i’m in the business of mystery

let’s take it from the top

[smallstabs]

[will-bailey]

@smallstabs Downtown Eureka

For having grown up in Eureka, the town's ability to band together for the same event, year after year, with no signs of fatigue, had always impressed Will. He liked his neighbors well enough, of course—what few he had—and he understood, even before assuming the position of sheriff, that there was a sense of camaraderie among Eureka residents. They generally looked out for one another, and they actively enjoyed one another's company. He'd always found it curious...but charming.

This sort of merriment and sense of community seemed to increase tenfold around the winter holidays. There was always something to do, and thus, something Will was somewhat expected to attend. Some of it he enjoyed, most of it he didn't care one way or the other about. The annual Christmas tree lighting in the town square was generally not something his presence was required or even requested at, but still, he had not missed a Christmas tree lighting in some years.

Eureka's mild temperatures didn't call for more than a light jacket, the pockets of which held Will's hands so he wasn't forced to figure something else to do with them. He ambled casually down the street, admiring the large tree primed for its big night, an onslaught of sounds and sights and smells hitting his senses. The crowds were beginning to pick up, many people clasping mulled wines or warm ciders or hot chocolates, and he looked around with newly piqued interest at where to obtain one of his own.

Spotting an all-too-familiar head of flaxen curls pinned atop a small frame, his breath hitched. He was almost surprised at how easy it was to recognize her, even in the throngs of people. He tried to casually scan the area surrounding her, looking for any sign of companionship—he had no intention of interrupting her. But she appeared to be alone, waiting for something from the food trucks absentmindedly, and he felt emboldened—as he often did with her.

He let his foot fall from the curb, glancing both ways quickly before letting himself jog slowly over toward her.

"Wake up feeling festive today, did we?" He chimed playfully, a soft, wry smirk playing on his lips.

[smallstabs]

The Christmas tree lighting that Eureka put on every year was a comforting tradition that Tabitha had come to depend on and love. Her parents and brother lived too far out from Eureka to take part, and their own community didn't have anything similar, so Tabitha had taken part as an individual in a large crowd. Almost a part of something, but not quite. She'd met up with Annie and Benji this year, with Charlie and Connor along with them, and while of course Annie would never turn Tabitha out or even dream of doing so, it became clear that they were having a Moment as a family, that this was Charlie's First Christmas and so she was, once again, almost a part of something but not quite.

The food trucks offered an opportunity to step away and give the Hastings crowd some time to themselves to take in the occasion without her added presence distracting them or taking away from the significance of the moment. She stood at a little bit of a distance, peering at the menus displayed on the metal siding of the food trucks. Did she want dumplings, or a taco? Or a philly-style cheesesteak that she suspected was nothing close to the original?

Movement from the corner of her eye tore her attention away from the overpriced fare, and Tabitha turned to see Will making his way to her. Puzzlement in her features faded as he grew closer and by the time they were face to face, she was grinning. "I could say the same thing," she pointed out, "unless you're here in some official capacity?" She couldn't guess why the city might need the sheriff present or on duty at a tree lighting when any rookie officer could handle crowd or traffic control.

"So, what do you prefer," she asked, gesturing to the direction of the giant tree. "Rainbow lights or standard white? You should know my opinion of you hinges on your answer." It didn't, not really, but it was easier to tease him gently than fall into earnest conversation. "And if you say no lights, then please know I think you're a psychopath."

[annelim]

@smallstabs Pleasant Valley Farm

While Charlie hadn't particularly calmed down in terms of collick, Annie had realized about a month after her daughter's birth that, if she didn't leave the house, she would slip into what Benji gently referred to as "a funk". That precipitated a trickle of activity at first—whatever her body would initially allow—but, over time, had since grown into somewhat of a routine that she and Benji had formulated and that worked well for them. She'd become something of a stay-at-home mom, her workload dropping dramatically, though mostly unintentionally—if Charlie was not physically against someone's body at any given time, nobody was getting anything done, which limited Annie in terms of actually sitting at a desk and drawing. She didn't mind it, for the most part—mornings with Benji and Connor before work and school, lunches with Candace, afternoon walks around the neighborhood with Charlie and Tabitha, and then dinner and evening fun, where Benji eagerly took over Charlie duty while Annie had time to devote solely to Connor. She had assumed a very domestic life, very quickly, which was somewhat surreal to her, but something she was pretty much settled into, and everyone was happy and content, and what more could she want?

"I'm mad at Benji, FYI," Annie muttered drolly, a cup of cider in one hand, the other rubbing soothingly across Charlie's back as she lay strapped over Annie's chest. Annie glanced around to make sure her husband wasn't weaving through the maze of trees at either of her or Tabitha's sides, within earshot. "I keep asking him what he wants for Christmas, and he keeps saying, like, 'I have everything I want,' or whatever, and I know—it's very sweet. And I am glad that he feels that way. But that sort of shit does not help me."

This Christmas felt different, charged with a muted anticipation Annie hadn't had in years past; Colin's passing last year had effectively rendered that Christmas a blur, and the prior year, Katie was particularly vulnerable, which made things a bit awkward for everyone, though they powered through both years for Connor's sake. This Christmas, their first with Charlie, and with Connor in the house full-time, she wanted to be memorable. And she wanted to make it more memorable by giving Benji the perfect gift.

Annie took a sip of her cider. "He is impossible to shop for, and he always gives the best gifts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being second place. I got stuff from Santa for him, but I need, like, a wife gift."

[smallstabs]

Each year, Tabitha had the bulk of her Christmas shopping completed by the time the season started. It wasn't often difficult -- she had about five or so people to seriously shop for, and she kept an eye on sales that came around during the summer months, and then would pick up something here or there for an acquaintance or white elephant gift. Her ability to plan ahead and take her time to find the right gift for her loved ones was a skill she'd spent years developing.

But buying a gift for a partner? That was something else altogether, and Tabitha sympathized with Annie for worrying over the perfect gift to convey to Benji just how much she loved him. There was more pressure to gift something to a partner, and as she looked around at the various animals in the pen nearby, Tabitha idly thought she was lucky not to have to go through the same.

Or did she? Tabitha frowned as she considered what the etiquette was in this scenario. Was she supposed to get something for Will? What would she even get for someone she slept with routinely but was never seen out with in public? A calendar? A mug? He didn't strike her as someone who particularly enjoyed frivolous or joke gifts. But did he even want anything from her, or would giving him something simply be the perfect setup for humiliation?

This was not a thread she wanted to follow at the moment, and so Tabitha let out a soft sigh and turned to Annie, resolute in her quest to help her best friend with her Christmas gift search. "If all else fails, there's always lingerie," she quipped, a small smirk on her face. "Or maybe you could take him to a boxing gym and literally fight him. It'd be memorable, at least." Her brow furrowed, and she tried to recall everything she'd gleaned about Benji in the time she'd known him. "Does he collect anything? Does he want to?"

[smallstabs]

will-bailey​:

Will nodded, impressed, though realizing it was condescending, stopped slowly. He knew Tabitha had a lot of business because of how frequently he saw her in the station; it only made sense she’d have her own space from which to work. As she continued, then, a wry smile tugged at the corner of Will’s lips, her admission granting a trickle of amusement to work its way through him at her choice of words. Tabitha was a very strange thing, yes. One he found, especially after recent events, that he enjoyed. He decided against dwelling too long on this fact, lest she suspect anything about him was amiss. Will was not an innately sensitive person, but there was something about being around Tabitha that forced him to reckon with the idea that maybe, there was more of a fragility to him than he’d imagined. 

But the delicacy of the subject at hand, the way he watched Tabitha slow while she spoke, consideration filling her tone—it caused Will to soften. He considered his own words quite carefully. “Well, I mean—if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job, it’s that people can surprise you. The world looks the way it does for you because the world you’re in is full of shitty people. But there’s other worlds where people are gonna run into the burning building or stop for the duckling crossings. There’s people that wanna change things for the better, in whatever way. And there’s bound to be marriages that work out, statistically.” He thought about it for a moment, watching Tabitha’s face carefully as he spoke. Gamely, he added, “I hope your friend is one of those. Mostly because I don’t want to deal with the paperwork if I have to arrest you for murdering her husband.” 

People can surprise you. Tabitha bit down on her lip to keep the reply from spilling out of her. Of course people could surprise her -- it was usually not cause for celebration. People were constantly capable of disappointment, and when she thought she’d seen the depths of it someone went even lower. On days when she felt even less charitable, Tabitha could have sworn she’d seen it all, that she understood exactly the human condition, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. That the sheriff of Eureka could have a more optimistic outlook on humanity truly said something about Tabitha’s own opinion of it. 

“You’re probably right,” she said after a moment, finally looking up at him and away from the paperwork she’d yet to complete. “Maybe I’m worried about nothing. I probably am.” Could she help it if she felt protective of Annie? The younger girl had become something of a sister figure and Tabitha felt the same inclination to shield her from harm as she would with her own brother, Ryan. It wasn’t that she thought Benji was bad, or undeserving -- she knew him enough to gauge that he was a well-meaning person -- but the fear that her friend might end up hurt was more powerful than a belief in the institution of marriage. “If anything I should probably be thanking you for not being a pessimist about the whole thing. since that’s kind of my schtick.”

A hint of a smirk formed on her lips when Will mentioned the idea of arresting her for murder. “If I were to murder,” she started. “And that’s a big if. If I were to murder, you’d never be able to prove it was me, let’s be real.” She glanced around at the police office, the officers walking about. “You’d basically have to go based on vibes. Is that how you guys do things in Eureka?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. “Based on vibes?” 

[annelim]

@smallstabs the hastings house, bayview

It made sense, given the nature of her pregnancy and the nature of Charlie's birth, that the infant had turned out to be a considerably difficult baby. Plagued by colic that everyone prayed she'd outgrow, she didn't sleep for any extended periods of time, instead forcing Benji and Annie and Candace to take shifts holding her to their chests at all hours, with Benji proving to be the only one able to calm her down for a long enough time that Annie could take a nap.

Well, and, now it would seem, Tabitha.

Annie, eyes perpetually heavy with sleep, watched awestruck as little Charlotte laid peacefully within the confines of Tabitha's arms, her large, dark eyes blinking up at the woman. Annie took a sip of the latte Tabitha had so graciously brought her, caffeine turning out to be the thing she missed the most.

"I think she's in love with you," Annie murmured gently, joy at the very notion curling her lips upward. "She's never done that for anyone but Benji. I read that there's something in the timbre of his voice that can get babies to relax, but I think she just prefers him," she said, trying desperately to hide her disappointment in this fact. She'd admitted this belief to Benji, who assured her that was in no way the case, but she secretly suspected they both knew the truth. Her spirits perked, though, when she watched Tabitha's uneasy smile. "You're a natural. But if you're done, you can just tell me. Please don't feel obligated to hold my baby."

[smallstabs]

Tabitha had been afraid initially, for Annie to place the infant Hastings into her arms. What if Tabitha gripped the baby too tightly, or not tightly enough, and then she fell? What if Tabitha moved too suddenly and hurt Charlie? For a few long moments, Tabitha sat rigid, completely still, and looked down at the baby for any sign of distress. What she saw, instead, was a sleepy baby who seemed perfectly content in her arms, making soft baby noises now and then to indicate she was still alive.

"Her eyelashes are so long," Tabitha said after a moment, and then looked up at Annie. "I can't believe you grew them. You made a whole human! This human came out of you," she marveled. The idea of pregnancy and the way a baby developed had always scared Tabitha -- it hardly sounded like a walk in the park to have your organs pushed around by what was essentially a parasitic organism using up all your calcium -- but looking at Charlie now, maybe the end result was worth the pain and suffering.

"I'm sure she's not in love with me," she refuted, laughing a little. The very idea any small child would develop an attachment to her was completely alien. "It's probably just a fluke, or something. Besides, you're her mother. There's a connection she doesn't have with anybody else, you know?"

She took in the shadows under Annie's eyes and gently shook her head. "It's totally fine. If you want her back, let me know, but it's no trouble at all." She looked back down at Charlie, her tiny nose and tiny fingers, and looked back up at her friend. "This is pretty nice, actually. How are you feeling, though? Are you getting enough rest? I've heard that's really important in the first few weeks since you're recovering from pushing a whole baby out."

[smallstabs]

[smallstabs]

annelim​:

Abundantly nervous, Annie watched Tabitha’s expression carefully, noting the quick shifts. She furrowed her brow slightly, trying to interpret what it could mean. Tabitha wasn’t one to shy away from letting her true opinions known, and it had been exactly what she wanted when she went to her about this pregnancy in the first place—brutal honesty. She’d been so locked in anxiety that she needed the objective opinion of someone who could view things from all sides, someone who was reasonable. She couldn’t imagine why Tabitha might abstain from sharing how she felt now. She let the thought simmer for a minute, focusing on Tabitha’s question. “Uhm…yeah. Yeah, definitely. She’s—I’m so lucky, with her. I’m so lucky. She’s the best. I’m just sort of at this point where I’m like…I don’t even know what questions to ask.“ She swallowed. Finally, her courage to implore what held Tabitha’s tongue had persisted long enough for her to implore her friend for the truth. “You know, you can—you don’t have to bite your tongue, if that’s what you’re trying to do. You can tell me if you think this is, like, a terrible idea, or that I’m not prepared, or…” She stalled, knowing Tabitha well enough to know that she wouldn’t think that way of her. “Whatever. You can tell me.”

She smiled as Tabitha volunteered herself to help. At this point, Annie couldn’t even quantify what she needed. She’d been doing so much research that she was prepared for all that could come, but when it came to actually experiencing the things she’d read about, she couldn’t begin to know what support she might look for. She knew, however, that she could rely on Tabitha for that. She knew that Tabitha meant it when she offered to help. She knew, too, that she could ask for help from Tabitha without being haunted by the pervasive fear that Tabitha might love her less. 

“Oh, a little merbaby,” Annie cooed jokingly, her anxiety thawing slightly in the company of Tabitha. “We wouldn’t have to pay for swimming lessons, or worry about the pool.” Annie, of course, was already worrying about the pool. She considered Tabitha’s query, and how she hadn’t actually gone so far as to conceptualize the child she was so concerned about ruining. “I…I mean, they’ll be Asian, so everyone will probably say they look like me, even if they don’t,” she reasoned, deadpan.

  She’d thought she’d been doing a good job of hiding her thoughts, of maintaining neutrality and remaining disapssionately neutral, to help Annie talk through whatever she was worrying over, but Tabitha caught the worried look on Annie’s face before her friend asked if she was doing the right thing, and she scrambled to pull herself together. “No! No. It’s your decision, and so it’s absolutely the right decision,” she said, adamant. “It’s a little hard to wrap my head around, personally,” Tabitha admitted with a small shrug. “I never wanted children. Just always figured I’d have plenty of time to have kids, if I wanted them, you know?” She looked over at her friend to gauge her reaction. “So it’s all just as ... foreign, to me, as it is to you. But that just means if you need someone to be grossed out with, you know I’m there.” Tabitha shot Annie what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and thought for just a split second about opening up and sharing her own experience of choosing not to continue a pregnancy. Ultimately, Tabitha figured, it wasn’t the right time to divulge a not insignificant source of emotional baggage when Annie was concerned about her own choices. “I mean, not only is that baby coming out of you like in the movie Alien, but then you have to teach them how to be a person ... that’s a big job.”

She pondered a brief moment, and then her thoughts drifted to the inevitable. “And when it’s time for baby showers, you can count on me to be there with detailed plans so no one can hijack the moment,” Tabitha promised. “Even one of those gender reveals.” Her nose wrinkled, her distaste for the parties evident. But if Annie wanted one, far be it from Tabitha to stop her. “Just no fireworks. The last thing California needs is another wildfire. Maybe you could do a balloon thing.”

Annie’s joke about the baby obviously looking like her made Tabitha give a rather unladylike snort, and she continued to chuckle at her frankness. “If they look like you, they’ll be pretty lucky,” Tabitha said easily. “You’d absolutely crush it with coordinating outfits, too.” Another pause, thinking about the baby that never was and the babies that might never be. “I have mostly recessive traits so I don’t think any of my kids would look like me,” she said softly. 

[smallstabs]

will-bailey​:

Will let his eyes fall over Tabitha curiously, her words, per usual, hinting vaguely at something meaningful without actually touching it. This is how the pair of them operated: the hollow gesture of familiarity without the commitment to it. This wasn’t a judgment, of course—this was how they both preferred it—but occasionally, Will’s curiosity began its incessant gnaw. He found that the more Tabitha was around, the more interested he was in her, in the parts of her, the pieces of her life that he didn’t see. He wondered, then, what she knew about packing up, moving on, resettling. He knew she was new to town, because he knew most of the people in town, and word traveled quickly among them. Beyond that, however, Tabitha’s life was elusive, a mystery he didn’t have the privilege or right to solve. He knew enough about her so that they may exist with one another comfortably. And he knew, arguably most importantly, that she hated Deb. This was anecdotal, but it formed a good portion of their daily interactions. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare to question the meticulousness of your paperwork,” he offered seriously. “You seem like someone that has a filing cabinet at home. Am I far off the mark in that assumption? I don’t feel as though I am, but…” He shrugged softly with one shoulder. “Stranger things have happened.” 

He pondered. “I don’t actually know many married people,” he admitted softly. “At least not intimately enough to know what type of person they are.” In truth, while he was well-known due to his position in town and thus was aware of most of the people living within it, Will truly knew very few people; those he did, he kept at a healthy distance. He didn’t consider himself innately anti-social, but he hadn’t ever been raised with a plethora of company, and found he preferred that existence. It was safe, in whatever pathetic way a grown man could be. “I always sort of operate on t he assumption that people are…you know. Existing. I won’t say doing their best, because we both know that’s largely not the case, but…” he drifted off, scratching his beard absentmindedly with the back of his knuckles. “I think there’s something to be said for being willing to get married, at least. Though people do tend to like an excuse to have a large party.”

Tabitha scoffed and feigned offense to his guess that she had a filing cabinet in her home -- something that was only untrue because Stevie Nicks would undoubtedly get into it and eat her paperwork. “I have an office, thank you very much,” she replied, shooting him a look, although her eyes crinkled when she broke character and smirked. “And yes, it has a filing cabinet. With locks,” she added. She paused a moment, and felt the need to end with: “So I guess you can add me to your list of strange things.” 

Will’s admission, the sincerity of it, took Tabitha by surprise, and her hand stilled where she was filling out the date. She didn’t look up, but listened and considered his words, feeling acutely the similarity between them she hadn’t given much thought to before. She bit down on her lip and quickly debated the idea of sharing any personal side of herself before letting out a soft sigh and finally looking up at him. “I actually don’t know many married people either. My parents, of course, and Annie, my -- my best friend ... just got married. And of course you want to think it’ll be lifelong and work out, but ...” Tabitha trailed off, looking for the right words. “You see a lot of selfishness in people, when you’re constantly looking to uncover dirty laundry. And sometimes you wonder if it’s worth it, really, when people seem programmed to just hurt each other.” She paused, keenly aware of how much she’d just said, and shoved a hand into her back pocket for lack of anything better to do. 

“Maybe we’re not getting the best sample to draw from,” she admitted after a beat, color flooding her cheeks. “I’m sure there are plenty of happily married people out there somewhere. They’re just not the ones keeping me in business.” Another pause, and Tabitha cleared her throat. “But I’m sure I’m just preaching to the choir,” she said. “I mean, I bet you see all sorts in here, anyway, so I’m not telling you anything new.”

[smallstabs]

[stevienicksrps]

i don’t know why i am

the way i am

[jasonmaddox]

@smallstabs.​

location. Rosie’s Diner date. April 27th, 2023

“If I had any doubts I was getting older … I think this headache would be more than enough to remind me,” Jason admitted with a laugh. He gave an appreciative sigh as their server arrived ( somehow managing to hold Jason’s Texas Sausage, Egg, & Cheese Melt, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Milkshake, and Side of Fries, as well as Tabitha’s order, all without using a tray, ) the food smelled fantastic, and it was exactly what he needed after the previous evening’s festivities. Jason’s fingers tapped the worn vinyl seat beside him to the beat of the Ray Charles song was playing. Within a few moments, their server had distributed all the dishes to their respective owners, inquired about topping off their beverages, and bustled off to take care of the next party. Jason hesitated only a moment before snagging the ketchup bottle and putting a sizable dollop on the edge of the plate holding his sandwich, then returned it to the center with an apologetic smile. “This place really brings back memories. It’s nice to see some places remain constant, you know?”

[smallstabs]

When it came to age, Tabitha often liked to fall back on her calendar age -- being a Leap Day baby, she was able to think of her age as only a few years, instead of being in her thirties. She was able to put off the existential crisis that came with aging by simply ignoring her age altogether. She couldn’t deny, though, that she was starting to feel it just like Jason that morning -- the greasy food on her breakfast platter coming to her like salvation from her hangover. “Remember when you could stay up late drinking shitty alcohol and just ... rally the next morning like it was nothing?” she asked, commiserating with him. “God, we really didn’t know what we had at the time.” His comment about having something consistent resonated. In the ten years Tabitha had lived on her own in Eureka, the diner had stayed, ever-present, with a few changes to decor and menu but largely unimpacted by trends in the rest of town. Taking a forkful of scrambled eggs, she let out a contented hum, and nodded her head in agreement. “Especially with so much that seems to change,” she added. New mayor, new construction, new business that rose and fell with trends. “Probably why they’ve stayed in business so long. Everyone knows what to expect in here. Are there many other places you can think of that have been around for as long?”

[smallstabs]

annelim​:

“He’s already a lifesaver with the late night Taco Bell,” Annie mused with a soft smile, thinking fondly of her husband, of his unending enthusiasm and eagerness. No matter what insignificant thing pregnancy brought her way, Annie knew she could tell him, and he’d celebrate it, and embrace it, and cherish it. He’d been spoiling her since they’d found out, and she could only imagine what it would be like when the baby was actually here: how happy he’d be. But that all seemed so far away, now. In the haze of the present, all Annie could manage to do was hang on day by day. 

Annie thought on Tabitha’s words for a moment, letting a gentle silence befall them. She noticed Tabitha drifting, too, and wondered what had consumed the woman’s thoughts, hoping it wasn’t worry for her. “I think…I mean, you’re right. Obviously, you’re right. I…I don’t know how anyone does this and feels like it’s going to be okay. And I guess that’s not a novel concept. Benji’s mom tells me stories sometimes about, like, her pregnancies, or Benji and Flo when they were little, and their dad, and it’s like…very clear that a lot of the process is just going along for the ride, y’know?” Annie stalled for a moment. “And obviously that’s beautiful and I will completely do that and things will be fine. And I do realize that, in some very grand abstract way. I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant on accident. I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant at a really, really inconvenient time, and we are definitely not the first people that don’t have, like, consistent parenting to look to as some sort of guide. ” Annie lingered on the thought for a moment, knowing Tabitha would understand enough of the story as it pertained to Annie’s upbringing, at least; Benji’s was his business to tell, and she knew Tabitha wouldn’t pry; that was the beauty of talking about this with her. She was a sounding board, a nonjudgmental mainstay in Annie’s life. Annie could do anything, say anything, and she wouldn’t fear that Tabitha might do what she expected everyone else to the second she became difficult: leave. And that was the crux of all of it, really— Annie could not afford to be hard to love. It had to be easy for everyone. It had to be easy for Benji. Because she still held the fear that he would come shuttering down like a house of cards collapsed, finally recognizing his grief with the dedication it would eventually demand. She swallowed, not knowing how to mention that insecurity to Tabitha out loud. Much quieter, she continued, “I know things will work out. I do.”

She nudged Tabitha’s elbow with her own, though her lips curled further upward, a genuine grin surfacing. “I did know that can happen, actually, because I’ve been staying up every night reading weird articles about everything related to infants.” Embarrassed to have confessed that out loud, Annie winced slightly, and then her face softened. “…what’s worse is that I know I will still love this baby even if they’re born with a full set of adult human teeth.” 

I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant on accident. 

Tabitha pulled her lips between her teeth to keep from letting out a nervous laugh. If only Annie knew how true that was, she thought, looking down at her feet, moving one in front of the other. As if her whole experience was a private joke that only she knew. It was easier to think of it that way. She let out a slow exhale and then focused on what Annie was saying next, which was most certainly far more pertinent than getting caught up in a life decision Tabitha had made at twenty-two. “Has Benji’s mom been able to answer a lot of questions for you?” she asked. She’d always had Peggy to rely on, for better or for worse, but Tabitha imagined it was difficult to enter motherhood without a mother to use as a walking encyclopedia. “Do you feel like you can go to her with questions, at least?” 

Annie paused at the mention of Benji’s childhood, and while Tabitha wouldn’t ask for information when he couldn’t be there to volunteer it, it did spark curiosity. Had he had an unconventional upbringing? Did he live with the circus? Had he run away from a cult at a formative age? So many questions that she would likely never get an answer to -- Tabitha made a strict point not to google or search any of her real-life colleagues and friends, which extended to their families. Still, Tabitha searched Annie’s face, for any sign that she might be unhappy, whether with her life or the topic of conversation. “Things will work out,” she asserted, echoing Annie’s statement. “You’ve got a husband who is over the moon about this,” Tabitha said, counting on her fingers, “A mother-in-law that you get along with who is happy to help you, a sister-in-law who probably has some hand-me-downs for you ..... well, and me, but I can’t do any background searches on a baby that hasn’t been born yet,” she ended sheepishly. “I’m here, though. For any and everything you want help with.”

“Okay, you’ll love a baby with a full set of teeth, but how about gills,” she teased gently. “Or those webbed feet that people have?” She let out a sigh. “Growing a human is so weird. You think they’ll look more like a Lim or a Hastings?” 

[smallstabs]

will-bailey​:

It was odd to be standing before Tabitha in the context they now existed within, though not for reasons Will might have initially thought. They had been their most vulnerable selves with one another, soft flesh and longing, but any of the expected accompanying awkwardness was absent entirely. The only thing Will found himself feeling as he stood before her, gaze lingering perhaps a bit too long on her lips for only a moment, was a sense of ease—ease with the concept of Tabitha being a reliable facet of his life, in whatever way she would always be around. 

“I could leave,” he countered quietly, though she was correct in assuming that would not be the case. His father had died years ago; nothing was keeping him here, in theory. And yet, here he was. He could cite any number of reasons—the rapport he’d built with the citizens of Eureka, or the fact that he owned land. But Will was a creature of habit, and, worse, a creature of comfort. He’d grown up here. What else did the world have to offer him that he couldn’t have right here? 

Shaking his head, then, as if to dislodge that line of thinking entirely and to simultaneously rebuke Tabitha’s words, he shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Not for nothing, but she gets it eventually,” he reasoned, although this was more to rile Tabitha up than it was to defend Deb. FOIA requests were generally as straightforward as they came, but Deb was frequently tripped up on the appropriate paperwork for any given situation, and she also—which was no secret to anyone in the department or to the woman herself—was terrified of Tabitha. This was generally how Will came to know her, and grow familiar with her, and…

Well, sleep with her. 

He backed up to survey the cubbies beneath the counter, grasping for the FOIA form and pulling it out, setting it down in front of Tabitha. “You know the drill,” he offered with a wry smirk. Watching as she leaned over to begin working diligently, he admired her penmanship, then added, “Am I allowed to ask what this is for? I can never remember. I just typically assume it’s a cheating spouse, if I’m honest.”

It wasn’t that Will was an enigma. It was that there was a distinct ease with which she had fallen into physical intimacy with him. It was that it was entirely too easy to connect with him, that it felt safe to do so, even. It was that the nearly ever-present search for red flags subsided with Will Bailey. That was the mystery. That she could feel so comfortable.  

Even now, when he was assisting Deb in busting her chops and slowing her down. 

“Packing up and starting over gets old,” she countered, thinking of each move she’d made as a child, each attempt to cultivate a new friend group, with no real sense of permanence. Making Eureka home had started out of stubbornness, a resolution to make a place her own. Her sense of home had been hard won, if a little arbitrary in the beginning.

She narrowed her eyes in response to his defense of Deb, who in all likelihood was just another person working just another job. “Eventually doesn’t always cut it,” she said evenly, glancing to the side of the room where the older woman had wandered off to. “Eventually can make things late. Too late, even.” 

With another, softer sigh, Tabitha gave a small shrug of her shoulders and pulled her purse forward, rummaging through it for a spare pen. “Actually, it’s the same as last time. I tried to follow up with the DEA and they said that I didn’t fill the paperwork out correctly so they threw out the request. Which,” she said, pointing a finger in the air to punctuate the point she was about to make. “Which I never do. I always have my paperwork in order. So it was complete bullshit. Either they lost the form and didn’t want to admit it, or Deb fucked something up.” She cocked her head to the side and considered each possibility. “They’re equally likely, so it’s anyone’s guess what really happened.”

“Actually,” she added after a beat, “I haven’t had a cheating spouse in a while. I guess I’m overdue, wouldn’t you think? Maybe some double-life action in there too. A little weird, really, how much of that is going on in a city like this. You think there’s any reason for the trend or are married people just assholes?”

[smallstabs]

she (annie) is everything

he (tabitha) is just ken

[smallstabs]

annelim​:-

Annie couldn’t help but guffaw at Tabitha’s rather disgusting portrait of childbirth, her friend’s typical realism bringing a sort of brevity to the situation that felt necessary. She sniffled, then, rubbing her nose, embarrassed to have made a scene in public—despite their complete solitude. She hadn’t intended to be so…forthright about all of it. She had seen so many videos of friends revealing their pregnancies in adorable and clever ways, and she wanted to be at a point where she could do that. But reaching out to Tabitha, though she wasn’t eager to admit it to even herself, had been something of a call for help. 

Annie squared her shoulders and tucked her hands into her pockets, heaving a deep, steadying breath, and nodded in the direction of the ambling path, a tacit let’s go; Tabitha wordlessly fell by Annie’s side, her small frame shoulder to shoulder with Annie’s. “We took the tests together,” she said, a faint smile playing at her lips at the idea of it, the pair of them huddled together on the bathroom floor, waiting for the timer on Benji’s phone to go off. “He’s so…he’s so happy. He’s so excited. I’ve never seen him this excited before. And I am, too. I am. Just…”

She cast her gaze outward, letting her eyes fall on the variety of foliage, spending too much time focusing on their names. “I don’t know what I’m doing, you know? I mean, I have Connor, but he’s not…he’s not mine. I didn’t have him. I didn’t—I love him like he’s my son, because he is my son, but he’s not…that’s Katie’s baby, you know?” Annie hadn’t spoken this way about Connor to anyone before, hadn’t verbally recognized what she held to be true: while she and Connor shared an indescribably deep bond, she’d never really be what Katie was to him. It was much like her relationship with Candace; Benji’s mom was, in every way, her mom. But she wasn’t…her mom. Candace would be the first person to acknowledge this. “I’ve never delivered a child. I’ve never spent a sleepless night with a colicky baby. I don’t—my body’s never done this, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like, and I know what to expect, but there’s, like, a million extra variables that could go wrong.” Softer, then, she turned to look at Tabitha. “There’s a million things I could do wrong.”

Tabitha fell into step alongside Annie easily, despite the difference in stature. Her legs moved slightly faster to keep in time with Annie’s stride, but the exertion required was minimal. Tabitha listened attentively, as she always did; she considered the pauses in Annie’s speech, what she might not be saying, as much as what she actually did say, and bit down on her lip as her worries settled down around them. 

Her attention slipped, for the briefest of moments, as she recalled a time nearly fifteen years ago, when she’d been repeating nearly the same sentiments that Annie was pointing out now. The maelstrom of anxiety and tension and planning long-term for her life that had only barely begun, and that absolute certainty that she was not ready that propelled her to make a choice entirely different from Annie Lim’s. But it had been her choice, and one that she had not regretted for a single moment. Still, Tabitha wondered idly, would she have been like this? Nervous energy but tentative excitement? 

She wasn’t sure. 

Not that it mattered, she thought, shaking her head the slightest bit to clear those thoughts. What was done could not be changed. 

“I’m glad you have Benji in your corner,” she said quietly. “It’s good that he’s excited. I’m sure he’ll be really helpful, especially when you want snacks late at night. Does Connor know yet, or is he too young to get it?”

“I have no idea if this helps,” she replied after a thoughtful pause, “as I have also never done this.” Tabitha gestured to both of their abdomens. “But .... pretty much anyone who has kids had to be a beginner at some point, you know? So you’re in very good company with the whole first time parent thing.” She reached out and gave Annie’s arm a gently squeeze before she continued. “It’s definitely going to get a little uncomfortable, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s research. I’ll have all the stuff you can expect while expecting so you can feel a little more prepared, alright?” 

Another pause, and Tabitha spoke up again. “Can you imagine if your kid comes out with a full set of teeth? That can happen, you know.” 

[will-bailey]

@smallstabs​ Eureka Police Department

Will Bailey was not a romantic creature.

It had never been imparted him him, the softness by which some people were able to live their lives. He hadn’t ever learned how to lead with anything other than a curious mind, rife with suspicion. It made him a good cop, but a lousy lover; his last serious relationship had been in his early thirties, with a woman too kindhearted to realize that she was far, far too good for him. When she realized he wasn’t going to propose, she packed up shop; the last he’d heard, she was up in Oregon with two kids. He felt nothing but the dull ache of foregone happiness for her, like a phantom limb. 

He bided his time now with flings—trysts, he thought of them as. It would start as drinks, maybe dinner, and end in her bed, and he would leave, and maybe she’d ask him back, but sometimes not. That was the extent of his love life, and it was something for which he didn’t really have the sense to long for something better.  He was happy with his life, in whatever definition happiness held for him at this point. He long doubted someone might come along and skew that perception.

Tabitha Smalls was an entity within said life that served, at equal measures, as both a thorn in his side and the brightest part of his day, depending on what she was doing. Their last interaction had left him with a lingering warmth, a sweet taste still settled on his tongue, and he was disappointed—although not at all surprised—when a few weeks had passed since. He knew that, given the nature of their paths as they often convened, and given the size of their shared town, he would see her at some point. 

He didn’t know that point would be today.

He recognized her voice at the front desk from his office, a wry grin crossing his lips as he scanned over a document; he quickly forgot what he was reading, sitting back and listening to Tabitha’s thin veneer of patience melt into something more akin to annoyance. Deb was a good clerk, but she wasn’t the most adept at handling requests that were even remotely involved, and Tabitha’s FOIA request fell within that category. Will grinned as he came to stand, crossing his office and emerging. When Tabitha caught sight of him, her face remained neutral, which was both impressive and disappointing. “I’ve got it, Deb,” he offered placidly, coming to the front counter casually. He pressed the heels of his palms into the edge, leaning into a bit, and looked down at Tabitha expectantly as Deb scuffled off to her desk. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he raised a brow at Tabitha.

“You should be nicer to her. Someday I won’t be here, and she’ll be all you have.”

[smallstabs]

Sometimes, Tabitha thought she must have erred in a previous life to have to deal with the likes of Deb. The woman, all but her nemesis, never answered Tabitha’s requests correctly the first time, and seemed to intentionally slow down her efforts when it was Tabitha who was making a request. And it wasn’t as if Deb had a right to be this annoying -- it wasn’t just ego propelling Tabitha to ask for this information, it was federally required to be available to the public if they asked for it. 

So when Deb made yet another mistake, Tabitha counted to five in her head before slowly letting out a breath, trying her hardest to rein in her irritation. She opened her mouth to repeat her request for information yet again, and abruptly closed it when sheriff Will Bailey walked toward them. Will Bailey, in charge of the Eureka police force. Will Bailey, the gatekeeper of the information she was looking for. And also: Will Bailey, the man who’d lain in her bed, who’d touched her intimately, who had bought her drinks over a game of pool. Will Bailey, the man she’d not called despite her own assurances she would. Tabitha blinked, and schooled her features into a mask of neutrality.

The mask broke almost as soon as he spoke, his half joke spurring Tabitha to let out a snort. “Absolutely not,” she replied automatically, settling easily into the roles now assigned to them -- those of colleagues at odds. “First of all, you’re not leaving. I know your type. You’ll be here just as long as I will,” she asserted confidently. If Tabitha was right -- and she most certainly was -- they were cut from the same cloth, too stubborn to leave a position or a place before their time. “Second of all, she will not be all I have, because I don’t have her to begin with. I’m in here once a month, minimum, and each time it’s like it’s the first time she’s ever heard of a FOIA request.” Tabitha put a hand on her hip and levelled him with a pointed stare. 

“If I didn’t know better, Sheriff, I’d think you were trying to keep information from me.”

[smallstabs]

annelim​: 

Annie hadn’t been the best friend to Tabitha—or to anyone, really—and she felt a heinous guilt about it. Since Colin, Annie had been in little contact with anyone outside the Hastings-Mabry-Dupont family; frankly, even Katie had been somewhat sparse, which she could only assume was Benji’s choice (another thing that had worried her). She had informed Tabitha of Colin’s passing with a text, and they did check-ins, sort of, but generally, they’d existed in their own separate orbits. It felt miserable to be changing that only now and for something so…monumental. She’d missed Tabitha. Being with her was so easy.

Annie had not been prepared for Tabitha’s knee-jerk response, but it didn’t surprise her; Tabitha had always made her concern for Annie clear, putting Annie’s needs in perspective when they felt altogether unimportant. It was of no shock, then, that Tabitha’s first response, when Annie was so clearly…not the joyous, buoyant mom-to-be she should have been, was to offer Annie a way out. Annie scoffed, almost wryly, shaking her head softly while she inhaled a little sniffle. 

“No, no, I—you don’t have to apologize. I understand what I look like right now. I can’t imagine it’s, like, a pleasant or reassuring thing to have that bomb dropped on you when I’m…” Annie rolled her eyes at herself, a huff of frustration accompanying it. She didn’t want to cry. They were in public, for God’s sake. And yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from burning. “I promise I’m not, like, in distress.”

Annie watched Tabitha’s face for a moment. 

“I—I wanna have a baby. Like, that’s—I really do. I really, really do. I just…I feel like…” She straightened her back out, trying to gain some composure, to stop rambling. She wet her lips, thinking. What was there to say? She murmured, then, gaze downcast. Defeated by the very notion of her admission: “I just feel really scared.” 

Although Annie attempted to reassure Tabitha she wasn’t in distress, Tabitha gave her friend a long, searching look as she continued to state how she was now expecting a baby, choosing to bring a new life into the world. The idea that one could be enthusiastic and also scared about being pregnant was entirely understandable even to herself, and so she nodded slowly, the weight of Annie’s announcement sinking in. It was actually a relief, in a sense, to hear that Annie was scared, if only because it explained her emotional state. 

“I don’t blame you for being scared,” she replied, letting out a small sigh. “You’re literally growing something from scratch inside you. It’s like a parasite, taking up all your nutrients until it comes clawing and screaming out.” She trailed off and blushed as she realized she painted a rather grim portrait of pregnancy and motherhood. “But they can also be cute,” she added quickly. “After all of .... that.” 

She hadn’t meant for her own fears and baggage about pregnancy to seep in to a conversation about Annie’s current state. It wasn’t her intention to color Annie’s impression of having a baby so negatively. “What’s -- what’s got you so scared?” Tabitha asked after a moment. Annie was all but Connor’s mother in practice, and she had, from what Tabitha could tell, the nurturing character that seemed present in all the best mothers. She couldn’t see why there was any reason she would be anything less than a stellar parent. 

Tabitha bit down on a thumbnail, and considered her own brief brush with pregnancy as a much younger woman -- all of the fear and anxiety that had come with it. “Does Benji know yet?”