#notgonnarememberthis fics

[notgonnarememberthis]

Can u write the little tidbit about Jessica breaking a paparazzis camera cause they took photos of Malcolm and Gil into a fic??? It would be angsty and amazing.

I just wanted to respond to this so that you know I did, in fact see it!! I absolutely love the idea and will include it in a later story but unfortunately I'm going on vacation next week so I'm gonna be out of town for a bit and this week is super busy with preparations. I do love the idea tho and look forward to writing it when I get back.

Maybe I'll start up a lil ficlet series where I take prompts and write them?? We'll see! Thank you so much for the idea!

#prodigal son #me #notgonnarememberthis fics

[boysenberry-starbucks-gremlin]

Post 7 sentences of you WIP and Tag 7 people.

Tagged by @hexedmaiden who I absolutely adore omg! (I know some others have tagged me too but I didn’t have anything worth sharing before.)

I apologize to everyone who has to listen to me endlessly rant about my DinCobb Survivor AU....except that this fic is my child at this point and I will continue to obsess over it. 

I know so much is up in the air when it comes to our relationship. But you’re not getting rid of me so easily. This ring is a promise of that. I love you, Cobb. Please believe that.

I hope I had the nerve to say that to you before I left.

Yours forever, Din

Tagging: @while-the-world-sleeps, @notgonnarememberthis, @bellamyssapphic, @sipvelle, @i-dnt-know-either, @intricatecakes, @meraki-viajera

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) +1

Y’all should know that this is the very first thing I wrote for this fic. That’s it

Gil steps out of his car taking in the breath of fresh air that hits him, wrapping him in the autumn chill as he walks up Jessica’s driveway. She didn’t know he was coming but they’d talked about this for a while. Clearing the air, getting back to them. Getting back to what feels right. Truthfully, it’s never felt more right than when he’s by her side. Not since Jackie, at least.

The thought scares and excites him at the same time. He should feel overwhelmed, he hasn’t had something he could lose in so long. This doesn’t feel like that though. It feels like coming home.

He smiles thinking about all the times she’d shown up at his door, the same bottle clutched in her fingertips. He set out special glasses just for the two of them long ago. For twenty years they collected dust but now, finally, they rest between his fingers ready for use again.

He has to steady himself as he spies her through the grand window. Light pours around her reflecting off her hair like a bronze halo. The suit jacket she’s wearing is still buttoned at the waist, he figures she just got home recently as she’s pouring herself a drink after a long day. He stops, though, as she pours a second glass.

Regret washes over him, wishing he’d talked to her first. Wishing for the alone time that it had taken him half an hour to psyche himself up to drive over here for. Except she’s not alone. He shouldn’t have come. He is about to back up when she looks up, feeling eyes on her from outside.

Her expression freezes him in his place. Her lips part slightly in a gasp, her breathing picks up as her jaw tightens. It’s her eyes, however, that set apart everything. The way she looks at him with so much hope that he feels like he’s about to burst. The warmth that spreads through his chest makes it all worth it when he reads his name on her lips. A smile breaking across the professional appearance. He doesn’t quite know how long they spent standing there, simply looking at each other, but he knows he could do it for an eternity if she would let him.

It’s Jessica who breaks the gaze first. She turns with all the grace of a woman who’s been photographed her entire life. Every single thing she does so poised that the mere action of turning is mesmerizing. The person she’s with must have entered the room because he watches her lips move, likely an apology for the wait.

Two sharp blasts echo from the home and all he can do is watch in horror as Jessica stumbles back, a look of shock and pain flashing across her face before she falls. The glasses slip from his hands shattering across the concrete in his rush to get to the door. He can’t hear anything but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he tries to push open the front door.

The handle twists but it doesn’t budge when he throws his shoulder back against it. Briefly he recognizes a scream, one filled with terror and pain. It takes too long to recognize that it’s his own. He rears back, drawing his gun from his belt as he kicks open the door. “Jessica!” He hears the back door slam shut, cursing as the person who attacked her is retreating. He follows the familiar path to the dining room, his heart in his throat as he rounds the last corner.

Jessica is on the floor by the window, gasping for any air she can. Her fingers cling to the ever growing crimson stain on her abdomen. She sees him, her eyes bugging out as she tries to wheeze his name.

He’s over to her in no more than three steps, sliding across the linoleum to her side. He can already see where tears began to stream down her cheeks. For a horrific moment all thoughts vanish. Pure panic takes over as he pulls her as gently as he can. “Jess, it’s ok. I’m here.”

“Gil.” She whines, her eyes scrunching shut with the pain. It forces him into action as he shucks off the jacket he was wearing pressing it to the wound.

“I’m here. Just hang on. You’ll be ok.” He pushes her hair aside before pulling out his phone.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“This is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo with major crimes. I have a victim with two gunshot wounds to the abdomen and the suspect has fled. I need an ambulance to 505 Cherry Street.”

“They are on their way lieutenant.” He doesn’t hang up but he shifts his focus back to Jessica when he sees her eyes flutter.

“Jess? Jess, sweetheart I need you to stay awake for me.” A groan leaves her lips but she obeys, her eyes moving to focus on him. “I know, just keep listening to me, ok? I got you.”

“Malcolm,” She wheezes.

“At the precinct. I came alone. I’ll call him and Ainsley both when we get to the hospital.” She shakes her head, he knows he missed something but her distress is only making her panic more. He runs a free hand through her hair trying his best to calm her. His mind spins with a million questions. Who did this? Why? His eyes travel down to the wound, almost the same place where he’d been stabbed almost a year ago now. A voice whispers in his ear the most painful way to die. The shiver that goes down his spine is so violent that it shakes her with his movement. He watches the tears slide down her face as she tries so hard to hold all of her fear together. “Just hold on Jess. They’re coming. Wait for me, ok?”

“I’m trying.” Her voice is barely a whisper but it trembles with all of her pain. Physical, emotional, all of the weight that the world holds on her tips delicately in the room. The careful control she’d established for decades ready to topple. 

“Just a little longer. I’ve got you. Wait for me.” It becomes a mantra until it’s too much. His own shoulders shake under the pressure. Sobs pull from his chest and he wonders how she did it. How she pulled him out, racing him to the hospital, her hand never letting go of his the entire time.

“It’ll be ok.” She repeats with a smile. God, even now she’s trying to be strong for others. The anger that comes with her words is quickly washed away by the sound of sirens. “I don’t want to be alone.” His heart sinks, knowing all too well how she shut herself off from everyone. Ainsley was too distracted, Malcolm was too distressed. All he could do for so long was watch with bated breath because she held him at arm's length. Now, so close that he can feel her unraveling in his arms. Knowing that this could break her. After all these years.

“You’re not alone. I’ve got you. I’m right here. I won’t let you go.” 

“Gil?” He watches her lip tremble and she sounds so tired. God, he knows she’s so tired.

“Just a little longer Jess,” He watches her eyes, how they drop ready to give in to her exhaustion. “I need you.” Her eyes snap open, looking at him with that same hope again. This time breaking his heart with the look.

The paramedics barge in and he moves aside allowing them to work. All the time he stays where she can see him. He wishes he could hold her but for now he stays. When they load her into the ambulance he’s running with them. He shouldn’t get in, he needs to secure the scene. None of it matters when her eyes are on him though, so full of fear that he knows she needs him.

He climbs in, his hand finding hers and holding on with everything he has.

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #angst babyyy #who did it #any guesses #will i tell yall #who knows #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #prodigal son AU #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #today (of all days) plus one #today (of all days) +1

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt. 3

Hello!! I’m not gonna lie this chapter was a,,, problem. I struggled with ideas for so long but I finally landed on something I like!! This hiatus has been killer on my inspiration for writing but I’m determined to finish this! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gil is barely home for 5 minutes when a knock resounds through the apartment. After a couple of drinking celebrating his promotion to lieutenant, he’s feeling a bit fuzzy headed when he pulls the door open. Jessica stands in the center a bottle in hand and a dazzling smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Surprise!” She squeals. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the actual celebration, Ainsley practically hugged my leg refusing to let me leave until I read to her.” Gil smiles despite the obvious lie. He knows the truth, that she can’t be around all those officers. Looks of suspicion or pity on their faces as they stare at her. 

“That’s alright Jess.” He chuckles stepping aside for her to come in. She sweeps in with all the grace she can, immediately stepping into his kitchen and retrieving the glasses. She knows where they are by now, that should make him laugh but when he sees the bottle again after she sets it on the counter he stops in his tracks.

“Oh, Malcolm wants to go out with you to celebrate your promotion too. I thought it’d be nice for it to just be the two of you and Ainsley and I could have a mommy daughter day.”

“I’d like that.” He says, only half paying attention to what she’s saying. He can see it now, the way her shoulders are knotted, like an invisible string is the only thing keeping her upright. Her flowing steps are more controlled than usual, extra precautions taken to not see her even stumble.

He follows her to the couch where he pours them both a drink. She doesn’t down the first like she normally would on nights like these. He wonders if this is her first drink. “Are you listening?”

He blinks, caught in his analysis. “No, sorry.”

“Ainsley has her first competition of the season in three weeks. You’ll make it right?”

“Of course. How can I miss New York’s most promising young figure skater?” He sees the spark in her eye just before it fades. A momentary happiness before being drowned out by whatever is on her mind.

“Good because she hasn’t stopped talking about showing off the new spiral she learned.” She doesn’t meet his eyes as she’s speaking. It’s a rambling sort, where she’s saying literally anything that’s on her mind rather than getting to the heart of the issue. It takes until he finishes this drink to bring himself to stop her.

“Jess, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” She smiles, the one she saves for reporters and on her worse days, her children.

“You haven’t even been able to look at me for the past fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s not true.” “Then look at me.” She purses her lips, tilting her head before she finally meets his gaze. Almost immediately her mask falls apart, tears building in her eyes as she struggles to hold eye contact. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s ridiculous.”

“Not to me.” She drops her head into her free hand, eyes settling on the amber liquid in her glass. “Jessica, talk to me.”

She sighs, but relents, “I ran into an old friend.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Thomas, we grew up together basically. Gave our parents hell in the way only two children of stupidly wealthy families can.”

“Hard to imagine you being rowdy.”

“Oh, I had a whole rebel faze in high school.” She laughs and he joins in. “We would sneak out, drink on the hood of his car, act gloriously stupid.”

“Jess,”

“He’s different. We both are. He took over his father’s business, would’ve been my parent’s dream match for me. Maybe that’s why I was excited to see him again.” She places her glass at the table frantically wiping her eyes before the tears fell. “I could’ve made it right.”

“It’s not your job to make it right.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It just felt like a sign? When I talked to him it was just like old times. He didn’t treat me like-”

“Like the Surgeon’s ex-wife.”

“Exactly.” She picks up her drink again, maybe just for something to cling to. “Well, Adolpho did some digging. Turns out Thomas has an exclusive deal with Barbara Walters.”

“She was using him to get a story.” She nods her head tilted down as her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m so sorry Jess.”

“I just” She sniffs trying to take a deep breath to control the tears. “I thought this was different. Someone finally taking interest in me, not the Whitlys.” She spits the name with a venom she hadn’t before. Long ago she explained why she kept the last name. Now he wonders if she regrets her choice. “Feels stupid now.”

“It wasn’t stupid Jess.” He puts his drink down, reaching to her slowly. He places his hands on her arms.

“Most days I’m fine. I have all I need in my life with Malcolm and Ainsley and-” Her eyes dart away at the almost confession. He tries not to hope that she was going to finish that sentence with you. “But I’m so lonely. But nobody wants to be with the ex-wife of a serial killer.”

“That’s not all you are.”

“That’s all they see me as.”

“Not to me.” She stops, her eyes going wide for a second. 

She takes a deep, shaky breath. Her voice is so quiet it's like she’s afraid to ask. “What do you see?”

He runs his hands down her arms scooting closer. “I see an amazing mother. One who gives up everything to make sure her kids are happy. One who hunted down therapist after therapist for one Malcolm felt comfortable with and never gave up. One who talks about her kids for half an hour before even thinking about herself.” She smiles, a soft broken smile. “I see someone who’s resilient and strong. Hell, I still keep the mental image of when you punched the journalist who tried to talk to Malcolm.”

“Not my best moment.”

“I beg to differ.” He chuckles. “I see your passion. You want to help people, even if they don’t want your help. You’re a good person Jess.”

“Tell that to Barbara Walters.”

“She doesn’t know you. Not like we do. You are tough as hell, and beautiful too.” Her breath catches in her throat at that. He wonders how long it’s been since anyone has called her beautiful. A heavy silence falls over the room. He opens his mouth again but before he can continue her lips are on his.

It feels like his entire mind short circuits for a second. He’d thought of kissing her about a hundred times but never could he think of acting on it. He wishes he could catalogue every feeling but she pulls away too soon.

Her eyes are wide and guilty. A fresh sort of shame washes over him as well, thinking maybe she regrets it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s ok Jess.” “You’re a good man and for a second I just wanted to pretend like I could ever deserve someone like you.”

“Jess.”

“You are so good to my family. Malcolm thinks of you like a father and god how could I jeopardize that?”

“Jessica.”

“I’m so sorry can we-” He cuts her off by cupping her face with both hands and pulling her to him. She tenses when her lips touch his, hands hovering in between them. She relaxes when his thumb runs gently over her cheekbone and she knots her fingers into the front of his turtleneck.

He thinks he could stay there forever, just kissing her. Relishing in the feeling of her nails combing through his hair. She deepens the kiss pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. He feels her smile and laugh against his mouth and he moves a hand to her hip to pull her even closer.

She seems to have a better idea when she pulls away, only for a second to swing her leg over his lap straddling him. He doesn’t even have time to react before she’s kissing him again. He runs his fingers through her curls, they’re as soft as he thought they would be. When her tongue swipes across his he can taste the bourbon and a hint of vodka on her lips.

The confirmation of what he thought earlier is like being doused in freezing water. He pulls away but she immediately goes to attack his neck instead. “Jess.” He runs his hands over her back trying to get her attention. She only makes an inquisitive sound in response. “We’re drunk.” She hums in confirmation as if that was the most obvious thing. “Jess, stop.”

She pulls away and he watches the guilt appear again. “You’re right.”

“No, listen.” He brushes back the hair that fell in front of her face. “I want this, but I want you to want this when you’re sober.”

“I do.”

“Then we will try this again later. Why don’t you take my bed again tonight?” 

“Only if you come with.” He tilts his head in disapproval as she stands, slightly uneven on her feet. She raises her hands sticking on her bottom lip. “No funny business, I promise.” Her expression changes, growing more serious. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Fine.” He relents and her smile reappears. “But no funny business.”

“I promise.”

When they settle into bed Jessica is once again wearing one of his shirts. He’s beginning to wonder if she doesn’t bring spare clothes for the purpose of stealing his t-shirts on nights they get drunk. He decides he doesn’t mind when she turns, placing her head on his chest listening to his heart until it lulls her to sleep.

The next morning when he wakes up she’s already gone. He spies the note on his nightstand with her careful swirling handwriting.

Belluci’s, tonight at 8. Wear something nice.

XO, Jessica

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #prodigal son AU #gilssica #today (of all days) #today (of all days) pt 3 #today (of all days) part 3

[notgonnarememberthis]

Playtime’s Over

For @bellamyssapphic

NAOMIIIIIIIII It's your birthday!!!!!!! Happy birthday!!! I'm so happy to have gotten to know you over the past few weeks and that I had the opportunity to write this for you! You've been so nice and supportive and I just honestly wanted to do something a lil special for your birthday. I hope you have a wonderful day full of treats and gifts!!

Also ofc shoutout to Em for helping me beta this, thank you for tossing around ideas with me and giving me some brilliant ideas. You are so fucking special as always.

“Jessica.” Nicolas’s voice rolls like venom as she steps in. “I’m not going to lie, I was expecting Malcolm.” Her eyes fall on Ainsley who’s shaking. A single tear rolling down her cheek as she stares straight ahead.

“He’s not coming. Just me.”

“Mom.” Ainsley’s voice is strained. He grips her arm and it takes every bit of self control not to rip it right off.

“Ainsley has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you have me now. This is what you wanted. My son is on the run for a murder he didn’t commit, Martin is in Rikers and will probably die there. I’m all that’s left. She’s innocent.”

“No Whitly is innocent.” He growls but he releases her arm. Ainsley runs to her wrapping both arms tightly around her torso. She brushes her hair aside with a sad smile holding her just as tightly.

“Take care of your brother.” Jessica whispers and Ainsley breaks down in sobs refusing to let go. “Go baby.”

“No!”

“Go.” She pulls her by the shoulders kissing her on the forehead. Ainsley’s face crumples, it reminds her so much of when she would scrape her knees insisting that her kisses would make them better. She hopes that this one will make it better.  “Malcolm needs you.” That settles it Ainsley’s eyes. Protect Malcolm. She has to go protect Malcolm.

The two of them know he hadn’t actually left. He’s at the hospital, only aware of Gil fighting for his life in the other room. No idea why she left or where she went. No idea that while he went to get coffee, his phone had chimed with an urgent message from Ainsley to come home. No idea that when he returned, she would be gone. He’ll know when Ainsley arrives. He’s always been so observant.

The silence drapes across the room, a delicate calm settled between the two of them. Jessica feels anything but, with her heart thundering in her chest and Gil’s blood still staining her clothes. She’d sent Ainsley here for new clothes. She sent Ainsley to him. The guilt rages across her filling her with anger and grief all at once.

“You won’t get away with this. The police are getting a warrant now.” His laugh bounces off the walls. An empty sound that smacks her in the chest. He almost sounds like Martin.

“They won’t find anything.”

“They will take you down.” The threat comes out with a low growl, the bass echoing in her stomach.

“Who will? Your lieutenant? Your son? They will be taken care of soon.” His words send ice down her spine making her freeze up. What the hell does that mean? “Come now, you didn’t think I’d believe Malcolm would run. He’s too headstrong, too stubborn. Too much like his mother.”

She inches closer to the dresser lining the walls. She needs to do something to calm her heart. A drink. She needs a drink. He steps closer as she opens the drawer, her fingers finding the cool metal that lies inside. Her heart sinks at the weight in her palm. He doesn’t see, she hopes he doesn’t at least. That’s all she can hold onto. That he’s so blinded by himself that he can’t truly see.

“It would only take a single text. All of your family will be gone by the end of the night. The lieutenant, your bastard of a son, and your nosy daughter.” She takes a deep breath and finally, her heart slows. Blissfully, she can think. “Give it up Jessie. You can’t stop me.”

Three sharp blasts is actually all it takes. Crimson spots forming quickly on his white shirt. His face shifts from confusion, to pain, to panic all in a matter of seconds. Nicholas stumbles back, falling when his legs no longer support him. Her ears ring painfully; she never imagined a gun would be that loud.

She watches from afar as he takes two wheezing breaths before they stop all together. He lies painfully still while his blood stains the rug that’s been in her family twice as long as she has. The only thing she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears as the world thunders back to life. She doesn’t even hear the voice calling out to her.

Everything rushes back all at once when she spies the figure standing in the doorway. Adolpho’s eyes are widened, flashing between her and the body. Panic settles in as she realizes what she just did. She had killed Nicolas Endicott. She had shot him three times and watched him die in her living room. “I had to.” She whispers, horrified. She’s not sure if the assurance is for Adolpho, or herself. “He was going to kill them.”

She’s not sure what she expects. Yet he nods, his jaw set. “We’ll take care of it.” She doesn’t know what that means, part of her is too afraid to ask when he takes the gun from her all too calmly. She wonders if he knew this would happen.

She wonders if he always knew it would be her in the end.

Adolpho smashes the phone that had fallen just out of Nicolas’s reach. Part of her knows she needs to warn Malcolm, at least Dani about the impending danger. Just because he couldn’t text the person anymore doesn’t mean they’re safe. She needs to make sure that they are safe. Yet her entire body feels like lead. It’s too easy to remain there staring at the glassy eyes of a man who choked on his own hubris as he laid bleeding on her floor.

It all moves too quickly after that.

It’s hours later when she finds herself in the field. The body and her rug reek of gasoline, the scent so strong it permeates the nature around them. She doesn’t ask how Adolpho knew to do all this. Her father had hired him after Martin. He’d insisted it was for her protection. How the hell was a driver for her own protection? She was too tired to argue back then. She wonders briefly how many secrets the Milton’s held too as she strikes the match.

It falls sending smoke billowing into the night sky.

UH OH!! END CARD?! Surprise this is actually a part of a larger series coming out later!!! Murder family AU has begun. Buckle in babes

#prodigal son #prodigal son AU #jessica whitly #nicholas endicott #ainsley whitly #murder family au #gift #murder family #it's begun babes #stay tuned #this is just the beginning #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic

[notgonnarememberthis]

i will wrap you in my arms (and keep you safe)

Well my city is under an ice storm warning and all my things got cancelled today so I wrote a little something to match the vibes. Enjoy!!

Gil steps out of his car arms loaded, the trudge through the snow is difficult but worth the scene he comes to. The lake had frozen overnight leaving the perfect conditions for their plans. Jessica had called him early in the morning to ask to join them at their cabin further up north. Plans of snowball fights and hot chocolate with his favorite family being too good to resist. Seeing this, he’s thankful he did. Jessica and Ainsley twirl around each other on skates, their laughter and the sound of ice scraping filling the air with joy.

For a seven year old, Ainsley took well to skating. She was a natural almost immediately, with all the grace of her mother who’d grown up skating but gave it up for a couple of years. Now their moves match the other and he smiles at how much Ainsley looks like her mother when she laughs. Her disappointment had been palpable when a group of moms decided they didn’t want Ainsley in their class, solely because of her name. Because of her father. Jessica had looked heartbroken and so angry. Thankfully, however, he knew of a lake that was perfect in the winter for this. 

Malcolm, who is sitting by the lake with a book in hands perks up at the sound of footsteps and runs over. “Gil!” He slows up as he approaches, realizing that he’s carrying their lunch but he smiles nonetheless. “I didn’t know you were coming!” Gil looks at Jess over his head with a sparkle in his eyes. Of course she wanted to surprise them.

“I couldn’t miss out on a snowball fight. Think we can beat your mother and sister?”

“Yeah!”

“Well we better eat up first. We’re going to need some fuel.” Malcolm casts a glance to the two of them. For a moment he looks mournful, like he would regret interrupting their moment of peace. He follows his eyes watching Jessica toss her head back, curls flying with the movement. “Tell you what, why don’t we give them a few minutes and you can tell me about the book you’re reading?”

Malcolm nods excitedly pulling them back over to the spot he’d been sitting. He has his own personal area set up with his book and a couple of games as well as his own skates if he decided to join the two of them. Gil takes up shop beside him letting him go on about the book about the cosmos that Jess had gotten him. He can’t help but smile as his eyes light up when he talks about it.

“Gil!” The excited shout pulls his attention back to the ice where Ainsley is speeding towards the two of them with her mother in tow.

“Ainsley be careful!” She calls out.

The moment plays out all at once. Jessica’s face sinks for only a second before she’s pushing herself even faster. Malcolm is on his feet in a split second, running towards them, seeing something that he hadn’t. Ainsley, who is blissfully unaware, lets out a cry as she’s suddenly scooped up from behind and thrown safely into a snowbank.

Gil’s mind clicks what was wrong seconds too late. Ainsley had been hurtling towards a dark, thin patch of ice between them. Jessica and Malcolm had seen it. The sickening crack shakes the air as Jessica drops beneath the surface with no more than a shout. 

Gil moves immediately into action grabbing Malcolm by the waste and stopping him before he can run out as well. “Stop!” He holds the squirming teenager tightly. “Go check your sister, get me the biggest branch you can find. I’ve got her.” He stops struggling and takes off to get Ainsley.

Gil slides unevenly across the ice dropping to his hands and knees as he gets closer to the hole. He screams her name but she’s not responding, only in short moments where she can only get out a shout or two before her head slips under again. It’s harder to get purchase there and his heart sinks as Jessica disappears underneath the black water and doesn’t come back up again. Once there he plunges his arms into the water desperately feeling around for her. When he doesn’t feel anything, he sticks his head in ignoring the pain as he tries against everything to see her.

When he surfaces he feels more than sees Malcolm passing him a long branch. He takes it with both hands pushing it into the water. He almost cries with relief when he feels the resistance of something pulling on it beneath the water. He reaches in again finding Jessica’s hand on the branch, from there he follows her arm until he can reach her shoulders pulling her with all his might onto the surface again. She comes up with a gasp, her breathing short from the cold and shock rushing through her. He uses the purchase of the back of her coat to pull her all the way out of the water.

She’s shivering violently and whimpering, “Ainsley.” She manages to get out, her teeth chattering the entire time.

“She’s safe, you tossed her out of the way.” He runs his shaking hand over her slicked hair checking to see if she hit her head at all but he doesn’t see any sign of bruising or scratches. He sits up cradling her head into her lap while keeping a close eye on Malcolm and Ainsley at the same time. “I got you Jess, I got you.” He whispers, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night it takes Malcolm and Ainsley longer than usual to settle down. The two of them hover around their mother like she does when either of them are sick and hurt. Ainsley is still a little confused at the events but she could tell Malcolm was worried, so she was worried. Jessica still sits in front of the fireplace, hardly moving all night other than to put the children to bed.

She looks smaller with the large blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair had long since dried but her shivering never subsided. He knows, deep down, she’s plagued by her own thoughts. That’s what is causing the shaking, not the cold.

He reaches down to her passing her a cup of hot chocolate. She looks up, as if startled by his presence but smiles at the offer. Her lip tweaks a little more at the marshmallows packed over the top. “Really?”

“It helps Ainsley when she gets worked up.”

“Is it spiked?”

“Couldn’t find any liquor.”

“Damn.” She smiles as she takes a sip nonetheless. He takes a seat next to her, their shoulders touching. She leans closer and it makes a shiver run down his spine. “Thank you.” He turns his head in confusion. “For saving me.”

“You don’t have to thank me Jess. You saved Ainsley.”

“I almost didn’t.” She whispers and the confession holds in the air heavily. “I felt the ice cracking as I picked her up. Another second and we both would’ve fell in. I keep seeing her stuck in there and I-”

“Malcolm tried to go out, if I wouldn’t have stopped him I think he would’ve thrown himself in to get you.” She looks at him startled.

“Is this supposed to help?”

He tips his head in a half shrug. “Point is, we can’t get lost in the ifs. You threw Ainsley like a ragdoll though, who knew you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well grabbing Malcolm mid nightmare while he’s sprinting towards the steps will build strength real fast.” She laughs but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. He reaches out taking her hand, when she doesn’t pull away he gives it a light squeeze. She’s stronger than most people he knows. To power through the things she does, he can’t help but admire her.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to go get checked out?” His eyes study her face. While there were no external signs of injury he’s more than aware how quickly hypothermia can set in. Even with how fast he and Malcolm got her to the car versus getting her warm in the cabin, he’s still weary about it all.

“No hospitals. Please.” He almost misses the plea at the end, it’s so quiet. “I’m fine. Really. If anything changes I’ll tell you.” He only nods wrapping his arm around her shoulders. The fire flickers in the quiet, pulling his attention to the dancing flames. “I’m sorry your day off wasn’t really as planned.”

“No.” He chuckles. “It sure wasn’t.” She sighs but he tilts his tone again, “I suppose it’s a good thing I got Nelson to trade shifts with me so I have the whole weekend here.” Her jaw drops in shock and she shoves him playfully. “Play nice.” He teases.

“Make me.” She blushes realizing the challenge had slipped out before she could control it. They’ve flirted a few times in the past year, this family quickly becoming his new normal. This feels different though, like the walls are closing in on them, like the air is electric. He leans in before she can begin to apologize.

Her lips on his feels like the universe righting itself. Everything at once clicking into place. He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into something she doesn’t want but he wishes it would’ve lasted a little longer.

He gets his wish when she pulls him back in, abandoning her mug on the wooden floor. His hand goes to tangle in her curls pulling her even closer. The smell of vanilla and honey threatens to overwhelm his senses. The taste of the hot chocolate on her lips is addictive and he just wants more.

He pulls away again, this time to catch his breath. Her smile lights up the room more than the fire, her eyes dancing with a hope that she’d confessed to him years ago that she’d lost. It makes his heart skip more than a few beats to be the one to witness such a change. How lucky could he possibly be?

Settling back into the quiet with Jessica’s head on his shoulder he’s certain he’s the luckiest person in the world.

#prodigal son #gilica #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #malcolm bright #Ainsley Whitly #precanon #before the show #2 years post martin's arrest specifically #why #i dunno #prodigal son AU #canon compliant #but an au nonetheless #notgonnarememberthis fics #oneshot #fanfic

[notgonnarememberthis]

Intoxicating

Was looking for something to write and @while-the-world-sleeps offered up this lil idea based off a scene from bones. Enjoy!!

“Where are we going Gil, seriously?” They were both a little tipsy walking home from their night out. They’d only had a few drinks but he could see that her head was swimming. That was good, it would lower her boundaries a little for what he had planned.

The night had been going well, Jessica had agreed to dinner with them. It had meant to be just making up for what he’d said. The curse comment lingered between them for far too long, it had driven her back to Martin. The guilt still weighs heavily on his shoulders even after she insisted that she didn’t blame him. He’d cooked for her but the conversation drifted quickly, like it normally would between them.

Her sister had visited her. Gil hadn’t heard Jess mention her sister in over 25 years, that much was a shock. However, the two were always pitted against each other. Their relationship was strained, to say the least when perfect Jessica with her perfect husband and perfect children had her life derailed by 23 bodies.

She lamented the lack of a relationship. It was Jessica who personally made sure Ainsley and Malcolm remained close, reminding them that when they have nothing else in the world they will have each other. She laughs now, tensely, on how at least they listened to her about that.

Yet, he knows her too well. Jessica missed out on a lot in her life. Sometimes it still shocks him still when she shoots him a puzzled look when he turns on a song. Anything Jess listened to was either classics or something she picked up from Ainsley. He only smiles and continues walking.

“Gil,” She stops in her tracks tilting her head in what most would perceive as annoyance. However, knowing her for over two decades he knows more than most that she likes to have all the answers. Rarely does someone manage to surprise her.

“Just a little further. I promise.” He grabs her hand and she tenses. For a moment he thinks she might pull away. The conversation had flowed as easily as the scotch but both of them refrained from touching. He misses the comfort, a lump forming in his throat as he waits for her to pull away from him again. 

Instead her fingers lace through his, her gaze locked on their hands. “Ok.” She whispers, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. The sight spreads warmth through his chest as he pulls her into a park they’d been walking towards. She shoots him a side glance, it’s enough for him to know that she recognizes the place. They’d brought Malcolm and Ainsley here a lot after Martin. It was enough for Malcolm to sit on the bench with him while Ainsley ran out the boundless energy all five year olds seemed to possess.

“Here we are.” He announces as they stop in front of the swingset.

“I could have sworn we had the same amount of drinks.” She teases, “What are we doing here?”

“Well,” He lets go of her hand approaching the swings stopping and turning to her with a gesture. “You talked about missing out on a lot as a kid. I can’t give you a relationship with your sister back. But I can push you on the swings.”

“Gil.” She looks around, although it’s late and there’s nobody around. He knows that more than anyone, having brought Malcolm out here on late nights when the nightmares were worse. “Someone might see.”

“Since when did you start caring what others thought?” Her jaw drops at that, searching for an answer. It’s a challenge. Jessica Whitly never backs down from a challenge. She sits on the swing with all the grace she can with the unfamiliar motion. Her hands fly up to the chains that brace her on both sides as he begins pulling her backwards. “Relax.” He feels the shiver go up her spine as he whispers in her ear. They’re closer than they have been in months and the proximity is as intoxicating as the liquor was. “I’ve got you.”

He lets go and she swings forward with a short laugh. He pushes gently on her lower back when she comes back towards him again, keeping the motion her legs counteract. As she gets ahold of the movement he stops pushing, letting her kick off the ground as a boost instead. He takes the one next to her matching the momentum of her swing easily. He reaches out and grips her chain keeping them in sync. It takes her a moment but she moves her hand to his chain as well finally relaxing into the steady motion.

They fall into the slow lull, only the squeaking of metal breaking the night air. His eyes remain on her as she stares ahead. A look of sadness passes over her features. It’s only for a moment but he’s more than practiced in catching her microexpressions.

“Jess,”

“I never thought I’d be back here again.” Her eyes fall on the twisted slide, no doubt picturing Ainsley going down it over and over. “It still looks the same.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and get to come again.” Her breath catches at the we. His ears burn at the slip of his tongue but she brushes off the emotions with her signature sarcasm.

“I’m not old enough to be a grandmother yet.” He chuckles and her laugh eases some of the tension in his chest. She shivers, the night air wrapping around her shoulders and he knows it’s time to go. He wishes they could stay there for hours but Ainsley will start getting worried soon and he has to be at the precinct early. He hops off the swing much to Jessica’s surprise, stepping in front of her to stop her motion as well.

They end up closer than he intended as he backs her up to stand again. Her chest is pressed against his and her breath fans his face. Her eyes flash from his own then to his mouth and back again. He wants so badly to take the step again, to close the distance between them.  He leans in closer and she grips his jacket in response. Eleven months. He’s waited eleven months to be this close to her again. A voice in the back of his mind that suspiciously sounds like Ainsley tells him that this may be his only chance.

He takes it, capturing her lips with his yet again. All the fear and hesitation melts away as he tastes the scotch on her lips. Her hands twist in the fabric of his jacket pulling him impossibly closer, her smile breaking the contact only briefly.

“I’ve missed you.” Her words strike a part of him that makes him not want to let her go. It makes him want to say to hell with everything else and focus only on her. It’s dizzying, having her so close.

“I’ve missed you too.” Her phone rings, breaking the moment. He leans his forehead against hers as a look of dread passes over her features. “Ainsley?” He asks although he knows the answer.

She checks briefly before nodding. “I told her I’d be back by eleven.” A quick glance at his watch tells him it is well past then. He wonders how many texts she ignored. He bites the inside of his cheek knowing that he’s going to get an earful from Malcolm tomorrow about how Ainsley wouldn’t stop texting him asking where their mother was. He almost thinks they’re more protective of their mother than she is of them. Almost.

They take a longer route back to his home than they probably should, he can see Adolpho parked by the entrance to his apartment. The look of momentary guilt that passes over Jessica’s face tells him the man will be getting a hefty bonus for coming out at this time of night. They say their goodbyes and he kisses her once more, lingering in the proximity. When she smiles, her nose scrunches in a way that makes his heart stop for a beat.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Miss me already?”

“Always.” Her expression softens at that, the vulnerability shining in her eyes as she pulls away from him regrettably. He waves to Adolpho with an apologetic smile but the driver is grinning from ear to ear. Gil knows this will be a talk amongst all of Jessica’s employees tomorrow. He looks back to her, catching her staring at him too. “Jess.”

“Yes?”

He almost says it. The three words hanging at the edge of his tongue. He holds them in, though, not wanting to push her too far. Maybe next time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Gil.”

He watches the car as it fades off into the night, the electricity of her touch keeps him awake long after he settles into bed.

#prodigal son #gilica #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #fluff #canon compliant #prodigal son spoilers #prodigal son season 2 #is it spoilers #not really #but ill tag it just in case #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #one shot

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt. 2

Here y'all go!!! Another update has officially dropped and I hope y'all enjoy this. Ngl I wasn't entirely sure where this one was going BUT I do like where it ended up.

The second time she comes Gil is half asleep on the couch, case files spread all around his coffee table and a half filled mug dangling precariously on the ledge. They’d been around each other a lot more in the months following, but she never did come with a bottle in hand and her burdens to unload. The knock startles him awake and he shuffles all the papers back into their respective folders, pulling on a shirt to go answer.

Jessica stands, her face twisted in pain he hadn’t seen since the first night of Martin’s arrest. When her eyes meet his she just crumples, like a house of cards in the slightest breeze. Tears slide down her cheeks and her breath comes out in short whines. She’s trying desperately to explain but she can’t get out anything past her frantic sobs.

Her cries send him into immediate action, one hand securing the bottle she has in one hand while the other loops around her shoulders ushering her inside. He kicks the door closed behind him not really caring about the noise or the attention it might draw when Jessica is falling apart in his arms.

He places the bottle down next to the bowl that contains his keys and slowly reaches out his hands to her. He waits until she sees them as not to startle her with touch, when she doesn’t jump away he places them gently on her shoulders. “Jess, easy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I couldn’t.” She wheezes. “I can’t.”

She can’t breathe, he surmises from her hands scratching at her own chest. His eyes widen momentarily, he’s seen panic attacks before with Malcolm but seeing them come from Jessica is new. He wonders how long she’s kept them a secret from others. “Jess, focus.” Her eyes snap to him again. “Breathe with me.” He breathes slow, and she tries to follow the rhythm but-

“I can’t.” She sobs.

“Yes, you can. Keep trying with me.” She forces herself to play along, breathing in short hiccuped air before exhaling slowly. Eventually with the movement she settles, though her tears do not stop. “What’s wrong?”

“Martin,” She sucks in a deep breath again trying to control her panic. “Martin called. And I answered.”

“How the hell does he even have a phone?” She tosses her head back, the motion screaming that she was wondering the same exact thing. “What did he want?”

“He wished me a happy anniversary.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“It’s your wedding anniversary?” She nods with a note of shame.

“I saw the call and for a minute. I just forgot. I forgot everything.” Her head falls, her hand coming in front of her eyes to try to hide her face. “How can you forget 23 dead women?” She devolves into sobs again and he simply pulls her into a hug letting her cry it out. He doesn’t have any words to help her. How can you comfort a woman who’s so suddenly a single mother, not because of her husband’s death but because he’s a prolific serial killer? “I just froze.” She cries into his shoulder. “His voice. It was.”

He shushes her as she cries, one hand resting between her shoulder blades and the other brushing through her hair. Her fingers cling to the front of his shirt, desperate for anything to cling to.

“God, Ainsley found me just standing there. He’d hung up but who knows how long I was just there.”

“She’s too young to know. She’ll forget it by tomorrow.”

“I know.” She sighs. “If it were Malcolm.”

“It wasn’t.” He pulls her back forcing her eyes to meet his. “You can’t drown yourself in ifs, Jess.” She sighs, knowing that he’s right. “Let me get the glasses and we can talk more ok?” She nods, moving to the couch. He watches her closely, seeing how her shoulders are folded inwards, completely uncharacteristic of the woman who takes so much pride in how she presents herself to the world. He doesn’t know if he’s honored or saddened that she doesn’t feel the need to wear that mask here.

He comes back with the same glasses from the first night, recognition flashes in her eyes and her lip twitches upwards at the memory. He pours them both a drink and she knocks back her first with ease. He schools the frown that threatens to show, instead flipping to a more comfortable topic.

“How are Malcolm and Ainsley?”

“Blissfully unaware. They’re off getting spoiled by their aunt who will dig way too much, but honestly what other option do I have?”

“I could take them for the night.” 

“No, I need-” She catches herself before she lets the words slip. The way she swallows, her eyes holding all the vulnerability of a bird with a broken wing. He knows how the sentence was going to end. I need you.

“Well, the offer stands any time you need. I love having them over. Though Ainsley keeps asking if I’m going to get a cat because I told her about my mother’s cat having kittens.”

“So I can blame you for that.”

“Just a bit.” A hint of a smile plays at her lips again and they fall into the comfortable silence of drinking. After her third, he can see that she’s starting to slump. All composure has been forgotten as the buzz takes over. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

A playful grin pulls at her mouth as she flips her hair, sending a rush of heat to his cheeks. “I’ve hardly been divorced for 2 months and you’re already making a move?” He stammers for a moment. He can’t say in his more shameful moments he hadn’t thought of it. She’s a beautiful woman, and strong as all hell too. But he wouldn’t. He can’t. She tips back her head letting out a loud laugh that doesn’t do any good for the knots forming around his heart. “Oh my god, your face!” She squeals.

“Very funny.” He chuckles. “But I really don’t think you should be alone tonight.” His statement cuts her laugh short. He half expects her to turn somber once again but instead the air feels electric. He stands before either of them can do anything that they’d regret in the morning. “I’ll get you some clothes, you can take my bed tonight.”

“I can’t put you out of your own bed.”

“I insist. Besides, my couches are a lot more comfortable than yours.” She feigns offense but it’s true. He bought his couch solely for the occasions when he falls asleep on them while pouring over case files while hers are solely for appearances. A traitorous voice asks what else she has just for appearances.

“Gil?” He turns, as she catches his wrist. For a moment he wishes that they’d met in a different time. Some time before her world had gone to hell. A time where he could try. She stops his train of thought when she presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. A sad look passes over her eyes, different from her sadness over her destroyed family and broken life. He wonders for a moment if she wishes the same as him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He says, his voice soft. The tone reserved only for her or her children.

And she smiles.

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #today (of all days) #today (of all days) pt 2 #today (of all days) part 2 #fanfic #notgonnarememberthis fics #am i ok #am i ever when i write panic attacks in my fics #probably not #but listen #i'm coping

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt. 1

Hello! I am back! Dropped off writing for a bit due to hiatus and my utter inability to write things in order but I have returned with a brand new 5+1 idea. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

5 times Gil helped Jessica + 1 time he was too late

Jessica wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing here, not really. With a bottle of bourbon in one hand and two suite tickets to the Mets game in the other she was certain it was a thank you. For helping her with the interrogations, for being there for Malcolm the past few months. Everything felt like a tornado right now, ripping her life apart but Gil-

Gil felt like something to hold onto.

However, standing here, in front of the door feels a lot more like moving on than she expected. Having someone to hold onto meant having something to lose. She’d already lost everything. She couldn’t do it again. Not this time.

She’s almost completely convinced herself to leave the gift on his doorstep and call once she was out of earshot when the door swings open. Gil doesn’t even look shocked to see her there, only raising an eyebrow at her dumbfounded look.

“How long were you planning on standing outside my door?” The smirk on his face tells her he’s joking.

“How-”

“I heard your heels. Nobody that lives on this floor would risk their neck walking in those.” He steps aside pulling the door open a little wider for her. “Come on in.” She does, taking a moment to look around. She’d seen his place for only passing moments. Mostly when she needed someone to watch Malcolm and Ainsley when she had a court hearing. The process of Martin’s trial was exhausting enough without Malcolm having a panic attack at the thought of being left alone with even just Luisa, who he’d known his whole life.

Though, he’d thought he’d known Martin his entire life too.

“Would you like a drink?” Gil’s voice pulls her out of the spiral she’d slipped into. He looks concerned, not many people do now-a-days.

“No, actually. I brought these for you.” She lifts the gifts to hand over to him. “It’s a thank you. For everything you’ve done for the past few months. Without you I-” She almost laughs. Truthfully, without him she would be nowhere. Likely lost in some pit of alcohol and pills, praying that neither of her kids are the ones that find their mother like that. After her family disgraced her with tuttering remarks that they always knew Martin Whitly was trouble, she felt abandoned. Cast aside with two children, one traumatized beyond any reason for a 12 year old and the other so painfully oblivious that even when she tried to go on as normal it unintentionally ripped Jessica’s heart out. Suddenly a single mother with no family.

“You didn’t need to do this.” Gil smiles, taking the tickets and bottle from her hands.

“I wanted to.”

“Well, I can’t wait to teach Malcolm the correct team to be rooting for.” Her jaw drops again. That wasn’t who the other ticket was meant for. He was supposed to bring a friend, or family, or a girlfriend. Not Malcolm. “What? You didn’t think I’d bring Shannon, did you?”

She tilts her head disapprovingly. “You don’t.”

“Jess.” He sighs placing both down and taking her by the shoulders. It’d become a common practice. A stance he adopted when he could see everything becoming too much all at once. Especially on the days of the trial where she was forced to testify against the man she loved. Or, once loved. “Malcolm is a good kid. I like having him around. Right now, he needs to feel normal and If I can give him a day where I teach him everything I know about baseball? If it distracts him from everything else for just one day, that makes me happy.”

“You’re a good man.” She smiles, almost lamenting how she wishes for a moment that Gil was Malcolm’s father. He was the antithesis of her, grounded and calm. A hero for both the city but for her son too.

“Should I get two glasses?” She looks to the door, her lips searching for an excuse to leave that truthfully doesn’t exist. Her schedule completely cleared of everything shortly after Martin’s arrest other than press hounding her every other day. Publishists demands for the story of Mrs. Whitly flooded her voicemail. Both Malcolm and Ainsley at school for another 5 hours meant she would be all alone in a home that whispered with the voices of dead women she never even met before.

“Sure.” She decides. He moves to the cabinet retrieving two glasses that look more expensive than anything she’d really expect him to own.

“Family heirloom.” He explains, having caught her expression of surprise. “My mother gave them to me as a good luck gift after I graduated from the academy.”

“Well I could use all the luck I could get.” She chuckles dryly.

“That and I don’t think glasses I got on sale at Macy’s are quite fitting for what you brought.” That does actually get a genuine laugh from her. It feels good to laugh. Truthfully she doesn’t remember the last time she had a real one, not laced with a fake polite tone or sarcasm. He pours them both a glass and they move into the living room.

His decor is much simpler than her home. The walls hold a lot more frames, family and friends smile back at her and she stops in her tracks when she notices one of Malcolm. He’s smiling at the camera with a wide toothed grin that brings tears to her eyes. She remembers Gil had asked her if it was ok that he had that photo in his apartment. A small moment from a diner she heard Malcolm talk about a lot, Mel’s if she remembers or something along those lines. Seeing the photo here, amongst other family of Gil’s, hit something different. A chord struck that she wasn’t the only one looking out for him now.

“Jess,” Gil calls to her, his voice a little panicked. She looks over and she wonders just how long he’d been trying to get her attention.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“How are you doing?” The question catches her off guard. So many people have asked her that in the past month alone. A call from her mother, from Birdie, her attorney, Alphonso, the therapist that Luisa recommended to her.

“I’m fine.” She tries.

“Jessica.” The tone is a don’t bullshit me one. He had a knack for knowing when she was lying.

“I can’t think about it. Not right now. It’s all-” Her voice catches in her throat and she chases the lump away with a drink. “Right now everything is too close. If I stop, it will all hit at once. I can’t let myself be swept up by Martin. Not when Malcolm and Ainsley need me.”

“But who’s there for you?” She stops again, staring off for a moment. Truly, the only person that she thought was ever there for her is getting a cushy space in a psychiatric hospital when he should be rotting in prison. When she can’t find an answer Gil speaks up again, “Well, I’ll tell you what. If you ever need anything my door is open.”

“I can’t do that to you. Not when you do so much for this family already.”

“Well, how about this. You bring the bourbon and we can talk about anything you need to talk about over a good drink that probably costs more than my paycheck.” She laughs, again it feels like it loosens some of the tension in her chest. A part of her screams at her, knowing that she’s getting to close again but yet his eyes are so gentle. With a smile that feels so soft that it should only be shared with the purest of heart. She doesn’t deserve to be smiled like that, and yet.

“I’d like that.”

#prodigal son #gilica #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #today (of all days) #today (of all days) pt 1 #today (of all days) part 1 #yall ready for this

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter ten

God, I have been SO EXCITED for this chapter. BIG praise to Em who helped me get through little hooks and finding Martin’s voice. Honestly they are crazy talented and have such a grasp for his tone and movements they’re such a big help to me and I love my best friend so damn much ok. 

Anyways!! I wanted to send this out after tonight’s ep but I have yet to watch it. I was out with my sister helping her get over a sad spell so I unfortunately missed it live and won’t be able to watch until tomorrow so I would love to avoid spoilers. Thank y’all so much!! Hope y’all enjoy the update!

Gil opens the door to the morgue, Edrisa looks up from the body with a small nod but her normal smile isn’t quite there. Malcolm stands beside her shifting from side to side. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. JT lingers in the corner of the room, jaw set. “Ready?”

This presentation feels heavier than most. It doesn’t help either he or Malcolm that they both had to reluctantly leave the apartment so early in the morning. Ainsley remained behind, having called in a few favors to work from his place at least until the case was solved. Still, he worries. They both do.

“Yes,” Edrisa breathes, settling into the motions. “Cause of death was the slit throat. There were traces of tranquilizer in the victim, that might be how he was transferred from place to place. The state of the body suggests he’s been dead for a day.”

“He was alive an entire week. Our killer waited. He waited until mother was out of the hospital.” He’s already agitated, it’s not good.

“He wasn’t killed in Mrs. Whitly’s home. He was transported post mortem.”

“We can assume our killer has completely unraveled. This kill goes completely off M.O.”

“He’s desperate.” Gil agrees. 

“Has she remembered anything yet?” Gil turns to where JT is standing.

“No.” Malcolm sighs, “She’s going through dissociative amnesia. Ainsley did after…” He gestures, it’s enough for them to understand. “Honestly, I hope she doesn’t.”

“You do?” The question isn’t meant as a harm but he sees Malcolm flinch. There’s a flash of guilt on JT’s face but Malcolm waves him off before he can apologize.

“From an investigative standing? I would. It would certainly help narrow it down.” He shakes his head, like trying to rid of a thought that was too much even for him. “But after Ainsley remembered? She completely shut down. She looked right past us and it tore my mother up.” Gil remembers that. The blank stare lasted for hours before she finally broke down. It was Jessica who finally got her out of it, playing with her hair and singing her a lullaby. “I don’t want that for her.”

Edrisa places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and to Malcolm’s credit rather than flinching away he subtly leans into the touch.

“Did we find out any more about Freddy?” The question seems to bring a new heaviness to the room. Edrisa and Malcolm share a look, one that tells they know something that hasn’t been spoken quite yet.

“We found an ID card on the inside of his jacket.” Edrisa grabs a baggie with the ID badge inside passing it to Gil. “He was a student volunteer at Claremont Psychiatric.”

“Claremont? You think-”

“We don’t know if he has any connection to the surgeon.” Malcolm’s eyes fall to the body. “But I’ve seen him around. It was only in passing but he was nice. Always smiled when I passed.”

“Does Jess know?”

“No. But it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Malcolm bobs his head before straightening, trying to summon every ounce of professionalism he has to ignore the warring feelings.

“Freddy’s full name is Francisco Garcia. When mom was delivering her statement to the police she said Freddy helped tie the tourniquet on her leg. That his mom is a trauma surgeon.” Gil’s face sinks, coming to the same conclusion. Jessica’s doctor that had been helping in the investigation, Dr. Garcia. “Agent Swanson is on her way to the hospital to confirm our findings. But we’re almost certain it’s Dr. Garcia’s son.”

“Did she know he was missing?”

“My guess? No. He was a med student and a volunteer. He probably went weeks at a time without checking in.” Gil runs a hand through his beard. Even thinking about telling Jessica was ripping him apart. She’d connected well with her doctor, it helped that she was a friendly woman. But Jessica will want to help with funeral expenses, help the family financially for whatever they need. There’s no way he can get past telling her.

A ringtone startles them out of the somber silence. Malcolm reaches into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing when he reads the caller ID. “Ains?” His anxious movements stop as his eyes meet Gil’s “What’s wrong?” He can barely make out the sound of crying coming from the phone “What do you mean she’s gone?” Gil sucks in a breath. Gone could mean too many things. “It’s ok. Is her phone still there?” He waits with a fearful beat. “That’s good. She might have left on her own. I’m going to go see if I can track her phone. Have Dani drive you here and we’ll find her ok?”

Malcolm hangs up and he looks ready to throw something. It’s Edrisa who slips the phone out of his hand before he decides to do just that. He clenches his hand taking a deep breath before speaking.

“My mother is gone.”

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Jessica’s eyes open to the sound of her phone chiming followed shortly by the sound of the front door shutting. From the light pouring into the bedroom she would guess its at least the afternoon. Sleeping in Gil’s bed made it easier to chase away the nightmares and if she did wake up his presence was enough to soothe her. Listening to his slow breathing lulled her back to sleep eventually, too exhausted for another nightmare.

She picks up her phone, squinting as the light hits her face.

Work emergency. Will be back soon, order takeout and have them give it to George.

So it was Ainsley she heard leaving. She sits up carefully pulling her hair up out of her face. Her phone chimes again

And don’t leave!!

She bites her tongue staring at her bags in the corner of the room. Gil and Malcolm carried all that she’d need for the stay for at least a week. The memories of last night hang over her head precariously, like a rope ready to snap.

She takes her medicine with the glass of water on the nightstand.

Her eyes fall on the shirt from last night. Gil had her change when they arrived and, truthfully, it helped her feel lighter. Yet the note in the pocket still weighs on the back of her mind. There was only one possible way he’d know how she took her tea. It was such a small detail even Malcolm, at his age, wouldn’t remember much less Ainsley. She’d stopped drinking tea for a while after his arrest. It took her years before she found a blend she liked again.

Nobody should know that.

And yet.

Jessica rubs her eyes, dread threatening to push her down into the covers where it was safe and warm again. The thoughts taste foul as she files through. She needs to go see Martin, he’s the only one with the answers. If Gil knew there would be no chance he’d let her go anywhere near Claremont, for perfectly good reasons. Hell, if Malcolm and Ainsley knew they wouldn’t let her out of her sight. Ainsley will only be gone for a short bit, if her texts are accurate.

Now is her only chance.

Getting dressed takes slower than she’s happy with. The pull makes her breath catch in her throat more than a few times. She eyes the wheelchair next to the bed for a moment. She knows the doctor’s order, but around Martin showing weakness at all is a loss. It gives him control of the conversation.

Giving him any sort of control is the last thing she wanted.

She gathers herself, dressed as she normally would. She uses makeup to cover what she can. However some of the scrapes are still so sore that she doesn’t bother. She grabs the note, giving herself a few beats to change her mind and stay. Finally, when she deems herself ready she sweeps out into the living room, opening the front door doing her best annoyed mother tone.

Her eyes settle on the officer patrolling, ready to put on the performance of her life. “Will you drive me to Claremont? My son insists that I shouldn’t be left alone and he’s visiting his father.”

“Sure thing Mrs. Whitly.” The officer, George, grins at her.

“Wonderful.”

The ride there is silent. She practices what she will say in her head over and over. Not that any amount of practice will prepare her to speak to Martin again. It only gets worse as she’s escorted through the halls. She can feel his presence long before she reaches his cell; it’s choking, a cavern that threatens to swallow her and her entire family whole.

“Jessica!” He gasps as she steps in, like he hadn’t known she’d be coming. The shock doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mr. David didn’t mention you’d be visiting today. I’ve got to say, you’ve looked better.” He gestures vaguely, talking about the scratches on her that she couldn’t cover with makeup. She’s just thankful that she could cover the bruises. “I thought for sure that our children, Malcolm especially, would have you on lockdown. Though, I suppose that never stopped you before.”

She bites the remark that’s on the tip of her tongue. If she wants answers she’ll have to appeal to him. “Malcolm is on the case, Ainsley had some kind work emergency and had to leave.”

He tuts, tilting his head. “Sneaking out? Giving them a taste of their own medicine, huh?” He straightens, narrowing his eyes oh so slightly. “Now don’t tell me you visited just to chat. Not that I’m complaining but come on, I would have put on my good cardigan.”

“No.” He purses his lips at her rejection, but doesn’t interrupt. “Last night there was a body in the kitchen-”

“Someone broke into our home?” My home. She aches for the rebuttal but the answers are too important and she doesn’t have enough time before Ainsley realizes she isn’t there. She will text Malcolm and he’ll no doubt pull every resource he has to find her here, of all places. So she sets her jaw.

“There was a note on my nightstand when I woke up next to a cup of tea that said, just how you like it.” His brows furrow before an understanding washes over him. She thinks, just for a moment.

“Classic stalker behavior.” He shrugs. “Who knows how long he’s been watching you.” She swallows, the thought making her heart freeze. His aloof behavior is betrayed by the years of visits between him and their son. He knows. “And where was the Lieutenant?”

The question scratches her world to a deadly halt. All of the anger at what had happened; the days she was trapped, the injustice of Freddy’s death, her family being threatened. All of it topples over with the words he meant as a knife to her most cherished relationship other than her children.

“Wouldn’t he be there to protect you?”

“Malcolm was.” Darkness washes over him and she watches all the fake humanity drain from his eyes. Barely contained rage makes the room feel colder. She doesn’t allow herself the step backwards that would make her feel more comfortable. “Malcolm was asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.”

“Malcolm was there?”

“Of course he was there! You know Malcolm! He wouldn’t fucking leave let alone sleep in a different room!” She lets out a shuddering breath. “He wouldn’t- he can’t-” Her words jumble and anger is making her shake painfully. Her core aches and she is almost certain if she doesn’t calm down she’ll accidentally pull stitches. “He was in my home. He was in the goddamn kitchen. He was in my room where we were sleeping!” Martin tilts his head, it’s the disapproving tilt. One that she’s seen hundreds of times when a curse slipped out in front of Malcolm or Ainsley when they were so young. He always hated when she cussed. “Malcolm, god he was so tired he didn’t even stir when I woke up.” She can feel the tears coming down but she’s hopeless to stop them now. She’s in an absolute spiral. “God knows how long he was there. How many times he walked past Malcolm. It could’ve been Malcolm.”

The last words are an almost incoherent sob. She had come here, every intention of holding her ground. And here she is having a fucking panic attack in front of her serial killer ex husband. A bitter laugh escapes her.

“It could’ve been Malcolm.” She repeats. “And every time I remember I don’t see that poor boy’s face. I see Malcolm’s. Our son.”

A hand reaches out stroking the tears from her cheek. It takes her far too long to connect the touch to Martin. “Jessie-”

She rips herself away the second her mind connects the dots. The sudden movement causes a new wave of pain. She curses again leaning against the furthest wall to regain her self control. “Stop!” She shouts, getting the attention of Mr. David. “Stop acting like you fucking care.” It hurts too much. She feels like she’s going to stop breathing at any second. When he looks at her with that much sympathy it’s too much. It reminds her of being hunched in the bathroom, morning sickness taking a toll on her. He stayed with her, holding her hair. That sympathy is not only fake, it’s toxic. Another way to gain control.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She snaps. “You know. You know who it is and you let us be hurt by him. What did you do Martin? What the fuck did you do?” The room holds impossibly still for what feels like an eternity. He heaves a sigh, defeated.

“Lieutenant Arroyo wasn’t the first to catch me.” The words stop her in her tracks. She watches him warily, not trusting a single word he says. “I never met him, but I received a call, a year or two before.” Her stomach sinks, the year or two before was when she’d noticed his growing absence. “He had connected me to a missing woman, able to pin me at her last seen location.” She swallows, realizing he isn’t moving. No shifting head, wild gesturing movements. It’s the truth. “He wanted money.”

“Oh god.”

“I told you I was funding a project at the hospital. Every month I would send him money for his silence.” She holds her breath. “When I got arrested the money stopped, but the calls didn’t.”

“What.”

“He would threaten Malcolm and Ainsley. He was a belligerent drunk. From what I could gather after he lost that money he lost everything, wife divorced him and took the kids. He drank to forget.” He twists his shoulders back, fixing his posture. “I helped him again. Got him into rehab. From what I could tell, he got his life back together.”

“And became a serial killer.”

“Well not all of us can be perfect, Jessie.” He continues with a shrug, “Never got the wife back but found his faith in religion. Not to keen on it myself but to each their own.”

“Where is he now?”

“From last I heard? He got his job back.”

Just like that the world stops spinning. Her pain makes way for horrific clarity. The black clothes with the covered badges. Malcolm and Gil’s frustration over his ability to get in and out of the park despite there being patrols all over the city. How he got into her home without alerting anyone. “He’s a cop.”

“Yes.”

Anxiety clamps down on her stomach. The man has been right there all along. None of them had even suspected. Hell, it could’ve been the man that drove her here. She suddenly, ironically feels herself not wanting to leave. She can’t seem to move. Her feet feel too heavy. Her mind and body aching from overexertion. 

“Jessica?” She hears Martin call to her but she feels too far away to respond. Only the wall behind her is holding her up. “Jessie.” The annoyance laced in his tone exacerbated as she hears the door to the hallway slide open. “Jess!” Panic.

The door opens beside her and Malcolm and Ainsley step in, looking equally alarmed and agitated. Their eyes fall on her, and she sees the color strip from their faces. Malcolm is on her in a second, hands holding her up by her elbows. She must look too pale because he looks like he’s ready for her to faint.

Ainsley, on the other hand, whips around to Martin, eyes accusatory. “What the fuck did you do to her?” She should stop her, a part of her thinks. Yet she still doesn’t move. It’s Mr. David who grabs Ainsley by the middle pulling her back over the red line towards safety. Whether it’s her own or Martin’s she’s not entirely sure.

“Mom. Hey, mom. Look at me.” She does. “We gotta go. Ok?” No, they can’t. It’s not safe. How did they get here? “Gil’s waiting outside. They wouldn’t let him in, but he’s going to take us back.” She relaxes a little. She needs to warn them about the cop. She needs to. But she feels lightheaded and her heels are far too unstable. “I got you, it’s ok.” And he smiles, that gentle smile when he swears that everything will be alright. “Ains, come on.”

She’s braced on both sides by her kids as she walks out with Martin shouting behind them.

#prodigal son #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gilssica #gilica #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #martin whitly #malcolm bright #Ainsley Whitly #honestly is it me writing if ainsley doesn't try to fight someone #she's small and she's angry #prodigal son AU #kidnapped au #notgonnarememberthis fics #find your way (back to me) #find your way (back to me) chapter 10 #holy fuck this is longer than i thought it would've been #jessica x gil #fanfic #ainsley and jessica parallel? #chef's kiss

[notgonnarememberthis]

Standing on a Parapet

Had a breakdown. Wrote this. Bon appetite.

Jessica chokes on a breath as she slams the door behind her. She leans back against it, safely in her room once again. She stares up at the ceiling trying to blink away the tears and clear her vision again. All her clothes feel much too tight as she runs a hand over her chest trying to will the pain in it away. It works, but only momentarily.

She strips herself of the necklace that feels too heavy, and her rings that constrict her fingers and bump clumsily when she runs her hands through her hair. They clang and clack as she tosses them into the jewelry box on her vanity, not making eye contact with the mess that she is in the mirror. She clutches the wood resisting the urge to push it all over. That would surely gain more attention than she wanted right now.

She should call Gil.

She can’t.

She made sure of that.

She leans forward on her elbows rocking and pinching the bridge of her nose. She can’t cry. She can’t fucking cry. And she looks at herself. God help her, she looks like a god damn wreck. Her eyes are red rimmed, her straightened hair is loose, falling in tendrils around her face and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

She hasn’t. Not well.

Ainsley staying was a relief. Of course it was. She fills the home with dancing, twirling on the smooth floors in her socks, mimicking moves from when she used to ice skate. Her voice would light up the halls, singing (sometimes drunkenly) all of the hits from when she was a teen: Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls.

God, she never thought she’d be so happy to hear Complicated ever again.

But there were moments, god help her there were moments.

“No, you don’t understand Thomas.” Her words were spitting. “If we don’t get those passes ABC7 will get there first and it won’t be my head Jodie will be looking for.”

She had been on the phone, probably talking to some poor partner or whatever they’re called. Jessica had been bringing her tea. The tone, her words. Jessica felt like she was walking back twenty years. All down to the way she hung up, fire in her eyes until she found her mother standing there. How immediately they went soft.

Jessica almost broke right there.

The drawer slides open noisily and she whips out the bottle inside. It was the strongest bourbon she had. Saved for her wedding anniversary, Martin’s birthday, and the day Eve died. She popped the tab drinking straight from the bottle, pretending the burn would take the memories with it. Her eyes fall on the bottom of the drawer. A piece of cardstock staring back up at her.

She collapses in the chair grabbing the picture.

The photo had been supposed to go with the rest. That Christmas had something special about it, she couldn’t remember what. But Malcolm had bounced on top of her, excited chanting with Ainsley in quick tow on Martin’s side. Her son had torn open the wrapping paper so excitedly. His eyes lit up with the advanced medical texts.

“Now these are technically for college students but I think you can handle them.” Martin had said with a wink. Ainsley opened a litter of dresses and a microphone that she sang into for hours on end. She squealed with delight at every single thing she found beautiful. “She’s just like you.” He whispered in her ear.

God, was he wrong.

They had posed for a picture by the tree. Ainsley and Malcolm wearing matching sets of pajamas and their smiles brighter than she remembers them ever being.

It was their last happy memory.

Now it is singed, the photo had been dumped with the others into the billowing flames. But it just landed closest to her. Martin’s face now a burned hole, and the rest of them blissfully untouched. She had stupidly reached into the flames, plucking it out and stamping out the sides that were beginning to catch. Her finger tips were burnt, she told Gil when he inspected her bandaged hand that she was making Ainsley lunch.

He didn’t believe her.

The burn isn’t nearly enough anymore. Her tears flow freely and she sits back, cursing her own reflection. She’d spent so long telling Malcolm he wasn’t his father. Saving him from that trauma, from the words that he flinched with when teachers, reporters, hell his own father tried to ingrain in him.

He looked so much lighter when he finally changed his name.

How could she compare Ainsley to him.

What kind of mother is she?

The thought makes her shut her eyes tightly. Her cheeks on fire from the alcohol and her holding her breath trying to suppress the loud sobs that desperately want out. Ainsley isn’t far, she reminds herself. She could hear it if she was quiet enough. So she hiccups, rage and guilt flowing constrained through her veins.

There were always whispers about how she was broken. Looking at the woman in the mirror it feels like shattered is a more appropriate word. Like a doll that had been dropped so many times that there are pieces missing, a glance into the hollow bones that lie inside. Ones she fills with anything that will keep her busy.

Ainsley stopped singing as much since she went back to work. Even when she does the words are haunting, an omen. More than once she caught her singing a lullaby that Jessica doesn’t recognize. It’s absentminded, like she doesn’t know the song, only the words spilling from her subconscious as she wanders the halls.

They feel like a threat.

She should call Gil, he would know what to do.

Her fingers linger on the speed dial. Gil would comfort her. There would be a disapproving look when he saw her choice of drink but he would stay. His heart would be a beat that soothes her worries.

She can’t.

But she needs to know. Her fingers dial the number automatically.

“Claremont Psychiatric, this is Henry, how can I help?”

Hope y’all enjoyed that!! I want to be explicitly clear this is not a fic for shipping Jessica with Martin. She’s seeking out answers rather than addressing her own emotions, which is something I firmly believed she would do in canon. Meanwhile if she called Gil she would have to be admitting that something is wrong.

BUT story and beginning joke aside, I am doing better than when I wrote this. I’ve been hella overwhelmed bc I am about to move again and it’s harder than it’s ever been and super fucking sad if I’m being honest. But I’m working through the emotions with friends. Just had to write this to make myself feel a little less heavy. Didn’t work, but I got some of that bad energy out.

#prodigal son #prodigal son spoilers #jessica whitly #ainsley whitly #martin whitly #gil arroyo #prodigal son season 2 #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter fifteen

Finally, here we are! I’m so sorry that I left y’all on a cliffhanger for such a long time but I needed to be in the proper mood to capture the tone of the last scene in this chapter. All we have left after this is the epilogue!! Hope y’all enjoy!

Malcolm doesn’t remember the last time a gunshot was so loud. It takes away all of the sound in the room like a vacuum had opened up in the center stealing one of his most vital senses. Only his own screaming remained, raw and bloody from the pieces of his heart still left in his chest. He can taste the copper through the cloth where the blood had sprayed his face.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Not when he knows what he will see. His mother will be lying on the cement, too still. All of the color he has in his life fading with her skin tone. Bright and lively eyes will stare blankly up at the sheets of metal, denied the last opportunity to see the sky that she loves so dearly. The one person who refused to leave his side even when he was ungrateful ripped away violently. All she ever wanted was for them to be happy, she pushed herself to make sure they were.

Oh god, how will he tell Ainsley.

His shoulders wrack with sobs and he rocks back and forth trying to gather the little control he has left to open his eyes and face reality. 

Someone grabs him by the shoulders roughly and every ounce of anger explodes out of him. He thrashes around using every part of his body that isn’t tethered to the chair to knock the person off their balance. It works and he hears the person crash but they’re immediately replaced by another.

This one wraps their arms around him, a hand holding the back of his neck with manicured nails digging into his skin. The grip forces his head into a shoulder where his face is buried into a smooth silk blouse. But it’s the smell that makes him stop moving, bourbon and vanilla permeates his senses and dissipates his anger.

He pulls back, eyes wide and searching for answers.

Blue eyes stare back at him, red rimmed but smiling. A relieved laugh escapes her lips while she pulls the fabric from his mouth.

“Mom?” He whispers, his voice breaking.

He takes in the scene fully, Dr. Garcia is still slumped in her chair but she’s stirring clearly still alive but not entirely aware yet. The person he knocked to the ground was Dani, a pocket knife in hand looking a little winded after being headbutted in the stomach. The killer is on the ground, a hole in the middle of his forehead likely dead before he even hit the ground.

He has so many questions. Where did Dani come from? How did she know the perfect time? Did they plan this? Where is everyone else?

Those questions matter so little once his arms and legs are free.

He crashes into his mom, arms wrapping around her stomach so he can bury his face in her hair. Every image that flashed through his mind haunts him as he tightens his grip on her. He almost pulls away when she groans in pain, remembering it had not nearly been long enough into her recovery for him to be holding her so tight.

However, her arms wrap around him too, keeping him just as close to her chest. Her fingers brush through his hair, her voice a comforting whisper in his ear as he breaks down in sobs.

For all he knows she could be a figment of his broken psyche. The last piece of straw that breaks the camel’s back taking what’s left of his sanity with her. He breathes the scent in, his own hands gripping the back of her shirt. If he lets go she will disappear, just another body in a morgue. Just another life taken by a killer.

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The scene Gil walks in on is heartbreaking.

His gun was still drawn as he followed the screams. When they stopped he feared the worst. He rounds the corner on the scene that stops him in his tracks.

Malcolm clings to Jessica, both of them standing grasping the other as if they are the last connection to this world. They don’t even notice the new presence in the room. Too busy assuring themselves that they are, in fact, still alive.

It’s Dani who sees him first, checking in on Dr. Garcia who was slowly coming to before coming over to him. Her face gives away everything, her panic that had been building since she got off the phone with him to the relief that she got him in time. She opens her mouth, ready to deliver the report of what happened to him in detail.

He doesn’t let her.

Gil grabs her wrapping Dani in a hug around her shoulders and letting out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding for the entire drive. If it weren’t for her, god he doesn’t even want to begin to think what would have happened to his family. If Jess had died, it would have destroyed them all. Malcolm, already fractured by his father, would be gone. Ainsley just starting to put her life back together again, stuck wandering from room to room searching for someone who isn’t there. He would lose her all over again with no chance of repair this time.

“Thank you.” He whispers to her. “Thank you for saving my family.” She swallows with a short, glassy eyed nod.

Jess must have heard him because he meets her eyes next. The moment is oddly familiar, one where they passed a look over Malcolm who was so much smaller back then. The memory feels so far as he stares at them. He’d wanted to go to them, all that time ago. Wrap the both of them tightly and protect them from every danger. Ainsley had been so small, she hardly knew the weight the two of them carried on their shoulders.

He doesn’t wait for her extended hand this time. Not when he could have lost them both in one fell swoop. He wraps his arms around them both, Malcolm startling for a second at the new presence before he settles again. Only Ainsley is missing from the embrace, no doubt once the scene is secure or once they’re all safely away she will join. 

Jessica’s hand comes to rest on his own over Malcolm’s back and he presses a kiss to her hair. Thankful that the nightmare is finally over.

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Standing over a grave has always been a wretched experience for Jessica. When she lost her parents in the wreck shortly after Malcolm was born, after the 23 women were killed, after Eve. Her hatred of death loomed in her very presence.

Still she attended every funeral. She funded every single one without a single moment of hesitation. Tommy Moore and Andrew Rankin’s were on the same day. She nearly wept with relief when she met the little boy named Michael. The parents informed her that Michael had been found playing on the swings by a police officer and picked up by his mother shortly after. Adolpho’s funeral was a private affair. Only his family and her own in attendance but it was nice. It felt fitting for him.

Freddy’s was the worst, she thinks as she stares at his headstone. She had been blocked in on either side by Malcolm and Ainsley, their hands holding tightly onto her own. Dr. Garcia’s eulogy for her son was short. Broken up with sobs and moments to gather herself. She wishes, painfully, about how it should’ve been her but Gil’s hand on her shoulder stops those thoughts.

“It’s not your fault.” She startles at the voice she hadn’t heard approaching. The woman who had been plaguing her thoughts is standing on her right. The doctor’s eyes are red rimmed, tears have been shed by nearly everyone in attendance that day but especially them. “Your son told me what you did trying to save Freddy.”

“Malcolm tends to exaggerate to protect others.” She laments.

“I don’t think so.” The entire time her eyes remain ahead, never looking at Jessica. “I read about you, you know. After the surgeon got arrested. How many of those families did you take care of?” She doesn’t know how to answer that question. “And your daughter told me that you already plan on setting up a school fund for the grandson of the second victim.” Jessica shakes her head, of course her children did that. They’re both such meddlers. “You didn’t do this to him.”

“I left him behind.”

“You went to get help.” Dr. Garcia argues and Jessica’s jaw snaps shut. “Any longer in there and your infection would have spread. You can’t argue with that, I was your doctor.” She sighs in defeat at that claim. “You tried to save my son. You’re a hero.”

“Your son was the hero. He cut up his shirt to tend to my injuries. He would’ve been a great doctor. You should be proud.”

The woman’s eyes get glassy at that. Her gaze casts over to another figure staring at them. “That’s his girlfriend. I’m sorry if she says anything angry to you. Freddy was all she had.”

“That’s not true.” Jessica swallows, grabbing the other woman’s hand. “She has you.”

“I don’t know if she’ll let me take her in.”

“Give her time.” Jessica looks to her own children talking with Gil. “They come around.” Dr. Garcia smiles, a sad one that is too reminiscent of a goodbye. Her heart aches for the woman that had to outlive her child. She would do anything to make sure that Malcolm and Ainsley would live long and happy lives.

“His father will take care of him. At least until I can see them again.” Jessica’s eyes fall on the grave beside Freddy’s. Her throat closes again with the familiar panic. “Please, don’t let this man tear you apart more than he already has. That monster can’t hurt them now. He can’t hurt you now.”

Tears slide unwillingly down her cheeks as she nods.

Jessica hopes she’s right.

#prodigal son #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #jessica x gil #gilica #gilssica #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #Ainsley Whitly #dani powell #prodigal son AU #kidnapped au #notgonnarememberthis fics #find your way (back to me) #find your way (back to me) chapter 15 #fanfic #em hasn't read this one #liv has no impulse control #elena made me do it

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt 5

Surprise!!! Through encouragement of friends I’ve decided to release one chapter a day to finish this story off the day before prodigal son returns! So the next one will be the plus one coming out tomorrow and a bonus chapter coming Monday. Hope y’all like this one! 

The knock is soft and hesitant, Gil almost misses it while he’s combing over files. He checks the time with a huff, he should probably get dinner soon anyways. Maybe he’ll roll by Malcolm’s and make sure he’s eating, knowing all too well that he’s throwing himself into this case just as hard, if not more, than he is.

He stretches himself out before walking to the door, mindful of Icarus who has half the mind to trot beside him to try to dart out the door if he opens it too wide. He opens it slowly, foot placed in front of the ginger cat to keep it back.

Jessica stands in front of the door, a bag in one hand and a drink tray balanced on the other. She sucks in a breath and he can see her carefully planned speech falling apart. This was the first time he’s seen her since that day in the station, when she admitted she was talking to Martin again. When he offered to be her ear again. She swallows heavily only able to get out, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” He nods. “Of course.” He steps aside letting her slip by with ease. She smiles down at Icarus who takes the opportunity to rub along her legs. He knows if she hadn’t had her hands full, she’d be scratching his head right now. “Is that?”

“Mel’s diner, yes it is. I got the cherry pie too.”

“How’d you know, I was just about to make dinner.”

“You and Malcolm have remarkably similar eating habits. Meaning it’ll be the last thing on either of your agendas until either a case is finished or someone snaps you out of it.” She settles everything on the table, pulling the food out of the bag with an almost robotic motion. He recognizes it, her mind and body has flipped into pure survival mode. She’s able to mask it when talking but her body language gives it away.

He sits on the couch next to her, eyes trained on her face the entire time. “Jess?”

She tenses, her eyes closing as she’s found out so quickly. Her posture deflates and she drops her head into her hand. “Please.” Her voice comes out more tired.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” She tries to hold him at arm's length, instead focused on her food but he takes her hand in his. She may not have come with the vintage bourbon like usual but he can see through it all. Mel’s is her comfort food. After a rough day, they’d bring Malcolm and Ainsley there, enjoy the atmosphere of anonymity. The noise of the customers was always enough to drown out her own demons. He’s more than able to see through it all. 

“Talk to me.” He says, his voice soft as he runs his thumb along the back of her hand.

She sighs, tipping her head back. Her jaw clenches, emotions bubbling to the surface that she forces back down again. “I’m writing a memoir.” She doesn’t look back at him, she knows what his reaction will be, or she thinks she does.

“A memoir?” His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “You said you’d never give in. That they could say whatever they wanted but they wouldn’t get a word from you. What changed?” She sighs, in the way she did any time they were brought up. “Birdie.” He nods in understanding.

“She’s been cut off. She’s emptied all her assets and she came to me… to publish her own book.”

“Why not just pay her off?” She’d done it before. Paid reporters, journalists, and other nosey bastards for her family’s privacy. She paid good money so that it was never leaked that Malcolm had changed his name. As far as the public knew Malcolm Whitly had faded into obscurity. 

“They were going to publish with or without her. Another author would take helm. We’d be exposed. I checked the information and it’s true. The publishing company is desperate. They’d already been looking for a writer who would take the chance for years.” No doubt, any writer who stepped up that would risk Jessica Whitly’s wrath would be one without good intentions. The book would be a slander on her family. No amount of burying the story would protect her, Malcolm, or Ainsley from that blowback. And Martin would revel in that chaos.

“So you’re taking the reins.”

“I don’t have a choice.” He wants to argue with her. That there’s always another choice but here, he finds it difficult. With Jessica writing it she’s telling her story, It’s not going to be tampered with by a second party. When it hits the shelf she’ll only do interviews with people Ainsley trusts, no Barbara Walters situation ever again. No second hand writers will hound Malcolm or Ainsley for their comments, knocking down boundaries that her kids aren’t even aware exist most of the time. It’s not about them. It’s about controlling the narrative.

The words feel awfully familiar. “Do Malcolm or Ainsley know?” She doesn’t even need to answer by the look that passes over her face, fond exasperation with some worry. 

“No, and I intend on keeping it that way for a while.”

“Jess.”

“Ainsley will just talk about how this is a good thing. She’s always excited about stories. Having them read mine is,” She lets out a bitter laugh. There were aspects of the aftermath that she kept from them. How it tore her apart more than she would ever admit. It was only recently that Ainsley got a peek past the incredible intricate persona Jessica put on for others. “Then Malcolm, he won’t like it at all. He’ll worry. He has enough on his plate right now. I’m not going to pull either of them into this if I can help it.”

“They will find out eventually.”

“I’ll keep it a secret as long as I can. I would appreciate it if you would too.”

“I won’t tell. But I think you should.”

“Not,” She shakes her head and he can see she’s trying to blink away tears. “Not yet.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there.”

Jessica laughs but nods, “The publisher pitched a name today. He wants to call it The One Who Survived. Bullshit, if you ask me.”

“Jess,” He moves to place a hand on her shoulder but she stands, anger flaring up with the movement.

“Why does it always go back to him?” She asks, he’s not sure if she’s looking for an answer but she continues before he can make a sound. “I raised two children. Both of which were stellar students. My son went to Harvard, worked with the FBI. My daughter is a critically acclaimed journalist and a newscaster.” She rakes both hands through her hair pacing across the living room. Atlas watches from a perch, his tail flicking with interest. “I have contributed to hundreds of foundations, I am a businesswoman. Why, why am I only the ex-wife?”

Gil steps up, his hands settling on her shoulders. She stops her rant, eyes falling on him in the same shocked and vulnerable gaze when he holds her. They haven’t been this close since… He pushes that to the back of his mind. “This is your memoir Jess. Not theirs. You’ve got the control here. Use it.”

“But-”

“But what? They’ve been asking for 20 years and you’re finally giving them what they asked for. It’s your story.”

“Where do I even start?” 

“Wherever feels right.” She lets out a slow breath and for a moment they stay like that. Standing in the remains of a connection that never dies. Her movement is slow, when she finally does, making sure that he stops her if he wants to. Her arms wrap around his torso and she tucks her head into his chest. He returns the hug, holding her close with his chin resting on top of her head.

“Thank you Gil.” She mumbles into his shirt. He runs a hand down her back in a comforting gesture. Having her this close makes his heart race and he’s certain she can hear it too. They’ve missed out on so much time. But for now he’s just happy to have her back again.

“Always.” He whispers, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

#prodigal son #gilica #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #take some fluff #before more angst tomorrow #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #prodigal son AU #today (of all days) pt 5 #today (of all days) part 5

[notgonnarememberthis]

Through the Valley - Chapter One

IT’S FINALLY HERE. The long awaited murder family au that I promised back in February is finally in motion. This chapter takes place seven months after Jessica killed Endicott and from here we’re completely throwing out the canon arc of season 2. This is the direct response to my first fic of the series Playtime’s Over, which acts as a prologue to this AU. I will be linking that just below. I hope y’all enjoy this first chapter and I’m so excited to jump into this new story with y’all.

Playtime’s Over

It’s been seven months since Endicott died, since Jessica killed him. She thought it was over. She knows it isn’t.

It had been seven months. Seven months since Gil was stabbed, seven months since her family was irreparably torn to shreds, seven months since Nicolas Endicott died.

Since Jessica killed him.

Her life settles back into normal with far too much ease. She takes the role as Gil’s caretaker, nursing him back from his injury. He stays with her longer than either of them expected. Ainsley moves back in after the incident. If she suspects anything, she doesn’t tip her hand.

Jessica taught her far too well to give away information too carelessly.

Malcolm, however.

He’s absolutely beside himself. The longer time stretches, the longer they go without hearing from a dead man. The more it hurts him. The more she hurts him.

She wonders when is the last time he had slept for more than 2 hour increments. He hasn’t sat down and had a proper meal with them since. She doubts he’s feeding himself properly. If hearing from Gil is any indication, he’s just as bad at work too. Falling asleep on the job, springing up in a terror, excessive use of his favorite phrase I’m fine.

Guilt gnaws at her stomach every time she looks at him.

She arrives at the hospital again, hours after. Eyes more vacant than when she left.

It changes the second Ainsley crashes into her arms. “Mom, thank god.” She returns the hug, squeezing her daughter close with all her might. Knowing she’s safe, that they both are safe. It almost loosens the tension in her chest. “Malcolm’s with Gil. He’s ok, surgery had some complications but it’ll just be a longer recovery. He’s going to make it.”

She lets out a breath, at least something is going right. Less so than Adolpho who’s cleaning the house as they speak. Ridding of the blood stained rug before any of them are the wiser. “Thank god.”

“What happened? I thought-” Her voice catches in her throat and Jessica pulls back. Sure enough Ainsley’s bottom lip quivers.

“I was not letting Nicolas Endicott take our family down. Certainly not me.” She strokes her chin with the best comforting grin she can muster. “I kept him busy long enough. I was trying to get authorities there but I couldn’t just reach for a phone.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He got away before I could. I actually believe I managed to scare him.”

Ainsley’s smile tells her enough. She believes the story. Malcolm will be a harder sell. “He’s running?”

“For now.”

“Good. We’ll be ready when he comes back.” She kisses Ainsley on the forehead, the weight of lying to her settling into her bones. He won’t be back. Not now. Not ever.

“Mom.” Malcolm’s voice cuts her spiraling thoughts. He’s wrapping his arms around the both of them before she can even turn to face him. She frees her arm from between them, looping it around his shoulders. She clutches the back of his coat holding both of her children close.

If she’d just been a second too late. If she’d have hesitated.

But she didn’t.

Malcolm breaks the embrace first. Eyes already ablaze with questions. “Where is Endicott?”

It only got worse. Constant questions forcing her to recall the night over and over. Dani, JT, hell even Gil had questioned her when he was finally cleared to return to duty again. All worried about the lingering threat, all more worried about Malcolm unraveling at the seams.

Her fingers hover over the phone. One call.

An anonymous tip. 

This could all be over with. She could end the agony after all this time.

One call.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The knock startles her. She’d been waiting for it, waiting for him. Yet, ever since Endicott she jumps at loud noises. She’s good at masking it, for others. When she’s alone it’s harder. She gets stuck into a whirlpool of thoughts and-

“Gil.” She smiles at him when she opens the door. “I didn’t know you were coming, I would have put on something nicer.”

“You look beautiful, Jess.” Her chest swells with the compliment. They put this on hold while he recovered. Despite the many times she’d helped him up, how many times she fell asleep beside him. They hadn’t moved past the first kiss. God she desperately wanted to move forwards.

“What brings you here unannounced?” She knows exactly why. She’s been waiting for the news to circulate.

“Have you watched Ainsley’s broadcast?”

“No?” She hadn’t. It hurt too much. She tried. Yet the second Ainsley’s face appeared, glee filled eyes and a dazzling smile, she clicked the television off.

She would be happy, Jessica thinks. Happy that the man who haunted her family for the past 7 months is dead. Finally found and free of the fear he carried in his grasp. “Jess,”

“Gil.” She takes a breath. “You found him, didn’t you?”

He nods in confirmation. Jessica wishes she could say she was faking her reaction, exaggerating it somehow. Yet the fear is too real, her relief that the secret is finally out is too real. “A camper called in skeletal remains at a clearing a couple of hours from here. We ran the dental records, they’re a match for Nicholas Endicott.”

“He’s dead.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. I wanted to get the news to you before you saw anything.”

“Thank you, Gil.” It hurts when he looks at her like she’s bound to shatter. His movements are careful when his hands settle on her shoulders. “How’s Malcolm?”

“He’s gonna be ok.” She smiles sadly. That’s not entirely true. They both know it. “He’s relieved. He can finally take a breath for the first time in months.” He won’t. He doesn’t know how to. Gil’s hands run down her arms until he is holding hers. His touch sends a shiver up her spine. “It’s over Jess.”

His words make her breath catch in her throat. For months she’d worried, she paced, sprung up from nightmares. He’d witnessed it all. He pulls her to him, his arms wrapping tightly around her and everything gives. Tears she didn’t know were there slid down her cheeks as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“It’s over.” He repeats, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him so badly that for her, it will never be over. The smell of smoke lingered on her with every passing breath. His unseeing eyes watched her in every reflection.

As her shoulders shake, Gil holds her tighter. As if trying desperately to hold her together.

And she thinks this could be enough.

#prodigal son #gilica #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #ainsley whitly #murder family AU #are we ignoring canon #yes #yes we are #fanfic #notgonnarememberthis fics #prodigal son AU #through the valley #through the valley chapter one #through the valley chapter 1

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt. 4

Yet another chapter is here! And once again this one proved to be a challenge. But the good thing is, I have the next 2 loaded up and ready! I might fuck around and post all of them before pson comes back Tuesday? We shall see. This one takes a 7 year jump, Jackie and Gil are together and well, just read and see what happens. Lemme know what yall think! Enjoy!!

Gil can hear the laughter before he even reaches the door. The mix of two women who he holds dear, together as he unlocks his front door. His suspicions are confirmed when he swings it open revealing Jackie and Jessica, laughing and talking on his couch.

“This is a surprise.” He muses, after the day he’s had he wouldn’t mind some time with the two of them.

“Gil!” Jessica beams, clearly already a little more than tipsy. “Come join us! Jackie was just showing me her ring!” For all that he worried when Jackie came into his life, how she’d react to him basically being a pseudo father to Jessica’s children. Hell, to Jessica’s lurking presence in his life even long after it didn’t work out for the two of them. The two of them got along like he never would have predicted.

He met his fiancee’s eyes past the woman and he watches how her gaze flashes to the table. Sitting on their coffee table is the same bottle of bourbon with the two nice glasses. She knows exactly what it means. Though, Jessica never did open up to anyone but him, Jess might not even know that Jackie knows what the bottle means.

He warned her a long time ago. Back when they first started dating that this might happen. Where Jessica didn’t know where else to turn to in a desperate situation without drowning herself to feel numb to everything. Jackie’s eyes say everything. The sad expression of knowing something bad had happened, yet knowing she was powerless to help.

“Oh?” He plays along for now. She won’t open up with Jackie here. He needs to pull her away somehow.

“I’m sure Ainsley helped pick it out?” He smiles, despite the pain hovering in the air. It’s true, he brought Ainsley along after she basically begged him to let her help. A young teenager now obsessed with the love he found in Jackie. It hurts to think she’s looking for the parental love she barely remembers before everything went to shit. But it was her who picked the ring, a simple but gorgeous one well in his price range.

“She may have.”

The moment did little to melt the tension in the air. “Oh, would you look at the time. Ainsley will be home from her aunt’s soon. I told her we’d watch a movie together tonight and I always keep my promises.” He watches her for a moment, his heart sinks when he realizes he can’t tell if she’s lying. He normally can always see past her guard.

“Thank you for the drink Jess.” Jackie smiles before pulling her into a hug. He watches as the touch affects her. Jessica’s spine straightens, her steps a little more composed, as if she’s avoiding stepping on the cracks in her facade. 

She doesn’t meet his eyes when she says goodbye to him, only a short polite hug and a tight voice before she slides quickly out the door.

“She showed up an hour ago. I tried to stall as much as I could but she was gonna leave if I didn’t start talking about anything but what was on her mind.” He watches as Jackie paces across the room in a panic. She’s seen Malcolm fall apart, but never Jessica. It shook him for days the first time he saw it too.

He makes it across the room to her in a few steps. “You did good.” He smiles placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Go catch her before she leaves. Please.”

“I will.” He gives Jackie a kiss before practically running down to catch Jessica. He finds her just as she was about to get in the car, Adolpho already ready to take her back home. “Jess!”

She freezes and he watches her pull herself together again. One hand slips up to wipe a tear before she turns back to him. “Gil, please don’t.”

“You came to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” She smiles and shakes her head. The one that holds the bitter sadness that others leave her behind with. Malcolm, Birdie, her own mother. All while she tries desperately to hold herself together.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“This! I can’t come running to you whenever I feel like I’m about to break. It’s not-”

“Jessica.” He walks over to her but she takes a step back from him too.

“Stop.” Her voice catches and he does. “You have a family now Gil.”

“I’ve always had a family.” He tries not to let his own emotions cloud his mind. “You, Malcolm, Ainsley.”

“Malcolm and Ainsley, yes. But not me.”

“What?”

“How is this fair?”

“Jessica, you’re not making sense.” She sighs blinking back the tears of frustration building.

“This? What we do? That is not fair to Jackie. And you two are engaged! You’re going to have a family of your own soon and I-”

“Jackie doesn’t care about that. She loves spending time with you and the kids.”

“You’re not listening to me.” She huffs.

“I am listening.”

“Gil it’s not fair to her that I still have feelings for you!” She turns, her shoulders shaking as the sobs finally release. “And it’s not fair to you either.”

“Jessica.”

She turns back to him, and he watches as her wall is built up. Brick by brick he watches as her eyes shut him away. “I came here to say goodbye.”

“Jess, please.”

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“Jessica I need-”

“Stop.” She knows what he was going to say. They’re the same words she almost said seven years ago. “I will come around still with Malcolm and Ainsley. But we can’t do this anymore. Not to Jackie. She’s a good person.”

“So are you.” She scoffs, like somehow that’s questionable. “We can still be friends.”

“Can we?” It feels like a question that’s impossible to answer. One loaded with all of their past lingering on both their shoulders. “That’s what I thought.”

“Jessica.” He tries to stop her but she climbs into the car. It’s too late. She’s made up her mind.

“Goodbye Gil.”

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #jackie arroyo #am i ignoring canon jackie #yes #what's good #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #prodigal son AU #today (of all days) pt 4 #today (of all days) part 4 #angst

[notgonnarememberthis]

Through the Valley - Chapter 3

Hello!!! So how are we feeling after that finale hm?? I couldn't help myself and threw this chapter together as soon as it ended. Sorry this update took so long! Between graduation and moving I've been super busy. But I am home now and hopefully I can get the next one out soon! Enjoy!!

The woman looks absolutely grief stricken. Almost unrecognizable from the socialite with the biting comebacks and haughty smile, with perfectly coiffed curls she loved to throw over her shoulder when she knew she landed a punch in a sensitive spot.

God she loathed this woman.

But this, this isn’t that woman.

Jessica pulls Cricket by the shoulders, being sure to avoid the crimson stain. It’s not hers, with that much on her she’d be unconscious if not dead. “Did anyone see you?” Her voice comes out thicker than she intends, though how the hell is she supposed to explain a bloody woman showing up at her door to Gil? Least of all when she knows nothing about the situation herself.

“What? No. No, I didn’t see anyone.” Jessica breathes a little easier then. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What happened?”

“Robert, he-”

“Robert?” She remembers her husband, but only in passing. The man liked to smoke cigars and drink with the men. The ones that were gruff and brutal and reminded her too much of her father that it often left a sour taste in her mouth when one would saunter over, pretending to be interested in anything but her money. Well, before Martin at least. She shakes his name out of her mind. “Is he hurt?”

“No!” Jessica bites her tongue at the growing frustration. “He-” And then it clicks for her. The wild, frightened look in her eyes. The desperation, begging to be told it wasn’t true, that this was just a dream. The shaking fingers, clutching to anything solid enough to hold her upright, that just happened to be Jessica’s blouse.

“Did he hurt someone?”

Cricket swallows but nods. “He didn’t, or I don’t think he knew I was home. There was supposed to be a gala. He was yelling. And the man he begged him- And then he shot him. He didn’t even stay to see if he- I tried to stop the bleeding. I tried.”

“Why did you come here? Why not go to the police?”

“Robert… He has this book. He’s always guarded it with everything he has. I thought it was a call book, god forbid. It had names, but not just women.”

“I’m confused.”

“He had Nicolas Endicott scratched out. I thought, maybe he was a business partner is all, but with what he had done coming all out now I thought-” She shakes her head. “And then I saw Martin Whitly. And I knew.”

“Martin?”

“His name was in the book. The names, I think they’re all killers.”

The thought sounds absurd at first, then she remembers John Watkins. His taunts of how long he’d known her son. How long this man, this killer, had been in their lives and she’d never even known. She thought he was some imaginary friend. He’d hardly be the only one. A network of killers.

All tied to Martin.

All tied to them.

She swallows the bile that builds in the back of her throat. “You can stay here tonight.”

“That’s it?”

“Hardly.” She huffs. “Go to the guest bedroom, second door on the left and take a shower. Throw your shirt in the trash. I’ll take care of it. I will bring you clothes, I should have something of Ainsley’s old clothes that would fit. I have some calls to make.” Once the woman’s off her hands hover over the call button. Her mind wracks for a few seconds. If she calls Gil, this could go horribly. That book would be destroyed long before the police could even touch it. All the names would be gone. Burned up with smoke.

Just like-

No. 

She dials a different number. “Hello, it’s Jessica Whitly. I need a favor.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica paces back and forth in the living room. Cricket’s eyes follow her with every anxious step. She should have gotten something, anything an hour ago. At least the news should have hit by now. All they needed was a tip of where the body was, a description of Robert Van de Camp being the last one at the scene. It would be enough for a warrant. Enough to find-

A pounding on the door makes her jump, that knock signifies one person. She shoves Cricket into the next room shutting the door behind her just as Malcolm strides in. “Mother, I have a question for you.”

“Good morning!” She mocks in a gruff tone, “Oh good morning to you too Sunshine, I do hope you slept well last night.” She throws her head to the side in the same evasive way she’s seen him do hundreds of times. “Oh, you know. Night terror here, waking up screaming there. The usual.” “Please tell me you’re talking about your night terrors to Gabrielle, she’s supposed to help you know.”

“Mother-”

“Mother-” They speak at the same time and she just tilts her head at him and he sighs with defeat.

“Good morning. Happy?”

“Quite. Now, what did you need?”

“Do you remember Robert Van de Camp?” Her hand slips on the glass she was cradling making it land with a loud clang, tipping precariously before she carefully balances it on the table again. 

“Sorry, slipped.” She clears her throat. “Yes, I remember him.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Did something happen?” Her eyes flutter to the door where Cricket is no doubt listening. She just hopes she has some sense and stays put. “What happened?”

“An employee of his turned up dead this morning. Van de Camp was the last one to see him alive.” Accurate, but wrong one. Relief floods her chest that the plan had gone well. All he needs now is a warrant. “We spoke to Cricket this morning and-”

Her head peaks up at that. “You spoke to Cricket?” Where the hell did the woman get a phone? She didn’t even see her carry it in.

“Yeah?” He shrugs off the outburst but continues. “She didn’t know anything. Claimed she was at a gala all night.” 

“The Johnson foundation?”

“I think. But it doesn’t matter, the others aren’t convinced he had anything to do with it. Even if he did, he’s completely fallen off the grid. There’s no call logs, no money trail, it’s like he fell off the earth.” 

“Well that’s not shocking in the slightest. Any bad press sends cowards running.” Malcolm rolls his eyes but she watches his lip twitch. Good, she’s keeping up appearances then. “Even if you find him, he’ll have the best lawyers in New York on his side. You’ll need more than my opinion on the man.”

“That’s why I was hoping you’d give me something more concrete.”

“I’m sorry, I only knew him in passing. He seemed like any other rich man. Cigars, cocaine, and younger women. That’s all I’ve heard him talk about.” Malcolm sighs.

“I just.” She watches as his hand shakes and she reaches for him, but he snatches himself away. “Sorry.” He winces recognizing the hurt in her expression before she can say anything. “I have a bad feeling about this. If we can’t get him quick-”

“You think he’ll get away with this?” Jessica leans against the bar cart, intentionally pushing a little too hard so it scrapes noisily against the floor. The sound covers up any potential noise coming from the other side of the door. A gasp, a sob. Anything small, Malcolm would pick it up. Thankfully he just nods in confirmation.

“I’m afraid so. I’m not going to let it happen though, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Malcolm. You can’t do anything rash. They’ll latch onto that in a trial and the entire case could fall apart. This needs to go completely by the book. No surprises.”

“Have you been hanging out with Gil lately?” It’s her turn to tilt her head disapprovingly. “Fine, no surprises. I’ll just have to pull some strings, call in some favors.”

“Be careful.” She grabs his hand squeezing it gently. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Thanks for the help.”

“Any time.”

She watches until he’s well out the door and waits even longer until after she is certain his cab has driven away before she opens the door where Cricket is. Her eyes are red rimmed and she looks disheveled, like she’d been panicking. 

“You need to get that book.”

#prodigal son #gilica #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #jessica whitly #another chapter down #murder family #murder family AU #prodigal son AU #through the valley #through the valley chapter 3 #through the valley chapter three #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic