Chapter Text
Becky Barnes had spent most of her life believing three things:
One, that Stanley had the power. Two, that she was weak. And three, that she still loved Tom Houston.
She clung to those three things every day for fifteen years. Those three things that she could never forget. Those three things that haunted her every waking moment, even though Tom Houston was a thing of the past. Because she yearned for a completely different life. Because hope was not to be had when her husband raised his fist. And daydreaming was her only escape from his torment.
That was of course, until a week after Tom's wife died.
She wanted to go to the funeral. Not to win him back, but to be his friend, just like they were as children. Not to remind him of their past life, but to hold him in her arms... even if it was only platonically. Because nothing was worse than never seeing him again.
Her friend needed comfort. Her friend needed hope. And though years had passed, who could keep them apart? Other than the fate of the last fifteen years, which Becky was no stranger to.
Neither was Tom.
Because in that time he was away from her after he returned home from combat, Tom Houston also knew three things:
One, that he loved Jane. Two, that he loved his son. And three, that he would always love Becky Barnes too.
Deep down she had her reasons for attending, but she assumed Tom would never feel the same. How could he? He spent so long away. He lived a life he wanted. He had a son. And who was she to assume he'd love her again?
Becky decided to go to the funeral because she had nothing to lose.
She had already lost everything.
But Stanley wouldn't let her go... and that was when the fire inside of her ignited again.
Who was he to keep them apart? Who was he to control her decisions? Who was he to say no? As if she was being woken up to truth for the very first time, Becky realized that there were three things she no longer believed:
One, that Stanley had the power. Two, that she was weak. And three, that she would ever stop fighting for Tom Houston.
She realized that she was the one who had given Stanley the power. He was the one who unwillingly made her weak. And he was the one who convinced her Tom would never love her back again.
The power had never been snuffed out of her, but merely ripped from her grasp.
Stolen.
So, that night, she took it back.
She fought back.
After all, he was the one who chased her into the woods.
After all, he was the one who made her go to nursing school.
After all, he was the one who had brought the knife.
It had been almost two years since then.
Becky never found a body in the dark of Witchwood Forest where she left Stanley, but he never came crawling back either.
She'd like it to stay that way.
Now she was with Tom, Tom was with her, and they were together.
They were finally a family.
Tom didn't realize just how much he still loved Becky until he saw her that night. Until they stood face to face, and neither held an expectation of the future. They just... held each other.
She looked just the same as he remembered too.
And soon, the broken two became three. Becky, Tom, and Tim. Never to be split up again.
Becky Barnes now knew three things:
One, that she was not weak. Two, that she would always love Tom Houston. And three, that they never found Stanley's body.
"Fucking hell!"
The sound of Tom's voice broke her from her thoughts, pulling her back into reality.
She was sitting in the rocking chair he had built for her, in the corner of their daughter's nursery. She blinked her dreary eyes open, quickly noticing that Tom had not moved from his previous position. He was still directly across from her, struggling to put the crib together.
She let out a breath, the room coming into focus as she remembered where she was.
She was safe. She was home. She was with Tom.
Repeating things in three's was something she's always done to ground herself, and those three looped the most often. She had to name something she could see, something she could hear, and something she could touch. It reminded her of her place in the world.
And her place in the world was here.
She was safe. She was home. She was with Tom... and Tom was struggling to build their daughters crib.
"Are you sure you don't want me to help you?"
He was adamant he could do it on his own, but had been at it for hours now. Not even counting the unknown amount of time she had spent wrapped up in her mind.
Just by his fiancé's tone, Tom knew that she saw his frustration with the thing. It didn't help his case that Ethan had also offered to build it... and he most likely would've had it done already.
It made him want to scream.
He was a woodworker for god sakes, and he taught shop to high schoolers for a living. Not to mention, he served two tours in Iraq.
And yet he couldn’t put a stupid crib together.
He sighed, internally cursing himself for not having just called Ethan in the first place. He'd like to blame Ikea for their bullshit instruction manuals. Christ, he should've just built a crib himself.
It definitely wasn’t this hard when Jane was pregnant with Tim.
As he leaned back to stare at the godforsaken object, he realized just how wounded his ego was... and the palm of his hand from pressing so hard into the screwdriver for so long.
“Beck I told you. You’re not lifting a finger.” He knew Becky could help, but he didn't want to run the risk of her stressing herself out too much. She was working full time while growing a human, and to him that was enough effort for a lifetime.
She rolled her eyes with a huff, trying to stop herself from feeling absolutely useless. “I’m pregnant Tom. Not incapable.”
Tom let out a shard breath, but kept his focus on the piece he was trying to attach.
She was right.
She was more than capable. Probably more than him at this point. But still, he wanted her to relax. “You know that’s not what I was getting at. I just don’t want you worrying about anything. This thing is a fucking pain in the ass.”
Becky smiled, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees. “Would it be easier if I helped?”
He turned his head to her, a soft smile rounding on his tight lower lip. “Like I said before. You should be resting, and not worrying about a thing, ok?”
“Ok.” She sighed, leaning back into the soft fabric of the rocking chair.
She couldn't stop herself from thinking of Stanley. His name left a bitter taste in her mouth, a tortured place in her mind. They never found his body... but he never came back. She had to remind herself of that.
He couldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt Tim. He couldn't hurt her daughter. She focused her thoughts. She was safe, she was home, and she hadn't seen Stanley in almost two years.
She felt the arms of the rocking chair underneath her hands, and breathed out. Tom had built it a few weeks ago, and It was the most comfortable thing she’d ever sat in. It made her wonder why he didn't just build a crib... she figured he was thinking the same thing too.
He didn’t save much from when Tim was a baby, having donated almost all of it after Jane passed. So for the most part they were starting over. Not to mention there wasn't much they could reuse anyway, as they were having a girl. But despite her fears, Becky knew Tom was the perfect person to start over with.
She felt herself relax in the cushions, trying to force herself to stay awake. She was working the night shift and had to leave in a few hours. If she fell asleep now, she probably wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.
She came back to the present, the cheery hum in her voice returning. “Can we at least talk names?”
Tom nodded his head, his body turning to the side as he examined another piece of the crib, trying to figure out where it belonged. “Sure. shoot.”
“What about Marie?”
His eyes wandered for a second before he turned his attention back to the crib. “Like your mom?” He asked softly. Becky nodded, slightly worried about Tom’s coming answer. He had disliked all of the names they had talked about before... quite passionately at that.
"First or middle?"
“Middle?" She asked warily, expecting him to immediately shoot it down. But instead, she watched him think it through, almost as if he was seeing how it fit on his tongue. As if he was getting ready to say yes. After all, it was her mom's name... how could he say no?
He smiled. "I love it Beck. I’m sure your mom would’ve loved it too.”
She breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Tom liked the name.
And they had finally agreed.
Becky repeated three more things:
One, she loved Tom. Two, Tom loved her. And three, their daughter had a middle name.
Marie always liked Tom.
She often questioned why Becky didn’t wait a little longer… why she didn’t hold out for Tom to get back. She assumed her mom had been secretly rooting for them this entire time.
And maybe she was.
Maybe she was the force that pulled them back together.
She would’ve been so proud to see her today. To see her away from him.
God, Marie hated Stanley.
And Becky hated it even more that she didn’t get to see her break free from his grasp.
“So… the middle name is settled. How about a first?”
Tom then dropped a leg of the crib that he was holding, and a pile of pieces scrambled everywhere. He groaned, raising his arms up in frustration. Becky immediately got up from the chair and came over to help him.
“Thanks babe.” He said, sighing again.
But instead of returning to her seat, she crouched beside him, admiring his hard work. Even though he was nowhere near done, or satisfied with what he had done for that matter, it still looked good.
“God, I don’t remember it being this hard when Jane was pregnant with Tim. I don’t remember it being this hard naming Tim either .”
“I never asked you about that.” Becky replied. “How did you come up with Tim’s name?”
When it came to Jane, she never pried. Just like Tom with Stanley. They treaded lightly with each other, letting the other open up whenever they were ready.
It was easy.
Their love was easy.
Becky repeated three more things:
One, loving Tom was like breathing. Two, she could always trust him. And three, their daughter still needed a first name.
“Jane’s dad.” Tom smiled sadly, the curl on his lips turning downwards and becoming sour.
He didn’t know Jane’s parents.
They had died years before they even started dating.
But in some ways, he felt like he had spent his entire life with them. Jane talked about them so much …when she was still alive. She showered Tim with every detail. With how much they loved her, and would’ve loved him.
Yet her counterpart, her older sister Emma, rarely brought them up at all. Even now, almost two years since Jane herself passed, Emma didn't like talking about her either. “That was his name.”
“Well that’s sweet.” Becky whispered, that beautiful smile Tom loved so much creeping back to her lips.
He then felt that familiar pull in his heart as he traced her face, desperately wanting to kiss her.
He wondered why he had let her go… how.
And why he let her stay with a man like Stanley.
God, Tom hated Stanley.
He couldn't count how many times he imagined himself putting a knife through his back. Strangling him. Letting him feel at least an ounce of the pain he put Becky through.
Tenderhearted, kind, loving Becky Barnes.
How could a man so cold hurt a woman so warm?
He guessed she was happy then, and how could he not? They had completely lost touch after he came home from the army. And in that time, he found Jane. And after all of those years suffering in the military, he was happy.
Tom knew three things then:
One, that he loved Jane. Two, that Jane gave him Tim. And three, that he would always love Becky Barnes. She always had a space in his heart, even if that space was shared with Jane. And he would never regret his choice to love Jane, even after her death.
But he didn’t realize just how much space Becky occupied until she came back into his life.
Until that night.
And now she was giving him a child too.
He couldn’t help but be grateful that Stanley was dead. Or, allegedly dead.
But the technicalities didn't matter, because he couldn’t hurt his girl any longer.
Because she was no longer alone.
Because they were together.
A family.
Becky swiftly knelt down, sitting beside Tom. Her back found a flat part of the dresser behind her, and she let herself rest against it. She knew she’d never get back up, but at least in the moment she was comfortable. Placing her right arm on her belly, she leaned into her left and steadied herself. “Did you have a girl's name in mind or?”
Tom shook his head, his eye contact falling to the floor. “Not really. We joked that if we had a daughter she’d be screwed in that department.”
Becky tilted her head, a soft smile appearing. “You wouldn't have just named her after Jane’s mom?”
‘Well… her name was Edna.”
She nodded, immediately understanding. It wasn’t a bad name per se… but it was definitely dated. “Ahh I see." She whispered. "What about your mom? I always loved her name.”
“I don’t know. Jane never did.”
Becky was taken back for a moment, her brow furrowing. How could Jane not like his mother's name? And how could she not let it be an option? “But it’s more about the sentiment… isn’t it?”
Tom shook his head in response, his body language softening as he thought over what to say.
Jane was a control freak, but not one he couldn't handle. She had certain dreams... certain expectations and goals. She even wrote it all down in a Lisa Frank binder, and somehow, she stuck to it. Even after all this time, Tom couldn't bring himself to throw it out... and every once in a while he read through it.
Graduate college, become a psychiatrist, get married, buy a house, have kids. All boxes Jane had checked. Who was he to stand in the way of her dreams when he was the sole part of them?
“Yeah. Yeah I guess.” Just then, Tom stabbed the tip of his finger with a nail. It quickly started to bleed, so he threw his hand straight into his mouth. “Ahh shit.” he hissed as he pressed his lips to the wound. 'Fucking shit."
Becky pushed herself onto her knees and crawled over to her fiancé, quickly reaching out her arm to examine the cut. “Let me see.” He slowly gave her his hand, and she pulled it close. It wasn't a deep cut, it wasn't bleeding too bad, and it didn't look like it needed stitches.
She breathed out.
It was fine. Tom was fine.
“We have band aids in the bathroom cabinet. I’ll be right back.”
Tom pulled Becky to her feet, and within a moment she was back at his side, helping him wrap his finger. He was good as new in no time.
As she fixed the last part of the bandage, he grinned. “This doesn’t bother you… does it?”
Becky let out a laugh. She'd seen hundreds of wounds in the emergency room. She'd patched up hundreds of cuts on Tim. And between all of that blood and gore, this was practically nothing. ‘What? Putting a bandaid on your finger? I’m a nurse Tom.”
“Right. You've probably seen worse huh?"
Becky felt another memory pull her. Somehow, recounting her experiences pushed her deep into darkness.
It all came back at the hem of Tom's question.
Because she had seen worse.
She had done worse.
Flash. Bang.
She saw the knife lifting. The blood spilling. The sound of Stanley's flesh opening. His screams.
But Tom turned back to finish his work, not noticing that Becky was stoic beside him, her eyes glossed over.
But the memory only continued.
Flash. Bang.
Running. She was running through the Witchwood.
Trees of all lengths taunting her as she dashed towards the edge of the forest.
No, she dared not to climb.
No, she was terrified of heights.
“Hey, Beck?” Tom whispered, putting his hand on her arm. She was completely tuned out, practically dead to the world. She was lost in a nightmare... some sort of flashback. He leaned closer into her. “You alright?”
The proximity of his voice immediately pulled her out. Her eyes flashed to Tom, the deep blue scanning his face. Her eyes were wide as she did so, as if she had been dropped into the room for the first time. She placed her hand to her chest, her breathing quickly beginning to regulate.
She was home. She was safe. She was with Tom.
And Tom never raised his voice.
He never lifted his hand.
Yet Stanley still somehow found a way to taunt her.
In blood. In the reflection of a knife. In the leaves of the evergreen trees in their homes backyard. In the darkness of their basement.
The image of him in her mind made her sick. The image of what she did... and how she left him there. He didn’t deserve to occupy such a space, and yet he commanded it.
She pushed him away, quickly remembering his absence.
Becky recounted three more things:
One, Stanley was gone. Two, she was safe. And three, he would never come for her again.
Not with Tom at her side.
“I’m… I’m fine.”
Tom scoffed, raising his brow In concern. “You don’t look fine. Talk to me.”
Becky knew she didn’t have to keep her guard up with him. She was safe. She was home. But still after all this time, there were moments that made her shudder. Moments where her memories were taken hostage.
“I just… I keep thinking about…” She knew she didn't need to explain. Tom knew her inside and out. But she couldn't help but have fleeting feelings of vulnerability. That Stanley was waiting to strike. That he would come back. That he would kill.
“Stanley.” Tom finished.
Becky nodded. She hated that even though he was gone, he still had the audacity to exist. At least, in her mind. Maybe in real life too.
She stopped herself from going there.
She was home. She was safe. She was with Tom.
“He’s long gone, Beck.”
She sighed, reaching for Tom's hands. He led her down to the floor where she came beside him once more, crossing her legs. “I know, I know. Sometimes I still… I don’t know.” She paused, trying to hold back the tears. “Sometimes I still get a little afraid.”
Tom pushed himself onto his knees, turning to face her. He cupped her face. “I know.” He whispered, taking a deep breath. He was aware of what happened in Becky's mind. She didn't have to hide it. All he had to do was understand it.
“But he can’t hurt you. Either of you. Not with me around, ok?”
“Ok.”
“I mean it.' He pressed. He needed her to know that she was safe. That she was home. And that Stanley had no power over her with him around. "I’ve got you both. On my life.”
“Yeah. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, ok?" She asked, letting out a shaky exhale and squeezing his hand. "No more death for a long time would be great.”
“You got it.” He replied with a nod, an ease now in his tone. “But hey, if it did come down to it, he wouldn’t win.”
She let out a laugh. Tom's ability to make her smile was something she would never take for granted. Even in her worst moments he gave her joy. “That is true.” She then shifted her weight, grunting softly as she stretched out her left leg. God, she missed moving with ease… something she never thought she’d have to miss. “He’d have some tough competition.”
“That’s all you’re giving me?” He asked playfully. “I’d pound on the bastard. Leave him a bloody mess.”
She shuddered a little, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Sometimes Tom got carried away talking about these things. But she knew it was because he was protective, and nowhere near violent.
He wasn’t Stanley.
He wouldn’t hurt her… them.
She was safe. She was home. And Tom would never hurt her.
Any threat to their family and he would come to the rescue. But sometimes he talked too much of the fantasy, and it only entertained bad memories.
“Fair enough.” She whispered.
He saw her shift, and immediately began to back track. He knew he had gone too far. That he had accidentally made her feel bad.
She was safe. She was home. She was with him.
This is the place where safety was promised. Not a luxury, but a given. And he would always hold himself to that... even if all he wanted to do was choke Stanley out with his bare hands.
“I’m sorry Beck, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, I understand. Stanley was…”
She stopped.
She couldn’t recite a single good trait. A single good memory.
But he was gone. She was safe. She was with Tom.
“…. you have every right to hate him.”
“But I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that.”
It hurt to see her so upset. So… broken. So broken from a man that didn’t deserve her love. A man who didn’t deserve her compassion, or her kindness. Who didn’t deserve to know any piece of her, good or bad. “I just want you to know that I'll always fight for you. For our family.”
“I know.” Becky replied, taking Tom's hand and putting it on her belly. She smiled up at him, a twinge of happiness on the side of her face. Tom looked down, running his thumb up the soft curve where a new life resided. Where their daughter would remain until she came home to them. Until she was in their arms. Safe from the world. Safe from harm.
Where she would be with Becky. Where she would be with Tom. Where she would be with Tim.
The four of them. A family.
And Tom would always fight for their family.
“I’m counting on it Tom." There was yearning in her eyes. A yearning that brought him back. That brought him back to the past versions of themselves. The ones that were hopeful... fearless.
He was going to be that man for Becky again. He was going to be fearless. And he was going to lead her, protect her, and hold her for the rest of his days.
He sighed, circling back to earlier in their conversation. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come down to that. Ok?”
Her smile grew, and the stronghold on her mind temporarily loosened. “Ok.”
With Tom, she would never be hurt again. He was her protector... her guiding light. And she would learn to trust him, and let her fear come and go.
Becky Barnes knew three things:
One, that she loved Tom. Two, that Tom loved her. And three, that Stanley couldn't hurt them.