#|writing

You gave out a little whine, and threw the book to the couch, before reaching over and yanking back the blanket you’d strewn over the larger pile of materials there. Angel laughed as you swiped your hands over the small library of ‘Spanish for Beginners’ resources you’d piled up on the cushions.

“You see all my shame.” You spoke dramatically, and then flopped into his side, wrapping your arms around his chest and gripping him to you.

“You’re learning Spanish.” He clarified with pride, and you hummed into his chest, rubbing your forehead against the leather, still warm from the sun. He ran his hand across your crown, fingers dipping between the tendrils of hair as he pressed warm lips to your temple.

“And you’re hiding it…why?” he asked, and you sighed.

“I feel dumb!” You swung your head back, eyes screwed shut, and whined.

He chuckled, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“I already know you don’t speak Spanish” he reminded you, his head bobbing about.

“I know but I feel dumb!” you repeated, and he sighed, lowering his hands to your back, and flopping the pair of you onto the empty end of the couch. You let out a soft oof as you landed, almost headbutting his jaw.

You turned in his arms, kicking away at the books so they fell onto the floor, and then turned back to snuggle into him.

“Everyone else understands what’s going on and I’m left sat there like…I’m already the odd one out. Everyone else is the club or the family and I’m sat there as that girl with Angel who can’t even speak fucking Spanish.” You complained, adjusting your head one, two, three times on various spots on his shoulder before you found the most comfortable one.

“You are family. No-one thinks you’re just that girl- “

“I know they don’t think that. I think that.”

“Ok, well don’t” he shrugged. You frowned, craning your neck back to look at him.

“Wow. You should work for the UN. Really solving all the problems out here, huh?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you flung your hand up to tap at his cheek, but he caught the motion as you began it, swinging you in his arms, and wriggling his fingers at your side.

You began wrestling around each other, chuckling and squealing, the two of you gasping as you tumbled off the couch, dragging papers off the coffee table onto the pile of your bodies. You burst out laughing, blowing out puffs of air to fly the papers off Angel’s head as he buried it into your chest.

“You good?” he asked, raising his head just a little, and you nodded, letting your head fall back to the rug.

“Cracked my elbow in half, but yeah, I’m good.”

He pushed up to his elbows, and then rolled to one side, reaching out for a textbook with his free hand. He flicked between the pages, eyeing the exercises.

“I’ll just teach you. I already explain stuff to you.” He decided, and you sighed, pushing up for rest on your own elbows.

“Yeah, the point of this is that you don’t have to explain things to me anymore. I’ll be able to understand them. And then I can turn off the IRL Angel Subtitle Settings.” You explained, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. He needed a haircut, you noted.

Angel frowned, still flicking through the pages.

“I like explaining things to you. It’s like…our thing, you know?”

“Appeals to your caregiving kink always having to take care of poor old me?” you posed, and he gave you an A Grade Bitchface, prompting a smirk from you. “I want to learn. It can be our thing that I understand what you’re saying.”

“Creeper doesn’t speak Spanish.” He shrugged, and you screwed your face up into a grimace.

“Babe, if that was meant to comfort me, it was a swing and a miss.” You replied, and he gave a look of acceptance, nodding along.

He turned back to the book, flicking through the pages in silence for a minute or two until he chuckled under his breath, sitting up, and reaching into his pocket. He pulled his phone out, and you frowned, wondering what the heck was happening. He rested the book on your shins, legs still laying half across his lap, and lined the phone up to the page.

You sat up, eyeing what he was through the screen, and rolled your eyes as he snapped the goofy looking cartoon illustrating a question.

He laughed to himself as he sent the photo to his brother.

“It looks nothing like EZ” you argued.

“And yet, you knew who it was meant to be without me telling you” he pointed out, and you stayed silent until you relented. “True.”

He dropped his phone onto the coffee table, followed it with the book, and wrapped his palm around your closest ankle. He kneaded the flesh in his fingertips, looking over to you.

“You want to do this yourself, go ahead. Am I offended you didn’t come to me?” he gave an exaggerated shrug, and you rolled your eyes as he tried to joke his way out of it. He continued his little speech about how you didn’t trust him to teach you properly, and how you were disrespecting generations of his family by going to some textbook to learn instead of-

You sighed, crawling across his lap, straddling him and wrapping your forearms around his neck.

“Angel, shut the fuck up, please”

He rolled his neck back to look at you as you hovered over him.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you, I just…wanted to get a certain level down and then kind of surprise you with it, I guess, and then if I turned out to be really….really bad at it, I could just forget it all happened, and carry on pretending like I never tried, and then at least you would think it’s just that things were as they’d always been and not that I’d failed at something….really important.” You pouted a little as you finished up, and he frowned.

“You never feel like…I don’t know. It’s not that I didn’t care enough to learn or anything, you know that, right?” you asked, and he let his head loll, shooting you a are you fucking serious? look.

“Ok.” You replied to his silent response, and he brought his hand up to rest at your neck again, tilting your head so he could press soft kisses to your cheekbone.

“If I get stuck, will you help me? I’m gonna need lots of practice.” You looked down at him with a soft smirk, and he returned it.

“You want me to be your study buddy, huh?”

“You offered to tutor me, didn’t you? I thought you had all these things to teach me, Mr Reyes.” You teased, and he traced his hand down your spine.

“Yeah? I get to set you homework?” he asked, and you laughed.

“Jesus, Angel. You got a list longer than half these books.”

“What?” he questioned, innocently, and you shook you head, beginning to untangle yourself but he refused to let you go, replacing his grip somewhere new every time you shifted away.

“Angel! I just left the food on the counter, come on!” you called through your laughter, and he let you go, slapping at your ass as you walked away.

“It’s like 500 degrees out today, of course you brought stuff to grill.” You lifted you head to smile over the counter to him as you unpacked the food and caught him stacking all the papers you’d started writing notes on neatly on the edge of the coffee table.

You paused in your work, watching him, as he rounded up all the textbooks and then the resources you’d printed off at work to look over in your lunchbreak, so if one of the guys walked in, you could tuck them under invoices and have them be none the wiser.

Once there were three neat stacks on the surface, he stood, wiping his hands off on his jeans, and looking over to you. He kept your eyes, and you smiled over to him. He nodded to you, turning towards the hallway.

“They went to sort out a contract a couple days ago, and turns out Bishop knew this guy from when they served together or something. They ended up going out for some beers and then he comes back with all these memories, and he starts telling stories, and all the guys are chipping in with their old tales, and…” you waved your hand, “anyway, he tells this story about them having to hide in like a fucking hole for two days or something.

Well, then of course, your dad had to have hid in one for three days, and someone else had done four, and then Creeper, being Creeper, makes a joke that turns into a challenge. So now…they’re seeing who can hide the longest without giving in or getting noticed. I have no idea where anyone is right now.”

You turned on the bench, reaching your leg as far as it would go, shifting slightly to try and toe the crate that was just out of reach. Letting out a whispered ah-hah as it finally slipped into place, and tugging it towards yourself to use as a footstool, Letty sat watching in confused silence.

“They’re a bunch of children.” She finally settled on, eyes moving over every inch of the yard in sight as she tried to pick out someone in the shadows.

“Yep.” You agreed, crossing your ankles.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” she shrugged.

“Well, I’m catching up on some light reading, enjoying the well-deserved peace and quiet- “you lifted the magazine into her eyeline, before flicking it back open, “and Chucky is inside getting snacks and I’m pretty sure he’s…making cocktails.”

You lifted, eyes peeking over the edge of the window as you tried to spy inside the clubhouse.

“ Yeah. He’s bringing cocktails.”

You dropped down, eyes drawn by movement out in the yard as a bird flew over the assortment of things decorating the fence.

“You know, I’m pretty sure EZ is just hanging out in his trailer.” You posed, and Letty lent out into the sun slightly, trying to spy around the corner.

“He is the smart one.” She agreed, settling back beside you. You eyed her with a smile for a second, before turning to your left, and lifting a magazine off the pile, and offering it to her. Her own smile grew, taking the offering gladly, and toed off her sandals. You shifted the crate in her direction, the two of you pushing your toes out to bathe in the warming light.

“Ladies” Chucky arrived through the door with a sweep, carrying a tray.

“Ooh” you let out, abandoning your reading, and standing to take the glasses from him, “is that your spiced popcorn!?”

He smiled bashfully, a frantic nod. You handed a glass to Letty, turning back to take a scoop from the bowl.

“Have you had this?” you asked her, and she shook her head with a frown. “You’ve had him jam though right, with the little crackers?”

“She loves my jam.” Chucky informed you, and you retook your seat.

“We love Chucky.” You told Letty, and she shot you a look, amusement clear on her face. “Seriously, try the popcorn, he does it all himself from scratch, it’s great. Chucky, join us!”

You motioned to the folding chair a little further down the porch, and he rushed to collect it, seating himself beside you in the shade of the awning.

The three of you passed the bowl around, enjoying chit chat, the warmth of the day, the light breeze. You pointed out things on the glossy pages to each other, and laughed over the events of the week, sipping the swiftly warming glasses.

Two refills deep there followed in turn: a screech of something giving way above you, a rolling thump, something tumbling to your right, and the three of you jumped forward as something crashed off the roof onto the fortuitously placed stack of cardboard boxes that had been ready to go but hadn’t been recycled yet. A long groan came from the now flattened stack, as a figure rolled around in the crater.

“Jesus, Creeper!” you called, yanking your sandals on before jogging over to him.

“I’m ok!” he lifted an arm, causing another groan to escape, his other arm clutching across his ribs.

“Yeah, you look peachy.” You scoffed, Letty and Chucky appearing at your side as the three of you looked down at him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Shit, am I the first?” he squinted up in the shade that you cast down at him.

“Yeah, honey” you nodded softly, frowning all the while trying to supress your smile at his utter devastation.

“Oh, come on.” He muttered to himself, dropping his head back down to rest on the stack of cardboard. There was a definite chuckle out somewhere in the yard, but the look you cast over you shoulder didn’t reveal which of his brothers was currently gloating in his misery.

“Come on, Creep.” You reached down, nodding towards his other arm to signal Chucky to his aid. You got him vertical, helping him hobble back towards the clubhouse. You got him to the door, tapping him on the shoulder in commiseration as he and Chucky lumbered on. You turned to Letty, who was laughing to herself with her head down, and broke through your own reserve.

“Oh…bless.” You flicked your fingers through your hair, reaching out to collect the jug that perched on the armrest of the bench.

“We need more ice.” you picked up your glass, rolling your neck back to drain the dregs of watered-down liquid.

“We need more margaritas.” Letty corrected as she bent to pick up the stack of magazines that had been scattered in your haste to aid the fallen man, and there was a sudden squeak of metal as Coco’s voice rang out.

“Wait, you letting my kid drink?!”

You laughed into the now empty glass, almost spitting liquid as the sight of Coco trying to shimmy down a drainpipe before Letty could escape into the clubhouse behind you. Your wrist rested over your mouth, coughing a few times to clear the liquid caught in your throat.

“Were all of your strategies just ‘climb up on the roofs’?” you called out as he rushed towards you.

“Pretty sure the prospects just in his trailer” he nodded behind him as he passed, and you nodded to yourself.

Angel had insisted that he didn’t give a single shit what colour the front door was as long as it wasn’t bright green polka dots or some shit, so you’d picked out the colour yourself. He insisted on painting it himself though, and you were thankful for the decision when you got to sit back and watch him work one sunny afternoon in only his sweatpants. Although the conversation you’d had about maybe not keeping a lit cigarette in his mouth as he worked with flammable liquids hadn’t been as easy as convincing him the shade you’d chosen was the correct one.

“He has his moments”

“Yeah? Sounds handsome, too” he insisted, and you laughed again.

“You got all that from one sentence? How exactly did you settle on the handsome part?”

“Well, if he managed to get a girl like you- “he sucked in air with the beginnings of a smile, and you dipped your head, licking at your lips again. “Gotta be working with something”

“Oh, he is” you emphasised, adjusting your shoulder against the wall. “Girl like me, though, what would that be?”

“One who opens doors” he wiggled his grip again, the extra strong chain he’d fitted ringing out once more as you rolled your eyes. You pushed off from the wall, swiping your hand down the wood to move his fingers away, and then pushed your palm flat against the surface to jam it back into the frame. You unhooked the chain, sliding it out of the way, and re-opened the door for your weary boyfriend. He stepped inside, rolling around the door as you replaced the chain instantly.

“Bolt, too” he insisted, and you hummed.

“I know, I know” you flicked it into place, waving at it to signal your compliance. He shot you a look which you disregarded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and jump into his grip.

“Hey” you breathed, pecking kisses at his lips, his cheeks, his forehead as he chuckled.

“Missed me?”

“Just a little” you replied, pressing lips to his and lingering for just a second longer. You jumped down, pulling at his hands as they gripped at your waist, half dragging him behind you as you tried to make it back into the living room. You both laughed, your half-hearted tug of war continuing until you made it to the couch, and he pulled you back down onto his lap. His arms moved quickly to encircle you, lips working their way from your shoulder, up your neck, resting behind your ear for a teasing second too long.

“I have just one section left to finish, and then I’m all yours, all weekend. I promise.” You explained, reaching forward to the laptop, but being pulled back.

“Noooo…Angel. I have to get this done.”

“You work too much” he mumbled, nuzzling into your neck.

“Says the guy whose home for the first weekend this month” you replied, and he hummed without much commitment. His motions stilled, the only indication he hadn’t nodded off being the soft drag of his thumb over your hip where it lay across your belly, fingers pushed up into the shirt you’d ‘borrowed’ off the small pile on his weight bench.

“One more section. Then I’m done with the accounts for the month” you insisted, turning your head to press your lips against his forehead. “I promised Bishop they’d be ready for him Monday. I tried to get them done before you got back but…that didn’t happen. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen”

He sighed, lifting his arm off you like you were exiting a rollercoaster, and you moved forward, coming to your knees in front of the couch. He stayed where he was for a few moments as you began clacking away furiously, the added motivation of his presence ensuring your productivity increased.

“Want a drink?” he asked, rising carefully so he didn’t jam his knee into the back of your skull.

“Uh-uh. Wait-yes!” you stalled your clacking and called as he made it to the doorway heading into the kitchen. “But not beer.”

“We only have beer.”

“Then beer’s fine” you shook your head, and he scoffed a laugh, lumbering into the darkness of the adjoining room.

He returned, the bottle appearing next to your screen. You smiled to yourself when he used the bottom of the beer to shuffle a torn section of paper over to use as a coaster and placed the bottle down on it gently. Turns out the message about the fucking rings in the new fucking coffee table had remained in his head even after his absence.

“We need real coasters” you reminded him, and yourself, reaching out to pick up a pencil and scribble the word down onto another scrap of paper.

“I know” he sighed, collapsing back onto the couch behind you. He toed his boots off, kicking them away from the two of you, and reached forward to rub at the top of your exposed spine above the shirt.

“There’s that place up by your dads that just opened. I went with Lettie to get things for her to move into her dad’s with, and they had some nice stuff. We should check it out. They had a whole garden thing at the back…” you trailed off as you double checked some quick maths in your head, muttering codes to yourself as you entered them into the accounts.

“Yeah, sure. Just…get what you want, and I’ll cover it” he replied, and you hummed.

“The point is kind of going together, Angel. It’s our house, not just mine. You have to kind of like living here”

“I kind of want you to focus on what you’re doing so you can be done doing it” he fired back, and you sighed.

“Fair enough. I mean it though. I get you’re not an interiors guy but like, I don’t know. Want this place to be home for us, not just your girlfriends house you sleep at sometimes. We may as well have just kept the separate apartments if we were going to- “

“Please stop” he pleaded as he leaned down, knocking his forehead against your shoulder. You laughed, raising your hands in surrender, but he reached over to push them back towards the keyboard, spurring your laughter to grow. “More typing!”

“Yes, sir! Don’t go getting excited” you insisted when he hummed at your ear at the title.

He left you to work mostly, pressing soft kisses to the shell of your ear every so often, rubbing his forehead against your shoulder like a damn cat then and now. Ten minutes in and he was getting restless.

“I just have to finish this- “you cut off as Angel hooked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back so he could kiss you properly. “One more line, then I’m all yours”

He sniffed, standing then crouching beside you as he eyed the screen. One hand reached out, gripped the side of the laptop screen, and repositioned it so he could eye the text better. You tutted, reaching out to slap at his wrist.

“You’re going to break it doing that!”

“What the fuck does any of this mean?” he frowned, brow furrowed as you mirrored his earlier motion, clasping his chin between thumb and forefinger, and dragging his gaze back to you.

“It means I deserve a pay rise, is what it means. You gonna get onto Bishop about that for me?” you asked, and he raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, me neither. I’m just saying, you always pay the accountant well, or they take the money from the money, you know? Keep the person holding your tax liabilities happy.”

“Are you threatening to rip off the Club? Huh?” he accused playfully, and you pushed your tongue into your cheek as he took up his work on your neck again. “Because if you are, I gotta take that to the table, baby”

“You’d rat me out?” you questioned with false innocence.

“Bros before…” he trailed off as you shot him with a more serious look, the two of you settling into chuckles after a moment of silence.

“I only handle the legit shit, you know that. Scrapyards doing well.” You turned back to the screen, inputting the last few pieces of data, eyeing the numbers quickly for any immediately obvious mistakes (even though you’d double checked everything before inputting it) and saved it.

“Yeah? I got a nice retirement pay-out waiting for me?” he asked, collapsing back to crash against the floor with a sigh. He raised his hand up to wipe over his face, thumb moving to travel over his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s not coming from my side of the ledger” you reminded him, checking the laptop shut down before flicking the lid down and moving to crawl over him.

You settled over his body, forearms resting either side of his head, fingers moving from the fresh carpet to scrape softly at his scalp.

“Tired, papi?” you questioned, and he hummed. His hand travelled up over your bare thigh, fingers dragging the shirt up over your spine once more.

“When do you want to go to the…place?” he asked, hand waving in the air beside you as he tried to remember the name and failed.

“Hmm, not urgent. We need some decent storage though; the industrial chic look you brought with is not working for me”

“This is our house, not just my girlfriends place” he joked, and you dropped your head to rest on his shoulder. “I happen to like industrial chic, actually. You get your coasters, and your- whatever it was you did to the bathroom. I get my- “

“Rickety exposed metal shelving?”

“Yeah” he shrugged, and you chuckled.

“Ok, Angel. Sure thing.”

“I told my pops we’d go for dinner sometime next week. Not done one since EZ’s birthday and…”

“Yeah, nice. I’ll make a…” you reached up to unhook the thin chain that has fallen to rest in the hollow of his throat, twirling it around the pad of your finger, “-dessert of some kind. Figure it out closer to the time”.

“He likes the one with the- “he motioned in the air again “strawberries or whatever”.

“Ok.” You agreed and he settled, fingers running up and down the length of your spine. “You want to get in the bed or is the floor doing your back some good?”

“What am I? Eighty?” he questioned, wrapping his arms around you, and as if to prove himself, lifting you both up from the ground in one fell swoop. You let out an ooh, snorting as he almost knocked you against the doorframe. “Shit, sorry”

“Nope, you’re good”

“Yeah, I am” he smirked as he walked you both back to the bedroom.

“I mean, you’re married to the big boss. You’re looking after us all” he waved his free hand about, and you kept your expression dull.

“It suits you” he decided, and you rolled your eyes, pulling the chair you were leaning on out and sitting in it.

“Well, with Kaye gone- “

“Good on you” he encouraged, raising his cup in a toast.

“With him gone, and the charges scrapped, and the truce…appearing to hold…somewhat. For now. I’m sure that’ll have to be worked on soon, but…” you shrugged “I guess everything goes back to whatever normal around here looks like. So, I’m, yeah, mothering now, I guess. To pass the time.”

“How’s married life? Shall we expect actual motherhood soon?” he asked with a glint in his eye and you picked up a piece of the semi-burnt toast he’d been preparing for himself and flung it straight between his matching black eyes.

“Oh, toast” Toby exclaimed, rushing into the room with Pickles flickering under his arm. He picked up a piece, lowering the dog to the tiles, and offering it to him. Once he was satisfied that the dog was fed, he rose, and let his eyes wander across the table.

“Did you not get any jam while we were out?” he asked, setting innocent eyes on you, and you sighed heavily.

“It’s great to have you all home” you nodded, smiling through the sarcasm.

-

“Where, this one?” you pointed out with your free hand. The other was in Alfie’s grasp, tucked into his big cosy coat pocket as the two of you strolled through the fallen leaves. The graveyard was laid out in long rows and he motioned passed a big ornamental marker.

“Yeah, just here” he said as you approached.

The two of you stopped, turning in to face the grave.

Samara & Levi Solomons

Alfie whispered something you didn’t understand, and you bowed your head to give him a moment, letting your arm go slack and leaning slightly so he could bend and place the fresh flowers down on the brushed sand.

“Hi, Mr and Mrs Solomons” you whispered when he stepped back, reaching into your pocket “I wanted to…introduce myself, I guess. Thanks for raising, you know, him”

You nodded slightly towards Alfie.

“Married this one, din’t I?” Alfie spoke irreverently at your side, and you took a deep breath.

“I cannot believe- “

He began to chuckle, and you elbowed him.

“I’m trying to make a good impression here!” you whispered back, swallowing down your frazzled feelings.

You reached out steadily once you were settled, placing the smooth stones you’d been fiddling with onto the marker. You fiddled with the placement, getting it in just the right place, before leaning back.

“Did you bring those with you?” Alfie murmured, looking down where your hand delved back into the coat pocket at your side.

“I wasn’t sure whether there would be any here and I didn’t really want to go snooping round the hedges in a graveyard” you whispered back, watching over Alfie’s shoulder as someone passed behind you. He was smiling, trying to swallow down laughter when you turned back, and you had to catch yourself, staring up at him.

“Alfie! Stop! This is a graveyard!”

“Yeah, I know. That’s my mum and dad down there. Hi, mum. Alright dad?” he swiped at his nose before lowering his hand to wave at the gravel beneath your feet. You balked, looking around the two of you to check for confused mourners.

“Alfie!” you scolded in a whisper, staring straight ahead in embarrassment. He continued chuckling at your side. He looked over after a few moments, looping an arm around your waist as you huffed.

“They won’t think any less of you if you crack a smile, you know?” he said, pecking a kiss to your temple. He rested his head on yours, staring at the marker with you.

“No, well, they know you too well, don’t they?” you teased, leaning into his side in return. He chuckled again, hand adjusting at your waist. You kept your hands where they were, clasped together in front of you.

“She’d like you” he decided “Dad would be very fucking relieved, let me tell you. Woman with a bit of common sense? You’ve done alright there, son”

You scoffed a laugh, sighing when you were done.

“I wish…I mean it’d also be nice if they just weren’t dead at all, for you, you know, being their son” you said, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I can see the logic in that” he agreed, and you smiled.

“But if not, just, I wish I’d met them, at least. You have to…tell me more stories about them. Only if- “

“It won’t upset me” he jumped ahead, and you sighed, looking up to him.

“Just, trying to be a good wife and consider your emotional state, is all” you defended with a big smile, and he returned it. His eyes moved back to the grave, and you considered him for a moment.

“Can I have…a moment with them? Is that…weird?” you asked, and he shook his head. He pressed a kiss to your temple, and tapped the marker gently, before he shuffled off towards a nearby bench.

You knelt down, pressing your hand softly against the grass and brushed sand.

“I’m going to look after him. He told me about you. How you were like me, sort of” you eyed his mother’s name “Somewhere you weren’t sure you should be. And then…”

You trailed off with a smile.

“Solomons men, huh?” you laughed in a whisper. You lowered your head “I’m going to look after him for you. Don’t worry”

You raised your eyes to watch the birds flying and dancing around a tall obelisk.

“We made sure I’ll always find my way home. We got everything that I found, before, in the future. Put it together in the club, to be found. Turns out it was me that put that stuff in the walls” you explained with a smile.

“And the information is being put in the library records, and a letter’s been written to explain what must be done. We’re going to pass it down, make sure whoever that man is, he finds me. We’re guessing Bucket has a son” you continued, laughing slightly at the end.

“A time capsule. To make sure I can always find my way home”

A drop of water slopped against your hand, and then another, and you bent your head back to spy the sky.

“Told you it was threatening” Alfie approached, lifting his collar up as it began to really fall.

You sighed, shuffling over to him.

“We should get back” he said, helping you pull your scarf up over your head.

“Yeah, ok” you said sadly, wanting to say more to the ghosts.

“Hey, we can come back another time. Anytime, now you know they’re here. Don’t need my permission” he began to walk away, your hand tucked into his “You’re their daughter now, too”

You smiled, snuggling into his side.

“You’re such a soppy git” you teased, and he chuckled, one of his beautiful, rasping laughs that didn’t stop until you reached the car.

“Your soppy git” he reminded.

“Did my soppy git remember to finish the invoi-” you asked as you ducked into the vehicle.

“He did”

“And did he sort out the stuff for Bucket’s-”

“He did”

“Take Pickles for his walk?” you asked, and Alfie wrapped his coat over his thighs, staring over at you with mild indignation.

“He did”

“And Gerritt? Did someone take Gerritt for his walkies?” you smirked, laughing as your husband rolled his eyes, and tapped on the back of the driver’s seat.

“You’re dead without me. A slow, creeping march towards decrepitude and rot. Here, alone” he sneered again, and you scoffed.

“I’m not alone here. The Fates brought me here. They brought me home. Pass. The Key. To Benny” you enunciated, your hand still shaking, but your grip firm.

Kaye eyed Benny, who had his hand held out carefully. He slid his eyes over to you, and you couldn’t shake the acid in your stomach. You had to focus. Kaye was determined. He was a snake, he was sure to do something to try and slither out of this. He didn’t give a shit about the boy. You’d proven yourself ‘useless’ to him. Breath. Focus.

Kaye reached inside his pocket, and you flicked the gun, warning him not to try anything. He moved his hand away slowly, key hanging from its ring over his finger. He held it up, Benny snatching it and taking two careful steps back. You nodded, telling him you could hold your own if he tried anything. Benny scuttled for the door, and the click of the lock, the creak of the door as he opened it felt like a rush of hope through you.

The dread of what came next couldn’t leave you though. Not until this was done.

“One more chance. I’m giving you one more chance. Think about it. We can change…everything”

Kaye hissed out the last word and you knew, knew, he wouldn’t ever let go. You could never be free until he was gone. He would never give up. There were more of you. He would never stop hunting.

Walking away now meant damning yourself to torment, meant damning others to his fury.

Making this decision though. That meant trapping yourself to this moment. You might never go home. No one else would be allowed the decision you were about to make. You were saving, and damning, in one second.

“Benny, go and wait outside, please” you commanded, your voice firm.

“No, Miss” he replied, his own tone firm. Not like he’d spoke to you this morning. Not arguing, not dissenting. Respecting the decision, he knew you’d made “We all promised Boss. We follow you”

You smiled through a pained smile. It settled in your stomach, the fire, the sure hope of the step you were about to take.

“You know what I have to do” you said. Were you saying the words to Benny, to warn him? To Kaye, to sentence him? To yourself, to speak them real?

“You know- “you gasped out a breath “You might just be right. Fuck the Fates. We have to make our own decisions. I make this one. Good or bad, it’s made. This moment, then the next. That’s how Alfie…one decision and then the next. This is my decision”

You took a deep breath, and when Kaye flinched, so did you. He took it as a sign of your indecision, as a sign that he might still have a chance here and decided to take it. He roared as he heaved his body forward, and Benny gave his own shout behind you, but you were silent.

The whole room lay silent after that, as if the sharp slam of the gunshot though the air pulled all other noise with it.

He fell back, halfway to you as he’d tried to lurch for the gun. Turns out you were faster after all. All it took was a second.

You tore in a breath as the sight of the blood registered in your brain, and then you squalled, on and on until your lungs gave out.

Benny held you once you collapsed to the ground, and you could hear him swallowing down, taking quick breaths as he gagged every so often. Shooting a man in the face was…

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Ok. Ok. Benny?” your hand reached up to claw into his shoulder.

“I’m ok, miss. Are you ok?” he asked, and you nodded, humming as you wiped over your mouth, sickening yourself. Your hands were shaking so heavily you simply lifted them before you, dropping the gun slack on your lap. Blood had splashed back against your fingers and it felt like looking at someone else’s limbs before you. There was a haze between you and everything that wasn’t immediate.

“Does he have…” you were breathless, like you’d just run a marathon, your eyes swimming in and out of focus “Phone. We need to find a phone”

You both managed to find your feet, and you tried not to look down at the carcass at your feet. You gripped Benny’s arm as he eyed it.

“Don’t look, Benny. Alright” he nodded, eyes moving to yours “You did…so very well”

He broke into a sob at your praise and you nodded, wiping your hands off quickly on your coat so you could pat away the tears from his cheeks.

“You did so very well. You did so very well”

“What was he saying? About…what was he saying?” he babbled, and you sighed.

“When we get back, I will sit down and explain everything, but until then, I need you to keep doing well, ok? We need to find a phone. We need to clean this up. We need to get home” you insisted, and he nodded, eyes scanning around behind you.

“There, behind the desk” he nodded, wiping off his tears with his cuff. You turned, eyeing the old thing hanging on the wall, and tapped his collar before making towards it.

You didn’t want any record of you calling the house from here, not sure if that was even a thing yet, surely it was a thing? You used the secondary number instead. Not listed. The secret ‘someone just died’ line Alfie kept.

“I’m not sure you have the right place” Rachel answered the phone, and you smiled at her voice.

“I’m looking for the ports, there’s a ship heading out at 12.30” you replied. Such a stupid fucking code phrase, but it must mean something to the boys or they wouldn’t have picked it. Wouldn’t have drilled it into your brain in case of emergency.

“Oh, fuck, is that you? What the fuck is happening? The supplier said he saw a guy with a fucking gun put you in a van and- “

“Rachel” you interjected “I killed Kaye. It’s done”

You heard the scream of ‘oh, shit!’ through the line, and then the clink as the phone was abandoned on the table. You laughed, resting your head against the brick wall. Ben was trying to sob as quietly as possible behind you and you swallowed another round of bile.

“Benny” you pointed out across the room without opening your eyes “Go stand against the other wall if he’s bothering you”

It was a bit terse, but you needed him to gather himself.

“I leave for five fucking minutes”

“Alfie!” you nearly screeched through the phone, which was now gripped in both blood-flecked hands “Oh, Alfie. Alfie”

“You couldn’t wait could you. Oh, love” he crooned through the phone, and you sobbed.

“When did you get out?”

“About two fucking hours ago” you could practically hear him wiping his forehead in tension “Right, where are you. Let’s get this cleaned up”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. All I remember- “you relayed what you could, the notes you’d taken as he drove you around, gotten you out and marched you down. It was somewhere remote, an old estate that looked abandoned.

“We’re coming”

“I can’t…he was one of us. And he said I could go home. That’s all I want, Alfie. I want to come home” you sobbed “I had to kill him, he was…I had to”

“We’re coming to get you, and then we’re going home, alright?”

You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you.

“The boy, Benny. I nearly got him killed in a…in a fucking backstreet, Alfie” you replied, using the words Alfie had used when he told you the story of Bucket’s dad dying. Alfie paused on the other end and you could hear him sniffing.

“We’re coming to get you, and then we’re coming home” he insisted.

You moved back over to Benny once the call was done, rubbing your hand over his arm, trying to sooth him.

“God, you’ve earnt that shilling, haven’t you?” you joked, and he sputtered a laugh.

“What do we do now?” he asked, and you sighed.

“We find something flammable. Lots and lots of something flammable”

-

The warehouse took a long time to burn, but Alfie had arrived with his clean-up crew by then and you’d been bustled into his arms. He held you all the way home, lips finding your forehead, your temple, your knuckles.

The boys had looked after Benny, and you’d given him the week off, full pay, with a bump on top. It seemed like the right thing to do after all his pains.

Alfie wouldn’t leave your side, the two of you curled up on the sofa in the study.

“What did they do to you?” you asked, your stained hands travelling over the bruises and cuts on his face.

“Yeah…they’ve ruined my beautiful face, ain’t they? That’s it, you’ll be gone now” he squinted down at you, and you managed to smile “only with me for my dashing looks, weren’t you?”

“Alfie…” you trailed off, and he shushed you. He took your hand, kissing the knuckles once more. His fingers turned over your ring, and you smiled.

“Did you…Would you have gone? Were it a saner man offering?” he asked, and you gave a scoff.

“Yeah, if he hadn’t have admitted to murdering many of our kind, I’d be riding off into the futuristic sunset with him right now, for sure” you joked, snuggling into his side again. He winced, the story of a jailhouse brawl and his poor ribs had been explained to you once you pulled his shirt off to get into the bath he’d run and seen the purple blob that currently constituted your husband.

“There might be another way” he kissed your knuckles again, letting his gaze drift away from the ring “You don’t have to be stuck here if- “

“Stop!” You warned, pushing up to look at him properly “Alfie. I’m here. I’m home. With my family”

He lowered his eyes, rolling his jaw.

“I’m your wife, you can cry in front of me, you know” you reminded him, and he sniffed.

“Ain’t…you know, I’ve got a reputation to keep up, ain’t I?”

“As what? Someone with the emotional range of a particularly dense rock?”

“A week. Married one week, no honeymoon, and she’s already speaking to me like this” he motioned towards you. You huffed, turning to the empty room, and addressing the non-existent crowd.

“My drama queen of a husband” you raised your arms, motioning to him in a flourish. He groaned as he pushed up, his ribs probably screaming at him, as he tackled you to the floor.

You screeched and descended into giggles as the two of you rolled about, trying to work out who was getting who here.

“You finish off one bad guy and you think you’re Queen of the fucking Kingdom, don’t you?” he laughed as you flung your head back laughing. You relented, moving your arms to lay back against the wood and took a deep breath as he settled beside you.

“It’s…fitting, right? All his shit about the Fates. It comes full circle. My first kill is his last death. No more moving time, no more pushing back against destiny” you pondered. You lowered your hand, finding Alfie’s where it was rubbing at his ribs “He needed so many lives, I only want this one”

Alfie smiled, kissing your knuckles again.

“Is that your thing, now?” you asked, and he hummed “It hasn’t disappeared in the last three minutes”

You tapped your ring with your thumb and he wrapped your fingers deeper into his grip.

“Just checking” he brought your hand to his lips again, and you laughed.

“Can we go see your mum and dad tomorrow?” you asked, and he turned his head to you.

“Yeah, if you want”

“Not if it will upset you or…”

“No” he rocked your hands together in the air, your elbows planted in the small gap between you.

“Ok. Good” you decided, taking one more deep look at his profile, before settling back against the rug.

He let out a deep breath.

“Darlin’, I don’t wanna alarm you or anything. But I don’t actually think I can get up” he mumbled after a few moments, and you frowned, sitting up to stare down at him.

“What?”

“My back…my backs gone, I think” he explained, wincing and frowning as he shuffled slightly.

You tucked your lips together and lowered your eyes.

“Listen- “he began, and you couldn’t hold it anymore “Right, the second I’m in working order again, you’re getting it, missus”

“Oh, yeah, when’s that gonna be? Our fifth anniversary? God, I married an old man, didn’t I?” you teased, crawling up over him.

He huffed, gripping at your hips as you settled down. You were wearing his pyjamas – you realised when you got out of his bath that you still hadn’t finished moving rooms after all – and they were still too damn big for you. You had to roll the cuffs back up now that you were sat up and he huffed the whole time.

“Sickness and in ‘ealth” he reminded you, and you bent down to peck kisses across his bruised cheekbone.

“You want me to help you up?” you offered, tugging softly at his collar.

“No point throwing yours out as well, is there?” he lifted his neck to look down your body, before collapsing back with a huff.

“I can bring the duvet down? Proper pillows? It’ll be like that night before we got married” you pressed your tongue against your teeth and he hummed.

“It is technically our wedding night” he raised his eyebrows, pondering the thought and you smiled.

“Get some proper bedding down here, shove the chair in front of the broken door lock, light some candles. Who needs a fancy hotel when you have your study floor?” you laughed, and he smirked, his thumbs rubbing into your hips.

“Well, with a proposition like that handed to me, how could I resist, Mrs Solomons?” he replied, and you pecked a kiss before pushing off and jogging towards the door.

Rachel was rushing down the hallway same time as you, and the two of you swapped a quick gaze.

“Rose got Bucket in her room?” you asked, and she hummed with a smirk.

“Toby got Pickles in his room?” she asked, and you laughed at the implication that the dog was your child that needed to be tucked away while the adults had some ‘special time’ as she’d teased you during the early morning walk in.

“Well, goodnight Mrs Kolski” you replied with a flourish as you backed yourself against Alfie’s bedroom door.

“Here, I’ll do them” she pushed her chair back when you stared down into the sink without doing anything for too long. The wood skidding on the tile and she sidled up, knocking you out of the way lightly. You breathed a laughed, nodding softly as you walked back over to grab your jacket.

“Go provide for the family, Mrs Solomons. We’ll have your tea ready when you get back” she winked over her shoulder to you, and you smiled, waving as you exited the too-empty kitchen.

The whole house was too quiet. Bucket wasn’t her normal self, skulking about. Pickles was constantly whining and curling up in Alfie’s chair. You all got on with it but if the boys didn’t come home soon, you were going to go up the wall.

-

“Overnights” one of Alfie’s faceless men passed you the papers as you entered the bakery. He kept pace as you forged ahead, plopping yourself down in Alfie’s chair, and pouring over the figures.

“You’re…Benny?” you asked, dragging the end out as uncertainty settled in you.

“Yeah, miss” he replied with a chuckle.

“Sorry. There’s so many of you, and it’s dark in here, and everyone’s- “you fluttered your hand around “But you’re Benny, now. I know that”

You looked back down at the paper.

“What happened with the last delivery?” you asked, noting the lack of check on the list.

“Tire blew out. It’s fixed now, they went out with it this morning. Stuck an extra crate in to cover the cracks” he explained, and you nodded.

“Everything’s…ticking along fine then” you decided, dropping back in the chair.

“I’ll…get to the crates” he nodded towards the factory floor and you hummed. He was still in the doorway though, as you wiped a finger over your lips, staring across at the picture on the desk of Alfie’s mum and dad “Miss?”

You lifted your head, meeting eyes with the young man.

“Yes, Benny?”

He paused, mouth opening and closing.

“Spit it out, I’m not the big man, I won’t clap your ears” you joked, and he laughed, nodding.

“I was here. When you were- “he pointed out towards you, his cap folded in his hands “away that night”

“When I got clinked up?” you elaborated with a soft smile, and he bounced a brow. He shoved his hands down the pocket of his overalls.

“Big man was going mad. Shouting at everyone. Phone didn’t get put down long enough to go cold again. You’re handling it better than he was” he shrugged with a smile, and you laughed.

“Yeah, well. He’s a soppy git” he replied, eyes dropping again.

“He’ll be out soon” he insisted, and you lifted them, meeting his gaze.

“How old are you, Benny?” you asked.

“Seventeen” he explained, and you gave an audible ‘ugh’. He laughed, and then frowned.

“You’re a baby, and you’re all sweet, and…you work in a dungeon” you looked out the grubby windows to the floor, men already rolling barrels around, even at this early hour.

“It’s not so bad. Don’t have to work weekends, keeps us in bread and milk” he shrugged, and you smiled.

“You got a family?”

He smiled even bigger, and you were glad that you stopped to talk to Benny today. You needed his light, his softness, in amongst the shit of the week.

“Yeah, I uh, I look after my little brothers, so…I mean my dad as well, you know. But he’s old and can’t work so well, so- “

“You’re a good boy, Benny. And I’m putting an extra shilling beside your name” you decided, pulling the ledger over.

“Oh, no, Miss. You can’t” he protested, but you scowled up at him “I mean, not that I’m telling you what to do, nor nothing”

“No, because I own the company. Technically. While Al-while my husbands away” you corrected, deciding it sounded…more…proper.

He sighed a little, hands scrunching his cap, and then smiled.

“Thanks, Miss”

“Yeah, don’t go telling anyone though, because then I’ll have a queue from here to the half-street looking for pay rises, and I need there to be something to give back when the boss gets out, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I won’t” he agreed.

“It’s just nice to do nice things sometimes” you explained “Especially when not so nice things are happening”

“Yeah, no, yeah. That’s right” he agreed again, and your smile grew.

“You with me Benny?”

“I’m- yeah. Yeah, miss” you laughed at his repeated answer, rising from the chair.

“Fancy earning that extra shilling?” you asked, pulling your coat off the back of the chair, and pulling it on “You can drive right?”

-

You rolled the ring around your finger as you looked through the contract, trying to divert the nervous tension that refused to leave your body.

“Take out that last line, and we’re good to go” you finished, passing the paper back to the supplier.

“I can’t do that” he shook his head, and you blew the air out of your nose.

“You can – you won’t – but you can” you continued, and he wiped down his jaw.

“Mark it down to five” he offered, and you frowned “Four, then”

“Three” you insisted, and he sighed. You shrugged “I have to make payroll, too”

“Add a half and push the deliveries back to the afternoons” he held out his hand, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah” you agreed, shaking on it.

“You’re easier to do business with than the other ones” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’m a real softie”

“I’ve had a gun pulled on me twice” he continued, and you paused.

“Wow”

“Yeah”

“Sorry about that” you said, and he shrugged.

“Business” he explained, and you rocked on the spot.

“I…suppose. Talking of those, I have to get back to them, so- “you gave a wave, and shuffled out to where Benny was guarding the car.

“All sorted?” he asked as you tore a pen cap off with your teeth. Pencils. Why were there no pencils in your pockets? Trying to fountain pen a contract on the move was no good.

“Uh-huh” you agreed, plonking yourself down into the seat. You spat the cap out, catching it, turning your legs into the car as Benny ran around to the other side. Your eyes ran over the words, making sure you’d made the right notes, and didn’t realise that he hadn’t gotten in until it was too late.

“Miss” his voice broke through your concentration and you turned your head to him. He was stood just outside the door, hands raised. There was a gun to his throat.

Your lips parted, and you raised your hand to grip the door frame, backing out of the car slowly.

“Kaye, come on, he’s a kid” you argued, throwing the contract down on the seat and palming the pen.

“In the van” the detective – ex-detective – nodded towards the van that had pulled up behind your car a ways, hidden with the other supply trucks so you hadn’t noticed it standing out. You swallowed. No secondary locations.

“I will once Benny drives off, safe” you bargained, and he scoffed.

“He’d be under orders to go straight to Alfie’s men and tell them who you were with. So, no, he stays with us” Kaye returned, and you licked your lips, hand tapping at your thigh as adrenaline built in your spine.

“Ok. Ok. Put him in the van, then you know he won’t run, and then you can put the gun down, and I’ll get in behind him. Look- “you started walking towards it, slowly.

He motioned to Benny to follow you and you took a clean breath, trying to pour oxygen into your aching lungs. Once Benny was inside, he was safer – you were scared if he tried to make a break for it you wouldn’t be able to stop Kaye before he got a shot off.

Kaye walked you both up to the edge of the van, making Benny open the door. A door. Not canvas. No rolling out onto the road once he drove off. The back was cut off from the driver’s seat with a partition, so there was no strangling him as he focused on the road. Your ideas were running out fast.

Kaye knocked the gun into the back of Benny’s neck and the boy grunted, crawling up into the van as you breathed heavy. Kaye stepped back so that he could point the gun in your general direction – Benny would have to pass you before he could get free anyway, so this way he was covering all his bases. You gave a groan as you got in yourself, hating that you couldn’t see a way out. You considered popping the cap of the pen, driving it into his throat, but you were sure his trigger finger was going to be quicker than you having to swing your whole body around with any significant force.

And so, you were stuck in the back of a van, with a poor boy, and not an idea in your mind.

-

Murder wasn’t the first order of the day. That seemed comforting, at least. Kaye had said in his call that he was protecting you, that he needed you for something. You hoped that something wasn’t anything you’d watched a film about during your horror marathons but when he marched you into what could only be described as a mad scientists’ basement, that seemed inevitable.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” you whispered, trying to scan the scene as you squinted into the low light. The door creaked shut behind you, and he clicked the lock, pocketing the key. And then you heard the clink of the gun as it was placed on a surface. One step forward.

He flicked the lights on and you scoffed a laugh, swallowing it quickly as you considered not angering your captor.

“Wow, this is all very Twelve Monkeys” you muttered to yourself, seeing the giant whatever the hell machine in the middle of the room, and Benny frowned.

“There are monkeys?” he asked, eyes swinging around, and you sighed, holding his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s alright. He needs me for something”

“Yes, I do” Kaye said, flickering about with things on the table. He turned after a moment, turning a wheeled chair around and sending it off across the room “But you- “

He pointed towards Benny, and then the chair.

“I don’t need at all, so sit there”

Benny eyed you carefully, and you felt so bad for bringing him out here today. You motioned over to the chair.

“Go on” you prompted, and he scuttled off.

“Right, then. What’s the motive? Let’s not piss about” you shoved your hands in your pockets, handling the pen again. You still had the stick-it-in-the-throat option and now his gun was away, chances were more positive.

Kaye smiled, dropping into his own chair.

“1st January 1967” he said, and you moved your head slightly.

“That’s…a while off” you answered, not sure what the hell he was talking about.

“In both directions, for me” he nodded, and you paused.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

“There it is” he pointed up to you “Look at your face, there it is. You’ve got it. Finally. I have been…waiting for you to realise for so long”

You swallowed, gripping the pen tighter. He was one of you.

“You know what this is?” he asked, lifting from the chair. You tried to regulate your breathing, but it was picking up, and your feet refused to stay still. You threw a look over to Benny, who was frowning, eyes flying around in confusion.

Kaye moved over to behind the desk, lifting a container within a container off the shelf. He held it out before him, a little vial in a sealed glass box, like a sand timer.

“Looks like Mercury” your voice broke when you spoke again, fear twirling through your spine, weeping into the cracks in the column.

“It does. But, no. Caesium” he gave the little vial a shake “It’s how they define a second. The year I was born, actually. 1967, the International System of Units used Einstein’s proof of the speed of light as a constant dimension of the universe to set the time of a second against Caesium. Gives atomic clocks their accuracy” he explained, and you might have found it interesting, were you not fucking terrified of what this meant.

You had to be there when Alfie got back. He promised you wouldn’t disappear. Kaye lowered the vial, setting it onto the desk.

“My mother, she loved time. Her father was a clock maker and she used to tell me about how much she loved watching him work. How he set everything in order. It was our ‘thing’, you know? You have one of those with someone as a child?” he asked, and you nodded “Ours was time”

“She gave you the Caesium?” you nodded towards the vial, trying to…ingratiate yourself. Whatever it was you did to make kidnappers not kill you in a mad scientist basement.

“No, I had to find that on my own. You only come through with what you have, you know that” he replied, and you gave another peek to Benny.

“How did you come through?” he questioned.

“It just happened” you decided that playing dumb was not a good strategy and so here you went.

“Where?”

“The club” you replied.

“When?”

“When did I land, or when- “

“When are you from?” he questioned, calm as day. He’d had this conversation before. He’d met others of you.

“2018” you admitted, feeling sorry for Benny who was trying to process all this and probably wondering if he’d been drugged or something.

He laughed, eyebrows rising.

“Wow. Yeah” Kaye nodded, looking unsure for the first time “2018. Of course, time carries on”

“When…did you?”

“12th July 1985” he revealed, and you blinked.

“Wow” you agreed, and he nodded again. You swallowed, trying to wrap your head around everything. He was not 18 anymore. How long had he been here? He must be…mid 40’s, early 50’s?

“You were…you were Benny’s age” you nodded towards the boy, trying to pull him into to you ‘see we’re lovely, please don’t kill us’ plan. “God, that must have been hard. I know…I know it was very confusing for me.”

Kaye turned his head, emotions back in check, mask fully placed.

“Is your mother still alive?” he asked, and Benny looked to you, then back again when you nodded. He looked unsettled at being addressed. The reminder that this was real, and he was conscious probably wasn’t welcome.

“No, sir” he lowered his head, and Kaye hummed.

“Mine, either” he delivered, curt “She died when I was 14”

“I’m sorry, sir” Benny replied, looking like a child. You wiped away the tear that had broken through, trying to draw attention back to you.

“You’ve been here a long time” you addressed Kaye.

“I wasn’t here, at first” he explained, leaning back in his chair. He had his legs crossed, his hands together neatly. He looked like he was having a casual chat, and it made you sicken.

“First it was 1842. That one was fine, actually. Then 1683, not so fun. The 1400s were hell. I got stuck in a loop around the mid-1700s for months. Turning up here was a breath of fresh air” he rattled off, and your stomach dropped through the floor. He caught your expression. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen to you unless you make it”

“What do you mean?” you asked, sounding as much of a child as Benny.

Kaye motioned towards the big machine you’d referred to when you first entered.

“I was trying to get to the right time. Then I was just trying to get home. It’s never worked quite right” he explained.

“You built a time machine” you deadpanned, and the fact that the particular fact seemed silly to you, when you yourself were a time traveller, hit you quick.

“The plan was, go back, get mum, stop her from dying. Simple, really” he laughed, and you managed a reactionary scoff yourself on instinct.

“Yeah, sounds…oh my….” You stepped closer to the machine, before the thought that it might…work hit you and then you scuttled back.

“My mother used to tell me stories about the Fates. Do you know them?” Kaye rose from his chair, walking to your side. You edged away, not wanting to be within reach of him. He exuded that same energy you’d felt in the first interrogation. A static, a sense of dread.

“Mythology, strings” you shook your head to explain all you remembered. Your heart was so strong in your chest, you wondered at how it hadn’t fractured a rib yet. The pulse surged though to your fingers, your skin tingling.

“They controlled the lives of humans from birth to death” he pulled a line apart in his hands, creating a timeline in the air “with strings that they would weave”

He regarded the timeline for a moment, before snapping his hands together. You jumped, and gasped, stepping back again.

“Fuck them. I tore up their strings. I built a machine, like my grandfather, to move time where I needed it”

You checked on Benny again who, though he looked like he was about to puke, was holding it together quite well.

“You’re trying to go home?” you asked.

“I need you to tell me everything you know. Everything you remember. We can fix this. We can go home. We can…change everything” he turned his head to you, and you swallowed under his gaze.

He flew off in a moment, making you gasp again, and you motioned to Benny to roll his chair a little closer to the door. You turned around to where he was at the desk, eyeing the gun where he’d perched it on the edge.

He grabbed another chair, rolling it over to before you, gripping the back in his hands.

“Tell me…exactly what happened. When you came through. What you did, what happened around you, what you felt” he asked slowly.

You stayed silent, watching him carefully. His eyes began to squint and flicker the longer you held your answer, until he slammed his hand down on the desk. You jumped, closing your eyes to settle yourself. You heard his grunt, and then he was pacing when you opened your eyes again, trying to calm himself down.

“I’m trying to help you, don’t you understand that?” you turned back to you, frowning, incredulous at your silence “I can help you go home!”

You flicked your eyes to his, mulling over the words.

“I’m already home” you spoke, and he froze. It took a few moments, you weren’t sure how long, but it stretched on enough to make you shiver. Then he began laughing.

“It’s hard, I know. I know. I convinced myself so many times to just…give up. But then I realised what I had here- “he motioned to the machine, staring through you with wild eyes “I have to get back. I have to…I’m going to change everything”

“Kaye…I’m not going anywhere” you tried to explain. He stilled at your words “I don’t want to get stuck in the 1700s, or have to endure…I just, I want to go back to my home, with my family…here. Today”

He deflated, eyes hollowing out. Then nodded. There was no way you convinced him like that. Something bad was about to happen. You eyed the gun, your breath rising again.

“They were all useless, too” he said, and you frowned.

“The others. I found them. There’s…so many of us. People just- “he snapped his fingers “out of thin air. I found as many as I could. The detective thing was a good gig. You get so many resources. You can look into whoever you want, just- “

He laughed.

“Just spin some line and I could find whoever I needed. But they…they were weak. They were ‘happy’ to just…be. I thought you were different. You had fire, and you…”

He gave a sad smile to himself.

“But you’re useless, like the others” he explained.

“Kaye- what happened to the others?” you asked, your voice small. How far was the gun? Two steps, three? Could you make it before him?

“The Fates turned their strings from cradle to grave” he repeated his earlier sentiment and you let your breath go.

“But you tore up their strings” you replied “They’re dead. You killed them”

The clock ticked away in the quiet of the room. You were crying, Rachel clutching Bucket to her. Rose pottered around, making tea, clutching hands, and trailing fingers through hair.

You’d all assembled at the house together, waited for them to arrive. Waiting in the office together, the blanket from this morning folded neatly over the edge of the sofa. Alfie had passed around a bottle to everyone, quickly swerving it out of Bucket’s grasp when she tried to take the pass to her father. Everyone laughed again, eating the cake that Gerritt had stopped at a bakery – a proper one – on the way back from the registrars. You all agreed to pretend the inevitable wasn’t happening for a few hours. To drink, and eat cake, and tell silly stories. Rose made everyone get up and sway around, so you got a first dance after all. Esther’s magical store had ensured you were wearing a beautiful dress in your photo, if not a ‘proper’ wedding gown.

And then, when the sun had fallen low, and the darkness had crept into the windows, they came. The hum of engines, the flash of headlights through the window as Alfie shuffled you in his arms.

“Remember what I said?”

No-one reacted to the lights, or the slam of the doors outside. You all kept swaying, the static hum of the record kept playing out it’s song.

“I remember. I’ll make you proud, Alfie” you insisted, and he caught your lips with his.

You stopped moving when the knock came on the door.

“Right, Bucket, up we go” Rose insisted, letting her granddaughter give everyone one last quick hug before spiriting her away to safety.

Rachel grabbed onto Aaron, and you swallowed the tears that began to pool. You pulled Alfie into you, feeling bad that Toby had no-one to hold. Unless Gerritt suddenly felt particularly cuddly.

“Hey Pickles” you heard him whisper, chuckling along with Alfie at the sound of Toby’s greeting. Guess no cuddling for them, then.

“I’m gonna say it, and it’s gonna happen, and we’re gonna be grown-ups about it, alright?”

“I love you, Alfred Solomons” you pulled back, face caught in your palms.

“You had to beat me to it, didn’t you?” he grumbled as the front door was kicked in, and you smirked. His eyes flicked up to the door for a second, and the acidic shock of adrenaline and terror peaked in your chest.

“I love you” he insisted, eyes set with yours, face stern as he gripped your own face and pulled you in. You felt someone try to tug him away, Aaron’s grumbling and Rachel’s shouts begin to crowd out the music as they were separated. Pickles was barking up a storm, and the thought that you had to get him away before one of the policemen decided to ‘protect themselves’ from him shot through your mind. But God, if you couldn’t let go of Alfie.

There were two of them now, one on each of you, and finally your lips parted as he was dragged away and cuffed. You let the one grabbing you pull you back, and you shouted a heel to Pickles, who came to whimper at your feet. They held you still as you stared over at the blanket, the men being carted out in your periphery. Finally, they let you go, and you stuttered in place until they left.

You shot forward, grabbing Rachel into your hold, and waited for the cars to drive away as you wept together.

-

“We need to do something. What do we do?” you asked, wiping over your face in exhaustion “Come on…anything? Scream, paint the bathroom doors, hijack a train? What?”

Rachel huffed a laugh, but her tired eyes didn’t move, her sleeping daughter cradled at her chest as though she might float away if she dared loosen her grip.

“Tea” Rose decided “I’m making tea”

“You’re an angel” you said, patting her hand when she rested it maternally on your shoulder.

“So, Mrs Solomons. How do you feel?” Rachel asked, and you lifted your legs, swinging them up so you could lie down on the sofa. You reached up and pulled the blanket down and over you, tapping the cloth so Pickles would jump up and cuddle you in Alfie’s absence.

“Far too sober to deal with the amount of shit festering around us”

“Yeah, we need to move that cake before the ants get to it” she murmured, and the two of you laughed.

“I was actually talking about the fact that everyone we love was just dragged away to jail on my wedding day” you replied, sarcasm rolling.

“Oh, that sounds a bit more eventful than mine was”

“Just a tad, I think” you agreed.

“I’m finishing that cake, do you want some?” she asked, leaning forward carefully to not jostle Bucket.

“Nah, have at it” you replied, as she stuffed the giant slice into her mouth and bit off a chunk. You laughed, hands tracing the spots on Pickles’ side.

“He’s coming home” she insisted, through the crumbs. She swallowed, and then continued “Alfie’s a tough old bastard. They all are. They’ll be home soon”

“I wish I was as hopeful as you” you sighed, and she shook her head.

“It’s not hope. It’s experience. Something you unfortunately are building up in droves” she added, and you hummed in agreement.

“I’m scared. Does that ever go away?” you asked.

“Not really. You get braver” she explained, not comforting you.

You both lay in the quiet for a while. The distant knock of mugs and kettles trailed down the hallway. The clock ticked away.

“It won’t happen” she said, and you turned your head away from where it had been regarding a patch on the ceiling “But if it does – the scary thing you’re trying not to think about…”

You lowered your eyes, remembering she’d been widowed once already and trying not to think so hard about it, just as she said.

“I’ll help you. You’re family now. Forever. Not just because of…what happened today. You know that, right?” she asked, and you nodded, tears flowing again. She leaned and reached out a hand, and you held Pickles to your chest, just as she held Bucket. You grasped her hand, folding your fingers into each other.

“We’re sisters now. We hold each other up, yeah?” she prompted, and you nodded, gripping a little harder.

“Toby ate the last of the jam. Sneaky bugger must have snuck down and finished the jar while we were celebrating. He always does that before he gets arrested. I don’t understand…” Rose muttered to herself as she came back in, a tray of tea and toast steaming as she set it down on the table.

The two of you burst into laughter, Bucket jumping into consciousness at the sound, thoroughly confused.

“I mean, they must give them jam in jail? Surely?” She continued, and you fell back against the sofa cushions, body rolling in laughter.

-

You’d fallen asleep on the couch. Pickles was still clutched to your chest. You forgot what had happened for a few moments, in the dark, until you moved your hand and the ring caught on the blanket.

You gasped into the shadows, lungs filling with pain until you settled again.

You’d assumed the flash of headlights through the window was Alfie and the boys making it home, but when you didn’t hear their joking, when the door didn’t open you remembered what had happened. You shuffled Pickles off and lifted yourself from the couch, stared across at the break in the curtains. The car was idling, whoever was inside not exiting it, or at least you hadn’t heard the slam of a door yet.

You considered calling out for Rachel, but you knew she’d gone to bed even before you’d dropped off, soon after tucking Bucket up for the night. Rose was probably up in the house somewhere – she didn’t sleep well and tended to potter about, but your chest was beginning to bubble and creeping out into the open hallway to track her down when someone could kick the door down at any moment didn’t fill you with any sort of enthusiasm.

Where had you come to? That the instant thought of a car pulling up your driveway went straight from it being your boyfriend – husband, you corrected - and his criminal henchman to ‘must be someone trying to kill us’.

Alfie kept a gun in the desk drawer. He’d shown you. Left the key tucked away for you in case something happened when he wasn’t home. Another addition to your life that at any other time would seem ridiculous and make you run fifteen miles in the other direction. But now you were singing his praises in your head, padding towards the drawer, shoving the key into the lock, and palming the grip. You took long, deliberate steps towards the window edge. The shadows smothered you in their cover, protecting you from sight as you peered through the slit in the fabric.

The door finally opened as you tried to eye the driver, clocking the sign on the van. A florist. What the fuck.

A man got out, eyeing a sheet of paper in his hands, then up to the big house before him. He folded the paper, threw it behind him onto the seat, and moved around to the back of the van. The canvasing shifted around him, the edge catching just into the flow of the breeze, and he pulled out an arrangement. Someone had flowers delivered to your house. To the doorstep.

Your head flew round as you heard the familiar creak of the third step from the top, head swivelling as you realised Pickles had run off. You tried to hear if it was little paws or Bucket’s feet that was coming. The thought of either of them going for the door made you shiver, and you rushed off towards the hallway, putting your back against the doorframe closest to the entryway, eyes up to the stairs.

Rachel was pointing her own gun at you when you made eyes. She sighed when she realised someone hadn’t broken in through Alfie’s window, signalling to the door. You mouthed up ‘flowers’ to her, and she scowled. You shrugged, showing your own confusion and disbelief.

“At 11.45?” she whispered back, and you turned around the doorframe. He wasn’t knocking. Why wasn’t he knocking. You could see his shadow through the frosted glass, looking around the stoop. Maybe for the best place to leave the arrangement. You leaned back, Rachel flattening herself against the wall as well, when he posted through a slip of paper. His shadow retreated, the car door slamming behind him, the tires crackling through the gravel.

“No way I’m picking that up” Rachel whispered, and you sighed. You kept the gun palmed as you approached slowly, trying to keep out of the direct way of the door. A thousand scenarios played through your mind, sure that this was a set-up of some kind. You could hide a bomb in a vase, right? Or maybe it was bait to draw you close to the door so that someone hidden in the shadows could fire through it?

You paused for an unbearable length of time, before sliding the envelope towards you with your toe. You bent to scoop it up, turning it over, before handing it to Rachel who had tiptoed up behind you.

“No way I’m opening that” you continued speaking in a whisper, even though the sound of the van had long faded out into the ambience of the night.

She eyed you, before tutting, and swapping it for her gun. She slipped the envelope open, and the paper out, eyeing the message. Her face twitched only slightly, eyes lifting to you slowly.

“What?” you reached over to put the guns down on the sideboard, the soft clunk as they met wood seeming like a bellow in the silence of the hall. She’d tucked the paper down behind her leg when you went to take it away from her, and she shook her head.

“You don’t need to read it” she assured, and you frowned.

“Rachel- “

“Show her” Rose’s voice broke through, the two of you jumping as you looked up to the landing where she’d hidden herself in the darkness “She made her decision, Rachel. Don’t coddle her now”

Rachel stared up at her mother, you stared at her. She relented, handing the paper to you, moving to lean back against the wall.

You turned the paper over, eyes tracing over the looping lines of script.

Congratulations to Mr & Mrs Solomons on the occasion of their wedding!