Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rituals. There’s something about the ritual of lifting weights that settles into Jammer’s bones. It’s rich and bracing-- a fall day breaking through the heat of summer. He’s an athlete, so he does it all. Running. Weights. Agility drills. Yoga.

It's the weights that hit the best. The gym is mostly empty, but the clang and whir of equipment echoes. Evan’s on the bench and Jammer is spotting him. “You got it, you got it.” He’s got five more and then rack-up.

Only Evan doesn’t stop when his rep is done. He does this frequently, pushing past gain and into pain. He’s got a stubborn look on his face, daring Jammer to say something about it.

He doesn’t. 

Jammer’s concentration sharpens though, hands prepared to snag the weights if Evan’s muscles start to give. They don’t, of course. Evan’s wearing a sweaty tanktop and Jammer’s got a clear line of sight to the way his muscles ripple with each press. The tips of antlers peek from under the black fabric.

It’s hard not to appreciate the way Evan has filled out since they’d first met. 

Jammer used to push those thoughts away. Today, he lets his gaze sweep over Evan’s body. 

Growing up with years of toxic masculinity on the court and in the locker room had built in him a wall he dared not breach. Frankly, there wasn’t anyone worth breaching it for. Maybe. Until now.

Jammer doesn’t really think of himself as gay or straight. He’s felt like everything in between from one day to the next since he was sixteen. Even before Gowpenny. Sex isn’t something he spends a lot of time thinking about. It’s fun, sure--but it’s messy and emotions get knotted up inside him. Things get weird and he ends up confused and hurt. Every time.

He thinks it would be different with Evan. Better.

“You wanna talk about it?” He broaches casually another ten minutes later. 

If anything, Evan pushes even harder. “Just gotta.. get it out of my…system.”

“‘It’ being…?”

He gets a grunt in response. 

“I know you didn’t fly across the Atlantic just to work on your physique.”

“I came to see you.” Another grunt. “I missed you.”

Evan has always been free with his affections when it came to the Pilot Program. Like he was overflowing with it and needed to release the floodgates. Sometimes Jammer fears he’ll turn that love on someone outside their group. Someone who wouldn’t understand the preciousness of it. Someone that would take advantage. Someone that would turn it against him. 

Worst of all, someone who would return that love in all its magnitude.

An acrid taste fills his mouth when he acknowledges the possessive edge creeping into his thoughts. 

“I’m flying back to England next week, bro. C’mon.”

“Three days.”

“That’s still next week,” Jammer grumbles. “I don’t wanna guess why you came here.”

“Then don’t. I said what I said.”

Jammer rolls his eyes. “Not reassuring.”

“I’m okay.”

“Except you say that even when you aren’t.”

Evan pushes up one last time and racks the bar. He takes a few moments to regain his breath before sitting up and using the hem of his tanktop to wipe his face. 

Jammer swallows, throat dry. He should look away, but the sweat tracing Evan’s ribs is a road map to every thought he’s meant to keep locked down.

He wants to lick his abdomen.

“I mean it,” he grabs his water bottle. “There’s nothing wrong except the Kelmp of it all.”

Some of Jammer’s tension bleeds away. There’s no existential threat. No danger that Evan was hiding just to keep Jammer’s mind at ease. “The Kelmp Of It All can do pretty much anything.”

Evan chuckles, “You would say that.”

“We all say it, dude. To your face. Not our fault you don’t listen.” He jerks his chin toward the locker room. 

“Yeah,” Evan sighs and heads off with him. His shoulders slightly more relaxed.

“And what about your family?” one of Jammer’s cousins asks Evan, the question flung casually across lawn chairs and paper plates.

“No. They’re not magical.” Evan takes a long draw from a beer bottle. 

It's a summer night and though it’s late there’s still light. The crowd at the BBQ (and it was a crowd, no matter that his mom had said ‘just family’) is starting to thin. Children grow tired and friends and family slowly trickle away.

Jammer’s in jovial conversation with his sister’s boyfriend and another cousin about the White Socks eight-game streak. He’s not close enough to overhear Evan’s conversation. It happens anyway. 

“Huh. Is that awkward?” 

Evan has gotten adept at diverting questions with insistent politeness. So it’s surprising to hear the hollowness in his response. “Never met ‘em.”

“Oh! I was adopted too!” K’shawna bounces a bit on her toes in a way that Jammer knows is meant to draw Evan’s eyes. 

Mid-conversation about defense stats, Jammer felt the words slice through the air. 

“I wasn’t adopted.”

Her brows furrow for a second, trying to imagine how that could be. She opens her mouth to continue with more dogged and invasive questions and Jammer’s proud of himself for not following the urge to intervene. He keeps his face neutral. Evan can handle himself. He knows that.

Still, something tightens fractionally in his chest.

An aunt loops her arm through his. “Whitney, you have to come say goodbye to Lena and Jakob. They’re moving down south and we wont be seeing them for forever.” She leans in conspiratorily, “They’re having a baby! We’re all flying down for the baby shower in a month. You should come!”

Aunt Monika’s enthusiasm reminds him a little of Sam.

He makes polite conversation and hearty farewells. He loves these people bone deep. A few more come to say goodbye. Once free, he begins cleanup for his mom. Evan isn’t outside anymore. It’s not like him not to spring at the first chance to be helpful.

He imagines throwing a sock in the air.

There was no need to do magic about it, in the end. Jammer finds him on the living room couch. Evan is hunched over, both hands on his head. Jammer takes a moment to let that sink in.

“Aight.” He takes Evan’s wrist and tugs. “Let’s go walk it off.”

Evan comes, slow like molasses, to his feet. 

For Jammer it was a twitch of the thumb to run a sweeper spell over Evan. No magic in effect here. Good.

The air is thick and sticky from the day’s heat even as the sun recedes behind the skyline. They walk for a few blocks without saying anything. When Evan’s gait aligns with his Jammer speaks. “I never should have dragged you there. It was short notice and too many people.”

“I was honored to be invited.”

“As you should be,” Jammer affirmed. “Doesn’t mean we had to go. I see those people all the damn time.”

“I didn’t say goodbye to your mom.”

“Me neither. She’ll get over it. I’ll tell her I gotta headache or somethin'"

"I’ll send her flowers.”

“Naw, man. You don’t have to do that.” It's endearing that he thinks flowers are the appropriate apology in this situation. His mom would probably swoon over that.

“You have a great family.”

“Yes.” Jammer wasn’t going to deny it. Like any close knit family there was drama and feuds and scandals. Sickness and health and bankruptcy and wealth (trending toward bankruptcy). People came and went, through marriage and divorce and death and birth, but no one was ever unloved.

He remembers Evan wishing Jammer’s family would adopt him and his heart clenches.

“Gettin’ tired of the weddings and funerals though. Everyone’s always doing something I gotta wear a suit for.”

“There’s gotta be a jersey version of a suit right?” 

“I looked. Fucking nothing.”

Evan shoves his hands in his pockets as they turn from the residential streets onto an arterial. They lapse into silence and Jammer’s okay with that. Sometimes a person just needed to know a friend was nearby.

“I think I have a sister.”

The revelation feels explosive.

But Jammer just says, “That’s cool.”

Evan chokes on a laugh-- and it turns, before it’s done, into a half-formed sob. 

Jammer doesn’t flinch, but he slows his pace a little, like he can make space for the sound. He doesn’t say anything yet. Too many thoughts jostle for priority. The loudest screams: Just listen, asshole!. 

“Cool,” he says again, because it was something neutral.

Evan picks up his composure like breadcrumbs as they walk.

“I-- I figured it out Tuesday.” He wipes roughly at his eyes. 

Just the day before he’d arrived on Jammer’s doorstep with only a few hours' warning and no real explanation.

“And you came here to see her?” Jammer concludes, a gentle probe into a wound he knows is fresh.

“No man, I came here to see you.”

Jammer files that away to examine later.

“Sam and K?”

“They don’t know. I’m not even sure K notices I’m missing.”

Oh, K for sure noticed. The space where Evan had been would be a vacuum that even K would feel.

“How did you find out?”

It all comes spilling out and Evan trips over his words. “I started looking into the cult. I wanted to know if they were still active. Try to figure out their purpose. What were they trying to do? If I should find a way to stop them. They could still be out there...”

“I kept coming across this term, deuteron umbra. It was mentioned over and over again, always near the name they gave to me. The Vessel. But not nearly as prevalent.”

Jammer hates that name. Vessel. As if Evan is nothing more than something to hold a power he does not want. 

“I could have asked K for help.” The but I didn’t, goes unsaid.

“I didn’t--I didn’t know what it meant for a long time. I think the cult dissolved or went underground or something after my father went to the Dark Forest. The records aren’t clear about anything. I can’t figure out where any of them have gone.” His words are strained, like Evan can’t get enough air. “I don’t remember any names. I was too young to--”

The street gets busier as they continue. Music throbs from the open doors of a club. People their age spill out into the street singing laughter and wearing little in the oppressive summer heat. Lively in a way that’s juxtaposed by Evan’s suffering.

“Deuteron. Umbra.” His voice is unsteady. “It’s a mix of latin and greek. I should have figured it out sooner. Maybe I tried not to understand. I wish I didn’t. Deuteron. Greek, for ‘second.’ And Umbra… its latin for ‘shadow.’.” He chokes on the last word. “They made another like me. A back-up.”

Jammer doesn’t have to think. He wraps an arm around Evan’s shoulders, pulling him in tight as they continue walking. Tight enough to hold him together when Jammer thinks he might fall apart. His wings flare, an impotent shield against the forces that have always tried to break Evan.

There are horrifying implications that run through Jammer’s mind. Things Evan has probably already considered, always two steps ahead. He gets it now. Why Sam and K don’t yet know. Why Evan has come. Why he couldn’t wait the three days until Jammer landed at Heathrow.

They grab a bus the rest of the way to Jammer’s closet-sized apartment. Evan is silent and brooding in a way that isn’t sexy. He sits at the tiny table Jammer managed to squeeze into the space and Jammer pushes a glass of rum and coke toward Evan. “Take the edge off.”

Evan nods and swallows half at once. The glass rattles when he puts it down.

Jammer takes a hard veer into the concrete as he sits down. “Sam said you and K had finished recon at the bank. Anything interesting?”

“Interesting,” Evan echos, voice flat. “The magical signatures are a mess. Layers of broken redundancy. The wards are decaying. All the safety mechanisms are corroded. It’s like dynamite down there.”

Redundancy takes on a new, horrifying meaning.

“K found scraps of the original building schematics. We think we know where to go. Sam’s worried that there will be dragons trapped there. Maybe Alexis, even. We haven’t been able to track her down since the collapse.”

“Mmm,” Jammer takes a sip from his own glass. He can feel the weight of everything unsaid and see that shadows dance at the edge of Evan’s eyes. He can’t remember the last time he saw shadows like that. Not since Gowpenny.

“There’s not insignificant risk,” Evan continues. It’s like he’s reading from a report. “Sam wants to find another way. I just don’t see one. No one’s using that gold and we need money to do anything.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me.” 

Evan grasps his meaning and for a moment meets his eyes. The depth of sadness there is hard to behold.

Jammer takes another, longer drink from his glass and flutters his wings as if to stretch out. They caress Evan’s face briefly.

The silence stretches out, comfortable in the way of two people who have been through the fire together. Evan finishes his drink and leans his forearms on the table, eyes fixed on the laminate. “What I found is in a coded dialect. A journal or something. Some books too. The books, when they mention it at all, is just-- base religious dogma and ritual instruction. The-- she’s five or six years younger than me. A different mother, I think.” 

Anger overcomes him like a cloak. Jammer’s mind fills with a storm of devastating imagery. Evan as a child, trusting and loving. A tiny weapon forged by evil. Small Evan wearing a Fantastic Four t-shirt three sizes too big and covered in blood that isn’t his. Evan running. Scrounging in dumpsters for food. Cold and small and barely living. He wants to rage at the injustice. Make someone pay.

Instead he’s a silent anchor while the world Evan has so painstakingly built on the foundation of their found family is shaken. Collapse isn’t out of the question.

His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I don’t remember her.”

Jammer’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

“D’you know her name?”

All his pain and hope is layered into a single word: “Sarah.”

Chapter Text

Every time (every single damn time) Evan’s gone, Sam thinks of the Qohlye’s words and worries he wont come back. She’s made her home Evan’s home and home is supposed to be the place he comes back to. 

When Evan had left suddenly for Chicago it was clear that something had gotten under his skin. And deeply. But he’d texted her regularly while he was gone and he was with Jammer the whole time and so nothing too terrible could have happened. So she’d thought at the time.

He and Jammer landed late in the night. Once bags have been dropped and hugs exchanged, K joined them at the house from her trailer out back, loaded with rice crispy treats. Pizza was ordered and the normal pleasantries ensued. Sam and K kept the conversation flowing with easy familiarity and barely contained enthusiasm, respectively. They talked about Sam’s sign-off on Britain’s Got Talent for the summer break. Made plans to get to work after brunch the next day. Talked about the latest gadget K had created for lock-picking. Celebrated Jammer’s finals being over.

It has all the hallmarks of normalcy.

Except for the tension around Evan’s eyes and the way Jammer is always just a few feet closer to Evan than he usually would be. She briefly wondered if something had happened between them, but it didn’t really matter if it had.

When nothing but greasy pizza boxes remain they go their separate ways. Jammer to Evan’s room, K back to the dragon wagon, Sam to her own room. Evan would sleep on the couch tonight. 

She takes care when she unwinds for the night. Stripping away make-up and wig and all the glamour that has held her up through the day. A baring of herself to the one person who accepted her the way she truly was. 

The two story house is silent and dark when she goes downstairs. Evan looks impossibly small on the couch, lit by the blue-gray light of a muted television he’s not watching. The shadows around him are deeper. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes. Blanket and pillow are still stacked on the arm of the couch. 

She wets her lips and quietly stands in front of Evan. A held breath escapes him and Sam knows-- knows that she needs to be here. Nudging his knees apart, she makes deliberate claim to a space she desperately wants to own. She wraps both arms around his 6’1 frame and holds him with all the fierceness of a lioness. 

“You are so soft,” he rasps, his face is hot against her collarbone.

The scent of him—sweat, ozone, and that metallic tang of his magic—is a powerful, sharp hit to her senses.

She exhales softly, her hand gentle as she strokes the nape of his neck. His tension bleeds away in fits and starts and finally his breath hitches as if he’s about to speak. 

“Shhh. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter right now. You don’t have to explain.”

Evan finally, truly hugs her back, squeezing her harder and with more desperation than he would have dared if he was in control. They stay like that for a very long time.

When Sam wakes the next morning, Evan is still in her arms and they’re both swallowed by her king sized bed with clouds of blankets and pillows. It’s hot and stifling, but she wouldn’t let go even if the fires of hell were licking at the bed. His jeans scratch where their legs are wound together. His shirt is gone and the heat pouring off his body feels reckless. 

She’s had dreams about this. Of Evan in her bed and wearing even less. His arm is a solid, heavy weight draped over her waist. The intimacy, stolen while he’s lost in sleep, feels undeserved.

She makes no move to disturb him.

It takes a beat for Sam to notice T2 sitting on his favorite pillow. His eyes are reproachful and Sam mouths a defensive “What?”

The pig tips his chin up as if saying: You know what.

“Go away,” she mouths back. 

He lingers a moment before jumping off the bed. 

Evan’s head is pillowed on her breast and it’s too easy to graze her fingers over his scalp. He still keeps it shaved and the fuzz is incredibly soft. The quiet passes and she finally starts to wonder if she should wake him. She hears the shower go on from down the hall. They should get up before anyone notices the abandoned blankets obviously not slept in. She wouldn’t mind, but Evan probably would.

Sam tugs gently on his ear and Evan startles awake, zero-to-sixty in a heartbeat. She watches the emotions shift over his face. Instant vigilance, eyes wide and taking in the location. Relief that he was safe. Shame as he realizes where he is. He releases her like she’s a live wire.

She squeezes the back of his neck. A warning. It’s not going down like that, Kelmp.

He puts his head back down, more shoulder than breast, but she’ll take it.

“Hi Sam,” he says roughly.

“Hi Evan,” she strokes the soft place behind his ear with her thumb. He shudders. 

“You wanna to talk about it?” She is always straightforward with him. 

“I think-- yeah,” his voice is like gravel. “I’m going to need your help. And K’s. I should wait until they’re up.”

“Hint, please?”

“A few days ago I figured out I have a sister.”

Possibilities had played tag in her mind all night. Maybe his demons were returning? Or something was wrong with his Shadow. Or he’d killed someone. That Evan had family out in the world hadn’t once crossed her mind.

She’s going to love you.

That first thought was quickly drowned out by others and she says, somewhat uselessly, “Are you okay?”

He laughs in a way she hasn’t heard in a long time. Strangled. Scared. Spinning out.

“Dumb question.” She resets. “If I know you--and I think I do--as much as you’ll let me. If I know you-- well, no, I’m not going to tell you how you feel. Rude. I just think… your mind can be a scary place sometimes. Don’t let the thoughts get the best of you, Evan. There’s time to figure this out. Goathouse.”

Girded, he draws away to flash her the goat horns and a rueful smile. “Goathouse.” 

She grins and signs it back. “Now get up,” she smacks his hip. “Jammer’s going to think we’re fucking.”

Evan trips over the nothing on her floor.

Brunch is not a drawn out affair. Sam whips up eggs, hashbrows and bacon. K makes toast. The meal was mostly quiet, by silent agreement there was no “work” done anywhere in the house except for the giant dining room table in the next room. 

K shoves the last bite of toast past their lips and starts clearing the plate. “Meet you in there.”

“Right behind you,” Jammer agrees.

Evan rubs at the back of his neck and then looks at the half-eaten food on his plate as if it’s a puzzle he can’t solve. “It doesn’t have to be now,” she reminds him. “You can tell us whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

It’s not up to her to tell him he’s not.

K is already on her computer, powering up additional screens. Cramped on the table are stacks of books and papers, old magic materials K hasn’t yet gotten to scanning. “Your suggestion to look at more modern records was so right on, Jammer. The old building schematics are long gone, but some idiot copied them by hand. For fun. Fucking weirdo collected magic blueprints. Who is that into architecture, y’know?”

The screen is suddenly filled with a three dimensional map, one K can use a single finger to rotate. “Sick.”

“We’re gonna kick this bank’s ass.”

Sam enjoyed K's unbridled enthusiasm, a familiar smile on her lips, and cupped her mug. Evan joined them a few minutes later, a cup of coffee held like a shield against his chest. 

“K, before we get going, let’s hit pause on Operation Get Rich or Die Trying,” Jammer suggests. “We’ll come back to it, but Evan’s got something else.”

“It can wait.” Evan is quick to offer. ”We have work to--”

“It can’t.” A command, or something close to it.

Evan clears his throat and looks at K, a bit sheepish that she was going to be the last to know. “I’ve been doing some independent research on the cult I was born to. I found a name. They call themselves the Sunless. They had a deep-seated obsession with anti-light or dark energy. Some shit.” A pause, “I’m pretty sure I have a sister.”

“Ohmigod, Evan, that’s great!” As usual, K’s enthusiasm consumes their whole body. Sam and Jammer flinch and K catches on. “Oh…” she settles into her chair. “Oh.”

Evan isn’t phased by her reaction and becomes all business. He pulls a few books from his bag and a painfully thin manilla folder. “Her name is Sarah.” He passes K a birth certificate. “Kelmp isn’t her last name anymore. I got my hands on some writings about the cult doctrine and then a journal from one of the cult’s secretaries. It’s…she..” He has to recenter himself. “She’s seventeen now.”

“A kid,” Sam breathes. Evan’s age when they’d met.

“I don’t know anything else. Not about her.” He still doesn’t sit, but leans over Sam to open the notebook he’d deposited on the table. Its leather is cracked and it looked as though it’d been dropped in a puddle at one point in its distant past. There are post-it notes marking pages and Evan flips to one, and then hands it to Sam. K leans to read over her shoulder. 

“I don’t understand. This isn’t anything we can read.” 

“It’s coded. I worked out bits and pieces.” Evan is short and brisk. “This notebook, best I can work out, is a diary.”

“Wait,” K leans forward, “This symbol here.. It looks like a stylized ghost--oh, or a shadow. And…these, these look celestial.”

“The dogma is plain ol’ devil worship. Nothing fun or sexy there.” He hesitates and then corrects himself, “I’m jumping to conclusions. I’ve found two books, a diary I can’t read, and a birth certificate. I don’t know shit. Maybe they all drank the kool-aid and everyone’s dead. Maybe they’re the MENSA Committee of Devil Worship and we’re all currently succumbing to our own personal hell this very minute.”

A beat.

“Tell them about the dueta neuta.”

Evan shoots Jammer a look that says: I see what you did there. It’s stupid endearing.

“The deuteron umbra. I’ve marked it up in the notes. It’s written in there a dozen times. Always near mine, but with much less frequency.”

Sam carefully turns pages, the post-its are neatly labeled with V where the word Vessel appeared and DU for deuteron umbra. The rest of it looked like gibberish, a mish-mash of characters arranged in almost familiar sounding words. She wondered if she could spell her dyslexia to work in reverse to make sense of the mess of familiar characters in an unfamiliar order. 

“She’s like me. The words translate to ‘second shadow’.”

“A waste of a perfectly good name, right there.”

“The books only mention it briefly. But they say enough for me to understand she was meant to be a back up. If I failed as a Vessel they would have another chance.”

“Failed, like.. If you died or something?” K’s digital eye is scanning the page with robotic precision. Maybe she was downloading it. 

“Unclear what failure meant. Death would certainly count. I’m also not sure that I wasn’t a failure.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam already knows. Evan’s mind will always go to the worst case scenario first and she follows right behind.

“Maybe I was the way I was because it failed with me. The demon possession or whatever didn’t take like they wanted it to. Like that’s the reason they didn’t keep me. Why things just happened around me-- like the voo-doo or whatever was corrupted.” 

Sam hears it—the pause too long-- like Evan’s weighing every word before he says it. Like the words will cost him something.

Evan says, “She could be their Vessel. And I was just a mistake they made along the way.”

There’s a lump in Sam’s throat at the way he phrases it.

“If being a mistake means you’re here with us, then shit, man. I’ll take a dozen.”

“Yeah, don’t say it like you wanted to live in hell and be Satan’s bitch.”

Sam watches him inhale through his nose and out through his mouth. It wasn’t K’s flippancy that bothered him. It was the words he hadn’t yet said.

“If--the cult is still around it could be a problem.” Sam’s voice is thick. She says it so he doesn’t have to. “She could be dangerous. A threat we’ll have to do something about.”

Evan glances at Jammer and he leans back in his chair, expression stormy.  “That’s not how we do things.”

“That’s not how we do things.” Evan still hasn’t sat down. 

“This is a problem we’re going to solve together,” Sam interjects firmly and looks at Evan until he meets her eyes. “So let’s get started.”

K’s was back at her keyboard and a new screen appeared with a new directory pulled up. Her cursor was blinking. “We need a name.”

Jammer’s about to spit one out, undoubtedly genius, but Sam gets to it first. “Operation: Finding Sarah Connor.”

K keyed it in and the largest monitor changed from the bank map to display the directory rapidly populating file after file, her red eye glittered. “Already got the Bugs working on it. Give me a few  hours to scan the journal and we can start building a decoder.”

Jammer taps his index finger against his lips. “Stuff this weird is gonna live on paper. It’ll be  basements and libraries and shit right? Cults don’t leave a digital trail. I mean, I wouldn’t. Where did you find this stuff?”

“Basements and libraries.” Evan’s response is too quick.

“Right,” Jammer exhales. “Basements and libraries. K, you need time with the journal?

She thumbs through it carefully. “Three to eight hours.”

“Three to… eight?”

“Depends on the amount of water damage.”

“Then let’s divide and conquer. We need to know, one, if the Sunless still exist and two, what became of Sarah Kelmp after--” he pulls the birth certificate closer-- “November 22, 2009.”

Chapter Text

Hours later, K is still scanning pages of the notebook. They are perfectly positioned at the work table, a half squat in the chair, their red eye tracking lines of text robotically and their other unfocused and hazy. They’d once asked Teddy what they looked like when scanning and his description had made it sound terrifying. Their friends don’t seem bothered.

They’ve set Hedge Mice to scurry through the ugliest corners of the dark web while they did the boring work of scanning. Evan is across from them, broadening his search to papers and academic studies about cult behavior. A wild hope that maybe some researcher had come across the Sunless.

Their digital eye runs an unconscious surface scan of Evan’s frame--muscle tension, hydration levels, the subtle flex of his jaw. The biometrics are useless, but the sheer data of him is beautiful.

K feels a desperate urge to map the topology of his collarbone.

Sam was doing a deep dive into social media, but K could tell she felt a way about not contributing something more substantial. Her presence in the room did more than Sam could know. 

K also itches to do something more meaningful than the grunt work of a piece of office machinery. 

One of the Hedge Mice appears on a screen in the corner of their normal eye. He wore a blue shirt and a red pointed hat a la Cinderella, and waved a hand at her urgently. This was one that they’d set to find information on Sarah.

K disengages from the scan and stares at him for a moment and doesn’t click on his waiting hand. The animated mouse bounces impatiently. “Ohhhkay,” they click the button and he runs off into the distance and comes back with an indexed file. They select the link to SUMMARY. None of the red flags K programmed had triggered.

Name: Sarah Kortis - KELMP

Age: 17 years, 8 days, 22:02 hours

Phone: 

Instagram:

Tiktok:

Location: 555 61st Unit 401A Oakland, CA

Parents: Holly Kortis (ne Miller) (48), Chris Kortis (50) - Divorced

Adopted: 04/24/2011 

Siblings: None

School: Sister Martha Agnes Preparatory Academy

Grade: Senior

GPA: 3.89

Extracurriculars: Senior Varsity Volleyball, Student Council member, and Founding member, Birdwatching Club

College Applications: UCLA, Berkeley, University of California, Oakland Community College

Close Friends and Extended Family: 

…

K stops reading at “Founding Member, Birdwatching Club” and screams in delight. They cannot contain themself --feet kicking, cheering with both fists in a perfect imitation of an anime girl overcome with emotion.

Jammer jumps from his spot on the nearby couch where he may or may not have drifted off. “Jesus fuck, K--

“What is it?” Evan demands, “What did you find?”

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! She loves birds!” K keeps squealing. “Evan, she loves birds!”

“Birds?!” Sam echoes. 

Evan stumbles around the table to look at the screen. K beams as his face shifts from confusion to looking as if someone has hit him over the head with a frying pan. 

“Bird Club?” he mumbles, eyes unblinking at the dossier.

Sam is already pulling the social media up and K claps her hands again. “She loves birds, Evan!”

Evan sinks onto her abandoned chair. His hand hovers over the mouse but he doesn’t move it. He still looks stunned.

Jammer comes to stand behind him, both hands on Evan’s shoulders--leaning in with his weight. Grounding. “Birdwatching Club, huh? I do not know what that is.”

K’s eyes sting. Jammer knew just what to do. They want to laugh and scream and celebrate that Evan’s sister loves birds and Evan loves birds and they both love birds. But that’s not the friend Evan needs now. They worry sometimes that they might never be the kind of friend he needs.

Sam is bouncing on her heels, her phone out and socials pulled up. “Give me three minutes.”

“They’re in the dossier,” they nudge Evan’s hand away and go to the index for social media. K can’t help but grin. “Smart girl. She’s got a professional and a private persona online. Good for the college applications.” 

K hesitates over the Instagram link. “Evan, are you ready for this?” He looks so deeply confused that the world isn’t kicking him the balls for once that it’s almost too adorable for them to take. “Or it’ll be here waiting when you are.”

“I--” he clears his throat a few times and tries to act like this isn’t one of the most life altering moments of his life. “Y-yeah, sure. Uh.. I should at least see what she looks like. Right?”

“Which one?” 

“One of the public ones,” he finally blinks.

K chooses Instagram and the far left screen fills with a picture of a beautiful teenage girl. She’s slight of build with light brown hair and hazel eyes. She and Evan have the same distinct nose. K keeps scrolling and Sarah’s only in about half the images. There are lots of her dog, Pepper, some sort of terrier mutt with grey hair and a snaggle tooth and every now and then a picture of a bird she’d come across in her day-to-day. She tags every one with name, genus, and species.

“She’s so pretty.” Evan looks like he might shatter into pieces.

They spend the rest of the night looking at pictures and tiktoks, debate the wisdom of Sam Britain following a random teenage girl, and just how much privacy is too much to violate to make sure there was no taint of the cult still clinging to her.

The decoder takes longer than expected on the journal, it’s well into the next day and it’s still processing. The server misbehaves and keeps throwing processing errors, almost too excited to do its work. It kept providing partial and unverified updates, as if unable to contain itself. A direct reflection of how K has felt since Evan announced he might have a sister. 

The Pilot Program has to turn focus on the bank heist. Evan still looks like a confused puppy, and so they leave him behind with K when Sam and Jammer go to meet Sam’s contact, a banker who’d worked with Alexis before the collapse.

He’s had a night to sleep, so some of the daze has worn off, but they suspect his concentration is still fucked. K presses another coffee into his hand, despite it being well into the afternoon and he nearly spills it on himself. “Oh, hey--thanks. Thank you.”

“Thought you could use a refill.”

“Always,” he nods, but doesn’t go back to his screen. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Always,” they repeat back to him.

“You think she’s a minimal risk.”

“Not a question.”

He gives her a grumpy look and it’s so normal and so Evan that she forgets not to fall into his eyes.

“You have all the variables up here,” he taps his head. “What--what do the statistics say is the likeliest outcome from here?”

“That’s she’s going to love you.”

He slouches and drags a hand over his head. “That’s just what you want to happen.”

“You want me to do the math?” Maybe it was better this way. They didn’t have the emotional intelligence to explain that it was okay for him to have a little hope. “What are your parameters?” they ask instead of blurting something outrageous he wouldn’t take seriously.

“I need metrics.” He sounds unsure. “What’s the timeline on how long before I ruin her GPA with my existence?”

“That’s a dumb metric,” they pout. “You know statistics are only as good as the data we have to date. And we’ve got next to nothing.”

“Try?”

“Let me check the Sunless decryption first and factor that in.”

With some difficulty, they extract a summary of what they know so far. The journal is only two-thirds deciphered, but they’ve been able to extract a time frame. The book started in January of 2008 and was mostly full of ritual instruction interspersed with concerns about a digital infection, financial strain, and the author’s religious fervor for the demonic. Fervor that was measurably escalating over time. The decoder wasn’t complete, but to her best estimation, the entries end abruptly in early 2011.

“There’s a 1.8% chance that she’s involved with the cult in some way. I can break that down further.”

“Yes, please.”

“Chance that she’s cursed, corrupted, or otherwise under demonic influence: 0.01%. That kind of influence requires maintenance and reinforcement with whatever power they were wielding or it would have gone wild. Like it did for you.

“Contact with the cult or former members: 0.29%. I found three names of former members.They don’t intersect her social web. The dominant risk is 1.5%. Trauma-based memories that could lead to confusion and distress. She was just a little guy when she was adopted, so it’s pretty low.”

They take a breath and want to shake him into forced optimism, but they keep their answer firmly in the analytics of it all. “That’s all the catastrophic risk, Evan. Just 1.8%.”

“And the rest?”

“Full and loving acceptance: 4%. Non-zero, but unlikely.

“Total Rejection: 10%. You might not fit her image of a perfect long-lost sibling, or she resents you for not being in her life, or out of simple teenage angst. You probably wouldn’t hear from her for a while, years. Possibly never. 

“External Intervention: 14.1%. Her family intercedes and they do not approve or trust you. 

“There’s a 20.1% chance she wants you in her life, but it’s distant and awkward and takes a lot of vulnerability and effort.”

“What’s the last 50?” His voice cracks and K resists the urge to shower him with positive affirmations.

“Emotional paralysis. Likelihood 50%. Current state and probability will remain high because you don’t want a sister. Too hard.”

Evan starts in his seat, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Stay calm, they remind themselves. Evan needs them to stay level headed because he can’t. “I’m talking about the data and you being a giant scaredy cat. Variables for this scenario include ‘I’m a cursed demon boy’, ‘I have a scary shadow,’ ‘I’m awkward and bad to be around’, ‘I can live with regret’.”

“That’s not fair! I’m trying to protect her!”

“From yourself!” They raise their voice and then squeeze their eyes shut. Calm. Calmcallmcalm. “And I think there’s nothing about you that anyone needs protecting from. Your risk/benefit analysis is way off.”

“Oh, the violent murders don’t count, do they?” he shot back.

The air left the room. K had rejected that data from their analysis. Unintentionally. Because at his heart, Evan is good. “Incidence of violence--”

“Murder.”

“--violence were reactions to life-or-death stimuli and ingrained trauma.” They have to make an effort to keep their arguments clinical. This wasn’t in their nature. But it was in his. They double check their work. “Likelihood that Sarah presents such a threat is 0.81%. Likelihood violence from you would be required in her presence: 1.45%.”

“I don’t like it when you talk this way.”

K smiles, “Is it working?”

Evan furrows his brow before looking at them, eyes grave.  “Can I have a hug?”

They throw themselves fully into his lap. A necessary short circuit. K, inhales the scent of his skin and coffee and the honey sweetness of his arms around them. “I love you, y’know? It’s gonna work out. She’s going to love you too.”

They redo the math. Emotional Paralysis: 44%.

Robbing a bank turned out easier than most of their Scuppers games at Gowpenny. Once the money is secured and Jammer goes home. K and Evan spend three more weeks hunting down every fact and lie and disturbing detail about the cult. Evan is dogged in his pursuit of any of the living. K’s heart aches for him the day he leans back in his chair, staring numbly at the screen. They know he’s realized there is no closure to be had.

No justice. 

No revenge.

There’s only a scattering of grown children each trying to thread a life together.

“Evan?”

He leans his elbows on the table, his hands hiding his face. “I was really counting on there being something I could--”

“I know,” they don't need him to finish the thought. K wants to put a brave face on it and tell him it’s better this way. But they’re not sure saying so would help.

Years with the pilot program have dulled Evan’s pain. Sanded out the edges and made them a little more tolerable. None of it was gone, though. And now there was nowhere for it to go.

K, Jammer and Sam had talked it out already. If there were someone from whom to exact justice-- they’re not sure what Evan would do or if he would be able to live with it afterward. The best course of action is for the three of them to get there first. Blood on their hands was better than a single drop more on Evan’s. K’s glad it wasn’t coming to that. 

This was the better outcome. They don’t need to do the math on that.

Words have always gotten in the way between Evan and them. They would say the wrong thing and he would throw it in their face. It hasn’t been like that in a while. He’s kinder now and K’s learned better impulse control. They bicker now because it’s fun. A callback to shared teenage angst and puppy love. 

They’ve been spending a lot of time together on Finding Sarah Conner and Get Rich or Die Trying. K has been fighting her nature and hasn’t once tried to probe. They’re not like Sam, they don’t know the right spots to poke and K usually just make it worse. This feels like one of those moments they could make worse.

They rack their mind for safe options. Do you want to get drunk about it? Go dancing? Visit Jammer? We could fuck it out?

That last one was definitely not safe.

K pushes out of their chair. The move is abrupt, shattering the quiet. Evan flinches but doesn't lift his head. “We need to get out of here. Let's go running until we can’t feel our legs.”

Evan hesitates, the fight to get out of his head visible before a small, involuntary shudder runs through his shoulders. “Okay.” It’s a broken sound, but it’s a commitment. He stands and gives her a shadow of a smile. “You and me.”

Chapter Text

Evan tries really hard not to be a creep, but he thinks he’s getting close to that line. He dwells on the facts of Sarah’s life, his heart catching on her small victories and disappointments. There’s a rant about her parents divorce and Evan cries when he is blindsided by the vision of a life with her and two parents and a dog and a purpose he could label: Big Brother.

He only visits her public profiles and hasn’t looked at any of her friends and family. K has all that stuff wrapped up in a virtual binder should he ever want it, but there’s nothing there he needs to know.

What he wants to know he has to earn. 

Chat: HexAppeal
December 5, 2026

TheBear: Does this sound ok? “Hi Sarah, I’m a wizard living with friends in London for the past four years. I was born in Iowa and I’ve been getting into genealogy and I think I’m your brother.”

There’s a loud squeal from somewhere in the house.

K-pain: No!

J-pain: No!

Samshine: no! but we can fix it! ✨🛠️✨✨

K-pain: DM? Text? What’s your plan? 🤯🧐

TheBear: Nevermind.

December 7, 2026

The Bear: Hi Sarah, This is probably coming out of the pitchers box and I apologize for that. I recently discovered that we might be related. I think your dog is adorable.

J-pain: It’s left field, bro. There is no pitcher box. There’s a pitcher's mound and a bullpen.

TheBear: I thought the Bulls were a basketball team?

Evan glances up and sees Sam covering her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

TheBear: Hi Sarah, This is probably coming out of the bullpen and I apologize for that. I recently discovered that we might be related. I think your dog is adorable.

J-pain: Left field. The ball comes out of left field. We definitely covered this.

Samshine: Maybe drop the last line about the dog.

TheBear: Too creepy?

J-pain: Maybe?

K-pain: No! Pepper is so cute!! Definitely say so. 

December 11, 2026

TheBear: Hi Sarah. My name is Evan Kelmp. I’m reaching out to you because I think we may be siblings. I was in foster care and never knew my family. I hope to hear from you.”

J-pain: Not as creepy.

Samshine: what IS creepy is a message coming from an empty Insta account. got to fix that 🚩🚩🚩

TheBear: Not happening. 

K-pain: You gotta. It’s super creepy not to have an online presence. 🤡

Samshine: T2 and I can whip some together. just enough to remove the red flag of it all. it’ll just be pictures of us and stuff. no magic. promise. i have a million great pictures of you.

Samshine: K, can you forge dates on his account? roll them back to our Gowpenny year?

K-pain: Easy. 🔫🔫

TheBear: Does that count as lying?

Samshine: nope 💅

K-pain: nope 😇

J-pain: because…?

Samshine: nope

K-pain: nope

TheBear: [Image] Will you include this picture of a blackbird?

Evan hears a cheer from out in the garden. Followed by a loud “Shhhh!”

December 16, 2026
TO: Sam, Jammer, K
FROM: Evan
SUBJECT: This is dumb right

Dear Sarah,

I apologize that this is sudden and maybe unwelcome, but I thought it was time I introduced myself. My name is Evan Kelmp and I think I’m your brother.

I was born sometime in 2004, which is the best I can figure. There’s no paperwork until foster care started keeping records of me in 2012. I was doing some genealogy and found a link that led me to you.

If you want to reach out I would be grateful to have a sister, but I understand if that’s too much.

My contact information is below.

Have a nice day,
Evan Kelmp

December 16, 2026
TO: Evan, Jammer, K
FROM: Sam
SUBJECT: RE: This is NOT dumb right

Good start! But don’t start with apologies in the first line. Or not at all. Try not at all.

- S

December 16, 2026
TO: Evan, Sam, K
FROM: Jammer
SUBJECT: RE: RE:  This is NOT dumb right

And don’t lie about doing genealogy research.

December 16, 2026
TO: Evan, Sam, Jammer
FROM: K
SUBJECT: RE: RE:  RE: This is NOT dumb right

Say something about the birds!

December 17, 2026
TO: Jammer, Sam, K
FROM: Evan
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: This is NOT dumb right

Dear Sarah,

I want to introduce myself. My name is Evan Kelmp and I think I’m your brother.

I was born sometime in 2004, which is the best I can figure. There’s no paperwork until foster care started keeping records of me in 2012. I have been trying to find family and it’s led me to you. I also like birds.

If you want to reach out I would really like that, but I understand if that’s too much.

My contact information is below.

Have a nice day,
Evan Kelmp

December 17, 2026
TO: Jammer, Sam, K
FROM: Evan
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: This is NOT dumb right

Dear Sarah,

I want to introduce myself. My name is Evan Kelmp and I think I’m your brother. I grew up in foster care and have been trying to find family. Social media led me to you.

If you want to reach out I would really like that, but I understand if that’s too much. I apologize that this is sudden and maybe an unwelcome disturbance to your life. 

My contact information is below if you ever want to reach out. I’ve always wanted a sister.

Have a nice day,
Evan Kelmp

There’s a dramatic sigh from the kitchen he knows he’s meant to hear, followed by a clatter of pans.

December 18, 2026
TO: Jammer, Sam, K
FROM: Evan
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE:  RE:  RE:  RE: RE: This is NOT dumb right

Is “biological family” better than just “family?” - E

Dear Sarah,

I want to introduce myself. I grew up in foster care and have been trying to find my biological family. I think I might be your brother.

My contact information is below if you want to connect.

Have a nice day,
Evan Kelmp

PS: Your dog is really cute.

Chat: HexAppeal
December 19, 2026

TheBear: What if I hand write a letter instead?

Samshine: she's 17. she'll think you're a victorian ghost. 👻

TheBear: It’s more personal.

J-pain: Just send the email man.

December 22, 2026

TheBear: [image]

Samshine: literally unreadable babe

December 24, 2026

TheBear: [image]

K-pain: It IS legible this time…

Samshine: theres 3 pages???

TheBear: She should have all the facts first

K-pain: And didn’t we agree: no apologies?

J-pain: Roll it back, dawg 

December 30, 2026

TheBear: Is this ok? “Hey Sarah. You don’t know me, but I was born in foster care and I’ve been looking for family. I think we might be related. Siblings even. Reach out if you ever want to talk.”

K-pain: Are we back to a DM?

J-pain: At least the “have a nice day” is gone

TheBear: That was bad?

Samshine: You forgot to include your name, bud

January 2, 2027

TheBear: Final Answer? “Hey Sarah. My name is Evan Kelmp. I'm reaching out because I spent time looking for family and recently found evidence that we might be siblings. Reach out if you ever want to talk. No pressure either way."

Samshine: Final Answer.

J-pain: Final Answer. 🫡

K-pain: Are we SURE this doesn’t need emojis? 🥺

TheBear: yes

K-pain: Final Answer. 😭

Days later, Evan stares at the blinking cursor on his phone and the message waiting for him to hit send. It was perfect. No creepy catfish vibes, no desperation, no sad details of his sad life. No details at all, really. With a low pressure out. It was perfect. 

He. Just. Can’t. Do. It. He drops the phone to his chest and stares at the bedroom ceiling.

He tries out his best remaining argument: the girl was an ocean and a continent away, living her best life, and here he was about to turn it upside down to make himself feel better. 

Evan bites his thumbnail. He wants it to feel less like the hollow excuse it is. 

Jammer arrived for Sunday Roast on Saturday morning and it’s not lost on Evan why. He’s been delaying too long. 

Evan had told them he’d do it tonight. Out loud. So now he has to and early evening seems like the best time. A teenager would likely be awake on a Saturday morning by eleven. He doesn’t remember sleeping in that late, but he’s heard that’s a thing teenagers do. Maybe he’d give her another hour. Noon. Noon would be good.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he knows it’s Sam just by cadence. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Come in.”

They file in, one at a time: Sam, Jammer, K, all with identical expectant expressions. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Evan sits up, giving them an exasperated look. 

“Emotional Paralysis: 12%.” K announces like a direct challenge.

It’s lower than he expects.

“Are you sure you redid all the math?”

“Yes.” Nothing further from K. That was a bad sign.

“Well, math isn’t people,” He’s so tired of twisting himself into pretzels.

“We’re not doing this by text anymore.” Jammer tells him. “Spit it out. What is holding you back, man?”

Evan rubs his chest. “I don’t have any excuses you haven’t already heard before.”

“Oh, I have one!” Sam offers helpfully. Unhelpfully. “You think you’re protecting her from your Kelmpiness, but you’re really just robbing her of any choice in the matter.” 

“I am bad to be around.” It sounds like a plea, even to his own ears.

They’re arrayed against him, standing in a parabola around his bed. Three against one. In unison, they fold their arms and stare him down.

“You guys don’t count!”

They all shift their weight to the same side and arch an eyebrow. Mostly. K just squints.

“This--!,” Evan gestures at the three of them, “This is just creepy and weird and I don’t like it.”

Sam cracks a smile, but Jammer and K are stone-faced. No one looks like they’re going to move.

“I’m--I’m just going to wait until eight. It’ll be noon there. That’s a good time.”

A beat.

“Maybe one more edit? The opening…”

The three of them are silent and waiting. Sam’s got her face schooled back to the same unyielding expression of his other friends. Their silence is concrete and he’s not going to get past it.

He lifts his phone and looks down at the blinking cursor mocking his resolve--and then puts it down. He raises his eyes and searches their faces for a sign, any sign, of escape. A weak thread he can pull from one of them that will buy him an hour. A few more minutes.

There is nothing. Only unity.

Evan closes his eyes. He takes one ragged, quiet breath—the only thing that breaks the room's silence. “Fine.”

With his eyes squeezed shut, his thumb descends to tap the Send button. 

After a few heart-pounding moments, he opens his eyes to a bunch of grinning fools. 

K steps forward and retrieves the phone, checking the screen. “Done”, she confirms and tucks it away in one of their many utility pockets, shutting the door on his immediate anxiety.

“Alright. That’s it, mission accomplished.” Jammer announces.

Sam takes his hands and pulls him to his feet, beaming pride. “Okay! Now we drink! Jammer, alcohol.” She pokes her finger at Evan's chest, landing right on Tadeshcourts’s mark. “You. You’re off duty. So no tech, no anxiety, no pressure. You’re not allowed to think about this for the next twelve hours.” 

K throws a hug around Evan’s waist strong enough to set him off balance. “Should we go dancing? I think we should go dancing.”

Jammer hooks an arm around Evan’s shoulder, already pulling him out of the bedroom.

Evan looks down at the empty hand where his phone used to be. The monumental, terrifying work is done, and the intoxicating relief is dizzying. He has just thrown a lifetime of raw, desperate yearning across the ocean to a girl who loves birds. All that's left is the monumental, terrifying wait.

These fools--his fools-- will make sure he doesn’t endure it alone.

Epilogue

Five months later Sam, K, and Jammer load Evan onto a plane bound for California to meet Sarah and her family. Hours later they’re at a high end bar where it’s dark and easy for Sam to blend in with the croud. They’re drunk on mission success and three rounds of strong drinks. 

The words fall sudden and unbidden from K, their lips obscured by the rim of their glass. “I’m a little in love with Evan again.”

“Oh,” Sam starts, the vodka and fruit in her glass sloshing a bit. “Me too!”

“What?” Jammer watches them meet each other’s eyes. Then giggle. Then they both look at him. “What--! No, wait… what?”

“You know what,” K has a familiar, comically sly look on their face. 

“Fine, whatever,” He knocks his glass against Sam’s in a faux cheers. ”I’m in love with him too.” 

[ten minutes later]

“I. Want. To. Fuck. That. Man.” Jammer slaps the table for emphasis.

Sam can hardly breathe from laughter. “I have a collar in my underwear drawer.”

“I masturbated about it this morning,” K offers, giggling.

[ten days later]

Evan’s upset they have a threesome without him. They hadn’t meant to exclude him, but the pressure of love unspent demanded a release. And it overflows for the two people who understand exactly how it hurts.