ash and dust.

Jimmy would like to take more credit for his brother and sister, but in truth the three Carmichael Children had a good Mother. Their father was imprisoned when Jimmy was fifteen for murder in the first degree, following which their Mother, Andrea, took up another job on top of the night shift she already worked at the local convenience store in order to provide for their family. Jimmy knows that any merits in him or his siblings were because of her, but as she died three years later it was down to him to provide.

Jimmy turned to a life on the streets. He and his oldest friend Kate Moretti pick-pocketed for a long time, gathering pennies to try and feed both their families. That work soon turned to the big leagues, and following a fight Jimmy got in when he was 19, one that meant he ultimately killed the other guy, the two had developed quite a name for themselves. They started freelancing in the business of making people disappear, and in it found their forte. It wasn't until things got complicated with their competitor's that they even ran into any trouble with the law.

Matt, or Matty to his friends, is the second eldest of the Carmichael's, and perhaps the most unreliable. He's always been a little too laid back for his own good, a trait that always agitated his older brother. By the age of fourteen he was as good as an orphan with no one to rely on but Jimmy, and he was quite content to do so until he turned sixteen and was forced to get a job. Kate's cousin, Caleb, got him a place working at the music shop with him. He's been there ever since.

Sophie is the youngest and arguably sweetest Carmichael. She's always been a gentle soul and treat as the baby of the family, which she of course was, being almost twelve years younger than Jimmy. Unlike her two brothers who are often at logger-heads, they both have an unconditional love for their sister, she often being the only person who holds their family together. When she was fifteen she went missing. Many assumed she'd ran away, others thought she'd been murdered, but Jimmy knew it had something to do with Vincent Cooper.

He'd always had a minor grudge with the local head mafioso as he and Kate refused to work for him, but it was only after they started getting heat from well known, corrupted cops that things got difficult. Cooper started targeting the two of them for a very simple reason-- if they weren't his allies, they were his enemies.

Two of Kate's younger siblings were hurt in a bid to get to her shortly after Sophie's disappearance, and that was when Jimmy began to accuse Cooper of having some involvement. It was almost a year later that she turned up again. The young girl had broken free herself, having been held in the basement of an undisclosed location for the last year and ran straight for home. 

From her starved frame and broken body it was clear to see that she'd not been a welcome guest, though the details of her captures or what they did to her remain a mystery-- the girl's been selectively mute ever since the ordeal, though Jimmy knows in his heart that it was Cooper behind it all. When she does speak, she mutters a few words at best.

Kate managed to scrape together enough money when Annie was six to send her to ballet classes because the child was desperate for them. The teacher however wouldn't accept her, knowing the Moretti's as many people in the neighborhood did, and being scared if she did that it'd bring unwanted trouble to her classes. 

Zac didn't drink to forget.

He felt that was a rather unfortunate stereotype of men like him, that they drowned their sorrows in alcohol because that was the easiest way to deal with the repressed feelings that society dictated they shouldn't feel. He'd seen many men do it; on the movies, around the bar, even in his own family. It was how they were expected to cope.

When Zac had awoken in the hospital and found she wasn't by his side, he too found himself clutching to a bottle of Jack's like it was an IV drip. He sat in his wheelchair, propped up by the window where he watched the days pass by, one after the other. Each day around noon the trees would blur as the last ghost of sobriety left him, and he would carry on like this until Shaun arrived to help him up to bed. But it wasn't because he didn't want to think of her why he did this. Quite the opposite really.

When he awoke in the mornings, when he was thinking clearly, he couldn't remember what her eyes were like; he wouldn't allow himself to remember. To think of them would be to admit he missed them, and Zac was far too proud for that. The only thing worse than longing for her was knowing that he had no right to, not after the way he had treat her, and so when he was sober he would try to admit defeat and think of anything but Lorna Davidson.

He would think of the sky, of the years he spent gazing up at it, or of his Mother and Sister all the way across the ocean, or even about when he was going to get back in touch with work and take up the position waiting for him. He thought practically.

Yet when the familiar warmth descended over him, it was her face that danced through his mind again and again. He thought of the way she laughed so loudly and without the slightest hint of shame, how she would smile whenever he was around as though surprised to see him, how her hands were scarred with the mistakes of her past as much as his were; but most of all, he thought her eyes.

They were brown to most, dark like her complexion and as average as could be. Zac knew though, that when you looked closer the glimmers of green shone through, and how amongst that hazel glaze there were speckles of gold that lit up in the sun. How he had loved those eyes.

Faye looked at him, and she knew things that one shouldn't have the faintest idea about upon meeting a stranger for the first time. She looked in his eyes, brown and blank, and knew how they would sparkle in the sunlight on a summer's day with crinkles of skin framing them. She knew looking at his gloved hands how his left thumb had a scar that ran along the pad of it, something your eyes were often drawn to as that was the hand he near constantly held a cigarette in.

kate: in his defence, he never wanted to be a part of this bullshit in the first place. you made him do it.

sal: the kid wanted to prove himself. all i did was give him a chance to do that.

kate: murder isn't the only way to prove yourself. christ sal, we aren't all fucking robots.

erin: it's a vow, idiot. it's saying you're going to love someone for the rest of your life, and that you're always going to be there.

faye: unless you get a divorce because your wife turns into a psychotic bitch. then you won't be there.

Erin didn’t want to be saved by other people; ever.

Not when she was forced to watch her baby brother kill a man, not when she was thrown from home to home as neither parent wanted her, and particularly not when she was living out her existence in a drug den.

As far as she was concerned, she had the power to save herself when and if she wanted to. She didn’t need a man to ride in on a white steed to clear up her messes. No, it was her who testified against her brother, her who moved to another country in a bid to escape her broken home, and her who went cold-turkey in a matter of days.

Then Jonah happened.

He was a good man, that much she would never deny. He was kind, and sweet, and understanding in a way that few were. He had been a friend before a lover, and a good one at that. He’d been the one to carry her home when she got a little too drunk after work, the one to sit and play with her hair whenever she was lonely, the one to dance with her whenever she was happy. He was always there for her.

So it made sense to love him as he loved her; Erin knew he loved her. She could see it in his eyes when they awoke together in the mornings, the way they shone somehow brighter and crinkled around the edges, and how that look was always followed by the gentlest but most satisfied of sighs. There were other gestures that seemed to prove this fact as well, but none quite as defintively as that look, because Erin never looked at him like that.

Perhaps that was because she had never loved him like that.

Erin had many feelings for Jonah; affection, gratitude, and even love to an extent. Just not the kind that reciprocated everything he felt in turn, and with every day she spent by his side this destroyed her a little bit more, and she was sure she could see it destroying him too.

She told herself that sooner or later the love would come. She’d learn to love him, because she owed him that, and in the months that followed she could never quite work out why it never came. As a Doctor she liked facts, and scientifically speaking attraction that lasts longer than four months turns to love. Now, she was attracted to him. She was. And yet still she never looked at him and felt that flare in her heart like a beacon call, drawing her straight to him. She remained passive for almost a year of her life, before Erin came to a rather abrupt conclusion.

That she owed herself more than she owed anyone, for she was the only person who could save herself. Just this once though, she would save Jonah first. She would save him from herself.

He was too good to not be loved properly, and so one morning as he slept, strewn out in their bed with that dreamy look on his face, she packed a small bag and threw it over her shoulder. She was on the verge of leaving, haven written the note and left it on his bedside table, but as she looked over at him one last time she couldn’t resist pressing one last parting kiss to his temple, remembering as she did that scent that made her feel safe.

Then she drove away in the morning sun, with tears burning her cheeks in the cold wind and an ache in her chest at the thought of never hearing that laugh again.

THE CARLTON'S --

The first generation of the Carlton clan are all half siblings, sharing nothing more than their Father's blood and a bubbling resentment for the man who brought them into this world. You can normally spot them by the blond of their hair and near constant look of disdain, but if you need to look deep than that we'd suggest you check their mental state. Anything above sane can't possibly a Carlton.

JACOB CARLTON - the eldest of the trio. as a child he was born and raised in texas under the care of his single mother, living a perfectly pleasant life despite his father's absence. he would linger around the hospital where his mother worked as a nurse, often dreaming of what it might be like to help other people. he was fourteen when his mother passed, having suffered for a year from leukaemia. it was after this that jacob was forced to get in touch with his father, and move to washington in order to live in his care (FC: HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN)

FAYE CARLTON - of all the children faye had arguably the hardest childhood. the result of her father's first marriage, it seemed all would be well for once with the carlton's. then her father left as he always did, and her mother lost it, as they all knew she would. faye was seven at the time, and following this endured years of physical and mental abuse at the hands of her alcoholic mother and her future husband. her only salvation seemed to be her music. it was what kept her going until she was sixteen, at which time her father took her from her mother's care and tried to fix the damage that had been done. unfortunately, some wounds cannot be healed. (FC: JENNIFER LAWRENCE)

Family functions had never been Sal's kind of thing, mainly because they had next to nothing to do with family. They were strictly business. Everyone invited was there because they were an allie. Some, admitedly, were friends. They would great him and his siblings with welcome smiles and gracious attitudes, trying as they did to not seem as though they were sponging off the newest family to find riches in this business. The rest however were doing exactly that. They would come, drink their wine, eat their food, and use their home as a place to further their own contacts in the business. It was a circus in Sal's eyes, one he would gladly avoid.

Still, Kate had asked he come and considering he was trying to regain some favour with her he could hardly refuse. He donned the suit, combed his hair, even placed his stony smile in place that seemed something close to welcoming. It was being held in Kate's newest home, a manor of sorts on the outskirts of town that she'd inherited from Cooper before her. It was hardly humble, and he knew for a fact as he walked through the reception area that his sister would despise this place. She was comfortable in the dingy little one-bedroom apartment in Bensonhurst. That was her home. Not here.

Annie seemed to be blending in quite well, wearing her newest red dress that was attracting attention from all the right people. Mens eyes seemed to follow her right across the room, and the sight of their leering caused a small chuckle to escape Sal's lips. If only they knew. Then again, even if she was interested in their sex he hoped his baby sister would have a little more taste. Jamie too was flourishing, surrounded by young men just like him, all of whom were wearing the expensive suits and laughing obnoxiously loud. In Sal’s opinion he was mimicking their behaviour a little too well, right down to the part where he was ignoring his wife rather spectacularly.

Faye stood alone in a far corner of the room much like Sal did, watching opposed to participating. He kept his eyes on her for a long time, trying to work out what his baby brother saw in the girl. She was neither Italian nor from their walk of life. Her Father was nothing but a small business owner, her Mother not even in the picture, and she herself was a pianist in some bar downtown. In the way of social standing there was nothing to her, so you’d hope that it was her utter beauty that had driven him to her, and still there was nothing.

The girl, though arguably beautiful to some, was rather average to Sal. She was of regular height with subtle curves to her figure, nothing too astounding. As far as features went he could see nothing special there either. Her nose seemed too wide for the rest of her face, as did her wide set lips. The only truly striking part about her were the eyes, almost wolf-like both in colour an appearance which was accentuated by the dark make-up she wore. Sal couldn’t lie, he was intrigued to find out more, which was when he began walking across the reception.

He was half way there when he saw someone else beat him to it.

Jimmy Carmichael had once upon a time been Sal’s right hand man. The two did everything together, whether that be going to see a game or destroying another unsuspecting soul’s life. They were partners in crime, but things had been quite obviously strained since Sal’s return. He knew Jimmy resented him for leaving the kids behind. He knew he judged him. He knew that things were no longer the same. Despite being certain of all this he still kept kidding himself that they could patch things up somehow. They were Jimmy and Sal at the end of the day. They were brothers.

But Jimmy approached the young blonde first, and before either of them could catch sight of the eldest Moretti approaching his hand had found its way to Faye’s hip to pull her back into the shadows. Sal wished he could hear what they were saying as a smile came to both their lips, Jimmy’s eyes crinkling as they did and reflecting his age in comparison to the youthful girl he still held. He watched as Jimmy’s hand ghosted along her side for a moment, and as Faye’s rested against the others chest, both of them going perfectly unnoticed by all as the vultures carried on with their falsities. All bar Sal that is, who didn’t need to hear them to paint a good picture of the words being said.

“Amazing.” He muttered to himself with a chuckle.

Faye: So you like boys?

Jacob: A little, I guess.

Faye: ... Well that's a relief.

Jacob: How come?

Faye liked to imagine there was another universe out there, one where everything was different. People like her weren't hunted; seconds thoughts, they never even existed. There were no freaks in this universe, only human beings, all of whom were equal. No one was victimised and murdered in the streets for something that was out of their control. They were allowed to simply exist. She would've carried on with her Education, maybe even got herself a good job.

And sooner or later she would've met Alec. The circumstances would've been different of course, maybe in a bar that wasn't burning to the ground, or in some quaint little coffee shop like in the movies. They would've have been forced together because of their similar situations. They would've chosen each other. 

She laid beside him now, listening to the mattress they laid on creak in time with his chest rising and falling. He'd been asleep for hours now, but with thoughts like this plaguing her mind Faye could not. She could only lay there and watch him, contemplating as she did how happy they might've been were this universe theirs. With a shaky hand she reached up, trailing her icy finger tips along his jaw and sighing at the warm skin she felt there. 

The night was unseasonally cold. That day there'd be forecasts of snow in the coming week and Locke had decided he'd have to pay his house in Barcelona a much needed visit. He booked a ticket for the following day, packed a bag, and walked around with a near constant smile as he was in the knowledge that by this time tomorrow he'd be in the climate that suited him best. He really couldn't be dealing with any of this winter business. It ruined him.

It was like a sign from god himself when the snow came early, rolling in just an hour after he'd booked a ticket. He cursed to himself as he watched layer upon layer build outside, and Locke slowly realised that the trip to the airport would be a wasted one. Everything would be grounded until further notice, and therefore so was he. It looked as though the great Chicago winter was something he'd have to endure for a little while longer.

He went to bed early that night, in no mood to attempt socilizing in his usual spots or even remaining awake. He wanted to sulk, much like the ten year old he often pretended to be. It wasn't until the depths of night have creeped up on him that he stirred again. The sound of footsteps came from his staircase, but it was neither panic nor anger that struck up within him. It was sudden excitement.

He knew who that light and nimble step belonged to, having remembered it long ago, and in truth he had missed the sound of it. When his bedroom door creaked open he played dead, remaining perfectly still even as his covers rolled back, and a small body rolled in beside his. In the dark he allowed a small and subtle smile to spread across his lips, before his arms encompassed the body next to his and pulled it close, nestling his hair in locks of red hair.