Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Today marks the tenth anniversary of the death of one of the nation’s most famous serial killers. The one who ruled Maryland, the man we thought was acting on his own, who was in fact a front for the Japanese Mafia, the Butcher of Baltimore: Nathan Wesninski.”

“No,” Neil turned off the T.V with a grimace and his toothbrush in his mouth. He’d rushed from the bathroom at the first sentence, drooling toothpaste on his way staining his shirt and hurt his thigh. “Shit.” He returned to the bathroom in a slower pace, to finish brushing his teeth and change his shirt.

Although the timing was laughable, today was the start of the project he spent two years to build; Neil Josten was officially an exy coach. For kids, yes, but an exy coach nonetheless. After Neil was sent to Palmetto by the witness protection program, he had nothing to believe in nor anything to rely on. Being mostly self-taught and without any reliable degree to show employers, he couldn’t hope for any conventional work.

As he searched for anything to do – really anything to busy his mind – he had come to the realization that the only thing that had helped him to cope and keep up with the troubles of his life was exy. It had always been exy. By his age and physical disability, playing at a professional level was impossible. Yes, Neil had been good when he was playing, but that was then, now he was just the shadow of his former self.

Neil had first emitted the idea of the project to help the youth through exy to his current psychiatrist who was amazed by his idea and ready to help. She’d given him contact with the notable exy coach of Palmetto State University, who apparently had a taste for lost causes, David Wymack. Mr. Wymack had been doing for half his career to college students exy players what Neil wanted to do for younger kids.

With his help, the project quickly took on an associative form, based on the financial participation of the parents and the social services with which he would work. The majority of the children would come from the foster care system and would be divided into different groups based on their age. It was the vast idea Neil had been working on and investing all of his time for the past two years, taking classes on education and reading everything he could on the subject as well as being trained to be a coach. The last two years had been busy but it had been, by far, the best years of his life.

Total freedom was still new to Neil Josten, and though it sometimes tasted like a candy that was too sweet, overwhelming his senses and his fears, he was content to discover every aspect of freedom step by step.

The way to the sports facility, that Neil had rented for the allotted hours of practice with the kids, was a five-minute walk from Neil’s flat.  The facility included the bare minimum, lockers, showers and a rather small soccer field. The field was easily convertible into an exy court but Neil would have to set up the court by himself every time. The building in itself was somewhat dilapidated and obviously the city (the actual owner of the facility) didn’t care enough to think about renovations. The outside walls were dull greyish and looked similar to a prison or too close to a psychiatric institution (Neil was very familiar with those). Grey was Neil’s favorite color however it certainly didn’t do any favor to the structure. It wasn’t much but Neil requested (and it was accepted) to decorate the interior to add colors for the children so it wasn’t as bland as the exterior.

The positive aspect of the facility was that Neil had access to a storage room big enough to be used as an office and to store the gears and racquets of the kids. Once arrived, Neil got the field and the equipment ready. After arranging the cones for both fun and educational drills, Neil reviewed the files of the kids he would meet today. He would meet the 9-12 years old and he expected eight of them.

“God, that’s a lot,” he said aloud.

Neil had waited for this moment for the past two years, and yet, the anxiety spiking in his stomach wouldn’t smother. He couldn’t erase his doubts and fears. The scars on his face were telling more about his life than he would like to, the limp on bad days raised too much questions that he wasn’t ready to answer. Neil was about to be seen by kids who would demand and who would potentially be afraid. Neil didn’t want to inspire them fear but survival and that if he could have made it, they could as well. Neil rejected to be portrayed as a life lesson to grown adults and their pitiful eyes, though. He only wished to help children through a sport he had always been passionate about. It was quite a childish wish when he thought about it, but maybe he was allowed that much in his life.

The soft knock on the door startled him and brought him back from his thoughts. He composed himself, cleared his throat to utter “Yes?”

The door opened to expose two blond little girls seemingly twins, and a short blond man. Neil didn’t need an extensive analyze to tell that they unmistakably shared blood. Apples definitively never fell too far from the apple tree.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Neil inquired with a professional smile as he stood up. Although the man didn’t flinch at the view of his scars, his eyes inevitably wandered longer than necessary on Neil’s face.

“Hi,” the man lifted his eyes to land straight into Neil’s. He held his hand to check Neil’s, he opened his mouth to explain the reason of his visit but he was cut off by one of the girls “is it true that you’re an exy coach for children? That’s awesoooome!”

“Francesca, you didn’t even say hello. I’m sorry, she’s quite excited to play exy,” the man explained, fondly. “I’m Aaron Minyard, the father of those two,” he patted the head of the two girls. “Do you still have a spot available for a desperate child?”

“I’m not desperate dad, I just wanna play.”

Neil chuckled a bit at the situation, “that’s fine. For the spot, it depends. How old are you?” He addressed directly to Francesca.

“I’m ten!” she answered.

“Then, I have a spot for you,” he turned towards the other girl still hiding behind his father, “and you, you’re not interested?”

She shook her head as only response, not that it mattered to Neil how she did. “Okay, so just I’ll find the registration’s form.” He rummaged in the drawer of his desk to find one. “Oh, please, sit, it may take a while.” Three chairs were already at the front of his desk, Francesca jumped on one as fast as she could when the other one followed her father closely.

“Fanny loves dancing, like mom, so she’s not interested about exy, I think she would be the best if she tried,” Francesca continued.

“Dancing sounds fun,” Neil’s lips curled slightly.

“Do you like dancing…?” Fanny inquired so quietly that Neil almost missed it. Neil noticed the disclosed surprise on Mr Minyard’s face, Neil supposed her speaking to a stranger was a rare occurrence.

“Hm, I never had the chance to try, unfortunately. I would love to, though.” Fanny smiled and hid her face with one of her hands. Neil smiled back at her before bringing his attention to the father.

“I’m sorry, I like talking with kids first to know if they’re comfortable enough, I don’t want to force them into anything. So, for the registration’s form,” Neil slid the papers in front of Aaron with a pen. “If possible and if you don’t mind giving me the contacts of both the parents and a third person, if not, it’s fine. Not everyone has that many people around. There is a set of internal rules that you can read with Francesca, but most are about mutual respect and safety. The registration’s fees are written on the third page. And lastly, I’d rather know if the kids have any trigger, any words, any dislike that can be avoided if I am aware.”

Francesca urged herself to shout “I don’t like broccolis!!!!”

Neil laughed (and it had been a long time since he laughed), “then it’s safe that we’re not eating together, but well, even if we did, I don’t like broccolis either.” He muttered the end of his sentence as though he was entrusted her with a secret.

“Don’t encourage her,” Aaron rolled his eyes but he was grinning.

“I realize I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Neil Josten, but you can call me Neil, I’m not fond of formalities.”

Aaron nodded. Francesca bounced her legs on her chair raised her hand to show she had something to say so Neil eyed her, “Neil, when is the first exy lesson?”

“Well, you’re lucky, the course for kids your age is in an hour, you’re obviously allowed to stay and give it a try so you can be sure.”

“I am very suure, but will Lia be there?”

Neil skimmed through his memories of the kids registered for the different courses and he, indeed, remembered of a certain Lia Boyd, “hm, Lia Boyd, is it? I believe she’s on the course for the 6-8 years old so she unfortunately won’t be there today. Are you friends?”

“Yes, she’s the one who said she was going to play exy this year, and she told us about you.”

Neil pursued the conversation with Francesca, implemented by Fanny’s (very) few inputs while Aaron filled the form. The twins were each other’s carbon copy. Still, Neil spotted one difference; Fanny’s one shade darker hair. Both had hazel eyes that were mildly deeper than their fathers. After half an hour with the family, the name Minyard felt familiar but he couldn’t exactly tell where he heard it.

Aaron and Fanny were about to leave when Neil received an impromptu call. Neil excused himself and picked up the phone without checking the number, an exercise his current psychiatrist to challenge his paranoia. It wasn’t easy but he was making progress.

“Hello?”

“Hi Neil, how are you today?”

Talking about his psychiatrist, she was the one challenging him today, “Hi Betsy, I’m… okay, I am with a parent right now so I can’t talk with you as much as I would.”

“Oh, this is fine, I call because I need to reschedule our next appointment, we were supposed to see each other tomorrow morning but I have a medical appointment myself that I can’t reschedule at all. Are you available tomorrow in the afternoon?”

“Unfortunately, my Tuesday’s afternoons are going to be devoted to the juvie’s practices. But Wednesday morning, I’m completely free.”

Thanks to the social services he was working with, the Palmetto’s juvenile detention center contacted him recently to express the shortage and need of a coach for their sport program that happened to be exy. As he coached only three lessons a week with his newfound association, he accepted to complete the role they asked for.  

“Is 10 am good for you?” Betsy suggested.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good, then, good luck for your first day.”

“Thank you, Betsy, have a good afternoon. I might call you later.” Neil warned, then hung up.

“Excuse me. So, I need to sign this paper and we’re all good,” Neil signed the form to finalize Francesca’s registration.

“Excuse my rudeness, but it’s a funny coincidence, Betsy used to be my therapist as well when I was still a college student. She’s still my brother’s, although I’m convinced their sessions have more in common with a tea party than an actual therapy session.” Aaron revealed honestly.

Neil wasn’t ashamed to have a therapist, not anymore, but he was slightly uncomfortable sharing about it. In the end, he settled on, “she’s a good woman, one of the best therapists I ever had.”

Aaron snorted, “my brother would agree with you.” He paused a moment and finally said “well, we need to go Fanny, we can’t to be late. Fae-a, honey, be polite and good.” he patted Francesca’s head one last time and disappeared with Fanny.

Neil had fifteen minutes to kill with Francesca before the arrival of the other kids, so he asked her questions exy related, what position she was interested, who was her favorite players if she knew any. She said that she’d love to be a backliner like her father but that the goalkeeper’s position was neat (her words). Neil learned that it was her uncle “Drew” ’s position when they played together and that he was cooler than her father (but it was a secret).

The kids came one by one, sometimes alone, sometimes with parents or foster parents. Neil recalled the rules to respect that were ‘no mockery towards the teammates or the coach, no discrimination, no violence outside of exy, no touching without consent outside of exy’ and a few others. He showed them their gears and racquets, and Neil was delighted to note the wonder in the eyes of some of kids. For a few of them, it was the first time they had something for themselves. Even though it was sad, Neil was glad to offer them this something.

After introductions, the children changed into their gears and ran a few laps and drills. He wrote down his observations of the days; Francesca really would be an amazing goalkeeper as she wished, Victor’s polyvalence would be a strength on a dealer position, and Ana’s rapidity would be an advantage for a striker.  Of course, the decisions weren’t only his, he intended on hearing their position’s preferences, it was supposed to be a fun moment for them in the week and not a pressuring competition.

The three hours practice passed off smoothly. Neil managed not to break down in the middle of the practice, too overwhelmed by dealing with too many kids. That was the worst scenario he imagined and it had been perfectly avoided. 

The euphoria of having experienced something new had begun to wear off, and his thoughts wormed back to the circle they’re used to on this particular anniversary. He decided to go for a run, he switched his regular leg prosthetic for his running one he had brought with him to the sports facility the eve. He prepared himself massaging his limb hydrating it with a cream. He stretched and after locking out his office, and facility, he ran. He focused on his breath, on the impact of his foot on the concrete and the vibrations of his fake leg. It was a poor attempt to forget that ten years in the past, he’d been nothing, nothing but flesh with no mind left. Being freed from captivity and daily torture was somewhat a meager reward for someone so broken that their soul vanished, that only death could salvage.

He stopped to run a hand down his face, running wasn’t enough anymore to erase the thoughts, he was too conscious of his handicapped body. He wasn’t going to panic, the same way he did alright last year, this year was synonym of progress. He scanned his surroundings and saw a bookshop; it wasn’t on his plan for the day but he needed to buy yet another educational book Betsy recommended him. He was sweaty but didn’t care.

He recognized his mistake as soon as he entered the bookshop, today apparently marked the release of the newest book covering the story of the Butcher of Baltimore. Because of fucking course, there was no best publicity stunt than releasing a book on a serial killer the day of his tenth death anniversary. The book was displayed on every front shelf, Neil could read the title in every angle; The Butcher: from a feared serial killer to a mafia tool. Neil scoffed and scowled, he refrained himself from destroying the whole bookstore. Still, he approached a shelf and grabbed a copy of the book and…

Oh.

Oh.

That was where he heard it.

The name Minyard.

Andrew Minyard.

The criminology professor, obsessed with the Butcher of Baltimore. It wasn’t the first time the man had written about Nathan Wesninski, he’d mentioned the serial killer number of times in the past and had already one book dedicated to the man. At some point, Neil had wondered if Andrew Minyard wasn’t one of those weird fan girls sending love letters to serial killers. He would absolutely send them if Nathan was alive. Probably.

Andrew wasn’t just a famous criminologist, he also contributed to dismantle the second branch of the Moriyama during his college years by playing exy after offering protection to his friend Kevin Day. Neil felt stupid for not remembering when he had met Aaron that they had all been Foxes, the very same college team Mr. Wymack was still coaching.

Neil had read Andrew Minyard’s past works to please his bizarre curiosity. Neil couldn’t help but be upset at Minyard’s talent and precision to pinpoint the murderers’ psychology and modus operandi. Minyard’s profiling and dissections were scientific and clinical which made them accurate and great. Minyard was acclaimed by the critics and his books were several times best sellers for a reason. To Neil, he was as detestable as he was admirable.

Neil threw away the book in his hand with disregard, he’s been stuck there for too long to not be suspicious, especially with his looks. Neil turned away to walk to the educational books section when he heard a low voice of a man behind him.

“You could have asked for an autograph. I’d gladly sign a copy,” the tone was explicitly sarcastic. Neil faced the man; he easily recognized the twin brother of Aaron Minyard. Dressed in full black, Andrew Minyard must have been watching him for a few minutes already because his eyebrows imperceptibly frowned. There was no judgment over his scars in the man’s gaze but he searched Neil’s face as if he would find all the answers life didn’t give him.

Neil was aware of his appearance, the auburn hair and ice-blue eyes that resembled the Butcher. Standing in front of a fake altar dedicated to the Butcher did him no good. Entering the bookstore had been a mistake.

Neil knew.

He was fucked and he wanted to run.

Chapter Text

He was fucked and he wanted to run.

So, he did. He ran faster than he ever did with his prosthetic. The same way he would have if he’d met his old demons alive – despite them being six feet under already. If Andrew Minyard hadn’t realized his identity yet, he would now. He left the bookstore as if his life depended on it, and maybe it did. Recognition was too dangerous, too close to his truths. Whatever Andrew Minyard saw, Neil felt seen and scrutinized and he couldn’t allow it.

Perhaps, it was his paranoia crushing him, it wouldn’t be the first time (nor the last) but his mind wasn’t clear enough to care. With his speed, the wind of the early evening battered his skin. Still, he continued running, his surroundings fading and shifting into fuzzy lights in his peripheral vision. His throat tightened in a knot, the nausea clambering into his stomach at the stench of the hot summer’s melted concrete, confusing it with melting skin. He jolted his head for the sensations to die out, in vain. He stopped his course to take in his surroundings once again, to find somewhere to go, anywhere the ambient smells wouldn’t paralyze his senses.

Neil half expected to be in an unknown street but his body unconsciously returned a street away to the sport facility. He shouldn’t be visiting the facility this late but he was too sweaty, too shaken, too sick to dwell on the thought.

Once inside, he locked himself in his office, taking a deep breath to clear the smells that clung to his nose. He sat on the ground against a wall, and picked his phone out of his pocket to call Betsy.

“Hello Neil, how are you?”

“Hello Betsy.”

Neil didn’t remember when it became instinctive for him to call his therapist when he had a panic attack. Fifteen years ago, it’d have been unthinkable, he didn’t trust therapists or their ability to probe one’s mind. And yet, here he was, calling Betsy Dobson, his mandatory therapist he met two years ago.

The years he spent in a psychiatric hospital only half helped. Yes, they’d put the shattered pieces of his soul and body back together, but their way had been too intrusive, too pushy, and he’d hated every second of it.

“Neil?” Betsy’s voice reached him again. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“It was a fine day… until it wasn’t,” he sighed, then breathed in and out like Betsy usually tell him to. “I was at the bookstore and I think someone recognized me.”

“Were they someone from your past?” Betsy asked.

“No, he seemed to know my father’s story quite well, he was in front of the shelf of the newest book about the Butcher” Neil told her vaguely, scratching a scar on his leg abstractedly.

Obviously, Neil wasn’t one to talk about his history but his medical files had always been transferred from one therapist to the next. He never went over the details with Betsy, but she knew the Butcher was his father. The FBI, the witness protection program workers and therapists (past and current) were the only ones aware of his original identity. For his safety, they had said, they couldn’t reveal anything to anyone because they were bound by their professional secrecy, they had promised.

To Neil, they weren’t trustworthy, but he didn’t exactly have a say in the matter.

“Are you sure he recognized you? Did he tell you?” Betsy inquired once more with her natural calm and neutral tone.

“He looked at me like he did. He didn’t have the time to speak, I freaked out and ran away,” Neil admitted. “It’s even more suspicious now.”

“It frightens you, the potentiality of being recognized?”

“I don’t want to be seen, to be scrutinized by a public that only cares about sensational stories. If this man reveals my identity, it means I have to leave again. I like Palmetto, I want to settle down and stay here. I’m tired of moving.”

“This is an understandable and genuine feeling. I think we have talked about this before but, anxiety and human’s fears mostly rest on uncertainty, of hypothetical scenarios human’s brain create. The man you’ve met in a certain circumstance made you think he recognized your real identity and your brain interpreted it. Even if, hypothetically, he did recognize you, nothing confirms you that he will disclose your identity.” Betsy rationalized, like she always did. Her rationalizations generally calmed him, however right now, he wasn’t sure.

“If you weren’t a therapist, bound by professional secrecy, would you reveal an identity like mine if you knew?” Neil questioned.

“Well, it is hard to get a hold of this hypothetical situation,” she paused, humming and Neil heard her drink a sip (Neil guessed it was a hot chocolate, it was her favorite she had once told him). “I think I wouldn’t. I’m not fond of gossip, even outside my work. Not everyone likes gossips.”

Did Andrew Minyard enjoy gossip? It wasn’t unlikely, especially if it involved the Butcher. But, like Betsy said, it wasn’t a certitude. When Neil thought about it, Andrew Minyard never mentioned Nathan’s wife and son in his books, even though it was common knowledge that they had existed at some point.

Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski had been officially declared dead for years now although their bodies had never been found. Mary’s remains were buried somewhere in a creek along the California coast. Neil knew. He was the one who buried her burnt bones and flesh there. The FBI threatened him countless times, interrogating him to figure out where she was buried, but he never gave in. It was his secret and her last moment; he’ll carry it with him to his grave.

Neil stifled a nervous laughter, “so, it’s just me being paranoid. Again.”

“I can’t say,” Betsy conceded. “Your fears are justifiable, your brain just focused on the hypothetical aspects of the situation like it had been programmed to do for a long time.”

So, he was being paranoid.

“Neil, I told you this already but healing isn’t an exponential curve, it comes with ups and downs, mental health isn’t as stable as people want it to be. Downs can be progress too, you’re doing good.”

“It’s been ten years. I shouldn’t be acting like it just happened,” Neil countered.

“It’s actually been only a year that you’ve been freed from perpetrators. Your father wasn’t acting alone,” Betsy accurately pointed out.

She was right, Neil couldn’t argue. It didn’t make him feel better, though.

“Are you alone tonight, Neil? I heard you were invited to David’s to celebrate your first day. He invited me as well but I thought it would be awkward.”

Neil was silent for a moment. He had completely forgot about Mr. Wymack’s invitation. “I was about to shower and get ready before calling you,” he lied. “I think Mr. Wymack wouldn’t like me to be too late. I think I’ll need to go Betsy.”

Neil heard her smile through the phone, “if you’re feeling better, it’s the only thing that matters.”

“I do, thank you, Besty. See you on Wednesday.”

“See you, Neil.”

Neil hung up and stood up, helping himself with the wall. He almost decided to take his shower at the facility so that he could simply walk home to get his car and drive to Mr. Wymack and his wife’s house. But it implied he had to be extra careful not to slip since he didn’t have his usual bathroom safety gear here. He changed his running prosthetic leg for his ordinary activity one before going back home.

Once home, he hurried to his shower. he didn’t dawdle, too conscious of his scarred body for today and too late to take his time. He dressed with a too big worn-out navy-blue shirt and large faded jeans.

David and Abigail Wymack lived in a one-story house about a five-minute drive from Neil’s home. From the outside, their residence was a typical suburban house. Albeit the house was bigger than what Neil expected; it probably had at least one or two extra guest rooms. Two cars were already parked on the driveway, so Neil parked directly in front of the house.

The door opened quickly after he knocked and was met by a graying brown-haired woman, she was slightly taller than him, he immediately guessed it was Mrs Wymack. “Hi, you must be Neil Josten? David talked a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Mrs Wymack.”

She smiled at him, ignoring – on purpose – his scars and said, “you can call me Abby, David told me you didn’t want to drop the Mr. to his name. I won’t force you, but you should think about it.”

Neil nodded. Mr Wymack had indeed asked several times during the last two years but their relationship being purely professional, Neil couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, the man was old enough to be his father, and despite Mr Wymack turned out to be a good man, Neil remained aloof. Nowadays, Mr Wymack, who was the association’s second endorser, tried to include Neil in social activities. Today’s invitation wasn’t the first Neil received, but it was the first he accepted. Mr Wymack assumed that Neil was isolated. The older man wasn’t wrong, but Neil refused his pity. Still, he ended up accepting, thinking that meeting people might reduce his mistrust.

He entered the house and heard several voices speaking, he didn’t discern what they were talking about, though.

“We apologize for not telling you that we have unannounced guests. They’re old players from David’s team, I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but if it does, we can ask them to leave.”

Neil’s heart rate ramped up in his chest, not exactly recovered from his friction with Andrew Minyard. Hopefully, neither he nor his brother would be here. He replied, “it’s fine.”

“Great. David is taking a shower, he shouldn’t be long. I’m cooking lasagnas for dinner, do you like lasagnas?”

“Yes,” Neil answered. The nice mix of spices incensed the hallway, it was appetizing.

“Go to the den,” Abby said, pointing her finger in a direction. “You will meet Matt and Renee there. I have to finish the food preparation and set the table.” The smile she offered him was particularly caring.

Neil nodded and followed the direction she pointed out. The den was cozy, the couch backed against the wall facing a relatively large TV. The couch, the armchairs and the floor were sprinkled with plaids and cushions. A woman with white her and pastel tips held a mug in her hands. She was sitting on the couch, facing a tall black man. His hair was styled in a mid-long braid.

His presence was promptly noticed; when the man’s gaze (Matt he supposed) lingered on his scar, Renee looked past them. They both grinned broadly and got up from where they were sitting.

“Hi, you must be Neil Josten?” Matt asked, “Wymack, Dan and Lia told me about you. I wasn’t there for Lia’s registration for the exy lessons, but I wanted to meet you at one point. Matt Boyd, by the way.” He offered his hand that Neil grabbed to give him a firm shake. Neil assumed the man was Lia Boyd’s father and Dan Boyd’s husband.

Neil sincerely smiled back, “nice to meet you, I’m always glad to meet the kids’ parents.”

Renee presented her hand that Neil caught and said “I’m Renee Walker, I don’t have a kid but I heard about you too, your project is quite popular among the social services.” Neil couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the familiar dangerousness in her stare, a little too much like his. It certainly didn’t add up with the cross around her neck.

He set the thought aside and replied, “oh, are you working for the social services?”

“I do. I’m trying to help making it a better place,” Renee’s gaze turned fierce and soft at the same time. “Some people might disagree and think it’s an unsalvageable system, but if I can help even one kid, that’s already a success.”

“I agree with you, that’s the least we could do for them,” Neil said.

“Man, I like you already,” Matt confessed. The man was about to lad his hand on Neil’s shoulder but Neil shifted at the last second to escape the touch.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like being touched by people I just met,” Neil explained.

“Oh no, I’m the one to be sorry, I should have asked first,” Man held his hands in the air as though he was surrendering. Neil was pleasantly surprised that someone understood and didn’t ask question.

“Neil, you came,” Mr Wymack arrived in the den, his loud voice almost resonating in the room. “You need to tell me about the first day. But first maggots, the food is ready.”

Neil felt like a child about to say his parents how his first day school went and was somewhat embarrassed. Wymack wished to celebrate the consecration of Neil’s project but if Neil was being honest, this project was also Wymack's. He signed so the association could be created and helped with every step in his free time.

They moved to the dining room, which was much more sober than the den, though just as charming. Few courtesies and civilities were exchanged before they began to eat. Not that it was hard, but Abby’s lasagnas were the best he had ever eaten. Then, Neil proceeded to recount the events of the day (minus his encounter with Andrew), but he did talk about Aaron and Francesca. Francesca’s excitement seemed to amuse them.

“So, how long have you been in Palmetto?” Matt questioned curious, jabbing a piece of lasagna with his fork.

“Two years,” Neil replied. He anticipated their next questions by adding “I was in New York before and Chicago before that. I travelled a lot.” It was a secret that he was in the witness protection program but it didn’t matter if he said that much. He had flirted between lies and truths since he was born anyway.

“Wow, cool,” Matt commented. “When did you started to play exy?”

“I started playing when I was six, stopped at ten. I played again in high school and played in a small city club after that. Eventually, I definitely stopped playing at 22,” Neil finished.

They didn’t ask why, which Neil was grateful for. They most likely could fathom the reasons from his face without any truth spoken. However, the mood faintly worsened.

Abby changed the subject instantly, “Matt, you didn’t tell us why Dan and Lia didn’t come tonight.”

“Oh, Lia’s starting school on Wednesday, so they have a girl’s night.”

Renee chuckled, “that makes me think that with Allison, we’re planning a girl’s night with all the girls. That means we’re kidnapping Dan, Lia, Katelyn and the twins, we need to find the date now. We need our schedule to match, Abby you’re welcome as well.”

“Sounds nice,” Abby laughed.

“Who’s Allison?” Neil inquired; it was the only name new to his ears.

“My girlfriend,” Renee smiled happily. “It’s quite rare for someone to not know of Allison Reynolds.”

“Is she famous?”

 “Oh yeah, even Kevin can’t compete. She’s a queen in the fashion industry, but with your three outfits you mustn’t know much about fashion,” Wymack mocked without heat.

“I have more than three, my wardrobe tripled in the past two years,” Neil argued.

Wymack rolled his eyes and the others giggled. It had been a long time since he felt so comfortable around people, it was civil, it was a nice and agreeable company. To be fair, he had never contemplated the idea of having friends – even with his distrustful nature aside – besides his mother, he never needed anyone for his survival.  He had never thought about his own loneliness, because him being alone was the way things were meant to be. It wasn’t meant to be questioned. His mother had taught him not to talk to people as she had considered it too risky to stand out, but Neil was now sure that it was also out of paranoia. It wouldn’t have been fatal for him to speak to kids his age at school.

Recently, his mind had been solely focused on the association, so he hadn’t put much thought about his relationships with people. It wasn’t as if these people were his friends, but questions arose about being surrounded rather than alone. In any case, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to trust anyone.

“Neil, we’re celebrating Abby’s birthday on Saturday, you’re not forced to come in any way, but know that you’re invited,” Wymack offered. Neil looked at him, confused. Why would he invite him to Abby’s birthday? He barely met her. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I like you being around kid.”

“Uhm… thank you, Wymack…” Neil said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Wymack looked please hearing his name with the ‘Mr’ dropped.

The discussions continued some more, but time passed and it was getting late. Matt and Renee eventually decided to leave first. They both asked for his phone number so they could “stay in touch”. Neil accepted, knowing he wouldn’t be the one to reach out first.

Wymack suggested him to go to the backyard to share a cigarette before Neil had to leave. Neil gladly accepted. Wymack handed him a cigarette that they both knew Neil would only smoke passively, inhaling the acrid smoke. Wymack never questioned it, he probably thought it was one of Neil’s many issues.

Leaning against the foundation wall of the house, Neil watched at the vaguely visible stars, obscured by the active city’s pollution. Still, the air felt fresh in his lungs. Since the beginning of the evening, question had been buzzing around his brain. Finally, he asked Wymack, “you seem close to those two and to the old team, are you this close to every generation of foxes?”

“I’d lie to you if I said I were this close to every team of foxes I’ve built,” Wymack answered honestly. “What we went through with this team fifteen years ago was terrible shit, but it naturally and forcefully brought us closer as a team. It made us stronger. That was the first year the Foxes ever won, the year I found out I had a son, too. Pretty shocking I admit,” he scoffed. “So, even if some of those foxes are lone wolves, they’re still around or they’re catching up when they come back.”

“This is what happens when you fight a branch of the Mafia,” Neil shrugged sarcastically.

“Oh, so you know?”

“Not the specifics, though” Neil lied. “When you’re interested in exy, you have to come across with the news at some point in time, especially if you’re following Kevin Day’s career.”

“That’s fair,” Wymack paused. “Talking about Kevin, he’s going to be here for Abby’s birthday so don’t shit your pants.”

Neil chuckled, “I won’t. Do I look like I’m easily intimidated?”

“No,” Wymack laughed. It was a half lie, Wymack had to remember how Neil had stayed out of Wymack’s reach when they first met. “Well, now get your ass out of my house, I’m old and need my sleep.”

Neil himself started to get tired, he willingly executed Wymack’s order and after goodbyes he went back home.

Chapter Text

The sun was still rising in the orange-pink sky when Neil woke up. Through the past ten years, waking up in the early hours became more of a habit than it was a survival matter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full and good night sleep. Ironically, the time he’d spent on the run with his mother had been the healthiest sleep schedule he’d ever had. His mother had cared so little for his physical health but somewhat she did make sure he got at least five to six hours sleep each night – which wasn’t perfect for a teenager. When they weren’t chased, obviously.

Neil rolled out of his bed and grabbed his prosthetic to adjust it on his thigh. He hesitated an instant to go for a run but decided against it. His muscles were sore from his run the evening before. He had used up too much energy and needed a day off from running. Sure, he was still a healthy athletic man, but he was also missing half a leg while being in his thirties. Over time, Neil had had to learn to listen to his body’s needs.

Instead, he chose to make of his morning a productive one, since he was feeling a lot better than the eve. He prepared a shaker with fruits and proteins to hydrate his sore muscles and some biscuits, then, he sprawled onto his couch with administrative paperwork ready on the coffee table. He turned the TV on, on an exy channel, because of course it was the only channel he ever watched.

Neil had a conflicted relationship with silence, that was the only reason he owned a TV. During his time on the road, silence meant he was safe, so he’d enjoyed its company. Later though, silence grew into a synonym of ‘waiting’, waiting for the worst to come. So now, he’d rather listening to the nasal voices of exy commentators than to silence.

He looked at the pile of papers and started to dispatch it in order of importance. Accounting came first, sponsorship demands and the sustainment of the ones already established were second. He set aside the files of his players for now. He intended to study their play and games and forge their statistics as long as they were playing for him, but one session with only one group was definitely too soon. He didn’t care about how young they were, if they ended up liking exy, having a file with accurate statistics to show recruiters would be at their advantage.

Finally, he attended to his favorite task, accounting. A logic task with predictable numbers – except maybe sometimes, with taxes. After spending a few hours on it, he moved to the next, until a name he heard on TV caught his attention.

“Kevin Day will be interviewed in Kathy Ferdinand’s Show on Saturday, what do you expect him to announce?” The commentator asked to a fan.

“He most likely will announce his retirement with the next season being his last. I won’t lie, farewells will be sad, but it’s already amazing how far he went.”

“Indeed, thirty-five is a big number and age for an exy professional player. Yet, his team won the last the spring championship, which could be an exploit if Day wasn’t the iconic Queen of exy,” the commentator said. “Do you think he’ll allude to his past relationship with the Moriyamas since it has never been addressed?”

“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t, I hope Kathy won’t force him talking about it if it’s a traumatic aspect of his life. Whatever he chooses to say or not, we, fans, are proud of him.”

Neil rolled his eyes, the commentator clearly wanted a dramatic outcome of Kevin Day’s next interview, and waited some sensational expectations from his fans. Hopefully, time will prove him wrong.

Neil had never met Kevin Day, although he’d followed his career closely. On the run, he had treasured every piece of newspaper and magazine that featured him and Riko, childishly dreaming that he could be at their side. At the time, he ignored the fact that his childish dream was so close to what he was meant to be. If they had left Baltimore one day later, he would have met them, he would have played with them. One week later, he would have been under Tetsuji Moriyama’s wing and Riko’s perfect court number three.

Neil wasn’t stupid enough to think it would have been a perfect life. On the contrary, he had enough knowledge about the inner workings of the first branch’s not to embellish this hypothetical life. But he could have played all his life because Nathan wouldn’t have chopped his leg, among other things.

Ever since he had learned about all of this, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time Kevin Day was mentioned.

Once he was finished with his paperwork, Neil stretched his arms over his head and yawned. A coffee was needed. He checked the time on his phone which coincidently buzzed simultaneously.

“Hey, it’s Matt! I’m free tomorrow and I was wondering… would you like to hang out for lunch?”

Neil was taken aback; he wasn’t waiting for him or Renee to actually reach out. Being free at lunch tomorrow, he typed, “Sure. Where?”

Then, Neil realized he already had to leave for the juvenile detention, he was expected to arrive forty-five minutes before the start of practice to go through all the security checks.

* * *

He judged the security checks quite excessive for a juvenile detention, especially when Palmetto’s juvie didn’t count any high criminal teenagers. The majority of the inmates were sentenced for minor infractions; robbery or destruction of property – either public or private. Nothing alarming in Neil’s book. Yet again, Neil wasn’t the poster of an honest civilian. He had done worst than all the inmates combined when he was around their age. To Neil, the alarming point was that kids were in jail, but he wasn’t going to reshape the country’s legislation.

After showing his ID, walking through two security gantries and being frisked, Neil was accompanied by a guard to the court. Describing the court as small and worn out would be an understatement, it had been visibly and completely abandoned until recently. The plexiglass was partially inexistant around the half court, the ground had been cleaned but not repaired as holes were to be observed here and there on the synthetic lawn. Neil tried to contain a sigh; he feared for the gears, racquets and other equipment they’d promised they had.

The guard seemed to notice his defeatism because he said “the court is in bad shaped, but the gears and racquets are better looking, they’ve been donated by the schools and clubs around. You can see for yourself in the storage room just there.” The guard held out a key that Neil took in his hand and pointed the direction to the storage room. “I’m going to look for the kids. Talking about the kids, be careful. They’re not all bad, but they can be unruly and mean. The environment they’re in doesn’t really help.” The guard warned before leaving.

Neil nodded although the guard was gone. Neil had a lot of imperfections but naïve wasn’t one of them. He was aware that today’s practice wouldn’t be as easy as it had been the day before. If it had stressed him yesterday, today, he was ready. The kids were surely going to ask about his scars, maybe being mean about it. He had experienced being a troubled teenager, acting defensively and aggressively. Despite that he never went in a juvie; he’d been there, he’d done that. In fact, he’d even say it was a part of him that never changed.

Neil visited the storage room, and like the guard said, the equipment was – thankfully – in a better condition than the court. A short time later, a dozen of boys invaded the court, some with a nonchalant attitude, some other with a hidden excitement, and the rest with boredom. Neil guessed that an exy court was a better place than the cell they were trapped in.

He walked to the coach’s bench and faced the twelve boys taller than him. “Hello, I’m Neil Josten and I’ll be your exy coach for the year. You can call me coach, Neil or Josten, I don’t care as long as there’s the minimal respect in it. Pass among yourselves these booklets,” he said, giving the booklets’ pile to one of the boys. “It offers succinct rules to respect on the court that you’re invited to read when you’re back on your cells. Any questions or concerns before your introductions?”

A tall brown-haired, green-eyes boy scoffed, “I have a question or a concern. How does a cripple think he can handle us?”

“Perharps it’s because I’m a cripple that I can handle a bunch of misfits just fine,” Neil smirked provocatively. The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes but he didn’t add anything.

“What happened?” Another boy asked.

“I fell into a waste site and got sliced by the propeller supposed to smash the trash. It was ugly. I lost a leg, my two eyes and three fingers.” Neil explained, his lips parted in a grin.

The boys’ expressions shifted into a disgusted one, murmuring that it was a gross story. Neil refrained himself from laughing out loud, that was the story he had stored for people who were a little too curious and old enough to take it. He considered the reality as worse; if they couldn’t take this made-up story, they wouldn’t like the real one.

“You’re not gonna tell us, are you?” The same boy inquired.

“No, I’m not going to tell you. Any additional question?” he waited a few seconds of silence to continue “what about you introduce yourselves so I can know your names. Tell me at the same time if you’ve ever played and which position. If you haven’t, tell me which one you’d like.”

The first ten kids introduced themselves. Neil took notes of their names, ages and desired positions. Eight of them had already played exy before which made things much easier. Moreover, the positions were balanced, Neil could effortlessly manage to assign the rest of the boys their preferred positions.

The eleventh kid was the rude brown-haired boy, “Ethan Ward’s the name. 16. Never played, but I’m supposed to play as a goalie.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, “supposed?”

“Well, they don’t want me to play a different position because of… my attitude.”

“That remains to be seen. ‘They’ as you say haven’t filled me in.” Neil sighed, slightly annoyed. “Till then, I’m the one taking the decision. Which position would you like?”

Ethan seemed dumbfounded, as if no one ever listened to his wants and needs – which was probably and sadly, the case. “Dealer, I don’t know which specialization yet. Both sounds cool.”

“People rarely go after this position. Recruiters are always seeking after dealers. Oddly, new players avoid it like the pest while being a dealer gives you the opportunity to control the game if you’re good enough.” Neil commented, taking notes religiously.

Ethan smiled and whispered a “thanks” he hoped Neil didn’t hear. Neil turned to the last recruit, a brown-skinned and haired kid. The boy tugged the hem of his shirt with his fingers, seemingly stressed out. Neil waited patiently for the kid to speak first, but Ethan cut short “he doesn’t talk, his name is Tomas Castillo.”

“Hmm…” Neil hummed. “Do you understand me, Tomas? Nod if yes.” The kid’s nod was barely perceptible, but it was there. Neil asked again, “do you know how to use ASL?” Tomas nodded again. “Good,” Neil signed “you can talk to me that way, if you’d like to. Can you tell me your age and the position you’d like?”

“I’m 15 years old. And I want to be a striker.” Tomas briefly signed before posting his hands back to the hem of his shirt.

“Ok,” Neil affirmed signing. “Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything.”

Tomas nodded for only answer, but it was enough for Neil. It had been around 8 to 10 years that Neil hadn’t used ASL, and he’d thought he’d never use it again. When he had arrived at the psychiatric hospital, he hadn’t been able to speak a word, so a few weeks in and one of the nurses had brought him an ASL book. It had been useless at first, since he hadn’t been able to move his butchered fingers and arms.

“Ok, boys,” Neil started. “Go to the storage room and pick gear and racquet fitting for you – in accordance with your position, of course. You can keep them in your locker. And bring cones on your way back.”

Once he was finished, the kids moved along, looking more motivated than when they first showed up. He wrote down the last few bits of information in his notebook; the kids’ ages varied from fourteen to seventeen, with diverse sizes.  Neil was interested – excited even – to work with them.

Behind him, around the court entrance, he heard footsteps – two different pairs of footsteps. Neil craned his neck to peek at his visitors, immediately hiding the flare of irritation growing in his guts when he saw Richard Felton, one of the executive directors of the detention center, coming. A disgrace of a man who thought about money first and the teenagers’ welfare second. Neil had talked to the man only twice and it’d been both times terrible experiences. Thankfully, his co-director was a better man. Neil turned to face him and, when he saw the second guest, Neil froze in his tracks. Neil glanced instinctively at the exit sign above the stranger’s head. The man was already staring at him with his piercing hazel eyes and his blank face.

It was Andrew fucking Minyard.

Neil swallowed down his saliva, confident they were here for him. Andrew Minyard must have recognized him for sure. Neil watched his expression so as not to let his panic slip out, but he wasn’t able to monitor his heart pounding in his chest. If the exit wasn’t blocked, he would have run.

“Hello, Mister Josten, I see that you allowed the inmates to pick their gears for themselves.” Richard called, accusation leaking from his voice.

Neil’s panic almost dissolved instantly to be replaced by annoyance. “Yes. I deemed the dilapidated storage room was safe for teenagers earlier,” Neil said, aware that was not what the director meant. “Well, I guess they can get bitten by spiders and bugs, I should have warned them. But Hello to you too, Mister Felton.”

While Felton nervously chuckled, Neil quickly glanced at Andrew who had an eyebrow raised.  “Mister Josten,” Felton continued. “We’re here because we would like to talk to one of the inmates, it won’t last long. Thirty minutes at most.”

Neil sighed, “which one?” Some boys were slowly coming back from the storage room their hands full of gear, Neil pointed them the locker room so they could go change into their gear.

“Tomas Castillo,” Richard uttered.

“He doesn’t talk,” Neil defensively told him, like he was the one to be interrogated. Old habits die hard.

“Mister Minyard right here,” Felton pivoted to present Andrew, “knows how to sign, everything will be fine.”

Neil scanned the horizon until he spotted Tomas, “Tomas,” he called. The kid, as anxious as before trotted to him, his hands busied. Neil switched to sign, uncaring that Minyard could understand “they want to speak with you for a moment. You’re not forced, you can tell them to fuck off.”

Tomas released an amused and soundless puff of air, “I appreciate the thought but no, I need to go.”

“Drop your gear and racquet to the locker room and come back,” Neil suggested, giving no choice to the two men behind him. He swirled back to face them and could have swear he glimpsed a flash of amusement in Minyard’s eyes, that disappeared as soon as Neil’s gaze lingered a bit longer. It had to be Neil’s imagination.

“Thank you, Mister Josten, have a good practice time.” Richard said as a goodbye once Tomas came back from the locker room.

It took Neil only a few minutes to have eleven boys lined up in front of him all geared up, their racquet in hand. He told them to warm up, running ten laps around the half court, granting him enough time to arrange the cones. He then, divided the kids into two groups, one accomplishing some drills while the other one was taking turns in the goal. This exercise was useful to practice aiming and receiving clumsy balls. He sat on his attributed bench and wrote down then the strengths and weaknesses of every player to work on them later. He didn’t hesitate to comment what was good, and corrected what was bad. It was an interesting first practice, the players’ levels were obviously heterogeneous but it was promising. Neil was having fun.

Tomas reappeared forty minutes later, Neil advised him to change into his gear and join the others. Still focused on his players, Neil didn’t notice the presence of someone else at his back. He startled when a voice reached his ears.

“The tortured rabbit is an exy coach in a juvie. Curious.” Neil made a face at the statement. He recognized the voice since it was imprinted in his mind since the last evening. Andrew was besides him, his fingers twitching against his pockets and a calculating gaze rattling Neil’s soul. “Common people can take a guess. In-field agents may draw their conclusions directly toward inflicted torture. Unlike people might think, it’s not on your face. It’s on your nails.” Neil was missing three as his nails’ matrix had been damaged too much to regrow. “Or the missing ones.” Andrew added.

“Congratulations, you’re the perfect criminologist. What do you want?” Neil spit his words like venom.

“I want nothing,” Andrew scoffed, feigning being offended. Neil gave him an unimpressed look, and kept himself from rolling his eyes. Although the blond was short, like his brother was – approximatively five feet according to Neil’s internal measuring tape – his presence was ridiculously intense. Neil turned his attention back to his players, and reversed the groups’ activity. Two minutes had passed when Andrew spoke again, “why did you run, yesterday?”

“I was intimidated,” Neil replied. It was a pitiful excuse but it was the only thing he thought of.

“Were you?” Andrew raised an eyebrow, marginally. It seemed to be the only breach noticeable in his constant blank expression. “You don’t look like the type to be intimidated at all.”

“I threw away your book right next to you, of course it was embarrassing and an intimidating situation,” Neil argued, putting sincerity in his voice.

“Bullshit, you’re not the first one nor the last to hate me or my work,” Andrew countered as he sat next to Neil on the coach’s bench. “You’re even welcome to join the hate club.”

“I just didn’t want it to be awkward for Francesca,” Neil didn’t want to pull the child’s card but he knew it would work.

“Oh?” Andrew slowly blinked at him. “You’re the idealistic exy coach that Wymack took under his wing,” it sounded like a question but it wasn’t one. “I heard a lot about you. You’re the hot topic lately. Neil Josten, is it?” Neil nodded, wondering what Wymack could have said about him. “Running away was stupid.” Andrew said after a dozen seconds, as if it were the logical continuation of the conversation.

“Sure,” Neil let Andrew win the argument so the topic would die down. Unfortunately, Andrew didn’t appear ready to leave so soon. Eventually, Neil asked, “why did you need to see Tomas for?”

“It’s for a case I’m working on as a consultant. The details are strictly confidential,” Andrew briefly answered.

“Teacher, author, plays cops while being obsessed with serial killers. That’s a lot of multitasking for a former juvie detainee,” Neil said wryly.

“Ow, Coach Josten did his homework. He’s an exy coach and a comedian too,” Andrew paused, his eyes assessing. “I don’t know which one of us multitasks more.”

As Neil watched the players on the court starting to get tired, he yelled for his voice to reach the kids “ten minutes break, go drink some water.” As though he had been dismissed as well, Andrew stood up, stared at him a little longer, brought two fingers to his temple in a mocking salute and left.

In the end, Neil didn’t know what to make of Andrew Minyard. He wasn’t sure whether or not the man had already managed to figure out his identity. However, he was convinced that he’d meet Andrew again. He realized as much when he dragged himself back to his car after practice, where a copy of Andrew’s latest book was waiting for him between one of his car’s tires and the body. A piece of paper was taped on the cover. While reading the words, Neil felt like circling back to their first encounter.

“Better ask me for an autograph next time.”

Ugh, that motherfucker, Neil thought.

Chapter Text

Back at home last night, Neil had spent twenty minutes glaring at the copy of Andrew’s latest book. He was torn between whether he should open the red hard cover and start reading it, or not. He shouldn’t, he reasoned. The timing wasn’t right, his mind was too close to Nathan’s basement lately. More, he didn’t want to grant Andrew the pleasure of winning this – him reading the book? He wasn’t sure – was or meant.

Yet, he was curious. He had tons of question circling around Andrew that he felt would be half answered in this book. Which was stupid, Neil had read each of Andrew’s past book, including the one about the Butcher, Andrew had never addressed personal feelings nor personal observations. It had been clinical, scientific, either on the facts he related or the hypothesis he made; the same way he described Neil’s tortured nails. Most of Andrew’s information on the Butcher had been accurate. Most, because the facts weren’t all publicly released.

So, Neil wondered, besides the Butcher’s history with the Moriyamas, what did Andrew add in his new book? Andrew didn’t seem to be the type to rewrite a book with a different phrasing just for money. But how could Neil know? He met the man twice.

And that was what annoyed him the most. Neil wasn’t acquainted with Andrew, but his obsession for the Butcher made Neil paranoid, and because Neil knew Andrew’s past works, he was curious. Worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When Andrew had released his first book on the Butcher, Neil had bought it on a whim. The critics were predominantly positive, and the book was acclaimed for its refreshing neutrality. The Butcher had led to extensive press coverage as well as being the talk of many sensationalistic true-crime podcasts for years. But that was all it had been, sensationalistic. All the while Andrew had been praised to present the facts as they were.

Back then, Neil had thought that he’d needed to read about the Butcher factually to grow detached of his traumatic experience and eventually heal. So, when he came across Andrew’s book, he bought it. It had taken him two years to finish it. In the end, he wasn’t sure it had helped. However, if there was at least one thing he appreciated about Andrew’s book, it was that his mother’s name or his own was never mentioned.

Although Andrew didn’t do sensationalism, he surfed on the momentary scattered popularity of the Butcher. And it was the reason behind Neil’s ambivalent feelings towards Andrew as a man and as an author. 

“… Neil, is everything alright?” Betsy called him out of his thoughts.

Neil blinked a few times to find a focus point and raised his eyes to meet Betsy’s. Fuck. “Um, yes, I was just… thinking.”

“Would you like to tell me what you were thinking about?” Betsy asked, realigning her glasses higher on her nose.

No, Andrew wasn’t an issue he wanted to approach with Betsy. Especially not after Aaron revealed him that she was Andrew’s therapist. Instead, he did what he knew the best; he lied. “I was thinking about my… relationships with people.” Neil paused to fake hesitation. Betsy, like the therapist she was, was probably reading through his act but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. “I met with Matt and Renee at Wymack’s. They were… friendly.”

“Meeting peers is great for maintaining a balanced life.” At that comment, Neil shrugged. “Do you see yourself making friends with them? Or other people?” She continued, holding a cup of tea – curiously, she had served herself a tea along with Neil’s in lieu of her traditional hot chocolate.

“I’m not sure,” Neil muttered lowly. “It never occurred to me, making acquaintances and friends. But now that I think about it, I doubt I’ll ever be able to trust anyone to be that close to me. It’s better not, actually.”

“Why not?” Betsy asked almost immediately.

Because his truths were to be kept and locked away forever. Furthermore, Neil Josten was someone else entirely, and speaking truths meant ruining Neil Josten’s future. Lies only held the pieces of one’s identity together for months at most, longing for more was nothing but a pipedream. He had carried too many names, he had said too many lies to act foolish ignorant.

Trusting people was a foreign concept his paranoid mind couldn’t handle. The pain of being backstabbed countless times lingered in one’s veins and hurt as much as being lied to by the person you trusted the most.

That would be his answer for Betsy if he ever wished to say it aloud. Which wasn’t the case. He had been silent for a few minutes now, so he said, “you don’t drink hot chocolate.”

Betsy ignored his sudden change of subject, pinching slightly her lips together. “No, my doctor told me to be careful with sweets. Not that tea is better but it’s a good transition for herbal infusions. Those can be sour but do not contain theine. They are the best hot drinks for people with heart conditions.”

Neil guessed her last sentence applied to her, but didn’t ask for more.

“Well, our session is coming to an end, do you want to add anything?” Betsy asked. When Neil shook his head, she expressed “I will be at Abby’s birthday and I was told you’d be there as well. I don’t want my presence to be awkward for you.”

“It’s fine by me,” Neil stated, ready to leave.

“Great, then.” She smiled and got up from her sit to accompany him to the door. She opened it and said, “see you on Saturday, Neil.”

“Goodbye Betsy, see you.” Neil stepped over the threshold, paused and rushed to say before she closed the door, “Thank you, for today.” He usually never thanked her, but today, he was particularly glad she didn’t pry.

Neil walked down the corridor leading to the waiting room and consequently, the exit. The waiting room was the usual bright eye-hurting white but was highly contrasted by the easily noticeable black clothed man. Barely inside, Neil heard the man snort.

“I’ll start thinking I’m being stalked on.”

“I could say the same,” Neil countered, approaching Andrew who was now standing on his feet.

“I was here first,” Andrew rightfully claimed, stepping closer.

That caused Neil to roll his eyes, then, meet Andrew’s eyes, “I’ve been in Palmetto for two years and never met you.”

“Yet, I keep seeing your face lately,” Andrew evened his gaze, his eyebrows moving insignificantly. “I bet Wymack thought you needed a therapist and gave you the contact info of the only one he knew.”

“No, Betsy was assigned to me before I met Wymack,” Neil settled on, giving away a half-hidden truth away. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. Did you start reading it?” Neil was convinced that if the blond had the ability to smirk, he would right now. His expression was blank, but his eyes were full of something Neil didn’t pinpoint.

“Your book? Why would I? You see, I’m not into reading the sobbing childhood that led a serial killer to kill people.” Neil exaggerated, aware that Andrew’s works didn’t relate those stories, and it was unlikely that he had started with the new one. Neil defiantly tried to sound the least interested in the book and its subject in order to keep Andrew away from his truths. No matter how insulting he sounded. “Not everyone is as single-mindedly obsessed with serial killers as you are. But I should thank you anyway, it’s a nice wedge for a door.”

Andrew puffed air out his nose, clearly amused by what he just heard. “You are as interesting as the liar you appear to be. Which means, a lot.” Neil looked at him unbothered, not falling for Andrew’s trick. “Alas, I get bored easily.”

Neil opened his mouth, then closed it when he noted that Betsy was watching them. After a few seconds, he chose to ignore her and said, “oh, I wouldn’t dare to keep your interest, then.” Neil brought two fingers to his temple as to mimic Andrew’s mocking salute and said, “but if it persists, maybe you should be the one asking me for an autograph.”

When Neil left, his lips were curled upward.

* * *

Matt had sent him a message with the street address of a Mexican restaurant near the campus. They agreed to meet at early noon since they both had busy afternoons. As Neil climbed down his car, he noticed Matt waving to him at the restaurant’s entrance.

“Hey Neil! I’m glad you agreed! I haven’t been here in a long time.” Matt greeted him, sporting a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t get a lot of chances to come to the restaurant, I admit.” He refrained from saying that he didn’t have anyone to go with.

“I used to go there when I was a student with the Foxes. The food is amazing.”

The place was seemingly a family business; black and white photos adorned the warmly colored walls were telling stories of people and places they had been. Some traditional – and familial – items were carefully displayed here and there. It was as if every element protected the place in a timeless bubble and created a home. They were greeted by a polite waitress who led them to an empty table once Matt told her his last name. She handed each of them a menu with their dish’s choices. And left as soon as they ordered their drinks.

“It’s exactly as I remember,” Matt looked around, an apparent tinge of positive nostalgia was glowing in his eyes. “How was your Tuesday?”

“I met with the kids at the juvie, it was interesting and fun. I didn’t expect it to be so different with the older kids. A lot of them have played before, so it makes things easier, I guess.” Neil said, a fondness and passion in his tone that he only showed when talking about exy. “Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching the younger kids too.”

“I believe you.” Matt laughed, closing the menu in his hands, “you have the same sparkles in your eyes than Wymack and Dan when they’re talking about their players.”

“Dan is a coach?” Neil allowed himself to call her Dan, like she had asked him when she had come for her daughter’s registration.

“Yes, she’s a coach in one of the local high schools,” Matt replied. “She dreams to take Wymack’s place once he retires. The PSU’s board has finally granted Wymack’s request to hire an assistant coach, and Dan is the first on the list. It has to wait next year, though.”

“She must be happy.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and took their food order. While waiting for their dishes, Neil learned that Matt was the owner of a gym he’d converted himself, with a special room for boxers – in honor of his mother, Randy, a famous boxer. Matt explained that it was the reason why he had more free time than his wife and that it would be him bringing Lia, their daughter, to exy practice later in the day.

They started eating when they were served, and Matt asked, his mouth full, “hm, I forgot to ask you, do you have a partner?”

Neil frowned in confusion, like it was the dumbest question someone could ask him. “No? I’m not really interested in romantic relationships. Even if that was the case, I never had the time for that.”

“hm, I see,” Matt didn’t pry any further, for which Neil was grateful. “What did you do before being an exy coach? I know your project was developed over the last two years thanks to Wymack but that makes me curious. That’s a quite big professional reconversion.”

“I used to work as a translator,” Neil affirmed, which was technically the truth. It’s not like he was questioned on his past employers. “But after a few years, I got burned out and came to the conclusion that it was time for a change.” It was a half-truth; he didn’t exactly get burned out.

“It must have been a difficult decision to make. Well, now you look pleased with what you’re doing now so that’s for the best.” Matt empathized, swallowing a bite. “Wait, that means you speak a several languages.”

“Yes, I speak six languages fluently, if we count English.” Neil anticipated Matt’s next questions by naming them, “I speak German, French, Spanish, Russian and Japanese. I know ASL too, but that’s technically not speaking. Which makes it seven languages. I know the basics for a few more but not enough to be fluent.”

Neil had learned German and French on the run with his mother in the countries they were spoken. He had decided to improve his Spanish after his mother died, it being one of the most widely spoken languages in the world, he’d thought it would be useful. Unfortunately for him, he had been caught before he had a chance to make any use of it. As for the other two, they had been forced upon him.

“Wow, that’s a lot, you must have a crazy degree and resume.”

“Well, not really, I’m mostly self-taught. I never went to college.”

“Man, I don’t know how to tell you this but you’re amazing.”

Neil laughed it off and switched to another subject. Matt was genuinely kind and likeable, talking with the man was enjoyable and Neil even surprised himself by thinking that he could spend more time hanging out with Matt in the future. However, Neil was also aware that this kind of ties with someone was only ephemeral and based on too many lies for a person like himself. Eventually, the lunch break had to come to an end and the two men went their separate ways to their respective jobs. Matt said they should do this again some other time. Neil admitted that he would like to.

Neil felt the fatigue of the morning’s interactions weighing on his shoulders and mind. He leaned back in his car seat and closed his eyes for a minute. Neil was good at talking to people. On the run, he had no choice but to engage in small talk to avoid arousing suspicion. He had learned the hard way with his mother and it had worked just fine. However, his mother had forbidden him to have full conversations with people for fear that he would share what shouldn’t be shared. By now, Neil was used to both, but his session with Betsy still rattled his thoughts.

Oh, that was why he hated psychiatrists in the first place.

Finally, Neil turned on the ignition and drove to the sport facility. He had two hours to kill before practice with the 6-8 years old kids to get the field ready.

Ten minutes later, he parked the car a street away from the facility. As he strode towards the facility, he caught the sight of a kid crouched against the door, their arms wrapped around their calves and their face hidden in their knees. He hurried his pace, but was careful not to frighten them.

“Hey,” Neil whispered softly, as though he was addressing a wild animal.

The kid was obviously startled and craned their neck to glance at him. The girl – now Neil could see – wasn’t the least bit disturbed by his scarred face but there was an unmistakable, lingering fear that was conspicuously anchored in her gaze. Neil knew this look all too well, if the bruises peeking out of the collar of her long sleeve shirt meant anything.

“I’m Neil Josten,” he said, using the sweetest of his voices. “I’m the exy coach of this facility, are you supposed to play exy with me?” At her nod, he added, “great, do you want to go in? It’s still summer but I have hot chocolate inside. You can even tell me your name.”

She didn’t answer verbally but she rose onto her feet and waited for him to open the door. The girl’s ponytail was partially untied. Her hair was visibly unkempt and messy, although it was beautifully brown and matched her skin. He walked inside with her on his heels to his office, she was limping. He told her to take a seat while he heated some water with the kettle. Of course, he had stolen the whole ‘hot chocolate’ idea from Betsy. He expected that the kids would come here troubled (unfortunately) more often than not, and even if he had been an exception in his youth, most of kids loved hot chocolate. It was a simple way to bring temporary comfort and a smile on their lips.

Then, he pulled out of his drawer the files of the 6–8-year-olds. “So, can you tell me your name?”

“Maya,” she muttered. “Maya Castillo.”

Castillo, huh. He searched among the files to find Maya’s. She was eight, her file indicated that her legal guardian wasn’t connected to the system, yet, her registration had been done by the social services. The emergency number given also belonged to a social worker. Then, he wondered if it was mere coincidence that she shared her last name with one of the juvie’s kids.

“By any chance, do you have a brother or a cousin named Tomas?”

A hopeful and vivid glow flashed in Maya’s irises when she nodded fiercely, “do you know Tomas? He’s my brother but they don’t let me see him.”

“I’m his exy coach too.” The water now hot, Neil served the little girl her hot chocolate. “He was fine yesterday.”

She puffed soundlessly like her brother did the day before, propelling the steam of her hot drink with her breath. “Tomas likes exy a lot. He told me we should play and become champions together.”

“I have no doubt you both will,” Neil smiled. “Does it hurt anywhere?” he kept himself from asking who hurt her. He had been there once, and never would he have answered truthfully. She shook her head because of course she did. He would have done the same too at her age. “You know, I saw that you were limping, and it would be unreasonable of me to let you play today. I need to call someone to pick you up.” She immediately looked terrified so he added, “but don’t worry, I won’t call home.”

She lightly relaxed, and argued, “but I wanna play exy” she started sobbing. “I need to be strong for when Tomas come back.”

Neil crouched at her level, careful to position his prosthetic right. “You will, but if you play today, you will hurt yourself and you won’t be able to play for even longer. Next week, once you feel better, you’ll be able to play, okay?” She nodded again so he continued, “what about you tell me what position you want? You seem to know a lot about exy.”

“I-I want to be backliner, like that, I can protect Tomas from behind when he’s focused to score,” she sniffed between words.

Neil grinned, “that’s so cool, and nice of you. Keeping an eye on your older brother.”

Once he deemed that she was a little more comfortable after she smiled, he took the opportunity to call the emergency number but it was in vain. He tried a few times and abandoned. He was disappointed but not surprised by the half-hearted commitment of a social worker. Instead, he got an idea. He went through his contacts in his phone and called her.

She picked up at the second ring, “Hi, Neil? Do you need anything?”

“Renee, hum…” Neil proceeded to explain the situation to Renee, low and far enough from Maya so that she wouldn’t hear him.

Renee let him finish so she could have every piece of information, then she said, “I’ll call the social center and pick her up myself. Thank you for calling me, Maya will be fine now.”

“No, thank you, you’re the one picking her up.” Neil hesitated for a few seconds, partly because of a pride he didn’t know was that high, “huh, do you have, perchance, Andrew’s phone number?”

Renee sounded surprised, “you met Andrew?”

“Well, we coincidently met yesterday at the juvie, he came to interrogate one of my players for a case he’s working on. The player happened to be Maya’s brother, so I thought that maybe he knew more. Or at least, he’d like to know.”

“Ok, I’ll send it to you. I’ll come for Maya as soon as I can, keep an eye on her,” she said and ended the call.

He received Andrew’s contact number promptly. He didn’t wait any longer to call him, he wanted to know if Maya was in danger. He couldn’t help but find his past young self in her.

“Hello, who is it?” Andrew asked, roughly.

“It’s Neil.”

“Can’t stop thinking about me already? How did you get my number?” Andrew’s tone was neutral and his voice raspy but Neil detected a bit of annoyance leaking in his second question.

Neil rolled his eyes although Andrew couldn’t see. “Renee gave it to me.” Neil wasted no time and pursued, “do you know that Tomas Castillo has a sister?”

Andrew stayed silent for a few seconds, and eventually uttered “Yes, I do, why.”

It didn’t sound like a question but it was one, so Neil replied “she’s one of my players, she showed up at my door early and bruised. Whether you knew or not, I thought it was best to inform you. And please, tell me if I can be of help for the kids.”

“I don’t like this word.”

“Which one?” Neil asked.

Silence.

“The p-word.”

“Okay,” he agreed with an unspoken understanding. Neil wasn’t one to hold grudges over words. Still, he could understand people who did, especially words used to beg. For a year, he had screamed this very same word so often that he had lost his voice countless times. He paused for a few seconds, which seemed to stretch into minutes. Eventually, he blinked to chase the thoughts away, and said, “So?”

“There’s not much I can tell you without breaking confidentiality. She lives with her stepfather who has been acting as her father for as long as she can remember. She never knew her biological father, he died shortly after her birth. Her mother remarried a few years later.” Andrew explained, succinctly and clearly, disregarding completely the rest of Neil’s sentence.   

“If she lives with her stepfather,” Neil pronounced the last word in disgust, assuming the man was the one leaving the bruises on Maya’s skin. “Where’s the mother?”

“Poof,” Neil heard Andrew moving his free hand in gestures. “Disappeared. Gone. Missing,”

 “And that’s the reason why the cops are involved, I guess.”

“You’re clever, rabbit. I must tell you, though. I’m a consultant, not a cop,” Andrew felt the need to specify.

“What’s the difference?”

“For starters, I’m not as dumb as your average cop. And, well, I choose to help on cases of my choosing. For some reasons, they always say yes.”

Neil could figure out their motives, Andrew was considered a genius in the criminology scene, no one with a minimal intellect would refuse his help on any case. Andrew didn’t even sound proud, he related it like a fact that was self-evident, and pure truth. It was surely frustrating.

“If you thought I was a cop, why did you call me? You don’t look like someone who trusts cops,” Andrew added, curiosity in his voice.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Neil admitted. “But I also can’t imagine someone who went to juvie like yourself making a child’s situation worse.”

For reasons Neil ignored, that seemed to be enough to shut Andrew up for a good minute or so. “Is that all?” the blond demanded.

“Yes, thank you.” Neil had barely finished his sentence that Andrew hung up on him. Rude.  

Neil approached Maya again and told her a friend of his was going to pick her up. She relaxed at his words and he let her play with a ball in the office while they both waited for Renee.

At the end of the practice, Neil was drained of all energy. The Castillo siblings’ situation was certainly troubling. Telling Renee and Andrew was the best and only thing he could do to help the kids. He didn’t trust them, but they were former foxes. And, just like Neil, Andrew and Renee knew what it was to be like those two children.

Thoughtful, he scurried to go home; he had enough of the outside world for the day. He took his sweet time under the hot water of his shower, relaxing every tensed muscle. He decided to order a pizza for dinner as he didn’t have the strength to even bake his food. When he comfortably set himself on the couch with his drink and food once the pizza arrived, his eyes fell upon Andrew’s book. With all that happened in the afternoon, he forgot about his indecisiveness.

Perhaps, it was the day’s event that settled his mind, perhaps it was something else, whatever it was, he grabbed the book and opened it.

“

PART ONE

For those who have been left behind

Nathan Wesninski was born in 1963 in one of the oldest cities of Poland, Sandomierz. In 1978, his parents promptly fled the country- Fuck that. If you’re reading a book about the Butcher in the year 2021, thus ten years after his death, and expecting a biography, you should have considered opening the umpteenth tab on your mobile browser and read his Wikipedia page instead.”

Neil snorted. Those words were undoubtedly written by Andrew Minyard.

“The promised theme mentioned in the title will be addressed in the second part of the book.”

Neil stopped his reading to check where the first part ended and where the second part began. He practically laughed when he saw the “Part Two” consisted of eighty pages out of the three hundred pages.

“I lied, as I rarely do, implying it would be the main theme of the book. No, most of the next pages you are about to read will raise a much more important subject. The ones who have been left behind; the ones the sensationalists never care about. The victims. The Butcher has committed fifty-three (53) murders, and is suspected of twice as many. In the end, the name that remains, the name that is remembered, is not one of the fifty-three victims, but Nathan Wesninski, alias The Butcher.

I’m here to help you remember those names, the names of the ones who have been left behind. The names that you are shamelessly forgetting as soon as they’re mentioned. With this book, I’ll force you remember, at least one or two names.

 There are two victims that aren’t counted in Nathan’s murder’s list. Two that are the most forgotten, yet, are the biggest victims. They have officially been declared dead six years ago. I never wrote about them in my previous works because their whereabouts were uncertain and I refused to be the one to endanger them if they happened to be alive. I’m obviously talking about the wife and son of Nathan Wesninski. Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski.”

Neil stopped breathing at once, biting his lips in hope to stop the feeling that was bubbling in his stomach. Nathaniel and his mother had never been talked in such a way before. In the public eyes, they were either an unsolved mystery or cowards who ran away in lieu of turning in the Butcher. If Neil feared Andrew knew too much about Nathaniel, about him, he, for once in his entire life, felt understood.

Chapter Text

“With the current lot of public information accessible, we can rightfully assume that Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski did not only run away from Nathan but from the Moriyama family – now acknowledged as part of the Japanese Mafia – as well.

If there is no document or official report to allegedly prove that Mary’s motives for her sudden departure were intricately linked to Nathan’s employers, everything suggests that a threat – greater than the Butcher himself – must have fallen upon her or her son, urging her into actions.

Mary left Baltimore, Maryland with a ten years old Nathaniel, hastily and unprepared in March 1998. Her escape marked the beginning of seven years on the road and the creation of twenty-two (22) identities, forty-four (44) names¹ shared between Mary and Nathaniel. I pledge to relate their journey through the cities they traveled, the names they bore along with the stories of Nathan’s other victims.

Toronto, Canada was where a still-sloppy Mary Wesninski and her son were first spotted, and where their first fake identity ever listed was born; they became Anne and Samuel Evans. Coincidentally – and deadly ironically – this very same town was the hometown of the Butcher’s first recorded victim, Megan Cooper, killed in 1980.

At the time, Megan Cooper was a sixteen years old teenager, student at her local high school, and well-versed in clay art. She occasionally worked as a babysitter for the children of her neighbors, the children used to call her “angel”. Supported by loving parents, her life had essentially been uneventful. Until she

____________________________________________

¹ list of the forty-four names (chronological) annex n°53-01 page 347

6

”

* * *

After reading about twenty pages, Neil didn’t open Andrew’s book for the next two days, focusing solely on his players. On Thursday, he’d waited the break to tell – well, sign – Tomas that his sister also was one of his players. At that, Tomas had tenderly smiled and said that he missed her. Neil learned that they were prohibit to meet or communicate with each other, so he agreed to be their secret pirate messenger and let them exchange letters through him. Neil suspected it was due to a court decision but he couldn’t care less. He’d noticed their mutual affection and their fierce protectiveness for one another, and that was all he needed to know.

Neil didn’t open Andrew’s book, but he thought about it. A lot. Neil reflected on Andrew’s change of heart to write a book out of personal observations. The author who was usually a stickler for impartial dissection of facts. The logical justification was the victims’ importance to Andrew, yet, the ‘why?’ was still floating unreasonably in Neil’s mind and lingered on the tip of his tongue. He had to keep reading, feeling that an even deeper answer was within reach.

On the other hand, Neil didn’t dwell on the actual content, or more precisely, he’d rather not. Nathaniel and Mary’s publicly released history was effortlessly findable on the internet, it would be irrational to reckon that Andrew’s book would have any further impact on him. That being said, Andrew’s words relating his past like a tale – a gruesome one but a tale nonetheless – were full of meaning and awfully personal. He felt as if he had been caught between Andrew’s claws so he could see him, so that Neil or Nathaniel could feel seen and understood in a way he had never experienced. All the while, Andrew believed that Nathaniel was dead.

Although his heart was torn between disliking and fearing being seen and recognized, it wasn’t Neil who was seen that way, it was Nathaniel. And if it was true that his paranoid self was feeling dangerously a step closer to being recognized by Andrew, Andrew didn’t solve Neil as he solved Nathaniel. Neil wouldn’t give him the tools for it.

He decided to shut his thoughts for the moment by slamming the door of his car. Sunflowers, roses and geraniums were framing the flower shop, along with seasonal flowers Neil – who knew nothing about flowers – couldn’t identity.

Neil had spent his Friday wondering whether he should bring a present to Abby or not. He wouldn’t have cared if it had been anyone else, but she was Wymack’s wife. Her husband had helped him too much over the past two years not to even think about it. Even though they weren’t close, Neil wouldn’t be where he was without him.

After mulling over the idea and unsuccessfully googling “what to gift a woman in her fifties?”, he ended up texting Matt to ask him what Abby would like. Since Dan was in charge of getting Abby’s presents every year, Matt was as lost as Neil. Still, Matt hinted him that Abby liked flowers and that flowers were always the answer.

So, there he was, walking into a flower shop and being immediately greeted by the florist, “Hello, how can I help you?”

 “Hi, uh, yes, I’m looking for flowers to gift to a woman in her fifties,” Neil replied, closing the gap between him and the counter.

“Would you rather like a potted plant or a flower bouquet?” She questioned as she cut flower stems with gloved hands.

Neil wasn’t sure it was so different, but he said “bouquet”. At least, flower bouquets didn’t last.

The florist pushed the interrogation further . Neil answered thoroughly and she started forming a bouquet accordingly. She named each flower she used for him because he could only recognize the sunflower and the daisies. Apparently, snapdragons were named for their resemblance to a dragon’s face, which Neil couldn’t see. With snapdragons, she also added two yellow marigolds. The resulting bouquet looked beautifully wild, harmoniously colored in white and yellow shades. Neil liked it.

He paid for it and dragged himself to his car, flowers in hand. Wymack told Neil that he was allowed to “bring his ass” in the afternoon. He had deliberately waited until four in the afternoon to pick up the flowers so that he could go straight to the Wymacks without being too early. 

The few cars already aligned in front of the house didn’t keep him from parking his own. The front door opened not to Abby or Wymack but to a tall blonde woman wearing a flashy black dress. Neil’s eyes didn’t wander, remaining on her face, so he noticed that she was scanning him from head to toe.

“You’re the Josten everyone talks about, I’m Allison.” She said, letting him in. Childish laughter roaring in the lively house, and voices echoing through the walls welcomed him warmly.

“Renee told me about you, too.”

Allison smiled, proudly, “when does she not. She’s crazy about me.”

Neil’s lips formed a semblance of a smile and remained silent. Allison gestured toward the kitchen with a hand and closed the door behind him in his stead. The kitchen was crowded, Dan, Matt and Renee were sitting around the counter while Abby and Betsy seemed to get the food ready already. Allison who was on his heels joined back (he supposed) her place next to Renee.

“Abby’s birthday always feels like an early thanksgiving,” Matt said stealing a sliced carrot piece to eat it. “Oh, hey Neil!” Matt greeted him as soon as he saw him.

“Hello, Neil!” Abby smiled at him with the same fondness she did last time they met. “David drove to Raleigh to pick Kevin up,” she informed him at once. “And Boyd, you better stop eating those carrots if you don’t want to cut more of them.”

Matt laughed and held his hands in the air, offering peace before Renee, Dan and Betsy greeted Neil as well.

“Hey” Neil waved a hand at them. “Happy birthday Abby, I didn’t know what you liked so I went for flowers.”

Abby wiped her hands on her apron to grab the bouquet he handed her, “you didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you Neil, they’re pretty.” She stopped what she had been doing to put the flowers in a vase she took from a sliding drawer above the sink. “Oh, yes, I asked David to ask you but he forgot. Do you have any allergy or food you don’t eat?”

“Nothing in particular,” he didn’t like vegetables but he wasn’t going to tell her. “Except pork meat, which I can’t seem to digest,” Neil replied expeditiously – unwilling to talk or think about it at length.

Abby nodded, “Now, all of you, leave my kitchen, there’s too much of you.”

“I’m heartbroken Abby,” Allison started “Coach has too much influence on you, look at the way you’re talking to us now.”

Abby rolled her eyes and shooed them out. The old Foxes plus Neil obeyed and left the kitchen for the den. Aaron and his wife – Neil assumed – were already there, with their twins and Lia who were watching a kid show on TV. The twin’s mother, Katelyn introduced herself to Neil and he did the same, if the twins’ got their eyes and their hair from their father, their nose unmistakably came from their mother. Her voice was soft and tired. The purple bruises under her eyes, indicating the repeated long shifts at the hospital, reminded Neil that both parents were doctors.

As excited as ever, Francesca followed by Lia almost jumped on him “Oh, Coach Neil!! I didn’t know you came! I want to play exy even more now! I can’t wait to be Monday, well, I don’t want to be Monday because of school but I want to play exy!”

“Me too! Me too!!” Lia agreed, “Coach, Coach can you tell mom and dad how great my shot was when I scored last time?”

“It was an amazing shot, you’re right to be proud Lia,” Neil praised her. “I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned forward so as to be at her level, he framed his mouth with his hand, but speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Even Kevin couldn’t have thrown such an amazing shot. But you can’t tell him that.”

At that, Lia stared at him and then her parents in awe. The adults in the room couldn’t help but smile and snort. “Woah!! You’re so cool Lia!!” Francesca yelled, and her sister, Fanny nodded fiercely in agreement.

The kids started talking between each other so the adults shifted their attention to themselves. Allison was the next person to speak “so, is the monster coming this time?”

“Alli, can you not?” Renee warned her with a soft but firm tone.

“Yeah, yeah, so? Is Andrew coming?” Allison corrected herself.

Neil raised an eyebrow, wondering why she called Andrew a monster before correcting herself. Sure, the man was no angel but he was more than what he pretended to be. Neil could tell from the few times they’d met. Even his last book was revealing. They certainly piqued his curiosity with just a word that he hesitated asking. Until he decided not to, he would learn more at the right time anyway.

“I don’t know, he isn’t exactly talkative,” Aaron replied, bitterly. “But he’ll come, for the girls and Kevin.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dan sighed.

They were interrupted by the children once again with Francesca demanding her mother to buy her an exy racquet soon so she could play in the garden. Neil who had a couple of kid-sized racquets in his trunk offered them to go look for them and lend them for the day. Francesca and Lia accepted, ecstatic, thanking him like he resolved all of their problems. He asked Fanny if she wanted a racquet, and when she said yes, he left for his car.

He quickly made it to his car and picked up three racquets from his trunk. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, causing him to turn around at the speed of light. It was Andrew, dressed in all black, his armbands in place like was his bored expression. A cigarette in hand, the man blew smoke in his direction, too far to actually reach him. Neil tried his best not to chase after the smoke. He locked his eyes for a second into Andrew’s until the man lowered his gaze first.

“Are you going to smash someone’s head with those?” Andrew pointed the racquets with his middle finger.

Neil was instinctively and instantly wary, frowning in a fake confusion to hide the panic building up in his chest. Neil was aware that exy racquets were a good weapon, with a well-balanced strength, it could kill. Neil knew more than anyone. When his father’s henchmen had come to “collect” him, he had hit Jackson Plank on his side with his racquet. He hadn’t put enough force into the blow to make the man bleed, but it had been enough to crack a rib or two and puncture his lung. Within minutes he was dead.

But there was no way Andrew could know that. Plank’s body had never been found by the police. Lola Malcom made sure of it.

Neil was relieved when Andrew continued, “Don’t ask for advices around here, though. They would cry. Especially Aaron. We wouldn’t want that.”

“I’m the tortured one, not the killer,” Neil uttered with an explanatory voice. “It’s for your nieces and Lia, they want to play in the backyard.”

“Hmm” was all Andrew said. He threw his cigarette’s filter on the asphalt and walked in the house. Neil followed him.

Inside, the girls were buzzing with excitement, first because of the racquets Neil had in hands and second, because their “uncle Drew” was here. After Andrew told the twins ‘yes’ for a hug, they jumped on him like furies. And they disappeared as quickly for the backyard.

The Foxes moved naturally from one topic to another, whether it was about a movie Neil never heard of or job talks. Neil could tell they’ve been friends for years. Besides Andrew who didn’t speak and Aaron who participated shyly, they all had their inputs on any topic. They tried to include Neil in their conversations to avoid pushing him aside, which more or less worked. At some point, Renee told him she made sure Maya was safe and that she would be fine from now on. He believed her.

“Wait,” Dan stopped them in the mid of a conversation. “Isn’t Kevin’s interview on Kathy Ferdinand’s show broadcast soon?”

“Oh, true. Let’s watch him make a fool of himself with the bitch, it’s been so long,” Andrew said, adjusting his position on the armchair.

Allison picked the remote to change the channel. Aaron sighed, “I don’t know how he can go back to the worst show in history.”

“Well, it’s been fifteen years,” Katelyn rationalized. “She didn’t know.”

Neil hadn’t personally watched it. But the interview from fifteen years ago was famous, or rather infamous. Kathy Ferdinand had invited Kevin Day for one of her show a few months after he joined the foxes’ line. She had trapped him by inviting Riko Moriyama without his knowledge nor consent. Of course, she hadn’t known then that Riko had been the one breaking Kevin’s hand nor that he had been born into an organized crime family.

The obvious course of action of the interview with Kevin, traumatized by Riko’s antics and wickedness, had been disastrous. Fortunately, the interview had been cut short. Kevin, frozen and in a dissociative state, had been unable to respond to Riko’s taunts. The entirety of the exy world watching the interview was quick to blame the Foxes and Wymack for Kevin’s panic.

The Foxes had always suffered backlash for simply existing, but this time, it had been the most violent and severe they had ever experienced. Raven’s and Kevin’s fans had trashed their dorms, as well as setting fire to the Fox Court. The death threats had become more frequent than the support they had ever received. Wymack had done his best to fend off every allegation coming their way until Kevin found the courage to lie to the press about a distant cousin’s accident that happened on the same day of the interview and that had him shaken. Rare were those who had believed him but it'd provided them a few months of peace.  

Abby and Betsy walked into the den with snacks, ready to watch Kevin’s interview. The preshow was already on when Allison got the channel right, Kathy was announcing today’s topics teasing a special guest everyone knew about. Neil tuned her off until she would talk about Kevin, her twangy voice was more annoying than not.

“- here with us today, after fifteen years, I don’t need to introduce him anymore, the famous and number one exy striker, the queen of the chess game, Kevin Day!”

Kevin arrived on the stage under the applause of the audience with his usual assassin smile. “Hello, Kathy,” he said, before hugging the woman. Then, Kathy pointed him the couch next to her seat for him to sit.

“Don’t believe in that smile Neil, it’s fake,” Allison whispered next to him. She was sitting on Renee’s laps. “He’s a real douchebag fitting the line,” she waved with a loose hand to the people in the room.

Neil didn’t need her to know, no one could smile this way under every circumstance.

“So, Kevin,” Kathy began. “First of all, I would like to publicly apologize to you about what I put you through fifteen years ago. It’s true that I didn’t know what was happening behind closed door, however, I didn’t check with you before inviting him. And this is my mistake, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Thank you, Kathy for your apology. It was fifteen years ago, no one can hold grudges that long,” Kevin chuckled lightly and charmingly.

“I feel relieved,” she sighed heavily. “I admit, I was stressed receiving you today. For more than one reason, I must say a man of your standing is intimidating.” She giggled the same way every announcer did. “Let’s talk about your career, Kevin. Thirteen years, this is the number of years you played for a professional team. A thirteen-years career is a long time for an athlete, and yet, you are the first in exy history to accomplish this much. What is your secret? And more importantly, when will you stop?”

“Haha, I don’t’ think there’s a secret that only I have, it’s all about passion. But you know Kathy, I’ve been thinking about my retirement for the past few years. I wanted to play exy for a year with absolute freedom before bowing my head and leaving the active exy scene. And I think this next season will be the one. It will be my last.” Kevin announced solemnly, emotions were leaking from his tone. Kevin Day just announced that he would be retiring from the court in less than a year. It was the beginning of a long goodbye for his fans.

None of the Foxes seemed surprised, but the mood turned so nostalgic that it was almost palpable, even Neil felt it. When he glanced around the room, Abby was the most moved, she had obvious tears in her eyes. Betsy patted her friend’s back to comfort her. Matt’s hand had found Dan’s shoulder to stroke it smoothly. Andrew still wore his blank mask of an expression, but his irises didn’t lie, they were a storm of emotions. Neil was sure he detected pride in them.

“Oh, Kevin, I think it’s still early to tell you that but, you will be missed on the court.” She said, wiping off a fake tear from her eye. “I have another question for you, you are world’s best striker, you’re a two-time an Olympic champion and a three-time world champion, what do you want to achieve in your last season?”

“Nothing, I just want to play freely the sport I’m passionate about. I don’t even care if I lose the championship this year. Well, I’ll be disappointed but my goal isn’t winning this time. It’s to enjoy exy.” Kevin explained simply. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch.

“Do you mean that you weren’t free before this year?” Kathy asked and then clarified “You can tell me no, if you don’t want to answer that.”

“It’s been two years that I have been more or less free, but this next season my mind will be truly free. Free from investigation.” He paused, and decided to admit, “I can’t tell you the details, but yes, all my career I’ve been bound to the Moriyamas.”

“Well, that’s not surprising, especially when we learned about the Ravens’ backstages. And then about the Moriyama’s ties to the mafia. Were you forced to do illegal activities for them?” Kathy questioned. It was what every fan wanted to know whether they would have to cancel him.

“No, of course not. They were after the money of an exy star, that was the initial purpose of the Perfect Court. I had to be the most profitable possible, so it meant playing perfectly but also maintaining sponsorships and publicity. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing exy, it had never been the problem. It’s just…”

“You didn’t have an entire control over you career and body?” Kathy finished his sentence. Kevin nodded in agreement.

“It was tiring, sometimes,” he added. “Now, I’m glad it’s over. I’ll be forever grateful to the person who reported them.”

At that, Neil would have snorted if he wasn’t around the Foxes, who knew more than anyone else about the first branch of the Moriyama. Still, it was good to know he had the eternal gratitude of Kevin Day. Andrew snorted, though. Neil raised an eyebrow his way but he was ignored.

“Did you ever think about turning them in yourself?” Kathy pushed further.

“No, I was too afraid. Call me a coward if you must but I knew what kind of people they had in their ranks, and I had no wish to meet them, or see them again. I knew all about the consequences.” Kevin replied, his voice was firm, hiding a lingering fear underneath.

“When did you realize the dangerousness of the Moriyamas?” Kathy continued her interrogation, with a serious expression. She was gripping her note cards, although Neil doubted that the questions she was asking were in line with what was written in her notes.

 “I was twelve. They invited the Butcher at Edgar Allan, and made him cut a man into piece in front of us.” Kevin confessed, looking at his hands.

 If the audience were reacting to Kevin’s words before, it was nothing next to the audible horrific gasps that were heard now. The Foxes, except Andrew, were as horrified, Neil guessed Kevin didn’t tell them. Neil was aware that he should be expressing something other than the apathy he was showing at the news, but he couldn’t bring himself to fake anything right now. Hearing about witnessing death was nothing new, nor was witnessing Nathan kill someone himself. It was old, even. Neil had been taught to be the worst kind of selfish, to worry only about his own life, and now he was detached from other’s deaths and people witnessing it. The only death caused by Nathan that Neil ever cried over had been his mother.

“Did you know, Andrew?” Aaron leaned in to see his brother.

“Why would I know?” Andrew answered like he couldn’t care less. He was completely unbothered.

“Because you’re the Butcher specialist… sort of,” Dan added like it was evident.

Andrew shrugged and ignored her to look back at the TV.

Kathy waited for the audience to calm down. She, too, tried to compose herself as she looked as shocked as her audience. “You’re the Butcher’s survivor…” she finally said. “When we thought they didn’t exist.”

Oh, so that was what it was.

Neil felt a smile creeping on his face, it was angry, it was his father’s. He was glad Kevin wasn’t present because within the current context, he would have recognized his familiarity to Nathan.

“Oh, no, he did nothing than make me fear him. He wasn’t supposed to kill me.” Kevin specified, agitating his hands in front of him.

Neil felt stupid for not thinking about it the moment Kevin confessed what he had witnessed. To the press, to everyone, Kevin would be the Butcher’s survivor. The one and only. No matter what Kevin was going to say, no matter whether he denied them. They would call him modest. They would cry for him when they’d treated Mary and Nathaniel like mysteries and cowards. Neil let a laugh die in his throat.

It wasn’t Kevin’s fault, though. He was also a victim, the Moriyama’s victim. Neil wouldn’t hold a grudge against him for finally finding the courage to confess the truth. No, Neil knew how hard it was. But Kevin had it all, the career, the support even for things he didn’t live, while Neil was nothing and never had anything until he created the association.

They both were two sides of the same coin, they were alike, yet they were so different. Neil should be happy, at least one of them made it – almost – unscathed. However, right now he was seething. Neil Josten wasn’t one to fight, if he started a fight, he did not finish any. But right now he would have fought and won against Kathy Ferdinand had she been in front of him.

“Don’t negate your quality as a survivor, Kevin,” she dared to say. “You shoul-

 The TV was turned off and Neil’s smile dropped with it. He looked around to see Andrew throwing the remote towards the TV.

“What the fuck?” Allison yelled, “I thought you didn’t care that he didn’t tell you?”

Andrew’s blank expression didn’t hide the clench of his jaw. He ignored her and flicked his eyes toward Neil. Neil didn’t want Andrew’s eyes to linger on him when he was feeling so raw, so Neil looked away. Neil hoped Andrew didn’t see him smile earlier. Andrew started to leave the room quietly when they heard the front door open.

“We’re back!” Wymack said.

Chapter Text

Mouths closed, a heavy silence haunted the den for lengthy seconds when Andrew left. The lull moment only exacerbated the low voices of Wymack and Kevin as they approached. Neil waited for the voices to break through the quiet, to stop the rawness of his skin and the itch of his scars. It was a naïve hope because he knew it wouldn’t work, not when Nathaniel was crawling in his flesh like cockroaches in walls. He had to fully be Neil Josten to meet Kevin Day. Otherwise, it would be dangerous for both of them.

He felt Betsy’s stare on him, alert for any sign of distress, her lips drawn in a thin line. He watched her back, and appeased her with a nod; I am fine. Panic and paranoia were the two most sensitive topics he ever wanted to discuss with Betsy, he brought up a few others over the years, but identity crisis was not one of them. And ultimately, it never will.

Since going for a run wasn’t an option, he at least decided to get some fresh air. Striding his way out seemed to make the others find their voice back because Dan interrupted him, “Neil, I don’t think that’s a good idea to follow him.”

She probably thought he was following Andrew, he was about to answer but Betsy beat him, “Dan, it’s okay.”

Neil nodded and got out. It didn’t keep him from hearing Allison’s voice rising, “What is wrong with your brother, Minyard?”

He didn’t pay attention to any answer, too busy walking down the hallway leading to the backyard. From the sound of it, Wymack and Kevin’d had to go by the kitchen first, so he successfully dodged them.

He opened the backyard’s door to the screams of the children playing exy, and climbed down the three white steps to hit the dried yellowish grass. A soothing scent of a cigarette smoke was soon to reach his nose, he slightly leaned in to inhale it. He craned his neck to where the smoke came from and expectedly saw Andrew, already watching in his direction, leaning on a decorative rock. Andrew pulled his cigarettes’ pack out of his pocket and shook it as an offer to Neil. Neil stepped closer to Andrew and accepted the offer.

Andrew pinned a second cigarette between his lips to light it, stealing the first puff. Neil grabbed the tube by the filter, barely avoiding their skin brushing. Even so, he felt the warmth radiating from Andrew’s hand. He rolled the cigarette between his fingertips waiting for the first passive nicotine rush to ground him back into Neil Josten, and chase the residue of Nathaniel away.

“Who did this?” Andrew asked as he stared at him. He gestured to his own face with his free hand, referring to Neil’s scars.

“I thought you weren’t interested in these names,” Neil said, his voice full of meaning. For Those Who Have Been Left Behind’s section was about the victims, Andrew made it clear he didn’t want Nathan’s name to be the one that remained. Neil supposed that Andrew would think the same of any other perpetrator, either it was a killer or a torturer. In the hypothesis Neil was talking about someone else, which wasn’t the case, but Andrew didn’t know that.

“I am not,” Andrew replied automatically. The silence settled once more. Neil hesitated to push further by questioning why Andrew did ask. But the question was risky and the answer was a gamble Neil wasn’t willing to take. Perhaps Neil forged the doubts within Andrew’s mind, or perhaps he led Andrew to guess who he was. “You are reading my book,” Andrew added half a cigarette later, his hazel eyes focused on Neil. Neil had thought Andrew would be smug – in his own way – once he’d know. It wasn’t the case, Andrew bore the same intense expression he did before leaving the den, angry and… something else.

“I started reading it, I’m not sure to finish it,” Neil lied. “You’re a sentimentalist at heart, despite what people say,” Neil taunted, with the shadow of a smirk.

Andrew raised his eyebrows demanding Neil to develop.

“You didn’t turn off the TV and threw that remote because you were angry at Kevin. You did it for what she said. To you, there were only two people who could have been considered as the Butcher’s survivors at the time and they were never treated as such. But it doesn’t matter now, they’re dead. You can see them, and write about them at length, they won’t ever feel seen.” Neil felt like he was the recipient of his own words in order to sink Nathaniel deeper inside and ground Neil even more. “You have no right to be acting like a savior.” 

Andrew closed the gap between them so that they were at arm’s reach. “I’m not. Don’t dare thinking you know what’s on my mind because of a damn book I wrote,” Andrew warned him, dangerously. “Sentimentalism has no place in a cruel world,” he said with a tinge of irony.

Andrew blew the smoke of cigarette in Neil’s face, and Neil shamelessly breathed in. “It’s not the world that is cruel, it’s the people in it,” Neil corrected, placing his free hand in his pocket.

“So true,” Andrew scoffed. “Is that why you smiled earlier? You were fast running when we first met, yet you smile when the subject is a serial killer.”

“Well, I suppose torture fucks one’s mind. I learned that you can’t spend your life fearing dead people,” Neil admitted. For a moment, the orange light of the setting sun blinded him not enough to miss Andrew’s quick frowned and the gold of his irises. “Is that why you gave me a copy of your book?”

“I gave you a copy to piss you off.”

“Congratulations,” Neil bit, “it worked.”

“Yet, you’re reading it,” Andrew pointed out.

“Yet, I’m reading it.” Neil stepped back, disappointed to see that his cigarette was already burned down the filter. He turned around to watch the noisy kids playing, Fanny waved in their direction when she saw she had their attention.

“You wasted a perfectly fine cigarette,” Andrew waved back to his niece.

Neil opened his mouth and closed it when he heard the door. He tilted his head to notice Kevin Day walking towards them. The dark-haired man glanced at Neil, becoming aware of his surroundings, he controlled his lips shifting into a grimace at the last second probably in reaction to Neil’s scars.

Then, Kevin halted his course and his gaze flickered to Andrew. “Andrew, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, you know,” his voice was trembling, he was obviously worried of Andrew’s wrath. “I didn’t intend on saying this much on national television. I was talking about freedom, she asked and I answered. It was a weight that I carried and I wanted to be free from that and-”

Neil looked up at Kevin wondering what had interrupted his tirade, but nothing showed on the athlete’s face. Instead, he looked down to Andrew’s. Andrew seemed to be the most bored man on earth. It made Neil almost guffaw. Almost.

“You’re not angry?” Kevin questioned, surprised. Despite Andrew’s expression, Kevin crossed his arms with an accentuated, stressed frown.

“Should I be? About what?” Andrew replied casually.

“The others told me you were pissed off because of the show. But it’s definitely better if you aren’t.” Easily convinced, Kevin turned to Neil now that his worries were gone and held out a hand to him, “Kevin Day, you are?”

“Neil Josten, the kids’ coach,” he pointed the approximate direction of the girls behind him with a thumb, and politely grasped the man’s hand in a check. “Your father helped me a lot.”

“Oh yes, he mentioned you a few times. He didn’t tell you would be here today so I was surprised to see a new face,” Kevin said. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.” 

“Don’t talk about your exy bullshit in front of me. Waste the available oxygen elsewhere.” Andrew stopped them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin rolled his eyes before telling Andrew “I need to talk to you first.”

Neil understood immediately it meant he needed to leave them alone by the tone Kevin used, there even was intimate undertone to it. It was the first time in the day anyone illustrated their friendship with the blonde. Andrew had helped Kevin in so many ways in the past after offering his protection, that it had cemented their friendship stronger.

Neil knew better than to stay where he didn’t belong, so he nodded and went back inside.

* * *

“

Side note, the victims’ stories are shared with the consent of their family. The refusal of a few will be fully respected, and only their names will be mentioned.

_____________________________________________________

residence for a few months. Despite the FBI’s thorough investigations, the ties between the Hatfords and the Moriyamas have never been demonstrated². Thus, Mary’s family remains one of the largest law-abiding business empires in the United Kingdom.

To this day, Mary and Nathaniel’s route for France is mainly hypothetic. With the gathered information, we are able to speculate that they took the ferry from Portsmouth, England to Ouistreham, France. This speculation is supported by Mary’s possible train of thoughts, since she likely chose the boat as the safest traveling option – boats offering more ways to escape than planes. Furthermore, the first time Mary and Nathaniel have been detected in France was in the city of Caen³, (9.5 miles away from Ouistreham) in January 1999.

We estimate that they stayed in France for approximatively a year, journeying from town to town, and specifically avoiding the capital city. Their trajectory was, at the very least, curious as they hurried to the east of the country, to Strasbourg where we suspect they renewed their identity (Hélène and Mathieu Morin).

We ignore how Mary nurtured her falsifiers’ list although most of them have now been arrested – or killed by Nathan Wesninski – and submitted to cross-examination. Nevertheless, we have been able to collect the list of Mary and Nathaniel’s identities thanks to their arrestations, as well as the notes the FBI found in the house of Baltimore that Nathan had established during his hunt of Mary and Nathaniel.

Mary and Nathaniel moving to France with accurate names had for the sole purpose of going unnoticed. But going unnoticed meant adjusting to the culture and language of the country. According to witnesses who worked in the hotels where they stayed, they had French mastered by the time they reached Reims. “I had no idea that they weren’t French,” an anonymous witness told us, “However, I thought they were a battered wife and child.” “You didn’t think about reporting them?” they were asked, “unfortunately, they are not the only ones, we legally cannot report on suspicion only.”⁴

Witnesses are rare and precious when it comes to Mary and Nathaniel, their

_______________________________

² Publicly released FBI Report on the Hatford’s family, annex n°5302 page 368

³ Mary and Nathaniel’s Road map in France, annex n°5303 page 353

⁴ Interviews of witnesses in France, annex n°5304 page 354

10

”

* * *

During dinner, Neil followed Wymack and Kevin’s conversation about exy and added his own contribution to it. That caused Andrew to sigh every now and then although he listened to the discussion with attention. Neil heard the others talking about pet adoption with the children on the side, already in their pajamas. He watched carefully when Dan got up on her feet and pulled her phone out of her purse to take a picture. He averted his eyes from the camera, meeting Andrew’s interrogative and intense stare for a moment or two. The idea of being photographed made his skin crawl but he did nothing to move. He had to – wanted to – get used to it. Photographs were against everything he lived by; the permanency of his own image, free for everyone to see him and linger longer on his appearance. He looked away from Andrew to Renee who was smiling to the camera.

“We need to send a picture to Nicky,” Dan justified, already in position.

“Do you want me to take it?” Neil offered, Nicky – whom he didn’t know – didn’t need him in the photo after all. “You should be on the picture.”

“We can take two,” Dan concluded. “Girls, come to the front of the table, we can’t see you from there!” She told the children who obeyed.

Her picture taken, Neil borrowed her phone to take one in which Dan would appear. He waited for everyone’s attention to recalibrate the focus of the camera and couldn’t help but see how they reflected the image of a family. One that was dysfunctional for sure, but one that cared about and would kill to protect theirs. Neil photographed them with curving lips.

“When is Nicky coming? He should visit us soon, right?” Matt asked looking at Aaron and Andrew successively, crunching a fry.

The two of them keeping their mouths shut, Katelyn replied in their place with a huff of her own, “He’s coming next week. He wanted to be here today but Erik’s cousin marries this weekend. He should arrive on Wednesday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dan looked at Neil to explain, “Nicky is Andrew and Aaron’s cousin. He used to be a Fox. Now he lives in Germany with his German husband, Erik.”

Neil nodded, caution flaring in his chest. Was there a possibility that he had ever crossed Erik’s path during his time in Germany? He hoped not. He was young when he traveled through Germany but not so young as to not be unrecognizable with his current looks. But for now, there was nothing he could do, and like Betsy was used to telling him, ‘Don’t feel stressed over things or problems you can’t solve right away’. So, he did just that.

“Nice, we should invite him to dinner or something,” Abby said, tapping on Wymack’s shoulder who grunted in acknowledgement. She, then, turned her face to Andrew “Do you mind?”

“He’s the master of his own free will, Abby,” Andrew pointed out, with a shrug.

The Foxes continued to talk, planning their meeting with Nicky for a bit longer. Their personal schedules did not coincide for the next week, so they seemed to agree to see Nicky at different times.

When Betsy brought the cake to the table afterwards, everyone sang along until Abby blew out the two candles that had the same number five. They lit another candle for Lia who ‘reaaaaally wanted’ (her words) to blow out one, too. The children took a bit or two of the strawberry cream cake before yawning their way to the den. Neil was convinced they would be asleep within minutes.

“I almost forgot,” Allison started, “You’re all invited to a Gala, organized by my wonderful self, in three weeks.”

“Why for?” Kevin asked.

“The launch of my new clothing line, and I need my favorite brand ambassadors around,” she smiled mischievously. “I’ll loan you clothes of course. Some of you can keep them, you clearly need them. No offense.”

Unconcerned about the topic, Neil dipped his spoon into the piece of cake he was served, even though he wasn’t fond of sweets, the amount of strawberries largely made up for it.  

“Bring a plus one if you want. Kevin, if you could bring a fellow exy player, it would be great. Andrew, you’ll regret it if you don’t come. It’s not a threat, I just know of a few guests among my first buyers.” Allison grinned without revealing more. From the way he was looking up at her, Andrew’s curiosity was seemingly piqued.

“Jean will kill me if I ask for anything for the next year,” Kevin grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t care, bring Jeremy. I don’t mind if he’s retired. And Josten,” Allison paused, Neil lifted his head from his plate, “tell me when you’re available, in the next two weeks to try on clothes.”

“What? Why?” His surprise apparent on his face, utterly confused.

“Didn’t you hear the part where I said you were all invited?” Allison said bluntly. “That includes you.”

Neil wondered how she could think that he would make a great brand ambassador, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Allison sounded almost offended, “you’re here today, that means you’re a Fox now.”

Chapter Text

“I need to talk to you first,” Kevin said, serious and with the same kind of air he used when he was desperate.

Josten figured that Kevin wouldn’t speak around him just by Kevin’s tone – which was an easy guess. Andrew watched as Neil went back inside, his gaze lingering on the door like he was hypnotized, for a little longer.

Andrew never liked surprises, yet Neil Josten kept surprising him with his words and his ways.

The lying, oh-so-deep, deep icy blue eyes avoided being studied thanks to their sharpness. Unforgettable. And familiar, but not quite. Neil Josten made no sense, contradicting himself by his behavior, he was as unstable and jumpy as he seemed to have an unflinching confidence in his words. Andrew hadn’t believed any of Neil’s crap he had said about the reason he ran off when they first met. Neil Josten was a puzzle whose pieces had yet to be assembled. Andrew couldn’t deny his interest for Neil any more. It was a rare and dangerous one. Questions flew through his head, wonderings about scars and the raw smile he saw minutes ago.

His attention was brought back to Kevin when the man shifted awkwardly, in hesitation. “Speak,” Andrew said, his voice hoarse because of the chain-smoking he was currently doing.

“I did say what I said to Kathy Ferdinand’s show and I don’t regret it. There’s actually more to it that I won’t reveal publicly,” Kevin started confessing, his jaw clenching just from the tension he apparently felt. “But I want to tell you. I owe you that much. I know how important this subject is to you so,” he paused and sat on the edge of the decorative rock right next to Andrew, without touching him – Kevin knew better by now. “I think I know why Mary and Nathaniel ran away.”

Andrew blinked, slowly, swallowing the news. He craned his neck to look up at Kevin, curious.

“Nathaniel was to be the perfect court number three. I don’t know the details; we weren’t exactly the ones to be privy to the Moriyama’s businesses. All I know is that Nathan sold Nathaniel to the Moriyamas. Kengo believed nepotism fractured the upward loyalty of his people and lead them to think of their success first. Nathaniel was a loose end.

A day before I had the chance to meet him, his mother stole the money of the transaction and ran away with him. The Butcher was there that day to set an example, but I’ve always been convinced that the main target was supposed to be Nathaniel.” Kevin paused, catching his breath like he’d run dozens of miles. The silence was short but heavy. “I should have told you sooner, I’m sorry.”

Andrew considered Kevin’s words carefully. Rewinding and replaying them many times, as his eidetic memory allowed him. It had been quiet between them for minutes now, but Andrew didn’t care. He had to analyze each sentence.

As angry Andrew was to Kathy, Kevin did nothing wrong. He stated truths like he never did before. Andrew would never blame anyone for telling their truths. Maybe in the past, Andrew would have been furious that Kevin withheld this information since it could have been primordial to Kevin’s safety, but it didn’t matter anymore. All the people involved were either dead or in prison for life.

However, it brought more questions than answers for Mary and Nathaniel’s situation. Mary had left for Nathaniel’s sake, but was that really the case? Did she not believe her son could have made it in the perfect court and would die from his father’s hand? Was the life on the run a better life for a ten years old kid? She wasn’t to blame, though. She made a desperate decision in a desperate situation. None of the alternatives were better.

“You shouldn’t have to anything, you don’t owe me shit,” Andrew replied, his tone was firm. He smashed an umpteenth cigarette butt on the rock, knowing Abby would be unhappy with the ash marks. “And don’t fucking apologize.”

“I owe you, I never respected my end of the deal,” Kevin admitted, defeated.

Back in college, Andrew had offered to protect Kevin from the Moriyamas, while Kevin had promised him something to live for. For the single-minded Kevin, it meant a life around exy. He believed he’d failed Andrew by not giving him exy. What Kevin didn’t know was that if he really had failed him, Andrew would have stopped talking to him. Besides, Andrew would not even be here, dead or alive. Andrew felt that Kevin had held up his end of their bargain by keeping him alive long enough for Andrew to develop a real engrossment in criminology.

Back then, Andrew had never particularly cared for exy as much as Kevin had, but he had eventually admitted that it was a little more interesting than life itself. His interest in criminology was simply higher.

“You respected your end, Kevin. If you didn’t, neither of us would be here today.”

“I-” Kevin breathed out in a whisper.

“Exy isn’t everyone’s obsession,” Andrew’s voice was softer than his usual, not annoyed the least like he’d used to.

Kevin smiled without the outrage his younger self would have sported either. Andrew got up, abandoning the rock with the intention to going back inside when Kevin’s phone rang. Andrew cautiously paused his course for Kevin pick up his phone. There was no challenge recognizing the voice attacking Kevin’s ear, it was angry, French and loud enough for Andrew to hear.

“Mais t’es complètement con, c’est pas possible ! tu n’aurais pas pu me prévenir avant de dire des choses pareilles à une heure de grande écoute ? Au moins le temps que je me prépare psychologiquement de tes conneries.”

“Jean… désolé, je n’y ai pas pensé…”

Andrew couldn’t understand a word but snorted anyway.

* * *

Andrew stopped counting the number of times he’d read the case; starting either from the beginning or the end. He had long memorized it but an outline had yet to come up clear. At first, he had thought it was a tragically common femicide, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. The man had showed no sign of violence before the disappearance of his wife. However, he, afterwards, committed acts of violence against his stepchildren. That was Andrew’s reason for taking this case.

Tomas Castillo had denounced his stepfather’s violence, Anthony May, when he had been arrested. Obviously, no one had believed him. Children’s voices were never heard over adults. For the vast majority of people, children should be seen and not heard, especially if the child was disabled. He was charged and tried for arson of his stepfather’s car and for the kidnapping of his own sister – the charges were formed by Anthony himself. Tomas and his sister were quickly caught trying to steal food because of their age and their lack of discretion. This incident coincidentally occurred five weeks after their mother, Daniela Castillo, went missing.

Anthony May was the one who reported Daniela’s disappearance, oddly claiming that she would have never have left her children behind. Tomas corroborated this statement when Andrew had visited him at juvie. During the interrogation, Tomas continued his narrative – that Andrew had believed from the start – and confessed again that his stepfather had become increasingly erratic and violent toward him and his sister, but it wasn’t enough for them to have bruises. Yet, it was worrisome enough for him to leave with his sister, Andrew had pointed out.

Tomas was a smart kid, and suspected that his stepfather had something to do with his mother’s disappearance.  

The problem was that Tomas had never been able to accept the man as his “new father”, had always been suspicious and refused to let the man into his life after his biological father’s death. In the end, Tomas was judged to be the problem.

Unfortunately, Andrew had little to no hope for Daniela’s life. He didn’t think they would find her alive.

Sighing, he removed his glasses from his nose and tossed them on top of his pile of files and grabbed his monstruous chocolate-coffee-flavored sugar drink. His eyes focused on the light green wall above his black desk where he affixed sticky notes linked to the case. Andrew was supposed to give the FBI a clue to Daniela’s whereabouts, or something that would lead them to a culprit. Andrew was confident Anthony May was the culprit but he couldn’t accuse someone on instinct alone, he needed proof.

He gulped down his drink and spun around on his desk chair thrice. His ideas back in place he was ready to work again so he mechanically checked up his phone.

And of course, he should have not. His editor was being annoying asking him to accept interviews to explain his writing and investigation process, autograph sessions to please his fans. What his editor – and everyone, really – didn’t understand was that Andrew didn’t give a fuck about explaining himself, and even less about fans. If they insisted being called his fans, that meant they interpreted his works the wrong way. Fame and fans were pointless, the stories he told were, on the contrary, precious and meaningful. Every single person he had written about would always be more important than the author behind the words put together. It was the truth, without any self-depreciation implied.

Andrew let his eyes flickered his editor’s email notification, not bothering opening it.

Crimes & co Ed.

Hello Andrew,

I know you already said no but I really think….

He clicked to answer “No” and swiped to make the notification vanish.

He also received a text from Nicky, because when did he not. Nicky was talkative, so he had to text Andrew daily. Andrew speculated Nicky had some trouble handling the distance after so long being separated. He probably missed them and worried for them altogether.

Nicky

Andrew???? Who’s the new guy????? [IMG7542.JPEG]

Andrew rolled his eyes and considered not replying at all. He opened the text to see the picture; it was one of Dan’s she’d taken at Abby’s birthday. The camera caught the glances and smiles of the group, except for Andrew and Neil, who were staring at each other – glaring in Andrew’s opinion. It was likely that Dan had already taken a picture before she said she had.

Eventually, he typed, “Neil Josten”

Andrew’s phone suddenly rang, Nicky was calling. His cousin yelled as soon as he picked up, “You’re looking at each other like that, and he’s just Neil Josten!?”

Andrew almost hung up on Nicky. Almost.

No one knew he was gay. He never told anyone, didn’t see the point, really, and no one ever asked. No one besides Nicky. Nicky and Aaron had thought he was more private about his sex life at first, but he had known it couldn’t last his whole life. If Aaron chose not to care after their therapy sessions in their college years, Nicky thought otherwise.

Nicky had ended up delving into Andrew’s lack of interest in women – not that Andrew showed his attraction to men. He had questioned him on whether Andrew was gay or not, Andrew didn’t answer. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality but he didn’t want to speak about it at length. And Nicky wouldn’t shut up about it. So, Andrew didn’t deny it because he didn’t lie, but he didn’t confirm it either.

“Like what?” Andrew’s voice sounded like a warning.

“Oh, come on, you can’t look at this gorgeous man like you’re going to eat him up and actually ask me ‘like what’.”

Andrew had definitely not looked at Neil that way. It wasn’t why he was fascinated by the man in the first place so it didn’t matter. Yes, Neil Josten was hot, no, Andrew wouldn’t suck his dick. “Stop trying to hook me up with every guy I meet.”

“Okay, Okay.” Nicky knew better than to pry. “Just think about it, okay? I don’t want you to be alone all your life, you deserve this happiness, to have someone by your side.” Nicky said softly, like it was the first time they had this discussion. Andrew didn’t do relationships, and romance was a far too cheesy concept for him. “Anyway,” Nicky continued after his pause, “you can invite him to Eden’s next Friday so I can meet this new Fox?”

“Still going to clubs at almost forty?” Andrew sneered. He stood on his feet, leaving his office to shuffle to his kitchen.

“Hey, first, I’m two years away from forty so don’t age me up. And second, who do you take me for? I’ll still be in clubs at sixty.” Andrew snorted, not doubting his cousin, and heard echoes and a voice in the background on Nicky’s end of the phone. “I just got home. Erik says hi.”

“Hi,” Andrew said back. “I don’t mind going to Eden, but you’ll have to convince Aaron if he doesn’t have a shift.”

Throughout his twenties, Eden had been a way to find hook-ups since Roland met his current husband. It wasn’t the case anymore, now that he was in his mid-thirties, most of the clients were too young to even think about it. He still liked going to Eden, nonetheless.

“I’ll work on Aaron, ask Kevin and Neil.”

Andrew hummed, searching the cupboard for the chocolate chips muffin he bought earlier this morning to devour it. The cousins exchanged a few more words in order to organize Nicky’s arrival to Palmetto and his next week visiting. Nicky would stay at Andrew’s house and do whatever he wanted to do.

Once Andrew hung up, he texted Aaron offering to pick up the twins from school and driving them to their afternoon activities. He needed an excuse to meet Neil and ask him to come to Eden. Technically, a call would have been enough, but seeing Neil sounded more appealing. Every instance they met was a chance for Andrew to get the pieces of the puzzle together.

It was eleven in the morning when Andrew had given up working for the day entirely. The only way to proceed with the case was to find some trace of Daniela, dead or alive. Until then, there was not much Andrew could do. He had often suggested a search of the Castillo-May family home in an attempt to move things along but he, himself didn’t have the authority to make the request. His suggestions were dismissed every single time.

Instead, he headed to the mall. Whether Neil came to Eden or not, the man undeniably needed clothes. Andrew didn’t have to use his wits to figure out that the man didn’t have an appropriate outfit for Eden. Neil somewhat succeeded to stand out with the blandest clothes Andrew had ever seen. And he knew what he was talking about, he was a foster kid.

Andrew parked his flashy Maserati in the huge mall’s parking lot, as close to the entrance as he could get. He walked through the busy mall, dodging people, the aggressive white lights almost hurting his retinas, to reach his favorite store. If there was one thing that had never changed since his college days, it was the way he dressed; mostly full black with fantasies from time to time. Being close to thirty-five years old didn’t matter. Nicky called it a shop for goths – which it wasn’t – but it was the best place to find a suitable outfit for Eden.

He was greeted by rock music and subdued lighting, in stark contrast to the mall’s long hallway. He strolled between the shelves analyzing the clothes, and took a good look at what the store had to offer before choosing a pair of black cargo pants that would fit well on runner’s legs – not that Andrew watched Neil’s thighs intently, he just happened to have an eidetic memory. He picked three different sizes that he thought could match Neil’s and pursued his researches for a top and accessories. He selected a black long-sleeved turtleneck and a white shirt to wear over it. Once he had matching boots in hands – five models for five different sizes – he paid for the items.

Andrew was unbothered about the price; money was not a problem. There was at least one advantage being a famous author, and it was money. He bought a house big enough so his nieces had their own room when they came to visit, he bought a Maserati when his GT died because why not, and he bought Aaron a house when he was still in med school.

Neil Josten’s wardrobe insignificantly better, he exited the clothes’ store and passed the toy store he went with the girls last week. The vitrine reminded him about the giant pink bunny plush he saw with Fanny and Francesca that he promised to buy them next time. Andrew considered he had waited enough to gift them a new toy. Aaron and Katelyn tended to be upset when he bought them toys too frequently, but Andrew didn’t care.

Andrew was aware he had gone soft since his nieces were born. Katelyn’s pregnancy had been an accident while she and Aaron were both still in med school. After much deliberation, they’d decided to keep the twins. Andrew had babysat them a lot during their early years, writing his own thesis and first books. Eventually, Andrew grew so fond of them that he made a promise to his brother to protect the girls from whatever might happen to them. It was the one promise he never asked for anything in return. And he still stood by it.

Although he only tolerated Katelyn (he accepted she was part of Aaron’s life), Andrew admitted that Aaron and Katelyn were ridiculously great parents. The fact that they became parents when they were young or that they were doctors didn’t challenge their parenting capacities. They weren’t perfect, especially not on day one, but they were constantly learning.

Inside the colorful toy store, Andrew went straight to the point and bought the 3.2 feet bunny plush Aaron was going to be mad about. He headed back to his car with the stuffed animal, Neil’s clothes and his usual apathetic expression. He carefully placed the stuffed animal in the middle seat of the backseat and fastened the seatbelt, just as he would have done with a child. Andrew was sure the girls were going to love it.

* * *

“Uncle Drew!!!” Francesca ran towards him, obviously surprised of his presence in front of her school. Fanny was on her toes, they stopped right in front of him. “I thought mom was picking us today,” Fanny mumbled, calmly without sounding disappointed.

“I asked your parents to be the one picking you up, they agreed,” Andrew affirmed succinctly. He hovered both his hands over each of their heads, waiting for their nods to pat their blond heads. He ruffled their hair a little and offered his hands for them to hold on the way to the car. “We still have time before your dance lesson and exy practice, what about an ice cream?”

“Yes!” Francesca cried out enthusiastically, swinging her and Andrew’s arms back and forth. “Wait…” she paused, like she was changing her mind, “do you think Coach Neil will be angry if I eat ice cream before training?”

“No, he wouldn’t. I don’t think he can get angry at all,” Fanny answered. “But he can’t be angry for something he doesn’t know anyway.” She smiled at her sister in the same way she used to when she was up to causing trouble. Andrew’s lips curled slightly but he stayed silent. Fanny looked at his hand she was holding, and noticed the crackle in his black nail polish. “Your nail polish is fading. We’ll have to fix it.”

“Uh?” Francesca checked his nails to confirm Fanny’s words, “oh yes, it can’t do! Why didn’t you tell us on Saturday? We would have taken care of it, Uncle Drew!”

“It was fine on Saturday and I can fix it myself.” Andrew snorted. “How do you think I did when you weren’t born or when you were as small as tadpoles?”

“Alright,” Francesca granted. “BUT, now the fingernails of your right hand definitely look better, I’m sure.”

Andrew hummed as they got closer to the Maserati. It was Fanny who saw the giant bunny plush first, her eyes funnily opened wide along with her mouth, in awe. It was a rare expression to be seen on Fanny’s face, because she had taken a little too much from Aaron and his bored face.

“You bought the bunny!?” Fanny spoke louder than she usually did.

“WHAT!?” Francesca peered the inside of the car, and mimicked her sister’s expression. “Thank you!”

“Thank you, Uncle Drew,” Fanny said, in her regular tone. The girls climbed into the car, on either side of the stuffed animal. Fanny stroked it, appreciating its fluffiness while Francesca hugged it tightly. As soon as the girls had fastened their safety belts, Andrew got in the driver seat and started the engine. Fanny raised her voice after a moment of silence, “oh, mom and dad are so going to be mad at you.”

“They can’t be mad for something they don’t know, can they?” Andrew repeated his niece’s words, a laugh trapped in his throat. He put the car in reverse and pulled out to the laughter of his nieces.

After eating their ice cream at the diner, which they often went to together, Andrew dropped Fanny first to her dance lesson. Then, Andrew took the direction of the sport facility for Francesca’s exy practice. He listened patiently as Francesca chattered about her school day, not adding anything to the conversation, but humming from time to time to show his interest.

They arrived at the facility five minutes late, Andrew hauled the bags of clothes and shoes that had been left on the passenger seat with him. He caught Francesca’s curious glance as they walked to the door but he didn’t bother to explain himself since she didn’t ask. The door wasn’t locked so they entered the facility easily.

The noisy traffic from outside was replaced by the voices of a dozen of kids. Andrew noted the effort Neil had put into making the poor shaped facility look better, more child-friendly and welcoming with the cartoonish paintings decorating the walls’ hallway. Francesca saluted him with two fingers to her temple, and disappeared into the girl’s locker room. Andrew rolled his eyes, perhaps he had been a bit too much of an influence on the twins.

He dragged his feet into the semblance of a lounge where he heard an adult male voice, he guessed it was Neil’s. He stepped in the direction of the office the voice seemed to come from, and stopped at the threshold. Neil was sitting in a chair in the front of a desk, facing a boy sitting in another chair who was sniffing loudly.

“We’re going to have to fold your jeans up to your knees so we can see where you’re scratched, do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it yourself?” Neil asked, his shoulders slouched so the kid wouldn’t feel intimidated. The blue eyes peeked at Andrew for half a second to make his presence acknowledged and focused back on the boy.

“I want you to do it,” the boy said, stuttering from crying.

“Okay,” Neil whispered softly, his hands on his thighs. “I might have to touch you, is it okay Victor?”  Neil waited for Victor’s nod before pulling the jeans up over his knees. Andrew couldn’t see from where he was situated but Neil examined the kid’s legs. “I need to clean your wounds. It’s not deep or too serious so you’re going to be fine. The antiseptic can sting a little but I’m going to be so fast that you won’t even know. Still okay?”

Victor nodded again and Neil started treating his wounds. He worked as fast as he promised, the kid was on his feet within two minutes. Neil handed him a candy for being brave and told him to keep it a secret from others. Victor glanced at Andrew on his way to get changed into his exy gear.

Neil straightened his back and got up. The same way he did every time he was coaching the kids, Neil was wearing ugly yellow shorts, showing off the firm calf of a runner and his prosthetic – Andrew’s eyes drifted to the man’s healthy calf, but did not linger. Andrew looked up into Neil’s face, Neil blinked before he evened his gaze. Neil raised his eyebrows, questioning his presence and the three unmistakable bags at Andrew’s feet.

“You’re good with kids,” Andrew began with an affirmation, not answering Neil’s unspoken question. From experience, Andrew was automatically wary of adults around kids who had nothing to do with them initially. But Neil seemed to respect the kids’ boundaries, and didn’t raise any red flag in Andrew’s gut.

“It’s my job, I want them to feel the saftest they can be,” Neil said, crossing his arms to his chest.

Andrew assumed the man’s life was the reason behind his new vocation. From the looks of it, Neil had not been surrounded by loving parents growing up. Chocking, wasn’t it? Andrew wanted to know more. Andrew was all the more curious to know all about the man. The last time something – someone – piqued his curiosity with such intensity was years ago, when he came across Mary and Nathaniel Wesninski’s story in one of his criminology classes.

“But it wasn’t always your job, what did you do before?” Andrew asked as he leaned against the door frame.

Neil reacted with an almost imperceptible frown, but kept his composure, Andrew wondered if Neil’s next response was going to be a lie. Neil stared disturbingly into his eyes, as though he was gauging him. “I was a translator but it didn’t work out in the end,” Neil uttered lowly and looked away from Andrew, suddenly intrigued by the bags at Andrew’s feet. Andrew wasn’t dupe and knew there was a deeper meaning behind Neil’s words, but he didn’t pry. Not yet, not now. Whether or not the man had been involved in dangerous activities was made clear by the torture that had been inflicted on him, but Andrew would not find out the details today. “Why are you here for?”

“I drove my lovely niece to her exy practice, with nothing else in mind,” Andrew faked an innocent tone, like he often did.

He was met with a roll of Neil’s eyes, and the man indecently dared to lick his lips wet, “So?”

“You’re so not fun,” Andrew declared, after he cleared his throat, his eyes catching Neil’s again. “My dear cousin wants to meet you, so I came in his stead, because he’s still in Germany, to invite you to Eden on Friday.”

“What’s Eden?” Neil grabbed a kid’s racquet on his desk and approached Andrew at arm’s length.

“A club we used to go to in college, still go sometimes.” Andrew told him, and added, “It’s in Columbia, we have a house there.”

“I don’t drink or dance,” Neil pointed out. “It’s not exactly the best of the place to meet and get to know somebody.”

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to drink and I don’t dance either,” Andrew shrugged, purposely ignoring the second part of Neil’s sentence. “Kevin rarely does as well.”

“And what are these?” Neil looked at the bags, unimpressed.

“Your outfit for the night if you agree to come with us. I didn’t know your size so I bought different sizes, one must fit.”

It seemed to shut Neil up for a moment, Andrew saw him stop breathing and then take a deep breath successively. Neil discreetly clenched his free hand into a fist, likely drawing half-moons in his palm’s skin with his remaining nails without realizing it.

 “They’re just clothes,” Andrew said. As much as he was interested in the man’s story, he wasn’t so patient to deal with the man’s stupidest issues right now.

“I have money,” Neil finally muttered. “I could have bought them myself.”

“You can have all the money in the world,” Andrew replied as if nothing had just happened. “If you don’t know how to dress, it won’t help you.”

“Thanks,” Neil voiced ironically. Back to himself it seemed.

“We leave at 9, I’ll text you my address so you can decide whether you come or not,” Andrew explained. He pulled a cigarette out of its pack and tucked it behind his ear, waiting for Neil to say something else. Since the man didn’t, he ended the discussion with, “See you on Friday, rabbit,” and left.

As Andrew drove back home, he wondered about Neil’s many issues and secrets.

Chapter Text

For the first week in years, Neil didn’t have to turn off the TV before tying his shoe to go for a run. On Tuesday, Neil had decided the news blasting and looping on the Great Survivor of The Butcher Of Baltimore, Kevin Day, wasn’t worth listening to. The problem wasn’t the situation in itself nor Kevin – the man did nothing wrong. What really pissed him off was the repetition of the same wording from the worst to the best newspapers to the most obscure exy – or not – TV show. Hence, he preferred to ignore it.

His shoelace tied in a double knot, Neil tapped the floor three times with the tip of his toes.  Neil walked to his front door and stumbled over some paper bags he had yet to throw away. They were what remained of Andrew’s gifts. Neil had picked out the clothes that fit him and had gone to the mall a couple of days ago to return the ones that did not. Neil was determined to give the money back to Andrew.

The clothes were in a style that were far removed from Neil’s usual clothing. The outfit was skin-tight and it made him very aware of his own body. Neil was positive that his scars could be seen through the fabric. He didn’t check himself in the mirror while wearing them. Looking at his reflection was something he categorically avoided. However, Andrew had deliberately chosen one in which Neil’s skin wouldn’t be visible and Neil was glad for that.

It also was the first present Neil had ever received in his entire life. It had come so impromptu that he hadn’t been able to control his stuttering breaths and the freezing of his body when Andrew offered them. He had feigned normalcy afterward, but Andrew had clearly noticed his issues. Andrew could see through him more than Neil would have liked to. He analyzed his every move and questioned him bluntly, waiting for Neil to slip in some truths that he would actually believe.

On another hand, the Foxes’ attention was bewildering. Matt was suspiciously nice, texting him routinely to talk about anything and everything, while Renee kept him updated on Maya just as much. Allison’s nonsensical words, “You’re a Fox now”, still echoed in his mind. They didn’t know him, but they accepted him as their own simply because Wymack included him in their intimate celebration, surrounded by blood family and the family they’d made.

Neil didn’t know what to make of it. He had, once, longed for a place to belong, but it had been a childish dream. Presently, the mere idea of belonging somewhere freaked him out. In the end, Neil didn’t belong – nor fit – anywhere. And yet, ironically, he wanted to stay in Palmetto.

As soon as Neil stepped out of his apartment, he felt someone’s uncanny presence, standing in the dark shared second floor hallway. Maybe, it was his paranoia playing tricks on him, but it didn’t stop his one and a half legs from itching to run back inside and jump through the window to escape. Instead of acting on it, he gritted his teeth and breathed. He tapped cautiously – and quite randomly – the wall to find and turn the lights on, exactly one step on the right of his door.

The lights on, Neil didn’t loosen his guarded stance. A grimace distorted his face when his eyes met the man before him. The day was going to be long, “May I know why you are at my door at six in the morning?”

“Natascha is on maternity leave, so she asked me to take her place for this one time. If you have complaints, she booked the flight.” The man in his distinctive black suit walked proudly, somewhat absurdly cowboylike. Neil called it the hallmark of the profession. “Do you have any idea how hellish is the Baltimore’s airport?”

“Everything about this city is hellish,” Neil stated, crossing his arms to his chest. “But Agent Browning,” Neil’s tone was deadly serious, although a tiny hint of sarcasm seeped through, “last time I checked, you were a federal agent, did you have a change of heart and apply for a position in the witness protection program?”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m just legally obligated. The responsibility of visiting you falls on me when Natascha can’t. It wouldn’t happen if someone hadn’t joined the mafia right after leaving the program.”

Neil rolled his eyes and walked back inside, he wasn’t going to run with Browning at his heels, it’d ruin his fun. Neil had spent too many years of his life running away from the cops and the feds to take any kind of pleasure in it right now. Browning followed him and slammed the door shut behind him.

Neil had first left the WITSEC program a few months after his release from the psychiatric hospital. Back then, he’d ignored everything related to the Moriyama family, but that was one-sided; they’d found him quickly.

Three years ago, Neil denounced the Moriyamas and went back into the program. Legally, an average witness could leave the program at any time and regain their identity. Neil wasn’t an average witness. He wasn’t trusted by the feds or the judges, and was known for lying and for being flighty. It was undoubtedly unjustified. Yes, Neil hadn’t told all the truths but he had rarely lied to them. In fact, he had contributed a great deal to the arrest of the family and their allies. Ultimately, their defiance was greater and Neil’s unilateral decision to leave the program was deemed premature; a judge had ordered one day of visitation every six months for five years to ensure he didn’t get back into organized crime.

Browning scanned the living room regardfully, almost looking for some evidence in order to nail him for a crime. Deciding not to take offense, Neil maintained a rehearsed blank expression and slumped down on his couch, grabbing paperwork in the process. If he had to deal with Browning all day, he might as well make Browning’s day the most boring he ever had in his entire life.

“Your place is cramped,” Browning assessed, jerking his head right, left, and up to make a point. “It’s… surprising, I dare to say, considering your money and…”

“I like this place,” Neil cut him off. He wasn’t inclined to listen to the obnoxious words the agent was about to sputter. His apartment wasn’t a basement he was locked in. Baltimore was over five hundred miles away and its people six feet under. He wouldn’t let Browning compare his safe place to that hellhole. “I live alone, there’s no need for a bigger place. I don’t own much,” Neil added a note of finality to his tone.

Browning hummed and sat in the armchair next to the couch. Neil would have liked to deal with Natascha more. She was quiet. Neil dipped his head into his notebook to rewrite the Monday’s notes on his players’ files. They had talked about positions, and thankfully, the kids’ choice formed a balanced team and was quite accurate with what Neil had in mind for them. Francesca was going to be a goalie, Victor a dealer and Ana a striker, among others.

Neil tilted his head up when he heard a snort. Browning held Andrew’s book in his hand. Neil had apparently left it on the coffee table. “Really?” the federal agent scoffed and twisted his wrist to show Neil the cover. “Don’t you know the story by heart?”

Neil gave him an unimpressed look, shrugging, “Can’t refuse a gift.”

“You’re reading it, anyway,” Browning pointed out as he spotted the folded corner of the twentieth page. Neil didn’t read any more of Andrew’s book all week, he was stuck on page twenty. “Do they know who you are?” the man’s tone became intrusively interrogative.

“Of course not,” Neil replied firmly in hope to conclude the conversation.

“It better stays that way,” Browning warned. He dropped the book on the coffee table. “Natascha told me you became an exy coach for kids. I didn't take you for the kind of guy who would be good with kids.”

“I learned to be,” Neil was brief, unwilling to exchange pleasantries with the man, and pretended to be focusing on his paperwork. He asked nonetheless, “when are you leaving?”

“Once I’m sure you’re done with your day and at home tonight,” Browning answered, taking his phone out of his suit jacket, likely to busy himself.

“I’m not going home tonight,” Neil specified, not lifting his face from his files. “I’m going to Columbia.”

“Alone?” Browning questioned.

“No, with Andrew Minyard and Kevin Day,” this time Neil straightened his back and craned his neck toward the agent, eager to get a glimpse of his outraged disbelief. Neil had no doubt that these names were going to cause a reaction.

The man ran a hand down his face and sighed desperately, “I’ll need an explanation or two. Right now.”

* * *

Browning didn’t buy his explanations of how he met Andrew and Kevin. Either way, Neil didn’t try to convince him.

No, Neil had other preoccupations to worry about. For example, the fifteen teenagers constituting his dysfunctional Friday team shouting words and throwing fists on the court. Of the four teams he coached, the Friday team was the hardest to manage, most of the players didn’t get along and would start fights at the first chance they got. Neil was hoping it would get better but he wasn’t that naïve, he’d heard many stories from Wymack about team’s lack of cohesion, which never improved.

The last straw for Neil was when Oscar ditched his racquet violently to the ground and lunged at Daniel. Alice intervened to break up the soon-to-be brawl, uselessly.  “Stop, right there. And come here.” Neil spoke, his tone sharp and loud. “All of you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, his eyebrows twitching at Browning’s chuckle behind him. The federal agent watched the chaotic atmosphere unfold perched in the bleachers.

The teens obeyed – Neil appreciated the small victory. They jogged to the coach’s bench and arranged themselves in a semicircle around it. They formed three distinct groups, reflecting their disagreement. They weren’t silent doing so but Neil didn’t expect them to be.

“Being a total jerk wasn’t enough for you, you had to be a fucking freak too!” Daniel spat at Oscar. His face was flushed as though he wasn’t breathing at all.

“Fuck you!” Oscar gritted his teeth and nearly hissed, defensively. “Your little friend had to see it coming.”

“He didn’t! He wanted to prank you and you broke his arm for it!” Daniel was getting a little too close to Oscar for Neil’s liking. Neil shuffled swiftly to snag the back of Daniel’s collar as whispers rose among the players. Daniel struggled to free himself but Neil was stronger. “Coach, can’t you get rid of him?”

“No,” Neil said. He tugged on Daniel’s shirt slightly for him to give up the fight altogether. Neil loosened his grip to let his arm fall and dangle down by his hip.

Daniel steadied his feet on the ground and faced Neil, challenging, “why not?”

“No one’s getting rid of anyone.” Neil crossed his arms and elaborated, “I don’t know what happened and I’m surely not going to investigate.”

 Alice took a step out of her group, “Coach, that will only get us so far. I don’t think we can make it to a school team if there are… disruptive elements,” she tipped her chin at the boys, wincing in disgust.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Neil uttered, his daily allotted patience was wearing thin. “You all have the capacity – individually – to make it to a school team by next year with the proper training. But this disastrous teamwork will, indeed, only get you so far. I’m telling you right now to warn you. It’s the second practice, so we can improve that if you get yourself together,” Neil paused and flickered his eyes to Alice. “And Alice, each one of you is a disruptive element. Including you.”

Despite the fact that she had the best attitude on the team, she participated in insulting some of her teammates. Alice opened her mouth ready to argue till she was pulled back into her group by one of her friends.

Overall, the kids didn’t complain, indirectly agreeing with Neil. Unlike the kids in the juvenile detention center team, every single teenager present wanted to be here. They were young but they weren’t stupid, they could ponder what would work and what wouldn’t to achieve their goals. Them understanding his words was a good step forward for their improvement and their future.

“Today, I want you to run a mile to record your time,” Neil declared, changing the subject entirely.

The reactions were immediate, between groans and sighs, the teenagers started grumbling and moving around. “It’s useless, Coach.” Oscar lamented, “I signed for exy, not to train for a marathon,” the boy gestured to take a shot with an imaginary racquet – his was still abandoned in the middle of the court.

“It’s one of the most essential statistics,” Neil explained, his foot repeatedly striking the ground in an uneven beat. “The running mile is a reference for calculating your endurance. How fast you go is important for your reactivity on the court and how long you can stay on the court without getting tired.”

Oscar hummed and Adam, another player, sneered, “Easy for you, Coach. You can’t run.”

“I do, actually,” Neil replied without resentment, such comments were inevitable. “Before my accident, I used to run a four-minute mile. I now run an eight-minute mile.”

In the stands, Browning sounded stunned. The agent had met him at his worst, it was hard to believe Neil had been able to run at all and Neil had never confided in him about his hobby. Neil wasn’t in the mood for praise, nor did he ever want any for his running skills.

From the start of the practice, Browning’s presence weighed heavily on his mind - it was a constant reminder of the past Neil didn’t wish to mix with his present life. Maybe that was why he would have preferred to have Natasha around instead; her presence wasn't so reminiscent. It was only made worse now that he had seemingly been spotted by the team.

“Coach?” Alice questioned, she waited for Neil to share a look with her to continue, “I was meant to ask before but… uh… who’s the man in the bleachers?”

* * *

Squeaking sounds of forks hitting plates punctuated the dinner Neil and Browning were eating. Chewing a piece of fried chicken, Neil checked the time on his phone. Seven and a half. Andrew texted him briefly where he lived and reminded him when they were supposed to meet up, adding nothing more and leaving nothing less out. The sooner they finished eating, the sooner Neil could get ready for tonight and the sooner he could part with Browning.

Neil took a large bite of rice before Browning broke the settled silence. “Going anywhere near Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard is not a good idea. If they-“

“I know, Browning.” He concealed that he had been thinking about it constantly for the past two weeks. “I know more than anyone.”

Neil had brought up his outing with Andrew and Kevin (and Andrew’s cousin) earlier in the day to mess up with Browning, but in reality, Neil’s mind was far from peaceful. The thoughts kept pounding into his mind continuously, hammering out the same words as Browning’s. Neil had been having nightmares all week about Kevin Day finding out his identity and exposing him on national television. In the exact same way Kevin had revealed his meeting with the Butcher. They should have been friends since childhood, and yet, even as adults, everything seemed to drive them apart.

“We won’t ever be friends. Now you’ve finished eating, can you leave please?” Neil requested, politely. He got up and carried his empty plate to the sink.

“You know I can’t do that,” Browning denied as he was on Neil’s heel to drop his own plate in the sink.

“What?” Neil spun around, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you going to follow me to Columbia?”

“I’ll make sure you’re with those you said you’d go with.”

Neil recoiled, preventing a grimace from creasing his face, “Minyard will recognize you.”

“My name is out for those interested in your case, but not my face. As long as you don’t speak my name, it’s safe,” Browning sat back against the kitchen counter, resting his elbow on top of it.  “Minyard is the best criminologist in the country. Don’t expect your secret to stay a secret for so long.”

Neil decided not to answer and strolled to the bathroom. He wouldn’t let themselves fall into an endless loop of quoting every single inconvenience of ‘befriending’ – which was excessive to say – the foxes and especially Kevin and Andrew. His clothes for the evening were waiting to be worn on the sliding tabletop attached to the walls, right next to the chair he used to undress. Since he had already showered earlier, he took off his sweatpants to massage his limb with his prosthetic on.

After five minutes, Neil dressed. The white short-sleeved shirt detonated with the contrasting black jeans and turtleneck sweater. The shirt also hid the visible outlines of the scars on his back and torso through the fabric of the pullover. His arms didn’t receive the same treatment, though. He was aware of the bumps and craters of scar tissue enveloping the skin of his forearms. Neil took a deep breath in and ran a hand over his arm. No one would ever get close enough to check it out or touch it, everything would be fine. Andrew must have realized that Neil was covering up a lot more scars than just the ones on his face and hands anyway.

Neil opened the mirrored cabinet perfectly avoiding his reflection to pull the toothbrush and toothpaste out. His gaze landed on the silver chain necklace hanging from a small hook, it was the one and only item of his mother’s he kept. It hadn’t belonged to her to begin with, it was her brother’s, Stuart. Stuart had given her his own necklace the one time they’d visited him in England, right after they’d escaped from Baltimore. Stuart never said it out loud, but Neil had always assumed and Mary had probably understood his intention behind his gift; no matter what happened, he would have been by their side. Unfortunately, Mary hadn’t wanted to be associated with her mobster family. Neither had Neil.

This necklace had been Mary’s sole exception. It was the one possession that had remained, whoever she’d been, it’d always been hidden beneath whatever she’d worn. Had it been as a reminder of her promise to herself to never return or as a souvenir of her brother’s farewells.

Because his mother had never been materialistic or sentimental, even toward her son, Neil had kept the necklace after her death. This relic was a reminiscence that his mother had cared about something. It was proof that at least something had broken through the thick shell she had built to make herself invulnerable. A shell that even Neil had never been able to see through.

Neil seized the necklace and debated whether or not he should allow himself to wear it. It would be a good match with the rest of his outfit and no one could recognize it beside Stuart. His hesitation ended when his hands clipped the necklace’s lobster clasp around his neck.

He closed the cabinet and inspected his ornate neck. The jewelry nicely adorned the plain black turtleneck. He looked up to his hair purposefully skipping his face to check if it needed a fix. It did not so Neil headed back to the living room and glanced over Browning, “We’re leaving.”

Thankfully, Browning didn’t utter a word on his looks.

* * *

Andrew lived in an ostentatious two-story dark green house, with his equally ostentatious black sports car parked in the driveway. Neil let out a silent snort at the thought that Andrew’s wealth had been partially produced on his behalf. He didn’t care but the whole situation was brutally ironic. 

Neil parked and looked sideways at Browning, “You should call a taxi because I'm not driving you back to the airport.”

“Has anyone ever told you how charitable you were?” Browning deadpanned, unbelting himself.

“I'm not famous in your ranks for my charitable spirit, am I?” Neil grinned and opened his door and slapped it close once he was outside. 

The sunlight was slowly starting to turn orange, and a mildly warm breeze comfortably kissed the skin of his face. His turtleneck and the shirt over it did nothing to keep him from sweating in the early September weather. Surprisingly, it wasn’t so unpleasant. What was, on the contrary, was Neil Josten slipping out of his own body without bridging to anyone else, not even Nathaniel. Not even when Browning’s presence should have brought him back to the surface.

Neil waited, leaning against his car, for Browning to make his call before wandering to the house's entrance. Neil pressed the doorbell, Browning standing a little further away behind him - expectedly not far enough for Neil's comfort. Neil would have liked to see the man at a generous distance from Andrew’s house, preferably on a plane back to Baltimore.

Andrew unlocked the door open. Judging by the eye-catching, stylized harness he was wearing over a black shirt, Andrew was ready for the night. Neil parted his lips to say hello. His initiative was interrupted by a brown-skinned man with his hair tied back, who looked at him from Andrew's shoulder. Neil readily guessed he was the last Fox Neil had yet to meet, Nicholas Hemmick – Klose?  

“You're early, Josten,” Andrew said with his usual raspy voice.

“Better early than late,” Neil replied, his irises dropping into Andrew’s.

Neil noticed Nicholas smiling at him enthusiastically but Neil didn’t reciprocate it. The proximity between Andrew and Browning fueled his paranoia with what ifs. What-ifs filled by Andrew knowing. The tension that had built up with Browning around throughout the day stiffened Neil's shoulders to the back of his neck, forcing him to clench his jaw involuntarily. Andrew's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and drifted to Browning with an unmistakable air of suspicion. 

Neil tried to not give anything more away, he tilted his head to talk to the agent, not letting Andrew and the second man out of his peripheral vision, “is your taxi here yet?” 

Browning grumbled, brandishing his phone still in hands. “I just called, Josten. Give it time.”

“You don’t need me anymore, do you?” Neil asked, lastly.

“No, not today,” Browning confirmed.

Neil stopped himself from answering ‘not ever, hopefully’. But he knew it was unlikely. Moreover, those words would turn sour in his mouth if Andrew were to hear them right now and were to replace the frightening what ifs with certainties. Instead, Neil hummed. Browning strode away, and Neil focused on the two men on the other side of the threshold.

Andrew stepped back so Neil could walk in, “Who was that?” Andrew inquired, adjusting his armbands on his forearms.

“No one important,” Neil mumbled in an exhale. Neil was disappointed in himself, he was a better liar and a better faker than what this shabby performance showed. 

“That… was weird…” Nicholas said, in a language Neil spoke with the same ease as English. With his comment, Neil had a hunch that the man wasn’t talking to him. Still, Neil wondered if Matt had told them that he spoke German. Neil regretted mentioning it to Matt in the first place. After a half-hearted shrug from Andrew, Nicholas strengthened his hand to Neil, his smile back in place, “Hi, I’m Nicky Klose, Andrew’s and Aaron’s famous cousin.” 

Neil decidedly disregarded the first part of Nicky's sentence and said, “Neil Josten, nice to meet you,” accepting Nicky's hand to shake it. Neil wanted to divert the attention toward something else, so he asked, faking a tone full of curiosity “are you cousins by blood?”

“Surprising, isn’t it? But yes, from uh… my father's side.” Nicky pursed his lips, glancing at Andrew who didn't spare him a look. Andrew's gaze didn't stray from Neil. “Anyway, come on in.”

Andrew’s house interior was far more sober than what presaged the dazzling exterior. The colors were welcoming, not too cozy but not too cold either. Somehow, it fitted with the image Neil had of Andrew.

In the living room, Nicky invited Neil to sit down around the dining table. Nicky was completely comfortable around the house in a manner that it felt like it was his own. It didn’t seem to bother Andrew either way.

“We have a little time before Aaron arrives, and Kevin will be joining us directly at Sweetie's,” Nicky explained. “So, tell me, what do you think about the old Foxes? You've met all of them, right?” 

“They're fine,” Neil replied, rubbing his forearms with his hands. He noted that Sweetie's was a very different name from Eden but he didn’t ask.

“Oh, come on, you must have more opinions than that. My first thoughts when I met them were that Allison was a bitch and that Matt was hot,” Nicky paused a few seconds. Then, he added, “I still think the same but it's irrelevant.”

Without proper transition, Nicky proceeded to talk about his husband, Erik. The man had stayed in Germany in lieu of visiting Nicky’s cousins with him for reasons Neil didn’t catch.  Nicky explained they had met during his exchange in Germany, Erik's family had been his host family. Neil tuned him out when Nicky started gossiping about his colleagues. 

Andrew wasn’t participating much in the conversation. He hummed along, at most and it was the only indication he was actually listening. It seemed like Nicky was used to this one-sided chit-chatting because his smile never wavered and the relaxed atmosphere didn’t falter either.

However, Andrew kept throwing glances Neil's way. 

“...With how good I hear you are with kids, your wife shouldn't have to worry about when you'll be having children.”

Tuning the conversation back in, Neil blinked a couple of times at Nicky's affirmation. Neil promptly uttered, “I'm not married.”

“Oh, girlfriend, then? Or a boyfriend if you swing my way.”

“As nosey as ever,” another voice said. Footsteps approached them and Nicky's eyes lit up. Neil swirled his head to see it was Aaron.

Nicky got on his feet, “Aaron! We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I came in through the garage,” Aaron clarified, propping his arms on the back of a chair next to Neil's. He nodded mockingly at Andrew, “Congratulations on your new bestseller.”

Andrew flicked his wrist at Aaron with an eye roll. Andrew stood up and, before leaving the room, he said “Shut up and let’s go.”

Aaron puffed triumphantly and Nicky sighed, mimicking – deliberately or not – Andrew’s earlier eye-rolling. “Don’t mind them, Neil. Andrew is an amazing writer but hates the attention it gets him, Aaron loves to remind him.”

They headed out and Nicky offered to sit in the passenger seat of Andrew's car to ‘get the full Maserati experience’. Neil wasn’t interested in the offer since he had his own car to drive to Columbia. He didn’t see the point, anyway. “I'll take my car, I have to go home afterwards.”

“No,” Andrew told him. He was leaning casually against the Maserati, a cigarette in his mouth, characteristically. “You're not driving. We'll call for a taxi in case you miss home.”

Andrew's tone had a categorical edge in it, leaving little room for argument. Neil didn’t like depending on others and letting his possessions behind but he still hopped inside Andrew's car. As long as he slept at home tonight, nothing else mattered. 

Neil learned from Nicky, through the ride, that Sweetie’s was a diner where the man worked when the twins were in high school. Eventually, going to the diner and Eden’s Twilight became a ritual on Fridays for the entirety of their college years. 

Sweetie’s was a typical diner, flashy pastel colors and hardly busy at all, so it wasn’t hard to spot Kevin inside when they arrived. Nicky strolled over to the central counter to greet the staff he knew. Andrew and Aaron didn’t stop though and went straight to Kevin's chosen booth. Neil followed them. He was squeezed in between Kevin and Andrew while Aaron was on the other side of the booth - Nicky joined Aaron seconds later. 

“How was your week, Day?” Aaron asked, sliding the menu to Neil. Neil caught it instinctively but didn’t try to inspect it. 

“Terrible,” Kevin sighed with a grunt. 

“Oh, no,” Andrew started, sarcastically, “who would have thought?” 

“I didn’t think I’d be harassed by phone calls from every journalist there is,” Kevin sounded obviously annoyed. He picked up the glass in front of him, which appeared to be water, and took a sip like it was alcohol.

“Well, it’s not your fault if they like sucking your dick.” Nicky paused to hand Aaron a napkin on which he wrote down his order. “On a bright note, it just proves how much you are loved.”

Nicky was right, Kevin was and would always be the nation’s beloved. Despite Neil’s tempered thoughts on the matter, Kevin’s career and talent were phenomenal, Neil would forever be appreciative of that. 

It was Andrew's and Kevin's turn to write down their order before the napkin landed right in front of him. Neil read the scribbles on the napkin; from the names, the four men had basically ordered desserts. Neil had already eaten and wasn’t hungry for any kind of dessert so he wrote ‘bottle of water’. 

Andrew tore the paper from his hands and raised an eyebrow the moment he read his words, “Boring, Josten. They make the best ice cream around here.”

“I don’t like sweets,” Neil shrugged. 

“You should try this one,” Nicky suggested, pointing to a dessert on the menu with his index finger. “It's light and not too sweet. If you don’t like it, Andrew will. It won’t go to waste.” 

“Fine,” was all he said.

A waitress in an apron came to their table to take their orders so Andrew handed her the napkin. She quickly returned with their order, additionally handing each of them a glass and placing a pitcher of water on the table.  

Andrew was the first one to dip his spoon into his ice cream, but it was Nicky who spoke after taking a bite, “hm, it's as good as ever.” he put his dessert aside and continued, “I have an announcement to make. I’ve been waiting for our usual family gathering to tell you - Aaron, you’ll tell the girls later. Erik and I have decided to move out to South Carolina.”

“You're coming back?” Aaron asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Nicky softly smiled, “I do. Erik's mother died six months ago so Erik doesn’t have any connections in Germany anymore. Well, he does have uncles, aunts and cousins but their relationships aren't like ours. I know the girls are growing up but I don’t see them. I just… miss this,” he circled around with his finger. “I miss you.”

Aaron wasn't afraid to smile with his teeth, the affection in his eyes revealing that he missed his cousin just as much. "I'm glad you're back."

“It'll take a while before we actually move out but we’re working on it.”

“Thank god I won’t have to listen to Allison’s fashion nonsense anymore,” Kevin grinned.

Neil felt like a foreign piece positioned to awkwardly witness the happiness of a family that wasn’t and would never be his. A family that had lived through a ton of incidents and arguments but where everyone found their place. He had felt it at Abby's house, yet, there, it was just stronger, more intense. 

Neil took a bite or two of his ice cream and concluded the dessert was still too sweet for him. He pushed his bowl over to Andrew and indulged to look at the blond. Andrew's face was impassive, like it did most of the time. It only urged Neil to stare into the hazel irises, Neil knew that a man's eyes were the catalyst of his emotions. He found what he was looking for, the same, but admittedly more discreet affection he had noticed in Aaron's expression.

“So, Neil?” Nicky changed the subject, turning the attention to Neil. “You didn't answer me earlier.”

“About what?” Neil furrowed his brows.

“Whether you had a girlfriend or not. Actually, let me rephrase it. Which way do you swing?”

“Oh god,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Let the man alone.”

“Is it important?” Neil asked.

“Yes” and “No” were said simultaneously. Nicky and Aaron's voices clashed, contradicting the other.

Neil didn’t understand how some people could be so single-minded about love and relationships when there were more interesting things out there, like exy.  Matt had questioned him over it so he replied, “I don’t swing either way.” It was a simply put truth that was probably more complex if anyone tried to dwell on it - which he didn’t.

“Really?” Nicky's tone was doubtful.

“Yes.” 

Nicky nodded and the conversation shifted again. Neil shared a few words with Kevin about the beginning of the exy's season. The exy player was as much a fan of the sport as he was a professional. For Neil, this sincerity made the man even more admirable. 

Finally, they abandoned their booth, paid for their meals and walked out of the restaurant to drive to Eden's Twilight.

Andrew kicked them out of the car as soon as he received a red VIP card from one of the club's bouncers, which granted him access to the parking lot. His foot on the ground, Neil scanned the unfamiliar setting around. Red lights, framework high, flashed the name of the club. Music was leaking out of the dark building in indiscernible muffled tones, and a dozen people, dressed in a style similar to his, lined up at the entrance.

Kevin and Aaron were already far ahead, shamelessly cutting through the line and shaking hands with the bouncer. Neil glanced at Nicky, who was smiling next to him, “The twins and I worked here too, when they were in high school. The twins are treated like local heroes here,” Nicky chuckled.

“How did it happen? For it to be just the three of you?” Neil felt like he was prying, but it was too late, the questions were out.

Nicky replied to him, toddling toward the entrance. “When Tilda, my aunt, died, I took the twins in. The alternative was for my father to take them in, and ugh, there was no way I was going to let that happen.” Nicky didn’t hide the disgust in his voice. “It's the best decision I've ever made. But, well to sum it up, we bought the house in Columbia and lived our lives.”

Neil made a noncommittal noise to indicate he had heard his story. Nicky said hello to the bouncer and they walked through the door only to be assaulted by a wave of accumulated body heat and the stench of sweat. Neil was instantly overwhelmed by the loud music blasting through the walls and floor, shaking him to his core. 

Too many people were dancing on the dedicated dance floor. They were also jumping up and down to show their enthusiasm for the DJs, overlooking the dancers on their own platform.

The door opened again behind Neil to reveal Andrew.

“I'll look for Kevin and Aaron, they probably found a table,” Nicky yelled to be heard. 

Neil stepped to follow him but he was tugged back by Andrew - who carefully avoided physical contact. Andrew pulled him again, trailing to the bar. Neil let him. 

A bartender flashed a smile at Andrew before looking at Neil, up and down. “Hey Andrew, it's been a while! And you’re not alone,” he smirked at the blond, whatever that meant, and pursued, “who is he?”

“No one important,” Andrew extracted his credit card out of his wallet. “Family's here tonight, the usual.”

“Okay. Your cousin too?” When Andrew nodded, the man tilted his head to look at him, “I'm Roland. What can I get for you?”

“Neil. A soda,” he said concisely, “sealed.”

“Ouch, how untrustworthy,” Andrew pounded his chest dramatically, “it hurts how little faith you have in us.”

“It's not about you, I think you can see why,” Neil emphasized on the ‘see’. It wasn’t about drugs, not really. Well, he had heard about them and Mary made sure he was always on the alert. But he guessed it was fundamentally the same, he didn’t want to find any weird stuff in his food or drinks. At Sweetie's, he could have seen if something was wrong. There, he could barely see his shoes.

While Roland prepared their drinks, Neil's gaze wandered around. A tall brown-haired man was watching him on the other side of the bar, the man grinning at him as if he was waiting for Neil to smile back. Neil didn’t do so and moved his eyes on the woman right next to the man. 

“Here you go. Your drinks,” Roland presented the tray to Andrew. Andrew took it with ease and pathed his way towards the table that Aaron and Kevin had apparently found. Neil walked as close to Andrew as he could mentally manage, lest he get lost or swallowed up in a stampede.

“Fucking finally, I was thirsty!” Kevin shouted. 

The men threw themselves at the available drinks and shots and inhaled them at the speed of light. Neil didn’t understand how they could enjoy this, but at least they didn’t comment on his non-participation in the drinking. 

Aaron and Nicky were fast to disappear to the dancefloor but Andrew and Kevin stayed. Neil talked a bit more with Kevin, about exy and about coaching kids. Although Andrew didn’t listen to them, he kept looking around. Protective, Neil thought. 

Neil met the eyes of the man who had been watching him earlier, again. This time, discomfort seized his chest. In Neil's book, once was a coincidence, twice was a misfortune. He knew rationally that no one would recognize him here, and no one would be able to reach him when he was surrounded like that. Unfortunately, he grew up and survived by paying attention to every detail. And this man was one detail too many. 

Neil focused on his surroundings again and downed his soda, which was a little too sweet for his taste. Andrew and Kevin debated whether it was better to be a cat than a human. Unexpectedly, Andrew was a cat supporter while Kevin single-mindedly thought he couldn’t play exy if he was a cat. Neil's lips quirked up at that.

When Neil couldn’t dismiss his thirst, he stood up determinedly to fetch some water. 

“Where are you going?” Andrew demanded between two sips of his alcoholic beverage. 

“Water, I'm thirsty.”

Andrew nodded but didn’t look away. Neil ignored the blond's gaze on him and dodged the people not so effortlessly up to the bar where Roland welcomed him. 

“Soda?” The bartender guessed.

“No, a bottle of water.” 

"I have to get some bottles to the storehouse, wait here," Roland said and stepped through a door, supposedly the storehouse. 

Neil glanced in the direction of their table but he could only note the top of Kevin's head. Then, he pivoted his body to face the bar and noticed the brown-haired man slipping something into one of the drinks in front of him. The man saw him and smiled to show off his two missing teeth. With the man's build, it was likely he was a combat jock.

“Hey,” the man spoke. Neil blinked at him, expressionless, with no desire to engage in conversation. “Uh, I’ve been watching you all night, you’re quite mesmerizing. We've been looking for a third party for the night with my girl and you look exactly like our taste.”

Neil's nose wrinkled at those words. He knew he shouldn’t bother, really. It wasn’t his problem to deal with. Maybe, it was the tension of the day, of the place. He could find many excuses but, in the end, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Is it ‘your girl’ drink that you spiked?” Neil inquired, innocence in his tone.

“What?” The man turned his head to his drinks and his eyes rebounded on Neil, “oh, this is just to have a little fun.”

“Does she know, though?” Neil frowned as he crossed his arms to his chest.

“It doesn’t matter, listen-”

“You know? Maybe, before you look for a third party, you should look for your two missing teeth,” a distorted smile curved his lips. One that resembled a little too closely to the Butcher's. One that he hated so much but had no control over.

“What did you just say!?” The man growled, he raised his hand forming a fist, ready to strike.

Finishing a fight wasn’t Neil Josten forte but using his environment to escape one was. The dim light was to his advantage, as the man stepped forward, Neil extended his malfunctioning leg to cause the man to stumble. It worked fantastically well, better than Neil had planned. The man fell miserably, his chin hitting the counter of the bar.

With a satisfied grin on his face, Neil heard Roland panicking in the background, he wasn’t done yet. Neil grabbed the spiked drink and poured the liquid on the man's head, too disoriented to get up.

“Next time, you'll think twice before spiking a lady's drink.”

Neil tilted his head to where Roland should be. The bartender actually was on their side of the bar, as well as a small audience. Neil recoiled and leaned against the bar until a hand grasped his white shirt in a fist and pulled him out of the crowd. Neil didn’t have the time to panic before he saw it was Andrew. 

Andrew dragged him further into the club, right up to a door marked "STAFF". Andrew shoved him inside without freeing him, and continued down a hallway. The passage was perfectly dark except for a red “EXIT” sign. Neil suddenly felt his heart quicken and loop in his thorax. Neil much preferred it when lights were on.

“Andrew, where are we-”

He was interrupted by the creak of yet another door and they entered yet another room. Andrew slammed the door shut and pushed him against the wall, pinning him down. Neil groaned in pain as his back hit the wall. Andrew had one arm just below his collarbone and one hand flat on his stomach. Andrew's legs pretty much blocked his own.

“Don't move while I'm still nice,” Andrew warned. “I don’t think you’re too fond of knives.”

Neil swallowed his saliva, felt the sweat run down his temples and wet his hair. The room, a bedroom it seemed, was cramped, too dark. The little he could see was thanks to the feeble night light coming through the window. Lines of a bed, lines of Andrew's face, sounds of his erratic beating heart. He was in a bedroom of a club or in a basement in Baltimore, at the moment, it was the same difference.

“As entertaining as this has been, let's stop this now,” Andrew's voice was furious. “Who the hell are you?”

“Neil Josten,” he muttered lowly. “Is this why you brought me here? For this moment?”

“No, but I changed my mind,” Andrew's arm slid slowly, very slowly to his throat. “Are you really just Neil Josten?”

“When did you change your mind? And who do you want me to be if not Neil Josten?”

Neil was done for; Andrew was about to figure it out and everyone would find out soon after. His deserved and desired peaceful life was gone even before he could even taste it. He would never live outside the Butcher's shadow, no matter how long he'd been dead.

"I changed my mind when you acted so suspiciously on my doorstep and brought an equally suspicious man with you. I think you're dangerous, Neil Josten. We finally got rid of the mafia, I don't mind getting rid of you if it means you won't take Kevin or any of my family with you.”

Neil stopped breathing at once, Andrew was so far from the truth and yet so close that it was frightening. Nothing should give Neil away, not even Browning's presence. Everything Andrew had said would have been true if he had ever talked to a younger version of Neil. “You think I'm a part of the mafia?” Neil asked, out of breath.

“I don’t know, you tell me. Your eyes aren't just those of a victim.”

“You're insane,” Neil stated. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Tell me something I actually believe.” Andrew’s arm reached around his throat and drawing a guttural sound from Neil.

“Just ask,” Neil's voice was high-pitched, Andrew's arm squeezing his vocal cords.

“I did ask about the man you brought to my house. You didn’t answer.”

Neil weighed his options. He didn't have any, he had to give away a few truths in order to mix them up with other lies. He had to build a coherent and believable story in seconds, a story that Andrew Minyard would buy. Whether it was the lack of oxygen to his brain or not, his head hurt but he had to think fast.

Neil inhaled deeply and exhaled, as much as Andrew's arm would allow. “Fine. But, first, you let me go. And you’ll turn on the lights.”

Andrew didn’t reply, Neil couldn’t make much out of his expression so he only guessed that Andrew was pondering his words. After a moment, the blond pushed Neil behind him, one last time and released him. Andrew pressed his own back to the door and turned on the light.

“Speak,” Andrew said, “first, who was the man.”

Neil let out a stuttering breath and explained, truthfully, “He's an FBI agent. Every six months I'm shadowed for a day by an agent from the Witness Protection Program. Normally, it's not an FBI agent but she couldn’t make it today so he came instead. It's been like that ever since I left the program. They usually don’t do this but I'm a special case.”

Curiously, Neil felt his heartbeat calm down. His face was blank, he was tired. The spoken truth, as small as it was, lifted a weight out from his shoulders.

“Why are you a special case?” Andrew questioned; his arms crossed. His posture wasn’t defensive, but Neil knew better than to take even a wrong step.

Neil's shoulders slumped, “Because they don’t trust me. I didn’t lie much but I didn’t tell them the whole truth the first time. After a stay in the program, I went back to where I used to be. A gang it was. A family business for some. It wasn't by choice, of course. Call it ingrained survival instinct or whatever you want. But with my parents dead, I was the next one they could reach, I guess."

His words were cryptic, but they encoded the whole truth. He hoped Andrew would accept it, because that was all he could give away today. His lips curved into a crooked smile, it wasn’t the Butcher's, but it wasn’t his own either. It was a mixture of desperation, survival and truth. He hid the ugly smile behind the back of his hand.

Andrew walked over to him, grabbed Neil's hand to move it out of the way so he could get a full view of his expression. A strange look crossed Andrew's face that Neil had no trouble reading. It was one of complete understanding.

“Where are your monsters, now?” Andrew asked.

“Dead or imprisoned,” Neil answered simply.

“Good,” Andrew nodded.

“Is it enough?”

“It is, for now,” Andrew released his hand.

Neil sighed of relief. The blond would be contradictory if Neil didn’t know where he was coming from. It didn't make it better, but Neil understood. After all, his concerns were justified. They remained there for a moment or two in a comfortable, settled silence. Neil lost himself in thoughts of his life in Palmetto, something he was allowed to have.

Finally, Andrew motioned to the door, “Oh, Josten?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t bring a pig to my house ever again.”