TheZot

Yep, Joe's a Joe. Maybe not exactly an average Joe (which should've been noted by now, so I guess I'll just have to do it in the chapter I've got open) but mostly average. I went to school with Joe and Steven and Stephen and Natalie and Megan and Cathy and... well, just people. Not special, in the grand scheme of things. Worthwhile people, all of them, but generally not extraordinary. Not gorgeous or phenomenally smart or super-powered. Just people who sometimes did stupid things but mostly meant well. I kinda like stories about just people, really. Perfection is a little tiresome after a while. It's more interesting to see mostly normal people dealing with unusual circumstances. Or usual circumstances in odd ways. Something like that. But people who you might actually have a real chance of knowing or dating or being, not fantastical cardboard cutouts.

Joe's responded in a number of different situations, some of which've been entirely reasonable. Joe's pretty passionate in general, and he is in love with Alex which works wonders for his libido, so how he's reacted to Alex (and Chris) in person isn't out of line. 'Specially in his apartment when Alex woke him up.

Yeah, well, you'll notice Joe got the hell out of there too. He's not stupid, some of those fireflies are carrying...

[i hadn't planned on writing this chapter. I was going to just skip to the next one. Well, okay, the one after that, since there's [i]another[/i] little chapter coming I can't skip. Best laid plans

Aw, c'mon, you know you deserve at least two kittens to bat that paper ball around. And now I'm gonna have to work in Forbidden Planet somehow. Just, y'know, 'cause. I can't say for sure if guys do or don't have an instant sexual reaction to someone over the phone, never having beein in that position. (Dammit!) I can see it happening, but it would be pretty unusual, and despite all the spooky stuff I'm trying to keep this thing real. Or at least realistic, and when I can't manage that, consistent.

[As I'm getting into this I'm realizing I need more work on the B storyline, which'd be the whole death thing. There should be a chapter before this one where Stephanie's family is found, and some of the boring really needs to get removed from this. So we're going back in time a little. Whee! This 'wednesday' is the day before Joe is in on the interview with Stephanie] Wednesday morning Chris Gagnon was sitting at his desk digging through the medical examiner's preliminary report on the O'Malley murders. It wasn't complete, since they were still waiting for the toxicology reports, but it was something to go on. The only witness they had was a terrified eight year old girl who wasn't in any shape to talk to them. By mutual consent Steve and Chris had decided not to push, but they couldn't hold off much longer. He shook his head. Despite what TV showed, murders like this were rare. There were all sorts of ways that people killed each other, but some sort of ritual? That wasn't normal. Unfortunately it was bad, since these things weren't normally one-offs. Chris was digging through the back files, looking for anything that might match. There wasn't much, locally. Normally a good thing, it meant there weren't all that many people getting killed in his town. For this, though, he'd almost welcome another case like it. Anything to give him more information. He had this nagging feeling that it was related to the murders four months ago. A young couple was killed at the Wildbrook apartment complex. It had looked like a revenge killing of some sort

[i bet you thought I'd forgotten about poor Alex! I think I need some connecting material with Chris and Steve, though] Friday afternoon Joe was still digging through the pile of evaluations on his desk. It was slow going, slower than normal. He'd been playing the events of the past week over in his mind. Everything was just so strange. A week ago he was happy and things were simple. Maybe they weren't picture perfect, but he had a quiet life he liked and a boyfriend he loved, and that was enough. He didn't have to deal with his past, or Alex's. Now his past had resurfaced, as had Alex's. His was ugly. Alex's

I dunno how much being a relative actually helps if you've never had any contact with the kids in question. (Nor knew of their existence) I'd assumed that it just didn't buy you anything beyond what a random stranger on the street would get -- possibly less, since that meant that you'd had no contact with the kid's other family either. Stephanie's got at least two uncles and an aunt on Joe's side of the family. I'm not sure about her mom's side, yet, but there are family who're at least in better contact with her. (Not that they're particularly swell, mind, but that's a separate issue) Now I'm feeling like I ought to call DCF and ask. Eeesh, fact checking...

That's true enough (and I'm not even gonna bother being coy here) but still it'd put things off a while, as the state wants (I think) relationships to be at least two years old before they consider you suitable for adoption or fostering. A not-unreasonable restriction, they don't want you in the middle of working your relationship out with your partner while you're working it out with a kid -- that's not good for your relationship or the kid. We'll see how things go, though. Joe's not going to want to lose touch, and I don't think the total time frame of the story's going to be more than a month. (We've only done a week so far, plus a few days) That means I can let it slide some and we can see what happens later... later.

Well... Unfortunately there are some issues. He's single. His longest relationship was two years long, a long time ago. (That's not been covered in the story, but it's there) He's never done anything with kids. He only knew she existed as of a week ago. He'd never met her mother or her siblings. He's been estranged from his (and therefore her) family for more than a decade. (fourteen years, but who's counting?) She's in need of a huge amount of intensive therapy. We could apply Story Logic here, but realistically there's no way in hell he'd have a chance. If he talked to the social worker she'd shoot him down easy, but he'd still be shot down. (As far as I know, at least in Connecticut, his being gay wouldn't necessarily be an issue -- if he were married to a guy it'd actually be a big plus, since the state likes stable long term relationships when placing kids) I like Joe as a character, and I think he'd make a really good dad, but being honest he's not in a situation to foster or adopt someone in Stephanie's position.

[in which Joe gets yelled at. I keep waiting for someone who's really a cop to tell me exactly how wrong this all is -- I've been winging it on common sense and chutzpah so far. I really, really hope the stats I'm pulling out of the air are wildly overstated for dramatic reasons too] Joe walked back to the rec room to see if there was anything else that Steve needed. Joe wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do. He felt numb and sick. His empty stomach hurt. His throat hurt. Steve was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, papers spread out. He had a battered laptop open and running. "You okay?" Steve asked. Joe looked like he'd been run over by a truck. Which, all things considered, he sort of had. Joe looked at him like he was insane. "No." Steve shrugged. The interview had kicked the shit out of him. He had a headache coming on, and like it or not Joe was going to have to figure out how to deal with it himself. Steve was having enough trouble of his own. Joe was a nice enough guy and all, and maybe he was dating Chris' crazy alter-ego, but he wasn't family. Not yet. "So what do you do with her next?" he asked. Steve shrugged. "Probably nothing." "Nothing? What do you mean nothing?" Joe was confused. "She's probably told us all she's going to," Steve said. He shuffled through the papers on the table and poked at his computer a little. "That's it then? You just drop her?" Joe sounded incredulous. He'd seen Steve with his kids, and Chris' kid. He couldn't believe Steve would just leave Stephanie. "No, of course not. Social services will take care of her." "That's not good enough! How can you sit there and, and

[i'll warn that things get a bit unpleasant in this one. I can't judge how bad, relative to the norm for the genre since I don't usually read this sort of stuff] Chris was speechless as Joe went into the room. Joe and Billy O'Malley being related wasn't anything that'd even occurred to him. The last names were different. Joe was slender while Billy was built like a fat biker. Joe was sophisticated and clever and attractive

Yes! Almost definitely! Almost...

Thanks everyone. I decided when I started this that societal homophobia just wasn't going to be a big issue. (I don't get it, I've never had to deal with it, and it's been done to death) Joe and Chris have family issues that we'll eventally touch on, but while they're both estranged in one form or another from their families, it doesn't have anything to do with their being gay. (Though Chris has some personal isues there, and Joe's pretty in-your-face about everything in part because of it) While it feels like it's taking forever to write, I have the advantage (of sorts) of an hour long train ride home every evening. Assuming I've got some space it's enough time to write maybe a thousand words or so, assuming I remembered to grab something to eat on the way out of the office in the evening. Who knows, maybe the draft'll be done by spring. (And there is good reason there's a set of tight connections between everyone, and it's not me being evil. Well, not just...)

[Ah, poor Joe. I've figured out the second plot. Bwahahahahahaha! *cough*] Joe parked on the street behind Steve's car, his little silver coup looking very out of place on the dingy corner. It wasn't one of the better parts of town, all old multi-story brick buildings that had been built back when this was the center of everything, before cars and the suburbs had killed it. The sign next to the door just said "Johnson House", and gave no indication what was inside. Joe opened it. Waiting for him was Chris Gagnon. He was dressed for work, in dress pants, a jacket that'd seen better years, and a white-ish dress shirt. He was carrying a manila folder. A shiver went down Joe's back and his hackles raised. "Detective Gagnon," he said. He was feeling formal. They certainly weren't friends. With the instant arguments and the kiss the past weekend he wasn't sure what they were, but it definitely wasn't friends. "Mister Hennesy," Chris said, matching Joe's formality. "Stephanie's upstairs." The formality helped. Chris had an urge to just grab Joe and shove his tongue down his throat. He fought that feeling down viciously. He wasn't going to do that. It had gotten him into far too much trouble in the past, and Alex had gotten him in even more that way. He wasn't Alex. He'd spent a lot of effort not being Alex, though he'd never admit it. Joe started up the stairs. Chris followed. He had his hands jammed in his pockets. It was the only way he could think to keep them from reaching up under the suit jacket and stroking Joe's ass. Stupid hands. Stupid jacket. Stupid pockets. Joe was oblivious to this. There was only one way to go, so that's the way he went. "Who's Stephanie?" Joe asked. He'd turned on the stairs to face Chris. The good thing about that was it took his back side out of Chris' view. The bad thing was it put his crotch there instead. Very bad, as there wasn't any coverage from the jacket. His reaction pissed him off. It didn't help that he still had a small headache from the morning's hangover. "Girl you found," Chris snapped. He regretted the tone, but he didn't feel like apologizing right then. "You figured out her name?" "We're detectives. Sometimes we detect things," Chris said. "Who'dve thought?" Joe winced inwardly as he said that. It sounded insulting. Hell, it was insulting. Chris chose to ignore it, though it stung. "Her parents were separated. We haven't located any relatives on her mother's side. We're still looking for the father." "He dead too?" Joe asked as they got to the top of the stairs. Chris snorted. "No, just an asshole. Six months behind on his child support." Joe looked around. The stairs went up another two floors, but Chris wasn't pushing to go up another flight. This was mostly because he was fighting to not notice how the light material of Joe's dress pants fit his legs. It was such a good thing Joe was wearing that suit jacket. Between the hangover and the dreams and Toby's spells he was feeling like crap. Chris wasn't sure how much self-control he had. "Great," Joe said. Chris' struggles went unnoticed. "Where now?" "Rec room at the end of the hall," "So who is he? Or can't you tell me that?" "It's not a secret, not for something like this." Chris dug around in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his notebook. His head was throbbing something fierce, and he wasn't thinking all that well. He flipped through a few pages, buying time. "He's Billy O'Malley," Chris said after he found the right page. "A.K.A William J. O'Malley. Sometimes 'Studs' O'Malley. Has a string of priors, mostly DUI or drunk and disorderly." Joe whirled and stared at Chris. "William James O'Malley? Thirty four? Five nine, red hair, worthless piece of shit?" Chris recoiled a little from the venom in Joe's voice. "Maybe. He's bald in the pictures we have." He opened the folder and took out a picture. It was a family photo, a few years old. A woman, maybe thirty, looking a little worn, was holding a small child. Two girls were standing next to her, one on either side. The older of the two was Stephanie, the younger must've been her sister the resemblance was so strong. And to their left was Billy. Bald, wearing a t-shirt and black leather vest. He was bulky, like he worked out a lot and drank even more. Tattoos were clear on both arms, bits of his face were pierced, and even in the picture you could see he was freckled all over. His head was shaved bare. "Bastard. Utter, f**king bastard," Joe spat. "583-5555." Chris' eyes narrowed. He was suddenly very angry. Joe obviously knew this guy. That meant he had to be an ex-boyfriend. He didn't know what was worse; that Joe'd date someone obviously married, that he'd date someone who was such a cretin, or that he'd had hurt Joe so badly. "So you know him," Chris said. Carefully. Coldly. "That his number?" "No," Joe said, opening the door and stepping into the rec room. "It's our mother's."

Well, I think this is where it needs to be, since I don't want to start dropping bodies too soon into their relationship. The creepy factor definitely needs to come in earlier, and Joe should've clearly spent the night at Alex's already. (Probably the friday night right before he went over to Steve's the first time, which'd put the traffic stop back to tuesday or wednesday) I've got something unpleasant to do to Joe's car, too. Yeah, I definitely need to juggle the two plots some when the rewrite comes along.

[short, but it seems important. Not sure why. This, for the record, is the spot where I had to stop and make a note of all the characters that had shown up so far and what they did...] Thursday morning Joe was digging through quarterly employee reviews. His office door was closed and his desk was piled with papers and empty coffee cups. Dave Brubeck was playing softly on the stereo in the corner. The electronic twiddle of his phone caught him by surprise. He'd told his assistant he wasn't supposed to be disturbed. She knew how much he hated handling the paperwork. "Hi Joan," he said absently. "What's up?" "You've got a call from Detective Russell," Joan said. "Oh, great. Can you ask him if I'm under arrest again?" "I don't think they can arrest you over the phone," Joan said. "Maybe. Wouldn't put it past him." "He's on three," she said. "Hey Steve," Joe said as he took the call. "This isn't a great time." "Sorry, Joe," Steve said. "I wouldn't normally call you, but it's that Jane Doe you found last week." "She okay?" Joe asked. "You're kidding, right? She's a mess. We need to talk to her, though. She liked you. D'you think you can come by and maybe keep her calm enough to get us some answers?" "Do you think it's a good idea to put her through that after what happened?" Joe wasn't actually sure what happened, but nobody ended up with that much blood on them because of something good. "It's a crap idea, Joe", Steve said. His voice sounded tired. "But some nutcase sliced up her mom, brother, and sister. He's still out there somewhere, and odds are he'll do this again." Joe understood, but he wasn't comfortable being involved in questioning her. It was probably going to be traumatic, and he didn't want to be responsible for that. "Don't you have psychologists for this?" "And social workers, and Chris who's usually good with kids, but she goes into a shrieking fit when we try. I know it isn't fun, but we don't have anything else to go on yet. Please?" Joe sighed. He knew Steve was right. "Fine," he agreed. "I'll come help, but no promises." "Not asking for one," Steve said. He sounded a lot happier. "We'll take anything at this point." "Where should I meet you?" "Group home. 415 Maple, a few streets down from the restaurant we had lunch at last week." Joe shuddered at the memory. "If I could survive that, this ought to be a piece of cake." "That's the spirit," Steve said. Joe hung up the phone. He grabbed his suit jacket and took one last swig of his cold coffee. "I've gotta go," he told Joan as he let his office. "Probably won't be back." "Guess they can arrest you over the phone," she asked with a smirk. "Don't start," he said. "Just

There's a part of me that, like the annoying kid in the movie theater, is tempted to blurt out everything and dump out all the bits that've been written so far (there are three of the chapterettes pending release). I'm sitting on that part and giving it an occasional thwack with a stick. This is also a new experience.

And we've even got plot sign! Woohoo! This has been fun to do, and hard in a way that writing hasn't been in the past. (I've been stifling the urge to jump ahead in the story. I think that's a good thing. I'm not sure, but that's how I'm writing this one. This thing's been one big experiment) Been toying with exactly how much of the spooky to put in it. I've been mostly erring on the side of not too much, but we'll see if that keeps up.

[Right, this is where we find that my exposure to firing ranges is almost entirely through cop shows and Mythbusters] Tuesday evening Joe dashed out of work late. It was 6:30 and he had to meet Steve at the range for seven. There wasn't time for him to get home and change, so he was stuck dressed for work. He was pretty sure a suit wasn't appropriate dress to go learn how to shoot things, but he didn't have a whole lot of choice. The firing range was in a nondescript brick building by an industrial park on the other side of town. Joe managed to get there, but only with five minutes to spare. He saw Steve's car already parked around the side and pulled in next to it. Steve was in the car finishing off a burger. "Hey," he said as Joe got out of the car. "You made it." "Who could pass up a chance to put holes in things?" "Right," Steve said. "I'll remember to stand behind you." They walked into the building, Steve carrying a metal case. The guy working the front desk looked up as they walked up. "Detective Russell. How's it going tonight?" "Pretty good, Phil," Steve said. "Got a pair of lanes free tonight?" He punched a few keys on his computer and looked at the screen. "It's quiet tonight. You can have seven and eight." "Great. Can we throw Joe here on my membership?" "Sure," Phil said. "Can I see your license please? And will you need anything?" Joe fished out his license and handed it to Phil. "I don't know. Do I need anything?" "Give him a set of earmuffs for today." He waved the case at Phil. "I've got everything else this time." "This time?" Joe asked. "You make it sound like I'll be back." Steve smiled. "Oh, yeah, buddy, trust me. You'll be back." Phil smirked as he handed over the ear protection. "I'll buzz you back," he said. The buzzer sounded and they went through a side door and down a hall. The range was simple enough. It was a long cinderblock room with dividers marking off eight lanes. Track ran along the ceiling, and at the end were paper silhouettes with a bullseye in the center. Behind them was a table with a pile of replacement sheets, and at every lane there was a small table. "I assume you understand the basic idea here, right?" Steve asked. It sounded like a stupid question, but he'd been tagged to give a gun safety course for the local boy scout troop one year and had learned not to make assumptions. "Yeah. Point, shoot. How hard can it be?" Steve shook his head and smiled to himself. This was going to be fun. He took a few minutes to run through the range safety rules. "Okay, got it. Bullet comes out the end with the hole, leave it unloaded if I'm not going to use it, don't point at anything I don't want to kill, don't trust the safety, guns I haven't checked are always loaded, TV lies." "Not exactly how I'd put it," Steve said. Joe was being flip, and he found it a little irritating. Joe wasn't taking this nearly seriously enough, and he was tempted to call the whole thing off. If Joe was going to be dating Chris he had better learn to use a gun, so Steve put the annoyance aside. Barely. "So when do I get to shoot something?" Joe was both nervous and excited. A little part of him felt guilty at the excitement

Well, I've figured out what's going on with Chris and Alex. (And Mike, and Toby, and possibly Chris' maternal grandfather, though I'm less sure about that) That's good, so it gets to play out for the next ten or twenty thousand words or so. That leaves me figuring out what to do with the suspense/thriller part of the story, which is more of a challenge.

I'd considered having a scene right after this where Alex is gone and Joe can't find any buttons, but that didn't seem to be worth the space, since it'd only be driving home Alex's unreality (so there wouldn't actually be any buttons to find) and we've already established that for the reader. If this was all third-person from Joe's POV it might be worth it as a clue, but we've already skipped out of that. (And minor not for me for later -- need some more Chris/Steve scenes about the investigation, and Steve nudging Chris about Alex...)

[Writing things like this on the train is a really surreal experience. I think I won't do that again -- it's tough enough to get past the puritan mores and write it in the first place. Luckily for me I was wearing a heavy jacket... (And yes, Joe gets laid, so be warned. Or encouraged. Whatever)] Joe should have gone out to the club. He knew he ought to. He could dance. He could laugh. He could see Alex. And that was why he didn't. Guilt had gnawed at him ever since he'd left Steve Russell's house. Not because he'd kissed Chris Gagnon. That was a surprise to both of them, and he'd done it to prove a point. But because Chris had kissed back. And Joe had liked it. Maybe better than when Alex did. He hadn't stopped for any good reason. Not self-control, not fidelity, not anything. The only reason he hadn't thrown Chris down and f**ked him stupid was the shame of knowing exactly how close he'd come to cheating on Alex. That thought was enough to keep him home. Instead of dancing, he was on the couch. Alone. In sweats. Wrapped in a blanket. With hot cocoa. It didn't help that he was near-insanely horny. At least the guilt was keeping that under control. Joe snorted as he contemplated the cup he was holding. It was July, and he was curled up with a comforter. He'd even turned the air conditioning up some just so it would be chilly. It was pathetic, but that didn't get him off the couch. Instead he held his cup a little tighter, and sipped from it until it was empty. He probably should have gone out, or at least gotten up. Instead he set the cup on the end table, pulled the blanket up, and went to sleep. It was 9:30. He hadn't been to bed that early in years. Maybe he was just getting old. He'd make it up to Alex later. Joe was woken up by a soft caress on his cheek. He was having the most amazing dream. The details were vague, but there was something in it about whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and pineapples. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. He was even more aroused than when he'd fallen asleep. "Hey," said someone softly. Joe looked up, barely able to see. The face in front of his eyes blurred in and out a little, as he tried to engage his brain. Strong nose. Good cheekbones. Tan. Black eyes. Longish hair. "Alex?" He smiled. "Who else would it be?" "Alex," Joe said, waking up. "Right here," Alex said. He was grinning. "Alex," Joe growled. He was fully awake. Fully aroused. "You already said that," Alex said. Joe grabbed Alex and kissed him hard, with a rumbling at the back of his throat. He felt Alex start to respond, bringing his arms up. That wasn't what Joe wanted. He grabbed onto Alex and launched himself off the couch. He landed flat out on top of Alex, in the middle of the living room carpet. Alex laughed softly. Joe didn't. Joe leaned down, putting his nose in the crook of Alex's neck. He breathed in deeply, smelling Alex. He smelled clean and light, and faintly of cologne. It was enough. He lunged in, kissing wildly at the base of Alex's throat while his hands scrabbled at Alex's chest, trying to undo the buttons of his shirt. Three seconds were enough for frustration to hit. Joe grabbed the shirt and ripped it open. Buttons popped and flew everywhere. "You're all worked

The weird thing is that this really isn't the way I usually write. It's kind of interesting, though, and while the story's rougher I'm still happy with it. Knowing that it's so rough helps. There's all sorts of stuff in here that'd normally drive me nuts, but I can leave it go since the thing right now is to get to the end, then go back and fix things up properly.

[you know it's not going to be this easy. Be honest. You know that. This was originally chapter 15, but I needed a flashback, so it isn't] Toby's scream brought Chris to his feet. The boy was lying on the ground on the other side of the pool, holding his knee and crying. Chris crossed the distance in four strides, almost falling himself as he ran on the hot concrete patio blocks that ringed the pool. He was there in seconds, cradling Toby as he cried. "Sh, sh, it's okay. Papa's here, Toby." He hugged the crying boy to him, stroking his hair and trying to take the pain away. It didn't work, it never did, but that never stopped Chris from trying. When Toby's crying faded to sniffles Chris gave him one last hug. "What happened, Toby?" "I slipped, papa," Toby mumbled into Chris' shoulder. Chris sat down carefully, still cradling Toby. With his feet dangling in the water he looked Toby over. One knee was bleeding, the skin abraded away. "I see. Looks like you landed pretty hard there, sport." Toby nodded. His eyes were bright, tears leaking down his cheeks. Chris pulled him close and kissed the top of his head. "We're going to need to get it washed out and make sure there's nothing in it. Can you be a big boy for papa?" "I c'n," Toby said. "Good boy. Hold on tight, okay?" Chris' voice was soft and reassuring. He hated this part, hated doing anything that might cause his son pain. But it had to be done. "Squeeze if it hurts. That's all right." Chris reached to his right and grabbed one of the pool toys that were scattered. It was a plastic cup in the shape of a fish. Not too big, but big enough. He scooped up some of the pool water and poured it over the scrape. Toby squeezed hard as the chlorinated water washed over the cut. It stung, but he tried to be strong, like his Papa. Even still, he whimpered a little. Chris kissed him again. "You're doing really well, sport." He took a look at the cleaned out scrape. It wasn't anything big, just a few layers of skin missing and some blood. "Looks okay," Chris said. "I think you're gonna live." "Really?" "Yep," Chris replied. "But