Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     In the sweltering bosom of the southern United States, nestled amongst cornfields, woods, and pig farms is the town of Faerun, a modest city where the rumor that a Hardee’s might soon be opening on Highway 412 is actually news. Ten years ago, the high school women’s basketball team won the state championship and people still talk about that game. It features two elementary schools, a handful of churches, two movie theatres, but most importantly, for some people in town anyway, a roller rink. The Adventure Zone Roller Rink and Arcade opened in 1979 and has been struggling ever since. There is really only one thing that keeps the doors to The Adventure Zone open, and that is roller derby.

     Julia snapped her gum and pushed open the door of The Adventure Zone Roller Rink. The smell of the place greeted her like an old friend--not that it was a great smell, mostly feet and sweat and popcorn and wood polish, but it also smelled like home.

     Ah, and here was her family now. Hurley came flying up to her, yelling something unintelligible, and punched her in the hip, which was about as high as she could reach.

     Julia grinned and threw up her hands. “What?”

     “I said, are you ready to beat the Felicity Wild Women? ”

     “Hell yeah!”

     “Hell yeah !” came a shout from across the rink. It was Killian, and she was flexing. Carey poked her head out of the door to the locker room, cackled at the sight of Killian, and fanned herself dramatically.

     “Let’s go, let’s go, get your skates on, c’mon!” said Hurley, bounding her way over to their friends at the door. Julia strode after her.

     The locker room was hardly anything more than a closet. Merle, the guy who owned The Adventure Zone, had cut some kind of party room in half to jerry-rig two locker rooms together. One was permanently theirs, but the nicer one was for visiting teams. Personally, Julia liked theirs, which was covered in old posters and photos from past seasons. Killian had gone in with her, so now everyone was there: Killian, who wore dresses every day, but none with sleeves because no sleeve could handle her biceps; Hurley, who was short and stocky and a ball of energy, and was currently doing a handstand on a bench just because she could; Carey, whose smallest motions were precise and quick and whose grin spelled trouble; Sloane, the car grease all over her arms making it look like the Korean tattoos on her arms were smudged, her lithe form slinking through the room; Noelle, chipper as always, fitting her prosthetic skating leg on single-handed, her prosthetic arm lying beside her on the bench; Taako, who was already in uniform and putting on illegal amounts of eyeliner; and Lucretia, arms crossed, observing them all with an expression of stone, though Julia did occasionally see the corners of her lips twitch.

     “I’m just saying,” Carey was telling Noelle, “since they lost whats-her-face, the Wild Women haven’t had a single solid blocker.”

     “Good blockers or no, they still don’t have any problem beating us, do they?” drawled Taako.

     Julia swung her skates off her shoulder, popped open her locker--no use using the lock, it was broken--and pulled out the elements of her costume. Electric blue shorts and jersey, kneepads, elbow pads, long socks, and Julia’s personal touch, some ridiculous orange fishnets. “This time we’ll do it for sure. Right ladies?”

     “Hell yeah!” returned the chorus, all but Lucretia.

     “Don’t get overconfident,” said Lucretia, in her Coach Voice. “Taako’s right. This isn’t going to be an easy match. Especially with a new referee.”

     Hurley fell out of her handstand and stuck the landing. “New ref? What happened to Merle’s guy?”

     Lucretia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter for this bout, does it? I just want you all to be especially vigilant, understand? There’s no telling what this new guy will be like.”

     “I heard there was a fire,” said Sloane, pulling back her long hair.

     “Gundren’s dead ?” said Killian.

     Sloane rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say he died . I said he was in a fire. I heard he was injured.”

     “Hatchi matchi, that’ll mess up your day,” said Taako.

     “Do we know anything about the new guy?” asked Carey.

     “Word is that Avi knows him,” said Lucretia.

     “If he’s Avi’s friend, then he can’t be that bad,” said Noelle. “Anyone’s better than Gundren.”

     “Weelll, I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Julia, pulling her jersey over her head. “Avi’s friends with everyone. Even Gundren.”

     “He’s already here,” said Sloane. “I saw him.”

     “Where?” Killian demanded.

     “Out back.”

     Hurley had her skates on now; she darted toward the door. “Let’s go see!”

     They caravanned out of the locker room to the rink’s back door, tucked between the regular rink and the banked derby track. Hurley got there first and poked her head outside. “Oh, yep, there he is. Where’d Avi find this guy?”

     Carey poked her head out too. “Oh my god. What a weirdo.”

     Taako stacked his head on top of Carey’s. “I dunno, he’s kinda cute.”

     “Are you looking at the same guy I am?” said Carey, backing up to look at Taako.

     “Whatever,” scoffed Taako. “You’re so gay you’d think Usher was a weirdo.”

     “All right, fine.” Carey waved Julia over. “Julia, you’re straight, what do you think?”

     They moved out of the way so Julia could see. She leaned her head against the doorframe.

     The first thing she saw was the van. It was a Dodge van from the seventies with one of those airbrush paint jobs, except instead of space or a unicorn or something, all that was on this one was a giant woodcutting ax. The back bumper was half hanging off and the whole thing was covered in dings and scratches. The side door was open, and sitting on the edge of the van in a ref’s striped shirt was a Hispanic man probably best described with the phrase “Brick Shithouse.” He was putting kneepads on.

     Julia fell away from the door snickering. “Oh my god .”

     The others took their turns. “What’s with the van?” demanded Killian. “Who drives a car like that?”

     “Maybe he lives in it,” said Carey.

     “That bumper is really dangerous,” Noelle commented.

     “All right, ladies. And Taako. That’s enough.” Lucretia herded them back toward the locker room. Julia lagged behind to get another look.

     Taako was right, he was fairly good-looking, in a professional wrestler kind of way. His hair was short but not military short, and he had overlong sideburns. His kneepads were on now, and he was struggling with the straps of an elbow pad. She looked behind him, in the van. It seemed to be full of wooden chairs.

     Julia must have made a noise or something, because he suddenly looked up.

     “Hey,” he called out, “can you hold the door?”

     Oh, goddammit, she was being creepy. Nothing for it now. She opened the door like she’d always meant to go outside. “Yeah, sure.”

     He grabbed a pair of old, dirty skates by the laces and stood up. He was beefy and tall, though not quite as tall as Killian. From here she could see a scar over one eye, which cut a notch in one of his eyebrows. “Thanks.” He paused in the doorway and stuck out a hand, which she shook. “Magnus Burnsides. You a player?”

     “Uh, yeah.” Julia tugged on her jersey. “Duh.”

     “Hm.” He frowned, just a little, and went inside. Julia realized she’d just sassed the new ref.

     Oh well. If he was anything like Gundren, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Julia ambled back to the locker room.

     Magnus settled onto the outside edge of the track with a sigh. He didn’t understand it. He’d always had good cordial relationships with players before. New town, new folks, he guessed.

     He untied his boots and started putting on his skates. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just distracted, because god , she was beautiful. The sparkle of her brown eyes, the warm sepia brown of her skin, the black floral tattoo sleeve on her upper arm, and the relative softness of her hand--relative because his own hands were like tree bark--

     “Stop,” he told himself, because of course she was hot like fresh pancakes, but he had a job to do.

     “Stop what, sir?”

     Magnus yelped and threw up his fists, but it was just a kid, hanging over the rail around the track. The kid didn’t flinch, he noticed. Magnus relaxed. “Oh. Sorry. You scared me.”

     “Sorry, sir!” He smiled. The boy had ears too big for his head, only slightly mitigated by a mess of curly black hair and a pair of glasses that looked like they were for an adult. His face was covered in freckles. “Are you the new referee?”

     “Yeah,” said Magnus, and scanned the stands. A couple of people were wandering in, but nobody close by. “Uh, are your parents here?”

     “No, I came with Killian and Carey, sir. They’re playing tonight.”

     “And they just left you out here?”

     “I can’t be in the locker room while they’re changing, sir. That would be inappropriate.” He considered Magnus carefully. “Have you been a referee before, sir?”

     “Not a head referee, but yeah,” Magnus said. The kid was cute, but Magnus had a strange feeling he was being interrogated.

     “I’m glad to hear you say that, sir! Mr. Gundren wasn’t nearly so experienced.”

     “You don’t have to call me sir, you can just call me Magnus.”

     The kid smiled again. “Nice to meet you! I’m Angus McDonald.”

     “Nice to meet you too, Angus.” Magnus finished tying up his skates. “Are you excited for the bout?”

     “Sure am, sir! The Wild Women just got a new captain, and I’m curious about whether they’ve changed their blocking strategy.”

     Magnus’ face broke into a surprised smile. “You know a lot about roller derby?”

     Angus nodded solemnly. “I come to every bout.”

     “Maybe you can be one of my volunteer refs tonight,” said Magnus, tightening the laces on his skates. He was supposed to pick two from the audience, which seemed ludicrous to him. Why wouldn’t they just hire more refs? Of course, looking at the state of this place, maybe the owner couldn’t afford it.

     “No, sir! No reffing for me, sir. I can’t skate, and anyway, Mr. Highchurch said I’m not allowed.”

     “Maybe someday, then,” said Magnus. He stood up and ruffled the kid’s hair. “If you’re here all the time, do you know who they usually pick?”

     “Avi and Mr. Boyland, sir.”

     “Hell, you know Avi? Uh--sorry. Heck.”

     “You can swear in front of me,” Angus shrugged. “I’m pretty certain everyone knows Avi, sir.”

     “Someone mention me?” Avi strolled up beside Angus, another man following behind. The other man was a white guy, and he was wearing those...surf pants? With the dropped crotch and the tight ankles. They were pink and green and yellow. And a beanie. This was in stark contrast to Avi, with his mullet and jeans and plain white t-shirt. Avi was quite a bit shorter and a shade more olive than Magnus and had finer features. Pakistani, he’d said. “Hiya, Magnus. Hey, kid, who’s the favorite tonight?”

     “The Wild Women, unfortunately,” said Angus. “I’ve heard they’re taking a pretty subtle approach this season.”

     “Hmm. Subtlety,” intoned the man with the surf pants. “Not the Bureau’s strong suit.”

     Avi nudged the man. “Optimistic as always, eh bud? Magnus, this is my roommate Johann.”

     Magnus stuck out a hand. “Pleasure.”

     Johann shook it weakly. “Is it though?”

     “Uh, yes?”

     Johann shook his head, as if disappointed. “Avi says you just moved here from Neverwinter?”

     “I did, yeah,” said Magnus. “Avi, thanks for getting me this gig.”

     “Hey, I’m glad you could do it! You’re helping the team out too. No ref means they’d have to forfeit.” Avi pulled a flask out of his back pocket. “How’s the job hunt going? Still lugging your portfolio around in your car?”

     Magnus laughed. “Afraid so.”

     Avi offered him the flask, which he accepted. “You’ll figure it out soon.”

     “Portfolio?” said Johann. “You an artist?”

     “More of a craftsman. I’m a carpenter.”

     Johann clenched his fist to his heart. “Sometimes to make the really good stuff, you gotta suffer.”

     Magnus frowned. “I’d rather have a half-assed chair and a roof over my head.”

     Avi chortled. “A chair for only half your ass?”

     “Yeah!” Magnus burst out laughing. Even Johann cracked a smile.

     “Sir, if you’re looking for a place to live, my neighbors just moved out,” Angus piped up. “The rent at Moonview is very inexpensive.”

     “Really? How inexpensive we talking?”

     Angus told him. He was impressed. “How do you know that?”

     “I balance the checkbook for my grandpa.”

     Avi spoke up. “I’m not sure, dude. Moonview’s kind of a dump.”

     “It doesn’t matter if I can’t find a job anyway,” said Magnus. “It’d just be nice to have a shower somewhere other than the YMCA.”

     “If you get too sick of it, you can shower at our place once in a while,” said Avi.

     “Thanks, man.” Mangus was touched. He’d only known Avi for a few days and already he’d shown more kindness than most of Magnus’ old friends back in Neverwinter. “Hey, Ango here says you’ve been a volunteer ref before. Would you want to do that again?”

     “I was hoping you’d ask,” said Avi.

     “Great! Um.” Magnus patted his pockets. “Merle said I was supposed to give you a whistle and a hat?”

     “I know where they are.”

     Magnus ducked under the rail of the track and carefully lowered himself to the ground. Avi waved him over to a cupboard built into the outside of the track, using the space underneath the slope of the bank.

     Magnus glided after him and crouched expertly to reach into the cupboard. “So why is everyone so down on this old ref, anyway?”

     “Who, Gundren?” Avi rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, he wasn’t a bad guy, but we’re pretty sure he forged his certification. He had no idea what he was doing.”

     Magnus handed a striped baseball cap and a whistle up to Avi, and took one more of each for the other volunteer and another whistle for himself. “That’s stupid. Why didn’t the league kick him out?”

     “It’s a small league,” Avi said. “We’re always short on refs, and players too sometimes. Last season the only reason the Bureau got to the second round of finals was because the Goldcliff Golddiggers had to forfeit.”

     Magnus nodded thoughtfully and stood. “I’m glad I know. Maybe I can help.”

     “You already are, dude,” said Avi.

     The speakers in the rink crackled to life and started playing Devo. Avi looked up. “Hey, it’s starting! Boyland should be here soon, I’ll introduce you.”

     The stands were filling up now, and Julia could feel the anticipation jumping in her gut. She and her team congregated around their bench, getting out last-minute jitters. Sloane was dabbing lavender oil on her temples. Hurley was spinning her helmet, which was emblazoned with two stickers shaped like ram’s horns, in her hands. Carey stretched. Killian stared at the floor. Noelle strapped on her arm. Taako was draped over the bench, examining his nails.

     Julia took a deep breath and listened to the crowd. God, she lived for this.

     Avi glided over to them. “What’s up, B.o.B.?”

     The team chorused hello. Julia high-fived him. “Hey, Avi, what’s happening?”

     Avi hooked a thumb over one shoulder. “The ref wants to talk to coaches and captains.”

     Julia blinked. “Why?”

     “One of those refs?” Lucretia nodded. “I’ve seen it before. Trying to get cozy with us?”

     Avi shrugged. “Ask him, I guess.”

     The two of them followed Avi to the spot between the two benches to wait for the ref. The Wild Women’s captain and coach met them on the way. Their captain smiled sweetly.

     “Well hello, Julia.”

     Julia rolled her eyes. “Lydia.”

     “Looking lovely as ever, Lucretia,” said their coach.

     “Save it, Edward,” Lucretia growled.

     “You’re not still mad at us about last season, are you?” said Edward, his tone saccharine.

     “You could have seriously injured Taako,” said Lucretia, her tone like granite.

     “That wasn’t our fault,” Edward oozed. “Just a little bad luck.”

     They were in earshot of the ref now, so they left off talking. What had he said his name was? Mango?

     “I just wanted to introduce myself,” he said, looking them all in the eye. Julia frowned. Except her? “I’m Magnus Burnsides. I expect a good clean bout. Good luck to all of you.”

     “Thank you,” said Edward, offering his hand. Magnus shook it, and then shook with Lucretia, and then Lydia. She let her hand linger and leaned in toward his face.

     “I have to say, I like a man who takes charge.”

     A puzzled look crossed his face. “Thank you.”

     “Looking forward to playing around with you,” she said.

     Julia turned on her heel and skated back to the bench. Any more and she would puke. Just like Lydia to pull something like that. If this guy was a buddy-buddy kind of ref he probably loved it.

     Julia shook her head. No more of that. Time to focus. Time for the chant.

     She took a deep breath and belted out, “Ladies, your attention please!”

     All six players looked at each other and immediately started talking over each other as obnoxiously as they could manage. Julia smiled and let them go for a few seconds before she banged her fist down on the bench, which boomed. The players quit immediately.

     “I hereby call this session to order. Who are we?”

     “THE BUREAU OF BADASS!” her players shouted back.

     “DAMN STRAIGHT. All rise for a word from the Director!”

     They leapt to their feet, hands over their hearts. Lucretia narrowed her eyes, making them wait to see what she would say this time...

     “Fuck ‘em up, girls.”

     The team dissolved in whoops and hollers. Killian started stomping the beat, and the others joined in, chanting, Who are we? The B.o.B. Who are we? The B.o.B. Who are we? The B.o.B… around them the fans started chanting too...

     Magnus watched the Bureau pumping themselves up. Avi nudged him. “Johann wrote that chant. Look at him.”

     Magnus looked; Johann had a hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes.

     “He does that every time .”

     “What a wuss,” scoffed Boyland. Boyland was short and stocky and had an army crest tattoo on his arm and the unlit nub of a cigar in his mouth. Avi had brought him over from a group of about twenty children that Avi claimed were all his.

     “Johann’s just passionate,” said Avi.

     “Speaking of passionate, was the captain of the Wild Women flirting with me just then?” asked Magnus.

     “Worked like a charm on Gundren,” said Boyland.

     “I told you, man, this isn’t exactly the big leagues.” Avi gestured to the crowd. “We love it, though.”

     He was right, because now the fans were shaking the stadium, stomping and shouting the chant. Magnus grinned. He knew how they felt.

     “Llllllaadies and gentlemen!” It was the only thing that could stop the chant, the voice of the announcer on the speakers. The rink erupted in cheers. “It’s time for the first game of the season! Please join me in welcoming...The Felicity Wild Women!”

     There were a lot of boos, but there were more cheers than he expected. Now that he was looking, he noticed a lot of fans were wearing that toxic green/hot pink combination the Wild Women were sporting. As for the Wild Women, they made a lap around the track, voguing all the way. Their costumes were unusually sparkly for derby, Magnus thought. The captain blew him a kiss.

     Yeah, okay, definitely flirting.

     “And now...your team…”

     The cheering swelled.

     “She’s the silent scourge, the omen of death...Jenicide!”

     The slimmest member of the Bureau swooped out of the center, circling the track in elegant curving swoops. She was East Asian; if Magnus was identifying the tattoo lettering on her arms correctly, Korean. She didn’t so much skate as float; she seemed to barely be touching the track.

     “She will hunt you down, dead or alive...give it up for Robocop!”

     This skater was young, with curly light brown hair that poofed out of the bottom of her helmet in a frizzy ponytail, but Magnus found himself doing a double take. Her leg was...not a leg. A prosthetic, which looked like it was built into her skate. Her arm was a prosthetic, too, and ended in a pair of grabby tongs. Despite this, she was skating backwards.

     “If you mess with her, there’ll be hell to pay...it’s Lil Diablo!”

     The skater was Latina, like him. She darted out of the center, seemed to trip--Magnus’ heart jumped into his throat--but she landed in a one-handed handstand, skates still spinning in the air, before falling back onto the track in a crouch and finishing her lap.

     “It’s the baddest little lady in the league...let’s hear it for the Battling Ram!”

     Midget wasn’t a nice word, but this skater couldn’t have been more than three foot six. She jumped onto the track, pawing the ground like an angry bull, and charged around the track, a streak of red hair and freckles around the rink.

     “Let me hear you make some noise for the most magical girl in the world...Abby Cadabra!”

     This skater did a few fancy twirls and then blew a dramatic kiss into the audience. Magnus stared at them, not quite sure if they were a man or a woman or someone else entirely. They seemed to be playing jump rope with gender roles. The screaming crowds didn’t seem to care; they were obviously a fan favorite.

     “She’s the whole package, ladies and gentlemen, and way out of your league...Beauty and the Beast!”

     A huge woman--taller than Magnus and way fitter too, with a braid as thick as a rope sprouting from her helmet--barrelled around the track, flexing the whole way. She had black geometric tattoos up her legs and one arm, the kind that looked ancient, some sort of Samoan or Hawaiian design, maybe.

     “And finally...your hero and mine, oh captain our captain...Jule! Be! Sorry!”

     The most beautiful woman Magnus had ever seen stepped onto the track and lifted her arms like a conquering empress. The crowd lost its collective mind.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, the Bureau of Badass!”

     “That’s the strangest team I’ve ever seen,” Magnus commented as the crowd went wild.

     “Wait ‘til you see them play,” grumbled Boyland.

     “I guess it’s time.” Magnus rolled into the middle of the track. Avi and Boyland took their places on either side of the gathering players. Jule Be Sorry and Lydia took their spots behind the blockers, both looking ready to kill. Magnus held up his hand, and blew the whistle. And the bout began.

Chapter Text

     Merle Highchurch hit the hot dog machine with a wrench. It shuddered and clunked to life.

     “Jeez, Merle, how do you do that?” said Robbie from behind him.

     “The grace of God, probably,” said Merle. “Now quit messing with it.”

     “Yeah okay,” said Robbie.

     “And get your elbow out of the cheese.”

     Robbie turned and pulled a gooey elbow from the big pot for the nachos. “Aw, damn. Sorry.”

     “Get ready for the rush. The bout’s about to end.” Merle hopped up and over the concessions counter and headed for the broom closet. He’d sweep out bleachers as they emptied. It seemed like the game was going well. There were asses in seats, and asses in the seats meant people were buying food. The first game of the season was always a toss-up in terms of profits, but people seemed to like the B.o.B. this year.

     The whistle blew to end the bout. The whole rink went up in cheers. Apparently the home team had won today. Dandy. He unlocked the closet and pulled out a push broom.

     Merle wandered over to the track, where the teams were lining up for high fives. He had to pay that new ref before anything else.

     “Howdy, Merle.” Boyland strolled over to stand next to him.

     “Evening. How’d the new guy do?”

     “Takes this very seriously. Maybe a little bit of a stick in the mud. Good kid, though.” Boyland moved his cigar nub from one side of his mouth to the other. “You want to do Refuge tonight?”

     “Sure, I haven’t got the kids.”

     “Well I do. Gotta take them home first.”

     “I’ll meet you there. Sweeping needs done.”

     Boyland nodded and left. Merle watched the kid, Magnus, officiating the “good game” high fives, reclaiming the whistles and hats from Boyland and Avi, and shuffling back toward the cupboard under the track. Merle met him beside the cupboard and held out a check.

     “Fifty bucks, as promised,” Merle said.

     “Thanks,” said Magnus. “I really appreciate the opportunity. Roller derby was the one thing I was gonna miss the most when I moved here.”

     “I didn’t ask for your life story, kid,” said Merle. “Next bout’s two weeks from today.”

     “You got it.” Magnus stood up, much taller than Merle. Not that that was atypical, but this kid loomed. “You know, you’ve got some warping on the underside of your track here. That could be dangerous if it gets much worse.”

     Merle frowned. “Let me see.”

     The guy pointed inside the cupboard. “There’s some bad water damage here. It doesn’t extend very far, though. I could probably fix it on the cheap, if you’ll pay for the materials too.”

     “I guess you’re just the answer to all my prayers, huh?” grumbled Merle.

     “I don’t know about that, but I’m a carpenter,” the guy said, visibly uncomfortable. “This is what I do.”

     Merle stared at the kid. He was usually pretty good at telling if someone was lying. “You trying to scam me?”

     “No, of course not,” the kid said earnestly.

     Merle relented. “Sounds pretty good, then. Why don’t you come by after free skate tomorrow? Give me an estimated cost.”

     The kid looked surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

     Boyland was right, a good kid. “Say, Gundren used to grab a drink with me and Boyland after bouts. You want to come with?”

     Magnus rubbed the back of his head. “I’d better not, I have an interview in the morning. Thanks, though.”

     Merle nodded vaguely and tottered off to sweep the bleachers.

     Refuge was warm and comfortable, all good old wood and dark green leather. Merle knew the owner, Ren, had gone traveling when she was younger in Europe and had fallen in love with the idea of a pub--not a bar, not a place to drink and pick up strangers, and not a restaurant, where you were bound to a table until the bill came, but a meeting place for a community, a low-pressure environment. It certainly was that; Merle liked it because it served good food and interesting drink.

     Merle got to Refuge before Boyland, ordered his usual, an Old Fashioned without the garnish, and sat at a table where he could people-watch. Refuge always got interesting characters, not the least of which were the derby girls. Today’s post-bout celebration consisted of an arm-wrestling contest, the big one versus three others. She was watching them, amused, as they strained against her.

     Lucretia caught his eye and nodded. He raised a glass in response. Lucretia was good people, had been one of his first employees at The Adventure Zone after he’d taken over. He suspected she could very easily murder him if the mood struck her, and sometimes he wondered why she didn’t. She cared so much about her reputation, and Merle had met her in a very dark place.

     That had all been years ago, though. Look at her now, she was a...some kind of office professional. Not slinging hot dogs at the rink, that was for sure. He knew because he’d stopped paying her.

     Boyland sat down with him with a mug of beer almost as big as his head. “Sorry to make you wait.”

     Merle waved his hand to dismiss the comment, and gestured instead to the derby girl with the arm and the leg. “What do you think about that one? Desert Storm?”

     Boyland glanced over. “Her? No. She’d’ve been in diapers.”

     Merle frowned. “Was Desert Storm that long ago?”

     “You’re getting old,” said Boyland. “The Gulf War was eight years ago.”

     Merle adjusted his own prosthetic. It was a little more subtle than the derby girl’s, ending in a plastic hand instead of a pair of tongs. A hook was an option, and he admitted that he was tempted, but mostly he wanted to be left alone about the whole thing. “Can you believe she skates on that leg, though?”

     “It’s not that leg,” said Boyland. “That clunky thing? She has a different one for skating.”

     “She does?”

     “Do you pay attention at all?”

     Merle shrugged. “They make money, that’s all I know.”

     “‘Spose you didn’t know about Mookie’s little shitshow, either.”

     Merle waved a hand. “I bet you’re going to tell me.”

     “He bit a teacher. Put a bunch of glue in her hair.”

     “That’s my little fireball, fighting the power.”

     “Don’t start with this hippie-ass crap. You didn’t know, did you?”

     “Well how the hell did you know? You been talking to Hekuba behind my back?”

     “My Rissa’s in his class. She told me. It was the biggest thing that happened at their school since a kid threw up on the merry-go-round.”

     “So not a big deal then,” said Merle, a little relieved.

     “You know, I thought so too, but apparently not.” Boyland knocked back a third of his beer. “You’d know that if you weren’t so stuck in your own ass.”

     “Aren’t we supposed to be friends?” griped Merle.

     “We’re not friends. We’re army buddies. That’s different. Means I can tell you that your hair makes you look like an elderly cult member.”

     “And I can tell you that your wife pops out kids like--”

     “Watch it,” growled Boyland.

     “...a rabbit.” Merle finished weakly.

     Boyland leaned back in his seat. “Still getting laid more than you.”

     Merle scoffed and downed the end of his drink.

Chapter Text

Was there anything worse, Magnus thought, than going into an interview with your one good shirt all wrinkled because you live in a van?

And the answer was yes. It was going into an interview with your one good shirt all wrinkled because you live in a van, and getting there late.

He pushed open the door to the bar--Refuge, it was called--and glanced around. There was nobody here except the bartender.

“Morning,” she called, and turned to face him, and Magnus’ heart dropped into his stomach. Here it was, a new horizon of worse, in which he was showing up late to an interview in a wrinkled shirt, finding not the person he was supposed to be interviewed by, but the most beautiful girl he had ever seen instead, who, if last night was any indication, seemed to actively dislike him.

He drew himself up straight. He’d had worse days, right? Right.

“Hey, you’re Jule Be Sorry,” he said.

“Around here I’m just Julia.” Her hair had been pinned up last night, but now it was only tied back in a bandana, and he could see that she had a mound of brown curls. She was holding a stack of glasses on a tray, which she put down behind the bar and started stacking. “Can I get you something?”

“Little early for a drink, isn’t it?” he said, taking a seat at the bar.

“We’re a pub, not a bar,” she said. “We’ve got food too.”

Magnus wasn’t sure what the difference was. “Oh. All right. Um. Coffee?”

“Sure.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Magnus located a neon Budweiser clock on the wall that read 10:08. Meet at Refuge at ten, the man had said on the phone. Magnus had spent the last couple of days crammed in a phone booth calling furniture makers and flooring guys and construction companies, and this guy was the first one who said he was hiring.

He drummed his fingers on the bar, trying to think of all the things he hated more than waiting. There weren’t very many.

Julia reappeared with a steaming mug and put it down in front of him. “Cream or sugar?”

“Yes please,” he said.

Her eyebrows jumped up. “I had you pegged for a black coffee kind of guy.”

“Why would I want to suffer?” he asked. It was only sort of a joke, but he saw the corner of her lip twitch before she disappeared behind the bar and reappeared with a sugar bowl and a tiny cream pitcher.

He fixed up his coffee. “So you work here?”

“Sometimes. I’m a student, too.”

“What are you studying?” Magnus asked, because that was what you asked students.

“Accounting.”

Ah, good, something so uninteresting that Magnus couldn’t think of a single follow-up question. Then again, that was probably what she wanted. He stirred his coffee and sipped it. What did you say in an interview? He hated interviews. See this chair? I made this chair. You like it? Hire me.

“Do you often wander into places just to order coffee and look nervous?”

“I’m meeting someone,” he said, glancing at the clock again. 10:11 “Or at least I was supposed to.”

She followed his gaze. “Oh. You’re the first customer we’ve had today.”

Magnus breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little. “Thank god.”

“Hot date?” she asked.

“I wish. Interview.”

The joke didn’t seem to go over as well as he hoped. She pursed her lips and took the empty tray back to the kitchen.

The bell above the door jingled, and in walked a man who oozed “craftsman.” He was wearing a dusty flannel and a cowboy hat and had a mustache you could lose a piece of pizza in. He approached the bar and stuck out his hand. “You’ll be Magnus?”

“Yes, sir.” Magnus shook.

“I’m Isaak.” He took a seat next to him and put his hat down on the bar. “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Julia appeared. “Hey, can I get you something?”

“Coffee’d be treat. Is Ren back there?”

“Yeah, she’s doing the books.”

“Tell her I said hello.”

“I will.” Julia smiled at Isaak and left for the kitchen. God, was that her smile? It was beautiful.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Magnus, I hate interviews,” said Isaak. “You said on the phone you’ve got some examples of your work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some chairs I made out in my car,” he said.

“Then let’s see those.” Isaak pulled a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and put it on the counter. “Lead on.”

Magnus hopped off the stool and strode out of the bar. Yeah, this wasn’t so bad after all.

Julia came out of the kitchen with another cup and was greeted with an empty bar and a five-dollar bill. She set down the cup of coffee with a glare. The money was from Isaak, that she knew. He did this fairly regularly, show up to meet someone, order something small, and give her a fiver whether or not he ate or drank it. This Magnus guy, on the other hand, had just skipped out on his bill.

Julia rolled her eyes. What a jerk.

Chapter Text

     “Oh my god, it’s him. He’s here. ” Taako said, immediately getting an iron grip on Julia’s forearm.

     “Who-ow, ow, nails. Nails!” Julia pulled her arm free and checked to see if Taako had broken the skin.

     “Oh, sorry,” he said distractedly looking back at the crowded stands. The Goldcliff Golddiggers were short a player, and the teams had decided to play with only four blockers a jam. Julia and Taako were both on the bench this jam, while Noelle was making quick work of darting between the blockers of the Golddiggers. Lucretia was pacing back and forth, closely observing the movements of her players.

     “Who’s here?” Julia said, leaning around Taako to look into the crowd. She didn’t see anyone noteworthy. Suddenly Taako pulled her back upright.

     “No, don’t look. Then he’ll know!”

     “Taako, I don’t even know who I’m looking for.”

     “ Him!” Taako said fervently, as if that should mean something. “The guy from last season.”

     Julia scrunched her eyebrows. “You’re going to have to be more specific. You dated a lot of guys last year.”

     Taako rolled his eyes. “Four is not a lot, Miss I-haven’t-been-laid-in-two-years.”

     “Whoa, hey.” Julia recoiled, leaning back a little.

     “Sorry, I’m a little...right now…” Taako turned back to look into the stands. The crowd let out a collective ‘Ooh’ as Killian knocked two Golddiggers to the ground. “There. Right there, first row with the camera.”

     Julia looked over Taako’s shoulder and scanned through the front row. She finally saw the man Taako was talking about. He was tall, with dark skin and dreadlocks pulled back from his face. He held an expensive looking camera to his face as Noelle and the Golddigger jammer sped past. He was very handsome, to be sure, but he didn’t look especially familiar. Till it clicked.

     “Wait. That’s the guy who--”

     “Fell on the track, yeah!” they said together. Taako turned back to stare at the mystery man some more.

     “Didn’t you have to like jump over him? And you said something…” she thought for a moment. “Come with me if you want to live,” she said in a very poor impression of Taako. Taako looked back at her as the jam ended and the rest of the team came over for a quick break.

     “I’d never say anything so stupid,” he retorted.

     “So’d you get his number?”

     “Did who get who’s number?” Killian asked, slamming down on the bench next to Julia and picking up her water bottle. The rest of the team crowded around the bench and began quickly talking over each other.

     “Taako.”

     “Taako got whose number?”

     “No he didn’t.”

     “Taako didn’t what?”

     “Get someone’s number.”

     “Who’s got Taako’s number?”

     “Why is Taako giving out his number?”

     Lucretia snapped her fingers quickly, stopping the game of Telephone they were losing.

     “Hey, hey, focus. Okay, we’re only down by two and we can make that up before this first half is over. Jenicide, you gotta stay with the pack.” Sloane nodded from where she was kneeling. Hurley grabbed her shoulder comfortingly. “Abby, you’re jamming, watch out for the wall. If you’re the lead, call it when you get three points.” Taako pulled the star-emblazoned panty from Noelle’s helmet and slipped it over his own.

     “Aye, aye, Cap’n.” He saluted with a smile.

     “Alright, you got this.” The group put in their hands, “Who Are We? B.O.B.!” Julia and Noelle cheered and clapped from the bench as the rest of the team joined the Golddiggers on the track.

     “Abra-ca-look out, folks! Abby Cadabra will be jamming this jam, and when she’s on the track, you never know what to expect,” the announcer’s voice rang through the rink.

     A loud cheer came up from the stands as Taako skated over to stand next to the Goldcliff Golddigger jammer. He blew the crowd a kiss. The cheering grew even louder.

     “I love you Abby Cadabra!!” a loud shout cut through the roar.

     Taako took a deep breath as he watched the formation of the pack 30 feet ahead of him on the pivot line. The Golddiggers were already arranging themselves into that wall Lucretia warned him about. His core seemed to chatter with anticipation as Avi joined them just on the inside of the track. The first whistle sounded and the pack took off.

     To Taako, time always seemed to slow and sound seemed to dull till the moment that the second whistle blew and he took off. The other jammer tried to bump into him at the start, but Taako was too fast. The Golddigger wall was doing a pretty good job of blocking the inside of the track, so Taako swung to the outside and dodged the majority of blockers. Carey booty blocked the last blocker and Taako slipped past the group, swinging his long legs over each other as he rounded the corner.

     He quickly rounded the track and approached the pack again. He only needed to pass three blockers to get the necessary points for the B.O.B. to be tied going into the second half. However, the wall that they had been using had broken up a little bit and there wasn’t a clear path through them as he approached. Hurley held off a blocker at the furthest end of the pack, and the rest of the Golddigger blockers managed to corner Taako on the outside of the track.

     Suddenly, Sloane came sailing back on the inside. Her upheld arm caught Taako’s eye and he stepped back from the blockers. Killian, Sloane, and Carey swarmed at the Golddiggers, giving Taako just the split second he needed to dart to the inside and pass the three of them. Hurley’s blocker reached for Taako, but he slipped past as the crowd cheered.

     He tapped his hands against his hips and Magnus blew the whistle.

     “Aaaannd that’s the half folks. The Goldcliff Golddiggers with 46 and your Bureau of Badass with 47, thanks to some totally righteous jamming by Abby Cadabra!”

     Oh, that was a nice feeling.

     Now that the jam was over, Taako allowed himself a glance at The Man. He had the camera lowered and a sort of awestruck expression on his beautiful face. Taako smiled and winked at him as he skated past.

     He skated directly over to Julia, “Is he looking?”

     Julia surreptitiously looked over Taako’s shoulder; she grinned at the expression on the man’s face. “Oh, yeah. He’s totally into you.” Taako bit his lip and smiled.

     The B.o.B. maintained their lead the rest of the game, and finished 9 points ahead of the Goldcliff Golddiggers. Post game was always a busy time for the players, taking pictures with fans, working the merch tables to help keep the league afloat. Taako was doing the latter; he and Carey were manning the t-shirt table.

     The lines were always long, but by now they’d finally emptied out. A few straggling fans wandered about, chatting and making plans for the rest of the evening.

     “Man, I hope someone got footage of that jam of yours.” Carey said, putting some shirts back in a box. “You were just like ahh! And then Sloane just zoomed in, peeww, and then you were like zooop! And the crowd went wild!” She held her hands up to her mouth and imitated the roar of the crowd. “Total game changer, right there.”

     Taako smiled and laughed before turning to a customer that had walked up to the table. “Ah, yes, which one do you--” he drifted off mid-sentence as he saw who it was. “It’s you.”

     The man smiled and pulled on the strap of his messenger bag. “Hullo,” he said in a distinctly English accent. Taako’s eyebrows raised.

     “Wow, I didn’t expect you to be British.”

     “I’m...not.” he said, the accent disappearing and looking uncomfortable. “Sorry, just when I get nervous I sometimes gain an accent.”

     Carey laughed, and Taako gave her a look.

     “Oh, uhhh, I’m gonna go help Killian.” She quickly scooted away, heading towards nowhere in particular. Save maybe a good vantage point.

     “So,” the man cleared his throat. “You’re Abby Cadabra, right?”

     “Yes that’s me. Though I usually pronounce it Taako.” He held out his hand as if for a royal kiss.

     The man laughed. “Taako, got it. I’m Kravitz Sinclair.” He took Taako’s hand and gave it a business-like shake. Taako frowned a little, but brushed it away with a winning smile. “You did great in the game today. And last year too, if I remember right.”

     “Oh, thank you.”

     “No problem.” Neither said anything for a moment, looking around a little.

     “So did you want to buy a t-shirt, or could I interest you in something different, like say my phone number?” Taako gave him a lopsided grin.

     Kravitz’ eyes widened and he looked a little flustered. “Oh, um--” he started.

     “I mean, I did practically save your life last year, so at the very least you could repay me with a cup of coffee.”

     Kravitz looked down and pulled at his strap again. “Oh, well I mean, yes, but I--Just I don’t...I don’t know if it’d be right.”

     Taako blinked a few times, some very old feelings creeping to the surface. He looked away. “I see,” he said without inflection and crossing his arms.

     “No, wait.” Kravitz smacked his hand against the side of his head. “Ooh, boy. I’ve messed this all up. Uh, let me start again.” He pulled around his bag and pulled out his camera and a manila folder. “I’m a photographer- documentary mostly.” He set the camera on the table and opened the folder. Inside was a collection of black and white photographs of their roller derby league. Taako uncrossed his arms and picked up the stack of photos, looking carefully at each one. “I’ve been looking for my next story, and I think I’ve found it here at the derby, specifically, the Bureau of Badass.”

     “Don’t you have to get permission before you can start following us around?” asked Taako, only half-teasing.

     “Mrs. Moreau was my actually first contact with the league.” Taako looked up from an especially good photo of one of the Wild Women from a bout last year.

     “ Mrs. Moreau?”

     “Oh, uh, Lucretia.”

     Taako gave Kravitz an exasperated look. “I know my own coach’s last name...just didn’t know she was married,” he finished quickly. He put the photos back into a stack and handed them over to Kravitz. “Now, why does this mean that you can’t take me out for coffee?”

     “Well, just...as a documentarian I try not to interact with my subjects too much so that I don’t cause an impact on their reality. I’m here to document...not influence.”

     Taako thought about that for a minute while Kravitz packed away the camera. “Do you ever interview your subjects?”

     Kravitz nodded as he tucked the flap of his bag back over the opening. “Occasionally, yes.”

     “Perfect!” Taako quickly wrote down something on a slip of paper and held it out to Kravitz, who slowly took it. “You can interview me here tomorrow at 4.”

     Kravitz looked between the slip of paper and Taako a few times before slowly nodding and walking away. Carey instantly reappeared at his side.

     “So how’d it go? From behind the bleachers it appeared like a B+.”

     Taako slapped a hand across Carey’s shoulders. “I’ve got a date, baBY!”

Chapter Text

     Kravitz checked one more time that he had the address right. 116 8th street was what Taako had scrawled on the paper slip in almost indecipherable chicken scratch. There was a 116 above the glass door and he was definitely on 8th street. But the sign over the door gave him pause. It was a handpainted wooden sign reading The Pothead. The artist had drawn some sort of vase looking thing next to the word. Feeling like he was part of some horrible prank, Kravitz picked up his tape recorder and camera. He crossed the street and cautiously opened the door.

     A bell tinkled over the door and he looked around in shock. For a place called the Pothead, it certainly wasn’t what he expected. There were pottery wheels scattered about the large open room, and patterned pastel tile on the floor. Large wire shelves were pushed against the back wall, on which sat many pottery projects in various states of completion. A trio of older ladies turned as he walked in.

     “Oh, you must be Kravitz,” said one, stepping around a stool and surveying him through cat-eyed bejeweled glasses that made her eyes look twice as big. “I’m Joan. This is Grace and Tracy.”

     “Taako, your little friend is here!” Tracy called. She had on a sweater that had ‘My Other Car is a Ball of Yarn’ appliqued on the front and brightly colored manicured nails.

     “Just a minute,” Taako’s voice came from an open door that most likely led to the back room.

     “Though I wouldn’t call him little,” Grace muttered a little too loudly.

     The other two giggled; Joan elbowed her. “Grace!” But that only made Tracy and Grace laugh louder.

     Luckily for Kravitz, Taako appeared in the doorway. “Alright, ladies, I said you could see him and then you promised you’d leave.”

     The trio took another look at Kravitz, then stepped around him for the door, winking as they passed by.

     “See you next week, Taako, dear.” Tracy waved as they left, the bell jangling as the door shut. There wasn’t anyone else in the store.

     Despite the clay covered apron, and the fact he had a smudge of pink paint on his cheek, Taako was impeccably dressed. Dark tights, high waisted black shorts and a white top with the sleeves rolled up. Kravitz suddenly had the distinct impression that he was unwittingly on a date.

     “Hey, you can set your things down anywhere. We’ll be at those wheels by the window.” Taako gestured to the front of the store before disappearing into the back again. He returned quickly with two hunks of red clay, which he dropped onto the wheels. He snagged a bucket of water from another station and sat down. Kravitz hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, so Taako patted the stool next to him and smiled. Kravitz frowned and reluctantly sat down next to Taako, setting his things on the wide window ledge.

     “Now it’s very simple, you push the pedal to spin the wheel. Don’t make it spin too fast, and don’t let your hands get too dry.”

     “What do I make?”

     “Whatever you want.”

     Kravitz frowned at the lump of mud. He had never been very good with infinite possibilities. Nor with unscheduled plans, so he reached forward and hit record on his tape machine. “Is it okay if I record this interview?”

     “Sure thing, doll face,” Taako said, dipping his hands in water and starting his wheel.

     Taako was really revelling in how delightfully uncomfortable Kravitz looked. But he had to give it to him, the man was a trooper. Kravitz rolled up his long sleeves and Taako couldn’t tear his eyes away; he’d revealed black ink tattoos that had not been previously visible. His left arm had a geometric, futuristic design on it, but the other looked like a forest with barren trees and a flock of birds taking flight. An errant thought wondered how far the tattoos extended up his arms, but Taako quickly squashed that and focused on his clay.

     He pulled the clay up into a conical shape. Taako never decided what he would be making till he already had his hands on the clay. He’d been going through a bowl phase recently, so he hoped that it would be something different.

     “So, ah, do you work here?” Kravitz asked, mimicking Taako’s movements to not quite the same success.

     “Only on weekends. I came here all the time for quite a while just cause I find this relaxing. Last year, the owner asked if she could hire me so she didn’t have to work on Saturdays, and I was gonna be here anyway.”

     “So where do you work during the week then?”

     “Sazed’s Bakery. It’s only a couple of blocks from here.”

     “You’re a baker?”

     Taako nodded, pushing the clay down. He guessed he was making another bowl. “Was a waiter for a really long time, but finally got out of that a couple of years ago when I started at the bakery.”

     “What do you bake?”

     “Cakes mostly. Sazed handles the pastries and so on, but I’m the Master of Cakes.” He sat up a little straighter and struck a noble pose. Kravitz laughed. “What about you?”

     “What about me?”

     “How you makin’ that paper, homie? Does documentary photography pay the bills?”

     “Oh, yeah, actually. It didn’t at first, did a lot of portraiture.”

     “Senior photos?”

     “Yeah.”

     “On railroad tracks?”

     Kravitz smiled. “Yeah, so many.”

     “So what changed?”

     “Do you remember that hurricane that went through Bottlenose Cove a couple years ago?”

     Taako frowned and thought. “Vaguely.”

     “Well, I was one of the first people on the scene. I went as a volunteer and just happened to take some photos. I ended up being able to sell those to the AP and a couple other places.”

     “Wow. That’s awesome.” Taako’s lump of clay was starting to take the shape of a wide decorative bowl. Kravitz’s was a sort of smooth lump.

     “So Taako...why roller derby?” Kravitz asked, trying to pull the conversation back on track. Taako didn’t answer for a minute, staring intently at his spinning bowl. He sat back and wiped at his nose, leaving a little smudge of clay on his upper lip.

     “Because everyone needs a family,” he answered, a different tone in his voice, matter of fact and clipped. “And if I didn’t do roller derby, I wouldn’t have one.”

     Kravitz didn’t say anything, just watched Taako’s face, the invitation to elaborate hanging in the air.

     Taako glanced at Kravitz then quickly grabbed back at his bowl. “Whew, okay, you really don’t want to go there, brocephus, let me tell you that.” The languid drawl returning to his voice.

     There was now a large dent in the rim of Taako’s bowl. Great. He folded the clay back in on itself, starting over.

     “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. How about...uh...how’d you discover roller derby?”

     Taako laughed, though he wasn’t smiling. “You’re just really knocking ‘em out of the park.”

     “I’m sorr--”

     “No, no. I’m the one who wanted to be interviewed.” he said in mock exasperation, holding the back of one of his hands to his forehead. “It’s my burden to bear.” He faked a sniffle and looked to see if Kravitz was enjoying the show. But he was studying Taako, like a scientist watching a petri dish.

     Taako wetted his hands and started the wheel up again. “There was a flyer for a tournament,” he began, that clipped tone returning to his voice. “At a shelter I was...living in at the time.” He decidedly did not look at Kravitz. “Uh, it was kind of a...dark time in my life, but I went to the bout and knew immediately that when I had the money, I would do derby.” He smiled slightly. “I’ve been on the team 4 seasons now. Derby really, ah…” He paused, but nodded and continued, “It really saved me.”

     Kravitz didn’t respond right away, and Taako didn’t look up from his wheel. Taako didn’t seem to be forming it into any particular shape, just working the clay between his hands.

     “If you don’t mind me asking... what did it save you from?”

     Taako didn’t reply. It seemed like he didn’t hear the question. Kravitz almost changed the subject then Taako said, “Myself, in the end.” He let out a deep breath. “I think it’s important for people to have goals for their life beyond just survival, if their situation allows for it. Um...derby was mine.”

     Kravitz nodded and noticed that the clay in Taako’s hands was changing shape. Growing taller and rounded, probably going to be a vase.

     “Well,” Taako began, slipping back into his usual drawl. “Now that I’ve bared my soul, I have some questions of my own.” He smiled wickedly at Kravitz.

     “That seems only fair.” Kravitz braced himself for any number of questions.

     “Why’d you call Lucretia Mrs. Moreau?”

     “Oh. Um…”

     “Don’t worry, I have other more personal questions, but this kept me up all night. I gotta know.”

     Kravitz smiled. “I’ve known Lucretia for years. My mother used to be her coach.”

     “Oh, your mom did derby?”

     “Oh, no.” Kravitz seemed to pause and laugh about the idea. “No, she’d never. Doesn’t like confrontation, prefers to subtly manipulate from behind the scenes.”

     “So what did she coach Lucretia in?”

     “Figure skating.”

     Of all the things Taako thought Kravitz might say, that certainly hadn’t been on the list. Taako took a minute to factor this into what he knew about Lucretia. It illuminated a whole new side to her.

     “You didn’t know?” said Kravitz. “She was kind of a big deal for a little while, she actually qualified for the Olympics... she really never told you?”

     Taako just shook his head, staring out the front window and trying to make sense of this new information. “So wait, something must have happened. ‘Cause she’s not an Olympic athlete, she coaches roller derby and is a P.A..” He turned abruptly to Kravitz. “What happened?”

     “Look,” Kravitz began, shaking his head, “If Mrs. Moreau hasn’t told you, she has a reason. And I don’t want to overstep-”

     “Nonono, Kravitz, please, Kravitz, please, please Kravitz, for once in your life stop being such a stand up guy 100% all the time.”

     “...we’ve known each other less than 24 hours.”

     “Yeah, and I already know that you’re a Good Person, but please just tell me one thing.” Taako clasped his hands as if he was going to pray. “It’s all I want for Christmas.”

     “Alright, one.” Kravitz held up a clay covered finger.

     “Okay...I’ve known Lucretia for four years. And never once have I seen her with a spouse, heard her mention a spouse, or even seen her with a wedding ring on. So what happened?”

     Kravitz frowned, “Well...he died.”

     The word hung between them like dead weight. Taako instantly felt like he had opened a door that he wasn’t meant to.

     “Oh,” he said simply.

     “Yeah. It was pretty sudden…” Kravitz turned back to his wheel. “Anyway, if you want to know more you’ll have to talk to Mrs.--Lucretia.”

     There was silence between the pair for a few minutes. Taako’s vase was turning into quite the work of art. Kravitz’s clay was a sort of bowl/cup hybrid, not very practically shaped or masterfully done.

     “So…” Taako began, the first word almost seeming too loud in the quiet shop. “Did you do figure skating too?”

     Kravitz shook his head. “No. Mother tried, but I was never any good at it. Didn’t have the coordination.”

     “Really?”

     “Oh yeah, I was rubbish. Couldn’t even land a waltz jump.”

     Taako grinned. “And here I thought I was the idiot for not being able to do a quadruple salchow.”

     Kravitz laughed, shaking his head a little. They both turned back to their wheels, and quietly smiled to themselves.

Chapter Text

     It had been a bad week. Noelle’s project proposal was flat out rejected by the projects committee. Killian and Carey’s landlord was falsely claiming that their rent hadn’t been paid. And Sloane’s best mechanic just walked out during his shift.

     Without any of them talking about it beforehand, they all showed up at Refuge on Friday night. Julia was the first one there, she just didn’t leave after her shift was over. Lucretia showed up last, throwing her briefcase on the table and ripping off her tweed blazer.

     “Rough week?” Sloane said, holding her glass up out of the blast zone. Lucretia slammed down next to Taako and ran her hands over her short greying hair.

     “Two hours,” she growled. “He lectured me for two hours of how I should be ‘grateful zat I even have zis job,’” she said in a fairly accurate impression of her boss’s accent.

     The whole booth let out a low ‘oooo’. Taako scooched an arm around to pat her shoulder. The booth wasn’t really meant to hold 8 people, but that didn’t stop them from crowding into it anyway.

     “Some lady yelled at me cause her son apparently isn’t progressing to orange belt fast enough,” Hurley commiserated. “He’s been at the dojo for a month and is late to every practice.”

     “I forgot to put the eggs in a $2000 cake,” Taako commented as he finished his second pina colada.

     “Did it even work?” Noelle asked.

     “Nope, nope. Had to throw out 5 full sheets worth of essentially Tahitian vanilla flavored duck food. Sazed was not a happy camper.”

     “I got barfed on,” Julia said glumly, swirling the remnants of her whiskey sour in the glass.

     “Ewww. You win,” Carey said, scooting as far away as she could, which was about one inch.

     “I changed!”

     “Still…” Killian teased, also attempting to scoot away as well.

     “I’m getting a drink, anyone want another round?” Lucretia stood up. Everyone raised their hands. “Sounds about right.” She left for the bar.

     “This week could not get any worse.” Julia shook her head.

     “Careful, the universe likes to play tricks on people like us,” Taako warned. As if on cue, the door opened and in walked Avi and Johann, and they had Magnus in tow. Julia groaned and downed the rest of her drink.

     “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grumbled under her breath.

     “That’s the new ref, right?”

     “Yeah, and right out of the gate Lydia was making moves,” Julia said in a lowered voice. Avi waved when he saw the booth and started making his way over. “This guy’s no better than Gundren was--Hey Avi.”

     “Heyyy guys, room for three more?” He laughed at his own joke. The girls smiled weakly, a little bit worried that he wasn’t kidding. “Ehhh, I’m just joshing. Do you guys know Magnus? He’s new in town. And Gundren’s replacement.”

     “In more ways than one,” Julia muttered into her glass. Carey was the only one who heard her and she started laughing and choked on her drink. Julia patted her back a few times while she coughed.

     “Well, uh, Magnus, this is the B.o.B.” Avi continued, undeterred. “This is Taako, Noelle, Killian.” He pointed to each one, and then switched to the other side of the table. “And Hurley, Sloane, Carey, and, oh, you’ve already met Julia.”

     Magnus smiled and gave a small wave. Julia stared him up and down, her crappy mood and couple drinks pulling down any attempts that she might have made at civility. Plus, he still hadn’t paid his tab.

     “We’ll let you ladies-and-Taako get back to it.” He slapped hands down on Johann and Magnus’ shoulders and steered them towards the bar.

     Magnus glanced back over his shoulder at the table. If looks could kill, he mused to himself as he sat next to Avi at the bar. The B.o.B. coach was a couple of seats over; the bartender put an incredibly large glass of red wine in front of her.

     “Thanks, Ren,” she said, before drinking quite a bit of it.

     “Rough week, Lucretia?” Avi asked, leaning over the bar and grabbing a basket of chex mix.

     “You could say that,” she said, nodding to the trio. She turned and headed back for the booth. Magnus could see Julia with her head thrown back in laughter. If he was a poetic man, he probably could write a book about the way her curls moved. He turned back and picked out the rye chips from the chex mix.

     “Dude, did you like shoot Julia’s dog or something?” Avi asked.

     “So it’s not just me?”

     “Nah, man. She is not happy with you.” Avi looked over at the table. “What did you do?”

     “Hell if I know. I think I’ve said ten words to her.”

     “What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Ren said, stepping up and refilling their basket. She was a youngish black woman whose hair was straightened and pulled back in a spiky ponytail.

     “Port,” Johann said, not looking up from the notebook he was scribbling in.

     “I’ll have your cheapest beer, my fine mademoiselle. And put whatever this guy’s having on my tab,” Avi pointed to Magnus.

     “Hey, thanks man.”

     “No problem. Welcome to Refuge! When you’re here, you’re family.”

     “We’re a pub, Avi. Not Olive Garden,” Ren said, grinning.

     “I’ll have the same,” Magnus said, nodding back to Avi. Ren walked away and began pouring the drinks.

     “So you really don’t know why Julia hates your guts?”

     “Well, I’m not sure I’d go so far as ‘hates my guts’.”

     “Johann, what do you think?”

     Johann heaved a sigh and looked up from his notebook. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

     Ren returned and set down the beers and Johann’s port.

     “Ren, could you help us?” Avi asked.

     “Wait, we don’t need to--” Magnus started.

     “Friends don’t let friends be hated by other friends,” Avi assured him, putting Magnus’ beer in front of him. “Julia ...is not the biggest fan of Magnus, to put it mild sauce.”

     “Can you offer us insight into the female psyche?” Johann finished.

     Ren looked between the three of them and chuckled. “Look guys, I know I’m a bartender, but I’m not a relationship therapist. Besides, Julia hasn’t even mentioned a Magnus to me.”

     “Hey that’s a good sign.” Avi tapped Magnus’ arm and took a swig of his beer.

     “She has been grousing about this new referee though,” Ren mentioned as she walked away to tend to another customer.

     Oof. Magnus picked up the beer and took a drink. Double oof. He grimaced and looked down into the glass. “Avi, thanks for the beer, but this is terrible.”

     “Oh yeah. But it’s $4, soo,” he shrugged and took another large swig. “The key is to drink it fast, cause once it’s room temperature it is literally undrinkable.”

     “Pretty sure it’s undrinkable now.” Magnus looked over as Taako and Carey were snickering by the juke box. They slipped in a couple of quarters and pushed their selection, high fiving with devious smiles on their faces. Suddenly a loud song came over the speakers.

“ Yoooo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)

I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah.”

     Taako and Carey immediately started dancing and singing along, each taking a part in the song. They knew all the words, and even had a couple coordinated moves. They waved over to the rest of the team still in their seats in the booth, though they were watching with big smiles on their faces. Sloane hopped to her feet and joined Taako and Carey on the floor as the first verse began.

“If you want my future, forget my past

If you wanna get with me, better make it fast

Now don't go wasting my precious time

Get your act together we could be just fine.”

     As she sang and danced along, Sloane pulled a pin out of her bun and her hair tumbled down, dark and wavy and almost to her waist. Sloane held a hand out for a blushing Hurley, who took it and the two began dancing together. Hurley laughed as Sloane dipped her.

“I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)

I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah”

     Killian was deeper in the booth than Noelle, so she ended up pushing her out onto the impromptu dance floor as she got up. Killian immediately joined in the dancing, surprisingly light on her feet for her stature, but Noelle stood awkwardly to the side for a minute. Till Taako hip bumped her and Noelle smiled, starting a small dance and quietly singing the echoes.

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends

Make it last forever, friendship never ends

If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give

Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.”

     As the next verse began, Julia and Lucretia were the only ones left in the booth. They watched as the rest of the team grooved around in the small space they’d cleared between tables. The group on the floor kept waving the two of them over, but neither made any move to get up.

“Oh, what do you think about that

Now you know how I feel

Say, you can handle my love, are you for real

I won't be hasty, I'll give you a try

If you really bug me then I'll say goodbye.”

     Suddenly, when the chorus began, Julia jumped up on the seat of the booth, singing along with the song. The rest of the team cheered and Julia hopped down to the ground, throwing her arms up and swaying her hips to the beat. Magnus watched her movements; she looked just as home out there as she did on the track, whipping her dark curls around and smiling cheesily at Noelle. She was breezy, languid. Free.

“Yo I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)

I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah.

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends

Make it last forever, friendship never ends

If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give

Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.”

     Rolling her eyes, Lucretia stood up and joined the team on the impromptu floor. She hip bumped Carey and Taako grabbed her hand, giving her a twirl. She laughed and her arms moved effortlessly moved in a complicated pattern across her body as she swayed to the beat. All the other people in the pub tolerated the song and the ruckus, but Magnus watched, entranced and not even just with Julia. He felt like a kid with his nose pressed up to the glass at a candy store. He longed to be a part of their fun.

Chapter Text

     Johann blinked a couple times, and then rested an unsteady hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “Do you ever think about Beethoven and cry?”

     Magnus laughed. “Not usually.”

     “Oh god, don’t get him started,” chuckled Avi.

     It was sometime around ten now, and Johann was already plastered. He ran his hands through his very deliberate Leo Dicaprio ‘do. “Ohhhh man. Oh man. Shit, man. Beethoven. Guy was deaf, right? Deaf . Writes some of the best music there ever was and he can’t even hear people play it.” He tapped his temple. “He hears it all in his head.”

     A ruckus over at the B.o.B.’s table drew Magnus’ attention; most of the ladies were saying good night and leaving, including Julia. Magnus made himself stop watching them. “That, uh, kinda sucks.”

     “Nah, it’s the artistry, man! The musicality!”

     “I swear you make most of these words up,” said Avi.

     “Hey, fellas. Mind if we join you?” Taako swaggered over, somehow managing to look like David Beckham, complete with frosted tips, despite being skinnier, swarthier, and gap-toothed. Killian loomed behind.

     “Please do,” said Avi. “Johann’s just talking about Beethoven.”

     “Oh, do you know the story of his ninth symphony?” asked Taako, sliding onto a stool beside Avi, while Killian took the one by Magnus.

     Johann slouched toward Taako. “No.”

     “Yeah, it was crazy, my dude. He was onstage after the performance, right, turned toward the orchestra, and the audience was losing their fuckin’ minds about it, right, but he couldn’t hear.” Taako took a sip of what looked like a piña colada. “So the mezzo-soprano soloist had to turn him around so he could see how much they loved him.”

     “ Oh god .” Johann laid his head down on the bar and sobbed.

     Avi patted him on the shoulder. Taako hid an impish smile.

     “Now how’d you know that?” asked Killian suspiciously.

     “Please, Killian, I’m a man of culture .”

     “Well I’m a woman of tequila. Ren?”

     Avi stood up, one hand still on Johann’s back. “Do you need to go outside for a bit? Get some fresh air?”

     Johann blubbed something unintelligible. Avi helped him away from the bar, whispering to Magnus, “We’ll be right back.”

     Magnus wondered if he should start a conversation, but Taako beat him to it.

     “So Magnus, we’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

     “We’ve noticed some things,” said Killian. “We thought you should be aware of--oh, thank you, Ren--some facts of life?” She waved her shot glass as if it were a decanter of the finest wine.

     “Uhh...what do you mean?” Magnus huddled into his shoulders.

     “We saw the way you were looking at us dancing,” said Killian, leaning in close, shaking some salt onto the webbing between her thumb and pointer finger.

     Magnus leaned back. “Oh...oh! No, shit, no, I wasn’t trying to be creepy.”

     “Somehow you managed,” said Taako.

     “Who did you have your eye on, hmm? I swear to god, if you say Noelle, I’ll end you.”

     Magnus gulped. He was pretty sure Killian could rip him in half. “Look, you all just looked like you were having fun. It was fun to watch.”

     Killian eyeballed him. She licked the salt, drank her shot, and popped a lime wedge into her mouth, never moving her gaze, and placed the glass carefully on the table.

     Magnus was suitably intimidated.

     She took the lime wedge out of her mouth. “Taako? What do you think?”

     “Hard to say,” said Taako.

     “Look, I don’t know what I did to make you guys mistrust me so much,” Magnus blustered. “I’m sorry I stared. I’m new here, I don’t have many friends.”

     “You won’t make any more if you keep flirting with players,” said Killian.

     Magnus paused. “You mean the captain of the Wild Women? No, she flirted with me. I’m not into that. It’s bad sportsmanship.”

     Taako took the last drink of his piña colada and raised an eyebrow. “I notice you’re wearing the same pair of shorts as you were during the bout.”

     Magnus shifted uncomfortably. There was only so much laundry you could do in a van. They’d passed the sniff test. “Yeah? What about it?”

     “So if we were to search your pockets, we wouldn’t find a scrap of napkin with her number on it?” Taako put down his glass and moved into the seat next to Magnus.

     Magnus was getting tired of this. He slid off his stool and turned out his pockets, revealing his wallet, the van’s keys, and sawdusty lint.

     Killian and Taako exchanged a glance. “Passable,” Taako decided, and patted the seat to invite Magnus back up.

     “Are you done interrogating me?” asked Magnus.

     “We’ll say yes for now,” said Taako.

     “Hey Ren?” said Killian. “Can I get this man a better beer than the swill Avi’s been feeding him?”

     “Sure thing,” said Ren, ducking away to grab a mug.

     Reluctantly, Magnus took his seat again. He admitted to himself that if some random guy was staring at his friends, he’d probably do the same thing. “You’re really protective over each other.”

     Taako shrugged noncommittally, as if he hadn’t just hosted a minor inquisition.

     “We have to be,” said Killian. “Some men are weird about derby girls.”

     “I can’t see why,” said Magnus. “Four of you are pretty clearly taken.”

     Killian raised her eyebrows. Taako looked impressed. “No wait,” he said, “this is a fun game, which four?”

     Again Magnus felt like someone was putting the screws to him. “Uh, Sloane and Hurley? Right? They’re together.”

     “Correct,” said Taako. “And?”

     Magnus gestured to Killian. “You and Carey?”

     Killian smiled. “Isn’t she great?”

     “No one ever guesses Carey,” said Taako.

     Magnus frowned. He tapped his own shoulder. “She’s got that tattoo. Two female symbols interlocking.”

     “Right, you’d think between that and the butch haircut and the flannel it’d be obvious, right?” said Taako.

     “She thinks it’s a spicy Latina thing,” said Killian.

     “My cousin gets the same thing,” said Magnus.

     Ren appeared with a beer, for which Magnus thanked her, and then thanked Killian once he’d tasted it.

     “So Neverwinter, huh?” said Taako. “Why would you move to a podunk place like this?”

     “It’s not podunk,” protested Killian.

     “Two movie theaters does not a city make, Miss Priss,” said Taako. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s home, but it’s like the moon out here. Devoid of life.”

     “I uh, was trying to get away from some… trouble.”

     “What, do you owe someone money?” asked Killian.

     “No, there was this gangbanger I pissed off in my old neighborhood. Got him thrown in jail.”

     “Hatchi matchi,” said Taako.

     “Yeah, his friends weren’t too pleased with me.” Magnus took a long swig of beer. “I needed a change of scenery anyway.”

     Avi and Johann reappeared, taking the seats next to Taako. Johann leaned over and wrapped Taako up in a hug. “You’re so great, man. Like. So great.”

     Taako looked as though he were suffering rigor mortis. “My fella, I’m gonna ask you once to stop.”

     Johann dragged himself off and wandered over to the piano in the corner. He started playing a very pleasant jazz riff.

     “Maybe you two can tell us why Julia hates Magnus,” said Avi.

     “Just a misunderstanding, I think,” said Killian. “She thinks he’s another Gundren.”

     “Gundren wasn’t so bad,” Avi said.

     “Come on , Avi,” scoffed Killian.

      Avi put up his hands. “Fine, fine. He wasn’t great. But Magnus, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good guy.”

     Magnus was touched. “Thank you.”

     “Oh, this reminds me,” said Killian. “I have to tell you about the moron I was training at the gym the other day.”

     As Killian launched into her story, Magnus relaxed.

Chapter Text

“So you’re telling me he’s cool?’

Killian shrugged and opened the door to the stairwell. “That’s what I’m telling you. Magnus is cool.”

“Not a douche,” said Carey, tapping down the stairs.

“If he was, he wouldn’t have seen the plain fact that you and I are gay as hell.”

“Huh.” Carey hopped onto the bannister, slid to the next landing, and opened the door for Killian. “So then why was he staring at us dancing?”

“He’s just lonely. Thanks, babe.” Killian shuffled down the hall, carrying both their skate bags in one hand and holding Carey’s hand with the other. “It takes time to make friends.”

“He’s lucky Avi found him first, then,” said Carey. “Plenty of friends, in no time.” She paused, mid-step. “Did I turn off the stove?”

“No, but I did,” said Killian.

“You’re so good.” Carey narrowed her eyes at Killian, hiding a smile. “Almost too good.”

Killian kissed her on the top of the head. “Anything interesting come in the shop today?”

“A woman tried to pawn a cheese slicer. Said it was a rare artifact from some island somewhere.” Carey snorted. “I almost felt bad for her.”

Killian laughed. They stopped in front of a door marked 344, and Carey knocked.

Angus opened the door and hopped outside. “Hello, Miss Carey and Miss Killian!”

Carey mussed his hair. “Hey, buddy. You’ve got popcorn kernels in your teeth.”

He sucked noisily at his teeth. “That’ll be on account of the popcorn I had for dinner.”

Killian groaned. “You had popcorn for dinner?”

“It was all that was left. Grandpa said he’ll bring something home this morning.”

“Goddammit, old man!” Carey shouted.

“Please don’t talk that way about my grandpa, Miss Carey,” Angus pleaded. “It’s really much better here than the group home.”

Killian placed a hand on Carey’s shoulder. “Anger later. Angus now.”

Carey sighed. “Yeah. Angus, do you want a sandwich?”

“But we’ll be late for practice!” said Angus.

“Not if we hurry. I’ll race you up to our place! Ready-set-go!”

Angus bolted, laughing, with Carey close behind. Killian followed at a walk, suppressing a sigh. Angus’ grandfather had taken him in a couple years ago after there were allegations of abuse at the group foster home Angus had been staying in. The old man barely had a paycheck from a night watchman job and was slowly losing his memory. Normally he wouldn’t be considered an appropriate guardian, but blood relatives were given preference, and the system here was already overwhelmed with kids, and Angus was just on the cusp of the time when any older meant “unadoptable,” and on, and on, and on.

So they tried to help out when they could. The old man wouldn’t let Angus spend the night while he was at work, but they could at least watch him in the evenings. They’d talked about taking him in themselves, but it was hard enough for lesbians to adopt kids, much less minimally employed lesbians, one of whom had a brief but inescapable criminal record.

It got Killian’s blood boiling, that was for sure. Life wasn’t fair.

She relaxed a fist she didn’t know she was making. She should take her own advice. Anger later. Angus now. They had a practice to get to.

Carey pulled neatly into a parking space behind the rink and looked up. “Huh. What are they doing?”

Lucretia, Noelle, and Julia were waiting by the back door. Lucretia was wiggling a key in the lock.

The three of them unbuckled and got out of the car. Killian called, “What’s happening?”

“Merle said the rink was closed for the evening, but that we could still practice,” said Julia. “Except that his stupid key won’t work.”

“C’mon, you cheap-ass dwarf, don’t tell me you gave me the wrong key,” grumbled Lucretia.

“Have you called him yet?” asked Killian.

“That’s what Sloane and Hurley are doing,” Julia answered.

“Here they come now,” said Noelle.

They rattled up in Sloane’s Frankenstein junker. Hurley jumped out of the car, still wearing her gi. “No good,” she said. “He’s not answering.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Taako, who came stalking around the side of the building. “His daughter’s in a play. It’s not like he’s got a cellular. No other doors or windows open, Coach.”

Lucretia pulled the key out of the lock and threw it on the ground. “Dammit Merle.”

Sloane and Hurley had joined them now. “So what now,” said Hurley, “we just cancel practice?”

Carey bounced on her toes. “No, wait. I’ve got it. Sloane, do you have a bobby pin?”

Sloane pulled a pin from her hair and handed it over. A few black strands fell out of her bun.

Carey knelt down in front of the lock. “I’m a little rusty on this, but we’re not exactly breaking Fort Knox here.” She stuck the pin into the lock, feeling around carefully.

“You can pick locks, Miss Carey?” asked Angus.

She paused. Very gently, she took Angus by one shoulder and pivoted him so he was facing away. “Yes. I used to do it a lot. And then I got thrown in juvie.” She went back to work. “Don’t do crime, Angus.”

“Okay, Miss Carey.” He stared dutifully at the side of the building.

“I mean it. Ever.”

“I understand, Miss Carey.”

The lock clicked, and Carey pulled open the door. “Here we go.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Nice job.”

“Thanks, Carey.”

Killian squeezed her. “That’s so sexy.”

Carey grinned. “Thanks, babe.” She noticed Angus watching. “But illegal. Very illegal.”

“Oh, of course.” Killian rested her arm on Carey’s shoulders and, together, they walked into practice.

Chapter Text

     “Why does Merle have so much Gloria Estefan in his pre-game playlist?” Noelle asked, as she and Julia skated through the lobby.

     “I think he used to have a crush on her,” Julia snickered as Get on Your Feet came over the speakers.

     The lobby was beginning to crowd with people. A group of fans waved at Julia and Noelle, holding signs and wearing the electric blue of the team. The concessions stand already had a line forming and Robbie was running between stations like a madman. The pair skated over to the water fountain by the door, Julia bent down to fill her water bottle. Noelle leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and surveying the crowd.

     “There’s a lot of Robes fans here,” she said quietly, her eyes darting between groups dressed in red. Julia looked over her shoulder.

     “Eh, it’s early yet. Our fans aren’t very punctual.” She grinned as she spun the lid on her bottle. They traded bottles, and Julia began to fill Noelle’s. “Hey, how’d that project of yours turn out?”

     “Which one? The lunar mining one?”

     “Yeah...I think.”

     “Pretty good. We’re still troubleshooting right now. The problem is the code.” Julia stood up and they began to skate back to the track, dodging around fans and spectators. “For some reason the programming is telling it to drive in circles, and--”

     “Well, well, well. If it isn’t a couple of B.o.B. star players.” Julia and Noelle stopped skating; they both recognized that voice. “Though I suppose it’s not hard to be the best when the whole team is garbage.”

     They turned around to see Lup, team captain of the Rad Robes, flanked by a couple of her cronies. Lup was several inches taller than Noelle, and was all olive-toned skin and hard-packed sleek muscle. She bore an eerie resemblance to Taako, though he always insisted that he couldn’t see it. She put her hands on her narrow hips and smirked.

     “Really? Trash talk?” Julia retorted, crossing her arms. Most of the time a little trash talk wasn’t a big deal, but there was something about the Rad Robes, and Lup in particular, that just set her off. “You’re about as classy as that rat’s nest you call hair.”

     Lup stopped smirking and her cronies exchanged a glance.

     Noelle started to edge away. “Uhh, Julia, maybe we should…”

     Suddenly, Julia felt a hand on her shoulder; Lucretia had skated up with Hurley in tow.

     “Sour Scream, excellent to see you, as always.” She nodded at Lup and maintained a placid expression. “I look forward to a good bout today. But I’m afraid my captain doesn’t have time for pleasantries--”

     “Hey Lucretia,” Lup interrupted, that smirk returning to her face. It was echoed by her buddies. “Uh, my teammates and I were just wondering if you found it as funny as we do that you’re now a has-been in two different sports?”

     Julia made to step forward, but Lucretia’s grip tightened on her shoulder. Hurley was getting the same treatment, but was trying to pull herself free, one finger pointing at Lup’s nostrils. “Hey, why don’t you shut the hell up?”

     “Uh, Magnus?” Avi asked, the straw from his juice box still in his mouth.

     Magnus didn’t look up from where he was bent over, adjusting the laces on his skates before he put them on. “Yeah?”

     “There seems to be a storm a-brewin’ on the horizon.”

     “What?” Magnus sat up to look at Avi. Avi gestured with the box towards the lobby. A circular group was starting to form near the foosball tables.

     “Ooh, it’s been awhile since we’ve had a fight,” Boyland commented. Magnus groaned and rolled his eyes, but got up to go over and break it up. It always seemed so useless when players would fight during the bout. No one ever accomplished anything, except bruising each other’s egos.

     “Ladies, ladies, let’s break it up,” he said, pushing his way through the gathered spectators and standing beside the shouting players. He was surprised to find Julia at the center, and the way her eyes were alight with fury made his gut flip-flop.

     “Ref?” the Rad Robes captain, Lup he thought her name was, raised a finger up. “We were wondering if the Bureau would have to forfeit this bout?”

     “On what grounds?” he asked, though he felt like it was playing right into her hand.

     “They don’t have a full team,” she simpered, her mouth curled into a cruel smile. “Considering they’re missing a quarter of one player,” she looked pointedly at Noelle, “and about half of another,” her gaze turned to Hurley.

     “Oh, FUCK NO.”

     Lup abruptly disappeared from vision; Julia tackled her to the ground. It took everyone a second to realize what had happened, and in the meantime Julia did not so much punch as clobber Lup’s face.

     The crowd started yelling and pushing in. Magnus grabbed her wrist. Julia wrenched out of Magnus’ grip and swung again. Lup was screaming and blood gushed out of her nose, her arms flailing.

     Magnus locked his arms around Julia’s waist and hauled her up off of Lup. The crowd backed away as he turned--Julia was kicking, still trying to break free. He threw her over one shoulder, and the crowd parted in front of him.

     “LET ME GO!” she roared. God, she was strong; she almost got out of his grasp a couple of times. She kept up a steady string of insults against Lup, and a couple for Magnus, up until Magnus kicked open the locker room door and dropped Julia unceremoniously on the floor. Lucretia was close behind.

     “You’re out of the game.” Magnus said flatly. Julia reacted like he had tossed a bucket of cold water on her.

     “ What ?”

     “No, please, I know she--” Lucretia skated around between the two of them.

     “No! It’s the league rules. She assaulted another player, technically she assaulted a ref, I’d be within rights to ban her for the rest of the season.”

     “But she was goaded! You heard what Lup was saying about Hurley and Noelle!”

     “And she said a lot more before you finally got there, ref !” Julia added harshly. Lucretia shot her a sharp look and Julia looked down at the ground.

     “I know.” Magnus looked between the pair, feeling conflicted. “And that’s why she’s only out this bout.” He wanted to say something more, about how he would have done the same thing in her situation. But it didn’t seem fair, so he just said, “Don’t let it happen again,” and left the locker room.

     The door clicked shut, and Julia looked at Lucretia. She didn’t turn around, just pinched the bridge of her nose and took several deep breaths.

     Neither of them said anything for a minute. Finally Lucretia let out a breath.

     “You realize that you did exactly what the Rad Robes wanted you to do, right?” She turned and looked at Julia, her gaze like a punch to the gut. “Without you, this game is going to be much easier for them to win.”

     Julia opened her mouth to retort, but she realized that she was right.

     “You’re a good player, Julia. But you’ve got to start thinking a couple steps ahead, or it’s going to be your downfall.” And she left Julia alone.

     After checking that Merle had someone on lobby clean up, Magnus returned to where he’d left his skates. He pulled harshly at the laces and jammed his foot into the boot. He wasn’t sure why he was angry. He was just doing his job. Yeah, Lup had been a bully, and she definitely deserved the broken nose Julia had given her. But it still didn’t feel right to kick Julia out of the game.

     “Did you see her? Wham! Bam! K.O.,” Avi said returning to the ref’s bench with Boyland.

     “Sour Scream never even had a chance,” Boyland laughed.

     “It’s crazy how much she and Taako look alike,” Avi said, looking back at the group of Rad Robe players.

     “Right now, she looks more like a Jackson Pollock painting than anything else.”

     “Hey, good work, breaking up the fight,” Avi said, elbowing Magnus’ side. “Gundren would usually let them go a few rounds before he’d intervene.”

     “You suspend Jule Be Sorry?” Boyland asked.

     Magnus nodded, switching to the other skate. When he didn’t say anything, Boyland and Avi looked at each other.

     “Hey, don’t feel bad, man,” Avi said. “It’s our job, we gotta enforce the rules. The players know that.”

     He was right, Magnus shouldn’t feel this way. So why did he?

     The door to the Bureau’s locker room banged open and out stalked Julia, back in her street clothes, dragging her skate bag behind her and making a beeline for the door. She looked about two words away from punching someone else, but Magnus got up and skated over to her.

     “Julia, I just wanted--” he started, stopping at her side. She blew right past him, heading for the door.

     He watched her go a ways, wondering if he should give it up. But no, this was important.

     He ended up having to go outside to catch up with her, skates rattling on the rough asphalt, but managed to reach out and touch her arm. “Julia, wait.”

     “What?” she snapped, turning around to look at him, her jaw tensed. Some part of him realized that this may not have been a great idea.

     “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t want to kick you out, but the rules are--”

     “Why are you telling me this?” she replied tersely.

     Magnus blinked and looked away. Why was he telling her this? Why was he so compelled to convince her that he wasn’t a bad guy? Why?

     When he didn’t reply, Julia rolled her eyes and pulled her arm out of his grasp. Magnus watched her get into her car and speed away, the realization dawning on him as his fingers felt like they were on fire from where they had touched her skin. He stood there, frozen, watching her car disappear around a corner.

     After a minute, the door opened behind him.

     “Hey, boss? You ready to start the bout?” Avi asked.

     “Yeah.” Magnus blinked a few times, as if breaking the spell. “Yeah, let’s go.” Mentally he shoved those thoughts in a box and sealed it shut. He wanted to be a good ref, and a good ref was impartial and balanced. He would deal with this later.

Chapter Text

     Julia ground her teeth and fumed as she drove down the country highway. Her radio was off and all her windows rolled down, the wind tangling her hair. She snapped her headlights on as the sun finally dipped below the treeline, casting the road in shadows. It had been several hours since she’d been ejected from the game, and she’d been driving the entire time. She’d initially headed for her apartment, but arrived there far too soon. So she headed for her dad’s, but he’d known she had a bout and would want to know why she wasn’t there, so she drove past. The whole town seemed too small, so she left city limits.

     Neighborhoods turned to industrial districts turned to farms turned to just countryside. She hadn’t seen a car for several miles, and finally she began to breathe a little easier. Not that she wasn’t mad, oh no, she had a list. Enemy number one was definitely Lup. That smug bitch deserved more than what Julia had been able to get in before she was so rudely interrupted by enemy number two. Where did that bastard Magnus get off? Flirting with Lydia, and now defending Lup. She gripped the wheel a little harder and went a little faster down the two-lane road.

     Yes, she was fighting. And yes, technically , fighting was not allowed in the league bylaws. And yes, the punishment for fighting was expulsion... But she was still mad!

     Her attention was drawn away from figuring out the scathing remarks she could make about Magnus when her little old car sputtered, shook, and started decelerating.

     “Oh, no,” she whispered, pressing on the gas pedal. “Nonono, please.” The car moved forward, but she watched in horror as the speedometer continued to drop. As it reached zero, she turned off to the side of the road and came to a shuddering stop. She stared catatonic as a few moths lazily buzzed through the glare of her headlights, the realization of her colossal stupidity welling up through the floorboards. With a groan, she slumped forward, her forehead on the horn. The sound echoed across empty fields.

     She stayed like that for several minutes, trying to come to terms with everything but failing. Eventually, she sat back up and turned the car off. With the headlights extinguished, the true dark of the countryside came crashing in. She waited for a minute, half-way hoping that a car would magically appear on the road.

     Taking her keys with her, she got out of the car and looked up and down the road. There was no one. From how clearly she could see the stars in the sky, she realized just how far from civilization she had driven.

     “Okay,” she said out loud, finding that talking to herself was sort of comforting. Her breath left little puffs of fog in the night air. “Okay, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” She looked back up and down the dark empty road again, her minimal comfort evaporating. The memory of the time Carey made her go see Scream three summers ago suddenly jumped to mind.

     “Goddammit, Carey.” She clenched her fists and jumped up and down a few times, trying to shake the memory away.

     She paced across the road a few times, debating whether it would be better to wait with the car or try to walk to somewhere with a payphone. The very very empty road, and the completely rational thought that there might be a crazy serial killer in the ditch, made her choice for her. She grabbed her purse, jacket, and after a moment’s thought, grabbed her wrist guards. She set off down the road, strapping her guards on. If she had to punch for her life, she wasn’t going to sprain her wrist doing it. Besides, she was fairly sure that she was only a few miles out from Wave Echo, or at least she hoped she was.

     “This hour of music has been brought to you by the Foundation for Ali Forney Centers, dedicated to providing homes and help to LGBT youth. Next up is Stuart Weisman with another hour of jazz-”

     Magnus leaned forward and snapped the car radio off. For some reason he was only able to pick up the public radio station, and a man can only handle so much smooth jazz in one sitting. He still had another hour of driving before he got to the hotel Isaak had put him up in. Magnus yawned a little and shook his head, forcing himself to keep vigilant. It was hard on the dark country roads, no other cars in sight. Just the hum of the road, whistle of the wind, and whatever music he chose to put on. And right now his choices were public radio or the Kool & The Gang cassette that had been stuck in the deck for the past four months. So Magnus chose silence.

     But in the silence, his mind wandered back over the events of the day. The rest of the bout had been fine; the Rad Robes had taken the Bureau to the cleaners. The team seemed really off their game after the fight and subsequent ejection of their captain. Magnus let out a long breath. He’d done a good job of boxing up those feelings… till now.

     ‘Why are you telling me this?’ her voice echoed in his mind. He gripped the steering wheel and gritted his teeth a little, edging his van left as he passed an abandoned car at the side of the road. He knew why, a small part reminded him, but the much larger part wasn’t quite ready to open that door. He was afraid if he did, he wouldn’t be able to close it again.

     He’d been in love once before, or at least he was pretty sure he had, and it had seemed as if his world surrounded her. If he opened this door, everything would be Julia. Every song, every movie, every person he saw on the street would be Julia.

     Wait.

     Magnus slammed on the brakes, his van coming to a screeching halt in the empty road. He looked into the sideview mirror; surely it was just a coincidence that that hitchhiker looked like…

     “Julia?” he called, shifting the van into park and leaning out the driver’s window. Many yards back, dimly lit by the brake lights was a figure. He got out of the van but stood by the driver’s side door, ready to jump back in if the situation went south. The figure jogged a few yards forward and Magnus was glad that he wasn’t hallucinating hitchhikers in the form of Julia. But now worried that it was actually Julia.

     Julia, on the other hand, wondered what she had done to accrue such bad karma. She’d been pleading internally for help, any help, for the past 30 minutes. Now she had half a mind to just keep walking past Magnus and his stupid airbrushed van. Safety be damned. Magnus walked to the back end of the van, the red brake lights giving him a sort of devilish halo. She sighed, and waved, not taking her hand out of the pocket of her jacket.

     “Hi, Magnus,” she said, dejectedly, not walking forward.

     “What are you doing out here?”

     “Fishing for lake trout,” she replied, sarcastically. Magnus frowned, and stopped walking towards her, standing a few feet away.

     “Do… you need a ride somewhere?”

     God, there he went again with the stupid questions. “Oh, no. The magical taxi that I called on my non-existent cellular phone should be here any minute.”

     Magnus stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, see you at the next bout.” He turned and started walking back towards his van. She let him go a few steps to see how committed he was to his bit, but when he opened the driver’s side door, a panic quickly overwhelmed her.

     “No, wait, WAIT!” she yelled, running a few steps forward. She ran her hands over her hair and blew out a huff. “My car ran out of gas. I just need a lift to the nearest payphone.” Magnus didn’t reply, so she added, “Please.”

     He turned back to look at her and waved her over with his chin. “Get in,” he said, jumping up into the cab. Julia quickly ran around to the other side of the car and hopped in before he could change his mind.

     Neither of them said anything for the first few miles. Julia was very grateful to be going faster than a snail’s pace again, even if it took enemy number two and his weird spaceship van to do it. She surveyed the interior. There was the usual: fast food wrappers, Walmart bags, skate gear. Also, the very unusual: stacks of wooden planks, a dress shirt on a hanger. She wasn’t entirely sure in the dark cabin, but it seemed like there was a fish tank installed in the front dashboard. She almost asked him about it, but decided not to out of principle.

     She then noticed that she still had on her wrist guards; great, he probably thought she was weird now. She tried to surreptitiously pull them off, but the velcro gave her away.

     “May I ask why you’re wearing your wrist guards?”

     Julia frowned. “I was worried about… serial killers,” she said quietly.

     “What?”

     She pursed her lips and quickly said, “I was worried about serial killers.”

     “Serial killers?” Magnus repeated, a smile in his voice. “You realize that you were in more danger from deer than from Freddy Krueger?”

     “Look, when you’re alone on an empty country road with no phone and no gas in your car, logic is not the foremost thing on your brain.”

     “So what was your plan with Ghostface? Gonna give him the ol’ 1, 2?” Magnus punched the air a little and laughed, looking over at her. Julia looked out the window and didn’t reply. “Hey come on… sorry. I’m sorry. But you gotta admit, that’s a terrible plan.”

     Julia looked back at him. “It would have worked,” she insisted.

     “Right. If it’s you and your wrist guards against Jason, my money’s going to be on Jason.”

     “Of course I’m not going to win against Jason, no one can win against Jason. But I could totally take your garden variety serial killer.”

     “Well, if the state of Lup’s face is anything to go on--” Magnus immediately stopped, the grin disappeared, and he turned abruptly towards the front again. Julia looked down at her wrist guards clutched in her lap. Another mile dragged by in agonizing silence.

     “Was it bad?” Julia asked quietly.

     Magnus nodded. “You broke her nose. She didn’t skate the whole bout.”

     Julia couldn’t help but feel a little pleased. “Good.”

     Magnus glanced at her. “Bureau still lost though. 119 to 57.”

     She frowned, avoiding his gaze. “...I don’t usually… it’s just, there’s just something about her that makes me...” she shook her head. “Not that it matters now. I let the team down.” She propped her elbow on the windowsill and rested her head in her hand.

     Magnus glanced at her. “Yeah, you did.”

     “Wow, thanks.”

     “Now, let me finish. I may not know you and your team all that well. But even still I know that you guys love and support each other...” He searched for the right word. “...Fiercely. More than any other team I’ve seen. You’re like a family. And family supports, protects, and even fights for each other, despite what the league bylaws say. They’ll forgive you.” Julia looked over at him and he smiled a little.

     Julia nodded slowly. “You know you’re very wise for a person who still drives a ‘77 Dodge.”

     “Hey, if you’re gonna knock Rail Splitter, I will pull over and you can walk the rest of the way to Wave Echo.”

     Julia chuckled a little. “Sorry, sorry. But just a quick question, what is this?” She tapped the glass of the tank in the dashboard.

     “It’s a fish tank.”

     “Oh. Of course it is, how silly of me.” She leaned forward and peered into the dark water. “Seems to be lacking in fish… did a shark eat them?”

     “Since it’s a tank, wouldn’t I be able to see a shark?”

     “...It’s a glass shark. He ate all the fish.”

     Magnus chuckled. “Damn, those lil suckers didn’t have a chance.”

     “So besides the glass shark, what got them?”

     “I ran into some issues with climate control last winter.” He grimaced and shook his head. Julia actually laughed at that. “It’s not funny, I felt really bad about that.”

     “I’m sorry, but what did you think was going to happen? It’s a van, not a house.”

     “I just needed a couple more hot water bottles and then it totally would have worked.”

     “Right, sure. You’ll have a fish tank in your dashboard, and I’ll fight off the Zodiac Killer with my wrist guards.”

     Magnus grinned, then looked at Julia and made a mock tough face. “You could take him.”

Chapter Text

     “So why are you all the way out here?” Julia asked, unbuckling her seat belt. She pulled on the handle to the door, but it didn’t open.

     “Oh, yeah, hold on. That’s busted.” Magnus slammed the driver door shut and jogged around to the other side of the van. He opened the door and held out his hand to help her down. She took it and hopped to the ground, reaching back for her purse and slipping it over her shoulder.

     “My boss has me working a job here in Wave Echo this week,” Magnus explained, his hands shoved in his coat pockets as the pair walked towards the front door.

     They had stopped at the first open place they found, which turned out to be a 24-hour diner just outside of Wave Echo city limits. It was a small, greasy spoon type place, and the whole building was shaped like a felled log for some reason. The bell over the door rang as Magnus and Julia entered; there was only one other customer and a very sleepy looking skeleton crew. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” played quietly over tinny speakers. Julia quickly headed off to the payphone by the bathrooms, and Magnus lumbered into one of the booths against the front wall.

     The phone was ancient, the coin slots marked for dimes and nickels. Julia fished a handful of change from her purse and stacked it on the shelf. She slipped in a few dimes, picked up the receiver, and reached out to press in a phone number, but paused. Who should she call?

     She didn’t want to call her dad because then she’d have to explain the whole fight story, plus running out of gas in the middle of nowhere, and he’d feel the need to lecture about responsibility and that wouldn’t do either of them any good. Lucretia would usually have been next, but Julia felt like she shouldn’t be asking her for any favors after the game. So she punched in Taako’s number. It rang a few times.

     “Come on, come on, Taako. Pick up,” she said under her breath.

     “Hey champ, you’ve reached Chez del Taako. I’m not here right now, but if you leave--” Taako’s answering machine came on after a couple rings. Julia hung up and the dime clattered into the coin tray. She picked it up and tried Killian and Carey’s number. She let the phone ring for a couple minutes, but it became increasingly obvious that no one was coming to the phone. She tried Sloane next, then Hurley, and finally Noelle. No one picked up. She put the receiver back and glanced at the Ovaltine clock above the door. 11:21, it said. Maybe they were all still out after the game. She quickly dialed in another number; it rang twice.

     “Refuge Pub, this is Ren speaking.” There was loud music in the background of the call. At least someone was enjoying Karaoke Saturdays.

     “Ren? It’s Julia.”

     “Oh, hey girl, I heard about the game. Tough luck.”

     “Yeah.” Julia rubbed the back of her neck. “Hey listen, is any of the B.o.B. there? Anyone?”

     “Lemme check.” Julia drummed her fingers on the coin shelf till Ren returned. “Nope, sorry. They were here earlier but they must have left.”

     “Really? I tried their houses…”

     “You okay?”

     “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just trying to find a ride. If I can’t find one by last call, I’ll call you back.”

     “Okay, let me know.”

     “Alright, bye.” Julia hung up the phone glumly. She picked up her small stack of change and went to sit in the booth with Magnus.

     “You get ahold of anyone?” he asked, putting the menu down. Two brown plastic glasses of water had appeared on the table while she’d been at the phone. Julia shook her head.

     “No, they’re out somewhere. I’ll give it 30 minutes then try again. Maybe someone will be home by then.” Magnus nodded and picked back up the menu, perusing its limited offerings. “Thanks for the ride, but you don’t have to wait with me. You’ve probably got an early start tomorrow.”

     Magnus frowned, “No, I’ll wait with you. It’s not a problem.”

     Just then the waitress walked up. “What can I get for you?” she said in a disinterested tone, pulling the pencil from behind her ear.

     Magnus smiled winningly up at her. “I would like the Lumberjack Special with scrambled eggs, please, Hannah.” He nodded to her nametag.

     The waitress scribbled it down and looked at Julia. She glanced at the menu in a panic. “Uh… I’ll… I’ll have the same.”

     The waitress grabbed the menus and turned on her heel for the window to the kitchen.

     “What did I just order?” Julia asked, leaning forward a little.

     “Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and four slices of toast. All for $3.99.”

     Julia nodded, “That actually sounds amazing. I haven’t eaten since before the bout.” She took a sip of her water, distant noises of cooking drifting out of the kitchen. “So what kind of job? Like…” she paused. “What do you even do?”

     “I’m a carpenter.”

     “Really? That’s still a thing?”

     “Yes, in a way. Isaak, the guy I work for, he does more contracting, but I do the woodwork.”

     Julia nodded. “So you’re… carpenter-ing something in Wave Echo?”

     Magnus chuckled at the word ‘carpentering’. “Basically, yes. The country club on Wave Echo Lake is building a new restaurant-clubhouse thing. They need wainscoting in every room apparently.”

     “Well, long-time members Brenda and Glenn Jones will accept nothing but the best,” Julia said in a jokingly posh manner, leaning forward on the table with her arms crossed. “After all, they have a reputation to uphold.”

     “Exactly. Though I’m not complaining, hotels are fun to stay in and I’ll be right by the lake.”

     “Sounds nice, kind of like a half-vacation.”

     “Yeah.”

     Julia looked out the window as a semi drove past. “My dad and I used to come up to Wave Echo lake. One of his bosses had a house and would let him borrow his fishing boat occasionally. We’d leave our house before dawn and be on the lake all day. Never really caught anything at all.” Julia smiled a little, turning back to look at Magnus. “And Mom would literally hose us off in the backyard when we’d get back, claiming we still smelled like fish and lake water.”

     Magnus was interrupted when the waitress returned with their orders. The plates took up most of the table, and everything smelled mouth-wateringly delicious. He quickly dug into the stack of pancakes.

     “Now I realized something while you were at the phone,” Magnus said around a mouthful. “If your car just ran out of gas, we could get one of those little portable tank things and I could take you back to your car.”

     “Oh… well…” Julia shook her head. “I mean, we’d have to find one of those things at midnight in Wave Echo , and then it’s an hour back to my car, and you’d have to drive another hour back here. I don’t want to put you out like that.”

     Magnus looked at her for a moment. “But you’d put one of your teammates out like that?”

     “Well, yeah, they’re my friends.” Julia took another bite of bacon, before she realized what she had implied. Magnus wasn’t looking at her anymore. “Shit.” The waitress stared daggers at Julia from behind the counter. “I mean, I just know them--”

     “No, no. I get it.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I did eject you from a game just this afternoon. It’s fine.”

     It was very obviously Not Fine. Julia sighed and shrugged. “Well, there is that, but that’s not even the problem.”

     “What is the problem?” Magnus said, a sudden intensity in his gaze that snapped to her face. “Because it really feels like you’ve had something against me since the moment we met. And if there’s something wrong, I’m the kind of person that likes to right it. What, did you really like the old ref or something?”

     Julia scoffed. “Gundren? God, no. He was terrible.”

     “Is it something I said? Did I look at you weird?”

     “No,” Julia said, rolling her eyes a little.

     “So what is it? What’s your problem with me?” Both of their tempers were starting to simmer.

     “Gundren was a total slimeball, and when you first came I thought you were exactly like him,” Julia snapped, leaning forward in her seat.

     “Well, I’m not.”

     “I know that!”

     “Good!”

     “Fine!”

     They both sat back in the booth and realized that they had an audience. The waitress was actively leaning across the counter in rapt attention. Julia went back to silently eating, but Magnus wasn’t satisfied.

     “But you still have a problem. And it’s not just ‘cause Gundren was a jerk,” he said, low enough that the whole diner wouldn’t hear.  

     “Fine, it is because you are the ref,” Julia said, matching his volume but her tone sharper. “And frankly, being friends with the ref has always seemed like a real dick move in my book.”

     “That’s ridiculous. I was friends with players at my old league.”

     “Yeah, well, that league is not this league.”

     “Well, maybe you need to give people a chance!”

     “Maybe you need to stop living in the past!”

     The audience was back. This time both Magnus and Julia turned back to their food. The rest of the meal was spent in silence. When she finished, Julia scooted out of the booth and headed back for the payphone.

     She dropped two dimes into the slot and punched in Taako’s number. Her foot tapped rapidly on the floor. The phone rang four times, then, miraculously, he picked up.

     “Yello?” Taako drawled.

     “Taako? Oh, thank god. It’s Jules.”

     “Hey, slugger. Where you been? We missed you tonight.”

     “I’m… stuck, Taako. I need a favor, a pretty big one.”

     “Ooh, I could always use a pretty big favor from my dear friend Julia.”

     “Ah, nooo. This would be in repayment for last summer’s JNCO debacle.” Taako didn’t say anything. It was so quiet that Julia wondered if she’d been disconnected. “Taako?”

     “We both said we’d never speak of that again.”

     “Uh, you said that, I said no such thing.”

     “My word is law, Jules, everyone knows this.” He sighed dramatically, but she could hear his smile. “Fine. What do you need?”

     “I need a ride. My car ran out of gas.”

     “Oh, sure. No problem, I can leave right now. Where are you?”

     Julia paused and screwed her eyes shut. “Wave Echo.”

     “Did you just say Wave Echo? Julia, that’s like two and half hours away.”

     “I know.”

     “Julia, it’s past midnight!”

     “I knowww. I’m sorry. That’s why it’s JNCO scale.”

     “Were you angry driving?”

     “...Yes.”

     “You gotta start doing that in city limits, babe.”

     “Yeah, someday I’ll learn. I’m sorry.”

     “Where are you right now?”

     “That diner that’s shaped like a log.”

     “Listen, would you be okay staying there till morning? I have to work tomorrow, so I can’t spend 5 hours driving to the ends of the earth and back tonight. But I’m delivering a cake for a retirement party at the Wave Echo country club tomorrow at eleven.”

     Julia sighed, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

     “Did you call Lucretia? She’s probably still awake.”

     “I can’t call her, Taako,” she said in a small voice. “Not after the stunt I pulled at the bout.”

     “That’s true. I’m so mad I missed it. Hurley did a particularly vivid reenactment during half-time though. She might have a future in show business.”

     Julia smiled a little. A voice on the phone informed her that she only had 30 seconds remaining on her call. “Hey, I gotta go. But you can’t miss the diner, on the left as you hit city limits.”

     “Okay, see you in the morning.”

     Julia hung up the phone and paced a little bit. She didn’t want to head back into the seating area and face Magnus again, not when she knew that he was right. She sighed and waited another minute before leaving the small alcove, making sure that she at least wasn’t going to bite his head off again since she wasn’t quite ready to make nice.

     Magnus was at the counter, paying the bill. He was groping around in the pockets of his cargo shorts for the tip.

     “Here, let me.” Julia pulled out her wallet and put a couple of bills down on the counter. The waitress took the money but didn’t walk away, obviously wondering what other juicy details she could get from the mysterious couple.

     Magnus walked towards the door, and turned to face Julia. “So it looked like you were able to get ahold of someone,” he said, not really looking at her. She nodded.

     “Uh, yeah. Taako is going to pick me up here tomorrow morning.”

     Magnus looked back at her. “Tomorrow morning?”

     “Yeah, he has to deliver some cake to the country club tomorrow, so we’ll get it all sorted then.”

     “What are you going to do in the meantime?” His dark brows furrowed.

     She shrugged. “Wait here, I guess. I don’t have any other choice.”

     Magnus’ jaw flexed a few times: he seemed to be weighing some options. But he finally said, “Look, Isaak put me up in a motel for the week. It was really cheap, and they probably still have vacancies. I can give you a ride over there so you can get some sleep. And then,” he shrugged, “if you want you can come with me to the country club tomorrow and meet Taako there.”

     Julia’s first instinct was to be suspicious of how nice he was. But she beat that back and simply nodded. “That… would be really nice. Thank you.” She looked cautiously up at him.

     He nodded matter-of-factly. “You’re welcome.”

     The motel had obviously been built, like the rest of Wave Echo, during a long since past heyday. A very overdone nautical theme decorated the room, complete with a water bed for some godforsaken reason. But it was still better than a diner booth all night.

     In the morning, she still felt like she needed to make amends, so when Magnus arrived at his van, she was already there with two cups of coffee in hand.

     “Morning,” he said, his eyes squinted in the early morning sunshine.

     “Morning,” she held out the cup. “Two creams, and sugar, right?”

     He took the cup and smiled a little. “Thanks.” They both took a sip of their coffee and Magnus immediately grimaced. “Ugh, no. No, no.”

     Julia looked up at him. “What?”

     “Uh, thanks for the coffee, but this is terrible.”

     “It is?” she took another sip. “Tastes fine to me.” Magnus blinked at her. Twice. He poured the coffee into a nearby sewer grate and then tossed the cup in the trash.

     “You deserve better coffee. But we gotta get going.” He opened the door for her, and then headed around to the other side of the van. Julia finished her coffee as they pulled into the country club.

     Manicured lawns and tanned people in linen slacks surrounded them. Everything was Greek revival, and simply reeked of old money. Julia felt very conspicuous in her slept in jeans, old derby bout t-shirt and leather jacket. Not even taking into account the very obvious racial divide.

     “You ever forget how rich other people are?” Magnus asked as he parked his van next to a Land Rover. Julia slowly nodded. A man in a tux at eight in the morning scurried out of the main building and informed them that they’d need to move their vehicle. They ended up parking under some tall pine trees right next to the restaurant under construction.

     Magnus set up shop on the back porch of the restaurant, pulling large planks of walnut from the back of his van, and Julia decided to take a walk by the lake. She had all morning to kill so she wasn’t especially speedy about it.

     She returned back to the restaurant after a couple hours. The sun had fully risen and the day was quickly turning into a warm one for March. Julia had shed her jacket, not caring the looks she got.

     She watched a very shirtless Magnus exit the building through one of the open French doors. He whipped a tape measure off his belt and quickly measured a plank of wood standing on some saw horses. He marked the measurement with the pencil from behind his ear, then he took it over to the miter saw he had set up a few feet away.

     What was that phrase from that movie she had watched with Angus? Oh, right. Rippling pectorals. Mentally she kicked herself. Stop being gross. Magnus looked up from his work and waved her over. Great, he caught her staring. Again. As she walked over, she noticed that in addition to the muscles and the classic Americana tattoos, he had several scars, long, lighter colored slashes on his sides. She wondered what they had come from. Magnus picked up a rag and wiped the sweat from his face.

    “It’s gonna be a hot one,” he said, taking a breath and tucking the rag back into one of his pockets. Julia nodded, not quite sure what to say. She turned to look out at the vista so she would stop looking at the many glistening facets of Magnus. “You want something to drink?”

     “Uh, sure.” She took the water bottle he was offering. As they looked out at the lake, a flock of birds took off and swooped against the blue sky. “It’s like a postcard.”

     “Yeah, wouldn’t mind having a view like this someday,” he said, looking at her. But she didn’t notice. “So, what you been doing?”

     “Oh, just walking. Scaring old people playing golf, you know. The usual.” She smiled up at him. Then the smile disappeared; she bit the inside of her lip and looked away. “Magnus, you were right.” Magnus looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed again. She sighed and looked back to him. “About… how I treated you. I never gave you a chance to prove yourself as someone different than Gundren, and then you did anyway, and… I was just being stubborn. I’m sorry, and I hope that you’ll forgive me.”

     Magnus smiled, and nodded. “Of course.” He took another sip of water. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

     Julia pretended to think for a moment. “Well, you have been carting me all over hill and dale today, so I guess so.” She smirked at him, a teasing twinkle in her eye.

     Just then she saw another van roll up the long driveway, “Sazed’s Bakery” emblazoned on the side, and a Brandy song blasting out of the open windows. It pulled up in front of the main entrance, and the song suddenly stopped. Taako hopped out, looking very professional in checkered pants and chef’s jacket, though he still wore his round iridescent blue sunglasses. He quickly gave some directions to a couple of the staff that came out, then headed over towards Julia and Magnus.

     “Well, I guess that’s my ride.” Julia took a few steps. “Thanks, Magnus, you… you really helped me out. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

     “Hey, what are friends for?” He grinned.

     Julia smiled and nodded. “Right. See you later.” She turned and went to meet Taako. Taako flicked down his shades, and gave Magnus a wink and a finger gun before turning to walk back with Julia towards the van, which was surrounded by club staff.

     “I see you got my note at the diner,” Julia said.

     “You didn’t tell me you were with Magnus,” Taako said in an accusatory tone once they were out of earshot.

     “Yes, I did.”

     “No, you didn’t.” Taako shook his head, pushing his shades back up his nose and surveying the staff. “Hey,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at a suddenly very frightened staffer. “You drop that cake, you owe me $1200.”

     “Yes, sir!” The staffer carefully scurried away.

     “Anyway, you did not tell me you were with Magnus.”

     “Oh, well, he found me at the side of the road, he really helped me out.”

     “Plus, he’s pretty easy on the eyes.” Taako smirked at Julia, quirking an eyebrow.

     “Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes.

     “Oh, come on. I know your type, sweet cheeks.” He looked back over his shoulder where Magnus had returned to work in the distance. “And he is one prime specimen of Your Type.”

     “It’s not like that. We kept fighting all night, but... I think we’re friends now.”

     “Mhmm.” Taako smirked a little, going around to shut the van door now that the cake had been safely delivered. “Think what you want to think, but I better be goddamn invited to your wedding.”

     “If you keep making jokes about it, you won’t be.” She walked around to the passenger door and jumped into the van. Taako got into the driver’s seat and started it up. The Brandy song immediately resumed at deafening levels.

     “I changed my mind. I want to be wedding coordinator,” he said over the song, pulling away. “I like being in charge.”

Chapter Text

     Magnus whistled as he drove through the rain. It’d been a good week’s work, and he’d given Isaak’s card to a few folks, too, with his name written on the back of it. Rich people loved handmade furniture.

     He rolled back into town. It was late afternoon, so people were out and about despite the rain. He took a sharp right, laughing when a couple of kids in raincoats fled from the splash.

     Where should he park the van tonight? He usually put it in an empty lot by the train tracks, but it had a really bright streetlight nearby that made it hard to sleep. Maybe he could hang up some kind of blanket fort.

     He paused in that line of thought. On the sidewalk just ahead--was that Carey?

     She wasn’t wearing a coat, just a t-shirt. She was hunched over a backpack, hugging it close to herself, short hair plastered to her forehead. Magnus pulled up beside her, reached over the passenger seat, and cranked open the window.

     “Hey, do you need a ride?” he said.

     She raised an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t heard? Drowned Rat is the new look.”

     Magnus chuckled. “Well like, I don’t want to get in the way of fashion.”

     “Ah, what the hell.” She yanked open the door and plopped her backpack on the floor of the passenger side.

     Magnus fished a towel from the back. “Sorry, it’s kinda… covered in sawdust.”

     She took it anyway and rubbed off her face and head. “I’m dusty from work anyway.”

     “Where we headed?”

     “Ugh, other side of town. Sorry.” She buckled her seatbelt and rolled up the window. “You know where Moonview is?”

     “Yeah, it’s cool. It’s not like there’s going to be a lot of traffic.”

     Carey snapped her fingers. “Right, Killian said you moved here from Neverwinter.”

     Magnus laughed. “It’s actually kind of nice when across town means fifteen minutes no matter which way you go.”

     “For sure.” Carey held up the towel. “What should I…”

     “Oh, just toss it in the back.”

     Carey did so. She spent a moment observing the back’s contents, and then knocked on the empty fishtank. “What’s this for?”

     “Fish.”

     “Why, though?” She picked at the seal around the tank. “Is this from a glue gun?”

     “I just wanted some company. It didn’t work, though. Lost a lot of good fish.”

     “Their sacrifices will not be forgotten,” said Carey.

     Magnus glanced over at his passenger. He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not. “How’d you get caught out in the rain?”

     “Eh, I walk home most days. I didn’t know it was going to rain. I ought to sue the weatherman.”

     “Across town’s a long way to walk,” Magnus commented.

     “Well, sometimes I skate.”

     It was still something like five miles, Magnus didn’t say. He got the feeling that Carey and Killian didn’t have much. They fell into silence.

     Magnus took a left, and immediately ran into what was considered around here to be a traffic jam. Six cars were ahead of him, all waiting behind the flashing lights and striped arm of a railroad crossing. A train was passing through.

     “Aw, man,” he said.

     Carey leaned back and rested her feet on the dashboard. “Might as well get comfortable. We have to cross to get there.”

     He pulled up the emergency brake. “At least you don’t have to wait in the rain.”

     “Yeah, as far as I’m concerned, this is a good day.” She spotted something in the door of the passenger side; it was his tape collection in a clear plastic case, unopened for months. “We could put on some music. What do you got?”

     Magnus sighed. “Don’t even bother. The same tape’s been stuck in my radio since September.”

     Carey took her feet off the dash and started fiddling with the tape deck. “Has it?”

     “‘Fraid so. You know any good radio stations around here?”

     “The local station’s pretty good after like, 3 p.m. The DJ does a country music hour that most people like. Lasts ‘til seven or so.”

     “A four hour hour?”

     She laughed. “Pretty much, yeah.”

     “I don’t know, I’m not a big country fan. Especially not the newer stuff.”

     “Ha! It’s a local station, you think they play anything new?” She clicked a button or two on the deck, but Kool and the Gang refused to budge. “There’s also an okay Spanish station, in case you’re feeling nostalgic.”

     “Oh, god, with the oompa music?”

     “Yeah, that good polka rhythm!”

     Magnus laughed. “I’ll remember that if I ever feel like blasting my neighbors’ party music at two in the morning. Why is it always two in the morning?”

     “Oh my god, we must have somehow lived next to the same people,” said Carey. She was sticking her fingers in the slot now.

     “Did you grow up in Neverwinter too?”

     “Nah, I’ve been here my whole life. My party neighbors were next to… let’s call it my childhood home.” With a clunk , the cassette slid free of the deck. Carey pulled it out, trailing a little tape behind it. “Voila!”

     “Holy shit .” He took it from her. “This goddamn thing has been stuck in there for so long . I just figured it was my life now.”

     She grinned. “Glad to be of assistance. I may have messed it up though.”

     “I don’t care. I don’t ever want to hear ‘Celebrate’ ever again,” he said. “How’d you do that?”

     She pulled the tape case from the passenger door and popped open the latches. “I have a very specific set of skills left over from some stuff I did as a teenager. Now what do we have here?”

     Magnus took the pencil that was still behind his ear and used it to reel in the tape. “I’ve got some good stuff in there. None of this new crap.”

     “Good stuff, huh? I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s see, Earth Wind & Fire? Sure, who doesn’t like ‘September.’ KC and the Sunshine Band… Lipps Inc… Isley Brothers… Stevie Wonder… the Bee Gees… Stevie Ray Vaughan… Derek and the Dominos… Parliament Funkadelic… Cream… Led Zeppelin… more Kool and the Gang.” She shot him a look. “Somebody likes the seventies. And disco.”

     “Disco’s great,” said Magnus, sliding the tape into a space beside Grand Funk Railroad.

     “Listen, you’re preaching to the choir here, I’m just saying that some people think it’s a major character flaw.” She picked up a tape and slid it in the deck. The end of “Las Vegas Turnaround” played. “You don’t like any new music? What about like, Indigo Girls?”

     “Who are they?”

     “Who are they,” she scoffed. “Indie rock.”

     “You mean punk’s ugly stepsister?” said Magnus.

     “Ohoho! You want to take this outside, my man?”

     Magnus grinned. “Yeah, let’s fight in front of a train.”

     Carey laughed. “You know, I like you. Killian said you were cool.”

     “She did? I didn’t think you guys liked me very much.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Especially since I threw out your team captain?”

     “Rules is rules,” said Carey. She put on a smug smile. “It was almost worth losing just to see the look on Lup’s face.”

     The song ended and another one came on with a quiet steady beat. Carey looked at the radio. “Oh hell yes, I love this song.”

     “You sing?” asked Magnus.

     “Not well…”

     “C’mon, sing it with me. Hall to my Oates.”

     Carey chuckled. “Well, if I get to be Hall.”

     “Yeah!” said Magnus, and sang along with the tape:

Everybody's high on consolation

Everybody's trying to tell me

What is right for me, yeah

My daddy tried to bore me with a sermon

But it's plain to see that they can't comfort me

     “Now you,” he said, and Carey jumped in:

Sorry, Charlie, for the imposition

I think I got it (got it added Magnus ),

I got the strength to carry on, oh yeah

I need a drink and a quick decision

Now it's up to me, ooooh what will be .

     She was at least karaoke good. “Yeah! Get it!” said Magnus, and they sang the next bit together:

She's gone, she's gone

Oh I, oh I

I better learn how to face it

She's gone, she's gone

Oh I, oh I

I'd pay the devil to replace her

She's gone, and she's gone

Oh why, what went wrong?

     “Why the hell are you going for the high part?” laughed Carey.

     “It’s the music in my soul!”

     “Oh, hey, look,” said Carey. The train rattled away, and the striped arm began to lift.

     “Sweet,” said Magnus, putting the van back into gear. “Must be convenient, not changing the pronouns for songs by guys.”

     “So you change the pronouns for songs by girls?” asked Carey.

     Magnus considered. “No, but when I don’t most people just think it’s funny.”

     Carey scowled. “When I don’t change pronouns people think I’m being cute.”

     “I bet Killian thinks it’s cute,” Magnus offered.

     Carey’s scowl fell into a smile. “Fine, cheer me up.”

     “How long have you guys been together?”

     “Five years. God, I love her.”

     Magnus smiled. Was there anything better than people in love?

     His thoughts tried to drift over to Julia. He pulled them back in.

     “So Julia says you’re a carpenter,” said Carey.

     Goddamn, had she read his mind? “Yeah, that’s right.”

     “You know those um… what are they called. Puzzle boxes? You ever made one of those?”

     “Yeah, I’ve made a couple. They’re a lot of fun.”

     “All right, riddle me this: is it possible to make one in the shape of a duck?”

     Magnus laughed, but stopped when he saw she was serious. “Uh yeah. It’d take some tricky design work, maybe, but I don’t see why not.”

     “I was afraid of that,” mumbled Carey.

     “Wait, what?”

     “You ever think of the most perfect present ever?” said Carey. “Killian’s birthday is coming up--and you know, she’s so good, she’ll like whatever I get her, but a duck-shaped puzzle box would be the best . But I’m pretty sure I can’t afford that shit.”

     “I could make you one,” said Magnus.

     “Yeah okay, for how much?”

     Magnus shrugged. “Make me an offer. I have enough scrap wood to make a small one just out of the stuff in this van.”

     “Hmm.” Carey rubbed her chin. “You live in this van, correct?”

     Magnus bristled. “Did Avi tell you that?”

     “It’s not that hard to extrapolate, hombre . No shame. But why?”

     He set his jaw. “Up until a couple weeks ago, I didn’t have a job. It was cheap.”

     “I’m serious, no shame. Relax.”

     He tried his best. “Now, though, I just can’t find a place. Apartments are in high demand around here. Angus said there was an opening at your complex, right? But when I went and asked about it, the landlord said they were full up.”

     “I mean, that could just be him being a dick, but I wouldn’t be surprised. It is a college town.” She thought for a moment. “All right, you tell me if this is a fair trade for a puzzle box. I happen to have an in at a complex called Raven’s Roost. I know the super, and he’s always got a few extra places open, but he’s an absolute dinosaur when it comes to advertising them. I could send you his way.”

     “Hell, that’d be--”

     “Before you say yes,” she said. “I cannot stress enough how crappy Raven’s Roost is. It’s falling apart in a big way. But the rent is the cheapest in town.”

     Magnus shrugged. “You know what? That sounds good to me. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He extended a hand.

     “Hell yeah!” She shook it. “This is going to be the best present ever.”

Chapter Text

     “All right, all right, line up, everyone,” said Hurley to the half-dozen tumbling gradeschoolers. They scurried into a line, some of them taller than her, wearing borrowed gi and tousled from practice. “Judo is about respect, and about wisdom. After every practice, you are to bow to and thank the master. Like this.” She demonstrated. “Now you.”

     “Thank you, Master Hurley,” they chorused.

     “You’re dismissed,” she said. The line dissolved as the kiddos went to the bathrooms to change.

     Hurley strolled into the waiting room, where a few parents were doing some paperwork. Let’s see. Six parents, but two of them looked married. That was disappointing; this was a free beginner’s class, and parents were more likely to sign up if they saw what their kids were learning. The parents said hello, turned in paperwork, asked questions about billing and belts, while the kids filed out and they began to leave. As she suspected, there was one left, a tiny towheaded girl. She didn’t seem overly concerned.

     “Your name is Kaitlyn, right?” asked Hurley.

     The girl nodded.

     “Do you know who’s picking you up?”

     “My dad. He’s coming.”

     As if summoned, a man who barely fit through the door carefully entered the dojo. He was the biggest person she’d ever seen, bigger than Killian. Hurley tried to stand up straighter.

     “Daddy!” said the girl.

     “Hi, Pumpkin. Did you learn a lot?”

     “Mmhmm.”

     “She did very well, especially for her first time,” said Hurley. “Would you demonstrate, Kaitlyn?”

     The little girl smiled and put down her backpack. She fell forward, rolled, and landed back on her feet.

     The man nodded. “That’s very good.”

     “Are you interested in signing up for a class?” asked Hurley hopefully.

     “With respect, Miss…”

     “Master Hurley,” she said, before he could patronize her any more. With respect .

     “Right. Master Hurley. If I wanted her to go to a tumbling class, we could try the recreation center. I think we’ll pass.”

     “Awww, dad!” protested Kaitlyn.

     “If I may, sir? Would you join me on the mat?” Hurley gestured through the waiting room.

     He frowned. “What for?”

     “We start with falls because we do a lot of falling in this class. I want my students to be safe. But I can show you what she’ll be learning.”

     The man considered. “All right. I’ll bite.”

     She led him to a mat. Kaitlyn followed, wide-eyed.

     “Now Kaitlyn,” Hurley said, squaring up her stance, “do you think I could beat up your dad?”

     Kaitlyn giggled. “No.”

     “Why not?”

     “‘Cause he’s so big and you’re so small,” said Kaitlyn.

     “Be polite,” said the man automatically.

     “No, she’s right,” said Hurley, throwing Kaitlyn a smile. “I am really small. Now sir, if you would be so kind as to put a hand on my shoulder?”

     The man hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

     “Don’t worry, you won’t.”

     He reluctantly held out a hand.

     She took hold of his shirt and, using her leg as leverage, pulled him over her hip and to the ground before he’d touched her.

     “That’s called the harai goshi. It’s one of many techniques Kaitlyn will learn. It just takes time.”

     From the floor, a little hoarsely, the man said, “I’m convinced.”

     Hurley smiled and offered a hand, pulling him into a sitting position. “I’ll get you the paperwork.”

     In a few minutes, he was signing his name. Hurley accepted the form with a smile. “I’ll see you two next week.”

     “I’m glad someone in this town is interested in teaching girls self-defense,” said the man. “I suggested it to a committee I’m on and people laughed.”

     “The martial way is for everyone,” she said, looking over the paper. “Oh, I need your first name, sir, not just your title.”

     The man grimaced. “Captain is my first name.”

     Hurley’s eyes went huge. “ You’re Captain Captain Bain? I just turned in my application to the police training program!”

     Captain Captain Bain raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be on the lookout for it.”

     The door opened again, and Sloane entered. Hurley grinned. Good things just kept coming. “Thank you, sir.”

     Sloane waited until they left, then sauntered over and leaned down close to Hurley. “Good day?”

     “That was the chief of police,” said Hurley. She tilted her head up and stood on her toes to peck Sloane on the lips. Sloane crinkled her nose. ADORABLE. Hurley grinned. “I threw him to the ground.”

     “I thought you wanted to be a cop, not beat a cop.”

     “Cops have beats, right? I was practicing.”

     They giggled. “You ready for date night?” asked Sloane.

     “Just need to get changed.”

     “I can’t believe you bought a dress,” said Sloane in mock derision.

     “I may have modified it,” said Hurley, more than a little pleased with herself.

     “Oh, really?”

     Hurley swaggered into the Olive Garden in her new pantsuit. Sloane still hadn’t forgiven her for buying a dress, but Hurley took solace in the fact that she could feel Sloane checking out her butt.

     “Excuse me?” she said, peeking over the top of the hostess’ podium. “Table for four, for the Bureau?”

     “Oh, yes, the rest of your party has arrived.” Hurley saw the hostess’ hand hover over the kid’s menu for a split second before taking two regular ones.

     Carey and Killian were already in the booth waiting, talking about something in low voices. Carey had on a men’s suit that looked like it was from the seventies, while Killian looked like a vision in a red dress. They waved.

     “Nice suit, Hurley,” said Carey.

     Sloane sighed. “It is, isn’t it?”

     Hurley grinned.

     The waiter appeared. “Good evening, ladies. This looks like fun. Business meeting or girls’ night out?”

     “Double date,” rumbled Killian.

     The server’s smile froze. “Er. Of course! Can I get you all something to drink?”

     Hurley snorted at a particularly bad pasta pun. “Alfre-don’t get started,” she said.

     “Yeah, spaghett-er not,” replied Sloane.

     “Boo,” said Carey. “What is it with you dorks and puns?”

     “It’s called a shared interest,” said Hurley. “Like you two and your gymnastics or whatever.”

     “At least team sweet flips is good,” said Killian through a smile. “Puns are the worst. This is worse than training has-been football players.”

     “I’d think they’d be easy to train,” said Sloane.

     “No, they think they still got it,” said Killian, rolling her eyes. “They don’t. And then they spend the whole session talking about their high school glory days.”

     “What must it be like to have high school glory days?” wondered Hurley.

     “I don’t know, my high school days were fun,” said Sloane.

     “Mm, let me guess,” said Carey. “You were a big deal in shop class, because most of those boys had never even seen a girl before.”

     “Like that would have mattered to me,” scoffed Sloane. “I’ve always known who I’m into. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about school.”

     “You’re not the only criminal, Carey,” said Hurley.

     Carey was shocked. “No way. Not you.”

     Sloane shrugged, looking a little pleased with herself.

     “What was it, shoplifting?”

     “As if,” said Sloane. “Carjacking.”

     Carey smacked her palm to her forehead. “You own a garage, of course you were a carjacker.”

     “Did you ever get caught?” asked Killian.

     “No. I was lucky. And fast. No use in stealing slow cars.” She shrugged. “And you know, I never tried to sell them, I’d just ditch them somewhere.”

     “I caught you once,” said Hurley.

     “Citizens arrest doesn’t count,” said Sloane, sticking out her tongue. “And I didn’t jack that car, it was just one from the garage.”

     “You were lucky,” said Carey, picking at a breadstick. “I got another application rejected today.”

     Killian gritted her teeth. “It’s ridiculous. Why do you have to have a perfect record to work at a damn music store?”

     Hurley snorted. “Record. Music pun.”

     “I keep telling you, I’ll give you a job,” said Sloane.

     “I don’t know anything about cars,” mumbled Carey.

     Sloane hesitated. “You could do billing?”

     “No. Thank you, Sloane, but it’s really okay. At least I’ve still got the pawn shop.”

     “Okay, everyone!” The server appeared with a massive tray full of plates of pasta and began to pass them out. “Carbonara, seafood alfredo, and two ravioli with pesto.” He smiled, and leaned on his tray. “Now would you lesb--ladies like anything else?”

     “No thank you,” said Carey. The poor server looked mortified; he hurried away.

     “That poor man has never seen so many gay people in his life,” said Killian. The other three laughed.

     “A gay-splosion,” said Hurley.

     “A lesbonado,” returned Sloane.

     Carey held up her hands for silence. “A hurri-gay-ne?”

     “Oh, no, not you too,” groaned Killian, as Hurley and Sloane dissolved into giggles.

Chapter Text

     The first practice back after Julia Did a Hit, as it would come to be called, was rough for Julia. Not only was it an endurance practice, she could hardly bring herself to look Lucretia in the eye. Afterwards, she sat in the locker room, waiting for the rest of the team to leave so she could talk to Lucretia privately, while feeling both bone tired and incredibly anxious. She looked at the clock on the wall. Noelle had been the last one out, and she left over 10 minutes ago. Lucretia hadn’t come back for her purse or shoes, so she hadn’t left the building yet. Julia heaved a sigh; there was no sense in putting this off any longer. She stood up.

     Ow.

     Sitting down was not the smartest idea, as the muscles in her thighs were now complaining. Loudly. She picked up her already packed skate bag and headed for the locker room door.

     Julia always kind of liked the rink at night. The arcade was quiet and there weren’t 80s pop hits blaring from the speakers. It seemed like the place was holding its breath. She didn’t see Lucretia in the darkened lobby or flat rink, and some of the lights above the banked track were still on. It sounded like someone was casually looping around the track. Curious, Julia walked closer to the track.

     “Come on, come on. 27 in 5. You can do this.” A voice seemed to be talking to itself. Julia stopped at the very edge of the light pool, and the breath leaked out of her.

     Lucretia was crouched, like a jammer at the start of a jam. At the sound of a silent whistle, she took off, speeding around the track. Her statuesque form bent low and her face focused, determined. It had been so long since Julia had seen Lucretia on the track as anything other than a coach, she forgot how ...lethal she always looked. Her strides were long and powerful, extracting the precise amount of momentum she needed. Julia watched the clock as the five minutes ticked by, keeping tab of how many laps Lucretia did around the track. She found herself clenching her fists, enraptured and silently cheering Lucretia on. She was so close--

     But it wasn’t enough. 5 minutes arrived and Lucretia had barely made it 20 times around. She stood up and let her momentum carry her around the corner, her hands on her hips. She squatted and ended up sitting on the track, scooting another few feet before arriving at a stop. She buried her face in a hand and didn’t stand back up. Julia wavered, not sure if she should let Lucretia have some privacy. But she found herself approaching anyway.

     Lucretia looked up when Julia jumped up onto the track. She obviously hadn’t known that she had an audience. Her dark brown eyes were tinged with red and she looked down at her lap.

     “I thought everyone had gone home,” she said quietly. Julia set her bag down and dropped onto the floor next to her. “How... How much did you see?”

     “All of it.” Julia looked up at the ceiling, noticing an oddly shaped water stain. Lucretia was silent for a minute, then shook her head.

     “I stretch... I train... I practice... and it’s still not enough. It’s not even close to what it used to be.” Julia looked at her. “If I push any harder, the knee starts to hurt and--” she stopped and looked down again, biting her lip.

     “And you’re afraid you’ll lose what you do have,” Julia finished for her. Lucretia nodded. She glanced at Julia, then quickly looked away.

     “I’m happy to be your coach. I’m so proud of every one of you guys.” She took a shuddering breath. “But I’m only 34... I should still be skating.” A brittle laugh bubbled out of her. “Hell, I probably could have been sponsored and on a travelling team.” Julia reached over and took Lucretia’s hand. “Get to the fuckin’ Olympics of roller derby.” She looked at Julia with a melting smile. It took her a minute to speak again, after she had swallowed hard a few times. “That’s why I’m tough on you, Julia.” She met her gaze, a different softer look in her eyes. “You remind me so much of myself at your age. You have the potential to be amazing, but if you don’t start thinking a couple steps ahead… It can destroy you.”

     Julia’s bottom lip quivered and she looked away, nodding quickly. “I’m really sorry... about the bout. I shouldn’t have--”

     “It’s okay, it was just a game. But I worry…” She stopped and squeezed Julia’s hand. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I did.”

     Julia looked up at her. “You know the injury wasn’t your fault, that Rad Robe--” Lucretia shook her head.

     “There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” She let out a long breath. “I’m not the best about opening up to people, even people as important to me as you.”

     Julia smiled a little, “Yeah, same.”

     “Maybe we can work on that. Being more open and honest with each other.”

     Julia nodded and sniffled. “Well, let me start by saying that you should know that you’re the best goddamn coach I’ve ever had. None of us would be half the athletes we are without you. And most of us would be lost to the world without this team.”

     Lucretia slowly nodded. “Thanks.”

     “And if you ever want someone to train with, I’m here.”

     “Even after endurance practice?”

     Julia smiled. “Yeah, even then.”

Chapter Text

     “Alright, listen up!” Lucretia’s voice cut through the pre-practice chatter of the team. They were all in the middle of stretching. Carey had to spin around to face her coach. “Got a couple of announcements before we get going. First up, Killian wants me to tell you all that Angus’ school fundraiser is happening next week.”

     “Ooh, are they doing the buckets of cookie dough like last year?” Hurley asked, stretching her arm over her head and holding her elbow.

     “Nah, wrapping paper,” Killian answered. Everyone groaned.

     “Anything is better than the lotions from two years ago. That smell still hasn’t come out of my rug,” Sloane said, leaning back on her hands.

     “Agreed,” Lucretia said, looking back at her clipboard. “Ah, Merle is claiming that the smell from the locker room is growing too noticeable again, and I have to agree with him. Remember, weekly vinegar baths of your gear will keep away the derby stank. We don’t want a repeat of last summer.”

     “Yeah, Carey,” Taako accused, batting her shoulder with the back of his hand.

     “Hey, in my defense I didn’t know that those pads were at the bottom of my locker the whole time.”

     “And finally, you might notice that we have a visitor in the audience tonight.” She gestured to the stands behind the team. They all turned to look. “Wave hi, Kravitz.” Kravitz waved from his seat in the empty bleachers. Taako smiled, but it faded when he saw the waggling eyebrows and shit-eating grin that Carey was giving him. “I’ve known Kravitz for many years, and he’s a documentary photographer who’d like to do a piece about our team. So he’ll be at our bouts, and most of our practices for the rest of the season. He may get into contact with a couple of you to do more with you outside of the league, but don’t feel obligated to participate in that part if you don’t want to. Ah, did I miss anything, Kravitz?”

     Kravitz had walked down and he rested his elbows on the edge of the track. “Um, if it’s okay with you M… Lucretia, I’d like to do quick preliminary interviews with each of the players? Just one at a time, name, age, occupation, that sort of thing.”

     “Sure. Julia, you go first. The rest of you, line up on the jammer line. We’re doing agility drills.” Lucretia blew her whistle and the girls hopped up onto their feet. Julia skated over and hung onto the railing.

     “Here, I’ll make this quick. Julia Waxman, 26 years old, part-time bartender and part-time student. We good?”

     Kravitz looked up from the notebook he was scribbling in. “Oh, I have a few other questions. You might want to sit down.”

     Killian tapped on Taako’s shoulder. “I think you’re the last one,” she said, pointing back to where Kravitz was standing at the edge of the track.

     “How’d yours go?” Taako asked.

     She shrugged. “Fine. He’s nice… kinda a dork though.”

     “Yeah,” Taako replied dreamily. He took a minute to smooth out his tank top before skating over to Kravitz.

     “So how did it go?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the track, his skates swinging back and forth. Kravitz looked up from his several pages of notes and looked to be brimming with excitement.

     “This is incredible!” he enthused. “The stories these women have, and the diversity of everything: race, socioeconomic background, careers. This is amazing!”

     “Yeah, we are a pretty wild bunch.” Taako leaned back on his hands.

     “And these were just preliminary interviews. Oh man. I knew this was going to be a good piece, I could just feel it, but wow. I had no idea.” He shook his head and watched the pack roll by. Taako was studying Kravitz’ face.

     “You really get a kick out of this, huh?”

     Kravitz looked back to Taako. “This is my favorite part of documentary.” His eyes lit up with the fire of a man who had found his life’s passion. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, has a story. And I love getting to share people’s stories with a much bigger audience than who otherwise would have heard it. It’s just… humblingly incredible.”

     Taako didn’t think it was possible for Kravitz to become any more handsome than he already was before, but he was wrong. He looked away, a half-smile on his face.

     “So who do you think you’ll do further interviews with?”

     “I’m actually not sure.” Kravitz picked up his notebook and flipped through the pages. He tapped a long finger on his upper lip as he reviewed his notes. “Lucretia really has an incredible story, but I don’t know if she’ll let me publish it…” he mused. “Noelle is fascinating. Skating with the prosthetics, AND the engineering work she’s doing. But then Sloane and her car shop… Oh, Carey mentioned someone named Angus?”

     “He’s a neighbor of theirs, lives with his grandpa. Kinda a little brother of the whole team.”

     Kravitz wrote that down. He shook his head. “It’s going to be hard to decide on just a couple of subjects.”

     “Well, I really underestimated how fierce the competition was going to be,” Taako mused, watching Noelle artfully jump over Killian.

     “Actually, I’d really like you to be one of the main subjects, Taako. If you’re willing.”

     Taako smiled back at Kravitz. “I thought you’d never ask.” He spun around and rejoined the practice.

     Kravitz watched him go. He was both certain that Taako would make a fascinating documentary subject, and worried that his own interest in him was already extending beyond just telling his story.

Chapter Text

     Noelle rode in the passenger seat of the truck, opening and closing the hooked tongs on her prosthesis methodically. The arm was fitted to use the muscle movement of her shoulder and bicep to manipulate the tongs. When she first got it, it took a lot of practice to use, but now she tended to flex as an unconscious tic, especially when she was nervous.

     “Hey, Lucas? You still haven’t told me what this machine’s primary function is supposed to be.” Noelle gestured to the mechanical monstrosity in the truck bed with her good hand.

     “Who’s the P.I. here?” asked Lucas.

     “What’s a P.I.?”

     “Primary investigator. My research. I’m in charge.”

     “Well, you are, then, but your setup looks downright--”

     “Look, do you want the extra credit or not?”

     “Yeah, but--”

     “Then shut up and try to learn something.”

     Noelle quieted. She hated people telling her to shut up, but it wasn’t exactly a new sensation. What had Killian said? Trust her instincts? Right now her instincts were telling her that this teacher’s assistant was crazy, but a B in Fluid Dynamics meant she could keep her scholarships, so maybe she should go with it? Lucas was a grad student, studying something in theoretical physics. She had no idea what this machine of his was for, but she was pretty sure some of the wiring was faulty.

     “I’m sorry, I’m just very nervous,” Lucas said. “This is the first field test of my invention. It could be big!”

     Noelle said nothing. It had better be big. She was missing derby practice for this.

     “You uh, wanna know what it does?”

     “That’d be helpful, if I’m going to assist you.”

     “Right, so you’re familiar with the electromagnetic energy that neurons use to fire thoughts?”

     “As much as an engineer can be, I think.”

     Lucas pulled to a stop. Noelle looked up. They were somewhere familiar. Was that the rink in the distance? This must be the woods behind it. She slid out of the car, gathering the frizzy fluff of her hair with the end of her hook and twisting it through the elastic on her wrist with her good hand. They were on a dirt road. Up ahead it crossed the railroad tracks. She could hear a dog barking in the distance.

     “Help me carry it over there,” said Lucas. He hauled the thing to the edge of the bed. It looked like the lovechild of an engine block and a switchboard, and had a bunch of quartz crystals wired into one side for no discernable reason. Exposed copper wiring, backwards switches...Noelle half expected to be electrocuted just looking at it. Nevertheless, she put her arms underneath it as he dragged it out, ignoring the sharp corners digging into the skin of her good arm and scratching the plastic of her prosthesis.

     They placed it in a small clear spot among the brush. He pulled some wires that seemed to be attached to golf tees out of the top of the thing and handed her two. “Walk them out at a right angle. Make sure they’re taut.”

     Noelle winced. “These aren’t going to be live, are they?”

     Lucas gave her a look of incomprehension. “What?”

     “Never mind.” She took the wires and walked them out about ten feet. They were lying over brush. Please, please don’t let them be live.

     “Hello, Miss Noelle!”

     She looked up. Angus was up ahead, and he had Lucretia’s dog, Miyagi, with him. She waved. “Hi, Angus.”

     “Are you doing science?” He approached, the dog following behind. Miyagi was some kind of English bulldog-pitbull mix, dense and muscled and ugly as hell.

     “Probably,” said Noelle, sticking the golf tee into the ground. “Do Carey and Killian know you’re here?”

     “Yes. Don’t worry, I’m staying off the train tracks.”

     Noelle nodded and followed the wire back to the machine so she could measure a right angle. Angus and the dog followed her. “What sort of science are you doing?” he asked.

     “Theoretical physics, I think. Angus, do you have a book with you?”

     “Yes.” He handed her a ratty paperback. She used the bottom corner to measure the angle and then handed it back and walked out the other wire.

     “Excuse me, Noelle, who’s this?” The scorn in Lucas’ voice was palpable.

     Noelle suppressed a sigh. “This is Angus. He’s a friend of mine. He won’t be any trouble.”

     “Hey, can you maybe get your dog away from my machine?” Lucas snapped. Noelle looked up. Miyagi was sniffing the contraption.

     “Miyagi, heel,” said Angus solemnly. Miyagi abandoned his investigation to go sit by Angus’ feet.

     “What were you saying about electromagnetic energy?” asked Noelle.

     “Right! Yes.” Lucas stood up from fiddling with his machine. “In keeping with the laws of thermodynamics, that energy from the brain is not lost and cannot be destroyed. Even with death.”

     An uncomfortable feeling started bubbling in Noelle’s gut.

     “It’s my hypothesis that the observable phenomena attributed to the supernatural is in fact lingering electromagnetic energy, and thus, I have built this machine to detect it!” He looked over the horrible thing with the pride of a new mother. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

     “Lucas, in the spirit of scientific inquiry, can you be straight with me?” asked Noelle.

     “Yeah, sure.”

     “Are we ghost-hunting?”

     Angus gasped. “Ghosts! Wow!”

     “If you want to put it crassly, sure,” said Lucas. “But that’s a little reductive, don’t you think? Typical engineer.”

     “And we’re probably here because of Tharden Rockseeker, right?” said Noelle.

     “The town’s not exactly drowning in prominent deaths. It’s disappointing, really.” Lucas bent down to make more adjustments.

     “Who’s Tharden Rockseeker?” asked Angus.

     “He died out here in the woods, many years ago,” said Noelle. “It was very sad .”

     Lucas didn’t notice this. “All right, we’re ready.”

     “Lucas, do you mind if I just adjust some of the circuitry?” said Noelle. “If it’s wired wrong it could explode.”

     “It’s not wired wrong, it’s perfect,” said Lucas. “Now I’m going to switch it on.”

     Noelle felt a surge of panic. She turned to Angus. “Why don’t you go run back to the rink?”

     “But I’d like to see if it detects anything, Miss Noelle.”

     She put a hand on his shoulder. “That thing is basically a bomb and you need to get clear now.”

     Angus’ eyes widened. He said, “Come on, Miyagi,” and took off running.

     Lucas was scribbling in his notebook. “Test 1. Rockseeker location. Here we go.” He flipped a switch.

     Noelle watched, edging backwards. Nothing happened. Lucas stepped back and tapped his pencil to his chin. “Huh. Maybe if we--”

     Magnus carefully fitted the new board into the hole. It was snug, but he didn’t have to force it. Perfect.

     “How’s it going?” said Merle, from outside the cupboard. Magnus scooted out and sat up.

     “Pretty good,” said Magnus. “I should be all done before derby practice. I just need to nail it in.”

     “And there’ll be no more warping?”

     “Nope. You said there was a leak there last year?”

     “Yeah, should all be fixed now. Piece of shit rink.”

     Magnus frowned. “Why do you own the place if you don’t like it?”

     Merle shifted uncomfortably. “I inherited it. Can’t seem to get rid of it.”

     The back door slammed open and Julia booked it inside. Magnus felt a pang of happiness as he realized he could say hi to her, since they were friends now. He raised his hand. “H--”

     “Can’t talk! Late!” Julia shouted as she blew past.

     Suddenly, from the still-open door, came a low echoing BOOM , immediately followed by something that sounded like shattering glass.

     All three of them froze. Julia turned a wide-eyed look at Magnus. She looked petrified. “Angus.”

     Magnus jumped to his feet. Merle reached into the cupboard and pulled out an old army kit bag with a red cross on it. Together, the three of them ran out the back door.

     Noelle’s ears were ringing. She very carefully sat up.

     The machine was smoking heavily. She could see from the way the brush under the copper wires was going brown that it was only a matter of time before the woods caught fire. She staggered upright, stepping carefully through shards of broken crystal, and hit the switch on the machine. A faint electrical buzz stopped.

     Lucas groaned. He was on the side of the machine that hadn’t been studded with unnecessary quartz, so it didn’t look like he was cut at all, just thrown backward.

     “Medic! Medic coming through!”

     Noelle looked blearily toward the rink. Three figures were coming through the trees. The one shouting “medic” was Merle. He hurried over to her, kicking shards of crystal out of his way. “Here, sit down. Let me look at you.”

     She dropped to her knees, puzzled. He checked her eyes with a tiny flashlight and her pulse at the same time, so quickly that she hardly realized it was happening. “Good thing that didn’t get you in the flesh leg, huh?”

     She looked down at her leg prosthesis. There was a five-inch crystal shard sticking out of it, just below the place where her actual knee ended.

     “You stay here a minute, I’m going to look at this guy.” Merle hopped over a wire to Lucas.

     “Noelle?” Julia was suddenly there, hand on her back to steady her. “What happened?”

     “I tried to tell him the wiring was faulty,” she said. She couldn’t hear her own voice.

     “What the hell are you doing out here?” demanded a third voice from over by Lucas. The ref? Magnus?

     “Noelle, do you know where Angus is?” said Julia.

     “He ran,” she whispered. “He’s okay, I think.”

     “Do you hear me?” said Magnus. He was crouching next to Lucas, who was sitting up now, getting the same medic treatment from Merle. “Who are you?”

     Julia scowled. “Oh I know you. Lucas Miller, right? Always complaining about the noise level at Refuge?”

     “‘M in the midst of a very... very important experiment,” he mumbled.

     “You’re pretty well concussed is what you are,” said Merle. “If you throw up, try not to do it on me.”

     “He said if I helped him, I could get extra credit,” said Noelle.

     “Help you do what exactly?” said Magnus. He snapped his fingers, trying to get Lucas to focus his eyes. “Hey, you better tell me right now.”

     “Electromagnetic sensor,” mumbled Lucas.

     “Hello?” came a fourth voice from the woods.

     “Over here, Lucretia,” called Julia. “Noelle, you said you knew it would do this?”

     “He wouldn’t listen,” Noelle replied.

     With a nearly inaudible fwoomp , the machine burst into flames. All five people drew back, but the flames were covered in a thick white foam almost as soon as they appeared. Lucretia was brandishing a fire extinguisher.

     “What the hell’s this Angus tells me about a bomb?” Lucretia said, in a tone so level you could have hung shelves on it.

     “‘Snot a bomb,” muttered Lucas. “Very sensitive instrument.”

     “Yeah, real sensitive,” said Julia.

     Lucretia crossed her arms. “Well well well. Lucas Miller. Experimenting in the woods, just like when you were a kid.”

     “I’m a serious scientist,” he groaned.

     “Uh huh. Noelle, how do you know this boy?”

     “He’s a teacher’s assistant for my Fluid Dynamics class,” she said.

     “Didn’t you say something about extra credit?” prompted Julia.

     Lucretia raised her eyebrows. “Are we exploiting undergrads, Lucas? Putting people in danger?” She tsked. “What until your mother hears about this.”

     Lucas’ head rocked back. “You can’t tell her.”

     “You bet your ass I can. Noelle, why don’t you come back with me? Julia, Magnus, help this idiot take out his trash.” She gestured to the wrecked machine.

     Julia helped Noelle to her feet. Noelle accepted the shoulder to lean on from Lucretia and limped away. Julia could hear Lucretia saying, “You know, that crystal in your leg looks kind of New Age. You should keep it.”

     Julia started yanking up the wires that were stuck in the ground for whatever reason. She lifted the machine itself, hoping that whatever this foamy stuff was, it would come out of her blouse, but only managed to pick it up a few inches.

     “I’m going to need your help with this,” she said to Magnus. He was gathering crystal shards using the front of his shirt as a basket.

     “Yeah, hang on,” he said. “Where should I put all these?”

     Julia pointed. “That’s his truck, throw them in there.”

     “You need to go to the hospital,” Merle was saying.

     “I’ll drive right there,” said Lucas, getting unsteadily to his feet.

     “Uh, no you won’t,” Merle shot back. “You’re in no condition to drive.”

     Magnus dumped his shirtful of crystals in the truck bed and crouched down to help Julia. “Ready? One, two--” They hoisted the machine up and carried it to the truck.

     “Do you have anyone you can call? You can use the phone in the rink,” said Merle.

     “Um. Yeah.” Lucas staggered forward.

     “Hang on, Merle,” said Magnus. He shot a look at Julia; Julia got the impression he was asking for backup. She followed him.

     Magnus took a handful of Lucas’ shirt and lifted him up. “Listen to me. If you endanger people’s lives like that, you’re not a scientist. You’re reckless and stupid.”

     Aha, this was the play. Julia stepped up, sticking a finger in the boy’s suddenly terrified face. “How dare you bring Noelle into this? How dare you use that thing even when she told you it was dangerous? With a child around?”

     “If we ever see you around here again, we will not hesitate to kick your ass,” growled Magnus.

     “And you better give Noelle that extra credit you promised, or we’ll be after you,” Julia added.

     Magnus put him down gently. Julia brushed some dust off his shirt. “Now get lost,” she said.

     With a wild-eyed stare, Lucas turned and teetered off toward the rink.

     They watched as Merle steadied him on his way. Julia glowered at his back. “Punk.”

     “You said he calls noise complaints on Refuge?”

     “All the time. What did he expect living by a pub?”

     Magnus nudged her gently with his elbow. “That was some good teamwork just now.”

     Julia glanced at him. “I’d kick ass with you any day, Burnsides.”

     Noelle was quiet all the way to the rink door. Lucretia was just talking soothingly, filling the space with noise.

     “I forgot to ask, did you ride here with him? We can bring you back if you did,” said Lucretia. “You could even join us for part of practice, if you’re feeling up for it. Your skate bag is here, right? And your other leg?”

     Noelle opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sob, and then the floodgates were open and she was crying in front of her derby coach, dammit.

     Lucretia didn’t seem bothered. “Ssh. It’s okay. You can sit this one out.”

     “I don’t want to,” Noelle blubbered.

     “All right, then we can find a spare jersey. No need to be sad.”

     “I’m not sad,” said Noelle damply. “I’m--I’m mad! The one time I get to be involved in research and it’s a stupid ghost-hunt that ends in an idiotic accident. Nobody takes me seriously in the engineering program, and the one time someone does--” Another sob surfaced and choked out any more coherent words.

     They were at the rink now. Lucretia stopped in front of the door and looked Noelle in the eye.

     “You have every right to be angry,” said Lucretia. “And so help me that boy is going to get a three-hour crash course in scientific integrity, if I know his mother. He won’t get away with that again. Okay?”

     Noelle nodded, trying to reign in the crying.

     “But in the meantime, how about you bring that anger with me? I know something we can do with it.” She pulled open the door.

     Inside, the girls and Taako were gathered around Angus, who was saying, “And then Noelle said it was basically a bomb, so I--”

     “Noelle!” said Sloane, and the party broke off to skate over to her. “Are you okay?”

     “Way to make an entrance, bubele,” said Taako.

     “Holy crap, your leg,” said Hurley, reaching out to touch the crystal.

     “Enough,” said Lucretia. “She’s gearing up for practice. The rest of you run some warm-up laps on the flat rink, I think they’re still fixing the bank track. We’re practicing push blocks today.”

     “Yes!” said Killian, pumping her fist. “I love pushing people into people.”

     “Noelle here needs more practice on blocker.” Lucretia patted her shoulder. “Now get to it!”

     The team skated off to the flat rink. Lucretia gave Noelle’s shoulder one final squeeze and followed them.

     Noelle took a deep breath and managed a small smile.

     Angus hung off the half-wall of the flat rink as he watched their practice. Miss Noelle hadn’t come out of the locker room yet. She had seemed so shaken after the explosion, which made a lot of sense. If he was honest, it had scared him too and he was halfway to the rink when it blew. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t exciting. He’d definitely have the best story on the playground tomorrow. The back door opened and in walked Miss Julia and Magnus. He smiled and waved at them, traipsing over.

     “Oh, Angus, there you are,” Julia said with a relieved sigh. She jogged up and knelt in front of him, taking his head in her hands. Magnus stood close behind. “You’re okay, right?”

     “Yes, of course, Miss Julia. Miss Noelle sent me and Miyagi away in plenty of time to get out of the blast zone.”

     Julia laughed a little, and rubbed his cheek with her thumb before letting him go. “It really scared me.”

     “Both of us,” Magnus said, crouching down to be on their level.

     Angus smiled and looked between them. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

     Julia pulled him in for a hug, Angus’s face on her shoulder. “We’ll always worry about you,” she assured him. “That’s what you do for people you care about.”

     Miss Julia’s hugs were always the best. She smelled like flowers and her arms were soft and homey. Angus turned his face so he could see Magnus, who reached out and ruffled Angus’ hair. Angus grinned at him as Julia let go.

     “I gotta get to practice. You sure you’re okay?” she asked again. Angus nodded. “Alright.” She stood up and both Angus and Magnus watched her go.

     “Well, little man, you want a hot dog? All this danger has made me hungry.” Magnus patted his stomach.

     “Yes, sir!” Angus said, racing off for the concessions stand.

Chapter Text

     Kravitz always liked how someone’s home reflected who they were as a person. He had an ongoing series of photos, a project that he suspected would never be completed, of just showing people inside their homes. So when Taako invited him over to try some homemade pasta, Kravitz asked if he could bring his camera to continue the series.

     Usually by the time he went to a subject’s home, he had a pretty good idea of what to expect behind the front door. Japanese minimalism, or Shabby Chic, or stacks of newspapers and old tuna tins. But as he pressed the buzzer to Taako’s loft over the travel agent’s office, he realized he had no clue what to expect on the other side.

     “Yello?”

     “It’s me… uh, Kravitz.”

     “Hey my fella, come on up.”

     The front door buzzed and opened and Kravitz walked inside.

     There was a small landing, on which a sagging shoe rack with a truly astonishing collection of footwear was located, and then an immediate flight of stairs upwards. Kravitz took off his shoes as Taako appeared at the top of the staircase.

     “Come on up.” He winked, and then disappeared back into the apartment. Kravitz walked up the stairs, the old wooden boards creaking under his sock feet.

     It was a studio, and from the top of the stairs, Kravitz could see the whole apartment. It was an older building: the floors were wooden and the walls were brick. A small kitchen, in which Taako was stirring several different pots at the same time, was to his right. There was a large wooden table that seemed to act as both an island and a dining room. Mail and a small collection of cacti and herbs sat in the sunbeam at the end of the table. Taako’s bed was shoved in the opposite corner from the kitchen. It was piled high with pillows of all colors and shapes, a collection that really shouldn’t work together yet somehow it did. A lime green couch was pushed up to the foot of the bed and there was an old TV in front of that. However, the most dominating feature in the whole space, the thing that took up a solid third of the floor plan, were the clothes.

     Taako had racks and racks of clothing that he had arranged to form little aisles up against the right wall. Kravitz couldn’t help but immediately wander over and investigate. The clothes were of all sizes and eras. There were hoop skirts and kimonos and royal robes. He saw a costume that looked like it would inflate and turn into some sort of dinosaur. There were accessories too, button boots and Jackie O pocket books and Ancient Egyptian headdresses.

     “Holy crow,” Kravitz said quietly, whipping his camera off his shoulder and beginning to take a few shots. “This is incredible. Do you wear all these?”

     “Hm?” Taako turned away from the stove for a minute, setting up a cutting board on the table. “Oh, gracious no. Some of them, but not all of them.”

     “What are they for?” Kravitz said, focusing on some beautiful jewel-toned embroidery on a sleeve that seemed to be hand-done.

     “Costumes, of course.” Taako peeled an onion and began expertly dicing it on the cutting board.

     “Like for Halloween?” Kravitz asked, his head poking up from one of the aisles.

     “Well, I did have an excellent Scarlett O’Hara one last year, but not just that. I help out with the local community theatre.” Taako scraped the onion into a steaming pot, then turned to pinch a leaf off a basil plant. Kravitz stepped out from the aisle and snapped a shot of Taako in his kitchen. Taako looked up at the shutter sound. “Hey, I thought you wanted to get pictures of the apartment.”

     Kravitz shrugged his shoulders. “You are as much a part of your space as your space is a part of you.”

     Taako half-smiled and turned back to the stove. “Well I’m a chef, not a model. So I revoke my permission if I look bad.”

     “That’s impossible,” Kravitz said, kneeling down to get a different angle on the kitchen. He took the picture, then realized what he’d said. Very professional. Luckily, Taako didn’t seem to hear him so he breathed a sigh of relief. “How long have you been involved in theatre?” he asked in a louder voice.

     “I’ve worked with the troop in town ever since I moved here, so like… 5 years? But I did theatre in high school too.”

     “Did you start in costuming or…?” Kravitz took a seat at the table.

     “I started on stage, but apparently they don’t like it when you improvise your own lines.” Taako grinned over his shoulder, and turned the heat off under a pot. “But the costumer was always nice to me, and she taught me everything I know.”

     Kravitz nodded and snagged some carrot slices from the salad bowl. “So you didn’t grow up in town? I guess I just sort of assumed you did.”

     Taako leaned away from the pot of boiling water he was straining in the sink. “Nope. Grew up in New Elfington.”

     “Wow, you’re a long way from home.”

     Taako shook out the noodles in the colander, and then grabbed two plates from a cabinet, setting them on the table. “Nah, here is home.” He snapped his fingers at Kravitz. “Stop sneaking carrots.”

     “Sorry.” Kravitz said, smiling sheepishly. Taako pushed the cutting board over towards Kravitz.

     “Here, chop those bell peppers. Sauce is almost done,” Taako said, turning back to the stove. Kravitz picked up the knife and started chopping the vegetables, careful to keep the seeds separate. “How about you? Where’s home for you?”

     Kravitz frowned as he chopped. “I’m not really sure these days. I grew up in Neverwinter, even went to school in the city. But now I only go back there for holidays with Mother.”

     “That sounds nice. Holidays with the family.”

     “It’s not.” Kravitz scooted the pieces to the side of the board and started on another pepper. “My mother’s parents and siblings come and bring their families. Last Christmas they spent the whole dinner arguing about whether Bush or Hatch was going to get the party nomination. They even agreed with each other and they were still shouting.” He shook his head and dropped the peppers into the salad bowl. “A couple years ago, I was in Mongolia at Christmas and couldn’t get home in time. That was the best.”

     “That’s usually what I do at the holidays.” Taako took a plate from the table and dished out a generous serving of pasta. “Stay in, have some wine. Sometimes Julia invites me over, her family is a hoot.”

     “You don’t go back to New Elfington?” Kravitz asked as Taako switched the plates.

     “Nope,” he said simply, dishing out more pasta. He set the plate back on the table and turned to open up a very crowded cooking utensil drawer, snatching a ladle from the depths.

     There it was again. That feeling like there was something very large and very obvious that Taako very much didn’t want to talk about. Normally Kravitz would prompt a little and give enough space for his subject to feel comfortable to open up. But Taako was already different than any other subject he’d worked with. And the more time he spent with him, the further and further they seemed to drift away from the relationship Kravitz had set out to form and into very different waters. So instead he said nothing.

     Taako turned around and set the second plate on the table.  “Look, Kravitz. I think the project you’re working on is really swell, and I’m happy to participate, and I like spending time with you.” He took a breath, and the clipped tone came back to his voice. “But the things that you are wanting to know… are not easy for me to talk about. I’m not saying that I won’t ever speak of them… but I- ...I need time. I’m working on it. I promise.”

     Kravitz shook his head. “No, that’s fine. There’s no rush. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

     Taako smiled and nodded. “Well, then. Now that that’s out of the way, how much sauce do you like on your noodles?”

     “Whatever the chef thinks is best. I put myself in your hands.”

     Taako grinned wickedly. “Wise choice, buckaroo.”

Chapter Text

     Magnus took a gulp of his beer and winced, not at the beer, but at Avi’s rendition of “Come on Eileen.” Come to karaoke night with the B.o.B., he’d said. It’d be fun, he said. Magnus didn’t realize it would involve hearing Avi strangle every member of Dexy’s Midnight Runners one by one. Was anyone good going to sing?

     At least he was there with friends. He threw a glance at Julia, who was talking with Hurley and Killian. Yeah. Friends.

     “What really gets me is the passion,” said Johann. He was watching Avi like a man at an art gallery. “Truly karaoke is an expression of the deepest parts of our psyche.”

     Magnus laughed. “If you say so.”

     “Hey Magnus!”

     It was Hurley, and she was standing on a chair, her cheeks flushed. She leaned over the table toward him. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

     “I don’t think I’m drunk enough for karaoke,” he said.

     “I’ll say you’re not!” said Killian. “You’re drinking beer . Lemme get you something else.”

     Magnus shrugged. “I’ll take it if you’re buying.”

     “This time,” promised Killian, and left for the bar.

     “What have you got against karaoke?” said Hurley, leaning close enough that even in the dimness he could see her freckles. “You some kinda Asian racist?”

     “I don’t know--”

     “‘Cause it’s Asian,” said Hurley.

     Julia stifled a snicker. “Like Sloane?” she provided.

     “Sloane!” Hurley tottered back upright on the chair. “I love Sloane. Love her. Where is she?”

     “Over there?” Magnus pointed to the bar.

     Hurley stepped up onto the table--Magnus hastily moved his beer--and grabbed his face. She looked him dead in the eye. “Thank you.” Then she kissed him gently on the nose, released him, and fell forward off the table.

     “Oh god!” Magnus reached out to catch her, but he needn’t have bothered; she landed in a roll, sprang up, whirled around, gave him some finger guns, and hustled over to the bar.

     Magnus’ eyes were huge. He turned to Julia. “And she’s drunk?”

     “Wasted,” said Julia. “She teaches Judo.”

     “Does Judo give you supernatural powers?” Magnus demanded. Julia laughed. Damn, she was beautiful when she laughed.

     “So what’s the story?” she asked. “How come you don’t like karaoke?”

     “I don’t really like hearing drunk people sing bad music.” He took another swig of his beer and shrugged.

     Julia paused. “Wait, bad music? It’s ‘Come on, Eileen.’ Who doesn’t like ‘Come on, Eileen?’”

     “I’ve heard the same riff in like, six other songs from the same era,” said Magnus. “It’s repetitive. And boring.”

     “It’s common because it’s good ,” said Julia. “ Catchy .”

     “It was the first twenty times I heard it,” scoffed Magnus. “There hasn’t been a good original song since 1982.”

     Julia looked personally offended. “All right, wise guy. What’s a good karaoke song? Any era.”

     He finished off his beer and thought. Good songs. Quality songs. “Hmmm…’Layla.’”

     “‘ Layla ?’ By Derek and the Dominos? Hell no!”

     “It’s a good song!” Magnus protested, impressed. Most of the time he had to hum songs for people.

     “It’s seven minutes long! And the last three minutes are instrumental.”

     “What’d you suggest, then?” asked Magnus. “Nirvana or some shit?”

     “No, you’re missing the point,” said Julia. “Crowd favorites don’t have to be new. They just have to be good. And have enough words that you don’t have to dance if you can’t.”

     “I can dance,” said Magnus.

     “Brave words,” she said. “Seven minutes is a long time.”

     Saving him from trying to come up with a comeback, Killian arrived and put a glass down in front of him. “Drink!”

     He picked up the glass. “What is it?”

     “Rum and coke,” said Killian.

     Magnus tasted it. He sputtered a little. “This is not rum and coke.”

     Killian grinned. “C’mon, Burnsides.”

     Magnus paused. He shot a glance at Julia. She was stone-faced.

     He’d be damned if Killian got the better of him in front of Julia mid-argument. He took a drink. What was this, Long Island iced tea? “What were you saying?”

     A devilish smile crossed her face. She poked his chest with one finger. “I’m saying you wouldn’t know a good karaoke song if one bit your ass.”

     Magnus drew himself up. “Oh yeah?”

     “Yeah.”

     Goddammit, it was a challenge now. “Fine. Catchy, right?”

     “Yeah, something catchy.”

     He stood up, downed half of the drink, and walked up to the DJ. Well, shit. Now he had to actually come up with a good song.

     Let’s see. Maybe he should avoid love songs. Of course that took most music off the table. What was both platonic and catchy?

     “You got a song request or what, buddy?” asked the DJ.

     “Uh, yeah. You got any Earth Wind & Fire?”

     Julia waited, not bothering to hide her grin anymore. If he was going to be their friend, this was where he’d prove himself. She nudged Johann, who was congratulating Avi on a truly soulful performance.

     Magnus took the microphone and swaggered up the step to the stage.

     “Whaaaattt,” murmured Avi. Johann put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

     The music played, and Julia knew the beat immediately. Her mouth fell open.

     Saxophones blasted, Magnus threw out a hip and sang--

“ Yeahhh, Hey!!

When you wish upon a star,

Your dreams’ll take you very far, yeah,

But when you wish upon a dream,

Life ain’t always what it seems .”

     What had she been expecting? Classic rock maybe, but not this. He wasn’t half bad. His claims of dancing were suspect; mostly he just moved his hips, but he could move ‘em.

     The other girls had caught on and were cheering and catcalling too. Killian was losing her mind.

     Julia threw back her head and laughed.

     Magnus sneaked a peek at the table. She was laughing again.

     He threw his hand out to the table, to Sloane and Hurley at the bar, to every member of the B.o.B. he could find, singing,

You’re a shining star

No matter who you are

Shining bright to see

What you could truly be

     The pub went nuts. Magnus tried to hit the highest harmony on the last part. His voice cracked, but no one seemed to notice. The song ended, and he shouted into the mic, “Good night Refuge!”

     Magnus rode the applause down the stage and swaggered back to the table. “How was that for catchy?”

     Julia was still in stitches. “That’s pretty good!” she managed.

     “Now you gotta do it, right?” said Avi.

     Julia stopped laughing. “What, me?”

     “Yeah, you’re a good singer!” said Avi. “Haven’t you actually taken classes for singing?”

     “Have you?” said Magnus, delighted.

     She rolled her eyes. “I figure if I’m going to take twice as long to get my degree I might as well take some fun classes. I’m not going to sound good, though.”

     “Nobody sounds good at karaoke, Jules,” said Killian. “C’mon, give us something good!”

     “I’m not going up there unless one of you goes with me,” she said, staring them down.

     Avi, Johann, and Killian eyeballed each other for a few seconds.

     “I’ll do it,” said Magnus in the silence.

     They turned to look at him. “Oh really?” said Julia slyly.

     “As long as you choose something good,” he said.

     “Something catchy?” she said.

     “Yeah.” Magnus grinned. “Or would you not know a good karaoke song if one bit your ass?”

     “Oh, all right, I see how this is.” Julia stood up. “A duet, I assume?”

     “Of course.”

     “Wait here,” she said, and sauntered over to the DJ.

     “You’re in for a treat,” said Johann. “She’s a very good singer.”

     “I bet she goes with Elton John and Kiki Dee,” said Avi.

     “Oh, god forbid Elton John,” said Magnus.

     “Carey says you love those high notes,” said Killian.

     Julia looked back at them and waved Magnus over. He made his way toward the stage and took the proffered microphone. “What’d you pick?”

     “Just roll with it,” she said, and hopped up the steps to the stage.

     Magnus braced himself, but as soon as the music started he relaxed. “Good call,” he said.

     “You’re gonna miss your cue,” she said, and he almost did, but he started just in time:

“ Listen, baby,

Ain’t no mountain high,

Ain't no valley low,

Ain't no river wide enough, baby… ”

     Magnus thought his voice wasn’t bad, but he was legitimately shocked when she sang.

“If you need me, call me,

No matter where you are

No matter how far …”

     She was good, damn. He was so impressed he missed his line, which didn’t seem to make a difference, because now they had the attention of the bar. He joined her on the chorus, singing the high part, and damn if she didn’t harmonize.

“ Oh baby there ain’t no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough

Ain’t no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, baby… ”

     They went back and forth gleefully on the verses. Magnus started to get into it, dancing a little--she tried to mimic his movements, keeping her distance but swaying with him, curls flying.

     He felt his heart melt as she sang,

“My love is alive way down in my heart,

Although we are miles apart… ”

     Oh, he was screwed.

Chapter Text

     Steven settled onto a bench, munching on popcorn. That Robbie guy smelled like weed, but he didn’t skimp on the butter. Probably because he smelled like weed. Steven hoped he could see the action from here. He’d forgotten his glasses.

     He tapped his foot, not steadily like he usually did when he was sitting still, but erratically. He always got nervous watching Julia’s bouts. He tried very hard not to be the sort of father who locked up his daughter in a tower, but the casual approach to danger put him on edge anyway. Julia had mentioned how friends or competitors got injured. She hadn’t yet herself, but still…

     Even if he couldn’t make himself come to every bout, it was a treat to watch her play. Her look of determination as she passed the opposing team’s blockers on jammer or slammed into someone on blocker...it reminded him of her mother.

     Steven smiled to think of Ella, their adventures together. Like that time before Julia was born, when they were young still, and Ella brought him out to the frozen lake. She’d pulled him out onto the ice to try and walk on it, and they’d both ended up knee deep in frigid water, running toward his truck with shuddering jaws and cranking up the heater all the way.

     He chuckled to think of it. Young and foolish. If Julia wanted to be young and foolish for a bit, he could hardly fault her.

     “Is anyone sitting here?” asked an unusually rich voice.

     Steven scooted over on the bench. The man thanked him and sat. He was linebacker-shaped with an unruly beard and an almost comically small briefcase, and he was wearing a suit he looked stuffed into. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on the bench beside him.

     Steven’s eyes wandered over to the center of the track. Julia was giving a pep talk to her players. He nudged the man beside him. “‘That’s my daughter.”

     The man did a double-take. “Jule Be Sorry is your daughter?”

     “Yep,” Steven said, a little smugly.

     “I’m such a fan! She’s the best captain they’ve had since Destroy Her.”

     Steven frowned. “Who’s that?”

     “The coach there? She used to be amazing.” The man pulled an orange out of his briefcase and started to peel it in one long strip. “Bad injury laid her out in ‘92, but she’s still a good coach.”

     “You’ve been following the team for a while,” said Steven.

     “Oh, yeah, the B.o.B. is easy the most interesting team in the league. They always keep you guessing.” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Klaarg, by the way, Klaarg Daniel.”

     “Steven Waxman.” He shook the man’s hand. “Julia--Jule Be Sorry--says they’re doing well this season?”

     “I’d say so, yeah, won four out of six bouts. The new ref is something though, calls a lot more penalties.” Klaarg carefully rolled the orange peel into a ball and took a bite straight out of the orange.

     Momentarily unsettled, Steven found himself unable to look away as juice dribbled into Klaarg’s beard. “Uhh...that’s…”

     “It is safer for the players, of course, but there aren’t near so many fights.”

     “Are there usually fights?” asked Steven. Julia neglected to mention…

     “It depends on who they’re playing. It’s just the Rockport Riot today so most likely nothing too crazy. Not like when they played the Rad Robes.” He reached into his briefcase again and pulled out a thermos and a cup. “Tea?”

     “No thanks.” Steven watched in horrified fascination as Klaarg finished off the orange with another bite, poured a steaming cup of tea from his thermos, and sipped it daintily. The man was huge, but more than that, there seemed to be something about him that took up more space than most people.

     “I love a good Oolong, don’t you?”

     “I mostly drink iced Lipton,” said Steven.

     The chant started, the one that the players began and the crowd took up. Steven started stomping and shouting along. Who are we? The B.o.B...

     The announcer called out the names, one of which made Klaarg snort into his tea. “Jess the Behead-her? I thought she skated for Goldcliff.”

     The skater in question was a densely built woman who looked like she could lift Steven bodily. Klaarg leaned forward. “Oh, this will be interesting.”

     And the bout began.

     The Riot took an early lead in points. The boy, Taako, was their starting jammer while Julia waited and watched.

     After three jams where Taako was held back by the opposition’s wall, Julia traded off with him. There it was, that look of determination, just like when she was little. This was going to be good.

     The whistle blew, and Julia took off, neatly lapping the track far ahead of the opposing jammer. The Riot’s blockers formed up a wall again, but the tall one, Beauty and the Beast, took hold of Julia and whipped her straight through it. Like a cannonball, she broke through their line, her blockers following fast behind. She weaved through the Riot like a dart, narrowly dodging each one. The Behead-her barrelled toward her to hip check her--but lil’ Diablo pushed the short one, Battling Ram, into the Behead-her, and the two of them hit the rails. With an extra burst of speed, Julia sailed around the curve as the two minutes sounded.

     “It’s a grand slam, folks!” said the announcer. The crowd burst into cheers.

     Steven shouted, “That’s my girl!”

     Klaarg clapped politely. “Very impressive! Very well done.”

     After the half, the Riot stopped depending on the wall so much, and the bout turned into a back-and-forth of points. Steven was on the edge of his seat. Now Julia and Noelle were trading off on pivot, and between Julia’s skill, Taako’s fancy footwork, and Noelle’s preternatural ability to see every player at once, the B.o.B began to pull ahead. That Jess the Behead-her, though, seemed to make it her personal mission to bring down the jammer. Steven winced as she knocked Julia down for the third time.

     “If this ref is so good at calling penalties, why won’t he call them on this Behead-her character?” Steven grumped.

     “None of her hits have been illegal yet,” Klaarg replied. “If I know Jess, though, that won’t last long.”

     Klaarg’s words could have been prophecy. A new jam began, with Julia as the jammer; she lapped the track and began weaving in between the blockers. Taako was shouting something from the center, something Steven couldn’t make out, and drifted onto the track.

     It happened in quick succession. The whistle blew to stop the jam--too many players on the track--Taako jumped back into the center, and from one end of the track, a crack .

     Steven looked just in time to see Julia slump to the ground beside the rail on the outside edge of the track, Jess the Behead-her standing over her. One of the volunteer refs, the one with the mullet, was mid-spin; he’d been facing away. The crowd started to shout. Steven jumped to his feet.

     The head ref ran over and knelt next to Julia. She sat up, holding her head. Steven released a sigh.

     The refs held a quick conversation. The mulleted ref was shaking his head.

     “He didn’t see it?” demanded Steven. “What happened?”

     “I believe Jess threw her into the rail,” said Klaarg.

     “Is she okay? Julia!”

     The refs exchanged a few words with Jess. Steven couldn’t tell from here if she looked guilty or not. Lucretia and Taako skated onto the track to help Julia up. She made it fairly easily to her feet, using Lucretia’s arm to steady her. As she made her way to the center, she searched the stands with her gaze.  

     Steven waved, in case she was looking for him. She was; she held up a thumbs-up, and then a hand palm-out.

     All right, she was okay, didn’t need immediate help. He sat down and looked to the refs. They signaled for no penalty.

     “Ladies and gentleman, it looks like the referees have determined this to be an accident,” said the announcer, and he was immediately drowned out by boos and catcalls from the audience, and from the B.o.B. members on the track as well.

     Steven shouted, “Oh come on, ref!”

     “Bad form,” commented Klaarg. “There’s very little chance that was an accident.”

     Steven was filled with boiling fury. “Where does that guy get off?”

     “I’m fine . I can go back in!” Julia was reaching for her helmet.

     “Not with a goose egg like that you can’t,” said Lucretia, holding it just out of her reach. “You might be concussed.”

     “What the hell is wrong with Magnus?” demanded Carey.

     “He didn’t see it,” muttered Julia. “What was he supposed to do?”

     “Grow a pair maybe?” said Sloane. “That was a shitty call.”

     “Why are you defending him?” snapped Hurley.

     “I’m not! It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m going to keep playing.” She stood up, a little unsteadily, paused, and gagged.

     “That does it.” Lucretia snatched the panty off Julia’s helmet and tossed it to Taako. “Throwing up means concussion.”

     Taako caught it. “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks, we’ve got this.”

     Julia sat back down and tried to swallow back the bile. “Fine. Just--Diablo, Jenicide, keep an eye on Jess. Don’t let her pull that shit again? Right?”

     “Right,” said Carey.

     “Good. Who are we?”

     “The B.o.B!”

     “Let’s go.”

     It was a close thing, but with Julia on the sidelines looking alternately very disoriented and out for blood, the B.o.B maintained a growing lead and finished things 85 to 69. Jess had tried to pick a fight, but her teammates pulled her off.

     Just as well, Magnus thought, as he made his way toward the cupboard under the track, feeling like he’d swallowed a billiard ball. He didn’t trust himself to be fair right now. It had been a bad call, letting Jess get away with hurting Julia. He’d known it was a bad call when he was making it. But at the time--

     He yanked off his whistle, angry at--at who? The Behead-her? Jess hadn’t made the stupid call.

     Angry at himself. Julia was hurt. Maybe not badly, but still, hurt. And in the moment all he’d felt was fear for his own reputation, that someone would accuse him of showing favoritism. His ego, dammit.

     He put the whistles and hats inside, and searched for injury paperwork.

     “Hey, Avi?”

     Avi’s head appeared above him, looking over the rail of the track. “What’s up, boss?”

     Magnus gestured inside the cupboard. “Where do we keep injury forms? I thought they’d be in with the ref supplies.”

     “Injury forms? What are those?”

     Magnus looked up. “You know? Records of incidents? So the players can’t sue or press charges or whatever?”

     Avi looked mystified. “Is that a thing?”

     “My league in Neverwinter did it,” said Magnus, more than a little horrified.

     “We’ve never done that.” Avi shrugged. “Small town league, man.”

     Magnus settled back on his heels. “Jeez, how is this place still functioning?”

     Avi made a gloomy face and said in his best Johann, “It’s the passion.”

     Magnus didn’t laugh. “I should at least touch base with Julia, then, make sure she’s not seriously hurt.”

     “You’re too late,” said Noelle. She was on her way to the merch table with a box of shirts on each shoulder, still wearing her skate prosthetic. She rested on her other foot, which was skateless at the moment. “She already went home.”

     “Oh. Great.” Magnus stood up and slammed the cupboard shut. “No accountability anywhere.”

     “You want accountability?” said Noelle. “What about calling out Jess?”

     “She’s got a point,” said Avi.

     “I know!” he shouted. “I’m sorry! It was a bad call!”

     “Dude,” said Avi, quietly.

     Noelle was looking at him wide-eyed. She was scared. Magnus deflated. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.”

     She swallowed and looked away. “It’s okay.”

     Magnus took a deep breath. “Was Julia seriously hurt?”

     “Lucretia thinks she’ll be better in time for practice on Monday,” said Noelle quietly.

     “Good. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

     She nodded, balanced herself on her skate prosthetic, and pushed off toward the merch table.

     “Just so you know,” said Avi, “if you ever yell like that around Noelle and one of the other ladies hears, they will kill you.”

     “I’d kill me too, probably,” grumbled Magnus.

     “You’re really taking this to heart,” said Avi. “Everyone makes a bad call sometimes.”

     Magnus sighed.

     “I’m fine, Daddy, really.” Julia tried to hold still as Steven squinted at her head. “That’s why we wear helmets.” They were out in the parking lot, out of the noise, which was a mercy. Her head was aching.

     “All the same, I’d like to make sure you get home. Where’s your car?”

     She made a face. “Busted. I walked. It’s only a half a mile if you cut through the woods.”

     Steven looked a little pained. “Do you often walk a half mile through the woods after bouts?”

     “No, Dad, I get a ride.” Usually. “I know you’d kill me if I was murdered.”

     His face cracked a smile. “I would, too. I’ll drive you back, how about that?”

     “That’d be nice. Thanks, Daddy.”

     He walked her over to his truck. “Need a boost up?”

     “I’ve got it.”

     They hopped into the rattly old pickup. Steven pulled out of the parking lot.

     “How long’s your car been busted?”

     “A week or two. My friend Sloane is fixing it, it’s no big deal. It’s just taking a while.”

     “You getting to school on time and everything still?”

     “Yes, Dad. Don’t you worry about me.”

     Steven couldn’t help it. “Somebody ought to get that ref a pair of glasses,” he muttered.

     “Somebody ought to get you a pair of glasses,” she said back. “Where are they, by the way?”

     “I can see just fine without them.”

     “Then why’d I get you that special welding visor that fits over?” she teased.

     He hid a smile. “This is why I can’t come to these things.”

     “I’m glad you came today. I’m just sorry it was to see me play for only half the bout .”

     “You’re very good, you know. Do they have Olympics for this stuff?”

     “I’m not that good.”

     “Don’t sell yourself short.”

     Julia leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Dad.”

     “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

     The waiting room was empty save for the receptionist and Lucretia. She flipped the pamphlet that she’d been glazing over to the back side. ‘So long as we live, they too shall live on inside us,’ she read, and rolled her eyes. Yeah, okay then.

     “Lucretia?” the large dark wood door opened and a short man stepped out. She put the pamphlet down and smiled at her therapist, Dr. Davenport. “You ready?”

     She nodded, and picked up her purse before following him back into his office.

     “Thank you for being willing to reschedule,” he said, walking over to his desk.

     “It’s no trouble,” she assured. Her footsteps were muffled in the thick carpet. “Your assistant mentioned some sort of conference?” She sank down in between two cushions on the couch, folding her hands on her lap.

     Dr. Davenport chuckled. “Yes, their keynote speaker had to cancel last minute, and the organizer is an old friend of mine. So I helped her out.”

     He picked up the notepad he always used, and pulled up the chair on the other side of the coffee table.

     “Actually, I was able to go to some very interesting seminars. So it was a productive weekend.” He sat down in the chair, and jotted the date quickly at the top of the page. “So how have you been?” He looked earnestly at her.

     “Fine, you know, life as usual. Derby, work, dog, sleep. That sort of thing.”

     “And how is Miyagi these days?”

     Lucretia smiled. “He’s good. He got out of the yard last week, still haven’t figured out how he managed that. Found him a couple hours later, just having a grand time on a porch with some old ladies. They made me sit down and have a lemonade with them before I could take Miyagi back home.”

     Dr. Davenport smiled. “And the team? Are you whipping them into shape?”

     She nodded. “We didn’t get any new players, so we’ve been able to really focus on honing skills and techniques. They’re really doing a good job.” She shrugged. “We might have a real chance at the championship this season.”

     “When was the last time the B.o.B. won?”

     Lucretia blew out a breath. “We won a couple back when I was still playing, but since then it’s been… kind of a dry spell.”

     “Does that frustrate you?” he asked. Lucretia’s mouth twitched to the side and she thought about it for a moment.

     “No, it’s still rewarding even when we don’t win. For me, derby’s always been about more than just winning.”

     “Winning would still be nice though,” he replied, a slight smile on his lips. Lucretia chuckled and nodded.

     “Yeah, winning would be nice…” She frowned a little and sighed. “...playing again would be nice too.”

     “How is your knee doing?”

     “Not any more trouble than it usually is.” She looked down and frowned deeper. “...I went to go see a specialist again last week...”

     “And what’d they say?”

     She sighed, and shook her head. “Same thing as they said five years ago… it’s too far gone. Replacement surgery is the only option.”

     “And you don’t want the surgery?”

     “No.” She looked up at him and shook her head quickly. “I’d-I’d take the surgery in a heartbeat. It’s just I started my current job with the bum knee… and insurance is claiming it’s a pre-existing condition. It’s ridiculous.”

     “They won’t cover it?”

     She shook her head. “And I’ll never be able afford it otherwise.”

     “Physical therapy won’t work either?”

     “Wouldn’t get me back up to the level where I could join the team again…”

     Dr. Davenport was quiet for a moment. “That’s a frustrating situation to be in,” he said.

     Lucretia let out a long breath. “It’s my own damn fault--sorry.”

     Davenport waved a few fingers. “It’s fine, continue. Why do you think it’s your fault?”

     “Well, because it is. I came back too fast after the first injury. Blew it out all over again...” She pulled over a pillow and put it on her lap, smoothing out the fringed edge. “If I’d known then…” She shook her head. “Just add it to the pile of poor life decisions, I suppose.”

     “Do you feel you’ve made many of those?” he asked, looking up from his notepad.

     She chuckled without smiling. “I’m basically limping evidence of poor life choices.” She twisted the pillow’s fringe around a finger. “I mean, on the surface, I like my life. I do. I have good friends, an okay job, a fun hobby. ...Just… I wonder if I couldn’t have liked it more if I’d taken a few other turns… if just a few things ended differently.”

     Dr. Davenport nodded slowly. “It’s perfectly normal to wonder what might have been, but it becomes a problem if you end up spending too much time wondering.”

     She nodded. “Yeah, I know.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s just hard not to with everything that’s happened.”

     Dr. Davenport regarded her for a moment. “You know, I think I might have something to help with that.” He stood up from his chair and went back to the desk. “One of the seminars I went to was about coping methods.” He opened up a drawer and pulled out a canvas totebag. “The doctor giving the talk was saying that her patients had found a good deal of success in--ah.” He rifled around in the bag, and then pulled out a black leather book. “Journaling.” He held the book up and headed back to his seat.

     “Like a diary?”

     He nodded and sat down, holding the book out to Lucretia. “Precisely.”

     She took the journal, and flipped through the empty pages. The scents of leather and paper drifted upwards.

     “Really, any method of self-reflection is helpful when dealing with loss. She was specifically a grief counselor, but that’s not too far off-base for you.”

     Lucretia nodded. “Yeah, makes sense.” She looked back up to Dr. Davenport. “So you want me to keep a diary?”

     “If you want to.”

     “What should I write in it?” she frowned at it.

     “Could be a daily record, or important events or memories from the past. Really it’s what you want to make of it. If it ends up not being for you, we can find something else. But I think this might help you. Give you a chance to look over everything and weigh it out.”

     She looked at him. “Will you read it?”

     He shook his head. “Only if you want me to.”

     Lucretia slowly nodded, and ran a hand over the cover.

     “Yeah, okay. I think I can do that.”

Chapter Text

     “Good work today, kids. It’s the end of class.”

     The kiddos lined up and bowed. “Thank you, Master Hurley,” they chorused.

     “Thank you . You’re dismissed.”

     The class swarmed out of the class to meet their parents. As usual, little Kaitlyn stayed a little while after putting on her shoes. She pulled a video game thing out of her backpack and sat down in the waiting area.

     Hurley kept half an eye on her while she made some notes for class. Some of these kids were ready to advance. She’d have to make an announcement for an advancement ceremony... order some new belts…

     The door opened. “Hi, Daddy,” Kaitlyn said. Hurley looked up.

     “Hi, Pumpkin. Evening, Master Hurley.” Captain Bain waved from the doorway. “Ready to go?”

     “Yep,” said Kaitlyn, putting her game back into her backpack.

     “Oh, uh, Captain Bain?” Hurley hopped out from behind the desk. “I was just wondering. How long does it usually take to hear back about training program applications?”

     He frowned. “You haven’t heard back yet?”

     “No, sir.”

     “How long has it been since you turned it in?” he asked.

     Hurley did a mental count. “Two months? And a week?”

     “You should have heard back within six weeks.”

     She scowled. “I see.”

     “Here. Uh.” He pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “You have a pen?”

     Hurley snatched one off the desk and handed it to him. He wrote something down.

     “This is the officer in charge of the desk down at the station. Tell him I sent you. I’ll let him know you’re coming. Can you spell your last name?”

     “O-apostrophe-S-H-A-G-H-E-N-N-E-S-S-Y.”

     Captain Bain looked up. “Maybe you should just tell him when you get there.”

     “Excuse me?”

     Hurley could just see over the tall front desk of the station. A soft sort of guy was sitting behind the desk. He spent a few seconds looking straight ahead before looking down. “Oh, hello.”

     “Hi. I’m here to check on the status of a training application?”

     He snapped his fingers. “Yes, right, the captain said someone would be coming. What’s your last name?”

     “It might be easier if I write it down. Starts with an O-apostrophe-S, though, if you want to start looking?”

     “Right. When did you send it in?”

     “Nine weeks ago.”

     The man slid a piece of paper and a pen over to her and swiveled his chair to open the drawer of a file cabinet. “Oh apostrophe ess. O’Shea?”

     “Nope.”

     “Hmm.” He closed one door and opened another, flipping through the paper inside. “O’Sullivan?”

     “Here.” Hurley stood on her toes and held out the paper.

     He looked at the paper and froze. “Uhhh... hang on. Redmond?” he called over one shoulder.

     “Yeah?” came a voice from the hall behind the desk.

     “Can you get me an application from the...other file?”

     “Sure, whose?”

     The guy looked at Hurley. She said, “Oh shawn essee.”

     “O’Shaghennessy?” repeated the man.

     “Oh, is that how you say that? Sure thing, Luca.”

     The guy looked unaccountably nervous while they waited. Another man, one who looked very similar but bearded and fatter, appeared with a familiar sheet of paper. “God, this is one of my favorites.”

     “Redmond…” said Luca.

     “I mean, they’ve got to be joking, right? The height and the name--”

     “ Red mond.”

     “A prime example for the joke file.”

     “REDMOND.”

     “What, do they think we’re going to hire a--”

     “A what? ” asked Hurley sharply.

     Redmond noticed her now. She glared at him. He floundered. “You know…”

     “Say it,” she spat.

     He gulped. “A leprechaun.”

     What Hurley really wanted, more than anything in the world, was to fly screaming over the desk at this bitch. She also wanted to work here, though. Assault charges would probably make that difficult. What did Sloane always say? Quiet was scarier than loud. She breathed in and out slowly, through her nose.

     “Does the Faerun Police Department make a habit of straight up ignoring applications to their training program?” she said, as calmly as she could manage.

     “Listen, obviously there has been a big misunderstanding,” said Luca. “We’d like to apologize. It’s just...you know, it sounded kind of ridiculous.”

     “Does it?” she said. “Does it really ?”

     “Now see here, ma’am--” Redmond began.

      She pushed herself up taller, legs dangling off the floor. “No, you see here. I’d really really hate for Captain Bain to hear about this--what did you call it? A joke file? Now I’d like to be treated as a regular applicant, if you don’t mind !”

     Luca held up his hands. “I’m afraid it’s too late.”

     “What?!”

     “Our training program only runs twice a year,” he said. “You can always apply at the academy in Neverwinter if--”

     Hurley let herself thump to the ground. “I already have. Thanks for that.”

     “Ma’am, I’m so sorry--”

     “You’re gonna be! Where’s the captain?”

     Redmond leaned back. “I don’t think we need to bother the captain.”

     “Bother me about what?” Captain Captain Bain appeared from the hall and handed Luca a file. “Oh, hello, Hurley.”

     “Hi, Captain,” said Hurley, talking faster. “Did you know your officers sometimes treat applications like jokes and put them in a joke file without processing them?”

     Captain Bain narrowed his eyes and turned to Luca and Redmond. “Is this true?”

     “Sir--” Redmond began.

     “Yes,” said Luca. Redmond shot him a betrayed look.

     “I’ll speak to you about this joke file in a moment. At length .” Both men flinched. Captain Bain turned to Hurley. “You have every right to be angry. Trust me, I’m angry too. But I found out this morning that the training program is two weeks in, and we can’t admit you now even if you qualify. So what would you like me to do?”

     Give me five minutes alone in a room with these yahoos, she thought, but what she said was, “When I reapply in six months, I don’t want to pay the fee.”

     “That’s reasonable. Luca, make it happen.”

     “Yes sir,” groaned Luca.

     “I’ll see you both in my office. Now.”

     “But sir, she’s a--” Redmond attempted, but Captain Bain held up a hand.

     “There is no minimum height requirement. And that woman could kick your ass. Now get to my office. Good day, Master Hurley.” He turned down the back hall.

     Redmond punched Luca in the arm. “You idiot.”

     “Why am I the idiot?”

     Hurley turned on her heel and left.

     “A leprechaun, Sloane! A leprechaun!”

     Hurley laid with her head in Sloane’s lap on her couch. Sloane was running her fingers through Hurley’s hair. Sloane had just showered, so she smelled like that peppermint essential oil she used.

     “What a couple of douches,” Sloane murmured.

     “They used to call me a leprechaun in school,” growled Hurley.

     “So you kicked their asses.”

     “No, this was pre-judo. I just yelled a lot. Didn’t stop them.”

     “I would have kicked their asses,” said Sloane.

     “You couldn’t kick a fly’s ass, you beautiful flower.”

     “You have a fly’s ass.”

     “You have a fly ass.”

     Sloane snorted. “Thanks, Curly Hurley.”

     “You’re welcome, my long, lean love machine.”

     Sloane kissed her, and Hurley tasted peppermint. She sighed, let Sloane’s fingers pull the tension out of her neck for a minute or two.

     “Do you think they’re right?” said Hurley morosely, after a while. “Do you think I’ll ever be a cop?”

     “If you aren’t, we’ll have to become famous street racers.”

     Hurley smiled, just a little. “Still illegal, babe. Carey said don’t do crime.”

     “She should be a spokesperson for like, public service announcements.”

     Hurley took on a raspy sort of voice. “Hey, kids. This is Carey Fangbattle saying, ‘Don’t do crime.’”

     Sloane laughed and mimicked the voice. “Hey, kids, this is Tom Carey Brokaw Fangbattle.”

     Hurley cackled.

     The egg timer in the kitchenette dinged. Hurley jumped up. “Oh good!” She snatched the hotpads off the counter and pulled the pan of roast potatoes out of the oven. “These are gonna be so good.”

     “Thanks for skipping the chicken, babe.” Sloane pulled a couple of plates out of a cupboard.

     “I couldn’t eat chicken in front of a vegetarian. Especially not my favorite vegetarian.” Hurley put the pan on the counter and shut the oven door. “If I’m honest I really like the potatoes better.”

     “You are painfully Irish.”

     Hurley shot her a dark look.

Chapter Text

     Kravitz took a deep breath and stared out his windshield. He’d been sitting in his parked car for the better part of a half hour, working up the nerve to leave it. In his mind, he ran over what he wanted to say once again. Preparation always helped him feel more calm and collected, though his fingers still tapped erratically on the steering wheel. He knew that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t make what he wanted to say any easier. But it had to be said. They could not continue like this any longer.

     The light above Taako’s yellow front door seemed brighter in the dark and rain. He should just go for it. If he sat in the car any longer he was in danger of never leaving it. Thunder clapped and the street momentarily was bright as day. Taking the plunge, he finally opened the car door.

     Immediately, he was soaking wet. He jogged across the street and stepped onto the stoop. Here goes nothing , he thought and raised a hand to knock on the door, but it suddenly opened. Taako was standing there in a yellow rain jacket, a look of surprise on his fine features.

     “I was just coming out to meet you,” Taako said.

     “Taako, there’s something I have to tell you,” Kravitz began hesitantly.

     “Yeah, me too.”

     “I should go first.” Kravitz stepped a little forward, put Taako stopped him with a hand to his chest.

     “No, let me.” Taako moved his hand and looked at the ground. “I think I’m finally ready to tell you about my past. I was--”

     “Wait. Don’t. I have to tell you I’m…” His stomach twisted into a million knots. “I think that you shouldn’t be one of my documentary subjects anymore.” The words fell out of him and splashed in the puddle on the stoop.

     Taako took a half-step back and blinked a few times. “Why? Was it something I said?”

     “No! No, of course not. It’s not you, it’s literally me. It’s just...” Kravitz paused; his heart felt like it was beating a million miles a minute. But it was now or never. “The way that I feel about you and think about you is not a respectable way for a professional documentarian to be.”

     Taako looked away and appeared to be processing through this information.

     “And I don’t want,” Kravitz continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “for the documenting process to make you open parts of yourself to me that you wouldn’t have otherwise. That doesn’t seem fair or right, especially when I feel this way about you.”

     Taako looked back to Kravitz’s face, and Kravitz couldn’t read his expression. The hovering panic began to set in full bore. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, y-you would have made an amazing subject. But you turned out to be such an--” Kravitz gesticulated wildly with his hand, his speech speeding up as he kept going, “An interesting person that I just kept thinking about you and I wanted to talk to you and spend time with you. And I’m a selfish enough person that I would like to be more to you than just… what we are… right now… if you’ll have me.”

     Kravitz bit his tongue to keep himself from talking anymore. Taako’s expression was still unfathomable. As the silent seconds ticked by, it began to feel like the floor was dropping out from under him.

     Until Taako finally said, “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

     Kravitz’s eyebrows raised sky high, and a dopey smile spread across his face. “Really?”

     Taako smiled too. “Of course. I liked you from the moment I saw you.”

     “I think I did too… I was just too stupid to realize it,” Kravitz said. Taako laughed a little and Kravitz felt like he could float away. “Um… I would very much like to kiss you now. If I may.”

     Taako stepped out onto the stoop, and smoothed the lapels of Kravitz’s wet suit coat.

     “I thought you’d never ask.” He grabbed the lapels and pulled Kravitz down for an earth-shattering kiss.

     The storm had finally ceased, but gentle rain still pattered against the windows of Taako’s loft. Taako’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling as he laid in bed. He could never sleep when it was raining, not for many years now. Somewhere in his costume stores a mantel clock that he could never find chimed 2 am. He turned to see the dark slopes of Kravitz’s back, slowly rising and falling with each breath as he slept on his side next to Taako. Kravitz had pulled his dreads into a topknot, exposing the back of his neck. Taako rolled over and placed a kiss at the nape, draping an arm across Kravitz’s middle.

     “Are you awake?” Taako asked, curling up behind him. “I can’t sleep.” Kravitz let out a half-conscious mumble, but stretched and put his hand over Taako’s, their fingers intertwining.

     “...not usually the little spoon.” he mumbled, his voice still groggy and deep.

     “Everyone likes being the little spoon, makes you feel safe.”

     Kravitz hmm’d. Taako liked the way he could feel his voice reverberating solidly in his chest. He rested his cheek against the back of Kravitz’s shoulder.

     He took a deep breath. “I know that you don’t want me to be part of your documentary because you felt like it wasn’t fair to me, or it was manipulative… but you once said that you share people’s stories with audiences that wouldn’t hear them otherwise. And I think… I don’t know… maybe my story might help some people…”

     “You’re shaking,” Kravitz replied. He turned over towards Taako, but his face was covered in shadow. Taako looked down anyway, gripping his hands together to hide the tremors.

     “Taako.” Kravitz put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to tell me or anyone. That’s okay.”

     “I am though. And I want you to know this before we go any further, but I…” He took a quivering breath. “I haven’t told anyone this before.”

     “What about the derby team?”

     “No… not yet. I will someday but it’s… hard.” He sat up in bed, cross-legged, and shook his hands out. Kravitz sat up across from him, cautiously searching his face. Taako took a shuddering breath, and tried to pick a place to start. Then Kravitz reached out and took his hands.

     “If you really want to do this now, that’s fine. I’m here,” he said calmly. Taako nodded.

     “I mean, you may have already put two and two together,” Taako began, that clipped tone returning to his voice. “I told you at the pottery shop that I did derby because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have a family.” He swallowed hard, “Uh, I wasn’t… ah, exaggerating. Outside of derby, I don’t have one anymore. Mine… I was kicked out,” he finished in a hoarse whisper, gripping Kravitz’s hands for dear life. Kravitz didn’t say anything for several minutes, just let Taako get a hold of himself again.

     “How long ago?” he asked quietly.

     “I was 17.”

     “Whoa,” Kravitz breathed.

     Taako continued, “A kid in my class outed me to my parents and they said I could either leave or, uh, get… therapy. So I left.”

     “Is that when you were at the shelter?”

     “I found the center a couple months later, yeah,” he nodded. Kravitz’s head tilted to the side.

     “Where’d you live in between then?”

     Taako shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear casual. “Nowhere.”

     “Really? Your friends, they just let you be--” An indignant tone started creeping into his voice.

     “Kravitz, it was ‘87. You remember how scared everyone was back then.”

     Kravitz was quieted and he nodded, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Taako’s hands. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

     “It wasn’t so bad,” Taako said. He was trying to maintain that casual exterior, but it was slipping quickly. “New Elfington had a lot of parks with some nice trees, and I found a gym that I could keep some things in a locker at. It was only really bad when it would rain at night…

     “Anyway, so the shelter got me off the streets, and I was able to get my G.E.D. I met other people like me… learned that even in my situation I was one of the lucky ones. At least I wasn’t…” Taako couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. Faces that he’d never forget danced in the back of his mind. He pressed on. “But in the end derby is what really saved me.” He looked out the rain-splattered window, but Kravitz watched Taako’s face.

     “Why?”

     Taako’s gaze drifted to his lap. “Because… it’s hard to want to keep going if your only goal in life is just survival.” He gnawed on his bottom lip. “Derby gave me something to aim for... even if it took me another six years before I was in a place to actually join.” He nodded a little and finally looked back to Kravitz. “And those wild girls have become my family in the years since.

     “So, uh… I want my story told because,” he sighed, “I don’t know, when I was younger if I could have seen that someone else could be in my situation but somehow make it out or through it, ‘cause it really feels like so few of us did… that would have been good.”

     Kravitz slowly nodded and squeezed his hands. “May I ask a question?”

     Taako nodded.

     “Have you talked to your parents since then?”

     Taako shook his head. “I haven’t even seen my parents or talked to my sister since that night.”

     Kravitz was quiet and Taako looked at him for a moment. “You have another question, don’t you?”

     “Just… is there a specific reason you haven’t told anyone before me?”

     Taako bit the corner of his mouth and looked down. “I guess I’m just worried that if I tell anyone, they won’t want to be with me anymore. It’s much more appealing to be friends with Taako the Glamazon than Taako the sad gay kid whose own parents didn’t want him.” He brushed at his eye with the back of his hand. “I know it’s irrational and stupid but… that’s why.”

     Kravitz was quiet for a moment, then whispered. “You are so much more than either of those things. You’ve always been fascinating to me but now you’re inspiring too. I just...” he shook his head. “Taako. You are incredible.”  

     Taako smiled.

     “Are you okay?” Kravitz asked. Taako nodded.

     “Yeah, I am now.”

     “You sure there’s not more to your story? Saving drowning babies from rivers? Curing cancer?” Kravitz smiled as Taako laughed.

     “Well, not yet.”

     They sat for a moment, still holding hands. “Can I kiss you?” Kravitz asked.

     “You know you don’t have to ask every time,” he drawled, leaning forward. Kravitz let go of Taako’s hands to cup his jaw.

     “Yeah, but I kinda like asking.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to one cheek and then the other.

     “I kinda like you ask--” he was cut off when Kravitz’s lips met his.

Chapter Text

     “Should we have gotten him those adjustable ones? He’ll grow out of these in a year.” Carey wondered out loud as Julia and Killian wrapped the box in wrapping paper covered in dogs wearing bow ties. She was walking around the locker room, giving each team member a conical party hat and noisemakers.

     “Those things are nothing but plastic death traps covered in Disney branding,” Hurley said from her spot on the bench as she swung her legs back and forth, two party hats on her head. It gave her a sort of goat-like look.

     “And he’ll like that these look just like ours,” Taako assured her, snapping the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

     “Let’s hustle, ladies-and-Taako. I know we have a special occasion, but we’re still going to get in a full practice,” Lucretia warned as she left the locker room.

     “Okay, everyone ready?” Julia asked, the present tucked under her arm. They all nodded back and they snuck out of the locker room, the only sound the whirring of their skates.

     It was mid-week practice, so there were just a few skaters over on the flat rink. And there was only one person in the stands, Angus McDonald. He was in the very first row with his nose was buried into some children’s fantasy novel so he didn’t notice as the entirety of the team snuck up behind him.

     Killian held up her fingers. 3, 2, 1--

     “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANGUS!!!” They all cried and blew the noisemakers. Angus’s book flew out of his hands to the floor, and his surprise immediately turned to delight.

     “Oh, wow! You remembered??” he said, his eyes all lit up. Carey skated around and snapped a party hat on his head.

     “Of course, we did, little man. How could we forget the birthday of our favorite fan?” Taako said, sliding along the bleachers to sit one row behind him.

     “Well, you have a lot of fans.”

     “Ah, but you’re our favorite,” Sloane said, sitting beside Taako, smiling fondly at Angus.

     “We all chipped in and got you a present. We’re pretty sure they’ll fit,” Julia said, setting down the box on Angus’ lap. He just looked at it for a moment, his hand running over the colorful paper.

     “Aren’t you going to open it?”

     He looked up and snapped out of his reverie. “Oh right!” The colorful paper quickly disappeared and Angus lifted the lid off the box, and he stared open mouthed at the contents inside. Even with each team member chipping in just $10, the skates they got were practically top of the line. They looked exactly like the ones the team wore, black leather boot and bright blue laces. He picked one up and spun one of the wheels, staring at it in awe.

     “Oh, wow,” he said in a hushed tone. “Thank you so much! I love them!” He smiled so big it seemed like his face might burst.

     “Here, here, take off your shoes and we’ll help you lace ‘em up,” Julia said, taking the box from him and sitting on the bench. Angus quickly threw off a worn tennis shoe and then the other. Julia made a mental note to get some new socks for the poor boy as both of his big toes were sticking out of large holes.

     “Happy Birthday, Angus,” Lucretia said, skating to the edge of the track. “We’re very proud of you, but I’m afraid I have to take my team back. Let’s go!”

     Julia quickly helped him tie one skate and then the other as the rest of the team started practice. She pulled him to his feet.

     “Now, we don’t have outdoor wheels on those yet, so be sure to just use them here in the rink.”

     “Yes, ma’am!” He hopped up and down with excitement and quickly lost his footing, he staggered around and fell back into his seat on the bleacher. Julia smiled.

     “Hey, you’re already doing better than when I started,” she said, and she skated away. Angus took a deep breath and stood up slowly this time. His feet rolled back and forth, but managed to grip his way along the bleachers till he reached the flat rink where a poorly attended public skate was happening.

     He spent the entirety of the practice making very slow wobbly loops around the rink. More than once he fell on his front, his rear, his side. One time he ran into the wall. But it was without any real injury, and it did not deter his spirit. Eventually he was the only skater left. The team came to stand at the edge of the rink once their practice was done. Angus concentrated carefully to keep from falling over in front of them. He wanted to make them proud.

     “You’re doin’ great, buddy!”

     “Make sure to keep low, it’s easier to balance.”

     “Remember to fall small!”

     “Block with your butt!”

     He waved excitedly at them and lost his balance, flailing around a little bit before remembering to squat down. And he remained upright. The group cheered for him and he got so excited that he jumped back to standing and fell over anyway.

     “Keep at it, my dude!”

     “Hey, Angus, we’re gonna change, and then we’ll drive you home, kay?” Killian called across the rink.

     “Okay!” Angus said, picking himself up off the floor and starting back. The team disappeared into their locker room. Angus hoped that he could make it around a couple of more times before he’d have to stop. As he made it to the back corner, the back door to the rink opened.

     “Magnus, sir! Look what the team got me for my birthday!!” Magnus smiled and walked up to the edge.

     “Look at those hot rods! You’re a regular derby pro in those.” He let out a whistle. Angus laughed and came to an unsteady stop.

     “I’ve been practicing the whole practice, and I’m getting much better.”

     “Hey, that’s all it takes. Practice, practice, practice...and more practice.”

     “Could you give me some pointers? If you’re not too busy, I mean.”

     “I’ll do you one better.”

     Julia zipped up her skate bag and threw her hair up into a ponytail. It would probably need to be washed before tomorrow. Carey and Killian were going over some plays with Lucretia, so for the first time in a long time she wasn’t the last one out of the locker room. She waved to the three of them as she left, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. The lights over the banked track had been turned off, but the lights over the flat rink were still on.

     Julia smiled as she saw Angus still going around the rink, though he wasn’t alone. She recognized Magnus skating along next to him, sometimes coming around in front to skate backwards, always within arm’s reach. Even in just the fifteen minutes she had been in the locker room, Angus’ form had improved, as had his speed.

     She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever pep talk Magnus was giving, it seemed to be working. She wandered a little closer and leaned against the half-wall of the rink.

     “Now you can’t let the fear of getting hurt stop you from trying,” Magnus said, skating along in front of Angus. “You gotta trust your gear to protect you, and you gotta trust yourself.” Angus skated a little faster, but leaned too far forward and started to fall. But Magnus was right there to catch him. “Hup, oh!” He set Angus back upright and tickled his ribs. “Though we should get you some pads, gotta protect those joints if you’re going to be a pro-skater.”

     Julia smiled as she watched the two of them, a warm feeling growing in her chest. Magnus was such a good guy with Angus, and really with everyone. Loyal, and friendly, yet upright and honest, very dependable and pretty handsome too-

     She stopped smiling and looked away.

     Oh, no.

     “Miss Julia! Look! Magnus helped me go faster!” Angus called as he passed by her corner.

     “Great form, hun.”

     Magnus came up and leaned against the wall next to her. Her breathing became shallow and all the nerves in the arm closest to him felt sparkly. They just watched him make his way down the length for a minute.

     “It’s really nice of you,” Julia began. Magnus turned to look at her. “To teach him, I mean.”

     Magnus smiled at her. That warm feeling from earlier grew a little bigger, dammit. “He’s a good kid. Though I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get him out of those skates ever again.”

     Julia laughed, a little too loudly. And she immediately looked away.

     “I gotta go.” She picked up her skate bag and quickly turned for the door, silently berating herself as she left.

     Magnus watched her go. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed how just standing near her had given him goosebumps.

Chapter Text

     Julia checked her watch again. She was definitely late now. For as small as the downtown was, one would think that parking wouldn’t be much of a problem. But she had still ended up circling around twice before finding a spot that was three blocks away from the coffeeshop. She jogged the last couple of steps and held the door open as a mom pushing a stroller left the shop.

     “Bye-bye!” the toddler waved from his perch. Julia smiled and waved back before going into Pour Joe’s.

     The place was fairly crowded for a Tuesday afternoon, but it was always popular. Tantalizing scents of coffee and cinnamon wafted around, accompanied with the hiss of the espresso machine. The brick and plaster walls were covered with sharpie drawings and quotes.

     Taako waved from one of the two seater booths along the side wall. Julia hurried over and dropped her purse into the seat before sitting down herself.

     “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she sighed, dropping her elbows on the table and running her hands through her hair. “Parking was a nightmare.”

     “It’s fine. I already ordered for you.”

     “Ooh, did you get--”

     “A large mocha latte with cinnamon? Yep.” Taako smiled and nodded. Julia sat back.

     “I can be kinda predictable, huh?”

     “Nah, I just know you.”

     The barista appeared with two large cups and saucers. “Mocha latte for Julia, an americano for Taako,” She set the two cups down, and then grabbed a dozen sugar packets from her apron pocket. “And sugar for Taako. Can I get you guys anything else?”

     Julia shook her head.

     “I think we’re good, Rachel, thanks.” Taako said. “Hey, how’s your mom?”

     “She’s feeling much better.” Rachel put her hands in her apron pocket. “Oh! She wanted me to thank you for the cupcakes. She said the orange creamsicle one was her favorite.”

     Taako grinned. “Glad to hear.” Rachel nodded and returned to the counter.

     Julia picked up her mug and took a sip, immediately burning her tongue. “You know Rachel’s mom?”

     Taako tore open five sugar packets and delicately stirred them into his coffee. “Rachel’s mom,” he said in a conspiratorily low whisper. “Owns half of downtown. If I ever want to own my own bakery here, I gotta be on her good side.”

     “So you’re bribing her with cupcakes?”

     “I’m not a heartless monster.” He took a sip of coffee, frowned and tore open three more sugar packets. “I also care that she had the flu last week...and I care that she sees how delicious my baking is.”

     “You sly fox,” Julia said, shaking her head. She took a tentative sip, still hot but manageable now.

     “Anyway, my business dealings is not why I called a meeting of The Brain Trust.” Taako put his hands flat on the table. “I have news.”

     Julia’s eyebrows raised. “Do tell,” she said in a faux English accent.

     “You know Kravitz.”

     Julia’s eyes narrowed as she mentally rooted around. “That’s...the documentary guy, right? He wanted you to be one of his main subjects.”

     “Yes, correct. Full marks. And what else?”

     “Gah, no one told me there was going to be a pop quiz today.” She took another sip. “Ummm...you hung out at the pottery shop, he came and took pictures at the bakery, you made him pasta, and....oh oh,” Julia snapped her fingers. “Last week you saw that Heath Ledger movie together.”

     “ 10 Things I Hate About You, yes, which you should see. I think you’d like it a lot.” Julia pumped her fist. Taako smiled at her. “Alright, so you are completely caught up with everything...except…”

     “Except?” she leaned in.

     “He came by a couple nights ago and...we kissed.”

     Julia’s eyes went wide. “What?”

     “And he spent the night,” Taako gushed.

     “What?! I thought he was keeping things super professional.”

     “I mean, he was but I kind of wondered…? But I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause I was afraid I’d jinx it.”

     “So are you two dating now?”

     Taako took a sip of his coffee-flavored sugar solution and shrugged. “We haven’t officially said so. But he said he wants to take me to dinner tomorrow, soo…” he smiled.

     “Oh my god, Taako. That’s awesome. Where’re you going?”

     “27 Springs.”

     Julia made an impressed face to echo Taako’s. “Wow. Fan-cyy!”

     “Right? I keep forgetting that he’s not completely broke like the rest of us.”

     “He can like actually wine and dine you.”

     “He can support me in a manner to which I am not accustomed but definitely could become so.” They both laughed and sighed. Julia watched an unconscious smile slip across Taako’s face as he swirled his cup.

     “You must really like this guy,” she commented, taking a long sip.

     “Is it that obvious?”

     Julia shook her head. “No. I just know you,” she said, repeating Taako’s tone from before. Taako smiled and nodded.

     “I do, Jules. I really do.” He sighed. “I honestly like him so much I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up somehow.”

     Julia shook her head. “Not possible. As long as you’re honest with each other, be open and communicate about what you’re feeling and what you want.”

     “Well, that’s easier said than done.”

     “True. But even if it doesn’t work out, he obviously didn’t understand what a good thing he had with you. And you say the word, and I will come after him with a baseball bat.”

     Taako chuckled. “Thanks.”

     “No problem.” Julia finished off the last of her latte, and set the cup back down with a clink.

     “So what about you?”

     “What about me?” Julia replied. Taako leveled her a look.

     “The Brain Trust is not a one-way street, The Brain Trust goes both ways.”

     Julia tilted her head. “Do you know what a Brain Trust is?”

     “I heard it on the news and it sounded cool. Now stop avoiding the question, Senator Waxman. How’s Magnus ?”

     “He’s fine, I guess. I don’t really know because we’re friends. Just friends.”

     “Friends, huh?”

     “Yep.”

     “Totally platonic.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “So you’re telling me that seeing six feet of hunky Mexican muscle tutoring Angus at the rink did nothing to stir up a lil somethin-somethin deep inside?”

     Julia tried to keep a dead-pan stare locked on Taako, but she had to drop her gaze. “Shit.”

     Taako rapped his knuckles on the table. “Ha! I knew it.”

     “Okay, but we are just friends! Just because I might, I don’t know...like him as something a little more, doesn’t make us any more than just friends.”

     “ For now. ”

     Julia rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy. This was a mistake.”

     Taako chuckled and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him. It will be fa-ar too much fun to just watch this play out on its own.”

     “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

     Taako shook his head. “Nah, girl, I have a feeling.”

     “Uh-huh.” Julia said, sounding very unconvinced. “Wedding coordinator right?”

     “Yes. Right now, I’m thinking a nice navy with lemon yellow and coral accents.”

     Julia thought about that for a second. “I don’t actually hate that.”

Chapter Text

Sloane stared at the invoice. Hell yes. Finally, proof.

She yanked it off her desk and stormed out of her office. “Marvey!”

Marvey rolled out from under a ‘89 Subaru Legacy. “What?”

“Come here.” It was a power move, and she knew it, but she wanted everyone to see this.

Marvey stood up, took his sweet time getting there. Sloane stayed stone-faced. She held out the invoice. “What’s this?”

“An invoice, boss,” he said.

“You weren’t finished with that sentence,” she said. “You mean to say that it’s an invoice on which you overcharged someone for a new transmission. In fact, you charged them double, Marvey.”

He shrugged. He had a smug little smile on his face, which was absolutely infuriating, but Sloane knew that the moment she showed how angry she was was the moment she lost, and now the other mechanics were watching. “That’s just good business, boss.”

“Huh. Strange. I remember saying something about this kind of ‘business.’ Do you remember what that was, Marvey?”

“Can’t say that I do.” His smile was starting to fall.

“I believe it was something to the effect of, if you pull this shit again, you’re fired.” She folded the invoice neatly and put it in the pocket of her overalls. “Guess what, Marvey? You’re fired.”

He went from uncertainty to rage in less than a second. “You can’t fire me!” he barked.

Sloane raised her eyebrows. “Oh. I can’t?” She snapped her fingers at another mechanic. “Little Jerry. What does it say on the sign out front?”

“Kim’s Cars, boss,” yelped Little Jerry.

“Oh does it? And Little Jerry, what’s my name?”

“Sloane Kim?” he said.

Sloane smiled. “Huh. Look at that. I can fire you.” She dropped her smile. “Now get your ass out of here.”

Marvey snarled, looked like he was ready to punch her. Sloane didn’t even blink. He growled and stormed out.

“You shouldn’t have done that, boss,” said Little Jerry. “Marvey’s into some bad stuff.”

Sloane shot him a murderous look. “Not badder than me.”

She stalked back into her office, closed the door behind her carefully, and exhaled, resting her head against the door. She hated that Dragon Lady shit. Why couldn’t they just do their jobs?

She sat down at her desk and opened a drawer, fishing around until she found a small brown bottle labeled “Lavender Oil.” She unscrewed the cap and took a deep breath.

“Relax,” she whispered to herself on the exhale. “It’s going to be okay.”

Sloane wished she could put some on her wrists, but she was afraid the mechanics would smell it and figure out she’d been scared. She put the cap back on, took a couple more deep breaths, and left her office again.

The Subaru needed her attention, which was honestly a bit of a relief. She’d been doing the books all day. Time to get some real work done.

“Excuse me?” A woman had wandered into the garage, clutching her purse in both hands. “I’m um, looking for Kimberly?”

Sloane stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I think you mean me. I’m Sloane Kim.”

Business continued.

Sloane slid out from under the Subaru and wiped her forehead with a rag. Done. And in record time, too. The other mechanics had long since gone home, but she was feeling good about the repair and wanted to finish it. It was only...oh, two hours after closing. Oh well.

She put her tools away, grabbed her purse and jacket from her office, and locked that door, and then the garage doors. She’d walked to work this morning. Better for the environment, she’d thought. Now, though, it was dark, and she was regretting it. Only a mile to her apartment, she told herself. Let’s go.

The street was quiet. It was an industrial part of town, so nothing was open. No people, except a guy leaning against the office building across the street, smoking a cigarette. Sloane ignored him and started walking.

She had to pass through the three blocks that were downtown to get home. Sometimes she stopped at Sazed’s Bakery to buy a slice of carrot cake and chat with Taako, but at this point it’d be closed. Shame, that, Taako would have loved the story of her firing Marvey.

The echo of footsteps sent a shiver up her spine. Sloane sneaked a glance; the guy across the street was keeping pace with her.

Probably nothing, she told herself, but she tightened her fists anyway. What had Hurley taught her? Thumbs outside the fist, not sticking out past her knuckles. Use your knees and elbows. Use your teeth. Don’t get scared, get angry.

Sloane took a deep breath and kept walking. As she passed Sazed’s, she snuck another glance. The guy across the street passed under a streetlight just in time for her to see that it was Marvey. Of course it was Marvey, that prick. He probably just wanted to scare her. She got angry.

They walked for a few minutes more before Sloane heard a metallic thunk, and then the rattle of something being dragged along the sidewalk. She felt her blood freeze in her veins. Very carefully, trying not to move her head more than she needed to, she slid her gaze over to him.

Oh, god, he was dragging a tire iron. Sloane glanced wildly up and down the street. Something had to be open. Anything. A pottery shop, an art gallery, a coffee house, no, no, no--

There, there was a light on in a florist’s shop. The sign said closed, but she darted toward it anyway, filled with relief when the glass door yielded to a push. The bell above the door rang, and she slipped inside and put her back against the wall, panting.

“We’re closed,” said a voice, one that was strangely familiar.

“I know, I’m sorry, can I just--” She paused when she saw the man rooting around in a refrigerator full of boutonnières. “Mr. Highchurch?”

It made sense. She’d always seen Merle as kind of a hasbeen flower child, long gray hair and balding on top and perpetually wearing Hawaiian print shirts. Of course he was a florist. He was always complaining how the rink made no money.

He looked up, one bushy eyebrow raised, and waved a hand at her vaguely.

“You’re one of the derby girls. Uh. . . Jenicide?”

“My name’s Sloane.” She tried to look out the door. Marvey was still across the street, but he looked like he was about ready to cross. “Can I just stay in here for a minute? I fired a guy today and I think he’s after me.”

Merle frowned. He closed the fridge and strolled over to where he could get a look out the door. His frown deepened. “I see him. Yeah, come on over here.”

Merle showed her to a chair behind the cash register, out of direct line of sight of the door. He himself opened the register and began counting cash.

“That’s a bad idea,” she warned.

“Relax,” he said, a little too flippantly for her taste. He seemed to have lost his grumpy demeanor. Sloane shifted in the chair.

The bell above the door rang, and Marvey came in, the tire iron gripped in his hand.

“We’re closed,” said Merle, in a tone that suggested benevolent boredom more than anything else.

“That’s fine,” said Marvey, leveling a finger at Sloane. “I’ll just take my friend and go.”

Sloane was more afraid than she’d ever been, but she managed a glare at Marvey. He would not see her scared.

“Nah, sorry, pal,” said Merle. “Like I said, we’re closed. If you wouldn’t mind leaving.”

Marvey pointed the tire iron at Merle. “Don’t fuck with me, old man. I’ll kill you too.”

“Hmm.” Merle reached under the counter and almost casually pulled out a revolver. He opened the cylinder, which was full, then closed it again. “Listen, buddy. I’m already going to call the police. All you’re doing is helping me decide whether I do it before or after I shoot you.”

Marvey lowered the tire iron, face contorted in a snarl. He spat, “This isn’t over,” to Sloane, and then threw open the door and left.

Merle snorted. “Yes it is, you moron.” He pulled a cordless phone out from under the counter and dialed. “Go see which way he’s going.”

Sloane realized he was talking to her. She jumped up and looked out the door. “He turned left. Uh, south.”

“Hello? Yeah, I had a guy just now trying to rob my store and threaten one of my customers. Pan’s Blooms, 365 Main. He just left, he’s headed south on Main. Yeah, my customer knows him. His name is…” Merle looked up.

“Marvey Norris,” Sloane provided.

“Marvey Norris, she says. Yeah, we’ve got him on tape.” Merle pointed at a dried bouquet on a shelf behind him, which was very poorly concealing a camera. Sloane grinned. Merle may have smiled back. “Yeah, we can wait around.”

He hung up the phone. Sloane breathed a sigh of relief. “God damn. Thank you, Mr. Highchurch.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, sliding the gun back under the counter. He offered her the phone. “You should probably stay with a friend tonight.”

“Good idea.” Sloane picked up the phone and dialed Hurley, who picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Curly Hurley, it’s me. Could you come pick me up?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Pan’s Blooms? Downtown? It’s a long story, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Sure, Sloane Ranger. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Hurley hung up, and so did Sloane, more slowly. She was shaking, she noticed.

“Boyfriend?” asked Merle.

“Girlfriend,” said Sloane, preparing herself for an uncomfortable conversation. She heard a police car siren in the distance. The police station was only a few blocks away.

“No, this Marvey guy.”

“Oh. No, I told you, I fired him today.”

“What’s a gorilla like that do?”

“He was one of my mechanics. I own Kim’s Cars.”

Merle looked properly surprised. “So, you’re Kim Sloane?”

“Sloane Kim,” she corrected him. She clasped her hands together, trying to stop shaking.

“Here.” Merle reached for the dried bouquet in front of the camera and pulled from one stem a couple of buds of lavender. He held them out to her. “Grind this up and smell them.”

Touched, Sloane accepted the buds and rubbed them in between her fingers. “Thank you.”

“I’d uh...appreciate it...if you didn’t mention this to your friends on the derby team,” he said, waving his hand to indicate the shop. “Especially Lucretia. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Sloane shrugged. “Least I can do.” She of all people understood the importance of reputation.

The bell above the door rang, and Sloane froze, but it was just a cop. She relaxed.

“Evening,” said the cop. “We were called about an attempted robbery?”

“That’s right,” said Merle. “This is the customer he tried to assault.”

The cop pulled out a notebook and a pencil. “Right, and you said you knew the assailant?”

“I could give you the bastard’s W-2,” said Sloane. Next to her, Merle chuckled.

Chapter Text

     Angus screwed up his face in deep concentration. This was it. He’d practiced for several weeks now and he was ready to do a lap on the derby track.

     The bank of it made him nervous. Even the little ramp that led up to the concession stand made him nervous. But Magnus said he could be a ref someday, if he learned to skate, so he had to try.

     He carefully stepped up the stairs in his skates, swung open the little gate in the rail, and took a deep breath. He’d just roll down to the center for starters, and then try to go fast around the inner edge. No big deal. He put one foot forward, ready to take the plunge.

     “Hey, get off the track!”

     Angus started, lost his balance, fell on his backside, and skidded down the bank to the center.

     “Aw, what the he--heck.”

     “Ow,” said Angus, and pulled himself to his feet on one of the benches. Merle appeared at the top of the track stairs.

     “Take off your skates and get up here,” Merle snapped. “This area is for players.”

     “Sorry sir! I thought it would be okay since the bout doesn’t start for--”

     “Listen kid, I said you could use the rink when free skate was closed,” said Merle. “Don’t push your luck.”

     “Sorry,” Angus said again. He plopped down on the bench and yanked off his skates as quickly as he could.

     Merle left the stairs as Angus shuffled up the bank in his sock feet. He was surprised to find two kids in the stands, a girl with glasses and a dirty tow-headed boy. The boy was playing a red Gameboy furiously. The girl was watching Angus with interest.

     “You’re in my math class,” said the girl. “You’re Angus. They say you’re a genius.”

     “I don’t think I am,” said Angus, exiting the little gate and sitting on the steps to get his skates back on. “Your name is Mavis, right?”

     She looked a little self-conscious. “How do you know me?”

     “From when you were called up to the board last week.”

     She made a face. “Don’t remind me.”

     Angus tied his laces carefully. “You got the right answer. I don’t know why Mr. Jenkins got so upset. Just because you did it a different way.”

     Mavis smiled a little. “Yeah. How’d you get to be in Pre-Algebra, anyway? You’re not even a sixth grader.”

     “I told my teacher I was bored in fifth grade math.” He tightened his laces and stood up carefully. “It’s hard, but I like the challenge!”

     “You raise your hand for every question, though,” said Mavis. “You mean you don’t always know the answers?”

     “Sometimes you can learn more from being wrong,” he said.

     The boy groaned, still pushing buttons in a frenzy. “I don’t want to talk about school. I thought this was going to be fun.”

     “Some people like school, Mookie,” said Mavis. “They don’t cause trouble and not do their homework.”

     “School’s dumb. When do we get to see people beating each other up?”

     “You can’t beat people up in roller derby,” said Angus. “At least not anymore. Magnus will kick you out of the game.”

     “The whole sport seems kind of dumb to me,” said Mavis. “Racing around in a circle. Like football on skates.”

     “It’s pretty interesting once you know the rules,” said Angus. “Do you want to watch together?”

     Mavis shrugged. “Okay.”

     “Can I use your skates?” said Mookie.

     Angus felt a pang of terror. “Umm…”

     “Dad said to stay put,” said Mavis.

     Mookie stuck his tongue out at her. Angus was relieved.

     “What about the one with the striped helmet?”

     “That’s Noelle. She’s the pivot. A pivot keeps an eye on the movement of the pack and calls plays. She can even become a jammer, if she has to. The jammer just has to pass the...helmet cover with the star on it to the pivot, and suddenly she’s the jammer!”

     Mavis watched with a frown of concentration. “So they could do that if the jammer couldn’t get through.”

     “Yeah!”

     Mookie whooped as Sloane knocked a Goldcliff Golddigger out of bounds. “Hit ‘er again!”

     “That would be a penalty,” said Angus.

     “But it would be awesome ,” said Mookie. “Hey, how did Noelle get her arm and leg cut off?”

     “She says they were lost in a terrible accident,” said Angus. “She doesn’t talk about it much. But she built her leg herself!”

     “Dad has a fake arm, and he hates it,” said Mookie.

     Angus hesitated. This sounded like the sort of thing that was none of his business, but he was curious. “Mr. Highchurch has a prosthesis?”

     “Yeah, from here down.” Mavis indicated the midway point of her upper arm. “He lost it in the army.”

     “Was he in a battle or something?” asked Angus.

     “We don’t really know,” said Mavis. “He doesn’t want to tell.”

     Mookie snickered. “I know.”

     “No you don’t.”

     “Do too! I heard him tell Mr. Boyland once.”

     “What’d he tell Mr. Boyland?”

     Angus felt uncomfortable. This conversation wasn’t for him, but he didn’t feel as though he could politely leave--

     “He said it rotted off!”

     “Eeewww, no he didn’t.”

     “He did! He said if he wasn’t such a cuss cuss moron, his cuss arm wouldn’t have rotted off.” Mookie looked thoughtful. “He was real angry.”

     Mavis looked horrified. “Why?”

     “I don’t know. I went back to bed.”

     “Poor Mr. Highchurch,” said Angus. Mavis and Mookie seemed to remember he was there. Angus panicked. “Sorry, I--”

     “It’s okay,” said Mavis. “Dad is weird about stuff.”

     Angus decided not to pursue the vagueness of this comment and instead turned his attention back to the game. “Oh, look!”

     Julia was caught between two of the Golddiggers’ blockers and out of bounds, with Killian and Hurley off after their jammer just ahead and Carey knocked down somewhere behind. Noelle was coming in fast on the other side of the Golddiggers’ blockers. Julia hung back for a split second, yanked the panty off her helmet and passed it.

     With one fluid motion, Noelle took it with her good hand, slid it over her helmet, and took off past the Golddiggers.

     Mavis, Mookie, and Angus cheered and clapped. “Lookit her go!” crowed Mookie.

     “Hey kids.” Merle scooted between the benches carrying two hot dogs in paper boats. “Behold! Your dinner!”

     “Thanks, dad,” said Mavis, accepting one. Mookie took his with grabby hands and stuffed half of it into his mouth before saying, crumbs spewing, “‘Nks.”

     Angus tried to ignore how good it smelled. It had been dry cereal for dinner today. He watched as Killian plowed through two Golddiggers blockers, then clapped and tried to whistle with his fingers, like Johann did. He succeeded in getting spit on his fingers.

     “Look at that, Mavis,” said Merle. “Would you want to be strong and tough like her someday?”

     Mavis swallowed a bite of hot dog. “Not really.”

     Angus looked at Merle, curious to see what his reaction would be. Merle looked worried. “Why not, sweetheart? You could play on the derby team. You’d have lots of friends.”

     Mavis shrugged. “I don’t really want to play derby.”

     “Oh. Okay.” Merle really did look worried. Angus didn’t understand why. If he’d had a kid, he’d be more worried if she wanted to play derby. Unless she was big and strong like the derby girls were, and “big and strong” weren’t words he’d use to describe Mavis.

     “Do you kids want any drinks?” asked Merle.

     “Can I have a pop?” asked Mookie.

     “Sure, Fireball. Mavis?”

     “I’m okay.”

     “All right.” Merle shot a suspicious look at Angus and left them to watch the rest of the game. Magnus blew the whistle for the half.

     “That’s Magnus, right?” said Mavis.

     “Yes.”

     “It would be so cool to be a referee for this,” said Mookie. “Smash! Bang! All the time.”

     “I want to be ref,” said Angus. “Magnus says if I get good enough at skating I could be.”

     “You know enough about the rules,” said Mavis.

     “What’s he staring at?” said Mookie.

     They looked. He was speeding pretty quickly along the side of the track, looking at the center.

     “I think he’s looking at Miss Julia,” said Angus. And then, “Uh oh--”

     Magnus crashed into Merle, who was coming back with a soda. The soda burst, splashing them both.

     “Aww, my pop!” said Mookie.

     Magnus apologized and hurried away, looking like he was trying to sink into his own skin.

     The bout ended with a Golddiggers win, but a narrow one, 64 to 65. Overall a good game, Angus thought. It wouldn’t be too long until Carey and Killian were done in the locker room. Probably not enough time to skate, unfortunately.

     “I see why you like this game so much,” said Mavis. “I think you’ll be a great ref someday.”

     Angus beamed. “That’s so nice of you, Mavis.”

     “Hey, kids.” Merle waddled over to them, carrying a push broom. “We’re leaving just as soon as I sweep up. Why don’t you two go grab a candy from the concession stand?”

     “So late at night?” Mavis asked, but was drowned out by her brother shouting, “Can I have two?”

     Merle chuckled. “Okay, two. Small ones, though, not those big old licorice ropes.”

     Mookie whooped and ran off. Mavis ran after him, saying, “Mookie, wait!”

     Merle turned suddenly on Angus. “Okay, kid, what’s the deal?”

     Angus cringed. “I’m sorry about the track, sir, I really thought it would be okay--”

     “No, not--what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

     “Oh…” Angus searched his intentions. “Um. Nothing? Friendship, I guess?”

     Merle’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you, anyway?”

     “I just turned eleven, sir!”

     “So you don’t go to school with either of them?”

     “I’m in Mavis’ math class, sir.”

     Merle’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she that behind in math?”

     “No, sir. If she keeps passing math classes, she’ll be in Calculus in high school.”

     Merle leaned on his broom. “I see.” He looked back at Angus. “Smart kid, are you?”

     Angus shrugged. “People keep telling me so, sir.”

     Merle considered this, looking Angus over. “All right, tell me something. Why doesn’t Mavis want to join the derby team?”

     Angus screwed up his face in concentration. “From what I’ve observed of her, sir, she isn’t very aggressive. She’s more sensitive.”

     “Sensitive, huh?”

     “Yes, sir. She cried in class last week, sir. But in her defense, Mr. Jenkins is not a very patient teacher.”

     Merle sighed. “How’s she ever going to be tough if she cries about math?”

     Angus hesitated. This could get him in trouble. “Why does she need to be tough, Mr. Highchurch?”

     “Because.” Merle shifted the broom under his other arm. “There are people who’ll hurt her. She’s gotta be tough to survive it.”

     “What people, sir?”

     Merle opened his mouth to answer the question, and then shut it again. He glowered at Angus. “Mind your own damn business.”

     He steered the pushbroom away, muttering under his breath. Angus watched him go, kicking his legs under the bleacher seat.

Chapter Text

     Taako opened his yellow front door and smiled widely as he saw Kravitz waiting on his stoop. He always looked so put together, even in just some jeans and a plain navy t-shirt. Plus he was drop dead handsome too. Damn , Taako thought, wondering how he got so lucky.

     “I just expected you to be in the car,” Taako said, turning to lock the door behind him.

     “My mother always said that only barbarians and yankees honk at the curb. And she didn’t raise me to be either,” Kravitz replied with a smile, holding out his hand. Taako happily took it and they walked down to the car. “Is this okay? You said it was casual.” Kravitz pulled on the front of his shirt. Taako nodded.

     “It’s perfect.”

     Kravitz opened the car door for Taako and after he got in, jogged around to the other side.

     “Now before we get there,” Taako said, turning in his seat to face Kravitz as they pulled away, “there are some things you should know.”

     “...okay.”

     “B.M.G.B.N. is more than just a bowling night. You are going to be part of an elite team of masterminds, you are getting a chance to commune in our inner sanctum.”

     “Carey said that you all drink cheap beer, eat nachos, and then Hurley always wins.”

     “Well...I suppose technically that is what we do. But I just want you to be prepared. You’re not going tonight as Kravitz the documentarian. You’re going tonight as Kravitz, Taako’s new boyfriend.”

     “Ohhh.” Kravitz nodded slowly. “You could have just said that.”

     “That would be far too boring. Now attend, I love my friends. But they’re weird and pushy so I’m sorry ahead of time if they give you the third degree. Be prepared for questions about us, your time in college, your romantic past, your medical history, your intentions towards me, etc.”

     “My med--?” Kravitz looked, wild-eyed, over at Taako as he pulled into the parking lot.

     “Oh, and while this is a very decidedly gay Bi-Monthly Gay Bowling Night, you will be the first date I’ve ever brought with me. So there is that. Let’s go!” He opened the door and jumped out. Kravitz put the car into park and got out. Taako was already at the front door.

     “You coming?” he shouted back.

     “Yeah, hold on. I have to grab my bag.” Kravitz popped the trunk and pulled out his monogrammed bowling bag.

     “You have a bowling bag?” Taako asked when Kravitz finally joined him at the door.

     “You don’t?” Kravitz asked, holding the door open.

     “There you guys are!” Killian said, looking over from the old Paperboy game she was playing. She ran into some virtual bushes and the screen dissolved into green-tinted, ‘You lost. Try Again?’ screen. “We’re over there.”

     The rest of the group already had the end-most lane claimed. Sloane and Carey waved when they saw them. Hurley was dutifully typing in players’ names into the computer.

     “Heads up!” Sloane said, tossing a pair of shoes to Taako. “Size 11’s incoming.” Taako caught one but the other went astray.

     “We weren’t sure of your size, Kravitz.” Carey said. “So we guessed...12’s?” She held up a pair.

     “That’s actually correct.” Kravitz smiled. “But I already have my own.”

     Carey’s eyebrows raised. “People can own their own bowling shoes?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

     Kravitz bit the corner of his mouth, feeling a little self-conscious. “Uh, yeah.”

     “Wow! Cool.” She looked down at his bag. “Here, here, I can put your ball on the stand.” She took the bag from him, and set it down on one of the plastic seats. Carey let out a low whistle when she pulled the ball from the bag. It was black but had streaks of a rainbow of colors in it.

     “Nice, it’s like a goth Pride ball.” Carey said, adding it to the stand.

     “Alright!” Killian clapped her hands together and jumped down the half-step into the chair area. “Beer and nachos are ordered, AND I beat my high score on Dig-Dug.”

     Taako looked up from tying his shoes. “So you got to the third level this time?” He grinned.

     “Still two more levels higher than you, mon frere.” She pointed down at Taako. “I can feel it. This is my night, the night I finally defeat Hurley.”

     Hurley looked up from the keyboard. “In your dreams.” She made a fierce face, then laughed. “Kravitz, what do you want your bowling name to be?”

     Kravitz looked up at the screen. Hurley hadn’t put in any of their actual names, or even their derby names. There was The Hot One, The Good One, Aloha Suckers, Baddest Puta, and a Garryl. He blinked up at the board a few times.

     “Uh...I’m not sure.” he said, tying a double knot on his laces.

     “Well, it can’t be Kravitz. That’s boring.” Carey said. “And one of the rules of B.M.G.B.N.”

     “Ooh, ooh. How about Fancy Feet?” Sloane suggested.

     “Nah, it’s gotta be badass.” Hurley said, drumming her fingers on the plastic console.

     “But you always make mine The Hot One.”

     “‘Cause it’s true, babe. You’re so hot it’s scary.”

     Sloane narrowed her eyes at Hurley, but she blushed anyway.

     “Agent of Death!” Killian declared.

     “Ooh, I like that one. You okay with that, Kravitz?”

     “Yeah, sure.”

     Taako scooted over a seat. “I like it. It’s dangerous...but also sounds like you might wear a tie.”

     “Let’s play ball!” Hurley said, hitting a key. The machine at the end of the lane started up and dropped the pins down.

     Sloane stood and grabbed her ball, lining dutifully up to the lane. Three long strides and she threw the ball down, and it went directly into the left gutter. She twirled around and took a bow as they all clapped for her.

     “Thank you, thank you!” After a minute, she lobbed another gutter ball and then sat down next to Hurley. “We’re off to a great start.” She grinned and kissed Hurley’s cheek.

     “So Kravitz, did you bowl a lot back in Neverwinter?” Killian asked, standing to take the two beer pitchers from the waitress. Hurley was taking a while lining up her shot at the lane.

     “Kind of, I guess. After college, I was part of a league with a couple friends. We were pretty heavily invested there for a couple years, then we all got busy.”

     “Were you good?” she asked, pouring a cup for everyone.

     Kravitz shrugged. “I was okay.”

     Hurley made a spare, and she moon-walked back to the seating area. “The Good One will reign supreme!”

     “Not for long!” Killian took a quick swig of her beer and then hopped up to the lane to take her shot. 6 pins, and a gutter ball. “Okay, so maybe you will,” she said, sitting back down. Carey took her turn and also did a pretty poor job.

     “You may have already guessed, but all of us here suck at bowling. But on Tuesdays it’s $3 for a pitcher and the nachos aren’t half bad,” Killian explained as Taako stood up to take his turn. Double gutter ball for him too.

     “Your turn, Agent Reaper,” Taako said as he passed Kravitz, dragging a hand across his shoulders. Kravitz flexed his hands a few times; they were always cold, but they became frigid if he got nervous. Not that he should be nervous; they were all just there for drinks and a good time. He picked up his ball, and watched the machine release the pins and disappear behind the cosmos patterned wall.

     Deep breath. 1, 2, 3 steps and a smooth release. The ball sped down the lane and hit the 3rd pin. Strike.

     When he turned around, they were all clapping and cheering for him. He sat down next to Taako, who squeezed his shoulder.

     “I was okay,” Killian said in a terrible impression of Kravitz that for some reason had a British accent. She chuckled.

     “You better look out, Hurles. Looks like there’s a interloper aiming for your crown,” Sloane said.

     “We’ll see about that.”

     “So how did the B.M.B.G.N. start?” Kravitz asked, reaching for a chip from Taako’s plate.

     “Hey, get your own,” Taako said, pulling his plate away. But Kravitz’ arms were longer, so he still easily snagged a chip.

     “You mean, B.M.G.B.N.,” Sloane corrected him.

     “...yeah. That,” he said, around a mouthful of processed cheese and jalapenos.

     “It was by accident, right?” Carey chimed in.

     “Last year, was it?” Taako said. Killian nodded. “It was supposed to be a bowling night for the whole team, but everyone ended up bailing except for the five of us. We ended up having so much fun that it just sort of became a thing.”

     “Yeah, plus it’s just kinda nice to be with people who understand because, you know,  they’ve been there too,” Carey added.

     Hurley sat down in her seat after her turn and huffed out a breath. It was the fourth frame, and Kravitz was already leading by almost 30 points. Hurley was in second, and the rest of the group was trailing far behind. She was trying to be a good sport about it, but it obviously bugged her.

     “Ooh, I have a fun game!” Carey drummed her hands on the chair seat beneath her. “It’s called, The One Who Made You Realize.”

     Hurley and Taako laughed.

     “Realize what?”

     “Krav, you’re at the Bi-Monthly Gay Bowling Night,” Taako explained.

     “Oh, right.” He smiled sheepishly.

     “I’ll go first,” Sloane said, raising her cup as if for a toast. “1986, Demi Moore. I saw About Last Night when I was way too young. But that’s when I realized.”

     “Gay as hell?” Carey asked.

     “Gay as hell.” They clinked their glasses and giggled.

     “Gillian Anderson,” Killian said, looking off into the middle distance as she waited for her ball to return. “I was obsessed with X-Files, mostly Scully , and I didn’t even realize that not everyone felt that way. It wasn’t till I was talking about it with a friend that I realized that she didn’t see it at all like I did.”

     “Man, you didn’t know till 1993?” Hurley said.

     “I mean, there’s knowing and then there’s knowing , you know?” She turned to take her turn.

     “How about you, Hurley?” Carey asked.

     “There was a girl at a Catholic summer camp I went to in junior high, Andrea Ricci. She made me a friendship bracelet, and we kissed behind the pool shed on the last night. Never saw her again.”

     “ The Outsiders , Rob Lowe,” Taako offered. “The flannel shirt, and the gel. Whew, still gets me.”

     Carey snickered. “Mine was Lynda Carter. Watched Wonder Woman reruns every day after school for three years. Finally realized why in fifth grade.”

     “Alright, Kravitz, you’re the last one.” Killian sat down in Carey’s seat as she left to take her turn.

     “Well, I didn’t have a clue till college. And I just looked over at my freshman year roommate one day and realized that I liked him as more than a friend and had for some time. I never said anything, and he’s married now with three kids. Wish him all the best, but...he was the one.”

     “So are you out?” Carey asked, rejoining the conversation.

     “To my mother, yeah, and friends,” he said, sipping his now lukewarm beer. Taako stood to take his turn. “I don’t know about the rest of the family. They’ve probably already figured it out, but I just haven’t dated anyone that I liked enough to bring him home for them to meet.” He turned to watch Taako take a spectacularly awful turn and he smiled a little. “Well...till now,” he said quietly.

     Killian and Carey still heard and they smiled knowingly at each other.

     “Now, wait a second, wait a second,” Kravitz said, leaning forward in his seat and looking intensely into each of their faces. “You’re telling me that not a single one of you has e-mail?”

     It was the 8th frame, and Hurley had managed to narrow the gap between her and Kravitz. He was still several points ahead, but it was within the realm of possibility for her to still win. She was laser-focused on the game. Kravitz, however, was very distracted with the news of Taako and his luddite friends.

      “It’s kind of hard to have e-mail when you don’t have a computer,” Carey said, as she sprawled across several chairs and put her head in Killian’s lap.

     “But-but the internet is the future,” he insisted.

     Killian chuckled. “Come on, the web is neat and all, but it’s just a fad.” She was kidding, but Kravitz didn’t seem to realize that. He sputtered for a few seconds, much to the amusement of the rest of the group.

     “A-...the….It’s not a fad. I mean...it’s just a matter of time before the internet is everywhere.”

     “What would you even do if it was everywhere?” Sloane said, matching Killian’s tone.

     “Everything! You could look up and access all the information that humanity knows! You could connect to friends and family across the globe in an instant! You could shop online! Businesses can sell their goods on the web.”

     “That seems sketchy,” Taako commented.

     “Well, now it’s risky. But the day is coming where that will be the norm. And the businesses that are on the forefront of this wave will benefit from it. Like Sloane, your shop.”

     “No one’s gonna want to buy cars on the web,” she said.

     “Maybe not, but your business should have a website. A portal for a broader audience of potential customers to find out about your shop, get your contact information, and hire you.”

     She scrunched her mouth to one side. “I don’t know if i want just anyone to know about my garage.”

     Taako returned to his seat. “Your turn, Krav.”

     Kravitz sighed and went up to take his turn.

     “Is he okay?” Killian asked Taako quietly. “Usually he’s so mellow.”

     “Oh, yeah. There’s just a couple things that get his feathers all in a bunch. You just happened to find one. Isn’t it adorable?”

     Killian chuckled, and noticed the expression on Carey’s face. It was her thinking face. “Nacho chip for your thoughts?”

     Carey looked up after a moment. “Well, I was just…” Kravitz returned, having bowled a very distracted and terrible frame. “Kravitz, you know who you should talk to about this whole website stuff?”

     “Who?”

     “Magnus. You know, the ref?”

     “I’ve seen him around.”

     “He’s a carpenter and works for a contractor in town. The whole ‘broader audience’ thing would probably appeal to him. Make sense in his line of work. I’ll mention it to him next time I see him.”

     “Okay, yeah! ...Well, anyway point is, you should all get e-mails.” He picked up his beer again. “The day is coming when that’s going to matter more than your home address.”

     “Listen to this crazy man,” Killian joked. “Next thing we know he’ll be saying that everyone’s going to have to have a cellular phone in the future.”

     It was the final frame. Hurley had just broken 200, and the rest of the group hadn’t even reached 100. But Kravitz was still yet to bowl. He was just five points behind Hurley’s final score. He flexed his hands a few more times, before picking up the ball.

     “Come on, Kravitz!” Killian cheered.

     Deep breath. 1, 2, 3 steps and a release. However the ball rolled off to the right, and only knocked down 4 pins.

     “Yes!” Hurley hissed, fist pumping.

     “Oh, come on, Hurles. He just has to knock over one more pin, and he hasn’t thrown a gutter ball this whole game,” Carey reasoned as Kravitz waited for his ball to return.

     “Taako, can you help me out here?” Hurley asked.

     Taako glanced sideways at her. “I don’t think that would be very ethical if I did.”

     “B.M.G.B.N. isn’t about ethics, it’s about rules. And rule number 1 is Hurley. Always. Wins. It’s in the bylaws,” she insisted. Kravitz picked up his ball and lined up his shot.

     “What will you give me if I help you?”

     “A medium sized I.O.U.”

     “Make it a large. I am betraying my boyfriend.”

     Kravitz took a deep breath and took his first step.

     “Fine! A large! Please!” Hurley held out her hand, and Taako shook it.

     “HOT BOY!” he called in a loud echoing voice at the last moment. It was just enough to startle Kravitz and the ball fell from his hand. Kravitz turned around to look at Taako, but the rest of them watched the ball roll down the lane. It started down the middle, but then slowly curved to the right and fell into the gutter.

     “YES!! HURLEY. ALWAYS. WINS!!!!” she jumped up and down in the seat several times, jumped off into a somersault and hopped back up. “WOOHOO!”

     Kravitz chuckled and shook his head, coming to stand next to Taako and out of the way of Hurley’s continued celebration. “Hurley always wins, huh?”

     “Sorry, Krav, I don’t make the rules.” Taako shrugged. Kravitz smiled and gave him a kiss.

     “Hey, good game, Hurley,” he held out a hand, which Hurley shook enthusiastically.

     “Yeah, yeah. Good game. Sorry about pulling out the nuclear option there at the end, but you know, all’s fair in love and bowling.”

     Kravitz laughed, and bent down to take off his shoes.

     “Well, what now?” Taako asked. Carey and Killian were putting up the bowling balls.

     “We’re probably gonna head out,” Killian said. “I have an early shift at the gym tomorrow.”

     “Yeah, same for us,” Sloane said, changing her shoes.

     “Aw, come on,” Hurley said, her celebration finally winding down.

     “No, you said that you had to go in early to fill out the insurance paperwork, remember?”

     Hurley sighed. “Fine.”

     “Well, how about you?” Taako said, turning to Kravitz. “Do you have an early shift at the photo...store?”

     Kravitz zipped up his bag and shook his head. “Nope. You want to get some food? We could take it back to my place.” He slipped an arm about Taako’s waist as the group headed for the door.

     “Kravitz, I’m going to be honest with you, and say something that might be hard for you to hear. But it’s only because I like you so much....your apartment makes me sad.”

     Kravitz held open the door. “Why?”

     “Because it’s a beige box of nothing.”

     “It’s not nothing...I have some art...that I haven’t hung up yet...and my iBook...yeah you’re right. It’s terrible.”

     Taako nodded and waved to Carey and Killian as they got in their car. Sloane honked twice as they pulled away. Taako took Kravitz’s hand as they walked to the car.

      “I think I have some leftover rice and a salmon filet, ooh! I could make kedgeree.”

     “So how did I do?” Kravitz asked, opening the passenger side door. “Will I be invited back to the inner sanctum of B.M.G.B.N.?”

     Taako smiled and leaned on the top of the door. “You did perfect.” Kravitz let the door swing a little further open and kissed Taako, brushing his jaw with the backs of his fingertips.

     Taako pulled away after an extended moment, and had to take a deep breath. “That… hmm… yep. Good.” He cleared his throat and sat quickly down into the car, a large smile spreading across his face. Kravitz had a similar one on his own face as he shut the car door.

Chapter Text

     ‘The minds of Sergei Eisenstein, Vsevolod Pudovkin, and Dziga Vertoov rejected this style of working in the mid-1920s, and developed the Russian (or Soviet) Montage.’ Julia stopped typing on her electric typewriter for a second and reread the sentence.

     “Crap,” she whispered. She’d misspelled the last name. She pulled the page out of the carriage and grabbed her wite-out pot. She delicately painted over the extra o and blew on it to dry. This would be so much easier on a computer , she thought for the 18th time that hour. But she had a whole paper to write for her Film Theory class and she didn’t want to spend the entire night in the lab at the college. It always smelled like old Cheetos in there. She put the paper back in the carriage, scrolling it to the correct spot and tried to pick up her train of thought again.

     ‘The point was to draw attention to the camera work, the actors, and especially the editing, all through the juxtaposition of images through the use of montages.’ There was a tapping sound on her window. She looked at it, but there was nothing there. She ignored it and turned back to her paper.

     ‘To an uneducated audience, those who were well trained in watching invisible editing,’ Another plink against her windowpane. Still there was nothing there, so she kept typing. ‘watching Battleship Potemkin was a jarring experience.’ Another tap at her window, and Julia turned to look just as another small pebble came up and tapped against the glass.

     Furrowing her brow, she stood up and went to the window. She raised the blinds and looked down to see Magnus, arm raised and ready to throw another pebble. She smiled and waved, opening the window.

     “What are you doing?” she asked, folding her arms and resting them on the sill.

     “I wondered if you wanted to go to Chi-chi’s?” he asked, dropping the pebbles on the ground and dusting off his hands.

     “You could come to my front door, like the grown-ass adults we both are,” she said, smiling.

     Magnus nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “Honestly, that thought never occurred to me.”

     Julia laughed, and left the window, shutting it behind her. She grabbed her keys and a few bucks, slipping on her converse as she rushed out the front door. Magnus was waiting around the corner of the building, swinging his van keys on his finger. He dropped them when she came into view.

     “Alriiiiight. Chi-chi’s, let’s go!” he stooped down to pick up his keys.

     “I’m technically supposed to be working on a paper.”

     “So just time for the one Chi, got it.”

     Julia laughed, and shook her head. “You’re weird.”

     “But loveable.” He finger-gunned her and winked. Julia looked away and felt her cheeks grow warm. “So you wanna drive?” he asked.

     “Actually, do you know the back way?”

     “There’s a back way?”

     Julia grinned and started walking around the back corner of the building. “Follow me.” There was a gravel parking lot, if one could call it that, behind her apartment building. Then a field of tall grass, which ended in some woods. Julia headed straight into the treeline.

     “Kinda feel like you’re going to murder me now. They’ll find my body in three days and my tongue will be missing or something,” Magnus said, his foot slipping off a rock and catching himself on a tree.

     “Oh please,” Julia said, stepping over a fallen tree and sounding a little too casual for comfort. “If I wanted to murder you, they’d never find the body.”

     The woods ended suddenly, as space had been cleared for the train tracks that ran through town. “Welcome to the back way.” Julia pointed right. “Down that way is the rink.”

     “Oh, these are the tracks that run behind it.”

     Julia nodded. “Yup. And Chi-chi’s is this way.” She started to the left, her footsteps crunching in the gravel by the tracks. “It’s only about half a mile when you go this way. Me and my friends would do this all the time in high school before any of us had cars.”

     “So you’ve been here for a long time?” Magnus asked, falling into step beside her.

     “My whole life.” She reached down and picked a Queen Anne’s Lace as she passed by. The sun was setting behind them, painting the sky with pinks and oranges and just the faintest hints of navy. “When I was a kid, I always thought that as soon as I graduated I’d get out of this little podunk town. You can see how well that happened.”

     “What stopped you?”

     She picked a bit from the flower and let it flutter to the ground. “Money, mostly. And right when I graduated, my auntie, who was like a second mom, she got sick. So I stayed around to help take care of her.” Julia noticed the look of concern on Magnus’ face. “Oh, she’s fine now. Been in remission for, what, 7 years. Plus she met her husband in the cancer ward. So it all kinda turned out for the best.”

     “Except you’re still here.”

     “For now, yeah. Next year I’ll have my degree, finally. I’ll figure out what I want to do then.”

     “So let’s say that money is no object, what would your dream job be?”

     Julia thought for a moment. “Can I say heiress?” She grinned and laughed at her own joke. Magnus rolled his eyes, but smiled too.

     “Fine, I was just trying to start some interesting conversation--” he said in mock exasperation.

     “No, wait wait wait, I got it: a witch who lives in a gingerbread house in the forest. But instead of eating the children, I just feed them a bunch of candy and send them back to their parents all sugar high.”

     “I’m ignoring you,” Magnus said, walking faster. Julia jogged to keep up, grabbing his arm so he’d slow down.

     “Alright fine, you tell me yours and I’ll try and think of an acceptable one.”

     He looked at her with eyes narrowed, before snapping into an excited expression. “Okay, I think I’d be a pretty good knight.”

     Julia stopped in her tracks. “A knight? Like with swords and armor and stuff?”

     Magnus nodded, smiling earnestly. “Yeah! Knights are so cool, they save people and fight for justice. Get to ride around on horses and...you know...other knight stuff.”

     Julia started walking again, “What about something from this century?”

     “Hey, I said money was no object. Knight is a valid answer.”

     “Knight is as valid as candy witch.” She pointed a finger up at him. He sucked in the corner of his mouth.

     “Well...if I can’t be a knight…I’d probably be a carpenter.”

     “But you are a carpenter.”

     “Yeah.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “And I like being one.”

     Julia looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. “You really like it here, don’t you?”

     Magnus nodded, looking down at her. “Of course. I have a steady job, a roof over my head, good friends, a fun hobby, and you...gurt.” He winced but powered through his thought, “What more do you really need in life?”

     Julia looked away, and thought about what he said. “Huh.” She continued walking. Magnus fell back into step with her.

     “You didn’t say what job you wanted.”

     “Oh, right.” She tossed the remaining stem to the ground. “Money’s no object, right?”

     “Right. Sky’s the limit, spread your wings and fly away .” He snapped his fingers and sang in a purposefully awful R. Kelly impression. “ I believe I can sooooarrrr, I see me running through that open doo-o-o-or! ”

     “Oh, god, please, no,” she said, laughing at his falsetto attempt. He grinned and took a bow.

     “Okay, sorry, I’ll stop goofin’. So what’s the dream?”

     “If I could be anything...I’d want to be like Billie Holiday.” She nodded and smiled a little.

     “Who’s he?” Magnus asked. Julia looked at him with a shocked expression.

     “Billie Holiday? You don’t know her? She’s one of the most influential jazz singers of the 20th century.”

     “Ohhh, yeah, I don’t listen to a lot of jazz.” he offered. She shook her head.

     “You should. Jazz is the only truly American music style.”

     “What about disco? That was pretty American.”

     “I’m not sure that even qualifies as music,” she teased, crossing the tracks and heading for the sparse woods on the other side.

     “Hey! Them’s fightin’ words!” he called after her, before running to catch up to her.

     Chi-chi’s was the only fast food Mexican joint in town. It was a crumbling corporate pueblo-styled building from the early 80s that had mauve sombreros and other horrifying mashups decorating the interior. But it had 75¢ tacos and long business hours, so it remained open.

     Magnus and Julia stayed till the employees asked them to leave. They’d spent hours talking, but it felt like no time had even passed.

     “I still have my whole paper to write,” Julia groaned as they reached the stairs to her apartment. She stood on the first step and leaned back against the railing. Magnus leaned against the other railing.

     “Just tell your professor that your friend Magnus couldn’t go get tacos alone and you had to keep him company. That’s a very reasonable excuse, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

     They both laughed and sighed. When their gazes met again, the moment suddenly changed. It felt like the few feet between them was somehow both a mile wide and a hair’s breadth apart. Every hair follicle was thrumming with anticipation. Magnus broke the moment when he blinked and looked away, clearing his throat.

     “Well, you should ...probably get to your paper.”

     “Yeah, right,” she replied, suddenly finding herself out of breath. She swallowed hard and took the next step up. “Good night,” she said, waving a little and jogging up the stairs.

     Magnus waited till she was safely indoors before he turned and headed for his van. He ran a hand through his hair and took several deep breaths. He had to start keeping a better lid on those feelings; he almost did something really stupid just then at the stairs. Besides, she doesn’t even think of you like that, he reminded himself as he started the van and drove away.

     Julia watched Magnus’ van pull away through the crack she’d pulled in the blinds. She let them snap back into place and stood in the dark of her room for a second. Surely she hadn’t misread that moment on the stairs. It hadn’t just been her that time, right? Did he feel something too? Don’t go mixing up what you want with what’s actually happening, she told herself, flicking on the light and sitting down to write again.

Chapter Text

     Julia shimmied and jumped around her childhood bedroom, trying to pull the top of her pantyhose up to an acceptable location. The fishnets she wore for games never gave her this much trouble, she thought as she stopped to catch her breath. She went for one final tug, and her hand slipped off, smacking a picture frame off the dresser.

      “Crap,” she said quietly, picking it up and replacing it. It wasn’t broken, which was both good because Auntie Josephine wouldn’t fuss over it, and bad because it was a particularly awkward photo of Julia. Twelve years old, a mouth full of braces, hair very frizzy from the at-home Farrah Fawcett treatment she’d tried, and proudly displaying a short story she had written. A story about horses.

      “Everything okay in there?” Josephine called from the other side of the door.

     “Yes, just a second.” Julia pulled the skirt back into place on the dress, and slipped into the heels she was wearing. She stopped to look in the mirror on the back of the door. The entire outfit was borrowed. The shoes were Auntie Josephine’s, the necklace and earrings came from her neighbor, and the dress was, at one point, her mother’s. However, her mother had been a bustier woman than Julia was, so Julia ended up fussing with the cowl neckline, trying to get it to do something that would be acceptable in public. The black velvet was not complying.

     “I’m coming in,” Josephine said, pushing the door open.

     Julia jumped back out of the way, then held out her arms a little. “What do you think?” She twitched her mouth to the side.

     Josephine brought a hand up to her mouth. “You look as pretty as a picture,” she said, smiling broadly. “What you gonna do with your hair, baby girl?”

     “Um, leave it like this…?” Julia had let her curls simply lay where they fell. Josephine made a shocked face. “Or let you do something with it?”

     Josephine nodded, heading over to the table that was part desk, part vanity. Julia sat in the chair and picked up a few bobby pins, holding them up for her aunt to reach. Josephine chuckled a little.

     “Reminds me of when your daddy brought you over that first time.” Josephine finger-combed Julia’s hair back and away from her face. Julia smiled.

     “Dad had no idea how to braid my hair.”

     “I said, ‘Steven, you’re my brother and I love you. But you need help with this baby’s hair. She’s gonna look like a wild child if we don’t fix this now.’” They both laughed a little. But Julia’s thoughts drifted to the plans for the evening, and she began to frown.

     “Nervous?” Josephine asked, looking at Julia through the mirror and sweeping the hair up with a deft twist. She took a pin from Julia’s hand.

     “A little. I don’t know if Johann and I have practiced everything enough. Plus, you guys are making such a big deal about this.” Julia’s head rocked forward as Josephine anchored another pin in the twist. “It’s just Uncle Arnie’s club, it’s not Radio City Music Hall.”

     “Honey, for this town, my Arnie’s club is Radio City Music Hall. Hold your breath.” Josephine quickly blew on a layer of hairspray, then pulled a few hairs around Julia’s face out from the sweep. “What you think?” Julia turned her head side to side; Josephine had pulled her hair up into a very sophisticated french twist. It made her neck look longer. Julia smiled.

     “I look like Whitney Houston.”

     “Whitney Houston wishes she looked like you.” Josephine leaned over and opened on of the drawers. She pulled out a small bottle, and handed it to Julia. “Here. Your grandma’s perfume always helped me when I got nervous before a show.”

     Julia spritzed a little on her wrists and neck. She rubbed them together and inhaled the lavender scent. Memories of baking snickerdoodle cookies together, caring dutifully for baby dolls, and reading Dr. Suess books in that old rocking chair immediately sprang to mind. She smiled.

     “Better?” Josephine asked, smiling too.

     Julia nodded.

     “Are you decent?” Steven called from down the hall. “We better be heading out soon, or we’re going to be late.”

     “Come see your baby girl, Stevie,” Josephine yelled back. Steven cautiously entered the room, and Julia stood up. His eyes immediately teared up, and he nodded. He coughed and laughed a little hoarsely.

     “She looks so much like Ella,” Steven said. Josephine nodded and they shared a smile. Julia turned back to the mirror. Her relatives were always saying that she looked like her mom, but Julia never really believed them. She always remembered her mother as much prettier than Julia had turned out to be. Though in this moment, in this dress, she could almost see it. Steven came up behind her. “She’d be very proud of you.”

     “Dad, you promised you wouldn’t cry.”

     He smiled and nodded. “And I’m not. We should be leaving now; Arnie doesn’t like it when his performers are late.”

     Steven and Josephine left the room, but Julia took another minute in front of the mirror. Deep breath; she could do this.

     Uncle Arnie’s club was right in the middle of the four blocks of downtown their little city boasted. It had a bright blue neon sign above it that just said, ‘Jazz’ in looping font. You had to immediately walk down a flight of stairs, but then it opened into a large room with darkened lighting, red leather booths surrounding the edge, round tables scattered across the floor and always a crowd of customers. There was a band already on the stage when Julia, Steven, and Josephine arrived, and a large crowd in the audience. A very large crowd, most of whom Julia both recognized and looked like.

     “Did you invite the family?” she asked, turning back around to Josephine.

     “I may have mentioned it and they wanted to be here.”

     “Auntie Josephine, I didn’t tell anyone ‘cause I’m worried it’s going to be bad. And I wanted to embarrass myself in front of the least amount of people.”

     “Hey, Julia!” Uncle Arnie said, appearing at Josephine’s side. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and helped her with her coat. “We got a big crowd of people just for you.”

     “Is there a way we could call the Fire Marshall or something? I mean, surely this is too many people at one time.”

     “You could ask him, he’s right over there.” Arnie held up a hand. “Hey Paul.” Paul waved back.

     Julia frowned and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, realizing that there was really no way out of this situation, only through it.

     “Oh, Julia, two things. One, you’re on after this act. And two, does that skinny white boy in the $400 suit belong to you?” Arnie pointed over to the bar, where a jumpy Johann was nursing something in a tall glass. Julia headed over towards him.

     “Be sure to take off your biker jacket before you sing!” Josephine called after her as she left.

     “Hey,” Julia said, sitting next to Johann, who immediately looked relieved.

     “Oh, you came. I was so worried.”

     “Of course I came. Why, how long have you been here?”

     “Since it opened at four.” Johann nodded quickly, taking a drink. Julia nodded slowly, looking out over the crowd. She waved at some cousins.

     “My entire family is here,” she said, smiling but with a panicked look in her eyes.

     “Hey that’s great! I invited everybody else.”

     “What do you mean everybody else?” She turned abruptly to look at him.

     “Friends from derby. Though I think I only got one person who said they’d come see me perform. So it’s good your family’s here. Nice to have fans in the audience.”

     Magnus pushed open the door to the club, and walked down the stairs. The band on the stage finished a loud chord and the whole place broke out in applause. He scanned the large room, but didn’t see Johann or even a single person who looked vaguely familiar. He’d dubiously accepted Johann’s invitation; it seemed like the sort of thing friends do, though Magnus definitely expected more of a coffeehouse open mic night if Johann’s karaoke skills were anything to go on. This place was classy and the band sounded downright professional.

     He took a seat at one of the few open tables that was off to the far right. A waiter came by and he ordered a whiskey as the band left the stage. He drummed his fingers on the table and continued to look for Johann. There was no sign of him. Magnus decided that if he couldn’t find him by the time he’d finished his drink, he could call it. No use sitting in a club by himself all night.

     “Alright, alright, let’s hear it one more time for Neverwinter Jazz Quintet.” A lanky man in a dapper navy suit hopped onto the stage, holding a microphone, as the audience applauded again. “Thanks for coming out here tonight, fellas. And thank you to all of you for joining me here at Arnie’s. I am, of course, Arnie.” He smiled a charming grin and winked. The audience laughed and there were a few whistles. “And I have a spectacular line up for y’all tonight. To kick it off, we have our first act. Now, I’ve known half of this act for quite a few years now, ever since I married her aunt Josephine.” He pointed into the audience and winked as there was a ‘whoop’, probably from Josephine. “And the other half, I had the pleasure of meeting this evening. But I can already tell you this is gonna be a good one, folks. You ready?” The audience gave a loud cheer, and Magnus took a sip of his whiskey. “Alright, appearing for the first time at Arnie’s, it’s Johann and Julia!!”

     Magnus spat part of the whiskey back into the glass, and inhaled the other half. He coughed as the audience clapped and cheered. Julia and Johann walked out on stage, and Magnus’ mouth fell open. Arnie whispered something in Julia’s ear and she nodded, taking her place behind the microphone next to the piano. Johann sat at the keys and looked up at her. She nodded to him, and he immediately launched into a jazzy upbeat tune.

     Magnus couldn’t take his eyes away from Julia. She was always beautiful to him, but the way she looked right now, he didn’t have the words to describe. She smiled shyly at the audience and brought a slightly shaking hand up to the mic.

The way you wear your hat,

The way you sip your tea.

The memory of all that

Oh, no, they can’t take that away from me.

     He could tell she was nervous, but as she continued, she got more confident and her tone grew smoother. Her voice was rich, and warm. He knew she was a good singer from karaoke, but that didn’t even compare to how she sounded now. Magnus never wanted her to stop singing. His toes kept curling inside his shoes and he had to remind himself to breathe more than once. Right now, it was more than just that she was the most beautiful woman Magnus had ever seen. She was radiant, glowing with confidence and joy.

     She beamed and her shoulders visibly relaxed as the song finished and the crowd cheered.

     “Say, that was pretty good, Johann,” she said.

     “You think so?” he said, fanning his face in an exaggerated way. “I feel red as a to-mah-to.”

     She shot him a look. “Do you mean to-may-to?”

     “That’s what I said, to-mah-to.”

     Julia pulled a face. “You know, I don’t think this is working, let’s call the whole thing off.”

     “Well not before we sing about it,” said Johann.

     The audience laughed, and Johann began to play and sing,

You say to-may-to

I say to-mah-to

You say po-tay-to

And I say po-tah-to

     Julia took it over:

To-may-to, to-mah-to

Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to

Let’s call the whole thing off.

     Johann’s voice was a little whitebread for the style, but they worked well together, harmonized great. Magnus was hardly a jazz aficionado, but it was easy to tell Julia’d had formal training. Or maybe she was just that good.

     They sang a few more songs, sometimes with jokes in between. They seemed to be keeping things deliberately playful and not romantic between them; when Julia sang love songs, she sang them to the audience. Break-up songs, on the other hand, they sang together, playing up awkwardness.

     “ I thought I’d found a man I could trust ,” sang Julia at one point, and Johann feigned a look of grave offense.

What a bust!

This is how the story ends,

I’m gonna turn him down and say

‘Can’t we be friends.’

     The whole bit had the audience in stitches, Magnus included. He’d always liked the aesthetic of jazz. He’d had this book when he was a kid, just a crappy pulp novel he’d found in a library’s cast-off pile, about a noir detective and a lounge singer.

     God, he hadn’t thought about that for a while. Maybe he still had it somewhere. Or no, his mom had taken it, because she’d cracked open to a random page and--

     Oh, yes. It had been that kind of pulp novel. Thirteen-year-old Magnus had found it very educational. Funny that he should think of it now.

     “We’ll be taking a little break after this next song,” said Julia, “but first, look around you. Find someone you love. This song is for you.”

     Her words drew him in. He finished off his whiskey and listened intently.

     Johann played something slow and quiet. Julia closed her eyes, swaying a little, and sang,

After one whole quart of brandy

Like a daisy, I'm awake

With no Bromo-Seltzer handy

I don't even shake...

     Magnus nearly fell off his chair. That was the song, the song from the book!

Men are not a new sensation

I've done pretty well I think

But this half-pint imitation

Put me on the blink.

     Magnus felt the blush creeping up his neck. Now he remembered all kinds of things he’d imagined as a teenager, himself as a manly, mysterious noir detective, meeting a sexy lounge singer in the dead of night...

I'm wild again, beguiled again

A simpering, whimpering child again

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered

Am I ...

     And now, suddenly, the lounge singer had a face, a voice, a--oh god--a body. Mortified, Magnus covered his mouth with his hand and stared at the table for the remainder of the song.

     Johann’s last note died away, and the club burst into applause. Magnus buried his head in his hands. Of all the places, for all the people, why did he have to have such a vivid set of images in his mind now?

     “Magnus!”

     Magnus looked up. Johann meandered over from the stage.

     “Thanks for coming,” said Johann. “It’s nice to have a familiar face in the house.”

     Magnus would have paid big money to see no familiar faces ever again. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

     Johann looked at him quizzically. “Are you okay?”

     “Great,” Magnus yawped.

     “Cool, cool. Hey, Julia will want to know you’re here. I’ll bring her over.”

     “No!”

     Johann blinked. “Why not?”

     Magnus got up and ran, calling behind him, “I have to go!”

     Johann looked after him, mystified, and then looked at his empty glass on the table. “Hey!” he yelled. “Magnus, did you even pay your bill?”

     But Magnus was gone.

     Julia tore herself away from a cousin reunion when Johann came back to the stage. “How much time do we have left?”

     Johann checked his watch. “Another minute or two before the second set.”

     “Great, I can say hello to whoever came from the B.o.B.” She stood on tiptoes and scanned the restaurant. “Who did you say it was?”

     “Oh, Magnus.”

     Julia froze. “...Magnus is here?”

     Johann shrugged. “He was. He just left.”

     She turned to face Johann. “What? Why?”

     “I don’t know. It was kind of weird.”

     Julia sputtered. “Well, did he say anything?”

     “No, he just ran out. Stuck me with his bill, too. Why does he keep doing that?”

     “Johann.” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “This is very important. Was he upset? Angry? Bored? What?”

     Johann leaned away from her. “I don’t know! He didn’t seem bored--”

     “Give me something, Johann, anything!”

     He furrowed his brow in concentration. “I don’t know, maybe he looked kinda--” Johann’s face fell into an epiphany-- “turned on?”

     Julia’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, what ?”

     “Time for you to go back on,” interrupted the cheerful voice of Uncle Arnie. His smile dissolved when he saw the looks on their faces. “You two having problems?”

     Julia released Johann. “No. No, we’re fine.”

     Johann brushed the wrinkles out of his suit. “We’re ready. Come on, Julia.”

     “But--”

     “The show must go on,” Johann said, as though intoning sacred text. “We can deal with Magnus later.”

     “ We ?” Julia squeaked.

     He was already sitting back down at the piano. Julia stared wild-eyed at the stage. She couldn’t possibly--

     No. No. She had to. She would finish the set. She would completely ignore this turn of events. Julia took her place onstage. She could do this. Focus. Focus.

     “Julia?”

     Her head snapped up. “Sorry?”

     “I said,” said Johann, “you seem distracted.”

     The audience laughed. Julia took a deep breath. “Sorry, I was far away.”

     “Must’ve been pretty far,” said Johann.

     “It was. A little place called Birdland.”

     Magnus leaned against his van and watched the stars come out. Maybe he’d wait a little longer.

     He’d started by dumping a bottle of water on his head, which helped. Then, of course, his good shirt was all wet. He’d tried to dry off with a towel from the back, which only meant that now he was damp and covered in sawdust. And embarrassed, don’t forget embarrassed.

     It was probably for the best he couldn’t go back in, he reflected. So he’d wait out here. He had to at least tell them he’d enjoyed their act.

     Maybe not specifically how much he’d enjoyed their act, but still.

     Unfortunately, when Julia emerged, it was in a group of family members. He sighed. Oh well. He’d just talk to Johann tomorrow.

     But as he opened the door of his van, he heard Julia say, “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys.”

     He turned. She was coming toward him. He tried his best to look nonchalant. “Hey.”

     “Hi.” Julia, for her part, tried to look him in the eye instead of at the ridiculous dusty shirt he was wearing. Had he worn that inside? “Um. You’re still here.”

     “Yeah,” he said sheepishly.

     “Johann told me you’d left?”

     Magnus stopped himself from saying something stupid. “I uh, spilled something on myself.”

     Julia glanced at his hair, which was wet. “On your head?”

     “Yeah…”

     They were quiet for a moment, neither looking at the other.

     “It was a great show,” he said. “The first half, anyway. You’re a really good singer.”

     Julia relaxed a little. “You think so?”

     “Yeah,” he said, relaxing himself.

     “I was so nervous,” she said.

     “After the first song, I couldn’t even tell.”

     She smiled, and Magnus’ heart danced. Well, it was now or never. Time to rush in.

     “Hey,” he said, “I was thinking--”

     He was interrupted by Julia’s hand on his neck, pulling his head--his lips--to hers in a kiss.

     He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back.

     The stars were out now.

     After a moment that seemed both too long and never, never long enough, Julia released his neck.

     “I should… get to my family,” she said, her voice breathy and low.

     “Okay,” he managed, even though he felt like all the air had been sucked out of the world.

     She laughed, softly. “You’ll have to let me go, then.”

     He dragged his arms to his sides, and then brushed a curl from her face. “That was…”

     “Yeah,” she agreed.

     “I’ll, um.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

     “Yes. Oh! Yes. At practice.”

     “After practice?”

     She smiled, and his knees went weak. “After practice.”

     She left. Magnus fell back against his van and ran his hand through his hair, and laughed.

Chapter Text

     Julia kept a straight face. She kept it when she rejoined her family around the corner. She kept it through the celebratory drink they took her out for afterwards. She kept it the whole ride home. She felt like cracks might be forming in her face as she said the quickest good-bye possible, claiming homework and important practices and work in the morning, anything to get her back into her apartment.

     But soon enough she was pounding up the stairs, her hands shaking as she argued with the lock on the front door. It took her several tries to get it open. Then she slammed the door shut behind her and finally --FINALLY-- she was alone.

     In the quiet dark of her empty apartment, she took a deep breath and kicked off her heels. Wow. That had actually happened. She had kissed Magnus Burnsides. And Magnus Burnsides had kissed her back. All at once the emotions she’d been keeping a lid on since the kiss suddenly sprang forth. Letting out a joyful shriek, she lept into the air, and spun around in a circle, like she was in a damn tampon commercial. She had kissed Magnus. And Magnus had kissed her. She walked quickly around her small living room for several minutes, shaking her hands and smiling so wide that it felt like her face might combust. She felt like she could run forever or jump to the moon. She’d kissed Magnus! Magnus had kissed her! She had to talk to someone.

     She grabbed the phone and quickly typed in a number with shaking hands.

     “This is Lucre-”

     “MAGNUS AND I KISSED,” Julia interjected, not able to contain herself any longer.

     “Wait, what?? ”

     “We kissed! We kissed! We kissed!!! Magnus and I!! We kissed!” Julia practically sang, jumping up and down in her kitchen. Every time she repeated it, her heart grew brighter.

     “Okay, calm down,” Lucretia said, laughing.

     “Calm?!! I can’t be calm!! Did you hear me?? We kissed!” She plopped down to sit on the floor of her kitchen, keening joyfully. She slipped her stocking feet back and forth against the linoleum, and slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from repeating the words over and over again.

     “So, do you want to tell me the whole story?” Lucretia said in a very amused tone.

     “Yes, please!” Julia launched into the story of the whole evening, sparing absolutely no detail. Every moment, every emotion, every breath was carefully combed over and examined. Lucretia listened, asking just the right questions, and graciously letting Julia just giggle for several minutes in a row. When she finished, Julia let out a breath and fell over the rest of the way onto her floor. The cool linoleum and the fact that she’d finally been able to tell someone was helping her calm down.

     “I just… I’m really happy right now,” she said, a large smile still on her face.

     “So you really like him, huh?”

     “I do… I haven’t felt this way in a very long time, if I’ve ever even felt this before.”

     “Magnus is a good guy.”

     “Yeah, he is,” she repeated dreamily.

     “When are you going to see him next?”

     “After practice.”

     Lucretia chuckled. “So I guess you have some phone calls to make if you’re going to tell everyone before tomorrow evening.”

     “Actually, I figured I would just have to call one more person.”

     There were a lot of things about Taako’s apartment that Kravitz really liked. Taako had the softest sheets he’d ever felt in his life. When he’d stay over, Taako would bake scones in the morning and they’d eat them while watching reruns of old Looney Tunes on his staticky television. And it always smelled nice, like pomegranates and eucalyptus and flour. But if there was one thing that Kravitz would change about Taako’s apartment, it would be the fact that he kept his phone right by the bed. And that phone had a habit of ringing at odd hours of the night.

     So when it started ringing at 12:17 in the morning, Kravitz had half a mind to toss it out the window and gleefully watch it smash into oblivion on the street below. But Taako was faster than he was; Taako had leapt half across Kravitz and was now lying perpendicular on Kravitz’s stomach, the blasted phone already in hand.

     “Yello?” he said, sounding much more awake than Kravitz felt.

     “Taako, I can’t breathe,” he mumbled. Taako waved a hand to shush him.

     “Jules, can you repeat that?”

     “Tell Julia to call back in the morning,” Kravitz said, pulling the pillow up and over his head. Why couldn’t people call at normal times of the day? Surely nothing was that important.

     “You WHAT?” Taako shouted, pushing himself up to sitting. Kravitz let out an ‘OOF’ as he suddenly had Taako’s hand where his diaphragm used to be. “OH MY GOD, I KNEW IT. I called it! I totally called it. Kravitz, tell her I called it!” He took the pillow off Kravitz’ head and held the phone out. He grumpily put it up to his ear.

     “I’m sure whatever it is, Taako did in fact call it. Goodnight, Julia.” He hung up the phone and put it back on the nightstand.

     “Wait, what are you doing?” Taako scrambled across Kravitz and picked back up the phone, hitting redial and turning on the lamp. Kravitz groaned and pulled the pillow back over his head. “Julia? Sorry about that, Kravitz is not a morning person. Now, tell me everything. I want every infinitesimal detail.”

     Somewhere in the next 45 minutes, Kravitz ended up drifting back off to sleep, which was pretty impressive, given how Taako was pacing about the apartment, alternately tripping over shoes and yelling with Julia. From what he gathered before he fell back asleep, Kravitz guessed that Magnus and Julia had finally bitten the bullet and gotten together. Bully for them , he thought, now let me sleep .

     However the sound of Taako’s keys jingling woke Kravitz back up. He cracked an eye open to see Taako in a very old red skort with a 1992 Neverwinter Pride button on the butt, and an unbuttoned faded tropical print shirt. Taako was shaking out a paisley patterned blanket, and the keys fell out and smacked onto the floor.

     “Ah-ha!” he said, quickly grabbing them and heading for the stairs to the front door.

     “Where are you going?” Kravitz asked, sitting up and fully awake now.

     “I have to tell everyone!” he said, rushing down the stairs and out the door. Kravitz jumped out of bed after him.

     “Taako! You don’t even have on shoes!!”

     Magnus hopped into his van. He tapped the steering wheel manically with his thumbs. That had really happened. That had really happened!

     He pumped his fist. “YES!”

     He could jump off of buildings. He could break bricks with his head. Anything was possible because Julia had kissed him, and he’d got to kiss her back.

     He leaned into the steering wheel, laughing breathlessly. He had to do something! Anything! Something dumb, maybe! Going home to his depressing, cold apartment was out of the question.

     He started up his van and drove to Avi’s.

     The van flew as if powered by the glow in his own chest, and he only almost got into a wreck once.

     He leapt up the walk to Avi’s front door and pounded. “Aviii!”

     Avi opened the door quicker than Magnus expected, wearing sweatpants and no shirt. “Magnus? What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing’s wrong, nothing could be wrong, ‘cause--”

     “Sssh!” Avi stepped out onto the stoop and closed the door most of the way behind him. “Tony’s sleeping.”

     “Who’s Tony?” said Magnus.

     “Have you never met Tony?” Avi looked perplexed. “Do you ever assume that all your friends know each other? I’ll have to introduce you later. But anyway--”

     “Julia kissed me,” Magnus blurted. “She kissed me! I never thought--like I didn’t even hope --but she likes me!”

     “My man!” Avi slapped him on the back. “We should go out right now .”

     “What about Tony?”

     “I’ll leave her a note. We’ve gotta celebrate this!”

     Refuge didn’t have set closing hours; Ren tended to kick everyone out by sometime around 1am, although she’d stay open for special occasions, like when Magnus burst in and declared he was buying a round.

     The ten people left in the pub cheered. Ren rolled her eyes and pulled out more glasses.

     “Tell me how it happened,” said Avi, scooting onto a chair at the bar. “Oh, look, there’s Sloane.” He waved.

     Sloane was turned toward the wall of a booth. She waved, and then turned back inward.

     Magnus hesitated, kept his voice low. “I’m kind of worried what the B.o.B. will think. They’re so protective, and--”

     “I would not worry about it, dude,” said Avi. “They have a betting pool.”

     Magnus was both relieved and offended. “They thought we’d--”

     “We all did, man, it was really just a matter of time.”

     Magnus considered. “Who won?”

     Avi shrugged. “Probably Killian. She always wins.”

     Magnus took a long drink of his beer. “I just can’t believe we kissed.”

     “You did WHAT??” Hurley appeared behind Sloane, face covered in Sloane’s lipstick, clambering over her girlfriend to the bar. “I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

     Sloane followed her and smiled sweetly at Magnus. “Thank you, I just won the pool.”

     “Ohhh no you didn’t,” said Hurley. “I won. It’s like two weeks over your date.”

     “It’s still way closer than your date,” said Sloane.

     “I thought we were doing Price is Right rules!”

     “We have never done that.”

     Avi raised his glass to Magnus. “See? Even her friends like you.”

     “Ren!” The door burst open again, and Taako ran in half-dressed to the bar. “Ren you’ll never guess--”

     “Magnus and Julia kissed,” said Ren. “Oh my god, Taako, where are your shoes?”

     “Taako!” Kravitz appeared in the doorway in grey silk pajamas and Oxfords, holding a pair of flip-flops in the air. “For the love of god--”

     Taako spotted Magnus, Avi, and the bickering Hurley and Sloane. “What the hell, guys, I wanted to tell everyone!”

     Magnus was overwhelmed. Julia’s friends, who cared about her so much, thought they were destined for each other. He wrapped Taako in a hug. “I didn’t know you cared!”

     Taako stiffly patted him on the back. “Uhhhhhh the drama, my dude. I love the drama. Now maybe don’t…”

     Mangus released him, and Kravitz moved in, shoving the shoes into his stomach. “I swear, if I wasn’t here, you’d run around naked--”

     “Thanks, babe.” Taako said, holding onto Kravitz’s shoulder as he slipped on the flip flops. Kravitz looked moderately satisfied and sat down next to Hurley at the bar.

     “Gin and tonic, please, Ren.”

     “Taako, tell Hurley I won the bet,” said Sloane.

     “It depends, are we playing Price is Right rules?” said Taako.

     She threw up her hands. “When have we ever done that?”

     Magnus sat back down, watching his friends, feeling a high that wasn’t just from Julia, although--god, Julia. Holy shit , Julia . But this was something else, too, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

     This felt like home.

Chapter Text

     It was well past 3 am by the time Magnus’ van rumbled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. Despite the late hour, and the celebration he’d just left, he knew he’d have trouble sleeping. A smile slipped across his face as he shut the van door and jogged to the stairs. He whistled a jaunty tune and swung his keys around his pointer finger as he walked to his front door.

     “Hello, Magnus,” a cool voice came suddenly from the darkness.

     “ Puta madre! ” Magnus practically jumped out of his skin and he looked around wildly. It took a moment, then he spotted her. Lucretia was sitting in his neighbor’s plastic lawn chair by the front door. She seemed very out of place on the sagging porch of his apartment. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

     “Careful, you might wake the neighbors,” she said in that same cool tone.

     He cleared his throat. “Um, what are you--how did you… how long have you been waiting?”

     She shrugged. “Not that long.”

     “...How did you know where I live?”

     She smiled slyly and looked away. “I heard about you and Julia,” she replied instead. At the mention of her name, that warm feeling returned again, though it was accompanied by confusion and, if he was honest with himself, a little fear. She looked back at him and seemed to notice his confused expression. “Taako called me from Refuge.”

     “Oh.”

     “But Julia called me even before Taako did.” She stood up and crossed her arms. Somehow she seemed even taller than he was in this moment. “Which is why you and I need to have a little chat.”

     He relaxed a little. Oh, that’s what this was about. “Sure.” He nodded and unlocked the door. “Come on in.”

     Lucretia waved him ahead. “After you.” Magnus paused, but went in anyway. Lucretia shut the door solidly behind her. “Have a seat.” she said, clicking on a lamp. It felt weird to be taking, well, orders in his own house, but he sat down on the futon that he’d gotten from Goodwill the week before.

     “Sorry, I don’t have much in the way of furniture.”

     Lucretia pulled up the end of the coffee table and sat down across from Magnus. She rested her elbows on her knees and steepled her fingers, calmly studying Magnus’ face. Magnus tried to match her gaze, but found that he couldn’t hold it for very long without breaking into a sweat.

     “Look, I… I think I know what this is about,” he began cautiously.

     “Do you?” she asked, not breaking her gaze.

     “Yeah, this is the ‘she’s my best friend, if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you’ talk. Right?”

     “Is it?”

     Magnus tried to search her face for any shred of a hint, but it was a poised mask. He began to feel like he was wrong, but he pressed on anyway.

     “Well, yeah. I don’t know what other reason you’d have for showing up at my house at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

     Lucretia blinked and smiled a little. She stood up and began to slowly walk around the room, which somehow Magnus found more unnerving than her sitting still. He swallowed and continued, “I’ve dated girls before, I know what the talk is. I promise, hurting Julia is the last thing I would ever want to do. I really like her.”

     “That’s nice to hear, Magnus. And you’re not completely wrong,” she said, looking at the three books Magnus had on the built-in shelf. “Julia is my best friend. And there will be consequences if you hurt her.” She turned around to face him, crossed her arms and leaned back against the shelf. “But I should tell you that if such an occurrence happens, I will be second in a very very long line.” She was quiet for a moment, looking at him expectantly. “Do you know who will be first?”

     Magnus thought. He was pretty sure Julia didn’t have any brothers. “Her… dad?”

     Lucretia closed her eyes and shook her head. “Julia,” she said.

     “Oh.” He looked down, a little confused. This wasn’t how the talk usually went.

     “Now, I know you two just kissed this evening, and it’s all still very new, and you might not even like the term dating.” She rolled her eyes a little. “But before you dare to take one more step down this path with my best friend, there are some things I need to make sure you understand.”

     Magnus nodded. “O-okay.”

     “I have known Julia for almost a decade; in that time do you know how many men she has decided to go on a second date with?”

     Magnus slowly shook his head.

     “It’s five. She’s not a person who pursues romance with just anyone, and that tells me that you must be pretty special.” Magnus blinked a few times. This wasn’t so bad. “In fact, she called me in what can only be described as a tizzy after your kiss.” Lucretia paused. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

     He smiled and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck where he could still faintly feel her fingers. “Yeah, I feel about the same.”

     “Have you ever been in love, Magnus?” Lucretia asked, moving back towards the coffee table.

     “Um, maybe once before, but I’m not sure.”

     She shook her head as she sat down on the table across from him again. “Then you haven’t. When you’re in love--and I mean real love, not the stuff that those dopey songs and perfume commercials are about--you know.” For the first time since she’d been there, the placid mask slipped a little as she looked away from him and frowned.

     “...And you have?” he asked quietly.

     “What?” She blinked as if being brought out of deep thought.

     “You’ve been in ‘real love’ before?”

     Lucretia nodded. “I have,” she said, smiling though her eyes still looked solemn, even sad. “And I think that you and Julia have a very good shot at getting there too.” She sat up a little straighter. “Now I’m not saying that you and Julia will get married, have 18 children, and die in each other’s arms.”

     Magnus chuckled a little.

     “But this has the chance to become something real. And that is not to be taken flippantly.” Her dark eyes seemed to bore in Magnus. “A relationship like this will take everything you have, every ounce of courage you possess. You have to be brave enough to be completely honest with her, to open up and leave yourself vulnerable. Because if you try to protect yourself, if you try to hide, if you try to run, if you keep yourself closed from her, it will not work. The relationship will shrivel and die.” She paused and shook her head. “It is the scariest thing a person can possibly do in this whole lifetime.

     “But if you can find it, if you can be brave enough for it…” she looked away from him, a far-off look in her eye, “Nothing else will compare. It is… as close as we get to Heaven on this side.”

     Magnus thought deeply for awhile in silence. “...That seems… dangerous.”

     She looked back to him and nodded slowly. “It is. You will get hurt. There’s no way around that. The only way to keep yourself from being hurt would be to keep yourself completely closed off. And that’s no way to live life, let alone a relationship as special as you and Julia.”

     He nodded, and looked up when Lucretia put her hand on his shoulder.

     “So my challenge to you, Magnus, is to decide if you are ready for something real. You need to take stock and figure out if you have enough to give Julia the chance she deserves. Take some time, and really think about it. Because Julia is ready. And if you’re not, you’d both be better off if you ended it right now.”

     She nodded and gave his shoulder a solid pat. She stood up and left the apartment.

     Magnus heard her car start after another minute and it drove away. He didn’t move for a while, till finally he stood in a daze and clicked off the lamp.

Chapter Text

     Angus frowned and untangled his fingers from the string once again. Mavis had made it seem so simple on the playground that afternoon.

     “Hold it tight between thumb and pinky,” he said under his breath, jostling a little as Killian’s car turned a corner. “Then one pointer, and another.” He slipped his pointer fingers under the string, which was actually an old shoelace, and pulled it across. He was about halfway to a Cat’s Cradle, or maybe a teacup since he was just playing alone.

     “So what do you think’ll change?” Carey asked, sitting cross legged in the front seat.

     “What do you mean?” Killian brought the car to a stop in front of a cross walk, glancing at Carey.

     “Well, he can’t go on being the ref, now can he?”

     “Oh, I hadn’t even thought about that.” Killian signaled her turn. “This’d be a pretty big conflict of interest, huh?”

     Angus looked up from his failing and tangled string game. “What do you mean ‘conflict of interest’?”

     “It means when someone wants two things but they can’t have both at the same time.” Carey offered.

     “I know what it means, I meant what do you guys mean? Why can’t someone be the ref anymore?” Carey and Killian made eye contact and had one of those silent conversations that adults often have around children. “Did something happen to Mr. Avi? Or Magnus?” his voice was rising a little in panic.

     “No, nothing happened to them. They’re both doing fine.” Killian consoled him.

     “Magnus is doing more than fine,” Carey said under her breath and smirking a little. Killian gave her a look. “Sorry.”

     “Um… how do I say this?” Killian said, as they pulled into The Adventure Zone parking lot. She unbuckled her belt and turned around in her seat. “Magnus and Miss Julia are… dating.”

     “Kinda,” Carey added.

     “Yeah, kinda. Nothing’s official yet. It’s really new for them.”

     Angus smiled and nodded, carefully putting away his string. “I see now.” They all got out of the car, and started heading for the door. Angus looked at the grassy field behind the building and got an idea.

     “Actually, um, is it okay--can I um, play in the field today?” he asked.

     Carey and Killian looked at each other. “You’ll stay off the train tracks?” Carey asked.

     “Oh, of course.”

     “Not too long, alright? You come inside before it’s dark.”

     Angus nodded quickly, “Yes, ma’am!” and he ran off to the field. Carey and Killian shook their heads and went into practice.

     Julia stopped at the water fountain, bending low for a long drink. Practice went well, they were going to be more than ready for the bout that weekend. But even better, practice seemed to fly by and she was expecting Magnus any minute. She smiled at just the thought of him, but first she’d better go get changed. She spun around and almost tripped over Angus, who was standing right behind her.

     “Whoa, didn’t see you there, buddy,” she said, steadying herself on his shoulders. “Gotta watch out where I’m going.”

     Angus, however, seemed to be concentrating on something. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and his little mouth was squished into frown.

     “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning down to his eye level. “Everything okay at school?”

     Angus nodded. “Oh, yes. I just… wanted to give you this.” He held out a bundle of wildflowers that he’d tied into a small bouquet with a shoelace.

     “What’s this?” Julia knelt down and cupped his hands in hers, leaning forward to smell the flowers.

     “Miss Killian and Miss Carey told me about you and Magnus,” he explained. “And my grandpa says that when you’re happy for someone, you should get them flowers.”

     Julia’s heart melted. “Oh, Angus.” She pulled him in for a tight hug, rocking side to side a little. “Thank you.” She placed a kiss on top of his head and sat back. “It means a lot to me that you’re happy for us.”

     Angus’s whole face lit up when he smiled. “Of course I’m happy for you, Miss Julia. You and Magnus are some of my favorite people.”

     Julia smiled. “Well, you’re one of mine.”

Chapter Text

     Magnus drove up to the back door of the rink. Did he have time to wash his face in the rink sink? He wished he’d managed a shower after work.

     He’d been thinking in turns about Julia and about what Lucretia had said about Julia. She was ready for something real. He turned off his van and tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. Something real, something that took serious courage. Well dammit, so was he. This was just the first step. Time to go for it.

     He swung himself out of the van just as the rink’s back door opened. Julia exited, holding a tiny bouquet of wildflowers tied up in a shoelace; she caught his eye and smiled. Magnus felt weak. He picked up his pace--

     “Magnus! I’m glad I caught you.” Johann appeared between him and Julia.

     “Oh. Uh. Hey, man, what’s up?” Magnus glanced at Julia, who was now meandering over to him. So much for rushing in.

     “I wanted to talk to you about last night. You know, put everything on the table.”

     Magnus dragged his gaze back to Johann. “Whuh… what do you mean?”

     “I mean it was pretty obvious what you were thinking about when I talked to you.”

     Magnus was stunned into silence. He felt the blush creeping back up his neck. He shot a mortified glance at Julia, who was now within earshot and listening with amused interest.

     “Hey, it’s okay,” said Johann. “Music does funny things to us sometimes. I get that better than anyone.”

     Julia looked like she was suppressing a laugh. Magnus sputtered, “Listen, I--”

     “You don’t have to explain.” Johann patted him on the shoulder.

     Magnus exhaled. “That obvious, huh?”

     “Yeah, it’s cool. I just wanted to make it clear where I stood.”

     “Um. Okay.”

     “It’s not that I’m not flattered--”

     Julia’s hand flew to her mouth. Magnus’ jaw dropped.

     “--and actually, thinking about this helped me come to terms with some things.” Johann frowned at the ground. “A lot of things, actually.”

     Magnus attempted words. No words came. Julia’s face was turning red with quelled laughter.

     “I have to say I’m indebted to you for it,” said Johann. “Like I know myself a little better now. But I don’t think this--” Johann pointed to himself and then Magnus-- “could work out right now. My heart lies with someone else.” He sighed expansively and looked into the distance.

     Magnus managed an, “Oh.”

     Johann gave him a look of deep and totally unwarranted understanding. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sure you’ll find a good guy someday.” He patted Magnus on the shoulder.

     At this point Julia rescued him. “Hey, guys, what are we talking about?”

     “Julia! Hey.” Johann dug around in his pocket. “I wanted to give you your half of the gig money.”

     “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” said Julia. “It was a favor for my uncle. You played the whole time.”

     “Listen, I play jazz on the piano? That’s just background music.” He pulled a neatly folded stack of twenties out of his pocket and handed it to her. “And I know my voice is better suited to other genres. You made the act, Jules.”

     She took it. “Well, thanks, Johann.”

     “Thank you for my first real gig. I’ll see you later.” He looked Magnus in the eye and raised a fist in a sort of “be strong” gesture. Magnus just nodded, unsure what else to do.

     As Johann circled the building and left, Julia dissolved into a fit of snickers. Magnus sagged.

     “Should I tell him?” he said. “I feel like I’m lying!”

     “Don’t you dare,” she said. “You heard how much it means to him.”

     “I just don’t want him to think I was faking or something, now that you and I--”

     “He’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” Julia looked at the wad of cash in her hand. “Um. Do you want to get something to eat? I’ll treat.”

     He laughed. “Sure. Hey, what’s with the flowers?”

     “Angus gave them to me.” She offered them to him for a sniff.

     He sniffed. “Ah, man, I can’t compete with class like that.”

     “Well, they’re kind of for both of us. He said we’re some of his favorite people.”

     “Jeez,” chuckled Magnus. “I love that kid.”

     Julia gave him a look of such sweetness that Magnus’ heart sped up. He wondered what he’d done to deserve it. Right! This was a date. “Uh, hi, by the way.” He spread his arms for a hug.

     She put the flowers through the buckle of her skate bag and squeezed him. “Hi.”

     He sighed contentedly. God, it was like holding the sun.

     Her arms relaxed and he let her go. “So,” she said. “Chi-chi’s?”

     “Yeah.” He offered her a hand, which she took, her tiny soft hand in his. “How was practice?”

     “Tough one today. We’re playing Phandolin on Thursday and they totally trounced us last year.”

     They walked down the street together.

     “Okay, how did you get this scar?” Julia said, brushing her fingers over her own eyebrow.

     “Oh, that?” Magnus’ hand floated to the notch in his forehead. “That’s not even a good story. It was a bar fight.”

     “How is a bar fight not a good story?” asked Julia.

     “I don’t know, I was drunk. Some guy was trying to pick a fight, and I was feeling like fighting myself. I used to be a real punk-ass kid.” Magnus rubbed the back of his head. “I was just angry. I didn’t know he had a knife.”

     Julia winced. “Jeez. You could have been stabbed.”

     Magnus hesitated. “At that point I was kind of looking for trouble. My parents had just died.”

     “Oh.”

     Magnus took a rattling sip from the last of his soda. He seemed very far away. Julia put her hand on his. His look softened.

     “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said.

     “No, it’s okay. I just… still miss them.”

     “How did they die?” Julia said softly.

     “Drive-by.” He swallowed. “My old neighborhood… there was this guy. A gangster. He had the whole place under siege, basically. Needed a place to run drugs and we were lucky enough to be it. People got caught in the crossfire all the time.”

     “That’s awful.”

     “It’s better now, but yeah. It was awful.”

     Julia traced a knot in the table with the hand that wasn’t on Magnus’. “My mom died too. Car crash.”

     Magnus moved his hand so their fingers were interlaced, tracing the tendons of her hand with his fingers. “How old were you?”

     “Eight. My dad and I were with her in the car. We were thrown clear, but--” her voice broke. She turned her face away.

     Magnus brought his other hand to enclose hers. They sat in the silence for a while, each in their own thoughts. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Anyway. Just a bar fight?”

     “Yeah. Guy was tweaking. You’re right, though, I could have died, or at the very least lost an eye. It was sobering in more ways than one. The next day I joined the neighborhood watch.”

     Julia met his eyes again. “That sounds like the start of something.”

     “It was, yeah. We started youth programs and stuff. Trying to keep kids out of Kalen’s gang. And we’d keep an eye out in dangerous areas. Watching out for each other. It worked pretty well. ”

     “Sounds like real community.”

     “For sure.”

     Julia’s brow crinkled. “Then why did you leave?”

     “Ha. Well.” He let go of Julia’s hand. “I saw Kalen in an alley once when I was walking home from work. I decided to follow him. Turned out he was down there for an execution. I saw him shoot someone.”

     “God,” breathed Julia.

     Magnus shuddered. “It wasn’t great. But I called the cops, and they caught him with the gun. I got to testify, put him away forever.”

     “But that’s good,” said Julia.

     “Sure, until his cronies started hunting me down.” Magnus clenched his jaw. “They almost got me a couple of times. None of ‘em left without bleeding, but I was getting tired of watching my own back.”

     “The cops--” Julia began.

     “They couldn’t do anything, they said.” Magnus shrugged. “So I left.”

     Julia leaned back in her chair. “Damn, son. You’re a man on the run.”

     “Not really. I was more like low-level target practice, I think. So I told everyone I was moving to New Elfington, and then I came here instead.”

     Julia whistled. “Who knew I was dating the guy from Die Hard ?”

     Magnus laughed. “Nah, I’m nowhere near as cool as John McClane.”

     She frowned a little. “I thought it was Bruce Willis.”

     “Yeah, Bruce Willis plays John McClane.” He gave her a searching look. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never seen Die Hard ?”

     She shook her head, laughing. “Should I have?”

     “We need to rent it sometime. You’d love it.”

     “Oh would I?” she teased. Magnus laughed, and she smiled.

     They were both quiet for a minute. Magnus spoke first, quietly: “Did you say dating?”

     Julia’s smile dropped. “If that’s cool. Sorry, I kind of just assumed--”

     “No, that’s totally cool. That’s… you know, that’s what I want to do. Is date you.”

     A little flustered laughter escaped her mouth. “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I want to do too. With you.”

     They looked at each other at the same time, and then burst out laughing.

     “So,” said Julia, when they’d collected themselves. “ Die Hard . Not just your typical explosions-and-bad-dialogue action flick?”

     “Psh. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Magnus waved a hand. “Easily the best Candlenights movie there is.”

     “Oh no, hang on,” she said. “Candlenights movie? Is there a heartwarming message about the true meaning of Candlenights in it? Because otherwise it’s just a movie set at Candlenights, like the end of Jumanji .”

     “Of course there is,” scoffed Magnus. He paused. “Well, I mean, it depends.”

     “Depends on what?” she demanded, cackling.

     “I mean…”

     Chi Chi’s closed at ten. They were there up until the teenager behind the counter threatened to lock them in.

Chapter Text

     “Come on, Marnie. You have to give me something.” Kravitz said, pacing around Taako’s apartment with his cell phone pressed to his ear. “You and I both know these are powerful stories.”

     “They are. But you know the board. They’re skittish around these kinds of… things…”

     “What kinds of things?”

     “ You know .”

     “No, Marnie. I really don’t. So why don’t you save me and you a whole lot of time and just spit it out?”

     “Fine. They don’t like the… gay stuff.”

     Kravitz stopped in his tracks. “What?”

     “They were fine with the rest of your pitch, but they didn’t like the parts about the girls having girlfriends… and you know, you dating the one male subject.”

     “You must be joking.”

     “They said if you took that stuff out, then maybe they’d be interested in buying the story.”

     “That stuff is one of the major components of the whole piece! Taako’s story alone doesn’t make sense if it was just omitted!” Kravitz said, resuming pacing.

     At the mention of his name, Taako looked up from the dress he was sewing, pins in his mouth. He’d never seen Kravitz angry before; he was always so calm and collected. If he was honest, it was kind of hot. But he kept that observation to himself.

     “Hey, hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what they told me.”

     Kravitz pinched the bridge of his nose, and took several deep breaths.

     “If you want to leave that stuff in, maybe try a different magazine. Like Out. They might be interested.”

     “These stories are deserving of a national audience.”

     “Well, you’ll have to try someone else’s. Sorry, Kravitz.”

     And Marnie hung up. Kravitz pushed the antenna down and then threw the phone at the bed, making a deep dent in one of the throw pillows.

     “Hey, easy on the merchandise, broseph,” Taako said, looking over his shoulder. Kravitz looked back at Taako, and the storm passed when he let out a breath.

     “Sorry.” He clenched and unclenched his fist several times. Taako turned around in the chair.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, sliding pins into the cushion.

     “No.” Kravitz paced into one of the costume aisles, and then paced back out. “It’s just…” He clenched his fists again and paced into the aisle, and out again. “Why are people stupid?”

     “I take it they weren’t interested?”

     “No! It’s just, agh--” he rubbed his hands over his face. “I know this’ll be a good story. An important story! But all the magazines I’ve talked to have their heads stuck too far up their asses to even give it a chance!”

     He glowered and dropped down onto the couch. When he looked over at Taako, his hand was covering the bottom half of his face.

     “What?” Kravitz asked, grumpily.

     “Nothing, nothing, sorry,” Taako said, pulling his hand away and trying to maintain a calm expression.

     “No, what?”

     Taako smiled a little at him. “Just… you’re very cute when you’re angry.”

     “Hmph,” Kravitz retorted, crossing his arms and slumping further on the couch, a deep frown on his handsome face.

     The phone rang from deep inside the pillow pile, and Taako turned back around to his sewing machine. Kravitz grumbled but hauled himself off the couch to go answer it.

     “Kravitz speaking. ...Oh, hey, Bill. Thanks for getting back to me. Did you have a chance to look at the proofs I sent you?”

     Taako finished the seam and cut the trailing strings. He turned it inside right and held it up. The director at the theatre had been hinting she was going to do Oklahoma that fall, so he’d figured he better get a jump on all the prairie garb. It wasn’t his best work, but it would do for a chorus member.

     “Wait, wait. Say that again.” Kravitz said, standing stock still. Taako turned around to look at him. He looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. Taako stood and hung the dress up, keeping an eye on Kravitz, whose face continued to fall.

     “But there must be-- ...No… I understand.” he said, in a quiet and hollow voice. “Thanks for trying… yeah. Bye.” He hung up the phone, and numbly placed it back on the stand. He just stood and stared at the wall for a while.

     “Kravitz?” Taako asked gently.

     “I... just got fired...”

     “What?” Taako walked closer to him. Kravitz dropped down on the bed, and leaned his elbows on his knees, his hand covering his mouth. He stared at the ground in shock.

     “How can you be fired?” Taako asked. Kravitz blinked a few times and looked up at Taako like he was noticing him for the first time.

     “They… my biggest client has decided that my work does not ‘reflect the family values that they hold as an institution,’” he quoted bitterly. “And they don’t want to do business with me anymore.”

     “They can’t fire you for that… can they?”

     Kravitz looked back down at the floor and shrugged. “They can do whatever they want. I’m just a freelancer and there’s a million excuses for why they won’t use me anymore… even when we both know the real reason.”

     “I’m so sorry.”

     Kravitz shook his head slowly. “I just… I thought they knew.” He met Taako’s gaze; his eyes looked tired. “I thought they didn’t care.”

     Taako sat on the bed next to him and rested his head on his shoulder. Kravitz reached over and took Taako’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Neither of them said anything for a long while.

     “I should probably go,” Kravitz said finally, squeezing Taako’s hand before letting go. “I need to make some calls.”

     Taako stood up and followed him down the stairs to the door, helping him find his shoes amongst the throng. “Krav? Will you be okay? Like money-wise?”

     “That’s what I need to call about,” he said, slipping into the second shoe. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave Taako a distracted kiss and quickly jogged out the door. Taako watched him get into his car and pull away before he shut the door, a sinking feeling forming in his gut.

     “And so I check her air conditioning compressor, it’s working just fine. Fuses are just fine. Plenty of coolant. But there’s still not a puff of air coming out of the vents, and a slight clicking noise from under the dash.” Sloane said, before taking a sip of her drink.

     “So what was it?” Julia asked as she cleaned a glass. Across from her at the bar were Sloane and Taako, who was absent-mindedly stirring his piña colada. The rest of Refuge was pretty empty. “A mouse?”

     “Almost. The cabin air filter. It was so full of gunk that it had fallen out of its place and was stopping the fan. I’m telling you, there’s no way that it was changed in the entire 13 year lifetime of the car.”

     “Ew. Gross.” Julia said, setting down the glass.

     “Yeah, there was dirt and leaves and feathers. It was disgusting. Worst I’ve ever seen.”

     Julia thought for a moment. “...has mine ever been changed?”

     “Yeah, I got you a new one last time you came in for an oil change.”

     “Oh good,” Julia said. She looked over at Taako, who had been quiet the whole time, just staring at the top of the bar. She and Sloane shared a look. “Earth to Taako. Come in, Taako.”

     “Hm?” He looked up and between them.

     “Are you okay?” Sloane asked. “You’ve been kind of out of it the past couple days.”

     “More so than usual,” Julia added with a wry smile.

     “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine…” He looked down at his drink with a frown.

     “Oh yeah, you seem great,” Sloane said, finishing her drink. “Come on. Spill.”

     Taako looked between the two of them. “I’m fine, it’s just… Kravitz.”

     “You guys fighting?” Julia asked.

     “Hurley and I fight sometimes, it’s not a big deal as long as you make up.”

     “I wish we were fighting; I’d know what to do then.” Taako shook his head. “He… He’s been trying to find a magazine interested in publishing his story about us. But every single one he’s talked to has said no and, even worse, his biggest client ended their contract with him because of it.”

     “Whoa,” Sloane said.

     “They didn’t like the derby story that much?” Julia asked.

     “They didn’t like the gay people in the story that much,” Taako said, bitterly. “And they don’t like Kravitz now since he’s dating me.”

     “Taako, that sucks.”

     “And the worst part of all of this is Kravitz has fallen seemingly off the earth.”

     “What do you mean?” Sloane asked.

     “After he got the call that he’d been essentially fired, he said he had to go make some calls and that’d he’d see me the next day. But that was four days ago, and I haven’t seen him since.” Taako tapped his thumb against the tabletop. “I stopped by his place this morning, just to check on him, and he’d left a note that he had to go out of town for a couple days and I shouldn’t worry.”

     He looked back and forth between the two. But they didn’t seem to understand.

     “Don’t you guys see?” he said, his voice rising in pitch.

     “I mean, I don’t,” Julia said. Sloane shook her head as well.

     Taako sighed. “He’s going to dump me.”

     “Oh, now, hey.” Julia and Sloane started at the same time.

     “That’s ridiculous.”

     “You guys are great together.”

     Taako counted his reasons on his fingers. “He’s become emotionally distant. He just left a note, instead of telling me in person. And we have only been dating two months, and--and--and already I’ve cost him his job! Imagine what I could do with more time! I could, I don’t know, kill a beloved family member!”

     “Alright, hold on a second.” Julia grabbed Taako’s wrist. “Take a breath, you’re spiraling.”

     Taako took a quick breath.

     “Okay, so point of order, you did not cost him his life’s work. Him being gay is what cost him his life’s work, which, admittedly, is not great. But at least it’s not you,” Julia offered.

     “They would have never found out if he hadn’t started dating me,” Taako countered.

     “You don’t know that!”

     “But I do know that!”

     “Hey, hey! Shut up!” Sloane said, smacking the bar top and silencing Taako and Julia. “As the only person in this group who has had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a loaf of bread, maybe I should say something, hm?” She looked between the two of them. She put a hand on Taako’s shoulder. “Now. I know you’re feeling insecure about the relationship, but right now, you shouldn’t focus on that. If you’re feeling like this, imagine how Kravitz is feeling. He just lost his job. Even if there are no financial repercussions, that kind of change can rock a person at their core.”

     Taako blinked a few times and looked down. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

     “He needs you right now,” Sloane continued. “More than ever. You need to be there for him. This is part of being in a mature relationship. You put the other person first. And he’ll do the same for you when your time comes.”

     “You’re right,” Taako said, nodding slowly.

     “Course I am,” Sloane said, sitting back in her seat. “Seven years with Hurley is nothing to sneeze at.”

     Taako stood up quickly, pulling a couple dollars out of his pocket. “I have to go, guys.”

     It was still two more days till Taako spotted Kravitz’ car outside his apartment when he was driving back from work. Taako quickly slammed on the brakes and pulled into the Pegasus Fields parking lot. With Sloane’s words echoing in his mind, Taako knocked on the door.

     Maybe he should have gone home and changed first. At least he wasn’t in his uniform, but he was practically coated toe to tip in powdered sugar. There had been an incident . But when Kravitz opened the door, Taako was floored to realize that he was the better dressed of the two of them.

     “Oh, hey,” Kravitz said. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had several days’ worth of scruff on his face. His t-shirt was wrinkled and his socks didn’t even match. Taako had never seen Kravitz in a state even close to this before.

     Taako blinked a few times, before managing. “H-hey. ...I got your note.”

     He looked confused for a moment, then he remembered. “Oh right. Good. Here, come on in.”

     Even the apartment was different. Normally it was a beige box with a few pieces of landlord-supplied furniture, impeccably clean. But now there were bank statements and spreadsheets scattered over the kitchen table. Several groupings of moving boxes were in a couple corners, and some large wrapped pieces of art were leaning against the walls. Luggage and camera equipment were haphazardly strewn across the floor.

     “Here, let me--” Kravitz stepped around Taako and picked up a tripod and a sweatshirt, setting them on top of a box. He cleared some room on the couch so that at least one of them could sit down.

     Taako looked warily at Kravitz. “Are you okay?” he asked him bluntly.

     Kravitz looked around at the apartment and frowned. “This looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”

     “For a normal person, this would be pretty bad. For you, this,” he gestured to the mess, “is catastrophic.”

     “I’m sorry.” Kravitz said, rubbing the back of his neck, “This past week has been… not great.”

     “No.” Taako picked up a bounce board and set it against the wall so he could walk into the room more. “Don’t apologize. Just… let me help. Tell me what happened, where you’ve been… what you need.”

     Kravitz sat slowly down on the couch. “I hardly know where to begin.” He looked up at Taako for a moment, then dropped his head and sighed. “I have spent the entirety of my career developing contacts, fostering relationships, finding avenues to tell the stories that I found. Very nearly a decade of work… and it’s just gone.”

     “I thought it was just the one,” Taako said, picking up a stack of mail from the floor and setting it down on the kitchen table.

     “I think Bill told people… or everyone else just arrived at the same conclusion that he did. I’ve had four more magazines say that they don’t want to work with me anymore.”

     Taako attempted to organize the papers on the table, at least sort them into useable piles. He noticed that in addition to the bank statements and spreadsheets, there were several monthly itemized budgets written in Kravitz’s exacting handwriting.

     “I kept trying to find ways to make it work still,” Kravitz continued, resting his face against his hand. “But the phone just kept ringing. And eventually it became clear that it would not work at all.”

     Taako turned back to look at him. “So what did you do?”

     “Well, initially I left to go to Neverwinter and close out my apartment, ‘cause I certainly can’t afford that rent anymore. If things don’t change, I won’t even be able to afford this place soon.”

     Taako stepped over a moving box and picked a lens bag off of the floor, setting out of harm’s way.

     “And then while I was there, I ran into an old college friend who was going to Pretoria to cover the presidential changeover. She wanted to know if I knew anyone who could be a second shooter for her, and I… I had to take it. Two weeks ago, I would not have even looked twice at a job like that. But now--” he shook his head, boring a hole into the floor with his gaze. “It’s like the last decade of my career never even happened. I’m 31 years old, and I’m back at square one.” He covered his face with his hands.

     Taako let him be for a few minutes and continued to try and provide some order to the space. Move boxes out of walk ways, make sure expensive equipment wasn’t in danger of being stepped on. It certainly wasn’t up to Kravitz’ normal standards, but at least it was better than when he had arrived.

     “...I probably should have called you before I left the country,” Kravitz said after a while. “Shit.”

     “Hey,” Taako said, coming to stand in front of him. “Don’t even worry about that. The floor was dropping out from under you, you did what you had to. If anyone understands, I do.”

     He sighed and shook his head. “It’s like… I don’t even know who I am anymore. I mean, who am I if I’m not--” he glanced up at him. “Oh, Taako… why are you even with me?”

     Taako looked down at him for a moment. “Kravitz, I’ve dated… a lot of different guys. And not one of those relationships lasted very long. They all ended up being selfish, or immature, or, you know, just interested in a hook-up. And over the years, I came to the conclusion that that would be the best that I could do, the best that I could hope for. But then, out of the blue, you came along. And you’re handsome, and talented, and passionate, and charming, and kind, and we get along well, and you like my weird friends, and we both enjoy dim sum and farmer’s markets and Julia Stiles.”

     Taako approached Kravitz, tilting his chin up with one hand and running the other over his hair. His voice lowered to a whisper. “And I’ve told you things about my past that I’ve never told another living soul, and you still accepted me.” He paused and carefully regarded Kravitz’ face. “I’m with you because I have waited my whole life for someone like you, and I never thought that I would be so lucky as to meet anyone who could be half of what you are. You are so much more than what you do. And no matter what you end up doing next, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m with you, for you.”

     Kravitz stood and wrapped his arms around Taako, pulling him in for a surprisingly tender kiss. It was long and slow, enveloping. Kravitz rested his forehead against Taako’s, their eyes still closed. The only sound was their intermingling breaths.

     “Taako?”

     “Yes?”

     “...Thank you.” Taako opened his eyes to find Kravitz’ already open, and looking at him with such tenderness that it made Taako’s heart skip a beat. “With everything that’s going on… I’m just so grateful you’re with me.”

     A smile escaped Taako’s lips, and he had to look down to try and contain it.

     “Well, you’ll have to try a lot harder than this to get rid of me.”

     Kravitz chuckled quietly, a slight smile on his face. Then he grew solemn, and brushed the back of his fingers against Taako’s cheek. “I hope I never am.”

     “...I hope so too.”

Chapter Text

     Carey hopped up onto the counter and grabbed the peanut butter from the high shelf. “Why do you always put it all the way up here?”

     “It’s fun to watch you get it down,” said Killian, offering a hand. Carey took it and leapt back to the floor. Killian leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll get the jelly.”

     Carey pulled a knife out of the silverware drawer, twirled it once just because she could, and started spreading peanut butter on bread. “I wish we had something more substantial.”

     “What are you talking about? PB&J is a classic picnic food.”

     “So is fried chicken,” said Carey wistfully.

     “I get paid on Wednesday. We’ll go to KFC or something.” She put the jelly down on the counter and twisted off the lid for Carey.

     “I wish I still had my mom’s recipe. I could make some.”

     “Maybe there’s a good recipe in a book at the library.”

     “Not like my mom’s,” said Carey. She scraped off the peanut butter knife on the jar and dipped it into the jelly. “What else do we need?”

     “I’ve got some apples and carrots, and cookies. And thiiis.” When Carey looked over, Killian was waving a bottle of whiskey.

     Carey snorted. “What kind of picnic are you taking me to?”

     “A fun one.” Killian smiled and put the bottle into the canvas bag that was serving as their picnic basket. “It’s such a good idea.”

     “A little cheesy, maybe,” said Carey. “You said it was Avi’s idea?”

     “Yeah, he wants us to meet the girlfriend.”

     “Oh yes, the mysterious Tony.” Carey closed the sandwiches and wrapped them in Saran wrap. “I guess it’s cheaper than a night out at Refuge.”

     “And if we’re lucky we’ll get just as drunk.”

     Carey laughed and added the sandwiches to the bag. “In that case, let’s go.”

     Killian handed Carey her windbreaker. “Let’s.”

     Carey traded her for the bag and slid it on. As soon as she flexed her shoulders, it split up the back. Carey froze. “Shit.”

     Killian laughed. “You’re so buff you broke your jacket!”

     Carey pulled it off and looked at the ripped nylon with disgust. “This was my only jacket!”

     “I’ll keep you warm.” Killian wrapped her arms around Carey and lifted her around the middle. “Ready to go to a picnic?”

     “Put me down,” laughed Carey, squirming.

     “Must! Keep! Girlfriend! Warm!” Killian carried her out the door and closed it behind them.

     It was chilly for June, but not too humid or windy, just right for a picnic. The McElroy Memorial Park wasn’t much more than three blocks in the middle of a neighborhood, but it had a little playground and some nice shady trees. Avi was already there, laying out a blanket under a particularly lovely maple. A woman about their age leaned against the tree trunk, holding a proper picnic basket.

     Killian insisted on carrying Carey to the blanket, so they approached their friends the same way they left the apartment, with Carey dangling from Killian’s arms.

     “Hi Avi,” said Carey from her perch. Killian put her down carefully on the blanket.

     “Hey guys,” said Avi. “This is Antonia!”

     "Hi!” she said brightly. Antonia was petite and on the plump side, with tawny skin and a flat nose. She didn’t look at them, more past them.

     “The tall one is Killian and this is Carey,” said Avi. “They’re on the team.”

     “Avi!”

     Magnus and Julia appeared. It was Magnus who shouted. Avi introduced them as well while Carey and Killian settled into the blanket. Killian leaned back on the heels of her hands and Carey sat cross-legged beside her, one hand on her knee. “Pst. Look at Jules.”

     Killian looked. Julia was talking to Antonia, but she and Magnus were holding hands shyly. Killian giggled. “They’re so cute.”

     “Johann’s around here somewhere,” Avi was saying. “He’s walking his dog.”

     Magnus gasped hugely. “There’s a dog ??”

     Julia laughed and plopped down onto the blanket beside Carey. “How are you two?”

     “It’s so nice to have a Saturday off for once,” said Killian. “Both of us having Saturday off at the same time is damn near a miracle.”

     “I could’ve used the hours, though,” sighed Carey.

     “Your boss cut your hours again ?” said Julia.

     “Yep. I don’t know why he doesn’t just fire me,” Carey growled. “I mean, I’m glad I still have a job, but I’m sick of wondering if my paycheck will cover rent.”

     Killian ruffled her short hair.

     “You said you applied to some new places, right?” asked Julia.

     “Rejections. Across the board. No one wants to hire a thief.”

     “You’re not a thief anymore,” said Killian.

     “Tell that to my rap sheet,” said Carey. “I’m tired of talking about this. Let’s talk about something more important.”

     “All right, like what?” said Julia.

     “Something absolutely crucial.” Carey glanced at Magnus. “Julia, have you hit that yet?”

     Julia’s mouth dropped open. “God, Carey!”

     Killian threw back her head and laughed.

     “Seriously, though, how’s it going?” said Carey.

     Julia relaxed and lowered her voice. “Really well. Like… really well. He’s just… I’ve never been in a relationship with someone so easy to be around.”

     “That’s key, right there,” said Killian. “If you’ve got to work while you’re just hanging out, it’s not worth it.”

     “It’s certainly nice to date someone who doesn’t care if I can’t go out because I have homework,” said Julia. “That Finance class nearly killed me, I swear. I’m so glad the semester’s almost over. Oh, look, Lucretia!”

     Lucretia approached with Miyagi on a leash and a bag from McDonald’s under her arm. “Hey, everyone.”

     “Dog!” said Magnus, abandoning a conversation with Antonia and dropping immediately to his knees to scrub Miyagi behind the ears. “Hello, puppy! Who’s a good dog?”

     Miyagi, for his part, looked delighted by the attention and immediately started licking Magnus’ face.

     “I’m happy to see you too, Magnus,” said Lucretia, taking a seat beside Killian. “This is Antonia?”

     “Yeah, pleased to meet you,” said Antonia, again looking past them. “Sorry for the lack of eye contact. I’m pretty blind.”

     “Here, let’s sit down.” Avi offered a hand, which Antonia took, and led her over to join the circle. “I don’t want to brag or anything, but this is a great day for a picnic.”

     “Sure is,” said Killian. “So Antonia, what do you do?”

     “I do air traffic control, same as Avi,” she said. “Now let me see, Avi’s told me so much about all of you. Killian, you’re a personal trainer?”

     “That’s right,” said Killian.

      “And Carey works at a pawn shop,” she said.

     “Yeah,” said Carey, bristling a little. Easy, she thought, easy.

     “How did you two meet?” she asked.

     “Oh, man, that’s a great story,” said Julia.

     Killian laughed. “Oh god, how long ago was that now?

     Carey grinned. “Five years.”

     “Yeah, we had this promotion thing at the gym where I work, an hour of free training. Kind of get people hooked so they hire us on for longer. We don’t do that anymore, thanks to Carey.”

     Carey nudged her shoulder. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, babe.”

     “Right, so Carey comes in for that free hour of personal training.”

     “Really just trying to mooch off free stuff,” said Carey, shrugging. “I did not expect to meet the love of my life.”

     “We hit it off, though, big time,” Killian said. “Not that Carey needed any training, like she was already a spectacular athlete. But after that hour I was like, on my knees praying that she would sign up to be trained.”

     “I couldn’t afford that,” said Carey.

     “But you came back anyway, and I swear, you had a shawl and a beauty mark and a freaking French accent.”

     “No way,” said Antonia. Avi started laughing.

     “I mean I was going for more of a Belgian accent, but yeah,” said Carey. “I managed to convince the guy behind the desk that I was a different person.”

     “So you got another hour of free training?” said Antonia.

     “Damn right I did,” said Carey. “I was afraid I was being a creep, though, so I tried to stay disguised for Killian too.”

     “I saw right through it,” said Killian. “Your handstand technique is unmistakeable.”

     “So you got her number,” said Antonia.

     “No, I thought she was just trying to scam the system,” said Killian. “I just let her do it because I liked her. And then she came back again.”

     “Oh my god!” Antonia was delighted. “How many times?”

     Carey shrugged, laughing. “Like, seven or eight?”

     “The last time it was just your normal clothes and a fake mustache,” said Killian.

     Magnus looked up from rubbing Miyagi’s belly to say, “That’s the goddamned funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

     “They wouldn’t let her in, but I managed to run out after her and finally get her number,” said Killian.

     “We’ve been together ever since,” finished Carey, looking at her girlfriend fondly.

     Antonia laughed. “That is a great story.”

     “Hey guys,” said Johann’s voice from behind Carey. He joined the circle between Antonia and Magnus, trailing a scruffy black mutt on a leash.

     “TWO DOGS!” said Magnus. The black dog bounced over to Miyagi and the two investigated each other briefly.

     “Aw, c’mon, Void,” said Johann, trying unsuccessfully to pull her away.

     “Now that we’re all here, let’s eat,” said Avi, and everyone spent the next few minutes passing food and offering to share. Magnus and Julia put a bag of chips in the middle of the blanket, and Carey added their apples and carrot sticks. Antonia started pulling out enough tortillas and taco filling for everyone.

     “That smells amazing,” said Magnus, sneaking a bit of ham and cheese sandwich to each dog. He had Miyagi in his lap and Void stretched out by his leg.

     “You’re welcome to have one,” said Antonia, holding out a taco in his general direction.

     He took it and took a bite. “Mmmm, gracias. Eres un sol. ”

     Antonia frowned a little. “I don’t speak Spanish. I’m Filipino.”

     “Oh!” Magnus swallowed. “Sorry. Bad assumption.”

     “It’s okay, I actually get that a lot.”

     Carey chewed a PB&J thoughtfully. “My Spanish is pretty rusty. Did you call her a sun?”

     “Yeah, it means like…” Magnus waved a hand. “A dear, or a doll. Like saying you’re a peach.”

     Antonia smiled. “Well thank you.”

     “You know who’d like that?” said Julia. “Taako.”

     “He probably already knows it,” said Magnus. “It’s pretty common.”

     “He doesn’t speak Spanish either, Mags,” said Julia.

     Magnus paused mid-chew. “Really? He looks Latino. You call him Taco.”

     “Yeah, ‘cause it’s his name,” said Avi. “T-A-A-K-O. It’s Turkish or something.”

     “Huh,” said Magnus. “All this time I thought it was just a nickname.”

     “That’d be kind of a racist nickname,” said Carey. She considered. “Although if anyone could pull it off, it’d be Taako.”

     “What about you?” Magnus asked Carey.

     “I’m fourth generation, hombre ,” said Carey. “I picked up what I know from my grandparents. And most of it’s swearing.”

     Magnus finished off the taco and rubbed the two dogs’ heads. “I’m not used to being the only one who speaks Spanish.”

     Johann looked up. “ Hablo español. Conversacionalmente. ”

     Most of the circle exclaimed in surprise. Magnus threw out a hand. “Look at this gringo!”

     Carey laughed.

     After lunch and a few shared drinks in Dixie cups, Avi pulled a frisbee out of the picnic basket and most of the group spread out to play catch.

     Carey wasn’t in the mood, and Antonia couldn’t play anyway, so Carey sat with her. Lucretia stayed as well.

     “Sucks that you can’t play,” said Carey, watching Killian take a flying leap and catch a bad throw by Avi. What a babe.

     “It’s okay,” said Antonia. “I’m not really an athlete anyway, not like you all.”

     “Gosh, I hope you don’t have to be an athlete to play frisbee,” said Carey.

     “I used to have one with a beeper in it, so I could hear it,” said Antonia. “I broke it last summer. I should get another one.”

     “If you don’t mind me asking,” said Lucretia, “how does air traffic control work with being blind?”

     “I have a really big magnifying glass and a good memory,” said Antonia. “I’m not totally blind. Most blind people aren’t.”

     “I didn’t know that,” said Carey. “What can you see?”

     “Anything within about an inch of my face,” she replied, demonstrating with her hand. After that everything’s just unfocused and blobby.”

     “Sounds like my life,” said Carey, and Antonia laughed.

     They watched their friends play for a little bit in comfortable silence. After a while Magnus threw the frisbee to Void, who ran off with it. Johann and Magnus both ran after her; Magnus got to her first, and wrestled it out of her mouth. Void’s tail was wagging the whole time.

     “I wish I had a dog!” shouted Magnus gleefully.

     Johann said something inaudible. Magnus replied, “Dogs are the best people! I think dogs should vote!”

     Carey, Antonia, and Lucretia all laughed. Carey said, “I hope Julia’s a dog person.”

     “They do seem pretty crazy about each other,” said Lucretia.

     “You and Killian seem pretty crazy about each other too,” said Antonia.

     “Oh yeah,” said Carey. “We’d have gotten married years ago if we could.”

     “Maybe someday,” offered Antonia.

     “In this state?” said Lucretia. “Not likely.”

     Antonia looked uncomfortable. “You could move, I guess.”

     “Nah, this is home,” said Carey. And anyway, her criminal record would follow her. “We’re already about as married as we can be anyway.”

     Antonia chuckled. “I can’t believe she recognized you by your handstand technique.”

     “I’ve seen it,” said Lucretia. “It’s pretty distinctive.”

     “How so?”

     “Well, here.” Carey curled up into a ball, put her hands on the ground, and pushed herself up into the air, uncurling from the waist.

     Antonia squinted, and then her eyes widened. “Oh my god! I wish I could do that.”

     Carey grinned at Antonia’s upside down face and rebalanced herself onto one hand. She pretended to clean the nails of the other. “No big deal.”

     Antonia laughed. “Amazing. You know there’s this adult gymnastics class at the rec center. You should do it!”

     Carey lowered herself to her back and rolled up, facing away from Antonia. She knew of the class, and the registration fee was too expensive. “Not really my thing. I prefer roller derby.”

     “So sexy!” shouted Killian from the middle of the park. She’d been watching Carey. Carey blew her girlfriend a kiss.

     The frisbee players were recongregating around the blanket. Killian offered a hand to Carey and pulled her to her feet.

     “Join me for a little walk?” she asked.

     “Sure,” said Carey. They walked away as the rest of their friends spread out lounging on the blanket.

     “You seem kind of upset about something,” said Killian as they passed the little playground.

     “Do I? I don’t mean to be.”

     “I don’t think anyone else noticed,” said Killian. “You okay?”

     Carey was silent for a while. “I don’t know. It seems like everything today is trying to remind me how poor we are. The jacket. The fried chicken. Even the fact that we’re both off today.” Carey squeezed Killian’s hand. “I know it’s stupid and ungrateful, but I’m so sick of being poor.”

     “Mmm. It frustrates me too.” They reached the end of the park and turned back around. “But it won’t be like this forever.”

     Carey looked up at Killian’s face. “How do you know?”

     “Call it hope. But I’m sure things will change.”

     Carey leaned in, resting her head on Killian’s arm. “I’m glad you have hope. I’ll try to have hope too.”

     Killian stepped in front of her and caught her under the chin. “Good.”

     Care stood up on her tiptoes and kissed her, long and slow.

     “And in the meantime,” said Killian, when they broke apart, “the things that really matter are totally free.”

     “Things like what?” said Carey.

     Killian gestured at the sky. “This beautiful day. You and I getting to be together.” Killian turned and kept walking, back toward the blanket. “And our family.”

     “There you guys are!” said Avi, who was laying flat on his back and looking at them upside down. “We’re looking at clouds!”

     “I haven’t done this forever,” said Julia, who was snuggled up next to Magnus.

     “It all looks terrible to me,” said Antonia, who was greeted by a chorus of laughter.

     “Sounds like fun,” Carey said. Killian stretched out on the grass, and Carey laid down too, her head resting on her girlfriend’s stomach.

Chapter Text

      “Hey, babe, can you take a look at this?” Kravitz said, sitting cross-legged on the lime green couch in Taako’s apartment. He was frowning at the screen of his iBook.

      “Sure.” Taako scooched up to the end of the bed, and took the blue and white computer from him. He scrolled down on the webpage, glancing over the text. “I thought you said Magnus was still on the fence about the whole website thing.”

      “He was last time I talked to him, but I figured if I had something more concrete to show him, maybe I could convince him that this idea will work.”

      “That makes sense. He’s very much a work-with-his-hands-and-what-he-can-see kind of guy.” Taako shrugged. “These chair pictures are nice.”

      “Yeah, I figured it would make sense to put in pictures of his work.” Kravitz took the computer back. “I didn’t have anything he’d done though, just got some shots of a chair from my kitchen.”

      “I think he’ll like it.”

      A knock came from the front door down the stairs. “God, I hope so.” Kravitz stood to go answer it.

      “Magnus!” Kravitz smiled widely as he opened the door. Magnus looked visibly relieved.

      “Oh, good. I’m at the right place.” Magnus said.

      “Yes, the one with the yellow front door.”

      “Hail Magnus!” Taako’s voice floated down the stairs. “Are you hungry?”

      “Yeah, I could eat.”

      “Come on in,” Kravitz said, stepping aside.

      Magnus let out a low whistle when he stepped inside. “That’s a lot of shoes.” he said, taking off his work boots. Kravitz’ mouth twisted into a smile.

      “Oh, just wait.”

      Magnus stared open-mouthed at Taako’s costume collection, which was fine because it gave Kravitz a moment to set up at the kitchen table.

      “Alright, now as you can see--Magnus?” Kravitz asked, trying to get his attention back. He blinked and looked over.

      “Huh? Oh, yeah.” Magnus sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, and Kravitz scooted the computer over to him.

      “Now I know last time we talked you were a little unsure, so I went ahead and built a mock-up just so you have a clearer image of what I’m talking about. Feel free to read, click around. Let me know when you’re done.” Kravitz left Magnus with the computer, went to go tidy up magazines on Taako’s coffee table. Magnus dutifully examined every corner of the website, and Taako rummaged in cabinets.

      “How does cilantro-lime chicken thighs with black beans and rice sound?” he asked, reaching down to pull a large skillet from the back of a cabinet.

      Magnus looked briefly up from the computer. “That sounds fantastic,” he said, before returning to the website.

      Kravitz sat on the couch, his heels bouncing quickly, and he tried to look like he wasn’t observing Magnus’ every move, even though he was. Magnus sure was taking a long time. That was a good sign though. Or was it?

      Magnus looked over at Kravitz. “I’m done.”

      Kravitz popped up like he was spring-loaded. “Great!” He joined Magnus at the table, turning the computer so they could both see it. “So what did you think?”

      “Well--” Magnus started.

      “ Merde .” Taako said, looking at a cabinet. They turned to look at him. “I’m out of chicken broth. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his keys from the TV stand and a few loose dollars. “Try not to have too much fun without me.” He gave Kravitz a quick kiss on the cheek before jogging down the stairs, his flip-flops thwapping with every step, and out the front door.

      “So, thoughts?” Kravitz asked, folding his hands on the table.

      “...So is this a weblog?”

      “No, it’s a true website. Multiple pages, unique address. Completely customizable if there’s something you don’t like.”

      “Well, it looks great. I mean, if I saw this, I’d hire me.” Magnus smiled. “You made this IKEA chair look damn fantastic. Do you think you could do that with some of my pieces?”

      “Oh, definitely. Yours will look even better; they have actual craftsmanship.”

      Magnus nodded slowly, scrolling down the page again. “Do you really think this will work? I mean… it’s the information superhighway, how’s it going to help me?”

      “First, no one calls it that anymore. And second… honestly, I don’t know that this will work. But I’m dedicated to giving this site the best shot that I possibly can. Maybe nothing will come of it, or maybe it’ll take off and having a Burnside coffee table will be the new status symbol amongst upper-middle class white couples.” Magnus laughed. “There’s really no way to tell. It’s kind of crazy out there on the web right now. We’re all still figuring it out.”

      “Alright. I’m in.”

      “Really?” Kravitz’ face lit up.

      “Yeah.” Magnus shook his hand. “I just wish I could pay you for this. You’ve already put in a lot of work.”

      “This is as much an advertisement of my services as it is of yours. If I can prove this concept, I could take this to other businesses, larger businesses, and hopefully get back on my feet again.”

      Magnus looked over at Kravitz. “How’s that going by the way? Are you alright?”

      Kravitz sighed and closed the computer. “I’ve been able to get some jobs helping out on other friends’ shoots. Looking at going back to portraiture, and this web design work was Taako’s idea actually. Maybe if I just keep throwing enough spaghetti at this wall, something will stick.”

      “I take it the roller derby story is officially a no-go?”

      Kravitz frowned. “Yeah, probably so. I just don’t think anyone will want to publish it.”

      “Well, why don’t you?”

      Kravitz looked back at Magnus. “Why don’t I what?”

      “Publish it.” Magnus pointed to the computer. “Like on the internet.”

      Kravitz looked back at the computer, a thought slowly forming in his mind. “...I hadn’t thought about that before.”

      “It probably wouldn’t be like publishing it in a magazine, but, you know, at least the story would be out there.”

      “That’s… an excellent idea, Magnus.” Kravitz’ mind was slowly picking up speed as he chased down this thought. “I need someth-ah!” Kravitz stood and snatched a legal pad, immediately starting to write rapid notes on the page. Magnus watched him in curiosity for a few minutes till Taako returned from the store. He smiled bemusedly at the frantically writing Kravitz.

      “So what’d you tell him?” Taako asked, opening up the package of chicken.

      “I asked him about the derby story, and he said he’d probably not find someone to publish it. So I suggested he publish it himself on the inf-internet.”

      Taako looked impressed. “A pretty face, and brains. I see why Julia likes you.”

      Magnus laughed.

      Taako took in a sudden deep breath, and found himself awake. Unfortunate. He blinked a few times. The sheets next to him weren’t slept in, but the clock said 4:18. He didn’t remember Kravitz leaving. He leaned up and rubbed an eye.

      The apartment was completely dark, save for some lights from the street lamps through the windows, and Kravitz’ computer at the kitchen table. Oh there he was, fast asleep, his head on the keyboard. Taako smiled and got up, picking up a blanket and throw pillow from the couch.

      He draped the blanket over Kravitz’ shoulders, carefully tucking it so it wouldn’t fall down. Delicately, he lifted the computer up, and snuck the pillow in before letting his head rest back down. And he still slept on. Taako went to shut the computer, but he stopped to see what Kravitz had been working on.

      It was a website, if Taako was using that word correctly, titled, Everyone’s Story. Or maybe it was a weblog, he realized as he scrolled down the first page. There was a simple black background, with a wide white bar and some fill-in text. Some parts didn’t seem to be working properly yet, but it was an impressive start for just a couple hours. The one link on the page that did seem to be working was to an About the Author page. Taako checked to see if Kravitz was still sleeping before he read,

      I have failed as a documentary photographer. I defined my success by my ability to publish stories, to get them in front of national, international audiences. I defined my success by how many awards I had won, how many cover pages had my photos, how many people wanted to interview me. And now by all my own definitions and most everyone else’s, I have failed.

      Somewhere in the past decade of my career all these other things came to matter more than what should have always been first: the people telling their stories.

      That is why I’m starting this project, Everyone’s Story. Once a week, I’ll post a person’s story that they’ve shared with me here on this blog. I hope you enjoy hearing them as much as I have.

      Every person that I have ever met has a story. Big or small, wise moral or personal reflection, ongoing struggle or past triumph, everyone has a story to tell. And I’d love to share them with you. My name is Kravitz Sinclair, and this is my story.

Chapter Text

     Noelle looked away from the computer screen and scrunched her eyes shut. The stupid lunar bot was due tomorrow. It was so close to being perfect, and most of the project team had left for the night, but she just knew the prof would take five percent off if it kept pulling to the right, so she’d stayed to fix it. Unfortunately, so had Gerald.

     “Before you say anything, picture this with me,” he said in that squeaky voice of his. “On Friday, after finals are all finished, you and I, on a date.”

     “Friday I have--” Noelle began, but Gerald kept talking.

     “We could go to the park, grab something to eat. There’s that really good food truck there, they do those street tacos.”

     “They only serve--”

     “Then, we go for a walk in the park. Nothing high pressure. Nothing fancy. Just you and me, getting to know each other.”

     He wasn’t going to listen to her anyway. She turned back to the computer and kept checking the code.

     “Well? What do you say?”

     “Oh, you’re going to listen to me now?” mumbled Noelle.

     “What is that supposed to mean?” said Gerald.

     There was another typo. Amazing how many there were even in functioning code. By her fifth read-through she should have gotten them all. Still, that shouldn’t be causing these issues.

     “I mean, Gerald, if you had asked me a single question about who I am as a person, you would know exactly what I think about this date idea of yours.” She corrected the typo.

     “What are you talking about?” he scoffed.

     She reached the end of the code and entered the “save” command. “First of all, Friday I have a derby bout. We’ve been practicing a lot and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m really excited about it, actually.”

     “Then we could do this another day,” he said.

     “No, we can’t. That food truck? I know the one you’re talking about. Sure smells good, but they only serve pork. I can’t eat pork.”

     “Can’t? Oh, Noelle, you don’t need to worry about your figure.” He oozed condescension.

     Noelle gritted her teeth. “Okay, won’t, then. Because I’m Jewish, Gerald. It’s not kosher.”

     “We’ll have something else, then,” he said. “There’s a little cafe over there too. We’ll pick up something after our walk.”

     “Oh, yeah, that’s another thing.” She turned in her chair, so he could see her prosthetic leg under her knee. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but this thing is tough to haul around. I can do it, if I have to, and I don’t get tired easy, but a long walk would be really uncomfortable.”

     Gerald looked genuinely concerned. “I should have asked. I’m awfully sorry.”

     The annoyance bubbling in her gut settled a little. She sighed. “I accept your apology. Would you go up on the catwalk and see if she drives straight now?”

     “Yeah.” He hopped up the stairs. The engineering workshop was set up so that students could work on tall or awkwardly shaped projects from about any angle. The catwalks criss-crossed the ceiling. The bot itself was on a little track outlined in yellow tape. Noelle picked the controller up off the desk and carefully eased it into forward motion while Gerald watched. He shook his head.

     “No good,” he called. “Still pulling to the right.”

     “Ugh.” Noelle let the bot roll to a halt. Gerald hopped down the stairs and rolled it to the reset.

     “Maybe it’s a mechanical problem,” Noelle said, putting the controller back down on the desk and massaging her forehead.

     “Nah, I doubt it. Our mechanics are spot-on. Maybe check the code again?”

     Noelle felt her eye twitch. Of course it was possible she’d missed something. And it was possible that snow would fall on graduation day, too. She knew what this was really about. The team had barely let her touch the actual bot. You’re the best at coding , Merrick had said. Leave the mechanical stuff to us .

     “Maybe we both need a set of fresh eyes,” she said carefully. “Why don’t you check my code, and I’ll check your mechanics?”

     “Okay, but you’re not going to find anything,” said Gerald.

     She got up to let him sit down and strode over to the machine. “Neither are you,” she murmured, and laid down to look at the axles.

     “So not a walk, and not Friday, and somewhere kosher? We can do that,” said Gerald, his face lit by the glow of the monitor.

     “I think you’re maybe missing the point,” said Noelle, examining one of the crownwheel fixings. Was that what she thought it was?

     “Listen, you’re nervous. I understand. It’s hard to believe that you’re beautiful sometimes. Especially… you know. With the arm and the leg.”

     Noelle sat up. “ What ?”

     “But you are beautiful.” He wasn’t even looking at her, just scrolling through her code.

     “My arm and leg are none of your business,” she said.

     “Sorry to bring it up, it’s just--”

     “No. Stop. Just--stop.” She’d interrupt him now, see how he liked it.

     “Listen, I don’t get why--”

     “No! You listen!” She was shouting now, sitting on the floor shouting at someone who wouldn’t even look at her. “I was in a bad accident, okay? Really bad, but the alternative to that bad accident is me being dead.”

     He looked up now, struck silent for once , thank God .

     “I am…” she swallowed, suddenly nervous, but no, he had to hear this. “I am perfectly happy with who I am. I don’t care who thinks I’m beautiful, okay? I don’t care what you think about me. I don’t want to go on a date with you!”

     He frowned. “Jeez. Rude much?”

     “Rude?” she snapped. “You didn’t even ask me! You just told me! And furthermore--” she jabbed her hook at the axle. “This bevel pinion is stripped. How’d y’all miss that? Did you just assume it was my coding?”

     He rolled his eyes and got up to look. “It’s not stripped.”

     She stood up and let him lay down. He was quiet under the bot for a minute.

     “Well?” she said finally.

     “It’s not that bad,” he grumbled.

     “It’s enough to make it pull to the right,” she said, marching over to the toolbox. “Get a new one. We’ll replace it.”

     “We’ll have to take apart the whole rear axle setup!” he protested, pulling himself out from under the bot.

     “You want to lose that extra five percent or what?” She hauled the toolbox over. He huffed and headed for the scrap pile.

     Noelle put the jack under the bot and pumped the lever. Gerald joined her in a minute with a new bevel pinion. She handed him a wrench and they went to work.

     “So who is it, then?” said Gerald after a few minutes.

     “Who’s what?” asked Noelle.

     “What guy are you into if not me?”

     “No guy,” said Noelle. “It’s nothing special about you.”

     His eyes went wide. “You hang out with all those dy--”

     “Don’t you say it,” she said, pointing a wrench at him.

     He leaned away. “Lesbians. You’re into girls, then.”

     “No! I’m not into anyone!”

     “Hey, it’s no big deal,” he said. “It’s actually kind of sexy.”

     “Do you hear yourself talk sometimes?” she demanded. “I’m not a lesbian, and even if I was--”

     “Then what’s the answer?” he said. “Boys or girls? C’mon, Noelle.”

     She snatched the bevel pinion from his hand with her prosthesis. “I’m into science.”

     Noelle stood at the back of the group, trying to keep from falling asleep, while the others demonstrated the bot to Professor Hudson. It wasn’t pulling to the right anymore, and the code was perfect, and that was all that mattered.

     “You’ve made a lot of improvements,” Professor Hudson said, looking at her clipboard. “I see you finally found that mechanical issue.”

     “What mechanical issue?” said team leader Merrick.

     “The one that was screwing with the steering,” said Gerald.

     “Did you fix that last night?” Merrick asked.

     “Yeah, yeah,” said Gerald, who looked as though he’d been drinking coffee for days. Noelle blinked a few times. Something about this was important.

     “So you found the issue?” Professor Hudson asked Gerald.

     Pay attention, Noelle, pay attention.

     “Yeah, we uh--”

     “It was me!” she piped up.

     Professor Hudson looked at her for what may have been the first time that semester. “I’m sorry?”

     “I found the issue,” Noelle said. “It was a partially stripped bevel pinion on the back axle.”

     “Really?” She raised one eyebrow. “What took you so long to find it?”

     “I was focused on the coding, ma’am,” she said. God, she must be out of her mind, speaking up like that. It was probably the sleep deprivation.

     The professor turned her gaze on the team. “And the rest of you? Why was it only last night you discovered this?”

     “We thought it was a problem with the coding,” mumbled Merrick.

     “Why would you build a bot with a partially stripped bevel pinion in the first place?” asked Professor Hudson.

     None of the boys knew how to answer. Noelle didn’t either. She’d been asking herself the same thing when she occasionally drifted into lucidity. Professor Hudson glanced at her. Was it Noelle’s imagination, or had the professor just looked sympathetic?

     “Some of your design choices are a little impractical, and you’re just at the threshold of what I consider a reasonable weight to launch into space, but overall, well done.” She scribbled something down on her clipboard and passed out four pieces of paper. “Have a good summer.”

     “Eighty-seven? Hell yes.” Gerald high-fived Merrick.

     “God, I’m so glad that’s over,” sighed Merrick.

     Noelle looked at her paper. At the bottom of the sheet, on the “Final Grade” line, it said, 92%.

     She hugged the paper to herself and smiled.

Chapter Text

     Merle dropped his keys on the counter and flipped on the radio.

     “--and welcome one and all to the country music hour. I’m Hekuba Roughridge, and--”

     Merle switched it off again and went to the living room instead. His record player sat on a shelf. He put on Willie Nelson and went back to the kitchen.

     The little message recorder by the phone was blinking. He held out a hand to push the playback button, but hesitated and glared at the radio instead. “You can wait, you nag.”

     Instead he pulled out a frying pan, some butter, some eggs, and some spinach, and made himself a veggie omelet.

     “ I just never took the time ,” he hummed along with the record, whisking the eggs. “ You were always on my mind …”

     He poured out the eggs and watched it sizzle. It needed to sit a minute. Better bite the bullet. He reached over and pressed the playback.

     “ Beep . Merle? It’s Hekuba. Next weekend I’m going to a conference. You’ll have the kids an extra day. I swear to god, if I hear they got to swim lessons late again, there’ll be hell to pay.”

     “Mehh, hell to pay,” Merle mimicked. Mavis must have told her about last time. It seemed Mavis hadn’t told her why, though, or he’d be getting an entirely different lecture about fire safety. Merle wondered what she thought happened to Mookie’s eyebrows.

     “ Beep .”

     Oh, a second message today? Probably the United Way or something.

     “Hi, Mr. Highchurch? It’s Charlie Boyland.”

     Huh, that was weird. Merle flipped over his omelet and slid it onto a plate. Why would Boyland’s oldest be calling him?

     “I, uh. I’ve got some bad news. Dad’s in the hospital. It’s uhh. It’s not looking good. He’s been in and out of lucidity all day but he was just asking for you and I thought you might want to see him before… well he’s in room 205 at St. Jude’s. It’s about… 3:30 in the afternoon right now.”

     Charlie went on talking, but Merle had already put down his plate, switched off the stove, and picked up his keys again. The door slammed shut behind him.

     In a minute, the record quietly ran out.

     Merle knocked at the hospital room door. It was closed, and all the blinds were drawn. Charlie was the one who opened it. His eyes were red.

     “I’m sorry, Mr. Highchurch, you’re too late.”

     Merle didn’t recognize his own voice saying, “No, I can’t. I can’t be too late.”

     Charlie nodded sadly and opened the door.

     The room was full of Boyland’s family, which wasn’t difficult; the man had nineteen sons and two daughters. Despite this, the room was quiet. Six or seven of the boys were crying, being comforted by other boys. The two daughters, who were eight and eighteen, were holding hands silently on the floor by their mother. Barbara Boyland was the only person in an actual chair, cradling Boyland’s youngest, who was two years old and asleep.

     All this centered on an empty hospital bed. Merle tottered inside, hesitantly. He was an intrusion in this place, an unneeded old man in a room grieving another old man. It felt like stepping into church.

     “Hi, Merle,” said Barbara softly.

     Merle nodded a hello, unable to tear his eyes away from the bed. The sheets weren’t even stripped off yet. He’d been right here.

     “How did it happen so fast?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

     “A stroke,” said Charlie.

     “And how long--”

     “About an hour now,” said Barbara. “Not long after Charlie called you.”

     “If I’d gotten the message sooner--”

     “You wouldn’t have been able to talk to him,” said Charlie. “He was delirious for a pretty long time.”

     “Could’ve… seen him. At least.” Merle reached out to touch the sheets. His throat felt thick. “You bastard.”

     The funeral was three days later.

     It was really more of a memorial service. Boyland hadn’t seen the point in coffins and ceremony, but nevertheless the service went on for hours. Each one of his children spoke, oldest to youngest, starting with Charlie.

     “I wouldn’t be in medical school if it weren’t for dad,” said Charlie.

     “He came to almost all of my swim meets,” said Beebee, “even the ones where we had to get up at four in the morning to drive there.”

     “Dad showed me how to change a tire,” said Andrew. “I teach people all the time now.”

     “Daddy quizzed me all the time for mathletes,” said Tyler. “I’d never be state champion without him.”

     “He taught me how to make a paper plane,” said Henry, and then demonstrated.

     “Daddy always drew pictures for my stories,” said Rissa, showing off a handmade book. “He said they weren’t good, but I liked them.”

     “What do you love about Daddy?” Barbara asked little Patrick.

     “He makes sprinkle pancakes,” he said, with all the solemnity a two-year-old can muster.

     Merle thought he’d be bored, but he was struck by how much time Boyland must have spent with each kid. The man had never even hinted. Merle used to think Boyland was just a homebody. It turned out he was working hard on the nights he wouldn’t go for a drink with Merle.

     “Thank you for giving us all a chance to speak.” Barbara addressed the audience, which was considerable. “We only have one more person left, a man who knew my husband the longest.”

     Merle’s turn. He hadn’t wanted to speak, hadn’t known what to say, but Barbara was right. He’d known Boyland for years, and it seemed only fitting. He stood up and took the podium at the front of the church.

     “I’m Merle Highchurch,” he said. He cleared his throat. There were a lot of people in this room. Merle looked at the back wall, trying to ignore the weight of the listening silence. “Uh. Boyland hated this story. Truth be told I don’t like it either, but I think… I think it should be heard. The story starts by saying that Boyland’s the reason I lost my arm.

     “He and I were in ‘Nam together. Some of you might know, he was a sergeant, and a good soldier. I was a medic, and a pretty terrible soldier. I had tried to dodge the draft, unsuccessfully. Wasn’t even really good at that. But I’d had a year of nursing school, so they put me in charge of helping folks.

     “We weren’t in the thick of the fighting. We never got the worst of it, and we always had backup. It came as somewhat of a shock when the Kong attacked our camp one night. Set off a shrapnel bomb right near my medical station. I took a shard of metal to my arm.

     “We managed to beat them back, only had a few casualties, but there was no one to pull the shrapnel out of my arm, so I had to do it myself. Did a pretty rotten job of it. I missed some.

     “Over the next few weeks it got pretty badly infected. I was really sick, but trying to hide it because I just knew they’d chop off my arm, and I’d be another sad case of a war-ravaged veteran back home. It got worse and worse.”

     Merle cleared his throat again, remembering. He brought his attention back forward.

     “I made myself pretty damn unlikeable on principle. I was a big hippie then, or I thought I was, and I made a big deal of not wanting to be there. People avoided me, or if they noticed I was sick, they thought I was faking to go home. It was Boyland who ordered me to take off my jacket and shirt to see it, and it was Boyland who dragged me over to another medic’s tent. There was gangrene, and it stank to high heaven. Much longer and I would have died. Boyland’s the reason I lost my arm, but he’s also the reason I’m still here today.”

     Merle paused, lost in thought for a moment. He hadn’t planned this part, but he was going to say it anyway, he supposed.

     “If there’s one thing we can learn from Boyland, let it be to pay attention.”

     He stepped down. The preacher said, “Thank you, Mr. Highchurch. Please stand and join in singing the departed’s favorite hymn.”

     The organ struck up, and it was all fiddling with programs for a moment to see the words. Merle pulled his out and stared through it, mouthing along rather than singing.

Encourage my soul

And let us journey on

For the night is dark

And I am far from home

     “I never knew that about him,” whispered Barbara, leaning over to Merle. “Thank you.”

Thanks be to God

The morning light appears.

The storm is passing over…

     Merle felt himself choke up.

     “Next up, I’d like to play a song in honor of a friend of mine who passed away this week.”

     Mavis opened the back door and slid across the backseat. Mookie followed and slammed the door behind him. Merle checked the rearview mirror to see if they were putting on seatbelts.

     “Hi Dad,” said Mavis. “Is that Mom on the radio?”

     “Yep,” he said. Hekuba had approached him at the funeral, and they’d had their first civil conversation in about six years. She’d asked him what song Boyland would have liked her to play. He’d forgotten; Boyland was her friend too.

     “You don’t listen to Mom usually,” said Mavis, a little accusatorily.

     “Maybe you’re just not around when I do,” said Merle.

     “It’s ‘cause she’s gonna talk about Rissa’s dad,” said Mookie. “Rissa said so.”

     “--loved by his children, his wife, and his friends. He will be missed.” The song began to play as Merle pulled out of the rec center parking lot. Merle wasn’t sure Hekuba would actually play it--she’d made such a face when he suggested it, but there it was, Johnny Cash singing “These Hands.”

     “Rissa went to lessons?” said Mavis. “Henry and Tyler didn’t.”

     “Yeah, but she went to the locker room halfway through and didn’t come back.”

     “It’s so sad,” said Mavis.

     They were quiet for a little while, listening to the music play.

     “Don’t die, okay?” said Mookie, looking furiously at the back of Merle’s head.

     Merle felt something hard in his chest melt right away. “I’ll do my best.”

     Merle stared at the road, thinking about twenty-one kids with memories of their father, and one old man who should take his own advice. He hesitated, but not for long.

     “So. Mavis. How were lessons?” he asked haltingly.

     Mavis looked up at him, surprised. “Um. Good, I guess. I learned the breaststroke.”

     Merle nodded. “Good. Good. How… did it go?”

     Mavis squinted. “The way you kick is weird. I don’t like it as much as backstroke, but it was okay.”

     “Good. How about you, Fireball?”

     “Zack B. peed in the pool.” Mookie made an ugly face, and then relaxed it. “But I found a cockroach in the deep end.”

     Merle chuckled. “What did you do with it?”

     “I traded it for a Pokemon card. See?” Mookie pulled something yellow and blue out of his pocket.

     “Now what the heck’s Pokemon?”

     The song on the radio ended, and was followed by a commercial for a tire place, and the three of them went home.

Chapter Text

     “Practice is over, Angus,” Lucretia called over the half-wall around the flat rink.

     “Aw, beans,” said Angus, who was trying to skate backwards.

     “Hey,” she said with mock sternness. “Who taught you how to swear?”

     Angus giggled and skated to the wall.

     Lucretia smiled a little and turned to leave. Merle intercepted her. “Lucretia,” he said. “Question for you. Don’t suppose you’d give up coaching for a while to be a ref.”

     “What do you think?” she said.

     Merle sighed. “Didn’t think so. Damn, where am I going to find new refs?”

     Lucretia paused. She’d heard about Boyland. “Refs plural?”

     “Magnus just told me his next game will be his last,” Merle said. “Conflict of interest or whatever.”

     Lucretia raised her eyebrows. “Did he now? Well I’m not going to have any less of a conflict. You know I’ve played here for years.”

     “I know it,” grumbled Merle.

     “Can we borrow refs from other rinks?” she asked.

     “I’ve already called around. They’re all volunteer refs too, nobody’s willing to make the drive.”

     “Is the B.o.B going to have to forfeit?” asked Angus from the half-wall at the rink.

     Merle shrugged. “If it comes to that, maybe. And there goes my most popular attraction at this place. You don’t know anyone who could help?”

     Lucretia considered. “I’m meeting a friend on Thursday who might have something. I’ll let you know.”

     “I appreciate it.” Merle nodded and walked away.

     Lucretia thought about what Merle had said all week, which was only a distraction, and she didn’t need those. She’d been trying to buy flights for her boss, and today in particular the airline was being a pain.

     “You’re certain those flights are full up?” she asked the phone in her right hand, jotting down the times with her left. Brian was going to kick up a fuss about having a layover. “Even first class?” She sighed. “Yes, of course. All right, one seat on the four fifteen, then.” She set the phone in the crook of her neck, passed her pen to her right hand to keep writing, and reached for Brian’s flight info with her left. “Last name is Schwarze-Spinne. Yes, with a hyphen. S-C-H-W-A-R-Z-E. Spinne with two n’s and an e.”

     The little light on her phone that was the bane of her existence lit up. Brian wanted her attention, and immediately. She sighed and tried not to channel her vitriol into this conversation. “Yes, that information is correct. Thank you. Yes. Thanks.” She traded her pen back to her left hand, very carefully hung up and did not slam down the phone, and then she picked up a clipboard and opened the door to the boss’s office. “Yes Brian?”

     “Ah, Lucretia,” Brian said, steepling his thin fingers. “Yes, I need to look you in ze eyes and make sure that you’re going to get my lunch order right.”

     Lucretia held her pen at the ready. “Of course, Brian.”

     “Right, I vould like a sprout sandvich, yes? Bean sprouts, turkey, and zat good cranberry spread zey do. Please get it right zis time.”

     Lucretia tightened her jaw. “And if they don’t have the cranberry spread?”

     “I’m sure you’ll figure somesing out.” He waved a hand. “Zat’s all.”

     Lucretia didn’t budge. “Sir, have you given any more thought to the raise I asked you about?”

     Brian gave her a look of sad condescension. “Lucretia, you are doing adequate work at a job zat is really not very hard. Maybe if you show some more initiative I’ll consider, yes? But not at zis time.”

     “Yes, sir.” Lucretia took this as a dismissal and left the office. She made sure the door was closed behind her before she said, “Eurotrash.”

     “Pardon me?”

     Lucretia looked up. There was a man waiting at her desk, a fairly good-looking guy with a long but tasteful ponytail and some serious cheekbones. He looked maybe Native American. He was holding a clipboard too.

     “Hello,” she said, putting on her most professional voice and taking a seat at her desk. “Do you have an appointment?”

     “No, I’m actually here to see you,” he said. “You’re Lucretia Moreau?”

     “I am.” She frowned. “What’s this about?”

     “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong,” he said. “My name is Brad. I’m from H.R. I’m just here to ask you a few questions.”

     Lucretia checked her watch. She had lunch at 12:30, and if she wanted to get Brian his precious sandwich with time to have a full break, she should leave now. “I’ll answer questions, but do you mind if we walk and talk?”

     “Not at all,” said Brad.

     Lucretia grabbed the company credit card and left her blazer behind--it was too hot out to look professional in a deli--and walked through the office. Brad followed.

     “So Miss Moreau--”

     “Mrs.”

     “My apologies. Mrs. Moreau, you’ve been working here for three years now, is that correct?”

     “Yes, that’s right.” Stairs or elevator? Maybe elevator today, her knee had been acting up this morning. She strode over to the doors and hit the down button.

     “Based on our records, you were hired out of a fairly limited pool of applicants.”

     Lucretia wasn’t surprised by this. As far as she’d been able to tell when she applied, the position was cursed.

     “I’m going to be frank with you,” said Brad, looking under a paper on his clipboard. “Based on your resume, you were not expected to do well.”

     Ah, yes, her resume, which consisted of her high school diploma, a smattering of college classes, and a large chunk of time when she was unemployed, followed by a minimum wage job at a roller rink. Not exactly a business professional ideal. The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. Lucretia pushed the button for the ground floor.

     “Thing is, though, you are doing well. Extremely well.” Brad let the paper fall flat on his clipboard. “I don’t need to tell you that Brian is very difficult to work for.”

     “You’ve got that right,” Lucretia muttered. The elevator dinged and the door opened; Lucretia crossed the lobby of the office building and pushed her way through the revolving doors. The Clinton Building was the biggest buildings downtown, and the only one with more than three stories. Lucretia always thought it was pretty ugly, a dumb pseudo-skyscraper in what was otherwise a comfortable downtown area. It was, however, right next door to the deli.

     Brad followed her out the door, waiting to speak further until they were in line at the deli. “I’ll also tell you that you hold the record for the longest lasting P.A. since Brian began as regional director in ‘87. No one else has lasted longer than a year, especially right before you applied.”

     “Get to the point, Brad,” said Lucretia.

     “I suppose what we’re all wondering--that is, everyone over in H.R.--is how you do it. How do you put up with that guy?”

     Lucretia considered. “I’ve been here two years longer than anyone else?”

     “That’s right.”

     “Huh. Hold that thought.” She smiled at the deli worker. “Hi, I was wondering if you had that good cranberry spread today?”

     “Sure do,” said the gal behind the counter.

     “Great. Could I get eight ounces of that spread, and a turkey and sprout sandwich with it as well?”

     “You got it,” said the woman, and went to work. Lucretia allowed herself a sigh. No more fits over lack of cranberry spread, not if she had anything to say about it. How was that for initiative, Brian?

     Ha, that was the answer, then. “You know, Brad? I think I stay on out of spite.”

     Brad looked concerned. “Spite?”

     “Yeah. That, and I probably need the job more than most. Oh, thank you.” She accepted the small plastic container and the sandwich from the woman and handed over the company card. “I mean, let’s be honest. You’ve seen my resume. What else am I going to do?”

     “You might be surprised,” he said. “Time as Brian’s P.A. carries a lot of weight.”

     “Really? It’s not like I could get a good reference from him.”

     The woman handed back the credit card and a receipt. “Thank you, have a nice day!”

     “You too,” said Lucretia. She and Brad exited the deli.

     “You know,” Brad said. “If you couldn’t get one from him, you could get one from me. It’s truly astounding. You’re a little bit famous.”

     Lucretia straightened a little. She liked the sound of that. “I just channel all the rage into roller derby.”

     “What’s roller derby?” asked Brad, as they entered the revolving doors.

     Lucretia looked to him, and smiled wickedly.

     “I can’t believe you told H.R. that you stay at your job out of spite,” cackled Maureen.

     “It’s true, though!” said Lucretia.

     “I wouldn’t have believed this from anyone but you,” she said.

     They were sitting at Pour Joe’s, sharing a pot of tea over their sack lunches. They tried to do this once a month, although it was tough with Maureen’s teaching schedule and Brian breathing down Lucretia’s neck.

     “What else, then?” asked Maureen. “How’s your knee?”

     “Holding me back, as usual, but no worse than normal,” said Lucretia. “How’s your son?”

     Maureen scoffed. “I swear, you let a kid move out and suddenly he’s convinced he’s the adult in this relationship. Yesterday he tried to lecture me about how a serious scientist shouldn’t have her derby team picture in her office.”

     “Did you tell him that a serious scientist doesn’t blow up undergrads?” said Lucretia.

     “Something to that effect. He’s learning, though. The part-time job is good for him. He’ll be a more humble scientist when his suspension is over.”

     “Where did he get this ghost-hunting idea from anyway?”

     “Who knows? That damn fool sci-fi show he watches, maybe. With Moldy and the scullery maid.”

     Lucretia thought about this. “Are you talking about X-Files ?”

     “I thought that was a comic.”

     “No, that’s X-Men.”

     Maureen shrugged and poured herself more tea. “Who can keep track? Not me.”

     “I actually wanted to ask you about derby. We lost two of our refs this month.”

     Maureen grimaced. “I was at Boyland’s service. What a shame.”

     “And the other one started dating one of my players, so he quit.”

     Maureen took a long drink of her tea, eyes narrowed. “I don’t like that at all. We had a name for boys who helped with roller derby just to get in the girls’ pants. Do you remember what it was?”

     “Dicks?” said Lucretia, chuckling. “Yeah, but this one’s okay. I’m more concerned that we’ll have to start forfeiting.”

     “So what do you want me to do?” asked Maureen. “Be a ref?”

     “If you’re up for it.”

     “And why wouldn’t I be up for it?” she said haughtily. “You think just because I’m getting on in years that I can’t still outskate any of you whippersnappers?”

     “I don’t know,” wheedled Lucretia. “It’s been a long time since you were coach. Even longer since you were a player.”

     “Do yourself a favor and don’t write checks your body can’t cash, gimpy,” said Maureen. Lucretia laughed, and Maureen smiled. “Anyone still on the team that I know?”

     “Beauty and the Beast and Jule Be Sorry are still there. Everyone else is new.”

     “I can’t wait to call them on every single penalty,” said Maureen. “I’m in.”

     “Great! I’ll tell Merle.” One down, thought Lucretia…

Chapter Text

     Angus thought hard about what Merle had said, about needing new refs. It was a puzzle, for sure. Who was enough of a fan of roller derby to come to every bout? No one, except him maybe, and he still couldn’t skate well enough to do a good job. Also he was eleven. He wasn’t sure that was allowed.

     He thought about it when he walked to the elementary school, where there was a Summer Program for Children Twelve And Under. He thought about it during Free Play on the playground. He thought about it during Indoor Quiet Play inside, when most of the kids were playing board games or reading. He did not think about it, however, when it was time for Team Play. He thought about how much he really hated Team Play.

     Lately they’d been playing basketball, and it was mandatory. The component parts of basketball were easy enough. Angus could shoot at a hoop and make it most of the time, provided he was standing still. Basketball rarely included standing still, though. When they actually played, Angus was usually picked last for teams and only actually had to get on the court when Coach Roswell made them play the bench.

     Unfortunately, today Coach Roswell made them play the bench.

     “Come on, Angus,” shouted the coach. “Get hustling!”

     Angus picked up his pace a little. Now that he was skating all the time it was easier to keep up with the action, but that didn’t guarantee anyone passing him the ball. He was supposedly playing point guard, but it was hard to do much guarding when everyone was faster and taller than him.

     The other team’s offense got the ball, so back Angus ran to guard his basket. If he was lucky, the ball would stay on the opposite side of the court and--

     Oh god, oh god, it was coming right for him, oh god, he caught it, oh god--

     “What do I do!” he wailed.

     “Pass it!” said a voice, and he did, blindly, a solid chest pass toward the voice--

     Pwunk . The ball hit someone’s face.

     Coach Roswell blew their whistle. “Time-out! Hang on!” They jogged to the middle of court. Angus didn’t dare look.

     “Ow,” someone said. Well that didn’t sound so bad. Angus snuck a peek.

     “Oh god!” he said, because he’d hit June, and now her nose was gushing blood.

     “I’m all right,” June insisted.

     “That’s enough for today, everyone,” said the coach. “It’s the end of the day anyway. June, let’s get you to the nurse.”

     The volunteer who escorted them from place to place had them line up and led them back to a classroom. Angus felt terrible.

     “Good job, foster kid,” said someone behind him, and someone else snickered. Angus wondered if it was possible to burst into flames from humiliation.

     The end of Team Play was the end of the day, but the thought of walking past all those kids waiting for their parents was nearly unbearable, so Angus stuffed his things in his backpack and escaped to the school library, which was mercifully open all summer.

     Just walking inside calmed him. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of books.

     Caleb Cleveland, kid cop, would never have hit someone in the face with a basketball. He might have been hit in the face with a basketball if it was a clue, but he was much too clever to panic in the midst of a basketball game.

     “Psst.”

     Angus opened his eyes. It was the librarian. She looked left and right theatrically, and then revealed from under her desk a copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban .

     Angus’ face lit up. “You got it?”

     “Been saving it for you all week,” she said, and handed it over. “Go ahead and put your name in there.”

     Angus dug a pencil out of his pocket and put his name down on the card inside the book, along with the date. He accepted the book reverently. “Thank you!”

     She winked. “It’s a good one. You can’t tell me how it ends, though, I haven’t finished it yet.”

     Angus ran his hand along the spine. Ron might hit someone in the face with a basketball. He’d be sorry about it, though. Harry might, if he was being especially introspective at the time. Even Hermione might, although she’d probably do it on purpose.

     “Thank you,” he said again. “I think I need to go.”

     “Enjoy that book,” said the librarian, waving as he left.

     By the time Angus got outside, most everyone had left, which suited him. He opened the school doors to find June, holding a wad of paper towels to her nose. He hesitated.

     “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

     “I know,” said June. “It’s okay.”

     “Does it hurt?”

     June shrugged. “The nurse said my nose wasn’t broken. I just need to wait for it to stop bleeding.”

     Angus grimaced. “Did you miss your ride because of me?”

     Again, she shrugged. “I hate that bus anyway.” June was a foster kid too, and all the foster kids went to the Summer Program.

     Angus had another question, but he paused. They’d been in the same group home, before… well before things got better for Angus. June had had to stay. There were times when they’d banded together back then, for survival, but they weren’t ever really friends. June was tougher than he was.

     Aw, heck it. “Do you want to walk home together?”

     “You don’t live there anymore,” she said.

     “I don’t live far away.”

     “It’ll take a long time to walk there.”

     “Only about thirty-five minutes.”

     June made a face. “We’d have to walk through the gross part of town.”

     On this matter, she was right, but Angus shrugged. “I walk through there almost every day. What are you going to do otherwise?”

     “Wait two hours for them to pick up the kids from soccer practice.” She grimaced. “Okay, let’s go.”

     They set off down the street, not saying anything for a bit. After a few minutes, Angus asked, “Do you still read Caleb Cleveland?”

     She smiled a little. “Yeah. Did you read the one with the murder on the train?”

     “And the lockbox with the handprint scanner! That was a good one.”

     “How quick did you guess the bad guy this time?”

     Angus smiled. “Page 34. A new record.”

     “Wow. I didn’t get it until the thing with the hands.”

     Angus made a face. “Gross. Have you read Harry Potter?”

     “The first one. I can’t find the second one anywhere.”

     “That’s ‘cause the new one just came out and everyone’s trying to catch up. The librarian has a special copy. She let me borrow it. I’m sure she’d let you too, if you asked.”

     “Thanks, Angus.” June smiled, wad of paper towels still stuffed up against her nose.

     They were quiet for a while longer.

     “Do you like living with your grandpa?” she asked.

     Angus nodded. “It’s not like we used to talk about. You know. With parents. But it’s better.”

     “Good.”

     They walked a little farther.

     “What about the home?”

     June had a determined look on her face. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

     “Well good.”

     “Hey! Hey, you kids!”

     They both turned to look across the street. Coach Roswell was coming towards them on a pair of skates. Coach Roswell was tall and quite fat, but Angus had never seen them out of breath in all the years they’d been his P.E. teacher and Team Play coach. Seeing them on skates was like seeing a living balloon.

     “Hi, Coach,” said June.

     “What are you up to?” they asked.

     “Walking home,” said Angus.

     “Do you live around here?” Coach seemed alarmed. They were well into the gross part of town by now, although Magnus lived nearby, Angus was pretty sure.

     “No, we’ve got a little ways to go,” said Angus. “It’s okay, though.”

     Coach capitulated for a moment or two. “It’s not really safe for you two to be walking alone through here. Do you mind if I…god, I don’t know. Make sure you make it to the other side of Elm Street at least?”

     Angus looked to June. She gave a curt nod. “Okay,” Angus said.

     They carried on, Coach gliding along in the gutter beside them. “I didn’t know you skated, Coach,” said Angus.

     “It’s a hobby,” they replied.

     “I’m learning how to skate too,” said Angus. “If I get good enough I could be a ref for roller derby.”

     “Where have you seen roller derby?” asked Coach. “TV? Do they put that on TV now?”

     “No, Coach, I watch my friends play about every week. At the Adventure Zone.”

     “At that crappy--” Coach checked themself. “They have a league?”

     “Yeah, a small one,” said Angus. A thought occurred, a very good thought. “They need a referee. Really bad. Someone to keep the players safe.”

     “Do they.” Coach rolled along. “You know, Angus, you could play roller derby yourself.”

     “I don’t think I’m tough enough,” said Angus. “And anyway, we don’t have a boy’s league.”

     “They’ve got one in Neverwinter,” said Coach. “I’ve played both leagues."

     “I just think it’s more fun to watch,” said Angus.

     “Are the refs volunteer? Do you know?” asked the coach.

     “Yes,” said Angus, “except for the head ref, I think, but the head ref just quit.”

     “Huh.”

     They were quiet for a little longer. June pulled the paper towels away from her nose, dabbed a couple times, and then crumpled up the towels in her fist. “So I found an old book you’d like. Encyclopedia Brown .”

     “Is it a detective story?” asked Angus.

     “It’s short stories, and they’re all really good. You have to solve the mysteries yourself.”

     They continued on, Coach Roswell listening silently beside them.

     Merle shuffled the papers in front of him and stared at the calculator. Nope. No way this place was staying open without derby, and no more derby without at least one more ref. He’d even tried calling the league in Neverwinter, but they had exclusivity rules about unofficial leagues. They’d offered to call some people for him, but they didn’t sound optimistic.

     He put down his calculator and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. No more. He had to clean the hot dog machine and clear out free skate.

     He stumbled out of the tiny office. Maybe it was for the best. It wasn’t as though he’d asked for this. The flower shop was what he really loved, what made money, what relaxed him. This place had been foisted on him against his will. It was just a…

     Sloane and her little girlfriend, Hurley, entered through the back door. They waved when they saw him and headed to the locker room. Angus was skating along the wall of the rink and gave him a, “Hello, sir!” as he passed. Lucretia was putting on her skates in the center of the derby track. She nodded when he caught her eye.

     This was a community, that’s what it was. Ah, hell, he couldn’t give up just yet.

     Merle went to the gate in the derby track and let himself in. “Lucretia, you talk to your friend?”

     “I did,” said Lucretia. “You remember Maureen Miller?”

     Merle raised his eyebrows. “She founded the league, ‘course I remember her.”

     “She said she’d like to be a ref. Here, ask me after practice, I’ll give you her number.”

     “Thanks,” said Merle, surprising himself with how much he meant it. He felt considerably lighter as he strolled over to the DJ booth and announced that free skate would be over in ten minutes.

     As all the skaters but Angus left the rink, Merle headed over to concessions. Robbie was packing up.

     “I’ll close today,” said Merle. “I’ve got to stick around for derby practice anyhow.”

     “Oh, jeez, thanks,” said Robbie, poorly concealing a boat of nachos behind his back.

     “Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Merle took the last two hot dogs out of the machine with the tongs and pulled out the good scouring brush. Robbie not-so-subtly took them, laid them on top of his nachos, and pulled down the grate in the window of the concessions stand.

     There was something sort of zen about scrubbing down the hot dog machine. Merle had been at it a few minutes when he heard someone say, “I don’t get why you’re mad at me.”

     It sounded like Magnus’ voice, floating through the grate. Merle shouldn’t eavesdrop.

     He tried to scrub a little more quietly.

     “I’m not mad at you.” That was the team captain, Julia. Oh boy, was she lying. Merle had heard that tone before.

     “Are you sure? Because that’s what it feels like.”

     “All right, I’m a little mad. I wish you would have told me!”

     “What would that accomplish? I’d still have to quit.”

     “That’s not the point.”

     “I mean, I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

     “I know. As usual.” She sounded a little resentful.

     Merle could practically hear Magnus gritting his teeth.

     “You want to actually talk to me?” he said, and his tone wasn’t combative so much as pleading. “Please? I’m trying to understand.”

     “I don’t know! I don’t know.” She huffed. “I know you can’t really ref anymore. That’s fair. You’re right. But this is how we met! I don’t want to lose this. You know?”

     “Yeah. Okay, that makes sense.”

     “Does it?” This wasn’t combative either, she was genuinely asking.

     “Yeah, yeah. In that case I am sorry. I didn’t know it meant this much to you.”

     “I guess I didn’t either.” She didn’t sound upset anymore.

     Merle stopped scrubbing. Had he ever had a conversation like that with Hekuba? One that ended in understanding?

     “I’ll still come to every bout. I wouldn’t miss seeing you play.”

     “It’s not the same.”

     “I know.”

     “Julia, you’re late.” This was Lucretia’s voice.

     “I know, I’m sorry.”

     “Go gear up. Magnus, I’m glad I caught you. I need to take on an assistant coach. Are you interested?”

     There was a moment of silence. “W--yeah, I mean, yes. Absolutely.”

     “You mean it?” said Julia’s voice.

     “I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while, as it happens,” said Lucretia. “The girls and Taako all like you. It just works out.”

     “Okay, sure! When do I start?”

     “Right now, if you’ve got skates.”

     “Yeah, I’ll go grab them.”

     Merle smiled to himself and kept scrubbing. He wasn’t the only one who was suddenly having a good day, it seemed.

     He was about halfway done, hearing the rattle of skates on the track and the background noise of practice when he heard someone say, “Hey, Angus?”

     “Oh, hi, Coach!”

     “Hi. Who’s in charge of this place?”

     “Mr. Highchurch is! I think he’s in the concessions stand. Are you here to ask about being a ref?”

     “We’ll see. Thanks, Angus.”

     The day just kept getting better and better. Merle tried to brush the black burnt flakes off his shirt and turned around. “Hi there, what can I--” He paused.

     The person on the other side of the grate was the roundest person he had ever seen. They filled the window. “Good evening. I was told you might have a volunteer position open for refereeing roller derby?”

     “I certainly do, sir.” The person frowned, and Merle panicked. “Uh--ma’am--”

     “Coach will do. Or Roswell.”

     “Right. Coach. Let me join you out there.” Merle hung up his scouring brush. Unconventional, that was the word he was thinking. Just like everything else in this league. How fitting.

Chapter Text

     Kravitz typed in the numbers in his calculator and he frowned at the result. He pulled off the long strip of paper from the top of it, and double-checked his inputs. He had been accurate, and that was the problem.

     He scratched at the top of his head and took a deep breath. It’s fine. Just think about it logically, he reminded himself. What could be cut? He already didn’t have cable, but he needed to keep the phone and dial-up for his job, or rather his attempt at one. He frowned some more and then scratched off the ‘Eating Out’ line of his budget. Maybe if he went to that discount grocery store instead, he could cut another $50 out of his grocery budget. Thank goodness he’d paid his car off last year, or that would have been a major headache. But gas prices were ever rising. Faerun was relatively small, he could walk. He looked over his shoulder at a bag of lenses still on the moving box from where Taako had placed them. Or maybe he could sell some equipment and get a bike. But what if he needed the gear in the future? Okay, we’ll come back to transportation .

     Maybe if he signed a year-long lease he could get a reduction on his rent. Month-to-month was always more expensive. Or maybe he should move. Rent in Neverwinter would be more expensive, but there might be more job opportunities there. But Taako was here, as was Lucretia and the rest of the team. Oh, he was getting bogged down in possibilities again. He set the pen down and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was getting more and more difficult to make budget cuts logically when reality kept being tied to emotions.

     He glanced at the clock. If he left now, he could make it over to Sazed’s before they closed. He wanted to see Taako; just the sight of him always lifted Kravitz’s mood. Hacking the budget could wait.

     The heat fell like a heavy wet blanket on him as soon as he opened the door. Sweat immediately started gathering on the backs of his knees. Even still, he took off walking. It was only half a mile away.

     Three blocks later, he very much regretted his decision. The downtown sidewalks were deserted, everyone rightfully inside to avoid the oppressive mugginess. He passed by The Pothead and the former King Crab Jewelers, now long since closed and boarded up like a lot of the stores in the downtown area. A sign in the window of 27 Springs across the street caught his eye. Help Wanted. He stopped and looked at it for a minute, before crossing the street and going inside.

     Kravitz pushed open the door to Sazed’s Bakery and an electronic chime sounded. Three people turned to look at him with absolute delight on their wrinkled faces.

     “Taako, your boyfriend is here,” the one with the bejeweled cat eye glasses called.

     “Yes, Joan. I can see him too.” Taako stood up from behind the baked goods display. He waved at him with a smile. Oh, these were the ladies from the pottery shop.

     “How are you today, Kravitz?” asked the one that Kravitz was pretty sure was Tracy. Her nails were a bright red, and this time her sweater read ‘Yes, I do have a retirement plan. I plan on knitting.’

     “I’m well, Tracy,” he replied with a smile. She tittered to Grace on her left.

     “Are you here to see Taako?” Grace asked. She was obviously the youngest of the three, her face round and eager. “You two are such good good boys together.”

     “Well, I'm happy you think so,” Kravitz replied, chuckling a little.

     “Our Taako is quite taken with you,” Joan teased in a sing-songy voice.

     “Alright, you three.” Taako quickly taped a baked goods box shut and pushed it across the counter. “Here’s your order. Now scoot, don’t make me call your children.”

     They chorused good-byes, and each gave Kravitz a solid once over before they left with their box in tow. Taako laughed and leaned on the counter.

     “Just as I remembered them,” Kravitz commented, coming up to stand in front of Taako.

     “Yeah, they’re a hoot.” Taako looked up at Kravitz and smiled. “Hi.”

     “Hi. ...is it okay if I kiss you?”

     Taako looked over his shoulder, and turned back. “I think Sazed’s in the back, so yeah.” Kravitz leaned down and gave him a kiss, his fingers gently brushing his cheek. Taako smiled when Kravitz pulled away, his eyes still closed. “Mmm. Well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine Wednesday afternoon?”

     Kravitz shrugged. “No reason. I just wanted to see you.”

     “What’s that?” Taako nodded to the folded piece of paper in Kravitz’s hand.

     “What? Oh. Job application.”

     “To where?” Taako asked, deftly snagging the paper from Kravitz before he could protest. “27 Springs? Seriously?”

     “Yeah, they had a help wanted sign in the window.”

     “No, I meant, are you seriously thinking about doing this? What about the websites?”

     Kravitz heaved a sigh and looked away. “The websites are a sort of long term solution, that may or may not even solve anything. But ...I’m starting to have some immediate cash flow issues.”

     Taako frowned. “I didn’t know it was so bad.”

     “It’s not yet, honestly,” Kravitz assured him, putting his hand over Taako’s. “I still have some savings left, but if something doesn’t change in the next month… it’ll get there.”

     “Krav, if you need money, I can help. I have some savings.”

     “No. That’s for your--” he stopped, checked around for Sazed and then mouthed ‘bakery.’ “I couldn’t take that from you.”

     “It’d just be to tide you over. It’s not a big deal.”

     “No, I won’t.”

     “Kravitz.”

     “Taako, I swear to God, if I see your money anywhere near my bank account, I’m marching it back over to yours and depositing an extra $100.”

     “You don’t have an extra $100.”

     “Exactly.”

     They kept up a fierce staring contest for a minute, till Sazed came in from the back.

     “This is a place of business, not a social club,” he grumped, sliding a tray of croissants into the display.

     Taako blew out a quick breath, and smiled sympathetically at Kravitz. “Is there something you wanted to buy?”

     Kravitz frowned and looked at the display. “What do you have that’s cheapest?” he asked in a low voice. Taako picked up a sugar cookie and put it in a bag. When he rang Kravitz up, he quickly added his employee discount and thankfully Kravitz didn’t seem to notice.

     “I get off in a little bit. I’ll give you a ride to my place.” Taako said quickly. Kravitz nodded and left the bakery.

     Taako stirred the onions around in the sizzling pan, and huffed a breath. Kravitz was filling out the application at the coffee table. Neither of them had really said anything since they met back up, and drove to Taako’s apartment. The quiet was almost palpable.

     Taako didn’t know how bad of financial straits Kravitz was in. But if he was willing to entertain becoming a waiter, it definitely wasn’t good. And he wasn’t helping anything by stubbornly refusing help.

     “Can I put you down as a personal reference?” Kravitz asked, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

     Taako quickly chopped a celery stalk, his knife slapping back down on the board.

     “Taako?”

     “If you must,” he answered tersely, swiping the celery into the pan and giving it a stir.

     Kravitz set down his pen with a sigh and walked over to stand across the kitchen table from Taako.

     “Do you want to tell me what the problem is?” he asked, gently.

     “ I don’t have a problem.”

     “Fine. Will you tell me what my problem is that is making you act this way?”

     Taako turned around to look at Kravitz. “You won’t let me lend you money.”

     “Taako,” Kravitz began, rolling his eyes a little.

     “Nope, I’m not done yet.”

     Kravitz set his mouth and looked at him.

     “And you won’t tell me why,” Taako finished.

     “I already said why. Because you have been saving that money to open your own bakery. It’s your hard-earned savings. I’m not going to take that from you.”

     “Stop being noble.” Taako shook his head. “You’re to the point where you’re applying for minimum wage jobs, but you won’t let me lend you money. You--you built an entire website for Magnus, but you won’t let him pay you. Kravitz, why won’t you accept our help?”

     “Because I don’t need help,” Kravitz insisted. “I can do this on my own!”

     “But you don’t have to!”

     “But I need to!”

     “Why?”

     Kravitz struggled for a minute, then shut his eyes and admitted, “Because I already feel like a failure. I don’t want to be a charity case too.”

     “Well, tough. Because you already are one,” Taako replied, unsympathetically. Kravitz’ head snapped back up and he blinked at him a few times. He sputtered a few responses. Taako turned the fire off under his pan and turned back around to look at Kravitz, who still seemed to be spinning his wheels emotionally speaking. “Look, Krav. I know that this is a difficult time for you, but you are making it so much harder for yourself.”

     Kravitz didn’t reply, just sat down into one of the chairs. A hand covered the bottom half of his face and he stared at the table top.

     “Every single one of us has been a charity case at one point or another in our lives.” Taako continued. “You know that your not being one till now doesn’t make you better than us.” He reached out and tilted Kravitz’ chin up so he had to meet Taako’s gaze. “But being one now doesn’t make you any less either. You know that right?”

     Kravitz looked down and slowly nodded.