Part Thirteen of the PW Timeline
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a complete series I wrote from July 2019 to July of 2022. Chase gets some positive news for once, Laurens and Schneep have their first proper session since her return, and Anti finds out more about this group of friends.]
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Chase woke up at two in the afternoon. Well technically, he was awake at twelve, but lied in bed for another couple hours before actually getting up. “Oh my gooood.” He squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. Why couldn’t he get up at a normal time lately? At least today he had an excuse because he had the kids over yesterday. Saturdays to Mondays, that was the agreement. And Stacy wasn’t ready to renegotiate it.
They’d talked about that last night, when she came to pick them up. “Chase, I know this isn’t…ideal,” she said in a low voice. “But look around. Your fridge is empty, things are scattered around the house in a mess, and, please correct me if I’m wrong, but I…haven’t heard anything about a job or anything.” She sighed. “It’s not even really up to me, you know. Courts.”
“No, no, I get it,” Chase had replied. “It makes sense.”
“We can work things out once things are more settled.”
Well, now he was lying in bed and feeling bad, which was a step down from lying in a bed feeling tired, so he decided to get up and shower. It had been a while since that happened, and he couldn’t go to his one outing he’d planned today like that. He rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, ate a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and he felt a little better.
It really did make sense to have the kids spend most of their time with their mom. Chase knew he hadn’t exactly been…kept-together recently. And by “recently,” he meant for about the past two years. Sophie and Nick needed a parent who could actually put energy into raising them. He could do that, eventually. If he worked on it. “Positive thoughts, Chasey boy,” he said under his breath. “Be optimistic.”
Okay, that was enough of that for now. He had something to do. But before he did that, he checked his phone for any texts. Marvin sent a video of Luna and Ragamuffin being cute, that was nice. Nothing else. Alright, no more stalling. He grabbed his jacket and cap and headed out to the car.
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He stepped into the hospital just as visiting hours were starting. By now he had hospital check-in routines down to muscle memory. He was signing his name on the check-in clipboard when he was interrupted by a loud voice: “Ah, Mr. Brody! Good to see you again.”
Chase jumped a bit, then turned around. “Oh. Hi, Dr. Emerson.”
The doctor was a tall man with a thick beard. Chase had always thought he looked more like a Viking than one of the city’s best…well, he couldn’t remember what exact field the doctor was a specialist in, all he knew was it had something to do with whatever had gone wrong with Jack. Brains or nerves or something. “So soon, huh?” Dr. Emerson said, chuckling. “No, I understand.”
“Uhhh…” Was Chase missing something? The last time he’d been here was two weeks ago. “O…kay?”
“Well, don’t show too much enthusiasm.” Dr. Emerson raised an eyebrow. “Are you still confused, then?”
“Confused about wh—I mean I am confused, because I don’t know what to be confused about.” That was starting to sound less and less like a word.
“Ah.” Emerson’s smile faltered. “Do you not remember what I told you yesterday?”
“I wasn’t here yesterday,” Chase said, his voice slowly rising as nerves creeped up on him. “What are you talking about?”
Now Emerson looked as baffled as Chase felt. “I…think there’s been some misunderstanding here.”
“Y’know, I’m gonna, uh, go to Jack’s room.” Chase started walking away, down the hall towards the ICU wing. “You can, uh, come with me and tell me what happened yesterday while we go.”
Emerson followed. As the two of them waited at the elevator, he started explaining. “Well, about this time yesterday, you walked in, checked in just like you did, and went up to the room.” The elevator arrived with a ding, and the two of them stepped inside. Chase pressed the button for the third floor and listened as the doctor continued. “Of course, I only assume this part, since you wrote your name on the visitor’s slip. I was already in the room, and that’s when I told you about the change in Jack’s condition—”
“I’m sorry, what?!” Chase shouted.
“My god, man, you can be loud when you want,” Emerson said, taking a step away. “Anyway, yes, his GCS score went up.”
“I…don’t know what that means,” Chase said, staring at him in shock. The elevator dinged again, but he didn’t even step out.
“That’s what you said yesterday,” Emerson said. He made an ‘after you’ gesture, and Chase finally stepped out, now following Emerson as he walked down a familiar hallway. “Then you said you would look it up later, and I left you with Jack.”
“None of this happened,” Chase said, clenching his shaking hands into fists. “This did not happen, I-I was busy all day yesterday.”
“Well, could it have been one of your friends?” Emerson asked. “You do all look similar, don’t you? Though I don’t understand why he’d pretend to be you.”
Chase fell silent. He knew that neither Marvin or JJ would do something like that. But there was someone who might. Anti. In fact, hadn’t Anti done the same thing once before? Pretended to be Marvin visiting the hospital? But why? Jack didn’t have anything to do with any of this. He had no idea what Anti was planning, and that led his mind to the worst case scenarios.
They arrived at Room 309, and Chase reached forward to open the door. “Oh wait,” Dr. Emerson interrupted, placing a hand on the door. “I should probably tell you about the changes. I would have yesterday, but you—or, er, your friend saw first.”
“Okay, so what are theys?” Chase asked. “These changes. What’s a GCS? Is that some sort of fancy brain wave or something?”
Emerson chuckled. “No, it’s not actually anything in the body. GCS stands for Glasgow Coma Scale, it’s a way to describe someone’s level of consciousness after brain trauma. I suppose I’ve been so used to talking about it with others in the department that I forgot I had to explain it.”
“Yes, that would be appreciated,” Chase prompted.
“Well, the GCS measures three factors: eye opening, verbal response, and motor response. Each of these are measured on a scale, and when combined there’s a highest possible score of 15. Mr. McLoughlin’s has recently raised from the lowest possible score, three, to a five.”
“And that’s good,” Chase clarified.
“Yes, it is very good.” Emerson smiled. “I’ll be honest with you, Chase, it’s been over a year, and things weren’t looking good for Jack’s recovery. This is a huge development.”
Chase nodded. “R…right.” He grabbed the doorknob and swung it open, stepping inside.
The room looked the same as ever. Jack looked the same as ever. Chase hesitated, then walked up next to the bed. And then the difference was clear. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jack opened his eyes.
Chase had to stop and process what he was looking at. His eyes were open. He was looking at him. “I…oh my god.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh my god, Jack?”
“He can’t respond, Chase.” Emerson walked up next to him. “He hasn’t reacted to anything verbally or through motion. Just the eyes, and it’s not spontaneous. Only to sound.”
“Oh.” Chase nodded, slowly lowering his hand. “Can he hear us?”
“Well, we have no way of knowing,” Emerson explained. “It could only be an automatic response, he could be hearing us but not comprehending what we say, or he could be listening to everything.” He paused. “You understand that a GCS score of five is still very low, yes? Anything below an eight is still considered to be a coma.”
“Right…” Chase took another step closer, reaching down to touch Jack’s hand. Still, it was an improvement, and at this point, he’d take any sign of change for the better. It had been so long since he last saw his friend smile…talked to him…perhaps eventually, he’d be able to do that again. But as the hopeful thought arose, it was brought back down by a sinking feeling. He looked over at Emerson. “Hey doc, this is important. I didn’t come to visit yesterday. My friends didn’t either. There’s…” he hesitated. “There’s someone else. He’s been following us, a-and I don’t know what he wants, but it’s most likely not…good.”
Emerson turned pale. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah, the police know about this guy.” Even though he hadn’t told them that he thought Anti was stalking them…well, at least they knew he existed. He wasn’t sure if he should tell them, after all, he didn’t have much proof. “So you have to be careful, okay? I-I’ll tell my friends, we need to find a way for you to make sure it’s us and not him…” He looked back down at Jack. Nobody was more vulnerable than someone in a coma.
“I’ll wait outside, we can discuss this later,” Emerson said. “After you’re done here.”
Chase nodded. Emerson left, footsteps retreating, and Chase didn’t turn around as he heard the door shut. He squeezed Jack’s hand tighter. “Sorry you got caught up in this,” he muttered. “I don’t know what he’d want from you. I mean, Anti popped up in our lives after you went through all this. Or, well, JJ knew him.” He pulls over the chair, sitting down. “Yeah, uh, this Anti guy. He’s bad news. He kidnapped Schneep, and like…all those bad things I told you about, that he was accused of, it was actually Anti, and Schneep got framed. I guess it’s easy to scapegoat a guy who can’t even confirm he really saw you.” He paused. “He’s got Jackie too. The police are looking for him, so I guess there’s a better chance of finding Jackie now that they know where he is. Also. The craziest thing about this is that Anti is JJ’s brother.” He laughed dryly. “God, what a coincidence, huh? Maybe fate does exist. And it’s a dick.”
He goes quiet, watching Jack. After a few minutes of silence, his eyes started to close. “Y’know I really do hope you can hear me, and you’re listening,” Chase said. Jack’s eyes automatically opened wide again. “Because then you could tell us what Anti was doing here yesterday. It would be…I guess it would make me feel a bit better, to at least know.” He took a deep breath. “But you know what? It’s gonna be okay. Eventually. It might take a while, and I’ll be honest, right now is kind of sucky, but it’s gonna get better eventually. Y’know what you used to say, positive mental attitude. The viewers are really liking that, by the way. They still miss you, of course, but I’m keeping on. But on the track of positivity, at least Schneep’s first doctor is back, so he’ll be okay, I think. Marvin’s doing good, too. JJ…well, he was freaking out a bit, about Anti…I don’t want to make assumptions, but at best, they didn’t get along, and now he’s here, so it would freak anyone out. But he’s doing a bit better, I think. Yeah. It’s all getting better. Slowly.” He blinked furiously. “For everyone else. That…that’s great.”
For a moment, he thinks he feels Jack’s fingers move. Not like they were squeezing his hand, but a movement nonetheless. He looks down, surprised, but he doesn’t think anything’s changed. Maybe he imagined it. But in any case…“Hah. Y’know I can practically hear you giving me a lecture on self-care. Yeah, I’m trying, bro. Still in a bit of a gray spot. I really am happy that everyone else is doing good, it just kinda sucks when you’re in that gray spot, you know? But I am great and I’ll get through it. Yeah.” He didn’t really believe that, but Marvin had told him that saying positive things about yourself was the first step to believing them. “I just…miss you, Jack. Don’t want anything to happen to you.”
For the rest of the visit, he goes quiet, watching the heart monitor rise and fall. Things were crazy, but it would be fine. It would be.
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Dr. Laurens had rescheduled her sessions to be later in the day. Because quite frankly, she wanted to sleep in. And judging by the records Newson had left, the past sessions had gone all over the place in terms of what time they took place, so it wasn’t like she was interrupting a schedule. It was shortly before five o’clock when she met up with Oliver and they headed to Room 1010.
When Laurens opened the door, she saw Schneep was standing up and pacing the length of the back wall. Oliver handed her the paper cup with the medication inside, then went over to stand in the corner and try to attract as little attention as was possible for someone over six feet tall. Laurens nodded encouragingly, and walked forward. “Schneep?” She said, putting a confident tone in her voice. “Are you ready?”
Schneep jumped, and whirled around. Wariness faded away to happiness. “So it IS you,” he said. “You are back. Unless this is not real too…”
“No, it’s real,” Laurens said, smiling. “I’m back. Dr. Newson won’t be handling your case anymore.” She’d actually briefly passed Newson when coming in, but hadn’t really stopped to chat. Newson briefly mentioned having an appointment with her lawyer after leaving, but Laurens hadn’t pushed. She already knew about the lawsuit anyway.
“Oh thank god,” Schneep said, relieved. “She was not…helpful.”
“That is the least you could say,” Laurens muttered. “Anyway, before we get started, I need you to…well, there’s this.” She set the paper cup down on the table.
Schneep paled, backing up. “No no no no, I have a clear head, I have energy, I will not—”
“There are no sedatives in this,” Laurens hurried to say. “I promise.” It was messed up that she had to clarify that. “It shouldn’t have that effect, and if it does, please let me know so that I can change it.” Schneep didn’t move any closer. “Dr. Newson had you taking an improper medication with much too high a dosage, so you’ll have to slowly ease off it and onto a medication that should be better.”
Schneep hesitated for a moment longer before stepping forward, picking up the paper cup, and swallowing the pill inside in one gulp. “If this is not…” He trailed off.
“It’ll be fine,” Laurens said reassuringly. “If it isn’t, you have to tell me so I can fix it, okay. Now.” She sat down on the room’s chair. “I think it’s important to give you an update.” She waited for Schneep to sit on the bed before continuing. “So, it appears as though I’ve been misunderstanding your condition. In that you actually have two of them.”
“Oh?” Schneep blinked, genuinely surprised.
“Yes.” Laurens automatically reached for her journal, before remembering that she’d given it to Oliver. He’d told her yesterday that he gave it to Schneep’s friend Chase, and she had yet to ask him for it back. She was now working with some loose sheets of paper, which she spread on the table. “You are aware of your schizoaffective disorder, but now that I know more about what’s happened to you, I believe you also have some post-traumatic stress disorder.”
Schneep paused. “Ah.”
She waited for a stronger reaction, but didn’t receive one. “Yes. So that will change our approach from now on.”
“Alright,” Schneep said slowly. “Is there medication for it?”
“We’re still focusing on getting you off the last one,” Laurens explained. “But perhaps I could give you some anti—” Schneep flinched “—anxiety medication later. But it can’t be treated solely with that. You understand that, right?”
Schneep nodded slowly. “What happened to your arm?”
“A-ah…well…” Laurens hesitated. “Obviously I broke it. Dislocated my wrist, too.”
“How?”
“Well…” Laurens hesitated. She didn’t know what effect it would have on Schneep if he knew everything that happened with her and Anti and Jackie. The last thing she wanted right now was to upset him. And besides, she didn’t really want to talk about it anyway. “I’ll tell you some other time, okay? For now, I want to focus on you.” She shuffled her papers. “Schneep…there’s no way to ease into this that won’t alarm you, so I’m just going to say it. Do you know Anti?”
The effect was immediate. Schneep jumped, scooting backwards on the bed. “Do not say the name!”
“Why not?” Laurens asked. “You told me once that this would give him power, right? That giving him attention would make him stronger?”
Schneep nodded, looking significantly paler.
“Well, here’s where things are difficult, Schneep,” she said patiently. “I believe that he’s a major source of trauma for you.” Because why wouldn’t he be? Laurens remembered all the things Jackie had told her about what happened to the two of them, and that would give anyone trauma. “And we need to work that out, yeah? But we can’t do that if we can’t talk about him. So. Here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll be as indirect as possible. I’ll ask you about him, and you can give answers that are as short or as long as you see fit. If at any moment you feel like we are getting…you know, too close to giving him influence, tell me and we will stop. Does that work?”
He didn’t answer for a long time, shaking slightly, eyes darting around as if looking for something. Then he nodded slowly.
“Great.” Again, Laurens wished she had her journal full of notes. It would be a lot easier to reference past events. But she was stuck with this. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you said before that An—sorry, that he makes you hurt people. Am I right?”
Schneep nodded, starting to rock softly.
That made sense with what she knew. “Does he physically take control of you? How does this happen?”
“He…” Schneep’s voice cracked. “He puts…th-thoughts in my head…a-and makes me want…to…”
And that sounded familiar. Laurens made a note of that. “So…you have thoughts about wanting to hurt people, and this is caused by him?” This sounded like some form of intrusive or otherwise unwanted thoughts, and combined with his hallucinations and delusions, he believed Anti to be behind them.
Schneep nodded. “O-or he…he would say—tell me to do something horrible, and if I did—did not do it, he would do so-something worse.”
“But you clearly don’t want to hurt anyone, right?” Laurens asked.
“No!” Schneep protested. “I never—never! I-I may be angry with some people, maybe fight, but the th-things he makes me—” He buried his head in folded arms, taking deep breaths.
“Do you want us to stop?” Laurens asked gently.
He nodded without looking up.
“Schneep.” Laurens leaned forward. She waited until he looked at her before continuing. “You know this is not your fault, right? You’ve said that to me before. Any thoughts, any actions you may have done, it is not your fault.”
“I know that,” Schneep sounded a bit irritated. “I know that, i-it is him, I just—I still worry, I still…feel…”
“I know,” Laurens said softly. “Which is why I’m going to try to give you some ways to deal with this, okay? Some ways to cope.”
“That would be…appreciated,” he muttered.
“Good. Let’s begin.” This would be a good starting point, but that’s what it was, a starting point. Laurens could already see a long path ahead. The main problem here being that Anti wasn’t actually making any of these thoughts appear in Schneep’s head. But that had to come later down the road. There was still a lot to do before that.
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“Hey. Wake up.”
Jackie felt something kick his side and he winced, opening his eyes. Anti was standing in front of him, looking down. He stared up at him, tensed, waiting.
“Good,” Anti nodded. “It’s time to eat. Sit up straight.”
Jackie hurried to sit up, the movement making his spine crack. He’d taken to slouching, which probably wasn’t good for his posture when he was tied to a table leg.
Anti huffed, a bit impatient. He kneeled down next to Jackie, reaching around behind him. Jackie stiffened, very deliberately not moving even as he felt the handcuffs unlock. He’d tried to run once before. Schneep had encouraged it, almost demanded that Jackie get out even if it meant leaving him behind. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d listened. And he’d almost made it out of the house. But Anti caught him right at the end, and he hadn’t been happy. Jackie was pretty sure he had some burn scars on his arm from that day. And now, in such close quarters with Anti, who hadn’t left the apartment except for once yesterday, he didn’t want to risk it.
“Alright,” Anti muttered. He’d cuffed Jackie’s right arm to the table leg, letting his left one be free. Now he stood up, grabbing a plate and cup from the table, which he set down on the floor next to Jackie. A sandwich and a glass of milk. It would do. Anti sat down on the nearest chair and pulled out his phone, glancing at Jackie every few seconds. Jackie didn’t respond, just pulled out the gag and started eating. He should hurry.
All was silent for a few minutes. Until: “Wait, what?” Anti sat up straight, eyes scanning his phone again. “That’s—ugh.” He tapped the screen a couple times, then dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. Jackie could hear it ringing from here. The moment the call was picked up, Anti started talking. “Yeah, hi, it’s me. What the fuck?” There were the faint hints of a voice on the other end. “What, did you think I’d just forget your number? No. Now what the fuck is this on the website?” Anti paused. “I think you do know what I’m talking about. I told you, I don’t do repeats.” The voice on the other end sounded angry. “Well if he survived three stab wounds, I’d say he’s earned the right to live. Besides, he hasn’t told anyone, has he? That would’ve been on the news.” Pause. “I don’t do refunds either.”
Jackie couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was he talking about? It sounded like someone hired Anti as some sort of hitman. Was that what he did in his spare time? Or maybe that was his job and this serial killer stuff was just a fun side project for him. Jackie shuddered at the thought of it.
“Well boo-fuckity-hoo for you.” Anti drawled. “Look, I get not wanting loose ends, but I’m done here. I’m busy, I have shit to do, and the cops know about me now.” A long pause as the voice on the other end talked for a while. Anti raised an eyebrow. “Give me two hundred pounds right now and I’ll consider it.” Loud shouting from the other end. “Don’t give me that shit, that’s spare change for you. Tell you what, I’ll check out the guy’s house, too.” Pause. “Yeah, if I decide I want to.” Long pause. “Great. What’s the address again?” Short pause. “No, I didn’t, that would be insane. It was a lot easier to ambush him while he was out. What’s the address.” Another pause. Anti’s eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, really?” The other voice said something angry. “It’s none of your business. But I’m checking my account now, if the number doesn’t go up by two hundred in the next five minutes, I’m not even gonna think about it.” He hung up the call unceremoniously, and started swiping about on the phone screen again.
Well that was…interesting. Jackie stared at Anti as he seemed to wait for something, eyes glued to his phone. After a short while, he grinned, and looked away, immediately seeing Jackie. He glared. “What’re you looking at, hoodie?”
Jackie flinched and looked away, stuffing the last bit of sandwich into his mouth.
“That’s what I thought.” Anti stood up and disappeared through a doorway, into what Jackie assumed was the bedroom area. A few minutes later he returned, wearing a gray hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He crouched on the floor next to Jackie. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” He chuckled. “No, of course not.” He grabbed Jackie’s wrist and yanked it around the table leg, causing him to cry out. Click. The handcuffs were back in place. Before Jackie could even process that, Anti was shoving the gag back in his mouth, sudden enough to make him choke a bit. “Of course, if you’re not here when I get back…” Anti didn’t have to finish that sentence.
After a moment of staring into Jackie’s eyes, making sure he got the point, Anti stood up and headed out, slamming the front door behind him.
Jackie flinched, then exhaled slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. Alone. Anti would be back soon, of course, but he’d enjoy this while it lasted. Trying to relax as much as he was able while in this awkward position, he tried to drift away in the relieving silence.
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Anti knew this address.
He drove there, parking some ways away and walking the rest of the way. The neighborhood immediately looked familiar, and by the time he reached the address, he knew where he was going, and wasn’t surprised to stop outside the house of Marvin Maher.
Marvin wasn’t someone he was particularly interested in. He knew enough to get a grasp on him…which was admittedly a lot. 28 years old, Irish, currently unemployed, no living relatives aside from his grandmother, has two cats and a snake, and was a practicing Wiccan. Though those were just the facts. In personality, Marvin was stubborn, loud, very visible with his emotions, and had some difficulty in social situations.
And again, though that was a lot, Anti wasn’t particularly interested in him. Not compared to the other one, Chase. Ironic, considering that for all intents and purposes, Chase lived a much less exciting life. He didn’t go anywhere, had an ex-wife and kids, and ran two YouTube channels for “work:” his own channel, BroAverage, and the one that belonged to his coma-bound friend, jacksepticeye. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so ordinary, stuck in this extraordinary situation, that fascinated him.
But he wasn’t here to find out more about Chase. Anti wasn’t usually one to try again on a job, since it increased his chance of being found, and anonymity was his greatest shield. He’d only decided to consider it due to already being known to the police in this city—a fact that he cursed that doctor lady for every day since she escaped. But now, realizing who his target was made this much more interesting.
Anti circled around the house, scouting it. Looking into the rooms, it appeared empty. All the windows were locked pretty securely, as was the front door…but not so much the side door. He twisted the knob and pulled it open. It looked like a chest of drawers had been pressed against the door from the other side, perhaps to prevent it from opening. He chuckled. This door had a spring hinge; it swung both ways. It also didn’t appear to have a functioning lock. Good, he was happy he didn’t have to pick his way inside and risk someone noticing that.
He pushed the chest of drawers to the side and entered the house, finding himself at the end of a hallway with a door to the left and right. Once inside, he carefully pulled the door shut and replaced the drawers; he could find another exit. The hall opened up into a living room. Anti walked down, careful to tread only where the carpet was worn down so his footsteps wouldn’t stand out. The living room was about normal, its main feature being the snake terrarium. He stared at the snake inside for a bit, but it appeared to be asleep. Huh, he didn’t know snakes could be purple. Mentally making a note to look that up later, he noticed another hallway branching off the living room, and was about to head there when something caught his eye.
A turquoise notebook was lying on the coffee table, looking quite out of place with the rest of Marvin’s decorations. Odd. Was that someone else’s? Anti frowned, and idly picked it up, skimming the pages. There was something tucked inside…a plastic keycard? He looked over the handwritten notes, not paying much attention until he saw a familiar name: Schneep.
He immediately started paying attention to this journal. What was this? He flipped back to the beginning, seeing a name written on the inside cover: Dr. Rya Laurens.
That doctor lady. Anti narrowed his eyes. Was this her notebook? Why did Marvin have it? What was in it? Was he mentioned in it anywhere?
He took his backpack off his shoulders and slid the notebook and its keycard inside. And then he looked up, and happened to glance out the window. Luckily he did in time, because he saw people coming up the front path.
Instinct kicked in and he looked around for the nearest exit. The back window. It only had a latch to lock it. Quickly he ran over, threw it open, and jumped outside, closing it behind him. Now in the backyard, he stayed low, backing up.
Once he was pressed against the fence of the house behind this one, Anti dared to straighten just enough to look through the window into the living room. It appeared as though Marvin had come home. He’d also brought a friend, the only one of the group that he didn’t actually know the name of. That annoyed him. But he just hadn’t seen the others with him that often, and looking up Chase and Marvin on social media, this guy didn’t appear in many photos, and the ones he did show up in never mentioned him by name or tagged an account. All he knew about this last friend was that he had a nice mustache and spoke BSL.
He watched as Marvin set a folder down on the coffee table, apparently not noticing the missing notebook. Marvin started talking with his friend, the two of them signing quickly. Anti huffed. God, it had been so long since he’d had to understand sign language. Not since—Anti stiffened, and pushed that thought away.
The point was, now this group would be forcing him to relearn it. He watched the two inside have an animated conversation, picking up the word ‘doctor’ a lot. It didn’t seem like an argument, but it was very…passionate. Expressions changed rapidly. Marvin made a sign, the letter J twice in a row—
Anti froze, staring. Not caring if he was visible.
He had to have imagined that, didn’t he? Marvin couldn’t have just made that sign. But no, he’d seen that, clear as day. But maybe…maybe the sign meant something different in this context. It couldn’t be…
He looked more closely at the friend he didn’t know the name of. This whole group looked similar, looked like him. That was weird, but it didn’t…didn’t mean…
The friend leaned forward, and something silver flashed. A silver disk on a matching chain around his neck. Anti stared at it, and reached up to where he wore a similar disk on a chain. He’d recognize that anywhere. It wasn’t just a silver circle, it was a watch, and he now grabbed his tightly.
Well, it wasn’t his, technically. It was his brother’s.
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“So how do names work in sign language, then?” Aneirin asked. “Are you supposed to sign them all out? With letters?”
Jameson picked up his pencil and started writing, showing him the result. 'Goodness, no, that would take forever. There are these things called name signs, which are unique sign combinations for people. Those are their names.'
They were sitting in the living room of Aneirin’s house, legs pulled up onto the old sofa he’d gotten from the side of the road. It was in pretty good condition, for one that had a ‘Free’ sign taped to it. Eighteen and a homeowner would’ve been impressive for anyone else, but Aneirin had sped through the steps to getting it, knowing he needed a place to stay as soon as possible. He was sure that if the realtor knew where he’d gotten the money to pay for it, he never would’ve sold it to him.
“Okay, so what would mine be, then?” Aneirin asked, spreading out along the length of the sofa. “Do I get to choose it?”
Jameson considered this, and Aneirin watched him silently. His little brother was sixteen, and very thin and small, pulling into the corner of the sofa like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. 'Well, I think I have an idea for what I could call you. You can tell me if you don’t like it.' He made the sign for the letter A, and followed it with another sign, curling his hands into fists and rubbing them against each other.
“Well, it depends on what it means,” Aneirin joked.
Jameson chuckled a bit. 'It’s just the letter A followed by the sign for “brother.”'
“Oh.” Aneirin gasped softly. Then a wide smile broke across his face. “Yeah, I like that.” He paused. “Do you have one?”
'Yes! I chose one, but no one’s ever used it.' He signed the letter J twice.
Aneirin blinked. “That’s it? That’s just…JJ.”
'Well it’s my initials,' Jameson pointed out. 'I like the sound of it.'
“Okay,” Aneirin said slowly. He copied the sign. “But when would I ever need to call you that? Instead of just saying it.”
'You are saying it, just in sign,' Jameson wrote. 'But I thought that, if you can’t talk after a bad seizing, you could use BSL.'
“Uh…no, I don’t think so.” Aneirin frowned. “The problem is that after a seizure I’m confused. It’s not that I can’t talk because my muscles don’t work, but cause I don’t know where the fuck I am.”
'Oh. Well, think about it,' Jameson said. 'You need to at least learn it to understand me.'
“Yeah, I know.” Aneirin smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be easy.”
.............................................................................................
“Jamie! Don’t walk away from me!”
Jameson whirled on him. 'Don’t call me that!'
“What? Jamie?” Aneirin blinked. “That’s your name!”
'It’s a nickname,' Jameson signed furiously. 'And it’s a childish one.'
“Oh, what, I can’t call my little brother a nickname now?” Aneirin scoffed.
'That’s not just it!' Jameson protested. 'I’m not a kid, Aneirin! I’m twenty-one years old, I am an adult, and you don’t treat me like it.'
“Okay, yes, legally that’s true,” Aneirin said. “But there’s more to being an adult than age. There’s experience. I mean, look at you. You can’t drive, you don’t have a job, you’ve never dated anyone. There’s just a lot that you don’t understand.”
'I don’t know how to drive because you never taught me!' Jameson stepped up to Aneirin, throwing his hands in his face. 'I don’t have a job because you won’t let me get one! And you’ve never dated anyone either, so I don’t see how you can say anything about that. And even if you had, you turn away every guy I’m interested in. You go through my messages to make sure I don’t say anything “inappropriate” in my own private messages! I need to live my own life, Aneirin.'
“I…” Aneirin was at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time Jameson had gotten this angry, and it was never directed at him. “Look, you’re…twenty-one is still pretty young, and with your condition—”
'You’re only two years older than me,' Jameson signed sharply. 'And don’t talk to me about how my disability means I can’t handle most jobs, I’m sick of hearing it from you. You can’t expect me to help you dispose of a body and at the same time say I couldn’t deal with working in an office. And it’s absurd that you involve me in the former in the FIRST PLACE!'
Aneirin shook his head silently. What was there to say to this? What was there to say when his little brother was angry with him? With words failing, he fell upon action. And he started crying.
Jameson’s expression, previously so furious, turned to shock. Aneirin didn’t cry. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. The sight was concerning. 'No no, don’t—it’s okay, it’s fine,' Jameson hurried to sign.
“I just—just don’t want anything—I just want you to be safe,” Aneirin gasped, vision blurring with tears. “I’m trying—trying to make sure you’re safe, a-and happy, and…am I failing? Am I a bad brother?”
'No, you’re a good brother,' Jameson reassured him. 'You just…made some mistakes.'
“I’m just—th-this is dangerous, what I do.” Aneirin looked down, hiding his eyes in his hands. “People could—could come after you, to get to me, and—and I can’t let that happen, Jamie, JJ, I can’t—I’m sorry if you think I’m stifling you or something, I just—”
'Hey, it’s fine, it’s fine. Really. I just…had some things to get off my chest.' Jameson put his hands on Aneirin’s shoulders reassuringly and smiled.
“Are you sure?” Aneirin asked, wiping his eyes.
'Yes, it’s fine,' Jameson signed. 'We can talk this over later, work things out. I’m sorry for upsetting you.'
“It’s alright, JJ,” Anti said, smiling.
.............................................................................................
It really should’ve been obvious from the start. What were the odds of him running into someone else who looked like him and spoke BSL? But the possibility hadn’t even occurred to Anti. Because for four years now, he’d thought his brother Jamie had been dead.
But he was wrong. Jameson wasn’t dead. Jameson was alive, and friends with Chase and Marvin and probably involved with all this, all Anti’s plans.
Anti backed up, then turned around and jumped over the fence into the house behind Marvin’s. He took off in a run.
.............................................................................................
The door slammed open, and Jackie startled awake. Anti stormed in, furious. Jackie tried not to cry out when his attention turned towards him, backing up as best as he was able.
“You.” Anti grabbed Jackie by the front of the hoodie and pulled out his gag. “Tell me this. Do you know a man named Jameson Jackson?”
Jameson? Jackie’s heart stopped. What did Anti want with him?
“Answer me!” Anti threw him backwards, and Jackie’s head slammed against the table with a painful crack. “Tell me if you know him or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one.”
“I do, I do,” Jackie gasped. “I know him.”
“How?” Anti demanded. “How do you know him?”
“We—we met him last October,” Jackie explained. “Marvin met him. At the theatre. They started talking, and—and we all met him.”
Anti stared at him a while longer, then suddenly let go, dropping him to the floor. Jackie felt his heart racing. He turned and watched Anti pacing the length of the room.
“Not expecting this,” Anti was muttering. “Unexpected—unexpected variable. Can’t control this. Can’t control for this.” He reached up and grabbed the watch around his neck. “It’ll work. Work around it. Work around—Jamie.” The last word was strong with emotion.
Anti hurried out of the room into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Jackie flinched. What was Anti planning? It…couldn’t be good for anyone. Especially not Jameson.
Well he couldn’t do anything about it in his current position. He was just worried about surviving. So Jackie tried to put it out of his mind. Yet…there was one thing he couldn’t forget. Had he been imagining it, or had there been tears in Anti’s eyes?