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Secrets of the Past

Summary:

Paul Perkins and Emma Matthews just want to live their lives killing people. Unfortunately for them, Sam Sweetly wants to fuck that up. When he gets involved, they all end up with a little more than they bargained for. Good thing CCRP specializes in being shady.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

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Nighttime in Hatchetfield… always a mess.

The pitch black sky, littered with a few stars, was barely broken by a dim, flickering streetlight. It was a new moon that night, which only added to the darkness. To some, the darkness would remind them of a swirling sea of psychic energy. But only to some.

For a moment, the silence was unbroken, much like the darkness- until a scream sliced through the air. It was quickly stifled, but there was no mistaking that it happened. 

“There. It’s done,” Emma Matthews said, blood splattered on her arms as she held a knife. Her hair, messily put into a ponytail, fell in her face as she kneeled on the sidewalk.

She looked over a body, making sure the job was done. It was bloody, the clothes torn, the life gone. Not much different than her, if she thought about it. But this wasn’t the time to think, it was the time to act.

Glancing around, and satisfied to find they were alone, she reached up to hold her husband’s hand.

Paul Perkins smiled down at his wife, then gripped her hand to help her stand up. In his other hand, he too held a knife, only this one had less blood. To an outsider, it would seem like Emma did most everything- but that’s not entirely true. Like any good murderous couple, they were a team.

 “You did great, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here before someone finds us,” he said, with a glance over his shoulder.

The streetlight flickered out as Paul and Emma kissed as if the power of their love was too much for the world to handle. The light came back on as they broke away, then they walked off, hand in bloody hand as the light went out for the last time.

 

Meanwhile, Charlotte sat alone in her house. The only light was in the living room, where she sat on the edge of the couch as if waiting for something. Someone. The television was on in the background, quietly playing an old sitcom. The faked laughs reminded her of her fake smile- her fake love for Sam. It had to be fake, after all. No one who truly loved their husband would cheat on him, right? It didn’t matter that he had cheated first, that she came home from work one night to find him in their bed with another girl, that he still claimed he loved her, none of that mattered. She was with Ted. So how could she love Sam?

She stared at her phone on the table in front of her. It sat beside a bottle, one she had been hoping to save for a night with Sam. But looking at the table, at the bottle beside the phone, with no husband in sight… the thought of drinking that wine seemed awfully appealing. 

The wooden table, the same color as Sam’s hair, seemed to taunt her. Sam had called her earlier, he said he’d be home late. This was hardly a surprise to Charlotte, he was barely ever home on time anymore. She always wondered where he was, but never bothered to ask. If she thought about it, it would be obvious, of course. But it was easier to pretend he loved her. 

She was alone… there’d be no harm in calling Ted. Just for the night! Right?

…Right? 

After a few more minutes of consideration- and a bit of praying- she picked up the phone and dialed Ted’s number. His voice picked up on the other end, raspy, as if he’d been crying, but maybe that was just the phone. 

“Hey?”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she began. “Ted?”

“Yeah, hey.”

“Hi, yes, it’s me, Charlotte.”

Silence. Then, “Yeah. You called me. I know that.”

“Yes, I- I realize you know that,” Another breath. “But, um, Sam said he’d be home late again.”

There was a smile in his voice. “Are you asking me to come over?”

Her face turned red, and she was suddenly very glad this was a phone conversation. “Yes- I’ll be at home, you still have the key, right? Just- come over.” 

He started to say something else, a witty comment no doubt, but she hung up before he could. 

She sighed in frustration. God, why was Sam never home when he said he’d be? Why did she always go running back to Ted? She tried to be a good wife, didn’t she? Then why did she do this? She kept praying, she kept trying to be a good wife, would she ever be enough for Sam? She kept going back to Ted, last time was the last time, it's the last time, not again. Repeating this to herself, saying that this time, it would be the last time. This time, she’d be better. But she never was.

 

Meanwhile still, Sam was at dinner with a girl. Zoey Chambers. 

There was a diner at the edge of town that neither Charlotte nor Ted knew about, so there they were. She sat across the table from him as he stared down at his phone, but with the amount of conversation going on, she might as well have been alone. 

She twirled her hair a little, staring off at the wall. The wall was… mildly interesting, at least. There was a neon sign on it reading ‘Make Love Not War’ in pink and blue. Sighing at the irony of it, she decided to speak up again.

“So… How are things…” she asked, the question rhetorical, an attempt to make him talk. He invited her out here, shouldn’t he at least be attempting a conversation?

But, to her frustration, he ignored her. Again. 

She sighed frustratedly, and took a sip of her Pepsi, spinning the straw around. One look at how much drink was left in her glass compared to how much was left in Sam’s told very easily who was more ‘there’. 

“I guess I see why you and your wife never hang out.”

At that comment, Sam looked up, sharp, blue eyes piercing her gaze. “Wife?” 

Zoey nodded, picking up her phone. 

Her face fell slightly. She knew this was coming, but she didn’t want it to be true. 

“Yeah. Wife. See these texts?” She showed him her phone screen, which had screenshots of texts from Emma that read things like “paul said his coworker charlotte has a husband named sam” “she thinks hes cheating too and hes a cop” and “i dont rlly know her but that guy seems like shit maybe u should. reconsider”

He stared at the phone in silence. Confusion. “Who told you this?” 

She stared at him defiantly, trying to fight the tears racing to her eyes. “So it’s true.”

After a moment of shocked silence, he opened his mouth to begin to protest but he was cut off-

“Goddamnit, Sam, I’m done. With this, with you, with all of it. Good riddance, cheater,” Zoey said as she stood up. Quickly grabbing her bag, she turned and walked away. 

Sam watched her storm off in silence, blue eyes turning darker- stormy- as he wondered where he went wrong with her. 

To Zoey’s dismay, the tears began to fall. She didn’t want to cry over something like this, he’d think she was weak. 

For a second, she debated going back, but she was already at the door. 

She paused for a moment, blinking back tears, then walked out into the world. 

 

The next morning, Charlotte was walking down the street when she suddenly ran into someone- quite literally. 

There, on the sidewalk, was a body. Covered in blood, it looked to have been brutally murdered. There were slash marks all over it, stabbed, maybe? Seemed likely for Hatchetfield.

“Oh, my god!” She exclaimed, pulling out her phone. 

“Sam? Hello? It’s Charlotte. There’s- there’s a dead body here… I’m at the park. Yes- there, ok. Will you be here soon? Good… Alright. Thank you. Goodbye,” she hung up. 

Shakily, she put her phone back in her pocket and tried to steady her breathing. 

Looking away from the body, she wrung her hands. This was too much for her to deal with. It wasn’t her first time stumbling upon a situation of this sort, but it was never quite this… intense? Bloody? There were a lot of words she could use to describe it. But she’d prefer not to think about it. Sam could deal with it when he got there. Until then, she’d keep walking. 

The body, shrinking with distance as she walked, was almost representative of her and Sam. Walking away. Leaving it to him. Growing smaller and smaller. But that wasn’t her problem, was it?

 

And Sam did get there, but later than he told Char on the phone. He’d gotten a bit distracted on the way over. After what had happened with Zoey the night before, he was trying to fill that void. Little did he know Zoey had similar plans, except she had moved on a lot farther than he did. He should’ve realized she’s not one for wallowing in failed relationships, in that void, the way he was. To any normal person, his wife would seem like a good idea to fix that. To fill the void. But, of course, this town was far from normal. So, instead, he was out on a date with a married woman while the woman he married found a dead body. 

He looked over the body, examining it, all the slashes and stains. He recognized this person… Barry, he thought? That was probably his name. Sam made an effort to not get to know people around town. Men, that is. He had an affinity for getting to know women. 

He searched the scene, inspecting the surroundings. Barry kept a lot of useless shit in his pockets, as Sam annoyedly figured out. Shit like a stuffed squirrel. Why the hell would anyone who isn’t a news reporter need that? Not that the news reporters needed it in the first place. But at least they had an excuse. 

Then he found something more interesting. On Barry’s coat sleeve, there was a burn. It started down at the cuff, turning the beige to black. Part of it had entirely burned away. The strings of the fabric stuck to the concrete, almost as if it had been burned into the ground. 

He did his best to collect the evidence, which to him meant not losing it all on purpose. The coat was sent for an examination, [TIME PASSES] and the burn was from no natural source. It seemed to have been from an electrical fire, and left bits of wire embedded in the fabric. 

Along with that, the [where are they] fingerprints on the coat came back. The fingerprints belonged to Paul Perkins, it said. 

With Paul’s DNA and the wire in Barry’s coat, this wasn’t much of a shock to Sam. He thought back a few years. Back to the last occasion like this, when he found… a little more than he bargained for. If he thought about it, he might be surprised to find DNA. Then again, he’s not always one for thinking. But either way, for now, only he knew why this seemingly boring couple killed Barry. 



Years ago…

“You’re doing what?” Sam stood in the dark, cold basement of CCRP, staring at the old blueprints in his hands. He shuffled through them slowly, examining them as best he could in the dim lights. There was no mistaking their age, the edges were torn, and the colors faded. The words, though- the words stayed sharp throughout the years, the words were clear. The words were instruction, instruction from a higher power? From the head of CCRP? Or from a being few knew the name of? It wasn’t of any importance to Sam. He wasn’t who the instructions were meant for.

The lights flickered slightly, although they were already dim. It added a certain darkness to the basement, both metaphorical and literal.

Melissa was visibly tense. She knew he could tell that, but she was still hoping for the upper hand. Eyeing him, she made sure he didn’t mess with anything he wasn’t supposed to. “You’re looking at the blueprints, y’know. But it’s really none of your business.” 

Her eyebrow raised as she tried to predict his next move. 

Sam laughed emotionlessly with a smirk, then pulled a gun out of the holster on his belt. “I’m a cop. Pretty sure it’s my business if you’re making clones, bitch.” He smiled on the last part, mocking her. 

She looked around quickly for something to defend herself, then picked a knife up off a table in response. “I can get rid of you and make sure you’re never found. Do you really want to do that, officer?” She tried not to seem as nervous as she was, but he did have a gun. With a knife, she couldn’t do much.

He considered his options. He could be murdered. He could fight. He could run. Or he could try to make a deal.

“No. But I’ll tell you what I do want. When you get these set up, I want access to them. Full access,” he finished with a smirk.

“And why would I do that?” Melissa said with a sigh, still holding the knife and now slowly circling him. 

“Because,” he said with a slightly malicious smile, “if you don’t, I’ll turn you in. Or kill you all. Either way, it won’t end well for you.” 

She slowly nodded, beginning to understand what he wants. “Right… And you know we’re making clones of your wife? This… doesn’t have to do with that?”

“Yeah, you’re getting it. So do we have a deal?” He asked with a tilt of the head, lowering the gun slightly. The smile remained on his face- a smirk, really. 

Melissa sighed, rolling her eyes. “God, you’re a sick fuck. Deal.”

 

Present day

Paul and Emma sat in their apartment, sharing a drink when a knock came at the door. They shared a concerned look before standing up. Gently, walking up to the door, Emma opened it. To no one’s surprise, Officer Sam Sweetly stared her in the face. 

“Hello, ma’am, this is-“ Sam began.

“Shut it. I know who you are,” Emma said with a glare that could kill. 

Sam smiled icily. “Great, then you know why I’m here.” 

Paul had been watching from a few steps behind, but he finally stepped up. He glanced over to Emma, not looking very happy. “Em? Is this about…” 

Emma held up her hand to silence Paul. “Paul. Don’t. I love you, but don’t.” 

Sam casually drew his gun, pointing it at them. “So, I know your secret. Nothing is keeping me from telling everyone.”

Emma stared at him in disgust and annoyance. “And nothing is keeping me from killing you.” 

Paul looked back to the kitchen as a way of asking Emma if he should get a knife. 

She shook her head, then turned back to Sam. “Look, can you just leave us alone?”

“Why would I do that, ma’am? You’re a murderer,” he said, gun still raised. 

With an eye roll, Emma tilted her head. “And you’re not?”

Sam chuckled. “Maybe, but at least I got a reason for why.”

Paul opened his mouth, about to say something, then Emma glared at him again. “Yeah? So do we,” she said, turning back to Sam.

He looked back into their kitchen through the doorway, eyeing a knife before replying. “Tell that to the cops.”

Emma furrowed her brow. “I- we are. You… you are the police.” 

Sam ignored that comment. At that point, Emma had turned to Paul again, nodded, and looked pointedly towards the kitchen. Being the idiot he is, Sam didn’t catch on and was too focused on Emma to realize anything until Paul stood right in front of him with a knife. 

“This is your last warning. Leave. Don’t tell anyone. Or else,” Emma said, almost challenging Sam to make a move. 

He slowly put away his gun, raising his hands in fake surrender. “Whatever.”

After a moment, Emma grabbed the knife anyway and knocked him on the head with the hilt. He fell to the ground, unconscious. 

Emma, the stronger of the two, picked up Sam and tossed him over her shoulder. Can’t exactly leave the body of an unconscious cop lying around like that. She walked into the living room, and not knowing what else to do, unceremoniously dumped him on the rug. Finally, she flopped onto the couch. 

“God, I hate cops. Just fuckin’- leave us alone!” 

Paul nodded in agreement. There’s so much more the two could’ve gotten away with if it wasn’t for the HFPD. He sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. 

Emma readjusted, laying her head in his lap and smiling up at him. After a while, she fell asleep.

Since she was in Paul’s lap, he couldn’t exactly move without waking her up.

 He passed the time by staring out the window, hoping his phone would inch its way closer so he could reach it. 

He loved Emma, he truly did, but it was a bit boring not being able to do anything. She was so beautiful when she slept, though... It made it worth it. Finally, after about an hour, he brushed her hair out of her face, carefully lifted her head out of his lap, and stood up. Freedom. Setting her head back down on a pillow, he kissed her forehead softly. Then, he retrieved his phone. Finally, he was no longer bored. Emma somehow didn't wake up from any of this, but Paul wasn't complaining. 

He stepped over Sam's body and went to make himself a snack. 

Hmm... What should he make? Maybe some pasta. That sounded good. 

Emma might want some when she woke up, too. They loved pasta. This was a great idea! 

He checked a recipe online, got out the noodles- oh, noodles. Just like Ted's stupid nickname for him- and started cooking. 

It was funny. With three people in the house, he was the only one awake in the middle of the day. Of course, he didn't think Sam would be waking up anytime soon. And he was right. Sam was out cold. Emma, however, could wake up soon. That's why he's making the pasta, after all. They loved pasta. If it’s vegan, of course. With vegan cheese… 

Emma was always oddly insistent on being vegan. Paul didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t want to argue with his wife. And, after all, the vegan cheese made it worth it.

After a while, Emma woke up. She looked over to see Paul in the kitchen, cooking. This made her nervous. Paul had never been the best cook. But hey, it's worth a shot. Maybe this time he wouldn’t fuck up majorly and burn down the kitchen. 

She sat up groggily and noticed Sam's body on the floor. She had forgotten. 

"Oh, shit. There's- yeah, ok. That." 

Walking over to the kitchen, she tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes, and make them function again. "Hey, babe. How's it going? What are you cooking?" She ended with a little bit of a nervous tone. Again, Paul was not the best cook.

“It's pasta. You want some?" He looked at her with a smile.

Oh. Pasta. She brightened up at that. Pasta was one of her favorite foods, and the only one she actually trusted Paul to make. How sweet of him. God, she really did love her husband. 

How did they get so lucky as to find each other? It had to be some sort of fate. They lived in the same town, they were made by the same company, and every version of them was in love. And so were they. This was a sweet sort of romance they had, one that they had never experienced before. It was new to them, but at the same time felt old, familiar. It felt normal. Like home. Paul and Emma, to each other, felt like home. This is true love. 

Paul kept making the pasta, as Emma went to get a drink from the fridge. Popping open a soda bottle, she sat down at the table. 

“So, how’s the pasta? Guess you didn’t come up with any great ideas for what we should do with Sam while I was out?”

He stirred the pot of noodles absentmindedly. “Not really. I figured I’d wait for you to wake up.”

“Eh, fair enough. Just try to not burn the house down?” She said with a laugh. 

“I know, I know. I’m getting better,” he said. “And hey, it’s done. No damage. Can you get out the cheese?” 

She nodded, opening up the fridge to get the cheese while he put the pasta in bowls. They got their pasta how they wanted it, then went to sit down on the couch. 

Eating their pasta, or in Paul’s case mostly cheese, they discussed Sam. 

 

“…What should we do with him?” Paul wondered, staring at the body on the floor. 

Emma shrugged. “How’m I supposed to know? You were the one who worked with his wife.”

Paul nodded, looking off into the distance through the window. “Work… right,” he mused. “Work. We could- put him in the basement?” 

She tilted her head, thinking. “I mean… There’s worse ideas. It could work.”

“Right, okay. Okay. Basement. Tomorrow, maybe? Or tonight could work. Today’s Mr. Davidson’s off day, he’s spending the day with his wife. There won’t be much security at the basement,” Paul said, thinking out loud.

She smiled. “Great. Let’s do this.”

 

Ted walked into Charlotte’s house the next day to hear… something.

“He’s- he’s- dead? Sam?” 

He could see her silhouette shaking, sobbing, and it looked like she was on the phone. There was no one else at home.

That, of course, concerned Ted, but he didn’t think it was a good time to bother Charlotte. He quietly left to go to Beanie’s instead. 

As he walked in, he scanned the shop for the latte hottie. There. A barista with long, black hair played on her phone, oblivious to her surroundings. “Ugh… he’s just an asshole, you know?” She said to one of the other baristas. 

The other barista sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Zoey, I know. I literally told you to leave him.” 

Ted walked over to the barista with black hair, Zoey, and began with the ol’ Spankoffski charm. “Hey, girl. So I couldn’t help but overhear, but you’re single? I could help fix that.”

Zoey, still not looking up from her phone, rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Sam, if that’s you I swear to god-“ She looked up. “Great. It’s you. Again,” she said with a sigh. 

He winked. “Yep. It’s me. Wait, Sam?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, he’s my ex, apparently he has a wife, though.”

“A wife…” Ted thought about what he had heard at Charlotte’s house. Sam was very possibly dead, and this girl might be a suspect. “Hey, did his wife’s name happen to be Charlotte?” 

The other barista looked over at him, realizing who he was. “Wait, Ted? My husband works with you, I think. Paul. But yeah, his wife’s Charlotte,” she said. 

Ted cursed under his breath. He had known Sam was bad news from the start. 

“Anyway… can I get a chai iced tea?” He asked after a few moments. 

“Coming right up,” Emma said and handed him a chai iced tea. He left quickly to go back to Charlotte’s house. 

Emma watched him go. “So… guess he’s not gonna pay.”

 

Back at Charlotte’s house, she was shaking. 

Sobbing. Tears streamed down her face as she held a cigarette in one hand and a bottle in the other.

“Ted? He’s- he’s dead- Mx. Doug called me a few minutes ago, he was stabbed, I don’t know what-” She said after noticing that he’d walked in. 

He sat beside her on the sofa and softly took the cigarette from her. “Okay, Char, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking and smoking…”

His arm found its way around her in a warm, calming embrace. “Doug? They said Sam died?” Ted asked in a quiet voice after Charlotte had stopped crying as much, at least for the moment. 

She nodded shakily. “I- I didn’t want him to die. I know we’ve had our problems, but I didn’t want him to die… I didn’t want- I didn’t want.” 

Ted held her hands in his, hoping to be a bit of a comfort. “Of course you didn’t.” He smiled, then cursed under his breath. “Wait, stabbed? Shit, I… I need to go talk to someone.” 

He left the room, and Charlotte teared up again without his comfort. “…Ted?” Her voice whispered, but he was already gone.

When out of Charlotte’s earshot, Ted called Paul.

“Hey. Paul.” He sounded urgent, something Paul didn’t quite pick up on.

Did Paul want to talk to Ted? Not particularly. But it would be rude to ignore his friend, he supposed. “Hello?”

“So you know Charlotte’s scumbag husband Sam?” Ted’s talking quickly, he doesn’t wanna do this either. But Paul’s the only one he can trust right now.

Paul waited a moment before responding. “Yeah, of course, he calls her once a week or so.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Kinda rhetorical. But yeah, he’s dead. Stabbed. And apparently, his other girlfriend, forgot her name, but anyway, she broke up with him yesterday.” Ted barely took the time to breathe while saying that. He didn’t want Charlotte to overhear him, but he wanted to get it out fast. See if Paul could help.

“Okay. What’s your point, Ted.” Paul’s voice was flat, completely emotionless. 

“Look, my point is I think there’s a connection. Charlotte’s not takin’ it well.” 

“Should I… report this to the police, maybe?” He still sounded emotionless, but this time slightly more annoyed.

“No, you noodle, don’t fucking report this to the police. I- You know what, I’ll see you tomorrow. See ya, Paul.” Frustratedly, he hung up without a reply.

It hurt him to say goodbye to Charlotte, so he didn’t. 

He was quiet until he got home, the only sound was the soft rumble of his car. But his mind, his mind was racing. Was it selfish of him to be happy? Not just for Charlotte, but for him? And was it bad to be happy for her when she so clearly loved Sam more than she did him? 

He wondered what would happen if he had died instead. Would she still mourn? No, no, don’t think that. Don’t think that- don’t think about her. Thoughts flooded his brain, each one worse than the last. 

After what seemed like forever, he got home. He stepped out of his car, breathed in the cool air, and said a single word. “Fuck.”

 

The next day, Paul and Ted were at work. 

Charlotte had called out sick. 

Ted lounged in his chair, spinning around a little as he watched his computer screen. Bored… when would the day end?

“I’m gonna go get some coffee from Beanie’s. Anyone wanna come?” He heard Paul say through his closed office door. “Ted?” Paul looked through Ted’s window, shooting him a look that said “come with me or else” through the blinds.

Ted shook his head almost in surprise, no, annoyance. He looked back down at the work that he was ignoring.

Paul was silent for a moment outside the office, until in one fluid motion, Paul pushed open the door and grabbed Ted’s arm. “Great,” he said, clearly not caring that Ted didn’t want to go. He shoved open the door to the building, and dragged him outside. They were walking down the street, normally, if not quieter than usual. 

Out of nowhere, Paul pushed Ted down an alley. “There’s something you should know about me, Ted.”

He stumbled back in surprise. “Paul?”

“But if you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, I will have to kill you,” Paul finished with a sigh. 

Ted backed away, holding out his arms to get more distance. “Kill me? What, are you a psycho or something?” 

Paul pulled up his shirt sleeve, showing a “23” tattoo. “I’m not Paul. I’m a clone of him. I’m Paul 23, and Emma is an android. We were both made by CCRP, and Sam knew our secret and threatened to tell. We had to kill him.” 

For once, Ted is shocked into silence. “...What the fuck?” 

“You heard what I said,” Paul replied, “but if you tell anyone I will have to kill you.”

He stared for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. “Ok. Don’t tell anyone. Got it. But can I please go get a chai iced tea now?”

After a pause, Paul sighed. “Sure. Let’s go.” 

 

Paul kept a watchful eye on Ted as they walked to Beanie’s. 

The door jingled as they entered, grabbing the attention of a few customers. 

Emma smiled as she saw Paul. “Hey, Paul. What can I get for you? And- Ted,” she finished, Ted being an afterthought. He chose to ignore that. 

Paul smiled back, his eyes shining in the shitty Beanies lighting. “Hi, Emma! I’ll have a plain black coffee, thanks. Ted?”

Ted leaned an arm on the counter, exaggeratingly raising an eyebrow. “Hey, girl. How’s that coffee going? Hot? I bet it is. ‘Cause you made it.”

Emma’s smile dropped. Her head fell into her hand. This- this! Is why she hates working at Beanies. If he’s going to hit on her, why can’t he at least use a good pick up line? 

“Ted, disrespectfully, shut up. I have a husband,” she said flatly before turning back to the coffee. 

He winked, overdoing it like he does everything. “Hasn’t stopped people before.”

She snapped back towards him. “Oh my god! I don’t care if you’re having affairs! You know what, Ted- I am this close to kicking you out. Forever.”

Paul gave Emma an apologetic look. 

As if on cue, Zoey appeared from the back door, holding her phone. “Mmm… You can’t do that, Emma.”

Emma rolled her eyes at her. “Uh, I sure as hell can. I work here too.”

Zoey smirked. “Ok, but like, I’m your manager. And I say you can’t.”

Putting down the coffee, Emma turned back to Zoey. “Well, you can’t stop me. See?” She looked at Ted, pointing to the door. “Out. And don’t come back. I don’t give a shit about your ‘Latte Hatte’ business, you can go to Starbucks.”

Ted put on a fake sad face, hoping to change her mind. “Aw, you sure, sweetheart? Could always make it up to you later. I don’t have to go.”

Emma’s eyes turned- red? No, that couldn’t be right. Eyes can’t be red. It was hard to tell in the lighting, they must’ve been normal. “Get. The fuck. Out of here. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore, Spankoffski.” She walked out from behind the counter, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door. 

“Ooh, pushy today, aren’t ya?” Ted smirked, still not realizing- or caring?- that he went too far. 

Shoving open the door, Emma pushed him out onto the sidewalk. She walked back in with a sigh and tried to forget all that just happened. 

Zoey was still standing by the door, for once not looking at her phone. Instead, she looked at Ted through the window, and began a caffeinated ramble. “Normally I wouldn’t have minded him staying. He pisses Emma off, and he’s not too terrible to look at…” She smiled fakely at Paul, who had been watching the whole thing from the sidelines. “I mean, if I hadn’t had such a good night last night. The girls in this town really know what they’re doing in bed.”

He grimace smiled back. He's really not a fan of Zoey, and especially didn’t want to know the details of her sex life. “Zoey, that- what are you talking about? You did not have to bring up any of that…”

She rolled her eyes, but was saved by Emma coming back from outside. 

Picking up the cup she had made for Paul before, she slammed it on the counter. “Just go. Don’t bother paying, it’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.” Her gaze softened from the earlier glare. Paul was almost an antidote to her anger, he’s the calmness she doesn’t have. With a small wave and a smile, he walked out to find Ted still standing outside. 

“God, your wife’s a bitch. She wasn’t being serious about the forever part, right?” Of course, Ted still hadn’t taken this seriously. 

Paul glanced back through the window, seeing Emma dealing with yet another jerk. “Forever and always.”



“Hhhuh? What?” 

Sam groggily opened his eyes. “Where am I? Why am I tied to a chair?” 

Emma stared at him. “Finally awake, huh?” 

He tried to get her in focus. “Why am I not dead?”

The walls were a dark beige, at least that’s how it looked through his blurred vision. Where even was he? And fuck, his head hurt- 

She nodded and began to pace around him. “I’m sure you know that if people found out who we are, our lives would be destroyed. We can’t have that happening.”

“Obviously. That’d be a shame.” He rolled his eyes, trying to half heartedly turn to see her better. Should’ve killed her when he had the chance. “What are you gonna do with me?” There wasn’t much else for him to do than wonder. Besides knocking him out, they must’ve drugged him or something. It had to explain the drowsiness. And tied to a chair, without any weapons, he was essentially powerless. 

Finally, Emma stopped behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Not sure yet, Sweetly. They all think you’re dead. Might just have to make that true.”

He chuckled a little. Was that supposed to scare him? He’s a cop. The thought of death is something he’s gotten used to over the years. “That supposed to be a threat, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, not really. But it’s gonna be a promise now. And you know what? You’re gonna die knowing no one cares about you anymore.” Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and her eyes narrowed. 

Paul stared at Emma, love in his eyes. She’s so cute when she threatens people. 

Sam tilted his head as best he could to look at her and smirked. “Gotta wife. And a girlfriend.” His eyebrows furrowed after finishing- maybe he shouldn’t have openly said he was cheating on his wife. But what the hell, it didn’t matter much now. 

“A wife who cheated on you and a girlfriend who left you.” Finally, Emma working with Zoey had some use for her. 

Sam thought for a second. There had to be some people who didn’t hate him. “…I got coworkers.”

Emma shook her head, moving on. “The point is, no one cares about you, Sam. You’re just a speck. The world’s gonna be a lot better without you in it. I hope you know that.” 

 

It was Paul’s break at work, and Emma came by to visit. 

Ted intruded on their conversation in the break room, being the bastard that he was. They stood around, drinking coffee, while Paul and Emma avoided Ted as best they could. 

“It’s a real shame what happened to Sam,” Ted said, interrupting Emma. He, of course, didn’t mean it, he just wanted to get something out of her. 

“Yeah. Really is,” Emma said, not really hiding her frustration. “Look, Ted. I am just trying to have a nice talk with my husband on his break. Fuck off.”

“Wait, how did you manage to kill Sam and not get caught?” Ted said. “Right, right, there’s no DNA because you’re a robot. Forgot about that.” 

Emma squinted slightly, her eyes red in the light. “Robot?”

Paul glared at Ted nervously. “Shut up-” he hissed. 

He looked at Paul, a little confused. Looking back at Emma, he raised his hand to gesture to Paul. “Well, yeah. Robot. Aren’t you a robot? And he’s a clone or something?”

Emma’s eyes flickered red for a moment. This time, it wasn't the lighting. “Paul? Care to explain?”

Paul glanced around nervously, wringing his hands. “Uh… he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Em.”

She reached in her plaid vest pocket, bringing out a pocket knife. She spun it around, either reckless or skilled. Most likely both. “Whatever. Besides the point. He clearly knows something, and we can’t let him tell our secret,”

Turning to Paul, she continued. “Paul, close the door. Shut the blinds.”

As he did so, Ted started to realize what was happening, and his face dropped. His life sucked, yeah, but he wasn’t ready to die. For god's sake- he had a teenage brother. How would Pete feel knowing his very favorite person was killed by his very (least) favorite barista? 

But Emma did not care. She twirled the knife around in her hand a little more, mostly for show, but also to scare him. 

He backed away, shaking his head. The only problem was, he didn’t realize just how close the wall was. He was trapped. 

Emma and Paul closed in on Ted. 

“I’m not gonna let you ruin my life, bastard. Or anyone else’s,” Emma said, knife under Ted’s chin. 

He raised his head and pressed against the wall as much as he could, trying to get away. But it was no use.

She slowly drew the knife away from his chin, and he let out a breath of relief. And then she struck. Stabbing him, over and over, making sure there was no damn way he would survive. 

First, she went for the throat, to destroy any hope of a call for freedom. Then, his chest. Not quite at his heart, but close. She stabbed him there multiple times, each time getting him closer and closer to death. 

Until he finally went limp, slouched against the wall and the floor, blood dripping from all over him. His clothes were soaked, and so was the wall behind him. 

It was just Paul’s break, so they didn’t have time to properly dispose of Ted’s body. So until they could, they shoved him in the break room closet, hoping to hell no one would go in there soon. 

 

It was a few days later. 

No one had really noticed Ted was gone, except maybe Charlotte. But no one paid much attention to her.

Emma sat on her and Paul’s couch, slouching to the point of her nearly laying down.

She groaned. Why did this have to be so complicated? 

“We gotta do something, Paul. I mean, sooner or later your boss is gonna notice he’s gone.”

Paul sat beside her, squeezing her hand. He stared off at the window, watching a crow flutter on a tree branch. “I know… I know.”

Mr. Davidson mainly paid attention to the important employees. In other words, not Ted. But as one of the workers overseeing the basement, Paul had an edge up with him. 

He thought for a minute, then sighed. “I don’t know- I could tell him, I guess? Or I could just find a clone.”

Emma turned away, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, there’s clones of Ted?” Even facing away, her laughing smile was clear. 

Paul nodded, smiling in response to Em. “Yeah- our whole department, really. Mel did some shit with the coffee machine, I think? Collected DNA from it.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “But I think I was the only one who got sent to the moon.”

Sitting up slightly, Emma turned back to rest her head on his shoulders. Her eyes were bright, just happy to be with her husband. “Well, that’s just ‘cause you’re the best.”

He blushed and leaned over to gently kiss her forehead. “I couldn’t do it without you, sweetheart.”

No more time for sappiness, though. They killed someone, this was serious business. “But that probably is the best plan. I don’t think Mr. Davidson would be happy that we killed his employee,” Paul said, back to business. 

“Right. So, get the clone, and then he’ll just… live Ted’s life?” Emma asked.

Paul nodded, then yawned. “Pretty much. But let’s do that tomorrow? Think I need some sleep.”

She smiled and stood up. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

“Wait, go- to sleep? Or go to the basement?” Paul asked. 

“Sleep, you idiot. See, you definitely need it,” Emma laughed.

 

The next day, Paul stood in the basement of CCRP, where he overviewed the clones and androids. 

He walked past the aisles, reading the signs naming the different departments, until he got to the tech department. Bill… Charlotte… there! Ted. 

Walking down the aisle, almost like a warehouse, he inspected the Teds. Of course, they’re all the same, but it didn’t hurt to check. Finally, he came upon one he thought would work quite well. 

Ted 69. A fitting number for him, unfortunately. 

The clones, when not in use, were in a stasis of sorts. Not awake, not asleep, not alive, not dead. They simply existed. On this day, though, it was different. 

Their minds, barely ever in use, awoke when Paul walked by. They sensed him. They knew he was coming, and they knew what he wanted. They each wanted to be picked- it was a lonely life in the basement. To get out, to see the world from their original’s point of view… it was what they all wanted. There had to be a want, of course. CCRP couldn’t operate without wants. Without needs. Desires. 

Everyone has them. They just don’t always see it. They don’t always understand. How could they, after all? They were the pawns. Simply the playing pieces. One could say CCRP is the player, but even that would be wrong. They control some pawns, yes, but they’re nothing compared to the powers in the Black and White. 

CCRP is yet another pawn in the game of Hatchetfield. A game played by the gods, by the Lords in Black. The Lords have no mercy, so why should CCRP? 

 

The new Ted awoke the next day in his apartment. Alone. As expected. He had no memory of how he got there, but that too was expected. He sat up in bed, already dressed in a work uniform- a button up shirt and tie. But he looked in the closet anyway, hoping to find something interesting. 

There wasn’t very much variation in the types of clothes there. It seemed that Ted was a boring man, at least in the clothes department. This new Ted would have to change that. Later, though. He had to get to work. 

Heading into his living room, he grabbed a bottle of water and began searching for the keys. He would definitely have to reorganize some. 

After an embarrassingly long time, he found the keys. 

Slamming open the apartment door, he headed out into the world. The car was pretty easy to find- it was the only one still there. Shit, he probably shouldn’t have slept so late. 

But he couldn’t change that now. He drove to Coven Communications, Research, and Power. He flipped through radio stations, seeing which ones were saved, trying to get a sense of his original’s musical tastes. Shitty, it looked like. It seemed like forever, but he eventually got to work.

Obnoxiously smacking a piece of gum he found in the car, he walked in, shooting winks and finger guns at all the women. The ol’ Spankoffski charm. That is… until he got to the desk of one Charlotte Sweetly.

He stopped in his tracks, taken aback by… her. He’d seen clones of her back in the basement, but this was different. This was the original, the Charlotte Sweetly. And she was perfect. His face softened, just taking in everything about her. Everything… Everything was perfect. This must be what love feels like. A vague thought passed his mind, wondering if she ever felt that way about the original him. Shaking the thought away, he went to sit at the empty desk beside her.

“Oh- Ted?” She said, looking up from her work. Her eyebrows were knitted, but there’s a small smile in her voice.

He kept staring, trying to shake his mind back into reality. “Ye- yeah?”

She gestures back to his office. “Ted, this is… this is Paul’s desk? Your office is back there?”

Fuck. He had an office. Shit, why did the other him have to be so goddamn good at his job? 

He nodded dejectedly. The day wasn’t off to a great start already. “Right. Yeah. Just- wanted to see you, I guess. Later, Char.” By the time he’s finished, he’s already walking away. 

The day passed slowly. He kept peeking out of his office, hoping to get another glimpse of Charlotte. He saw her laugh, smile, and be happy, but he also saw her cry. Mourn. As much as it hurt to see her happy without him, it hurt more to see her sad. He cursed himself again and again for not going out there, for not helping her. 

 

That was how most of his time at CCRP passed. Ignoring work, staring at Charlotte… until one day, a few weeks later. He’d grown closer to Charlotte, and decided it was time to tell her who he really was.

He’d hidden it for this long, didn’t she deserve to know? She deserved to know who the man she loved was- no. Not the man she loved. She didn’t love him, and he knew that. It was Sam… Sam was the man she loved. Ted was the man she was friends with. She deserved to know who the man she was friends with really was. 

So here he was. Standing outside of CCRP in the cold, catching his breath after chasing down Charlotte. She had been awfully ready to leave, which was unlike her, but he got her attention. 

“Char- Char. I gotta talk to you,” he said, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. Not that it would entirely matter, this was CCRP, after all. But it mattered to him. Her knowing the truth mattered to him. 

She looked at him, confused. 

“Char. I… woo, ok. This is kinda hard,” he stalled for time. He hadn’t really thought this through. 

She glanced down. “Kinda- Ted, are you really trying to do this now? I need to get home, we could… get together another night? I’m sorry,”

He shook his head, hands hovering around her. Afraid to make contact. “No, that’s not what I mean- I don’t mean hard like that. This- is hard. This conversation. Trying to tell you this.”

“You can just tell me, Ted… it doesn’t have to be hard. I care about you, in a- in a friendly way, you know that. I’m sure whatever you have to say can’t be that bad!” She finished with a smile, albeit a nervous one. She took a glance over towards her car… this was certainly a night she wanted to get home. 

He took a deep breath. “So- the basement. You know there’s… all that weird shit down there? Like the weird machines and creatures and the lab shit?” Pausing just long enough to take a breath, but not long enough to let her answer. “And I always thought Melissa was kinda. Skrunkly? No, what’s the word, the fuckin’ word-”

Since he’s so clearly distressed, Charlotte gingerly spoke up. “Suspicious?”

“Yes!” He nearly jumped up, snapping his fingers. “Suspicious. Yeah. She’s suspicious! And all that shit with the coffee machine, anyway- the basement. It has clones. Of- of us. And android versions in the future or somethin’.”

She nodded her head, looking more than a little unsettled by his… energetic behavior. But he didn’t notice that. He kept talking. 

“And Char, what I gotta say is- I’m a clone. I’m not the real Ted. I’m not the guy you knew. The guy you… cheated on your scumbag husband with. All that shit, that’s not me. But I wanna have that with you. I wanna have you.”

Charlotte smiled at him as he finished talking. It was nothing she didn’t already know. “I know, Ted.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “You- know? Oh, thank god. Wait, what the fuck? You know?”

Nodding silently, she lifted her sweater sleeve. On her arm was a tattoo in thin, dark ink reading “34”. Small bits of blue fuzz from the sweater stuck to it, annoyingly. It had been a problem for as long as she could remember, and she had never quite figured out how to fix it. 

“I’m one too. I… I noticed when you got here you weren’t- my Ted. I wasn’t going to say anything, of course, but I’ve known.”

Ted stared at her, love in his eyes. It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. And to know that Charlotte understood the weight? That meant more to him than anything. She… meant more to him than anything. “That’s- that’s. Charlotte, that… that means so much? For some reason- I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m, uh- this is a lot?” He paused, finally taking a breath. He put his arms on Charlotte’s shoulders, wanting to go in for a hug. 

She had been looking down from the start, but she finally looked up at his touch. His eyes were asking her about the hug, and she nodded. But before he got a chance to go in, she hugged him. He was caught off guard but only grinned. 

He realized this was the first time they’d hugged. The first time he had touched her more than a vague touch of the arm, small things at work. Without even realizing it, Charlotte had avoided physical touch since Sam’s death entirely. They hadn’t even invited each other over at night, it was strangely different. She was scared to get close to Ted, scared to love him, but now? Now it was different. Now, they were open with each other. Now their secrets were out. 

She didn’t want to love him only to lose him as she did before. She wanted this to last- and it might, but at what cost? He had died before. He might again. If she got close to him again, if she truly admitted to herself that she loved him, only for him to be ripped away again… that would destroy her. It would break her more than anything Sam could’ve ever done. 

After a few minutes, Ted broke away from the hug. He stared at her, holding her face in his hands. 

“I love you, Charlotte. So much. Can I- can I kiss you?”

She blushed at the question, looking away, but she nodded. 

He gazed into her eyes for a second. He shook his head, wondering how on earth someone could be so beautiful? 

Leaning in, he kissed her. The rest of the world fell away, nothing else mattered except them. Their love. 

Around them, snow had begun to fall as they held each other, not noticing the cold. They kept each other warm, their embrace kept out the harshness of the weather. All was calm, all was perfect, until a passing car abruptly took them out of their moment.

Charlotte looked at Ted’s watch. It was later than she wanted it to be. “I, um- I should probably go. I’m sorry- I’ll see you tomorrow?” She smiled, and stepped toward her car.

Ted wasn’t going to point out that the next day was Saturday. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll… see you then, Char. Have a good night.”

She turned away, going to walk to her car. Except she couldn’t find her keys. “Ted? Have you seen my keys?” 

He smiled at her, and tossed her keys over. “Took ‘em while we were so sexily making out,” he paused for a second, just staring at her. “Didn’t want you to leave.”

She returned the smile, softly. Then, she ran back over to him for one last hug. “I love you, Ted.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he kissed her forehead, then walked off to his car.

 

Charlotte sat in her car, on the way home. A corny old love song played on the radio. Normally, she wouldn’t mind it, but after what had just happened…

It got her thinking. 

The cost of love is a great one. This is something Charlotte knew very well. She was no stranger to being unloved, to being alone. When she was loved, it felt incredible. She felt light and free, and everything was good. She was happy.

But it had been a long time since she felt that. Now, all she knew was the price of loving without return. Sam. She loved him, she really did- but he didn’t love her. She wanted to be a good wife to him, she wanted him to love her, but that didn’t do a damn thing. And then he disappeared. Leaving her alone, with no one to love, or to love her. 

Or so she thought. 

It hurt to love Sam, but it hurt to love Ted even more. She didn’t want to care for Ted, but she did anyway. That was what hurt her. After all, she was married, wasn’t she? At least before? A married woman shouldn’t love another man. 

But… she wasn’t married. Sam was legally dead. Nothing, really, was keeping her from loving Ted other than herself. And if she was the only thing keeping her from happiness, did she really have to not love him? 

That night, in the car, she made a decision. She would love Ted. She would love him the way she loved Sam, and she wouldn’t hold back. Ted loved her, so there was no reason to keep them both from happiness. 

Except… the only issue was, Sam wasn’t dead yet. 

 

A few months had passed. 

Ted had gotten used to life as himself now, Charlotte was healing from Sam’s death, albeit slowly, and most of the rumors surrounding Paul and Emma had died down. 

So here they sat. In a hidden room of CCRP’s basement. Just the four of them. Emma brought a knife, but everyone else was unarmed. Or appeared to be. 

Earlier that day, Paul had set up four folding chairs in a circle. 

It was Charlotte who came up with the idea. She needed closure. But Paul had the most influence at the company, so he made a plan. 

So here they sat. The four of them, in silence.

Charlotte smoothed out her sweater. 

Ted tapped his foot, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Paul examined a gun he had found on the floor a few minutes before. 

Emma sharpened her knife.

Silence. 

Finally, Emma spoke up. “So are we going to actually… do something beneficial here, or just sit in a circle like a bunch of dumbasses?”

None of them wanted to bring up the elephant in the room. The reason they were all there. But it had to be said eventually. 

“Are we gonna kill him, or what?” Ted said with a head tilt towards Sam, still tied to the chair. He was blindfolded, but he could still hear them clearly. If he was awake- no one was really sure. 

Paul shrugged, looking to Emma. 

“That’s the plan,” she finished for him.

Ted stood up suddenly. “Well, alright then! Let’s get on with it!” 

Following his lead, Charlotte stood up uncertainly. “Should we maybe make a plan first? For how we’re going to… kill him?”

Emma looked up from her knife. “I mean, maybe, but he’s been down here long enough. We might as well just do it.”

Paul stood up as well. “Okay. Okay, should we torture him or just kill him?”

Ted looked taken aback. “Torture? That’s- that’s an option?”

Looking around, Emma realized she was the only one sitting. She stood up with a sigh. “If we want it to be.”

Charlotte didn’t seem very excited about that idea. “Maybe we should just kill him? To get it over with?”

“Sounds okay to me,” Paul said with a shrug. 

They circled around him, weapons in hand. Emma with her knife, Paul with the gun he found, Charlotte with a knife Emma had just given her, and… Ted with his hands. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said, smiling before punching Sam straight in the nose. 

Sam was silent. Unnaturally silent. It was strange, after getting his nose broken by Ted Spankoffski of all people, he normally would’ve made some sort of comment.  

Paul looked as if he was about to make a move, but Emma stopped him. 

“Let’s take off the blindfold. I want him to see his death.” 

Since Charlotte stood behind him, she carefully untied it and wrapped it around the handle of her knife. 

“Damn… Who turned on the lights? Give a guy a break, huh?” He chuckled, eyes squinting in the light. It seemed so bright to him, despite that it was so dim. His head felt heavy, it was hard to keep it upright. But not to worry. He wouldn’t have to deal with that much longer. 

“Alright, Sam. Hope you enjoy that your last moments will be in the hands of your wife and the dude she actually loves,” Emma said, turning the knife over in her hands. “Charlotte? You wanna have the honors?” 

Charlotte nodded slightly. She was still a little bit nervous about this. Taking a deep breath, she walked until she was directly in front of Sam, knife in hand. 

Sam could barely make out that it was her, he was so out of it. But he could tell, and tried to make one last plea. “Char, come on, babe- you don’t gotta do this. You don’t gotta kill me, alright? Just take that knife and, uh- untie me. We can go home, huh? Be happy?”

This almost got her attention. Until Ted stepped behind her, hands on her shoulders, and took the knife from her. 

“She’s not your wife anymore, bud. And you’re gonna regret ever marrying her when I’m done,” he said, striding towards Sam. 

Holding the knife in one hand, he balled his other into a fist and punched Sam in the mouth. “That’s for every other girl you kissed while married to Char. God knows how many- but believe me, if I knew? You’d be getting a punch for every single one.”

Charlotte stood back, almost scared of Ted in that moment. She’d never seen him be this violent before.

“Em? Come on, Em. I can’t be the only one killing him,” Ted said, turning back to the group.

Emma shook her head at the nickname. “You can’t- what? Never mind. Uh, alright, I’m more experienced with this, so… You can just stay back, I guess.” Ted looked mildly offended by that, but she ignored it. 

She walked closer to him, knife out. She pressed the tip of the blade into his chest, not enough to draw blood or really hurt him, but enough to make him scared. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she leaned in to go for the kill…

Then didn’t. 

“Charlotte? You should do this.” She stood up, walked away from Sam, and handed her knife to Charlotte.

Charlotte took it carefully. Slowly, she stepped over to the chair where Sam was, and a tear slid down her face. She wasn’t sad for him, no, but for her. That she wanted to do this.

And so she did. She put her hand on his chest, finding his racing heartbeat, and smiled softly at him. Then came the knife, straight into his heart. Put there by the woman who captured it so long ago.

“Well, great! He’s dead,” Ted said after a minute, trying to hide his smile. He was proud of Char for doing this, prouder than he’d like to admit.

Emma shook her head. “We don’t know for sure. Uh- Paul, you didn’t do much, wanna finish it off?”

With a nod, Paul lifted his gun, “Okay,” and shot Sam right through the head. He went limp, and so ended the life of Sam Sweetly.

 

And with the ending of Sam’s life, a new life began. The life of these four unlikely lovers, the murderers of Hatchetfield, the sweethearts of CCRP. 

Notes:

woo this is my first fic that isn’t a short one shot! i’ve been working on this for a while, very excited to post it. hope you all like it :]