#i’m nagel obsessed

[fanfic-archive]

Meeting the Baron (2/7)

Chapter 2. Madripoor

Summary: When the Baron takes your search to Madripoor, the four of you are forced to play your roles. A role that brings you much closer to Zemo than you ever thought you could be comfortable with, but is it entirely an act?

(Yes, we're doing the fake dating trope. I don't care if it's overdone, I'm obsessed)

Part 1

Word Count: 4696

Zemo had provided each of you with, what he deemed to be, appropriate disguises. Bucky’s was fairly simple, just enough to make him look like the Winter Soldier, but Sam’s suit was brighter and apparently very much the style of the Smiling Tiger, not that he was a fan. You had instantly become hesitant when you opened the package that Zemo had handed you, staring at the black dress and strappy heels in disbelief. You knew that you had to keep up appearances, the people you would be meeting only understood three things, power, money, and women. Still, how were you meant to react if something went wrong while wearing this.

Putting on the garment only made you less sure. The dress was fitted to perfection, which was curious to you since Zemo never asked for your size, and the material was soft to the touch. It ended above the knees and had thin straps over your shoulders, it was more revealing than something you would usually wear but the length kept it surprisingly classy. You actually looked like the Baron’s partner rather than a date for one night. The dress itself wasn’t that uncomfortable, just impractical since you couldn’t hide a gun under it, and you were a little surprised by how good it looked on you, but the shoes were the bigger problem, being impractical. You wouldn’t be able to rush somewhere too easily.

Once you finished getting ready, you put on the necklace that Zemo had left for you and headed back out into the main room. Of course, the Baron’s date would need to have some sort of jewellery to really sell it.

“Finally” Sam sighed when he heard the door open and close behind him, the three men turning to you.

“What? Don’t look at me like that” you complained, noticing the surprised looks on Sam and Bucky’s faces.

“Just haven’t seen you all dressed up before” Sam shrugged. “And I thought I looked overdressed” he joked.

“You look good” Bucky complimented, hoping to make you feel more comfortable.

“Thanks, Bucky” you chuckled, shaking your head at him. “But of course, you haven’t seen me in anything like this before, I’ve never had the opportunity and if I could afford all of this, I would have retired by now” you pointed out, making them both laugh a little. You made a fair point.

“I, for one, think I made a perfect choice. You look wonderful” Zemo complimented, making you all look over at him. “Are you all ready?” he asked as he approached the three of you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“We aren’t there yet, keep your hands to yourself” you reminded him.

“Apologies” he nodded, lowering his hand. “But once we get out of the car, we all need to be in character” he warned the three of you, who just nodded in understanding.

A car picked the four of you up and dropped you off just outside the meeting place, and this time when Zemo held his hand out to you, you took it and let him help you out of the car. He offered his arm to you and you took hold of his elbow, letting him lead the way, Sam and Bucky following behind.

You couldn’t decide what was worse, watching Bucky fight while pretending to be the Winter Soldier or watching Sam drink whatever it was that the bartender gave him. Both were painful, and while witnessing each you had unconsciously gripped Zemo’s arm a little tighter, and he had pulled you a little closer each time. Luckily, while at the bar, Zemo had gotten you something a little sweeter than Sam’s drink.

Finally, Selby agreed to meet with you all and you were sent through to see her, but things only got more tense.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands” Selby spoke as the four of you entered the room. She sat comfortably on one of the couches, arms draped over the back cushion, watching you all like she was trying to read you.

“Not a demand. An offer” Zemo corrected her.

“A lot has changed since you were here last” Selby claimed as Sam crossed to stand on one side of the room while Bucky positioned himself on the other. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” she asked curiously.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered as he sat down on the couch opposite her, guiding you towards him by the hand. Without speaking, he was looking you in the eyes, as if to convey the choice that he was asking you to make.

You took a small, unnoticeable breath before quickly making a decision, placing yourself comfortably on his lap. You’ve surely done worse.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for” he continued, wrapping one arm around your waist to keep you steady and placing his other gloved hand on your bare knee. An attempt to be respectful while still being convincing.

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger” Selby suddenly turned her attention to Sam, who only responded with a nod.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him-” Zemo got her attention back onto him, gesturing to Bucky, his offer to her “-along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately but tell me…would she do anything I want?” the attention was suddenly put onto you as Selby stared you down, putting you on edge. You couldn’t help but tense a little, this wasn’t part of the plan and it unsettled you.

“This one only sings for me” Zemo informed her, his hand inching up your thigh slightly to prove his point. His touch left goosebumps in its wake, which you tried your best to ignore but you were sure that he noticed it.

Knowing you had to sell this, the hand you had on his shoulder lifted to play with his hair (though, not enough to mess it up) while you placed your other hand against his chest, smiling sweetly at him. Yes, you had noticed his attractiveness before, but this was the closest you had ever been to him and the longest you had been looking at him, and it only left you admiring him a little more. Luckily, you could blame it on acting if anyone noticed. Plus, his cologne was invading your senses and you found it oddly comforting.

“That’s a shame” Selby hummed. “But you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or…condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but things didn’t go as planned” she informed him.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked but your attention turned to the hand he had returned to your knee when his thumb started stroking little circles against your skin.

“Oh. The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me” Selby shook her head in disapproval. “Maybe we could work something out if you could make your little bird sing” she suggested, eyeing you again, and you couldn’t help but lean closer to the criminal who’s lap you were sat on.

“Go on, Liebling, answer her” Zemo prompted, giving your thigh a small reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, but I only have eyes for one person” you claimed with a convincing smile, gently resting your head against Zemo’s shoulder. You would straddle his man right here in front of everyone if it meant she left you alone.

“And she is not a bargaining chip” Zemo insisted, holding onto you a little tighter, almost protectively. That brought a more genuine smile to your face.

However, when you glanced over at Selby, you could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t entirely convinced; you couldn’t tell whether she was trying to uncover your act or just find a weakness in your supposed relationship that she could exploit to get what she wanted. Your grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, trying to convey your concerns to him. It did seem to get his attention as he turned his face towards you as you lifted your head from his shoulders, resulting in your faces ending up a little closer than you expected.

Now or never. You had to sell this act if you wanted all of this to go smoothly. You lifted your hand, tracing your fingers alone his jaw as you put on your best love-struck smile. Zemo was watching you carefully, he knew what your possible moves were from here and while it surprised him, he would let you make the play.

So, you lent in closer as your fingertips reached his chin, lips hovering just over his. The hand on your knee brushed upwards, gloved fingertips touching the hem of your dress. Any longer would be suspicious, and so you closed the gap and touched your lips to his. You had made the move, you had kissed him, and so Zemo allowed himself to take the lead.

The hand on your thigh tightened as he deepened the kiss, what surprised you the most was that you returned the advancement, your hand cupping his jaw to hold him closer. You simply couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him and how this just didn’t feel as wrong as you thought it would.

While the moment felt disconnected from the others and endless, in reality it hadn’t been that long at all. And while it was beginning to feel easy to forget about where you were, you didn’t, slipping your hand down from his jaw and too his chest as you pulled away.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt you” Selby teased but she seemed to be fully convinced now. The comment put a slight blush on your face, but you figured it worked for the act, so didn’t worry about it. You still avoided looking at either Sam or Bucky, not wanting to see how they were looking at you after that little show.

Selby finally seemed to give up on getting anywhere in that deal, she wasn’t going to get her hands on you, and the conversation could continue.

As Zemo and Selby spoke, you fainlly spared a few glances at Sam and Bucky. Bucky was still in character, though he seemed even tenser than before, but Sam managed to sneak a small look in your direction that silently asked if you were okay. You gave him the smallest of nods before disguising it by resting your head against Zemo’s fur collar.

Things were going well, that was until Sam’s sister called him and your covers were blown, resulting in Selby’s death. All four of you knew that you had to get out of there as soon as possible, you had made it out of the building with no trouble and were walking down the street when people started shooting at you all, wanting to claim the bounty for Selby’s killers.

The four of you reacted the only way you could, you knew that you couldn’t fight back and win right now, so you all ran for cover. Bucky and Sam bolted ahead but Zemo had supplied you with thin heels, causing you to stumble on the uneven ground. You cursed to yourself, only to have somebody pull you off to the side. It was almost too quick for you to process but Zemo had wrapped an arm around you and pulled you along with him, in a different direction to the other two.

The two of you kept your heads down, slipping off into an alleyway before deciding that it was safe enough to slow down and speak. It seemed that the bounty hunters had mostly followed Sam and Bucky.

“I can’t believe you made me wear these stupid shoes” you complained as he guided you through the alleyways of Madripoor, he obviously knew where he was going.

“I thought they looked nice” Zemo weakly defended himself but sounded confident in his claim.

“Sure, but not so great when you’re being shot at” you scoffed.

“If your friend had turned off his phone, none of this would have happened” he pointed out but that didn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

“We better be going to find them” you warned him.

“Of course” he nodded.

When you were sure that nobody was following you, the two of you slowed down a little and focused on regrouping. You followed Zemo, your attention focusing on him when you saw him reach into his coat and pull out a handgun just in case you had been followed.

“When did you get a gun?” you asked, catching up to him and glaring up at him.

“I picked it up” he shrugged.

“Hand it over” you ordered, holding your hand out.

“No” Zemo answered as he glanced at you but kept walking.

“Yes. You’re a criminal, I’m not letting you have a gun” you stated the obvious as you came to a stop, grabbing his arm to stop him too. “Give me the gun” you demanded once more as he turned to you.

“If I don’t?” he asked, almost playfully.

“Are you…are you joking? Give me the damn gun” you thrusted your hand out towards him again.

“At least ask nicely” he chastised.

“…please?” you sighed, giving in.

This time he didn’t hesitate before placing the gun in your hand. “Very good” he praised before turning and continuing down the alley. You watched him in disbelief before continuing to follow him.

“You also didn’t warn me that it would get cold in Madripoor before parading me out here half dressed” you complained as you caught up with him again, a cool breeze blowing past you.

“I would not parade you around” Zemo stated sternly, almost like he was offended by the accusation. “And in my defence, I expected to be back in a car by now” he reminded you.

You just hummed in response, unimpressed with his excuse, while wrapping your arms around yourself for some extra warmth. The gun still in your hand since you had nowhere to put it.

“My apologies for not coming more prepared” he apologised as he came to a halt, causing you to stop too. Without another word, he slipped off his coat and held it out to you.

“Not necessary” you mumbled, shaking your head as you turned down the offer and walked past him.

As you passed him, Zemo carefully draped his coat over your shoulders. Not letting you go cold simply due to your stubbornness.

“Thank you” you still gave the Baron a small, grateful smile before slipping your arms through the sleeves, already feeling much warmer. His cologne lingered on the garment, making it all the more inviting, but you tried to ignore that feeling. Zemo returned your smile as the two of you continued navigating through the various alleyways.

Finally, you reunited with Sam and Bucky, where they had run into a familiar face. Sharon, you had heard of her but had never actually met her before. She took you to her place where you could stay for a little while, she also happened to be hosting a party of sorts that same night, so she offered to let you all change. Meaning you got to change out of the uncomfortable dress and into some black pants and a simple black top. Simple but enough to make you fit in. You had also changed out those flimsy heels for a more comfortable pair of boots.

“Ah, much better” you let out a sigh of relief as you walked into the room the others were sitting in.

“What is wrong with the dress? It looked good on you” Zemo questioned, taking in but still approving of your new look.

You gave him a sarcastic smile before realising he was the only one of you who hadn’t changed, but you guessed that he was the only one of you who was wearing his own clothes in the first place. “Are you not changing?” you asked him as you handed him his coat back.

“Should I?” he asked, gesturing to his own attire.

“…suits you” you shook your head, and you weren’t lying. He had certainly found a style that suited him.

Zemo smirked to himself as he placed the coat down and turned to pour two drinks, keeping one for himself while holding the other out for you.

“Hey, just leave her alone, alright?” Bucky warned him, obviously still on edge from your performance earlier.

You just laughed to yourself and accepted the drink, already becoming more comfortable around Zemo than you probably should be.

Sam managed to talk Sharon into helping you all out, she promised to look for information but in the meantime all you four had to do was enjoy the party.

When you joined the party, you had shared a drink with Sam and Bucky but at some point, the two of them ended up wandering off to explore by themselves. You remained at the bar, nursing your drink, and just enjoying being able to relax for a moment.

Sipping from your glass, you looked around the dance floor, watching the guests dance until your gaze landed on Zemo. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, his dancing was awkward, but he seemed completely comfortable, not caring if anyone was watching him. But it didn’t seem like anyone was, all caught up in their own worlds. It was difficult to see this man as the criminal he truly was when he was dancing like…that. It just made you smile.

After a moment of watching him, he met your gaze, realising that you had been watching him. He only smiled and beckoned you over. Your eyes widened slightly, that just wasn’t a good idea, but he beckoned again as he continued to dance.

You contemplated it for a moment before finishing your drink, stepping down from the barstool and walking in his direction. You carefully pushed through the crowd until you reached the Baron. It might not have been a good idea, but you wanted to see how this went.

“Is this how all Barons dance?” you asked, speaking just loud enough for him to hear you over the music.

“Is there something wrong with the way I dance?” he asked, now pumping his fist in time with the music.

“You’re the lamest criminal mastermind I’ve ever met” you insulted him, but he didn’t seem to take it seriously, he just continued. “God, this is embarrassing” you laughed, shaking your head at him.

Zemo smiled at making you laugh before trying to draw you in, “then show me how you would dance.”

“Oh no, I don’t dance” you shook your head, quickly trying to get that idea out of his head.

“Apparently neither do I” he joked, making you bite back another smile, but this time he held his hand out for you.

You glanced down at his hand, like you were considering it, before looking around a little, like you were doing something wrong. Maybe you were.

“Worried that your friends will catch you? Worried about what they would think?” Zemo asked, noticing the way you glanced around.

You had to make your decision, so you did. “No” you answered, placing a hand in his to reaffirm your answer.

“Don’t worry, let’s just pretend that you’re still playing the role of my date. You do play it well, after all” he suggested, letting you step closer before actually placing a hand on your waist and pulling you closer.

“Careful, or I’ll turn you in” you threated, hoping he didn’t notice the slight pinkening of your cheeks, but still placed your hands on his shoulders when he released your hand.

“We’ll see” Zemo had a little smirk on his face as he slipped one hand around to sit on the small of your back, looking at you like he knew something that you didn’t. The action brought you a little closer, causing you to snake your arms around his neck. What could possibly be wrong with one dance?

The two of you were lost in the crowd, other guests shielding you from Sam or Bucky catching a glimpse of you both. Turns out, Zemo was holding out on you because he was apparently a much better dancer than he let on. You weren’t lying about not being a dancer, but you didn’t feel lost for a moment, because he guided you through it, moving with the music. If you were being perfectly honest, it was the most fun you had had in a long time. Which was strange considering the circumstances that brought you to Madripoor and the man who you were dancing with.

Unfortunately, your time at the party was cut short when Sharon came for you all. She had gotten some information and the location of Dr Nagel, and while that was very helpful, a part of you actually wished that you could have a moment longer with Zemo on the dancefloor.

Neither Sam or Bucky gave you a questioning look or anything, so you assumed that they hadn’t seen you together. And so, you all climbed into the car and headed to the location Sharon had heard about.

The four of you headed down into the secret lab while Sharon remained outside to keep lookout and fight off some of the bounty hunters that were still after you all. Inside the lab was the doctor you had been searching for and, with some persuasion, he had explained that Karli had taken all the remaining vials of serum with her and he had none left in the lab. Twenty vials to be exact, she had twenty vials and you had no way of knowing how many super soldiers she had already created with them.

That was when Sharon came running in, alerting you that you were running out of time and there where bounty hunters already outside. Before anyone could react, Zemo had pulled out a gun and shot the doctor, and then before anyone could do anything about it, the lab was attacked.

An explosion sent you all flying to the ground, hands scraping against the floor as you tried to soften your fall. Your vision slowly returned to you and you gathered your senses, looking around enough to see the flames that were engulfing the lab. A sense of panic set in as you pushed yourself off of the floor, looking around for any sign of the others.

You could see Sam, Bucky, and Sharon had been knocked down by the blast but they seemed to be alright as well, though you would all probably be rather bruised.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asked with a slight groan as he lifted himself up.

You looked around the burning lab and managed to catch a glimpse of the Baron escaping. “I’ve got him!” you assured them as you climbed to your feet, lifting your arm to shield your face from the heat as you followed after him.

“Y/n” Sam and Bucky both called after you but you were already gone.

As you exited the lab, your ears were still ringing, and the blast had been disorientating. You couldn’t see where Zemo had gone, cursing yourself for losing him, but you readied your gun and kept your wits about you.

Movement on top of one of the shipping containers caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but feel a little sense of disbelief when you realised what you were looking at. It was Zemo, wearing a purple mask, with a gun in his hand. He aimed down from the container and shot a pipe that resulted in another explosion, you stepped back behind another shipping container to avoid the blast from it.

Peering around the container, you saw Zemo climbing down from the container he stood on to fight off a group of bounty hunters. He fought better that you thought he would, with skill and a certain amount of ease, and you hated this part of your brain but…it was kinda hot…

Tearing your gaze away from him, you noticed another bounty hunter rounding a corner and aiming their gun at Zemo. Before they could pull the trigger, you stepped out and shoot them. The gunshot got the Baron’s attention, making him turn to you.

Zemo approached you with a sense of urgency, placing a hand on your shoulder as he turned you around and escorted you with him.

“Where do you keep getting guns from?” you asked as he dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I have an eye for them” Zemo shrugged, the mask hiding his facial expressions from you.

“We have to go back for the others” you told him, looking over your shoulder to see that the scene was out of sight.

“They will be fine” he assured you.

“We’re not leaving them” you insisted, beginning to turn on your heel.

“You’re right” Zemo caught your arm, stilling you. “Just trust me” it was a big ask considering his history, but you still nodded and turned back around, continuing to follow him.

Eventually, the two of you came to an open shipping container. Looking inside, you saw a car, either he had planned something like this, or he had incredible luck. Zemo removed his mask, putting it in his pocket, before the two of you climbed into the car.

“I would like to apologise for last night” Zemo spoke up as he started the car

“What for?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“For if I made you uncomfortable at all during our meeting with Selby, it was not my intention” he explained himself, pulling the car out of the unit.

“…you didn’t” you assured him honestly. A part of you wished that you had felt uncomfortable, that was how you were supposed to feel, but it wasn’t at all. You felt far too comfortable around him.

“Good” he nodded.

“We were just playing are parts” you added quietly but it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than him.

“Very convincingly, might I add” Zemo hummed, glancing over at you.

“You might not” you mumbled, making him smirk to himself.

Sam and Bucky watched as the car pulled up in front of them, Zemo in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.

“Supercharged” Zemo smiled as he put the car in park, though the three of them seem less impressed with your arrival.

“I told you I had him” you grinned, earning a short look from the two men.

“You’re going back to jail” Sam threated Zemo.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” the Baron asked with an exasperated sigh.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s three of us, and at least twenty of them” Bucky pointed out.

“He’s been useful so far and he hasn’t run yet. Now, come on, get in” you nodded towards the backseat.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again…” Sam began to warn but was interrupted.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Zemo assured him half-heartedly.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion” Sharon commented as Sam and Bucky climbed into the backseats of the car.

“Come back to the States with us” Sam offered her.

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me” Sharon nodded before walking away.

“Thanks for everything” Sam called after her before getting more comfortable in the back of the car.

“I think you’re warming up to me” Zemo commenting, looking to you.

“I think you need to shut up and drive” you told him, putting a small smirk on his face before he complied and drove off.

Meeting the Baron Taglist:

@viviace​

(Just ask to be added!)

#Helmut Zemo x reader #Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

[doubleca5t]

respectfully miss minerva patrick nagel’s art does seem like exactly the kind of art you would be obsessed with

I'm not Minerva Predictable Kelley for nothing

[st4rlabsforever]

post-episode 3 fix-it

words: 2.9k

notes: i started a long fic based on this post after watching ep 3. i cannibalized some snippets from another fic i wrote last week so if you see similar scenes, that’s why. i think this will end up being 12-15k words endgame sambucky by the end, but i refuse to post on ao3 until it’s complete. this is the first 3 scenes. feel free to comment and message me your thoughts since i’m still very much in the writing phase :)

summary: “It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.”

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

The thing is, Sam is unreadable when it really matters. He offers words of comfort where needed – in Germany, after seeing Walker with the shield that wasn’t his, knowing that it had affected Bucky just as much as himself; in Madripoor, Bucky’s hand on the throat of some henchman or other, Sam’s hand on his when the Soldier’s memories threatened to overtake him; even in Riga, when Bucky’s guilt over releasing T’Chaka’s killer bubbled to the surface and Sam had checked in with him even though he couldn’t have possibly known about Bucky’s meeting with Ayo. Sam speaks with his eyes, always a searching look that leaves Bucky raw and feeling like he’s been x-rayed. I see you, is what those eyes say.

In contrast, Bucky’s words of comfort feel hollow. He knows that Isaiah is still a live wire for Sam, checks in with him after Madripoor when he can tell the conversation with Nagel weighs heavy on his mind. But he doesn’t see the way Sam does. He knows he’d missed something important because that conversation had ended in an argument and a threat from Sam to destroy the shield.

He never gets a chance to ask Sam what he’s getting at, because Torres signals to them that they’re at the drop point before all hell breaks loose.

***

In the end, after Karli and the Power Broker and whoever else decides to show their head from the emporium of supervillains are dealt with and they finally have a moment of peace, Bucky says, “The shield looks good on you.”

Sam freezes a few paces ahead of Bucky, the shield strapped loosely to his wrist.

“We make a good team,” Bucky says softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to whirl around suddenly. The look of barely restrained fury is enough to nearly knock Bucky off he’s feet. They fight without ever really fighting all the time, squabbles over who went left and who went right and who was supposed to lead and who was supposed to follow, but never has he seen Sam look like this before. The fury verges on hurt and it’s so fucking visceral that Bucky can barely breathe.

“You don’t get to say that,” Sam says quietly. His voice shakes and he closes his eyes like he’s steadying himself.

“I said I’d squash it until the mission was over, and I did. But you know what? I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Sam–”

“You don’t get to tell me what a good team is. Not after all the shit we just went through. You invited yourself to Munich, and I thought, ‘Fine. I could use the extra set of hands.’ We went through it together against Thanos and I respected that.”

Sam shakes his head. “But then you went off on some lone wolf woe-is-me bullshit, and look at where it got us. You broke Zemo out without even asking if I was down with that. You knew I wasn’t and you forced my hand. Now I’m an accomplice.”

“He was our only lead–”

“Bullshit. That field trip to Madripoor led us right back to Karli. Torres ended up tracking them to Riga anyway.”

“But the Power Broker–”

“–showed his ugly face in the end. All we got out of Madripoor was you digging up your trauma and us getting our faces plastered all over the internet. I promised Sharon one goddamn thing and I can’t even deliver on that now.”

“But I went along with it, fine,” Sam continues. “I knew it couldn’t have been easy reaching back into that headspace, doing what you did to Selby’s men.” The memory blindsides Bucky. “So I tabled it.” Sam taps out a tally with his fingers. 

“And back in Baltimore, you’d been too keyed up about Steve being wrong about you to even listen to what I had to say. Again, I tabled it.” Another tally. 

“I’ve been meeting you halfway this entire time, man, and I’ve gotten near nothing in return. You kept Isaiah a secret from me, and at first I thought you were just clueless about how damn significant it would’ve been for me to know about him.” Sam shakes his head. 

“But then we met him. You saw what they did to him. The one Black supersoldier – a fucking hero – and look what they did to him. You saw it with your own eyes and you still sat there and lectured me about what you thought I should’ve done with that goddamn shield.” 

“There’s precedent for it, you know,” Sam says. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Sam is expecting an answer.

Bucky doesn’t know, is the thing. He feels like he’s all of five years old again, put on the spot. He’s reminded of when Zemo just had to let him know about the African American experience; he’d felt chastised and embarrassed enough to pretend like he’d had any clue what themes lurked in Marvin Gaye’s work. Sam just searches him with those eyes, searches Bucky for something yet unfathomable and decides he hasn’t found it. That hurts more than anything else; Bucky wishes he could sink into the ground, make himself as small as possible. Sam doesn’t notice, or else doesn’t care, and just plows on with a scoff. 

“You don’t even know the true history of the country you’re living in. Figures.” He shakes his head. “You’re not ever going to be able to separate the shield from the history Black folks have endured at the hands of this country. Not now, not ever.”

Sam doesn’t even look angry anymore. Angry, Bucky can deal with. It would be a relief, even. 

Instead, Sam looks at him with a disappointment that somehow surpasses what Steve could have ever accomplished.

“Whatever. I tabled that, too,” Sam says. “And then after Madripoor, after we heard that doctor go on and on about Isaiah’s blood like he wasn’t even a real human-being? I said my piece and all you did was throw that shield bullshit back in my face.”

“Sam–” Bucky tries again. He’s mortified to hear the crack in his own voice.

“It’s honestly breathtaking,” Sam says with something that might be akin to genuine wonder, or maybe even morbid curiosity in his voice. “We saw the same things in Baltimore and Madripoor, but your head was so far up your own ass that you never once stopped to think all of it was just proof to me. That the shield in the hands of a Black man wouldn’t make any damn sense.”

It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.

Sam’s not even done yet. “And that’s another thing. Stealing the shield from Walker…” Sam rolls his eyes at the memory. “You want to run around with that giant frisbee, fine. That’s your business. But then you forced it on me–”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky says immediately. Desperately. “You didn’t have to accept it.”

“The whole damn country was watching,” Sam says hotly. “It was either accept it, or shit all over Steve fucking Rogers’s legacy and make myself into the villain half the country was already hoping I’d turn out to be.”

“You were dead wrong for that,” Sam says. “I stuck around until we took down Karli because it was the right thing to do. After Munich, though, this little adventure was all you. Zemo, Madripoor, the shield.”

Sam shoves the shield into Bucky’s arms, the impact so sudden that it forces him back a step.

“Since you’re so obsessed with this thing, it’s yours. Congrats,” Sam says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll do it proud.”

Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam says, “Steve might not have understood everything about me. But in Vienna, when it came time to sign the accords? He was considering it. I put my foot down first and he listened.”

Sam shrugs. “Whatever you thought we were, it's not a team.”

Bucky knows where to drive the knife in to kill a man in as few twists of the wrist as possible – a brutal economy of movement and technique. But Sam...it pales in comparison to what Sam’s capable of. His weapons aren’t knives and his targets may not be made of flesh and blood, but he knows exactly where he needs to strike to rip Bucky open raw. Bucky feels like he’s been flayed alive.

“How about that long vacation?” Sam says, and claps Bucky on the shoulder. 

And we’ll never have to see each other ever again goes unsaid.

Fuck.

***

The thing about ignoring Sam’s texts was that Bucky responded if they were actually important. It just so happened that most of the nonsense Sam sent was inane prattling about his day, about his job, his sister, his nephews. Now that he’s on the receiving end of it, though, it feels awful.

3/25/21, 2:58 AM

I’m sorry.

Delivered

3/28/21, 1:51 AM

Can we talk?

Delivered

3/31/21, 3:05 AM

Let me know what to do and I’ll do it.

Read 3:34 AM

4/1/21, 12:42 AM

Or if there’s anything you need.

Read 1:05 AM

Yesterday, 1:00 AM

I’m available if you need another body for a mission.

Read 1:02 AM

A week into the admittedly one-sided exchange, Sam turns his damn read receipts on. It’s ridiculous and it’s fucking asinine and it gets under Bucky’s skin immediately. It’s a form of twenty-first century psychological warfare that he’s unfamiliar with and already can’t stand. Mainly, he hates that it makes him seem desperate (he’s not), needy (he might be, especially when he realizes with horror that he actually misses Sam’s rambling texts), and ridiculous (he definitely is, because he’s letting petty mind games get to him).

Normally, Sam would send him nearly daily updates on his comings and goings – whether he’d been in New York, D.C., or New Orleans. The radio silence is unsettling. Bucky wonders if Sam made good on his promise to take a long vacation. And then....

The thing about apologies is that Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever done a proper one in his entire life, at least nothing beyond a rote “I’m sorry” with the “let’s move on” part left unspoken. But it stands to reason, Bucky thinks, that a proper apology can’t be given if he’s not completely certain what he’s dealing with. That’s all well and good because he’s got the world at the tips of his fingers, is what Yori always said. And when he grows frustrated with reading on his tiny phone screen, the New York Public Library is only a train ride away.

Sam had mentioned precedent, so Bucky’s first search is for medical experimentation. He knows for a fact he was good at this once, a memory of Steve whining about him being too good at exams coming up unbidden. He reads voraciously. Anything and everything that might offer a clue on what he’d missed. And it doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for. 

He reads with dawning horror. The Tuskegee syphilis experiments. Eugenics. God, the fucking Nazis had even modeled their race science on the American school of thought. The things that the history books left out. Some of it was even happening under his nose in the 30s, he’d just been blissfully unaware. He somehow ends up down a rabbit hole where words like `prison industrial complex’ and `school-to-prison pipeline’ make increasingly more persistent appearances. New Jim Crow. COINTELPRO. War on drugs. The way all of these horrors reached their long arms into the twenty-first century.

Bucky’s going to be sick. The memories come up one after another.

Just give him your ID so we can leave.

You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.

So you’re telling me that there was a Black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it.

This is what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to come here in your over-extended life and tell me about my rights.

The shield wasn’t yours to give away.

He spends the next week in his downtime reading. With the mission being over and his parole in jeopardy, his downtime mostly coincides with every day of the week.

Had Steve known?

No, he thinks. Steve was compassionate, but he wouldn’t have known because he’d taken one look at the problems of twenty-first century America and decided he’d had enough. Then he’d ran back to the 40s to live out some fantasy that simply didn’t – couldn’t – exist anymore. Had he eventually become aware of all the issues plaguing this country that they’d been able to ignore as starry-eyed kids in Brooklyn? Bucky hopes not, because that would mean he’d...no. 

A part of Bucky thinks he’s so surprised because he’d thought things – race relations, civil rights, not things, his brain amends – had been getting better in the 40s. Deep down, though, he knows that’s a lie. A 2 AM read through Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States confirms it. Shady politicians. Klansmen who went back to their day jobs as cops, judges, firefighters. Mass incarceration taking its place as the new king on the throne of segregation. Evidently, 

There had been plenty of folks – white folks – raising an uproar about these hidden horrors back then. The seeds of those movements had even been there in the 30s. Bucky tells himself that he’d been raised during the Great Depression, that his family had been too focused on putting food on the table to focus on social movements, but that, too, ends up being a lie. The poorest and working class whites – some, at least – in movement and solidarity with civil rights. Not him, though. Apparently he’d had his head up his ass back then, too.

Bucky can see the bigger picture a tiny bit more clearly, now. 

Fine. So he’s been disarmed of the little lies he’d used as shields, and he also owes Sam one hell of an apology.

Somehow, he doesn’t think “I’m sorry, I was ignorant then but I read some books and now I know better” is going to cut it. Maybe a commitment to do better would work? Perhaps after Baltimore, but not now. That ship had long since sailed. Some grand act of service, then? He’s sure he can think of something Sam needs in this post-Blip world that he can provide. He vaguely remembers Sarah mentioning something about a ship and bank loan. That could be a starting point.

It doesn’t take much time to find the public records on the Wilson family business and then the not-so-public records on the denied bank loan. It wouldn’t take much for him to pry a little, not when seedy bankers were astonishingly amenable to the threat of violence. But he’s reminded of Zemo and figures that he ought not to do anything so drastic that could jeopardize Sam’s family situation further.

He snorts. Did growth that came several months late still count?

In the end, he decides to rip the bandage off quickly, which is how he finds himself in the sticky Louisiana heat with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back at an incredulous Sam through his open door.

“I did some reading recently,” Bucky says. 

“Hmm.”

It’s not outright refusal, so Bucky continues.

“About, um, the things you mentioned last time. Precedent.”

“Huh.”

For someone who’s normally so expressive with his language, Sam’s one-word answers as nerve-wracking as anything.

“I didn’t fully appreciate the situation that you were in. That you’re still in,” Bucky amends.

Sam shrugs. “It’s cool,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Bucky wonders if this is a test; he feels just as lost as he did on that plane a week ago.

“Let’s do this outside,” Sam says, closing the door behind him and ushering Bucky away from it. “Walk with me.” 

They head down to the pier mostly in silence until Bucky breaks it. “I’m sorry for making it all about me,” he says.

Sam stares at him. It’s true Bucky might stare a little too much on occasion, but Sam’s stares are utterly unnerving in the way he seems to see right through Bucky when he really wants to, like he’s already mapped out all there is to know.

#sambucky #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers

[supersonicart]

Bael’s “Requiem” at Gallery 30 South.

Currently on view at Gallery 30 South in Pasadena, California is artist Bael’s solo exhibition, “Requiem.”

Bael is a self-taught artist from the North East of England. After solo shows and group exhibitions in London showcasing his stark and haunting figurative paintings he has established a presence on the international art scene and developed a dedicated following. Bael’s influences range from German Expressionism to Art Nouveau and Japanese Anime, and he diffuses their essence to achieve a truly unique visual style: a post-ironic blend of Egon Schiele and Patrick Nagel that challenges the male gaze and gives voice to feminism without pandering.

“My work is an attempt to create a haunting, yet beautiful visualization of the human form. When I’m asked to describe my work, the only honest answer I can give is that my art is an attempt to capture human emotion and form with a sense of simplicity, to express something complex in as few words as possible. An obsession with drawing and line is the strongest element of my paintings and ink studies, the tension found in the figures comes from a fine balance of wanting to create a work that has visual and emotional impact, but does so by minimal means.”

“The rawness and immediacy of my work comes from my preference to paint with acrylic paint and charcoal on canvas or wood panel. These materials allow me to work quickly and retain the kind of line that exist in my drawings and transpose that into the paintings. The use of these basic materials started in my early twenties, when I was unable to afford primer of paint, oil stick and acrylics were compatible with this low grade support, so my aesthetic was born from necessity.”

-

Be sure to follow Supersonic Art on Instagram!

#art #painting #illustration #bael

[balladofsallyrose]

Happy Birthday Tash!! @madamepinkvelvet 💖

Your friendship is everything!! Our late night Johnny-obsessed talks are what I live for and i’m so blessed to have you in my life. You’re such a crazy talented soul, not only through your writing, but through your blog and all that it is. You have reunited us fellow Duranies and you are that wild spark which keeps us alive and makes us crave for more. Thank you for being such an inspiration with your hot ideas and firey presence!! I love you so much!! Now get that nagel tattoo bitch!!

#john taylor #power station #some like it hot #80s #john's tula art is so amazing and needs to be more recognised and appreciated

[ask-the-equestrians]

Hello and Welcome Everyone to my special Artwork. Today is my birthday, so I thought to myself what would I like to do for a day like mine. I know, how about making an homage to one of the most iconic 80's pop art, because I love 80's aesthetics! I want that change made art style  a bit, so I did some experiment with my Illustrator to freshening up my abilities and also make my version of a Patrick Nagel Artwork. It took me days working on the bloody thing tracing the rendered print of Sunset but I begins to be completely satisfying when I moved the Project into Photoshop. Anyway I'll be posting this along with the original rendered version. I hope you enjoy my 80's obsession Birthday Special. I got to figure out If I'm going to make a valentine's day strip now. Here's some 80's/Synthwave Music: Faces Jason The Lunar Eclipse in Tapastic The Lunar Eclipse Act II Hit me up on Twitter: @AxelDoi and Tumblr: Ask the Equestrians for updates or you want to chat. I'm trying to more active there you know. The Lunar Eclipse ACT I The Lunar Eclipse ACT II The Lunar Eclipse ACT III Software used: Daz Studio 4.11 Pro, Adobe Photoshop CC 2019, Iray, Illustraror CC 2020

#sunset shimmer #MLP #MLP:FiM #MLP: friendship is magic #My Litte Pony Friendship is Magic #My Little Pony #friendship is magic #80s aesthetic #patrick nagel #photoshop #Daz3D #3d model #3D animation #new wave #synthwave #Fanart #equestrian #unicorn #adobe illustrator #vector #art

[goopy-simmer]

Her Name Is Rio And She Dances On The Sand-

You have no idea how compelled I was to make this sim as someone who’s obsessed with Duran Duran. Painfully compelled.

she still needs some tweaking I think, like the earrings for example, her iconic triangular ones I haven’t been able to find any cc dupes of, I thought I found one the other day but they weren’t what I thought they were, oops. It’s not super easy to be accurate since the artwork has no fullbody (yeah i’m aware she’s the Nagel Lady but I always just call her Rio cause that’s the only set in stone name she’s ever been given lmfao)

I wasn’t gonna post her cause she’s such a compulsive sim and she’s not 100% perfect with her accessories and stuff, but I love her too much so here lmao

~CC Under the Cut~

Top: @helgatisha’s recolour of @trillyke’s Deep V Plunge Bustier

Shorts: @candysims4 Iguana Shorts

Nails: @simlaughlove Rainbow Nails (single)

Lipstick: @crypticsim Cupid Lipstick

Skinblend: @cowplantsims-stuff SimBlend

ANYTHING NOT TAGGED IS EA

#iko's sims #ts4 #the sims 4 #custom content #ts4cc #helgatisha #trillyke #candysims4 #simlaughlove #crypticsim #cowplantsims-stuff #sim:Rio

[letterboxd]

Ranking Little Women.

“This is a film not about a single woman’s quest for identity or independence, but about the infinite power of a woman’s community.”

Letterboxd is humming with Little Women Cinematic Universe energy, particularly since the trailer for Greta Gerwig’s new version, with its cast pulled straight from the Letterboxd Year in Review, dropped.

“I have a guttural five star type of feeling after the trailer,” writes Leia. “Bi culture is thirst-watching this for Timothée Chalamet and Florence Pugh,” Raph enthuses.

Yeah, we see you watching and re-watching all the previous film adaptations of Louisa May Alcott’s landmark 1868 novel that you can fix your eyeballs on. We’re not ones to doze by the fire; we like adventures. So let us take you on a romp through past Little Women screen adaptations, in which we rank the productions based on our community’s stantastic response to each.

From left: Milton, Daisy & Ruby.

Little Women (1917) Directed by Alexander Butler

Though the March family lived in the town of Concord, Massachusetts, it was the British who got to the beloved American book first, with this silent film adaptation.

Starring Ruby Miller as Jo March and musical-comedy star Daisy Burrell as Amy March, the film is considered lost, so nobody on Letterboxd will ever be able to confirm how the prolific English actor Milton Rosmer stacked up as rich-boy-next-door Theodore ‘Laurie’ Laurence.

Letterboxd ranking: #7.

Conrad Nagel & Dorothy Bernard.

Little Women (1918) Directed by Harley Knoles, screenplay by Anne Maxwell

Also considered lost is the first American adaptation, by the brilliantly named Harley Knoles, a British director who spent the 1910s working in the US. Matinee idol Conrad Nagel played Laurie.

Letterboxd ranking: #4. Jo March was played by silent film queen Dorothy Bernard, whose father hailed from New Zealand (as does Letterboxd), therefore this version ranks highly even though there are no Letterboxd ratings or reviews to confirm this fact. Instead, check out D.W. Griffiths’ dark, march-across-the-desert film The Female of the Species, in which “only Dorothy Bernard gives a believable performance” according to Michael.

(An aside: Here’s a list of unseen silent films that actually do exist, but that nobody on Letterboxd has yet seen, apparently.)

From left: George Cukor directs Katharine Hepburn, Joan Bennett, Frances Dee and Jean Parker in ‘Little Women’ (1933). / Photo courtesy MGM

Little Women (1933) Directed by George Cukor, screenplay by Sarah Y. Mason and Victor Heerman

Now we’re getting to the meat & potatoes of Little Women standom. Not that it’s a competition, but Katherine Hepburn is the one Saoirse Ronan needs to beat. Hepburn set the screen standard for gutsy portrayals of Jo March, and appropriately so in this first version with sound because let’s be honest, when the world got to hear Jo March speak those lines aloud for the first time, Hepburn’s voice was the perfect choice.

The prolific Cukor was nominated for the best directing Oscar (he eventually won one in 1964 for My Fair Lady), but it was the screenwriters, married couple Mason and Heerman, who won the Academy Award for their script. (Hepburn also won that year, but not for playing Jo March.)

Letterboxd ranking: #3. “A true gem of depression-era cinema,” writes Taj. “Every single scene in the first half of this film is a pure delight.”

“I’d like to personally thank Katharine Hepburn for being absolutely perfect,” writes Skylar. Morgan concurs: “Hepburn plays Jo with a rough physicality, bold confidence, and a gentle sensibility, standing out in a rather unremarkable movie.”

June Allyson and Rossano Brazzi.

Little Women (1949) Directed by Mervyn LeRoy, screenplay by Sally Benson, Victor Heerman, Sarah Y. Mason, and Andrew Solt

Why re-write a script that’s already perfect? Mervyn LeRoy’s 1949 Technicolor update lifted most of the screenplay and music from Cukor’s version, throwing in an on-trend acting line-up of June Allyson (Jo), Janet Leigh (Meg), Elizabeth Taylor (Amy) and Margaret O’Brien (Beth).

Never mind who played Laurie in this version (okay, okay, it was hunky Rat-Packing socialite Peter Lawford); the real tea here is the American film debut of Bologna-born Italian great Rossano (The Italian Job) Brazzi, as Professor Bhaer.

Letterboxd ranking: #2. “This is the best Little Women, fight me,” DylanDog declares. “I’m so impressed by the fact that they rewrote/restructured/padded out the 1933 screenplay, assembled a nearly pitch-perfect cast, and made such a fantastic Technicolor remake,” Dino reasons. “We actually see way more of the novel’s subversive gender politics play out here, and Jo’s motivations are much more palpable.”

“Although I also really like the 1933 version, the Hepburn film lacks the warmth I do find in the 1949 adaptation,” Annewithe writes. “I feel that this version conveys the true spirit of the book and is as cozy and warm and loving, and it’s in colour!”

Susan Dey and William Shatner.

Little Women (1978) Directed by David Lowell Rich, screenplay by Suzanne Clauser

Between 1949 and 1994, all we got was this seventies miniseries adaptation, which flies far under the radar of Letterboxd’s Little Women obsession with only two member reviews.

Susan Dey was a smart choice to play Jo March, given her Partridge Family profile at the time, while Meredith Baxter Birney, who played Meg, went onto huge sitcom fame as Michael J. Fox’s mom in Family Ties. The real curiosity factor here, writes LouReviews, is “the casting of one William Shatner as the Professor, and he’s rather good!”.

Letterboxd ranking: #6. “This story keeps moving me,” is all Sandra had to say, while LouReviews writes “not essential by any means, but if you like the novel, you'll want to see this”.

Winona Ryder and Christian Bale.

Little Women (1994) Directed by Gillian Armstrong, screenplay by Robin Swicord

It only took 126 years from publication for a woman to get behind the camera of a Little Women film, despite Alcott’s masterpiece long being a prime example of (white privileged) female complexity in storytelling. (Although, it’s fair to note that women have been involved in the scriptwriting for every Little Women film adaptation that we know of.)

Released—as Gerwig’s 2019 update will be—at Christmas, Gillian Armstrong’s version was as star-studded as they come, with 90s it-girl Winona Ryder—fresh off Reality Bites—as Jo March, and Christian Bale as Laurie. Also: Kirsten Dunst, Samantha Mathis and Eric Stoltz, with Susan Sarandon as Marmee.

Letterboxd ranking: #1. Sydney writes: “It’s really tough dealing with the fact that this movie is probably never going to get the respect it deserves.” Well Sydney, we’re happy to make your day. This Little Women is currently the highest-rated on Letterboxd (except for Bale’s facial hair, which is not highly rated by anyone). Thomas Newman’s score is much beloved, and the film is, in Julia’s opinion, “the definitive adaptation!”.

On a recent re-watch, Lauren “was transported back in time to my childhood and for those two hours everything felt simple and safe.” Meanwhile Sally Jane Black, in a thoughtful piece, gets right to the heart of Little Women-love: “This is a film not about a single woman’s quest for identity or independence, but about the infinite power of a woman’s community.”

Little Women (2017) Directed by Vanessa Caswill, screenplay by Heidi Thomas

Not strictly a film, but well worth a mention, this recent three-part BBC adaptation stars Thurman-Hawke offspring (and Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood flower child) Maya Hawke as Jo March. Emily Watson plays the March matriarch, and—Gerwig connection alert!—Kathryn Newton (Lady Bird’s Darlene) is Amy March.

Letterboxd ranking: #5. Alicia is a fan: “Winona will always be my Jo, but Emily Watson absolutely kills it as Marmee! Just love her FACE!!!! Her pain is your pain; her joy is your joy. Oyyy!”

Bethchestnut was slowly convinced: “A very handsome and loving production, even if there were a lot of things that bothered me about it. Doesn’t help that I watch the 90s version every year. Still made me cry twice.”

Little Women (2018) Directed by Clare Niederpruem, script by Clare Niederpruem and Kristi Shimek

Released to mark the novel’s 150th anniversary of publication, this version wins points for casting Lea Thompson (Howard the Duck, Back to the Future) as Marmee, but loses points for the weird contemporary update, in which the March sisters inexplicably lose the messy complexity of their far more adventurous 19th-century selves.

Letterboxd ranking: #8. “Who decided casting Ryan from High School Musical was a good idea?” asks Sue.

Also worth seeking out: two different Japanese anime adaptations, the 1981 series Little Women’s Four Sisters (若草の四姉妹), and the 1987 series, Tales of Little Women (愛の若草物語), which aired on HBO in 1988 and is notable for writing in a black character. Not worth a mention: this 1970 TV adaptation.

Greta Gerwig’s ‘Little Women’ opens in cinemas this December.

#little women #greta gerwig #timothee chalamet #saoirse ronan #florence pugh #meryl streep #winona ryder #katherine hepburn #letterboxd

[filmjrnl365]

#87 American Gigolo (1980)

Director: Paul Schrader

United States

I’m trying to find something that’s from the 1980’s that still holds up without a slick veneer of tackiness. American Gigolo almost made it…but not quite. I watched this movie again for the first time since high school. It’s not that I remember much about the particulars of the plot, but at the time, the movie did leave an impression on me, an aesthetic one. For a high school kid in the middle of flyover country, to watch Richard Gere pull open drawers of ties, shirts and designer clothes was a bit of a revelation. I have to say, this part of American Gigolo has somewhat held up over time. The movie plows virgin territory by showing an American male that gave a shit about how he looked and dressed, took time to educate himself culturally, had a well-appointed apartment, and drove a nice car. Sure, he was a prostitute, but let’s put that aside for now.

Before you roll your eyes at all of this, remember a few things to help put my following trivialities into context. In 1980, the hyper branding of fashion was not anywhere near the magnitude we see today. Large fashion empires were in their infancy. The country and its youth were introduced to a newish concept, the designer jean, ala Calvin Klein. Prior to this small, but ominous, step, not much a guy could do other than graduate into an oxford shirt or some back wood inspired flannel. Also, in terms of design aesthetics, look at American automobiles from the 1980’s, and you will see the epitome of non-descript, boxy, ugliness that came out of Detroit. So, when the lithe physique of the young Richard Gere stands in nude profile, while the California sunlight slants across his bare bottom; this was the aesthetic awakening for a culture still donning moustaches, greasy sideburns, worn out bell bottoms, and Zepplin t-shirts. This is the part of the film that will be lost on younger viewers, who merely see American Gigolo as an exercise in camp and shallow narcissism, but it’s the important part.

Sure, the movie has plenty of credibility lapses by today’s standards, but at the time it looked good, real good, and somehow that was important and needed to be done. The youthful optimism of the decade was palpable. Computers were not a device to troll somebody, or enable circle- jerk gatherings of political sociopaths. No, technology at that time had the sunny optimism of Southern California, long before the onslaught of Silicon Valley and trust fund size rents. American Gigolo sat stoic and quiet on the big screen, like an oversized Nagel print, and that looked and felt really different at that time.

American Gigolo is quite innocent compared to current films that attempt to deal with stories revolving around sex and death. For a plot about fucking and murder, we see neither. What we do see is passage after passage of film that promotes an idealized masculine standard for the late twentieth century. It’s an America where male prostitutes get their shit together, throw on some Armani, get some scruples, and have enough expendable income to lurk around Sotheby’s to find deals on historic artifacts. Can’t argue with that.

The problem isn’t the movie. What went wrong was what American culture did with some of these cues. Our civility didn’t keep up with the technology, we kept designing ugly shit to sell to a country whose aesthetic aptitude was calibrated to Ronald Reagan. We took the idea of looking good and turned it into a culture of obsessed preening. The fact that Gere doesn’t yet have the technology available to pucker his mouth up for a selfie is actually a big bonus in this film. And we might even take Michelle’s (Lauren Hutton) unflinching willingness to employ the sexual services of Julian (Richard Gere) as empowerment, decades before it was culturally sanctioned.

I won’t read anymore into this film, it’s just not there. It’s an unsophisticated move that’s about, well, sophistication, or at least the visual markers of sophistication. By the end of the film, Julian’s manicured world has begun to crumble. He hasn’t shaved and has stooped to driving a rented Ford Pinto. For a guy with apparent smarts, he’s legally inept in the face of being framed for murder with his evasive, petulant silence. And lastly, his self-esteem tanks as he comes crawling back to his former pimps. In a display of horrible negotiating skills, he forfeits just about every shred of respectability he’s “worked” to acquire.  But, none of this is really the point here.

The point is: doesn’t he look great?! Even when he walks out in prison attire, he’s better dressed than most of the other slobs that walk through the film. (The blue chambray shirt is fitted, open at the collar, and no slouchy pants anywhere.) Gere’s unconvincing as a character, so what! Look at the shirt and tie combination, and the fucking pants fit perfect! And then there’s Lauren Hutton: statuesque, tanned, and legs for miles! I’ll tell you one thing that survived the 80’s- Lauren Hutton’s hair! Even Ann Bancroft and Catherine Deneuve would nod in approval. Let’s not overlook the great trench coats…not sure how much rotation these get in Los Angeles, but they are worn on par with the likes of Humphrey Bogart, so let’s skip over the temperature snag, and just admit that they look good as well.

So, 38 years later, here’s what American Gigolo can still offer us:

1. Good hair, not big hair, just good hair.

2. Fit and proportion are important.

3. Get a good coat. What kind? Watch the film.

4. Old Mercedes still look great.

5. Can’t have too many dot pattern neckties.

6. Get in shape, and get a tan!

7. Don’t be a rube.

8. Show up on time and do a good job, no matter who you’re screwing.

9. When Lauren Hutton offers, don’t turn it down!

10. Keep listening to Blondie.

filmjrnll365.tumblr.com

#American Gigolo #richard gere #lauren hutton

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A with Scott Chenoweth

A man of many sketchbooks, Long Beach based artist Scott Chenoweth’s black and white illustrations focus on subtle humor, puns, and all things that capture his many imaginations. Not only one thing, Scott creates art in different styles for different things– using what he has learned from being the art director at Surfing Magazine and his experiences as a director at What Youth art program. We’re stoked to find out more about Scott’s artistic process, find out his art school tip, and about some of his many projects in 2018 – including his first solo show in over 12 years! 

Photographs by Taylor Dunfee

Introduce yourself?  I’m Scott Chenoweth, a freelance illustrator and designer from Ventura, Ca currently living in Long Beach. Lets see, the basic run down is I’ve spent the last 12 years making magazines, was the art director of Surfing Magazine for 5 years then started What Youth and just wrapped up my time there. I also opened a brewery called Madewest Brewing Co. in Ventura with some high school friends that’s been so much fun to work on and a great way to get art out that I never thought possible.

Describe your works for us. I have a few different styles, I like to use each medium for different things. For example, my illustration style is predominantly black and white silly line drawings of puns and other things I think are funny. I like to use that medium for myself, just to enjoy making things that people can smirk at.

Whereas my design style is a lot more buttoned up. It’s the one that I take a little more seriously. Clean, minimalist, no marks made unless they’re essential. That kind of thing. I do a lot of brand identities and have spent a lot of time in print. The design work is definitely more visible than my illustration stuff, but hopefully that will start to shift this year.

What were some of your early influences? Art heroes?  I got into art super early so I have a lot of different influences. Love the abstract expressionists Rauschenberg, Rothko, any of those artists that were really messing with the platform of what it meant to make art. Francis Bacon, Goya, Klimt and when I was a kid I was pretty obsessed with Nagel, H.R. Giger, Escher and so on. I loved anyone who was skilled with a pen. When I was a kid I thought the more realistic the drawing looked, the better artist you were. I think that’s why I gravitated to the abstract expressionists when I figured out that wasn’t the case. 

Tell us what type of things are you inspired by in your recent works?  I get super inspired by working with the kids (ha, 18-24 year olds). I have been lucky enough to surround myself with some incredibly talented people at What Youth that are always questioning the way I learned to do things. Filmakers, artists, photographers - just kids who have never been told not to do something a certain way. I grew up and went to art school where I was yelled at and told how things must be done. The younger generations are skipping the school shit and just making stuff. There’s so many platforms for it now that didn’t exist when I was that age. It’s so sick to see unfiltered expression that’s the result of all this new media.

Do you keep a sketchbook or work your ideas as you go along?  I do, I have 5 in the works right now. One for notes the rest for sketches and ideas. I have small ones that fit in the pocket for when I’m out and about. Larger ones that get a little dusty from time to time. I stopped using them as much recently, cause if I ever wanted to do something with the art in them, it’s kinda pointless. I’m not going to have someone ask to buy a drawing and sell them my whole sketch book… and I definitely don’t want to rip it out. The books kinda become sacred personal items, and I am trying to get away from that. Art is meant to be shared, not hoarded on a shelf.

What’s something you can pass along art tip wise? What have you learned in your years of art making? I think a lot of people don’t understand the commitment you have to make to do anything with art. If you’re not completely self motivated, it’s probably not for you. Everyone I know that’s actually making rad shit right now is completely obsessed. And it’s so cool to see that drive and what they do with it. There’s no dabbling in it.

How do you stay fresh or spend your time when you’re not drawing? How do you overcome drawer’s block? The usual suspects I guess. Hitting the road traveling, spinning records, drinking beers on the patio and I’ve gotten super into cooking lately too. As far as drawers block, I just try and not force it. I have so many outlets drawing is kind of the fun thing to get back to. I have a silk screen press in my house, paint murals, design logos, build furniture, etc. There’s so much to do that drawers block kinda doesn’t exist. If you’re not feeling it, switch mediums or just take a break and walk around the block. 

What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t an artist? Probably be a paramedic. My pop is a doctor and my mom’s a nurse. I grew up around the medical stuff my whole life and was always super into it and loved being around that kinda thing. 

What are your favorite Vans? Any of the classics. I’ve had em all on heavy rotation since I was 7 years old with my first pair of checkered slip ons and still rock the same hand full of styles. I guess that’s just part of growing up in southern CA. The classics never die.

What advice would you give someone thinking about art as a career? Now is the best time to do it. There’s more opportunity out there than I’ve ever seen. So many new things coming out, so may platforms to share your work on, so may ways you can get your work seen. If you’re getting into it now, be lucky, but also realize you’re not alone and you’re going up against everyone else trying for the same jobs. And if the job you want isn’t out there, make it up. That’s what we did at What Youth and we had great time running around the world making shit

What’s up for the rest of your year? Anything you’d like to mention?  This year has been and continues to be super hectic and exciting. I left full time work for the first time in my life to attack freelance design. There’s a ton of exciting projects coming in outside of the surf/skate world that really excite me, especially in the cannabis industry. I also have a few big painting and mural projects coming up this fall. Got the new silk screen set up and am cranking out new shirts under the label “Don’t Feed The Ghosts”. I have a bunch of new Madewest Beer cans coming out this summer, we’re launching like two new cans per month. And just overall saying yes to anything I can get my hands on. Oh, and I just signed up to do my first solo show in over 12 years at the beginning of next year, so its going to be a busy year to say the least. Thanks for reaching out!

Check out SCOTT | Website | @scottchenoweth

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Scott Chenoweth #Art School #Interview #illustration #design #freelance #creativity

[domytriesthis]

So I lied: I do have one more late December 2017 post. Most of this has to do with the holidays, though the first photo joined the holiday stuff pretty much unexpectedly. The Urban Decay Electric palette went on sale, and since almost any UD palette going on sale for 50% off is a palette that’s about to  be discontinued, I impulse purchased it. Sort of. I’d been planning to buy it for a long time, but had been hoping to do so later because of the holidays. It’s a good thing I did buy it because it was out of stock within days. Anyway, they had a note on the order about a special offer but I had to wait until I got the box to see it (and I seriously tried to figure it out every which way on their site, but nope! absolutely had to wait for the box). Turns out the “deal” was a Christmas present of an extra Electric palette, a Naked Smoky palette, and a Perversion mascara mini! Seriously, over $150 of makeup (at normal prices) for about $15! The extra palettes went to my two older girls for their Christmas presents. :)

The second and third photos show the Electric palette with another impulse buy, the Nagel Vice Lip Palette. Next is a First Aid Beauty Radiance Pads refill (which I’ve reviewed here before) along with a 100 point perk: the Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Honey. And finally we have my middle daughter’s Christmas gift to me which was a Sephora Passport bag filled with the Huda Beauty Obsessions Electric palette, Smashbox Insta-Matte Lipstick Transformer, Smashbox Be Legendary Lipstick mini in Legendary (reviewed in my December Ipsy post), a Sephora Collection Travel Brush set, and a gorgeous, heavy duty mirror.

So let’s review!

Urban Decay Electric Palette ::  I picked this up because I've been struggling to find a bright colored palette that works on me and have way too many neutral/rosy palettes. I need some color! I am loving this palette! I've had problems with bright palettes showing up on my skin even close to how they look in the pan (for some reason, on me the colors become dull), but even the lime green is bright and clear on my eyes. The colors are beautiful, the shadows are creamy and pigmented, and there's little difference between what's in the pan and what ends up on my eyes, plus little to no fallout. It’s become one of my favorite palettes.

Urban Decay Perversion Mascara ::  Oh man, have I got to get me a full size of this! It made my lashes long,thick, and beautiful. It's among the darkest blacks I've used.  It applied smoothly, and while the brush isn't one of my favorites (I much prefer a curved brush), it did a beautiful job of reaching every lash. No flaking fading, or smearing through the day. It's one of the few mascaras I've added to my loves list at Sephora, and this one I might actually buy despite the price! Better yet, they offer a mini (bigger than this sample, thank goodness) that makes it affordable and more of a guilt free purchase since I’ll be likely to use most of it before it has to be tossed at the 3 month mark.

Urban Decay  Vice Special Effects Long-Lasting Water-Resistant Lip Topcoat Sample :: I’ve tried a couple of the bubble samples so far, and I’m not really impressed. It dries quickly but feels uncomfortable and isn’t long lasting at all. Like the Vice liquid lip, it fades then flakes. Not something I’d buy the full size of...or even take a free sample of again.

Urban Decay Nagel Vice Lip Palette ::  I purchased this mostly for the artwork (I ADORE Nagel, and now I own one of his pieces on a pretty box!). I want Rio (and plan to pick it up as soon as I can), but most of the colors in the Sunglasses box work for my skin tone and preferences. They're pigmented, creamy, and dry down quickly without being drying. I like to top it with something on the creamier or glossy side because, while the Vice is comfortable on my lips, I like to feel a bit more slide when I press my lips together. The included brush doesn't feel very sturdy (and I keep waiting for it to break or something), but I do like that it's retractable.  It's also nice to have a variety of colors with me in such a small, easily carried palette should I decide to change the color I'm wearing. The box itself is very sturdy. It’s a bit bulky, but not impossibly so (I can still put it in my purse and take it with me, though it wouldn’t fit into one of my night out bags and leave room for much else), There are nit picky things, but overall I really like it for more than the artwork and enjoy using it.

Clinique Almost Lipstick :: Another lip product I’m not impressed with. They seriously should have called this a gloss or tinted balm. It’s smooth, creamy, and glossy, but has next to no color at all. I might try the Smashbox Insta-Matte over it and see if that does something, but the Insta-Matte isn’t for use over glosses and the like, so I don’t know if it will do anything. This might end up in my ProjectBeautyShare.org box. I haven’t decided yet.

Huda Beauty Obsessions Electric Palette ::  Loving this palette! For some reason, yellows don't show up well on my skin (and it doesn't matter if it's high end or drugstore: both barely show up, if at all), and my daughter and I swatched this in Sephora, and it showed up! The colors in this palette are gorgeous and pigmented. There is quite a bit of fallout, so it's probably better to do your eye makeup before putting on foundation. And at least one color isn't true to the pan: the berry-red in the lower right corner is more pink than red. Other than that, it's a beautiful palette. I've had no trouble with patchiness or blending (in fact, they do stain, so that's something to be aware of).

Smashbox Insta-Matte Lipstick Transformer :: I’ve only tried this once, and it appeared to do what it claims, but I need to play with it some more.

Sephora Collection Travel Brush Set :: I keep these with other touch up items in the passport bag in my every day purse. I haven’t used them much, but they are soft, the handles (and the case) are sturdy, and they do get the job done when I need them. No shedding, no smell. They work for what I need.

Not reviewing the mirror—I keep it with my “night out” bags to use when I go out, and the one time I took it with me (so far), the lighting in the place necessitated restroom visits for any touch ups. ;)

Anyway, domy tried these and is REALLY happy with all of it! And NOW I’m caught up with everything from 2017 except free samples (most of which I’m still waiting to come in)—and those don’t need to be reviewed soon after receiving them (in fact, a few of them have to wait until late spring/summer since they’re mineral powder versions of products and I won’t be using them until then). In terms of what’s coming up, I have a mostly (but not all) skincare order coming in, a Nyx order coming in, and my Ipsy appears to have shipped. Looking forward to posting about and reviewing new items from all of those! :D

#cosmetics #makeup #eyeshadow palette #lippies #lipstick #lip gloss #lip balm #makeup brushes #sephora #sephorahaul #urbandecay #holiday haul #Projectbeautyshare #makeup fails

[wendyrward]

Woman’s Work: Climbing out of the Bottle in 2020

SO glad there’s an alternative cover for Holly Whitaker’s debut non-fiction book, Quit Like a Woman: The Radical Choice to Not Drink in a Culture Obsessed with Alcohol. The cover on the ARC was just sorta black with purple and orange and other colored wine bottle shapes floating and it looked eighties without the Patrick Nagel cool factor--PLUS it had “Quite Like a Woman” at the top of each page which I know I shouldn’t quote so I’m not. I’m just saying.

Amazingly passionate and researched, QLAW covers an alternative and holistic path to sobriety dovetailing with Whitaker’s personal story of quitting alcohol and so the book basically breaks down how she came to find this non-AA course of fighting addiction--hers were alcohol, food, cigarettes, pot, shitty jobs, and shitty men. 

Anyone waiting for the blow-by-blow tale of the demise of HOME podcast (me) will have to read Laura McKowan’s debut memoir/self help book, We Are the Luckiest (released the same day as Whitaker’s) in hopes of clues--not that the two women owe us anything but I’d die for the dirty details.  

Wendy Ward http://wendyrward.tumblr.com/

#books #hollywhitaker

[tayschaicookies]

Rules : Answer as truthfully as possible & tag 10 Tumblrs you want to get to know better

I was tagged by @swiftsgetawaycar, thank you so much Sara!

Name : Myrthe

Gender : Female

Star Sign : Taurus

Height : 5’8”

Middle name : Not telling y’all hahaha it’s super embarrassing (hint: it’s a Dutch cow’s name)

Put your itunes on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?

Cabinet Battle #1 - Original Hamilton Broadway cast

bow - Kasabian

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - XYLØ

Father Christmas - Bad Religion

Crazy in Love - Beyoncé

Skylines and Turnstiles - My Chemical Romance

Grab the book nearest to you and turn to page 23. What’s line 17? “As Nagel put it, when we say that another organism is conscious we mean that there is something it is like to be that organism...something it is like for the organism.” 

Yeah, guess who’s studying about consciousness hahaha (murder me)

Ever had a song written about you? Nope but I had a lot of poems written about me by my gorgeous girlfriend if that counts?

When was the last time you played air guitar? I never play air guitar, but real guitar like a few days ago?

Who is your celebrity crush? I don’t think I really have one at the moment!

What’s a sound you hate? Love? I love listening to the rain, I love soft piano music and I love the sound of a fireplace. I hate loud things when not wearing my noise canceling earplugs haha.

Do you believe in ghosts? Aliens? Yes.

Do you drive and if so have you ever crashed? I drive but have never crashed!

What was the last book you read? The Lord of the Flies by Golding!

Do you like the smell of gasoline? I actually do!

What was the last movie you saw? I’m more a TV show kind of girl but I think it was Atomic Blonde!

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? My ankle dislocates every now and then, that hurts p bad

Do you have any obsessions right now?  CHRISTMAS!! Also soft, cozy aesthetics. I just got a new haircut that did not go as planned, but I’m changing my aesthetic to red/purple lips and cozy jumpers and now it’s kinda cute so I think that counts maybe?

Do you tend to hold grudges against people? I really try not to but then catch me being angry at someone who did something bad a very long time ago. However, I do think I give everyone a second chance and if they prove themselves better, I don’t have a grudge anymore. 

In a relationship? Yes, with the lovely @tay-knows-places​

I tag:

@tog-trash  @repugaytionn @poptartswift @youresogorgeous13 @tay-knows-places @swiftest-dreams13 @alltoowellyeah and of course anyone else who wants to do this!

#tagged

[lisahobus-blog1]

Einer der schlimmsten Gefühle ist wenn zwei Menschen sich lieben, aber nicht zusammen sein können, weil die Welt dagegen ist. Je mehr du verarscht, belogen und betrogen wirst desto kälter und härter wirst du. Sie ignorieren dich solange, bis sie dich brauchen. Mir fehlt ein Mensch, der wirklich Interesse an mir hat. Bevor du andere Frauen ansiehst, denk daran, wie viele gerne DEINE hätten. 💋 Fake Freunde erkennt man daran, dass sie in schwierigen Situationen nie bei dir sind. Es gibt Tage, da brauche ich nicht viel, sondern nur einen Menschen, der zu mir sagt: "Ich bin für dich da." Sie werden sich wundern, wenn du anfängst sie so zu behandeln, wie sie dich behandeln. 👋 Liebe ist wie eine Droge. Entweder sie zeigt dir das Paradies oder sie bringt dich um. Manche schminken sich stundenlang. Manche lächeln ein paar Sekunden und sind schöner. Fremdgehen ist eine Entscheidung, kein Fehler. Denn Fehler passieren unüberlegt. Solange ich Menschen sehe, die mit Tränen in den Augen Geschichten von früher erzählen, glaube ich nicht daran das Zeit alle Wunden heilt! I'm that girlfriend that stares at you and smiles all the time even when you aren't looking because I'm so obsessed with you 😊😊😊 Ich kann in deinen Armen weinen und du erzählst der Welt trotzdem wie stark ich bin. Hoffnungen können so schmerzhaft sein. 😢 Musik tut das, was Liebe manchmal nicht kann. Sie bleibt. ♥ Man kann nicht entscheiden in wen man sich verliebt, denn Liebe ist keine Entscheidung,liebe ist ein Gefühl. ♥ Lions don't lose sleep over the opinions of sheep. Ein Lächeln kostet nix & tut nicht weh Also schenke jedem ein Lächeln , denn ein Lächeln schenkt andern auch ein Lächeln & macht glücklich Ein Lächeln ist gratis und trotzdem das wertvollste auf der ganzen Welt a beautiful person is a person with a good heart. sometimes i have to remind myself that i don't have to do what everyone else is doing Wenn ihr in einer Beziehung seid, besorgt euch ein Brett, Nägel und einen Hammer. Jedesmal wenn du deinen Partner verletzt, belügst oder hintergehst, schlage einen Nagel in dieses Brett. Wenn das Brett voll ist, entferne alle Nägel, die du dort rein geschlagen hast. Was du nun siehst, ist das Herz deines Partners. Auch wenn du dich entschuldigst und alles wieder gut gemacht hast, die Narben im Herzen sind wie die Löcher in deinem Brett. Du kannst alles entfernen, aber die Löcher bleiben! Also bitte bleib treu und ehrlich und tut alles dafür das die Beziehung Funktioniert ...♥️ !! Fakt ist: Nutten werden wie Prinzessin behandeln während die richtigen Frauen wie das letzte Stück Dreck behandelt werden! "Das Leben ist so viel leichter, wenn man anfängt sich selbst zu lieben." “Will gerade einfach nur mit dir draußen liegen und die Sterne beobachten.”🌠🌟 Jedem, dem du ein Herz schenkst, schenkst du auch ein Messer, mit dem er dich entweder beschützen oder verletzen kann... <3 Wenn Jemand "egal" sagt, dann lügt er. Niemanden ist etwas oder alles egal. Diese Menschen haben einfach nicht mehr die kraft zu reden. Hass mich oder lieb mich. Ich bleibe wie ich bin. Ich scheiß auf den rest, mach mein eigenes Ding. Don’t change for anyone. People will love you for who you are, or you don’t need them in your life. 🌾 Wenn ich sage "Keine Sorge, es geht mir gut" ist es gelogen. Aber Hey keine Sorge, es geht mir gut.. Da hat man heute mal wieder gesehen das ein angeblicher "Freund" kein Freund ist! #FuckFakeFriends Falls du dich wunderst weshalb ich dich Ignoriere, denk mal über dein Verhalten nach 😪🖕 Ich würde echt gerne wissen, was du denkst, wenn du an mich denkst. Deine Nähe tut mir weh weil ich in uns einfach mehr seh, als wir beide sind.. 💔 Ich bin vielleicht nicht deine erste Liebe , dein erster Kuss oder dein erstes Date. Aber ich möchte in allem die letzte sein I’m not glad it’s "Friday" I’m glad it’s "Today" will keine liebe auf den ersten Blick.. sondern liebe bis zum letzten blick♡ Rede nicht von Ehre und stolz, wenn du jeder Frau wie ein Hund Folgst!! Everyone needs that one person that can always make you smile 😍 Jeder hat eine beste Freundin &’ du bist halt meine.”💕🎀 Er will ein Engel, doch sein Handy platzt vor lauter Schlampen. Sie hat Angst vor Nähe, weil jeder der sagte ' ich bin immer für dich da', sie verlassen hat. Sie hassen dich, aber checken jeden Tag dein Profil ab.

[rebeccadunne]

Your Chroma

by Sinead Gleeson from the latest edition of essential Irish literary journal Gorse

I

How does it start? The black of pre-consciousness, the pink

of uterine breaths, the red highways of arteries, splayed.

The beginning is red.

II

Fly over

This country

Of the body.

A spy photographer

On an aerial loop.

There is

breast and

brain and

bladder and

bowel.

Begin the descent to bone.

Dive into fissures of marrow,

To the source,

The red and white cells

of the blood.

Canada,

Japan,

Poland,

Peru.

Venal Vexillology.

III

To put down words about the body—medical, biological,

anatomical—is to present the body as fact. Its being in the

world—a being ‘being’—is irrefutable.

IV

There is a photo of you. Your child body in a red dress at

a trout farm, the brown glitter of a fish wriggling on the

end of the rod’s line. You smile for the camera, and avoid

looking at the bubble of blood at its mouth. Its red gasps.

V

‘Colour is consciousness itself, colour is feeling,’ said William

Gass, who prioritised blue above red. Blue, he writes, is ‘most

suitable as the colour of interior life.’ Blue, above corporeal

red? What was he thinking?

VI

How do we decide this interior colour? We are one colour in

life, another in death; one in youth, another in old age; one

in sickness, another in good health. We channel Yves Klein

and create a new shade for the interior. A born again hue.

VII

Because of his synaesthesia, Wassily Kandinsky associated

colours with shapes, and sounds. For him, red was a square,

the ‘sound of a loud drum beat.’

VIII

Repeat red over and over—red red red red red red red red

red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red

red red red red red—and it’s a hum, a drill, a drumroll. It is

also not-blue, not-green, not-black, not-white.

IX

In the Tate, Rothko’s reds are dreamlike, hazy around

the edges. Are they on the canvas or under it, bleeding

through?

X

In an old cinema, long closed down, we watched Derek

Jarman’s Blue. I’m curious about his choice of colour, but

don’t question his motivation to use blue. In his book Chroma,

he says: ‘I know my colours are not yours. Two colours are

never the same, even if they’re from the same tube.’ I think

of his eyes and his failing sight. To be a person who has

spent their life looking, photographing, regarding—and

now cannot see.

XI

You are both redheads, and tell me you like to mark this

by taking photos of the backs of your heads. You do this

in special places. Howth pier, the Cliffs of Moher, various

lighthouses.

XII

There is a black and white photo in a local newspaper,

dating from the 1930s. It’s creased, and heavily pixelated,

with that old photo blur. But it’s him, Red Con. This is the

only photo we’ve tracked down. I’ve never met him, nor has

my father, but we are related. I descend from red hair.

XIII

If blue, as Gass argues, is the colour of interior life, this

makes red a colour of the exterior. But red is the body. Red

is blood, organs, tendons, the red elements:

Rashes

Hives

Sores

The raised bridge of a new scar

Platelets working on the crust of a cut

The speckle of heat rash, like pebbles on the bed of a

stream.

XIV

Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge in a convertible,

sucking in cool Californian air, they argue about the shade

of the steel. Red. Scarlet. Terracotta. Red again, some

consensus. Circular talk of colour under the shadow of

heavy cables, but he knows the bridge’s shade is officially

called ‘International Orange.’ The company that makes the

paint sells a cheaper version called ‘Fireweed.’ He takes this

as a sign to roll a joint and tells his friends that 98% of

people who jump into the bay don’t survive. Those who do

always have the same injuries: broken vertebrae, smashed

ribs, punctured lungs.

XV

You say tomato

I say blood

You say traffic light

I say muscle

You say fire engine

I say vein

XVI

LITTLE

Across the woods, basket swinging on a girlish arm, she

weaves off the path to pick flowers. Hood as protector—

stay hidden, girl, cover yourself up—in a tocsin shade of red.

Anti-camouflage. Here I am, come and get me! it says. And so

the wolf did.

RED

Get up! Her mother pulls the blanket off her teenage bed.

Take this to your granny, and wear your hood, it’s cold. The girl

is menstrual, cramped, innards torn. Her mother relents,

returning with a hot water bottle, and a box of Feminax.

There is a wolf in her womb, and she placates it with hot,

vulcanised rubber and codeine.

RIDING

The girl remarks on the size of her grandmother’s ears, eyes,

and teeth, failing to notice the lupine mouth, the rich pelt,

the cross-dressing, the anthropomorphic imposter in the

bed.

HOOD

In the belly of the wolf, she is safe. She cannot be eaten again.

Consumption saves her from more (male) consumption.

Stay hidden girl. Belly as cave.

XVII

Fairytales are always about women’s bodies. Rapunzel’s hair

and Sleeping Beauty’s somnolent face and Snow White

choking and Cinderella dancing with glass-slippered feet.

XVIII

Not glass slippers, but her aunt buys her red clogs, the first

shoes she ever loves. The heavy wooden stomp on the

concrete of the street, the scarlet curve of the leather a

possibility. She learns that women are meant to wear heels;

that heels appear to lengthen a woman’s leg, to accentuate

her calf, to make her more attractive. She decides she will

only wear clogs, or no shoes at all.

XVIX

Four women in black body con dresses gyrate to a 1980s

song. Robert Palmer, dressed like someone’s office manager

dad rolls through Addicted to Love. The women are heavily

made up, their eye shadow a palette of storm-cloud colours,

but it’s their lipstick I’m obsessed with: my mother’s matt

pinks and creamy browns having nothing on this. This red is

a declaration of war. The gloss is so high it looks like glass.

I practise on my lips with saliva. The models are arranged

democratically, two either side of Palmer. The only contrast

in uniformity is their faces and length of their dresses. Their

whiteness is a shock, the scraped-back hair severe. These

porcelain-faced, storm-eyed she-tomatons are part homage

to Art Deco painter Patrick Nagel’s women. The shock and

sheen of their scarlet lips is the only thing that interrupts their

monochrome faces. Is it because it’s the ’80s that the scene

is so homogenous, so lacking in multiculturalism? White

bodies the epitome of capitalism, even in pop music.

XX

How should we present our face to the world?

How should we present our (female) face to the world?

Make-upped, pore-blocked in shades of ivory and sand.

Brow-arched, lash-lacquered, glitter-lidded. Branded by

brands.

XXI

We used to paint our lips with whale blubber, but now it’s

mostly wax and oils. I have yet to find the perfect shade of

red lipstick. Too orange, too ephemeral, too knife slash.

XXII

I once worked as editor of a spa magazine. I wrote dull

copy about acrylic nails and Glycolic peels, and was sent

endless products: emery boards and seaweed unguents,

poultices and tanning sprays; exfoliation aids in wood and

sisal. I interviewed a woman who gave facials with coloured

oils selected for a person’s mood and personality. Part spa

treatment, part mystical woo. In her tiny salon, above a pub,

she told me about oneness and inner beauty, self-examination

and higher powers. After a pause in her well-rehearsed pitch,

she pointed to a fleshy bump on my forehead and said:

Would you not get that removed?

XXIII

In 1967, Irish-born writer Lucy Grealy moved to the US

with her family. Life opened up with possibility, but aged

nine she was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a rare facial

cancer. Grealy endured thirty operations, radiation and

chemotherapy. In Autobiography of a Face, her novelistic

memoir, she writes: ‘This singularity of meaning—I was

my face, I was ugliness—though sometimes unbearable, also

offered a possible point of escape. It became the launching

pad from which to lift off, the one immediately recognisable

place to point to when asked what was wrong with my life.

Everything led to it, everything receded from it—my face as

personal vanishing point.’

XXIV

I have never broken a limb, even if my bones are

troublesome.

I have never needed stitches because of a cut.

I have never exposed my insides except for surgical

wounds.

My skin resealed with metal, paper and thread.

XXV

When my teenage hip started to disintegrate, baffled doctors

kept asking increasingly random questions:

Did you fall?

(Who doesn’t?)

Have you ever been knocked down by a car? (Once, but the driver

was going slow and we lived in a cul-de-sac.)

Have you ever had a tropical disease? (Can you get one from

going to Spain?)

Have you ever been bitten by an animal or strange creature? (I tell

him about Lough Derg.)

XXVI

At Dromineer, Lough Derg was like a beach. I swam out

far from the shore to float in the navy current that skirted

the lake like isobars. Swimming back, I stood when the

water was knee high, and felt a sharp pinch on my foot. It

wasn’t glass, and felt more like a bite, but I couldn’t see what

lurked beneath. I thought of monsters and sea demons, the

creature of the lake. There are not enough horror films set

underwater.

XXVII

A hotel exterior, painted walls, a fleeing woman in a scarlet

coat, the vertical lines of blood on a hanging woman’s legs, a

nosebleed, a trickle from a mouth. In Suspiria, Dario Argento

reminds us that we bleed; that the body is vulnerable—not

just to psychologies and fear—but to knives and violence.

The body is the ultimate horror setting.

XXVIII

I look at the mottled skin at your back as a forensic scientist

examines blood splatter.

XXIX

After major surgery:

I wake up to find my skin yellow and assume this is iodine

or antiseptic used to prep the body for being opened to the

elements.

I wake up to find that this yellow is not an ointment, but

bruising, from the pressure of knives, the kneading of

hands.

I wake up to red and yellow patches, pools of colour, the

body’s semaphore.

I wake up during hip replacement surgery and feel strong

hands shoving, the weight of arms, a rearrangement.

Who’s pushing me? I ask, before the anaesthetist tops up

the spinal block, shoving me back under the waves.

XXX

Arthritis and surgery withered my bones. My left leg is

thinner than the right, full of metal and scars. Frida Kahlo’s

right leg was thinner than her left, a result of childhood polio.

Kahlo painted not just her body, not just pain, but body and

pain united. Exposed spinal columns, a womb that triggered

miscarriages, herself pierced by nails in multiple works. In

her diary, she wrote: ‘I am DISINTEGRATION.’

XXXI

Eventually Kahlo’s leg was amputated below the knee and

in 1953, a year before her death, she had a prosthetic limb

made. A laced-platform boot with Chinese embroidery in

red leather. Red as defiance, and for the body and for all the

blood she’d shed.

XXXII

For nearly three months, I wore a cast that covered most

of me. When it was removed, the skin had piled up, and

looked like wax. The sediment of immobility. Removing it

was like rubbing smudges on a windowpane. I felt like a

snake shedding its skin.

XXXIII

Bones are hard as rock but our edges—skin, lids—are not

shores. The body is an island of sorts, containing several

isthmuses, in the throat, fallopian tube, prostate, thyroid,

urethra, aorta, uterus. Body as outpost, as tidal island.

XXXIV

In Northern Ireland we pass bays and inlets, but also red

phone boxes, red postboxes. Imperial, post-Colonial red.

The red stripe of St George’s flag, many Red Hands of

Ulster.

XXXV

I think of you as though you are a map. Of the contours of

your jaw, the hill of your back, the compass of your arms. I

see them now, at 10 and 2, an almost-Jesus on a cross. I try

to imagine your body at 11:11, or 12:34.

XXXVI

We play The Alphabet Body game and you laugh when I get

Z. What about Zinn’s Zonule? I offer, but you think I’m making

it up. The suspensory ligament holding the crystalline lens

of the eye in place. It’s not immediately tangible; there are

no children’s flash cards like there are for eye or mouth.

Zygomatic Bone you say, and ask me its location. It sounds like

zygote, so I guess it is uterine or cervical. I’ll answer by kissing

you there you say, and brush your lips against my cheekbone.

XXXVII

After the birth of my daughter, by C-section, my husband

said he looked up at the wrong time and saw my intestines.

The operating theatre floor looked like a murder had been

committed. And you were red too on the outside, viscous

and slippery as albumen, but your skin was blue, your lungs

working to inflate.

XXXVIII

After the birth of my son, he weighs no more than a couple

of bags of sugar, but I cannot pick him up. A new pain

in my wrist is intense, and feels close to the surface, like

someone tipping a scalding cup over it. I take a glass lift five

floors to see a man who will fix it. De Quervain’s Syndrome,

he says. Can you get it from lifting babies, who are light,

almost not there? Two tendons wrap around each other in a

red embrace. One surgical slit with a scalpel, like a ribbon-

cutting ceremony and it will be free. This injury is also called

Washerwoman’s Sprain (not Washerman’s).

XXXIX

The patron saint of childbirth, St. Margaret of Antioch, was

a committed virgin. Tortured for her faith, her flesh slashed

with nails, she was given the title after an encounter with

a dragon. The creature swallowed her whole, so Margaret

made the sign of the cross and promptly burst out of its

stomach, Alien-style. (Film critic Mark Kermode once said

that Alien is a film about male fear of childbirth).

XL

I know a girl with Rosacea, which makes me think of

‘Rosary,’ not red. The skin is affected with papules and

pustules, reminding me of holy beads. I love these words

for awful things, and the galaxy of red under the moons of

her eyes.

XLI

You do not own your body if you live in this country. Your

womb is not under your control. Legislation owns your

ovaries. Lawyers lay claim to your fallopian tubes. The

government pays stamp duty on your cervix.

XLII

Tick tock, women’s body clocks.

Have a baby even though you’re not ready.

Have a baby when you can’t afford a home.

Have a baby when you’ve been raped.

Have a baby because you can’t afford the airfare to London

or Liverpool.

Have a baby between twenty and thirty-four, it’s the optimum

fertility window, they

keep

reminding

us.

The ticking of ovaries, your body as timepiece, swinging on

a chain.

XLIII

Heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.

Or

HIPS! TITS! LIPS! POWER! (REPEAT)

XLIV

Once you enter the medical system, there are rooms and

hospital numbers, blue disposable gowns and Styrofoam

cups. There are people speaking—always speaking—asking

questions, taking details. The body you think of as yours

is not private. It is in the system, on charts, in operating

theatres. Your body needs to take the lift to x-ray. Your body

needs to drink more fluids. Your body needs to come back

in three months. Your body is ours.

XLV

Just before her lumpectomy, photographer Jo Spence wrote

on her left breast: Property of Jo Spence? The question mark is

defiant and panic-stricken. The need to hold on to this part

of herself. To assert autonomy, even over the toxic growth

in her chest. To have a say in her own medical life. Later,

post-lumpectomy, Spence is photographed in profile, breast

puckered and scarred. Wearing a crash helmet, the image is

uncompromising. Come at me, it says.

XLVI

In the hospital, you are not supposed to use your hands.

In the bathroom, toilets flush and taps spill and blue

paper towels dispense with the wave of a sensor. Germs,

cleanliness, DO NOT TOUCH. The ward is a bubble,

confined and contained, and I feel like Margaret Atwood’s

‘Girl Without Hands.’

No one can enter that circle

you have made, that clean circle

of dead space you have made

and stay inside,

mourning because it is clean.*

XLVII

He used to give himself stigmata. Burning the hollow of his

hand with cigarettes. Pressing the red sieve tip into his heart

line, head line, life line. This is for you, he said, but I know it

connected him to himself.

XLVIII

The Catholic Church’s list of notable stigmatics is comprised

mostly of women, including St. Catherine of Siena. Born in

the mid-fourteenth century, she believed she was married

to Jesus, and that her (invisible) wedding ring was made of

his foreskin. Her stigmatic wounds were visible only to her,

and she suffered from anaemia. Every day, she fasted and

engaged in self-flagellation until she drew blood. In one of

many letters to her confessor, Raymond of Capua, she spoke

of a vision where she leads her followers into the wound in

Christ’s side, guiding an army into his blood.

XLIX

My birthday is the anniversary of the death of St. Ignatius

Loyola. Once a soldier, he was shot through the hip,

shattering his leg. I’ve never gone to war or been beatified.

L

There is no redness in death. Maybe this is where William

Gass’ interior blue comes in. But the body turns many

colours at the end: white, grey, blue, purple, a tinge of green.

The body spent and stopped and still is not red.

But when will the red stop?

When will I die?

  When will you?

#sinead gleeson #gorse #literary journal #writing #new irish writing #irish #your chroma #red

[hailey-halstead]

Hope

Hey guys!!! well here it is! my current pride and joy! :-) i’m so excited for you all to read this! i don’t own anything:-)

Sylvie didn’t want to do this. It’s been barely a month since they have broken up, things were still awkward. Feelings were still there, and that alone made it hard enough to have more than a three minute conversation. Yes, there were no hard feelings between the two of them, but the feelings that were there somehow were even worse.

But she couldn’t imagine going to anyone else for help, even though she knew practically the whole Intelligence Unit. She felt the most comfortable with her ex-boyfriend, as pathetic as that was.

She folded her arms over her chest as she waited for the woman’s attention, but she was busy with what it seemed like a tense phone call. Sylvie had no idea how long it would possibly take.

She couldn’t believe that she, yet again, had gotten herself in this situation. Except instead of witnessing a murder, this time she stumbled upon a incredibly important drug deal. Chicago had been dealing with significant drug issues lately, and the specific drug that was being dealt was one mentioned frequently on the news.

Her and Gabby had a call, but the location was a tight space where their ambulance couldn’t fit through. So they unfortunately had to park at an inconvenient location. Gabby stayed with the patient, while she kept going back and forth.

During her last run back to the ambulance, on a whim she decided to take a shortcut down an alleyway. She thought it was a good decision at the time, that she would be getting to Gabby and their victim faster.

And that’s when chaos ensued. There were only three men, but apparently they were three very important men. And even though Sylvie didn’t realize right away what was happening, they felt threatened.

They cornered her, demanding her ID. Saying if she would go to the cops, they would kill her. It was like she was reliving her past experience of witnessing a murder. They then had let her go, yelling threats as she left.

Gabby was suspicious, but didn’t say anything, as Sylvie played off her mood as just not feeling well. But right after shift ended, she hightailed over to the justice building, knowing she couldn’t keep silent.

The woman finally ended her phone call, turning her attention to Sylvie. “What do you need help with?” She asked, not even bothering to hide the boredom in her voice. She seemed to be quite young to be working at a reception desk here, but Sylvie didn’t dare voice this thought.

“Is Antonio Dawson in?” She asked, wondering if texting or calling him was actually the better idea. She had thought that talking in person was the best decision, but she was having second thoughts now. “Sylvie Brett.” She added, introducing herself.

He wouldn’t turn her away. She firmly told herself, trying to squash her doubts. They were on good terms considering their breakup. Not many exes could say that.

“Why?” The woman was going to give Sylvie a hard time, apparently. “Is he expecting you? She threw another question out, raising an eyebrow.

“Not…..exactly.” Sylvie didn’t expect an interrogation, and was now feeling a little flustered. “But it’s very important.”

“How do I know you aren’t coming in here with plans to kill our lead investigator?”

“What?” Sylvie spluttered out, not expecting that reply at all. “Please,” She resorted to begging. “I really need to see Antonio, so if you could just let me go see him that would be great—”

The woman didn’t answer her, her eyes looking behind her. “Investigator Dawson!” She called out. With that, Sylvie turned around. And a few feet away were both Antonio and his partner, Lori Nagel.

“Yeah?” He responded, having not seen Sylvie yet. Or he’s ignoring you, Sylvie told herself. They weren’t like that, each time they saw each other they made sure to say hello and chat. Besides, she wasn’t directly in his line of sight and her blonde hair was tucked back into a beanie.

But Lori noticed, raising an eyebrow at Sylvie in confusion. She just shrugged back, giving her a weak smile. Sylvie had only met Lori a few times and didn’t know her that well.

“This woman here says she needs to see you, claims she knows you.” The woman informed Antonio, her entire demeanor doing a complete three-sixty now that the man was present. She was leaning forward, a smile on her face, her voice having no trace of the boredom from just minutes ago.

She was flirting with him, Sylvie thought with amusement. However she couldn’t ignore the small pool of jealously beginning to form in her stomach. With that realization, her face began to flush. Her and Antonio weren’t in a relationship anymore, she didn’t have any claim to him. He could do what he wanted, she reminded herself. They did say they would check back in after some time, but they didn’t have to follow that plan. She was here for help, not to obsess over her ex.

When Antonio turned his head towards Sylvie, surprise took over his face. “Sylvie?” He walked up to her, eyeing her with confusion and also concern. “Is something wrong?”

He knew her well. “Yeah, actually there is.” She confessed, her hands beginning to rub her upper arms as she tried to calm her nerves. She was aware that both Lori and the receptionist were listening in on them. “Is there a chance we can speak in private?” She questioned, before becoming apologetic. “I’m sorry that I just showed up here. If you’re busy I can go—”

“No, no you’re fine.” Antonio interrupted her. He began to reach out for her arm, but quickly placed it back at his side. “I wasn’t doing anything, actually. You came at a good time.”

“Really?” Sylvie said with relief, feeling her nerves begin to slightly go away. She knew how busy Antonio was. “You’re sure that it isn’t a problem?”

“No, absolutely not.” He turned back to Lori. “I’ll see you in a few?”

She nodded. “I’ll text you if anything comes up.” She said. “Nice to see you, Sylvie.” She added before she began walking in the other direction.

“You too, Lori.” Sylvie called as she walked away.

Instead of leading her to a more private location, Antonio approached the reception desk. “I’ll give you a list of people you can just send back, no questions asked.” He informed her. “Make things easier, for both you and those individuals.”

Sylvie turned her head slightly, not wanting to be intruding on his conversations. But a few seconds later, she felt a hand lightly touch her elbow, and when she looked to her left, Antonio was there.

She instinctively moved her arm back, away from his touch. She had to be careful, to not give her mind any ideas. And more importantly, Antonio any ideas.

“Follow me.” He said, beginning to walk deeper through the justice building. He looked back once to make sure she was following, but other than that, there was only silence between them.

Sylvie had been to the building before to visit him, but never his office. He had meant to show her, if they were still dating she probably would have seen it by now, but they never got the chance.

He stopped walking, opening a door and gestured her to go in. She went, guided mostly by her curiosity.

It was nothing fancy, pretty simple. The only thing that stood out about his office were the pictures of Diego and Eva on his desk.

“Nice place.” She complimented, glancing around briefly as he shut the door behind him. She turned back towards him, knowing that she couldn’t keep him from his job for long. There was no need for small talk.

“Thanks.” He walked deeper into the room, by his desk.

“So I have gotten myself in a potentially dangerous situation.” Sylvie decided to dive right into her dilemma.

With this reveal, Antonio became even more concerned. “What’s going on?” He asked, moving closer to her, shortening the distance between them. “Sylvie, please tell me this isn’t like the last time—”

“It isn’t!” She reassured him, but then began to naw on her lip. She couldn’t lie to him, it basically was the same scenario as months prior. Only this time it wasn’t a murder she witnessed, but a high profile drug deal. “Actually, sort of.” She confessed, yet again internally berating herself for going to Antonio for help. She knew that he still had feelings for her, as did she, and that could possibly make everything more messy. But there was no need to worry about a decision she had already made, and she could only focus on the here and now.

“Tell me everything.” Antonio said softly, but Sylvie knew it wasn’t a request, it was a demand. He was now leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, giving her his full attention.

Sylvie cleared her throat, ignoring how attractive Antonio was looking, and dove right into her story. He intently listened to her explanation, only interrupting when she began to talk about taking the short cut down the alley.

“You went down an alleyway in that part of town? Don’t you know better?” He demanded.

She began to feel defensive. “Hey, I was thinking of my patient and his well-being.” She snapped. “I don’t appreciate you judging my decision, acting like my boyfriend.”

Silence. The tension between them immediately faded, Antonio backing down once he heard her words.

“Sorry,” Sylvie stuttered out, feeling mortified at what she said. She was asking a factor, and she just snapped and clearly hit a sore point. “I’m so sorry, Antonio—”

“No, it’s fine.” Antonio shook his head, raising his hand to stop her from talking. “I shouldn’t have said those things, it’s not my place.”

“We can’t let our emotions into this.” She said aloud, just as much for her benefit as his. She didn’t come to him for help to be faced with both their old and current feelings with each other, she came to him because she thought he was the best person for the job.

“Don’t fool yourself, Sylvie.” Antonio sighed, looking perturbed. “Our emotions are already in this.”

“Yeah.” Sylvie managed to find her voice quicker than she expected. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that they had something much more important to discuss than their current dysfunctional relationship. “I’ll get back to what happened.”

This time he didn’t interrupt her, listening to her whole story quietly. She made sure her eyes were focused on the ceiling, not wanting to see his facial expressions.

“So, that’s what happened.” She finished, lowering her eyes to finally look at Antonio’s face.

All she saw was a clenched jaw and his two hands brought up to cover his face. After a few long, tense seconds, he brought his hands back down, and his face was erased from every previous emotions.

“I’ll start looking into it, get information on the guys you described.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, beginning to type out a message. “I’m letting the Intelligence Unit know, they can get on this as well.”

“Should you let them handle it?” She questioned, knowing he had other things to handle for Stone. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

“No, I’m taking the lead.” He shook his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “If I wasn’t, I would only be thinking about it and not be one hundred percent focused on my job.” He said, before turning his attention back on Sylvie. “Did you come here alone?” He asked, concerned.

She nodded, but quickly began talking before Antonio had a chance to complain. “It’s in the daytime, I’m going straight home, I’m fine.” She assured him, heading towards the door. “Um, I’ll let you know if anything happens, though. If that will make you feel better.” She said, before realizing that was kind of etching into relationship territory. “Or I could let Intelligence know—”

“No, please call me if something comes up.” He quickly responded, following her to the door. He opened it, gesturing her to leave first. She did, beginning to head down the hallway, assuming their conversation was over.

“Sylvie, wait!”

She turned around, realizing that she didn’t say a proper goodbye. She was about to open her mouth to say one, but he began talking.

“Stop feeling bad for asking me for help.” He told her, catching her off guard. She wasn’t expecting him to take that route, but she gave him a little nod, encouraging him to continue. God knows if she just tried to apologize again he wouldn’t listen to her.

“I’m more than happy to help you, I still care about you, Sylvie.” He said softly, his voice going down to a whisper so people passing wouldn’t be able to hear. “So no matter how awkward it can potentially get, please stop apologizing and feeling guilty.”

“Deal.” Sylvie agreed, but knew she couldn’t help herself to the guilt. But she had her own tidbit to add. “And I don’t what you to put immense pressure on yourself to help me.” She pointed a finger at him, knowing him well. “All I expect of you is to do your job, and if anything happens we don’t expect than it isn’t your fault.”

“Deal.” He echoed her.

“Now that we have everything cleared up and out in the open, I’m going to go.” She tipped her head towards the front entrance. “Thanks for everything, again.”

“No problem.” Antonio said, heading in the direction that Lori Nagel had went earlier. “I’ll text you with any updates.” Was the last thing he said before he disappeared down the hallway.

Sylvie didn’t move, letting herself take in the past 20 minutes she just experienced. She had gone to her ex boyfriend for help. Said ex boyfriend agreed to help her, meaning they will be in contact for the next how many days. While they still had strong feelings for each other.

“Well, there’s no backing out now.” She muttered to herself, heading down the stairs to the front doors.

***

Antonio rushed to Stone’s office, knowing the man was certainly not appreciating having to wait. He had hoped that he was going to be content with just Nagel, but apparently he wanted his lead investigator. He was getting updates from his partner throughout his conversation with Sylvie, demanding him to come soon and also why he bailed on their meeting with their boss for his ex girlfriend.

He was surprised to see Sylvie, and also concerned. She wasn’t the type to seek him out without a reason, especially with their relationship ending the month prior. He knew, without knowing what was completely going on, that whatever was happening it was important.

And it certainly was. When he heard that she was in danger, he was tempted to text Stone to let him have a couple days off to focus on helping Sylvie. But he realized that wasn’t the logical and healthy choice, and decided to ask Intelligence for assistance.

Not being in a relationship was easier on him, he was able to admit that. He only had to worry about his work and kids. It was sure a hell lot more lonely though. Plus multiple other negative reasons. And ending relationships were a lot easier when you both didn’t have feelings for the other person anymore. However, he, and he bet Sylvie could agree on this as well on her part, could not deny there were still strong feelings between the two of them. And when apart they were able to focus on themselves and not think about the other too much, but since they were going to be in contact multiple times these next few days Antonio had no idea what was going to happen on that front—

“Nothing’s going to happen.” He said aloud, fighting against his most recent thought. He was going to do his job, which was helping Sylvie and keeping her safe. Her being his ex girlfriend didn’t have to be a part of the equation at all.

Why was he kidding himself? He had just told Sylvie that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his emotions out, and that was the truth. He still cared about her deeply, and he was going to make sure that nothing was going to happen to her. He could recognize his feelings for her, but not act on them. He was a professional, he could do this.

His conversation with himself ended when he reached Stone’s office. He sighed, and opened the door, knowing he couldn’t let both of them wait any longer.

“Finally.” Stone grumbled, getting up from his chair. Stone was an easygoing guy, except when he was kept waiting.

“How’s your girlfriend?” Lori asked, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Yes, explain to me why you’ve been keeping us waiting while you were making kissy faces with your girlfriend.”

“Ex girlfriend.” He reminded them, taking the seat next to Nagel. “And it was important, she’s gotten herself into a potentially dangerous situation and I’m helping her with it.”

“But that’s not your job anymore.” Stone felt the need to remind him. “Both personally and professionally.”

“It won’t interfere with work, I promise.”

“It already has!” Stone pointed out. “You were 20 minutes late to this meeting!”

“Sorry, Stone.” Antonio didn’t care what backlash he was going to get from his boss, he was going to aid Sylvie with her dilemma. “I’m a part of this case.” Before the attorney could rebuttal, Antonio quickly added a piece of information that could possibly get him off of his back. “I’m contacting the Intelligence Unit of my old district, they will take some of the load off of me.”

Stone sighed, not finding fighting his investigator to be useful. “Fine.” He gave in. “For what it’s worth, I hope everything goes well and no one gets hurt.” He added.

“I appreciate it.” Antonio thanked him, ignoring how Lori was rolling his eyes next to him. She was a total smart ass.

“You weren’t going to take no for an answer, anyways.” Stone begun pulling out papers from the files on the top of his desk. “Now let’s get down to business, okay?”

***

Sylvie couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief when they got back from their final call of the day. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. And with the whole fiasco of witnessing that drug deal, her exhaustion was intensified. She barely slept last night, being kept awake by her fears and old memories of months prior. Plus, Antonio hasn’t texted her at all, meaning there wasn’t any information found yet.

She walked to the locker room in silence, wrapped in her own thoughts. She was about to leave when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

She jumped, taken by surprise. But when she turned around, she met the familiar face of Gabby’s. “You’ve been acting weird these past couple days.” She noted, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Sylvie shrugged, not wanting to make an issue out of something that was potentially not a problem. There could be a chance that Antonio and the Intelligence Unit would be able to get this dilemma over and done with without complications. She didn’t need to have people worry.

“I think it’s just been a couple of those days, you know?” She told Gabby, walking out of the locker room with her. “I probably need to clear my head.”

“Molly’s tonight then?” She asked as they navigated their way through the house. Sylvie made a face, not feeling a night out to be the best place with her current thoughts. “Come on!” Gabby persisted, seeing the face Sylvie was pulling. “An hour, that’s it. Blow off some steam.”

Sylvie gave in, thinking it could be for the best. “Fine.” Gabby cheered at her victory, making Sylvie roll her eyes and smile.

“I bet this will perk you up.” Gabby declared as they began to part ways. “Some alcohol is what you need.”

“We’ll see if you’re right.” Sylvie told her as she headed towards her car, waving goodbye even though she was going to see her at the bar shortly.

Not too long after she left the firehouse, she arrived at Molly’s. And luckily, it didn’t seem too packed. Another plus: Antonio Dawson wasn’t in sight. She scanned the bar again, looking to see if Gabby had already arrived.

“Sylvie!” Stella called from a booth. “Over here!”

Sylvie approached the firefighter. “Not working behind the bar tonight?” She asked, sliding into the booth. To her surprise, her favorite drink was already on the table.

“Nope.” Stella popped the p. She then answered Sylvie’s unasked question. “My intuition told me you would be coming tonight.” She tapped on her brain.

Sylvie gave her a disbelieving look. She hardly doubted that.

“Fine! Gabby told me.” Stella admitted, taking a sip of her beer. “You couldn’t play along, could you?”

Sylvie shrugged, picking up her glass. “I guess not.”

Gabby then appeared, going into the booth where Stella was already inhabiting. “Now isn’t this what you needed?” She asked Sylvie, a triumphant look on her face.

Sylvie honestly thought it wouldn’t help, going out to Molly’s, but to her surprise it has taken her away from her thoughts that haven’t left her alone since yesterday. “I’ll hand it to you, Gabby.” She admitted. “I think this was what I needed.”

The three of them then spent the next hour talking about mindless things, with mostly Gabby and Stella contributing the topics of conversation. Sylvie was more than happy to be the listener, hearing about what was currently going on in their lives. She didn’t realize how much more was happening in their lives than hers.

She refocused on the two women in front of her, as Gabby was telling another story. “So last weekend we had our dreaded Dawson lunch. It was the first time my parents were together since the anniversary party—”

“Why would you and Antonio put yourselves in that bullpen?” Stella interrupted, looking dumbfounded. “Are you two crazy?”

“Short answer: yes.” Gabby said, rolling her eyes. Sylvie’s own heart throbbed at the mention of Antonio, but she pushed away her feelings, keeping her attention on Gabby’s story.

“Long answer?” Stella pushed, resting her hands on her chin.

“We had to talk about legal stuff, short version of the long version.” Gabby explained. “What didn’t help was that Antonio was on his phone the whole time.”

“Your parents probably didn’t like that.” Stella said, sneaking a peek at Sylvie to see her reaction. Sylvie noticed, but remained quiet. They didn’t have to get all weird because they were talking about her ex boyfriend.

“They laid off of him when he said he was doing work for a case.” At that, Sylvie perked up. Was it hers? Did he get more information?

“Does he usually do work when out for lunch with someone?” Stella wondered aloud. To Sylvie’s dismay, Stella then asked her a question. “Did he ever do that when you guys had dates?”

Sylvie had never wanted to be swallowed up by a black hole more than she had in that moment.

Luckily, Gabby answered Stella’s first question. “He said he was doing a favor for someone.”

“Something that couldn’t wait until after family bonding time?”

“Apparently not. I tried to get some more details out of him, but he just mentioned a high profile drug deal.”

With that, Sylvie choked on her drink. Luckily they didn’t notice her reaction, still discussing the lunch. Sylvie couldn’t let herself keep listening, her mind wrapped in Antonio and the case. Suddenly, she felt even more exhausted than earlier.

She stood up, throwing her purse over her shoulder. This time she caught both Stella and Gabby’s attention.

“Leaving so soon?” Stella tilted her head, confused. Then realization came over her face. “Oh, we don’t have to talk about Antonio anymore—”

“It’s not that.” Sylvie shook her head. It was. Partly. She pulled a few dollars out of her purse, putting them on the table. “Thanks for buying my drink.” She told Stella. “I’ll see you guys on Monday.” They all had tomorrow off, which Sylvie planned spending in the comfort of her apartment, needing some relaxation after the past few hectic days.

“You sure this isn’t about us bringing up Antonio?” Gabby pressed, concerned. “Because we don’t have to talk about him, we understand.”

“I’m just really tired.” She fibbed, which wasn’t that hard considering the fact she was really tired. But she probably would have stuck around longer if Antonio wasn’t mentioned.

“Okay.” They gave in, to Sylvie’s relief. “Be careful.” Gabby added.

“I will.” She promised, beginning to take a few steps backwards. “Bye!” She called over her shoulder as she was now facing the other direction.

She couldn’t back a sigh of relief when she stepped outside, knowing at last she was heading home. She was bound to get better sleep tonight than yesterday.

Since Molly’s wasn’t packed, she was able to get a close parking spot to the bar. She got into her car, making sure to turn up the heat, and began to drive away.

Molly’s was right dab in the middle in between her apartment and the firehouse, so she got home in the same amount of time it had taken her to get to the bar. However, it had seemed longer than usual, probably because of her eagerness to get home was more than it usually was.

She didn’t notice anything suspicious when she got into the building and went up the elevator, but when she reached her floor she immediately began feeling uneasy.

She pushed herself forward, telling herself that nothing was wrong, she was only more cautious than usual. When she approached her door however, she knew she had a major problem.

“What the hell?” She muttered, seeing that her door was slightly ajar. Even though she was beginning to feel scared, she pushed the door open, and was flabbergasted by what she saw.

Her apartment was trashed. Couch cushions thrown across the room, pictures knocked down. She gasped when she realized her TV was smashed, glass bits scattering across the ground.

She didn’t want to take a step into her apartment alone, feeling too creeped out. Digging into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone, finding the number of the first person she thought of to ask for help.

To her relief, he answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Antonio.” She breathed, unable to hold back her relief of hearing another human’s voice. “Something happened, at my apartment. Um, can you over? Please?” She physically cringed when her voice gave in at the end, cracking slightly.

He yawned, making Sylvie realize that she had awoken him from his sleep. She felt mortified, but bit her tongue to prevent herself from automatically apologizing. Yes, she was calling her ex boyfriend, but she was also calling the investigator who was in charge of a case. And since she had information, she had to call him. Besides, he told her this exactly yesterday.

When Antonio began to speak, his voice had no hint of tiredness. He was completely alert and straight to the point. “What’s wrong?” He asked. Sylvie could hear him rushing around his apartment. She stopped herself from focusing on the background noises of the phone call, knowing she had to answer his question.

“Someone broke into my apartment.” She said, leaning against the hallway wall. She debated about closing her apartment door, but decided it was best to leave it open. Even though seeing the messy interior was making her uncomfortable.

“Stay calm, I’m on my way.” He said. Sylvie couldn’t help but roll her eyes and painfully grimace. He was using his boyfriend voice.

Now was not the time to talk about boundaries again, plus she couldn’t lie to herself: hearing him talk made her feel better, safe. “Thank you.” She gratefully told him.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone until I get there?”

Sylvie hesitated, tempted by the offer, but didn’t want to ask too much of him. She could handle herself for five minutes. She told him this, but was not surprised when he asked her again.

“You sure?” He asked again, seeming skeptical. “I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She made sure her voice was more confident and strong, wanting him to know that she was okay and he didn’t have to worry. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” He didn’t seem convinced, but thankfully didn’t press her anymore. “You can call me if you change your mind.”

Sylvie repeated her gratitude and then ended the call. Instead of putting her phone back in her purse, she slid it into her jean pocket, wanting the device to be close to her body to give her some comfort.

The quiet was both soothing and terrifying. Soothing because it was something she had always enjoyed—she spent a lot of her favorite activities in silence. Reading a book, doing chores around the apartment, cooking. But terrifying because her apartment was broken into so silence was not greeted warmly at the moment.

She leaned her head back against the wall, allowing herself to close her eyes. She placed her hands on her stomach, trying to center herself. She was going to be okay.

She didn’t realize she dozed off until she heard her name being softly called. “Huh?” She mumbled, blinking her eyes rapidly to try to be able to center her eyesight.

Crouching down in front of her was Antonio, eyeing her with soft, concerned eyes. “Sylvie?” He repeated her name again. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer him at first, only staring at him with confused eyes. Then her mind caught up to her and she remembered what events had just happened. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired.” She gratefully took the hand he offered to help her up.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaving Sylvie with no choice but to stare directly into his eyes. They were filled with intensity, but also warmth and kindness, showing how much he cared. Her heart throbbed painfully as she was forced to remember what they once were, only a short time ago.

What seemed like years to her, was actually only a few seconds before Antonio began to speak again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He repeated.

She nodded, trying to ignore how the warmth of his hands over her shoulders was making her whole body feel like it was on fire. “I’m frazzled, that’s all.” She took a step back, back against the wall again, knowing she couldn’t let herself be touched by Antonio for long. He put his hands down, sliding them into his pockets. They then had a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Well, at least it was to her. She had no idea what Antonio was feeling.

“We should check out my apartment.” She suggested, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t go in, well because—” She started to explain herself, but Antonio shook his head.

“No need.” He took a step towards her apartment door, before looking back at Sylvie. “You ready?”

She nodded, leaving her place against the hallway wall. When Antonio nudged her door open more, she hesitantly followed him into her apartment, trying desperately to ignore the chills going down her back.

“Damn.” She heard Antonio mutter as he traveled through her apartment, side stepping the clutter. Sylvie made sure to stay close behind him.

He cursed again when he stepped into her kitchen. But she couldn’t see over his body, so she shifted over and went around his side, now in front of him.

“What is it?” She was beginning to ask as she was moving past him. She completely forgot about her question as she saw what laid in front of them. She gasped at what she saw.

Pots and pans were everywhere, all of her kitchen utensils were dumped out, the drawers scattered across the tiled floor. And what dismayed her the most was her beloved grandma’s china, shattered into pieces.

“Oh my God.” She whispered, hands covering her mouth in shock. She stepped over the mess, heading towards the china. She gingerly picked up a few pieces of her precious heirloom, that was now destroyed.

“I’m going to call forensics.” Antonio spoke up behind her. “Will it be okay if I step out for a few minutes?”

Sylvie peered over her shoulder, where Antonio was standing, phone in hand. He stared at her, awaiting her reply.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Sylvie found her voice, nodding as she returned her gaze back to the glass in her hands. “I’ll be here.”

She analyzed some of her pieces in the palm of her hand. Maybe she would be able to save some of the set, she wondered. She frowned at her optimism, knowing that she had to accept the reality of what was in front of her: her china was ruined.

This was the first room, other than the living room, she has seen. Already one of her most precious treasures had been ruined. What disaster awaited in her bedroom, her bathroom, her closet? She placed the broken china down, beginning to overwhelm herself.

She needed to get out the kitchen, she realized. Yes, her living room wasn’t any better off, but at least she would feel less constrained in a larger area.

Antonio was still on the phone when she stepped into the living room, leaving her to have to distract herself. She headed over to her DVD rack, deciding to reorganize them to keep herself occupied.

She was halfway done with placing the DVDS back into the rack when she heard Antonio ending his call. She stopped sorting them, standing up and turning towards him.

“They’ll be here soon,” He said, as he approached her. “Do you want to go see your other rooms? Or do you need a moment to yourself?”

Sylvie frowned at the thought of being alone again. “No, no thank you.” She eyed her bedroom door, wondering what chaos was on the other side. “I’ll have to get this over with at some time. I have to see what happened.”

She begun heading towards her bedroom, making sure not to step on one of the picture frames. It was one of her favorites, she thought sadly to herself. From a couple years ago at a Brett family reunion, her and her immediate family. Now, it was ruined.

Once she was in front of her door, she realized that she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. Luckily, Antonio appeared at her side, a comforting hand put on her shoulder.

“Do you want me to go first?” He asked, and when she nodded, he grabbed the doorknob, slowly turning it to open the door.

Unlike when he entered her kitchen, Antonio was speechless this time with her bedroom. Sylvie didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, either way it was making her feel nervous.

He was blocking the entire doorway, so in order for Sylvie to slip past him she had to put her hands onto his back, edging him out of the way. Once she saw what her bedroom looked like, she never wanted this to be an actual nightmare more than she was feeling right now.

Her bed that she had perfectly made this morning was now destroyed, comforter and sheets in a pile on the other side of her room. All of the clothes in her drawers were thrown all over the floor, and to her disgust, some of her bras and underwear were missing. Pigs.

But what was written on the wall held most of Sylvie’s attention. In thick black sharpie, ‘Look out Sylvie Bret’ was right above her bed frame.

“They spelled my name wrong.” She pointed out, a weak attempt at humor. “How rude of them.” Her voice was breaking at the end. She then shut her mouth, afraid that if she said another word she would break down in tears.

“Do you want me to call Gabby?” Antonio asked beside her. The state of her room had grabbed so much of her attention that for a brief moment she had forgotten that she wasn’t alone. The urge to grab ahold of him was strong, not because of her feeling for him, but for the comforting contact of another human being. She resisted this urge, telling herself to be content with the presence.

“I don’t want her to get involved in this.” Sylvie protested. “What if they go to her place next?” Matt and Gabby would gladly let her stay with them, but she didn’t want to burden them. They were newlyweds, even more so as they couldn’t enjoy it at first because of the custody battle of Louie. She didn’t want to put more drama into their lives.

“She would be upset with you staying here—” Sylvie heard the unspoken words of what he was saying: that he would be upset if she stayed here.

A possible agreement came into her mind. “I’ll stay at the firehouse.” She decided. Unfortunately, Antonio was more upset by this plan, finally letting his inner emotions out.

“That’s even worse!”

“How is that worse?” She fought back.

“You’ll be alone—” His voice was getting louder.

“Exactly! I’ll be alone! No one else in danger—”

“Damn it, Sylvie, what about you?” He was shouting now, surprising Sylvie into silence. The last time he had yelled at her was their breakup last month. Now that he had her attention, he continued talking. “Your apartment is trashed, destroyed! Even more than that, you’re being threatened!” He flung his arm out to point at the words on her wall. “They probably followed you home yesterday! Or looked up your information!”

“They took my driver’s license—” She tried to explain, but his words stuck in her head. What if they did follow her?

“What would have happened if you were here when they arrived?” He continued on, showing how affected he was about her entire situation. She shouldn’t have gotten him involved. This was an absolute mistake.

“They could have taken you. You could be a hostage right now, or worse, dead!”

“But I’m not! I’m here, I’m alright..” She began to reassure him, taking a step closer to her ex. He was falling apart at the seams, Sylvie didn’t know how he was keeping himself together still. “Antonio, I’m alright.”

He finally became silent, staring at Sylvie with glistening eyes. She was unable to speak, taken aback by the intense emotions in his eyes. She had never seen him this way before.

“I—”

“You’re staying at my place.” They spoke at the same time, only he was able to get his full sentence out before she did.

“What?” She gasped, unable to hold back her shock. “I can't—”

“Yes, you can.” He wasn’t backing down. This was going to be hard to get out of, Sylvie realized.

“Antonio, I know this is already hard on you, being here and helping me—”

“I will feel better knowing you’re safe, trust me.” He interrupted her.

“This isn’t smart, we broke up.” She used her only card left, their past relationship.

“Which we ended amicably. And us being mature adults, I think we can handle this.”

“Adults who still have feelings present—”

“We can handle it.” He interrupted her. “I can handle it.” He emphasized, upon Sylvie’s skeptical look. “Also I’m already involved with your case, and I’m in danger all the time anyways with my day job.” He shrugged.

Sylvie sighed, he was giving good reasons and she knew she couldn’t pass it up. “Fine,” She gave in. “But only tonight. I’ll ask Kim to let me crash with her.”

Antonio seemed like he was going to argue, but thought better of it. “I guess that will work.” He said, but he wasn’t hiding his displeasure.

“You guess?” She echoed, raising an eyebrow at him. We aren’t dating anymore! She internally yelled at him.

Instead of responding, he began to leave the room. Puzzled, Sylvie reached out to grab his arm, wondering where he was going. She also was concerned about being left alone again.

As soon as she made contact with his arm he stopped walking, whirling around towards her, an action that caught her off guard.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, looking at her face for a sign of distress.

“Uh, no.” She stuttered out, feeling flustered by his closeness. “I was just wondering where you were going…” She trailed off, now beginning to feel slightly embarrassed.

“I was going to give you privacy when you packed your bag….” With his hand on the doorframe, it was apparent that he was itching to get out of the room.

She waved him off, picking up her duffel bag that was conveniently right next to her. Of course, it wasn’t anywhere near its original location, but Sylvie appreciated it nonetheless.

“You probably are getting tired of me, anyways. You deserve some time to yourself.” She joked, which he didn’t seem to appreciate that much. But he gave her a tight smile and left the room, saying over his shoulders “Call if you need anything”.

She began grabbing some clothes, not really caring about creating outfits. As long as she had a couple of jeans and some shirts, she would be fine. However, she couldn’t help but shudder when she approached her undergarments, noticing that it was her nicer pairs that were missing. She threw them into the bag, trying to not imagine the men who were here holding and examining her underwear.

The bathroom was an area she hasn’t even seen yet, she realized. Opening up the door, she couldn’t hold back a dismayed groan at the sight. They couldn’t at least one room untouched, apparently, as her toiletries were scattered across the tile floor. She begun scooping the necessities up, slipping them into one of her small travel bags.

She sat up from the floor, relieved to see her toothbrush still in its container. For some reason it wasn’t bothered with. Knowing that Antonio would let her borrow toothpaste, she left hers on the sink. But then she remembered that she was only staying for one night, and grabbed it just in case.

When she left her bedroom, bags in hand, she was about to call out Antonio’s name to let him know that she was ready to go, but the sight of him caught her off guard.

He was sitting on the cushion less couch, head in his hands. Sylvie debated about leaving briefly to give him privacy, but she found herself not being able to look away. He always put up a front with everyone, concealing his most vulnerable emotions. Sylvie understood why, it was part of his profession. He couldn’t let his emotions take over.

It shouldn’t have surprised her how emotional of a person Antonio Dawson was, as she spent enough time with Gabby to realize how vibrant the whole Dawson family was. But getting to see the side of him while they were dating that not many people got to see mystified her. Now that she was getting to see him like this again, she couldn’t make herself leave.

She decided to speak up, knowing that either she had to ruin the moment herself or she was going to be caught red handed by getting distracted. “Antonio?” She gently said his name, not wanting to spook him too much.

His head shot up, every previous emotion he was letting out now was being sealed back inside of him. He sat up from the couch, stretching his arms while asking if Sylvie was ready to go.

“I’m ready if you are.” She told him, stepping into the living room.

They were interrupted by a swift knock on the door, as a few people began entering her apartment. It was forensics, and they couldn’t have gotten to here at a more perfect timing. Sylvie was feeling a little uncomfortable about leaving her apartment before she knew that it was going to be fully investigated.

Sylvie assumed that Antonio was going to chat with them, but he only said a few words as he walked past, only stopping to gesture her to leave the apartment first.

***

Staying at Antonio’s last night had gone better than she expected. The only moment of tension was Antonio trying to convince her to take the bed. There was no way in hell she was going to sleep in her ex boyfriend’s bed, the same one she had slept in multiple times. That was a line she wasn’t crossing.

He finally gave in when he realized that she wasn’t budging, which was incredibly relieving to Sylvie as she was about to bring in their past relationship to try to give him reason.

Work was uneventful, except for the fact she had to notify Boden about her current situation. He was slightly upset, wished she would have notified him from the start, but was glad that she was safe. And to her relief, he allowed her to keep on working.

She was now at Kim’s, who had graciously allowed her to stay at her place. She had just changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, and when she came out Kim was sitting on the couch, beer in hand and a smile on her face. She wanted to gossip.

Sylvie groaned when she flopped down right next to her friend. “Nothing is happening between me and Antonio.” She jumped right into the topic, not wanting to dance around it. “Just a…..friend helping a friend.”

Kim made a face when Sylvie used the word friend. “Oh honey, you two are the furthest thing from friends.” She shook her head, taking a sip of her beer. “Especially when you two still want to bang each other.”

“Kim!” Sylvie yelled, slapping her on the arm. “We are trying to be very professional about this.”

“The key word here is trying.” Sylvie shouldn’t have used that word, she reprimanded herself silently. “But I don’t think you two are succeeding, at least on Antonio’s part.”

Sylvie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean?” Yes, she could notice her ex’s brief moments of letting his emotions and true feelings out, but she thought he was doing a rather good job overall at being a detective, not her ex boyfriend.

“He’s been in and out of our room over at Intelligence, wanting to be a part of almost everything with this case.” Kim revealed. “Very controlling, too. Telling everyone what to do, even snapped at Voight the other day, and Voight just took it, knowing that it was just his emotions talking.” Sylvie couldn’t hold back an awed wow at that piece of information, knowing that normally Hank Voight would never allow that. “Don’t you see how much he loves you?”

“That—” Sylvie started to rebuttal, but realized she had nothing to say. She couldn’t form another reason for Antonio’s behavior. But they had already known that they still had feelings for each other, so that didn’t mean anything had to change. She told Kim this, hoping that that could be the end of the discussion.

Kim sighed, shaking her head. “I love you both, but you guys are idiots.” She said, placing her beer on her coffee table.

“We’re trying to be mature adults—” Sylvie tried to say, before getting interrupted by Kim.

“No, you’re both being stubborn.” Kim corrected her.

Sylvie sighed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to change Kim’s mind. “Can we stop talking about Antonio? Please? It seems that is all I’ve been doing with my time. Seeing Antonio, talking about Antonio, thinking about—” She immediately stopped talking, realizing what she had just said. Damn it. It was all Kim’s fault, getting her all flustered.

Thankfully, Kim only gave her a small grin, beginning to change the subject. “Okay, fine. I have to tell you this hilarious story that happened at work the other day…”

The rest of the night became relaxing after they moved on from talking about Antonio. Kim had gotten her a glass of wine, one of her favorites. But both of them made sure they weren’t drinking too much, as they had to work in the morning.

“So how are you and Adam?” Sylvie asked, tucking her feet near her side. “Any further interactions beyond that kiss you two shared a couple weeks ago?”

Kim made a face, letting Sylvie know that that was a no. “It’s been……weird.” She said, trying to figure out what words to say. “The feelings are there, obviously. But it’s been an adjustment both working upstairs together. More for him, of course.” She rolled her eyes.

“What, going undercover for weeks wasn’t enough?” Sylvie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought it was.” Kim sighed, but then got a hopeful look in her eyes. “He wants to go out for drinks tomorrow, so that’s something.”

“I bet it will go great.” Sylvie reassured her friend, patting her leg.

“I hope so—” Kim started talking, but then her phone buzzed, taking her attention. She picked it up, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Woah, slow down.” She said to whoever was on the other line. “She’s right next to me, completely fine. He’s probably messing with you.”

Sylvie wanted to know what was going on, but knew she couldn’t interrupt Kim. She sat silently, trying to maintain her patience.

“Yeah, we’ll come up.” Kim stood up, beginning to grab her coat and keys. “Stop panicking, Antonio.” Sylvie’s ears immediately perked up at the mention of Antonio. “We’ll be there soon. I live super close, you know that.” She then ended the call.

“What’s going on?” Sylvie got off the couch as well, following Kim. “Is something wrong?”

“They got one of the guys.” Kim responded. “And you have to go down to check that it’s him, make sure.”

“Oh, okay.” Sylvie nodded. Great. Their peaceful, low-key girl’s night was now over. She knew having a non-hectic night was too good to be true. She then remembered what Kim told Antonio, that she was fine. “Wait, why wouldn’t I be fine?” She asked, confused.

“Apparently the guy was messing with Antonio, just saying some stuff.” Kim told her. “Now, are you going to go down there in your pajamas or are you going to get dressed?”

“Oh. Good point.” Sylvie looked down at her disheveled appearance. “I’ll be quick.” She promised Kim, grabbing her bag and running to the bathroom.

She slipped off her tank top and put on her comfy sweater she had brought in case she got cold at night, but it also worked as a piece of normal clothing as well. She then replaced her shorts with jeans, and after pulling her hair up into a loose ponytail, she exited the bathroom.

“You ready?” She asked Kim. Her friend nodded, as she was putting on her coat. Sylvie grabbed hers as well, and then began putting on her shoes.

“Let’s go.” Kim opened the door, letting Sylvie leave first so she could lock the door behind them.

It was strange being at the department when no one else was there. Sylvie recognized a few of the cars, meaning that most of intelligence was here, which she had to admit surprised her. She knew that this was a big case, but not this big. Where they doing work this late at night? Her mind then went to Antonio, who wasn’t even part of the Intelligence Unit anymore. He had to be exhausted.

“Did you know all of this was going down?” Sylvie whispered, even though she knew it was unnecessary. There was no one around, she could speak at a normal volume. But since it was already quiet, she felt like she had to be the same.

Kim was hesitant to respond. “Yes.” She admitted, unlocking the front door and opening it. No one was in sight, meaning everyone was upstairs. “But it all went fine, and honestly, Sylvie, I couldn’t really let you know—”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not mad or anything.” She shrugged her shoulders as they went up the stairs. “I was only wondering.”

When they walked into the main room of the Intelligence Unit, Sylvie was thrown off guard by the bruises and cut on Antonio’s face.

She immediately followed her instincts, dashing over towards him, gently grabbing his face. “What the hell happened?” She demanded, examining the damage. Nothing looked broken, but his cut needed some attention. “Has anyone looked at this?”

Antonio grasped Sylvie’s arm, lowering it from his face. “I’m fine, Sylvie.” He reassured her. “I’ll get it checked out after this.”

“But—” Sylvie begun to protest, still eyeing the gash, which was pretty deep. It could get infected. Antonio technically shouldn’t be involved in this case, and here he was getting hurt.

To her dismay, he ignored her, turning his attention to Voight. “Should we show her?” He asked, gesturing to the back room. Voight nodded, and with his confirmation, Antonio placed his hand on Sylvie’s upper back, directing her to the back.

They went into the room where they could observe the criminal, but he couldn’t see them. Sylvie noticed that both Erin Lindsay and Jay Halstead were in the interrogation room, they were the only two members of Intelligence who weren’t in the main room.

Sylvie was able to recognize him right away, he was the one who had taken her ID. “It’s him, he’s one of them, definitely.” She confirmed to Antonio.

Antonio didn’t verbally respond, only slightly nodding his head. He was about to lead her out of the room when they heard the man exclaim something neither of them particularly liked.

“Where’s that blonde bitch at? The one who got us all into this mess? We told her not to talk….” He grumbled. “She better watch her back.”

Sylvie scowled, not liking how she was being spoken of. Antonio reacted in a completely different way. He darted out of the room, headed towards the room the three were residing in.

“Hey!” She chased after him, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. “It’s not worth it, Antonio.” She shoved herself in front him, right between him and the door. “It’s just words, empty threats.”

“So your apartment being broken into was just an empty threat?” He shot back, temper rising. “This is serious, Sylvie.”

“I know this is serious, but—” She was about to reprimand him that he couldn’t let himself react like this, but he began to talk over her.

“I don’t think you do.” He countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not being concerned for your well-being.”

“I am! But I’m concerned about you!” She hissed out, making sure she wasn’t being too loud. “You’re putting too much into this case! This isn’t even your job! You’re beat up,” She pointed at his face. “You’re probably driving yourself exhausted! I know that you have to be up early for work tomorrow—”

“I’m fine.” He brushed her off. “What I’m worried about is you!”

Sylvie was on the edge of her patience. “This isn’t your responsibility! This isn’t your job, and you aren’t my boyfriend! Back up!” She loudly snapped, realizing a second too late that she went too far.

Antonio’s face hardened at her harsh words. “Fine.” He coldly replied, beginning to back up away from her. “I’ll leave you alone then, if that’s what you want.” He left in a hurry, not looking back even when Sylvie called his name.

“Fuck.” She cursed, running her hands through her hair. She really messed that up. Antonio was doing nothing but help her, and she treated him like dirt.

She debated about just hiding back here, not wanting to go and see Antonio. But when she gained up the courage to return back to the main room, he was gone.

“He went home.” Kevin Atwater said to Sylvie’s disappointment. “Said he was tired.”

That was hardly the reason, Sylvie thought bitterly to herself. But either way, she supposed it was a good thing he was going home to get some rest.

“Is there anything else I’m needed here for?” Sylvie asked, pulling her jacket tighter around her body. With Antonio gone, she was feeling more vulnerable, even though she was friends with the majority of the Intelligence Unit.

“No, nothing else.” Voight responded to her, but didn’t look up from the files in her hand. “You and Burgess can go.”

Was it really necessary for her to come all the way here for just five minutes? Sylvie bit her tongue, knowing that she should keep her mouth shut. She was happy enough that Kim was able to take her back to her apartment.

Their ride back to Kim’s apartment was silent, which Sylvie was both grateful and agitated over. A part of her didn’t want to talk about Antonio, but of course another part of her did. She decided to keep her mouth shut, looking out the window to distract herself.

Thankfully they arrived to Kim’s place in no time. Sylvie was extremely eager to change into her pajamas and go to sleep, let herself forget temporarily about her fight with Antonio.

“Someone seems eager to go to sleep.” Kim pointed out, watching Sylvie rush around the apartment to get ready for bed. “Did something happen back there?” She asked.

Why did she have to be friends with an intuitive detective? She was not going to have a conversation about her drama with Antonio when she was this exhausted. “I guess just seeing the guy made me feel really overwhelmed.” She fibbed, shrugging her shoulders as she began to situate herself on the couch.

Luckily, Kim completely laid off of her with her fake explanation. “I’ll let you get to sleep then. Night, Sylvie.” She softly said as she went to her bedroom, turning off the lights before she went.

Sylvie turned to her side, letting herself fall asleep and her unconsciousness take over. She deserved a break from thinking about Antonio Dawson. And how much of an idiot she was.

***

“Ambulance 61,” The overhead called, signaling to both Gabby and Sylvie that they had to go. Sylvie threw the remains of her lunch in the trash on her way to the vehicle. Unlike most days, she was looking forward to every call, a needed distraction to what was going on in her personal life. But needless to say, Gabby was getting confused by Sylvie’s different moods. It was getting harder to keep all of this a secret from her.

“I have no idea what is going on with you.” Gabby sighed as she pulled out of the firehouse. Sylvie was in the process of putting on her seatbelt. “But whatever it is, I hope everything works out.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sylvie sighed, keeping her gaze focused out the window. Gabby didn’t push her any further, thankfully. But she could practically feel the concern radiating from her partner. When all of her current secrets would come out into the open, she hoped that Gabby wouldn’t be too upset with her.

They pulled up to an empty warehouse, nothing else in sight. “Probably some stupid kids.” Sylvie guessed.

“If there’s kids, there is a better chance that there will be more than one injured.” Gabby pointed out with a frown.

Sylvie grabbed the bag right next to her. “How about I peek in and check it out? I’ll call over if you need to call for another ambo.” She told her friend, walking towards the building.

Gabby seemed wary about Sylvie’s idea. “I don’t know, don’t you feel a weird vibe coming from all of this?”

Sylvie was having a weird vibe about everything lately, so she couldn’t be a good judge of this situation. She shrugged, hand on the rusty door. “I’m just going to peek in.” She reassured her partner, beginning to open the door. “No worries—”

When she opened the door, a large hand darted out and pulled her in. She let out a yelp of surprise, and the last thing she heard before the door closed was Gabby’s yelling.

The warehouse was dark, the only light being let in was from the upper windows. So she was able to see the outline of the others in the room, but was unable to detect faces.

She heard banging on the warehouse door, letting her know that she was locked in. She was led to a chair in the middle of the room, forced into it harshly. It was a surprise that she didn’t topple over. The lead man thrusted his face directly in front of hers, a menacing scowl on his face. As well as terrible breath, which Sylvie found to be quite worse.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Sylvie Brett.” He said in a mocking tone. Sylvie had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from saying anything that could set of these guys’ tempers. And also not to spit in his face, something she really had the urge to do right now.

He continued talking, oblivious to the thoughts going through Sylvie’s head. “We told you not to tell anyone, and you go tell the State Attorney’s lead investigator. And one district’s entire team of detectives. Not a smart move, dear.”

Sylvie let out a surprised groan of pain when he reached out to tightly grip her chin. That would sure leave a distinct bruise, she thought bitterly to herself.

“What do you want from me?” She managed to say, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from falling out of her eyes. She did not want to appear weak in front of them.

“Just to show you what happens when you don’t listen,” Another man spoke up, making sure the knife in his hand was in Sylvie’s direct line of sight.

She wanted to hold them off as long as possible. “You know that the police are going to end up finding us.” She informed them. “The dispatchers know my exact location. They’re going to come here.”

“But I bet my partner took pictures of your cars, so if you take me somewhere else, your plates would be easily identified…”

“Shut up, bitch! We know that you are just trying to scare us!” The main one slapped her harshly across her face, the sound echoing throughout the warehouse.

“I’m not trying to scare you!” She argued back, not following her own directions of remaining silent. “I’m telling you the truth!”

Her talking back earned her another violent assault, this time kicked in her stomach. She toppled out of the chair, luckily landing on her side instead of her head.

“Your lover boy isn’t going to come save you.” He sneered, walking closer to her. The others were cackling behind him, finding pleasure in her pain.

Sylvie was confused at the mention of a lover boy, but then realized he was talking about Antonio. She scowled at his teasing, as her heart throbbed at the bringing up of her ex. She wondered how he was handling all of this, he had to have known by now. And even though she was normally an optimist, she also wondered if last night’s fight was the last conversation she would ever have with him.

“Oh? Did I hit a soft spot?” He asked, leaning down towards her. “Does that make you upset?”

She made another face at him, which quickly morphed into pain as he placed his hand on her head, squeezing it against the pavement.

She had enough of being made fun of. “Fuck you.” She spat out, glaring daggers at the man.

“Ah,” She groaned as he pressed his palm harder against her head, making it feel worse than every migraine she has ever experienced.

“You’re going to regret saying that.” He whispered into her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the guy with the knife step closer, handing an object over. Her stomach tightened with fear, having no idea what was going to happen next—

The doors burst open. “Chicago PD!” Jay Halstead’s voice yelled out, as Sylvie heard footsteps of various others flood into the building as well.

At that same moment, Sylvie was yanked off of the floor, pulled roughly into one of the other men’s arms. She was about to yell in protest, but thought better of it when she felt a sharp knife put against her neck.

Her eyes refocused on the new setting in front of her: the entire Intelligence Unit, as well as Antonio and his partner Lori Nagel.

They all stopped moving, every pair of eyes zeroed in on Sylvie. She felt extremely uncomfortable, with every breath she took she felt the sharpness of the blade.

“Not big bad cops now, aren’t ya?” The man laughed. Sylvie’s eyes went to Antonio, who was looking absolutely frantic. She tried to tell him she was sorry with just her eyes, but she didn’t think he noticed. He was too distracted, caught up in the whole mess.

“Let up, Louis. You have no where else to go. Holding a hostage is useless.” Voight spoke up. He took a cautious step forward, hands raised up.

With that, the grip on Sylvie’s arms tightened and the knife was pressed closer. She flinched as she felt a sharp pain against her neck. She definitely was going to have a mark there. Hopefully it wasn’t bleeding too badly. But she couldn’t hold back a moan of pain. Which she immediately regretted a second later when she realized that Antonio would react badly.

“You son of a bitch.” She heard Antonio swear, and that’s when hell broke loose.

Somehow the man holding her got shot in the arm, allowing Sylvie to escape from his grasp. She was meaning to dash across to the other side, but as gunshots were going across, she simply ran to her right.

There was nothing to hide behind, leaving her in a frenzied panic. She had no gun, nothing to protect herself with.

If she kept herself still and quiet she probably would have had a chance to not have been noticed, but she wasn’t thinking logically at all. This caused one of the men to turn his attention towards her.

Sylvie let out a shriek when a gunshot went past her, only inches from hitting her body.

“Sylvie!” She heard Antonio yell. But with a gun pointed right in her direction, she knew that she couldn’t take her eyes off of the man in front of her.

When she saw the trigger being pulled, she couldn’t help but immediately squeeze her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to take over.

But nothing happened. No noise, no gun was shot, no pain was being felt. Confused, she opened her eyes, wondering what had happened.

Antonio had tackled the man to the ground, and they were currently battling over control of the gun. To Sylvie’s horror, the man had his finger over the trigger.

The whole thing seemed like it was happening in slow motion. The bullet went off, and which the close proximity of both Antonio and the man, she didn’t know which one had been shot.

Her heart dropped, her whole body felt numb. She had never felt this terrified before, so not in control of her emotions. It seemed like she was about to breakdown any second now.

She finally found her voice after staring at the two for an uncertain amount of time. “Antonio?” She said her ex’s name, trying to keep her voice from wobbling. “….Antonio?” She repeated again, louder this time, getting more frantic.

Before she could start yelling his name, he began to move, getting up off of the ground. Sylvie didn’t let herself wait any longer, she ran over to him.

“Antonio!” She grabbed onto his jacket, looking all over to see any potential damage. “Are you okay?” She asked, beginning to get teary eyed. Even though it was only for a couple seconds, she really thought he was hurt. “The bullet hit him, right?” She looked down, and her thoughts were confirmed: the man had a bullet wound right through his throat. He wouldn’t have survived that.

“Hey, I’m good.” He softly reassured her, gently removing her hands from his jacket. “I’m fine, not a scratch.” Once he was able to calm her down, he turned his attention to her.

He placed his fingers onto her chin, edging it upwards. Sylvie couldn’t help but immediately think of earlier when the man had harshly grabbed her chin, and how different it was being handled by Antonio now. “More importantly, how about you?” His other hand brushed against her throat, causing her to shiver. She couldn’t help but flinch when his finger went over the cut she had received.

“You should get that checked out.” He said with a frown, leaning his head in to examine it more. Sylvie began to squirm uncomfortably, he was practically breathing on her neck.

Thankfully, he realized what he was doing. “Sorry.” He said as he backed up. Now he was focusing on her other bruises that were unfortunately starting to darken.

“Ow!” Sylvie yelled out when he put slight pressure on the part of her head that was slammed against the ground. And to her shock, when he removed his hand, there was blood all over.

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged to the exit. “Where are we going?” She bewilderedly asked, looking towards the others in confusion. But they were paying attention to the men who had held her hostage. What Antonio was doing wasn’t bothering them at all.

“To the hospital.” He responded, and once they reached his car, he opened up the passenger door for her to get in.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She protested. But still got in the car, because no matter what, she would rather be there instead of at this warehouse were she was held captive.

“Trust me, you do.” Antonio said as he got into the driver’s seat. “Here,” He reached over to open the glove compartment, taking out some napkins. “Put that on for pressure.”

“Thank you.” She placed the napkins on the wound, surprised by how quickly it absorbed blood. She really was bleeding profusely.

“Now do you believe me?” He asked, and gave her a stern look when she began to loosen her hold on the napkins. “Keep maintaining pressure.”

With that little scene of concern, she remembered their fight the night before. “I’m sorry, Antonio.” She started to apologize. He gave her a look of confusion, probably wondering what she was talking about. She continued. “For last night, what I said.” She explained, as she finally saw recognition dawn in his eyes.

“Oh, that.” Was all he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “It did throw me off guard, I have to admit. But you were right. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should be, or focusing on my job. Hell, I have barely seen Eva and Diego these past couple days.”

“This is why we took the break, you know.” Sylvie hesitatingly brought up their break up. “For you to get more situated with your job and balancing everything. But I managed to mess everything up even more, even though we aren’t together.”

“You didn’t mess anything up, Sylvie.” He shook his head as he pulled into Chicago Med’s parking lot. “It was just how I handled everything. You had no direct influence on that.”

Sylvie nodded, not sure how to respond. They definitely needed to talk about their current relationship in more detail again. Thankfully, being at the hospital was an appreciated distraction. Even with a bleeding open wound on her head.

As she got out of his car, he quickly approached her, at her side in case she needed help. Sylvie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Yes, he was right that she needed to go to the hospital. But she wasn’t going to fall over or anything.

He noticed and shuffled to his right to give her more space. “Sorry.”

She shrugged as they approached the main entrance. “It’s fine. You’re just worried, that’s all.”

But he still kept his distance. When they entered the hospital however, he was the one that spoke up for her. “Maggie.” He called the head nurse over from the files she was looking at.

“What the hell happened to you?” She couldn’t hold back her shock, taking in Sylvie’s appearance. Sylvie’s eyes widened at the outburst, did she really look that bad?

At that moment, Will Halstead walked by. Maggie quickly grabbed onto his lab coat sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “You’re on a break, right? If I were you I would check out that nasty cut on her head.” She pointed to Sylvie.

The doctor was taken aback as well. “Holy shit, Sylvie!” He pulled her into an empty room. She noticed that Antonio followed them, taking a seat right next to the table that was now on. “What happened?”

“Uh, kind of was held captive in a warehouse. Got a little beat up, I guess.” She tried to play off the whole experience casually, but judging by the horror on Will’s face, she didn’t succeed.

“Kind of held captive?” Antonio incredulously echoed her, making a face. “Down playing it won’t make this any better.”

After putting on a pair of gloves, Will gave them both a look of confusion as he began examining Sylvie’s wound. “Are you two….” He trailed off, hoping they would both answer for him.

“No.” Sylvie responded quicker than Antonio. “He’s just been helping with an issue.” She vaguely explained, hoping he wouldn’t want to go info details, as she cringed each time Will prodded at her head. “Is it bad?” She asked.

“Not anything serious, just needs a few stitches.” He responded, backing up from her.

“Could you just do them right now?” Sylvie asked. At Will’s hesitation, she started to beg. “I can handle it, it just makes everything go by quicker.”

“And I have Antonio’s hand I can squeeze the hell out of.” She suggested, bringing the detective into the conversation. “So, what do you say?”

“Fine.” Will sighed, beginning to prep. “Only because I know you can handle it.”

Antonio stood up, approaching the end of the bed. “I’m honestly not surprised.” He commented, taking her hand into his. She was about to tell him that he didn’t have to hold her hand yet, but decided not to, enjoying the warmth and comfort.

“Here I go.” Will warned her, and a second later, she felt the pain. She begun squeezing Antonio’s hand, and tightly shut her eyes, imagining herself at any other place but this hospital room.

It seemed like it lasted forever, but soon enough he was done, putting down the needle. “Just come back in around two weeks to get these stitches out.” Then he frowned. “You didn’t drive here, did you?” He asked.

“I did.” Antonio spoke up.

“Good. So you can take her home.” Neither Antonio or Sylvie told him that she couldn’t go to her home, as it still was a mess. But Antonio still nodded, helping Sylvie off of the bed table.

“Thanks Will, I appreciate it.” She hugged her friend. “Sorry that you had to spend your break doing work.”

He shrugged, as he exited the room. “I’ll have more breaks.” He told her. “Now you take care of yourself!” And then he was gone.

“Kim’s place, right?” He asked as they walked through the parking lot.

Sylvie shook her head. “No, I’m staying at Erin and Jay’s tonight.” She replied. “She’s going out with Adam, both will come back later to the apartment, you know….” She trailed off. “You get the picture.”

He frowned at the news. “So you’re jumping around for places to sleep. That’s unnecessary stress.”

Sylvie shrugged. It was nothing compared to what she had just experienced. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come to my place.” When Sylvie began to persist, he still fought back. “No! No, it won’t be awkward—”

“It’s always awkward, Antonio—”

“I want us to talk beforehand. And if things go the way we both want it to, then everything will be fine.” Great. Sylvie knew that they would have to discuss everything at some point, but she didn’t expect it to be so soon. Guess she had to get it over with. “Sure. We can do that.” She slowly agreed as she got into the car, wondering what she was getting herself into.

The car ride to Antonio’s apartment unfortunately seemed quicker than usual since she was dreading her arrival. “Wait.” She spoke up. “My stuff is in my car at the firehouse—” This created a dilemma for herself, not wanting to not have any of things, but also not wanting to go to the firehouse and be bombarded by everyone asking if she was okay.

Antonio practically read her mind “I can go pick it up if you want.”

Sylvie rose her eyebrows at him, not expecting the kind offer. “Really?” She began pulling her keys out of her pocket. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” He pulled into an open parking spot right next to his building. “Here,” He slipped his hand into one of his pockets. “Take my key, get yourself situated. I’ll be back soon.”

She really didn’t deserve all of this kindness from him. “Thank you, Antonio.”

“It’s no problem.” He told her as he began backing up his car. She watched as he drove away.

She entered the building, wondering at what point entering it had became second nature. She pondered over this until she had reached the floor his apartment resided on. She pulled his key out of her pocket, unlocking the door.

Opening it, she was welcomed to the familiar living room of Antonio’s home. A part of her wished he had changed some things, make her viewing everything not hurt as bad.

This made Sylvie think about how kind and thoughtful her ex had been these past few days, dropping almost everything to help her. Even though a month ago he had opened himself up in the most vulnerable way by saying he would never be enough for her and not able to put her first, these past few days showed her differently. Yes, it was honestly too much, he put off everything else to focus on her. But yet again, she was reminded how great and good of a man Antonio was.

They ended their relationship for a reason. For Antonio to focus on his new job and juggling it with his kids and everything else. It seemed reasonable at the time. But these past few days have had Sylvie doubting their choice. Maybe they could conquer all of this chaos together. Honestly, if she could be with him, she felt like she could handle the hardships of being in a relationship with a divorced father of two. Everything seemed so different now…

Sylvie collapsed on the couch, thrown off by this revelation that has been slowly creeping up on her. Did she want to get back together with Antonio? She straight up asked herself, knowing she couldn’t dance around the answer forever.

Yes. Yes she did.

She jumped off of the couch at this realization, her mind now feeling like a tornado. She dashed to the kitchen, suddenly feeling a need for a cold glass of water.

“I’m being ridiculous.” She started to tell herself after she took a big gulp. “It’s just because I’ve been around him these past few days. Yeah, that’s it.”

But she wasn’t able to convince herself. It was no use, she could get rid of the thoughts of her and Antonio.

“I got to leave.” She realized, knowing she couldn’t stay the night with these feelings. Stella or Gabby could probably pick her up. They would ask multiple questions, but it was better than staying with the guy you want to reconcile with.

She placed the glass down on the counter, heading to the door ready to leave, when it was swung open by Antonio.

“Fuck,” The curse word slipped out as the man of her affections stepped into the apartment. “Uh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to get here so soon….” She trailed off, now feeling frazzled by his sudden appearance. She took a big step back, wanting to have a proper distance between the two of them.

He gave her a confused look, probably knowing she was up to something. But he didn’t mention anything, only holding up her bag. “Got it.” Was all he said, handing it over to her.

“Oh, thanks.” She took it out of his hands, placing it on the side table. Silence soon took over, as Sylvie had no idea how to voice what was on her mind.

“Is something wrong?” Antonio spoke up, taking a step forward, which made Sylvie take another one back. He cocked his side to the side, becoming even more confused. “Did I do something?”

“No, no.” She shook her rapidly, not wanting him to think it was his fault. Well, at least it was all indirectly. “I’m just going to go to sleep, if that’s all right with you.”

That made Antonio even more suspicious. “Sylvie, it’s only seven.” He pointed out.

“It’s been a long day!” She faked a yawn for good measure. “My mind feels like it has ran a marathon.”

“You’re avoiding me.” He realized, stepping closer. Sylvie wanted to move back, but she was against the back of the couch now, having nowhere else to go.

“No—”

“Yes.” He was beginning to get frustrated. “If you were going to be like this, why did you accept my offer? A few days ago you weren’t acting like this.”

“A few days ago everything was different, Antonio!” She cried out, not knowing how to keep her current emotions under control. “Since then, we’ve spent most of our time together, hell I spent the night at your place, then I thought you got shot and….” She stopped her rambling to let herself take a deep breath.

“What are you trying to say?”

“That we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Sylvie revealed, hands in tight fists at her side. “At all. Like if we see each other, we go the other way kind of deal—”

“What the hell, Sylvie?” Antonio looked like he had been slapped across the face. “You can’t expect us to—”

“Yes I can!” She shot back. “It hurts, Antonio. It hurts to be around you, no matter how good it can feel as well. Because the only thought that goes through my head now is how I want to be with you.”

Sylvie slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just confessed. Antonio looked just as confused.

“Do you mean that?”

Sylvie didn’t respond, not sure how to after dropping that bombshell.

Antonio took another step forward, now only inches away from her. “Do you mean that?” He repeated, his breath hitting her cheek.

“I....I..” Sylvie couldn’t find the words, and impulsively decided just to show him. She wrapped her arm around his neck and yanked him down to meet her mouth.

The familiarity of his mouth on hers was enough to send pleasurable shock waves throughout her body. His own hands cupped her cheeks, eagerly reciprocating.

But she realized what she was doing wasn’t the ideal way to potentially patch up a relationship. She had to use her words. Regretfully, she broke the kiss, letting herself catch her breath.

He leaned in to try to catch her lips with his, but she pushed him back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.”

“What I mean is that we should talk first, instead of me jumping on you.” She bashfully explained herself, not wanting Antonio to get the wrong idea.

“That’s what I was wanting to do all along, us to talk.” He agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s what I was planning on doing but then you began acting all weird.”

Sylvie gestured to the couch behind her. “Then let/s talk.” 

They situated themselves on the couch, both keeping their distance by sitting on respective sides.

“Okay.” Sylvie decided to go first, ignoring her nerves. “I want to be with you. I never got over you, but I thought I was able to handle it. Handle trying to move on. But all of this happened, and it made me realize that that is impossible for me.” 

“I think we could make this work, even with your job and mine and your kids plus dealing with Laura. We would have to be better at communicating, and handling all of this. And I think we can.” She passionately told him, resisting the urge to reach out and grab his hand. She decided on just awaiting his response.

Antonio seemed to struggle to find his words. “....I want to be with you too, Sylvie.” He finally spoke. “But I want to say what I said before. I have baggage that won’t go away, I won’t be able to put you first.” He sighed. “Honestly, I still believe you deserve better.”

“Then why are you sitting across from me saying you want to be with me?” She couldn’t help but point out, head tilted to the side. He kept saying reasons and excuses, but then kept on hanging around or coming back. It was only proving to Sylvie that their feelings for each other were stronger than the reasons for staying separated.

“Because I’m selfish.” He told her, leaning his head on one of his hands. “And I can’t ignore what I want.”

“Then don’t.” She said, taking a slight risk by pulling one of his hands into her lap. “We don’t have to go back to how things were, we can be a little bit more cautious, careful. Plan things out, as much as we can with our type of jobs, you know,” She added with an eye roll, to which Antonio cracked a smile for. “Continue to talk about things, not immediately jump into bed.” She suggested, intertwining her fingers with his. “That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He squeezed her hand. She squeezed it right back, being filled with an emotion she hasn’t felt for what it seems like forever: hope. And feeling it with her relationship with Antonio, she felt like she could conquer almost anything.

#my post #brettonio #brettonio fanfiction #brettonio ff #sylvie #antonio #gabby #stella #kim #hope #longest fic i have ever written