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rachelkaser · 3 years

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Stay Golden Sunday: Blind Ambitions

Rose’s blind sister Lily visits and might need more help than she’s willing to admit. The Girls have a garage sale.

Picture It...

The Girls are having a barbecue on the lanai with their guest, Rose’s sister Lily. Lily lost her sight six months ago, and is still adjusting while Rose tries not to be a mother hen. Blanche reminisces about Southern barbecues and Lily tells a story about their St. Olafian camping trips. The Girls discuss Lily’s adjustment -- she claims she can cope with most things now, and she even still watches television. When Sophia grouses about their TV being broken, Lily gives them the idea of having a garage sale to get money for a new one.

DOROTHY: Listen, mom, we cannot afford a new TV. We’re using the household money to repair the roof and repave the driveway. SOPHIA: Great, and what am I supposed to do while every other old lady on the block is watching Cosby? DOROTHY: Well, you can sit in the new driveway and hope that an amusing Black family drops by.

Later, the Girls are gathering together the things they could sell at a garage sale. Dorothy pulls out an old doll, Blanche has a hippy outfit she wore to Woodstock (the movie), and Rose finds a pair of candlesticks she decides to keep. Lily offers to put them in the alcove, and tells Rose not to be so protective. Rose apologizes -- while discreetly moving aside a lamp Lily was about to walk into. Lily then announces she’s going to her room and Dorothy and Blanche scramble to move a half-dozen boxes out of her way without her noticing, and she triumphantly declares, when she makes it to the hallway, that she doesn’t need anyone’s help.

The next day, Lily is cooking bacon on the stove, and when she turns away for a moment, the pan catches fire. She cries out for help, and Rose and Blanche come rushing in, with Rose putting out the fire with an extinguisher. Dorothy runs in as Blanche tells Lily she shouldn’t have been cooking on the stove. Lily apologizes but says it was just an accident as she sulks out. Blanche and Dorothy confront Rose, saying Lily isn’t as independent as she’s saying she is, and she might need to go back to the school for the blind, despite dropping out due to alleged boredom. Rose agrees to talk to her.

LILY: I remember when you were six years old and dad got you that puppy for your birthday. You worried because you thought her paws were too big and that the other dogs would laugh at her. ROSE: Well they did! They used to bark and point at her! LILY: Everybody pointed at her. You made her wear a bonnet and matching booties.

Rose goes to her room, where Lily is staying, and Lily reassures Rose that she’s fine. She says Rose is a worrier by nature, and Rose says not to change the subject. She tells Lily that she’s trying to do much by herself, and the independence of which she’s so proud isn’t serving her now. Lily finally breaks and tells Rose she just wants things to go back to the way they were, but they’re not going to. Rose tells her she needs help, and Lily begs Rose to come back home and live with her before bursting into tears.

Later, Rose tells the Girls that she’s seriously thinking about moving with Lily to Chicago, but both Blanche and Rose are skeptical that it’ll actually help Lily. Dorothy accuses her of doing it out of guilt, and Blanche relates a story of how she lost a male friend because her husband made her feel guilty about it. Sophia has a slightly more relevant story about how she struggled to get back on her feet after her stroke. It took Dorothy pushing her to be independent for her to actually make the effort, and Sophia tells Rose she needs to help her sister “to help herself.” Rose goes off to think some more.

DOROTHY: *after Blanche rebuffs a customer’s offer of $1.25 for her Elvis shakers* Blanche, I can’t believe that you did that! I mean, they’re just a silly salt and pepper shaker. BLANCHE: The King is gone, Dorothy. But we must cherish the things he left behind. His movies, his songs... DOROTHY: And his seasonings.

At the garage sale, every time someone shows an interest in one of the Girls’ things, they react badly. Rose isn’t willing to give up her teddy, Mr. Longfellow; Blanche believes her Elvis salt and pepper shakers must be cherished; and Dorothy squabbles with a teenager over a hockey stick used by Bobby Hull. They come to the conclusion that they’re not willing to part with any of their things, and decide to just pay for a new TV in installments. Blanche and Dorothy go to shoo out their customers.

Lily enters and tells Rose how much she appreciates Rose being willing to help her. She asks Rose to get her a glass of water, and Rose freezes before reminding Lily that she’s capable of getting a glass of water — and if she isn’t, she needs professional help that Rose can’t give. She’s made up her mind: She’s not going to Chicago. Lily gets angry and accuses Rose of turning her back on her, storming out.

DOROTHY: *after the third time Rose leaves the house and returns* Come on now. Come on now, get out of here. You’ve come back more times than Shirley MacLaine.

Two months later, Rose is on her way to visit Lily. She’s sure that Lily is going to pressure her into living with her again and is nervous because it was hard enough to refuse the first time. The Girls encourage her to stick to her guns. She leaves, but not without kissing her friends goodbye. When Rose arrives at the airport later, she thanks the flight attendant for all the extras they provided her (including pillows, Dramamine, and 10 packs of smokehouse almonds).

Rose is surprised to see Lily at the airport, waiting for her. Lily introduces her seeing-eye dog, Becky, who Rose of course melts over (side note: I don’t think you’re supposed to pet service dogs the way Rose does here, but considering the dog is likely not an actual service dog, I’ll excuse it). Lily apologizes to Rose, saying Rose did the right thing by pushing her. She went back to the school for the blind, and is finally in a place where she can take care of herself -- with Becky’s help, of course. She and Becky take the lead to the baggage claim, with Lily tossing off a one-liner that has Rose a bit concerned:

ROSE: I’m so proud of you. LILY: Oh this is nothing! What till you see me drive home!

“If it’s a choice between the two of them, let the blind one make change.”

After Blanche and Dorothy had their turns with sisterly conflict episodes, it’s now Rose’s turn. This time it’s not long-standing animosity or bubbling resentment that sets the two against each other, but a new life change that prompts an adaptation in the relationship. As depressing as it may be, I think Lily and Rose might be the healthiest sister relationship in the show’s history, not that that’s saying much. Lily is one of the more memorable guest characters on the show, mostly because she’s given room to have complex emotions.

In the episode, Lily is played by Polly Holiday, whose main claim to fame is playing Flo “Kiss My Grits” Castleberry on the sitcom Alice -- a catchphrase I’ve always found a little baffling, but at least it’s memorable. If you’d asked me based on what little I’d seen of Alice if she’d be capable of giving one of the most memorable guest performances on Golden Girls ever, I admit I’d have been a little skeptical -- and I’d be wrong, because she really brings it. It’s not often an actor can be in a scene with Betty White and completely command all the attention (and probably some of the credit goes to White for being a great scene partner).

SOPHIA: Why are we cooking outdoors? DOROTHY: Ma, we’re having a barbecue. SOPHIA: You know what they call cooking meat over an open fire in Sicily? DOROTHY: No, what? SOPHIA: Poverty.

I appreciate what the episode does, making Lily an . . . well, I don’t want to say antagonist, but definitely the person who’s causing the conflict. She’s not actually dealing with her problems, but she wants to look like she is because she’s too proud to ask for help -- and when she finally does, it’s from a person who’s not qualified to help her. The first time I watched this episode, I was a naïve youngster who didn’t understand why Rose didn’t go help Lily -- I felt that I would, under the circumstances. Now that I’m an adult, I understand better why that situation is untenable, because Rose would have to quit her job and, given that she can’t really teach Lily to be independent, would never be able to have her own life because Lily would be dependent on her.

The show is also not shy about showing how Lily’s lack of control over her situation is making her lash out, and that this isn’t excusable: During the pivotal scenes between Rose and Lily, Lily does everything she can to deflect taking responsibility for herself. She tells Rose, “You’d be worried if you couldn’t find anything to worry about” when Rose comes to check on her (keep in mind, she’d been screaming for help mere minutes earlier), begs Rose to fix the problem for her, and finally escalates to accusing Rose of abandoning her when Rose tries to get her to take care of herself.

DOROTHY: Will you look at this? I got this doll on my 10th birthday. I can’t believe I’ve kept her all these years. *Sophia enters behind her* Her hair’s falling out, her clothes are all worn, she smells of mothballs... SOPHIA: Hey, I may not be Ann-Margret, but I’m still your mother!

There is a difference between toughing something out and truly coping with it, and I think anyone who’s gone through a major life change would agree. The difference lies in confronting the reality of the situation. For most of the episode, Lily adamantly refuses to do that, and Rose enables her -- the other Girls recognize that and try to help Rose see it. For me, the best (and hardest) part of the episode to watch is that little moment in the kitchen when Rose says Lily is very independent, and Dorothy firmly says, “No she’s not, Rose.”

I’m not disabled myself, so I looked up details on common reactions to late-onset disabilities. We never know how Lily became blind -- if it was something that had been coming on for a while or if it was the result of some kind of trauma -- but I found an article on the Royal National Institute for Blind People’s website that clarified what Lily is going through: Grief. If you watch closely, you can see Lily’s going through a few different stages of grief -- denial, anger, and fear. While her situation is resolved mostly off-camera, it’s nice to see that she’s allowed to have those emotions.

ROSE: *about Lily* She served three terms on the city council, and she was the first woman in St. Olaf’s to ever have a pilot’s license. BLANCHE: Oh really? Well we have something in common, Lily. I was the first woman in my hometown ever to have a pilot! DOROTHY: Blanche’s bed is next to the X-15 at the Space and Aviation Museum.

Still, as much as I like the episode, I do think there are a few parts where the writing isn’t as strong as it could be. Most of the episode is tipped on the serious side rather than the comedic side. The garage sale scene is really funny, but doesn’t make sense. Presumably the Girls went through all their stuff before putting it out on the lanai, to confirm they wanted to sell it and to price it. Why is it that only on the day of the sale do they decide they want to keep all their bric-a-brac? Also, I’m not exactly sure how they plan to get a new TV with a $60 down payment and paying “the rest of it” off on time. Side note: The scene of them frantically clearing Lily’s path of boxes is funny, but it’s really their fault for leaving boxes of stuff lying around while a blind guest is trying to navigate their house.

While the episode is balanced really well between the four Girls, I think Blanche’s major part of the episode -- her extended story about her male friend Andrew (an excellent lover . . . no, riveter) -- doesn’t really serve either the episode or the scene it’s in, which is a recurring problem with first-season episodes. Her anecdotes from the opening scene about barbecues with the Darcy triplets (Hank, Beau, and . . . Dove?) are much funnier and feel more appropriate to the scene.

BLANCHE: *about Sophia’s stroke* But you got better. SOPHIA: Yeah, because [Dorothy] stopped coddling me. She screamed, she hollered, day and night. She made me do my therapy. She forced me to rebuild my life because she knew I could. And for that I’ll always be grateful. DOROTHY: Aw, thanks, Ma. SOPHIA: I only have one question: Now that I’m better, why do you still scream and holler at me?

Also, bit of dubious-but-fun trivia for you: I already said that Holliday is great as Lily. That said, she allegedly wasn’t the first choice for the role. If the information in Golden Girls Forever is correct, the person who the producers originally wanted to play Lily, the actress whose name was thrown around early in the process . . . was Lucille Ball. Yes, that Lucille Ball.

Keep in mind I couldn’t find a secondary source for this information. Contrary to the impression I probably give, I don’t take Golden Girls Forever as gospel and I generally do try to confirm what’s written via some other source. If I can’t, I don’t want to present it to you as fact. So allegedly the reason Ball declined the role was that she didn’t want to do too many serious roles, and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Polly Holliday got the role instead of Lucille Ball. If she had, I think the whole episode, including the dramatic scenes, would have been less about the characters and performances, and more about “OMG, that’s Lucy!”

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

Sophia shows how much patience she has for haggling:

CUSTOMER: How much? SOPHIA: Two bucks. Get wild. Treat yourself. CUSTOMER: Nah, I’ll give you a dollar-fifty. SOPHIA: What does this look like, Baghdad? *pulls vase out of her hands* Get the hell out of here! DOROTHY: Ma, that’s no way to sell things! SOPHIA: Hey, go to Neiman Marcus sometime, see if they treat you any better.

#golden girls #stay golden #rose nylund #sophia petrillo #blanche devereaux #dorothy zbornak #stay golden sunday #blind ambitions #picture it #s01e23

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 5 years

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The Last Frontier

Clearly, I should be blaming this on myself, but I am going to take the easy route and blame this on @claudeng80. Happy birthday? XD

This far in the bush, the hours between day and night are measured in the distance of fingers that lay between sunlight and horizon, give or take a lingering twilight. Right now, Zen can only measure three. Which gives him, he thinks, a little less than an hour to get this mess lumped over his shoulder down to the shoreline.

Really, the last thing he wanted to do when he left his nice warm bed this morning was spend the night roughing it. But there will be no float planes to come pull them out after dark, no additional boats sent until the sun starts to rise again at 3am. Perhaps, if they are lucky, the Coast Guard will feel gracious enough to medi-vac Obi into town, but-

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

-he would like it to not have to come to that.

“I would love to, but you keep giving me reasons to have to come after your ass,” Zen growls, taking another step more by feel than by sight. “Honestly, how did you manage to get yourself into this mess?”

“Self defense,” Obi clips back, breathless beneath the pain. “Mama-bear came after me first.”

“You know better than to be at the salmon run this time of year,” Zen replies, wedging himself flush against Obi’s side as the mountain trail dips.

Obi grunts, teeth bared in a grimace, and follows his steps. “Man’s gotta eat, boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” Zen gripes, but his brow furrows, concerned. Not for the first time he notes how gaunt and hollow Obi’s cheeks looked in the spring when the snow thawed enough to venture forth, how his heavy coats sag even now in the height of summer. More than once, Mitsuhide admitted to cutting him lose with a warning after catching him trapping out of season.

Flexing his hand, Zen feels the way the bones of Obi’s ribs fit beneath his palms as he guides him down the mountain. “So,” he begins, cautiously, carefully. “How has hunting been going?”

“What hunting?” Obi laughs, eyes hard as knives as he considers him. “You need a permit for that.”

Zen rolls his eyes, and that- might have been a miscalculation on his part. His right boot slides out from under him and the hard packed dirt becomes as slick as ice when Obi’s weight falls to slide with him. On instinct, one of Zen’s arm tenses and the other shoots out, grasping a sapling before they both of them take the fast way down the mountain.

His heart is still in his throat when he hears Obi say, “Fuck. Fuck, let go.” Boney fingers and jagged nails are scratching at where Zen’s hand grips his side. “Ribs, boss. Ribs.”

“Oh,” Zen breathes, and immediately loosens his hold. “Sorry.”

Obi drags in a greedy breath, face pinched tight, and stumbles out of his grip and into the branches of a spuce.

Hesitating, Zen looks down the mountain, then back up to the slice of horizon peaking through the trees, and hold his hands to the sky once again.

Maybe twilight will be merciful.

“Alright,” Zen groans, scrubbing his face. “Okay. You’re going to sit. We’re going to take a break and you’re going to let me look at that before it gets too dark.”

“Roger.” Obi plops down on dirt and topples over onto his good side, rolling onto his back to stare at the rapidly darkening sky.

“I didn’t say lay down,” Zen hisses, squatting beside him and pulling him back up to sitting. Obi goes with a whine, but already the scratches on the back of his head are caked with dirt, all mixed in with dried and sticky blood. “How are you even alive?”

“Obviously, I’m not tasty enough,” Obi grins, sitting still when Zen leans in and stares at where the claw caught his cheek.

“There’s not a single animal that likes the taste of humans,” he grouses, moving down to the tattered remains of one of Obi’s sleeves held tight to his chest. “Give me your arm.”

Obi’s face twitches, but he doesn’t what is asked, slowly unlocking muscles until Zen can see where the blood still oozes out of bite and claw marks. He was smart. He protected his face and neck. But the injuries were deep. And the pain-

“You’re going to have to go into town for this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Obi draws his arm back. He’s already staring into an darkening forest. “For a scratch like this?” he laughs. “I’ve handled more on my own, boss. Just get me down the mountain and I’ll take care of things from there.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zen snipes. “A very lucky idiot. Do you have any idea how rare it is to survive a Grizzly?”

The slow spread of his lips is the most obnoxious and cocky thing Zen has ever witnessed on a human’s face. “Aw, she wasn’t trying to kill me. She was just playin’.”

Zen clambers to his feet, and reaches down, pulling Obi up with him. “Come on,” he sighs, expecting every inch of their journey from here back to town to be a battle. “We’re going.”

“You just want to drag me in front of the judge,” he whines, but throws his arm over Zen’s shoulders again just as easily.

“After all the times I let you go?” Zen raises an eyebrow, taking more careful steps now that the dark is deepening. “Doubtful.”

“You’d be bored without me.” And really, does this man ever shut up? “What’s a game of cat and mouse without the mouse?”

Zen’s mouth slams shut with a click, teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t have an answer for that, not really, but with every soft grunt and hissing breath that Obi tries to bite down on, Zen can’t shake the feeling that he’s got to prove him wrong.

“You didn’t manage to save enough last winter, did you?” Zen tries after several minutes of deepening pants. Silence has removed Obi’s distractions, and sweat sheens his face when the straight finally comes into sight through a break in the trees. “You lost a lot of weight and you haven’t been able to put it back on.”

Obi shakes his head once, pain or exhaustion drawing the truth out of him. “Something got into my stores one night,” he admits. “It was a hard winter after that.”

Zen tsks. “That’s why you’ve been poaching.”

“It’s not poaching,” he snips back. “It’s surviving.”

He’s not about to get in an ethical debate about this. Not when enforcement is literally his job. “You need a permit to hunt,” he explains for what feels like the millionth time since they met. “If you don’t have a permit, you’re poaching.”

“You need money for a permit, boss,” Obi replies, teeth bared. “If I had money, I wouldn’t be hunting.”

Zen narrows his eyes, considering, and they clear through the edge of the forest just as the last of sunlight dips behind the mountains on the island on the other side of the straight. Summer sunsets light the sky in a blaze of orange and rose and Zen grins, his boat right against the shoreline and only a couple of steps into the rising tide. Just where he left it.

“You know, you always call that,” Zen says off-handedly, grabbing the rope tied off to the mast and dragging the boat to him until it grinds against hard rock and sand. He lets go of Obi and takes a step into the water. “How would you like it if that title were for real?”

“What?” Obi is staring at him, eyes so wide you may as well drink from them. “Are you offering me a job?”

“Depends,” Zen shrugs, grasping hold of the edge of the boat and hauling himself up. “You interested?”

#bubbleswrites #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #zen #obi #modern alaska au #zen works for the forest service #obi has been living off the grid #poorly #and a lot of other stuff is happening too but this is it for now #xd xd xd

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olivia-lovecraft · 5 years

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Tea with Barnaby Pt.2

[The following is a continuation of the rp scene between Olivia and @draenei-barnaby. The letter has arrived and now Olivia must come clean about something. Pt. 1 here. ]

Olivia blinked once and then was out of her seat and rushing to the door, throwing it open and glaring down the alleyway. Just as all the previous times, there was no one to be seen on the street or beyond.

With a frustrated groan she closed the door again and plucked up the envelope as she turned back to her chair. Olivia seemed suddenly aware of how odd her behavior must have appeared.

“Sorry, darling. I’ve been inducted into a bit of a mystery and…well…” she gestured to the envelope with a shrug. “I don’t know who has been sending these little love notes. Er…not actually love notes.”

She sat down and put the envelope in front of her, looking at it with a frown. She couldn’t decide if the timing was appropriate or inconvenient. Regardless, she took a sip of her tea to calm herself.

Olivia’s reaction to the strange envelope caused Barnaby's brows to raise. Her explanation that she’d been “inducted” into a mystery, a situation that didn’t seem entirely of her own consent, caused him to frown in concern, his tail sweeping slowly behind him.

“Is the sender of these letters bothering you, Miss Olivia?” he demurred, with just enough of a low note to make it clear what he thought of anyone who would harass her.

"Oh. No. Not really. It bothers me that I don't know their identity, but I have sort of accepted my part in this mystery."

Olivia put down her teacup and looked at Barnaby. For a few breaths she considered something before explaining.

"You see, the sender, a mysterious 'S', claims to know me, even that we were once close colleagues, but I don't know who they could be. Although the list of people I have worked with is quite small, most of those individuals are people I either never see or think about, or people I see often."

She shrugged and picked up the envelope, giving in to opening it.

"The mystery I am involved in surrounds this ancient entity known as 'the Shadow Wife.' So far, 'S' has asked me to investigate a haunted Troll village to obtain a trio of tablets that were either created by the Shadow Wife or used in a ritual dealing with her."

She took a small stack of papers out of the envelope and scanned the top page to sate her curiosity.

Barnaby was quiet for a long moment after Olivia explained the strange situation surrounding the black envelope. He finished his tea, and stared at his place setting, taking some time to put his thoughts in order.

“...The anonymity surrounding the messages is something I do not like,” he finally said. “Why would they need to hide their identity? It sounds fishy, especially considering what this person is asking you to do.”

"It annoys me," Olivia said plainly, frowning at the letter. "But I have this aching curiosity surrounding the information they send me. The only mention of their reasoning was in an initial letter. I sent a letter requesting they come speak to me, in regard to the tablets we uncovered, and 'S' doesn't even acknowledge it in this letter!"

She put the first page down with a huff, allowing Barnaby to read it if he desires.

"Now they are asking me to visit a grotto in Suramar, one that can only be reached by swimming. If this person actually knew me, then they would know I haven't the faintest idea how to swim."

Ms. Olivia Lovecraft,

I am so very pleased you are still interested in pursuing this research. After reviewing your report, and the harrowing tale of your crew’s success, I can no longer call this project solely my own. It belongs, in part, to all of you. It does my soul good to know those tablets are safe and the spirits of that village are no longer cursed.

Regarding the tablets, I do not have need of them. They are very likely safer under your protection, and will no doubt have their mysterious revealed by the dedication of you and your companions. If memory serves me correctly, I have more information about them somewhere, but I have not yet had a chance to compile it for you. Trust me when I say you will have everything before this project is complete.

Now, onto the next destination. As before, I have included a brief summary of the location and what needs to be retrieved. You will notice, that the events included in this portion took place long before the events in Quel’thalas. The reason I am presenting them out of order is primarily due to the weather. Suramar experiences no snow, but the winters can still be too cold for swimming, and the grotto you seek is only accessible during low tide.

Thank you again for your continued assistance, and pass along my thanks to your companions.

Sincerely,

Barnaby slid the page over to himself with one of his massive hands. He frowned further at what he read, not liking the tone of the mysterious letter. There was too much withholding of information going on for him to be comfortable with the idea of these archaeological excursions.

He slid the letter back to Olivia. “I think it is a fool’s errand,” he groused, although his grumpiness wasn’t directed at her. “Who is this individual, and what is their interest in uncovering these items? It strikes me as suspicious. However…”

Barnaby set his arms on the table with his hands folded and looked at Olivia. “...I can also see this is something that interests you to do, even if I do not like the circumstances surrounding it. Rather than try to sway you from taking this course, I would ask if you would permit me to accompany you.”

Olivia expelled an amused huff as she nodded in agreement. She recognized the foolishness of it all, but it didn't stop her. Perhaps she was a fool.

Her musing stopped there, though, as Barnaby offered to travel with her. She took a bit of her food, considering the excuse that she shouldn't let it get cold. In reality, though, she was pondering the request.

"Well, I have others who travel with me. My cousin is one of them, in face. Lorcan. And a dear friend, 'Thea," she stated with a soft smile, even as her mind was racing to determine which Thea he would meet. "And a rather clever acquaintance of whom I am rather fond, Latilda. We have two others who have acted as scouts for us, but I am not certain if they will be available this next time."

She put down her fork and looked at Barnaby.

"In truth, we could probably use your help, but I have to come clean about something. Something that may spoil our tea. I am going to leave it up to you if you want to discuss it now or before you go."

Barnaby looked pleased when Olivia mentioned they could probably use his help, but it was short-lived as she went on to say that she had something to tell him, that he potentially might not like. He tilted his head slightly to one side. “...It seems to me, that would depend on what is more comfortable for you, Miss Olivia. If you would prefer to tell me now, and not have to worry about it later, we can talk about it now.”

He regarded her with an expression that was appropriately serious, but not unkindly. “Know that whatever you have to tell me, I think it unlikely that it would significantly affect my opinion of you.”

“Well, I am always in favor of ripping the bandage off,” Olivia fibbed. “So, I am going to just come out and say it. The reason I believe I am involved in all of this is because I walk a dark path. I have for many years. I am a Warlock, one who specializes in the weave of Void, Shadow, and Arcane energies. I need to tell you this, because it has played a role in our last journey. We were attacked by some undead…constructs.”

She paused and tried to decide how much else she should share, what she should say of her companions.

“I know that my path is one that opposes much of the Light’s beliefs, but I swear to you, Barnaby, I am not a threat to anyone. This is simply the life that has resulted from years of poor decisions, and it is not the sort of life one can back out of. I do hope…this doesn’t change your opinion of me too much.”

Barnaby sighed a long sigh and sat back with his arms crossed and his head lowered. It was apparent that he didn’t precisely like what he had heard and was taking a moment to process it.

Fortunately, before things could become truly awkward, he raised his head and spoke.

“Olivia… I trust you to make decisions for yourself. If this is the kind of work you have chosen to take on, then I believe it is not my place to act as if I think I know better.” He spread his hands in an open gesture. “That said, if you practice this art… I believe it would be best to do so out of the desire of your heart… and not because you feel you cannot get away from it. I believe you are a strong woman, Miss Olivia, and that you will be the most strong person you can be, if you follow your calling.”

Barnaby finished off his tea, then quirked a smile. “...That’s all I have to say about it.”

“I have seen souls stronger than my own lost to this dark path because they were looking for a way out. I am not. I may have arrived here by poor decisions or fate, but I have done more good through my understanding of the Shadows than I could have denying this part of me,” Olivia nodded. “I am learning to recognize my strengths.”

She glanced at the cheesecake but found herself unwilling to make a move for it yet.

“The main reason I am bringing this up in this moment is because from this point forward, if you still choose to help me, I will always endeavor to be just as honest with you as I am able. There may still be secrets I must keep, but only those that are not mine to share. Things given to me in confidence. Beyond that, though, I will be truthful with you, because that is what you deserve.”

Barnaby was quick to reassure Olivia, after the difficult confession. “Of course, Olivia. I understand.” He nodded. “I appreciate that you could be honest with me about it.” Then he smiled crookedly. “Sounds like this will be quite an interesting excursion.”

"Oh yes, interesting indeed," Olivia chuckled, allowing some of her relief to escape on the expression.

When she was certain he wouldn't be making a hasty retreat, Olivia started to cut the cheesecake into large slices. Although an eight-inch cake could likely feed a eight to ten people, she only cut it into six slices. She had a hearty sweet tooth and didn't figure Barnaby would object to a slice befitting his stature.

"I don't yet know when we will make the journey. I will have to see if a portal to Dalaran could be obtained without much fuss and also see if Suramar is off limits to Alliance races. I don't believe it is, but since the Shal'dorei joined the Horde, I can't be certain. We snuck into Quel'thalas, but it won't be so easy to sneak anywhere from the floating city. Have you ever been to Dalaran?"

“Aye, many times,” Barnaby replied, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the delicious cheesecake. Olivia had been correct in assuming he would take a large slice for himself. “Less so these days, but I passed through that way often during the war in Northrend.”

He frowned faintly at the news that Olivia had snuck into Quel’thalas. He was certain they were both perfectly aware of the danger of being captured in such a place. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best that I’m coming along,’ he thought to himself.

For now, he would focus on their pleasant lunch, particularly the dessert.

Olivia gestured to the bowl of berries for the top but decided to take her first bite plain. She hummed happily and decided to speak of lighter manners for the rest of the meal. While she was grateful to have Barnaby joining the expedition, enough talk of it had occurred until she got the rest of the group together and caught up.

So, despite a rather heavy confession on her part, the afternoon ended on a bright note.

#rp #rp log #sorta long post #barnaby #pt 2

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takadasaiko · 6 years

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Breathe Again Beneath the Flames: Chapter Five

FFN II AO3

Summary: Compromises are struck across the board.

Chapter Five

Tom had always been one to roll with the punches. It was what had gotten him through some of the darkest days and all of the dangerous ones. He adjusted where he needed to, finding the right place to shift so that things worked out right. He had always been a quick learner in that way.

Now, though, everything was at a standstill. It had been months since he and Liz had been attacked and he was stuck doing nothing about it. Nothing of any consequence, anyway. Howard was convinced that his entire focus needed to be on healing, and he had tried that, leaving him with little to show for it. All of the victories seemed so mundane. He wasn't dozing off quite as much and he had finally gotten to his feet as long as there was something to help support his weight, but all in all it wasn't enough. It was too slow. It didn't get him back to his daughter. He couldn't go to his wife. Hell, he was yet to hold his hands steady long enough to shave - something he had grumbled about all the way when Nez finally cornered him on it - much less hold a gun. There were days that the little progress he had made felt worthless for the time it had taken for him to get there.

But he still had his mind and despite the constantly changing doses of medication that the doctors had him on he was still sharp, and that had to count for something.

Dr Gramble was encouraging him to use the cane when he could, and as exhausted as it left him, Tom was more than willing to take advantage of the limited freedom it provided. He used the short outings disguised as exercise to get a better idea of the layout of his location and to look for any options that would allow him to work around his shadows to find out more about what had happened.

Tom loosed a long breath, feeling the muscles in his side cramp painfully at the strain he was putting on himself and he leaned heavily on the cane he was using. He could feel the way his legs had begun to shake and his knuckles were turning white from his grip. He might be getting a little further each day, but apparently he'd pushed beyond the limit on that one.

Dark blue eyes swept the hall. It was empty, which wasn't abnormal. Howard kept limited staff there and most of those were medical. A few guards moved in and around, but Nez was the only operative Tom recognized. No one seemed to be in this hall, which would either be the best or the worst case if he ended up in a heap on the floor.

"Hey, Tom-Tom. You doing okay, buddy?"

Tom nearly lost his balance at the sudden voice at his back. He tried to turn, left knee folding under him as he did, and he sank back against the wall for additional support. When he finally pried his eyes back open he saw Dumont standing there, laptop in hand, and his expression a little worried. "Yeah, golden," Tom grumbled, trying to straighten himself up.

"Didn't realize you were getting this far down on your own yet." The taller man lifted an eyebrow at that and Dumont chuckled. "C'mon. I just got something in I think you'll be interested in."

The peeked Tom's interest and he carefully pushed himself off the wall again and followed Dumont into the first available room. "Whole place is full of empty rooms and hideaways," the tech expert was saying as he sauntered over to the table in the middle, pausing just long enough to make sure Tom didn't need help. Thankfully, though, he didn't force it, and Tom eased his way over to a chair that was just waiting on him and sank down gratefully.

"I've noticed. Howard's really taking the secret thing to a whole new level."

"The more people that know you're alive, the bigger the chance the information slips out to the wrong people."

Tom's head snapped to look back at the door and Nez shot him a grin and nodded to shorter man behind him. "Thanks for the heads up, Dumont."

"Been looking for me?"

"It doesn't look good on me when you go missing."

Tom shook his head, a small smile creeping into place. "Nothing interesting to see here, is there?" he asked Dumont, and the other man chuckled.

"Depends if you think what we've been looking into on your case is interesting or not."

"Say what?" Tom managed, looking between the two. Nez was smirking and Dumont grinned openly. Well they did know how to get his attention. He'd been harassing both of them for any piece of information he could get about anything. He would have taken the case, or Liz and Agnes, or even just where the hell he was right then. They had shut down tight, the running mantra always that he needed to focus on getting better and let them do their jobs. "You two made it pretty damn clear you were with Howard on me getting involved."

"You're not getting involved," Nez said simply. "You're just getting looped in on what we have. You're not going anywhere, you're not doing anything with it."

He pushed an amused breath out through his nose. "Me skipping out is starting to become a real fear, isn't it?"

Nez quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did Dumont not just find you half collapsed against a wall?" He set his jaw and she flashed a grin.

"We get it, man," Dumont offered. "You're stuck here, your girls are out there, and there's a guy that tried to kill you. We'd be going stir crazy too."

"So we're going to work with you if you're willing to work with us," Nez said, taking a seat on the edge of the table.

They were offering him an olive branch. A compromise to stop him from pushing too hard and to keep him from going stark raving mad while trapped in this prison that his father thought would keep him safe. "Howard know about this?"

Nez's pale gaze caught his. "Howard has his own problems right now. He sent us here to help you and this is the judgement call we're making."

"We're a team… even if you did decide to leave Halcyon," Dumont said with a small smirk of his own.

Tom grinned. "There it is. I knew that was coming up sooner or later."

"Hey, if I had a wife that looked like yours at home, I wouldn'ta lasted as long as you did."

The smile remained, but softened a little at the thought of Liz. He needed to focus, both on getting back into fighting shape and finding out more about the man that had attacked them. When she she woke up - and he knew she would. He had never met someone stronger than Elizabeth Scott Keen - he needed to be ready for her. "Okay," he breathed out after a long moment, "what do you guys have so far?"

It had been a cold homecoming to Halcyon when she'd returned weeks earlier. Some of the staff welcomed her openly, happy to see her back, but she could feel eyes on her at every turn. It wasn't a great deal different than when Howard had first started to spiral and she had had to step up and take on more responsibilities in the management position, though this time he'd painted her out to be a traitor and a villain. He'd certainly done well enough to poison people against her and she wondered just how much of it he actually believed and how much of it was convenient.

There had been a time when they had been close. They respected each other just as much as they loved each other and while she couldn't say that they never kept secrets, they did know that they had each other's backs.

Until the day that they didn't.

Exactly when that was she still had trouble pinpointing. She'd been over it enough times in her mind, combing over the details of their lives. The parties, the board meetings, the dinners. So many couples that went through what they had simply didn't make it, but they had been solid for each other once, and she'd watch that wash away bit by bit over the years until his obsession with Christopher's disappearance tore him apart.

Or maybe that had all been an act. Maybe that's just what he wanted her to believe. There were still so many questions left unanswered, so many that he wouldn't trust her to answer or perhaps she shouldn't trust the words spilling from his clever tongue, but if she had something when it came to Howard, at least she was relatively sure he wasn't selling off Whitehall's experiments to the highest bidder. She knew what he was using the man for, even if it may not have been his original purpose. It was at least a place to start, and Katarina seemed certain that whatever was coming for them required not one, but two Hargraves to fight it. She always had leaned more towards a flare for the dramatic.

Scottie set her mask of calm firmly into place as the elevator doors opened, releasing her into the lobby. She had taken the only other office on the floor when she had been reinstated. It had been the one she had kept before he had disappeared, before he had faked his own death. Howard had offered it up, but she wasn't fool enough to think it was a peace treaty. He wanted to keep an eye on her. It was the same reason he had barely left Halcyon since their forty-eight hour reprieve to make their decision.

He didn't look up when she turned to his office instead of hers. He was bent over his desk, searching over something with all the focus of a man obsessed. She watched him for a long moment, that clever mind of his working faster than most people could process. He was always looking for the angles, calculating every direction that situation my go in. He had proven to be an excellent point man in Halcyon and was a brilliant strategist, but Kat was right. None of that would help her if she didn't have an in with him.

"This is never going to work unless we trust each other."

She heard him snort softly, pen scribbling against paper, but he didn't bother to look up at her. "That would require us to actually trust each other, Scottie." He'd known she was there. Of course he had. "Forgive me if I'm hesitant on that particular fool's errand."

"Says the man that put me in prison for months," she groused, unable to keep it to herself.

"You managed that on your own, Scottie." His gaze finally flickered up. "Kidnapping is a dangerous business. So is attempted murder."

There it was. He was still convinced that she'd been the one to try to kill him. For a long while she had thought that it might have been a power play and that he knew that, no matter how far they might take this spat of theirs, she would never physically hurt him. Well, she'd never kill him. Now, though, she was fairly certain he believed the suspicion. If it had been an easier thing to accept than to consider alternatives, she wasn't sure, but he should have known better. "Have you ever thought for a moment that maybe I didn't sabotage your plane and that there's something bigger at play?"

He snorted. "Misdirect, subterfuge, do you think I won't see through that? You're not an innocent victim that's been caught up in all of this. You forget I know exactly who you are, what you are, and -" he sat back and she knew that studying expression. She'd seen it many years over, but most recently, she'd seen their son wear it while getting a read on someone - "I seem to remember that taking planes out of the sky without leaving any trace evidence was a special skill set of yours once upon a time."

Scottie stared at him, shock working its way into her bones before her expression hardened. It had been more years than they cared to admit since either of them had dared to bring up her past. It wasn't like it had been a surprise when he'd married her. He'd known the day they met who she worked for, had known what kind of woman she was by the time they married. The only reason to bring it up now was to deal a low blow and throw her off.

She stepped fully into the office and closed the door behind her, providing them with privacy. "What would have been the point of me taking down your plane, Howard? Of trying to kill you?"

"Moving everything into place for the Twenty-Five Year Plan?" he drawled, and his eyes remained on her, studying her.

Her thin lips twitched. "I left at the same time you did. You know that, Howard."

"I thought I did." His voice was cutting and he shook his head. "Maybe you are just that good. They always did want Halcyon. "

She could feel her careful mask slipping. Her brows furrowed and the lines around her mouth deepened as she frowned, the audacity of the insinuation hitting deeper than she cared to admit. "They took our son and I didn't give to them, Howard. What the hell could they have offered to pull me back to their side?"

"You tell me, Scottie."

"Nothing is more important to me than our boy." She pulled in a trembling breath and made up her mind. She had a reason she was there. "Believe it or not, I came here with a peace offering. I've had some of my people-"

"Your people?" Howard echoed with a raised eyebrow.

"My people," she stressed, "looking into Tom's murder. I received a tip on the man ultimately responsible and I wanted to verify the information was coming from a reliable source. It took longer than I expected, but I did. It's something that I think you'll want to see."

Howard stood slowly and for a moment she thought he was going to start in again. Finally he reached for the offered envelope and she saw him frown as he did.

Scottie offered a small smirk. "Don't be too hard on your people, Howard. They would have gotten there eventually."

He opened the folder and she saw him scanning through the pages that Katarina had supplied her with. How much of it he already knew, she wasn't certain, but from the minor twitches in his expression she thought there were a few new items that Nez and Dumont - the only two he would trust to look into it, she knew - hadn't uncovered yet. One of the first things she'd checked when she received access to do so was if Howard had people looking into the attack on their son, but she'd found nothing. That meant it was being conducted off-books and from a remote location that a casual sweep and audit wouldn't catch. She knew what sort of roadblocks she ran into just trying to follow the information back, and if she did, she knew they had as well. If they wanted to or not, getting to the bottom of all of this would require them to work together.

She saw him stop and it didn't take much to guess where he was. One quick glance showed a heavy set man that was scowling through his glasses at the camera. "Had you found him yet?"

"No," Howard breathed, likely before he realized what he was saying.

"His name is Ian Garvey. He's the man that led the attack on Tom."

Howard blinked rapidly like he was trying to clear his vision. "Why?"

"My guess is that you are positioned to know that information better than I am."

That pulled his attention back to her. "My people haven't come across that information yet."

"Really? Not even Tom?"

Her husband loosed a frustrated sigh. "Scottie, I know how much you want to believe-"

Her thin lips stretched out into a tight, mirthless smile. "Flip to the last page." He shot her a questioning look and she rolled her eyes. "Just do it."

Howard shook his head but did as he was told. She watched the colour drain from his face at the sight of the fuzzy photo that had rested in Katarina Rostova's second envelope. It was poor quality, taken from a tiny camera barely able to get past security, most likely, but Scottie hadn't had any trouble recognizing the dark haired man in a wheelchair.

"Now that we're being honest with one another," Scottie prompted.

"Where did you get this?"

"A source."

"What source?"

She shook her head, the smile returning. "You know I can't tell you that, Howard. Not yet. I want to get to that place though. I believe that starts with ending the man that tried to kill our son."

His gaze turned back to the open folder and he flipped back. "He's a Marshall. He'll be protected."

"No one's untouchable," Scottie all but growled, her voice dipping down as she glared at the photo.

"No, but it does explain why it's been so difficult to unearth certain information." He heaved a deep breath, his gaze flickering back up to her. "What are you proposing, Scottie?"

"I think I've proven what I can bring to the table, not that you didn't know. I want you to trust me, Howard, but you don't have to. All you have to know is that this man tried to kill our son and I will do whatever it takes to bury him in the ground."

Howard set his jaw, a rough chuckle leaving him. She could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. Good, that meant he was intrigued. "There's the woman I married. This won't be easy. There's no room for error."

"Then it's a good thing we're professionals, isn't it?" Scottie reached across the desk and took the folder from him. "How about we find some time off the clock to discuss our next step?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but turned, leaving him in this office alone. They didn't have to trust each other to protect their son, they just had to be able to work together.

Notes: I had so much fun with this chapter. I like the fact that Scottie often had a trick up her sleeve or a different angle to play in the show, so it was great to be able to go that direction here. As much as I adore Howard, he's going to have to be, uh... convinced to play nice ;)

Anyone have a guess as to Scottie’s previous employers?

Big thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, and I always love to hear your thoughts on the story so far!

Next time: Solomon obtains important information, Tom dives into research, and Scottie pushes to be able to see her son.

#the blacklist #au fanfiction #Breathe Again Beneath the Flames #Tom Keen #Scottie Hargrave #Howard Hargrave #Nez Rowan #Dumont DeSoto

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theladyfangs · 6 years

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Reflections Part 2/ The Other

Gabriel 1/ A Storm In The Ocean

Gabriel I

Mycelium works in mysterious ways. He’d learned that through observing Paul Stamets. He’d learned that this network, used as a weapon of destruction in his universe, could also give life elsewhere.

Gabriel chuckles low, dark. Unhappy.

He was so close. Close to having it all—his revenge, his victory, his empire, and her.

But she refused to come.

Georgiou had gotten to her once again, this time, turning her against him. Michael hadn’t even let him explain.

Now he’s trapped—neither living nor dead, but caught between.

A sword through the back. But the twist—came from her, as she’d stepped aside as he reached for her, letting him fall into the light.

He saw his own death approach in blinding brilliance, and when he woke up, he was here.

Wherever here, is.

“Serves you right, you rat bastard,” Hugh says, coming to stand next to him and crossing his arms as they both look down at the scenes below. “Everything you touch, you destroy.”

“I wasn’t the one who killed you,” he throws back tartly. “But believe me, if I could now…”

They both know the threat is empty.

“Is this what it’s like?” He asks, quieter now, the mask of bluster fading as he watches Michael pet her tribble.

It’s how he spends his time now. Simply watching her. Watching over her. Still trying, even in death, to protect her when he’s failed to do so twice now. The only comfort is that this time, it was his life that was taken, not hers. At least he managed that.

He watches her walk the corridors of Discovery quietly, the pet in her arms. And he watches her at work—on the bridge, engineering. He sees her when she’s asleep, but his heart hurts when she tosses, and he knows it’s not restful. He can see everyone and everything that goes on there—the entire crew of the Discovery, but it is Michael he focuses on the most. The place where his attention never wavers.

“Always,” Hugh says. Gabriel knows the doctor does the exact same thing. Only, he watches over Paul. Watches, as his husband walks into a room that housed two people, but is now home to only one. He watches as his lover stares at the bed but is unable to bring himself to lie in it. And he watches as Paul does as he’s had the past few weeks, and turns to the couch, sleeping curled up and alone.

The temperature around them falls, and Lorca looks up and around as the place they’re in darkens.

“What is that?” he asks.

Hugh turns. “A storm is coming.” He points.

Below them, the Discovery sails on, oblivious to the gathering of ionized particles beginning to spark and churn in the distance. Separate from them, Gabriel and Hugh are the left behind.

“Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything,” Gabriel says, to himself.

“I thought you hated poetry,” Hugh turns to look at him, surprised.

“C.S. Lewis,” Gabriel says absently.

A Storm In the Ocean

The only option is escape. The storm is too strong for the old freighter to manage. Cracks in the painted-over rust begin to crawl up the ship’s walls, revealing the extent of the decay. They are all dying creatures here. He learned to embrace it a while ago, how to survive while teetering on the edge. Gabriel Lorca learned how to survive.

The alarms begin to sound as the ship starts to break up, the storm raging outside.

“Abandon ship,” he gives the order.

The crew scrambles, taking with them what they can—mostly intelligence files.

He watches from the bridge, holding the ‘Lisbeth, as steady as he can as the pods take off, each carrying a soul. The crew complement is dropping…

35…30…24…21…17…16…10…6…4….1…A flash of light streaks across the front viewer and the Lisbeth trembles violently, a loud, yawning sound that he knows, can’t be good…

“Captain, we’re at a safe distance, sir. Evacuate…evacuate…”

His XO’s voice comes through on the conn. But Lorca is tired. And he thinks now is as good a time to die as any.

“No can do, Xhian,” he says calmly. “Take care. Keep up the fight,”

Because he’s done with it.

Another bolt, this time, hitting its target. The electricity begins to course through the ship, snapping circuits, frying wires,

“It’s been a good ride, my lady,” Lorca pats the ship’s conn. Waiting.

He sees it as it comes, and as the light approaches, he stretches his arms wide, embracing it. .

“You’re awake.”

He opens his eyes and sits up quickly in the bio bed glaring at a man in white medical Starfleet-issue scrubs.

“Who the hell are you, and where am I?”

“I’m Hugh Culber, and as for the where, well that part’s complicated,” the man tells him, taking a step back.

“Trust me, at this stage of the game, I doubt anything would surprise me,” Lorca grouses, getting down from the bed.

“Yeah well…about that,” Culber says, right as the doors to sickbay open. Lorca’s eyes go to where Hugh’s are looking and he comes face-to-face with…himself.

Now he knows for sure that he’s dead

“You son-of-a-bitch,” he mutters crossing his arms. “How the hell did you get here?”

“I died,” Gabriel tells him.

“Took you long enough,” Lorca says, bitterly. “You know how much of your shit I had to deal with in your universe?”

“Yeah, well, yours ain’t much better, buddy.”

Hugh looks between the two of them and just shakes his head, moving back.

The two Gabriels glare at each other, angrily.

“Look—Captain Lorca, I get you’re angry. None of us volunteered to be here, but” Culber looks to Gabriel. “I think you two have some things to discuss. And for the record, sir,” he can’t help but call Lorca ‘sir,’ “unlike us, you are not dead. Just passing through.”

Gabriel rubs his temples, growing annoyed with himself. No, really. Lorca is an asshole. And his patience is getting thin. But when Lorca accuses him of murdering Michael, it’s the final straw.

“I didn’t kill her!” He yells, turning on himself. “How dare you judge me, you don’t know shit about me!”

“Oh, I know enough,” Lorca tells him. “You betray your emperor, you take her daughter, and you murder her, stage a coup and I get to spend the past year on the run for the crimes of a traitor.”

They argue over this. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

“So what about you?” Gabriel challenges. “What about Katrina?” After all, turnabout is fair play.

At the name, Lorca’s eyes get flinty. “What did you do to her?”

Gabriel smirks. “Only what she wanted me to do.”

Lorca is first to swing, his fist finding Gabriel’s face. A face so much like his own. But it’s pointless. Really. They’re equally matched and trade body blows and kicks until they collapse, both breathing hard, exhausted and feeling like defeated men.

“I loved Katrina,” Lorca says defensively, feeling the burn behind his eyes at the mention of her name. “If you hurt her…”

“YOU hurt her,” Gabriel pants out. “Admit it. All those years you went—kept pushing it off, pushing it back…delaying it. If you wanted her, you should have said something decades ago. THEN you get mad when she asks for five more years? You had 25! Don’t think I don’t know. You made it all so clear in your personal logs. So who is more wrong? I adored my Michael. I treated her like the queen she was MEANT to be, and you don’t know the cost…” at that, even Gabriel stops, not able to bring himself to say the other thing.

It gets quiet as they stare up into nothingness.

“What do I need to know before I go back,” Lorca says, voice low. Will I be arrested on-sight for some shit YOU did?”

“Depends,” Gabriel tells him, honestly. “You’re crew may not be too happy to see you.”

His crew. At that, Lorca turns his head. “You were on the Buran? What did you do to my crew?” He asks, with a sick feeling in his gut, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“You saw what happened to you when you got to my universe,” Gabriel says, voice flat. “I did what I had to do to survive in yours.”

There’s a fresh wave of anger-fueled adrenaline and at the words Lorca moves fast, jumping on Gabriel and wrapping his hands around his own neck, squeezing tight.

“You sick, son-of-a-bitch,” he growls, the grip tightening as the knuckles begin to show under the skin. He squeezes, watching as Gabriel’s face turns red, then gradually darker, the blood rushing to eyes so much like his own, tinting them red. His counterpart, gags, thrashing, hands gripping his own but the grip doesn’t break and he watches with icy calm as gradually, Gabriel’s body stops thrashing, the hands around his stop clawing, the breathing stops…and finally, the imposter goes limp and Lorca is left to stand, dazedly, his own heart in his throat, looking down on what remains of himself.

His crew. Dead. Murdered, and the last face they likely saw, he knows, was his.

The nausea hits immediately, sending him stumbling, reeling and he turns away from Gabriel’s body and begins heaving. Nothing but bile. After a moment of this, he slumps against a wall and slides down, wearier and heavier than he’s ever been before. Lorca closes his eyes. Maybe this really is death, he thinks. So be it.

Hugh comes in and looks on in disapproval at both Gabriel Lorcas lying on the floor, bloodied and beaten.

“Time’s up, Captain,” he says, breaking Lorca out of his despair.

“Up for what?” Lorca asks.

At that, Gabriel’s eyes open and he gets to his feet, rubbing his neck. “Fuck, that hurt,” he rasps then, at the look of shock on Lorca’s face, starts to laugh. It turns into a hacking cough.

Hugh ignores him. “You should be going now,” he tells Lorca. “Just thank your lucky ion storms you won’t be stuck here, with him. Follow me.”

The doctor reaches a hand down and the captain takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up. The two men start walking to the door, past Gabriel who stands there with a strange look on his face. He’s not laughing anymore. Or coughing.

“Wait,” he calls to them striding over and stopping them before they can walk through the door, blocking it with his body. For this, he speaks directly to Lorca, his voice low, carrying with it urgency. The games are done. This, what he has to say now, is serious.

“You’ll see them both,” Gabriel warns himself. “Your Katrina. My Michael. They’re both there.”

“I don’t give a damn about Michael,” Lorca snaps. “I need to fix whatever the fuck you did to Katrina.”

But Gabriel shakes his head.

“Look,” he sighs, knowing himself and trying to decide how to convince Lorca to give him this one thing. “I just need you to tell my Michael the truth. It’s all down there,” he gestures. “In my quarters. In my files. You know which ones,” he says…stopping short of saying the other word. Please. Lorca studies him a long moment, and they speak, not with words but with other things. Gabriel knows himself. Lorca does too. Please, he asks himself. Hugh takes a step back, giving them space. It’s silent here, now as the mirrors of Lorca contemplate one another.

“Don’t make me…”Gabriel says quietly, reaching out to clasp Lorca’s wrist. “It’s important.” The grip tightens.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” Lorca nearly growls the words as h he snatches his hand away.

“PLEASE! There! I said it, are you satisfied now?” Because now, Gabriel isn’t so cocky. Now, he’s out of bluster and underneath that armor of arrogance is still a man. Reluctantly, Lorca nods. He will grant himself this because a part of him, grudgingly, understands. He knows what it has taken himself to even say the word “please.” He knows he had to humble himself. And that’s a tall order and in both universes, it seems, the word itself largely absent in both their vernaculars.

“Gabriel, Captain Lorca,” Hugh interjects. “We’re running out of time. The window is starting to close.”

“There are things there…not even you know,” Gabriel starts talking faster. “Just tell my Michael the truth. All I ask.”

Lora just nods, lips tight. But he’ll honor the request. Gabriel nods back, stepping aside and allowing them to move past. Culber steps out in front, guiding the way. They walk just a short distance and the doctor stops and turns to the captain.

“Yes?”

“I…have a request as well, if you could,” Hugh says, once they’re alone.

“Sure.” Because he really has no problem with Hugh.

“Tell Lieutenant Stamets I’ll be waiting for him at the opera. He’ll know what it means.”

“Will do, doctor,” Lorca extends to him a hand. “And thanks --” There’s no completing the sentence. He sees the white flash coming toward him and before he can speak again, it engulfs him.

#USS Archangels #star trek discovery #fanfiction #Reflections/TheOther #michael burnham x gabriel lorca #gabriel lorca x katrina cornwell #gabriel lorca #michael burnham #katrina cornwell

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exysexual · 7 years

Text

hs au (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(read on ao3)

That weekend, Andrew realizes that he might actually be able to attend college.

Cathleen greets him when he comes down to the kitchen late on Saturday, a bright smile already in place as she starts making him some pancakes. Andrew takes a seat at the table, watching her whisk and wondering what she would do if she found out he was gay.

“Cathleen,” he says after a long moment, as she generously distributes some chocolate chips in the batter. “Where do you think I should go to college?”

Cathleen purses her lips and pours some batter into the pan. A long moment later, she turns towards him with an unusually serious expression.

“Where do you have offers right now?”

Andrew picks at the paper napkin on the table in front of him. “Berkeley, Edgar Allen, Penn State, and UC Davis have all said that their admissions offices gave them the go ahead to recruit. And all of them would be pretty big scholarships.”

Cathleen flips the pancakes. The quiet sizzle on the stove is the only sound in the kitchen. Andrew collects the napkin scraps into a small mountain.

“They’re all good schools,” she says finally. “And you’d be able to afford any of them. You know Steve and I will help pay for your books and housing if it’s not covered.” Andrew stares at her in disbelief. “Edgar Allen and Penn are obviously better for Exy. Berkeley and UC Davis are closer to here. I guess it comes down to what you’d like to do after school. Do you want to pursue Exy or something else?”

She collects the first batch of pancakes on a plate and brings it over to the table as Andrew tries to process everything she just said. After a few bites, he finally collects himself enough to respond.

“I don’t know what I want.” He stuffs another bite into his mouth and directs his gaze away from the stove.

“Hey,” Cathleen murmurs softly, walking back over and gently squeezing his shoulder. Andrew consciously doesn’t tense up under her hand. “You’re only 17. You don’t have to know yet.”

They spend the rest of breakfast in a pensive silence, as Andrew wonders how long this kind of life can possibly go on before the other shoe drops.

The track season starts up in earnest, and Neil is happy for the distraction. The team is pretty close, and continue to expect more from him than he really understands. He finds himself going over to Diego’s house for a “pasta party” the day before their first meet under duress.

“Josten! You made it!” Todd yells when Neil shuffles into the room where everybody is seated, most distributed on a giant couch with a few left to sit on the ground.

“You assholes wouldn’t shut up about it,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t aware I actually had a choice.”

“You always have a choice in this life,” Phil announces solemnly. “Gotta exercise your radical freedom, bro.”

“God, Phil, just because you’re going to be a douchey philosophy major in college doesn’t mean you have to inflict it on the rest of us now,” Connor groans, hitting Phil on the shoulder. "Save that shit for the coeds next year."

The rest of the evening passes in a similar state of teenage boy stupidity. Neil is at least happy about the massive quantity of pasta provided, and tries not to be obvious about the last time it was that he ate that much food.

He doesn’t pay a massive attention to the dumb gossip and school stuff they talk about, the upperclassmen imparting wisdom to the freshmen mixed in with obviously made-up shit. Given the separate school buildings for under- and upperclassmen, he doesn’t know the sophomores or freshmen very well, but they seem even more boring than the guys he spends time with.

Diego’s mom turns up just as the pasta runs out, and Connor stops his story about the BJ Lily Ruiz gave him at a party the weekend before midsentence.

“Hola, mama,” Diego greets, padding over to her and conversing in muttered, rapid Spanish for a minute. Neil watches silently, repressing the harsh memories of his own mother that threaten to wash over him.

“Thanks for having us over, Mrs. Garcia!” Todd grins when the pair separate. Mrs. Garcia offers him a soft smile in return.

“You know you’re always welcome here, Todd Jiang.” Her eyes flicker over the assembled boys, pausing briefly on Neil. “You all are.”

Neil looks down at the bowl in his lap and bites his lip. It’s too cozy in the small home, with its pictures on the wall and mismatched cutlery, for him to relax.

“And Diego, remember that we’re going to the church Saturday afternoon to help prepare lunches for the homeless,” Mrs. Garcia says before offering another smile for the group and friendly wave.

“Bye, Mrs. Garcia,” Todd calls after her, and Diego punches his arm as he settles back into his seat.

“Dude, stop trying to flirt with my mom.”

Todd rolls his eyes. “I’m not flirting, dumbass. It’s called manners.”

“Pretty sure you’re flirting,” Connor chimes in, kicking his legs up and resting them on one of the freshman’s heads. The kid freezes, obviously not sure what to do, and Connor snickers.

“Fuck off,” Todd grouses.

“Ah man, if you’re busy Saturday afternoon, you can’t make our Mario Kart tournament,” Phil realizes with a frown. Diego deflates a bit.

“Ugh, I didn’t even realize that,” he groans. “Instead, I’ll be making 120 PB&J sandwiches with Andrew fucking Doe.”

Neil tries not to visibly tense up at the name.

“What?” Phil asks.

“His foster parents are, like, super religious,” Diego shrugs. “He’s around a bunch.”

“That’s so weird.” Phil looks like he can’t wrap his head around it.

“Why?” Neil wonders aloud before he can stop himself.

“You weren’t there when he transferred last year,” Todd says. “It was so fucking weird, dude. Like, he wouldn’t talk to anybody, and he threatened this one guy who started talking to him in the locker room, and he always wears those armbands? I guess he’s mellowed a bit since then, but he only ever talks to the Exy team, and it never seems like he actually, like, enjoys anything. Plus, he’s, like, super fucking talented, isn’t he? But it seems like he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Jesus, this team needs to start fining the use of the word ‘like,’” Phil complains. “We could buy new sweatshirts after two weeks between Jiang and Mehta.”

Connor and Todd protest simultaneously, and the conversation derails further from there.

When Neil finally excuses himself a while later, pretending that he’d promised his mom to not be home too late, he’s still turning over the new information he has of Andrew Doe.

For the first time, he thinks about how Andrew had dealt with his panic attack, the quiet capability of his words and mannerisms, and wonders where he learnt to do that. For some reason, he hopes that it’s not from firsthand experience.

Foster parents. It made sense, with the “Doe” and everything, but it’s a bit surprising that it’s never come up before.

Neil tries to imagine life moving from home to home without any constants to rely on. Even on the run, he’d always had his mother beside him and the understanding that she would protect him with her dying breath.

Maybe that’s why Oakland has been so hard on him, Neil muses as he walks up to his makeshift home. He’s lost the only thing he thought he could depend on, nevermind all the ways he’d gone back on his promises to her in the past eight months.

Regardless, he continues wondering what it’s like to be Andrew Doe as he gets ready for bed and stares up at the ceiling. Has he forgotten how odd Neil is already, with college on the horizon and an Exy racket in hand? Has he accepted that Neil is just another stressed high school student?

Neil tells himself that he hopes so.

Andrew is still turning all his newfound college options over in his head a few days later. He spends Stats actually paying attention because he’s sick of trying to imagine himself at Penn Sate or UC Davis or Berkeley.

The problem is that he has no experience making real choices for himself, has no idea how to deal with pros and cons and decisions. He can’t remember wanting anything for himself besides staying away from the Spears. He knows that he must have wanted things once, when he was just a kid and didn’t realize all the ways the world could fuck you over.

Something in his gut recoils at the thought of Edgar Allen or Penn State, playing Exy all day and talking about Exy all night and being nationally known for Exy. He barely cares about Exy, and making it the center of his world seems like it could drive him a bit crazy.

But if he doesn’t center himself around Exy, what else is there? What the fuck is he supposed to do with a life he never imagined himself actually having?

The idea that the Jamesons aren’t going to kick him out on his birthday, that they’re going to continue supporting him in college– Andrew has dealt time and time again with others disappointing the unrealistic expectations he has of them, but he hasn’t been on this end of hopes in a long while.

He remembers how Cass used to smile at him, the way she helped him with homework–

Better to focus on the future, ambiguous though it may be.

He wanders out to the Math Stoop during lunch that day, desperate for a cigarette and an escape from Tekien’s aggressive Exy talk for a little while.

He’s sitting there, staring blankly at the cracked concrete beneath his feet, when the door opens and a hesitant Neil Josten joins him. He takes another drag and remains staring straight ahead as Neil sits down next to him.

“Uh, hey, Andrew,” he says after a minute. Andrew nods in reply and refuses to look over at the other kid. “I was actually hoping to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

Andrew flicks him a considering look and cocks his head curiously. He refuses to get his hopes up.

“The other day in the library, you said a bunch of stuff that kinda helped me after my panic attack,” Neil continues, picking at one of the holes in his jeans and avoiding eye contact. “I was just wondering if you had any advice if it happens again.”

Andrew looks back at the concrete and breathes in the familiar rush of nicotine. “It’s all about grounding techniques and finding something that works for you.” He looks back at Neil, who’s staring straight back. His dull brown eyes remain incongruous with the rest of his face. “But usually it’s somebody or something that’s exterior to you that breaks through. You can’t necessarily do anything to stop it yourself.”

Neil frowns and nods thoughtfully. “Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.” Andrew flicks some ash away and watches it drift to the ground.

“How’s the college stuff going, then?”

Andrew looks back to Neil and wonders what his angle is. The other boy has produced a protein bar from his duffle bag and is munching on it, gaze somewhere above the gym building.

“Fine.” Andrew takes another drag.

“What’s your top choice?”

Andrew casts another scrutinizing look at Neil, but he still looks like he doesn’t actually care. It’s the most Andrew’s ever heard him initiate conversation, though, so he decides to roll with it.

“Not sure,” Andrew answers truthfully. “I’m not that into Edgar Allen, but everybody acts like that’s sacrilegious.”

Neil tenses up minutely. “They’re ranked number one, right?”

“Yeah.” Andrew drops the remnants of his cigarette to the ground and watches it smolder. “But there’s more to life than Exy.” Well, he imagines there must be, even if he can't nail down what that really means. Neil remains silent. “Have you ever played?”

The other boy takes another bite of his bar and Andrew watches out of the corner of his eye as he swallows slowly.

“Nah, I’ve never been that interested in it,” Neil responds. Andrew hears a small tremor to his voice, though, and wonders why Neil could possibly be lying about something like that.

They spend the rest of the period in silence, but it’s not unpleasant. Andrew has almost relaxed by the end of it.

Mac pulls him aside during practice and tells him that there’s a call for him in the office. Not sure what to expect, Andrew wanders into the vaguely familiar room and drops into the rolling chair before picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this Andrew Doe?”

“Yep.”

Some of Cathleen’s tips about professionalism have yet to really resonate.

“This is David Wymack, coach of the Palmetto State Foxes in South Carolina.” Andrew resists snorting. The Foxes are notoriously shitty. “It’s probably a long shot, but I just thought we could throw our hat into the ring. You might not know much about our team– “

“Just that it’s always dead last in the division and takes on more charity cases than my church.”

Wymack sighs. “We’re an up and coming program. We’ve got some real talent in some of the newer members, and you’d be a great addition to the team. And if you accept, we’d offer a full ride, room and board included, not to mention some money for travel. And as a team, we work hard, but there’s still room for academics here. It’s not just about Exy.”

Andrew twists the phone cord around his finger and remains silent.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just know that we’d do more to support you once you’re here than most schools, and that we genuinely care about the mental health of our players. We’re willing to negotiate additional terms if you need them.”

“Thanks for the call,” Andrew says, trying to remain impassive and remember at least a little of what Cathleen had told him.

“Let us know by May 1st,” Wymack tells him. “We’ll fax over a sample contract so you can take a look, but know that we’re flexible about it. I really think the Foxes could be the team for you, Doe. Being a Fox is more than being a reject or an Exy player. It’s a second chance.”

“I’ll let you know if I need one.”

Andrew hangs up the phone and stares at it for a moment longer before heading back out to the court and ignoring Mac’s questions.

God dammit, like he needed more fucking things to think about.

He throws himself into practice like he cares about it and not just forgetting everything else. Cheng gives him a high five at the end of it.

Cathleen listens attentively when he tells her about the phone call later. Steve smiles and congratulates him. Neither tells him what to do. He can’t decide if he’s grateful that they trust him, or wishes that they would just decide for him.

He traces the scars on his wrist that night as he tries to fall asleep, and wonders how he’s supposed to create meaning for himself, how he’s supposed to know magically what’s right for him. He falls asleep without finding any answers.

#am i supposed to keep linking to like all the previous posts?? what's the etiquette??#i know nothing #hope y'all like this thanks for your support! <3 #my writing #tfc #andreil #the foxhole court #high school au #my authors note on the ao3 chapter is outrageous i'm so sorry guys #it's a stressful time and thus i am even odder than usual

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geek-gem · 7 years

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Well I've seen the new Loud House episodes. Which are, "ARRGH You For Real" if I got that title spelt right and, "Garage Banned" including by mistake went to my blog first then started this. I know I said I don't really make these anymore like about The Loud House. Yet I felt cause of these two mainly the first got me thinking. I wanted to make these a bit again. But I'm gonna try to be professional about it man. I'm gonna say this I really liked the 2nd one, "Garage Banned" quite a lot. Reminded me of, "Lock N Loud" another episode I really liked. But the first episode. I understand this is what they went with yet I'm just bothered by how it was written. Also this isn't really a review but...kind of I guess man yet mainly a reaction. Well before deciding to talk about these episodes. Decided to say hi to my dad cause to show I'm here...weird yet went okay talk about...using Uber... freedom...and driving myself...he wants me to drive a car and I think he does not like Uber much...felt weird yet good we both smiled at the end. Now about the first episode were gonna talk about. I didn't like it much. Including well...didn't laugh much yet maybe once I thought something was silly. Yet my main problem with the episode was I guess the moral well just what they written. I'm gonna spoil stuff for these episodes. What the episode is and I'm gonna say I liked that whole, "ARRGH" if that's all the right letters that it's kind of like parodying the real life ghost hunting shows. Including I like a show like Ghost Adventures. Before this even last week when I saw these episodes confirmed I was a bit bothered well I think yeah last week was worried the episode was gonna be about Lincoln and Clyde finding out the show they really like is a fake. Including I'm cautious about shows and...I don't know I feel that bothers me. Turns out that's the episode. They find out that the show is basically a fake, theirs no actual ghost hunting, and it's set up. Which really displeases Lincoln and Clyde. It pisses them off while Lincoln can deal with it, Clyde on the other hand can't. Such as going so far and theirs a sign of it that he doesn't wanna talk to Lincoln. Yet Clyde starts throwing a lot of his stuff away and he stops believing in a lot of things. Which upsets his parents again love those guys I guess they were silly forgot. Including Hunter the guy the host feels bad almost left better about this, so Lincoln and him decide to trick Clyde that their is actually ghosts. Yet turns out their is a ghost and Lincoln and Hunter are shocked about this. Why I didn't like this episode much...really I'm bothered how they went this route instead of trying to be a bit more mature. That things may be not what they seem. To be perfectly honest I was expecting the episode when I found out the show was faking all that stuff that Lincoln and Clyde would reveal to everyone it's fake like even call it out on live TV well at that place. Thus also trying to get the show canceled... Yeah that's really harsh and having people lose their jobs and I can see people's reactions. Okay I'm bothered by just how it was written. I felt like it could of been better of having Clyde mature a little. That even if some stuff is fake, it's okay, including just...I guess grow up and shit. I really don't know and I guess I'm sounding hypocritical. But I felt the episode could of been better. Including that whole Clyde maturing thing and I seriously like the little guy. I understand the whole child thing but still... But what I wanted to say the whole Clyde maturing thing. Including this week theirs a episode I remember now, "Change Of Heart" they revealed the synopsis for it. People and I'm even kind of thinking where this is the time Clyde realizes or I remember maybe a post on Tumblr about Lori talking to him about it. About Clyde letting go of his crush of Lori...almost put Wendy. While I'm honestly okay with Clyde having a crush on Lori. Gonna say I can relate to that and find it funny at times. I can understand why people are kind of sick of it. Also a part of me hope it doesn't. Just the title card just makes it seem like were finally gonna have a episode where we address that now. Now, "Garage Banned" I liked this episode. Including it's a surprise I guess like, "Lock N Loud" which I liked too. The story is Lori moving to the garage cause she's sick of being disturbed by her siblings. Yet when realizes she misses them and doesn't wanna go crawling back. She tries to do stuff to get out of the house yet the family keeps finding ways to help. Including one last try with Mr. Grouse helping yet he backs up into his house I think by mistake and like, "Lock N Loud" kind of reveals what Lori has been doing and they accept her just... Really it's a nice episode. Yet I'm a bit bothered by Lori thinking her family will not let it down...really I'm 19 and I need to understand this on their level or some shit. Or the fact I'm bothered at this at times. Yet hey the way it goes on. It's funny and to be honest I thought the ghost Lucy almost left Lisa talked to was gonna reveal Lori's been tricking them so she can get out. Yet guess not. Honestly it's funny at quite some parts. Also...I seriously liked it. Really it depends entertainment can be subjective I suppose. Such as me finding it funny Luan uses her dummy to threaten Lincoln yet bothered...okay he's a 11 year old kid and I gonna stop thinking Superman or Sonic is gonna pop out of nowhere being like stop don't you care so that. I didn't really think that maybe random shit such oh I can think of worse people then you or more serious shit like Superman dying okay why is this part of this. Really I liked the episode. It was funny and heart warming. Another surprise episode that I liked a lot. I hope and...no seriously I worry please more good episodes this week gonna stop being pessimistic about this shit. So just talking and thinking about this even paced between episodes just thinking. Including I decided to not see Welcome To The Wayne cause I'm honestly not interested or care for the show...unless if people say it's good or meh I'll check it if I feel like fuck it I'll check it. Really me being critical or just bothered by these episodes. I like the show yet...okay I'm just bothered by how some episodes are written. Including I'm more critical over this show a bit compared to Steven Universe. Also your listening or reading this from a guy who takes a blue hedgehog seriously at times and wants to give the series more meaning cause he's passionate about the series. I'm talking about the Sonic series no no one's dumb head...my head at times. Enter here and got tags down okay is there a Loud House critical or...anyone or me okay silly or...kind of smiled. I need to feed my dog

#loud house #the loud house

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junker-town · 7 years

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Ranking what we’ll miss the most about intentional walks

It’s not all about intentional walks gone awry, you know. There are other, simpler things to miss.

I finally found someone who is glad the pitch-free intentional walk is here. After a couple days of being in an internet bubble, listening to people grouse and grouse, I talked to someone who might — might — watch one game every year on purpose. She asked what I was working on, and when I told her, she said, “Good. That always seemed like a waste of time.”

My follow-up question was if the rule change would make her watch more baseball games. She laughed at me.

So it goes for the embattled pitch-free intentional walk, the gimmick that will save us a minute in every other baseball game, while getting rid of so much. What will we miss the most about it? A ranked list should help us sort through the emotions. In order from “we’ll miss it a lot” to “we’ll miss it so damned much.”

5. The yippy pitchers

This is one of the most common examples of intentional-walk chicanery, where professional baseball men who are paid millions of dollars to throw baseballs suddenly throw them like an Olympic curler throwing a ceremonial first pitch.

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It’s not hard to throw a baseball 60 feet until it is. I coached softball last year, and I hit the same girl three times during batting practice. Not anyone else. Not my daughter. Just this one girl, over and over again. It was the hardest thing in the world for me to throw a softball underhand from 20 feet away in that specific moment. We settled out of court.

Now, I’m not a professional athlete. But I am a registered brain-haver, and that makes me qualified to discuss just how weird brains are. Because, friends, brains are weird. They will mess. you. up. And every so often, a pitcher has trouble tossing baseballs softly to his catcher, and it’s a damned treat.

4. The ruses

These are rare because they are likely to lead to baseballs being thrown at your head. I was lucky enough to attend a game with an intentional-walk ruse. I don’t remember the specific moment, probably because I was zoning out during the intentional walk, which ruins the thesis, but I remember being so, so mad about it later. Or am I conflating two separate games? Maybe these aren’t so special after

NO. It is Manfred that’s the problem here, not me. Not intentional walks. Look at how happy Tony Peña is here:

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The best part was that the inning wasn’t even over and he reacted like that. And then had to issue a real intentional walk that came around to score that inning and help the other team win.

He played just five more games in his career after that. Was that because he was ostracized and blacklisted? Yes. Yes, probably. That and he was a 40-year-old catcher, but there some unwritten-rule violations you can’t tolerate.

Dude was a serial offender, you know.

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Of course, the most famous ruse came in the 1972 World Series, and it featured two future Hall of Famers.

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The common thread with these is that the batter isn’t even mad. Just stunned. And a little embarrassed. But we don’t have one where the batter is yelling profanities and calling the pitcher yella.

We were owed one of those.

We will never get it.

3. The hits

Or, rather, the balls put in play. There was one last year, after all.

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This is not a new phenomenon. Someone tracked down more than a dozen examples and published them in a 2011 SABR journal. Cap Anson did it. Willie Mays did it. Pete Rose did it. Ty Cobb did it against Eddie Plank, and Home Run Baker did it against Walter Johnson. This is a rich, rich tradition that deserves respect.

Two of the swings resulted in the batter reaching on an error. Now that’s some butter-slicked baseball that we can all get behind.

They’re rare, of course, but baseball exists for the rare. When a reliever hits a home run in extra innings, we remember it. When a catcher strikes out a home run hitter in extra innings, we remember it. And about once a decade, there’s an intentional walk that catches a little too much of the plate, and the hitter is ready for it.

But someone wants to save a minute every other game. In the past, we’ve been stuffing those minutes into a piggy bank, like they were pennies, then we would break it for a pizza party every 10 years. Now we have those minutes and we can do whatever we want with them.

Just like you can’t buy a pizza with a single penny, so it goes for the minutes that we’ll save. You don’t get them back at the end of your life like an extra pinball, you know.

2. The potential for anything

One of the most underrated losses. This is a line from Contact, when an astronaut is given a suicide pill.

There may be unforeseen mechanical failure. You may be marooned, unable to return. There are a thousand reasons we think of for the occupant of machine to have this — but mostly it's for the reasons we can't think of.

That’s what we’re missing. The chicanery we can’t think of.

In the 1984 World Series, Padres manager Dick Williams ordered Goose Gossage to issue an intentional walk. Gossage hesitated or refused, depending on which account you read. There was a mound visit. Williams relented.

This was the result:

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If you scroll back a minute, you’ll hear Vin Scully and Gene Tenace riffing about that Bench/Fingers ruse from the ‘72 World Series. The intentional walk and the decision not to issue it was a part of the story, not a commercial everyone was trying to fast-forward.

If that situation came up today, Williams would have wiggled four fingers at the umpire, and Gossage would have huffed for a few seconds. That’s it. That’s the story.

In 1976, Rod Carew was being walked with a runner on second in the 11th inning. This was in a stretch where he had hit .350 or better in each of the last three seasons, so you can get the strategy. But Carew swung at the first two pitches. Not real swings, and not with the intent to put the ball in play. He did it just to get the two strikes on him.

“Here. I’ll spot you two strikes.”

It was hubris. Earned, hilarious hubris of the most magnificent order from one of baseball’s greatest hitters. The intentional walk went on as planned, and the Twins won the game in the next at-bat anyway.

But one of these years, there would have been a pitcher or manager who took the hitter up on that challenge. Even Tony Gwynn was a .267 hitter with two strikes, and that’s just about the best in baseball history. So if the hitter is going to spot you that — if he’s going to give you all the leverage he can — maybe there would have been a manager who would take it.

1. The booing

Up there? A bunch of rare butterflies. We like to talk about them because they’re rare, but we’re not going to wait around for them in every game. They’re not something we can count on.

The booing of the home crowd, though, happens every time.

We disagree with this decision.

Yes, yes. Let the disagreement pour out of you.

Your pitcher isn’t good enough to get our hitter out.

Let the anger flow.

You’re chicken, you know that? Yellow. And your mother regrets having you.

We’re teetering a little too far, so bring it back just a bit, but yes, good, this is the proper response to an intentional walk.

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It’s sustained. The shame covers you like a film. The crowd is screaming at you. The people above the dugout are saying things you can process, and these are mean things.

Those were not seconds that people were wishing they were somewhere else. Those were moments in which people were engaged with the game, actively connecting with it. The vitriol increases with the visibility of the player. When you’re there to watch a Mark McGwire or Barry Bonds or scorching-hot Josh Hamilton, you’re being robbed of your entertainment.

Now the player will just sort of appear on first base. Neat.

The gains will be hard to notice. What we’ll miss will be intangible, but it’ll be easy to notice. Baseball is doing a silly thing, and they’re justifying it because it’s a part of a larger, worthwhile war against tedious baseball. It just wasn’t necessary, though.

(If you want to be less angry, here’s something to cleanse the palate. Look at this pile of hateful baseball. At least this will leave, too.)

(function(){var f=document.getElementById("95f88"),a=parseFloat(f.getAttribute('data-aspect')),w=f.offsetWidth,h=Math.round(w/a),s=f.getAttribute('data-src');f.removeAttribute('id');s+='width='+w+'&height='+h;f.setAttribute('src',s);f.style.height=h+'px';})();

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rachelkaser · 3 years

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Stay Golden Sunday: Job Hunting

Rose loses her job at the grief center and faces ageism when she searches for a new one. Blanche tries to lose three pounds.

Picture It...

Blanche is cutting vegetables while singing “Sleep, Kentucky Babe.” Sophia comes in (not wearing her glasses, for some reason) and is upset to see there’s no pepperoni in the fridge. She rejects both Blanche’s offer of celery stuffed with cottage cheese and Dorothy’s offer of chicken, as both repeat on her. Blanche, meanwhile, is trying to lose three extra pounds she’s gained.

Rose comes in, distraught (Sophia is, once again, indifferent), and tells the Girls that they’ve closed her grief counseling center. Blanche and Dorothy are immediately concerned that Rose has lost her job, but Rose is more worried about the fact that her former patients won’t have anyone to counsel them anymore. She says she plans to help them find other places to go, and then she’ll focus on finding a job. Dorothy is skeptical.

ROSE: I’m dependable, friendly, loyal, eager. *leaves the kitchen* DOROTHY: That’s great. If she learns to catch a frisbee in her teeth, she can get work as a Golden Retriever.

Later, Dorothy goes out to the lanai to read, and finds a strange man sitting there. He introduces himself as Milton, and Rose arrives to say that Milton is one of her former patients from the center, and even tells Dorothy his whole life story right in front of him. She sends him off and tells him to call her anytime, day or night -- the last three words sending Dorothy into a panic.

Dorothy confronts Rose about her job hunt and Rose says she hasn’t started looking, too preoccupied with helping the center’s patients. Sophia passes her phone messages from the patients and Dorothy gets one from an old high school acquaintance she had a crush on named Barry Glick. He’s visiting Miami and wants to get together, which sends Dorothy over the moon. Rose is drowning in her patients’ despair off to the side.

BLANCHE: I hate phone calls in the middle of the night! Now I’ll never get back to sleep. I’m as jumpy as a virgin at a prison rodeo. DOROTHY: Boy, that’s … pretty jumpy.

Dorothy bangs on Rose’s door that night to wake her, as Milton is calling in the wee hours. Blanche and Dorothy, irritated, retreat to the living room, where Sophia is sitting in the dark, and grouse about the situation -- Blanche has already lost one pound and doesn’t want to eat her insomnia, while Dorothy wants to look good for Barry. They decide to confront Rose, and sit her down when she comes out and tell her she needs to focus on finding a job. Rose tearfully confesses she has been trying to find one, but she’s been rejected after several interviews for her age. Distraught, she runs to her room and slams the door.

Dorothy and Blanche follow Rose to her room to talk to her about the situation. Dorothy tells her she’s recovered from a major life change once, after her husband died and left her as a housewife with no work experience. Rose says she’s older now, and Dorothy offers to help her figure out what she’s doing wrong in the interviews. Rose says she’s got one in the morning for a Hospital Administrator job, and Dorothy reviews her resume -- which stinks. She and Blanche find ways to pad the resume out, giving Rose some more confidence. Unable to fall back asleep, all three go to the kitchen for a snack.

BLANCHE: Oh I can’t fall asleep now. DOROTHY: Still at the rodeo, Blanche? ROSE: I can’t sleep either. Why don’t I make us all some warm milk? After I drink milk, I go right to sleep. BLANCHE: I can think of something else after which I go right to sleep. Huh, Dorothy? DOROTHY: … during.

In the kitchen, they somehow justify getting a three-course meal on the table, including our very first shared cheesecake (and Sophia’s precious pepperoni). Dorothy talks about her date with Barry, and how she wanted him to be her first lover. This leads into a lengthy discussion about their first lovers -- Stan was Dorothy’s, Charlie was Rose’s, and Someone-Whose-Name-Starts-With-B was Blanche’s. Rose’s first time was her wedding night, and she was appalled because she’d never seen a naked man before. Stan convinced Dorothy he was being shipped to Korea and “it would mean so much” and nine months later she gave birth. Rose not-so-subtly hints it took years for her to orgasm during sex, and Blanche is completely baffled, as her Southern heat gave her urges. The Girls transition from a full dinner to a full breakfast.

The next day, Blanche flirts with Milton on the lanai. He tells her to abandon her diet and they agree to a date later. Sophia comes out on the lanai, followed shortly by Dorothy, who says her date with Barry went very well. Blanche wants to know if he lives up to her high school fantasies, but Dorothy replies in the negative: Barry is gay. Sophia claims she’s always known that. Dorothy says at least no other woman can have him either.

SOPHIA: *about Milton* I thought he belonged to the other one. BLANCHE: Well I’m sure Rose won’t mind one bit. SOPHIA: He’s a man. It’s not like sharing a yogurt.

Rose joins them, all smiles. She didn’t get the hospital admin job, but she did find a job when she was out for a float after her failed interview: She’s now a waitress at a coffee shop. It’s not the job Blanche and Dorothy wanted for her, but at least she’ll be working and earning money. They congratulate her. Blanche asks Rose about Milton, and Rose says he’s just her client -- she could never date him, as he’s only interested in fat woman. The episode ends on Blanche’s furious face.

“Hell, if I’m gonna have cookies, I’m gonna have cheesecake!”

Usually, I’m on board with a Golden Girls Very Special Episode when it tackles relevant issues, but something about this episode -- ostensibly one about ageism in the job market -- just doesn’t land particularly well. I didn’t really love it as a child, and I don’t really love it as an adult, but I think it’s for entirely different reasons. I suspect there was some behind-the-scenes drama about this episode I haven’t been able to fully investigate, but suffice to say this episode is a throwback to the beginning of the season, when the show was much less certain of itself. That said, it’s saved from two-slice infamy by some very good lines and gags.

BLANCHE: You probably haven’t noticed it, but I’ve put on three pounds. SOPHIA: On each side.

I’m still not sure why I didn’t like it as a kid -- I think the fact that Sophia, who was my favorite, is in so little of the episode was part of it. Sophia’s role in this episode is basically to make weird remarks and hover on the periphery -- literally in the case of the living room and lanai scenes -- of the episode and make the occasional bon mot. She’s not in the extended kitchen scene where the Girls eat their way through a three-course meal (we’ll get back to that scene in a minute), so I think I was puzzled why this episode forgot about her.

As an adult, I can pinpoint a few more concrete reasons I’m not in love. Keep in mind I’m biased, as I was recently laid off and back on the job market, but I suspect that Rose’s problem might not be ageism. I’m not trying to be mean here, but the problem might be that Rose is trying to find a job with a community college degree and a 32-year gap in work history, and the fact that the episode doesn’t really seem to understand that is a little disconcerting.

ROSE: They closed the center. BLANCHE: Not your grief counseling center? DOROTHY: No, the Kennedy Space Center. She wanted to be the first Lutheran on the Moon.

I don’t plan to fully talk about the episode before the official SGS, but I think it’s necessary to fully give context here: Rose will get another episode based around age discrimination in the job market in Season 5 called “Rose Fights Back.” Suffice to say I think it’s much better than this one, because at least in that episode it makes it clear that the only reason Rose is having problems is because of people’s reaction to her age. But this episode is much less clear, and in fact, based on the one job we see Rose actually applying for, I think she may be aiming a little high here.

To be clear, you can do alright with a Home-Ec degree and business training. There are a lot of jobs you can reasonably get with those qualifications. “Hospital Administrator” isn’t one of them, and Dorothy’s attempts to fluff up Rose’s resume don’t do anything but draw attention to the huge gaps in her work history. “32 years with the same employer?” There is not an interviewer in the world who won’t ask which employer that is, and who is Rose supposed to say? Her husband?

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I know I wasn’t alive in the 80s, but I refuse to believe it was so alien a time that someone with Rose’s qualifications would be able to get that job. Heck, if she lived in the modern day, getting a job at the Fountain Rock coffee shop would be a coup.

There are also a few continuity errors in this episode: For starters, Charlie goes from having died 15 years ago to 5 years ago. Rose will later get be a grief counselor with no explanation. I guess it’s possible that she could have gotten another job in the same field, but it’s still jarring that she’s a waitress for all of five minutes.

DOROTHY: I am so glad that my date with Barry is tomorrow. The fat won’t have time to show. ROSE: It won’t? DOROTHY: No, it always takes a few days before it shows. ROSE: Where does it go in the meantime? DOROTHY: To Connecticut! How do I know where it goes? BLANCHE: With me, the minute it goes in my mouth, I balloon up. I can go out to dinner, and in the middle of the meal, my pants are cutting off my circulation so bad my feet are turning blue.

I don’t want to be a Negative Nancy, so I’ll add that everything in this episode is saved by the excellent jokes and lines. Some of the most iconic lines and exchanges happen in this episode, so it’s memorable for that reason alone. The best parts are probably Blanche’s enraged reaction faces, as seen in the image at the top. Also, when I discovered that this was actually the second episode filmed, that explained an awful lot -- for example, why this episode doesn’t balance all four actresses well, why the writing doesn’t feel as concise, and all the continuity errors. Even the way the episode looks makes sense after learning that little tidbit.

As much as I like that scene in the kitchen where the Girls talk about their romantic history -- and also eat their first cheesecake together! -- it really has very little to do with the rest of the episode, and it takes up quite a chunk of time. I guess that’s why I don’t consider this a Very Special Episode: The tone is just a bit too inconsistent. Five minutes after Rose is lamenting that she can’t find a job because of her age, and she’s talking about how it took her five years to have an orgasm with her husband. A different kind of tragedy, to be sure.

BLANCHE: You know, in the South, we mature faster. I think it’s the heat. DOROTHY: I think it’s the gin.

I can’t be certain, but I think there was some behind-the-scenes drama with director Paul Bogart, who was fired shortly after this episode was shot. I can only find a couple of references to this episode in Golden Girls Forever, one of which calls it “troubled.” Don’t take my word as gospel, but it’s what I suspect happened. Bogart was liked by Rue McClanahan and Bea Arthur, but didn’t direct Rose’s character very well, according to Betty White. He wanted her to yell and scream during her big moment, which wasn’t very Rose, but she tried until Jay Sandrich, director of the pilot, took her aside and told her to do it how she felt comfortable. Bogart apparently told the staff (including the writers): “Just give me the show in the beginning of the week, and by the end of the week, you’ll have an Emmy winner.” That boast did not go over well, especially since he didn’t really include the writers or the hands-on producers, and he only directed four episodes.

One last thing: The kitchen scene in this episode was expanded and adapted for the 1988 Royal Variety Performance. In adapting this, they got smart and gave Estelle Getty lines to say. Not only do you get to hear Sophia tell the very posh emcee, “Let’s find a pub and get drunk,” you also get to hear Blanche make her usual joke about watching the changing of the guard. I’ve heard it was the Queen Mother who requested them, as she was a fan. Not only can you see her meeting the Girls backstage, but Sophia even references her when leaving the stage: “Hey, just because you’re over 80 doesn’t mean you can’t go out on the town at night. Just ask that fine-looking lady up there in the expensive seats.”

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Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

Sophia’s line, which I’ve quoted more times than I can count:

DOROTHY: Ma, would you get Rose some water? SOPHIA: What is she gonna do with water? Has water ever made you feel better when you were upset? Have you ever heard anyone say, “Thank God, the water’s here?”

#golden girls #stay golden #rose nylund #blanche devereaux #dorothy zbornak #sophia petrillo #stay golden sunday #s01e22 #picture it #job hunting

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takadasaiko · 7 years

Text

Demons at the Door: Chapter Nine

FFN II AO3

Summary: Nez and Solomon uncover bad news all around, Reddington makes contingency plans, and Tom confronts his father.

Chapter Nine: Truth Will Out

As a rule, Matias Solomon didn't work with partners. He had an individual or individuals that he took orders from and often a team that took their cues from him, but he didn't like partners. Trust was expected. Equality. Give and take. Those weren't his forte.

He could have done this alone. He had no question in his mind about that. Pendergast was hardly in prime fighting condition anymore. A snatch and grab was well within his skill set, as was the interrogation to follow.

But there she was, and he had insisted on it.

Nez Rowan was a talented operative. She had good instincts and a clever, sharp mind. She was also more loyal than anyone Solomon had ever known, even after their recent run in in which she had chosen Tom Keen and Howard Hargrave over him. One choice did not wipe out all the others she had made, and she'd been the one at his bedside when he'd come around after Keen had shot him. She was the one that had made sure Scottie knew where to look for him.

"What are you thinking so hard on?" Nez's voice broke through and he looked around.

"Loyalties," he answered honestly.

"Thinking about screwing me over, Mattie?"

"Not for an instant," he murmured.

"What are you getting from this?"

He blinked at her. "I told you that you'd owe me a-"

"Favour, I know," she cut him off. "You're taking a risk here. I'm not an idiot. I know that your former employers would put you down if they ever caught up with you. Are you wanting Halcyon to take you back at the end of this?"

Solomon drew in a deep breath, thinking about the best way to answer as he screwed the suppressor onto his gun. "Well, I suppose that depends on who comes out on top, doesn't it?"

She chuckled, following his lead and readying her own weapon. She closed her eyes then and Solomon saw the conflict playing across her face. "Better say it before we go in."

"Zeke," she said at last.

"Who?"

"Long dreads, helped us infuriate Halcyon. You drew him out by shooting Vito and then put a bullet in his chest."

Solomon tilted his head in question. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see what you're holding against me. They shot at me, I shot at them. Are you upset I was a better shot?"

She rolled her eyes. "You knew who he was and targeted him."

He paused, letting the words roll around inside of his head before he decided that his respect for her earned her a little honesty. "You brought your drug dealer to a gunfight, Nez. Yes, I targeted him. Is this going to be a problem? If so, you need to say so now."

Nez didn't answer right away and Solomon loosed a breath, ready to call it off, but she spoke first. "No matter what happens, you don't lay a finger on Howard or Tom."

"Fine," he ground out.

"And you and me? This is just professional."

"Of course."

"Then we're good to go. Let's go get answers."

She brushed past him and Solomon hesitated only half a beat, trying to shake a feeling off that he couldn't quite pinpoint. They needed to focus. This was all about focus now.

Complications were a part of life. It was something that he'd learned early on and something that life continued to teach him. One complication after another, he overcame them. Step by step, brick by brick, he'd beaten back his enemies, built an empire, and protected the person he'd cared about most in the best way that he knew how. He'd given everything up for that cause and now it seemed that that life was taking everything back from him.

Time and again he'd underestimated Kate Kaplan, and by doing so his empire lay in rubble, the ashes still burning even after her death so that he would truly be left with nothing. When she'd mentioned a confidant, his mind had not gone to Elizabeth's husband. Tom had been caught up in his own family drama - a family that Reddington had tried to warn him away from, little good that did him - and off in New York City with it, but he'd dropped everything as soon as Kate called, apparently.

In hindsight it made sense that she would call him. He had a history of being entirely too willing to undermine Reddington with little regard for the consequences of his actions. It had nearly gotten Elizabeth and Agnes killed by Rostov, and now he was going to set a situation that already had no room for for a false step up for an explosion without ever being the wiser to it until it happened.

The worst part of it was that Tom likely thought he was doing the right thing, a concept he really should know better on after the life he'd lived, but as with everything close to him he was taking this personally and it'd skewed his judgement. He had seen himself as loyal to Bill McCready who had tried to kill him more than once for his betrayals and in his mind, Reddington had done the same to Kate Kaplan. It was a limited view, refusing to see the bigger picture, but if Red were putting a bet on what Tom had told himself to accept Kate's last request, that would likely be it.

Foolish, arrogant, and rash. Of all the traits he could have inherited from Howard, why did those have to be the ones that had come through?

"Raymond."

The Concierge of Crime looked up at the sound of Dembe's voice and spotted Elizabeth Keen making her way down the pier for their meeting that they had set. He hadn't spoken to her since Baz's funeral and couldn't be sure if her husband had shared the suitcase with her or not yet. It was possible, after their conversation at the funeral, that Tom really was hoping to give Reddington a chance to tell her himself. Well, he'd likely know more once they'd spoken. "Elizabeth, you're looking well today. Have a seat."

"It's been quiet around the Post Office with you in rebuild mode and Gale finally backing off."

"I wouldn't count Agent Gale out just yet. He's tenacious."

"He's something," Elizabeth groused, but her gaze slid over to him and Reddington could feel her studying him even as he focused on the waves beyond the pier. "How is the rebuild going?"

"Slowly and with great care. Has Harold sent you here to ask for a new Blacklister?"

"We won't turn you down if you have one, but no. I came to see you."

Reddington finally let his gaze shift to her and found a pair of blue eyes on him that reminded him painfully of Katarina's. They stared at him, the expression not quite open, but not closed off either. They'd entered into yet another chapter of this story they were living and with each new event things became…. complicated. Yet again.

"Or you're welcome to tell me something about my past."

That pulled a rough chuckle from him and he saw her own sly smile perk her lips up. "Marcus Fischer."

Elizabeth's smile faded just a little. "Who?"

"Your next Blacklister."

"Someone in the way of your rebuild?" she asked, though there was a little less judgment in her voice than usual.

"Perhaps, but it's a win win as long as the Bureau is still interested in putting criminals behind bars." He reached into his jacket pocket and extended an envelope. Elizabeth pried it open and pulled several documents from it. He spoke as she scanned them. "Fischer is one of the world's leading forgers. He has a team of experts at his disposal and, if you play it right, you will have a list of aliases to keep in your files that may lead you to countless criminals."

"Not your forger, I take it?"

"Heavens no."

"What do you get from him?"

Reddington flashed her a smile as he stood. "How is Agnes liking her bear?"

He watched her look like she might argue and then stop, her expression softening as she shook her head. "She loves it."

"Good," he murmured, blue eyes sweeping across the bay. For the moment it looked like they were in the clear. He just needed to make sure that it remained that way.

Liz tossed her purse on the table as she walked through the front door of her apartment, feeling a sense of relief at being home. She spotted a set of keys already in the bowl and inched further into the apartment, unsure if the quiet meant that Agnes was down for a nap or not. It was late, but not completely out of the question.

What she found stopped Liz in her steps, a sense of warmth washing over her and she couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of her husband flopped back on the couch, sound asleep, their daughter on his chest, Agnes' arms up and as close to hugging on her daddy's neck as the could get. Tom had one arm loosely wrapped around her in turn to keep her from rolling off in her sleep.

After a long moment one dark blue eye cracked open. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey. You guys have a long day?"

"We did. We went out to the park to make up for the fact I was at the lab all morning."

"Find out anything new?"

"Not a lot." Agnes stirred and Tom shifted under her. "The bones are somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old, female, and missing her teeth, making it that much more difficult to ID."

"Of course it is." Liz stepped forward and scooped a now squirming Agnes up who gave a big yawn in her mother's ear. "Reddington didn't say anything about it when I met with him this morning."

"Stubborn bastard," Tom grumbled and Liz shot him a warning look.

"She's going to start repeating us sooner or later. Do you really want that to be our daughter's first words?"

He flashed her a grin. "If it's about her Grandpa Red she wouldn't be wrong."

A knock came from the front door. Liz quirked an eyebrow at him. "Or her daddy. Were you expecting someone?"

"Yeah. Nez, but not for another…" His voiced trailed off as he checked his watch. "Well we're not getting her back down tonight. I didn't realise how late it was."

"Yep. My husband is officially the old guy that falls asleep on the couch," she laughed as she set Agnes on her hip to go answer the door.

Nez Rowan stood in the hallway, a bag hanging off her shoulder and a grim expression on her face. "Hey, Liz."

"Nez," Liz greeted, trying to crush the unsettling feeling that her expression brought on.

Agnes started to squirm in her arms and all of a sudden she was reaching out to Nez, wanting to switch who was holding her. The operative stared for a moment, a little startled, but her expression softened slowly. "Hey you. You remember me from the other day?"

"Watch out. You think she wants to say hi, but she's really after your hair," Liz warned, stepping back to give the other woman room to come in.

"She's adorable. She gets away with it," Nez answered, her smile not quite fading as she held a finger out for Agnes to latch onto and the little girl did, giggling as Nez flexed her finger and she made a grab for the woman's hair. She dodged expertly.

"Do you have children?"

"Oh no. This life doesn't really…" She stopped, looking a little awkward. "No, I don't, but I did have a brother that was a decade younger than me. Trust me, he had a way of getting ahold of anything and everything."

Liz tried for a smile, doing her best to ignore the slip about the difficulties of keeping the balance between being an operative and having a family. Even as an FBI agent she felt it, and she knew Tom did as well. Their lives were dangerous and they could be gunned down on any case, any operation, leaving Agnes to grow up without one or both of them. It was a terrible thought, and one that had struck her on more than one occasion while ducking gunfire in the street or hearing her husband talk about some dangerous stunt he'd pulled with Halcyon, but in the end it was who they were just as much as they were Agnes' parents. It was a difficult balance, but it was important and they were willing to fight for it. "Does your brother live in New York too?" she asked, looking for a way to shift out of the awkward conversation.

"No. He died… several years ago," Nez answered and looked over to Tom as they entered the living room. "You napping, Keen?"

"What'cha got, Nez?" he asked, entirely ignoring her jab as he padded across the living room to Agnes who was already trying to get back to him. He held out his arms and she all but fell into them while her mother did her best not to be insulted. "Good to know you've missed me," he laughed, kissing her temple and holding her close.

Nez looked awkwardly between Tom and Liz. "I, uh… have that information from my informant. Do you have some place we can talk?"

"I'm just going to tell Liz anyway. You might as well save the time it'll take to relay it," Tom said as he moved to put Agnes down in her playpen. She frowned, almost like she was about to start throwing a fit, until he reached over for the bear with his red bowtie and she squealed happily for him.

Nez's expression had darkened again as she swung her bag around, pulling files from it. She handed them over without a word and Liz watched her husband's face as he took them and started flipping through the pages. She watched while still giving him space and she saw glimpses of satellite surveillance, transcribed phone conversations, photos, and various write ups that looked like reports. Tom's expression was stone, his eyes sharp as he read and Liz hated that look. It was the one he wore to shut everything and everyone out. The one where only he knew what he was really thinking. She used to be afraid of it, but now she just hated it.

"We got ahold of Howard's PI Pendergast."

"I know him. He's loyal. How'd you make him talk?"

Nez grimaced. "It took a while."

Tom's gaze flickered up at that. "Nez."

"What?" she asked defensively, thumbing at her nose.

"You have a lot of talents. You could take on almost anyone that comes at you, but advanced interrogation? It's not your style. Who did you bring in on this? How do we know this is real?"

She shifted her weight, her eyes finding anything else but Tom Keen to focus on and Liz watched her swallow hard, mumbling a name under her breath.

"What?" Tom growled, his eyes flashing dangerously and that mask broke.

"You've had enough on your plate. I didn't want to-"

"Who?" Liz cut in, feeling like she was being left out of a very important revelation. She would have rathered been asked to leave the room than talked around.

"Matias Solomon," Nez said smally and Liz felt her temper flare.

"That bastard?" she hissed.

Tom reached out, his fingertips only barely touching her arm and she saw him shake his head, though she could see just how much it was troubling him. "Fine. Okay."

"It's real, Tom," Nez said quietly. "I wish it weren't. I wish none of this had been real and that it were all some… I don't know. Some misunderstanding, but it's not. She may not have built the prototype, but she sure as hell wasn't honest with us. She's been working for a third party this whole time. Those payments… those were coming in before you were born. She has a handler, Tom."

Tom had gone quiet and Liz saw the strain on his face to try to maintain his composure. It was slipping quickly and as she reached out, trying to offer some semblance of comfort, he pulled away from her. "Is Howard in New York?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, moving towards the little table by the door where his keys and wallet lay, his boots propped up next to it. "I have to go," he said, the words thin and pained. "I'll… I'll try to be home tonight. I will be home tonight."

"Tom, let me call Carly. I'll go with you," Liz tried, but he was already shaking his head.

"I can't wait. I have to deal with this now. I have to…" He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and when they opened again Liz saw they were glassy with rare tears. "I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Call me when you're on your way home? I don't care how late it is."

He nodded, but that seemed all he could do. He didn't say another word as he turned and grabbed what he needed, shoving his feet into his boots and heading out the front door.

Liz stood frozen in their living room, Agnes starting to fuss from her playpen and Liz turned to Nez. "I want to see everything he just looked through."

"I don't know if-"

"I'm not asking."

It had been a long day. The Board had kept him cooped up to talk finances, direction, and public perception. He'd sat at that long table long enough to feel like he was shackled again, kept there against his will. It was infuriating sometimes and Howard often questioned why he'd allowed the Board so much power to begin with.

Things were not going as well as he'd hoped. Daniel Pool - the one that Tom and his team knew as Trevor Sanders or their John Doe - was never supposed to hurt the girl. He was supposed to get close to Scottie, but he'd deviated when she'd proven difficult. He'd been an arrogant child and Howard knew it. He'd told his son that he wasn't responsible for Kat's death, and while he hadn't given the order, he'd settled for an arrogant idiot rather than a talented operative. Daniel had been a contingency plan if Scottie realized who Tom was too quickly. He was never supposed to cause so many problems.

Now his son was suspicious. Angry. The son he'd looked so long for was shutting him out and it hurt. It'd been a long time since something had gnawed at him quite like that. Well, something other than Scottie's betrayal.

"Drinking alone?"

Howard startled in his chair, halfway to his feet. It was rare that someone could sneak up on him, but his uninvited guest had footsteps as quiet as a cat's. Once he saw who had infiltrated his home he finally released the breath he'd dragged in sharply at the words. "Dammit, Red."

Raymond Reddington smirked just a little, his hat in his hand, and he motioned to the stand that held an assortment of liquors. Howard nodded and he poured himself a drink. "I must say, I would have expected you to find somewhere else to live. This place…. Ghosts walk the halls."

The taller man settled back in his chair again as the man he'd known many years settled in the one across from him, his hat on his knee. "It's my home, Red. Christopher… Tom's home."

"The home he doesn't remember," Reddington drawled.

"He might. And if he doesn't, we can build something new. I've waited too long to let this slip away. You know how that feels."

Reddington pushed a long breath through his nose and tilted his head. "It's been a long time, Howard. I've found myself… short on friends as of late. I hope I can still count you as one."

Howard's lips quirked up at the corners. "I've known you a long time, Red. Been through hell with you, and I know when you're asking for a favour. What do you need?"

The other man chuckled. "Information. Your son has something of mine. I believe he's delivered it to one of your forensic labs for research."

"This sounds like a conversation that you should have with Tom, not me."

"You haven't been around your son long enough to know, Howard. He's reckless. Dangerous in the way he latches onto an idea and holds on without any thought of the consequences at times. He thinks he's helping Elizabeth, but really he's setting her up for more pain that he could possibly know. Something that could destroy her. I want to protect her from that, but to do it, I need what your son stole from me."

"I'd like to help you, Red. I would," Howard said slowly, his gaze focusing on the cubes of ice that had half melted in his own amber liquid, "but you're asking me to choose you over my son. I won't. I'd be happy to-"

"You've been so focused on your son lately, Howard, I wonder if you noticed all the signs that Marcus Fischer has caught the FBI's attention?"

Howard blinked, startled. "Fischer? Why would he... " Realization hit like a slap to the face. "What have you done, Red?"

"We'll call it insurance, what do you say?" his old colleague said cheerfully as he sipped at Howard's good scotch.

"You knew I wasn't going to give in to this."

"I'd hoped that you'd make the right decision, but I couldn't risk that your judgment would be clouded. Fischer is your lead forger for your black ops division, isn't he? Surely you know that he has a side business as well, but you look the other way because he really is one of the very best."

"Kind of like the FBI looks the other way for you?"

Reddington's lips thinned out in a strange sort of smile. "I need the location of the suitcase that Tom delivered. Find it, get it to me, and you have my word that this will go away. Don't, and I imagine that you'll have some trouble explaining to the Board why you've allowed someone such as Mr Fischer to remain on the payroll so long."

There was a flash of headlights out the front window and Howard saw a black car pull into the driveway. His gaze remained fixed there, wondering who on earth the guards would have let in at this hour, and saw Tom step out once the car had come to a stop.

Reddington turned, quirking an eyebrow.

"Get out, Red. If he sees you here-"

"Find the suitcase or you'll have trouble sending your operatives anywhere until you rebuild your documents division," Reddington said, the false cheer thin and Howard saw the barest glimpse of the desperation beneath it all. He felt it too, even as Red moved passed him to take a back exit and his son pounded on the front door.

His knuckles hurt he was knocking against the large, wood door so hard. If he'd ever been to the giant house that Howard Hargrave supposedly lived in - with its guards at the front gate and its security taking note of every twitch of his expression - he couldn't remember it. Even if he had it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.

If Scottie cared, if Howard cared… none of it mattered. It was all a lie anyway.

He heard the locks being undone from inside and the door was pulled open, his father standing in a cardigan and house shoes. "Tom, I didn't know you were back in town tonight. Come in. Everything okay?"

"No," Tom answered sharply as he stepped in, flexing his fist open and shut in an anxious movement he'd never quite shaken. "No it's not. I have…. I've been looking into Kat's murder."

"I thought you put that on the back burner while you helped Liz?"

"I'm a multitasker." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet the taller man's eyes. "You lied to me. You've… been lying to me since the beginning. You…" He felt his breath catch and he shoved it down hard. He needed to shut it out. Replace it. Anger rather than hurt. Threats rather than questions. He knew how to make a man talk. He knew how to make a man fear for his life if he needed to. Right then, with the pain raging and mixing with every other emotion that he couldn't quite name, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be a good man or not.

"Tom, son, have a seat. Talk to me. What's happened? Is this about what we spoke about the other day? I've gotten you reinstated at the jail. You can see Scottie whenever-"

"You used me to put my mother in prison. You… orchestrated everything. I know what you did. Just once have the decency to tell me to my face. Why now?"

Silence stretched between them for a long moment until Howard cleared his throat. "Whatever she's told you-"

"Pendergast."

The name hung in the air and Tom watched just a little of the colour drain from Howard's face and he nodded. "Yeah. I told you that I know what you did. You kill Kat, you lied to Nez, and you used me."

"I never touched that girl, Tom. If I could have known she would have been hurt in all of this, I would have stopped it. I was trying to protect you. If you really broke Pendergast, you know what Scottie is, Tom. You know that she's a foreign agent, just like I warned you about. She's not a body double. Her DNA was the first thing I had them run when he was arrested, but… It's worse, almost. She's been playing us since the first moment. Me first and then you. She used us. We were her cover, Tom. She-."

"If you really wanted to protect me you would have told me!" Tom yelled, his voice pitching up and everything in him felt like it was trembling, and angry tears blurred his vision. "But you weren't trying to protect me, were you? Your investigator that you had tracking me… you knew. I've been trying to ignore it, trying to find an explanation for it, but it's simple. You've known where I was for years, but you left me because you didn't need me. Not until you were ready. She may have used us, but you used me."

"Tom, please." He reached out as if he were going to touch Tom's arm and the younger man jerked away hard.

"Don’t come anywhere near my family again. Stay away from us. Stay the hell away from me. I'm done with this. I wish to everything I'd never come looking for either of you."

He turned then and the instinct to run was stronger than it'd been in a long time. He needed to get out of there. He needed to leave. He needed to go home to the people he loved and that loved him in return.

Notes: When Redemption was announced I was so excited to get to get to know Tom's mother. In all honesty, I had more theories about her than Tom's father. I'd just assumed he'd never really been in the picture for some reason, but the moment Terry O'Quinn was announced as Howard Hargrave and a little about his personality was leaked I was all in for this complicated father-son dynamic. Don't get me wrong. There's plenty to come for Scottie, but I have a weakness for these relationships, so this chapter sort of broke my heart.

Next time - Tom and Liz try to find their version of normal on a double date with Samar and Aram.

#the blacklist #demons at the door #fanfiction #Tom Keen #elizabeth keen #nez rowan #matias solomon #raymond reddington #howard hargrave

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