#and that happened to be the exact time her verdict was read | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dingdongitsbees · 3 years

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Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

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You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

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#erwin #erwin smith #erwin aot #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x y/n #erwin snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on castes #historia #historia reiss

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 4 years

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Swapped With A Kiss - Chapter Four (Tom Holland x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, language, potential smut in future chapters, a pinch of angst…I think that’s it

Word Count: 2204

Summary: You and Tom were simply meant to be. But what the hell happens when you wake up and you’re suddenly with his best friend and your life is backwards?

A/N: I’m beginning to really enjoy this buildup rn, I’m not gonna lie. Thank you all so so much for giving me such kind words about chapter three! Here’s a pinch of fluff/hope for you! I can’t wait for your feedback and I hope you guys like this so far!! Thank you xx -N (.Gif is not mine, DM me for credit)

“Oh my god, this cake is so fucking tasty,” Tom garbled into another helping of the cake they were trying out. Sighing in relief as he laughed into his second piece, “I swear to god, Y/N, this one is the best cake I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he told you as he pushed the plate closer to you to try.

“You said that about the last three, Tom,” you giggled as you picked up your fork and scooped up a small bite. You really didn’t have much of an appetite to be eating all of these amazing desserts. You wished you did. But trying to act unbothered in front of Tom was taking up all of your nerves right now.

Tom watched you meticulously, smiling as he watched your eyes light up as the piece of heavenly dessert hit your mouth, “I meant it about each one. But this one...oh good lord!” he cried out with a grin as he noticed your face.

“You’re totally right, this one is amazing too, Tom,” you agreed as you took another bite. Trying to restrain yourself from holding his hand or expecting a kiss was even harder than you thought. But you frowned a bit into the cake as you pushed the rest of it towards him to finish it off.

It felt so strange as you sat beside Tom, watching him make jokes with you and smile with you as you typically would. But the strange thing was how he didn’t feel strange about any of it, just you did. You were constantly thinking about how you wanted to go wedding cake tasting with Tom for your wedding together, but here you were. None of this felt organic and you were trying so hard to just be his friend the way he was acting.

If Tom couldn’t be the love of your life in this world, you wanted him as a friend. No matter what, having Tom in the smallest of ways in your life was better than not having him at all. You knew if the tables were turned, he would probably want the same thing. Making the best out of an awful and horrific situation because that’s how much you cared about the other.

Tom smiled at you as he took a sip of his coffee to wash down the cake he had just devoured, “So what’s the verdict?” He asked with an excited expression.

You laughed at Tom’s cake covered face, knowing you knew his favorite, “I think you sold me on the last one, Tom,” you agreed, still wanting to make him happy even though this cake clearly wasn’t for him.

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?” Tom asked as his lips curled up into a small smile at the way you were saying his name. He hadn’t ever really paid attention to you before, but the way you were calling out for him felt so odd suddenly. Almost as if you hadn't said his name in a really long time, it just felt different for him and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He was still worried about you from the other day. Tom had never seen you act that way around him and it really caught him off guard. The fearful look in your eyes, staring back at him; looking almost as if you were afraid of Tom, and that freaked him out most of all. Your eyes were screaming at him and he couldn’t figure out what was going on with you. But he hadn’t forgotten that look in your eye. He didn’t think he ever could.

“Doesn’t this all feel wrong to you? I know my Tom is in there, I fucking know it...”

Tom had known you for so long, he thought he had you completely figured out. But those words haunted him the last few days and no matter what, he just couldn’t shake them. Spending the day with you was something he was eager to do so he could try and get to the bottom of it. But now you were acting even more unusual, continuing to perplex Tom more and more.

“Oh I didn’t even realize I was doing that,” you apologized, looking at him like a deer in headlights as he called you out on your actions. Typical Tom to be so cheeky to try and figure out what was bothering you, “Sorry, To-ooh!” you stopped yourself as you put your hand over your mouth, stifling your laugh as you made Tom laugh.

“You seem distracted, Y/N,” Tom offered as he ran a hand through his curls while he took another sip of his coffee, “You know you can tell me anything. I’m your best friend,” he reminded you ever so subtly as he licked his lips and looked at you with his big brown eyes.

Taking a breath, you tried your best to shrug it off but you knew you couldn’t. Tom could always read you like an open book, this one was no exception. But you knew telling him the truth was out of the question. Especially after learning he was dating Chanel the other night and promising yourself you wouldn’t hurt Harrison. Some things were going to have to wait.

“I uh...actually, Tom, sorry!” you stammered over your words as your fingers ran through the ends of your hair nervously. You couldn’t even look him in the eye right now, you had no idea what to tell him, “I’m just not really feeling myself lately, and I-”

“...Are you having second thoughts?” Tom finished for you as he bit his lip. Why would he even put an idea like that in your head? You were marrying his best friend and were the perfect couple in his eyes. Why on earth would he even blurt out something like that to you?

Tom cleared his throat as he shook his head, “Shit...I-I’m sorry. I just meant because of the other night and you just seem a bit...absent minded,” he swallowed thickly as he tried to tiptoe around the potential minefield he was walking upon.

“No, no! I think just the stress is getting to me a bit, you know?” you tried to disguise your tone as you began to fill out your wedding cake form for the baker. You looked up at Tom in between and tried to flash him a smile, “I’m fine, Tom. I promise,” you lied, hoping this Tom wasn’t as good at detecting your lies as yours. But who were you kidding.

Nodding his head, Tom watched as you filled the form out as he thought of an idea, “Well, if you’re up to it, I have an idea that might help take your mind off of things,” he offered to you as he wriggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“I know that look,” you laughed as you handed the form to the baker along with your deposit as you both headed out of the bakery. And you did know that look, all too well, “What’s up your sleeve, Thomas?” you teased him as you followed him down the street.

--------

You let out a laugh as you sat on the floor in Tom’s apartment, laying down on your back as Tessa came right on top of you like she always did. Scratching behind her ears and getting her favorite sweet spot as she gave you the exact same treatment Tessa always did. It was comforting knowing that no matter what Tessa this was, she remembered you and loved you. And it was making you feel better.

Tessa acted so familiar and friendly with you, it made you feel like you were back to your normal life for almost a moment. Reaching up to kiss the top of her head as she remained still and gentle as she always did with you. Giving you kisses and comfort as she rested herself into your lap while you continued to scratch her head.

“You’re so good, Tess,” Tom cooed from the doorway as he watched you interact with his dog. He was surprised at how calm Tessa was with you. She was always a gentle dog with everyone but he knew how jumpy she could get. Especially around other girls. And to his surprise, Tessa was so well behaved with you. “She missed you,” Tom chuckled as he reached over the counter to grab her leash.

“I missed her too,” you laughed as you sat up straight and gently tapped the floor with your eyes on Tessa. You wondered if this sweet girl remembered the same tricks you had taught before, “Stay, Tess…” you said slowly as you pressed your palm onto the floor.

Both you and Tom kept your eye on Tessa as she slowly and gently pressed her chin onto the floor in between her paws. Her eyes opened up at you as she obeyed while you clapped your hands together proudly for cooperating.

Tom pouted at Tessa’s manners while he handed her a small treat while clasping on her leash, “All of a sudden you’re learning new tricks with Y/N. Huh, Tess?” he teased his dog with a laugh. But how come Tessa answered to you so quickly? It was so different. Tessa knew you, of course. But this was different, and it struck Tom differently. It made him happy. A different kind of happy.

“It’s so weird. She hasn’t seen you in so long and she’s acting like you’re her owner…” Tom trailed off, watching you scratch and play with his dog as you stood back up on your feet. What the hell was going on with him? You’ve hung out with him and Tessa countless times, this was no different. Why was he freaking out suddenly after you teaching her a trick?

You gave him a shrug as you grabbed the leash from him, “She clearly already knew. I just refreshed her memory was all,” you stuck your tongue out at Tom as you pushed him playfully. Acting like his best friend was the worst. But at least you got to spend the day with him and finally see Tessa. She was still your girl even though she wasn’t your girl. At least not anymore.

“I really needed this,” you told Tom with a smile as you clutched onto Tessa’s leash. It felt good to tell Tom how you felt in some way. And seeing Tom actually want to make you feel better meant the world to you. Whether he was doing it as a friend or not, you appreciated him going out of his way today, “I uh...thank you, Tom,” you finally told him with a smile.

And without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Tom and hugged him tightly. Letting out a sigh of relief as his familiar arms went around you carefully. It was just the nature of you to desire a hug, one of Tom’s hugs that always made you feel better no matter what. You tightened your grip a bit, not wanting to linger for too long so Tom wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

But as you were about to pull away, Tom pulled you back in for one more hug. He didn’t know why but there was something about that moment in which he was afraid to let you go. The smell of your shampoo taking over his nostrils as he smiled into his hug before finally exhaling, “Your happiness means so much to me, you know,” he finally whispered as he pulled away.

Tom felt his heart thud for a moment when he saw the brief frown flash across your face. Wanting to ask you why you looked that way, but chickened out and instead forced another charming smile. He couldn’t figure out what was going on with him or you. The idea of you being remotely sad nearly killed him now more than ever. There was nothing more he wanted than to make sure you were happy.

“Ye-yeah, it means a lot for you to be happy too,” you answered quietly. Flashing him a quick smile to try and hide what was going on in your jumbled brain, “You’re um like my...best friend,” that time it almost hurt to get it out.

“Best...best friend, yeah,” Tom agreed, pressing his lips together. He didn’t know why but hearing you call him that felt almost like it wasn’t true. And suddenly, he found himself even more confused and perplexed.

You both jumped when you heard a thud, turning your head towards the door as you heard the door begin to rattle open. It was Tom’s place, and you didn’t know who he did and didn’t give keys to. But you didn’t want it to be Chanel. You didn’t want your almost perfect day to be ruined by seeing Tom acting all sweet with this girl.

The sound of tiny paws pitter-pattering on the other side of the door gathered your curiosity. Pursing your lips, you watched as Monty came trotting through the door with another familiar face behind him. In your world, you’d be incredibly happy to see either of them. But seeing them take away your moment with Tom? It wasn’t what you wanted right now.

“Hey man,” Tom greeted awkwardly as he crouched down to give Monty a warm welcome, “You got done early?” he asked Harrison as he bumped his fist to say hello the way that he always did.

Tom would be lying if he said it suddenly felt different being in the room with both you and Harrison now. He couldn’t figure out why, but it felt like there was some elephant in the room trying to say something. But Tom didn’t know what that was or why. Why now?

Because he wanted to spend more time with you today. Just you.

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

aaron

summary: “some of us grow up to catch them.”

ssa hotchner. former prosecutor. unit chief of the behavioural analysis unit. best shot in the whole of the quantico building. dad to jack and his entire team.

aaron hotchner. just a boy, trying to make it through the day.

(alternatively known as the backstory, the moments between, and the hotch episode we never got)

read chapter one here!

chapter two: the moments in between

trigger warnings for this chapter : minor character deaths, death of a parent, implied/referenced child abuse, court cases involving a not guilty verdict to a charge of abuse, arson, references to cancer, references to the death of a child, vomit/sickness, references to self-harm and suicide, stabbing, canon-typical violence, blood, implied/reference drug addiction, references to domestic violence (this is between hotch's parents)

Aaron Hotchner was a lawyer full of contradictions.

He had graduated at the top of his class, but he never once referenced his own father’s abilities when he started practicing. And instead of becoming a defence lawyer- a role that would have led to him holding a position of power within weeks- he became a criminal prosecutor.

He claimed it was what called to him.

In reality, it was because he refused to let anything else be tainted by the memory of his father. He remembered the nights where his father would come home and talk about the horrible things his clients had done. He remembered how he had laughed and said he would be able to make all of those things go away with a few words. He remembered how his stomach had tightened at the injustice of it all.

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was an adult. He was as close to happy as he could be when he spent his days looking at photos of people who had lives, and hopes, and dreams that were cut short. When an ordinary day at work meant putting some bad people behind bars whilst he was forced to let others go free.

When he was in court, he was amazing. He was cold and emotionless. People genuinely believed he had no emotions, that there was nothing that could faze him. Killers and abusers would hurl insults at him, defence lawyers would pull random laws from nowhere and he would take it. He would think on his feet and come up with something. But then there were sudden moments where he would look so vulnerable. Like when he spoke to a child, a young woman, the family that thought they hadn’t done anything to save their loved one.

The only time he would smile was when the blonde woman in his life would appear. Sometimes it was with lunch, dressed semi-casually, hair slightly messy and pen on her face from whatever it was she was doing. Other times it would be in a pretty dress. Those would be the days where he would look mildly terrified for a moment, before grinning and leading her out the office. On the bad days where they would be forced to come in on a weekend, she would come in with her own work and keep him company.

Haley had gone into teaching. High school history, although she always helped with the various productions held. She was a natural with the kids, always doing her best to be understanding and helpful, instead of confrontational and harsh. Despite this, there were still nights where she would come home, not saying anything. Those nights, Aaron would wrap his arms around her and let her cry about the injustice of the system.

Those were the nights he remembered just how lucky he was that she had taken a chance on him, unlike everyone else, who had left him to suffer. He didn’t want to think about where he would’ve been without her. Or if he would’ve even been anywhere on this earth.

So their lives weren’t perfect, and he woke up screaming some nights, but they were good. They both had stable jobs in the same area, which meant they could eat dinner together and fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. Haley liked linking their hands together so she could look at their wedding rings.

The wedding had been small, more for her parents than anyone else. He still didn’t believe he was worth loving. She had always dreamt of a wedding, but with Aaron none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was him being around. Her parents however, weren’t having any of it and even offered to pay for the wedding if that was the problem.

Haley had very kindly told them to keep their money. If her and Aaron were to get married, they would do it the way they wanted to, with their savings and their budget.

In the end, the wedding had been a compromise. Haley’s entire family, all of her high school friends and sorority sisters were invited, and everyone but Meredith attended. Aaron’s mother and brother came, as well as some of his friends from law school, but the list of people he actually wanted there was even shorter than Haley’s. She refused a seating plan for that exact reason.

After they cut the cake, they managed to sneak away for a few minutes. The wedding had been outdoors. They could see the stars. And when Aaron looked at her, he fell in love all over again. He could hear the music faintly, and so he had offered his hand and they had danced, feeling like they were seventeen all over again. That night, there had been no darkness inside him. Only joy.

And as one of his favourite authors, Joseph Campbell, had written: find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

But when you saw the things he did, it was difficult to find a place where joy could survive. And even when it was there, it was temporary. Because no matter what he, and everyone else in the district attorney’s office did, the evil never stopped. There was always somebody else getting hurt. Another victim not being believed. A lawyer quitting because they couldn’t keep looking at the worst of humanity and surviving.

Aaron’s own last case haunted him years after he joined the FBI.

He had been on edge for a while. Christmas had come and gone. With it, the never-ending questions from various colleagues and family members about when he was next coming home. When was Haley going to have a baby? Were they even trying for a child? Was Aaron having some difficulties? Or worst of all, when was he going to let go of his grand delusions and silly ideas and settle down as a defence lawyer?

Returning to his real home- the apartment him and Haley resided in, that had come to life with their little knick-knacks- had been a relief. She wasn’t fond of going home and seeing everyone that had failed Aaron, but she loved her family and friends. Aaron could never get away fast enough. She respected that. It was why they worked.

The new year came, and with it, new cases.

Aaron wasn’t trying to bring a killer to justice with only the evidence from the crime scenes and the testimony of families. He was trying to save an innocent child and make sure the only monsters in their life were the ones imaginary ones under the bed, instead of the father they said was abusing him and his mother.

It was like looking in a mirror. An innocent child finally snapping and telling the police the truth about their home life. But where Aaron had been mocked and told to stop being a liar, the police had listened. Gathered the evidence. They had done their job. Now it was time for Aaron to do his.

He poured over the files for hours. He found every piece of evidence he could. He would not fail this child. Not the same way he had been. He would find the truth behind every hospital visit, between every tear they had ever shed and he would make sure that the old bastard’s wife and son never had to be scared for their lives ever again.

Aaron was going to do what nobody ever did for him.

It was a week before the trial. New evidence had been located. It was all important, obviously, but there was something they were missing. Something Aaron knew would make all the difference to their case. He just needed to find out.

His phone lit up. Sean was calling him. He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be dealing with his younger brother’s complaints in that moment. And he certainly couldn’t be lending him any more money. Him and Haley were saving for a mortgage. Then they would have a real home. Somewhere to call their own.

Somewhere to eventually raise their own children.

Sean tried to call him two more times. And Aaron declined two more times. It was a bit strange that he was phoning so consecutively, but it was probably nothing. No, not probably, definitely. It always was.

He turned back to the files, making sure his phone was on silent. When the clock ticked to six, he hurriedly locked majority of the files away in his cabinet and put the ones that had just come through into his briefcase. Haley had planned a nice evening for the two of them. But if- when- he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at least he could do something productive.

There were two more missed calls from Sean. Aaron made a mental note to phone him when he got home.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then I’m yours, I promise,” he said as he entered their living room, shoes already neatly put away on the porch.

There were two packed bags on the couch. Haley was sat, wearing a black dress, hands in her lap, landline next to her. Her head was bent, but her body was shaking as tears slipped down her cheek, dampening the fabric.

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he knelt in front of her. “Baby,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Baby, what happened? Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“Your mom’s gone,” she said.

“What?” Aaron whispered.

“I’m so sorry Aaron. I am so- that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you. It’s just- Sean said she was admitted to the hospital earlier, and she passed away about an hour ago. They phoned here because you didn’t answer your cell phone. I tried to explain everything, really, but they wouldn’t let me speak and-”

“She’s really gone,” Aaron said.

Haley embraced him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck as he sobbed, the knowledge still not sinking in, but the emptiness in his heart was threatening to overwhelm him entirely. They sat like that for what may have been hours or minutes as his body shook. Only when his tears turned to hiccups did Haley pull away, gently wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“You should shower. There’s nothing else you can do now,” she said.

Aaron shook his head. Haley stood and led him to the bathtub.

“All you need to do is keep your head up for me, okay?”

The shower had no effect on him. Haley helped him dress. He felt like a small child, needing someone’s assistance to button his shirt up. But he couldn’t make his body cooperate with him. He couldn’t do anything, still in shock that she was gone.

Haley put the bags in the boot. Aaron got in the passenger side. He spent the journey staring out the window. When the buildings became more familiar, he closed his eyes, not opening them until they reached Haley’s old home. He turned to her in confusion.

“Sean is staying with a friend tonight. Going back to that house is not something you need to do today. My parents already said we could stay with them.”

Of course they did. Because everyone must’ve already known that his mother died. His mother had died and he hadn’t been there because he’d ignored his brother’s phone calls. What kind of person did that make him?

Haley no longer had the key. She rang the doorbell, one arm still wrapped around him as they awkwardly stood outside. Hotch remembered the first time he had gone to her house for dinner. It had been after his father passed away. He’d spent the entire meal feeling uncomfortable. Like the Brooks’ weren’t going to approve of him.

Her mother had hugged him, cradling the back of his head, whispering her condolences, both for what had been lost and for what the town had failed to do. Roy Brooks had shaken his hand, saying that anyone would be proud to call him their son. Jessica had dragged him to one side and said they’d all known about Haley sneaking him in during the night, but nobody knew what to say.

When he got home, he crawled into bed and sobbed. For the first time, somebody loved him unconditionally.

It was her mother that answered the door. When she saw who it was, she ushered them in. Aaron remembered at the last moment that he was supposed to take his shoes off. Haley led him to the living room.

Roy embraced him. “You’re freezing,” he whispered. “Darling, put some tea on. Aaron, how are you feeling?”

He shook his head. He did not deserve kindness. Not in this moment.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Just drink some tea and then got some sleep. Haley’s old bedroom has been set up for the two of you. And we’ll both be here if you need anything. The next few days are going to be draining for both of you, so please, don’t hesitate in asking for any kind of support.”

“Thank you Papa,” Haley said, rubbing her husband’s back.

Aaron tried to smile, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

Roy was the one who drove him to the funeral home. Haley had offered, but she had already driven them from their apartment, which had tired her out because she hated driving, so Aaron had declined, having every intention to bear the burden alone. But as he was slipping his shoes on, Roy had emerged, saying nobody should have go alone.

Sean was waiting outside for the two of them, eyes red, biting his nails. When Aaron looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine him as the eighteen-year-old about to go to college that he was. When Aaron looked at his little brother, he just saw the little boy who didn’t understand that their dad wasn’t coming home. Only this time, there were no comforting lies to give him. He understood everything. Including Aaron’s failure.

“How could you?” Sean whispered the moment he saw his brother.

Aaron looked down.

“She was in the hospital, constantly asking where you were. She didn’t care that I was there. She just wanted to know where her precious baby was, and I had to keep lying and say that you were coming when in reality, I had no fucking clue where you were. It was not supposed to be me holding her hand. It was supposed to be you. But you weren’t there, and so you have no right to turn up, now looking all sad and pathetic.”

Michael Hotchner had not been right about much. But he had been right about one thing. Aaron Hotchner was his mirror. Sean Hotchner was his son.

“Sean Hotchner. That is enough. You do not get to disrespect your brother or your mother like that. Go inside, and do not create another scene,” Roy snapped.

When Sean departed, he turned to Aaron, who was shaking.

“Son?”

“He’s right,” Aaron whispered. “I should have been there. He- Sean phoned me and I didn’t answer because I thought it was stupid and I had this case and- I failed her.”

“Look at me. It’s not your fault. It was her time to go, and you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. Sean is angry and grieving, and he doesn’t mean a single word of what he said. You’re a good man, doing a good job and you make my daughter happy. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, not truly believing him. He followed Sean into the funeral home, where they spent the next few hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Aaron wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t know how. Not when Sean stood as far away from him as possible.

The funeral was a day later. Once again, Haley held his hand until the priest called him up to say a few words. Aaron managed to make it through his eulogy with minimal tears, but the moment he was back beside his wife, he turned away from the grave, letting the tears fall.

The people were silently judging him for what he had failed to do. Roy glared at everyone that dared tried to voice these opinions. They were wrong. Aaron hadn’t failed anyone. He’d gotten there the moment he was supposed to, and if those people were even half as religious as they liked to claim they were, they would know that.

“You take as long as you need,” Haley whispered, when everyone else, even Sean had departed.

Aaron nodded, holding the flowers he’d grabbed from the car to his chest like a baby. He watched as Haley left, going to sit in the car to give him the space he needed. He’d told them all to drive home, that the walk would do him some good. He watched on unsteady legs as the car faded from view.

And then he fell to his knees, sobbing, one hand pressed to his mouth to stop too much noise from escaping, the other blindly feeling around for the flowers left by Sean. Their mother had hated roses- somehow, she always managed to prick her finger on the thorns. The only reason they had ever been in the house was because on the days where people would come round, his father would turn up with a bouquet of them, and she would dutifully smile and accept them.

Aaron moved the roses so they were hidden by all the other flowers they had left. And then he put his own small bouquet of carnations right where the headstone would go.

“Mama, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he walked away, unable to stand the sight of the grave anymore.

The defence ripped him and his witnesses to shreds.

The verdict was not guilty.

The child was sent home.

“You promised me,” they sobbed as their father stood with an easy smirk on his face.

He was sick the moment he got home. Haley didn’t say a word. She just showed him an advert for the FBI that had been posted through the letterbox. When he stared at her, she smiled. Said that she had married Aaron Hotchner the man, not Mr Hotchner the prosecutor.

Two weeks later, he was enrolling in the FBI Academy.

Six months later and he was Agent Hotchner. He liked that. It was his own, and nobody would ever associate the title with his father. He could be his own person.

Then David Rossi gave him the nickname of Hotch and he couldn’t be happier. It would’ve made his mother smile. And his father turn in his grave at the utter shame of his good name being reduced down to something so mundane.

But being a profiler was tough. Every case meant dealing with the very worst of humanity. And even among the worst, there was a hierarchy. Some cases were just more disgusting, more scary and more scarring than others. A few cases reminded him that profilers were all just a step away from becoming unsubs themselves. That the line could and would blur before any of them even realised.

Vincent Perrotta left him vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. Jason had told him to loosen his tie and undo his top button, but Aaron needed the reassuring pressure of both things at his neck in order to maintain some kind of illusion of control in spite of the damage done by the wire.

He didn’t open up to unsubs. One of the most important parts of conducting an interrogation was to make them think you understood them without giving away anything about yourself. And most of the time, he was good at doing that. He pretended to understand the hatred of children, pretended to agree with them when they claimed that all women were just manipulative bitches and he pretended to find it amusing when they thought that the person doing the act was right.

The key word was pretend.

He wasn’t pretending when he looked Perrotta in the eye and told him the one thing that only Haley and Dave were aware of. Had it been any other time, it would’ve been funny. His own team didn’t know what his father had done to him, but this serial killer did, and it was all because he’d slipped up and said us instead of them.

Hotch had never been so thankful there was a bathroom on the same floor as his office that nobody ever used. The moment Perrotta turned away, the realisation that his crimes had never been inevitable causing more distress than the murder of the woman had, Hotch had bolted.

He hadn’t eaten since the incident in the night. It hurt to swallow. Which meant despite the minutes he spent retching over the toilet seat, hands trembling because how many times had he looked in the mirror and seen the exact same look that he’d witnessed on Perrotta, nothing came out.

Morgan was stood by the door.

“I know we have a no profiling rule.”

“Then follow it.”

“Reid’s doing your paperwork. He’s surprisingly good at forging your handwriting and I’m not sure I want to know why. That means all you need to do is sign it. Go home.”

“You’re not my superior Morgan,” Hotch snapped.

Morgan didn’t even blink. “I know. But you won’t write me up for insubordination. There’s no reason for you to be here, but there is every reason for you to be at home.”

Their relationship was a strange one. They trusted each other as agents- it was the only way they were able to go out in the field- but not as individuals. But then every once in a while, Derek would do something like this and Hotch would wonder if it was his way of saying that he did indeed care.

He was right though. There was every reason for him to be at home.

The living room light was off, so he immediately headed upstairs. Jack was asleep in his crib. Hotch felt uneasy in the nursery. Both he and Haley knew this was their forever home, which was why they had a nursery- it could be Jack’s bedroom until he moved out- but after Karl Arnold, he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to see him in the night.

“He won’t wake up if you hold him,” Haley said from the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he replied, feeling guilty that he must have woken her.

“No, I shouldn’t. What happened?”

“How do you know something happened?”

She shrugged. “I know you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to burden you. You already put up with enough from me.”

She crept closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was transported back to the bathroom, only now the scars on his back had healed but not faded and more, both visible and hidden, covered his body because profiling always damaged people.

“You’re not burdening me. I’m asking.”

“Serial killer. His dad abused him and his mom. I accidentally told him that some of us grow up to catch them. But Hales, the look on his face. It was like he finally realised that everything he did had been because of him, not because of his father and I just, I sympathised. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”

“I saw myself in him. The person I might have become if you hadn’t saved me,” he confessed, still watching his son.

Haley’s grip loosened. He realised what he had said.

“Aaron that wasn’t me. You saved yourself. You got out and you decided you were going to break the cycle. That was you. I just helped you along the way. Hey, look at me.”

He turned, tears in his eyes. Haley smiled, still as bright and good as the day they met. She took his hands and lifted them to her lips, placing a soft kiss to them before leaning past him and lifting Jack up. The baby stirred slightly, but did not wake, even when Haley handed him to Aaron.

“You won’t hurt him. Or me. You will never be like the people that you hunt down. I will die before that ever happens,” she said. There was such raw passion in her voice that the tears finally fell.

Haley would die before he hurt someone. And he had made a vow to her father the day they married that he would keep her safe, and a second the day he joined the FBI that if Haley were to die, it would not be because of his job.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting Jack down so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do. Because to her it was. She just wished he could understand that.

He didn’t know how to say the words. Not in the way that she needed. So instead he smiled, took one last look at his baby and walked away. He pretended to be fine because Haley shouldn’t have to worry about her. In reality, the moment she fell asleep, he went and checked the locks. Again.

The darkness shouldn’t have been able to creep in, but it did. It always did.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too rough with you,” Gideon said, taking the seat opposite him.

Hotch looked at him. Gideon gave him that smile that never seemed to be aimed at him anymore. He sighed, fiddling with the pen he’d placed on the paperwork he hadn’t touched since boarding the jet. Talking to Abby’s son had been more painful than he’d expected, but somebody needed to do it. It was the least they could do for him.

“I’ve handled worse,” he replied.

Gideon hmmed at that. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I made you some tea. Herbal. Apparently it’s calming. You should drink it.”

Hotch stared at the mug like it was going to poison him. Then he carried on staring out the window. It was dark, and there wasn’t really much to see, but he couldn’t keep looking at the sympathy on Jason’s face. It made him feel sick. He wasn’t the one that had lost a father that day. He had just gotten too close, again, despite constantly telling everyone that wasn’t something they could do.

It was impossible to get the image of him burning to death out of his mind. Whilst he wanted to believe Abby’s death had been swift and painless, much like his own father’s heart attack, he knew that was impossible. He’d seen enough burn victims to know it took time for that happen. He wondered if, in those final moments, Abby regretted his decision.

“Hotch there was nothing we could have done to save him,” Gideon said gently. He wished Dave was still there. He would know what to say, what to do. Gideon had never had that relationship with Aaron. He liked to think he had that relationship with Spencer, but Aaron was different. He didn’t understand him.

“I should have stopped him. He should have had more time. If only so he could look at his son and tell him what was going on.”

Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Spencer mentioned that you had gone to see the family. Why didn’t you send JJ? She is our media liaison, that’s her job description, not yours.”

“JJ wouldn’t have understood. I had to go. It had to be me.” Hotch didn’t really know why he was telling Gideon any of this.

“It was your penance, wasn’t it? You think it’s your fault that he died, so you decided to make the fallout your responsibility. Hotch, you’re the Unit Chief now. The team look to you. You can’t tell them to do one thing and then do the exact opposite.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be SSA Hotchner, or even Hotch. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be Aaron, because even though Haley and Dave- the only people that used his first name- had always treated it like something precious, the ghost of his father made him think the only way it could be said was with disdain.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Jason was watching him. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, watching the other members of the team. JJ and Emily were laughing at something that Morgan was saying. Reid was smiling. Hotch felt relieved. It had been far too long since Reid had smiled, and he knew he was the one to blame.

Jason followed his gaze. “They’ve all come so far, haven’t they? One day, they won’t even need us.”

That startled Hotch. His eyes met Gideon’s and he realised his mistake immediately.

“I see. It wasn’t just Abby you saw yourself in. It was his son. That’s why you went. You were compensating.”

“Please don’t profile me,” he whispered, knowing it was useless.

“I’m not. Now I know I’m no David Rossi or Haley Brooks, but I am here. However much you may not agree, I am.”

It was useless to say that he didn’t think that. Because he did, and it was written in the hesitance of his decisions. Of his constant watching. Of the pile of paperwork in his office that was meant to be Jason’s.

“I wanted- needed- to know who it was that my father had been having an affair because everyone, including my own mother, had known. But then he was diagnosed with cancer and all of that became irrelevant. I never got my answers, and it still hurts, even now.”

Nobody, not even Haley, knew about that. She obviously had her suspicions, and she knew about his lack of closure, but he had never properly told her.

Jason wasn’t saying anything. Hotch looked at him and saw that the other man was looking past him, not at him. He followed his gaze, and realised he was looking at Spencer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled as Derek ruffled his hair.

He turned back, and saw that Jason was watching Spencer with the soft smile he had never managed to evoke. He blinked back tears. He missed Dave. He wanted Dave because Dave would know what to say to stop him feeling like such crap. Jason didn’t. Because Jason loved Spencer more than he loved Aaron, and Aaron couldn’t even fathom resenting either of them for that because it wasn’t either of their faults.

It was just a fact of life. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when instead of replying, Gideon stood and went over to the other members of the team, intently listening to whatever it was Spencer was saying.

Haley would tell him to phone Dave. But he couldn’t disrupt his book tour like that. Instead, he kept staring out the window, trying to forget how beautiful the flames had looked against the darkness of the night or how deep down, he almost wished it had been him in there.

It was too close to the line between profiler and unsub.

He bottled up his emotions and hoped that Jason would stay. If not for him, then for Spencer. Because he couldn’t be that person. He was barely that person for Jack.

Jason did not stay. Neither did Haley. They both reached their breaking points and then Hotch pushed them too far.

Deep down, he knew the moment where they both decided they couldn’t take it anymore, the moment where they finally admitted to themselves that they deserved better and they took the steps to get there.

He just never expected they would happen on the same day. He supposed he’d bought that upon himself though. It was him that had said Jason was okay to return to work, for the purely selfish reason that he couldn’t do it alone even though he knew Gideon needed more time. It was him that had left on the case because Morgan had asked him to, even though Haley had asked him not to.

What kind of marriage was that? He didn’t know who had phoned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but there was no guarantee that Haley was having an affair. To suggest that she was would be cruel. It would only be because he didn’t want to have to take accountability for his part in the breakdown of their marriage.

It did take two to tango.

But where Jason took a piece of Spencer’s heart, Haley took the reason Hotch had never been able to stop hunting down monsters.

Morgan told him they would survive without Gideon. Hotch knew they would, but he wasn’t sure he could. Gideon’s departure, as much as he didn’t want to seem narcissistic, would reflect on him. He hadn’t saved him. He hadn’t been able to save his marriage- because Haley had done all she had and it had been his turn- and now the unsub’s last words were haunting his memory.

He had always taken pride in the fact that he was a difficult man to profile. A face schooled into a cautious look of neutrality, suits that hid the fact that he never seemed to have an appetite anymore. The only thing that ever gave away his nerves was the small hand thing he had never been able to stop doing.

For his own profession to be used against him in such a way, so soon after he had failed to save so many people- the six agents in Boston, Elle, Jason, Haley- was disarming. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Normally, he would’ve gone to the home where Haley would have left a light on for him. He would’ve watched his son sleep and just stared at him in awe. He would’ve pressed a kiss to Haley’s forehead before climbing into their bed and seeking her warmth. Maybe, if it had been too late to go home, he would’ve taken Jason to the piano night down at the bar.

But Haley had taken her warmth and the thing that made their house a home with her. All the rooms would be dark when he got back. Jack’s room would be empty. Their bed would be cold.

He hadn’t slept alone since college. It hurt, to wake up in the morning and not see Haley’s hair, messy and knotted.

He just didn’t want to be alone, but who was he supposed to tell?

“Reid. I’ll drop you home. It’s been a long few days,” he said.

Everyone else had left. Reid looked up with wide eyes. He looked so painfully young, and Hotch felt a slight pain in his stomach. What was this job doing to him? Spencer deserved better than sleepless nights and painful memories that would never be forgotten. Hotch guessed that one day, Spencer would be added to the list of people he had failed to save.

In some ways, he already was.

“I can go myself,” Spencer mumbled.

“Reid. Let me do this. Please,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “Okay.”

They left, the car far too silent for either of them to be comfortable. Hotch wanted to debate something intellectual, if only to soothe Spencer’s nerves, but the words classic narcissist still left a bitter taste in his mouth. And his mind had gone completely blank regarding anything else.

“We’ve driven past the turning. The route that you’re now going down would mean that getting to my apartment would take an hour extra.”

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, subtly checking that the car doors were locked. “You’re coming home with me. I don’t think you should go home alone.”

Reid turned to face him properly. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child. I get enough of that from everyone else. Gideon left me with a letter, just like my dad. He’s not going to come back and rationally, I have to accept that, because refusal to do so won’t change anything.”

“Maybe. But you should know better than anyone that we can’t control our brains.”

He realised the moment the words left his mouth that it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he immediately regretted them. What Reid thought he was trying to imply was definitely not what he was, but the words had come out wrong and now Reid was going to hate him too.

“I do. Know that. Don’t need you reminding me.”

He sounded just like Jack. Hotch swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, that came out badly. What I meant was that you’re allowed to feel like you’re being irrational. Missing Gideon is a valid emotion, regardless of the way he left us. You. I meant you.”

They were stuck at a red light.

“Hotch, why haven’t you transferred?” Reid asked suddenly.

He shifted slightly. “My reason for doing it is no longer a thing.”

Reid frowned, and Hotch hit the gas.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Is it our fault?”

Hotch shook his head. “Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault.”

Reid wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he blurted out. “That’s why I’m taking you to the house. Because I can’t be alone and I need to feel like I’m doing something to help someone otherwise, what is the point in all of this?”

“This is about what the unsub said, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t had a conversation like this in so long. Not since before Hankel, his brain supplied.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I failed to help Elle. I failed to help you, and Jason and Haley and god knows who else,” he said.

Spencer looked at him, chin tilted “You said: Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault. How is this any different?”

Hotch sighed. “I had a responsibility to the other members of my team because I am meant to be their leader. You, on the other hand, are still just a kid, who has no connection whatsoever to my marriage.”

“I may be young, but I am in no way a child. And no, I didn’t have any connection to your marriage but I still don’t get your point. Elle and Gideon made their decisions of their own free will and there is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop them because when somebody is that determined to do something, they will always find a way.”

They’d pulled into the driveway. Hotch still hadn’t adjusted to the curtains still being open, for everyone to see and it took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The porch light hadn’t been on for a while, yet it was still a shock to the system. Haley’s light was just another thing he had taken for granted.

“When did you get so smart?” Hotch whispered. In some ways, he felt like he had watched as Spencer had grown from the new agent, doubting his worth and his abilities, to the slightly more confident that he had a family man that was now sat next to him. He hoped Spencer never lost his softness, or the things that made him the person he was, for there was nothing sadder.

“Hotch, I’ve always been smart. When Gideon returned after Boston, you introduced me as your expert on everything and then I told the man we were interviewing that I have an IQ of 187.”

“Never change Spencer.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you stay the night?” Hotch asked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. But I want this to be your decision. If you’d rather be alone, then I will take you to your apartment and we’ll never speak about it again.”

They sat for a few minutes, and Hotch resisted the urge to tell Spencer to hurry up.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” he finally decided, voice small.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that the house was still littered with small traces of Haley and the life they had spent together.

The two of them ate in relative silence, and then Hotch set them both up in the living room. He wanted- needed- to keep an eye on Spencer, but he told him that when Haley and him bought their first apartment and started living together, they would camp out in the living room because there was nobody to tell them not to.

He left out the part where it was also because Aaron had never really been allowed to sit wherever he wanted and do whatever he felt like.

There was some old documentary about the Russian Revolution in the background. Spencer had fallen asleep, his head in Hotch’s lap. Without even realising, Hotch had started stroking his hair, much like he used to do for Jack.

The light in the living room was on, and not once did Spencer wake. Hotch made them both breakfast- pancakes, because the look of joy when he said he probably had all the ingredients was not one he wanted to destroy- and Spencer gave him a genuine smile.

Neither of them spoke of it again, but Hotch felt a little lighter. A little bit more like the Aaron Haley had fallen in love with again. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he saved Spencer, and even if it was only a little, and well after he should’ve, at least he had done it.

That would be enough to keep the darkness out, if only for a little bit.

Megan Kane died and Aaron- not Hotch, because Hotch would say that you can’t take cases personally, no matter how much you wanted to, held her hand. He held her hand as she said thank you for staying and not leaving. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he didn’t walk away for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t have her considering him to be the same as the other men she’d killed.

Not after everything she’d done. The chip was safely tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be passed on.

Even when her chest stopped rising, he refused to let go, only doing so when the police kicked the already open door to her room in, guns raised. When they stepped onto the balcony, he dropped her hand, watching as it fell limply. He didn’t know how long he had been sat there, but it was long enough for the body to go cold.

“Agent Hotchner. We need you to provide a statement. You were the only person present when she died,” the lead detective said.

Aaron stood, suddenly so angry at everything and everyone. “She took the pills and gave me the card. And then she asked me to stay so I did. Then she died. What more do you need than that?”

He didn’t want to tell them what she’d said. It was stupid, but it felt private.

He stormed out the room before they could respond and stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart.

Both Dave and Emily tried to make him feel better the whole way home. It was all to no avail. Their attempts to comfort him went over like a lead balloon. The only indication he’d even heard them was the slight clench of his jaw and his adamant stare out the window, his report on the table, only the first sentence written. When Dave tried to crack a joke, Hotch glared and he backed off.

Emily sat by him. Whilst her general presence usually never failed to make him feel a little better, it was just irritating him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He didn’t want them walking on eggshells. He wanted them to just leave him.

But then he felt bad. Because the one person he wanted had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with his job, and the rest were just trying to be there for him and that should’ve been enough for him.

When they got to the office, he did something he’d only done a few times before. He put the files on his desk and then he exited it. He needed to see his son. He needed to go to his real home- because now Haley was living in the house, it felt like a home again.

Haley had responded to his message about coming by with a simple: Ok. He still felt wrong profiling her, so he didn’t.

She had changed the locks. He didn’t have the key. And so he was stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to open the door whilst he rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring had previously been. The tan line had all but faded. He felt pathetic for still reaching for it sometimes.

She opened the door. “There’s a birthday party that he’s been excited about for- you’re wearing a case suit.”

“I’m- what?”

She frowned. “Why are you wearing a case suit?”

“A case suit?”

“Yes. There are suits that you would only ever wear when you were on a case because they could be washed a lot more easily, and if you got blood on them, well you weren’t attached to them. How were you not aware of this?”

“I guess it was a subconscious thing. Look, we just landed but I-” he saw Jack peeking his head around the door.

On reflex, he crouched down. He remembered how he had felt when he was younger and his father would come storming in, towering over him, terrifying and threatening. He never wanted Jack to feel like that. And so he knelt down, burying his head in Jack’s neck for a moment before letting go.

“Hi buddy. How are you feeling?”

Jack stopped smiling. “I accidentally made mommy annoyed because I drew on the wall. But then she said that sometimes people feel bad emotions and that’s okay, you just need to be good about it. And then once we cleaned it up, she said that I’m not a bad kid, I just did a wrong thing.”

Hotch felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Haley was so good. Too good.

“She’s right. One act doesn’t determine who you are,” he said, voice cracking.

“Jack, mommy and daddy need to go and talk in the kitchen, so just stay in the living room, okay?”

Jack nodded.

Hotch followed Haley, noticing the last photo that was taken of the three of them before the divorce- although at the time nobody knew- was still stuck to the fridge.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

Aaron turned away. “That’s not your job anymore.”

“Baby,” she said.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time somebody had called him that?

“I know what I said then. Trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget. But I was wrong. This is who you are. And I never should’ve asked you to change. I think the divorce was the best thing for both of us, because it was needed. But I still love you. And I know you won’t tell the team. So tell me.”

And he did. He told her everything. “The worst part is, she was right. I should be here every week, but Jack’s lucky if I’m here every fortnight. Haley, I always said I didn’t want to become a father because of how he hurt me. What kind of father am I if Jack is going to say the same thing?”

For a while Haley did not speak. They were just stood, a good six feet between them. And then she threw her arms around him. The force of her touch threw him off balance. When was the last time anyone had actually touched him? If he was struggling to remember, then it must’ve been far too long.

The smell of her shampoo felt like coming home and before he knew what was happening, he could taste the salt of his tears.

She stroked his hair and he relaxed into the touch, despite all the knots. He had always hated brushing his hair but loved when Haley would run her hands through it. She messed it up as he sobbed into her shoulder, and not for the first time, she wondered how many more times he could stare into the depths of depravity and come back whole.

Although, she thought to herself bitterly, he’d never been given the chance to be whole in the first place.

At some point, they’d started sitting on the kitchen floor. She was still playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

Aaron looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could not resist the urge to press a soft kiss to his forehead before tugging him closer.

“Sleep here. I’ll take Jack to the party, and you can rest. Do that paperwork that’s in your office. And maybe tomorrow, we can all go for ice cream.”

His eyes widened. They were so soft and warm that Haley had never understood how he managed to glare at anyone. Apart from the people that had offered their sympathies at his father’s funeral, despite fully well knowing the truth.

“Really?”

“Yeah Aaron. Really. Now go upstairs and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She was, and it was like she had burst into his life in an explosion of light all over again.

Then George Foyet took that light and snuffed it out.

Haley once said she would die before Aaron hurt another person the way his father had hurt him. She said it because her death was so unlikely. It was an event that they knew would one day occur, but they never really thought about it. Though it was morbid, Aaron’s death was the one they had to prepare for. He was the one charging after dangerous criminals on a weekly basis. Haley was teaching.

Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to her because he had promised, with everything he was, that he would keep her safe and that the horrors of his job would never touch her.

But he hadn’t been quick enough.

And now she was dead.

George Foyet had surrendered. He had surrendered willingly and without coercion, but Hotch hadn’t listened. He had carried on, even though his duty was to stop. To carry out a lawful arrest. But he hadn’t. He had carried on hitting a man that would not have been able to defend himself. Deep down he knew that was unfair to say. Foyet was taunting him by saying he was giving up.

Still, his knuckles ached. Morgan had pulled him off the body and he hadn’t been able to look. He couldn’t do it. So many things had already been destroyed by him. There was already so much blood on his hands, if he looked at Foyet he would never recover.

He was worse than his father. At least his father was a human. At least his father had never touched Sean. His father had never- to his knowledge- even attempted to beat his mother to death. But he had. He had beaten a man to death, and the worst part was, he would do it all again.

He would do it again because at least Jack was alive. Scared and confused, but alive. Hotch knew that if Jack had been the one to die, then he wouldn’t be here. He would’ve let Foyet kill him and vanish, as selfish as it was, because a life without his son was not one he wanted to live. After he found Haley, he knew he needed to consider the worst scenario: that Jack had not understood.

When Foyet told him that he would find Jack and show him his dead parents, something in him found the strength to survive. If Foyet was saying he would find Jack, then that would mean that he hadn’t already done so. Which meant Jack must’ve understood and was just waiting for his dad to come find him.

It was when Jack told him about how he had worked the case that the knowledge that Haley was dead hit him like a tonne of bricks. The first time he had found him, Jack had ran out and told his Mom what him and Daddy were doing together. Haley had smiled fondly before coming into the room, staring out the window instead of the desk.

Hotch had told her it was just a budget report. She looked down and did indeed see the budget sheet. But under that was the profile for a man who had recently lost his wife and was going after blonde mothers that resembled her.

There was blood all over his shirt and hands. Jack didn’t need to see that. The part of his brain not occupied with Haley knew that JJ was the best person for him to be with. She was good with children and had dealt with enough children of victims to know what to say and what to avoid.

Victims. Because that was what Haley had become. A victim of a serial killer and it was all his fault.

If he had just been quicker. If he had taken the deal. If he had transferred when Haley asked him to. They probably would have still ended up divorcing, but she would be alive. Jack would have a real parent. One that could look at him without turning away. Haley’s blood was on his hands, and every time he looked at Jack, he saw her. Because Jack had his mother’s light hair and kind eyes.

The day Aaron died- and god that couldn’t come fast enough- would be the day that the last piece of his father finally left the earth.

Haley’s hair was dark. That was the first thing he noticed when he saw her, lying on the ground. He’d heard people say that when someone died, you could kid yourself into thinking that they were just sleeping because they would look so peaceful.

Haley’s mouth was a thin line. She smiled when she was sleeping. Her clothes were not the ones she would have picked herself. Her eyes were still open. Aaron hated that she died alone and afraid. That should’ve been him. And her hair was dark. He cursed himself for being surprised. Of course it was dark. She’d gone into WitSec.

It just felt like a visual representation of everything he’d taken from her. Her light and innocence had been destroyed and it was all his fault. He hadn’t even told her Sam Kassmeyer was dead, which was such a stupid thing to fixate on, but anything to take away from the fact that she was gone.

When he pulled her limp, unmoving body towards him, needing to feel her against him one more time, she was still a little warm and he almost vomited right there. How close had they been that she wasn’t cold? He didn’t let go till Emily gently touched her shoulder, leading him away from the body.

The team were shielding him from the various people that had responded to the scene and if he had more energy, he would say thank you. But he was tired. And his hands hurt so much. They were still trembling.

Jack leant into his touch like it was nothing and Hotch marvelled at the fact that he seemed to adjust like it was nothing. He knew it was because he didn’t understand, but after everything that had been lost that day- two lives, a piece of Aaron, a place that was once home, the brightest light he’d ever met, Jack’s chance for a normal life- it felt like a win.

Before he knew it, the funeral was being held. He’d planned his eulogy, writing it whilst watching Jack because he couldn’t sleep without seeing the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest. There were a hundred different copies in the bin. How was he supposed to get up in front of everyone that looked to him and expected him to lead, and talk about Haley had made him feel safe?

Attending Haley’s funeral hurt more than either of his parents had. He wasn’t sure if that made him a terrible person. But when his father had died, he’d been relieved. Not happy, but maybe a little grateful. And when his mother had died, Haley had been stood next to him, her grip on his hand grounding him.

This time, she was the one in the ground. And the only person grounding him was a little boy, so much like Sean- not quite understanding, but aware enough to know the person they loved wasn’t coming home.

He held it together through his speech. Jessica gave him a soft smile before she took his place, reciting her own eulogy. Haley’s mother wasn’t able to attend because she was too unwell so her father recited both their speeches, voice cracking and tears streaming down his face.

It showed just how broken he was. No self-respecting Southern man would ever be able to shed tears that freely.

“Thank you for saying something,” Jessica said to him when they were all sat down. The team were far away enough to not hear, and he suspected that was why she had finally spoken to him.

“Jessie, this is all my fault. It was the least I could do. And I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. To all of you.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Jessie. It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. Aar, I don’t blame you. I can’t. Because you did everything you could. I know that. And I heard you up there. You loved her. But you didn’t kill her. In fact, she’d kill me if I suggested such a thing. So forgive yourself. The rest of us have.”

“Jessica, why would you say something like that?” Roy shouted.

Jess flinched, unaware that her father had overheard everything.

Aaron shrunk down in his seat, unable to meet Roy’s eyes.

“You got my daughter killed. I trusted you. Even when nobody else did, when everybody said only bad things happened where Aaron Hotchner got involved, I trusted you. And when those people blamed you for what happened to your mother, I defended you. Because I knew you were a good man that would keep my daughter safe.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” Jessica said quietly.

“Yes it is! Yes. It is. My baby is dead, and it is all your fault. You promised me this would never happen. You swore. When your marriage died, I thought to myself: these things happen. They were young when they fell in love, perhaps they just grew up. But this- everything that has happened today? That’s on you. This is your fault. I wish it was you in the ground!”

Hotch flinched. “Roy, I-”

“It’s Mr Brooks to you now Hotchner. I treated you like a son. I- Haley did everything for you. Why weren’t you fast enough?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Why had he not been fast enough?

“Dad, I know you are angry, but Aaron is not the person to be taking it out on! Just because he’s here and it is convenient does not make it right. Haley loved him until the very last moment. Shouldn’t that be enough to be good to him?”

Aaron just wanted everyone to stop shouting.

“She didn’t love him at the very last moment! How could she, after everything he put her through?”

“It is Hotchner going on the gravestone, not Brooks,” Jessica snapped.

Both Roy and Aaron stared at her. Neither of them had known about that, and she immediately paled, as though she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

“What?” Roy spat.

“Haley called mom in the middle of the night in a panic. Said that if, somehow, this Foyet managed to find them, or if something happened, she wanted Hotchner to be on her gravestone because she loved Aaron.”

Roy’s hands were clenched at his sides and Aaron swallowed, subconsciously bracing himself for the blow that never came.

“I won’t do that to you. Ever. You may not be my son anymore, but I still would not harm you.”

Hotch exhaled, but Roy walked away before he could say anything. And the team got called away on a case.

“Did she really say that?” he asked Jessica, when it was just the two of them and their mugs of coffee. Jack had gone to sleep.

Jessica tore her gaze away from the carpet. Derek had done an incredible job of making it seem like nothing happened, but she now knew better and the thought of what had gone down made her sick. She wished she could convince Aaron to move, but she knew it would never work.

“Jess?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She did. I was going to say something to you earlier but it completely slipped my mind. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He nodded. Of course it would be okay with him. Whatever Haley had wanted from him, he would give her. It would be too little too late, but it would still be something. Maybe it would lead to Roy’s forgiveness.

It was that line of reasoning that led to him almost accepting retirement, because what else was he meant to do? But then Jessica had offered to take Jack, saying it was the least she could do and that it wouldn’t be any trouble and he had been confused.

The gravestone hadn’t been placed yet, but he still knew where she was buried. That surprised him, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really remember the actual funeral. He just remembered Roy’s words. Aaron found himself talking to the air in a way he never had before, and by the time Dave found him, he’d made his decision.

Jack needed a father that could teach him how to move on and be happy. Aaron needed the team to be happy. Jessica had given her blessing, and maybe it was psychological, but everything felt a little warmer after he told his best friend that Haley already knew.

It didn’t mean he was confident that he was making the right choice. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified of how the team would respond. What if they thought he was making the wrong choice?

But on his first day in the office, they all treated him normally. Like nothing had changed. And for that, he was grateful. Emily was- as always- the only one aside from Dave with the self-destructive streak to make a comment.

Although it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting.

“I’m glad you came back,” she told him as he packed up his things to go.

There was a look in her eyes that told him she was being genuine. Her approval, deep down, meant more to him than everyone else’s, including Dave. For her to come in and say that she was happy he was there and leading the team meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. It also showed how far they had come. She had gone from insulting him every other sentence to wanting him around. He had gone from not trusting her to only being able to tell her the truth about what had really happened in his apartment.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. If she had wanted it, she could have taken his job, no question. She wouldn’t- Derek was obviously the next Unit Chief- but she could have.

She smiled. “You keep us all safe, Aaron. How could I not?”

Emily’s hair was dark. As were her eyes. And there was a darkness that surrounded her in a similar way to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she had learnt to live with hers. She had turned it into something beautiful that made people love her.

Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps the darkness was something to welcome, not fear.

Emily Prentiss died, alone and cold, three times in one night. She died once when she told Derek Morgan to let her go because she genuinely believed Ian Doyle was still there, just waiting to hurt the people that had become her family. She flatlined in the ambulance, and Aaron had to watch as they frantically tried to revive her.

They succeeded in doing so, but at what cost?

She died a third time when Hotch had to make the decision as to whether or not she stayed. He wanted to scream at the bureau and say that it couldn’t be left to him because it was Emily’s life and if she wanted to stay and fight then she should.

But they would interpret his screaming and pleading as weakness. They would use it to deem him incapable of impartiality and then he would never know what happened. So instead of crying the way he wanted to, he kept his face neutral and argued all the reasons that Agent Prentiss- not Emily, not now- needed to be sent away and saved.

They went for it, and the prosecutor within him should have been proud. But it wasn’t. He was just tired.

Emily did not know that he had been in the ambulance and seen her die. She didn’t know that she had told him, whilst she was fading in and out of consciousness, about the darkness that she had seen and the chill that had come over her when she realised that she was dying or that he knew she wanted to believe in a better ending.

But Aaron did. It was why he found it so difficult to tell her what was happening. But he was already asking too much of JJ. JJ who was supposed to be a liaison for the state department and nothing more. But there was a haunted look in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her, but there just wasn’t time.

He needed to save Emily before it was too late. Or maybe it already was too late. Maybe she would have survived if his own darkness hadn’t joined hers. Maybe if he’d been quicker in getting JJ or working out what had happened.

The moment he saw his own smiling face staring up at him, he should have known what was happening. But he hadn’t. And now yet another person’s blood was on his hands. When would it end? When would the people he loved stop being hurt by a darkness that should have only ever destroyed him?

His father once said the only thing he was good at was destroying beautiful things. Aaron had so desperately wanted to prove him wrong that he only succeeded in proving him right. Emily Prentiss had once been beautiful and good. One of the strongest and most resilient women he knew.

Hotch wasn’t stupid. He saw the way JJ looked at her. That was the other reason he had to be the one to tell her. Because he had seen Jason in the aftermath of the Boston bombing and Elle after she shot the rapist. He knew what Spencer’s anger and Derek’s fear looked like. He had seen the worst of each of his team members and never faltered because their darkness was nothing compared to his.

The Emily laying on that bed, broken and damaged beyond what any normal person should have been able to survive, was not the Emily they knew and Hotch was not going to let it be the Emily that JJ would remember. He would let JJ go with her to Paris because she would be stronger then.

That would be the Emily she would remember.

“Emily? Can you hear me?” he asked as quietly as he could.

She turned slightly, but even that small movement seemed to cause her pain. She opened her mouth to speak and winced.

“Don’t talk. You’re still too weak to do that. I just, I need to tell you what’s going to happen, okay? Because a lot of things are going to change and I want you to know exactly how this is going to play out.”

His hands were shoved in his pockets. One of them needed to be strong and pretend that everything was going to be okay, and it sure as hell couldn’t be her. But she saw and tried to motion to him. He shook his head. Soon she would be leaving him, and he did not want to remember her touch as being cold and almost lifeless. He wanted to remember her touch as being warm and comforting.

Without looking at her, he told her how they were sending her to Paris. His voice did not tremble and he did not break but he couldn’t face her when he was done talking. Instead, he stared at the floor and focused on the white tiles.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me? I do not want to be sent to Paris whilst everyone else tries to deal with this.”

“Em. I’m trying to do the right thing,” he pleaded. He couldn’t have her hating him. Not after everything that had happened between them, and certainly not everything they had both done to gain the others trust.

“The right thing would have been to let me die,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and it was only a few days earlier. He had told Clyde Easter that if anything happened to her, he would destroy him. The knowledge that he could do it without even flinching should have terrified him, but it didn’t. In some morbid way, it relaxed him.

When he turned his back, the knowledge that he had disarmed the other man bought him more joy than it should have, and again he was reminded of how thin the line between profiler and unsub really was.

“Mr Hotchner,” Clyde had called out.

Hotch had frozen, hands clenched at his side. How many years had it been since someone last called him that? And yet he still couldn’t hear the title without thinking of his father. He was an adult now, the man shouldn’t have held that influence over him but he was still terrified and he hated himself for it.

He’d turned, just enough so he could see Clyde’s face.

“I did my part. If she dies, that’s on you.”

And it was. It was all his fault. She had trusted him to keep them safe, but he had failed. Again. He had destroyed her, just like he had destroyed so many other good people. He didn’t deserve to be a coward anymore, so he looked up and met her eyes.

Weak and damaged as she was, she still managed to glare with a hatred he had only ever seen once. When she had been a college student, arguing with her mother. And he’d been both terrified and relieved to see that she could be so ruthless. Terrified because to him, she was just a girl and she shouldn’t have known how to hate like that, but relieved because he wasn’t the only one with such potential for darkness inside.

He left without another word. JJ had comforted Reid and Garcia because he had been too busy throwing up the single bite of sandwich he’d managed to choke down. And he knew something had happened to her whilst she was working for the Pentagon. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stay.

It was why he let her take Emily to Paris. He didn’t tell her what Emily had said to him. He just told her to ask if she could remember anything from the hospital. He spent the entire time waiting for her to respond. He was talking to Dave when there was a text from JJ. All it said was she doesn’t remember anything she said.

And it became slightly easier to breathe.

The funeral was difficult.

First thing in the morning, he had dropped Jack off with Jessica. Jack did not know it was a funeral that his father was attending, and so he was quite content to just sit in the living room and play with his toys whilst Aaron and Jessica stood in the hallway, talking in hushed whispers.

“Don’t you think he should go?” she had asked.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He already went to Haley’s. I can’t take him to Emily’s.”

“But he should be able to say goodbye to her.”

“Jessie, please. I can’t tell you why, but he can’t go to the funeral and I swear, as soon as I can, I will tell you everything but he just- I need him to not be there.”

She stared at him. “Aaron, you never need to beg for anything from me. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jessica didn’t understand that him and JJ were the only one that knew the coffin was empty. It was the second coffin in a year that Aaron was forced to stand beside. When did it end? When would the members of his team stop losing the people they loved?

Ashley Seaver was a child and he never should have let her stay on the team after that first case. She was meant to be a training agent, who was supposed to believe that her job would make a difference and protect people from a life like the one she had been forced to live. And yet here she was, stood at the grave of a team member whilst the rest fell apart. Hotch wanted her to remain good and hopeful, but he just didn’t know how to do that.

In some ways, he resented JJ. She was able to go back to the Pentagon and get away from the looks of her coworkers. She didn’t have to look out of her office and see the empty table that had once been Emily’s, nor did she have to go through the drawers of her desk and decide what would be kept and what would be thrown.

Aaron ended up keeping everything in a box at his apartment because he didn’t have the heart to throw anything away. Not when Emily wasn’t really dead, even though her photo was still hung up outside.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody. So, he ran off to Afghanistan for three months working on a project he didn’t fully understand or see the point in. The guilt at leaving his team and Jack only slightly overshadowed the relief he had that nobody looked at him and seeked comfort. They just needed him to do a job.

Everybody else had grieved losing Emily. JJ had her closure for making sure she was settled in Paris, and from what Hotch could understand, she had been pushing the boundary as much as she could regarding the no communication rule. The team had each other, but he had nobody.

Then Ian Doyle died, and Emily Prentiss came back to them, but he didn’t come back to the team. Not really. For Derek was able to forgive Emily for what she did because the relief he felt at her return was enough to overpower his anger at her. Dave had suspected the whole time. Spencer was just glad that he hadn’t lost someone else, and that JJ had also been returned to them.

They could forgive JJ because it had never been her decision to leave them. They could forgive Emily because of everything she had been through and because she had no say in what was done to her.

It was Hotch that had failed to stop the move from happening. It was him that had made the decision to fake Emily’s death and not tell the team. He had chosen to leave them, and his son, for the summer. Yes, it was unfair to blame him, and it was likely his hands had been tied, but they were angry. They needed someone to direct that anger towards.

Every time they snapped at JJ or Emily, it felt like kicking a puppy for they would just look so hurt and upset that they immediately wanted to apologise. But if they shouted at Aaron, he would just take it. He wouldn’t argue or defend himself. He just took it, the ghosts behind his eyes not ones they could acknowledge in the moment.

He maintained his façade and pretended everything was okay because if he wasn’t okay, the team would have no use for him and he would become dispensable and there would be nothing left for him. Except for Jack. But he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Jack to see him. Since Emily’s return, his nightmares had gotten worse and he woke up screaming more times than he cared to admit.

And then one night, when Jack was staying with his cousins and grandfather, the nightmares got so bad that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was vomiting up the meagre dinner he’d eaten.

When there was nothing left, he leant against the bathtub and sobbed. His own team hated him and there was nothing he could do because they were right. He didn’t trust them and he had fucked up so badly there was no redemption for him.

Jessica hadn’t been able to sleep. She had let herself into the apartment to see how Aaron was because there was a pit in her stomach, like something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron?” she called out.

There was no response, which on the one hand could have been a good thing because it would mean he was sleeping, but it could also mean he was refusing to speak to anyone. She wasn’t an idiot. When Emily had come to see Jack after that hearing thing because she needed something good, Aaron told her the truth. And then lied by saying he was fine after carrying that burden around himself.

The bedroom was empty. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that he could just be in the shower or getting a glass of water. She crept along to the bathroom. Inside, he was vomiting and she knew it would eventually turn into sobs.

Without considering what she was doing, she dialled Derek Morgan’s number. He’d given it to her at the funeral and asked her to keep him safe. She had done her job as his sister, and now it was time for his team to their job as his family.

“Jessica?”

“Aaron’s sick and I think it’s your fault,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, no, not like that. I just- he’s being sick and I know that it’s because he’s been bottling everything up since the funeral which wasn’t really a funeral but oh, you know what I mean. I just- nothing I do will make him feel better. He needs you. All of you.”

On the other side of the line, Derek scoffed. “Jessica, Hotch is strong. Are you sure he’s not just got food poisoning or something?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough for that to happen.”

“Look Jessica, I’ll get the team together but I don’t know what you want us to do. Hotch made his decisions, and we can’t forgive him at the drop of a hat. We all need time to process.”

“Derek! He lost his wife to this job, are you really going to stand by as he loses himself trying to save all of you? I have never asked for anything from any of you, but Aaron needs you now. He’s just too scared of rejection to admit it.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Morgan hung up and Jessica sighed.

“Jessie?” Aaron called out.

“Hey Aaron. What happened?” she asked, acting like nothing had happened.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered.

She pressed a hand to his stomach. Damn him and his emotional constipation that meant all of his pain manifested physically.

“I know. I know. But it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you’re going to eat something.”

He nodded and let her move him around as she pleased. The weight he had lost made her cringe. The last time he had looked so weak, he was seventeen and his father was dying of lung cancer.

The team all arrived at the same time, all in their pyjamas.

Aaron saw them and turned away. “Jessie, what are they doing here?”

“You need them Aaron. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need them.”

He shook his head as the medication Jessica had made him take after weeks of avoidance caused his filter to vanish and fuzziness as to what he was doing. “Don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah you do man. I’m sorry for how I was acting. I know you trust us and I never thought about how everything must have made you feel because I was angry,” Derek said.

Hotch shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?” Derek asked.

Hotch didn’t respond, so Derek sat in front of him instead. “You’re forgiven Hotch. I promise.”

Hotch just stared but relaxed ever so slightly and didn’t protest when the other members of the team gave him small smiles or hugged him.

And the next day, they spoke to him, not as a boss, but as their friend. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was back where he belonged. Things weren’t perfect- they never were- but he no longer felt like the villain in his own story.

He felt like he was worthy of a small amount of love, which meant the darkness had not won. Not completely.

There were cases that were difficult. There were cases that made him want to quit, or curl into a ball and forget about how the outside world existed and was constantly hurt innocent people that didn’t deserve it. And there were cases that he knew would haunt him until the day he died.

Watching Jimmy lose his fight, the one thing that kept him going, just so he would be able to see his son one last time was something he would keep seeing every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how he was the first one to realise that was what he wanted.

The team had all been waiting in various places, and he knew it wasn’t really what he was supposed to be doing, but when he looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a desperate father. And he thought of Jack. If it were Jack, he would do whatever it took to see him one last time. He deserved to see his son. And his son deserved a father.

Because when he looked at Jimmy he did not see the unsub his team had been after. He saw a broken and damaged man that was doing what it took to survive. Under normal circumstances, he’d been frightened by that but so much had happened that he almost felt desensitised when it came to relating to unsubs. His hands still went cold at the sight of every crime scene he visited. The bureau therapist would say the fact that he clung to that feeling both at home and in the field was unhealthy, but the bureau therapist had also deemed Jason, Elle, Spencer, himself and Emily fit for work after their respective ordeals.

“This isn’t a trick is it? Because you’re a federal agent, this isn’t your job,” he said.

“I’m a father first. And your son is holding on so he can say goodbye to you. I’m not so heartless that I would deprive you of a goodbye.”

He pressed a hand to his mouth. “He’s really going to- I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Am I a horrible person for not being here sooner?”

Hotch still blamed himself for not being there when his mother died. “No. No you did your best and you cannot think like that. I promise, when it came to your son, you have done nothing wrong. I’ll give you some privacy.” He hated to add the second part but he had to. “And I don’t want to, but you must understand-”

“I broke the law and you need to arrest me. I know. That’s fine. Everything will be fine because you have let me say goodbye to my baby.”

Aaron watched them through the window, a single tear coursing down his cheek as that was all he would allow himself until he made it home.

Sometimes, it was not the cases that made him question the reason behind doing any of this, but these moments where there was nothing that anyone could have done. They spent so much time putting bad guys away, and for what? The universe to just throw other tragedies in people’s faces.

Ryan closed his eyes at the same time that Aaron looked away. The raw grief both parents were feeling was something personal. He already felt like an intruder. He saw the man comfort his wife, who’s sobs had died down to silent tears as she placed a final kiss to her boy’s forehead.

They comforted each other.

Aaron wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t saved Jack from George Foyet. If he would still be alive now, or if he would have just let Foyet kill him because a life without Jack was not one he was capable of surviving. He wondered if Haley had survived instead, would they have been able to comfort each other, or would she blame him for the loss of her son? If Jack hadn’t survived, Hotch did not want to think of what his response would have been because the darkness of it scared him.

No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no child should ever have to be that strong for their parent. He admired Ryan for holding on for as long as he did, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have been playing games with the other children and worrying about his favourite cartoon characters, not how many breaths he had left.

He stood outside for longer than he should have and he was gentler with the handcuffs than he ever remembered being. The last words he whispered were an apology that Jimmy did not want. Before he returned to the hotel, he stopped to see his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “And if I knew what to say, I would. But I don’t so please, just, find a reason to hold on. Anything.”

“Agent Hotchner, you gave my son the one thing he wanted. A chance to say goodbye to both his parents. That has to be enough for now.” She hugged him and was polite enough to not comment on how his own body shook with the tears he was unable to repress.

He gave her his card, and then he left her, alone, to process her losses.

On board the jet, he sat slightly apart from the rest of them, which they all took as their cue to leave him alone. Emily Prentiss had never liked listening to him, and so she took the seat opposite him. Hotch had to smile. That was the woman he knew. Not the one that was overcompensating for everything.

“I made you a cup of tea,” she said to him.

Hotch looked down at the mug and grimaced slightly.

“Jason did the same thing after the case with the serial arsonist. Do you remember? He was trying to get me to open up about how I related to the unsub.”

“Did you?”

Hotch shook his head, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose I did a little. He wasn’t really paying attention.”

Emily made a non-committal sound at that. “Look I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Ryan just- he didn’t even look like Jack, but when I saw him, I just- they were a normal couple. They didn’t deserve to lose him like that.”

“Nobody deserves to lose someone they love that much like that. But they do. And we can’t stop that. What we can do is stop the bad guys who hurt other people and we do, whenever we can. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He understood what she was saying, but he couldn’t accept it. Haley had been too good for him, and he deserved to have everything good taken from him because he hadn’t been able to save her when it had been his fault that she was forced into that situation.

She smirked. “And Rossi may have mentioned a woman making her way into your life. Beth is it?”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. And it is just a bike ride.”

“You should go. Even if nothing happens, training is better with a partner. And you won’t be betraying Haley. Or Jack. If this thing works out, it will be because Beth understands that Jack doesn’t want or need another mom.”

Hotch looked at her with soft eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I should go.”

He did, and it was such a success that they ended up going on more than one date. She was excited to meet Jack, and they both loved each other. Even the team, who were always weary of potential partners, seemed to accept her as one of their own.

It momentarily convinced him that love could survive the horrors of their job.

The sound of the gun that Diane Turner shot herself and Maeve Donovan with sounded louder than even the three shots he had heard over the phone when George Foyet took Haley from him. His ear started ringing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex close hers and lower her gun.

What had been thinking? Alex had already lost a son, and every case put the one she had just found at risk. Even now, she had the sense to look away. He was still holding his gun like there was something he could do.

Before he was aware of his actions, he had dropped it. Something that he always told people not to do, especially if the safety was off because you just couldn’t guarantee anything. The sound it made as it hit the ground was still nothing compared to Spencer’s sobbing.

Reid was on his knees, eyes closed as though that would stop him from seeing Maeve’s dead body, both her and Diane’s forming a pool around them. It would be another funeral for him to attend. It wasn’t fair. Reid was still just a kid compared to the rest of them, he didn’t deserve to see all the things he had been subjected to.

Hotch knelt beside him. “Reid?” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as quiet as he could.

Reid shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve done something. There were so many different endings to this series of events and at least half of them involved Maeve living and me dying, which is something everyone could have learnt to live with.”

“Spencer. That isn’t true,” he said, a lot more firmly.

Spencer’s sobs had calmed to hiccups. “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

“I know,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around him. He felt Reid go limp against him as more sobs wracked his body. Reid was resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder and on instinct, he felt himself stroke the younger one’s hair, the same way he did to Jack when the little one couldn’t sleep.

He knew that grief caused people to go numb. When Reid pulled away, he kept one hand on his arm to stop him from being an idiot. Only Alex was still there, hovering by the side lines. The others had gone to stop the police from coming in too soon. They were giving Spencer the space to process.

Hotch wished they hadn’t. Jason and Emily were the ones that Reid turned to when he needed something. And if not them, then Derek and maybe JJ. But Jason and Emily were gone and Derek and JJ were dealing with other things.

And he was the only one who’s partner had ever been murdered by an unsub. He just didn’t know how to provide comfort. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell Spencer that everything was going to be fun and he would recover because the truth was that he would never be the same. Aaron still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t possible, but sometimes his lower torso still ached the same way it had when Foyet first pushed the knife in. He wouldn’t lie to Spencer, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

“I need- I never got to hold her. I need to hold her. Hotch let me go! I need to hold her, just once. Just once so I can remember her.”

The last time Hotch touched Haley, she was barely warm, but still lifeless. It overshadowed every single casual touch they’d shared since they were seventeen and it was all he could ever think of when he remembered her. He would give anything to forget the last time he held her.

Perhaps one day he would. But Spencer had an eidetic memory.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

Spencer shoved him. He wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but Hotch hadn’t been expecting it and he lost his balance slightly. They both looked down at Reid’s hands. Reid looked at them like he couldn’t believe they were part of his body. Hotch looked down at how pure they were.

Reid had killed unsubs when it was the only way to save other people, but he was still innocent in so many other ways. He’d never hit the table to intimidate a suspect because that was Hotch’s job. He was the one that played bad cop, whilst they trusted Reid to successfully empathise.

Reid had never killed a man with their bare hands.

Hotch momentarily let go of Reid, and Reid tried to use that opportunity to grab Maeve’s hand. But Hotch was quicker, and before Spencer knew what was going on, Hotch had grabbed both his wrists and was holding them in front of his chest.

Both their eyes shone with tears.

“Let me go,” Spencer begged.

“No. Spencer listen to me. You don’t want your one and only memory of her touch to be when she couldn’t respond. You know better than me that she is going to be unresponsive. You won’t be able to kid yourself into thinking that she did indeed clasp your hand. Her perfume will be tinged with the stench of blood and she will be cold. Remember Maeve as the woman that made you smile. That was warm and bright. Not like this.”

Spencer relaxed against him, the tears falling. Hotch pulled him closer, holding him tight. At some point, Alex crept forward and gave the two of them a hug. She told them they needed to go. Reid shook his head. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down the stairs.

“I want to go to my apartment,” Reid stated after they took his statement. Hotch had sat with him the whole time. Reid’s monotony scared him and he wondered if the look on the officer’s face was the same as the one that been on Strauss’ after he spoke about Foyet.

“Spence,” JJ said, reaching for him.

“My apartment. Please. Hotch?”

Hotch knew why Reid had asked for it to be him. Because if he declined, Reid could come after him. Say that when Haley died, leaving behind a young son whose memories of his father were patchy and disrupted, Hotch had refused to stay with anyone. Instead, he had sat in the darkness of his apartment in case the monsters from Jack’s dreams came to life once more.

“If you need anything,” he said with a sigh, because he was the only one that understood.

Spencer nodded. But Hotch knew he wouldn’t.

They drove in silence. Hotch itched to say something but what? He understood what it was like to lose the one person that made your life better, but at the end of the day, he hadn’t been there. He had heard it over the phone. Spencer would see the images every time he closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

Reid shook his head, exited the car but did not close the door.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid’s pause meant he heard him. His lack of response meant he didn’t have any words of comfort that would not be lies. Perhaps that hurt more than Jessica’s sad smile when he got him and distractedly ruffled Jack’s hair, unable to focus on what he was saying properly.

He’d made the right decision in not letting Spencer touch the body. He knew he had. It didn’t stop him from wrapping Jack up in the coat Haley had picked and going to her grave. He knew Jack was missing his mom, so the trip served a dual purpose.

Jack liked to lay flowers at the graves that didn’t have any because- in his words- it would mean everyone would be as happy as his mommy was. As he did that, Hotch spoke.

“I didn’t let him touch her. I need to convince myself that was the right thing, but what if it wasn’t? I have years of touches to hold onto. He had never met her before then. What if one day, he wakes up and resents me because he can’t even imagine what she feels like?”

If Haley were alive, she would rub his shoulder and tell him he was a good man that needed to stop doubting every decision he made because he knew his team better than they knew themselves and that Reid would never hate him.

Be annoyed at him for specific things he did and lash out because he was in the wrong, yes. But hate him? Never.

Only Haley wasn’t alive. Hotch sighed, called Jack over and hesitated slightly when Jack held his hand out. Hours before, he had been holding a gun, ready to fire. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now another piece of Spencer had been lost to the abyss.

When Spencer didn’t return to work immediately, he was relieved. At least he was taking the time he needed to grieve and recover instead of rushing back and never dealing with the pain until it got so bad he could hardly breathe without holding back a sob.

He turned up on their case. Everyone else was excited to see him, because it meant he was alive. Hotch wasn’t so sure. Reid had never known anything other than the BAU, and that was partially his fault for not putting his foot down and telling Gideon the kid needed more experience before working as a profiler.

But there were people that needed saving, so he let it go.

And then he heard Spencer tell Dave how he wasn’t sleeping because he kept seeing Maeve asking him to dance but he had never been able to touch her. It was like a punch to the gut. Spencer had never touched Maeve because Hotch had told him not to, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t hear Dave’s response. He used that moment to tell Alex he needed the bathroom. She seemed slightly taken aback but shifted out the way for him.

When Spencer came in after that, he seemed peaceful. He had danced with Maeve. Now, even though it wasn’t real, he had his closure because he’d been able to touch her, which was all he had wanted. Maybe it had something to do with being touch-starved.

Hotch thought of Haley. What would he give to see her one last time? Just to say he was sorry?

He was telling the team about a missing girl, but it was getting harder to breathe, and he couldn’t make out what the screen in front of him was displaying.

Before he knew what was happening, the world around him was going black and the frantic shouts of his team were not enough to bring him back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

“Haley?” he whispered.

She looked beautiful. Her dress shone, and her hair was the same blonde it had been the day she’d gone into witness protection. She looked like the girl that had exploded into his life and taught him how to say I love you. That had taught him the meaning of light and who had changed his life forever.

“Hi baby,” she said with a grin.

He smiled. His light had come back to him.

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— 💌 ; a love letter from @kyriaan

long post below regarding broken records. cw includes adultery, physical assault, toxic relationships, broken records spoilers, and mature content

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

Okay! I finally had time to actually sit down and properly read chap 5 cause ill be damned and burned if i dont pay special attention to one of my favorite series here! Rather drown or be sting by bees slowly 😒

🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙃 I for the first time don't even know where to start so allow me to be all over the place cause my emotions are also all over the place with this chapter ✌️

Ill start by y/n's dad caN GO FUCK HIMSELF? Like okay sir you might have fallen in love with our mom (ill give him the benefit of the doubt regarding his feelings) BUT SIR YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HONEST? FROM THE BEGINNING? ALSO BRUH YOU KIDDING ME??? SIR YOU LEGIT ABANDONED YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER AND THEN YOU PROCESS TO 'LEAVE US' I- YOOOOO I WOULD BITCH SLAP HIM I SWEAR!!

Also ALSO ILL SCREAM FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK NO KID HAS EVER TO BE BLAMED FOR BEING BORN!! Y/n mom's line: 'we have to atone for our sins' its legit BULLSHIT it wad NOT y/n fault her DAD COULDNT KEEP HIS DICK INSIDE HIS PANTS NOR ITS Y/N FAULT THAT HER DAD CHEATED!!! ATONE FOR OUR SINS MY ASS!! the father is the one that has to take responsibility for all this shitty situation we do NOT nor any kid out there in this situation has to be taken accountable by this!!

And now Suna 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 bruh im just gonna cry... Everything he does just makes me heart swell i feel so cozy when i read his parts like how sweet and present he is I- bruh I never had that... Actually seeing y/n breaking up with him when shes clearly falling in love with him just breaks me cause Girl for real Suna would be there for you... I get it shes afraid and shes acting on that fear but girl... Pls he truly loves you deeply not everyone is like your dad. There are happy endings. There are good people Sunas one of them pls 🥺🥺🥺 also MY LOVE TSUMU BEING A SUPPORTIVE FRIEND EVEN THO SUNA GOT THE GIRL BRUH TSUMU I FUCKING LOVE YOU MY CHILDISH YET ADORABLY SMUG BOY 😭😭😭😭😭

Nagisas a bitch btw ✌️ so far i see no redemption not excuse in what she did so far. I get her reasons but that does NOT excuse her behavior. She has to lash out at her cunt of a dad not at a innocent woman who was also a victim all along. Nor even her half sister. I get her mentality behind this but doesnt excuse her behavior at all- its basically the same as being a victim from a bully and playing bully after aswell.

Overall YOU MADE ME CRY AGAIN SUKI! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS BUT ALSO UGH MY HEART SUKI!

[ from suki ]

BROKEN RECORDS IS UR FAVE SERIES??? babe pls you’re gonna me cry !! nah nah fr his dishonesty caused all this mess. YEAHA SAKLAA tbh I love mama lucy but her words of ‘atoning for their sins’ or her mindset of ‘we don’t deserve to be happy when we’ve hurt others’ really messed up YN. she was only 21 and vulnerable with all the shambles happening in her family + the sudden assault from nagisa, that when her mother said those words, she struggled to let go of it. to her, it became like a final verdict that dictated how she lived her life.

SUNA URGHHH PLEASE GIVE SUNA A CHANCE HE HAS PURE AND GOOD INTENTIONS BUT I CANT BLAME HER EITHER AHSJAKA. and the comparison of nagisa being a bully’s victim only to become the next bully is true. nagisa should lash out at their shitty excuse of a father. ALSO AAAAHH THE NEXT CHAPTER (007) IS WORSE AHSJKAAL

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

I know shins attractive I mean mans perfect?? Does he even have any flaw?? And the way he cried when he got his jersey MYGOD FHDHFHFJSKS but I still look at him and im like.... Hmmmm nah i wouldnt date him its just not my... Do i dare say type? Cause i dont think i have a type ghfhfisofbd but like I just 🧍‍♀️

I love him i just dont love him i guess

The makeout scene tho ill give you that 🥵🥵🥵 made me bark (i would still walk out next day like was a good fuck kita byeeee🚉🏃‍♀️💨)

... More drama regarding mari... And you said this will have like 10 chapters... And from 8 on will be angsty.... 🙂 *traumatized noises*

[ from suki ]

YUUHHH KITA IS PERFECT HERE AHSJKAA IDK MAYBE ITS MY SIMPING FOR NAOYA CONVERTED TO KITA ALREADY BEING PERFECT AS HE ALREADY IS AND I AMPED IT UP BCOS THE SIMP MODE IS ACTIVATED AHSKAA. the make out scene !! pls sir i’m on my knees spare some love in ur heart AAAAAAHHHHHH. also. i assure you. businessman! kita got game. he’s gonna make you walk funny if you give him the chance HSJKA

yeah i just finished writing the outline for track7 right now and the drama is HSJKAA it gave me a headache sobs

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 006

I want to give you my usual thoughts on the new chapter and at the same ahm...

I just saw myself on Suna... Deeply....and it kinda slapped me harder than i was expecting...there were too many things from him giving himself to mari/treating her like he wants to be treated... To deleting his best friend from social media thanks to his girlfriend... And it really hurt me ahah..

I would vent but.. Yeah

But yes this chapter i saw myself in suna and i had to take quite the long breaks cause it was getting to me 😅😅😅 also if anything i learned from my experiences is that MARI SCREAMS RED FLAGS and even Osamu can see that pls

I would honestly end Mari there, i wouldnt even bother to just retort i would walk my way into to the damn apartment and fucking take Suna for myself cause Mari does not deserve him. Shes manipulative, and in a way abusive.. Not allowing him to keep contact with his best friend his a total redflag and o know its because Suna had feelings for y/n and vice versa but Suna never gave het a reason to distrust him.

The moment he said he was best friends with y/n and was single she immediately clinged himself to him and for what? To then dump him like he was trash...

He gave himself to her, he proved he was there for her he even took her back this boy deserves the fucking world and its not Mari...

I kinda want to say it's not y/n at this point either cause the way she broke his heart was kinda the same Mari did.. Y/n disregarded his feelings and just broke it up.. Mari disregarded his feelings abd broke it up... But y/n stated from the very beginning that she would eventually break up Mari just shrugged and didn't care so i can in a way forgive y/n i cant forgive mari

Besides y/n was supportive from the beginning while Mari was obsessive and controlling.

Another really insanely well written chapter as usual (albeit this one making me ball my eyes off harder because yeah) but yes~ eagerly waiting for the next one~

Take your time tho 😌🙌

Mari can go fuck off 💗💓💞💕❣️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍💯💝💖💋💅

Suna x y/n pls

Y/n deserves to have a healthy love life with someone she loves (hence why npt Kita) and loves her back

And Suna deserve the fucking world and be treated right

[ from suki ]

NAHHHH cuz when you said suna was treating mari the way he wanted YN to treat her... that’s right. on point. they’re all so complicated sobs. MARI IS A WALKING RED FLAG THAT OSAMU CAN SMELL FROM A MILE AWAY. ALSO yes mari is manipulative and borderline possessive when it came to suna. like yeah, let’s be real, she could tell a long time ago that suna was in love with YN and it made her insecure / jealous, but the whole time, YN kept her distance. she was supportive over their relationship from afar as to make mari comfortable. suna also did everything he could to make sure she was well cared for. for three years, he was focused on her and only her. he gave love a second chance despite being brokenhearted. suna never mari a chance to doubt because he, too, was sure he could be happy with her.

until mari left him.

and now suna is back with YN because they will always have each other. but honestly,,,if we think about it, if mari never broke up with suna or at least gave him the chance to explain himself - if mari didn’t do the exact thing YN did to suna years ago - he honestly would’ve been really happy with mari. they were going well. like yeah mari has always been toxic by pushing suna’s boundaries and asking him to unfollow his own best friend on social media, but he did it anyway. because he trusted their relationship. he wanted the best for them.

also yeah, the parallels between mari and YN were intentional !!

HEHEHEHE THE KITA X YN SHIP everyone loves them im so happy about that bcos kita is so amazing in my eyes. PREACH FOR THAT THO !! SUNA DESERVES THE BEST. SUNA DESERVES TO BE TREATED RIGHT. HE DESERVES THE WORLD AND SO MUCH MORE

thank you for taking the time to send me this, kya, it means a lot to me and it motivates me to work harder on the future chapters !! <33

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #besties #series ( broken records )#tw: physical assault #tw: toxic #tw: toxic relationships #tw: adultery

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Can I request an angst to fluff Tarlos fic with Carlos having Memory loss??

thank you so much for the prompt, my lovely! sorry it took so long! please keep sending me prompts! BTHB masterlist here

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: memory loss

fandom: 911 lone star

ao3

Waking up in the hospital is becoming all too familiar. Being the one in the bed is less so, but Carlos has had his fair share of hospital trips. He knows the drill.

It’s difficult to turn his head, but he manages enough to catch sight of TK in the chair next to his bed, his hand lying limply in Carlos’s own. Carlos twitches his fingers and TK starts, eyes searching out his.

“Carlos,” he breathes, half-rising from the chair only to immediately slump back down, breaking out in harsh sobs.

Carlos frowns. “What -” he starts, but his throat is dry and raw and even breathing is a little painful right now. TK clearly notices and hastily wipes his eyes, sending Carlos a wobbly smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just… God, Carlos.” He shakes his head and stands up, kissing Carlos’s knuckles. “I’ll get the doctor. We can talk later.”

Later, as it turns out, isn’t for a few more hours, after Carlos has gone through every test imaginable. The doctors don’t say a word about what happened, aside from, “You’re very lucky, sir,” and, “We’re glad to have you back with us, sir.”

TK is similarly quiet, his leg bouncing nervously as they wait for the doctor to pronounce his verdict. Talking is easier now, but Carlos doesn’t want to push his luck so he answers the doctor’s questions and refrains from demanding responses of his own.

When they’re finally alone, night has started closing in. TK perches on the edge of Carlos’s bed, carefully avoiding touching him aside from where their fingers intertwine. TK’s barely let go of his hand since Carlos woke up.

Carlos waits patiently, studying his husband’s face. TK looks terrible, and even if Carlos suspects he himself doesn’t look any better, he can’t help but be concerned.

Eventually, TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up from the bedsheet, finally meeting Carlos’s eyes. “How much do you remember?” he asks quietly.

“Not much.” Carlos shakes his head. “Nothing.”

TK nods. He takes a long time to speak again, his free hand fidgeting with the sheets. “You were attacked. I only know what your partner and the doctor told me, but it was bad, Carlos. Multiple stab wounds, you hit your head badly, they strangled you… When I got the call -” He breaks off and looks away, brushing away tears before clearing his throat. “When I got the call, they told me I needed to get here because they didn’t know if…”

TK trails off and, this time, he doesn’t try to talk again. He doesn’t need to; Carlos knows full well what that ‘if’ means.

“Ty…”

“No.” TK says firmly, attempting a smile. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay, the doctors said so, and you’ll be home in a few days. So.”

Carlos doesn’t bother arguing. He simply smiles back at his husband, and hopes that he’s right.

It starts small.

He forgets the time, a lot - but that’s normal, right? He’s pretty much confined to the sofa or the bed while he heals, and it’s not like there’s much to do but binge bad daytime tv. It’s only natural that he’d lose track of time.

He’s not great at remembering to take his prescription either, but that’s what TK’s for - or so he jokes. Carlos feels guilty for that, kind of; he’s thankful for TK’s presence and he knows he just wants to look after him, but he hates keeping TK here.

“You can go back to work, you know,” he says on the sixth day. TK pouts at him, folding his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Not until you’re healed.”

Carlos sighs, exasperated. “TK, I’m healed enough to go to the fridge and back by myself. Anyway, you’re one to talk, Mr Busted-His-Stitches-Two-Days-After-Being-Released-From-Hospital.”

“That was two years ago. And that’s Mr Busted-His-Stitches-Two-Days-After-Being-Released-From-Hospital-Strand-Reyes to you,” TK quips, but it’s clear his heart’s not in it. He sits on the couch (carefully, so as not to jostle Carlos) and meets Carlos’s eyes, twisting his wedding band anxiously. “I’m just worried. I could have lost you, and I hate the thought of me going back to work and then something going wrong.”

Carlos grimaces. “I get that, babe,” he says, lacing their fingers together. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine, I swear.”

TK sends him a dubious look. Carlos smiles and kisses his cheek.

“I promise I’ll call if I’m ever not fine,” he adds, which seems to mollify TK. They resume their movie, though Carlos can’t exactly remember much of what happened. He doesn’t ask, though; it’s probably nothing, right?

So, Carlos might be panicking.

He doesn’t know where TK is. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t be too much of an issue, but it’s two in the morning and TK’s not in bed, nor is he in the house. Carlos knows TK must have said something to him earlier, he wouldn’t just leave like that, and he can feel the memory lurking at the edge of his mind but he can’t get to it and he doesn’t know where TK is.

Yeah, Carlos is definitely panicking.

TK picks up on the fourth ring, his voice muffled from sleep, but clearly concerned. “Carlos?”

Carlos collapses on the sofa, still confused, but mostly just thankful to hear TK’s voice. He lets the silence drag on, trying to figure out how to explain why he’s calling in the middle of the night whilst also not worrying TK too much.

Unfortunately, this accomplishes the exact opposite.

“Carlos, talk to me,” TK demands, sounding a lot more awake now. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I woke up and you weren’t there,” he says slowly, keeping his voice as level as possible. “I just… I’m a bit confused.”

TK’s frown is audible. “Carlos, I’m at work.”

“Oh.”

And - oh. Carlos does remember now. Sort of. Well, not exactly, but he recalls TK saying something about heading out and ‘see you soon’ and - Carlos is an idiot.

He flushes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming home.”

“What? TK, no, it’s fine -”

“I’m coming home,” TK repeats, more forcefully this time, cutting Carlos off. “I’ve cleared it with my dad, I’ll be back as fast as I can.” A pause, and when TK speaks again, his voice is painfully soft. “We’ll figure this out, Carlos. I promise.”

Carlos nods, though he knows TK can’t see him. “TK?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay on the line with me?” A part of Carlos feels silly for asking, but the panic from earlier hasn’t truly faded. It’s not just tonight either; he knows that something’s been wrong since the attack, and he can’t help but worry despite himself.

TK’s answer comes without hesitation. “Of course.”

“You had a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor explains. “It’s common to experience some degree of memory loss after such an event.”

“Right, but - but it can be cured, can’t it?” TK asks, his left hand squeezing Carlos’s right in a death grip.

The doctor gives him a sympathetic smile, which does nothing to reassure either of them. “I’d say it can be managed.”

“Managed? What does that mean?” TK glances anxiously over at Carlos. Carlos tries for a smile, but he has a feeling that it comes out more like a grimace.

“From what you’ve told me, I’d say what you’re experiencing, Officer, is more on the milder side,” she says. “There are a couple of treatments we could try, but in your case I wouldn’t recommend them. You’ll have to establish some compensatory strategies - basically, anything that will help to jog your memory.”

Carlos leans forward in his chair. “What sort of things would you suggest?”

“Routine is always a good start.” The doctor shrugs, folding her hands on the desk. “Written reminders, post-its, even the notes on your phone. Different things work for different people. I won’t lie to you, it’ll take some time. But, with any luck, you’ll be able to live your life just as normal soon.”

Carlos rolls over in bed, his arm reaching out for TK only to come into contact with a sticky note instead. It’s been like this since they saw the doctor two weeks ago - TK had gone a little crazy and practically bought the store’s entire supply of post-its in a panic.

There are reminders stuck up all over the apartment, several of them with a copy of TK’s shift schedule written on them, though getting TK to go back to work had been a fight all of its own. The multiple post-its are a concession on Carlos’s part, a condition on TK’s.

Carlos had told him it wasn’t necessary, but he appreciates the effort. And… It helps. More than he can really express.

Something else TK has taken to is leaving a note in the bed whenever he gets up before Carlos. Even if he’s still in the house which, judging by the clattering of pans and soft cursing coming from the kitchen, Carlos is pretty sure is the case today. He smiles softly and opens his eyes, squinting at the post-it.

Reminder, it reads. I love you.

(ps making breakfast)

Carlos huffs a laugh, shaking his head. After laying there for a few seconds, he heaves himself up and heads towards the kitchen, post-it in hand.

He watches TK in silence for a while before speaking. “Got your note.”

TK jumps at the sound of Carlos’s voice, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the open cupboard door.

“Careful. We don’t want two of us with memory issues,” Carlos jokes.

TK shoots him a dark look. “Not funny,” he grumbles.

Carlos grins and walks over, wrapping his arms around TK from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “It was a little bit funny.”

“It wasn’t,” TK insists, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He turns so that they’re facing each other and winds his arms around Carlos’s neck. “What did you think of the note? Too much?”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything.”

Carlos laughs as TK’s mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“That’s so rude, Reyes,” he says.

“That’s Reyes-Strand to you,” Carlos corrects, grinning. “And you did ask.”

TK smiles properly then, and Carlos can’t help but to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he murmurs when they break apart.

They stay like that for a while, until Carlos sniffs the air, raising an eyebrow. “Are we sure I’m the forgetful one?”

TK frowns, then curses, turning to desperately attempt to salvage the burnt remains of breakfast. Carlos just laughs, his heart filling with love for his husband all over again. He’ll rescue TK at some point but for now…

For now, Carlos thinks he’ll just enjoy the moment.

#bad things happen bingo #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #lone star #tk x carlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #hurt carlos #hurt/comfort #memory loss #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Homecoming: Part One

Read PART TWO here!

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Estela and Taylor spend one last night in San Trobida before returning to La Huerta and facing their future. This was going to be a two-parter, but I got all long-winded, so four-parter is more like it.

Word Count: 3342

Chronology: After 'The New Taylor' and 'A Ride to Remember', sort of midway through 'Inheritance'.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic

Thanks for reading!

Parrying the blows of her brother’s sword with the easy grace of a well-honed professional-- she had been doing this since her early teens-- Estela seemed to dance across the basement floor, totally in her element. Then Aleister lurched forward, and she jumped back, effortlessly dodging his attack. But in the landing, she found herself, finally, unstuck. Under the sudden weight of her whole body, her wounded leg gave way, and she stumbled. In a split second, Aleister’s cautious approach fell away and he pushed his advantage before Estela could recover. With a final flick of his blade, she was disarmed.

Estela laughed at the look of plain shock on Aleister’s face at his own victory. “Not half bad,” she commented, impressed that he hadn’t fumbled around taking advantage of her weakness. Her healing leg injury had been a source of great frustration-- despite regular massages of the Vaanti-made ointment concocted using the leaves from The Celestial’s roof, improvement had plateaued. The last thing she wanted was to be babied. “You’re still wasting too much energy with flamboyant gestures. This isn’t ballet-- it doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t appear that ‘pretty’ has hindered my performance,” Aleister panted, recovering just enough to be rather pleased with himself.

Offering a hand to take Aleister’s sword, Estela grinned. “Like I said, not half bad. Come on, hermano. We’d better give Tio a hand in the kitchen; it sounded like he had a big spread planned.”

Brother. That was still new. Only in the lead-up to his hand-fasting to Grace a few months prior had Estela gone so far as to utter that word in relation to Aleister. He reacted as he always did, a double-take, then his cheeks going immediately pink. It had been so long he’d craved that acceptance… now that it was there, it seemed it would take him some getting used to.

All attempts at helping Nicolas out with the farewell dinner were met with strong resistance. Some butting of heads later, Estela realised it really wasn’t a hill worth dying on; if her tio wanted to do something special for them all, she’d just have to step back and let him. After all, it could well be some time before he’d have this opportunity again. Come the next day, she, Taylor, and their friends, would all be on their way, and Nicolas would once more be left to an empty house.

As much as she tried to join in the energetic conversations over dinner, Estela found herself distracted. With her return to La Huerta, she’d be taking steps to move on with her life; to come to terms with the grief she’d suffered and get some closure. And then… she was faced with working out what the hell kind of life she’d forge for herself; something that had been made all the more complicated since Aleister had seen fit to bestow upon her half of everything he’d been left after Rourke’s demise. She’d made good progress on coming to peace with that connection, but she was not fool enough to be under any illusions… she still had a long way to go.

The subject of conversation turned to the case against Lundgren-- and the subsequent clearing of Jake’s name-- and Estela shook herself back to the present.

“The evidence is fairly damning,” Aleister was saying as he loaded his fork with beef, egg and plantain. “Certainly, the prosecutors were pleased. That we have access to every file my father ever touched, and a wealth of video and audio recordings, it would be difficult indeed to look at what’s presented and not come back with a guilty verdict.”

Jake smiled wryly, the grin failing to make his eyes. “I’ll give ya one thing, Malfoy, your old lady ain’t a dame I’d want to get on the wrong side of. I guess… we’ll see. Worst case, settlin’ down out here wouldn’t be half bad.”

“We won’t rest until you’re home,” Grace declared resolutely, her dark eyes shining. “That awful man isn’t going to be remembered as anything other than a power-hungry conniving brute. I’ll stand up and make a witness statement in court myself!”

She had, Jake knew, her own haunting personal experiences of seeing that exact brutality at close quarters. It made him sick. “Hey-- I won’t have you dredging up all that. Not for me--”

Grace spoke across him, calmly but firmly. “It’s my stand to take. I had quite enough of being helpless as Rourke’s prisoner; I need to take my power back.”

Jake’s mouth snapped shut. He wasn’t about to argue with that. “The poor defense won’t know what hit it.” The words rang hollow as exchanged a subtle dark look with Estela. The optimism was nice and all, but experience had told the both of them that the world was a corrupt place and ‘fair’ barely counted for squat.

“I know you think I’m naive,” Grace said, “and maybe I am, but the fact remains that we’re not giving in.”

Taylor grinned, confident because she had to be. “I didn’t offer my life force to some crystal alien only for you to not get back to your family. This is a matter of ‘how’ and ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

Beside her, Estela nodded. “Look, we’d be crazy if we just go in assuming this is gonna be a cakewalk. But Pollyanna here is right; we’ll make it happen. We’re not the kind of people who just roll over to injustice, and anyone who thinks they can force us is in for a painful lesson.”

“Dang, Princess… I think you broke Eeyore. She’ll be a motivational speaker at this rate….”

“It’s Katniss, cabron. Y vete a la mierda.”

Jake sniggered into his beer. So, motivational speaker was a little stretch.

With dinner over, the group started disperse. As Estela made to make a start on clean-up, Taylor gently turned her around.

“I’m pretty sure me and Al can handle this. Make the most of tonight.”

Estela looked out through the window to the front porch, where Nicolas had settled with his flask of rum. She took a deep breath. Taylor was right; she couldn’t just let this time pass her by.

Cold beer in hand, she pushed open the front door and stepped out. “It seems like Aleister and Grace’s first bandeja paisa was a hit.”

Nicolas beamed at the sight of her, and clinked her bottle as she sat down in the other chair. “Of course. Either that or they are exceptional actors.”

“No chance,” Estela laughed. “You’ve seen the looks he gives poor Taylor’s cooking. Her confidence has been shot since they’ve been here. At least Grace is polite about it.”

“You must be excited. I’ve said for so long that your potential was being wasted, and now… the world is your oyster. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Estela shifted in her chair and took a long drink.

“What’s that look for, mija?”

“Well, yeah, I’m excited. Terrified, but…. If I finish this degree, I really should think of what I want to do with it. And, well, all that money Aleister’s pushing on me.”

“That gilipollas. You poor thing.”

“Actually, I’m almost getting used to the idea. As much as it freaks me out, Mom would have been so happy to know I’ve got a leg up.” A small smile crept to Estela’s face. “I keep seeing so many things I could help with. Like the schools and universities-- how much could recovery be accelerated if people had better opportunities to learn? Or physically rebuilding so much that had been destroyed, or actually protecting the wilderness of this beautiful place?” She blushed as she caught herself getting passionate. “Rourke International has the capacity to do so much; we could actually have tourists coming here. That hasn’t happened in my lifetime!”

Nicolas chuckled, looking at his niece with clear affection. But he saw the cloud of doubt across her face.

“I…,” she continued, “I just don’t know that I have the right. We just got rid of one dictator, and Mom was collateral damage to a would-be dictator.” A would-be dictator who’s inescapably part of who I am. “Money comes with a lot of power. Even if I’m using it for what I think is good… I could cause a lot of harm.” By the time she finished, her voice was but a murmur.

“True. Alternatively, you could be one of those misers who sit upon their millions while the people around them starve and suffer, buildings crumble, and forests burn.”

“So, you’re saying I can’t win?” Estela demanded.

“I’m saying, the enemy here is ignorance. Ignorance of what greater impacts of your generosity might be, and ignorance of what suffering might go on if that generosity is withheld. The fact that you are even having these doubts tells me that you are not ignorant to the consequences of your actions.”

Estela huffed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose,” she grumbled after a little while, “that you’d let me be, even for a second.”

“Of course not! I might be getting on a bit, but I am by no means past letting you know when you ought to unstick your head from your own backside.”

Again, Estela fell quiet. She was not going to be existing in an echo chamber. She’d surrounded herself with people that she trusted, with strong opinions and varied perspectives; people who would not balk from challenging her when necessary. If she tried, she couldn’t become a tyrant, regardless of what blood coursed her veins. At any rate, she’d simply be-- for the most part, at least-- channeling funds to others better placed to make the change she wanted to see in her world. She could be as anonymous as she wanted. Perhaps… perhaps it would not hurt to put some faith in herself.

“I take it from your silence,” Nicolas said, “that you’ve realised that once again I’m right. Now, go back to happily daydreaming about all the good you will do.”

Estela sighed dramatically, but smiled at her uncle. “I’m really gonna miss you….”

“I can’t pretend I’ve been looking forward to waking to an empty house again. But the missing you will be temporary; that’s more than I could have dared to hope for not so long ago.”

The same was true for her. And there was no way in hell she’d let goodbye be forever, not now. “Yeah. You’ve got a good point.”

“Again?”

She snorted. “Shut up, Tio.”

_________________________

The night wore steadily on, and Taylor eventually had to retreat from socialising with Nicolas’ other guests to start making headway on her night-time routine. ‘Self-care’ was something she now had down to an art; she even made a point of noting down the steps taken each night so she could easily track what was most effective. By this point, she had a fairly solid schedule. Yoga was followed by a calming cup of mint or chamomile tea, sometimes accompanied by a hot bath-- though tonight it was too late for the nice long soak she’d prefer--, and then she’d wind down even further with a half-hour’s guided meditation. Jake teased her mercilessly, but she really didn’t give a damn. If she could de-stress just enough to keep the seemingly never-ending stream of horrifying nightmares at bay, he could laugh all he wanted.

Slowly, Taylor wiggled her fingers and toes, bringing herself back to the land of the living with a long exhale. Fifteen nights without being woken up by visions of her loved ones’ deaths was the best run she’d ever had, but if those nightmares were triggered by stress, then the imminent return to La Huerta might just be the trigger that would throw a spanner in the works.

The little dog, Fenix, stretched forward and licked Taylor’s toes.

“Okay, okay, I’m back! Was I ignoring you for too long? Thanks for not interrupting my meditation, I guess,” Taylor chuckled. Having the pet had done wonders for grounding her during her regular existential crises. Fenix had come a long way from the mangy worm-ridden creature they’d taken in; still scruffy even with a full coat of hair, she was now bright as a button, and with a tail that never seemed to stop wagging.

“You’d better enjoy having me to yourself while you still can, Nixie-- this time tomorrow, we’ll probably have Furball sleeping on the end of the bed as well.”

Happily oblivious Fenix rolled and tumbled in her human’s lap. Foxes with ice powers were far beyond her frame of reference, but she could sense that whatever Taylor was talking about made her happy, so naturally there was every reason to be in a good mood.

The door creaked, and a just-showered Estela entered the room, clad only in a towel.

“Hey. I heard you talking to Nix-- figured you’d finished your meditation.”

“Hey,” Taylor cooed, feeling herself practically melt as her wife reached down to stroke her hair. “I just finished; went pretty heavy on the self-care tonight, just to be safe. You ready for bed?” She let herself be helped to her feet, and wrapped an arm around Estela’s waist. “Last cuddle in your little single bed for a while.”

Estela smiled. “Last cuddle in our little single bed.”

Taylor changed into her pyjamas and nestled under the covers, waiting and watching in quiet contentment as Estela slipped into a singlet and a light pair of shorts.

“You are so, so beautiful, you know that?”

“Taylor, you tell me that ten times a day.”

“Just making sure you’re aware, lover.” Taylor pressed herself against the wall, making room on the tiny mattress.

“You ordered a cuddle, yes?” Estela kissed and nibbled along Taylor’s jaw, feeling a tremor of an exhale, then sat back to look into the sapphire gaze of her adoring wife. Beautiful just wasn’t big enough.

“So… how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Taylor ventured.

“A lot of things,” Estela admitted. “Getting on that plane to La Huerta is going to bring back a lot of stuff. And saying goodbye to Tio… well, let’s just say, we’d better have a lot of tissues packed.”

Taylor squeezed her tight. “It’s not forever this time. And I think he knows that-- otherwise you’d be leaving again over his dead body.”

That made Estela give a little snort of laughter, but then she shook her head, sighing. “I know the guilt I’m feeling is irrational. Tio is just so happy to see how much things have changed for me. He wants me to go out and live my best life. But that doesn’t mean I can stop myself feeling it, just like that.”

Taylor didn’t have a lot of life experience, but guilt? That, she knew all about. “We’re just going to have to keep talking to that irrational part of your brain, then. Honey, your tio thought you were dead for so long-- you coming back every now and then, smiling, on your way to healing… that’s just the most amazing gift you could give him. And maybe… it’s going to help him move on too.”

“Yes.” Man, I hope so. Estela knew that her uncle had closed himself off to the world. That he’d seen that he’d done his part in life, and then retreated from it. He joked around, but for so long he’d been broken inside. Now, they could make strides towards something better, together-- even if there was a distance between them. Now, Estela had hope for them both.

Taylor snuggled close, spooning her wife from behind, and leaving lingering kisses upon her neck and shoulders.

“What about you?” Estela asked softly, turning in the warm embrace so she could meet Taylor’s eye. “I guess this will feel like going home.”

“Yeah, I guess it will be. Something like that. It’s a very… it’s a very weird feeling, you know?”

“I can imagine. It’s going to be strange to be back on La Huerta without everyone. The village is gonna be like a ghost town.”

A small smile tugged at Taylor’s lips; in spite of her own worries. Estela sure was perceptive. “It’s kind of freaking me out.” Of course, Estela already knew that, but it had never hurt to actually put the words out there. It was quite clear that they both had to look forward to a crash course in moving on. But that they were alive, and together, and free to do so… it was everything they’d fought for. “I’m bursting to see Diego again, though. It must have been so much weirder for him these past months.”

There was a grumbling, grunting sound as Fenix settled herself into a nest made out of the clothes Taylor had left on the floor. Both women chortled. Nothing like a funny little dog to keep the mood light.

Estela tenderly stroked Taylor’s hair, loving her. “You’ll have a lot to catch up on. It’s gonna mean a lot to him to have you there.” She blushed. “It… means a lot to me to have you here.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

“Taylor, we all are. And you’re stuck with us. There’s nothing that can change that.”

As she looked into Estela’s soft gaze, Taylor’s heart swelled. If she knew anything at all, she knew that much. All she had to do was trust in that sweet certainty.

#endless summer #estela montoya #estela x mc #jake mckenzie #aleister rourke #grace hall #nicolas montoya #playchoices

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cosmic-hearts · 4 years

Text

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | one

lee donghyuck x female reader

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which even though you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, you won’t be getting your happy ever after.

next chapter >>

“Which dress would you like to wear tonight, miss?”

Not a pink dress. Donghyuck hates pink.

You resent yourself for it, but it’s the first thought that pops into your mind when the nice boutique lady presents your options to you: a peachy pink Alex Perry gown that reminds you of what you used to like when you were ten, a bold red Lia Stubella one that screamed movie star (except you clearly aren’t one), and a glamorous Elie Saab champagne silk dress that was honestly beautiful but had a plunging neckline that was a little too low for your comfort.

You eye the pink dress warily, remembering the first time you met Lee Donghyuck. Back when you had even less of a say in the clothes you wore, your mother had forced you into a stiff candy pink dress with ribbons all around the waist. You felt like a walking stick of cotton candy, but your mum insisted that you looked adorable. Donghyuck gave you the stink eye all throughout dinner, and when you privately asked him why, he mumbled something about having a raging hatred for pink.

It would be a hilarious anecdote if you could look back on it fondly with Donghyuck, safe in the knowledge that you two were best friends now, but reality is quite the opposite. You’re not best friends, neither are you two even friends.

No. Definitely not pink, you think to yourself, mentally crossing it out even though a part of you wanted to wear it just to see the look on his face, to elicit some sort of reaction from him; it didn’t matter if it was one of disgust. It would be better than nothing.

Because resentment was the only form of emotion he could ever seem to spare you.

—

Lee Donghyuck watches Sohui as she slings the tie around his neck and does a perfect knot, her deft fingers occasionally grazing his chest. She’s clad in a simple, off-shoulder white dress and wears minimal makeup, her inky black hair a glossy cascade down her back.

She looks like an angel.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” Her gentle voice lures Donghyuck from his thoughts and he smiles at her, placing an arm around her waist and drawing her close to him.

“You’re my girlfriend. Of course it’s okay.”

Her gaze is downcast, lips pouted in worry. “But your parents don’t know about me. And what about her—,”

“That’s why you need to come with me tonight. So they can know about you,” Donghyuck tries to keep his tone light to mask his worry; deep down, he too knows that tonight is going to be precarious and defining, and it could either make or break his relationship with Sohui.

When they reach the hotel, Donghyuck laces his fingers through hers, and he’s not sure if it’s to comfort Sohui or himself. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen at the intricate glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the artful statues of greek Goddesses posing in all their prehistoric glory, and of course, the people parading all around in their finest evening wear like nobility. It is moments like these when he’s painfully reminded of the sheer gulf between the worlds they come from; his reality exists only in her wildest dreams.

“Donghyuck-ah!”

He whirls round at the sound of his mother screeching his name, bracing himself for the whirlwind of interrogation that is sure to consume him. He tightens his grip on her hand, wondering if he and Sohui will make it out alive.

Mr Lee hurries towards him, the click-clack of her heels against the marble tiles like a mocking countdown towards his impending doom. As expected, she stops short when she sees Sohui, hand interlinked with her son’s, her gaze hardening into one of icy judgement. Mr Lee raises a questioning eyebrow but remains silent.

And so it begins.

“Who is this, Donghyuck?” Mrs Lee asks in a tone of apparent civility but she doesn’t bother masking her cold appraisal of Sohui as she assesses her simple dress, lack of jewelry and unimpressive hairdo, in stark contrast to her own immaculate styling and head-to-toe designer wear.

“Mother, Father, this is Kim Sohui,” Donghyuck says, wrapping an arm around Sohui’s shoulders, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

If looks could kill, Sohui would be writhing on the floor right now.

“I see. It’s nice to meet you, Sohui. How long have you been dating my son?”

The poor girl stares down at the floor, fidgeting. “Four months?”

“And you know that my son’s engaged? And he has been for a period of time way longer than four months.”

The color dissipates from Sohui’s cheeks and she pales instantly. “Yes, Mrs Lee.”

“We can deal with this later, mother—,”

“Mr and Mrs Lee!”

The Lee family meeting is cut short with the arrival of another family; your own.

Donghyuck’s eyes are immediately drawn to you; he clenches his jaw as a film descends over his eyes, that familiar feeling of mutiny washing over him.

He takes in your silk champagne dress, no doubt flown in from the most expensive Parisian or Lebanese designer. He takes in your flawless half-updo that’s been styled to perfection, not a curl of hair out of place. He takes in your polished, elegant strides, six-inch heels notwithstanding. Everything about you is immaculate and impeccable; you appear entirely self-possessed and composed, the very portrait of style and sophistication, grace and glamour.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you greet his parents, a cordial smile playing on your lips when his parents gush over how beautiful you look tonight.

“And who might this young lady be?” Donghyuck flinches when your mother asks, her sharp eyes pinned on Sohui like a predator does prey.

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Donghyuck’s,” Mrs Lee says, at the exact moment Donghyuck blurts out “my girlfriend”.

While everyone falls into stunned silence, anger radiating off his parents in potently palpable waves, Donghyuck’s eyes flit over to you immediately to gauge your reaction. Would this news be enough to shock you, to cause you distress, to cause your perfect facade to crumble for once? Because for once in your life, things weren’t going according to your perfect plan, and they were now out of your control? The very thought causes a sense of triumph to swell through his chest.

But you don’t even bat an eyelid.

Without missing a beat, you break out into a warm smile, extending your hand to Sohui’s. “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry about my son,” Mrs Lee says, absolutely flabbergasted, “we had absolutely no idea about any of this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you say, and though Donghyuck tries his hardest to read your expression, you do a perfect job at keeping it inscrutable; he’s unable to figure you out. “We might be engaged, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t date other people, right?”

Your parents look aghast at your flippant reaction, and it nearly causes you to giggle.

“Your daughter is so understanding, as always,” Mrs Lee gushes, “Hyuck really doesn’t deserve her.”

Donghyuck’s head hangs low as he clenches his fists, his mother’s final verdict like a dagger aimed straight for his heart.

He can never win against you.

—

After Mrs Lee banishes Sohui from tonight’s function, Donghyuck vanishes. You set off in search of him, feeling a sort of responsibility for what just happened even though you’re not exactly sure what you should be held accountable for.

You traverse through the crowded expanse of the ballroom, stopping every couple of minutes for people to gush over how lovely your dress is, how exquisite you look tonight (you were indeed the daughter of the largest fashion conglomerate in Seoul; there was no way anyone would tell you your fashion sense was hideous). You smile and either demur or thank them politely, depending on how sycophantic they choose to be. You’re good at playing the game; you’ve been raised your whole life learning the ropes of how to be a people pleaser, how to be charismatic and alluring, how to draw people to you and your cause.

And it’s always worked with just about everyone in your life. Except, of course, for Lee Donghyuck.

The one person you need to charm the most simply refuses to fall under your spell.

It’s frustrating, but more than that, it’s terribly unsettling; is he able to see through your veneer of poise and confidence to the weak, less-than-worthy girl you’re so afraid to acknowledge? You’ve always believed that vulnerability wouldn’t look good on you, and that’s why you try so hard, in every aspect of your life, to maintain that flawless guise, that charade of effortless excellence. Yet, with a single withering sneer or chilly glare, Lee Donghyuck manages to strike down that meticulously manipulated illusion you’d gone to great lengths to construct.

You don’t like it.

You shake off all unpleasant thoughts and slip on your game face as you step out onto the balcony where a familiar lone figure stands deep in thought, a forlorn silhouette in the darkness of the night. The wind whips through your hair as you move to stand next to him; you produce your shawl from your purse and wrap it around your bare arms.

“Hi.”

You don’t look at Donghyuck; a part of you is afraid to see that ever-simmering resentment on his face. But he makes no reply, gazing out at the cityscape beneath you two. You pluck up the courage to continue.

“I’m sorry about Sohui. She seems really nice.”

You hear him exhale, a heavy sound that dissolves into the breeze. Yet he remains silent.

“If you’d like, I can talk to Mrs Lee—,”

“Shut up.”

The words on the tip of your tongue grind to an abrupt halt and die. Donghyuck finally turns towards you, his dark eyes piercing through to your very core.

“Why did you do that?”

Steeling yourself, you match his stare. “I really do think it’s perfectly fine for us to be dating other people. I know you don’t like me, and I won’t force you to. But I just want to remind you that what needs to be done has to be done, when the time comes.”

Donghyuck smirks. “You think I’ll marry you?”

Onward with the diplomatic route you continue. “I hate to put it this way, but you have no choice. We were betrothed to each other since we were kids and we’re bound by a formal contract—,”

At this, Donghyuck grabs your wrist roughly and you lurch forward, torso mere centimetres away from his. He inches his face closer to yours; you can count the beauty spots splayed across the expanse of his honey-gold skin, and the musky scent of his cologne makes your head spin.

You almost gulp in his face. Almost.

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks, all sardonic bitterness gone from his voice. It almost sounds like a genuine question, like he really wants to know your opinion on the matter.

You take a few seconds to clear your head, to formulate a prudent and politically correct reply that your parents would approve of.

But Donghyuck seems to be able to read your mind. “I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”

You chew your lower lip in unease, avoiding his probing gaze. What do you really want? All your life, all you thought you really wanted was to fulfil all the plans your parents had laid out for you even before you were born. To be a good daughter to your parents, a good student to your teachers, a good heiress to the family company. And eventually, a good wife to Donghyuck. Because all these were the means to an eventual end—wealth, material success, approval from your parents, and with those, you’d assumed, would automatically come some form of happiness (a nebulous concept you never truly understood or appreciated). Why should you question your parents, when they’d told you time and again that they only had your best interests at heart?

But now, being faced with Donghyuck’s resolute gaze, the defiant tilt of his chin, with his fingers burning into your skin, you’re not so sure anymore.

What do you want?

“I-I don’t know,” you mutter softly, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind into the night. But Donghyuck catches it, and he doesn’t miss the quiver in your voice that tells him it isn’t very often you’re unsure of something and you admit it. His grip on your wrist loosens and he remarks, “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“What?”

“You not knowing something.”

Your cheeks almost colour with embarrassment. You snatch your hand out of his grip, take a step back and straighten up, ashamed of having let your mask of seamless composure slip, even if it was only for an instant. Looking him directly in the eye, you say in a sharp tone, “Don’t ever touch me again without my permission.”

With that, you turn around, your shawl flapping violently behind you in the breeze and hitting Donghyuck in the cheek.

He watches you return to the ballroom and disappear into the ceaseless sea of designer gowns and overpriced tuxedos, right where you belong. But he can’t forget the flash of vulnerability he’d seen in your eyes, the shadow of doubt that made him think maybe you weren’t the infallible robot he always believed you were.

Maybe you too, like him, want to break free from the confines of this cursed matrimonial match.

—

You sit at your desk, working on a history essay that you normally would have completed hours ago but it’s 7pm and you’re not even halfway through yet. You glance outside your bedroom window, or your ivory tower as you like to call it; your house was basically a castle set amid carefully cultivated gardens, and nights of rushing essays made you feel like Rapunzel stuck in an endless cycle of work.

Anyone would say you were practically a princess. Born with the privilege of not a silver but golden spoon in your mouth, you virtually had the world at your fingertips. Your every whim and fancy came true; all you had to do was ask and you would receive.

But no one understood that this just made it even more difficult to prove that you are worthy.

Do you even deserve everything you have? This was a nagging, disturbing question that you would likely never have the answer to.

Before you can delve too deeply into your existential issues, your phone pings with a text.

Lee Donghyuck

Hi.

You almost drop your phone. You had Donghyuck’s contact saved because your parents forced you two to text each other obligatory birthday wishes and congratulations whenever either of you did well in something. The last text was Donghyuck congratulating you on winning the debate nationals half a year ago. His texts always had this note of forced civility, like he’d rather be skinning a cat than sending you a text. But you hadn’t won anything recently, nor was it your birthday, so why did he deign to contact you?

Lee Donghyuck

Can we meet? I need to discuss something with you.

You can’t forget the way he’d momentarily disarmed you, or the way you’d callously left him on the balcony that night. Why would he want anything to do with you after that horribly awkward encounter?

You

When?

Lee Donghyuck

Right now, if you’re free.

It’s funny how your first thought is, what the hell am I going to wear? Then again, it’s not like you have regular midnight escapades with the boy who regards you as the bane of his existence; how would you know the dress code for such an occasion? You end up slipping into your baby pink Adidas tracksuit, the one you usually wear for your night runs—Donghyuck’s strange loathing for pink be damned. You have no intention to endear yourself to him, at least not tonight.

You slip out through the back gate and into the rose garden, where Donghyuck is waiting in the pavilion. His hands are in his pockets and he looks deep in thought, like he’s ruminating on contemporary problems of the 21st century when in reality, you’re sure he’s probably just dreaming about that girlfriend of his. He doesn’t even seem to mind your all-pink ensemble.

“Hey Donghyuck,” you say coolly, determinedly looking ahead of you and refusing to look at him, “let’s make this quick, please. I have an essay to write.” You almost immediately regret how petty that sounds, nothing like the businesslike tone you were striving for.

“Fine.” Did you imagine the mild disdain in his voice? “I just have a proposal for you that I think you might be interested in; I was wondering if you’d want to form an alliance.”

Now that's businesslike. You turn towards him, curiosity aroused. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to marry you; you know that clearly enough. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to marry me either.”

You remain silent, unsure where he’s heading with this.

“The thing is, we never really tried to get close to each other; maybe that’s why our parents are so insistent that we’d be a good match. My parents don't listen to me when I tell them I don’t want to marry you; they say that I’ll get over it, which is bullshit, because I know what I want and it’s not you,” he says, looking over at you, “no offence.”

You smirk. “None taken. Please go on.”

“So if we show them that we’re making the effort to get to know each other better, but it doesn’t work out in the end, maybe they’ll let us off. I mean, mine won’t, but you can tell your parents that you don’t want to marry me; they’ll surely listen to you because you’re literally their darling princess. My parents will have no say then.” The sneer in his tone definitely isn’t imaginary this time.

You consider this for a moment, trying to find loopholes in his plan. “What exactly does ‘getting to know each other better’ entail?”

At this, Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “I need you to keep an open mind about this because it’s for the greater good, Y/N. It’s going to be painful, but I think we should pretend to date each other.”

You keep your expression stoic when really, you feel your heartbeat picking up speed and a surge of heat diffuses across your cheekbones.

Lee Donghyuck never fails to surprise you.

“And your girlfriend is okay with this?”

“Yes, I’ve told her about it; she gave me her full support. After all, it’s all fake anyway. And this way we can break off our engagement faster, which is what we both want.”

You know you should say no but you can’t deny that this was indeed a rather expedient plan. And you would never admit it, but you can’t seem to suppress that clandestine urge that had been bubbling inside of you ever since that encounter with Donghyuck—the urge to, for once in your life, take control of your own decisions. To snatch the reins of your fate away from your parents, to do something for yourself instead of for the people around you. This would be your one and only act of rebellion, the lone stain of sin upon your spotless record of dutiful daughter. The thought fills you with a dark thrill of exhilaration and sends electricity charging through your veins, a feeling foreign to your body. Almost immediately you feel years younger, like an errant child about to undertake a secret mission in the forbidden forest.

“Deal,” you say, extending your hand to Donghyuck’s and finally meeting his gaze with your own. “I look forward to working with you, Lee Donghyuck.”

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crystalwillow · 4 years

Text

Without You, Part One

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Word Count: 3.2K

Taglist: @deansmyapplepie @schnitzelbutterfingers @rookie-ramsey @vibrantlyjaz @brycelahelalover @eleanorbloom

⚠️ Warning: Includes mention of death, pain and heavy sorrow. If you are easily upset by death, please stop reading here and I will be back soon with a happier fiction. If you really wanted to read it, and are now sad you won’t be able to, I send my deepest apologies and hugs to you. Thank you for your support, it means the world to me and keeps me motivated to keep going and creating new content. ⚠️

POV: Casey Valentine & Narrative.

==================

--- Casey Valentine ---

It had been years since I last knew what it was like to feel genuinely happy. To laugh and for it to not feel forced just so I was keeping up appearances, and people were convinced I was doing fine. With a genuine laugh came a genuine smile, and with a genuine smile? The deepest of connection with the person behind the reason for those two things. Truth is, I’d spent the last decade of my life never knowing where I would be, never knowing if I was ever going to settle in one place for the rest of my life. So I never let myself go on adventures, never lived life outside of studying at med school, and never gave myself the chance to fall in love. Because with love comes responsibility. And with that responsibility comes attachments, and those attachments... lead to you maybe, settling down and not moving unless it’s a mutual decision. How frequently I moved wasn’t even my own decision, so that’s why I couldn’t let myself fall for anyone. Because it would only ever end in broken hearts. Then when I graduated med school I made one of the biggest decisions in my life. I would move to Boston and complete my intern year and residency at one of the best hospitals in the world. Home to one of the greatest diagnosticians of all time. Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Author of Diagnostic Principals and owner of my heart when I travelled to my fantasy world. There was quite an age gap between us, ten years to be exact. But I knew when I was crushing on someone, and nobody around my age caught my eye the way he did. When I started my intern year, before I even got to my orientation, I was pulled out of the crowd by an attending. If I was just passing by and happened to catch a glimpse of him working, I would have recognized him almost immediately. But I was full of nerves that had just been heightened from being pointed at and also at the situation unfolding in front of us in the waiting room. That I didn’t notice who it was until after the fact. I went to change my scrubs for clean ones after successfully saving my first patient and was in a daze the whole time. He’d spoken to me and touched my hand. Ethan Ramsey, had touch my hand. Little did the two of us know at the time that the interaction we just had would be the start of a very long road to us finding our true happiness and being able to love each other publicly.

As I went through my intern year, he always seemingly found a way to be nearby to steal glances at me. Nobody else would see it but I could swear sometimes he would even... smile. He always checked up on me via email when I was suspended and awaiting my trial for killing a patient, even though that was never my intention. I wanted her to be able to live the rest of her life happily and the survival rate of the drug we, okay I stole, was higher than the chances of her passing away. Death still found its way to Mrs. Martinez. I regretted what I done every day. I still do. If it wasn’t for me being so ambitious and eager to give her a chance to get that picture she always wanted, she would still be wondering the halls of Edenbrook, gracing the staff with that lovely smile and wisdom of hers. Everyone loved her. Even Ethan. The only time of day where he didn’t care if people saw him smile was when he was taking a walk with her around the halls, listening to her chatter away about whatever she had been watching on TV that day or the previous night. One day after my roommates had all left for work, I was in my room at my desk still studying. Well reading at least. I was reading his book, it brought me some kind of solitude. A feeling that things would be okay, no matter the outcome of the ethics hearing. It was peaceful and I had a fresh mug of coffee next to me, when there was a knock on the door. I was stunned when I opened the door to find him standing there, a smile on his face and paper bag from a local coffee shop in his hand.

“I brought your favourite.”

He told me happily, almost like a smug kid that just proved their sibling wrong on what a parent had said, by asking the parent to clarify their statement. I stepped to the side and let him in, and we sat at the coffee table on the couch. “Ironically. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Could I get you some?” I asked as I smiled back at him. “I would... Love some. Thank you.” He said, smiling wider. Casey went to her room, retrieving her mug and the pot of coffee before going to the kitchen and grabbing him a mug and sugar, as well as a couple of those little milk pods you get. He made his coffee and we sat together chatting about anything to do with my life before I was at Edenbrook. What kind of student I was and where I graduated in my class. Of course when I told him I had graduated top of my class, he grinned proudly. In fact he grinned proudly looking through all of my old school books and my sketches of him. How that book got in there I will never know. But at least I know knew he appreciated my not so professional art work. The day of the hearing snuck up on us quickly after that day. As I stood in the room, I looked around for his face and found him at the back on the room near the door, and he gave me a subtle nod and smile of support. The hearing to forever, and my legs felt like jello the longer I stood. You wouldn’t be able to tell it from how schooled and stern my expression was, but inside, I was a nervous wreck and had convinced myself I’d be losing my medical career that day. But when the verdict came, it was like time stopped, I had won my case! My eyes scanned the room back to where he stood by the door, a smile on his face as he gave me a thumbs up. I wanted nothing more than to run across the room and jump into his arms from the pure joy and relief I felt from the outcome. Yet I knew it would raise suspicions. As the hall emptied, Ethan came out of the shadows and approached me, pulling me into the biggest and warmest hug of my life. This wasn’t just a hug from a mentor who was happy for me, this was a hug that you’d receive from a friend or someone who really loved you. As he pulled back and looked at me, about to congratulate me, Declan Nash, came up to us smugly. Making a smug remark that I just wasn’t in the mood for. So I guess like mentor, like mentee, I turned and slugged him round the jaw.

“Nice form.” Ethan complimented

“Thanks.” I grinned as we stepped over Declan, walking out, making our way to Donahue’s for some celebratory drinks. Over my first year Ethan and I had become pretty close, closer than a mentor and mentee should have been. When he quit and I was suspended, we thought we might have a chance at pursuing us. What we were and what we could be. But with both of us returning to work tomorrow... We knew that would be difficult as we sat sharing drinks and laughs before returning to my shared apartment to get much closer. The next day when we returned to work, he stood in the atrium next to Naveen and Harper Emery. I smiled brightly and gave him a wave which he returned with a solemn nod, to which I of course playfully rolled my eyes at. As I looked back I could have sworn he mocked me. Could this have been the start of some harmless flirting between us at work? Something that lead to a relationship? I guess we will never know how that would have went because I felt my heart shatter and sink as Naveen announced me as winner of the competition to win a place on the diagnostics team. The team Ethan was now the head of. So he’d be my... my boss. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw his face fall when Naveen made his announcement. My second year at the hospital was going to be tough, I could tell. We both could tell. During the time between me being and intern and becoming a resident, Ethan left to go to the Amazon with the W.H.O, to fight a mysterious outbreak of a virus. At first I missed him a lot and my heart ached every time I passed his office, knowing he wasn’t in there. Yet it somehow became easier each day. Until one night when I was at Donahue’s with my friends, we were just celebrating becoming residents when he strolled into the beer garden looking even more handsome than I remembered. Gone were the beige chino pants he paired with a white/blue checkered shirt and grey jumper, and in was a white Henley, green leather jacket, black jeans all paired with a pair of... Converse? I didn’t know where this sudden sense of style had come from, but I was pretty sure he was trying to make an impression on me. He stopped by our table on his way inside and looked at me.

“Rookie.” He nodded as he acknowledged me

“Too late.” I said with a grin and shake of my head. “As of 60 seconds ago I’m officially a resident.”

“Well I guess that means you won’t be making anymore mistakes then, Dr. Valentine.” He grinned

I shook my head with a smile. “It’s good to have you back Dr. Ramsey.” I replied before picking up my beer and taking a long sip as he headed inside, and I continued to converse with my friends.

So far second year had brought a lot of emotional complications my way. Sometime I wanted to cry, sometimes I wanted to laugh. Sometimes, I’d be laughing and then stop and just cry for seemingly no reason. But things changed severely after a horrible assassination attempt on the senator, who got away unharmed while 4 of the hospitals best staff got caught in the crossfire. Two of whom tragically passed away. I felt awful and rotten for what happened that day. Like it was my fault. I did after all lead myself, Rafael and Bobby in there, unprepared for what could happen and trapped nurse Danny in after I stormed the room. Now it was 3 months after their deaths, 3 months after that accident. Almost Christmas and I was excited to be spending it with Ethan. We’d managed to get our time off so it overlapped in the middle and we could be together and share some Christmas spirit together. Okay, I’d be teaching him to love Christmas, not to be such a grinch. I was 2 hours into my shift, and I was missing him. I mean, we had a secret relationship for Heaven’s sake. We were still very much in that honeymoon phase and I was missing him like a lovesick puppy as I trudged around the ward completing my rounds. When I got a spare minute I ducked into a supply closet and shot him a few texts. None to which he replied to, but I just assumed he was driving to work and left it after a few messages, heading back to work convinced I’d see him soon. Be able to hear his voice and the distinctive rich, sexy undertone I’d picked up on in our moments alone. Smell his cologne and feel his warmth as we snuck a cuddle in his private office before moving on with our day. What I wasn’t prepared for however, was the commotion I’d hear as I passed through the ER that day.

--- Narrative ---

As she walked through the ER, Casey froze upon hearing a certain commotion.

“White Male, 38, caught in a 6 car pile-up on Atlantic Avenue. Injuries are severe.....”

But everything went to a blur and all she could hear was piercing loud white noise as she turned around to see Ethan being hurried into a bay and the curtains being drawn around him. Before she could stop herself, she screamed his name and rushed into the bay.

“Ethan! Ethan say something please!”

She grabbed his hand begging him to give some kind of sign that he was okay but got nothing.

“Dr. Valentine. I’m going to need you to leave. Dr. Ramsey is in our care, and we’re doing everything we can to-”

“No! I’m not going anywhere. He’s my boss. My mentor. My... my friend.” Those last words were a whisper on her lips as she fully took in his form on the bed, battered and bruised. Grazes and large gashes everywhere. His breathing... too shallow for Casey’s liking. She was pulled from the moment as her pager beeped. She checked it then squeezed Ethan’s hand, leaning over and whispering to him.

“I’ve got to go. But don’t you dare give up. Do you hear me Ethan Ramsey? Don not give up. Keep fighting like you always have. You’re a strong man Ethan. Hang in there. For me. For us. For Christmas. I have so many great things planned for us to do. To show you how beautiful it can all be.”

Leaning in a little closer to his ear, she lowered her voice so only he could hear.

“I love you, Ethan. I always have. Please don’t leave me.”

He must have heard her, because she felt a weak squeeze on her hand as she stood up straight again. Wiping the tears from her face and straightening her coat.

“I mean it Ethan. I need my boss and mentor, I couldn’t do any of this without you. Fight. Medicine needs you. Edenbrook needs you.”

And with that she ran off to find the person who paged her as doctors and nurses got to work on stabilizing Ethan, giving him the best possible chance of survival. The day passed on slowly as Casey tried to focus on her patients and her shift at the free clinic, but she kept making stupid little mistakes because all that kept crossing her mind was him. Ethan. All alone when he got into an accident. Probably happily coming to work, going to his personal office first and paging Casey to him. It had almost become routine for them now. They go to his office when they were both at work. Share a coffee and private moments as a couple in the safety of his office before sharing a final kiss and heading off to their respective jobs. One of the cutest thing they dong was slow dance to a shared tune in their minds. Before Ethan, Casey couldn’t slow dan very well. She only knew club dances, and dances that had gone viral on multiple social media networks. Then if they could, they would meet there again for lunch. Sometime completely skipping an actual meal and eating well.. each other instead. Sometime they were still flustered from their activities behind closed doors, so would avoid each other for the rest of the day if possible.

But now he was causing her to lose focus for an entirely different reason. His life was in the balance, nobody besides themselves and Casey’s friends knew they were dating, and she’d seen his father talking to doctors from a distance outside a room. Looks of sorrow being exchanged. She emerged from the room she had just seen a patient in when a nurse flagged her down.

“Dr. Valentine? We’ve got a you-”

“No. sorry. But get someone else to do it. My boss, mentor and best friend is somewhere in this hospital, barely breathing. I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m losing focus.” She snapped before storming out of the clinic and to find Ethan. When she found him, she looked through the window. He was in the ICU, hooked to a life support machine and a tired Alan Ramsey sat in the chair beside his son. His eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Carefully, Casey knocked on the door and entered. Alan looked at her as she turned around from closing the door and shook his head.

“They’re saying he isn’t going to make it.” He said, choking on a sob. “My boy. My precious, smart, quick-witted boy. So handsome, with so much life left to live...” Alan trailed off as Casey dragged a chair next to his. She sat and took his shaking hand in hers.

“If it will make things any easier for you. He does have a girlfriend now.”

Alan turned to her a small, but sad smile on his face. “Really? He never called to say.”

“Well... It is still sort of new.”

They both looked at Ethan for a moment and could have sworn they saw him smile, but then again it could just be a trick of the eye because they want him to be okay. They want him to live, so they’ll take all the signs they can get to know he’s okay.

Days passed with Ethan on the life support machine. Every day when Casey arrived at work, she would make a b-line for the ICU, where she would sit with Ethan and drink a bottle of water as she held his hand and talked to him. Told him the thing she had planed for them to do at Christmas. Although he was unresponsive, for her, being able to see him and talk was what got her through her days at work. At night she wouldn’t leave his side and eventually, from a decision of her own, everyone in the hospital knew of their relationship status. Ethan was going to hate her when he woke up. She chuckled as she imagined the berating he would give her for telling everyone something so personal to the both of them without his permission. Until one day, she got home and had just finished drawing a bath when her phone rang with Sienna’s contact popping up on the screen. She answered almost immediately with confusion in her tone.

“Sienna?”

“Casey... It- It’s Ethan.... He’s taken a turn for the worse. It looks like he might pass away. Tonight.”

#choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry studios #open heart #pixelberry open heart #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #dr casey valentine #ethan x casey #open heart fanfictions #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfiction

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tearsofthemis · 4 years

Text

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 6

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

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▌ Location- Break room

(By the time Zuo Ran ended his phone call, the break room was empty. He picked up the intermediate lawyer examination prep guide that was left on the coffee table, and flipped through the notes that she took in the pages.)

Zuo Ran: “To find a partner, huh…”

(Zuo Ran put down the book, and sent out a voice memo.)

Zuo Ran: “Zhai Xing, in regards to your suggestion that I find a partner to reduce my workload. Do you have any recommendations?”

(His message was read, and replied to instantly.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “Depends on what kind of person you’re looking for. If there’s no one in Themis that catches your eye, I can hire someone.”

(Zuo Ran paused to think about his reply.)

Zuo Ran: “I don’t have high demands, as long as they’re upright, persevering, and won't succumb to authority. In regards to qualifications they should be comparable to me- no, forget that, as long as they’re qualified, there’s no need for them to be like me in terms of ability or temperament. What I need is a mirror, not an imitator.” (Zuo Ran rarely sends texts, let alone so many at once. There was no response from Zhai Xing.)

Zuo Ran: “I guess she can’t think of anyone suitable…” (Zhai Xing’s reply came at last, as Zuo Ran prepared to head back to his office.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “You call this, ‘not demanding’?! Wake up, Zuo Ran! Those qualified to be your mirror are far and few!” (After hearing Zhai Xing’s outburst, Zuo Ran sighed. He drew his attention back to the spread of exam books on the coffee table, and brushed his finger over the cover.)

Zuo Ran: “Far and few… you say…”

~~~

▌ Location- Commerce Avenue

(On our way to QingPing restaurant, XinRan and I coincidentally met up with Xia Yan, a good friend of mine that I lost contact with eight years ago.)

MC: “XinRan said she hired a detective, it must be you!”

(A bio-engineering honors student from Capital University, abandoned his career path as a scientist, only to return as a budding detective?!)

Xia Yan: “Of course. I don’t understand why you’re so shocked, doing detective work is my lifelong passion. I’m finally able to fulfill my dreams!”

MC: “That, is unexpected to say the least…”

Xia Yan: “Then the lawyer that Miss. Xue was looking for, that must be you. It looks like you also fulfilled your goal of attending Stellis University’s law school.” (I was still reeling from the information overload, and I couldn’t pay attention to what Xia Yan was saying.)

Xue XinYan: “That’s right, it’s her. I didn’t know you guys knew each other.” (XinRan looked at us, but chose not to press any further.)

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang lives on the second floor of the restaurant. He should be at home, let me call him down.” (XinRan went up and knocked on the door. I quickly composed myself, pulling my mind away from dwelling on our fateful encounter, but Xia Yan kept smiling, his eyes focused on me all the while.)

MC: “Why… do you keep looking at me?”

Xia Yan: “Even after so many years apart, you haven’t changed.”

MC: “That’s impossible, it’s been eight years, change is bound to happen. I mean, I’ve definitely grown taller.” Xia Yan: “But not in my eyes, you’ll always be my… Just like back when I was sixteen, exactly the same.” MC: “Must you speak so vaguely? Like you? Are you labeling me as a tomboy?”

Xia Yan: “No no...”

MC: “I was kidding, relax.”

(The restaurant door was opened by a man with snowy white hair. This must be Fang Yuan.)

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, I’ve already told you not to bother with the case. The health inspection team has already reached their verdict, there’s no point in investigating further.”

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, even if we must pay the settlement, we shouldn’t let those customers demand unrealistic charges. Look, I’ve found these two people that can help us.”

MC: “Hello, Mr. Fang. My name is-”

(I hesitated to finish my self introduction after I took in Fang Yuan’s exhausted state.)

MC: (Mr. Fang doesn’t look alright…)

~~~Investigation start!~~~

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s mouth]

AI:

“Ah, there, we can see his face clearer. But… Why are Grandpa Fang’s lips purple? According to the big data center, purple discoloration on the lips can be attributed to cardiovascular disease.”

[Select, “heart issues”]

MC: (Cyanosis present on the lip, should be a sign of his ailing heart condition.)

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s eyes]

MC: “He’s got pretty nasty dark circles. I bet he’s lost sleep over the incident in his restaurant.”

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s hand, select “bruising from IV”]

MC: (Did the countless IV drips leave behind such a deep bruise? A cardiac condition at Grandpa Fang’s age is serious and his health must have taken a big toll. I need to watch what I say when we interrogate him, it would be bad if we caused him emotional shock. It’s as XinRan said, Grandpa Fang is quite frail, and he looks tired. Considering the fact that he detests lawyers, I should hide my identity for now.)

AI: “It looks like you have come to your own conclusion, let’s finish this investigation.”

~~~Investigation end!~~~

MC: “I am PI Xia’s assistant, and this, is Mr. Xia Yan.” (Xia Yan did not react to my cover-up. Thankfully, he didn’t question it, either.)

Xia Yan: “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fang, my name is Xia Yan. My mother and father left this world when I was young, and if it weren’t for kindhearted people like yourself, there was no way I would’ve been able to attend university either. Ah, Miss Xue has informed me of your situation, and I admire what you have done out of the goodness of your heart. We’re here today because we would truly like to help. I sincerely ask for your permission to investigate your case, would that be alright?” (Perhaps it was Xia Yan’s convincing words, or his infectious and honest smile, that made Fang Yuan cave to his demand.)

Fang Yuan: “Let’s talk inside.” (As Mr.Fang let us inside, I purposely lagged behind so I could walk behind the group as any dutiful assistant would. Xia Yan leaned down and whispered by my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine as I blushed.)

Xia Yan: “You sure got into character quickly.”

MC: “I’m only pulling from the childhood experience of pretending to be your assistant when we played detective. It feels like muscle memory by now. But aren’t you curious as to why I chose to hide my identity?” Xia Yan: “Of course I am. But you have my trust, and that’s not something a little bit of time between us will change, right? I trust you.”

~~~

▌ Location- QingPing Restaurant

Xia Yan: “Mr, Fang, can you confirm that you were the one that accidentally mixed the powdered pesticide into the spring water?”

(Once we were seated in the restaurant, Xia Yan began questioning Mr. Fang. The questions that he asked were the exact same as the ones we asked XinRan back at the law firm.)

[Flashback]

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang said that he was the one who sprinkled the pesticide powder, and his poor eyesight is to blame for mistaking the water source. He wasn’t paying attention…”

Zuo Ran: “He claims he wasn’t paying attention, but afterward is so sure that it was caused by his misoperation. That’s a logical fallacy...”

[Flashback ends]

Fang Yuan: “It was me. Sigh, I’m getting old, and can't see or move around like I used to. I wasn’t careful…”

Xia Yan: “On the day of the incident, when was the spring water delivered to the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “The spring water is sourced from YunXia Mountain, and is usually delivered everyday around 6 AM.” Xia Yan: “After the water delivery, was there always someone present in the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “No, the restaurant was empty from 6 AM to 8 AM. The helper and I went out to purchase produce for today’s service. The waiter, Xiao Zhao, arrived at 9 AM…” (Fang Yuan’s sentence was cut short by a coughing fit, turning his face bright red with effort as he hacked.)

XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, are you alright?”

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, help me upstairs. My chest hurts, and I would like to rest…”

MC: “Mr. Fang, is it serious? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Fang Yuan: “No, that won’t be necessary. It’s an old condition, and I’ll be alright once I lie down and rest. The restaurant encompasses the entire first floor, feel free to check what you need. I use that computer there for bookkeeping, there’s no password on it. If you need to use it, be my guest. Although, it’s been two weeks since the incident. The restaurant is cleaned daily, and any leftover food or ingredients have been thrown away. I don’t know if investigating will help, I’m afraid.”

(We watched XinRan help Fang Yuan up the stairs. The moment they were out of earshot, I turned and whispered to Xia Yan.)

MC: “Mr. Fang’s attitude back there was a little strange. Hopefully we can find clues that they missed. The sooner we can crack the case, the better. But he’s been pessimistic from the start, emphasizing that the restaurant isn’t worth looking into. The way he answered your question was barely satisfactory.

Xia Yan: “The way I see it, he isn’t fully willing to cooperate with us, the reason why we weren’t denied earlier is because he didn’t want to seem suspicious. On the other hand, food poisoning caused by ingestion of pesticide itself is suspicious as well. Since the majority of pesticides available on the market are harmless to humans, why would Mr. Fang purchase anything dangerous for use in a restaurant?” MC: “We don’t have an answer for that either…”

-------

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

-------

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #tears of themis trans #otome #otome game #zuo ran #xia yan #夏彦 #左然 #未定事件簿

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mikeyhatesit113 · 3 years

Text

forever and never: Chapter 10

My car pulls up to the daycare entrance and Janie comes outside, the overnight bag slung loosely from her shoulder. Her face is blank, but her demeanor is defeated. She walks to my car and she gets in, shutting the door behind her. It’s just us two and a pregnant silence now.

A million questions swim through my mind.

Not to be outdone, she has a million excuses prepared.

“He drove you to work this morning?” I start by asking.

“Yeah,” she says quietly.

After the barrage of text messages from her and Bill, I am still unclear about what the truth is.

He said they met multiple times.

She said once.

He said they kissed several times.

She claimed once.

But whether it was a thousand times, or just once, I had a single question. This question did just pertain to the past 24 hour’s events, but it covered all the happenings over the past two years.

The hotel stays without receipts or bank records. The men who were just friends. The phone calls and text messages dripping with secrecy. The names under other names.

The nights where I watched her walk away.

“At any point throughout any of this, did you ever consider what you were doing to your sons’ home?” I asked.

My voice was not loud. My tone was not vicious.

It was a simple question that any mother should have been asking themselves. An anguished look comes across her face and she leans forward, putting her face in her hands.

Her muffled sobs fill the car and the atmosphere is devastating for both of us.

She had been caught, and another secret love story had been reduced to smoldering ash.

And for the third time in 2 years, I once again had been deceived.

Only this time, I had more answers than questions. I knew she was actually guilty.

Her lips had actually touched another man’s.

Proof beyond a reasonable doubt.

With this verdict, what would the jury decide?

They were lenient.

My heart wrenched at the thought of leaving her and the boys. After all we had been through, and all I believed we had overcome, I just couldn’t bring myself to throw in the towels.

I had watched those two little boys grow into walking, talking mini-adults.

James was no longer a curious Pre-K little boy. He was now 10, and he was funny. He had friends, and we had a great relationship. He loved Michael Myers just like I did, and he mimicked my wacky antics around the house. He was as close as a son could be.

Brock was no longer a tot in diapers. He was an animated kid who had started school now, and he loved to wrestle in the living room with his brother and I.

After 4 and a half years of being responsible for them, I was supposed to walk away without a second thought?

What if we could overcome this? One more thing to look back on as an old couple, decades later on that typical front porch swing moment. Saying with a smile as we are looking into eachother’s eyes, “We made it.”

“We got through it.”

“We proved our love was stronger than anything.”

“For better or for worse.”

Despite everything I knew, and how dirty I felt, I had decided to stay. I couldn’t pronounce it dead yet, despite what the vitals were telling me.

And as we moved on just days after the Bill scandal broke, I remained disturbed by a single, abstract thought.

I had trusted Bill, and he was a great friend.

He was my groomsman who saw us at our worst and our best.

But the fact that I was blindsided by his betrayal wasn’t because of those things, necessarily.

It was due to something else.

Like, the fact that, Bill wasn’t the one I had my eye on.

I was eyeing another person entirely, and we had already crossed paths.

Let me introduce you to, Steppenwolf.

“Mr. Steppenwolf is so funny,” Janie laughed in the kitchen as she was preparing dinner one day. We were telling eachother about our respective days, and she was telling me about how Mr. Steppenwolf, a fellow daycare teacher, had outsmarted an angry parent that day.

In fact, Mr. Steppenwolf was the director of the program at Janie’s center.

Sound familiar?

“And he has the craziest hats,” she giggled.

“Oh,” I responded. A balding man with gray hair in his 30’s with a wacky hat collection seemed interesting enough, but it quickly left my mind.

He was married with kids, anyway.

But then, Mr. Steppenwolf popped up on my radar again just days later.

I was scrolling through Instagram, and I noticed that Steppenwolf had been “liking” and commenting on almost every one of Janie’s pictures.

Despite the arena I was in, I wasn’t a terribly jealous guy. But for curiosity’s sake, I went to Steppenwolf’s profile and discovered that Janie was doing the exact same thing to his photos.

For instance, his picture of a stink bug had earned a “like” from Janie, and a bonus comment that said, “OMG Mr. Steppewolf, what a creepy bug!”

In addition, I noticed that their social networking relationship was barely a month old, and the commenting/liking had picked up in frequency.

But nevertheless, I wasn’t a jealous guy. However, I did casually tease Janie about the interactions with Mr. Steppenwolf on Instagram. She played it off and changed the subject.

Coincidentally, Mr. Steppenwolf’s profile went PRIVATE a day later.

But perhaps, Steppenwolf was deemed a true threat until one beautiful Summer day.

It was a sunny, July day, and I was going to a Fantasy Football draft at a friend’s house.

Janie, usually opposing my attendance to such events, was surprisingly supportive and cool with my plans to go. In fact, she whipped me up a batch of Buffalo Chicken Dip to take along as a party contribution.

“And I know when you guys get together, you like to stay out late. Just so you know, I won’t be mad if it goes to 2am or something. You deserve to have a good time with your friends,” she spoke.

“Are you sure you’re ok with me going?” I asked as I put tin foil over the top of the chicken dip pan.

“Yeah,” she insisted brightly. “I’ll just hang out around here, or maybe go see my parents at the campground,” she said.

“Cool,” I said, grabbing my keys. I was running a bit behind on time, and I had to get on the road. I had planned to leave 10 minutes earlier, and now I was probably going to be late.

Just then, Janie’s phone on the counter lit up.

Out of habit, I looked at the screen and saw a text.

From Steppenwolf.

“Hey bud, wasn’t sure if we were still on the for the movie? If not, just let me know, and I’ll kick back and hang around the house.”

I read the message, my jaw clenching and my mind beginning to race.

Movie? With Steppenwolf??

What the fuck?

Janie looked at the screen, and immediately after reading the message, she got frantically defensive.

“He’s texting the wrong Janie!” she insisted, her eyes quickly welling with tears. “He must have meant the other Janie in the other program,” she explained.

She picked up her phone and dialed Steppenwolf immediately. He answered, and once again, what she said next would determine everything.

“Hey Mr. Steppenwolf,” she greeted him. “I have a very upset husband standing next to me, and he thinks your message was actually meant for me,” she fake chuckled.

I’m not certain what he said, but Janie’s reaction did its best to make me believe that this was indeed just a big misunderstanding.

“That’s what I said!” she said on the phone, laughing.

She offered me the phone. “Did you want to talk to him?” she asked.

“No,” I said, scowling.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but it didn’t look good. As I waited for her to end the call, I knew that I no longer wanted to go to the Fantasy Football draft.

I wanted to dump the buffalo chicken dip in the trash.

How could I go have a good time with these new suspicions?

In terms of timeline, the Bill scandal had not yet happened. That wouldn’t be happening for another two weeks yet.

So in truth, these were my first suspicions since a year earlier when she ran off into the night with Shawn.

But I thought we had moved past that? I thought I’d never feel that way again?

Janie hung up the phone and insisted that his message was meant from someone else. I did my best to believe her, but I was uneasy.

What if it wasn’t a mistake?

I reluctantly left the house and went to the Fantasy Football party, sitting amongst my friends and doing my best to act normal.

Janie, almost as if she knew that I was on alert, texted me frequently.

A few hours later, I left the Fantasy Football party and went to the campground her parents were at. Janie had went to visit them, and she invited me to swing by.

We sat around the fire, talking casually. Janie and I did our best to ignore the serpent between us that had just been resurrected, threatening to strike.

As the days that followed went on, I noticed other little changes in Janie.

She suddenly took a big interest into the sporty attire that the younger girls at her center wore. She suddenly bought several pairs of running shorts, and her behavior at home transformed into more of their demeanor as well.

She’d post pictures online of herself posing flirtatiously with them. Of course, these photos had a thumbs up from Mr. Steppenwolf, who was often lingering in the background and making goofy faces.

Then, she started staying out later at night. She’d cite after-work meetings at a nearby sports bar, but some nights, she wouldn’t come home till after midnight. I’d stay up and wait for her, knowing I’d have to be awake for work in less than 5 hours, but I couldn’t sleep.

I had to know she was safe, and I had to torture myself with secret suspicions.

I’d watch the Lancer pull into the driveway as relief washed over me. I’d run upstairs and crawl into bed quickly so that she wouldn’t know I had stayed up to wait. She’d come upstairs and get ready for bed quickly, and as she’d get under the covers, I’d smell the beer on her breath.

She’d fall out pretty quickly, but I often laid there in the dark as I stared at the ceiling, wondering where her night had taken her.

The weird occurrences continued one day when I saw a mixed CD in her car. It was titled “Daddy Mix”, and it contained nothing but songs with the word “Daddy” in their titles.

“Daddy Sang Bass”, by Johnny Cash.

“Hey Daddy (Daddy’s Home)”, by Usher.

“Daddy’s Eyes”, by The Killers.

“What’s this?” I asked, holding up the CD.

“Oh, that,” she laughed. “So, I call Mr. Steppenwolf ‘daddy’ at work, and everyone thinks that it’s funny,” she explained. “So they all got together and put this CD together for me, and slid it in my mailbox,” she said.

The explanation seemed off to me. I’ve found many things my co-workers have done to be hilarious, but creating a mixed CD for them as a result honestly never crossed my mind.

It was such a small occurrence that I quickly forgot about it.

Either that, or I was actively overlooking things as to not find a reason to worry about them.

All I wanted was peace as a husband. I never believed that I had accidentally signed up to be a 24/7 private investigator.

Then one night, I came face to face with Steppenwolf.

It was a night where another after-work meeting was taking place, and she invited me. I sat there amongst her co-workers, and I found myself having a pleasant time as I met people and their spouses for the first time.

Then, Steppenwolf showed up.

I noticed quickly how he presented himself. Though he was a smaller man, he carried himself with an upmost self-importance.

I watched him get out of his purple sports car, and as he walked up, I saw him tug at the bottom of the tight lime-green polo he had decided to wear.

He walked into the outdoor patio area we were all seated at, and his co-workers welcomed him as he took a seat at the far end of the two tables we had pushed together to accommodate our party size.

Steppenwolf did not look at me.

Janie was seated beside me, deep in conversation with a fellow co-worker. I decided to drink some beers, and soon I found myself lost in casual conversations of my own with other people.

It was then I noticed, Steppenwolf and Janie were gone. I looked around quickly, but I could not spot them. I got up from the table and walked inside the crowded bar. After some quick recon, I located my targets.

They were deep in a hushed conversation back by the bathrooms, which were hidden from plain view. I walked up to them and as I stood beside Janie, I crossed my arms and faced Steppenwolf.

Their conversation abruptly stopped, and Steppenwolf shot me a sideways glance as he leaned on the wall. He walked away without another word, and I asked Janie about what I had seemingly interrupted.

“He’s just having an issue with another co-worker, and he was talking to me about it,” she said.

Soon after that night, the Bill events happened.

It was August now, and as Summer was winding down, Janie and I found ourselves in a shattered state.

But were we beyond repair?

The night before Labor Day Sunday, Janie and I decided to go to Hersheypark. It had always been a nice spot for us and the boys, but on this night, it was just us two.

Night had fallen, and the park was clearing out. There weren’t too many people left, and as we walked side by side, I noticed the continued silence between us.

“You ok?” I asked.

“Yeah, I just want to know that you’re ok,” she replied.

“I am if you are.”

The sunset that night, and the emptiness around us, was too eerie for me to ignore. It was symbolic of our love story.

----

The next day, we had a Labor Day cookout planned at our home. Close to the start time, Janie and I walked over to her mom’s house to get some bug spray.

My sister had requested some, and Janie found this as a reason to angrily march off across the street to accomodate my family.

“What is your problem?” I asked her as I followed behind her.

“Nothing, Michael, nothing,” she said.

We both returned to our house and our guests arrived. The cookout got started, and things started off normally enough.

Janie guzzled down alcoholic beverages, and she kept asking her step-dad to admit that she was his princess.

I played corn hole with some of the other guests, but predictably, things took a turn for the worst as night fell.

My father had taken my nephews to a local carnival that night, and he dropped them off at our house because my sister was attending our cookout. However, my father wanted to make a quick job of dropping them off, as his dog had been at home for hours without a bathroom break.

I stood out front with my sister as we casually chatted with our father, and then he got back in his car and drove off.

Janie, however, took great offense to this gesture. He had not come back to the party in the back yard to say hello, and she decided that she had an issue with this.

I picked up on this when I returned to the back yard, and Janie stood amongst the party guests glaring at me.

When I watched her walk in the house, I seized my opportunity to follow her inside and find out what was wrong.

“Hey,” I said as I slid the door closed behind me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is ever good enough, is it?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Your dad, after all these years, still hates me,” she said. “What the fuck are we even doing?” she asked savagely.

Kelly came inside at that moment, and she saw our confrontation.

“Guys, don’t fight,” she said.

“I’m not fighting!” I said, my temper soaring. “She’s picking another fight with me!”

At those words, Janie scoffed and ran upstairs. When she came back down, she had another overnight bag slung from her shoulder.

The second one I had seen in a month. The third one I had seen in a year.

“And where are you going?” I asked.

“Janie, don’t leave,” Kelly begged.

Janie only wanted to talk to Kelly, but I barreled on, demanding to know where Janie was leaving to go this time.

Janie asked where the Lancer keys were, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You aren’t taking the Lancer,” I said. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re not totaling my car.”

Janie didn’t scream back, though.

As our guests continued enjoying themselves in our back yard, Janie quietly left out the front door. I watched her from the door step as she disappeared into the night, one more time.

There was nothing for it. She was looking for a reason all along.

And I was tired of stopping her.

I was tired of trying.

But seeing her walk away never got easier.

I returned to the back yard, and though some people were aware what had happened, others didn't mind. Janie’s step-dad chatted merrily with our landlord, taking swigs of beer. I wasn’t about to spoil their time.

I walked up to my grandmother and uncle, and I quietly let them know what had happened. I walked them to their car, feeling bad at the failure I had become.

“Well,” my grandmother said. “You’ll have this. And remember what I said, you have a home with me.”

I thanked her and my uncle for coming, and after they drove away, I never felt more alone. Most of the guests had departed, but a few stayed. I walked around my empty home, wondering what to do. I decided to go to bed.

Of course, i didn't sleep at all.

Our Boston Terrier curled up next to me in bed as I listened to Linkin Park’s “Burn It Down” on my iPod.

The cycle repeated As explosions broke in the sky All that I needed Was the one thing I couldn’t find...

I got up several times that night, looking out the window and hoping to see her return. Instead, I remember seeing our landlord and a few of Janie’s family members sitting around our bonfire, still burning brightly.

After a brief stints of sleep and constant exhaustion, morning came.

The sky was full of clouds, and the air was humid and muggy. I walked around our house, seeing the mess in the back yard and the piles of dishes on the kitchen counter.

I was all alone.

I started cleaning up, trying to take my mind off of the situation at hand.

Had Bill re-entered the arena? Or was she with someone else?

I told myself I wouldn’t call, but we were past that point. Enough was enough. I picked up my phone and dialed her number, and it went right to voicemail. I said the only thing I could say;

“I’m not calling to find out where you are or who you’re with. I’m only asking you, out of respect for our time together and the home of those two little boys, to tell me what’s going on?”

I hung up and continued cleaning up the mess.

After a half hour, I called again.

“You don’t understand how serious this is, I need you to tell me what’s going on. Nothing else. Just tell me where things stand,” I spoke.

I hung up my phone.

Then, she called back.

I walked out into the back yard as I answered her call.

“Hey,” I said.

“I’m done,” she said softly. “We fight all the time. Things haven’t been right. We’re toxic,” she spoke. “I’m done.”

“Are you with Steppenwolf?” I asked.

“...yeah, but I slept on his couch,” she said.

Our conversation didn’t last long. What was there left to say?

I packed a few things in a hurry.

I was going home.

As I loaded some things into my car, I saw Janie’s mom sitting on her back porch. I shut my car door after putting my things inside the car and walked across the street.

“Hey,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Ekim,” her mom said. “I don’t know why she’s doing this. I didn’t raise her that way,” Janie’s mom spoke. “I can’t go against her, she’s all I have. She’s my baby,” her mom pleaded.

“I know. She’s with Steppenwolf,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, I heard. I don’t know why she’s doing this.”

---

Walking through my grandmother’s front door was less than ceremonious, but there are places throughout you’re life where you feel safe.

This was one of them.

My uncle had since moved in with her since I had moved out 5 years earlier, and he had my old room. But I didn’t care. I was eager to have any place to call home, and in turn, I moved whatever I had with me into a smaller upstairs bedroom.

It was my room when I was 14 years old before I moved to a bigger room. Since I had moved out of it, it had become a storage room for miscellaneous items and holiday decorations.

The bed mattress was gone, but the box spring was still there. I draped a few blankets on the top until I figured something else out in terms of a bed.

It would have to do for now, like everything else.

That day, I didn’t plan on staying idle and letting my imagination tear me to pieces.

There would be no sleep, no rest, and no peace.

So I might as well stay busy.

I decided to accompany some friends to a back yard cookout, and I needed to take several breaks away from the party to vent to my buddy’s girlfriend.

I was inconsolable. I couldn’t think of anything else.

Luckily, she was understanding and listened patiently while I spilled my guts several times that day.

My life was in pieces, and my marriage was over.

That night, they invited me back to their place to hang out.

I sat beside my one friend on their love seat as they watched the newest episode of the show, Breaking Bad.

I sat next to him and odd as it sounds, just not being alone made my eyes heavy.

36 hours of no sleep was catching up to me.

My head slumped over as I fell asleep, but I couldn’t fall into too deep of a sleep state.

Night was falling outside, and my vicious imagination was going to punish me for not giving it a chance to torture me all day.

I sat there, my head slumped on my buddy’s shoulder as I heard a song coming from the TV. It’s a song called “Crystal Blue Persuasion”, and it was playing on the episode of Breaking Bad. My imagination played a perverse slideshow for me as the melody filled my ears.

I missed her. I just wanted to be next to her.

And he had her.

The music from the TV played as the images in my head haunted me, my stomach turning...

“Look over yonder, what do you see?”

They start kissing in Steppenwolf’s living room, knowing they have the entire night together...

“The sun is a-risen, most definitely.”

They wander through Steppenwolf’s house toward his bedroom...

“A new day is coming, people are changing,”

They reach his bedroom and lay on his bed...

“Ain’t it beautiful? Crystal blue persuasion.”

The light goes out.

But for me, it was far from over.

Broken, but not beyond repair.

We weren’t finished yet.

“My secrets are buried now From my heart and my bones catch a fever When it cuts you up this deep It's hard to find a way to breathe

Your eyes are swallowing me Mirrors start to whisper Shadows start to see My skin's smothering me Help me find a way to breathe.”

Bring Me the Horizon “Sleepwalking”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

#dating #relationships #depression #breakups #relationship advice #divorce #marriage #mental health #suicide #begin again #new beginnings #taylor swift #never #forever #love #hate #papa roach

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iturbide · 4 years

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@cianidix replied to your post:

The more you talk about this, the more I want to read it! Edgeworth-centric and also more Edgeworth-Maya interactions, ahhhhh. I’m also sooo interested in reading about how the relationship falls apart and how they (hopefully, maybe, I don’t believe Feenie is actually dead here… right??? Q_Q) eventually make better or move on and just- ahhhh I wish this fic was here already (if you get back to it)

(Trucy still exists, right? Even tho Wright wasn’t disbarred, right???)

Of course Trucy still exists I could never write her out of existence she’s too precious of a child to not be around in some way shape or form (and there’s nothing to say that Nick won’t end up with her at some point in the future, anyway -- he could always use another kid or two, and I think we all know it). Interestingly enough, though, one of my other big works was an AA4-compliant piece, also Edgeworth-centric, that involved a lot of Edgeworth-Trucy interactions because Trucy’s a part of Phoenix’s life now, and if he wants to have any part in it himself Edgeworth has to get along with the adopted daughter. It actually had a decent chunk of words in it, too (around 12k -- it’s the second excerpt from the link in the last post).

But in all honesty people getting excited about my stories gets me excited about those stories and since I still don’t know when I’m going to get around to writing the whole thing out, what’s the harm in dropping the summary?

Gonna give this another shot and Tumblr’s not gonna eat it this time mark my words

A couple notes before we get into things:

OCs are fair game in Ace Attorney as far as I’m concerned, and we’re certainly going to have a host of them. From the prosecutor on the case to all of those involved, I’ll be making a whole cast and crew to back this story up, and if I can manage it there will be absolutely terrible puns, because that just seems to be how AA games operate.

Lana Skye is hands down one of my absolute favorite characters in the series, and it’s a crime that they only put her into one bonus case and put her in prison at the end of it. For all of my continuities, I completely write out SL-9 as a case: Joe Darke never escaped his cell, Lana got into the prosecutor’s office and became chief by virtue of her own talents, and both the prosecutor’s office and the police department have cowboys running around.

I have a fairly non-standard view of Phoenix as a person, just based on everything I remember seeing in fandom back when I was more active. For instance: I love the fact that he was an art student, but I’ve always specifically thought he was aiming to be an actor and had a thing for Shakespeare; frankly, the ad libbing that has to go into acting when something goes wrong explains so much for me where Nick’s bluffing is concerned (when a man interrogates a parrot, you know he has a weird history). Unrelated but still relevant to that point, I think he’s actually a decent pianist and took lessons through most of his childhood and adolescence -- but he’s a classical pianist by training and not great at playing by ear, so people just think he sucks because he botches any modern tunes. So if you see something that seems Weird compared to fandom’s general take, just know that it probably has backstory.

So with all that in mind, let’s dive in.

In true Ace Attorney fashion, the whole thing starts with a cold open. As he finishes up the last of the paperwork associated with the case he wrapped up that afternoon, Phoenix gets a call from a familiar number, and though he dreads the conversation to come he answers anyway, refusing an offer to meet and saying that he can’t do this anymore before someone enters the inner office. He insists that they’re closed as he turns toward the door, and a voice replies that this won’t take long -- and then there’s gunshots. And then nothing.

The next morning, Maya is understandably shocked and horrified to arrive at the office and find that it’s once again a crime scene: bullet holes in the windows, blood on the floor, police everywhere...but no sign of Nick. Gumshoe is on the scene, though, and after a lot of badgering, he reveals that there’s been no sign of Phoenix, but the police are operating under the assumption that he’s dead -- and they’ve already arrested a suspect. Maya can’t imagine who would want to hurt Phoenix, and hearing that it’s Miles Edgeworth they’ve imprisoned just makes the whole thing feel that much more surreal. Sure, Nick and Edgeworth have had their disagreements --- including one the day before, in the recesses of their trial, and Phoenix had seemed really upset after that -- but she didn’t think it was something worth killing over.

But she’s still hurt, and reeling from the morning’s news. So her first order of business is to march down to the Detention Center to confront him. Edgeworth is...not surprised to see her, given the circumstances -- but when she demands to know why he did it, he insists that he’s innocent: he would never harm Wright, no matter the circumstances. As much as Maya wants to believe that, though, the fact that he doesn’t seem upset by Nick’s supposed death so much as the accusation that he had a hand in it rubs her wrong, and despite herself she can’t help but wonder if he did have some role in it; regardless, she still goes everywhere she can think of in hopes that there was a mistake, that Nick is okay after all, collecting evidence with every stop...but as it gets later, when there’s still no sign of him, she and Pearl return to the Detention Center.

With no defense counsel, Edgeworth is almost guaranteed to go to prison...but at Pearl’s urging, Maya steps up and offers to defend him, since she recently passed the bar and got her badge. She spends the rest of the evening doing her best to cobble together a case based on what little information she has, and reports to the courthouse the next morning for her very first trial as a defense attorney.

Her first case, and Nick isn’t even there to see it. She didn’t think it could hurt any worse.

Before they’re called into the courtroom, the defense gets a surprise visitor: chief prosecutor Lana Skye, come to deliver case notes and evidence files. Maya barely gets time enough to leaf through them before they’re called into the courtroom to start the trial, where she finds herself facing the rising star from the prosecutor’s office: Gayle Huntington, a young woman who counts Chief Prosecutor Skye as her inspiration and who is excited to add another guilty verdict to her record, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the fact that one of her fellow prosecutors stands accused.

The prosecution declares it a crime of passion, and presents their theory of the case: following a heated confrontation outside the courtroom, Miles Edgeworth called Phoenix Wright to arrange a meeting. While he may have intended only to put an end to the argument, tempers flared, and in a fit of rage the defendant shot the victim three times before dragging the body down to the street and driving it off to be disposed of at another location. Their evidence includes the blood found at the scene, which matches Phoenix based on forensic testing; three bullet holes in the office window, though no slugs or casings were found at or around the office despite an extensive search with metal detectors; Edgeworth’s phone, which shows that the last call before he contacted 911 was made to Wright’s number; and a handgun found at the scene which shows evidence of recent firing, though no magazine was found in it.

Over the first day of testimony, Maya manages to shred the prosecution’s case based on that chain of events:

The gun, as it happens, belonged to Phoenix himself. One of the documents the chief prosecutor provided to the defense was a photocopy of a sign-in sheet for a local gun range, which not only has Nick’s signature on it, but included a copy of his firearm registration and permit, which was for the exact make, model, and serial number as the purported murder weapon. Lana Skye herself is called to the stand, as her name also appears on the sign-in, and she testifies that after court the previous day she happened across Wright at the range and they talked a bit; he said that he needed to blow off a bit of steam before going back to his paperwork, and she clearly recalls that he did not clean his weapon before leaving, instead saying that he would do so after he went home since his cleaning kit was there. On closer examination, it's discovered that while the weapon has mostly been wiped clean, the trigger was not, and a partial print matching Phoenix is recovered.

On calling Edgeworth himself to the stand, he admits that he did contact Phoenix late in the evening in the hopes of resolving the argument from that afternoon; however, he was across townpicking up his car from the repair shop when he made that call, and when he heard what sounded like a shot before the call cut out he immediately drove to the office where he found the blood trail leading to the curb. Cell tower records do, in fact, confirm that he was far from the defense attorney’s office when the call was made, and based on the time of his calls to both Phoenix and 911, there was far too narrow of a window to dispose of the body.

The next revelation comes with the filing of a new piece of evidence, courtesy of a frantic Gumshoe bursting into court and taking the stand. The police, in their search of likely dumping grounds for a body, dredged something out of the river that seems to confirm that they have a murder on their hands: a blue suit coat with three apparent bullet holes in the back...and Phoenix’s badge still affixed to the lapel. What little blood evidence they were able to collect matches Phoenix, as well.

For all that this is a stunning (and devastating) revelation, it brings with it yet more to undermine the prosecution’s case: namely the bullet evidence. When placed on a mannequin, even coupled with the knowledge that Phoenix left his suit jacket unbuttoned while working in the office, the placement of the bullet holes in the back would require that there be associated entry points in the front -- which do not exist. Maya draws the logical conclusion, then, that the shots must have been fired from outside the office -- through the window, and the reason no slugs or casings were found was because the shots weren’t fired from inside the office, and the bullets were still in the victim.

Despite the upset in court, the prosecution refuses to budge, and the Judge refuses to declare a Not Guilty verdict. Court adjourns for the day instead, and Maya heads out to continue her investigation. Making her way to the Gatewater Hotel, she manages to get information on who was staying in the room across from the office: four members of a jazz band in town for a show, who insist that they’re the only ones who have been in the room and that they were setting up for a performance on the night of the crime. Though she doesn’t know them herself, she hears vague rumors that they have a fifth member who’s been in some ‘legal trouble.’ When Maya relates the name to Edgeworth, he remarks that it seems somehow familiar, though he can’t quite place why. She also gets the prosecutor’s repair records and goes to check out the rental company he used while his car was in the shop, which nets her a copy of the damage and condition checklist the agent filled out when Edgeworth brought the car back.

While Maya has the case to occupy her mind, Miles has no such means of escaping his own thoughts in his prison cell. Between the confirmation that the jacket does, in fact, belong to Phoenix (something he had tried to deny at first, hoping that the coat was a look-alike and the badge stolen, only to have that possibility dashed by the presence of Wright’s initials on the underside of the tag) and the relative isolation in the detention center, he’s had ample time to think over how things had been with Phoenix -- including how he, himself, had been with the defense attorney...and he’s forced to face some very hard truths about his behavior toward someone he cares about far more than he wanted to believe.

With the start of the second day in court, the prosecution has changed its theory of the crime, but not its perpetrator: rather than committing the crime alone, Edgeworth had an accomplice, and his call to Wright was a ploy to get him into firing range while the shooter waited in the hotel for his chance. Leaving his rental car in front of the defense attorney’s office, he picked up his usual vehicle and upon arriving at the crime scene helped his accomplice load the body into the getaway car for disposal while he made a call to police. Their evidence comes from photos of the rental vehicle in question, which show damage not reported on the return checklist, as well as blood evidence taken from the trunk which matches Phoenix.

Once again, Maya tears through the prosecution’s case piece by piece:

The damage in the evidence photos compared to the rental return form make for the first order of business. On calling the man who signed off on Edgeworth’s car to the stand -- an amiable but nervous young Latine by the name of Novi Nada -- they swear up and down that the damage in the photos absolutely was not present when they checked the car in on the night of the crime. (In true Ace Attorney form, this gets somewhat ridiculous, as this witness lapses into Spanish when especially nervous; when pressed, they insist “no vi nada” -- I didn’t see anything -- to which the Judge responds “yes we know your name now what did you see?”)

Sensor data from the rental lot finally confirms the agent’s version of events, where the car is registered as driving onto the lot shortly before the time marked on the inspection form; more importantly, it also recorded the car being driven off the lot and then back on much later. Unfortunately, there is no additional inspection form, nor a record of who rented the car after Edgeworth, and therefore no record of who might have been involved.

Edgeworth is recalled to the stand to revisit his testimony, and he adds another key detail: while it was a sound that he took to be gunfire that sent him to the defense attorney’s office, Wright had said something strange during the call, mentioning that the office was closed -- as though he was speaking to someone else that had just arrived moments before the shots sounded and the call cut out.

Neither the defense’s office complex nor the Gatewater Hotel have video surveillance of the street; however, the Gatewater does take video of the lobby, which shows one of the four band members leaving around an hour before the crime occurred, two more leaving minutes before the shooting, and the last rushing through the lobby with a trombone case under his arm; notably, he’s the only one of the four to actually take his instrument when he left, as the others were all empty-handed. Most importantly, though, the video proves that no one else left the hotel between the time of the shooting and the time that the police started arriving, which calls into question the notion of an accomplice helping Miles dispose of the body.

This, however, provides the prosecution with a shiny new theory: that Miles hired the band to act as hitmen while he kept his hands clean. As it turns out, the reason the band name seemed familiar to him was because he was set to prosecute the fifth member of their group after his case against Phoenix wrapped up; the prosecutor posits that Miles promised to go easy on their incarcerated bandmate if they took out the defense attorney.

This is a damning accusation, and Maya has no ready response. The Judge adjourns the court for the day, and the defense scrambles to come up with a way to prove that Edgeworth had no part in what happened and place the blame on the truly guilty. She returns to the rental company and, while interviewing Novi further, finds out that the fifth bandmate has a sibling that works at the same agency. She also returns to the Gatewater to speak with the band, and notices that the trombone case in the room doesn’t look like the one from the lobby video. When asked, they say that the old case got lost...which seems odd to her, since the trombone itself is still there and doesn’t appear damaged.

While Maya looks deeper into the band, she reaches out to Miles for insight into the case he was supposed to prosecute. The fifth band member had been taken into custody on suspicion of murder, and while he suspected that the man did not commit the crime alone, he hadn’t yet been able to prove that when all this happened. For the first time, though, Maya starts to see real anger in the prosecutor -- not because these people dragged his good name through the mud with this set-up, but apparently because Phoenix’s blood is on their hands, and he can’t abide the thought of them getting away. He readily gives her access to his office for the other case file (which Chief Prosecutor Skye secures for her) so that she can use it in establishing her own case.

Despite her best efforts, though, Maya simply can’t pull together enough solid evidence to prove that Miles didn’t have a hand in the crime -- and without proof of his innocence, the court intends to find him guilty. But before the judge can hand down his verdict, the courtroom doors open, and a strident Objection! rises from the back of the room...and who should come limping up to the witness stand but Phoenix Wright himself.

The courtroom goes absolutely wild about this.

Understandably, the judge calls for a recess, and before the prosecution can drag him off to prep him for testimony Maya and Edgeworth at least get a minute with him. As it turns out, Maya had forgotten her phone that morning, and Pearl grabbed it for her; just as they were called into court, though, it rang, and Pearl stayed behind to answer -- only to be shocked to hear Mister Nick’s voice on the other end, at which point she rushed off to beg Mister Scruffy Detective to take her to get the defense attorney from the hospital where he’d been for the past few days as a ‘John Doe’ (since he had no ID on him when he was brought in). Maya is overwhelmed to see him alive, if worse for the wear, and Edgeworth…

...he can’t even find words for the feeling.

The celebration is shortlived, though, as Phoenix is dragged off to the witness lobby in short order to prep him for testimony. For all that the prosecution seems to believe he’ll help them, though, Nick gives them absolutely nothing, and instead confirms that he received a call from Edgeworth that evening, and while they were on the phone two strangers came into the office just before he was shot. They dragged him down to the street and threw him in the trunk of a car, then drove to the river and threw him in; most importantly, though, he remembers one of them asking what to do with the case, and another saying they would dump it at the club where it would blend right in; police are immediately dispatched there and find a bloody trombone case (since they’d thrown it into the trunk before loading Nick in) with a rifle inside.

The motive? Everyone knows the Demon Prosecutor’s reputation, and they knew that they’d all go down if he tried the case on their buddy. The enmity between prosecutors and defense attorneys is well known, though, and in particular they knew that Wright had broken Edgeworth’s old record and it had never recovered; they figured it would be easy to frame him for the murder with the right set-up. They had a small window of opportunity while Wright and Edgeworth worked through their trial, and they used it to put all their pieces in place, expecting that Edgeworth would go down and they’d all get off when a less competent prosecutor inevitably got their friend’s case. Clearly, though, that backfired on them: they’re all taken away, and Edgeworth is declared Not Guilty. Cue fanfare and confetti!

...and that’s where the fallout begins.

While Miles is taken to get things squared away with his release from detention, Phoenix is taken back to the hospital because honestly he should not have left in the first place. The man was admitted with a collapsed lung. It’s frankly a wonder he even managed to stand, let alone raise that objection. His recovery takes a while, and Maya and Pearl are frequent visitors...but so is Miles, much to his surprise. Only it’s not a good surprise for him, given what he’d been planning to say on the night he got shot. Things feel awkward, and all the more for how Miles is acting...different. Not like his usual self. Phoenix doesn’t know what it is or if he likes it, but he’s too tired to complain since it’s not bothering him, and visiting hours are relatively short since the prosecutor is still working cases.

Given what happened to him, though, the doctor recommends that Phoenix should stay with someone once he’s discharged: his condition, while improved, could deteriorate rapidly if something happens, so it’s imperative to have someone else around in case of an emergency. Maya and Pearl are still going back and forth between the city and Kurain semi-frequently, though, and he wouldn’t want to impose on them, especially since Pearls has been thinking about attending school in the city rather than just getting her medium training...but though he doesn’t even consider Edgeworth as a possibility, the prosecutor immediately volunteers when he hears: he has more than enough vacation time accrued and the chief prosecutor hounds him regularly about needing to take some, so he can be on hand for whatever Wright might need.

This does not, in fact, reassure Phoenix.

It’s okay enough at first, if only because Nick is just too tired and hurts too much to think about it or care about much beyond finding a comfortable position to sleep in and figuring out how to breathe without it making his chest feel like it’s full of broken glass. But as he starts improving, the tension slowly ratchets up, because Phoenix still doesn’t understand why Miles volunteered for this and the only possible explanations he can think of aren’t really good (most involve having him in the prosecutor’s debt, which is not what he wants). Miles, meanwhile, isn’t aware of this tension at first...but gradually he becomes more and more aware of the silence around Phoenix. It was understandable at first, because he was fresh out of the hospital and still recovering, but the longer it goes on the more noticeable it becomes, and he knows it means something but he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Eventually, though, it all does come out, because Miles finally broaches the subject of his own accord by asking Phoenix what he’d been planning to say that night: he’d said he can’t do “this” anymore, but he never said what “this” is. And even though he’s aware that nothing is likely to cme of it, Phoenix explains exactly what his problem is and has been for so long: the one-sided relationship where he’s the one doing all the work and making all the concessions and getting none of his own needs met in return. It’s exhausting, and he can’t do it anymore. And rather than fighting or arguing the point, Miles -- who has never had a relationship like this before -- asks what needs Phoenix has, and how can he meet them. He concedes the point, he admits that he’s been in the wrong and needs to change, and asks for help figuring out where to start -- because he came so close this time to losing Phoenix permanently, and that realization scares him more than he can say.

Phoenix is pretty well dumbstruck. But he recognizes, too, that this isn’t easy for Miles. He’s reaching out, he’s trying...and even though Nick had intended to cut his losses that night in his office before everything went so wrong, he decides to give this one last shot.

And when Miles listens to what he says, and actively responds and adjusts...he can’t help hoping that this turnabout will end up well.

#replies #cianidix #ace attorney #fanfiction #crime of passion #i wrote the whole thing out in a doc this time so there tumblr #only downside is that i had to go through and manually add formatting again #but that's a small price to pay for not losing my whole summary #also yes i promise that things eventually work out with them #communication is good okay and edgeworth learns this lesson the hard way #but he's able to save the ship before it sinks #and slowly he starts to really gain phoenix's trust #the relationship they end up with is so near and dear to my heart #but this is definitely my magnum opus for the ace attorney fandom #i seem to have one for every fandom i engage in #at present i have five total #it'll be six if i can ever figure out which of the 3h ones is my crowning achievement

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