Strange magical drama

It was decided throughout the night, over many low-percentage beers and much take-out, that none of them really knew anything about anything. And the more points of connection they had in this grid that Finley could make out, the less the lines made sense. They were missing too many other points to accurately inform themselves of their situation, which was something Finley tried at first explaining mathematically and then had to dumb down to quite literally, just to get it through RJ's head.

She seemed convinced of one thing - that she was going to have to go back to Toronto, for some reason. And that she hated Toronto in the winter.

Tim mostly just made a point to say that if the FBI came knocking, he didn't know anything, but still looked at the pictures and contributed his own set of ideas to the dialog. Alex, who joined later in the afternoon, largely agreed with Tim and seemed to be enjoying some schadenfreude at RJ's expense. Aidan meanwhile grumbled out loud that they should've just gone to the police and looked at their files on the attempted kidnappers and 'assassins.'

When RJ heard that idea, she frowned, and then perked up. "Up for round two?" She looked at Finley pointedly.

He quickly searched the event on his phone and found a video that he cast to Tim's television across the room and turned up the volume as the chief of the LA county police department had given a statement about the event. It was quick, stiff, formal, and concluded that the dead trio had been identified and would be convicted in mortuum of domestic terrorism. It was believed that they were from an extremist sect of Christians.

This description did match what Finley had picked up from their heads, but it still left many questions. After the video he found an article that had been written on the event for the next day's newspaper, published that morning, which stated that all three had a known affiliation with the First Advent Church of Christ in Toronto, in that their official addresses were listed as the actual church building in Ontario. Someone had done Finley's research for him. Regardless, this church had denied affiliation and refused to answer any questions, claiming not to know the three or have any record of them. And indeed, no record of them associated with the church had been found beyond one of the trio having a pamphlet in their possession of it, and all of them having Canadian identifications.

It was enough to make Finley believe his sister really was psychic, at least. Tim actually asked her at one point, "Why Toronto? Why is all this happening in fucking Toronto? It's gonna be cold as balls there! You always told me you hated Toronto worse than anything."

"There are worse places," RJ assented after she took a long draught of her beer. "And besides, the music scene is at least good. And that's where we'll find what we need. I can feel it. It's like . . . Something I can touch, almost right in front of me - but when I try it pulls away. There's some veil over my eyes or something stopping me from looking too closely. I'm not sure I want to look. But I have to go there."

"You mean 'we,'" Finley corrected her after a sip of his own beer.

"Also, you're a crazy bitch," Alex added.

"I love you too bro," she smirked, and flipped Alex off. "We can't trust the police or FBI to look into this. They don't give a shit about people like us. We gotta find this church and fuck their shit up, for fucking with our family. We're the only ones in a position to do it, so I say—"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Aidan shot in. "First, I need to get a hold of my professors. Then—"

"You're going back to Sacramento, and we're going to Toronto," Finley said assertively. He felt suddenly less assertive and very small when he saw the annoyed look in Aidan's eyes and felt his emotions from his proximity and eye-contact. Aidan was experiencing undisguised, almost fondly amused annoyance with him.

Aidan held up one pointer finger. "First," he began gently, but firmly, "you don't get to tell me what to do. Second," and he held up a second finger, turning in quickly into a middle finger belied by his smile, "of course I'm fucking going with you. You'd get into nothing but trouble without me. And third," he held up his thumb as the third finger and pointed it back at himself, "If we're doing the investigating, we should do what I say, because I've read and watched the most true crime."

"Aidan, our entire childhood was a true crime novel," RJ scoffed.

"Yeah, a depressing one," Timothee agreed with a nod and a drink of his cold IPA.

"Whatever," Aidan easily dismissed, "I'm as much of an expert here as anyone else, and I think we should focus on one step at a time - first on getting to Toronto, and then onto searching the internet for information about this church. I'm sure they have a website."

Finley had been looking at his phone as Aidan was talking, thinking on the same lines because he could read his best friend's thoughts, and had already found the First Advent Church of Christ of Toronto's website. "A super shitty one," he said aloud, and passed his slim phone over to Aidan. "Their email sign-up doesn't even have a working 'submit' button. I could fart out a better website in my sleep."

Aidan was silent for a few moments as his eyes and fingers rapidly scanned through the contents of the website, clicking on different links and speed-reading through their information. "This seems like any other small Christian church, really," he surmised, sounding disappointed. "They have some grammatical errors, but nothing that raises any serious red flags."

"Red flags? Submit button?" Finley reiterated. "You saw the giant cross on their homepage! It was the color of poop-covered gold," he shuddered. "And who uses an orange background with bright green text-boxes and black text? Only psychopaths do that." Aidan gave him a fond look that Finley wasn't sure he'd earned.

"They probably don't mention their cult of child sacrifice on the website," Jeri cut in dryly.

Alex cut in disbelievingly over his own beer, "Cult of child sacrifice?"

Jeri looked darkly down at her hands. "Yeah. Fuck my life," she decided.

"It does list their address," Aidan confirmed, and handed the phone back to Finley. He copied and saved the address into a note as Aidan went on, "If we're going there anytime soon, we should book something close to that area."

"Yeah, yeah," RJ said dismissively, drinking the rest of her beer in two gulps. "I'll take care of it later. Just a phone call away, peppy-boy. And let me stop you," she added to Timothee, who had opened his mouth as if to speak and then immediately shut it upon her gesture. "No, you're not coming with us, T. You'd be more of a liability than an asset as far as criminal stuff goes."

"I don't even know what to say to that," Tim said strangely cheerfully. "But I'm glad you beat me to the punch, because I was going to say good luck, I'm out. I think you should contact the police."

Finley had objections to this idea. "And tell them all about the useless 'evidence' I acquired illegally by sneaking into the FBI? That's a definite one-way-ticket to a CIA black site, for sure. I'd get filed away with all the other witches as soon as they figured out what I was."

"Hey, you don't have to show them that, but you can call attention to this church, or I don't know, lay low and play it safe," Tim suggested mildly.

"I only found out about them because a journalist already looked into them," Fin defended. "The police are already investigating them, but you know the LAPD, Tim. Be real."

"You saw those motherfuckers at the label!" RJ objected. "They wanted to drag me out of there at gunpoint! Who knows what they'd do to me!"

"I thought they were trying to kill you," Alex reasoned. "I mean, they shouted your name and had guns and fired them. That says 'death' to me. I'm not saying that's a good thing, just stating an observation," he corrected when he saw the outraged look on her face.

She calmed down a moment later and reached for a new beer that Finley passed to her after opening it with a nearby lighter. "Whatever," she shrugged. "Either way, I'm fucked up a creek without a paddle. So, I say we find these guys and fuck them up first."

Aidan looked to Finley and drew Fin's gaze to him. He met his best friend's hazel eyes, heavy with concern. "What do you think we should do?" Aidan asked, as the same question echoed in his mind. Finley could always count on him to speak his mind and appreciated that about him.

"We should play it safe, find a place near this church we can rent, and quietly investigate them ourselves," Finley answered. "Jeri can't be in public alone without getting kidnapped or attacked, so that means I'm staying with her. Maybe we can go in disguise as church-goers, or volunteers. Ramiel said a lot of things that haven't come true, at least not to my perspective, but he's involved in this somehow. It's all connected, and we're missing too many pieces of the web to have it hold up anything yet. It all fits in some design we just can't piece together with what little we have. We need more information, and this church is the only real lead we have. These people may have killed my mother, and my aunt," he added, staring firmly at the floor, as his hands unwillingly clenched at the thought of their killers living without justice. "I have to know. I have to."

"I agree that there's no such thing as coincidence," Aidan said, looking down toward his hands with a troubled expression. "I've seen enough in my life to testify to that. And I want them to get justice too. I'll help however I can."

"What would help most is if I had the peace of mind to know you're safe," Finley bit out, finally finding the words to summarize his feelings about the situation.

Aidan went quiet, and so did the rest of the room. Then, RJ began to whistle. "Alright T, it's you and me and Al on the patio with as many mushies as you have left over," she demanded suddenly, standing up. "These two lovers need a spat," she added, smiling blithely at Finley. He glared at her, not for her presumption but attitude, and she was completely unaffected as usual. As Alex had said, it was hard to stay mad at someone who didn't seem notice. Tim followed her out of the room with no objections, only raised his eyebrows at Finley and sipped his beer on the way out. RJ's chatter followed them all the way outside, until it cut off when the patio door from the kitchen was closed.

"I thought I was pretty clear about this," Aidan spoke up finally, his voice carefully even. Finley could tell he was upset, but he was guarding his emotions, being mindful of Finley as always. To respect his privacy for the sake of the discussion, Fin maintained some distance between them and sat across from Aidan, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head and tried his hardest not to hear everyone's thoughts all around him.

It wasn't easy, but it was an art form that he'd been practicing on since he was nearly ten. It mattered to know the difference between his own thoughts and the outside world - what he identified as belonging to him, and no one else. He could feel his hands on his scalp, threading through his hair, the twitching of his toes in his socks - little movements grounded him to his body, to the moment he was in, and helped him focus. He breathed. He focused on the breath, moving in and out of his body, and when he was ready, he faced Aidan. "I'm trying to block you out. I'm sorry," he apologized instinctively, and then winced when Aidan seemed to reprimand him for it with his expression alone. "And I'll try to stop apologizing," he added.

"Excellent," Aidan announced, sounding annoyed, "and then next we can move onto the subject of autonomy! Who gets to decide who does what, and where? Is it God? The President? Finley? No?"

"I can't tell you what to do," Finley agreed, paying no mind to the heavy sarcasm which was always Aidan's defense mechanism, "and I wouldn't want you to just do what I say. But I need to know that you're going to be alright." You're all I have left, he silently added.

"You heard her earlier," Aidan objected. "They know where we live. They were at the park we were at. They've been following us somehow, watching us. They know who you are, who she is, and they have to know who I am. Tim and Alex and the band can hire bodyguards and stay at home - I don't have that luxury. The safest place for me right now is with you. You can stop them, Finley. I've seen it."

That stopped Finley cold - in a literal sense, he felt a peculiar chill in his chest as he realized what Aidan meant. "How much do you know about what happened to Anton?" He asked, very carefully keeping his tone level.

Aidan looked down and away for a moment, and when he regained a sense of himself, he looked back up into Finley's eyes without fear. "I'm not a moron," he stated plainly. "You were - you are - still grieving Teegan. I know that. And I don't judge you for what you did. I know how hard you struggle for control every day. I can't imagine what must have been going through your mind . . . And I only wish you'd have felt comfortable enough to tell me yourself, rather than Jeri just dropping the bomb on me like that earlier."

In all his mental scenarios that Finley had thought out - all the different ways he could have been honest with Aidan, and subsequently blamed by Aidan, or shunned by him for being a murderer - this was not the reaction he had anticipated. "You don't . . . Hate me?" Finley was genuinely surprised.

Aidan seemed equally shocked. "I could never hate you," he said vehemently. "Finley, I love you," he openly admitted. "That will never change."

Fin had to stare at the floor, because he felt naked with all those feelings in the air just waiting for him to soak. He could have basked in it, in the palpable feeling of Aidan's love, but he didn't deserve it. "There's more," he admitted. "Those people at the label, they . . . I—I made them . . . I . . ." He trailed off, unable to say the actual words, because he felt himself choking on them. It was more than he'd ever done - the ending of lives, the severing of cords. Anton had been an accident. A horrible accident. He could easily justify it. It was payback for what he'd done to Mandi, it was vengeance, it was just. The people at the label had been deliberate. Methodical. Easy. He'd puppeted them like a master and may as well have pulled the triggers himself. He hadn't even shed any tears over it yet. What does that make me? Is this how Salvador feels? He wondered here and there how his brother did it, being a sniper. Holding life in his hands on a daily basis in his reticule, and deciding - or accepting it was someone else's decision - to pull the trigger. He wished he knew how to talk to his brother about these things.

Aidan crossed the space between them in two steps and engulfed Finley in a tight embrace. He sat himself down next to Finley and the contact was so sudden and so necessary that Fin felt stunned for a moment. Finley's breath caught in his chest as he realized what he'd just said out loud. It had been an admission of guilt, something he hadn't been aware that he'd even felt. Internally he'd justified the deaths as necessary, but he hadn't been aware that on some level - he had his doubts.

"It's going to be okay," Aidan told him softly, and squeezed just a little bit tighter. Finley reached up and grasped Aidan's arms with his own as he realized Aidan was wrong. Fin knew it, he had changed, he was different after the label, or maybe even since before, but he didn't have room for his own beliefs when he was drowning in Aidan's.

There was a sudden gap between them as Aidan abruptly pulled away, adjusted his glasses on his face, and grabbed Finley's hand, pulling him up from the couch. "Come with me," Aidan more or less demanded, not giving Finley any room for objections - not that Fin wanted to object - and kept holding onto his hand all the way upstairs until they got to the guest room.

Aidan sat down on the edge of the bed, sighed, and ran a hand through his blond curls. "There's more privacy up here, for us to talk," he explained, and looked up at Fin who was still hovering in the doorway.

Finley stared at the bed, then at Aidan, and then the bed again as his mind tended toward one very natural direction. "I don't want to talk," he realized just as he said it out loud. Fin crossed the room - barely managing to kick the door shut behind him - and grasped Aidan's shoulders, drawing his best friend's gaze up. He waited for a silent sign of consent but realized after a second that Aidan had already given him dozens - the man had read Neruda poetry to him, after all - and with that in mind, Finley crashed his lips into Aidan's and lost himself for a second in that feeling of soft bliss.

Love was an addictive chemical. Finley knew this, peripherally. He loved Teegan, still did, and probably always would. But her absence hurt worse than anything because of that love. The love he had for Aidan couldn't replace it - but it had existed alongside the love he had for Teegan sincethe beginning and had largely been unexpressed for reasons that Finley couldn't adequately explain. It had been Teegan's idea to include Aidan that night on their vacation, less out of her personal attraction to her own best friend and more because of her acknowledgment of Finley's. She and Aidan had grown up together - and perhaps because of or despite it, there was no chemistry between her and Aidan. That night hadn't changed anything between the three of them regarding their friendship, however the air had never been completely cleared. And ever since then there had been something significant that had gone unexplained, had been silenced by Aidan's choice. Aidan had been more open to expressing his feelings toward Finley lately since they'd talked about it, and Fin wasn't about to let the opportunity pass him by - especially now that his nosy sister was willfully nosing out of his business.

Aidan pulled away for just a moment to take off his glasses, place them on a nearby nightstand, and then dragged Finley by the jacket down to the bed with him. Finley reasoned that this could be interpreted as a sign of vigorous consent and let his body flop down next to Aidan.

Aidan smiled at him, and Finley got to nearly count the freckles on his cheeks and nose. "Hi," he breathed, when Finley paused for a moment to take in the sight of him.

He is magnificent in every way, Finley thought. "You're fucking beautiful," is what he blurted out loud.

Aidan started busily taking off Finley's clothes and nodded, like it was obvious, and said, "I know." Fin assisted him, nearly ripping off his own jacket and threw it across the room, and when he turned back Aidan was smiling at him. For a moment, Aidan's feelings to Finley were occluded as they were no longer physically touching, and Finley was able to finally focus on his own completely.

"I-I need you to know how, how I," Finley struggled, trying to come up with words for the strange, tormented swirl of emotions that he defined as his own version of love. "How rare you are," he finally decided upon, "and I know—I don't—I can't—I love you."

Aidan plucked at Finley's shirt, which Fin took as a cue to take it off and toss it across the room as well. Aidan began unbuttoning himself and when they were finally undressed, they stared at each other in a mixture of awe and desire for a time before Aidan stepped forward and grabbed Finley's hand, lacing his fingers in his own. "You feel it more strongly from touch," he affirmed, and Fin nodded. "Then, feel me. Tell me how I'm feeling."

Fin bent to grasp Aidan's other hand and closed his eyes. He focused on the warmth of Aidan's life, the strength of his tether to the world, and the sheer vibrancy of his consciousness across the space between them, palpable to Finley. Every mind had an electric sort of rhythm to them, but Aidan's in particular stuck out to Finley with its crackling brilliance. Finley had set him apart and above everyone he knew, both as one of the smartest people he knew and the kindest. Aidan was aflame, now more than ever, overflowing with all the many forms of love - for himself, for life, for the people around him, and most intensely for Finley himself. He finally saw himself through Aidan's eyes and beheld only beauty. It made him want to weep.

He let go of Aidan's hands for a moment and brought his hands to his eyes instinctively, feeling them warm and sting with unshed tears. He didn't want to cry, not in such a moment, but he felt overwhelmed. His breath hitched, getting lodged in his upper chest. "You—" he tried to say anything, anything at all, but the words wouldn't come out. Not only did he not know what to say, he didn't even know where to begin, or even if he would be using the right language.

Aidan gently pulled Finley's hands away from his face and leaned in to kiss him. A few rebellious tears fell, and Aidan kissed them away. How could I not love this man? Finley internally marveled, and kissed Aidan back with all the love he had to offer. They embraced each other and fell, half-stumbling backward onto the bed behind them, which made Finley chuckle in spite of himself.

Finley rolled on top of Aidan and when he looked down at him, he momentarily forgot how to breathe again. He was in love; and Aidan was beautiful; and the happiness of that moment struck him in such a way that it terrified him, followed inevitably by the thought that it would all slip away in a moment because Finley didn't deserve any of it.

Aidan's hand reached up to touch him - his face, his chin, his lips - and he smiled brightly. Finley's heart caught in his chest in a constrictive knot, such that he couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes and found his breath again in Aidan's touch - his emotions traveled across his electric fingertips to Finley, bathing Fin in a sweet tenderness that he wanted to last forever. It was far, far better than mulling in his own tumultuous, roiling emotions.

They spent some unmeasured time just touching each other - making up for lost time perhaps, or simply enjoying the feeling of one another's skin and lips, covering each other in soft caresses and kisses. Finley couldn't help but think back to all the lost time that they'd spent, living and eating together, almost acting like a couple only to not do this exact thing. There had been too many unspoken words and unexpressed feelings getting in the way, and now - as Fin closed his mouth around Aidan's and drowned in the sensation of his lips - Finley was only grateful for how far they'd come and could only laugh at his past self.

"What's funny?" Aidan wondered, hearing Finley chuckle.

"Just wondering if I can go back in time and punch myself in the face," Fin said with a grin. "We should've done this ages ago. I can't believe it took me this long to pull my own head out of my ass."

Aidan smiled at him, and there was a twinge of bittersweet sadness that laced across his thoughts that Finley could sense. Not knowing what to do about it precisely, Fin decided to lavish kisses on Aidan's neck and shoulders to ameliorate it, hoping he wasn't the cause. The feeling dissipated eventually, replaced by a red hot thread of desire as Aidan responded with enthusiastic moans.

As they intertwined like vines around each other, they studied each other's bodies. Though he'd often fantasized about it, Finley had never had the opportunity until now to make love to Aidan - and he didn't want the opportunity to pass him by without memorizing every mark on Aidan's skin. For his part, Aidan was a natural student - he seemed to know precisely where to touch and grip, where to bite and lick - while Fin delighted in every sensation both felt and drawn out of his partner.

After deciding to take patient turns with one another rather than struggle for a finish line (and due to the lack of preparation and proper lubrication), Finley succumbed to Aidan's attention and laid back on the bed and did his best not to interfere with the man's dedicated labor. Fin's hands twisted in Aidan's golden waves of hair as Aidan worked his way down Finley's body, kissing and touching every inch of exposed skin and sending signals to his fingertips and toes. When Aidan finally made his way far enough south, he paused to give Finley a strangely mischievous expression, and then proceeded to take his tongue to run it up the length of Finley's shaft, from the base to the head.

Fin gasped and then moaned as Aidan's tongue went back down and up again, teasing him and causing his hands to reflexively spasm around Aidan's hair. He loosened his grip self-consciously and pulled his hands away for a moment, and Aidan turned his head briefly to kiss the inside of Finley's palm as he returned to work. He slid his tongue over Finley's length a few more times before plunging the head into his mouth, and slowly let the rest of him in. Finley knew that he was about average in size, but he still found it impressive - and an incredible, massive turn-on - that Aidan was able to comfortably fit Fin completely in his mouth.

Aidan began achingly, deliciously slow as he searched for the right rhythm, and all Finley was capable of at that point was groaning and grasping the sheets beneath him. Finley was afire - he could feel Aidan's love in every inch of his flesh, wrapping around him and making all the broken parts of him briefly, blindingly whole. As Aidan picked up the pace and brought him closer to completion, Fin's hands reflexively reached out to Aidan again, just wanting to touch him - bring him closer - anything. Finley's fingers folded into Aidan's curls once more as he helplessly moaned with pleasure.

He tried to warn Aidan before he finished, but the words wouldn't articulate, so he let go of Aidan's hair and simply let it happen. A desperate, mind-shattering orgasm ripped out of Finley's body when Aidan reached a frenetic pace, and Finley cried out in a release so necessary it left tears stinging at the edge of his eyes. Waves of bliss settled over and into him, and whose feelings belonged to whom no longer mattered to Finley. He reached out to Aidan once he could properly breathe again, and the man obligingly laid down next to Finley and threw an arm over his bare chest. Finley turned into the cuddle, wrapping an arm around Aidan too as he closed his eyes and tucked his head under Aidan's chin.

As they laid there next to each other, and Finley found his breath, he uttered into Aidan's neck, "That was . . . Incredible."

Aidan laughed softly, the motion rumbling them both from the nearness. Fin pulled his head back to look up at his best friend, his lover, and smiled. Aidan was sinfully flushed and still erect and being close to him like so only turned Finley on more. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to bring Aidan to that same release, but inside of him - he wanted to feel Aidan move in him, with him, but knew that there would be time for this in future sexual encounters. They had to work with what they had, and so Finley rolled over on top of Aidan, pushing the man onto his back, and kissed him.

The taste was salty, but not at all unpleasant, and the notion of tasting himself on Aidan's lips excited Finley more than he thought possible. "My turn," Finley insisted, and crawled down the length of Aidan's body.

"You don't have to—ah!" Aidan gasped as Finley gripped him.

"But I want to," Fin said, and ran his tongue experimentally around the head of Aidan's penis. He knew he was less experienced than Aidan, since this was his first time with a man outside of that messy menage, but he had a cheat - a trick - in the form of being an empath. He could feel through Aidan's skin everywhere he touched the man what Aidan was feeling and what he wanted. It was a matter of trial and error for a few moments, just finding the right strokes and what worked and what didn't, with some of Aidan's gentle instruction. After barely a minute it was already intuitive, and with the delightful sounds coming out of Aidan's mouth distracting him, Finley internally cursed himself that they hadn't done this sooner and wasted so long dancing around each other.

"Don't worry—there will be plenty of this in the future," Aidan promised around his moans, having picked up on Finley's thought thanks to the connection. It startled Finley to be the one sharing thoughts for a change, but he didn't stop, he couldn't.

As Aidan inched closer and closer to his own release, Finley felt himself climbing with him toward that peak once again. Every gasping cry from Aidan's lips as they made their way to that crest was a reward, and delight. Finley lost himself completely in Aidan the moment Aidan orgasmed - Fin just slipped away for a few seconds, completely submerged in Aidan's thoughts and feelings as the sensation of utter bliss enveloped both of them and sent them both over the edge. It was a feedback loop that intensified before it faded, leaving them both breathless.

Finley had felt something similar before, but never quite so intense. Sex, for him, was a bit of a mentally dangerous matter as he could quite literally lose track of his own mind when in close proximity to others. When it was with those he trusted, he discovered he didn't mind losing himself - quite the opposite, he enjoyed the sensation of disassociation. Finley's own feelings were complex, bitter, and heavy. It was a relief to drown in Aidan's for a moment - and he knew in that moment exactly how Aidan felt.

It was beautiful, and rare, and fragile. Aidan loved him, with all his heart and being, and Finley knew on a fundamental level that he didn't deserve it at all. He was willing, however, to let go of that notion for a time and lose himself in Aidan.

"Come here," Aidan said, motioning upward with his hands. Finley crawled up the length of Aidan's body and plopped himself down next to the man, and snuggled in, wrapping his arms around Aidan in a secure but comfortable embrace. Aidan took a moment to catch his breath and reorient himself, and then he started to chuckle.

"What?" Finley wondered, confused.

"Just . . . Happy, is all," Aidan laughed.

Finley smiled with him, but it was an incomplete smile as he held that dark part of himself back, that doubt, that fear, and kept it far away from Aidan where it couldn't touch their relationship. He compartmentalized that feeling of undeserved-ness and shuttered it away into the dark recesses of his mind.

"What's wrong?" Aidan immediately knew something was up, probably from simply reading Finley's expression.

Finley shook his head and buried his face in the crook of Aidan's neck. He breathed in the warm scent of flushed flesh and sweat and focused on projecting a feeling of calm. "Don't worry about me," Fin insisted.

Aidan didn't press, just accepted, and tightened his arms around Finley. They laid there for an uncountable amount of time before deciding to get up and address reality downstairs, helping each other find their clothes that were strewn across the floor and get dressed. Once they were clothed again, but before Aidan found his glasses and put them back on, Finley snaked his arms around Aidan's waist and shoulders and brought him close. Their lips crashed into each other naturally, like they were shaped and made for each other.

"We should probably go back down there," Aidan eventually uttered against Finley's lips, in-between kisses. Finley could feel Aidan's lips turning up into a smile.

"Eventually," Finley promised, and kept kissing him senseless. Aidan didn't object any further.

They did eventually make it back downstairs, though no one else was down there. Everyone - including Alex who had arrived sometime in their absence - was outside on the patio, enjoying the cool night air after ingesting a veritable pile of mushrooms, the leftovers of which were in a bag on the kitchen counter. Fin and Aidan, knowing that Tim wouldn't have minded, helped themselves to a share and measured it out on a nearby kitchen scale.

"A perfect ending to a what-the-fuck kind of day," Aidan summarized as Finley weighed roughly three grams of mushrooms out for him and passed them over on a plate.

"It'll probably be cold as balls in Toronto," Fin realized with a glum expression, "so we should enjoy this, and the warmth, while it lasts."

"Oh, that reminds me," Aidan said around a mouthful of dried mushrooms that nearly made him gag, "I need to send out some follow-up emails to my professors."

"I still wish you weren't disrupting your school for mine and my sister's ass," Fin said around his own mouthful of dried bluish mushrooms, "but it's your choice and I'm not going to try and fight you on it anymore," he added when he saw Aidan's consternated expression.

Aidan's face brightened. "Good! Then I don't have to lecture you anymore on the subject of autonomy."

Finley smiled. "You can lecture me any time you want," he said.

Aidan smiled back. "You're too precious," he accused. "Stop it."

"Both of you stop it," Jeri's voice piped up from the door to the patio, where she'd poked her head inside to sneer at them. "You're making me wanna vomit from an overload of cute."

"Fuck off," Fin told her in a friendly way, and approached the open door after he was finished with his share of the mushrooms.

"Glad to see all it takes is a fine f—" Jeri began, but Finley interrupted her by literally pushing on her face until she backpedaled out the door with a disgruntled 'HEY!' and glared at him. "Don't touch me!" She objected.

"I'm in too much of a good mood to put up with your bad gay jokes," he told her, and marched outside with Aidan not far behind him. He smiled at his sister's spluttering response and walked across the backyard to a nice, empty spot. It was a small distance from Alex and Tim, who were chatting amicably by the hammock and barely paid attention to his and Aidan's arrival.

Finley sat down in the grass and slowly leaned back with a sigh into the plush ground and stared up at the sky. The moon was half-full and bright yellow overhead, and unfortunately very few of the stars were visible due to the ever-presence of the city lights around them. Still, it was peaceful. Aidan sat down next to him, looking at him, and he caught Aidan's gaze with a grin. Aidan reached out for Finley's hand, grasping it and threading their fingers together before laying down next to him and staring up at the same moon.

If Finley stretched out his mind enough, he could feel the concerns of the others floating above the general good mood, but he didn't let it bother him. He focused on feeling Aidan's warm hand in his, and the love that he felt. The mushrooms kicked in gradually over the chatter of the band-mates, save RJ who was disturbingly - but thankfully - silent the entire time and noodled on her mother's old guitar.

"Al," RJ spoke up suddenly, stopping in her playing and getting everyone's attention.

Tim and Alex paused in their philosophical debate to regard her. "Yeah?" the long-haired guitarist wondered.

". . . Will you take care of this old thing, when I go to Toronto?" She patted the guitar against her with one hand, looking not at Alex but at the ground as if she was afraid to ask. "I don't want to lose it or something bad to happen. Or it to get lost in security." She laughed nervously.

"Of course," Alex offered instantly. "I'll guard it with my life."

"Might be better if you keep it here, actually," Tim offered instead. "Just because Alex would have to drive it back to his place, which is a sty, in his sketchy-ass bike, all the way into LA." Alex shrugged, neither confirming nor denying this.

Jeri blinked. "Oh. Good point. T, can you hold onto it then? I'll pick it up when I see you next."

"Absolutely," Tim said with a grin. "You want it treated while you're gone?"

"Nah," she shook her head. "It's old as sin and it isn't going to get any fancier with age. Maybe I'll find someone to pass it on to when . . ." She trailed off, her expression growing pinched, and then she started to play music again without another word. Her mind was impenetrable as she plucked in-between chords gently, almost absently picking out an unfamiliar paen. Fin wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but Tim and Alex seemed to take that as their cue to leave her alone and Fin followed their lead, not really wanting to have another mental breakdown of his sister's on their hands, especially not while they were high on mushrooms.

With Aidan's hand still squeezing his, Finley found it was a strangely beautiful counterpoint to the bleak circumstance. The mushrooms had a curious effect of making everything seem clearer for Finley, without intensifying it out of control the way acid sometimes did. He could quite plainly look at his life - even number his losses - without feeling negatively about it. Part of him wondered if that was merely an effect of Aidan's presence, with the man's feelings coming through his fingertips on Finley's skin. He'd always felt connected to Aidan and fundamentally trusted him; their recent adventure hadn't really changed anything between them, only solidified an already-strong connection. Previously, Finley had been aware of his own feelings as being separate from Aidan's - a tortuous amalgamation of love and self-loathing that had been his constant companion in lonely moments. For now, it appeared Aidan had done something to pacify that torment. When Finley closed his eyes and concentrated, he could vaguely differentiate his own feelings from Aidan's, but the love was the same - and reciprocated equally.

"Seriously, I'm glad you two made up or whatever, but speaking for the single people in the room - quit being so fuckin' cute," Jeri drolled suddenly, causing Fin's eyes to reflexively snap open. She had stopped playing, passed the guitar over to Alex, and approached Fin and Aidan. Finley stared up at her as she stared down at him, and after a few seconds of staring he motioned toward the grass next to him and patted it gently. I don't need to read her mind to read her, he thought. Not when I've known her my entire life.

Without another word and only minimal grunting, RJ plopped down in the grass and laid down next to her brother. He reached for her ringed and tattooed hand - she refused at first, but when he gave her a determined look, she let him take it ever so tentatively, with a cautious expression. He chose not to focus on what she was feeling or thinking - and it came in a tangled mess of suspicion, confusion, fear, self-loathing, and envy - but instead on the clarity that Aidan had given him. He held onto that certain love and focused on it instead, and chose to give it to Jeri, since she seemed to need it the most.

For a while, she was quiet and uncertain, and her fingers kept twitching in Finley's hand. After a minute however, she began to take deep breaths, and closed her eyes, and relaxed. "This is nice," she admitted quietly, and said nothing more. He felt that chaotic weave of emotion in her recede, and like fingers gently de-tangling hair he threaded his intent through the surface of her emotions, sensing only contentment in his wake.

Fin grunted a reply and closed his eyes again, and concentrated. He felt like a conduit in that moment, overflowing with the feeling and passing it on to his lover and his sister on either side of him.

Aidan had been silent nearly the entire time but spoke up suddenly. "You're getting better at projecting," he said to Finley.

"Hmm," was all Fin could say. Words required more effort than he had the capacity for, such was his level of relaxation.

"Yeah, I didn't know you could do this," Jeri commented, aiming the remark more in Aidan's direction despite talking directly to Finley.

He was so aware of both that he could almost sense what they were going to say before they said it. It was with a sense of abrupt and acute déjà vu that he heard Aidan reply, "We've been practicing here and there. My theory was that it would be harder for him to project something than to absorb something. Absorbing is more instinctive and requires little effort for him whereas putting something out there is more effort."

It was a true enough assessment of Finley's abilities - he had been picking up on thoughts for over a decade and only recently was able to learn how to block them out, which required more concentration than reading someone's mind. He didn't know entirely where his limits were, as he'd been stretching them lately, and the implication that he might not have limits frightened him.

He did his best to reign in his fear, so that it wouldn't be tangible to RJ or Aidan, but even both of them must have sensed it because Jeri immediately asked, "Christ, what's wrong now?"

Finley's eyes gradually opened as he withdrew himself from both of their minds and focused on articulating. It took him a while to remember how to properly speak. It came out as a terribly honest question that he wished he hadn't asked: "Are you afraid of me?"

He wasn't sure which one of them he'd aimed it at - it came out as an empty question to the air, followed by a moment of silence as his sister and Aidan processed this remark. "No," Aidan firmly said, while RJ said simultaneously, "A little."

He could sense nothing but honesty from both of them and turned his attention to his sister who was staring at him. Before he could ask her anything else, she spoke, "I scare myself more than you scare me, Fin. If you saw the shit I saw on a regular basis, you would be scared of me too."

Finley felt the need to challenge this, because she hadn't been the one to kill three people by forcing them to commit a knee-jerk suicide. "Show me," he demanded.

She raised a slender black brow and brushed stray blond hairs away from her eyes. "What?" She laughed. "No, fuck off."

"If you let me in, I'll see what you see," he offered quite seriously. He turned his gaze back up at the night sky.

RJ went quiet for a moment. "You don't want that," she said, dubiously.

"Why would I offer something like this insincerely?" He honestly wondered. "Do I sound like I'm joking? I said, show me."

Truthfully, he didn't expect her to take him up on that offer. He was surprised when she said, "Fine, then. Let's see how you like it." And then, her walls dropped.

At first, he felt numb to the noise. It was too intense and overwhelming, and all at once, so he could not process it. It was as if he had been struck like a drum and reverberated out into space and could suddenly sense the whole world around him like never before. Every blade of grass beneath him pulsed with life and memories of seeds, pushing through their coats and birthing themselves into the sun in the only life they knew. Every droplet of vapor in the atmosphere remembered the ocean. Every moth could be traced back to their chrysalis. He could see Tim's house all around him, and feel the energy of the city as the people moved about it - all of it was just an empty lot on the beach covered with scrub until the people overran it, turning a wild and untamed landscape into a glittering, stinking gem of a city, and it happened and unfolded all before his eyes at once like a beautiful mandala. And like every mandala, he saw it erase and decay into nothingness before him as the years stretched into oblivion, and the land stretched out into the rising sea. He saw the past as well as the future, and it was filled with death, as it must be, as it always was. He saw himself as his sister did, and watched as his life and influence before him and it was so vast and dark, he had to look away—

He took a deep breath, realizing he had forgotten how to breathe. He closed his eyes and could hear the sounds of people all around him, moaning, muttering, moving in his periphery, whispering in his ear all their regrets and pleas. These were the cries of the dead as they haunted the minds of the living - as they haunted his sister's. Sometimes they were visible and sometimes they weren't, but they were always shadows of their former selves, clamoring for her attention if they sensed even for a moment that she was capable of giving it. It was, for Finley, horrifying.

She let go of his hand abruptly and her walls shuttered shut all around her, enclosing her mind in a black oubliette impenetrable to his senses even while on mushrooms. Aidan's contentment, and concern, floated back to his awareness, and somewhere along the way Finley realized that he had lost himself, and didn't even mind it.

With that thought, his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and he soared out of his body and away. It came to him like a dream, in a series of images and scenes that he could only half-remember later. He recalled the broken, pale-haired man he saw in his mind's eye, with a strange book chained to his arm as he was laid out before Finley in the rubble of some structure. It was a vivid image, as were the other impressions he received: that of a haggard, long-haired man bent over a map, and a remote cabin in the wilderness that was unlit from within and forbiddingly dark. He also received the impression of the burnt and charred remains of a house, and a thousand other images that fluttered past his mind's eye that he couldn't remember or hold onto. A church, a dance floor, an alley, all of them were blurry and indistinct until he received the vivid, living image of a woman in scrub bottoms and a white tank-top that he saw pacing in a white-padded cell. She was blond and covered in various floral tattoos, so he could be forgiven for almost mistaking her for his sister until she stopped pacing to look right back at him, and an alien face stared at him out of hard black eyes. She grinned wickedly and pointed a finger-gun to her head and pretend-pulled the trigger - Finley awoke after this with a start on the ground to Aidan looming over him with an expression of concern.

"Are you okay?" Aidan's question came into Finley's awareness as though it passed through molasses on the way to his brain.

It took him several moments to respond. "I'm not sure," he admitted honestly, and clutched his head. He closed his eyes and concentrated on putting up his walls. Mushrooms could enhance things without incapacitating him - it was harder than usual, but he could still put up his mental walls. "I think so. What the fuck was any of that?" He asked, looking at his sister askance.

"You asked, and I delivered," she said, pointing to him and then herself with a dramatic eye-roll. "Maybe you learned something from this. Like, I don't know, don't ask for shit!"

"You're such a dick," he decided and sighed. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?"

RJ didn't seem to have an answer and stood up. "I'm taking a piss," she announced to no fanfare and nonetheless marched off back into the house.

"What was all that about?" Aidan wondered.

Finley didn't know how much of it RJ wanted other people to know about, but he also didn't want to withhold anything from Aidan. He answered carefully, "her . . . Her ability is . . . Different than mine. She can feel . . . The memories of everything, all around her. The living, and the dead. Constantly."

"She's really a medium?" Aidan inferred. "You believe her, now?"

"I believe in what I can see and hold," Finley corrected. "I believe in you. And I trust her, to an extent. I just also know her. I mean, it's fucking Jeri. How was I supposed to believe she was telling the truth about this? She lies all the time!"

"Maybe she doesn't," Aidan suggested casually. He didn't seem to be aware at all at how this statement had fundamentally changed something in his and his sister's relationship. Previously, he'd seen himself as the responsible one - going to college, trying to be normal and fit in the way he thought Salvador would want. After he lost Teegan, and then Mara, that illusion disappeared. He knew he was, deep down inside, just as much of a wreck of a person as his sister and brother. They all were equally wrecked and had good reason to be. He used to be angry with RJ for her faults and vices, but now that he had his own share, he realized that it wasn't anger he'd been feeling, but recognition. He had a new appreciation for his sister that he hadn't before. He thought, it's a goddamn fucking miracle she can even function.

Somehow, Finley and Aidan made their way back up to the guest room to go to sleep curled around one another, though Finley didn't remember this exactly happening. He considered the mushroom trip an overall success, until Jeri suddenly barged in their room and shouted, "SHITSHITSHIT FINLEY! I FORGOT ABOUT THE FLIGHT!"

"Jesus damn Christ," Finley muttered and rolled over, squinting at the sudden light overhead that she'd flipped on. He blinked at her a few times before nudging Aidan, who was still asleep and would continue to be asleep well until Armageddon if Finley didn't wake him. "Aidan, Aidan come on, we gotta go."

"Mwa? Whuzzah?" Aidan mumbled and rubbed at his eyes.

He's fucking adorable, Finley thought, but had no time to shower affection on Aidan and so instead he said, "Jeri forgot when the flight was. We gotta pack and go now."

Aidan blinked, and alarm settled in as both of them simultaneously realized they were on the tail-end of the come-down.

"I'll wake up Tim!" RJ decided for herself, and bolted out the door and down the halls, in her socks, shouting, "TIMOTHEEEEE!" at the top of her lungs. She would likely wake up the entire neighborhood.

Finley glanced at his phone on the bedside table and cringed. It was six in the morning, and he hadn't thought the night before to ask for when RJ had booked the flight to Sacramento. Since she was dead and determined to go to Toronto (and still strangely reticent at the same time), they had to return briefly to retrieve their passports before they could cross the border. RJ, apparently thinking ahead, had already packed hers back in Oregon when she got home as she had lost her driver's license awhile back before she went to the hospital, and it was her only form of legal identification.

"Well, at least the flight will be short," Aidan reasoned with a sigh, and rolled out of bed to begin packing, fishing clothes from around the room and quickly, neatly folding them in a pile.

Finley was less fancy and stuffed everything into his duffel in a minute and didn't even glance at himself in the mirror the entire time he brushed his teeth. This was partially due to apathy, and partially due to not getting enough sleep. He was the first one downstairs and ready to go, followed by RJ who raced down and nearly broke her neck with her clonking boots on. Finley caught her before she fell off of the last two steps and helped her right herself and got smacked in the face by her red-stickered guitar case for his efforts as she turned around to pick up her fallen bag.

"Fuck!" Fin shouted, grabbing his nose in pain.

"Oopsy-daisy," RJ said somewhat insincerely.

Aidan sleepily meandered his way down the stairs at that point and blinked behind his glasses, taking everything in. After a moment, he walked over to Finley and dropped his small suitcase at their feet and rested his head on Finley's shoulder tiredly. "Is it time to go yet?" He wondered in the midst of a yawn.

"TIIIIIIM!" RJ chose to scream at that moment, causing them both to cringe.

"Holy fuck, woman!" Aidan literally jolted awake off of Finley's shoulder and glared at Jeri. "There's no call for that shit this early!"

"Quit shouting, goddamn!" Finley objected.

A few seconds later, Timothee bounced down the stairs looking thoroughly awake and refreshed. "Alright, let's do this!" Tim announced and clapped, his face split by a wide white grin. "No time for coffee, let's bounce!" And started to walk out the door toward his vehicle. He had to double back, because he'd forgotten his sandals.

"No time for coffee?" Finley whined and stared up at the ceiling in despair. Aidan hugged him with one arm sympathetically.

It took them a little under an hour to get to LAX due to morning traffic, but they made it to their flight with time to spare, thankfully because RJ had gotten the time wrong accidentally or deliberately. The parting with Tim was teary on RJ's part, but not bittersweet - Finley sincerely wished the man the best and upon parting suggested that he look into hiring a bodyguard or just staying at home until they sorted out what this cult wanted with his sister. Tim promised he'd take that to heart, and they departed hurriedly through ticketing and toward security, before RJ realized she'd gotten the time wrong. They had an hour to spare at least, and once Finley had a cup of coffee from the closest kiosk after security, he felt like he wasn't in a dream anymore and was starting to feel more human.

Now awake and able to process things at a reasonable speed, he turned to his sister who was rifling through a magazine rack for something interesting to read. "Hey," he called over, and she turned her head to acknowledge him. He flipped her off. "That's for hitting me in the nose with your guitar earlier, asshole."

"Fuck yourself," she shot back nonchalantly, and found a sufficiently gossipy magazine to purchase. Aidan came up behind her with an armful of snacks that they dumped on the register for the clerk to check them out, and they reunited with Finley on the way out of the mini-store.

RJ and Finley ended up killing time by taking naps on Aidan's shoulder while he watched lecture videos on his phone and kept an eye on the time. It was unintentional, but Finley felt recharged after that and ready for a change and shower.

The flight to Sacramento was short, and altogether the boarding and departing took longer than the flight itself. Once they were there, it was a simple matter of getting past security, looking for their bags, and hiring a car that could take them back to their condo.

They were largely silent during the process, mostly because RJ herself was oddly subdued and quiet. Normally a riot of noise and laughter, she napped the entire car ride and almost passed out on Finley's couch while they retrieved their passports and cleaned up.

"When's the next one?" Fin wondered in Jeri's direction.

She rolled into a sitting position and looked at her phone for several long seconds as she pulled up the details from her email. "Two hours until Toronto. Uggghhh!" She groaned into the love-seat. "We better get better winter coats when we get there."

"Fuck," Finley blurted, "I left my peacoat in Portland."

"That's what you get, you dirty socialist," Jeri declared.

"Fuck yourself," he repeated her earlier epithet.

"You forgot your coat? I have a spare," Aidan offered, entering the room at that point with a winter coat in his arms that he'd gotten from his closet. He deposited the coat under his arm onto the couch on top of Jeri, quite literally throwing it in her face for her to catch before he turned on his heel and went back to the bedroom to find a second coat.

"Damn it!" Jeri cried out and batted the coat's arms away from her face. "Whatever, I'll just buy warmer shit when we get there."

Finley shrugged and retreated to his own bedroom to find a scarf - that, at least, he knew he had. Aidan returned after a moment with a black coat in vaguely Fin's size, and Fin had grabbed his favorite thick rust-orange scarf that Aidan's mother had knitted him. He felt a little more prepared for the wintry weather when he looked up the forecast in Toronto and noted that sunny skies would greet them for the next few days with only partial clouds and sparse snowfall. It was early November, so the bitter chill would likely not have seeped into the air around them yet, but he expected unpleasant weather.

Their taxi driver, an entirely silent fellow named Naveem (Finley pried his mind a bit and found his silence was less of a language barrier and more of a conscious choice, and he respected it) navigated them quite easily through a circuitous back-route to the airport, giving them more than ample time to get to their boarding area. Security very nearly stole RJ's full flask, but she downed the entire thing (and let out a loud burp afterward in the face of an airport security guard that made him wince and echoed triumphantly in the halls) and managed to get it through. With an hour and a half or so to spare, and now drunk, it seemed to be RJ's goal - in its entirety - to spend all her money at the nearest airport bar and maintain that level of drunkenness like her life depended on it.

"Airports are too fuckin' smelly and noisy," she complained, and this was all she would say on the matter when pressed. Finley could easily empathize - he had his always walls up in airports due to innate discomfort in crowds. Finley had to apologize to Aidan and take off after her with both his and his sister's luggage, just to make sure she didn't get kidnapped at the airport as she suddenly decided to stalk off to the first bar she saw. Aidan followed more sedately, still listening to a lecture in his headphones, rolling his bag behind him.

RJ parked herself in front of a small steakhouse chain's bar and demanded a rum-and-coke as soon as she sat down in front of the painfully sleepless bartender, but then corrected herself and said, "But like, don't drown it in coke okay, actually just make it rum, I don't trust those giant Rachmaninov-hands." She received an expertly poured double shot of rum for her efforts from the annoyed bartender.

Finley sighed and plucked a few stray thoughts from the surface of the man's mind - mostly complaints about what a long day he had ahead of him, and predictions about it judging from RJ's attitude. "Just keep her drunk and she'll be happy," he advised the bartender. He read the name tag on the man's shirt - Brody - and smiled in the friendly way that his sister was just incapable of.

"Let me guess," Brody offered in a deep, rasping voice that belied his orange-haired, freckled, and brown-eyed exterior. ". . . Sister?"

"What gave us away?" Finley politely wondered as he adjusted his and RJ's bags near the feet, securing them to the bar stools.

"Well, I know you're not letting me get your wife drunk this early," Brody chuckled. "Just a guess. What'll it be for you?"

Finley quickly racked his brain for a catalog of every type of poison he'd ever put in his body, and quickly decided - based off of how it made him feel, and the flavor - that gin was the perfect choice. "Tom Collins, make it a double-shot," he decided. "We've got at least an hour, unless Jeri read the time wrong again."

"No! That was just the once! I got us here on time, okay?" Jeri objected, but then abruptly re-focused on her drink. She had pilfered a straw from behind the bar by leaning over it quickly when Brody wasn't looking and was sipping her rum through it like a strange alcoholic child.

"She probably rushed us all on purpose just so she could get here before the flight," Finley mused his own thoughts out loud. "And by here, I mean the bar."

"Classic Jeri," Aidan agreed as he approached from behind Finley's shoulder. He dropped his case near their feet as well and took the seat next to Fin, bumping his elbow into Finley's deliberately. Fin turned to look at him and couldn't resist the smile that came over his face.

RJ sipped loudly at her spiced rum.

"What'll it be for you, sir?" Brody addressed Aidan with respect.

Aidan glanced down at Finley's choice, then RJ's, shrugged, and decided, "I'll have a Long Island, emphasis on the long."

Brody nodded and began mixing while Aidan got settled in his seat. Aidan carefully put away his phone and headphones that he'd been wearing, and Finley - knowing him - knew he was most likely listening to lectures. Aidan was nothing, if not studious. They watched as the bartender mixed four different types of equally dangerous alcohol, with generous portions, into a mixer with ice and orange liqueur and finally poured it over more ice into a tall glass with a straw for Aidan. Finley's best friend looked highly pleased with himself when he received the offering and sipped delicately at it. His face lit up. "Now that . . . Is strong. And delicious!"

Fin laughed. "It's a rum-and-gin kind of day. Oh, and she's paying," he added as an afterthought, indicating toward his sister.

RJ, having heard him but being too focused on her rum to care, flipped him off and shrugged.

Brody smiled, and soon retreated to clean something in another area of the restaurant - Fin had never been a bartender, but Teegan had for at least a year and a half of him knowing her, and he knew a good one when he saw one. If he had his way, Brody would get a fat tip by the end of their adventure.

Almost as soon as the bartender had fled the scene, RJ was scrambling off of her barstool and getting her feet caught in the luggage, and promptly fell over onto her rear end. Somehow, she managed to save her drink, spilling only a little on her leather jacket, but it was mostly empty besides. Fin turned to laugh at her antics, only to meet the creepy, golden eyes of Ramiel sitting on the barstool on RJ's other side.

"Oh," Fin blurted out, carelessly, "it's you. You here to deliver more bullshit portents, or just to tell my sister how doomed she is? We got enough doom, man. Fuck off already."

"Who are you—oh what the fuck!" Aidan blurted as he sipped at his Long Island and peered around Finley's shoulders to get a good look at their surprise visitor.

Ramiel was there, dressed in a golden-hued flowing toga-looking wrap that with his features made him look like an unconventional monk. He blinked, nonplussed at Aidan's interjection, and locked eyes with RJ on the floor who was still scrambling to upright herself while maintaining her hold on her glass of rum. She accomplished this and scrambled in place, eventually shuffling until she was next to Finley's shoulder and slightly behind him, almost as if she were hiding but couldn't be bothered to find a better hiding place. She sipped at her drink and glared at Ramiel, unimpressed. Finley couldn't help but chuckle.

Aidan peered over Finley's other shoulder and addressed Ramiel. "How do you keep doing that, exactly?" He asked.

Ramiel cocked his head to one side. "Do what?" He intoned.

"Appear and disappear randomly wherever we are. Are you watching us? How else do you know where to show up all the time?" Aidan legitimately asked, and it was a good question, something Finley had been wondering himself but wouldn't have thought to ask.

"I am always watching," Ramiel answered, which didn't reassure Finley at all, whatsoever, in any way.

Fin sipped at his Tom Collins. "So, you're some kind of stalker, then," hef surmised. No way this guy's really an angel, Fin thought. Angels are dweebs, if that's the case.

Ramiel blinked again, and then answered in that slow, deliberate voice of his, "I am here to deliver—"

"Doomy portents!" RJ guessed, accurately. "We know!" She guffawed. "Just deliver your fuckin' portents already and go back to stalking me from a cosmic distance, you fuckin' creep!"

Ramiel seemed to take what she said to heart and nodded quite seriously. "Very well. Asmodeus knows the Prodigal Son is near and is searching for him. You must find him before he does, or all will be lost. Only with you, Rose of Jericho, and the Prodigal Son working together can you survive and stop the coming apocalypse."

Finley laughed, reflexively. "Apocalypse?" He repeated dubiously. "You never mentioned a damn apocalypse before. You'd think that'd be something you'd tell a guy before teleporting on him twice without even saying hello or goodbye."

Ramiel blinked, and this time, his answer somehow seemed more serious than even before. He was completely monotone as he reported, "This world of humans will meet its end, if Asmodeus should bring his god into it. He can only do so with your cooperation."

"Well, he doesn't have it!" RJ shot out defiantly. "I ain't a cooperative motherfucker! Just ask my band!"

"How is he planning to—" Fin started to ask, but then Ramiel dissolved into the air again and Brody moved back behind the bar, and all was silent, and still, in his wake. "Does he seriously just show up to repeat stuff and tell us how doomed we are?" Fin wondered aloud and sipped at his Tom Collins.

"I dunno," RJ eloquently responded and sipped at the last of her rum. She put it back down on the bar and took her seat next to Finley again, buried her head in her arms, and sighed.

"Was someone just—" Brody began, and then shook his head, seeming disoriented. "I could've sworn I—oh never mind," he decided and started to maneuver glasses around behind the bar. Fin scanned the surface of Brody's thoughts and discovered a vague memory of seeing Ramiel at the bar between them from a distance, but it was distorted with a strange feeling that Finley could only describe as 'white noise.' It's as if the memory itself was made of water and slipped too easily from Brody's grasp. Fin decided to leave his brain as it was - it would be better if people didn't see Ramiel, with his disappearing man act. The last thing we need is more attention, Fin internally reasoned.

"Well, that was ridiculous," Aidan decided for all of them. He downed about half of his Long Island in two generous sips.

"You said it," RJ agreed vehemently and shook her glass at Brody, silently demanding a refill. He took the glass from her without comment as she told him, "Gonna need at least two more of those — and don't poison it with soda this time, just give it to me neat."

For once, Finley couldn't argue with his sister's urge to drink in response to strange magical drama. It seemed to be their only solace for the moment. They finished their beverages largely in silence and managed to get to their gate on time. RJ had secured them first class tickets, and took the first seat herself, once more forcing Aidan and Finley to sit together. Fin found he didn't mind at all and even preferred it that way - Aidan's shoulder was a comfortable place to nap, and Fin wasn't too distracted with other people's thoughts on this particular flight with Aidan next to him. He went to sleep quickly, and thankfully without dreams, and woke up just as the captain began to announce their descent into the wintry city of Toronto.