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Chapter Text

Jessie Bannon drummed her fingernails on the creamy, maple wood of her desk. Her blazing red hair — usually long and flowing and perfectly-styled —  stuck out wildly from the loose braid resting on her shoulder. The very tip of the braid was dipped in her lukewarm cup of coffee, but she had yet to notice it.

Her alarm had gone off at 5:00 am, as it always did, and she’d pulled herself out of bed, wiggled her feet into her slippers, and trudged down the hallway of her small cottage toward the kitchen. She had smashed the “brew” button on her coffee pot with a clumsy thumb, and let the machine do its work. 

Every night, she made sure to prepare the coffee, the water, and her mug of choice before going to bed. She liked knowing that she had control of her morning, that she could count on herself to make things run smoothly and efficiently, in a space that she could depend on. Her cozy cottage was part of a larger compound, nestled among a patch of trees across the crushed rock driveway from the main house. When the cottage was built, she made sure to request a breakfast nook and a place to do yoga with the sunrise. She was always ready for the morning, when it came. 

Her eyes flicked to the digital clock on her bookshelf — an ancient clock radio from her bedroom in the 90s; lime green numbers on a black background shouting “5:48!” from across the room. Normally, by now, she’d have done all of her sun salutations, and written exactly two pages in her journal. Not this morning; she had zero interest in documenting any of her feelings.  

She knocked her braid out of the way, shrugged, and sipped her coffee, savoring the familiarity of it, enjoying the fact that she could trust it not to make her head spin any more than it usually did. The brightness of the clock’s numbers began to nudge her foggy mind toward the fact that she had forgotten to turn on the light in her office. It wouldn’t be long before the sun stretched out over the coastline and turned on the lights for her. 

She jumped at the heavy click of a lock, and the god-awful creaking of her front door. 

“Morning, Jess!” The singsong voice rang out from the entryway adjacent to her office, followed by quiet, off-pitch humming. 

Damn, she thought, as she remembered what day it was. Wednesday. Bread delivery day.
The humming stopped abruptly outside her office door. “Ah, Jess? Hello?” 

Jessie sighed. “I’m in here, Lawr.” The light switch flipped on and revealed the most beautiful man in Jessie’s life at the moment: Lawrence Quest. His wavy, chestnut-brown hair rested gently on his shoulders — like it couldn’t imagine itself anywhere else — framing his high cheekbones and soft face perfectly. That soft face was currently very perplexed, and a little concerned. 

But he recovered quickly; Lawrence was always quick on his feet. Jessie knew that was one of the things Dr. Quest fell in love with first. 

“Frankly, Jessica,” he took a few steps into the room. “I’m a little offended that you’re brooding in the dark before 6:00 am without me. I would have made us bloody marys.” 

Her lips curved in the slightest smile. “You’re right, Lawr. Forgive me?” 

He snorted. “Forgive yourself, kid. You’re the one missing out on the bloody mary.” He tentatively made his way toward the desk, like she was an escaped zoo animal, and placed a hand on her still-drumming fingers. He leveled his “kind-but-firm” gaze at her, the one that meant she was going to have to talk about her feelings, whether she liked it or not. “So. You’re just… sitting in the dark, at your desk, after you forced yourself out of bed at 5:00 am.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… not really wearing pants.” His eyes narrowed in concern. “You know that, right?”

Jessie jolted upright and looked down at her legs — she was wearing her favorite workout sweatshirt, her slippers, and a gray pair of baggy boxer-briefs she’d accidentally stolen from an old boyfriend, ages ago. 

In another life. 

“I — I, yeah, I knew that, Lawr.” She faked a chuckle. “Duh.” 

“Uh, huh. When are we going to talk about it?” 

Jessie wrinkled her nose. “Does ‘never’ work?” 

Lawr sighed. “Listen, I’ll give you space if you need it, but I’m not going to let you stew on…” he waved his hands at her general situation, “whatever this is… for too long.”

She hadn’t planned on telling him, or anyone. She hadn’t even realized she’d made her decision yet, not until he gave her hand that little squeeze. She took a deep breath before it all spilled out. 

“I’ve got to quit, Lawr. I can’t run Quest Labs anymore.” She exhaled, took another deep breath, and a ragged sob pried itself from her lips. She gave Lawr a panicked look for a split second, surprised at herself, and clamped her hand over her mouth. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, a salty reminder that her brain couldn’t always be in charge. 

“Oh, Jess.” Lawrence stepped around to her side of the desk. “Come here.” He gently took her hands and pulled her up, out of the desk chair, into a tight hug. She sunk into him and cried harder than she had in a long time. 

As per usual, the only person she could convince to hold her was her boss’ husband. 

“I can consult,” she stammered into Lawrence’s shoulder. “Or go part time, I don’t know. It’s too much.”

Lawr pulled back enough to see her face. “How long have you been feeling this way? Did something happen?”

“No!” She threw up her hands and took a few steps away from him, turning to look out the window. The sun was just peeking out over the angry waves of the Atlantic; it was going to be another rainy day. “Well, kind of. It’s a lot of things. Hadji stopped by last night with Rachel, to show off her Halloween costume.” She took a few steps back from him and paused for a moment, hoping the twisted feeling in her stomach would pass. 

It didn’t. 

Desperate for something to do with her hands, Jessie yanked the hair tie out of her frazzled braid and began combing her fingers through it, hoping to smooth it down. She huffed and turned her gaze back to Lawrence.

“Do you know what her costume is going to be this year?” 

Lawr nodded — of course he knew — but she went on anyway. “She’s going as me! She had the most adorable little business suit, and she was so excited, and Lawr, I hated it. I almost vomited on her tiny high heels right then and there.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It took me forever to find those in her size.” He tapped his finger to her nose, stepped back to give her some space, and sank into the plush chair across from hers. 

Jessie exhaled loudly, and allowed herself an actual, tiny smile. So much had changed over the years, and her heart was breaking over it — finally. But this change, this person? This new addition to the “Quest Team” was as perfect as a warm slice of bread, pulled straight from the oven, and slathered with butter.

Dr. Benton Quest was her employer at Quest Labs. Or rather, he used to be her employer. He’d offered the position of CEO to Jessie years ago, and had stepped down to take on the role of “Level 1 Consultant,” in an effort to lower his administrative workload. The truth was, of course, that he was so much more than that. When her father, Race Bannon, was assigned by the government as Dr. Quest’s bodyguard, her life changed monumentally — most of her adolescence and teen years were spent accompanying her dad, Benton, and his two sons on adventures that took them all across the globe.

Lawrence was eight years younger than Benton Quest, and no one had seen him coming. Lawr had been hired as Dr. Quest’s personal assistant after Mrs. Quincey retired, and somewhere in between the answered phone calls and coffee deliveries, the two men had fallen enthusiastically, head-over-heels, stars-in-their-eyes in love. 

The whole thing had taken some getting used to, but three years after their wedding at Palm Key, Jessie couldn’t imagine her life without Lawr in it. Her mom was still working in South America on various dig sites, and only came back to the states for Christmas every other year. She was pretty sure her dad would be playing the same game of tag with his ever-burning flame, “Jezebel” Jade Kenyon, until they both ended up in a nursing home in a jungle somewhere. 

Lawr brought her the comfort she imagined a steady, maternal figure would typically provide… but with better bread and more booze.

“So. You don’t think the archetypal ‘Jessie Bannon’ should be a successful business woman in expertly-selected, expensive heels? I think that Jessie is pretty badass, personally.” 

Jessie slumped, still pantsless, back into her desk chair, and grabbed the basket of bread off of a pile of papers. She lifted the tea towel and inhaled the warm, slightly acidic aroma from underneath it. “Mmm. Sourdough? I didn’t know your starter was ready.” 

Lawr could smell avoidance from a mile away. “What would you rather Rachel’s costume look like?” He picked a small picture frame off of her desk and stared thoughtfully at it for a second before sliding it over to her. “Like this?” 

For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, she felt like someone was lacing her into a corset. She always forgot about the photo, because she’d turned it away from her line of vision years ago. She wiped the dust off of it with her sleeve. Strapped up in climbing gear and standing at the base of a dusty rock wall was a 14-year-old Jessica Bannon, dressed in dark jeans and a hunter green tunic top, belted at the waist. She was sweaty, her hair was a mess, and she was clearly beside herself with happiness. 

In the upper right-hand corner of the photo was a white sneaker and a denim-clad ankle; someone with a head-start up the face of the cliff. 

She set the photo down quickly, and let out a small whimper. She hated when she whimpered, but sometimes she just couldn’t think of anything else to do. “Yeah. Like that.” 

“Jessie, you know the only thing any of us want is for you to be happy. Seriously.” 

“I know. I know that, but—” 

“And if you’re about to tell me that you don’t want to disappoint Benton, I’ll just stop you right there. He’s worried about you, has been for a long time. And I don’t think you need me telling you how your father feels about it.” 

Jessie groaned. Her father. Race had stopped hounding her about her life choices a long time ago, but he still invited her to join him every time he hopped on a jet with Dr. Quest. He was, as they say, a man of action, and his former daughter of action hadn’t left US soil in five years, hadn’t left the state in almost two. He always asked, and she always said no. She used to know why she declined, but the reasons had blended into routine over the years. Now, she just said “No, thanks, Dad. Maybe next time.” 

How long before he stopped asking?

Lawr picked up the photo again, and started chewing on his bottom lip. She could practically see the gears crunching in his head, scrambling for the right words. That wasn’t like him. Something was up — other than her nervous breakdown. The tightness in her chest loosened just a little bit, replaced by the slow burn of curiosity. She didn’t say anything, though. Sometimes it’s best to wait things out. She took a deliberate sip of coffee. 

“You know, Jess,” he said, pushing his hair behind his left ear. “It’s actually, ah, kind of the perfect time to have a family meeting.” 

If Jessie could have put that sentence on a kitchen scale, it would have maxed out.

The coffee caught in her throat, and her building curiosity shriveled up like a Melenque mummy. She knew what he was about to say, and she didn’t want to hear it.

“Oh. Got it.” 

She opened up her desk drawer, pretending to look for something extremely important. “Okay, yeah. Got it. Right.” She slammed it shut. Stared fixedly at absolutely nothing at all. “How long is he staying this time? Does he have an extra-long layover or something?” 

“Jess.” 

“Thanks for the bread, Lawr. Really. I’m going to turn it into the fattest, greasiest grilled cheese sandwich, and I’m gonna put pickles on it, too.” 

“Jessie, you know layovers aren’t really a thing for us.” Lawr raised his eyebrow. He was right. The Quests had more aircraft than they knew what to do with. 

“The new field exploration coordinator has finished his training. There aren’t any new assignments in the queue right now… so there’s nothing left for him to do out there.”

“You’re telling me he’s back? Like, actually back?” 

“Yeah, hon. Jonny’s coming home. For real this time.” 

Jessie waited a beat before violently ripping a hunk of bread off the loaf of sourdough. 

“Is it too late for that bloody mary?”

Chapter Text

He’d gone on his share of adventures in the past 10 years, hopping from one research facility to the next, training key staff in their roles so that each location could operate smoothly without too much oversight. Not nearly as many life-or-death situations as he used to run into, but there had been a few. 

Jonny Quest certainly hadn’t been deprived of excitement — plenty of opportunities to get the blood pumping — but he realized that, as the Quest Jet circled the compound at Rockport, Maine, his heart hadn’t pounded this loudly in almost a decade.

He’d come back for a few Christmases, swooping in for a gift exchange or family dinner, but staying in one place for too long wasn’t exactly his forte. 

He shook his head. That wasn’t true — staying in Rockport for too long wasn’t exactly his forte. 

There were a lot of reasons for that, the most recent one being his new stepfather. Truthfully, though, Benton and Lawrence had only been together for about five years; his excuses for the previous five weren’t so easy to pin down. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lawrence. In fact, Jonny had flown in to congratulate Mrs. Quincey — his dad’s assistant for decades — on her retirement, and had sat in on the interviews for her replacement. He had been the one to convince both Jessie and Benton that Lawrence was the right choice. 

So, no, he didn’t hate Lawrence. But Jonny hadn’t been ready for his dad to replace his mom with anyone , let alone a dude . It had been half a decade, and he’d done a lot of thinking, a lot of changing. Lawrence didn’t deserve the way Jonny had abruptly turned cold and aloof toward him, and Jonny owed him a very overdue apology. Reason number 9000 that he was nervous to come back. 

Jonny exhaled, slowly, and focused his gaze on the gallery of his dad’s lighthouse. It sat snugly on the edge of one of the cliffs overlooking the coast. He used to leave his curtains open at night, using the rotating lamp as a sort of meditation, something to focus his mind on as he went to sleep. The light wasn’t on at that moment, but focusing on it still brought him a sense of calm.

He’d gotten a little better at facing facts over the years. Not much better, but there had definitely been progress. And the fact of the matter this time was that he didn’t have an official assignment anymore — an official excuse . If he were to frolic on to something else, somewhere else, he would have had to admit all the reasons he was afraid to come back… a prospect that was more terrifying than just biting the bullet and coming home. 

It had been almost 20 years since the original compound had been destroyed by giant, walking robot spiders. He let out a quiet laugh. That one always got a good reaction out of his coworkers after a couple of pints. 

He had to admit that Jessie had really done an amazing job of directing the contractors as they rebuilt what had toppled and burned, but that was part of the problem — not everything should stay the same. He certainly wasn’t the same anymore, and coming home to an exact copy of your past was… unsettling. Change was necessary if you didn’t want to get left behind. 

He couldn’t think of anyone in his life who was more “left behind” than Jessie Bannon. 

His body swayed with the impact of the Quest Jet’s wheels on the private landing strip, and he shook himself from the funk he’d slipped into. 

“We’re here, boss. Get a load of that salty Maine air, eh?”

His pilot, Duke Wuornos, flashed him a good-natured grin. Jonny flashed one back. “It is nice, Duke. It’s been awhile.” 

“Sure has. I’ll help you with your stuff and then I’m gonna head into the kitchen and see what Ms. Evans has cookin.’” His left eyebrow raised deviously. 

Jonny laughed — a real one, straight from the gut. Somehow, he had forgotten about the sporadic romance between his pilot and Dr. Quest’s housekeeper, Tina Evans. Ms. Evans had replaced Mrs. Evans, her grandmother, who was happily retired somewhere in Florida. 

Shit , he thought. When was that, 2010? It had been one of Duke’s first flights as his pilot — Christmas, five years ago. All it took was for Duke and Tina to make eye contact once before they practically burst into flames. “Listen,” Jonny laughed, “I’m hungry, too, but I don’t think she’s cooking the same thing for me that she is for you.” 

Duke slid his aviators off and slipped them into the collar of his shirt. A toothpick sat comfortably in his teeth — like he’d been born with it — and his grin somehow managed to get even wider. “And let’s thank the good lord for that, buddy.” He headed to the back cabin to grab one of Jonny’s duffel bags, and tossed it out into the aisle. 

Jonny caught it, sighed, and stepped out into the cool, New England drizzle. 

***     ***     ***     ***

A family meeting might be in order, Jessie thought as she slipped her feet into the pair of shoes under her desk, but I’m sure as hell not quitting in front of everyone.  

Lawrence had promised not to say anything to Dr. Quest before she got the chance, and she knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later. The CEO of a multi-billion-dollar operation deciding to quit out of the blue? Not exactly a small ordeal. 

Of course, in her heart, it wasn’t out of the blue. In her heart, it had been years since she’d felt any excitement about work. About anything, really. And what was her excuse? 

Honestly, she had no idea. And that was the most embarrassing thing about all of it. 

She checked her makeup in the mirror next to her filing cabinet, pulled her hair behind her ears, and just barely managed to suppress a stress whimper before heading out into the hallway. 

The headquarters of Quest Labs was one of her favorite places in the world, even if she was no longer thrilled to be there. The decor was straight out of one of those time capsule homes you see in Buzzfeed articles — a pristine, mid-century-modern shrine to the atomic age. Sunburst clocks, spacey-looking chairs, and plenty of pumpkin and avocado green splashing the walls, carpet, and upholstery. Lawrence had gotten his hands on some photos of Dr. Quest’s father in the ‘60s, and insisted they “Recreate that aesthetic, at all costs!” 

Jessie looked down at the carpet and counted her steps like she always did, fitting her feet into the chartreuse boomerang shapes that dotted the long hallway to Dr. Quest’s office. She felt like vomiting all over her shoes. A theme seemed to be developing. 

That morning’s bloody mary wasn’t exactly helping. 

She knocked four times on the door, like always, then turned the doorknob. Dr. Quest’s deep, friendly voice boomed from behind the heavy wood. “Come in!” 

It suddenly felt like her vodka breakfast was square dancing with her lunch. His voice was much more jovial than normal. It was only Tuesday, and there was nothing exciting on the schedule. The only thing that would make him that happy was…

She opened the door to a grinning Benton Quest, leaning casually on the front of his desk, in the middle of a conversation with his son. 

Jonny’s blonde hair was… really long. At least, for him, anyway. It stopped just short of his shoulders, and when he turned around to see who was coming in the door, it framed his shocked face perfectly. She allowed herself a quick moment of satisfaction at catching him off-guard, which helped ease the sting of the fact that he had done the same to her. She only hoped she could hear their conversation over the pounding in her ears. His mouth opened slightly, closed, then opened again as he tried to figure out what to say. He looked like a shaggy, handsome fish. 

Thank god. 

“Jonny!” She did the thing where she pitched her voice higher than normal, and plastered a sparkling smile on her face. “What a surprise. Is there a conference in town or something? I’m sorry — I should have been paying closer attention to my calendar.” 

Jonny’s mouth snapped shut and settled into an almost imperceptible frown. Dr. Quest cocked an eyebrow at her. Damnit, she thought. Lawrence must have spilled a few of the beans to Benton after their liquid breakfast. Oh, well. I’ll deal with that later. 

Jonny pushed out of his chair and stood up. Jessie took a mental inventory. Jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that was too tight for his own good. And, of course , he ran his hand nervously through his thick mop of hair. 

Something about those extra golden locks made the gesture “hit different,” as her hip, young intern, Delilah, would say. (And then she’d make fun of Jessie for using the word “hip.”)

He took a step toward her. The air in the office started to feel thin, like it was getting sucked out by a vacuum. 

“Jess. Hi.” He attempted a warm smile, and she noticed that there were a few more crinkles near his eyes than the last time he’d smiled at her. That squeezed at her heart.

Dr. Quest shifted uncomfortably. Jessie knew he’d given up on figuring out their dynamic years ago. “How long has it been since you two last saw each other? Almost three years at this point, if I’m not mistaken?” 

That shook her out of her stubborn reverie. If things would have been normal, they would have enveloped one another in an immediate bear hug, tossing around a few endearing insults afterward. But things weren’t normal. And, because it was easier to push things under the rug than air them out in the sunshine, Jessie let out a laugh. “Just giving you hell, Jonny. You’re back — for real! Come, ah, come here… man!” 

Cringing at herself, she plopped her papers on an end table and closed the gap between her and Jonny, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers. In terror? Maybe. She had just awkwardly called him “man,” after all. Feeling slightly out-of-body, she threw her arms around his neck in a welcome-back hug that felt familiar, and comforting, and nauseating, all at the same time. 

He stood frozen in the hug for a split second then, remembering they had an audience, brought his own arms up and around her. He laid one hand on her back, and the other at the base of her neck, his fingers getting lost in her hair. 

She hated herself for fixating on that. For noticing that he smelled exactly the way romance novelists say men smell: of soap, and pine, and just a hint of seawater. He must have headed straight for the ocean when he got home. 

Jessie gave him a finalizing squeeze and let go. “Well, it’s great to see you, wow, it’s been such a long time, boy, your hair got long, eh?” She cringed at herself . Again. A lot of cringing. 

Her resignation would have to wait.

“Dr. Quest — Benton, I, ah, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving early to help Lawr with dinner. Everything’s taken care of, and I gave those reports to Delilah. Gotta run, see you both tonight!” 

She scrambled to gather up her papers and practically sprinted out the door. As she turned into the hallway, she could hear Jonny behind her, whispering to his dad. 

“Is the long hair that bad?” 

She rolled her eyes, counted her steps, and got the hell out of Dodge.

Chapter Text

Dr. Benton Quest was no fool, and his son knew that better than anyone. After Jessie fled from the office like she was being chased by rabid dogs, Jonny knew he’d have some explaining to do. 

That was fine. He could handle that, once he figured out how to breathe again. Holy hell, he thought. He felt like someone had opened his skull, dumped a packet of pop rocks in, added a can of Coke, and closed it back up. 

She looked good, she smelled good, she felt good. 

And she had just breezed in and out of the room like nothing was new — like the whole entire world wasn’t spinning in circles around them. Anyone who hadn’t known her for 30 years would think she was simply in a hurry, but he knew better. 

He had felt her heart hammering against his chest.

He felt her body give for a split second, leaning into him when he finally had the presence of mind to place his hand on her back. She felt… softer. The last time he’d held her, she was so thin. He’d been worried. 

And he certainly hadn’t meant to touch her hair, but instinct had kicked in. Sometimes, in his dreams, his hands were tangled hopelessly in it.

He was so stupid — thinking he could sneak in and out of his dad’s office without running into her. When was she ever not at work? 

Dr. Quest gave Jonny’s shoulder a squeeze and moved past him toward the display case nestled into the northeast corner of his office. Egyptian artifacts, Viking relics, and various other souvenirs from the phenomenologist’s past adventures lined the shelves. He reached up and gingerly pulled an obsidian obelisk from the top shelf. It was pitch black, shiny as hell, and fairly awe-inspiring. Jonny was surprised he’d never noticed it before. 

“You know, Son, there are a lot of things we haven’t talked about.”

Jonny groaned. Benton chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, I know you just got home. Nobody should be expected to have deep conversations when they’re jet-lagged. But I did want to show you this. It’s important to me.” He handed it to Jonny, who received it cautiously. 

“I’ve never seen it before. I mean, I guess I must have, but I never paid it much attention.” 

“I know. It’s not something I like to call attention to. Your mother gave it to me, so very long ago. I don’t even remember what year it was — it feels like I’ve always had it.” 

The words your mother fused all the vertebrae in Jonny’s spine together. The topic he both yearned for and dreaded most.

“I kept it for the obvious reasons. But the real purpose it serves is to remind me that nothing is too big to keep you from the most important people in your life.” 

Jonny’s throat tightened as he turned the obelisk over in his hands. Somewhere, at some time in the past, Rachel Quest had found this incredible artifact and given it to the man she loved. Her slender hands — one of the things he remembered most vividly about his mom — had once cradled it in reverence, probably after excavating it from an ancient dig site somewhere on another continent. He lifted it up to the light to get a better look at it, and gasped as a thin crack appeared about two inches from the base, right before the entire bottom section fell off and dropped toward the floor.  

Luckily, Benton had been ready. He caught the piece deftly and let out a deep, delighted laugh at the look of horror on his son’s face. 

“Dad, I’m so sorry!” Sick to his stomach and baffled by his dad’s laughter, Jonny figured this must have been the last straw; he’d finally made Benton Quest snap. 

“Son, hand me the obelisk. Really, that was terrible of me, I am sorry.” Dr. Quest laughed again. “The look on your face, though, my goodness, that was priceless!” He set the piece on his desk and gripped the remaining portion of the artifact tightly. Another chunk came off in his hands. 

Jonny realized in disbelief that the two pieces of obelisk looked like small teacups without handles. And the remaining piece of the sculpture had a screw-top cap protruding from the bottom of it. He looked up at his dad with his mouth hanging open. “Dad. What gives?”

“Your mom gave this to me in the middle of a long, dreary, thankless dig in Scotland. We were looking for a very specific type of Celtic artifact that would serve as one of the key pieces of evidence in my research.” He set the two cups on his desk and made his way over to the mini refrigerator in the corner. “We’d been there for weeks and had found plenty of interesting things, but not the right things. She’d bought this somewhere along the way, covered it in the dark Scottish mud, and ran over to where I was digging, shouting that she’d found something incredible.” 

He chuckled and cracked open a sparkling water, pouring it evenly into the shiny black cups. Lawr could level a bloody mary with the best of them, but Benton hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in almost 10 years. 

“I’ll never forget how I felt in that moment — the obelisk looked nothing like any of the artifacts we’d found, and was certainly not reminiscent of Celtic design, nor Norse, nor anything that should have been near the area.” He handed a cup to Jonny, and clinked it with his own before taking a sip. “My heart was pounding, and her face was so serious. I ran through all of the possibilities I could think of as an explanation for it, but before I could say anything, she burst into laughter.” Benton’s mirthful smile changed to something a little more haunted, just barely coming up at the corners. “I hope you’re able to remember her laugh, Jonny. It really was something special.” 

Jonny’s shoulders finally loosened at this, and he moved closer to his dad, leaning on the desk next to him. They both stared at the closed door in front of them, the room simultaneously full of silence and Rachel Quest’s deep, boisterous laugh.

“She told me that I’d become distant and ‘damn-near catatonic’ in those past few weeks —  those were her words, not mine — and that she was willing to do just about anything to see some kind of new emotion on my face, even if it was anger. So she’d bought the obelisk in a mystic souvenir shop a few days prior. She said, ‘Benton, no matter what we find or don’t find from the past, remember: I’m here in your present.’ She told me not to let something like a dusty old tablet get in the way of being happy.”

Jonny took a hurried sip of his sparkling water, diluting the tears that had made their way silently down to his lips. This, right here, was one of the main reasons he came back. To finally, actually talk to his dad. 

They had a good, solid relationship. Affectionate, comfortable, and honest. Open, though? Not quite, not totally. The older Jonny got, the more relationships he abruptly ended. And sometimes, when his chest tightened at the thought of having a family, the more he wanted to know about his mom — specifically how she and his dad actually made it work. How their marriage had been a sweet, nourishing thing rather than something that made them both feel hollow and regretful. And that, to his eternal frustration, was what his father avoided talking about the most. 

“Dad, that’s… wow.” 

Benton raised a dark eyebrow and smirked. “Too cool for school? I know.” 

Jonny rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dad,” he shoved an elbow into his father’s arm. “I haven’t said that in years!” Dr. Quest simply chuckled contentedly into his drink.

Jonny could have pressed him, then. Could have begged him for more, but that was uncharted territory. This five-minute obelisk story was practically a Shakespearean soliloquy on the topic. Besides, he knew his mother wasn’t really the point. He could take a hint.

“Listen, Dad, yeah. Things are weird.” 

Benton feigned a look of shock. “You don’t say?”

“When did you turn into such a comedian, huh?” 

Dr. Quest smiled, but didn’t say anything. The answer to the question hung in the air: Lawrence . His dad had fallen in love again, and it had clearly brought a lightness to his life. And  Jonny hadn’t been around to see any of it — hadn’t wanted to. 

Jonny sighed. “A lot of things are weird. I know I’ve got to fix ‘em… and I will. I’ll do my best to, anyway. But it’d be nice if I could maybe eat some dinner and score a full night’s sleep first.” 

“Of course, son.”

He took another drink. Alright, he thought. That was more than enough heavy lifting for his first 30 minutes home.

He was jet-lagged after all.

Chapter Text

“Tina, seriously, go relax. You’re here for dinner , you’re not working.” Jessie playfully smacked Tina Evans’ hand as she reached for a tray of cheese and crackers. “Besides, how often do you get the chance to sit that dangerously close to a walking, talking Adonis like Duke?”

Tina’s bronze cheeks went rosy. She leaned in close to Jessie, keeping an eye on the kitchen door. “I seriously can’t believe myself. Every single time he shows up here, I feel like… like I’m full of fireworks or something. I literally can’t think about anything else.”

Despite the fact that Jessie’s palms had been sweating steadily since she woke up — she had almost chopped two of her fingers off prepping for dinner — she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. This was the only part of Jonny’s returns that she actually looked forward to. 

Okay, so maybe not the only thing. She had to admit it felt good to have her eyes on him again. That damned long blonde hair was a nice change. Ugh. She forced her mind back to the relationship at hand — the one that actually existed.

Jessie had been chuckling, but Tina definitely wasn’t. Her oval face and dark eyes were solemn and narrowed. 

“Jessie, I’m serious. I just keep asking myself, ‘Tina, what if you weren’t single? What would you do if he came back and you were already with somebody?’”

That made the hairs on Jessie’s neck prick up. She definitely didn’t have good advice on this topic. She snuck a green olive from the little dish on the cheese tray and popped it in her mouth. 

She’d learned over the years to ask questions rather than give out advice, so she nudged her friend along. “Well? What would you do?”

Tina’s lips pressed together in a thin line before whispering, “I don’t think I can say it out loud.” 

That caught Jessie off-guard, and she choked on a chunk of olive. Tina Evans was one of the sweetest, most honest people she knew. “Uh, whoah. That’s — wow.” 

“Ugghh I know it is Jessie! ” Dr. Quest’s flustered, off-duty housekeeper grabbed the cheese tray off the counter despite Jessie’s protests, and huffed into the living room.

Jessie wiped her hands on a tea towel and smiled, just a little. It wasn’t that she enjoyed Tina’s turmoil, per se, but it was nice to know she wasn’t alone in feeling completely inept at relationships. 

She looked around the Quests' kitchen with satisfaction. Lawrence had insisted that charcuterie would be the least stressful way to throw together an impromptu family dinner, and he was right. She had enjoyed arranging the meats, various cheeses, and crackers on the Quests’ vintage pyrex dishes — it was methodical and soothing, with just a dash of creativity tossed in. Creativity within boundaries; Jessie could relate to that. 

She heard the front door open and close. No knock. She could do the math. 

When she last looked in the living room, she’d noted that everyone was present for the family get-together, minus two: Jonny and Hadji. The reunited brothers had left for a hike by the time Jessie had returned from the grocery store, and she’d managed to successfully avoid seeing Jonny for a few more hours. 

Which meant that she had also avoided getting invited to join them, and that hurt. She and Hadji typically hiked through the woods or walked along the beach at least once a week. And before that — a hundred thousand years ago — the three of them would always go out together, pretending they were normal kids for a few hours.

She sighed. She knew she couldn’t run away from him and reminisce with him simultaneously. Jessie picked up a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plates. 

Time to quit her job.

*** **** **** **** 

The atmosphere in the den almost knocked her flat. 

There were rarely ever more than three people in the cozy hearth room, but that night it sounded like there were thirty voices bouncing off the walls, and Jessie couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest. Her father, Race, was lounging in his favorite chair by the fireplace across from Benton and Lawrence on the sofa. His eyes lit up when she walked into the room, and he stood up quickly. She was struck with the realization that she hadn’t even talked to him on the phone since he’d returned from the Amazon last week, and did her best to push down the bubbling feelings of guilt. He took the stack of plates from her and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Hey, Ponchita.” His gravelly hint of a Southern accent warmed her down to her bones. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too, Dad.” She gave him a peck on the cheek in return, and set the pitcher of lemonade down on the coffee table, next to the platter Tina had brought out. As for Ms. Evans, Jessie noticed with curved lips that her friend was beet red, sitting on a long, turquoise ottoman next to Jonny’s debonair pilot, whose hand was leisurely trailing up her spine. It really did look like Tina might explode. 

Good for her. 

Hadji sat on the end of Benton and Lawrence’s sofa, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a pastel-striped tank top that looked like it came straight out of 1992. Hearing Hadji call it a “bro tank” when he first bought it had been the highlight of her week. He was grinning, sweaty, and looked happy as a clam. No sign of Jonny, but she could hear someone moving around upstairs. 

Jessie knew it was one of those moments where she had to take rapid-fire stock of the situation and focus on the positives. She couldn’t remember the last time they were all together, and the addition of Tina and Duke made the atmosphere even more jolly. She took a slow, deep breath. She was going to have to make a dramatic announcement in front of a lot of people, but that would mean she’d soon be able to lift the 50-ton anchor off her chest and finally be able to breathe again. 

She’d have to do it all in front of Jonny, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that.

The loveseat that was pressed up against the stairwell was open, and near her dad, so she poured a glass of lemonade and got comfortable. Race leaned in so she could hear his lowered voice.

“What’s new, kiddo? You’re strung up like a six-string.”

Jessie sighed. When it came to women in general, Race Bannon was confident and oblivious. When it came to his daughter, however, it was like he had x-ray vision. It was annoying and comforting all at the same time.

“I am, Dad. It’ll be better soon.”

“Is it… that guy?” He pointed upstairs.

“No. I mean, it’s whatever, maybe part of it, but not the big thing.” 

Race leaned back dramatically in relief. “Whew. That’s good. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull off being his bodyguard and kicking his ass all at the same time.”

Jessie laughed. “If anybody could figure out that conundrum, it’s you.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Thanks, Dad. Sorry I haven’t called you since you got back. How’s… how’s Jade?” 

It was like chewing a piece of chalk to ask.

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you know her. She’s Jade.” 

“She still running that spa?”

“Yep, sure is.” 

“That’s, what, six months in the same place? Wow.”

“Ponchita.” He raised a fatherly eyebrow at her. 

Technically, Jessie and her dad’s girlfriend had buried the hatchet years ago, but it didn’t mean Jessie wanted to make her a friendship bracelet or buy her a Mother’s Day card. Plus, girlfriend was giving the relationship too much credit. She could put up with it, but she’d never understand it.

“I’m only partially giving you hell, Dad. I hope she can make a good go of it.”

“You and me both, Jessie.” 

They were interrupted by fast footsteps on the stairs. Race’s eyes darted around the room, and to Jessie’s ultimate dismay, she realized he was scanning the open seating, which was scarce. 

Only-one-seat-open-scarce, to be exact. Right next to her. On a frigging loveseat.

Jonny skipped the last three stairs and hit the landing noisily. Jessie’s palms started sweating again. He had clearly taken a quick shower after the hike, and his long hair looked haphazardly towel dried. He was wearing one of his favorite shirts; an old long-sleeved marathon T-shirt from 1987 that Race had loaned him in high school. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t fallen apart yet. It wasn’t quite threadbare , but it was a 30-year-old shirt — thin and worn-in and clinging to the parts of his chest that hadn’t gotten properly dried. 

Oh god. Was this how she died? Was Jonny going to sit down next to her, partially dripping, flash her an awkward grin, and just send her floating out of her own body? 

It would be an easy way to resign from her job, she supposed.

Race chuckled. “Well, hell, Jonny! I was about to say it’s good to see you, but then I remembered you never gave me that shirt back.” He rose and stuck his hand out. Jonny laughed and returned the handshake, then threw his arms around the enormous ex-government agent, lifting him an inch off the ground. 

That was new. Jessie took a hurried sip of lemonade. 

“Aw, Race!” Jonny’s big, elated smile spread across his face. “Man, it is so good to see you!” He ran that hand through that hair. “Shit,” he dramatically touched his hands to his chest. “You want the shirt back right now?”

Oh my god. Jessie downed the rest of her glass. 

Race ruffled the long, wet, blonde hair with one hand and wiped it dry on the stolen shirt. “Nah, kid. I’m officially bequeathing it to you… and nursing my ego. Since when can you pick my ass up?”

Jonny shrugged. “Not a lot to do in that part of Russia but work, drink vodka, and do pull-ups.”

“Well, who'd've thought?” Race sat back down in his chair and slapped his knees. “What do y’all say we get this party started? I’m ready to crack open the champagne and catch up.” His blue eyes locked on Jessie’s, and she could have sworn they twinkled at her. “There’s an open spot next to Jess over there, Jonny.” 

Payback. He was feeling salty about her radio silence last week.

Ever confident, always cool as a cucumber, Jonny took it in stride and plopped next to her on the loveseat. Loveseat . Ugh. She tried to match his demeanor — comfortable and pleased to be here — but was pretty sure she looked as stiff as a two-by-four. Dr. Quest cleared his throat. 

“Thank you, everyone, for being here.” He leaned forward on the sofa and clasped his hands. “It’s just been so long since we’ve all been together, I didn’t want to miss the chance to gather my family in this room again.” His voice was warm, but tight with emotion. Lawrence gave his knee a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

Okay. Here we go. The sugar from Jessie’s lemonade was cloying in the back of her throat. What was she supposed to focus on here? Ruining Benton’s nostalgia party by abandoning him at Quest Labs? The who-knows-how-many pounds of surprise muscle sitting next to her? This was too much. 

She shouldn’t have delighted so much in Tina’s drama. Karma.

Lawrence was talking now, guiding everyone through all the meats, cheeses, and pickles spread out on the coffee table. Everyone knew how much he loved the ceremony of hosting a dinner party, and were all listening intently. Jessie tried to look attentive, but every single one of her senses were being hijacked by the realization that Jonny was leaning in close to her. The scent of the upstairs guest shampoo filled her nose — it was something Lawrence imported from London that smelled like Earl Grey tea.

In hindsight, she probably couldn’t actually feel his lips hovering near her ear, but she could have sworn she felt their vibrational signatures, just a few inches from her neck, before he whispered, “I can move if you want, Jess. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Later, when she dissected the moment into a million pieces, she would feel a flash of satisfaction and pride. His hair, the new crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the tight shirt, the way he smelled — it had all plumed into her brain and filled it with a heady fog, masking the things she’d never forgiven him for. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. She scoffed quietly, and angled her face toward him as discreetly as she could. 

“Since when have you ever given a shit about what makes me comfortable ?” She hissed the words at him, quiet and sizzling like spilled acid. 

His body stiffened, and his eyes went wide. Shock, hurt feelings, maybe some anger. He tried to nonchalantly lean into the arm of the loveseat, doing his best to put distance between the two of them. 

Sorry, Jonathan Benton Quest. You don’t get to stumble lightheartedly into forgiveness.

That did it; temporarily broke the spell of prolonged ennui that had become her status quo. She could coast through everything — pretend like Jonny hadn’t chewed her up and spit her out, pretend like running Quest Labs was enough to make her happy — and then wake up years later in the same stagnant pool of bitterness and regret. She’d have to be uncomfortable no matter what. Hell, she was already uncomfortable. This was just a slightly different flavor. 

“Lawrence, I’m so sorry to interrupt.” She stood up. Why not? She was making a big announcement anyway, and it put even more space between her and the scent of bergamot and black tea.

Lawrence gave her an encouraging smile. “Of course, hon. I’m sure people can figure out the difference between garlic goat cheese and raspberry brie without me.” He leaned back and laced his fingers in with Benton’s. “Go ahead, Jessie.” 

“Ah, okay. So.” She anxiously tried to jam her hands into her pockets, but the skinny jeans she had picked out that day only had the damned fake ones in front. Ugh. She could feel Jonny’s eyes burning into her back, but didn’t dare turn around, for fear that she’d publicly strangle him. “I, ah, Dr. Quest — Benton. I tried to tell you this earlier, alone, but I… well, it just didn’t work out.” 

Oh, god, don’t whimper, Bannon. Just this once. 

“Jessie.” Benton’s voice was kind, which made her feel even worse. “What’s bothering you? Would you like to join me on the patio? You certainly don’t need to hold court.”

“No.” She was suddenly quite sure. “You guys are my family, regardless of… well, you’re my family, and I want to tell you all, together.” Deep breath . “I’m resigning from my position of CEO at Quest Labs.”

Normally, she’d continue talking. Ramble on and on until she felt like she’d sufficiently covered her tracks somehow. But not this time. She was learning to let things sit.

Lawrence sent her a glorious smile. If she weren’t flooded with so much adrenaline she’d like to think she would have smiled back. 

There were a few shocked faces staring back at Jessie. Tina’s jaw had dropped, and Duke was surprised enough that he’d stopped twirling her hair around his finger. Who knew what Jonny’s face looked like — Jessie had deliberately kept her back to him.

Her father looked surprised, but pleased. She’d have to unpack that later. 

The faces that didn’t look surprised — those were the ones that made her want to dissolve into a big blob of tears. Dr. Quest’s eyes were shining, but he didn’t look angry or upset. Hadji looked calm, but his face was creased with concern. She’d known him long enough to be sure that his concern was for her , not Quest Labs. 

Dr. Quest stood up and crossed to her, taking her hands in his. “Jessie.” He squeezed her pale fingers gently. “I may have started Quest Labs, but you’re the one who has brought it to soaring success. It’s a finely-tuned machine, and once we find a good replacement for you, I’m confident the transition will be seamless. I’m not worried in the slightest, and that’s due to your efficiency and talent.” He pressed his lips in a thin line for a moment. “Jessie, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me this?”

“I — what?”

“You’ve been like a ghost. Floating from room to room, doing the same thing day in and day out. Smiling the whole time, of course, but I know you well. I can tell when you’re unhappy.”

“I…” Jessie was floundering. She’d had all of her explanations queued up, all of her reasons neatly laid out with evidence and footnotes. She hadn’t been prepared for blind acceptance. “I mean, you could have… shared that observation with me at some point, right?”

Race laughed from his chair. “Take it from me, Ponchita. You’re not exactly open to other peoples’ advice.”

Benton laughed, too. “I knew, eventually, you’d come to the decision yourself. And I had a plan in place if you ended up turning 40 without doing so.”

“Were you — were you going to fire me ?” 

“Quest Labs offers a fantastic severance package.” He smiled, and gathered her up in a huge hug. She wanted to cry, but since she’d reached her annual quota for public emotion in the span of a day , she opted to rest her head on his chest and close her eyes instead. 

“Thank you, Benton.”

“Of course, Jessie.” He eased up on the hug and took her by the shoulders, so that she could see his face. “I only want what’s best for you. And I mean you . I want you to be happy.” 

She nodded. She felt like she was 14 years old all over again. “Okay.” 

The phone rang in the kitchen. Lawrence excused himself to answer it, but not before leaving a loud, dramatic kiss on Jessie’s cheek on his way out. 

She turned back to her spot on the loveseat and sat quickly, careful not to make eye contact with Jonny. From what she could tell in her peripheral vision, he was still leaning into the arm of the small sofa, chewing on his thumbnail. 

Jessie shot a nervous look at her dad, who was grinning so goofily she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Wow, Dad. Tell me how you really feel!”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

“And if you want to know the God’s honest, I’d love to just sit back, soak it all in, and enjoy the night without talking about our feelings.”

“You're the best dad a girl could ask for, Roger.”

He winked. “Don’t you forget it. And don’t call me Roger. How many times does a guy have to ask?”

Lawrence slipped back into the den and whispered in Dr. Quest’s ear. Jessie could tell she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Jonny sat forward in the loveseat, forgoing the space between them in order to get a better view of his father. The landline ringing in the evening wasn’t necessarily anything dramatic, but it was different , and the cloud that fell over Benton’s face certainly turned up the intrigue. 

Jonny’s leg was now pressed up against hers, and he watched with interest as his dad left the room. He didn’t turn to look at her, but he did murmur in her direction. “That’s weird, right?” 

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Jessie, can we please talk? Maybe out on the cliffs? It’s nice out; the rain stopped hours ago, and the moon’s full so we won’t need flashlights.”

She sighed right back. Didn’t respond. Dr. Quest had raised his voice, and though she could hear him talking quickly, she couldn’t understand what he was saying. 

“Please. I just want to talk. I’ll keep a hoverboard’s length between us.” He deliberately scooched back to his side of the loveseat.

She had just enough time to whisper, “Fine,” before Benton re-entered the den. 

“Well,” his voice was low and exasperated, but his eyebrow was raised in amusement. “Anyone interested in investigating an allegedly haunted mansion in Nova Scotia?”

Jonny shot up off the loveseat, fist pumping to the sky. “Slammin’!”

Jessie closed her eyes and placed her fingers on her temples. She felt a massive headache coming on. 

Chapter Text

Jonny’s nerve endings were positively singing.  

His heart was pounding, and it felt like someone had hooked him up to a battery — he could feel an electric prickling from the back of his neck all the way down to his fingertips. 

The last few months, as he’d agonized over moving back to Maine and what it would mean for him, all he’d thought about were the apologies. Long talks with his dad that would leave him tearful and comatose in his bedroom. Facing Jessie. Probably a lot of groveling. Things he very much did not want to do. 

But he’d forgotten about this kind of possibility. Benton Quest may have been getting older, but he was still healthy, sharp as a tack, and eternally curious. If there was something new to learn or monumental to discover, you could bet your ass a Quest-owned aircraft would be delivering Race and his father straight to the epicenter. Benton had needed Jonny’s help in the Ukranian woods a few months prior, and the buzz he’d scored off that trip had long-since fizzled out. 

Besides, Nova Scotia was so close to home — full of the promise of breathtaking scenery and all the lobster he could eat — but he’d never actually made it there. He, Hadji, and Jessie had tried to visit back in the ‘90s, but had gotten sidetracked by— 

Oh. 

They’d gotten sidetracked alright. Sidetracked by a mysterious island inhabited by the ghosts of two angry lovers, hell-bent on revenge. That was the first time Jonny’s lips had found Jessie’s — when they were possessed by two dead people forgiving each other after a century of vengeful haunting.

Not exactly the beginning of a romantic comedy.

He couldn’t deny that it had changed the tone of their friendship from then on out. Before that trip, he’d always felt something there, hovering between them, but, come on, he was 14, and she was 15. Their fathers were busy adventurers who took them halfway across the world a few times a month — romance hadn’t been the highest thing on Jonny’s radar. 

The next time he had kissed her, however, was a completely different story. The thought of it only managed to increase the voltage coursing through his body. 

He wasn’t proud of it, but even Jessie’s scathing response on the loveseat had him hyped. It was the first time she’d shown him anything other than aloof tolerance in years.

That’s the wrong kind of thing to get excited about, Quest.  

Jonny had been working on this — he took some slow, deep breaths in through his nose, releasing them quietly out of his mouth. He allowed himself a glance at Jessie; she was rubbing her temples, and her shoulders were sagging. He’d learned over the past few years to look around himself when he got this way. Nine times out of ten, he’d found that the things he got excited about were causing someone else a lot of stress. 

After a few more breaths, his heart rate dropped a few beats per minute, and he was able to focus. His dad had been talking, and he’d clearly missed some of it — damnit.  

“How long has she had possession of this property? Did she purchase it?” Hadji’s questions carved through the static in his head like an exacto knife, and Jonny tried to zero in, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to ask Dr. Quest to repeat himself. Hadji had set his plate of food down and was leaning eagerly into the conversation. If his brother was this interested in something, he knew it was going to be good.

His dad sighed heavily. “She can’t purchase it — it’s a historical site that’s been kept in the original owner’s family for years. Angelica was able to secure the property for her research for a year, and that year is up at the end of the month. I suspect that’s why she’s asking for my help again — she’s getting desperate.”

Hadji’s coffee-colored eyes were sparkling with curiosity. Jonny’s chest tightened; he really had missed his brother, and he’d allowed so many excuses to come between them over the past three years. Sure, they checked in with each other every week on the phone, but he should have come home more, and for longer. 

When Dr. Quest had adopted Hadji, Jonny had been 10 years old. He’d had no idea how much his life would change for the better, simply by having Hadji in it. He was calm, empathetic, and smart as hell, sure, but there was a mischievous streak in him, and damnit , they had fun together . They were inseparable until a few years ago, when Jonny set off abroad. Around the same time, Hadji had met Jenna — one of the most skilled scientists at Quest Labs — and set off on an adventure of his own.

Hadji took a thoughtful sip of lemonade. “What has changed your mind, Dr. Quest? I remember you being quite angry with her, the last time the two of you spoke.” 

“I still disagree with her efforts, but I’ve become concerned, Hadji. It’s one thing to explore the paranormal — obviously I can’t take issue with that. But manipulating active spirits in order to fulfill personal wishes is a different topic entirely. It’s a disturbing ethical gray area on multiple levels, and it’s dangerous.”

Lawrence leaned over Benton to refill his glass. “And let me tell you, she did not sound good.”

“No,” Dr. Quest agreed. “She sounded ragged, tearful, and, quite frankly, slightly maniacal.” 

Jessie gave her forehead one last squeeze and sat up straight, running her hands through her long, fiery hair. Jonny watched it settle on her shoulders and fall down her long, muscular back. He swallowed. It had probably grown out a foot in the last three years.

“I vaguely remember being too busy to pay much attention to this. Angelica Olssen, worked with some paranormal investigators on equipment modification, right?” 

“That’s right, Jessie. She’s been obsessed with a fairly old haunting theory, banking on Einstein’s assertion that energy can never be fully destroyed. It’s a common attempt at explanation among mainstream ghost hunters, and I was surprised to see that she had taken such an acute interest in it.” Dr. Quest sat back on the plush sofa with a tired sigh. “Ever since her husband, Sam, died, she’s worked on nothing else. This is what makes me most uncomfortable.” 

Realization dawned on Jonny. “Wait, Angie? Sam? Sam Olssen died?” 

Benton’s eyes widened in surprise, then clouded over quickly. “He did. A lab accident. I’m so sorry, son, I thought I’d told you.” 

“Damn.” Jonny leaned back again, put a hand on his chest to try to dull the new ache. “Damn, that’s a huge bummer.” Dr. Quest’s college roommate had been somewhat of a staple in Jonny’s life, bringing him and Hadji souvenirs from his travels whenever he stopped by the compound. He exhaled loudly, and added it to the list of things he’d missed while he was gone. 

His dad continued to look more uncomfortable and tired, and, Jonny thought with a hint of distress, older. Exercise and a healthy diet can’t stop time. 

“I’m confused, I suppose,” Benton added. “The last time I’d heard from Angelica, her work had stalled. She claimed she had managed to detect a new type of energy — she called the phenomenon ‘Elysium Waves’ — lurking beneath the electromagnetic field the paranormal investigators found with their usual gadgets. It was her goal to pull that energy through to our side.”

Unease creeped into Jonny’s stomach; he could sense where this was headed. “Wait, pull it through ? To our side?” He and his dad locked eyes. “She’s trying to bring Sam back.” 

“Yes. And we all know how I feel about those kinds of efforts.” 

Silence settled over the room. But only briefly. “Actually, my love, we don’t all know that.” Lawrence placed his hand gently over Dr. Quest’s, giving him a meaningful look before turning back to everyone. “Tina, Duke? This is probably confusing.” He stood up and started collecting empty plates from the coffee table. “There was a period of time when Benton was rather obsessed with using time travel in order to see his wife, Rachel, again. She passed away in the early ‘90s.”

A hot surge of emotion rushed through Jonny’s veins. He’d flown home sheepishly, full of embarrassment about his relationship — or lack thereof — with Lawrence, and had been fully prepared to approach him with humility and remorse. But he hadn’t planned on hearing his mother’s name fly so casually out of his stepfather’s mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That’s a pretty flippant way to put it, if you ask me.” 

A new silence. The acid in his voice had jarred everyone, himself most of all. He immediately regretted it. His dad’s lips were pressed in a thin line. Jessie’s back had gone rigid, and when she turned to Jonny, the look in her eyes was pure fire. That was unexpected. He had also expected Lawrence to react differently; to either be offended or angry, but that wasn’t the case. 

“Jonny.” Lawrence placed the used plates on a tray and stood up straight, meeting his stepson’s angry blue glare. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forget that you’re not quite used to our dynamic here.” 

Jonny flinched. Ouch.  

“I’ll try to be mindful of that. This can’t be easy for you, moving back into your old home when so many other things have changed. But I think it’s important for you to understand that I’m someone who talks about things that are uncomfortable, so that they don’t continue to be so dramatically uncomfortable for the rest of our lives.” He finished loading the tray and picked it up. “Baggage only stays baggage if you don’t unpack it.” 

Lawrence took the tray of dishes into the kitchen. The room stayed quiet until the sounds of plates clinking in the sink told them all that he wasn’t coming back into the den anytime soon. Jonny was pretty sure he heard Jessie mutter something about him being an “idiot,” but he was too embarrassed to engage her. 

Hadji cleared his throat. “So, Ms. Olssen has requested your help? In what capacity does she think you can help her, and — a better question yet — in what capacity are you willing to assist?” 

“She wants us to bring one of the portable Questworld systems to Port Morien, where she’s set up camp in this old mansion. She claims to be able to channel this new energy through a host and into the system where it can be better-analyzed. I’m willing to travel there, to ensure that she is safe, healthy, and not of danger to others, but I’m certainly not willing to give her access to Questworld.”

Duke lazily crossed his leg over his knee, absentmindedly twirling a lock of Tina’s hair in his fingers. “I’ve gotta say I’m with you there, Doc. Sounds like that’s just asking for trouble.”

“Indeed, Duke.” 

The mention of his father’s virtual reality system was exciting enough to dilute Jonny’s shame to something a little closer to raw embarrassment. After all of this excessively real life, the thought of plugging his brain and body into Dr. Quest’s supercomputer sounded like the perfect vacation. The system had undergone mind-boggling upgrades since he, Jessie, and Hadji had run amok in it in the ‘90s, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on a headset. Before he ran away from the world, though, he had to talk to Jessie, and he was ready to get it over with, before he chickened out. He slapped his hands on his thighs. 

“So, what’s our plan? Who all’s coming along for the ride?” 

Hadji, visibly giddy, grinned and hopped to his feet. “ I most certainly am, my friend!” He crossed the room and swept Jonny up in his third bear hug of the day. “I realize I have said this many times today, but I am so pleased to have you home.” 

Jonny laughed. What a rollercoaster. “Yeah, Hadj.” He hugged him back. “Yeah, me, too.” The two men turned to their father, who couldn’t help but beam at them, despite all the drama.

“That is entirely up to anyone here. While I must admit that the idea of having the team back together on an adventure is very appealing, we would do well to remember that it could be quite dangerous.” He shot a familiar look of warning at Jonny, who smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to feel pressured.” 

Everyone in the room did their best to not look at Jessie, who looked like she was ready to take a hundred-year nap. Luckily, Tina was there to cut the awkwardness short. 

“You know I love you all very much, but there is absolutely no way I am going on this trip with you. I’m up for a fair amount of excitement, but I’ve got to draw the line at ghosts.” She dislodged Duke’s fingers from her hair and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure you’ll manage without me.” She got up from the couch, smoothed down her green, knee-length skirt, and winked at him before heading into the kitchen to help Lawrence.

Duke stared after her open-mouthed; it might have been the first time Jonny had seen him truly rattled. His pilot turned back to the group.

“I — I mean, you brave, competent people all know how to pilot your own aircraft, right?” He fiddled with the sunglasses still hanging from his open collar. “You just keep me around so Jonny can nap on the ride home, anyway.”

Jonny shrugged. “What can I say? I need my beauty sleep.”

Duke opened his mouth for more banter, but was interrupted by a quiet throat clearing from the loveseat. 

“Um, can I make a request?” 

Everyone in the room turned to Jessie. She was still sitting, but she didn’t look angry or frustrated anymore — she looked nervous. Race leaned over and squeezed her shoulder.

“What’s up, Ponchita?”

She swallowed. “Can we take the Questor? Instead of the Dragonfly? It’s, ah, it’s been a few years since I’ve hurtled through the sky, trapped in a giant tuna can.” Jessie tried for a smile, but mostly looked nauseous. “Floating on top of the water in a giant Catamaran with multiple lifeboat options sounds a little more my style right now.”

Race’s eyes widened. “Jessie, I didn’t realize —” 

“It’s fine, Dad. I really want to go. I just… can’t convince myself to get on a jet right now. Haven’t been able to for a while.” She met his eyes. “I know I should have said something a long time ago, but, shit. It’s embarrassing, you know? It was easier to say I was too — too busy.”

The quiet simmering of guilt in Jonny’s gut reached a full-on boil. How many times had he rolled his eyes at Jessie from thousands of miles away, scoffing at how she’d turned into some kind of corporate shell? A domestic cop-out? 

Before his brain could catch up, the words were tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Absolutely, Jess, that’s an awesome idea. For sure. ” He fumbled with the lemonade pitcher, trying to refill his glass before realizing it was empty. His mouth tasted like metal. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on the Questor, and I could definitely go for some choppy Atlantic waves — I’ve had my feet on solid, frozen ground for way too long.”

She sent him a look that could maybe have resembled gratitude. At the very least, it wasn’t a brain-melting glare, so he decided to call it a win. 

Dr. Quest’s face broke into a grin. “I shouldn’t be so happy; I’ve been quietly worried about Angelica for a long time, and I miss my friend dearly, but this is something I wasn’t sure I’d see again. At least not while I’m… spry enough to tag along.” 

Jonny Quest had a threshold, and he knew himself well enough to know that he needed a breather. “I’ve got to stop you right there, Dad. You’re going to live forever, end of discussion.” He reached both arms behind his back and clasped his hands in a big, much-needed stretch. “I’ve been sitting too long, talking about serious stuff, and I need to feel the wind in my face.” He risked reaching a hand out to Jessie, hoping she’d take it. “What do you say we dig around in the garage and dust off the hoverboards?” 

Chapter Text

She was pretty sure it went against her better judgement, but Jessie took Jonny’s outstretched hand and let him pull her up off of the loveseat. 

She’d been suspicious of her “better judgement” for a while now, anyway. It seemed to be defective.

To Jonny’s credit, he let go almost immediately — but not before brushing his thumb across the back of her hand, then giving it a quick squeeze. 

“Sure.” She tried to sound confident and breezy, tried to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at them. 

He grinned. “Slammin.” He turned to leave the den, then stopped, jammed his hands in his pockets, and turned to Dr. Quest. “Thanks for dinner, Dad. Tell, ah, tell Lawrence I appreciate it.” 

“Of course, Son.” 

The two shared a small smile, and Jonny took off for the hallway, where the garage connected to the main house. “Come on, Jess!”

Jessie knew the whole purpose of the hoverboard situation was to hash things out with Jonny, but she still felt bad leaving Hadji out of it. “Hadj, what about you? Want to come with? The gang’s all here.” 

Hadji gave her a knowing look. “Thank you, my friend, but I have got to get home. The tooth fairy is due for a visit this evening, and Jenna is not a fan of touching teeth.”

Jessie laughed. “Jenna? Really? I didn’t take her for the squeamish type.”

He smiled. “Everyone has a limit. Apparently for my adventurous, highly-logical scientist wife, it is... children’s teeth.” He pulled her in for a hug, more gentle than the one he had thrown around Jonny. “I will take a raincheck on the hoverboards. It would certainly be fun, but it wouldn’t make me as happy as knowing you two are actually speaking to one another.” 

He kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Hearing him out doesn’t mean you’re pretending nothing happened. Try to keep in mind how important you have always been to each other, and all of us.” 

“Okay, Hadj. For you.” 

“No, Jessie, for you. You deserve some closure, or peace. You deserve an apology. A real one.”

She stiffened, just slightly. The story she’d given Hadji was that she and Jonny simply didn’t understand each other anymore, and that she didn’t see that changing anytime soon. That Jonny didn’t understand why she stayed in Maine, running Quest Labs when she’d had so many different, bigger dreams to tackle. All of those things were true, but were they the reason she could barely handle being in the same room as him? Of course not. Of course Hadji saw through that. And, of course, Jonny had given him the full scoop.

She kissed his cheek right back, and headed down the hallway.

***

She found Jonny wedged between a storage cabinet and Race’s favorite car — black as night and gleaming — in the Quests’ garage.

“Does your dad not realize how much room there is in here? Like, you could easily fit a car and a half over there, but he’s parked as close to this cabinet as humanly possible.”

Jessie shrugged. “Who knows? His brain’s probably still back in the Amazon, frolicking in the jungle with Jade.” She leaned over the hood and grabbed one of the cabinet doors, swinging her side of it open. Jonny managed to get his latch free, and whistled in pure delight at the sight of four hoverboards, each about three feet long and painted red, black, and yellow. They were resting comfortably on their own individual charging shelves, one of them covered in a healthy layer of dust. 

“Who’s been using these?” He asked, taking one down and setting it gently against the wall. “I expected that cabinet to be full of cobwebs!” 

Jessie’s lips curved in a smile she couldn’t stop. She walked around Race’s car and hefted the hoverboard in her hands. “Hadj and I have been taking Rachel out for a spin a few times a week — she’s getting pretty confident. It’s a lot of fun. You should… join us next time.” She rolled her eyes. “She just adores her Uncle Jonny.” 

Jonny’s face was the picture of glee. Jessie had always been in awe of how he was able to compartmentalize his emotions so cleanly. She knew he was dreading their conversation — he’d avoided it for three years, after all — and yet there he was, beside himself at the sight of his favorite old toys, the idea of riding them alongside his niece. She could admit that his enthusiasm was contagious, but she still felt like buying a cabin in Colorado and never coming back. 

“Oh man, that sounds so awesome. Yes. Please. I’m glad they’re getting used.” He pushed a button on his board and practically squealed as it whirred to life with a quiet hum. “Oh man!”

She wanted to join him in his excitement, and her chest ached with what the scene could have been: Alone finally, together after so long, and thrilling with the old, familiar promise of adrenaline and speed. They could be wrapped up in all of it. Wrapped up in laughter and nostalgia. Wrapped in each other’s arms and legs and sweat and sighs.

Her breath hitched in her throat. 

But they weren’t. They were wrapped up in discomfort, anger, and a lot of annoying physical… confusion. And the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy his typically contagious enthusiasm made her frustrated all over again. It shouldn’t be like this, damnit. 

She switched on her board without ceremony, let it float about six inches off the garage floor, and stepped on. She found a solid footing and pressed down lightly with her right heel, lifting the board off the ground another foot and a half. “You remember how this works?”

“You bet your ass.” He whooped, hopped on, and pressed hard with his own heel. “Oh— whoah!” The board shot up, sending him listing backward with flailing arms, headed straight for a crash landing in the recycling bin behind him. 

Jessie zipped over to him and firmly shoved her hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him upright and safely back to stability. Jonny shot both arms out to the sides for balance, straightened slowly, and rattled out a thin laugh. His cheeks were hot pink in embarrassment. “That was, ah, surprising!”

Jessie shot up an eyebrow and glided out the open garage door, turning to send him her best seething glare. “What was? That you’re still blindly overconfident? Or that I’m actually capable of doing something other than hiding behind a desk while my dreams rot into oblivion ?”

Jonny’s face morphed into a quick mask of shock, then melted into something like anguish. He had clearly forgotten about that little gem. His hoverboard’s hum filled her ears as he deftly crossed the space between them, his initial topple pushed far from memory. 

She had to give him credit — he was overconfident, but he was also annoyingly good at catching onto things. He looked like he’d been born on that stupid piece of metal, even after years off of it. She would never admit it to him, but it had taken her a solid two weeks before she was able to get the hang of it again.

And so, he was over to her in a flash. He reached up with both hands to touch her arms or cup her face or something similarly pleading and gentle, but stopped. He brought his hands down to his sides and wooshed backward a few feet. He had promised to keep a hoverboard’s length between them, and he seemed determined to make good on that. 

“Jessie.” He exhaled, opened his mouth to say more, but she cut him off. She had been looking forward to a cathartic hoverboard ride along the cliffs, bathed in moonlight and cool, salty air. There was a good chance their conversation would be a lot more productive if she shook off her nervous, angry energy before she shoved it down his throat. 

“No. Let’s fly for a little while first.” 

She expected another whoop from him and his expertly-organized emotions, but it never came. Jonny’s hands hung limply at his sides, and his shoulders were sagging pathetically. He sighed, swallowed heavily. Tried to force a small smile. “You first.”

She nodded and breezed out into the courtyard, stealing a delicious circle around the stone fountain in the center. She stuck an arm out and leaned toward the fountain, running her fingers through the frigid water cascading from the top of it. Droplets splashed up her arm and turned even colder in the night air. She took a moment to look up at the full moon and breathe in the cool bath of white light. These were her favorite scents - ocean, trees, earth, stars. But they all smelled differently tonight - tonight everything was on overdrive. There was an added element of electricity, supercharging everything from the feeling of water on her fingertips to the scent of salt and sand. 

That electricity was currently hanging back, watching her quietly, giving her space. 

She knew it was a silly, indulgent moment. Looking up at a big, full moon and breathing everything in, letting Jonny Quest watch her silently in the background. And that was fine. If there was ever a time to indulge, why the hell not now? She didn’t really have anything left to lose with him, not anymore. She shook out her hair, leaned in on her board, and flew straight in Jonny’s direction, brushing past him so closely that she was able to get a whiff of Earl Grey.

Jessie blazed down the driveway without so much as a glance behind her. She heard a soft, “Hey!” from Jonny and smiled as she veered off into the small wooded area on the south side of the Quest property. Weaving between trees, catching glimpses of distant moonlit-ocean between them, she slowed down her breathing, trying to focus on speed and accuracy rather than the fact that the person she’d been running away from for years was literally chasing her in real-time. 

The spaces between the rushing trees felt like an old film strip, strobing a scene at her that she couldn’t blink away. She could feel her heart in her throat as images from another full moon, three years ago, slammed into her. 

She had been so angry that night, feeling wild and reckless and under the spell of all that otherworldly white light  — she felt like a werewolf who was done trying to fit into the real world. She wanted to climb to the top of the lighthouse and howl, she wanted to throw the bottle of wine down to the cliffs and watch it shatter, she wanted to lay down in the sand so that the briny ocean water would cover her toes and rush up to her waist, washing her boring, predictable, self-inflicted life out to sea. 

She hadn’t been there earlier in the day, to see Duke’s plane land, to see Jonny stumble into the house and crash onto his bed like a toddler who had spent the whole day at the zoo. She’d been too busy grappling with the fact that she had just spent two years of her life pretending to be in love with someone so spectacularly, dazzlingly wrong for her. 

A thin, outreaching branch scraped against her arm, snapping her back to the present. She could hear more snapping behind her. He was gaining on her.

“Where are we headed, Ace?” Jonny called out from only a few feet behind, his old nickname for her slicing through her like something delicious and jagged, all at the same time. “The lighthouse is back that way!”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the info... Hotshot .” It felt good to say it; she imagined he felt the same blissful gut punch she had. “We’re taking the scenic route!” She leaned forward and pulled ahead, breaking through the trees and emerging at the edge of the southern-most cliffs of the property. 

She stared down at the swimming beach thoughtfully. 

She remembered what it felt like to strip down to her underwear and lay in the sand, imagining herself recharging in the moonlight as the waves lapped over her. She had thought about the fact that the water had likely been everywhere — dancing over coral reefs near Australia, trudging through American rivers, doing magical water things off the coast of Ireland. ‘Magical water things’ sounded funnier in her head than she’d expected, and her laugh mingled with the sound of the surf.

She remembered seeing a broad-shouldered silhouette block out the moon above her as it stood over her and said—  

“Jessie? You okay?”

Again, she shook herself back into the moment. Once all the dust had settled, once her heart had scabbed over, she’d done her best to pretend like that night had never happened. But the moon was back, he was back, and he was close, and she could smell him and she knew exactly how his arms fit around her waist when she sighed contentedly and rested her cheek on his chest. Being so angry for so long was exhausting, and she was running out of steam.

“I’m okay,” she said, again. Just like she had before, when she thought she was but definitely wasn’t. “Let’s race to the lighthouse, down the ramp and over the ravine. Don’t go easy on me, Hotshot.” She turned to Jonny, glided over to him, so close that the edges of their boards were snug against each other. “I’m serious. I can give you a run for your money.”

She put her hands on his chest, splaying all her fingers out over them, marveling at how tiny her hands looked. Why the hell not?

Well, there were a lot of good reasons not to. But she was tired, and his chest looked like it was carved out of marble, and she just wanted to . 

His breath came out slowly, carefully. He tentatively circled her wrists with his long fingers. “You’re confusing me.”

He lifted her hands off of him and inched backward.

“Tell me about it,” she breathed. She ran her fingers through her long hair, cursed at herself quietly. “When you’re gone, it’s much easier to hate your guts.” 

She could see his glacial blue eyes in the moonlight, his eyebrows lifted sky-high over them, his lips parted in plain, honest shock. 

He whispered, “Please don’t hate me.”

“Well you’re here, in front of me. So I don’t, currently. But I think I need to stop looking at you now.” She turned back to the cliffs. “You ready?” 

He swallowed. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Good. On three.” She shook off the memories that were whispering in her ears, shook off the hormones that were clouding her head. She readjusted her footing and crouched, just a bit. “One. Two. Three!”  

They blasted back into the woods without so much as a glance in one another’s direction. The dark, cool air surrounded Jessie as she wove around tree trunks, ducked under branches, and did her best to shut out the knowledge that Jonny was somewhere behind her, his signature look of determination painted across his face. 

Her breath picked up its pace, and her pulse started to pound in her ears — feelings that were all too familiar when Jonny was around. 

When she wanted to strangle him, her heart raced. 

When his big, damned, puppy-dog eyes lit up at her with interest when she talked, her heart raced. 

When his long fingers traced the length of her spine from neck to waist, her heart hurtled right past the sound barrier.

To her left, Jonny sailed over a fallen log and zipped in front of her, quickly putting distance between them. 

Damnit. 

She scowled, and leaned forward a little more, trying to gain speed. Jonny plunged from the forest and into the moonlight ahead of her, veering left for the rock-paved ramp that led down to the lighthouse. 

“Augh, no!” She burst out of the woods right behind him and tried to take stock of her surroundings, without decreasing her pace. The branches of the tall maple tree by the main house were being pulled toward the ocean, more dramatically than when they left. Jonny was following the path that had been paved toward the lighthouse, but that path was currently taking him directly into the wind. If she flew off the path and jumped the ravine to the south of the bridge, she’d be able to move with the wind, and hopefully grab enough momentum to make it over to the other side. The ravine was six feet across, with a significant drop to the rocky beach below. It was risky.

It sounded like something Jonny would do; she couldn’t believe he hadn’t come up with it himself. 

And so she did. She veered off, heading for the lighthouse in a straight shot. As the crow flies, she thought with a smile, before she shut her brain off and put all of her body into moving forward, as fast as she could. 

As she neared the ravine, she heard a distant, “Hey! Jessie!” She ignored it, and looked down at her feet to watch the ground beneath her board disappear. The green grass gave way to a far-off snake of ocean water, flanked by dark, angry rocks. She held her breath when she felt her hoverboard lose the surface it needed to actually hover over, and thrilled with the knowledge that she was moving on nothing but the momentum she’d gathered herself. Jonny was yelling frantically in the background, but he sounded like he was inside a fish tank, or a fly buzzing around her head. Right before she reached the other side, she leaned forward and pulled up on the front of her board, giving it a chance to start hovering over the ground again before she took a nose dive in the dirt.

The trusty old board did its job, and she was gliding again. Jonny was so far behind her that she crowed triumphantly, sending up a battle cry that scared a pack of pigeons off the keeper’s house. 

She hopped to the ground, firmly placed a hand on the wooden siding of the lighthouse to secure her victory, and powered down her hoverboard. She held it high above her head in both hands. “Who’s the hotshot, now?” She turned around to him, fully prepared to rub it in. 

But she didn’t. She hadn’t seen him that angry in, well, she honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing him so angry. 

“What in the hell was that? It was just a fucking race! ”

Her words froze in her throat. All she could force from her lips was, “Excuse me?”

“Are you insane? You know these boards need something to push off of! They’ve got a far reach, but that’s a 30-foot drop! There was nothing — nothing — to prove here! Nothing worth that kind of risk!”

Adrenaline was still flooding her senses, and she felt her skin flush with anger; every one of his words lighting her capillaries on fire. The man in front of her had pulled countless reckless stunts right before her eyes, and she had rescued him from plenty of them. His gall was too much.

“ You don’t get to talk to me like that! ” She yelled it. It felt good. 

“You don’t get to look at me like you were so worried and now you’re just so relieved and now you just have to yell at me . You don’t get to tell me what I do or do not have to prove !”

“Jessie —”

“You haven’t been here , Jonny Quest! You wouldn’t have any idea what I am capable of!” Her words bounced off the lighthouse and echoed down the cliffs, reminding her of where she was, reminding her of the fact that she was surrounded by nothing but power — waves and wind and gravitational pull.

She’d spent too many years making safe, responsible choices. Too many years bottling her skills, her fears, her own power down inside of herself, hoping the pressure in her chest would somehow dissolve and leave her unscathed. 

But pressure doesn’t work like that. It erupts, and it turns you into shrapnel.

She whirled around, her fists clenched at her sides, and sent a frustrated, wordless scream out toward the ocean.

Chapter Text

Three Years Ago

The reflection of the moon, huge and round and hypnotizing, winked in and out on the waves, each lap of ocean water sending chills up Jessie’s skin. She was giggling to herself, feeling more free and decadent than she had in a long time. Her arms were spread out at her sides, and she took great, big handfuls of beach in her fingers, trying to feel each individual grain of sand. 

Jonny wasn’t sure of what to do. He’d trudged into the kitchen after his jet lag nap, bleary-eyed and disoriented, to find the small wine refrigerator open, its door hanging carelessly on the hinges. An open box of crackers had spilled out over the kitchen island, and a block of aged cheddar, a corner lopped off of it, sat next to the cracker carnage. Upon closer examination, he realized the corner hadn’t been sliced off; someone had simply bitten hunks off of it. He padded over to close the wine fridge, turned, and tripped over a black high-heeled shoe lying in the middle of the floor. As he fell, he smacked into the island, lost his balance, and toppled onto the tile. His right shoulder singing in pain, he rolled over to his back and picked up the shoe. It was shiny, pointy, and so tall it looked like pure sin… or an expensive future of chiropractic appointments. A cool breeze blew over him, sending goosebumps along his arms.

“What in the hell?” He dropped the shoe and tilted his head back, looking above and behind him to the sliding door that led out to the patio. It wasn’t hanging open like the wine cooler, but someone had definitely forgotten to shut it all the way. Jonny groaned and pulled himself up, moving the shoe neatly out of the way, hopefully preventing someone else from suffering a similar fate. 

He noted that none of the alarms had gone off... not that he was actually worried about a break-in. Burglars didn’t usually leave highly-impractical shoes at the scene of the crime. He noted the time — 11:04 pm. He’d slept like the dead for five hours. Normally, Jonny would  assume Race had invited the owner of the high heels over, but he, Dr. Quest, and Lawrence were in Oregon, investigating… something. He couldn’t remember. 

 He rubbed his eyes, slipped on some sandals, and stepped outside, searching the area for anything out of the ordinary. He cocked an eyebrow; another shoe glinted in the moonlight, a few feet off the patio. 

He stopped walking for a moment, training his ears to his surroundings. His gut wasn’t telling him an assassin was sneaking around the compound or anything, but the years had taught him not to underestimate people in high heels. 

Nothing looked off. The surf was calm, for the most part. He could hear the waves, hear the hum of the lighthouse… but there was something there. Something almost musical. He walked out to the shoe and picked it up. The missing twin heel. The sound was louder there, and seemed to be coming from the swimming beach, so he started down the steep dirt path.

Dirt and pebbles scattered from under his feet as he carefully made his way down. That was the one thing his dad kept forgetting to do — build a less-precarious way to get to the beach. The debris settled on a small ledge below him, right on top of a black piece of fabric nestled on the side of the path. He picked it up, stretched it out flat in front of him, and realized it was a skirt. A knee-length, pencil skirt with a dangerous slit up the side.

“Oh, man.”

He looked out ahead to see another crumpled piece of black fabric, and about 50 feet beyond that, the source of the music he’d been hearing.

Someone was out there on the beach. Someone with long legs and porcelain skin that reflected the moonlight right back up to the heavens. Someone in their underwear. 

Someone with bright, blazing, flame-red hair. 

“Oh, jeeze.” 

As Jonny got closer, he could pick up the tune, and was surprised by the fact that her voice wasn’t totally off-key… actually kind of pretty. She was belting out an old song, stretching her arms above her and running her fingers through the sand. Fleetwood Mac, maybe? The one about a woman being taken by the wind. His mom had told him, a long time ago, that it was about a witch, or a goddess or something. 

He approached slowly, not wanting to scare her. Before he could say anything, though, she stopped singing and burst into laughter, tipping her head back, letting the earthy sound ripple out of her. 

Even when they were kids — before she transformed into a corporate pod person — when she was always up for an adventure, he’d never seen her like this. The more he thought about it, he realized he’d never actually heard her sing. He felt like he was staring at an alien. In underwear.

He couldn’t take it; it was all too weird.

“Jessie? You okay?”

He’d expected her to startle, or jump, but she didn’t. She simply let her laughter die down, and sighed. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Are you? Because, you seem like maybe you’re really, really drunk.” He couldn’t be sure of that , either, because that was something he’d never seen before. 

She laughed again. “Ohhh yeah. Well, I was. Not so much anymore. I mean, I still am. But I shared a drink with the ocean, and it took the rest of the bottle.” She moved her arms back down, slowly. Like she was making a snow angel in the sand. “I think that was a long time ago.” 

He swallowed. Fumbled for something to say. Now that he knew she wasn’t having some kind of psychotic break, he was starting to notice things. Like the fact that she was not only in her underwear, she was in expensive underwear. Black silk, and lace. A matching set. 

Another swallow. “I, ah, I found your clothes.” He rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder. “And your shoes.” 

“Thanks, Jonny.” Her lips curved slowly around the words. His name felt lovely in her mouth. 

“Is there… any particular reason you’re not wearing them? It’s not exactly summertime. It’s cold.” 

He had been blocking her view of the moon, and she was glad he’d shifted to the side. She smiled again. “I’m charging up.” 

“Uh, what?”

“The last time I went anywhere with my dad, it was to visit Jade. Who the hell knows where she was then, but it was a full moon. Just like this.” 

Jonny didn’t know what else to do, so he sat down on the sand next to the hands she’d brought back up. Out of the corner of his eye, something glinted. 

“Dad had turned in early. Looking back on it now, it’s like duh, he was trying to force us to bond.” She paused for a few beats. “It wasn’t that bad. She’s not that bad.” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.” Jonny turned, and reached over to a dry patch of sand a couple of feet away, unearthing something partially buried. As soon as his fingers touched the smooth velvet, he felt the blood drain from his face, felt his mouth go painfully dry. He knew he’d seen something twinkling, but hadn’t been prepared for the small black box that was sitting innocently in his hand, pretending like it wasn’t displaying a massive, gaudy diamond ring. 

“So she opened up a bottle of wine and we sat outside on the deck, staring into some jungle. And she had this little round table full of rocks and crystals and a box of frigging tarot cards and everything.”

“Uh-huh.” Jonny was trying to listen to her, but she was rambling. And he was holding an engagement ring. 

“And so I asked her what all of that stuff was, and she said she was charging her crystals in the full moon.” Jessie let out a chuckle. “She said that I ‘shouldn’t underestimate the power of moonlight,’ and, Jonny, it was the stupidest shit. ”

He tried to laugh along with her, but didn’t quite have it in him. “Doesn’t look like you think it’s that stupid.” 

“Don’t you feel it?” She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Like, don’t you feel it all the way down to your toes?” She wiggled said appendages, delighting in the way her red toenails looked under the water. “Don’t you ever tell Jade I think she’s right, but I feel like I’ve been in low power mode for ages, and I’m finally in the green again.”

“So did you come out here to charge this crystal?”

She sat up fully, turned to him. She hadn’t really looked at him yet, hadn’t fully processed who she’d been talking to. His messy blonde hair in the moonlight made him look unreal — like he was an elf from middle earth or something. She giggled at that. “One does not simply walk into… walk down to the… swimming beach.”

“Jessie.” He held the ring out to her. “Jess, what is this?”

Her giggle died in her throat. She stared at it for a few moments, then batted it out of his hand like a cranky cat. It fell into the sand a few feet away, basically where he had found it in the first place. 

“Augh!” She plopped back down into the sand. Tried to get herself back to where she had been moments before — twinkling and electric and made of the same stuff as the ocean and the stars… but she could tell it wasn’t going to happen. For one thing, the fuzziness from the wine was starting to dwindle. 

For another, well, the ring. She sighed heavily. Her feet were starting to feel like ice cubes.

Jonny reached over again, making sure the ring wasn’t in danger of being swept away. Somebody had paid a lot of money for that, and he was awash with shame at the realization that he wasn’t sure who it was. He looked back at Jessie. She was starting to shiver. He’d known her for a while; it would probably take a lot more than hypothermia to get her to tell him what was bothering her. 

He pulled his sandals off and set them up by the ring. He rolled his jeans up past his knees and scooted down next to her. 

“Alright. How do I do this?” He laid flat on his back and turned his palms to the sky. “Do I specifically need to sing Fleetwood Mac? Or can I pick something else?” He turned his head to her, the sand smashing up against his cheek. He’d expected a laugh out of that one, but she was just looking up at the moon, a tear quietly sliding down her cheek, melting into her hair. Her bottom lip was shaking. 

His hand was already pressed up against her wrist, so he went ahead and laced his fingers in with hers. He used to do that, when things got scary and they both needed to know the other one was there. It took her a few moments, but she squeezed his hand. Soft, fast breaths were slipping from her lips as she tried to will the tears back into her eyes.

“Jessie.” He whispered it. “Jess, it’s too cold out here. Let’s find you a robe and something warm to drink, okay? And food would be good. I’ll even make you soup.” 

She sniffed, turned her head so she could see him. His thick, luminescent hair had toppled into the sand, and his blue eyes looked so concerned. God, it felt good to see someone look at her with an expression that felt new and genuine. “What… kind of soup?”

His lips twitched in a tiny smile, like he was afraid he would spook her if it got too wide. “I gotta be honest, Jess, it’s going to be ramen. Like, college ramen.” 

“That sounds perfect.” 

Jonny sat up, stood up, and reached out a hand. She waved it away. “Check out what I can still do.” 

Inspired by the promise of food and a desperate need to not look helpless anymore, Jessie lifted her legs up out of the water, folded her body so her knees briefly kissed her forehead, and launched herself to her feet in a kip-up. Jonny’s brain flashed back and flooded with memories of the two of them, 13 and 14, practicing for hours just to get that move right. Flashed back to the present and flooded with the way the water slicked off her skin, how her partially-wet hair stuck to her neck and chest.

He could feel his pulse speeding up. He didn’t know what to do with that. 

And then her face turned a ghostly shade of white — paler than it already was. She swayed on her feet, muttered, “Um, whoops.”

“Dude, Jess!” He ran forward and slipped his arms under hers, placing one hand on the small of her back and the other above her shoulder blades. His thighs pressed up against hers, and he did his best to make sure it stopped there. 

She smiled up at him. “I’ve still got it.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” She laughed, and it echoed off the rocks. He repositioned her so they weren’t so… intimate, tossing her arm over his shoulder. “Listen, there’s no way I can carry you newlywed-style up those cliffs.” 

He internally flinched at his phrasing, but she didn’t seem to notice. He handed her the skirt and top, shuffled his feet back into his shoes, and kicked the small velvet box closer to him with his left foot. She huffed, “You can just leave that out here, you know. It’s supposed to be my offering to the moon.” 

“I’ll remind you that you said that, the next time you bitch about Jade.” He pocketed the ring, turned his head to her. Shit , he thought, and sucked in a breath. She was absolutely… gorgeous. He’d always known that — always known she was beautiful on a surface level, but he’d managed to do a great job of compartmentalizing that fact. He had a pretty friend, that’s all. A pretty friend who could beat the living crap out of somebody who looked at her the wrong way. A pretty friend who regularly outpaced him on the hoverboards, was fun to talk to, and was always willing to listen to his problems. Well, up until a few years ago, at least.

But tonight, he noticed things. Things he had either never noticed before, or had forced out of his mind for survival’s sake. Her mouth; the tops of her lips were so pointy , like two little mountains, and the bottom lip was soft. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he wanted to know how soft. He wanted to slide his hand underneath the wet hair on her collarbone, unstick it from her skin. 

“Jesus,” he breathed. Maybe Jade was on to something; maybe it was all that silvery light, filtering through Jessie’s hair, lighting her eyes like they were glowing from within. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, ran his hand through his hair, and did his best to muster up a carefree grin. “Piggy-back ride?”

Delighted, she threw her head back and laughed again in answer. “You’re so smart, Jonny Quest. Even if you don’t think you are.” 

All this laughing was making him dizzy. Unbridled, easy laughter had not been Jessie’s MO as of late. And she knew his baggage; he had always felt like the stupidest person in the room, and she never let him get away with it.  

He crouched down so that she could climb onto his back. Her arms slipped around his shoulders, her hands clasped over his chest. When her legs came up to cross at his waist, her ocean-soaked body sticking to his clothes, his footing faltered, just a little. Instinctively, his hands reached up under her thighs for support. He reminded himself that this is just what you do when you give someone a piggy-back ride; he would have put his hands there if it had been Hadji. Or Race. Or, an imaginary cousin he didn’t have .  

He hadn’t quite thought this through. Hadn’t realized he’d needed to.

He took a deep breath, focused on the engagement ring in his front pocket. What in the hell was happening? It was… a lot. He started up the cliffs, carefully watching his step. The last thing he needed was to fall backward and add a concussion to her inevitable hangover. 

He’d expected more banter on the walk back to the main house, but it never came. She rested her head against his neck, and kept quiet. 

He couldn’t see, but she was watching the moon and luxuriating in the fact that she didn’t currently owe anyone anything. She’d have so much to deal with the next day, but that was tomorrow. Right then, she focused on the warmth of Jonny’s broad back against her cold skin, and how nice it felt that he was taking care of her. How nice it was that they had said more than 10 words to one another, and how long it had been since he’d looked at her with affection rather than worry or judgement. 

She pushed that thought away, and nuzzled her face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder. She knew that smell, and she had always loved it. Clean and woodsy — like a lumberjack taking a bath in the middle of a forest. She let out a low chuckle that vibrated onto his skin. He shivered as he stepped onto the patio.

“You okay back there?”

“Yep.”

Jonny pulled the sliding door open as far as it would go, in the hopes that he wouldn’t smack her elbows or knees on the frame. He scanned the room for any rogue footwear, then headed over to the kitchen. He turned around and backed up to the island. “Sit.” 

“Okay.” She let go of him and criss-crossed her legs under herself, trying to get comfortable on the marble countertop. It was cold . Jonny jogged upstairs, leaving her alone with the ticking kitchen clock, and the snack destruction she’d left behind her. She’d mutilated the poor, unsuspecting block of cheddar about halfway through the first bottle of wine. He reentered the kitchen holding a fluffy, dark gray robe. “That’s Lawr’s. I think it’s his fancy robe.”

“Well, it looks a lot more comfortable than that black getup you apparently had on earlier, and I don’t really feel like walking over to your cottage and digging through your drawers.” 

They stared at each other. He blushed and handed her the robe. 

“Alright. First things first, you need water.” He patted her knee and grabbed a plastic tumbler out of the cupboard closest to him. It was green, and was emblazoned with the logo for “Pascha’s Potions.” Hadji’s childhood caretaker had gotten into the essential oil business, and had convinced Lawrence to buy a matching tumbler set, some “artisan cologne,” and a diffuser shaped like a lighthouse. Jonny filled the tumbler with water, plopped a metal straw into it, and passed it to her. “You’ve gotta drink that whole thing, okay?”

She accepted it, took a sip. Out of obligation, she added, “You don’t have to do this, Jonny. I can just shuffle over to the cottage and crash and be mad at myself in the morning.”

He flipped a switch on the electric kettle and pulled a French press off the top of the microwave, scooped some coffee grounds into the base of it. “Jessie, I’ve gotta be honest.”

“Uh-oh.” 

“No, I mean, it’s been so… nice to talk to you, and I don’t really want to stop.  If you’ve got meetings or something in the morning, I get it, but —”

“No!” The kitchen island was only a few feet from where he was standing, so she reached out, put her hand on his back. “I know what you mean. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I don’t have meetings — I don’t even have work tomorrow. Coffee sounds great.” 

He crossed to the pantry, rummaged in there for a bit, and emerged with a bright orange package of chicken-flavored ramen noodles. “Whew, I’m glad there are still a few of these in there!”

Jessie smiled. “Lawr knows you like them. He doesn’t say anything about it, but he always makes sure there are a few in the pantry, and that they’re not expired. I check.” 

Jonny’s eyes dimmed for a moment, as he processed the fact that two people he rarely talked to were consistently thinking of him. “So,” he broke the ramen brick in half, put each piece in an oversized cappuccino mug. “You’re telling me you took a day off of work tomorrow? Is everything okay? Did someone die?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it definitely didn’t land. Jessie’s eyes were hard, looking out into the dining room. She didn’t say anything. He dumped half of the seasoning packet in each mug. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I was just trying to be funny.” He opened up the refrigerator, looked around a bit, and found a container of shredded chicken. “I’m gonna start over.” He put a handful of chicken on top of each ramen brick, right as the electric kettle clicked off. “Why don’t you have to work tomorrow?” 

She watched him pour boiling water into the mugs, and set a plate on top of each of them. He turned around, crossed his arms casually, and leaned up against the refrigerator. Nothing to do but wait for noodles. 

His patient expression, the fact that he was simply waiting to listen to her, broke something open. She fixed her eyes on his, noted that she wasn’t dizzy anymore. “I was supposed to spend a long weekend in the country with Mark.” 

Ooh, whoah. He didn’t like hearing her say some guy’s name that comfortably. That was a new feeling. “Mark.” He tossed the name around in his mind. “The dude who manages the rec center? Were you two still together?” 

“Yeah. Two years.” 

“Holy crap. I’m sorry I didn’t know that. I look like a jackass.” 

“No. Well, only a little. I don’t really talk about him much.” 

Jonny gingerly touched the kettle, decided it had cooled down enough, and poured the remaining hot water into the French press. He set the plunger on top, tapped his watch, and set a quiet timer.

“Fancy ramen, fancy coffee. I had no idea you were such a gourmand.” 

He laughed in surprise. “Fancy ramen?”

“You added chicken!” 

“It’s extra protein! That’s just smart eatin’, Ace.” A smile, from both of them, at the nickname. “And French press is easier when you’re the only one drinking coffee. It’s what I’m used to.”

“I think you and I consume staggeringly different amounts of coffee.” 

He tapped his watch again, and turned to push down the plunger. “Remind me to look up the word ‘gourmand’ later.” 

“Shut up. I’m sure you can figure it out.” She snuggled into the robe a little bit more, and watched as he poured the coffee. He grabbed a pint of half-and-half out of the fridge, poured a tablespoon in one cup, and what looked like a quarter of a cup into the other. He added three spoonfuls of sugar to the second mug. She wanted to laugh at his ridiculous excuse for a cup of coffee, but found she couldn’t get past the lump in her throat. He remembered exactly how she drank hers, and he hadn’t changed how he drank his . She’d forgotten how safe he was, how he felt like solid ground. 

“It was our anniversary. We went out for an early dinner, and were going to head out to a cabin afterward.” 

Jonny handed her her mug, took a quick sip of his own, and leaned back against the fridge. The ramen was probably ready, but he didn’t want to make any sudden moves. 

“I don’t know. I did all the things you do for an anniversary. I put on his favorite outfit. Bought new…” She paused, thought about it, and accepted the fact that they were long past being embarrassed about what she was wearing. “Bought new lacey underwear. Did my makeup, did my hair. Met him at the restaurant.” She chewed her lip. She didn’t know how to talk about this out loud. 

He turned to the counter again, removed the plates from the mugs of ramen, and grabbed some wooden chopsticks out of a drawer. “So was lunch a disaster, or something?” He placed the ramen on the kitchen island, hers with a pot holder under it, and pulled a stool over so he was sitting in front of her. “You want to sit on a stool?” 

She shook her head. “No, thanks. It feels like old times up here.” Jonny put his hand on hers briefly, and started in on his soup. 

“So, we sat there, like we always did, with me scrambling in my head for something to talk about. Something clicked then, between the Caesar salad and the crab legs. I thought, ‘am I always supposed to be working this hard to find interesting shit to talk about?’” She slurped up some noodles, tried a few pieces of chicken. “This is good.”

“I’m telling you, it’s just instant ramen.” 

“It’s exactly what I needed. Anyway, so then it happened. He told me he’d seen this house for sale down his street, and that he was thinking about buying it.” She lowered her voice to a dull baritone, imitating someone he didn’t know. “‘A nice-sized ranch-style house, not too big, not too small.’” She scoffed. “And then he asked how I felt about buying it with him.” 

Jonny slurped his noodles, too. “Oh jeeze. Ranch? Come on. Jessie Bannon needs bannisters to slide down.”

She let out the tiniest gasp. “That’s what I said. I said, ‘How am I going to slide down the bannisters if there’s only one story?’ And he looked at me like I was from another planet. He said, ‘Since when do you slide down bannisters?’ And I… I just stared at him.” 

“Jess, hey. Hey, it’s okay.” 

“Huh?” She reached up and touched her cheek. Her fingers were wet. Damnit. “I’m fine. It’s the wine. I’m feeling a lot better, but this’ll probably keep happening for a while.”

Jonny raised his eyebrow and gave her a skeptical look, then took another sip of his coffee-flavored half-and-half. “So you dated this guy for two years, and he’d never witnessed your sick bannister skills?”

“Yeah.” She paused, swallowed. “So, he looks at me with that look he gets when he feels like he knows better than me, and says, ‘We all get old, Jessie. You exercise a lot, which I love, but we’re not going to be able to make it up the stairs forever. Why buy a house with a whole story we won’t be able to use someday?’”

Jonny wasn’t much of a spit-take guy, but he almost sprayed her with coffee. “What in the fuck ?”

“I know. I know . How had I been with somebody like that? For so long? Someone who doesn’t understand why 30 years of sliding down bannisters is worth more than the 10 years you can’t?”

He shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, that’s freaking weird. But, ‘You exercise a lot, which I love ?’ Who talks like that? Who says that? Is he a sociopath?” 

She stirred her soup around. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t notice that. That stuff was kind of par-for-the-course with him.” 

30 seconds ago, Jonny had been starving. Now he was fighting down bile. On the beach, he had clocked her hip bones sticking out of the top of her underwear, but had chosen not to dwell on it. When he picked her up, she’d been lighter than he’d ever remembered, but he’d never comment on that. Not in a million years.

“Par-for-the-course? Can you elaborate on that?”

“Jonny, it’s fine. Don’t go all macho on me.” 

“Jess, I’m going to need, like, a little more here. Humor me, okay? If I’m stuck with what’s going on in my head I’m gonna Hulk out.” 

She took a few moments to finish up her ramen, and set the bowl down next to her. “Thanks, Jonny. That was good. I don’t feel like vomiting anymore, so that’s a plus.” 

“Jessie.” 

She huffed and flopped her hands into her lap. “I’m embarrassed, okay? I honestly don’t think I registered how obsessed he was with how I looked until you said something, just now.” She tugged the robe around her. “He maybe, ah, bought me a scale for my birthday last year.” 

He dropped his chopsticks into his bowl, got up from the stool, and set their dishes in the sink. He put his hands on his hips and stared out the kitchen window for a moment. “Alright. Jess, how does this happen?” He turned back to her. He wasn’t yelling, but, boy, was he pissed. And confused. And heartbroken. “You were always the strongest person I knew. You didn’t take shit. You knew what you wanted. How does some bro from the rec center get enough of a hold on you that you forget to slide down the bannisters? That you accept a scale as a present without punching him straight in the face?”

“Jonny, I don’t know. Time happens. You know better for a while, and then you forget.” She pulled her knees in close to her chest and looked down at the counter. “And then you choose what’s easy until you can’t anymore.” 

That knocked the wind from his sails. “Well… damnit.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the sink. “I can’t argue with that. So, what happened? Tell me you punched him.” 

She gave him a sad smile. “He proposed to me. Talking about the house was the lead-in. He got down on one knee, in the restaurant, in front of everyone, which is basically my worst nightmare. And the ring looks like, I don’t know, a spaceship? It’s huge. It’s so ugly.”

“Holy shit.” 

“And I panicked. I started crying, I said ‘No no no no’ over and over. I felt like I was trapped 20,000 leagues under the sea again, except this time I was being chased by a miserable, boring future instead of bloodthirsty sea monsters.”

Jonny didn’t know what to say to that. Neither one of them had talked about the panic attack she’d had so long ago, when they were both trapped in an underwater research facility. He’d been calm in the moment, had done his best to be comforting and encouraging so they could get the hell out of there. But afterward, he hadn’t known what to do with it, because she’d always been so self-assured, so cool under pressure. Watching her hyperventilate in front of him was jarring, to say the least. He’d known she was embarrassed, so he hadn’t pushed her. And then they’d just pretended it never happened. 

“And this is where I start to feel guilty. I just grabbed my purse and ran. Left him on his knee, left him holding that ring, left him with the bill and a whole lot of crab legs.” 

“And then you came here.”

“Yep.” 

“Why didn’t you go to your house?”

“I did, first. But I’ve got pictures up with him in them, and gifts he’s given me. Some of them weren’t weight loss-related.” She tried to smile. “So I just walked over here. And there was wine. And here we are. The cheddar never knew what hit it.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“He called me a lot. I finally answered, once, and said I couldn’t do this anymore. Said we’d talk tomorrow. I wanted to say ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ but that’s not true. It is him. It’s me, too. We’re just wrong.”

“So, if you left him alone with the seafood and the ring, how did it end up on the beach?”

“The doorbell rang at some point. He’s got a key to my cottage but not the main house, so he just left the ring on the front porch.” She fiddled with the belt of her robe, didn’t notice that the oversized fabric had slipped off her shoulder. “Why can’t we just be right for each other? Why can’t it just be easy?”

Jonny flexed his hands, sucked in a shaky breath, and pulled the robe back up, tucking it under her chin. He left his fingers there, lifted her face up just the tiniest bit. “That’s a lot. Like, that’s heavy. You need to cry some more?” He quickly added, “I’m not giving you hell. Not crying when you’ve still got crying to do is bad for your health. You might explode or something.” 

They smiled at each other, and she let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks, but no.” She looked up at him. “I can’t think of anything else I could possibly need right now.”

That’s when Jonny knew. When something in the air snapped, and he realized he couldn’t possibly need anything else, either. It was all here, right in front of him. She was here. She’d always been here.

He gently pulled his fingertips from under her chin, and rubbed both hands over his face. He found his coffee mug, tipped it up to his lips, and gulped the last of it before crossing to the other side of the room. He kicked his shoes off by the patio door. He looked at the clock. “You sober yet?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately.”

He took a few steps toward her, and stopped. It felt like the air around him was crackling, like he’d shuffled across three miles of carpet in his socks. “I’m serious. Tell me something very complicated, something only a not-drunk, totally-in-control-of-their-faculties-person would say.”

“I, um. Hmm.” Jessie searched her brain, happy to find that the fog had dissipated. She wasn’t sure what this was about, why he looked so determined and intense, but she’d go with it. At least she wasn’t thinking about her problems anymore. “Um, I guess I could tell you about the most recent environmental preservation acquisition at work?” 

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” He didn’t move. Just stood in the moonlight that was sneaking in through the sliding doors.

“Oookay.” She brought her knees down so that her legs were dangling off the countertop. She instinctively pushed her tangled hair behind her ears — business mode. “So, as you hopefully know, your dad and I have been working to reduce Quest Labs’ carbon footprint for a while now, and we’ve done that, significantly.”

“Uh-huh.” He took a slow breath and moved back into the kitchen. He picked up the stool he’d been sitting on and pushed it back to its original position. “Say something with numbers in it.” 

“Right. So, we want to switch gears now to actually reversing damage done to ecosystems in the hopes that we can restore certain habitats to their former, more thriving states. We found an 80-mile stretch of river in the midwest that hosts 400 to 600 thousand cranes every spring, and—”

“Jessie.” 

There was an edge to his voice that dissolved the words on her lips. She’d never heard him sound like this: firm, commanding, desperate. All at once.

“Jonny, what—”

“I want to kiss you.” 

“You… oh. ” 

“I need to know if that’s okay with you.” He stood in front of her, went to place his hands on her bare knees, but stopped with only a centimeter of air between their skin. “I want to put my hands on you, and I — I want to feel you against me, and I need to know whether or not you want that, too.” 

She licked her lips. “Oh, wow, Jonny, I —” 

“You’ve gotta tell me, Jess.” He touched his forehead to hers, his words barely a whisper. “I’m not gonna make a move unless you say yes.” 

She allowed herself an excruciating nine seconds to think it through. There were two years with Mark she had yet to unpack. She and Jonny had an airport’s worth of baggage between them. He was one of her oldest friends. 

He’d also made her soup. 

And, if she got really, really honest with herself, she’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss him because she wanted to, not because some ghost made her do it.

She made a point of meeting his eyes, confidently, with hers. 

“ Yes.”

Jonny’s held breath whooshed out, ragged and relieved. His hands tore through that centimeter of air and slid up her thighs, made their way to her hips. She let out a soft gasp that sent his pulse through the roof. “Oh, my god.” His fingertips pressed into her skin. “I think I would have died if you said no.” 

“That’s…” She tried to catch her breath, but his hands had flown from her hips and up to her face, his fingers threaded through her hair at the base of her skull, his thumbs tracing her jawline. His hair had fallen into both of their eyes. She dared to slide a hand to his chest, across his ribcage, around his back to bring him closer to her, to touch him with an intent she never thought would be allowed. “That’s pretty dramatic.” 

“I’m feeling pretty dramatic.” He gave in. He brought her lips up to his, and reeled at how soft they were, how they immediately gave back to him. He tried to slow down, tried reminding himself over and over that this only happened once, this moment right here, and if he moved too quickly, he might just eat her alive. 

He wasn’t the only one reeling. Where did this come from? Jessie thought, as she parted his lips with her tongue, just the tiniest bit. As she tasted the sweetness, all that sugar from his coffee, she knew it had always been there. He’d always been honest, intense, always asking for what he needed, no matter how it looked. Of course he’d be like this. Of course he’d come to her like a thunderstorm, crashing into her after holding back for as long as he could manage. 

He kissed her senseless, his hands in her hair, his chest aching against hers. He kissed her until he needed to breathe again, and when he pulled back, he gulped for air, brushed his thumb over her lips. “We can’t do this here.” He went back in for more, this time pressing his hand at the small of her back, pushing her hips toward his. 

The thought of walking across the driveway to her cottage felt like pure, unadulterated torture. “Guest room?” she gasped. 

“Yeah.” He nipped at her chin. “Good idea.” Jonny lifted her up off the countertop, no longer concerned about where his hands were. The black silk was smooth under his fingertips, and he moaned in disbelief. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he fumbled backward as best he could, with her lips all over him. 

“Jessie!” He blurted it out, half-laughing. “I can’t do stairs like this. I don’t want to kill us both with a head injury before I get to see you naked.” 

She pulled her head back to gawk at him, her eyes wide. “Whoah.”

He stopped trying to walk, and smiled at her, slowly. “This is weird, huh?”

“Kind of.” 

“Piggy-back ride?” 

“Mmhm.”

He let her down, gently, making sure to slide his hands all the way up her sides before turning around and hefting her back up. She leaned in close to his ear. 

“You better take those steps two-at-a time.” 

And he did.

When he reached the top of the staircase, he stopped, readjusted Jessie in his grip. “Shit,” he whispered. “I wasn’t… prepared for this.” He looked frantically at a door to his right. “Maybe Race has some —”

“First of all, Jonny Quest, if you think I’m using my dad’s condoms—” 

“Oh, right, yeah sorry!” He barked out a surprised laugh. 

“Secondly, I’m on the pill.” 

He grinned. “God, I love science.”  

When Jonny made it to the guest room, he turned and tossed her onto the bed. She laughed as she bounced, but put a hand over her mouth when she looked up at him, standing over her. She’d known him almost her whole life, but she’d never seen this Jonny before. He was towering, tight with kinetic energy. His eyes had always been easy to read, but she’d never looked into them and seen such blatant need. He pulled his shirt off, tossed it onto the floor. He kicked his jeans off and out of the way, too, and it took all of Jessie’s willpower not to cheer in delight at his lean, toned frame. 

She’d seen him shirtless countless times; swimming, jogging, stumbling into the kitchen to grab a Pop-Tart in the mornings, but that was all before he’d gone abroad for Quest Labs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen this much of him. She couldn’t think of a more elegant way to put it — he was cut. Nothing crazy, nothing Conan , but she could absolutely make out each individual abdominal muscle, sticking out subtly from above his gray boxer briefs. 

His boxer briefs. Oh, god. He filled them out... well . 

“Jessie.” He practically dove into the sheets with her, planting his lips on her neck, shoulders, collarbone. “Jessie, that guy’s such an idiot. I could kill him.” 

“Don’t,” she breathed. “I don’t want to think about him.”

“You’re beautiful.” He slipped the black straps off her shoulders. “You’re perfect.” He put his lips where the dark silk had been. “No matter what.” He propped himself above her, his ice blue eyes burning into her green ones. “Unconditionally.” 

She knew, without a doubt, that if her nerve-endings weren’t on fire, and if the weight of him weren’t the most delicious feeling, she would have burst into tears. 

So she didn’t. She decided to believe him, and arched her back so that he could reach under her and unhook the silver clasps that held her way-too-expensive bra together. The sound that came out of Jonny’s mouth was so close to a whimper she almost laughed. 

And, oh, the look on his face. He looked like he’d just stumbled upon the fountain of youth, or the lost city of Atlantis. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered.

This time she did laugh. “They’re just boobs , Jonny.” 

He shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Shh.” He reached out and put a finger on her lips. “Don’t do that. They’re glorious boobs. The most glorious boobs to ever exist.” 

She raised an eyebrow. Deviously. Held him by the wrist, and licked his index finger with the very tip of her tongue. 

His eyes widened. “Oh my god.” He watched her, hungrily, as she eased more of his finger into her mouth. That arched eyebrow, the small, secret smile, the way her tongue swirled — it was permission. Permission to enjoy himself, and her. It was a reminder that what they always did best together was have fun. This was an adventure, and adventure was certainly in his wheelhouse. 

He laughed, and leaned in to taste her neck. He dragged his teeth lightly over her collar bone, and reached out with his right hand to pin her left one to the bed above her head. “ Jess ,” he whispered, and he pressed himself against her with a moan, thrilling with the fact that he could feel her smooth stomach against his, that she liked it so much she released his finger and let out a gasp. 

Feeling him, hard and urgent and desperate, sent her spinning. He felt so good, and the best part of it all was that he couldn’t get enough of her. She had never been seduced like she was treasure, never savored with this much awe.

He brought his hand down to fill it with her soft breast, letting his fingers brush over the nipple, then squeezing it lightly. He brought it to his mouth, and Jessie’s back arched again. 

“Holy shit. ” It came out as a frantic sigh, and she reached up, tangling her fingers into his messy blonde hair. “Jonny,” she panted, “Jonny, please .” 

He came up for air, unpinned her arm. Flashed her a smile. “You doing okay, Ace?”

“Uh, yeah,” she laughed. Jesus , he was charming. “I’m just… ready. ” Jessie blinked. “You know?” 

He nuzzled her neck, practically purring like a cat. Or a lion. “Are you trying to rush me here?”

“No, I —” 

Jonny’s finger was tracing a line down from her chin, through the valley between her breasts, past her belly button. “Because I don’t work like that.” His hand dipped beneath the black silk of her underwear, and Jessie’s heart stopped. She could have sworn her heart stopped, skipped a thousand beats as he parted her, found her warm and wet, and smiled again. 

“Not quite.”

“ What?”

He hooked his fingers in all that lace and silk and slid her underwear down her legs, tossed them somewhere into the room behind him. His lips started just above her knees, small kisses that somehow seemed chaste, despite where he was headed. When he reached her thighs his heartbeat reminded him that this is where his hands were, out on the beach just hours ago, when he couldn’t imagine he’d ever be here, drowning in her like this. 

The knowledge that she’d been mistreated, led to believe she needed to be smaller in any way, kept trying to elbow into his brain, but he did his best to transform that rage into determination, a mission to make sure Jessie knew she was the ultimate fucking goal.  

She was trembling. She was looking up, out into the moonlight, her chest heaving, her fingers woven through his hair again. He had a mind to turn her trembling into something much louder. 

And then his mouth was on her. Her hips bucked slightly, her spine lifted in surprise, but he was along for the ride. Long, languid movements melted into quick flicks of his tongue and back again, and he moaned with the taste of her. 

She was thrilled to be tingling again, to feel like stardust the way she did on the beach. Each stroke he made was worship, the pressure and pace proof that he knew her to her bones, and she would be damned if she had to wait a moment longer to have him inside her.

She took a gentle fistful of his hair, gave it a tug. He lifted his head so she could see his eyes, sparkling and lust-drunk, and he brought both of his hands up to her waist, gripping her right at the middle of her slight, hourglass frame. 

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m not ready, Hotshot.” She took his hands, pulled them up to her breasts. “I know what I want.” 

In the time it takes a heartbeat to make way for the next, they were face-to-face — his icy eyes searching hers, her mouth, cheekbones, the way her eyebrows were raised the smallest bit, as if in surprise she didn’t want to admit to. He was memorizing every centimeter, every breath that panted quietly from her lips. 

Jessie tried to maintain that same, searing eye contact, but couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back as she lifted her hips and let him in . He planted a hand above her head, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He eased back down, settling into her like he’d been gone for ages, and was finally home. A decadent sigh raced out of her as his hips started rocking slowly in time with hers. She was astonished at the way his body moved — all of him, working with such deliberate effort, such athletic control, ensuring that they were touching in all the right places, and that he was getting as much of her as he possibly could. 

Jonny was, in a word, ecstatic. The surprise of it all, followed by the agonizing anticipation, and finally, the sounds that were coming out of her mouth, the way she looked at him, the way she moved, the way he knew her rhythm simply because he knew her… he was, without a doubt, as thrilled, as happy as he thought he could ever be. 

They moved with an increasing urgency, her hands relishing any skin she could get her fingertips on, her heart speeding up with every thrust. She felt like she was running up a cliff, desperate to dive off, to freefall, to be taken by the wind.

And he was running with her. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and gave her what she wanted, what she was begging for with her starved, insatiable gaze. Deep and fast and unrelenting, he took her with him, filling the room with her name, reeling with the animal cry that was ripped from her lips.

Jonny fell onto her in a heap, his shoulders heaving. 

Jessie sighed underneath him, luxuriating in his warmth, his weight, his ragged breaths.

They would lie there as long as they could, and they would come to each other again before the sun came up. 

There was no hurry. 

In the moonlight, they had all the time in the world. 

Chapter Text

Jessie had read hundreds of books that mentioned the “sunlight filtering in” through the windows in the morning, and had always thought it was just another overused phrase. She would also never admit to how many romance novels she’d actually read, but that was neither here nor there. And it probably was — an overused phrase that is —  but , as her eyelids fluttered open, it was the only word she could think of. 

She hadn’t slept this late in… years? Seriously? She thought, horrified at herself, as per usual. She was always up before the sun decided to do any kind of filtering, and was long-buried in work by the time it did. 

That morning, though, she could see the dust particles in the air, and could see actual beams of sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains of the guest room. It felt pretty magical. She felt pretty magical. When was the last time she stayed up that late, without looking at the clock, without thinking about getting up early to exercise? 

She stretched luxuriously, arms up until her fingertips bumped the wooden headboard, her legs down and out until her toes grazed the skin of the man lying next to her. She pulled her legs back quickly, not wanting to wake him up. Suddenly self-conscious — even though she knew that was ridiculous — she pulled the blanket up over her bare chest, tucking it under her arm. 

Jonny hadn’t woken up, but she could tell he was stirring, and took the moment to watch him. His hair was disheveled, some of it stuck to his skin with sweat. She smiled at that thought, knowing she was responsible for that heat. She took in his jawline, solid and angular and absolutely delicious, and let her gaze slide down, down past his chest, past his stomach to where the sheets rudely covered up the rest of him. 

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of the night before, as she remembered hearing her name on his lips, and how she couldn’t wait to convince him to say it again. Maybe even all day long. They could order delivery, and he could say something like, “Pizza can wait, I’m hungry for something else,” and then show her, again, how much he absolutely needed her. 

He was gorgeous — golden and kind and holy hell , very skilled… and he’d been desperate for her. That felt good.

He was the polar opposite of Mark, who was only desperate for her, suddenly, once she took herself out of his equation. Had he ever been desperate for her? Maybe. She could barely remember the times when she was excited to see him, so maybe that was her fault, too.

She rested her chin in her hands, lying on her stomach, watching his chest rise and fall. She stared hungrily at his lips — they were slightly parted, slightly chapped. They’d been so soft, a smooth peachy pink, the night before, but it looked like she’d… roughed them up a bit. She sighed and flopped onto her back. 

Even though she’d just woken up, her heart rate felt obscene. She had enjoyed herself so much , and with someone who meant so much to her. It had all just clicked .  

She couldn’t take it anymore, she needed to have her skin touching his, so she slid over to Jonny, nestling into the crook of his arm, dragging her fingers over his abs. She shivered, and so did he. 

Jonny had been sleeping hard , but her warm skin, her fingers over his stomach — she pulled him through the haze and into the morning. 

His eyes fluttered open, and his arms instinctively circled around her, his body curving into hers like a puzzle piece. She smelled like sleep, if that’s a thing. It had to be, because she smelled like it. Her hair was tangled from the seawater, sure, but it was still breathtaking in the sunshine. She was warm and soft and she fit perfectly into him, her left leg snug between his, her hand on his chest. He reached up and placed his hand at the base of her neck, gently pressing into it, walking his fingers up to her hair and back down again in a quick little massage. She sighed, and he pulled her face to his in a slow, lazy kiss. It all felt like a dream, but he’d never had a dream as good as this. 

A tiny thought, like a fruit fly buzzing, crept into the back of his thoughts. Dreams never last. You always wake up.

He nuzzled his face into her hair, suddenly anxious to memorize her smell, to emblazon the way she felt into the recesses of his mind. His body felt warm and satisfied and, to be honest, a little sore, but his mind was starting to work, building friction and a slow, unsettling heat. He was anxious, he was worried, and god she felt great. It was all very confusing. 

He’d just had sex with Jessie. Twice. Plain and simple. Jessie Bannon. Jessica Lynne Bannon, Race Bannon’s daughter, one of his oldest, best friends. She was naked and incredible and she looked downright dreamy. She smiled at him, she purred, she whispered, “Hey, good morning,” and she seemed to be interested in bumping their count up to three times. 

He was, too, obviously. But. 

His chest felt tight, and the moonlight was gone. Things looked a whole lot less like his entire life depended on finding out how she tasted, and a whole lot more like decisions and choices and futures and feelings.

But… her hands were in his hair. He mumbled, “Mmm. Morning, Jess.” He leaned in and kissed her, let his hands lazily rove over her absolutely naked body, rolled on top of her to try to distract himself into a more pleasant kind of frenzy. “Jessie.” He had to say her name, but hearing it come out of his mouth like that scared the shit out of him. “Jessie.” Again. 

“Yeah?” She took his face in both her hands. Looked him in the eyes, tried to silently convey to him how happy she was that she’d found what she’d been missing. Him. 

He heard her loud and clear, and was this close to admitting the same about her, even though it was terrifying, and complicated, and terrifying.

But the doorbell rang. His head jerked out of her hands, and he tried to crane his neck enough to look out the window. Jessie scrabbled her hands back up to his face, tried to pull him back to her. Her heart had just dropped into her guts. She just wanted to feel his lips on hers one more time before reality crashed into her lap. 

And the doorbell rang and rang and rang and rang. The chime was punctuated by knocking. And yelling. 

“What the…?” Jonny rolled off of her. 

No kiss. Damnit. She sighed. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

“Jonny, no. Please, just don’t. He’ll go away eventually.” 

He sat straight up, turned to her. His eyes were wide in a look that made her stomach churn. He was horrified.  

“Oh. Oh, my god,” he murmured, raking his hands over his face, through his hair. His thoughts were awful, painful, they made him want to throw up. “That’s him ? That’s Mark?”

“Probably.” Resigned, she crawled up to the window and looked down. Sure enough, there was Mark, still wearing his clothes from the day before and looking bedraggled. He was pacing back and forth, angry. Upset. Is he crying? She pressed her forehead against the glass, and sighed again. At this point she just felt like one, giant, heavy sigh. She knew she should probably be nervous, or full of dread or guilt, but she was just tired. She wanted him to leave. She turned around and sat back down on the bed. Jonny had already pulled his underwear back on and was shuffling into his jeans. 

“Wha— no, don’t do that. Why are you doing that?”

“Jess, are you kidding me?”

“No! We were — it was nice, we were having a nice time!”

His black shirt crumpled in his hand, Jonny stopped to stare at her. Enough, Quest, he thought. Grow up. “We just fucked,” she winced at that, and he felt bad, but he couldn’t make the words stop coming out of his mouth. “ hours after you got proposed to by another guy. A guy you were with for two years. ”

He might as well have punched her in the stomach. That tone in his voice, his language —  he was ashamed. He was disgusted with himself. For sleeping with her. Tears raced to her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks. 

“It’s not like I said yes, Jonny! In fact I distinctly remember saying no as many times as I possibly could.” She gathered up the sheets under her arms. She was in his house, or at least where he was staying anyway. Hers was across the driveway, a few steps away from where Mark’s car was parked. How was this going to work? Who was going to storm out of the house, and where were they going to go?

“Jesus, your relationship isn’t even cold yet and I just, I just… danced all over its grave.” 

“Alright.” She threw the blankets off of herself and swung her feet over, planting them on the floor. “Stop it. You’re freaking out. We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Are you kidding me?” He asked again. Swallowed thickly as he took in how naked she was. Shook his head. “Does he even understand that it’s really over between you two? Is it really over between you two?” 

“Yes! ” She must have been louder than she thought, because the yelling from outside stopped abruptly, then got more frantic. “Jonny, as far as I could tell, you were pretty explicit last night about both of us being in our right minds. I hear that tone in your voice — don’t you dare turn this around and put it all on me.”

“I — ah, shit, Jessie, I just feel terrible.” 

Something about that sentence struck a match in her chest. How many times would she have to tell the men in her life that she knows what the hell she’s talking about?

“Stop it!” She ripped the shirt out of his hand and threw it on the floor. “Do you know what that sounds like to me? That you feel terrible about sleeping with me? ” She started crying a little on that sentence; she couldn’t help it. “I told him no and I told you yes and why won’t anyone trust that I know what I want?”

“Because you don’t. ”

The blood stopped moving through her veins, just for a beat. “Excuse me?” 

He bent over to pick up his shirt, pulled it on over his head. “You used to know exactly what you wanted.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He grunted, turned around, and stepped out of the guest room, trying to gather his thoughts. Which was hard to do with the doorbell ringing relentlessly.

“I cannot believe you are just walking away from me!” She stormed after him, without a thought in the world for finding her clothes. “I cannot believe you are suddenly feeling sorry for him, taking his side.” She stood at the top of the stairs and watched him jog down them.

“I’m not, I’m not taking his side. I— “

“Last night, and I’m going to quote you on this because I don’t know about you but last night was a big deal to me!” She yelled it. Really yelled. 

The knocking stopped, so did the doorbell. Shit. A muffled “Jessie?” came from outside. 

She lowered her volume, but not her intensity. “Last night you said you could kill him.” She pointed toward the door. “And now, you’re telling me that you feel sorry for him?”

He was self-destructing. His thoughts were falling down, one by one, like a serpentine of dominoes laid out in his brain. He’d forgotten about that — how could he have forgotten about that? “Jessie, no. Fuck that guy, that’s not what I mean. It’s just, I could have waited. We could have waited. I don’t like what I know about him, but two years? It’s so soon, you’ve got a lot to process, you know?” He paced around a bit, then made a beeline to the kitchen to find his shoes. When he found them by the sliding door, he stared at them, remembered kicking them off, remembered the rush of lust in his ears like angry ocean surf. Damnit. He looked up at her, still naked, standing at the base of the staircase. He mumbled something she couldn’t hear. 

“I didn’t catch that,” she quipped, and started to cross into the kitchen. 

“I said that there’s stuff between us, Jess. You and me. Stuff I would have talked about if, if—” 

Jessie had never really understood the phrase “seeing red.” It made sense figuratively, of course, but she’d never before felt like her entire field of vision had been lit on fire, like she could shoot flames straight out of her eyeballs. “If you hadn’t kissed me until I was dizzy? If you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to sober me up specifically so you didn’t feel guilty in the morning?” She closed the gap between them. “What was the point of that?” she put her hands on his chest, shoved him back. “Huh? If you were just going to be disgusted by yourself no matter what?”

“I never said I was disgusted! Jessie, it was incredible.” Oh god . He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what he was thinking.

“Oh well, good, that’s good to know. Jesus , Jonny. What is wrong with you? What stuff is there between us?” 

This was not the time for it, he knew. She was still stark naked, her ex-boyfriend was still outside — he could see the guy’s silhouette pacing back and forth through the frosted glass of the front door. It was like a daytime soap opera — absolutely ridiculous. But, when was he ever going to get to say this to her? He didn’t see a future full of honest chats ahead of them. 

“I miss you, Jessie. I miss the old you.”

Her rage winked out, like someone had put a glass dome over a flame. She blinked at him. She suddenly remembered she was naked. She wished she knew where she’d thrown Lawr’s fancy robe. “Huh?”

“You’ve never visited me. Not once. And we were going to go everywhere , do you remember? You and me and Hadj. And we were going to go where we chose , on our terms, not where our dads’ work took us.”

“Jonny, I—”

“Please, let me talk.” Jonny needed her to put on clothes. There was a coat rack near the sliding door, so he pulled a long jacket off one of the hooks, handed it to her. She put it on, silently. 

“I love you. Okay? And I know that’s a weird thing to say right now, but I don’t mean it like that. ”

That was rough. That one hurt, because in the filtering sunlight, half-asleep, she had thought that, just maybe, she did mean it like that. Surprise, surprise, Bannon. Wrong again.

“You were literally my life for a while — you and Hadji and Race and Dad and,” his voice hitched for a second, but he recovered quickly. “And Bandit.” 

Damnit . Jessie sucked in a breath. She missed that dog, too. 

“And then, Dad asked you to take his place at work,” his voice was laced with a bitter edge. “and then you stopped going on trips, you stopped asking me about what I was doing at work… you just stopped. I don’t even remember when you stopped calling me. You used to call, you used to check in. You used to give a shit. Now you just... you just stay here. In Maine, hiding behind your desk while your dreams rot into oblivion. Our dreams.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She was angry at him, she was hurt, she was angry at herself. She sighed, met his eyes.

“Jonny, that’s — that’s not fair. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Christ, Jessie, I did. I just gave up so long ago you clearly don’t even remember.” 

She shook her head. “Alright, fine. You’re right. I owe you explanations. Can’t it just be that? Can’t we just take today to talk? I’ll make the coffee this time, we can hash it out.” She took a step closer, the taste of him curling like smoke around her memory. She reached out, tugged on his t-shirt gently. 

You’re weak. A weak, weak idiot , he thought, as he let her pull him to her. His hands slipped underneath the coat, just to her waist, but even that was more than he should have.

She moved in to him, as close as she could. Looked up and into his eyes. “Can’t this be a detour? Instead of a full-on road block?”

The tense silence was interrupted by a scraping noise outside the door. Mark was moving potted plants around, like a crazy person, probably looking for a key. More proof that he had no idea who she really was or what her life was like. The Quest compound was not a “key under the flower pot” kind of a place. She groaned. Reached up, and touched Jonny’s lips lightly, kissed him sweetly. He kissed back. “Please, just wait here, okay?” 

She stomped over to the door and ripped it open. Jonny stepped abruptly further back into the kitchen, out of view. He didn’t want to be seen, but more than anything, he didn’t want to know what Mark looked like, didn’t want to be able to envision anguish on the guy’s face. 

“I said I’d call you Mark.” 

“And how was I supposed to know that would actually happen, huh? You left me at the restaurant. You won’t answer the phone, you won’t talk to me. What can I do? ” 

Jonny felt like vomiting all over again. The guy’s voice was strained and gruff, like he’d been crying. 

He couldn’t do it. He’d drive to Tina’s, find Duke, tell him the plans had changed, and he’d get his stuff another time. There was a lot going on in his brain, but the loudest thing was a voice, screaming at him to get the hell out of there. 

He inched backward, quietly, toward the sliding doors, and slipped out into the daylight. 

Mark’s tears, his ragged voice, it all just made her want to scream. She tried to scrape the depths of her soul, tried to pry out some empathy, but she came up empty handed. “So you can cry?” She snapped. “You, who would never cry, not even on our wedding day, if we ever got married?”

“Jessie, what did I do wrong? What can I do to fix it?” 

There was that desperation, too little, too late. The fact that the same question, what can I do to fix it, was on the tip of her tongue, reserved for someone else, softened her rage just enough for her to find some kindness in her voice. 

“I owe you an apology, Mark.”

“It’s okay — the restaurant, I mean. It’s fine.”

“No, god , I mean, I’ve been lying to you for a long time. I’m not happy. With us, anymore. I haven’t been for a long time and I should have said something a long time ago. That’s awful of me, and I’m — I’m so sorry.” There was that emotion she’d been looking for. Tears were sliding down her face, and she felt like shit, but she also felt free. 

Wow. Honesty. Who’d have thought.

Mark’s voice, however, turned hard. She hadn’t been expecting that. He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t believe you.” 

“What?”

“Why are you wearing a coat in the house?” 

“I— it was the closest thing to me. That’s not important.” 

She heard a car door slam on the other side of the house. A thin layer of frost started to spread throughout her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re naked under that? In the Quest’s house, not yours?”

“Mark, please leave. I’ll get you all your stuff later today. I will talk to you about this. I will, but I’m not ready, and that’s why I told you to wait for me to call you. ” 

His jaw dropped, and he stared at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “So that’s it? Two years, and that’s—” 

The crunch of gravel cut him off. A silver Mercedes pulled around the front of the house from the garage area, and sped down the driveway. The windows were down, and the driver’s blonde hair shuddered in the wind, fully visible from where they stood. 

Mark turned back to her slowly. Jessie braced herself. 

“Wow.” 

“Mark, it’s—”

“I always wondered, and now I know.”

“ No , it’s not like that at all. ” 

“Have a nice life, Jessica. I’ll want that ring back with the rest of my stuff.” He backed away from her. “It’s a good thing I kept the receipt.”

***

Back to the Present

Jessie’s scream ricocheted off the cliffs below them. Her shoulders were heaving, and she’d dropped the hoverboard in the grass. She didn’t turn, didn’t look at him, didn’t say a word. She stared out at the moon, sucking in deep gulps of breath.

Jonny did not say anything. He’d done plenty of stupid things in his life, but trying to talk to someone who had just primal screamed their guts out into the ether was not going to be one of them.

Truthfully, he was happy to not be talking. His heart was still pounding, the vision of Jessie leaping over the ravine still flashing in his mind. Part of him felt like he should have been impressed by it, and he was, in hindsight, even if he felt like taking her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her. 

But none of that mattered. She was fine, and he’d yelled at her, and he felt like shit about it. He knew it was high time she yelled at him. 

She looked away from the moon and turned back to him. Tears made tracks down her face, and her voice was rough, like she’d been yelling over a party all night. “I said, ‘just wait here.’ I said please . And you left.”

He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. She wasn’t yelling at him — he really, really wished she would yell at him; he’d prepared himself to navigate through her anger, not her broken heart. 

“I did.”

“After Mark left, I had to clean everything up. All the dishes, the coffee grounds, the guest room. I couldn’t find my shoes. And everything just hurt. Seeing all your stuff in your room, knowing you’d just left it there. Somehow, I knew you weren’t coming back. Knew you’d rather replace all of your luggage than have to look at me.” 

The smart thing would be to say, That’s not true, Jessie, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She was right. She was right.

“You’re right.” 

“I’m — what?” Her hands hung at her sides, and she chewed at her bottom lip. “You were really so traumatized by sleeping with me, that you bolted, halfway across the world, just to get away?”

Jonny sighed, bent over and picked up her hoverboard. He took both his and hers and laid them gently up against the keeper’s house. There was dew on the grass, and he wasn’t looking to get in trouble with his dad, on top of everything else.

He ran a hand through his hair, and Jessie exhaled, annoyed. She could watch him run his hands through his hair all damn day, and that was… annoying. 

“I want to get something through to you. I want there to be absolutely no question here that I’m telling the truth, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh...kay. I’m listening.”

“Can I touch you? Without you punching me in the face, or clawing out my eyeballs? Even if I deserve it?” 

She stared at him, skeptically.

“Actually, you can totally punch me in the face if you want; just let me say what I need to say.” 

All she wanted was for him to touch her. All she wanted was to punch him in the face. Or claw out his eyeballs. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

His fingertips tingled. He’d sneaked a few brushes here and there; a thumb over her hand, his leg against hers, but there was that permission again. It lit him on fire. 

Her brain felt like someone had stuffed it full of static electricity. The surf sounded louder behind her. The waves were crashing, the seagulls were relentless. The moon wouldn’t shut up.

Jonny took a few steps closer to her and held out his hands, palms up. She put her hands in his. 

“I’ve got a lot to say to you, Jess, and I have a feeling most of it’s going to piss you off. So I want to say this before I say anything else.” He didn’t get any closer to her, but he squeezed her hands, burned his gaze into hers. “I am not traumatized by having sex with you. I’m not disgusted by the fact that it happened. And even though I ran halfway across the world afterward, sometimes it’s all I can think about. The minute you walked into my dad’s office this morning I remembered how your skin tasted like salt from the ocean, and I still can’t get that fucking Stevie Nicks song out of my head.” 

It felt like the edges of her heart were cracking. She’d wanted to hear a lot of things out of his mouth — apologies, groveling, an incredible story about a three year emergency that explained it all away — but this was what she’d been secretly terrified of: that it was her . That he regretted it. That if he could go back in time, he’d take the whole thing back. “It was Fleetwood Mac,” she whispered. 

“I have never felt like that, Jess. Not before you, and not after you. It was like... magic . You were magic, and I’m —” Oh god. His throat was getting tight, and he sounded like a junior high drama student, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re anything less than that.” 

She broke for a few seconds. She let some tears fall down her cheeks, watched him lift her left hand up to his lips and let him kiss her palm, lightly, like the flutter of someone’s eyelashes. She sifted through the knowledge that one of her biggest fears wasn’t true, and felt a new heat build itself through her relief. 

Jonny saw her eyes take on a harder edge, and he set his jaw. “Okay.” He let her hands slide out of his.

“So, then, if that’s the case, why ? If you’re not disgusted by me, but you also couldn’t look at me , then what?”

“Okay. Okay, so,” he took a deep breath. “This is… not great, okay? I get it. You’d think after three years I’d have a better explanation, but all I’ve got is that I panicked. I panicked and I ran away and then I was so ashamed about running away but… I was so confused by what happened, and what it might mean for our friendship… and I took the easy way out.” He stopped for a moment, searched her face. “I stayed away so I wouldn’t have to talk about it, and so I wouldn’t have to see this exact look on your face. And it all felt bigger and worse and more unforgivable with each year that went by.”

Her emerald eyes flashed. She wanted to wring his neck. She wanted to shove him off the cliffs. Her fingers felt numb. 

“That’s it ? That’s all you’ve got?”  

“It was a lot , Jessie! I felt terrible for that guy, even though I totally wanted to throttle him. And I was scared shitless by what we’d done, you know? I mean, you’d just told me you’d turned down a dude you’d been with for two years and I was like ‘Hey why don’t I comfort her and then lay her down by the fire, ’ I mean what in the hell was going through my head?”

“And all of those awful things you said to me before you left? How you missed the old me, how who I am now just doesn’t cut it?”

He held a hand up. “I did not say that. Not exactly. But that’s what’s gonna piss you off — you’ve been dealing with shit I know nothing about, and I’m sorry I wasn’t someone you could talk to about it.” 

“But?”

“But something is missing in you, Jessie! I’m not going to pretend there’s not.” There were tears in his eyelashes. He blinked them away. “Something is not okay and you’re so obviously miserable.”

“I’m —”

“You used to be obsessed with life — you’d learn as much as you could about everything so that you could conquer it, you know? And now, now you’re —” He held his hands out again, this time grasping for words that wouldn’t dig him an even deeper hole. 

“ Terrified. ” She sounded gutted; her voice was hollow and resigned. “I’m terrified of everything, Jonny.” She took a breath in through her nose, let it slowly out of her mouth. She noted the cries of the seagulls, the smell of Jonny’s body wash, the cold air on her skin. “Well, I’m getting better. I was terrified of everything. Now I’m just terrified of most everything.” She shrugged, sent him a half-hearted smile. “I think back to all of the things we used to do as a family, and I feel like I watched it all play out on a tv show once, a long time ago.”

“I want to help.” He tried to reach for her hands again, but she stepped back. 

“You don’t get to help, Jonny. You ran away.” She walked over to the hoverboards and grabbed hers. She flipped the switch and watched thoughtfully as she let go of it over the ground. “I can understand your panic, I guess, but it doesn’t really feel forgivable right now.” 

She stepped onto the board, dipping with it for a moment before it stabilized. “You know, I never got to tell Mark the real reasons I ended things with him. I never got to say, ‘Hey, you made me feel like shit, and like I’d never be good enough, and I’ve been over you for months ,’ because he watched you drive off. He saw me naked under a coat and he watched you peel out of the driveway, and he never talked to me again.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology. I can’t blame you for all of that.” She looked out at the ocean again, let the wind sift through her hair. “If you would have just stayed with me, we could have figured it out. We used to be good at talking about the heavy stuff, when it really mattered.” 

“I know. I’m sorry, Jessie.” 

She turned back, breezed over until she was only a foot away from him. “I really want to go on this trip. It’s important that I do, for so many reasons. So, let’s just try existing around each other, okay? I’d love to hear about work from you , instead of from a report.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry I stopped calling, stopped checking in on you.” 

Jonny sucked in a breath. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted an apology from her. “That’s all I want, Jess. I just want to exist around you.” 

“Hmm.” She gave him a mock salute, and glided off to the main house.

She took the bridge this time. 

Chapter Text

Waking up in his old room was always a trip. 

Jonny was never much of a poster kid; his walls weren’t plastered with band photos or ladies in bikinis. He did have a full-sized poster of Agent Scully hanging in his closet, but he would swear until he died that that was different . Scully was on a whole other level, as far as he was concerned.

He did, however, keep mementos of all their past travels, sticking them strategically on his walls. Tickets, shredded pieces of wetsuit fabric, hotel notebook paper, even candy wrappers. All the memorabilia, and Scully, had gotten destroyed with the rest of the compound, of course. But he remembered all of it. He may not have been the sharpest crayon in their box of scientist-adventurers, but he was certainly the most sentimental, and he’d learned to be okay with that. Mostly. 

Even though his body could have lain there for another two days, his brain wanted caffeine. So he threw the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. He pulled a pair of sweatpants over his boxer briefs and trudged down to the kitchen, toward the seductive smell of coffee and fried potatoes. 

His hunger faltered, though, when he realized the only other person awake was Lawrence, standing over the stove and humming quietly to himself. Jonny stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to decide if he could make an escape without being noticed. So, of course, he had to sneeze. And he did. 

Lawrence turned abruptly. He smiled. “Jonny! Good morning, hon.” He knitted his eyebrows, and stopped stirring the eggs for a moment. “Buddy? Kiddo? Buckaroo? What in the hell should I call you?”

Jonny’s unease started to melt away. His dad had married a good guy, who was apparently nice to people even when they acted like total jackasses to him. He moved toward the kitchen island and pulled out a stool. 

“Morning, Lawrence.” Of course, he had a briefly dizzying moment about the island, the stool. The usual sweaty, urgent flashback that always happened when he was in that kitchen. But it passed. “I don’t… know. Jonny is fine.” He thought for a moment. “Is it weird that I don’t mind ‘hon’?” 

Lawr grinned, a beaming, radiant smile that shone from over his trim beard. “Absolutely not. Get yourself some coffee before you sit down. I bought Snickers flavored creamer after your dad told me you were coming home.” 

“ Snickers? That’s a thing? Holy crap.”

“Oh, Jonny, you’ve been out in the middle of nowhere for too long.”

“That’s no joke, Lawrence.” He squeezed in between his stepdad and the fridge to get to the cupboard. “Have you had any coffee yet?”

“I have, but I’ve already decimated it. I’d love a refill.”

Jonny carefully put a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. “Sure thing.” 

Startled, Lawrence jumped slightly at his touch. The last time Jonny had shown him anything resembling affection, it had been a quick, awkward hug at the Quest’s wedding. Always quick, though, he reached up and gave the nervous hand a squeeze. 

Jonny smiled, and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. Of course it turned out to be the same mug he’d chosen three years ago. Why wouldn’t it be? He shook that from his head and opened the fridge, elated to find a bottle of actual Snickers-flavored coffee creamer sitting on the top shelf. 

“Oh man, oh man, it’s for real!” He snatched the bottle from the fridge and plopped it onto the kitchen island, opened it up, and pulled the seal off with his teeth. Lawrence gaped at him in feigned horror. Mostly feigned.

“I’d ask if you were raised by wolves, but then I’d have to admit that I married one.” 

Jonny laughed genuinely at that, and glugged the creamer into his mug, which he took a quick sip out of, just to try it out. The look on his face had Lawrence joining him in laughter. “Your dad wasn’t kidding; you are easy to please. You’d think you’d never had flavored creamer before!”

Jonny picked up his mug and grabbed Lawr’s on the way to the coffee pot. “I’ve had flavored creamer, but they hadn’t started in on actual candy bars until after I left! If Dad wouldn’t insist on such remote locations all the time, I’d probably be taking baths in this stuff by now.” He filled up their mugs and set Lawr’s by the stove. 

“Thanks, Jonny.” 

“No problem. Thanks for making breakfast, Lawrence. Can I do anything here?” 

Lawr patted him on the cheek. “You can start calling me Lawr and sit down with your liquid candy bar while I serve you some breakfast to go with it. People should be waking up soon, and who knows what you all have ahead of you.”

Jonny nodded. “Yeah, this should be interesting.”

Lawr took a moment to sip his coffee with his free hand. “I hate to see Benton and all of you frolic off to Nova Scotia so soon after we got the band back together, but I know Angelica has been in the back of his mind. Festering. You know how he gets.”

“Yeah. The back of his mind is never nearly as quiet as he thinks it is.” 

Lawr pointed at him with the steaming spatula before putting it back in the pan. “Ain’t that the truth.” 

Warmth was spreading from Jonny’s chest, reaching out to his fingers and toes, forcing a grin to his face. This was… so nice . He’d been such a jackass. 

“Lawr, I’ve been such a jackass.” 

Lawrence turned around from the stove to place a plate on the island. He wiped his hands on the orange half-apron he was wearing, and looked up at Jonny, expectantly. 

“I know that it was a ‘big change and it’s natural to feel uprooted,’ blah blah blah. I know that, but I should have processed through all of that a long-ass time ago and just been supportive . I’ve missed so much — like this, this is so nice I could just, I don’t know. I’m so mad at myself.” He fiddled with his coffee mug, but didn’t break eye contact. “I’m so sorry, Lawr. I’m sorry for being a jerk, for being so distant. Thank you for making my dad happy. I know I owe him an apology, too.” 

Lawr’s face was calm, but his eyes were sparkling. “Thank you, Jonny. I appreciate that.”

“And, thank you for taking care of me, even when I didn’t realize it. I know you’re the one who buys me ramen, and I guarantee my dad has no idea what my favorite candy bar is. You pay attention, and that’s about the nicest thing anyone can do for anybody, I think.”

His stepdad blotted his misty eyes with the corner of his apron. “Of course.” He slid a pile of eggs and potatoes onto Jonny’s plate, added two triangles of toast, and pushed it all across the island to him. “For the record, it was Jessie who told me you’d like the Snickers creamer better than the Reese’s. Which I do not understand, but candy is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.” 

Jonny’s smile faltered. Lawr raised an eyebrow and leaned in on his elbows. “You don’t, hmm, want to talk about that at all, do you?”

“Not even one single, tiny bit, Lawr.” 

“Well, just know I’m always here for you when you need to talk. Especially if it’s about steamy drama.” 

Jonny’s jaw dropped. Lawr chuckled. 

“Too soon, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I generally need at least one whole cup of coffee before I hear my stepdad use the words ‘steamy drama.’”

Lawr’s eyes got big for half a second before he pretended to zip his lips and turned around to the stove again. Two giant hands squeezed Jonny’s shoulders as a big, Southern-fried laugh filled the kitchen. “Hell, I haven’t seen this sight in a few years! What flavor of Pop Tarts you got this morning, kiddo?” 

Jonny rolled his eyes. “I eat real food now, Race.” 

“Is that so? You got any coffee in that cup over there?” 

“Shut uuuuppp .” Jonny threw his napkin at the smiling bodyguard.

With another laugh, Race strode over to the cupboard and grabbed a mug of his own. He clapped Lawrence on the back, but gently. “Mornin’ Lawr. Smells great. What in the world would we do without you?” 

“Good morning, you smooth talker.” Lawrence elbowed him and piled more food onto a plate. Race snatched it up and moved to a stool next to Jonny, just as the front door opened explosively. 

A blur of neon green and blue burst into the room and made a beeline for the kitchen. The phrase, “Uncle! Jonny!” was followed immediately by a high-pitched squeal, and Jonny felt his heart soar into the rafters. 

Rachel Singh was a five-year-old, bespectacled whirlwind. Her caramel skin looked like it was glowing from the inside out, and her two short pigtails sprouted from the crown of her head like radish tops. She took a flying leap and landed on Jonny’s back, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso like an octopus. 

Out of all the things he was unsure of in his life, Jonny’s reflexes were not one of them; he’d been ready by the time the first squeal left her mouth. He jumped up off the chair and, to Rachel’s utter delight, neighed like a horse. 

Her giggles filled the room, and he charged off into the den, galloping around furniture and laughing along with his niece. 

Hadji and his wife, Jenna, filed in through the open door, and Jonny really thought he might just explode. He was back, for good this time, and the people he loved were here. He made his way back toward the kitchen with Rachel in tow, so that he could plant a friendly kiss on Jenna’s cheek. 

She smiled at him with glee, and threw her arms around Jonny’s neck. She still always caught him off-guard — she was loud, boisterous, and her hair was never the same color as it was the last time he saw her. This time it was short, layered, and bright green. She wore a floral dress that hit her mid-thigh, and black combat boots that looked like they’d been two-day shipped straight from 1996. “I am so, fricking, pumped that you’re back, Jonny!” She put her hands on his cheeks and smashed them together so his lips puckered out like a drunk fish. “You are not allowed to leave for that long ever again. If you do, you have to take Rach with you.”

“Yeah! You have to stay here forever because you are my prisoner!” Rachel squeezed him as hard as she could. He cranked his neck toward her. 

“Your prisoner is hungry . Have you had breakfast yet, pipsqueak?”

“No! Did you bring Pop Tarts?”

Race barked out a laugh mid-sip of his coffee, and Jonny groaned. “I thought you were on my side!” He galloped back over to the kitchen island and let her slide down to sit on his stool. Lawrence set a plate of toast in front of her and leaned in to tap her nose with his index finger. 

“Toast!” She turned her focus to her plate as she started gobbling up a triangle of buttered whole wheat. Jonny pulled another stool next to her and dragged his plate back over to him. He leaned in and kissed Rachel on top of the head.

“Ah, I see how it is,” came a warm, rumbling voice from the staircase. “Uncle Jonny comes back and Grandpa is old news.” 

“Grrrrmpa!” Her mouth full of toast, Rachel hopped off the stool and ran to Dr. Quest, whose eyes looked young and thrilled. He scooped her up in a hug and set her back down, patting her on the head before she ran back to the island. “Good morning, Rachel.”

For a few minutes, Jonny just sat there, taking it all in. The food was good, his coffee was sweet, and watching his dad be “Grandpa” stirred something in his chest. Before too long, Duke and Tina showed up, turning up the volume of the room to the same pitch as the night before — comfortable, happy. Home. 

The clinking of dishes stirred him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Lawrence washing a few of the plates that had already been returned. He ruffled Rachel’s pigtails and pushed in his stool. “Lawr, have you eaten yet?” 

“Not yet, but I will! Just getting ahead of the dishes real quick.”

“Let me do that. You sit down with Dad, okay?” 

An exchange of smiles, a questioning look from Dr. Quest. 

Lawrence dried off his hands and grabbed a clean plate for himself. Jonny sighed in contentment as he plunged his hands into the warm, soapy water and found a plate, just like he used to do on the weekends when Mrs. Evans was off. He’d hated it then, of course; high schoolers are rarely excited to do dishes. But this, right now? This was good. He lost himself in the murmur of his family, the clinking of plates and mugs, his niece’s musical chatter, the gurgle of a fresh pot of coffee. 

He didn’t notice the front door opening and closing. 

He did notice the brief hush that came over the group, and the enthusiastic sounds that followed. He grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands and turned to see what caused it.

Jonny was tired of having dramatic reactions to things. He loved an adrenaline rush, sure, but this was getting ridiculous. His skin had erupted into gooseflesh, and he felt dizzy, like he’d gone back in time while scrubbing plates.

Jessie had come into the kitchen, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her hair was long and freshly-dried — lava that ran down her shoulders and back, over her chest. Over her long green tunic that rested atop her tight denim leggings. The shirt was belted at the waist, and she wore thick-soled brown boots. She hadn’t looked like this in — how long? He had no idea. 

He stared at her, and he didn’t say anything. He felt stupid, but he just couldn’t think of what to say. 

“Morning, Jonny.” 

Good morning . Right. “Good… morning. Jess,” he murmured. 

“Are there any potatoes left? I slept in.” She dropped her backpack onto the floor, pushed it up to the wall with her foot. 

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, let me grab you a plate.”

“Thanks.” 

Jonny took one of the plates he’d just dried, and scooped some eggs up from the frying pan. “How hungry are you?” 

She shrugged. “Well, I kind of feel like I’m going to throw up, but it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me away from fried potatoes.” She sent him a half-hearted smile. 

He set the plate down in front of her. “Eat up, Ace. Big day.”

***

The Questor looked just as majestic as it had 10 years ago, when he’d last stepped on its decks. It looked like a mansion on waves, and contained its own lab, kitchen, living quarters, and a handful of smaller water and air craft, just to be even more extra. It floated next to the Quest’s private dock at the base of the cliffs, just waiting to be boarded.

He’d always loved that thing, and he was beyond thrilled to steer it again. 

He looked behind him, watching everyone say their goodbyes to one another. Hadji had Rachel up on his shoulders, resting her cheek on his turban. He wrapped Jenna up in a hug and whispered something in her ear. 

His father and Lawrence were still up at the main house; he could see them on the patio, locked on to one another. His dad seemed so much bigger than Lawr, from far away, and Jonny was struck by the tenderness between them. He turned back toward the Questor; he felt like he was intruding. 

Thankfully, Duke seemed to come out of nowhere, clapping his hand onto Jonny’s shoulder. “Well, buddy, we’ll miss you. Hope you don’t get killed by a ghost or some shit.” 

Jonny laughed. “We’re on the same page there, Duke. Think you can keep this hellion in line, Tina?”

Tina, who had been standing behind Duke, blushed. Jonny laughed even harder at that, and she punched him on the shoulder. “Be safe, Jonny. Don’t do any dumb hero stuff.” 

“God, Tina, do you know how badly I wanna do dumb hero stuff?”

“Well, then I hope you don’t get killed by a ghost or some shit.” She gave him a quick hug and grabbed Duke’s hand. “Come on, Duke. You can help me fold laundry.”

He turned back toward Jonny and wiggled his eyebrows under his aviators. “We’re calling it folding laundry now.” She pulled him away and down the path, rolling her eyes the whole way. Jonny watched them for a moment, then hoisted his duffel bag up and onto his shoulder. Jenna and Rachel were already headed back up to the house, and passed Benton and Jessie on the way. 

“This is very exciting, Jonny!” Hadji was climbing the ramp leading up to the Questor, gesturing urgently at him. “Come on! Get up here!” 

And so he followed, placed his feet on the deck, and took in a deep breath of ocean air. Race was already in the cockpit, getting things ready for departure. 

The two brothers leaned against the deck railing and watched the new-ish people in their lives walk back up to the compound. 

“It will be nice to be just the five of us again, don’t you agree?” 

“I think so, Hadj.” 

“Were you and Jessie able to… come to an understanding?”

“We agreed that we’d like to be able to exist around each other.” 

Hadji sighed, relieved. “Ah. Well that is a fine start, I think.” 

“Thanks for holding us together. I mean, Jess and I have been avoiding each other for a long time, but you were always there, like a rope in a storm, or however the saying goes. We’ve stayed connected, just barely, because of you.”

Hadji chuckled. “You are most welcome, and I’m glad I’m finally getting the credit I deserve.”

They watched quietly as Dr. Quest and Jessie approached the ramp. Benton started up immediately, but Jessie hung back. She was staring down at her feet, which were firmly planted on the ground, her toes just barely butted up against the ramp. It looked like she was taking slow, deep breaths. Hadji and Jonny met each other’s eyes. 

Jonny swallowed. “I think we all should have been paying a lot more attention to what was going on with her.” 

“I agree, my friend.”

Halfway up the ramp, Dr. Quest stopped and turned around. He said something, but they couldn’t really hear it. He held out his hand. Jessie looked at it thoughtfully, nodded at him, and took a deliberate first step onto the ramp. She quickly caught up to Benton and took his hand. 

Both Jonny and Hadji let out a breath at the same time. 

“Oh thank god.” 

“I echo that sentiment.”

Simply existing around someone was a lot harder than it sounded. Jonny’s mind had been racing all morning — what does that even mean? Would she joke around with him? Would it be awkward every time they bumped into each other? What happened when it was just them in a room? 

Would she ever forgive him? 

When Jessie’s feet connected with the deck, she looked up at both of them with a triumphant smile. Benton patted her on the shoulder and headed toward the cockpit to help Race. 

“Hey, guys.” She grinned at Hadji and Jonny, and they grinned back.

“Welcome aboard, Jessie!” Hadji threw his arms around her, lifted her up, and spun her around like he was the lead in a Lifetime original. 

What the hell, why not. Jonny moved in, too, and held his hand up for a high-five. “Way to go, Ace.” 

Her smile didn’t falter, and he breathed out in relief. 

She slapped his hand so hard it stung, and he couldn’t have been happier.

***

The Atlantic was calm, for the most part. Calm enough that Hadji was sleeping soundly on a sofa in the cockpit, and Race was starting to doze while he read a magazine. Dr. Quest was at the lounge table, looking through papers; copies of the research Dr. Olssen had managed to get published, and any other relevant documents Hadji had managed to dig up. 

Jonny was at the helm, enjoying the waves, the cool air, the gentle bobbing that his body had already settled back into. Jessie had gone down into the cabins — she’d said she needed a ‘break from all that sky.’

“Learning anything interesting over there, Dad?” 

Benton looked up at him abruptly, as though he’d forgotten Jonny was in the room. “Ah, yes, actually. I don’t know what it means, but it’s certainly an anomaly.” He selected a document and brought it over to Jonny. “It’s an itinerary from her most recent trip to Nova Scotia, before she settled in at the mansion. She stopped briefly in Scotland, and wrote off the expenses, but there’s nothing in her published work or anything else that would suggest such a stop was necessary.” 

“Maybe she stopped to visit her cousin or something?” 

Benton shook his head. “Angie is nothing if not laser-focused. Since the moment Sam died, I haven’t had a single conversation with her that wasn’t about her paranormal research. I can’t imagine she’d delay her trip to Port Morien for something that wasn’t relevant.” 

“Hmm. Weird.”

His dad chuckled. “Weird indeed, Son.” He put his hand on Jonny’s shoulder. “How is she doing? Have you two talked at all?”

Jonny shook his head. “Huh?”

Benton pointed out the starboard window, to where Jessie was leaning against the railing, staring out over the water. 

“Oh. I didn’t realize she’d come up.” He shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve talked. Not much about what’s going on with her, though. Mostly about… us.”

“Hmm. I’m trying to figure out how to handle her.”

“What do you mean?” 

Benton moved back over to the table to replace the paper, and glanced at Race, who was fully asleep now, his chin resting in his hand. 

“I don’t want to treat her like a child, but I don’t want to treat her like we have been, either. Like she can take care of everything on her own. I did that for far too long. Race, too.” 

“Yeah.” He watched her for a moment. “Are you at an okay stopping point? You mind taking over for a bit?” 

“Not at all. I think that’s a good idea.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Jonny shrugged on his hooded sweatshirt, then snagged Jessie’s green jacket from the coat rack and headed up the steps to the deck. 

“I’m coming out,” he said, fairly loudly. 

She turned to him from the railing. “Huh? Oh. Hi.” 

He handed her her jacket, then leaned on the white bar next to her. “You looked pretty zoned out; I didn’t want to startle you into the ocean or something.” 

She smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m just waiting for the sunset. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been on the ocean for one.” 

He nodded, nudged her with his elbow. “Were you thinking about anything good? Like eating a bunch of lobster or something?”

Jessie laughed, shook her head. “Kind of. Reminding myself that I’ve experienced more good things on the ocean than bad.”

“Gotcha.” Jonny stuck a hand out over the water, letting flecks of seawater chill his fingers. “I haven’t forgotten what you said last night — that I missed my chance to be somebody who’s there for you.”

She sighed. It was hard to tell what kind of sigh it was. 

“But, Jess, I’m not gonna stop offering; I can’t help it. You don’t have to take me up on it, but I’m here. I’m back.”

She watched the waves. She didn’t say anything.

“I ditched you once. It’s not gonna happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Not really.” 

That small glimmer of hope fizzled out, like a doused candle. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything else, though. He supposed, since the hostility was gone, all the heat from the night before, maybe the new day had brought a new perspective. Apparently not. 

“Okay. That’s fair.” 

“I’m not mad like I was last night. And I don’t mean to be confusing.” She toyed with the little ring on her right middle finger — a simple, silver Celtic knot. “But I’m confused.” She looked up at him, her hair swaying gently in the breeze. “A lot of my problems come from not being honest with people, Jonny. So,” she sucked in a quick breath. “It hurts to be around you, and it feels good to be around you. And I don’t know what to do with that.” 

“I don’t either.”

The waves lapped against the boat, and were beginning to take on a warm glow. Jessie took a small step to her left, and leaned into him, pressing her arm against his. He resisted the urge to slide his arm around her, to press his lips to the side of her forehead, to fold her into him and wrap her up in his hoodie with him. So he returned the pressure against her shoulder, slid his arm closer on the railing, and curled his index finger around hers.

“I don’t know how it’s gonna go,” he whispered. “But we’ll figure it out, okay?”

The sun had just started to rest on the horizon as the cabin door opened and shut quietly. Their fingers slid apart, and they turned to see Hadji padding toward them in his socks, yawning. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t miss out on a sunset this beautiful.”

“Nah, Hadj,” Jonny let go, put a couple inches of space between him and Jessie, and waved Hadji over. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

The Questor looked obscene pulling into the Port Morien harbor as Hadji navigated it around the breakwater that extended out from the coastline. 

The massive Catamaran, in all its 30-foot-tall glory, towered over the fishing boats, and garnered a healthy amount of attention from the locals. A few people came out of one of the large, red buildings perched on the harbor to get a better look at it. 

The closer they got to the docks, the faster Jessie’s heart beat. The trees were beginning to change; pops of yellow and orange jumped out from all of the green landscape behind the quaint village of Port Morien. They were so close. 

Jessie was giddy .

She’d done it. She’d spent days floating on the ocean, with her family, without dying, and she was about to plant her feet in another country, for the first time in… such a long time. 

Was she embarrassed by how much longer the Questor had taken, compared to the Dragonfly? Definitely. 

But she’d been assured —  by everyone, repeatedly — that they didn’t mind, that it gave them time to prepare. So, she’d finally decided to believe it.

She took a deep breath. The landscape may have looked similar to home, but already she could tell that Nova Scotia felt different. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. It wasn’t really cold , but there was a chill in the air, and she was so amped up she had to find something to do with herself. 

Jonny came up from the cabins with his bag slung over his shoulder. His grin was brilliant, and it made her heart skip a beat. She knew that grin, knew that glint in his eyes — the impending adventure was almost more than he could take. After taking a look around, he made eye contact with Jessie and headed over to her. 

The past few days with him had been predictably… unpredictable. He was definitely letting her take the lead on things, which was both appreciated and frustrating. 

Was she being a hypocrite for being frustrated? 

Absolutely. Which is why she didn’t show it. 

But she’d be lying if she said part of her didn’t want him to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t see straight. 

She could feel him watching her sometimes, and when they were close (sitting on the same bench at dinner, passing one another in the cabins), it was pretty clear that they were both itching to be even closer. 

She’d say she felt like a teenager, but that really wasn’t the kind of teenage experience she’d had. 

So, she felt like a fictional teenager in all the high school movies she’d watched in the ‘90s. Hyper-fixated, dramatic, irrational. It was stupid and she hated it.

He set his bag down on the deck and leaned on the railing next to her. The salty wind was blowing through his hair, his blue eyes matched the sky behind him, and his laugh was easy and musical.

He was beautiful and she hated it.

And she loved it. Jesus.

“Holy shit, Jess.” He flipped his hair around in the air dramatically, like a goofy swimsuit model. “We’re back in action!”

She laughed. “I know! It’s exciting.”

“Right?” He turned to look behind himself, swept the deck and cockpit with his eyes. When he made eye contact with her again, she felt a rush of adrenaline. He was buzzing with anticipation, and he had that reckless look in his eyes. She’d missed that look, even though it usually meant she’d have to clean up some kind of mess later. He reached out and put his hand on her upper arm, gave it a gentle squeeze, rubbed his thumb over her bicep. “I’m so glad you came with us. Seriously. It’s no good without you.”

“Ah— ah, yeah. I’m glad, too.” She sucked in a breath. She was acutely aware of the fact that only one of his hands was on her, and that she’d very much like the other one to increase its participation. If things were different, he could have just pulled her into him — his big, dumb chest pressing against hers — and kiss her for good luck. A christening. She chewed on her bottom lip, giving it something to do that wouldn’t make things more complicated. 

He took another step toward her, slid his hand down her arm, past her wrist, and laced his fingers in with hers. That idle other hand floated up and slid back into her hair, so that his thumb rested gently below her cheekbone. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m here. I mean, we’re here. All of us. We’ve got you.” 

She wanted to tell him to shut up, and that she was fine and could take care of herself… but she was grateful to have everyone there, and ecstatic to know for sure that he’d wanted to touch her just as much as she’d wanted to touch him. 

He exhaled loudly, though, and pulled away. “ Fuck. ” Ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. Fuck.” 

“No — no, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re — you’re all here. I’m glad to be here.”

“I’m just so hyped ! I’m not thinking straight. And you’re all…” He waved his hands at her. “Standing out here with your hair blowing in the wind and… shit .”

She pretended she hadn’t heard the last thing he said, because if she thought too hard about that, she’d pass out. So instead, she laughed. “You know we’re probably going to do an excruciating amount of waiting around, right? A lot of hovering around computers, looking through papers, watching camera footage for hours. ” 

The Questor made contact with the dock, and Jonny’s grin stretched across his whole face. “Nah. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Shit’s gonna get spooky. ” 

Dr. Quest stepped onto the deck, followed by Race and Hadji. The energy was apparent to everyone; they were back in action, and it felt good. 

Race strode over to the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Jonny — good-natured, but definitely curious. He put a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “Benton and Hadji are gonna gather up all the equipment and load it into the rental van. Think you can give them a hand, Jonny?”

This time it was Jonny who raised an eyebrow, but he just followed it with a friendly shrug. He wasn’t about to get in between Race Bannon and his daughter. “Sure thing, Race.” He turned to Jessie and held his hand up for a high-five. She slapped her palm to his with a genuine smile, and resisted the urge to let her hand linger there, nestle her fingers into the spaces between his. “See you out there, Ace.” He winked and practically skipped off to meet up with his dad.

Race cleared his throat. 

Jessie immediately blushed. She must have been staring, and it must have been obvious. She turned back toward him, gently jabbing him with her elbow. “What’s up, Dad?”

Race was leaning on the railing now, looking out at the docks, his hands clasped in front of him. He was a straightforward guy — big on eye contact — but he was avoiding her gaze right now. “So, ah, I’ve been thinking, Ponchita.” 

She backed up into the railing and crossed her arms casually, trying to match his body language, hoping he’d feel comfortable enough to keep talking. Normally she’d do anything she could to avoid serious talks with her dad, but she knew it was time to just settle in. They’d been replacing honest conversations with lovable banter for a few days now and were overdue for a real talk.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Before we dive into this whole ghost extravaganza head first, I’d sure like to spend a little time with you. Just the two of us.”

She smiled at him. Nudged him with her shoulder. 

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee? There’s nothing here in Port Morien, but there’s a cafe in a town up north that looks like it’s got good black coffee and a case full of pastries. I figured that’s your kinda place.”

“You researched coffee shops for me?”

Race pried his eyes from the dock and locked them on hers. “Jessica, I’d do damn-near anything for you.”

She pursed her lips. She knew.

“I know.” 

“Good.” He nodded. “The Doc snagged us a Jeep along with the van, so maybe you and I can stop at the cafe and stock up on groceries when we’re done.” 

Jessie flashed him a delighted smile. “God, when’s the last time you and I went grocery shopping together?”

“Hell,” he smiled back. “I think the last time I took you to the store you were begging me for candy bars before dinner.”

She chuckled. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, Dad. If that’s the criteria, it could have been last week.” 

The drive from Port Morien to the larger city of Glace Bay took them about 15 minutes, and Jessie was relieved to realize that her dad didn’t seem to have any serious conversation plans for the trip. He had taken the top off of the Jeep despite the cool weather, and they had enjoyed the fall colors whizzing by them, with the local classic rock station blaring in their ears. 

The cafe in Glace Bay was busy, and Jessie felt drunk with the bustle of it all. Watching the daily life of people she didn’t know unfold in front of her was almost more than she could take. A group of old regulars in overalls and work boots sat at a table by a dirty picture window, a little girl licked the whipped cream right off the top of her slice of pie, and a cook was whistling Take On Me somewhere back in the kitchen. 

She let herself imagine what their lives were like as she waited for Race to come back to their table. Probably, the old men by the window had been coming to the cafe for years, every day at the same time. And she’d just bet that the little girl’s mom had done the same thing with her whipped cream when she was — 

“This new scenery looks good on ya, Jess.”

She looked up at her dad and grinned. “I don’t know how it looks, but it sure feels good.” He set the butter-yellow plastic tray down on the table and handed her a cup of black coffee and a cinnamon roll. “Before you sit down, can you grab me some half-and-half?”

Race smacked his forehead with his palm. “Oh, yeah. Hold on.” 

She ripped a hunk off the cinnamon roll and sighed with the sweetness of it. Even dessert tasted better here.

It wasn’t long before she had her coffee exactly the right color, a belly full of pastry, and the mental fortitude to have a real, honest conversation with the man who used to know everything about her.

Race was nervous. His fingers tapped rapidly on his ivory diner mug, and he squinted his eyes at her along with his forced smile.

“Dad. What’s up?” 

The corners of his mouth sank back down before he let out a gust of an exhale. “Hell, Jessie, I don’t know when I got scared of talking to you. It ain’t right, and I don’t like it. You used to tell me  everything — you even came to me crying when the New Kids broke up.”

Her cheeks went pink. “Oh my god, I forgot about that.”

She could tell Race wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite bring himself to. “And I remember thinking you deserved someone better than me to help you through something like that, but we ended up making popcorn and watching a movie, and we both fell asleep on the couch.”

Her eyes were stinging. “I remember.”

“It wasn’t perfect, but we figured it out. We were always good at figuring it out.” He fiddled with the checkered tablecloth for a moment, then looked up at her with a broken expression that threatened to rip her guts out. “What did I do to screw that up?”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Dad, you didn’t screw anything up.”

“I gotta say I find that pretty hard to believe. Otherwise why else would you clam up like that? For years?”

Jessie pressed her lips together, leaving a thin line between them. “Dad, I — I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Listen, if there’s something I should feel guilty for, I damn well wanna feel guilty about it.”

She sighed, started folding her napkin, just to have something to do with her hands. “Malenque.”

Race shuddered, visibly. 

“I had just come off of a really… nice visit with Mom. It was definitely weird, but it really was nice. Even out at the dig site, on the weekends, she taught me how to put on makeup, and we’d gone into the city to go shopping. All very stereotypical, all totally out of my comfort zone, but all very… nice. I wish I had a better word for it. It was just nice. Something I had been missing without ever knowing I’d been missing it.” She swallowed. “And then you guys showed up and I got turned into a fricking mummy.”

“Hey, now! That wasn’t our fault.”

“No, I know it wasn’t. And even if you guys hadn’t shown up, there’s no way I could have left it alone. Shit, I probably would have called you and told you to fly down anyway. But, I don’t know, that was the start of it. When I started having problems.”

“Christ, Jessie, that was so long ago. That was 20 years ago.”

“I know.” 

“What do you mean, ‘problems?’”

“The Verne Research Center. You weren’t there for that, and Jonny and I never really told anyone too much about it. It wasn’t pretty.” Her breath hitched. She took a slow, deep inhale. “I had a full-on panic attack. Blubbered, hyperventilated, had an existential crisis all over Jonny, who calmly reminded me that if we didn’t get moving we’d either be crushed and drowned by a bazillion tons of seawater or eaten alive by previously-undiscovered carnivorous amphibians.” A dark chuckle escaped her lips. “Jesus, it’s been a long time since I’ve said that out loud.” 

“I had no idea, Ponchita.”

“You had no reason to, Dad. I didn’t tell you, and Jonny and I sure as hell never talked about it. So I learned how to stave off my attacks until I was alone, or I just… visited Mom if a trip sounded too intense.” 

Damnit. Her chin was quivering. She was thinking about everything she’d missed. About the places she’d wanted to see but had simply… bowed out. About the nights she’d spent on the phone listening to Jonny and Hadji chatter about the adventures they’d gone on without her. 

They’d always called her, though. She made a mental note to try to remember that.

“That’s the thing, though. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She could see the frustration in his clenched jaw, but she could also see the anguish in his eyes, and it crushed her. 

She felt so stupid. Of course, she could have always gone to him, told him she was just… afraid. She’d hurt him, and she’d hurt herself in her isolation.

But something tugged at her. She wasn’t stupid. Her instincts were sharp, and they always had been.

“Dad, I just didn’t want anything to change, you know? I didn’t want to get treated like an ancient teapot or something. I liked feeling capable, like you guys could trust me when things got hairy.”

“Jessie, we wouldn’t —”

“Yes, you would have, Dad. You would have.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You guys always did the thing when it needed to be done, and if you were scared, you just did it scared . I used to do that, too.” She wiped a few tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. “If I would have said, ‘Hey, Dad, so, I hyperventilate in tight spaces now, and it wasn’t like this before but suddenly now it is, and I don’t know why it started or how to stop it,’ then you would have swooped in and saved me. Protected me from the scary stuff.”

“Absolutely I would have.”

“And then things would have changed.”

Race was struggling, she could see it. She knew him best — well, she used to anyway — and she could tell when his better judgement was duking it out with his less-rational instincts. He reached out with the hand that wasn’t clutching his coffee and closed hers in his giant fingers. 

“Jessie. Jess, I’m not gonna pretend I get it, because god damnit, I don’t. I still don’t understand why you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about this.” He realized how hard he was clutching her hand and immediately eased up, releasing it after a gentle squeeze. He leaned back in his chair, took a slow sip of coffee. “But, I also understand that I’ve never been a teenage girl living in a house full of reckless cavemen. I don’t know what that felt like from your side of the pasture.”

Her lips curved gratefully. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot, just hearing it.” 

He gave his head a quick shake. “I’m not done, kiddo.” Race set his mug down on the table and looked her in the eyes. “Things change. Everything changes, and that’s because it has to.”

Jessie clenched her teeth. A lecture on her least favorite topic.

“But the important stuff? Like family? Like the people who love you? It only changes on the outside. It just looks different. The real stuff stays the same. I know you don’t believe me, but we would have made it work. When you weren’t with us, we wished you were. That’s a fact.” After a few pointed seconds, a chuckle slipped out of him. “Hell, Benton would have paid for a traveling shrink if I’d asked him to.”

He was right. Of course he was right. She nodded silently, tried to blink back the annoying tears welling up in her eyes.

Race crossed his arms. “So. Can we come to an agreement here? From here on out, if things get bad — like, you suddenly can’t step foot in a Tim Hortons without having a flashback or something —  you tell me. Or if it feels too weird to talk to me for whatever reason, you tell Hadji or Benton or Lawrence or Jenna. Someone.”

“Dad, I’ve got a therapist now, I —”

“And I’m happy to hear that, because I think both is best. Someone you’re paying to talk to and someone who’d listen to you yammer for hours on end, free of charge, just to hear the sound of your voice.”

She gave herself a few beats to think. What more was there to say? He was right, and she was pretty sure she was, too. At least a little bit. “It’s a deal, Dad.” She slid her mug over to his, clinked them together.

“Good. That’s good. I love you, Jessie. That’s not gonna change.”

“Back at ya, old man.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled at the familiar jab, but his posture told her he wasn’t quite finished. “One more thing.”

“Oh my god, Dad. ” She rubbed her hands over her face.”Ugh. Okay. What?”

“Everything I just said? The same goes for Jonny.”

“Nope!” She grabbed Race’s pastry plate and stacked it on hers, then moved them onto the tray. “Dad, there’s only so much a girl can endure in a single day.”

“Listen, I’m not gonna harp on this, I promise.” He put his hand on her wrist, calming the sudden table-bussing frenzy. “I’m just saying, things might look different now. In fact, I’d say things look downright weird and awkward as hell.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. 

“But I’ve known Jonny Quest longer than you have, kiddo.” He leveled his gaze at her. “And he doesn’t give up on the people he loves. Not ever. He’s smart as a whip and he’s got instincts like I haven’t seen since I last looked in a mirror.” He winked at her, grinned. “But sometimes he’s just a dumbass. Sometimes it takes him a while to get things figured out. But he always does.”

Her heart was pounding in her ears. “That’s a good reminder, Dad. Thanks.”

Race leaned back into the cafe chair. Really leaned, the way he did when he finally let himself relax. Just seeing that lazy smile settle in on his chiseled face had her shoulder blades releasing their tension, easing back into place. She wrapped her hands around her mug, even though the coffee had long gone cold. 

“I’m gonna tell Hadji you lumped him in with the rest of you ‘reckless cavemen.’”

Her dad pointed a finger at her. “You go right ahead. That guy’s a monster and he knows it.” 

She laughed as Race slapped his hand down lightly on the table. “Let’s go get groceries. I’ll even buy you a candy bar.”

Birch House was dark, and huge, and brooding . It looked like a tortured man standing on a cliff, staring out at the ocean. Tall and broad, but somehow spindly at the same time. Rain-battered. Time-weathered. Like Heathcliff with a balcony.

Jessie shivered. The weather had changed, yes, but it was the balcony that did it. She corrected herself; not a balcony. The widow’s walk. The last time she’d seen one of those in real life, she’d almost jumped right off of it.

She’d pushed Jonny over the railing instead. Thank god for Hadji’s quick reflexes.

She shook herself. Stupid ghosts.

“Here ya go, kiddo.” Race pulled two grocery bags out of the Jeep and handed them to her. She sent him a comfortable smile, overcome with relief at the fact that they were on an even footing again. 

As she made her way to the front door, her heart started to flutter. It was a familiar, heady, terrifying feeling. Adventure. Adrenaline.

Maybe.

She climbed the crumbling stone steps of the porch, and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Race was rummaging around in the Jeep, but other than that, she felt like the only person for miles. The front of the mansion faced the ocean, and even though she looked at the sweeping sea every day back home, she was struck by its haunting presence. It was there, waves lapping, whispering to her that it knew everything about her, right down to the cells of her blood.

Woods sprawled out behind the house. She hadn’t thought to do any research of the area, which annoyed her, but she did know that a cemetery lay somewhere amid all the trees and brush. 

She shivered.

If you would have talked to her in high school, she would have told you she loved ghosts. That she’d stay in every allegedly haunted hotel in the country if she could. These days, she was still fascinated by them, but it had been a while since she’d had any reason to remember that they were real . 

But she still remembered what it felt like to have someone else using her body. For revenge, for love, for a semblance of feeling solid again. It was seared into her, like someone had shoved a hunk of dry ice down her throat and lodged it in her lungs.

The door burst open in front of her, wrenching her out of her thoughts.

“Oh my god! Shit!” She clutched the grocery bags closer to her chest, half for protection, half to keep herself from throwing them across the yard. 

Jonny was standing in front of her, his chest heaving, like he’d run up three flights of stairs. His usual black t-shirt had been replaced by a knit henley — tight, black, clinging to him, of course — and he looked like a kid at Christmas. 

“Dude, Jess, oh man. Come on.” He tried to grab her by the wrist, but finally realized that her hands were full. “Oh, here, I’ll get those.” 

“No, I’ve got them! Just show me where the kitchen is?”

The skin between Jonny’s eyebrows wrinkled as he processed the fact that there had to be a step between the front door and showing her whatever had been so exciting. 

“Right, yeah. At least let me take one bag? I’m gonna feel like an oaf if I don’t.”

Jessie smirked and handed him the lightest bag, full of hamburger buns and potato chips. “Lead the way, Lancelot.” 

He laughed. “If I’m Lancelot, what’s that make you? Guin…” 

Jessie’s eyes bulged. Jonny performed a valiant act of verbal gymnastics and added, “...gawain?”

She exhaled, tried to chuckle casually. “Yeah, that’s me. Guingawain. Guinevere’s annoyingly virtuous kid sister.” 

Jonny’s eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion. “Are you annoyingly virtuous?”

She smiled, but the look she gave him was a nervous one. “To be honest, Jonny, I’m really losing my grip on this metaphor.” He’d been so excited to show her whatever it was he was flipping out over, and now it seemed he’d forgotten about it, and he was really staring at her. She exhaled, and told herself to suck it up. Not being honest always gave her a headache, eventually. “I was desperately rambling to make the fact that you almost called me the Guinevere to your Lancelot less awkward.”

He continued to stare at her. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Does this feel less awkward?”

“No. Absolutely not. This is awful, and I’m still talking. Why am I still talking?”

Jonny’s eyes turned a half shade darker, and darted over her shoulder to make sure Race was still occupied at the Jeep. He shifted the grocery bag onto his hip, securing it with his left arm, and reached up to slide his fingers lightly behind her neck. They felt like they were just barely there, like the hint of soft leather on her skin, but she was grateful for that. Anything more and she would have just melted. Or disintegrated. Or something more… naked.

His thumb moved over her bottom lip like a feather. She knew what he was thinking — that he could shut her up. That he could stop the flow of words by putting his soft lips on hers, firmly and authoritatively, and that she would surely forget what words even were, let alone how to say them.

And good god, he even licked his lips.

She’d never forgive herself for the whimper that came out of her. Worse, she almost let her tongue dart out to taste him, feel the faint callus on his thumb against it. Almost. 

She was pretty sure he could read her mind, because his eyes widened, and he brought his arm back down to the grocery bag. He cleared his throat. “Oookay. Kitchen?”

Jessie knew that there was a way to combine the breath in her lungs with the letters jumbled in her brain and push them all, somehow, through her vocal cords to produce a form of communication. She just couldn’t quite remember how to make it work. 

She swallowed. “Uh… huh. Yeah. Kitchen.”

Jonny stepped aside to let her through, and she noted for her own personal record that he smelled like a mix of the “ocean breeze” body wash they kept on the Questor and a hint of sweat. She shook her head. She wanted to register for a new brain. 

Luckily, the brain she already had — the kind-of-busted, slowly-mending one — was given something else to think about.  

The mansion was incredible. While she wouldn’t call it perfectly preserved, it was certainly well cared for. When she stepped inside, she was greeted by a hulking, dark wooden staircase to her right, which rose high above her head and flanked a long hallway that felt like it stretched for miles in front of her. The walls were papered in thick stripes; a deep gray-blue with faded green accents, and stretched halfway from the ceiling, where the wallpaper was met by more dark, ornately-carved woodwork. It was beautiful, but added an oppressive weight to the entryway, like it was full of fog. 

Jonny moved ahead of her, to lead the way to the kitchen, which was apparently at the end of the miles-long hallway. As she walked, she noted the rooms that flashed past her on her left and right sides. Living room, dining room, sitting room, a solarium overlooking the ocean. Even as they reached the kitchen, which was refreshingly bright and airy compared to most of the rooms she’d passed, she knew there were still more rooms further on.

They set their bags on a sturdy table and she took a look around the room. 

“I would have been a servant, no doubt about it.”

Jonny pulled the cold items out of her bag and made his way over to the shockingly modern refrigerator. “What makes you say that?”

“It feels so much better in here. Like, I know those other rooms had windows, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it!”

He nodded. “Agree. Some of that wallpaper out there is dark ; the lighter stuff makes a big difference.”

“No, it’s more than that. I don’t know. Can I sleep in the kitchen? Is that allowed?”

The heavy knocker on the front door slammed through their conversation. Jonny winked. “Hold that thought.” 

His footsteps thudded down the hall while Jessie allowed herself a slow spin around the cheerful little room. With two big windows on the north and south walls, and bright cream wallpaper that boasted forest green squares with thin outlines, she felt like a thousand pounds had lifted off her shoulders, simply by being in the room. A burden she’d had no idea was even there in the first place.

She placed a hand on her heart and closed her eyes. She didn’t know what the rest of the house felt like — the solarium was probably nice — but she hoped there were more rooms that felt like this. Comfortable, casual, happy, hopeful. 

When Jonny’s hands cupped her face, she sucked in her breath, but kept her eyes closed. Why was she fighting this so hard? She ran through a quick list of all the reasons why she wouldn’t let herself give in to him, tried her damnedest to remember what she couldn’t forgive. But she also knew that she could just lean into him , it wouldn’t be hard, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

She sighed. The warm fingertips on her cheeks seem to be exploring her face, brushing over her cheekbones, tracing the line of her chin. As her mind raced, it picked up on something unexpected — a sharp, sweet smell. Spicy, resinous, like tree sap. It filled her nose so suddenly that she couldn’t help but open her eyes, even though she knew they’d inevitably meet with Jonny’s icy blue ones.

Only, they didn’t.

There was no one there.

Jessie’s hands flew to her face. Her cheeks were still warm, but there was no trace of the gentle hands or searching fingertips. She whirled around — no one. Her hands and forearms felt numb, like someone had injected ice water into her fingers, and it was spreading slowly toward her heart. The front door shut loudly, and she jumped, letting out an embarrassing squeak.

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for all these heroic shenanigans?” Jonny’s voice bounced down the hallway toward her.

“Now, that’s the second time today my age has been insulted, damnit. And I don’t think groceries count as heroics.”

Jonny laughed. “They do when you’re trying to carry twice your bodyweight in—.”

The men stopped abruptly at the kitchen entrance. Race set his bags down heavily on the floor and closed the gap between him and his daughter in a split-second.

“You alright, Ponchita?”

She nodded quickly, let her eyes focus on her dad. “I’m — yeah. I’m fine.”

Jonny looked concerned, but there was a twinkle in his eye, too. Hopeful. “Jess, what’s up?”

“I think you’re right, Jonny.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “How so?” 

“Shit’s gonna get spooky.”

Chapter Text

Dr. Angelica Olssen had once been a formidable, intimidating woman. 

When Jonny was little, he remembered thinking she was a superhero in disguise. Broad shoulders topped her 6’1'' frame, and her thick platinum hair cut off abruptly at her chin. While her husband, Sam, had been congenial and goofy, she was always a hard nut to crack. But not for Jonny. According to family lore, he’d crawled into her lap the first time the Olssens had come to visit, prying a rare fondness from her that lasted for years. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d seen her, but he’d gotten a Christmas card from them every year, until recently. Now he knew why they’d stopped.

Angie had become a shadow of herself. 

When she’d opened the door of Birch house, her familiar eyes had creased with joy, but they were missing the fiery sparkle he remembered. 

Now they just looked sunken and hollow. Hungry.

She’d hugged them all, given them a tour of the upper levels, and showed them where they’d be sleeping… and that was it for the pleasantries. Afterward, she’d promptly taken Jonny, his dad, and Hadji down to her lab in the basement, which was just as dark and oppressive as he’d hoped it would be.

Which is why he was so surprised that the first sign of anything supernatural had happened in the most cheerful room of the house.

It had taken a serious amount of his willpower not to rush over to Jessie like Race had. She’d looked stricken and pale as hell, except for her cheeks, which looked flushed. The ugly truth was, though, that he hadn’t really been interested in comforting her — she wasn’t hurt, there was no impending danger that he could see. She was fine.

But he wanted to know what had happened. Because it was clear something had.

The kitchen was ice cold, and it had been perfectly comfortable when he’d left the room moments before. When they’d found her, Jessie’s eyes were wide open, looking dead ahead of her. No tears, no smeared mascara; nothing to suggest she’d had some kind of breakdown.

When she turned to him, and their eyes met, his brain went into adrenaline overdrive. She was rattled, but she wasn’t terrified. It was a look he hadn’t seen in a long time — she was curious.  And all he could think about was grabbing her by the shoulders, kissing the shit out of her, and dragging her down to the basement to tell Angelica all about it. 

Jessie had been out of commission for a long time, and she definitely had her own set of problems, but he knew what she was like out in the field. She was fast and strong and her wits were sharp. And she moved like… shit, he didn’t know. Like a cat or something. He remembered trying not to watch her muscles undulate under her clothes when they were teenagers. He’d done a good job of it, most of the time, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. It was mesmerizing, and he’d been 17.

He breathed out and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to pull himself together. 

She’d said it hurt to be around him, and it felt good to be around him. He had to agree. It was confusing.

He opened the narrow, inconspicuous door in the hallway and stepped onto the rickety staircase. An old, musty smell immediately filled his nose, and he gave himself a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dark. “Come on down, guys.” He went first, leading them down into a dimly-lit brick room with dusty stone floors. An open arched door promised some kind of light source around the corner, and they all headed for it. 

The scene he returned to was much different than the one he’d left. 

Well, the setting was the same: The room reminded him of a hollow skeleton, covered in muscle. Red brick wrapped around the perimeter of it, and white load-bearing columns and framing could be found at crucial points in the room. There were long folding tables lining the walls, covered in gadgets and computers and paperwork, and everything was illuminated by temporary lighting.

In the very center of it all sat a wooden stool on a large, dusty rug. It was a few feet high, had four legs, and was covered on top with faded, yellow fabric, and had intricate beadwork around the edges. Surrounding it on the floor was a black, metal hoop about four feet wide, with two cords running from it — one to a computer and the other underneath a closed door in the northeast corner of the room. Jonny could only assume the stool was ancient ; Angelica wanted to wait for everyone to show up before she explained her work. 

What had changed was the atmosphere. Hadji’s eyes met his with a look of aggressive gratitude — holy shit, he was uncomfortable. Dr. Quest was leaning against a table with his arms crossed, and he did not look happy. Dr. Olssen had turned to them, a tight smile plastered to her face.

“Welcome back, Jonny!” Her normally-calm Swedish accent was clipped and sharp. “And I’m pleased to see that you’ve brought the rest of the team, which means we can finally get started.” She shot a look at his dad. “So many people for this. I feel honored .”

“Angie. I’ve explained. We work best when we’re all together.” Benton stood up straight and took a step toward her. “I brought my best for you.”

“Well,” She pursed her lips for a moment. “You haven’t brought all your best.”

The two scientists stared each other down. It was probably only a few seconds, but to Jonny, it felt like a hundred years. He couldn’t handle it.

“Ang, something happened upstairs with Jessie.” He stopped. Rewound. “Sorry, Angie — Dr. Olssen — this is Jessie. Race’s daughter. But something happened up in the kitchen. Tell her, Jess!”

Angelica’s eyes flashed from angry to positively ravenous in a split second. She rushed forward and grabbed Jessie’s hands in hers. “Just now?” She looked at her watch. “It’s broad daylight! Which room?”

Jessie looked like a trapped fox; wide eyes, back stiff. She swallowed. “Ah, the kitchen. I— I had my eyes closed, and I felt someone’s hands on my face.”

“The kitchen? The main kitchen?” Angelica paced a few steps away and muttered something, then came back again to scoop up Jessie’s hands. “Did you see her?”

“Her? Um, no. No, I actually kept my eyes closed for a little bit.” Jessie’s eyes darted to Jonny, then down to the floor. “I thought it was — I, I guess I don’t know what I thought. But I kept them closed for a while. And, it felt like the hands were… learning about my face. They brushed my cheekbones, and my lips.”

The older woman just stared at her, eagerly. “Is that all?”

“Yes. No. I smelled something. It was really strong. Sweet, and—”

“Spicy? Almost chemical, like turpentine?”

“Yeah, yes, exactly!”

Something resembling a twinkle made its way into Angelica’s eyes. “Ohhh,” she breathed. “Oh, this is a good sign.”

Benton cut through her excitement with a hard, frustrated edge. “Angelica.” 

Jonny shuddered. He hated it when his dad used that particular voice. The last time he’d heard it had cost him almost two months of allowance. 

“Angie.” A little softer. “Please, we’re all here now. Bring us up to speed.”

“Right.” She clasped her hands studiously, like she was preparing to speak to an auditorium full of people. “It’s clear to me now that pretense is unnecessary. I am trying to connect with my late husband, Samuel, by way of a known active spirit who haunts this house.” 

Jonny’s heart cracked a little to see Benton flinch at his friend’s name. 

She walked over to one of the tables and tapped on the keys of a boxy-looking computer. The temporary lighting blinked out, trading places with pale lavender lights that Jonny had missed earlier. They were mounted to the ceiling, directly above the stool, in a circle mirroring the black hoop below.

“The spectral violet lighting, as well as all of the soundwave technology you see here, was secured from the Division of Perceptual Studies at the University of Virginia.” She stepped over to the elaborate setup, her face made even more hollow by the eerie light. “This hoop, however, is specially-crafted for the project. It sends electrical pulses toward the stool in the center, amplifying the Elysium waves my assistants and I discovered in our research.”

Jonny and Hadji exchanged a glance. Hadji mouthed “Spectral violet?” at him. Jonny shrugged.

Jessie, however, wasn’t content with the explanation. He could see her mind working, and she was chewing on one of her long, red, acrylic thumbnails. He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe she was getting her nails done.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Olssen, but did you say ‘spectral violet?’ That sounds… fake.” 

Race elbowed her. 

“What? It does.” 

Angelica laughed. “I agree with you, Jessie. I felt the same way when Dr. Rodinger at the Division explained it to me. It’s not what you’re thinking; it’s not yet another form of energy beyond even ultraviolet light.” She passed her hand in front of one of the lamps, her slender fingers looking fae in the faint purple light. “It is simply a very specific shade that has proven to best-illuminate a spectral manifestation. His cheeky assistant thought of the name. It’s nothing terribly high-tech, comparatively, but I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Dr. Quest shifted his weight, leaning into his cane. “Speaking of assistants, where are yours?”

Angelica’s smile morphed into a firm line. “They were… dismissed. They were no longer serving their purposes.”

The room settled into uncomfortable silence. Jessie moved closer to Dr. Olssen in the center of the room. “How is this stool significant?”

“Oh, yes.” She put her hand on Jessie’s back. “It once belonged to Eleanora.”

Jonny wasn’t the only one who noticed the subtle shudder that went through Jessie’s body at the name. He exchanged another pointed look with his brother.

“Eleanora? She’s the one who… lives here?”

“Yes.”

“Was Birch House her home?” Jessie walked slowly around the hoop, and reached her hand into the circle, wiggling her fingers in the spectral violet light.

“No. According to the accounts I could find, she lived in the settlement that eventually became Port Morien.”

“Hmm.”

Jonny cleared his throat. “So, then why’s she haunting this place?”

“I’m not entirely sure. The locals actually call her the witch of Black Brook Cemetery, which can be found through the woods behind the house.”

Hadji perked up. “Ooh, I would love to visit the cemetery. Have you investigated it?”

Angelica opened her mouth to respond, but instead let out a sudden exhale, and a tired chuckle. She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I have, Hadji, and I would love to tell you about my mostly disappointing findings… but I do believe I need some coffee. And some sunlight.”

Race uncrossed his arms and laughed, though his eyes weren’t entirely smiling. “Count me in on that sunshine.”

Angelica sat on a green velvet sofa in the main sitting room, and took a grateful sip of her coffee. Jonny had opted out — the last thing he needed was caffeine. He looked around the room in quiet awe, taking it all in. The walls in the gathering space were lighter than the hallway — a dull cream color with a dark damask pattern — but the heavy blue curtains made the place feel as heavy as the Titanic. The curtains, the furniture… it was all velvet. Thick, dark, garish. 

He was sitting on a loveseat next to Jessie. Again. 

This time, though, she had settled in comfortably next to him of her own volition. He’d hoped for a gentle pressure from her arm on his, maybe even a brush of her fingertips or her leg pressed against him. But, no dice.

He’d just have to be happy with the fact that she hadn’t chosen the floor instead of sitting next to him.

His leg bounced rapidly as he waited for more information. He was really itching to talk to Hadji, find out what the hell had gone on between his dad and Angie, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“The locals,” she finally said, “insist that the cemetery as well as Birch House is haunted, but I haven’t observed anything out of the ordinary there.” She smirked. “Other than a fair amount of impassioned teenagers with less-supernatural things on their minds.” 

Hadji stirred his coffee absentmindedly. Jonny knew he wouldn’t actually drink it; his brother was just being polite. Caffeine after 10:00 am was not Hadji’s thing, unless they were pulling an all-nighter. “I see. I would still be very interested in exploring it, nevertheless.” 

Angelica smiled. “Of course.”

Jessie had knocked back half her cup already, and her hands were shaking, just a little bit. Had she had anything other than coffee? “So what’s the story, then? What’s the legend here? Why choose Birch House?”

Race chuckled. “Damn, kiddo. I forgot how many questions you can cram into a New York minute.”

“No, it’s alright. I appreciate her curiosity, Race.” Angelica rested her cup and saucer in her lap. “The lore is surprisingly sparse in comparison to the reports of hauntings. There are variations, of course, as with all oral traditions, but the main legend is this: the entity that haunts this house has been tracked back to a woman from the early 18th century. Eleanora MacTavish. Reports say that her mother was Greek, and her father was from Scotland. Her parents were both dead by the time she was 18. A coal mining accident, and some kind of respiratory virus.”

Dr. Quest nodded. “Unfortunate. Not surprising.”

“Indeed. The townsfolk say that she lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of what is now Port Morien, selling tinctures and poultices to make a living. The town was both terrified of her and in desperate need of her healing skills, so they let her be.”

Jessie huffed. “Typical. I’ve heard this damn story a hundred times, just change the setting and the names.”

“She lived alone in her cottage until she died somewhat young, in her 30s. Her only request was to be buried in Black Brook Cemetery along with her parents.” She picked up her coffee again. “It was not granted.”

Hadji sighed. “Oh, my.”

“That’s infuriating. ” 

Jonny could feel Jessie’s hand ball into a fist next to his thigh. Whoah.

“It is, Jessie. Accounts say she was buried in the woods, outside the cemetery, and that her home was burned to the ground afterward. No one knew what the concoctions in her cottage were, or how to use them. And no one wanted to live there, so they cleared the space for livestock. Someone brought the stool out of her house for their child to stand on for a better view of the burn. It sat in storage until someone donated it to a historical society.”

Dr. Quest stood up to stretch his legs, stepping over to examine the Victrola near the window. “I’ve done my own reading on Birch House.” He said over his shoulder. “The hauntings are particularly extreme, and rather strange. Sleep paralysis episodes, hallucinations… which I would be inclined to chalk up to some kind of environmental factor, but the accounts of physical wounds do a good job of debunking that theory.”

Jonny was starting to get restless. He wanted to know the whole story, sure, but he didn’t blame his dad for getting up and moving around. He wished, for the millionth time in his life, that somebody could just plug a thumb drive in his brain so they could skip to Action Mode.

When Jessie put her hand, very deliberately, on his knee, he visibly startled, and an infusion of hope pumped into his blood. His eyes shot to hers, right before his heart sunk down into the basement. In fact, it probably plopped right down on Eleanora’s old stool and had a good pout. The look on her face told him, very clearly, that she hadn’t been reaching for him for connection or comfort, but to make his leg stop bouncing so furiously.

Stupid, he thought. 

“Yes, Benton. Correct. People have woken up to their paralyzed bodies being seemingly-engulfed in flames, the pain very real. Or to a chest full of completely-healed scars — wounds they never felt. When examined by doctors, the scar tissue always appears to be very deep and very old. No explanation, other than the assumption that the victim must surely be lying.” She pursed her lips. “They were not lying. I’ve seen the transition from pristine skin to scar-riddled flesh with my own eyes. Overnight.”

Benton cleared his throat.

“That’s a fantastic segue, Angie. What have you observed since you’ve been here?” 

Jonny shot a curious look at his dad, who ignored his attempt at eye contact. His tone was unpleasant and extremely unsettling. 

“Her. Eleanora. We chose that spot in the basement because of the dramatically high electromagnetic readings we observed there. There was something important about that section of the room. By amplifying the amount of energy aimed at the stool — the only remaining piece of her past — we’ve found that she can’t help but return to it.”

“Hmm.” Jessie’s eyebrows were knitted together just like his dad’s. Jonny watched her and Hadji exchange a look; most likely something had gone completely over his head.

“And Sam?” Dr. Quest held her eyes, silently daring his old friend to look away. “Angie? Have you found Sam?”

Angelica’s eyes softened, filled with tears. “I have , Ben. A flicker of him. I turned up the system as high as it would go. For a second, Eleanora, she— she blinked out.” She swallowed, thickly. “And he was just there . Sitting on the stool. And he saw me. His beautiful eyes got big when he recognized me, and then…” She choked down a sob with a deep breath, wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “And then he was gone. And she was back. That was four days ago. I shut it all down and called you.” She narrowed her eyes at Benton. “And I asked you to bring Questworld.”

Jonny sat back in his seat, trying to dodge the tension. Ohhh, he thought. Okay. Duh.

“I told you,” Benton’s voice carried a hard edge. “I barely understand what you’re doing here, Ang. I don’t even know if I agree with the ethics of it. The last thing I’m going to do is connect a system as powerful as Questworld to whatever it is you’ve got set up down there without knowing it inside and out.”

“I’ve explained it to you!”

Dr. Quest shook his head, emphatically, and moved back to the group. “No. No, you’ve told me that you’ve discovered some new kind of energy, and that you’re, what, adding extra electricity to it? And that process is somehow pulling one of my oldest, dearest,” he slammed an open hand on the wall next to him. Everyone jumped. “ Deadest friends through the void via the spirit that haunts this house?”

Angelica stood up abruptly, forgetting about the cup and saucer in her lap. Both fell to the floor, and coffee soaked quickly into the burgundy rug. This time, Jessie actually did reach for Jonny, her hand squeezing his arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His dad looked gutted , and his uncharacteristically aggressive behavior had Jonny’s stomach in knots. 

“And what of trust, Ben? Why don’t you trust me?” She reached out with both hands, tentatively placed them on Benton’s cheeks. She peered up into his eyes, and let her voice soften. “Sam trusted me, and he trusted you. We must trust one another. We can see him again , Benton. I already have.”

An exhale ripped itself from Dr. Quest’s chest, and it was laced with a heartbreaking sound. A sob, a whimper… It was hard to tell. He reached up and placed one of his hands on hers. “Tonight. I want you to show me what you do, how you do it. Tonight.”

With Benton’s exhale, Jonny’s thoughts came back into focus. He processed the fact that Jessie was still clutching his arm, and he reached up to take her hand, grateful for the excuse to find comfort in something, and for the softness of her skin. His dad had been in so much pain he’d known nothing about. Seeing it erupt out of him flooded Jonny with guilt, and struck up a searing ache in his chest. 

“Yes. Of course.” Angelica let her hands slide down, and bent to pick up her fallen dishes. When she came back up, her eyes glinted eagerly. “We’ll see him again, tonight.”

Jonny closed his eyes and let the hot water hit him directly in the face. He rubbed his hands over his cheeks and eyelids, then stretched his arms high above his head. He could feel how badly he needed to go for a jog, or do some pull ups, or something . After a few days without working out, his muscles were threatening to get comfortable, to settle into the idea of not having to burn ever again. 

Can’t let that happen, he thought. He’d wake up early the next day, jog by the cemetery, fill his lungs with cold, coastal air. 

The shower was another one of those futuristic Birch House anomalies; an ancient clawfoot tub with a plastic shower curtain and modern plumbing cobbled onto it. It was a janky combination, but the water pressure was strong and there was plenty of room for his tall, broad frame. He was relieved to have finally found his shampoo and conditioner — he’d packed them in an odd compartment in his duffel bag for some reason, and hadn’t used them in almost a week — and smiled to himself at the potent smell of rosemary and eucalyptus. Race would never let him live down the fact that he ordered a customized mix of products for his hair (let alone the fact that he used a conditioner separate from his shampoo), but he didn’t care. He liked dragging his hands through his long hair and, frankly, it was soft as hell. 

He also didn’t mind the fact that women randomly asked if they could touch it. He probably shouldn’t consider that a win, but, well, he did. What could he say?

The thought of a woman running her hands through his hair was a nice one. Not in a sexed-up way — although that would be nice, too — but in a way that built a bittersweet tightness in his chest. It was an intimate, casual gesture he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.

His thoughts flitted to Katya, the girl he’d seen on and off during his time in Russia. She’d always absentmindedly run her fingers through his hair when they’d watch movies on his tiny sofa. It was a comfort, and he missed it. He licked his lips, remembered. She always tasted like the strawberry chapstick she favored. 

He shook himself out of that , and switched gears to rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. 

As soon as Jonny had gotten notice that his Russian assignment would be ending, he had officially cut things off with Katya, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He’d known who he’d be coming home to, and that he couldn’t lie to himself, or anyone else for that matter, any longer.

Katya had taken it in stride, which hadn’t been great for his ego.

He sighed, worked his hair until it felt clean, and let the water run over him for another 30 seconds. He wasn’t the only one who wanted a shower, and he couldn’t imagine the water heater in Birch House being cutting-edge.

The bathroom was positioned between two of the servants’ bedrooms on the second floor. Once the water was off, he could hear Jessie talking animatedly through the door. She paused, and Hadji’s surprised laugh came shortly after. 

Jonny dried off quickly, pulled a comb through his wet — and perfectly-moisturized, thank you very much — hair, and pulled on some jeans and a henley. He hung his towel on an elegant-looking iron rack and opened the door to the bedroom he was sharing with Hadji.

Jessie was lying casually on one of the twin beds, her feet sitting lazily in Hadji’s lap. Hadji’s hands were resting on her shins, and he was still laughing, his chest heaving, tears hanging desperately to the corners of his eyes.

Irrational jealousy clutched Jonny’s heart for a split second. Just what he’d been daydreaming about: an absentminded connection, a foregone conclusion, a relationship that simply was there . Dependable, comfortable, comfort ing . 

Jonny used to have that with Jessie, long before they’d slept together. And he’d fucked it up. 

But he smiled, and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Jessie jumped at the sound of his voice and placed a hand on her heart. “Oh jeeze, Jonny, you scared the crap out of me.”

“What, you somehow missed the sound of the shower shutting off, and the bathroom door opening first?” He snapped, then winced at the acid in his tone. 

Jessie noticed it, too, and sat up. “Sorry if I’m a little jumpy , Jonny. It’s almost as if I got my face fondled by a ghost this afternoon or something.”

“Yes,” Hadji’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Is everything alright, my friend?”

Jonny let his shoulders slump. Copping a ‘tude definitely wasn’t going to make her feel more comfortable with him. It wasn’t her fault anyway. “I’m sorry. I’m… out of sorts. I don’t know. This afternoon was weird.” He mustered a half-smile. “Seriously, what was so funny?”

Jessie scooched closer to Hadji to make more room, and patted the bedspread next to her. A relieved grin broke out on Jonny’s face, and he sat on the bed, bracing his back against the wall.

She turned toward him, and stared at him thoughtfully for a few beats. Then she exhaled dramatically. 

“I got kicked out of a karaoke bar last year.”

His jaw dropped. “You — what?”

Hadji burst out laughing again. “I still do not believe it.”

“Jess, I’m gonna need some details, here!” He bumped her arm with his elbow. “The fact that you were even in a karaoke bar in the first place is what I can’t get past.”

“Okay, so, I didn’t tell anybody… because it wasn’t just me.” She turned sheepishly to Hadji, whose face transitioned silently from confusion, to suspicion, to a full-on epiphany.

“Jenna?”

Jessie nodded.

“ My Jenna?” He looked ahead of himself at nothing in particular. “Got kicked out. Of a bar.”

“A karaoke bar.”

“A karaoke bar.”

“Yes. Mmhmm. Yeah.”

“I must know, Jessie, what did you two do? To get kicked out? Did Jenna,” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “... punch someone?”

“Oh my god, no!”

Hadji let out a loud sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. It… wouldn’t have been the first time.”

Jessie barked out a laugh, but then her cheeks flamed, and she looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Okay, so. I really love 80s music. Right? You guys know that. So, like, I wanted to sing Love Is a Battlefield , but someone had already sung it by the time we got there… so the DJ wouldn’t play it.”

Jonny shook his head emphatically. “Hold on, hold on. You wanted to sing?”

“Yes! I sing!”

“Since when?”

Their eyes froze together, for just a moment, as Fleetwood Mac floated collectively through their brains.

Jessie blushed even further. “ Anyway, we had been drinking. I’d, ah,” She bit her lip. “I’d just gotten stood up by a blind date, and Jenna was being nice to me. So, I really wanted to sing that song. And so we both sat right at the front of the room, right by the stage, and we sang it — very loudly — over all of the singers. And… we got kicked out.”

“Oh, my goodness.”

“And banned.”

Jonny felt himself crack — all the tension of the past few days, his dad’s unexpected grief and anger, the absurdity of staying in a haunted house, the relief of knowing he and Jessie were on sturdier ground than before — it all came bubbling out of him in a type of laughter he hadn’t felt in years. By the time he was done, his cheeks were sore, his abs were burning, and he was gasping for air. Jessie and Hadji couldn’t help but join him.

It was a perfect moment in time, one none of them had really ever thought they’d have again.

And, as with all perfect moments, it was sweet and brief. As their laughter tapered into wheezing chuckles, Race’s tall form stepped into the doorframe. He grinned.

“What in Sam Hill is going on in here?”

“Nothing, Dad. Absolutely nothing, and that’s all you’ll ever get out of me!” Jessie threw a pillow at him. He reached out and caught it with his left hand, chuckling.

“Well I won’t ask again, then.” He threw the pillow back at the trio. “I hate to cut this short, but break time’s over, gang. Doc Olssen’s got her setup all ready downstairs, and Benton’s chomping at the bit.”

The cold tension he’d forgotten about settled back into Jonny’s spine. The adventure was starting to lose its lustre a little bit, with his dad’s grief making such a dramatic appearance. He shivered.

Jessie didn’t seem to be fazed, however, and hopped up off the bed. She held her hands out to the two brothers, who gladly took them and pulled themselves to their feet. 

“Welp,” she chirped. “Who ya gonna call?”

Chapter Text

The last few rays of evening sunset stretched through the small, rectangular window well on the west wall of the basement. Dust danced in the thin beams of light, and the colors looked like fire: orange, marigold, hot pink.  

Normally, Jessie would find that kind of thing beautiful, but that evening, in that house, it was more ominous than anything. Soon, she knew, the sun would sputter and fizzle out, leaving them drenched in nothing but darkness and an eerie, lavender glow.

She shivered. She was excited — for something new, for something that reminded her the world was more than what she’d settled for — but hell, it was spooky . Dr. Olssen was flitting around the room with Dr. Quest at her heels, murmuring to him impatiently. Jessie tried to eavesdrop, but Jonny’s whispered chatter was filling up her brain.

“Oh man, did I ever tell you guys about my apartment in Ireland? It was haunted, I’m not kidding. I played Scrabble with the ghost every once in a while.”

“What? No way.”

Hadji fidgeted with a piece of thread that was sticking out of his sleeve. He nodded at her. “It’s true! I visited him once, and we got beaten thoroughly. I’d never actually seen someone use all of their tiles in one turn before. Example . On a triple word score. There was no hope for us.”

Race leaned forward on his folding chair. “So, what if you wanted to challenge a word?”

Jonny opened his mouth, and then closed it. He clearly hadn’t thought about it. 

Angelica stepped into their semi-circle and cleared her throat. “I apologize for the wait.” Her words were clipped, crackling with electricity. “I’m ready now. I’ll ask each of you to give the apparatus some space, at least while it’s building power.”

Jonny shot a look over to his dad, hoping again to make eye contact. He’d tried to find some time to talk to him alone before his shower, but hadn’t been able to find Benton anywhere. Dr. Quest’s eyes were focused steadily on Eleanora’s footstool, his lips set in a grim line.

Jonny nodded imperceptibly to himself and closed the distance between him and his dad. The “old” Jonny would have let it be, let feelings get worked out in the wash, but that hadn’t ever worked out well in the past. It was their cycle, and the cycle sucked.

Benton’s knuckles were white, his hand clutching the top of his cane like a lifeline. Jonny closed his own hand over it, and gave it a small squeeze. “You wanna sit down, Dad? I know you’re gonna say no, but I’m still asking.”

Benton’s head jerked toward his son, as if suddenly realizing he wasn’t the only person in the room. When their eyes met, his eyes softened, and he did his best to force an encouraging smile. “I’m alright, Jonny. I’ll be okay,” he whispered. “This is… hard. On a lot of levels.”

A ball of unease formed in Jonny’s throat. “Mom?”

Benton nodded as the rapid clicks of computer keys filled the room, initiating a quiet hum of power. “I’ve been here. My eyes used to look exactly like Angelica’s. Desperate. Hungry for hope. You feel like you’re being burned alive, slowly. From the inside out.” He swallowed, turned his gaze back toward the lavender circle in the center of the room. “It’s… tempting.”

Panic ignited, quietly. “Tempting?”

“Yes, son. Tempting. I haven’t thought of seeing your mother again in a very long time.” 

Jonny’s lips parted, but nothing came out. He hadn’t thought of that for a long time, either. Life with his mom was a world away — another dimension. He couldn’t fathom seeing her again. His eyes swept the room, frantically trying to focus on something that would steady him.

Jessie could tell. She’d been watching them both, and Jonny’s agitation was sudden and noticeable. She wanted to wrap both men up in her arms, whisk them upstairs, and serve them hot cocoa in front of the fire or something. But that wasn’t going to happen, obviously, so she met Jonny’s eyes with hers, and did her best to send whatever comfort she could to him.

It worked.

His eyebrows lifted, and his eyes softened in gratitude. He gave his dad’s hand another squeeze. “I know, Dad. I haven’t thought about that in a long time, either. But we’ve tackled that… worked past it. Right? We’ve seen what can happen.”

Benton’s grip on the cane loosened, and he exhaled slowly. “Indeed.” He squeezed Jonny’s hand back with his free hand. “I’ll be okay, Jonny,” he said again. “Really. I knew what feelings this would bring up.”

“You sure?”

“Completely.” The corner of his dad’s mouth turned up, the tiniest bit. “Thank you for saying something. I hadn’t realized how lost in my thoughts I’d gotten.”

“Sure, Dad. No prob.”

Jonny made his way back over to the group, who had all risen from their folding chairs as soon as the machine started powering up. He slid in next to Jessie, who was standing behind everyone else. He was close, but not too close. 

The hum from the setup was increasing dramatically, and Jonny could feel the hair standing on his arms. He could feel the levels of electricity in the room, and he shuddered at the thought of it.

“Stand back, please,” said Angelica. “Even you, Benton. Once the levels stabilize you’ll be able to get closer.”

The hair on Jonny’s arms was starting to stand up, and he could have sworn he felt electricity buzzing under the soles of his feet. The violet lights increased in intensity, and the air above the ring on the floor started to blur, like waves over a tin roof on a hot day. 

He was already amped up, but Jesus , this was turning his brain to static. He knew the only appropriate thing to do in that moment was stand there, and wait, but that was proving to be almost impossible. He quickly looked at his watch, just to confirm what he already knew: his heart rate was off the charts. It was going to beat right out of his chest.

Jessie wasn’t immune to the energy, either; no one was. She could see Hadji’s intense discomfort, and her dad’s rising agitation. Race had moved closer to Benton, leaning against a support beam in an attempt to act unphased. She knew her dad, though — his mouth was set in a grim line, and his arms were crossed. He was worried. 

As for Jessie, she could tell something was very, very wrong. Nothing tangible was coming up for her, though. Was she scared? Yes. But she was also so many other things. Her head was swimming with fluctuating emotions; a surprising disgust, aching sorrow, and a deep, seething anger. It felt like even her blood was angry, like it was simmering underneath her skin.

She almost jumped a foot off the ground when Jonny’s hands slid onto her hips. They traveled up her waist, her sides, just barely grazed the sides of her breasts. 

He knew it was a terrible idea — not the right time at all, what in the hell was he doing — but he also knew, knew that if he didn’t do something with all the energy boiling inside of him he was going to do something insane. Scream like a wild animal, vomit, start crying, something.  

Her head whipped around to look at him and, as her eyes melded with his, he recognized the same craze. It somehow… helped. His pounding heart started inching back down to an appropriate pace. He immediately removed his hands, jammed them into his pockets. He took a deep breath, his eyes still locked onto hers. His gaze moved down to her lips, and all he could think about were the things he wanted to do to them, so he flicked his eyes back up.

“Jonny.” Her whisper was harsh, almost a hiss. “I feel it too, but you’ve got to pull it together.”

He swallowed, exhaled slowly. Tears were streaming down Jessie’s cheeks. 

“Seriously, Jonny, you look insane.”

He curled his hand in his sleeve and used it to wipe her tears away. The hum was starting to settle into his ears, into his bones. Not so loud anymore, just there . “You don’t look much better yourself.”

In fact, as everyone was calming down, as Dr. Olssen’s equipment stabilized and the violet light seemed to settle into a calmer, more diffuse glow, Jessie was getting more and more agitated, her previously silent tears mingling with whimpers. She put a hand over her mouth to try to stifle them, but it wasn’t doing much good. There was panic in her eyes.

Dr. Quest cleared his throat. “How long does it typically take for Eleanora to manifest?”

Jessie’s other hand flew to her chest, she clutched at it like it was burning, and she swayed for a moment, like her knees were weak. Jonny’s hands shot out to each shoulder in an attempt to steady her.  

Angelica’s brow was furrowed. “Never this long. She is always here by now.” She ran to her computers to check settings, fiddling frantically with knobs and buttons. “Perhaps there are too many people in the room, sucking up all the energy I need!”

“Angelica, I find it hard to believe that—”

The hollow wail that erupted from Jessie’s throat stopped Benton’s words on his breath. 

She watched her hands with a detached fascination as they shoved Jonny away from her, hard . His head hit the beam behind him. The sting in his eyes devastated her… and brought her a delicious feeling of satisfaction.

Her dad’s shout of concern broke her heart. She wished he hadn’t died so long ago. It was nice to hear his voice again.

Wait.

Jessie was drowning in an excess of air; sounds were muffled, and she felt like she was swimming through her family in a desperate attempt to find an anchor, something solid.

Something familiar to sit on.

She knocked their hands away, as they tried to help her, tried to pull her back into them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that the cool forehead against hers was her friend’s. Hadji had ripped his turban off and tossed it aside. His hands anchored gently on either side of her face, he did his best to keep his forehead to hers, and she could hear him whispering. For a brief moment, she was able to breathe, to see clearly, to hear that her friend wasn’t whispering anything mysterious; he was just singing Love Is a Battlefield to her, trying to give her something familiar to hold on to.

But she was starting to drown again, and Hadji could tell. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, and did his best to hold her attention, locking his eyes onto hers. “It’s okay to stop fighting. I’ll bring you back, my friend.”

His skin took on a shimmering purple hue, and he melted into the background. 

Thank god he stopped singing. It had been so distracting.

Jessie spun on her heel and turned toward the god-forsaken humming sound that plagued her nightly. After a few nights without it, it was back, and — like always — she couldn’t pull herself away from it. So she found her little stool, and she settled onto it, and it surrounded her with the most wonderful warmth.

It was confusing in the most awful of ways.

Until a short time ago, she hadn’t felt warmth like this in centuries. The first time she’d found this little piece of her past, she’d been overcome with happiness, a spark of hope that she wouldn’t have to howl into the wind anymore just to clear some of the pain from her lungs.

But this warmth came with the woman , with her iced eyes and pale hair. She was a witch, but she was not her kind of witch. This woman was not her friend.

This warmth was delicious, but it came without a choice.

And the man . When she recalled the memory, the feeling of him being pulled through her, silencing her thoughts, displacing her from the very air she was occupying, a guttural sound — half sob, half roar — ripped out of her.

Jessie was bobbing to the surface, coming up for a desperate gulp of air. 

“This isn’t me!” she shouted, and stood abruptly from the stool, fully realizing where she was. The violet light was so concentrated, she looked like some kind of bioluminescent creature from the depths of the ocean. And even though she knew there weren’t any walls around her, she somehow sensed that she was surrounded by something — it felt like standing in the middle of a baby pool full of soapy solution, after your 8th grade science teacher used a hula hoop to surround your whole body in a bubble.

Everybody was staring at her in open-mouthed horror. Everyone but Hadji, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the apparatus. His eyes were closed, and his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear anything other than the fucking hum. She wanted to step over the metal hoop, just walk out, tell everyone she’s fine, that she's hungry as hell… but she knew she shouldn’t . She wasn’t allowed to, not yet.

And then she was sinking again, and the most lovely voice filled her head.

You feel kind. You feel like a friend.

“What’s — what’s happening to me?” Jessie was sitting on the stool again, and this time she felt like herself, like she was only one person. Someone was playing with her hair, using their fingernails to gently scritch her scalp at the roots, then luxuriously pull their fingers down to the ends. The sensation was so pleasant she could almost forget the humming sound. She couldn’t see her family anymore, couldn’t see her dad’s lips pressed in a thin white line, couldn’t see Dr. Quest gripping his arm tightly, preventing him from rushing to her rescue.

She couldn’t see Jonny holding a chunk of black cloth to his head, staring helplessly in her direction. She tried to think about his clear blue eyes, how the hot skin of his stomach had stuck to hers as he’d pressed his body into her, how he’d promised her, bathed in moonlight, that she was beautiful. Unconditionally.

Her heart was aching. Why did it hurt so much? It didn’t usually hurt this much.

The woman’s gentle fingers started massaging her temples, making small circles. She alternated between firm pressure and light, fluttering touches. Jessie felt like she was melting. 

No, no, dear. Don’t think about him. He’s the most dangerous one of all.

Jonny hadn’t felt this shitty in a long time. The back of his head was throbbing, actively bleeding, and even though Race had ripped the sleeve of his shirt off and shoved it onto his head wound, he knew he’d need something a little more heavy-duty to patch it up if they ever made it out of this basement.

And Jessie. Fuck. He was beside himself.

He’d never been shoved that hard by someone who didn’t want to kill him. It hadn’t felt human… and watching her sit serenely in the spectral violet light, her eyes wide open and unfocused, he supposed it hadn’t been human.

Race was ready to explode, and Jonny’s dad was shouting at Angelica, who was frantically scribbling in one of her notebooks.

Hadji told them all to stay calm, that he’d make sure she didn’t get lost, and he sat down on the floor in front of her.

And all Jonny could do was watch Jessie, this woman who had his heart tied up in knots, had his skin on fire and his brain swirling, staring blankly past him into nothingness.

He’d never heard her make sounds like that. He’d never heard anyone make such a sorrowful, tortured keening, and there was nothing he could do for her right now. 

He had to wait. Bleeding, worried, desperate. 

It’s nice to have a friend again.

“Did you have many friends?”

No. Very few.

“I’m sorry.”

Thank you.

Jessie wanted to turn around, to look at the woman who was treating her with such delicate warmth, but she decided against it. It was lovely — the soft touch, the all-encompassing feeling of safety, the way her fingers took away that awful humming sound.

She missed her mom. She missed Lawrence.

I know. I know how it feels to be safe, to be loved without condition. It never lasts, though, does it?

The ghostly fingers felt as solid as the stool she was sitting on, and they had resumed traveling through her hair. It reminded her of one of her friends in elementary school, who would braid her hair while they watched Saturday morning cartoons together.

Jessie missed her friends. She missed her dad.

The woman’s fingers hesitated for a moment, until the vision of Race floated out of her mind. Something in the back of Jessie’s brain flickered at that, and as she tried to focus on it, tried to chase after it, she realized that her hands were clasping a thick piece of rope. A sweet voice, like dark, rich honey, started to claw its way through the hum. Someone was singing.

Jessie. Jessie. Doesn’t this feel nice?

She looked down at the rope in her hands, and felt the warmth seeping from her chest. She could smell blood in the air, and the hum was so loud it felt like her head was full of bees.

She tugged on the rope.

Jessie, don’t do this.

The rope tugged back.

Slowly, Jessie turned to get a glimpse of the person who was, so gently, holding her captive.

She had expected a thin wisp of an old-fashioned girl, but she was utterly wrong. This ghost was a force. She had full, smiling lips and a heart-shaped face framed by thick, black-brown hair. Her eyes, however, didn’t carry any of the warmth Jessie was hoping to see. They were hard, unblinking. She was so tall, with wide hips and a full bosom, and Jesus, Jessie had never seen someone so terrifyingly beautiful.

She whispered, “Eleanora.”

Eleanora sighed heavily, and Jessie felt the exhale on her face. Like frost.

Remember, Jessie. He can’t be trusted.

Jessie shivered. 

He made you feel safe, and then he betrayed you. 

“Thank you, for…” She searched her foggy brain for the right words, and couldn’t find the perfect fit. So she settled on, “... for being so nice to me.”

He deserves pain.

Jessie wrapped the rope tightly around her hands and tugged on it one more time, giving whoever was on the other side permission to wrench her out of her sweet, violet prison.

Jonny had never seen anything like it. One moment, Jessie was sitting on Eleanora’s stool, her head tipped back, with a small, eerie smile on her face. The next, she was flinging herself out of the ring. She landed in a heap in Hadji’s arms, who took her face in his hands to examine her. She looked exhausted, but she held his eyes steadily and sent him a weak smile. 

“I’m here. It’s me. Thanks for throwing me a rope, Hadj.”

“Literally any time, my friend.”

Jonny’s hands were itching to scoop her up, to confirm for himself that she was okay, but it was becoming clearer every day that there were other people who had earned that place in her life.

Not him.

So he hung back, watched her stand warily, watched her let Race lead her to a folding chair. His dad was fussing over her, too, but he looked angry . He crouched down to her level, looked carefully into her eyes, asked her a few questions to gauge her mental state, and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. He stood up and turned abruptly toward Angelica, who was paying no attention to Jessie.

The blonde woman’s eyes were glued to the violet circle, and she was muttering quietly to herself, periodically chewing her thumbnail.

Eleanora was still there.

She was standing at the edge of the metal hoop, and she wasn’t moving. Jonny shuddered with the realization that she was staring at him. She was wearing a tattered charcoal gray dress with shredded bell sleeves, and her long hair fell all the way down to her waist. If he were discussing her over a couple of beers with a buddy, he’d say ol’ Eleanora was smokin hot, in like, a really scary way. As if on cue, her hand rose slowly, and beckoned for him to come closer.

He wasn’t stupid. He quickly shook his bleeding head.

“No way, lady. Huh-uh.”

And that’s when she smiled at him.

It was not a friendly smile.

“Angelica, shut it down now!” Dr. Quest’s voice boomed through the hum of the machinery, and he slammed his cane forcefully onto the cement floor.

Dr. Olssen narrowed her eyes at him, but she did as she was told. When the flow of electricity was finally cut, Jonny was acutely aware of the relief that washed over him. His limbs doubled in weight, and he felt like he could sleep for a thousand years.

He could vaguely hear Jessie’s voice, assuring everyone she was fine, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman, staring at him with such seething malice. 

Thankfully, as the violet light blinked out, so, too, did Eleanora.

Jessie stared at the ceiling, exasperated with herself.

Just close your fucking eyes, go to sleep. It’s not hard.

She squeezed them shut, tried to use Hadji’s even breaths as something to focus on, something to count, like sheep. Everytime she thought she was drifting, Jonny would roll over in his bed, or mumble something incoherently, wrenching her right out of any progress she’d made toward sleep.

She huffed. It wasn’t really Jonny’s fault. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d always found his sleep mumbling to be pretty adorable. She especially liked it when his mumbles were mixed with faint, drowsy smiles. His eyebrows would raise, and he’d sigh contentedly, and it was almost illegal how sweet it was. 

Ugh.  

She was rattled, and she felt stupid about it. She rolled onto her stomach and looked down at Hadji, who had insisted Jessie sleep in their room that night, and all the other nights they slept at Birch House. Had it been Jonny or her dad, she would have rolled her eyes and told them she could take care of herself.

But Hadji… that was different. He felt things they didn’t. He’d thrown her a rope that was never there — even though, for a brief moment, it had felt like the only thing she knew for sure was real.

She shivered.

He’d pulled her mattress into their bedroom and insisted she and Jonny sleep on the beds. He’d said, “After that, you need rest. And Jonny’s got a head wound, for goodness’ sake. It’s not like I’m sleeping on the bare floor.”

Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked. 

Jessie sat up abruptly, spine straight, pulse racing. She listened carefully for a few moments, then looked out the window. The wind had come up, and the massive oak tree outside the house was swaying heavily, causing one of the heavier branches to scream in protest.

It wasn’t a floorboard. It wasn’t a ghost. It was just a tree.

It was just a tree.

It was just… fuck.

This was exactly why she’d been hesitant to sleep in their room — she knew herself well, and she knew that, at some point, she was going to start crying. Hard . That’s just how she worked. She’d cry until she couldn’t anymore, she’d process it, try to pinpoint the exact thought or feeling that had inspired the meltdown, and then she’d recover, feeling infinitely better. She was used to it, and she knew it was progress. She also knew that if one of the Quests saw it happening it would scare the shit out of them.

As she felt the sobs building in her chest, she accepted there was no way she was going anywhere in the house alone in the dark, so she slipped out from under the covers and gingerly stepped over Hadji toward the bathroom.

The door latched quietly, thank god, and she quickly turned on the shower before the tears even made it onto her cheeks. She left her clothes in a pile on the floor and stepped carefully into the clawfoot tub. The water was hot and welcome, and something about the bottles of shampoo, the bar of soap, the loofah — the normalcy of it all — triggered the waterworks.

She was grateful for the sound the water made as it fell onto the bottom of the bathtub, as it swirled around the drain, pulling her tears along with it.

Jonny was grateful to be wrenched suddenly from his dream, at least until he realized what had woken him up.

It wasn’t a nightmare — or rather, it hadn’t gotten far enough along to be a nightmare, anyway. He’d been sitting in a dark room, staring across a barren table and directly into Eleanora’s unflinching eyes. She’d been smiling at him; just the memory of it had him shuddering. Right before he woke up, she had pushed the table aside so harshly its table legs made a screaming sound against the floor. She stood up, leaned in close to him, and pressed her thumb firmly against his forehead.

And then his eyes had flown open, and he’d launched violently back into consciousness, pushing himself up onto his elbows so he could see his surroundings. He touched his forehead gingerly; everything seemed normal.

When his eyes focused in the moonlight, when he realized he was safe in his bed and not trapped in a room with a dead woman, that’s when understanding settled in his gut like a cannonball.

He’d seen tears slide silently down Jessie’s cheeks, he’d seen her crying through clenched teeth in anger, and he’d experienced her in the middle of her first-ever panic attack, but he’d never heard her sob . Not like this.

The water was steadily drumming into the tub, dampening the sound — but only just. Even in the next room he could tell that she could hardly catch her breath, and in between gulps of air, she couldn’t stop the sobs from spilling out of her.

He swung his legs over the bed, let his feet rest on the cold hardwood floor, and let his brain and his heart duke it out for a minute.

She clearly went to cry in the shower to be alone, otherwise she would have just cried in bed. He should let her be.

But… maybe she just didn’t want to wake them up. Maybe she was aching for someone to hold her, and didn’t know how to ask.

He didn’t know. Damnit. What he did know was that the sounds she was making were splitting his chest in half, right where his ribs met… and it didn’t sound like she was calming down anytime soon. A new thought crept in. What if she was having a panic attack?

That was all the reasoning he needed; he’d been with her during one of those, and he’d pulled her into him, held her, said encouraging things, and she’d calmed down. He could do that again.

It wasn’t until he’d quietly shut the bathroom door behind him that he remembered the thing about showers: you usually take them naked.

He’d been so preoccupied with comforting her, he hadn’t really thought the logistics through until he saw her clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor. The room was full of steam, and Jessie’s sobs were even louder now that he was finally near her. He could see her silhouette through the translucent shower curtain — nothing explicit, just a peach-colored figure with flaming red hair, sitting on the edge of the tub, the shower curtain stuck to her shuddering back.

He didn’t want to scare her to death, but he couldn’t just stand there, so he cleared his throat, placed his hand on the shower curtain, on her back.

“Jess?”

She stiffened. He could see her trying to compose herself, trying to shake it all off. And then he saw her realize she couldn’t do it, and she slumped back over, her sobs resuming with full force.

“Jessie? What can I do?” He took his hand away, to give her some space. Dragged it through his hair, flinching when he grazed his wound. “Aw, man, Jess, this is… fuck, this is breaking my heart. What can I do?”

She shook her head, tried to wave him off. She slid off the edge of the tub, slowly, so that she was sitting in the bottom of it. “I’m… fine… Jonny,” she hiccuped. “I just… have to… get through it. I always… do.”

He paced for a minute. It was excruciating. “Do you want me to leave?” He waited a beat, then added, “I don’t wanna leave, I want to be here for you. But I will, if that’s what you want.”

Behind the curtain, she clenched her fists, let her fingernails dig into her palms. If she could just stop fucking crying , she could think. Her therapist once theorized that, since she’d spent so much of her life trying not to cry, her body and her brain were no longer giving her the choice. Jessie had told her that sounded awfully whimsical and not very scientific, and her therapist had simply smiled and shrugged. 

She tried to rally, tried to take deep, slow breaths. Tried to focus on the dull pain in her palms. She knew she should tell him to go, but damnit, she didn’t want him to. She was getting worse and worse at lying to herself. It was annoying.

“No. I don’t… I mean, staying would be… thank… you.”

Jonny exhaled. Thank god. He looked around helplessly for a moment, finally deciding to just sit on the bathmat, his back to hers, with the tub in between them. She was still crying, but it was quieter. 

“So…” He said, as casually as he could. “You take these crying showers often?”

She shook her head. “No… I didn’t want to wake you guys up, so I thought it might be better to come in here.” She opened her hands, watched the water stream over the angry half-moons on her palms. “No, I tend… to cry just about anywhere… these days.”

His eyebrow raised, skeptically. That didn’t track, not with what he’d ever observed. “Just… not around any of us, I take it?”

That one hit a little too close to home, and all the emotion came back, forcing itself out of her throat, wracking her body with coughing sobs. Again. Shit.

Jonny raised his eyes to the ceiling, in panic, in questioning, in… he had no idea. He was itching to do something, but what? What the hell is one supposed to do in a situation like this? 

He didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but he did know what he couldn’t do, and that was just sit there. He’d never been a man of patience. He stood up, took a quick look around the room, and pulled his shirt up off over his head.

“Jessie? I’m coming in.”

She was still crying; he wasn’t sure that she’d heard him. He slipped out of his jeans and took a few quick steps over to the sink to grab a hair tie out of his toiletry bag. He very carefully pulled his long blonde hair up into a messy bun at the crown of his head.

“Jessie,” he repeated. “I’m coming in, unless you tell me not to. I can’t just sit here and listen to you like this, okay?” He slipped his watch off and left it on the counter. “You know me. I’m bad at sitting around.” He stood by the tub for a moment, his hand gripping the shower curtain. Waiting for an answer.

At this point, her sobs were uncontrollable. She hadn’t had one this bad in a long time. “I… don’t know,” she lied.

He sighed. “Jessie, tomorrow, we can go back to being weird and hesitant and horny and tense if that’s what you want. Just let me… let me take care of you, okay? Just for right now.”

Finally, she nodded. He could see her head bobbing through the curtain. “Okay, Jonny.”

Hearing her say his name like that — broken and nervous and grateful — ripped him to shreds all over again. He pulled back the curtain and took a careful step into the tub.

She was curled up into herself, sitting on the floor of the shower, her shoulders heaving, her forehead resting on her knees. He sat down next to her, his back against the opposite wall of the tub so he could see her face, whenever she decided to look up at him. He’d left his boxer briefs on, and they were quickly soaking up water, sticking to him, but he pushed the discomfort out of his mind.

She didn’t look up, she just couldn’t yet, but god she was grateful to have him so close to her. “I’m sorry… for waking… you up.”

“Ace,” he whispered, and he reached out to touch her leg with a nervous hand. He put a thumb on her shin, let his fingers rest on her calf. Jonny circled her skin with his thumb as gently as he could. He’d never called her anything but Ace, or her name, but he was aching to call her something more tender. “Just take some slow, deep breaths, okay, sweetheart?” He smiled a little to himself. That sounded stupid… but it felt nice to say. He stretched a long, muscular arm up to the little shelf attached to the wall above them and grabbed a bar of soap. He lathered it up liberally between his hands and set it down next to him, away from the shower spray.

He reached out and took her calves in his long fingers, one in each hand, and started to knead them slowly, deliberately, the soap making her skin slick enough to massage without sticking or pulling.

“I don’t know why you’re crying, Jess.” He pushed gently into the thin muscles lining her shins, up and down, slowly. “I mean, I’ve got an idea, but I’ve also got the feeling that it’s a whole lot of things, kind of piling on top of each other. And then, surprise , let’s add a ghost possessing you on top of it.”

Jessie swallowed, gulped some more air, tried to reign in her sobbing to something a little less dramatic. His fingers on her skin felt like… like a steaming mug of hot cocoa after a day on the snowmobiles. The repetitive, gentle motion was starting to ease some of the static in her brain. She could feel his eyes on her, and she wanted to look up at him, just to reassure herself that she wasn’t dreaming, but the second he’d touched her she’d become acutely aware of the fact that she was naked. Was he naked? She was afraid to look.

He’d called her sweetheart. Sweetheart. If she weren’t still crying she’d probably start laughing.

That was good. Laughing was good. Breathing, slowly, was good.

“I think about those damn ghosts all the time, Jessie, and I didn’t even get the worst of it. My ghost didn’t try to make me throw myself off a balcony, or strangle one of my best friends. Yours took over your body, without your consent, and put your life in danger. And now Eleanora’s trying to do the same thing.”

That’s when Jessie finally lifted her head. “She’s not… trying to hurt me, Jonny. She took me over for a moment, to pull me into the circle… but she’s not trying to hurt me. I can tell.”

He remembered the way Jessie had been smiling, her head tipped back in an almost luxurious, lazy way. He had not liked it.

He was happy to see her face, though; to get a good look at her eyes. His fingers moved down to the tops of her feet, sliding between the long bones of them. “Okay, so maybe she’s not trying to hurt you.” He tried not to sound too skeptical, or patronizing. “But she took you over — I saw you leave your eyes, Jessie. You can’t tell me that doesn’t have something to do with this.”

She realized she wasn’t actively crying anymore, but the tears were still falling silently down her cheeks. She laid her head back onto the rim of the tub and looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the slick, decadent feeling of Jonny’s hands.

“Does this happen a lot, Jess?”

“Yeah.”

“Why haven’t I ever seen it? Or my dad? Or, hell, your dad?” He lathered up his hands again, and reached for one of hers, giving one of her fingers a soft tug. “Gimme that hand, Ace.” 

The corner of her mouth quirked up. She held out her hand so he could take it, and flip it over, palm up. He used his thumbs on the fleshy heel of her palm, and rubbed the back of her hand with his fingers, sliding them between the bones, just like he did on her feet.

“Mmm, Jonny,” she hummed in shy pleasure. She let her shoulders relax and release, and sighed. “I usually hide when it happens, ride the wave by myself. If it gets really bad, I call Lawrence.”

Seeing her relax sent a shot of dopamine to his system, which was confusing, because her words were awful to hear.

“I’m glad you feel so comfortable with Lawrence.” He hoped it didn’t sound as bitter as he felt.

She let out a dark chuckle. “It certainly wasn’t my decision the first time. He caught me crying in the downstairs pantry once last summer.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, opened them. “And I don’t call him often. I’ve done it… maybe three times? I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.”

Jonny stopped massaging her hand for a moment, locking eyes with her. “I wish you’d let us help you more.”

“Yeah, well,” she sighed, as he started in on her other hand. “We both wish a lot of things.”

A frustrated exhale hissed from his lips, but he continued rubbing her pale fingers, one at a time. “I deserve that, I get it.” A tendril of humidity-frizzled blonde hair escaped from the hair tie, and came to rest near his temple. “I’m running out of ways to apologize, Jess. I’m here. Okay?”

She nodded, and her bottom lip started to tremble. “I’m sorry, Jonny. You’re being so… sweet to me.”

For a beat or two, he just stared at her, thinking. She didn’t feel like looking away anymore. She wanted to stare into those blue eyes, and revel in the fact that they even wanted to look at her, let alone focus on her like she was the only woman in the world.

“Okay.” He leaned over, grabbed the bar of soap, and hoisted himself up onto his feet.

She couldn’t help it - she marveled at him, towering over her. His chest, his abs, his marble-carved arms. Shiny, wet, just golden enough. Her face was right at thigh level, and that had her blushing. Not that she had any energy to do anything about it… but Jesus , he was beautiful.

He held out both hands, gestured with playful impatience. “Come on.”

She took them, and let him pull her up to standing. The wet air hit her like a shock as she unfolded her body, reminding her again of how naked and vulnerable she was.

He’s seen it all before, she thought. Then she chewed on her lip, nervously, and looked down at the floor. You were a lot thinner before. In one tiny motion, she shook her head. No. Stop it. She brought her chin up, fully prepared to look him straight in the eyes.

But Jonny’s eyes were temporarily occupied.

His lips had parted, and his gaze was cloudy… hungry.

He’d been doing such a good job of not acting like a horny teenager. He’d been razor-focused on comforting her, on making her feel safe enough to let him comfort her… and now here he was, ogling her. Sweeping his eyes from her toes to the top of her head, trying not to fixate on the soft thatch of red hair between her legs, the new swell of her hips that he, quite frankly, was dying to sink his teeth into. Her gorgeous, full breasts. Oh my god.

He shook his head, met her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, ha, it’s fine. I mean—”

“Turn around, okay?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

He sent her an exaggeratedly exasperated look. “Listen, I may not be able to keep my eyes off of you, but I’m a gentleman , Jessica. I’m not going to —” He swallowed. It’s probably best not to finish that sentence. “Just trust me here. Turn around, let the hot water run over that slammin’ body of yours, and let me…” 

Jonny took her gently by the shoulders and turned her around. 

“Take…”

He squeezed some of his shampoo into the palm of his hand, started working it into a lather.

“...care of you.”

Jonny’s fingers started in at the nape of her neck, with more pressure than he ever used when washing his own hair. His thumbs moved in a circular motion, massaging her taut neck muscles, working shampoo into the roots of her hair.

Jessie’s eyes had never rolled into the back of her head so fast. She’d had no idea Jonny was the kind of guy to make a woman’s knees weak with hair care . In hindsight, his impossibly-soft, golden mane probably should have been a tip-off. After he paid exquisite attention to the base of her head, he moved his long fingers in those dizzying circles all over her scalp, bringing the shampoo to what felt like a big, goofy pile of bubbles on the top of her head.

He had no idea what her hair looked like, because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her backside. Like a bright, flashing arrow, the long, tight muscles of her back pointed straight down to the most incredible ass he’d ever seen. Round and grabbable and bare. It was all he could do not to let out an embarrassing moan.

“Okay,” the words sighed out of him. “Turn around again.”

She did, and he tilted her head back with his right hand to rinse out the shampoo, being careful not to let the water fall into her eyes.

His skillful fingers knew just how to run through her hair without causing pain, slowing their pace at any tangles, loosening them with experience. When all the suds had washed down the drain, he reached over to grab his bottle of conditioner, but Jessie stopped him, leaned her body into him, her arms folded underneath her chest. She was hoping he’d put his arms around her, just for a moment.

He wanted to, but that would bring her much… closer to him.

But she felt wonderful against him, and they were grown-ass adults, so he did. He slid his arms around her, pulled her tightly into him, letting one hand rest at the small of her back, the other at the base of her neck. Her cheek settled against his chest, and he nuzzled his face into her hair, smiling with an irrational sense of satisfaction that she smelled like his shampoo. He tried to ignore the fact that he felt like he was going to burst into flames.

Once he’d pulled her into him, there was no denying it: he was rock hard, stretching the wet fabric of his boxer-briefs. Jessie stiffened in surprise for a moment, before simply just relaxing into him. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss having a man this close to her, having him hard against her, very clearly wanting her. She did giggle, though. Just a little bit.

“Hey!” Jonny grinned into her hair. “Listen, if you ignore it, it goes away. There’s nothing I can do here.”

She looked up at him, raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

This time a moan did escape his lips. “Ace. ”

“You’re not going to call me ‘sweetheart’ again?”

“Was that bad? It didn’t work, did it?”

“I like ‘Ace’ just fine, Hotshot. Nobody else calls me that.”

Jonny took her gently by the shoulders again, pushing her back just enough to see her face. “Alright, then.” His eyes bored into hers. “I want to tear you apart, Ace .” He pushed into her, he couldn’t help it. She uncurled her arms from under him, so that she could wrap them around him in turn, get her fingertips on his wet skin. The sudden press of her breasts against him sent his brain into a tailspin. He could feel both of her nipples, hard and tight on his ribs. “Mmm. God. ” He exhaled slowly, deliberately.

Her heart was racing. She was exhausted, but she could rally, for this.

“Having you naked, against me like this… Jess, I’ve been thinking about it since the second I saw you at Quest Labs. Shit, I’ve been thinking about it for three years.”

She ignored the twinge in her chest, and leaned into him, pressing her lips quietly over his heart.

He sighed. His grip on her lost a little of its fire. “But you were sad that time, too. And, trust me, trying to fuck away the sad never works.”

He slid a finger under her chin, lifted it up so she could see his eyes. “And I do …” he swallowed. He hadn’t ever talked to her like this before. “I do want to fuck you. That’s clear, right? Like, I want to make sure there’s no misunderstanding.”

Jessie’s lips parted, but she couldn’t remember how words worked. She nodded.

“Good. Because, as much as I want that, as much as I want to hear those incredible sounds you make, and,” His fingers pressed into her back. “... see you moving under me, on top of me. I don’t want it to be like this. I want you to be happy. I want you to choose it with a clear head. Trust that I’m always ready. Okay?” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And, now, I want you to let me put conditioner in your hair — because I’ll never forgive myself if you come out of this with split ends — and rub your back, and tuck you in, and watch over you until you fall asleep.” He smiled at her. His eyes twinkled, and they were full of a tenderness that threatened to completely undo her. “Got it?”

The air sighed out of her lungs shakily. Her whole body felt like a raw nerve. He was right; she did want him, and it was time to stop pretending she didn’t. She’d figure out her hurt feelings, work on trust, eventually. It was clear that lying to herself on this front wasn’t going to hold up. The last thing she wanted was to be a damsel in distress when they finally, really got their hands on each other. 

“Got it.”

He grinned. “Thank god.” He pumped conditioner into his hand, and applied it to her hair, starting at her ears and working his way down.

“What, you don’t put it all over?”

He scoffed dramatically. “That’s how you get an oily scalp, sweetheart.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Stop calling me that!”

He gave her a pout. “I kind of like it. I’m sweet on you, Jessie.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to gather his face in her hands and meld her lips to his, but she could wait. For the right time.

“Alright. Turn around again.”

She obeyed, and turned to face the wall, letting the hot water spill over the front of her. This old house had a much better water heater than she’d given it credit for. As she closed her eyes and listened to Jonny lathering up his hands again, she thought she might be calming down enough to actually get some sleep.

As soon as his hands touched the meaty part of her shoulders, his thumbs pushing into the muscles more firmly than she’d anticipated, she breathed out a sigh of luxurious relief. Not only would she get sleep tonight, she decided that she wasn’t setting an alarm, either.

“Is that too hard? Am I hurting you?”

“Nope, Jesus, it’s perfect.”

The rush of euphoria he got — hearing that from her perfect lips, knowing he was bringing her pleasure and comfort and relief — would be enough to last him for a while. Having her fully naked, wet, soapy, and pliable in his hands felt almost illegal . His thumbs cruised lazily down either side of her spine, stopping just at the top of her ass before slowly kneading their way back up to her shoulder blades.

“Will you tell me about it? Eleanora?”

She didn’t answer, trying to focus on how wonderful his hands felt.

“I don’t mean tonight. But, maybe in the morning? Over coffee with me and Hadj? I know Angie’s gonna grill you about it, so if you don’t want to, I get it.” He worked his way back up her neck, massaging the top of it with his fingertips, just under the base of her skull. “I just thought, maybe, talking about it with someone who cares about you first might be a little less stressful.”

Jonny moved her forward as gently as he could, letting the water wash the soap off her back. He leaned in and planted the whisper of a kiss between her shoulder blades. The quiet kindness of it brought the sting of tears back to her eyes.

You can trust him. 

He made you feel safe, and then he betrayed you.

You can trust him.  

Right?

“I’ll get you a towel, Ace.”

He quietly slipped out of the shower, stepped onto the bathmat, and peeled his wet underwear off. Unsure of what to do with them, he wrung them out in the sink as best he could, wrapped them up in a hand towel, and tossed it all in the corner. He’d get her warm in bed and deal with them in a bit. He dried himself off while she finished getting clean, put a fresh towel on the rack, and slipped back into the bedroom to find some pajamas.

There was just enough hot water left for Jessie to wash her body and collect herself for a few minutes. She’d felt Jonny leave the room, and was grateful to be alone for a moment, despite how comforting he’d been. Being naked and vulnerable in front of Jonny Quest was not exactly something she’d anticipated, and her head was spinning. She needed to find a solid footing before he, good lord… tucked her in , like he promised.

When she tiptoed into the bedroom, she was happy to see she hadn’t woken Hadji. His mouth was hanging open, his left arm sprawled off the mattress and onto the floor next to him. Jonny was just pulling on a t-shirt, and when his head popped up through the neck of it, he sent her grin.

It was so genuine, she had to grin back. Her stomach felt fluttery - she’d missed this with him the first time, when they’d just fallen into bed. The nerves, the hopefulness, the flirting. They knew so much about each other, but she knew nothing about this part of him.

She could get used to it.

So, Jessie crawled into her bed, and Jonny pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, tucked it in around her. 

He delicately ran some fingers through the hair at her temple, pushing it back behind her ear. “Good night, Jessie.”

She mumbled a quiet response, and drifted off into a hard, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Lawrence’s eyes fluttered open as his brain swam slowly out of an absolutely ridiculous dream. He’d been desperately trying to convince his Aunt Cindy she was in grave danger, all while making a huge batch of pancakes… or something like that. 

He looked at the clock next to his bed — 4:30 am. Ugh. What in the world was he doing awake?

He closed his eyes, tried to conjure up the pancakes again… he could do without Aunt Cindy, though; she’d been stressing him out.

His watch buzzed frantically on his wrist and his eyes flew open this time. Oh. The display on his “space watch,” as he lovingly referred to the Quest communicators, flashed the phrase Hot Husband. Normally he’d smile at that, but 4:30 am was not “normally.” He reached over and grabbed his phone off the end table.

“Ben? Is everything okay?”

“Good morning, Lawrence.”

Lawr relaxed a bit; that was not Benton’s emergency voice. “I suppose some people might call this morning.” 

Benton chuckled, and the sound warmed Lawr all the way to his toes. “Yes, I’m sorry. I know it’s early, but I need your help, and I don’t want to alarm the kids.”

“The kids? You mean, the adult humans in their 30s?”

“I suppose I’ll have to accept that reality one of these days.”

“But not today, hmm?”

“No.”

Lawrence smiled, and looked over to Benton’s side of the bed. He patted the empty space with his free hand, hoping his husband would somehow feel it all the way in Nova Scotia. “What’s up? Am I going to have to get out of bed for this?”

No chuckle this time, but he could hear the smile in Benton’s voice. “No. I’d appreciate some urgency, but it can certainly wait until you’ve had a couple more hours of beauty sleep.”

“Thank god. ”

“I need you to do some research on the area of Scotland that Angelica visited before she came to Port Morien.” Benton sighed on the other end. “She’s hiding something, and that’s the only thing that seems out of place to me.”

“Sure, I can do that, hon. Send me an email.”

“Thank you, Lawrence. I miss you.”

Lawr could picture Benton pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a long, deep breath. “You doing okay? This can’t be easy.”

“I’m doing alright, yes. But,” Another sigh. “You’re right. This is proving to be… difficult.”

“Maybe I should have come.”

“No. No, I think this is how it should be. I would worry about you.”

“ Aw .”

“Having Jonny here is helpful. It’s grounding, for me, to have him as a reminder of what’s here , rather than what’s gone. ”

“Good. I’m glad you two are getting things figured out.” Lawr reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, trying not to exhale audibly. 

He’d been living with Rachel Quest’s ghost for a while now, and he thought he’d done a pretty damned good job of it. Initially, it had been a struggle, especially with Jonny’s reaction to everything. But after a few years, Lawr had started to think of her like an old high school frenemy… after you’ve both grown up a little bit and realized you’re more alike than you are different. Rachel had done some very hard work with Benton, convincing him to look outside of his career long enough to see the softer things in life. He owed her a debt of gratitude for that, and — crazy and brutal as it sounds — for leaving a place for Lawrence to fill. One night, early on, he’d even gone so far as to walk out to the lighthouse and whisper a “ Thank you!” out to the ocean, hoping it would reach Rachel, wherever she was.

All that said, her memory was still exhausting to deal with sometimes.

“So, it’s pretty bad, then? Angelica, I mean.”

“Yes. I am keenly familiar with that look in her eyes; I used to see it every time I looked in the mirror.”

“I know.” 

“What’s most difficult is feeling like I can’t trust my friend. I was there, I was her. I know that craze, and I know that no one can convince her of anything right now.” Lawr could hear him take a sip of something. Benton was probably drinking entirely too much coffee on this trip. “But despite all that, I’m finding that I’m more angry with her than I realized.”

“Just because you know where she’s been, it doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be angry. Sam was one of your closest friends. This quest to bring him back affects more people than just her.”

“Yes, well,” he halfheartedly agreed. “That’s quickly becoming apparent. We had an… incident last night. I know the kids are actually adults, and they’ve handled more dire circumstances than this, but it’s been so long, I’m not used to it. To be honest, in hindsight, I can’t believe I let any of it happen in the first place, when they were children. ”

“An incident? Is everyone okay?”

“As far as I can tell. We had a hell of an experience with the ghost of this house last night. It got a hold of Jessie, somehow. Possessed her temporarily.”

A ball of ice settled in Lawr’s stomach. This family needed Nova Scotian ghost repellent. “Honey, that’s bad. ”

“I know. That’s what I’m focusing on today — how to protect us tonight. I’m appalled that Angelica didn’t have that facet of her investigation covered! I shouldn’t have assumed that she had. She’s just been… she’s been frolicking around this house, meddling with things she doesn’t understand. I’m not surprised her research assistants packed up and left.” He waited a moment, then cleared his throat. “I will say, though,” he said, his voice shifting in tone. “While this is all very heavy, I must admit that I am, selfishly, finding it to be quite exciting. I feel 10 years younger, and watching the kids together again is wonderful.”

Lawrence smiled and stretched. “I’ll just bet it is. Has anybody scaled a rocky cliff yet? Discovered an ancient relic that contains the key to all existence?”

Benton laughed. “No, no that hasn’t happened yet. Although…” His voice trailed off, but playfully.

That had Lawr sitting up straight. He abruptly settled into the fact that he wasn’t going back to sleep. “Tell me. Everything. I’m a lonely man, abandoned by my husband to waste away on this rocky coastline alone with two whippersnappers who only leave the guest bedroom for food and oxygen. Gossip is all I have left.”

More laughter from Benton. This was one of the reasons they worked so well together; Lawrence wasn’t one to let his husband settle into a funk. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but something is definitely going on between them. They seem to be warming up to each other… and then cooling off and warming up and so on and so forth.”

“ Oooooh!” The lonely, abandoned man squealed gleefully and threw the blankets off of himself. It was time for coffee. “Just a sec, honey, let me put my headphones in. I might as well get coffee going.”

“I really am sorry for waking you up so early, Lawr. I just don’t anticipate much alone time today.”

Lawr put his earbuds in and waited a second for them to connect to his phone. There, he thought. Now he could properly gesture. “Benton Quest, if you have details about Jonny and Jessie, you can wake me up at literally any time, day or night. This is the sustenance on which I thrive.” He wiggled his feet into his slippers, shrugged on a bathrobe, and snuck out into the hallway.

“Well, to be clear, if you want anything more than the phrase ‘palpable sexual tension,’ you’re going to have to ask Hadji about it because I don’t think Race or I can muster the strength.”

Lawrence whisper-squealed halfway down the staircase. 

“Are they touching each other?”

“Sometimes.”

“And then, do they pull away from each other when someone looks at them?”

“Yes.”

Another squeal. “ Oh my god that’s my favorite. ” 

Benton exhaled dramatically. “Heavens, Laurence, you’re incorrigible. I love you. I’ll send you an email shortly.”

“ No! Unacceptable.”

“Love, I need to start getting ready for my day.”

“One detail. One measly crumb for a poor, starving soul.”

Another sip on the other end of the line. “Well. When we docked at Port Morien, I looked up, out of the cabin, and caught them…” Dr. Quest lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “ Holding hands. ”

“What! Both hands? Like, four hands?” Lawrence quickly padded into the kitchen, heading for the coffee pot.

“Just two. Her left, his right, resting on the railing of the Questor.”

“What were the other two hands doing?”

“Well, for a brief moment, my son brought his hand up to my best friend’s daughter’s face and gently grazed his thumb over her cheekbone, and it was both very charming and very uncomfortable for me to watch. Is that what you were hoping for?”

Lawrence sighed wistfully and poured water into the coffee pot. He pushed the brew button. “Oh, yes. Yes, this will sustain me for a couple of days.”

“Thank goodness. I’d hate to return home to a romance-starved shell of a man.”

“Well, I shouldn’t complain. Tina and Duke are certainly not short on romance. They’re just not all that interested in talking to me about it at the moment. So, you’re a lifesaver. I can’t wait to get the whole story from you, in person, while you rub my feet.”

“I would love nothing more.”

They both sat there for a few seconds with nothing left to say, reluctant to hang up. The coffee brewed noisily in the background, and Lawrence finally sighed. “Come home safe to me, Benton Quest.”

“I will, Lawrence.”

“Maybe set up a camera somewhere, like in the hallway most likely to host a bout of secret, dramatic kissing.”

“I’ll do my best. Talk soon, Lawr.”

“Bye, sweetie. Love you.”

“I love you.”

***

Jessie tore into the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She was starving . 

The kitchen was bright and cheerful, and Race was humming to himself while he made breakfast for everyone. She smiled at him. She knew it helped him feel like he was taking care of her, without stepping on her adult toes. Angelica hadn’t emerged from her room at all yet, and everyone else was in various stages of getting ready for the day. She could see out the window to the coastline, and watched the sun rise over it for a few minutes, taking in all the clinking kitchen sounds and her dad’s off-key musical talents. 

She took a sip of her coffee. Wondered what in the hell was in the cards for her today.

“Good bacon, Dad.”

“Glad you like it, Kiddo.”

She took another sip. Slow, deliberate. 

“I’m okay. Okay? I promise.”

Race laid some cooked bacon on a paper towel and turned toward her. “You sure? I may not like talking about feelings, but I ain’t stupid. I know it helps.”

“Jonny, ah, sat with me last night, talked things through with me. I feel better, and I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and figure out this mystery.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Mystery? Do you mean, what Angie’s up to?”

Jessie shook her head. “Nope. I want to figure out what happened to Eleanora.”

Race leaned against the counter. “Now, it’s my understanding she got about the shortest end of the stick you can get, and then she died sad and alone, without her last wishes bein’ honored. I’d say I’d probably stick around and haunt people if that’s how things shook out for me.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. I think there’s more to the story.”

“Well, ‘course there is, Ponchita. Always is.”

Jessie tore a piece of bacon in half with her fingers, and took a thoughtful bite. “Something feels off, Dad.”

“Now that , I agree with. I’m just not sure how much it has to do with Eleanora.”

“You think Dr. Olssen is—”

“Awake yet?” Race’s voice increased in volume, and an over-friendly grin spread across his face. He gave Jessie a pointed look. “Sure looks like it. Mornin’ Doc.”

“Good morning, Race.” Angelica stepped into the kitchen and inhaled deeply. “This smells delicious!” She placed her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “And, Jessie. How did you sleep?”

Jessie knew the gesture was supposed to be warm and reassuring, but the pressure of the woman’s hand on her shoulder felt anything but.

“Ah, well, it took me a while to fall asleep, but once I did, I was out like a light.”

“That’s so good to hear. And I’m happy to see that you have an appetite. My assistants were often quite hungry the morning after an encounter.”

The bite she’d just swallowed turned to glue in her throat. “What kind of encounters did your assistants experience?”

Angelica poured herself a cup of coffee and set it on the table next to Jessie. She took a plate from the counter and slid some eggs and bacon onto it. “Well, certainly nothing like what you experienced last night! Truly, that was fascinating. ” She sat at the table, took a quick, tiny bite of eggs. She chewed the bite thoroughly, swallowed, then dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I’ll need to know what she said to you, of course.”

“I, ah, I mean, she didn’t really— ”

“I could distinctly see both your lips moving.”

“Aw, Ang, let her eat her bacon in peace!”

With impeccable timing, Jonny swooped into the kitchen, clad in a tight, moisture-wicking t-shirt and an olive green pair of very, very short running shorts. Thankful for the sudden interruption, Jessie chuckled nervously and elbowed him in the arm.

“How in the hell do you keep your thighs from chafing?”

Jonny laughed. “Mysteries of the universe, Ace.”

Jessie scoffed.

He grinned. “Also, I’ve got this thing that looks like a stick of deodorant that I rub on them and… they don’t chafe.”

Race shut the stove off and wiped his hands on a towel. “Any chance we could stop talking about Jonny’s thighs?”

Jessie blushed and took a sip of coffee. She could feel Angelica staring at her, and it made her want to run out of the room and never look back. She was, indeed, letting Jessie eat her bacon in peace, but it was clear Dr. Olssen wasn’t feeling all that patient.

Jonny put together a plate of breakfast and poured himself a giant glass of water. He tipped his head back and chugged the whole thing in a matter of seconds. He filled the glass back up, poured himself a cup of coffee, and mixed in his usual ridiculous amount of cream and sugar. She smiled. They hadn’t had any fancy creamer at the little grocery store, so sugar would have to do.

He turned toward the table, balancing plate, glass, and mug, and sent Jessie a goofy grin. Despite the frigid stare from Angelica and an anxious mental haze from the night before, Jessie felt a warmth bloom in her chest. She smiled back at him, and he sat down on the other side of her, slipping his hand discreetly under the table as he did. His fingertips brushed over the back of her hand before giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze.

The gesture wasn’t overly dramatic, but it was exactly what she needed: he’d met her fear and discomfort with care, and she was grateful for it. She took another sip of coffee, then met Angelica’s eyes. 

“I think Eleanora is heartbroken and lonely, and I don’t think she appreciates what you’re doing here.”

Dr. Olssen dabbed at her mouth again with her napkin, and matched Jessie’s gaze. “Interesting.”

“For a few moments, at first, when she took me over, I felt what I think were some of her memories.” Jessie paused, took a slow breath. “The sound of your equipment, by the way, came close to driving me insane.”

“My apologies.”

“I felt the sensation of your husband being ripped through me.” Her voice was quiet, but simmering. Saliva started filling her mouth, the memory of it all bringing back an overwhelming nausea. “You reduced her to almost nothing. She was just a sliver of energy, a speck of dust, watching helplessly while yet another man stole the air she was breathing.”

“Yet another man?”

Jessie blinked. She wasn’t sure where that had come from.

“Ah, yeah. I’m not—” 

“Being overtaken by an entity can do many strange things to a person’s mind.”

For a split second, Jessie’s vision flashed white. She barely realized what was happening as she stood up abruptly, knocking her chair onto the floor behind her. “I am well aware of that fact,” she shouted, and slammed her hand down on the table, rattling Jonny’s fork on his plate.

The room fell silent. Race and Jonny exchanged glances, both unsure of whether or not they should intervene. Angelica’s eyebrow had raised dramatically, and Jessie couldn’t tell if it was out of surprise from her outburst or a new interest in what she had said.

A heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Dr. Quest’s calm voice gave her something to focus on.

“Angelica. Did you do any kind of ritual, or attempt communication with Eleanora before you began your experiments?”

The blonde woman scoffed. “Of course not. Are you asking me if I asked her for permission?”

“Yes.”

“Then, no. I did no such thing. This is simply science. An exchange of energy.”

Benton leveled his gaze at his old friend. “Many people would argue the same thing about love.”

They stared at each other, unflinchingly. And while Jessie was curious as to who would cave first, Jonny clearly had very little interest in the discomfort of the situation. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and got up to retrieve the fallen chair from the floor. 

“Maybe we all just need a change of scenery? Being cooped up for too long in a haunted house can’t be good for anyone, right?” He grinned at everyone, a little desperately. “I went for a run on that road that hugs the coastline and it was awesome. Seriously. I’m a new man! Maybe we should head out to the cemetery today; I know Hadj is super curious about it.”

Jessie huffed and took the chair out of his hands, eliciting a look of hurt and confusion from him. She sighed. She wasn’t mad at him, really. Quite the opposite. Having him near her, reaching for her hand under the table… it was exactly what she wanted . What she’d wanted for a long time, whether she’d been able to admit it or not.

She was , however, annoyed at his inability to let people be upset. The slightest hint of unpleasantness and he was always the first one to crack a joke or change the subject.

He’d certainly had no problem letting her be upset for the past three years.

That’s when Jessie noticed the sharp smell in her nose, and the tingle at the back of her neck. Benton’s warm hand on her left shoulder was a sharp contrast with the sudden, cold weight on her right. She could feel the resentment toward Jonny bubbling up in her chest, and this time, she knew it wasn’t hers alone.

“No,” she said, brushing forcefully at her right shoulder. “Please, not right now.”

“Okay, Jess, wow. I’m sorry. I just thought—” 

“No, Jonny, sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Angelica stood up abruptly. “Does no one else smell that? And do you not notice the temperature of this room?” She narrowed her eyes. “Jessie?”

“It was Eleanor, again.”

Race started. “Ponchita, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad. She’s too weak to do anything big, I can feel it. Last night must have drained her.”

“In all the time we’ve been here, we never experienced any daytime manifestations.” Angelica closed the gap between her and Jessie with a few quick steps. “Both times, it’s been in this kitchen, and both times it’s been you. What is it about you?” She reached up and put a hand on Jessie’s cheek.

Jessie flinched, and Dr. Olssen withdrew her hand. 

“Do you have ancestors from Nova Scotia? Greece? Scotland?” She turned to Race.

“Scotland, yeah, but they’re all accounted for. Ain’t no Eleanora growing from our tree.” 

Jonny sent a smirk toward Race. “I knew you had a kilt vibe about you.”

“You makin’ fun of kilts, kid?” Race chuckled. “I could kick your ass six ways to Sunday in a kilt.”

Jessie let a small smile creep onto her lips. Despite her momentary rage, she was grateful for the Quest team’s resident jokers. They weren’t always funny, but they always knew how to break up the tension so they could regroup and get to work. “I want to go into town.”

Benton gave Jessie’s shoulder another squeeze, then made his way toward the coffee pot. “Port Morien?”

“No, Glace Bay. Dad and I drove past this building — it looks like they turned the old town hall into a museum. I’d like to get an idea of the local history.”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, my friend.” Everyone turned toward the hall, finding Hadji smiling in the doorway. “May I join you?”

She smiled back. “Of course, Hadj.”

Jonny skipped the smile and went straight to a beaming, mischievous grin. “I think the grown ups can stay home and be grumpy together.” He crossed his arms. “I’m driving.”

***

The air was bright and warm, punctuated with an elusively cool, salty breeze that came out of nowhere every once in a while, reminding Jessie that the ocean was nearby no matter what. Even if they went as far inland as they could, the water would still be all around them. 

Just a year ago, that kind of thing would have filled her with a simmering anxiety, but it now felt like a welcome constant. A truth she could keep in her pocket.

She paused to take another deep, deliberate inhale. 

It was, as her mother would say, a delicious day. Delicious enough for a drive through the Nova Scotian countryside with the top off the Jeep. 

She looked toward Birch House; Jonny and Hadji were still inside, waiting for Race to finish making his grocery list. She shrugged. She’d taken a soft top off a Jeep before… so what if it was over a decade ago?

Jessie started on the sides, unzipping the windows and placing them gently in their storage bag. Race’s voice was in her ear, drawling about not scratching them, and she smiled to herself. It was just like riding a bike — it was all coming back to her.

She unlatched the top portion of the roof, and grunted as she folded it back into itself behind the backseat of the vehicle. 

“Hell, yeah,” she whispered, and took a moment to admire her handiwork before stepping up into the passenger seat to wait for the guys. 

She had just enough time to stare out into the woods and wonder what was out there before Jonny and Hadji burst out the front door of the mansion, shopping list in Hadji’s hand.

“Whoah, thanks Jess!” Jonny held his hand up for a high five as he approached her. She met his hand with hers, eager for both his approval and another excuse to touch him. The way he looked at her was light and airy, his eyes flashing with a mischief that had the blood rushing to her cheeks. She turned to Hadji, watching him climb into the back of the Jeep.

“Let me guess. Dad’s ‘small shopping list’ evolved a little bit?”

Hadji’s laugh was genuine, but just uncomfortable enough to make her raise an eyebrow. “Ah, well, no,” he said. “It’s still a fairly small list.”

“Then what the hell took so long?”

Jonny opened the driver’s side door and met her eyes solemnly, his previous lightheartedness nowhere to be found. “Your pops thought Hadj and I needed a bit of a reminder that you’re a fragile tigerlily, and that we should protect your delicate sensibilities at all cost.”

Jessie’s eyes widened so abruptly, she could feel her eyebrows shoot halfway up her forehead. “What!?”

The grim line of his mouth split open into a grin, and his eyes glinted with mischief. “Ah, I’m just giving you hell. Kind of.”

Hadji climbed into the backseat, then sighed. “Well, he did give us a talk. But he most certainly did not call you a tigerlily.”

Jessie could feel her pulse rising dangerously. She took a deep breath. 

“Whoah, there, Ace. He’s just worried about you.” Jonny leaned over the passenger seat and shoved the door open from the inside, peering out at her expectantly. “Which I get can be annoying, but he did just watch you get possessed by a ghost, and then had to listen to you comment on my muscular thighs.”

She rolled her eyes, smiled reluctantly, and climbed into the jeep.

***

Jessie’s hair whipped frantically around her head once Jonny got up to speed on the highway, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she scrambled to collect it all in a hair tie.

Hadji cleared his throat from the back. “You’re not going to make me remind you of the speed limit, are you?”

“Nobody’s making you do anything, Hadj.” Jonny turned to grin at Jessie. She gave him a stern look. 

“Listen, I know the cost doesn’t really matter, but I can tell you both our dads will be pissed if they have to deal with a Canadian speeding ticket.”

“Agreed, my friend.” Hadji chuckled. “Also, I would rather not have a heart attack. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a vehicle with Jonny when he has that look in his eyes.”

Jonny laughed hard at that, and wrangled a rogue lock of hair, pushing it behind his ear.

“Let’s make a deal. It’s Sunday morning, right? Everyone’s in church, preparing their souls. Which is why there isn’t a soul to be found on this road.”

Jessie turned in her seat to give Hadji a skeptical look. He shrugged. 

“So give me five minutes,” Jonny did his best to sound logical and reasonable. “Five minutes to drive like a bat out of hell, and you can time me. I’m about to spend the rest of my day digging through books and being quiet in a museum. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

Hadji tightened his seatbelt, and Jessie reached up to grab the rumble bar.

Somehow they both managed to shout “Five minutes!” at the same time. 

Jonny threw a fist up through the open roof. “Slammin!” 

He didn’t even turn the radio on, just smashed his foot onto the gas pedal and let a peal of laughter burst out of his mouth as the tires squealed.

Jessie’s body slammed back into her seat, and she flicked her gaze over to the clock on the dash. 9:34. She closed her eyes; it would be over soon.

The roar of the engine built in her ears as her heart shuffled up into her throat. She hadn’t hurtled through space like this in — Jesus — when was the last time she’d tasted even the slightest hint of adrenaline? Up until a couple of nights ago, her life had been inching along at a snail’s pace. 

The steadily increasing rev of the Jeep finally settled into a consistent hum, and she opened her eyes. 9:36. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the speed. Trees were blasting past them in vibrant colors, like they were jumping through hyperspace. But the ride was smooth, and she trusted Jonny’s reflexes, his skills, his brain.

The jury was still out on his heart. 

She exhaled. Jonny heard that, and glanced over at her.

“Come on, Ace. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

9:38.

A hand reached between them and firmly smacked Jonny on the side of the head.

“Eyes on the road, my friend!”

“Ow, Hadj!”

“Make eyes at Jessie later!”

“Hey, now! That’s dangerous, dude. I’m driving here,” Jonny smiled mischievously as he focused on the road ahead, but he couldn’t hide the blush that had bloomed on his cheeks.

The tightness in Jessie’s chest released lightly, and was traded in for an eager tingling. She did love this, she did know this feeling. The danger, the electricity, paired with the certainty that everything would be fine. And if it wasn’t , she could deal with it.

It hadn’t all been a dream. She had been brave, once.

A laugh tinkled out of her, and she closed her eyes again, this time to better enjoy the wind on her face. She didn’t see the clock change to 9:39.

Just as she had finally settled into the pace, the Jeep began to decelerate, and she heard both Jonny and Hadji sigh simultaneously.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Hadji’s whole body relaxed into the back seat. “I must admit, I am quite out of practice when it comes to adventuring.”

“I’ll say. Five minutes of going a little too fast in a regular, old, normal car and you’re ready for a nap!” Jonny reached up to the dash and turned on the radio. Familiar, tinny ‘80s synth notes spilled out into the air. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

He flashed Jessie a grin. “Ready to go dig through a bunch of boring old books?”

She grinned back. “Absolutely.”

***

Lawrence zipped up his luggage and stood at the foot of his bed with his hands on his hips, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten. He could hear Tina packing up food in the kitchen, and he imagined Duke was just about finished prepping the QuestJet.

He wasn’t used to being in charge… at least, not in such an obvious way. Usually he ruled the roost quietly from the background, while Benton called the shots more publicly.

This time, though, Lawrence was spearheading the trip to Scotland, and he had to admit he was nervous. Mostly about disappointing Benton.

He did his best to shake off his anxiety, and lifted the suitcase off the king-sized bed, pulling up on the handle so he could roll it out into the hallway.

The front door opened and closed and Jenna’s earthy laugh filled the house, rolling up the stairs, melting Lawr’s nerves away. He rushed out to the top of the staircase and flashed her a grateful smile. “I’m so glad you found someone to watch Rachel!”

She returned a grin. “If you’re going to Scotland, I’m coming with you. And if I’m coming with you, you can bet that I’ll be getting drunk in a pub.” She leaned her suitcase up against the wall. “And if I’m getting drunk in a pub, Rach is staying home.”

Lawr laughed as he came down to meet her. “Well, that’s that then.”

“Yep. It’s science.” She gave him a big hug, and kissed him on the cheek. “For real, Lawr, thanks for inviting me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a little left out.”

He sighed. “I get it, hon. Just because we have to accept all of that,” he flailed his hands around briefly, gesturing at the room in general. “Quest… history… doesn’t mean we always have to like it.”

They were interrupted by the wheels of a rolling cooler as Tina entered the living room from the kitchen. She clapped her hands together. “Alright. I think we’re all set.”

Jenna smiled at her. “I can’t wait for all of the culinary delights you’ve got packed into that cooler.”

Tina blushed. “Aw, you’re too much, Jen! It’s just chicken salad and—”

“With the grapes?” 

“Yes, Lawr, with the grapes. And the walnuts.”

Lawr high-fived Jenna. “Best adventure ever. ”

“You two are ridiculous!” Tina rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She was nervous, excited, terrified… all of the feelings. She was all of them. “ Anyway , there’s chicken salad and protein granola and fruit and… salt and vinegar chips, because Duke will die without them.” She took a quick glance out the window toward the small, private runway. She couldn’t see him, but just knowing Duke was out there — being competent with his hands — had her cheeks turning pink. She absentmindedly fanned herself and sat down on a nearby ottoman. “Okay,” she said. “Fill me in. We’re going to a castle?” Tina gave her head a small shake. She couldn’t believe she’d immediately said yes when Duke asked her to go with them to Scotland. 

But she knew he’d only be here for so long, and the thought of missing out on any time with him… well, it just wasn’t an option. This kind of relationship wouldn’t last forever.

Lawrence sat down on the chair that matched the ottoman. “Yes. Monzie castle, about an hour northeast of Glasgow. It’s near a standing stone that was allegedly the death site of a fairly notorious witch named Kate McNiven.”

Jenna leaned against Lawr’s favorite bookshelf, which was full of smutty romance novels instead of what he called intellectual tomes . “It’s pretty fascinating. Kate’s existence in and of itself is disputed just as much as her death. Some people even refer to her as ‘Nicnevin,’ which is a name with even more legend attached to it — Queen of the Faeries, the ‘Scottish Hecate’ — and there are a lot of conflicting stories.”

Tina raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so why, exactly, are we heading there again? And why is it such an emergency?”

Lawr ran a hand through his hair. “Well, Dr. Olssen’s private jet landed at Glasgow Airport, and she rented a car that she took straight to Monzie Castle. She stayed one night there, drove back to her jet, and then flew a beeline to Nova Scotia.”

Jenna nodded. “Something’s fishy. And the current owners of the castle are denying she ever stayed there.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s weird. And the emergency part?”

Lawr’s lips formed a thin line. “Ben called me this morning. He said things are getting dangerous, for Jessie specifically. Something isn’t adding up, and Olssen isn’t opening up. He needs our help. He’s got a hunch that Scotland is the key, and you know how I feel about Benton’s hunches.” 

Tina smiled. “He’s got good hunches, that’s for sure.”

“So, we’re going. We’ve got Duke, we’ve got you girls, and we’ve got whatever it is that I can contribute to this party.”

“Now, Lawr, you know we couldn’t do this without you.”

They all turned to see Duke leaning against the counter in the kitchen, holding a sandwich that Tina must have made earlier. “You’re the heart of this operation.” He grinned, then took a giant bite.

Jenna clapped her hands together. “Well, it sounds like we’ve got everything we need. Heart, science, sandwiches, and…” She raised an eyebrow at Duke. “... sex appeal.”

Tina blushed. Again. Lawr shook his head, chuckling.

Duke let out a whoop. 

“Watch out Scotland, here comes the B Team!”

Chapter Text

Jonny was on a mission.

A mission to woo.

He chuckled to himself. What a dumb word.

It may have sounded dumb, but it was happening anyway.

Something had fallen away between them the night before — a barrier, an obstacle… maybe even a layer of mistrust — and he felt renewed, with a sliver of hope.

He’d decided it in the jeep, in those delicious five minutes of speed on the highway. Both of his friends had held their breath for him, closed their eyes, and trusted him not to get them killed. They had been doing that for most of their lives — having faith in him, knowing the things he loved, and putting themselves out so that he could enjoy himself. 

Maybe that was a little dramatic, but it was mostly true. He wasn’t the world’s most thoughtful guy. He had his moments, sure, but he was always on the go, constantly distracted by the excitement around him… sometimes to the detriment of the people closest to him.

That was all gonna change.

He was going to flip that narrative, and he didn’t care how embarrassing it was. 

Well, he cared a little . He knew he’d get weird looks and raised eyebrows from his dad, from Race. But he didn’t care. He was going to be a better brother to Hadji, and he was going to give this new phase of life with Jessie what it deserved: 

Effort.

Their whole life together had been casual and informal. They had all been tossed into living together like roommates with some ceremony; their dads had sat down with them and explained the situation, asked how they felt about it… but after that it was business as usual. Jessie lived in the guest room across the hall from Hadji and Jonny’s room, and eventually Hadji moved out into the upstairs sunroom when he got old enough to want his own space.

Jonny couldn’t let his feelings for Jessie casually morph into a relationship without any fanfare, without the ceremony it was owed. If it turned into a relationship at all.

So, when they pulled to a stop in front of the grocery store, he hopped out of the Jeep as quickly as he could, jogged over to the passenger side door, and opened it before Jessie could get her seatbelt off.

She stared at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. It was awkward.

That was fine. There was going to be a lot more awkward , if he could stay the course, and he’d just have to weather through it.

The grocery trip was quick, but not so quick that he didn’t have time to browse the bakery case. While Hadji and Jessie headed down the breakfast aisle, Jonny picked out a small box of brightly colored mini macarons and paid for it at the bakery register. He tucked the box into his jacket pocket.

After they secured the groceries in the back of the Jeep, he opened her door for her again. She put a hand on his chest and playfully pushed him back from it before shutting the door and opening it again for herself. She gave him a good, hard stare.

“Jonny. What in the hell are you up to?”

He grinned at her. “Just trying to be chivalrous.”

She stared at him a little more before climbing into the Jeep. She was still staring at him as he took two steps closer to her. “And romantic. ”

Jessie’s eyes widened and she let out a small squeak. “ Jonny. ” She glanced over to Hadji quickly, a bright blush spreading across her cheeks. She shut the door a little more forcefully than she meant to, and snapped her head forward. 

Hadji met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. But he was smiling. Jonny leaned in close to his brother and whispered, “Don’t give me too much hell, okay?”

Hadji’s smile widened. “Never, my friend. I’m proud of you for being honest. It is hard to watch you two miscommunicate yourselves into oblivion,” he whispered back. Hadji clapped Jonny on the shoulder warmly, then hopped into the back of the vehicle. 

The drive to the Glace Bay Heritage Museum was a quick and quiet one. Jessie fidgeted with her seatbelt silently while Hadji and Jonny chatted about the scenery and the town. The museum itself was housed in the old Town Hall; a tall, three-storey brick building with a widow’s walk on top. The curator was a friendly woman named Beth, with shoulder-length, honey-and-brown wavy hair, and a rectangular pair of tortoiseshell glasses hanging from a beaded chain around her neck. Thrilled by their unfamiliar faces and the always-exciting prospect of new people being interested in history, she led them down into the basement after a pleasant-but-fruitless chat about Eleanora.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more for you  — I so rarely get people genuinely interested in research, it feels like a shame.” Beth sent them an apologetic smile before stepping off the final stair.

Jessie sighed quietly, but not that quietly. They all heard it. Jonny nudged her arm with his elbow — it wasn’t the curator’s fault.

Hadji smiled, trying to make up for Jessie’s obvious disappointment. “We are very grateful for the chance to look for something new! Thank you for giving us access.”

“Of course!” Beth smiled more broadly now, and gestured for them to follow her to the back of the basement.

The lowest level of the Glace Bay Heritage Museum was mostly an exhibit highlighting the Jewish history of the town, but there was an area of desks and bookshelves in the back that held various historical documents, including a small shelf of books and papers pertaining to Port Morien.

“Like I said, we’ve got records documenting the wooden stool, donated to the museum by a family in town, and there’s record of Eleanora’s burial — not in Blackbrook Cemetery of course, but in the woods. Unfortunately, that’s all I know of for sure.”

Jonny watched as Jessie beelined to the bookshelves without a word, her fingertips lightly grazing spines, her eyes flicking from book to book. His chest tightened a little; Jessie was rarely outright rude, and when she was it was either because she was anxious about something… or because someone had broken her heart. He smiled at Beth, and stepped over to the bookshelves as well.

“Has there been any official research done on Eleanora?” Hadji asked.

“Aside from that Dr. Olssen woman? Not really. To be honest, though we do have a record of her existence, Eleanora is really more of a legend than anything. A reason for kids to get into trouble out in the woods and the cemetery.”

Hadji nodded. “Thank you, Beth.” He looked over at the bookshelves, and his friends. “I’m sure we’ll find something useful.” 

“Augh!”

Jessie slammed closed the book she was holding, puffing her hair up briefly around her face.

“There’s nothing useful here.”

Hadji put a hand on her shoulder. “The curator did say there was not much written down about Eleanora.”

She exhaled noisily. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jonny flipped absentmindedly through the book he was holding. He had already read through it, but he was stalling. His brain was tapped out on research, and he didn’t want to open another one.

Plus, he was pretty distracted, he had to admit. When Jessie Bannon was in mission-mode, she was impressive. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes took on an intensity that made them look even more green than they usually were. 

Maybe that was just in his head.

He shook himself. He was trying to be helpful . It had always been his MO to do as little research as possible while Hadji and Jessie did the “brain work.” It was always his turn to take action once it was clear what needed to be done. His instincts told him that was for the best; everyone brings their own strengths, and forcing skills that aren’t there simply isn’t effective. But he’d always felt guilty about it, and a little self-conscious.

Jessie sighed heavily, and rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. Her eyes were squinched shut, and her lips were pursed in a tight frown. Jonny allowed a small frown of his own; she tended to get over-invested in projects on a pretty regular basis, but he knew this was different. It’s hard to get more “invested” than “possessed by a ghost.”

“Hey, Ace, don’t give up.” Jonny set his book down. He may not have been great at dusty, old book research, but he could sure as hell give a gentle pep talk. “We’re gonna find something, I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

She popped open her left eye and shot him a skeptical glare. She closed it again. “Gut feelings aren’t facts, Jonny.”

He chuckled, and pulled out the seat next to her. “Yeah, well, how many times have my gut feelings let you down?”

As soon as the words left his lips, he froze. He’d followed his gut alright — all the way out of the country for three years. He steeled himself for her to remind him of it.

But she didn’t. She just pushed on her temples a little harder, and sighed again.

“Listen, Jess, if there’s anyone who can find a needle in this haystack, it’s you or Hadj.” He lifted his hand to give her shoulder a squeeze, but chickened out at the last second. He was suddenly feeling useless again.

He looked at his watch. 12:43. When light optimism fails, the next option is always food. He could definitely make himself useful by running to get them something to eat.

He put a hand on his stomach. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a lobster roll.”

“Hmm.” Jessie looked at her watch. “Wow, yeah. I didn’t realize how long we’d been down here.”

Hadji popped out from behind the bookcase he was browsing. “That’s a fantastic idea, my friend. I wasn’t aware of how hungry I was until you said ‘lobster roll.’”

Jonny chuckled. “Since when do you eat lobster?”

“I don’t! That’s how hungry I am — even lobster sounds good at this point.”

Jonny stood up. “Well, we’d better get some food then, stat. ” He looked at Jessie. “Two lobster rolls and fries for us, and something veg for you, Hadj?”

Hadji put his hand on Jonny’s shoulder and gave him a light push back down toward the chair. “I’ll get lunch.” He stretched. “I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in ages.”

A small thrill made its way up Jonny’s spine. He hadn’t planned on any alone time with Jessie today. He sent Hadji a grateful glance.

“I am assuming you want a side of gravy for your french fries?” He snatched the dangling jeep keys out of Jonny’s hand.

Jessie opened her eyes, finally, and flashed him a small smile. “You know me well, Hadj.”

“Of course I do. I’ll be back soon, bearing extra gravy.”

And Hadji was gone, leaving only the sound of his footsteps above them.

In the sudden quiet, Jonny was immediately overcome by a feeling of awkwardness, which was the opposite of what he was going for. Jessie had one hand to her temple again, and the other was fiddling with the corner of the book she’d been looking through. He could hear her breath, shaky and quick, mingled with the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and covered her hand with his.

She turned to him abruptly, a question forming on her lips.

“Be careful with the corner of that book, Ace. You mess with it too much more and it’ll disintegrate.”

Jessie snatched her hand away and hissed, angry at herself. “Oh my gosh! I didn’t even realize.”

The loss of her hand from under his brought that tight feeling back to his chest, and he closed his fingers into his palm. He knew she’d pulled her hand away from the book, and not necessarily him , but it still stung. He wanted to be able to touch her, without needing a reason to.

He tried to fix his eyes on hers, but she had gone back to staring hard at the pages in front of her. Was she avoiding his gaze? Had she just fallen back into research mode? Either way, she wasn’t making eye contact, and he wanted to see her green eyes again. Wanted her to see him, to get her to understand that he was here for good. That she wasn’t in this alone.

Maybe he didn’t need a reason. He took a breath. Maybe he could touch her, simply to feel her skin on his.

She had replaced her offending hand back onto the desk, and was keeping it a few inches away from the book. 

Jonny decided to go for it.

He reached over and slid his right hand into her left, letting his thumb rest on the back of her hand, letting the rest of his fingers graze her palm. 

She sucked in a breath.

So did Jonny, but he wanted to get the first word in. 

“Hey,” he breathed out. He let his thumb rub a gentle circle on the back of her hand. He hoped it was welcome… he hoped it felt nice. “Can you tell me what happened? I can fill Hadj in later, so you don’t have to go through it twice.”

She swallowed. She didn’t pull her hand away. “Do you remember Mornay Island?”

He resisted the urge to scoff. Of course he did. “Of course I do, Jess.”

“So you remember what it was like? To have someone… taking you over?”

He shuddered. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know about you, but for me, it felt like I was trapped in a dark room. Like, the dark room was… my mind maybe? I knew I couldn’t get out, and yet I could see everything. I could see what was happening, I could see Caroline’s hands — my hands… shoving you off the balcony, wrapping my fingers around your throat. And I felt so helpless, and angry and scared for you… but I didn’t feel her feelings, you know? I didn’t personally want to strangle you — I just couldn’t stop it.”

Sunlight was shining brightly into the basement from the many window wells, but Jonny felt anything but warm; it felt like he’d swallowed a chunk of ice. He hadn’t really talked about being possessed with anyone but Hadji, and that had been a long time ago. You’d think he and Jessie would have talked about it… and maybe they would have, had they not ended the haunting with their first-ever kiss. It brought up feelings they’d done a good job of ignoring, and neither one of them had been prepared to face them.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds pretty similar to what I experienced. Helpless. God, I hate feeling helpless.”

“Yeah, well, at least you don’t have to live with the image of your own hands strangling your best friend.”

The chunk of ice melted, just a little bit. Best friend. They really had been.

“That shit haunts me, Jonny.” She chuckled, darkly. “No pun intended.”

Jonny slid his hand further into hers, interlocking their fingers. “You know I don’t blame you for that, right? Like at all. That would be insane.”

“No, I know. But I can’t get the picture out of my head.” She looked down at their hands, thoughtfully. Then her eyes flicked up to his, and locked on. “This was different.”

“How?”

“I was so happy to sit on that little wooden stool. It felt like home. Like it was mine. I missed my dad so much — I knew, deep down in my bones, that he was dead… even though he was alive and well in that basement with me. That he’d been dead for so long. It felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest, that no one could patch.” She squeezed Jonny’s hand. “Jonny. God, Jonny, are you sad just all the time? Missing your mom? Is that what you feel like all the time?”

His throat tightened up, like someone had fastened a belt around it. This was not where he’d expected the conversation to go. “It’s always there, yeah. These days it’s so much more quiet, but I always know. I can always tell things are just wrong. Because she’s not here.” He reached up and put his free hand on top of their clasped ones. “But the gaping wound feeling? That’s not constant, no. It comes and goes. Much less frequently now.”

Jessie nodded. “It was so unsettling. I felt it. And when I shoved you — your poor head — I wanted that. I wanted you to hurt, and bleed. I was so happy you were bleeding.” She broke eye contact with him. “Christ. What I wouldn’t give to have been trapped in that dark room again. To know that I had no control over the situation.”

She may have looked away, but Jonny was paying attention. He watched the single tear making a track down her cheek, and pushed the book out of the way before it could land on it. A dark spot on dusty wood. She stared at it.

“Jessie, you didn’t. You didn’t have any control. She took over your body. End of story.”

She looked back up at him. Opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. He wasn’t born yesterday; he knew what it looked like when someone was keeping something from him. That was fine. She’d told him plenty for now.

Time for another risk.

He lifted their clasped hands up and brought the back of her hand to his lips. He held it there for a moment, letting his eyes rest on hers, trying to communicate to her that she was safe, and that he didn’t blame her for anything.

He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but what he knew for sure was that she hadn’t pulled her hand away from him. He planted a quick, deliberate kiss where his lips had been resting, and gave her hand another squeeze. “Okay. So, you’re feeling Eleanora’s feelings. I can see how that scared the shit out of you. What’s with the drive, though? You seemed pretty… rabid earlier.”

Jessie’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah. Sorry.” She exhaled slowly, thinking. “I don’t know, I guess, part of it… the thing that I can’t get out of my head was the feeling that she had been so wronged. Utterly betrayed. Like, she had trusted someone to—” Her eyebrows furrowed, and Jessie looked up worriedly at Jonny. She’d stopped herself again. “I don’t know. I feel like she deserves… justice. For something.”

“Hmm.” He was tracing light circles on her hand again. “Okay. And you want to solve the mystery.”

“I mean, yeah.” Her eyes were watching his thumb, and she was chewing on her bottom lip again. “Because… as much as I don’t want to admit it, I liked being in there with her. A little bit, anyway. She was being so nice to me, she was playing with my hair, and she… identified with my pain. She knew how I felt about… things.” Jessie looked up at him, finally. Her eyes had a pleading look to them. “I felt some empathy for Lady Caroline, back then. I could understand how devastated she must have felt… but I didn’t feel connected to her. I feel like I’m tied to Eleanora now. Like I left something with her, and she gave something to me.”

“Okay. Wow. That’s… I don’t know Jess, that’s concerning.”

She barked out a sarcastic laugh. “Tell me about it, Jonny!”

“Alright, yeah, I know. I just… I’m just saying.” He rested his chin in his free hand, and let out a tired exhale. “Listen, let’s take a break, okay? Maybe we can walk around outside a little bit and wait for Hadji to bring food, then we can eat out in the sunshine.” He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm?”

“There aren’t many books left—” 

“Exactly. So after you’ve given your brain a break, moved your body around a bit, and eaten a whole bunch of lobster and gravy, you’re going to absolutely blast through what books are left, and you’ll probably do a much more thorough job of it.”

Jessie stared hard at him, thinking. He was right, and she knew it. She just didn’t want to admit it. She’d read countless articles and quotes about how rest is important , and how much more productive you are when you deliberately plan breaks into your work schedule.

She’d read those things, sure. She’d even recommended those things to her friends and coworkers, but she’d never really believed them. Not for herself.

But Jonny had always believed that — long before the phrase “productivity technique” had even entered the realm of their imaginations. She used to think he was just a typical teen boy who wanted to play video games instead of doing homework… but in hindsight, Jonny had always known how to work smarter instead of harder.

“You make a solid point, Hotshot.” Her lips curved into a wide smile. She couldn’t help herself. Here he was again, reminding her of things she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Warmth spread in her chest as she remembered that, for most of her life, when Jonny told you it was going to be okay , it was.

He’d abandoned her once.

And yet, he’d been dependable over and over again. And he was here, being dependable in the very moment she was living in… rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. And it felt like home.

He smiled. “You can see my wisdom. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Oh yeah? What else can you see in my eyes?”

There was something about the way she said it… She’d slipped into a moment of comfort with him, of lightheartedness and trust, and that was apparently his kryptonite — falling back into the stride he’d done such a good job of fucking up.

She noticed the change in his eyes; she’d have to be blind not to. Hell, even if she were blind, she would have felt it. 

Her heart fluttered, nerves ignited. Yes.  

He swallowed, laced his fingers in with hers again. “I—” Suddenly his heart was pounding, and he felt flushed, like he was burning right up. His brain was swirling, and her lips were parted, just barely. Her green eyes were like a potion, casting a cloud over his thoughts, making him feel just a little crazed. Buzzing.

“I see… I can’t see anything else, Jess. Just you.” He reached up with his free hand and touched her lips, lightly, dragging his index finger along her bottom lip, thrilling with the softness of it, the hint of moisture from when she’d licked it earlier.

He’d watched her. He couldn’t lie; he was always paying attention to her mouth.

Her skin felt charged — she was electric. Yes, Jonny. Yes.

She sucked in her breath, and her emerald, mesmerizing eyes got wide, but she didn’t pull away.

So he pulled her closer.

Yes!

His hand traveled boldly from her mouth to her back, right between her shoulder blades, and he brought her to him, met her lips with his, sampled the bottom lip he’d just been admiring. 

He did his best to kiss her as sweetly as he could. 

To breathe promises into her, promises that she would believe, that she would hold close to her as truth. 

I’m not going anywhere ever again, Jessie Bannon.

“Just you,” he breathed out, almost sighing, and he untangled his left hand from hers. He slid his fingers delicately down the palm of her hand, past her wrist, and slowly up her forearm and bicep. He smiled into her lips when she shivered, and smiled even more when his hand finally made it up her arm, past her strong shoulders and slender neck, and rested gently on her cheek. He pulled back for a moment, to meet her eyes again, and had to swallow a gasp. Jessie was breathless, and she was looking at him in a way he’d never seen before.

When they had been on Mornay Island, when the ghosts had escaped their bodies and left them holding each other, locked in a kiss, it had mostly ended in shock… and a little embarrassment. They’d ripped themselves away from each other as quickly as they could. 

Make no mistake; he’d enjoyed it for the few moments between possession and realization, but those ghosts had forced their hands on something they weren’t yet ready to address.

And when they’d fucked three years ago, the first kiss had practically shredded its way out of him. He’d been desperate, he’d have committed a hundred crimes just to get his hands on her, to taste her mouth. Burnt down a building. Pawned his grandpa’s cowboy hat.

But not this time. This time she was smiling at him, and despite the awkward angle of their bodies in the rickety old chairs, she was relaxing into him, like a sweet sigh.

“We’re so much better at things when we do them together, Ace.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. He was right.

“We are,” she whispered. “You’re right, Jonny.” She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, and she pressed her lips to his again, soft and enthusiastic. Happy. “We are.”

Her kiss was everything he’d been missing; he hadn’t been sure it would be different from last time. He was worried he’d ruined it — that they’d come together again and it would be tainted by what he’d done, by the years that he’d hidden away from her. But it wasn’t; it was warm and generous and grateful, and pure magic.

He dove right in, enjoying her softness, her taste for a bit longer, and came up for air, grinning. “This chair situation isn’t gonna cut it,” he laughed, and simply lifted her up, hands firmly on her waist, planting her on his lap. 

“I — ah, Jonny!” She cried, and threw her arms around his neck for stability. He turned her so she was sitting sideways, and slid his arm behind her neck, cradling her into him. He leaned in and nipped at her bottom lip, then crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, drinking her all up.

Jessie felt like she had whiplash. Moments ago she’d have said her most prominent feelings were:

Hopeless, confused, and hungry as hell.

She was still hungry, but at least she was distracted now. How could you not be, with Jonny’s nimble fingers brushing against your throat, his solid arm holding you up, lifting you into his kiss like you weighed nothing at all?

She’d been feeling hopeless about Eleanora — if there was nothing here about her, was there anything? Anywhere?

She’d been confused about the night before. About wanting to kiss Jonny, about wanting to do way more than kiss Jonny. About being fully naked in front of the man, enjoying the slickness of his hands over her wet body, about the ball of lead in her stomach whispering, “He left you once, he’ll leave you again.”

But wrapped up in him, surrounded by books and muted sunlight and his contented sighs, with his confident words still ringing in her ears, she was having a hard time remembering why she had ever been so confused.

It had taken Jonny every inch of willpower he possessed not to set Jessie down on him with her legs on either side of his. Straddling does not typically lead to clear, rational communication. He didn’t want to be distracted by the memories of how well they fit together — he knew now that that was a good way to skip talking about things, to lose yourself in something that feels better in the moment than being honest. 

He pushed those thoughts out of his head, the ones that reminded him of how careless he’d been with the goddess in his arms. The ones that whispered to him about how many people his impulses had hurt.

Those thoughts were always loud as hell and hard to get rid of… but not with her fingers tangled in his hair, her tongue darting tentatively between his parted lips.

He moaned quietly. Screw intrusive thoughts — he’d reached the point where all he could come up with were sentence fragments. “Jess. God, Jessie.” 

Lightly, she scraped her teeth on his bottom lip. “Mmmhmm?”

“Mmm, I just —”

“Oh! Ah, oh gosh, I—”

The teenage girl’s voice was like a crack of lightning in the middle of a sunny afternoon; neither of them had heard her come down the stairs, and the shock of another human’s voice in the basement almost knocked Jessie flat out of Jonny’s lap. She gasped and jumped up, abruptly leaving Jonny feeling cold and empty. He wanted to reach out and pull her back into him, wrap her up in his arms and take her somewhere no one would find them.

He sighed and let his hands fall into his lap, taking a few breaths before turning around. He had something of a situation going on that he didn’t think some random teenage girl needed to see. Luckily, Jessie had things covered.

“Hi! Ah,” she chuckled. “Sorry about that. We didn’t hear you come downstairs. We were just about to head up and —”

“I’m Tansy.” 

Jonny turned to get a better look. The girl had shoulder-length black hair that was cut pretty bluntly, and she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a lighthouse on it. She strode confidently toward Jessie and stuck her hand out. Jessie smiled in amusement and took her hand for a firm shake.

“Jessie.”

Jonny couldn’t help but smile; the two women seemed to recognize themselves in one another.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tansy said, without a hint of humor. All business.

“No, you weren’t… we were just—” 

“You two were going to town on each other. I’m genuinely sorry to interrupt.”

The awkwardness of the situation did the trick – Jonny was more than cooled off. He pushed out of his chair and got up to greet the girl, too. “I’m Jonny.”

“Jonny and Jessie, huh?” Tansy smirked, and pulled a pack of gum out of her pocket. She unwrapped a piece, and popped it in her mouth. “So are you here to learn about my great-great-great-great-great aunt, or do you want to go back to what you were doing?”

Jonny grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “I mean–” 

Jessie elbowed him in the ribs, pulling a barking laugh out of Tansy.

“I don’t blame you, man. You guys really had something going there.” She smiled. “Tell you what, I’m going to go upstairs now, and I’ll give you two five minutes to finish that thought.” 

Jessie’s eyes widened, and she reached out to grab Tansy’s arm. “No! No, we’re fine. Did you say aunt?”

“Great-great-great-great-great. A lot of greats.” Tansy shook Jessie’s hand away playfully and turned to go back up the staircase. “Really, though. Let’s go talk in the sunshine – this basement always gives me the creeps. See you in five.” Her sneakers pounded the stairs as she took them two at a time.

Jessie turned to Jonny, a new light ignited in her eyes. “Did you hear that?”

He took a step toward her. “I did. She told us to finish our thought.”

“Jonny, we can–”

“I don’t need five minutes.”

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her into him, slid a hand down her back to the base of her spine, crushing her body to his. He kissed her firmly and thoroughly, and when he was finished, he pressed his lips to her temple. It was both tender and ferocious – he wanted to be tangled up with her, wanted to lose himself in her – but he knew she was hurting and confused, preoccupied. Vulnerable in a way lust wasn’t going to fix. Not that lust ever really fixed anything.

It wasn’t just lust. Of course it wasn’t… but it was definitely a lot of lust. He wasn’t going to lie to himself.

She looked up at him – her hips still molded to his, her arms wrapped around his waist – with a smile. “Hmm,” she said.

“Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on, shall we? I’m ready to take up some space in here,” He tapped a finger gently to her temple. “And I don’t think that’s gonna happen until we free something up.”

A look crossed over her face; he wasn’t sure of what. 

“Jonny, if you think you’re not already taking up space in my brain, you’re not using all those brain cells I know you have.”

That was a loaded statement, and he was afraid of thinking too hard about it, so he pulled her to him in a fierce hug. His dumbass decisions were always waiting for him, hiding behind a corner, ready to pounce on his happiness.

Jessie gave him a good squeeze, planted a kiss on his chest, and took him by the hand, dragging him toward the stairs. 

“Beth knows to tell my family if someone’s asking about Eleanora,” Tansy said casually. The group had found their way to a patch of grass outside the museum, and were enjoying their late lunch in the warm afternoon sun. Tansy sat cross-legged in front of the strange pod of out-of-towners, as if she were holding court. “Mom and Dad are out of town right now, so you get me.”

Jessie wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “That doesn’t really seem like normal museum protocol.”

Tansy smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Sure isn’t. It’s kind of a… tradition passed down between curators here. If someone asks about Eleanora, they call us. My family has donated a lot of money to this museum over the years.

Jonny popped a french fry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. “Okay. Obviously you’ve got our attention. What gives?”

“See, my great-great… whatever. Eleanora got screwed over, royally, and we still don’t know who the asshole is.”

“Asshole?” Jonny asked. “As in one person, singular?”

Tansy nodded. “I mean, I guess we could blame the Christian patriarchy as a whole, if we wanted to, but that’s kind of a wide scope.”

Jonny chuckled. “Okay, fair.”

“So, there’s not really a lot written about Eleanora specifically in any of the Port Morien records… but there are traces of her. Things like, women having babies in the middle of the night with the help of a nameless midwife. There’s mention of an “herbalist” here and there, but no official record of one. We know, for sure, that she did exist, because there is a record of her death, there’s a grave, there are written memories of the village burning down her house, and there’s the little wooden stool.” A shadow passed over her eyes.

Hadji nodded. “Yes, we’ve seen it.” 

Tansy’s eyebrows raised. “So you’ve been out there? Is she taking good care of it?”

“Yes, as far as we can tell.”

“Good.” The shadow faded from her gaze, but her mouth remained set in a thin line. “The thing is, there’s just nothing else out there about her. It’s like someone tried to erase her, but couldn’t quite pull it off.”

Jessie sighed, and Jonny slid his hand across the grass to hers, covering it. He knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

Tansy could tell, too. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “What do you guys want from this? Why are you here, poking around?”

The three of them exchanged a glance. They knew each other well enough to know that the truth was the only option in that moment. Jessie spoke up first.

“Dr. Olssen needed help, so here we are.”

Tansy leveled her eyes at her. “I don’t trust that lady.”

Jessie didn’t blink. “Neither do I.”

The two women stared thoughtfully at one another for a moment, while Hadji and Jonny looked on, trying to chew their food as quietly as possible. Jonny tried hard not to fidget. Had the silence lasted any longer, he would certainly have said something, anything to dissolve the tension.

Luckily, Tansy’s suspicion melted from her face, and she leaned back into her previous lazy position. “Good. My family has letters. To Eleanora, from someone. And they are scandalous .”

A squeak escaped Jessie’s throat, eliciting an amused, satisfied look from Tansy.

“Oh my god. Can we see them?”

Tansy reached into her ragged backpack, pulled out a thin stack of photocopies, and handed them to Jessie, who dove in immediately, her eyes frantically moving from line to line.

“Someone in town really loved her. And she really loved him. And then he really dumped her. And threatened her.”

A small gasp tore Jonny’s attention away from Tansy. Jessie’s hand had flown to her mouth, and her eyes were shining.

Hadji noticed, too. “Are you alright, my friend?”

Jessie didn’t respond, her eyes glued to the pages in front of her. Tansy gave Hadji and Jonny a pointed look and nodded slowly. “It’s pretty fucked up. I’m not exactly sure why she kept the letters she did, but my family has had a lot of years to speculate. We think she kept the most passionate ones from him — both good and bad.” She sighed. “The first one is one of the most romantic things I’ve ever read—”

“I have spent the entirety of my mostly miserable life ignoring anything that ignites a flame within my chest.” Jessie’s voice was shaky, but clear. “But you, Eleanora, are a kindling most precious. You might feel invisible, but I see you. I see your talent, your kind heart. You have my word, our love will see the light of day.”

Tansy nodded. “And the last one is—”

“Unforgivable,” Jessie whispered. She cleared her throat and blinked a few times, but Jonny could see the tears clinging to her eyelashes. “I never loved you. Lust consumed me, and in my weakness, I fell prey. I’m ashamed of all of it. I am ashamed of the—” she paused for a moment to wipe a tear off her cheek. “Of the memory of your skin that lingers in my mind. I refuse to let this lapse in judgment jeopardize the future I am meant to fulfill. Clear your things, leave this place, and no harm will come to you.”

The words settled around them like lead in the air. Tansy pulled at some blades of grass, and Jonny stared at the last few bites of his lobster roll with sudden distaste. 

Hadji sighed heavily. “Oh,” he murmured. “It is even worse than we thought.”

Tansy simply nodded.

“I could feel it. The betrayal, the heaviness. The wrong ,” he continued. “I thought it was because of her burial, of her wishes that were denied, but I see now. It was so much more.”

The girl quirked an eyebrow. “You could feel it? What do you mean?”

“Birch House. She is most certainly there — it’s a very pervasive feeling.”

Hadji rarely lied, but he could periodically be caught dancing around the truth. Jonny could see this was one of those moments, and he agreed with it. They’d tell Tansy more eventually — they owed her as much — but he wanted to touch base with his dad and Race first. No use in putting someone else in danger before it’s necessary.

“So where’d you get the letters?” Jonny asked.

“I don’t know how well you’ve looked at the wooden stool, but the legs are hollow. Back in the ‘60s, when my family was packing it up to donate to the museum, my grandma noticed a rattling sound and checked it out. We’d always known Eleanora was an ancestor, but there was so little about her, we’d kind of accepted it. But then we found the letters.”

“I’ll bet it’s like, the old mayor or something. Someone important.”

“I mean, that’s what makes sense, yeah. That’s what mom and dad think, anyway. But, again, we haven’t been able to find any proof.” Tansy shrugged. “So.”

Hadji folded and unfolded his hands in his lap, thoughtful. “What would you like from us, Tansy? It’s clear that you withheld these letters from Dr. Olssen for a reason. And while I understand, I must tell you that we’re under a fair amount of her scrutiny. I’m not sure that keeping them hidden is realistic.”

“I know. It’s not really ideal — my parents don’t trust her, and neither do I. But we want answers, and I trust you guys. As long as someone is there… protecting her memory, I guess, then I think we can be okay with that.” 

Jessie closed up her to-go box and got to her feet. She brushed her hands together, took a look at the ocean peeking through the Glace Bay buildings, and nodded to herself. She took Tansy’s hands in hers. “Tansy, thank you so much . We’ll get your phone number and we’ll be in touch. I will take care of Eleanora, I promise. ”

The drive back to Birch House had a distinctly different vibe than the one into town. Hadji had gone quiet, which was nothing new to Jonny; it was how his brother processed things before he came to decisions, before he took any action.

And Jessie, of course, had completely transformed. The fire was back in her eyes, and theories were spilling from her mouth like a dam with a hole in it.

He’d done his best to temper her excitement, but didn’t have much success. Not because he didn’t love seeing her in hyper focus, but because he knew Angie would be all over it the second they walked in through the door of Birch House.

Usually he loved being right, but he hated it when he was right and it sucked.

His dad, Race, and Angie were seated around a coffee table in the living room, poring over scattered piles of paper and open file folders. When the three of them entered the house, he saw her fierce eyes sweep over them in investigation, saw them lock on Jessie, saw her jaw set in determination.

“What did you find out?” She asked quickly.

Race made a sound in the back of his throat. “Hell, Ang, maybe let them get past the threshold before you give ‘em the third degree, huh?’

“I apologize. Hello.” 

Jonny tried his best tension-melting grin. “Hey, Ang.”

Her eyes softened imperceptibly as she looked at Jonny, but she recovered quickly. “Please, what did you learn?”

Jessie did no such softening. “We’ve got groceries to put away. If you want to learn more you can follow us.” She swept past the living room doorway and stalked down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Jonny shrugged and followed her. When they reached the kitchen, he took note of Jessie’s mood. As soon as the sunny light of the room hit her, her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a long, quiet sigh. Hadji was right behind them.

“It does feel better in here, Jessie. I see what you mean,” he said as he made his way toward the refrigerator.

Race, Benton, and Doctor Olssen filed into the kitchen after them, with Angelica closing in quickly on Jessie.

“Eleanora was betrayed. Probably by someone important, which is why we can’t really find anything about her.” Jessie loaded a gallon of milk in the refrigerator and shut the door. Jonny tried to suppress a chuckle; she was taking her time. 

Dr. Olssen crossed her arms in irritation.

Jessie pulled the folded copies from her back pocket and tossed them onto the table. “She kept the best and the worst of her lover’s letters. It’ll be tedious, but I’m sure we can find a handwriting match if we go back to the museum and start looking through documents with that as a research filter.”

Olssen snatched the papers up and devoured the words on them. Wordlessly, the “kids” put groceries away while she read.

When she was finished, her ice blue eyes were lit anew. “I don’t believe the identity of this man is important. We have what we need.”

Jonny’s heart dropped into his stomach — this was about to go even worse than he expected.

“Excuse me?” Jessie’s voice was shrill.

“This is exactly the kind of emotional information we need to spike the energy again… but this time we’ll have some power over her. She won’t be prepared for this.”

Jonny winced. He was ready for Jessie’s indignant rage, but he wasn’t ready for the look of disgust on her face. He’d been holding out hope that there was something left of Angelica Olssen, of the woman who had let him sit on her knee when he was tiny enough to fit, who sent him birthday cards, whose blonde hair reminded him of his mother.

But Jessie’s face was the last nail in the coffin. What a horrific thing to say. She opened her mouth, but Hadji’s quiet anger cut through the uncomfortable silence before any words could come out.

“Dr. Olssen, frankly, I take offense at that perspective. We have promised Eleanora’s descendant to treat her spirit with care and respect, and we believe that unearthing the identity of the man who betrayed her is essential to honoring that promise.”

Benton’s face registered a look of surprise. “Her descendant?”

Jonny nodded. “Yeah, she talked to us at the museum. And she trusted us with these letters, Ang. We gotta do right by her.”

Dr. Olssen’s mouth set in a grim line. “You are more than welcome to do whatever research you like, of course. But we will proceed with experiments tomorrow night.” Her eyes swept over Jessie. “Jessie still looks tired, and I would like her to be as alert and strong as possible before we make contact with Eleanora again.”

Race grunted indignantly. “Ang, I hope I don’t need to remind you that Jessie is more than just a variable in your science project.”

“Dad, I’m—”

Angie’s eyes darkened. Jonny hoped it was a brief moment of remorse, of remembering herself, but he couldn’t be sure anymore.

“Of course. Her safety is of top concern,” she said. Unconvincingly. 

Race set his jaw. Jonny could see that he was grinding his teeth. 

Jonny made deliberate eye contact with his dad, who gave him a quick nod back. 

“Thank you for getting groceries, kids,” Benton said, with a forced smile. “You’re really earning your allowance this week.”

Jonny rolled his eyes, but smiled gratefully at his dad as he watched him lead Race and Angie out of the kitchen. Hadji placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going with them to see what they were talking about before we arrived. My trust in Dr. Olssen is quickly waning.” He paused, then added, “I’m sorry, my friend. I know you have a fondness for her.”

Jonny reached up and put his hand on top of his brother’s. “Thanks, Hadj.”

He watched quietly as Hadji walked down the hallway, then shook his head briefly, trying to clear it. There was a lot going on, and he could feel the overwhelm creeping in. He needed to go for a jog or something. Or…

He turned around to see Jessie putting the last of the groceries in the refrigerator, and took a moment to drink in the sight of her. He used to have her body memorized; how could he not? He’d seen her almost every day of his teens and early 20s. But this Jessie was different. Older, a little softer. He swallowed a sigh as he remembered the way her ass had looked in front of him in the shower, how he’d wanted to lock his hands on her hips and— 

“Uh, you okay, Jonny?”

He shook his head again. “Yeah, yeah. Yep, totally fine.” He desperately tried to steer his brain in another direction. “What about you? That went… worse than I expected it to.”

Jessie sat down on one of the stools around the kitchen island, slowly releasing a long, tired exhale. “Yeah. I don’t know why I thought she’d be more interested in finding out who this guy was, but she really couldn’t care less. I was so excited earlier.”

His fingertips itching to touch her again, he took the few steps needed to close the distance between them, and stood behind her. She stiffened a little in surprise, but when he reached an arm tenderly around her, pulling her back to rest on his chest, she seemed to melt into him. 

Until she squirmed in discomfort. “Ow! What’s that?”

“Hmm? What?”

“Something’s poking me directly in my shoulder blade.” She leaned forward and turned around, opening up his jacket. She pulled the box of macarons out of his inner pocket and smacked him playfully on his shoulder.

“What the hell? Were you hiding these?”

Indignant panic rose in his chest. “No! No, I got them for you!”

She laughed. “Like hell, you did, Jonny! I remember your candy stash back in the day.” She nudged her shoulder into his chest. “Sneaky, selfish man.”

He groaned; this was too much. “Jessie. I got them specifically for you. I know you like macarons, and I know you especially like miniature things.”

“What! Miniature things? When have I ever—”

Jonny reached down, gripped the base of the stool and lifted it — flabbergasted woman included — turning her to face him. She squeaked in surprise. He leaned his face into hers. 

“If there’s a choice between a giant cupcake and mini cupcakes, you choose the little ones, every time, which seems absolutely insane to me. You buy those little tubes of mini M&Ms instead of a bag of regular ones. You told me once that your favorite thing about gelato was the ‘little baby spoon.’”

She blushed.

“Maybe I went a little overboard earlier. Opening your door, calling you sweetheart yesterday.” He took a step back, ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Jessie, I don’t know what I’m doing. And maybe I’ve lost a few years of study, but I know you. And I knew you’d like those little fucking cookies, so I bought them for you. I wasn’t keeping them for myself, I promise. ”

She was staring at him with her mouth open again. And he was breathing heavily, slowly, trying to bring his pulse down.

Without breaking eye contact, she opened up the box of cookies and pulled one out. It was green. Probably pistachio, he thought. She popped it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, silently daring him to look away.

“Mmmm.” She set the box behind her on the island and brushed her hands together, letting a few crumbs fall to the floor. A small, mischievous smile started to form on her lips. “You just got really upset right then.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say, because she was up now, stepping toward him. Licking a tiny green spot of frosting off her bottom lip. He swallowed.

Then she slid her arms inside his jacket, hugged him around his waist, and laid her head on his chest.

“Thanks, Jonny. That was really sweet of you.”

He felt his body relax into her, and he relished the way her warmth felt against him, how it seemed to spread all the way to his fingertips. He pressed his lips to her hair briefly before resting his chin on top of her head.

“Am I stupid?” Her voice was small, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“What?”
“I just want this. I know all the reasons I shouldn’t, but this feels so good… I’m having a hard time caring. Does that make me stupid?”

“I…” He took a few breaths, took in her scent, tried to memorize the feel of her in his arms. The sudden reminder of how lucky he was — lucky that she would even look him in the eyes, let alone let him hold her like this — had sucked the air out of his lungs. “I don’t think my opinion is very objective, Jess.”

She chuckled and nuzzled into him for a few more seconds before looking up into his eyes. To his distinct relief, she was smiling.

Jonny sent a tentative smile back to her. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you deserve to be happy, and I think I can make you happy… and I’m gonna do whatever I can to earn back your trust. I hope you believe me.”

He pulled Jessie back into him, wrapping her up in his arms, closing his jacket around them.

Through the haze of her warmth, her scent, the feel of her body against his, Jonny briefly wondered when the room had gotten so cold.

Someone must have left a window open, he thought.

Chapter Text

The caretaker of Monzie castle looked confused, skeptical, and just a little panicked. He wrung his hands together briskly, rhythmically, and looked across the strangely modern room to make eye contact with his wife. 

“Mr. Laird? I was asking about the stone?”

“The stone?”

“Yes, Kate McNiven’s stone,” said Lawrence patiently, almost melodically. “Where she allegedly passed away?”

Mr. Laird’s tense face relaxed abruptly at this elaboration, and Lawr filed that away as something to pay attention to.

“Ah, well, yes, of course.” The caretaker scratched the back of his neck and finally let a friendly smile break out across his face. “Of course, I can take you all out to see the stone! Would you like a cup of tea first?”

Lawr smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Laird, but no thank you. We’ve been very curious about the stone, and we’re eager to get a look.”

Mrs. Laird set her teacup down on the end table next to her and rose from her chair. “Well, let’s get on with it,” she said. “It’s supposed to rain again this evening and we don’t want to get caught in it.” She raised an eyebrow at Lawrence. “I hope you’ve made lodging arrangements elsewhere. We weren’t expecting guests and don’t have the rooms ready.”

“Yes, of course. We’re simply here for the stone.”

She let out a low chuckle. “It’s just a hunk of stone. Not sure what the big deal is all the sudden.”

Mr. Laird swallowed thickly, and did his best to match his wife’s casual laugh.

Lawrence kept his smile warm and friendly, and made another mental note. Something else to pay attention to.

***

It had taken her a long time to fall asleep, but once her brain finally shut off, Jessie slept like the dead. No dreams, no 3:00 am wakeup; just that deeply restful — yet slightly unsettling — feeling of closing her eyes and immediately opening them to a new day. She stretched her arms above her head and her toes toward the foot of her bed in an effort to delay having to get out of it. 

She was nervous about the night ahead. They would be turning on Olssen’s machine again, and Jessie was going to try her best to connect with Eleanora in a way that didn’t relinquish her autonomy up to the ghost. She wanted to apologize to Eleanora — for what her lover had done to her so many years ago, for what Dr. Olssen had been doing to her for months. 

Everyone deserves to have some semblance of control over their life… even if that life is technically over. 

Jessie let out a long exhale and shook her head. Coffee before supernatural ethics philosophy, she thought.

And she definitely smelled coffee, which is finally what dragged her out of bed. She could hear Hadji’s muffled voice in the kitchen below, and wondered when everyone had woken up. Her watch told her it was 9:00 am; practically unheard of for her… but she couldn’t deny that she felt rested. She’d needed all that sleep.

She tiptoed into the shared bathroom to brush her teeth, and smiled in surprise at her reflection in the mirror. Her braid was barely messed up — had she tossed and turned at all last night? It sure didn’t look like it. 

She ran the water, tapped her toothbrush on the side of the sink, and set it back in its holder. It took a few moments for the shallow, panicked breathing to finally reach her ears. Punctuated with a small whimper here and there, it sounded almost desperate.

She sniffed the air — no turpentine scent — and noted the temperature of the room. Normal. So probably not a ghost.

Another whimper. 

A whisper of, “Jesus, no. Stop it.”

A few quick steps was all it took for her to be by Jonny’s bed, for her to rest a hand on his heaving chest. He had tossed the blankets off of himself, and his shaggy hair was glued to his forehead with sweat. 

He abruptly reached up to grip her wrist, his eyes squeezed tight, whimpers escaping his throat in jagged spurts. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me.” His fingertips dug deeply into her skin, and the violence of it wrenched a whimper of her own from Jessie’s chest.

“Jonny! Jonny it’s me.” She used her free hand to pry at his fingers, but they simply clenched harder.

“ Jonny, ” she hissed through her teeth. Though the skin on her wrist was screaming, she reached up to his cheek and did her best to touch it softly, to brush a finger over his lips with careful gentleness. “Wake up , Jonny. You’re hurting me.”

That did it. His eyes flashed open in confusion, glassy and unfocused. “Is she…? Are you— oh my god.” 

His hand recoiled from her wrist as though she were on fire, and she let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Her skin was angry and red, and she wouldn’t be surprised if a bruise materialized later.

“Jessie. Jessie, god I’m so sorry!” He sat himself up in a flash, and gingerly reached out to cradle her wrist in his hands. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly. “I’m fine, really. What was that?”

He shook his head, his eyes still focused on the mark he’d made on her. “A… bad dream. A really bad one.” 

Since it didn’t look like Jonny was letting go of her anytime soon, Jessie scooted closer to him and brought her legs up onto the bed so she was sitting cross-legged next to him, facing him. “Do you get these a lot? Nightmares?”

“No. Never. Well, not until recently, I guess.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over her tender skin. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Her wrist still stung, but the soft friction of his lips sent electricity up her spine. She shook her head, tried to bring herself back to the moment. “You… wanna tell me about it?”

He looked up at her through tousled, damp bangs. She could see him weighing the idea — to tell her or not to tell her — and an uneasiness settled in her gut. Why wouldn’t he tell her? What imaginary scenario, drummed up by his sleeping brain, could possibly be so bad he didn’t trust it with her?

“I…” he licked his lips. “Someone was hurting you. It was awful.” He looked back down at her wrist. “And then I woke up, and I was hurting you.” He brought his hand to his forehead, touched the space between his eyebrows, as though he were checking something. He brought his hand down quickly, but she noticed it, and filed it away for later. 

Jonny pushed himself up into a sitting position, crossing his legs and turning toward her so their knees were touching. 

Something clicked in his mood; she watched the shift happen. He let a smile creep lazily over his face. She felt her cheeks grow warm. 

“I can do this now, right?”

“Do what?”

He lifted both hands, sliding his fingers along the sides of her throat and beneath her hair, letting his thumbs rest on her jawline. He leaned in and touched his lips gently to hers.

“That.”

She nodded her head in a quick, tiny motion. “Mmhmm.”

He tilted her face, just a bit, and pressed his lips to her temple. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth. Don’t move.”

More quiet nodding.

Jessie felt her weight shift as he got up off the bed and headed into the bathroom. She pressed her hands to her face — she felt like she’d just run a mile. What does he think we’re going to do? She thought frantically. Make out like a couple of teenagers while our parents are downstairs?

She wondered how long it took him to brush his teeth. Two minutes? That seemed like forever, but that was the rule, wasn’t it? She was pretty sure her dentist had told her two minutes.

She could feel her brain spinning out, and she couldn’t figure out why. They’d practically ripped each other’s clothes off in the museum — why was now such a big deal? 

She knew the answer, though, if she really stopped to think about it. The museum was a rush, the museum had happened quickly, and on impulse. This was different. When he’d asked her if he could kiss her, he’d been setting a baseline, trying to find some kind of label for whatever was happening here.

Were they something? Could he casually kiss her whenever he wanted? Could she casually kiss him whenever she wanted? Could she drag her fingers along his abdominal muscles whenever they itched to touch his skin? 

She swallowed. Two minutes. That was the rule. In a minute and a half, he’d be back and he’d want to kiss her. And she would let him, because she very desperately wanted him to kiss her. 

An almost cartoonish gargling sound interrupted her thoughts. He definitely had not brushed his teeth for two minutes before hitting the listerine.

For once, she was actually glad he wasn’t a rule follower. She couldn’t wait to find out what he had planned for her. 

The sink water ran briefly, and she took a deep, calming breath before he came back into the room, grinning at her from the doorway.

“Prepare yourself.”

She laughed. “Why?”

“I’m going to tackle you.”

“Oh god.”

He took a few running steps to fake her out, but his grin softened into something a little more dreamy as he got closer to her. He leaned down over her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her into him as he eased himself down onto the bed, sliding her body under him.

Oh, holy shit, she thought, and for a moment she let her brain scramble for a few reasons to stop him. None of them really seemed all that important, however, and she finally gave in, savoring his weight on top of her, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her collarbone, of the growing hardness against her—

“Oh, my!” 

The bedroom door had unceremoniously crashed open to reveal Hadji, mouth agape, holding three mugs of steaming coffee.

Jonny’s mouth was still on her throat, but it had frozen in place. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt him sigh against her. He pushed himself off of her and begrudgingly got to his feet.

“I— I am sorry, my friends!” Hadji spluttered. “It was getting late, and I thought you might want…” He rushed to a dresser and set two of the mugs down, preparing to make his escape. “Please, go back to—”

Jonny chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s fine, Hadj. Really. The moment is… well, I think it’s done now. Anyway, this is your bedroom, too.”

“Of course, but I just… I… well,” He exhaled, and let his free hand fall to his side. “This is not something I want to interrupt!”

Jessie’s cheeks felt like they were going to melt right off her face. “Hadji, it’s our fault, we shouldn’t have—”

“No, you don’t understand, my friend. I’ve waited years for this. I can’t believe I’m the one to ruin it!”

As she took in Hadji’s genuine distress, her embarrassment began to fizzle out. He had truly been worried about them, had been standing between them for the past three years, hoping they’d figure their shit out and go back to being friends. Or something resembling friends.

“Trust me, Hadji,” she said as she stood up. “You didn’t ruin anything. Okay?”

Hadji’s hands hugged his coffee mug, and a hopeful smile played on his lips. “Really? Are you two — are you, ah, well. Are you?”

Jonny grabbed the two mugs off the dresser and handed one to Jessie. “Listen, Hadj, I don’t know what we are, but we’re not mad at each other anymore, okay? And if you think a couple of interruptions is going to stop me from getting my hands on her, then you don’t know me very well.”

Jessie choked on her coffee. “Jesus, Jonny.”

Jonny simply shrugged and looked into his mug with a frown. “What the hell is this, Hadj? It’s black as night. You trying to kill me?”

It was Hadji’s turn to shrug. “I am sorry, my friend. Angelica was being very… intense. I am not ashamed to admit that I ran away.”

Jessie gave a theatrical shudder. “I don’t blame you, Hadji.”

Jonny continued to frown. “I do blame you. I get it — Angie can be scary.” He slipped his feet into a pair of shoes by the door and stepped out into the hallway. “But not as scary as black coffee.”

***

The stone was about four feet tall, and sporadically coated in dark green and yellow moss. It stood, lonely, in a rolling expanse of green fields.

There were no other stones around it, and the hills behind it were shrouded in mist.

Tina’s voice wavered. “What a lonely place to die.”

Lawr couldn’t help but agree. He also couldn’t figure out what in the hell he was supposed to glean from this ancient rock, no matter how sad its story was.

“Well, I can assure you, Kate wasn’t alone,” said Mrs. Laird with her hands on her hips. “Awfully hard to burn yourself at the stake.”

Mr. Laird made a strangled sound in his throat, and shot a look of daggers at his wife. “Have some respect, Maggie. For God’s sake.”

Mrs. Laird crossed her arms and grunted.

Lawr cleared his throat. “I’ve done my reading, and there seem to be a lot of different stories about Kate. Some people say she was burned at the stake, some people say she was stuffed in a barrel and pushed off a cliff, and then burned for good measure.”

“Shit,” muttered Jenna. “I hadn’t read that one.”

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Laird. “My mum always told me she got burned at the stake. Depends on who you talk to.”

“What about the cave?” Asked Lawr.

Mr. Laird’s eyes bulged. “Ah, and what cave might that be?”

“I read that, after she was accused, Kate hid in a cave for weeks before they eventually found and killed her. Is that true, Mr. Laird?” He asked the question to the caretaker, but fixed his eyes on the man’s wife. Maggie Laird had a very perturbed look on her face, but wasn’t saying anything.

“Ah, see, now, that’s just a rumor.”

“Isn’t it all rumor, really?” Lawr’s bullshit radar was pinging off the charts.

“Well now, yes, of course it is. I’d rather we call it legend, personally.”

“Alright, legend, then. What do you know about this cave? Can we visit it?”

“Ah,” Mr. Laird rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “See, ah, no one really knows where that cave might be. If it’s even real at all.”

Maggie let out a noise that sounded distinctly like scoffing.

Lawrence, Jenna, Tina, and Duke had all briefly met out at their car before their journey to the stone, and they’d had a few moments to assess the situation and hatch a plan. It had been clear to Lawrence that Mr. Laird took great pride in his duties as caretaker, while Mrs. Laird seemed to have drastically different feelings. And not only that, but he very much did not believe that there were guests booked in the castle that night.

And now, out at the stone, Lawrence was even more convinced than he was earlier that both Lairds were lying through their teeth. One trying much harder than the other.

Before Lawrence could try to pry more information out of Mr. Laird, Tina’s soft voice rose up from behind him.

“May I… touch it?” She asked.

Mr. Laird nodded slowly and seriously. “So long as you’ve got the right mind about it, you can.”

This had been part of their plan, to show as much respect as possible in the hopes that the caretakers would warm up to them, but Tina seemed a little more solemn than Lawr had expected. Her steps toward the stone were slow and careful, and she walked around it in a circle, clockwise, a few times before placing a hand on her heart and the other on the stone. He sucked in a breath when he realized there were tears streaking down her face. Her lips moved in a silent murmur, and she patted the stone gently before walking around it again, but counter-clockwise, before rejoining their group.

“Tina,” he started, but Mr. Laird cut him off.

“Dear, how did you know? The circles?”

Tina blushed, and wiped tears from her cheeks. “I did some research on the way here. I’m… I’m afraid of ghosts, sir. I wanted to make sure we didn’t make her angry.”

“You wanted to show her respect.”

“I did, yes.”

The old man stared into her eyes for a few moments, then nodded.

“Maggie?”

Maggie sighed in resignation. It was clear she already knew what he was about to say. But still, she asked, “Yes, Patrick?”

“We’ve had a cancellation. We’ll give these folks the rooms upstairs, and we’ll open a bottle of your brother’s best whisky to boot.”

***

They got their coffee, alright, but ended up having to pour it into travel mugs so that they could trek out to the cemetery shortly after they made it downstairs. Jessie hugged her hands to the green plastic of her mug, wishing she’d brought a pair of gloves.

The cemetery wasn’t too far away from Birch House — it was about a ten minute walk through the woods that stood ominously behind the old mansion. Angelica led the way, followed by Benton, her dad, Hadji, and Jonny trailing Jessie. She could feel her pulse increasing as they made their way through the trees, but she wasn’t sure what the cause was. Was it the excitement of finding something out here about Eleanora? Or was it the way Jonny had leaned into her in the kitchen, in full view of everyone there?

She let out a shuddering, visible breath, and shook her head. Who was she kidding? It was probably both.

Jonny followed close behind her, chirping out a comment here and there about the birds, the trees, the temperature… she lost track after a while. There was too much buzzing around in her head.

Once the cemetery came into view, however, everything stilled. It was located smack-dab in the middle of the woods, cleared out so many years ago, and was very clearly well-maintained, even now. The air felt different in the clearing than it did just a few steps before, and Jessie was surprised to realize that she wasn’t feeling reverent; she was angry.

She stepped out in front of everyone to examine the gravestones. These were all clearly good, upstanding Christians who’d toed the line, who were worthy of the burials they’d desired. Someone kept the grass between them short, kept the moss and mildew at bay from the stones.

She looked out past the stones and into the trees. Eleanora was out there, and no one was taking care of the land that held her bones. They let nature do what it does best, and they let her rot into obscurity without anyone to remember her name.

Well, obviously, not anyone. Jessie swallowed down her rage and did her best to tap into her actual brain for a moment. She’d bet a hundred bucks that the man who betrayed Eleanora was buried there somewhere, if his social status was such a precious thing to protect. She noted the surnames. Campbell, Donovan, Goodwin, Leblanc.

That one pinged something in the back of her mind; hadn’t she seen that name plastered all over the city of Glace Bay? And the name on the placard by the docks?

She shook her head, and finally let her awareness come up for air. Dr. Olssen was absentmindedly walking through the headstones, and she didn’t appear to be terribly interested in what she was looking at. Benton and her dad were murmuring together quietly by one stone — the tiny cherub atop it made her think it was a grave for a child. Hadji was staring out into the trees.

Jonny was staring at her.

“What?” She asked.

He let a tiny smile inch onto his face. “Nothing. Just watching you.”

She laughed a short, bark of a laugh. “That’s creepy.”

He took a few steps closer to her, clearly unbothered by the idea of being discovered as… what were they? Lovers? People who kiss sometimes?

“It’s not creepy. I’m curious. What are you thinking?”

“Honestly? I’m not terribly interested in this cemetery. These are the people who got what they wanted. The people who were worthy of the burial they asked for.”

Jonny nodded, then called out to Angelica. “Angie! This is all fine and all, but where’s Eleanora?”

A look flitted across the woman’s face — annoyance? Jessie wasn’t sure.

“Yes, of course.” Angelica gestured to the north. “This way.”

She wasn’t sure it was possible for her heart to pound harder, but knowing where they were headed had it threatening to burst out of her chest. The party made their way out of the cleanly-kept circle and into the trees. Angelica stopped walking far sooner than Jessie had expected her to, and gestured to a gnarled rock at the foot of a tree.

She stared at it silently. The drying leaves clinging to the branches around her crackled together in the cold air, and the fact that she could hear them so clearly helped her realize that everyone else was silent, too.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting; the grave was centuries old. Of course there wasn’t a mound of earth in front of it. Of course there was no sign of her; there hadn’t been sign of her for years.

The anger was bubbling up into her chest slowly, like a pot of water that had just started to simmer.

Jessie would just bet there had barely been any sign of her even then. Just a patch of disturbed earth and a rock someone had found in the woods.’

A tear slid down her cheek, quickly chilled by the air around her. “I don’t even know why they put a rock here in the first place. It’s not like anyone wanted to remember her.” She stepped toward it and kneeled down, resting her hand gently on the makeshift tombstone. She was surprised by the fact that she felt nothing at all.

She quietly chided herself. What had she been expecting? A feeling? Voices? Electricity?

She didn’t know. But she’d expected something. Instead, she got what she should have known would be the case:

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a woman who didn’t fit the mold, and faded into obscurity.

No. She was exiled into obscurity.

Jessie shook her head, trying to push her anger down back into something manageable. She stood up, and turned to Angelica. “And there aren’t ever any hauntings out here? They’re all in Birch House?”

“That is correct. I’ve discussed this with some other investigators, and they tell me it’s not uncommon. They believe the spirits have a certain amount of free will, and can choose to haunt wherever and whatever they like.”

“And Eleanora chose Birch House.”

“It seems that way, yes.”

Dr. Quest cleared his throat. “I hear your skepticism, Jessie, but I’ve seen it before. Sometimes a person’s spirit will choose a place they felt a connection to, or sometimes they’re simply tired of being out in the cold. I imagine a fireplace is comforting, whether or not you can feel its heat.”

Her dad zipped his coat all the way up to his chin. “Hell, I can’t really blame her. It’s spooky as hell out here, and I’m not easily spooked.”

She didn’t say anything, but Jessie disagreed. It didn’t feel spooky. It felt old and empty and sad. She hated that she could feel another tear sliding down her cheek.

“Hmm.”

It was the first sound she’d heard from Hadji since they’d entered the cemetery. He was staring into the trees again, across the gravestones to the woods on the other side of them. “I feel something out there,” he murmured.

Dr. Olssen clucked her tongue. “The wildlife here is bountiful.”

Hadji nodded quietly. “I’m sure that’s true.”

Jessie clapped her hands together lightly, like a punctuation mark. “I’m ready to go back,” she said. “I’m not really sure what there is to learn out here, and I’d like to spend a little more time with Eleanora’s letters before we go back down into the basement tonight.”

Angelica’s eyes took on a brightness Jessie didn’t like.

“Yes, I think that is a good idea. We should all rest up and prepare for this evening. I am excited to see how the new information will affect the experiment.”

***

Lawrence watched with a small smile as Tina gave Duke’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze. Jenna gave him a sneaky nudge with her elbow, and their pilot nodded at her with a grim look of determination.

The group was seated around the fireplace in the Monzie Castle poolroom. It felt more modern than some of the other rooms, with its floral upholstered chairs and sofa, but Lawrence still felt like he’d gone back in time.

Duke’s mission was one he was more than willing to take on, but it was still a mission that would require some brainpower, despite the nature of it.

Patrick and Margaret had allowed them to stay the night in the bed-and-breakfast portion of the castle — it was clear to everyone that there was never any reservation to begin with. It also continued to be clear that the couple was hiding something, and Lawrence had a feeling that what they were hiding was exactly what he was looking for. And finding out what it was was going to require a plan.

And that plan meant that Duke was about to get rip-roaring drunk. And, if he played it right, Patrick Laird was, too.

Margaret was the only wild card. Lawrence couldn’t tell if she was sick of them, sick of her husband, or just sick of everyone. She would take some more sober finessing.

The caretaker gave them all a kind smile as he entered the room with a serving tray. On it was perched a set of snifters and an unlabeled bottle of amber liquid — Duke’s eyes widened. He was going to feel terrible in the morning, but he was clearly going to have fun getting there.

Patrick filled the glasses and gingerly handed the first one to Tina, who thanked him quietly.

“So, Mr. Laird,” Duke started.

“Patrick, please.”

“Patrick. This is your brother’s whisky?”

“No, it’s Margaret’s brother. He’s got a distillery up in ___, and I’d swear on my mother that it’s the best Scotch whisky you’ll find.”

Margaret stretched her feet in front of the fire and scoffed. “You boys and your whisky. I’d rather have a pina colada any day of the week.”

Lawrence held up his snifter in salute to Margaret, who reluctantly held hers up, too. “You and me, both, Margaret. You and me, both.” He lowered it and took a sip, trying not to shudder. He wasn’t going to be rude, but whisky was never his first choice.

“Hell, Patrick,” Duke set his empty snifter on the coffee table in front of him. “You weren’t kidding, that was incredible.”

Patrick looked down at the empty glass with a giddy look of pride and awe. “You know your Scotch, Mr. Wuornos!”

Duke flashed him his best charming grin. “Call me Duke, please, Patrick. And if you don’t mind, I’d love another.”

As they had hoped, Patrick did a fine job of keeping up with Duke’s pace, and by 9:00 pm, both men were near-sloshed. Everyone else had a fair pink tinge to their cheeks — even Margaret — and the mood felt free and comfortable. Duke flashed Lawrence a meaningful look, and Jenna intercepted it smoothly.

“Margaret,” she said casually. “You had mentioned earlier that other people had been here recently to look at the stone? Is it a popular tourist spot?”

The woman coughed, briefly choking on her sip of whisky. “Ah, well,” she gave Patrick a sidelong glance. “Ah, Pat?”

Patrick leaned over and gave his wife a playful chuck on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Meggie. I can tell these folks are the good kind. They’re not going to turn us in to the historical societies.”

A pang of guilt hit Lawrence in the chest. They probably weren’t going to turn them in to the historical societies. It depended on what they were about to tell them.

Maggie’s eyes lit up like she’d been given permission to do something she’d been waiting years to do. “We had a guest a few months ago. Scary woman.” She shuddered.

Patrick tried to burp quietly and politely, but wasn’t very successful. “Scary and rich , Meggie.”

“Yes, well, that’s the rub, isn’t it?”

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, it is. It is indeed. ”

“Tall, blonde. Scandinavian to be sure. She came asking questions about old Kate that knocked us off our seats.”

Jenna, Lawrence, and Tina all leaned forward in anticipation. Duke was reading a book about the Loch Ness monster, but the book was upside down and his eyes were closing slowly.

“What do you mean? What questions?” Asked Tina.

Maggie leaned in, too. “She was asking about the second stone. ”

Jenna gasped dramatically. Lawrence must have miscounted how many glasses of whisky she’d had. “There are two stones?” She placed her hand on her chest. “What was the first stone? I forgot.”

“Well, most people think of the stone you folks saw,” said Margaret. “And people who know better think of the tiny blue jewel that Kate spat out on the day of her death. The one that brought good luck to the Laird of Inchbrakie, so long as it stayed on the property.”

Jenna sucked in a breath. She whispered, “Do you have it? Can we see it?”

Margaret shook her head gravely. “They say it got taken off the land — given to a lover, or sold, or stolen — and slowly the property was sold and faded away, until it was taken over far later. But it no longer belonged to the Inchbrakies, that’s for sure.”

Tina sighed. “That’s sad,” she murmured.

Lawrence took a small sip. He’d been nursing the same drink for the past two hours, and, thankfully, no one had given him any hell over it. “So. The first stone was a gift for the old laird — I’m assuming he’d been a friend to Kate.”

Patrick nodded solemnly.

“And you’re saying there was a second stone? Not the stone that marked her death, but one that has managed to slip from both the legends and the historical records?”

“Hmm, yes,” said Patrick. “She spat two stones from her mouth that day — no one knows if she’d kept ‘em in there the whole time or if she summoned ‘em from hell, but she did. She spat out a blue moonstone sapphire for Mr. Inchbrakie, a stone of blessing. And the other one, blood red and flecked with spots as green as poison, she spat at the feet of her accusers, and dared them to leave it there.” He shuddered, and attempted to pour himself another drink, the bottle clattering against the snifter as he fumbled with it. Tina reached over and gently took the bottle from him, pouring just a finger of the liquid. She patted his hand, and took the capped bottle to the table at the back of the room, as far away from everyone as possible. Lawrence sent her an approving smile. Everyone had had plenty of booze.

“What do you mean, ‘dared them to leave it there?’” Jenna asked.

Margaret took over. “Well, now, you see, at first look, both stones seemed to be a blessing. The moonstone promised humble prosperity, but the jasper promised to grant a person’s wildest dreams. Riches, fame, a harem of beauties, you name it. At least, that’s what Kate told ‘em, because she knew they wouldn’t be able to resist it. Oh they’d clamor on and on about relics from hell, but anyone hasty enough to burn a woman over rumors was never far from greed.” She paused briefly and looked up at Tina. “Dear, do you mind bringing over the thermos on that table? I see you putting the whisky away and I think you’ve got the right idea. Time for a little tea for all of us, I think.”

Tina smiled and nodded, and Margaret smiled, too, before switching back to storyteller mode. “They say the stone lay out in the fields for almost a week before it disappeared, and it wasn’t long before ol’ Kate’s accuser — a doctor from Crieff — found himself a fine, young, pretty wife, with a family as rich as can be. They had beautiful children, and more money than you can shake a stick at.”

Patrick shook his head. “He had happiness just long enough for it to really, truly hurt when he lost it.”

A sour taste was creeping into Lawrence’s mouth. He was sober enough to start doing the math. “I’m guessing,” he said, “that things went pear shaped.”

Margaret’s mouth set into a grim line. “Indeed. The doc went on a hunting trip with his mates. A weeklong vacation, and he came home to find his whole family murdered by bandits. Babes and all. After that, he went a little mad, and gambled his wife’s fortune down to nothing. Died in a gutter.” She sipped the tea Tina had handed her, thoughtfully. “No one knows how the Greedstone made it back to the castle. That’s the thing, you see, is it always comes back. Some black soul is fool enough to think the fortune is worth it, or they believe in the blessing but not the curse, and they lose it all, and the stone shows up in the mail, or some guest leaves it in the bathroom, or sometimes the old caretakers simply found it on the front stoop when they opened the door in the morning.”

Patrick patted his wife’s hand. “We’re no fools. We’ve left it in its same spot for as long as we’ve been in charge here, and no one has ever come asking for it. Until that woman.”

“Aye,” said Margaret. She looked at her husband, who nodded encouragingly. “And I’m only a little ashamed to say that we sent it off with her. She tried to pay us, but we know better. That money would have come straight from hell.” She cupped her hands tightly around her cup, an attempt at comfort.

Patrick did the same. “She had a look in her eyes. One that told me she’d find a way to take it whether we let her or not.” He took a breath. “And to be honest, I was relieved to get it out of the castle. It might just be superstition, but I’d swear on her brother’s whisky that I felt lighter the moment that stone went out the door.”

A long whistle escaped Jenna’s lips. “Whoahhhhh,” she breathed. 

A lump had formed in Lawrence’s throat, a thick ball of dread that no amount of tea could wash away. His eyes met Tina’s, and he could tell she felt the same way.

He believed, just a little bit, in the elves his Amma in Iceland talked about in her stories. He was married to Benton Quest, for crying out loud. An enchanted stone that both granted you and punished you for your wildest dreams wasn’t entirely outside his realms of possibility.

“Thank you, Patrick and Margaret, truly, for your hospitality. And your honesty,” he added, and finished the rest of his tea in a quick gulp before standing up. “If you’ll forgive me, I have a phone call to make.”

***

Jessie knew she wasn’t going to get any kind of official confirmation that their man was a Leblanc — not without more research that would have to wait until tomorrow anyway. Even then, it was likely they wouldn’t get their answers.

So, she’d have to take action on a hunch.

Evidence of the Leblanc family could be seen wherever she’d looked since they’d set foot in Nova Scotia. Streets, placards, park benches. It was clearly an important family — a family that had enjoyed a certain level of power for a long time.

The kind of power you’d leave a lover for, at the very least.

Jessie dug through her duffel bag quickly to unzip a tiny pouch sewed into its side. She could hear everyone in the kitchen downstairs, their voices elevated with excitement and the kind of frenetic energy she knew often came with the start of an adventure. Her fingers wrapped around a smooth disc and she felt an irrational rush of relief. She pulled out a well-worn worry stone, made of solid jade, that was a deep green, almost black color.

Jade — the human Jade — had slipped it into her hand quietly before she’d left the last time. She’d told her it was a “dream stone,” that it would help her envision a safe, happy future that she could trust and hope in. A stone to help her tap into a little magic. A stone that would also bring protection as she allowed herself to step away from reality.

Jessie dropped it into her jeans pocket and took a deep breath before heading downstairs to join the group.

She couldn’t think of a better talisman for the job, even if she was mostly convinced it was all bullshit.

***

Lawr was happy to hear Benton’s voice, but the sound of concern in it planted a tiny seed of dread at the base of his spine.

“A stone?” He could practically hear his husband’s brain working, see the crease between his eyebrows. “That’s… that is unexpected. But it also connects a few dots I haven’t been able to pull together.”

Lawr stared out his window into the Scottish night. “I know you went there ghost hunting,” he said into the phone. “But I guess I wasn’t actually expecting anything truly supernatural to come out of all this. Mystical stones feel like a… wild card.”

Benton sighed on the other end of the line, and Lawr’s heart squeezed. It was 8:00 pm in Nova Scotia, and 2:00 am in Scotland. Duke was in bed, sleeping off the whisky, and they wouldn’t be able to leave until the morning. There were probably less booze-involved ways to gain the trust of the old caretakers, but he hadn’t been able to think of another way. So Duke would sleep, and he would fly them to Glace Bay in the morning.

“Lawrence,” Benton murmured. “We’re about to head downstairs. Fly safely, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lawr nodded. “Mm. Yes, we will. Be safe, Ben. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Jonny leaned against the heavy wood of the main staircase railing, peering through the hallway into the kitchen of Birch House. He could hear Angie rustling around in the basement, preparing her equipment for the night’s experiments. Everyone else was still upstairs, getting ready for the evening. Benton had asked Angie repeatedly if he could help her, and she had refused every time, saying she needed some time alone, that she wasn’t used to having so many people around her at once.

Bullshit, obviously.

He wasn’t sure what was up, but it was something ; that was clear. His mind was racing through what felt like a million different topics, not the least of which was his nightmare from last night, the nightmare Jessie had woken him from. The nightmare that had come true, even if it was only a fraction of the same severity.

It hadn’t started as a nightmare. It had started out as one of his wildest dreams — Jessie beneath him, on top of him, her breasts in his hands, in his mouth. Her soft, just-sweaty skin sliding beneath his fingertips. Just thinking about it had him breaking out into goosebumps. It was perfect. 

Right up until everything went terribly wrong. 

Lying in bed, sweaty, panting, and deliciously spent, Jonny and Jessie were sprawled over each other, soaking up the rays of sunshine coming from the window, when he felt it. A tiny niggling in his breastplate — a seed of fear. It started small and annoying, detracting from the sweetness of the moment… but he knew it would get bigger. His brain started outlining all of the reasons it was a bad idea:

They had history.

She’d tossed her old boyfriend aside and jumped right into bed with him.

She was too good for him.

He was too good for her.

She was too impulsive.

She wasn’t impulsive enough.

He felt like he was flipping through a rolodex of reasons, and not all of them made sense. He couldn’t stop the rapid-fire thoughts, though, and as his brain reached a frantic pace, the seed of fear and doubt in his chest was growing, spreading to his toes, to the throbbing point above the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows.

What did they think they were doing? Did they really think this was a good idea? They’d do nothing but hurt each other, and if they were going to make the scales reach even, he deserved to be hurt — snapped in half, even.

But he was too scared to let that happen.

Jonny forced himself to focus again on the kitchen in front of him — he was getting lost in the lingering haze of his dream, and that was the last thing he wanted.

His thoughts had swarmed, and his fears took on a life of their own. He’d decided the only way to come out of it unscathed was to hurt her, to teach her not to find comfort in wounded things that would wound her in return. So his dream-self had pushed away from her, leapt from the bed, leaving her confused and embarrassed and naked, surrounded by sheets. He’d said awful things he didn’t mean, designed specifically to hurt her with as much sting as he could muster. And when she’d jumped up to reason with him, he’d shoved her as hard as he could. She’d tripped over a shoe, and fallen unceremoniously to the bed. Naked, sobbing so violently she could barely breathe.

And then he’d woken up, squeezing her wrist so hard her emerald eyes were sparkling with tears.

He shook his head. “What the fuck,” he muttered, and reached up to touch his forehead again. Something was weird, something wasn’t right. Like there was an itch there that he simply couldn’t scratch.

He crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto his other leg.

And what was it about the kitchen? Why were the hauntings so frequent there, and why did Jessie feel so much safer in there than anywhere else? He’d caught her reading a book in the kitchen at the counter more than once, and earlier he’d found her sleeping there, hunched over, her head resting on her folded arms.

Steps above his head on the creaking staircase jarred him from his thoughts, and replaced them with an elevated heart rate.

On top of all of this, on top of all the questions, the nightmares, the guilt, was the most annoying case of lust he’d ever managed to get his hands on.

Wanted to get his hands on. Had permission to put his hands on.

Jesus.

He took a deep breath, and prepared himself for whatever Jessie had transformed into after her shower. She probably smelled like his shampoo and conditioner. After that night in the shower, she’d commandeered his hair products, claiming her hair had never felt so soft. He didn’t disagree with her… not that he’d had a whole lot of experience touching her hair. Certainly not as much as he’d like.

The steps fell quickly on the stairs, and after a few seconds, he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder.

Why the hell not? He thought. They were the only ones around, as far as he could tell, and he was tired of thinking about it. He wanted to be absolutely lost in her. He wanted to replace last night’s mental horror show with something sweet.

Before he could think too hard and chicken out, he whirled around, sending both of his hands straight to her ribs, ready to slide them up and down, to feel her— 

Hadji’s… ribs. Not Jessie’s. Hadji’s.

His eyes met his brother’s wide, stunned gaze, and he was too surprised to move as quickly as he would have liked.

“Oh, my.”

“Hadj! I, I thought you—”

“You, my friend, have a firm grip. No wonder Jessie—”

Jonny’s hands shot straight to the air, as though he were being held at gunpoint. “Hadj!”

Hadji broke into a grin. “Jessie’s still getting dressed. I would advise you not to make the same mistake with Race.”

Instead of breaking away, Jonny dropped his forehead onto Hadji’s chest. “This is too much stress, Hadj. Will you hold me?”

Hadji laughed, heartily and happily. “Normally, I would say ‘absolutely.’ But I need a snack before we conjure up this ghost, and time is of the essence!” Hadji gave his brother a quick hug and headed toward the kitchen.

Jonny picked out a spot on the wallpaper and lightly smacked his head against it. Twice.

“You’re a mess, Quest,” he whispered.

“I would probably call you a hot mess, personally.”

He whirled around. Again. And was greeted by Jessie’s body suddenly pressed against his, her left hand sliding up his side, her right hand quickly slipping behind his neck to pull him closer. She planted a fast, firm kiss on his lips, letting her tongue dart quickly in, efficiently dragging her teeth over his bottom lip as she pulled away. 

The air rushed out of his chest, and before he could say anything or pull her back to him, she was off to the kitchen. He leaned back against the wall for a moment, watching her excited strides down the hallway. He closed his eyes, took a few deep, calming breaths.

Once his heart rate settled down, Jonny’s eyes opened to an unsettling sight: Race Bannon staring quietly at him, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.

“You doing alright there, kiddo?”

Jonny swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Hey, Race.”

“Whatcha thinking about over there? Care to share with the class?”

An uncomfortable smile broke out on Jonny’s face. “Ah, baseball. Just thinking about baseball.”

Race chuckled and broke the stare. He bumped Jonny on the shoulder with a gentle fist and shoved him into movement, letting him go down the hallway ahead of him. “That’s what I thought. Good ole baseball. Does the trick every time.”

“Christ, Race. You’re gonna kill me with a heart attack before I ever make it down into that basement.”

The kitchen was, as usual, bright and airy. Again, Jonny could understand wanting to be in here, but he couldn’t really understand wanting to haunt in here. Ah, well, he thought. What do I know?

Race, Hadji, and Jessie were crowded around the kitchen island, chatting quietly and hurriedly, leafing through the copies Jessie had made of Eleonora’s and her mystery lover’s letters. Jonny was just about to text his dad when Benton walked into the room, his forehead wrinkled in what he had come to know as worry.

“Any word from Angelica? Is she still downstairs?”

“Hey, Dad,” Jonny said. “No, she’s still down there.” He took a couple steps toward his dad, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you talk to Lawr? Everything okay?”

Benton’s lips pressed thin before he answered. “I… don’t want to be alarmist, but I’m not so sure.” He looked down the hallway for any sign of Angelica, then leaned in close to his son. “They’re on their way here. They’ve gotten some information that makes me think this is more… unpredictable than we realized. More...”

“Spooky?”

A reluctant chuckle escaped Benton’s pursed lips. “Yes, son. This got significantly spookier than I expected.”

Jonny nodded. “You can say that again.”

He was going to make his way over to the kitchen island to join in on the discussion, but the click and creak of the basement door opening effectively brought all conversation to a halt.

More clicks; Angelica’s sensible high heels — if heels could ever be considered sensible — made their way quickly down the hallway, and her tall figure filled the doorway.

Jonny shifted uncomfortably where he stood. The look in Angelica’s eyes was almost manic, like she’d just gotten an IV of pure caffeine or something.

“I have finished with the preparations, and I am ready for you all.”

After a beat of silence, the room came back to life. Jessie gathered all the letters up, the sound of shuffling paper and the invisible electric buzz of anticipation filling the air. 

Jonny held back, letting the others file out of the kitchen, and caught Jessie gently by the wrist before she was able to leave the room.

She met his eyes — hers were almost as fiery as Angelica’s, but without the madness. He wanted to be able to match her excitement, but his mood had taken an abrupt turn for the worst, and he found himself overcome with a quiet sort of dread.

Jessie smiled at him and leaned in for a quick kiss, but Jonny slipped his hands up to her cheeks, pulling her back into something deeper. He could tell she was eager to head downstairs, but he was dying for just a few more seconds before… before something happened. He wasn’t sure what. 

After he finally broke away from the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. He sighed.

“Be careful, Ace.”

Her quiet laugh came out on a breath. “Jonny Quest telling me to be careful? You’re going to really freak me out if you’re not careful.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Or at least don’t worry too much. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t kind of like it.”

Jonny couldn’t bring himself to smile.

“Hey.” Her voice was gentle again. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, okay? It’s all going to work out.”

He hoped, desperately, that she was right. 

The buzz in the air upstairs had transformed into an actual buzz in the basement. A low-level hum reached their ears as soon as their feet hit the stairs, which didn’t help Jonny’s anxiety at all. He’d expected to find Angelica rushing from device to device, frantically checking instruments and levels, but she wasn’t. As they made their way through the brick archway, they found her standing next to her research setup; the stool, the hoop, the violet lights. 

Instinctively, Jonny’s hand came up to rub his forehead. Things hadn’t gone so well for him down here last time, and on top of his already-simmering anxiety, he was not looking forward to the swell of energy that was inevitably coming once the equipment was turned on.

“Alright,” said Angelica, authoritative and brusque. “We know how things went last time, and I would like to avoid any further bloodshed. Jessie, if it’s alright with you, I believe we’ll put you directly in the hoop from the start.”

She gestured to the stool, giving Jessie an expectant look. Jonny steeled himself for what was coming — the sight of Jessie in that hoop, in that light. The buzzing of energy in his brain, the embarrassing lust.

“Actually, Dr. Olssen, that’s not alright with me.”

Angelica opened her mouth to question her, but Jessie cut her off.

“I think Eleanora has had her space invaded plenty of times without her permission at this point. She pulled me in last time; she can pull me in again.”

Jonny swallowed down his opinion — Eleanora didn’t exactly ask for Jessie’s permission — and focused on Jessie’s confidence and determination. If she wasn’t worried, then he should trust that. 

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and pulled a chair into the far corner of the room. He sat down and crossed his arms, far away from Jessie, from where Eleanora would hopefully appear. 

All their baggage aside, Jessie Bannon was one of the most competent people he knew. He should trust her. 

He’d do his best.

***

The letters shook in Jessie’s hands, but not out of fear. She knew this would work, would help Eleanora find some freedom. She could feel it in her bones. She took a deep breath and nodded at Dr. Olssen, doing her best to prepare for the surge of energy and emotion she knew was coming.

And it did come, just like last time, but stronger. Rather than silent tears streaming down her cheeks, she could feel the grief swelling in her chest, could feel the burning panic that comes with the feeling of unchangeable loss, of knowing nothing will ever be the same.

Knowing the only thing you can do about it is endure.

A sob ripped out of her, and she felt the urge to scream, to drop to her knees, to pull on her hair, to do anything that might provide her with a sense of relief from the way her heart felt like it was being torn in two.

But, somehow, she didn’t. She fought the urge, and she cried, clutching the letters to her chest, paying close attention to the way they rose and fell with her breathing. She tried to listen to her breaths instead of the humming, even though she knew that would be impossible.

Jessie couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at her family, but she knew they had to feel just as frenzied as she did — the humming, the buzzing, it was far more amplified than the last time, and she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin.

And then the energy settled.

A rush of air slipped from her lungs, and relief washed over her as the light concentrated in the hoop in front of her, and her body accepted the elevated levels of energy in the room.

The relief, however, was short-lived. The stool remained empty, the violet light undisturbed.

Jessie looked desperately over at Angelica; with as much energy as she was pumping into the equipment this time, Jessie had figured Eleanora would show up right away. Olssen’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, and she simply shook her head.

Jessie took a step closer to the hoop. She cleared her throat. “Eleanora?”

The violet lights continued their barely-perceptible pulsing, and there was nothing but the ever-present buzz in the room.

She put the letters gently under her arm and held up her palms in a gesture of surrender. “Eleanora, you don’t have to take me this time. I’m here for you. Will you let me in again?”

Thirty seconds passed, and they felt like thousands of years. But soon, a warmth settled in her chest, and it was spreading. She felt her lips slide into a serene smile, and she reminded herself to stay tethered, to stay present. She noted the weight of the jade in her pocket.

She could hear whispering now, a quiet song of some kind, mumbled absentmindedly. She felt an otherworldly movement of air over her hands, and knew that the ghost woman was putting her own hands on hers, palm to palm. Eleanora’s fingers slid down hers until they were clasping hands. “It’s so lonely,” she said in a voice only Jessie could hear.

And with a gentle tug, Eleanora pulled Jessie into the hoop again, away from the computers, away from her family.

“Away from that man,” she said to Jessie, clear as a bell, once they were alone in the violet light.

“Eleanora.” Jessie flashed her a genuine smile. The last time she’d seen the ghost, it had been terrifying… but it had also been lovely . The woman had treated her with kindness — even if her methods were misguided — and Jessie had felt so cared for by her, and she couldn’t help but care for Eleanora, too. “Hi, Eleanora.”

“ Hello, love. I am so happy to have a friend here again.” The ghostly hands led Jessie to the stool, gently urging her to sit once more. And, so, Jessie did.

As she got comfortable on the old, wooden stool, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She had to admit that, in addition to her desire to help Eleanora find peace, she’d also been eagerly anticipating the luxurious feeling of the ghostly fingers in her hair, of feeling nurtured by this woman who, though she was centuries gone, felt like a twin soul.

“You could stay here, you know. Once they all leave.”

Fingernails that were both long and sturdy and nothing at all dug gently into her scalp by her hairline, and made trails toward the back of her skull. Jessie couldn’t stop the “Mmm,” that escaped her lips. Of course she couldn’t stay here; she knew that. But still, she asked, “Why? Why me?”

“You know what it’s like, Jessie. To straddle two worlds. To be loved in words but shunned in action. To live on the inside while feeling like you’re on the outside.”

Jessie nodded. She couldn’t argue with that.

“You know how it feels to have your heart cared for and nurtured and worshiped, right before it’s chewed to a fine pulp and spat out for the crows to devour.”

Eleanora’s fingers stopped their gentle traveling, and her fingernails pressed with an unsettling amount of pressure. Jessie stiffened, and the ghost’s fingers relaxed, resumed threading themselves through her hair.

“Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“We could spend our days in the warmth of one another’s presence. Open the kitchen curtains and let in the sunshine, talk about the past I know and the future you’ve seen.”

Eleanora had begun to lazily braid Jessie’s soft, fiery hair, making a loose plait and gently shaking it out, only to begin again.

Jessie sighed. “I’ve got so many things I’d like to do, Eleanora. I can’t do them if I stay here forever.”

The ghost laughed quietly. It was a sad laugh, one full of centuries of knowing. “But if you stay here, your heart will be safe. Your body will be safe. No one can hurt you, or take anything away from you.”

Jessie’s brain took a moment to focus through the violet haze. Her body? Was she talking about her grave? Or something else?

“Eleanora,” she murmured. “Who took something from you? Who hurt you?”

Another sad chuckle. “Love, you don’t need that story in your heart. You have enough hurt in your past.”

“But I want to understand you better.” She swallowed, guiltily debated her next words. “We’re… friends, right?”

“Friendship can deepen over time, Jessie.”

Jessie took a deep breath and dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. The pain was mild, but bright enough to bring her back to the present for a moment. You can’t actually stay here forever, she reminded herself.

“Was it Joseph?”

The ghost’s fingers stopped moving entirely.

Jessie had gone out on a limb, and she’d found the right footing. There were quite a few names on the plaques and statues peppered throughout Glace Bay, and Joseph LeBlanc’s name and handsome face were repeat offenders. She’d done some research, and his lifetime matched up nicely with what little information there was available about the witch of Blackbrook Cemetery.

Eleanora’s hands fell to her sides, and she took a few steps away from Jessie, who felt the cold distance immediately.

The warmth seeped from her chest like something had actively leached it out of her, and she could feel her pulse quickening with what was likely Eleanora’s own anxiety. Jessie slowly stood up from the stool and turned toward her.

“How? How did you—” The woman had pulled up a section of her skirts and was wringing the fabric in her hands. Her eyes were shining in the violet light, and Jessie’s heart hurt for her.

“I just did my research, Eleanora. I cared, and I took the time.” She took a step toward her, but only a step. “Please, can you tell me about him?” Jessie realized, as Eleanora’s eyes widened in fear, that she had probably never told anyone about this, not even when she was alive. “It helps to talk about the things that hurt. I know that sounds crazy, but I promise it does.”

Jessie took another step toward her, and held out the letters. She’d brought the originals, not the copies she’d made, and the ancient paper trembled in her outstretched hand.

As soon as Eleanora’s nervous fingers touched the paper, Jessie noticed a distinct shift in the air. She felt the hair raise on her arms and the back of her neck, and she was vaguely aware of a flutter of activity outside the violet light.

Eleanora’s eyes were frantically racing from left to right, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Jessie quickly closed the gap between them and took her by the elbow — a very strange feeling — and led her to sit on the stool.

The ghost was sobbing now. Her shoulders shook, and her long hair fell into her face. Jessie moved behind her, reaching forward to pull the dark locks back behind her shoulders and, in a moment of compulsion, brought her fingertips to the top of her head. She did her best to mimic the motions Eleanora had used earlier — gentle scratching from her forehead to the base of her skull. Long, slow strokes that would hopefully have the same calming effect that it had on her.

Jessie wasn’t sure how long Eleanora sat crying, but she wasn’t about to stop her. How often did ghosts cry? Had she not cried in hundreds of years? Or did she cry all the time, walking around Birch House, wailing and sobbing with the wind?

Her hands slid through Eleanora’s hair in soothing repetition. She could see that, upon closer inspection, there were streaks of silver woven throughout the long dark locks, and she wondered if the early gray was hereditary, or if the stress of what she’d been through had stripped it of its color.

Eventually, Eleanora fell silent, and Jessie could hear her breathing returning to normal.

“Jessie?” She asked, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I apologize for stealing into you. I felt a connection with you, and I hadn’t felt anything like that for so long. But that is no excuse. I took ownership of your body, and you gave me no consent. I am sorry.”

Her instinct was to say “It’s okay,” but the truth was that it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. It had opened an old wound, brought old fears to the surface, and triggered an anxiety attack. “Thank you for saying that, Eleanora. I understand why you did it, but I wish you wouldn’t have.”

“I cannot take back what I did, but I can give you some answers. Would that be alright?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jessie swallowed, took a steadying breath. “But I desperately want to know more about you. I want to shoulder some of your pain so you don’t have to carry it all alone.”

Eleanora nodded, and Jessie was relieved to feel the warmth settle back into her chest. She felt her muscles relax a bit, and noticed the haze in the air around her thicken just a little. “May I touch your hands?”

Jessie nodded, too. “Yes.”

The woman’s skin was cool then, and actually felt real and solid, if a little ethereal. Eleanora reached up and took Jessie’s hands from her hair, bringing them down to cover her eyes. She held them in place, and took a slow, deep breath.

Jessie’s vision faded into blackness, and after a few seconds of blurry panic, she found herself staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen.

They weren’t ice blue like Jonny’s, which were beautiful all on their own, but there was something about these eyes that had her breath catching in her throat. They were a light, warm chestnut color, like sunlight refracting through an old brown bottle. And they were deep . She couldn’t explain it any better than that. She felt like she could sink to the bottom of them and drown happily, eagerly accepting the trip into eternity.

The man’s hands were cupped on her cheeks, and she could suddenly feel herself in the body she was inhabiting — Eleanora’s body. Her lips felt pleasantly ravished, her skin was flushed, and she realized that she desperately didn’t want this man to leave.

“I must leave, Ellie. I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect this storm to come up so quickly. Father will be expecting me to help with the animals.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, gazed at her mouth with obvious regret. She looked up; there was a storm blowing in, and it was clear the small thicket of trees they were hiding in wouldn’t provide enough protection from the wind and rain. 

After a moment, he pulled her into him in a sweet, strong embrace. She loved the way it felt to be pulled so tightly against him, like he’d die if there was a shred of space between them. He released her, kissed her once more, and left the thicket quickly and quietly.

Jessie was overcome by the feeling of loss and emptiness and — she suddenly realized —  a powerful wave of nausea. She prepared herself to vomit, but the darkness returned, stealing the scene into the ether.

When her eyes cleared again, the nausea was nowhere near as bad. It was still there, but it was a ghost of what it had been. She found herself lying in bed in a good-sized room — no, it was a hut or a cottage of some kind . There was a hearth, a small table and chairs, and shelves upon shelves of bottles, boxes, and urns. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, and she couldn’t help but indulge in a strange feeling of lazy contentment, despite the whisper of nausea.

Her next realization was that she was very naked.

Jessie’s brain desperately scrambled to make her hands pull the bedsheets up over her breasts, but no matter how hard she tried, she simply lied there, luxuriating.

A large hand found its way over to her abdomen and splayed itself out there, which made her body jump in surprise she didn’t understand. It felt incredibly vulnerable to have his hand there; it was eliciting a feeling of small panic. The hand moved slowly up her stomach and finally rested comfortably on her right breast. It felt wonderful.

Jessie, who couldn’t help but be deeply uncomfortable with this, struggled with the confusion of it all.

She turned to look at his face, and found the man staring at her with a sad smile — his beautiful eyes had a melancholy look to them, and Jessie’s confusion increased, reaching an almost panicked state.

What is happening? Her racing thoughts matched the pace of her heartbeat. It felt like she would either die of ecstasy or despair; she couldn’t sort through the feelings. 

“What’s wrong? ” Eleanora’s deep, rich voice pushed its way out of her lips, but the man — Joseph — didn’t respond. “Joe?”

Almost instantly, his eyes snapped back into the moment they were sharing. They were the bright, encouraging warm eyes she knew so well, the ones that had snagged her gaze so forcefully in the marketplace. The ones that locked onto hers as he had asked, “Can you recommend a tea for sleep?”

“Nothing, my love.” He swallowed heavily, and brushed a stuck piece of hair off her collarbone, placed a kiss on the skin he found there. “My stars in the sky, my ever-crashing tide.”

Jessie felt the thrill of his words roll through her body. Eleanora’s memories were rushing into Jessie’s mind — she could see them in their thicket, leaning against the largest tree, giggling secretly as he read her his poetry. They would take turns, sharing the things they were most passionate about.

Joseph would open his worn journal and read to her stanzas and lines about the moon, about the ocean, about the color of her eyes and the swell of her breast.

And she, in turn, would tell him about the plants around them, even in that very thicket. About herbs that could cure a stomach ache or tinctures that would ease the mind and heart when a person found themselves tangled in anxiety and worry.

Jessie marveled as she watched them listen to each other. They asked questions, they remembered the words the other one said; committed them to memory. It was beautiful, but Jessie knew how it ended: with Eleanora, lonely and angry, wandering Birch House as the years piled up and passed by her.

“You look parched, love. Tea?” Joseph painted a feigned, thoughtful look on his face. “Perhaps a concoction to replenish everything you’ve…” He reached over and grabbed the corner of the bedsheet, pulled it up to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “... lost this past hour?”

“And what kind of concoction would that be, hmm?”

Joseph laughed and pulled himself up to sitting. Jessie felt the thrill of seeing his body flutter through her chest and straight down between her legs. He was broad-shouldered and shockingly golden — as though he worked shirtless in the sunshine like a calendar model or someone on the cover of a romance novel.

“I was thinking… nettle?”

She sat up, too, and nodded at him.

“And… honey. Citrus, too?”

Jessie felt herself nodding fervently, feeling the lovely warmth of knowing how much he had listened and retained the information she’d shared with him.

“And salt, of course. Not too much, but enough.”

“Very good!” She said.

He stood up fully then, and Jessie couldn’t help but stare. She had never, as far as she could remember, used the word “stud” in seriousness. But Joseph LeBlanc was absolutely that — a stud. He was huge; tall and toned, and he towered over the bed and her. Jessie was shocked at the lust that was bubbling up in her, and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was only Eleanora’s desires at work.

To her acute dismay, he pulled his trousers up over his hips before heading to the kitchen area to grab a teacup.

“Trousers? Already?” She asked.

He filled the teacup with hot water from the pot she had bubbling over the fire. “I’ve got to meet with Father today.”

She wrinkled her nose.

He turned to look over his shoulder and caught the look before she could smooth her face. He chuckled. “I know, love. I’m not leaving just yet, though. Close those gorgeous eyes and rest a bit while I make you tea.”

She smiled and complied, lying on her back, stretching out in her full, naked glory. Jessie was in awe of Eleanora’s confidence, of her ability to lay herself so bare in the presence of this man.

She enjoyed listening to the clinking of jars and the dry shuffling of herbs. She knew exactly the moment he dipped the herbs into the water, as the exotic smell of citrus filled her small home.

“Mmm,” she purred. “That smells lovely.”

She opened her eyes as she felt his weight on her bed, and she sat up to accept the cup of tea. She looked down at the concoction he’d so lovingly prepared for her, and raised an eyebrow at the extra slice of dried orange in her drink, and the color that suggested he’d added extra honey.

“You forget that these ingredients are very expensive, Joe.”

“You deserve a little decadence sometimes, Ellie.”

She smiled at him, and took a sip of the tea. “A little decadence, yes, but you’ve been spoiling me lately.”

Jessie couldn’t argue with the fact that it was decadent. Even though she’d had a candy bar just the other day, Eleanora’s excitement and visceral satisfaction over the sweetness of the honey and the vibrance of the citrus had her reeling with a surprising ecstasy. It was clear that this was a treat, that she didn’t usually indulge in these ingredients often.

While she drank her tea, he sat behind her and played with her hair. His large, strong hands ran through her hair with shocking delicacy. She smiled quietly to herself as she felt him braid her hair loosely — she knew Joseph’s mother had taught him how to braid his younger sister’s hair. She’d always felt it to be such a staggering action of love, of gentleness and care.

She drained the last of her tea, then pulled a dried orange slice from her cup to chew on it, as she always did. It was such a precious ingredient; she wanted to get as much out of it as she could.

Before she could bring the slice to her lips, however, she was jolted out of her lazy reverie by a small splash of liquid on her shoulder.

By Joseph’s quickened breathing.

A sudden gentle shaking of the bed, of his body.

Another splash — tears.

Jessie felt the way dread abruptly replaced her feelings of contentment. She started to feel a mental separation from Eleanora, but not a physical one. Her thoughts were clearing as her emotions began incrementally climbing to a fever pitch, her chest tightening unbearably.

“Joseph?” She tossed her cup to the side, letting the muslin bag of herbs and citrus slices spill onto the sheets. She turned around to see him crying, quietly. Not sobbing or wailing, certainly, but the tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was deliberately avoiding her gaze as grief whimpered out of him.

“Joseph? What in the world is the matter?”

Joseph shook his head, still not meeting her eyes. She could see him trying to calm himself, though. Watched him attempt to get a handle on his breath.

“Joseph!” She leaned forward and shook his shoulders violently. She couldn’t take it, couldn’t take the dread, not while she was naked and vulnerable, when she was so recently happy, so languid and content.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

His voice was raw, but it was firm. And that little bit of firmness, that miniscule edge in his voice had a spark of horror igniting at the base of her spine. It was a familiar feeling for her; the feeling you get when your worst nightmare — the one that niggles at the back of your mind and you do your best to stamp it down into the depths of your consciousness — is suddenly at the very real risk of coming true.

This love, their love , had always seemed too good to be true. Eleanora had always figured he would leave her, someday. Leave her for his responsibilities, his status, his destiny.

Jessie could feel her desperation, could feel the searing need to scream at him, to make him say something.

But he wouldn’t say anything more. He wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t look at her. Instead, his eyes stared over her shoulder, focused on something just beyond her. She turned, followed his gaze to the spilled teacup, to the bag lying a few inches past it.

A tiny splinter of ice formed in her chest. It may have been Eleanora’s body, but Jessie knew this feeling, too. The realization of betrayal. Of thinking you knew someone; thinking you were on the same page. Thinking you had something together that mattered. And then, suddenly, unfolding before you, is proof that your love is something that can be discarded. That the person you are isn’t enough.

Jessie watched helplessly as Eleanora scrambled like a wild animal, naked and frantically panting, across the sheets to the tiny bag of herbs. She ripped it open, let the contents fall into the palm of her hand. As she dug desperately through the crushed herbs, the tears started rolling down her cheeks. 

Pennyroyal. 

Tansy. 

Rue.

The sad look in his eyes.

His hand on her stomach.

Slowly, she turned her head to him. Disbelief took over as the herbs fell out of her hand in a wet clump. She reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, the remaining herbs sticking to her in a dark, dirty smear.

She opened her mouth as if to say something to him, an accusation, a plea, a feral keen.

But instead she flew into action, shoved her index finger down her throat as far as she could. She barely had the chance to gag before his fingers gripped her wrist, tore her hand from her mouth.

She tried to wrench away from him, but he simply tightened his grip on her wrist, the pain of it finally pulling an actual sob out of her. She tried again, with her free hand, to empty the contents of the tea from her stomach, but he stood up and simply lifted her scrabbling, fighting body off the bed, her back to his chest, her arms pinned under his forced embrace.

“Shhh, love. Stop.”

All she could do was scream at him — a ragged sound, laden with frustration and anguish.

“There’s no point!” He yelled over her. “It’s too late!”

“It’s not!” she cried. “I can still— I can…” The flavor of honey on her tongue was curdling, turning acidic and cloying as realization crept into the corners of her mind.

The honey.

The citrus.

The decadence.

For days. Almost a week.

She stopped fighting him, fell slack against his body.

“How? How did you know?”

He sighed behind her. “I listen to you, my love. When you talk to me, I listen. When you told me about the Cabot girl, how she conceived and carried and lost, I paid attention.”

Trapped under his strong arms, the arms that had held her in love and lust so many times, she let her hands slide over her belly, felt out-of-body as her fingers formed into claws on her skin, grabbing at the flesh she’d been so proud of, so giddy about.

But Joseph was shaking. Almost sobbing now.

Jessie could feel the revulsion building in Eleanora’s chest, felt the small-but-undeniable shift from pure love to absolute hatred, white-hot and blinding.

“Don’t you dare cry for this child.”

“Please, Eleanora, I—”

“You stole it from me. You stole it from me!”

She wrenched her body abruptly, startling him into loosening his grip. As she put space between them, she whirled around to look at him, look in his eyes. She expected to be met with an evil, heartless gaze, but was dismayed to find worse — torture, grief, love.

She tamped those same feelings down in herself, pushed them into the depths, banished them, and looked around the room for something, anything , she could pick up. Her eyes settled on the poker by the fire. Heavy, rusty, perfect.

If he could steal a life, then so could she.

She could, but she didn’t. Her quick steps toward the fire were interrupted by the teacup that had rolled off the bed, and she felt a distinct snap in her ankle. She fell, but she never found the floor.

Joseph caught her. He rushed to her, prevented her fall, and protectively pulled her to his chest.

Her throat was raw and burning, but she had the wherewithal for one last, reverberating scream. She wrestled a hand free and clawed at his cheek, finding a twisted glee at the sight of his blood.

He shouted in pain, and threw her away from him. Shoved her to the bed with force she didn’t think he’d ever show toward her. That’s where she finally gave up. Jessie looked down at her body. She was naked, surrounded by sheets. Sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

She cried for what felt like an eternity. Joseph simply stood above her, his mouth in a tight line, his bare chest moving up and down in an unsettlingly steady rhythm. A thin trail of blood was making its way down his neck.

“I know that if you had the breath, you’d ask me why,” he said. His voice was calm now. It was no longer shaky, no longer laced with guilt. “But the answer is something you already know. Something we’ve both known this whole time. I have too many things to do, Eleanora. Changes to enact, progress to make. I can’t do those things while entangled with the town witch, tied to her child.”

“Our child.” 

He nodded once.

“You’re a coward,” she spat out. Rage hissing from between her teeth.

He nodded again. “I am. I am as much a coward as I am weak — beholden to lust and flesh.”

Jessie felt the shudder rush through Eleanora’s body. The woman hadn’t thought she could be shocked anymore than she already had, but she had, of course, been wrong.

Her vision was blurring, and Jessie wasn’t sure if it was Eleanora’s rage or her ghostly magic, trying to pull her back to the present.

“You leave your God out of this. That’s not what this is about.”

With that, Joseph nodded tersely again. Bent over and picked his shirt up off the floor. “You’re exactly right. It’s not about my God. It’s about his enemy. Someone you are certainly likely to be familiar with.”

He turned, shoved his feet into his boots and strode to the front door of her cottage. He turned one last time to look at her. “I have known the necessity of this since the moment I realized you were with child. I do regret it, Eleanora. I do regret hurting you. But there is no other way.” He opened the door a little, and the full moon’s light poured in through the crack. “I have planned this well. Any attempts to discredit me will not be believed or entertained.”

Realizing this was it, realizing he was about to walk out of her life completely, her panic rose up again in her chest. “The people in this town are grateful to me. They care for me. I am important to them.”

He shook his head sadly. “My love.”

She shuddered at the term of endearment, so out of place, so gutting.

“These people need you, yes. But they are terrified of you as well. Hide this in your heart and take it with you to judgment, lest you’re looking to be burned before you even make it to hell.”

He opened the door fully and slipped out into the night, without looking back. 

The room was blurring, and Jessie had never been so relieved to see her vision turn black.

***

From black to violet, Jessie’s vision eventually cleared. Overwhelmed and devastated, she looked down at the woman sitting in front of her, unmoving, her hands tenderly holding Jessie’s over her eyes. How could she sit there so stoically? Knowing the memories she was sharing?

Eleanora sighed, likely knowing the slideshow was over. Shaking, Jessie removed her hands from the woman’s eyes and pulled her into her chest, holding her to her tightly, stroking her hair while tears wet the strands on top of her head.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Oh my god, Eleanora, I’m so sorry.”

She felt the confusing weight and warmth of this ghost relax into her, felt her luxuriating in the embrace.

“I thought it would hurt less over time, but it does not.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

“I have had… so much time.”

Jessie released Eleanora from her arms, and moved to her knees in front of the stool. She took the pale hands in her own, and looked up to meet those ghostly, anguished eyes.

“You haven’t had time, Eleanora. You lived with your grief for a few years and then time stopped for you. You’ve simply been existing in pain for centuries. ”

“I have always wanted for friends. Have always wanted to belong. The baby was going to be that for me… somewhere I belonged. Of course I wanted to share it with Joseph, but I always knew I would lose him. The baby would be a home, a memory of him. We could have lived quietly. We could have left. We would have been home wherever we went.”

Jessie had once read somewhere that different emotions produced different types of tears. That sad tears were more acidic, and that angry tears were more salty. She’d always had a feeling that it wasn’t really true — that, yes, emotional tears are different from, say, crying after cutting an onion, but they were probably made of pretty much the same stuff. That didn’t stop her, though, from imagining the taste of her tears changing with every fluctuation of emotion. From pretending that happy tears tasted cool and refreshing, with just enough salt to still qualify as tears.

And in this moment, a part of her knew a change was happening — from sour sadness to the salt of rage, of determination. Shards of things were clicking together, seams were blending in Jessie’s mind. 

“How far along were you, Eleanora?”

“Almost 10 weeks. ”

Jessie swallowed, hard. The miscarriage would not have gone by unnoticed.

There would have been something left to bury.

“Where are your bones, Eleanora?”

The ghost shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

Eleanora shrugged. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt them. I imagine my connection has been washed away with the years. Like the tides. I always felt a pull toward them, in the woods.” She pressed her lips into a thin, angry line. “So close to it… but not close enough.”

“Close to it? To… to your baby?”

Eleanora nodded sadly. A faintly shimmering tear made a trail down her cheek. “I sneaked in at night, buried it in the cemetery. No one would have noticed — it was a very small grave. I don’t… I don’t really believe in those things. In hallowed ground. But I wanted to give it whatever chance I could. And I hoped I could be buried near it. Hoped we could somehow… meet one another one day. That we could both find home.”

“And they couldn’t give you that one thing. He couldn’t.”

Eleanora nodded again, confirming.

“They buried you just out of reach. For eternity.”

A final nod.

Jessie gave her hands a squeeze, and stood up. She clapped her own hands together, as though she were ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work. “You’re going to find home, Eleanora. I promise you that.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s going to take some paperwork, and more time than either one of us want, but we’re moving your bones. We’re burying you in that cemetery with your baby.”

The ghost didn’t speak. It seemed she couldn’t find the words.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant,” Jessie said. “I don’t know what it’s like to have and lose a baby. But I know what it’s like to feel helpless, like the rest of the world is in control. Or a ghost is in control. Or like fear is in control. You deserve to be in charge of what happens to you right now, and you deserve to feel complete. So you can finally rest.”

Finally, Eleanora smiled.

It wasn’t a malicious smile, it wasn’t knowing or mischievous. It was a smile of hope , and it infused Jessie with an energy she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jessie stepped forward and put her hands on Eleanora’s cheeks. She kissed her forehead. She looked into her eyes. “I will be back. I promise. And I’m taking you home.”

Jessie stepped out of the violet light without any trouble. 

There was nothing holding her back this time.

Chapter Text

Jessie couldn’t sleep.

The clock showed 1:00 am. Lawr, Jenna, and Duke would be there in the morning, and she knew she had a long day of phone calls and paperwork ahead of her. Probably a trip into town.

She figured she’d be exhausted, that she’d spent so much of her energy with Eleanora that she’d be out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

But no. Here she was, staring out the window into the darkness, her heart beating furiously.

Her anger at Joseph LeBlanc, at a society that bred — still breeds — a lust for power in men that supersedes connection and care… mingled with something else.

Excitement. Satisfaction. Hope, and even a dash of triumph.

She had known something didn’t add up. That Eleanora’s story was more than just a local legend, that she was more than a ghost hiding under a white sheet.

That there was something Jessie could actually do for her, that she could help her find a piece of herself that was lost so long ago. Help her find a small scrap of her own power.

But it was the middle of the night. Even if she’d hopped into the jeep right now and raced into town, everything would be closed. 

There was nothing to do but wait.

She sat up and looked around the room. What could she do to stop her racing thoughts, slow her pulse? Maybe she could read a book — that was almost always a surefire way to knock her out at night.

But the thought of sitting still made her want to crawl out of her skin. So, no. Plus, her stomach was starting to growl.

Food, she thought. A midnight snack would be just the ticket.

She swung her feet off the bed, wincing at the frigid hardwood floor, and wiggled them into her slippers. She quickly padded to her bedroom door and slipped out into the dim hallway, mentally going through what she knew was in the refrigerator.

A sandwich. Yeah, she thought. Salami, ham, entirely too much mayo, and—

“Oh!”

She’d fully expected the hallway to be empty. Everyone had gone to sleep hours ago, and everything had sounded pretty quiet. The walls and doors in her bedroom were uncharacteristically thick and sturdy, though, so that really wasn’t a good indicator.

And it’s not like Jonny was being loud out in the hallway, either. She’d quietly closed the door behind her to find him pacing — actually pacing — back and forth in front of her bedroom. He was muttering something, chewing on his thumbnail, when she’d startled him, and he was now looking up at her with fairly wild eyes.

“Jess!” He yipped. She’d really caught him off-guard. 

In fact, he’d been about to quit his insane pacing and head downstairs for a drink, in the hopes that he could slow his racing thoughts. But here she was, looking rumpled and soft in her pajamas and braided hair.

Her adorable pajamas. They had buttons and a collar and a shirt pocket; like something the leading man in an old Hollywood movie would have worn to bed. The neckline plunged down low enough that he could see the tops of her breasts. Her very… untethered breasts. 

He exhaled. He shook his head briefly. Ran a hand through his hair. 

Get it together, Quest.

The truth was, Jonny was a mess.

He’d been lying in bed, listening to Hadji breathe quietly, listening to the wind outside, worrying about Jessie. After they came upstairs earlier, she told them everything she’d learned. What Joseph had done to Eleanora turned his stomach, lit a fire of anger in him that was only overshadowed by the heavy weight of guilt that had settled in his chest.

Jessie had mentioned how confusing it had all been, especially Joseph’s guilt and grief. The bastard had hurt Eleanora — thoroughly and brutally — even though it broke his heart to do it. He grieved that baby, grieved the loss of their love.

And he’d done it anyway.

Jonny knew exactly what it felt like to grieve something you longed for — the very thing you threw away yourself. Threw it away out of fear. Out of a need for control… control of outcomes, of freedom, of his feelings.

“Jonny?” Jessie took a few steps toward him, reaching out for his arm. He startled visibly at her touch. “What the hell are you doing out here? You’re pacing like… like an old Hollywood guy waiting for his wife to have a baby or something.”

He laughed at that. “Must be the theme tonight. Too bad I don’t smoke cigars.”

“Huh?” She reached up and put her hand on his forehead, pushing his bangs up out of his eyes. “Seriously, are you feeling okay? You’re being… weird.”

Her hand was cool and felt sweet on his skin, so he closed his eyes and leaned into it, nuzzled his face against her forearm a little before letting it rest there. “I’m okay. I’m just an ass.” 

“What?”

“I’m such a dick.”

“Did something happen in the couple of hours after you went to bed?” A tinge of annoyance was creeping into her voice. “Did you kick a hamster or something?”

His eyes flashed open. “No, I—” 

“Then I’m not exactly sure of what you’re fretting over right now.”

“I just… I keep thinking of you. Of—” He swallowed. “Of you sitting on the bed, after… well, after. When I yelled at you. When I said those shitty things to you and made you cry. Just… naked and crying. I just—”

Jessie’s breath came out in a frustrated hiss. She pulled her arm down away from his face and took a step back, putting some hallway between them.

“Oh my god, Jonny.”

“What, I—” 

“Are you seriously comparing yourself to Joseph LeBlanc?”

“I mean, it’s not exactly the same, but—”

“It’s barely the same. What you did to me took years to forgive. And if you want me to be brutally honest with you? I’d say barely forgave, just to be accurate. You betrayed me, yeah, and you broke my heart. And trust is slow going, but it’s going . But what he did? I would never forgive him. Not for centuries. Not ever. He took away her choice over her own body — just so that he could stay comfortable in his power. Fuck that.”

The tightness in Jonny’s chest started to subside, the itching between his eyebrows fading into his consciousness. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Right. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Jess.”

If he’d expected to see softness in her face when his eyes opened again, he had another thing coming. Her arms were crossed, and exasperation was rolling off her in waves.

“I did not say that to make you feel better.”

“No, I—”

“In fact, it is distinctly not my job to make you feel better about what you did to me.”

“I—” He stopped himself this time. Made eye contact with her. “Okay.”

“It is your job to trust that I know what I want for myself.” Her arms uncrossed, came to rest at her sides. “I was in the room with you when you told Hadji we’re ‘not mad at each other anymore’ right?”

“Right.”

“And did I challenge you on that? Did I disagree?”

“No.”

“I’m not mad at you, Jonny. Okay? I’m…” This time her eyes did soften. “I’m scared of being hurt again, yeah. But I’m really tired of living in my past. I’ve enjoyed feeling… nervous around you. Nervous in a good way.”

He raised an eyebrow, couldn’t help but let a small smile creep across his lips.

“I’ve enjoyed being close to you, wondering if you’re going to touch me, or lean into me, or… even just smile at me.”

Jonny came this close to asking, “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” But he stopped himself. She had literally just told him she wasn’t. And he owed it to her to trust that. So he smiled at her. 

And she smiled at him. Sweetly; the way she looked seconds before she gleefully sank her teeth into a pastry. 

He took a tentative step toward her, pleased to see that she didn’t step away. “Are you nervous right now, Ace?”

She nodded. “Mmhm.”

He took a few more steps, almost completely closing the space between them — he left about an inch.

“Wondering if I’m going to touch you?”

She shook her head.

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m… hoping you’ll touch me.”

Jessie let her eyes flick up to his, caught the way his gaze locked on hers. Oh god, she thought. She was actually dizzy . His scent — the scent she’d been enjoying in her own hair the past few days — was stronger when he was this close to her. It blended with him, somehow; it smelled so much better on his skin, in his hair, than it did in hers. She couldn’t help it — she broke the staring contest and closed her eyes, taking a deep, slow inhale.

“Jesus, Jess.” The words practically whooshed out of him on his exhale. The way she had closed her eyes, tipped her chin up just a little bit, and let her lips part lazily was too much.

Jonny felt like he was made out of fire, of unbearable pressure, of electricity. Like if he wasn’t careful, he’d just burn up in the atmosphere like a piece of space dust. “Well,” he whispered. “I’ve always been a big fan of hope.”

And he did touch her. But not like she’d been hoping. She’d thought, maybe, he’d put his hands on her waist, pull her close to him, and… kiss her? Cradle her into him? Something sweet?

She did not expect him to wrap his hands around her tense shoulders, thumbs giving a gentle press into her, to push her against the bedroom door she’d just stepped out of.

Jessie let out a surprised squeak and caught his gaze again, and it didn’t help the state Jonny was in. It simply whipped him into more of a frenzy; her wide eyes, both hungry and wondering. Her quickly-moving chest, rising up and down at a pace that betrayed her nerves.

Her chest. Jesus.

With the door behind her providing some support, he was able to reach up and slide a hand behind her neck, letting some of her soft hair tangle in his fingers. He let his thumb rest on her throat below her jaw, applying just enough pressure to feel her pulse.

It was gentle, but the pressure was enough to send her heart rate soaring even further into the stratosphere than it already was.

And it pulled a quiet, breathy laugh out of Jonny. “You are nervous, Ace.”

“I— I, ah.” She stopped talking, sucked in a breath, tried to collect herself. “Hmm. I—”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” He whispered. “You were hoping I would touch you. And I did, right?”

She nodded quickly, with a few tiny jerks of her head.

“ Now what are you hoping for?”

Jessie swallowed, flustered by his closeness, by his eye contact, by his fingers in her hair and his thumb on her pulse. “Honestly, Jonny, I don’t know what to expect from you.”

He leaned in, replacing his thumb with his lips, pressing a kiss to the fluttering evidence her heart was providing.

Evidence that only further proved she wanted him. She’d just told him she wanted his hands on her, but seeing the way her body was reacting to him, the way her breath caught every time his fingers moved the slightest bit against her skin — it only added to his resolve, only stoked the flickering embers in his chest to something fairly roaring.

“Good,” he murmured into her skin. “I would hate to be… predictable.” The rumble of his voice into the crook of her neck had goosebumps rippling up her arms, her nipples tightening against her shirt. She arched her back enough to push herself into him, aching to feel his body against her.

He laughed lazily and lifted his head to get a better view of her. Jessie’s cheeks were flushed, her green eyes were heavy and focused, and she was staring at his lips. Like she was hungry.

But she was hesitating.

He wondered momentarily at what had happened to the resolve she’d had just seconds ago — where the forcefulness went. 

He wasn’t too worried, though. He used to be good at dragging her with him on an adventure, and he certainly hoped this would fall into that category.

He slid his hands down, pinning her shoulders to the door again. He wanted a better look. He wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

“What?”

His voice was firm. So was he, and she both lamented the space he’d put between them and thrilled at the way he’d pushed her shoulders back into the door. She hadn’t expected that. “Hmm?” 

“What’s going on in there, Ace? What turned down your volume?”

Jessie exhaled loudly. Deliberately.

She was struggling.

Her skin felt like it was burning and her brain felt like it was spinning out.

She’d been so sure. She’d been ready. She was still ready, but her mind was trying its best to sabotage her, as per usual.

She’d been so focused on all of the emotional implications of this — the two of them, together, their past, their trust — that the physical part of it all had taken a backseat in her consciousness. But as she watched him watch her, practically drinking her up with his gaze, promising her that this is definitely happening , the insecurities unbuckled themselves and hopped into the forefront of her thoughts. She was out of practice.

She didn’t know what he liked.

She barely remembered what she liked.

“I… it’s been… a while. Since I’ve…” She chewed on her bottom lip, looked up at him searchingly, hoping he’d finish the sentence.

“Oh,” he smiled.

Mischievously. 

She couldn’t help but swoon at him — the confident grin spreading across his face as he realized what she was worried about. The crinkles at the corners of his cool, crystal eyes. The way his hair always looked shaggy — whether it was long or short — and the way he rubbed his thumbs in slow circles on her shoulders. She felt a little lightheaded; literally weak in the knees.

“Oh, Ace.” He breathed, and he pressed his hips to hers, his hardness meeting her warmth.  “Sweetheart, don’t you worry about a thing.”

And he kissed her.

And it was so good.

And suddenly, being called “sweetheart” wasn’t so funny anymore. 

Jonny’s lips were soft, but the pressure was firm, insistent. He was testing the waters. His tongue slipped between her lips in a tentative exploration. Skilled and playful. Not too much — nothing clumsy or invasive.

Just enough to remind her of what he’s capable of.

When the memory of his face buried between her legs flashed into her mind, she let out a tiny gasp. Sent out a quiet message to the universe, hoping he’d be up for that again.

There was something in that sound that went straight to Jonny’s cock.

“Fuck.” His voice was husky, gravelly, and he leaned into her in earnest this time, watching her eyes widen before settling closed, finally getting a semblance of the friction they’d both been wanting.

“Jessie,” he panted. He let his hands wander down, hooked a finger in the low collar of her shirt. It pulled the fabric aside enough for him to see the whole of her left breast, and he pulled on the collar, jostling the top button loose.

When he ran his thumb over her exposed nipple, her breath rushed out of her in another whimper. He took the pink, pebbled skin between his fingers and pinched lightly. Her eyes flashed open and the whimper changed then — melted from a light, breathless sound into something decidedly more languid and earthy. A moan . 

Oh god, he thought. The look in her eyes could be bottled up and sold on the streets — he was ready to lose himself to it. He’d do anything to hear that sound again.

He rolled her nipple between his fingers lightly, feeling distinctly unworthy of how good she felt in his hands. He pinched it again, a little harder this time, and her eyes rolled back before closing, and she practically purred in appreciation.

She liked that.

He spread his hand to cup her whole breast, squeezing firmly, letting his thumb brush over the nipple, reminding it that he wasn’t going anywhere. Jessie’s lips parted, and before she could make a sound, Jonny’s mouth was on hers again. He savored her bottom lip, scraping his teeth lightly on it as he pulled away, as he pressed his aching cock into her, eliciting sounds that threatened to drive him into madness.

“As hot as this is,” he breathed out, “I think we better find some privacy, Jess. I’m gonna need you to be a lot more naked than this.”

She didn’t have words. She just nodded fervently at him, stepped aside, and turned to open the door, beckoning him in with a quick gesture. He grabbed her wrist lightly before following her. 

“Do I need to run back to my room and grab—”

She shook her head. “Nope. We’re good.”

Internally, Jonny cheered. He’d never stop being grateful for modern medicine.

As soon as the door was closed — and locked — he was on her. In a handful of breaths, he had her top unbuttoned all the way, and marveled at her full, naked breasts. Nipples, hard and pink, swells of creamy skin, her breaths moving her chest up and down and up and down… 

He smiled. “Fuck,” he whispered. “This is so awesome.”

And she laughed, her head tossed back, the tension in her shoulders a distant memory.

“What?”

“It is awesome, Jonny. You’re right about that.” She reached up to her open lapels and shuffled the pajama top off, letting it flutter to the floor.

He licked his lips. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

They stared at each other for a beat before his lips curved. He beckoned to her with his index finger. “Come here.”

And she did, with quick, quiet steps. She brought her hands up to his face and kissed him again, reveling in the way he smiled into her lips, the way he hummed his satisfaction. 

Jessie’s hands slid down from his cheeks, down his neck, over his chest, and to the bottom of his shirt, where she curled her fingertips under and pulled it up.

“Mmm,” she murmured, when she got a glimpse of his abs.

He couldn’t hide his cocky grin. “See something you like?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded. “They’re like a package of dinner rolls.”

“A package of—” He cut himself off and shook his head, laughing, while he reached down and helped her take his shirt fully off. He delighted in the squeal she made as he scooped her up in his arms and took her over to her bed.

It felt strange to be in this setting — an ancient mansion full of sorrow and mystery — and to feel so completely right. To look up at this man and know how badly he wanted to take care of her.

How badly he wanted to take her.

She’d spent so much of her life overcompensating for “being a girl” that she’d turned independence into a core personality trait. The thought of giving herself over to someone, the thought of letting go of the reins and losing herself… that was scary. 

But she had a feeling it was worth it.

Jessie didn’t think her heart could pound any harder, but as soon as he laid her down on the bed, her pulse went into overdrive. She watched quietly as he stepped back to take his jeans off.

Put a hand involuntarily over her mouth as Jonny slid his boxer briefs down off his hips, revealing how hard he was.

How big he was. 

She’d forgotten. How could she have forgotten?

His movements were slow and confident. Not embarrassed, not hurried. He looked like he was about to sit down at a feast.

Well, she wasn’t about to let him sit down just yet.

As he stepped closer to her, presumably to lay down with her, she crawled up onto her knees to stop him.

For a second, Jonny’s heart stopped. Just for a second. Then it turned into a jackhammer.

Jessie flicked her eyes up at him — giving him a smoldering, determined look — before she reached out and took his cock in her hand.

He gasped, and she found it to be the most delicious sound.

“I didn’t get to do this last time,” she said.

“Jess, you don’t… you don’t have to—”

“Oh, I definitely want to, Jonny.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed out as she took a firm grip at the base of it, squeezing the smooth skin gently. She let her other hand slide lightly up the shaft of it, then brought it back down. Up again, down again, light as a feather, only slightly increasing the pace.

His exhale had her looking up at him, and she loved how flustered he looked.

Heart thundering, unsure of what to do with his hands, Jonny brought them both up, ran his fingers through his hair. Took some slow, deep breaths to try to temper the way his body was reacting to her.

He managed to bring his heart rate down a little bit, right as Jessie slipped the head of him between her lips, swirling her tongue around it once.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. She smiled around him. 

“Ohhh, my god, Jessie. This—”

She pulled more of him into her mouth, met her fist with her lips, swirled her tongue again on the way back up.

She took Jonny’s sharp intake of breath as a sign of approval, and did it again. Wetting the skin of his cock enough to pump it comfortably with her other hand, she worked him slowly with her hands and her mouth, and delighted when she felt one of his hands settle on the back of her head.

He was careful not to pull her too him too hard, but he couldn’t help but thrust lightly into her motions, thrilling in the slick of her mouth, the pressure from her hands, the—

“Jesus, Jess, you’ve got to—”

She took him a little deeper, careful not to go too far, then pulled back slowly, circling him with her tongue the whole way up.

A strangled sound ripped itself from Jonny and he moved his hand to her chin, gently pulled himself free of her lips and took a step back.

“You’re gonna have to cool your jets a little, Ace. I’m not trying to end this before we even get started.”

She shot him a pretend pout. He raised an eyebrow. “Jessie Bannon, pouting?”

He retracted those steps back that he’d taken, coming so close to her again that he could feel her breath on his erection. “Pouting,” he mused. “Topless, staring up at me.” He shook his head. “This was not on my bingo card for this trip.”

Her lips curved and a heady chuckle danced from them. “What was on your bingo card, then?”

He touched her chin with his index finger, and opened his mouth to quip right back at her, but closed it after a second. “Jesus, Jessie, you’ve scrambled my brain. I’ve lost my ability to banter.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes slid back to his cock, and she licked her lips.

His eyes went wide, and he tilted her chin up, so that she was looking directly at him. “Nope,” he said, as his thumb drifted toward her mouth. She parted her lips, let him slip his thumb between them, and sucked.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

And he crouched down, bringing himself face to face with her, so he could kiss her with devastating force, so that he could take his hand from her mouth and slide it up behind her back, tangle it in her hair.

His other hand went behind her waist as he rested a knee on the comforter, lifting her enough to scooch her farther up the bed and lay her head down on a pillow. Jonny leaned back on his knees, allowing himself to really take her in. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were bright and gleeful, and her breasts were full and just, out there. He sighed dramatically.

“You’re still wearing pants.”

She giggled. Good god, she giggled. It wasn’t shrill or silly, just a delicate, bubbling sound of delight. Marking a new favorite thing down in his mental book of favorite things, he leaned down and kissed her again. Then he trailed kisses down her throat, enjoying the feel of her pulse, the way her chest rose when his fingers grazed her left nipple. His hand continued its way down her stomach, and her chest began to rise and fall more quickly, her breaths coming out in a flurry, filling his mind with a haze of euphoria.

His long fingers disappeared beneath the waistband of her pajamas, past the lace of her underwear, and slid gently across the hot skin beneath, careful not to dive in too quickly.

“Oh, you’re wet , Sweetheart.”

The gasp that flew from her as he traced his middle finger along her silky folds, as he pressed a whisper of pressure to her apex with his palm… it was all intoxicating. He wouldn’t have been able to call up a single scenario other than the one he was in, had he been asked. This fiery woman, panting at his touch, meeting his eyes with a frantic need, she was all he could remember ever wanting.

Food? Sleep? Water? He was pretty sure he could survive without those things.

But the “Oh my god, Jonny,” that he heard as he dipped his middle finger inside her, the way she lifted her hips up to push him farther in… that was sustenance. That was life.

He leaned in and kissed her. “Do you like that?” he asked against her lips.

She nodded. “Mmhmm.”

Slowly, he moved his finger in and out of her, curving it a little upwards, to drag it along her upper wall, making contact with the spot inside her that had her toes curling and her chest rising and falling with increasing speed.

When her whimpers reached a certain tenor, he slowed down gradually, easing her into the idea that he was going to have to have his finger back. At least temporarily. 

When he pulled from her, he kissed her again, before her groan of disappointment had a chance to escape.

Jessie only had a moment to feel disappointed, however, because when she realized what was happening — as she watched him rise up above her so that he could slide her pants down over her thighs, past her ankles, and toss them over his shoulder — her dismay melted into a wave of excitement.

He placed his hands on her ankles and spread them apart, sliding them across the cool comforter until they were wide enough for him to fit between, lying casually down on his stomach. He gazed up at her with a raised eyebrow — like he was ready to cause mischief.

It was a glorious view. He could see her face, see her wild eyes; she looked happy, like she was enjoying herself. But she also looked nervous . He could see her breasts, rising and falling with her breath. Her nipples were tight and hard, and he found himself absurdly wishing he had more hands.

Before settling between her thighs, he reached up and took her hand in his, pulling it toward her right breast. He coaxed her hand around it and lightly pinched the firm nipple, drawing another tiny, delicious gasp from her. “You mind helping me out with that?” He asked.

She nodded, and rolled her nipple between her fingers, letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment as he let his hand slide down her torso, stopping just above the soft patch of hair between her legs, and flattening on her abdomen.

She remembered that pressure, that small bit of restriction, remembered that it meant he needed her to stay still enough for him to—

His index finger found her again, delicately tracing around her entrance before dipping in quickly. When it came out again, warm and wet, he brought it to her clit and applied a whisper of pressure.

Jessie’s breath sucked in loudly, and Jonny looked up at her with a smug, satisfied look.

He started drawing slow circles over the sensitive bud, pressing down gently with increasing pressure, his hand still pinning her carefully to the comforter.

Jonny was proud of himself for showing such restraint — it was all he could do to keep from burying his face between her legs, lapping her up, devouring her. His face was mere inches away from her, tempting him to just go for it.

But for this, he could be patient.

The small circles got faster, matching the pace of her breaths, and Jessie could have sworn there were fireworks going off in her head. A hot tension was building, and she could feel the faint, twinkling promise of release crystalizing in her body.

She tried to take a slow, deep breath. She was getting ahead of herself.

Jonny, of course, noticed the deep breath — he felt his left hand slowly raise with her stomach, and he looked up to see her eyes open. She had her concentration face on.

He slowed the speed of his strokes, lessened the pressure, and delighted in the sound of impatience that came from Jessie.

After a few more circles, he slid his finger back down to her entrance, and added one more before slipping inside her.

“ Jonny ,” she whispered.

He let her get used to that for a minute, savoring the sounds she made while he moved his fingers in and out of her smoothly and slowly, while she squirmed under his hand.

He could feel her hips canting, could tell she was longing for friction, and decided there was no reason she couldn’t have it.

His fingers still pumping, he leaned forward, taking her clit lightly between his lips, sucking on it briefly before darting his tongue forward to taste it.

Jessie felt like she’d been struck by lightning.

When was the last time she’d felt this good? Had it been with Jonny? Had it been this same tongue that made her last feel like she was going to float off into space?

His rhythm was consistent, the pressure just enough to have her hips moving into him, hoping for more.

Jonny was practically aching now with want, and he decided to finally just give into it. He slid his hand off her abdomen and brought it down to his erection, giving it a good squeeze for a couple of seconds before lightly sliding it up and down the length of it.

Somehow, through the haze of sensation, Jessie noticed it.

“Jonny, Jonny, let me—”

He pushed in a third finger and slid his tongue quickly over her clit, effectively turning her brain to static. Over and over he licked, relentlessly moving his fingers in and out, matching his pace to her racing breaths, and she raced closer to the edge of the cliff.

But then his tongue slowed, and his fingers slid from her, dragging lightly along her walls, ripping a breathy, frustrated moan from her throat.

She looked down at him, and he looked up at her, a devilish smile on his face.

“I’ve been thinking about that for a long time.”

Overwhelmed, she let her head drop back on the pillow. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Yeah, me, too.”

Jonny licked his lips, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making zero attempt to be discreet about it. She had to admit that she was startled by his brazenness, by his open attitude toward pleasuring her.

The last thing she wanted to do was think about men from her past, but she couldn’t help comparing experiences. She was used to a certain formality when it came to sex. It was usually a very… serious affair.

But this was different — it was refreshing. Jonny seemed to be delighted by her body, and she barely knew what to do with that.

He propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her thoughtfully, absentmindedly stroking her clit with a gentle lack of urgency, effectively keeping her in the moment without pushing her too far gone.

“You know what else I’ve thought about?”

She shook her head.

Before Jessie had a chance to lament the fact that his finger wasn’t on her clit anymore, Jonny was hovering above her, his cock pressing against her slick warmth as he leaned in to kiss her deeply. She was worried about kissing him after he’d been, well . But it was a non-issue. She could taste herself, yes, but there was something erotic about it, and she sunk into the kiss, pressing her breasts up against his chest, lifting her hips desperately into his.

Jonny broke their kiss, sucked in a breath.

“Ever since that night in the shower, that view is burned into my brain, Jess. Your ass, your hair down your back.” He swallowed, pressed against her. “My hands on your hips. Jesus.”

“I, ah. Oh gosh,” was all Jessie could manage to conjure up from her brain, and it made the most beautiful laugh tumble out of him.

“I’m dying to flip you over, Ace, but I’m not gonna do that just yet.” He leaned in closer, his lips whispering over hers. “Because I want to see your face.”

She could feel her eyes widen, and he smiled at that, right before the head of his cock parted her, and pushed forward with a delicious deliberateness.

There was no resistance when he slid into her — she was more than ready. And he could tell, because he didn’t tease her. Jonny thrust himself slowly in as far as he could, sheathing himself to the hilt, and it took her breath away.

The sensations were all so overwhelming; the shocking fullness she felt, how deep he’d buried himself, the way her nipples pressed against his chest. She opened her mouth to say something — his name, some kind of positive exclamation, anything — but the only thing that came out was a contented sigh, and he took that as a sound of encouragement. His cock slid almost all the way out of her before he pressed it fully back in, connecting his body to hers, making enough contact with her clit to have her arching into him.

He kept that rhythm long enough for her to lose herself, long enough for her to find a rhythm with him. 

And then he was slowing down, finally sliding himself out of her. The emptiness was unfair.

“Oh my god, Jonny, you’re going to kill me.”

He smirked and placed his hands on her hips, raised an eyebrow before hoisting her over, flipping her onto her stomach. An “Oh!” of surprise slipped from her lips. Followed by a much more languid, anticipatory “Ohhh.”

Jonny’s blood was pure, concentrated energy. He ran his hands up Jessie’s back, just to touch as much of her skin as possible. His hands came back down and greedily gripped her ass, giving it a good, firm squeeze. Jessie let out a deep sound of approval.

Jonny took a split second to consider the woman in front of him — sifting through his mental file of Things He Knew about her, trying to decide how she would react if he…

What the hell, he thought, and gave the right cheek a firm slap.

Jessie gasped, and she felt his left hand grip her hip.

“Oh, uh, was that… was that not—”

She turned to look at him, disarmed by the sight of his body behind her, thrilling at the pleasant sting of the slap, and she sent him just a hint of a smile.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d like that or not,” she said carefully. “No one’s ever…”

The look of worry on Jonny’s face relaxed away. “And?”

“And I think I might need some more convincing.”

The sound of his hand on her skin seemed so loud , but it wasn’t really painful. Not in a bad way, anyway. Besides, she barely had time to think about it.

The sound she’d made when he spanked her the second time was pretty clear: she liked it. And he could barely handle knowing it. And before he could think anything else, he was inside her again. He gave her a few slow, deep strokes before picking up speed, thrust after thrust pulling sinful whimpers from her lips.

When she felt his hand press gently on her back, nudging her upper body down to the bed, she thrilled again. He kept her hips raised, however, as he slid in and out of her, the new position leaving her more open and vulnerable than she’d ever been.

This… dominance was new, and she couldn’t deny how excited it made her feel, how it made her heart race.

When he finally reached in front of her to rub two fingers on her clit, she saw stars.

The motion matched his pace, and his fingers were slick from her, making the friction as decadent as… as, well, something decadent. Jesus. She could feel her brain melting — thoughts were swirling around like a flock of birds, and she couldn’t seem to grasp a single thought.

Jonny could feel her tightening around him, feel the flutter of her as she moaned below him, and he knew he had to cool it. With some petulance, he forced himself to slow down, let his hands run over her skin again, enjoying the sweaty sheen he’d caused, luxuriating in her softness. He pulled out again, much to Jessie’s annoyance.

“Jonny,” she panted. “I swear to god, just—”

He’d taken a small break with his fingers, but he resumed the small circles then, as he rolled her once again, this time to her back. Her eyes were closed, and she had pinned her bottom lip with her teeth. He dipped his fingers briefly back into her, getting them wet, and came back to the tight, sensitive bud, working her up again, while giving himself a quick break.

Watching her was incredible — her hips lightly bucking, her fingers squeezing the tip of her left breast. He shifted his weight so that he could take care of the other one without breaking the rhythm of his fingers, and simply let himself bask in the moment. It felt like he was getting away with something. Like it was a dream and he’d surely wake up at any moment. 

There was a tiny voice in the back of Jessie’s head that said she should be taking care of him , that she shouldn’t be allowed to just lie there while he made her feel so perfect… but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to it, and that was certainly a first. She could feel her breaths become more ragged, heard them transform from breathing to panting , and she knew it wouldn’t take much more of this before she dove straight over the edge .

“Jonny,” she panted. “Jonny, please, I—”

He’d been able to hear it in her voice, had been paying attention to the way her hips moved, the way her whimpers got just barely higher in pitch, and he’d already made up his mind before she’d even said anything, but it was good to know they were both on the same wavelength.

He was above her again in an instant, and he met her eyes briefly before he leaned in for a savage kiss, dragging her bottom lip in his teeth, reaching a strong hand behind her neck to pull her to him.

And he plunged inside her, stealing her breath, pressing himself to her clit each time his hips met hers. And she clung to him, crying out much louder than she’d intended, as he rode her, as she felt him getting closer to finishing, as she felt the tension build, as she felt the warmth spread at her core.

They moved together, breathing, moaning, skin sticking and slapping and sliding in ways Jessie knew she’d feel self conscious about later.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe that was the old Jessie. Maybe— 

When her orgasm coursed through her, it practically shattered her. Her vision blurred, time slowed. Jonny was only a split second behind, and as he spilled himself into her, her name was on his lips, mixed in raggedly with his cry of release. She pulsed around him as he shuddered, her fingers digging into his back, his hand tangled in her hair. As the waves of sensation receded, he pulled her tightly to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Jonny listened to her breaths, pressed his lips to her skin, enjoyed feeling her naked body under his, though he was careful not to crush her.

After a few minutes that way, he sighed in contentment, kissed her neck tenderly one more time, and rolled off of her.

He took a moment to grin. The woman had the languid, disheveled look of someone who’d been good and properly fucked, and he liked that.

She mumbled something. He leaned in.

“Huh?”

“What are you smiling at?”

He chuckled, tapped her on the nose with his finger, then trailed it down her chin, down her neck, between her breasts, and landed playfully at her belly button. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Jessie. And I like seeing you wrecked, knowing I did the wrecking.”

He didn’t think he’d be able to see her blush with how pink her cheeks already were, but she surprised him, yet again.

“Oh my god, Jonny.”

“You know, you say that a lot. I thought you had a more extensive vocabulary than that.”

She hit him with her pillow. 

He laughed, kissed her forehead, and got up off the bed, snatching a towel off a wall hook and handing it to her before settling back down next to her.

She sighed. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“Good.”

“You feel nice.”

“Not like jelly?”

She snuggled into the crook of his arm. “No, definitely not like jelly. You’re like… like a comfy couch… that’s very angular.”

He huffed out a lazy laugh. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” she mumbled sleepily into his chest.

He watched her, took stock of her, listening to each quiet breath.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet.”

Her green eyes opened and looked up at him, waiting. 

“Was I, ah. Was that…?”

“Hmm?”

“Was that… too much? Like, too…”

“Aggressive?”

He blushed, which she found to be acutely adorable. “Ah, yeah. I got a little carried away, I think.”

She shook her head. “No, Jonny.” Now she blushed. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” His lips curved.

“Yeah.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I didn’t want to, I don’t know, scare you off or something.”

As much as she didn’t want to move, she pushed herself up a little, leveling her gaze at him. “Jonny. I trust you, okay?”

He swallowed. Nodded. His throat felt tight.

“I know it hasn’t felt that way, and I guess that’s fair because I really… didn’t. But I do now. I trust that you care for me, and that you don’t want to hurt me.” She leaned in and touched her lips to his. “That kind of trust makes everything a lot more… fun. You know?”

He smiled and nodded again. Kissed her on the forehead. 

He reached a long arm to grab one of the blankets that had been kicked out of the way, and pulled it over the both of them.

Somewhere between their murmurs and lazy kisses, they fell into an almost dreamless sleep.

Almost. 

Chapter Text

Jessie would love to be able to say that she woke up delicately little-spooned to Jonny, his wide chest pressed against her back, his face nuzzled into her neck —  perfectly nestled together in post-coital bliss after the culmination of years of yearning. 

Reality, of course , was far less idyllic.

When her eyes fluttered open, she was sprawled across three quarters of the bed, her right leg draped over Jonny’s hips, her left foot dangling off the side. She looked over at Jonny, who was still asleep on his side, mouth hanging slightly open, hair in every direction.

His arm was stretched out, though, and his hand was resting comfortably on her right breast. Like it lived there. Like a puppy on its favorite blanket, like a soldier home from the war.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop being weird, you weirdo, she thought.

She lifted her head up to look around the room, and couldn’t help but smile. Their clothes were everywhere, the towel he’d thrown her last night was trapped under her legs, and she could feel that her hair was an insane mess. And she didn’t feel guilty about it. She didn’t feel bad at all.

She felt better than she had in… well, long enough that she couldn’t even remember.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to force herself back to sleep. She tried breathing slowly in through her nose, slowly out through her mouth. Four counts in, hold for four, four counts out, hold for four. She’d read somewhere that it lowered your heart rate and helped distract your brain enough to let you fall back to sleep.

A low, breathy chuckle from the giant body next to her disturbed her efforts. “Maybe you should say ‘om’ or something.”

“I’m not meditating, I’m trying to go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” Jonny mumbled. “Sleep is overrated.” He gave her breast a gentle squeeze, and she let out a squeak as his hand slid across her stomach and curved under her waist, pulling her into him. Into the perfect little-spoon position she’d been hoping for.

He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply.

“God, you smell good, Jess.”

“I smell like your shampoo.”

His lips pressed to her neck, and she could feel his smile. “Mmhmm.”

She smiled, too. She couldn’t help it. “Narcissist.”

“I prefer Adonis , but I’ll take whatever Greek god title you want to assign me.”

She sighed dramatically. “It’s Narcissus. And neither of those dudes were gods. They were both mortals, and they both died.”

Jonny released the tight hold he had on her and propped himself up on his arm, letting her settle onto her back. He rested his free hand on her stomach. “Which one fell in love with a goddess?” He swallowed, locked his suddenly very intense blue eyes on hers. “Because I’m that one.”

“Well, that’s Adonis, but he actually fell in love with two …” 

Her brain finally caught up to her ears. “Fell in—” 

“Love.”

She nodded, slowly. Her instincts had her wanting to look away, but she didn’t. “Love.”

The silence that followed wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it was certainly palpable.

Jonny swallowed again. “You don’t have to say anything back. You can just know.”

She gave him another slow nod, and opened her mouth to say — what?

I love you, too?

You’re just saying that to make me feel good?

You’re just blinded by hormones?

I love you, too?

Before she could find the right words, any words, the responsibility was removed from her shoulders. By her stomach.

The growling sound that unleashed itself was legendary, embarrassing enough that both her and Jonny’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked down at his hand, spread lazily over her abdomen.

“Sweetheart, you need food. ”

She felt her cheeks go hot at the new nickname.

“Nah.” She tried snuggling closer to him. “I’m fine .”

Another absurdly loud rumble. Jonny raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Damnit. Yeah, I’m hungry. But I wanted to… I thought we would…” Jessie fidgeted with the corner of her pillow, daring herself to finish the sentence. She chanced another glance at him, and thrilled at the devilish look on his face.

“You thought we would, huh?”

She let herself smile. She shouldn’t be surprised by how comfortable she felt around him, but she continued to marvel at how much he felt like home. “I did. I would… definitely like to do more of that.”

Jonny leaned in and nipped at her bottom lip. “I couldn’t agree more.” He kissed her on the forehead. “That’s why you should go downstairs and eat right now. Because you’re starving, and we have so much more of that ahead of us.”

And she did.

She wrenched herself from the tangled sheets, washed her body off briefly in the shower, and forced herself to head downstairs. She did her best to nonchalantly breeze into the kitchen and pour herself a cup of coffee. 

Jessie’s eyes flicked from face to face. Everyone was in the kitchen eating breakfast, and it felt normal , but she couldn’t help but feel like they all knew . She could feel how pink her cheeks were, and briefly considered running outside to try to find a protein bar in the Jeep or something.

Before she could escape, though, Race called out, “Mornin’ Ponchita! How’d you sleep?”

She studied her dad’s face. Was he messing with her? She didn’t think so. 

Dr. Quest sent her a tired smile, and Angelica simply made eye contact and nodded.

Hadji , however, almost choked on his tea.

She sighed. Three out of four ain’t bad, she thought.

“I slept great, Dad. Ready to face the day.”

“Glad to hear it, kiddo.” He shoved a slice of bacon into his mouth, but it didn’t stop him from talking. “I think our plan is to head into town, do some asking around about this LeBlanc fella. We’ll head back to the museum and hit the books knowing exactly who we’re looking for.”

Dr. Quest took a sip of his coffee, made a note in the journal sitting on the counter in front of him, and let his pen settle within the pages. 

“Is Jonny still asleep?”

“Ah,” Jessie fumbled for something convincing. “I think so? I could… hear him snoring when I got out of the shower. 

Hadji raised an unconvinced eyebrow. Jonny slept hard, but he didn’t snore. She sent him a look that said Don’t be a traitor, just go with it!

Benton nodded. “Well, he shouldn’t sleep too much longer. We’re running out of time here, and we need to maximize our efforts.”

Jessie took another sip of coffee. It was the only thing she could think to do. Benton wasn’t wrong — Angelica’s time here was short, and their goals were starting to diverge in relevance. Jessie wanted to find some kind of justice for Eleanora, wanted to find a way to get her name in the history records, make it so her time on earth wasn’t in vain. 

But she knew Angelica had different plans.

She didn’t care about Eleanora. Not really.

She just wanted Sam back.

Jessie watched the woman drink her coffee, wondered what was going on in her mind as she stared out the window.

--

Jonny ran his paddle brush through his hair and examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked… good. Relaxed, happy. Excited for what comes next. 

He felt better than he had in a long time.

He went through his skincare routine. Nothing crazy — cleanser, sunscreen, moisturizer. He wasn’t a terribly predictable guy in most respects, but he’d found a few routines over the years that helped him feel grounded. He had to admit it felt good to stick to his structure, especially when the world around him danced and sparkled and acted unpredictably.

He headed back into the bedroom, chuckling at the scene in front of him. Pajamas, a blanket, slippers — they were tossed around the room. Jessie’s pajama shorts were actually dangling from the closet door knob. He took a few moments to tidy things up, then picked out some clothes for the day. 

“Can’t beat old reliable,” he said out loud as he pulled another black henley over his head. He found his jeans, slid them up over his hips, and felt the breath catch in his chest when icy cold fingers clawed around his throat. 

His vision clouded, but it wasn’t in his head. It felt like he was literally surrounded by fog, trapped in a swirling, murky mass of thick air, heightened emotions, set off by a pair of bright, piercing eyes.

He reached up instinctively, desperate to wrench the hands off of his neck, but he couldn’t get his fingers on anything. The more he stared into the bright eyes, the more he could see of the face that held them.

It was Eleanora, but she was barely there. He could make out her outline, could feel her hands around his throat, could see one of those hands rise up to his forehead.

He felt her thumb press to the space between his eyebrows, the patch of skin that had been bothering him for days.

But this time, he felt more .

He felt something leaving his body — energy? Strength? Whatever it was was leaving him weak. He felt his knees wobble, panicked as waves of dizziness overtook him.

The more he felt himself dissipating, the more he felt Eleanora.

She was taking on weight, becoming more substantial, and she was using it against him. She pushed him back toward the bed, where he helplessly fell once the backs of his knees hit the mattress.

Eleanora let him fall, released her grip on his throat, and crawled up on top of him. She straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, and she leaned in close.

Internally, Jonny was screaming. He wanted to pummel her, knew he should simply be able to bat her off of him like a cat with a coffee cup.

But he just… couldn’t. He was nothing. He couldn’t even lift one of his fingers. Couldn’t force a whimper past his lips. She didn’t even need to pin him down — there was no way he could have moved, let alone escape.

Jonny had opened plenty of tombs in his lifetime, and they all had that same cold, musty smell. The scent of centuries passing was something you never forget, and that’s exactly what Eleanora’s breath made him think of; cobwebs and death and being forgotten.

Her lips curled into a cruel smile, and she removed her thumb from his forehead.

I’d forgotten what life felt like, she whispered in his ear. And you’ve got so much.

He felt her body rise off of his, but he couldn’t lift his head to watch her. Her voice felt like it was coming straight from inside his skull. It reverberated, it hurt.

This is for the best. This is how I get you all to leave us both alone. 

A surge of panic raced through Jonny. Us both.

Jessie.

Adrenaline spiked through him, giving him breath and a shred of strength. “Jessie doesn’t want this,” he whispered.

It’s laughable. To think that you have any idea what Jessie wants. Eleanora came back to the bed and sat next to Jonny’s head, so that he could see her directly above him. I thought I was tired of being alone, but I would rather be alone than have myself stolen. Than to feel my very self be erased. All for the sake of a man.

She reached down, slid her fingers through the hair near his forehead. I know Jessie won’t stay with me. She nodded quickly, as though reminding herself of the facts. But I understand that. I understand that as much I understand that you can’t be trusted with her heart.

Her gentle fingers tensed then, and she twisted them in his blonde locks, trapping them in a searing grip. She pulled . Yanked at the hair, forced a strangled cry through his lips.

I should thank you for all the energy you’ve given me these recent weeks. It’s not easy to make things happen when the sun is up, but with an infusion of life each night, the possibilities are really quite endless.

She tapped her finger firmly at the spot between his eyebrows, like she was thumping a watermelon, trying to discern whether or not it was ripe. He closed his eyes, pressed them desperately shut.

It’s surprisingly easy to slip into your dreams, Jonny. You’re so full of life and energy, so… stupid and open. It was simple to siphon out a little each night.

She leaned back over him, and to his surprise, he felt his chest squeeze in a way it hadn’t in years. 

He was scared. Terrified. 

And after last night? Well. I certainly don’t approve, but I’m grateful for the final surge. It’s exactly what I needed.  

Tears built behind his eyes, and he wanted to beg. He wanted to beg for his life, for Jessie’s, for his family’s. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the breath.

As Eleanora’s frigid lips closed over his, he couldn’t stop himself from gagging. Bile threatened to overtake him as she dispelled her ancient, rotten breath into his lungs. His nose and mouth were filled with the scent and taste of mildew, of moss that had grown and died and rotted back into the earth.

If he’d had the strength, his body would have bucked with resistance, with a desperate need to breathe air that had seen daylight. But since he had none, he was forced to lie there, to let it happen, to choke on his horror as Eleanora’s spirit emptied itself into him. 

—-

When Jessie heard Jonny’s footsteps on the stairs, a swell of joy spread violently through her whole body. She hadn’t realized how much she was anticipating his presence, and the volume of it filled her head with static.

What would he do? Would he play it cool? Should she play it cool? 

No one, not even her father, would take issue with them being together. They’d been the splinter in the flesh of their family for years, forcing everyone to dance around their quiet feud. They’d made holidays uncomfortable and sad, forced Hadji to play the middle man. 

All anyone wanted was for them to figure their shit out. 

And it certainly wasn’t all figured out, but they’d started working on it, and the only way they could see if it would work was to actually try to make it work.

And that’s hard to do when you’re hiding it.

She was ready to be done hiding, but was he?

When Jonny’s form filled the doorway, her heart swelled. His eyes found hers, and he sent her a brilliant smile.

Jessie felt her pulse ramp into overdrive, felt her chest sparkle like it was a bottle of champagne he’d cracked open. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as he made a beeline across the room toward her.

Before anyone could get out so much as a “good morning,” he was standing in front of her, with his hands gently cupping her cheeks. He planted a kiss on her forehead, then lightly on her lips. For the second time that morning, she heard someone choking on their caffeinated beverage, but this time, she was pretty sure it was her dad.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.”

“Ah,” she could feel the blush erupting over her, starting under her neckline and making its way straight to the top of her head. Gorgeous, that was a little… dramatic. But, god help her, she giggled. She was sick of everything being blurry and uncertain, after all. “Good morning, Jonny.”

They stared at each other, grinning.

Race could only handle a few seconds of that. “Well,” he drawled. “That’s new.”

Jonny laughed. “Actually, Race, it’s been in the works for a long time.”

Race scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

Dr. Quest cleared his throat and said something about Lawr and Jenna and the others showing up soon. But Jessie couldn’t focus. How could she, with Jonny leaning into her, his arm behind her, his hand resting possessively on her hip?

It was a lot . It was more than she’d expected.

She almost jumped a foot when he whispered in her ear, “Mmm. You smell good.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, but raised an eyebrow at him. “You already—”

“Is that… bergamot?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s your—”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his voice and breath vibrating like electricity against the shell of her ear. “I like it.”

She playfully punched him in the arm and whispered, “Alright, Romeo. You’re going to give my dad a stroke.”

He chuckled quietly and gave her hip a squeeze before kissing her lightly on the forehead again. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Jonny made his way to the counter across the room, grabbed a mug off a hook on the wall, and filled it with coffee. He took a slow drink of the dark liquid, smiling at Jessie the whole time.

She shook her head briefly — the head she needed to get back in the game. “How close did Lawr say they were?” She asked Benton. 

“They left Monzie castle in Scotland quite a while ago, and aren’t more than 10 minutes out,” he replied, quite deliberately.

Angelica’s reaction was subtle enough that no one but Benton noticed it at the time. When she looked back on the scene, Jessie would recall the spoon clattering to the saucer in Angelica’s hands, but she was too preoccupied for it to register.

Something was niggling in the back of Jessie’s mind. She felt so happy she thought her chest might burst — this was her favorite version of Jonny. The one she’d known the longest. Optimistic, protective, and always on the lookout for a good time. And if she was being honest? A total shithead. And here he was, shooting her suggestive looks and telling her… telling her she smells good. In front of everyone, no less.

And that in and of itself felt like a miracle. No one had anything negative to say; no one was scolding her or making her feel uncomfortable. They seemed to simply be happy for them, as far as she could tell.

A heavy knock sounded at the main door of Birch House.

Benton left the kitchen without a sound, and as soon as his broad shoulders brushed through the doorway, Race was up from his chair, sauntering quickly over to Jonny. 

“Now, I’ve known you a long time, kiddo.” Jessie’s dad leaned in close, and he picked an imaginary piece of lint off Jonny’s shirt. “Known you long enough to consider you a son I never had.” He rested his hands firmly on Jonny’s shoulders, gave them a good squeeze. “But I will not hesitate to knock your grown-ass lights out if you end up giving me a reason to.”

The two men stared at each other for a few excruciating seconds before Race barked out a laugh. “I’ll be damned, Jonny, I didn’t mean to actually scare ya.” He sent him a good-natured smile and ruffled his hair. “Just don’t be a dick to my girl, got it?”

Jonny’s breath whooshed out in a gust of relief.

So did Hadji’s. “Race,” he whimpered dramatically. “I don’t think you have any idea just how scary you can be.” 

Race laughed again, and Jessie did her best to join in, but the niggling in her brain was getting louder. Something wasn’t adding up, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Like there was a word hanging on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t quite grasp it. 

“What the hell’s going on in here?” Duke’s drawl broke into the kitchen. “Looks like y’all just saw a ghost.” He’d pulled Tina in close to him in the doorway, as though he were protecting her from whatever they’d strolled into. 

Hadji laughed weakly. “No ghost, but I was definitely worried we were going to have to organize a funeral.” At the vision of his wife wiggling her fingers at him in a tentative greeting, his eyes brightened, and he crossed the room to meet Jenna in a rough hug.

Jessie chewed on her bottom lip a little too hard — a nervous habit — but she appreciated the sting of pain that helped ground her. She was still happy about Jonny, of course, but that glow was blurring into something else. Everything was a jumble; the kitchen wasn’t meant for this many people. She took a slow breath. 

Dr. Quest was acting strange — it felt like all his words were rehearsed, and he wasn’t really paying attention to the conversations happening around him. He had to have something planned, something important, and she wanted in on it. 

Before she could steer the conversation back to business, two strong hands were cupping her face, and her senses were flooded with the familiar scent of vanilla and spice. A set of dark, concerned eyes filled her vision and she felt herself go weak in the knees at the sudden surge of relief.

“Jessie?”

“Lawr!”

“Ben said you got possessed again.” His eyes wandered over her face, like he was searching for scrapes and bruises. “You okay?”

She nodded, struck with a surge of emotion over his concern. She hadn’t quite realized how much she’d missed his reassuring presence, how much she’d needed some uncomplicated comfort. “I’m okay. But… I don’t know. I don’t know. Something’s not right.” 

“I’ll say.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze and turned to the room. “Something is very fucking wrong here.”

Jonny’s eyes widened. “Wha - what do you mean?”

“If I know anything, it’s vibes, and hon these vibes are off. ”

After a beat, Dr. Quest looked around the room. “Where is Angelica?”

Jessie focused on her surroundings — so many people, but not quite enough.

The woman was gone. Her cup and saucer were resting on the counter, abandoned.

Lawr is right, Jessie thought. Something is very fucking wrong here.

She could feel the niggling reach a fever pitch in the back of her mind, and clarity was threatening to break though. 

Her eyes slid from Angelica’s cup to Jonny’s mug, which he’d drained and deposited on the counter.

She silently slid past Lawr and made her way to the counter, where Jonny stared at her with nervous curiosity, eyebrow raised. She lifted up his mug and peered into it, focusing on the few drops of liquid in the bottom.

“Black,” she murmured. 

She took a step closer to him, meeting his eyes, looking for something. “It’s just plain black coffee.”

“Can’t a guy appreciate a good cup of dark roast?”

The sound of his voice was confident, but the look in his eyes wasn’t. She saw worry there, confusion.

For a split second, she felt a change, could have sworn his eyes shimmered as he whispered, “Sweetheart.”

She sucked in her breath. “What?”

“Help me, Ace.” 

And as quickly as she’d found him, she lost him again. His eyes regained that carefree look, and his smirk returned. “Just can’t stay away, huh?”

His words and tone were supposed to be playful, but all they managed to do was form a ball of ice in her gut. She was frozen, unable to move or speak as realization seeped into her brain.

But it didn’t matter. 

Because Jessie felt the hairs stand up on her arms, felt the surge in electricity as the lights in the kitchen flared high, then abruptly dropped to a dim glow.

The humming was unmistakable.

“Oh, no,” Benton murmured.

Race’s instincts immediately kicked in, and he took a step toward his old friend. “Doc? What’s—” 

The scream that wrenched itself from Jonny’s lips was like nothing Jessie had ever heard. She’d seen him through plenty of injuries — broken arms, sliced fingers, even appendicitis — but this was different. This was the sound of excruciating physical pain, but it was more than that. It was the guttural, wrecked keening of unfettered anguish, and the sound of it echoing in her brain made her physically ill, made her stomach churn.

He sounded like an animal, wounded and desperate.

“Jonny!” Whatever control over the situation Benton thought he’d had was long gone, concern for his son overtaking the plan he’d put in place. He rushed to Jonny, who had dropped to his knees and was clutching his head, fingers digging into his hair, clawing his scalp. He crouched down to get to his level, and wrapped his fingers gently around Jonny’s wrist.  “Jonny, Son, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

In answer, Jonny roared at his father. He let go of his head long enough to shove him with both hands before replacing them in his disheveled, sweaty hair.

Benton fell heavily to the tile floor, his cane clattering away from him.

Lawrence gasped. “Ben!”

As Jessie watched Lawr run to help, her heart split another time at the look on Dr. Quest’s face. She knew what was going through his head, knew that the seed of fear Rachel’s death had planted was sprouting violently.

Jonny’s screams were weakening, and melting into breathy sobs. 

Did he know what he’d done? Had he just watched his own hands shove his father to the ground?

She approached him slowly and crouched down next to him. 

“Jonny?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out to him tentatively, touching her hand to his back, which heaved frantically between sobs.

“It hurts , Jessie.” The words pushed their way through his gritted teeth, and his wild eyes begged hers to understand what he was feeling.

“Your head?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “My head hurts. And it hurts… to be forgotten. ” He lifted his head, locked his shining eyes on hers. “It hurts to be tossed to the wayside, as though…” He took a ragged breath, squeezed his eyes shut like he was weathering through a fresh bout of pain. “As though you never mattered.”

“You matter to me,” she said. “And you mattered to him, too. But he was a coward.”

The eyes she was staring into were still that cool, familiar ice blue; she’d known those eyes for most of her life. And as she examined them, as tears streamed down his cheeks, she knew there was more than just Jonny in them.

And Eleanora knew she knew. 

The lights surged once more.

The humming intensified.

Jonny screamed again.

Jessie looked around her in horror as everyone in the kitchen fell to the floor. They made no gasp or cry as their eyes rolled back into their heads, but the sounds of their bodies smacking onto the tile, of chairs knocking, of dishes shattering — it was a brief cacophony, straight out of a nightmare.

She waited a few beats for them to wake up, to groan or move, but it never happened. They were out cold, and an icy fear began to creep up her spine as she realized she didn’t have time to check if they were breathing.

She turned slowly back to Jonny, who was visibly shaking, with wild, unfocused eyes. She didn’t want to leave him, but at that point, it was clear he was no longer at the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” Jessie whispered, before bolting for the hallway with her sights set on the front door of Birch House.

She made it about four steps.

His arms wrapped around her waist — forcefully enough to knock the wind out of her — and he lifted her into the air with unnatural ease. Unceremoniously, he threw her over his shoulder and reversed course.

She could hear his labored breathing, a pained whimper punctuating each exhale, but he didn’t let up, and he certainly didn’t let go.

In the kitchen, shock and realization had pushed her brain into a strange sense of calm, but when she finally understood what was happening, where he was taking her, panic settled back in.

As he wrenched open the basement door, she finally started screaming, started kicking and clawing and begging him to let her go.

But he didn’t listen.

He slammed the door shut behind them, clicking the lock in place. And when the crack of sunlight below the door disappeared as they descended, she wondered if he could even hear her at all.