Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Baseball Game

The sun was setting, casting long shadows as the sun lingered behind the trees framing the baseball field in the crisp spring air. Parents sat, bundled up on the metal bleachers, determination evident on their faces as they bore through the weather waiting out the end of the baseball game.

Gary sat, foot tapping against the metal seat beneath him pulling the collar of his jacket up once more before glancing side to side for what was seemingly the millionth time. Logan, who was restless as ever, refused to sit still and insisting on wandering about. Pacing side to side on the cement patch spacing the foot of the bleachers to the metal fencing blocked the potential head injuries that came with a well-placed foul ball. 

There had already been a foul ball incident taking out a windshield.

The sun, giving out its last attempts to blast the landscape with a few more splotches of warm sunlight as it passed through the thick walls of evergreen trees casting a warm golden glow over the field, illuminating the green grass and the dusty infield. The shadows grew longer and longer, stretching out across the field as the game continued. As if they were hands outstretching grasping at the feet of the children racing from base to base. 

Grasping for their feet trying to drag them down.

Gary quickly dismissed that train of thought, blinking and bringing himself present once more. A nudge to his side caused his head to snap over and look to Simon. Maybe parenthood was the balm that softened the shell- not that he would ever admit it to the world. It suited him well, enjoying the cheering of surrounding parents as their kids tinked the baseballs against their bats and ran as hard and as fast as they could. Scraped knees and dirty pants like trophies for them to bring home.

They’d never complain at how easily they’d be put to bed afterward, the exhaustion washing over in waves after a quick dinner and a tuck into bed.

It wasn’t exactly Simon or Johnny’s idea to put Gavan into baseball (Teeball? Whatever it was at the kid's age level, Gary never follow sports that closely). It was Keegan- the argument being they’d missed the signup period for Soccer and it was a great way to get him introduced to sports- he’d played it when he was younger. Logan was too young to play, as much as he’d try to run out into the backyard when Keegan gave Johnny and Gavan a crash course into baseball. Buying mitts and bats and an entire bucket of baseballs.

Their daughter outright refused, gymnastics was her primary focus. The ultimate spitfire of an attitude on Keegan and Gary’s personalities. She’d gone off to spend the weekend at a friend's house, another little girl who did gymnastics, apparently their parents had installed a trampoline in the back yard and she’d just figured out how to do a backflip. His lips quirk up for a moment remembering the terror in Keegan's voice as he pulled Gary into their bedroom and listed the copious numbers of injured that could be acquired from a trampoline accident.

He’d given him a kiss and dismissed their worries.

Let the kid have fun, it’s a part of growing up.

Scraped knees, a broken wrist, fun in the sun.

Gary could see the joy in Keegan's eyes tossing the ball, underhand to little Gavan with a determined look plastered on his face. Ball connects with the bat and flies out into the backfield, right up against the tree line. Gavan cheered, running up to his father and being lifted up, back against the bright blue sky and an excited tinge of pink on his cheeks. 

He leaned against the window, watching as Keegan lingered near the treeline just for a moment, holding the ball in his hand as he stared off deep into the woods.

Deep into the shadow of that tree.

A pair of Keegan’s socks with little pikachu’s on them.

“Gavan’s up to bat.” Simon said, breaking Gary out of his train of thought, just for a moment, before his eyes lock onto Gavan and he’s sucked right back in.

He wakes in the middle of the night, and for one brief second, he forgets. Then he registers the scent of Sarah and Simon and not Keegan and he remembers. The icy shock runs through him so fast, how could he forget? Carefully, so fucking carefully because if anyone looks at him right now he’ll fucking explode, he climbs out of the nest and stumbles to the nursery. He hits his hands and knees in front of it and just stares at Gavan.

He’s asleep, peaceful and soft and alive and Roach breaks again, crying as quietly as he can. It’s not quiet enough and Gavan stirs, face starting to crumple and Roach moves. He gets the pup up and into his arms as quickly but as gently as he can, tucking him to his chest and rocking just like Simon taught him. He drops his head down to complete the circle and breathes in as deep as he can. Letting the scent soothe his aching heart. Gavan doesn’t cry, just makes a gurgling noise of contentment and falls back asleep. 

Gavan carried the bat, a determined look on his face as he took position up on the home plate. Johnny stared back at him with a smile from ear to ear. The coach pitched for the young boys, and Keegan talking Johnny into becoming a coach even though he knew nothing about baseball (in Keegan's defense, no one cared about the rules and regulations of the game. Keegan sat in the outfield half the time getting the kids to stand and stop picking the daisies from the field.) 

Pitching the ball slowly, underhand, and out to Gavan the young boy swung, hard. The first swing was missing, the light whoosh sound of the bat pushing through the air and falling limp next to his side. Quickly ushering himself back into his batting stance, preparing to hit again.

“It’s ok Gavan, just like at home!” Johnny called out to him. Gavan nodded, the motion causing his batter's helmet to droop over his eyes- his little hands reaching up and pushing the helmet back into place before preparing to hit again. 

The second time, the ball connected with the bat. Sending the ball screaming up into the air and right into the bright stones of light from the sun. Blinding anyone who dared to follow its path in the air. 

“Run!” Everyone yelled together, cheering on Gavan as it finally clicked. Tossing his bat to the side and running as fast as he could. Children tumbling over the ball and tossing it short twice. The second his foot reached the first base it was Keegan who swung his arm outward, urging him to continue to second base. The look of focus on the little boy's face, nose slightly scrunches and eyes narrowed on that second base as his little legs carried him. Feet were finally planted down on the second base before the ball finally ended up in the opposing team's hand. 

Simon cheered, standing up and eyes meeting with Johnny as Gavan stood proudly on second base. Their glances only lingered for a moment before the next child made his way out to the base, bat in hand ready to swing with all their might.

~

Elle sat, back and leaned up against the empty bench behind her. Arms crossed against her chest as she watched her nephew sit in the outfield picking at the flowers blooming in the field’s grass. Hand mindlessly dipped into the bag of chips sitting in her lap and snacking as she waited for the time to tick down for the game to end. To take her cold little nephew back to her Aunt’s, drop him off, and head back to her parents and crash for the night.

She groaned, realizing that yes, it would be nice to just crash, but there were still assignments that had to be done and submitted that night. There would be no early crashing, much to her dismay. Her nephew wasn’t a common occurrence in her life, something about her Aunt deciding last minute she needed to go out, and have some alone time with her husband. 

Probably meant she’d be getting another little demon soon.

The sound of little feet caused her to look up from her phone and down to the little boy scampering away from his side of the bleachers- the guest team’s bleachers and over to the home team's side. Eyes followed him intently waiting to see if he’d run back towards the street or would stay in a safe spot.

It wasn’t her kid, but she’d get up and grab him if he went for the street.

She wasn’t heartless.

Kind of.

The child must’ve felt the eyes on the back of his curly head. Turning and glancing up at her, giving a tiny toothy smile and running towards her. Her eyebrow raised slightly, watching as the child climbed up the steps of the bleachers on his hands and feet and plopped himself down next to her. The feeling of the dying evening sun on her face, sunglasses still necessary by the squint on the child’s face as he stared out into the field and watched.

As if he knew what was going on.

She didn’t want to seem like a creep, and it was very unlikely that she would, she just didn’t know the other parents. Opting to sit by herself on the end of the bench as if there were a line split down the middle segregating the ‘real parents’ from the substitute ride home.

The toddler looked up at her with big, bright eyes and a toothy grin, reaching out to touch her hand, either reaching for the bag of chips as she held one between her teeth or continued staring at the game, not glancing over at him.

It was like a game, Elle would keep her head facing toward the field as if she didn’t notice the child plop himself down next to her and kick his legs slightly. Not so subtly scooting closer to him, and if she dared to glance down at him he would simply turn his head away.

Some weird, convoluted game of peekabo. 

Part of her wanted to laugh, scoop the little bastard up in her arms and go dump him off at his parent's feet and go back to scrolling on her phone, alone, waiting for the game to end. But, something stopped her. The little fidget of his fingers and his kicking feet as he excitedly scooched closer to her. Making a game of it to see how close he could get to this unknown woman.

She joked to herself, if he did this to everyone she’s surprised he hadn’t been kidnapped yet.

“Hello.” The little voice said, his tiny little hand reaching around and grabbing her thigh before leaning completely into her space. Head a few inches from her face.

She stared, confused for a moment at the sudden intrusion before replying. “Hello.” The amusement was evident in the tone of her voice as she tried to keep a calm composure with the little child crawling on her. “What’s your name?” Elle asked.

“Lo…” He paused for a moment before bashfully looking away, turning and sitting down next to her once more and looking up. “Logan.”

“That’s a nice name, Logan.” She replied, leaning back in her seat and eating another chip from the bag. Keeping her head forward but watching from her peripheral as Logan's eyes followed the chip from the bag to her mouth. “You here watching a friend? Maybe your brother plays baseball?” 

Logan nods, happily. “Gavan!”

“Watching Gavan, well there ya go.” She agrees, watching as her nephew is lightly chastised by the other team's coach to get out of the daisies and at least stand up to try and catch a ball. 

Not much was said after that moment, the two of them sitting in a content quiet watching the game finish up. Elle glanced at the kid from the corner of her eye, before sighing and leaning the bag of chips down and over to him, keeping her head focused on the game in front of them. Logan’s reaction was comical, eyes squinted from the remnants of the setting sun, mimicking Elle and keeping his eyes focused on the game. Glancing down as the bag was lowered to him, reaching his small hand into the bag and pulling out a fistful of chips.

The coach’s kid on the opposite team went up to bat, Logan inching forward on his seat excitedly before cheering “Go Gavan!”, his shrill little voice cheering him on as the older boy tore off. Legs carrying him to second base with a flurry of cheers and disappointed groans from the outfielder's parents as their kids painfully fumbled over the ball.

It was right after Gavan finished his run that Gary noticed Logan wasn’t in his direct sightline. A quick wave a panic rose up in his gut to his throat before he glances left to right, scanning under the bleacher behind him quickly before looking over to Simon who must’ve sensed the panic that snipped off of him.

“Where’s Logan?” Gary asked, standing up and looking behind him fully to see if Logan had ended up in the field behind him to sit in the flowers-

Simon leaned forward, eyes scanning around before landing on the opposing side’s bleachers. “Over there.” He replied, voice a little clipped so as not to add to Gary’s (very blatant) panic.

“Where-?” He turns, eyes following Simon’s sightline, and sees Logan sitting next to a young woman on the bleachers, both of them with some semblance of a serious face intently watching the game. Every once and a while the woman would lean the bag down, sharing the chips with Logan who would happily cram his little arm in and pull a handful out to munch on.

Once the panic subsided- Gary couldn’t help but worry that Logan would be ruining his appetite for dinner.

“Who is that?” Gary asked, already making his way down to go fetch the boy.

Simon's hand rested on Gary’s shoulder, causing him to stop and glance back giving him a confused glance. “Why go get him? When was the last time you saw that kid sit still? And look at ‘im.” He motions, and Gary's eyes follow.

His chest felt tight at the scene. 

Logan’s curly hair, eyes squinting from the sun as he leaned more into the woman's side. Every once and a while his mouth would open, finger pointing out to something on the field, and she would nod or respond. Sitting calmly, a direct contrast to the squirming and writhing mess Loagn would be the majority of the time forced to sit at Roach’s side.

Simon turns, leaning over to pull up the blanket and check on Tommy in the baby carrier next to him. Looking at the sleeping peaceful face and dopping the cover once more.

But it was how much she looked like Logan, the nose, the skin, the hair .

He knew it wasn’t realistic. But it still bubbled up in the back of his brain inside his subconscious, even if it wasn’t realistic within the timeline or fair to be thinking of that now.

They looked a little like siblings.

A big sister.

“I think- I think I wanted them to be a girl. But I would have been happy either way.”

“Maybe he’s found himself a girlfriend.” Gary jokes, breaking himself from his train of thought and sitting back down, eyes glancing over to check on the boy every once and a while. Always found him in the same place, sitting next to her, munching or rambling or just leaning against her. 

Simon snorts, the amusement flickering on his face and he gives them another glance. “Haven't seen her at the games before, maybe a relative of the other team.” He replied. Gary knew deep down the second Simon laid eyes on her he’d be analyzing, potential threats, what kid she looked like, who she would be connected to on the field, and if she belonged there.

All Gary could think about is that her light brown hair nearly matched Logan's.

The game had finished, Elle sitting back and dreading the feeling of being so close, but so far away as the teams gathered in their little huddles. She stood, Logan, standing along with her as she glanced around trying to find his parents. “Where’re your parents, little dude?” She asked.

“Daddy!” Logan yelled, running across the cement and weaving through the people before running into Gary’s arms, who lifted him and walked up to her. “I hope he wasn’t a bother- he actually sat with you.” Gary said, starting the conversation hopefully on the right foot.

“Oh, not at all. He just kinda hung out ya know?” Ella laughed a little bit. “Big fan of the onion chips you are.” She nods to Logan, who grins and lets out a “yeaaaaaa!” as a response.

Gary stills, lips curling in amusement at Logan’s response. “I’m Gary, I didn’t catch your name.” He adds.

“Elle. Cute kid ya got, Bet he could be a sports commentator.” She adds a little bit of exhaustion at the tail end of her tone.

Logan was in a rambling phase. Came with the newfound ability of people being able to semi-understand his babbling. Gary laughs, leaning forward and swinging Logan on her shoulder who is squealing in happiness at his movements. 

“Elle! Let’s go! I need to poop!” A little boy stomps out from the dugout, bag on his back as he reaches for her hand and tugs her away. She turns, and gives a sheepish wave before grabbing her keys and leading her nephew to her car.

A few minutes after Elle left, Keegan found his way to Gary’s side, plucking Logan off of his shoulders and holding him in his arm like a duffel bag. “Hi Darlin’.” He leans over, kissing Gary’s temple and wrapping an arm around him. Gary leans into his touch, nose tucked into the seam of his neckline and inhaling. “Who was that Logan was with the last part of the game?” He asks.

“Elle!” Logan screeches from beneath them, kicking his legs and rowing his arms in Keegan's hold. Gary looks down at him, then back up to Keegan. “Yea, Elle. Didn’t get a last name… Logan just made himself a buddy. Didn’t you Logan?” Logan lets out a bashful laugh, tucking his face into Keegan's pant leg and giggling.

Keegan leans in and whispers. “He didn’t move. For more than thirty minutes.” He emphasizes. “I know,” Gary adds. “I hope I see her again- I wonder if she babysits?” Keegan looks a little nervous at the mention of a babysitter- they both have been. It was always the argument that they’d have each other to help take care of, but as they got busier with the older kids' sports, they commonly found themselves dragging Logan along kicking and squealing as he couldn’t keep still to baseball games.

Gary couldn’t remember the last time Logan had sat, and stayed. 

It wasn’t that they couldn’t have outside help-

Gary couldn’t remember the last time he truly had a night alone with Keegan.

What was her name again?

~

Photo Day

It was 7am, and Elle stood in the field dragging a cart holding sandbags to plop onto the feet of the tripods holding up the assorted lights for the kid’s baseball photos day. Sleep in her eyes, sweatshirt strings pulled tight around her neck as she blinked hard a few times to try and wake herself up before she accidentally knocked over a expensive light or tripped.

The grass in the field was saturated with morning dew, the sky cloudy and grey as the morning fought off the night. A light fog in the distance that made the glow of the streetlamps seem that much more yellow. The squeak of the cart every other rotation on the front left wheel.

Sqqeeeeaaakkk,

Sqqeeeeaaakkk,

Sqqeeeeaaakkk.

She stopped, resting her hands on her hips and pursing her lips as she stared at the setups, sighing. Helping out the photographer, making some pocket cash. It is what is is, and she’s always happy to help, but there is only so much you can do to contain the dread of dealing with squirmy snotty childred all day doing their photos for their parents picture packets.

Lunch already sounded good.

“Why would they have the boys take their pictures after a baseball game.” Simon groaned, leaning against the oh so familiar bleacher that occupied their weekends more and more.

Gary shrugged, intent with watching Keegan in the outfield, enjoying the sun poking through the clouds and the light breeze. “I think Gavan will be fine, and if he gets some grass stains it just makes the pictures more authentic right?” He gives an amused noise thinking of the boys intentionally sliding to their bases, rolling in the dirt to make their pictures more ‘realistic’.

“Alright guys, I need you all to line up tallest to shortest. Can you do that for me?” Elle calls out to the team of little league players in front of her. The boys eagerly nod, fighting over who is the tallest and sorting themselves out into their categories. “Let’s file in for your group photo alright? Make sure to smile!” And with that, Elle was off to prep the next team. Walking up to the familiar orange and navy uniforms. Accepting paperwork and starting to process of sorting the sweaty post-game boys into line from their numbers.

“Check your pants, make sure they are tucked it. Make sure your shoes are tied and you pant legs are uneven.” She runs through the motions, making sure the kids hats are evn when they go up to pose, that their bats are uneven and that they aren’t holding the baseball in their hands a weird way.

It took the average fifteen minutes to get through the entire team before sorting them up for their team photo, which proved to be disastrous.

Simon stood, eyes narrowed at a piece of paper circling the correct boxes and letting out a huff of irritation at the pen that would not write correctly before glaring at Johnny, handing the man the paper and grabbing Tommy and walking off to the shaded area at the edge of the team photo area. Maybe it was for the best, the one vein in his neck that strained when the man was about to pop was jutting out of the side of his neck- Johnny accepting the paper, a bewildered look in his eyes as he looks down and sees the multiple spots nearly worn through the paper where the pen kept running out of ink and Simon pressing harder . 

Keegan was rousting the team together, trying to sort them from shortest to tallest. “Are you coach?” Elle asked, walking up to him holding a clipboard. Keegan straighted up, taking a step over and nodding “Yes I am, well, one of em’ what can I help you with?”

Elle smiles, before walking him through the necessary paperwork, getting his phone number if there were any questions about the kids names or if there were any issues with the photos. The kids in the background shifting around restlessly. Fidgeting with themselves and tugging on their friends shirts teasingly. Protests from kids and the laughter and snickers before Elle turned around, eyes locking on the one kid who’d been causing the most trouble in the group.

Steven, the child, standing completely out of line once again with his hat askew, shirt untucked, and sunglasses a little out of sort with his hands outstretched tugging on another kids hat. 

“ Hey. ” Elle snapped, the sound of her voice silencing all of the kids and gathering their attention “This is the second time I’ve asked you to stop messing with your friends and get in line for your photo. If I catch you out of sorts again I’m gonna cut your ears off . Got it?” She smiles at the end, a toothy, carefree smile that would seem like she’d just offered the kids ice cream after a good game.

Keegans eyes narrow on Elle for a moment, quickly looking at Gavin who was fine, but eyes as wide as saucers just like the rest of the team who’d immediately clammed up staring up at the young woman. The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smirk before finishing up writing his phone number down on the sheet and dropping the clipboard to his side.

“Yes M’am!” The team yelled collectively, standing near perfect in line, shirts tucked in and hats fixed.

Elle smiled, taking a step back before formatting them together for their group photo. “Good! Now let’s get this knocked out shall we?”

Gary could smell the irritation radiating off of Simon from across the baseball field, lifting Logan up onto his side and approaching the other man. “You ok?” He asked cautiously, peeking over at Tommy who was cooing back up to Simon.

“Much better.” He grunted out, looking over to Gary for a second then over at the boys arranged and posing for their photo. Keegan and John standing proudly on opposing sides of the team. John’s hand resting on Gavans shoulder while he smiles. 

“They look good.” Gary adds looking at Keegan.

“When do they not?” Simon chided.

“Remember that night after we all went to the casino when we left the kids with Kate? We looked-” Gary started, a grin plastered on his face as the little look of horror on Simon’s face for a moment remember just how horrible that morning looked and felt.

He couldn’t be around peppermint for a month without dry heaving.

“Elle!” Logan yelled, wiggling his way out of Gary’s hold and down onto the ground. Tugging on Gary’s pant leg and pulling on it. Pointing to the same brunette woman from the game. “Elle!” He yelled again.

Gary’s head turned, shoulders moving with the rest of his body as he spun to look at the familiar woman herding children together and handing out clipboards of paperwork. “It is, isn’t it?” Gary asked, aloud. 

“You going to ask her to babysit?” Simon asked, rocking Tommy in his arms and raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know…” Gary frowned, leaning back on his heel. “It’s hard. And we have you guys.”

“Johnny and I will be leaving in a few weeks to go visit his family again… It might be time to open up.” Simon replies, eyes narrowed forward on the children running rampant in the field.

Gary snorts, audibly, loudly, and lets out a laugh. “This, coming from you?” He chuckles, before taking a deep breath and sighing. Simon was right- and he could swing the argument that he has hired a babysitter before. As much of a struggle was to beguin with- but Simon could sympathise. The initial fear of ever leaving the little bundle of joy with someone other than immediate family a daunting step in their parenthood journey. Shoulders shrugging forward. “I know…. And it would be so nice to have some alone time.” 

“Seems like a good kid.” Simon added. 

“How do you know that?” Gary asked.

“Look how she ‘andles the kids.” He nodded forward, watching as Elle ushered the kids about, gently adjusting their hands, helping them tie shoes and tuck in shirts. 

Logan started running toward her, Gary following behind with long strides Simon mimicked in much smaller steps.

“Guys, get your fingers out of your noses.” Elle groaned, back to the approaching men, resting her hands on her hips and letting them organize themselves.

“Elle!” Logan runs forward, arms reaching out and grabbing onto her pantleg and slapping at her thighs. The action must’ve spooked her, because she took a bewildered step back before registering who the kid was and lifting him up from both of his armpits. “Logan!” She replies, holding him up with both of her arms extended. Turning and seeing Gary approaching, Simon trailing behind him. “Ok you’re actually heavy.” She sets him down, looking up at the approaching parents.

“Gary… Right?” Elle asked, tilting her head a little.

“Yea- this is Simon.” He introduces the pair. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. MacTavish.” Elle nods, turning to Gary.

Simon tries not to show just how much that made his heart soar- even now all these years later. The sound of it out loud- made pink tinge on his cheeks. 

 “Is everything alright? Any issues with the picture packets?”

“Well actually, I don’t have an issue. More of a question.” Gary starts. “ Do you babysit ?”

~

Dog leash

This year, they remembered to sign the kids up for soccer- Lily and Gavan playing on different age levels so their day was confirmed and booked full of Soccer, one game to the next. Their day would be full on sunshine, happy screaming and maybe the occasional ball aimed for a watching parents face at an extra excited kick. 

Soccer had been more more John’s speed than Keegan- which inevitably flipped the roles between the two. Keegan looking confused and lost for the first week and a half, Gary coming home and finding a book all about Soccer on his nightstand next to his reading glasses.

“Logan’s coming?” Simon asks, leaning over and passing a bottle to Gary who is holding Tommy. Grabbing the babys feel and playing with the little toes. The babbling squeals of joy coming from the baby in Gary’s lap almost hold all of his focus- zoning in on the wide blue eyes and the wriggly little toes his fingers are wrapped around.

“I’m not sure, he’s being going through a phase-” Gary starts, leaning his head back and groaning.

Lily? She was a dream. An angel. The perfect well behaving child.

Logan?

Well, right now Logan was going through a phase.

“He’s running.” Simon comments. Gary groans, oncemore, a dry laugh leaving his throat into the warm air. “Like nobodies business.” He agrees. “He’s with Elle right now- it’s up to her on if he is going to come or not today, either way.”

“He sure likes that girl.” Simon muses, grabbing Tommy from him and leaning back in his chair. Gary’s lips split into a smile. “Jealous? I know your babysitter just left for college.”

“Only a little.” Simon replies, turning to look at him and smiling back.

Across the fields, into the parking lot of the park Elle is pulling Logan from his carseat, him cheering and squirming, rambling about how excited he is to watch his sister play soccer. Or, the ‘Ball foot’ he’d been calling it for the last few days. “Alright little dude.” Elle leans over, grabbing a dog leash from next to the carseat and hooks it to the back of Logans jeans. “Remember, this is because you bolted in the grocery store.” 

“Yeaaa!” Logan claps his hands, doing a little spin and grabbing hold of the leash. “Woof Woof!” And at that, Elle has to physically lean over and grab the hood of her car so that he dosent fall to the ground laughing. She’s sure Gary’s going to pop a blood vessel at Logan barking while wearing a leash- can’t really find the space to care because she knows as long as the kid is safe and happy that’s all they care about.

“Alright, come on Logan let’s go.” Lifting two fold out chairs and a bag filled to the brim, named the ‘Loagn’s Shitbag’ because of the sheer quantity of things one person would need to take care of the kid, within reason, putting the cat in the bag was not on her agenda. 

Keegans heading back from the snack bar, carrying two cold waters and a icepack for a kid that got bopped in the head. Handing the Ice pack to John and turning to leave and give Gary the cold water when he hears the shrill, happy shreik of Logan calling out to him. He turns, only to see his kid running towards him- preps and kicks one leg back because when Logan hits he hits like a truck on his knees. Only to be pleasantly surprised when his adorable little son dosen’t crack into his knee like normal. Actually, he’s moving at a much slower pace. “Daddy!” Logans really working for it, leaning forward and pumping his arms, but he isn’t gaining ground. Elle popping out from the side and seeing something tethered and oh my God is that a dog leash ?

Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

John’s eyes follow and catch on the leash, immediately keeling over, hands on knees belly laughing at the sight of it.

Elle gives a courteous wave, heading over to Gary and Simon and setting up the chairs, Gary standing up out of his seat and damn near wailing that she has him hooked up to a dog leash.

“You couldn’t of gotten the- the backpacks? The ones meant for kids?” He’s defensive, he’s trying to hold back laughter, and everyone arround is cackling because they know how much of a little terror he is. 

“Why, I had a dog leash.” Elle replies, popping out the chair and sitting down, hand still wrapped around the hole in the dog leash and keeping Logan within arms reach, running around in circles.

“My son is not a dog!” Gary puffs up again.

“Woof Woof!” Logan peeps up, and Simon breaks at that point, leaning back and calling to the young boy. “Logan, Sit.” The kid instantly dropping onto his ass and looking not to Simon- but at Elle expectantly. 

“Oh.” She mumbles, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a pouch of M&M’s, tossing a singular red one into Logans mouth. “Good boy.” She jokingly replies, turning to meet Gary’s look of absolute terror . 

She akwardly laughs, rubbing her arm. “He can shake too?” 

~ 

Hunting trip

“Alright Logan. I have to go to the store now- your parents are back home.”

“But-” Logan turns, giving the biggest puppy dog eyes, even quivering his lip. Truly pathetic- bust she steeled herself. These tricks wouldn’t work on her anymore.

“I have to go buy a hunting license.” She explains, kneeling down and holding Logan's shoulders in her hands. 

“What’s what?” Logan asked, leaning forward and pulling her into a hug. She laughs, hugging back and picking him up, and tossing him onto the couch, giggles erupt from the little boy's chest as he is tossed back onto the soft cushions. “It’s a piece of paper I pay too much money for to go sit in a tree for a week and catch nothing.”

“That’s stupid. Logan states, arms crossing as he purses his lips together in a pout.

She tries to hold back a laugh, barely scolding him for the brash language, and heading to the kitchen to grab her keys and wallet from the counter. Keegan sorting groceries into the fridge as she gets ready to leave. 

“Logan already ate before you guys got home- just a PBJ but he was getting antsy so I caved. Sorry if I spoiled his dinner appetite.” She explains, awkwardly fidgeting with the keys as he stood.

Keegan was a man of very, very few words. Especially with her- not that he was ever rude, no. Far from it. He’d become something of a surrogate father in the time she’d known him. Helping with oil changes on her first car, glaring down a boyfriend she’d had if they ever met in public.

But he never said much.

“That’s alright, as long as he eats that’s all I care about.” He replied. “You’re getting a tag? What for?”

She blinked, the times she had spoken to Keegan, this ranked as probably one of the top thirty strings of words the man had ever said to her. “Yea… Upland game. I was hoping to get out with one of my cousins if he comes back from college. So I’m just kind of playing the waiting game because I don’t want to go alone.” There was an awkward twinge added into the air, Elle shifting back and forth on her feet restlessly and bringing her hand into her own to fidget with the skin around her thumb.

“I could take you.” He said simply.

“You would?” She questioned.

“Sure. I’d need to get a tag too, but I’ll take you.” He nods.

“You hunt?” She asked, still confused.

“Yea, how about I drive us down and I’ll get us both tags and licensing.” Keegan states, before closing the fridge door- she forgot that they’d been standing there with the fridge door wide open the whole time. Elle stands there, a little like a deer in the headlights as he excuses himself to go tell Gary he’d quickly be heading out and would be back in a few. That’d Elle would be coming with. He gave him a weird look, only for a moment before dismissing it with a nod. Following Keegan back out into the living room and sitting down with Logan. 

The little bell rung overhead as the door to the shop was pushed open. The room smelled of dust and gun oil- a twang of some musty smell that must’ve been radiating off of the taxadermied animals assorted across the building. So many deer heads mounted onto the walls ledges- a turkey with with its wings expanded and leg propped up on a rock.

In her opinion, the place stunk. The kind of stink that reminded you of cigarettes and your grandpas garage. The stink of gun oil and the tinking of little boxes of ammo. The shelves behind the glass display cases lined with rifles across the entire shop- all colors and sizes.

“Mornin’ can I help you folks?” An old man appeared, pushing out from behind a curtain in the back and up behind the glass case.

“Tags n’ licensing for the season.” Keegan, taking the lead ahead of her and meeting the man up at the front. Exchanging information and handing over his drivers licenses when needed, her doing the same. The exchange not new- but a distinct lack of distasteful looks or ‘forgot my wallet’ bullshit that always seemed for follow her in the past.

“Nothin better than goin out huntin with yer’ Dad.” The old clerk added, old, leathery wrinkled hands tapping single digits into the register. Eyes squinting as the computer screen flashed with prompts it took him too long to read and then typee. Elle shuffled awkwardly, taking a step back and looking at Keegan before quickly looking away. He’d pulled out his wallet, fishing out a few hundred dollars in cash and setting it down on the register.

“He’s not my Dad.” Elle said quickly. “Family friend.” She added onto the statement, trying to avoid looking back at the man behind her. She hated herself for this- getting antsy and awkward over a simple fact.

He wasn’t blood.

She was just the babysitter and this was probably some kind of courtesy because he felt bad for her.

The cashier gave her a odd glance, before shrugging and letting out a grumble in understanding. The ding of the register, grabbing the cash off of the counter and printing out the tags and handing them to the two.

“Have a good season you two!” 

~

“You’re going hunting?” Gary asks, leaning forward and draping across Keegans back. Nose diving into his hair and inhaling, body relaxing and covering him with his radiating warmth.

“Yea, I’m going to take her out for a few days- hopefully catch something.” He nods, a pair of glasses resting on his face as he reads an old map he pulled out of his closet. He’d mapped out a bunch of places he had wanted to go out and explore when they first moved here. Either to go out hiking- to go out hunting, a journey out under the stars.

They never ended up going to the places marked down on that piece of paper, stuffed into a box in the closet and forgotten about.

‘You’ll be careful?” It’s a dumb question- of course he will be careful. But it’s more of a test- to find the right background on why Keegan was doing it. Gary knew the man had taken a liking to the babysitter- the viewed her at family at this point. Even with how against it he was in the first place to even consider an outsider, they’d bonded even through their limited exposure to eachother. She took care of what they loved most, and cared for them like they were her own family. And in doing so, found her place in a second home with a second family.

“Of course, darlin’.” He turns, kissing Gary on the cheek and pulling him into a side hug, leaning his head into his chest. A laugh rumbling into his shirt. “Always thought it’d be Lily I’d be taking with me.”

It was a sore spot.

Lily being a vegetarian wasn’t the issue- no, they had no qualm with her choice. It was just the day Keegan sat down next to her and asked the question- giddy and excited to take his daughter hunting with him. The age old coming of age trip that was a father and daughter- a first kill in the woods and bonding what lasts forever.

“I don’t want to kill an animal daddy, I don’t even eat them!”

Gary remembers just how much the man pouted- probably for a month after the fact, a sore topic to be brought up- but no ill will. Just the mild and totally irrational fear in the back of Keegans mind screaming that he wasn’t a good dad for doing the trip.

He was glad that Keegan had found a surrogate for the situation, even more proud of him for it being Elle- the one he’d been so hesitant to interact with for so long.

“Come to bed.” Gary complained, leaning back and feeling Keegans arms dig into his hips- holding him solid in place before finally giving in and moving the two of them three steps over from the desk and plopping him onto the bed.

“Anything for you.” Keegan smirked, climbing on top of the bed and getting that familiar glint in his eyes. “I’m gonna be gone for a few days… Gotta make sure you won’t miss me.”

Oh.

Maybe Keegan should go hunting more often.

It’s, as Keegan put it, the ‘ass crack of dawn’ when Elle rolls off of their couch and starts helping carry her rifle and duffle bag to Keegans truck. He’d already loaded up everything else by the time he had woken her up. Offering her to sleep for the majority of the time they took to drive up to the spot.

Said it would take all day basically- they’d get there by nightfall.

So she took him up on the offer. Rather than sitting only a few feet away from the man and smothering in an akward silence of ‘I don’t know what to say to you’, drifting off with her hand propped under her chin and head leaning against the window.

She wakes, dosen’t even know how much long later and there is nothing but fields, hills, trees, and crops. Nothing of any real importance around them. She sees a thick forest covering a mountain range in front- however many miles away the formations were and assumes that’s where shes going.

Dosen’t seem like a lot of deer would be out here in this.

But the silence is painful- she dosen’t know how long she awkwardly fidgets, back and forth. Tapping her fingers, then her foot, then bouncing her leg and trying to play I spy with herself with some of the most boring scenery she has ever experienced on a highway before.

“So….” She drawls out, tilting her head to the side and looking at him. “You go hunting a lot?”

He nearly laughs at the question- trying to think of the last time he was hunting. Not a person- but a animal. It was probably close to nine years ago, on a solo mission and he was damn near starving. Catching some of the local fauna and nearly devouring the meat raw because he was so hungry. Because he feared that smoke from a fire would compromise his location.

“Quite a while.” He replies, his responses are curt. Short. He dosen’t know how else to speak around her- dosen’t know enough about boundaries with her and would never forgive himself if he made her uncomfortable- especially out here, alone, and going on a hunting trip.

He’d rather chew through his leg like a dog and drag himself home.

“So you know how to shoot well? Like, with the scope.” She adds, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. He knows what she is trying to do- make conversation. Gary had teased him about it once, how painfully quiet the man could be especially when he was focusing on something like driving. Not that he minded the talk- it wasn’t that he didn’t want her to speak, it was that his brain was an angry wasp in a tin can and it kept dinking against the walls.

“I’d hope I knew how to aim a rifle Elle.” He laughs a little at the end. “But yes, I can shoot well-”

“Because you were in the military?”

Keegan hands another block of c4 to Soap and nods. “Cardinal is about to sing. Boom in 15, 14, 13-” he cuts the mic and moves back with Soap, to the little rocky outcropping just back from the gate. There's not been so much as a kitten fart from inside the center but they’re about to shake loose anything that’s in there.

His mental count hits three and Soap shifts the detonator in his hand. They duck at the same time and the sheer fucking volume of the explosion still pushes at him like a physical force. They look over the rock, immediately training rifles on the gaping hole. Nothing. Not a fucking thing. “Blackbird, this is Cardinal. We sang our hearts out and no one’s coming to tip. You got eyes on anything?”

Price shifts, thermal scope showing a whole lot of nothing. He looks at Gaz who shakes his head. “Cardinal your shows a bust. Nothing doing down there. Still. Move careful. Starling, what's your status?”

The explosion rumbles the ground, and he smiles, boys and their toys. Roach shifts the thermal paste back into his pocket, lighting the line he put on the door’s lock and watching it eat through the steel, quiet as a mouse.

“Starling is about to enter backstage, pushing-” he waits for Ghost’s nod and then rips open the door, letting Ghost enter first with his weapon raised. “Now.”

Keegan blinks, all but shaking his head and trying to shoo that train of thought out of his mind. “The best of the best.”He catches himself as a speak, the words almost coming out rough- croaking out of his throat. He speaks, grip of his hands tightening, impossibly so, more on the wheel.

“I’ve seen some of the photos in the house- of you guys all together in uniforms and stuff.” She explains. “Logan was obsessed with that one picture of uncle Johhny- the uh, the really fresh mohawk one? Thats when he went on the whole ‘spike my hair up’ kick.” 

Keegan groans. “The bare skin mohawk.” Everyone teased him for it- apparently it stemmed from a shaving accident. Opting to just shave it all off rather than salvage what he fucked up. 

Wasn’t MacTavish’s best look.

Elle laughs, it’s light and airy, like she was trying to fill as much air as possible with noise. 

“Have you- you’re familiar with hunting?” Keegan asks. He’s trying to establish a baseline- knows she must know some things. Just dosen’t know how much she knows.

“Yea. I’ve gone out a few times before, never caught anything though. It was usually just wander around the woods for a few hours and then go back and my dad would drink until he passed out on the dirt.” She vomits out all of those words, and Keegan has to sort through them even though the vomit is still warm an the bile is on his shoes. Pushes some of the theoretical vomit to the side and keeps the conversation going.

“That’s good, good aim?” He asked.

“Yea, used to do a lot of shooting cans… My cousin and I. But my cousin was always shooting the birds- extra points if he got a cardinal. I never really was one for that though, I don’t really like killing things without a reason.”

“Starling is finished with the lower floors, heading up to the security room, check your fire Cardinal, I don’t want to put our new medic to the test quite yet.” 

Keegan is kneeling, peeking a corner with Soap standing over him watching their back. “Cardinal is about to clear security, advise that we are wearing IR patches, and do not want to be shot in the ass.” Soap huffs a little laugh above him and then gestures. Keegan follows that sign, creeping through the hallway to the security door and posting up in front of it. Soap gives him a count down and opens the door on one. Keegan clears the room's corners first, slipping off to check the edges of the room while Soap does the same.

“Clear.” Soap calls back the same and they meet up in the center of the room at the console.

“Soap, get on those controls if you can, I’m getting the creeps.” Keegan drops to start going through the paper logs, where in the good goddamn did everyone go. There hasn’t been a single sign of anyone in the building so far, and apart from the mangled gate, the whole place is pristine.

Soap makes a choked off furious noise and Keegan pops up, coming around to look at the monitors. Oh. The feed from the server room is bloody. Most of the bodies have their wrists tied. Like someone took hostages and then didn't want to keep them. He calls for Price. And then looks at Soap. It’s his report.

Price is still watching the building, Gaz is sweeping the exits and fiddling with the relay he set up. “Blackbird, this is Cardinal, how copy?”

Keegan sounds flat. Tense. 

“Clean copy.” Price calls back, eyes focused on the corner of the building where that security room should be. There’s a second of hesitation before Soap comes on the radio. Soap sounds, pissed.

On the screen in front of Soap are their people. Hands bound, faces frozen in terror, throats slashed and sprays of bullet fire and blood across the walls. Whoever did this is a fucking monster.

“Someone didn’t want to host either, 7-0. We’ve got multiple KIA. All our guys.” He tries to keep his tone level, but the scene in front of him is brutal, animalistic. From on screen he counts 14 bodies, this outpost holds 20, so they’re still missing a few. Soap’s not sure if he hopes they’re dead or not, whoever did this wouldn’t treat hostages with any type of humanity.

“According to my count we’re missing half a dozen.” He flips through the rest of the cameras, everywhere else is just abandoned, like they all willingly filed into that room to die. “There’s no sign of struggle here at all, it’s like they went on their own.”

There’s drugs out there that can do that, like a smoke grenade or tear gas but modified for obedience. “I think we might have a problem. Gas masks on.” He grabs his from off his hip, pulling the plastic and rubber over his face and securing it tight. “Watcher-1, are we tracking any intel on obedience gas, missing or otherwise?”

Keegan’s danger sense dials back up to ten. Something is so severely wrong here. “Who authorized this mission?”

The Shadow gargles, possibly on his own blood. “General… Shepard.”

Keegan rams his knife into the man’s mouth right as the last sound leaves his mouth, pivots and tackles Soap, knocking them both back as far as he can. The body behind them explodes, making Keegan’s ears ring horribly. He rolls off of Soap and coughs into his mask. “Fuck. You whole Soap?”

Roach’s entire body goes completely numb as the explosion sounds in his ears and blows before his eyes. Ghost freezes next to him for half a second before popping on his mic. “Soap, Keegan, do you copy?” No answer. “Soap, Keegan, do you copy ?”

“Keegan?”

His head snaps over- nearly startling Elle. He glances in all of his mirrors- checking the surroundings before finally giving a side eye to Elle. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Can we swing by the next rest stop? I have to pee.”

He nods- cautiously. So fucking cautiously- as if any of his movements if too fast or sharp will send him back downward into a spiral of being back out on the field- dagger in hand and fresh blood splattered on his face.

He hadn’t really spoken about this to-

Well?

Anyone outside of the military.

It’s dark as they are pulling into camp. The area smells like the rotting leaves melting into the dirt, the damp smell of the forrest and crisp night air.

“I’ll get the fire going, how hungry are you?” He asks, already pulling a tote out of the back of the truck and walking towards a rock circle- a campfire- and starts knocking the loose leaves off of a overturned log before plopping down and cracking the tote open to start unpacking.

“Not super hungry.” She replies, moving over to a piece of firewood turned into a makeshift chair.

“You’re never hungry.” He jokingly comments.

“I am too.”

“You eat less than Logan does, and he is a toddler.”

“Why’d you join?”

The question knocks him off guard for a moment. Registering the words and thinking, processing the right way to phrase what he was going to say. He’s building a fire, putting the kindling down and placing another log on top of it. “It was the easiest way to get out, and get out and get far away.”

She nods, digging her toe into the dirt, building a small hump of mulchy soil in front of her boot. “Do you regret it?”

“Joining? No. I don’t.”

“Was it hard to come back?” She asks, the question so much deeper than Keegan was expecting- the mid-surface level questions going down under and sinking to the fucking floor.

Was it hard to come back?

Incredibly.

He still has a gun under the matress next to his head.

Still checks the window locks twice- wakes up instintually the same time every morning. Has such a hard time sleeping around unknown people, and when he does he sleeps light.

“No. It wasn’t hard. Not when I had the team- the pack with me.” He replied, sparking the fire and watching the pile of wood ignite into flames. 

“You were the best of the best- do you….” She pauses, frowning as if she was angry at herself for asking the question.

“If your wondering about enemies- they’re all dead. We made sure of that before we retired. Tied up the loose ends.”

He dosen’t mean for it to come out as cut and dry as it does- but there wasn’t really any reaso to sugarcoat it. It wasn’t like telling Logan his parents were superheroes and they made sure the bad guys would never get them- that he’d always protect them.

She nods, helping him unload the rest of the truck in silence.

~

She ejects the shell from her rifle, hands narrowly avoiding the hot brass ejecting and rolling off of the log and down onto the ground. 

“You’re shooting to the right.” Keegan states, stepping over and helping her adjust the scope of the rifle ever so slightly. “Make sure you keep both of your eyes open. And easy on the trigger- squeeze it until it surprises you.” He takes a step back, standing behind her and observing her posture and looking down the clearing to a can he’d propped up far enough for it to warrant a decent target.

She fires again, almost as if she trigger surprised her too much- a little jump as the firing of the rifle. He chose not to comment on it. Visibly sees how to bullet skims over the top of the can and knocks it back- but not knocking it over.

“Don’t think of it as a can. It’s a deer. You’re aiming for the lungs, you just hit it high.” His tone is calm, if anything a little endearing. He’s trying to keep a positive attitude and not talk to her like a sergeant. Makes his skin itch a little at the way she fumbles to put the bullet in the chamber because her hands are trembling.

“Ok.” It’s a meek little offer of her agreeing, trying again and keeping a positive attitude. She’d doing much better than he’d originally clocked her at, natural talent- or luck.

Keegan would like to think his verbal instructions are just that good.

She shoots, a final time, the bullet connecting with the can and throwing it off into a bush as it rips through it. She nearly drops the rifle, letting out some kind of happy noise from the back of her throat before turning and looking up at him expectantly.

“Knew you could do it- ya did great kid.” He praises, helping her pick up the shells scattered on the ground. “Let’s clean up here and then we can eat breakfast and head out, alright?” She nods, handing him her rifle and making her way down the clearing to find the can she’d (proudly) killed. 

She tries to lift her feet cautiously- to move in silence as she creeps around the underbrush behind Keegan. But the man is silent- save for the spare crunch of a extra dry leaf or maybe the crumble of a twig under his heavy boots. His feet move in such a practiced grace she finds herself frustrated near to tears at the twenty-seventh time a bramble catches on the back of her jacket, on her pants, or in her hair.

Maybe she shouldn’t of gone out here.

They’d been out here for hours.

Fucking.

Hours.

When she was thinking of hunting, she was thinking of a tree stand, sitting in a bush for hours doing nothing in painful silence and boredom enjoying birds and maybe a field mouse. She wasn’t expecting to be hiking the majority of the day. As if Keegan had a wild hair up his ass and needed to prove to himself he could still hike up hells half acere and not really break a sweat.

The grey hairs on the side of his head, and the quiet sound of his breaths said otherwise- but she didn’t complain. Just kept trekking along behind him.

“Eyes up, in the brush.” Keegans voice is just above a whisper- and she almost runs into the back of him. Stopping herself and peeking out over his shoulder she sees it- the buck standing out next to a tree in a thicket of brush munching on a bramble leaf. “Gun up.” He quietly urges, and she scrambles to lift the gun up. Gathering her bearings for a moment in the scope before she finally sees him- the buck- a huff of steam puffing out of the creatures nose as he exhales.

Her hand shakes, and she leans against a nearby tree to stablize herself. The crossheirs are lined up on the buck, and she’s so sure- a puff of pride in her chest that she’d going to nail she shot. It’s prefect, she can see the two black lines intersect and it’s looking like it’ll be a lung shot.

The deer turns its head, and looks in their direction.

There’s no way in hell the deer could see them, at least not that she would think. 

But it’s eyes lock directly with her own, not blinking, staring as if recognising exactly what was going to happen to him, and closing its eyes.

Her body stiffens, and her breath starts to get uneven. Her finger wrapping around the trigger and just pulling it, trying to get this over with because the eyes of the animal made he feel so much more than she originally thought she’d feel while looking down the eyes of a scope.

The shot rings out, and theres a ring in her ears- looking up and watching as the deer runs, jumping over the bramble and disappearing.

“Fuck- fuck. Fuck!” She hisses, dropping the rifle. Keegan lowers his own, watching through his scope as she dosen’t hit the animal at all. No need to track it down and put it down for its own sake. Looking back over to her to see her physically trembling.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s ok. It happens to the best of us.” Keegan soothes- he does some awkward shift back and forth, lifting his hand once and then dropping it. Finally stepping forward and resting his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get it tomorrow.”

She expects him to be mad.

Yell.

Get angry and drive them home that instant because that was such a perfect shot how could she of fucked that up.

But when he dosen’t, she has to sort through it for a moment and try and get her breathing under control. Not try to formulate the correct way to appologise to keep Keegan from raging. He grabs her rifle, slinging it over his shoulder and holding onto the strap. “We can head back to camp now if you want. The first one’s always the hardest.”

She nods, following behind him as he starts navigating their way back to camp.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” He asks, and its probably twenty minutes later. He spent the entire time finding the best way (in his mind) to ask what happened, figure out what went wrong in the process and talk it out. Sort through the movements and discuss so it wouldn’t happen again.

“I… I didn’t let the trigger surprise me. I kinda jolted when I pulled it back.” She says, nearly tripping over a rock and falling back into step behind him.

“It’s hard to get used to, and I know it’s loud. But it’s how you get the smooth follow through.” There’s no real judgement, and it’s layered with calm, neutral, and just being proud that she’d even taken the shot. It’d so much better than not taking the shot at all, the intention was there. There was just some hiccup along the way.

“It looked at me.”

He stops, because what? It looked at me- oh. Oh. The deer. And it makes sense- he hand’t really thought of that either. The first kill- even when he was young. Meeting eyes witht he creature he was about to kill for the first time it made his heart drop into his stomach. It’d been such a practiced motion- the training drilling any hesitation from him by the time he’d killed his tenth man that he never thought about it again. “My grandpa used to say the creatures in the woods know a lot more about what was happening around them, when they were about to die.” He pauses, turning and starting to walk again. Dosen’t think this would be a good conversation for eye contact. “The important part if you do it respectfully. You don’t drag out their pain, you pay your respects. You don’t linger on it.”

He hears the sound of rustling- must be the sound of her nodding.

That was good enough for him.

They’re laying prone under a bush, sitting in a different clearing and just waiting. Keegan had said it might be easier, being able to prop her gun up against a fallen branch while waiting. She was tired from the sheer amount of walking they had done yesterday. And if she noticed the scrunch of Keegans face in the morning as his joints burned, she’d know he’d felt the same way too.

“You just let it surprise you.” He comments again, he’d spent the entire morning coaching her through what was going to happen. How it was ok- she didn’t need to kill anythign this trip. He wouldn’t be mad if she didn’t. He was happy to be out here spending time with her, and as long as she was enjoying the trip it was alright to not fill a tag.

It was nearly an hour later. Whispering back and forth, a few close calls but it was just a bird shaking a tree branch, before another buck crept through the brush and into the clearing. A four pointer- a young little buck creeping its way out into the grass and looking up at the sun and cloudy sky.

The two make eye contact, and Elle nods, leaning in and taking a deep breath. Sizing up the deer through the scope and repeating the mantra’s Keegan ahd been talking about all morning.

She lines it up.

Her finger wraps around the trigger.

The deers head turns, and its eyes seemingly- hauntingly, look into her own.

Her finger is apply pressure, and she nearly jumps and drops the gun as it suprises her, and the bullet rips through the clearing sinking into the buck. It takes a few shaky steps- letting out a noise she’d never heard before. A dying, injured animal. 

Keegans already up on his feet, basically grabbing her by the back of her shirt and lifting her up before hopping over the bramble and running out into the clearing. The deer was still alive, thrashing on the ground and he makes quick work of it. Throwing a leg over the deer and pulling the fixed hunting blade off of his side and dragging it into the deers neck. The sound of it cutting through tissue and muscle, the snapping of fibers as the deer lets out one or two more increasingly weakening kicks. A desperate huff of air exhaling out of the wet black nose before it’s shiny black eyes glaze over in a way she’d never seen happen up close.

Her hands are shaking- there’s blood all over the grass, and Keegan has blood all over his hands. He’s holding the deer’s head up by the horns, and drops it before stepping closer to her and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. 

She dosen’t recognize that she’s crying at first- but when his arms wrap around her she chokes on a sob and takes a deep breath in to get herself under control. “I’m sorry- I just.” She stops herself short, and he pats her shoulder reassuringly.

She dosen’t need to say anything.

He understands.

A Plan/ Therapy

Keegan had been put through extensive psych help after the loss of their first child. He knows that. He never kept up with it though- he’d just covered it up. Mixed the cement and bricked it up behind a wall. Shoving it deep deep down inside him and layering so many things on top of it.

Price steps in front of him, and Keegan remembers cold metal on his wrists, and the scent of blood. Price saw the beginning. He can see the end. Lets himself be led away, to a room with strangers in it. There’s a conversation going on but he can’t hear it. He’s handed off to the team in gray scrubs and Keegan has a moment of hysteria in his own mind. Why wouldn’t psych wear lifeless colors? Makes sense. He’s about to follow them through the doors, into a locked ward, but turns and looks at Price. Making eye contact.

“Don’t- tell him. What you saw at the scene. Or here. Please.” It’s a warning to the whole room before his knees buckle and that scream finally breaks free. There’s a rush of activity, a needle hitting his arm, and everything goes dark. 

The flash of headlights coming fast, behind Roach’s head. The vehicle slamming into theirs. Keegan throwing himself across the car so hard the seatbelt had ripped from the frame. Getting his arm around Roach’s shoulders. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t protect him.

Gary had gone to much, much more therapy after the fact. Keegan found himself bitter , and retracted. The sessions stopped helping, so he stopped going. If it ever got too bad, he would get up before anyone else in the house and sit under the tree and talk to the little flat stones.

He leaned on one of the most familiar things he’d ever known.

Being a Ghost .

He worked through it, in his own way. He wouldn’t say he was unstable- no, he was a functioning adult with a happy family and life. But he’d find himself some moments, sitting at a red light with his eyes glazed over late at night staring at the circle of red until it burned into his eyes.

It would be with him forever.

He wanted it to be with him forever.

And it wanted to be with him.

It was the stench of blood that felt so familiar. The feeling of blood on his fingers and the warmth of the organs as he carved the deer open, ripping its guts out and onto the forest floor. The wet squelch and plop of all of the organs crushed the fern beneath it. Steam rises off of them and dissipates into the air.

“I think I’m gonna vom’.” Elle croaked out, turning her head and paling.

“You’ll be fine. Cm’here.” He replies, taking a step back from the strung-up deer and nodding his head towards the ribcage of the deer. “Grab the heart.” Never reaching a hand out and touching her- just giving her space. Giving her the opening to make the step forward.

Elle’s eyes widen, before choking a bit on her words. “I- You were serious? You want me to…”

“Take a bite outta the heart.” Keegan finishes her sentence, steam still rises off of the organs. The partially empty chest cavity radiated heat that he subconsciously lingered around. It’d been a while- a long time since he had been out like this. The smell of his rifle- the gunpowder after the shot had been fired. The smell of blood and the stink of organs was fresh in his nose. “Tradition for a first kill.”

She takes a hesitant step forward, pulling her sleeves up and reaching up into the body cavity, and pulling out her hunting knife. Cutting the heart out and holding the warm organ in a slightly trembly hand. “This is so weird.” She says, trying to joke but meeting a nearly expectant look on Keegan's face.

She didn’t want to let him down.

So she took a bite- a big one. Her teeth sank down into the muscle when a warm gush of blood seeped down her chin. Splattering down on her boot. Making a noise stuck between shock, horror, disgust, and amusement she looks up to Keegan who looks about ready to break down in laughter. Pulling back as the tissues clung to each other- pulling a thin film back onto the top of the heart and peeling. The chewy muscle quickly being swallowed, letting out a laugh of victory at the defeat of the deer’s heart.

Keegan leans forward, running his hand across her forehead and smearing the blood across her face. “You did well today. Let’s wrap this up, clean up, and I’ll cook us up something.” He replies, voice falling back into that soft tone he’d taken on ever since he’d stepped foot in the woods. 

They worked in efficient silence, safe for the odd ‘grab that’ or ‘hold that’ Keegan would utter to the other. They’d put a body wrap on the carcass and moved back to the truck to clean up. Elle using a paper towel and a bit of bottled water to wipe off her face. The streaks of blood still marked onto her skin.

He didn’t mention it,

They were earned, and they deserved to be on her skin.

He couldn’t help but feel some disappointment at the fact that his daughter- his blood- was not here. That instead of his son, who he knew was too young to be out here doing this, it was his babysitter of all people. It wasn’t anger or distaste toward Elle, just a small hollow feeling in his chest that he wouldn’t have the same memory with his children. Only mock attempts to fill the void of someone he’d become more attached to than originally planned.

Elle was family .

Whether he knew it or not, she was stuck with him. He knew that she’d looked up to him, and he knew he’d be the only Father Figure she’d have in a positive light. He knew everything about her background and knew it before she stepped foot into his home. A favor to Laswell before they brought an unknown into their home to watch his children.

An extensive background check was a benefit of having connections to people in places that could do that sort of thing, was his defense. It was just a benefit of their service, they deserved the peace of mind. He knew Simon did the same exact thing for their babysitter, the extensive vetting done without them ever knowing. It didn’t hurt them- no.

Elle couldn’t have controlled what her father did .

She couldn’t keep him there, and part of him recognized himself in her face. The young man he once was, fighting his father and kicking his Dad out of the house for hurting his Mother. That she’d chosen the same manipulative piece of shit time and time again over her own son.

He wouldn’t open that can of worms. Not tonight .

Probably never .

He’d file that back into the locked cabinet he kept all of the other assorted traumas of his life. Alphabetized, organized in neat little folders with tabs and notes he’d made of his own personal experiences. Picking them apart as if he were the third party.

He saw parts of Keegan, before he was a Ghost, in Elle.

And in times like these, he saw his Father in himself.

At least parts of him.

The good parts.

The few that he could stitch together.

The quiet sound of the water trickling in the nearby creek, the rustle of the tree's leaves overhead, and the crackle of the fire. The crinkling of aluminum foil- Keegan pulling the door open to the bed of the Truck and preparing their dinner. A pouch of potatoes full of oil and seasonings he’d prepped the night before. Just like his dad made all the times he had gone out and hunted.

The first time he’d really killed something.

Dropping the pouch onto the burning logs, the bright flames licking up around the edges of the aluminum pouch, a cast iron pan he’d placed next to the brunt of the flames heating up. 

“Elle?” He stepped out onto the bridge, the large old slats of wood and rusty metal frame painted a withering green color. Jagged boulders and bare rock covered the bottom of the creek as the cold water rushed through and under the bridge, back out and into the horizon of the dying sun.  Collections of slick yellow and brown leaves coating the bare rocks, little bushes of bramble lining one edge. She stood, hands clutching to the edge of the bridge with her head focused down onto the rushing water below, looking up as he called her name. 

“Yea?” Her voice was soft, stuffing her hands back into her pockets and taking a step toward him.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yea, just… It’s quiet out here.” She nods, walking up to him. Head focused down between the wide slats, the swirling white bubbles with the dark water continually spiraling before sputtering off a rock and down a small waterfall into another pool. Keegan nodded, walking across the platform, the sound of his boots against the solid wood- a hand reaching out and grabbing the metal siding and staring down. 

“It’s nice.” She added. “I forgot how quiet it can be.”

Keegan doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes locked on the swirling dark water.

She walks up, standing next to him and arms resting on the metal siding and resting her chin on top of her arms. “Thank you.” She mumbled.

“For what?” He doesn't turn his head, just keeps his eyes forward.

“For this. You didn’t have to- but you did.” 

“You’re family.” He responds bluntly, pushing off of the wall and making his way back to the campfire. 

She doesn’t move, opting to stand and keep listening to the rushing water until dinner was ready. 

-

He stabbed the knife into the little aluminum pouch, a puff of steam billowing out, around the blade and up into the dark sky above.  Quickly moving it out onto a paper plate to allow it to cool. A few strips of meat fried up in the pan next to them.

It was a homey meal.

It was a camping meal.

Elle sat across from him, the stain of blood still lingering on her skin picking at potatoes as they were still too hot to eat. Plopping one in her mouth and making a weird choking noise as the little morsel burnt her tongue. Keegan opted not to recognize it- rather focusing to turn and around rustle around in his bag, pulling out a small glass pint bottle from underneath his camouflage cover. 

“Catch.” Keegan said, tossing the little metal flask over to her. Elle flinched back, almost dropping her plate of dinner but grasping the edge between her fingers and holding it up to inspect before realizing what it was.

“What’s this?” She quirked a brow, looking over to him from across the flames.

“Moonshine.”

“Where’s the label?”

“ Real Moonshine doesn’t have a label.”

She laughs, the nervous energy all but seeping out of her pores as she swirls the liquid around in the bottle. “Where’d you even get this?”

“I got it from an old friend when Gary and I had a road trip back home.” Keegan explained, starting to dig the plastic fork down into his own dinner and eat it. He knew he shouldn’t of brought it- really.

He was Keegan, not his father.

Did it really have to be just like old times?

It was tradition .

And he supposed it really couldn’t hurt.

Keegan was smaller- a young man. The feeling of not being fully aware of his size in his ever growing skin. But he was becoming a man, it seemed for the hundredth time he’d been out hunting with his father, the silence the man carried with him like a thick air of plague on the land. 

That was until they’d sit down, the sun set and the bats screeching and tearing through the cold night air. Around the campfire, eating steak and potatoes. A mason jar full of that same clear liquid- or a flask of whiskey would be fished out from his pocket and tossed over the fire.

It was a ritual.

He supposes maybe that this is where he learned to bottle down his bitterness- even if when it got bad it could bubble to the top. His father a quiet man- a bitter, hate filled man but quiet for the most part. Face always screwed into some kind of a scowl as his foggy eyes scanned the room waiting for something to be out of place to pick apart.

They’d huddle around the fire, Keegan all but shaking from the adrenaline of pullign the trigger, running out into the expanse of the field or the opening in the trees where the unsuspecting buck lay- only to drag his knife across the expanse of their throat.

A mercy killing.

It was the right thing to do.

So it didn’t concern him when the stench of iron and warmth of blood became some semblance of peace in his mind.

“What happens around this fire, stays here.” The old man grumbled.

“Boy, you listen good.”

And he’d spill the stories- the horror depicted of the deeds that’d been done before he’d even been born. What old wars had been like, what had turned him into the hollowed out man he was then.

The monster he had become.

Sometimes the details would be foggy, covered in a haze of alcohol he knew he would never be able to wash off. But it was the only reason he words would spill out of his old mans mouth. 

“One day you’ll be just like me.” He warned.

Keegan stood, five years later throwing his fist into his father's face, screaming. Throwing him out onto the porch and kicking him down the stairs until he rolled onto the muddy yard- telling him if he ever laid his hands on him again he’d kill him.

Put him in the fucking ground.

Let him rot with the worms.

Him swearing that he’d never be anything like his father, that when he looked in the mirror he did not want to see what he had come from but something new- something that he had made himself.

He knows that he shouldn’t have the booze- that the burning liquid rolling down his throat is going to just open up the floodgates of so many things that he constantly tries so hard to hold down.

But it’s tradition .

Elle unscrews the lid, lifting the glass to her nose and inhaling. Face immediately screwing tight and letting out a choking groan. “That… Is strong.”

“Take a drink.”

“Of this? This smells like what I use to take off nail polish.”

“We’re at the campfire.” 

She sighs, resting the glass against her leg for a moment before lifting it, squinting her eyes shut, and taking a swig of the clear liquid. Swallowing and letting out a gag afterward. “Oh fuck-” Groaning, she leans forward and passes him the glass. “ Why? ”

“Because we’re gonna have a man-to-man talk,” Keegan explained simply. 

“I’m not a man though.” She protests.

“Dosen’t matter, it’s just the principle.” He lifts the glass up, eyes focusing on the liquid swishing around the bottle before he swallows down a gulp of the burning liquid. 

He’s holding the mason jar, swallowing down the clear burning liquid, and squinting trying to not make a face. His dad sits across from him, hands resting on his knees watching the fire between them. 

“He wasn’t dead, but I left him there.” His eyes are hollow, gaze looking past the fire and into something beyond it. Something he can’t see. “But it was him or me. And I chose me.”

Keegan was silent, cautious- as if he were ready for his father to flip on a coin and lash out at him.

“He was my best friend.”

He swirls it around again, watching the liquid spiral down into the glass. 

His Dad stands in front of him, gun in one hand and the familiar handle of a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“If you’re going to do it, at least go into the back yard so you don’t fuck up the paint.” Keegan walks away, slamming the front door behind him before he starts his walk to school.

He takes another drink, grasps tightening around the glass until his knuckles turn white.

“I’m not a good man.”

Keegan props the man back up, sets his knife under his chin, shifting his tone to annoying and cheerful. “Hi stupid. What’s your name?”

The Shadow’s voice is slurred by the broken nose, but so robotic and flat it makes Keegan’s mouth taste like metal and ash. “Steve Harmon.”

“Watcher, can you confirm?” He tilts his head, making sure the camera on his helmet has a good look. 

Laswell checks the name and face independently. “Confirmed. Shadow PMC since ‘14. Active in all recent engagements with the 141. Was off duty on injury last year, chemical exposure in Mexico.”

Keegan looks up at Soap, who seems faintly smug for a second. Alright. Here we go. “What’s your mission here, Steve?” The Shadow hasn’t blinked and Keegan hates it. Hates it so much he wants to carve the guy's eyes out because it would be less freaky.

“Infil, set gas, cover the team as they extract with the intel.” That's not a ton of info.

“Why are you still here then?” The man's pupils are so dilated Keegan can’t even tell what color they are.

“Compromised. Left behind.”

Keegan’s danger sense dials back up to ten. Something is so severely wrong here. “Who authorized this mission?”

The Shadow gargles, possibly on his own blood. “General… Shepard.”

Keegan rams his knife into the man’s mouth right as the last sound leaves his mouth, pivots, and tackles Soap, knocking them both back as far as he can. The body behind them explodes, making Keegan’s ears ring horribly. He rolls off of Soap and coughs into his mask. 

“You’ve been good to me. Never hurt me, all that matters is now .” She mumbles, with shaky hands setting down the glass and taking a deep breath- maybe not trying to vomit. Maybe something else.

“As for ‘good enough’? I don’t like that phrase. Good isn’t a metric. I can’t measure it with anything in my kit. So there’s no way to be good enough or not good enough. It just is. And you are. A good man, played knife games with me, and drank the apple juice I grabbed and didn’t want. A good man took everything I had to teach today, and wanted more.”

“I’ve killed a lot of men.” Keegan's voice is clipped- a little raw. He knows he’s right on the edge of cracking and letting the damn break. “Both by my hand and not.”

Theres a wafting smell of alcohol in the wind, some bugs chriping in the background, and the smell of smoke in the air. He wants to unload the baggage he’s been carefully sorting through- for her to really know everything. To let her sort it out for herself and decide if she thinks he is really worthy of being considered family. If he is worthy to be looked up too.

It is a test.

“Sometimes good people do… things.” She pauses, looking away and blinking a few times. “To get rid of bad people, they have to do bad things.” Her lips purse together, eyebrows knitting as if her brain shifted into overdrive. “But it’s ok.”

“And how is that?” There's a little more snark in Keegan's tone than he originally intends- swallows it back and softens his hard line of sight on her in apology.

“As long as we do the bad things for people we love, it’s ok. That’s what I tell myself.” She explains. “Sometimes we just need to drown our monsters.”

Keegan's eyes narrow.

Keegan is sitting in their bedroom- stiff as a board as he opens a manila folder Kate passed over to him like a present at his request of some information being pulled on the babysitter Gary swore was a magician with Logan. The groan of his knees as he lowered himself down onto their mattress, lifting his thumb and licking it to pull the pages apart easier. 

There wasn’t anything of interest that could be raised as a red flag, just a kid with good grades in High School. Extracurriculars- one or two mentions in her transcripts about not focusing enough in class but still straight A’s. 

Just a normal teenager.

He pulls the page back, only to be met with multiple sheets of police reports, case notes, and even a few hospital charts depicting classing Domestic Violence, public intoxication charges ranging to both her mother and father and even a stint of violent drug charges tacked onto her dad’s sheet before she was born.

He wouldn’t hold it against her.

He knew what that was like.

More pages about domestic violence.

An incident of a bar fight.

Elle winning a community service award.

One particularly bad assault against the mother.

Then, there was a police report and a coroner's report.

Dad, found dead floating in the river, with a blood alcohol content high enough to kill a horse. A photo of the distorted bloated corpse moving at the water lapped up onto the banks. 

No foul play was suspected.

They all knew he was a drunk, and the world was better off without him.

“How’d you do it?” He asks. The question was open-ended, there wasn’t really any way for her to know he had seen what he’d seen. But enough speculation in the public, maybe a rumor had met his ears.

But they were around the campfire. 

This is where they spilled their guts.

“I put Everclear in the whiskey, he didn’t notice because he’d already been too far gone. We went for a walk, in the rain.” She doesn’t look at him, eyes focused on the fire. “She was still in the hospital, it wouldn’t of worked with her there. I took him to the river's edge, next to the craigs where the water gets real rough in the winter.”

She pauses, looks up at Keegan and their eyes lock. Her eyes were cold- hollowed out in the familiar expression he saw in the mirror every morning for years.

The face of a Ghost.

“And made sure he slipped.”

He nods, following the story and matching it up to the file he’d read. “You did the right thing.”

“She hated me for it, you know.” She laughed- it was a sad, bitter laugh. “She wanted to forgive and forget, like she always did.”

Keegan cringes on the inside.

“Keegan, please. I don’t want to hate anymore. I can’t- it’s fucking rotting me from the inside out.” Gary sobs, arms wrapped around his shoulders with his head tucked into his neck. “I just want to stop- I fucking hate him so much- I want to kill him- but I can’t.”

“He deserves to die.” Keegan replies- voice cold. It was a simple statement- no, it was a demand.

“Keegan, please. This is going to kill us- it’s going to kill our family. We need to let go of this revenge.” Gary pleads- of course, he’d be the voice of reason. He’d be the one holding Keegan's bare seams together as he continued on his tear to rip himself apart. To tear himself open all in the name of vengeance. It felt bitter on his tongue- and he fought back the sneer of distaste as he stared down at his partner- the love of his life- trying to hold back the cruel words in the back of his throat.

He wanted to scream,

He wanted to fight.

To tell him,

‘You must not love our kids as much as I do.’

‘It should be my right to kill the man who took my child away from me.’

‘If they took you, I would’ve made the world fucking burn.’

Roach’s voice shakes. “Where is their scent?” His voice goes higher, and he moves to sit up, wincing a bit. Still doesn’t know why he’s in the hospital but nothing else matters apart from this right now. “Why don’t I smell it?” His voice catches hard just as Simon walks into the room. “Keegan, why don’t I smell them - where are they?”

The flash of headlights coming fast, behind Roach’s head. The vehicle slamming into theirs. Keegan throwing himself across the car so hard the seatbelt had ripped from the frame. Getting his arm around Roach’s shoulders. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t protect him. Keegan had blinked back into awareness in a mangled mess of a car, able to smell his mate, and his blood, and nothing else. 

The fact the bastard lived.

That he was able to walk away-

That he was only sent to county jail for seven years.

“Promise me, Keegan,” Gary says, hand pulling the collar of his shirt tight, shaking with the effort.

“Promise me you won’t tear apart our family- our living, breathing, family to get revenge.” 

He wanted to vomit at that. 

Keegan had screamed. Fighting to get out of his seat, pinned under the steering column and unable to do anything that actually helped. Had stabilized Roach’s neck with his hands, counted his heart beat (too fast, too fast, he’s bleeding ). Had made a very real attempt on the poor EMT’s life who had strapped Roach to the backboard, would have done it. But months ago they’d changed their emergency contact forms from Soap and Riley to Price. 

“It is my fucking fault. Get- your hands off me.” Keegan fights, goes for a hold he’d never use on Soap, trying to break his wrist to get free. Soap blocks it. “It’s my fault. And he- lost the pup. So get your fucking hands off me.” Keegan snaps his teeth, nearly catching the arm Soap has against his throat. “I did this. And I need to get myself out of his head. So he can be free of me. Because I almost killed him. Did kill.”

The horrible noise coming out of him, a snarl caught in a sob. “I killed our pup.” Throws his head back to the wall, as hard as he can. It’s not as clean as the roof, but blunt force trauma works. He’s just seen it work. Soap catches his head before he can do it again and they just. Fight. 

“He will heal from this if I die too. It’s what I deserve.” Keegan barely gets that said before he gets fucking slammed to the ground.

So Keegan lied.

“I promise.”

And it didn’t stop the thoughts- no. Those lonely, dark thoughts.

The trail he would follow any time his mind wasn’t occupied-

He couldn’t tell anyone- they’d never agree.

They’d taken a path to healing.

And Keegan refused.

He refused to forget.

He refused to forgive.

“I killed without discrimination or a second thought, for years.” Keegan started.

Why was he telling her this? She was practically a child. This wasn’t a conversation he should be having with his fucking babysitter- it would be one to have to himself, in an empty forest, with a jar of moonshine just like this. 

But part of this felt so right- that they related to eachother, that look she gave him wasn’t one of judgment but of understanding. She never knew what he was like- didn’t know him as a soldier. She had no way to know the true fear he’d instill in the eyes of men during their final breaths. And it made it easy.

He wouldn’t get the pitying glances from Soap- John - he mentally corrected himself- or the silence of Simon until he’d simply agree with Gary.

He needed to move on-

He’d tear his family apart and kill himself if he went out seeking vengeance.

“You have a family- two beautiful kids. What else could you want?”

“The third.”

“Huh?”

“Today has been the closest thing to being back in the field that I’ve been in years.” He croaks out. “And it just makes it hurt so much more .”

“Makes what hurt?”

“The fact that I can’t do anything about the mother fucker who killed my baby. ” His voice rises- and she visibly flinches back at the change of his tone. The buzz covered the sense in his brain screaming that she’d never even seen him raise his voice to her before.

“What?” She asked, in a bewildered tone.

“There was a third. Before our others. The first, a drunk driver during the third trimester.” He explained, leaning back and sneering his lips up in a disgusted frown. 

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t know.” She whispers.

“You wouldn’t of, Gary likes to basically forget that they ever existed. It makes it easier to move on. Focus on the living and not the dead.” He replies like it’s vinegar on his tongue- like he holds some kind of hate toward him for moving on. “I don’t… I don’t blame him. I don’t hate him, I get it. Dwelling on the past is a dangerous thing, but-”

“You want revenge.”  She states.

“I do. I want an eye for an eye- a life for a fucking life for the bastard who killed my child.” He agreed.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asks.

“You’re family…” He pauses, lip quivering and he forces that down with all of his strength because he just won't fucking cry tonight. “You’re like a daughter to me Elle. You’re like their older siblings- and you’re like my oldest daughter. And if you don’t feel the same way-”

“I do. I wish you were… No.” She stops herself. “You are. You’re the only father figure I’ve had. And you’re family. I’d do anything for you guys.” She shrugs. “You’re an entire pack of Ex-Military, why don’t… You know.” She makes a motion, an invisible string in her hands she reaches out and tightens around her neck, pulling tight and straining. 

He laughs a hollow, bitter, empty sound. “Did you know the average charge for what that piece of shit did only lasts ten years? Less as long as he’s on his best behavior?”

“A man who can’t protect his family is fuckin’ useless- ya’ hear me boy?” His dad kicks dirt in his face. “Get up.” Keegan's arms struggle, pushing himself off of the dirt and getting back onto his feet before his father kicks him down once more. 

“I said get up.” 

“I hate you.” Keegan snarls.

“You wanna be the man of the house? Avenge your mama?” The old man spits in the dirt in front of his face.

“Pathetic.”

“It’d kill Gary if I went to prison- got separated from the kids. It’d never be right, they’d know their father murdered a man not for war- but for pleasure. They’ve all adopted a forgive-and-forget strategy.”

“Is he… Ya know, out?” She asks.

“He has a year or so left on his sentencing.” He grimly replied. “I’ve been keeping tabs on him, not that any of the others know.”

“Could you not… Do it yourself?” She questioned.

“I’d be too sloppy- it’d be too obvious. I’d be the first person they went out looking for if he disappeared.” He folded his arms together, leaning down on his knees. He has no idea how he hasn’t broken down this entire time- maybe it was some combo of the alcohol and the fact there wasn’t any way to disappoint in this situation. She was neutral, safe. She didn’t hold the same resentment towards revenge.

Simon of all fucking people should’ve been down. Should’ve been ready to go out and skin the mother fucker alive for what he took from him.

“We are civilians now, Keegan. We’d be no better than what we fought against if we did that.”

People change, he reminds himself.

A family will do that to you.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the crackling of the dying fire- the collapsing of logs. She takes the jar from him, unscrewing the lid and taking a small sip- still grimacing at the taste.

“I’d do it.” 

He looks up, a questioning glint in his eye. “Do what?”

“I’d kill him.”

“You almost puked at a deer.”

“And I pushed my dad into the river.” She bluntly responds. “We’d have an alibi.” 

“What kind?”

“A hunting trip, just like this one.” She explains.

Keegan had thought about this scenario a million times over. The different ways he would do it- how he’d never get caught realistically until he was in the moment. He knew that his emotions would get the better of him in the situation and that if I did it by himself he would get sloppy. That he’d leave something trailing back to him and he’d fail Gary as a parent. That he’d fail his children as a dad.

“It’d be pretty convenient if he went missing the day we go on a hunting trip.” He replied. “Listen- Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment, but you and I both know-”

“Fresh on parole, skips town. Doesn’t come back. There’s no trace, no one to really care to look. And you go on a hunting trip. If anyone asks, we were hunting. Cut him up into little pieces and spread him across state lines if you have to. Or, you make it look like an accident.”

Keegan fidgets with his thumb. “I want him to suffer.”

“You’ve thought it out- you’ve had to of planned it.”

“More times than I can count.”

“Then we make a plan.” She crosses her arms, leaning back. “And we come up with a codeword. You say it to me and we know it’s gone time- I’ll drop everything and we go out on an impromptu hunting trip.”

“I’m not going to involve you in this.” Keegan says- trying to form some kind of stern denial in her offer- trying to fight against his internal monologue screaming in joy that he’d finally fucking do it. He’d avenge his family.

“Either you involve me, or I’ll rat you out the day he goes missing- you and I both know you’ll kill him.” She spits out, a sassy curl at the end as if she’d just placed him into checkmate.

His eyes narrow- rat him out - as if he wouldn’t just fucking kill her too that night and be done with it. “Making ultimatums?” He asks, pausing for a moment before breaking out into a deep-chested laugh. “I’d do the same thing.”

She keeps her serious composure- this was a negotiation now. And she had the upper hand.

He couldn’t kill her.

“Doughnuts.” He says.

“Doughnuts?” She echos.

“If I ask you for… Cinnamon Doughnuts, we do this and we do it my way.” He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. That he is even indulging in this entire conversation when it could just be a total joke. 

This wasn’t right.

He shouldn’t be involving her-

He shouldn’t even be talking about this.

But it felt so, so good to be validated.

It made him feel like he wasn’t the monster of the situation, to want revenge. To want to go out and split him open like a fish, grab him by the heart, and squeeze it until he pops. 

To make him feel what he felt.

“How do you think he’ll do it?” Clearly Keegan wasn’t expecting that because confusion takes over his features. Johnny crosses his arms, pretends to be thoughtful. “We already know he won’t jump off a bridge. Couldn’t do it the first time, so probably couldn’t do it this time. Maybe he’ll get a knife, you’ve got a ton of those lying around and we both know how good he is with them. It would only take a few minutes. He’s lost a good bit of blood already, so it wouldn’t take much more.” Keegan’s face is doing something awful and Johnny feels sick but he keeps going.

“Or maybe, since he’s still feeling guilt from when he shot you, he’ll just grab a pistol and make it quick and fast. He doesn’t really seem like the type to use a rope, but hell- I’m intimately familiar with how much a bond break hurts, I know how hard it is to fight going head first into the end.”

Johnny looks Keegan in the eye, hard. “There won’t be anyone to accept his flag, I guess me and Simon will take it. Or shit, Price. I feel bad, he’s going to lose two kids in one day. But don’t worry, Simon’ll make sure you’re buried face down, and hey, maybe we’ll bury Roach’s flag with you.”

Keegan hits his knees. “Fuck. You.” Gasping for air, failing to get it. Struggling, fighting himself and Soap and the whole fucking universe. “If I live- I don’t know how. I don’t know how to do this. I can’t put him together again, because there is nothing left of me. I took my mate, to get a snack he was craving, and now our pup is gone. What the fuck do I even do. I can’t- be what he needs me to be. I can’t. Because I can’t tell him why this shit happened. Why this cruel fucking twist of fate hit us.”

Keegan drops to his elbows and knees, and swipes at Soap when he moves. “Fuck off Soap. Can you explain it? Can you tell me how to help him? Can you really sit there and say he needs me? This fucking thing that I am right now?” Keegan tips his head up and stares. “Or do you think you can put me back together? Pick up my pieces? You think I’m worth anything to anybody after this?” Keegan sobs, wheezing, and fighting. “ I am broken.”

“ Cinnamon Doughnuts. ” She replies. “Okay.” She nods.

“This dies with us.” Keegan's words are stern, deadly.

“To the dirt.”

Doughnuts.

“Hi, little bug.” His voice shakes worse than his hands. “I have a story for you. Two actually. One about you, and one about your dad. See- I was so nervous about you, I blamed your dads shampoo for your little scent. Don’t know how I ever made that mistake. His shampoo smelled like doughnuts. You smell like vanilla. But I did. I wanted to tell you that story as soon as it happened. Knew you and your dad would tease me for it for the rest of my life. And now I think I’ll always think of you, when I smell both of those things. Every doughnut shop is you saying hello. Every whiff of vanilla is a little hug I never got to give you. And that’s how I’ll love you, even though you’re not here. I’ll share a doughnut with you in the mornings.”

Herakles feared to stain his clothes with blood. 

And Theseus said Stain Them.

 I Do Not Care.

~

Out on Parole

Elle sat on a bench at the mechanic shop scrolling on her phone. The grass had been freshly mowed, the sun was out and she’d even shredded her sweatshirt. The sun warming her skin as she kept adjusting the screen of her phone trying to find an angle that wasn’t being glared on by the too-bright sky.

She’d hopped into her car that morning only to see a low tire pressure warning on her dash. Groaning- bitching- and moaning all at once she checked the tire to make sure it wasn’t too flat, before driving her ass down to the nearest shop that would be able to take a look at it and hopefully plug whatever hold they find in it.

She really didn’t want to buy new tires.

She’d probably been waiting fourty minutes before the tall, skinny mechanic with scraggly facial hair sprouting off of his chin approached in one of the most confident- i’m about to screw you- postures before greeting her and breaking the news.

“We found a screw in your tire, and you car really needs new oil. That and brakes- really, we shouldn’t even be letting you leave the lot your brakes are so bad.” His voice is sweet, but so condescending it makes her want to laugh.

“I just had my brakes replaced.” She replies, crossing her arms and leaning back. 

She she means just- she’d asked Keegan nicely, and they’d made a day of it. Keegan and John getting into some competition about who could replace the brakepads faster. She’d been so busy casing Logan around she didn’t know who had won, but she was happy either way because her brakes had been replaced and she’d gotten to see her favorite little demon.

“Are you sure it was your brakes? And how recent?” He crosses his arms, getting defensive now that he feels like his bullshit is getting called. “You know they need to be done for both front and back, right?”

A few more minutes of arguing and she’s stepping to the side- calling Gary. She’d call Keegan, but he was out with John at the park and she didn’t want to bug him while he had the kids. He picks up the phone, and she quickly explains the situation- they weren’t going to let her leave. Insisting that she didn’t know what she was talking about. Gary wasn’t some soft weak man, he could flip on a coin and get really mean, really quick. She’d seen it happen- and was always so grateful she’d never faced his wrath.

It takes all of five minutes before Gary is tearing into the parking lot, man on a mission and bursting through the doors and into the lobby and he starts tearing into the mechanic insisting Elle dosen’t know what she’s talking about.

To the point the man is red in the face, appologizing and offering to comp all of the services that’d been provided.

Gary lends back, crossing his arms and letting out and huff before giving a quick glance to Elle to see if that was alright. She shakes her head, no, and nods her head to the pegboard backing the register.

“And.” Gary’s voice a cold, firm. It leaves no room- absolute zero room to argue. It’s his military voice- she realzies, and it just makes this so much funnier. “She wants a air freshener.” He nods behind the man basically cowering behind the counter to the little tree air freshener behind him.

She gets an entire stack.

They’re walking out of the lobby evily cackling, Elle’s eyes practically stars. “That was awesome! How did you do that?” She’s giddily rubbing the plastic packaging of the air fresheners together, handing him and few as she jingles her keys in the other hand. Her car had been brought back out into the parking lot, the mechanic walking back into the shop like a puppy with his tail tucked in between his legs.

She’s pulling open the door to her car when she notices Gary is just standing there, staring . Not at her- but he’s visibly trembling. There’s already tears pouring down his face and a noise rips out of his throat she’s never heard before that makes it feel like someone just punched her in the gut with brass knuckles.

He’s staring into the shop- eyes locked on some man lingering in the back of the tire shop wrenching on a tire. 

Gary makes that noise again and practically crumples into her arms. She’d shoving him into the back seat and calling Keegan. Gary is practically inconsolable and sobbing- she can’t get anything out of him and then Keegan picks up the phone.

“Elle? You ok?” He asks, she’s currently struggling with getting Gary to stay upright- to breathe. “Gary breathe- what’s wrong?” She cuts herself off, she sound scared - “I don’t know, I don’t know he just started freaking out in the parkin’ lot. Gary please what’s wrong?”

Gary wails in response.

He’s trapped in his mind, reliving the same moment over and over again.

His own scent and.. nothing else. Panic shoots through him, leaking into the bond, and Keegan freezes. Roach’s voice shakes. “Where is their scent?” His voice goes higher, and he moves to sit up, wincing a bit. Still doesn’t know why he’s in the hospital but nothing else matters apart from this right now. “Why don’t I smell it?” His voice catches hard just as Simon walks into the room. “Keegan, why don’t I smell them - where are they?”

Keegan gets there in record time, kids left in the car with John- he leaves. Quickly.

It takes a while, but he calms Gary down enough to basically pick him up and place him in the passenger seat of their car. Elle’s hovering- painfully awkward and confused and wondering if she did something wrong for all of this to happen.

Keegan closes the door to the car and turns to her, softly mumbling that he’d take him home and that he would see her later. 

They speed off, leaving her alone in the parking lot wondering what the fuck just happened.

~

Box Under The Baseboards

Soap is a literal statue next to him, Keegan looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Take it. You’ve got your Ghost. Lock the other one up. If you need it, give me that back. Otherwise, I think I fit better here without it. Unless it’s my ugly mug that’s putting you off, which is impossible.”

It so many weeks later, he’s been itching to the point where he’s picked the skin raw from around his fingers and he’s staring at the floor like it’s going to melt out from underneath him and swallow him whole.

Gary had seen him. He didn’t even fucking know the man had gotten off on parole- didn’t even know he’d decided to move back into the same city and he was furious. He knew the anger was slightly misplaced, but in his mind was so warranted. It’d slipped through the cracks, to Laswell, to him.

It was just the wrong place at the wrong time and honestly? It was probably for the best that Keegan didn’t fully understand why Gary had broken down because he would’ve killed the man there and he’d be sitting in a orange jumpsuit waiting for the electric chair. 

Gary’s with the kids at the Laswells. Their relationship had been, rocky, to say the least for the last few weeks. Hoping that a breath of fresh air for the kids and some time apart would help them heal in their own ways.

Keegan was confident he was going to heal much faster, and be much more satisfied by the end of it that Gary ever would by trying to forgive, forget, and move on.

Hes kneeling now, staring back into the closet before he finally does it- rips the bandaid off and pulls the carpet back. Fingers digging into a tack strip and he just keeps pressing forward. Splintering the strip and finally getting his hand on the wood of the baseboards. Pressing on the one loose one- three back from the wall and one to the left. 

He’s staring down at a little black box wrapped up in a plastic bag, and he dosen’t know if he should really grab it and actually pull it out.

Maybe it would be too much.

But his hands are pulling the bag out of the hole in the floor and the crinkling of plastic is louder than any grenade he’d ever come into contact with. Pulling the bag open, then cracking the lid of the box off and staring into it.

“I have a consistent, and recurring nightmare. That is part of a paranoid delusion. I dream, that I’m back in the psych ward, restrained. And standing at the foot of the bed, is a child. Five or six. Wearing my Ghost mask. Telling me that I am dangerous. That I am a threat to your child, just by existing.” Keegan keeps it as concise as possible. It’s still awful to say.

There were three masks, five burner phones, and a poorly knitted baby sock.

Three of his Ghost masks, folded neatly and placed in that box.

He pulls two of the masks out, leaves one for him God forbid ever needing it again and puts it all neatly back together as if he never dug down into it in the first place. Then a burner phone.

He’s packed and ready to go- packed everything he would need, the tarps, the bags, the rope, all of it together the second the house emptied out. No one was here to watch him- and that was what he wanted. 

To be alone and finally able to do what needed to be done a long time ago.

He dials Elle’s number on the burner, calling twice before she finally picks up. Groggy and confused and a little pissed off. Before she gets a word in he speaks.

“Cinnamon Doughnuts.” And hangs up.

He sits down on his and Garys bed, hand stretching out across the fabric of the quilt before taking a deep breath in. He knew he could do this- knew he needed to do it. He’d rather kill himself now than not follow through with it.

But he can’t help but feel dirty- like a disgusting snake lying and keeping secrets about why he needed to be alone. Why he needed to sort through his thoughts.

Keegan crumples the trash in his hand and stands up. Tastes that little bit of wishful hope on the air. “If you’re asking, if I’d do that with you, protect you, give you options. Course I would darlin’. Choice is something we’re all entitled to.”

He was such a fucking hyopcrite. Taking away Gary’s choice in the matter by not even letting him know what he was doing- by lying and promising him that he wouldn’t do exactly what he was prepping himself to do.

“Keegan, please. I don’t want to hate anymore. I can’t- it’s fucking rotting me from the inside out.” Gary sobs, arms wrapped around his shoulders with his head tucked into his neck. “I just want to stop- I fucking hate him so much- I want to kill him- but I can’t.”

“He deserves to die.” Keegan replies- voice cold. It was a simple statement- no, it was a demand.

“Keegan, please. This is going to kill us- it’s going to kill our family. We need to let go of this revenge.” Gary pleads- of course, he’d be the voice of reason. He’d be the one holding Keegan's bare seams together as he continued on his tear to rip himself apart. To tear himself open all in the name of vengeance. It felt bitter on his tongue- and he fought back the sneer of distaste as he stared down at his partner- the love of his life- trying to hold back the cruel words in the back of his throat.

He’s in a haze when Elle pulls in, the headlights of her car shining against his bedroom window. He stands. Meeting her outside- she’s wearing all black. He tosses her an additional black sweatshirt to go over the hood he currently has pulled over her head.

And one mask.

She holds the mask in her hand, blatantly obvious how tired she was. Blinking the sleep away from her eyes and wondering what the fuck the peice of fabric in her hands was.

“Put it on when I tell you too.” Keegan replies, voice dropped low. Cold. Devoid of any real emotion as he turns to his truck, motioning for her to get in.

It was now or never.

.

“I don’t know how to do this, how to say goodbye when I never even got to say hello. But I have to.” There’s tears trying to spill and he tries not to let them fall. Fails. “I don’t- believe in the soul, not really. In some higher power or deity, but I believed in you. In what you could have been, in what we could have been. And I loved you, more than I thought possible.” He cannot look at Keegan, knows that if he does he’ll lose the rest of his confidence.

“Grief, I’ve learned, is just love. It’s the love you want to give, but can’t. Grief is love with no place to go and that is why I am so full of it. Because I love you- and you’re not there to take it. And that love became tainted and turned to grief. My only hope is that one day, one day I’ll find something or someone new to give that love too, so it has somewhere to go.” Then, like he’s been burned, he rips his hands off of himself, takes a steadying breath and guides Keegan’s hands to where his just were.

Keegan starts crying, just tears running the second Roach touches his bump, and doesn’t stop. The tiny boots almost shatter him. The words come closer. Keegan takes a deep breath and lets Roach guide his shaking hands to the bump.

“Hi, little bug.” His voice shakes worse than his hands. “I have a story for you. Two actually. One about you, and one about your dad. See- I was so nervous about you, I blamed your dads shampoo for your little scent. Don’t know how I ever made that mistake. His shampoo smelled like doughnuts. You smell like vanilla. But I did. I wanted to tell you that story as soon as it happened. Knew you and your dad would tease me for it for the rest of my life. And now I think I’ll always think of you, when I smell both of those things. Every doughnut shop is you saying hello. Every whiff of vanilla is a little hug I never got to give you. And that’s how I’ll love you, even though you’re not here. I’ll share a doughnut with you in the mornings.”

He can still smell it in his nose, the tiniest waft of vanilla materializing in his nose. It felt like a omen that he was doing the right thing. That this wasn’t wrong and he was well within the borders of right and wrong- no good in this scenario. Just justice.

“His name is Oscar Tillman.” Keegan says, breaking the silence of the truck. The sound of the truck creaking, the occasional dip in the road. “43. Alcoholic. Responsible for the death of Gary and I’s first child. Works at the shop you took your car to the day Gary had a breakdown. He saw him. He got off early, on parole.”

And Elle feels terrible, that sinking feeling in her gut knowing that she is the reason that he saw the man responsible for the death of their child in the first place burns in her throat like acid.

It was dark, sun set in the background and twilight took over the sky. And Keegan drove- heading towards the same shop, street lights casting a ominous glow as the world seemed to know Keegan and his mission. That he was no longer a man, that he was a reaper searching for a specific soul.

“Put the mask on.” He orders, turning around a corner and pulling onto a side road. There’s a man walking up ahead, dirty pants and a dark jacket that has the mechanics shop logo on the back. Keegan was always a thorough man. Deidicating himself to stalking the man and finding out how he ticked, the way he walked to get back to his group home, what days he worked late. What he ate for lunch. 

He wanted to know what he’d find in his stomach when he split him open.

He looks and her, and she nods. Accelerating, Keegan slides down next to the sidewalk. Hopping out of the truck with the mask pulled over his face and pulling a handgun out from his waistband. 

“Get in the fucking truck.” He growls out- and it’s a tone she didn’t really think was possible to come from Keegan. The nice man- the always calm, keeping it level headed and cautious. Nice Keegan. This was nothing like the Keegan Elle knew. This was someone else entirely.

Oscar raises his arms, stuttering and trying to take a step back. “I don’t want any trouble, you can have my wallet man.” 

Keegan lunges forward, and Elle throws the back passenger door open and makes quick work of getting the fuck out of the way. With a little more stuggle than Keegan would’ve liked- itd been a long time since he’d done anything like this- he forced Oscar into the back of the truck. Ziptying his arms behind his back and legs together with the thickest ties he’d been able to find. Passing the gun to Elle for a moment while he used both hands to more efficiently tie the man down.

Elle grasped the handle of the handgun- the entire situation surreal and she kept the barrel trained on his head. Oscar- in a desperate attempt- thrashed, and she stuck the barrel right up against his temple. “Quit fucking moving.” She speaks- and it’s as if it was a different person. It was not her speaking, no, not in this mask. In this mask she’d become something differently entirely. Shedding the skin of a mere human and turning into something akin to a ghost.

Keegans proud- a little impressed at the inititive Elle is taking. Securing him in the back that had the seats stood up and a big blue tarp propped up to make sure little old Oscar didn’t leave any trace of the human scum he was in the back of his truck. Stuffing a rag in his mouth and duct taping around his head for good measure to make sure he stayed quiet.

He’d have to put the carseats back in, and that was enough of a pain without cleaning up blood.

He gets into the truck, and silence fills the cab. 

He starts driving towards the woods.

Sees how tense Elle is in the passenger seat, so, he turns on the radio.

Revenge

~

They’d been driving for well over an hour, finally pulling into some clearing way out a dirt service road and Elle’s sure Keegan had scouted out this area beforehand. She glances at him before pulling the handle of the door and hopping out of the truck. Once again taking a step back and watching as Keegan creeps, stalks his way over to the back passenger door and pulls it open.

Grabbing Oscar by some combination of clothes, hair, and limbs and tossing him out onto the dirt like a sack of shit. The man is trembling, shaking in his boots and there’s moisture accumulated around his eyes like he’d been crying while they drove. Keegan drags him by his hair to a tree positioned nearly fifty feet away from his truck, his headlights illuminating the whole scene. Throwing him back to the ground, he takes the time to rip the duct tape off of his face. Chunks of hair and a spit filled rag come off with the tape, the man gasping for breath and letting out a sob.

“Please.” He begs, looking up at the mask. “Please I’m so sorry, please just let me go I won’t tell anyone.”

Keegan kneels, so that he is at eye level with the horrified man. His hand reached under to the seam of the mask, lifting it up and over his face.

She thinks the sight of Keegans bare face is scarier to the man than the mask.

“Do you know who I am?” Keegan asks, his voice is level. A practiced calm, slipping into the headspace of a soldier during an interrogation. He had information he wanted to extract from the man. Tuggs the mask back down, he dosen’t deserve to see his face.

Oscar’s eyes are as wide as saucers, gaping up at Keegan and turning whiter than a sheet at the realization. Maybe it was that moment he relaized he wouldn’t be walking out of this alive, maybe it was when he knew that this dirt was going to be the place he died. He offers one more time. “Please… I’m so sorry. I am a changed man- I never meant to-”

His next words are cut off by Keegan hitting him so hard across the face his entire body is thrown to the side, arms tied behind his back so Oscar is unable to catch himself from the fall and ends up face first in the dirt.

“You have no right to appologise.” Keegan strides forward, kicking the man in the center of his body and Elle swears she hears something crack.

“You shouldn’t even be alive, you piece of shit.” He sneers, landing another kick before both hands lunging forward and grasping him by the chest, rolling him onto his back and digging his knee into his throat.  Oscar is sputtering- gasping for breaths that aren’t reaching his lungs. Face bright red and Keegan leans into it more, feeling the muscles of his neck bending forward as his knee crushes his windpipe.

“Keegan.” Elles voice breaks him out of it. He stands, almost immediately, thankful she caught him as he tunnel visioned.

He didn’t want it to be that easy-

He wouldn’t let it end this soon.

He gives her a nod, before turning on his heel and making his way to the back of the truck and pulling out a spool of rope. He’d changed his clothes too- putting on some kind of painters suit Elle would’ve laughed at if it didn’t mean this was going to get much more messy. Passing them by and walking up to the tree, spending only a few minutes tying knots and shit into the tree before he steps away, a noose in hand and Oscar starts screaming. 

“Please- please don’t- FUCK! Fuck you! You fucking peice of shit I hope you fucking rot in hell-” Keegan slips the noose over the mans neck, dragging him backward closer to the tree. The second he lets up off the rope, nodding backwards. Elle rushes over, grabbing the rope and putting it taught. As she pulls the man struggles to stand, reaching up onto his tiptoes before she gives the rope slack, and he leans forward wheezing and gasping for breath.

Keegan takes a step back, watching before nodding and Elle pulls as hard as she can, basically dead weight onto the rope and watching as the rope tightens and pulls up. Oscar is choking- eyes bulging out of his head and he’s spinning side to side  trying to keep air in his lungs and he’s failing.

Kagan nods, and Elle lets the rope go slack, Oscar drops to his knees and Keegan kneels in front of him. “You killed my child. And I’m going to kill you.” Stands, and leaves to go to the truck to grab something else.

Oscars wheezing, choking on his own spit and maybe blood. Letting out a random sob now and then before yelling- screaming at the top of his lungs. “Please I don’t want to die!” Keegan turns, holding a tire iron. The long L shaped tool pulled out of the kit in the back of his truck next to the spare.

“Neither did the baby.” He replies, before lifting the tire iron and beating the man senseless. Staring low, nailing him a few good times in the calves before taking out one of his knees. A Good crack from the knee before he’s nodding to Elle and she’s pulling on the rope as hard as she can. Choking him out until Keegan nods and she drops it, leading to another round of beatings from Keegan.

At one point he strikes Oscar across the face, his body falling to the side and going limp, pained noises and a gurgling that must the the teeth he knocked out of his mouth filling it with blood. Picks him back up and forces him to stand. “You don’t get to fuckin’ rest.” Keegan mocks him, Elle pulls the rope taut enough to keep the man upright. His eyes hazy, barely able to focus on what was happening around him. The pain to much. 

He drops the tire iron, pulling a despicable looking fixed blade from a sheath in his back pocket and cutting the man down at the hamstrings.

Oscars eyes open wide, and lets out a animalistic scream as he falls to his knees, rope catching his neck and strangling him more. His neck is a deep purple already, blood seeping down where the rope had dug too far into his skin.

“Drop it.” His eyes narrow on Elle, who quickly does so. “Go wait behind the truck.” She hesitates for a moment, and he snarls, snapping at her “Do what I fuckin’ tell you.”

She gone a moment later. 

There’s blood pooling at the back of Oscars legs and Keegan knows he dosen’t have much time left. The internal injuries- he’s pretty sure he cracked a rib into his lung ten minutes ago. He’s fucked, right on the cusp of loosing consiousness but by some stubborn spite than man’s eyes are open, albeit hazy.

He digs the tip of the blade down at the bottom of his pelvis, and starts dragging upward. Whatever strength is left in the man is thrown all into trying to fight against him, fight against the blade and the fucking stench of blood that fills the air hits his nose and he drools. Drools at the feeling of hot blood on his fingers. Carves the man open as if he’s preforming an autopsy and digs his hand into the mans body cavity and rips the skin open.

He’d lost consciousness by the time he’d ripped it up to the bellybutton, but he dosen’t care. There’s no way Gary won’t see the glint in his eyes- smell the blood. Feel his excitement and joy and all of the hatred and anger pouring out of him as he carves the man open like a fish and rips his heart out. The organ struggling, barely beating by the time he got to it but he does it anyways. Drops it to the ground with a solid, wet, thump.

 Keegan takes a step back, taking a deep breath and letting all of his rage out on the corpse of the man who killed his child.

When he’s back in his own mind, breathing ragged, a thoroughly wet tire iron in his grip, and completely splattered with blood. Oscar is… Unrecognizeable. A pulverized head, dented in chest cavity and pants wet from where at some point the man had pissed himself out of fear. 

Shucks the painters suit off of his body, fetches lighter fluid out of the truck and burns it there on the spot, along with Oscars clothing. And there he layed. Naked, cut open, and caved in.

He didn’t feel any regret.

If anything, he felt relief.

When he gets Elle out of the truck, she’s still wearing the mask and they quickly pit stop into the creek to wash the copious amount of blood that ended up on Keegans hands, and splattered through the eye holes of the mask and onto his skin.

It was always that someone would have to earn the mask before they wore it- he relaizes he broke so many of his old rules by tossing it on his fucking babysitter. Dosen’t really want her to see the aftermath of the puddle of a corpse he’d made. But was sure she’d watched from inside the car, him beating relentlessly letting all of the hate and rage and sorrow out of his system.

It was so much better than any therapy he had to sit through.

“Thank you.” Keegan says, leaning against the truck. He’d pulled out a cigarette and smoked it, hands shaking from the adrenaline of it all. Always kept a pack in the back under the floorboards for emergencies. Gary though he quit a long time ago. He still snags one every once and a while.

Elle plucks the cig from his lips, taking a long and hard drag off of it. Near immediately sputtering into choking coughs, leaning forward and dry heaving for a moment before standing back up. Squaring her shoulders and nodding. “What now?”

When he pulls himself back together enough to look at what he’s done. He almost laughs. The stones aren’t facing west towards America, or in the direction of Roach’s hometown. They’re pointed towards the house.

He grabs three blankets out of the hall closet, and goes outside. Takes the blankets first and sets them up at the base of the tree. Finds a shovel, lugs it over. One more trip, for the stone pavers. Uses the shovel and his body weight to crack the stones into smaller pieces. Then starts digging. The ground is hard, and full of small rocks. He digs anyways. Until he’s sweating, and his hands have torn open.

Doesn’t dig it deep, and doesn’t dig it wide.

It’s a hole for things, not a grave.

He dosen’t even dig a hole.

Elle has to wait in the car after nearly vomiting as he pulled out the saw.

They spend the next three hours driving through the forest in the night, deep in those dark fucking woods tossing out a spare limb deep into the brush for them to be scavenged by animals miles apart from eachother down a service road that hadn’t been utilized since the late seventies.

They burn pieces of him, out in the woods in small fires until the bone is brittle and it turns into dust. The two of them still wearing the masks, two Ghosts standing in the woods watching the blood burn and melt into the dirt.

Her eyes are a little glazed over- but he gets it. The whole night was a lot. Even for him- but they weren’t done yet. There was the corpse to deal with, he’d handle the majoirty of it.

It was the least he could do.

For good measure each time he gets out and hikes back into the brush, sometimes tossing it off a cliff, into a creek, scattering the little pieces of the piece of shit so he would never be whole.

Just like he wouldn’t.

So they’d never be able to string all the pieces of him back together.

He’d never rest.

There’s no blood to clean out of the back of the truck. The tools and left scattered miles apart in the woods. The events that happened that night would go with them to the dirt.

And no one ever found him.

And no one ever missed him.

And all that’s left is dreams of blood in the dirt and water washing away their sins.

Off to College

It’s sunny. Barely any clouds in the sky and Keegan is standing with his hands on his hips, inspecting the back of his truck one more time to make sure that everything they’d loaded into the back of it was secured. He’d only checked it six times.

Logan, nearly inconsolable as Elle holds the young boy up in the air before wrapping him up in a hug. Turning to Lily and her charging forward and holding her tight, making her promise that she wouldn’t be gone forever- that she’d visit. 

“I’m not dyin’ guys. Just going off for school.” She tries to reason, but Logans nearly heartbroken, and Lily’s sad she is loosing her older sister.

Gary takes a step forward, holding a little white envelope and side eyeing Keegan who is still fucking fussing with the shit in the back of his truck. Pulling Elle into a tight hug. “We wanted to give you something before you went to college.” It’s a little sheepish, the way he says it. Elle tries to rufuse “You guys have given me so much- more than I could’ve ever asked for.” 

Gary gives her the look- as if he was scolding Logan for something. “Take the envelope.”

She laughs, taking the paper and tucking it into her pocket before giving him one more big hug. “I’ll be back for my first break, alright?”

“Alright,” He nods, crossing his arms. “I’m holding you too that.”

She waves, giving one more round of goodbyes before climbing into the truck with Keegan, and driving away in the direction of her new dorm.

She opens the envelope, hours later, standing in her new dorm surrounded by some half opened boxes.

Thank you,

For everything you’ve done.