Intruder

Charlie bounds up the stairs to Jackson's flat, sack of ingredients for dinner swinging from her hand.

She digs out her—

New scratches on the lock.

Not Jackson's m.o.

Not Derek's, and even then, he's not coming until next week.

Charlie nudges the door.

It swings open.

Definitely not Jackson's m.o.

Even if Derek were here, he's too anxious to even consider leaving the door unlatched.

She steps inside, sets down the groceries, slides off her shoes, and pads silently through the foyer, kitchen, living room ....

Snoring from the bedroom.

Really?

She peers around the doorframe.

That's definitely not Jackson sprawled on the bed.

Looks sort of familiar though ....

She crosses the space in a half-dozen quick, quiet strides, pounces, and grabs them in a choke hold.

Stranger wriggles free before she can tighten her grip, bolts past her for the door—

Charlie catches an ankle—

—face-plants, kicks out—

—dodges, loses her grip—

—sits up directly into Charlie's fist.

She tries for another hold, but Stranger grabs her arm, flips her, and twists the arm behind her back.

Weight lands on the base of her spine.

Jackson's footsteps on the stairs.

Charlie squirms and batters with her free hand.

"Quit it!" hisses Stranger, pinning it with a knee. "Jack'll be pissed if I hurt you."

Would popping her shoulder out help?

From the entry, ""What the ...?""

Fuck.

Jackson has the /**worst** timing.

""You in here?"" Footsteps. "Get off her, idiot! That's Charlie!"

"/**I** /**know!** 's why I'm sitting on her!"

The weight leaves Charlie's back.

She gets to her feet, brushes off her pants, and decks the idiot into a stumble. Hand smarting, she says to Jackson, "You—" She swallows. "You talked about me?"

"Uh," he rubs his neck. "Yea. Li'l bit."

"Waxed poetically, more like," grumbles the idiot.

"Shut. Up. Logan," Jackson spits.

"Older or younger?" asks Charlie.

Logan offers a bloody smile and a bow. "The Jones's black sheep, your average neighbourhood law fighter."

"Great. An anarchist," sneers Charlie. "And you didn't answer the question."

"Middle brother," says Jackson. "Can we, maybe, go sit down? Like non-hitting people?"

Charlie pointedly raises an eyebrow at Logan.

"No, please," says Logan. "I insist. After you, A—"

"Non-hitting people, ay?" Jackson ushers Logan from the room, mouths, 'I am so sorry!'.

Charlie pictures a centrifugal pump.

The easy chair squeaks.

""Who're you hiding from this time?"" asks Jackson.

Puts it together from the washers up.

""Voluntarily removed myself from the scene.""

""That's what they're calling it nowadays.""

Charlie takes a deep breath, remembers the 'relationship' thing, and strolls into the living room.

Jackson beams—

Charlie softens her eyes.

—and when she claims the seat closest to the door, eases gingerly onto the couch beside her.

Logan, sprawled as if completely at home, waves his bandaged left hand. "Slipped up." Grins. "Found a dull place to heal for a couple days."

Charlie toes Jackson's hip. "Gonna be a problem for Derek?"

He cringes, studies his feet.

"I'll call him?" she offers.

Jackson looks up, eyes crinkling.

"I'm gonna chuck," Logan drawls.

Jackson deflates, pulls himself around to Logan. "You got it checked out?"

"Polite disagreement this time, not some whiny-ass cheater biting me."

"Tetanus. Did you get it checked out."

"'m not a fucking idiot—"

Charlie snorts.

Does not get a rise from Logan.

"—'course I did." Eases to his feet. "But I should get back to my nap, seeing as I'm s'posed to take it easy." Saunters into the bedroom, pauses, glances back. "Don't worry 'bout calling Mouse; no chance of someone making that mistake this time." Closes the door.

Jackson buries his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry about him." Looks over at Charlie. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"He'd be bleeding worse if he had," she sniffs.

Jackson grins. "Good."

"We're feeding him, then?"

"I can try to get rid of him?"

"But he'll just get back in later, ay?"

"Haven't found anything that can stop him yet."

"Hear they're doing great things with electronic locks these days."

"Not great enough," Jackson sighs.

"Really?"

"Yep." Smiles weakly. "Just goes through a window. Or something."

Charlie snorts, pushes herself over onto his side. "Seems to be a thing with you Joneses."

Jackson wraps an arm around her waist. "'m not willfully destroying property."

"Most of the time."

He winces. "Most of the time." Glances at her. "Juliet ...?"

"Was never mad at you. Still." Kisses his jaw, implies she would like him to be in a less upright position.

Jackson would like that, too— "Uh, Logan?"

Charlie nips his earlobe. "Pretend—" A cord of his neck "—he didn't show up."

Two hands on her waist, tries not cracking his head on the armrest, happily returns her kisses.

She hums.

"What about food?"

Charlie huffs. "Think we have enough groceries to feed three."

"If we don't I'll ru—"

She sits back. "You wanna leave the two of us alone."

"—I'll give you some cash to run to the shops for more."

"Better plan."

Intruder arc: Tip | ****Intruder**** | Sleepover