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#dr schneeplestein


Part Twenty-Six of the PW Timeline
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a complete series I wrote from July 2019 to July of 2022. Chase, Marvin, and the others are finally ready to rescue JJ and Schneep from Anti once and for all. They set up a plan, figure out where they’re being held for sure, and spring into action. But of course, Anti’s not just going to sit by.]
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The fateful day dawned cold, with a lid of gray clouds stretched over the sky. As soon as visiting hours at the hospital opened up, Chase drove around, picking up the others, and they all went over to talk to Jackie and Jack in person. Jackie was still uneasy about the idea of direct confrontation, but he agreed that their plan was probably their best shot. He and Jack gave their own suggestions, and the group quickly disbanded. They didn’t want to risk a doctor walking in and hearing what they were talking about.

From there, the group headed back to the apartment building. Chase gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove down the streets, eyes constantly glancing around, lingering on the spaces where someone might hide. For some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Anti was watching them, even though there was no reason he would.

When they were about half a block away from the apartment building, Chase momentarily pulled to the side of the road, letting Laurens and Marvin climb out. “Okay, good luck,” he whispered. “Remember, he has to be out before—”

“We got it, Chase, don’t worry.” Marvin flashed a smile. He certainly seemed confident, which was more than could be said for Laurens, who looked more like she was jumping into the tiger exhibit at the zoo.

“Alright.” Chase let out a long breath. He turned around to face Mina, sitting in the passenger seat next to him. “You can still go with them, you know. O-or go back.”

Mina shook her head. “I know my part in this is not so big, but I need to be here.”

Chase nodded silently, understanding.

“We’ll meet you later,” Marvin said. “Good luck on your part.” Then he closed the car door, and he and Laurens headed off.

Chase pulled back onto the streets, slowly approaching the apartment building. Now here came one of the uncertain points in their plan. They needed to find the window for Room 309. Apparently it had brown shutters, but that wasn’t too descriptive. There was a chance there could be more than one window that fit that description.

As Chase drove past the building, Mina scanned the windows for brown shutters. She shook her head. “None of the ones in front have shutters, only curtains,” she said. Chase nodded, and turned at the next street corner, circling around the block so they could look at the back of the building.

The street behind the building was small, barely one lane. If they wanted to park here, they would completely block the road. Luckily, it didn’t seem like people came down here that often. The only sign that anyone had ever been here were piles of trash bags next to the occasional dumpster.

“Wait.” Mina tapped Chase’s arm. “I see one. Brown shutters on the third floor, yes?”

“Yeah,” Chase said.

“Right. Look up there.” Mina pointed, and Chase followed her gesture. There were two windows with brown shutters next to each other, right in the middle of what should be the third floor. “That pair must be part of one flat.”

Chase nodded, and parked the car. He took a deep breath. His stomach was doing backflips inside him, filled with nerves. Yet somehow, he still wasn’t as scared as he thought he would be. “Great. Let’s get started, then. Can you hand me the bearings?”

Mina nodded, and opened up the car’s glove compartment. Nestled among loose napkins and empty plastic bottles was a brown paper bag. She grabbed it and handed it to Chase. It made metallic clacking sounds as he took it. “You be careful. Try not to hit any other windows.”

“Ha. Well, luckily, my aim is slightly better than average,” Chase said with a faint grin. “Keep an eye out.” Then he opened the car door and stepped outside. Soon after he’d left, Mina awkwardly climbed over into the newly vacated driver’s seat. She then ducked so she was out of sight of the windows and grabbed a small bedsheet: gray, like the rest of the car’s interior. She carefully draped it over her, providing a rudimentary disguise that would stand up at a distance, if not up close. And she waited.

Chase stood on the cracked asphalt outside, looking upwards. He picked out the windows that Mina had pointed out. Indeed, they were the only ones on the back with brown shutters. But did that mean they were the right ones? They couldn’t drive around the sides of the apartment building since it was so close to its neighbors, what if there were ones there? He shook his head. No, this had to be right. If it wasn’t, they could check the sides later.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a small, metallic ball—one of many inside. Supposedly, these were ball bearings Mina had, but he wasn’t sure if that was the correct term for the one-inch diameter steel ball. Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered was they could be thrown.

Chase adjusted his grip on the ball. He looked up at the windows again. Raising his hand, he took a deep breath, aimed…and let it go.
.............................................................................................

CRACK!

“What the fuck?!”

Jameson jumped, surprised both by the sudden sound and Anti’s reaction to it. Anti had dragged him out into the living room again, apparently wanting to ‘have a talk.’ But he hadn’t had the opportunity to say much before that sound interrupted him.

Anti glanced around, then looked back at Jameson. “Do you know what that was?”

Jameson shook his head. It sounded…sounded somewhat metallic, but not quite.

“Hmm.” Anti narrowed his eyes, giving Jameson a hard look. But Jameson’s confusion was just as real as his own. “Well. I guess it doesn’t matter. I wanted to—”

THUNK!

That one was a bit different. More solid, like stone. Anti stopped talking and immediately turned towards the sound. “It’s coming from here,” he muttered, vaguely indicating the back of the room. “Be quiet for a minute.”

Jameson folded his arms. What, exactly, was Anti expecting him to do that wouldn’t be quiet? Scream? Why? He knew Anti wouldn’t react well to that, so there was no real reason to.

CRACK!

Anti walked towards the back of the room for a few steps, then stopped. “What is it?” he said under his breath, more to himself than anything. “There was that guy at the door yesterday…and now this. Is it him?”

That was a good point. After weeks passing without much changing, there had been an interruption in the routine yesterday, and now one today as well. Maybe they were connected? If they were…was this the opportunity he’d been waiting for? Jameson felt a lightness rise up in his chest, but he put a lid on it. There was no guarantee. Still, he walked to the back of the room as well, stopping by Anti’s side. They waited.

Then…

CRASH! The sound of glass breaking filled the room. The closed wooden shutters jolted, the way something does when it was just hit by something small moving at great speeds. Jameson immediately ran to the window and threw them open.

Broken glass fell to the floor with a clatter, accompanied by a small metal ball. There was a hole in the window now. Just about an inch big. Jameson glanced outside, first looking at the sky and then directing his attention down to the street below. A car was parked there. And standing outside the car was a man wearing a jacket and snapback cap. Jameson’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?!” Anti grabbed the back of Jameson’s shirt and pulled him away from the window, shoving him to the side. “What if someone sees you?!” he hissed. “I swear, if you—” Then he glanced down at the street. And stopped. His face twisted into some harsh expression as he also recognized the man standing outside. “That little—” He slammed the shutters closed, then turned on Jameson. “Looks like I have to take care of something.”

Before Jameson could react, Anti grabbed his arm and dragged him across the room. He stopped outside the bedroom door, unlocked it, then pushed Jameson inside with enough force to knock him to the ground. “Stay,” Anti ordered shortly, then slammed the bedroom door closed again, locking it behind him. Jameson heard his footsteps retreat, then the apartment’s front door open and close.

“Um…Jamie?” Schneep was sitting on the side of the bed. He’d been asleep when Anti had pulled Jameson into the living room for a talk, but apparently the noise had woken him up. “What was all that?”

Jameson stood up, staggered for a moment, then regained his balance and immediately started signing. 'Chase is outside. I think he knows we’re here. Anti went outside, he’s going to confront him.'

“Wha—Chase?! Chase Brody?” Schneep gaped. “Am I understanding that correctly?”

Jameson nodded, then turned back around to look at the closed bedroom door. He tried to turn the knob. But, as expected, nothing happened.

“How did he get here?! H-how does he know where we are?” Schneep gasped sharply. “Jameson? Is—is Anti going to kill him?”

That thought froze Jameson to his core. He shook his head vehemently. 'No, he wouldn’t,' he signed, even though he didn’t know that for sure. 'Let’s not wonder how Chase got here for the moment. He’s here, let’s accept that and move on. If we can get out of this place, we can meet up with him, and finally escape.'

“Get—get out?” Schneep asked hesitantly. “I—no. No, what if Anti finds us? What if he realizes what we were trying?” His breath rose and fell quickly, accompanied by a frantic look in his eyes. “What if—what would he do to you? I-I cannot—I cannot let—again—not—” He pressed his hand to his chest.

Jameson had been looking over the bedroom door, trying to figure out a way to open it, but when he noticed Schneep’s panic he stopped and walked over to the bed, stopping in front of Schneep. He knelt so they could be eye level. 'Henrik, I understand. It’s a risk. But we will never get a better chance to get out of here. I’m going to take it. And I’d like for you to come with me.'

“I-I cannot walk,” Schneep said, gesturing down at his ankles still bound together. “I-I cannot—cannot leave.”

'I will carry you if I have to,' Jameson said, determined. 'We can escape, Henrik. We can leave Anti and all the pain he causes. We can see the others again. Please… please come with me.'

Schneep was silent for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Then he nodded. “Yes. Yes, you are right. We cannot live like this.”

Jameson smiled. 'Thank you, Henrik.' He gave the other man a quick, tight hug before turning to look back at the bedroom door. 'Now. How do we get this open?'
.............................................................................................

“Ow!”

“Shhh!”

Something had hit the back of Marvin’s head. He couldn’t see what it was in the darkness, but he assumed it was a mop. That’s what it felt like, and it would make sense given he and Laurens were hiding in a janitor’s closet. He made a face at Laurens’ hushing, but didn’t blame her. It would be very inconvenient for someone to find them now.

Laurens had her face pressed to the crack of the door, scanning the hallway. The closet was right next to the building’s only stairwell and across from the elevator; anyone on the upper floors who wanted to get down to the first would show up here eventually. Which made it an ideal place to hide.

Speaking of people passing by…

The door to the stairwell opened. Laurens tensed.

And an unmistakable figure in a green jacket passed by the closet. Anti. His scarred right half was visible as he walked by, the green-irised glass eye blind to the way the door was slightly ajar. He didn’t look happy. Laurens reached back and squeezed Marvin’s arm. He stiffened.

They waited for a few more moments, making sure that Anti was well past them before Laurens eased the door open and the two of them stepped out. Laurens turned back to Marvin and pointed at the stairwell. He nodded, and the two of them headed over, climbing upwards as quickly and quietly as possible.
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Chase hadn’t expected the ball bearing to go through the window. Apparently, though his aim was only slightly better than average, the force of his throw was stronger than he thought. But breaking the window turned out to be a stroke of luck. He watched the shutters open, and caught a glimpse of—Jameson. Unmistakably him, though with a few minor differences. He was wearing different clothes than his usual style, and Chase could’ve sworn his hair and mustache were shorter, for some reason? But it was definitely him. They had the right window.

And then Jameson disappeared from view, and another man appeared. Chase had never seen him before, but he knew this man was Anti from the scars on his face. He saw Anti scowl, then slam the shutters closed.

Chase swallowed nervously. Though he was prepared to play his part, the thought of actually coming face to face with a killer was terrifying—for obvious reasons. He reached inside his jacket and felt the grip hidden against his side. He glanced back at the car, with Mina still semi-hidden in the driver’s seat. It would be fine. Then, slowly, he set the bag of ball bearings down on the street next to him and stood up straight and tense, ready for action. It would be fine. He could do this.
.............................................................................................

“We are getting nowhere this way,” Schneep said. “We need to try something else.”

Jameson gritted his teeth. He threw his weight against the bedroom door one more time, but just like his previous attempts, it didn’t budge. He’d hoped it was flimsier than it looked, a lot of internal doors were like that. But nope. That wasn’t the case this time. He stepped back, giving it one more look over. 'I should’ve tried to take the key from him,' he lamented. 'I knew he had it on him.'

“Let’s not think on that. We should—we should go fast. He could come back a-at any time.” Schneep looked pale at the thought of it. “Can we unscrew the hinges, maybe?”

'With what?' Jameson asked. 'We don’t have any tools.'

“We do not need a tool, we simply need something that can get a grip on them,” Schneep figured.

In unison, the two of them scanned the room. There wasn’t much that looked useful. Clothes in the wardrobe, pillows and blankets on the bed. The only thing of note was a small table lamp on the dresser, which Anti had given them after about a week of ‘good behavior.’ Otherwise, the bedroom got pretty dark with its dim overhead light.

“What type of screws are they?” Schneep asked.

Jameson looked at the hinges. 'The cross-shaped kind. There’s not much room for something to get purchase,' he said. Then he paused. And instead of looking at the hinges, he looked at the doorknob. 'But these are flathead,' he noticed. 'With a wide…indent, or whatever. If we can find something flat but sturdy, we might be able to take the handle off.'

Schneep pointed at the lamp. “That.” When Jameson just gave him a confused look, he pointed again, more emphatically. “Not the lamp itself. It has a plug, yes? What do the prongs look like?”

Uncertain, but desperate to give anything a try, Jameson walked over to the table lamp and pulled the plug out of the socket. Though it had the typical three-prong design of the area, it looked a bit cheap, with the prongs being thinner and flimsier than usual. In fact…maybe they would fit?

Jameson nodded to himself. He stood up, grabbed the whole lamp, and took it back over to the doorway. The plug prongs almost fit into the indent of the flathead screws. Almost. They were just a bit too big. But if he held the plug at an angle, the corners could catch. And if he carefully applied enough force to get it to move without slipping—

“Can I help?” Schneep asked.

It took a few seconds for Jameson to respond, as he kept trying to twist the screw. He could feel it giving, but the prongs jumped out after a few seconds every time. Sighing, he looked back at Schneep and nodded.

“Help me get over there, then,” Schneep said.

Jameson dropped the plug, went back to the bedside, and half-carried, half dragged Schneep over to the door. Once there, Schneep managed to find his footing. The cuffs on his legs didn’t stop him from standing, only walking. He looked at what Jameson was trying to do with the prongs and the screws, and he nodded. “Okay. You twist it, I will apply pressure so it does not slip.”

'Got it,' Jameson said, angling the prong back into the screw.

It took longer than either of them wanted. Even with one of them steadying it, the prongs still wanted to slip out of the indent. But after a few solid moments of work, they managed to unscrew both of the bolts holding the doorknob in place. It fell to the ground, metallic parts clattering, and a soft thunk noise indicated that the knob on the other side of the door fell to the ground as well. Jameson looked at Schneep and grinned triumphantly. Schneep returned the look. 'Here we go,' Jameson signed, and pushed open the door.

It opened easily, and they were out of the bedroom. Jameson immediately bent over and picked Schneep up, carrying him with both arms, running towards the front door. It was also going to be locked, but if they could get out of there, they could figure out what to do now—

Knock knock knock.

Jameson froze. Schneep instinctively grabbed him as someone knocked on the door. They looked at each other, both thinking Anti had returned. But then…why would he knock?

Knock knock knock. “Hello?” a voice called, familiar to both of them.

Schneep inhaled sharply. “M-M-Marvin?” he whispered. Then called, more confidently, “Marvin?!”

“Schneep!” Marvin cried. “Oh my god, you’re really in there!”

Jameson melted with relief, almost dropping Schneep. He tightened his grip on him, and stumbled towards the front door.

“It’s him!” Another voice on the other side gasped. A woman’s.

“What the—Dr. Laurens, is that you?” Schneep asked.

“Yes, it’s me,” she said. “And Marvin. We, uh, we came here with Chase, we’re here to get you out.”

Schneep glanced at Jameson, uncertainty in his eyes. Jameson nodded. He heard them too.

“Is JJ there?” Marvin asked.

“He is right here,” Schneep said. Jameson made a small noise to testify to this fact, nothing more than a simple ‘ah!’ “He—he saw Chase outside, a-and we broke out of our room. Is it…is it true? Are you here to…to help us?” His voice cracked.

“Of course we are, Schneep,” Laurens reassured him. “It’s all going to be fine.”

“I’m going to pick the lock,” Marvin announced.

“What?!” Schneep gasped. “Since when can you do that?” Jameson also raised an eyebrow at this idea.

“I’ve been practicing ever since I got into Silver Hills to see you,” Marvin explained. “I mean, that place used keycards, but the idea of breaking in inspired me. I’m not too good, but this looks like an easy enough lock.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Schneep asked.

“Just stay tight,” Marvin said. A few metallic noises started to come from the front door’s handle. “And try not to distract me.”

“Right.” Schneep nodded. He looked at Jameson and smiled, a mixture of relief and excitement. With nothing else to do, he hugged him tight. Jameson, in turn, held him closer, while also letting him down to stand on his own two feet. He had to save his strength for carrying him out of here. They were so close. Almost out. Just a couple more minutes.
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Not much time passed before Chase heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He stiffened, and spun around towards the noise. And there…was Anti. Anti himself had just rounded the corner of the building and had his eyes fixed on Chase as he walked closer. Immediately, Chase felt all his muscles lock up. Though Anti wasn’t running at him, he was overcome by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness, like he was losing ground in a race against him.

Anti glanced around the street, taking note of how small and empty it was. He put his hands in the pockets of his green jacket, almost casually, and slowly got closer. Chase didn’t look away from him. He kept his hand inside his jacket, on the handle inside.

After what seemed like ages, Anti was standing only a few feet in front of him. He stopped walking. His mismatched eyes quickly flicked up, down, and up again. Then around the area once more. And finally, he asked, “What are you trying to do?”

“I-I-I…” Chase stammered, his throat suddenly closing up.

“I told you not to call the police.” Anti’s voice was steady.

“I didn’t!” Chase protested. “I—there are no police here, are they?”

“You’re right. There aren’t. I would have noticed them if there were. You know, most police are surprisingly bad at hiding. They always choose the same type of car.” Anti glanced at Chase’s car, but luckily, not long enough to notice Mina ducked beneath the windows. “And that’s not it. Not to mention there’s nowhere to hide here. Unless they’re in the dumpsters.” He chuckled.

Chase swallowed nervously. Not only was his throat closing up, it was also suddenly dry.

“So what are you trying to do? If you didn’t come here without any backup, what’s your plan?”

“I…I-I’m going to get my friends back,” Chase said weakly.

A smile twisted Anti’s face. “Really? All by yourself?” he asked condescendingly. His hand in his pocket shifted. “Are you brave, desperate, or just a fool?”

“I’m not…not any of those,” Chase said. “Im…armed.” His grip tightened on the handle inside his jacket as he pulled it out, revealing the hidden handgun. He pointed it directly at Anti. “So…so you’re going to cooperate. Or I’ll shoot you.”

For a split second, Anti looked surprised. But then it faded, and he nodded, like something had finally clicked into place in his mind. “You’ll shoot me,” he repeated.

“Yeah!” Chase said, trying not to glance around the street. If anyone walked up on them at this moment, the whole plan would be ruined. He didn’t have to stall for that long, but even a few minutes was a substantial amount of time to be face-to-face with a murderer and a kidnapper.

Anti tilted his head, completely unconcerned. “Will you, though?”

Chase didn’t say anything. He was afraid his voice would tremble in the same way his hands were shaking.

“How’d you get that, anyway?” Anti asked. “It couldn’t have been easy to order it from America, lie about your current address, then pick it up when going there for a video convention. Or, maybe it was. But how’d you get it into the country? Airports there are a mess for a reason.”

“I—i-it’s not important,” Chase stuttered. How did Anti manage to guess his method of getting the gun in the first place? All that he said about ordering it and picking it up during a video con…that was all true. How did he know that? Lucky guess?

Anti grinned. “You’re wondering how I figured it out, huh? It wasn’t too hard. No records online are completely hidden—especially when you’re a big shot content creator on the biggest online video platform in the world. Your whole life is a book, for those who want to find it. And I did want to find it, Chase. Call it curiosity. You’re friends with my brother, after all.”

“Shut up about JJ!” Chase shouted, steadying his aim. “You don’t get to talk about him! He hates you!”

Anti’s expression darkened. “No. He doesn’t. He can’t.”

Chase blinked. ‘He can’t’? What was that supposed to mean?

“You want to know something else I found, Chase?” Anti asked, taking a few steps forward. Chase jumped, but kept his aim steady and stood his ground. “Something strange I noticed. After you got back from that convention, you made a video thanking all your fans for their support. Then you went quiet for exactly one day. And once you came back online, you deleted that video. Strange, huh? Why would you do that? It was a really touching message.”

Chase’s eyes widened. How did he know about that?! He’d gone to great lengths to make sure all copies of the video had been erased, using every possible measure available from reporting any ones he saw to personally asking—nicely and not-so-nicely—anyone who reuploaded it to delete it.

“Nothing is deleted online forever, Chase,” Anti said, smiling. “But it’s weird, isn’t it? That you made a thank-you video directly after purchasing a gun.” He took a few more steps forward. “A really strange video. A few people thought you were quitting your video career.”

“D-don’t,” Chase said, his voice strangled.

“Don’t what? Don’t get closer? Or don’t say anything?” Smirking, Anti got closer. “You’re not going to shoot me for it. You were never planning on shooting anyone. Well…anyone ELSE.” And he got closer. He walked right past Chase’s outstretched arms, holding the gun in shivering hands. “They were right, weren’t they? You were going to stop making videos. Though they didn’t guess the real reason.”

Chase’s vision grew blurry. It took him a few seconds to realize there were tears in his eyes. He screamed at his body to do something about this. He couldn’t let Anti say this. Speaking it out loud…It made it real.

“Poor Chase Brody. Running two YouTube channels while his best friend was in a coma.” Anti sighed exaggeratedly. “One of his friends disappeared in August, another in December, and just recently, one of the last two left without any warning. Not to mention the first year anniversary of your divorce was coming up. It was a terrible March, wasn’t it? Nobody would have blamed you. Which is why you thought about it. What made you change your mind? I doubt it was because you found your way. There would have been psychiatric records.” Anti leaned close. His face was inches from Chase’s own. “No. You were scared. You couldn’t quite go through with it. You never had the nerve, and you never will.” Anti’s voice was soft and quiet as he smiled. “Which is why I know you won’t shoot me now.”

Chase blinked. He couldn’t look away from Anti’s mismatched eyes.

A moment passed in silence. The wind howled.

“But I’m not the same,” Anti said. And his hand shot out and grabbed the gun in Chase’s hands.

“No!” Chase gasped. The gun almost slipped from his fingers, but he tightened his grip at the last moment, pulling it back towards him.

Anti scowled. “Coward,” he muttered, grabbing one of Chase’s wrists with his other hands. He twisted, trying to wrench it away.

“Shut up!” Chase pulled the gun back towards him. Anti pulled it back the other way. They struggled in a warped game of tug-of-war for a few seconds as they each tried to take the gun from the other. Then Chase stomped on one of Anti’s feet. He gasped, and his grip loosened. Chase jumped backwards.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Anti recovered quickly and leapt forward, catching the barrel of the gun in one hand and pushing it to point towards the sky. His other hand shot out and grabbed Chase’s throat, starting to squeeze. Chase immediately choked, his windpipe beginning to close in. He looked at Anti’s face and saw it devoid of emotion. In that moment, he couldn’t tell which eye was glass.

His own eyes darted around. There was nobody in the street. One hand uncoiled from the gun, instinctively reaching for his throat. Anti pulled the gun further out of his grip, and Chase barely managed to hold onto it by the tips of his fingers. But as Anti’s hold on his throat grew tighter, his energy started to fade. Little by little, the gun was slipping out of his grasp. Black shapes swam across his vision. Finally, he lost his grip, and the gun was in Anti’s hand—

Then the car’s driver side door opened. There was a flash of brown paper, and the loud sound of metal hitting something hard. Anti gasped, and let go of Chase’s throat.

Immediately, Chase staggered backward, almost falling. But a hand caught his arm and pulled him forward, shoving him through the open car door, across the driver’s seat and into the passenger’s. Mina dove in after him, slamming the car door shut. She unparked the car and hit the gas, sending them roaring down the street and into the distance.

It took Chase a moment to realize what happened. “Did you…hit him?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Mina nodded curtly. “You left the bag of bearings on the ground, i-it was the only thing even a little heavy. Not much, but with enough force—are you okay?” She looked at him with concern clear in her face.

“Eyes on the road,” he rasped. “I’m…I’m fine. Just…sore.” He rubbed his neck. Honestly, the physical pain was a mere shadow compared to how shaken he felt. He…he’d never told anyone about any of the stuff with the gun…why he really bought it. Anti figuring it out, and taunting him with that knowledge…it left him feeling exposed. Like his mind had been read by a computer and his thoughts displayed on a monitor for all to see.

Mina nodded, and reluctantly looked away. “We are going to have to circle around the block, to make him think we left. I do not want to come back and see him waiting to shoot us.”

“Good idea,” Chase said, nodding. “How…how much of that did you hear?”

“How much of what?” Mina asked.

“We were…talking,” Chase said carefully.

“Oh. Then none. I just barely saw the edge of you two standing across from each other. Then he got closer, and lunged, and when he grabbed your neck I-I knew I had to do something—” Mina stopped, taking a deep breath. “You are sure you are okay?”

“Fine,” Chase repeated.

Mina nodded again. “I…We should go fast around the block. I hope the others are having better luck.”
.............................................................................................

This was taking too long. Marvin was pretty sure his practice lockpicking had gone much better. But now that the stakes were high, his skills were slipping. Laurens hovered anxiously nearby, trying not to look directly at him so he didn’t get distracted. Unfortunately, her very presence was a distraction that he couldn’t currently get rid of. Occasionally, he could hear shuffling movement from the other side of the door. Schneep had gone silent, and Jameson hadn’t said anything to begin with. They must have known how important this was.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Clack.

Marvin inhaled sharply. His face was so close to the door that his nose was practically touching the wood, so he leaned back for this last step. Slowly—SLOWLY—he turned the pins he’d brought, acting as a key for the lock. And there came the unmistakable thunk of a latch pulling back.

He wasted no time, grabbing the doorknob, pulling it outward, realizing he was in the way and standing up straight and walking to the side to allow a clear path, then finally flinging the door open.

The room beyond was nothing impressive. Kind of run-down actually. There was furniture, but Marvin didn’t spare the surroundings any more than a cursory glance. His attention was immediately caught by the pair standing just beyond the door. “JJ! Henrik!” he shouted, voice catching on a sob in his throat. “You—you’re—” He was too overwhelmed to form any words beyond that.

Jameson waved with one hand. The gesture was a bit awkward, but the tears welling in his eyes and relieved slump of his shoulders more than made up for it. Schneep also started crying immediately. “Marvin…?” he asked. His tone was uncertain but hopeful.

Marvin rushed forward and flung both his arms around the two of them. Silently, he squeezed them tight, shaking his head in disbelief. “I-I was…I was…so worried,” he choked out. ”I…I missed you.”

For a moment, the three of them just stood there, embracing each other and enjoying the feeling of seeing someone you loved after so long.

But then Laurens coughed awkwardly, and Marvin pulled away. “Uh, right,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” she said, “but, uh, opening the lock took a few minutes, a-and I don’t think Chase can distract Anti for too long.”

“Laurens!” Schneep said, smiling softly at her. “You came all the way here? You…you did not have to.”

“No, I did,” Laurens said firmly. “I-I needed to know you were alright. And Marvin needed a lookout while he concentrated on opening the door, so…”

“You are the best therapist,” Schneep laughed.

“Okay, but seriously, we should go,” Marvin said. At that moment, he glanced down. And frowned. “Um, Schneep? What’s that?” He pointed at the cuffs.

'Anti did that,' Jameson explained. 'For obvious reasons, he didn’t want us getting away.'

“But…you don’t have anything,” Marvin said, confused.

'Technically. But I couldn’t leave Henrik behind, could I?' Jameson shook his head. 'It’s okay, I can carry him.'

Marvin glanced at Schneep. “You’re okay with that?”

“Well we do not have much else choice, do we?” Schneep said, a bit dryly. “Now…” He glanced around the room, on edge once again. “…can we leave? Please?”

“Right.” Marvin nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jameson scooped Schneep up again and followed Marvin and Laurens out into the third floor hallway. He looked around as they hurried towards the stairwell. So this is what the building looked like outside of that little room. Somehow, it fit perfectly. Though, for a moment, he wondered if Anti really WANTED to be in a place like this. Somehow, he doubted it. Anti had always wanted more.

They took the stairs a bit slower than they wanted to, as Jameson carrying Schneep meant he couldn’t quite see the steps beneath his feet. Laurens lent her arm as support, helping to steady him. But a couple minutes later, they left the stairwell behind and started down the next corridor.

As soon as they did, Marvin heard the distant sound of footsteps. He looked down the hall, which ended in a turn to the left, and saw a figure starting to turn the corner. A figure in a green jacket.

Marvin inhaled sharply. Thinking quickly, he glanced around to find the closet door they’d hidden in before. Once he saw it, he grabbed Jameson’s arm and Laurens’ hand and ran towards it, pulling open the door. Without explaining a thing, he shoved them inside before hiding there himself and shutting the door behind them.

The whole thing took about thirty seconds, and luckily, Anti had not been paying too much attention to the hallway. He seemed more concerned with something he was holding in his hands. But at the sound of the door closing, he glanced up, pausing.

“What was—” Laurens started to say.

Marvin shushed her, pointing over his shoulder at the closet door. “It’s him,” he whispered.

Though it was dark in the closet, Marvin could feel the others all tense up in unison. Someone—maybe Schneep—gasped before falling silent.

Anti scanned the hallway. Nobody was in sight. But doors did line the walls—it was an apartment building, after all. After a solid few seconds, he started walking again. Probably one of the neighbors. But that almost made it worse. Quickly, he hid the object he’d grabbed outside under his jacket, tucked in between his arm and torso. It would do no good for someone to catch him with a gun out in the open.

Marvin pressed his face to the gap in the door. It was really hard to see out of when the door wasn’t ajar, but he could make out light. And shadow. And they could all still hear the heavy footsteps slowly coming closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Someone grabbed Marvin’s arm, and he barely bit back a surprised shout. He did jump, though, and someone else gasped.

A shadow passed in front of the light from the gap. The footsteps stalled right outside the door.

But for only a split second. They continued quickly. The door to the stairwell opened and closed. All traces of the footsteps faded away.

As soon as he was sure Anti was gone, Marvin opened the door. Glancing back, he was a bit surprised to see Jameson had been the one to grab him, almost dropping Schneep in the process. But honestly, Marvin didn’t blame him. He was as pale as a lost ghost, shaking with dread at the thought of this long-awaited escape attempt being foiled. Schneep didn’t look much better, clutching tightly to Jameson. And Laurens was in the same boat, long-forgotten shadows haunting her face as she held her arm where it had once broken.

Marvin made eye contact with each of them. “Fucking. RUN.”

Instantly, every single one of them bolted.

Anti would know that something was off as soon as he got upstairs and noticed his door unlocked. He might take a moment to glance around the inside, but it wasn’t a big apartment, and it would be obvious what happened to Jameson and Schneep. Then he would go searching for them.

So they ran. Down the hallway in a dead sprint, only slowing for a moment to turn the corners, then picking up speed again once it straightened out. They burst out of the building’s front doors, out onto the empty street. Wind had picked up, giving the already cold winter air a sharper chill. The gray clouds overhead hung oppressively low.

Laurens glanced left and right, taking in the complete lack of anyone outside. “Where the hell are they?!”

“No time!” Marvin said. “Go go go go!”

They turned left and started running down the street. But as they did, Schneep glanced back, looking for any sign of Anti pursuing them. Instead, he shrieked, “Wait wait wait! Behind us! Car!”

Marvin looked back as well, and saw Chase’s car turning onto the street. “Nevermind, other way!” he shouted, and in almost comical unison, they all skidded to a halt and spun around, heading back the other way.

The car picked up speed the moment it saw them. Quickly, the distance closed, and the car pulled to the side of the street just as the group arrived to meet it. Laurens opened the back door. “Inside!” she said, gesturing. Marvin pushed Jameson a little to help him and Schneep get inside quickly, then hopped in himself. Laurens got in last, and the car peeled away before she had even fully closed the door.

They drove past the front entrance to the apartment building just as Anti slammed through the double doors, an expression of absolute fury on his face. “Duck!” shouted a voice from the passenger seat—Chase. The others saw Anti raise something in his hands and aim it. A gun. Then they all ducked.

But the shot they were anticipating never came. Instead, Anti continued to aim, following the car as it turned the opposite corner. And even after it had disappeared from sight, he kept the gun pointing in that direction, lowering it a solid minute after the car was long gone.
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The car ride was silent for a good while after they fled the apartment building. As they planned, they took unexpected, random twists and turns, just in case. Only once they were on the completely opposite side of the city—which took about ten minutes—did someone speak up.

“Okay… NOW we call the police,” Laurens breathed.

Marvin burst out laughing. He doubled over, hitting his head on the back of the car seat in front of him. His shoulders shook with the uncontrollable mirth created by utter relief.

“Yeah, I-I can do that now, if we want,” Chase said, pulling out his phone. “Though…I mean, what do I say? Just tell them where the location is? Say that we went there knowing how dangerous it was? Definitely shouldn’t mention how there are four of you in the three-person backseat of my car, none of you wearing seatbelts, haha.” He chuckled a bit, turning around to look at the others. But the laughter faded quickly, turning into soft crying as tears fell down his face.

Jameson, previously looking out the window, turned around and leaned forward. 'Chase?' He asked, using his name sign of ‘C-friend.’ 'Are you okay?'

“Am I okay? Am I okay?! Am I—” Chase shook his head, but kept his eyes fixed on Jameson and Schneep. “I-I can’t believe you two are here. That we…we actually did it. A-and you’re safe, a-and you’re not hurt—I m-mean, I mean relatively—a-a-and I just—I j-just…” He shook his head again. “You’re…you’re here.”

After a moment, Jameson smiled. 'Yes. We’re here. All thanks to you guys. Thank you so, so much. I…I can hardly believe it. It’s finally over.' He turned to look at Schneep, smiling. But Schneep wasn’t looking at him. Or at Chase. 'Is everything alright, Henrik?'

“Um.” Schneep pointed at the driver’s seat. “What the fuck?”

Mina glanced back at him, giving him a small smile. “H-hallo, Schneep.”

Schneep stared at her. He blinked. Then he slapped himself.

“Schneep!” Laurens sat up straight. “Don’t—”

“This is a dream. This is a fucking dream, there is no way you are all here, and her?” Schneep muttered, shaking his head. He raised his hand to slap himself again, but Laurens’s hand darted out and grabbed his wrist before he could.

“It’s not a dream,” she said gently. “Mina is here. She helped us make the plan.”

“Hah. I-I-I—” Schneep glanced around the crowded car again. He twitched a bit, flinching as if expecting a blow to come that never did. His other hand started scratching his neck. “It just—seems unbelievable.”

“I know. But…try using something else,” Laurens suggested. “Do you remember what else you can do?”

Schneep went quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. He leaned back against the car seat and crossed his arms: right hand on left upper arm, and left doing the same on right. Pulling his arms in, he muttered something under his breath. “Einhundert, dreiundneunzig…sechsundachtzig…neunundsiebzig…”

Mina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and turned her eyes back to the road. “We…can talk more later, yes? Back at the house.”

Schneep didn’t stop mumbling, but he did nod.

Meanwhile, Marvin had stopped laughing. There was a hard light in his eyes, and he dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to call nine nine nine on that fucker,” he said.

'Oh, please do,' Jameson said.

Chase grinned, though there were still tears in his eyes. “Y-yeah…we should do that now. And…and I’ll call Detective Nix once we get back home, too, so he knows what really went on.”

Marvin gave him a thumbs-up, then started dialing. “We’re gonna take him down. Once and for all.”

Though Chase, Laurens, and Mina all made sounds of agreement, Jameson hesitated. He rested a reassuring hand on Schneep’s shoulder and looked out the car window again. He knew Anti wouldn’t go down that easily. He’d probably started packing up the moment they got away, in anticipation of a police raid of some sort.

But for now…for now, he was out. Jameson and Schneep had finally left that apartment behind. And for once in over a year, Anti no longer had a hostage or any other form of leverage. He had no power over them.

The battle was won. The war would continue, but this was a decisive victory. It should be enjoyed.

And finally, JJ smiled.



Part Eleven of the Switch AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of an ongoing fic series I started in April 2019. After nine months, our missing friend returns, and the rest of the group is relieved. But things aren't instantly fixed and all better. Quick warning, there are some things that could possibly be upsetting. Mentions of self-harm, though nothing actually happens. Read at your own risk.]
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It was late at night, and the suburb streets were almost completely empty. There was just a single car driving down the road, a small silver one passing below the yellow streetlights. The woman at the wheel kept glancing out the side window every minute or so, seeing what has changed since she was last in the neighborhood. It probably wasn’t the safest thing to do, but then again, if she hadn’t been looking out the window, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the person on the side of the road at all.

She drove past at first, but then she suddenly hit the breaks. What was that guy doing out here this late at night? That was…a little weird. She looked back at the person—now upon further inspection, she decided it was a man—again. Then she backed up. Illegal, maybe, but she didn’t particularly care. “Hey, there,” she called, rolling down the window by the sidewalk. “Um… How’re you?”

The man stared at her, silent and swaying on his feet. He…didn’t look good. His hair was a ratty mess, held back in a ponytail. He was extremely pale, practically white. As she watched, he folded his thin arms, hugging himself. He was shivering, despite the warm summer night.

“Um…” The woman debated whether or not to go through with her next idea. She’d heard stories about thieves and worse using a vulnerable face to fool people into trusting them. But in the end, she couldn’t take the chance that this was a trick. She’d take the risk. “You need a ride?”

After a moment of continuing to stare at her with wide blue eyes, the man nodded. She unlocked her car doors, leaning across the seat to push the passenger-side door open. The man climbed inside, shutting it behind him. He didn’t look at her, instead staring forward blankly. Now that she was seeing him up close, he…he looked even worse. His cheeks were hollow, shoulders sharp and bony. “So…where to?” The woman asked. “And, uh, are…are you okay?”

The man mumbled something that she couldn’t quite make out.

“…I see.” She looked him over again. Now, she noticed his exposed arms were bruised and battered. And his wrists…she didn’t even want to look at them, they were just…mangled. “Um…” She picked up her phone, searching for a destination on her GPS. Once she’d found the address, she put the phone down and put her car back into gear. “We’re going to the hospital, okay?”

“Mm-hmm…mhh.” The man leaned backwards against the car seat and closed his eyes.

The woman started driving once again. “Umm…what’s your name?”

The man didn’t answer. When she glanced over at him, he wasn’t moving. Normally she would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep, but with the condition he was in…she dared to speed a little above the limit.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the woman tried to shake the man conscious, but to no avail. She didn’t want to try slapping or shouting, so she awkwardly tried carrying him in both arms.

“Ma’am? Ma’am! You can’t park here!” A woman in scrubs was running towards her from the nearest entrance. “This is for designated vehicles only!”

She spun around, staring down at the shorter woman. “This man needs medical attention,” she said coolly. “I will move my car once I’m sure that he has it. If it takes too long, feel free to tow it.”

The hospital worker was taken aback; the woman’s tone left no room for argument. She pointed back towards the entrance. “Reception is that way, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She walked as quickly as she dared in that direction, holding the man close to her.

The hospital’s reception was mostly empty, though there were a few people sitting around. All of them watched as the woman ran right up to the check-in desk. “This is an emergency,” she stressed. “You need to get this man in there right now.”

The man sitting at the desk stared up at her, shocked. “Al…alright, ma’am.” He pulled the keyboard of his computer close. Briefly, he looked at the monitor to type, but then after a moment, he looked back at the man, face scrunching in confusion…and something else. “Who is he?”

“I-I don’t know,” the woman admitted. “I found him on the side of the road.”

At that moment, a man in a white coat—a doctor—entered the reception, door swinging closed behind him. He approached the desk. “Thomas, do you—” He started to say, glancing at the woman. And then he stopped. He turned to fully look at the woman, then down at the man she was carrying.

“Hi, Dr. Green,” the receptionist Thomas said. “Sorry, I need to take care of this, she says that this man needs urgent attention.”

“Damn right he does,” Dr. Green said. He grabbed a small radio device from his belt. “Dr. Green to the A&E department, get a trauma team down here. Now!”

The team arrived within five minutes, bringing a gurney with them. They moved quickly, taking the man from the woman and laying him out, checking pulse and breathing as they rushed him back down the hall they came from.

Dr. Green turned to the woman. “Thank you.”

“Oh! Um, you’re welcome.” She was a bit confused by the phrase; it sounded oddly personal. “I couldn’t just leave him there. Can you find out who he is?”

Dr. Green smiled. “I know who he is. He used to work here, nine months ago.”

The woman blinked. “Ah. Well then. Can I ask who he is?”

“His name’s Jackie. Dr. Jackie Parker.”
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The phone was ringing. In fact, it had been ringing for five minutes straight. Rama blinked the sleep out of their eyes and rolled over to grab their cell phone. They squinted at the bright screen, blinding them in the dark room. This was a familiar number. But what was he doing calling them at 12:30 in the morning?

Rama accepted the call, holding the phone to their ear. “Hello, Karter. What is it?” They laid back in bed, listening to the other end. Then their eyes widened, and they sat straight up. “You’re kidding. Karter Green, is this a joke?” They listened for a while more, then threw their blankets away, standing up. “Holy shit, I’m there. Just give me some time, I need to wake up Michelle and drive there. I-I’ll see you once we arrive.”

Over half an hour later, another phone across the city started to ring—or, vibrate, since it was on silent. This call was picked up much quicker than the other.

“Rama, why are you calling me?” Anti asked. “You never call me.”

“Anti!” Rama shouted. “They found him.”

For a moment, Anti couldn’t say anything. He was frozen. He was staring at his computer screen, but he wasn’t seeing it. All that he saw was Jackie—Jackie laughing, Jackie knocking on the door to check on him, Jackie offering to watch Will for the evening, Jackie saying goodbye on the last day he’d seen him. “They did?” His voice came out oddly strangled.

“They did!” Rama also sounded choked up. “Michelle and I are at the hospital now, the one h-he worked—works at. He’s…he’s really here. He’s alive.”

Anti was silent for a long while. “Th-that’s great. Oh my god.” He didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to express the wave of warmth and relief he was drowning in? He hadn’t expected to be feeling this. “H-have you called anyone else?”

“I called Henrik, but he didn’t pick up, so I left him a text,” Rama said. “I’m about to call Jameson and Marvin.”

“Do that right fucking now. I-I gotta—I gotta figure out how to get there.” It was one in the morning, the buses were closed and he couldn’t drive. Should he bring Will? It sounded like Rama had brought Michelle, but she was Jackie’s daughter. If he didn’t bring him, he’d have to find someone to watch him—

Why was he just sitting here?! He had to get there now! Anti pushed his chair back, knocking it over. There was no way he was waiting until morning to see Jackie again.
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After shouting at various hospital personnel for a while, Anti was finally let into the ICU. He made a beeline for the room where Jackie was, easily identifiable by the fact that Rama and Michelle were outside the door. Michelle was sitting on a plastic hospital chair, wearing her Supergirl pajamas and swinging her feet. Rama, meanwhile, was talking to a woman with a short blonde undercut. The woman was dressed neatly, and lacking the usual ID that hospital employees wore. Anti glared at her. He walked right up to the group and asked, “Who the hel—heck is this?”

Rama sighed, but smiled at him. “Hi, Anti. You got here quick.”

“Got a ride with a neighbor, and got her to watch Will, too. Who is this?”

“This is Ms. Davidson, she’s the one who found Jackie,” Rama explained.

Ms. Davidson flashed a smile, holding out a hand. “Charming. Are you Jackie’s brother?”

Anti folded his arms, not taking the woman up on her offered handshake. “I might as well be at this point. How do you know him?”

“Well, I don’t.” Ms. Davidson curled her hand into a fist and withdrew it. “I was driving and I saw him walking down the side of the road and he looked…well, I thought it would be a good idea to get him here soon.”

“You’re American.” Anti noted her accent. “What are you doing here? Where did you find him?”

“The suburbs, southeast side of the city.” Ms. Davidson folded her arms. “And I’m here for my own reasons, that I don’t have to explain to you.”

“And you just happened to be driving through the suburbs, in the middle of the night? Why?” Anti demanded. “Lose your hotel or something?”

“Anti, stop,” Rama suddenly snapped. “Don’t you dare immediately just into this with your sh—stuff. Not right now. She found him, that’s all that matters.”

With that, Anti glanced towards the closed door to the hospital room. His expression softened, just a bit. “Fine. Thanks, Karen.”

“My name is St—”

Anti didn’t bother to listen to Ms. Davidson, quickly walking to the door and closing it behind him and cutting her off.

The room was about average, for what hospital rooms looked like. And Anti was quite familiar with what they looked like, having been in quite a few of them. But he never could’ve imagined that he’d one day see Jackie in the hospital bed. Let alone like this. Jackie was sleeping, or maybe unconscious, looking quite small underneath the white blanket. His hair was spread out across the pillow, a few strands shorter than the rest. They must’ve had to cut the hair elastic out, to get his hair out of the ponytail. There were a few wires and tubes hooked up to Jackie, including one leading to a bag of blood and a mask on his face leading to a supply of oxygen.

Anti pulled one of the hospital chairs closer to the bed, spinning it around before sitting down, so he could rest his arms on the back of the chair. He was silent for a long, long moment. Jackie…he was really back. Hesitantly, Anti reached out and gently picked up one of Jackie’s hands, careful not to touch the bandage wrapped around his wrist. He ran his thumb over the back of it, feeling each place where the bones stood out. “God…” he whispered, his voice breaking on the single syllable. “What did he do to you?”

Jackie didn’t answer, of course. Anti glanced over at the various machines surrounding the bed, noting the steady rate of the vital signs. He sighed. Deeply. For what felt like a long time, he just sat there, holding Jackie’s hand. Until the fingers twitched. The steady breathing hitched a bit, and Jackie’s eyelids fluttered open.

“…H…hey, there,” Anti said quietly. He gently squeezed Jackie’s hand—very carefully, more of a slight applying of pressure than anything else.

Jackie’s breath hitched again. His eyes swiveled over to look at Anti without moving his head. They widened slightly. “A-an…ti…?” Jackie’s voice was hoarse, rough with either disuse or overuse, hard to tell.

Anti smiled, trying to look cheerful. “Yeah. It’s me. You’re in the hospital, it’s alright.”

Jackie tried to squeeze his hand back. But then his eyes narrowed. “…real?” he asked. “P…prove…it.”

“Prove it?” Anti thought about this for a while. How would he go about doing that? “Well…alright, I guess.” He took a deep breath. “You remember how we met, right? It was actually in this same hospital. But, y’know, I was in the bed this time. You were just on your rounds, and you looked inside my room to check on me, because you’re a friendly bastard like that. And I told you to fuck off.” Anti laughed a bit. “Well, actually, I couldn’t talk, but I wrote it down on the whiteboard they gave me. And when you wouldn’t go away, I just kept writing it bigger and underlining it and stuff. And then you did fuck off, but an hour later you showed up again, and you brought a milkshake from the cafeteria ‘cause you said it looked like I needed one. And when I didn’t tell you to fuck off that time, you kinda just…sat there. And talked to me.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “So…yeah. I-I don’t know if that would help, but I mean, I never told anyone but Will that story—without saying I said ‘fuck off,’ of course.”

Throughout most of the talking, Jackie’s eyes had stayed narrowed. It wasn’t until the end that he relaxed. He closed his eyes, and once again tried to squeeze Anti’s hand. “…yeah…” he rasped.

Anti nodded. He felt his heart in his throat. For a moment, he thought it would leap right out. But then he felt a sudden shock of cold, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. He suddenly cleared his throat, pulling his hand back. “Rama and Michelle are here, too,” he said. “I-I’ll go get them.” And with that, he stood up, walked back to the door and opened it.

Upon hearing that Jackie was awake, Rama burst into the room, holding Michelle by the hand. “Oh…” They breathed, and then hurried to stand next to the bed, leaving the hospital chair for Michelle to sit in. “Hey, Jackieboy.” They smiled, blinking back watery eyes before reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from Jackie’s face. “It…it’s good to see you again.”

Michelle scooted the chair closer. “Hi, Daddy.” She was whispering. “Ren said to be careful ‘cause you’re hurt. So I’m gonna say hi from here instead of hugging.”

Jackie couldn’t say anything, just staring at the two of them. All of a sudden, he began crying, softly.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Jackieboy,” Rama said. They started to cry too, though they were still smiling. “You know the guys here, you’re in good hands.”

Anti left. He didn’t want to intrude on this warm family moment.
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The others came to see Jackie the next day. Marvin and JJ arrived together, of course. They showed up in the morning, looking as if they’d just woken up. JJ immediately began talking Jackie’s ear off about what had happened while he was gone, and though it was unusual for him to talk that much, the hospital had absolutely refused to let him give Jackie a hug, so he settled for showing relief in a different way. Marvin had actually been quiet this time. At a pause in JJ’s talking, he leaned forward and simply said, “I’m sorry.” The words were heavy, as was his expression; it was as if he knew exactly what that sympathetic phrase, usually said so briefly, without any true knowledge, was directed at. Jackie had started to cry again after hearing it.

Schneep arrived later that afternoon. The moment he stepped into the room, he began babbling explanations about how he’d gone to sleep early the night before and hadn’t seen Rama’s calls, and how when he saw what happened in the morning he’d tried to get off work so he could come see him sooner—eventually he ran out of steam and just collapsed on the hospital chair. Jackie had cried again, full-on sobbing this time, spluttering out phrases about how he’d thought Schneep had died that day he’d been taken. Schneep had used that moment to curse Distorter, then assured Jackie that the poison was entirely out of his system. Eventually, they both fell quiet. Schneep refused to leave for three more hours.

Eventually, the details of the situation were passed from Rama—who had been the one the hospital told, due to being Jackie’s spouse—to the group of friends. In short, Jackie’s condition was not good. The biggest problems were malnutrition and muscle weakness, followed shortly by infections from a few healing wounds, and the scar damage from wounds that had already healed. He’d need to stay in the hospital for a month more at least, and even after he was let out, he’d probably need to continue physical therapy. Everyone was happy to accommodate this. Rama visited the hospital nearly every day, and Schneep was in a close second. JJ would visit and brainstorm with Jackie about his plans for his next show, and Marvin brought a series of books that he would read out loud to Jackie stuck in bed.

The only one who didn’t show up again was Anti.

A week after Jackie being admitted into the hospital, this routine was interrupted while it was still being established. Schneep was visiting, telling Jackie about something that happened while he was at work, when the hospital door opened, and two strangers walked in. “Sorry, is this the room for Mr. Parker?” one asked.

Schneep glanced at Jackie, who nodded. “It is,” Schneep said. “Why? Who are you?”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but this is a fairly urgent matter,” the other stranger said. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a badge. “My name is Detective Kikelomo, this is my partner, Detective Laurens.”

“I…see.” Schneep tried very hard to remain calm, though his face had immediately lost color. “What is this matter, then?”

“Are you Mr. Parker’s brother, sir?” Detective Laurens asked.

“Well, no—”

“Family, of any kind?”

Schneep chuckled. “Well, actually, no. It is just a coincidence, how we look.”

Detective Kikelomo frowned. “This might be—”

“Please let him stay,” Jackie suddenly said. The adjustable bed was in a sitting position today, but he was still leaning heavily back, still hooked up to an IV and a supply of oxygen.

The detectives looked at each other, then looked back. “Alright, if you insist, Mr. Parker,” Kikelomo said. She cleared her throat. “As we said, we are detectives, we’re with the MPD. We wanted to…talk to you. About a couple things.”

Jackie stared at them. “Like what?”

Kikelomo looked back at Laurens again, but Laurens just waved the floor back to her. She sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s no beating around the bush. Like what happened to you, Mr. Parker.”

“Doctor,” Jackie said.

“I’m…sorry?” Kikelomo looked back at the door, as if expecting someone to be there.

“It’s Dr. Parker. I’m a doctor. I have an MD,” Jackie explained, almost monotonously.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kikelomo hurried to say.

Next to her, Laurens ducked her head. The boys could barely hear her mutter, “How did we miss that?”

“Alright, Dr. Parker.” Kikelomo nodded firmly. “Well, we still need to talk about what happened. You…well, you were missing for nine months. We have a case open on you—or, we did, it was closed four months ago. And now that you’ve returned, it…” She paused, trying to think of a way to say this delicately. “…it’s clear that SOMETHING happened.”

Jackie, if possible, looked even paler than before. He didn’t say anything.

Laurens jumped in. “Obviously, you don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to,” she said. “But…well, our job is to keep people safe, and make sure justice is served. If you can tell us anything at all, that would be really helpful…in accomplishing those goals.”

Jackie stayed quiet. He looked down, and started playing with the remote to adjust the position of the hospital bed.

“I do not think you should be bringing this up right now,” Schneep said, glaring at the detectives.

“Of course, it doesn’t have to be taken care of right now,” Kikelomo backed off. “But, well…as soon as you’re able to talk, Dr. Parker. It’s important that we get this done. The sooner, the better.” She walked forward, and placed a small card on the table next to the bed. “This is my number. Feel free to call whenever.” She and Laurens headed towards the door. “We…we’ll be ready to hear from you, Dr. Parker. We wish you a speedy recovery.”

Once the two detectives were gone, Schneep snorted, and rolled his eyes. “Did they really think any of that official speak was going to work? Ah, well, at least they left you alone.” He looked at Jackie. “Are you okay?”

Jackie looked up at him. He smiled; it looked fragile, like it could break at any moment. “A little…shaken, but yeah. I just…don’t want to talk about…” he coughed. “What were you saying?”

“Are you sure?” Schneep pressed.

“Yeah, Volt. Just…not right now.” He coughed again. “Anyway, keep going, you were in the middle of something?”

Schneep did drop the subject, but he kept the incident in his mind.
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The hospital’s estimation was right; it was a month before Jackie was allowed to go home. A few days before he scheduled to be released, Rama called all of the group, asking each of them to show up at the house so they could welcome Jackie home. All of them agreed, though Anti had sounded strangely reluctant. Luckily the day was a weekend, so even though school had just started up, Will and Michelle would be there as well.

That day, all the boys were gathered in the living room of Jackie’s house. The kids were there as well, staring out the window. Rama had gone to pick up Jackie from the hospital, and now they were just waiting for them to return.

“This is going to be good, right?” JJ fretted. “I mean, I’m no doctor, but this is a good idea, right?”

“Jems, stop your worrywarting, it’ll do no good,” Marvin said, sitting on the couch. “If the doctors say so, t’en it is so. We jus’ have t’be careful.”

“Yes, exactly,” Schneep nodded firmly. “We should not push him to be okay. These things take time.”

Marvin nodded as well. “Exactly. Espec’ally after…everyt’ing t’at must’ve happened.” He went suddenly very quiet, shadows gathering in his eyes. “But don’ say he can’ do anyt’ing, t’at’s just adding insult to injuries.”

Anti, standing in the corner with his arms folded, didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much at all, in fact.

Michelle suddenly started jumping up and down. “I see them! I see them!” She gasped. “They’re pulling in!”

Indeed, there was a car pulling into the driveway of the house, parking. JJ and Schneep hurried to look out the window as well. They watched as Rama stepped out of the driver’s-side door, then rounded the car to open the passenger’s side. They reached inside and helped Jackie step out. He stumbled for a moment, falling into Rama’s arms before recovering. Rama leaned over back into the car and grabbed a black cane from inside, handing it to Jackie.

A minute or so later, Rama pulled open the front door. “Home sweet home,” they said cheerfully.

Jackie poked his head inside. “Oh! It…it’s everyone.”

“Surprise, Daddy!” Michelle yelled. She ran up close, but stopped just before giving Jackie a hug, instead choosing to wave both hands furiously. “I made a banner! Do you like it?” The banner in question was several pieces of paper taped together to stretch across the fireplace, with “Welcome back Dad!” written on it in blue block letters that scrunched together at the end.

Jackie laughed. “I love it, sweetie.”

“Hi, Uncle Jackie,” Will said, smiling a bit shyly.

“Hello, Will. Wow, you’ve gotten taller.” He looked around at the others. “I see you’re all here, too.”

“Well, of course!” JJ said. “We couldn’t just not be here for a homecoming. Not the high school party, of course.”

“I’m jus’ glad t’ey let you change back into your clothes instead of keepin’ you in a gown,” Marvin muttered.

“Yeah, me too.” Jackie looked down at his T-shirt and jeans. His spare glasses were on his face, his first pair having been lost that day he disappeared. “I…I miss my hoodie, though.”

“Oh! Then you are going to love this!” Schneep bent over, and picked a pile of red cloth off the nearest chair. Holding it up, he revealed it was a hoodie. “You left it at my apartment that day! I’ve—I held onto it.” He smiled brightly.

Jackie’s eyes started watering; they’d been doing that a lot, lately. “Oh my god…” he whispered. He took a step forward, stumbled, then managed to cross the room. He took the hoodie and collapsed in the nearest chair. All he could do was run the familiar material through his hands. “Oh my god…th-thank you…”

“Is nothing,” Schneep said. “It is your hoodie, after all. I…I just kept it.”

Rama wiped at their eyes. “H-hey, I bought cake yesterday. Anyone want any?”

Everyone agreed that would be wonderful. Rama disappeared back into the kitchen, and reappeared with a stack of paper plates, some plastic forks, and a white cake box. The cake was custom, with a message on top saying “Welcome Home Jackie!” in red frosting.

“Wait, Jackie, can you actually have that?” JJ suddenly asked. “I thought there was a thing about you having solid foods.”

“There was,” Jackie confirmed. “But I passed that part. Besides, I don’t know if one slice of cake would be a problem.”

“Well, if you insist,” Marvin said, shrugging it off. “By the way, keep t’at close.” He pointed at Jackie’s black cane with his own. “’Tis startin’ to roll away. Y’don’ want t’at to happen.”

“Oh shi—shiitake mushrooms!” Jackie suddenly lunged to grab it. “Thanks, Marvin.”

Marvin grinned. “You’re welcome. It looks like we’re goin’ t’be buddies, huh? I can give you tips.”

“Only for a while,” Jackie said. “Georgia—she’s the physical therapist—said I’ll probably get past it. Thanks, though.”

“Are we going to eat cake or what?” Schneep asked.

“Shoot, I forgot the knife,” Rama cursed. “To cut it. Hang on, one second.” They disappeared back into the kitchen. When they reappeared, they were holding a small kitchen knife.

Jackie paled, shrinking back into his seat.

Luckily, Rama noticed. “Okay, here we go.” They cut the cake quickly. “Everyone come get a slice. Oh, looks like I forgot the spatula, too.” They once again returned to the kitchen, this time taking the knife with them. When they returned, the knife wasn’t there anymore. “Alright—hey stop trying to grab it with your hand, kids!” Rama waved Will and Michelle’s grabbing hands away. “That’s unsanitary.”

“Un-san-it-ary,” Michelle repeated, testing out the new word. Then she suddenly gasped. “Ren, are we going to have cake for my birthday or not because of this?!”

Rama chuckled. “Of course we’re having cake, if you want to. November is still two months away, after all.”

“Yay!” Michelle clapped her hands, waiting patiently this time for her slice of cake.

Everyone soon received a slice of cake, except for… “Dad, do you want any?” Will asked.

Anti, having not moved from his spot in the corner, smiled at Will. “Not right now, kid. Maybe later.”

“Are you sure, Anti?” JJ asked. “We have plenty.”

“I’m sure.” Anti leaned back against the wall, and said nothing more.

For a few moments, everyone talked and chatted about recent events in life. Rama talked about getting their latest story published in a book of short crime fiction stories. This prompted a short discussion about jobs, during which Schneep cursed out his new manager at the coffee shop, and Marvin countered by praising his boss at the bookstore. Will and Michelle answered some questions about how the new term was going before demanding to see some of JJ’s magic tricks. JJ obliged, of course, showing off a few quick conjurings.

About fifteen minutes later, Jackie pushed away his plate with his half-eaten cake. Without saying anything, he grabbed his new cane and pushed to his feet. Of course everyone noticed this, but Jackie just smiled. “Calm down, everyone, I’m just getting some water,” he said.

“Ah, I should’ve brought drinks,” Rama said, snapping their fingers. “I can go get some, if anyone else wants anything.”

“Just give me a moment to get mine,” Jackie said, starting to walk across the room. “Okay?”

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jackieboy.”

Jackie flashed a smile, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Anti narrowed his eyes. He finally moved from his spot, heading towards the hallway that led deeper into the house. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, not bothering to listen to anything anyone else said.

He didn’t actually head to the bathroom. Instead, he turned at the last minute, instead disappearing into the kitchen as well when nobody was looking. And when he walked into that room, he was met by the sight of Jackie, leaning against the counter and holding a knife in one hand.

“Fuck!” Anti lunged forward. “Jackie, no!”

“An—! What are you—?!” Jackie gasped, eyes wide.

Anti was right in front of him in seconds. “Give that to me!” He grabbed Jackie’s wrist and tried to pry his fingers away from the knife handle.

“No!” Jackie grabbed the knife with his other hand, now holding it in a two-handed grip. He jabbed his elbow at Anti, hitting a spot just below his eye and causing him to back out. “I-I need to do this!”

“You don’t!” Anti shook his head, and lunged again. “Trust me, you never need to do this!”

In the brief tangle that followed, the two of them ended up falling to the floor. Tears sprang to Jackie’s eyes as he hit his head on the handle of a drawer, and he let them flow. “Anti, shut up!” He suddenly shrieked. His hands were shaking, but he refused to let go of the knife. “Just let me do this! Please!”

“Like hell I’m going to let you do this!” Anti snarled. “Give it here!”

“No!” Jackie kicked at him. The blow landed, but Anti just flinched, and kept reaching for the knife that Jackie was holding as far away from his as possible. “S-stop! Get away! Leave me alone! Leave me alone Dis—” Jackie suddenly cut himself off. His eyes were wide, and suddenly he began breathing much faster.

Anti finally drew back. “Jackie,” he said, shocked. “Jackie, I’m not him.”

The tears were staining Jackie’s face. “I-I kn-know, I kn-know, I know, I know I know I know—” He shook his head, gasping for air. “I know I know I know—”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Anti held his hands in the air. “Deep breaths, you know? You know the 4-7-8 thing? Can you do that?”

Jackie didn’t react much, staring blankly forward. Slowly, he lowered the knife closer.

“Hey stop!” Anti grabbed Jackie’s wrist again. “Jackie, please, this won’t help you, trust me. Just put it down.”

Jackie let out a sob. “I n-n-need to get rid of it.”

“Look, it seems bad, but this is temporary. There are more things you can do beyond this.” Anti tried to keep his voice reassuring.

“No!” Jackie suddenly twisted his wrist, yanking at the same time with surprising force. Anti, startled, let go. “I-it needs to be shorter!”

That threw Anti off. He backed up. He’d been practically pinning Jackie to the cabinet behind him, and now he gave him more room to breathe. “…What needs to be shorter?”

“This!” Jackie reached up and yanked on his hair. Then he yelped, and threw his hand away. “I-I can’t, I can’t, can’t can’t, I-I-I-I—let me cut it, please—”

“Oh my—holy shit, Jackie.” Anti exhaled slowly. “You…you couldn’t just say that from the start? I-I thought you were going to…you couldn’t have just jumped in with that?”

“Please just let me do it,” Jackie pleaded, shaking his head. “I can’t, I can’t, I—” He suddenly slammed his head against the cabinet door. Anti yelped, and pulled him away from it. “D-don’t pull it a-anymore, please,” Jackie sobbed. “Please, Dis—I-I can’t do it, leave it alone—”

“Jackie, listen,” Anti said sternly. “I’m not Distorter. It’s me, Anti. I’m here.”

Jackie looked up at him with wet eyes. “Y-you always make them too nice, that’s what gives it away. Then they t-turn on me. I-It’s not real—!”

“Of course it’s real!” Anti said, shocked. “What do you want me to say? How can I prove to you—drop the knife!” He suddenly grabbed Jackie’s wrist again, which was in the process of moving the knife closer. “Please, I-I don’t want you to hurt yourself. By accident, either.” He listened to the sounds coming from the living room. Nobody seemed alarmed. Should he risk yelling for help and upsetting Jackie further?

Jackie’s breathing was hitching, his eyes wide. “Just let me have this. P-please.”

“Jackie, please put it down,” Anti pleaded. “I-I can’t trust you like this. It’s me. It’s Anti.” He blinked back sudden wetness in his eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you.” His voice cracked. “I just—I got too close.”

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. Then suddenly, Jackie let go of the knife, letting it clatter to the kitchen floor. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Anti. His shoulder shook with sobs. Anti stiffened, then hugged him back in return. A single tear escaped.

“I-I just want it gone,” Jackie said through his cries. “I want it g-gone. I-I’ll grow it back when I’m okay again.”

“Of course, of course.” Anti rubbed circles on Jackie’s back. “But you can’t have a knife right now. I thought you were going to…to hurt yourself. On purpose.” He paused. “Jackie, promise me you’ll never do that.”

Jackie shook his head. “I…I wouldn’t do—”

“I know you wouldn’t, but promise me anyway,” Anti insisted. “And remember that you promised.”

Silence for a moment, except for a few more sobs. “I…promise.”

“That’s great, that’s great,” Anti said reassuringly.

Jackie cried for a bit longer. “Do you…mean that? When you said you’re sorry you d-didn’t see me?”

Anti swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes. I am so…so sorry, Jackie. I just…” He took a deep breath. “Like I said, I got too close. It—it freaked me out. But fuck that, I’m going to be here now. For you.”

“Th…thank you,” Jackie rasped. His fingers curled into Anti’s jacket, holding tight.

Suddenly, footsteps behind them. And a gasp. Anti turned around to see Rama standing in the kitchen doorway. “…Jackie?” They asked. “Anti?”

Jackie suddenly started crying harder. He reached out, towards Rama, who immediately closed the distance, kneeling on the kitchen floor beside the other two. Jackie pulled them close. “He made me think you were dead…” Jackie whispered. “And Michelle, too. I saw it…”

“I’m right here, Jackieboy,” Rama said gently. “We all are.”

They stayed there for a while more, before Anti and Rama helped Jackie stand up and walk back to the living room. He was still sobbing, red-eyed and tears pouring. The others instantly latched onto it, and soon Jackie was at the center of a large group hug.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“We are here for you when you need us.”

“An’ we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

The gathering came to an end soon after that. Jackie had cried his eyes out, and now he just wanted to go to sleep. So they let him, settling down in his own bed. And they dispersed, going back to their own houses and lives.

And that night, Anti stared out of his apartment window, looking up at the few stars visible. Thinking.



Part Fifteen of the Inverted AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a fic series I wrote from December 2018 to August 2021. After the events of the last chapter, Anti gets ready to take action.]
.............................................................................................

Anti glitched into the hub, emotionally exhausted after the long night. It was strange, for the longest time he thought he couldn’t get tired, even mentally, but then he met these bastards and suddenly he knew the definition of “worn out.” Whatever. He’d spent the last twelve hours or so running around and making sure they weren’t causing trouble, and he’d say that was worth it. He was behind on security footage from the house, though. It could probably wait a few more minutes while he changed the bandages on his neck.

Something bonked the back of his head, and he spun around. “Sam,” he greeted. “Hey.”

Sam ran into the side of his face. Several times.

“What are you doing?” He gently swiped them away. “I know this means something’s up, but it can wait a bit. I can feel the wet cloth on my throat and it’s very distracting.”

Sam leveled him with a narrow glare that said 'Well if you just let it heal like you did with every other wound you wouldn’t have to do that.'

“Don’t give me that look!” he scolded. “I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you AGAIN. Come get me after I deal with this.”

Anti glitched away to another room, only for Sam to dart forward and land on his shoulder just before he broke apart, coming along for the ride. The minute their particles reformed they began insistently thwapping his cheek with their optic nerve. He scowled. “WHAT?! What? Is it the security footage? You saying I have to check that NOW?”

Sam bobbed once, the symbol for yes.

“Fine.” He glitched once again, materializing in the room with the monitors. Technically if he wanted to, Anti could be in two places at once and constantly keeping up with the footage, but that could mess with his concentration if he was doing something more difficult at the same time. So he had to constantly rewind the footage whenever he had a spare moment.

With a twitch, the live feed shown on the monitors froze, and began rewinding. Sam flew off his shoulder and began hovering next to his head, nerve-tail flicking anxiously. “Oh look, the same sort of shit is happening,” Anti muttered with a glance at them. A few minutes passed, and Anti grew impatient, speeding up the film more. “I don’t know what you’re so—”

Wait. Something was different.

Anti paused the footage. He’d gone too far past…whatever that was, so he fast-forwarded a bit and turned on the sound. He was looking at the footage from the living room camera. The timestamp read 7:02 p.m., and the doctor and the vigilante had already left for their nightly occupations. Chase was lying on the couch, and Anti flipped through the other cameras real quick to see Jameson in his room and Marvin in the library. Then he switched back to the living room.

He watched Jack enter the picture and say he was planning on going for a walk. Chase immediately attached himself to him, like he did. But Jack…was a bit more reluctant than he usually was on occasions like this. Anti leaned closer to the screen.

Jack grabbed the gun. Anti let the footage resume its normal speed and went totally silent as he watched Jack confront Chase. A grin split his face. “It ̛wo̴rk̨ed!” He laughed. “It actually worked!” He’d taken a bit of a risk, cleaning Jack’s neural passages of the false memories. There was a chance the spell could’ve snapped back against that and done some mild damage. But he was done with waiting and trying gentle persuasion. Clearly it wasn’t getting him anywhere. So, he felt the risk was probably worth it. And to fight against any possible side effects, he planned for the dream to happen the night before the spell was about to be renewed, when it would be at its weakest.

But things went south quickly. The hero and the doctor came home, even though they’d barely left, and Jack panicked and ran. He saw Jameson upstairs and took the only available option: downstairs. “Jack, what are you doing?!” Anti leaned forward further, actually putting his hands on the screen, his palms fizzing with glitches, almost going into the screen. “He’s not that hard to get past! Just shove him away!” Well, it wasn’t like Jack knew that. And he’d just woken up from a two-year long spell, his brain was likely scrambled, not to mention probably freaked out by seeing the guy who was behind it.

But going into the basement? That was really the worst choice, as it was a dead end without even windows to climb out of. Anti switched to the camera he’d put in the basement hallway, watching Jack run into the first room to the right and slam the door behind him. The others were right on his heels. They talked among themselves for a little bit, and then Marvin came out of the library and demanded to know what was going on, and then Jackie explained to him in the most annoyed, anger-filled tone possible, and then those two shouted for a bit. Everyone suddenly went silent, though, and looked over at Jameson, listening to whatever mental words he had to say.

Anti glared at his image on the screen. God, he wished there was some way to pick up on those projections. Sadly, he couldn’t intercept them through the cameras, especially not on past footage. But he could figure out what was happening well enough. He watched Jackie try and fail to appeal to Jack, then try to force the door open. After it failed to budge, Chase helped him pull it open enough for Jameson to slip inside.

He switched to the camera in the room. It was obvious that Jameson was putting on an illusion for Jack. Luckily, cameras couldn’t be fooled by mind tricks, and neither could Anti, if he’d been there in person. “Don’t you fucking ḑar̨e̡ let him inside,” Anti growled. “Don’t do it. Keep your eyes open.” He was so close to the screen, particles from his body were constantly flowing between him and the pixels on the monitor.

For a moment, it looked like Jameson WAS winning. Anti was getting ready to scream, only for Jack to suddenly snap out of it and fire the gun. Everyone burst into the room at that, Chase latched onto Jack while Marvin and Jackie went to help Jameson, who—Anti threw his head back and laughed. “You lucky little Irishman, you actually hit the watch!” The best place to hit. Jameson would be out of commission until that talisman could be repaired.

Jack was still stuck in the house, however. After a while, the others ended up leaving him in that room, locking it behind them as they left. They all went upstairs to the living room. Anti turned up the sound to listen closely to their conversation.

“It will last until morning,” the doctor was saying. “But I must admit, I do not know what to do once that time comes around.”

“I mean.” Jackie was playing with his hair. “We could just…let him go.”

“Yes, good idea,” Marvin drawled. “Let the one guy who now knows about every-fucking-thing we did go out into the world still armed with this information. We’re gonna have the police and maybe even the magic police in here in no time, and the wards aren’t built to withstand a concentrated assault, just keep this place hidden.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve made wards that could do that, then,” Jackie snapped. “Look. This whole thing was a shitty thing to do. And now we have a chance to un-do it. If you’re so worried about him giving away secrets, then find some way to make him forget them, or be unable to tell them, I’m sure you have spells to do that. Still be pretty bad, but at least he wouldn’t be stuck here, like we kidnapped him, which, I’ll remind you, WE TECHNICALLY DID.”

“And?” Marvin demanded. “Then what? We now know spells like that can break. And once they do, even if he doesn’t tell anyone, he’s still going to disappear and we’ll never see him again.”

“Wow. Didn’t know you CARED so much about not seeing Jack again.”

“I—shut the fuck up, I don’t. But—but Chase does! We should probably ask him about this.”

At this, everyone looked at Chase, who was standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded, unusually quiet. And he stayed that way, looking away from the others, for quite a while. Until eventually he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, “…we can’t—can’t undo this, Jackie. We have to…keep going.”

Jackie’s voice softened. “Chase, I know how you feel about him. But you want him to be happy, right? Did he SOUND happy back there?”

Chase didn’t say anything for a moment. “…he just…he can’t leave. Like everyone else does. I-I-I know that there’s…there’s still something there. We’re still friends. I just…need to remind him. I can do it.”

“Chase, are we not your friends?” the doctor asked.

“I didn’t say that. But…it-it’s not the same thing. I don’t know how…just it is. And I can…I can convince him that it’s still the same.”

Silence. Jackie sighed. “Alright. Fine. If that’s what you think. I still stand by what I say, but I’ll drop it for now. For now. I claim the right to try and talk you out of this later.” He looked around. “Now what?”

Marvin glanced at Jameson. “Well, we gotta find some way to fix…that whole situation.”

“I trust you two can do that,” the doctor said. “But Chase, in the meantime, I must remind you about the other one. Maybe you would like to talk to her?”

The other one?

Anti paused the footage, separating himself from the screen. Sam, previously hovering, landed on his shoulder. No. He couldn’t have. Quickly, he rewound the footage once more, to back before the incident with Jack, staring intently at the screen. People came and went, travelling throughout the house. Until, about 4:00 according to the timestamp, when Jameson and Chase entered the house through the front door, accompanied by a woman with curly shoulder-length blonde hair.

“Yo̸u a̴b̨soluţe͡ ̵ba̕sta҉r͝d͢!” Anti screamed. He banged his fist against the screen so hard it partially sank into it, becoming part energy. “I can’t believe I thought you wouldn’t stoop to that! The bar was so low, and you still didn’t manage to jump over it!”

He stepped back, spinning on his heel and dissolving into pixels, reforming in a new room. He’d barely set this up the night before last, all the equipment and screens were still shiny and new. Still just as easy to tap into, though. He blinked, and the screens flickered to life, showing the feed from the new security cameras he’d set up around Stacy’s neighborhood. He began rewinding, back to about 4:00 yesterday. And there they were. Chase and the fucking hypnotist, strolling down the street while he’d been too busy running around, making sure that the city was prepared for the next night of vigilantes, magicians, hypnotists, and underground doctors.

He switched to the next camera. Chase and Jameson were knocking on the door to Stacy’s house. He saw a flicker in the window, but there was no answer otherwise. That didn’t stop Chase and Jameson from fiddling with the doorknob, eventually getting it open. Because of course one of them knew how to pick locks, maybe even both of them, he wouldn’t be surprised. They went into the house and closed the door behind him. A few moments passed. Something hit the window with a thump, but otherwise it was silent. Until a minute later, when the two of them walked back out with Stacy in tow.

Anti growled, the sound coming out laced with a crackle that sounded almost like static. “Sam, we need to see what happened in there,” he said, glancing down at the eye still on his shoulder. “Hold on.” One glitch later, and the hub went dark the moment its source of power had left.

He materialized in Stacy’s living room, shaking off the effects of using the TV as the source he’d connected to. Everything in here looked pretty okay. The only thing odd was that a book was lying on the back of the couch, open. As if it had been thrown at something but missed and hit the window, landing on the couch once it bounced off. Anti frowned, glitching into the dining room.

“Trev, look! He’s back!”

Ah yes. The kids. Both of them were sitting at the table, coloring books and markers spread out before him, eyes wide as they stared at Anti’s sudden appearance. Sam perked up, flying over and landing on top of the daughter’s head, who giggled. “Oh, it’s you two,” Anti said. “I’m looking for your mother. Where is she?”

The son shrugged. “I dunno. She left.”

“Really? What happened?”

“I dunno.”

“Trev’s just upset because Dad was here yesterday and not today,” the daughter said.

“Hm.” Anti tried his best to not scowl. Apparently, according to Stacy, it upset kids to see adults angry. He had no idea how accurate that was, he didn’t have any experience with being a kid. “Why was he here?”

“Okay, so, we were in the living room,” the daughter started, “doin’ homework. And suddenly he knocked on the door, and I know Dad’s voice even though it’s been a long time, and he said he wanted to talk to Mom. She looked out the window and then ducked, and she told us to go into the other room, and we didn’ want to because we wanted to see Dad, but she said she’d take away our dessert priv’l’jes so we did, but we stayed to listen. And we heard the door open, and Mom was yelling, and Dad was talking, and Dad said he just wanted her to listen and he didn’ want to do this, but I dunno what ‘this’ was. And Mom threw a book, and she yelled ‘get out of my head!’ and I dunno what that means, and then she yelled ‘get away from me!’ But then she went really quiet, and Dad talked more but it was too quiet, and then they both left.”

“You didn’t talk to your Dad?” Anti asked.

The son spoke up. “Nah. He said something like ‘what about the kids’ and then he said ‘there’s always time’ and then he said ‘fine but I’m coming to see them tonight’ and then he said ‘fine, tomorrow’ and then he left.” He looked down at the table surface. “I dunno why he didn’ say hi.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry,” Anti said absentmindedly. “Maybe there was an emergency he needed your mother for.”

“But he couldn’ say hi? And he said he would be back tomorrow, and today is tomorrow! Why isn’ he here?”

“Maybe something came up. Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything about your father.” The last statement came out a little bitter. “Do you kids need to, like, eat?”

“It’s not dinnertime yet,” the daughter said. “But we’re hungry. Yesterday we ate all the cereal when Mom didn’t come back before dinnertime. And we stayed up late. I’m tired. Will Mom be back today?”

“I don’t know,” Anti shrugged. “Maybe tonight. Do you know how to make food? Like, sandwiches or something?”

“Do you?” the son asked, glaring.

“No.”

The son was surprised by that. “But…you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups make food.”

“They do if they need to. I’ve never needed to.” Anti glared across the dining room into the adjoined kitchen. “I guess you could scavenge or some shit like that, like you did yesterday.”

“You said a bad word!” The daughter gasped.

“I know.” He kept glaring at the kitchen. “I bet if you use the stools you can reach the upper cabinets if you need to.” Something poked the back of his head and he turned around to see Sam, hovering really close to him. “What?”

Sam zoomed back to the kids and circled around them, giving Anti a happy look.

“You want to stay with them?” Anti asked. When Sam bobbed yes, he shrugged. “Fine. For tonight only. I’ll be back soon. You kids, take a nap or something. Sam, can you keep them safe?” Sam bobbed again. “Alright. See you again later.” And Anti glitched away.

An instant later, he was back in the hub. The first thing he did was grab his knife from nowhere and throw it at the nearest monitor, where it landed deep in the screen with a shattering crash. “You know, ͡Br̨o͠dy, for someon͏e wh͟o͏ claims to love͏ the kids so much, you sure did ͏l͏eave͏ them without a҉n͏yone to ͟ta̧k̸ȩ c̷are̶ ̷of them!” He shouted to nothing. “What, did your curren̨t ̛ob̸s̢ess̢io͝ns͢ get in the way of ͏your ob̧se҉ss̶ion͢ ͡wi͟th̶ t̕he̢m?” After a moment of silence, he laughed. “Oh, that’s probably e͏x͢ac͝t̴ly what happened! Spent all yesterday talking with your wife, then the thing with Jack happened, and now you’re so concentrated on those two that you forgot about your kids, t̢he ̧t̛i̧ny͏ ̨hum̕an͞s wh̨o̷ de͟pęn͞d ͞on̨ ̢y͞o̢u. Gods, Brody. No wonder the government found you guilty of neglect and took them away.”

He stared at the screen he’d flung the knife into, which was now flickering wildly with colors and broken pixels. With a thought, he shut off the power to it and it went dark. His head swung over to another monitor, and he switched on the live feed from the house. Just in time to catch Marvin and Jameson leaving, off to find a way to repair the watch. A quick flash through the other cameras revealed that the hero and the doctor were still home, in the kitchen, Chase was pacing through the upper floor hallway, clearly nervous, and Jack was still locked in the room from yesterday. He looked…angry, but the sort of angry that you become when you’re too scared to even let it show how afraid you were. Another quick glance through the cameras showed Stacy was in the basement too, in another room. She just looked scared, sitting on the bed in the room with her knees pulled to her chest. A quick rewind showed there hadn’t been much harm done to her outside of a brief talk with her ex.

If he just waited until 7:00, the other two would leave, and it would just be Chase there. They still hadn’t upgraded the wards against him. Or at least, not enough. They kept underestimating how easy it was for him to break through them.

He looked back at the broken screen. He had a reflection in it. It was…odd to see. Being solid was not his default state, so it always threw him off guard to see reflections and shadows. His unblinking eye didn’t look away from the reflection as he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, letting it drop to the floor. Next came the bloodstained bandages, also dropped.

And then there was the eye-patch. The one he’d never gone without, the one he hadn’t willingly taken off in…it must be over ninety years now. He reached up and slowly undid the knotted straps holding it in place. The patch was pulled off, held for a moment more, then fell unceremoniously to the ground.

A bright green light flared into being, accompanied by an almost electrical humming. And Anti smiled. “S̡̕ee҉ y͟͠ou̶͢ ̛ş̶o̵͟o͏n̸̕,̕ ̵̨͞C̛͢h͝aşe̵̷.”

The shadows stretched, every electronic in the hub went haywire, all lighting up with green. Reality bent until it broke, splinters of pixels crashing against each other in a cacophony of glitches.

And then it was over. All that was left was a faint red glow…and the shadow of a laughing grin.



Part Ten of the Switch AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of an ongoing fic series I started in April 2019. While Jackie is still missing, JJ takes it upon himself to make sure everyone is doing alright. Though perhaps he's taken on more than he can handle...]
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The alarm went off at eight o’clock am. The beeping had been ramped up in volume, something that Jameson suddenly very much regretted. He also regretted that he’d set his alarm clock on his bookshelf across the room, instead of the nightstand right next to him. He groaned and rolled over, briefly considering throwing a magic bolt at the clock to shut it up, but instead stood up and walked over to turn it off. He sighed. Well, he was awake now.

Normally, JJ was more of a morning person than a late waker. But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Last night, the last he’d glanced at the glowing digital numbers of the clock, it was 3:45 am. And he remembered waking up a couple times, too. He was probably nervous about what he had planned today.

Which reminded him. He needed to get ready. He went through the drawers and found a set of clothes for the day, then went downstairs. While heating up a cinnamon roll for breakfast, he jotted a note down for Marvin, explaining where he would be all day:

"Sorry, I won’t be around all day. I have that meeting with another magician at nine, that one I told you about a few days ago. Then I’m going to go visit a few people and study at the library. I have rehearsal starting at 4:30, you can come watch if you want. See you later! -JJ"

He hoped that would help. Marvin hated being out of the loop.

After that, it was a half hour to get ready, and another half hour to take the car and drive to the park, where he’d be meeting…someone. He wasn’t sure what they would look like. About two weeks ago, he’d reached out to the ABIM—the organization that functioned as a loose government for magicians. He didn’t know much about them, having only interacted with them maybe once or twice. But…well, things were starting to look bad. Jackie had been missing for six months. He hadn’t had any luck scrying for Jackie’s location, and there were no signs of Distorter to go off of, either. He hadn’t seen Anti in person in a few weeks, Schneep was being evasive as well, and Marvin…well, he wasn’t exactly talking about what was going on with him, but Jameson could hear him and his nightmares through the floorboards.

So of course, Jameson had to do something about this. He couldn’t just let everything fall apart. He had to make sure the others were alright, had to find some way to help fix everything. But at this point, he couldn’t do it on his own. Which is why he reached out to the ABIM, hoping other magicians would have some sort of advice. A week ago, they’d gotten back to him, saying they would send a representative out to talk.

Which was why he was in the park right now, walking around the perimeter of the small pond, looking for someone. The park was pretty empty at nine in the morning, on a cloudy weekday, so it was easy to see the only other person around. She spotted him at the same moment, waving him over to a bench sitting by the pond’s shore.

“So. You’re Mr. Jameson Jackson, then?” She asked, eyes scanning him as he approached.

“Yes. And who are you?” He scanned her in turn. She wasn’t too unusual, he supposed. Well, she stood out a bit because of her red hair and green eyes, a rare combination. But her jeans, T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie didn’t seem too magical to him.

“My name’s Aoife Kelley,” she said. “I’m part of the Magi, which is a subdivision of ABIM. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, I suppose. You?”

“Good. Here, let’s sit.” Aoife gestured to the wrought-iron bench. Once JJ sat down, she did as well. “Now, then. To business.” She muttered a few words, and reached forward. Her eyes flared golden yellow, and her hand disappeared, like she’d slid it into a pocket in the air. JJ jumped in alarm, then stared in fascination. He’d never seen a spell like this before. Aoife’s hand pulled back, suddenly holding a blue binder. She flipped it open. “I’m going to just ask you a few questions, see if we have your information right.”

JJ nodded. “Alright.”

“Your name’s Jameson Daniel Jackson. Male. British nationality, Caucasian race. Twenty-seven years old, birthday October 31st, 1990.”

“Yes, that’s all correct.”

“Elemental magic with an ice/water focus, as well as a lesser healing ability. You work as a stage magician?” Aoife raised an eyebrow at that last part.

“Yes.” JJ tried not to squirm. Ironically, he didn’t like being the center of attention. At least, not on such an… INDIVIDUAL level. “If you’re going to lecture me about the dangers of using magic on stage, I’ve already heard it from one of you. I’m being cautious.”

Aoife grinned. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” She looked back at the file. “There’s no history of magic in your family, nor is there a history of mental illness in you or your bloodline.”

That last part was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right.” JJ coughed awkwardly. “Are…can we get to the purpose of this meeting? I’d planned to meet up with someone else after this.”

“Oh. Yes, right.” Aoife flipped the binder close. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not too pressing.” JJ shrugged. “I just…this is a…rather pressing situation I’m in, and I would really appreciate any advice you have on the matter.”

Aoife’s brows scrunched together. “Well, y’see. That’s the problem.”

Jameson felt his heart stop. “What do you mean?”

“This…creature, that you say is following you. That took one of your friends…” Aoife bit her lip. “We…don’t have any records of something like it.”

Jameson could only stare at her. “I’m sorry?”

“We don’t have any records of it.” She opened the binder again, pulling out a piece of paper. Jameson recognized it. It was a printed-out copy of the letter he’d sent to the ABIM online. Because surprisingly enough, the magical organization had an official website. Aoife scanned through the typed words. “It’s something that appears to be human, but with that head injury, it can’t be a living human. And its array of powers…being able to confuse people, sometimes directly control them, and otherwise make it so the mind doesn’t register it as existing…” She tucked the letter back in the binder. “…we don’t have anything like that in our files.”

“Tha—that’s impossible,” Jameson said softly. “You must have something in there. Maybe something buried deep—”

“Yeah, I checked all our records,” Aoife said firmly. “My permissions are pretty high-up, I have access to everything. And I couldn’t find anything like this. Oh sure, there are records of undead that fit the physical description, and some creatures with similar powers, but nothing that fits.” Aoife paused. “I have to ask…are you sure this thing is really out there?”

“Am I sure?” Jameson asked, incredulous. “Am I SURE?! He kidnapped one of my friends and poisoned another! Convinced one of them to walk out into moving traffic! My housemate has nightmares about him that wake him up screa—” Jameson took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm down. “We’ve all seen it. Of course we’re sure.”

“Alright. Alright.” Aoife raised her hands, as if in surrender. “I believe you. But, well…some of the others don’t.”

“Some of the others?” Jameson repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Aoife confirmed. “It’s a big group, and your request for aid got passed around a lot, looking for someone to help. Some of them think you’re making it up, some of them think you’re mistaken…a few of them think you’ve lost your marbles.” Suddenly the question about history of mental illness made more sense. “But the fact of the matter is, we just…we’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Why would I make it up?” Jameson asked quietly.

Aoife shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think you are. But not everyone does. If you could show some sort of proof, it would be helpful.”

“Oh, do you want me to take a picture of him, next time I see it?” JJ drawled. “In between the moments of me fighting for my friends’ lives and free wills?”

“I don’t know,” Aoife said quietly. She stood up, tucking the binder under her arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but until there’s some sort of evidence…we really can’t help you.”

Jameson shot to his feet as well. “Then why did you even agree to meet with me in the first place?”

“Well, it would be rude to just dismiss you in an email,” Aoife said calmly. “Impersonal, you know?” Her voice softened a bit. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t as long as we don’t know what this is. We just need something to show that this…what you’re saying it is. And if it is, then…well…” She pauses. “Then we’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ll need time. And information.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wood. She held it out to JJ, who took it silently. Looking down at it, he saw a phone number burned into the wood surface. “This is my personal cell, call me when you’ve…got something. Okay?” She waited for him to nod, then smiled. “Be seeing you.” And without another word, she left.

Jameson stared down at the wooden card, then tucked it into his pocket. He watched Aoife walk away, until she was out of the park and out of the sight. Then he turned, let out a cry of frustration, and kicked a rock out onto the surface of the pond. Where it landed, ripples turned the water a bright, glowing blue that slowly faded away.

He shook his head, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply. If they’ve never heard of anything like Distorter before, it made sense that they needed proof. Just to make sure he wasn’t pranking them or anything. But god, was it frustrating. What was he supposed to do?! When and how was he supposed to get evidence that Distorter existed?! The gray man hadn’t been seen in months! Not to mention, part of him wondered how much help the other magicians could really be, if they’ve never seen anything like Distorter before. All that meant…all that meant was that they were dealing with a threat unlike anything before. Jameson shivered.

No, he’d…he’d figure it out. He had to. Maybe he could modify some of the mind protection spells he found, so they could ward a specific place? Maybe work them into some sort of offensive spell? Or he could put a little more effort into the tracking spells, if he just tried a little more he was sure he could find Jackie.

JJ headed out of the park and back towards his car. He’d planned to do the studying after he got all his visits for the day done, but his mind was already brewing. He could adjust the schedule a bit. Time to head to the library.
.............................................................................................

The clock read 9:34am, a fact which surprised Schneep when he looked at it.

Didn’t it say 12 just a few minutes ago? No, there had been a 3:40 in that interim somewhere. Or was it 6?

"You really should go to sleep."

Schneep shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Shut up.”

There was a figure hovering in the corner of his eyes. "You’re going to kill yourself before you get anything done."

You weren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Schneep knew this. But it was a little hard to ignore it when it looked like one of your friends. Still, he didn’t answer this time, instead backing up to get a full view of the map he’d taped up on the wall. He used to have this entirely digital, but he’d tried printing in all out on paper, see if that helped. The map was littered with push pins, strings tying together locations to newspaper articles he’d found and taped to the wall. He was aware this looked like a crazy conspiracy board, but it was sort of helping.

The figure hovered closer. It looked close enough to reach out and touch, peering over his shoulder. "Is it going to help? You look terrible. Is it really worth it?"

“Yes,” Schneep breathed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Yes, if I can find you. It’s worth it.”

There was a knock at the apartment’s door. Schneep jumped, trying to back up but somehow managing to fall over the back of the sofa instead. Who was at the door? Who came to see him? Was it him, the gray man, coming to finish the job?

Another knock. “Dude, I can and I will pick your lock, let me in.”

He knew that voice, he realized, standing up. But was that proof? What if it was someone pretending to be him?

Oh, too late, the handle was rattling. The door opened to reveal Anti, who entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the apartment, whistling. “This place is bigger mess than the room of a nine-year-old who refuses to clean. What’s up, Volt?” He paused. “You look terrible.”

"I told you."

“Thank you,” Schneep muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I just…” Anti looked around the area again. “I was in the neighborhood. Why do you have a serial killer board up on your wall?”

“Shut up,” Schneep snapped. He put his hands on his hips and looked over the wall. “I am trying to figure things out. It is a new approach.”

“Uh-huh.” Anti’s eyes darted over the wall. “Figure what kind of things out?”

“You know what I mean! Anything, everything!” Schneep began pacing the length of his living area. On the edges of his vision, there was a shadow of a red hoodie, of big round glasses and brown hair. "Is it worth it? Is it going to work?" “It will work,” Schneep insisted. “I-I can find you.”

“Um…” Anti glanced around the apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”

Shit, no. Anti couldn’t know. Not now. Schneep really didn’t feel like being analyzed by Mr. Psychology-Is-My-Hobby. He whirled around, pointing at the wall. “I am keeping track of everything, everything odd in the last few years. Is very strange, you see? There are a high number of disappearances, and of accidents in the city. More so than in other cities.” He felt his eye twitching, a tiny pulse in his lid. He ignored it. “It is no wonder the police have been no help in finding him, they are useless at this!”

“Really?” Anti looked over the newspaper articles, taking in all the headlines. “You think maybe it’s…you know, all been him?”

“Possibly, possibly.”

"This isn’t going to work." The shadow was whispering in his ear. "You’re slowly dying over this, and it’s not worth it. Can you really find me? You haven’t had success so far."

Schneep waved in the direction of the shadow, as if trying to clear it. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Anti said, looking at him skeptically. “You…did you go to sleep last night?”

Apparently not. Or maybe the clocks were lying to him. Schneep almost sat down on the sofa, but he knew if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stand up and keep working. And that was the most important thing. Keep working. He had to succeed eventually. “Anti,” he said. “Can you do something?”

“Uh, depends on what it is.”

“Where have you been?” Schneep asked. “I have not seen you in, mmm, a couple of months now. Not outside of text.”

Anti shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck. “Well. Y’know. Been busy. Is…is that what you wanted me to do? Answer the question?”

What question? Wait, what? What was happening? Schneep shook his head. “No. I am sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to know if you could…I do not know, do something to keep me thinking.”

Anti took a step back. “Um, what?”

“Like one of those stories you like,” Schneep said. “Those spooky ones you tell. Tell one of those, I want to think about something else for a while.” The shadow stood beside him. “But I do not want to think of nothing.”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” Anti flung himself down on the nearest armchair. “I can think of one you haven’t heard yet. You gonna sit down?”

“No.”

“Well, uh. Alright, then.” Anti bit his lip, thinking. “I could tell you the story about the house on Aspen Street.”

Schneep blinked. “I think you have mentioned that before. But I do not remember it.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve talked about it.” Anti flashed a grin. “But I always got stopped from talking about it, by Jackson and Jac—” He cut himself off. “Well, I can do it now.”

“Why would they stop you from talking about it?”

“I guess it could be kind of freaky. I mean, it starts with a true story.” Anti sat up straight. “Five years ago, we all turned on the evening news to a shocking story. A family of four had been found dead. Tragic enough in itself, but things start to become even bleaker once you heard the rest.”

Schneep sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Anti to continue.

Anti’s eyes lit up. “The house was 68 Aspen Street. For years, it had been home to a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. It had been a happy place, a haven. But things started to crack and fall apart. The parents began arguing. About what, we don’t know. Maybe it was money, or bad habits, or the kids, or anything else that could drive two people apart. But drive them apart it did. And eventually the mother couldn’t handle it anymore. She took the kids and left, filing for divorce. It went through, of course, and the father was left alone in the house that had once been full of loved ones.”

“Now, the details of what happened next are hard to fudge out. We know that the kids visited their father on the weekends, and that they were the only people he saw regularly. The father was fired from his job, and had no luck finding anything new. The neighbors stopped seeing him, as he stayed in the house almost every day. He became a recluse who only really lived for his family. A family that was seeing him less and less.”

“One spring day, the kids and their mother disappeared. The police investigated the father, of course, but they found no evidence that he was involved in any way. Until a week later. A neighbor called the authorities, saying she heard gunshots. Four of them, to be precise. Three close together, and one a little bit after. It came from the house on Aspen Street. When the police arrived, they found the whole family. Dead. The father was still holding a handgun.”

Anti paused. “And from there? Well, stories like that tend to linger. Sad spirits refuse to leave. They say the house on Aspen Street is haunted by the family. People who live there tend to get in accidents. And those who get out before the accidents kill them, they always report hearing voices, having things move when they aren’t there…and seeing the figures of the family. Watching. Waiting.”

The apartment was silent. Then Schneep suddenly took a deep breath. “That is a…that is a very sad story,” he whispered.

“Yeah. It is.” Anti said nothing else. The events spoke for themselves.

“You are very good at scaring people, Anti, your voice can be quite…eerie,” Schneep said.

“Thanks.” Anti grinned. “Now. You should go to sleep.”

“Maybe I will. But not if you are here.” Schneep stood up, and pointed at the door. “So, out.”

“Okay, fine.” Anti started to leave, but paused just before reaching the door. He turned around. “Are…are you doing…?” He seemed to have trouble asking the question he really wanted to.

“I am fine,” Schneep insisted.

“You’re going to go to sleep now, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re…you feel…you’re…?”

“Yes, I am fine. Now leave.”

Anti seemed to hesitate, but he opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Once he was gone, Schneep sighed. He turned to look back at the wall. Something about that story…something was niggling at his mind. He walked up to the map, grabbed a spare push pin, and pushed it into the paper, right at 68 Aspen Street.

"You really think this’ll help? It won’t."

“Shut up,” Schneep muttered. “You are not here now, Jackie. You are somewhere else. And I will find you, and bring you back. I…” He leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”
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JJ lost track of time in the library. He meant to only stay there until twelve, but when he next checked the time on his phone, it was 1:30. He immediately cleaned up, reshelving the books. He had to be sure to do it himself. After all, these weren’t normal books. They were spell books, hidden in part of the library’s reference section for any magician to use if they wished. Well, as long as the magician was registered with the ABIM, since they were the people who allowed someone to see through the concealing ward around the books.

He was…tired. He’d spent about of of his time practicing the spells he read about, hidden in a nook on the second floor of the library. And four and a half hours of consistent magic use was…draining. But it didn’t matter. He had more to do.

A short drive later, JJ parked in the driveway of a familiar house. He grabbed the tupperware container he’d had sitting in the car since he left that morning, climbed out, walked up to the threshold, and rang the doorbell. A short while later, the door was opened…by seemingly nobody. JJ looked down. “Oh. Hello, Michelle.”

“Hi Uncle JJ,” Michelle said. “Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.”

“No, I-I know.” JJ tried to smile. It came out smaller than he intended. Of course Jackie wasn’t here. “I’m looking for your ren.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michelle darted back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ren! Uncle JJ is here! He wants to see you!”

JJ walked inside. The living room looked the same as ever. Except for the coat rack by the door. The white coat hanging from one of its hooks had a bit more dust.

Rama appeared from down the hallway. “Thanks for getting the door, Michelle,” they said, ruffling their daughter’s hair. Then they looked up at JJ. “Good to see you again, Jameson.”

“Good to see you too,” Jameson nodded. He showed off the tupperware container he was holding. “I made cake. Thought you’d want some.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Rama brushed a strand of their hair behind their ear. They hadn’t been wearing the red beanie they used to lately. “C’mon, let’s go in the kitchen.”

Jameson nodded. He shut the door behind him and followed Rama to the house’s kitchen. He set the container on the counter while Rama pulled open the silverware drawer and took out a couple forks. “Here,” they handed one to JJ.

“Oh, no, I mean thank you, but I-I already have some at home,” Jameson stammered. “This is for you.”

Rama nodded, putting one of the forks back. They peeled the lid off the tupperware and took out one of the slices inside, putting it on a plate already sitting on the counter. “So. Is this the part of the visit where you ask me how we’re doing?”

Jameson paused. “It can be.”

“Well…I guess we’re as okay as possible.” Rama plunged the fork into the cake slice. “Nothing much has changed since you last visited. Which I appreciate, by the way, you checking in.”

“It’s no problem.” Jameson smiled sadly.

Rama chuckled. There were dark bags under their dark eyes. “Does Michelle still say the same thing when she opens the door?”

“Yes,” Jameson said softly. ‘Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.’ “How is she?”

“I don’t know.” Rama shook their head. “I’m worried about her, you know. The effect this could have on her, especially if…” They stop. They’d been toying with a part of the cake slice, and they finally put it in their mouth. They swallowed visibly. “The police aren’t giving us updates anymore. The last time they showed up, the detective lady said that, statistically, the longer someone is missing, the more likely it is that they’re…” They trailed off. Then they shook their head, a determined set to their face. “Jackieboy is a fighter. He’s always been tougher than people give him credit for, including himself.”

“He really is.” Jameson nodded in agreement. “People often mistake kindness for weakness. But he’s not weak at all.”

Rama looked…reassured by that. They looked down at their cake slice. “Did you know…that his birthday was last week?”

Jameson was silent for a moment. “..yes,” he whispered. July 10th.

Rama nodded, as if that’s all they wanted. “Well, thank you for the cake.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure you have much else to do today.”

He did, but that didn’t matter. “I can stay longer, if you want.”

“No, no, you go ahead,” Rama waved. “This has been nice, and…and thank you.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jameson headed for the door. “Anything else you need?”

Rama smiled. “No. That’s enough.”

Jameson nodded, and without anything else, he left.

Once outside, he leaned back against the closed door and let out a long, long breath. It felt like there was something pressing down on his spine, making his head want to dip forward. Or maybe it was on his head itself. Or somewhere inside it. But he couldn’t let it happen. He had more to do. It was 1:52, he only had three and a half hours left before rehearsal. Plenty of time for his last visit, but maybe once that was done he could squeeze in another bout of studying. Maybe he could find some sort of spell that would lighten someone’s mood, if only for a little. Or a potion, that would be better. He could learn how potions work, if it could help them. He could do it. He could do it.

Jameson bit back a yawn as he got back in the car. It wouldn’t be too far a drive.

Fifteen minutes later, JJ was knocking on the door to Schneep’s apartment. There was no answer. He waited for another minute, then knocked again. He heard something fall over. “Um…Henrik? Are you doing okay in there?”

The door opened. Schneep was standing in the doorway, his hair wild, his shirt rumpled and with some sort of spill staining the blue material. He was wearing one of his electrical gloves, the ones that would shock someone upon contact, and judging by the wide-eyed look on his face, he was prepared to use it. But he relaxed a bit upon seeing Jameson. “Oh. Is you.”

“Yes, it’s me.” JJ tried to peer around Schneep into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

Schneep muttered something, but stood aside, letting Jameson enter.

JJ paused, taking in the map and pins on the wall. “That’s…new,” he said slowly.

“I am trying a new approach to finding things,” Schneep explained. “What are you doing here?”

Jameson spun to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here? Why are you here? What is your point?” Schneep pressed. “I am having many visitors today, first Anti, then you. What is it? Are you two having a plan?”

“Whoa, hang on, slow down.” JJ raised his hands. “I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t seen you in…in a while, now. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well. I am doing fine, so you can go now.” Schneep turned his back to Jameson, walking up to the map. “Shut it.”

“I…I don’t think I said anything?” Jameson said, confused.

Schneep shook his head. “I know. Anyway, you can go now.”

Jameson stayed where he was. “Henrik…” His voice was soft. “Did you sleep…at all, recently?”

“What is with you people asking me that?!” Schneep suddenly yelled, pounding his fist against the wall. “I am fine!”

“That wasn’t my question.” Jameson approached Schneep, stopping within arm’s length. “You…you don’t look good.”

Schneep blinked idly. Dark circles, pale skin, a bit thin…it wasn’t a pretty picture. “Wie spät ist es?” He asked.

“I…I don’t know what you just said,” JJ confessed. “What is spät?”

“What time is it?” Schneep clarified.

Jameson looked at the wall-mounted clock. “It’s ten past two.”

Schneep’s eyes widened briefly, but then he covered it up. “I see.”

“Did you wake up early?” Jameson pressed. “Or…did you not go to sleep at all?”

“You also look like you did not sleep well, what does it matter?” Schneep’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “Nein.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, that doesn’t matter,” Jameson said dismissively. “Schneep, are you okay?”

His eyes flicked to the side again. “I am fine, you do not need to keep asking. Perhaps I am tired, but that is all. I have been drinking coffee, it is fine.”

“Of course you have,” Jameson muttered under his breath. “Henrik, you should really go to sleep. Take a nap.”

“I can’t.” Schneep looked at the map. “I am working on things.”

“They’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You do not know that.”

That was…an odd reaction. “Of course I do.” JJ tried for a laugh. “Things don’t just disappear.”

Schneep didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the map while occasionally flickering to the side, as if he was seeing something move in his peripheral vision.

Jameson stepped forward and placed his hand on Schneep’s shoulder. “Henrik—”

Schneep suddenly screamed. He grabbed Jameson by the wrist, still wearing his electric glove. The shock it sent through Jameson’s body was enough to stun him, so he couldn’t react when Schneep then flipped him over. He landed on the ground with an oof-inducing thump, his head solidly hitting the back of the sofa. He slumped, dazed.

“Mein Gott, Jameson, I-I am sorry!” Schneep was still standing, hand covering his mouth. He pulled off the electric glove and threw it over to the desk, where it landed. “I-I did not mean—! I thought—Jackie—”

“Jackie…?” Jameson sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Jackie?”

“I-I-I—” Schneep was shaking. “I thought he touched me! I thought it was mehr als ein Schatten! I—!”

“Henrik.” Jameson climbed to his feet, using the sofa as support. “Jackie’s not here.”

And Schneep suddenly started crying. “I know that! I know he is not here, but he is! A-and I do not want—! I do not want to stop seeing him!”

Jameson shook his head, bewildered. “Henrik, what are you talking about?”

Schneep buried his face in his hands. “I have been forgetting medication recently, it is making everything confusing!”

“You’re on medication? Hey, it’s okay.” Schneep had fallen to the floor, landing hard on his knees. Jameson knelt beside him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help. What’s wrong?”

Schneep grabbed Jameson’s arm. “I did not tell you,” he gasped in between tears. “I d-do not tell anyone. I told Marvin one time, I-I thought he would understand. I do not want anyone to thi-think the worst of me. I would never hurt anyone! Th-these things I see are not dangerous! He knows, the Distorter knows, he pokes fun at me, likes to make his illusions because he knows reality is alrea—sometimes I cannot tell—!”

“Hey, calm down, take deep breaths. I’ll do it with you. In for four…hold for seven…out for eight…in…hold…out…in…hold…out…” It took a few minutes for Schneep to get calm. Once he was fine, Jameson asked, “So…you take some kind of medication?”

Schneep nodded.

“And without it, you see things?”

Another nod.

“And you’ve been forgetting it, so you’re seeing Jackie?”

And another.

“Alright. I understand now.” Jameson nodded. “Henrik…there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Schneep whispered. “But I am worried others do not know that. That they will think I am…” He trailed off.

“Well, I think you’re a good person. You’re smart, and stubborn, and sarcastic, and…other adjectives that begin with S.” Jameson smiled when that got a laugh out of Schneep. “And this doesn’t change any of that.”

Tears started to gather in Schneep’s eyes again. He buried his face in Jameson’s shirt.

“See? It’s okay. It’s all okay.” For a moment they were silent. Then Jameson said, “I think you should go to bed now. But not before taking that medication you’ve been missing.”

Schneep nodded. “Stay with me, a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

He had time to.
.............................................................................................

Jameson arrived at the theatre for rehearsal. He had not been expecting to spend an extra two hours at Schneep’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to leave while his friend was upset. Even if that friend had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes and hadn’t shown any signs of waking up in all the two hours he was there.

Jameson paused before entering the theatre, leaning against the wall. A few deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. The weight was pressing down, not on his spine or his head, but directly on his mind. But he had to go to rehearsal. Everyone was expecting him. He couldn’t skip one. He couldn’t let down all the crew members that needed to run through everything. And if they missed one, that could delay the show and disappoint the audience. He couldn’t do that. He had to show up. Run through the show. It was only another three hours. He could do it.

It was not encouraging when his stage manager Darla greeted him with a “Where have you been?! You’re ten minutes late!”

“Things came up,” Jameson said. “Now are we ready to start?”

“Yeah, of course.” Darla nodded. “You left your cape and mask here last time, we brought them out, check with Ryan.”

“Got it.” He…hadn’t actually realized he’d left his mask and cape at the theatre. Well it was a good thing the others had found it, and he hadn’t had to drive back home, look for it, not find it, only to drive back and find his stuff already here. He would hate to waste everyone’s time.

Things went smoothly for the first hour. But it was when they all reconvened after a ten-minute break that things started to turn for the worse. For whatever reason, the lights wouldn’t work, and the techies took twenty minutes to figure out the problem. Just when they thought it was fixed, the main spotlight flickered and died. “It’s fine, we’ll just run it without that one,” Jameson said, sighing. He blinked, lingering in the darkness for a while, before opening them and returning to the busy world.

Then he was having trouble remembering his planned lines. True, being a magician didn’t involve nearly as much memorization as being a stage actor, but it was still more than most people thought. Not to mention, it often involved more timing, as you had to get the line to match up perfectly with the trick or it loses all dramatic effect.

Oh yes, the tricks. Jameson’s tricks were a clever combination of real magic and stage magic, a fine balance between the two. Of course, the crew didn’t know about the REAL magic. They just thought it was some wonderful light tricks and digital effects. So when they magic came out strained, because Jameson had spent three hours trying out new spells earlier that day and was a little lower on energy, that meant the rehearsal was delayed for an entire half hour while the crew tried to fix technical devices that didn’t actually work. Guilt was curdling in Jameson’s stomach. He was making everyone stay late.

And indeed, the time was 8:23 pm and it didn’t look like the rehearsal was anywhere close to being finished. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to well. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Sure, he was tired and his head felt heavy with the events of the day. It didn’t matter. These things weren’t important. What was important was everyone else’s thoughts and feelings. Not his.

“Alright, one more time!” Darla called out. “Start from the levitation trick!”

That trick was…well, tricky. Levitation magic didn’t come naturally to him. Jameson took a deep breath, adjusted his mask, and shouted, “Ready!”

The objects he was levitating—just wooden cubes for now, probably to be replaced with something else in the actual show—were placed on the tables around the stage. Jameson blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to focus. He chanted the words under his breath, feeling the strain of magic. Like trying to stretch a barely-used muscle after you’d already been working out for half an hour. Focus. Concentrate. Watch the blue magic float around the target, watch them wobble, then lift, slowly, trembling in the air—

“It snapped!”

“Backdrop’s coming down!”

“Watch out!”

The shouts snapped him out of concentration, sending the cubes crashing to the ground. Jameson whirled around to see the painted backdrop crashing down as well, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it where it landed. The shouts of the crew members faded into buzzing background noise.

He could fix this.

He could fix it, he could help.

It was alright.

It was fine, he could help.

He could—

He felt his heart burning cold.

Tears slipped from his eyes, from under his mask, only to freeze the moment they left his face, shattering on the floor.

The buzzing background noise was growing louder, louder, it was a storm inside his head, thoughts whirling in a whiteout of feelings he couldn’t name, he was tired, he was so so tired, tired of this, tired of everything—

A blizzard exploded on the stage.

Wind howled, blue chips of cold magic swirling around him in a storm, a storm, a storm. Beneath his feet the wood of the stage groaned as the temperature dropped, glowing icicles of freezing magic jabbing from the ground. He’d fallen to his hands and knees. All he could see was blue and white and blue and white and blue and white—

Someone was shouting. He was vaguely aware of the sound through the screaming gales in his mind. The magic storm swirled taller, reaching the lights above and freezing their bulbs until they burst.

Someone was in front of him. He could see their shape in the fog of the magic flakes. They grabbed him by the arms, started shaking. He didn’t respond. Just stared. Tears were still slipping down, freezing his mask to his face.

Slowly, a voice started to pierce the winds. “—Jems! You can’ keep t’is up, you’ll hurt someone! Yourself, too! Jems! Look at me!”

Jameson’s eyes focused on the someone in front of him. A familiar face. Marvin. “Are you alrigh’, Jems?” he asked.

And Jameson shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head again. How was he supposed to say so much? How was he supposed to explain about how he was being crushed? Crushed first by Jackie going missing, by Distorter being out there and ready to fuck with them at any time, and the other magicians wouldn’t or couldn’t help, so he had to do it on his own, he had to make sure his friends were safe from this creature, he had to learn some way to keep him at bay, and he had to be there for everyone else, had to listen to all their problems, had to make breakfast in the morning after Marvin had another nightmare, had to bring food and anything that could help to Rama and Michelle who’d just lost a husband and a father who might not come back, had to figure out what was wrong with Anti, had to check on Schneep because he was in danger of working himself to death while being attacked by his own mind, he had to do all this and it was crushing him, it was killing him, he couldn’t handle everyone’s problems as well as his own, couldn’t hold their grief and his too, but it didn’t matter didn’t matter shouldn’t matter should it matter? couldn’t matter in the face of all—

Oh. Oh, Marvin was hugging him. He was shivering, in the face of this cold storm coming from Jameson, but he was still hugging him. There was frost forming on his jacket, but he wasn’t leaving.

Jameson leaned his head on Marvin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend. His shoulders started to shake. But the storm died down, ice covering the stage melted into nothing. Things were warm again.

“We’re goin’ to go home,” Marvin said in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’re goin’ to go home. And we’ll relax tonight, and tomorrow, too.”

Jameson started to shake his head. He couldn’t let Marvin worry about him—

“Yes, we are.” Marvin stood up, still holding Jameson close. “You do a lot for others, Jems. Let someone else do somet’ing for you.”

That…that sounded really nice. Jameson grabbed the fabric of Marvin’s jacket, clinging to it. He nodded.

“Alrigh’. Let’s go. C’mon, one step at a time.”

One step at a time.

They took the bus back, since Marvin wouldn’t let JJ drive. Once home, Marvin tried to cook. He did better than expected. They turned on the television in the living room, with Marvin in his usual chair and JJ lying on the sofa, underneath a blanket. The cat took the opportunity to fall asleep on him. And eventually, JJ found he was drifting off as well.

Maybe…maybe it did matter.

Maybe he should let it matter.

JJ fell asleep, feeling warmer now knowing that there would be others still there when he woke up.