New York and Boston.

Yeah, I don't know why I'm not home either.

Ask the Devil.

Alpha wars.

Cole is smiling darkly at me, his black wings bent close against his back, threaded together tightly, overlapping almost completely. They look warm. I want to touch him but I know how very bad of an idea that would be.

I wonder if Caleb will see him when he comes out. By default the 370Z lives in the garage because otherwise the garage is empty save for PJ's jeep and that's a waste because it can hold four vehicles.

I remain standing just in front of the open garage door because I was instructed to stay put. Caleb had to make a quick phone call before we leave. I watch Cole quietly, my mouth twisted closed, my eyes narrowed to see if he comes closer or stays far into the shadows. I'm not afraid of him (much) anymore but I'm curious to know if anyone else gets these moments too.

Probably not, for I am insane, I've been told. I bite my lip outwardly. I'm not sure if I believe that. I think I just need to sleep a lot more than I do.

Caleb comes out and stops in front of me. What? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Nothing, I tell him, I'm just still not feeling well. I'll probably curl up with my book by the fire later today. I'm riding out this illness impatiently, like a cagey junkie waiting for a bad trip to end.

Cole smiles broadly for he always loved fucking with my mind. I stick my tongue out at him and Caleb catches me. He looks in Cole's direction, sees nothing and then looks at me with huge disappointment. Cole laughs out loud. I frown at both. The Brothers Grimm. They are standing within fifteen feet of one another. The last time this happened I was torn to shreds, fought over like a prize. Craved like a bad drug, their fucking little junkie girl.

Then we'll make our morning short. He opens the door for me and I get in quickly. Enough crazy, I have to play Sugarbaby today, for we are going downtown to look at a watch, since my Breitling stopped again and Caleb thinks that's bullshit.

He doesn't listen when I remind him about the three laptops, four car keyfobs, one flatscreen television and most recently the iphone and vacuum cleaner in the same day.

I do this, I tell him. I break things. 

How convenient, Princess. I fix things. 

Finally beginning to feel less...pneumatic. Pneumonatic. Pneumachosic? Spumoni.

He's got the whiskey out, a magnifier for his tiny truths that turn into giant epic confessionals once you can see through the bottle, thereabouts a third of the way gone now.

Lochlan's nothing if not predictable and I brace myself for the inevitable revelation.

I only have one thing I have to admit to you right this minute, Peanut. I told you I would never gamble with you but times change and I had no choice. I knew damn well you would latch on to the first guy who seemed worthy after Jake and I swore up and down I wouldn't be Rebound Guy. I couldn't risk it. Statistically those never work, right? So just look at this way, you got that whole stage out of the way already. Now we're home free.

What if it had worked out? What if it still does?

Well, firstly, it's over. And secondly, I can wait. That's what I do, Bridge. I wait for you. I'm a pro now. Expert. Grand master. 

You should probably  put that bottle down before you make this any worse with your words, Locket.

Yes, I should.

***

Caleb steps out from the path on the wrong side of the patio from where he is supposed to be. I am drinking hot chocolate that Duncan made for me and reading Christmas catalogs by the light of the moon. One of the upsides to being housebound and down is that I have my Christmas shopping half finished already! Yeah. please envy me already.

What are you doing? Were you at the house? 

I have spent the better part of two hours lying on Daniel's bed listening to Elton John and talking about sex clubs in Prague. 

That's what he does when he's stressed out. 

He goes to Prague? I had no idea. 

No, he lies on the bed and listens to Elton. He's too scared to go to a sex club. 

I don't blame him. I am too. I like Elton though. Very relaxing. 

Why is he stressed? Because of Ben?

Yes and I wanted to explain to him my reasoning and future plans to bring Ben home where he belongs when he is ready and not prone to taking out his frustrations on you.

Did he buy it?

No more than you did, I'm sorry to say but he did agree Ben can't lash out at you like that. You're both going to have to get used to the fact that sometimes people need a good swift kick to pull themselves together. 

Should I brace myself?

Speaking of which, why are you alone?

Loch just went in. I was about to follow. 

How is he?

Drunk and truthful. But do you care?

Of course I care. Someone important to you is important to me by default. 

Caleb?

Yes?

Whatever you do in life, please remember I'm not twelve years old anymore and I don't believe things just because you tell me them. 

That's a crying shame, Bridget. 

I know. It would make things so much easier. 

What could I tell you that you wish to believe?

That everything turns out okay in the end. That sex clubs in Prague are a myth. 

Want that figurative swift kick now or shall I wait? 
 

Thanatology and the art of spinning in circles without getting dizzy.

Can you save my bastard soul?
Will you wait for me?

I am reassured, told to pull myself together, reminded that Ben is also concerned with my wellbeing, that he and Caleb simply had a Discussion Between Men in which Caleb suggested Ben stay elsewhere while he gets stronger, that his judgement is not one hundred percent and frankly, that's not acceptable here, with children present. With Bridget present.

I am reminded this is not how Loch would have handled it. Loch wanted to handle it. They had to sit on him. Then they had to catch him and sit on him again. I remind Caleb that there's no need for refinement here. We are savages, plain and simple.

(PJ also said he was getting too old and too fat to run after Pyro, because Pyro can run like the fucking wind. We're smaller, that's all. Small people are quick.)

I am forewarned that should I escalate this, Caleb will too. That I need to work on recuperating and Ben needs to work on recovery and eventually we will all be one big happy family again.

I am told to stop being feral, and difficult and immature. I tell him I hate his evil fucking guts and Caleb grins and says he also would prefer if I stop lying, that it's unbecoming and crass.

I tell him I am too sick to fight, that I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this but I don't know how else to live it anymore and he says, I know, Baby. I know.

Kryptonite. (A follow-up because your emails, JESUS).

It's true. There's something about me that draws them in and then kills them. There's only one thing I know of that does that and I swear to God I was born on this planet, in a sleepy little town by the Atlantic. I swear I didn't know.

I say all this to Sam and he doesn't laugh or even act surprised. He's angry at me and angry at Caleb and concerned about Ben, who was unceremoniously asked to leave yesterday.

Because Caleb wasn't about to let him slide, even though I can be a provocative little fuck when I want to be, apparently I was not at the time and Ben just got scared and put his ego there in place of his heart, acting stupid.

I have been campaigning for his return ever since and wound up compelled to spend last evening with the devil, lest Ben's return take that much longer.

Of course it's coercion. And yes, I did whatever it takes. Ben will understand. He'd encourage it so he could watch. He'd film it in his brain and then plead innocence instead of debauchery, the way we all do. It's how Things Are Done.

I wish my kryptonite affected Caleb. He said it does, that his patience has already worn thin and his heart is malfunctioning. All that does is make me cling harder. Sam just rolls his eyes as I relate all of this to him and asks me to consider the thought that they are all projecting blame onto me because it's easier to pour it over me and watch me drown in their failed dreams than stand idly by as they admit they are sometimes less than human, that they fail.

It's easy blaming the one person who can't defend herself.

It's easy pointing fingers.

But I'm not doing that. They are men. Human men. Mostly good humans, even Ben. Caleb figured that instead of aligning with my loyalties he would simply cut out the middle man with the first excuse he could grasp, a brass ring of opportunity at a midway horror show.

The exciting part here is that I would think nothing of packing up every single person here, Henry included and bailing on him. If Caleb balks I can just throw 1983 in his face and watch as it crushes him to a fine dust underneath it's weight. Watch him burn the way we've been doing for the better part of our lives.

Watch me bring it all home.

I gave him twenty-four hours to fix this shit and also apologize to me and to Loch for the lovely threats that saw me donning sugarbaby gear when I should have been putting on pajamas because I'm so sick I should never have had my feet on the floor this week at all.  So shame on fucking EVERYONE.

Brimstone.

This is why you can't choose Lochlan, is it? Because he'll self-destruct or die. That's how it works, isn't it, Bridget? You fall in love with them and they fall apart the moment things are good, or at least almost okay. You need to keep him safe. If you focus all of your energies on him he won't make it.

His lips trace skin just under my nose, as his hands slide around my waist, pulling me in. I don't fight him, never do at first. Not until later when I've had enough and he is just beginning. He thinks we're equal and it makes me laugh. Or rather, it makes me cry.

He is pleased. I wore a dress, stockings, heels and a bright red slip for that extra special touch of defiance. I pinned my hair up. I wore seven thousand metric tons of mascara for him to smear and lipstick that he can drag across my cheek or scrub off his skin later but it won't stain his heavenly monogrammed sheets.

It did anyway.

I wasn't scared though, I'm too sick but I played my role. Indifferent, cold at first, then fearful, obedient. On my knees, mascara running followed by worshipped, washed and wanted. Ruined? One hundred percent all the way. But I still put my arms around his neck and asked for more, harder, longer, meaner, everything he's got.

No one bothers to admonish me anymore because they know. Lochlan knows but he shouts anyways and paces and shakes in fear and anger. Ben knows in his quiet, resigned voice over the phone because he fucked up so big time we don't see the way home anymore. Caleb has the map for my soul and directs my movements through this emotional landscape, packed with mines to step on, making sure I don't blow myself to pieces in order to destroy me slowly instead.

I keep hoping I will change, that my luck will shift, that I will age and find grace and be smarter and feel better and then I remember this way everything is easier because everyone is equal and no one will be singled out for oblivion except for me.

I can't save myself anymore but maybe I can save you.

Eyes like a car crash
I know I shouldn't look but I can't turn away.
Body like a whiplash,
Salt my wounds but I can't heal the way
I feel about you.

I watch you like a hawk
I watch you like I'm gonna tear you limb from limb
Will the hunger ever stop?
Can we simply starve this sin?

That little kiss you stole
It held my heart and soul
And like a deer in the headlights I meet my fate

Near death (which isn't a bad thing if you are me).

Coffee with Ben this morning, old familiar patterns in new unfamiliar feelings as we sit at another tiny unbalanced table in a noisy, busy shop full of people talking superficially about crap like clothing and top forty music and fitness while we slice into deep, cutting subjects like death and whatever the hell it is that we're doing to each other here because we haven't talked at all.

I sip my coffee and launch into the third coughing fit of the moment.

You're not fit to be out. 

I shake my head. Nope. I'm not, and he will be lucky if I don't put my head down on this table and slide right off my chair at some point.

Jesus, I thought Caleb had all the answers with his Russians looking after you. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

What are you doing?

Calling him. Just a minute, bee. 

Ben. Stop. 

Wait. He holds up a finger. What the fuck. I stand up and reach across the table and take his phone right out of his hand. We're having coffee. You don't talk on the fucking phone. You don't bring up the devil. You SPEND TIME WITH ME, DAMMIT. 

The conversations concerning yoga and Billboard comes to a screeching halt all around me. He stands up and begins to gather up our breakfast to take to the car. I follow. Neither one of us want to wind up being recorded, or even noticed for that matter.

He opens my door, puts our coffees in the console and then holds out a hand for me to help me up into the truck. I watch him trace the ground with his eyes all the way around the front of the truck and then he gets in. He looks at me.

I think I made a mistake.

Just one?

He laughs. Oh Jesus. Bridget, You're going to make this tough, aren't you? You know something? I'm sick too and I don't need this shit.

I open my door again and climb out. I think I'd rather talk to my Ben and not the one who's posturing if it's all the same to you. I slam the door, curse being uncoordinated enough to even consider bringing my coffee with me and head back into the coffee shop. Because, you know, I left my purse in the truck too. He roars out of the parking lot far too fast and doesn't look back.

I ask to borrow a phone and call Mike to come and get me because if I talk to anyone familiar I'll lose it. He says for me to hold tight for fifteen minutes and so I go back outside to wait. I cross the street and sit in the bus stop. I don't feel well enough to stand. I lean my head against the glass and close my eyes. A bus comes and stops for me, holding the doors open before I shake my head and it roars away from the curb. Someone drives by and yells something at me but I can't hear it. Then I hear a familiar purr and open my eyes again.

Caleb. He leaves the car in the middle of the lane with hazards on and comes around to the bus shelter, taking my hand. He leads me to the car and shuts the door once I'm in and then goes around and gets in his side. Traffic is lining up behind his car but he flashes that million dollar smile and calls out Sorry! Sorry! before pulling away.

I just need to know who stranded you here in this condition. You don't have to say anything else because if it's one of Pyro's stupid stunts then he's done. Just done, Bridget-

I stranded myself. And Lochlan is at work. You should know. You're working him into the ground now so he can't be home ever. 

You didn't get here by yourself. 

No, I came with Ben and-

Don't say anymore. He fishes out his phone and asks Siri to call Ben. She dials and it goes straight to Ben's voicemail.

Caleb's message is short and sweet. When you get this, come and see me.

He disconnects the call and all I can think of is great, everyone has an ego today.

How are you feeling? 

Really really bad. I burst into tears, which makes it even harder to breathe, and he drives faster still. Be home in a minute, Baby Doll. He squeezes my hand for reassurance but it only makes me cry harder. I try and wrench my hand back but he won't let go. Finally he pulls off the highway into a neighborhood I don't recognize and invokes Siri again.

Siri, call the Pyromaniac. 

Okay, calling the Pyromaniac, she tells him obediently.

What is it? Lochlan answers on the first ring. That surprises me.

Can you postpone the remainder of your day and meet me at the house, please? Bridget had a rough morning with the Beast and would like to see you. 

Be right there. Loch hangs up and Caleb looks at me. I told you I do what's best for you. Even when it isn't what's best for me. He pulls a u-turn and heads back toward the highway.

When we get home the gate is barely closed when it begins to slide open again and Lochlan's truck speeds into view. He blocks everyone in when he parks it right in the middle of the driveway. He pulls me out of the car, into his arms and rocks me, looking over my head. I hear him say Thank you to Caleb, or maybe he says Fuck you. I can't tell.

An actual elephant in the room.

This is my movie screen. It's ten feet across (more like fifteen, PJ corrects me) and I would hug it if only I could reach. I'm watching The Fall again and waiting to feel better after a few scary episodes in which simply breathing became some sort of Herculean task and I have more drugs now because I'm a lot sicker than I thought I might be, and really bad at things like Resting and Taking Care. It's hard, okay? I like to feel useful. I like to be needed.

Bridget's pillow fort/Perfectly.

When all was said and done we reverted back to the past. Time teaches us so much and it also teaches us what is temporary and what is forever. We can make infinite mistakes and stretch the bonds until they threaten to snap painfully back, but it won't change fate. Fate is decided before you are even born and eventually it becomes your job to stop fighting it and embrace the path chosen for you by your very own soul and the one connected to it.

***

I lingered in dreams after I was no longer welcome. Floating in the warm darkness, unable to properly focus, content in the failure of anxiety and fear to chase me into the deepest recesses of my mind. A hand slid underneath my shoulder blades and I was lifted gently out of my sleepy fog into the morning. Lips slid across my own. I put my arms up around his neck and he exhaled and kissed my clavicle before pushing me back down into the mountain of pillows, a luxury we never take for granted, having shared a single thin battered one for whole entire seasons without complaint.

Lochlan smiles against my face, pushing his cheek against mine with his widening grin. He tucks his fingers into the band of my pajama pants and pulls them off. He pushes up the hem of my t-shirt until it is twisted around my ribcage and he grabs my ankle and pulls it up as he pins me down with his weight. I have to fight to breathe until he lets go just a little bit and then I am lifted right up again, pressed against his jaw, rubbed ragged over light stubble and rough hands, before he finds our rhythm and puts me down again. He groans, kissing my eyelashes, pulling me tightly against him. My breathing is laboured, harsh little bleats of want for him, louder when it hurts and he brings one hand up to cover my mouth. Shhhhhh. His eyes dilate so huge in the dark they turn black and he stares at me as if he is waiting for me to confirm answers to questions we don't ask anymore.

Then he is gone again and I cry out. It's cold. It's dark. Where did you-

Oh. Lips first. Trailing up my stomach to my ribs. Thumbs against my hips, fingers wrapped around the bones. I slide my hands into his curls and he exhales his hot breath in a rush all over me.

Loch. 

It's a plea. Don't make me wait. Oh God I can't not have you right this second please. Don't stop right in the middle like this, not for anything-

Cold again as he take both of my arms and pins them high above my head. I arch my back against him and he pauses for a moment, a look of sheer joy on his face before he buries his head into the pillows, hard against mine and drives until we're both gasping from effort. He wraps his hand around my throat, clutching his fingers lightly. I hold my breath and tip over the edge, falling up as he slows to a crawl to let me ride the clouds to the outer atmosphere. He leans back away from me, crouching on his knees, lifting up my hips, slamming into me over and over until I begin to beg him to finish.

Complete the night.

Connect the stars.

Make me yours again and take everything else away. As we fall back down out of the sky together he kisses me, eyes open, souls tethered in a bond made of  feathers and iron. He says he loves me in the middle of a kiss. I never hear it, I feel it and it's one of the most amazing things in my heart, in my life.

His hands are shaking as he reaches up to smooth my hair out of my eyes. He pulls my face up to his for another kiss and then wraps his arms around my back, pulling me in tightly until my head covers his heart. I fall asleep on a steadily slowing beat, back into those recesses where he found me, taking him with me to show him the world where I never ever worry about anything and where he doesn't have to either, not anymore.

He says it out loud for good measure just as I walk off the edge of consciousness.

I love you. I love you Bridget and I don't know a goddamn thing in this world for certain but I know that.

And then I get that extra little thrill in feeling every molecule of this man lighten all at once, putting out the fire, just for a little while.