The Ballad of Wesley-Khan and Wafflehouse


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Scene Title The Ballad of Wesley-Khan and Wafflehouse
Synopsis The story of a week in the lives of two travelers from another time, and how they finally found what they'd been searching for.
Date January 12, 2019 to January 19, 2019

University of Kansas

Lawrence, Kansas

January 12, 2019

Fluorescent lights spark and sputter in a basement storage room. Metal shelves are toppled over, forming an A-frame shape where they’ve collided together. Cardboard boxes filled with manilla folders, old VHS cassette tapes, and hardback books are heaped into a pile in the middle of the floor. A few loose sheets of paper drift through the air, between a thin spider’s web of luminescent cracks slowly sealing shut in the air.

The pile of books and papers slides as an arm rises up from beneath them. The mound parts, books and papers sliding over one another as Shahid Khan rises up from the heap of books, a bruise on his forehead and hair disheveled. As he sits up, Isabelle Ashford rises up next to him from beneath the heaping pile of books, blood smeared across her face from the massive cut from jaw to brow. There’s no one here to greet them.

Sitting up amidst the mess of academia, Shaw lets out a pained groan. His whole body feels sore, but nothing prepares him for the sting of lancing pain down his back side for the moment. His immediate reaction is a sharp hiss of breath, a wince of his features and slight lean to a side in hopes of alleviating the ache. He lifts a hand, starting to run his fingers through his hair, but stops as he sees the reddish-brown blood caked upon it, the coppery smell of it tinted with that of singed flesh.

Then he remembers. Shackles and blue, bubbling fluids. A broad framed man, a brunette-haired woman. The rainbows of light. The sensation of breaking apart and being whole all at once…

Shaw’s eyes snap wide open and round, and in a rush of panic he looks for Isa. Finding her beside him, he barely exhales in relief. Just barely, because his rounded, dark eyes stare at the cut to her face. “Eanqa’,” he gasps out, bloody hands reaching for hers. For her. It’s all swept away as he clings on to her in those long moments. Shaw trembles against her, feeling the prickling of goosebumps along his cool, bare skin.


She had awaken just before him and her hazel eyes had since sunk to their half lidded gaze, she was fighting to stay awake herself. They had both lost so much blood, she reaches with her hand and grasps to his. Isa takes a moment to stare into his eyes, the tunnel.. the colors.. falling out.. being ripped apart and slammed back together. "We're not dead." She says helpfully, yet that is. Shifting her weight to support herself better she takes a look around the room, something about it makes her want to stop but time isn't with them.

Leaning in close to kiss the man she rests her bloody forehead against his breathing shallowly, "We need to get, clothes. A shower." The scar on her face glows that orange glow and she notices the light a little from the bottom of her vision. Her ability was firmly in her grasp and she hadn't had the chance to really feel that, the air around them a comfortable warmth but Isa shivered still. Clinging close to Shaw she begins to move forward, they don't have a choice. "Where.. the fuck.. did we land? …Liz…? …Magnes and Ruiz..? Lynette?" They were alone.

He doesn’t mind that her forehead presses against the bruise on his. Reciprocating her affection by pressing a light kiss to her just under the jaw, Shaw composes himself once more when she responds to him, an overwhelming relief floods through his person. The faintly glow of her facial scar brings his focus to it as well. While he feels the urge to touch, though, he does not. Not yet. “My back hurts,” he admits softly, pointedly not confessing to the throbbing, lancing pains plaguing his burned arm. The air is warm, but his body still shivers as well. Not because of physical cold, but because the adrenaline levels have fallen. And the return of system shock, of their most recent memories.

And the uncertainty of where they are, alone and what appears to be… “I don’t know. Looks like a library room? But, there’s no cats here.” Their most recent experiences with the huge library in a flooded world left him with quite an impression. A gathering of knowledge. But with the mention of the missing others, alarm levels start to climb again. It does get him moving.

Pushing aside the heaps of books and loose papers, Shaw starts to rise. He pauses with a bloody handprint on one of the folders as his eyes spot some letterhead. “University of Kansas,” he reads aloud, brow furrowing at the school logo atop of a folder. “…We’re in Kansas?” Well it certainly feels like they’ve been shot through a hellacious twister, in reverse, since they just came from Oz. His hand lifts away then pushes himself up to a wobbly stand. He uses one of the shelves as a support, then offers a hand out to help Isa up as well.

"Good I don't actually like them." Cats that is, or kids. Namiko is different though she's a teenage- "Namiko.." Mouth tightening into a tight line as she feels something in her chest that has nothing to do with her injuries or her fire. "We have to get to her." No matter what, there was Magnes and Liz.. she couldn't keep thinking about them for now she needed the tangible and that would help the both of them forward.

Shahid provides the information that just might help them afterall. "Kansas! Like when me and Magnes came here and stole a wall." Izzy thinks back fondly to that moment, that was before she betrayed everyone by working with PARIAH.

"There's dorms, showers…" Thinking of a good cover before the lightbulb flicks on in her head. "We're in the drama department, practicing our makeup skills for Sweeney Todd." Isa has only seen the film.

“Stole a… a wall?” Shaw echoes of Isa’s anecdote, blinking owlishly at the woman. He nearly misses the explanation of their cover story, but he nods anyway to indicate he’s heard some part of it. No doubt they watched the film together, as he starts humming a few bars of A Little Priest to effect. The humming stops when he gets to a part of the song that reminds him. “I’m hungry, are you?” he asks as he helps the pyrokinetic up. “Still no waffles,” he murmurs with a look around. “I hope Namiko found some.”

As his hand grasps on Isa’s in that moment, Shaw tightens on the jaw with a swell of a thought and furrow of his brows. “Maybe the teleporter’s with her. And Ruiz. And Lynette. And Evie… maybe they’re all waiting for us.” He’d come to regard them as one large traveling family at this point. The newcomers he was still learning about, but eventually he’d get around to their stories. Heaving a sigh, Shaw blinks away the faint sheen of tears starting to gather on the corners of his eyes. He looks at Isa, musters a smile, and with a few papers clutched to his bared and bloodied chest, turns for the door.

Their initial trek down the hall doesn’t have anybody to bother them. But it’s when they get to the ground level and find an exit to the outside that they first encounter a witness to their emergence. And that young female student stops with a startled gasp at the sight of the pair, paling like she’s seen two bloody murder victims. Shaw pre-empts her want to shriek by quickly asking her, “We just came out of some auditions… could you tell us where the nearest bathrooms are?” This blood is not real, honest!

The student is thrown off by the query juxtaposed to what she sees, and stammers with a point of her hand, “Th-that way.”

Bobbing his head lightly in thanks, Shaw glances to Isa and steps hurriedly along.

Perhaps later, the student will realize the drama department isn’t anywhere near where she met the blood-covered pair.

"Maybe she's waiting for us with a hot plate of waffles waiting for us." Isa could dream as well and her biggest was to be sitting at a table with the three of them sharing waffles in the sun. It's hard for the woman to not feel guilty wanting that but Isabelle is reminded still of her friends and she smiles faintly towards Shaw not want to purposefully darken his light she leans into him. "Maybe you're right babe. Maybe you're right," the two exit the basement into the hall is uneventful until it isn't and they are encountering a shrieking student.

Alright so they looked horrible.

"Thanks!" Isa calls too cheerfully with a sneer as she follows Shahid towards the bathrooms. "We have clothes," in their packs but they didn't have.. "We need more medical supplies." Isabelle shudders again, "We need a goddamn abandoned medical wing."

Once they reach the restrooms, Shaw has a quick look underneath all the stalls before he moves to lock the door. Nevermind it’s the women’s room, that doesn’t bother him. But what does bother him are their appearances, with the sight of Isa’s drained looking skin most concerning. More concerning than the glowing wound down her face. He fights off the panic urge, largely when she remarks about medical supplies, and nods.

First thing’s first though, he’s turned on the sinks and starts washing his hands to get the blood off. Shaw shivers slightly, not entirely from the cold. “We could check the science buildings too… find someone who can…” Stopping as a thought strikes him, he checks and discovers the pistol still secured in his waistband. Oh. Looking back to Isa, Shaw takes on a serious, determined, resolved expression. Wetting his lips, he then smiles humorlessly. They’re going to survive this world.

Even if they have to break a few laws to do it.

“Once we get cleaned up, it’ll be easier,” he says with a touch of promise to it.


University of Kansas, Dormitory

"You're doing fine."

Isa comments as she tries to stay still, a large plastic bottle of whiskey she found in the dorm room they're currently occupying. After using the bathrooms and showers and making their way into one of the dorms that seemed to not have its occupant around presently, Shahid went with directions from Izzy to the infirmary and however he did it, well they had the supplies.

A sharp hiss as her partner sticks the needle and thread too deeply in what was shaping out to be a mangled and jagged scar. "You'll still love me if I look like Frankenstein?" After he learned all he had about Isabelle's past she felt like sometimes her looks were the last thing keeping him around. It's her insecurities and her shame talking there. "Addie will shriek." There's a heavy swallow of cheap liquor then because who even knows if she'll see her niece again. Or Magnes.. there's a tightening of her grip on the bottle. Isa had to stop that line of thinking and it was evident by the spike of heat in the room and the smell of melting plastic.

"Ah fuck." The scar flaring slightly brighter and she sighs, "Sorry baby." The smoke soon wafts away and Izzy looks down at the almost empty bottle. Well it tasted like shit anyway.

Most likely he’ll have been caught on hidden security cameras. But by the time the university staff finds out, hopefully they will be gone. “Frankenstein was the doctor,” Shaw replies calmly, focused on the sewing job as best he can do. “And the real monster.” He pauses as she warms up, hands lifting away. His back is pasted with multiple butterfly stitches and his burned arm wrapped in gauze, thanks to Isa’s help. Now he looks up from his reciprocal handiwork to the rest of Isa’s face. Leaning in, he touches his free fingers to the bottom of her chin. A smile flits over his features as he follows the fingers with his lips in a light peck. “But of course I will, even when you are old and wrinkled, drunk and sleepy, stinky and clean,…” He trails off as he glances past her to the smattering of opened, empty bandage wrappers and other supplies.

Oh right. There was still stitching to do. Which he starts up again. Just a few left.

“After this, I can get something for us to eat,” he says with a sense of confidence despite their touchy situation and battered shape. They’d already raided the room’s stashes of snacks, but didn’t find any money. “I like chicken,” says Shaw as he finishes another stitch. Chickens were a commodity in the Wasteland. Whether or not they were still, here in this world… That thought interrupts with an abrupt pause. For a yawn.

It follows with a whimper, but not from Shaw. The college student on the floor of the dormitory room shifts uncomfortably from his hogtied and gagged position on the ground, finally having come to from getting knocked out.

"That's right, the monster." Isabelle chuckles and winces slightly again but stays still for the most part. She keeps her face straight but almost falls over at the old and stinky bit. "Well you fucking better cuz I'd do the same thing for you." She can't but laugh a little and lean into the man with a soft sigh, food did sound good. "There has to be chicken and waffles somewhere around here." She was determined now to get to those waffles.

The kicking and screaming of the gagged student makes Isabelle look over and her eyebrows raise while her fingers twitch.

"Hmm… you're awake." Looking over Shahid, "Times up baby, let's get a move on." Leaning in close to give Shahid a kiss before it deepens, did she forget the student…

Shaw would likely have plenty more to say about Frankenstein aka the real monster of that book, but then the wakened student becomes quite agitated. Shaw’s gaze starts to get distracted, too, until Isa turns his attention back to the pyrokinetic. Or, more importantly, her lips fully pressed on his.

The deep embrace stuns the bound student. Lots of staring, lots of blinking. One could imagine the student’s mind racing within their incredulous silence. Are they for real?

He’d almost forget that there’s an audience too, but Shaw can’t forget the very real and still very raw wounds on him beneath the baggy University logo branded hoodie he has on. A sting of pain from the sword slash down his back has him hissing around Isa’s mouth with a sharp breath and tight pause in his posture. He reaches up with his left hand, their engagement ring still encircling his finger, to brush at her hair lightly. “You’re right,” he notes softly. “We could find a nicer place than this. And someone who can fix these stitches.” Shaw is not satisfied with his own job, wanting better for his fiance.

Pushing back and up to a stand, Shaw reaches over to the pluck up the backpack (the student’s) full of their newest possessions: stolen first aid and supplies and clothing he’d taken earlier. After a pause, he drops a pair of scissors from the bed beside the student’s head and bends down to apologize with, “Sorry we had to tie you up. Here’s some scissors though.” They’re the student’s own scissors, but anyway.

Then turning to Isa, Shaw holds out his hand to her and smiles crookedly with a half-step towards the locked dorm room door. “Let’s go.”

January 13, 2019


The Last Inn

The car they stole wasn't hard, it was a beat up old thing that chugged along as they drove it. Isa had turned the vehicle off the ruined highway of the and they now sat in their accommodations for the night. With the war taking just about everything the hospitality industry had to offer, places like this The Last Inn which was owned by an elderly couple that both wield shotguns were around more often than not. The building was small with only ten or so rooms, the bed was comfortable and there didn't happen to be any bugs and that was just fine with Isabelle. They had slept in worse. No TV though.

"Alright, New York then. That's always where the shit goes down." She seems on edge, whether it's her scar that's healing and itching something fierce. Or it's that sign that hangs in the window of the inn. Ordained Priest for weddings! This wasn't how Isa wanted it but well how much more of this could they take?

Scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hands she paces and the warmth in the air spikes and cools to reflect her mood. "Is it just me or is it hot in here?"

Shaw had asked the elderly couple if there were waffles to be had. That probably shifted their questionable story to something far less threatening as a whole, never mind their paler, weaker appearances. They had their powers, sure, but blood loss wasn’t something either of them could readily recoup from. Thankfully, the older couple was accepting of the money the two travelers had to offer too. But alas, there weren’t any waffles to be had, still.

Now, lying on his belly on the mattress with his head resting in the fold of his arm, Shaw tries not to complain about his own wounds. “New York is where it began,” he murmurs into the crook of his elbow. “We should go there. Maybe… maybe we can find our place.” The man held hope still. But it’s Isa’s comment about the temperature that strikes a concern in him. He lifts his head. “Are you hot?” he asks softly, tone puzzled. A pyrokinetic feeling hot was dangerous, or worrying. They both came from a world where the mildest symptoms were a delivery vehicle of death. “Do you have a fever? Maybe a shower would help.” He tries to follow her pacing, trailing along with his dark eyes.

"I miss that old shoebox," the woman comments softly as she continues pacing but Shaw is right it is where it began, there were always answers there. Isa stops when she notices that she's alarmed Shaw and she walks over to crouch down in front of him with a weak smile on her face, "If that's your excuse to get me naked and in the shower again it could work," it still amazes her how connected she felt to him. How sure of herself and of them she was, the brunette hadn't ever had that with a man. Nothing more than fleeting moments that were washed away with the acid tasting moonshine she could brew.

Shaking her head to emphasize, "No I'm fine babe, I promise I just…" There's the tight line of her lips pressed together to focus on before she just blurts it out, "You wanna just say I do now?" The end of the question raising slightly in pitch as the nerves kick up in the pit of her belly, cradling her middle Isa leans forward. "I think we owe it to ourselves. Before we go on, we don't know—" she tries to find words that aren't so.. cliche but it wins out anyway. "We don't know what's going to happen and I don't care what happens to me as long as I'm with you." They had a daughter now to consider, "Forever and shit."

With a tilt of his head and a fainter crooked edge to his smile, Shaw replies, “I wouldn’t mind… but we don’t have enough bandages to wrap up again tonight.” The regret on the latter half of his realization lingers like his dark eyed gaze on her stitched up face where the healing cut glows. He’s caught staring, surprise twitching at his brows, at her nervous words.

Forever and shit.

Understanding dawns quickly, and Shaw pushes up so he can slide himself up to a cross-legged seated position. Still watching Isa, he leans forward to study her anxious manner. She might get further nervous by the long beat of silence that the man sits in.

After, Shaw lifts a hand to hold out to her in invitation for her to take and sit. “If you want to, then I want to, too,” he says softly. “It can be like… Ruiz and Lynette,” he considers, the other couple whose bonds surpassed time itself. “They were together every time and found each other every time. We can do that too. Maybe we already have.” They’d gone through so much already, jumped through world after world, and that bond had only grown stronger with each jump.

There's a piece of Isabelle that fades away in that moment as Shahid studies her and her hazel eyes cloud with an inner feeling she cannot express, drawn by that voice that sounds so familiar.. it's a daydream. She knows it. Release… The voice was small but the weight its words carried bore down on her psyche and it felt like there was something pressing on her shoulders. It's Shahid's words, his voice that pulls her back to the present and she smiles faintly and nods.

"Maybe we already did."

Leaning forward she presses her forehead against his, the warmth of her directly there. Skin to skin, her heartbeat flutters and she stares into his almond shaped eyes. "They'll be mad at us." The others, their family. If anyone else is alive. In this universe even.

Shaw closes his eyes for just a moment as their foreheads touch, and when he opens them again, she might notice the dark gaze is a little shiny with wet. The hitch in his voice is only because of the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and love. “I think Lynette will forgive us,” he muses in a volume just above a whisper. He means the Lynette they met in the Bright future, the one whom their Mateo Ruiz wound up reuniting with and traveling to find Manuel. “But if they’re all really mad? We could do it again.”

Shifting himself into a slight forward lean, he plants a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. A hint, rather, of what else they could be doing despite finally having a chance to rest without an immediate danger. It’s only the uncertainty of the future that lingers around them, but in that moment, the doubt about them washes away.

She doesn't feel the kiss, it's something she just realizes, she's lost feeling in a part of her face, the nerves must have been ruined but she stills feels him, she moves closer and looks even more into his eyes. "I.. Isabelle promise to love, cherish, respect and burn the shit out of anyone who hurts you." Tears well up and the brunette closes her eyes slowly. "I didn't know what love was, didn't know how to stick close to a man before I met you."

What she feels for Shaw transcends proper meaning for Isa, she can't put into words exactly how he makes her feel just that he makes her feel and hard. She never wanted this to end, she's left wondering if this is what was always going to happen, the first time they met each other. "Even if we get a fucked up lemon, we're good."

The dance of light in Shaw's dark eyes glimmers in humor at her vows. He bobs his head in a nod of acceptance, a soft smile twisting up. Her mention of the lemon brings a fresh sheen of wet to his gaze and he leans up against her, taking a moment to breathe in and out, long and slow. He slips his hands around Isa's, his fingers intertwining around hers. The next words come out softly as well, where she'd heard him murmur things in his sleep before in a different tongue, this time it sounds more deliberately quoted when he speaks.

"Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi… I have become you, and you have become me,
mun tun shudam tu jaan shudi… I am the body and you, the soul;
Taakas na guyad baad azeen… So that no one can say hereafter,
mun deegaram tu deegari… that you are someone, and I, someone else."

This close, Shaw has but to lean forward and find a different spot where she can feel him press his face to hers. The tip of his nose draws a little heart motion. He smiles against her unscarred cheek. "I love you, Eanqa'."

Her back stiffens and then relaxed as if she melts when he switches to his native tongue, she loved it when he did that and now she could always love it when he did that. A warm feeling envelopes them both and it's noteworthy for the balminess and humid way it sticks in the room, smoke sizzles upwards as her tears fall to her cheek and she throws her arms around Shaw's shoulders sending them toppling over. Eyes racing over him, she's studied every scar, every bit of him but she looks at him differently now, pressing her hand against his heart Isa's heat radiaties.

"I love you Shahid."

Candles in the room light after a subtle glance from the brunette flames dance and reflect in her eyes and she smiles slowly turning her gaze back to the real prize in front of her. Tendrils of hair tickle his face as she leans in to kiss him fully.

A soft grunt of surprise escapes Shaw as he’s toppled back, and an eye squints with the short twinge of pain from the cut on his back, but it’s soon replaced with a crooked smile. He glances over at the candles that light, but then it’s back to Isa just as she kisses him.

A hand reaches up, brushing part of her hair aside, and then curls around the back of her neck to keep her close. Hopefully for forever, but at least for the night.

The next morning, around 4 A.M.

Off US Hwy 40, Kansas City

Roadside Waffle House

Screams and panicked squeals of customers fill the air as they flee in directionless retreat away from the jets of flame that shoot up and out of shattered windows. Smoke billows up from where the flames caught some kind of accelerant in the greasy plastics making up the office ceiling-like tile. Inside, within the chaos of flames and screaming is one man still within the establishment, working behind the counter. Rather, Shaw has grabbed what appears to be an industrial size bucket of waffle batter. The bucket’s heavy though, forcing him to strain on picking up the heavy plastic container and ultimately deciding to roll the item along the floor back to the woman on fire creating the distraction.

He stops shy of the flames, blinks at their brightness, and pulls out the waffle stuck in his mouth. “Do you want anything else? We should go soon.” Someone is bound to call in the bizarre robbery, though around here it will be several minutes before authorities are on their way.

The roar of flames is cut short as Shaw comes up behind his lady and she flashes a rogue smile over her shoulder to him. "Gimmie some of that," Reaching to tear a piece of the waffle off and pop it into her mouth, salivating with the taste. "If this were medieval times I would suggest we conquer all of the waffle houses in the country, rule the waffles." In a silly tone, was it a great idea to be throwing fire and robbing a waffle house in a foreign world?

Probably not.

But Shahid was hungry and he had a hunger for something that the couple had been on pursuit of for years. "Don't forget their syrup!" Twisting her fingers in a intricate manner that results in twin jets of flame to erupt from her pinkies, Isa had been finding it easier to focus her gift through her hands and movements. A nearby woman screams in horror and she grins not looking at Shahid anymore. At this rate you would think Isabelle had done enough but, she doesn't stop.

It's a swift, subtle but noticeable shift in her expression as she tilts her head, hazel eyes narrowing as she directs the jet of flame to a nearby booth where the party's food had just arrived moments before the Bonnie and Clyde duo stormed in. Orange flames spiral towards the furniture and now spreads to the next booth. There's a look of satisfaction on Isabelle's face but the plan was to not burn the place down but to shoot out multiple flames out of the windows. Something's happened.


Isabelle grins darkly.

Shaw bobs his head, relinquishing the waffle to his (technically still unofficial) wife. The reminder of the syrup spurs him to turn towards the nearest table with eager fingers reaching for the sweet sugary condiment, but the scream of another woman interrupts his syrup-snatching. “Wha- h-hey! Eanqa’, wait! Don’t…”

The flames engulf the nearby booths, scattering the remaining innocents away from the intense heat. Plastic covers and menus burn and shrivel, laminate plywood table tops bubble and singe, and the referenced bottles of syrup melt in place as their sugary contents caramelize then char. And everything above is covered in smoke.

“Eanqa’! IZZY!” Shaw coughs out. He might be the only one left, the only one who hasn’t run for the hills. His eyes water in the face of the smoke and the sweat on his brow isn’t from nervousness. He can already feel the bandage on his burned arm itching, nerves stinging. But finally he shakes his anxiety off and reaches out to drape himself over Isa from behind in a tight embrace even if it risks him getting burned again. “You must stop, my love,” he whispers hoarsely into her ear. “The fire does not control you.”

Fire reflects in her eyes as she funnels her anger into the blaze with apparent glee. It takes her and Izzy feels herself giving into the flames, the heat, the pain she feels right there where her heart should be (is?). Flames shoot out from her hands and a mid sized fireball hovers in the air over her outstretched hand the thing pulsating and smoking lightly.

Release… Release… Release! ! ! !

The roar of the flames isn't just loud to her ears it's loud in her mind and the screams of her mother, of those children, of everyone she had hurt. For some reason, she didn't mind it right then and there. She burned hot, incendiary. People knew what they were getting into with her. Shahid did. Shahid alway-

There's a feeling of arms around her and the hoarse whisper of her unofficial husband fills her ears, drowning out the flames. The screams that aren't really there. A blink of her eyes and then she's rearing back while leaning into Shaw's embrace. Luckily the flames at her hands don't burn him and instead she drags them close to her chest and tightens her palms into fist. Smoke wafts up from the exposed skin and Isa pulls hard at the strings of energy that power the flames that she had created. In a plume of smoke they go out, one by one until it's only smoke and blackened, ruined furniture in the space.

The pyrokinetic stays there wrapping in Shaw as she tries to catch herself. "I-I'm sorry."

She doesn’t need to catch herself alone. Behind her, Shaw holds on, wrapped around with face pressed against hers where the scar glows. Standing there until the smoke clears a bit around them, he stays silent with just the drumming of their hearts beating - his rapidfire, but slowing as the minutes pass.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, eventually, as the fires settle beneath her invisible tug. “It’s okay.” The clearing smoke drifts out of the bursted windows, giving Shaw a little more view of the orange embers glowing along with the glimmering stars outside of the waffle house. “Are you okay?” He gently pulls back to turn her around, fingers curled around both arms as his head ducks, dark eyes in search of hers.

Izzy's lips move but no sound leave them, her eyes transfixed on the lone flame that flickers in front of her. Curling the edges of a poster plastered on the wall of a deluxe waffle special. She half wishes they had just sat down and dine and ditched. Too late for that though. She sealed her fate their fate. It's fine.

"It's fine." She says weakly against his dark hair, "Baby it's fine."

“It is, it’s fine,” echoes Shaw as he runs his slightly singed fingers through her hair in comforting, calming contact. Once the man has grown accustomed to his still quick-beating heart, he manages a smile at the woman. “Hey. We are okay, Eanqa’, you just got a little excited…” The distant wail of sirens brings a brief interruption in his thoughts, also bringing by the sudden awareness of their isolated surroundings. Shaw frowns, whatever comforts he had started to say, dashed away by the immediate need for retreat.

Reaching for Isa’s hand, he nevertheless gives it a slow, light, reassuring rub, his fingers rubbing at hers which bears her half of their marriage set. “We better go, meri jaan.”

January 19, 2019

Kansas City Police Precinct

"…larceny.. grand theft auto… kidnapping… ten cases of arson… petty theft… trespassing… assault… impersonating an officer of the law?!" The public attorney that was called down to assist in the case of a new "Bonnie and Clyde" looks exasperated between the couple sitting in front of him in handcuffs.

Isabelle to her credit just shrugs, "We had a good run don't ya say?" She's negated. They both were. "Listen we won't be here long we just need to find.." looking over to Shahid, how do they explain this situation. "Someone. Then we can go on and be about our business and out of your hair." This is how Magnes handles it right? Totally. What Would Liz Do? "The shitstorm we got going, I'm telling ya. You don't wanna know." Sucking her teeth she closes her eyes. Shit.

The lawyer, an old man with a kind face looks at Izzy over the rim of his glasses, Henry Lowrey. His dark skin was smooth, there were some wrinkles around his eyes but the phrase black don't crack seems to apply here because the gray and grizzled nature of his hair tell that he is older than his face and body would lead you to believe. "We can plea temporary insanity."

Maybe not temporary.

Definitely, maybe.

“A few of those weren’t hers,” Shaw pipes up from his cold metal chair, shoulders shifting as he tries to find a better sitting position. Handcuffs were usually uncomfortable… when applied outside of a bedroom. As one who had impersonated an office of the law would know. “Maybe we should have tried the priest,” the man follows his thought, once again humming a couple of bars of the song from Sweeney Todd as he remembers that fateful day they’d landed in this timeline. It was an excuse that worked at the time.

With regards to the temporary insanity plea, Shaw turns to the pyrokinetic seated beside him. She’s too far for a shoulder bump, too close to be considered anything but a couple. Shaw bobs his head side to side, still fidgeting. “I’m not sure we should say that,” he speaks his opinion on it. “We didn’t mean any harm. And the assault charge is a lie, self-defense is what it was. He was an asshole.” Strong words from Shaw, growled under his breath with a sidelong glance past the public defender to the one-way window.

His shoulders hunch, and Shaw blows out a breath from puffed lips, a twinge of boredom tweaking in his posture. Then with a glance back to Henry Lowrey, he asks, hope springing up as a thought strikes. “Do we get a phone call? They’re supposed to let us call. Right?”

Several Hours Later


Namiko runs into the room, around the table and straight into Isa. She pulls Shaw into a hug, too, hanging onto the two of them for a long moment. It might take a few moments to realize that two other people entered with her, official looking people with badges and IDs that look very serious. The SESA agents stop just inside the door, waiting until Namiko gets her greeting out.

"I was worried," she says as she straightens up. "Don't worry. These guys are clearing everything up. There's gonna be a lot of paperwork and signing things and all that, but after that, we can all go home."

Because there is a home, just waiting for them.

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