I'm not even really playing with the idea of an au, but just....
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo truly fits Brokerlynn (and dinostar) so well.
(In the context/with the vibes of dinostar, this convo between Evelyn and Harry)
"If there are all different types of soulmates, then you are one of mine"
"I'm absolutely positive that I need you more than I've ever needed another living soul"
(again, in the context of dinostar, this Harry taking to Evelyn)
"After all, I love you. Maybe not in the way a husband should love a wife but enough, I think."
(This but in the context of Brokerlynn)
"...people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless, while serving themselves ruthlessly."
(This but in the context of how I think a hypothetical dynamic between post canon Darius and Brokerlynn would look/how I think Soyona and Darius rivalry would look)
"And then the three of us sat in the kitchen, eating our oatmeal quietly, all aware that Celia had staked her claim. I was hers. She would make my breakfast. Harry was a visitor."
first piece for pride month! yay! I hope i’m not late for the catradora hype and I really hope you guys like it! (I’ve started this a while ago and decided to finally finish)
Soyona Santos headcanons: reationship history version (including my headcanons about how her past relationship impacted her feelings for Brooklynn)
Tw for mentions of homophobia/lesbophobia
Soyona had known she liked girls since she was 8. When she was 11, she'd discovered the term "lesbian" and came to the realization that that's exactly what she was. She was a lesbian. When she'd told her mother, Priya, about her preference for girls, she'd been met with pushback. "Dearest, you've never even kissed a boy, how could you possibly know?" or "Soyona, that is improper and you know it." But after having spent years being unwavering in her insistence that she prefers girls, her mothers objections turned into "I hope you know I don't think there's anything wrong with you, love. I had a friend in finishing school with a preference for women. Despite what your father might say, it is not twisted in the slightest." and "I want you to have tea with me once a week from now on. We'll discuss the art of discretion. No one can ever know."
It always circled back to the same thing; "No one can ever know"
Especially not her father.
When she was 14, she was put in one of the most prestigious academy's in the country. She'd been set to go to the all girls finishing school her mother had attended, but she knew why the arrangements had been changed. By that time, she'd already kissed a handful of girls, but due to her need for "discretion" as her mother put it, had never dared to date like the other kids her age.
The academy was where she met Denise, a carefree girl just four months older than her. They were roommates, and quickly became best friends. Unlike Soyona, Denise wasn't half as secretive about her identity. Sure, she wasn't out, because no one could be in their social circle, but she snuck out on weekends to meet up with girls from the public schools in the area. She had pink streaked hair and didn't bother to play along when the boys at the academy flirted. Soyona not only envied her spirit, but she admired it, and quickly fell in love.
Soyona and Denise were the epitome of opposites attract, but they fell hard and fast. Multiple times a week, Soyona would sneak into Denise's bed and sleep against her chest until five minutes before the wake up call.
And the best part was the cover they had. They could hide in plain sight. On weekends, they went to the mall and shopped. They got their nails done together once a month. They stayed up giggling and sharing secrets until a headmistress came into their room and threatened them with detention.
The first holiday they spent away from one another was torture. Soyona spent every social event longing for her girlfriend, and spent every night talking to her on the phone. She missed the feeling of her soft body against her own at night. She missed kissing under the covers until they were both breathless. She missed passing notes in class. She missed Denise's smile, her beautiful green eyes, her laugh. Even her obnoxious pink hair.
Every holiday after that, Soyona stayed with Denise's family. She learned quickly that her girlfriends family was actually accepting. Sure, Denise couldn't come out, but they treated Soyona like a second daughter, and Denise's mother and father often teased them lovingly about their displays of affection. It was healing to say the least.
When Soyona was 17, rumors began to spread about Denise, and soon after the rumors caught up to her as well. Girls would side eye her in the locker rooms, making a show of covering up their chests when Soyona's gaze would accidentally land on them. As if she'd ever look at anyone but her love. Boys would throw jabs at them in the hallways, calling them slurs, at times using borderline violent language. It was hell. And not just because it was threatening the perfect image Soyona had curated for herself, but because she'd have to hear her perfect girl cry herself to sleep at night. She couldn't take it anymore, and so she did the one thing she knew would work. She acted. She put on a show.
"I'm going to go on a date" Soyona said, her hair still wet from the shower. Denise's head snapped up, anger in her eyes. "No the fuck you aren't" She said. Soyona shook her head sadly, "Yes, I am. It's the only way we can fix this. I have to do it."
For years, boys had tried and failed to win over Soyona. Everyone had simply thought she was hard to get, but now they were beginning to guess the real reason. She had to make them think she really had been just hard to get.
So she let Jackson Smith flirt with her in the hall. She pretended to be flattered, forced herself to flirt right back, ignoring the sickness in her stomach when he'd put his hand on her waist. Her waist that only Denise had ever touched. So she let him take her to his father's country club that weekend for a round of golf. Soyona hated golf. But she laughed at his horrible jokes and let his guide her threw the motions of a swing, wanted to punch him because he was leading her through it was though she was a child. In reality, Soyona had a better fucking swing than him. At the end of the day, he'd tried to kiss her, but she'd pushed him back, knowing she couldn't do a complete 180. That wasn't believable. She was hard to get, not a lesbian. She was hard to get, so he'd have to be patient if he wanted a kiss.
On their second date, he'd taken her to the country clubs pool. She was tired of him flaunting his membership. Didn't he know she had three? This was hardly impressive. But she smiled and put on her smallest bikini. She let him put tanning oil on her back, and tried not to cry at the feeling of his hands on her bare skin.
She'd let him kiss her that day. She'd even let him touch her chest. She discovered she was a good liar. A really good liar, and a good actress. When she'd gotten back to her dorm, Denise was sitting in bed reading a book, something about the stonewall riots. Soyona felt a pang a guilt then, feeling as though she was a fake, like she didn't deserve to love Denise. Like she didn't deserve to love women at all. Denise took one look at her, and Soyona couldn't lie to her. "I let him kiss me" She said. Denise slammed her book shut and walked to the door. "You're the worst person I've ever met" She spat, before slamming the door shut.
That night, Soyona had cried so hard she'd made herself sick.
Soyona didn't hear from Denise for a while after that, hearing word that she'd left for home due to a "family emergency". She knew that was bullshit, but was also glad. She needed to be gone for this next part.
Soyona had gone to a party with Jackson. They'd drank, danced, and done substances that she'd never dare to touch now. At the end of the night, Soyona let him take her to a room upstairs and disassociated as best as she could as he'd had sex with her. By the time she was stumbling out of the party, she could hear him bragging to his friends about how he'd finally gotten to her, and she knew her plan had worked. She'd construct a lie next week about her father wanting her to focus on her studies, and how she had to break things off with him.
When Denise came back, it took her only one look at Soyona curled up in bed for her resolve to break. She'd cradled her head in her lap and asked her what had happened, and once again Soyona told her the truth. She could tell it made her sick, but she knew that Denise felt that way on her behalf as well, not just because she was jealous.
"It was horrible, Denise. I can't do it again. If that wasn't enough I don't know what I'll do, it was terrible. I'd rather die than do it again."
Denise had rubbed her back and cried into her hair, whispering in her ear, "You don't have to do it ever again, baby. If it comes down to it, I'll do it next time. I'm sorry I left you. I know you were doing it to protect us. I'm so sorry, Soyona."
For a month everything was nearly perfect. She and Denise spent their nights getting lost in each others lips and bodies, and their days planning their future; Soyona would continue modeling at her mothers request, but would work tirelessly to build her empire, and eventually be so filthy rich that Denise could do what she always dreamed of doing; raising kids in a giant mansion just like her mom had. How they'd have those kids, they didn't know. There was talk of sperm donors and IVF, or they could adopt. Soyona had never even really wanted children, but Denise did. And Soyona wanted to give Denise anything she wanted. The point was, they had a future.
And then Denise died, and every ounce of humanity in Soyona left with her. Every bit of goodness in her heart vanished. To everyone else, it looked like a teenage girl mourning her best friend. But Soyona knew the truth; she was mourning the love of her life.
Soyona was a shell of a human for months, and could barely get out of bed. Until one day she decided that if she worked hard enough, and made enough money and became so powerful no one could touch her, then maybe the grief would leave her alone. So that's exactly what she did.
Soyona's father died of a heart attack when she was 23, and so the family legacy was handed to her younger brother. Her father never wanted a woman as the face of the family, and Soyona had accepted that. She made a name for herself separate from her family despite sharing the same name, and quickly became far more powerful than her father had ever dreamed of being. Sure, maybe some of the her dealings were illegal, but money was money. Power was power.
Her mother tried to convince her to marry, but she declined. Her mother insisted it would be good for her image, but Soyona didn't give a shit. She'd forced herself to sleep with a man once, never again.
But despite her detachment from any and all male relationships outside of those necessary for business, she still didn't come out. She honestly never fully came out, but for years she was quiet about who she shared a bed with. She never let it get out that she was a lesbian. If she'd let that happen too early into her career, she never would have made it.
But when she was 27, she decided there was no point in hiding it. She showed up to the first social event of the year with a woman on her arm. She'd only seen her a handful of times, but they'd slept together twice and she figured that it was appropriate to bring her as a plus one at this point in the relationship. It was a shock, and talked about for weeks. She declined any questions about her sexuality. I mean seriously, were these people imbeciles? She showed up with a woman as her date, obviously she was a lesbian. She didn't owe anyone any answers. Some men tried to claim that she could be bisexual, but she'd laughed every time that conversation was brought up. There wasn't a bone in her body that would ever love a man, but it was fun to watch them scramble. Some people were scandalized, but overall she was a financial powerhouse. People knew that and respected her for it, regardless of if they respected her sexuality or not.
She never stopped loving Denise, and because of it never let herself fall for any other women. It wasn't exactly hard, she still loved Denise just as much as she had when she was 17. No woman would ever compare.
But she didn't deprive herself of sexual relationships. She had a new woman on her arm almost every event. She never had the same woman in her bed more than three times.
Until she met The Handler. Lily, her name was, but only Soyona really had the privilege of using it. After two weeks of Lily being in Soyona's employ, they started sleeping together. Once, twice, and then eventually The Handler would spend at least a night or two in Soyona's bed a week. It made things easier. Soyona no longer had to go out for a drink when she wanted a woman in her bed, all she had to do was tell The Handler what time to be at her apartment.
They never talked much, but the sex was good. Very different from what she normally liked, but she was drawn to Lily, so she didn't mind much. Soyona didn't bother wining and dining her, she knew that wasn't what The Handler was looking for. It was casual, satisfying sex without any strings attached. Except of course the strings that came with Lily being her employee.
Eventually, their sexual relationship fizzled out. Soyona began sending her on too many overseas missions to count, and could no longer count on her to warm her bed.
Between the time when her relationship with The Handler had fallen out, to the events of CT, Soyona had a few one night stands here and there, but nothing substantial. She honestly hadn't found the time.
And then Brooklynn happened.
When she ordered the hit, she honestly didn't really even know who she was taking out. She'd ordered hits on various people quite a few times, this really was no different. So she'd scanned the profile, done enough research to determine that letting the girl continue would be detrimental, and gave The Handler the coordinates.
It was only after the kill had been confirmed that she'd gone back during her nightly glass of red and gone over the girl. She'd seen her in ads in the past, years and years ago, but still. She watched one vlog, then two, then three. Soon, it was 3 am and she'd gone through a dozen videos while also reading up on her; Brooklynn Garcia, daughter of Mateo and Trevor Garcia. She'd been a travel vlogger since the young age of ten, but almost fell off the face of the earth after her return from Isla Nublar in 2016 after having been presumed dead. In every single video, she looked like the classic it girl that was wanted back in the 2010's for social media. Fun and exciting, but not so bold as to scare people off. Entertaining, beautiful, and always in good spirits. Soyona then looked into her life after the island. She was shocked to find that the girl had been with a boyfriend of six years, and was even more shocked when she realized said boyfriend was Daniel Kon's son. She looked through what few social media posts Brooklynn had made after the island; She and two girls from Nublar on a boat with solo cups in their hands, Brooklynn tucked into her boyfriends side with her hand on his chest, Brooklynn posed on the back of a boy with kind eyes, Darius Bowman, she thinks. Nothing else. This girl basically went MIA to the rest of the world after the island.
It was a shame, Soyona thought. The girl had gotten so close to ruining everything. She clearly had a brilliant mind. But Soyona did what had to be done. That's what she told herself, at least.
The fact that Brooklynn looked so similar to Denise sent a pang to her heart, but she ignored it and buried the feeling.
When Brooklynn disarmed her security system and pointed the laser at her despite having narrowly escaped that same day, Soyona couldn't help but accept that Brooklynn was, without a doubt, the most brilliant person she'd ever met. The most determined too. And the way she looked in the light of the moon that night, Soyona had been so caught up in her it was ridiculous.
Soyona didn't remain cautious for long. After someone saves your life when they had no reason to, its hard not to give your trust to them. So Soyona did. She let he guard down fully.
The plane ride back to Dubai was when Soyona started to accept the depth of her attraction to the young woman. Of course, at first she didn't trust Brooklynn, but now that the wariness was gone, the only reservation left was her age. She was so young. Only twenty. Soyona was 34 by that point, on the cusp of 35, and she spent hours mentally kicking herself for the desire she felt. She'd never been with a younger woman before. Well, that was a lie. But she'd never been with anyone more than five years younger than her. This was a fourteen year age gap. It was unethical, and it was preposterous that she was even considering it.
Soyona's resolve first started crumbling during their time in Senegal. Brooklynn was just so smart, so resourceful. And so fucking adorable that it made Soyona want to push her up against a wall and kiss her breathless.
Every bit of restraint vanished when they were on the plane, still two hours out from Dubai. Soyona had caught Brooklynn's eyes wondering to her lips. Her gorgeous green eyes wide and full of want. It took everything in Soyona not to fuck her on the plane.
When they'd gotten back to the penthouse, and Soyona had watched Brooklynn's eyes go wide when she'd opened the prosthetic, she'd realized that despite only knowing the girl for a short period of time, she was well and truly fucked. Brooklynn looked identical to the way Denise had looked whenever Soyona used to give her gifts. Instead of feeling as though her heart had been torn out of her chest as it often did whenever she thought about Denise, she just felt content. Seeing her dead lover in a young woman so full of life despite everything she'd been through...it made her feel things she hadn't felt since the age of 17.
EDIT: btw not sure who came up with the name Lily for The Handler. Maybe it was Lilith. Idk. But credits to whoever it was.
trigger warnings in order: referenced/past self harm, threats, coercion
They have to drag her out. Two more people she doesn’t know open the door, and she can’t even make herself look at them. Her body is shut down. Hibernating. Saving itself from the bitter winter she won’t otherwise survive.
“Come on,” one of them says. “You’ve served your time.”
She doesn’t move. She can’t.
“Hey.” The other barks, stepping forward and — to her horror — kicks her in the ribs. Her body slowly rolls onto her back, her head tilted to the side so sharply she can barely breathe. It takes every last remaining bit of strength to move it in line with the rest of her body.
“What’s wrong with her?” One says to Two, talking about her like she isn’t even there.
The second leans closer — Roxie can feel his presence near hers, feel the soft hiss of his breath on her neck — his eyes snaking down her body— and then, she realises, a second too late, what they must’ve seen.
“Oh shit!” Two exclaims.
“Damn, she really lost it in here,” One says.
“I bet the boss will be happy though.” Roxie’s stomach flips, and the air feels five degrees colder. Why? She lets herself wonder. Why on earth would he be happy with her pain? It’s the crullest kind of sick fantasy imaginable.
A beat of silence ticks by, before Two says, “Guess we should bring her over. Hey!” He barks at her. “Can you walk?”
“N...” No. The word dies on her lips. Her legs feel like sacks of sand, and every part of her body is tired to the bone in a way she’s never felt before. It’s an endless struggle to keep her eyes open, and she would give anything to be at home, cuddled up safely in her bed.
They take her silence as confirmation. One grabs her under her arms, while Two takes her knees. It’s one of the most undignified, humiliating things that’s ever happened to her — not to mention painful. But she has no choice but to let it happen.
Dave wouldn’t do this, she finds herself thinking. He would carry her as gently as he could, set her down on the nearest cushioned surface he could find, keep quietly talking to her as they waited for this to be over. He wouldn’t even think of dragging her down the corridor like an animal.
They bring her to a halt, one final kick to her back, before they walk away. And Roxie is left crumpled on the floor somewhere in a corridor so generic, she couldn’t name it even if she’d been there before. There’s only greyish walls, dull floor, and more fluorescent light. It’s the kind of building that feels like a waste of space.
No one comes, and to pass the time, Roxie begins testing her body. Slowly, she flexes her fingers, twitches her ankles, lifts her un-sprained hand off the floor. She carefully takes it further: moving one arm at a time, stretching them out and back in, letting the exhaustion settle before trying it again. And eventually, like the sun rising, her body begins to come back to life.
By the time Badges reappears, she’s able to sit up against the wall. Being so far beneath him degrades her, but at least this has some dignity. At least she’s not on the floor, at his mercy.
Badges lifts a finger to someone around the corner to his right, and says, “Hello again, Ms Malhotra.”
She nods her head. “Sir.”
“Are you ready to renegotiate my proposal?” He asks — getting right to the point. At least he’s not wasting time toying with them anymore.
“Not until I can talk to Dave first.”
A wicked smile slowly spreads across Badges’s face, and Roxie immediately plunges into a cold, hard pit of dread. Badges beckons to the right corner, and Clipboard and Uniform walk forward, gripping someone trembling, struggling, between them.
Dave.
They toss his body in front of her, landing him hard on his hands and knees. Like he’s worthless. Like he’s nothing — and pure, burning rage boils in her stomach.
“Dave?” Roxie reaches for his chin, turning it towards her. “Are you alright?”
His eyes flicker with recognition— then shock— then distrust. The whiplash startles her, and she lightly jostles his shoulder. “David?”
He blinks firmly, and shakes his head several times, like he’s trying to get something out of his mind. His lips part, but no sound comes out except a pained wheeze.
“David? David, talk to me!”
He gives a strangled gasp, desperate sounds scribbling the shape of what could be called words, and it takes Roxie a second to realise what he’s saying.
“N... Not real.”
He shakes his head again, jolting out of her grasp.
“Dave, don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m...” Roxie trails off. The terrified, disbelieving look in his eyes is undeniable. He must really not think she’s there.
“Dave?” She touches his hand, fingers fastening around his wrist — but that just terrifies him further. He bolts to his feet and takes three steps away from her until his back is flushed against the wall, his eyes screwed shut like he fully expects something to kill him.
“David?” Roxie's voice fractures in panic. “It’s me, it— it’s Roxie. Your, uh... your co-head counsellor. Remember?” A smile valiantly breaks across her face, but it does nothing to quell his panic. He looks at her like she chased him with a bloody knife, and presses his back further into the wall, a rasping sound that’s not quite words ripping from his mouth.
Then, Roxie notices the burn on his throat.
Her heart drops into her shoes.
Adrenaline shoots through her legs and somehow, she stands, and steps in front of Dave, planting herself squarely between him and their attacker. She lifts her arm, forming a shield she hopes will be enough to make them both feel a little braver. “What did you do to him?”
“He’ll be back to normal soon, don’t worry,” Badges dismisses. “He can confess with a simple nod — if he’s willing to.”
Dave and Roxie look at each other with a flash of fear. Will they just keep— keep hurting them until they get the confession they want? They must have unlimited stun guns, unlimited power... How long can they make this last? Dave and Roxie will need food and water eventually, but then...
Someone would notice, reasons Roxie. Someone would come for us. They can’t keep us hidden forever.
But she’s barely spoken to her parents in years, let alone the rest of her family. She has no friends, and all her other colleagues are either dead or not close enough to think to look for her in all this chaos. Dave’s family, she has no idea — but he hasn’t mentioned anyone, and someone as chatty as him surely would’ve said so by now.
It strikes her then, how vulnerable they are. Legally accounted for, tucked under layers of paperwork, at the mercy of people that have none. Subject to what probably isn’t even the extent of the horrors these— these monsters could unleash onto them...
Roxie swallows, her spit scraping like a knife against her throat. She clenches her fist, and steadies her legs, hoping it makes her feel braver. It doesn’t.
But she pretends anyway, stiffens her jaw, and says, “We won’t take the blame. It’s you who should.”
“We did everything wrong?” Badges raises his eyebrows, almost feigning innocence — and Roxie almost laughs. He might want to play the good guy, but she has electrocution marks that tell a very different story.
“Yeah,” she pants. “You did, actually.”
“Oh, and I suppose everything’s our fault?” Badges gives them both a peculiar look. “Look at yourself.”
“At... what?” Roxie says, her voice barely sounding like her. Anticipation swirls in her stomach, and her legs sway, threatening to crumble at the slightest blow. Deep down, she knows what he means. Knows what he’s talking about. Her shame is carved into her skin. But the thought of Dave looking at her — connecting her face, her soul, her smile, to what she’s done — his eyes tracking the dark, reddish lines cartographing a map of desperation and dread — she can’t stomach it. She doesn’t want him to look. He can’t look.
“You could’ve just sat in there, you know,” he says, stepping closer. “Like most normal people would’ve done. You were in there for a matter of hours...” Roxie’s intestines squeeze the life out of her lungs. “...And both of you couldn’t hold back from hurting yourselves.”
Both? Roxie’s head whips around. Her eyes connect with Dave’s.
He sees her scratches. She sees his bruises. She sees the horrified look in his eyes.
“Oh... David—”
He barrels into her with the force of a hurricane. Clings on tight. Like they’re in a storm, hanging on so the wind doesn’t tear them apart. Roxie startles, but holds him back. Clings on tight. He holds her upright. Her fingers tangling into his shirt. His hand swallows her entire shoulder. Cradles the back of her head. His muscles trembling against hers. Hugging her like he wants to absorb her into his skin. She hugs like she wants to absorb him into her skin.
In spite of it all, Roxie has never felt safer in her life.
A crackle, and it all evaporates. Roxie and Dave jolt apart, stumbling, like their skin burned each other, and look at each other, barely believing it happened. Their heads turn back to Badges, waiting for his next move.
“You.”
The voice is so dark with anger, so bright with fire, and so wrought with animalistic rage, Roxie doesn’t even register it as a sound. Then, she sees fury twisted into the folds of Dave’s face, traces his slightly-open mouth, and realises it was him that spoke.
“You h...” His voice dies like a frail songbird, the sound so pathetic it feels like someone stabbed Roxie in the chest. “You hurt her. Us.”
Badges hms. “We didn’t put those bruises on your skin,” he says, his voice light and innocent. “Nor did we scratch it up.” His eyes linger on Roxie’s arms, the surface layer of her forearms torn almost to ribbons, and she tucks them behind her back, her cheeks burning. “You did that.”
“You locked us in there!” Dave exclaims, his voice snatched by a bout of coughing that sounds like choking on coal. Roxie winces. “F... for hours! What the hell did you expect?”
“I expected more restraint, for starters.” Heat prickles across Roxie’s face, and she wants to bury herself in her own skin. Was she really that weak, that she resorted to self harm within hours of solitary confinement? “But moreso, I expected those... rooms to teach you a lesson.”
Lesson?! Roxie can hardly believe what she’s hearing.
“You know how a parent puts their child on the naughty step? It teaches them to calm down, reflect, think about what they’ve done. I was hoping it would do the same for you. But clearly...”
A crackle — and Dave and Roxie freeze like Compies when they spot a T-rex. Her body screams at her to run run get out of here run not safe not safe get out — but she can’t. She can’t move. Dave’s pupils are the size of pinpricks, and faintly, she can see his jaw quivering.
“I see you’ve learned something, at least. Is that enough to make you confess?”
Roxie whimpers, the sound completely involuntary. She jams her eyes shut, and a few tears squeeze from her eyelashes onto her face. When she manages to speak, it’s nothing more than a tremble of a sound. “Please... please don’t. Not again. Please.”
“Don’t beg, Ms Malhotra, you’re above that. I don’t want your begging. All I want is an admission of the truth. Did you, or did you not leave the Nublar Six on the island?”
She can’t speak. Even if she wanted to— even if she tried— she can’t. An invisible hand squeezes the air out of her lungs, and another chokes the words out of her throat.
“Nod or shake your head, Ms Malhotra.”
She tries, and finds she can’t move either. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Helpless.
“Oh, Roxie...” He tuts. Dave visibly bristles at the use of her first name. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. We have an empire to protect. A legacy that, in a hundred years, will be known as one of man’s greatest achievements. You two, however... You’re a pair of camp counselors.” Badges almost sounds amused. “Washed up theme park employees, barely above minimum wage.”
Roxie can’t deny the bitter truth in those words.
“And right there is where you belong,” Badges says with a sickening level of certainty. “Hierarchy is a natural part of life. No one wants to be at the bottom, of course, but... with a mistake like yours,” He glances at Roxie, “Under your belt, I’d say there’s nowhere else you deserve to be.”
Roxie is too broken to do anything but nod.
Badges softens his tone. “Do you see why you have to take the fall for this? Why we can’t let an international monument — a piece of history — be ruined by two people who didn’t know when to keep quiet. If people thought the park could collapse at the ill-timed push of a button, what’s to stop people from pushing every button they can find? Soon, civilization itself would collapse. And then where would we be?”
He lingers, waiting for them to speak. By some unspoken agreement, neither of them do. It’s the only way they can fight back. Make it as clear as possible they hate him with all their being. They refuse to participate in his mind games.
He answers for them anyway. “We’d descend into anarchy. Total chaos. Not a single action, or outcome could be predicted — and we need predictability, don’t we? Jurassic World itself is built on it.”
“Was.” Dave’s voice cuts through the silence.
Badges gives him an odd look. “Was?”
“Yeah. Was.” Dave fixes his eyes on him and doesn’t look away. “The... the park fell. No one in the— their right minds would tr... try to make it again.”
A crackle — Uniform steps forward, stun prod in hand — and Roxie can’t breathe. Can’t move. It’s going to happen again. She is going to be in agonising pain and so will Dave and there’s nothing either of them can do to stop it.
Badges raises a finger. Uniform steps back without him needing to tell him. Roxie can breathe again, but her muscles remain locked in place. It’s like being in that prison of agony all over again.
The air stills. The threat fades. Faintly, she can feel Dave coming closer towards her, curling his pinkie finger around hers. Somehow it comforts her, and she finds it in her frozen body to squeeze it back. The touch warms her, and she believes, for a second, that this is somehow the end of their torment.
A crackle — naivety is danger— never turn your back to the cage—run run get out of the jungle run run run run run run—
Agony cascades down on her. Crashing with the force of a million buildings. Slamming her body into the ground. It punches her in the gut with all the force of each shock put together times ten. She was a fool to think her body would learn to live with this pain. It won’t. It never will. It will never stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. By God make it stop. PLEASE—
The last word rips from her throat, the final plugging between her throat and an ocean. She sobs like a baby, howling in sheer, utter torment. Her lungs want to cry, her stomach wants to be sick, and she clutches her belly with shaking, spasming arms to give her something to hang onto as everything inside her falls a p a r t.
“Huh.” Roxie can almost hear the sick, disgusting, fucking smirk on his face. “Looks like we could break you after all.”
Roxie can’t reply. She is crying so hard her throat aches, and nothing in the universe could make her stop. Beside her, Dave hyperventilates, his entire body shaking so hard she can almost feel it through the cold, cruel floor beneath them.
“But we’re still going to need a confession from you.”
A crackle. Another. No please God no— They’ll never stop. Never. Never. Stop. Please. Stop.
“No...” Roxie’s voice is a frail feather of a whisper. “No, nonono, please, please! Don’t— not again, I can’t do it again!” She burbles, unable to stop, unable to slow down, unable to save herself.
“You know how to make it stop, Ms Malhotra,” Badges says.
“I— I can’t, I can’t, I’m— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Her shoulders shake with sobs. “I can’t leave them there, I can’t give up on them, I—”
“Then you know what’s coming your way. And his too.”
Dave’s pupils shrink to pinpricks, and Roxie becomes petrified all over again. “No! Please, he didn’t do anything wrong. We— we made one mistake. And we’re sorry! We— we’re so, so sorry. If I could take it all back I would, I swear! Please! Please! I’ll— I’ll do anything, please, I—”
“Say it.”
“I...”
A crackle.
“Say it.”
Stop stop please make it stop
“I can’t— I can’t... please, I...”
“Do it.”
“We lost the kids!”
The world falls very quiet. Dave sucks in a gasp. The crackling is gone. Roxie can’t hear anything but her heartbeat.
When Roxie summons the courage to look at Dave, her voice is full of pity. “I’m sorry, David.”
His eyes forgive her. “It’s okay.”
Badges, for the first time since all of this started, looks pleased. “I knew you would do it eventually.”
Eventually. He must’ve known. Must’ve had an end plan. All that suffering... all for nothing. It fills Roxie with sheer, crippling despair. Knowing they didn’t have to be electrocuted. Didn’t have to be locked away alone. Didn’t have to have their souls broken.
“I’m sorry,” she says shamefully, unable to look away from the floor. “David... I’m so sorry.”
“Hey— you made an impossible call,” he says quietly, warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”
He might not— but she’ll never stop blaming herself. Ever. This will haunt her until the day she dies. Unless, of course, she and Dave can rescue the kids. But that is galaxies away.
Badges leaves the room, and returns with an envelope in his hand. He eyes Roxie’s shaking, twitching arms, steps briskly past, and hands the envelope to Dave instead. “That should get you two comfortably back to wherever you came from. With padding, of course.”
Keeping his eyes up and alert, Dave digs a finger into the envelope, but his hand trembles so much, his finger slips past it several times, and Roxie swears she can see a new, needle-thin line of fresh blood blooming across his fingertip. Finally, he manages to open the envelope, and flips through the contents.
“There’s... a lot of money in here,” he says breathlessly.
“Costa Rican Colón, United States dollars, and British pound sterling,” Badges says proudly. “We thought of everything.”
Roxie expects Dave to make some kind of currency-related joke, but he’s sullen and silent, and for a split second, she hates these people for stripping away the light in his eyes. Hates them with all of her heart.
But she has no time to pay that any heed, because Badges says briskly, “First flight to Heathrow leaves early tomorrow morning. There’s a hotel down the road.”
Roxie doesn’t think she can stomach being anywhere near this— this place. Not when... not after this. But her entire body is soaked in pain, every muscle aches at even the slightest movement, and she can’t face the thought of anything further away.
Clipboard shoves a bunch of papers in Dave’s face. “Government permission to fly abroad. You probably don’t have your passports.” It’s the first time Roxie’s heard him speak. He sounds young. Only a few years older than Yaz and Kenji.
Dave shakes his head, and Roxie says, trying to be kind, “We don’t have them. Thank you for that.”
A flicker of a smile crosses Clipboard’s face, and Roxie almost forgets how he stood there, face impassive, as Dave and Roxie were...
She feels like a five year old when she says, “So... can we go home now?”
Badges merely nods his head. Uniform and Clipboard escort them through a maze of soulless grey walls, unlock a few doors— and suddenly they’re out on the street, back to a normal world.
The sudden noise hits her like a truck, and she slams her hands over her ears, before slowly letting them drop. A few shops line the road, billboards advertising TAMALES! — FRESCO! — CALIENTE! and La Lavandería in chipped paint. Someone honks their horn, making Roxie flinch. Dave grabs her hand, and before her brain catches up to her body, she yanks it away. Dave mumbles a ‘sorry’ that’s lost to the roar of the city.
It’s disturbingly like London. Hotter and more tropical, obviously — if Roxie saw a palm tree outside King’s Cross, she’d think she was dreaming — but the greyish buildings are all the same. Everything is so disgustingly... normal. Like the world doesn’t know that she and Dave were just— like they don’t know the horrors they went through.
“I think... let’s just go and get some sleep,” Dave says, and for once, Roxie lets herself follow his lead.
The hotel passes by in a blur. Roxie barely remembers falling asleep, nor waking up, nor the breakfast they choke down. Dave’s very rusty, broken Spanish gets them on a bus to the airport, and they buy their plane tickets, going through security with their permission papers and what little they have left.
And they didn’t give them any painkillers throughout it all — again, why would they? — so Dave and Roxie drag their tired limbs to the airport pharmacy, and Dave slides the pharmacist a thousand Colón in exchange for a packet of paracetamol. They take two each onto the palms of their hands and swallow. It’s ten times worse when dry, and Roxie’s tongue puckers at the bitter taste, but that’s the least of her worries.
“Okaaaay, rain check.” Dave dusts off his hands. They both know they should’ve done this yesterday at the hotel, but Roxie all but collapsed onto the bed the second she stepped inside, and Dave wasn’t far behind her. “Any injuries?”
“Don’t— do that.” Roxie shakes her head like she's trying to get rid of him, and the memories, and everything. “Just... don’t.”
“Do what.”
“That— that thing where you try and make everything seem better than it is!”
“Well excuse me for wanting to be mildly optimistic about this shithole,” he says, suddenly snappish. His anger hits Roxie right in her soft stomach. “And besides, if you’re injured, I think I should know so I can help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” Roxie says petulantly.
“Come on, Rox, don’t be a hero. I just think it’s sensible if you— if we both tell each other if... anything happened to us while we were separated.”
He couldn’t possibly be getting at... Does he know about It? How would he? But Roxie’s brain makes no room for logic, and she snaps, “You don’t just... ask that.”
“Ask what? All I need to know is if you’re injured.”
“You were implying—” Roxie suddenly decides it’s not worth it to expose herself, and says, “It doesn’t matter.”
“What did you think I was saying?”
“I said,” Roxie bites back, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
Dave huffs and sits on a bench, folding one leg over the other. Roxie does the same, sitting one seat over. It’s about a minute before someone plops down between them, Roxie instinctively shrinking away. There’s too many people, too many she doesn’t know, too many people she doesn’t trust to be safe. Too much body on either side of her, too much, too much too much—
“I’m sorry, sir, could we swap so I could please sit next to my wife?”
Roxie’s heart does about ten things at once.
The man looks confused, so Dave translates, in very broken Spanish, “Lo siento, señor, uh... Puedo... sentar junto a... mi esposa. Por favor?”
He nods, and gets up, grinning as he says, “Okey, okey.” Dave and the man swap places, and he nudges Roxie with his knuckle.
“Sorry— I, uh... You just looked a bit uncomfortable,” Dave says, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“It’s fine,” she whispers back. “Thanks.”
It was a good lie. It raises no suspicions. It still takes her heart about a minute to stop fluttering like a hummingbird.
And with the calm comes sadness. Bitter, frustrated, childish sadness Roxie thought she outgrew when she stopped scrubbing tears off her cheeks with her school cardigan sleeve. The guilt of that interaction— let alone everything else: all the times she could’ve been nicer, more patient to him, and wasn’t, and...
“Hey— are you crying?”
“I’m sorry, Dave, I was being so unfair.” Roxie sniffles, and swipes at her cheeks to get rid of her tears. “You were only trying to help, I know that.”
Dave lightly chuckles. “Yeah. You’re just... I know you didn’t mean to be mean. I was a little harsh myself.”
“It’s okay,” Roxie says, her throat tight, not trusting herself to speak above a whisper without crying even harder. Crying is for her eyes only. Not Badges, not this airport full of strangers, not— well, there’s not many of her vulnerabilities Dave hasn’t seen by now. What’s a few tears against being electrocuted...?
They lapse into silence for a moment. “At least your voice is back,” Roxie says after a while.
“Afraid so,” Dave says jokingly. “Me and my annoying voice are here to stay.”
“What— when have I ever said that?”
“Hm, at least... three times at camp?”
Roxie’s cheeks suddenly feel very hot. “Oh. I’m sorry. I— I don’t really think that, by the way.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, lightly bumping her side with his elbow. “It’s just fun to tease you.”
“Oh shush.” Roxie rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t bother to chase the smile off her face. For a moment there, things feel normal again. They could be two ordinary people at the airport waiting for a holiday. No— travelling. She’s always wanted to travel. Maybe Dave does too.
She opens her mouth to ask him, but the tannoy says something in Spanish, and Dave and Roxie wait silently until the same message blares in English, “All passengers for the 8:21 flight to Heathrow, England, please come to terminal two.”
Dave gets to his feet. “Guess that’s us.”
Roxie accepts the hand he offers her. “Let’s get out of here.”
.o0o.
Their seats are in the corner, thank goodness. Dave can tell Roxie wants to be around as few people as possible. If the way she shies into the wall of the plane, like she wants it to swallow her up, is anything to go by, he knows all she needs right now is to get back to London and have a really long nap. Or maybe she can sleep on flights? He doesn’t know, but there’s no chance of him catching some shut-eye even on a good day. Not like he’s flown much before— but he’s never flown like this. With... that hanging over their heads like a guillotine.
Not ‘that’. It was torture. Torture. Torture torture torture. “Torture.” He makes himself mouth it until it doesn’t feel like twisting his tongue into a knot to say. He repeats it until it doesn’t feel like a word anymore. Badges and his bastards (heh... that’s a good name) won’t scare them into being silent. Not Dave at least. Roxie...
She hasn’t spoken in ages. It’s getting worrying. Heck— it’s unnerving seeing bold, bossyboots Roxie so quiet. Her confidence was— is one of the first things he admired about her. He was terrified, unsure, bumbling his way through the days with his charm as the only weapon he had.
But Roxie took no one’s shit. She advocated for Ben to be able to go on the program in spite of his medical issues. She told their boss that the kids wouldn’t be safe doing cliff climbing so close to nesting Pteranodons. And she told people, time and time again, that they needed help. She knew when to call it quits, swallow their pride, and fucking ask for help.
And what did that amount to?
Please say something, he silently begs. Literally anything. Just... give me something so I know you’re okay.
Touch seems to be, well, a touchy subject for her. She’s gone from grabbing his arm to cringing away within ten minutes. She pressed into his side just to shy away again a minute later. It would probably be best to let her make the first move — if any moves are made at all.
Unless she doesn’t feel like she can even ask. She looks so out of it, that Dave wonders if she needs someone to look out for her for a change.
So he takes the plunge, and asks, “Do you want a hug?”
“I— I don’t know.” She looks more defeated than he’s ever seen her. “I want one, but...” Dave’s heart sinks as quickly as it fluttered. “I can’t handle being touched right now.”
“That’s okay,” he says genuinely. “Why don’t you... lean on my shoulder, or... or you can hold my hand, whatever.” Dave suddenly realises how utterly weird that sounds, and goes bright red, mumbling about how “I just want you to be comfortable, but it’s totally fine if not, like, don’t even worry about it.”
He doesn’t expect Roxie to reply — heck, he wouldn’t blame her if she demanded a different seat right now — but she sort-of smiles, and says, “Thanks.”
He also doesn’t expect the soft, sudden weight of her head settling on his shoulder.
Oh.
Sooo that’s happening. Deep breaths, David. He tries to hold as still as possible — the last thing he wants is to disturb her. God knows she needs her rest. That’s his top priority right now. So he shuts his eyes, leans his head back, and tries to shut his tired eyes.
“I’m scared,” Roxie says quietly.
Dave jolts upright, and in the shock, her head snaps up. Dave feels weirdly disappointed. “Huh?”
“I’m scared, David.”
She doesn’t sound angry. Or even sad. She’s just tired. Like she was all crumpled up and left in the bottom of a bin. If he unzipped her skin, he’d only find papery-white creases, like a spiderweb across her empty soul. And there is nothing he can do or say to make it feel any better. No word in any language could soothe this bone-chilling dread.
“I’ll protect you,” he ends up saying.
“And me you,” Roxie replies. Dave gets the feeling it’s mostly out of politeness. As fearless as she usually seems— as she was— she doesn’t even seem like she could protect herself, let alone anyone else. Forget rescuing the kids just yet, Roxie needs to fucking recover! As cruel as it sounds — and he wouldn’t say this to her face anytime soon! — she won’t help anyone if she tries anything now.
So he says, “My shoulder’s still free if you want it.”
.o0o.
“Do you think we should call the police?” Dave whispers a few hours later, when they’re pretty sure most of the plane is now comfortably absorbed in whatever they’re doing.
“What, now?” Roxie’s voice doesn’t even rise with emotion. She’s just saying words. “We don’t have service up here.”
“Yeah— I mean when we land, maybe.”
“Badges seems like the kind of man to know the chief policeman personally and cash in a favour, I don’t think calling them would do any good,” Roxie says.
“It’s better than nothing.”
“I don’t know, David,” Roxie says, sighing again like a deflating balloon. She feels full of those sad, tired sighs. “Dealing with the police isn’t just a phone call. They ask you every personal detail under the sun just to not make a report.” (She would know.)
“The UK police are like that? Yeah, the American ones are about the same,” Dave says. “Won’t file a report for shit, and will excuse anything from domestic violence to literal torture—”
“Don’t... say that.” Roxie hisses, urgently grabbing his arm. “People are listening.”
“I don’t think they are, Rox. And they did literally torture—”
“Don’t.” Roxie’s voice breaks apart in a million different ways. “Don’t say it. Please.”
“But they... they did.”
“You think I don’t know that, David?” Her voice bursts out of her throat in a rush. All the adrenaline leaves her in a second, and she sighs, twisting her fingers into her forehead. “It’s easier not to... call it what it is.”
She knows this to be true. (She was nineteen when It happened and twenty five before she dignified It with a name.) And as much as she hates dancing around difficult language, dressing everything up in a thousand pretty euphemisms, she can’t face... that word being tied to... She just can’t.
Dave knows better than to push it. He knows she needs her space.
But the arm he drapes across the back of her chair is... appreciated. The shoulder he lets her rest on for the whole flight even more so. If Roxie dared to become so complacent, she’d let herself drift off right here on the plane. But being complacent led to the kids getting...
She’ll never make that mistake again.
But of course, it might be too late for that to matter.
Roxie mulls it all over, sinking into the quiet depths of her mind as she absently drags Dave around the London transit system, and heads for her flat in Luton. She truly doesn’t believe it was her fault to leave the kids— well— not entirely. She’ll regret leaving the kids at Camp Cretaceous for the rest of her life, but she knows she could’ve handled it with a little more help. As is the case with far too much in her life.
It was Jurassic World that didn’t help them. It was Jurassic World that refused to go back for the kids. It was Jurassic World that told the world they’re dead.
It was Jurassic World that—... hurt them.
She’ll never forget it in her life. That crackling — even thinking of it makes her arms prickle and her stomach squirm. The incapacitating pain. The agony. It never ended. Maybe it never will end. Maybe it will join her nightmare carousel where monsters drug her water and blow up the room she lies in and taser her half to death. Maybe she will throw up into the toilet thinking about being left in a small, white room for hours on end as invisible hands brand her skin.
Maybe this is just one more wound she has to carry deep inside her. God knows it’s not the first. God knows she’s more damaged now than she’s able to fix. And that’s okay— she can be damaged goods for the rest of her worthless life. If she could just rescue the kids... that would make it all worth it.
And nestled in it all, there’s a flame.
She ruminates on what he said: “We can’t let an international monument — a piece of history — be ruined by two people who didn’t know when to keep quiet ... If people thought the park could collapse at the ill-timed push of a button, what’s to stop people from pushing every button they can find? ... We’d descend into anarchy. Total chaos. Not a single action, or outcome could be predicted.”
It was just a threat. That’s all. More words to lash Roxie and Dave into place.
But it doesn’t make any sense! Why would anyone put two camp counselors through unimaginable suffering unless they were afraid of what they might do without it? Why would they go to so much trouble to silence them unless they were afraid of what their voices could do? Are she and Dave somehow more important than they realise?
Unless... that’s the answer she’s been waiting for. She and Dave do have the power to rescue the kids. Badges all but confirmed it. If they’re somehow a threat to the future of Jurassic World, maybe they can harness that power to help the kids... somehow. She can’t make herself think clearly, but she’ll do it later.
She can do it. She can do it all. She can get the kids back. If only her body would hold herself upright for just a little longer, she...
jkr is literally posting upskirt photos to her social media. when will it finally get through to harry potter fans that their support makes her feel confident and correct enough to do things like this
If the holocaust denialism SOMEHOW wasn't enough for you to shut up about your favourite kids book as an adult; JK Rowling just committed a sex crime IRL against a transgender woman.
It's not clocking for some of y'all that John was literally Francesca's perfect match for a man. He was tall, he had money and manners, awkward af but still somewhat charming and funny. John literally let her do whatever she wanted, had music arranged for her, didn't force himself on her, respected women and the entire family loved him.
AND THIS WAS HER FACE AFTER SHE HAD TO KISS HIM 😤
😐😕😅 That is not the face you make when you're attracted to men and have literally found your best option.
I've kissed boys and always thought it was... meh. Granted some were better than others but I never truly understood the appeal 😪
I kissed one girl at party when I was 16 and finally understood EVERYTHING.
Every time baby girl sees Michaela, her brain literally short circuits. She's like, "Why is this damn woman always so breathtaking every time I set my eyes upon her?? 😤😰🥵" I'm pretty sure homegirl got her believing that witchcraft is real.
She's going to yearn to kiss that woman so badly and when she finally does choirs will sing, flowers will bloom, fireworks will ignite, undies will be ruined and Francesca will get her bedazzled Lesbian wings that we all get when we realize, "Oh shit, I like women in very a homosexual way 🤯🥵😱"
Because ladies, gays and theys, this woman has the clearest cut case of compulsive heterosexuality that I've ever seen.
She's like, "I did the thing that everyone else does but it lowkey kinda sucks and now I believe you all to be liars 😩😒".
Ok but I love thinking about an AU (keyword, AU) where Brooklynn and Soyona actually stay together
Because...
Soyona would be so fucking possessive.
She wouldn't want Brooklynn out of her sight if the situation they were in was even slightly off. I'm talking arm around her waist, guiding her forward by the small of her back, snapping at her if she even leaves Soyona's line of sight for a second.
(think the "If you dare lay a finger on Brooklynn again" scene)
She would love making it known that Brooklynn is hers through Brooklynn's apparel as well. Brooklynn wearing suits that Soyona's worn in the past. Brooklynn having Soyona's initial resting against her throat on a chain. The gem Soyona puts on Brooklynn's right ring finger being absolutely stunning. The kind of engagement ring you can't help but stare at. Soyona making sure Brooklynn never even has to ask when she needs new dress shirts or when she could use a new pair of oxfords for an upcoming event.
If they're out at a bar, maybe Brooklynn wanted to go out, or maybe they went out for networking purposes, Soyona is on high alert. If Brooklynn bends over for whatever reason, Soyona's hand is instinctively either on her ass to keep her skirt from sliding up, or on her chest to cover her from any wandering eyes.
If Brooklynn decides to push buttons, maybe she flirts with a woman at the bar, or lets someone else buy her a drink, a mischievous smirk on her lips throughout the whole encounter, Soyona would practically drag her out of whatever high profile establishment they were in, and fuck her in the back seat of the car until Brooklynn was blissed out and whimpering "I'm sorry" in Soyona's ear.
