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bu1410 · 1 month

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Good afternoon TUMBLR - April 23th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

Atyrau Kazakhstan – Dec 2004 – Oct 2010 - Kashagan Development Project

Part 2

RESIDENT PERMIT Two months had passed since my first entry into the country, and the day came for me and other Italian colleagues to undergo the procedures for obtaining residency and work permit in Kazakhstan. In this regard, we were summoned to a local analysis laboratory for blood sampling - a necessary condition to ascertain our health and therefore eligibility for the residence permit.

The place had the typical Soviet appearance: two-storey building, large windows, gardens of poor dying plants, peeling walls and the inevitable Eternit roof. So I, Franco Pennacchia, Carmelo Longo, Salvatore Sampirisi, Gallo Santino were present and it was Talgat who led us to the place. NUrse began to call and Franco was the first to go - than myself, Longo, then the nurse pronounced out loud:  GIORGIO BORCHIA! ………and to our utmost disbelief we saw Talgat - the driver! - go into the room to get blood sampled!! We looked at each other in amazement and after 3 seconds we all burst out laughing, giving each other a high five, while Talgat returned to sit next to us, with the sleeve of his shirt rolled up, and his hand pressing the cotton on his arm at the sampling point. I hate to think what would have happened if the result of Talgat's blood test had tested positive for some serious disease…….

VENEZIA HOTEL & RESTAURANT

Time passes, we work hard at the site, we have to watch out for the AGIP Client, the PETROFAC Supervision and the ruthless competition from the local Contractors (politically supported more than us) and from foreign ones like our competitor Bonatti. Every Saturday evening, with our colleagues, we used to have dinner at Venezia Hotel & Restaurant. The owner - Mr. Franco Mancinelli - is was the prototype of the Italian pictured in many Italian movies - a guy who had arrived in Atyrau years earlier as a air conditioning technician and then, having met a local woman, married her and settled in Atyrau (which for the record, until 1991 was known as Guriev, a name treacherously given to the city by the Russians). Mancinelli's wife, like many other Kazakh women had great initiative, invents a small bed and breakfast with an adjoining restaurant, and obviously they call it Marco Polo, given that the Atyrau was one of the city on the routes between China and Italy traveled by the great Venetian. It must be said that Kazakhstan, still a macho nation today, would fail in a short time if there weren't so many activities carried out by women. Who, until a few years ago, were employed in jobs that Western women would not even think to undertake. Such as industrial painter/industrial insulatior - or heavy duty equipment operator. In 2005, sensing the business wind brought by the numerous foreigners arriving in Atyrau, Mancinelli built a new hotel-restaurant near the Ural River. And it is there, in an Italian atmosphere and with that touch of ''Neapolitanism'' that never hurts (the pizza oven was hand decorated by a Russian artist could have been missing with the traditional view of the Gulf of Naples) that we used to spend Saturday evenings: ''acceptable'' Italian cuisine, Caspian sturgeons, occasionally excellent caviar. And then, once some bottles of wine been emptied, life anecdotes, choruses and songs from the most reviled repertoire of Italian restaurant music (with obvious excursions into the military-partisan past) Mancinelli used always to joins us, because in this way he easily manages to circumvent the control over his ''alcoholic'' side exercised by his wife.

NEW BRIDGE Atyrau is a city cut in two by the Ural River, which rises 2,000 km further North, in Russian territory, and then flows into the Caspian Sea, about 40 kilometers from the city. The Ural River also marks the ideal border between Europe and Asia. When we arrived in 2004, only two bridges connected the European and Asian sides of the city. With the progressive increase of city traffic, due to the increase in population following the start of the Kashagan project, the need arose to build a new bridge. It was decided to built it further North than the existing one, in order to reduce chaotic traffic in the city center. During a visit by representatives of the Kazakh central government, the allocation of a significant sum for the construction of the new bridge was established. Months passed, but there was no trace of the new bridge (or at least of the site for its construction). Then one day the news that the local government would never have expected: the President himself, in 4 months, would visit Atyrau, and on that occasion, among other things, he expected to inaugurate the new bridge !!! General panic among local administrators! A few days after the ''feral news'', preparations for the construction of the new bridge began on the two banks of the river - which in the point chosen for the new bridge measured approximately 60 meters wide. At the same time as the construction activities of the bridge began (which were naturally scheduled 24/7) the rumors of a mission to seek funds from the companies present in the municipal territory of Atirau became increasingly insistent. The day came when a delegation from the local administration visited our offices. Four individuals were part of it. The conversation started very distantly - people were trying to get the interlocutor out of tiredness, talking for hours about everything except the crux of the matter. Generally they start by asking about the family, how's Italy, so beautiful and so good at football. (Btw: Italy will win the 2006 World Cup). Then they inevitably move on to the Italian music and singers who are most loved in the former Soviet territories (and who we Italians hate most or who have almost all forgotten in Italy) such as Ricchi e Poveri, Pupo, Cristina D'Avena, Toto Cotugno. And then to give a sign of modernity, the brightest star: Eros Ramazzotti. In the end, when the topics are running out, and the eyelids become heavy (because naturally during the visit numbers of vodka glasses are to be drunk), the real topic of the visit is finally addressed:

The ''spontaneous financing of the construction of the bridge by your company! And here the scene becomes epic and comical at the same time: fearful of any hidden microphones that could record their voices (years of Russian domination do not pass in vain…) the negotiation is done in silence, with the help of a calculator . The other party writes the requested amount on the calculator and throws it across the table to the Director - who must appear shocked by the amount he reads, shake his head noticeably and then write on the calculator a figure at least 1/3 of the one requested. And then of course throw the calculator back across the table, so that the officials can horrify, smile, fill the room with NIET NIET NIEEEEEET…. - The pantomime continues for a quite a lot of time, with throws and relaunches of the calculator then at a certain point, when the parties find a meeting point, everyone gets up, takes glasses, a last round of vodka and big pats on the back sanction the agreement. The bridge was built in record time, and for the (tragic) record it cost the lives of 12 workers engaged in the work: the haste and the lack of safety measures led to the collapse of a span under construction, during a night shift. The rhetoric inherited from the Soviet Union did the rest, with the re-enactment of the day of the inauguration ''of our heroes who lost their lives to give the city its new bridge''.

PRESIDENT'S SITE VISIT

Two years after the start of work on the Kashagan project, the first visit of the President of Kazahstan, Nursultan Nazarbayev to the site was announced. At the time of the Soviet Union, Nazarbayev was considered Gorbachev's ''dolphin''. The one who, in the absence of the famous events of 25 December 1991 when Gorbachev resigned as president of the Soviet Union and declared the office abolished, and conferred all powers and the Soviet presidential archive to the President of Russia Boris Yeltsin. Finally, on December 26, 1991, the Supreme Soviet of the USSR formally dissolved the USSR. Well without these events Nazarbayev would have succeeded Gorbachev. On 16 December 1991, Kazakhstan unilaterally declare independence from the Soviet Union. We, as a mixed Kazakh-Italian JV, were tasked with preparing in a dignified manner to welcome of the Father of Kazahstan on the Karabotan construction site. After repeated meetings, it was decided to set up an area at the entrance to the plant under construction. This area will contain a Presidential stage, one for the VIPs admitted to the President's speech, a stage for the orchestra (which will perform the National anthem) a Yurt, the traditional tent of the Kazakh nomads, where the President he will sit and have a chai surrounded by a few close friends. In addition to all this, we also propose a specially created banner at the entrance to the square, with the words ''Welcome President Nazarbayev''. AGIP provides us with a local architect/artist, who will prepare the drawings of the stages and decorate them with the colors of Kazakhstan, the sky blue, the yellow of the rising sun. We got to work, and I must say that the result was beyond all expectations: the stages were beautiful, the yurt sumptuous, and then the day before the visit the banner also arrived, which we mounted on poles just before the esplanade where President Nazarbayev would arrive. On the morning of the visit we were ordered to be at the site by 6.00 am - after which, for security reasons, all the roads would be blocked by the army and police.

Only two of us were admitted to the ceremony, and therefore fully dressed (and with the new white helmet on our heads…) I and the Vice-President of the Kazakh Joint Venture Mr. Bolat headed towards the square. Unfortunately the weather was inclement, threatening rain, and a notable wind had picked up. We arrived at 9.00 and the security guard placed us in a group like soldiers, in 10 rows of 20 people each. And the long wait began….....which lasted until 11.45, when the procession of cars finally arrived. And where did the President's armored Mercedes stop? Right under the banner we had installed, which at that moment, pushed by the wind, was bobbing and flapping dangerously………. My thought at the moment: ''If the banner will detach from the poles and fall on Nazarbayev's Mercedes, I would be a dead man….'' Or at least I would disappear for a few years in one of the prisons in the Kazakh steppe. ……. Instead it held. Nonetheless, it started to rain, an insistent drizzle, and if on the one hand it got us wet, on the other it probably served to shorten the President's speech, known for being a talkative old man like almost all ex-Soviet hierarchs. After the National Anthem and speech, Nazarbayev went under the yurt, and then we ''mortal '' were given the opportunity to break ranks.

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brookstonalmanac · 8 months

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Events 9.14 (after 1940)

1940 – Ip massacre: The Hungarian Army, supported by local Hungarians, kill 158 Romanian civilians in Ip, Sălaj, a village in Northern Transylvania, an act of ethnic cleansing. 1943 – World War II: The Wehrmacht starts a three-day retaliatory operation targeting several Greek villages in the region of Viannos, whose death toll would eventually exceed 500 persons. 1944 – World War II: Maastricht becomes the first Dutch city to be liberated by allied forces. 1948 – The Indian Army captures the city of Aurangabad as part of Operation Polo. 1954 – In a top secret nuclear test, a Soviet Tu-4 bomber drops a 40 kiloton atomic weapon just north of Totskoye village. 1958 – The first two German post-war rockets, designed by the German engineer Ernst Mohr, reach the upper atmosphere. 1960 – The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) is founded. 1960 – Congo Crisis: Mobutu Sese Seko seizes power in a military coup, suspending parliament and the constitution. 1975 – The first American saint, Elizabeth Ann Seton, is canonized by Pope Paul VI. 1979 – Afghan leader Nur Muhammad Taraki is assassinated upon the order of Hafizullah Amin, who becomes the new General Secretary of the People's Democratic Party. 1982 – President-elect of Lebanon Bachir Gemayel is assassinated. 1984 – Joe Kittinger becomes the first person to fly a gas balloon alone across the Atlantic Ocean. 1985 – Penang Bridge, the longest bridge in Malaysia, connecting the island of Penang to the mainland, opens to traffic. 1989 – The Standard Gravure shooting where Joseph T. Wesbecker, a 47-year-old pressman, killed eight people and injured 12 people at his former workplace, Standard Gravure, before committing suicide. 1992 – The Constitutional Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina declares the breakaway Croatian Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia to be illegal. 1993 – Lufthansa Flight 2904, an Airbus A320, crashes into an embankment after overshooting the runway at Okęcie International Airport (now Warsaw Chopin Airport), killing two people. 1994 – The rest of the Major League Baseball season is canceled because of a strike. 1997 – Eighty-one killed as five bogies of the Ahmedabad–Howrah Express plunge into a river in Bilaspur district of Madhya Pradesh, India. 1998 – Telecommunications companies MCI Communications and WorldCom complete their $37 billion merger to form MCI WorldCom. 1999 – Kiribati, Nauru and Tonga join the United Nations. 2000 – Microsoft releases Windows Me. 2001 – Historic National Prayer Service held at Washington National Cathedral for victims of the September 11 attacks. A similar service is held in Canada on Parliament Hill, the largest vigil ever held in the nation's capital. 2002 – Total Linhas Aéreas Flight 5561 crashes near Paranapanema, Brazil, killing both pilots on board. 2003 – In a referendum, Estonia approves joining the European Union. 2003 – Bissau-Guinean President Kumba Ialá is ousted from power in a bloodless military coup led by General Veríssimo Correia Seabra. 2007 – Financial crisis of 2007–2008: The Northern Rock bank experiences the first bank run in the United Kingdom in 150 years. 2008 – Aeroflot Flight 821, a Boeing 737-500, crashes into a section of the Trans-Siberian Railway while on approach to Perm International Airport, in Perm, Russia, killing all 88 people on board. 2015 – The first observation of gravitational waves is made, announced by the LIGO and Virgo collaborations on 11 February 2016. 2019 – Yemen's Houthi rebels claim responsibility for an attack on Saudi Arabian oil facilities. 2022 – Death of Queen Elizabeth II: The Queen's coffin is taken from Buckingham Palace, placed on a gun carriage of The King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery and moved in a procession to Westminster Hall for her lying in state over the next four days with the queue of mourners stretching for miles along the River Thames.

#Events

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nebris · 1 year

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Operation Polo was the code name of the Hyderabad "police action" in September 1948,[9] by the newly independent Dominion of India against Hyderabad State.[10] It was a military operation in which the Indian Armed Forces invaded the Nizam-ruled princely state, annexing it into the Indian Union.[11]

At the time of Partition in 1947, the princely states of India, who in principle had self-government within their own territories, were subject to subsidiary alliances with the British, giving them control of their external relations. With the Indian Independence Act 1947, the British abandoned all such alliances, leaving the states with the option of opting for full independence.[12][13] However, by 1948 almost all had acceded to either India or Pakistan. One major exception was that of the wealthiest and most powerful principality, Hyderabad, where the Nizam, Mir Osman Ali Khan, Asaf Jah VII, a Muslim ruler who presided over a largely Hindu population, chose independence and hoped to maintain this with an irregular army.[14]: 224 The Nizam was also beset by the Telangana rebellion, which he was unable to subjugate.[14]: 224

In November 1947, Hyderabad signed a standstill agreement with the Dominion of India, continuing all previous arrangements except for the stationing of Indian troops in the state. Claiming that it feared the establishment of a Communist state in Hyderabad,[15][16] India invaded the state in September 1948, following a crippling economic blockade, and multiple attempts at destabilizing the state through railway disruptions, the bombing of government buildings, and raids on border villages.[17][18][3] Subsequently, the Nizam signed an instrument of accession, joining India.[19]

The operation led to massive violence on communal lines, at times perpetrated by the Indian Army.[20] The Sunderlal Committee, appointed by Indian prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru, concluded that between 30,000-40,000 people had died in total in the state, in a report which was not released until 2013.[6] Other responsible observers estimated the number of deaths to be 200,000 or higher.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annexation_of_Hyderabad

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klinemartin7 · 2 years

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

--------------------------------

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

--------------------------------

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

--------------------------------

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

--------------------------------

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

#SCPS #student council president sakura #haruno sakura #uchiha sasuke #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #team 7 #sasusaku #kakasaku #narusaku #fic!pseudolily #fic!pinkhairedlily

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lunarliza · 4 years

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 4: Oysters

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

Sure enough, JJ arrived at your house at seven o’clock sharp.

Your mom answered the door and let him in while you hung back in your room, finishing the last touches to your outfit. Granted, you got home late from the shack and only had twenty minutest to get ready.

You stuck on Sophia’s gold hoop earrings and sprayed a bottle of cheap lavender perfume you got during White Elephant one year.

“Alright,” you rasped, entering the living room in a white puff-sleeved sundress, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

You meant it. You wanted to be there and back as soon as humanly possible.

JJ stood from your couch. He did clean up well, you had to admit. His usual ripped cargo shorts and chopped-sleeve tanks were replaced with an ironed navy polo and khakis. You even noticed that he even brushed his hair for once.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see you out of a red bathing suit,” he greeted with a small smile, “You look really nice y/n.”

With his hand on the small of your back, he led you out the front door after you bid your parents goodbye.

“Where are we going again?” you asked as JJ clutched the steering wheel of his dad’s old truck. He originally tried to reach for your thigh when you first got in, but you swatted his hand away before he even got the chance.

“The Wreck,” he replied, turning up the rap song on the stereo to a deafening volume.

You let out an incredulous scoff. “Are you serious? Good luck getting a table at this time. It’ll be packed! It’s seven on a Friday night. We’ll be waiting at least two hours.”

JJ threw you a cocky smirk, still eyeing the road. “Don’t doubt me yet, princess, I have my ways.”

The two of you entered the packed restaurant, and you couldn’t contain the bewilderment that hung on your face. It was like walking into a herd of wild chickens. As soon as JJ swung open the door, people were on the verge of hurdling out the doorway.

“This is insane, JJ,” you gasped, stepping into the sea of grumbling hungry people, “Honestly, we can just try somewhere else.”

“Don’t worry,” he emphasized again, “I got it.”

Heaving through the mob, you finally made it to the hostess stand as you stood behind JJ. The man behind the podium crinkled his nose in disgust once he caught sight of your date. “You again.”

JJ flashed the man his usual shit-eating grin. “Kiara said she reserved a spot for me, for two,” he mentioned proudly.

Begrudgingly, the man yanked out two menus. “Yes, she did mention that one of her hooligan friends was coming in tonight,” he deepened his glare at the blonde, “This way.”

He motioned for the two of you to follow and led you to a hidden room just outside the kitchen with a small table set for two. The ruckus from the main floor was muffled through the walls and the lighting was slightly dim.

“Wow,” you peered around the romantic set up, “So this is where you take all your girls.”

Your date scoffed, about to protest, until you cut him off. “And don’t give me that lame ‘you’re the first one I’ve ever brought here’ line cause I know I’m not.”

That shut him up real quick as he basically plopped down in his chair and whipped open the menu without another word. You heard Kiara’s dad snort under his breath before exiting the room. It felt good to put the player in his place for once.

A server came by shortly to fill your fancy glasses with water and placed a basket of assorted bread on the candle-lit table. You all but hounded at the sight of carbs, taking huge unladylike bites.

In your defense, you hadn’t eaten at all that day. Your stomach was basically rumbling in the car under JJ’s thundering rap playlist.

“So,” JJ continued, ignoring your minorly disturbing eating habits, “I heard the Sea-Side Salad here is really good.”

Salad?

Your face knotted. He really must be ingesting too much salt water if he thought you were looking anywhere in the salad section of your menu.

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling any of these light options,” you stated, flipping through the pages.

It was his turn to be baffled. “Really? Well, all the girls you’ve claimed I’ve taken here have ordered it,” he scratched the back of his head, “What are you in the mood for then?”

Your eyes scanned through the seafood courses. Technically, you were being forced to go on this date against your wishes. Why not get all you can out of it? Make his pockets hurt. Besides, he did take you to the best seafood restaurant on the entire island.

“I’m feeling oysters and maybe some crab legs. Ooh, I didn’t even see the calamari,” you continued, “Okay, let’s get calamari, four pounds of oysters, crab legs, and fried shrimp to finish.”

JJ shut his menu loudly with a ear-to-ear grin stretched on his face. “You got it, princess.”

All around, your table flooded with various scrumptious dishes as you and JJ dug in to your feast. Maybe pretend-dating this boy wasn’t so bad after all. Your stomach certainly wasn’t opposed.

He giggled when you accidentally splotched cocktail sauce on your cheek, gesturing for you to wipe it. You tried to reach for the spot, but that only caused more red sauce to smear on your face. JJ fell back in his chair laughing and stretched over with his napkin to take care of it for you.

To your surprise, JJ actually marveled at your colorful palette, impressed by how you were able to scarf down all your food without an ounce of regret or a smudge on your white dress.

“So besides working, what else do you like to do around here?” he asked, stuffing his face with shrimp.

“Not much else, really,” you confessed, “Sometimes I’ll get together with friends after work. But I basically live at the shop. I’m actually trying to save up for a new car.”

He nodded as you swiped the last oyster before he could see, chowing it down. “You know, I’ve never met anyone who could surf like you. I told my friends about the pipeline the other day and they didn’t believe me! We should’ve filmed it or something.”

You chuckled. “Pipelines are tough, but they’re fun as hell once you figure it out.”

He leaned back in his seat. “I bet. How’d you start surfing?”

“My mom was really good at it when she was younger. She taught me when I was six, and I guess it just stuck.”

“My parents taught me too,” JJ added, “My family’s all about that surfing, fishing, sailing life. It’s in our blood. But hey, you should come surf with me and my friends one day. They’ll lose their shit when they see what you can do.”

“I’ll think about it,” you lied. You were flattered at his compliment, but if this sabotage mission was going to be executed according to schedule, you’d be done with him by July.

Your server came by afterwards to clear your table and drop off the check. After paying what you presumed to be a ginormous bill, JJ linked his fingers with yours and led you out the packed establishment.

He offered to take you for ice cream after, but at the point, you both were too full to take another bite of anything.

In the car ride back, he talked just about the entire way while you hummed absentmindedly and stared out the window. JJ rambled on and on about parties, smoking, and how him and his friends vowed to have the best summer of their lives. It was nice and all, but you really weren’t that interested and were too deep in your food coma to fake listen.

Seeing as you became less and less responsive to his stories, JJ reached across the truck to your leg. A soft smile hung on his lips when you turned to him.

“I had a really good time tonight, y/n,” he murmured, stroking your knee.

You cocked a brow at the blonde. “You did?”

“Definitely. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone chow down on oysters the way you did. And I like that you have a big appetite. And you aren’t afraid of trying new things. It’s hot.”

Hm. Interesting.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly as he pulled into your driveway. He shut off the engine and turned to you, the sound of your uneven breaths filling the car air.

“You know,” he began, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the party last week.”

You cocked your brow. “You have? Why?”

“I dunno. It was really weird how you just like ran off. Made me really curious about you. You seemed so confident and everything. I mean, after that, I knew I had to go after you.”

“I’m still not having sex with you,” you blurted.

“Y/n,” he assured, smoothly taking your hand, “I’m not just interested in sleeping with you.”

Somehow, you weren’t convinced. But for the sake of the operation, you played along. “Then what are you looking for with me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’m not so sure. But I do really like hanging out with you.”

As if you’ve never heard that one before. You wanted to groan. He really just gave you every fuckboy’s favorite line.

“Well alright then,” you said a bit hastily and unbuckled your seatbelt, “It’s late and should really get going. Thank you again for dinner.”

“Uh, yeah, goodnight...”

You saw a hint of desperation on his face as you turned to leave and paused. Sighing, you whirled around, reaching for his forearm that propped on the armrest.

You gently pressed your lips on his for a moment while his large hand caressed the side of your face. It was sweet kiss. It left JJ aching for more when you pulled away.

“When will I see you again?” he murmured as you started hopping out the truck.

You merely shrugged. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I’m free. Goodnight Loverboy.”

Strolling back into your house, you knew you had JJ right where you wanted him. You didn’t even need to look back to know he was sitting back in his seat, completely mesmerized.

When you flicked on the light of your room, you shrieked in alarm as four pairs of eyes practically laser-beamed at you like bats in the dark.

“What the fuck guys?!” you shouted.

“Your mom let us in earlier,” Soph mentioned casually, lounging on your bed.

“How’d the test run date go?” Maia asked as Arabella and Annalise pried through your closet.

“It was good, we went to The Wreck,” you informed, slipping out of your wedges. You patted on your food baby. “You know, I don’t mind going on more of these if free food is in the picture.”

Arabella held one of your sundresses to her front-side, posing in your mirror. “Did he say anything about a second date?”

“He asked when he’s gonna see me again. I don’t know why. All I did was ignore him the whole time and inhale my food. Anyways, what ploys did you guys come up with while I was gone?”

Annalise sent a devious grin your way and pulled up the notes on her phone for you to see. “This was just from our brainstorm sesh. Most of them were Arabella’s ideas. We were waiting for you to vote on the top five.”

The redhead flipped her hair at the mention of her name.

Your eyes bulged at the extensive, brutal list. “Spray paint car... women’s lingerie... estrogen pills? How the hell are we gonna do all this in two weeks?”

“Relax,” Sophia prodded, “The guy’s basically head over heels for you. Just keep your charming and unavailable act up and let us take care of the rest!”

Just then, you heard your phone ding from your purse. It was a text from JJ.

Just wanna say sweet dreams princess. I’ll def be dreaming about you. Anyways, movies on Tuesday? Heard Ironic Man was pretty good :)

----------------------------------

“So you excited for this? My friends said it was super good and there’s a mind-fuck at the end,” JJ rambled as he led you up the dark steps of the semi-crowded theatre.

“Yeah, I love Tony Park,” you replied nonchalantly, hugging the snacks.

No surprise, he booked you guys the very last row. You settled down the drinks and jumbo popcorn bucket while he lifted the seat’s arm that divided you two. He proceeded to wiggle his brows suggestively. You were glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see your face cringing for dear life.

Plopping down beside him, you immediately dug into the popcorn as the previews rolled. He grinned and reached for your thigh. “How was work today babe?”

“Pretty good,” you perked a little, “I signed three new clients and even taught this sixty-year-old lady how to do a cutback!”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, clearly not paying attention to anything that came out of your mouth. Inching closer, his lips trailed up your neck before he began nibbling on your ear.

From the side stairway, you detected four familiar heads prance up the steps with giant hoodies shielding their faces. They slid into the row before yours, trying to to muffle their giggles with their sleeves.

Amateurs.

Briefly, you caught Maia’s sly wink before the group sat down. On cue, you shoved your horny date off you.

“Hey JJ,” you whispered sultrily, placing a palm on his chest.

“Hm?”

“Do you think you can grab me some sour candy from the concessions? I totally forgot to grab them when we were there. Like, I can’t watch a movie without them.” Your lips jutted out into a convincing pout.

“Yeah sure, of course.” The blonde jogged down the sides and out the door just as Maia bent over the back of her seat and hurdled onto your row.

“Okay Black Widow, way to stay under the radar,” you commented on her ungraceful maneuver as she fished out a small bottle from her jacket pocket.

“What? This makes me feel like I’m in Mission Impossible. We’re basically spies now.” She popped open the cap and sprinkled some powder into JJ’s drink.

“Wait, what’s in that again?”

Maia smirked. “Oh, just a little... surprise for our favorite fuck boy. Just steer clear of him in like thirty minutes.”

She quickly flipped back over the row just as JJ’s bright yellow hair popped back into the theatre with your sweets. Your palms were sweating in anticipation.

Throughout the movie, JJ’s hands roamed your body as you obliviously munched on the candy. He constantly kissed on your neck and told you how cute you were, earning glares and shushes from the people around you.

After about thirty minutes, you noticed his leg restlessly fidgeting up and down.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, leaning away from him.

“Y-Yeah, j-just-”

His eyes all but darted out his face. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “Oh fuck.”

Instantly, he charged out the room at an inhuman pace while the quad in front of you erupted in laughter just as an important character died on screen.

“Guys, what the hell did you put in his drink?” you rasped, leaning over.

“Oh you know,” Annalise responded through her snickers, “Just a nice little laxative.”

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note: more sabotage to come ;) also pls message me if you want to be tagged

chapter 5

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls @hazelgirl355 @wicked-laugh @jjmaybankswife @ponyboys-sunsets @5am-cigarette @everydayimfangirling @angvelics @poguecollins @xealia @floridabornandraised @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @booksandshish @apoguecalledjj @bananasfromtarget @lulbabes @arthiriticcricket @lasnaro @aaleksmorozova @himarisolace @obxmxybxnk @lopineapples @x-lulu

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brookstonalmanac · 2 years

Text

Events 9.14

AD 81 – Domitian becomes Emperor of the Roman Empire upon the death of his brother Titus. 629 – Emperor Heraclius enters Constantinople in triumph after his victory over the Persian Empire. 786 – "Night of the three Caliphs": Harun al-Rashid becomes the Abbasid caliph upon the death of his brother al-Hadi. Birth of Harun's son al-Ma'mun. 919 – Battle of Islandbridge: High King Niall Glúndub is killed while leading an Irish coalition against the Vikings of Uí Ímair, led by King Sitric Cáech. 1180 – Genpei War: Battle of Ishibashiyama in Japan. 1226 – The first recorded instance of the Catholic practice of perpetual Eucharistic adoration formally begins in Avignon, France. 1402 – Battle of Homildon Hill results in an English victory over Scotland. 1607 – Flight of the Earls from Lough Swilly, Donegal, Ireland. 1682 – Bishop Gore School, one of the oldest schools in Wales, is founded. 1723 – Grand Master António Manoel de Vilhena lays down the first stone of Fort Manoel in Malta. 1741 – George Frideric Handel completes his oratorio Messiah. 1752 – The British Empire adopts the Gregorian calendar, skipping eleven days (the previous day was September 2). 1763 – Seneca warriors defeat British forces at the Battle of Devil's Hole during Pontiac's War. 1782 – American Revolutionary War: Review of the French troops under General Rochambeau by General George Washington at Verplanck's Point, New York. 1791 – The Papal States lose Avignon to Revolutionary France. 1808 – Finnish War: Russians defeat the Swedes at the Battle of Oravais. 1812 – Napoleonic Wars: The French Grande Armée enters Moscow. The Fire of Moscow begins as soon as Russian troops leave the city. 1814 – Battle of Baltimore: The poem Defence of Fort McHenry is written by Francis Scott Key. The poem is later used as the lyrics of The Star-Spangled Banner. 1829 – The Ottoman Empire signs the Treaty of Adrianople with Russia, thus ending the Russo-Turkish War. 1846 – Jang Bahadur and his brothers massacre about 40 members of the Nepalese palace court. 1862 – American Civil War: The Battle of South Mountain, part of the Maryland Campaign, is fought. 1901 – U.S. President William McKinley dies after being mortally wounded on September 6 by anarchist Leon Czolgosz and is succeeded by Vice President Theodore Roosevelt. 1911 – Russian Premier Pyotr Stolypin is shot by Dmitry Bogrov while attending a performance of Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tale of Tsar Saltan at the Kiev Opera House, in the presence of Tsar Nicholas II. 1914 – HMAS AE1, the Royal Australian Navy's first submarine, is lost at sea with all hands near East New Britain, Papua New Guinea. 1917 – The Russian Empire is formally replaced by the Russian Republic. 1936 – Raoul Villain, who assassinated the French Socialist Jean Jaurès, is himself killed by Spanish Republicans in Ibiza. 1939 – World War II: The Estonian military boards the Polish submarine ORP Orzeł in Tallinn, sparking a diplomatic incident that the Soviet Union will later use to justify the annexation of Estonia. 1940 – Ip massacre: The Hungarian Army, supported by local Hungarians, kill 158 Romanian civilians in Ip, Sălaj, a village in Northern Transylvania, an act of ethnic cleansing. 1943 – World War II: The Wehrmacht starts a three-day retaliatory operation targeting several Greek villages in the region of Viannos, whose death toll would eventually exceed 500 persons. 1944 – World War II: Maastricht becomes the first Dutch city to be liberated by allied forces. 1948 – The Indian Army captures the city of Aurangabad as part of Operation Polo. 1954 – In a top secret nuclear test, a Soviet Tu-4 bomber drops a 40 kiloton atomic weapon just north of Totskoye village. 1958 – The first two German post-war rockets, designed by the German engineer Ernst Mohr, reach the upper atmosphere. 1960 – The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) is founded. 1960 – Congo Crisis: Mobutu Sese Seko seizes power in a military coup, suspending parliament and the constitution. 1975 – The first American saint, Elizabeth Ann Seton, is canonized by Pope Paul VI. 1979 – Afghan leader Nur Muhammad Taraki is assassinated upon the order of Hafizullah Amin, who becomes the new General Secretary of the People's Democratic Party. 1982 – President-elect of Lebanon Bachir Gemayel is assassinated. 1984 – Joe Kittinger becomes the first person to fly a gas balloon alone across the Atlantic Ocean. 1985 – Penang Bridge, the longest bridge in Malaysia, connecting the island of Penang to the mainland, opens to traffic. 1989 – The Standard Gravure shooting where Joseph T. Wesbecker, a 47-year-old pressman, killed eight people and injured 12 people at his former workplace, Standard Gravure, before committing suicide. 1992 – The Constitutional Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina declares the breakaway Croatian Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia to be illegal. 1993 – Lufthansa Flight 2904, an Airbus A320, crashes into an embankment after overshooting the runway at Okęcie International Airport (now Warsaw Chopin Airport), killing two people. 1994 – The Major League Baseball season is canceled because of a strike. 1997 – Eighty-one killed as five bogies of the Ahmedabad–Howrah Express plunge into a river in Bilaspur district of Madhya Pradesh, India. 1998 – Telecommunications companies MCI Communications and WorldCom complete their $37 billion merger to form MCI WorldCom. 1999 – Kiribati, Nauru and Tonga join the United Nations. 2000 – Microsoft releases Windows Me. 2001 – Historic National Prayer Service held at Washington National Cathedral for victims of the September 11 attacks. A similar service is held in Canada on Parliament Hill, the largest vigil ever held in the nation's capital. 2002 – Total Linhas Aéreas Flight 5561 crashes near Paranapanema, Brazil, killing both pilots on board. 2003 – In a referendum, Estonia approves joining the European Union. 2007 – Financial crisis of 2007–2008: The Northern Rock bank experiences the first bank run in the United Kingdom in 150 years. 2008 – Aeroflot Flight 821, a Boeing 737-500, crashes into a section of the Trans-Siberian Railway while on approach to Perm International Airport, in Perm, Russia, killing all 88 people on board. 2015 – The first observation of gravitational waves is made, announced by the LIGO and Virgo collaborations on 11 February 2016. 2019 – Yemen's Houthi rebels claim responsibility for an attack on Saudi Arabian oil facilities.

#Events

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 19

Fate touches Scully's life, as does her own free will.

-----------------------

Can you still call something a miracle when you could not have gone on without it? When, if it hadn’t happened, the death knell would have sounded in your memory? Is that really a miracle, or is it just what had to occur? Certainly what keeps you breathing wouldn’t be so highly esteemed if the chips fell the other way. It would be called a tragedy, and no one wants to live in a world where every moment is caught between the two.

Scully existed there for a little while, but she’s escaped. Maybe for good. Because this--the Lace’s sacrifice, her signature on the adoption paper, her baby in her arms--is no miracle. This is God realizing she’s gotten her fair share, that he owes her a break. This is her fate.

In more normal circumstances, the foster family and the adoptive parent would have no contact. Social services would handle the transition. Since those barriers are already broken in Emily’s case, the state allows the Lace’s and their son to accompany Emily as she’s turned over to Scully. The nondescript woman in the polo shirt joins them as a witness to the custody change, and so they all find themselves at Bill Jr.’s house--of all places--for one grievous goodbye and a destined hello.

Mrs. Lace passes Emily to Scully moments after the family walks through the door. Her red-rimmed eyes reveal the depth of her agony.

“Take her,” she says. “I need to start letting go while she’s still in my sight.”

Scully bites her lip, feels Emily’s pudgy hand press into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lace. I can’t imagine how hard this must be. I’ll make good on my promise to send pictures and updates, I swear.”

“Thank you, Dana.” She sighs. “It’ll be an adjustment.”

Her husband taps the head of the little boy by his knee. “This is Andrew, our son. He wanted to make sure Emily has the best life possible, so he made you a guide to her favorite things.”

The boy--no more than five--holds up a construction paper booklet with crayon drawings of him and baby Emily. How To Mak My Sister Smile, his stilted handwriting reads. Scully’s heart skips a beat as she accepts it from him. She kneels down so he’s level with her and Emily.

“Thank you, Andrew. This is so sweet and I’ll be sure to read every bit of it and make sure your sister smiles every single day, okay?”

He nods, but tears cloud his vision.

Scully turns Emily so that she’s perched on her knee, facing Andrew. “Tell me--what’s your favorite thing to do with your sister?” she asks him softly.

He rubs his eyes and nose. “I like to show her my cars,” he stammers.

“Your cars? Wow!” Scully effuses. It’s not often that she gets to work on her kiddie voice, and she’ll need that now.

The color returns Andrew’s face. “Yeah, yeah, my race cars! I have a mat for them, and I push them around the track, and she watches. She likes the races. They make her laugh sometime.”

“Wow! You sound like a great big brother.”

“Yeah, and I like her bouncy thing too,” he sputters. “It was mine before.”

“An activity jumper,” Mr. Lace clarifies. “From Fisher-Price.”

“Ahh.” Scully’s happy to get any insight she can into her daughter’s early life. The Lace’s offered to send some toys with Emily, but Scully will only accept a couple onesies and Emily’s beloved stuffed rabbit. She doesn’t want to take any more from them than she already is.

She adjusts Emily on her knee, looks to Andrew. “Do you wanna give your sister a hug?”

“Okay.” He moves bashfully toward her and wraps his arms around Emily. He holds on until Emily begins to fuss, then steps back like he’s been caught sneaking away from time out.

“Emily’s lucky to have a big brother like you,” Scully tells him. “Your parents have my phone number, and you can call and talk to her whenever you want, okay? I know she can’t say much yet, but she’ll grow into it, and besides, she’ll recognize your voice.” Scully offers him a spirit-boosting smile. “Does that sound good?”

He nods, hands linked behind his back. Stranger shyness has taken over.

“Good. She’s gonna need her big brother to stick up for her.”

Scully stands up, clutching Emily to her chest.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace,” Scully addresses them, “it’s impossible for me to sum up how deeply, deeply grateful I am for you and your sacrifice. It is no exaggeration to say that you have saved my life. I can already tell that Emily is so lucky to have been raised by you--that you have done an incredible job--and I hope that the two of us will continue to be a part of you and your son’s lives as Emily grows up.”

Mrs. Lace dabs her cheeks with a tissue. Mr. Lace frowns at his wife’s pain. “That means a great deal to us, Dana,” he replies.

“We feel blessed to have led Emily through her formative months,” his wife murmurs through her tear-strickenness.

The man nods. “She’s a wonderful kid, and I’m sure some of that comes from you.”

Scully smiles tautly. “I could say the same of you. Thank you for giving her the start I was denied from providing her.”

“You’ll let us know if you need any help, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll have your number on speed dial by the end of the night.”

The Lace’s formal goodbye had taken place at home, they said, and dragging out their visit would only make matters worse. They leave Bill Jr.’s house after a few short minutes, advancing down the front steps like a funeral procession.

When the door shuts and Scully’s baby is in her arms, she realizes that this will be her life for the rest of her life. What joy--! What horror--!

----------------------------

The heater’s gentle sigh provides a generous rush of white noise as the girls settle for sleep. It’s the time of year when San Diego’s nightly temperatures start drifting away from perfection, when sleeping with the windows open no longer has such appeal. According to Bill, it’s not cold enough to turn on the heating system (surprise, surprise) so he pulled a dusty space heater from the closet for the “girl’s room” to share. Like a gentleman, Mulder took the couch (as if he had any other option), leaving Scully, Missy, and now Emily with the guest room. A family affair, one generation rounded out by another.

It’s a convenient arrangement, really. Bill doesn’t have a crib and it’s not worth buying one for a single night, so Emily will be sleeping on the bed like a grown-up. If Missy weren’t there as a physical barrier, Scully would be taking the chance that Emily might roll off the unattended side. Instead, the little girl’s mother and aunt will be an arm’s length away for her first sleep with her new family. A symbolic gesture of the protection they hope to provide for the rest of her life.

It’s a wonder how smoothly the transition has gone. Emily hasn’t shed a single tear since the family she knew left her in this strange house. Then again, Scully has never seen her daughter cry; like her mother, she must not be prone to it.

Tara served a ham for dinner while Scully spooned mashed carrots and peas into Emily’s mouth, her helicopter parenting beginning early. Mulder made some joke about gourmet baby food, and everybody laughed except Bill, and Scully felt that she finally understood what was meant by family--some who share your blood will never fit into it, but some who were once strangers will more than make up for that absence.

And now, as Scully lowers her onesie-clad daughter onto the guest bed, there is peace. Terror, too, lingers in her mind, but it’s the unwarranted kind. She is the mother to a healthy baby girl. Yes, there will be challenges. Yes, a person loved separately from yourself is a person you could lose. But the summit has been reached; the worst did not happen, and now everything else pales in comparison. As far as Scully’s concerned, she can never be truly hurt again. Because if anything happens to Emily, well, this is what Scully asked for, and what gives her the right to complain? Beggars can’t be choosers, and she begged God for this...The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. This happened in the opposite order for her, so she can only assume more loss is to come, and she will accept it. She will.

Scully slides beneath the comforter, snaking her arm out from under to rest a hand on the small of her baby’s back. A comfort very familiar to her, and one she will bequeath to her daughter. They have the bed to themselves for now. Missy is in the living room downing a beer with the boys and trying to compete with (or mediate?) their trash talk. In the past, a situation like this might worry Scully, but those old concerns look so small now.

Only a few hours in, and she already feels much more at home with the title of mother, much more deserving of it. The first diaper she changed rivaled some of the operations she witnessed in med school, both in its gruesome nature and in requiring multiple pairs of hands. Mulder would help if Emily was a boy, he swore, but he claimed to be “out of his depth with her plumbing” as he put it. Missy quipped that you sure are and it made even Bill laugh and life was wonderfully rose-colored through Dana Scully’s eyes.

She hopes for sweet dreams for herself, but much more so, for her daughter, and she is aware that this is how it will be for the rest of time. Having been half-asleep when she was put down, Emily lulls into even-breathed dozing before Scully can decide on a lullaby. No harm done; Scully’s vocal cords haven’t seen regular exercise since college karaoke, and she’d hate to disappoint so soon.

When she opens her eyes again (she hadn’t realized she closed them, but apparently she had), Emily is deep in sleep, her eyelids twitching to the rhythm of her unseen dreams. And Missy has joined them too, her mouth drooping like it did when the sisters shared a bed every Christmas Eve. Scully doesn’t know what time it is, and with such a picture perfect view in front of her, she won’t dare to roll over and check the bedside clock. How nice it is to exist beyond time’s constraints, even for a moment.

Scully is as present, maybe, as she’s ever been. She’s touched by the past and the future, ironically giving her a heightened awareness of now. One side of her consciousness is borne back into childhood and the many nights she slept by her sister’s side--in this very city, in fact. The other sees a path of hope unfurling in front of it, finally. She wonders whether her happiness might multiply, like a drop of food coloring unleashed into water. Might Emily be the shield that she’s needed?...Maybe the loss she expects will not be what comes.

And what that could mean...she has meant, for a long time now, to plant Mulder firmly in her life. Partner is much too fleeting--the Bureau could close the X-Files tomorrow, and then they’d be nothing but ex-coworkers. They’ve established where they stand through silences that say more than words ever could. She loves him, he loves her, and my god, neither one wants to lose that. It’s only now that Scully is realizing that they haven’t--or she, rather, hasn’t--embraced what they have, and so there is nothing to lose, and very little to cherish.

With all this change in her life, she thinks, why not add that to the list?

--------------------------------------

They fly back into DC on Emily’s first birthday. November 2nd. Or at least, that’s the date that was left on the note at the foster agency. Scully isn’t sure exactly what she was doing last November 2nd, but she wasn’t having a baby, that’s certain. It was around the time of Aubrey, Missouri and BJ and nightmares, she remembers that. Plus, the phantom pregnancy, and the fear. The universe has a way of echoing itself.

They’re off to Mama Scully’s as soon as they make it off the tarmac. She’s aching to see her granddaughter, as she let Dana and Melissa know through a barrage of phone calls. I even made cupcakes and bought decorations for a warm welcome home! she insisted. Neither one of them can remember their mother being this excited about anything since...honestly? Ever. And they can’t blame her; Emily is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to their family. If only their father were here to meet her.

This is the sorrow that Scully has not had time to pick at. Her hero, her role model, the blueprint for all she wants Emily to be, not around to see it happen. She can’t think further than that; it’s the loose string that would unravel the sweater.

Mama Scully opens the door before they make it up the front steps, armed with yellow balloons and a party hat for the birthday girl. What a way to meet your grandmother.

“Hello dear!” It’s unclear whether she’s referring to Emily, one of her daughters, or the three as a unit. “Look at you…” she cups her hands around Emily’s head, and now they’re pretty sure who she’s referring to. “You’re like a little princess!”

Scully smirks. She’s glad to witness her mother’s happiness, of course, but they’ve just finished five hours of travelling with a baby. “Mom, please, could you save the theatrics for inside?”

“Oh, I have a whole other set of theatrics planned there,” Mama Scully quips. She clears the way, ushers the group into the house.

She touches Mulder’s shoulder as he passes. “Fox! I almost didn’t see you there.”

“Well, I can’t compete with Emily, so I don’t blame you.”

“She is precious, isn’t she?” Mrs. Scully gazes toward the doorway that Scully and Emily have since deserted. “There’s a place for you in Emily’s future, you know.”

Mulder shoves his hands in his pockets. “Oh.” He doesn’t know what else to say to that, and besides, it should be up to Scully.

“Unless there’s another woman in your life…?”

“No, no, I just--” he chuckles. “I didn’t expect that.”

Mama Scully lays a hand on his arm. “I care about you, Fox. Your well-being is deeply connected with my daughter’s.”

“Yes, of course…” He really, really would like to go in now.

“And it’s important to me that she has a strong support system throughout this ordeal. Raising a child is a tremendous challenge, and I don’t want her to feel that the burden is hers alone.”

“I completely agree.”

“That’s why you should adopt Emily, too. Give her the gift of a father.”

Mulder’s brain short-circuits. “I--what? Mrs. Scully, I don’t know--”

She puts a hand on his back and leads him inside. “Think about it. You and Dana, forming a family for this child that needs one. It would be a little untraditional, of course, but the wedding could come in due time, no need to rush.”

Mulder’s head is spinning. This is a practical joke, right? The hidden cameras can feel free to reveal themselves any time now.

The pair stops in the front hallway, a safe distance from everyone else in the kitchen. Mulder tries to mold his thoughts into cohesive sentences.

“Mrs. Scully, your intentions are good, but I think this solution is a bit extreme. I’m more than happy to help with Emily as much as possible, but becoming her father would just make things more complicated for all involved. And trust me, even if I were onboard, there’s no way Dana would go for it.”

Mama Scully nods. “I anticipated that. I’m going to talk with her tonight, straighten things out.”

Mulder does an awkward side-to-side shuffle. “If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that her mind is not easily changed.”

“Yes, well, I doubt this is something Dana has given much thought to. I’m hoping to get my argument across before she takes sides.”

“Mmm.” Mulder looks off toward the kitchen, where he would like to be.

“I’ll let Dana know that we’ve discussed my proposition,” Mama Scully continues, “and then you two can talk it over, alright? I don’t mean to force you into anything. It just feels like a logical step. I’m sure you’d agree that your relationship is deeper than that of many married couples.”

“Sure, but it’s very different too,” Mulder mutters. This is not a topic to delve into with his partner’s mother, of all people. “I don’t know that they can be compared.”

“Perhaps you should consider it.”

Mrs. Scully holds her hardened glance for a long second, and Mulder is the one who breaks. He scoots out of her direct line of sight, then gestures for her to go before him into the kitchen. “Shall we?”

------------------------------

They celebrate Emily’s 365th day around the sun like they’ve been by her side for every one of them. Before the crew arrived, Mama Scully whipped up vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles, or as she put it, “a little bit of everything since I don’t know what she likes.” She even bought a happy birthday banner and sharpied in Emily’s name--not to mention five birthday hats and a humongous 1 candle that a single cupcake can barely hold up.

It’s a testament to Emily’s character that she’s so unbothered by it all. She lets Mama Scully slip the hat into place, shows no visible distress to the admiration she receives from the room. She prefers her mother’s arms over anyone else’s--they are, after all, the most familiar of the unfamiliar--but she’s content anywhere that welcomes her. And this is a place where she is most welcome.

Scully reminds herself to capture these little moments in her mind...Emily’s effervescent giggle as Missy tickles the bottoms of her feet, Mulder helping Mama Scully add extra sprinkles to each cupcake, the warm hug of a family’s company. Love, love, there is so much love here.

The time comes for cake and singing and blown-out candles. Well, candle in this case. Mulder performs the honor of lighting said candle as everyone gathers around, Emily nestled in her mother’s arms.

“Ready?” Mulder inquires. He conducts in time with his countdown. “One, two, one, two, three…”

The rendition is not in tune on anyone’s part (though Missy is the closest), but at least their intentions are harmonious. Scully’s heart swells. Mulder and Missy throw in a zany “and many more!” for the cherry on top of a joyous moment. Scully mourns its end; the birthday song is much too brief.

“Make a wish!” Missy chirps, and Scully leans forward and blows out the flame for her daughter. Safety, happiness, love...these are the things she asks for. These are the things that everyone deserves.

Scully’s not surprised when her mother pulls her aside a few minutes later and leads her to the library, leaving Emily at Missy and Mulder’s mercy. Her mother is fond of sentimental speeches, but not brave enough for an audience. Scully steels herself for a mushy-gushy outpouring.

Mama Scully shuts the door, turns to her daughter. “I’m overflowing with joy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, mom,” Scully answers, tiresome already. “I’m a bit afraid this is all a dream that I’ll wake up from at any moment.”

“Pinch yourself. You’ll see that it’s not, I promise.”

Scully pinches her bicep, more for her mother’s amusement than anything. This is, in fact, reality.

“You must be very overwhelmed, I imagine,” Mrs. Scully remarks, beginning to pace. Scully follows with her eyes.

“There is a lot that I haven’t sorted out yet, yes,” Scully replies, her suspicion about her mother’s intentions growing. “Work, for example. I only have one more day off, and then I have to explain everything to Skinner, and hopefully I’ll qualify for maternity leave. But the Bureau isn’t very good about that, it’s only two weeks.”

“Just remember that I’m always available to babysit Emily if you need it.”

“I know, mom.”

Mama Scully allows herself to get side-tracked for a moment. “You have a crib though? And diapers, and a high chair?”

Scully nods. “Required for the home study.”

“Good.” Mama Scully sweeps back a wayward piece of her daughter’s hair. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re all alone in this.”

Her mother’s soft gaze unearths a sudden swell of emotion; tears prick at the back of Scully’s eyes. “I know, mom.”

“And I know that you’re gonna say you are Emily’s only legal guardian, and so you are technically alone, but you know what? You don’t have to be,” Mama Scully asserts. “There is someone out there who is willing to fill that void for you.”

Scully rolls her eyes, her brief emotional trance broken. “Don’t tell me you're gonna set me up with the Prizatskys’ son again.”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Scully laughs. “Besides, he’s engaged now.”

“Oh.” Scully tries to miss the patronization in her mother’s voice.

“What I’m saying is,” Mrs. Scully continues, “there is a man in your life who is loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, and in the perfect position to provide for you and Emily.”

“If you’re referring to Mulder,” Scully starts, an eyebrow raised, “I’m not exactly planning to shun him anytime soon.”

“Yes, but have you ever truly let him in?”

Mrs. Scully has aimed her arrow and hit her target, a stunning blow. The most damning parts of Scully’s inner dialogue have just been echoed back at her.

Wounded, she swallows hard. “That’s really none of your business. And just because he’s in my life doesn’t mean that he magically fills the role of Emily’s father. How would that even work? Emily would have to be shuttled back and forth...She’d be split between one parent and the other...It would make her life more hectic.”

“Dana, Dana…” Mama Scully pulls her daughter close, recognizing that she’s struck a nerve. Scully stiffens into the hug. “Remember when you were little, and your father would be gone on long deployments, and you’d draw pictures of him in his uniform, and tell your class about how your father was a Navy captain, and you were so proud? You barely had a sense of what that meant, but you knew he was doing something important.”

Scully relaxes into their embrace. “And when I missed him the worst, you’d let me wear his old sailor hat.”

“Yes.” Mama Scully takes a hearty breath. “I was there every day, feeding you, bathing you, sending you off to school...and you loved me, I don’t doubt that, but I wasn’t the one who put stars in your eyes.”

Scully nods against her mother’s shoulder. Damn, if she isn’t winding her way toward a convincing point.

“Emily’s gonna love you whatever you choose. But the fuller her life is--the more love she’s surrounded by--the more she’ll have to give, and the brighter her light will shine.”

Scully sniffles, shaken by the truth of this. God, to know as much love as she’s known in her life and resist it still. That’s not the way a life is meant to be lived.

“Thank you, mom,” she whispers in her mother’s ear. It’s an imprecise affirmation--encompassing everything and yet a specific something that she can no longer reject.

Scully pulls away, smiles at her mom. “No more meddling, okay? I’ll sort this out for myself.”

Mama Scully laughs. “You just needed that push. Now that the ball’s rolling, I’ll leave it alone.”

“You’d better,” Scully teases. She gestures toward the door. “I should get back to my baby.”

“Yes,” Mama Scully grins, “you should.”

-------------------------------

The knock on the door comes at a quarter to noon, as Scully expected. She didn’t expect that she’d be scrubbing grape juice off the tile when it happened, but hey, these are the disruptions everyone in her life will have to get used to. Including--especially--her.

“I’ll get it!” Missy’s voice breezes through the apartment.

A moment later, Scully finds herself level with a pair of black dress shoes. Big ones. A twelve if she had to guess.

“Scully, if you wanna know my shoe size, just ask,” Mulder jests, and has he read her mind? She feels like she’s been caught in a compromising act, though she’s done nothing but wipe up a sticky purple mess. She cranes her neck, looks up at him.

“Good morning, Mulder,” she mumbles, running her hand over the spill area. Coming up clean, she finds her footing. The top of her head is even with her partner’s collarbone.

Scully thumbs toward Emily, who is gobbling cheese crackers in her high chair without a care in the world. “Apparently she doesn’t like grape juice.”

“Grape juice?” Mulder jeers. “She knows orange juice is where it’s at.”

Scully ignores him, but makes a mental note to add OJ to the grocery list. And apple too, just to be safe.

“Let me get my shoes and I’ll be ready to go,” she says, shuffling off in her pantyhose without waiting for a response.

They have a lunchtime meeting with Skinner to explain...well, everything. Mulder doesn’t need to be there--as his partner was quick to remind him--but he insists on advocating for her. No amount of I’m not a damsel in distress, Mulder will put him off. She’s so much more than that, he knows. Hence why he’s got to do all he can so her life isn’t defined by its crises. Besides, he’ll take any excuse to sneak down to the office on his day off.

He told Scully he’d pick her up because it’d be easier on her, sure, but also because he has an important delivery to make. He nods to Missy, and she grabs the goods off the front table. He wanted to make his entrance before the big moment. His presence known, he’s ready to go.

“Emily, Uncle Mulder brought something for you!” Missy sing-songs as she places the gifts in Mulder’s hidden hands. The girl looks up, her attention easily diverted here and there.

Mulder tries to tip-toe forward--hands behind his back--without coming off as creepy, which is harder than it seems. He takes it as a good sign that Emily doesn’t spook and wonders what it means that Missy called him Uncle Mulder. Did she and Scully have a conversation about it? Is this what he’ll be known as? Or was that just a last minute reach to fill the space?

He pushes these thoughts away, focuses on the blue-eyed girl in front of him.

“Emily,” he begins, and it rolls off his tongue like a devotion, “I thought your bunny might like some friends.”

He reveals the fox first, then the UFO. His personal mark on Emily’s budding stuffed animal collection. She lets out a peep of astonishment and reaches for the fox, fascinated with its bushy tail. She hits it back and forth so it wags like a dog’s.

Mulder chuckles, his brain lighting up in places it never has before. Missy hangs back and waits for her sister to reemerge. Sure enough, Scully melts at the sight, stopping short so she doesn’t interrupt it. She clutches her heart. She and Missy share a smile.

“My, my, look at this,” Scully saunters in, ruffles Emily’s hair. “Do you know what this is, Em?” she asks, patting the fox. “This is a fox.” She points to Mulder. “And this is a Fox, too!”

Emily doesn’t get the joke, but that’s okay.

“And do you know what this is?” Mulder prompts, picking up the flying saucer. He moves it through the air like it’s flying. Emily reaches for it, and god, Mulder knows the feeling.

“This is a UFO, Emily,” Mulder tells her sweetly. “Aliens!”

“No, no.” Scully plucks the UFO from his hand. “No aliens, Em.”

She lays the saucer on the high chair tray. “Mama’s gotta go away for a little bit, but I’ll be back soon.” She kisses Em’s temple. “Auntie Missy will be right here.”

Missy steps forward. “We can play with Mr. Fox and the al--” Scully shoots her a look. ”The UFO!” she corrects, winking at Mulder. She scoops her niece out of the high chair. “Say ‘bye Mama!’”

Emily doesn’t have that grasp on words yet, and they all know it, but Missy gets her to wave. “Okay, now ‘bye Uncle Mulder!’” Another wave. Smiles all around.

Mulder and Scully move reluctantly toward the door. Scully groans as Missy and the baby girl slip from her view.

“They’ll be okay,” Mulder assures his partner.

“I know,” Scully sighs, “but will I?”

Mulder rests his hand in the familiar spot on her back as they exit her apartment. “Absolutely. Skinner will grant you the leave, and you’ll be back with your baby in no time.”

She nods, bites her lip, and slows, suddenly wistful. Mulder stops, turns to her. “Scully…?”

“Mulder, did my mom have a conversation with you?”

He nods.

“And...did you think it was kind of crazy too?”

He nods again.

She takes a breath and rises to her tip-toes. She could pretend not to know what she’s doing, but she does. Oh, she does.

“But not out of the realm of extreme possibility…?” she coos, eyes centered on his lips.

Mulder smiles shyly. He always expected it would be this way: Scully the coquette to his boyish ineptitude. Who knew she’d be stealing his lines.

His hands find her waist, pulling her closer there in the hallway. “No, no,” he muses, “I think it’s pretty solidly in the realm…” He nuzzles her neck, breathes in her sweet smell, and nibbles her ear, all in the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. “...of extreme possibility,” he purrs into her ear, satisfied with himself.

It reminds Scully of do you believe in the existence of ~extraterrestrials~ and how she knew then that he was a little bit unhinged, whip-snap smart, and too goddamn charming for his own good. That either fate or her own unconquerable desire would bring them together. She knows now that fate conspired to keep them apart. What’s unfolding is neither an act of its hand nor a last-ditch effort of a dead-end life. It is one choice among many, undertaken out of sheer belief in the happiness it could bring.

She looks into his eyes, which look back at her with a caramel-drizzle melt. Yes, yes, this is right. She fans a hand out on his cheek, runs her thumb over his mole. She has always wanted to touch it, but could never come up with a good excuse.

They’ve delayed the inevitable long enough. Scully leans in, still on her tip-toes, and Mulder bends to close the distance. Their lips meet, and there’s no fireworks. No, it’s simple serenity. Like coming home after a long time away--though this is a house they have never walked into until now, they have a feeling they will be walking into it for the rest of their lives.

And then Scully pulls away, and it’s over but it’s just beginning.

#a moment of happiness among all the angst <3 #thank you as always for reading #kinda sorta almost done #but i have one last angsty twist cause that's who i am #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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mortallyclearwonderland · 3 years

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Star Wars Alien Species - Bothan

The industrial world of Bothawui is the birthplace of the Bothans, along with various colony worlds throughout The Mid Rim territories.

Their race evolved on the world of Bothawui which was located in the Mid Rim and were known to have developed the technology to travel through the stars millennia ago whereupon they became long standing members of the galactic community. The Bothans were noted for being long time members of the Galactic Republic. In the millennia prior to the Great Sith War, the rapid expansion of hyperspace lanes led to a period of exploration. This saw the Bothans found their first colony of Kothlis along with a growing influence in the Galactic Senate. This era also saw the rapid growth of the Bothan Spynet where their agents were sent to newly discovered worlds that saw Bothawui becoming a hub for information. They were noted for being ever loyal allies to the Galactic Republic. However, Republic support was withdrawn from the long-standing allies as a result of the Treaty of Coruscant. The Bothans were said to have mastered the art of intelligence gathering as far back as 300 BBY, and began exploiting it for personal gain. A hundred years later, they made contact with the Dressellians; they recognized that species' potential and departed in order to allow them to evolve without interference.

Whilst a longtime member and supporter of the Republic, the Bothans remained neutral during the period known as the Clone Wars. In this time, the Bothan Senator Polo Se'lab abstained from politically charged votes leading up to the conflict. Though not playing one side against the other, the Bothans served each one in a professional but not exclusive manner. Their reasoning for helping both the Separatists and Republic was the belief that furnishing each side with intelligence would hasten the end of the war. This stance on neutrality did not stop both the Confederacy and Republic from courting Bothan aid to their respective side, though this only increased their stance of supporting neither faction in the Clone Wars.

Although Bothawui remained neutral during the Galactic Civil War, the Bothans maintained a small defense force to protect the planet, along with Bothan colonies and economic interests. Aside from a figurehead governor and a small garrison of stormtroopers, there was little Imperial presence. Both Imperial and Rebel Alliance intelligence, by a mutual, unspoken agreement, decided to let the planet serve as neutral ground, where they could engage in their clandestine activities without risking open conflict. Bothan soldiers and officers were trained at the oft-mocked Bothan Martial Academy.

During the search for the new Death Star, two dozen Bothans sacrificed their lives in order to attain the technical specifications for the space station. Furthermore, they learnt that the Emperor himself intended to inspect the Death Star II, which paved the way for a Rebel attack at the unfinished weapon around Endor.

Despite official neutrality, the Bothan Spynet played a significant role in military operations throughout the war. Bothan spies acquired top secret codes for the first Death Star and delivered them to rogue Imperial Moff Kalast, who in turn handed them over to the Rebellion. Hundreds of Bothans would be personally slaughtered by Emperor Palpatine for their treachery, most notably during the 501st Legion's retaliatory attack on the Rebel base on the surface of Yavin 4, killing 3 Bothan Rebel leaders. Later, under the leadership of Koth Melan, spies provided information to the Rebel Alliance, and were crucial in securing the plans to the second Death Star.

After the Empire subjugated the Bothan worlds, Alliance General Bob Hudsol organized many Bothans into a resistance movement that eventually overthrew the Imperial garrison. As Bothan involvement in the New Republic increased, so did Bothan military advancement. From 4.5 ABY to 8 ABY, the New Republic Defense Fleet maintained a Bothan-only Bothan Combat Response Element as a quick response force, giving early experience to many future Bothan officers of the New Republic. By 25 ABY, Bothans such as Traest Kre'fey held high ranking posts in the New Republic military, and Bothan engineers had developed several warships, such as the Bothan Assault Cruiser.

When the Second Galactic Civil War began in 40 ABY, the Bothan government joined the Corellians. The Bothans began to build small, fast but durable frigates to aid the war effort and transport. Mon Calamari Admiral and Chief of Staff Cha Niathal stated that the Bothans had theorized a new fleet tactic: smaller, faster ships instead of heavily armed but inherently slow Star Destroyers.

Bothan culture was guided by the philosophy and principles set forth in the ancient text known as The Way, written by Golm Fervse'dra. In this "Bothan Way", the pursuit of power and influence was paramount. Thus, individual Bothans put their own political and economic success above all other concerns, and as a species, Bothans put their own advancement ahead of other intergalactic interests, though many did side with the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil war. The volume of backstabbing, subtle character assassination and political maneuvering in Bothan society was dizzying, and resulted in many species stereotyping Bothans as untrustworthy. In fact, most Bothans are habitually paranoid, believing that anyone who's not working with them, is working against them.

In times of crisis, the focus of Bothan society shifted to a survivalist state known as "ar'krai". When engaged in ar'krai, all fit Bothans volunteered to defend their species from impending annihilation. The last calling of ar'krai was during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion after the death of Borsk Fey'lya and the practical defeat of the New Republic.

Immediate Bothan families were organized into large clans, which were the most important social unit in Bothan society; family and clan loyalty were equally important as power accumulation. Clan association was denoted as the last component in a Bothan name. For example, the name Girov Dza'tey would mean that Girov was his given name, Dza his family name, and that he was of the Atey clan.

The Bothan Council, a representative body of selective Bothan clans, was the primary governmental body of the Bothan people. Renamed the "Combined Clans" during the New Republic era, the body was still commonly referred to as the Council. At the height of the Galactic Civil War, the council comprised representatives from 608 registered clans. A constant flow of new clans petitioned for membership with the numbers soaring during crises like the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. At the head of the Council was the First Secretary, who led the council from their headquarters in Merchant's Square in the capital of Drev'starn.

Beginning with the Clone Wars and continuing after the fall of the Galactic Republic, the Council absorbed many of the Bothan political bodies, such as the Bothan Independent Treasury, seeing them as wasteful, corrupt and inefficient. Highly centralized, the Bothan Council governed all social, political, economic and security issues of Bothan life.

The Bothan Diplomatic Corps was one of the few government organizations to survive the culling, and was in fact expanded. The Diplomatic Corp operated as a branch of the Bothan government, and held the responsibility of furthering Bothan ideals through diplomacy. Its agents met with the leaders of other worlds, forged treaties, and represented Bothawui in the New Republic, to ensure that Bothan ends were served in any alliance.

Although Bothan Space have been prominent members of the New Republic and the Galactic Alliance that replaced it, Bothawui joined the Confederation in 40 ABY after the assassination of several Bothan citizens on Coruscant by the order of Jacen Solo, and the revelation of a Galactic Alliance plot to invade Bothan Space.

Pers'lya was a Bothan Supreme Chancellor circa 12,000 BBY.

Bothans are covered with fur that ripples in response to their emotional state. They have tapered ears, and both male and female Bothans sport beards.

The Bothans were able to interbreed with the other species, as exemplified by the Jedi Lord Valenthyne Farfalla. Such hybrids somewhat resembled baseline humans with haunches, hooves, fur, pointed ears and a long tail.

They average about 1.6 meters or 5.2 feet tall and averages at 55 kilograms or 121.2 pounds in weight.

Bothans age at the following stages:

1 - 11 Child

12 - 16 Young Adult

17 - 45 Adult

46 - 65 Middle Age

66 - 84 Old

Examples of Names: Borsk Fey'lya, Karka Kre'fey, Koth Melan, Tav Breil'lya, Tereb Ab'lon.

Languages: Bothese was the spoken language of the Bothans. The language was also known as Bothan. Botha was the written form of the Bothan language. The alphabet was also adopted by the Dressellians for their language. Wrendui was a subtle body language of the Bothans. Their fur shifted in response to their emotional state by way of gentle ripplings. Bothan spies used many secretive forms to communicate.

#star wars #star wars aliens #star wars species #bothan #Bothan #star wars Bothan #Valenthyne Farfalla

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 9

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Meant to update this last night but forgot, whoops.�� The shopping trip continues, so that means one thing: more Scott&TOS!Gordon. Hope you like this duo because there’s a lot of it to come :D Also no full panic attacks in this chapter, but there are a couple of occasions where he starts spiralling before something stops him, so here’s a vague warning for that, I guess?

<<<Chapter 8

Other-Gordon didn’t start talking until the engine was running.

“You still okay to keep going?”

“I’m fine.” It came out sharper than it was supposed to, and he winced.

“If that’s what you say.” Other-Gordon sounded dubious, but didn’t press the matter, to Scott’s relief. “Can’t say I blame you. This is crazy enough for me; I can’t imagine how bad it is for you.”

“Don’t tell them.” Other-Scott had already caught him on the edge of an outburst once, and they’d all seen him explode in the hangar, but Scott needed to seem at least somewhat in control.

Especially in front of Not-Dad.

Amber eyes analysed him for a moment. “The fellas won’t think less of you for it, Scott.” The words hung in the air, Scott not bothering to respond despite Other-Gordon giving him the opportunity, and the ginger sighed. “Scott should know, in case something gets out about it. Madeleine’s discreet enough, but…”

Scott swallowed, but saw the sense in that.

“Besides, I fully intend on sending him out to collect all the clothes, so he’ll find out anyway.” There was a grin on Other-Gordon’s face that Scott subconsciously labelled trouble. He’d seen it enough on his own Gordon’s face to know that Other-Scott was in for a prank or two. “You can’t talk in public and it’d look mighty odd for the rest of us to be picking them up.”

That definitely made sense.

“So where to next?” he asked, deciding to change the subject rather than let that one linger. Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“We might as well get your workman’s clothes out of the way,” he said. “Luckily for you, I do know somewhere we can get those.”

He put his foot down and the car started moving, rolling out of the parking lot and onto the main streets again.

“Say,” he continued. “What was with the poke?”

It took Scott a moment to remember what he was referring to, the fiasco of the fitting rooms having almost pushed it from his mind.

“To get your attention,” he said. “Don’t you guys do that?”

“The fellas do,” Other-Gordon admitted. “But not to me.” The words were laced with an undercurrent of bitterness, reminding Scott of their discussions about the rescues he was kept off of. “They tap me on the arm.” Scott frowned.

“They think you’re that fragile?”

The man shrugged. “Father does.” There was a heavy pause. “It’s strange. It’s not as though you don’t know about the crash, but you don’t treat me any different to the other fellas.”

Scott kept his eyes on the road in front of them. “From what I can tell, you’re just as fit as my Gordon,” he said. “He’d make my life hell if I treated him like he was broken. Well, I did, at first,” he admitted. “When he was in hospital, and then through the physio afterwards. I… I was terrified something would go wrong.” He’d never told anyone that before, but Other-Gordon… Something told him Other-Gordon needed to hear it. “But he wasn’t having any of it.” A fond grin crept onto his face uninvited, but he didn’t try and force it away. “Gordon’s tough, stronger than the rest of us put together, probably. I won’t lie, it took me a while, but I trust him to know his limits. If he’s having a bad day, if he can’t go out, he tells me. Otherwise…” he shrugged. “He can handle it.”

Other-Gordon’s hands were tight on the wheel.

“I’ve only known you a few hours,” he continued. “So maybe I’m wrong, but you seem just as strong. I figure if something’s too much, you’ll say.”

“Well, I do know my own limits,” the ginger agreed. “You know, I’d almost forgotten what a jab in the ribs felt like.” Scott glanced across to see his lips pulled into a grin. “Who knows, maybe the fellas could learn a thing or two while you’re here.”

Scott laughed, unsure if the unspoken message was simply permission or a plea, but hearing it anyway. “Maybe.”

Silence lingered between them for a moment, scoring a line under that enlightening conversation. Scott was glad for it – in many respects, most respects, Other-Gordon was still a stranger. Telling him things he’d never even told his own family, even if he was fairly certain Gordon suspected more than he let on, felt decidedly weird. He didn’t regret it, though, because even if Other-Gordon was basically a stranger, he was also Gordon.

Trying to wrap his head around that idea was definitely a challenge.

The fact that Scott had got the feeling he’d needed to hear it made him wonder exactly what Other-Gordon’s relationship with his family was. Father does, he’d said. No mention of his brothers. Just how much did Not-Dad rule the roost?

“We’re nearly there,” Other-Gordon said, interrupting his chain of thought. “Custom is going to be tricky without you talking, so give me the run-down now. Blue?”

“Are you guessing that based on the last shop or on what your Scott likes?” Scott asked.

“Both. Am I right?” He was still gathering information. Then again, Scott was, too.

“You’re right,” he confirmed. “Something easy to move in, too.”

Other-Gordon let out a chuckle as he pulled into a parking lot. Scott missed the name of the place. “The fellas are gonna have something to say when they see it,” he mused. Scott raised an eyebrow at him; he hadn’t forgotten the ginger’s own reaction to the idea. “Well, we should be able to get the jeans and hoodie here.”

“Sounds good.” Scott was already impatient for the trip to be over. It had nothing to do with Other-Gordon – his company was about as good as he could have expected to get – and everything to do with the ill-timed realisation of his situation. He watched Other-Gordon get out of the car, focusing on the lever on how it operated, before mimicking the movement on the lever his side. Other-Gordon looked amused when he finished his walk around the car to see him extracting himself.

“I should have figured you wouldn’t need help a second time,” he commented. “But remember, you lost a bet and don’t want to be here. Try not to look too enthusiastic.”

“Decided on the bet, yet?” Scott asked him, and Other-Gordon sent him a look. From the gleam in his eye, he knew exactly what bet had supposedly been lost, and it was not going to be something either he or Other-Scott was happy about. That look was dangerous on Gordon, and it was no doubt equally so on the ginger in front of him. “Going to tell me?”

The grin said no, he wasn’t. Scott sighed.

“If we’re going to hit the paparazzi, it’ll be here,” Other-Gordon told him instead. “Remember, head down, mouth shut, let me do all the talking.”

Scott nodded, remembering Other-Scott saying something similar back on the island. Gordon can handle the paparazzi.

“And Scott,” the aquanaut continued, his voice quieter. Calmer, reminiscent of the fitting rooms at Lemaires’. “If you need to get out, tap me four times.” It was Scott’s turn to give the younger man a look; after the almost disaster with the shirts, a signal was a good idea, but knowing that Other-Gordon thought they needed to establish one implied that he wasn’t hiding his unease as well as he was hoping.

“Four for Four?” At least it was easy to remember, on the chance he would need it. He sincerely hoped not.

“Four for Four,” Other-Gordon confirmed, a small grin on his face, before that grin transformed back into the amused cat got the cream of a younger brother who’d got one over on an older brother and was entirely too satisfied about it.

In a way, Scott supposed he had. It didn’t make him any happier about it, and the wary looks he was sending the younger man weren’t entirely for show as Other-Gordon confidently led the way to the front door of the shop and strode in as though he owned it. Scott was left with no choice but to trail behind him and try to ignore the gawks of what looked like the entire shop.

The stunned silence appeared to have blanketed over everyone, all eyes on the two Tracys making their way to the nearest salesperson, and it was several long seconds before anyone else in the shop moved. Hissed words accompanied the hubbub as life slowly trickled back into the shop. Scott was certain he heard Tracys muttered in an astonished undertone.

This really wasn’t their usual shop, it appeared. That was a pain, because as Scott looked around, he could see that the clothes here looked the most like the clothes he liked. Polos and jeans lined the shelves, and Scott immediately flagged multiple that he’d willingly wear.

Not being allowed to talk was suddenly a real pain.

“Mr Tracy and Mr Tracy, what an unexpected pleasure!” The salesman Other-Gordon had beelined for was doing little to cover his surprise, which worked in Scott’s favour as the title put him on edge, but Other-Gordon just flashed him a grin.

“Mr Tracy would be our father. Call me Gordon, and this is Scott,” he corrected, much to Scott’s relief. He’d never got used to being called Mr Tracy.

“As you wish, Gordon, Scott,” the man – his name tag said George – adjusted. He still looked a little star struck. “What would bring the illustrious Tracys to our shop?”

Gordon’s grin widened, if that was even possible. “This fella thought it’d be smart to bet I couldn’t beat the whole family in billiards,” he announced, loud enough that the whole shop no doubt heard it. Scott sent him a glare – he was better than Gordon at the game, and he suspected that held true in this universe as well. Other-Gordon wouldn’t be so gleeful otherwise. “The loser got a wardrobe makeover of the winner’s choice.” He shrugged. “I won, so Scott here needs some new clothes, if you could help with that?”

“But of course,” George scrambled to say. “What would you be after?”

“Well, Scott’s wardrobe is lacking in jeans, for the first.” He made it sound natural, not quite alienating the people shopping there while making it perfectly clear that Tracys didn’t normally wear them. “And I think one or two of your polos would be just the thing.”

Scott started – he’d never said polos. Other-Gordon must have caught him looking at them.

“Gee, no need to look quite so horrified, Scott,” the ginger commented. “George here might think you don’t want them!” He turned back to the man, who still looked rather out of his depth. “Poor fella lost his voice last night, so he can’t make his own comments.”

Scott rolled his eyes, and the ginger beamed.

“Luckily for him, I know exactly what he needs!”

“Right, of course,” the unfortunate George stammered. “If you’d like to follow me, then… sirs?”

“Lead the way,” Other-Gordon invited, and they were led into something that looked a lot like it was normally an office, and not open to the general public. It was a far cry from the lavish customer furnishings of the last place.

“What would you like to look at first?” George clearly had no idea which Tracy he was supposed to be addressing, from the way his eyes kept flicking between them. Scott decided to have a little pity on the man and leaned backwards, effectively removing himself from the conversation. Other-Gordon helped by leaning forwards, drawing more attention to himself.

“I think the jeans would be a good place to start. Could you fetch some examples?” he prompted.

“Of course. What size would you like to try?”

Other-Gordon answered without hesitation, leaving Scott to assume he had his brother’s sizes memorised, and George all but fled from the room, leaving the two of them alone. The door closed, and immediately Other-Gordon pressed up next to him.

“Which polos were you looking at?” he asked, quietly.

Scott told him, before raising a quizzical eyebrow. “You’re not complaining?”

“Aw, polos aren’t so bad. Scott has one or two himself, you know. Besides, I’d say it makes the story more convincing if we get a full outfit or two from here.”

He had a point.

The door opened again, and George entered, one arm laden with jeans. Well, they all looked the right size at least. With any luck, they wouldn’t need fitting.

Scott could live in hope.

“Do any of these suit?” the sales assistant asked, hanging them up one after the other on a rack against the wall. Scott eyed them all, suspecting that Other-Gordon was more likely to be paying attention to his reactions than the clothes themselves.

None of them were exactly like he was used to, but he supposed that was to be expected, considering the overall differences between the universes – and he was not going to think too hard on that one right now. Instead, they seemed to be geared more towards being form-fitting, not quite ‘skinny’, but definitely a lot tighter than the ones he wore at home. A couple of styles even seemed to be flared at the hem, a design that hadn’t been in fashion since Grandma’s time, and looked completely useless for doing any sort of exercise in without tripping over them.

He dismissed those immediately.

“You know, Scott, you’ve got to pick at least one,” Other-Gordon drawled. “A forfeit’s a forfeit, you know.”

So Other-Gordon was going to let him take the silent lead on this one? That made it easier, if nothing else. Scott stepped forwards, sorting through them one at a time until he found a pair that looked like they wouldn’t completely constrict his movement, and took it off of the rail.

“There is a changing room just through that door, if you’d like to try them on,” George offered, gesturing at a door set into the far wall. Scott nodded, and started to head for it. Movement from Other-Gordon made him pause, and he glanced at the ginger to see a querying look on his face.

Right. Last time he’d been out of the other man’s sight, he’d had a panic attack. Other-Gordon had good reason to be cautious, but Scott didn’t feel any warning signs of an impending one this time, so he shot him a reassuring grin before opening the door and walking through.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Scott waited a split second to make sure he didn’t suddenly descend into panic – not that he planned on calling Other-Gordon if he did; once was more than enough – before hurrying to get changed. The jeans were infinitely more comfortable than Other-Scott’s slacks, but that was to be expected. Scott wasn’t particularly fond of slacks.

They also fit pretty much perfectly. No ankles showing, but also not falling to the floor and getting caught underfoot. Other-Gordon also clearly did know his brother’s waist size, because it wasn’t too tight or falling down. The only problem was that they were a little tighter, particularly around the thighs, than he was used to, but that looked to just be a universal difference he’d just have to get used to.

Or hopefully not, because he wanted to go home sooner rather than later. His family must have discovered his disappearance by now and-

He cut that train of thought right there. There was going to be no more breakdowns in changing rooms, so he busied himself with making one last assessment of the jeans before pushing the door back open.

Other-Gordon was looking straight at the door, George nowhere in sight, and Scott knew he didn’t imagine the flash of relief on his face before amber eyes flicked down to the jeans.

“George went to start picking up polos,” he explained. “Everything alright?”

That was an obviously double-layered question, and Scott answered both with a single nod.

“Fabulous,” Other-Gordon grinned. “You’ll need more than one pair, though. Different colours of that one or different styles?”

Open-ended questions needed verbal answers; Scott glanced at the door leading to the rest of the store – still closed – before answering.

“Mostly colours,” he said. “If there’s another style that fits, I’ll take that, but I think this is the closest I’ll get. Not perfect, but…” He shrugged.

“Alright,” Other-Gordon nodded. “The rack’s still there, if you want to take another gander.” Well, there was no harm in that, even if Scott was dubious about finding any more practical ones amongst the too-tight and flared-hem designs dominating the selection.

There wasn’t. Maybe that was Scott also just wanting this trip to be over with, even if it meant speeding up his next no doubt probing conversation with one of the Other-Tracys, but he didn’t like the look of any of the others. He said as much to Other-Gordon, who took on that calculating look that was quickly becoming familiar, and not just because he’d seen it on Gordon too many times to count. Another piece in the puzzle for the ginger. Scott wondered what sort of picture he was putting together.

He also didn’t want to know.

“You’ll need quite a few of that one, if that’s the case,” Other-Gordon reminded him. “We can get you more later, if we can convince Scott to pretend he likes the clothes after all, but I’d say you need five or six.”

Scott nodded, but hoped they wouldn’t need to get more. He knew Other-John had said it could take years – a prediction that had something uncomfortable curling in his gut if he thought about it, because if time moved linearly in both universes then that was years with his family not knowing what had happened to him, just like with Dad but worse, and he couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t. They’d hold it together because his little brothers were strong, but it would hurt them. It would hurt them so, so much.

“So, colours.” Other-Gordon’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the room and the jeans and away from the thoughts running rampart through his head. From the look on the other man’s face, he’d noticed that his mind had wandered. Scott still wasn’t sure if he liked how easily Other-Gordon seemed to be able to read him, but he supposed that was better than another breakdown.

He really had to get a grip.

“We should ask how many shades of blue these chaps can offer,” the aquanaut continued as the door opened. “I’d suppose there’s quite the variety.”

“We do have a variety of colours available,” George assured them, now carrying a stack of polos in various shades and colours. Some of them made Scott’s eyes water just to look at them. “Have you found anything?”

“I’d say what he’s wearing looks jolly good,” Other-Gordon said. “What shades of blue can you do on those?”

“Well, we have five shades available,” the sales assistant said. “I would have to check how many are in stock in Mr- er, Scott’s size.”

“He’ll have one of each,” Other-Gordon said. “If they’re not in stock, you can order them in, can’t you?”

“Of course! It may take some time for them to arrive, but we can definitely arrange that.”

Other-Gordon grinned. Scott swallowed back against threatening thoughts about time. “Fabulous! Now, how about those polos?”

At the full force of a Gordon who knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it – Scott pitied George for that; Other-Gordon was proving to be as much of an occasional bulldozer as Gordon when it suited him and was definitely enjoying the lack of a restraining older brother stopping him – the man had little choice but to lay the offerings out for the pair of them to look at.

Scott instantly dismissed the ones that hurt his eyes to look at. Unlike the jeans, which despite being made of denim and therefore technically still jeans were cut in styles that were nothing like the ones he was used to, the polos looked a lot more familiar. He had no qualms about trimming the selection by the colours of the examples he was being shown, even if that was a shallow reason.

He still didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be on the island – preferably his Tracy Island, in his universe, and not stuck here trying to find clothes for his inevitably long stay in a world where strangers wore his family’s names, personalities, and even looks.

“This one?” Other-Gordon cut in again, appearing beside him and reaching for a blue one he hadn’t pushed aside yet. Scott blinked and realised his hands had stilled on the rack. Sharp amber eyes were watching him carefully, one of the man’s arms close enough to his hand that he’d brush it if he moved his fingers the right way.

Scott purposefully didn’t touch, keeping an inch or so of air between them in a clear but silent message to Other-Gordon. He was not giving up on the trip. Instead he poked and prodded at the polo in question. It looked worth a try, so he unhooked the hanger from the rack and let the material fall over his arm.

There was a decidedly disapproving air from the man next to him, but Other-Gordon didn’t say anything. Scott didn’t acknowledge it either, dragging his mind back on task and brushing through the rest of the polos on the rack until he had a sizeable pile folded over his arm.

With no excuse, Other-Gordon couldn’t justify following him into the changing room, but it was abundantly obvious that he wanted to. Scott just wanted this to be over with, so when the ginger grinned at him and proclaimed that he wanted to see every single one, he glared at him.

Other-Gordon wasn’t perturbed in the slightest, chivvying him towards the door and ignoring George as he stood redundantly by the dismissed polos. “For your favourite brother?” he wheedled, before a grin lit up his face. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Scott could tell it was only a show for their audience anyway. “Remember, this is a forfeit, Scott!”

For my own peace of mind, that translated as. Reading the subtext behind the younger man’s words was as natural as breathing to Scott, which he put down to the similarities between the two Gordons. He rolled his eyes in an attempt to persuade Other-Gordon that he was fine and not on the edge of another panic attack, before slipping back into the room and shutting the door in his face.

A little rude, and definitely coming off as ungrateful – he wasn’t; he knew it came from care and if their positions were reversed he would absolutely be doing the same if he hadn’t just overridden all protests and taken them back to the airport already – but Scott really didn’t want to be hovered over.

The waistcoat and shirt were shrugged off, hat and sunglasses temporarily removed, before he yanked the first polo on with more aggression than the action really deserved. Scott grit his teeth. He really had to get himself back under control. Other-Gordon had good reason to be worried, and the fact that they were technically strangers was doing nothing to temper it. But then, what did he expect? He was still an operative of International Rescue.

Other-Gordon was also one of the few people in the universe that he was even vaguely comfortable around. Alienating him would do more harm than good.

With a sigh, he tugged the hat and sunglasses back on and opened the door to dutifully show the polo. It fit fine, he supposed. Not too baggy, but not restrictive, either. It was definitely better than any shirts he’d worn so far in the universe.

Unsurprisingly, Other-Gordon was more interested in his face than his clothes, clearly checking him over for signs of another spiral. Scott hoped he didn’t look too terrible; whatever the other man saw, he didn’t comment on.

“Well that looks pretty fine, wouldn’t you say?” he said instead to George, who jumped at being suddenly addressed again and nodded vigorously.

“Very good, sir,” he agreed. Scott shrugged a noncommittal agreement, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this trip – he wasn’t, but not because of the clothes – and retreated back to the changing room to try on the next.

In the end there were eight polos in the original selection, and six of them in the pile Other-Gordon was setting aside with the approved jeans. From the look on George’s face, he hadn’t been expecting quite so many purchases but also wasn’t complaining at all. Scott wondered if sales assistants still got commissions on their sales in this universe.

“That’s a fine collection.” Other-Gordon looked positively gleeful, but Scott supposed that made some sense. Even if it was all a ruse, as far as the world was going to be concerned, he’d got one over on his eldest brother. In a way, he actually had, even if it had been with Other-Scott’s begrudging blessing. “But I’d say there’s still something missing, wouldn’t you, Scott?”

Scott had started to wonder if Other-Gordon was going to try and force the shopping trip to a premature conclusion by skipping the hoodie, but to his relief it seemed as though that was still on the cards. Burying the relief behind a long history of catering to little brother whims, he just rolled his eyes and let his shoulders slump a little.

Other-Gordon beamed.

“What this needs,” he told George with enough glee that Scott almost forgot he’d been dubious about the idea in the first place, “is a hoodie. Wouldn’t you agree?” He wasn’t looking at Scott, but rather a George who suddenly looked entirely too much like a deer in headlights.

“You- you’d like to view our hoodie collection?” he stammered, clearly believing that he’d misheard. “But…” The look he shot Scott spoke volumes, enforcing Other-Gordon’s earlier proclamation that hoodies were workman’s clothes and certainly nothing that someone of the Tracy’s social standing would be seen dead in.

Other-Gordon’s smile turned the slightest bit predatory. Scott suspected that was actually aimed at his poor brother’s reputation than anyone in the room, but it didn’t stop George blanching.

“He did lose a bet.”

“Yes, of course.” Scott really hoped they were going to compensate this poor man for the mental stress he was being put through. “Would you like me to fetch some examples?”

“I was thinking something a little more unique for my brother,” Other-Gordon corrected, and Scott recalled that Other-Scott had insisted on custom made. Personally, he’d have been happy with something off the shelf if it fit and was comfortable, but as far as compromises went, it could have been a lot worse. “I heard this shop offers custom tailoring?”

“We do, but I will have to consult with my manager about hoodies,” George hedged. “If you gentlemen would excuse me…” When neither of them protested, he escaped the room. Scott winced.

“They’ll agree,” Other-Gordon said confidently. “Money talks in places like this.”

“As long as we don’t give the employees a heart attack first,” Scott muttered. “George seems… stressed.”

Other-Gordon sighed. “With any luck, the fella will calm down once his manager’s in the picture. I don’t like it any more than you do, Scott, but for the sake of appearances easing up on the guy isn’t an option.”

Cover story. Right.

“How about you?” the aquanaut asked suddenly. “Are you going to be okay for another fitting?”

“I’m fine,” Scott assured him. It came out sounding almost believable. Almost. A judging ginger eyebrow rose.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule and refuse to admit when you’re anything less than A-One,” Other-Gordon informed him. Scott got the feeling those were Other-Scott traits he was – admittedly correctly – associating with him. “You trust me to know my limits, so it would be a mighty help if you’d show me the same courtesy.”

You do realise we’re on the same side? His words from Thunderbird One’s hangar ran through Scott’s head.

“Talk to me, Scott. You holding up?”

They had known each other barely a handful of hours. Scott was acutely aware that he trusted International Rescue to do what they could to help him, but also that that same trust was not yet cemented between him and the individuals within the organisation. Other-Gordon was the closest he’d got, mostly through exposure but also because the ginger had respected the boundaries once they’d been felt out.

That trust was still a small, fragile thing. Scott could almost see the thread in front of him, barely a hair thick and easily broken. The wrong move would snap it, and then where would he be? Both sides needed that trust to maximise their chances of getting him home.

Not that Scott was going to be blindly handing it out – Other-Alan had shown nothing but distaste for him so far, and Not-Dad brought up too many conflicting thoughts and emotions for trust to be on the cards any time soon – but to Other-Gordon?

“I can handle it,” he promised. “Honestly…” he trailed off, trying to find the words and push past his natural inclination to keep the truth buried where it wouldn’t worry younger brothers, but that word was enough to get Other-Gordon’s back straightening. “Honestly, stopping and having to come back later would be worse.” He’d take panic attacks in changing rooms over going back with the shopping half finished and having to explain the failure, especially to Not-Dad.

More than anyone else, he knew that if he showed weakness in front of Not-Dad, something would break.

“Then it’s a good thing the fellas don’t need us back any time soon,” Other-Gordon said matter-of-factly. A hand rested on his shoulder, the touch light but there. “We can take as many breaks as you need until we’re done.”

Scott felt like he’d just fallen off of a cliff, hoping he had a grapple pack left to catch himself with, only for Other-Gordon to grab his hand and haul him back up. It should be disconcerting that he’d been read so easily, even with the bare bones he’d managed to share, but the overwhelming feeling of relief washed away any lingering unease.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“Thank you,” Other-Gordon replied, a gentle look on his face.

Chapter 10>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #gordon tracy

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

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Irreverent Pt. 31 - Sundress

Title: Irreverent Pt. 31 - Sundress Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 2108

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd woken up extra early the next day, a bundle of nerves. Hotch had said he'd pick you up around eleven after dropping off Jack at Rossi's. The night before, as you tossed and turned in excitement, you had realized that this was your first date since Foyet happened. Between work, making sure Aaron and Jack were alright, and then all the family stuff you'd dealt with, dating had been on the back burner. Then again, you couldn't imagine having dated anyone but Aaron in the intermediate.

Since you'd been up extra early, you had time to prep for dinner later with Rossi and Jack. You'd managed to cut all of the vegetables and marinate the meat, along with actually get ready for the date itself. When the knock finally came at your door - right at eleven - you felt your heartrate increase.

You went to go open the door and there was Aaron Hotchner, holding a small bouquet of dahlias - who does that anymore? He was dressed in jeans and a dark polo and he smiled and he looked so good.

"Hi," you said, opening the door wider to let him.

"Hello," he responded, his voice low and happy, "you look beautiful."

"Thanks." You looked down at the sundress you'd chosen to wear since you rarely got a chance to wear dresses on the job. He handed you the flowers so you could put them in a vase with water.

Once you'd put the flowers in the center of the kitchen island, you turned back to him, catching him watching you. The two of you had really only kissed the one time in his office so far. But no time like the present.

"You ready to head out?" he asked, as you approached him.

"Mmhm, almost," you smiled as you got to him and went up on your toes to press a light kiss on his lips. You must've awakened something in him, as he responded immediately his hands finding your waist, and before you knew it he'd picked you up and placed you on the island, his lips still on yours, his tongue peaking out to tease your lower lip. You opened your mouth slightly and granted him access and he took full advantage, exploring your mouth and nipping just barely at your lips. You could feel the warmth pooling in your stomach and couldn't help your legs winding around his waist, your ankles crossed together, holding him to you as your hands found their way into his hair. His hands quickly moved to your thighs, holding them firmly around him as he continued to fervently kiss you. You had to finally break for air with a gasp and you looked at him, his eyes following yours, you felt yourself color at how absolutely beautifully wrecked he looked. Both of you were breathing hard. His hand came around to your face and pulled gently at a curl that had fallen out of place.

"We should probably get going," he said, his tone suggesting that if you two didn't leave right then, things were going to escalate quite a bit more. You nodded, unwinding yourself from around him and reached out to fix his hair, after which he helped you jump down from the counter. He did not, however, let go of your hand.

You allowed him to lead you out the door where he opened the door to his car for you and helped you inside. When he got into the driver's side and started the car, his hand found yours and then didn't let go again until he pulled into the parking lot of a national park.

Once you were both standing outside, he reached into the trunk and grabbed picnic basket and blanket and then reached for your hand again. You grabbed the blanket from him against his protests but fixed him with a look so he relented.

"So, where are we?" you asked as he led you down a small pathway, your hands intertwined together. You were glad you wore wedges instead of real heels but Aaron was still being careful to make sure you could walk easily.

"I used to come here a lot when Haley and I first moved to DC," he explained, as he walked slightly ahead of you, clearing a path. "Our old apartment isn't too far and I'd come here to run, but haven't been back in years since we moved. I thought you might like it." As he said that, the path opened up to a clearing and you had a view of a gorgeous lake with a grass covered lawn surrounding it. As your day off happened to be a weekday, there weren't too many people around, but your could imagine the place would be bustling with families on a weekend.

"Aaron, it's gorgeous," you gushed, squeezing his hand as he led you to a small path of grass under a tree where you'd have a full view of the lake.

He grabbed the blanket from you and the two of you set up underneath the large tree. He'd packed a full spread of food including sandwiches and a bottle of white wine. As the two of you settled in and ate, you couldn't help but feel a little relieved at how easy it felt. You were both trying and you were both a little shy but all in all it was the two of you and now when you wanted to just brush your fingers against his arm, you could.

The sun was warming you and a gentle breeze was picking as you finished eating and moved to lean against the tree, completely stuffed. Good thing I wore a dress.

"Thank you," you murmured to him as he scooched around to come sit perpendicular to you so you two could see each other closer. His lips are slightly upturned and you find yourself cupping his face and gently kissing him. When you move back, his eyes are still closed and he has the absolute longest lashes. You'd never been the person who ever initiated in the past but with him it was so easy and you really couldn't stop yourself if you tried.

He laid down with his head in your lap as the two of you enjoyed the nice weather. Your hand carded through his hair while he held your other in his. You asked him about his family that he never seemed to talk about. You knew he didn't care much for his father but he told you about Sean. About how Sean was the favorite but he still felt a responsibility to keep his baby brother out of trouble. How he hadn't shown up to Haley's funeral and that had really made Aaron take stock of their relationship. His voice hitched when he talked about Haley and you could tell he was feeling a little awkward talking about her with you. You reassured him that Haley would always be a part of his life and Jack's life and you wouldn't ever want to change that. He relaxed a little more at that. Having Aaron Hotchner so relaxed under your touch was something you'd definitely cherish.

The two of you bided the afternoon away at the park just sitting and talking and occasionally kissing. As it drew closer to evening you packed up and made your way back to your place to start preparing dinner. Rossi would be bringing Jack soon and Aaron wanted to be sure that dinner was ready by then. You'd briefly discussed what to tell Jack and had a rough idea but were going to wait until the next time he was over for a playdate to talk to him about it together.

When you got home, you cleaned up as Hotch started getting ready in the kitchen. You'd changed into something comfier for home and grabbed a bottle of water and hopped up on the counter as you watched him grab everything from the fridge. "You need any help?"

"No, I'm alright. You just sit there and look pretty," he joked, resulting in you sticking your tongue out at him. The last time you'd been here before this morning had been when your Mother had dropped by. He noticed your contemplative face as he asked what you were thinking.

"Just that the last time we were here, so was my Mother. Kind of crazy to think how much has changed."

"Mmhm," he agreed. "All changes for the better, though," he said, coming to stand in front of you and quickly kissing you. You smiled into the kiss.

"Actually," he said, pulling away, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, "speaking of your Mother," he spoke slowly and hesitantly, "I remember that day when she was talking to you about Matthew."

"Uh huh."

He was gauging you carefully as he continued. "She mentioned something about deficiencies and you flinched when she said that, as if she was attacking something directly." He noticed you wince. "If you don't want to talk about it -"

"No," you stopped him, but you weren't quite looking at him either. "No, um…I'm sorry." You took a quick shallow breath. "I - um - I was going to tell you, but I just wasn't sure what the right time was for something like that."

You looked up to see his concerned face as he ran his hands soothingly down side of your thighs.

You continued, "Back when I was in my last year of college - I was already engaged to Matthew."

Aaron was nodding attentively, and you could tell he was bracing himself but keeping the focus on making you comfortable.

"We were coming back from something - a party - and I should've driven, but I didn't, he did."

"He was drunk," he inferred. You saw his jaw tighten.

Your voice was shaking a bit as you spoke, but you really wanted to tell him. "Yeah, he was. We were in an accident and I got hurt pretty badly. They had to operate and well...there is a strong chance I can't have children. " You watched as he looked a bit surprised and he was about to say something, but you chose to continue and just get it out. "My Mother felt I should be grateful that he wanted to be with me still. She was wrong though - he never let me forget how lucky I was that he was still choosing to be with me." The last few words were very quiet and you'd never told anyone that before. How he'd constantly reminded you of your failure. How you should feel grateful that a man would still look at you. Your relationship had been over long before you found out about your father's true nature.

Hotch was very quiet as he continued to touch you soothingly. You felt compelled to fill the silence. "You don't have to say anything, I know it's a lot, and I'd understand if - "

He cut you off with a quick kiss, soft and full of meaning. When he pulled away he looked right at you as he held you in front of him. "I am so sorry, sweetheart."

He was trying very hard to hold it together, knowing that your mother had thrown this obviously very painful event in your face. Hotch was surprised but then he thought back to how easily you'd taken to Jack and how quickly the two of you had bonded. He realized this must be especially painful given how much you loved kids - you'd be an amazing mom. You already were around Jack. He'd never really considered more kids but knew it would be a possibility if he were ever with someone else.

You smiled a bit, letting him know it was okay, that he didn't need to say anything else, but he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "When we decide if we want more kids, we'll figure it out then, but I don't want you to worry about this, not with me, not with us." His face was earnest and kind and this must be what it feels like to have someone love you.

"I know," you whispered, your fingers bunching up in his shirt. "To be honest, I really wasn't worried, I just felt guilty I hadn't told you," you confided, your voice low as your forehead touched his.

"That's alright," he whispered softly. You could feel his warm breath on your face. "And hey, for now, we have Jack, and he keeps us plenty busy."

You laughed, pulling him in to you again.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x you #hotchner imagine #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x you #hotch x y/n #irreverentseries

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haddonfieldproject · 3 years

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

WARREN COUNTY/CARPENTER COUNTY LINE, ILLINOIS

Twenty Seven Hours Later

“Oh god!” The Governor turned from the Mustang with a hand over her mouth, her face suddenly pale.

“Oh jesus fuck!”

She took off across the roadway, running has fast as her flats would carry her. One of those shiny black shoes slipped on the wet asphault causing her to teeter, but she did not fall. She reached the tall wet grass on the opposite side of the road, bent, and proceeded to vomit in the ditch there. Salazar hurried after her.

Meeker and McGrath gave each other a tired look, and then looked back to the wreck. They barely noticed the white truck pull up behind them and Fred Colbourne hop out. A siren wailed in front of them as another Carpenter County Fire Department vehicle joined the other one and ejected six or seven more fire fighters in full yellow and orange regalia.

McGrath pointed to the crumpled body which lay in the middle of the road, atop the white lines.

“That's definitely Lloyd Chumway there,” he said morosely, “And this one here in the drivers seat...that's Lee.”

Meeker spit. “Pretty well intact, considering.”

“Well, they were in a pretty nice truck.” McGrath said, glancing over to the Governor who had now dropped to her knees. Salazar held her gently by the shoulders. She was still wretching.

“It's Booger's truck,” Meeker replied softly.

“The cook from the diner? The one with his head in the..”

Meeker cut him off, “Yep.”

“What about the kids in the Mustang? Can you ID them?” McGrath asked, walking around to the other side of the orange sports-car.

“Well,” Meeker took a deep breath, “This is Brad Doyle's mustang. He's pretty well known by the police around here. Not a bad kid.” He spit again, “But not a very good one either.”

McGrath's eyes panned across the headless torso in the driver's seat clad in a blood soaked Code Orange shirt. Bits of blood, bone, and brain lay all over the steel bumper of the truck which had completley intruded upon the cab of the Mustang. Some of it belonged to Brad, some belonged to the mess of a carcass that lay in the center of the car beside him. There was nothing but a heap of blood, skin, bones, and some sort of leopard print clothing. Another crumpled body lay in the backseat. Young female, her head turned around the wrong way on her neck. She was missing her legs.

“Do you know these other two occupants?” McGrath asked.

“The one in the backseat is Kyndra Bailey. I'm guessing this one,” he gulped as he looked over the tattered remains, “this one is probably Zoey Gonland, her girlfriend. They liked to hang out with Brad.”

McGrath looked up from the other side of the car, “More trouble makers?”

“They were good kids. A little bit of the talk of the town, but good kids.”

McGrath shook his head, “I don't follow.”

“A high school lesbian couple in a small town like this. Everyone knows them.”

“Jesus God Almighty,” Fred Colbourne said as he stepped up to the wreck beside them.

Another man, this one tall and thin with short brown hair, a yellow polo shirt and khaki pants also appeared beside them. Meeker looked at him. The man extended his hand.

“I'm Shelton Ganoux, the Carpenter County Medical Examiner. They called for me as soon as they arrived.” The man said, nodding a head to the fire fighters who were laboring around the wreck of the semi-truck and ambulance.

“And we here in Warren County greatly appreciate your help,” Meeker said, shaking the young man's hand firmly. “We've had one hell of a night over here and our boys are a little tied up.”

Ganoux half-bowed his head, “So I've heard.”

“What the hell happened out here,” Colbourne asked.

The Governor and Salazar re-appeared next to them. The Governor pulled a kleenex from her pantsuit pocket and dabbed at her mouth.

“It appears we have two separate accidents, occurring within about an hour and a half of each other. The orange sports-car, the truck, and the tractor trailer incident occurred at around six o'clock this morning, while the ambulance seems to have collided with the tractor trailer at around seven thirty.”

“Makes sense,” Meeker mumbled.

“What?” Colbourne asked, “What makes sense.”

“It looks like Mustang was behind the tractor trailer and went to try and pass him when they struck the Chumway Brothers in the truck coming from the opposite direction.” McGrath said.

Meeker's phone began to vibrate in his pants. He pulled it out, hit the green button on the screen, and stuck it to his ear.

“Meeker!” He barked. The voice that answered was gruff.

“Hey Deputy, it's Lorne Appleby.”

“Who?”

“Appleby, from Protective Services.”

“Oh right. Well?”

“Nothing yet. I'm gonna head to the hotel room for some shut eye. Miss. Cromer should be back in a few hours. Just wanted to keep you abreast of the...”

“Mrs. who?”

“Cromer...Ellen Cromer...from DCF.”

Meeker rubbed his forehead. “Aww yeah..right right. I'm sorry Appleby, I got a million things going on right now.”

“I know, I know. Like I said, just wanted to keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Who do I got over there now?”

“Officer Chang just left, Officer Stanton just arrived, two other officers in a squad car just went on patrol an hour or so ago...forgive me, I don't remember their names.”

Meeker adjusted the phone from one ear to the other. “Oh right, that's Warner and Farnsworth I think.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Meeker ended the call.

“Who was that?” Fred asked.

“Guy from Protective Services about Maddie Keane.”

“Still haven't found her?” Colbourne asked.

Meeker shook his head and waved at the wreckage in front of him. “And if it wasn't for all this shit and everything else I'd have every god damn cop out there looking for her.”

Fred patted his friend's back. “I know Bengie. I know. You're doing the best you can.”

They were quiet for awhile and Ben took some deep breaths to gather his thoughts.

“You know what I'm wondering?” Colbourne asked after some time had passed.

“What's that?” Ben replied quietly.

“How in the world did no one around here hear a wreck like that?”

“Well the only ones out here are Reverend Taylor over there,” he pointed to his right, to a house on the top of a hill, “and Amos Yoder. Amos claims to have been woken up by the second accident, he's talking to the state troopers now.” he pointed to his left, toward a dirt road leading down to a quaint little farmhouse with a big red barn. An Amish man was indeed standing along side the curb next to his driveway talking to an Illinois State Trooper who was dictating his statement on a clipboard.

“Amos said he slept right through the first accident, and I've known Kevin Taylor for years, we had sleep overs together when we were kids. He has to sleep with some kind of noise. He always brought a sound machine to my house, annoying little shit.” Meeker continued, “He sleeps with a box-fan I think. He probably couldn't hear a frieght train coming through his living room.”

“Besides that it was still raining at six o'clock this morning,” Ganoux said, “the sound of the storm could have muffled much of the noise.”

“I just can't believe Gary Windorf didn't see the over-turned tractor trailer.” Colbourne said, gesturing to the ambulance. Gary Windorf had been the driver.

“We told him to haul ass,” Meeker sighed, “it was still dark and raining.”

“Plus he was coming up from over this hill,” McGrath added, waving at the rise in the road behind them.

The Governor cleared her throat. “So we have the Chumway brothers here...where the hell is Myers? Is he in the back of that ambulance where he belongs?”

“Who is Myers?” Ganoux asked.

“Objective number one,” Meeker replied, “Big guy, jumpsuit..”

“The guy with the mask, kinda toasty?”

“That'd be him,” McGrath nodded.

“He's over there.” Ganoux pointed. Three firefighters crouched beside a body near the tree line. The figure was face down in the mud only a few feet from the trailer of Gabriel Couture's truck. “It appears the patient was thrown from the ambulance.”

“But he's dead?” Meeker asked.

“Very much so. He hit a tree in mid air.” Ganoux replied.

“He was dead before he was even put in the ambulance,” Colbourne grunted.

“Well, I can't tell that. I'd need to do a full autopsy to do that.” Ganoux said.

“Forget that,” The Governor spat, “Get his ass in a body bag and let's get it back to the High School. Get all these bodies over there so we can...”

She was interrupted by the sound of approaching vehicles. The whole party turned as a black GMC Van pulled up behind the firetrucks. In the distance, it looked as if the van had been followed by a train of semi-trucks. The truck tractors where plain white with no lettering, while the trailers were gray, and also blank. The hiss of the parking brakes sounded off one at a time.

The doors of the GMC Van opened. Several almost identical looking Caucasian men in black suits stepped out. They seemed to be led by another man, who had climbed out of the passenger side of the van. He was older than the others, judging by the gray in his hair.

The older gentlemen stepped up and extended his hand to the Governor.

“Governor Harris?” He asked simply.

“I am,” The Governor replied, taking his hand.

“I'm Dick Spencer, Director of the Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team for Region Five.”

“How do you do?” The Governor asked with a forced smile. “This is Deputy McGrath of the---”

Spencer cut her off and pulled a piece of paper from the inside breast pocket of his coat, “Did you request Federal Response?”

“Yes sir, we've had a bad night in this town---” The Governor started but again, Spencer cut her off.

“And you are fully aware that in so doing, you have allowed the Department of Homeland Security to begin to conduct an investigation into the order, as to the reasons why such an order would be placed pursuant to Guideline 542, section B, article F?”

The Governor looked at Meeker and then to McGrath, who took the roll of papers from Agent Spencer. “Yes sir..I am aware of the...”

“Excellent then,” Spencer looked down at the papers and began to thumb through them, “I have two affidavits for your law enforcement officers here to fill out. They must be in precise detail as to the events that transpired over the night , and why you would need to place an order for a portable refrigeration unit for casualty victims.” He looked at McGrath, “You need to fill one out as does this local officer...Officer----???”

Meeker took one of the papers, “Deputy Sheriff Ben Meeker.”

“Meeker,” Spencer nodded, “I also have a battery of questions we need to go over, but first I have three questions.”

McGrath took the other paper, “Yeah, shoot.”

“Do you or do you not want to be a big pain in my ass today?” Spencer asked.

McGrath laughed in spite of himself. “What?”

“I'm not aware that I said anything amusing Agent?” Spencer replied, cutting a look to Meeker and then back at McGrath, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass today?”

“No sir,” McGrath replied.

Spencer looked back at Meeker, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass Deputy Sheriff?”

“No sir,” Meeker replied.

“Excellent,” Spencer said, “Now let's get something straight. I don't want to be here, okay?”

Meeker and McGrath nodded.

“You are aware that last night was Halloween?” Spencer asked.

Meeker and McGrath looked at one another, not sure how to answer. McGrath was brave enough to try. “Well—yes...”

“Do little girls and boys play dress up on Halloween?” Spencer asked.

The two men looked at each other again and then replied in unison: “Yes sir,”

“You know who else plays dress up?”

Meeker and McGrath looked at each other a third time and then back at Spencer and shook their heads.

“Russian mail order brides play dress up,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. “Just hours ago, I was playing dress up with my Russian mail order bride, and you can imagine what kind of activities proceed playing dress up and drinking Vodka and 7-Up all night. And you can imagine how doing these things would be very taxing for a man my age, couldn't you?”

“Yes sir,” the men replied.

“I would like nothing better than to be back in my bed, in my Chicago penthouse, with Katya on my ‪Saturday morning‬. But instead, I'm called out to this piss-ant little town in the Storm-of-the-fuckin'-century. You can imagine how that would put me in a bad mood, correct?”

“Yes sir,” the men agreed.

“If there is any thing between those two affidavits that doesn't match up, or if there is anything that has transpired in this town that isn't cherry, or if the two of you aren't one hundred percent crystal clear and straight with me and obedient to my will like two little golden retriever puppy dogs, I will have Washington DC on my ass, and I don't want ‪Washington DC‬ on my ass for anything, and that will turn you into a big pain in the ass for me, and we don't want that now do we?”

“No sir,” they responded.

“I want to get this over with so I can go back home and enjoy my weekend, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” Spencer pointed to the trucks, “Second question,” he said, “Where is the mobile refrigeration unit going to be erected?”

McGrath stuttered and looked at Meeker.

Meeker swallowed and said, “Best place I guess would be the parking lot of the high school...we've already set up a field---.”

“You guess?” Spencer stammered.

“Yes sir,” The Governor cut in, “The parking lot of the High School is where we want it.”

“What high school? I need a name people! I need an address!” Spencer's volume level went up a notch.

“It's Haddonfield High School, on the corner of Belmont and Main Street,” Meeker said.

“Well is it Belmont or Main Street?!” Spencer nearly roared.

“‪248 Belmont Avenue‬,” Meeker responded calmly.

“Got it,” one of the accompanyng men in black suits said quietly, and then they all turned to walk toward the first truck.

“Third question,” Spencer said, his volume level returning to normal, “is there a police station in this god-forsaken town that we conduct business in, or do we rednecks like to stand out in the road and play with our dicks in front of a bunch of mangled car accident victims?”

“I have two of my boys setting up a big tent in the parking lot of the hospital. That's gonna be ground zero for now until that scene gets under control and we can shift everything to the high school.” Meeker replied.

“The tent we use for the exhibitions on fair days and stuff. The recruitment tent?” Colbourne asked.

“Exactly. Herman Beach and Chris Huber are grabbing it from the storage unit. They should be there any minute. We should probably get over there now, I think we're done here.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Spencer said, turning back toward his vehicle. “There better be coffee.”

The Governor piped up, “Don't you have a Mayor in this town somewhere? Someone is gonna have to talk to the press!”

Meeker winced.

NEXT>> (Coming Soon)

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