#but it ain’t maura
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Crossover Angst
Find previous rizzles/bones crossover work here.
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When Booth hops out of the Sequioia and opens Brennan’s door, it’s already kinda late. He’s an in-bed-early, wake-up-even-earlier sort of guy, and this Boston team… They burn the candle at both ends. All ends. Hell, they even strike a match under the middle. He’s tired, and he’s hungry, and he needs a couple hours away from the mania to talk things over with his partner.
Who just so happens to be the woman he’s madly in love with. Christ.
“What is this place?” Brennan asks, rousing him out of his exhausted musing. They amble toward a little storefront on Prince Street, which has seen its tourists exit for the day, leaving locals to patronize the restaurants, the butcher shops, the bakeries, during their last few hours of operation. Angelina’s.
“Little Italian joint, Bones,” says Booth, pulling open the door. The heavy, wooden frame squeals as it swings out, and he licks his lips in some relief. “Hear that? Means the food’s gonna be good.”
Brennan is only inches ahead of him, and she turns with a little disbelief. “The squeaky door?” she chuckles, “how could that possibly relate to the quality of food?”
“Don’t know how to explain it; don’t need to,” he tells her. “There’s mostly Sicilian fare but apparently they’ve got a puttanesca that rivals your own.”
“Your favorite,” Brennan chides. “The whore sauce.”
“The whore sauce,” Booth affirms. “But it comes from my neck of the woods, from Rome. So hey, can’t go wrong, right? Anyway, Rizzoli said they had some good vegetarian options.”
“Ah, Jane recommended it,” Brennan draws out. She takes off her trench coat and hangs it over the back of an old wooden chair when the waiter pointed them toward a table toward the windowfront. “That’s why we’re here.”
Booth knots his eyebrows together. He’s good at reading Brennan, probably better than anyone else, but he’s stumped here. That jumble of words usually signals jealousy, especially in girls - women - but Bones looks pleased. Humored. “That a problem?” he asks, searching for more. He needs more.
“Not at all,” Brennan answers. She does this thing where she shrugs and scoots her chair in at the same time, but the movements are fluid. There is no waste, no excess in the motion of her body. This enthralls him; it always had, though he hadn’t realized it until his love for her crashed down on him in a particularly painful, sweet revelation. Smitten had felt like an apt descriptor, but when Jane told him about the Sicilian thunderbolt, that punch of lightning, that felt perfect. And painful. It’s painful to watch her move, but also exhilarating, like he’s just stuck a fork in a socket. “You respect her.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. She’s good people,” Booth says. He takes the menu given to him by the waiter, and nods toward the middle of the page, where all the red wines are named. “Give us a bottle of the Sangiovese, huh? You’re gonna love this one,” he tells Brennan when the waiter nods and turns their wine glasses right side up before going back for the wine. “It’s bold. Real hearty, velvety Italian flavor.”
“Sounds like we’re still talking about Jane,” Brennan teases. Her eyes sparkle when she looks at him, and she offers him one of her signature, garish winks.
Booth turns dour. He crosses his arms, his crisp white shirt rolled up just under his elbows on either side. “What?” he demands.
Brennan registers the change in mood, and he thinks about lightening up because he can tell she doesn’t know what she’s said, what she’s done, but dammit if he isn’t tired of the games. “Well, I… I wasn’t being very serious, Booth.”
“You weren’t, huh?” He prods.
“No, but, what would be the issue if I were? She’s attractive, you’re attractive, and you’re both single. You seem to suit each other. At least, superficially,” Brennan reasons aloud. She leans forward, puts her elbows on the tablecloth. She believes she’s making sense.
And maybe, in any other world, she would be. Maybe, in another world where she and Booth are just partners, just coworkers who collaborate to bring murderers to justice, just colleagues who sometimes grab after-work drinks, this argument would make sense. Rizzoli is… well, Rizzoli looks like a supermodel and she drinks some of his old army buddies under the table. She’s loud and to the point and kind of grumpy, but he can be, too. He thinks back to that early morning last week, when they’d held hands in mass while the priest ushered them through Eucharistic prayer. After all night at the scene of the first fresh crime they’d encountered in their time together, blood and brain matter and torn flesh seared in their consciousness, they’d agreed together that only the blood of Christ would wash it all away. So they’d dropped their scientists at their respective abodes and trudged into St. Joseph’s just after sunrise. And they’d touched because they needed the intimacy, the spirituality, without all the goddamn battle.
Rizzoli’s perfect on paper.
There’s just, y’know, the problem of both of them being in love with someone else. That thought, of yet another opportunity crushed under the weight of Bones’ magnetism, under the way she expands so as to push anything else out of the room, leaving nothing but the two of them and his annoying heart, angers Booth. He turns his eyes toward the flow of wine out of the bottle and into their glasses. He concentrates only on that so that he can speak without raising his voice. “Why you gotta do that? Why- why you gotta try to hook me up with people?”
“Booth, I was just-”
“No! No,” He shudders when he hears his volume the first time, like he’s gunshy of himself. He quiets down, a fist going into his hand when he props his elbows up on the table like she had. “You… I laid my heart out for ya, Bones. I told you I was in love with you. And god help me, I think you feel the same way. But for whatever reason, you didn’t… you can’t go there with me. And I’m tryin’ to be respectful of that. But this? Tryin’ to get me to go out with other people when you know I’m not even thinkin’ about anyone else right now is…”
“Alright, alright,” Brennan puts up her hand just so he’ll stop. “I… I won’t. I won’t anymore. I just… I care about you, Booth,” she confesses, her blue eyes screwed up and watery like she’s in pain, like she has any right to be in pain when she’s done all the pushing. “You deserve to be happy.”
“That doesn’t sound like you stoppin’,” he grumbles.
“I can’t give you what you want. I… don’t know how to be what you need,” Brennan whispers. She cries openly now, and Booth waves the waiter away as a kindness.
But he still seethes. “Easy, Bones. Just be you,” he says, low and full of spite.
“But it’s not that easy. Of course it’s not that easy. I’ve been me with you for years now and I still… I’m still…”
“Afraid?” He mocks, and when she nods because it doesn’t register with her, because she doesn't see the way he has intended to hurt her. “I just… I don’t get it. Help me understand, here, Bones, because you don’t seem to have trouble bein’ what other guys need. Jerks like Stires, Wexler, oh and god, Mark. Remember Mark?”
“I don’t appreciate-” Brennan’s face drops, she sniffles, and her brow furrows, but Booth pushes right through.
“So it’s me, right? Because you have no problem giving them the time of day, and I’m right here. I’m right here and I’m better. So it must just be that I don’t do it for you. I’m not enough of an asshole,” He is quiet and severe, leaning in to make his point.
She looks toward her glass of wine, thinks about throwing it in his face. And Booth knows he’d deserve it. But the bell over the door rings, and whatever, whoever Brennan sees, makes her put her hand down. “I’m leaving. This isn’t the time, or the place. If you want to have a discussion about this like an adult, give me a call.” She rises, snatches her coat from her chair, and glares at him for good measure.
“Oh? And where’re you goin’, huh?” Booth demands.
She aims to hurt him because she puts her face in his. She only does that when she spits fire. “I’m going to Jane’s. She invited me over to watch the game.”
“Oh yeah? Do you even know which game?!” Booth calls when she starts to walk away. He guesses that Jane’s invite was probably for the C’s game, which is currently just underway, and he guesses that Bones had originally turned it down.
“Doesn’t matter!” She shouts back. She’s right. Really doesn’t matter.
___
“Hmm,” Maura holds Jane’s face as they kiss, soft and sweet in the low candlelight illuminating Jane’s small bedroom. Jane is on top of her, they’re under the covers naked, and god it feels good. Like eating cake with your hands or pouring a second glass of rosé when you said you’d just have one. “Hey.”
Jane groans because talking breaks the kiss open. She writhes closer, deepens the post-coital, sweaty embrace between them in hopes that she can erase all language.
Maura must deny her. She offers Jane one last kiss, but then she tilts her head so Jane’s lips shift to her chin, across her jaw, down her neck. “Hey, hey…” she tries again. “I saw you stuffing down that Powerbar on the way back from Amherst this morning. Was that the last thing you ate?”
At the mention of the Powerbar, Jane’s stomach grumbles on Maura’s own. “What’s it to you?” Jane snarks. There is no bite in it, or rather, no power, because Jane currently bites on the mark she’s already left on Maura’s collarbone.
Maura hates that she doesn’t hate it. That she won’t hate walking in public with it on, she won’t hate people seeing it and wondering. Or knowing that it was Jane. “That was almost twelve hours ago. Let me feed you.”
“You already did,” Jane snarks, teeth still out and nipping.
“Jane,” Maura warns. “I’ll go to Angelina’s. Pick something up and bring it back. Eat with me?”
“Angelina’s, huh?” asks Jane, rolling over onto her back so that her shoulder touches Maura’s. Maura kisses it. “Sounds good. I told Booth about it a few days ago. Thought it might be a good place for him to take Doctor B.”
Maura stops mid-smooch, lips pursed and frozen against Jane’s still-warm skin. “And how are things between you and Doctor Brennan?” she finally asks when she regains her thoughts.
“Uh, normal? Things have been a lot less heated,” Jane says. “Uh, well, maybe that’s not the right word. Things are a lot less acrimonious.”
“But still heated?” Maura prods.
Jane chuckles. “Hey, don’t put words in my mouth when I specifically took ‘em out. But I mean, I’m tryin’, honey. I really am. I invited her over to watch the Celtics and Lakers tonight. Teach her the rules of basketball so she, I dunno, can make it a whole game without embarrassing Booth.”
“And she said no?” Maura turns her head at the exact moment Jane turns hers, and they gaze into each other’s eyes. Jane won’t be able to turn away.
“She said no,” Jane affirmed. “But at least she knows I am attempting friendliness after last week.”
Maura pauses for a long time. Then she inches forward to kiss Jane. She injects it with lust, with luscious and wet intent as she rows their swollen, dusky lips together. “Jane?”
“Yeah?” Jane sighs.
“Don’t fuck that woman,” Maura threatens.
Jane smirks, and immediately Maura knows she’s shown Jane a weakness. But there’s no way she can take it back. She hardly cares about her exposed desperation. “Which one?” asks Jane. “Abby in payroll? She’s been wanting me to ask her out for years,” she teases. And god, she’s right. Abby wants Jane, pines for Jane even now. Even if Jane is full of shit. Maura frowns. Jane laughs, then quiets. “Or the Chief Medical Examiner? I heard she’s a real ice queen but I think she likes me.”
Maura softens at that, and shakes her head. This time, it’s her teeth that sink into Jane. Both soft and hard, and into Jane’s shoulder. “Don’t. Fuck. Her.” she reiterates.
There is no room for discussion.
“You got it,” Jane kisses Maura’s forehead with kindness when Maura latches onto her with possession. “You really gonna go get food? Because I could go for that Brasat’.”
“Beef, hmm? You’re quite hungry,” Maura muses, but she does sit up and look for the jeans she put on to come here.
“I just burned an NBA game’s worth of calories!” Jane answers back, But she blushes when Maura looks back from over her shoulder and smirks. They lock eyes, and certainly, the same scene, where Jane grips the corner of the bed while she drives into Maura from on top, crying out when Maura scratches long red lines down her back, runs through both their minds. “But I don’t have to tell you that.”
“I am going to get food, yes. I’ll even get an appetizer for us to share. But you have to get up now,” Maura orders. She stands, her pants on, and she shuffles around until she finds her bra. After that’s on, she shrugs her blouse over her shoulders. Jane continues to lay, and her eyes flutter shut. “I mean it, Jane. I’m not ordering all that food just for you to be too sleepy to eat. Get up. Get dressed. Turn on the game - find a way to stay awake.” Maura says. Then she throws a decorative pillow in Jane’s face.
“Ouch, fuck! Alright, alright, I’m gettin’ up,” grouses Jane.
She does indeed sit, and Maura rewards her with a kiss to the lips. “Good. I’ll be back. Set the table.”
“Yup,” says Jane.
Maura slips on her sandals, and lingers in the bedroom doorway. She doesn’t say anything, but catches Jane’s eye one more time and nods. Then she leaves.
Her car is close; Jane had given up her parking spot for Maura and put the unmarked around the corner. Maura had hidden the giddy, bubbly smile the gesture inspired and opened her legs instead.
She really, really needs to stop doing that. At least, long enough to give her some time to think. Cases like this were always hard, and up until now, Maura had medicated by sliding Jane into place on top of her and blanching her brain. Well, now appears to be more of the same, but then, they’d been married, and it had been… allowed.
She trots down the stairs and out the side exit of the building, straight into the parking area. She gets in her car, turns on the engine, and sighs. They’re grown adults. They can sleep with whomever they please, including each other. But something about all of this feels forbidden, and Maura wonders if that’s why she likes it. That’s the part that she needs to slow down on. The part she needs to figure out. The part that feels like using, as she’d confessed to Jane some nights ago.
Angelina’s is not far from Jane’s place, maybe a ten, fifteen minute drive, so Maura calls in her order before she pulls out of her spot. Maura also contemplates all these things as she maneuvers there, and mourns the Maura who had put down some of the best boundaries of her life at the start of her divorce. Where is that Maura? When she pulls up to the neighborhood, Jane’s old neighborhood, she finds a spot on Hanover Street and makes the short trek over to the storefront, resolving to worry about boundaries after she gets food into Jane’s belly.
When she pulls open the old wooden door and steps inside the entryway, her sandals scrape against the mosaic-style tile until she stops where she stands. “D… Doctor Brennan?” she sputters when the woman herself stands up from her table. Brennan says something to Booth, Maura can tell him by his shoulders, hulking and sad. And then, Brennan makes her way to the door. Toward Maura.
She’s angry. Maura reads the microexpressions and stands aside, while offering a half-smile and a look in that direction. No eye contact, that would make the both of them too uncomfortable. “Doctor Isles,” Brennan says, just before she pushes toward the door. “Have a great night.”
“Are you-? Where-?” Maura is still shocked to see the both of them here, she feels as though she should say more, that they should have a perfunctory conversation at least; her Brahmin upbringing vibrates within her. But Brennan is already gone.
The door swings and rattles in its frame and there are a few head turns from other patrons, but that settles quickly enough as Brennan’s form retreats into the North End evening. Maura walks up to the counter, hands over her card, and in less than a minute or two, both it and her boxes of food are brought out to her, tied up nicely in a plastic bag.
She is about to leave, to abandon the awkward situation she just messily dove into, until she turns and sees Booth’s face - well, she should revise. She doesn’t see his face, because it’s in his large hands, the heels of which press into his cheeks. She shakes her head, and then she crosses the few short feet to get to him. “Sangiovese is one of my favorites,” Maura tells him. He jolts, just a bit, and squints when he looks at her.
“Doctor Isles, hey, how are ya,” He says. There is no conviction in it.
“I’m just fine,” she starts. Then, she puts her bag of food on the table. “I’m picking up dinner for my ex-wife when I know I should not be. I’m very confused. All the time.”
He chuckles once, bitterly. “Yeah? Me too. Join the party,” he says. Then, he shrugs, like the assholishness is something he can remove like a coat. “I’m sorry, y’know. That you and Rizzoli are such a mess.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through your own mess,” Maura nods toward the door. “Is she alright?”
Booth sighs, and leans back into his chair, his glossy eyes toward the ceiling. “I don’t think so. I think I made the mess. And right now she’s, agh. Well, apparently she’s over to your guys’ place to catch…” he slides his watch around, “well, I’m assuming Celtics/Lakers.”
“She’s… she’s going to Jane’s?” Maura asks. Her head pounds, and she squeezes her hands together. She sucks her teeth.
And Booth, of course he reads that. He quirks a brow. “You didn’t know?”
“I thought she said no,” Maura’s acrimony leaks through the veneer, but she pulls it back as soon as it trickles forward. “You didn’t even get to eat?”
Booth chuckles. “No, no we didn’t.”
Maura pats the top of her bag. “Well, let’s eat this, shall we? It’s warm. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
Booth leans forward, rubs his hands together. “What about Jane?”
“She ate,” Maura snaps, pink suffusing her cheeks. Vengeance is a dish best not served at all. Her own words ring hollow and mocking in her head - do not fuck that woman. “And if she gets hungry enough she can have some cereal. We’re here, we should enjoy the cuisine while it’s fresh.”
“You know what I really wanna do?” says Booth. He downs the rest of the glass of wine in front of him. “I wanna go over to that bar next door. Screw the food.”
Maura hangs her head and she laughs. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” says Booth. Now that he thinks about it, he’s sure of it. He drops enough cash on the table to cover the bottle of wine and then some, and then he stands up and shrugs his blazer on. “They’re havin’ their fun, why don’t we?”
“Ok,” replies Maura. She stands, too, and smirks when she sees her package on the table. “Screw the food. They have a scrumptious Amarone that I think you’ll like.”
“I will, huh?” asks Booth, holding open the door as they step into the cool spring air. He holds out his elbow and she takes it, even though the walk isn’t long.
“If you’re like me and the Sangiovese is also one of your favorites, yes,” Maura tells him. She gets the door of the next establishment, and she ushers him in with a hand to the small of his back, like Jane is moving through her.
He is surprised by it, but his smile is warm. Not bitter like it had been when she first saw him in Angelina’s. “Well you got me there, it is.”
They take their place at the bar, just a few other drinkers along its edge, and Booth insists that Maura order for them. She does, and he compliments her taste in reds. The dance floor is old, the lights swooping over it reminiscent of a high school dance, but he wags his brows when the music shifts. “Ole Blue Eyes,” he says when Frank Sinatra begins to croon. “My favorite.”
Maura sips the exceptional drink in her glass before setting it down. She pulls her lips back and stares at the napkin under her fingers. “Jane is partial to Dean Martin.”
“Well, can’t go wrong with the Rat Pack,” Booth says. “Hey, did you uh, did you tell her where you were? Tell her you weren’t comin’ back with her food?”
Maura’s face crumples when she shakes her head. She hides from him, and then she lifts her face up so that her tears don’t ruin what little makeup she has on.
Booth shuffles on his feet. Shit. “Uh, hey, Maura, hey. C’mon. You, you wanna go dance? No talkin’. We can just move a little.”
She looks up, and he looks down, and she can tell he has surprised the both of them with his offer. But, what the hell. She takes her drink, then he takes his, and she leads them over to the floor. They are by far the youngest couple currently dancing, the rest of the people their age at various tables, and they aren’t even a couple. They shouldn’t dance.
But Booth stands there, wide angles, gallant masculinity, open arms, and Maura folds into him. She puts her head on his shoulder and the hand he’s not using to hold his wine at his side goes between her own shoulder blades. Nice. Easy. Safe. He sways her, and she is content to be swayed by him - no expectations or rules.
It is the most comfortable she’s felt with a man wrapped around her - when he is devastated by his love for someone else. When her love for someone else keeps her heart far away from his. “I’m sorry,” she tells him.
“Hey no,” he assures her. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” Frankie sings and he holds her close, and fuck. This may be the saddest he’s ever been. He prays she doesn’t ask him the same question.
“I’m thinking that I’m here with the wrong Italian, Seeley,” Maura whispers, turning so that it bounces on the cavern of his chest. “You are so unbelievably kind. But wrong. But I can’t stop hurting her.”
“You know, I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” he says. She’s unburdened him with that confession. So hell, maybe, even though it feels like digging a hot poker into his belly, he should just confess, too. “I was thinkin’ that I’m here with the wrong scientist. But she, oh god,” he inhales without exhaling, a ragged breath that cuts into the air around them. He catches her tears like a virus, but his don’t fall. “She can’t stop hurting me. What a pair, huh?”
Maura wraps her arms around his waist despite her drink, as though she’s forgotten it and knows only the shape of the glass in her hand. She squeezes him because he is warm and if she closes her eyes he feels like Jane. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I feel like I’m looking at myself from the outside, unable to get her to stop.”
Maura doesn’t feel like Bones at all. But Maura needs him. Needs him to lie, needs him to hold her, needs him to ride out this slow dance and maybe a few more glasses of wine. “Things are… things are gonna be just fine, Maura. They’re gonna be just fine.”
She doesn’t say it back to him.
#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction#lauren writes crossover fiction too#god this was a little sadder than I intended#it will help you if you read the last piece for *sports context*#I imagine the very next scene to be Jane opening the door in her lounge clothes and a bowl of cereal hoping to see maura on the other side#but it ain’t maura#also don’t worry we’re not and nor will we ever be mixing ships here#b&b and rizzles are too in love with their respective partners to do that
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I pretty sure you’ve single-handedly unlocked a new hyperfixation within me
I’ve been vaguely following Billie the kid, watching their reels, enjoying bow pics, and of course the queerness of it all. This whole time I had very little clue what the plot was just that it was Queer and Ryan Kopel was involved (I mean what more could you need really) but after reading you brief synopsis of it I have the urge to absorb any and all information pertaining to this show so thank you for that /gen 🫡🫡
P.S. your art is lovely thank you for sharing it with us all <3
so help me god i will turn the venn diagram between daisies and fansies into a CIRCLE-
thanks so much maura, i'm glad i could give you some more information on the show nad allow you to connect to it in some way!! i have plenty of posts with a bunch of information about the show, including my rough notes, and i'd be happy to send you all the links i have if you'd like them! just shoot me a DM and i'll pass them along :)
PS i don't quiiiite know what you mean by art? none of those photographs were mine and i haven't made any art for it at all, only a themed battle jacket i made for the show. the only creative thing i do is writing, and i haven't really written anything for the show yet, besides this:
“So, like-” Christ, Jack can feel himself getting breathless with how excited he is, “-okay – rodeos. Are those actually, like… A thing? ‘Cause I’ve seen YouTube videos-”
Davey scoffs into his coffee.
“God, Jackie, the south isn’t all cowboys and rodeos. Sometimes places are just places.”
David shoots him a quizzical look, which makes Davey give him the same look right back, the two of them such a flawless mirror image that Jack’s brain is bending in half trying to comprehend it.
“What?” Davey tries to smile, but Jack’s known him long enough to recognize his nervous twinges.
“I mean…” David swivels his hawk-eyes across the table, peering from person to person as he judges what to say. “Yeah, you’re right an’ all, Winchester Creek ain’t nothin’ special, but – kinda rich comin’ from you, huh?”
Davey frowns.
“Coming from me?”
David blinks at him owlishly, and it’s such a Davey mannerism that Jack has to shake his head a little just to shift David back behind the line that separates the two.
“Dude.” He says flatly. “You came third in bronc ridin’ at our junior rodeo back when we were like, twelve.”
“What?!” Davey splutters, though Jack can barely hear him – the whole table’s yelling over each other at the sheer idea of Davey in a rodeo, and Jack’s too busy staring at him, mouth agape, his terrible mind filled with equally terrible images of Davey on a horse, Davey with a lasso, Davey shirtless on a horse with a lasso-
“C’mon, you know this!” David insists. “It was that summer your dad got hurt real bad an’ ya momma sent ya ‘round to us, remember? You were there for months and ya fuckin’ hated it, so my pop gotcha into our county’s Li’l Britches. I know,” he scoffs, tipping back a little in his seat, “because pop made us stay there the whole day before you went on. Think he thought I’d get jealous and wanna join in.” He tips his chin up curtly and takes what is quite possibly the bitchiest sip of his cold brew. “Didn’t fuckin’ work, though.”
“David.” Jack says gravely, and when two heads turn in synchrony to look at him, quickly adds, “uh, sorry, no – my David.”
“Well, I could be.” David shrugs with a sly grin, and Jack’s whole body feels like paper being punched into a little ball.
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For the fic title game:
-Ain't That a Kick In the Head
-Physical Evidence
from this ask game
Ain’t that a Kick in the Head
Seven of Nine story — very introspective and broody about her life so far from the Delta Quadrant to the Alpha Quadrant. Its a short story, 1000 words at most, I think.
Physical Evidence:
A Raffi/Seven AU but Rizzoli and Isles style — with Seven as Isles and Raffi in the Rizzoli role.
We keep the TV backstory about Maura’s real parents and translate the Borg Collective into a mob crew. (Janeway is still Seven’s complicated mentor), and she still gets the nickname Seven because she’s friends with Agnes and Seven Shots Annika is still a thing, and somehow it stuck.
(What if it was Janeway who saved Seven from a life of crime? Like how Janeway saved Seven from the Borg.)
Raffi keeps some of her Picard backstory — but with some of Dani Reese (from NBC’s Life) flavoring. Undercover, went too deep. She took down the bad guy. Picard isn’t her direct superior, I’ll make that Riker, who would be a lot more hands on in helping Raffi in her recovery and keep her on track. Raffi’s personal life might be a mess but she’s a damned good detective.
Raffi is all about her gut (but she’s also great at pattern recognition), and Seven is all about the physical evidence.
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Giovanni: What do you mean Jane and Maura just got together? They been together for years, ain’t they?
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Grave Bound - Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Summary: Elias is shot.
TW: gun violence, wartime violence, friendly fire, blood, brief medical gore, language, etc.
WC: 3 K
1973
Maura sucked another French fry into her mouth, giggling as she did.
“Careful, don’t choke on your food.” Maggie doted on her niece nervously.
“She’ll be alright, Mags.” Elias winked covering her hand with his.
“I’ll be all right, Mags.” The girl sang out as she grabbed for another.
“That’s aunt Mags to you,” Bopping Maura on the nose, the girl crinkled her face before abruptly turning to Elias.
“Can you carry me on your shoulders? On the walk to the movies?” Eyes wide, Maura puffed her lips out. Blushing, Elias looked to Maggie for approval. She nodded encouragingly before he turned back to the little girl. Mousy curls shined in the low light, topped off with a red velvet bow.
“Sure, kiddo.”
Children made him nervous, how they could easily see through the façades adults worked to uphold and cut through to raw emotions. They never missed a beat; Maura was no exception. Especially as she watched the two stealing coy looks or stroking the other’s hand.
“Are you going to get married?” It was said casually as someone asking about the weather. Maggie’s jaw slackened, red flushing her face in a wave.
“Maura-” She began before Elias squeezed small fingers in reassurance.
“It’s alright. She’s just a kid.” Flashing a gap-toothed grin, he turned his attention to the girl waiting patiently for an answer. “I can’t tell you that, squirt. What I can say is that your Aunt Maggie is one special lady that I like a lot.”
“Do you love her?” It was shocking how a child could so easily ask a question without feeling the weight of the words themselves. Maggie tried to placate herself, patting her niece’s head while the man struggled to form a coherent sentence. He did. But what if he bore his beating heart to a person he’d thought long gone only to be sliced apart? It seemed unlikely, yet he was far too fragile to find out.
“That’s a difficult question.” Sighing, he avoided the gaze of Maggie and the scoundrel who didn’t know any better.
“Nuh uh,” Shaking a head of mousy locks, she was adamant. “You do or you don’t. That’s easy, ‘Lias.”
“She’s really holding my feet to the flames, ain’t she?” grabbing a stray French Fry, he leaned back in the booth while the woman shook her head. Maura’s attention was thankfully turned back to the wind-up toy that came with her meal.
“You don’t have to answer her. I won’t be offended,” Tidying up the table, Maggie tossed any stray garbage atop the bright red tray. “But I think we should get this trouble-maker out the door before we miss the movie.”
Reaching over to tickle an unsuspecting Maura, Mags started a bout of laughter with any prying questions forgotten. Watching in awe, Elias tried to ignore the butterflies in his gut. Instead, he followed the two as they lead the way out of the burger joint. The veteran kept his promise and hoisted the girl atop muscular shoulders when they were on the sidewalk.
“It’s not gonna be that great of a view, kiddo.” Two chubby hands wound into his hair like it was the reigns of a horse.
“I can see the whole world.” She gasped in awe, watching as they trudged through throngs of people.
“This is very sweet.” Maggie leaned in close, heart hammering at the sight of him sweetly looking up past a mop of hair, hands wrapped around tiny ankles in case gravity tried to pull Maura away.
“Piggyback rides?” Arching a brow, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself.
“No. For helping me with the munchkin. You’re really good with her.”
“You want your own now?” he teased, elbow lightly jabbing at her arm.
“Didn’t you promise me a cottage on the countryside where we’d have a bunch of kids?” eyes fell nervously on the concrete, afraid to meet his gaze. Elias smiled to himself, remembering the conversation like it was yesterday.
“That was a long time ago.” Glancing upwards assured the girl was still safely balanced on his shoulders. “How about the cottage with a herd of dogs?”
“As long as you’d be there with me, I’d be happy.” Looping an arm with his, Maggie leaned into to the rough fabric of his military jacket. Onlookers would think them to be a family; she beamed at the thought.
1969
They had to ship out at dawn, snipe out the NVA stragglers before there was an entire battalion on their hands. It was bound to be messy, more than half of the leading ranks in the chopper as the others scouted on foot.
Elias loaded his gun, trying to ignore the scalding look Barnes shot from across the way. Thankfully, King and Chris sandwiching the man from either side was enough to keep Bob and his cronies at bay. The return from R and R had been brutal with Barnes, O’Neill, and Warren riding his ass nearly every day. Harris was too busy to call off the dogs while Wolfe didn’t have the balls to.
Caldwell had the infirmary bustling, all of her girls running around like chickens with their heads chopped clean off. Hell, he’d barely seen hide nor hair of Maggie since they were back on enemy soil. It was a difficult transition, having her warm and cozy against his chest to not being able to even so much as brush hands in passing.
Pushing the thought from his mind, Elias attempted to focus. All of the men were silent, except for Red.
“Nice hickey, Grodin,” he spat, earning a smarmy laugh from Bunny. “Fire crotch responsible?”
“Nah,” the skin over his clavicle was burning, the love bite purpling a bit. “Got this one from your mother. She’s a bit of a fire crotch herself.”
“Bastard,” the sergeant muttered amongst the chittering. Even Warren and Bunny cracked a smile while Barnes finally broke his scalding gaze from the sergeant as the chopper prepared to land.
“Get ready to move.” he announced harshly, everyone checked their weapons once more as the helicopter landed. Elias felt his heart thudding; there was always the possibility they wouldn’t make it back.
The thought continued to gnaw at the back of his brain. Would this be it? Anytime could be, so what made now any different? Half his team wanted him nailed to a damn cross for altruism alone. Strapping his rifle across a broad back and pushing a camouflage headband over a wild plume of hair, he was ready to head out into the jungle as soon as strategizing ceased.
The rain was coming down heavy, immediately soaking them to the bone. Most of the boys dawdled, bitching about the oncoming monsoon while Elias began legging it. Taylor jogged to the man’s side.
“Need any cover?” the kid was winded, adjusting his helmet under the force of the rain; Elias ditched his own. One large hand clapped Taylor’s shoulder. “Watch your back?”
“I move faster alone,” he added with a grin and a wink before charging through sheets of rain and taking shelter in the thicket of teakwood trees. Chris watched as his superior darted into the jungles, disappearing from sight. He hosted nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for the sergeant; but something felt off.
Barnes barked orders in the distance before following his compatriot’s steps into the jungle. Taylor assumed to cover Grodin; yet a nagging thought was moving his feet forward. Keeping a safe distance, Bob hadn’t the damnedest idea that the private was tracking him like a wild buck.
……
The enemy squadron dropped like flies, tumbling to the jungle floor as bullets pierced their chests, throats, and heads. Elias was fast on his feet, darting from behind one tree trunk to another. Gunfire splintered bark in his wake; swallowing hard, he took one steady breath before picking off another two men.
It was dirty work, killing. Supposedly it was in the name of the U.S.A., eradicating communism once and for all. But they weren’t any different than the Vietnamese men doing the same exact thing. The most he could do was afford their enemies a quick death. He wouldn’t stoop to becoming animal, like the brutal death Manny had endured or Bob terrorizing innocents.
Elias had one job, and that was keeping himself alive. He was a killing machine and would pay for his sins later; right now, he’d gun down the rest to stop a bullet from zipping into his own body.
Rain filtered in from the canopy of trees. No more soldiers were lingering, any survivors likely sprinting to alert the rest of the squadron. More would be charging soon, but he had to keep one step ahead. Branches snagged bare biceps as he toted his M15.
Water droplets trickled down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down the man’s spine. Spinning on one heel, mud was ground into boots as a sound was investigated. Jade scales shimmered as a snake slid up the trunk of nearby tree.
“Jump at the damned wind, why don’t ya?” he scolded himself before continuing down his path. The brush was thick, impeding his vision. A figure stood across the clearing.
Shit.
Blue eyes were quick to gaze through the scope, aiming at the target. Then the crosshairs were being dropped as he let out a sigh of relief. Sergeant Grodin had never been happier to see Bob. Barnes was obviously annoyed, rifle lowered momentarily. This wasn’t the first he had to find his equal after Elias decided to go rogue.
A genuine smile broke out across his face.
He was safe.
Giving a half wave, the other sergeant remained stone faced. In a cruel twist of fate, Bob cocked his rifle once more before shooting his benevolent counterpart. The perpetual thorn in his side. Shell landing in his shoulder, the reverb nearly knocked Elias to the jungle floor.
You’re fucking dead!
The words had hardly registered over the blood pounding in distracted ears, his own men forced to restrain their leader as Elias wanted nothing more than to beat Bob’s face in. To let their men rape and pillage like human decency didn’t matter any more.
Was it all because of the court martial? Christ, they were on the same team! Though that felt questionable as another shell hit him in the left pectoral. The pain was unimaginable, gravity pulling him down to the mud. Dark red blossomed across his fatigues; it felt as though his lung had burst like a balloon.
Finish me, you bastard.
Yet the words stuck in his throat as long fingers dug into the soggy earth below. Not wanting to draw the entire NVA, he’d die silently for the sake of his platoon. In a moment it would all end, taking the hurt with it. His whole life would flash by like a slide show.
Necking with Jeannie in his pop’s car, the Grodin family vacation to Mesa, the last time he, Paul, and Jules were close. The gaggle of nieces and nephews that adored him. Maggie May and that pretty smile of hers. That Lady of Guadalupe pendant that still burned against his skin. He’d think of his Wild Child for as long as he had left.
Which wouldn’t be much longer.
……
A chain of soldiers had tracked each other into the depths of the jungles. King had followed Taylor when he ditched the squad before disappearing on his own. The more experienced man watched as the kid held his sights steady on Barnes. That runt had some massive balls to think he could pull this off alone. King was grateful for internal intuition, feeling something to be off when two of the sergeants were nowhere to be found at the beginning of a crucial strike.
“Think we can get him?” Rhah whispered. King didn’t respond, wiping rain from his brow. If they played their cards right, there was a chance they could get Elias back to the medic on the chopper. One wrong move and Bob would slaughter them all quicker than shit.
“Go find Harold,” King demanded, “We’ll need someone to carry boss man.”
“What about us?” Rhah cocked his head, “Elias is a scrawny fucker, I think we could manage.”
“If he makes it, that’s first thing I’m telling him. Harold can carry that little son of bitch like a sack of potatoes. We’ll need all the fire power we got on Barnes. Now go!”
Rhah bolted as King continued to watch the scene unfold. It was like waiting for an asp to strike, filled with venom and rage. As soon as the kid got Barnes to drop his rifle, the larger man quickly took control of the situation. One beefy forearm was wrapped around a thin neck, pulling that skunky bush of hair closer.
The shining tip of a push dagger glinted in overcast light before the blade dug into Taylor’s cheek, eliciting a cry and giving King mere seconds to plan. Taking his chance, he capped Barnes in the left knee. The sergeant howled loud enough to alert the entirety of the NVA.
Shit.
“Grab his rifle and kinfe, Taylor!” the kid doubled back to see King charging, Rhah and Harold clomping through the foliage in the distance. The private nodded as Bob growled. “Where’s he at, kid?”
“Over here,” the youngest man ran about fifty feet away to a cluster of trees. King beckoned for Harold to follow while Rhah pushed the barrel of his rifle into Barnes’ scarred cheek. The other two were on Taylor’s heels, as the private dropped to the mud.
Elias grinned with bloodied teeth, barely clinging to consciousness. Seeing his best friend alive made the entire ordeal a little easier to swallow. Grodin was a tough fucker; maybe he still had a fighting chance if they were quick. King fell to the man’s side.
“What’s…what’s your plan, private?” Elias tried his best to keep his spirits high, considering how lucky he was to even be found.
“To get your pasty ass to the chopper. Can you breathe?”
“Through the blood?” he chuckled, red bubbling up against his lips. “Barely.”
“Shit,” King attempted to suppress the bleeding unsuccessfully as red trickled from his chest at a steady pace. They had to be quick to find a medic and get some morphine and sutures until they got back to camp.
Harris was going to be pissed. The amount of paperwork this little ordeal cost would be monumental, and their captain was already spread thin enough.
“Sounds promising,” Elias choked, eyes glazed over; death was uncomfortably close.
“Now’s not the time to be a smartass,” King sniffed, holding back the urge to sob.
“Now’s not the time to be a hero, either. Save your own asses. Just tell Maggie that I love her.”
“You’ll get to tell her yourself.” Looking to Harold, the man nodded before carefully taking Elias into his arms. Groaning in pain, he begged to be put down like a dog while the soldier carried him with ease. Chris flanked them as they ran towards the mouth of the jungle.
King helped Bob to his one good foot, he and Rhah doing whatever they could to make the process more uncomfortable. But they weren’t him. No matter how much he wanted to paint the trees with the traitor’s brains, the private wouldn’t stoop that low.
……
The chopper touched down, bringing a gust of wind in it’s wake. Nurses gathered at the mouth of the measly infirmary, headed by a nosey Mariano. Maggie refused to interact, wary of what gore she’d be destined to see this time.
Rachel liked getting an idea od what to expect, knowing it couldn’t be anything good if a helicopter was returning half of them already. The soldiers had only set out at dawn and it was hardly ten o’clock. The vehicle held more men than expected, several medics hopping off before pulling down a stretcher.
Dust swirled around scuffed boots as they hauled ass to MASH as a worried Rhah followed closely behind, pulling a bloody Barnes’ at his side. The sergeant’s kneecap was blown open, forcing the man to limp. The rest of the injured were remnants of Charlie and Delta squads. Crossing her arms, Rachel steeled herself as Bob’s bloody justice was most definitely a harbinger of something worse.
Where there was smoke, the flames always lapped close behind.
As the gurney loomed closer, Rachel recognized a bloody Elias. Dark eyes widened as she saw how bad the man’s condition was. Head lolled to one side, blood pooled in the center of his uniform, morphine drip piercing one arm to dull the pain.
King and Wolfe hopped from the carrier next, arguing before being met by Captain Harris. It was impossible to make out what they were saying exactly. The older man chastised them both while the young lieutenant pointed angrily at King.
Rhah met Rachel’s worried gaze, tired and remorseful. Before she could even inquire about what transpired in the jungles, there was a blood curdling scream that resonated from inside the MASH tent. One that had them all frozen in place. It was an animalistic sound, feral and unrelenting.
Rachel ran to the bustling tent in rushed fervor. Doctors cursed at Caldwell to keep her girls in line while the major struggled to hold Maggie back. Mary held the red head’s other arm, looking to the brunette desperately. The woman attempted to reason with her subordinate, ending with a sharp smack to a rounded face.
“Mariano,” Caldwell commanded, “Take Wilson back to her bunk now. She’s gonna cost the man his life if she stays here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” saluting, the woman ran to her subdued friend who had dropped to her knees. Caldwell and Kelly rushed to help medics once they realized Maggie wouldn’t interfere. Face swollen and blotchy from the sobbing, her blue eyes looked up in desperation. “We have to get you out of here.”
“He’s dying, Rachel,” her voice was oddly flat, considering the outburst, “Elias is dying.”
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Newcomer Charlotte Morris Journeys Through Love and Loss On Wild Child, Due September 29
New Album Highlights Her Insightful Writing & Exquisite Voice; A Magical Mix That Helps Ease The Pain
Newcomer Charlotte Morris takes her listeners on a journey through love and loss with her latest album, WILD CHILD, due out September 29. Deeply personal, the 10-song collection shares vulnerable moments, lifelong hurts and hopeful reflections that will resonate with music lovers of multiple genres.
Morris describes this outing as “genuine, raw and emotional music with a purpose.” The songs are powerful, the messages diverse –a magical mix that is the perfect culmination of concept, creation, and excellence of craft. From her parents’ divorce during her childhood to a friend’s sudden death, the hard life lessons keep coming. Morris’ insightful perspective and exquisite voice soften the blows and give the listener time to absorb the pain and take heart from the lesson. Spun from a classic Folk/Roots foundation and burnished with the drive of modern Country, Charlotte’s music embodies the storytelling of theatre as she lays it all on the line. WILD CHILD, her first album release since moving to Music City, is baked with all the insecurity, fear, curiosity, and joy that come with growing from a wild child into a wilder woman. Fans can pre-order WILD CHILD now.
The album kicks off with the poignant “Tennessee,” an ode to a passing – but memorable – love. Charlotte’s voice whispers and soars, flawlessly marking moments to reflect upon in the future. Her current single, “Your Number One,” lands next with a sensuous salsa beat that launches into a pop-driven, riff-laden chorus which proves heartbreak songs need not be staid ballads to be effective. The Country Network premiered the acoustic companion music video earlier this week. Other highlights can be found throughout and include a moving tribute to a friend who died young. “The Day We Lost You” is beautifully written and artfully produced, and Morris makes the most of her ethereal voice in this testament to grief – as a process, as a fact of life and as a world of its own. The trauma and tragedy of addiction are addressed in “Good Kind Of Hurt,” a song Morris wrote of her stepdad’s struggle with alcoholism. “Watching this amazing man, a military veteran, go through what he did and knowing his history with PTSD, I am so proud and so thankful that he was able to find his way to sobriety.” Morris imbues a sliver of a silver lining in even the darkest of times with her awe-inspiring voice – and her writing is where she searches for that first glimmer of light. “I hope ‘Good Kind Of Hurt’ can help at least one person recognize any addiction in their life and find the help they need,” Charlotte reflects. The disc closes with “This Time ‘Round,” a rousing, feel-good anthem for anyone struggling to push forward with their dream. “You’ll never get where you wanna go if you stop trying,” Morris says. “It’s all about drive, and this song gives you just that.”
Full Track list
- Tennessee
- Your Number One
- Love Ain’t Real
- Wild Child
- Good Kind of Hurt
- Breathe
- The Day We Lost You
- Time Will Tell
- If My Heart Had a Say
- This Time ‘Round
Recorded at two of Nashville’s premiere studios (The Castle and Omnisound), WILD CHILD was produced by William Gawley (Taylor Hicks, Taylor McCall, Taylor Rae) and engineered by Bryce Roberts (Old Crow Medicine Show, Willie Nelson, Florida Georgia Line). Gawley pares down the production to let Morris’ crystalline voice shine. A-list musicians on the project are just as deliberate in their roles. Top tier contributors include bassists Dave Francis (Maura O’Connell, Luke Combs) and Dow Tomlin (Wynonna, Brooks & Dunn, Lee Ann Womack); Wayne Killius on drums (Luke Bryan, Blake Shelton, Big & Rich); David Flint on acoustic & electric guitar (Highway 101, Billy Montana), and Dane Bryant on keyboard (Dolly Parton, Olivia Newton John, Clint Black). WILD CHILD is Charlotte’s second studio album.
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Holidays 1.16
Holidays
Appreciate A Dragon Day
Beatles Day (UNESCO)
Book Publishers Day
Civil Service Day
Day of Lights (Elder Scrolls)
Haru-No-Yabuiri (a.k.a. Day of No Work for the Overworked; Japan)
Inflatable Tire Day
Juuruku Nichi (Ryukyuan)
Kanuma Panda (a.k.a. Tusu Puja; Andhra Pradesh, India)
Laurent Kabila (Heroes’ Day; Congo)
National Bouvier de Flandres Day
National Day of Peace (El Salvador)
National Good Teen Day
National Nothing Day
National Religious Freedom Day
National Startup Day (India)
National Without a Scalpel Day
National Work at Home with Your Spouse Day
Psychiatric Technician’s Day
Quit Lying Day
Teacher’s Day (Myanmar, Thailand)
There’s No Business Like Show Business Day
Whiskey A-Go-Go Day
Zeta Phi Beta Day
Zuuruku Nichi (Okinawa Islands, Japan)
Food & Drink Celebrations
International Day of the Croquettes (Spain)
International Hot and Spicy Food Day [also 8.19]
National Fig Newton Day
National Quinoa Day
Prohibition Remembrance Day
3rd Monday in January
Brew Monday (UK) [3rd Monday]
Elementary School Teacher Day [3rd Monday]
Human Relations Day [3rd Monday]
Human Rights Day (Idaho) [3rd Monday]
John Chilembwe Day observed (Malawi) [Monday closest to 1.15]
Junk-Food News Stories Day [3rd Monday]
Martin Luther King Jr. Day (a.k.a. MLK Day, King Day) [3rd Monday]
National Crowd Feed Day [3rd Monday]
National Day of Service [3rd Monday]
Robert E. Lee Day (Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi) [3rd Monday]
Independence Days
Tsardom of Muscovy (Established; 1547)
Feast Days
Benjamin, Pope (Coptic)
Berard of Carbio (Christian; Saint)
Blaise (Armenian Apostolic)
Concordia (Ancient Roman Goddess of Harmonious Relations)
Day of Offerings to the Shemsu of Ra (Ancient Egypt)
Eve of Saint Anthony (observed with ritual bonfires in San Bartolomé de Pinares; Christian)
Fursey (Christian; Saint)
Joseph Vaz (Christian; Saint)
Henry the Hermit (Christian; Saint)
Honoratus of Arles (Christian; Saint)
Lao-Tseu (Positivist; Saint)
Macarius the Elder of Egypt (Christian; Saint)
Marcellus I, Pope (Christian; Saint)
Mr. McTaggart (Muppetism)
Night of the Lemur (Church of the SubGenius)
Nothingness Appreciation Day (Pastafarian)
Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (Coptic Church)
Titian of Oderzo (Christian; Saint)
Tu B'Shevat (a.k.a. Rosh Hashanah La’llanot or Arbor Day; Judaism) [15 Shevat]
Uzhavar Thirunal (Tamil Nadu, India)
Vasant Panchami (Hindu)
Wind Gods of the Eight Directions Festival (Ancient Greece)
Lucky & Unlucky Days
Blue Monday (UK) [3rd Monday] (Saddest day of the year.)
Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]
Premieres
The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Animated Film; 2015)
The Bird Store (Disney Cartoon; 1932)
Black Lightning (TV Series; 2018)
The Famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert, recorded by Benny Goodman (Live Concert; 1938)
Harper Valley P.T.A. (TV Series; 1981)
Hello, Dolly! (Broadway Musical; 1964)
It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got that Swing), recorded by Duke Ellington (Song; 1932)
Jaws, by Peter Benchley (Novel; 1974)
Lucille, recorded by Little Richard (Song; 1857)
Man in the Mirror, by Michael Jackson (Song; 1988)
Shakin’ All Over, by The Guess Who (Album; 1965)
Son of Flubber (Film; 1963)
Star Trek: Voyager (TV Series; 1995)
Summer (Disney Cartoon; 1930)
The Village Smithy (Disney Cartoon; 1942)
Vincebus Eruptum, by Blue Cheer (Album; 1968)
Wayne (TV Series; 2019)
A Zoot Suit (For My Sunday Gal), recorded by Kay Kyser (Song; `942)
Today’s Name Days
Arnold, Maurus, Romedius (Austria)
Anastazija, Mavro, Pavao, Stošija (Croatia)
Alice (Czech Republic)
Maura (Denmark)
Salve, Salvi, Sõlmi (Estonia)
Ilmari, Ilmo (Finland)
Marcel (France)
Dietwald, Marcel, Tilman, Uli (Germany)
Gusztáv (Hungary)
Marcello (Italy)
Lida, Lidija, Lija (Latvia)
Marcelis, Norgailas, Norgailė (Lithuania)
Hilmar, Hjalmar (Norway)
Marcel, Waleriusz, Włodzimierz (Poland)
Petru (Romania)
Kristína (Slovakia)
Estefanía, Fulgencio, Marcelo (Spain)
Helmer, Hjalmar (Sweden)
Aaliyah, Aleah, Aliyah, Paine, Payne, Phillis, Phyllis, Pilar, Priscilla (USA)
Today is Also…
Day of Year: Day 16 of 2023; 349 days remaining in the year
ISO: Day 1 of week 3 of 2023
Celtic Tree Calendar: Beth (Birch) [Day 23 of 28]
Chinese: Month 12 (Dōngyuè), Day 25 (Jia-Xu)
Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)
Hebrew: 23 Teveth 5783
Islamic: 23 Jumada II 1444
J Cal: 16 Aer; Twosday [16 of 30]
Julian: 3 January 2023
Moon: 33%: Waning Crescent
Positivist: 16 Moses (1st Month) [Lao-Tseu]
Runic Half Month: Peorth (Womb, Dice Cup) [Day 7 of 15]
Season: Winter (Day 27 of 90)
Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 26 of 30)
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Holidays 1.16
Holidays
Appreciate A Dragon Day
Beatles Day (UNESCO)
Book Publishers Day
Civil Service Day
Day of Lights (Elder Scrolls)
Haru-No-Yabuiri (a.k.a. Day of No Work for the Overworked; Japan)
Inflatable Tire Day
Juuruku Nichi (Ryukyuan)
Kanuma Panda (a.k.a. Tusu Puja; Andhra Pradesh, India)
Laurent Kabila (Heroes’ Day; Congo)
National Bouvier de Flandres Day
National Day of Peace (El Salvador)
National Good Teen Day
National Nothing Day
National Religious Freedom Day
National Startup Day (India)
National Without a Scalpel Day
National Work at Home with Your Spouse Day
Psychiatric Technician’s Day
Quit Lying Day
Teacher’s Day (Myanmar, Thailand)
There’s No Business Like Show Business Day
Whiskey A-Go-Go Day
Zeta Phi Beta Day
Zuuruku Nichi (Okinawa Islands, Japan)
Food & Drink Celebrations
International Day of the Croquettes (Spain)
International Hot and Spicy Food Day [also 8.19]
National Fig Newton Day
National Quinoa Day
Prohibition Remembrance Day
3rd Monday in January
Brew Monday (UK) [3rd Monday]
Elementary School Teacher Day [3rd Monday]
Human Relations Day [3rd Monday]
Human Rights Day (Idaho) [3rd Monday]
John Chilembwe Day observed (Malawi) [Monday closest to 1.15]
Junk-Food News Stories Day [3rd Monday]
Martin Luther King Jr. Day (a.k.a. MLK Day, King Day) [3rd Monday]
National Crowd Feed Day [3rd Monday]
National Day of Service [3rd Monday]
Robert E. Lee Day (Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi) [3rd Monday]
Independence Days
Tsardom of Muscovy (Established; 1547)
Feast Days
Benjamin, Pope (Coptic)
Berard of Carbio (Christian; Saint)
Blaise (Armenian Apostolic)
Concordia (Ancient Roman Goddess of Harmonious Relations)
Day of Offerings to the Shemsu of Ra (Ancient Egypt)
Eve of Saint Anthony (observed with ritual bonfires in San Bartolomé de Pinares; Christian)
Fursey (Christian; Saint)
Joseph Vaz (Christian; Saint)
Henry the Hermit (Christian; Saint)
Honoratus of Arles (Christian; Saint)
Lao-Tseu (Positivist; Saint)
Macarius the Elder of Egypt (Christian; Saint)
Marcellus I, Pope (Christian; Saint)
Mr. McTaggart (Muppetism)
Night of the Lemur (Church of the SubGenius)
Nothingness Appreciation Day (Pastafarian)
Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (Coptic Church)
Titian of Oderzo (Christian; Saint)
Tu B'Shevat (a.k.a. Rosh Hashanah La’llanot or Arbor Day; Judaism) [15 Shevat]
Uzhavar Thirunal (Tamil Nadu, India)
Vasant Panchami (Hindu)
Wind Gods of the Eight Directions Festival (Ancient Greece)
Lucky & Unlucky Days
Blue Monday (UK) [3rd Monday] (Saddest day of the year.)
Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]
Premieres
The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Animated Film; 2015)
The Bird Store (Disney Cartoon; 1932)
Black Lightning (TV Series; 2018)
The Famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert, recorded by Benny Goodman (Live Concert; 1938)
Harper Valley P.T.A. (TV Series; 1981)
Hello, Dolly! (Broadway Musical; 1964)
It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got that Swing), recorded by Duke Ellington (Song; 1932)
Jaws, by Peter Benchley (Novel; 1974)
Lucille, recorded by Little Richard (Song; 1857)
Man in the Mirror, by Michael Jackson (Song; 1988)
Shakin’ All Over, by The Guess Who (Album; 1965)
Son of Flubber (Film; 1963)
Star Trek: Voyager (TV Series; 1995)
Summer (Disney Cartoon; 1930)
The Village Smithy (Disney Cartoon; 1942)
Vincebus Eruptum, by Blue Cheer (Album; 1968)
Wayne (TV Series; 2019)
A Zoot Suit (For My Sunday Gal), recorded by Kay Kyser (Song; `942)
Today’s Name Days
Arnold, Maurus, Romedius (Austria)
Anastazija, Mavro, Pavao, Stošija (Croatia)
Alice (Czech Republic)
Maura (Denmark)
Salve, Salvi, Sõlmi (Estonia)
Ilmari, Ilmo (Finland)
Marcel (France)
Dietwald, Marcel, Tilman, Uli (Germany)
Gusztáv (Hungary)
Marcello (Italy)
Lida, Lidija, Lija (Latvia)
Marcelis, Norgailas, Norgailė (Lithuania)
Hilmar, Hjalmar (Norway)
Marcel, Waleriusz, Włodzimierz (Poland)
Petru (Romania)
Kristína (Slovakia)
Estefanía, Fulgencio, Marcelo (Spain)
Helmer, Hjalmar (Sweden)
Aaliyah, Aleah, Aliyah, Paine, Payne, Phillis, Phyllis, Pilar, Priscilla (USA)
Today is Also…
Day of Year: Day 16 of 2023; 349 days remaining in the year
ISO: Day 1 of week 3 of 2023
Celtic Tree Calendar: Beth (Birch) [Day 23 of 28]
Chinese: Month 12 (Dōngyuè), Day 25 (Jia-Xu)
Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)
Hebrew: 23 Teveth 5783
Islamic: 23 Jumada II 1444
J Cal: 16 Aer; Twosday [16 of 30]
Julian: 3 January 2023
Moon: 33%: Waning Crescent
Positivist: 16 Moses (1st Month) [Lao-Tseu]
Runic Half Month: Peorth (Womb, Dice Cup) [Day 7 of 15]
Season: Winter (Day 27 of 90)
Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 26 of 30)
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Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?
i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome
I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.
Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon. 🤞 Thank you! 💞
-———————-
now or forever
4k - Rhett writes Link vows.
If you were my boy, Blue
I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)
I’d sing write you a love song
I’d shoot you a star**
If you were my boy, Blue
There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give
From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)
Whatever it takes just to watch you live
continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose
If you were my boy, Bue
I wouldn’t want you all for myself
There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’
In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health
Hand in hand, no longer fightin’
What’s destiny (**)
You and & me
If you were my boy, Blue
I'd marry you
&
Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.
Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.
Link has always been good at improv.
Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.
Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.
Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.
So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.
That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.
His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.
That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.
For this reason.
He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.
Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.
So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.
“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.
Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”
“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.
After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”
“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”
“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking.
“Christy?”
Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.
“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”
Rhett’s still writing.
“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”
“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”
“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”
Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.
After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.
“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”
“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said
Rhett looks away, shakes his head.
Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.
“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.
His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.
Something about him.
Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”
Link reads them.
“You know, just in case.”
Link looks up and tries to laugh.
He doesn’t laugh.
He goes back to reading them.
Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.
“Rhett, these ’re…”
“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”
“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”
Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.
“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”
His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -
a friend -
Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.
It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.
“Christy’s gonna love them.”
It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.
Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.
Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights.
He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.
They’re adults.
They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.
He hopes their kids will get along.
He has a lot of hopes.
All of them involve Rhett.
There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.
Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.
“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”
“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”
Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.
“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”
It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.
Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”
Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.
Then he waits.
He waits for Link to realize what he means.
But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.
The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.
“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.
Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.
“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”
Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.
“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”
Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.
“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”
Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes.
“I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”
Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.
And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.
It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.
His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”
“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.
“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”
Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.
“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.
“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”
Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.
Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.
Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.
The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.
Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.
Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.
He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.
“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.
Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.
Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.
“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.
That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.
Only for a moment.
The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.
They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry.
None of these things can be helped.
“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.
They leave.
They walk straight.
They part again.
Until later.
They move houses and cities and states.
They move mountains, inside and out.
They move together.
Much later.
They join again.
They run crooked.
They return.
To one another.
Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.
In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.
As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.
Sacrifice.
It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.
He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for.
Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.
He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.
He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.
It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion.
His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.
Link twists his again at the admission.
So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.
Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.
Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.
Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.
He wants to clean the slate.
He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.
Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.
The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.
About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.
They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.
“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.
Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.
“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.
“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”
Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”
“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.
“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.
“With what?” she asks.
“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”
“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.
“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.
“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.
Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”
“So?”
“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”
They watch the screen together.
“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.
“Yes,” he breathes out.
There’s a long pause.
“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.
“Yes,” he breathes in.
She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.
“And him?” Christy whispers.
They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.
She squeezes his hand again.
“Yes,” he breathes out.
She leans her head on his shoulder.
“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”
The slate is clean.
There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.
Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.
In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.
On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.
Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.
“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.
“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.
Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.
“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.
Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”
He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.
Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.
He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.
“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.
She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Rhett repeats himself.
So does she.
They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.
“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.
“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.
They fall asleep smiling.
The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.
“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.
“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.
They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.
“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.
He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.
“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”
“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.
“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.
Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.
“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.
“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.
“So are you.”
Link begins to cry.
“Play it for me.”
Rhett wipes his cheek.
“Get my guitar.”
They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.
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the best thing i’ve ever done as a creator is make maura because i just looked at a picture of her and felt safe and if that ain’t the damnedest thing
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What are your top 5 Rizzoli & Isles episodes and what are your top 5 Bones episodes?
Whew what a question! I couldn’t pick just five for Bones, though I will say none of them are after season six. But let’s start with Rizzoli & Isles- these aren’t in any particular ranked order:
A) Money for Nothing - oh my goodness what an episode. Maura learning what it means to be down for Jane? Forsaking all her fancy friends for Jane’s working class family and life? I’m still warm.
B) My Own Worst Enemy - I know Angie Harmon was deep in her husband-sponsored homophobia during this time but the gay jealousy that Jane had over Ian? Jesus. Marvin’s Room in a 42 minute episode of television.
C) He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother - “there are ways of telling me without telling me.” “i think he wanted to apologize for trying to kiss me.” “Tch - Tommy make you sign a Title 18 too?” All that needs to be said. Take the gay feelings from the above episode and dial them up to 1,000.
D) Dance with the Devil - call me messy but I LIVE for Paddy and Hope and their fucked up romance. I also live for Maura’s speech calling Hope out on her shit for fixing up Paddy’s burns. “You made a deal with the devil and it has come due.” WHEW!
E) murderjuana- the case here is boring but also irrelevant. The Maura and Kent Get High scene is cringe and the sign of a dying show. But oh, the fight between Maura and Jane. And oh, the way Martinez sees Jane’s need to protect Maura and oh how he helps her. This character commentary/development was… such a bright spot in a show gasping for air. And the last scene between Jane and Maura is so sumptuous - Maura’s “but what if you can?” still haunts me. Wife things.
Now for Bones:
A) The Man in the Shelter - LIONEL. Booth’s catholicism 🥹 Zach’s midwestern family coming to see him through the glass. 10/10 storytelling.
B) Judas on a Pole - Max Keenan is a *badass*. I love that they established him as a murderer for his kids. I live.
C) Fire in the Ice - hockey booth. The skating scene at the end. That’s all. Go Sports!
D) Hero in the Hold - the gravedigger is such a delicious villain. The whole team risking it all to find booth? Jared forsaking his job? TEDDY PARKER??? and Bones sees his ghost at the end UGH. Again, 10/10 storytelling.
E) The End in the Beginning - Bones AU. Booth’s brain tumor. His pain at his fantasy not being reality.
F) The Parts in the Sum of the Whole - this is the episode in which Booth confesses his love and Brennan rejects him. It is quite possibly the best episode of the show.
G) The Doctor in the Photo - Emily Deschanel acted her entire ass off in this episode. Her I Fucked Up confession in Booth’s SUV broke everyone’s hearts.
There were so many more I could have chosen for each show! What are your guys’ favorites?
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24/7 Dance Convention, Pittsburgh, PA: RESULTS
High Scores by Age:
Sidekick Solo
1st: Penelope LeMieux-’I’d Rather Go Blind’
2nd: Harper McCarey-’I Can Go The Distance’
3rd: Aleah Blair-’Heartbreaker’
3rd: Ava Edmonds-’Let ‘Er Rip’
3rd: Brynley Brett-’Let Me Entertain You’
4th: Elliana Macioce-’Dreamer’
5th: Ella Kirchoff-’VK Mashup’
6th: Gabriella Pallozolo-’Name Game’
7th: Cora Baney-’Work For It’
8th: Layla Bajek-’Free Little Bird’
Mini Solo
1st: Kensington Dressing-’Distant World’
2nd: Emily Polis-’Bloodthirsty’
2nd: Mya Lanigan-’Halo’
2nd: Avaleigh Mackaron-’On A Clear Day’
3rd: Channing Embry-’Blackbird’
3rd: Emmie Whyte-’New York, New York’
3rd: Lexus Natalie-’Shelter’
4th: Kendall Bruce-’Swing Phenomenon’
4th: Jordan Officer-’Wash & Set’
5th: Aili Joyce-’Hurricane’
5th: Giada Reino-’Nature Boy’
6th: Lily Tompkins-’Angel Standing By’
7th: Ava mcLendon-’Ready For War’
8th: Mia Bianco-’Business of Love’
8th: Ava Cutchall-’Wings’
9th: Kylie Pecoraro-’Every Season’
9th: Elyse Rost-’Love Is’
9th: Addie Changoway-’Variation of Don Quixote’
10th: Mia Rossa-’Arms Of The Angel’
10th: Charlize George-’What A Feeling’
Junior Solo
1st: Cameron Voorhees-’Unplugged’
2nd: Sean Detwiller-’Ain’t No Sunshine’
2nd: Caitie Polis-’Fallen Angel’
2nd: Adina Rooney-’Inhale Exhale’
2nd: Maura Matuska-’LJ’
2nd: Bella Rose Penrose-’Spine’
3rd: Julia Chavez-’Everything I Do’
3rd: Ella Way-’Glory’
3rd: Londyn LeMieux-’Human Touch’
3rd: Ivy Gang-’Stutter’
3rd: Joelle Cherry-’Through Water’
3rd: Shayla Blair-’To Be Free’
4th: Bria Burnett-’Lung’
4th: Fallyn Kauffman-’Marathon In Roses’
5th: Isabella Ginevra-’Fight Song’
5th: Avani Agrawal-’Spindra’
6th: Holly Miller-’After The Rain Stops’
6th: Brooklyn Corbett-’Feeling Good’
7th: Paige Borg-’Otto’
7th: Lauren Hudach-’You Are A Memory’
8th: Colette McIvor-’Cold Hearted’
8th: Penelope Ciminieri-’Connected Colors’
9th: Caroline McGowan-’I Love You Always Forever’
10th: Peyton Langworthy-’Ashes’
10th: Tessa Mattina-’Nature of Daylight’
Teen Solo
1st: Ying Lei Pham-’Empty Space’
2nd: Camila Cordero-’Fhantom’
2nd: Tatiana Hagee-’Harvest Moon’
2nd: Sarah Georgiana-’Lungs’
2nd: Isabella Pinkston-’Speaking Of The End’
2nd: Calico Reyes-’Trust In Me’
3rd: Beth Anne McGowan-’Heart Is As Black As Night’
3rd: Isabel Reese-’Inside’
3rd: Olivia Martin-’Smile’
3rd: Jeremy Powalowski-’You Worry Me’
4th: Ava Carroll-’Are You Sure’
4th: Elyse Wingertsahn-’I Cry For Daylight’
4th: Samantha DeFabio-’Multiple Self’
4th: Illiana Victor-’New Memory’
4th: Tori Shaner-’Youth’
5th: Zoey Schneiter-’Do You Feel Real’
5th: Maeve McCormack-’Maybe We’ll See’
6th: Taylor Strilesky-’Dynamite’
6th: Alaina Scabora-’Empty Spaces’
6th: Emily Yap-’Farewell’
6th: Kayle Shaner-’No Rights, No Wrong’
6th: Louise Hindsbo-’Reactor’
7th: London Mitchell-’Bitter Earth’
7th: Samuel Evans-’Coming To An End’
7th: Camryn Lanigan-’Fall Creek’
7th: Hailey Keaveney-’Listen Within’
7th: Shay Kaminski-’Once Upon Another Time’
8th: Isabella Klink-’Gemini Feed’
8th: Jocie Slesinski-’Illness as A Metaphor’
8th: Piper Embry-’No Middle’
9th: Maddie Enright-’Alps’
10th: Maggie Anzells-’Let Me Go’
10th: Taylor Higgins-’Ready’
Senior Solo
1st: Clara Thiele-’Opposing Truths’
1st: Gionna D’Allesandro-’Wish You Were Here’
2nd: Anna Miller-’Godspeed’
3rd: Raegan Stafford-’Villain’
4th: Jocelyn Wynn-’Ego’s Detached’
4th: Cassidy Reigel-’Musical Theatre’
5th: Sarah Beth Lentz-’I Remember Her’
5th: Julia Strasburg-’Never Go’
5th: Trinity Malgay-’Something Short & Sweet’
6th: Keira Fleming-’Oscillating In Time’
6th: Emmalyn Mackaron-’Sans Toi’
6th: Abby Griffith-’The War’
6th: Tori Stewart-’This Woman’s Work’
7th: Madelyn Gaba-’Enough Of Our Disease’
7th: Dana Miller-’Sad Day’
7th: Brooke Cheek-’The Beginning and the End’
7th: Mia Stockle-’Tumbling Lights’
7th: Kylie West-’What A Little Moonlight Can Do’
8th: Emma Girdany-’Flickers’
9th: Katrina Oschmann-’Polly’
9th: Ashley Veverka-’Right As Rain’
10th: Lila Bierman-’Cleo’
10th: Mackenzie Stephenson-’Come Back’
10th: Brooke Kosinski-’La Vie En Rose’
10th: Abbey Barron-’Once I Was Loved’
10th: Megan Kovach-’The Swan’
Sidekick Duo/Trio
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Fly Me To The Moon’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Beat’
3rd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Candy Girls’
Mini Duo/Trio
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Gallows’
2nd: Stars Dance Studio-’Rescue’
3rd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Dr. Beat’
Junior Duo/Trio
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Rhythm’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Exiles’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Dancing In The Dark’
3rd: Middletown Dance Academy-’Jilted’
3rd: Studio 412-’Nature Boy’
Teen Duo/Trio
1st: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Lash Out’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Still Life’
3rd: Middletown Dance Academy-’Ninjaness’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’The Come Down’
3rd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Wheel’
Senior Duo/Trio
1st: Dance Mechanics-’Bills, Bills, Bills’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Enemy’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Because of You’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Let’s Fall In Love’
Sidekick Group
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Bon Appetit’
2nd: Evolving Artists Dance Studio-’Rainbow In Your Eyes’
3rd: Evolving Artists Dance Studio-’Trickle Trickle’
Mini Group
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Undertow’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Mambo No. 5′
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Quake’
Junior Group
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Charge Up’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Hope There’s Someone’
3rd: Studio 412-’Afraid To Go’
Teen Group
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Debut’
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’My Tears Are Becoming A Sea’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’We Rise We Fall’
3rd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Don’t Worry’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’If You Went Away’
Senior Group
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Go Home’
2nd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Runaway Baby’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Senorita’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Smoke Signals’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’So Many Signs’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’That’s Life’
Sidekick Line
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Can You Feel It’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Reflection’
Mini Line
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Steam Heat’
2nd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Straight To Memphis’
3rd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Little Red’
Junior Line
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Better Days Ahead’
2nd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Ice Ice Baby’
Teen Line
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Are You Even Real?’
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Cruelest Month’
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Pump It Up’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’Shining Star’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Remember When’
Senior Line
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Fancy’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Hallucinations’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Misunderstood’
Junior Extended Line
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Cha Cha Heels’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’B.E.P’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Wash’
Teen Extended Line
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Impacto’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’More Than Friends’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Coming In Hot’
High Scores by Performance Division:
Sidekick Jazz
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Can You Feel It’
2nd: Evolving Artists Dance Studio-’Trickle Trickle’
Sidekick Tap
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Bon Appetit’
Sidekick Lyrical
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Reflection’
2nd: Evolving Artists Dance Studio-’Rainbow In Your Eyes’
Mini Jazz
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Mambo No. 5′
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Quake’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Louder’
Mini Tap
1st: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Straight To Memphis’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Big Band Sound’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’HSKT’
Mini Contemporary
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Undertow’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Let The River Run’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’You’ve Got A Friend’
Mini Lyrical
1st: Ludovici Dance Academy-’A Safe Place’
Mini Musical Theatre
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Steam Heat’
Mini Specialty
1st: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Little Red’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Ramalama’
Junior Jazz
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Charge Up’
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Cha Cha Heels’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Trust’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Makes Me Feel’
3rd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Burlesque’
Junior Ballet
1st: Dance Spectrum-’Brazilian Rose’
Junior Hip-Hop
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’B.E.P’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’Ice Ice Baby’
Junior Tap
1st: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Love Myself’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Canned Heat’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Crazy In Love’
Junior Contemporary
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Better Days Ahead’
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Hope There’s Someone’
2nd: Studio 412-’Afraid To Go’
3rd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Hope’
Junior Lyrical
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Yours’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’Fly’
2nd: Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’
Teen Jazz
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’More Than Friends’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Breakin’ Dishes’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Step On Up’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’I Want You to Shake’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Love Is Fire’
Teen Ballet
1st: Dance Spectrum-’Bataille’
Teen Hip-Hop
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Impacto’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’Coming In Hot’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’What’s The Dillio?’
Teen Tap
1st: Dance Spectrum-’Shining Star’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Remember When’
2nd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’Don’t Worry’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Seven’
Teen Contemporary
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’My Tears Are Becoming A Sea’
1st: Evolve Dance Complex-’Debut’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Are You Even Real?’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Pump It Up’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’We Rise We Fall’
2nd: Evolve Dance Complex-’Cruelest Month’
3rd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’If You Went Away’
Teen Lyrical
1st: Dance Mechanics-’Volcanic’
2nd: Dance Spectrum-’We Choose’
3rd: Studio 412-’Beautiful Mess’
Teen Acro
1st: Dance Spectrum-’I Just Wanna’
Senior Jazz
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Fancy’
2nd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’That’s Life’
Senior Tap
1st: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Runaway Baby’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Senorita’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Superstition’
Senior Contemporary
1st: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Go Home’
2nd: Center Stage Dance Studio-’Smoke Signals’
3rd: Dance Mechanics-’As It Was’
3rd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’Night Run’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’The End of the World’
3rd: Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’I’m Rising’
Senior Lyrical
1st: Center Stage Dance Studio-’So Many Signs’
2nd: Ludovici Dance Academy-’The Last Goodbye’
3rd: Dance Spectrum-’Station’
11 O’Clock:
Sidekick
Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Can You Feel It’
Mini
Center Stage Dance Studio-’Mambo No. 5′
Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Steam Heat’
Evolve Dance Complex-’Undertow’
Xtreme Tumbling and Dance Center-’Little Red’
Ludovici Dance Academy-’Straight To Memphis’
Junior
Ludovici Dance Academy-’Love Myself’
Studio 412-’Afraid To Go’
Evolve Dance Complex-’Better Days Ahead’
Center Stage Dance Studio-’Charge Up’
Dance Spectrum-’Crazy In Love’
Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Trust’
Teen
Dance Mechanics-’Final Goodbye’
Dance Spectrum-’Shining Star’
Evolve Dance Complex-’Debut’
Center Stage Dance Studio-’Impacto’
Studio 412-’A Broken System’
Ludovici Dance Academy-’Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself’
Senior
Dance Mechanics-’As It Was’
Ludovici Dance Academy-’Runaway Baby’
Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Fancy’
Center Stage Dance Studio-’Senorita’
Studio Showcase:
Noretta Dunworth School of Dance-’Fancy’
Ludovici Dance Academy-’Runaway Baby’
Evolve Dance Complex-’Debut’
Dance Spectrum-’Shining Star’
Center Stage Dance Studio-’Impacto’
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Okay but Kyle accidentally giving his friends new phrases to use that they hadn’t before BH being around him, like Hal realizing he added class to his vocabulary and he doesn’t understand how that happened, Conn starts calling some specific foods and words with Kyle’s inflection.
Conn in utter seriousness, being caputured by lazurus weirdos: wee fuckers...
OH conn being invited to a family wedding back in Ireland and one of Kyle’s cousin turns to Kyle and is like “why does he sound like that?” / “he’s american, they all sound like that. Handsome, ain’t it?”
Also please imagine Maura Rayner beating Sinestro with a broom to get the fuck out of her house. Because I want to see a women in her 50’s beat the hell outta his dumbass. Also also, if Kyle is only in his 20’s and Maura had him at like a regular age she and Hal could potentially only have a slight difference in ages (about 10 years) which...is endlessly funny to me.
Lol Hal saying slang is golden. But Guy is Kyle’s partner so imagine the swap there. Guy saying class in the thickest Baltimore accent imaginable and Kyle saying some words with his vowels pushed to the front lol.
Conn using the slang is everything to me.
“They all the sound like that” 🤣 Also Kyle putting on his best valley girl to freak his cousins out lol. Kyle being so enamored with Conn is everything to me.
Also yes in this house Maura Rayner is alive so she never got sick because she knocked Sinestro the fuck out and called Kyle to come get rid of him.
Hal and Maura being almost the same age just wow yeah they would be. Hal and Maura just like not being that far apart in age makes them bonding over being overprotective of Kyle all the more funny. A lot of people view Hal as a sort of father figure for Kyle. I stick to brothers just cause that’s their actual dynamic but a brother who’s 20 or so years older than you will take on a parental role sometimes no doubt.
So yeah lol just Maura hanging out with this Green Lantern who she knows she can trust to protect Kyle in space.
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Counting the Ways
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3n6Op4i
by mst_52
In which Maura’s “But I love you” is thoroughly unpacked, forcing Jane to come to an unexpected but not unwelcome conclusion. Post-ep for 2x12 (He Ain’t Heavy...He’s My Brother)
Words: 2310, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F
Characters: Maura Isles, Jane Rizzoli, Tommy Rizzoli
Relationships: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3n6Op4i
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Two Million Minutes (2) - N. Horan
NOTE: here is a requested continuation of my niall imagine entitled “two million minutes” ( thank you @onedirectionobsessed4 ) which you can begin reading HERE if you have not. feedback is always appreciated so if you’d like me to continue please leave a comment! <3 :)
Veronica considered herself an optimist. Everybody around her would agree and label the girl one if they were asked. Bad days happened, but the thick-skinned woman was slow to anger and never really let the fact of being late to a meeting or five o’clock traffic drown her; she was, in one word, buoyancy. In a matter of hours, it seemed Veronica’s perception switched instantly. What she had planned to celebrate in a bittersweet manner as one of the single greatest years of her life on New Year’s Eve was warped. Veronica was not sure if anything was worth celebrating when the love of her life laid in a hospital gown, clueless to her existence.
That statement could be deemed false, the doctor had informed her minutes later. Allegedly, Niall had the possibility of gathering and recalling bits and pieces from the complicated puzzle of the last five years of his life. In the first week especially, was when Veronica was indirectly told to keep her fingers crossed until they cramped, for that was when the memories would have the most clarity if they chose to revisit Niall. If not, they faded much like that of polaroid picture with wear, or one of the many vintage tee-shirts Niall had been having a recent infatuation with. At this thought, Veronica glanced at the one donning her top half, lips turned down.
“If you wish to go see him now, you can.” The doctor assents, nodding to the remainder of Niall’s family who stood awaiting her presence. She can barely muster the nod of her head, let alone the courage to move from her spot in the hall. Nearly all of Niall’s friends trudged out of the waiting room and gathered in Ubers to their respective houses after sending Niall’s family well wishes and glances of sympathy and guilt. Veronica could feel identical gazes burning into her now from Maura, Bobby, and Greg. And Jake, who decided to stay with Veronica for support as Niall’s family spoke with the doctor.
It took a few minutes of silence for the woman to compose her thoughts, or rather, build a fort out of them. No matter how hard Veronica tried, the “what if’s” could not stop piling up. Will he remember her the moment she walks through the door? Will he remember her ever? What if he never wants to remember her? Finally, practicality and a comforting hand on her shoulder broke her out of the catatonic stance she took when Jake’s voice flowed into her ear.
“You don't have to see him if you don't want to.” Her eyes turned to lock with his.
“I know.” She says.
“I'll be right out here if you need me.” Veronica was not only thankful for the Irishman’s presence but also his incredible ability to sober up within minutes. She showed her gratitude through a wobbling smile, before taking small strides towards Maura, Bobby, and Greg.
“We think,” Maura looked at the two men on either side of her, before facing her frame back to Veronica, “it’d be best for you to go in alone. Just to see him, try to talk to him. Less overwhelming for the boy, ya know?” She nodded but felt her heart quicken at the thought. She was apprehensive to face the man—who could very well see her as a stranger, now—alone. But Jake’s voice kept playing those words in her head like a melody. Complemented by the three pairs of pools, supporting the girl’s every action, it would feel against her nature to not go forward and place her hand on the steel knob. And Veronica did just that, opening the door and sliding her frame inside to see Niall.
“Thank God, mum, will you tell me what—” His blue eyes dart from the television across the room, which he had just muted, to her. Veronica half-expected the heart rate monitor still attached to Niall to quicken or stop for a moment, like he always claimed it did each time his eyes caught sight of her. Seeing her boyfriend unscathed and as handsome as always, she knows hers did. Niall’s however, from what the rhythmic beeps were reporting, remained unchanged.
“Hi.” Niall’s tone fell flat as he sat puzzled for a moment. Veronica shifted on her feet and cleared her throat as she pushed her body closer to his bed.
“Hey.”
“Do I know you?” The man’s brows furrowed, cueing Veronica’s eyes to swell and flood with faith. In terms of believing in anything, deity, or corporeal, she needed faith that Niall recognized her even slightly. She nodded her head furiously, letting out a breath amidst her answer.
“Yes.” He bit his lip, squinting his eyes and bringing a hand up to scratch the hair tousled on the side of his head.
“Where do I know you from…” he murmurs, licking his lips in thought. Veronica wished the action was in an entirely different location and circumstance, but she took what she could get for now.
“Ah!” Niall snapped his fingers, and Veronica stilled in her spot. “We met at the airport in Chicago!” His pointed finger and confident expression blurred as a watery shield came over Veronica’s eyes. “Oh, love, don’t cry! It’s nice to see you again…but how did you get in my room?” His curiosity began peaking, as well as his heart rate. Veronica thought nothing could have been worse than Niall mistaking her for a fan, but she was proved wrong as the beeps in the room quickened. Niall sat adorning only a gown, injured and vulnerable in front of his girlfriend he had no idea existed. He was becoming afraid quickly of the woman in the room.
“Uh, I’m-I’m not…”
“You’re not a fan? Shit, my bad. You a friend of Greg’s? He’s always trying to set me up. Guess timing doesn’t matter much to the lad.” Niall grumbled, crossing his arms. Though his next gander was closer to Veronica’s relation to him, it still was not enough for her.
“I’m just a…family friend.” If Niall thought of her as a stranger and was fearing her presence, she found it difficult to imagine his reaction to her revealing she was his girlfriend of four years. “Veronica,” she stuck a hand out, despite the building urge to fling herself onto the man. He slapped his palm against hers, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a slow shake. Their hands usually fit so familiarly with one another, especially when Niall would interlock their fingers and press a sweet kiss against the back of her hand. But the way his clammy hand took hold of hers and the awkward jostle between them as Veronica’s hand tried to keep its trembling at bay felt all too wrong. Like it was their first time meeting, and they were strangers to each other.
“Nice to meet ya,” Niall hummed, eyes darting up as he put a hand against his forehead. “Why does that sound so weird to say,” he sighs in his questioning, before turning back. “Sorry.”
“No, that’s alright. You’ve had a rough night.” The woman nods in understanding.
“Yeah,” Niall scoffs, “tell me about it. Twelve Pubs o’ Christmas…whichever wanker of me mates thought this’d be fun is getting slapped silly tomorrow.” He shook his head. Veronica nearly forgot their first Christmas over facetime, and how Niall explained it was the second annual celebration of the ludicrous excuse to drink. “Yeah, that game ain’t making it to next year,” he sighs.
“Um, I don’t want t’ be rude, but do ya mind if I spoke to the family in private for a little?” Veronica’s heart cracked, but her head shook in approval.
“Course not. Nice seeing you again,” she sent a wave in his direction, pivoting her body to exit the room. But it stilled before her hand could make contact with the door handle once more.
“Again?” Niall wondered aloud.
“Yes.” She states, turning to face the puzzled man again. “You could say we’ve…run into each other before.” Niall only shook his head slowly. Before any further interrogation could be delivered, Veronica took the silence as an opportunity to slip out of the room. All at once, the three pairs of blue were staring her down expectantly.
“Um,” she gulped, finding it hard to even break the news to herself as she spoke it aloud, “I’m just a family friend, for now. But he wants to see you guys.” She whispers brokenly and bites her lip to prevent the bulging lump in her throat to burst into a wailing sob.
“Honey…” Maura begins, only earning a shake of Veronica’s head as a reply.
“I’m fine. It’s fine.”
“Okay…the doctor’s given us a bag of Niall’s belongings. It’s with Jake in the waiting room right now, we figured you’d want to keep them close by you. The doctor just said it was his clothes, wallet, basic stuff.” She nods her head and shamefully treks back into the plastic seat in the cleared waiting room, save for Jake and a gallon Ziploc in the chair beside him. The woman rushes to it immediately when her eyes catch sight of a familiar colored article of clothing inside. She nearly rips the bag open to fish out Niall’s jacket and bring it to her nostrils to inhale the familiar lingering scent of his cologne and booze. Her eyes clenched shut as she whimpers into the cloth. Jake’s eyes move from the jacket the girl had invested her senses in and down to the bag, scanning the other items. The folded black tee-shirt and wallet barely caught his attention, though, and he felt his gaze harden on the sparkling engagement ring sized to fit Veronica’s fourth finger like a glove.
When he looks up, she is frantically shedding his denim jacket off of her body in exchange for Niall’s vanilla, cotton hoodie. She sighs contentedly as it embraces her, and Jake’s jaw clenches at the sight of her discarding his jacket to the chair beside the one holding Niall’s items. Still entranced by Niall’s smell and her unstoppable line of tears, she pays no mind to Jake’s hand slowly entering the open lips of the bag, pinching the band securely between his fingers and pocketing it.
remember to leave feedback and let me know if you are interested in a continuation <3 :)
#nh#njh#nialljameshoran#niallhoran#niall horan#niall james horan#niall horan fanfic#niall horan fanfiction#niall horan imagine#niall horan imagines#niall horan blurb#niall horan oneshot#niall horan story#niall horan fluff#niall horan smut#niall horan angst#niall horan x ofc#niall horan gif#niall horan sad#niall horan au#onedirection#one direction#one direction fanfic#one direction fanfiction#one direction imagine#one direction imagines#one direction blurb#one direction oneshot#one direction story#one direction x ofc
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Shaura + early morning
tell max i’m sorry...
The sun filters into the room the same way it does every morning: slowly. It starts at the bottom of the blinds, tiny rays breaking through the slats before the golden light melts inward and upward, filling the space.
Maura has grown used to the patterns of early mornings. She’s memorized the look of sunshine on her old wooden floor, knows how long she can lay in bed before she makes herself late, recognizes the persistent thrum of the woodpecker that lives in the tallest tree behind her house. It’s an amalgamation of sights and sounds that she’s labelled home from the moment she first arrived in Jackson. It’s familiar.
Then bed dips behind her suddenly, and for a half-second, Maura is confused. It’s a movement that’s not part of her catalogue — it’s not a part of her pattern.
She almost startles when the arm curls around her, warm and heavy and somehow comforting all in one.
“Why you got the damn blinds open?”
Shane’s voice is rough and scratchy near her ear. There’s a strange vulnerability to it, one that kickstarts the hurricane of conflicting emotion that lives in Maura’s mind.
He stayed. All night.
He’s never done that before.
“Sun tells me when to wake up,” she says, barely a whisper in the early morning quiet. “All-natural alarm clock.”
The arm around Maura’s middle tightens, pulls her closer, and goosebumps prickle down her arms at the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She mulls over her next words carefully before she lets them tumble from her mouth.
“You’re never here in the mornings anyway. Otherwise I would’ve kept them closed.”
Part of her expects him to react poorly. Another part expects him to ignore her altogether, pretend she hasn’t spoken. Maura’s an observer by nature, has learned to watch people to learn who and what they are, but Shane — he’s an enigma. She doesn’t get him. She’s not sure she ever will.
As usual, he defies her expectations. Maura feels his lips touch the back of her neck and a quiet, accompanying sigh.
“Here now, ain’t I?”
Maura blinks. A beam of sun streams through the room, a hurricane of dust dancing in the middle.
Tentatively, she brings her hand up and covers the one Shane’s placed on her belly.
“Yeah. You are.”
#maura foster#shane tyler#my ocs#friends ocs#maura/shane#tlou#the last of us#the last of us oc#tlou oc#my writing
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