#life after lockup spoilers
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Taxi Driver 2 Ep. 12
After being kicked out of Black Sun and beaten up, Do-Ki is arrested by the police instead of them intervening. Despite Young-Min's help in bailing him out, Do-Ki now realizes that the police are working with Black Sun. Rainbow Transport infiltrates the club to bring them to justice for the crimes they are committing.
Season 2 Episode 12 "I Need To Get Back Inside"
The series is based on real-life heinous crimes committed in Korea and has received praise from viewers for its performances and storylines.
If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.
Episode 12 "I Need To Get Back Inside"
In Episode 12 of Taxi Driver Season 2, Do-Ki is taken into police custody on Guard Jang's orders. Go-Eun, Kyung-Koo, and Jin-Eon witness Do-Ki being taken away, while the mother of the minor arrives in an ambulance to take her son and his friend away. The woman berates Guard Jang for allowing her son in, and Jang blames his subordinate for letting something like this happen. Jang discovers that the children gained entry to the club through Windy. Jang requests that Windy's schedule be erased, which prompts the escort. She locates Jang in the VIP room and slaps him for causing her financial harm. Jang informs Windy that the club can handle situations such as rape or assault, but allowing minors inside is unacceptable. Windy attacked the chief guard by hitting im with her heel and breaking a glass bottle over his head as revenge. Yoo Moon-Hyun, the chief in charge of Black Sun, walked in and separated the two.
Meanwhile, Detective Jang Jin-Ho called Guard Jang to inform him about Do-Ki's arrest. During Do-Ki's interrogation by Senior Officer Jo Min-Geon, Detective Jang claimed that Do-Ki was being arrested on charges of molestation. Do-Ki was locked up and left in shock. Meanwhile, Go-Eun attempted to gather information to assist Do-Ki. She spotted the journalist from earlier that night entering the police station. Kim Young-Min, the journalist, managed to help release Do-Ki from lockup. During a meal and drinks, Young-Min and Do-Ki bonded, and the journalist shared how he saved Do-Ki using CCTV footage. Do-Ki praised Young-Min for his bravery in being beaten up by the guards at Black Sun to expose them. Young-Min advises Do-Ki to steer clear of Black Sun and requests that he refrain from interfering. At Rainbow Taxi headquarters, the sun group speculates about the events at Black Sun. Go-Eun discloses that the club had six owners, none of whom were the true owners, but rather individuals posing as such. To investigate the club, Do-Ki decides to use a method other than attending as a guest.
In one of the VIP rooms, Park Hyun-Jo, the chief of police and one of the club's owners, is with Victor. The idol thanks the cop for saving him from a DUI. Hyun-Jo signs the revenue chart for the month, which shows that Black Sun's monthly business is 5.64 million dollars. Hyun-Jo is invited by the idol to his comeback party, which will be held at a private resort with women that Hyun-Jo likes. Hyun-Jo informs Victor that the club is making a profit every month. Kyung-Koo and Jin-Eon successfully take down one drunk guard outside the club while Do-Ki abducts two others in his taxi. Moon-Hyun is frustrated that Guard Jang is unable to handle the other guards and contacts someone to get replacements from the gym.
Do-Ki is a gym-goer who was selected to work at Moon-Hyun's club due to his aggression, which he demonstrated by beating two other gym-goers. Guard Jang is surprised to see Do-Ki as one of the new guards, but Do-Ki lies and says he acted on instinct that day to avoid an argument. Moon-Hyun appreciates Do-Ki's attitude and asks him to report any minors seen in the club directly to him. Guard Jang has narrated a set of rules for the bouncers. The rules state that only men and women who meet certain appearance standards are allowed inside the club. The club only allows VIP males during peak hours at 12am. VIP women who meet certain appearances standards are also granted access after 12am. Windy and Jang bicker in front of the junior guards. Do-Ki is assigned as Guard #9 on the main dance floor and instructed not to intervene in any fights.
CEO Yang recognizes Do-Ki as the guard and appears pleased to see him. During his break, Do-Ki chats with the other members of the revenge crew. However, Guard Jang spots him there. To face Jang, Do-Ki puts on a scene and kicks Jin-Eon and Kyung-Koo out of the club's premises. Jang is shocked to learn that CEO Kang wants to meet Do-Ki and invites him inside. Jang informs Do-Ki that he will now be working with the VIPs. Like the other guards, Do-Ki must protect the alcohol bottle with his employee number (#9). If the bottle shatters, breaks or is stolen, Do-Ki will be responsible for it. He follows the VIP who was holding the bottle #9 and enters the VIP room. Do-Ki observes that the VIP clients are middle-aged women who are being entertained by male escorts. Fortunately, CEO Kang is also present in the same room and is conversing with Ha-Joon who is on his way inside the club.
A superior guard coincidentally calls Do-Ki out and swaps his employee ID with him. As a result, Do-Ki becomes guard #2 and is instructed to wait outside. Ha-Joon notices Do-Ki leaving the VIP area, but doesn't think much of it. Do-Ki witnesses two guards dragging a drunk VIP client into a car and is then asked to drive the woman home. In her VIP room, CEO Kang becomes suspicious when she finds someone else wearing the #9 badge. She ends up breaking a bottle, which frightens the guards and other guests even more. During a discussion about the bishop's arrival, Ha-Joon intervenes and puts on a show to entertain the guards. He fights three of them alone and manages to beat them all. The VIPs are entertained by the guards being beaten up. CEO Kang agrees to fulfil Ha-Joon's wish as per their deal.
Meanwhile, Do-Ki is concerened about the client who is passed out in his car but notices that another car is following him. he whispers to Go-Eun, asking her to run a check on the number plates. She discovers that the car belongs to journalist Kim Young-Min. Do-Ki attempts to escape from Young-Min, but the journalist crashes into his vehicle. Young-Min is recognized by the other guards in the car. The journalist rams into Do-Ki's vehicle in an attempt to stop him. Young-Min loses his balance and is about to be hit by a truck. However, Do-Ki uses his vehicle to save the journalist. He beats up the guards who come to check on him after using pepper spray. Do-Ki tells the journalist that they need to take the girl to the hospital as soon as possible. Young-Min informs Do-Ki at the hospital that the girl was drugged and at risk of sexual assault. The doctor confirms that the girl had drugs in her system and had reported it to the police. The woman is arrested by female officers while Detective Jang Jin-Ho reads her rights while she is still sedated.
Do-Ki and Young-Min observe as the girl is taken away, and the journalist appears angry. He returns to the car where the guards have just regained consciousness. Do-Ki pretends to be unconscious too, as the guards are concerned about losing the drugged girl. Later, after finishing his shift, Do-Ki meets with Young-Min at his house to discuss the case he was working on. Do-Ki discovers that Young-Min had been working to expose the Black Sun for a while. After Do-Ki insists, Young-Min admits that he was seeking revenge for the death of his friend, Choi Seung-Eun. Seung-Eun was killed after attempting to expose the Black Sun. The incident was reported as a suicide, but Young-Nim knows it was staged.
Young-Min holds himself responsible for the incident because he drove Seung-Eun to the Black Sun nichtglub where drugs worth millions were being sold. Seung-Eun had called Young-Nim for help, but reportedly killed himself before they could meet. The police showed Young-Min footage of Seung-Eun, who allegedly died by suicide due to loans and debt. Young-Min believes Seung-Eun saw something he shouldn't have at the nightclub and vowed to uncover the truth about his death. Young-Min inspected the tapes and noticed that Seung-Eun did not have the spy cam pen he was given. Additionally, Young-Min observed that Seung-Eun's demeanor had changed after leaving Black Sun. Furthermore, Black Sun framed Young-Min, resulting in his termination from his job. The journalist filmed himself on the rooftop hoping that Black Sun guards would kill him. This would draw public attention to the nightclub's wrongdoings. Do-Ki left Rainbow Taxi's contact information for Young-Nim before returning to headquarters.
Go-Eun and the others believe that fighting Black Sun is beyond their capabilities. However, Do-Ki is certain that Young-Min was also after the same target they were. Sung-Chul remains neutral on the situation and suggests that the nightclub, Black Sun, may have the answers to their questions. He recommends taking the case on. Meanwhile, Do-Ki reassures Go-Eun that everything will be okay. Later that night, Do-Ki drops off Young-Min after taking on his case. The group resumes using the taxi M5283, and the episode concludes.
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Real talk, is Michael’s dick encased in gold and diamond dust? Why are these women lining up to give him their time, affection and money when he’s made it quite clear that he aint shit and doesn’t actually care about any of them?
I’m so confused. Megan is in deep denial if she thinks he isn’t talking to other women romantically because they have “history”. He had “history” with his wife and it didn’t stop him from cheating on her with you, dummy.
What kind of deadbeat hasn’t seen or talked to his kids in months and then shows up with some new chick instead of focusing on his kids.
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Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 2
AN: I’m splitting episode 3 into two chapters because so much happens.
Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.
In this chapter: Despite your protests, Bucky seeks out Zemo (Based on S1 EP3)
(PART 1 HERE)
Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader
Word Count: 5,196
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language.
You watched Bucky as he sat beside you on the aircraft.
“Do you mind?” Bucky’s side eye didn’t make you look away.
“I’m just trying to see what’s going through that head of yours.” You confessed. You were all on your way to Germany to visit Zemo. It wasn’t a plan you were happy with but it was the plan.
“Don’t bother.” Bucky frowned, looking down at his hands on his lap. “And don’t ask me if I think this is a good idea again.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that.” You turned away from the man.
“What was it then?” Bucky asked.
“I was going to ask if you were sure you wanted to do this.” It was another question you had already asked 20 times or more but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of anxiety about this trip.
“She has a right to be worried, Buck. The last time you were alone with Zemo, you ended up putting (Y/n) through three windows.” Sam reminded you both of what happened the last time you were in Berlin.
“It won’t happen this time.” Bucky tried to reassure you both but you still felt uneasy.
After another hour or so Sam announced that you were almost there.
It was a short drive to the prison from the airport but once you were inside, you felt your chest begin to tighten again.
“He’s just through that corridor.” The German guard gestured up ahead and that’s when Bucky stopped you.
“Alright. Give us a sec.” Bucky instructed the security guard before turning to you and Sam. “I’m gonna go in alone.”
“Why?” Sam asked,
“You’re Avengers. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky said as he looked between the two of you.
“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.” Sam felt he needed to remind Bucky of the past again. However, Bucky stood his ground.
“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.”
“Buck...” You started,
“I got it.” He repeated himself before you could say anything else.
You watched Bucky head through the doors alone.
“Let’s wait outside. This place gives me the creeps.” Sam encouraged you to follow him to which you didn’t do without hesitation.
Sam brought you a hot drink as you sat on a bench outside.
“I forgot how worried he can make you.” Sam admitted as he sat down beside you.
“I’ve seen what he went through, Sam. All of it leading up to Zemo. I just... I don’t want it happening to him again.” You knew you couldn’t explain the extent of why you cared for Bucky.
“You love him.” Sam said. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement. “I can see it clear as day. Anyone could if they stuck around long enough.”
“Why are you bringing this up, Sam?” You sighed, looking away from him.
“Because it’s also obvious that he loves you too. You run around driving each other crazy with worry but you have none of the good stuff that comes with being in love with someone.”
“What do you know about love, Don Juan?” You chuckled as you tried to lighten the tone.
“I know it when I see it.” Sam smiled but there was a sadness behind his eyes.
“Things are complicated, Sam.” You muttered, “You already know that.”
“Well I also think that if Bucky got some he’d be a whole lot less angsty all the damn time.” You knew Sam only said it to make you laugh but you still gave him a whack for the comment.
“Shut up, Sam.” You shook your head, trying not to smile at the inappropriate comment.
Sam kept you entertained by a couple of silly games of rock, paper, scissors before Bucky returned.
“Come on, I got some information. We gotta go.” Bucky hurried you and Sam along.
“Just like that?” You were surprised that Zemo even spoke to Bucky at all.
“A location. I’ll explain everything once we get there.” Bucky wasn’t giving you much information and it was making you a little suspicious.
“Hey, hey, hey...” Sam ran after Bucky, stopping him. “You gotta give us a little more than that.”
“Zemo agreed to help us after hearing that there were more super soldiers. It was his life ambition to stop the winter soldier programme and he’s given us a lead.” Bucky explained.
“And you’re just gonna trust his word?” You probed.
“There’s not much else we can do.” Bucky did make a point.
It didn’t take long to reach the large warehouse/garage that Bucky wanted to go to.
Bucky on the way had started rambling about breaking Zemo out of jail in order to help you guys which sounded ridiculous to you.
“Tell me you’re joking, Buck.” You pleaded, unsure whether he had lost his mind entirely.
“He’s our best shot at finding who is making the serum and he’d be a lot more useful out than in.” Bucky opened the door to the building and you followed him inside.
“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam was just as lost as you were as he shot questions at Bucky.
“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.” Bucky sighed as you made your way in with your flashlights.
“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.” Sam argued.
“We also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose.” Bucky retorted.
“Anyway, I thought this was a lead?” You tried to look around but the place was badly lit. There were mainly mechanic tools and lots of storage scattered around.
“It’s complicated.” Bucky frowned.
“What’s complicated is Zemo. He’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offence.” Sam shone his flashlight at Bucky as he spoke.
“Offence.” Bucky didn’t look impressed as he found the light switch. “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.”
“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.” Sam stepped closer to Bucky. You couldn’t deny that Sam had a point. Zemo was the one who tore the avengers apart by framing Bucky.
“We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.” Bucky couldn’t give up. “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I?”
“What did you do?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky.
You were busy looking inside the car that was revealed by the lights coming on.
“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky shook his head before he continued with his ‘hypothetical’.
“The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”
“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment? Who knows?” Sam questioned.
“There could be many reasons…” Bucky shrugged. “But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two.
At this point, you stopped looking around and looked over at Bucky with your arms across your chest. You weren’t liking how thought out this plan was sounding.
“And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated someone could use the chaos to their advantage.” Bucky continued.
“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural. Are you… And where are we, man?” Sam gestured around the place with confusion locked on his face.
“Bucky, I’m with Sam on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling and–––” A door opening behind you cut you short.
You turned around to see Zemo walk through the plastic door curtains.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam jumped forward instructively. Bucky managed to stop him but he didn't stop you.
You rushed towards Zemo and held the tip of one of your knives to his Adams apple as he held his hands up.
“What are you doing here?” Sam shouted at Zemo before snapping back to Bucky.
“I didn’t tell ’cause I knew you wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky admitted.
“What did you do?” Sam pointed at Zemo in shock.
“We need him.” Bucky stated to which you chuckled harshly, pressing your knife a little harder.
“You’re going back to prison!” Sam called over.
“If I may..? “ Zemo tried to speak but you all shut him up with a unanimous ‘No.’
“Apologies.” Zemo mumbled.
“(Y/n), put the knife down.” Bucky came towards you and wrapped his hand round your wrist. “Please?”
You did. Slowly.
“Look, when Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky looked back and forth from you to Sam.
“I really think I’m invaluable.” Zemo spoke again.
“Shut up.” You rose the knife again to which Zemo took a step back and pretended to zip his mouth shut.
“Okay.” Sam sighed after a moment of contemplation. “If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”
“Fair.” Zemo nodded.
“Bucky... You understand what this means right? If they find out we took Zemo, specifically you. We’ll be on the run again and I don’t know if there will be a pardon this time either.” The concern in your eyes made Bucky frown.
“It’ll be alright. He's the only shot we got to stop these guys.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed his own words but he was praying that this was the best thing to do.
“Alright.” You turned to Zemo. “So where do we start?”
Zemo gestured for you to follow him before taking you into another dark room. You kept your knife in your hand just in case.
He reached for the light switch to reveal a mass of classic cars.
“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam cocked his eyebrow at the impressive collection.
“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers.” Zemo entered one of the cars and pulled out a bag. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”
“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.” Sam told the man.
“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Zemo took his bag and headed into another room.
“Jesus... How big is this place?” You looked around to see it was full of clothes.
“First I change and then we head to Selby.” Zemo placed the bag down before filing through one if the rails of clothes.
“How are we supposed to get anywhere with Zemo on our hands? We can’t exactly call Torres and ask for a ride but please ignore the fugitive that’s coming with us.” You looked between the boys.
“I will get us there.” Zemo told you.
“Great.” You pressed a fake smile onto your face which Zemo chose not to acknowledge.
Before you knew it you were at the airport at Zemo’s private jet.
“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of the plane.
“I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” Zemo spoke as if it was well known information. You felt a pang hit you in the chest, it happened every time you thought of Sokovia... it was guilt.
You watched Zemo greet an elderly man in a suit before you entered the jet.
You sat furtherest away from Zemo, still feeling very uncomfortable about him being free and under your custody.
You watched him sip on a glass of champagne like he had no worries in the world.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That’s right you do.” Zemo reminded you of the time Tony had locked a lot of the avengers up.
“Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam suggested.
“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”
Before you could blink, Bucky had lunged forward and taken Zemo by the neck.
“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky kept hold of Zemo for a second longer before sitting back down. You had fought the urge to get up and take hold of his arm to calm him down.
"I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo made no attempt at a sincere apology for the invasion of privacy.
“Don’t push it.” Bucky warned him.
“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” Sam smiled as he thought back on the memory.
“I like ’40s music, so…” Bucky shrugged.
“You didn’t like it?” Sam seemed more shock to hear this than when he saw Zemo.
“I liked it.” Bucky proclaimed.
“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Even Zemo had to get involved.
“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.” Sam turned back to Bucky after giving side eye to Zemo.
“I like Marvin Gaye.” Bucky repeated.
“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sam couldn’t drop it but you didn’t bother getting involved.
You looked at the book in Bucky’s hands. You knew Steve had given it to him before but seeing it again after all this time brought up a hundred thoughts. You remembered the many things you had told Steve to watch or eat or listen to like ABBA, Mochi ice cream and pranking him by suggesting the twilight movie as must see.
“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo mentioning Steve made you look up again. “But I realised something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”
“Watch your step, Zemo.” Sam warned him.
“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?” Zemo looked over at Bucky. “As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.”
“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam asked but you already knew of Madripoor. Anyone with links to the underworld of crime knew of Madripoor.
“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky informed him.
“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo looked down at his duffel bag of clothes that you had watched him pack before.
“What do you mean by that?” You finally chimed into the conversation.
“James will have to retake the person of the Winter Soldier. You both will have a role to play also.” Zemo explained, turning to face you as you sat in the chair by the back wall of the jet.
“Bucky, can I speak to you privately?” You looked past Zemo to Bucky. Bucky gave you a look to ask where would you go so you stood and opened the cabin toilets door.
Bucky huffed before following you in.
“Bucky I’m not okay with this.” You whispered as you pressed yourself up against the wall so you could try and fit both you and Bucky a little more comfortably.
“This isn’t up to you.” Bucky sighed.
“Everything about this situation is making every nerve in my body scream this is a bad idea.” You folded your arms across your chest as you stared up at Bucky.
“How many times do I have to tell you that this is the only plan we got?”
“I don’t trust him.” You kept your voice low as you threw your hand up in the direction of the door.
“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked.
“I’m starting to question it.” You muttered.
Bucky just stared at you in response.
“Yes, I trust you.” You grumbled, caving in.
“Anyway I have you if things go bad.” Bucky tried to make light of the situation but you weren't impressed.
You left the bathroom and remained silent until you drew closer to Madripoor.
Upon your arrival in Madripoor, you were handed some clothes to change into.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You held up the small material dress that you were meant to wear.
“I had to choose a disguise that would cover your face. Too many people here would know you from your days before the avengers and after.” Zemo defended his choice of ‘costume’ for you.
“So I’m assassin barbie?” You scoffed before taking to the bathroom to change.
You slid on the black leather playsuit and boots, along with the mask that Zemo gave you.
You felt exposed and uncomfortable. You managed to hide a few knives in your boots and you slid on a thigh holster to hold some more to make you feel like you were protected at least.
“Loose the knives.” Zemo instructed.
“Are you serious?” You were growing more agitated by the minute with this man.
“You are playing an escort. You can’t have knives on show.” Zemo pointed to your holster.
You bit down on your cheek as you removed it.
“Fine.” You then left the plane to Sam and Bucky waiting outside. Bucky’s eyes went wide at the sight of you but he tried to hide it by clearing his throat and looking away.
“We have to fix this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam was wearing a red patterned suit and chains. He didn’t look too bad in it either.
“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Zemo handed Sam his phone revealing a picture of Conrad Mack.
“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam took the phone and looked down at the picture.
“(Y/n) is playing your partner for the night. Conrad is known for his appreciation for the finer things in life and often has a woman on his arm Therefore, (Y/n), you must be attached to Sam’s hip the entire night.” Zemo filled you all in on the reason behind your disguise.
“Excuse me, what?” Bucky almost choked at the idea of you having to be Sam’s woman for the night.
“Well it is the only disguise that makes sense. She can’t be your girlfriend as you are the Winter Soldier. She can’t be mine as everyone knows I am loyal to my wife. She has to be the smiling tigers current whore.”
“Watch your mouth.” Bucky hissed.
“We all must play a part.” Zemo defended his choice of words. “You smell this?”
“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.
“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” Zemo gestured across the city as a car approached you all.
“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” You sighed as Zemo opened the car door for you.
“Not if we want the answers we are looking for.” Zemo climbed into the car after you and then the boys followed.
It didn't take too long to find the way to low town. You had been to Madripoor before but it had been years ago.
You did as you were ordered when you all exited Zemo’s car. You stuck by Sam, walking in the middle of Sam and Bucky.
The air wasn’t cold but it felt thick, you could feel it sticking to your bare skin which gave you the desperate urge to take a long shower.
“Here we are.” Zemo had brought you to a bar. It was busy and filled with a lot of men.
“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” You heard Zemo ask Bucky in Russian.
You heard whispers around you questioning if Bucky was who everyone thought he was. It made your gut clench with nerves but you didn’t let it show.
“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender greeted Sam and Zemo but barely brushed a glance over you.
“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo spoke for Sam. You then felt Sam wrap his arm around your waist. You leaned into him, batting your eyelashes first at Sam and then the bartender.
“The usual?” The bartender asked Sam. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke then it would give away the facade.
You were thankful you were wearing a face mask when you saw the drink made for the Smiling Tiger. You grimaced at the dead snake being cut open and then again when one of its organs was dropped into Sam’s shot.
“Ah, Smiling Tiger. Your favourite.” Zemo picked up his own drink as he looked down at Sam’s.
“I love these.” Sam forced himself to speak.
“Cheers, Conrad.” Zemo and Sam touched glasses before Sam hesitantly shot back the drink. You could tell Bucky enjoyed watching that.
“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.” A man suddenly approached from behind and tapped Zemo on the shoulder. You felt Sam’s grip on you tighten protectively.
“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” Zemo held his hand out to show his new bodyguard.
“New haircut?” The stranger looked Bucky up and down.
“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo gave him the other option. The man retreated.
“A power broker? Really?” Bucky spoke once the stranger had left.
“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”
“Do you know him?” Sam asked.
“Only by reputation.” Zemo admitted honestly.
“In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t visit low town without appearing on his radar.” You spoke up as you let yourself look around the room and take in just how many threats were around.
“And you know this why?” Sam looked down at you. He must've forgotten your past.
“I was a free agent before the Avengers. I've been here undercover a few times especially when I was a young teenager. Surprise Surprise evil guys like little girls.” You kept quiet in case anyone around was listening.
Zemo suddenly spoke a command for Bucky in Russian once again and that’s when another stranger put his hands on Zemo.
You watched Bucky follow orders and he didn’t hold back.
He grabbed hold of the strangers wrist and pulled him off Zemo before attacking him and several others around.
You took notice of those around with their phones out. Cameras...
You went to step forward when you felt Sam squeeze your side. He gave you a look that told you no.
“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo muttered to you and Sam. You wanted to punch him.
Bucky slammed another man onto the bar and that’s when you heard the wave of guns cocking.
Sam took hold of Bucky’s arm when Zemo told him to stay in character.
Instead Zemo told Bucky to stand down once you were informed you could see Selby.
Sam took hold of you hand and dragged you along side him as you all left the bar.
“She isn’t welcome.” One of the guards stopped you before you could enter the room.
“Excuse me?” Sam scoffed at the guard. “She’s with me and so she is welcome.”
“Let her in!” You heard an English accent call from ahead.
“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby was an older woman with a white pixie cut and a sly grin. Sam remained stood and so did Bucky but Sam had commanded you to take a seat next to Zemo.
“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo was impressing you by how cool he was playing this. It also worried you.
“A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?“ Selby asked.
“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”
“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby ignored Zemo as she eyed up Sam.” What’s the offer?”
“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”Zemo had risen from his seat and held Bucky by the chin.
“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, 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.” Selby fed you what she knew.
“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned.
“Oh. The bread crumbs 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 pushed herself from her seat and walked across the room.
That’s when Sam’s mobile went off.
“Answer it. On speaker.” Selby ordered. The gun behind Sam made him pull out his phone.
“Hello?” He answered.
“Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” A woman’s voice came through.
“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam tried his best to keep up his persona.
“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.” The woman’s attitude was not helping Sam’s case.
“What situation, Sarah? Say it.” Sam demanded.
“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.” Sarah snapped back.
“The bank. Yeah. Laundered so much...” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”
“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.” Sam tried to seem intimidating but at that moment you knew you were screwed. You reached down into your boot to take a knife just in case.
“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.” Sarah had used Sam’s name and that was the end of it.
“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Selby looked pissed. “Kill them!” She ordered but before her hired men could react, a bullet came through the window and shot Selby down.
You snatched two knives from your boot and sent them into the guard behind Sam.
Bucky immediately reacted with taking out the other guard.
“They’re gonna pin this on us.” You took the knives from the body as the boys took the guns.
“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Zemo’s order made the boys put their guns down but you just wiped your knives and placed them back in your boot.
You left the club in a hurry. Text chimes went off around you and you knew the power broker had seen what happened.
You were well and truly fucked.
“This is not good.” Zemo’s last words before the shooting started.
You took off alongside Bucky and Sam, cursing the fact that Zemo had put you in the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet.
“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam shouted which almost made you laugh.
“Down here!” You took a turn into an alley to get off the road as two mopeds appeared behind you.
Before you could spin around to fight, a shooter had taken them out.
“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo looked just. as confused you felt. You weren’t aware you knew anyone who was in Madripoor at the moment.
“Well, this is too perfect. Drop it, Zemo.” A familiar face soon revealed itself from the shadows.
“Sharon?” Sam furrowed his brow at the woman.
“You cost me everything.” Sharon ignore Sam as she spoke to Zemo.
“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam stepped ahead of Zemo to protest him.
“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”Sharon glowered at the four of you.
“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked the question on everyones mind.
“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save him from him. I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.” Sharon informed you.
“Don’t blow smoke. Both (Y/n) and I were on the run, too.” Sam didn't bother with feeling pity.
“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon shot back.
“Listen, Sharon, we need your help.” Bucky interrupted her before she could say anything else.
“Please.” You added. You and Sharon were friendly for a time before the world went to hell. You figured she’d help you at least.
“This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there for a while.” Sharon sighed, giving in and lowering her gun.
“Thank you.” You pressed a small smile onto your face but Sharon didn’t reciprocate.
She managed to get you to a car safely and you headed out of low town for the night.
(PART 3 HERE)
Bucky Barnes Tag List
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Season 2, episode 2: Global Thawing?
Spoiler alert!!! This is a rewatch recap of Snowpiercer s2e2: Smolder to Life. Naturally, it is full of spoilers for that episode. However, it also contains spoilers for some other episodes of season 1 and season 2. You have been warned!
Melaine does the monologue this episode, talking about her life on the farm and fires smoldering back to life over some nighttime shots of outside (including a lighthouse!). Then, we see that Melanie is finally sleeping! I’m so happy for her! She’s back in the Big Alice brig, and having some kind of sleep paralysis moment watching creepy baby Alex gut a rabbit.
But it’s not long before the real Alex walks in and wakes Melanie up. The highly multidisciplinary Headwoods have analysed the snow sample: it’s water, dirt, and probably-volcanic ammonium sulphate. We also see more graffiti in the background, which says “WTF?” and “COLD” and yep! Those phases provide a good summary of this episode/season/show!
Alex tells Melanie some of Wilford’s thoughts on different types of people in the world, and Melanie wants to know Alex’s opinion on it all. Alex thinks that Wilford says a lot when he’s high. It’s sad that she knows that at such a young age, but encouraging that she’s hesitant to believe everything that he says.
After the opening credits, Layton and Zarah are enjoying a nice, tense morning in their new First class apartment. They greet each other in the living room, implying they probably did sleep in separate rooms. Layton wants Zarah to stay out of Third, because of how hated they both are. Zarah sets up that she’ll work in the Second class clinic, instead of Third. Then, Layton and Zarah find the one thing they agree on: gendered baby names! If it’s a girl they’re gonna name it after Zarah’s mom. And if it’s a boy?
I doubt it matters: Wilford is gonna kidnap the kid and call it Rebecca, anyway.
Till comes to pick up her big brother, and makes a dig about how nice his new apartment is. They then proceed to walk through the train like cops. Till’s not doing well, but they don’t have time to talk about that! Half the population think Wilford will save them from Layton, and half think Wilford will kill them all. And there’s still a lot of tailie hate - someone was even assaulted by the tea room last night. Till doesn’t know who, and Layton asks her to find out. But she’s not a Brakeman any more - she just follows her big brother around!
Layton knows how to make his little sister feel better: they’ll interrupt their dad’s breakfast! Does Roche ever get to eat in peace? Layton and Roche each grab one of Till’s hands, placing one in the air and one on the Wilford Bible to swear her in as train detective. The ceremony lasts approximately two seconds, and neither Layton or Roche seem very enthused. Till herself is actively against the idea - she didn’t ask for it! She’s not ready! Neither her dad nor brother give a fuck about those very valid concerns.
Till then sounds very sad as she tells the others that she’s seen enough blood for a while. She would have seen less if she’d washed her face and changed her clothes at any point in episode nine or ten, but hey! Till eventually agrees to take the job, and heads off on her first case: she’s going to investigate the tailie assault, while Roche and Layton interrogate Kevin.
The interrogation begins immediately. They conduct it in the lockup room, rather than the torturey hospitality room. Kevin won’t tell Roche and Layton how many people he’s looking after, though. Nor any other details about Big Alice. Kevin doesn’t fear Wilford - he adores him.
Roche and Layton share another mildly concerned look. Is this what Ruth would be like if she’d spent any time with Wilford? Kevin isn’t going to say any more, so the interrogators bring out their secret weapon: chicken wings! Melanie probably should have at least given that a try in episode seven, before cracking out the finger freezing hose. Kevin briefly pretends to act cool, but veganuary was harder than he thought so he lunges for the plate and starts to stuff chicken into his mouth. When Kevin doesn’t answer Layton’s first question, the plate is taken away from him. He immediately starts talking. Icy Bob has been augmented for cold resistance by science, and there are 100 people on Big Alice. He’s rewarded with more chicken.
On Big Alice, Alex is serving up some Wilford-branded spam. (sidenote: it’s human meat, right?) Melanie politely declines. Wilford is in a better mood today, and swans into the room in his dressing gown calling “wooh-wooh!”. Because, of course he does! He then teases Melanie about her snow sample, and explains that he still has some moves left. He could slow right down and drain Snowpiercer’s power. The Big Alice crew are tough enough to survive power outages for a while, but Snowpiercer’s delicate society will tear each other apart when they get cold and hungry. It’s probably true. Wilford announces that he wants to meet Layton.
At the border, it’s Pike’s turn to live his heist movie fantasy. Lights did a better job: Pike only hears something when the door is practically already open. A small red bag is dropped through the door, and then it shuts again. ZWreck suggests the bag might be poison, and Pike knows exactly who could do with a bit of that!
Ruth! She gets better every episode and I'm here for it.
Ruth reads the letter to Layton, Roche and Bennett. Wilford wants to exchange prisoners and meet Layton. Bennett is all for it, but Roche thinks that Layton might get shot. Ruth doesn’t want to assume bad faith! They’re going to have to talk at some point, now that Melanie’s stuck them together. Bennett hates working with Wilford. Layton can’t figure out Mr. Wilford’s play. Ruth suggests that, actually, Mr. Willford just loves hospitality! Kevin is very valuable to him, and that’s why Mr. Wilford wants Kevin returned! Mhm. They’re going to agree to the exchange.
At the border, Wilford and Layton finally come face-to-face. Mr. Wilford is charming to Roche and Ruth, but Layton is all business. Melanie wants to see Alex before she goes, but it’s kinda late to be making demands now, Mel! Kevin makes it to Big Alice and runs to safety, but Before Melanie is through the door Alex bursts forward! Pike tells ZWreck - who has been pointing a crossbow into Big Alice the whole time - to take the shot at the sudden movement. What the fuck, Pike? Thankfully, ZWreck is feeling a bit calmer after a good night’s sleep and doesn’t immediately shoot at the child running towards her mother. Phew!
Alex has come to return Melanie’s snow sample. She wants to know what it really is. Melanie doesn’t know, and invites Alex to go to Snowpiercer with her, to study it together. But Alex tells Melanie that she’s seven years too late. In another moody teen moment, she smashes the sample and storms off again.
Layton and Melanie walk together, and get caught up on the two trains. Melanie thinks Wilford doesn’t know what to do next, but warns Layton that Wilford is coming for him. Layton asks about Alex, and Melanie laments that Alex is cruel and hates her. Layton tries to cheer Melanie up - Alex is just being a teenager! Melanie refuses to go to a doctor, and fails to mention that it’s because she already saw doctors on Big Alice. Layton and Melanie then catch the subtrain up to the engine, even though it’d only be a five minute run!
In the clinic, Till is trying to visit the assaulted tailie. But ZWreck and Strong Boy are working unofficial clinic security, and won’t let any Brakemen in. Till tells them that her dad and her big brother actually just made her train detective! Didn’t ZWreck and Strong Boy notice her nice new detective coat? Till tries to barge past them, and a scuffle ensues until Dr. Pelton opens the door to yell at the noisy neighbourhood kids to get off her lawn!
The doctor allows Till into the clinic and leads her past injured patients to the assaulted tailie. It’s Lights. That’s why Pike was listening at the door earlier! They greet eachother, and Lights calls Till, “Bess”, which feels a little gay to me?
Is that just wishful thinking?
Bess asks what happened, and Winnie tells her that Lights’ fingers have been cut off. Lights didn’t see who did it, and isn’t sure of any other details either. She just wants to go. Astrid’s theory is that it was a message to the tail: with an injured hand, Lights can’t work. Lights is too upset to talk much more, and heads back to the tail.
Up in the bunk room, no one is bothering to drive the train because they all want a peek at Melanie’s frostbitten shoulder. Bennett’s hand tattoo (a triangle on his ring finger) gets a bit of screentime as he removes Melanie’s dressing. Melanie tells the other engineers that the Headwoods survived, and they’re doing a load of sci-fi stuff. Also, it really was snowing outside! And there’s ammonium sulphate to prove it.
On Big Alice, Kevin enters Wilford’s lair to give his report. Wilford is wearing another dressing gown, and running another bath. Because, of course he is! Wilford invites Kevin into the bathroom, and asks how hot Kevin would like the water. Kevin is surprised to learn that the bath will be for him! How generous! He tries to decline, but Wilford insists - Kevin can have a nice bath and tell Wilford all about Snowpiercer.
Kevin begins to undress and give his report on Snowpiercer, while Wilford dramatically throws some bath salts into the water. After six episodes, I had been lulled into a false sense of security that the naked ass phase was well and truly over. But no! Kevin’s ass is on full display as he climbs into the bath. Wilford then asks Kevin what he revealed about Big Alice, and Kevin insists that he didn’t tell them anything. Alex appears in the doorway and asks whether Kevin ate on Snowpiercer. Uh oh.
Kevin explains that he had a few bites of the lunch that they provided - it seemed appropriate. Wilford dismisses Alex from bathtime. Alex seals herself in the engine and starts playing music through her headphones. Uh oh.
Wilford then disrobes. Season 2, episode 2, ass count 2! He joins Kevin in the bath. Kevin showed Snowpiercer’s people that Big Alice’s people are hungry - and Wilford isn’t just talking about the chicken. He also knows about the mango at the border. Uh oh. I don’t want to rewatch the rest of the scene, so here are the facts: Wilford makes Kevin cut his wrist in the bath, and Jupiter comes in to lap at the bloody water. Next!
On Snowpiercer, Zarah is asked to take some clinic supplies to the recovery room. Through a gap in the curtains, she sees an unconscious patient. She looks back to her supplies, then she realises that the patient looked familiar. She looks again. It’s Josie!
The traditional naked ass shot isn’t the only thing getting resurrected this episode: our beloved British badass is back!
The nurse tells Zarah (the viewers) that the unidentified patient has been in the clinic since before the fighting began, unconscious the whole time. Her frostbite is so severe that she may never wake up. The nurse asks if Zarah knows the patient, but Zarah lies. When the nurse leaves, Zarah closes the curtains, takes a bottle of pentobarbital sodium from a safe, and injects it into Josie’s IV bag! What the fuck, Zarah?
Zarah leaves the clinic, then does something that many characters in this show could benefit from: she pauses and has a little think about what the fuck she’s just done. Then, she rushes back into the room, changes Josie’s IV for a fresh one, and collapses to the floor in relief that she didn’t just spontaneously murder someone after avoiding all the fighting for twelve episodes.
Till and her new detective coat flounce through the train to Pastor Logan’s tea room. She’s looking for anyone who may have witnessed the assault. The detective and the pastor have a little chat, and we learn a tiny bit of Till's backstory: her dad was “Jesus-y”. Then, she changes the topic to the teacup shrine. Pastor Logan explains that everyone sees the cup from a different angle. The cup is a God metaphor, and apparently it also helps everyone to get along.
Till asks the Pastor how the train feels while she stares at a literal shrine to Wilford.
Yep.
Wilford was assumed dead, then he returned. Resurrection is a powerful narrative. I know this is supposed to be about Wilford and how he’s got a godlike status on Snowpiercer, but it’s a very interesting choice to have this scene directly after showing Josie in the clinic! She’s closer to being resurrected than Wilford is! And a far preferable leader. Are they both going to have Jesus-like status at some point in this show? It could explain why their names are so similar…
Anyway, Pastor Logan and Till talk some more but I hate this whole storyline. Next!
Terrence-Never-Terry and Pike are trading weed for Encyclopedias. Sure! Terrence-Never-Terry would like to do more trade, but Pike’s supply has been interrupted ever since that time he used a mango to break into Big Alice and kidnap their Head of Hospitality. JAnnietor interrupts them to announce visitors: Train Psycho and Brakeman Blowie! Osweiller wants to get back in with Terrence-Never-Terry’s black market. What can the two of them provide? Osweiller thinks he can fight, and LJ has connections on Big Alice.
But Terrence-Never-Terry doesn’t want the trouble that follows Osweiller and LJ. Osweiller says they’ll work for it, and LJ is shocked and appalled by the offer. Terrence-Never-Terry isn’t going to pass up an opportunity to make the train’s resident dick chopper clean out a backed up septic tank! It’s probably the closest they’ll ever get to justice! He hands her a mop, and she physically recoils from it. But Osweiller accepts the job.
In the Nightcar, Zarah is seeking advice on whether or not to murder Josie. Miss Audrey is lying on a sofa and smoking a pipe of Amazing Alice, wearing nothing but underwear, a robe and heels. Queen! She’s pretty mean compared to their chat in season one. Audrey tells Zarah that Layton has to prepare for Wilford, that Layton is Snowpiercer’s only chance at a new life, and that Zarah should, therefore, protect him at any cost. Then, Audrey softens up. She gently holds Zarah’s face and reminds her:
Do you hear that? It’s the sound of a thousand lesbians typing Audrey/Zarah fanfiction.
Outside the train, a little weather balloon is launched from the engine car. Javi tells Layton (the viewers) that CW-7 was fired into the atmosphere to reflect the sun and reverse global warming. If Melanie is right about the snow and the ammonium sulphate, then maybe the CW-7 is breaking down. If it’s breaking down, then all of their current climate models are wrong, and the Earth could be warming up much faster than previously expected. They need to check the temperature high up in the sky, and that’s apparently the engineers’ job? Did all the climate scientists die? Anyway, the little weather balloon starts reporting that it’s warmer up there. The Earth is coming back to life!
And it’s excellent timing: Snopwiercer really needs something to unite the people right now! Announcing a climate science mission would give them hope. Layton talks to Melanie about how he used to play a lot of chess with his mentor in the tail, Old Ivan. He knows how to play an opponent with a good ego: you give them the centre of the board. That’s what they’ll do with Wilford. If Wilford wants to fight Snowpiercer’s hope, then they’re going to make him do it openly.
Melanie thinks it’s risky to give Wilford a stage, but Layton points out that they’ll need to talk to Wilford eventually. That brings them to Ruth. Layton needs her on his side.
So, we’re treated to another incredible Ruth sequence! She carefully folds a communiqué, seals it with wax, rubs her perfume on it, then zips it into its bag. All the while, Layton waits impatiently behind her. Then, Ruth once again makes her way through the train, telling people to make way and stand aside because there’s a communiqué coming through.
Sykes delivers the message to Wilford, and we finally find out what it says! The people of Snowpiercer have an urgent scientific discovery to discuss, and Wilford is invited to a summit in First Class Dining. Sykes says it’s a non-starter - Layton is bluffing to draw Wilford out. Alex thinks there truly is a discovery, which means that Melanie must have been lying about the sample. Wilford isn’t worried about being exposed, because Layton would be exposed, too. Wilford is thrilled at the idea of having an audience, and also an opportunity to attack Layton! He’s accepting the invitation.
Back on Snowpiercer, Ruth is addressing Hospitality.
I don’t understand half of her speech, but I don’t care. She’s Ruthing hard and it’s a joy to behold.
Till and her detective coat run into the dining room to talk to Layton about Lights. She gets him up to speed with the facts, then hugs herself again and speculates that the attack was organised. Roche patronises Till - she’s only been on the job three hours and she’s already got a conspiracy! It gives us a clue about the timeline, though. This whole episode has taken place over three hours!? Okay! That also means that Till must have changed into her new detective outfit immediately after getting her promotion, which is hilarious. How long has she had that coat lying around for when she finally became a real detective? Adorable.
On Big Alice, Alex is using a hand mirror to check how well she can hide a razor blade in her cheek. Yikes! She’s dressed up in a shirt, tie and jacket. Wilford and Alex have a little competition to see how steady their hands are, and then he reassures her that Icy Bob and Sykes will have her back. Layton’s just a blip - people are grateful to Wilford, really. Alex asks Wilford, “But having me do it, that’s just about punishing Melanie, right?”
Wilford explains that Melanie stole the train from him, then Layton stole it from Melanie, and therefore it’s fitting for Alex, as Melanie’s daughter, to “Make things right.” i.e. Murder Layton. Wilford can’t wait for Alex to see Snowpiercer and to take the helm. He then tells her that it won’t be like Kevin, and that part of her will question it. But she has to bolt the questions out. He’s so evil. This whole scene is horrible!
Meanwhile, Zarah is visiting Josie in the clinic again. She says that Josie is strong, and that people look to her for the right thing to do. How cute! Are they gonna be friends? Oh, no, that was just preamble to Zarah menacingly leaning in to Josie and telling her not to take her path away from her. The woman is unconscious, Zarah! At least have the guts to threaten her when she can hear you! We’d all watch a Josie v Zarah fight, right?
At the border, Ruth greets Mr. Wilford and he charms her again. Alex, Icy Bob, both Doctors Headwood and Sykes accompany him. Roche apologises in advance, then leads Till and a couple of Brakemen to pat down the guests. I only include this in the recap because it was fun to watch Till try to look tough as struggled to reach to search Icy Bob, and Sykes gives one of the Brakeman an incredible death glare.
As the Big Alice guests walk through the train, they’re met with mixed responses. Wilford loves the attention, and allows LJ to come forward to speak with him. He asks after her parents, and she tells him that they died in the war. He offers his condolences, and LJ takes that as a cue to launch into a hug. Alex looks jealous, and Till yanks LJ off Wilford. Doesn’t LJ know that she can just hug herself? Till does it all the time and she’s fine!
Wilford arrives at the dining hall to applause, and requests a table for eight. Then, he approaches Layton and Melanie.
Melanie doesn’t want to go into the details of her newly discovered knife kink, so instead Layton welcomes the visitors. In the background, Alex assembles her weapon and Miss Audrey watches on from the back of the crowd before disappearing from the room. Layton passes the floor to Melanie, and she announces that the Earth is warming - not within a thousand year timeframe, but within their lifetimes.
There’s a lot to do: first, they need to get the Rocky Mountains Breslauer research station up and running again. Sykes interjects that they just came over that line (Melanie’s guess that Wilford used it as a shortcut was right!), and it’s not in good enough condition for Snowpiercer. Melanie ignores Sykes, and continues on to the second step: releasing balloons all over the world to gather data. Then, finally, Snowpiercer will return to collect the data.
Wilford makes the easiest play he can: Melanie lied for seven years, so why should people start believing her now? Layton tries to back Melanie up, and Wilford does a quick bit of character assassination on him, too. But then, the Headwoods come forward to tell Wilford that Melanie’s theory could be valid. Wilford considers it, and Layton makes another very lacklustre proposal:
How is this guy leading a bunch of people who were sucked in by Wilford’s theatrics and charm?
Wilford points out that the station will need to be manned, by someone who knows what they’re doing. Melanie is the obvious candidate. Alex is shocked. And so is Layton! I’m not sure why Melanie didn’t mention that part to him before - they’re supposed to be working together! They negotiate the terms of the mission. Wilford’s terms are that Melanie is the person to be ‘left behind’, and Melanie’s terms are that all hostilities cease. Mr. Wilford agrees far too readily, but at least it means Melanie can access the required equipment!
Wilford heads over to Alex and calls off the hit on Layton. Alex is so angry that her hands ball into fists, despite the blade hidden away. She cuts her palm, and has to hide it while everyone around her begins to cheer for the future. Wilford makes the three-fingered salute, and Till has a brainwave.
Layton and Melanie have a quick talk about the fact that she didn’t tell him she’d have to be the one to go to the research station. She asks him to keep the train in one piece, and to come back to get her.
Downtrain, Till and her detective coat rush into the Tail. Winnie is working security for Lights this time, so Till doesn’t have to fight too hard to speak to the victim. The detective needs to see Lights’ hand. Lights unbandages to reveal that her thumb and little finger were cut off, leaving the three fingers that make up the Wilford salute. There’s a whole different element to this assault.
As Wilford walks back through the train, he holds up the salute, and the passengers give it back to him. Blood is still dripping from Alex’s hand.
Up in the empty dining hall, Zarah walks up to Layton in slow motion, and tells him something that we can’t hear. He doesn’t reply - he just runs through the train, knocking passengers out of his way until he reaches the clinic, just in time for Josie to wake up.
In the final scene, Alex gets another opportunity to be a moody teenager! She tells her mother, “Don’t you dare say this is for me!” Melanie replies that it’s for all of them - it’s hope. Alex is as tired of hearing that word as I am, so she stomps off to Big Alice and smears blood on the border doorframe.
#snowpiercer s2e2#snowpiercer recap#incorrect snowpiercer recap#snowpiercer 2.02#snowpiercer#snowpiercer rewatch#snowpiercer season 2
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Take My Hand (Part Three)
Summary: feelings are hurt, mistakes are made, and someone wakes up in the wrong bed (one of three four ??? parts)
Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader
Word Count: 6,992
Song: It wasn't right / The way it all went down / Looks like you know that now (closure by taylor swift)
Warnings: T, spoilers for 19x13 (the undiscovered country) and use of some dialogue from that episode, infant death, some swearing, drinking, drunken behavior, so much angst,
A/N: thank you for @bucky-of-the-opera and @laneygthememequeen for letting me bounce ideas off and being such amazing beta readers. and thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo for the support and enthusiasm as i muddled my way through these scenes. And thank you to all of you for reading :)
“Another,” you slam your glass on the table, “please.”
“Are you sure you want another?” the bartender raised an eyebrow at you, the glasses lined around you.
“I asked for another,” you hiss, your voice raising and falling, the sound making the ache in your head sharp, a knife dragging across your forehead from temple to temple.
The drink lands in front of you, "I'm cutting you off," you click your teeth together, your fingers pressed the cool glass, the only thing grounding you, "hey, hey," she snaps her fingers, "did you drive here?"
You scoff, "Who drives in New York?" The remark doesn't come off as biting as you want, words slurring.
The bartender taps on your phone, lying on the counter amongst the glasses, "call someone to pick you up. We're closing. Don't go home by yourself."
You sip at your drink, your throat numb to any burn alcohol could provide you — the thrill gone, only left the bitter depressant you needed to relieve the pain. But there was no amount that could relieve this pain because one word brought it back — Rafael.
A wound that had scabbed over so times could still bleed, and this pain came with no adrenaline to numb it. But nothing could numb this pain — the one searing in your hollow chest, your heart long forlorn the moment you stepped from that office — no, it was earlier. Was it the moment you chose to love him? No, maybe it was the moment you kissed him, sunk into those eyes made for sinking, and you stood at the helm, unwavering. Because, after all, it was your heart to sink.
You loved him — you loved him even when he was completely unloveable in his behavior — your adoration for toleration. You loved him even when you didn't want to — when you knew he didn't deserve it, when you deserved more. You loved him, but you didn't know why.
And you wished you never did.
The bartender snaps her fingers again, "Hey, please call someone because I don't want you leaving here alone."
But you missed him, you scrolled through your contacts, finding his name so easily — his contact picture was of him in the office, sitting beside you on his couch with a mouthful of dumplings, irritated by something Buchanan had said. The next picture on your camera roll if you remembered was him lunging for your phone, and the third was of him kissing you, the taste of soy sauce on his lips.
Was the last time you kissed him the last time? Would it be the last time you touched him? The last time you slept beside him?
Your finger hovered over the call button — it would be easy to call him, to talk to him, to love him. But, your thumb slides right, going back to your contacts, just because it was easy didn't mean it was right.
Tears slid down your face, as you downed the rest of your drink.
But you needed to call someone — someone you trusted.
Sonny did not expect to spend his Thursday night (or was it Friday morning?) like this — not at Forlini’s, not out at 3 AM, and certainly not picking you up.
You weren't exactly clear about much on the phone — between the slurring and the mumbling he was only able to make out the address and "can you pick me up?"
He hurried down the street, sidestepping several burly men, who jeered at him as he passed by, his nerves shot at this point. He had seen at least eight of the men he's passed in lockup, and here you were in the thick of it.
What were you thinking?
He finds the place with ease, stepping into it, finding the bartender wiping up a table by the front. Irritated, she jerks her head towards the bar, "over there, the last drink hit hard, so you might have some trouble getting home, buddy."
His brow wrinkles, "What do you—"
"Sonny!" your voice is high, throwing up your hands in a to-do, as you stumble off the stool, while Sonny barely moves in time to catch you.
“Whoa, whoa, are you okay, counselor?” you pout, sighing loudly, as you gently take his hands off of you, instead intertwining your fingers with his.
“I told you to call me by my name, Sonny,” he clears his throat, feeling his ears burn as you tugged him closer, peering up at him with a wide grin, “or should I start calling you Detective Carisi?” your voice low and teasing, he leans away.
Okay, he bites his lip, stepping away from you.
What had he gotten himself into?
After several minutes of bargaining, bartering, and bribes, he was able to convince you to leave the bar, much to his (and the bartender’s) relief. But then again, the problems kept coming. He pulls you outside, and you’re shivering, your suit jacket clearly not enough. He pulls off his sweatshirt, handing it to you, you open your mouth to protest, but when another strong wind blows through, and you pull it over your shoulders.
He glances away, but his eyes wander back to you — his ears burning at the sight of you in his clothes.
No, no, this was not the time, he chided himself.
“Come on, let’s get you home, sweetheart,” and you pull away from him.
“I can’t go home,” he crosses his arms, struggling to keep his temper even at 2 in the morning, his patience worn away to nothingness in that bar.
“Sweetheart,” you shake your head — now you were just being stubborn, “the bar is closed, you have to go home.”
“No, I can’t go home,” and he sees the tears in your eyes, streaking down your face, and you’re shaking your head, arms crossed, “I can’t, Sonny. Please.”
And his irritation turns to fear — he’s seen this before, too many times, far too many times, a sinking feeling in his gut, “What happened?”
“Sonny—” your voice breaks, it was a blurred line between anger and fear — and he didn’t know what he felt right now — but he knew he was going to lose his mind if you didn’t tell him what was going on right now.
“Did someone do something to you?” you shake your head, “did they touch you—”
“No, Sonny, no,” you wipe your tears away, sniffing, “I just broke up with the guy I was seeing. The one I told you about. It wasn’t working,” you gave a watery chuckle, “it never worked to begin with.”
He says your name, his anger simmering, “I’m—”
You wave him off, before sighing, “I just can’t deal with him right now. And if I go home,” your voice shakes, “he might show up there and I can’t do that. I can’t.”
Sonny feels his heart thump against his chest, reaching for your hand, squeezing it, “Then we won’t.”
He takes you to his place, it doesn’t take long to get to — it takes longer to get you out of the cab, fully asleep on his shoulder by the time they arrive. His arm around you, supporting you, he takes you inside, “You take the bed, okay? I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you mumble, leaning against him as he unlocks the door, hating how he liked the way you felt against him, and he sighs. No, it feels like he does. You were his friend first — anything he felt was irrelevant. He shut the door behind him.
Until it wasn’t. But it wouldn’t be relevant — not tonight.
“Come on,” he helps you to his bedroom, having you sit at the edge of the bed, kneeling as he takes your shoes off for you. He looks up to find you staring at him, eyes glassy, “What’s wrong?”
“You really care about me, don’t you, Sonny?” and he tilts his head.
“Of course I do,” he frowns, “what do you—”
And you kiss him. It’s brief, but in his mind, it feels like forever — your lips were as soft as he thought they would be. He tastes the alcohol on your tongue, but that’s nothing compared to you.
He had never wanted to feel this way.
When did he first feel it?
When you had comforted him about Coles? No, maybe when you asked him to join you for a drink after shadowing? Or maybe it was the moment he saw you in your office, when you told him to call you by your name — when you called him by his.
He pulls away, and you sit, breath hot against his, whispering so quietly he barely hears it even in the silence, “I wish he cared about me the way you did.”
And he supposed it didn’t matter — helping you lay down — because it didn’t mean anything anyway.
Your first memory is regret, followed by pain — in that order — a sharp pain in your head stirs you into consciousness and into terror because, not only were you surely going to die, but in a stranger’s home. A knife would have been kinder than a hangover — when was the last time you had one? Have you ever had one before?
Your stomach lurched — you didn’t need to think about that right now.
You pushed yourself up, mind swimming and muscles screaming, your eyes surely bench pressing a thousand pounds to stay open, what the fuck happened—
The picture on the bedside table came into focus — was that—
It was Sonny with his niece, both their smiling faces staring back at you — almost mocking the situation you had gotten yourself into.
What had you done last night?
You groan softly, as the memories come back to you, as your hand clutches at your forehead, slowly sliding down, — the fight, the bar, the drinking, calling Sonny to get you and— your fingers brush your lips—
Fuck.
You kissed him — you had kissed Sonny. Flashes of it came back — you rocking forward to kiss him, his lips soft against yours, pulling away from you. Tears burned your eyes — congrats, you had somehow managed to blow up your life in so many ways in one night.
You were the worst — the worst.
Was this rock bottom? You didn’t know you could fall so far — to the point where you didn’t recognize yourself — drinking to forget, hurting the people who cared, and throwing it away for someone who didn’t even care.
No more, you wiped your tears away, reaching for your purse, pulling a pen and notepad from your bag, this needed to end.
You deserved more.
You always did.
You walk into your apartment, stepping inside to the sound of someone walking around, and you tense, your phone clenched in your hand, glancing around — and then you hear his voice.
Breathless, he steps out from the kitchen, and he whispers your name in the silence of the morning. His arms around you in a moment, your arms at your sides“I’ve been calling all morning — I came here and you weren’t here, I thought something had—” he breaks off, seemingly able to breath again, but you couldn’t — you never could with him.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper, breaking away from him, taking several steps back.
“What do you mean? I called you — i couldn’t find you—”
“You don’t need to find me — it’s over,” your voice broke, crossing your arms, “leave.”
And his eyes are drawn to your sweatshirt, hanging low on your body, and his eyes narrow, “Were you with someone else?” You blink, realizing you still had Sonny’s sweatshirt on from last night, “were you cheating on—”
“Cheating?” you bark out a laugh, raising your eyebrows, “cheating on who? On what? We’re nothing to each other, Rafael. It was true last night, and it’s true today.”
“This isn’t nothing — we aren’t nothing,” he shakes his head, “what do you want? Do you want a relationship? Tell me, I’ll do it.”
“I want you to leave,” you swallow thickly, “It’s over, Raf, we can’t do this anymore.”
“I’m telling you I’ll do anything—” he whispers your name in the silence of your heart breaking, he steps forward and you step away — the gap between you a chasm, a lake made of your own tears, “I love you.”
You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “No, no—”
“I do,” he pleads, “I do, mi amor.”
“You love me until you don’t,” you meet his gaze, emerald eyes shiny with tears, “I can’t do that anymore — I need more, I deserve more.”
He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, “This is it?”
“It is,” he steps forward, and you don’t step away this time, his warm cupping your cheek for the last time, your tears rolling over the knuckles of his fingers.
“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asks — and you squeeze your eyes shut, nodding. His breath is warm against your lips, his touch comforting and familiar. Your lips meet — he feels like home, his arms around your waist, splayed and lingering as if they never wanted to leave — and you didn’t want them to. Your lips part and meet over and over, until you think he’s stolen the very breath from your lungs. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, and you don’t know if you want to push him away or pull him closer.
You pull away — and it takes everything in you, a sob stuck in your throat — your foreheads brushing, and his hands reach for you as you pull away, but you brush past him, “Please go,” your back to him, you don’t watch him leave, instead hearing his footsteps against the floor, the door creaking open, and a pause.
“I’m sorry, mi amor.”
And the door clicks shut, and you sink to the floor, your back to the bottom of your couch, as you cry silently.
You were too.
Sonny wakes up to the sound of a door closing.
He curses under his breath, throwing off his blanket haphazardly. He nearly trips over himself trying to leave his apartment. But his stumbling was not fast enough to catch you — already long disappeared down the stairs of his apartment. He walks back to his room, finding his bed made with wrinkled sheets — the same ones you had kissed him on — a note in your place:
Sonny,
I’m so sorry. I was in a bad place, I wasn’t myself, but it’s no excuse for how I treated you — making you pick me up, take care of me, and kissing you — and everything in between. It was a mistake. I can’t change what I already did, but I’m sorry for everything — and I won’t burden you again like that — ever.
‘It was a mistake.’
Sonny stares at the note — finger brushing against the wet splotch on the paper. And he couldn’t help but think there was another door that closed last night — and he wondered if there would ever be another chance.
There was a sharp knock at Rafael’s door, and Jack McCoy stuck his head in, “Counselor, do you have a minute?” Rafael barely looks up from his work — his late start and no sleep did him no favors, he was already buried in work and you were in motions hearings all morning on top of it.
Not that he wanted to see you anyway — not after this morning.
All night he had waited for you — he called, he texted, he left voicemails — he did everything but send you a fax. You always teased him that his propensity for sending a fax made his age show — and he always replied to that with a kiss and a grin with a promise to show you that with age came experience.
And now he would never kiss you again.
He looked for you too — he spent hours pacing his apartment until he couldn’t take it anymore — and he started to look. He checked with your friends, he looked in at the office, and he finally checked on your place. You had given him a key before — for emergencies — but usually it was for late nights he would crawl in beside you, his arms curled around your middle. And you would lean into his touch, a sigh on your lips, even as you slept.
And now he would never sleep next to you again.
“Rafael?” McCoy asked, and Rafael snapped from his stupor, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night,” he leaned back away from his work, clearing his throat, “what was it that you needed from me, Jack?”
“I just wanted to inform you that your A.D.A. has resigned with a week’s notice,” and he blinked, his heart slowly caving in upon itself, “I allowed as such since I figured with the case flow, we should be fine for a week with a man down, but if you need any help, please let me know and I”ll have another A.D.A. assist you.”
He nods, dumbstruck, as Jack turns to go, “Wait, Jack,” he looks back, “was there a reason given?”
He offers a sad and knowing smile, “Needed a change, new opportunities — a need to grow,” he slips his hands into his pockets, “everyone does, son.”
“Of course, thank you.” and there he knew — he knew that you had outgrew him.
And it was his fault.
It doesn’t take long for the news to spread across SVU — and you’re careful to drop by on a day that Sonny won’t be there, shame still lingering in your chest about that night. You knew that you should face him — you knew you should talk to him, but you knew that it would only make things harder. And you didn’t want to do that to him.
But mostly you didn’t want to do it to yourself.
“We’re going to miss you around here, counselor,” Liv squeezes your shoulder, offering you a warm smile.
“Won’t be the same without you — who else is going to get that stick out of Barba’s ass?” Fin asks, and you chuckle, but his name carves another fresh wound into your skin, lingering just as his touch did, “but seriously, you ever need anything—”
“I’ll take you up on that, Fin,”
“Seriously, anything you need,” Amanda smiles, and you nod, biting your lip.
“Could you actually do something for me?” you hold up a bag, “can you give this to Sonny? He lent it to me the other night at the office.”
Amanda frowns, “Don’t you want to tell him goodbye yourself?”
“I will, but I just want to make sure he gets this back first, before I forget,” you lie — and you hope she can’t see through it, see through you, but it feels like everyone can — skin rubbed raw from the last week, red and exposed and fragile, “please?”
“Of course,” she takes it without another word, but you can still feel her watching you as you leave the precinct for the last time, hands in your pockets.
It’s a large change — new job, new place, and new borough. And it takes some time.
You find another job relatively easily — the alumni network at your alma mater and your experience as a prosecutor makes it simple for you to step into place at a boutique defense firm in the Bronx. It’s as natural as a transition as you can hope for.
Your colleagues are kind, guiding, helpful — and your work is different, but familiar — a different view of the same picture with a distinct goal of making the government uphold its burden and to hold the phrase, “innocent until proven guilty” with conviction — and hopefully without a conviction for your clients.
When the news broke, it didn’t take long for you to hear the whispers and it didn’t take long for the whispers to become an outcry.
“Did you hear about the Manhattan A.D.A. on trial?” a first year associate asked another, and you freeze, your head snapping over, blood running cold.
“What happened?”
~~~
“Jack McCoy,”
“Jack, what the hell is going on?” you hissed in your office, shutters shut and door closed, “I just heard that—”
“That Rafael Barba is on trial for murder? You heard right,” a hint of a sigh in the back of his throat, “I had no choice — my hands were tied.” You knew he didn’t — your anger receding, the office can’t be seen giving him any favor. He needed to be treated like anyone else — but he wasn’t just anyone else, was he?
Not to you.
Your mouth was dry, “What happened?”
Jack explained — everything — the parents, the baby, the hospital. Two parents caught between an impossible decision about their child now deemed to be braindead, and a mother who wanted nothing more than her child to be at rest. But she wasn’t the one who did it. Rafael did, against the father’s wishes. And now he was going to trial for murder.
Even as Jack explained, your words kept echoing in your ears — “you’re too busy saving the rest of the world.”
“Does he have representation yet?” your mind raced with images of him in jail, the ostracization, the media outrage, the shame — fuck.
What the hell were you thinking, Rafael?
“Not to my knowledge, but you can’t—”
“I know I can’t,” you scoff, “but I know someone who can and will,” you scrolled through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for, “Is he okay?” you asked softly.
“As well as he can be,” you could almost see Jack frowning, “I don’t wish to see anything happen to him, but no one is above the law, you know that.”
“I know, but I also know him—” and despite everything — the pain, the heartbreak, the anger — you knew he didn’t deserve this, “and I know I can’t let him go to jail.”
“I know,” he warns, sighing, “I want the same result as you, counselor, just tread lightly.”
“I will,” a shay sigh escapes your chest, and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to let your voice break, “will he be okay?”
He gives a bitter chuckle, “After this many years of doing this, you would think I could predict what a jury will do — but I don’t know. Juries surprise you and that cuts both ways. And I hope this time it cuts the way we want it to.”
“Thank you Jack, for everything,”
You can almost see him smile, “Of course, anytime.”
And now there was one more phone call you needed to make — the phone only rang twice before he picked up, “Regretting your wrong choice in workplace already? Only after, what, a few weeks? I think that’s a new record in job changes, counselor.”
You snort. Randy Dworkin never changed, did he? “I told you, Randy — your firm is too much of a boys’ club for my taste.”
“But I know you play rough, and this is more a roughhouse than a boys’ club — you’d dominate them all in a moment, and we’d be nothing but your humble servants.”
“And here I thought you saved the theatrics for the courtroom,” you hear him give a small gasp.
“You wound me, counselor. And another thing, if you’re not calling to tell me you’ve changed your mind, then you must be calling for a favor. And as one of your old mentors, let me remind you of an old adage — you catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” you shake your head.
“It’s not exactly a favor,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Let me start over — I need you to represent a former colleague of mine.”
“And this is not a favor, how?”
“Because this is a case you’re going to definitely want your name on.”
“If you don’t want to represent me, that’s fine,” Rafael was beginning to regret taking this meeting — even with half the defense attorneys in the city ducking his calls, maybe he would be better off defending himself pro se--
“I don't wanna represent you, I have to represent you. Cases like this wet my whistle, so to speak,” Dworkin explained, sighing, as Rafael raised an eyebrow, “So, what did the little bastard do to you?”
--And he was becoming more sure with every passing second.
“This was a mistake,” but Dworkin waves him back down.
“Okay, okay,” Dworkin backs off, looking all too pleased with himself, “I’ll skip the self-defense angle,” and Rafael found himself reluctantly sitting back down. Randy Dworkin may be smarmy, he may be endlessly irritating, but he was good at his job, better than good — as much as Rafael hated to admit it — and he needed help.
“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Dworkin,”
“Randy,” he corrects, “And my point is this whole thing is a sick joke. You killed something that nine out of ten doctors would say wasn't alive.”
“And what about the tenth doctor?” and that was the thought that haunted Rafael the most — he knew the smallest chance may be enough to convince a jury — it was enough to convince him he was guilty. No one was above the law, including him, guilty in his own eyes — in the eyes of the same god his mother had raised him to believe in.
And yet here he sat.
“Look, you wanna prove a point, and I wanna prove a point. It's what my nana would call the perfect shidduch,” Rafael raises an eyebrow, growing more weary of this conversation with every second.
“What point do you wanna prove?”
“That the government's power has grown too damn much. That the bigger the government gets, the smaller it leaves the individual. That once the government takes away our right to die, it takes away our right to live,” he looks self-satisfied, leaning back in his seat, “How am I doing so far?
Rafael’s jaw is set, “Well, for defending a murderer, not bad,” and Dworkin raises an eyebrow, shushing him dramatically.
“Let’s keep that self-sacrificial guilt locked up, okay? Save it for your religious leader of choice,” Dworkin leans in closer, “I know you put in calls for defense attorneys — I know you don’t want to go to jail, and I know other people don’t want to see you take the fall for this.”
“Other people?” he raises an eyebrow, and Dworkin seems to bite his tongue in the moment, a flicker of interest crossing his face, “did someone refer this case to you?”
“It’s not exactly a low profile nobody case, Barba — the story is splashed across half the tabloids and all over the news—”
“But you just—”
“Let’s focus on getting you off first,” Dworkin tilts his head, “or did you forget that you’re on trial for murder?”
Rafael wrinkles his brow, the question still nagging at the back of his head — a question mark at the end of a paragraph that lingered like an unspoken taboo he couldn’t place — but, Dworkin was right — right now, he couldn’t waste time.
Time that he really didn’t have.
“You didn’t tell me when I took this case that I was getting in between some doomed office relationship you conveniently failed to disclose before,” you didn’t realize this lunch Randy had invited you to involve an ambush — but you should have — it was Randy Dworkin.
“I didn’t see how that was pertinent,” you shrug, picking at your food, “and it wasn’t a relationship.”
“Puh-tat-o, puh-tat-toe — it’s still a cow if it moos, no?” he snorts, shaking his head, “it’s only pertinent when I almost let it slip that you were the one that referred the case to my attention.”
That gets your attention, head snapping up, “And you?”
“Masterfully avoided the question — I have excellent evasion skills — the fact that I never had a career in the C.I.A. should be criminal,” he looks up from his food, a shit eating grin on his lips, “It wasn’t hard — he has a lot more on his mind right now.”
“I can only imagine,” you murmur, your brow wrinkled as you stabbed a fry with your fork, appetite woefully gone.
“Your face will freeze like that,” and you scoff.
“And yet I’ll still look better than you,” he laughs at that.
“I always told you that you should have come and worked for me out of law school, instead of going to the D.A.’s office,” he wipes his lips with his napkin, “maybe you wouldn’t have fallen for this schmuck—”
You raise an eyebrow, “He’s not—”
“Still supportive? Even after the way he treated you—” and you gape at him, “you know that rumors get around — the community is small and people talk as much as they listen — it’s an incesteous cesspool of heathens,” and he gestures to you and him, “look no further.”
“Speak for yourself,” you grumble, cheeks burning, “I’m sorry what rumors?”
“You don’t need to know, kid,” he shakes his head, “my question is more focused on the present — why do you still care?”
“Because he doesn’t deserve to go down for this—”
“And he probably wouldn’t either way, but why do you care?”
“I don’t know, okay?” you snap, “I wish I did, but I don’t. But despite everything that happened — I don’t want to see him suffer. I don’t want him to go to jail,” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and Randy frowns at you, expression unreadable, “Call me an idiot, but I care — I can’t help it.”
“Most times that’s an asset, counselor,” he leans forward, elbow on the table, “as long as you don’t let anyone take advantage of it — not again.”
“I won’t,” you say softly, as the waiter comes over to hand over the check, helping to pack up the rest of your food to go, “I never thanked you for taking the case.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he smiles, handing over the server book, “you’re picking up the check.”
“On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, we find the defendant, Rafael Barba — not guilty.” the foreman announces, and relief floods Rafael, all the same time that guilt does — the two emotions irrevocably tied — lifting him up and dragging him down — a balloon and an anchor.
Dworkin claps him on the shoulder, “Congratulations, counselor, and you’re welcome. My bill is the mail.”
“Thank you, Randy,” he shakes his hand, “really, I—”
“Spare me the speech, okay? I appreciate it, but I was doing my job, just like you did yours,” he offers him a smile, “and besides there’s someone else you should really be thanking.”
He frowns, “Who?”
Your name leaves his lips, and Rafael blinks, “How the case got referred to me? That’s how,” he hadn’t heard your name in months, and yet the hurt of you leaving still felt fresh — a knife twisted in his gut, even as the flesh around it healed and scarred, the metal still stung the same as the day you left.
Or rather, the day he made you leave.
It was his fault — he knew that now. And maybe that was the point — to drive you away, to push you so far that there was no coming back. Self-destructive — self sacrificial just as Dworkin had called him — except he had sacrificed you instead of him. It should have been him — his fears, his worries, his walls — offered at the alter of your unconditional love.
But he didn’t. He didn’t and he regretted it — but was regret enough?
“Why are you telling me this?” and Dworkin shrugs, grabbing his briefcase with a sigh. When his gaze meets his again, it’s sharp as a jagged rock.
“I don’t know honestly,” he licks his lips, “I still think you’re a schmuck, but I know certain other people don’t think so,” he sticks a hand in his pocket, “and if you do get another chance, don’t screw it up. Otherwise, there won’t be a defense attorney in town who will help you next time you screw up.”
He leaves Rafael standing, dumbstruck.
And what was he to do now — with his future open and empty, what was left and who did he want to share it with?
And there was only one answer to that question.
There was knocking at your door — incessant and irritating that forced you out of bed at 11:00 PM — the one night of week you were able to get to bed early. And part of you only hoped it was a murderer to put you out of your misery — but you knew even the murderers weren’t so polite as to knock. But then again, you could be surprised.
But it wasn’t a murderer — at least in the eyes of a New York jury.
It was someone much worse.
And then it occurred to you — how did he know where you even lived— and then you groan, swearing silently under your breath.
Fuck you, Randy.
You lean back, head leaning back, staring at the ceiling, were you ready for this? Would you ever be ready for this?
You unlock the door, opening it, “What are you doing here?”
“Please, I know I don’t deserve it— I don’t deserve anything from you, but please let me talk,” his voice is soft, and fuck, it hits you in so many ways — his voice, his face, him — it’s overwhelming enough to hear him, but to see him here. It’s too much and not enough all the same — to see him and not touch him.
But he placed this ravine between you, carved it with the shards of your heart, filled it with your tears, and it was his job to scale.
And it wasn’t your job to make it easy.
“You don’t deserve it,” you wanted him to slip on the slippery crags of rock, you wanted him to cut his hands on the sharp edges of your bitterness, “so why should I listen?”
“Because I love you—” and you scoff, “I know I don’t have any right to say that, but please, let me just talk,” and you know he’s not going anywhere, and despite yourself — despite not wanting to give him the chance he had for months and for years — you wanted to know, you wanted him to explain. You grit your teeth, stepping aside, shutting the door behind him, arms crossed.
“You have two minutes,”
He clears his throat, “First, thank you for sending Dworkin my way, I don’t think I would have gotten off—”
“I didn’t let you in to be thanked,” you cut him off, “what do you have to say, Rafael?”
He wavers for a moment, “I love you, mi amor, and I know I don’t get to say that or call you that, but I do, I really do,” his voice breaks, “I know I don’t deserve you — I think I knew that from the start, and maybe that’s why I didn’t treat you right. It’s not an excuse—”
“And yet it sounds like one—”
“I was wrong — I took you for granted, and I will spend the rest of my life making that up to you if you give me the chance,” Rafael steps forward, dropping to one knee and your breath catches in your throat.
No. No. He wasn’t—
“I love you, mi amor — from our first kiss I was lost in you already — so much so that it scared me — afraid if I lost you, I would lose myself too. I know we both put away criminals for a living, but I was never scared of dying — I was scared of losing you.” he shakes his head, “But it doesn’t scare me anymore. It doesn’t scare me because losing you was the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I don’t want to ever lose you again.”
He pulls a ring from his pocket.
Time slows as you stare at it — wondering if you blink that it would disappear from between his fingers. It still somehow glinted in the low light of your dimmers — as shiny as his eyes were as he gazed up at you.
You had dreamed of this moment — far too many times — a time where Rafael would come around, finally see you for who you were, find the worth in you like the way you saw it in him. A sweeping moment where he would be down on one knee, asking for your hand, and it would be simple and perfect — but nothing is ever perfect. And nothing is ever simple.
You cover your mouth, “Wh—”
“Marry me,” he says, whispering your name with the reverence you had always wished he would, “I got the ring from my mom — she already gave us her blessing — she said I was an idiot for letting you in the first place.” he offers a weak smile.
“Raf—”
“Just let me finish, before you make a decision,” he licks his lips, eyes glassy, insistent in his words, as if he was hanging his life on each one, “Come away with me — we can start over, away from politics and baggage — find a place somewhere outside the city. You always said you wanted to open your own practice someday, have a family. We can do that, you and me together,” he builds this perfect life from scratch — and you see it — you saw it before: a house in the suburbs, a picket fence, and a family — you and Rafael, your hands intertwined, together, “We’ll make a home, I’ll find a job without crazy hours, we’ll go on dates, I’ll help you open your own practice. We’ll be together, like before—”
“But we aren’t together, Rafael— we haven’t been for months,”
“I know, I know—”
“No, you don’t,” you step back away from him, scrubbing your hand down your face, “this isn’t a movie, you can’t break my heart and come back months later telling me you made a mistake.”
“Mi amor—”
“No, no ‘mi amor’ — not when you played with my feelings for years, not when you said no at every turn, not when you dropped my heart like it was glass and crushed it beneath the heel of your shoes,” you spit back, “I called Dworkin because I didn’t want you to go to jail — nothing more, nothing less.”
You hear his heart breaking, “I love you—”
“I don’t,” you don’t let him see the tears falling from your eyes, “I can’t do this again. I can’t uproot my life for someone who could change their mind tomorrow. You had your chance. You lost it.”
“Don’t say that,”
“I did,” you wipe away your tears, you’ve cried enough for him, “it’s over. I don’t know what else will make it clearer to you.”
“Look at me, please, look—” and you whirl on him, and you see him on his knees still — “Tell me you don’t love me — say that you don’t. And I’ll leave.”
“I don’t love you anymore, Rafael,” and you wished that your words were truer than they were — that those words didn’t hurt as much to say as they were to hear. But they did and they were. You wanted to hate him, you hated to have no inch of remorse, but feelings were always two fold — and with anger came passion, with sadness came joy, and with hate came love. And the lines blurred until they were no more. And as much as you wanted to hate him — you knew you didn’t.
But you had to say that you did.
Because you couldn’t do this again for him to change his mind again — your heart couldn’t take that. You didn’t deserve to take that.
And there was nothing left to be said.
He slowly rises from his knees, tucking the ring into his pocket, along with the broken pieces of his heart.
You should let him leave without another word, you should let him leave without having to look at your face, you should let him leave — but a part of you doesn’t want to let go, a part of you doesn’t want to believe this will be the last time you see his face or hear his voice.
But still you ask, “Are you leaving New York?”
He nods, “I am — I can’t stay here.”
“Where are you going?” A part of you wonders if he’ll just ignore you, rush out of the door — let you wonder about his plans, wonder about him — but you know you’ll do that anyway.
You find him softly smiling, unable to quite meet your gaze, and he steps towards you, slowly, allowing you the time and space to step away — but you don’t, you can’t — not when this may be the last time you can touch him — but it was your choice to have this be the last time.
“I don’t know,” he replies, leaning forward slowly to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering only a moment, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but you don’t need to worry about that. Goodbye… mi amor.”
“Goodbye, Rafael,” you whisper, unable to watch him leave — not again.
#rafael barba#rafael barba x reader#rafael barba imagines#sonny carisi#sonny carisi x reader#sonny carisi imagines#svu#law and order: svu#svu imagines#svu fanfiction
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Luoyang episode 2 spoiler-y watch notes
This show is really, authentically GOOD btw. It's early to say for sure how this lines up with my fav dramas, because that really depends on how well the plot plays out, but v promising.
Excellent job setting the stage for the empress. The series establishes her as a powerful character thru the behavior of others - the tension and sweat from the summoned officials and guards. The paleateable fear in the room. I really love how there is no need to make her bluster or chew scenery.
And huh, looks like that tossing around of the empress' name by Inner Guard wasn't short-sighted after all. This Madam Wu does have the monarch's trust (for now). Makes Lord Gao look more foolhardy in retrospect. He should have had a better pulse on the political situation. So if it's not that he's a dumbass, then the man is crooked. 🤔 Remains to be seen.
Madam Wu actually has seemed so far to have the interests of the empress as her guiding priority, so this trust is likely not misplaced. Which also underlines the impression we have so far of the empress as strong and capable. (The 1 person she trusts to handle the situation is the right one).
The Baili arranged marriage plotline still feeling so reminiscent of how this usually goes for a female character. You see men in these dramas not want their arranged marriage, but the tone is usually different.
We may have finally found someone more unnecessarily extra than Mr Scraggly Man of Mystery: head of the intelligence agency, Lord Chu, who walks around wearing a metal mask with a disguised voice like some DC Comics supervillian
If Scraggles wasn't in lockup right now I would have bet this on being his 3rd secret identity, just because of the drama.
But no, he's busy getting tortured and playing cat & mouse games w the Lord Gao crew for reasons still unknown to the viewer. I admit I'm really intrigued by this dude.
Cut to Baili pacing around w his pretty face and asking all my questions. Thanks for being the voice of the viewer but when u gonna join the plot?
aaaaaand Scraggly Man of Mystery is revealed to have been setting up chess pieces like he's Wei Yingluo, retreating in order to advance. 'Thx for finally coming to murder me during the prisoner transport, so I can beat your ass.' What a legend.
"It's too late." So ominous!!!
Is our Man of Mystery actually stalking a villian w a special signature knife like he's Indigo Montoya? (You killed my father! Prepare to die!) Loving this journey for him.
He used to patrol the streets as like a city guard?? So he knows every nook and cranny! And he hides out under the shelter of a madam running a brothal/casino! I love me a gritty-dark hero with allies in communities outside of the elite.
And we're back to the arranged marriage plotline and Baili who still is isolated from the plot, but yet again I'm kinda interested in the vibe we got going on here, where dad has set up this marriage so Baili will have someone to protect him, take care of him if the dad dies. Liiiiike this is really so similiar to the cdrama female forced marriage tropes 👀👀. The book-smart, sheltered foodie son who doesn't want to be protected but is being forced into a marriage w a rich family. (even his servant is rather protective) He's so huffy lmaooooo
Ok so Scraggles Man of Mystery is from the slums and this infamous slum is also class-based, where the people there are basically exiled descendants of criminals. INTERESTING.
'This copper is from the Budda Temple by the Ministry of Works...'
Slums Batman: it's that Baili dude yet again
Me: into the plot! the plot! BRING MY BABY BOY INTO THE PLOTTTTTTT
cut 2 poor Baili continuing to NOT be in the plot, instead living that Heyer romance heroine life 🙍
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Bellamy Blake - “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Part 2
Bellamy Blake x reader
From my Wattpad: inanoncriminalwayy
GIF: heartbellamy
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Word Count: 1,875
Published on: Friday, November 20, 2020
TW: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: S3
A/N: Much requested by my sister, who claimed that the ending of the first part was a cliffhanger. Enjoy. Also, I understand that Miller wasn't with Pike, but I forgot he wasn't when I wrote this, so for the sake of the story just pretend he is apjppsoeods
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♡Masterlist♡
Part 1
Bellamy Blake
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Part 2
As if things couldn't get any worse, the moment you got to Harpers door, you remembered that she was out on a supply run with Octavia, leaving her door locked, and you stranded in the hallway with tears in your eyes.
"Damn." You cursed as you racked your brain for the key code.
"Need some help?" A familiar voice sounded behind you.
Monty stood in a guards uniform, the bulletproof material looking strange on him. Never in a million years would you have envisioned him in the guard. Let alone the bad part of the guard.
Anger swelled in you, and although you knew that Monty didn't directly take a role in Lincoln's murder, you still resented him for playing the part and sticking at his Moms side when he knew it was wrong.
"You here to kill me too?" You set down your bag, and stared him straight in the eyes.
Although he was at least a foot taller than you, he still backed up, and pity glistened in his eyes.
"(Y/N), I didn't mean to - ."
"You could have talked some sense into them, Monty!"
"I didn't have a choice!" Monty hissed.
You shook your head, picking up your bag with your few belongings.
"There's always a choice." You whispered as you made your way away from him before you did something you would regret.
Maybe with Kane or Abby as Chancellor, the rules would be different.
Scratch that.
They would definitely be different.
Curfew was 9 pm for every citizen of the Ark, excluding the guard, of course. If you were caught out after curfew, no matter the reason, you were shocklashed if you were over the age of 16.
This new rule, including the shorted curfew, and the extensive punishment were mandated by Pike.
Your eyes scoured the walls of the corridors for a clock, but they were empty. You could tell that curfew was approaching, because little to no people were in the halls, and those who were, were hurrying back to their assigned quarters.
Even if you turned back now, there was no guarantee that Harper was back yet, and there was no way in hell you were going back to your room with Bellamy.
In fact, maybe you would stay out in the halls on purpose. Maybe this would result in you getting shocklashed, and Bellamy would finally open his eyes.
Maybe Bellamy would even be the one to do it to you.
"Weren't you arrested in the first place for being out past curfew?"
Jasper startled you as he spoke, leaning against the frame of his door, bottle of moonshine in hand.
You eyed him.
"Weren't you arrested for stealing booze?" You sneered.
He only laughed, his words becoming more slurred as he downed another gulp of his drink.
"Weed, actually. And if it wasn't for... Monty. Neither of us would have been sent down here in the first place."
It was strange what all could change in the span of a few months.
Jasper and Monty used to be inseparable. They were practically brothers. No one could tear them apart.
But now, Jasper spoke Montys name with venom.
"Aren't you due back at the castle with the King?" Jasper waved his drink at the direction, referring to Bellamy.
"I-." Your words were cut short as Nathan Miller rounded the corner. His eyes widened as soon as he caught sight of the both of you.
"Are you trying to get yourselves killed?" He seethed, his eyes darting to the left and the right, breathing a silent sigh of relief as he came to the conclusion that he was the only guard in sight.
Jasper lowered his drink, scrunched up his nose, and appeared to be thinking hard.
"Is this a rhetorical question?" He mused.
Miller turned red in the face.
"I'm not joking around, Jasper. You're lucky it was me who found you, and not Hannah." Miller hissed, clearly not in a joking mood.
Jasper only rolled his eyes.
"Even if you do kill me, what would I end up losing?" Jasper took another drink.
"If you keep talking suicidal, you're gonna end up losing your booze." Miller said.
Jasper seemed to sober up at those words.
"Well, goodnight then." Jasper turned, but Miller stopped him.
"I can't let (Y/N) roam free, Jasper. She's gonna have to stay here tonight." Miller explained.
Jasper shrugged.
"Fine. But I'm not sharing any of my moonshine." He slurred as he walked into his flat.
Millers wrist watched beeped, indicating that it was 9 pm, curfew.
"Hey, I can stop by your dorm and let Bellamy know that-."
"You can leave, is what you can do." You sneered.
Miller blinked, startled by your use of words.
Before he could say anything to this, Hannah Green rounded the corner, and raised her eyebrows at the sight of you, God forbid, two inches outside of a dorm 1 minute past curfew.
Once she saw that you were talking to Miller, she sighed.
"I can let this slide, but just this once." She gave you a curt nod.
"Oh, will you?" You gave a mock squeal of gratitude, your smile sarcastic.
Hannah frowned.
"I don't like your tone, young lady." She said, her jaw taut.
"And I don't like your face, you power hungry bitch." You jeered.
Hannah gave a gasp of shock, and pulled out a notepad and pen from her pockets.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to write you up." She said.
You only laughed.
"For what? I didn't threaten you. I'm not even within slapping distance of you."
Her face grew a deep shade of scarlet.
"Is that a threat?" She spoke firmly.
"Do you want it to be?" You move forward, but Millers hands stopped you as he placed them firmly on your shoulders.
"(Y/N), enough," He pleaded, really not in the mood to arrest his friend tonight.
Hannah took a look at the door number of Jaspers dorm, and cleared her throat. Everyone knew Jaspers number. Everyone on the Ark had guided him home at least once when he was too drunk to walk properly.
"I'm going to let this go. I will assume that you are helping Jasper. But if you speak to me like that ever again, you can expect a night in lockup." Hannah held her nose high in the air as she strutted away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Miller lit into you.
"Are you stupid, (Y/N)?" He hissed.
"Are YOU stupid, Miller? You know what you're doing is wrong." You jeered.
Miller was not in the mood for anymore arguing tonight, so he just let out a defeated sigh, and massaged his temples.
"Have a goodnight, (Y/N)." He spoke softly as he walked away.
-
Bellamy was a mess. He reread the letter that was left for him over and over again until his eyes ached, and his heart couldn't take it anymore.
It had been hours, and he felt like a complete ass for letting you be gone this long.
Even if he went out into the halls without his guard uniform, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't get in any trouble, being a member of the guard and all.
He opened the door, but before he left, he took the letter that you left him, and folded it neatly into a square so he could carry it with him in his pocket.
It felt strange not walking with you. Almost as if the silence was too loud.
He nearly ran into Monty as he booked it through the halls and around the corner.
"Bellamy, what's wrong? Why was (Y/N) at Harpers door crying?" Monty wondered.
"She's at Harpers?" Bellamys felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders. You were safe.
Monty shook his head.
"No, no. Harper wasn't home. I-I don't know where she is." Monty stuttered.
Bellamy took no more time in conversing, and continued to jog.
"Bellamy? What are you doing out? It's past midnight." Hannah stopped him, a smile on her face.
"My- my..."
What was he even supposed to call you now?
"(Y/N), (Y/L/N), have you seen her?" His voiced cracked pitifully at the end of his sentence.
Hannah's eyes softened.
"I was down at Jasper Jordan's place when curfew started. She was there." Hannah explained, pointing in the direction of which you were.
"Thank you." He nodded gratefully.
It would make sense that you were with Jasper.
Next to Harper, Jasper was your best friend. And you both had something to bond over.
The fact that someone you loved and cared for was killed by someone you loved and trusted...
How much deeper could a bond get?
When he got to Jaspers, the door was cracked open.
Bellamy frowned, and gave a knock.
"(Y/N)?" He loudly announced his arrival.
A groan could be be heard from inside.
A half asleep, not even ten percent conscious Jasper stumbled to the door.
"What do you want?" He growled.
"Jasper, I need to see (Y/N)." Bellamy pleaded.
Jasper moved out of the way, too exhausted for anymore conversing. He gestured widly to the couch in which you had been sleeping on no more than two hours ago.
But you weren't there.
In your place, was yet another note, announcing your departure to the woods where you planned to run away and live a life with Trikru, where you could be free.
All of the blood drained from Bellamys face, and he patted his pockets, cursing when he remembered he wasn't wearing his uniform and didn't have his walkie talkies.
He shoved this note hastily in his pocket, and sprinted out of the room, out into the entrance of Arkadia, where the night air was cool, and the lights bright.
He panicked, swiveling around frantically trying to imagine which direction you would go.
He caught sight of you a few hundred yards outside of the fence.
"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" He screamed.
You turned around, his name almost passing your lips.
The sound of a gunshot answered him.
The crickets ceased their chirps, and time itself seemed to stand still as Bellamy watched your body crumble to the ground.
The watchman who had shot you realized his mistake as soon as he heard Bellamy scream.
That wasn't a Grounder.
Guards moved out past the gate, to examine the corpse.
They say you move faster when your adrenaline is pumping.
But Bellamy couldn't move fast enough.
"Don't touch her! Don't touch her!" Bellamy cried as a guard bent over to pick you up.
Your face was forever frozen. Your eyes wide with regret and heartache. Your lips beginning to form Bellamys name.
Bellamy let out a wail. It was a familiar wail.
It was the sound Raven made when she watched Finn die.
It was the sound Octavia made when she watched Lincoln die.
But this wail was different in a few ways.
It was full of more regret.
More sorrow.
As Bellamy held your bleeding body in his arms, the paper of the notes you had left crinkled in his pockets.
Both of them goodbye notes.
And Bellamy whispered the words he never got to say.
"It's you. I choose you."
♡Masterlist♡
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Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 10 Review: Handle with Care
https://ift.tt/eA8V8J
This Fear the Walking Dead review contains spoilers.
Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 10
If there’s been one, consistent failing of Fear the Walking Dead’s sixth season, it’s that the show’s original cast of characters have been sidelined in favor of newer arrivals like Morgan, John, Al, June, et al. While these new characters have featured in some of the show’s best episodes to date, that doesn’t mean Fear stalwarts like Alicia, Strand, and Daniel have no good stories left to tell. Indeed, what works so well about this week’s “Handle with Care” is that it puts everyone’s favorite barber front and center as he tries to uncover a possible traitor within the community’s walls. Amidst the growing distrust and paranoia, “Handle with Care” reminds us that old wounds often run very, very deep. And as we know, Daniel carries scars both seen and unseen. Throw him together with his frenemy Victor Strand, and Fear ably delivers a story with enough dread to spare.
Maybe it’s just me, but after watching six seasons of Fear, seeing this episode’s opening shots of Morgan’s agrarian utopia immediately sent up all kinds of red flags. Because as any fan of The Walking Dead universe knows, peace always comes at a price. Morgan (Lennie James) knows this, too, which is why he’s brought together Lawton and the Outcasts for a peaceful summit to find a way to take on the Enders together. Both groups need to follow Morgan’s house rules though—namely locking up their weapons before entering the settlement. By Morgan’s logic, without ready access to firearms, there’s less temptation to use them.
Leading an existence devoid of bloodshed is an admirable goal. With so much lingering resentment among the groups, though, Morgan has his work cut out for him. We know he’s up for the task, of course, which is why it’s crucial for Fear to remove him quickly from the equation. That he needs to retrieve a fetal monitor for Grace (Karen David) is immaterial (though it’s a little odd that such things are readily accessible in a zombie apocalypse). Because once Morgan leaves Daniel in charge, everything absolutely goes to hell.
But wait, you might ask. Doesn’t this episode open with Daniel in jail? It does! This circular narrative is an interesting choice, given that Daniel himself turns out to be such an unreliable narrator. Over the course of the hour, Rubén Blades takes us on Daniel’s unlikely (but very believable) journey from righteous accuser to the accused. And what a journey it is, thanks to Blades’ emotional performance. Colman Domingo easily stands toe to toe with him, making Strand’s anger and frustration just as believable.
While both characters have come a long way together (and yes, apart), their shared history is one filled with repeated lies and betrayal. After all, Strand did try to kill Daniel back in season 3’s finale. And Daniel has carried the burden of that painful memory—and even more painful recovery—for years. The way Daniel calmly enumerates the ways his jaw never fully healed is chilling. We expect him to pull the trigger, to finally succumb to the vengeance clouding his heart; indeed, he very nearly does.
Things take an unexpected turn when Daniel comes under intense scrutiny for insisting he told Grace and Charlie to hide in a remote fishing shack. Their testimony and Daniel’s own markings on the map suggest otherwise, though. To compound everyone’s confusion, it turns out that it was actually Daniel himself who stole the weapons from lockup and hid them in his own locked storage shed. Considering his feigned memory loss earlier in the season, it’s difficult to know when Daniel is telling the truth and when he’s acting. Morgan is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he wants to be sure.
Which brings us to June (Jenna Elfman), who hasn’t been back inside the settlement since killing Virginia. “Handle with Care” finds June stepping into the role of Daniel’s therapist. She’s not just healing bodies, she’s healing minds. But Daniel believes he deserves to be behind bars; after all, he was a monster in his former life. It’s a small comfort that June believes his confusion and remorse are legitimate. Still, even if Daniel moved the weapons, is he also responsible for the explosion? After all, he did let those walkers into the settlement. What else is he capable of doing?
cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });
Daniel realizes he has become a danger, not just to his friends, but also to the future success of the settlement itself. Blades delivers a brilliant performance in this scene as well. Once a ruthless survivor, Daniel is now broken and vulnerable. Maybe this is why Strand invites Daniel to stay at Lawton. Or, maybe Strand believes the old maxim about keeping friends close and enemies closer.
Whatever the case may be, I’m glad Fear is giving these original characters their due. As much as I love the newer arrivals, like Morgan, it’s good to acknowledge the characters (and their many defining imperfections) that got us here in the first place.
The post Fear the Walking Dead Season 6 Episode 10 Review: Handle with Care appeared first on Den of Geek.
from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3dPULQE
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Life After Lockup: The Recap No One Asked For
I couldn’t believe it when i found out that Megan was 30. I’m no brain surgeon but she seems so damn naive and gullible. this man has done nothing but lie since day one and she stays lapping it all up. And Michael keeps holding it over her head that she kissed some other dude when he was hiding a whole ass pregnant wife. wtf.
Cheryl: another dumbass that can’t wait to get taken for a ride. of course Josh wanted her back. in her he knows he’s got someone that will pay his bills and keep coming back even if he treats them like shit.
Tracy and Clint: this what i been waiting for. this is actually sad to see someone so clearly in the grip of an addiction. also i feel like stuff was left out of that story. why would you pull over to sleep in a parking lot instead of getting a hotel room. especially when you were both holding and she had priors. why even take that chance? also, “weed pipe” my ass.
I know most of this stuff is manipulated and phony to a certain degree but this whole lacey, shane, john situation is starting to seem extra fake. i’m just not buying it. something’s off with them.
It’s a damn shame that Andrea’s children have more common sense than she does. And she’s not even willing to listen to the point Lamar was trying to make. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of diversity in her community and while she may be used to it (and actually seems to prefer it that way), she could at least try to understand how that would feel to someone that isn’t used to it.
Cheryl’s friend is a literal clown and he got more sense than her. Honey, I can’t🤣 you trying to tell me that this woman is leaving her children behind to move across the country to get an apartment with a man that has already broken up with her three times??? Whew.
I can’t believe that Michael got the nerve to be this pissed off about anything that Megan did considering the fact that he lied about being married, still being involved and sleeping with said wife and getting her pregnant. Not to mention all these random broads he talking to on the phone and getting money from. The audacity. Got the nerve to call somebody else sneaky. ol’ five head ass.
Until next week 💖
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Watch "LIFE AFTER LOCKUP | What Had Happened Was...." on YouTube
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#reality tv#youtube#entertainment news#realitytv#news in trend#drama#tea#love after lockup#life after lockup#wetv#we tv#mama june#reality television#spoiler tv#tv show#darcey silva#tv ideas#tv pilot#tv pitch#tv production#season finale#episode commentary#commentary channels#youtube channel#youtubers#entertainment#e! entertainment#reality show#production#trending
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'Life After Lockup' Spoilers: Shawn Osborne and Destinie Folsom Dramahttp://www.emiwaynews.com/life-after-lockup-spoilers-shawn-osborne-and-destinie-folsom-drama/?feed_id=12902&_unique_id=603c630449e1d
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Ms. Marvel #20 Review
spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers
It’s the second installment of the timely and topical ‘mecca’ story-arc, from the creative team of G. Willow Wilson, Marco Falla and Ian Herring. Full recap and review following the jump.
Last issue saw the mayorship and governance of Jersey City taken over by sinister forces, including Dr. Faustus’ former underling, Chuck Worthy, and his chief lieutenants, Lockup and Discord. As Ms. Marvel, Kamala charged in headlong and unfortunately fell to the electrical powers of the mysterious villain, Discord (there’s something eerily familiar about this guy).
Meanwhile, the Worthy’s administration has instituted a zero tolerance policy against anyone with super human powers or abnormalities (a thinly veiled metaphorical stand-in for ultra-jingoistic white nationalism). Kamala’s brother has been apprehended by Worthy’s goons, charged with having possessed super powers and not divulging his status to the authorities. Aamir had only possessed such powers for a brief time following his exposure to a mysterious quasi-terrigenic gas by Ms. Marvel’s foe, Kamran. These powers quickly wore off, but the mere fact that Aamir once possess powers is enough for the Worthy administration to identify him as a threat to public safety who should have his U.S. citizenship revoked and subsequently deported back to his birth country of Pakistan.
The issue begins with a harrowing scene where the detained Aamir is interrogated. Aamir doesn’t quite understand the situation and he assumes that he has been arrested by the NSA or FBI. He imagines that he has been detained under the assumption that he is an enemy combatant, an Islamic extremist plotting acts of terror against the United States.
In expounding on his innocence, Aamir delivers an extremely interesting speech about the types of people do and do not fall in with such extremism. What he says is poignant, not devoid of compassion and, above all else is strikes me as absolutely correct.
And yet Aamir has not been arrested for suspected terrorist ties, his charge is that he possessed super powers and failed to register this with the city municipal government. Befuddled, Aamir states that he only possessed these powers for a brief moment before they wore off; a statement that his interrogator interprets as an admission of guilt. In a knife-twisting extra punchline the interrogator also notes that Aamir was seen walking down the street carrying a pressure cooker (it was actually a slow cooker containing left overs that Aamire was bringing to his neighbors).
All the while, Aamir’s interrogation is being watched in an adjacent room by Lockdown and Dischord. The interrogator excuses himself to speak with these two, He states that Aamir is a small fish, no real threat and suggests they cut him loose. Discord disagrees, he wants Aamir further detained. Discord is ardent and zealous in his crusade to rid Jersey City of all of the freaks and super powered beings that has robbed the city of its normalcy. The juxtaposition between Discord’s extremist zeal and what Aamir had said about what can lead one to becoming terrorists is rather overt, but a satisfying parallel.
Elsewhere, Ms. Marvel is waking up from being knocked unconscious in her battle with Discord. Although bested, Discord chose not to detain her and left her where she was. In the twilight of her regaining consciousness, Kamala hallucinates that her old friend Bruno is at her side. The visage of Bruno voices a bit of exposition, noting that Kamala has a tough fight on her hands and is going to have to come to terms with the fact that not everyone is going to like her. The world is not black and white, all good or all bad. What is right and what is wrong is colored by opinion and she has to wake up to the fact that she will never be universally accepted for who she is.
Ms. Marvel shakes off the cobwebs and darts back to the heart of the city where she quickly comes across a political rally held by the new Mayor Chuck Worthy. Worthy is whipping up the crowd with his promises of bringing back peace and economic prosperity by ridding the city of all of the costumed freaks and super powered beings.
It’s all a rather straightforward straw man argument wherein a minority population is identified and vilified, held responsible for all the woes that trouble a politician’s constituents. It’s also a rather obvious analog to the type of fear mongering that the Trump administration utilized to win the American presidency. Any doubt of this is wiped away when Worthy notes that the rumors of his affiliation with Hydra is merely alternative facts propagated by the fake news media.
Worthy has spotted Ms. Marvel among the crowd. His goons, Lockdown and Discord attack. A tremendous battle ensues and Ms. Marvel is forced to flee when Discord unleashes a mobil missile platform that fires off a bevy of explosive projectiles.
The narrative switches to the now abandoned offices of the former mayor, Stella Machesi. The liberal minded wheelchair bound Machesi was elected mayor several issues back in a one-shot tale where Ms. Marvel and her allies were able to battle through the barriers of district gerrymandering and get out enough of the vote to defeat Chuck Worthy’s dastardly plans to win the election. It was an idealistic story that as quite clearly written and illustrated before the November election that saw Trump earn the presidency by way of the electoral college despite losing the popular vote by a sizable margin. And it would seem that Worthy has stolen the Mayorship by way of similar Byzantine back door politics.
Ms. Marvel, roughed up by her fight with Discord arrives at Machesi’s offices asking for her help. Machesi has little to offer in the way of aide. She notes that Worthy has seize power by tapping into the populace’s more baser instincts: their fear and greed. Before the two can formulate a plan, they are interrupted by Discord who calls out for Ms. Marvel from the street below.
Discord demands Ms. Marvel’s surrender and has paraded out a group of his detainees so to motivate her giving herself up peacefully. The individuals Discord had detained appear to be innocents, people who have been arrested simply because they are different, because they are Inhumans or Mutants and their physical appearance is deemed by the status quo as being abnormal. They haven’t done anything wrong, but Discord and Lockdown have been given the authority to apprehend them nonetheless and Discord notes how easy it could be to misplace paperwork and keep them imprisoned without charge trial all but indefinitely.
Once more, Kamala cannot help to feel that there is something distinctively familiar about Discord. He knows how to press her buttons almost too well. It’s almost like he is a former friend who had gotten to know Kamala and now uses that intimate knowledge as a weapon.
As a final threat, Discord brings out Aamir who has also been detained without charge. Discord aims his power gauntlet at Aamir, threatening to kill him. Amir has been identified as an abnormal, something less than human and Discord could kill him with impunity… unless Ms. Marvel agrees to surrender.
And it is with this frightening cliffhanger that the issue ends with the promise of continuation.
Wow. This issue pulls absolutely zero punches.
After the preview pages for this issue was released last week, I received a question from a fellow fan bemoaning the fact that Wilson and company was producing such a politically charged story in the pages of Ms. Marvel. While I can understand the wish that comic books might remain pure escapism devoid of politics and social issues, I don’t blame Wilson for making the decision to go in the other direction. Indeed it could be construed as irresponsible were she not to address these issues.
Ms. Marvel is the first Muslim-American character to headline a mainstream superhero comic. Her religion and ethnicity is not her only character trait, but it is a facet of who she is; and to that extent it would be something of a dereliction of duty to sidestep the harsh realities that Muslim Americans have to contend with in real life. People who are Muslim, people who may look as though their family lineage might herald from the Middle East, India or Pakistan are forced to live under the looming threat of being misidentified as enemy combatants, potential terrorists… some sort of threat to Western society. They live with the fear that they could be disappeared by the government, detained and held indefinitely without trial or legal representation. This is not just a plot point for the issue, this actually happens in real life.
There’s an interesting parallel process to Ms. Marvel’s sense of popularity both in the fictional world of the Marvel Universe and actual reality. Ms. Marvel arrived with a splash and was an immediate darling of liberal minded comic fans. It was cool that there should finally be a big name Muslim super hero, but it was the great quality of the writing and art that really made the comic a hit. Kamala is such a well-rounded and fully developed character; she’s fun and relatable, lovable. And yet times have changed and the shift in the political atmosphere has emboldened those with bigoted, intolerant views to be much more open and vocal in their feelings. Quite suddenly there were comic book fans who were vocal and upfront over their dislike of the surge in liberal, multicultural characters in superhero comics. Suddenly there were people out there expounding their hatred of Ms. Marvel, a hatred based on her being a girl, of her being Muslim, of her being the darling of the so-called liberal elite.
All this was likely quite jarring for Ms. Wilson and the other creators working on Ms. Marvel. And to the same extent that Marvel itself has had to contend with the fact that not everyone likes Ms. Marvel, Kamala herself has had to cope with this matter.
Ultra-conservatives and Trump supporters are likely to be a touch alienated by this issue, by seeing the sinister Chuck Worthy as such a poorly disguised representation of the so-called Alt-Right. Yet, the chances that people with such views are actually reading Ms. Marvel is likely pretty slim. So screw’em…
The politically charged nature of the story might not be for everyone. Some may prefer super hero tales that are a bit lighter, that avoid the unsettling truths of the real world. As for me, I like it and I completely understand Ms. Wilson’s desire to take on these matters. It helps that Kamala and I share political convictions. I definitely recommend this issue, but am aware that there may be some who find the heavy socio-political nature of the story to be disquieting. Three out of Five Lockjaws.
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