2.11 Take me away

 

    The silence isn't eerie, it's unnatural. A type that doesn't belong in simnation, or any other part of nature. The world isn't supposed to be this silent, there's always sounds. Even when it seems like the quiet is consuming everything, there's still sounds.

      This type of silence only got changed when sirens quickly started howling. The first ones to respond is the police, civildefense and firedepartment; to secure the area. Hospitals go on high alert as ambulances follows behind. They had barely started responding before the next one went off, close by the first.

     Even the army had been called out then. Jericho was a big city after all, and was always lacking in resources when disaster struck. Well, lacking was a harsh word, they had the army after all. That was how they were supposed to be used. Unlike the movies, the different departments didn't get angry when the others got involved. The more resources they had, the better it was.

     Someone always cried and laughed, most stood in one place staring. The worst thing that happened was the buffaloherd; when one started running, they all did. Someone always ended up under others feet, and got trampled to death. This time wasn't an exception.

     Either way Marco was exhausted, together with the rest of them. But finally after several weeks of nearly day and night work, they were allowed to start having breaks and some sleep.     By now he was so used to staying awake that he had trouble sleeping. He'd gone to the gym and worked out until he could hear the blood pumping, getting the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Up to the point where he'd feel he was going to pass out if he pushed himself harder, and still he went on.

     There are few things as efficient getting to a testosterone high as a hard workout, but Marco mainly did it to clear his mind. It was better than just trying to sit still, and then going mental because he wanted to do something.     It was late night by the time he was done, and the place was deserted. Usually it was crowded every hour of the day, but most people stayed at home now. Watching the news after anything new, a breakthrough in the case that cost so many lives.

     Therein lay the difference beeing an officer and beeing a part of the public. The news talked about the high death toll, but they were wrong. The bombs hadn't been efficient at all. The death toll should have been a lot worse, and they had been placed in such a way that they killed even fewer. In addition they went off at a useless hour, inbetween rushes and nowwhere near the mayors office.
     They had already figured out who was behind it without telling the press, but it didn't make any sense;

     MorcuCorp.  
     All traces lead to MorcuCorp. They were a legit business, founded by several smaller illegal business. A massive coorperation that crushed their foes in both illegal and legal manners. Whomever spoke against them tended to disappear. Either that, or they got payed off.
     Their communication advisors had to make sevendigit simoleons a year.

 
     Countyhall had pretty much banned them condocting business in Jericho, mainly because of their aggressive marketing. Even if the company had done their best charming the city counsil.
     But a professional business like MorcuCorp would never do such a simple thing as blowing up stuff. And if they suddenly decided to change their marketing, they would build bombs that was a lot more efficient than that. Countyhall would mostly be in rubble if that "company" were involved. Could be the work of a daughter business, but it still didn't make any sense.

  
     But if it wasn't them, who? And why? No matter what it seemed like, they had done a really good job at pointing the finger at MorcuCorp. It was just that, it was so perfectly made. And, to make matters worse, Marcos initial work still stood. He leaked what he was allowed to tell to the syndicate.
     And the damned press kept hanging around the place, asking questions. Yes, he knew that someone should have seen it coming, but he worked with local, organized crime at the moments. Not national security! Why did everyone think that if you were a cop, you worked with every single case that ever showed up? He blamed the crappy series and movies.
     If you were a podiatrist, you didn't know what the brainsurgeons were currently working on did you? But if you're a cop....

  
     He shifted around on the bench a bit, before leaning back onto the wall. The cool tiles felt comfortable against his hot skin. Showering after a workout was given, but it usually just made him hotter. He didn't really feel like going home just yet.
     Marco could have put some clothes on by now, but he wasn't exactely the shy type. He was the guy that struttet around in the warderobe, talking with the other blokes there in his birthsuite. That man that didn't have a towel around him in the sauna. He had no modesty and didn't care that others thought he was a bit much. He had nothing to embarassed about.

     For now he was more hung up on MorcuCorp.
     Ofcourse he'd told Vigdis, and she listened. But they couldn't do anything other than look at the evidence, even when their guts said otherwise. Not that they didn't try, but nothing was found. Digging through all that rubble, catalogizising and searching would take months at the smallest. By the time it was all done, it might be to late.

    

     Who would dare blaming something like that on MorcuCorp?
     But there was other possibilities than someone wanting MorcuCorp out of the way: Either someone wanted Jericho going after MorcuCorp, that massive coorperation would no doubt win and motion for vote of no confidence. And they would win, in the end; simoleons always won. That would open for new leaders in all leading and underling positions.

     Or worse; whoever did this wanted those positions for the corporation. With MorcuCorp sitting in the counsils, the city would become a playhaven for the famous and wealthy. It would add casinos, and casinos was just MorcuCorp speech for laundring simoleons. But it would still open for other actors than MorcuCorp. There was a reason why the citycounsil was against the corporation getting a foothold in this part of simnation.
     Could Christine be involved? She liked money, and wanted to be powerful. And if dumbdumb duckface fed her information, it was a possibility she sold it to MorcuCorp, or had been promised a position in the company. But was she really that type?
     Marco absentmindedly stroked his fingers over his jaw, he needed to shave soon. Maybe he should get some stubble again? Then he wouldn't have to shave that often.

     Whenever there was laundry of simoleons, it also meant more organized crime. It was an unending codweb of simoleons, smuggling, drugs, trafficking, violence and murders. The only way of destroying a codweb was taking all away at once, and they had to get rid of the spider making it. It was worse than a pyramide.
     Jericho had it's problems in those departments, but it would be nothing compared to what it would be if MorcuCorp had it's way with the city. And the city was far to naive to handle what would be coming. This type of crime would be directly in their face, and the sims involved tended to get younger every time he saw them. MorcuCorp wasn't any different than other criminals, it was all on the surface.

     Marco had been in the vicesquad a short while, and seen more than enough battered hookers. And he'd raided enough brothels to know why prostitution was just a modern name for slavery. probably a terminology made by men, to hide the truth about sexwork...
     Great, he wasn't even turning into his dad, he was turning into his mum..... But how to explain to sims that for that one happy hooker, there was tons in this city that wasn't. And that those highly illegal, pretty brothels had torturerooms. Even the stripjoints trafficked. They tricked young women, locked them in a house and forced them. Just so they didn't have to pay them a real salary. It always boiled down to simoleons.

 
     What kind of a man payed for sex anyway? It wasn't a humanright getting laid. If a man can't handle getting turned down, he wasn't a man anyway.
     The worst thing was that he'd started understanding the militant feminists. Who knew, maybe one day he would be standing outside some lingerie shop with protestsigns... yeah, maybe not... He'd probably try sleeping with some of them though. Kind of hot with women with fiery souls, fighting for their ideals.... 
     He rolled his shoulders again. The workout hadn't worn him out. It was his own fault for beeing in such good shape. He got tired, but recovered quickly. But his thoughts were full, not just of the case but of everything.

    
     Seeing Esther was harder than he'd thought. And he'd been terrified something had happened to her. But ofcourse she was at home with her idiot boyfriend, beeing pregnant and all. Marco sighed internally, who was he kidding- Esthers boyfriend was a great guy. Always had been, that bastard.
     His sister had been afraid Bashir and Milo had gotten injured, but Milo was home on daddy- leave and Bashir just had some minor injuries. He could have died though, Marco wouldn't shed any tears...

     He heard someone coming into the wardrobe, but didn't think to much about it. He was busy beeing dark for a change, or maybe he really had been all along? Maybe it was getting worse with age, just like with dad. Dad thought he hid it, but Marco saw the old man struggling to restrain himself. He just hoped the old man died before mum. If he didn't, they might end up with a problem.
     Rolling his shoulders again, he noticed the newcommer getting closer.

      Evening. Beautiful Nawars dark voice was soft and warm, everything he didn't feel at the moment. She looked as tired as he'd felt before the workout. Lukas' wife worked the ambulance, and he'd seen her around the site while they were working. She had known exactely what to do in the situation.
    They to had worked around the clock, and still was. Bombings tend to make sure a lot of people gets aftershakes. Either they have inhaled fumes, smoke and so on, or they get shocktreatment. Bet uncle Lukas enjoyed his wife beeing away all day and night. That crusty old raisin....

 
     Evening. Marco didn't put any clothes on. It was a mans locker room, and she wasn't supposed to be in there anyway. Why are you here? Even if it might seem a bit accusive, he made it sound like an ordinary question.
     I'm finally of work. But I wanted to go for a swim first. Nawars deep voice hung in the room, as mystical as the woman herself. Why she didn't want to go back to her kid made no sense. Or maybe she just really need some time to have dark thoughts? It was easy getting dark thoughts in their line of work. They picked bodyparts out of ruins after all.

     I saw you go in here, but you never came out. Nawar explained: I thought maybe you fell in the shower and hurt yourself. She was such a warmhearted woman wasn't she?
     A thin smile covered his face: That was thoughtful of you. How's your husband? He'd listened to Lukas and not contacted them again. But now Nawar had contacted him, that wasn't his fault now was it?
     Lukas is doing well, she was lying through her teeth. The guy was ancient and would likely drop dead every moment. For some reason Marco suspected he was getting ...darker... like his own dad. He'd looked so much up to Lukas, so him washing his hands had been a blow. He could have used his advice on Esther, but the fairy didn't want to talk to him anymore. Damn that fairy.

Are you going to put clothes on? Nawar suggested with a decent blush. She hadn't even had a sneak peek, which was a bit dissapointing.
     The smile never reached his eyes: I'm getting there. I think better when I'm naked. 
     She actually laughed, an undramatic laughter that made things seem a bit lighter: And what are you thinking about policeman? 
     If I should put clothes on.
     Nawar laughed again, and paused a while: I don't mind...
     No shit?

     These things went like clockwork for Marco, he could write an advanced manual for this. Nawar was a typical young woman with much older man: she'd fallen into the daddy- daughter trap. She needed to feel she was the one in charge, as she felt treated like a child at home. But, Nawar was a nice sim, so she couldn't be the one that continued. That would have to be him. Which suited him fine; he wanted to be in charge during sex. Not in some perv way ofcourse.

 

     So when beautiful Nawar straddled him, he just let her do it, pretended that he was slightly caught by surprise. Smelling mildly of chlorine, the taste had stuck to her sweet skin. Grabbing her softly around the waist when she started hesitating, made sure she stayed. Though he could have sworn he'd done something similar before.

     It might not be the best place for sweet lovin', but she wasn't complaining. As long as he got to be in charge, it was all good. Now he just needed to get her out of that damned swimsuit.
----------------------------------------------

     Drawing another deep breath, Oriana stepped forward, lifting her arm to knock on the door. She stopped, putting it back down. Biting her teeth so hard together that her jaws started aching, the arm went up again. Just to drop down her side, hangling like a withered old parchment before it crumbled and turned to dust.
     To think a bomb had gone off in the city. Bashir had been injured, he'd been inside county hall when it went off. Good thing the damage to the building wasn't that bad, because it meant no one inside it had died. The ones on the outside on the other hand.
     But realizing something might have happened to him, and that she hadn't told him how she felt. It just hadn't been a reason to.

     They had met afterwards ofcourse, not at the usual office but some other place. Though now he was even more difficult gettinga hold of than before. The only once at county hall now were investigators, soldiers and journalists. The latter pretty much crawling over the place, like maggots on a corpse.     Seeing him with that injured face threw her heart in a metalchurn, and she'd gotten so angry. Then she cried ofcourse, she did that a lot. Not that he could see it ofcourse, but afterwards in the car when the only once noticing was passers by, that pretended they didn't see.
     What if he laughed at her?

     And ofcourse when Oriana had gotten a hold of him, Christine had been there. The two of them had been on and off since school, and she sure wasn't dogfaced anymore. She looked like his hot boss!   
     Perfect Christine was with Bashir, with her Bashir. And they looked so good together it had to be a crime. Just to make matters worse; Christine had been nice to her. Now she was beautiful, successful, smart and nice! Oriana couldn't even hold a job, and forgot things all the time.       

   
     Oriana hadn't been thinking straight. She just wanted to run to him, to tell that she loved him. Not like she thought she had with her ex- husband, but for real. She loved him. Despite his unhealthy habit, and that he smelled like an old ashtray. She wanted nothing more than to kiss his bruises and nurse him back to health. Even if it was just lighter injuries and he would be perfectly fine as soon as they grew. It was the thought that counted.
     But Christine beeing there had been a icecold bucket of water in her face. Why did she have to be there? Couldn't she just not be there? Christine couldn't even look like a stupid blone, she had to look all sophisticated. Oriana never looked sophisticated, and snorted when laughing....

   
     So the only thing Oriana had gotten out was a usual: "how are you doing"- conversation. Christine had mainly had a one- way conversation anyway... didn't she ever shut up?
     Visualizing hitting herself over the head with a hammer, a mantra repeated itself in her head: Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid... Crushing her fingers around her bangs until it felt like the entire scalp would be torn away, she again hesitated.
     Oriana wanted to leave them alone, let them be happy together and have beautiful babies together. But as corny as it seemed, she longed to see him. She kept telling herself that if they just met one more time, it would get easier.

   
     She wished it had just been a physical attraction, but the incident with Jonny had scared her more than she even realized. It was easy with her ex- husband, he was shy, kind and gentle. He'd always been patient and accepted her "headaches" and "not tonights" with a mild smile.
     She strongly doubted Bashir would be anything like that. Sometimes she felt like she was beeing eyed by a wolf, but she could never decide if it was hungry or not. Or maybe he just thought she was a sheep?
     Which was why it was so difficult. She wasn't used to this, she didn't even know how guys were supposed to be like that way. What if Bashir was like Jonny, or what if he wasn't? What was she supposed to do then?

     Trying to stay away had been harder than she though, but... she lifted her arm to knock on his door before changing her mind again. Why was she even there, she was just torturing herself with this. But if she saw him one more time, then maybe that would.... what? Maybe it would what? It was a hard realization to come to.     Oriana hesitantly walked down the stairs, the railing had started turning cold after standing in the scorching heat all day. The painting had started falling off in smaller areas. Maybe it would get easier? It wouldn't get easier, it never did. She was to old for this anyway. But atleast her stomach settled when she walked away.
     Christine was probably there anyway. Stupid Christine with her perfect teeth and her perfect hair. Orianas hair didn't want to grow long.... stupid hair...

     Sometimes there are benefits to hesitating, other times it makes for embarassment. The door got ripped open by an clearly irritated Bashir, the slender body nearly dissapearing infront of the heavy door. A scent of tobacco followed him out, but it wasn't as strong as she'd assume.     He looked as startled to see her as she was, the irritation dissapeared. He quickly looked around himself: I thought I heard something. After a small pause, taking a deep inhale, he said: Why don't you come inside instead of standing here?
     Atleast she managed not to make to many stupid faces, as she felt like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookiejar.

     It was a strangely colourful house, very different from what she'd assume of him. On the other hand, redecorating might be a bit difficult when working around the clock. The superficial bruising on his face was gone, leaving that matted silked skin intact... why didn't she have pretty skin? Oriana wanted pretty skin to.
     Appereantly Bashir had thought she'd been a journalist sneaking around in the bushes.

     Oriana felt torn. Beeing around him had been difficult all the time, but lately she had started remembering her young years, and the rendesvous with Jonny. The rumours had been all around school, so Bashir knew about it. What if he thought she was into all that weird stuff? That would explain why he didn't seem to be able to make up his mind about her. Or it might be, because his "interest" was all in her mind.
     Offering her something to drink,. they sat in silence for now. He didn't even have any radio or tv on for company- said he was tired of hearing all the "what if" news.    

     Those journalist have stuffed those bloody mics up in my face non stop. Bashir pulled a disgruntled face, before relaxing. She had seen his face on tv, but far from as often as the other politicians. They mostly intervjued the mayor.
     And now, he grunted as he moved around a bit. Maybe he still was a bit injured: They are rolling around in the "what ifs". What if the bombs had gone of later, or earlier? What if they had been more powerful? What if this, what if that? 
     And what, he threw one skinny leg over the other, is up with those sims that was nowhere near the place, that keeps getting intervjued? They always talk about how scary it is because they were there a week before anything happened? Seriously, he made a small, irritated grunt: They are scared because nothing happened? Makes no sense...

     Oriana studied him the entire time, looking for signs of hidden injuries. As he took the last inhale of the sigarette, and put it out she was still staring. Thankfully he didn't light up another one. Hopefully it would get easier to breathe in there eventually.
     Couldn't sims get late shock reactions? Oriana wasn't sure what it was, but she had heard it on the tv. But Bashir seemed to be doing well, a bit irritated but other than that, very much like himself. Even that cold voice was as stern as it usually was. She knew he could be quite the bastard, but he never was to her.
     As most men, he seemed oblivious to her thoughts: I mean, why do sims care what could have happened? It didn't.

    She felt a familiar lump in her throat as her eyes watered up.
    What? He was adressing her this time around.
    But what if something had happened to you? She had to keep it a whisper, whilst doing her best not to cry. She was exhausted, to many things were happening for her poor brain to comprehend.   
     It didn't. Out of nowwhere he grabbed her hand, holding it in his. For some reason she always assumed he'd be just as cold to the touch as his voice.
     Oriana had planned to keep her tears in place, but found herself blinking hard to keep them away: It did. 

   
     She didn't notice his arms sliding around her; they were just there without any warning. The scent of fabric softener mixed in with smoke surrounded her, the sofa gently squeekes as he pulled her closer.
    For some reason Orianas tears stopped, and she felt her limbs getting heavy. It was nice resting her head against his bony chest, even if his collar bone nearly stabbed her eye out. Even if it didn't feel planned, it didn't give the impression of beeing an accident either. Especially when he gave her one slow, wet kiss that tasted of sour smoke and sweat tea.

   
     Bashirs thin arms were tense around her, slightly shaking under the strain. He felt like a bow at it's bursting point. Why was he hesitating anyway, was she that ugly? Feeling the tip of his tongue gently over her lower lip, she decided to stop caring.     He was a lot stronger than she'd anticipated, as his arms squeezed her increasinly harder against him. As his kissed became deeper and more demanding, Oriana felt her own sense of reason dissapearing. She didn't care about the "what if"s. They could wait until another day.
-------------------------------------------------------
Oh yeah, feeling sexy *cough*. I'm sorry if anyone felt like stuffing their head into the sand there, but it was time to traumatize the readers (and myself) again. Atleast it's not worse than Orianas "girltalk" as a teen right?

The reaper needed a picture, he was practically begging for it. No familiar sims was hurt during the strike. However the sims that passed, have already been forgotten. Except the boy there, I let him live.

Marco doesn't put a towel on, because he'd strut around naked all the time if I let him ;)

MorcuCorp is used as the "bad company" mainly because it's the only name I could remember from the game. Think they worked within Al-Simhara with reliqs, but it'll do anyway. Just imagine they have broadened their work ;)

Poses by: Extraordinare, Ohoh, Sea, Simsimi, Aikea Guinea, Mary36Jony, Matheus Serafim, Mypalsims, Imho, Elexis, Sunny. And that's Sunnys Cyrus Pink- Imaga in the second black and white picture. 

Thanks for reading

2.10 Always ahead

    
     Other than the rare sound of a car passing by, it was a calm day. The summer had stayed unbelievably hot, and if one were to trust the weatherforecast; it would stay that way. The polluted water nearby glittered in the sun, the usual fog that covered the surface was for once was gone. In the distance the silhouette of the city baked in the scorching heat. Damn, he loved this place. Marco was a bigcity boy through and through.
     This is bloody good stuff. Rylan had another cup of coffe.
     The family had finally pulled out their finger and gotten a new coffemaker. Iva and Gards ancient relique from the distant past had finally gone to the grave.
     Nothing beats a good cup of coffe, Joe said and Marco couldn't have agreed more. Even in this heat, coffe tasted good. 

   
     Together with the rest of the city, the family had spent a lot of time on the beach. Well, him and Oriana atleast, dad would catch fire. Marco loved it at the beach, and it wasn't all because of the beautiful ladies with the scarce clothes, or the fact that he had a great excuse for strutting around half- naked.
     There was always a nice breeze at the beach, and he could use the jetski, and tons of other fast objects!
    Why can't you listen to me, just for once?! Marco had worked hard to sound neutral, this one time it hadn't been fun that mainly had been on his mind.

   
     Oriana had always had quite a short fuse when it came to him, and sounded irritated as usual:  Everyone always listens you! You're always talking!
     Ofcourse he talked more than his sister, he was interesting. And it really wasn't something that important they discussed either.

    
     Putting an accusing finger in his face, Oriana said: You're jealouse! 
     Why the hell would I be jealouse? I've got nothing to be jealouse of! Really? Him beeing jealouse of someone? That was hardly believable. 

     
     You are! She exclaimed allknowingly. Bashir is the only guy that has an easier time getting women than you!    
     Marco swallowed his urge to snap back at her. That would just make it more appealing for her to keep up this, well whatever they were doing. And she was acting out because she felt like a failure due to her divorce. See, he knew how feelings worked.
     His sister just kept going, pulling an all knowing face: Yeah, that's it isn't it? The only guy in school that had more girls, was more popular and now is more successful than you!

   
     What a bucketload of crap, but Marco didn't wade down to her level. It was beneath him, besideds Bashir wasn't more successful, and sure as hell didn't have more women. There was no way in hell he had more women: Why can't you listen you me, just for once? Women never listened. Why didn't they ever listen: Bashir is not a good guy. He was right the first time, he was right this time.
     Oriana put her hands on her hips, it was always a bad sign when anything female did that: And just how do you know that?
 

   
     He didn't know, that dumbarsed duckfaced Bashir made all his senses go on high alert. He was a cop and knew this things. And, even as mean as it was, she wasn't pretty enough for a guy like Bashir to keep his interest going. Ofcourse he didn't tell her that, he wasn't completely heartless. Resigning he sunk his shoulders: I just know....   
     There's nothing called that. Oriana didn't sound as triumphant as he'd assume. Why do you even care who I meet? We're just friends anyway! She sounded so brought down by the fact, so Marco decided disliking that weasle even more. Since he made his irritating sister sad.
     Besides they wouldn't stay friends. It didn't matter how dead that weasels eyes were, they still lit up whenever his sister was around. Even if it was for a short while. Bashir had a scaring ammount of control over himself, but in the end no man had that much control. 

     Oriana didn't understand what had gotten into her lately: I'm sorry, she whispered. I don't mean to be such a bitch.
     She liked Bashir, and it seemed like he was interested to. But then it seemed like he wasn't. For some reason she just couldn't make the first move. Her heartbeat went wild, the palms of her hands got sweaty and her nose always shon red. And he was so slim and moved so elegantly, she felt like a walrus. She'd seen pretty sims giving them that "why is that guy with her" look.

      
     Don't worry about it. He grinned: I don't mean beeing such a nosy bastard either. 
     Well, you are a cop! And all was well in his sisters world again, even if it wasn't in his.

     Mahdis had been surprisingly nice, and even stopped biting other animals. He himself was also a lot calmer than he had been in ages, so maybe she was beeing nice because he wasn't stressing her out. It was strange that he felt so calm, since he had all reasons to be highstrung.
     But sitting in that beautiful weather, having a good cup of coffe with friends wasn't the worst thing one could do. It was such a rare accurance now a days. Things had been so much easier when they were younger, they just hadn't realized it.    
     Then again, it hadn't felt easier back then, so maybe it was more difficult beeing a teenager than a grown man?

     Joe stared at Meave, waiting for her to wake up. What? It wasn't serial killer creepy looking at someone while they slept! Atleast not as long as they didn't know about it. Stroking her hand to make the prosess go faster, she eventually stretched and opened her eyes.
     Did you sleep well? It was worth teasing her for falling asleep after sex, it was supposed to be the guy that did that. And ofcourse they were a real couple now, she wasn't just some one night stand to him.

     Meave had presented him with a tired smile and answered: I fell asleep because you're such a drag.
     So I'm a drag now am I? Joe made sure to poke her until she started whining: Stop it! I just woke up damnit!  
     She had been sleeping a lot lately, and he could have sworn her breasts had gotten a bit bigger. He touched them again, just to double check: Really Joakim? Again? Meave gave him a tired look.
     I'm just checking something, but if you insist.... She rolled her eyes at him. It had been worth a try.

     Taking a break in the eyerolling, she gave him a thoughtful look. Like she wanted to say something. Maybe she was going to break up with him! She couldn't do that, everything was so good now. But that would just be so typical wouldn't it?
     Hesitantly she asked: Can I ask you a very personal question?
     Ofcourse! Joe smiled at her: You can ask me anything! He didn't have any exciting secrets anyway. Well, there were a few from his younger years that weren't all good, mainly thanks to Marcos ideas. But they still weren't so bad they were unspeakable.
     What diagnose do you have? 
     Except that one.. 

     He coughed: Well, I have several really... Why? Please not that. Couldn't she ask who started the fire at the old scrapyard or something, or that forestfire? Mainly because it wasn't him, but he had been a part of it.
     Meave started looking nervous, and like she was about to cry. Please, don't cry! That meant he'd done something wrong, that's why women usually cried anyway wasn't it? It was a lot better if they cried because they injured themselves. Atleast he could fix that.
    It's okay honey! Just... what do you want to know? Why? I'll tell you, just.... This time it felt like he was rowing for his bare life: I'll tell you... He stroked her soft cheek.
     I'm pregnant.

     Joakim? Joe? Meaves nasal voice finally made him come back to the world again. Did you die for a second there? She tried hard not sounding nervous.
     He was going to be a dad, a father. It went a bit slow in there for the time beeing, but he was able to get a: That is the most amazing thing.... He did his best not to have a happydance in his undies, it could wait until he was alone. Pulling Meave closer, he kissed her before stroking her hair. Looks like his dreams were coming true! Exept the other sims in the house ofcourse. Atleast it was clear why she wanted to know about his condition.

     It's not hereditary... He mumbled into her hair, as he slid his arms around her.
     I know things like this mostly isn't genetical, but it tends to stay in the family. Her hair still smelled nice, it always did. Not that he was sniffing it.
     It's not heraditary.. Joe did his best comforting his girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child.... Shit... Meave didn't mean anything by it. It was natural that she wanted their child having a easy life, and to be prepared for any possible challenges. Why wouldn't she? The woman was in the army for crying out loud, beeing prepared was how she lived most of her life.
     How can you be so sure? You're not a doctor. Have you ever been to a doctor with this? Well, duh, he'd been in jail.
     It's anxiety, Joe answered again.
     One thing he loved about her, was how straightforward she was, as Meave said with dry voice: You see things that don't exist... Doesn't that make you bipolar or something? And that runs in families. 
     Joe kept stroking her hair, the short hairs tickling the palm of his hands: It's anxiety, several types; but it's still anxiety.
     That also runs in the family...
     Not this type, he murmured.

    Laying on top of her, she stroked her fingers through his hair as it tickled her nose. Joe figured he had to try easing her mind. After all, she was pregnant with his child... Holy shit, he was going to be a dad! Would it hurt the baby if he layed on her stomach? Maybe it's nose would get squeezed flat?
     Taking a deep breath Joe eased his girlfriends mind: You remember that our school was both elemantary, and highschool? He felt her chin rubbing against his head as she nodded. You remember our principal? Meave nodded again.

     Well, how to say this in a nice as possible way: She took a liking to me in elementary school....
     How does that cause anxiety? Meave mumbled into his hair, as he tried not putting to much weight on her stomach. Just in case it could hurt the baby. A very long silence as he felt her muscles stiffen, trying to keep her breath calm.
     Oh, she took a "liking" to you? And a long pause again: Really? You were just a kid? But....
     She used to tickle my neck..... Just the thought of it made him naseous, which is why he did his best to push the memory away. Which is why he had seizures. Jailtime didn't help either.

     Yeah.... Joakim felt awkward, not a lot of sims knew about it: So it's not psychoses, it's just the brain dealing with trauma. It might have been easier if he had talked to anyone, but he didn't like talking about stuff, he was a man. Men don't talk about things, they punch eacother. If that doesn't help they drink or have sex.
     Damnit, now she was crying for real: Sweety, don't cry. It's years ago! Joe did his best to comfort a pregnant woman, which turned out to be harder than usual. He'd never seen her cry before.
     Sims handled these things differently, and he had gone crazy.

     She stopped crying as suddenly as she had started, as she seemed to have an appifany: Is this why Marco has such a problem with pedoes? 
     Joe nodded: You might say that yes.....
     She leaned closer to him: Because of you, or.....
     Hell no, he wasn't going there. He hadn't planned to atleast, but then it looked like she was about to cry again: Don't cry babe.... She tried, but she didn't get very far! 
     Atleast when he started hanging out with Marco in high school she'd lost a lot of interest in him. Not that he had been left alone ofcourse, but the goodlooking blonde took a lot of weight off him. He'd never told Marco either, he'd known before anything even happened to him. He'd hand it to the big guy; he was a lot smarter than he looked. Guess the idea of stupid blondes wasn't all to correct.

     But the good thing is that our baby isn't going to be crazy... their baby. Damn, he was going to be a dad, it took a while before the idea sunk into his messed up brain. Shit, he was going to be a dad, and Meave was in the army! That meant he would be the main caretaker, and he was crazy! Crap! How the hell was he going to deal with a baby alone? He didn't respond well to stress.
     On the other hand, he was going to be a dad. Joe hid an euphoric giggle as Meave seemed so sad: Is it a boy or a girl? 
     It's to early to say yet, Meave wiped her nose: Damn hormones..

     Anyway, there we were, Marco said withoug that loud voice a lot if guys use, when telling those type of stories: She was on the kitchen counter and we're having a blasting nice time. Usually he wasn't one for handing out details, but this time it was different.

     Classy, Ryes voice was dry as he said it. He was quite a prude for a punk rocker. Wondered if other musicians pretended as much as he did?
     Joe was a bit stuck up to, as he put up a disgruntled face: I swear, if you've done anything on the counters here... He clearly wasn't impressed.
     Would you two shut up!! It's not the point!! It wasn't. He didn't feel a need to brag about this stuff, that was for men without confidence.

     Marco started again: So, the kitched right? It was one of those "open solution" types, or whatever they call 'em. It was small to, but no problem, we were all alone.

     All out of the blue, she looked loke someone just smacked her in the face, so I turn around.. He cleared his throat trying not to laugh before the story was over: I turn around, naked as a newborn baby with a full hard on! He didn't have a lot of shame in life after all.

     Hey Jonny!

  
     The end was met with dead silence, as both his mates looked completely empty for a second. Then Rye clearly had an idea; Jonny- turd doesn't have a sis... He was innocence incarnated sometimes, but Marco sure as hell wasn't. Then finally, the mean looking punk rocker nearly shouted: Bloody hell, you fucked his mum?!!  
     They laughed so hard it had to be heard throughout the entire city: What was she, like ten or something when she had him? Wasn't Marcos fault older women didn't look like it.
     Joe kept hicking out something, so Marco had to ask him several times before he finally got what he said: Haven't you traumatized that guy enough?
     Please, he'd just beaten him one time, or three, but he was a jerk and deserved it.

      Turned out she was married to his dad to! It just made them laugh more, even if it was a horrible thing to laugh about. Not that they cared ofcourse, they weren't married.
     Rye laughed: She won't be for long! 
     Jonny- turd keeps giving me angry looks for some reason... They laughed again. Marco studied the view of the city, he really liked it there. But with the new role he'd been given at work, he started wondering if he'd run out of luck. The syndicate had bitten on the hook, and he had started feeding them information. All superviced by Vigdis ofcourse.

     He couldn't believe how shitty he felt at dealing out information to the syndicate, and he didn't get anything back! Wasn't it supposed to be the point of all? He gave them something, they gave something back? They were ellusive as hell.
     On the good side, he was going to be an uncle again; Whenever a guy fathers a child, all his mates automatically becomes said childs uncles. That's how the rules were. And Joe had knocked up his cousin, so it was close enough either way. Wonder what his own uncle thought about it? Uncle Marek probably wasn't happy.

     The day was still beautiful, but he had lost some of his good mood. The snitch thing bothered him, and it seemed like a dead end. Weren't they supposed to contact him in some way? And this thing with Oriana and Bashir; It pissed him off majorly. He'd tried talking some sense into her, which was fruitless, and that bastard was pretty much impossible getting a hold of.

     
     Why ofcourse I can tell you about Bashir. Christine smiled at him. They had been on and off since highschool, so she knew that duckfaced piece of.... Well, she knew everything that was to know about him. For now he was just hoping she could give him atleast some dirt on him. Marco just made up some crap about it beeing policework. 

     
     Bashir is the best, she giggled. He's nice, charming, sweet and sooo good at... she coughed... his job! She laughed in a way that showed she'd practiced it a lot infront of the mirror. Marco wasn't that easily fooled though, she might look and act like a stupid blonde, but it was all a hoaxe.
     She was hanging around Bashir because she intended to lead the biggest construction company in Jericho. Hanging around him made sure she'd land the deals before anyone else did. 

     No really, she continued, making sure every little movement of her body pressed her breasts forward. Yeah, he'd seen them....

   
     She pushed her breasts forward again, yes, he'd noticed them already. He wasn't dead after all...
     But really, if anything bad can be said about him, is that he works way to much! But he is such a great boyfriend, and such a fascinating man to discuss with. You know, Christine leaned forward again, yes, he'd noticed them.... he knows so many things! Even the smartest people get their witts challenged!! And he's a great cook! I mean, he makes the most amazing vegetarian dishes... 

     
     I'm not a vegetarian or anything, she pressed her breasts forward again... but he nearly turned me! You know, he is really into animal rights, and has been one of the leading figures in increasing animal safety! Fencing in the highways, refusing to sell away sanctuarys for building out more factories, fundraising for animalretreats...

      Marco regrettet it, even as she pushed her breast forward again. He'd admit they were nice and all, but couldn't she shut up? .... I kept telling him that there wasn't any reason not to sell of land, but he just said to use the shut down factories!! 
     She leaned forward so he could look at her breast again: But it costs more! It's really silly isn't i? But under the new Mayor the stakes for starting up new factories are just so high!! I know the enviroment is important, but the new deals they are putting down for enviroment and safety are insanely high! I just don't understand how the city are going to get enough jobs or income when land are getting priced so high. You know it costs more for land to build a factory, than a home.. and the taxing are just getting higher! If it hadn't been for the marina and the families with old money, no one would ever set up shop here! It makes me wonder that maybe they are trying to stop the new....

   
     For the love of.... shut the fuck up!!! Why the hell didn't she stop talking?!
     Hey Christine! He tried interrupting her unending tirad of perfect Bashir information: Want to come back to my place? 
     He could have tried beeing a bit more charming about it, but there were several reasons not to. For once, she never stopped talking so it wasn't an option. Second, she wanted him anyway, and third: He wanted her just to be an arse to that duckfaced worm. Fourth, he was getting angry, so if he had sex he'd be happy again. Fifth; she really needed to shut up.

    
     Even women didn't give him the usual satisfaction as it used to, and it wasn't just Christine. Even if it was worth it just to get her to shut the hell up! He swore that was the only time a woman had gotten more quiet as he crawled between her legs, than she was before.

     It felt great whilst they were at it, but he always ended up feeling empty, or like he was beeing used. Which was a silly thought, he was a man and men liked random sex. Which he did, but it was afterwards when everything was over, and he went home alone or slept alone in his bed. Maybe he was having a midlife crisis? Wasn't he a bit young for that? 

     
     Marco? He'd recognize that world everywhere in the world. It might not sound special to others, but it did to him. For some reason speaking with her on the phone was easier, and had made him think meeting would be just as easy.

   
     It wasn't, especially not with that little surprise: Hi, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. Esther had changed her look, but all in all the difference wasn't that much. The sun still made her fiery hair burn, but for now that wasn't what he noticed.
     You're a difficult woman getting hold of. He smiled back at her, still doing his best not to stare at the obvious.
     Late shifts sucks, she said with corny voice: It makes it hard to have a life. 
     Clearly not so difficult that all parts of her life got affected. 

     Congratulations.... he motioned to her swollen stomach.
     Stroking her hands over the belly, she smiled at him: Thank you. 
     Everyone was popping out babies now it seemed. Only difference with Esther was that he should have been the father. He tried not thinking about how life would have been if they stayed together. It was just a terrible way of punishing oneself. But this was really just rubbing his face in it. 
 

     Who's the dad if I might ask? 
     My boyfriend. We weren't really planning on it, but when the deed was done, we decided to keep her. A girl then. A little babygirl that should have been his. How are things with you? Esther smiled at him, that mild voice winning over the summerbreeze. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and stroked over her belly. He actually felt the tiny life moving in there, the little one that should have been his. 

Dump him.

     Esther blinked quickly, looking confused and like the blue sky had fallen over the head: Huh?!
     Dump him.

     You're telling me to dump my boyfriend? The father of my unborn child? 
     Yes. He aswered.
     Why? How could she keep pretending? 

      You don't love him.

      
     What?! Esther had started repeating herself.
     You don't love him, so dump him. 
     Esther rarely raised her voice in public, and this wasn't an exception. Even if she clearly was getting angry, she was a redhead after all: I'm not dumping my boyfriend you stupid blonde! Why would I ever do that?

      
     You love me, not him. 
     She looked like she'd been tossed from the sky this time: You are so full of yourself! You actually think I'll just dump the father of my child for you? You know, this is why we got divorced!! Esthers voice was just as calm as it had been the entire time, but she was working herself up in a rage even if she hid it.
     No. Marco wasn't backing off though, when he was right he was right: It ended because we were young, and you freaked out when you realised there was a chance I'd die in the line of duty, and you'd be left alone.

     What... she was stuttering now.... What.... You are just.... You are to much! Esther threw her arms in the air and waddled off.
     She hadn't mentioned a word about not loving him. He'd tried phoning her, but she'd texted to leave her alone. Maybe he actually was wrong? Though he'd give her right that he might be a bit much.

     Hey! Oriana looked depressed, as she often had lately. Because of Bashir no doubt. Marco still wanted to strange him whenever they met. Which they did to often, because of his and his sisters friendship. Dad hated his guts to, but mum liked him ofcourse. And Joe thought it was fun that he pissed him off.

     She sat down together with them, and helped herself to coffe: Oh wow! This is good! Is it a new brand?
     New coffemaker! Joe grinned at her, and she smiled back at him. It wasn't that odd the two of them got along well. They were both a bit strange, and Joe was a nice bloke. Wasn't his fault he was crazy either. And he was very proud of the new machine.
     She closed her eyes and savoured the taste: So good.... she whispered, eventually opening her eyes again: And the weather is so beautiful! Hey! You guys wanna go to the beach? That was actually a good idea.

     A loud, long roaring thunder came out of nowwhere. A type of sound that was felt against the chest, threatening to knock the air out of you. Or it would if they had been closer to the epicentre.

     What the fuck was that? Rye was so naive at times.
     Oriana sounded like she had lost all her breath: Was that the county hall? A faint sound of sirens appeared at the same time as Marcos beeper went off. But he was already leaving for the station. They had trained for this after all.
     Stay here until I tell you otherwise! He ordered over his shoulder as he left them.
--------------------------------------------------------
So a lot of small things happening in this chapter, all in the lovely misuse of retrospective technique.

Meave and Joe are having a baby. Marco and Esther have talked and Oriana is still putting the moves on Bashir, even if he's not very responsive.

If anyone missed it, there's been an explotion, and again there won't be any policework. (Come on, you didn't think I'd let sims live in peace for this long without killing anyone?) Don't worry though, there will be even more retrospective techique next chapter! Yay!

Thanks for reading :)

And if anyone wonders why I'm obsessing with coffe, it's because I don't drink it. So now I never have anything to offer when people are visiting. Coffe is important.

Poses by: Mary36jony, Aikea Guinea, Maximum, Sea, Sunny, Ahirucanet, ohoh, Simsimi, Zhippidy, IMHO, Mypalsims