I could have a million more excuses for why these chapters took so long, but the true & condensed version is: I got maple syrup on my keyboard = ruined. I couldn't write very efficiently on my phone and it was Frustrating. Then I wasted weeks not buying a new keyboard because I told myself that $15 was Too Much Money for such a Dumb Mistake

Anyway, here's three chapters, for the three months it took for me to update. Can't promise that updates will be any quicker, because I have officially run out of 1st draft material.

- Penny

TW for dissociation

In the wake of the League's failed plot, once he had regained clarity, Crane's first thought was that he needed to immunize himself against his toxin. It was an intense and damaging process, but it was, by all rights, a success.

The plan was to dose Evie in a more...innocuous, and certainly less extreme way. He hadn't yet settled on a precise method, but it didn't matter so much now, as he was running out of both time and luck. Circumstance demanded action, as unfortunate as it was.

Crane crouched down next to Evie, observing her glossy, thousand yard stare. He made some alterations to the dose, to prevent her from harming or otherwise calling attention to herself, assuming the changes would put her in a dazed state and slow down her reaction time - much like concentrated doses often resulted in - but appeared to have left her more or less catatonic.

A pity, he thought to himself. How interesting it would have been, to know what she was seeing.

The soft, wet crunch of the snow under her boots filled the air, distracting her from the man holding her hand.

Darcy couldn't say how or when things changed, or why. All she knew was that one day, she felt as though a piece of her had been boxed up, and locked behind a door. That each night since, in her dreams, she sat at the foot of the door, felt it shake beneath her fingertips, the voices behind it faraway and familiar, and her heart ached to hear what they were saying. When she awoke, it felt like another piece was gone. Every day, every moment, was a strange, out of body experience. What was this place? This house? This man? She knew what things were supposed to be - she was Darcy, that man was her husband. This was their home and their life was just fine. Pressing against that veil beyond the surface resulted in little more than an ominous sense of...something, deep in the pit of her stomach. It felt like...a warning.

Theo stopped walking, jerking her away from that train of thought. "Well, this must be the cabin." It was perhaps the most befitting of the "lakeside house" title in the entire neighborhood, if a little ostentatious. One half-expected there might be a golf course sitting behind it. "Shall we?"

"Mhm." Darcy hummed back politely, trying not to grit her teeth. Theo had recently trimmed his beard down to stubble, and while she had no love for the beard, she like this look less for some reason. Perhaps it was the whole face causing the issue.

The pathway to the house was clear - no more distracting noises to be had, until Theo rang the bell.

There was a moments pause where he looked at her like he might deliver a lecture. He had already given her one at the house before they left, explaining what they were about to do in a step-by step process, as if she were a very slow child - but the door opened, interrupting him.

Phil Green was younger than either of them expected, as only Cait had been the only non-retiree they had come across. He was mid-twenty's, tall, red-haired, with heavily freckled arms. At first he did look confused, they were strangers in this tiny, close-knit neighborhood, but it quickly dawned on him what that meant for him.

"You must be the couple in the Queen." He grinned. "You two have been quite the talk of the town."

"That's us." Theo finally let go of her hand to shake Phil's. "And word is you're the contractor who knows exactly what to do to that house."

The exchange felt so painfully artificial, she could just die of the secondhand embarrassment.

"Anyway, I'm Theo, this is my wife, Darcy."

There was her cue; she smiled and stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, yeah. Theo and Darcy, those names really fit - I love it." Said Phil. He let go of Darcy's hand, crossing his arms over his chest and turning back to Theo. "So, about your house, yes I am in - I've been dreaming of fixing that place up my whole life - but I am actually about five days out on wrapping up my current project. So, here's what I'm gonna do for you right now. I could drop off some lookbooks first thing in the morning, to give you an idea on what I can do for you. Maybe get a quick look at the layout, if that's alright with you?"

Darcy could barely keep up with what he was saying, but he had a friendly type of voice. She sunk into the background, letting their conversation wash over her. It didn't really require her input anyway.

"Well it was great meeting the both of you. Hopefully we'll have the ball rolling by the weekend, yeah?"

"Sounds great." They shook hands again. Finally, this was over.

Once they were back in the house, she was pulled aside. "You need to get ahold of yourself, Evie." Theo said to her in firm, low voice. Darcy's chest tightened, and she bit her tongue, hard. He was always talking down to her, using That Name. It made her see red, mind fizzling like the static screen at the end of a VHS tape.

He straitened himself, taking off his coat. "We should probably do a bit of spring cleaning before he comes over. Clear out all the junk. Can't imagine wanting to keep much of what's already here, anyway."

True, and Darcy could use some mindless activity. "Like that nonsense in the kitchen."

"Well, we can start there, sure."

That was all the permission she needed, turning on her heels and walking away from him. She put a box on the table in the nook, quickly filling it up with every stock photo of a sunflower, every floral plate and nick-knack on the walls and shelves. The pile grew, with the box barely big enough to hold all of it. The task didn't take nearly as long as she wanted it to, but she could still lengthen it, ever so slightly, with a trip to the detached garage, and perhaps some brooding silence by the lake.

As she jimmied the garage door open, one of the precariously placed glass figures toppled out, shattering on the pathway. Darcy's eyes widened at the sound. It was so...refreshing. She perched the box on an old stool inside, and closed the door behind her. Heart racing, she picked out a plate, and hurled it to the other end of the room and watched it shatter. Another glass figure, which exploded into a million shards and splinters. Again, and again, until the entire box of sunny tchotchke's lay mangled on the cold concrete, broken beyond repair.

When Darcy walked back across the glass-strewn floor, she imagined the crunch under her boots belonged to Theo's glasses. It was quite the satisfying thought.

On the way back to the house, she noticed Gladys watching from her porch. Darcy wished she would have saved something to chuck at that woman's smug face.

"What was that ruckus?" She shouted from across the street, tone polite but ever pressing. "I nearly thought to call the cops!"

If she was so damn desperate for drama, Darcy didn't understand why she chose to live in a cluster of houses in the middle of nowhere over an actual town.

She waited until she reached the front door to call back. "Spring cleaning." The door slammed behind her, and the whole house seemed to groan in protest. She waited for Theo's voice to follow, chiding her carelessness. There was silence for a moment, some vague creaks far above her, and then nothing again. Probably in the attic, where he had been spending a lot of time lately. So much for joining in the cleaning he had been so eager to suggest. Darcy had no idea what there was to do up there, but having no one looking over her shoulder for a while was fine in her book, even if it came at the cost of boredom. Theo always carried the keys to the truck on him. She was never bored enough to subject herself to hanging out with Gladys, or Cait. There were some books, but it was all science and no fiction; nothing she could slink away into and be part of for a little while. She could clean some more, but... No.

"Bath time it is." Darcy said to herself. After all, she covered in sweat, dust, and glass splinters. It was very itchy.

There wasn't a whole lot in this house for her to enjoy yet, but there was a very nice clawfoot tub sitting in their bright, mint-colored and checker-floored master bathroom. It was kind of a pain to have to rinse off before taking an actual bath, but it did make the overall experience feel that much more thoughtful and luxurious. She was just starting to relax when the door to the attic could be heard opening and slamming shut. Darcy sunk into the water and let out the longest sigh, the water bubbling aggressively in front of her nose. This seemed about right. The floorboard creaks continued as Theo puttered around the house, looking for her. Back up the stairs he went, into their room, finally noticing the light on underneath the bathroom door. Darcy pulled her knees up to her chest and watched the knob turn.

"Oh, there you are." He said simply, before his eyes locked rather intensely with hers. "Getting ready for bed?"

She didn't think it was anywhere close to late, but she didn't seem to have a very good sense of time lately. It's be worse now, seeing as she had just smashed the only clock in the house (though it probably hadn't been accurate for probably a decade) to bits. "Yeah." Darcy agreed weakly.

"Good...good." Theo was looking rather dusty himself, but even after shucking off his sweater, he made no move or indication that he wanted to join her. Instead he went to the sink, washed his face, and left her alone again.

Darcy tried to close her eyes and get back to some semblance of calm, however, his absence had not granted her that level of relief. Biting her tongue, she yanked the plug and got out, hoping sleep would offer less interruption. Covered head to toe in goosebumps, Darcy half-dried herself off and put on pajamas. The fabric stuck to her skin in some places, but there were more unpleasant things to experience, weren't there? Theo was on the other side of the door, and he would probably want to talk.

Theo straitened up while she climbed into bed. Definitely wanted to talk. "How did you feel today?" He asked softly, though he sounded more clinical than caring.

Darcy's clipped answer already told him half of what he wanted to know. "Fine."

"Be honest." He said, again, now sounding a touch too stern.

"I'm just feeling kind of, stifled, or something."

"So, frustrated?"

She let out a short, through-the-nose sigh. "Yeah."

"Would you like to go to sleep now?"

"Yep." Darcy turned off the light and fell back onto the pillows, about to close her eyes when she felt the bed shift. Theo had turned his body toward hers, and was reaching out. There was something small was in his hand, half-covered with his sleeve, and Darcy spotted the glint of plastic. It hardly looked dangerous - she balked as he started moving the hand up toward her face, suppressing a "what the hell?". She could tell he wasn't trying to make this an intimate moment, so she didn't want to make too big a deal with whatever he was doing, but what was with this weird vibe? His fingers brushed against her throat, and then, somewhere, the fog cleared, and something clicked. This had happened before.

Crane's expression suddenly warmed up. "There you are." He breathed.