#heartofagiant

[gothknight]

random peril for @heartofagiant

It had been weeks since they’d had any time off. The cases had seemed to pile in faster than usual for the last month and Jac was spending most of her time with Rhys at the office or travelling. She was thankful that they were able to have a dynamic at work too, that she still felt close, that they could raise eyebrows at each other when the door to Rhys’s office was shut and still make the calls they had to when it was time. But despite how thankful she was for it, Jac was more thankful for this. The Sunday after a saturday where they had actually left the office early, back at 10am from a case in Seattle, the team had been quickly dismissed to get home, get rest, get grounded as fast as they could before something else inevitably came in. And they took full advantage of it, at Jac’s house this time despite how much she usually preferred to be at Rhys’s. It was nice to breathe some home into her stoic furniture and crips sheets. And after a night together that eventually ended in hours of catching up on sleep, they spent Sunday at brunch, like real people do Jac had said whens he suggested it. And so far, the drive had been quiet, brunch was quiet, they talked about things that weren’t work and Rhys smiled into her eyes and Jac let herself reach across the table and hold her hand, right there against their warm coffee cups. It was only realistic that they’d stop so abruptly, panic in Jac’s eyes and her hand already on the door of the car as she shouted. “Rhys -- stop the car. Stop the car, pull over.” It had barely stopped when she was already half out of it, on her feet in front of the two story gym in her neighborhood, smoke billowing from the windows. "Fire isn’t even here yet,” Jac shouted over her shoulder before taking off toward the people gathered outside the building.

[gothknight]

a mess for @heartofagiant

“Alright ... “ Jac kept her head straight and her eyes fixed on the man in front of her, “I get it. There’s no way out now. You know we know what you’ve done ... to Lily. To those other girls. I know you couldn’t help it. I know you’re sick. We .. want you to get help. But we can’t help you if Lily’s in danger. She’s just a kid, Mr. Benson and right now you’re a man, holding a kid at gun point. Every single gun outside can only see that right now. Why don’t you send Lily over to me, and then we can help you once she’s safe.” The plan wasn’t to talk him down. The plan was to find an opening and shoot him. Those had been Jac’s orders. It was why Trevor had sent in Jac and only Jac. The door was still open, her team could still hear anything that happened. In her ear piece, Trevor took the order back, telling her to talk him down if she didn’t have the shot. It was too risky. His gun was too close to the eight year old girl in his arms. Benson was squatted down behind her, breathing at her next, finger pressing far too unstable on the trigger of his weapon. Jac’s heart was hammering. Every ounce of emotional energy she’d had that week had gone to keeping herself together and unemotional an avoidant of Rhys. And somewhere in that, she’d lost track of holding together that small sense of panic that child predators always instilled in her chest. The way it made her a little more reckless, a little less focused, a little too emotional if she looked the kids in the eyes. Even as Jac talked him down with sympathy and empathy in her tone, it tasted like acid, undetectable but present. The kid in his hands was the priority. 

Benson shouted something, abrupt and panicked about how he knew if he let Lily go they’d kill him. They’d never let him out these doors. Jac wasn’t sure he was wrong. He’d abducted and assaulted at least eleven girls between the ages of six and twelve. Babies. Babies like Lily with tear stained faces and something in their eyes like the world didn’t have good things in it any more. The kid cried as Benson panicked and Jac met her eyes, determined to remind her that good guys were real and heroes and light. That she was here and that outside that door sat the best and bravest people Jac knew. “It’s going to be okay, Lily,” Jac assured her, voice gentle still. If she focused on the girl it was easier to talk to the man. “Mr. Benson I understand. But you’re -- she’s scared. They’re going to do anything they can to make sure she’s safe. So am I. How about this? You let Lily walk out that door and I’ll stay. I’ll stay right here, and you can use me to negotiate with them instead.” He considered it. Jac could see it in his eyes so she pushed onward. “I’m taller than her. And they’re my team. They won’t let you hurt me. You’ll have a Federal Agent. You’ll be safe.” 

“Take off your vest.” Benson finally ordered. “I’m not letting go of her until you put your gun down and take off your vest.” Jac swallowed, nodded. She hated the prospect of removing her gun from where it was aimed enough to keep Lily safe but she had to show him some sort of trust here. Her team was outside. They’d shoot if something happened. Jac promised herself that Lily was still safe and lowered her weapon, taking a deep breath as she dropped it to the floor and took her vest off, placing it over the weapon. “Come over here.” Benson’s tone was impatient and nervous but he seemed calmer, more curious. Jac nodded and pressed onward, walking slowly toward where he was behind Lily. Jac took the little girl’s hand in her own and shielded both her and Benson with her own body. “Go ahead,” she urged gently, looking directly at the man squatting below her. “Let her go.” Benson stood, pointing his gun directly at Jac as he did but she didn’t release her grip on the little girl’s hand. “I need to tell them she’s coming out.” Jac didn’t want to yell and startle him. “I’ll do it.” The team was probably able to hear most of what was going on anyway but this part was important. “Okay,” she said, voice still steady and gentle. “Tell them the plan. Tell them she’s coming out, that you and I are going to stay here. Lily go ahead and take a couple steps toward the door. My partner’s outside.  It’s going to be okay.” The little girl did as she was told, and as she did, Benson called out the door, wrapping an arm around Jac’s shoulders and fixing his gun at her temple, his voice bolstering and erratic again. “The kid’s coming out. I’m letting her go. Your agent stays with me. No funny business or I’ll put a bullet in her head. No one shoots or she dies. I mean it!”

[gothknight]

blah blah blah @heartofagiant and i have too many threads

The next few days went better. Calm, cool -- despite the burning across Jac’s back if she wasn’t careful. Rhys was good about hovering but not too much. She re-bandaged her back every night and neither of them talked about how comfortable it was, how much Jac trusted her touch when she didn’t trust anyone else’s ever. How much she trusted Rhys’s lack of judgement. Jac was good at not looking at things, not dissecting emotion, just moving beyond on it, going through the steps, focusing on work and that was what they had to do. 

On the fourth day, Orin asked to see them again, back in the dining room, this time several hours after dinner and their evening service. Rhys was spending the night doing some talking with the women, probably caring for babies or brushing cows or some sort of soft, compassionate thing. Jac kept to kitchen, helped washing pans but didn’t make much conversation. She liked to stay close to Orin. He was beginning to like it too and she was selling him that her relationship with Rhys had been strained since that night. She challenged him but it was teasing, always caving just a little, always a little intrigued. Still skeptical, but letting him win. 

Jac didn’t know what this meeting was about. But when she found Orin standing in the dining room with a belt in hand again, her throat fell into her gut. There was a boy at his side, maybe ten years old. Orin’s posture suggested something smug, like he’d already won an argument they hadn’t had yet. Rhys wasn’t there yet so Jac didn’t start pressing, only crossed her arms protectively over her own chest, securing the sting of her back against her shirt. Skeptical was an easy position to stay stoic in. 

[gothknight]

closed starter for you guessed it @heartofagiant

Plane rides never felt long. Even with several stops and layovers. Even out of Afghanistan. Even if she’d never go back. Even on the way to a funeral. Erin always wanted them to be longer. They were quiet, peaceful. There was a sort of lonesomeness on a plane that couldn’t be replicated anywhere else. And it was acceptable there. Everyone kept to themselves, tucked their heads in travel pillows and headphones. Erin could sit in silence let the dry air from the vent above come down on her face. She could do that and ignore all the nods, the glances from people who either really wanted to look a soldier in the eye or didn’t know how to. It was probably what she liked about the military. It echoed close and familiar to the sort of kid she’d grown up as, the ones adults were always trying to look at or didn’t know how to. 

The final plane was small, barely any passengers, and thankfully none Erin recognized. She’d come late at night on purpose, still in her boots and pants, a green shirt, just one backpack. A woman behind her complained about the dry airplane air cracking her lips. Erin ran her tongue over her own. Another familiar feeling. One she wanted. One she liked. She once again shook away the thought that she wouldn’t ever go back, buried it by forcing herself to focus on this, on Sophie, on being a person, on her marriage, on -- Rose. 

God, Erin hated familiar faces. They always did that thing where they made her chest feel like it was going to crack. And they were so painfully nice to come home to. Or come back to. Home should have been the wrong word. She knew Rose long enough to know she’d probably showed up for just that reason. She’d always gotten a kick out of cracking Erin’s chest open and being one of those painfully nice things. “You’d think you’d have more important things to do than stand around here all day watching people wrestle over cheap luggage.”

[gothknight]

Random Peril(TM) the series pt1 - @heartofagiant​

Wait. Wait.... Wait. Everything was a balancing act now. Jac waited patiently for the moment, as adamant as possible about not shooting until it was absolutely necessary. In their job it was necessary a lot. And they were trained for that, to not hesitate, to protect themselves first. The people they chased were too dangerous to do anything else. But Jac waited, waited as she’d been told, took extra care, tried to meet expectations. And before she had the perfect moment to shoot him, he was at her chest, nearly knocking Jac off her feet. She kept her ground and shoved back, not as effectively as she’d have liked against a man this size with her gun in one hand. But she couldn’t shoot him now. Even if she did, it was point blank range. Another death. Another body to add to her body count that was desperately trying to keep down. She took a hit to her gut by his knee and got one in to his face with her own gun. But not a shot. Until there was a shot. Somewhere at the end of the scuffle, Jac trying desperately to keep her weapon out of his reach. One shot, another. Loud and abrupt and cracking. She’d heard a lot of gunfire in her job, but it never knocked the air out of her chest. This did. She fell, backwards, fast and hard, nearly heels over head. The room spun. There was another shot. Jac searched for the source of it, but her vision was blurry and dark. She searched for focus, for her breath, for her gun, her fiancee, her partner and found only that echoing crack and something that looked like the ceiling of the basement. 

[gothknight]

closed starter @heartofagiant because these kids are still a mess

Jac was needling him. Purposefully so. And it was working exactly how she wanted it to. It was important to push his buttons, just a little. It made her a challenge but it also made him uncomfortable, gave him room to slip up or room for others in the group to fall away from loyalty. They’d given him a week that was slower, easier, letting him be comfortable and powerful. Jac had managed to stay skeptical enough that she could push his limits, but receptive enough that her pushing came across as curiosity, challenging for the sake of finding answers, scratching an itch. Rhys was playing devout perfectly, being shown the ropes of the inner workings of the community and getting close to the women that wouldn’t come near Jac’s potentially toxic distrust. 

This needling had worked a little too well. Oren’s hand slammed on the dinner table. Jac steeled. The women and children around them flinched. The men’s backs straightened. “Stand.” His voice was calm despite the anger in his eyes fixed on Jac. She swallowed, performing nerves as she dropped her fork and stood, slowly at the table. “You can ask questions, Jacqueline. You can challenge our beliefs with ignorance but you do not disrespect my word in front of this family. It’s about time you learned that. Daniel,” he nodded to a young boy sitting two seats away from Jac, “please clear Jacqueline’s plate.” Jac watched without moving, shoulders straight, shifting in mock discomfort as the child he asked cleared her plate from the table. It was disconcerting even without needing to fake it, the room frozen in silence. Oren nodded when Daniel returned, his face softening as he wiped his hands and stood from the table himself. “I’m sorry but dinner will need to be cut short this evening. I need to have a word with Jacqueline. Please take some private time for prayer. I will see all of you in the chapel at  8.”

[gothknight]

closed starter for @heartofagiant because we’re sadists

The crack was deafening, mind numbing. It seemed to shatter the walls of the house around them. One crack, one flash of light. Jac was searching for Rhys, fumbling through the dark of the house. it hadn’t been dark a minute ago. Evening maybe, six o’clock. But that crack -- it was dark now. Jac’s feet barely carried her, dizzy numb, aching. The sound of Rhys’s name called from her lips buried in her mind by a second crack. Her legs gave out. She grounded her palms against the wood floor. If the building still at walls, this was Rhys’s study. Rhys was there. Jac was sure she was there. With every crack and flash of light, reality skewed further. At the sound of the third one, Jac drew herself into the framework of the doorway, pressing her spine against the wood like she could hide in it, knees pulled tight into her own chest. A flash. Jac grounded herself on the familiar sound of her own cry in her ears. Her hands were on fire. They shook and burned in front of her. She pressed her eyes shut, pressed her back further into the wall. “No, no, no -- not here.” Another flash, another crack. Jac wasn’t sure if they were real anymore or in her head. A man stood in front of her. Altair Strain. He was a leader, tall, sadistic, cloaked in black and flashes of blue light. Jac had never, could never forget the sound of his voice. He raised his wand again and she curled into her own body, hands white knuckled on her own knees now. He always shouted the same thing over the sound of a curse. Where is she? This time Jac shouted it back. Eyes full of tears, voice hoarse all over again, desperate, fractured as pain shocked her bones. Lightning, another crack. “Where is she!?”

[gothknight]

closed starter @heartofagiant

Jac didn’t keep a lot of friends. She didn’t make many emotional bonds and she didn’t tend to carry people or relationships from one day of her life into her next. Her closest people, for the last few years had been her team, and even they were kept at a distance. Griffin Price was an exception to that practice. He had been an exception since the day they met, in a freshmen year english class. He was charming, warm, someone Jac didn’t ever have to lie for or try for but who never asked her not to either. Getting straight on a plane after getting his text was a no brainer. Jac was set to head home in a week anyhow and had far too many personal days built up. Griffin could have waited until she got there but after looking at the file, Jac couldn’t. And so now she was standing in the doorway of the bar she stood in every year around this time. 

Home was the easiest and hardest place to come back to all at once. The only place she felt most comfortable and a toxic pool of bad feeling at the same time. This bar held warm memories, most with Griffin, most around these fall months when a good drink was particularly comforting and the attendance rates were higher. It wasn’t hard to spot Griffin, broad shoulders, kicked back and Jac nodded to the bartender, Sam, before approaching and leaning just at Griffin’s side on the bar. “Sir my name is Jacqueline Griffin. I’m with the FBI. I am going to have to ask you a couple of questions.”