Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You!” A hand grabs Joel by the bicep, wrenching him away from the panelling he had been inspecting. He nearly has his own hand raised, fisted up and ready to fend off an attack, but he drops it immediately when he realises who is trying to get his attention. Instead, he suppresses a groan and remembers what Tess had said about needing the money from this gig and not to be causing any trouble.

He paints on a forced smile. “Evening, ma’am. Anything I can help you with?”

“There’s a presence around you,” the woman intones mysteriously, her many bracelets tinkling as she flutters a hand at the space around him. There’s a green headpiece partly covering her hair, matching the long flowy bohemian-style dress she’s wearing. She presses a palm to her temple and closes her eyes in concentration. “Something’s coming through… I’m sensing the letter ‘S’. It’s very important to you.”

Joel’s smile drops immediately, hand once again fisting at his side. He’s about to give her a piece of his mind when he feels a light touch on his back and the familiar scent of Tess’s perfume wafts over him.

“Hey,” Tess addresses the psychic, “find some other sucker to test your cold-reading bullshit on. He isn’t buying it.”

“It’s not bullshit!” The woman raises her head haughtily. “I am-”

“Oh, save it,” Tess’s voice drips with contempt, “we’ve heard it all before.”

Offended, the psychic flounces off – likely to investigate another part of the house, far away from them. Tess turns back to him, still visibly irritated. “Fucking charlatans.” Her eyes soften when they meet his and she reaches out to rub his arm. “You alright?”

“Fine.” It’s not the first time he’s been subjected to something like this. He’s hardened to it now. “I still don’t get how that cold-reading stuff works.”

“Oh, it’s been around centuries.” Tess tells him. “There was a big rise in popularity during the Victorian era. A lot of it is high probability guesses and vague, contradictory statements combined with whatever they can glean from you as a person based on how you present yourself and your reactions to what they say.” She rolls her eyes. She’s never had much patience for the others in her line of work. “But she didn’t need any of that with you.”

“Oh?”

Tess seems to realise a little too late what she had said, an uneasy expression crossing her face. He thinks she might try to change the subject, but in the end she tells him the truth. “Built up a bit of a name for ourselves, Texas.” She says with a tight little smile. “All she had to go was google you.”

The pieces click into place and Joel feels himself growing angry again. He knows that a simple search of his name is enough to bring up all the news articles about Sarah’s murder. Just how much of that wound had that woman been willing to re-open for the sake of duping him? Endeavouring to remain calm and avoid blowing their chances at a decent payout, he touches the broken watch face on his wrist briefly, brings back to mind what his therapist has told him to do during these painful moments.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds Tess watching him with concern. “I’m alright.” He promises, squeezing her arm fondly. Then to take both their minds off it, he nods at the panelling. “Got some ideas about what might be causing the noise.”

If someone had told him ten years ago that he would end up traipsing around the country with a medium, investigating sites of reported hauntings, he would have laughed. He had never believed in any of that nonsense, still didn’t to a large extent, though he knew many in his position clung to the hope of their loved ones lingering on after death.

The job offer had come at exactly the right time, just a few months after Tommy had moved across the country as part of his half-baked career pivot to political activism. “I’m going to try to make a difference.” He had said proudly. “The hell kind of difference do you think you will make?” Joel retorted unkindly. They hadn’t spoken for months after that fight.

Tess’s phone-call had come after weeks of self-isolation. Of doing nothing but going to work every day and returning to his empty house with all its tainted memories. Of too many hours contemplating putting another gun to his head and this time trying not to miss.

“This Joel Miller?” Were her first words to him after he’d dropped the gun in favour of answering his cell phone. “I’ll be in Austin on Tuesday next week. I’m looking for someone with experience in construction to act as a consultant. You interested?”

He had said yes, because fuck it- why not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

That following Tuesday he met Tess at the gates of a large old house. Not quite a mansion but certainly far out of Joel’s price range. He didn’t know what to expect of her, she hadn’t told him much on the phone - only where they would be meeting and how much he could expect to be paid if, in her words, “the client doesn’t stiff us because they don’t like the answers we give them.”

Her appearance when they finally met face to face didn’t give much away. Tess was around his age, he estimated, maybe a handful of years younger. She didn’t advertise herself in the same way as the psychic from the present day, dressed in black slacks and a plain green blouse, with her hair neatly tied back out of the way and not a bangle or bracelet to be seen. Her handshake was firm, professional.

“What exactly do you need from me?” He asked gruffly, when she released him.

Tess inclined her head at the house. “The client has some problems with his property. Try to keep an eye out, see if you can find a logical explanation for any of it.”

“What kind of problems?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, shall we go find out?”

The owner was a man in his sixties, wild-eyed and twitchy. “Thank God you’re here.” He said to Tess, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “It’s her. I know it is. I can’t take much more of this.”

Tess pulled her hand away almost immediately, friendly demeanour suddenly chilling into something much frostier. “I’m sure.” She said coldly. “Why don’t you give us a tour, tell us what the problem is?”

Romero took them to the stairs that led to the second floor. They were made of two different kinds of wood, elaborately carved and twisting upwards. A nice piece of original craftsmanship, though perhaps not the most appropriate for someone in their twilight years.

“My wife, Helen, a few years back she fell down these stairs. She hit the back of her head – there was blood everywhere.” He didn’t sound especially broken up about it for a widower. “About six months back, I started hearing this awful dripping noise. Just like the night I found her.” He shuddered, glancing around himself as though there might be someone else listening in on their conversation. “It’s not consistent. Not a consistent dripping sound. But every time I relax, every time I think about moving on – I hear it.”

“You’ve checked all the taps?”

Mr Romero nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Several times. I even had the washers all replaced, but no it’s not that. It’s her.”

“And where do you hear this dripping noise?” Tess asked.

“Here, where she died.” Mr Romero pointed to a place on the ground, just near the bottom of the stairs. “The kitchen, the living room, the dining room.” They toured the rooms slowly, Joel looking over them with a critical eye. They were all downstairs rooms, he noted.

“Not the bedroom?” Tess’s question seemed innocent enough but there was a hardened edge in the way she said the words. Mr Romero looked uneasy.

“No, not there. Why?” There was a shifty look in his eye, and he was fidgeting uncomfortably with the buttons on his jacket. “Do you sense a… presence there?”

Finally understanding the role that Tess was supposed to be playing there, Joel struggled to hide his disapproval. He expected her to play into the question Romero has asked, but instead Tess shook her head. “No.”

“Let me show you the upstairs anyway.” The man insisted.

Obligingly they followed, inspecting the upstairs sitting room, bathroom, and the first and second guestrooms. The whole time Romero talked about other supernatural goings on – doors slamming shut unexpectedly, strange noises from the attic. Those were easily explainable – there were open windows all over the house and with the recent heavy winds, that explained the odd movements of the doors. As for the attic, Joel spotted a bottle of rat poison in the kitchen. He guessed Mr Romero had a pest problem that had likely moved upstairs.

When they made it to the master bedroom, Tess made a beeline for an ornamental metal statue displayed on one of the bedside tables. She lifted it into her hands, hefting it up and down as though to judge the weight.

“Ah.” Mr Romero rushed forward and took it from her. “This was a wedding gift, from my in-laws.” He placed it back down in its place reverently. “Forty-five years we were married.”

“How nice.” She sounded anything but pleased. “It’s very…” she searched for the right word, and Joel couldn’t really blame her. It was a hideous ornament. “Heavy.” She settled on finally.

Mr Romero took them downstairs again, seemingly eager to leave the master bedroom. In the living room, he served them tea and a selection of biscuits.

“So, what do you think?” He asked Tess, fidgeting with his buttons again. A nervous tick. “Is my wife still here? Is there something I can do to get her to move on?”

“Your house isn’t haunted, Mr Romero.” Tess told him. “Though it sure deserves to be.” She added under her breath, so quiet that Joel wouldn’t have heard her if she hadn’t been so near and on the side of his good ear. “Joel,” she rounded on him suddenly, “did you find anything that might explain the noises Mr Romero has been hearing?”

“Uh, yeah.” He pointed out a small spot on the ceiling above them. “You’ve got these patches all around the house. When’s the last time you had the pipes checked?” At Mr Romero’s blank look, he assumed that it had been a long time, if ever. “Joints have probably degraded enough that you’ve got little leaks all over the house. Not enough to really be noticeable unless you were looking for it, but if you leave it any longer, you’ll get more water coming through.”   

“Oh.” Mr Romero squinted up at the spot. “Guess I’ll get someone in to look at that.”

He wrote them both a check afterwards. An astonishing amount of money for only an hour or so of work, though Joel wondered how much that number has been inflated by the glare Tess was continuing to level at the man. Joel’s hearing might be shot, but his vision was good and he was able to sneak a glance at Tess’s check and he was surprised to see that the amount was the same as his. She had obviously arranged a 50:50 split with Mr Romero, rather than a larger pay-out for herself, considering she had sub-contracted him for the work.

“Decent pay.” He commented once they were outside and Mr Romero was out of earshot.

“Blood money.” Tess said darkly. “He killed his wife.”

“I thought you said the place wasn’t haunted?” He tried not to sound mocking about it, she was his employer after all, but some of it still snuck through.

“It wasn’t.” If she noticed his sarcasm, she didn’t comment on it. She pocketed the check anyway, no matter her grievances. Money’s money, he guessed, he certainly wouldn’t be ripping up his check.  

“This went well.” Tess said. “You seem to know what you’re talking about, at least.”

“Thank you?” He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a compliment.

“I have another gig in San Antonio, if you’re interested.”

“Same pay?”

“Not quite as much. The Mayfield’s aren’t as wealthy.”

“Is it usually like this?” He wasn’t sure if he had the stomach for it, if she decided to start flailing around pretending like there was a ghost.

“Mostly.” She agreed. “Genuine hauntings are rare. False claims sometimes come about because of guilty consciences, like Mr Romero’s,” she nodded back at the house, “other times it can be because a building or location might have a negative history and the inhabitants associate that with the noises they hear. Sometimes it’s just plain fraud. There’s people that will pay to stay somewhere haunted, especially if there’s a gory story to go along with it.”

“Fraud,” Joel repeated, tone dripping with irony, “that’s funny. So what, you’re a psychic?”

“Medium.” She corrected. “At least, I understand that’s the accepted term.” At his sceptical look, she stepped closer. “Look, I don’t need you to believe me. Think what you want, I don’t give a damn. But I don’t know shit about buildings. I can tell them if there is or isn’t a ghost around, and I can send them on their way if they are there, but if there’s no ghost to blame on the creaking and groaning and whatever other ‘supernatural activity’ is going on, they’ll just get cheated by whatever two-bit conman comes next unless I can provide them with a more rational explanation.” She gestured at him. “That’s where you come in.”

Joel weighed it up- the money versus the moral implications of going along with her nonsense and potentially conning hard-working decent idiots out of their money. Then he remembered that Sarah was gone and what the hell did morals even matter anymore?

“50:50 split?” He asked.

“Of course.” Tess agreed amiably. “I’ll find the clients, deal with any actual hauntings. You can do the,” she waved a hand vaguely, “rational building stuff.”

“Deal.”

After another successful job in San Antonio, then Houston, Tess was called to California and Joel was given the option to go with her.

“It’s not an easy life.” She told him. No permanent home, lots of motel stays and long drives from state to state. The pay was good but only if the customer coughed up. Not all of them were willing to accept it if Tess concluded that there was no ghost haunting them. Joel took a few days to think about.

He spent one more night in his empty house and decided that a life on the road had to be better than this.

Sarah’s bedroom was carefully packed into neat boxes, labelled and stacked in a storage container he rented. He allowed himself to keep a few photos and a bracelet she made for him in a brief period where she was into arts and crafts. Anything else he sold or trashed, reducing everything he owned down to what he could fit into a suitcase.

Over two years on, their partnership had proven very successful, though not perhaps as profitable as either of them might have hoped. One of Tess’s contacts, Robert, had told them about this job. A wealthy couple convinced their home, built on a site where an orphanage had burned down, was tormented by spirits.

“One of them is hook line and sinker for everything supernatural.” Robert had said. “Crystals, Ouija boards. All that stuff. Tess,” and here he looked at Joel’s partner pleadingly, “I know you have a gift. If there is a spirit, can you please play along a little. You know,” he winked, “give them a good story. People always like a good story.”

On the rare occasions there had been an apparently genuine haunting, it was fairly anticlimactic. After their usual tour of the building, Tess would pick a moment and announce that a spirit had indeed been present and had now been sent away, with very little elaboration. Sometimes she could be coaxed into providing some additional information, but it was usually very short and perfunctory. Name, age and cause of death. The clients were rarely satisfied with that and more than once, they left without any pay, only for the money to be wired to them a few weeks later when the effects of whatever Tess had done became evident. There was usually a substantial tip tacked on and occasionally, a handwritten apology and thank you.  

Tess stared back at Robert unflinchingly. “I’m sorry that the business of sending the departed on isn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Now Tess, c’mon. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“The people that are stuck here are suffering, Robert.” She said coldly. “I’m not doing it to entertain anyone. I’m doing it because it’s my job.” With that, she snatched the sheet of paper containing the information for the job off him and left Robert’s office, Joel trailing like a shadow after her.

Robert had once tried to convince Joel to speak to Tess about her showmanship. It hadn’t ended well for him.

Back in the Johnson home, Tess and Joel sit on a couch while Madame Adriana (“Her name is fucking Natalie,” Tess hisses at him) presents her findings on the host of spirits apparently plaguing the household.

While the clients, Heather and Mary Johnson, listen enraptured to Natalie’s speech, Joel takes advantage of the lack of attention on them to lean closer to Tess and murmur, “Robert didn’t mention we’d be facing off against a competitor.”

“No, he didn’t.” Tess sighs. “You hearing this shit?”

Natalie is in the midst of describing the sixth spirit – a young girl who died of tuberculosis, who wails constantly for her father to return from the war.

“Six ghosts?” He whispers back. “Sounds a bit crowded.”

A laugh bubbles out from Tess before she’s able to silence herself with a hand over her mouth, but the noise has already drawn the attention of the others in the room.

 “Something amusing?” Natalie asks haughtily, folding her arms over her chest.

“Oh no,” Tess is the image of innocence, saccharinely sweet with her words, “please go on. I’d love to hear more about little Millie.”

“Mildred.” Natalie corrects with a snap. “And there’s nothing more to tell, her spirit is exhausted from what little information she has been able to give me.”

How convenient. Joel can see that Tess is biting her lip to stop a smile. “Of course.”

“Why don’t you tell us about the spirits you have detected?” Natalie suggests, opening her arms wide in invitation. Joel sees her steal a glance over at the clients, making sure they’re paying attention. “I’m sure a medium as accomplished as yourself can sense the many beings in the room.”

“That would be difficult, considering there aren’t any.” Tess replies drily. “Joel?”

“The wall with the wood panelling in the corridor is hollow.” He says, then nods to the wall nearest to him. “All the rooms on this side of the house aren’t as wide as they should be. You’ve got a gap about a metre wide running through the house. I’d guess from the age of the building, you’ve got some prohibition-era secret storage that a family of pests have moved into. That would explain the noises you’ve been hearing.”

“A prohibition-era secret corridor?” Natalie laughs derisively. “Don’t you think that’s a little unrealistic?”

Joel and Tess both stare at her incredulously, but Heather – the crystal loving, Ouija board user- nods along seriously. “I have to admit, I’m more inclined to believe Madame Adriana. You can just feel that this house contains so much negative energy. I’ve been having so much trouble sleeping and I’m sure that it’s because I can hear Mildred crying.” She turns to the psychic with an earnest, pleading look on her face as she clutches at her hands. “Please, Madame Adriana, you must be able to help her.”

Joel can already see his check flying away from him.

A little while later, Heather escorts them to the door, thanking them for coming by. Natalie trails after her, a smug smile on her face.

“It’s a shame not all of us can have the Gift.” Natalie simpers, full of false sympathy.

“It really is a shame.” Tess echoes, voice tinged with amusement. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, Natalie.”

“Adriana.” Natalie corrects her tersely. “And I’m afraid that’s unlikely. Unfortunately, we don’t really run in the same circles.” She doesn’t sound the littlest bit sorry about it.

“Perhaps.” Tess smiles as though she knows something Natalie does not. “But if we do see each other again, I’m sure we’ll be able to look back on today and laugh about it all.”

“I doubt that.” Natalie gives them one last contemptuous look and then walks back into the house, swiftly followed by Heather, leaving them with Heather’s wife, Mary.

Mary has been very quiet all day, but now she fixes Joel with an inscrutable look. “A prohibition storage area?”

“I couldn’t see an entrance, but you do have a lot of furniture lining the walls. It would be hidden, in keeping with the secrecy.”

Mary still looks sceptical, but she nods anyway. “I’ll have a look. If calling in exterminators resolves our issues, I’ll make sure your pay is sent.” She opens the door for them.

“We appreciate that, ma’am.” Joel says respectfully, gesturing for Tess to go before him before stepping out and closing the door behind both of them.

“That could have gone worse.” He tells Tess as they walk back to the car. When he sees the direction she’s walking in, he picks up the pace to make sure he reaches the driver’s side before she can.

Although she narrows her eyes at him as he gets behind the wheel, she seems to think better of arguing and changes tract to climb into the passenger side. “I hate psychics.” She bemoans, shaking her head. Joel has learned from painful experience that pointing out her own skills are adjacent to the profession she professes to hate never leads to anything positive, so he stays silent and slides the keys that Tess toss him into the ignition.

Neither of them have eaten so they drop into a diner for a quick meal, before looking for a motel for the night. At the desk, Joel quirks an eyebrow at Tess in silent question when the manager asks them how many rooms they will be needing.

“Just one, I think.” She looks at him for his agreement and he nods. Funds were tight at the moment, the last few gigs had been duds and they’d been hoping this one would be different. He’s confident they will get paid for it eventually, unlike the others, but they don’t have the money now. “You got a room with twin beds?”

“Only doubles.” The manager replies apologetically. “I could send someone to split them, but it might take a while.”

“Leave it, it’s fine.” Joel replies. It’s not the first time they’ve had to share a room or a bed.

In the room, Tess kicks off her shoes and immediately star-fishes across the bed with a sigh.

Joel opens up one of their suitcases, the one with the overnight gear, and digs out both of their pyjamas. He tosses hers at her such that they land across her face, her answering insult muffled by the cotton. When he looks up again, toiletries bag in hand, she’s sat up with a hand held out for the bag. “I’m going to shower.”

As she normally does, she leaves the door ajar, allowing some of the steam to seep into the room. Joel undresses, pulling on the flannel pyjamas he bought after the first time they ended up at a motel with only one room available. He carefully folds up his clothes and puts them away with the rest. They’ll need to find a laundry soon - maybe at their next stop.

He wanders into the bathroom, “Tessa?” The shower curtain is almost opaque, but he can still see the outline of her through it and he averts his gaze. “How far is it to our next job?”

“Not too far.” She answers, voice raised so she can be heard over the stream of water. “Then after, I thought we’d head to that job Bill and Frank recommended us for?”

Joel nods, stealing another furtive glance at the shower curtain. “Sounds good.”

After all this time working together, including the few ‘genuine’ hauntings, Joel may not have been convinced about the existence of ghosts but he couldn’t deny that there was something unexplainable about Tess. For all that Robert bemoaned her lack of showmanship, she made up for it in effectiveness. He had seen that first hand with Frank and Bill.

Frank had been the one to call them to the house – an impeccably maintained property in Lincoln, Massachusetts. It wasn’t a malevolent haunting, he insisted, but a spirit trapped on this plane that he hoped they would be able to help. Likely having pictured a more visibly spiritual pair, the artist was visibly disappointed with their unpretentious appearances when they arrived. He hid it well and quickly bonded with Tess, and the two of them were soon chatting amiably like long-time friends. Bill on the other hand, Frank’s partner and the owner of the property, didn’t even try to hide his hostility. The reluctantly given tour was anything but thorough, punctuated with glares and don’t-touch-that’s.

For his part, Joel had been struggling to identify possible causes of the noises and supernatural activities that Frank had described to them. Bill obviously loved the house – all the fittings and structures in every room were in pristine condition and when Joel asked about when various parts had been last looked over by a professional, he found nothing to complain about in the short answers Bill gave.

“Your parents built this house, right?” Tess asked.

 “My father built it.” Bill answered shortly. “I’m sure you noticed the carving with the dates in the sitting room.” An underlying accusation that she was trying to dupe them into thinking she had preternatural knowledge of the building.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yes, you did.” Bill snapped. “You think I don’t know your game? You people trying to con the grieving and vulnerable, you might have Frank fooled, but it won’t work on me.”

With every word he advanced further towards Tess, face flushed red with anger, until Joel decided that he was close enough. He inserted himself between them, protectively pushing Tess behind him and staring down at Bill, daring him to try something. Bill glared back, fingers reaching down to something at his waist.

“Bill!” Frank snapped crossly. “These are our guests.”

Joel felt Tess’s firm touch on his back, the pressure of it having an instantly calming effect. “It’s alright.” She said, addressing both Joel and Frank. At her nudging, Joel backed down, stepping back after one final dark look at Bill.

 “Bill, why don’t you and I talk in private?” Tess said, in that voice she used when she wanted to persuade someone to go along with what she was saying. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you’re welcome to kick the both of us out.”

Bill looked sorely tempted to kick them out now. “You have five minutes.” He said gruffly, after a look at Frank. “Then you’re gone.”

“Of course.” Tess agreed smoothly.

Bill made to lead them to a room, but Tess laid a hand on his arm. “Allow me. I think I know the perfect spot.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously but he acquiesced and the two disappeared down the corridor.

Frank sighed and turned to Joel. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.”

Joel sat in the kitchen while Frank poured them coffee into two identical, unchipped mugs. “Milk or sugar?”

“Just black, please.” He took the offered mug and had a sip, ignoring the blistering heat of it. Aware that the next five minutes might feel longer if passed in awkward silence, Joel searched for a topic of conversation. “What made you decide to contact us to deal with your… supernatural problems?”

“Oh, there’s a Facebook group.” Frank explained cheerfully. “For people experiencing hauntings. There was a family on there that recommended Tess. They said that they had tried everything before her – psychics, mediums, exorcisms, purification rituals, all that stuff. She was the only one that actually managed to help them. One visit from her and boom – no more flickering lights or slamming doors or sudden changes in temperature.”

The Romano family. The children still regularly sent drawings to Tess’s PO box, and they received a Christmas card every year, with a smiling picture of the family on the front.

“How long have the two of you been together?” Frank asked.

“Been working together about a year now.”

“Were you already in a relationship or did that come later?”

Joel stared at him blankly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Frank looked surprised. “I shouldn’t have assumed. The two of you just seem… so close”

“We’re not like that.” Joel shook his head, uncertain why the idea bothered him so. “We’re partners.”

It wouldn’t be the last time someone would make that assumption. When Joel and Tommy finally reconciled and he introduced him to Tess, Tommy jumped to the same conclusion. He had been baffled when Joel corrected him.

“Right, of course.”

They drank the rest of their coffees in awkward silence.

After a while, Joel glanced at his broken watch absentmindedly and then flinched, reaching instead for his cell phone to check the time. “It’s been more than five minutes. Do you think they’ve managed to kill each other?”

“Oh, Bill wouldn’t do that. He’s a big softie at heart.” Joel doubted that. Frank’s forehead creased in concern. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

They waited another ten minutes, until the dregs left in Joel’s cup had lost all warmth. Just as Joel was about to insist on searching for his wayward partner, the door opened, and the two missing members of the party walked in.

Tess looked much the same as when she had left. Her gaze immediately found his and she nodded reassuringly. I’m fine, everything’s fine. Bill, on the other hand, looked to have aged a decade, face pale and expression conveying a deep shock he had yet to recover from.

Frank stood up abruptly, his chair falling with a bang as he worriedly made his way to Bill’s side. “Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine.” Bill replied automatically, clasping Frank’s hand in a tender gesture entirely at odds with his hard man façade. His eyes flicked over to Joel and Tess. “Do you two want to stay for dinner?”

Joel is brushing his teeth when the water turns off, and Tess’s hand is thrust through the curtain, reaching blindly for a towel. Taking it off the rail, he pushes it into her grasping hand and returns to the sink to rinse his mouth.

“I spoke to Tommy this morning while you were on the phone to the client.”

“Oh? How’s he doing?”

“Homewrecking.”

“Hilarious.” Tess says deadpan. Then, when he doesn’t laugh, she pokes her head out from behind the curtain to stare at him wide-eyed. “What? You’re serious.”

Joel nods, lips twitching. “His boss, apparently.”

“So, he’s fired?”

“No,” Joel clarifies, “he’s been sleeping with his boss.”

Tess laughs, the sound warm and rich. He likes making her laugh – it doesn’t happen often enough in his opinion.

“You know one day something’s going to happen and he’s not going to be able to keep going around doing this kind of shit anymore.”

“Ah.” Joel’s smile dims slightly. “That may already have happened.” Tess’s head re-appears again and she fixes him with a questioning look. After a moment he replies, trying his best to sound as neutral as possible. “She’s pregnant.”

She peels back the curtain and steps out of the bath, white towel wrapped tightly around her. “How are you feeling about that?” She asks compassionately, coming to his side and placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs and replies honestly. “I’m not sure. I’m happy for him, I think this will be good for him, even though the circumstances,” he grimaces, “are messier than I would have liked for him. But then I start thinking about how there’s going to be a child in the family, and it won’t be Sarah and I…”

It has become easier to talk about her since he started seeing a therapist, something Tess had insisted upon when they began working together. “All this talk of death and murder can start to get to you if you’re not careful,” she had told him. It had taken him a little while to find the right one, and one that would work well on video call considering how much travelling they did, but eventually he had.

The first session had started with a stilted recall of his most recent jobs with Tess, each event described as dispassionately as if he had been listing the groceries he needed to buy. Somehow, with some careful coaxing he had eventually been able to admit out loud that in the last house they visited there was a bedroom that was a shrine to the couple’s deceased daughter and all he had been able to think about was Sarah and her pink curtains and soccer trophies, all boxed away on the other side of the country.

It’s easier to talk about her with a stranger than with any of the multitudes of concerned friends and family that have besieged him since her death. God knew Tommy had tried often enough to get him to open up before their big fight. After a few years of it, he finds himself more capable of remembering all the good years they had, and not just that one awful day. 

But for as much progress as he has made, there are still moments like now where the grief strikes him anew, fresh and raw, like fabric dragged across an open wound.

Tess’s hand on his chest, palm against heart, grounds him back to reality. Her other hand cups his cheek, forcing him to look at her – her green eyes so different to Sarah’s, hair damp and dripping on the floor. “Joel, take a breath.”

He’s breathing too fast. He forces himself to focus on the slow rise and fall of her chest, deep inhale and hold, then shaky exhale. After a few more breaths like this, Joel feels his heart rate slow, until it no longer feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

Tess is still there when he’s calmed – still with that same compassionate look on her face, not even a hint of judgement. What would he do without her? Joel wonders. What wouldn’t he do for her? He leans down and heedless of the fact she is wearing nothing other than a towel, wraps her in a tight embrace. He drops his head down to press against her shoulder, breathing in the clean smell of her coconut-scented shampoo and the citrus soap they both use.

“Good?” Tess asks after a long moment, her hand stroking through his hair as though soothing a small child.

Joel nods. “Good.”

He parts from her a little reluctantly and then makes a face when he spots the wet patch on his t-shirt, where her damp hair had pressed. Tess raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to complain and then pushes against his shoulder.

“Alright, out. I need to get dressed.”

Banished from the bathroom, Joel prepares the bed the way they both prefer it. Firm pillows on the left side for him; softer ones, and an additional blanket on the right for her- she gets cold easily.

When Tess emerges from the bathroom, she yawns widely and immediately slips under the covers on her side, out like a light the second her head hits the pillow. He envies her for it sometimes, how easily sleep comes to her. He climbs in next to her and stares at the ceiling until he finally drifts off.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he has nightmares that night. They always come after an attack like the one he had earlier – as though the weakness in him opens a window that allows them in, and they wait there in the back of his head until they can ambush him at his most vulnerable.

He sees Sarah again as he saw her last, laid out in her coffin in the black dress Tommy had picked out for her. The dress that hides the mess the bullets had made of her stomach and all the blood that had poured out. Too much blood for such a little body. Her eyes open, the same shade of brown he sees every day in the mirror, and she starts to cry just like she had that night. Daddy, it hurts.

She’s in his arms in the street and he’s pressing down, trying to stem the bleeding. Baby hold on, please, just a little longer. Then the gunman is in front of him, a scared kid with a rifle that shakes as it points in his direction. Red erupts from his head, his neck, his chest and Joel turns back to Sarah but she’s already gone and her eyes are glazed over and empty and he’s screaming and screaming and-

“Joel!”

Tess violently shakes him awake. He gulps deep lungfuls of air and swipes at his face. His cheeks are damp from tears and he scrubs harder, hating how weak it makes him feel.

Later, he’s holding a mug of tea that Tess has made him. She always carries a selection around wherever they go. Peppermint in the mornings, ginger for dealing with a hangover, hibiscus whenever she was stressed about something. He lets the cup warm his hands, breathes in deeply the smell of chamomile before taking a long sip.

“Was it the usual one?” Tess asks delicately.

“Yeah.” He shudders.

“When’s your next call with Cal? You want to reschedule for sooner?” His therapist. Tess doesn’t pry, she won’t push him to talk about it. She’s always been good about letting him reveal his troubles at his own pace.

“Next week. I don’t need to reschedule.”

“Alright.” Tess hesitates. “You know I checked earlier, after I had the call with the client. There’s a group that meets weekly in the next town near the job. They have a session tomorrow. We could stay the night so you could go, if you’d like to.

At Cal’s suggestion, Joel had started to attend support meetings for parents that had lost children. He had been reluctant to at first, but actually once he finally managed to drag himself to one, he found it surprisingly helpful. Ridiculous as it may have sounded, he hadn’t expected that there would be others who could understand the pain he had experienced, the profound sense of loss he woke up with each day.

To no one’s surprise, Tess has many connections with various different bereavement groups and without him needing to ask, she keeps track of whichever ones are running in their area in case he finds himself struggling more than usual.

Unfortunately, Tess has also taken up the habit of trying to set him up with single grieving mothers she finds at these groups, so it’s a bit of a double-edged sword.

“No,” he says eventually, “that job Frank and Bill recommended us for is hours away, I’d rather we spend the time travelling.” He reaches over next to him to clasp at her hand, trying to ease her worries. “I’m alright, I promise.”

The sorrow from the nightmare isn’t enough that he’s willing to risk another opportunity for Tess to painfully remind him that she doesn’t feel the same way he does.

Joel finishes his tea, hands steady again. Tess takes the mug back from him, “Alright big guy, back to sleep.”

She pushes him gently towards the bed and he complies without resistance, a bone-deep weariness in his limbs that tells him he won’t have as much difficulty getting to sleep this time.

Once under the sheets, he hesitates for a few seconds before turning onto his side, hoping Tess will understand the silent cue. Mercifully she does and he feels the warmth of her press against his back, her hand coming around to his front. He catches it, interlocks their fingers and brings their clasped hands to his chest. She’s already asleep, judging from the deep fluttering breaths against his neck. He lets the repetitive sound lull him to better dreams.

It had been a few months since their job for Bill and Frank and they found themselves in New York attending a convention for people in similar lines of work as them. They had gone because it was free- their flights, accommodation and food paid for by a generous benefactor that had been keen to meet Tess there. Joel had thought it mostly a waste of time, but Tess seized the opportunity to network. By the time the convention was winding down, she had booked them enough jobs to cover the next two months.

The last day of the convention had fallen on New Year’s Eve and one of Tess’s new friends had invited them to a party they were hosting that night. Joel had nearly declined for the both of them when Tess spoke the fatal words in a wistful voice: “I’ve never been invited to a New Year’s Eve party before.”

A few hours later, it was 11:55 and there was a sudden rush of people finding their girlfriends/boyfriends/spouses and a sense of palpable panic from those that remained unpaired. Tess noticed and nudged him with an elbow, nearly spilling some of her drink. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nearly midnight.” He said by way of explanation, figuring she had just lost track of time.

“What happens at midnight?”

“Uh,” he couldn’t tell if she was joking, “you know? Midnight, New Year’s Eve.” When she continued to look at him blankly, he elaborated. “People kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh.” She dragged the word out and then frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Why did people kiss at the turn of the year? Joel dragged his mind back, trying to think if it had ever come up in conversation. Tommy had always been a big one for New Year’s Eve parties and usually dragged Joel along. He had even participated most years – it wasn’t as if he had ever had to struggle to find someone willing to ring in the start of the New Year with.

The large digital clock near them hit 11:59 and a countdown began, the entire room joining in the chant. 59, 58, 57… There was a mad scramble for partners and someone knocked into Tess as they ran past, accidentally pushing her into Joel’s chest. He caught her and sent a vicious look at the departing idiot, who shouted a brief ‘sorry’ behind himself, still racing to the other side of the room.

Tess’s enjoyment of the joyous atmosphere as the countdown approached zero was obvious and he found himself buoyed by her infectious enthusiasm. That was his excuse for the split-second decision he made when the clock stuck midnight.

It wasn’t the kiss that did it – it had been a very chaste peck, lasting only a second or two. It was the giddy smile on her face afterwards, pleased as punch that she got to experience something that Joel had never thought of as special before. He thought about how much he’d like to see that smile again and then he was reminded of Frank’s words back in Lincoln. “How long have the two of you been together?” As though it was so obvious that they were more than just work partners.

Joel wakes to the smell of fresh coffee. When he peels his eyes open, there is a steaming takeout cup on the table nearest to him. Tess is already dressed, hair tied back with a blue and purple patterned bandana he’d picked up for her on a whim in Colorado. Everything they don’t need any more is packed up and there’s a set of freshly ironed clothes laid out for him.

“Morning.” Tess says over the rim of her own cup. “Sleep better?”

“Much.”

“I found somewhere nearby that does as much eggs and bacon as you’d like. We can get off once you’re showered and dressed. I’ve paid the owner.”

“How are we doing for money?”

“We’ve been better.” She doesn’t look too concerned. “We’ve also been worse.”

There were always ups and downs to the work, but there had been an especially bad period several months back, where both the jobs and money seemed to dry up overnight. It had come to the point where Joel had been considering trying to pick up some odd jobs to earn a bit of extra cash.

In the end, it hadn’t come to it. Tess disappeared one night and then reappeared the morning after, with several large wads of cash and a disgruntled expression. When he ventured to ask where the money had come from, she’d only replied, “medium work I’d rather not do,” and then refused to elaborate any further. He didn’t want to have to put her in such a situation again.

An hour later they’re back on the road, Tess in the driver’s seat this time, travelling to their next job. It’s a bit of a white-knuckled ride. Tess is good at a great many things, but driving isn’t one of them. She drives as though she’s used to not having any other cars on the road and treats the highway code as though it were a list of optional suggestions.

Today’s job is located at a small doctor’s surgery and something about the place immediately makes Joel feel uneasy. It isn’t the first time he and Tess have been called to a place of business, not even their first time at a medical establishment. “Ghosts are more likely to be found in places where there is a lot of death.” Tess had told him once. “Sometimes a soul can be missed in the chaos.” It’s been closed down for their visit, which is more unusual. Normally they’re snuck in at the back and asked to conduct their investigations as discretely as possible, lest someone determine their actual purpose.

They’re greeted at the door by their client, a woman named Marlene. As far as Joel can tell, she doesn’t seem to be a medical professional but rather someone who manages the business.

“Thank you for coming,” Marlene says, shaking first Tess’s hand and then Joel’s. She has the cautious look of someone who isn’t convinced about the existence of the supernatural but has experienced enough unusual events that she’s beginning to doubt her convictions.

“It started about six months ago.” She tells them as they walk down the corridors. “One of our patients sadly passed away, a young girl. Ever since it’s been like something out of a bad movie – rooms going cold suddenly, animals acting strange. The electricals are constantly going haywire. We can’t work like this.”

Tess is staring at the ceiling with a frown. Joel nudges her lightly. “Tess?”

“You go on ahead,” she replies distractedly, “Marlene, would it be alright if I looked around by myself?”

Marlene doesn’t seem to like that idea, but people in her position that have to call Tess for help with their problems are usually out of options and don’t have the luxury of saying no to her requests.

“Sure,” Marlene’s attention turns to him, “what about your partner?”

Tess pauses and Joel can already tell what she’s thinking when she looks over Marlene, gaze lingering a fraction too long on the empty space on Marlene’s left ring finger. “Joel, why don’t you let Marlene show you the rest of the place? You might spot something that could help explain what’s happening here.”

It’s a fight not to groan aloud. He already knows based on how Tess is acting that there will be nothing to find, but before he can find the right words to decline, Tess is already walking away leaving him alone with Marlene.

Marlene smiles at him knowingly and inclines her head. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rooms that have been most affected.”

Based on what Marlene tells him on the way there, he expects flickering lights, machines turning off and on again and random fluctuations in temperature, but each room she takes him to appears boringly ordinary. He would have thought she had been exaggerating, but Marlene becomes increasingly distressed with the lack of supernatural activity, as though they might not believe her without seeing the evidence for themselves.

In the last room she wants to show him, Marlene’s cell phone starts to ring. She glances at it and grimaces.

“Excuse me,” she says to him apologetically, “I need to take this.”

“By all means.”

She answers the call as she’s walking out the door, leaving him alone in the waiting room. Joel settles into a chair, leans back and wonders how much longer Tess will be. Maybe she’s already done and is hoping that if they are left long enough, he and Marlene might form a connection.

Near him, the television intended to keep patients occupied while they wait for their appointments suddenly flicks on, skipping through channels until it lands on some overly violent children’s cartoon. The noise of it is gratingly annoying, so Joel gets to his feet and turns it back off with a huff. It waits until he’s sat down again, one arm resting on the arm rest and his chin propped up on it, and then the television turns back on.

The battle of wills continues on for a few minutes until Joel loses patience entirely and unplugs the damn thing from the back. If it is a poltergeist misbehaving, that action stumps them only for a few minutes and then they start messing around with the lights. They flick on and off, the timing irregular. After a little while, it occurs to him that the pattern is repeating and the alterations in timing may be Morse code. He and Tommy learned it years back and although he’s rusty, he’s able to decode the message. R… U… N…

Joel directs an unimpressed glare at the ceiling.  

“There you are.” Tess’s voice rings out across the room, clear and amused.

The lights immediately halt their flickering. “Oh don’t play innocent now,” Tess says after a short pause, “how long have you been haunting my poor partner there?”

“There’s one in the room?” Joel asks, squinting around as though some ghostly apparition might suddenly appear. He’s not sure why he bothers, he’s never seen anything in the years they have worked together.

“Yes, she says you look like a ‘right miserable bastard’.” Tess tells him, lips tugging into a smile as she quotes the insult. “And you should try to cheer up before your face gets stuck that way.”

Tess has never involved him so much in this side of the business before and he’s not entirely sure how to handle it. “At least I have a face.” He retorts eventually, raising his voice in case the ghost is on the other side of the room.

“You don’t need to shout,” Tess admonishes lightly, “she’s sitting next to you.”

Joel redirects his glare to the empty seat on his right.

“Texas?” Tess calls, getting his attention again. Her grin is much more evident now as she mouths the word ‘left’ at him.

“What happens now?” He asks, after he’s shifted to the correct side. “How do you get rid of them?”

The lights flicker again a few times and then the room is plunged into darkness.

“I take it our resident ghost isn’t too fond of that idea?” Joel drawls sarcastically.

“Not too fond of your phrasing, perhaps.” Tess is having far too much fun. “She’d like you to apologise, you have been quite rude to her.”

“She annoyed the fuck out of me before you got here.”

“Eh, she’s just a kid. Be the bigger person.” There’s a beat of silence and then Tess laughs, presumably at something the ghost has said to her.

“Sorry.” Joel says, utterly lacking in sincerity. He wonders how old the ghost is for Tess to call them a kid. Old enough to have attitude, certainly.

“There,” Tess gives the seat to his left a beatific smile, “all good now? Shall we go?”

After a moment her smile slips, brow furrowing with concern. “Sure. We can talk all about it, but maybe let’s do that while getting you to where you belong.” Another pause and then Tess looks back to him, a long-suffering expression on her face.

“What is it?”

“A last request.” Tess sighs dramatically. “What did the egotistical ghost say?”

“What?” He’s not intentionally playing along with the joke, more confused as to the sudden turn to the conversation.

“If you’ve got it, haunt it.” Tess’s lip twitches with the effort of holding back a snicker.

Joel stares at her blankly and then looks to his left. “That’s so fucking dumb.”

Still chortling, Tess heads to a door on his right that he knows from Marlene’s tour leads to a small private room. She opens it and holds it wide. “Alright then, come on.”

Uncertain as to who she is addressing, Joel rises to his feet.

“Not you.” Tess clarifies with a sad smile. “I prefer to do this part in privacy. You can wait here, or maybe go find Marlene? Tell her I’m taking care of her problem.”

“I’ll wait.” He says, sitting back down. “We’ll tell her together.” To go find Marlene would only encourage Tess into thinking he was interested.

When the door opens again, Tess storms out in a rage. A brief call of his name is the only warning he gets before she leaves the waiting room, heading like some vengeful spirit down the corridor to the last place he saw Marlene when she left to take her phone call.

“What’s wrong?” Marlene asks cautiously, stubbing out the cigarette she had been smoking.

“I had a little chat with your resident spirit.” Tess replies, voice icy. “How do you even live with yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

“Anna trusted you to take care of her little girl and you used her as a lab rat.”

Marlene pales at the accusation. “You can’t possibly understand-”

“I understand enough.” Tess’s lip curls in contempt. “I’ve reunited Ellie with her mother. She won’t bother your business anymore.”

“Thank you.” Marlene says, genuinely grateful.

“I didn’t do it for you.” Tess snaps. “May you never have a moment’s peace.”

Marlene pays them generously – more than what they had originally agreed upon. An attempt to ease a guilty conscience or a bribe for their silence. He can tell that Tess is sorely tempted to refuse it, but she swallows her pride and takes the check. They need the money and it’s not as though there’s a court that would ever accept her testimony.

They drive as long as they can bear, until it’s dark and the road ahead begins to blur from his own tiredness. Spotting the signs for a nearby city, Joel turns off and drives them to a hotel for the night.

While Tess at her own insistence sorts through their cases in the car, Joel goes inside to check them in. They have more than enough money to book two rooms and he considers it for a moment, before deciding instead to put the money they would spend on two rooms towards one room at a significant upgrade from their usual standards. Tess is still in a foul mood, and he wants to try to cheer her up.

It seems to work, at least a little. She brightens when she enters the room, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “This is nice,” she comments, gaze lingering on the tasteful décor and the large, comfortable-looking bed.

Joel hands her a drink he’s liberated from the minibar, “I thought we needed it after today.”

She clinks her glass to his and they each take a long drink before she comfortably settles herself into the cushions of the plush couch.

Tess has a large map of the US that she always keeps tucked in the car. When he first saw it, he couldn’t quite understand the point of it – there were only a few red marks in those days. Over two years on, red dots are scattered across the country, at least one per state barring Alaska and Hawaii. A map of every job they’ve ever taken. She lays the map out on the table and with her marker pen she carefully marks on the approximate location of where they’ve been today.

Joel doubts he would ever have seen as much of the country if he hadn’t made that decision to join Tess.

“Running out of places to go, Tess.” He comments, sitting down next to her.

“Not quite,” she replies drily, “jobs on the other hand? We’re starting to run out of those.”

“Oh?” He hasn’t noticed a decline, but Tess has always handled that part of the business.

“Yeah.” She sets down the map and leans back into the seat, picking up her glass and taking a sip. “I feel like we’ve cleared most of the genuine hauntings, everything that’s left is bored homeowners desperately hoping noises in the night will be something exciting they can talk about at dinner.”

A pang of anxiety twists his stomach. “What does that mean for us?”

He knows that for Tess the prospect of finding a real ghost makes all the false hauntings bearable, but if she doesn’t believe they will find more, will she still be willing to travel the country with him or will she give up the work entirely? Settle down somewhere and meet someone that will take the place Joel has in her life? A real partner not just a work one.

Joel can cope with Tess not returning his unspoken feelings, can cope with her introducing him to women she thinks he might like. He can deal with all that because at the end of the day, she is still there with him. Other men have expressed interest in her before, often side-eying him and his glares but encouraged by the lack of claim. A few women as well. Tess turns them all away with the same bemused smile. He would have assumed she had no interest in love or sex if he hadn’t caught the way she sometimes looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Attraction if nothing else. He isn’t blind to the effect he has on some women – has taken full advantage of in the past, before he met her, before he lost Sarah. What he’s not sure he can cope with is if Tess decides to leave him. He can’t go back to the way things were – living in an empty house surrounded by Sarah’s memories.

“Hey,” his distress has not gone unnoticed. Tess crowds into his personal space, until all he can see is her worried expression, “it’s alright. We’re going to be fine.”  

Tess doesn’t make a habit of lying to him, so the words are enough to calm him.

“But if there aren’t any worthwhile jobs…?”

“No worthwhile jobs here,” Tess corrects lightly. Despite her previous reassuring words, he detects a trace of nervousness in her demeanour. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while,” she confesses, “but I couldn’t find a good way to bring up the subject.”

Joel frowns, wondering what she has been keeping from him. “You don’t normally have trouble speaking to me.”

“I’m not normally worried about you saying no.” Tess retorts, before reaching out to clasp his hand. He runs a thumb across her wrist, feels the way her pulse is faster than usual. “There’s a group in Europe,” she says eventually, “they’re well-funded and they want to hire me to do what we’ve done here over there.” She squeezes his hand lightly. “I told them I couldn’t go unless they hired you as well.”

“Europe?” He can’t even picture it; he’s never left the US before.

“Yeah,” her eyes search him, trying to work out whether his reaction is a good one, “it would be a big change. New cities, new countries, different foods and languages.”

“And you want me to come with you?”

Tess laughs at the surprise in his voice. “Of course I do. What would I do without you?” Then, with a trace of uncertainty. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I go where you go.” It’s that simple. It’s always been that simple.

Tess smiles widely and it’s like the sun has come out from behind a cloud. She scrambles up to stand. “I got us a bottle of champagne to celebrate if you said yes. It’s in the car, I’ll go get it.”

Joel catches her wrist, tugs her back down onto the couch. “Leave it for today, we can drink it tomorrow.” He doesn’t want her out of his sight for even a moment right now. “Where are we going first?”

“I think they said Belgium,” Tess tucks herself into his side and Joel allows himself to wrap an arm around her shoulders, “I told them twentieth century battlefields would be a good place to look for souls.”

“Why twentieth century specifically?”

Under his arm he feels Tess tense slightly, as though she had accidentally let something slip she hadn’t intended to. “More recent battle sites, I mean.” She amends. “Older ghosts have usually already been found and sent away.”

“By other people like you?”

Tess hums noncommittally and changes the subject so quickly that it nearly makes his head spin. “Hey, if we’re lucky we’ll find you some cute French or Belgian woman along the way.” She says, not noticing how he immediately stiffens with discomfort. “You haven’t liked anyone I’ve found you here, we might have better luck somewhere else.”

By the time the next New Year’s Eve rolled around, Joel had a better grasp on his feelings for Tess but no better idea on what to do about them. Unfortunately by this point, she was fully into the swing of trying to set him up with someone and he spent most of his brother’s New Year’s Eve party, hiding from or rejecting the women Tess or Tommy sent in his direction.

“You’re so grumpy.” Tess complained, tipsier than she had been the previous year. “You’re not going to find anyone to kiss at midnight at this rate.” Joel steadied her, worried she might trip in the too-high-heels Tommy’s current girlfriend had insisted she wear.

“Maybe you should worry more about finding yourself a partner than finding me one?”

“I already have a partner.” Tess told him slowly, as though he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You do?” He tampered down an irrational bit of jealously. He had been watching her all night, he would have noticed if she had found someone else.

“You’re my partner.” She said very seriously.

Joel laughed, partly relieved and partly out of amusement. “I meant for midnight.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” She doesn’t sound especially enthused.

Around them the countdown starts up. A few feet away Tommy and a woman that Joel is pretty sure isn’t the girlfriend that loaned Tess the deathtraps on her feet have gotten started early.

Raising his voice so she can hear him over the loud chanting, he points out, “Well if you don’t have any better options, we could always just do what we did last year?”

Tess brightened and nodded, tugging him down for another far-too-brief kiss as the countdown hit zero.

Something in Joel finally snaps. “I don’t want some French or Belgian woman.” Unable to continue sitting next to her when she’s spouting off such nonsense, he rises to his feet and puts some distance between them.

“Alright,” Tess makes a face, still on the couch, “there’s plenty of other countries, I’m sure eventually we’ll find someone-”

“Tess, can you please just stop,” Joel interrupts her without a care, “I don’t want any of these women you keep trying to throw at me, can you please just leave it?”

“Is it that they’re women?” Tess asks uncertainly, decidedly not just leaving it like he had asked her to. She stands as well, moving to follow him to the other side of the room where he had retreated to. “I’m sorry, I asked Tommy, and he said you definitely weren’t gay so I just assumed-”

“I’m not gay!” He interrupts her again, trying to ignore the way his ears were starting to burn because when in God’s name had she had the chance to ask Tommy about that and what the fuck had Tommy said to her in response? “Just leave it, Tess.”

“But why?” She looks so baffled. “Surely you don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life?”

“Do you really not know the reason?” Joel asks her incredulously.

“No!”

“I don’t want any of them because I want you!” He wishes he could take back the words the instant he says them, but it’s too late for that.

Tess stares at him blankly for a while, mouth opening and shutting like a fish. “You do?” She sounds so confused, as though the notion had never crossed her mind before. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” He repeats in disbelief. A sudden burst of annoyance cuts through any regret he feels about finally speaking up, so stunned that this beautiful, brilliant woman in front of him could be so stupid. “Yes, I’m fucking sure. This isn’t something I’ve just realised today, Tess, I’ve known since New Year’s day, two years ago.”

“Oh.” He’s rendered her speechless again. “But you’ve never… you’ve never…”

“I didn’t want to ruin things between us.” Joel admits. “I know you don’t feel the same. I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything to change from this.”

There’s a long silence as Tess digests his words, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “Joel, we can’t.”

“I know.” He still feels his heart sink, any last hopes dashed like a ship crashing into the rocks and sinking into the depths. He looks away from her and swallows the rest of his drink down in a few deep gulps, hoping the numbing effect of the alcohol will ease the pain in his chest.

“It’s not that I don’t feel the same-” Tess begins to say and this time when Joel interrupts her for a third time, it isn’t out of frustration but because he doesn’t have a care for the rest of her sentence, only a care to better understand the few words she has managed to say. Hope arises again from the depths. He hadn’t dared to think that she might return his feelings.

“But how do you feel?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” It’s the only thing that matters. “If you tell me, you’ve never wanted anything more from me than friendship, I’ll drop the subject and never bring it up again.” He promises. “We can go to Europe and pretend we’ve never had this conversation.”

Tess isn’t good at lying to him, he sees her struggle with it and when she’s unable to either speak a lie or say the truth she remains silent.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she says eventually, stepping away from him, “I won’t be around forever, and you deserve someone who can be there for you permanently. I can’t be that.”

“Are you dying?” It’s the only explanation that he can think of, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. Tess has always seemed so strong. She doesn’t look unwell, but not every sickness is easily visible. They aren’t always together; she could be regularly visiting doctors without him knowing anything about it.

“No. It’s not that.” Tess denies immediately, much to his relief. “But our arrangement cannot last forever. One day, I don’t know when, I’m going to have to leave and I won’t be able to come back. I would like to see you settled and happy before then, but it can’t be with me.”

“Then I don’t want it.” It’s as simple as that and then an idea occurs to him. He doesn’t know what is holding Tess back, what reason there is that she’s so certain that one day she will have to leave. He doesn’t doubt she’s telling the truth, just as he also knows that no matter how much he presses she won’t give him the reason for it. But does it really matter? “What if I said it would be enough?”

Tess’s brow creases in confusion. “What would be enough?”

“Whatever you’re willing to give me.” Tess looks stunned and he takes the opportunity to press forward and grasp one of her hands in his. “I want you, Tessa.” He repeats. “I don’t want to have to book two separate rooms or get twin beds again; I don’t want to kiss anyone else on New Year’s Eve, or at any other time for that matter. I don’t want to go through any of this if you aren’t there next to me. All I want is you, for however long I can have you. Whether it’s for a day, a week or a decade. It’s enough.”

“It is?” He’s used to her always appearing confident and sure of herself, but for once she looks vulnerable and uncertain.

Confident that she won’t retreat again, Joel takes another small step forward. “It is.”

Tess exhales a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” There’s a ghost of a smile on her face now.

“I gave that big speech and that’s all you’re going to say?”

He doesn’t intend to let her get away with it. If he’s going to lay all his cards on the table, she needs to as well.

“Well I’m no good at speeches,” Tess says, closing the distance between them so they’re chest to chest, “so I hope this is sufficient.”

She leans up, cups his face in his hands and pulls him down so she can press her lips to his. The kiss is a lingering one, not brief or chaste like the previous two they have shared. Joel kisses her back and decides that yes, it is sufficient.

The next morning, Joel wakes to the smell of fresh coffee and the sight of a takeout cup of coffee on his bedside table and for a moment he thinks the whole thing was just a dream.

Tess stops what she’s doing when she sees he’s awake, leans over and presses her lips to his. “Morning.” She says when they part. Then she shrieks in surprise when Joel decides she is much too far away and he drags her back into the bed, pulling her to join him under the sheets.

When Tess steps out to call their next client to confirm locations and their expected time of arrival, he takes out their laptop and logs into their joint account. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he sees the amount available – it’s healthier than expected considering how much they had shelled out on the hotel. He browses the recent transactions and an explanation becomes clear – a payment into the account with the reference ‘Found moonshine and raccoons’.

He closes the laptop and goes to tell Tess the good news. Things were looking up and for the first time in a long time, he’s looking forward to what the future holds for them both.