeah. Maybe yesterday or late last week?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a credit card bill. Why?”

“Nothing,” Ari says quickly. To Ana’s expectant silence, she caves. “I was hoping to hear back from Fordham about that continuing education course.”

“Oh, honey. This late in the summer?”

“Yeah.” Ari casts her eyes down. “It was a long shot, I guess.”

“Well…” Ana sighs – a sigh Ari knows far too well. A sigh of sympathy, of sadness, of surrender. And Mom only uses it with her. “It’s probably for the best, don’t you think? You don’t want to be doing too much too soon. You should rest.”

“I can’t rest, Mom,” Ari says. “I can’t just do nothing anymore. I need to be busy; I need to keep my mind active.”

“You need to heal,” Ana says firmly. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mind needs a break.”

“I need to have purpose,” Ari insists. “Otherwise, I—I’ll sink into that dark place again.”

Another sigh. Then Ana says, “Well, I’m sure Rosen will keep you busy the next couple of months with the wedding. That should help.”

Ari rolls her eyes. “You might be shocked to learn that devoting my life to her wedding doesn’t exactly give me a lot of purpose.”

“Oh, Ari!” Ana snaps. “You have purpose, and you know that. That’s what you and Dr. Sodhi spent so long talking about. I’m sorry you didn’t get into a school this term, but I have to be honest, I really don’t think that’s what you should be focusing on right now. I don’t want you to get bogged down in an intensive program that you’re not as interested in as you thought you might be. If you go back to school, it should be because you have something in particular you want to study, not because you want to keep yourself busy. That’s running from your problems, honey. You know better than that.”

After a long pause, Ari gulps. “That’s not what you said to Rosen when she got into NYU Law.”

“Well, those were different circumstances. Rosen had a clear path for her future.”

“Was dropping out before the end of first term part of her clear path?”

“Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t be unfair. She followed her heart. Now she and Jackson are about to get married, so I think she’s happy with her decision.”

Ari says nothing.

“You know, you are doing something meaningful,” Ana adds softly. “You’re there for your little sister when she really needs you. She’s juggling planning a wedding and becoming a homeowner in a strange new town – she’s just as overwhelmed as you are.”

At this, Ari shuts down. The ‘just as [insert adjective here] as you are’ measure of relatability is, in fact, the opposite of relatable.

But it does remind her why she’s here, six hundred miles from home and cut off from everyone she’s ever known other than immediate family. It’s not just to get a grip on herself. It’s not just to help Rosen prepare for the wedding. It’s to give her parents a break. To let them pretend, for a few months, that their daughters are both happy, healthy, functioning adults who are making progress and being independent in the world.

The truth is that they only have one of those daughters, and she’s not Ari.

In the afternoon, Ari declines Rosen’s second invitation to join her in Madison to pick up a gallon of Palm Desert paint, which is “richer than Sepia but not as dark as Café Royal”, in favour of returning to the Tillson City downtown core. She takes Jackson’s bicycle, which is a little rickety and not adjusted to her height, but it carries her safely to town. She parks outside of Kalene’s Garden, where there is not a bike rack in sight. Ari hopes against all New York City hope the bike has little chance of being stolen.

Inside, she runs across the same woman who helped Rosen with her wedding flowers.

“I remember you,” says the woman whose eyes peer over thick bifocals. “You were here for the Hawley wedding.”

“I remember you, too,” Ari says. “You’re Sherry.”

“That’s right.” The woman holds out her hand to shake over the cash register. “And what’s your name again, dear?”

“I’m Ari.”

Sherry pauses with a slight frown. “Ari? I remember Jackson Hawley’s fiancée having a floral sort of name…”

When the ladies in the Massapequa hair salon used to mix them up, Ari used to joke that she hoped they didn’t give her Rosen’s ridiculously-shaped bangs. Lightheartedness doesn’t come easily anymore, so she replies evenly, “That’s my sister, Rosen.”

“Oh, of course. Rosen! What a pretty name.”

Ari blinks. “Yeah.”

“Well, what can I do for you, dear?”

Ari slips her backpack off of her shoulders and begins to unzip it. “Actually, I was wondering if Kalene is here? I wanted to speak with her if possible. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sure she can spare a bit of time,” Sherry says with a smile. She leans over the register again to point down the aisle. “She’s just in the office. She won’t mind if you give a knock on the door.”

Ari thanks her, but still she approaches the office on light feet, wary of disturbing the peace. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want Kalene to think she’s entitled or overbearing. She should just go home. She should just save everyone the grief.

She knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Knuckles white, Ari pushes open the door and sticks her head inside. When she spies Kalene at the desk, her hair tamed in a low bun and her ruffled military green blouse complimenting her skintone, she pastes a smile on her face. Even when she spots a toddler seated on the floor with building blocks surrounding him, Ari can’t hide her smile.

Kalene holds up her head, her impossibly long neck elegant and straight. “You’re back,” she says warmly.

“Yeah—yes,” Ari stammers. She clutches the papers in her hand, certainly creasing them but too nervous to care. “I can come back, though, if this is a bad time—”

“Come on in. Take a seat.”

Ari obeys, lightly closing the door behind her. The office is humid, a little box of a room stuffed with binders and papers, a computer, and potted plants on every surface: the desk, the bookshelf, the window ledge. There’s just enough room on the floor for the toddler – a little boy, no more than a year old – and his small lunchbox full of toys.

“This is Mekhi,” she says, gesturing to the boy, “my youngest.” She reaches out to pet the back of his head. “Sometimes he comes with me to work when his auntie falls through on babysitting – don’t you, Mekhi? Hmm?”

He stares up at his mother adoringly, wooden block in his mouth and molten brown eyes blown wide.

“He’s adorable,” Ari says with a laugh, “and very good at building blocks.”

“The civil engineer of the family,” Kalene jokes. “So,” she continues, closing the binder in front of her, “what brings you back?”

Ari sucks in a breath, and just as promptly exhales. “I just—um,” she starts, glancing down at the resume in her hands, “I have a—I wanted to ask if you…”

She shakes her head, inwardly cringing. With another short breath, she looks up.

“I was looking for a friend,” she blurts out, “the other day, when you asked. I’m looking for a lot of things, I think.”

She pauses, wincing at Kalene’s possible reaction, but the woman is straight-faced, listening intently, and scrutinizing Ari with a thoughtful expression.

So she goes on, “I make myself these roadmaps—lists, really—to help me get through each day, but they don’t mark with an X what I’m searching for, so I’m really going on nothing. I realize this is really not a convincing preamble, but I just wanted to tell you that… I really like it here. In your shop. It makes me feel, um… warm? Not physically, but, like, inside of me. I feel warm when I’m here, and I feel in good company, and… that means something to me.” She hesitates. Then, swallowing her fears, she finishes, “I know what it’s like to not feel anything at all, so when I do feel something – anything – I latch onto it. I don’t want to forget it. And, um… I want to work here. Volunteer, even. If you’ll let me, even for just a few hours every week. I just want to spend time, if that’s okay.”

When Ari takes a breath, Kalene is smiling again. Maybe it’s not the shop, but Kalene herself who emanates warmth.

That’s a new thought. Ari hasn’t felt warmth from another human since Louis, and that was long, long ago. It was the sort of warmth that dulled over time until one day, she convinced herself she’d imagined it was ever there in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Kalene asks.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ari thrusts her resume into Kalene’s hands. “I’m Ari Pate. Rosen’s sister. She’s marrying Jackson Hawley, if that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Kalene confirms. With a quick look at the very top of Ari’s resume, Kalene promptly hands it back to her. Ari’s heart sinks. “Ariana,” she reads.

“That’s my full name, yes. Um, I—I have a degree in Molecular Biology with a minor in Environmental Science, and I know that seems heavy, but I think if you look at my experience, you’ll agree that I—”

Kalene holds up her hand, effectively sealing Ari’s lips together. “Would you like to come back tomorrow, Ariana?”

“For an interview?” Once again, Ari offers her resume.

Kalene declines. “For a training session. An orientation, let’s call it.”

Ari’s breath comes out in a gust. The blood drains from her head in a moment of surrealism. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t want to see my resume?”

“If you want me to look at it, then I will. But we’re a small shop, as you can see, and this is our passion. So it bodes well, to me, that it gives you a good feeling to be here. Those are the people I want to work with – not the ones with the most impressive resumes. At the end of the day, all those words on paper mean nothing. It’s what you put forth in action that carries weight.”

Ari nods slowly, more in awe of this beautiful woman than ever. Is she going fucking crazy, or was that the smartest thing anyone’s ever said to her?

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Count on it,” says Ari, rising to her feet. She nudges a few stray blocks at Mekhi with the tip of her sole. He reaches for one particular block and looks up at Ari with a sloppy, saliva-coated grin.

“Ten o’clock,” says Kalene, opening her binder as Ari takes her leave. “We’ll put you to work.”

Ari volunteers at Kalene’s on Wednesday and Thursday, five hours each day. Her shoulder-length hair curls and frizzes in the humid shop, and for the first time, that’s the biggest of her concerns. Kalene shows her how to water the irises in the plant basket, and in return, Ari tells Kalene what she knows about the structural biology of roses.

By Thursday night, though her thighs hurt from crouching to tend to the plants, Ari feels satisfied to near delirium. She’s come home with two new succulents: a beautiful kiwi aeonium with deep pink, outlined leaves, and one called a jelly bean, whose leaves look like just that. She arranges them next to the foxtail on her window and admires them with pride. Pride – a swell in her chest she’s not felt since that A in organic chemistry in junior year, all those years ago.

When she finally leaves her room to steep a mug of sleepytime tea – for a better, more peaceful sleep, it promises – voices filter up the stairs. She descends slowly, wary of disturbing Rosen and Jackson in the living room but unable to boil water in the kitchen without passing them.

“He’s single right now; he’s probably looking for someone,” Rosen says.

“I think you’re confused. Luke doesn’t look for someone, he finds someone,” Jackson chuckles.

“So maybe he could find her.”

“It’s not a good match, Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a nice guy, he’s a longtime friend of yours, and I don’t see why it would be crazy to introduce him to Ari.”

Ari’s ears burn at the sound of her name. On high alert, she speeds her pace to the bottom of the stairs. Cuddled on the couch, Jackson and Rosen meet her eyes.

“Hey!” Rosen exclaims, using a hand on Jackson’s thigh to stabilize herself as she moves to the edge of the couch. “Great news: I ran into Jacks’ friend, Luke, in town and told him my sister was staying with me for a while. We chatted about you a bit. He seemed really interested.”

Blankly, Ari says, “Interested in what?”

“In you, of course. We thought it would be fun if you two met.”

Ari blinks. “What?”

“Tomorrow night. At Sherman’s – you know, that little dive bar downtown.”

“It’s not a dive bar,” Jackson interjects in offense.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a local establishment.”

“It’s a dive bar.”

“No, it’s a neighbourhood pub,” he argues. “The owners keep it clean, and yeah, sometimes it can get rowdy in there, but in general folks go there for a drink after the game, to listen to some live music, to socialize.”

“I still think it’s a dive bar,” Rosen says with a shrug.

Jackson rubs a palm over his forehead. “People ‘round here don’t think of it that way, so you best watch how you speak of it in front of them.” Redirecting his attention to Ari, he adds, “It’s charming, don’t worry. It’s a lot of fun there.”

“I didn’t say it’s not fun, Jackson,” Rosen snaps. “I know it’s fun; I always have fun there.”

“You mean the one time you came with me?” he deadpans.

Rosen huffs in annoyance and promptly looks away from him, maintaining eye contact with Ari. “Luke’s really great,” she gushes. “He’s been working full-time at the DMV since high school and word has it he’s got a lot saved up. He wants to buy a plot of land and fix up a house right here in town to be close to family and friends. Oh, and he was on the football team in high school with Jacks. He’s really built.”

Jackson stares expressionlessly at the back of Rosen’s head.

Ari looks from Rosen to Jackson and back to Rosen again. Rosen might very well be holding her breath until Ari gives a definitive answer, so after prolonging the torture another few seconds, Ari slowly says, “He sounds… great.”

With a triumphant exhale, Rosen shoulders slump with a satisfied smile. She softens, tipping her head to the side in that telltale display of sympathy Ari knows far too well. “It might be good for you. You and Louis broke up, like, a year ago—”

“Six months ago.”

“—and I’m sure you’ve been lonely. I mean, I know you have, and that’s why you’re here. And you’re trying all this new stuff lately, like yoga and vegetarianism and whatever, so why not try a blind date? Honest, I think you’ll have fun.”

Ari groans internally. It’s times like these when having no one who cared for her would be easier to manage – there would be no one to disappoint, no one to have to humour. Even though Rosen’s arrangement sounds like absolute misery, Ari knows she’ll still end up doing it. For Rosen. And that’s a fucking kicker.

“Can’t he come here instead?” Ari asks. “That way there’s less pressure, especially if you guys are here to help if the conversation gets slow.”

Rosen scrunches her nose, repulsed. “You don’t invite someone to your house for a blind date,” she says, as if common blind date etiquette is written in stone. “How is that less pressure? You meet in a social setting so if they turn out to be a murderer, everyone hears your screams.”

“That is comforting,” Ari says dryly.

“Okay. Rosie, stop,” Jackson says, nudging Rosen in the back. He leans forward to take control of the conversation. “Luke’s a good guy. He’s not a murderer, for Christ’s sake. He’s the one who suggested meeting at Sherman’s, so it’s probably best to follow through with that. Besides, Rosie and I are out tomorrow night – it’s Sawyer’s birthday in Charleston.”

Rosen sags with the event reminder, seemingly not too thrilled to attend the birthday celebration of Jackson’s older brother, who lives and works as a corporate lawyer in Charleston.

“Oh!” Rosen cries. “But we can drop you off on our way there!”

It’s not quite the consolation prize Ari hoped for. Her eyes shake as she fights not to let them roll. “Great.”

“So you’ll go?”

Rosen’s lips form a pleading pout. Jackson sighs in defeat. As for Ari, well, she was doomed from the moment she walked down the stairs.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Photo Credits: Anton Darius, Jesse Summers

#tls #my writing #fic #1dff #thank you for giving this a shot :)

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