51,248 Words and DONE!!!

Oh wow- I am so glad to be done, but also really sad! I actually kind of loved the way I wrapped it up and really can't wait to share this novel with everyone. I ended up really loving my characters.
First, I have to include the first ending- I couldn't wait to use the line Katie wrote in one of her comments. I think you will all agree it was used to great effect and is a triumph:

“Oh, I like you, Jackie, I always have. Always. I will miss you. But you see, you don’t have a choice – you never have. Every single time you thought you were making a choice, it was me pulling the strings- even this mission,” he said, spitting out the word as though it was distasteful. “What a joke.”

“How long have you known?” Jackie asked, not because he was curious, but because he had noticed something remarkable. He kept his eyes fixed on Mr. Black, and he needed to keep Mr. Black’s attention on him, because behind Mr. Black were P.K. Subban and Will Hawthorne, and they were leading the patrons of Jackie’s Place out through the secret entrance in the storage room. As Mr. Black fell prey to the villain’s curse, which was to over explain, the room was slowly, but surely emptying.

“And that was the moment when I knew you had betrayed me…” Mr. Black concluded, a triumphant look on his face.

“Thrilling,” Jackie replied. “And when was the moment when you knew that you were defeated?” He asked, and Mr. Black tilted his head to the side quizzically. He looked around the now nearly silent room, and saw that the only remaining people in it were Jackie, Will, Gordon, and Annalise, the latter of whom was holding a gun to Jorn Alcorn’s head, and pointing a second gun in his direction.

“Hey guess what, asshole?” Annalise said, cold fury pouring through her veins. Although she and Mr. Black had never met, formally, she recognized him as the man she had seen arguing with her mother twice- once when she was 16, and again when she and Jack had broken up. This monster had his hands all over her life, her past, her present and she would be damned if he would get his hands on her future. This fucker’s time was up. “All of your greatest enemies call you Mister, too, you piece of shit.”

And then the epilogue...  Jackie Desmond reappears:

Jackie’s Place was much the same as she had left it, with a few small changes. The corner booth where she sat still bore images of Jackie Desmond- her favourite was the one where Jackie Desmond was perched on the back of a truck, speaking into a microphone- no doubt inspiring the crowd that swarmed the vehicle. Jackie Desmond’s partner was in the foreground, facing the camera, the pride and joy he was experiencing evident on his face. Yes, Jackie Desmond was still a hero of the resistance, although her fame had diminished along with the Ugh Ford movement, which was no longer necessary. At the end of August 2019, Ford and his new Chief of Staff, Jordan Peterson, had inexplicably fallen into the shark tank at Ripley’s Aquarium and been partially consumed. Apparently their brand of faux populist bullshit had not been to the sharks’ taste any more than it had been to humans. It was not known why or how they had fallen into the shark tank, but political commentators speculated that perhaps they had consumed a few too many variety store beers and become disoriented. It would remain a mystery.

And the story of Jack and Anna:

“I will do that,” she said, though he was no longer listening. Ethan would be happy to hear from Taylor Kitsch, he always was. They had all kept in touch this last year, Taylor Kitsch, David Boreanaz, P.K. Subban, Will, of course, Gordon, whom she saw practically every day. Everyone except Jack, who had disappeared following the explosion and fire. But lately, Annalise had felt certain that she had seen him, out of the corner of her eye- at the library, at the 24 Hour Jorts Emporium where she had met Gordon one day, at the grocery store. He seemed to linger at the edge of every crowd, or maybe it was just her imagination. Annalise had a feeling that he was around. That she would see him again. He was never gone from her life, not really. As if on cue, the bell above the door at Jackie’s Place rang gently. And there he was.

Annalise heard the song that was playing through the restaurant speakers, a classic by Gordon Lightfoot.

If you could read my mind, love… what a tale my thoughts would tell…

Jackie moved slowly toward her table, his eyes darting around both out of caution, and out of fear of meeting her gaze. His tentativeness broke her heart.

And I will never be set free… as long as I’m a ghost that you can’t see…

Were they finally free? After a year of looking over her shoulder, she began to think they just might be. His presence seemed to indicate he might believe so, too.

When you reach the part where the heartache comes… the hero would be me… Heroes often fail…

There had been so much heartache in their story, so much loss and sadness, but also so much heroism. Jack had always wanted to be the hero in the story, but in the end, they both needed to be heroes. They needed to save each other. Could they do it? After all this time?

And you won’t read the book again… because the ending’s just too hard to take…

There had been a time in Anna’s life where she had been certain she would not survive losing Jack- where she had been sure that loving him was too much of a risk to take. But maybe this time, they could write their own ending. Maybe this time, things could be different. Jack reached her table, and looked down for a long time before raising his eyes. His, like hers, were filled with tears. Tears of what had once been lost, tears of what could be found again, if they could be brave, so brave, and take one first step.

Annalise decided she would be the one to take it.

“Out of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine,” she said, as tears spilled from her eyes. David Boreanaz and Taylor Kitsch were watching from the bar, clutching each other and smiling.

Jack smiled at her, and it was as though he had set down a heavy burden. He had been set free, and his smile was like light piercing the clouds. “How long have you been waiting to say that line?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

“About a year,” she said, and laughed. Jack sat down. And just like that, they began to write their own story. This one, Annalise was sure, would have a happy ending.

THE END

Day 27, 48,217 Words and I can hear the roar of the crowd...

I am so happy to be back on the blogs and so close to the end! I only have 1800 words left, and a lot of story to wrap up, which is hard because I have so many characters. Here are a couple of excerpts from today's writing- I hope you enjoy!

When Jackie emerged from the storage room, he noticed that a strange thing had happened inside Jackie’s Place- something he hadn’t anticipated. The academics and the New Jersey Devils fans had begun to intermingle, and to form a camaderie of sorts. The flip cup game appeared to be at an end, the victor off somewhere celebrating the spoils. And while the noise level remained high, it was no longer two sides of a room competing to dominate the mood. They had come together, united in a kind of joyous grief. They were sharing stories of painful disappointments- of missed opportunities to acquire desired draft picks, of failed grant submissions, of game sevens blown in the final seconds, of teaching requirements that kept one from pursuing one’s true passion. It seemed they were uniting in their common humanity. He saw that the academics and the fans were brainstorming different clever signs to declare their grief to the world. They wrote their ideas on slightly used napkins (where had those come from he wondered- looked like Boreanaz and Kitsch were taking some liberties), and congratulated each other on their expressions of wit and depth of feeling.

“Found the lime,” Jackie said as he reached the bar, setting down an aged looking lime that was more brown than green. It was a clever ruse.

Taylor Kitsch stepped out from behind the bar, and sadly held out the grimy bar cloth.

“You keep it a bit longer,” Jackie said. “I have to go talk to the band.” Jackie turned to go, but not before he saw a beatific smile light up the face of the handsome man, and although Jackie had seen many things in his life, too many things, he often thought, that smile was something he would remember to the end of his days. It was the smile of a man who has found his calling. And although Jackie had miles to go before he slept, he took a moment to wonder whether Taylor Kitsch would ever return to the celebrity hockey circuit, or audition for that wizard role he has been talking about incessantly.

But a moment was all he could take, and soon enough, it had passed, and he went to see a band about some explosives.

And here are P.K. and Will, whom you haven't heard much about in probably about two weeks or so...

Will and P.K. Subban were nearly to the exit point, having used the secret exit from the storage closet to enter the hotel room hallways. It was slow going, as at every turn they had to make sure that they were not seen by any of the police officers, who seemed to be everywhere in the building. Will’s job was to successfully extract the hockey player from the building, and keep him hidden until the mission was concluded, at which time P.K. Subban would be able to resume his life as normal, hopefully playing for whichever team made him the best offer. Jorn’s team had successfully contained all information coming and going from the hotel- the staff had been cleared out in advance of the incident, the hotel guests had their cell phones confiscated, told they would get them back once everyone had been interviewed, and the land lines had been disabled, although no one had thought of using those anyway, what with it being 2019, and all. It has been a complete success- the hotel existed in its own bubble- for the time being, everyone in there was on their own.

They had reached the designated exit from the building, and were moments from being whisked away- Will could see the idling car on the other side of the door- the lights went out. Night had fallen in New Jersey, a cloudy, moonless, muggy summer night, and the hotel was plunged into darkness. After a few moments, the emergency lights came on, and Will saw P.K. looking at him questioningly.

Is this a part of the plan?” P.K. asked. Will knew what his role in this mission was, and he knew that if anything were to go wrong, it was his job to carry out his part of the plan- P.K. Subban was his responsibility now, and he was supposed to get him to safety, no matter what. But Will, too, had talents- he had been targeted and recruited because of them, and trained to trust his keen instincts, especially in moments like this one, where the stakes were high, and decisions needed to be made in seconds. Will had spent the better part of the day in P.K.’s company. Much has been made of P.K. Subban’s charisma, his contagious smile, his commitment to his teammates, fans, and community. Will could attest to these, and more. P.K. Subban was a man of considerable intellect and integrity, and over the course of the day, Will’s respect for him had grown considerably. His instinct was to tell this man the truth.

“No,” Will said, concern in his voice, “it isn’t.”

“Are we going back in there?” P.K. asked. Will and P.K. exchanged a loaded glance. Will paused, but only for a moment.

"Yes. We are."

Day 24: 42,216 and Shit is Going to Get Real Sooner or Later

So... finally have moved all of my characters (or most of them) into one spot, so tomorrow, something is going to have to happen to move the multiple plots forward and I will be honest I really don't know what is going to happen but I am out of ways to waste time! So here is an excerpt from the end of my writing today. Everyone is all together in the storage room at Jackie's Place. They are surrounded by cops, Mr. Black is somewhere in the building... 

There was no easy way to explain to Brock what was happening inside of Jackie’s Place. The New Jersey Devils Fan Club, the academics, the flip cup contest, the dog themed cover band… it was a lot. So Annalise didn’t really try, but she had to admit she was impressed with how in stride he took it. Brock had always been unflappable. Although it had driven her crazy at times, she had to admit it was a useful characteristic. It would certainly serve him well here. The only question he had asked was about Black Labbath. As she and Ethan went to meet Brock at the entrance, where he was waiting with the unfortunately named Jorn Alcorn, who was still abiding by Jack’s ‘no cop’ rule for some reason, the band had launched into the ever popular “Old Lab Road,” and had somehow managed a costume change while on stage, as the band members were now wearing western themed outfits that were simultaneously lab-themed. It was an astonishing sartorial triumph.

I’m gonna take my lab to the Old Lab Road… I’m gonna bark ‘til I can’t no more…

“Is that a Black Sabbath tribute band, or a Labrador Retriever tribute band?” Brock had asked.

Ethan, demonstrating classic adolescent contempt for the stupidity of adults, had rolled his eyes.

“Um… it’s a Labrador Retriever tribute band. Duh.”

“Cool,” Brock had responded, earning another eye roll from his son.

While Ethan might have been feeling scornful of his father’s lack of understanding about dog-themed tribute bands, Annalise had been impressed with Brock’s handling of Jorn Alcorn. Perhaps it was because Brock had not brought up the more famous naturalist brother (not being familiar with John Alcorn’s oeuvre), or perhaps it was because Brock was a man, but either way, Jorn Alcorn had been easily talked into allowing Annalise and Ethan some time with Brock in advance of being formally interviewed by the police. Perhaps Jorn believed that they would not be able to successfully discuss anything in Jackie’s Place, what with the music playing so loud, and the crowd being so out of control. So far, it was going according to Jack’s plan.

When Annalise returned to the storage closet in Jackie’s Place, Ethan and Brock in tow, she was surprised to find that more people had joined Jack and the still dusty Gordon in the small space. She recognized the medicolegal death investigator with the penchant for reinforcing traditional Western gender stereotypes, Will Hawthorn, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a very much alive P.K. Subban was hovering at the edge of the group, filling the room with his larger than life charisma.

Day 23, 40,238 Words: Too Much Plot? Could be a problem.

Plugging away here at the cottage, and realizing that all of the plot threads I have cast are a bit unwieldy as I try to move toward the end. Even just bringing all of my characters into one room is proving to be a dilemma. Here is Ethan, Jackie, and Annalise in a storage closet in Jackie's Place:

Ethan watched, looking from one to the other, his eyes growing large. They were talking around something, intentionally avoiding saying the words. Intentionally not talking about how much they loved each other then, how much they clearly loved each other still. Who were they protecting? Him? Did they think he could not hear, could not see? Or were they protecting themselves? And why did that seem to matter, in the face of the horrors Jack was describing? Ethan thought about his mother living through what Jack described and he couldn’t make the pieces fit. He would have to break his image of what and who his mother was in order to make any sense of it, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

Just then, a loud noise erupted in the room as several ceiling tiles collapsed and someone fell from the ceiling into the room.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh sshhhhhhhhiiiiiiiittttttttttt!” He yelled as he fell. The man rose to his feet, shaking dust from his blond hair, brushing the shoulders of his cape and rising to his full height, demonstrating surprising dignity.

Jackie looked at the man sardonically. “Luckily this room is soundproofed.” Gordon looked at him quizzically, as though he had just noticed him.

“I forgot my pencil,” he said, striding across the room, and, unlikely as it seemed, he retrieved a pencil from the shelf of the storage room.

“Gordon?” Annalise and Ethan said, identical looks of shock on their faces.

“Hello again,” he said in a friendly tone, as though this were the most normal thing in the world, as though this was just his way of dropping in on friends. His face turned serious as he turned back to Jackie.

“There is a man here looking for them,” Gordon said, nodding his head in Annalise and Ethan’s direction. “Says he’s their lawyer. They are on their way over, you’re out of time.” Jackie cursed quietly. There was so much more to say, so much more they needed to know. Then he paused, looked over at Annalise.

“You called a lawyer?” he asked.

“I had to think fast,” she replied defensively. “At the time I didn’t exactly know that my entire life was a giant government conspiracy,” she reminded him.

“Oh, it isn’t the government,” Gordon said. Jackie shot him a glare.

“I hadn’t exactly got to that yet,” he said and held his hand up to silence the questions that Ethan and Annalise were peppering him with.

“Not now!” he said in a low voice. Then he softened his tone. “We will get to that, I promise.” He turned back to Annalise.

“You have to go talk to this lawyer before they find us in here,” he said, ushering them toward the door. “Get him to buy you some time.”

“Or her,” Gordon corrected the sexist microaggression automatically. “Or them,” he added.

“Right, thank you,” Jackie said, turning his attention back to Annalise. “He or she or they should be able to buy you some time, if they’re any good. Who did you call?”

Annalise looked uncomfortable as she answered. “I called… Ethan’s father. He’s a lawyer- a good one.”

Jackie raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing for a moment. He processed the information, weighed it. Although it was unexpected, perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. No, perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing at all.

“This could work. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

In the past... 

As she rose from the bed, she noticed that he had left his business card on her bedside table. So Kenny had a real name after all. “Brock Hartfield, attorney” it read, and listed some law firm she had never heard of and didn’t give a shit about. She was oddly touched by the gesture, and though she had no intention of calling him, she also didn’t throw it out.

In the days and weeks that followed, Annalise mourned the loss of Jack all over again. It felt like she was detoxing, getting him out of her system. She was both desperate to see him again and sick at the thought. She dragged herself into work, pale and miserable and intent to not fall any further behind. Her advisor looked at her with sympathy and sent her home to suffer. The academy was no place to heal from a heart break. She briefly thought about writing a song about that, but then wisely reconsidered. There was a reason no one had written a song about the pain of academia.

When she ran out of tears, and tissues, and patience, Annalise rose to her feet. She needed help. She went to see her mother. 

Her mother gives her some advice...

Annalise looked at her mother miserably. “Oh dear. I can see that this is worse than I had thought.” Catherine sighed and sat next to Annalise. “This pain will not kill you, although I know it feels like it will. It will make you stronger. It is like an inoculation- you get sicker to get stronger. And I know you will never, never find yourself in this place again. If you want to be the one in control then you have to be the one to control the narrative. You make them see what you want them to see. And you keep your own heart to yourself. It is yours to break and it is yours to mend.”

Annalise didn’t cry, although she wanted to. She missed Jack like she would miss losing an arm- she didn’t know where she ended and he began- he was a part of her. But if an arm is damaged enough, it needs to be amputated to save the rest of the body. She knew, had known for some time that in order to save her life he had to go. Yes, she missed him, but as she listened to her mother, she realized that she was mourning something else, as well. She was mourning for herself. She was mourning the feeling of sunlight on her face, of warmth on her skin, the feeling of seeing someone, of being seen. It had been something she hadn’t known she had missed until it was there. And now, as Catherine spoke, she knew that she would have to live without those feelings, perhaps forever. To survive this heartbreak, she would have to harden her heart. The arm had to go, and so did the softness she had allowed to grow inside of her heart.

She hugged her mother, and turned to go.

“Annalise,” her mother said. Annalise turned to face her mother. “Don’t see him again.” There was something beyond motherly advice in her tone, a note of warning. Annalise looked at her mother, wondering what she knew. But her mother’s face communicated nothing, showing only what her mother wanted Annalise to see. 

Day 20/21: 34,274 Words- Jackie Desmond! And Brock and Annalise!

I am in the middle of my day 21 writing- am including something from yesterday, and something from today:

First- the introduction of Jackie Desmond (finally!):

Ethan wasn’t sure what he expected when the police officer showed them to the hotel restaurant. It was called Jackie’s Place, which was something of a surprise to him, since there was a Jackie’s Place in Toronto, and he hadn’t been under the impression that it was a franchise. Jackie’s Place in Toronto had been named in honour of Jackie Desmond, a lawyer for legal aid and underground hero of the anti-Ford resistance. Jackie had become inadvertently become the face of the resistance when she became embroiled in a Twitter war with Doug Ford a year earlier. The war had started innocently enough, when Jackie Desmond had tweeted something about not appreciating Ford’s cuts to legal aid. “Cuts to legal aid are an attack on migrant rights! #StopAusterity #AccessToJustice #UghFord” It was rumoured that Doug Ford’s feelings had really been hurt, and when he fired back at Jackie Desmond “Jackie Desmond is a woman, and who gives a shit about women? #FordNation certainly doesn’t!” he unintentionally fueled the fire. The #UghFord hashtag had really caught on, some even referred to it as a resonant call to unite against a tyrannical regime. Within days, posters, t-shirts, and hats bearing the slogan were visible throughout the city, and Jackie Desmond had become the poster child for the resistance. The bar in Toronto, which had previously been a karaoke bar called Dimples, had quickly rebranded to Jackie’s Place, and was well known as a gathering place for the anti-Ford movement. And also shitsters. Décor throughout Jackie’s Place featured images of a defiant Jackie Desmond, a smallish woman, with grey hair and a fierce glare. Most of the images depicted Jackie standing tall, chin thrust out, her fist in the air, ready to take on the world- it was kind of like the closing image in the Breakfast Club, only way cooler. It was Ethan’s favourite restaurant in the city, and he certainly wasn’t alone. The lineup to enter regularly snaked around the corner.

Ethan saw that this Jackie’s Place bore no resemblance to the one in Toronto, and he wondered if it was merely a coincidence that these two places bore the same name. But then, Ethan didn’t much believe in coincidence, and the fact that another one had cropped up did not escape his notice. He filed it away, along with everything else, certain that a pattern was emerging, slowly but surely. He had no idea what to make of this version of Jackie’s Place. On one side of the bar, the academics were jubilantly toasting each other, with shouts of ‘Cheers Butterbeers!’ piercing the air. The morose New Jersey Devils Fans, having lost all hope, were sullenly sipping what looked like cans of PBR, served in paper bags for authenticity. Taylor Kitsch and David Boreanaz weaved their way through and around the tables, bearing trays of bagged PBRs and other murky-looking summer sips. They were both demonstrating surprising skill at their trade, and even more surprisingly, seemed to be enjoying themselves a great deal. In the corner, a band was almost finished setting up, and it looked like they were either a Black Sabbath tribute band (he really hoped not), or a tribute band to Labrador retrievers, as from what he could ascertain from their matching t-shirts and the bass drum design, they were called Black Labbath. He was really hoping for the latter, being a big fan of Labrador Retrievers, himself.

And then, I started writing in the past from Brock's perspective, about how he met Annalise:

He didn’t go every night, though he usually stopped in at least once a week. Twice if he could make it. His work life was demanding, and he did have to spend at least some of his off nights working in other ways to advance his career- his friends weren’t wrong, but still. Brock, as practical and unimaginative as he seemed, had a bit of a philosophical streak. One might even be tempted to call him a dreamer. His mother had often told him that he was a romantic at heart. Mostly, he eschewed that side of himself, his father had made sure of that, but still. Brock believed that there were times when destiny came knocking, and when it did, you answered the damn door. And that was exactly what Brock believed had happened six months previously, during a wild birthday celebration, when Brock had ended up at Dimples Bar, being pulled up onto the stage by a beautiful woman, to sing the Kenny Rogers part of the duet Islands in the Stream.

You do something to me that I can’t explain… hold me closer and I feel no pain…

He knew the song well, Kenny Rogers was one of his mother’s favourites, and the Dolly Parton/Kenny Rogers duets? Forget about it. She used to play the cassette tape in the car, and she sang all the Dolly parts, and he sang all the Kenny parts. So when a beautiful woman, standing on a karaoke stage, turns to the crowd and asks into the microphone if anyone will duet with her on Islands in the Stream? Don’t tell Brock Hartfield that isn’t destiny knocking. So he answered the damn door. Although Brock was no singer, they had done a surprisingly passable version of the ballad, earning them a hearty round of applause from the fickle crowd at Dimples. The way she smiled at him when he kissed her hand to end the song…

Every beat of my heart… we got something going on…

So he came back the following week. Just in case. He was disappointed when she wasn’t there, but he wasn’t crushed. He was a confident guy, and things usually went his way. He was sure she would be there, one of these nights. And he was right. She did come back. About a month after he had first seen her there, she had shown up on the Aerosmith themed night. And just as he knew she would, she had remembered him. As she approached the bar to order a gin and tonic and a beer, she had seen him, and hadn’t a smile lit up her face? She had pointed at him and said to the bartender “Jonathan, this man is a true artiste, get him one on me, whatever he’s having.” When the drink arrived they had toasted.

“To Kenny,” she had said, clinking his glass.

“To Dolly.”

Islands in the stream… that is what we are…

Day 19: 32,004 words and welcome to New Jersey, Jorn Alcorn!

Writing started off really slowly, as I had to come up with how Jackie and Annalise's relationship would come to an end in the past. I had a good sense of how, and why, but it was hard to write and sad!

Here is a section that I think describes the emotional tone of their relationship, and why it had to end.

She had so many questions- where had he been, how was he free? But Jack didn’t want to talk about those years, and for a time she indulged him. She didn’t ask him about the scars on his body, though she ran her fingers over them, tracing the lines, the bumps, as though through her touch she could know all of his stories, could heal the things inside of him that were broken. She thought it was a kindness to let him keep his secrets. She thought that maybe he was right, maybe some things were best left in the past. The past, however, wasn’t ready to let go of Jack Bauer.

Jack wouldn’t tell her about his work, he was quite adamant.

“You are my escape from it all, Anna,” he would say, and he sounded so tortured she didn’t have the heart to push him, even though she was afraid. She was afraid when he disappeared for days at a time. She was even more afraid when he returned, with fresh bruises and cuts, exhausted and hungry, and desperate for her in a way that didn’t feel like love. It felt like he was clinging to her to save his life, to save his soul.

Was this love? She knew it was, and yet. And yet. She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. What she had with Jack was something more than love. It felt beautiful and wild. It felt dangerous. She began to fear this love would consume her whole. She began to wonder if she could survive it.

But she wasn’t the same, either, was she? No. She was not Jack’s Anna anymore. She had made a promise to Jack years ago, that no matter what it took, she would survive- no apologies. And she had. She had become Annalise, and Annalise had things to live for, dreams of her own. Annalise would save her before she was crushed beneath the weight of Jack’s love for her, of her love for him. Something cold began to unfurl within her, a part of her that would break whatever was necessary in order for her to break free. There was a part of her that would break her own heart in order for her to survive.

Then moved on to current day, and finally got to include Jorn Alcorn- I have been planning this since the name first came up, it just took me a while to get there!

As he returned his attention to the room, he realized that his mother appeared to be in some sort of argument with the police officer, which also didn’t make much sense.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was your brother!” she was exclaiming, her hands out in a conciliatory gesture.

“Huh?” Ethan asked, confused. His mother, a sympathetic look on her face, turned to him.

“The police officer just introduced himself. And then…” Ethan looked to the officer’s name tag. It read ‘J. Alcorn.’

“Oh, is your name John Alcorn, like the famous naturalist?” he asked. Beside him, his mother shook her head and grimaced. Apparently he had asked the wrong question.

“We are not here to discuss my more famous brother!” he shouted, his face stormy. “My name is Jorn Alcorn, not John! And I have a really important job. I investigate murders! Which, might I add, is way more important than making cheesy videos that play at some stupid museum in some stupid small town in Alberta!” Ethan could see that the man was still bitter at his parents for giving him the worse of two extremely similar names, and he couldn’t blame him. It seemed pretty harsh. He decided not to press the matter, realizing that making this man their ally was likely in their interest. Ethan was very, very good at making allies, and good at getting what he wanted. It was a skill he had learned from his mother, which was why he was very surprised by what his mother said next.

"I can see that you are still bitter," she said, smiling sweetly while she delivered the sick burn. 

This was so unlike the mother he had grown up with that for moment, he forgot about everything else and simply looked at her, his mouth ajar. His mother had always known exactly what to say, exactly what to do. “Your mother is so charming” people always told him. His teachers, his friends’ parents, his coaches, everyone loved her. Sure, she could be assertive when she needed to be, but she always had a way of getting her own way without ruffling any feathers. She had a way of making people think it had been their own idea all along, rather than hers. Why was she needling this cop?

Why indeed? If you had asked Annalise, she wasn’t sure she could have explained it herself. Was it the strain, the stress of the situation that had her dropping her guard? Hardly. She had a goddamn PhD, she was immune to stress at this point. No, it was something else entirely. Something inside of her was rising up in protest. She was tired of being perfect, she was tired of being what everyone else wanted her to be all the time. Why did she have to play nice to get what she wanted? All this time, over all these years, had she been interpellating herself? Had she been playing a role, playing the con? Or had she been conning herself, turning herself into something she had always loathed? Annalise wasn’t sure, but what she knew was that she was goddamn tired, and this goddamn cop with some weird family hang-up was pissing her off, and she was not going to play nice. Damn the consequences.

“Close your mouth dear, before a fly flies into it,” she said, and Ethan closed his mouth with a snap, still looking at her incredulously. The cop, he saw, still had his mouth hanging open gormlessly. Well, to hell with him, Ethan thought. Let a hundred flies enter his mouth. He had been warned.

Day 18: 30,107 Words- the Devil revealed, and Jackie and Annalise reunion

Not too much happened in the story today, but quick reveal of who the Devil is, if you haven't already guessed:

As he returned to the bar, he noticed that someone else had taken up residence at the stool recently vacated by the lobster shirt wearing custodian of the patriarchy. Jackie decided that now was the time to grab another case of Pabst Blue Ribbon cans from the storeroom. Jackie hoped they liked their beer room temperature, actually, he didn’t care whether they liked it or not, it was his fucking bar, and if they didn’t like it they could fuck off. As he passed by the bar and headed for the storeroom, he was unsurprised to see the new arrival slink off the bar stool and follow him.

When they were both in the darkened store room, Jackie closed the door behind them, blocking out most, but not all of the sound. They were alone, and this conversation was long overdue.

He turned and faced the Devil himself.

“I heard you were in town,” Jackie said, nonchalantly, his voice steady. He would not betray the churn of emotion he felt on the inside.

“Indeed,” Mr. Black replied, looking both sinister and amused at the same time. “I, too, have heard things.” Jackie waited. He wouldn’t let Mr. Black rattle him. Mr. Black either knew of Jackie’s betrayal, or he didn’t. The only mistake Jackie could make here would be to reveal something that Mr. Black didn’t already know. They stared at each other, neither one willing to speak next. Jackie was unruffled. He could play this game all night if he needed to.

Like Jackie, I have a bunch of interweaving storylines- past and present. It is good to be able to leave one story and head somewhere else for a while. I went back to backstory, of the reunion of Jack and Annalise in the past. They will be reunited in the present very shortly- probably tomorrow.

When Annalise first saw Jack at the university library, she was sure she was imagining things. The nightmares had been bad, very bad, and she assumed that the dreams had shaken loose some old memories, memories that were now haunting her waking mind. When she saw him a second time, at the Starbucks around the corner from her apartment, and then a third time, sitting in the back row of one the undergrad classes she was teaching assistant for, she knew that it was him. She knew that it was him, and that he wanted her to see him. His caution broke her heart.

Over the next few months, she went about her business, pretending she wasn’t looking for him everywhere she went, pretending that she didn’t hope to see him, pretending she wasn’t devastated whenever she didn’t. They both, it seemed, had become very good at pretending that they didn’t care about the other. Then the day came when he sat next to her, at the university library, where she had first seen him.

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine,” he said in a soft voice.

“How long have you been waiting to say that line?” she asked.

“Years,” he said, and there was such sadness in his voice that she was sure she had stopped breathing, for his voice had found expression for a pain inside of her that ran so deep she was sure it was going to break her in two. And that was all it took. Somehow, though it seemed impossible, all the years they had spent apart, all the pain, it just fell away, and they began to talk as though they had only just seen each other only yesterday.

Being with Jack again felt to Annalise like the sun warming her skin after a thousand year winter, a winter that she had felt certain would never end. So long had she been without that warmth, she had almost forgotten it existed at all. It was a love so intense that at times it felt like physical pain. She couldn’t get enough. She neglected her studies. She made excuses to friends. She wanted to spend every moment with the sun on her face. It was good, so very good, so beautiful and true- while it lasted.