P. Stormcrow

Talk to the neighbors, he said. Make conversation, he said. Understand what you are fighting for, he said.

Finn held her head in her hands, trying to drown out the yelling from the couple upstairs that only exacerbated her pounding headache, courtesy of a new bottle of rum she had bought then emptied the contents of the previous night. It had helped her sleep all right. But she had deep regrets this morning as she woke up at four a.m. even as she nursed the cup of water in front of her.

More screaming. Something shattered. Then blessed silence.

She took a chance, peeling her hands away from her ears to take the mug, sipping with care. What she wanted was coffee, but the thought of getting up and shuffling around the small kitchen to make it made her want to hurl.

It was a Saturday. She didn’t have to work, which meant she could just go straight back to drinking. The prospect sounded even more tempting than she had expected and her gaze traveled toward the cabinet where she now stored her liquor.

“Come on. Up,” she muttered to herself. Yelling started again though she wasn’t sure if it was from the same unit. The idea of spending the rest of the weekend drunk grew on her, enough to give her one last boost of motivation to rise from the chair she sat on and plod towards her target.

She reached for the top shelf and sighed as she wrapped her fingers around the neck of another glass bottle, already half emptied of its contents. Upon the successful retrieval, she made her way to the couch, and continued her binging.

The light had grown brighter by the time she came to, but the headache only returned with a vengeance. A groan spilled from her lips while she shielded her eyes and squinted.

At least it was quiet. Something dug into her though, and she pushed her hips up to reach back until she could push her phone out from underneath. Fortunately, she hadn’t cracked the screen.

It was only nine a.m. 

She let out a long sigh and wondered if there was some kind of magic that would cure hangovers. It was worth researching, but for now she would settle for a shower and some more water. And not necessarily in that order.

The cell in her hand vibrated. She brought the device to her face and read the caller ID. “Fuck.” A moment of indecision tore at her before she sat up, cleared her throat, and answered.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Dad!” The forced cheer sounded fake even to her own ears.

“Got time for your old man?”

“Of course.” Finn swung her legs off the couch and pushed herself up. “Shit.” She caught the bottle just as it slid off the side. At least her luck held. It was empty.

“You okay there?”

“Yups.” The last thing she wanted her father to discover was how hard she had been hitting the liquor as a sleep aid.

“How are you settling in there?”

“I’m good Dad. It’s good.” And it was true. In contrast to the first week or two, most boxes were unpacked now and there was even more furniture than she started with. Jackson and Olivia had kept sending her links online, enough that she had caved and bought a few pieces. Hence, an actual small dining table and chairs.

“And how are the Strangers treating you?”

And there it is. Though retired, her father had always maintained an active interest in her job. 

“They’re fine.” Finn paused, then added. “They’re a solid team.” At least she was showing a more expansive vocabulary now than just ‘good’ and ‘fine’.

“And the cases? How are you adapting to field work?”

Her mind flashed back to the last two she worked. To the near misses. To the insane poltergeist and the odd ceremony. To those damn cats. “You know I can’t talk about them.”

“Yeah. Yeah. But you hear things about that department of yours.”

Finn rolled her eyes though he wouldn’t see the gesture. It was better that he didn’t, anyway. “Dad, stop fishing.”

“Okay, okay.” 

She could picture him putting a hand up in the air in surrender and chuckled. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, getting along. There’s only so much to talk about with a retired life and all. Not like I’m off saving the world.”

He sounded more tired than she expected, and alarm bells ran in the back of her head. “Hey, you did your time.”

“I know.”

“Did you ever join that lawn bowling club?” Despite her throbbing headache, her dad had proven to be enough of a distraction for her to move across the apartment to retrieve more water. She held the glass to her lips.

“Well…”

… what you are fighting for…

Fuck. The doctor had gotten into her head. But the meaning of his words hit her at last. Her old man had thrown himself into work after her mom left them. Now that he had retired, he had little to spend his time on, not even a hobby he could latch on to.

“Dad!”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be the one grilling you right.”

Finn laughed and winced, grateful that this wasn’t a video chat. 

A sudden loud crash cut off the sound. However, unlike the previous one, this sounded like it was right outside her apartment, close enough that it piqued her curiosity. 

“I’ll call you back soon.”

“Everything okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. You take care of yourself and be careful.”

“You too, Dad.” But even as she muttered those words, her attention had already strayed as she stalked toward the small foyer. There was no peep hole, so she hung up, stuck her phone in her pocket then opened the door with the chain still linked. Not that it would do much if someone gave a hard shove thanks to the cheap material the lock was attached to, but it made a good deterrent.

To her surprise, the kid who had spilled the box of content in front of her unit couldn’t be over fourteen. Perhaps that was what made her unlock and emerge to help. 

He jerked up, startled, but sucked his head back down. “Thanks,” he muttered under his breath.

“No problem.”

“Hey Jonas, the—” Another male voice started and stopped. “Oh crap. You okay?”

Who the hell said crap these days and in these parts especially? Finn rocked back on her heels to look up and found herself caught by deep chocolate eyes framed by thick black-rimmed glasses.

“I’m good.” Jonas rose to his feet, lifting the box with him. 

Finn stood as well, more on automatic than with any thought, all too conscious of the sweatpants and ratty T-shirt she was in. Fuck. She stank of alcohol, too. What the hell is wrong with me?

Glasses neared and offered her a warm smile, regardless. “Thanks for your help. I’m Ethan. Sorry I’d offer a hand but—” he nodded toward the two stacked bins in his arms.

Jonas rolled his eyes and walked down the hall with his box into the unit to the right of hers.

She cleared her throat. “Finley. Finn.”

“Well, pleased to meet you.”

At that precise moment, an elder lady stuck her head out, three units down. Mrs. Hudson was the only other person in this building she had met before, and only because she had a penchant to stick her nose into her business. She also seemed to have a sixth sense for who to annoy.

“Ooo, looks like we are getting some new neighbors!” She emerged from her own unit, supported by her cane. Great. Time to g-t-f-o.

Finn flashed Mrs. Hudson a quick smile, but refocused on Ethan. “Yeah. Um… I’m just going to—” she pointed at her apartment.

“Oh yeah, of course.”

She didn’t wait, but fled back inside before Mrs. Hudson could catch her up in the chatter. Part of her felt for her new neighbor who was about to be caught in some of the most effective questioning she had ever seen in her life.

Sometimes she wondered if Mrs. Hudson was ex-FBI herself. 

Nah, she wouldn’t be living here if she was.

A twinge of guilt plucked at her as she imagined the conversation Ethan now found himself trapped in. But it wasn’t enough to go out again. Nopes.

She took two steps toward the bathroom.

The voices outside stopped.

It was none of her business.

One peek.

She turned and eased the door open a crack.

“They went inside to unpack.” Mrs. Hudson stood, both hands folded over the curve of her cane, a chuckle on her lips. Her bent figure remained still though, making Finn wonder how she knew. 

She flushed and cleared her throat. “Yeah. K.” 

The older woman broke into a sudden rattling coughing fit, enough that her body shook and her grip on the walking aid slipped. In an instant, Finn rushed to her side, catching her.

“Ah, thank you.” Her neighbor wheezed and tried to take deep breaths. “These lungs aren’t what they used to be.”

Finn glanced at her apartment three doors down. It had never felt farther. She hesitated only for a split second. “Why don’t you come in for a bit? Have a seat and some water first?”

Surprise widened Mrs. Hudson’s eyes. She gave Finn a toothy grin before another cough took her expression away.

“Come on.” Finn guided her inside. She had a clean glass somewhere, she hoped.

Connections, he meant.