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dixiehellcat) wrote2011-09-11 12:19 am
dixiehellcat) wrote2011-09-11 12:19 am
That Which Lies Hidden, a Ghost Adventures fic, 7/?
Okay, I give up on estimating the total number of chapters. Not that the story is going to go on forever, but I was going to end Hidden after chapter 13 and start a sequel; but various dA deviants have persuaded me to just continue this epic. lol. So y'all are stuck with it for a while longer. The title fits with future plans well, anyway. 20-something chapters in all, I expect.
Anyway, as you may recall, chapter 6 ended after the exorcism, as Claire is about to explain herself and recent events to Zak. Not a lot of action in this chapter, sorry to say, but we do hear Zak's side of things for the first time, and he & Claire get on the same page and clear some issues up. :-)
Rated R-ish for language and such. As always, a tip of the hat to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx of deviantart's GAC comm for permission to play with her idea.
7 "I guess it started the day Nick called you a few weeks ago," I began. "How much did you know of what was going on, in the world?"
"Enough," Zak said. "Sometimes the demon kept me in the dark, but a lot of times—like I said, it seemed to want to show off, so it'd put me where I could see and hear but couldn't do anything. It felt like--none of it was material, of course, but your brain has to have something concrete to hold onto, I guess, so it felt like I was in a glass coffin. I screamed and banged on it till my hands were bloody. And once I was too worn out to fight anymore, it would let me out, especially if it had to interact with anybody I'd known before. That was its way to keep its cover, I think. I couldn't get too far, it kept me on a real short leash, and if I tried to say or do anything it…well, choked me till I blacked out, and woke up back in the dark."
"What was the dark like?" I asked, half afraid of the answer.
Zak gave a small laugh. "It's funny, in a sick way, but I saw it as a place we did a lockdown once, the old Ohio State Reformatory. It's a—"
"Cold, gray, decaying place," I burst out. "I dreamed about it. I dreamed about you there, chained in a cell…"
Shock flitted across his face. "I saw you," he breathed. "I thought I'd finally gone mad. How—Are you psychic? 'Cause I love you, sweetie, but I'm not sure how I feel about you reading my mind."
"Don't worry." I clasped his hands in mine. "I'm not any kind of psychic. Nick said you're really sensitive to energies though, and I think I was just so focused on wishing I could let you know you weren't alone, that we connected."
Zak relaxed and smiled that crooked half-smile I was quickly coming to love. "Anyway, when Nick called it shoved me out there to talk to him. It kept—whispering in my ear, like—reminding me this was all my fault. It always said that; that if I hadn't opened the door, it couldn't have gotten in. And if I said anything it would track Nick down and—" He shuddered. "How is he?" I explained about Nick's ankle. He winced. "And Aaron?"
I shook my head. "You know he moved away. Nick's been trying to find him, but no luck yet. He broke some ribs in that lockdown, and one punctured a lung. It was touch and go for a while, apparently, but Nick says when he last saw Aaron, he was fine."
For a long moment, Zak was silent, his face still. "They must fuckin' hate me," he said finally.
"I can't say anything for Aaron, but as for Nick, when I first met him he was more—confused, and sad, than anything. Trying to figure out what went wrong, what made you snap, whether it was his doing somehow. Then once we put together what had happened, hate was the last thing he felt for you."
"Okay, but how'd you find him? And how'd you know what happened to me?"
"Stole his number off your phone and called him." That made him chuckle. "As we talked, we realized we couldn't be talking about the same person. Then he found a camera that had survived the lockdown with its memory intact--he has a storage unit with all your old gear in it. We took it to your friend Billy—"
"Billy! He's doing okay?"
"Yeah, fine. The three of us went over the footage—it was that upstairs room you were locked down in. So we saw everything. After that, I knew you'd been possessed, and I was pretty sure it was holding you prisoner."
"Everything? You mean we have evidence?" Zak's eyes glittered with excitement as I described the footage. Only he could be that thrilled about video showing the start of his own nightmare.
"It caught the whole time you were in that room, including the sigils you posted on the wall, the ones from the mass murder case?" Reluctantly I let go of his hands long enough to grab my bag and bring it over to the bed. The talk of the footage reminded me that the little old camera was still busily filming on the bureau; I made a mental note as I reseated myself to get it after we finished comparing notes. If video of the possession excited Zak, video of the exorcism should make him turn back flips. "They're a summoning for a lesser demon. When you put them back up you activated the ritual. Whether the same demon responsible for the deaths in the 50s answered or not, who can say, but…" I trailed off as the light in Zak's eyes failed and his shoulders slumped. "Zak? Are you all right?"
He stared at the paper I held. "So the damned demon was right about one thing, then," he said, all animation gone from his voice. "It really was my fault. If I had researched, or gotten somebody else to, if I hadn't been so fuckin' gung ho to use them as a trigger, none of this would've happened."
I groaned loudly. "No wonder you and Nick are so tight—you're entirely too much alike in some ways. Let me rewind the same talk I gave him." I took Zak's hands in mine again, and shook them for emphasis. "The police had these markings on file for what, sixty years, and couldn't identify them? Trust me, only a trained demon hunter would know exactly what they were and what they could do, and you, darlin', did not have access to one. So—look at me, Zak—" I really shouldn't have said that, because his eyes connecting with mine didn't help my focus any. In actuality, they didn't do anything but turn my innards to girl goo. Nonetheless, I soldiered on. "Repeat after me: NOT MY FAULT."
"Not my fault," he said softly, after a long moment.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud. Say it like you mean it. Say it like you believe it! I do! It's not your fuckin' fault!"
"It's not my fuckin' fault!" This time the words came more easily. Zak sat up straighter, and the half-smile crept back. "It's not, is it? But how'd you know what the symbols meant, then?"
Damn, it was time to come clean. I briefly explained about my uncle, and the old friend who had taught me the exorcism. Zak gaped. "You'd never done that before? Shit, woman!"
"Yeah. Sorry to use you as a practice case." I squeezed his hands, and looked away. "If I'd known more, I might have recognized the signs of possession sooner, instead of just thinking I'm good at picking lousy boyfriends." My throat closed. "All these months I left you suffering, all alone…I'm sorry, Zak, I'm so sorry…"
When the tears broke through, Zak pulled me into his arms. "Oh damn, sweetheart, don't. I'm no good dealing with female stuff. It makes me all nervous and shit." He held me close with one arm while he slid out of his dress shirt. "I hate these damn things," he growled, and used it to dry my eyes. "Your turn. Repeat after me: NOT MY FAULT. Or, if you prefer the R-rated version like I do, not my FUCKIN' fault."
How could he make me laugh even when my heart was aching? "Not my fuckin' fault," I repeated obediently and managed a smile.
"Damn right it's not," he said with feeling and drew me back into his embrace.
Under the shirt he wore a tank undershirt, and I rested my wet cheek against his bare shoulder for the first time with wonderful contentment. Then I noticed something I'd never seen before. "Hey! Your tattoos. The demon kept them covered all the time. Let's see 'em." I slid off his shoulder and turned my head to admire the big Celtic cross there.
"That one's part of our old GAC logo," Zak explained. "And this one—" he showed a smaller one on his right wrist—"was during my Dracula period."
"And the big one on the back? I only know it's there from this.' I touched two tiny dark lines at the nape of his neck, and he almost squeaked. I filed that info away for future reference.
"That one should have been a reminder to me to be more careful." Zak peeled off the undershirt. I scooted around and gasped at the half angel, half devil on his upper back. "I got attacked in Italy on an investigation. I felt like I was being pulled two ways, so the tat was for that. As it turns out, actual demon possession didn't feel so much like that, as it did being kidnapped and beaten into submission."
His matter-of-fact tone gave all the more emphasis to the things he wasn't saying; the terrible things, I suspected, he hoped I had not seen in my dreams. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. "Don't be afraid," I whispered into his ear. "It's never gonna happen again. I won't let it." His soft chuckle rumbled through my body, pressed against his. "Here's one thing to prove it." I pulled back, took off my talisman and hung it around his neck, then slid back to face him and explained its meaning while digging through my bag for the other and putting it on. "Sam sent me the design and I made them."
"Nice." Zak admired it. "It'd make a cool tat. Maybe my other shoulder." Then he gave me a little glare. "So, what else did this Sam give you?"
"What, are you jealous?" I snickered. "Sam's great. He's like a brainy little brother. I hope you get to meet him and his brother sometime. You'd like them." I clambered off the bed to retrieve the devil's traps and show him.
"You had all the bases covered," he marveled. "Makes me feel like a fifth wheel. When you started the chant you distracted it, and it couldn't hold me down like it usually did; I could break through, but I don't know that I was much help."
"Oh yes, you were. Uncle Bobby said it could only handle one foe at a time, so two was too much for it. Made things much easier. And for me…just knowing you were there fighting it, and knowing that you knew I was here…I wasn't going to give up till you were free."
"Thank God. It's good to know I helped, though. I'm not cut out to be the damsel in distress. But you do make an amazing knight in…pink satin? That can't be standard uniform for exorcisms."
"I had to do something to keep its attention. Making it think it was going to get seriously laid worked. Although, you know how everybody talks like demons are so great in bed? Lies! I've nearly worn out a vibrator having to go home and take care of business myself after it got its rocks off—" I caught myself. "Oh gosh, Zak, I'm sorry, TMI."
He looked quietly appalled. "I feel like I should apologize for the misuse of my parts," he said.
"No more your fault than somebody stealing your car and having a wreck."
"Doesn't matter. This is an affront to my male ego, and It's gonna take a lot of work to correct it." He put his hands on my hips. "I'd like to start working on that right now, if you're available."
I caught my breath. "Totally available," I returned.
(So, if you've seen the Mansfield Ohio Reformatory ep, you now know exactly what place was in my head when I wrote Claire's dream sequences.)
Anyway, as you may recall, chapter 6 ended after the exorcism, as Claire is about to explain herself and recent events to Zak. Not a lot of action in this chapter, sorry to say, but we do hear Zak's side of things for the first time, and he & Claire get on the same page and clear some issues up. :-)
Rated R-ish for language and such. As always, a tip of the hat to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx of deviantart's GAC comm for permission to play with her idea.
7 "I guess it started the day Nick called you a few weeks ago," I began. "How much did you know of what was going on, in the world?"
"Enough," Zak said. "Sometimes the demon kept me in the dark, but a lot of times—like I said, it seemed to want to show off, so it'd put me where I could see and hear but couldn't do anything. It felt like--none of it was material, of course, but your brain has to have something concrete to hold onto, I guess, so it felt like I was in a glass coffin. I screamed and banged on it till my hands were bloody. And once I was too worn out to fight anymore, it would let me out, especially if it had to interact with anybody I'd known before. That was its way to keep its cover, I think. I couldn't get too far, it kept me on a real short leash, and if I tried to say or do anything it…well, choked me till I blacked out, and woke up back in the dark."
"What was the dark like?" I asked, half afraid of the answer.
Zak gave a small laugh. "It's funny, in a sick way, but I saw it as a place we did a lockdown once, the old Ohio State Reformatory. It's a—"
"Cold, gray, decaying place," I burst out. "I dreamed about it. I dreamed about you there, chained in a cell…"
Shock flitted across his face. "I saw you," he breathed. "I thought I'd finally gone mad. How—Are you psychic? 'Cause I love you, sweetie, but I'm not sure how I feel about you reading my mind."
"Don't worry." I clasped his hands in mine. "I'm not any kind of psychic. Nick said you're really sensitive to energies though, and I think I was just so focused on wishing I could let you know you weren't alone, that we connected."
Zak relaxed and smiled that crooked half-smile I was quickly coming to love. "Anyway, when Nick called it shoved me out there to talk to him. It kept—whispering in my ear, like—reminding me this was all my fault. It always said that; that if I hadn't opened the door, it couldn't have gotten in. And if I said anything it would track Nick down and—" He shuddered. "How is he?" I explained about Nick's ankle. He winced. "And Aaron?"
I shook my head. "You know he moved away. Nick's been trying to find him, but no luck yet. He broke some ribs in that lockdown, and one punctured a lung. It was touch and go for a while, apparently, but Nick says when he last saw Aaron, he was fine."
For a long moment, Zak was silent, his face still. "They must fuckin' hate me," he said finally.
"I can't say anything for Aaron, but as for Nick, when I first met him he was more—confused, and sad, than anything. Trying to figure out what went wrong, what made you snap, whether it was his doing somehow. Then once we put together what had happened, hate was the last thing he felt for you."
"Okay, but how'd you find him? And how'd you know what happened to me?"
"Stole his number off your phone and called him." That made him chuckle. "As we talked, we realized we couldn't be talking about the same person. Then he found a camera that had survived the lockdown with its memory intact--he has a storage unit with all your old gear in it. We took it to your friend Billy—"
"Billy! He's doing okay?"
"Yeah, fine. The three of us went over the footage—it was that upstairs room you were locked down in. So we saw everything. After that, I knew you'd been possessed, and I was pretty sure it was holding you prisoner."
"Everything? You mean we have evidence?" Zak's eyes glittered with excitement as I described the footage. Only he could be that thrilled about video showing the start of his own nightmare.
"It caught the whole time you were in that room, including the sigils you posted on the wall, the ones from the mass murder case?" Reluctantly I let go of his hands long enough to grab my bag and bring it over to the bed. The talk of the footage reminded me that the little old camera was still busily filming on the bureau; I made a mental note as I reseated myself to get it after we finished comparing notes. If video of the possession excited Zak, video of the exorcism should make him turn back flips. "They're a summoning for a lesser demon. When you put them back up you activated the ritual. Whether the same demon responsible for the deaths in the 50s answered or not, who can say, but…" I trailed off as the light in Zak's eyes failed and his shoulders slumped. "Zak? Are you all right?"
He stared at the paper I held. "So the damned demon was right about one thing, then," he said, all animation gone from his voice. "It really was my fault. If I had researched, or gotten somebody else to, if I hadn't been so fuckin' gung ho to use them as a trigger, none of this would've happened."
I groaned loudly. "No wonder you and Nick are so tight—you're entirely too much alike in some ways. Let me rewind the same talk I gave him." I took Zak's hands in mine again, and shook them for emphasis. "The police had these markings on file for what, sixty years, and couldn't identify them? Trust me, only a trained demon hunter would know exactly what they were and what they could do, and you, darlin', did not have access to one. So—look at me, Zak—" I really shouldn't have said that, because his eyes connecting with mine didn't help my focus any. In actuality, they didn't do anything but turn my innards to girl goo. Nonetheless, I soldiered on. "Repeat after me: NOT MY FAULT."
"Not my fault," he said softly, after a long moment.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud. Say it like you mean it. Say it like you believe it! I do! It's not your fuckin' fault!"
"It's not my fuckin' fault!" This time the words came more easily. Zak sat up straighter, and the half-smile crept back. "It's not, is it? But how'd you know what the symbols meant, then?"
Damn, it was time to come clean. I briefly explained about my uncle, and the old friend who had taught me the exorcism. Zak gaped. "You'd never done that before? Shit, woman!"
"Yeah. Sorry to use you as a practice case." I squeezed his hands, and looked away. "If I'd known more, I might have recognized the signs of possession sooner, instead of just thinking I'm good at picking lousy boyfriends." My throat closed. "All these months I left you suffering, all alone…I'm sorry, Zak, I'm so sorry…"
When the tears broke through, Zak pulled me into his arms. "Oh damn, sweetheart, don't. I'm no good dealing with female stuff. It makes me all nervous and shit." He held me close with one arm while he slid out of his dress shirt. "I hate these damn things," he growled, and used it to dry my eyes. "Your turn. Repeat after me: NOT MY FAULT. Or, if you prefer the R-rated version like I do, not my FUCKIN' fault."
How could he make me laugh even when my heart was aching? "Not my fuckin' fault," I repeated obediently and managed a smile.
"Damn right it's not," he said with feeling and drew me back into his embrace.
Under the shirt he wore a tank undershirt, and I rested my wet cheek against his bare shoulder for the first time with wonderful contentment. Then I noticed something I'd never seen before. "Hey! Your tattoos. The demon kept them covered all the time. Let's see 'em." I slid off his shoulder and turned my head to admire the big Celtic cross there.
"That one's part of our old GAC logo," Zak explained. "And this one—" he showed a smaller one on his right wrist—"was during my Dracula period."
"And the big one on the back? I only know it's there from this.' I touched two tiny dark lines at the nape of his neck, and he almost squeaked. I filed that info away for future reference.
"That one should have been a reminder to me to be more careful." Zak peeled off the undershirt. I scooted around and gasped at the half angel, half devil on his upper back. "I got attacked in Italy on an investigation. I felt like I was being pulled two ways, so the tat was for that. As it turns out, actual demon possession didn't feel so much like that, as it did being kidnapped and beaten into submission."
His matter-of-fact tone gave all the more emphasis to the things he wasn't saying; the terrible things, I suspected, he hoped I had not seen in my dreams. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. "Don't be afraid," I whispered into his ear. "It's never gonna happen again. I won't let it." His soft chuckle rumbled through my body, pressed against his. "Here's one thing to prove it." I pulled back, took off my talisman and hung it around his neck, then slid back to face him and explained its meaning while digging through my bag for the other and putting it on. "Sam sent me the design and I made them."
"Nice." Zak admired it. "It'd make a cool tat. Maybe my other shoulder." Then he gave me a little glare. "So, what else did this Sam give you?"
"What, are you jealous?" I snickered. "Sam's great. He's like a brainy little brother. I hope you get to meet him and his brother sometime. You'd like them." I clambered off the bed to retrieve the devil's traps and show him.
"You had all the bases covered," he marveled. "Makes me feel like a fifth wheel. When you started the chant you distracted it, and it couldn't hold me down like it usually did; I could break through, but I don't know that I was much help."
"Oh yes, you were. Uncle Bobby said it could only handle one foe at a time, so two was too much for it. Made things much easier. And for me…just knowing you were there fighting it, and knowing that you knew I was here…I wasn't going to give up till you were free."
"Thank God. It's good to know I helped, though. I'm not cut out to be the damsel in distress. But you do make an amazing knight in…pink satin? That can't be standard uniform for exorcisms."
"I had to do something to keep its attention. Making it think it was going to get seriously laid worked. Although, you know how everybody talks like demons are so great in bed? Lies! I've nearly worn out a vibrator having to go home and take care of business myself after it got its rocks off—" I caught myself. "Oh gosh, Zak, I'm sorry, TMI."
He looked quietly appalled. "I feel like I should apologize for the misuse of my parts," he said.
"No more your fault than somebody stealing your car and having a wreck."
"Doesn't matter. This is an affront to my male ego, and It's gonna take a lot of work to correct it." He put his hands on my hips. "I'd like to start working on that right now, if you're available."
I caught my breath. "Totally available," I returned.
(So, if you've seen the Mansfield Ohio Reformatory ep, you now know exactly what place was in my head when I wrote Claire's dream sequences.)