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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

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Remoras Full Chapter XXII: Wendy City

As I sat outside with a few friends at the break of dawn, my mind kept returning to just last night. That scene couldn’t be shaken away and while those folks conversed with pudding cups and oranges in hand, I mulled over that lady’s words.

“Rhea? Is that you?” She asked.

“Rheain’t,” I should’ve replied with. Rather than such a statement as, “now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years.” God damn, could I have been any more ambiguous? Sure, it made sense to me at the time, but I probably gave my would-be bounty hunter the wrong impression.

Now that I thought of it, we were similar in stature and I suppose (although it was a bit of a stretch) that in the dark, my purple hair could have been mistaken for her blue. Still...the implications of being mistaken for such a person left me just a little unsettled.

Pensive, I fixed my gaze on the space between the four of us, then allowed a smile to form.

“Last night I ran into someone who mistook me for an old co-worker of mine,” I announced to the group.

My arms were crossed and I glanced around now and took note of the food in each person’s hand; Otis, with his thick red mittens which held a queen sized candy bar. Gloria, frail and heavy in perfume (who knows how she got hold of such a thing) shook her hands as she spooned pudding into her mouth. Bernard, whose brown and balding hair matched his brown leather clothing, all full of holes. He held an orange in his hand. All the while, my stomach growled.

“You had a job?” Bernard grunted in disbelief.

“Yes, I had a job. Why is that so hard to believe?” I protested. “In fact, it was a little over a couple years ago that I was laid off. Well, all of us were laid off. The company is no more. Just like that office building beside us. Whatever occupied it once doesn’t occupy it now.”

In some respects, good riddance. In others, good grief.

“What kind of job was it?” Gloria, now interested, set down her pudding cup and asked. Bless her frail heart.

Now what can I tell them to make it palatable?

“We were housekeepers, of sorts,” was the answer I came up with.

“What, like you cleaned houses?” Bernard again.

I put my elbow over my knee, palm on my forehead, and shook my head.

“We cleaned...messes. Going from place to place, each of us with our little jobs. Some of us were really good at getting rid of things, while others, it was more about tidying up or moving things around. Brooms, mops, sprays, vacuums, feather dusters. You name it. Everyone had their specialty.”

In truth, our organization never had a name. Those who knew of us outside of the organization would call us ‘janitors’. Then again, some of us did as well. That, or something like it. Custodians, waste disposal, cleaners, plumbers, renovators, whatever. To think that it all stemmed from a joke we all passed around about how we ‘cleaned up after others’ messes’. Then again, how many messes did we clean up and how many did we make?

“You know, back in the day there used to be a term for mafia hitmen. ‘Guy who paints houses’. Were you something like that?” Otis at last gave some input, and I wondered where he heard that bit of trivia. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

“No, nothing like that,” I chuckled. “Get that idea out of your head.”

Because it’s too close to the truth for comfort.

“Anyway, about this old co-worker of mine…” I began, but I was no storyteller; I could spend the rest of my bloody life reminiscing, but that didn’t mean I could give a recollection worth a damn. Yet I tried. Important or not, the need to tell these strangers I’ve shared light meals with tugged at me. “What you have to understand is that many of us shared a bond together. Despite the fact we’d always have our jobs at different places from one another and although sometimes we’d be asked to work as a group or paired together, more often than not, we were off doing our own thing. But we still got together, whether it be at taverns, or the…” headquarters. “Office.”

I paused. Not for effect. Not for feedback. But for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure what name to give this mystery co-worker.

“So if you think of us like a grade school classroom, this co-worker, let’s call her Rhonda. Rhonda…Civic. Yeah, that works. Anyway, Rhonda would’ve been the quiet kid in the back. She kept to herself, didn’t really interact with anyone, and had a few quirks. Some odd ways of speaking. Feeling. Others picked up on it, and of course, like a grade school, she’d get teased. Others would talk about her behind her back,” kinda what I’m doing now, except how else am I supposed to talk about someone who’s no longer around?

“I’ve had situations like that,” Bernard grunted as he gave his input. “I used to operate a forklift for a pet food company. Me an’ the boys would shoot the shit when the manager wasn’t watchin’. Most of us, ‘nyway. There was this youngish guy, flannel shirt and overalls. Same attire every day. Didn’t know how he got away wit’ it, but that’s what he wore. He moved bag after bag of dog food, but never once so much as said hi. Not a peep from the kid. We all thought it was weird. Anyway, he quit one day, we never found out why, and that was that. I didn’t even think much of him ‘til you mentioned somethin’.”

“Yeah, it was the same for me,” I replied, and I looked up at the clouds in the sky. “Funny that, I didn’t think much of her back when I worked for that company and now out of the blue someone mistook me for her and it was like, ‘oh yeah…’”

“What about you, Wendy? You’re always off on your own at night, going at it with your projects,” he countered.

“We all have our eccentricities,” I concurred. “I’m also not much for conversation, either, most of the time, but I still enjoy the company of others. If for nothing else than the spectacle.”

It was far too early in the morning, but how I wished to have a warm cup of tea or sake in my hands so I could take little sips as I spoke.

“I never thought anyone outside of the company ever knew her, be it an old friend or an old enemy,” I carried on, unsure if I had any conclusion to this or if it was just early morning rambling.

“What? You think she had enemies?” Otis spat and I could swear that bits of chocolate just flew right by me.

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. There wasn’t really anything I knew about her apart from I heard. Sure, I watched her a few times, but that didn’t tell me much. Whether she had friends or enemies, I could never tell. When I think back on it, I wish I did know. That I had tried to find out more. But it’s kind of that whole ‘you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone’ type of thing. Then again, here she is gone, and I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“Gone?” Gloria must have taken notice of my choice of words. For the record, I didn’t know what became of her. Not any more than I knew what became of the rest of the people I once associated with. Considering that I couldn’t go back to the headquarters (not that I had any desire to return), I had to assume they were all dead and that the place was no more. It made the most sense to me.

“Yeah. Terminated. It’s funny that way, how to them we were all replaceable and they had no problem exploiting us, but even that couldn’t save them.”

“Damn if I don’t know that,” Otis bemoaned. “I have a nephew, and my nephew has a friend who was working when a sign fell on him. Broke his leg. Next thing he knew, management fired him, worker’s comp didn’t cover for his injury, and when he tried to sue, the company’s lawyers blocked him. Then, I knew this other guy who did what he was supposed to. But he got paid scraps and the stress got to him, so one day he came to work all hopped up on coke and his boss fired him on the spot. All those days of doing what he was told and scraping by, and one day was all it took for it to come crashing down. He ended up killing himself some time after that,” after those last words came a sniffle. No tears, though. Maybe it was a runny nose.

I shook my head. Sympathy and grief was a difficult thing to muster given the life I had; countless moments of killing and watching others die. Those I worked with, laughed and shared drinks with, gone at any moment. It wasn’t a case of ‘kill or be killed’, but it was a life defined by the death of others, all the same. So what I felt when Otis relayed his tales of people he knew, all I could feel was hatred and disgust. If I knew their bosses, I would have killed them on the spot.

“You okay, Wendy?” Otis’ voice of concern broke through my thoughts. How I must have stared with that same pensive look I often did when lost in thought.

“It’s just not right, though, is it?” I glanced from person to person as I asked, my question rhetorical in nature. They all shook their heads and murmured, “no” or “not at all”.

Then Bernard waved his hand away and grumbled.

“Bah! Right, wrong, who gives a damn? I’m still alive,” he retorted, then turned to his back and laid himself down over sheets of newspaper.

That was a point I was willing to consider. To some, there was a profound difference between ‘alive’ and ‘survive’, but really, he was no less alive than someone with the privilege of a roof over their head and a bed to sleep in. Food in the pantry and some form of stability. Such things were all an illusion, anyway. People get busy, food goes bad. Bills pile up, costs increase, wage stays the same. To compensate, work extra hours, sleep less. Everything comes at a price few can afford and the compromises are seldom in one’s favor. Locked into a system in which the average person is always just on the verge of homelessness, yet the state of being homeless itself was punished.

Once I had asked Bernard, “if you were given a home, would you take it?” Based on that premise some other minds had, that people such as Bernard only lived that way because they wanted to. That it’s ‘on them’ or whatever. His response? Something like, “show me something that won’t be taken from me, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

That may have sounded like, “I’m here because I want to,” but at least to me, the difference couldn’t have been any more clear.

But enough rants. I stretched my arms out and yawned, then smiled a cheeky grin.

“Well, you know what they say, duty calls,” I announced as I got up. “Time for me to go digging for cash and get myself a bite to eat.”

That was how I went about most of my day: I’d get up, chat with a few folks around the docks, walk around the city ‘til I got a bit of cash, spend it on deep dish pizza and cheap beer (the staple of Chicago), then head back to the docks, bathe in the lake water, and resume my work in the office building. One of those days I’d have working lights, and then I could get to work on giving those folks a more comfortable place to sleep at night. Something like a home. Although it was unfortunate to think that in the eyes of the law, they’d still be considered homeless. Even the most idealistic of endeavors could result in a losing battle.

Whatever actions I might have to take in the future, I focused on the agenda for the day. It was during the day in which I was neither a rumor nor a killer. Daylight meant that I was just a person. Hell, at times a superhero; case in point, an old lady gave me a few bucks after I got her cat out of a tree (yes, as cliché as it was, such a thing happened quite often). Soon after that, I headed down to Cosmo Corner (a popular downtown tavern).

It was about noon now and my favorite bartender would be in soon: Wanda. Nice young lady, all covered in tattoos. At least a dozen on each arm, when I first met her I thought she was part of a crime ring or in a street gang, but nah. Apparently on the side, she liked to paint in her studio, but that was as hardcore as she got. Oh, well, being a bartender could be hardcore too. Not everyone can handle being a bartender.

Right now it was Stickbug (no, I don’t know why he was called that, but everyone called him that. Maybe that’s just his name). Fitness guru with a pencil thin mustache who was disastrous at mixing drinks. But amiable, I’d give him that. None of the conversations he’d strike up were ever ones I was interested in having, but he didn’t have a mean word to say about anyone. Maybe that was the problem: you had to have boundaries. You couldn’t show everyone the same level of sympathy.

“Say Wendy, have you heard of the fall of Constantinople?” Stickbug asked whilst he flung glass after glass in the air and began juggling them. Upon a quick glance, I noticed that there weren’t many people at the moment. Fine enough. I guess no one would give him dirty looks. As for me, I let my head fall onto the counter, the effects of my lack of sleep setting in.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied.

“D’ya wanna hear about it?” He continued to ask, and I already knew how insistent he could be with his topics.

“No,” I told him, to no avail.

“Okay, so we’ve got this city named Istanbul and…” he began, but it didn’t take long for my thoughts to drown out anything else he said.

Why couldn’t I have come in just a little bit later? No, it’s not bad. I could learn things if I listen, I’m just not in the mood to do so. I just want to eat and drink and...oh. Oh my. This must be what Rhea had to deal with all the time...wanting to order food, but never wanting to socialize. Not to mention how anxious she seemed to be in any situation that didn’t have to do with violence. Girl could kick ass but had trouble ordering a sandwich at a sub shop. Not to mention the general bodily discomfort she apparently dealt with.

‘I, and I cannot stressed this enough, am stressed’ I imagine she must have said at one point or another. Seemed to fit, anyway. That, or ‘I, and I cannot stress this enough, need a sweater’ or a blanket. Ugh. Why am I thinking of some weirdo who had such a minuscule presence in my life? Could it have to do with that woman last night? Yeah, probably. Well, a name’s a name. It could have been anyone named ‘Rhea’. Hell, the one I’m thinking of used a different name for each person she met, so I doubt anyone would know her by that name. Probably something else instead, like Sharpay D. Em.

Anyway, I ought to be thinking of more important things. Like the fact that the woman last night wanted to kill me. First of all, couldn’t she have waited? I was busy and I don’t really like being interrupted from my work. All I’m asking for is some fair warning and furthermore –

“...And that is why if you suspect you have a mouse in your home, you should leave a piece of cheese on the floor overnight,” Stickbug seemed to have concluded his little history lesson, except I must have missed many steps, because I wasn’t really sure how we got there.

“Wait, what?” I lifted my head and asked with a dull expression planted on my face.

“Want me to start all over?” He beamed, and I’m sure he could have talked all day and night if someone let him.

“How about later? Isn’t your shift over soon?” I reminded him with a slight sense of pride.

“Oh yeah! You’re right! So glad I got someone to remind me! Otherwise I’d be here all day!”

And nobody wants that. Hell, I don’t even think you’d want that.

“Before you go, I may as well order, seeing as I haven’t done that yet.”

“Oh no!” He gasped. “I hope you haven’t been hungry!”

Funny to think that his concern is real and not sarcasm.

“In fact, I am hungry right now,” I corrected him. “By the way, I’ll get my usual: pepperoni and spinach, large.”

“Right on!” I handed him the cash I had gotten from that old lady earlier. I still had some left over for sake, but I wanted to wait until Wanda got in.

I wonder what kind of food that woman from last night likes to eat. I feel like she’d eat chicken legs and large chunks of steaks. Just, a lot of steak. You know, why am I wondering such a thing? I’ve got better things to think about.

About five minutes later and a glass of water downed, Stickbug waved goodbye. In his place came Wanda with a bandanna over her head and covered in sweat which ran down her face.

“Intense painting session?” I asked.

She wiped her forehead and huffed.

“You know it. Were you waiting for me?”

“Heh,” I flashed her a smile. “It’s just not the same with Stickbug.” Really, how did that name come about? I think he said his name was Steven once, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.

“Is that so?” She asked, then went to the back to put her stuff away and get settled in. About the same time she came back out, the pizza arrived as well.

I took a heaping slice as layer upon layer of cheese and bits of spinach fell off of the pizza and back down onto the plate, unable to sustain itself on the thick cake of dough. Upon taking a large bite, my mouth was filled with the warm and gooey taste along with the combination of squishy spinach and savory pepperoni. One strong gulp later, and I was ready to take a drink. Next to me was my cup of sake, and when I looked up, Wanda winked.

“By the way, someone came in last night asking about any abandoned buildings,” Wanda mentioned as I sipped my cup of sake.

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, which came out more like a “mm-hmm.”

“Yeah. I just told her about the office building you’ve been hanging out in.”

I spat out my drink. Some might have gotten on her apron, but that was her problem, not mine.

“What did you do that for?! I don’t want people coming in and interrupting me while I’m working!”

Then I thought it over.

“Say, what did she look like?”

She put her finger on her chin and looked up.

“Hmm...big and muscular, brown poofy hair.”

Ugh. Yeah.

“Oh yeah. She came by and visited. Tried to kill me,” I replied, almost nonchalant about the whole ordeal, despite how much it had been on my mind.

“What? Are you serious?” She balked.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

“Yeah, but she wasn’t hard to deal with or anything.”

My main concern was why she was there at all. It’s not that I never expected anyone to come after me, especially when I all but deserted my job. But when no one came, I just expected that I was free and I could live out my life as I pleased.

“Jeez, did you kill her?” She accused. Rather baseless, too.

“No,” I scoffed. “I just sent her back home. Don’t know why she went after me, either.”

“Look, Wendy, I know you’ve killed people. Can’t really say I didn’t see something like this coming.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong: I get why, I just don’t get why, y’know?”

She shook her head.

“It’s like, she said there was a request for my death. She didn’t even know who I was, she mistook me for someone else. What I don’t get is why, rather, how such a request came about. Like, someone knows about me, but is sending people who don’t know about me to do the job.”

“Well, do you know what the request says?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then maybe whoever made it didn’t know who you were either, but noticed some things around the area.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It was all too possible I was overthinking things. But when it came to things like that, a fair deal of suspicion was necessary. “Whatever the case, if such a request like that is out there, then I doubt the person last night will be the only one.

“It’s kind of an open secret among the circle you talk to that you’re the one behind the murder of those cops. I don’t blame you, plenty of people around here don’t like the police and I really do wish you well, but most people don’t have the privilege to do what you do. Most people don’t have the ability to murder those they see as committing an injustice. Not only that, but most people don’t have confidantes that would be willing to keep their secret. You know why?”

Great. Just what I wanted while I was at the bar with some good food and drinks: a lecture.

“If you’re going to tell me because it’s illegal, I’m going to argue that it’s only illegal if you don’t have a badge and a uniform. Most serial killers are the ones who are hired by the state and demand your respect.”

Her face lowered and she turned from me.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not saying I disagree, just that the average person isn’t capable of doing such things, even if they wanted to. Even if they ignored the legality, it doesn’t matter. Just as you said, you’ve got got hordes willing to kill whoever they see fit without consequence, decked in highly-militarized outfits and weapons. Their numbers are too great, their power is too great, and if you even show the least bit resistance, they’ll throw in the rest of the military alongside them. So the best most of us can ask for is to avoid them as much as possible. But here you go, picking off anyone who rubs you the wrong way and not only do you manage to sneak on by and keep going, but it’s like you boast about it, too.”

“I don’t boast – I never said I enjoy it.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, sorry.”

“But you’re right: I am very fortunate. In the past, I’ve evaded my demise and have slaughtered entire armies that wished to pursue me. I’m not saying that to boast, though it is quite a feat, I admit. I’ve had a long life, a storied and bloody past, and I really wish I could stay out of trouble, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Old habits, I guess.”

“You’re not that old, are you? You don’t look much over thirty.”

I managed a chuckle.

“Would you believe me if I said I was well over five hundred years old?”

“Quit joking around.”

It’s not exactly wrong. I was born sometime early in the Sengoku period, but time travel sure does let you skip ahead a few years. There’s no way I could explain something like that, though.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a good skincare routine.”

That time, I was joking. There’s no way in hell that bathing in Lake Michigan would preserve your youth.

“Either way, I’m used to not sticking around places for very long. If things get too hot, I’ll leave town. So don’t worry about me,” I assured Wanda.

“I’d like it if it wouldn’t have to come to that,” she replied. “You’re a good customer, and make for good conversation.”

Well, I couldn’t say I wasn’t flattered, but hopefully she wouldn’t hold it against me if I did decide to ditch this place, reside elsewhere and try to lay low. Eventually I would have liked to settle down and be an old lady. Maybe knit sweaters in my spare time, or get a dog and a garden. Become the friendly old lady in the neighborhood that no one knows anything about.

None of that was likely. People like me weren’t meant to last long. As far as age went, I was already pushing it and as far as I knew, I really wasn’t much over thirty. It was just hard to tell where in my thirties, since my concept of time has been all screwed up.

I left the bar soon after. Despite my enjoyment of Wanda’s presence, my head just wasn’t as much in it as I thought it would be. So, still middle of the day, I returned to the docks, ready to get back to work.

I still don’t have the solution. Not enough power. Every time I think I’ve got a spark, it only lights one area. What I need is a lightning rod. Maybe I could stand one of my swords up to the roof to collect electricity. Or antennae. No. That still wouldn’t be enough, not without the right circuitry and places to send the electricity to. There’s more than one component and I can’t just do one without the other. If I’m lucky, there might be some generators downstairs I haven’t discovered. But even if I have to steal or build power generators, I want to give these places a semblance of a home. Some place to rest.

But even if I’m successful, it still wouldn’t be legal for them to reside there. What would I do, then? Fight off a whole force? Or would I run with the knowledge that I would be outnumbered? When I consider the eventual outcome, it was a futile effort and good intentions will only get me so far.

I shook my head as I entered the darkened building through an opening with a loose board. If that woman had been more attentive, she would have seen that not all of those boards were as well covered, and one of them actually served as a door.

Inside, an absence of light. I reached to my right and grabbed my helmet and katana which lay on top of a tall cabinet.

Upon placing the helmet on my head, I had a much clearer view of my surroundings. The infrared visor on my helmet allowed me to see in the dark, albeit some objects showed up blurry.

Outside, it was still light. Dusk wasn’t expected for another few hours. In other words, I had time. I could do my work in peace, take a little nap, not worry about anything. If no one was going to come after me until well after dark, then I could prepare.

So I did just that; I patrolled the area, climbed up each floor, checked out each room, then headed back down to the first floor. All around the first floor I searched for a hatch or a door, a flight of stairs, something that would lead to a basement. No such luck. It seemed that there were no passages, hidden or otherwise. No basement. No generators.

Maybe that’s what I’ll have to resort to. I’ll have to dig out a basement, fill it with concrete, get some generators built or setup...argh! Why is it so hard to get this going? I should just tell everyone, “sorry guys, I know I hate to make false promises, but looks like I just set my sights too high!”

I sunk down to the floor along a wall, right next to a door which would have led to someone’s office.

“Who am I kidding? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t leave before I get the chance to figure this out.”

I leaned my head over and soon felt the weight of the darkness creep up on me as it guided me to a gentle sleep.

When I awoke, I brought myself up to my feet and decided to climb up the many flight of stairs once more.

If I’m lucky, I’d like to at least get the elevator working. Something.

Short rests were all that were ever afforded to me. If I had gotten three hours or more, that was oversleep for me. With the way my body operated, perhaps adapted, I never worried myself with dreams. On the rare occasion where I had a dream, they were brief windows, photographs, still frames cascading down. Images of being beheaded. Of watching my head roll down into a river. Typical things like that. Such things weren’t memories, but just reminders of what should have been long ago.

Never mind. Several flights later, I saw the bits of collapsed roof on the floor. Above, the glow of the moon illuminated the floor. It was the only source of light I was afforded, save for the helmet.

So I see. It’s evening now.

“Damn, couldn’t she have found a different way in other than breaking down the roof? Now I’m going to have to repair that as well…”

If another came after me, I really hoped they wouldn’t drop down from the roof. That would make things too easy for me.

I’m going to consider that it’s still too early for something like that. Not that I have a watch or a phone, but I doubt it’s been night for very long. I just can’t imagine anyone attacking me until late into the night. Any time earlier and it would just be rude.

Just like the night before, I went down to where the top of the elevator was, along with the open panel in the wall. If I had to start somewhere, I figured I’d get done what I could. That was, if I could get anything done at all.

So as I crouched down and got to work, my helmet lifted as I did so. I struck a match and held it between my lips as I worked, plucking it out every now and then to help bind the wires together. There were two wires left with just a little bit of juice. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, then held the two wires together and rubbed them; as soon as there was a spark, I used the flame from the match to bind them together. Behind me, a couple rooms away, a light turned on.

Now let’s hope it stays on. Which reminds me: I need to get new light bulbs.

One day, if I ever got (or built) a generator and a basement to place it in, I would test the breaker board. It would be a beautiful sight if one day the whole building could light up. Even as it was, the light from the room remained and leaked out. I was impressed to see that it had stayed on.

Now if I flick the switch off, then on again, will it turn back on?

As I turned to work on the elevator, I was stopped in my place when I heard a thump in the distance. It could have been nothing. Those pipes were old, after all. The vents too.

But even if it was nothing, I had to check it out.

Down one flight of stairs, the sound of movement and creaks against the vents could be heard.

Could it be that I’ve got a guest?

That same sound continued in little spurts. Less noise, but still there. Unavoidable. I could tell, there was movement of some kind. Rat, pebble, raccoon, or a person. Further down the hallway, the sound grew closer, more pronounced. Little shimmies and brushes. Metallic clangs.

I stood in place as the sound seemed to be just above my head. I took off my helmet. No need for it.

“I know you’re up there,” I announced.

Silence. No more movement. Nothing.

Seconds went by. Still nothing.

Stillness passed through the air, and so I had no choice but to accept that I may have just been hearing the old building making noises.

I let out a heavy sigh. Defeat. So soon, too.

“Guess I was just hearing things. I’ll head back now.”

Still no sound of movement. How disappointing. I unsheathed my sword and flashed a toothy smile.

“...Just kidding,” I said before I plunged my katana into the vent and sliced the thing in half.

If there had been a person, or just a rat, surely they felt that.

As I did so, the noise of steel against steel, the grating being slashed apart couldn’t mask the undeniable sound of movement heading backward.

I held my katana up and dragged it against the ceiling as I walked toward the sound of someone retreating from within the vents.

Around the corner, I heard a drop, and the hard tap of a shoe against the floor.

So it was a person. And I missed. I really must be losing my touch.

As I approached, someone small and frail looking peeked out from the corner and threw a knife my way. I caught it between my fingertips and just as fast, threw it back. In a panic, the intruder let out a squeak and ducked back behind the corner, then picked up their knife and ran.

“Were you thinking you could kill me with that? Or were you planning on me blocking it, then running toward me with another knife, the thrown knife being a distraction?” My smile grew wider, almost a grin. It didn’t take much to know their strategy; too many times I’ve dealt with similar tactics. Smart, but amateurish.

Does this person really think they stand more of a chance than the person last night? Or are they just expecting to run around like this is some endurance test?

I wasn’t about to let them experience such a luxury. I ran after and watched as they almost got behind the door to an adjacent room, but before they could do so, I grabbed their wrist and held on tight. Once I pulled them forward, closer to me, it turned out the intruder was a young woman with wavy, green hair.

With my other hand, I raised my knife and readied myself to slice down against her arm.

She scowled, then with her free arm reached for my wrist to free herself. Before she could puncture me, I swung my blade down, at the same time let go of her wrist. Just in time, she jumped out of the way. I turned to make a quick slash, but she blocked it with her knife. Such a measly thing. All I had to do was push harder and it began to show little cracks.

She let go and jumped out of the way again.

“Nimble one, aren’t you?” I observed. Then she charged, but I moved out of the way. She tried to slash with her knife from the side, but I blocked it with my blade, then let go and kicked her to the floor.

Short on breath, she picked herself up. So far all of her efforts, while quick-witted, had been feeble at best.

“Let me ask you this: why do you want to kill me? Is there money involved?”

“I...I don’t want to kill you. That’s...that’s not why I came here,” she spoke, her voice rough, but high in pitch and she fixed her gaze on me as she tried to recover her breath.

“Then why?”

“I want to know who you are,” she answered.

That was such a ridiculous answer. But at least it was some kind of answer.

“I’m a serial killer,” I replied through my teeth. “I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. Sliced open, stabbed through the chest. Cut to ribbons. Does that answer your question?”

Her face turned to shock and she took a step back, but shook her head.

“No, I already knew that much from the request.”

“That again. The request to kill me, correct?”

She gave a nod.

“But I would rather not have to try. Not if you’re anything like who Sunny thought you were.”

“Sunny?”

“The one who tried to kill you last night and got herself beat real good. She thought you were –” I stopped her.

“Rhea?” I asked.

Another nod.

“What was so special about that name? There’s probably plenty of people in this city with that name.”

“Yes. And I looked up every single person with that name in Chicago. There were a lot more names than I thought, and not all of them were happy about receiving a phone call from a stranger.”

…

“Are you a dunce? Did you really?”

“Yes.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of someone actually doing that. I sunk down to the wall and sat.

“Sit,” I commanded. “And if you try anything funny, I will kill you.”

Wordless, she crouched down and sat against the wall across from me.

“So what does that name mean to you?” I questioned.

“Nothing. But it means plenty to a few of the people around me. Rhea Flection, they call her. Apparently she was both feared and admired. Some people want her dead, or revenge on her, others just seem to wish they could see her in action. My cousin and her wife were apparently one of her targets. Someone I admire apparently worked in the same company as her. Says that she died. Yet all these other people keep bringing her up.”

Damn. That name. So it really was the same one that I knew.

“Heh,” I leaned my head back. Absurd as it was, I not only stopped the fight, but also let my guard down. “I wonder if I’ll have my own fan club as well when I die.”

“I take it to mean that you’re not her?” She asked, something which I would have thought was obvious.

“You mean that socially awkward iceberg? No. I’m not her.”

“Iceberg?” She tilted her head, which made me wonder just how much she actually knew.

“You’d have to have been there.”

“So I take it you knew her?”

“Yes. We worked in the same company. But that’s ancient history. For the record, I’m Wendy Day. You?”

“Demetria. What kind of name is that, by the way?”

“I picked it out because I wanted an English sounding name, and it sounds like ‘windy day’. Not very clever, I know. I used to be called Mizue Soyokaze, but I threw that name away long ago, along with the rest of my younger self.”

“Cool. Lore. Can I sit next to you?” She asked, rather sudden, too.

“Go ahead. But I’ll remind you not to get any ideas.”

She got up and as she approached me, she looked away, ashamed or uneasy.

“I probably should have tried to kill you, seeing as I don’t want you to go around killing people, but I was more focused on getting some kind of answers,” she said as she sat down. Then turned away from me. I took it to mean she was shy.

“You don’t want me to go around killing people?” I scoffed. “I don’t want me to go around killing people. I’ve tried to put this life behind me, not get myself into trouble, but then I see others do things that I just can’t abide by.”

“Like what?” She asked, and her voice quivered. If only I had dragged out the battle, maybe she would have shown more bravery.

“Sexual abusers, for starters, but that should be obvious. Then there’s people like landlords and debt collectors who couldn’t care less if they let others die in the name of money. Greedy fucks all around. Still, I can’t catch everyone out there, only the ones that I see. Even then, I try not to let my blood boil, not let it get to me. I try to sit by, abide by the law, but then I witness a child running around with a toy gun with his best friend playing some kind of game, like cops and robbers. Then an actual cop comes and shoots the kid dead, a cruel irony. Said cop walks off, no remorse or recourse, all the while that kid just wanted to play and now their life ended. That I can’t abide by.”

“Wow,” she mouthed.

“But, in case you start thinking I’m some savior, acting only in the name of justice, let me remind you that I’m a murderer and violence is what I know. If anything, I find excuses to take lives, not unlike some of the people I so despise. It’s not even so much a craving or an addiction, but I don’t think this world will ever grow kind, and neither will I.”

“But why did you ever start?”

“Because,” I began. I had to pause, and I thought to myself, wait. Am I really going to go through my life story with a stranger I assumed wanted to kill me? Fuck it. I’m doing this. “I’m all too familiar with authority abusing their power. Back in my old life, when I was young and still had a family, there was a high ranking member of society who was found dead, a puncture wound through their chest. I was blamed for it, an unassuming girl who stayed home all the time and helped out with her family. But once I was accused, that same family disowned me, regardless of whether or not I had actually committed such a thing.”

“Did you?”

“No. But that didn’t matter, I was just a commoner, so my word didn’t mean much, and there was less proof that I didn’t than proof that I did, even if either way was inconclusive. Regardless, I was set to be executed; beheaded, actually. Two men with swords beside me, one in front. All against my throat. However, I managed to fight back and steal the two men’s swords, then cut them all down. After that, I hid out in an abandoned shack. Later on, I found out who the real killer had been and killed him myself. After, I fled. That didn’t stop me from being pursued, but I cut anyone down who dared to try.”

“That’s kinda badass,” she commented. I had to stop her right there.

“No, just bad. My life should have ended that day, as the person I am now was the person I was once accused of being. But no matter how many close calls I’ve had, I’m still here, like some kind of cockroach.”

“And your company?” She asked, and I knew where her real focus was.

“They picked me up a few years back, though in my mind it was centuries ago. They told me that they could offer me protection, be paid to take out those who would abuse their authority. By then, I knew it was only a matter of time, with whole armadas after me. So I accepted.”

“I see.”

“Do you know what we did in that company?” I pondered.

“I get the gist of it. It’s unpleasant, but I can’t just fault everyone when I don’t know them.”

“Huh. Interesting answer.”

I stared down at my blade, then sheathed it. It had been a while, but not unheard of, since I just...sat next to a would-be victim and heard them out. I kind of missed it, as often when it did happen, I would end up sparing said person and coming to a better understanding of them.

“Say, back when you worked there, did you know of someone named Remora?” She asked again.

Remora...Remora...does that ring any bells? No, I don’t think it does.

“No, sorry,” I replied.

“Uh...shivers a lot, always cold, doesn’t understand people well. Looks kind of like you, except not really. I mean, your guys’ faces and hair is totally different.”

“Oh, you mean Rhea,” I corrected, as there was no other person I could think of who was like that.

“No, no. Her name’s Remora. She says she knew of Rhea, but was never in the same place as her.”

Hmm...that was a curious thing, all right.

“Sorry, but I don’t think there was anyone named Remora, but you definitely described Rhea. One time, we were all at the bar, and she ordered a screwdriver. So I watched as she sat alone at a table and she pulled out an actual screwdriver. I watched her lick the screw driver, make a disgusted face, then looked around to make sure no one saw her. But I saw everything.”

“Is there a difference in taste?” Demetria asked, and I really had to wonder how someone so dense could exist.

“That’s not the point. The point is that she may have been this serious person who wanted to be left alone, but she was also just a total oddball. Even her attempts to be serious could be odd sometimes. Like one time, she tried to do this verbal takedown on a guy named Douglas Fir by listing out all his negative traits in alphabetical order.”

“I don’t think I could do that, but then again sometimes I wonder if I’m dyslexic,” she replied. Again, not the point.

“Whatever the case may be, I didn’t really think of her that much at the time, other than a few notable occurrences, but looking back, I kinda miss her. Then again, I miss most everyone in that company. Save the really shitty ones, but that’s neither here nor there. I know we were all eccentric amoral people, but it was like a community to me, and it felt like the closest thing I had to a home at the time.”

Really, I could reminisce for days.

“There was this other woman, Aurora B, and I suppose her, Rhea, and I could’ve been a ‘dream team’ except if put in a group, one of us would have killed the other two rather fast, thus negating the need for a group. Aurora because she wouldn’t be able to get us all to cooperate, Rhea because she prefers to work alone and would probably use her teammates as bait, and I’d probably notice something about the both of them that wouldn’t sit right with me and decide they’re both scum. Still, the idea is fun.”

“Wait, Aurora B? There’s an Aurora B in the arctic! She’s got a train and a band of thieves! I stabbed her and she robbed the restaurant I worked at!”

I blinked, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! There’s a version of her in this timeline and I bet she’s still just as rowdy! Oh, that must be fun!”

“What? Version of? This timeline?” She seemed confused.

“Yeah, like, you know, time travel and all that. Multiple universes, multiple versions of the same person.” I was surprised she knew about the company and yet didn’t know about that.

“I never considered that…” she muttered, then got up. “I think I’ll take off now. Thank you for that.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, I’ll just say that you were too strong for me and leave it at that.”

“Well if that’s all you needed, you should’ve just come by in the daytime. We could’ve had a nice chat over pizza.”

She waved goodbye, as if I wasn’t some dangerous force of nature, and I continued to sit and shake my head.

“I must be getting soft. First I injured someone rather than killed them, then I let the second person just walk away unscathed, and we had a nice little chat. I’m betting the third person who comes by I’ll end up buying them a drink.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the insanity of it all. My howls and laughter echoed through the almost empty building.

Once I calmed myself down, I stared up at the ceiling. How I wished I could fix up the place. Now I had to fix up the vents as well. There was always one more problem.

“What about you?” I addressed my last guest of the evening. “Have you come to kill me or just to chat?”

In one of the nearby rooms, a door opened up. Soon a figure approached me, a long rifle in hand.

“I’ll be quick. I just wanted to confirm that you were who I thought you were,” replied a low, icy voice.

“What, did you stalk her? Were you listening in on the whole thing?” Whoever said guest was, I would have at least liked a knock or something.

“No to the first one. Yes to the second.”

Direct. I liked that, at least.

“So what about the gun? I take it you’re the only person so far who even stands a chance against me.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Mm,” I mulled it over. “I see. So I take it you know who I am already, but that’s what bothers me. I don’t seem to know who you are.”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you ever saw me. I was never around at the same time she was. I couldn’t have been. For the most part, I was kept isolated from most everybody else. Not that I minded.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. So, why Remora?” I wondered. “You’ve got over a thousand different names, don’t you? Couldn’t you have started a new life with one of those?”

“It’s because...I met someone important to me the day I chose that name.”

I shrugged. “Who am I to judge? One time an old man decided to call me Trout. True story.”

It didn’t take much for me to figure out what was going on. Who I was talking to.

“So you’re an alternate version, huh?” I asked. Rhetorical, I know.

“Yes. I am younger than she was, but I went through similar things and took on missions all the same.”

“They used you like a back up, I take it. In case the main one died. Which is what happened. Doesn’t that disgust you?”

“It is what it is.”

Right. Such emotionless responses.

“In a way, though, it’s relieving. Knowing that there’s a version of her that’s still around and can experience freedom, like me.”

“I’m just a version of myself. I’m me. Not her.”

“But you do share several names and a background, yes?”

“She was irresponsible. She knew what her job was and she got tired of it, so she died. That’s all. She didn’t even have to, she just wanted to. Yet people won’t shut up about her when she was never worth the attention to begin with,” she growled, working up a rant. It seemed I actually struck something of a nerve.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about. Don’t talk about my friend that way,” I shot back.

“You two weren’t friends,” she scoffed. I wondered if that was the most mad she had been in a while.

“I just decided that we were. Seeing as she’s not alive to object, I think I can make that decision,” I gave a sly grin.

“That’s not how that works. Did you two even talk?”

I lifted up my index finger and closed my eyes.

“Once. Just once.”

“About what?”

“Some guy was bothering her and she was uncomfortable, that much I could tell. She also looked ready to break a bottle over his head, and I wasn’t really interested in a fight breaking out. I think I said something like, ‘is he bothering you, queen?’ Then pushed him aside. She looked confused, asked ‘queen?’ And I think I laughed and said not to worry about it. I remember she thanked me, and chattered her teeth while trying to sound out the words to do so. I told her not to mention it and offered to help her with anything if she ever came to me.”

“And?”

“Needless to say, she never came to me. I think when I told her that, she said something like, ‘thanks, I’ll think about it’ while turning her head from side to side, so she probably wasn’t ever going to consider it. But makes me wonder about what could’ve been. Like maybe it would’ve changed something.”

“It wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done. That’s just how she was,” she replied, all brisk and choppy.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still –”

“Shut up about her,” she snapped, although her voice didn’t even manage to raise all that much. I could just tell with her gestures. The shake of her fist. Everywhere shook, in fact, like it was more than just a shiver.

“It bothers you that much, huh? Is it the name, or just being reminded?” I really wasn’t trying to push any buttons. I didn’t even realize there were any buttons to push. But I guess that’s what I needed to expect, with there being differences and all.

“No. I’m not bothered. It’s just a name. Just someone who’s not around anymore. That’s just why I think people should shut up about it. That person’s gone. Gone. Poof.”

Real convincing.

“Is it because it feels like you’re constantly being compared to with another version of yourself? Or how people might see her as a superior version of you?”

I waited for a response. When I got none, I figured I hit the nail on the head.

“I’m me. Just me. I’m the only version of me there is,” she concluded. Less robotic, but still choppy. Almost downtrodden in her tone.

That’s fine as long as you believe that.

“What about that friend of yours? Demetria?”

“We’re not friends.”

“But she’s important to you, isn’t she?”

“In a way.”

“So you care about her, then?”

“No.”

“Were you worried I was going to kill her if she found me, so you followed behind?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Oh bother. It was fun at first, but now it’s like I was talking to a child.

“That whole aloof thing you got going isn’t a very good look for you,” I lectured.

“I’m not aloof.”

“Sure Jan,” I looked over and replied. “Look, I used to be like you, so I get it. I wanted to do everything on my own and I didn’t have much to share with others. But I’ve been blessed to have met a few good people here and there. I’ve survived due in part to the kindness of others.”

“Well…” She thought it over. “I don’t want to be aloof.”

“Bark like a dog, then,” I commanded.

To my surprise, she did just that: her best impression of a dog barking, anyway. I expected more of a Shiba Inu, but instead it came out as a yip, like a Chihuahua.

I cracked up; burst into laughter. Sides split and everything.

“Now you’re a woof,” I told her.

She growled, and I was inclined to say like a dog, as well.

“I hate you, you know that?” She whined.

“Aw, but I thought you loved puns,” I teased.

Changing the subject, she went back to a topic I thought would make her uncomfortable.

“By the way, do you even know what her last job was?”

Probably referring to the R-word.

“No. I was already here doing my own thing when it happened, so I never got to find out,” I explained.

“Well, if you ever want to know, I can give you Ves’ number.”

OK. Someone I don’t know about. Not useful at all.

“Why? Is she single?”

“Stop that. She’s got a cute wife.”

“Oh? Cute?” I should’ve told her I wasn’t really interested in either, as I knew she was the type to take everything seriously. “Like Demetria?”

“She’s cute too, yes.”

“So you admitted it,” I observed.

“Objectively speaking, anyway. Besides, that’s not the point – Ves was the one who killed her. She could fill you in better than I could.”

I see. She should’ve explained that sooner. I looked over and blinked.

“I don’t have a phone.”

She stared as well, then said, “oh.”

“Well, look: I’m working at this diner in the arctic for these people named Sunny and Ray. They thought I would be fun to work with, and not, well...me,” it seemed like Remora was just trying to proposition me with something, anything. I didn’t understand why. “So if you want to sometime, you could go up there. You’re probably more what they were looking for to begin with.”

I shook my head.

“No thanks. The cold’s your thing. I’m not really tied down to a motif. Besides, I’m a homeless old bat. How do you expect me to get up there?”

“I don’t know. You’re resourceful.”

True. I couldn’t deny that bit. Before I could answer, I started to cough. Like a tickle or a scratch at the back of my throat.

I leaned over and covered my mouth with my fist. Remora looked down.

“Are you sick?”

“Why do you care?” I smiled, even as I continued to cough.

“I don’t, but if you are, I don’t want to catch anything.”

As soon as she said that, the cough went away.

“Don’t worry. It’s not something you can catch.”

“What is it, then?”

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with meso – no, it’s not that. I don’t think so, anyway.

“Sometimes a cough is just a cough. I’m getting old, anyway. I might die any day now.”

“Somehow I doubt it. You’re like a cockroach.”

“Yeah, but even cockroaches aren’t immortal,” I reminded her.

There was a moment of silence. That moment grew. Nothing more was said. Nothing more that I could recall. I soon drifted off to sleep, the silence having consumed me. In spite of the intrusions, I think I got the deepest sleep I had in a while.

#writing #stories #fiction #action #drama #crime #noir #remoras full #scifi #swords

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stevieang · 6 years

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Love Among the Little Chairs Chapter 1/?

Summary: A/U: Lia Accorsi is a preschool teacher of children with special needs, who loves what she does and loves who she is - a plus+plus size woman. Her best friend and secret crush, the kindergarten teacher next door, is James Buchanan Barnes. Little does she know, he’s crushing just as hard (maybe harder) on her and admires her as a teacher, cares for her as a person, and thinks everything about her is beautiful. Will they figure out how to find each other?

Word Count: 2090

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/OFC

Warnings: For this first time around, swooning, swearing, light fluff.

A/N: My first Tumblr post! I hope you like it, and you’re kind whether you do or don’t. Enjoy and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

“Just another morning with little chairs and the little people that occupy them.” Lia whispered as she walked through the toy castles, box forts, doll houses, and river rafts created by her students. Each creator had asked her, no, begged her, to leave their structures set up on the rug so they could play with them the next day.

She was hesitant, but when her teaching assistant and the Occupational Therapist who worked with her also started begging, she caved. She knew that for her students, these were more than just playthings, they were testaments to new steps on their developmental ladder.

Lia’s first love had always been to fight for the underdog. To stand up for kids and people that weren’t considered “enough” to make the cut - smart enough, able enough, thin enough, pretty enough, rich enough. She had always been one of them, and she chose to make her career being one of their strongest allies and loudest cheerleaders. Fuck everyone else who didn’t believe in them - she did.

After graduating with a double master’s in special education and communication disorders, Lia set out in the world. She grew up in a middle-class blue collar family where hard work was required and self-sufficiency was essential for success. She was thankful that her life wasn’t a “Her family treated her terribly because she was different, and therefore she had less-than-no self-esteem” story. Her family treated her with love and respect, and helped her grow into a cautiously confident woman who knew what she wanted.

Sure, the world was full of assholes with their bullying side comments, rude stares and guffaws, and really hurtful jokes. Lia knew that her world was better if it was smaller - she started slow when meeting new people, and once they were firmly in her confidence, showed them the full-on sarcastic beauty of her personality, and by then she had a friend and ally for life. She was always going to have to watch out for the public humiliation fat girls got, but after she figured out a good mix of healthy lifestyle habits she felt “right” in her body. She vowed to try her best to ban negative self-talk and was successful, most of the time.

Lia knew today was going to be busy. All the kids had therapy which she helped to run which left her no time to write the 2 ed plans that were due before the end of the day. All her students had moderate-to-severe special needs, ranging from physical disabilities that required walkers or wheelchairs, sensory impairments that made her an expert in finding and fixing glasses and hearing aids, and cognitive and learning challenges that made the world harder to understand and navigate.

She loved every single one of them as if they were her own. She’d been blessed to be able to interview and hire an amazing team of support professionals that made her and her students’ lives better (and much more interesting) every day. There was a reason her classroom was used as a model within the district, and this team was it.

She snapped pictures of the rug-bound creations to send home and hang in the classroom later. “You are always taking pictures, lady.” Lia looked up and smiled at Madeleine, her lead OT. Her grad student Madison (who also happened to be her daughter) walked in immediately after, bringing coffee and goodies that made Lia’s mouth water.

As they all took a moment to sit and sip, they were joined in quick succession by the team physical therapist (PT), nurse, and 2 teaching assistants. The adults *almost* outnumbered the kids, but each person was essential to her classroom’s success. One look at the clock had them quickly preparing for the day and heading out to meet the students.

The day was just about as busy as she predicted, with quite a few laughs (more than tears, so that’s always good). She had no time for her paperwork, so she ran to the corner sub shop to grab dinner and coffee before settling in for a long night in her classroom.

“Hello Ms. Lia”

She startled and giggled as Luke, the night custodian, came in for his rounds.

“I’ve been telling you for 5 years that after the kids leave, please call me Lia.”

“...and I’ve been telling you for 5 years that ain’t gonna happen. You’re a teacher. My ma would slap me if she heard me call a teacher by their first name.”

She sighed, impressed with his civility but a bit frustrated with her lack of progress with his stubbornness.

“How were the kids today? They sure were happy when they showed me their mudpies.”

Lia grinned. “Sorry about the mess. We tried to clean up as much as possible, but a few of the boys got away from us.”

“Don’t you ever apologize for those kids. I’ve told you before, my son’s like them, and he is our gift from God. Wouldn’t change a single thing about him.”

“Well, Mr. Luke, you are our gift. Thank you for all you do for us - day in and day out.” He quietly completed his work and bid Lia goodnight on his way next door as she returned her eyes to her computer screen. She didn’t even turn her head when the door opened soon after.

“I knew you’d be back - you forgot to tell me you’d lock up after me.”

“Sorry, what?”

Lia shrieked as the unexpected voice broke through her single-minded focus. She turned, ready to defend herself with the prized ceramic mug her class made her for Christmas.

“Whoa! It’s me, don’t shoot!” The teacher from next door had his hands up, barely covering the big smile on his face.

“Jesus, James! You couldn’t give a girl a warning! Something? I don’t know - a knock maybe?”

His chuckle made her forget her irritation. “Sorry, I just wanted to know if you wanted anything - I was going out to grab dinner.” She and James often worked late. Not only did they have neighboring classrooms, his class was the next step for many of her students. They had first worked together on some administrative special education committee that had eventually netted some grant money for new technology and consultant time, and had gotten along very well since.

“No thanks, I knew this was gonna be a late one so I ran out right after the kids left. How come you’re here? Well, other than there aren’t nearly enough hours in a day.”

“Yeah, something like that. Three ed plans to write, and we’re doing an experiment tomorrow that I want to make sure is completely set up before I leave. Maddie and Madison helped me with it and the kids are super excited.” Lia smiled at him. He was a wonderful teacher and better, she trusted him with the kids he inherited from her.

“That sounds awesome. I’d love to hear about it, but if I don’t finish this stuff, I’ll never get home. I’d like to catch my Thursday show live for once, instead of watching it on demand two weeks later.” She snorted to herself, knowing how unlikely that was. “Thanks so much for thinking of me, James. That was very kind.”

They laughed together at the words they used with the kids all day long to foster empathy. “You’re welcome. Let me know when you’re leaving. I’ll walk you home or grab a cab with you.”

Lia had already shifted her attention back to her work, giving him a half-hearted “sure, thanks” as she tried to regain her momentum and cross at least one thing off her list. James gently closed the classroom door, and almost bumped into Luke as he made his way out.

“She take you up on dinner this time?” The older man’s eyes were smiling as he went about his routine.

“No, not tonight. She’s busy.”

“That woman is always busy. Busy isn’t a reason for you to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Well, it’s the answer I got tonight, Luke. I’m gonna run and get dinner, do you want anything?” As he caught Luke shaking his head, he walked down the steps into the comfortably cool night air, unable to shake a feeling that he couldn’t quite name. After he got settled back into work, the text alert sounded. Lia and he often texted room-to-room because they knew their plans would be completely derailed if they talked face-to-face.

Lia A: Thanks for the offer of dinner, that was nice. Maybe another time?

JBB: Of course. The school year is far from over, I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities.

Lia A: You ain’t kidding. Alright, I’m out for the night. My brain has officially shut down and no more work can be completed that won’t have to be redone later. Have a good night.

JBB: WAIT

James ran out of his classroom and let out an exasperated sigh as he saw Lia’s darkened room. She’d done this before - texted him as she walked out the door, not letting him walk her home, and he wondered why. They respected each other, helped each other, even leaned on each other during the inevitably sucky times, but it seemed like every time he even hinted at something outside the work arena, she kindly but firmly declined. He grabbed his phone.

JBB: Why did you do that? I told you I would’ve walked with you.

Lia A: I know, but I peeked in and you looked like you were in a groove. I didn’t want to interrupt that. Plus it’s not far and I always carry my pepper spray and whistle. I’ll be fine.

JBB: Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?

Lia A: Mr. B, I am offended.

Lia A: Sigh. Yes. In fact, it’s usually you.

JBB: Can you just let me know you arrived home safely, then?

Lia A: You got it. Thanks.

James quickly packed up his messenger bag, took one last look at the room, and snapped a picture to send to Maddie and Madison, telling them how psyched he was to see what tomorrow brought. He bid Luke goodnight, and headed home, cheered by the text alert that told him Lia was safely home.

As Lia puttered in her little apartment, she thought, as usual, about her students. Oh, who the hell was she kidding, she was also thinking about James. He was so kind, so sweet, so helpful, so…smolderingly sexy. She had been successfully immunizing herself against James’ more alluring attributes for as long as she’d known him.

She knew he was a truly good person - heck, it was rare enough to find male special educators at the elementary level, but to find one as good as he was at his job? It was like catnip - she found it incredibly hard to resist. It didn’t matter - he wasn’t offering anything that she had to resist. A while back, he told her about a girlfriend back home, or something like that, which had slammed shut the gateway to any hope of him reciprocating her feelings.

Knowing this, she still needed to recite her mantra: “He’s just a friend. You’re friends and co-workers. He has a girlfriend.” The mantra didn’t help a lot, particularly when he texted her at unexpected times - sometimes they were goofy, sometimes serious, but always sweet. It was nice to know someone was looking out for you when you lived alone.

JBB: Did you catch your show in time?

Lia A: Sigh. No. looks like I’m 0 for 5 this season. S’alright. More to binge watch this weekend.

Lia A: Thanks for checking in - good luck on the lesson tomorrow. Can’t wait to hear how great it goes!

JBB: Welcome and thank you. I’ll send you some pictures. Night.

Lia finished doing all the stuff that would let her sleep as late as possible the next morning and climbed into bed. She laughed as she tagged her team in an Instagram post and sighed when she saw how soon the alarm would be going off.

James finished packing all the stuff he needed to hit the gym before work and smiled as he saw Lia’s Instagram post. She had all her materials packed up and her clothes and lunch ready to go. The caption turned the smile into something more, “The irresistible life of a preschool teacher. You know you want it.”

“You have no idea,” as he plugged in his phone and let those thoughts lull him to sleep.

Chapter 2

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @suz-123

#plus size #teacher crush #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #ofc #bekind #tumblrnewb

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