"I really appreciate this," Kelly said, sitting in the passenger seat as Wyatt drove; she continued, "my parents work, and Rachel works, but you're like your own boss so you have the ability to help out whenever you want. I really do appreciate it. I needed to get some of these things done."
Wyatt nodded, listening but not listening. His mind was elsewhere, specifically with Scarlett. He rubbed his eyes as they came to a red light. "...how are you?" Kelly asked, "I mean, like, how is everything? All things considered." Wyatt glanced at her. How was everything? He smiled weakly and nodded. "Yeah," he said, "I'm fine. Everything's fine." Kelly had survived a plane crash. She didn't need to worry about anything else right now. *** Kelly Schuester had been in band in Freshman year, playing the saxophone, and was surprisingly adept at it. And, for a lot of sporting events, the band was expected to be present, providing background music, including baseball. Kelly, decked out in her full band uniform, saxophone case slung across her chest and over her shoulder, was sitting uncomfortably on one of the bottom bleachers as the football team practiced nearby. She pulled open the plastic wrap covering her sandwich and bit into it as someone sat down on the bench beside her, glancing up to recognize a boy from the baseball team and a girl she knew from art class sitting together, he in his baseball uniform and her in her regular clothes, sharing a soda. "Football is the one sport I don't respect," Amelia said as she took a long sip. "And why is that?" Wyatt asked. "Because football is all about brute force. Baseball requires math, logics. Tennis requires true agility, geometry. But football...it's just...people running into eachother. I know it's more complicated than that, but at a base level that's what it is." "Well, I'm glad you like baseball at least," Wyatt said, "otherwise I'd feel pretty stupid wearing this." Amelia and Wyatt laughed and Kelly felt embarrassed. She was somewhat jealous. She'd never had a boyfriend, or anything of the sort, and all the boys she did have crushes on, none of them ever liked her back, and the boys who did find an interest in her were...well....less than ideal in regards to their actions towards her. She continued eating, listening to them talk. "What are you doing after school?" Amelia asked, "Cause I found a cemetary I want to take photos of." "That sounds cool," Wyatt replied, "we could totally do that. So long as we won't piss off the dead." "What are they gonna do, haunt us?" Amelia asked, the both of them laughing again. Kelly did her best to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut, focusing instead on the sandwich in her hands, but it wasn't enough. She'd never have a relationship in the entirety of high school, and rarely outside of high school either, even after graduation. Truth be told, Kelly Schuester, despite her abilities and her genune kindness and her big heartedness, had never once been loved by someone the way she wanted, and she secretly craved it so bad. But, until then...Tuna Salad would have to do, she guessed. *** "Why do you still have braces? You're in your thirties," Wyatt said. "Because I have Temporomandibular joint dysfunction," Kelly said, as Wyatt raised his eyebrows and she smirked before adding, "jaw pain. I had my wisdom teeth taken out sometime last year, and since then I've had these to help reduce the jaw pain. It eases pressure and tension. I grit my teeth a lot, so." Wyatt and Kelly were sitting in a laundromat, waiting for Kelly's drycleaning to be gotten. "I don't think I ever had braces," Wyatt said, crossing his legs, "I think I had perfect teeth." "Well, we can't all be handsome adonises," Kelly replied, making Wyatt laugh as she blushed and continued, "actually, I like them. They kind of set me apart. I got so used to being different when in school that now being different is just kind of my entire personality. Not in an obnoxious way, but more in a...like a...I'm interesting because of it kind of way, if that makes sense? If I wasn't different, I don't think I'd be nearly as interesting in general." Wyatt nodded, listening. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his lap, picking at his nails. "Yeah, yeah I get that," Wyatt said, "like, people use your differences against you, so you empower yourself by being proud of them, right? That is kind of admirable, honestly." Kelly nodded, but didn't respond. After a few more minutes her dry cleaning was finished, so they took it to the car, got back in and began to drive to the grocery store for her next errand. Wyatt always enjoyed grocery shopping, he found it oddly...relaxing. Course, he usually did it alone, but hey, there was fun to be had with other people sometimes. He remembered when he and Scarlett got their first apartment, before they had the house, and they used to go grocery shopping together all the time, even when they didn't need anything, just for something fun and cheap to do together. Walking down the aisles, pushing the cart as Kelly hobbled alongside him, Wyatt couldn't help but feel like that again now. "Do you ever miss being in high school?" Wyatt asked, "people always say it's the best time of your life, but how sad is that? The peak of your entire existence is hormone riddled adolescence? Sounds like shit to me." "For some people it probably was," Kelly said, "the people who were popular and knew how to have fun in that traditionally expected teenager way. For others, like myself, it was really hell. I didn't really enjoy anything about high school, especially once Rachel decided to stop being my friend." "Yeah, that had to be rough, sorry about that," Wyatt said as they stopped so Kelly could compare a few different boxes of pasta. "Eh," she said, shrugging, "it's in the past, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting a bit in the present, even if we're friends again now. Besides, I have more friends now than I did then, better friends, cooler friends." Wyatt smiled a little. He couldn't help but feel infected by Kelly's enthusiasm, and then his thoughts turned back to Scarlett, and the fight they'd had that morning. Seemed like all they'd been doing lately was fighting, and he wanted to fix that. Maybe, before they finished their errands, they'd stop at the florist. *** Kelly, seated alone at a table while her bandmate peers all laughed and talk together at another table, tried not to feel too guilty about being on her own. In some ways, she preferred it, but in others, she wished she could join in on their vapid empty conversations. She continued cleaning her saxophone and then packed it up in its bag and headed into the hallway from the cafeteria, walking a bit down the hall until she found the empty space tucked away underneath a stairwell and plopped herself down in the darkened corner. This was her favorite spot to be, because nobody even noticed she was gone, or was there. As she pulled out a large book about horses from her backpack and opened it, she could hear the clomping of shoes going up and down the stairs overhead, and it was oddly rythmic and relaxing. She leaned back against the wall, knowing she still had a good chunk of time until lunch was over and her next class begun, and started to read. Suddenly, and without warning, someone else scuttered into the space beneath the stairs, surprising her. It was the girl Wyatt had been talking to on the bleachers, Amelia. Kelly lowered her book as Amelia hid and pulled the bookbag against her chest, her eyes red. "...are you okay?" Kelly asked, and she shook her head; Kelly hesitated, bit her lip, then asked, "what's wrong?" "People are liars," Amelia whispered, her nose stuffed from crying, "they use you and they lie and they tell you things you wanna hear but things they'll never stick to just so they can continue taking advantage of you." "Is this about your boyfriend?" Kelly asked, and Amelia glanced towards her, lowering her eyebrows. "What? No. This is about my father," she said, "no, Wyatt's great, he'd never hurt me. No, my father told me that I should give up on my art, and pick an actual career. This, coming from the man who's a dentist. Doesn't even own the dentistry company he works for, just works for them. Real good person to be taking advice from. My brother and I are both smart enough to get into prestigious technical colleges, and yet he and my mother both want me to give up on my art because they think it 'won't be substantial, financially'. As if something that fulfills you on a personal level has to pay the bills." Kelly went quiet and just listened. Amelia pushed her hair back into a bushy ponytail and tied up, then wiped her face on her sweater sleeve. "I think, if you like something enough, you should continue to do it," Kelly said, "regardless of what anyone else might say. Screw them. It's not their future. Just because they couldn't do anything with their lives doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't try to." Amelia smiled a little, and looked back down at her shoes as Kelly shifted, somewhat uncomfortably, in her cramped space. After a few minutes, Amelia exhaled deeply, slowly and looked back up at Kelly. "I guess you're in band?" she asked, noticing the uniform. "Yeah, we have a competition today," Kelly said. "That's cool. I can only play the piano and even then I don't really to," Amelia replied, checking her watch, "I guess I should go, but...it's nice to talk to someone who also understands the arts. Thanks for talking to me. You're not wrong, either. I'm gonna stick to my guns, not that there was any doubt but having backup sure helps my motivation." Kelly smiled and waved as Amelia crawled back out from her space and exited, leaving Kelly all alone there once again. Never a friend. Just a bystander with advice. *** Wyatt and Kelly had stopped at a taco stand somewhere downtown to get lunch, and were now sitting in his car, parked in a lot near a large department store, munching away. Kelly looked out the window as she chewed, at a group of teenagers walking along together. Wyatt picked up his cup and took a long sip, as Kelly sighed. "I'm not saying I'm happy you guys almost got me killed," Kelly said, "but I do admit it's nice to be included in something, even if it something of such illegal measure. When I was a kid, I never had any friends, well, besides Rachel, and even then she eventually stopped talking to me. I understand her reasoning now, but...at the time it really hurt. I also never had a boyfriend or anything. I spent most of my youth watching other kids have fun and be social, because it wasn't something I could obtain for myself." She turned her head back, took another bite and chewed, then looked towards Wyatt, who was listening intently as he ate. "Anyway," Kelly said, "I'm just saying it's nice to be included in something, and be considered a person worth caring about. My parents were my only companionship for most of my life and god now saying that out loud makes me realize just how fucking depressing that is to admit and acknowledge." Wyatt threw his head back and laughed as Kelly opened a small packet of hot sauce and put it on her taco remains. "I was pretty popular in school all throughout," Wyatt said, "but at the same time, I kind of resented it. It was like they expected me to act like an asshole just because of that, and I'm not an asshole. I go out of my way to try and be nice to people, because that's how my mother raised me. That's why I liked to hang out with the quote unquote 'unpopular kids', because they had experience and wisdom and perspective that I wasn't capable of attaining, because we lived such vastly different lives just because of our social circles, or in their cases more often than not, lack thereof. I think it makes you cooler having been a loner, frankly. Like you said, your differences are your strong suit." Kelly blushed a little, and nodded as she continued eating. She appreciated Wyatt's friendship so much, even if she couldn't openly say it. The fact that he was helping her run errands, even if only partially to avoid being home, was also very comforting to her. She finished her taco and exhaled, putting her hands on her knees. "Hearing your voice before the crash," Kelly said, speaking slowly and quietly, as if speaking any louder would somehow shatter glass, "...it helped. It didn't keep me calm, but...it was nice to know, in what I assumed at the time were my last minutes alive, that there was someone on the planet besides my folks and Rachel who cared that much about me." She looked up and they locked eyes. She smiled bashfully. "So thanks for that, I guess," she said. "Hey, whatever I can do to ensure your impending doom is as comfortable as possible, I'll do," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing. *** Kelly and Rachel were out with Kelly's parents at minigol one weekend in Junior year. This had become a routine for them, every Friday night to go minigolfing with Kelly's parents. Rachel liked it because her own parents were so overbearing and cruel, and Kelly liked it because, well, she had her best friend along with her, and that made her feel almost normal. As they walked from one hole to another, Kelly's parents a bit ahead of them, Kelly couldn't help but feel like this was what normal teenage life was supposed to feel like. "It's weird how simply miniaturizing something gives it vastly more appeal," Rachel said. "What do you mean?" Kelly asked, twirling her club. "Well," Rachel continued, "ponies are cuter than horses, they always make the baby version of something popular eventually, and real golf is friggin boring. I don't know, it just seems like people always like the smaller version of things, and I don't blame 'em. I get it." "It's true, real golf is friggin boring," Kelly said, agreeing, as they both laughed; she continued, "I lke regular horses though, I don't buy into the idea that just because something is smaller it's automatically cuter. I hate babies, for instance. They're ugly and gross." "Never be a mom," Rachel said, putting her hand on Rachel's shoulder, the both of them laughing again. They finally reached the hole and, along with Kelly's parents, took their next shot. After the game, they all headed back inside the building that the minigolf company operated out of for some food and to play arcade games. After earing, while Kelly's parents sat at the table and chatted and Rachel went off to find some kind of lightgun game to enjoy, Kelly wandered aimlessly through the crowd of her peers, hoping to seek out something worth spending her quarters on. That's when she saw them, Amelia, sitting alone in the plastic seat of a boat racing game. Kelly walked up and sat down herself in the seat beside her. "Hi," Kelly said. "hey," Amelia whimpered meekly. "...do you wanna play this with me?" Kelly asked, and Amelia looked at her. She'd clearly been crying again, but this time, Kelly noticed something. The locket she'd had before, the one that Wyatt had given her at some point in time, was missing. Kelly didn't need explanation. Visual insinuation was more than enough. Amelia wiped her eyes and nodded. "Yeah, I would, yeah," Amelia said, and with that, Kelly pumped her quarters into the machine and the girls raced. It was never really a friendship, and she wouldn't even remember her name come years down the road, but at the time, Kelly saw a girl, much like herself, who needed someone, and she'd be damned if she was going to ignore that the way others had ignored her. *** "Welp, hope it was as fun as you expected it to be," Wyatt said, pulling up to Kelly's parents house. She climbed out of the car and gathered her things from the trunk. Wyatt climbed out and joined her, taking her groceries while she took her laundry, and they walked up the lawn towards the front door. Kelly opened the door with a key and then they walked inside, setting stuff down in the living room. Kelly turned to face Wyatt, who was now standing in the open doorframe. "Thanks for helping," Kelly said, "I really couldn't have done all this alone." "Well, it's the least I could do, considering I'm partially responsible for your situation," Wyatt said, smirking, before turning and walking out the door. Kelly approached, ready to shut it, when he pushed it back open, surprising her; he opened his mouth and said, "...for what it's worth, I'm really sorry we weren't friends in high school." This took Kelly by absolute surprise. The last thing she'd expected was this sort of admittance. "You were probably really cool, I mean you are now too, but ya know. I was just so far up my own ass with drama, between my girlfriends and my father and the baseball team and everything, I just...I guess I didn't take the time to recognize the people who are actually interesting, instead of all those fake people I spent time with instead. I'm sorry high school was so shit for you, but for what it's worth, even with all my blessings, it wasn't great for me either. And I'm sorry we weren't friends." Kelly smiled, wanting to cry, but instead just hugged him. He hugged her back, then left. As she shut the door and watched him at the window as his car pulled away, flowers on the dashboard for his wife, Kelly couldn't help but feel like, in a way, all the bullshit that highschool entailed simply led to the adulthood she now had, and she really wouldn't trade that for anything. Sure, it would've been nice to know Wyatt, actually know him, in high school, but the way she saw it, she got to know him at his best, now, as an adult, and that was well worth the trade off. She closed the blinds and got to putting away the groceries. Her parents would be home soon, and they didn't like a mess.
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It hadn't exactly been the best day. Wyatt and Rachel were sitting in the cafe during Rachel's break, each drinking their own coffee, neither one speaking. Wyatt sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking around at all the other people currently in the shop.
"They all make it look so easy," he said, "it always looks so easy from the sidelines, but then, once you're involved, it seems so impossible, and it shouldn't feel impossible, it should feel easy. I'm not saying it shouldn't take any effort, but it shouldn't feel forced." "Everything's always felt forced," Rachel said, "everything with everyone, always and forever." "That's a bit dramatic," Wyatt replied, smirking. "Because it's true," Rachel said, "because nothing with other people is every easy at all in any remote way. You're always questioned, doubted, or entirely disregarded on some level or manner. And even when you think you've finally met the one, when you're finally happy and your dream has come true, it's never the way you want it to be." "That's life," Wyatt said, picking up his cup and lifting it back to his lips, taking a long sip. "Says the guy who has everything," Rachel scoffed quietly. "Excuse me?" Wyatt said, surprised. "Let's face it, of all of us, you're the one who's made it. Maybe Celia, on some level, but nobody is at the level you're at. You don't have to worry about money or anything, you can just go out and buy your daughter a pony," Rachel said sternly, "meanwhile the rest of us have to work shitty jobs cause we didn't inherit a hugely successful company from our fathers, and in fact, some of us don't even have fathers who want to speak to us." "Believe me, I'd rather not speak to my father," Wyatt muttered, "...but I guess you're right. That was insensitive of me. I apologize." They both continued drinking and looking around at all the happy couples. It hadn't exactly been the best day. *** "You know," Angie said, "when I offered to help you with things, I didn't think they'd be as mundane as grocery shopping." "Hey," Wyatt said, pushing the cart along an aisle, "you're the one who offered up her services, so I'm gonna put you to work." "Why did you even want me around?" Angie asked, sipping on the straw in her slushie. "Because it's nice to be around a woman who isn't questioning every little thing I do," Wyatt said flatly. Angie didn't know this, but earlier that morning, before Wyatt had called Angie up, he and Scarlett had gotten into an argument, an argument that, coincidentally, involved Angie. Angie just shrugged and continued walking alongside the cart as Wyatt grabbed things from the shelves and haphazardly tossed them into the cart. As they turned a corner, Wyatt suddenly backed up and pushed Angie back with him. "Ow, you ran over my foot! What the hell," Angie asked. "That's him," Wyatt whispered, peeking around the corner, Angie doing the same. Standing at the end of the aisle was, in fact, Ricky. Wyatt didn't know he was staying in town, much less shopping at his grocery store. Wyatt chewed his lip as he watched the airline investigator choose a brand of bread. "Who's him?" Angie asked. "That's the guy who came to my house," Wyatt said, "asking about the crash. He's...he's with the airlines, he's investigating the crash. Says he thinks someone planted an explosive device in someones luggage." "And why's he talking to you?" Angie asked, furrowing her brow. "Because the only person who survived is a friend of ours," Wyatt said, "I didn't expect him to be hanging out around town, but I guess he must be interviewing Rachel and Kelly at some point. Would only make sense." "So why are we hiding from him?" Angie asked. "Because he has the ability to make my life extremely difficult," Wyatt said under his breath, "and the last thing I need right now is more difficulty." *** Rachel was folding her laundry and hanging other pieces up when Sun Rai came into the bedroom. As Rachel turned, she jumped a little at the sight, laughing. She finished hanging up a jacket and then turned all her attention to Sun Rai, who was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. "What's up?" Rachel asked, "I've got to get to work soon, so I'm just putting this laundry away first and-" "Were you in Stonyham the other week?" Sun Rai asked, catching Rachel off guard. "Uh, ye-yeah. I went with my friend Calvin," Rachel said, "he was looking for some supplies for something he's making in his shed. He does a lot of metalwork and stuff. Builds a lot of shit. Why?" "Because my mother said she saw you," Sun Rai said. "Well, the hell is your mother doing there? That's no place for moms," Rachel asked, making Sun Rai chuckle. "Valid question," she said, "but still. What were you even doing down there?" "I was with Calvin, I told you," Rachel said, "he didn't want to go alone, ya know, cause the area is so...uncouth, so he asked me to come along with him. Don't know why he thought my presence would make a difference. Last thing a bunch of drug dealers and gang bangers are gonna be scared of is a hundred and twenty pound white girl, but hey, who am I to question." Rachel tied her apron around her back and turned to Sun Rai, kissing her on the cheek and smiling. "Now I do have to get to work, okay?" she said, and exited. She should've just told Sun Rai that she went and got medication off the street, but...but she was so scared that Sun Rai would judge her for it. So scared that she would see her flaws for what they really were, and, in turn, pull away. What Rachel didn't realize was that by not doing just that, she was in essence pulling away herself, inadvertantly. Sun Rai watched Rachel get her purse and leave the apartment, still just wondering about the whole mess. She knew Rachel had mental health issues, but she had no idea just how severe they were, and as Rachel had put it to Wyatt later that afternoon, "if my parents abandoned me because of it, people who, by all rights, should never abandon their child...what chance do I have of a romantic partner sticking around?" Some people just don't understand love. *** "What should we do about him?" Angie asked as she helped Wyatt pile his groceries into his car. Wyatt pulled the trunk down and stared at her. "Nothing," he said, "we do absolutely nothing." "Yeah, because that gets things accomplished," Angie remarked. "Listen," Wyatt said, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket and opening the car for them both to climb inside; he continued, "as long as nobody says anything, he'll have nothing to work with and eventually leave. Kelly had nothing to do with the crash, she's innocent as rain and he knows it. It was an act of God, not my God but somebodies God, and that is what the airline is going to have to live with. Sometimes there's nobody at fault. Sometimes shit just happens." But there was someone at fault, and Wyatt felt disgusted with himself for even trying to believe there wasn't. He climbed into the drivers seat, Angie in the passenger, and he pushed the key into the ignition, the both of them pulling on their seatbelts. "If he's causing you trouble, though-" Angie started, but Wyatt immediately interrupted her. "Right now he isn't causing anyone any trouble, he's just doing his job," Wyatt said, "and hopefully when he's done with that, because there's nothing to gain, he'll leave. Someone put a bomb in Kelly's bag. It's fucked up but it happens. Domestic terrorists are a dime a dozen, and they choose their victims at random." "But why would someone want to blow up a plane filled primarily with members of the Evergreens?" Angie asked, and Wyatt looked at his steering wheel, his eyes watering, and Angie suddenly understood; her voice lowered, and she whispered, "...you know who did it, don't you?" "I had no idea he'd do this," Wyatt said, "which is so stupid, considering what he'd done before. For some reason I...I just ignored the signs, the warnings. If he's capable of this, what else could he do? That's what everyone keeps asking me. I know something has to be done, but...but I don't know what. I can't just turn him into the investigator, that would destroy my life as well, and I can't kill him, cause, well, that's very obvious why. I'm stuck, Angie, I'm just...I'm fuckin' stuck." Angie looked at Wyatt, her mind racing a mile a minute. The man she worshipped was in pain, seeking out answers. Maybe...maybe this was how she could prove her worth to him. "Well," she said, "like you said, he's just looking for answers he won't find, right? So let that be the end of it. You're probably right. Nothing will probably come of it. So let's just hope that that's the case." "It was about you, you know," Wyatt said. "W...what?" Angie asked, half laughing, confused. "The fight I had with my wife this morning, it was about you," Wyatt continued, "she didn't understand why some random woman was coming to see me late at night on my driveway, calling my cell phone. I tried to explain to her that you were just a friend, someone I'd helped, and she seemed to buy that cause it's not totally a lie, but it was weird, defending you to my wife. Defending a damn near total stranger to the woman I've built a life with." Angie reached out and touched Wyatt's shoulder, patting it gently. "Everyone needs support," she said softly, "even the strongest of us. I didn't mean for my support to be an issue." "You're not the issue," Wyatt said, half choked up, "...I just need help" He hated admitting that. *** "They say a partner is someone who's supposed to be on your side, right along with you, ride or die, right?" Rachel asked, "but...but Hollywood lied to us, and glamorized love to an extent it can't be attained. Nobody is going to agree with you one hundred percent of the time and sometimes you're gonna lie to eachother, and sometimes you'll break up and lose the one you really thought was your true love. There is no true love, though, is there? There's just....different levels of love. Some people are more fit for you than others, and some aren't fit at all." Wyatt picked up his cookie from the basket Rachel had taken from the back shelf and bit into it, shrugging. "Why you asking me?" he asked, mouth full of cookie, "I mean, shit, you think I'm any more well versed than you are? So I got married, big whoop, not a huge accomplishment. Anyone can do it. Doesn't mean I'm more knowledgeable about these things. Just means I found someone with standards low enough to want to be with me." Rachel smirked. She appreciated Wyatt's honesty. The cafe was basically closed out for the night, and they were the only two still sitting inside. Rachel had locked everything up and shut most of the lights off. Being here, just the two of them, it harkened back to the beginning of it all. "I don't know when or how things got so off track," Rachel said, "one minute we were just...talking about about politics, and suddenly we're knee deep in elephant shit, having blown up a man, having caused an airliner to crash. What the hell happened? If I'd known at the start what Calvin would get me involved with, I wouldn't have gone along with it. I mean, the man was in tremendous pain, sure, but...but that was his fight, not mine. Now it's all of ours. His poor choices, his bad decisions, have eaten our lives." "I know," Wyatt said, nodding, chewing, "I know." "What do we do about that? Cause I want my life back, Wyatt," Rachel said, "I want things to go back to normal. Sure it might've been boring, but fuck, at least I wasn't terrified twenty four seven. I miss normality. A life of crime isn't as fun as television makes it look." "Are you asking me the same thing everyone else has?" Wyatt asked, "the same thing you've asked before? What do we do about him? Because frankly I have no idea. We can't turn him in. We can't kill him. The only thing we can hope for is maybe, MAYBE, he comes to his senses and takes full blame for everything himself. Otherwise...I don't see any good outcome for any of us." Rachel sighed and rested her head on the table. She thought about that night. The reunion. "He tricked me," Rachel said, "the night of the reunion, I was so upset because Sun didn't show up that I spent most of the evening out on the back steps with Calvin, drinking and making fun of everyone. He used my disappointment to gain my friendship. I know it's genuine, on some level, like...he wanted to get me medication, I know he does care, but at the same time it feels so sleazy looking back on it." "That's people for you," Wyatt said, checking his watch. "People suck," Rachel said, making Wyatt laugh. "Yeah," he said, "most do." He reached across the table and held her hand, and for a brief moment, they both felt a little better. Even if Calvin's friendship was on shaky grounds, they knew they always had one another no matter what. This was one friendship that nothing could break. *** Ricky was starting to get undressed. He'd taken a shower when he'd got back to the hotel, and was now getting changed into his pajamas. The TV was on, but was on mute, and he was busy cleaning his fingernails with a small brush as he watched, reading the subtitles. Suddenly there was a gentle knock at the door, and he walked over. He didn't answer, he just stood there for a moment, and then finally pulled the door open only to be greeted by nothing at all. Nobody was there. Ricky was confused, and stepped out a bit further, where he heard a soft crunch under his foot. He glanced down and saw a piece of paper, folded neatly in front of his door. Ricky bent down and picked it up, then went back inside, shutting the door behind him. He unfolded the paper and his eyes scanned the words. "Dear sir, you don't know me, but I know what you're looking for. Wyatt Bloom isn't as innocent as he lets on. He knows what caused the crash, he knows who caused the crash. Return to his house soon enough. You'll get the answers you're looking for. I promise." Ricky smirked. Looks like someone else believed in justice. He folded the paper back up, set it gently on the table with his other files, climbed into bed, and shut off the light. Wyatt was in the kitchen, making breakfast for Mona, Scarlett taking care of their son upstairs. Mona was seated at the table, reading a small chapter book while Wyatt stood at the stove, cooking pancakes. To Wyatt, this was heaven. There was nowhere he'd rather be than here, at home, making breakfast for his daughter. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled to himself. Mona represented everything right he'd done in life, the culmination of a million small, good decisions.
"If these animals can talk, why can't people understand them?" Mona asked. "What are you reading?" Wyatt asked. "Charlotte's Web," Mona said, "and the animals all talk to one another, but none of the humans ever overhear them or understand them? Are they speaking a secret animal language?" Wyatt laughed as he flipped the pancakes onto a plate and walked them towards the table, setting them in front of her. "I don't know, but that's good that you're asking the important questions when it comes to childrens literature," he said. He sat down, coffee mug in his free hand, as he watched Mona bookmark her spot in her book, then pour syrup onto her pancakes and start to eat. Wyatt didn't have any plans for the day. He wasn't going into the office, he wasn't meeting with anyone, and all he really intended to do was spend the entire day here, at home, with his family. Scarlett entered, their son on her hip, and kissed the top of Wyatt's head as she passed by and headed to the fridge for a bottle. Just then there was a knock at the front door and Wyatt, sighing and rolling his eyes, stood up to go answer it. As he tugged the front door open, there, in a charcoal grey three piece suit with a trilby atop his head, stood an orange haired man. "Hello," the man said brightly, "hi, I'm Ricky Loach." Ricky held his arm out and Wyatt hesitantly shook his hand as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and took a sip. "What can I do for you, Ricky?" Wyatt asked. "Oh, well, uh," Ricky said, "I'm, I'm actually here on behalf of the Loggins Aircraft Company. I'm doing some legwork for them in regards to the recent crash. It says here you're friends with the only survivor, one Kelly Schuester. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions regarding Miss Schuester?" And that was when Wyatt knew his free day was gone. *** Calvin was in his shed with Rachel. Calvin was standing over the workdesk and soldering something while Rachel sat away, with her own pair of goggles on just in case, while she ate from an enormous open bag of chips. The radio was on full blast, and neither one was interested in having a conversation, instead opting to happily just be there in silence, enjoying eachothers company. Just then the door to the shed was knocked loudly, and Calvin sighed. He stopped soldering, put down the gun and headed to the door, opening it, only to find Wyatt standing there. "Hey," Calvin said, "what are you-" "Do you have any idea how much you've fucked us, cause it's a lot," Wyatt said, entering and then noticing the goggles before asking, "...did I interrupt some kind of steampunk convention?" "Just doing some metalwork," Calvin said, "it's relaxing." "It's surprisingly fun to watch," Rachel said, "it's like watching those shows on TV where people drive trucks for a living. This is someone's job, how wild is that? People get up and actually DO things on a day to day basis. Wild." "What's going on?" Calvin asked. "An airline investigator came to my house this morning," Wyatt said, "asking about Kelly. Asking about my relationship to Kelly. Because now they're uncovering pieces of the bomb from her bag and painting her as an accountable party. The bomb YOU built and stuffed in there." An uncomfortable silence filled the shed. "...yeah," Calvin said quietly, "yeah, I was worried this might happen. So what did you say?" "What could I say? I just said I knew Kelly from highschool, and otherwise I don't know her well at all. Just that she's a friend of a friend, which means-" Wyatt said, pointing towards Rachel now, who had pulled her goggles up on her forehead, adding, "he's gonna come to you next. Right now our biggest priority is to ensure that Kelly doesn't get pinned for this. She didn't do anything wrong. She was just trying to do her job." "I think we'd better have a lawyer present," Rachel said, and Wyatt knew just who to call. *** "So," Ricky said, sitting on Wyatt's couch, Wyatt in a lounge chair across from him, still drinking his coffee; Ricky pulled his hat off and set it beside him, continuing, "what is your relationship to Miss Schuester?" "Not much of one, really," Wyatt said. "Says you were one of the first ones at the hospital to see her. Doesn't sound like not much of one," Ricky replied. "Well, she's a friend of a friend from highschool, I more went to support my friend, you know? Be comfort for her. But as far as Kelly and I are concerned, we'd met maybe twice? Three times total? I'm not saying we don't know eachother, but we know eachother about as well as, say, someone who lives in a dorm with another student. We're cordial, but otherwise, yeah." Ricky laughed as he wrote something down on a piece of paper. "That's fair," he said, "I remember being in college and never talking to my dormmate. They were just kinda there, you know? So you don't know Miss Schuester well, okay, but can I ask you about some of your interactions with her? Maybe, perhaps, of what your impression of her might be? She's a local weather girl, as you obviously know, but did she ever come across as, say...an impassioned fighter for nature? A sort of ecorights warrior?" Wyatt laughed into his coffee, fighting back the urge to cackle like an idiot and do a full on spit take. "Sorry, sorry," Wyatt said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I'm sorry, that's just...that's so stupid. What would...like...why would you even think that?" "Because we found shrapnel and other pieces of what appear to be part of a homemade explosive in her luggage," Ricky said, and Wyatt felt his heart drop in his chest; Ricky continued, "she's on a plane full of people people fighting for the environment, under the name of a monster, and perhaps she had motive to stop them." "But if she were a part of that belief system, why would she blow anyone up? Let alone I doubt she knows how to make a bomb," Wyatt said, "woman can barely use a knife and fork properly." "Maybe she disagreed with the way they were going about things, or maybe she hated who they followed," Ricky said, shrugging, "listen, it's no secret that Oliver Bloom was a horrible person, and the fact that they chose to ignore that aspect of him in favor of worshipping his 'message' to save the planet is, between you and I, kinda fuckin' gross. Maybe she felt the same way." Wyatt set his mug down on the coffee table beside him and sighed, crossing his legs. "Listen," Wyatt said, "I've met Kelly like three, maybe four times total. So sure, I don't know her that well and maybe I don't know what she could possibly be capable of. Plenty of people lead double or even triple lives. But between you and me, from what little knowledge about her I've accrued, she doesn't strike me as the kind of person to do such a thing. As for finding pieces of an explosive device, yeah, that looks bad, very suspicious, but I'm willing to bet if you asked her to rebuild it, she would't know the first thing about how to do so." "Then how'd it get there?" Ricky asked, shrugging. "...I...I don't know, I'm just spitballing here," Wyatt said, stammering, "all I'm saying is she's a fucking weather girl, man. And, just as an added bonus, why would she board a plane she intended to blow up? How would that help her cause? Kelly isn't responsible for such a thing." Ricky nodded slowly, jotting some other things down in his legal pad before shutting it and looking at Wyatt sternly. "Yes?" Wyatt asked. "Can I ask you a question?" Ricky asked. "You've already asked a bunch, so what's stopping you," Wyatt replied, picking his mug back up and continuing to drink. "...from the phone records," Ricky said, "it said she called you from the airplane before it crashed." "She did, and she sounded terrified," Wyatt said. "Well, yeah, that's what I was gonna say," Ricky said, "the airline records all in flight outgoing calls for posterity sake, and having heard it, yeah, she sounded legitimately, genuinely terrified. Which leads me to believe, personally, that you're right, and she had no clue that that thing was in her bag. Course I can't just present my ideas without evidence to back them up. If she didn't build it, put it in there, then who did? That's the question we're really after." Wyatt nodded slowly, listening. He could turn Calvin in right now. He could pin Calvin for it, give him up for Grudin's death as well, and make this all go away, but...but he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't that type of person. Besides, he was as partially responsible for Grudin's death as Calvin was, and he didn't want to risk going down himself for it. Wyatt sighed and shook his head. "Guess you got a real mystery on your hands, don't you?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky smirked. "Luckily for me," Ricky said, "I'm very good at solving puzzles." *** "Okay, for the final time, I'm an ecological lawyer," Celia said. She and Wyatt were standing just outside the shed, Calvin and Rachel inside talking amongst themselves. Celia had her arms crossed, looking clearly annoyed at having been called down here. Wyatt, his hands on his hips, didn't look too pleased himself to be dealing with this situation on what had previously been, just an hour before, his day off. "The investigator says she might've been doing it for the sake of the environment, can't we spin that in a good way?" Wyatt asked, "I mean, here's the thing, I don't want Kelly to go down for this, she's totally innocent, but maybe Calvin would agree to take the hit, and we can say he's just...a nature lover. You're a defense lawyer fighting against big businesses hurting the planet, can't you do your magic?" "First of all, to assume it's that easy is ridiculous, secondly, the kind of cases I work on are about paper companies overshooting on their estimations, not people blowing up planes to save the world from even nuttier nature preservationists, okay?" Wyatt sighed and sat down on the wooden picnic bench in the backyard. Celia sat down beside him and put a hand on his back. "Frankly," Celia said quietly, "I think, and this sucks to say but...I think she needs to know." "She can't know," Wyatt said, chewing on his thumbnail, "she can never know. If she knew..." "If she knew, she could more easily defend herself if anyone comes after her," Celia said, "but you said it yourself, even this investigator doesn't think she's remotely responsible. Right now they're running in circles with no real leads. The worst thing we can do for her is pretend we know nothing. Besides, she wouldn't hate you, you were unaware of what Calvin did, and you tried to beat the shit out of him for it afterwards." Wyatt nodded, slowly realizing Celia was right. He was backed into a corner, and Kelly had to finally know. He sighed and looked at Celia, who just smiled warmly at him and pulled him into a hug. Wyatt cried on her shoulder while she rubbed his back, reassuring him he'd be okay. "this was my day off," he whispered. "Yeah, me too," Celia replied. *** Ricky walked through the doorway and stopped on the front porch, turning back to face Wyatt. "Yeah?" Wyatt asked, "anything else?" "Just give me a call if you have any other ideas or information," Ricky said, handing Wyatt his card from his coat pocket, adding, "ya know, it's weird, people can be doing noble things, truthfully the right thing, morally, but if done in a way that's viewed as wrong, their entire purpose can be twisted. Suddenly what was seen as heroic is seen as monstrous. I'm all for saving the environment myself, but not at the expense of blowing people up, even if they were self proclaimed nutjobs." "Morals are tricky," Wyatt said, "that's why so many polticians don't last long." "Wyatt," Ricky said, smirking at his statement, "I'm just letting you know...I might not be the only one asking about this. There might be others coming forward. Insurance companies. Detectives. Whatever. Just know that I'm on your side, pal, I wanna help get the right person for this, not the wrong one. If you're gonna trust anyone, trust me, cause, if you don't...who knows what could happen." Wyatt furrowed his brow and pocketed the card. "Is that a threat?" Wyatt asked. "More like a..." Ricky said, shrugging, "a warning, I guess. Have a good afternoon." With that, Ricky Loach turned and walked off the front porch. Before he knew it, Wyatt was upstairs, getting dressed, and racing over to Calvin's. And now...now after being at Calvin's, he found himself heading somewhere else. It was time for Kelly to know the truth. *** Kelly was laying on the couch, watching TV and eating pretzel sticks out of a large bowl when the front door opened. She watched as Wyatt came around the side of the wall and entered the living room, and she immediately perked up, muting the television as he sat down. "You know, the front door is unlocked, any old weirdo could just come in here," he said. "Any old weirdo did," Kelly replied, winking, making him smirk. "Where are your folks?" "At work," Kelly said, "what's up?" Wyatt shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed. "Kelly," he said, "...today I had someone from the airline come and meet with me. He asked me about you, about the plane crash. He said they founded pieces of an explosive device within your luggage. Thankfully he doesn't buy that you put it there, but..." "...a bomb? There was a bomb in my shit?" Kelly asked, sounding surprised and scared simultaneously. "Yeah," Wyatt nodded, "a bomb. A homemade bomb. And, uh...don't worry, I mean, I told him you obviously had nothing to do with it, you can barely work your oven, and like I said, he doesn't believe for one second you were remotely responsible for such a thing, but..." Wyatt looked down at his feet as Kelly shifted, sitting upright as best she could, looking anxious. "Wyatt?" she asked softly. "We need to talk about Calvin," Wyatt said. Everything came out from that point on. Grudin. The Evergreens. Brighton. Calvin's past and his obsession with bomb making. By the end of it all, Kelly was aghast, and Wyatt was sobbing, apologizing, but Kelly didn't blame him for one second. Kelly never would. She knew Wyatt now, she knew he was a good man and would never willingly hurt her, and if nothing else, she seemed grateful for having been told the truth. Wyatt promised her that she'd be protected, would never be blamed for anything, she was a total and complete innocent who, thanks to Calvin, had been roped into their nonsense, and Kelly felt appreciative to be kept safe. "This is...ridiculous," Kelly muttered. "Yeah, it's been a hell of a few months," Wyatt replied, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve, "but, ya know, I'm gonna do my best to continue to keep things together, make sure nothing gets any worse, and-" "And what about Calvin?" Kelly asked, "he's clearly unhinged. If he blew up a plane, what will he do next?" Wyatt had been asking himself that very question, just as had Rachel asked him as well the day of the crash. Just as Celia had once inquired the day they shredded those pictures and files down by the riverbank. Wyatt knew Calvin himself was a ticking timebomb, ready to go off and take everyone around him with him, and what do you do with bombs? How do you save those who don't deserve to be blown to smithereens? You defuse them. "Okay, if I'm gonna let you help me, meet my friends, you need to be normal," Wyatt said.
He was standing in Angie's bedroom. Her folks were gone for the day, and he told Calvin and Rachel they would come pick them up once he had his "supplier", though he didn't really know what he meant by that seeing as Angie wasn't even the one who had drugs, she just knew where they could be obtained. Angie tilted her head at him, a confused look on her face. "Am I normally not?" she asked, sounding almost hurt. "No, no, don't take it to mean that," Wyatt said, "no, I just mean, uh...you gotta be...ya know, socially acceptable." "Oh, well, that's so different," Angie said, sneering. Wyatt sighed and sat down on her bed, scratching the back of his head. "You just can't be going on about worship and stuff, you'll freak 'em out and Rachel's already on edge cause of her hallucinations and...and Calvin, that's a whole other can of worms altogether. That guy is always one light switch short of mass murder, it seems like," Wyatt said, running his face through his hands and sighing, adding, "You say you wanna help me, then help me. Please." "What makes you even think I know where to look," Angie asked, crossing her legs as she sat in her desk chair. "Because you were part of The Evergreens, and groups like that aren't going over the counter," Wyatt said, "you know someone downtown has some kind of hook up. We're not even looking for a technically illegal substance. Just antipsychotics. And knowing you...the issues you deal with..." Angie grimaced, then sighed, nodding. "Alright," she said, "I know where we can go." *** Before joining the Evergreens, Angie was...well....it'd be a lie to say she was 'normal', but she was moderately plain at best. Despite her family's involvement, then exit, from a cult early in life, she lived a fairly ordinary childhood. She went to school, she had friends, she participated in after school activities. On the surface, Angie Dickenson seemed to be just your average everyday young lady. But nobody saw the things she saw in her head. They had no way of knowing just how sick she actually was. Because to look at her from afar, in her pretty dress with her femme appearance and her cheeerful demeanor, you'd never guess she saw things that weren't there, or heard things nobody else heard. You'd never guess she wasn't like you. It really started in earnest when she was a teenager. After spending a good chunk of her youth in the cult with her parents, and eventually leaving, she started to cling to the belief that she was destined for more, because, well, for all of her adolescence that was the line she'd been fed by their leader. When she started to hear a voice telling her how she could achieve 'more', she listened. She started harrassing other students at school, but never gave her parents shit. After a while, her folks knew they couldn't let this continue unchecked, so they got Angie into therapy, and on various medications and, for the most part, it all seemed to calm down. She wound up joining the Evergreens and then...and then she met Wyatt Bloom. And it started all over again. *** "How do you even know this girl?" Calvin asked, as he and Wyatt stood outside Wyatt's car, Angie in the front passenger seat, as they waited for Rachel to come down from her apartment. "It's a long story," Wyatt said. "I'm not goin' anywhere," Calvin replied. "She was part of the Evergreens, but she left," Wyatt said, "since I apparently convinced her not to be involved with them, she didn't end up on the plane, and now she wants to thank me however she can. I guess finding street drugs is one way of helping me. Frankly, I don't want to be involved with her whatsoever, she creeps me the hell out, but..." Wyatt sighed and looked back up at the apartment building, adding, "...but Rachel needs help, and I want to help Rachel be okay." Calvin smiled weakly. He was glad Wyatt did seem to genuinely care about Rachel, that they were in fact actual friends. She deserved that kind of support. Finally Rachel came out of the front doors of the apartment building and jogged up to them, looking anxious and nervy. "You doin' okay, sport?" Wyatt asked, hitting her on the shoulder. "What are you, my little league coach?" Rachel asked, making them both laugh; she added, "come on, let's just...let's just do this, yeah? I can't be like this for another day." Rachel pulled open the back door to the car and climbed in as Calvin went around to the other side, also entering. Wyatt climbed back into the drivers side seat and started the car back up once everyone's seat belt was fastened. He exhaled, pulled away from the curb and started to drive towards an area of town they all often avoided, primarily because it was associated with the exact kind of activity they were attempting today. As they pulled into the street and immediately hit traffic, Wyatt sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. "So you used to be on antipsychotics?" Rachel asked, leaning between the front seats, talking to Angie. "I was, yeah," Angie replied, "and, well, maybe I still should be, but that's hard to determine." "Well I really appreciate your help," Rachel said, "I don't have the kind of insurance or money that would cover medication, so, seriously...this...this means a lot." Angie smiled. She was happy to help, after all it's what she'd been doing most of her life. Helping. Course, all Wyatt could think of with both Angie and Calvin together in the car is how Angie had no idea that the very man who nearly killed her was sitting right behind her. Wyatt rolled his window down, put his arm out and chewed on his lip. "So," Calvin asked, "where are we going?" A pause as Wyatt glanced at Angie and then sighed. "Stonyham," Wyatt said. *** Of all the people to know what Stonyham was, Wyatt was the last one you'd expect. Stonyham was a small suburb about 40 minutes away from where they lived, and was often the place where, in high school, teenagers would frequent for their obtaining of illicit narcotics and alcohol. The only reason Wyatt even knew what it was was because before meeting Scarlett, he and Amelia had gone up there to try and get something one weekend. It had been Amelia's idea, surprisingly enough, because she'd read in a book somewhere that eating mushrooms could make you hallucinate, and she wanted that vivid experience to help her come up with new ideas. Wyatt, being the supportive boyfriend he was, was on board, albeit hesitantly. After finding out from another kid on his baseball team where exactly to get such a hookup, Wyatt and Amelia set aside their Saturday night and headed on up to Stonyham. Once they'd acquired the substance, they drove back down to their area - mostly for fear of being robbed while high up there - and parked in a secluded spot where nobody would bother them. They laid on the hood of the car and ate the mushrooms together, then watched the night sky overhead. Looking back on it years later, this would be one of the best memories from Wyatt's high school years, and in hindsight, it only made him feel even worse for how things with Amelia had gone down. Lying there, staring up at the stars above, Wyatt could feel Amelia lace her fingers in his and he smiled. "What if the universe is just a falsehood, like a...a tulpa, cause we believe in it, so that makes it real, but it doesn't actually exist in a tangible sense?" Amelia asked. "That's...that's a lot, right now," Wyatt replied, the both of them laughing. "It just seems like too much is too perfect," Amelia continued, "like how the food cycle exists so circularly, like it was designed to be that way, when really it's just random happenstance." "I don't wanna go home," Wyatt said suddenly, feeling clammy and anxious. "Why?" Amelia asked. "I'm scared of my dad," Wyatt whispered, rolling onto his side on the hood and looking at Amelia, who did the same. Wyatt looked at her, his eyes wide, like he was about to cry, "will you protect me?" "I'll protect you," Amelia whispered, reaching out and touching his face gently, bringing to him a sense of calm. Yes, this was the only time he'd ever openly admitted being scared of his father, and it was to the one girl he'd wind up hurting the most in his life. Wyatt regretted a lot of his actions, but the way he ended things with Amelia still topped the list, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to say sorry, or that she'd even accept his apology if he managed to. He didn't want to make that kind of mistake again. Perhaps that explained his patience with Angie, despite her clearly mentally unwell state of being, but all Wyatt really knew was that he trusted women far more than he trusted men, and so if Angie told him to go to Stonyham, he'd go to Stonyham, especially if it meant helping Rachel. After Amelia, Wyatt made a vow to himself to never hurt another woman again, and instead to do what he could to help them. And he'd almost keep that promise. *** "You ever think about the fact that your hair and nails keep growing after you die?" Rachel asked, looking at her hand, "that drives me insane. I have to not only be dead, but I also have to be unkempt?" "Frankly I think between the two being dead is the worse part," Calvin said. "They should have beauticians that come by and open up coffins for like the first year after death, keep you looking presentable, even if you're not being presented to anyone," Angie said, "it's just common courtesy." "Guys, could you lighten up a bit, this is kinda grim," Wyatt said as he headed onto the small bridge that led into Stonyham, the others all chuckling at him. Rachel leaned back in her seat and admired her nails once more. Calvin looked out the window at the water below them and thought about how he and his sister used to go swimming up at their grandparents lake cabin, and how much he missed that. How much he missed her. Seemed he was always drawn to the water in one way or another, like when he'd shredded all those files with Wyatt and Celia. "It's genuinely terrifying," Rachel said softly from the backseat, fidgeting with her hands, "knowing something isn't real, yet seeing it, and thus gaslighting yourself int believing it could be. You begin to question your own eyes and sense of reality. It warps everything, throws all of being into question. Some people can handle it, but...I'm not one of those people." "Well, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Wyatt said, "don't worry, we'll find something for you." Rachel smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have the kinds of friends she did. Had she known back in high school that one day Wyatt Bloom and Calvin Klepper would be assisting her in any way they could to help her mental faculties, she would've scoffed at the idea, and yet, now, here they were doing just that. Seemed preposterous. As they pulled into a small neighborhood, Angie patted Wyatt on the arm a few times, then motioned for him to pull over here, so he did. As the car came to a slow crawl and finally stopped, Angie looked at Wyatt, and Wyatt sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing her a wad of cash. "Don't overspend," Wyatt said. "It costs what it costs," Angie replied, "you don't haggle with drug dealers, that's how you wind up dead. Seeing as I've already skirted death by a hair once, I'm not looking to do it again." With that, Angie exited the car, and Calvin, surprising the others, offered to go with her. Wyatt watched them exit into a building, and then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Rachel climbed up into the front seat and pulled her knees up to her chest on the chair, resting her chin on them. "You alright?" Wyatt asked. "I don't know," Rachel said, shrugging, "I just wish my parents cared more. They just see all my problems as self imposed. People of that generation, anything that's wrong with someone is either made up or something of their own doing. My parents know I was almost sexually assaulted, they know I see things, but they just...don't care. They prefer to ignore them, because oh no, their perfect little girl might make them social pariahs if they acknowledge any of her faults." "Do they know you're gay?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel shook her head, chuckling. "Fuck no," she said, "god, could you imagine? Being mentally ill and queer? They'd outright disown me. My dad, once when I was back from college after the assault and after I'd started hallucinating, I overheard him say to my mom that watching me was like watching a slow motion car accident." Wyatt felt bad for Rachel. It was clear she'd struggled to connect with her own family, and being someone who also struggled to connect with his, particularly his father, he knew that pain. His thoughts then turned to Mona. Hopefully he wasn't being that way with her. Hopefully he was doing things right. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on her childhood and feel let down, and not because he'd feel like a failure, but because she'd be upset. He sighed and scratched his forehead. "Having kids is easy," he said, "raising kids is hard. Anyone can have them, but raising them? Being nurturing? That's just something a lot of people think they have in them, but they don't. Not really. They think they can do it, but when it comes down to it, they can't. And it's fine, it's not for everyone, but what's the worst is when people have kids regardless of knowing they can't do it properly. Then they just...damage another person. You deserved a better family, Rachel, I'm so sorry." Rachel looked at Wyatt, her face wet with tears, as she leaned in against him and rested her face on his chest, and he reached up and stroked her hair while she cried. "Why don't they want me," she whimpered, and Wyatt shook his head. "I don't know," Wyatt said, whispering back, "but we do. That has to count for something." Rachel smiled and nodded, continuing to cry and hugging him. After a bit, Angie and Calvin returned, pills in hand. Angie returned what was left of Wyatt's money, and together, the group drove out of Stonyham. This was the last time Wyatt ever wanted to come here. Life was dangerous enough with spending it in a run down inner city suburb. By the time they got back to their part of town, Wyatt suggested they get dinner, and offered to pay. The four of them ate a family restaurant, and had a pretty good time doing so. Even Rachel, who just an hour before had been in a precariously emotional state, was having a great time with them, and Wyatt felt like, if she didn't have a good family, he'd have to be the next best thing. She deserved that much. *** After dropping everyone else off, Wyatt pulled up to Angie's parents place and parked. Angie gathered her small backpack and climbed out of the car, then leaned back in through the rolled down passenger window and looked at Wyatt, who looked back at her with uncertainty, unsure of what she wanted. "...thanks for including me," Angie said, "it feels nice, to be a part of something again. After leaving the Evergreens, it felt like I didn't really have a purpose. I'm glad to be able to help." "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Wyatt said, "not to be rude, but I just don't foresee many instances where we'll require your specific kind of help. But, you know, if you want to just hang out with us, you're free to." Angie felt her heart swell with joy, and she had to fight to hold back tears. "You know," Angie said, "when I was little, my parents and I were in a cult." "Seems to be a common occurance with you," Wyatt said, making her snort, laughing. "Yeah, well," she said, "Some people just function better in a restrictive situation like that. Anyway, ever since that dissolved, I looked for another place to feel...needed. The Evergreens were great, but, you were right. I was following a martyr who didn't deserve matyrdom. I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in, just because others are. But you, Wyatt, you're someone worth following. You would've made a great cult leader." With that, Angie said goodnight, then headed inside, leaving Wyatt in his car, speechless. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and let his forehead hit the center of the wheel, beeping a soft honk. "Dammit," he whispered. Rachel woke up and licked her lips. She needed a glass of water. She slowly climbed out of bed and headed quietly down the hallway, heading to the stairs to get downstairs to get a drink. She walked quietly so as not to wake her parents. Rachel put her hand on the stairway bannister and gripped firmly, walking softly down the stairs. With her free hand, she reached up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly, through the blurriness of her sight, she saw it at the bottom of the stairs. It was standing there, its skin clear, translucent, its organs visible. Rachel screamed and stumbled, falling down the remainder of the stairs.
Soon Rachels parents arrived to help her up, and make sure she was okay. Her mother escorted her back to her bedroom, while her father went and got her a glass of water. Once Rachel had finished drinking it, she apologized to them both for waking them up, and they continued to reassure her that it was okay, and they were just happy she was okay. Rachel said goodnight to her parents, and laid back down to sleep as her parents left her bedroom. Lying in the dark, terrified she'd see it again, Rachel instead tried to think about something - anything - else. After a while, her mind settled on a girl she'd met at art camp that summer. She shut her eyes and imagined talking to her, trying to ease herself back into a restful sleep by daydreaming about her. It seemed to work, because in about fifteen minutes, Rachel was asleep again. Now, as an adult, Rachel awoke and rolled over in bed, seeing Sun Rai asleep beside her. Rachel smiled and nuzzled up to her, pushing her face against Sun's neck. Sun smiled and ran her hand up into Rachel's hair, stroking it gently. At least now, even if she was seeing the horse again, Rachel had someone who could truly help her, and that made her feel much safer. She couldn't imagine being without her now, she'd become such a source of comfort. Rachel opened her eyes and spied the horse, standing behind Sun Rai, and quickly shut her eyes again. She'd do what she'd been taught. Ignore it. But it was hard to ignore things that refused to be ignored. Rachel conceded that she finally needed help. *** "Alright," Wyatt said, squirting mustard onto his burger, "here's how this is gonna go. I'm not someone to worship." Wyatt had invited Angie to lunch, to try and dissuade her from following him. He'd even offered to buy her lunch. "I'm just a dude, alright, I'm not...I'm not some kind of seer or all seeing knowledgable diety, I'm just some guy who happened to, coincidentally, give you some good advice that then happened to, coincidentally, save your life. And while I understand you're grateful for that, it doesn't warrant worshipping me," Wyatt said, taking a bite of his burger, speaking while chewing, "because quite frankly, and you can even confirm this with my wife, I'm nothing special." "I know you don't have powers," Angie said, chuckling, "I'm not crazy, Wyatt." Wyatt scoffed. That was a rich one. "But that isn't what it's about," Angie said, "you did something amazing. You pulled me out of a cult, and you kept me from dying for an unjust martyr. I have to repay you somehow." "Repay me by not stalking me, how's that sound?" Wyatt asked, and Angie laughed as she picked up her own burger and beginning to eat. How could he possibly get through to this girl that this wasn't acceptable behavior? His only real chance was going to the police about her, but, given his activities, he didn't really feel like getting involved with law enforcement. Wyatt sighed and set his burger down, scratching his forehead. He finally said, "okay, Angie, I'm going to pay you, okay? How's that sound? You want some money?" "Money?" "Yes. One thousand dollars to leave me the hell alone, how's that sound? Usually the worshipped is the one asking for money, but in this instance, I'm giving it to you, so maybe you can see how much better I am," Wyatt said, pulling out his checkbook and a pen, "so I'm going to write you this check for a thousand dollars, and you do whatever you want with it. Go to therapy, go to school, I don't care, just...stop following me and leave my family alone." "Wyatt, what kind of maniac do you take me for?" Angie asked, sounding genuinely hurt, "...I don't want to hurt you, or your family. I just want to repay the favor. Be of any kind of help that I can." Wyatt stopped writing the check and then set his pen down. He knew he couldn't actually pay Angie off without Scarlet wondering where the money had gone to. He sighed and ran one hand up through his hair, feeling backed into a corner without any options. What move could he make here, realistically? "I...I appreciate that, but I really don't need any help," Wyatt said. "If you do, you know I'll be there," Angie said. Wyatt smiled weakly. All creepiness aside, it was one of the more enjoyable lunches he'd had lately, and that surprised him most of all. *** Calvin opened the shed door, only to find Rachel standing there. "My parents told you I was out here?" he asked, stepping aside and letting her come in. "Yeah, they didn't seem all that surprised that you had a visitor," Rachel replied, stepping into the shed. She handed Calvin a bag of chips she'd brought with her, and he laughed as he took them and pulled them open. "It's not a potluck, you're not expected to bring something everytime you come over," he said, chuckling. "Felt natural," Rachel said, shrugging, leaning against his worktable and adding, "...um...I need some help. You have a sister, right? A sister with some mental health problems?" "Yeah, why?" Calvin asked, pouring the chips into a large plastic bowl and setting it on the table. "...how severe are her issues?" Rachel asked. "Depends," Calvin said, "Depends on whether or not she's taking her medication, whether or not she's in therapy, those sorts of things. Some days it seems manageable, other days it's not at all. It's really a day by day basis type situation. Why?" "I...when I was eleven," Rachel said, exhaling slowly, her hands trembling, "I was very heavily involved in horseback. Used to take lessons, used to do performances, it was such an upperclass white girl thing. It's one of the reasons Kelly and I became such good friends, was because of this shared interest. Anyway, one year, I was on this horseback trail with another girl and our instructor. Anyway, we stopped riding for a few minutes, ya know, give the horses a break and maybe have a snack, and the other girl, Amy, she went to get something from her bag and..." Calvin picked out a few chips and ate them, waiting for Rachel to continue, only to notice the tears starting to roll down her face. Rachel reached up and wiped them with her sweatshirt sleeve, exhaling, her voice shaky. "...and as she was passing back towards me to give me what I'd asked for, my horse kicked her," Rachel said, hers and Calvins eyes locking as she added, quietly, "...in the head." "Jesus." "Yeah," Rachel said, hopping up onto the worktable and crossing her legs, "yeah, it was...not good. Gruesome. We obviously had to end the ride right then and there and get her back to help, but we were so far from the ranch that it took us over an hour to get back, and by the time we did, there wasn't much they could do to salvage the situation. She incurred tremendous brain damage. She wasn't the same person anymore. She didn't even know who she was. I've always felt so responsible, and it was shortly after that that the hallucinations started." "Why is it see through?" Calvin asked, and Rachel shrugged. "Far be it from me to make sense of my mental instabilities and give you satisfying answers," she replied, "all I know is that it's started again, and I need to do something about it. I need help, Calvin. I was hoping you might be able to help me." Calvin nodded, listening. After all the wrong he had done, he figured he owed it to Rachel to try and do right instead. He didn't know how he could manage it, but he would help her get on medication. Calvin walked around the table to the front of her and hugged her. Rachel cried against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "You're alright," he said softly, "we'll figure this out." *** "You're in some deep shit," Celia said, as Wyatt paced in his office while she ate her sandwich. "Thanks, I wasn't aware of that," Wyatt said, making her laugh; he quickly added, "I...I don't know what to do, or if I even should do anything. I mean, she doesn't seem to pose an immediate threat, but at the same time, I can't have some young woman following me around begging to do things for me." "Are you sure you're a man?" Celia asked, and Wyatt smirked as he sat on his desk and lit a cigar. "Everything just keeps going from bad to worse," Wyatt said, "there's virtually no way to guarantee she won't fly off her handle and do something wild. I know she said she just wants to help me if she can, but...but what if I keep insisting I don't need her help, and then she decides to turn against me as a result?" "You're putting way too much thought into this," Celia said, setting her sandwich down and picking up her drink; after she took a long sip, she burped and said, "just face it as it is. She's some of weird devoted fangirl, she's not going to turn on you. Have her do simple errands just to keep her satisfied if you're so worried. Otherwise just ignore it." Wyatt took a long puff from his cigar and sighed. He couldn't believe this. All of this stemmed from one decision...Robert Grudin. Had he never involved himself with that, had he never involved himself with Calvin, none of this would've happened. Course, he might not know Celia and Rachel and Kelly as a result, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on those friendships, even in spite of the danger Calvin invited into his life. Wyatt took another long puff, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. "Maybe you're right," Wyatt said, "it's a good thing you're so level headed, you often keep me grounded, and I appreciate that." "Well, there's a reason I'm a lawyer," Celia said, shrugging. "Yeah, for trees," Wyatt muttered. "Hey, trees need representation," Celia said, the both of them laughing. Truth be told, Wyatt meant every word he said. Celia was the closest thing he had to a normal friend, and greatly appreciated her down to earth approach to various problems and issues. She often kept him on his feet, and that made him feel safer, even in the most dangerous situations. Wyatt really didn't know where he'd be without her input. "And if she really does wanna do things for you," Celia said, "send her my way. I'll give her some stuff to do. My garage could use some cleaning." "I'm not going to use my worshippers for slave labor," Wyatt said. "Jeez, what kind of God are you?" Celia asked, the both of them laughing. *** "Do they have you on heavy medication?" Rachel asked, sitting on Kelly's bedside, both of them looking through old National Geographic magazines. "Kinda? I have stuff I have to take for pain now and then," Kelly said, "but that's only when it gets to be too insufferable. Wish I could do that for everything else that's insufferable. Oh, some creep is hitting on me, just pop a Jerk-B-Gone and be free of that headache in an instant." Rachel laughed and nodded, agreeing. She knew coming to see Kelly would cheer her up. Her time with Calvin had been good, necessary, but being with her actual best friend was a real pick me up, emotionally. "Are you able to bathe, or do your parents have to give you sponge baths?" Rachel asked. "Okay, we're not talking about this anymore," Kelly replied, turning the page in her magazine, asking, "what possible reason could you have to even know? You plan on surviving a plane crash too?" "Not particularly, unless you recommend it," Rachel said. "Eh, it's got a kind of thrill to it," Kelly shrugged. Rachel looked up from her magazine and around the room. Truthfully, though she wouldn't tell Kelly this, she was trying to eke out any kind of information she might have in regards to the medication she had lying around, knowing full well none of it would actually do what she needed it to do, but she didn't know where else to go. Rachel sighed and went back to looking at her magazine as Kelly reached for the glass on her bedside table. "Maybe when I'm better, I'll go into the street drug trade," Kelly said, "supplement my weather girl income by selling whatever pain medication I have leftover." And that's when Rachel got the idea. *** Wyatt pulled up in his driveway and shut his car off. He reached for his briefcase on the passenger seat, gripping the handle, and opened his door, climbing out of the car. Once he was standing in the driveway, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground and glanced downwards, only to notice he'd dropped his car keys. He sighed, annoyed, before bending down to retrieve them. "We need some help," Calvin said from behind, scaring him. Wyatt, just as he'd done with Angie the night before, leapt upwards, hand to his chest. "Everyone needs to stop doing that to me!" he shouted. "Wyatt, this is serious," Calvin said. Wyatt looked past Calvin, spying Rachel in Calvin's car, and he furrowed his brow. "What's this about?" Wyatt asked. "Rachel needs help," Calvin said, "she needs serious antipsychotics. She's been having hallucinations, and I'm worried if we lose her, we'll lose ourselves. She's the glue. We need to do something to keep her stabilized. Now, I know you have health insurance, but you likely can't get something you don't need, which is why Rachel's suggested we go to the street for it. Sadly, neither of us know anyone who might know how to score street level antipsychotics." Wyatt sighed and looked at his shoes. "I do," he said quietly, surprising Calvin with this admittance, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling his cell phone out, dialing, then waiting. An answer. Wyatt grimaced and said, "Hey, Angie, it's Wyatt. I need you to do something for me." Wyatt had been having that dream again.
It would come in cycles. Sometimes he wouldn't have it for months, maybe even a year, and then suddenly it'd be recurring for weeks straight. In the dream, he was back in high school, in his old bedroom, sitting with Amelia Klepper as she relayed to him her story ideas about a new werewolf idea she had. One where a group of werewolves infiltrate the government and make the food supply scarce, thus enacting stringent cannibalistic laws to further their own feeding agenda. Wyatt wasn't one for stories such as these, exactly, but he loved hearing her passion about it. This was often their routine when Wyatt's parents had their date nights; Amelia would sneak in and they would just hang out in his bedroom and talk. But the dream always ends the same. A different way than the reality had. A way that, quite frankly, was making Wyatt start to feel uncomfortable. Wyatt would wake up sweating, breathing heavily, his throat feeling tight. He would climb clumsily out of bed and go for the bathroom, filling up a glass of water that he kept in there specifically for that. He would drink from it, then walk back into the bedroom, and that's when he'd notice the lights on outside. As if his dream wasn't rough enough, these lights had become a regular thing as well. He couldn't tell where they were coming from or what they belonged to, because as soon as he approached the window to get a better look, they shut off, and it was too dark outside to see anything. Was someone watching him? Someone involved with the law, perhaps? The whole ordeal, dream and all, kept him so unnerved that he often had trouble going back to sleep. Which wasn't great because sleep was one of the few places he felt alright lately, even in spite of the dream. *** "Are you aware that you have an enormous snowglobe collection?" Rachel asked as she stood in Kelly's room, looking at her bookshelf. "How would I not be aware?" Kelly responded, not looking up from her book as she laid in bed. "Just wanted to make sure you knew you were lame is all," Rachel replied, making Kelly laugh. It had been two weeks since Kelly had gotten back into living in her parents, back in her old bedroom, and in that brief span of time, she'd become incredibly bored. She contemplated many hobbies to fill the slow passage of time; knitting, origami, whatever she could easily do from bed with her hands, but none of it really appealed to her. Not until she'd started reading about horses again. When they were little girls, Rachel and Kelly had loved horses - it had been one of the things that brought them together as friends to begin with - and together they'd taken riding lessons, for a bit anyway, until Rachel stopped. Growing up, they'd read a series of easy to read chapter books together called "Frontier Girls", about a group of young teen girls who end up solving crimes in the west with the help of their horses. Kelly still had her entire collection, and this was what she'd been recently re-reading from bed. Rachel picked up one of the snowglobes and looked at it, scoffing. "Arizona? Really? As if they get snow," Rachel said, setting it back down on the shelf before turning to look towards the bed and asking, "...aren't you bored to death in here?" "Kinda," Kelly said, shrugging, "that's why I started reading again." As soon as Rachels eyes landed on the cover of the book, her blood ran cold. She'd put up with seeing Wyatt's pony, but the idea of horses still made her feel sick as a dog. She could feel herself start to hyperventilate, and quickly excused herself from the room, rushing to the bathroom across the hall and shutting the door tightly behind her. Leaning against the sink, she tried to get herself to calm down. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and she sighed. One day...one day she would have to face her issues with horses, but that day wasn't today. *** "Could just be neighbors kids, screwing around," Scarlett said as she poured Wyatt some coffee. "Could be, but I doubt it," he said, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping, "it's way too...consistent. Nobodys kid is that regularly timed. Anyway the whole thing is freaking me out." "Could also be someones alert lights," Scarlett continued, seating herself now, "you know, like those flood lights people attach to their homes with motion detectors, and it's just happening to see something and turning on and off at the same time each night. Though, again, that's really coincidental I guess." "I'm glad you acknowledged that so I didn't have to," Wyatt remarked, the both of them chuckling. They sat in silence together, the kids already at school and daycare, enjoying this morning to themselves for a change. It wasn't often Scarlett and Wyatt got alone time like this, and lately, that had been Wyatt's fault more than anyone else's. He sighed and set his mug back down, running his hands over his face. "Anything else wrong?" Scarlett asked. "Do you remember Calvin Klepper's sister?" Wyatt asked. "...yeah, actually I do," Scarlett replied, chewing on her lip for a moment as she thought, "she was that girl who wrote about werewolves, right? She had that frizzy hair and those big front teeth, real dorky lookin'. I mean, she seemed nice enough, just, ya know. Total nerd." "Right," Wyatt said, "I've been having this dream about her lately." "Ooh, are you sure you want your wife to hear about this? She might get jealous," Scarlett said, playfully smirking. "Nah, she's too level headed for jealousy honestly," Wyatt replied, making her smile as he added, "besides it isn't like, a sex dream, or anything. She's just in my dream. I knew her back in high school, before I met you obviously. I don't know why, out of the blue, I'm dreaming about her." "Our brains categorize stuff weirdly and then use it in dreams, it's all random," Scarlett said, picking up her jam covered toast and taking a bite, speaking as she chewed, "it probably doesn't mean a thing, so don't worry too much about it. However, if you two start doing the nasty in the dream, tell me, because that's hot." "Oh you like the idea of me with other women?" Wyatt asked, laughing as he stood up and fixed his tie, preparing to head to work. "Baby, I think I might be into cucking," Scarlett said, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly. He walked around the side of the table, kissed her on the top of the head and then again on the lips, and, grabbing his briefcase from his chair, left to his car. He could never tell her he'd dated Amelia Klepper, she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't be mad or jealous or anything, she just...wouldn't understand. Nobody really did, in all honesty, even the few people, like Calvin, who'd known while it was happening. Wyatt drove to the office, but not before stopping off and getting a box of donuts. Lately he'd been bringing in a box for all the employees to share, and it had made him a more popular boss than he'd already been. One of the reasonings was the fact that he knew his own father would never treat his employees to things like this, and he refused to be that man. Wyatt exited the donut shop, large pink box tucked under his arm and a bear claw hanging from his mouth, when he heard someone approach him from behind. He turned, assuming he'd forgotten something in the shop, only to find himself face to face with a woman who seemed vaguely familiar. "...can I help you?" Wyatt asked. "You've already helped so much," Angie said, "do you remember me?" "...not particularly, no," Wyatt said, continuing towards his car, Angie hot on his heels, eager like an excited child. "You...you convinced me to leave The Evergreens, to not get on the plane and go to the convention," Angie said, and this made Wyatt stop, hand on his door handle. He slowly turned towards her, setting the donut box on the roof of his car and chewing his lip anxiously. "...right, yeah, I DO remember you," he said, "I guess you saw the crash." "I did indeed," Angie said, "you saved me from that. If you hadn't talked me out of it, I would've been on that plane, I would've died like the rest of them. But because of you, your words, I'm here today, and I'm so very grateful for that." "Well, I'm glad to be of service," Wyatt said, unlocking his car and setting the donut box down on the passenger seat now, "but I really have to get to work, so I'm glad you're doing alright, glad you weren't on there and-" "Wyatt," Angie said, taking him by surprise by knowing his name, "let me help you with anything I can. I owe it to you." Wyatt, now starting to feel uncomfortable, politely declined and thanked her before climbing into the drivers side of the car and starting it, before pulling out of his parking space and tearing away, leaving Angie feeling very unsatisfied. Standing there, watching him speed him, she folded her arms and grimaced. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to serve him, and repay the debt for saving her life. Wyatt didn't know it just yet, but there was an out of control train coming directly at him...and its name was Angie Dickenson. *** "I just...I lost it," Rachel said. She was leaning against Calvin's workbench in the shed, as he sat on a stool and drank from his soda can, listening to her as she talked. Rachel nervously reached up to her face and pushed her hair from her face, exhaling slowly. "I had to leave suddenly, and I'm sure that didn't make Kelly feel very good," Rachel said, "but I just...I couldn't be around anything horse related. I felt like I was going to throw up." "Are you feeling okay now?" Calvin asked, and she shrugged. "Who knows, dude," she said, "I can't tell anymore. Feels like the only emotion I can accurately feel is fear, and know I'm feeling it. Which, now that I've said that out loud, is very very sad. I get that she's probably dealing with a lot of stuff, nostalgia and regression cause of what happened, like, that shit would make you view your whole life from a new lens, I get it, but I just can't be around anything like that." "Why is that?" Calvin asked, and Rachel opened her mouth, then looked at Calvin, and shut her mouth again. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. She looked away, her eyes veering back to the floor of the shed and Calvin just shrugged it off, continuing to drink from his soda. Rachel reached into the bag of chips on the table, grabbing a handful and shoving them in her mouth, chewing noisily. Nobody would ever understand, hell, not even her own folks really managed to grasp it. So far it was just the paranoia creeping back in, not the hallucinations, so that was a plus at least. "Well," Calvin said, finishing his drink and crushing the can, tossing it into a nearby trashcan before continuing, "just get her into a different hobby. A different animal at least." "You don't know Kelly the way I do," Rachel said, "she's obsessed with horses. I don't think anyone could ever persuade her to like anything else even a quarter as much." A moment of awkward silence passed through the shed and Rachel sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I need to go home," she said, heading for the door, "I need to see Sun." Calvin was, admittedly, a bit sad he couldn't be more helpful, but he let her go nonetheless. After all, he had once known what it was like to have a woman who could manage to quash all your fears, and he wouldn't keep that from anyone else. *** "It was creepy," Wyatt said, shoving the end of a donut into his mouth, "like, genuinely horror movie level creepy." Celia snickered from the opposite side of the desk. Lately, she'd been coming and spending her lunch hour with Wyatt; some days that meant going to lunch, some days that meant sitting in his office. Today, he'd saved her a donut or two, and she'd brought her own lunch from a Korean restaurant down the street to share with him. He picked up his fork and started to dig into the food she'd brought, as she sipped from her drink. "Well," she said, "maybe she's just an overzealous fan of being alive. I mean, you did stop her from getting on that plane. She could feel eternally grateful. I can't imagine what it must be like, to so narrowly avoid certain death by such a slim margin. That would change a person." "Sure, and I get that," Wyatt said, lifting his food to his lips, "but why's she gotta make sure I know it? To be honest, I forgot about her. Once she started talking I remembered talking to her before, obviously, but she seemed way too familiar with me, talking at me like we were old buddies. It was...unnerving." Celia put her food container back down on the desk and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "So, what, you think she's stalking you or something?" Celia asked, and Wyatt instantly stopped digging around in his food container and looked up towards her, his eyes widening. "You don't think she is, do you?" he replied quietly. "Dude, you're so paranoid," Celia responded, "you need a vacation or something. Sure, the Evergreens were full of misguided whackjobs, but I hardly think that qualifies any of them to be serial killers or stalkers. They were just nature nuts." "Nature nuts who worshipped the wrong man for wrongfully blowing up another man," Wyatt said, pointing at her with his plastic fork, "don't forget that part. What if, now, instead of worshipping Brighton, she's worshipping me? You said it yourself, I saved her from getting on that thing, I could be seen as a divine intervening force." "Wow, someone thinks highly of themselves," Celia said, smirking, "Wyatt, I'm sure she just feels grateful. I'm sure it's nothing more, alright? Seriously, you need to learn to relax. Go to the beach or something." Wyatt slumped back into his chair and nodded solemnly. Celia was probably right. She usually was. She was, after all, the most level headed person amongst them, so why wouldn't she be, and she spoke with such certainty that he had a hard time doubting her assuredness. But something about Angie made Wyatt uneasy, and he didn't know what to do or feel about it. He simply couldn't shake the thought that this girl wasn't just a danger to herself, but also to everyone else, especially him. Maybe he should've let her get on the plane. *** Rachel was lying on the couch when Sun Rai came in through the front door of the apartment. She stopped after shutting the door behind her and looked at Rachel, before hanging her purse and coat on the rack by the door. Sun Rai slowly approached the couch and sat down, Rachel lifting her head up and laying it back down on Sun's lap once she was seated. Sun began to slowly sift her fingers through Rachel's hair, and Rachel shut her eyes. "You wouldn't hate me for being sick, right?" Rachel asked. "I don't hate my father," Sun Rai replied, "I spend hours every day over at my parents just helping my mom because of it. I hate him for other reasons, but not for that. Not for something he can't control." "But there's differing levels of illness," Rachel said, on the verge of tears. "What, and they deserve varying degrees of response?" Sun Rai asked, "that's ridiculous. Illness is illness, albeit mental or physical. Hell, if anything, I think people who ask for help with mental illnesses are far stronger. That's something you often have a choice in. If you get a terminal illness, you don't have really any choices in the matter of getting better. It's already decided for you. So many physical health ailments are already unable to be altered or fixed. But if you fight every single day in your own mind and STILL want help? That's strength." Rachel wanted to talk about it. She'd never spoken openly to anyone except her folks about the things she saw. The THING she saw. One thing. The thing that followed her, haunted her. Terrified her like nothing else. But she also knew the ramifications of opening oneself up to another person, and the judgement that came along with that, regardless of their promise not to judge. She knew better than to ask for help or understanding. "...I think I need help," Rachel said softly, and Sun leaned down, planting her lips on Rachel's head. "Then we'll get you help," she whispered, "whatever you need, I'll help you achieve it." Rachel didn't want help, but she needed it at this point. This was something she could no longer ignore. She had started seeing the See Through Horse again with such regularity that it was concerning. Later that night, after they'd fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, Rachel awoke to use the bathroom. As she entered and turned the light on, she saw a shadow behind the shower curtain in the bathroom mirror, and she stopped breathing for a moment. The shadow...it was that of the horse. She slowly turned, reached for the curtain and pulled it back, only to reveal, as usual, absolutely nothing. Rachel didn't get much sleep that night. *** Wyatt pulled into the driveway of his home and parked, exhaling. Scarlett was home, the kids would be up, and he looked forward to spending some time together with his family. Forgetting about all the shit he was knee deep in. He turned to open his drivers side door when he saw Angie's face at the window and screamed shrilly, jumping in his seat. Atfer a moment of catching his breath, Angie laughing outside the car, he opened the door and stepped out. "Don't do that!" he said, hand to his chest. "You scream like a little girl," she continued laughing, doubled over, hands on her knees. "I do not," Wyatt said, "I scream like a manly man doing manly things, like...like lumberjacking or...car bombing. What...what are you even doing here? How do you know where I live?" "I know so much about you, Wyatt Bloom," Angie said, standing back upright, approaching, pushing him up against his car as she continued, "I know everything. You can't blindly worship someone without knowledge of their identity. I know you have two children, a wife, and I know where you work. I know your fathers name. I know you used to be the star of your high school baseball team. I just want to help you the way you helped me." "Well, that's...creepy and appreciated, somehow simultaneously, but I don't really need any help right now," Wyatt said, "but thanks for asking. If I ever do, you'll be the first to know, promise." "Wyatt," Angie said, grabbing his wrist tightly, "I'm standing by." The front porch light turned on, and Angie took off like a shot in the dark, vanishing down the street. The door opened and Scarlett was standing there, waving at him. He waved back, smiling, telling her he'd be inside in a minute. As she shut the door, Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Celia. "Yeah, hi, it's me," he said, "we've got a big problem." "Are your parents gonna be okay with us bringing all this stuff back with you?" Rachel asked as she and Sun Rai helped Kelly pack. Her time in the hospital was over, and she was being released to her parents care until such time she could return to her own life. Kelly, turning around in her wheelchair, shrugged.
"I mean, places you stay in expect you to take stuff, right?" she asked. "Yeah, like hotels, not hospitals," Rachel remarked. "Hey, I don't think anyone else is gonna wanna use my colostomy bag, okay?" Kelly replied, the both of them laughing as Sun Rai picked up yet another suitcase and carried it out into the hall and towards the parking lot. Rachel walked around behind Kelly and, gripping the handles of the wheelchair, started to push her out of the room. "You gonna miss being here?" Rachel asked, "Being waited on hand and foot?" "Well, you know my mom, she was always the doting type, so I'll likely be given the same treatment there," Kelly said. "You're right, I remember when I would spend the night at your house and she would order whatever we wanted, and then bring it to us in your room on plates, with drinks and everything," Rachel said, chuckling, "your mom is pretty damn great." All things considered, being a plane crash had been a boon to Kelly. She'd gotten her best friend back, her family was going to take care of her, she was on paid vacation while insurance covered her medical costs and, probably best of all, she didn't die from it. She really was one lucky girl. *** Calvin opened his eyes and groaned. He'd been sleeping even worse than before, somehow. He didn't think that was possible, but it turned out it was. He dragged himself out of bed and into the upstairs hall bathroom where he washed his face and combed his hair before heading downstairs in a pair of shorts a t-shirt, only to find, of all people, Wyatt sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with his parents. Barry looked up upon Calvin's entrance and grinned, motioning for him to join them. Calvin slunk into the kitchen, feeling increasingly paranoid, as he seated himself at the table. His mother poured him some coffee and then got him some of the breakfast she'd made for everyone else, before seating herself once again. "What are you doing here?" Calvin asked as he used his fork to scoop scrambled eggs and lift it to his mouth. "Just having breakfast," Wyatt replied gleefully, "just wanted to hang out today, so I figured the best option was uninvited, cause it doesn't really give you a chance to say no." Calvin murmured under his breath as he continued to eat breakfast, watching Wyatt talk with his parents. Calvin felt sick to his stomach the entire time, and not from his moms cooking, wishing Wyatt hadn't invaded his personal space like this. It was one thing to come to The Shed or come around when his folks weren't here, but to put himself smack dab in the middle of their home life, that was...invasive. Then again, he didn't have a leg to stand on, defense wise...lord knew Calvin himself had interjected in plenty of moments he didn't belong. Karma really was a bitch. After breakfast, Wyatt and Calvin got into Wyatt's car, and together, they drove away from the house and, slowly, away from the town. As they got further and further out into the surrounding nothing, Calvin fiddled with the radio dials, looking for anything to ease the painful silence that had filled the car around them. After a bit, they were out on the long, winding roads that would eventually lead to ranches and their ilk. Calvin sighed and rested his chin on his fist as he glanced out the window. "I was having lunch the other day," Wyatt said, "started thinking about your sister. How's she doing?" "Why would you care now?" Calvin asked. "Maybe because it's not hard to learn empathy once you become associated with so many people in such a scary situation, in which any of them could easily get hurt," Wyatt remarked, shrugging his shoulders, "just a guess though." Calvin didn't answer for a bit, then he sighed and spoke. "She's alright," Calvin said, "she spent some time in a hospital for her mental health, voluntarily of course, and now she's out again and she's doing writing again. Been submitting stuff. Been sending some to me to ask for my opinions." "She still writing about werewolves?" Wyatt asked, smirking, making Calvin laugh. "Yeah, yes she is," Calvin replied, "We try to ignore that fact when we tell people what she does because, well, let's face it, it's a bit embarrassing." "I mean, she has an interest and god bless her for sticking to it," Wyatt said, "got far more committment than most people probably." Calvin smiled, nodding. He was protective of his sister, and he knew how badly Wyatt had hurt her emotionally, but it was nice that Wyatt still thought about her from time to time. He thought that, maybe, deep down Wyatt felt bad about how things had ended, and that in his own warped way he did still care about her in some capacity. Truthfully, Wyatt did, but that wasn't why he was here. He was here to ensure that Calvin understood he could never screw up the way he had before again, and if that meant getting him to trust him by discussing his family, he'd do that. Wyatt didn't like how suave he'd become at extortion, but dammit. Someone had to keep Calvin on a leash. *** "You have a really cool bedroom," Sun Rai said as she set down the last suitcase in Kelly's room. Kelly's room was, indeed, pretty cool. It had a slanted ceiling, and a large circular window at the end so she could see out over the street. It also hadn't really been touched since she'd moved out and into her own place, thanks to her parents always hoping she'd move back home (they were sentimental, not disbelieving in her abilities), which meant that how it had been when she was in school was still exactly how it was, band posters and all. Rachel sighed and sat down on the bed, catching her breath. "It's one flight of eight stairs," Sun Rai said, looking at her, shaking her head and laughing, "you're so out of shape." "As long as I look hot what do I care about my physical capabilities?" Rachel asked as Kelly wheeled herself to her desk. "All my scrapbooking stuff is still here," Kelly said, "maybe I can take that up again. That's definitely a 'sit in one place for hours and do nothing' kind of activity. Maybe you guys could come over and help some nights. It'd be nice to have company that isn't my parents. Don't get me wrong, they're great, I love them, but, ya know, they're my parents." Rachel and Sun Rai both laughed, which made Kelly feel more accepted. "Sadly," Sun Rai said, "I'm dealing with a lot right now with my fathers health, so that isn't so much an option for me, but if I have the time I'll definitely do it. Rachel, however, you just have work so you should be free more often right?" "Yeah, I could totally come hang out," Rachel said, sitting upright again, "that'd be a lot of fun. We could order a pizza and play old music from high school and do lots of scrapbooking." "You two were total nerds weren't you?" Sun Rai asked, laughing, "no wonder you were best friends." Rachel and Kelly exchanged a look and smiled at one another, both chuckling. In hindsight, it wasn't surprising in the slightest. While Rachel had always been the more socially acceptable and outgoing of the two - and even then not by much - they had both, yes, been pretty dorky and reserved and found solace in one another, even well before high school. Even though she would never openly admit it, because she hated being seen as weak, the split, which had been instigated by Rachel, had hurt her so much more than she'd ever let on. To lose the one real friend you'd always had...hell, it wasn't until Calvin and Wyatt that she felt like she had that sort of thing again, but even now, they didn't compare to Kelly. "We're still best friends," Rachel said, making Kelly blush as she added, "that's why we made friendship bracelets." "Oh my god, do you still have yours?!" Kelly asked loudly, cackling and Rachel held up her right wrist. "Always have, always will," Rachel said, all three of them laughing. *** Calvin and Wyatt had stopped to get gas. While Wyatt filled the car up, Calvin came back from the interior of the gas station, opening up his wrapped in foil gas station burrito and biting into it. Wyatt finished the deed, paid at the machine and together they got back into the car. Wyatt put the keys into the ignition and started the car up, pulling away again, back onto the road to nowhere in particular. "For what it's worth," Wyatt said, "I never felt good about how it ended. I take full responsibility, as I should. She deserved better. But my dad, man. He was...is....an overbearing son of a bitch who can make a person feel bad about something they shouldn't feel bad about. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, I am happy with the family we have, but...your sister was a great partner and she taught me a lot." "Yeah, well," Calvin said, taking another bite, "she's not interested in communicating with anyone anymore. She can see how easily she can be used and manipulated now, so she just figures what's the point." "Jesus, I'm so sorry, I screwed up so bad," Wyatt said, "but I'm willing to take the blame, and learn from it, grow. You can't continue to make the same mistake repeatedly, claim you're changed from it and then go right back to doing it, you understand what I mean?" Calvin's eyes slowly headed over to Wyatt, and he sighed. "Alright," Calvin said, wrapping the rest of his burrito up and setting it in his lap, "come out and say it." "You can't do what you did again," Wyatt said sternly. "You don't think I'm aware of that?" Calvin asked. "At some point, someone is going to open an investigation into what happened, and it might very well lead to us. That's something we're going to have to deal with, but even still, Calvin, you can't do anything like that again. I know you were pissed at Wattson, I get it, and hell, he and even the Evergreens kind of deserved it, but...we can't continue down this path. We need to course correct." Calvin sighed again and rubbed his chin, his somewhat beared face, and then looked out the window. "You know what Amelia did after you dumped her?" Calvin asked, "she spent weeks crying in her room, refusing to go to school again. Finally, our parents, not knowing how to handle it, asked me to go in and see what I could do about it, and when I talked to her about it, you wanna know what she asked me? She asked me what it was about her that made people hurt her the way they did. Was she naive, too trusting, just plain stupid? I couldn't give her an answer. But you weren't the first person to hurt her. She had people pretend to be her friend to use her class, people feign romantic interest in her simply to humiliate her, so while you were genuine in your interest in her, you were the straw that broke the camels back." Wyatt felt his eyes water up, and he wanted to cry. He didn't want to be responsible for a woman losing all her self worth. "But," Calvin said, "I just told her that nothing was wrong with her, when, in reality, that's not the truth. I lied to her though, because that seemed the best course of action. Why let her feel even worse when she was already at her lowest? Truth be told, yeah, there was something wrong with her. She was too naive. Too trusting. Too desperate. She's sick. She's extremely sick in the head. But I wasn't about to lay blame for others actions at her feet, even if she was somewhat responsible at times. So I did what any big brother would do. I covered it up. I made it the fault of others, because it was mostly the fault of others. You weren't the worst person she dealt with Wyatt, but you hurt the worst because of your genuinness, and I don't think she'll ever get over that. So sure, I've made mistakes, things I can't take back, but if I can't keep making the same mistake, neither can you." Wyatt pulled the car over to the side of the road and buried his face in his arms on the steering wheel, sobbing. "We both have to be better," Calvin said, as he reached out and put his hand on Wyatt's shoulder, comforting him. Even above Scarlett, Rachel, Kelly, anyone else, the one person he'd never wanted to hurt was Amelia simply because he knew how fragile and delicate she had been. And yet he had. He'd not only hurt her, hell, he'd outright broken her. Calvin might forgive him, but could he ever forgive himself? "Let's both try harder," Calvin said, and Wyatt nodded. "I like that arrangement," Wyatt said softly. *** Sun Rai panted, breathing heavily as Rachel kissed down her neck. After having dinner at Kelly's, they made their way back to the apartment, and for some reason, Rachel couldn't get the idea of sex of her mind. Maybe she just needed the release, but she took Sun Rai to the bedroom immediately upon getting into the apartment. "You're doing such a good thing," Sun Rai said as Rachel kissed down to her collarbone, unbuttoning her shirt, "because most people would just turn tail and run, not help their friend like this. People like to act like they'll be there no matter what for someone, but truth is, most people know talk is cheap." "Yeah, well," Rachel said, kissing Sun Rai's now bare shoulders, "I do what I can for those that need it." After the sex, Sun Rai was asleep, but Rachel couldn't sleep. All she could think about was Kelly, sitting alone in her bedroom. Rachel climbed out of bed, headed into the living room and grabbed the cordless phone, dialing Kelly's house number. Surprisingly, Kelly picked up, and Rachel remembered the old cheeseburger phone she had in her bedroom. "I didn't think you would be up," Rachel said, "I thought maybe you'd fall asleep early, cause, ya know, it's exhausting moving somewhere." "Well, to be fair, I didn't do much of the manual labor," Kelly remarked, the both of them laughing. Rache lounged on her couch and lit a cigarette, taking a puff. "So what are you doing?" Rachel asked. "Nothin' really," Kelly said, "there's a really bad horror movie on Channel 48." Rachel grabbed her remote and turned the TV on, then flipped to that channel. Together they sat and watched, ridiculing it over the phone, just like they used to when they were teenagers. It was so easy, Rachel realized, so surprisingly easy actually, to fall right back into that same relationship you once had with someone if you really cared about one another. In spite of what had happened, even in spite of the recent events, Rachel had always cared deeply for Kelly, almost like a sister, and Kelly felt the same. Rachel thought about her time with Wyatt's family having dinner, being friends with Scarlett through their art appreciation, her love with Sun Rai, and now her rekindled friendship with Kelly, falling right back into the same reporte that they'd always had and she realized that, even without her parents, she had a family of sorts, and that counted for something. They made fun of the movie well into the early morning, and it was the best either girl had felt in months. "It's weird," Kelly said, sitting up in her hospital bed, "my whole life I'd never been able to survive any kind of physical activity of any kind. That's why I never want out for any sports. Remember when I broke my tailbone just from falling off the monkey bars in 5th grade?"
Rachel nodded, sitting in the chair beside the bed. "And yet, here I am, having survived a plane crash," Kelly continued, "who'd have thought, of all the people we know, that I'd be the one who'd manage to achieve that." "It's not a skill," Rachel remarked. "I know that," Kelly said, "but it's still pretty damn impressive. The odds of it being me, out of all those people, is wild. None of The Evergreens, not even the guy sitting next to me-" Rachel looked up from her yogurt, spoon sticking from between her lips. Kelly noticed her and elaborated. "Some older guy in a sweatervest," she said, "might've been a teacher, I don't know." Of course. Wattson. Rachel continued eating. The last thing she wanted to discuss, in all honesty, was the crash, but it seemed oddly therapeutic for Kelly, so she let her prattle on and on long as she wanted, because it kept her interested and awake. Really, though, Rachel was just happy to finally be able to see her, especially after a few scary days of thinking she'd never see her best friend again. "Hey, at least now you'll have a cool story to tell on dates," Rachel said. "Right, like I get asked out," Kelly said. The door to her room opened and Wyatt entered, carrying a box of donuts and setting it down on Kelly's lap. She lit up immediately and threw the box lid open, grabbing a sprinkle covered donut as Wyatt sat down beside Rachel, handing her a coffee, which she politely thanked him for. "Plus now I get spoiled," Kelly said, mouth full of donut, "if that isn't worth the terror of a free fall from the sky, I don't know what is." Rachel smiled weakly. So many things she wanted to say. Apologize for. Like how she'd inadvertently been involved in the crash to begin with, but if she ever told Kelly that, she knew it would be the end of everything. So instead she just smiled, nodded, went along with the conversation, ignoring all the goodwill in her heart to do the right thing. After all, she'd not been doing the right thing for so long now, what was one more lie added to the pile, in reality? And Wyatt? Wyatt did the same. He didn't want to lose Kelly's friendship, after he thought he'd nearly lost her wholesale as it was. Besides, much as he cared about her, he wasn't actually here to talk to Kelly. He was here to talk to Rachel, and all because of an interaction he'd had earlier in the day. *** That morning, when Wyatt woke up, he went downstairs, found breakfast already made and Scarlett and the kids eating, and he smiled to himself. A return to at least semi normalcy was more than welcome at this point. He got himself some coffee from the pot before seating himself at the table, all of them eating in silence. Mona was reading a book, her little brother was babbling happily, and Scarlett was scrolling through her social media feed on her phone. "What motivated you to make an entire breakfast spread?" Wyatt asked as he pulled some pancakes onto his plate and began pouring syrup over them. "Well, I started to feel like less of a mom after watching nothing but 80s sitcoms all day," Scarlett replied flatly, the both of them laughing at this response. After breakfast, Wyatt went upstairs, took a shower, got dressed, said goodbye to his family and headed to work. However, the last thing he expected to find once he entered his office was Celia, of all people, who had apparently been waiting for him since work started. He jumped a little at the sight of her, then straightened out his tie and put his briefcase down by the desk as he sat in his office chair. "What're you doing here?" he asked, checking his watch, "Isn't this a little early for a meeting?" "We need to talk about Calvin," Celia said coldly, and Wyatt nodded. "Yeah...yeah I know." "He's unhinged," Celia said, "he's...I mean he's an out and out danger to anyone and everyone around us, and he's the thread that will unspool it all if we don't do something to get him under control of some sort." "You sound like a mob boss," Wyatt said, grinning, making her smirk. "Listen," Celia said, standing up and pacing, "...blowing up one guy? It's bad, but it's manageable. But blowing up an entire plane, killing literally over a hundred people? That...that's not so manageable. What if he gets the itch to do something worse. What if some other prominent figure attached to the whole thing emerges, and he has to...I don't know, derail a train?" "A train?" Wyatt asked, laughing, "Who is he, Dick Dastardly?" "Wyatt, I'm being serious, you know what I'm talking about. If he's capable of terrorism on that level, then he's capable of anything, and we need a contingency plan of some sort in place to deal with it when that time comes." "You mean if." "No, I think we both know I mean when," Celia said, looking sternly at Wyatt's face. This was when it dawned on Wyatt just how right Celia was. It wasn't a matter of if. It was a matter of when. He sighed, stood up and walked over to Celia, putting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her back to her seat. Celia reluctantly took her seat again, as Wyatt sat on his desk in front of her, holding her hands, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs in a comforting manner. "Listen," Wyatt said, "leave Calvin to me, okay? I know you're right. I know that moment is going to come. But you don't have to worry about it. You have your job and your son, and you don't need to be struggling with Calvin's bullshit as well. Leave him to me and maybe Rachel. We'll figure something out, I promise. And unlike my father, I don't make promises for the sake of looking good. I'll actually follow through on them. So when I promise you something, rest assured you can take it at face value." Celia smiled, nodding. She did believe Wyatt. Up to this point, he'd done his best to keep her and Rachel as shielded as possible for Calvin's batshit attitude and actions, and up to this point he hadn't let them down, so why should she think he would? Wyatt let go of her hands and walked back around behind his desk, sitting back down as Celia turned around in her chair, facing him. "Why'd you say that about your father?" she asked, "you never talk about him." "Because he's an awful bag of shit," Wyatt said, "and because I've done my damndest to not be anything like him. Rest assured, the only thing we have in common at this juncture is our last name, and even that I'm not too crazy about. I actually thought about taking Scarlett's last name when we married just to have absolutely nothing in common with my father, but Wyatt Demure made me sound like some kind of old timey cowboy, and...I mean, that's not uncool but it's not exactly business like." Celia laughed, listening. She was grateful to have Wyatt to calm her nerves, nerves which were beginning to get frayed at each end. So she sat there and she listened to him joke and she tried to let herself forget about the potential danger they were constantly in. A few hours into it, Wyatt suggested they go to lunch, and frankly, Celia couldn't think of a better way to spend an afternoon. *** When Rachel entered Kelly's room for the first time, she almost burst into tears. Kelly wasn't asleep, she was just resting, but seeing her best friend in a hospital bed, after having survived something almost nobody survives...it really made her feel emotional. She approached the bed lightly and sat down in the chair beside it, almost as if it'd been placed there expecting her. Kelly slowly opened her eyes and looked towards Rachel, who just smiled at her. "Hey," Kelly whispered, "you finally showed up." "I did, yeah," Rachel replied, "I brought Yogurt. Do you want Yogurt?" "It's one of the few things they let me have in here, so not really," Kelly said, chuckling, "kind of sick of it by now, but thanks for thinking of me. I appreciate that." "How are you feeling?" Rachel asked, and Kelly pursed her lips, thinking. How was she feeling? She'd been on her way to a convention for work and somehow wound up surviving a plane crash in the process. She should be feeling invincible, but instead she found that she felt more...fragile than anything. Like life could be taken from her at any moment, because, when she faced reality, she realized that her survival was a fluke. She could've just as easily died like the others. So she didn't feel invincible. She just felt lucky. Grateful. To still be here, still have her friends, her life. "I feel..." Kelly started, "...alive." "Well that's an answer," Rachel remarked, chuckling as she pulled the lid off her Yogurt, dumped in the little granola bits on top and dug in with the tiny plastic spoon provided, adding, "when do you think you'll be able to get out of here? I mean, how bad of shape are you in?" "My left leg is completely shattered, bone wise," Kelly said, "I'll be in a cast for months. On crutches for a while, and that's if I even should be allowed out of bed. Other than that, I'm surprisingly okay. I'll probably be staying with my folks, though, since being on my own in my apartment is likely a bad idea." And just as she said this, the door to the room opened again and in walked her parents, Allen and Carol. They stopped at the sight of Rachel, surprised, having not seen her in years. Rachel stood up and set her yogurt down on the table, and was suddenly hugged tightly by them both, which surprised her. She hadn't expected such a warm welcome, especially after how things had gone down between Kelly and her in high school, but here she was, always the ever present familiar face, ready to help. "We didn't know she was having a visitor," Allen said, as he pulled away and sat down on the bedside by Kelly, stroking her face, "if we'd known we'd have come prepared with more snacks and stuff." "Oh, it's okay, I brought my own snacks," Rachel replied, snickering. Rachel's eyes then turned to Kelly's mother, Carol, who was still hugging her, looking at her. Rachel felt a sense of unease, and politely squirmed away, excusing herself. Once out in the hall, she leaned against the now shut door and breathed, her chest rising and falling fast. She didn't know why Carol had been eyeballing her the way that she had, and it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She needed comfort food. She needed a candy bar. She felt around in her back pants pocket to discover her wallet, and headed to the candy machine down the hall. If there's one thing that can calm a girls nerves, she thought, it's chocolate. *** "When I was a boy," Wyatt said, cutting his sandwich in half at the table on the outdoor patio of the bistro they'd gone to lunch for, "and not the strapping young lad you see before you now, my father and I had an okay enough relationship. I mean, it wasn't great, we weren't playing catch every day and bonding like you see in commercials, but hey, that's why they're commercials, right? An idealized lie about reality, meant to make you feel insecure about your own so you buy their product." "Wow, you really understand marketing," Celia said, sipping on her iced tea. "Well, I work in business, so," Wyatt said, taking a bite from his sandwich; he chewed, swallowed, then continued, "anyway, so we got along pretty alright. But once I got to be a teenager, I started spending a lot of time with my mom, and between that and my first girlfriend, I kind of...stopped being an asshole. I mean, I was never an asshole asshole, but I had that guy mentality that all guys start out with, right? Thinking you're the center of the universe, the best, biggest and brightest. I was never mean to women, but I also never considered them much. But my first girlfriend, Amelia, she especially opened my eyes to how hard things were for women, and after that, I started seeing my father in a whole new light, and he frankly wasn't happy about that or her." "Sounds like a wonderfully delightful man," Celia said, sticking her fork into her her chicken salad. "And then he started verbally abusing my mom," Wyatt said, "never got physical, but shit, some of the stuff he said was just downright cruel. I promised myself I'd never be like that. I wound up being sort of like that though. Not intentionally, however. When I broke things off with Amelia, I wasn't...I wasn't exactly nice about it. Besides, we were kind of dating in secret. I was already pretty popular, and she was that weird girl that everyone made fun of and I just didn't want anyone to know I was seeing her for fear of my reputation. In hindsight, that's ridiculously petty and shallow of me and I regret it every single day." "Well at least you've shown growth, recognition is the first step to betterment," Celia said, "what happened to her? How did she take it?" "Not well," Wyatt said, picking up his beer glass and taking a long drink, then adding, "she kind of...had a breakdown. My father was pleased when I started dating Scarlett though, because even in spite of her feminist mindset, she was, apparently, more socially acceptable as a woman than Amelia was. He's such a creep. I never wanna look at women the way he did or continues to do." "You know," Celia said, spearing a tiny tomato and pulling it up to her face, "if you'd told me that the most popular boy in our high school, the jock of all jocks, would wind up being a feminist, I don't think I'd have believed you, and yet here we are. Stranger things have happened I suppose." Wyatt laughed and nodded. Indeed, it was funny, even to him. "So where's Amelia these days? Is she okay?" Celia asked, and Wyatt shrugged. "You'd have to ask Calvin," Wyatt said, his voice lowering, "...she was his sister." *** Rachel pumped in the corresponding numbers and letters to the keypad and awaited her delicious treat to be given to her from the vending machine. Standing there, tapping her nails on the metal of the machine, she didn't even hear Kelly's mom, Carol, coming up from behind her. When she felt a hand on her arm, Rachel screamed a little, jumped back and then put a hand to her chest to catch her breath, half laughing. Carol was laughing as well. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Carol said. "That's...that's okay," Rachel replied, "It's just been a tense few days, I haven't had time to do Yoga or meditate or anything." "You do Yoga and meditate?" Carol asked. "No, but I still don't have the time to," Rachel replied, making Carol laugh again. She heard the clunk of her candy bar drop into the bucket, and reached down to retrieve it. Once she pulled back the wrapper, she offered some to Carol, who politely declined. Together, with Rachel munching away on it, they walked back down the hall. "I wanted to speak with you," Carol said, "about what happened in school, between you and Kelly. We never really got a chance to talk after that, and...you were always at our house, almost like a second daughter. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Kelly was destroyed by the falling out, so I just...I wanted to make sure you were alright." "Well, considering it's been over a decade at this point, I'd say I'm pretty alright, yeah," Rachel said, "I'm managing well enough." "Rachel," Carol said, stopping in the hall, forcing Rachel to do the same and face her; she continued, "...I want you to know that we aren't mad at you. Friends have fights. Sometimes they don't come back from it. But you two did, and it didn't even take a tragedy for it to happen. You became friends again before the crash. That makes it truly genuine. You're not acting out of fear or regret. Regardless, Allen and I aren't mad with you. Especially after hearing from your mother what that man tried to do to you, even if she didn't believe it herself, we do." Rachel felt her heart flutter. Her eyes watered. "Kelly's told us a lot about you since you guys started hanging out again," Carol said, approaching Rachel and taking her hands in her own, "and we want you to know that...we accept you. Hell, we always kind of had our suspicions anyway. But we accept you nonetheless. You'll always be like a second daughter to us. We know your mother is...well, to put it bluntly, out of her damn mind, and that not having parents of any kind can make the world feel incredibly small and lonely, so we want you to know that we're here for you. You're here for Kelly, so we're here for you. We don't care if you're gay. We'll always love you." Rachel finally snapped. Everything she'd been holding back since the crash, all the tension and fear and anxiety, it finally burst through her chest like a dam of emotions, and she flooded Carol with her feelings. She threw her arms around Carol and hugged her tightly, with Carol rubbing her back, comforting her. Carol was right. The world WAS infinitely smaller and lonelier without parents, and so Rachel was happy to have some. Even if they weren't her own. Especially if they weren't her own. *** That evening, when visiting hours were almost over, Wyatt was standing outside of Kelly's room, waiting for Rachel to leave. As soon as she exited the room, shutting the door behind her, they began to walk side by side, but not speaking. Wyatt's hands were shoved in his windbreakers pockets, and from what Rachel could tell, he too had had a rather emotional afternoon. "Um..." Rachel started, "do you wanna get dinner?" "Nah, Scarlett's in a maternal mood, so I should go home to eat, what about you?" he asked. "Sun's super busy caring for her father, so I have a lot of time to myself right now," Rachel replied, scratching the back of her head, "...are you okay, dude? You look kind of like hell." "I could say the same for you," Wyatt remarked, smirking, "but yeah I'm alright. Just had a weird afternoon, remembering lots of stuff from the past, you know how it goes. Went to lunch with Celia. Talked about Calvin. That's actually what I'm here to discuss with you, is Calvin. You're closest to him. You need to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't crack further. Because Rachel...if he does...if he can't either manage himself or be managed...something will have to be done about him. We can't risk losing everything because he can't hold it together." Rachel nodded, stopping in the hall, Wyatt doing the same, facing one another. "...and what do we do if we can't?" Rachel asked quietly. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now..." Wyatt said, "why don't you come have dinner with my family?" Rachel smiled. She liked that idea. She might not have her own family, but she sure was accepted by everyone else's. The field was an absolute mess of a sight.
Men and women in various uniforms - firefighters, cops, medical workers - surveying the damage. Gathering bodies and putting them into body bags, then putting them into one of the numerous ambulances that were stationed there, ready to help any survivors they found, but...as of yet...they hadn't found a single one. A cough. Sheer back breaking pain. Eyes full of dust and smoke. What was even happening? What was the last thing they remembered? The plane. The plane going down, screaming, alarms. Suddenly they felt someone kneel beside them and as they rolled their half closed eyes to look up at the woman in the firefighter suit beside them, she looked ecstatic. She reached out and took their hand. "Can you hear me?" she asked, and they nodded; she grinned even more, "okay, listen to me, you need to stay still, you've likely broken something, or everything, I don't know, I'm not a doctor. Either way, I'm going to get some help for you, we're gonna get you to a hospital, okay?" They nodded again. The woman smiled sweetly, patted their hand and turned around, yelling over her shoulder. "I need some help over here! I've got a survivor!" she shouted, "I need medical staff now!" she then turned back to them and asked, "Sweetheart, what's your name? Can you remember your name?" "My name is Kelly," she whispered, "I'm Kelly." "Is there someone we should call for you Kelly?" the firefighter asked, and Kelly nodded, coughing. "Wyatt Bloom," she managed to say. *** Wyatt was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his upstairs bathroom when he heard the door creak open, and looked up to see Rachel slowly slink into the room. He sighed and slid back into the tub actual, his legs hanging over the lip. Rachel carefully climbed in and positioned herself in the same manner, but neither one spoke. Wyatt chewed on his lip as he listened to Rachel pop the can of soda she'd brought in with her and start to drink it. "She sounded so scared," he whispered, "she sounded...terrified." "Well, I don't blame her," Rachel said, "I mean, she was on a plane going down. God knows nobody except perhaps the terminally suicidal are excited at that prospect." "Fuck...this isn't Calvin's fault. It's mine. That's the worst part. I tried so hard to blame him, but-" "Don't even," Rachel said, putting her drink down and grabbing Wyatt's hands, "don't you ever give him that freedom from the consequences of his actions, dude. He did this all on his own. He decided the Evergreens were a problem, he decided his teacher needed to go, and that's all there is to it." "They're gonna trace it all back to him," Wyatt said, "you kill one man, okay fine, you might get away with that, but you down an entire airplane? There's no excuse for that. And I guarantee you he didn't know how to build a different kind of bomb. I guarantee that he made the exact same kind, and once that gets out, they'll trace it right back to the bomb that killed Grudin." "Then let him take the fall," Rachel whispered, and this surprised Wyatt, who, up to this point, had been under the impression that Rachel was far more protective of people than he was; she shook her head and wiped her eyes, "she was my best friend, even after we fell out I still cared about her, and...and reconnecting with her was wonderful. And he took that away from me. So fuck Calvin. Let him go down in flames. If they need a scapegoat, let them scape him." Wyatt nodded slowly as Rachel handed him her soda and he smiled, taking a long drink before Celia entered as well. "Uh..." she said, "there's a hospital on the phone for you, Wyatt." Wyatt and Rachel exchanged a look, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. "...it's Kelly," Celia said, "...she's alive." *** When Angie Dickenson had been a little girl, she went to church every single Sunday, but this wasn't the typical church. Her parents were part of a group that didn't exactly worship the usual god, but instead a man who promised them eternal salvation. A man who went by the name Art Johnson. So every Sunday, they would get dressed up and they would drive down to the church he owned, and they would listen to him preach. And despite the fact that they were no longer associated with what was essentially a cult, Angie couldn't help but feel the need, the desire, to worship someone. She thought she found that someone in Oliver Brighton, but now...now she found that she far preferred to worship Wyatt Bloom. She was sitting on her bed, cross legged and scrolling on her laptop while wearing track shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She hadn't showered since the news of the crash broke. It'd been a whole day, and she was still completely obsessed with looking up information of Wyatt - not hard to obtain when one was an active member of their local community, business owner and former star of the high school baseball team - and printing it all out, creating a bible of sorts. The door to her bedroom opened, and her mother popped in. Angie looked up from her screen, black licorice hanging from her lips. "We're going to have dinner soon," her mother said, "Are you hungry?" Angie nodded, not speaking. "Did you take your medication?" her mother asked, and Angie nodded; her mother smiled, "okay, good, dinner will be ready in about ten. Wash up before you come down." But Angie hadn't taken it. She hadn't taken it since leaving the Evergreens, tired of being under the control of chemicals and instead opting to be under the control of another outside source. A man she deemed to be worthy of worship. A man who had somehow foreseen the plane crash and warned her not to join them on it. Wyatt didn't know it of course, but his one act of decency would only become an enormous problem soon on down the road. *** Calvin had left Wyatt's after their scuffle, and was now hiding in his shed. He was sitting in total silence, no music, no television, nothing but the sound of air itself surrounding him. He looked to the lockbox sitting on a nearby upper shelf, and he slid off the stool and walked towards it. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around the edges, pulling it down from its not so hiding spot, and placed it on the workshop table, pulled the key from a drawer of a nearby table and unlocked the box, pulling out a small, black revolver. When he'd first thought about killing Grudin, he'd thought about shooting him, and purchased this pistol, but in the end he figured that was far too easy, and Grudin deserved worse. So he'd kept the gun, but never had a purpose for it, until now. Calvin reached into the box and gripped the pistol by the handle, lifting it and admiring it. Calvin seated himself back on the stool and looked at the pistol gleaming under the sheds soft flourescent lights. His breathing got heavier, as he thought about his wife...his daughter....Kelly. He couldn't stand all this grief, especially the grief he himself had played a part in. Calvin lifted the gun to the side of his head and placed his finger on the trigger. He shut his eyes, feeling tears roll down his face, and exhaled. All it would take was one simple gesture. A singular motion and it'd all be over. He'd be with his wife, his daughter, he'd exit this entire mess known as existence. He bit his lip and shook his head slowly. Everyone would be grateful. This was what Wyatt wanted anyway, he knew it. Suddenly his phone rang, and his eyes opened. He reached for the phone on the table and picked up. "Hello?" he asked. "Calvin, it's Rachel," Rachel said, "...we're at the hospital. Don't know if you should come, but I figured someone should at least tell you that Kelly is alive." Calvin felt the air punched from him. Had he really heard what he'd thought he'd heard? Kelly had lived? Impossible. How could that even happen? Calvin set the gun down on the table, thanked Rachel for the information and then hung up the phone, placing it beside the gun before exhaling deeply a few times. Maybe...just maybe...it wasn't time to leave just yet. *** Wyatt, Celia and Rachel were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, none of them seemingly able to process the fact that Kelly had, somehow against all odds, survived a plane crash caused by a bomb. After a bit of pacing, Rachel put her hands on her hips and looked at Celia and Wyatt sitting on the chairs near the large window. "I'm gonna go get some food, does anyone want anything?" she asked. "Cafeteria food or something edible?" Wyatt asked. "Is now really the time you want to get semantic about quality?" Rachel asked, and Wyatt shrugged; she smirked and continued, "I was gonna go to the deli down the street. I'll bring back whatever, just...tell me what you guys want." "I want a sandwich, something...italian, with cheese and salami and...whatever," Wyatt said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, sliding a credit card from it and handing it to Rachel, adding, "use my credit card, don't spend your own money, I got this. I got everything okay? And bring back coffee. Lots of coffee. Hard coffee." "Will do," Rachel said, before turning and exiting, leaving them alone. Wyatt leaned back in the chair and exhaled, looking up at the ceiling as Celia crossed her legs and shook her head. "You know," Celia said, "if you'd told me almost 6 months ago when we met at the reunion that we'd be sitting here, waiting to know the condition of someone we didn't even know then, I wouldn't have believed it. Everything since then has felt so unreal. It's almost been half a year, and...and I just...none of it feels real, Wyatt. Does it feel real to you?" A long pause, as Wyatt thought, licking his lips. "...for as long as I can remember, being out of high school hasn't felt real. Graduation just felt like a celebration, but a momentary one, you know? Like a birthday or a holiday or something. Not something that would signify the eternal shift into another moment of life altogether. You go to school for 18 years, and that's not counting college which can add on significantly to that timespan, and then suddenly...you just aren't doing that anymore. I worry about Mona. About whether she'll manage to make the adjustment to adulthood or not, because sure, I managed it, but I don't enjoy it. I wish it hadn't happened. Going to that reunion...it was...it was like going back in time, and it was the first time in years I'd felt like I was actually alive again." Celia nodded solemnly, listening. She could understand this line of thinking, honestly. While she'd managed to make the transition easier than others, she still yearned for the time of her youth. "Wyatt," Celia said, putting a hand on his knee, "you know this isn't your fault, right? You didn't cause this. Calvin did this all on his own. Grudin? Yeah, you might be able to be held at least semi accountable for that, but this? This was all on him. He's dangerous, and...and we need to come up with a plan for the inevitable, because if he's capable of this, I fear he might be capable of anything." Wyatt nodded in agreement. Celia had brought this up before, and Wyatt wasn't one to argue, especially at this point. Calvin had proven himself entirely unhinged, and willing to do awful things because to him the ends justify the means. Rachel returned a bit after this with food and coffee for everyone, and they waited, chatting, Rachel sharing a lot of stories about her and Kelly in school together to lighten the mood. After a bit, Celia left to go home for her son, Rachel dipped in order to get home to Sun Rai, and that left Wyatt all alone. When Wyatt was finally woken up, being shaken gently on the shoulder by a nurse, his blurry eyes immediately glanced at the watch on his wrist. 4am. He groaned and sat up, wiping the sleep from his face. "Your friend is awake, and wants to see you," the nurse said, smiling at him, "if you'll follow me." Wyatt immediately jumped up, best he could, and followed the nurse down a long hall, into an elevator and up three floors. Once there, she led him to a room, opened the door and let him enter. Wyatt walked in cautiously, unsure of what he was about to walk into, but when he saw Kelly, in all her rather undamaged glory, lying in the hospital bed, he felt all the anxiety and fear from the last 48 hours leave his chest. He smiled and sat down in a green metal chair beside the bed as Kelly rolled her head to look at him. "You look alright," Wyatt said. "What did you expect me to look like?" Kelly asked, half laughing, half wheezing. "I don't know, deformed or something, you were in a plane crash for fucks sake," Wyatt replied, "who knows what kind of monstrous Mr. Potato Head deal they'd have to create to salvage your looks." Kelly laughed, which hurt her chest, but it felt good to laugh again. "Why me?" Wyatt asked. "Why you what?" "Why am I your emergency contact?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly sighed. "...it was Rachel," Kelly said, "but I changed it after we started being friends, because she and I were still on such shaky ground. I didn't want to list my parents, cause they'd just freak out about it. But you're reserved, you keep a cool head, you're a smart man, and you care. I guess cause I trust you. I also didn't know anyone else to add. I don't really have many friends outside of you guys." "That's hard to imagine, with how likeable and charismatic you are," Wyatt said, smirking, making her laugh again. Wyatt wouldn't admit it, but he was so beyond relieved. Since meeting Kelly, he'd really come to genuinely appreciate her friendship, her insight, her enthusiasm. She was infectious in all the best, most non lethal ways, and he would've hated to have lost that just when he was getting used to it. But of course he didn't tell her who put the bomb in her bag, or that Calvin was involved at all. He kept her shielded from all that, because the less she knew the better. He'd already gotten so many other women involved in such sketchy activity, he didn't want to bring Kelly down to that level too. He was tired of hurting women, even unintentionally. He wasn't his father. *** When Wyatt got home that morning, he found that Scarlett and the kids were still gone. He showered, he ate breakfast, then got dressed to go to work. As he exited the house, briefcase in hand, he had no idea that right across the street, parked on the opposite side, was Angie Dickenson. She jotted down something in her small, black notebook and then watched him pull out of his driveway and head down the road to work. Once his car was well out of sight, Angie climbed out from her own car and headed across the street to the driveway, staring up at his house. So this was where a man of his stature, his importance, lived. She pulled her phone from her pocket and took a few quick shots of it, smiling to herself the whole time. Some men or worship have churches. Wyatt had a two story suburban home. Kelly Schuester had only been on a plane a few times in her life, but the first time was certainly the most memorable. She was 11 years old, and she was standing in the airport near the window in the boarding area with Rachel by her side, both girls eating licorice out of one bag. It was summer vacation, and the girls were going with Kelly's parents to another state where they would be visiting a famous theme park. Both girls were extremely giddy, having never been out of state before, nor to a real theme park. They'd of course been to local carnivals and such, but nothing on this grand a scale.
"Dad?" Kelly asked as he looked up from his book and over at them; she continued, "do planes crash a lot?" "No, I think it's pretty rare," her father, Allen, replied, sliding his bookmark in between the pages and getting up, walking to the girls and putting his hands on Kelly's shoulders, continuing, "I mean, it happens, but your chances of being involved in a life threatening crash I think are rather slim. Either way, if it happens, just shut your eyes. That way you're giving in instead of accepting it against your will." "Jesus Allen, don't tell them that," Kelly's mother, Carol, said as she came back with a styrofoam cup of coffee, sipping gingerly from the lid as it was piping hot, adding, "that's way too grim for little girls." "We're not little, we're almost teenagers," Rachel said. Carol smiled and patted Rachel on the head, before taking Allen back to the chairs and sat back down, Allen going back to his book as Carol drank her coffee and relaxed. Their flight wouldn't board for another hour at least, so the girls had a while to be excited about their first plane ride. As they stood there, Rachel took Kelly by the hand and squeezed tightly, making Kelly laugh. "Don't worry, if one of us is ever in a plane crash, we'll be there for eachother," Rachel said, smiling, and Kelly nodded. And lo and behold, she would hold Rachel to that promise 20 years later. *** Wyatt was pacing in the hallway on the first floor of his house, his fingers digging through his hair, his lips quivering. Kelly. Kelly. Kelly was on the plane. Jesus hell what was he going to do. What could he do, realistically? It wasn't like you could get a bomb squad to a flying plane, after all. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and screamed as he turned to see Rachel standing there, who also screamed in response and jumped back a little. "Sorry!" she shouted, putting her hands up, "Sorry, but...are you-" "No I'm very much not okay. How are YOU so calm? She's your best friend!" Wyatt said, leaning against the wall and groaning, shutting his eyes, "...fuck, I'm getting a migraine." "You need to calm down," Rachel said, approaching and rubbing his back. "How am I supposed to calm down? He's fucked us, you do realize that, right? This moral crusade he's taken up has now fucked us royally. There's no coming back from this, Rachel. They're going to look into this. You blow up one guy and somehow get away with it that's luck. Shit happens. But you blow up a plane? There's no walking away from that. He's no better than Leonard or Oliver or anyone else who hurt others now. He's on the same level." "That's not fair, there's tiers to monstrous behavior," Rachel said, massaging Wyatt's shoulders, "but you're not wrong, he's screwed us pretty good..." Wyatt pushed her off him gently and turned around, resting against the wall as she did the same on the opposite wall, both of them looking at one another. Wyatt took a long deep breath and shook his head. "A few weeks ago," he said, "Celia asked me what do we do if he loses it. She said he'd already blown a single man up, so what happens when he does something worse. How do we deal with him. That we need some kind of contingency plan. I should've listened. I was stupid. I told her I didn't see it happening, and now here we are. She was right." "So...what's the plan?" Rachel asked, folding her arms. "...I don't know," Wyatt said, chewing his lip and looking at the floor, exhaling, "...but I think...there might come a time when he needs to not be here anymore." *** Kelly woke from the turbulence and looked around. She must've dozed off for a bit, because she forgot where she was for a moment. She pulled her headphones down and let them hang around her neck as she looked at Leonard, who appeared very nervous. She tapped him on the arm and he very anxious glanced towards her, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly. "What's going on?" she asked, still clearly woozy. "Something in the cargo exploded, they think it's a bomb," Leonard said, "...we might...we might be going down." Kelly felt the pit of her stomach drop further somehow, as she leaned back against her seat. How was this happening? Had her father been wrong? People don't normally die in plane crashes, they're rare, aren't they? A million thoughts raced through her mind, and then she felt herself feel queasy. Leonard noticed and quickly grabbed the barf bag from beneath her chair and handed it to her, which she graciously took and vomited into. How ironic, she thought as she spewed, a weather girl dying in the clouds. *** Wyatt and Rachel were now in the kitchen as Wyatt uncapped some beers. Rachel was sitting at the kitchen island, the TV in the living room still going loudly as Celia and Calvin were sitting there watching. Wyatt stood on the opposite side of the island as he slid Rachel's beer across the tabletop to her before lifting his own to his lips and taking a long swig. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sighed. "...this doesn't feel real," Wyatt mumbled. "Did it feel real before?" Rachel asked, and he looked at her, furrowing his brow as she sipped her beer then added, "you know, with Grudin? When you and Calvin were in the car, did that feel real?" "...I tried to stop it," Wyatt whispered, and Rachel's eyes widened. She sat up straighter. "What? You never said that," she said. "Yeah. Yeah, we...were in the car and...and Grudin came out and I just...I couldn't do it. We fought over the control, I tried to stop him, but I pressed it by accident and the rest, as they say, is history. But it makes me sick thinking about it. I blew a man up. My wife knows nothing. My daughter thinks I'm the best daddy in the world. I'm stuck between two entirely different worlds, and I don't know how to manage either one." "I know what you mean, I feel the same way. Everything I tell Sun is a lie, and I fear one day she'll learn that and she'll leave and...I can't...I can't lose her," Rachel said, on the verge of tears as Wyatt reached across the table and took her hand, holding it tightly. "Whatever happens, you and me will find a way out of this, alright? Fuck Calvin. He's on his own now. We can't defend him anymore. But you and Celia and I, we'll manage, and we'll get out of this just fine. I'll make sure of it. So long as we stick together. We need to be a unit from now on, okay? So long as we do that, we'll be a-okay." Rachel nodded, smiling, wiping her eyes with her other arm. "You know," Rachel said as Wyatt let go of her hand, "in high school, the few times we interacted, I always thought you were kind of a pompous ass." "And now?" Wyatt asked. "Well, you still are, but there are definitely multitudes," Rachel said, the both of them laughing and clinking their beers together gently. Anything to lighten the mood was worth it right now. Rachel excused herself and headed back to the living room to see the news, as Wyatt stayed behind and looked around his kitchen. What had he done? How had things spiraled this far out of control? He was a murderer, now an unwilling accomplice to a potential terrorist, and he put his family in direct jeopardy with the law. Celia was right. He needed a contingency plan. Calvin needed to be dealt with somehow. Only then... ...only then would they be safe. And then his cell, sitting on the countertop, rang. *** Leonard couldn't believe this was how it would all end. After all that'd happened, after Oliver's death and his feud with Calvin, after all the time and effort he'd put into helping build this smut empire, he was going to be taken out by a pure random chance situation? Seemed almost comical. Maybe this was what people meant, he thought, when they spoke of karma. Maybe it existed after all. Leonard had to write a note. Something for someone who would be there to collect his things, whatever were left anyway. He reached under his chair and pulled his bag out, opening the flap and digging around for a pen and a notepad. Meanwhile, Kelly Schuester had never used an airplane phone before, and she couldn't believe it was the last thing she'd do before dying. She dialed quickly, with reckless abandon, hoping that the numbers she put in would actually connect to the number she'd hoped to reach. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then, during the fourth ring, it finally picked up, and Kelly felt an immense sense of relief, despite facing her seemingly impending demise. "I didn't know who else to call," she managed to squeak out, tears welling in her eyes, "I didn't...this is the only number I could think of." "It's okay, you're okay," Wyatt responded. "Where are you?" "In the kitchen, the TV is super loud," Wyatt said, "everyone screaming over one another. Kelly, just breath, okay? Just breath and everything will be okay." "I'm on a crashing plane, how will everything be okay?" Kelly asked, fighting back tears, "Wyatt, just...tell Rachel she's my best friend no matter what, okay? And...and that...and tell my parents, you can find them in the phonebook, tell them that I love them so much, please, and-" "Kelly, you're not going to die, okay?!" Wyatt shouted, "You're gonna be just fine!" "I can see the ground," Kelly said, "I can-" The phone went dead. The line clicked endlessly. Wyatt stood in the kitchen, staring at his cell, before he turned and threw his phone across the room and watched it shatter on the wall just as Calvin entered the room and their eyes met. Wyatt approached him and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up a bit, his eyes burning with hatred. "What did you do?" Wyatt asked through gritted teeth. "I did what someone had to do," Calvin responded meekly, "what nobody else would." "You just murdered god knows how many innocent people!" Wyatt shouted. "How many of them were innocent, Wyatt?! Most of the people on the plane belonged to The Evergreens, those pseudo environmentalist lunatics launching a crusade in the name of a misguided savior! The only person really innocent was Kelly, and...and I'm sorry but...you made my sister go away, so maybe now we're even." Wyatt couldn't take it, he balled his hand into a fist and punched Calvin in the jaw, just as Rachel and Celia pulled the men apart. As Rachel dragged Wyatt away, he was still kicking wildly, his eyes burning at Calvin, who was now doubled over, massaging his jaw as Celia grabbed him an icepack from the nearby freezer. "I'm going to kill you!" Wyatt screamed, "I'm going to kill you, Calvin! You son of a bitch!" "Guys, now is NOT the time!" Celia shouted, "Everyone just chill out!" But there was no chilling. This was the end of whatever partnership Wyatt and Calvin had forged up until this point, and there was no going back anymore. All that was left, really, was to find a way to dissolve it. Calvin felt bad, but he also felt he'd done the right thing. He'd taken out not just a monster, but people who worshipped a monster. He'd saved however many other kids from being hurt, at least for the time being, and stopped those Evergreen idiots from spreading their beliefs surrounding their martyr Oliver Brighton. He felt bad about Kelly, and the other few innocents on the plane, sure...but he was certain he'd done the right thing. Wyatt, however, had never hated someone more than Calvin at this exact moment. Wyatt had dealt with his sister in school, but he'd only interacted with Calvin a number of times, and he's always found him weird but nice enough. But now? Now Wyatt saw Calvin for what he truly was. A dangerous man, willing to do dangerous things to take out who he considered more dangerous men, and Wyatt knew he had to do something to stop him, no matter the cost. If Calvin had put Kelly's life in peril, potentially killing her, who's to say he wouldn't do the same to Rachel next? No. Wyatt couldn't let anyone else fall prey to Calvin's intense misguided heroism, and he'd find a way to put a stop to him one way or another. *** Angie Dickinson felt like she'd witnessed a miracle. A sign. Something that had shown her the light. Sitting on the couch with her parents on either side of her, all of them glued to visually to the TV screen with the news of the plane crash flashing before them, she'd never felt such a sense of simultaneous relief and belief. She tapped her fingernails nervously on her glass and chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. After a moment she got up and headed into her bedroom upstairs. Once inside, she loaded up her desktop and looked up Wyatt's store, finding publicity photos of him. She printed out her favorite headshot and then, climbing onto her bedroom floor, glued it into her notebook, pulling the lid off a felt pen and writing beneath it: "Hero" Then she sat back upright against her bed and held the notebook up to her face, smiling. This man had saved her life, inadvertently so but regardless, and she intended to somehow pay him back. She didn't know how or when, but she'd find a way. The funny thing is, this was the last thing Wyatt needed. A fan club. *** Right before the plane crashed, as Leonard scrambled to find some notepad paper to write on, screaming all around him and smoke filling the cabin, he finally felt his fingers reach around a spiraled notebook and tugged it free from his satchel. As he clicked the pen so he could write, and opened the notebook, he was surprised when something slid out of it and landed in his lap. He dropped the notebook and the pen and picked up the small folded piece of paper, then unfolded it and read the words. Having had Calvin work for him for a bit, and having been his teacher, the handwriting was unmistakable and immediately identifiable. He must've slipped it in when he'd gone to the bathroom that night he came over, Leonard thought. His eyes scanned the paper again and again, unable to truly believe what it was he saw. Calvin had written one single thing. "You were a great teacher. And a terrible human being." Leonard shut his eyes and exhaled as the plane approached the ground. Leonard laughed to himself weakly, reaching up and stroking his mustache. "God damn son of a-" he mumbled. And then everything went black. |
About
A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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