Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Jeremy!" Christine whispered harshly, "Put your phone away!"

The sound of children's singing rang through the auditorium.

"I'm recording it!" Jeremy argued back.

"You're recording it on your phone? When are you gonna-?"

"-It's a voice memo!"

"When are you gonna need a recording of my students singing?" Christine laughed. "They're not that good."

"Well, I-I just thought, y'know, it's nice to-"

"No, c'mon-"

They wrestled over Jeremy's phone as discreetly as they could, stifling laughs, and the recording cut out.

"Reminder to self," Jeremy began, "The Heere family tree: three siblings, Bobby, Judy, Richie."

There was some static from the air conditioner, then the recording cut out. 

"Wait, can you say that again?" Jeremy rushed after Christine along the dirt path.

"About city hall?" She questioned.

"Yeah-"

Christine stopped in her tracks. "-Oh my god, you're recording this!"

"Yes." 

"What? Do you need something to prove it in court?" She giggled dramatically.

"I just want you on the record! You are okay with not having a massive wedding."

"You're…" Christine chuckled. "You're insane. Yes! Confirmed! I confirmed it, I'm on the record. I don't want a big wedding."

"Thank you, Chrissy. Neither do I."

The recording cut out.

Running water hit the rocks, creating splashes of sunlight. The stones were shining like precious metals.

The music of it echoed for several minutes.

"Jeremy!" Christine's voice was distant and muffled.

"Oh, hey!" Jeremy sheepishly called back.

Christine ran up to him, winded and out of breath. "We-, we're all away around the waterfall, I thought you were right behind us."

"Sorry!" He went to support her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm okay."

"What were you doing? Taking pictures?" Christine turned to look at the scenery.

"No, I... I was recording."

She looked back at Jeremy inquisitively. "What were you recording?"

"I'm just kinda capturing the sound, it's pretty."

They stopped to listen for a moment. Birds chirped between the trees. A soft breeze blew through their hair.

"Do you ever actually listen back to these?" Christine asked.

"I haven't yet."

Jeremy's hand drifted forward and he took Christine's. She squeezed it in response. 

Christine was almost a foot shorter than Jeremy. She went up onto her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

She settled back onto the ground. "You ever think you're going to?"

Jeremy paused. "...I guess when I miss it." 

Christine exhaled and smiled at him endearingly. "I love you."

"Love you too."

They started walking back to the rest of their friends. The recording cut out.

Another started playing.

There was silence.

"Today is Thursday, July twenty-eighth, twenty n-nineteen. My name is Jeremy Heere, and, I have been lying to my wife since the day we met." He bit his lip. "If Christine were here she'd ask 'why are you recording?' And I'd say 'I don't know, but I hate myself!' ...but she's not… It's six forty three, and I think I've left my charger at Denny's? So that means I have like, thirty minutes before this cuts out."

Jeremy's shaky car drove along the rain-soaked road and he gripped on to the steering wheel firmly. Suddenly, the GPS chimed in, telling him that his destination was on the right. He immediately swerved round the bend, reflexes on overdrive. 

The horns of aggravated drivers blared through him.

"Jesus, fuck-" 

He narrowly avoided being hit by another car. 

Jeremy groaned then started singing uncomfortably, the way you do when you desperately need something to fill the air.

 "Oh, I'm gonna die out here~! There is literally n-nothing out, here. Not even an AM radio station. I'm gonna die, and they're gonna find my car! But all that will be left of me is my phone~"

The rumble of his tires slowed down to a stop on a gravel path.

Jeremy took a deep breath. He held his recording phone tightly in his hand.

"I can see Christine's family country house, log cabin, or whatever." With the other, he pulled his keys out of the ignition. "I can definitely see the appeal of it."

Jeremy got out into the open air and slammed the car door shut, taking his phone and a brown paper package with him. He was immediately pelted with sheets of rain.

Jeremy grit his teeth. "It's peaceful, and remote. Great place to run away to; especially when you've found out your husband has been uh, l-lying about who he is and refusing to acknowledge it." 

He began to walk down the path towards the large, pricey looking house. It had a faded wooden deck, dotted with old chairs. His body swirled with anxiety. As he got closer, and closer he could hear a faint buzzing grow louder, and louder.

Jeremy spoke into his phone."I think someone's… drilling?"

He tried to think of some point to add to that, but his mind was blank.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet.

There were lights on in the windows. That and the drilling, someone was definitely home.

Jeremy cleared his throat and spoke into his phone again. "Mission statement: salvage the most important relationship of your life. First step is to m-make it to the porch without having an anxiety attack!"

He approached the faded deck and took his first step onto it, it creaked loudly. Jeremy cringed. Then he took another step up, then another, and soon he was standing a foot away from the front door. 

It had a bronze, ornate knocker, just like what he'd seen in the background of pictures.

Jeremy grabbed onto the door knocker's handle and held it up. His hand went still with tension.

"All that's left now is to just uh… do it. I just have to do it." 

He closed his eyes then knocked a rhythm on the door.

Jeremy waited, but there was no answer.

So he knocked again. 

The sound of drilling stopped. Jeremy apprehensively opened his eyes. After a moment, footsteps became audible on the other side, intentionally quiet.

"Christine?" Jeremy called softly, "I can hear you in there. I just want to talk, I can e-explain everything." 

His phone felt like poison in his hand.

"Or… you can just leave me out here. Which is fair, considering everything ...Listen, I have something to give you, I'm just gonna slip it through the mailbox."

He forced himself to move the brown paper package in his hand up to the mailbox and squeeze it through. The paper crunched loudly but with a little force, it fell to the ground on the other side with a thud.

"Let me know when you've opened it."

There was another pause.

Suddenly more buzzing started up around Jeremy's head, much higher pitched.

His body whipped around and he started swatting wildly.  "Mosquitos! Great." 

Frustration was starting to build.

After a minute or so he gave up trying to get rid of them and turned back to the door.

 "Look, there's two options. Either you're my wife, Christine Stephanie Canigula, who lives at o-one hundred and twelve Secretariat Drive and plays under the video game handle 'Candy_Canes_123'; or you're a stranger squatting in her childhood home."

There was no movement from behind the door. 

"You have the same car as her, I guess that's stolen, right?" 

Nothing.

"Well then I don't know you, and y-you don't know me, and you have no reason to trust that I'm not some murderer or something but I'm not some murderer. I drove through a really fucking scary storm to get here, and I just want to apologise. If you were her, you'd let me in... But you're not." He sighed. "Christine, I know you're listening right now. You deserve to get to know me, before you get rid of me. Please."

His voice cracked on the last word.

Still, there was still no response. Jeremy frowned and stepped away from the door.  "...Okay… I respect your privacy then, I'll go, it's fine-"

Just at that moment, there was a click and the door cracked open, held in place by a metal chain. Christine peered through from inside. 

Jeremy froze as they stared each other down. 

Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. "...I'm only letting you in so you don't get eaten alive by mosquitoes." 

"...uh… th-thank you," His heart was caught in his throat. "Shit- Christine!"

Christine closed the door again in his face. Jeremy could hear her taking off the chain lock. Then she opened the door wide, glaring at him with tears in her eyes.

"Hey-"

"-Close the door behind you."

She pushed away from him and walked further into the house.

Jeremy hesitated then cautiously stepped inside. He closed the door behind him. 

He held his phone up to his face and spoke into it quietly. "So, Christine is still really upset with me, which she's allowed to be."

"Jeremy, come on!" Christine called.

"Yeah, sorry!" Jeremy put his phone down. "I'm just-"

As he entered the hall he was immediately faced with a bright blue construction tarp that was stretched over a section of wall.

Jeremy's thoughts trailed off as he walked past it, mouth agape. He was unable to tear his eyes away.

Past that, he made his way into what was clearly a living room.  There was a TV that looked like it was from the nineties, hardwood floors, and an old coral couch.

Christine was crouched in the corner, softly comforting a… Duck?

"It's okay, Henry, he won't be here long," she whispered.

"What the fuck is that doing here?" Jeremy blurted out.

Christine turned to him. "I'll ask the questions."

"Is that a duck???" he exclaimed.

Henry quacked.

Jeremy smiled. "What is this, the f-fourth season of Friends ?"

Christine crossed her arms. "Yeah! Totally! This is the one where we find out that Gunther is a pathological liar who's been lying about who he is for the last two years and that his name probably isn't even Gunther, so Rachel gets kinda upset and is like 'get away from me you crazy person', but of course, he somehow tracks her down even though she never told him the address of this place. Like a stalker."

Jeremy was struck silent.

Christine glared daggers at him.

"...I'm not a Gunther," he finally muttered.

Christine scoffed. "I don't know who you are!" 

"That's why I'm here. That's wh-what the package is for." Jeremy said.

"Ugh, right, your stupid package." Christine stormed past him, retrieving the package that had been left at the door. 

"...I didn't give you a fake name, Chris, I'm actually called Jeremy." He pleaded after her.

"How am I supposed to believe you?" Christine eyed him furiously as she re-entered into the living room, holding the package in her hands. "And don't call me 'Chris'."

Jeremy glanced at the ground. "They were asking about a 'Jeremy Heere', weren't they?"

The men in suits. 

Christine fell down onto the sofa. "Maybe you lied to them too."

"I didn't."

"Who knows." She murmured. 

"I didn't." Jeremy reaffirmed.

Christine sighed. "Do you seriously think your name is what I care about right now anyway?"

"Yes." Jeremy replied.

She paused. "Well, you're right, I do care, but I care more about the fact that I asked you point-blank what was going on and you didn't come clean, which makes you more than just a person who lied, 'Jeremy', that makes you a liar."

Jeremy winced. 

"And I don't have time for liars," Christine finished.

"I... okay."

"Why do you have your phone out right now?" She demanded.

Jeremy had almost forgotten it was there.

"Are you recording this?" Christine asked. 

He closed in on himself even more. "Kinda."

"Are you serious right now?" She stood up and charged over to him.

"It's for me!" Jeremy protested.

"It's for you?!" Christine exclaimed.

Henry the duck started quaking and flapping around in response to the sudden excitement.

Christine groaned. "Henry!"

The scene alleviated some of the pressure in Jeremy's chest. "...I like your duck."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he's the best duck ever! Don't change the subject!"

"Where'd he come from?" Jeremy asked.

"I just- mmmmmmgod okay," She shut her eyes tight. "His name is Henry, and he's here because I found him on the patio and invited him inside. He loves Cheerios, Hadestown bootlegs, and is sorta my best friend right now which I'm sure is sooo hilarious to you but you know what? I don't feel like I should have to explain anything when you refuse to explain the most basic things to me like, what's your real name? Where were you born? Who are your parents? Are you actually a person or some heartless, lying robot?!" 

Jeremy leant away. "Whatever gets you through this, Christine, I'm not gonna judge you for, s-seriously, I didn't come out here to start anything. There's just one thing I need to do."

Quiet fell between them.

Christine looked Jeremy up and down, then twirled away from him and walked back across to the other side of the room.

She took a deep breath.

"...One thing." Christine repeated.

"Yeah…" Jeremy said. "One thing."

Suddenly a deafeningly large crash resonated through the room.

They both yelped. Christine pressed herself against the wall with a panicked look on her face.

"...What was that?" Jeremy asked.

Christine was visibly screaming inside her head. 

"That was the sound of the bookshelf I just installed falling apart."

A series of smashes.

"And that was the wine glasses." 

Bang.

"...I don't even know what that is…" She practically deflated.

Jeremy cringed. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," Christine forced. 

He glanced nervously from her to where the noises came from, heart hurting with empathy.

"I know I'm not m-meant to ask any questions but, aren't your dads pretty w-wealthy? Why didn't they hire someone to do all of this work?"

Christine's stance softened and she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "...They don't know?"

"They don't know you're renovating?" 

"I'm not 'renovating', asshole, I'm just- do you smell smoke?" She peered up at the ceiling. 

The TV burst into flame.

Christine quickly ran to grab a large blanket from the couch. "Fire! Amazing!"

She then rushed over to the television and started batting at it with the blanket, coughing and spluttering from all the smoke in her face.

"Holy shit, do you need any help?" Jeremy stumbled around after her. 

"No! No, I'm fine. Leave me alone." 

Jeremy whined and made his way into the back corner. He pulled his phone out and held it close to his face. "Christine is putting out a fire w-with an old knitted quilt, thing. I'm not helping. She doesn't want me to."

"You, don't, need, a record of this!" she yelled. The fire finally puttered out. Christine threw the blanket aside.

She breathed in and out heavily. "...As you can see, stranger, your timing is amazing."

Chapter Text

A new recording.

The room had been cleaned up, the destroyed television was nowhere to be seen, and the slightly singed blanket had been draped over the side of the couch. 

That’s where Jeremy was sitting next to Christine. Jeremy held his phone in his lap, screen down, out of her view, recording. The paper brown envelope he had brought with him sat between them.

Christine wasn’t looking at him. She had deep bags under her eyes and was bouncing her leg in a way reminiscent of someone who had lost sleep.

They sat in silence.

Jeremy tried to string some words together in his head, but they all garbled into a mess. Reminders of how badly he fucked up swarmed around him. Couldn’t think. Can’t think. Christine doesn’t want to see you.  

“You’re panicking.” Christine said.

Jeremy jumped. “W-What? No. About what?” 

He leaned back and tried to act chill, tooootally chill.

“I can tell…” She smiled. “You get this look in your eyes, like you’re in a staring contest.” 

“I’m not-, n-no I don’t do that…” Jeremy paused. 

‘Okay, maybe I do that,’ he thought. 

He stared at the ground. 

There was a pause, the perfect opportunity to say what he needed to say, but it felt like his chest was gonna burst trying to force anything out. 

Jeremy sighed and looked around the room. It was messier than he’d first noticed: the previously on fire TV was obviously, kinda charred; the wallpaper was badly faded and dotted with mystery stains; and various items looked really out of place. There was a bathroom cabinet, in the living room, on the floor. Hm.

Maybe if he wasn’t so full of himself, Jeremy would have noticed all this earlier. 

Without thinking about it, he managed to create a sentence. “So, um… what’s up with your-, th-the house?”

It’s not her house. Oh god now you’re thinking about it.

“I’m renovating, thought I mentioned that already.” Christine said.

“W-Well yeah, but, why?” Jeremy asked. “I mean it’s, it's nice here, so,”

She stared off sadly. “It was…”

This is why you keep your mouth shut.

"...Sorry." Jeremy grimaced.

Christine shrugged and didn't respond.

"Sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, just, stuff."

"You said." Christine fiddled with the edge of her skirt.

Jeremy nodded. "R-Right."

"When are we going to do the stuff?" she asked with forced politeness.

"I'm building up to it," Jeremy managed.

"Okay."

Christine picked at the skin around her nails absently, every so often glancing back at Jeremy and giving him a once over.

"You could've just called, y'know?" she said.

Jeremy looked back at her. "Hm?"

"If you'd have just called… I'd have been there." She frowned. “You didn’t have to show up out of nowhere.”

"W-Well I didn't think, I thought you'd w-want some distance because you left so quickly," Jeremy fumbled.

"So you came to the place I ran away to. Because I want distance." She said.

He tried to pull some logic out of the situation. "No, I, I mean well yeah but I didn't-, I needed to see you in person." 

Christine leaned back and crossed her arms. "I didn't need to see you unannounced. I’ve got enough going on right now." 

It was just then Jeremy noticed her eyes were starting to look watery under the ceiling lights.

She took a deep breath and started blinking heavily. "The house… uh, you asked about it? I just kept finding things wrong with it I guess, kept trying to fix them."

She pointed to the hallway Jeremy entered through, the one with the tarp stretched across the wall.

"Like you see that hall with the… with all the lights out? It’s because one had been flickering for a while, like, since I was a kid. So I went out to the nearest store and bought a new bulb because it was starting to get to me I guess, having the flickering all the time, but I tried to put it in and suddenly every bulb in the entire hall just, went out." She laughed humorlessly.

Christine glanced over to Jeremy, a suddenly nervous look on her face. He reassuringly smiled back at her. Receiving confirmation, Christine carried on.

"So, I went up into the attic to check on the wiring, and found a huge patch of black mould covering one of the walls, which y'know is really bad because it's toxic, like it can cause respiratory, skin, vision, circulatory and immune system problems so obviously I had to try and get rid of it but to get rid of it I had to look inside the walls, which is why there's also a tarp in that hall. It used to be this wall of pictures, super fancy, but I had to get rid of that so I could look inside the walls because I don't want my dads to get health problems just because of some stupid mould!" 

She stopped but Jeremy could still see the gears actively whirring in her head.

He hesitated to speak in case she—

"And then," Christine continued. "When I tried to rebuild the wall that I had destroyed I found two holes burrowed in the ground and there were mice in them and I couldn't just kill them so now there's mice here I guess I mean I got them out of the holes but they’re somewhere. Then I tried to fill up the holes with cement but it wouldn't stick and-, did you know cement could expire?"

She turned to Jeremy. 

Jeremy blinked. "Uh.."

"Yeah, so, it can; so now I need to buy new cement, take care of Henry who I found outside on the patio by the way, clean out the pipes in the bathroom and the kitchen, rebuild the wall, get rid of the mice without killing them, kill the black mould, rewire the ceiling, and fix the lightbulb!" Christine threw her arms out. Then, as if remembering where she was, she suddenly withdrew from Jeremy with a blush over her cheeks. "...And that's what's up with the house." 

She was done.

Christine pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jeremy felt the responsibility of speaking fall on him. "It's nice that you're doing all this f-for your dads… I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

Christine shook her head. "I was meant to be relaxing. I promised I'd take some time to myself and—" 

A guilty expression washed over her face.

"And…?" Jeremy prompted. 

She shifted in her seat and hunched her shoulders.

"And forget about you?" Christine mumbled. “ Under no circumstance do you hear out Jeremy .”

"Oh…"

 Jeremy felt shame wash over him. His brain immediately tried to reject it.

Then a thought came to him. He felt like an asshole for even considering it but...

"Christine," he started. "Do you think maybe the reason y-you're obsessing so much over things you can’t fix on your own is because you still… I mean you're still…" 

Christine cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Don't."

"But why would you let me in if you didn't still like me?" Jeremy pointed out. “And you always do that, you a-always try to fix everyone else’s problems to avoid your own.”

"You were gonna get bitten by mosquitoes if I didn’t let you inside!" Christine yelled. "I'm not just gonna leave you there in the cold and rain over my own stupid feelings."

"But I was about to leave anyway, you could have let me," Jeremy said.

She scoffed. "If you're so desperate the option’s still open." 

Jeremy backtracked. "Wait, no, I’m not done here."

Christine groaned. "You keep saying you need to do something and you’re not doing it and you won't explain what the thing is." 

"Because it's hard for me." Jeremy said.

“You think this isn’t hard for me?" she asked. 

Jeremy held his breath. God don’t, do not, do not please i'm not ready i'm not ready i'm not ready—

“...Fine. Okay. I’m ready now.” he managed.

Stupid.

Jeremy with one hand timidly picked up the paper envelope, and with the other he kept his phone in place.

Christine eyed him suspiciously. "You're recording this, aren't you?"

Jeremy stopped. "Wh-What, no, I—"

“Stop treating my like I’m stupid. How long has that been on?" She demanded.

Jeremy retracted back to his regular seating position, now with both the envelope and his phone in his lap.

"Um, s-since the start of t-this conversation?" He stammered. 

Christine scowled. "Why?! Why do you always do that?"

Jeremy seized up like a deer in headlights. "It's just accountability! I need it. Please."

"You—?" She gave him a confused look. "...Oh my gosh, fine, whatever, whatever gets this over with faster." 

"So I can have it?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes." Christine confirmed.

He exhaled shakily. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Jeremy took the envelope in his hands and did a countdown in his head.

Three

Two

One

He nervously teased open the glued shut tab, then he handed the envelope over to Christine. 

She glanced between him and it, like one of them would explode. She stuck her hand inside and pulled out the first item.

Jeremy held his phone up to his mouth. 

"Um, for the record, Christine's found the box of matches," he said.

Christine shot him an annoyed look then went back to what she was doing.

"Now she's found… her wedding band, which she left on the kitchen counter for me to find." There was an ounce of bitterness in Jeremy's voice.

"Stop that," Christine scolded. She pulled out a piece of paper and examined its contents. "What's this?"

"Now Christine's looking at a document."

"You can talk to me in second person, Jeremy." She read the title. "The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness: a procedure and some preliminary findings…” Christine hummed. “My wedding ring, a book of matches, and a scientific paper."

She looked at him questioningly. 

Jeremy gave no explanation.

Christine waited for a moment, then sighed and scanned over some of the ‘preliminary findings’.

"Oh, I get it," she said. "The thirty six questions."

"Yeah," Jeremy joined in. "F-For the record, that’s the thing we did on our first date, the thirty six questions to—"

"The thirty six questions to fall in love." Christine finished for him. "Worked the first time, why not twice?" 

Jeremy pointed toward the envelope. "Th-There's more in there."

"Right." Christine pulled out the last item, or rather, ‘items’; various loose papers, photos, and membership cards, all held together by a rubber band.

"For the record, Christine's holding everything that I, th-that I forged over the last two years in order to be, uh, Jeremy. The one born in Washington state and with three siblings and…" He trailed off, not wanting to recite every other lie. 

"Right." Christine sank.

Jeremy’s voice failed. He apologised to her in his head.

“What’s the point of this?” she asked.

Jeremy finally decided to bite the bullet.

"I want you to burn them with me," he said.

Christine raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"All of the stuff that I faked, it needs to be gone." 

"And why do I have to be involved?" she asked. 

"Because it's important," Jeremy said.

"That's not a good reason." Christine scowled.

"Because after we do this, I'll leave you alone." He finished.

Christine groaned and dramatically leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed. She sat there silently for a moment, face scrunched up like it always was when she was thinking. Then she jumped to her feet, forged documents in hand.

"Fine. Let's go do this. I'll find a trash can, you go look for lighter fluid. Should be in a kitchen drawer somewhere." Christine walked out of the room, leaving Jeremy sat there by himself.

"Really?" he asked.

She didn't seem to hear him.

Really. 

A smile slipped onto Jeremy's face.

The recording must have been paused for a while, because the next sound that played was clearly not within the same sequence of events. It was the crash of a metal trash can on tile.

Jeremy and Christine stood opposite each other in the kitchen, Christine had dropped a metal trash can between them. Jeremy was holding the lighter fluid and the documents, while Christine held the matches close to her chest. Jeremy’s phone had been placed on the granite countertop next to them. 

He worked off the elastic band that tied his documents together and tossed it into the trash. Then, after some hesitation, he dropped his loose documents in too.

Looking at them splayed out inside made him feel ever so slightly nauseous. 

With shaking hands, he unscrewed the cap on the lighter fluid, and began to pour it out over the legal documents, i.d cards, etc.

“That’s enough.” Christine said.

“S-Sorry.” Jeremy stuttered.

He stopped pouring out the lighter fluid and put the bottle down onto the counter.

He took a deep breath and started speaking. “So, for the record, everything's ready. Now all Christine has to do is l-light a match and drop it inside."

Christine glared at the match box in her hands.

“That’s all Christine has to do,” she mused.

“Yeah,” Jeremy stared at her nervously. “That’s all Christine has to do.”

She sighed and looked up at him. “I still don’t see why you need me to join in on your little cremation ceremony, you’re the one who made everything up.”

Jeremy's mouth started talking. “It was more collaborative than that…” 

“It really wasn’t.” She frowned. 

He could pretend what he was saying was out of his control but,

"The person who I was when we met was really ashamed of... a lot of things," He rambled. "And when you showed me the questions on our first date that's why I started saying things that weren't true, I-I wouldn't have... if you hadn't..."

Even Jeremy could feel the bullshit radiating off of this. He forced himself to shut the fuck up.

“What, so I was just supposed to ignore you?” Christine scoffed.

Jeremy felt like he was going to be sick. What's said can't be taken back. "Maybe you would have been happier.”

Christine glared at him, hard.

“Maybe I would have been.” She clumsily opened up the match box, picked up one of the matches, and struck it against the side. It immediately crackled into flame, dancing between their eyes.

With only a hint of doubt behind her expression that was heavily overwhelmed by anger, Christine flicked the match into the trash can. Immediately everything inside was engulfed in fire.

Buckets of smoke shot into their faces.