Jiskastya

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Kay.

We are almost all caught up on the copy-paste. Thanks for being willing.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Unintended consequences.

He had reminded himself of them, even as he had hurtled over the edge. They were the dark face, looming just behind the brilliance, laughing at him. They were the darkness that existed in his very heart, those unintended consequences. His inability to think about anyone other than himself meant that the plans that kept him safe kept getting everyone else hurt. Emotionally hurt, scarred by his sudden disappearances and the lurking suspicion that, despite the way he acted, he never really cared about them anyways. Physically hurt, bleeding out on the pavement, clubbed over the head.

Drowned.

She had jumped in after him. Every time he had fled, it was with the certainty that he was fleeing in a way that she would not dare repeat. The boat, the police station, the building. And now, the river. For who would be foolish enough to chase after someone into one of the most deadly currents in the United States?

Unintended consequences.

He had thought that he had gone full circle before, just as he was making the choice to leap over the edge. But he had been wrong. Because, even with the water pulling him around and the headache that was beginning to form as he worked with the numbers, kept the water from sweeping him away so violently that even his luck might not be able to drag him out of it, he was also standing before that underground casino in Richmond, watching as the wound in Bree's chest slowly pumped her lifeblood out all over the concrete.

If he did nothing for her, she would die. She was already dying. The water wouldn't treat her with the same courtesy it treated Ethan. In fact, if anything, the water was worse behind him, as his tampering broke the natural rhythms that usually controlled the flow of the water, sending it into an even higher state of turbulence. There was no way she could control her progress through the water, and she could only hold her breath for so long. And it was just as likely, when that desperate moment came, that she would be under the water as it was that she would be above it. Either way, she wouldn't last the four fifths of a mile that remained before the steep drop ended and the river leveled off. They would find her broken and bloated body washed ashore in some park downriver, or in some random citizen's backyard.

This was it. This was the end of their horrific game of cat and mouse. She was dead, and he was free. He hadn't forced her to jump after him. She had made her own choice, known the consequences perfectly well. Now she was going to die, and the person who had spearheaded this whole investigation against him was going to be gone. He would finally be able to return to his own life, where he could pretend that there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. Where he could simply be the luckiest man in the world.

Where he would be tormented forever by the deaths that hovered over him. Where her face would never allow him to forget that, for all his talents, he was entirely less than human. Because he let her die, let her die for his own selfish reasons. It didn't matter that saving her would bind him to her irrevocably. He had already saved her once. And since that moment, maybe even before, they had been bound together. It didn't matter that saving her would likely mean that he went to jail, that the free life he treasured so dearly would be gone. It didn't matter, because he could save her.

And he could. He had already saved her once, and he could do it again, almost as easily. Water was far easier to knit together than flesh, because it was always in motion. He had been studying water for hours and hours and hours, and he knew it almost as well as he knew himself. It would not be easy to go get her, but he could. And he could keep both of them alive and relatively intact until the river smoothed out, and he could drag them both ashore. And if he did nothing he would once more have taken the life of someone who was not yet ready to die. And there was nothing in his mind that could truly justify Bree as guilty. Victor had laid down his cards, he had made his choices, and Ethan had only made the death at the hands of the mob that had been waiting for him come a few years sooner. But Bree had only ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been far too moral and determined for her own good.

He could not let her die. Not here. Not now. Not when it was still possible for him to save her.

And that thought brought him peace. It was as though some giant weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders since Victor's death had been lifted away. This act would not pardon his other failure, but it would prove that he was still human. It would not get rid of the darkness he had found within himself, but it would show that it did not define his existence.

He threw himself towards her, and the numbers bent and then finally broke under the power of his will. The current spat, violently, aggressively, and hurled him back upriver. He didn't need to look to know where she was, and as he was pulled under the water after her his hands reached out blindly and closed solidly around the front of her chest. He pulled her in close to him, pressing her back tight against his chest, and the water swirled around them and pulled them both back up to the surface.

He took a deep, heaving breath before going completely limp, focusing on nothing but the numbers and his grip on Bree. It would do him no good to struggle. If he couldn't control the water, if he couldn't control the numbers, then there was no way Bree would be making it out of this alive. And that was not an option.

The time it took to get to the bottom of the rapid was the longest ten minutes of Ethan's life. The water swirled around them like an uncaged beast, always one moment away from plunging them both back under the water and keeping them there until they gave up on life and inhaled the deadly liquid. And at times even Ethan couldn't hold them both above the water any longer, and they would plunge back over, hurtled along under the water until he could find a number that would push them back to the surface.

It was the rocks that nearly broke Ethan, though. A stick was light enough that even a small eddy in the current could circle it around any potentially bone-breaking collision. Ethan alone would have had enough trouble making sure that he did not crash into anything. Ethan and Bree together, and even luck was not enough to keep them safe. He was back to finding a way to force the numbers into complete improbability, because even a single collision would be enough to shatter his concentration, and then they would both be doomed.

And when he thought he could go no further, that he must give up and die, he remembered the woman in his arms, felt the bass beat of her heart, and found another drop of resolve to pull from within himself. He committed himself fully to her survival, and he fought not for himself. He fought for another chance for her to live.

And then the rapids were over. He saw the water leveling out before he felt it. The calmer waters made the numbers much more difficult to mold, but that did not matter, because the water was also so much safer. There were no more rocks, no more sudden currents wanting to drag them under and hold them there. They had made it. And they were both alive. Now he only had to get them to shore.

But there was nothing left in him. How ironic, to find that he had the strength to get them both safely through the currents, but when they were only moments away from safety he did not even have the strength to drag them the rest of the way to shore. Now, when the water was nearly still, they were going to drown.

He couldn't open his eyes, and the numbers were starting to fade away. He knew he was bleeding, that the fragile tissues in his nose, eyes, and mouth had broken under the strain. And he knew he wasn't going to be the one to get them safely to shore. Now it would be up to Bree to save them both, or to let them both die. He had done the best he was able to do.

But his hands didn't unlatch from around her chest, even as he spiraled into unconsciousness.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

One more day.

The thought was on loop in Ethan's head, echoing, bouncing around his mind that suddenly seemed incapable of completing any other thought. One more day. One more. One day. One. One more day, and he would have been on the road. Their paths would never have crossed, and he would have worked his way around the entire country before coming into contact with her again. Maybe it would have been even more than that. Maybe, one more day, and he never would have seen her again.

But the numbers didn't deal in what might have been. They dealt in what was to come, and what was. And what was, what completely, incontrovertibly was, was the fact that Bree was standing right in front of him, staring at him with horror and something almost close to... acceptance? But Ethan could feel no acceptance. He could not accept the fact that fate, a concept he had never even begun to allow himself to believe in, had driven them together against all odds. How could she be here, now? How could he be here, now? How could they be here, together, right now?

But there was still a chance he could alter this, could set the path back on something he desired, could find one more way out, and maybe avoid this damnable fate all together. He ignored her question, scanning the numbers as fast as he could. And then he found it, a way out that was not impossible at all, but was entirely probable. She didn't believe that he was real. She thought he was just an illusion, created by her mind to torment her. And he could use that. If he was careful, maybe he could keep her believing that just long enough to get away.

"Then mommy, what are those two people doing out there?"

And then it was gone. As quick as the chance had come, it was gone. Snatched away by the same coincidences that had kept him from noticing, every time she drew close. A mother and her adventurous young son were walking along the nearby path, in the one spot where the overhang could be easily seen. The boy wanted to go out, look over the river, and his mother wouldn't let him. So he grasped onto the only possible counter he could have, there were already people out there.

"They are adults, dear. You aren't."

And she had heard it. He knew with the same certainty that he knew everything. She had heard it, and believed it. And any opportunity that may have existed was suddenly crushed, completely and totally obliterated. There was no way for him to get out, the numbers told him that with certainty. There was only one option left. He would have to kill her.

He nearly blanched as the idea passed through his mind. Images of Victor, poor blood soaked Victor flashed through his mind. And as he looked at her, he saw the wound in her chest. Saw it with a detail that only he and the surgeon who had operated on her would know. He had saved her life then, even when he could have left her to die. And she would have died, had he not intervened. The numbers, and the headache that had pounded through his head for days afterwords, told him that.

Could he really kill her? The darkness in his heart told him that he could, that it would be so easy to tweak the numbers, to push her into the river... The river.

Suddenly, a whole new range of possibilities opened up before his mind's eye. Possibilities that worked themselves together so cleanly, it was as though it was meant to be. The river beckoned him, and he forced himself not to think about what had happened the last time the numbers had come together with such ease, of the bodies it had left behind...

He had no choice. This was the only option. Just as Victor had been the only option. How was it, so far from where this whole thing had started, he had come full circle? He was once more facing certain imprisonment, and once more there was one way out. One way out that would almost certainly have unintended consequences. But he had no choice. His dice had been cast, and there was nothing left that he could change. He would not go to jail, would not go with her. And he would not take her life. His only choice was to flee, and the river beckoned.

And in one fluid movement he turned, vaulted the railing, and fell, twisting gracefully through the air as he fell. The water grabbed him gently, sweeping him away, twirling him around like a dancer. But its grip was polite, nothing like the raging current that had already claimed lives. He was free. Once more he was on the run.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Cool. I won't deny, I'm probably going to be just a bit stingy on completely freeform, because I did do a lot of writing over the summer, and that did make it a bit more structured than I intended before you vanished. But I will try my best to be relaxed, I truly will. And, after this case, then I truly have no plans. None, zip, zero, not even a basic concept.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

From Ethan's perspective, Bend, Oregon felt like a quaint town longing to pretend that it was a quaint metropolis. There was no doubt that he would be able to find everything he needed to survive in a place like this, but the city alternated between housing districts that were lower end, and the really rich who built monstrous homes on tiny lots. Downtown Bend followed the major highway that ran through the city, but less than four blocks from that highway the tall buildings and commercial shops were replaced by treed parks, and homes on large green lots.

Ethan spent his first night in a park, settling himself under a large, leafy tree, falling asleep to the sound of the river. The only reason he dared such a thing was because he was one of the only people in town who knew for a fact that it was not going to rain that night, despite what the low-hanging grey clouds might say to the contrary. As he fell asleep, Ethan toyed with the idea of becoming a meteorologist with some amusement, imagining the kind of reputation he could build for being able to predict the weather with such accuracy. They did, after all, deal in probability. However, the joy of the meaningless idea was instantly squashed when he realized that he would have to go on television to do such a thing, and that would doubtless alert Bree to his location. It wasn't so much the fact that he couldn't become a meteorologist that bothered him, the idea had been pure fancy anyways, it was the fact that the fear of this FBI agent, and it was indeed fear by now, for she kept turning up at the most unlikely moments, that fear kept him from doing things. Ethan was a free spirit, and being caged by something as severe as fear nearly broke his heart. He let out a miserable sigh before rolling over, tucking his head in close to his chest and drifting off to sleep.

He settled into Bend somewhat reluctantly. The town was not a bad place, but the last two places he had allowed himself the luxury of settling into had driven him away just as he might start to consider it home. He rented a room, purchasing only those things that he needed to survive. He didn't plan on staying in the city for very long; he had been dropped off by fate, and fate had not been kind to him lately. He would stay for a week, maybe two, just long enough to heal from the physical and emotional wounds he had received from his unexpected flight from Chicago. He still favored the shoulder he had dislocated, worrying about straining it again. But that did not stop him from going for a run every morning. That same fear that kept him from settling in drove him to push his limits, and his lung capacity quickly grew until he was nearly sprinting the miles. He grew familiar with some of the back roads, the places where only residential cars ever went. He spent his nights in various hotels, never willing to spend more than a night or two in one room, no matter what kind of discount a longer stay might have earned him.

Bend advertised its river rapids with little shame, a one mile whitewater rafting stretch just a couple of miles out of town. It was a dangerous stretch of river, and it had claimed more than a couple lives in its years, but if anything that made it all the more popular. Experienced people went down it alone or in small groups. Those less familiar with navigating the water could go on a guided raft. There was an elevated platform that stretched out just over the river, only a few hundred feet from the point where most rafters would put in. Ethan found the place on one of his morning runs, and he found himself returning there with some regularity. The water below was white and frothing, and it practically enveloped the rafters who came along occasionally. He found the same comfort in the river that he had found in the ocean back in Port Townsend. The numbers practically overwhelmed him, leaving no room for extraneous thoughts. It was calming, and he mostly went in the late evening, before he had to return to his hotel room and try and sleep.

He was almost ready to move on again, to pack his few supplies and head down to the highway. He didn't need someone who would take him far, just far enough that his paranoia might let him rest again. He was going for one last run, along the route he had been running for just long enough to call himself fond of it. It took him along the river, and ended at that platform overlooking the rapids. His shirt was plastered to his back by the time he reached the overlook, and he leaned heavily on the railing, sticking his head out far to try and catch a few faint droplets from the splashing of the cold river. The water seemed particularly restless that day, the numbers easy to control. There was something flickering in the corner of his mind, something changing, but he dismissed it and turned his attention back to the swirling currents. He allowed himself the brief pleasure of altering the numbers until a swirl of water spat a floating leaf up towards him. He reached out and snagged the leaf between two fingers, a grin spreading across his face.

He released it just as suddenly when the changing number he had dismissed before suddenly forced itself into the forefront of his mind. His hands balled into fists, and his eyes widened with fear. No. It was impossible. He hadn't even known he was coming here, so how could she possibly be approaching him from behind. He turned around slowly, knowing that she had already seen him, that she was already suspicious. How had this happened?

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Kay. As I said, so long as we get to a generalized ending I have in mind which forces Ethan to reveal the full extent of his powers just as the case ends, I think we are good.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

It was almost a surprise to Ethan the kind of man who stopped on the side of the road to pick him up as he stumbled his way slowly towards the outskirts of Chicago. He was gruff and silent, pulling over and throwing the door open for him with hardly a glance in his direction. If he hadn't known full well that this man would never hurt him, Ethan might never have gotten into the car. It was a small, neat, two-door Honda with comfortable seats, a small crack in the window that looked like a songbird, and a mess of stuff in the back. The man did not speak to him at all, other than to ask how far he was going. Once he had been informed that Ethan needed to go as far west as possible, he turned up the music, a wide collection of classic rock, and devoted himself to driving. He hardly looked over at Ethan for the rest of the drive.

Ethan's decision to go west again had happened more by instinct than from any real logic. He was running away again, and somehow Bree had changed from a person to a whole organization, looming from the east. His only thought was to get away, and somehow the peace of the northwest, the trees and mountains and general lack of hordes of people, felt more safe. He certainly wasn't going to travel towards Virginia, that place where this whole nightmare had begun. He didn't even want to pass through Virginia, which automatically ruled out almost all of the northeast. The fact that his silent chauffeur was heading towards a town in Oregon sealed his decision.

They had a rather strange arrangement, this quiet man who Ethan eventually got the name Matt out of, and himself. Despite his attitude, Matt was a surprisingly sympathetic and gentle man. He spent the two nights they were on the road in different hotels, and since each of them had a double bed he gave Ethan a place to sleep. Ethan did his best to help out by paying for gas with the small roll of bills he had found shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. He had to break the hundreds carefully, when Matt wasn't looking, as he didn't really want the man wondering from where Ethan got the cash. But Matt hadn't really expected the help from his unexpected traveling buddy, and he didn't question Ethan at all. After a wary first night in which neither man slept particularly well, the silence between them started to become almost companionable. Neither knew anything about the other except for a first name, and the fact that they both had an appreciation for Stairway to Heaven. Driving through the middle of the Nebraskan fields the song came up in shuffle. Ethan started out only humming, but when he heard Matt's husky voice he couldn't help but throw in his own accompaniment. Their voices mixed fairly well, considering neither of them could really hold a tune. But it cracked the last of the ice between them, and they started to trade a few words with comfort.

Matt dumped him with no ceremony on the outskirts of Bend, OR. He pulled the car over as soon as the houses started to rise about them, and turned to look at Ethan. He had been expecting the dismissal for over ten minutes, and he opened the door without any prompting. He offered Matt a brief smile, which the large man returned hesitantly a moment later. And that was it. Ethan closed the door and Matt drove away.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Again, this was based off of some information I found on the FBI webpage that said agents don't have long-standing partners, but rather people that they work with on a case-by-case basis. I introduce Tanner by having him reveal he's been on a different case for months, which is why he wasn't able to support Bree with Ethan. But they've worked cases together before, they know each other well, and they know how the other works.

Sure, we can do that. We just have to make sure that our ideas synch up, or we will end up trying to write completely opposite things.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

He laughed at her final words, a harsh, cruel barking laugh that contained more pain than actual humor. He could not figure out what she expected from him. Or, perhaps more importantly, he couldn't figure out what he expected from her. He could see in her eyes that she wasn't going to let him go until she finally caught him, and yet he still planned to run. At the moment, it seemed like the only option. Whether or not it was an "only option" like Victor had been an "only option" remained to be seen. The numbers were coming together, there were only a few more seconds left. The wind was fast, whipping him from side to side, and only the numbers held him in place.

"You are quite right, Bree." he replied, his voice so quiet that it would almost be lost in the wind. "You've got it all wrong." The tarp below him was flapping wildly as the wind eddied around the building. One last sharp gust pulled it out of the window, and sent one end of it flying out into empty air. It whirled around like a giant white flag, before another gust of wind pushed it up towards the roof. "But I won't be the one explaining it to you."

He smiled blissfully, and gave one final shove to the numbers. And then everything was in place. His body tipped back fluidly, arching like a high-jumper hurtling over the pole. His feet slipped off the edge and he let out an exultant whoop as the air rushed around him. He snagged the corner of the tarp fluttering below him, and the force of his fall ripped it completely out from where it was attached to the wall. The small piece of drywall that came with it fell much faster than the impromptu parachute, and Ethan twisted wildly in mid fall, snagging the other corner. For one moment before the plastic opened up, it looked like two wings spread out behind his back.

A sudden gust of wind came up from below, billowing the thin, watertight plastic out in the air. Ethan slowed violently, and he couldn't help the small groan that slipped from between his lips as one of his shoulders dislocated. Just because he had been expecting it didn't make the pain any less. He glided for barely half a second, before releasing the tarp just about a story above the ground and falling towards earth. He rolled out on the concrete sidewalk, letting out a scream as his shoulder was popped back into place by the roll.

Ethan had no talent for parkour, but even someone who had never practiced free running had the chance, by pure, dumb luck, to get an almost perfect roll. The concrete scraped against the palms of his hands, ripping skin, and his hoodie ripped when a thread got caught on a particularly rough patch of ground, but all things considered he was remarkably intact. He was far more intact, in fact, than he had any right to be.

This time, he didn't bother with any sort of theatrics towards the certainly dumbfounded agent who must surely be watching him from fifteen stories up. His fall had been theatrics enough. Perhaps even too much theatrics. Instead, he gathered his feet under him, stood, and hobbled away as quickly as he could. His stride loosened up as he moved, and pretty soon he was rolling through the streets at a decent clip. It was time to get out of this city, time to get away from all the things that were waiting for him in it. A part of him longed to return to the sweet, simple life of Port Townsend, where he could go where he would and do what he pleased, but he shook away the thought of such a simple, good life the way he might try and shake away a fly. It was not something of which he had any right to dream.

He didn't look back as he ran, didn't bother to check what Bree might be doing. They weren't going to catch up to him again in this city. Somewhere nearby there was a person who hadn't been completely hardened by this part of town yet, a person who also wouldn't recognize him. That person would take him somewhere, somewhere far away from here, where he might get a chance to start again, at least until Bree showed up and drove him to run once more.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

"Killing a man?" Ethan replied, feigning surprise and indignation even as his gut twisted inside of him. "What did I do?" But he couldn't outright deny it. Not even to her. Somehow, hearing her direct accusation brought him right back to the ferry ride to Seattle, to all the confusion and the guilt. Back to the moments when he had still believed that he was a good man. He had forgotten that darkness inside of him, even as he wandered about in the darkness of Chicago. He had been silent and distant from everyone and everything around him, and somehow that had sealed himself away.

Perhaps he should step down off the wall, admit to everything. What could they really do to him? It wasn't as though there was any evidence tying him to Victor's death, and even if he pleaded guilty, what jury in their right mind would convict him? And even if they did, even if they sent him to a maximum security prison, how long would it be before he got tired, or scared, or bored, and walked out of it just as he had walked out of the police station in Seattle? If he did that, he would never be able to live in America again. And this was his home, the whole messed up country in one lovely bundle.

No, his only option was escape, to just keep running until they decided they were done with him. For how long could they chase him?

"Are you worried about me, Bree," he said mockingly, his head tilting to the side, green eyes narrowing. "Are you worried about a murderer?" Was it really indignation that colored his voice such a dark shade, that caused him to dance around on the edge of the wall like some tightrope walker? Or was it that darkness inside of him, that belief that he was better, that he was infallible, and that the power he held gave him the right to torment other people, to play with their lives. To end their lives. He glared at her, eyes spitting fire. Before she had arrived he was nothing but a normal man, a man with too much luck, perhaps, but certainly not the dark monster for which he now saw himself. But the glare, even though it was directed at Bree, was far more cruel to his own heart than it could ever be to hers.

He just wanted to go, wanted to get away from this person who drove him to such extremes. He couldn't blame her, he had made his choices, and there was no going back on them now. But he wanted her to vanish. Vanish, and never come back. And all he needed was another minute or two. Another minute to make sure that all the details would come together without fail.