The One With Pedge + J

hello, dear ❤️

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you 🧚🏼‍♀️

xoxo

ps. you’ve asked for something unconventional hope this is good enough to challenge you

This was so fun to incorporate in an ongoing series, and to do so in an unexpected way. Check out Pedge's Bookshop if you want the final result...

Pedge's Bookshop The Confession

Grab a Pastry! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "A Baker's Dozen" @avastrasposts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", sexy time snuggles, discussion of death/murder/suicide, nightmare, surgery recovery...This is the second to last installment of the series, which should place us at the ready for the LOU April release...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5 k

The long trek home had taken just under an hour, including pauses for water and grumbles as Ellie rambled continuously.

“Hey Joel…” Ellie’s voice distractedly interrupted from the sidelines, as Joel huffed and puffed at his very own doorstep. “What’s the fastest mode of transportation?”. Joel gripped the porch stairs doggedly, as perspiration dotted his forehead and your fingers dug into the side of his hip supportively.

“Shut the hell up….” Joel growled, his patience long since evaporated as he stubbornly made the slow journey from the infirmary to his community residence.

“Guess it’s not you…” Ellie muttered under her breath, before shouting quite loudly, “The bullet train!” she guffawed, as Joel took several halting steps up the porch before yanking the front door open huffily. His heavy laden feet nearly caught the lip of the doorframe as you both lurched into the living room, eventually depositing Joel on the tattered living room sofa, with as much gentility as an avalanche. You knew it was important for Joel to hold on to his stoic self-belief, but his current physical limitations had all but depleted whatever reserves Joel housed. He was completely exhausted, and you were keen to help him start the healing process as soon as possible.

“Looks like you finally made it home, old man!” Ellie’s voice was a bit strained as she attempted to ignore her own insecurities about Joel’s fragile state. You smirked, knowing that her prodding was probably the best medicine for his combative soul. Maybe when things quieted down, you could offer the rest and relaxation Joel so desperately needed in contrast. “You seem barrel-y able to contain your excitement…get it? Barrel?” Ellie plopped down beside Joel on the couch eliciting a wince from his heated and pained expression.

“Jesus, Ellie I’ll be lucky if my stitches don’t rip, will ya give me a minute?” he grumbled, looking down at his abdomen tenderly, hesitant to examine the wrappings beneath his perspiration soaked flannel. It wasn’t everyday that a commune resident was recovering from surgery, let alone a gunshot wound, but after a week in the infirmary, Joel was nearly crawling out of his skin. Determined to go it alone, he had stubbornly refused a cane or wheeled transport of any kind, but had quickly ascertained the difficulty of his aspirations. Even with the commune’s significant stock of penicillin, it was going to prove a difficult month. He might have already done some damage, and he wasn’t even in his own bed yet. Joel gritted his teeth even harder.

“Sorry” Ellie finally quieted with a defeated tone. You reached up tenderly to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow, as Joel closed his eyes tiredly, laying back slightly against the sofa. He was feeling every bit his 57 years, as a few stars dotted the periphery of his darkened vision. This might be something that tenacity alone couldn’t mend, and he would be grateful for all the help he could get, once he caught his breath. You watched Ellie’s countenance drop as the gravitas of the last week started to catch up to her. Joel remained unaware, so you offered a tight lipped encouragement from the other side of the couch. You would all get through this together. Some things just took time.

“I could go to the Tipsy Bison and get your favorite whiskey?” Ellie ventured, sitting up with the possibility of a task at hand. Joel smiled tiredly, his forehead already relaxing from the daunting escapades of the day.

“No way in hell they’ll give it to a kid…” his words slurred a bit as his body sank further into the couch.

“Wanna bet?” Ellie popped up jauntily from the couch, excited to put her pent up tension to beneficial use. “I’ll just tell ‘em we need it…medicinally…” as she headed out the door with confidence. You smirked with relief, glad to finally have Joel at home and resting for the entire month. The bullet hadn’t nicked any major arteries, and had avoided his organs, but the muscles were going to take at least a month to begin the mending process, and outside of antibiotics, there weren’t very many painkillers that the commune could offer. You were about to expand your expertise from teaching to nursing, and didn’t mind one bit. Joel’s breath steadied evenly in his chest as you delicately stroked his forehead and scalp soothingly. Content to stay there for the rest of the evening, you watched his face carefully for the next 15 minutes before his body jerked awake with newfound adrenaline. His eyes flashed with temporary disorientation before clasping your hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

“Had the worst nightmare…Somebody shot me, and Ellie wouldn’t shut up” he drawled, closing his eyes again and massaging your hand with affection. Leave it to Joel to be joking and taking care of other people, when he was the one in pain.

“Oh that would never happen…” you relaxed into the side of his body, tilting your head against his shoulder with ease. “Ellie is so soft spoken…” you teased, noticing the graying dusk of early evening begin to shadow against the living room window. “Think we can get up the stairs to bed, mister?” you questioned, giving a light kiss to the edge of his broad shoulder before catching his beleaguered and mischievous expression. 

“Thought you’d never ask, Teach.”

Certainly, this wasn’t the time to be indulging particularly fantasies in the bedroom, but you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the closeness this might provide for you and Joel. It took another 30 minutes to hesitantly ascend the stairs, but you finally deposited Joel in his bed and began removing his boots amidst his protestations. 

“Will ya quit babying me? I’m fine…” Joel complained, starting to unbutton his flannel and gaze curiously at the wrappings across his abdomen. Your eyes greedily took in the hair peppering his broad chest and belly button, up until the area shaved from surgery. You gulped hungrily, wrenching his boot off and depositing it at the foot of his bed.

“Are you going to be this ornery the entire month?” you accused, not altogether surprised. You had interacted with many a stubborn man, but Joel seemed to take the cake. The stauncher the patient the harder the fall, you surmised, batting Joel’s hand away and exploring the wrappings yourself. There was a bit of spotting from the arduous transport, and Joel was due for dinner and a round of penicillin. “How much are you going to argue if I suggest a sponge bath?”. Joel’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers, as he grew immediately self conscious of his body and glistening skin. His cheeks reddened slightly as he considered the possibility.

“I mean…I don’t…complain about everything…” his visage gained a boyish quality as he bit his lip and started fumbling with the nearby blankets. You smiled appreciatively. Score. Most men were big teddy bears, after they raged against the dying of the light. You peeled the wrappings back as Joel pouted bitterly.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you so you can take your medicine, and then we’ll make sure someone is set and cozy for bed” you offered, before Joel desperately grabbed at your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

“I….’preciate it” he managed to get out reservedly, as his eyes finally softened in the darkening room.

“My pleasure” you countered, leaning in for a tender kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen, and stopping at the door way. “DON’T…” Joel paused mid exploration as you leveled your eyes skeptically in his direction “…paw at those wrappings until I come back, understand?”

“Yes’m” he quipped, though you weren’t entirely sure if he were joking. With or without Joel’s help, you were going to relish your new role as private commune nurse.

The days passed slowly, but delightedly as you nursed Joel back to health. The surgery had preceded your normal Spring Break, but in an unexpected turn of events, the commune had allowed you and Ellie to assign reading and creative projects on a weekly basis. With your permission, Ellie had even assembled class for a few hours once a week to help the students’ progress. You grinned, imagining Ellie’s lack of diplomacy as she regaled you with her first foray into instruction, accidentally making one student cry over math permutations and counseling another on the finer points of dealing with bullying. Apparently her first admonition was to just ‘punch the sucker right in the nose’, but having thought better of the ramifications for an eight year old, eventually encouraged them with subtler points from “Crime and Punishment”. You chuckled sweetly, rolling your eyes as Ellie sat on the edge of Joel’s bed, recounting the school day's events. 

“That’s my girl…” Joel nodded curtly, looking helplessly around the room and picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” once again. Within the week, he had caught up to Ellie’s literary progress and both of them were nearing the completion. Mostly absorbed with Joel’s recovery and the ongoing school year, you hadn’t yet broached the tender topic of Elk Creek or any of the unresolved questions that Ellie’s previous confession had elicited. 

She was immune. But how far did that immunity extend? How long would it last? And most importantly, was there any way her immunity could be duplicated? You didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and alongside the immediate concern of Joel’s well-being and emotional wellness, you couldn’t perseverate too long. But if the three of you wanted a future together, there were some tough conversations ahead. Maybe you could help in more ways than just soup and sponge baths.

“How’s The Bookshop holdin’ up?” Joel asked for the umpteenth time, shifting awkwardly in the bed and grumbling at his limitations. He hated feeling helpless, and it was taking every iota of his strength to remain sedentary in the recovery process.

“Pretty good. Think we’re about ready for openin’ whenever you are” Ellie guessed, drawing the blanket between her fingers appraisingly. “Rascal might even host if you’re not feelin’ up to it” she joked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back smugly. 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore that happens” Joel’s drawl intensified as he sat up taller, attempting to hide the momentary discomfort of shifting positions. Recovery was hard enough, but with no pain killers, you didn’t envy Joel’s challenging position. You were glad to help in any way that you could, watching Ellie’s face falter with hesitation.

“Shit, I forgot to feed him after class today” she observed, shrugging guiltily before standing up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” she playfully punched Joel’s outstretched foot before squeezing your shoulder warmly and heading downstairs.

“Maybe sweep the floor while you’re there!” Joel called after, before grinning sheepishly in your direction. “Builds character…” he joked, settling further back in the bed, and patting the space beside him. “Back to our reading nook?” he tantalized, grabbing the pair of glasses he used for reading and lovingly fingering the pages of “Crime and Punishment”. You all but squealed with delight, being careful not to jostle the bed too wholeheartedly and delicately placed yourself in the crook of his embrace, resting your head softly on his shoulder. Draping your leg tentatively over his you sweetly placed a hand near his abdomen, willing the recent wound to continue mending. This wasn’t the moment for sexual intimacy, but sharing this last week with Joel had offered a tenderness your past relationships never could. You sighed contentedly as Joel returned to his reading selection.

“Don’t give Snake Eyes that goofy accent again” you chided, giggling quietly to yourself as Joel looked down his spectacles at you with skepticism. 

“Don’t like my Russian accent darlin’?” he teased, rocking you slightly and grunting with the effort. Joel cleared his throat and began again as you relaxed into him. 

“He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses. It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross, he laughed. As though I had not suffered much till now! Well, now I am going to prison and you'll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don't. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all! But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. Why is she grieving too? he thought to himself. What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me? I am a murderer. He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot. Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart…”.

Joel sighed heavily, looking down at your resting face, expecting you to perhaps be asleep, but a single tear was cascading down your cheek as he reached down to wipe it away. “My reading’ that bad darlin’?” he coo’ed, wondering at your emotion. Your voice came out more raspy than you intended, but the moment was upon you. “Joel…Can you tell me what happened on the way back to Elk Creek? How did…?” your voice stalled with hesitation, finally motivated by desperation and curiosity. “How did Levi die?”.

Joel swallowed dryly, taking off his glasses and setting the book down. “You sure you want to know?” he began, gripping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You nodded solemnly, your glassy eyes radiating in the late afternoon sunlight. Joel nodded once and continued. “It was the damndest thing. The whole trip he was like a mockingbird in a lonely meadow. Jabbering on and on, and asking questions about us. Not hardly makin’ any sense. Didn’t think I could feel sorry for that man, but he seemed right emptied out. Like he couldn’t think of anything worth living for” Joel paused, shaking his head with confusion. “Had to bite my tongue multiple times to keep from suggesting a quick exit, until….” Joel's breath hitched violently in his chest as he squirmed slightly with the memory of it.

“Until what?” you whispered, terrified to discover the revealing truth of that fateful day.

“Never thought I’d see a man more lonely than me” Joel observed, hugging you all the tighter against his side as you snuggled in for warmth. “Made me realize what my life could look like without you and Ellie at my side. We had our backs up against a wall, and Levi’s men were scattering left and right. And I saw it. Whatever flicker of rage or passion or fight he had left, just evaporated right in front of me. He ran headlong into the swarm of infected and that was the end of that”. The proceeding silence hung in the air morosely as you considered Joel’s words carefully. Death by clicker. What a way to go. Seemed counterintuitive to think of Levi as any kind of Savior. But maybe realizing that himself, Levi executed the only action that made any sense.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” Joel muttered under his breath, almost to himself as you shivered coldly. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that very moment and it wasn’t a few minutes later you were drifting into a heavy sleep, weighed down by the confusion and exhaustion of the last several weeks, held firmly against Joel’s side protectively.

You couldn’t reach him. Struggling through a maelstrom of acidic fog you coughed and sputtered in the fluorescent glow. Where the hell were you? The entire bog seemed to reek of a sulphuric bitterness, you couldn’t escape. The books were crumbling, your willpower was waning. Weighted down by a nearly paralytic heaviness, you reached forward as a hand grasped yours firmly. Drawing it towards you, you saw the deteriorating and skeletal face of Levi, his bony fingers, interwoven with yours, pulling you down and down and down. The sticky atmosphere was muffling your cries as you sank further and further into the quicksand of ever increasing doubts…

Joel. Joel. Joel….

You jerked awake, finding yourself in the twilight of dusk, particles of dust floating through the air in hazy delicacy. Thank God. Joel. You turned to look at him in solace, but were crestfallen to see his own tumultuous sleeping expression, perspiring under the heated upstairs oppression. In sleep, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides as you swallowed dryly. “Joel?” you rasped ineffectively, his lips pursing in unknown words and nightmarish phrases. You tenderly reached up to touch his shoulder, remember your first encounter in the Bookshop. You didn’t want him to needlessly suffer, but PTSD was an exacting beast. You tried to gently rouse him from his torment, wondering where Ellie was and if you should call the commune doctor, when Joel’s eyes flew open wildly in horror. He immediately grasped his chest with terror, his breath hitching violently in his chest as you timidly placed your hand over his.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” you breathed steadily and soothingly as his eyes shakily found yours in the darkening upstairs bedroom. “You’re safe. With me. We are safe. Together”. You felt the strength of his heart beating powerfully against his ribcage as his mouth struggled to draw in one shaky breath after another. “Easy, easy…” you felt like you were coaxing a stallion or nursing a wounded animal. There were so many nightmares to choose from, how could you help one another escape?

“Ellie told you” Joel’s voice creaked out of him, as though on a wiry hinge, textured with gravel and broken glass.

“Told me what, honey?”

“Told you ‘bout the Fireflies…” Joel closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against a barrage of memories and unbidden images.

“She finally told us, in the hospital…” you began, before Joel sat up abruptly.

“The hospital…” he gasped, moving stiffly, attempting to get out of the bed.

“You’re not in the hospital anymore…you’re here with me…” you grasped him fervently around the chest, hesitant to rip any more stitches.

“You don’t….understand…”. He seemed almost delirious as you looked helplessly around the room for support.

“Will you lay still for me? Please? Let me get you a cold washcloth…” you negotiated, feeling his heartbeat ticking heavily and strongly against your forearm.

“They’re dead. All of ‘em.” his voice rumbled against your arm forebodingly as you paused in your struggle with him.

“Who, Joel? The infected? The raiders?” Joel continued to struggle against you, as you carefully straddled his hips with as much force as possible. “Honey, you’re gonna rip your sutures if you keep wrestling like that, can you please breathe for me?” you were reaching a point of desperation, amazed at Joel’s strength, even in repose, but determined to bring him back into the land of the living.

“I’m a murderer” he spat, writhing beneath you forcefully as you pushed down on his shoulders as hard as you could. You tried to ignore his words, recognizing his feverish incapacity, but startling nonetheless. The apocalypse had included so much death, what could he possibly be referring to? “In the hospital…I saved HER. I killed them all…”. He wasn’t making any sense; you had to get his fever to break.

“Joel, lie still!” your voice echo’d through the house authoritatively. You absentmindedly wondered if Ellie were within earshot as Joel immediately stilled in awareness of the edge in your voice. His pupils narrowed to a focused pinpoint as he grasped your face emphatically with both hands.

“The Fireflies” he wheezed, perspiration now dripping down the sides of his temples profusely. “They found out about Ellie’s immunity…and they tried….to kill her…in the hospital…” his words were a bit jumbled and halting, but the force of his desperation seemed to cut through the oppressive heat like a knife. This wasn’t an ongoing fever dream. Something about this was real. You gulped back tears of acknowledgement. “So I saved her….” his eyelids started to grow heavy with effort as his arms relaxed by his side. “I saved her…and killed me…”. His eyes shut with exhaustion, as his body finally stilled amidst the disheveled sheets, your body still atop him. His breathing eventually resumed an even pace, though his face seemed cemented in a pained expression of distress. You sighed with relief, checking his bandages, and wiping his forehead lightly with the sleeve of your shirt. But as you laid down next to him, the impact of his words hit you like a ton of bricks.

A murderer.

You could dismiss it, like his drunken admission. Another feverish nightmare, punctuated by an ill-advised confession. But. There was something about his words that seemingly rang true. And if it WERE true, who would know? And to what lengths would you go to protect the ones you loved? You gazed longingly at his profile, listening for sounds of Ellie in the empty house, but none materialized. 

It was just you, Joel…and the deadening silence of his confession.

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Crime and Punishment The Lecture

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Bookends" by @djarinmuse, it will absolutely hit the spot...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussion of murder/violence, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", spirituality/religion/existentialism

Series Masterlist

Words: 4k

It had been weeks since you had seen Joel, or risked an inopportune meeting in The Bookshop. After your enigmatic encounter over Winter Break, you had oscillated somewhere between embarrassment, irritation, desire and confusion as to whether your presence would be wanted. What had started as a literary deconstruction had quickly turned into a personal one, and you couldn’t be sure how welcome that journey would be. Granted, there was a lot of preparation to restart the school term after the holidays, but truthfully, it was just easier to ignore everything your conversation had unearthed. That is, until class resumed.

Avoiding Joel had been easy; there were always patrols and commune business to aide your self-imposed isolation. You had to admit The Bookshop would have been a valuable resource for your curriculum prep, but you had done without and could do so again. If you were being truly honest with yourself, it wasn’t the books you were really missing. But the renewal of the school term loomed large on the horizon, and here you stood at the doorstep. A cornucopia of ridiculous age gaps-tremendous potential—and Ellie.

Ellie was one of your brightest and most ambitious students to date, but after the mysterious dinner, culminating in unspoken desires and tenuous subtext, you were more concerned than ever. Not only did you want to help Ellie explore her intellect and agency, she wasn’t one to shy away from difficult conversations. You found yourself at a strange crossroads of desperately wanting to offer guidance, but shrinking inward at the possibility of transparency and vulnerability. Some teacher. And yet, here you all were, poised to begin the exciting class term, bright, smiling faces beaming up at you—-and Ellie.

She sat transfixed by the melting, winter’s landscape, watching a solitary red cardinal, flitting colorfully from tree branch to tree branch as you waxed philosophically about the semester’s objectives. Perhaps the door had already been closed, and your friendship was an opportunity that had died an early death. You attempted to plow forward, unfazed, but concerned nonetheless. It was a strange dichotomy to recognize your own inability to survive alone, but still be so paralyzed by the fear of letting anyone in. At least, as a teacher, maybe you could instruct the next generation how to avoid that alienation, short of exampling it yourself. 

The day passed relatively quickly, as, much like the cardinal, you flitted from desk to desk, attempting to help each student with their diverse and varied projects revolving around history, agriculture, science, medicine, home arts and more. You had quite nearly forgotten the conundrum as students bolted out the door in the late afternoon light, hunched over your desk, perusing assignments and projects, until a familiar voice juxtaposed itself.

“Hey teach, got a second?” Ellie’s direct lilt tickled your ears curiously, as your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“Oh! Ellie, I’m so glad you stayed behind” you fibbed ever so slightly, simultaneously intrigued, and terrified at the line of potential conversation. Ellie seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief, gazing behind her conspiratorially, assured she was out of earshot.

“Did uh…did something happen between my…between you and Joel…at dinner, or something?” Ellie whispered in hushed tones, a tinge of concern passing over her countenance at the possible overstep.

“No! I mean…maybe. I…” you sighed heavily, swallowing hard. What DID happen? It was so bizarre to experience a moment of deep meaning, without any true understanding of what the significance was. “Why, what did he say?” you shifted gears, suddenly anxious as to her approaching answer.

“Nothing!” Ellie immediately confessed. “I mean, you know Joel. Just grumbling and silence mostly. He keeps asking about you, and how you’re doing, and moping around the house…even more than usual” Ellie smiled dolefully, picking at the edge of your school desk. “He’s been telling me more about the book…” she quipped, slinging her pack over her shoulder heftily, “…and mentioning that I should ask you about it…”.

“Oh, is that so?” you brightened slightly at the admonition that Joel seemed as unnerved as you, but as yet undeterred. Maybe you hadn’t ruined the entire prospect.

“He says you have a special understandin’…about a woman’s ways. Or…good at holdin’ secrets…I didn’t really ask what he meant…” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders good-naturedly, noticing the reddish tint at the top of your ears.

“Yeah, there are some secrets that should probably stay hidden” Joel’s words echoed in your mind acerbically, as you wondered if the sentiment were true.

“I guess…” Ellie picked at her nails awkwardly, looking around the room for hidden solace.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?” you ventured, truly desirous to help Ellie with whatever challenge she might be encountering. 

“Oh! I just remembered who Mr. Marmelade reminded me of!” she chirped, as her demeanor immediately darkened at the confession. Perhaps Ellie was finding herself as conflicted as you were regarding transparency and community.

“I’d love to hear about it, if you want to tell me” you tentatively opened the door of conversation relishing the avenue of opportunity. Maybe you wouldn’t be the one to teach Ellie the art of authenticity, perhaps it was the other way around. A moment of silence stretched before you as Ellie seemed slightly at war with herself, weighing her options. She finally pulled one of the wooden stools forward, hunching over your school desk secretively.

“Alright…when Joel and I were traveling here, we met lots of people on the road to Jackson” she began, a weight noticeably lifting from her shoulders. “I’d never really been much out of the Boston QZ, and everything was…one big adventure!” her eyes lit up momentarily with the remembrance. You smiled in solidarity, reflecting on some of your own adventures and discoveries. There was a lot of life to be lived, even in this apocalyptic atmosphere. You nodded encouragingly. “But…not all of it was good…” she paused, her face shifting with discomfort. “Plenty of challenges, and some friends…but most of them didn’t make it out alive. Not like us.” Ellie stated bluntly, her chest collapsing slightly with the heaviness of the reality. You turned your eyes downward, listening carefully and nodding your head. Most of these kids had seen more tragedy than any young life deserved, and you wished you could ease their suffering, ANY suffering around you.

“There was this one town…” she began, her gaze blurring slightly with the memory “…and we were in the Kansas City QZ. There was a heap of trouble there, and people shooting. And an army, like a bona fide ARMY of infected. But we met these two guys…” Ellie stopped, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. “Uh, we met these two guys Henry, and his younger brother Sam…and they were real great” she finished, her eyes glossing over with an emotive sheen. You pursed you lips thoughtfully, curious as to Ellie’s question, and hesitant to hear the story’s conclusion. Holding the silence tenderly, you cautiously waited, joining Ellie in the palpable feeling of loss.

“And…I couldn’t…” her eyes filled with tears, defiantly willing her emotion to stay hidden “I couldn’t help them” she finally admitted, wiping her tears away quickly as the they cascaded down her cheeks unbidden. “I couldn’t save them” she whimpered slightly before stilling completely in silence. You smiled tenderly in the stillness, nodding again in affirmation. You wondered in that moment if you didn’t have the same feeling of helplessness right now. Each human’s life was so uniquely distinctive. But how can any of us truly help one another, if not by simply living and dying in existence, together? You paused, weighing your words carefully as you proceeded forward.

“That’s a lot like the Marmeladov Family, don’t you think?” you ventured quietly, watching Ellie’s eyes round out plaintively in the silence. She dragged her hand sniffily under her nose, closely returning your gaze. “Rascal wants to help them, but things go from bad to worse until…”.

“They don’t make it, do they?” she rasped, her eyes a darkened hue of anguish.

You tilted your head to the side empathetically. “Some of them do, and some of them don’t. We just can’t save everyone, all the time…”. Ellie breathed heavily, the weight of truth settling around her like a comfort-less blanket. “But that’s part of what it means to be truly human. Acknowledging one another, and our own inability. Feeling helpless, and yet still trying.”

“Do you ever feel that way? Helpless?” Ellie’s voice had nearly disappeared, the boisterous laughter of children echoing from the nearby stoop in contrast.

“Oh my God, when do I not?” you nearly laughed with incredulity. “All of us feel the weight of inability, every single day. You. Me. Joel…”.

Ellie pulled back skeptically, “Joel isn’t helpless! He might be annoying, but he does all kinds of stuff. Taught me to shoot. Knows how to hunt. You think Joel is helpless?”.

“I think…Joel is human, honey” you smiled, his face immediately reflected in your mind’s eye, full of sensitivity, wonder and depth. “I think we’re all HUMAN. Dostoyevsky hit the nail on the head, whether you’re living in the 1800’s or at the tail end of the world…” you surmised, not censoring yourself as one might, in the honesty of the sentiment. “And the unique privilege for us to be alone, together. To try against all odds, to ease one another’s suffering, whether we achieve it or not, is the Divine gifting of every individual. Every human heart”.

Ellie smiled ruefully, sitting a bit taller, and slinging her bag over her shoulder more definitively. “Okay, teach. Thanks for the talk” and with that, she was quickly exiting the room, purposefully headed to…wherever she was headed next. “Oh! And will you visit Joel sometime soon?” her voice surprisingly caught you from the doorway. “If Rascal the Cat is his only companion, I’m gonna have to sit through more of his mumbles and grumbles about you for the rest of my life, and it’s drivin’ me NUTS. Put him out of his misery already?” she smirked, hefting her book bag one last time and leaving you with your own muddled but increasingly optimistic outlook.

Standing outside of The Bookshop, you weren’t rightly sure how you had arrived at Joel’s doorstep once again. Almost hoping he were unavailable you noticed Rascal the Cat currently eyeing you smugly, seated indoors on the cozy quilt. Surveying The Bookshop from the foyer window you saw the familiar crackling fire, pot of coffee and burgeoning selection of books you and Joel had begun to categorize by Dewey Decimal system. The hand-made mahogany chair sat otherwise in solitude, before you hesitantly entered The Bookshop to the characteristic bell.

Your eyes widened at the growing selection of literature Joel had procured. This was turning out to be your own personal Library of Alexandria, assuming that Joel didn’t completely bar you from entry. Ironically enough, his deep throated voice boomed from the back room, “We’re closed!” his broad frame entering the main room confidently before he halted in his steps.

“It’s you” he whispered, his entire countenance momentarily dissolving in a softened visage before stoically snapping back to attention. “You’re okay, teach” he grumbled, shewing the cat out of your chair and headed towards the wood burning stove. “Coffee?” he rhetorically asked, before grabbing your favorite mug and pouring you a cup. You buttoned your lips tightly, anxiety creeping into every fiber of your being. Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up…You sat quietly in the mahogany chair, gathering the quilt around you protectively. Maybe if you just didn’t speak, you could rely upon yourself to be the person the Miller Family deserved.

“Awful quiet over there, teach. We didn’t scare you away, did we?” Joel’s voice melodically intoned, but it was betrayed by an undercurrent of real concern. He handed you the mug of joe as you noticed a slight tremor in his fingertips, before he placed them confidently astride his hips. “Ellie said you had a real nice talk” he shifted awkwardly from side to side, a vision of forced neutrality.

“We did. I was so glad she decided to confide in me. Thanks for the support…” you encouraged, taking a timid sip of the potent beverage. Joel’s face lit up in recognition temporarily, hopeful at your re-established rapport. “S’no trouble. It was a hard journey here and…well, I’m not much for talkin’. At least not always sayin’ what I mean…” he trailed off, rubbing humbly at the back of his neck. “Sorry I ruined…the dinner” he added, almost as an after-thought. 

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “You didn’t ruin anything. I was just surprised” you confessed. “Maybe too much bramble berry wine. I’ll know better for next time!”

“Next time?” Joel immediately pounced on the inflection, his eyebrows shooting up in delighted anticipation. You stalled, momentarily unsure of yourself.

“Well, we’re only halfway through the book! You didn’t think you were gonna get off that easily, did you?” you teased, hungrily taking in Joel’s playful expression. He breathed a sigh of relief as Rascal the Cat intertwined itself amidst his ankles.

“Sure thing” he sighed. “Still not the best student though, teach…I’ve been a little…distracted” he gazed down at the orange tabby nuzzled against his calf. 

“Worried about Ellie?” you ventured, Joel’s acknowledgement immediately catching yours, as he nodded curtly. “Well, like you said, she’s a good kid. This is what growing up is all about. Questions, doubts. Discovering what it means to be human. Spirituality…”.

Joel shook his head emphatically, “We’re not religious, teach. If you knew the people we met on the road here…”. 

You cut him off gently, “I’m not talking about religion, I’m talking about the human spirit. That’s what Dostoyevsky is talking about; the way we live, the way we die, and all that’s in between. Ellie’s just coming to terms with what it means to just…be”. Joel looked at you pointedly, his gaze once again taking you apart, piece by piece. You felt oddly naked, sitting before him, completely swathed in the comfortable quilt.

“I just want her to be happy” Joel finally whispered, wistfully searching through the window’s haze.

“Me too” you smiled, joining the intentionality of his search. “We just have to remember that there’s a lot more to life than just…happiness”. You shared a long stare with Joel in the quiet of The Bookshop, punctuated by purrs from Rascal the Cat, as unexpected snow began to drift in the outside flurry.

“Who said, that, Dostoyevsky?” Joel smirked, stepping slowly forward and drawing the quilt up around you sweetly.

“Me” you grinned dolefully, pouting with chagrin.

“Birds of a feather” he smiled, drawing your chin between two calloused fingers, with a small but tender pinch.

The winter days continued to pass quickly, though the snowfall didn’t seem to ease up. You continued to meet Joel at The Bookshop, organizing the sections of languages and science. The technology section seemed particularly bare, and currently obsolete, but perhaps someday mankind would be able to have a resurgence of technological growth, and you wanted to ready the next generation as much as you could. Sometimes you stopped by The Bookshop to find it cold and empty, with news of an ongoing patrol reaching your ears, and stoking anxiety in the cavernous depths of your heart. Was Joel okay? Should you check on Ellie? How long would he be gone? But those moments seemed to be few and far between, and you shoved them out of your mindset as much as was possible. Unwilling to upset the tenuous balance of your ongoing friendship, you gave both of them as much distance as the three of you seemed to thrive on. It wasn’t until several weeks later that Ellie approached you again, as the classroom dissipated.

“Got a minute, teach?” she hesitantly asked, drawing your attention to her fidgeting fingers and anxious demeanor.

“Of course, Ellie, you know I’ve always got time for you. How are you and Joel doing?”

“Don’t know. Joel is still out on patrol. Has been, all week…” she mumbled, as you bit your lower lip. You knew about Monday’s patrol, you just hadn’t realized its duration. “Got the whole Miller Mansion to myself…” she almost whimpered, adopting an immediately confident and armored appearance.

“Oh, honey, you can always come to my place if you want. Or I can come to you? Joel wouldn’t want you to be all alone…” you concernedly offered.

“It’s okay. I’m not scared” Ellie unconvincingly added, fidgeting with her pack once again. “Just…real quiet…at night. Rascal the Cat doesn’t say much” she joked. “In that way…just like Joel”.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got someone” you commiserated, starting to pack up your papers for the evening’s work, secretly worried about the ongoing patrol, but unwilling to telegraph it, for Ellie’s sake. “Did you need help with your homework?”

“No, I just…started reading more of “Crime and Punishment”…Joel left his copy, and I was real bored…and I’m reading more about that Squid-Guy…” she sheepishly recounted, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

“Svidrigaylov” you joked with your best Russian accent.

“Yeah, Snake Eyes, Joel calls him. Seems like a real sonnafabitch…” she joked, immediately catching your eye as you both mouthed… “LANGUAGE”. Chuckling with one another easily, Ellie paused considering her next words carefully. “Joel said…you were real good at keepin’ secrets?”

You looked at Ellie cautiously, Joel’s enigmatic words reflected back at you, and wincing slightly at their double meaning. “Your secrets are safe with me” you finally promised, sitting back and awaiting Ellie’s response. Ellie took a deep breath before beginning.

“You know I told you about Henry and Sam, who we met on the road?” she started, her fingers idling spooling a loose thread from her well-worn winter’s sweater. You nodded somberly, the periphery of your mind drifting to Joel’s whereabouts. Ellie needed him. Was he okay? Where was the patrol? What if things somehow took a turn for the worst? 

“Go on” you encouraged, shaking your head of the clouding, fearful cobwebs.

“Well, we met other…people. Some of them not so nice. There was a man…who pretended to be…He called himself a preacher, and he was anything but. Unless he was preaching a gospel of…shit” Ellie pursed her lips, caught between her own indecision and need. “He was a real bastard…and his flock! He lied to them…manipulated them. Used them” Ellie stopped, struggling with the memory of it. Your eyes narrowed in comprehension. No way in hell would Joel let anything happen to Ellie on his watch. What had happened? Is this the secret everyone was so reticent to share? You would never doubt Joel’s intentionality, and whatever he had done, you KNEW it was for a good reason.

“What happened, Ellie? Did Joel hurt him? Did Joel…kill him?” you tried to make the statement neutrally, as though speaking to a wounded animal, as Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers.

“It was me” she croaked, almost inaudibly. “I did it. I killed him”. Her face took on a strange detachment, eyes clouding over with disassociation. “Everything was on fire. He was gonna……so I did it. I killed him…before he killed me”. Your eyes quickly flitted to the open doorway, ensuring that no one was standing within earshot. 

“Who knows about this?” you whispered, drawing your arms across the desk and taking Ellie’s hands carefully in yours.

“Just Joel” she cried quietly. “He found me after”.

You nodded your head solemnly, still anxious as to where Joel was. No wonder he was so protective of her, and who could blame him? No child should have to endure what Ellie had experienced.

“Joel said it was self defense but…” the pallor of her face immediately paled “but what if it wasn’t?” Ellie’s voice sounded nearly strangled in her throat as a wave of tears threatened to pour forth.

“Honey, if Joel said it was self defense, then that’s what it was. You know you can trust him” you assuredly stated, rubbing Ellie’s hands together and rising from your desk. “Humans will do whatever they must, in order to survive, and it sounds like you did just that” you humbly offered. “Come on, let’s get you home, I’m not letting you spend another night with the memory of that Squid-Guy” you tried to jest, Ellie tiredly grinning. “Maybe we’ll take a little break from ‘Crime and Punishment’ for a while?” you questioned, hugging her around the waist and nodding together. What the hell kind of apocalypse were you living in, that children had to ask these kinds of existential questions instead of basic math? In that moment, you vowed to protect Ellie in the same ways that Joel had. He would come back. He had to. But if someday he didn’t, Ellie would NOT be alone.

Trudging through the never-ending snow you arrived at the Miller Household later than evening, a fresh stack of books procured from The Bookshop, and a fresh pot of stew enjoyed with the fire. Ellie had quickly retired to her bedroom, the result of a string of nightmarish evenings while awaiting Joel’s return. Rascal the Cat sat curled at your feet, as you perused the reading material recently found. It was a strange cornucopia of items; “Jane Eyre” (though it seemed to be missing several pages), a collection of poetry by various authors, “In Cold Blood” by Truman Capote. You had just begun to rifle through the many options when your heart lurched at the lumbering figure leading up to the doorstep. The orange tabby mewled affectionately, as you heard the heavy stomp of boots hit the landing before some mumbled profanities and the sound of keys dropping to the stoop. You sat up curiously, anxious for Joel’s possible arrival as the door flung open in a wintry bluster, Joel tripping slightly over the lip of the frame before he shut the door. You immediately smelled the sweet fragrance of whiskey as Joel stumbled backwards into his own home, shaking the snow off the shoulders of his winter jacket, his head lolling sideways to catch your surprised gaze from the living couch.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Joel slurred, his eyes half mast as he removed his winter jacket halfway, catching his arms at the elbows. “You here to save me, teach?” he hiccuped, stumbling forward slightly and bracing himself heavily at the back of the couch.

Holy hell.

Pike's Place Elf

Yay! Here's Episode Three of @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge! I'm really digging this slow burn series, final episode on Christmas Day :) A big thank you to @inept-the-magnificent for cool rec's and assists!

Triggers: lite smut, profanity, discussions of isolation/pandemic, that d@mn snow suit (costume malfunctions), stranded motorist, honestly at this point in the story we might just die of sugar overload, literal and metaphoric please proceed at your own risk...

Series Masterlist:

The fire was crackling brightly, flickering across Pike’s face as he gazed longingly into your eyes. Your body was perched atop his on the couch, two glasses of wine sitting in front of the television screen playing an endless loop of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Snow was lightly falling across the pristine white landscape, as the both of your were housed in a cocoon of winter wonders. You sighed heavily into his chest, body thrumming with anticipation.

“I can’t believe this is happening” he whispered lowly, grazing his lips across the soft flesh of your neck, noticing the breath hitch in your throat haltingly. “Is this okay?” he pulled back with concern, his large hands rubbing your shoulders in one fluid motion and watching you intently.

“More than okay” you smiled, leaning in and hovering just above his lips teasingly. “This has been a Christmas I’ll never forget” you breathed into his ear, watching the goose bumps splay across his cinnamon skin. You felt the corners of his mouth turn up against your cheek, beard tickling at your grin as you pulled back to see his expression.

“I think showing up on my doorstep in the middle of a blizzard, wearing…THAT…was particularly memorable” he joked, eliciting small tickles from you as he crumpled in a protective vice, smashing your body against his in a useless defense.

“You were the one in your slutty, gray sweatpants crying into your Merlot!” you taunted mercilessly, reaching your hands around to his sides and pinching his ribs.

“Ouch!” Pike laughed, pausing dramatically until he had your full attention. “I was NOT crying into my Merlot…”. Your tickling hands halted for a millisecond, unsure if you had inadvertently hurt his feelings, or crossed a line. “It was a Pinot Noir.” Pike could give as good as he could take, and launched a full fledged tickle assault as you writhed atop his body with delight. You were squealing like a small child, squeaking and huffing as Pike tenderly wrestled you into submission. His movements started to slow, until his hands were gripping your back, and moving in small circles, lower and lower and lower. Your pupils dilated to to lustful circles, feeling magnetically drawn to his pouty lips, closer and closer and closer until….

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You inhaled quickly, taking an adrenaline fueled moment to look around the room in assessment. The cozy dream you had been enjoying started to recede into the hazy background. It was juxtaposed against the pounding of your heart keeping time with the knocks at the door.

“I don’t want to scare you, but I think there’s a good chance a mystery woman in a pink snow suit may have burgled my winter cabin last night?” the muted tones of Pike drifted through the cabin door as you eyed said snow suit across the room. Grabbing at the sheets, you pulled them up to your chin, remembering you were only wearing a t-shirt you had found in his cabinet that was sinfully soft and smelling of a woodsy pine. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to you, drumming in your chest. There weren’t a lot of options after Bessie the Hyundai had come to an unceremonious halt in this unexpected blizzard. Trudging the distance to a nearby cabin you had come upon Agent Marcus Pike, unlikely tipsy hero, who had offered you lodging in this unexpected conundrum. Truthfully, he had primarily offered you hot chocolate, as you listened to his melancholy tale of heart break and isolation. It hadn’t taken much to draw you in to the warmth of his personality and plight, particularly as it seemed aided by one too many glasses of red. Falling asleep on the couch you had tucked him in for the night and headed upstairs to survive the snow storm. The fuzzy remnants of your dream flashed into your memory as a smirk dotted your face. Guess it was obvious which direction your subconscious was headed, as it dragged your conscious mind right along with it. But would Agent Pike seem nearly as adorable in the harsh light of day? 

“I must remind you in this moment that I AM a man of the law, and trespassers will be treated with the utmost stringency and repudiation”. Silence followed as you gulped dryly. Oh my. Maybe he didn’t remember the events of last night and had already called the police. A quick image of you in a pink snowsuit and handcuffs flashed comedically across your mind scape.

“I’m not trespassing!” you called out, trying to diffuse the situation. The door gently swung open on a light squeak as Pike stood before you in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks carrying…a tray of pancakes?

Your mouth dropped open slightly taking in the angelic sight before you. You almost had to laugh at the comical rom-com persona grimacing before you, silhouetted by the morning sun. Pike couldn’t have appeared MORE cinematic, as you took in the bowl of pinecones, restaurant perfect pancakes, glass of orange juice and mug that read… “I’m only a morning person on Christmas Day”.

“I don’t usually make pancakes for burglars, but in this case, I thought I’d make an exception?” he joked, taking a quick glance at your disheveled morning hair and freckled confusion. Oh you were even cuter than he remembered from last night. Truthfully, he didn’t remember much. There was pink, there was a crowbar, there was…lingerie? That part seemed more like a fever dream. But glancing out the window of his snow-covered cabin he could clearly see a small car dotting the landscape, and the aforementioned crowbar sat atop the living room table, so there was evidence enough of his Merlot fueled fantasy. Somehow Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and the whole experience was a bit muddled in his mind, but he was fairly certain a roadster had requested lodging for the night and…he furrowed his brow in concentration. There was a lot of pink. Sexy pink? He cleared his throat with discomfort. One more example of romanticizing EVERY moment indiscriminately. But standing before you, gazing at your questioning expression he felt slightly justified in his usually theatrically perceptions. His memory was functioning just fine. You WERE adorable. And he had pancakes.

“I…uh…don’t remember ALL the details from last night, but I noticed your car out front, and thought you might have found yourself slightly stranded…” he trailed off, eyes widening at the sparkly pink bra draped across an even louder pink snowsuit. Ah, that was…something. The tray shook in his hand ever so slightly as a red tint crossed his cheeks, blazingly hot. “Oh, we didn’t…um…I mean…” he stuttered with concern, noticing the t-shirt you were wearing from his closet.

“Absolutely not!” you blurted out, nearly standing up, but remembering you were only wearing his t-shirt underneath the bedsheets. “Agent Pike…I mean Mr. Marcus…M-Marcus!” you took a deep breath, attempting to still your heart throbbing loudly in your ears. “I don’t make it a point to take advantage of…members of the Art Squad..” you winced awkwardly attempting to form a cohesive thought “…who have taken ME in for the night” you punctuated your sentence definitively trying to regain some measure of composure, and spotting his sigh of relief with slight disappointment.

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight with indecision.

“What kind of pancakes are those” you managed to eek out, happy to fill the void.

“Chocolate chip! I don’t have much in the way of sugar so your coffee might taste like maple syrup, I don’t know how you like it.”

I’m more than happy to tell you how I like it, Agent Pike, you clandestinely thought, overjoyed to finally keep your inner monologue silent for once.

“Can I…?” Pike paused precariously at the doorstep, indicating the foot of the bed.

“Please” you rasped. Somehow this appeared a bit begging on your part so you cleared your throat for a second attempt. “Yes, please enter”. Good Lord, it’s getting worse. Why do I ever use words, you wondered as Pike jauntily walked in, setting the tray down at the foot of the bed, and grazing your ankle ever so slightly with his pinky. You jerked away nervously, suddenly aware of his close proximity. Pike’s eyes shot up to yours with intensity.

“I’m sorry you were having car trouble last night” he took a step back, clasping his hands behind him modestly. “I did call the local mechanic and Triple A in the interim, but everything seems to be inaccessible at the moment.”

You nodded your head appraisingly, unfortunately unsurprised. This California Girl didn’t know much about blizzards, but business was hard enough during the holidays, let alone on a Sunday. You took another detailed look at Agent Marcus Pike who was casting quite the coifed, clean shaven aesthetic this morning in a button down white shirt and even wearing his lanyard, adding to his official presence.

“I didn’t realize the Art Squad was so proficient in the culinary arts” you teased, eyeing him up and down.

He smirked shyly, drawing his hand behind his neck and rubbing slightly. “I didn’t realize burglars were so pretty” he bit his lip painfully, already annoyed at himself. Too much. 

Your cheeks reddened as you pulled the sheets up even higher than they already were. “Well, it’s important when you’re having car trouble to try to look as fabulous as you can” you chuckled self-deprecatingly, feeling a bit out of sorts. “And what about you Agent Pike, are you…headed to work?” you questioned, wondering at his apparel.

“Oh, this old thing? I only wear it when I don’t care how I look!” he chuckled, backing out of the room slowly. “And you can call me Mr. Marcus, I mean M-Marcus, if you want…” he tripped slightly over the frame, grabbing the doorknob to steady himself. “I’ll just be downstairs tidying up, no rush” he ducked his head out quickly before he said anything else.

You laughed quietly to yourself, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you weren’t the only one out of sorts. You gazed down at the steaming cup of coffee and plated pancakes and smiled. What holiday Hallmark movie had you stepped into?

Pike plodded down the stairs shaking his head from side to side. Nice one, Pike, real smooth, he chastised himself, heading back into the kitchen. Why didn’t you just ask her ring size while you were there? He had to chuckle to himself, trying to elicit a bit of grace, noticing “Elf” playing on the television screen. That’s not an old movie, he muttered under his breath, but smiling with recognition. If anybody understood Buddy the Elf it was him. Endlessly optimistic, overly enthusiastic and a hopeless romantic. He took a moment to appreciate the roaring fire in the hearth, and pulled back the curtains to see your small forlorn Hyundai, punctuating the snowscape. Still on East Coast time, he had awakened bright and early, using all of his investigative skills to piece together the previous evening. It was unlike him to have spent so much time moping in the preceding week, and your unexpected arrival had jarred him into a state of productivity. Re-starting his indoor exercise regiment, he decided to make a better “first impression”, jumping in the shower and presenting a clean-shaven business appearance. He didn’t want you to think he was a lush, wiling away the holiday hours and fretting into his Merlot. It’s true the last couple months had been an emotional roller coaster, but there was no better time than the present to turn over a new leaf. Pike looked around the tidied cabin appraisingly. He had already called Triple A, and the local mechanic, to no avail. He’d already been up for four hours and was attempting to quell the nervous restlessness bouncing around inside his chest. Still smarting from his recent romantic escapades, he was well aware that enthusiasm was his downfall. He just couldn’t help himself, and the holidays seemed to intensify his longing. Perhaps he could just enjoy the possibility of a new friendship, and help you on your way to wherever you were going. He gazed over at Buddy who had just finished decorating all of Macy’s in a holiday extravaganza. Rolling up his sleeves with determination, he reasoned there was only one thing left to do in this anxious state. It was time to start baking.

Ever since Pike’s gentle appearance at the door, your heart wouldn't stop hammering in your chest. It had been so long since you made any new friends, let alone someone…from the Art Squad. You mindlessly inhaled the delectable breakfast Pike had assembled, downing the maple flavored cup of coffee in one gulp. What was a girl to do? This wasn’t a real Hallmark Holiday special. This wasn’t “It’s a Wonderful Life” and you weren’t Donna Reed. You were here, on a working vacation, as per your therapist’s recommendation, and Bessie the Hyundai had mercilessly betrayed you on this blustery blizzard Sunday. Firmly grasping your fantasies in one hand you hopped out of bed, determined to double down on your holiday independence. If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was, and you were obviously infringing on Marcus’ Holiday solo expedition. Sorry, Agent Pike, you reprimanded yourself. No getting familiar now, just because he had accidentally seen you in your altogethers. Pull up your big girl snow suit and get back to work! Taking off his large t-shirt you gripped it in your hands, indulging in one final inhale of the woodsy cologne, and flung it onto the bed. Something for the road, you reasoned, hopping back into your pink snowsuit and mustering every ounce of determination you had left. You gazed over at the demolished breakfast, disappointed at your decision to make a quick exit. Compliments to the chef, you pouted, willing yourself to dart down the stairwell, before you changed your mind.

“IamsosorryIinterruptedyourholidayvacayIcantthankyouenoughforthemazingbreakfastandhospitality.HonestlyitssoembarassingthatBessiekonkedoutIamsureIcangiveitanothergo.AndthankyouagainforallofyourhelpAgentPike!”

Pike peaked his head out of the kitchen just in time to see the flurry of pink cascading by him in a tornado of activity, whisking down the stairwell and practically running toward the door.

“Oh watch out for the…!”

If you had paused long enough to see Pike’s fallen countenance at your quick departure you might have anticipated the upcoming results. But grabbing the crowbar on your exit, you flung open the cabin door and nearly fell over the waist high tumult of snow.

“….snow fall!” Pike managed to get out before a clump fell on top of your head poised just beneath the door frame. You had never seen so much snow in all your life. The momentum of your exit catapulted you forward as you fell face first into the soft pillowed blanket of snow. Pike hurried forward, grasping your snow suit around the waist and hoisting you back up to a standing position. You inhaled shakily, icicles stinging your cheeks as your feet slid on top of the snowy dregs. “Steady there, sailor!” Pike laughed, gripping you hard around the waist and pulling you in for an awkward hug. This seemed vaguely reminiscent of your earlier dream, as he reached up to brush some stray snowflakes from your surprised expression. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere for the next 24 hours” he appraised, somewhere between an apology and a suggestion, as you blinked confusedly. “Let’s get you indoors for a second” he surmised, taking in your silence and sliding you back into the cabin’s warmth. He left his hand on your lower back for a bit longer than was absolutely necessary, making sure you had your sea legs and then give you a quick wink before heading back into the kitchen.

“I already called Triple A and the mechanic down the hill, but you’re welcome to ring them as well” he called from the kitchen, returning to his task at hand. You shook your head violently from side to side. So much for Barbie’s break for independence, you scoffed, looking over at the flickering television screen and Zooey Deschanel singing in the shower. Maybe this wasn’t a situation you could easily run from.

“How did those pancakes treat ya?” he inquired, grabbing a nearby apron that said “Who Needs a Hug?” and pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. Momentarily stunned into silence you tried to get your bearings in the midst of this snowy quandary. Your Arts and Crafts Girl Scout Training hadn’t prepared you for this particular scenario, but you were an independent gal, with brains and boobs. Time to rally your wits and try anew.

“Um…the pancakes were absolutely amazing” you confessed, watching Pike beam with pride and pour you another cup of coffee in the interim. “Are you starting a bed and breakfast anytime soon?’ you teased, pulling your snowsuit hood back down and taking the coffee from him.

“I think I’m gonna need better hosting skills for that to happen” he apologized with chagrin. “I’m not sure you were catching me at my best last night” the pained expression on his face, softened your resolve as you plopped down at the dining room table huffily.

“Maybe we have a do-over this morning, I’m not sure either of us were on our best behavior” you gulped down your second cup of joe as Pike set down the cookie tray and outstretched his hand.

“I’m Marcus Pike from the Art Squad in Sacramento, and you are?”

You took his hand warmly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m snow time Barbie, I come with props, though there have been some factory disputes regarding my somewhat defunct Hyundai.” Pike smiled broadly in acknowledgement, returning to his baking. 

“Sounds like Pike’s Place is just the spot for you”.

You and Pike feel into an easy rapport for the next hour, chatting about holiday plans run amok, recent work challenges and options for your car’s retrieval. After some digging on your part you confirmed that all nearby resources were in the lurch and you’d be forced to spend at least the next 24 hours at “Pike’s Place” whether he wanted you to or not. Downing a glass of cold milk, Pike patted his stomach with contentment.

“I think I’ve probably eaten enough chocolate chip cookies for the both of us”, he laughed, returning your coffee mug to the sink and starting the dishes. “Do you wanna watch a movie while we wait out the storm? I think I already offered, but there IS hot chocolate…”.

You paused reflexively catching yourself in a Cheshire like grin. You hadn’t even been hesitant the last hour, revealing parts of yourself that had stayed hidden for the last several years, and being unaccustomed to that level of intimacy, started experiencing an emotional hangover of sorts. Your face literally hurt from smiling so much, but what did you really know about Marcus? Agent. Pike. This was a lot to process in a short amount of time, and the walls of the cabin started to feel just a bit more oppressive in retrospect. The fire roared loudly from the hearth as you back pedaled slightly. 

“Um, is it possible to use your laptop for some work, maybe? I AM supposed to be on a working vacation…” you ventured, attempting to reboot to something a bit more neutral.

“Come on, you don’t need to work on a Sunday!” Pike teased from the kitchen.

“Well, you don’t really know me very well, do you?” the sentence escaped your lips before you had a chance to consider the ramifications. The mood immediately shifted from the cozy camaraderie you had been experiencing to a blizzard like cold.

“I guess that’s true…” Pike stalled, wondering in the tonality shift. “But I’d…like the chance…if you have time…” he trailed off, unsure of his direction.

You kind of stopped breathing for a second, grappling with the many emotions fighting for your attention. What was going on? Once again your snow suit seemed hotter than ever as you picked at the cuticles on your nails. Had you actually forgotten how to interact with other humans? Did the pandemic really fuck you up so much you couldn’t even consider the possibility that someone might actually like you, without some sort of hidden agenda?

“I can come up with lots of activities!” Pike tried to brighten the mood again. “I think we’ve got Twister…uh…cards…puzzles? Oooh, maybe we could make some snowflakes out of newspaper!” he piped up over the clanging dishes.

“Snowflakes?” you uttered, incredulously. “Are you kidding, Art Squad? This isn’t a daycare, I actually have some work I need to get done…”

“Oh. Right.” Pike stuttered, returning to the dishes. The silence stretched out awkwardly before you, as you gazed at his broad back and now hunched shoulders. Outside of his gaze you bit your lower lip with embarrassment. Where did that come from? No wonder you hadn’t dated anyone in years. Bitch. I don’t deserve somebody like Pike, you rationalized, suddenly very aware of your limitations, both without and within. You felt your eyes welling up with tears unexpectedly.

“I mean, if that’s okay with you…” you stumbled forward politely, trying to assemble your emotions one at a time. Get in a line, motherfuckers, you chided. You’re a guest, you’re stranded and you have nowhere else to go. Just because you’re alone on the holidays doesn’t mean you have to take it out on Mar…on Agent Pike.

Pike cleared his throat, softening his expression slightly. “Sure, just check the briefcase over there in the study” he muttered, trying to focus on the dishes. You quietly stood up, heading over to the side room and quickly caught sight of his briefcase. Popping open the metal latches, his laptop thunked to the bottom as you caught sight of several manilla folders and a small photo of a smiling woman with kind, brown eyes.

Uh oh. The ex.

You picked up the photo hesitatingly, as though rummaging around through his underwear drawer. I wonder if he wears boxers of briefs? Oh shut up, Barbie. You swallowed hard, wondering at the circumstances you both found yourselves in. You truly believed everyone was just doing their best. You didn’t have the copyright on injustice or personal heartache. It wasn’t easy to make changes or move in a new direction, but Pike was trying to move on, and he didn’t need your insecurities or relative isolation clouding his own. Get it together woman, you resolved. You can do better than this. Make a plan to get yourself out of this situation and leave Agent Pike to his own healing. Heaven’s knows you’re not put together enough to warrant his attentions. You stifled a small sniffle, feeling that all too familiar lump in your throat rising to the surface. Grabbing the laptop you returned to the living room, determined to make a better representation of yourself, but found the setting completely still.

Agent Pike did seem like a fantastical figment of your imagination, but even the Art Squad couldn’t evaporate into thin air. Your heart sank, realizing how alone you might truly be if not for the safety of the cabin and Pike’s warm disposition. Did you really just ruin things from the get go? Sitting quietly at the dining room table you had just haltingly opened the laptop when Pike lumbered down the stairs in a winter jacket and heavy snow boots.

“Be right back” he muttered, flinging the door wide open and shutting it abruptly behind  him. He continued, wading through the waist high snow to a nearby woodshed.

Mouth ajar, you peered out the snowy window to see him retrieve a snow shovel and begin barreling towards Bessie with decided purpose. Your lip quivered with emotion as a single, unbidden tear found its way down your cheek, pattering to the floor. Jesus, you can’t even manage one day with a perfect specimen like Marcus, how were you ever going to make it work with anyone in this state of mind, particularly during the holidays? Sigh. You returned to the dining room table awash with defeat. Agent Pike. His name is Agent Pike.

Pike allowed the cold sting of the snowy tundra to purify his meandering thoughts as he drove a hard line to Bessie the Hyundai. This is a test, Pike, hegrunted with effort, flinging powdery snow to either side, making quick work of his hundred foot task. When faced with temptation are you going to take the path of least resistance or are you going to man up and admit the truth? Pike paused to catch his breath looking back at the cozy cabin and billowing plumes of smoke chugging from the happy chimney. What truth? He coughed heartily, watching his breath blossom in the cold air. It’s time to start thinking realistically, and without entitlement. This woman doesn’t owe you anything, and the most important thing you can do is get her back on the road to relative safety. And maybe pack some chocolate chip cookies for the road, he nodded with resolve. Are you a man of the law, or not? Now get crackin’…He started shoveling like a man possessed, determined to carve a quick path to Bessie and get you back on the road as soon as possible. No time for love, Pike. It’s the holidays. Get ‘er done.

Now faced with the relative silence of the roaring fire you sat silently in front of the blinking cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Your eyes blinked back the tears that were starting to crowd your vision. WHY was it always so damn hot in here??? You unzipped the top portion of your snow suit, perspiration dotting your chest and sparkly pink lingerie. Something about your relative inability and helplessness had you needlessly lashing out at poor Pike. That lump in your throat tightened exponentially as you attempted to bulldoze through some work emails. Pike was right, you don’t need to do anything on a Sunday. Who were you kidding? Pike was so friendly and unassuming, he reminded you of all your need and loneliness. You paused to consider the warmth radiating from his entire personhood. JEEEESUS it was warm, you aggressively pulled your arms out of the snow suit, bunching it at your waist and wiping a film of sweat from your brow. If you didn’t learn how to bite your tongue you were gonna end up completely alone for the rest of your life. The tears started running down your face indiscriminately as you looked over at James Caan, chewing out Buddy the Elf for his holiday enthusiasm. You could really use that hot chocolate right now…IF IT WASN’T SO DAMN HOT!!! You blew a strand of hair out of your face as the front door flung open, a blast of cold air rippling through the cabin refreshingly.

Jumping to your feet with resolve you just managed to shout, “I’M SORRY!”…before the snow suit slipped to the floor around your ankles.

Pike stood poised with your luggage in one hand and snow shovel in the other before it clattered loudly to the floor. He gulped loudly, unsure of where he should be looking, as the corners of his mouth twitched upward in delight.

You pursed your lips comedically, unwilling to lose any ground at this point, and authoritatively placed your hands on your hips. And why not? You work out. Half the population has boobs, and the other half wants them, so there’s nothing new under the sun. You giggled a bit attempting to proceed, “I would like to apologize!”

“You would????” Pike bellowed, dropping your luggage next, nearly tripping over it as he slammed the door shut.

“Yes I would!” you shouted back, now covering your mid-drift section and shivering ever so slightly. “I’m sorry I’m being ridiculous…” you tried to subtly slide downward pulling the snow suit back up around you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve…felt…feelings” you meandered forward, unsure of how to articulate your own confusion. “I’m just used to being alone, and fixing things on my own and…I apologize” you reiterated, zipping the snow suit back up and vowing to change into normal clothes ASAP.

Pike sighed with relief, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “There’s nothing to apologize for” he sighed. “I always come on too strong with people I like” he paused abruptly, waiting on your response. “And…I do like the color pink” he chuckled, unzipping his winter coat and kicking off the powdery lumps of snow from his boots.

“I would like to make it up to you” you pondered, as Pike froze with curiosity.

“How?” he whispered, immediately tightening his lips with restraint. “I mean, what exactly did you have in mind?”

Having both changed into a more cozy pair of pajamas you emerged from the kitchen, now wearing the aforementioned apron and balancing two plates of pasta in your outstretched arms. “Do we dare open another bottle of Merlot?” you teased, rounding the corner and gesturing to the coffee table in front of you. “Elf” had restarted for the AMC marathon and Pike grinned expectantly at the culinary offering.

“I’m game if you are” he rose to take the plates from your grasp as you returned to the kitchen to locate a new bottle and two wine glasses. You pushed the memory of your earlier dream to the side, content with the new friendship you had forged with your unlikely hero. Bessie was still anchored firmly in the tundra, as a new wave of snow lightly feathered down on the cozy cottage. It was going to be at least 48 hours or more until you could attempt another winter escape. But currently, that didn’t seem quite as oppressive as it once did, a loud pop resounding from the kitchen as you uncorked the Merlot pouring its heady aroma into the wine glasses before you. You padded into the living room, noting your matching gray sweatpants. Pike beamed with anticipation as you sat across from him, offering a glass of congratulations.

“Thanks for bringing in my luggage, I really don’t know what I would have done without your assistance” you toasted him with celebration, enjoying the light clink of your glasses touching rims.

“It was my pleasure” Pike returned, drawing the glass up to his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the best cook, so it’s lucky your last Instacart order arrived when it did. I think we might be stuck here for the indefinite future” you worried, however secretly enthusiastic at the turn of events.

“This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship” he surmised, licking his lips pointedly and clinking glasses once again.

Happy holidays, you smirked, as the wind blustered outside. Happy holidays, indeed.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse (iii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Triggers: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, blood, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Rothko's "Red On Maroon", thanks @thecutestgrotto for dividers!

My Darling Muse,

I am a gaping wound, Aligned with your iron fluidity Throbbing with the passion of blood Warming at your scalding touch Like lava, I flow unbidden, a verse of self unhindered and free Pulsing, ebbing, molten and boiling Pistoning forward in poisonous acid, I am the red monster Alight with desire, wings unfurled in splendor and terror I survey all and know little, a word unspoken A thought unuttered, a feeling unrequited, A husk of a shell unravelled, like trinkets in a wind chime My words bounce on a red dawn A red tide that bears stealthy fruition A soundless crimson wave of meaning, Into your chasm I plummet, into the red void I sojourn Feathered wings in pained approach Molt and melt like Icarus, I am the red death I am the maroon birth, I am love alight And rage unaltered (scribbled in margins: Was Rothko bi? Is blood a good paint substitute? What's it like to date a vampire? Can I list myself as a Google location? Online anger management...with goats.)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he even knows who I am, but I also run his TikTok page so he can "commune with the proletariat". His fellow actor and good buddy Pedro Pascal recently recommended "Autobiography of Red" by Anne Carlson. And Dieter has similarly been obsessed with John Logan's production of "Red"....No Dieter, I won't mention you thought it was originally a musical about menstruation...

Pedge Paints Refugee Day

Beldro Ramscal posted about Refugee Day with beautiful poetry and support! Included is also the Pedro narration of Chilean, Pulitzer Price Winning Poet Gabriela Mistral piece, "Give Me Your Hand", set to the Chilean National Anthem...

My Darling Muse (iv),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Trigger: It's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse,

(Bluets Excerpts by Maggie Nelson) “Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color.” “I am writing all this down in blue ink, so as to remember that all words, not just some, are written in water.” “Fucking leaves everything as it is. Fucking may in no way interfere with the actual use of language.” “To take a breath of water: does the thought panic or excite you?” “sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink-- Here you are again, it says, and so am I.” “I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.” “And we have not yet heard enough, if anything, about the female gaze. About the scorch of it, with the eyes staying in the head.” “And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?” *written in margins: Blue Balling? Was I a fish in a previous life? Is Blue...bi? How do you say "fuck" in Latin? Only blue stuff. I love baby goats, but not like that...Practice female gaze...

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I don't have much time to talk. Dieter has sworn off writing, after his good pal Pedro Pascal recommended "Bluets" by Maggie Nelson. Now Dieter claims he isn't worthy to worship at the feet of Blue, and is re-painting all 5 bedrooms in his house. Yes, Dieter I'm going to the store right now for all Blue foods...No, I don't think Blue Koolaid is produced naturally...Yes, I promise to listen to Joni Mitchell's album "Blue" and think primarily Blue thoughts for the month of October. I'm not sure if you can dye a goat's hair blue, but we can look into it...I gotta go folks, this is getting out of hand...

Blue Album by Joni Mitchell

*Van Gogh

*Picasso's Blue Period

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Moody Whiskey

"I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie's out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.”

Moody Ricky

I'm sure most of us would like to be "touched by this angel" and I'm going to try to catch the episode this evening. Back in the day I used to watch Touched By an Angel religiously, who knew we were all viewing our lifetime crush in real time?

Pike's Place Nightmare Before Christmas

Thanks to @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" this dynamic duo is going strong till Christmas Day. I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: fainting, nightmares, argument, profanity, reference to alcohol, gun use, emergency scenario, panic attack

Series Masterlist

“What are you doing?!” Pike implored, jumping up from the couch and nearly falling over the coffee table in the process.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you pleaded, wrapping yourself more tightly in an attempt to disappear into the floorboards.

“I know we’ve grown closer over the last few days…but you can’t just…How much Merlot did you have?” he questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stumbling slightly in the darkened room. Ella Fitzgerald weirdly kept repeating "I’m not yours, for better or for worse" as the record skipped jovially…

“ImsosorryIwasjusttryingtogetupthecouragetosaysomethingandyoulookedosadorablesleepingIcoulndttellifyouhadfeelingsformeandIvebeensoalonethelastfewyearsIthoughtwereallyhadaconnectionandIwouldneverwanttodoanythingthatmadeyouuncomfortableIveneverbeensoembarassedImsosorry!”

Pike was breathing heavily, running his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation and looking wildly around the room as Ella warbled repetitively from the phonograph.

“What is it you want?” he questioned, pausing as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. “Have you been playing me this whole time?”

Your eyes widened to pleading saucers, holding your hands out in supplication, “Marcus, let me explain…”.

“It’s Agent Pike” his eyes darkened slightly as the room became somehow hot and cold simultaneously. This can’t be happening, you thought as a chill ran through your body unexpectedly. This was your worst nightmare becoming a reality. You had finally circumvented your isolation and fear and taken a real risk and it had blown up in your face. Four years of working from home, becoming more and more distant from friends and family, therapy, a pandemic…You looked over at the nearly finished bottle of Merlot. Geez, did you have a drinking problem now, too? Shaking your head to clear the cobwebs you felt the creeping tendrils of a small headache form at the base of your skull. How had everything gone so wrong in a matter of minutes? And what did Marc…what did Agent Pike say about Washington D.C? Your thoughts were flashing wildly across your mind scape but not making any sense. You weren’t drunk, so why was everything so confusing? You looked up at Pike pacing nervously back and forth as the television sent bizarre flickering images across his face and body.

Share for share, share alike You get struck each time I strike You for me- me for me- I'll give you plenty of nothing I'm not yours for better but for worse And I've learned to give the well-known witches' curse I've a terrible tongue, a temper for two And everything I've got belongs to you, you, you, you, you, you, you….

Your breath hitched in your chest as Ella outlandishly skipped over and over again, adding a horrible paranoia to an already uncomfortable moment.

“For heaven sakes!” Pike huffed, yanking the needle off the phonograph and eliciting a bone chilling scratching sound in the speakers. He picked up the record and smashed it across the hearth. The fire crackled ironically, as Pike looked at you as though seeing for the first time. “I think you should leave” he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground uncomfortably and almost backing into the formerly cheery Christmas Tree behind him. “Now. I need you to leave now.”

“What?” you whispered, gulping with anxiety and beginning to consider the ramifications of his statement. What time was it? Maybe 2am in the morning? You hugged your body to your chest fearfully, balking with incredulity. Pike might not reciprocate your feelings, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It was officially Christmas Eve, where were you supposed to go in a blizzard? Could you stay in your car till the storm subsided? Maybe you could just promise to stay in the upstairs bedroom till the mechanic arrived…or sleep in the wood shed? A lump immediately formed in your throat as tears sprang to your eyes. This is what you get for believing in yourself, you chided. Pike told you to be the hero of your own story, and now you were going to be more alone than ever.

“Get out. Now!” Pike shouted, grabbing the manilla envelope from under the tree and throwing it in the fire.

“No!” you shuddered, reaching for the envelope helplessly, praying you could somehow salvage the turn of events. You watched the unknown gift crumple into flames, feeling as though your heart were somehow mangled in the smoke. Coughing and sputtering, you stood to your feet, swaying slightly with confusion, feeling an oppressive weight bearing down on you.

“Marcus, I never meant to…” you doubled over in weakness as the room spun around you overwhelmingly.

“Agent! Pike!” he exclaimed, picking up the Christmas Tree and shoveling it into the roaring fireplace. The room was getting hotter and hotter as you fell to the floor gasping for air. The entire cabin was going up in flames. You felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, clawing at your own mortality as Marcus started laughing maniacally…

“Get out of my house!” he cackled, his eyes alight with revenge and terror, seemingly basking in your cries for help.

“Please, please…” you heard yourself crying until…

You sat bolt upright in bed, awakening to the sound of your own voice. Blinking rapidly in the nearly pitch black room you heard the howling wind outdoors. You were covered in sweat and had a pounding headache. Damn Merlot, you reprimanded yourself as the reality of the evening’s events cascaded, unbidden, into your foggy dream-like state. If only THAT had also been a nightmare, but no such miracle occurred. You swallowed a fresh cascade of sobs, desperately wishing you had kept your desires to yourself. But no, you were determined to escape the never-ending isolation of the pandemic, and somehow ended up more alone than ever. Tomorrow, you were leaving, heading into an unknown future. Worse still, you might have lost a real friend in Pike, but what did it matter? Pike was moving to Washington D.C and you had just ruined the only opportunity that had graced your doorstep in a very long time. This was oh so very real. A real nightmare come to life. Your very own “Nightmare Before Christmas”…

Pike stared unblinkingly at the flickering images on the television screen. Perpetually hounded by nightmares for the last several days, he annoyingly found himself unable to sleep, replaying the evening over and over in his mind. He rubbed his forehead placatingly, trying to make sense of the recent complexities. Once again he had repeated the same enthusiastic mistakes, falling head over heels for an idyllic misrepresentation of the truth, and now he’d broken someone else’s heart in the process. He looked towards your upstairs doorway, cold and closed to the harsh winds battling outside. Were you okay? Were you asleep? Were you as unsettled as he was? How could he fix what had been so easily broken? One moment, he held you in his arms, caressing the very gift he had so desperately desired from day one. And the next, you were flying up the stairs in retreat, planning to permanently leave his life before Christmas had even come to fruition.

How had things gone so drastically wrong? First you were strangers. Then, you were circumstantial friends. He didn’t want to treat you like a captive audience. During all those conversations, all those movies, and all those glasses of Merlot, he didn’t want to ruin things the way he had with Lisbon. Even allowing himself to believe that love would find its way to him had felt impossible, so why even mention it? Why mention the move to Washington D.C when that information had only caused harm in the past? Why believe that love had shown up on his doorstep when that door was just going to lead to another dead end?

Pike watched the television as Jack Skellington battled between the two paradigms of Halloween and Christmas, trying to move into a holiday of celebration and joy, whilst somehow taking his own limitations with him. Cynically smirking at the ghoulish figures parading before him, he twitched once again hearing the howling blizzard which had only intensified over the last few hours. The once picturesque landscape had begun to turn, trees clawing loudly at the roof, wind arguing fiercely for dominance. At first a small glimmer of hope had begun to light in his heart. Perhaps he could stall your departure and make an explanation, but what was there to explain? He had come back to tie up loose ends with Lisbon, and after closing that door, had shipped his few belongings to D.C and determined to end the year in solitude. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the holidays would include…you.

And how had he accepted this newfound sense of acceptance and unexpected opportunity? By hiding valuable information and then giving in to his desires without considering the ramifications. He hoisted himself up to grab some more fuel for the fire. The least he could do as a good host was keep his guest warm and try to get you home in one piece before Christmas Day.

The front doorknob rattled ever so slightly as a particularly large gust of wind shook the cabin dauntingly. Pike silently took stock of the resources and reserves that he knew remained in the cabin. Living on the East Coast had given him some inclinations of a real winter, but this was extreme, especially for California. The pipes could freeze, power lines could go down. He was just wondering if he should check the landline in the study, when he caught the telltale overture of trouble. The television started flickering hesitantly along with the lights, until the very mechanism of life itself seemed to grind to a halt, all electricity evaporating into the ether and plunging Pike into immediate darkness. Things just went from bad to worse.

You clutched your chest, hearing the dull thud of your racing heartbeat as blood rushed through your ears. What was that? Somehow the room was even darker than before and you could no longer hear the twinkling sound of the television from the living room. What was going on? You pulled off Pike’s flannel pajamas, nimbly feeling your way to the ubiquitous pink snowsuit.

You hadn’t even waited for an explanation. After the embarrassment of throwing yourself at Pike in a Merlot infused bid for love, his Washington D.C confessional had been the ultimate bruise. For that matter, WHY didn’t Pike mention the Washington D.C move earlier? You bit your lower lip, searching haphazardly for your boots. You’d spent the last few hours tossing and turning over your own missteps, but it takes two to tango. Was he really so oblivious as to think that was an unimportant detail? You found your initial irritation beginning to blaze in the recesses of your regret and guilt. You knew that Pike was too good to be true, but somehow his own contagious enthusiasm had dulled the impenetrability of your emotional armor. You had started believing that love was possible. You hurriedly zipped up the snowsuit, considering your options. You didn’t want to impose on Agent Pike anymore than you had to. Maybe this was a sign to try to bring your old broken down Hyundai to life. Much like you, maybe Bessie still had some kick in her and had just stalled. Pausing to listen a dull thrumming sound clicked into gear and the cabin seemed to pulse with a timid heartbeat once again. You glanced at your dimly lit cell phone by the bedside table. Stuffing your feet into your snow boots you checked the phone’s reception. Dead.

Everything felt like it was disintegrating. You thanked your lucky stars you were with Marc…Agent Marc…Agent Pike, but what if your subconscious was right? Pike would never place you in any harm, but it was clear you had worn out your welcome. You were both going your separate ways, and that was that. Maybe we don’t know each other very well at all, you paused, wondering how you were going to extricate your Californian self from this Snowpocalypse of 2024. You felt like Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, pining after a love that was never going to come to fruition. Maybe you WERE that wilting version of Donna Reed in a snood, trapped in a reality that never seemed to mirror the deepest of your desires. It was time to face the music and bring this Hallmark Movie to an anticlimactic conclusion. Just another Christmas alone. You took a deep breath, resolving to exit Marcus’ life as quickly as you had entered it. Roll credits.

Pike was rummaging around the supply closet for a flashlight upon hearing the telltale squeak of the upstairs bedroom’s opening door. You squinted as the light hit your gaze unceremoniously, covering your eyes confusedly. “What’s going on?” you slurred a bit, stumbling down the first few steps. Pike lurched forward with a hand outstretched.

“God, be careful!” he raced up the stairs, taking hold of your elbow and easing you down the stairwell. You ended up at the bottom of the stairs, more confused than ever. Were you still drunk? The television twinkled softly amidst the glowing firelight, but the room felt disorienting at best. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, attempting to form some cohesive, dawning thoughts.

“I’m okay, just waking up…” you blinked rapidly, jumping at the scratching sounds above your head and across the nearby windows. “What was that?” you asked in hushed tones, adrenaline pumping through your system like a shot.

“The storm has really picked up since…you went to bed” he cautioned, drawing his arm around your back to steady you. “I think we’re okay, but those trees are a bit closer to the cabin than I’d like. Annnnnd…I think the power lines are down” he trailed off, hoping to keep you relatively calm and safe. “The generator kicked in, but it hasn’t been in use all year. I don’t feel great about our…situation” Pike pondered, always the man of preparation.

Your eyes widened in concern, wondering how long you could last if the storm continued to intensify. “Can we call for help? I don’t have any reception. What should we do next?”.

“I tried the landline in the study, nothing is getting through yet. I’m gonna head out for a bit and check the generator to see its condition” Pike reached for his jacket, but kept his hand around your waist in solidarity. You reached towards him imploringly, freezing slightly at the unexpected revelation.

“Is that a gun?” you whispered, suddenly quivering with more than the cold. You heard the soft smile in Pike’s voice, viewing his flickering countenance in the relative dark.

“I suppose being an agent on the Art Squad isn’t that dangerous, but it IS standard issue. Just taking extra precautions, there could be wildlife that were disturbed by the storm, or other stranded motorists. I’ve got to keep you safe. I mean, keep everybody safe…” he was rubbing your back in circles as you swayed from side to side. You were feeling overwhelmed, off-kilter, and vulnerable. What kind of assistance could you possibly be in a challenging situation like this? You swallowed dryly, attempting to focus on the firelight and form a cohesive thought.

“Wait, what? Heading outside? Now?!” you began to panic slightly, grabbing at Pike’s forearm. “I don’t want to be by myself! What if we can’t contact anyone? What if you get lost in the blizzard?” your mind began to race with possibility as you felt your throat tightening with emotion. Not alone. Not again. The pandemic came racing back with all of its isolation and feelings of helplessness. Pike paused, considering the options.

“Okay, just stay behind me and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” he grasped your shoulder good-naturedly, drawing his hand up to cup your face and finding a few stray tears. “Hey, what’s this?” he drew you into his body for a close embrace, allowing you to sniffle into his chest timidly. “We’re okay” he swayed with you from side to side, rubbing your back and holding you at the neck comfortingly.

“I’m just…so sorry…for earlier” you mumbled into his chest, feeling your fatigue catching up with you. Pike pulled back, his intentionality apparent even in the void like expanse of these challenging circumstances. The fire flickered dimly in the corner adding a serene warmth to the soft smile on his face. He sighed heavily, wiping his thumb in a circular motion across your cheek tenderly. “There’s…more to say” he began, until more limbs and twigs were crashing and scraping across the nearby windows. “At this rate, I’m not sure any of us are going to be leaving tomorrow” he gulped, taking your hand in his and heading towards the door. “This Christmas is turning into a nightmare, but I’m getting us to the finish line come hell or high water” he promised, flinging the door open and bracing you both against the moderate winds.

The blast of cold air nearly knocked you over in one fell swoop, as you gripped Pike’s hand with determination. It was as though you had been plunged into a full body ice bath, as the tingling, numbing sensation of the winds whipped through your hair and very being. You had a sudden clarity of purpose and renewed energy. Squinting into the snowy winds, you blearily identified the small wood shed about fifty feet away. The wind had cleared the snow a bit, but stray detritus and tree limbs were strewn around the tundra as Pike pulled you forward ambitiously.

“Let’s go!” he shouted over the din of the intense winds, cutting a path to the woodshed, in search of the enclosed generator. “Be careful!” he advised, gripping you tightly around the waist, attempting to shield you from the blizzard which was steadily increasing by the minute. You pursed your lips doggedly, determined to be of assistance. Looking behind you, you saw Bessie the Hyundai, shivering in the cold, her front windshield had been cracked and indented by a falling tree limb. Somehow seeing her forlorn condition, increased your own, as the two of you hobbled to the nearby woodshed, desperate for a solution. Stumbling to the doorway, Pike flung the door of the woodshed open as billows of smoke came cascading out. You fell backwards in surprise, a hard blanket of snow somewhat cushioning your fall as Pike grasped at your arm securely. “Well, that’s not good!” he shouted, motioning you to stay seated as he waved the billows of smoke helplessly. “No way this is gonna last much longer!” he yelled over the din of blistering maelstrom. “I know it hasn’t been used for ages, but I was at least hoping…” a skittering sound interrupted his query as he reached for his gun quickly.

“Jesus Christ” Pike muttered, dragging you backwards and positioning you along the outside corner of the woodshed. “Stay here” he cautioned before you had a chance to argue. You saw Pike’s athletic silhouette poised on the adjacent corner, gun outstretched protectively. He disappeared from sight as you held your breath hesitantly. The winds were like a steely hand, gripping your insides and swirling with a wintery menace. You sat tentatively, bracing yourself against the wooden fixture.

“Pike?” you called, steadily becoming more and more terrified as the moments lapsed. One. Two. Three…you thought back on your therapeutic training. Take stock of your five senses. What do you see? All I can see is snow. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, you thought. Four. Five. What do you smell? Coughing slightly, the arid bite of billowy smoke tickled your nasal passages. Six. Seven. What do you feel? I feel scared dammit, you retorted, crying out again. “Pike?”

Only the winds answered you.

What can you touch? You clasped your hands together for warmth, pining after the handhold you’d sacrificed with Pike’s temporary absence. You blew into your cupped hands for warmth. Eight. Nine.…What can you…?

“Holy hell!” Pike yelled as you heard a furious wrestling sound and then a gunshot echo in the howling winds.

“PIKE!!!!????” you screamed, covering your face in fear and tucking your body, wrapping your arms around your knees. Oh my God. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t feel anything. You were numb. You were nothing. You were completely alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. You rocked back and forth trying to catch your breath. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike” you whispered against the howling winds. You couldn’t form a thought, the world was swirling around you confusedly. You weren’t even human. A cry began to mangle at the epicenter of your sternum, radiating into your body as you sobbed hysterically. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike”.

Strong arms grasped you at the shoulders, shaking you ever so slightly as your head whipped up to see Marcus’ face pressed close to yours in concern. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything. You found yourself strangely disassociated, marveling at the pink in his cheeks and the snowflakes dotting his beautiful eyelashes. Not alone. Together. Pike. You and Pike. You smiled numbly, your head lolling back with exhaustion. Pike was shouting into your face, and you were smiling. Just smiling. What a nice Christmas, you thought bizarrely as Pike pulled you to your feet. You immediately collapsed into his arms as the world circled around in a vortex of cold and ice. What a nice Marcus, you thought haphazardly, feeling yourself caged against his broad chest and floating back towards the cabin. You began to hear the crunch of the snow underneath his feet, and the beating of his heart wildly against his chest. Such a pretty Christmas, you sighed, nuzzling into him for warmth and hearing the door slam behind you both abruptly. Pike laid you down on the couch as you watched him with bleary cheer, tossing more firewood into the hearth and returning to you in one quick motion.

Pike ran his hands fixedly over your entire body, looking for any injuries or wounds, as you grinned dopily, your senses quickly rushing back in arousal.

“Can you sit up?” Pike spoke, as though from another room, as your hearing started to focus on the low tones of his concerned voice.

“What?” you slurred, sitting up hesitantly and swaying with the effort. Pike ran his fingers over your scalp and down your arms, attempting to assess the situation. “Keep breathing, I’m gonna get you some water” Pike placed his hand over your sternum concernedly, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. Your thoughts were still blurry as you wondered at the magical fire crackling before you. At least one thing was aiding your survival, you mused, chewing your bottom lip numbly and placing your head between your legs weakly. You tried to take deep, centering breaths. What was going on?

“Damn!” you heard the shuddering of the pipes from the kitchen and Pike’s muted tones as he returned quickly to the living room, kneeling in front of you. “The pipes are frozen, I think” Pike complained, rubbing his hands over your arms and legs and bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” Pike swallowed dryly, looking intently into your eyes. Without thinking you flung yourself into Pike’s embrace, suddenly cognizant enough to grasp the recent chain of events. He gripped you firmly in a bear hug, swaying you gently from side to side. “Thought I lost you there for a second” he chuckled, rubbing your back warmly.

“Goddamit, Marcus!” you mumbled, pushing against his chest aggressively and falling back to the couch with exhaustion. Pike placed his hands on your knees, furrowing his brow with concern.

“I’m fine” he observed, taking off his jacket and hovering at your knees. “Did you hit your head? Are you cold?” he gazed back at the fire and looked above him as a creaking sound split the night air forebodingly.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled, sitting up unsurely and gripping the collar of his shirt. “I thought….I thought….I don’t know what I thought!!!!” you acquiesced, gripping your hands tightly around his neck and pulling him towards you. Pike rested his forearms on your thighs, bringing his forehead lightly to yours and breathing for a moment.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” he rhythmically repeated, willing your breathing to slow, while taking stock of the situation. “It kind of freaked me out, too” he whispered. “I know animals will sometimes seek out shelter in a blizzard, but the timing couldn’t be worse…” the cabin creaked again as though in confirmation. You tried to focus on Marcus’ lips as he spoke. What beautiful lips. You’d never noticed how plush they were. So soft. And kissable. You thought back on the disastrous, if not exciting events of the previous night. Sweet. His lips actually tasted sweet. You licked yours hungrily.

“I think we caught the little guy nibbling at the power cables” Pike paused dragging his hand over your forehead with care. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” his voice was still echoing strangely as you blinked heavily. He shook his head continuing undauntedly, “I don’t know much about generators, but I’m assuming we don’t want them smoking like a barbecue pit” Pike chuckled nervously as you reached up to delicately finger the snowflakes in his hair. He closed his eyes contentedly, trying to steady himself. “I haven’t been that scared in ages!” he twitched with self deprecation. “I sort of caught ‘Meeko’, unannounced. He sure didn’t take it very well”, Pike sagged with relief as you ran your fingers over his scalp. Awash with confusion and exhaustion you began giggling uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?” Pike grinned, opening his eyes to your tittering frame.

“Meeko?” you snickered with delight, “…like from Pocohontas? Our grand nemesis of the evening was a raccoon?” you stopped abruptly, suddenly a bit sobered. “Oh my God, did you shoot him?” you gulped, unzipping the snowsuit a bit, to defrost.

Pike shrugged comedically. “Contrary to popular belief, the Art Squad is not the Firing Squad” he jested, “I think he scared me more than I scared him. He definitely ran off in to the woods, but we are none the safer” he glanced towards the kitchen in defeat, pausing to strategize.

“Let me think out loud for a second, my mind is swimming” he reasoned, carefully standing and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “The generator is nearly gone, Bessie is officially out of commission. Landlines are down, as is our cell phone reception. We’ve still got some food, which we could chill outdoors if necessary, but the pipes are frozen. I mean, we’re literally surrounded by snow and we could just melt some of it if things get desperate. But who knows how long the generator will last, and this fire is our main source of warmth. I guess we could burn the Christmas Tree if we ran out of fire wood?” Pike heaved a hefty sigh of defeat, looking at the formerly homey symbol of holiday cheer, now figuratively going up in flames. “But at least you’re not going anywhere this Christmas Eve” Pike tried to focus on that silver lining, peering up at the ceiling with apprehension as the winds only increased their fervor.

Your addled mind flashed on your earlier nightmare, wincing at the nearly clairvoyant similarity. It seemed that one minute you couldn’t wait to stay, and now both of you were desperate to somehow find a way out. “Sounds like YOU might be the one who’s leaving me” you pouted, finally willing to confront the REAL nightmare that neither of you had addressed. Pike sighed heavily, casting his eyes to the floor in disappointment.

“Look, about that…” he began as you stood to your feet unsteadily, trying to even the playing field.

“Why in the world didn’t you say so, Agent Pike?” you teetered precariously as the room seemed to shift diagonally, bracing a hand against the couch for assistance. “How could you let me think…or why didn’t you…” realizing that once again you were at a loss for words. Why was it so hard for you to connect the dots? The pandemic had deprived you of human connection, communication…LOVE! Your life felt like it was in shambles, separate and alone, and Pike’s permanent departure was just one more example of that. Even in a blizzard you couldn’t get anyone to stay!

“Agent Pike? Are we using our Christian names now?” Marcus teased, attempting to lighten the mood after the adrenaline infused hijinks.

“Come on, I’m serious! I feel terrible for making assumptions about…you…and me…or us…or Donna Reed…” you trailed off, stumbling around the room slightly trying to assemble your thoughts cohesively.

“Hey, maybe you should sit down” Pike cautioned, extending a hand and beginning to follow you around the room tentatively. “Please, let me explain, I WANT to explain. When you kissed me last night…”…

“This is SO typical of me” you rambled, pacing in circles as the blizzard howled around you outside. “I finally become the hero of my own story and I can’t even land the guy for heaven sakes!” you protested, unzipping your snowsuit a bit further in the warmth of the fireplace. “I have main character energy!” you shouted as Pike nodded affirmatively “MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY!” you repeated, rubbing at your temples confusedly.

“You do!” Pike encouraged, following along behind you like a woebegone puppy, his hand placed gently at your back to ensure you didn’t fall over. “VERY Kate Winslet!” he supported, moving the small side table out of your way so you didn’t trip over it.

“And the moment I take matters into my own hands…” you whirled in place, gripping Pike by the collar and shaking him emphatically, “you slip right from my grasp!” you collapsed your hips against his, looking up into those glowing, chocolate-colored orbs of light.

“I’m here! You’ve got me” he rasped, holding you at the waist and inching his face closer to yours imploringly.

“No I don’t!” you huffed, beginning your pacing again with Pike in tow. “Now you’re headed off to Washington D.C, and our perfect Christmas is RUINED!” you emphasized for greater effect. “I don’t even have a gift for you! And whyyyy didn’t you tell me?” you whined falling back against Pike’s chest dramatically and slumping slightly against him. Pike propped you up by your elbow, gripping you around the waist supportively.

“Will you please sit down? Something feels off….I’m feeling off” Pike was trying to make sense of everything, but it was difficult with this splitting headache. Had the lack of sleep finally caught up with him? He didn’t even have any Merlot last night, why was everything so distorted?

You pushed away from him, swaying haphazardly in confusion. Now there were…TWO Pikes standing in front of you. Oh well, now you could TWICE as mad! The cabin groaned forcefully as the room seemed to lurch forward and back. “You know, I could really like…BOTH of you if you’d just give me a chance!” you tried to point an accusatory finger at the pair of them as Pike’s image blurred before you.

“I want to! I want more! I want YOU but…GEEZ…my head in pounding right now. Do you have a headache, too?” the Pikes curiously questioned, reaching back to steady themselves at the fireplace hearth and pinching the bridge of their noses with fatigue.

“I ought to after this nightmare!” you unzipped your snow suit all the way to your waist revealing your sparkling pink bra and fanning your face heatedly. Why the hell was it always so hot?

A dull cracking sound echoed outside as a heavy branch split through the living room window blasting an icy gale of wind through the epicenter of your conversation. Pike shielded his eyes, staggering towards you, grabbing you by waist and pulling you in.

“Careful Pink! Are you okay?” Pike shouted over the din of chaos, bringing both hands to the sides of your face and looking into the dazed expression that was mirrored back.

“I don’t feel so good…” you mumbled, your knees buckling beneath you, crumpling to the ground as Pike cradled your body to the floor. Shielding you against the wind he drew his fingers lightly across your forehead, trying to clear strands of hair away from your eyes. The two Marcus’ coalesced into one image that flickered before you like a dimming television screen before separating again into mirage like images of apprehension.

“Pink? Pink….?” his voice began to distance itself into the dull recesses of your mind as a high pitched whine moved towards the forefront. You reached up to touch his lips tenderly.

“Merry Christmas…” you droned, feeling your body simultaneously feather light and anvil heavy, wishing you had the strength to kiss him once again.

“Stay with me, Pink…” Pike’s voice vanished into an echoing chasm while your thoughts muted to a single pin prick of enlightenment.

What a beautiful nightmare, you mused…before the entire world went dark.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!