Cookie Verse - TBD

[fredless]

Mama had a bad habit of picking up used puzzles and games from yard sales. And it wasn't that bad, not really. 'Cepting for the part where she never could seem to remember what games were already sitting back home in the hall closet. It's how they ended up with three Monopolys and two very battered versions of Life. That, and a whole heck of a lot of puzzle three or four pieces shy of completion. You'd spend the whole of a weekend hunched over the kitchen table, trying to work through one. Only to get to the very end, staring at those spaces where the table shown through.

Almost, but not quite.

That's what it feels like, she thinks. Almost. But not quite.


But not...what's she missing?

They're talking about her. Fred's pretty darn certain of it. But the fact that they're not talking to her, explaining what all those reports and readings are saying? Well that's more worrisome than the variety of needles they're already insisted on sticking her with and why is it...

Why was it so hot?

Wesley was going to have her head.

She was going to have to tell him he'd have to wait for her to be finished with it first.

It really was ridiculously warm.

Fred wondered if Mama still had those puzzles in the hall closet.

Life.

Almost. But not quite.

Comments

[demonologist]

Afraid that he was putting too much weight on the bed, Wes shifted backwards slightly, trying to give her more space. If the charts were correct, she was in considerable discomfort. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at her complaint, remembering the banter from weeks before. He couldn't quite manage another smile, however.

"Someone really ought to," he agreed, reaching out to adjust/fluff them as best he could. Then his expression sobered again, despite his intent to keep things as light as he could.

"Can you think of any unusual events in the past few days? Points of possible contagion."

[fredless]

There wasn't going to be any pretending.

But then, that was the point, wasn't. That they didn't pretend between them. It was of the many, many things that'd drawn her to Wesley. Fred's fingers strayed to play over the edges of her blanket. But almost just as quickly they grew tired.

"There was that one demon attack, at the dinner we went to. There might've been some direct contact when I was collecting..."

Fred released a shaky breath.

"We know what it was, Wesley."