Pairings/Characters: Kristen Bouchard
Genres: Drama, A Touch Of Horror, Suspense
Summary: Kristen Bouchard gets a taste of what her life will soon be like before she meets priest-in-training David Acosta and begins work with the Catholic Church.
Date Of Completion: January 12, 2020
Date Of Posting: February 1, 2020
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Robert King and Michelle King do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 917
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: This story takes place before the first episode of the series, Genesis 1 (The Pilot) (1x1).
That are to come,
Such wicked, wicked things
Second to none.
Kristen Bouchard sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop open in front of her. She had to get these notes organized before court tomorrow.
She sighed. As long as her husband was still in Nepal working as a mountain climbing guide, it was up to her to keep the home fires burning, not to mention paying the bills and taking care of their four young daughters.
She missed climbing. She missed Andy. Sometimes she just wanted to be free.
Immediately guilt hit her, no doubt a vestige of her Catholic upbringing. Kids meant responsibility, and Kristen was tired of responsibility. She was tired of testifying in court and tired of her salary being stretched too thin.
She sighed again. It was no use whining.
Buck up, kiddo! You could be a lot worse off than being the mother of four beautiful girls and the wife of a sexy adventurer.
Though she wouldn’t mind if the adventurer was around more.
Still, she kind of liked making decisions on her own. Responsibility could be a drag, but it could also be a lift, a sort of freedom, too.
She worked on her notes, smiling wryly as she thought about Catholic guilt. Lapsed Catholic or not, she couldn’t escape guilt. Like the Army, the Church never truly let you go.
Onward, Christian soldiers.
She glanced at her bedside clock. 11:57. Great. Well, at least the girls were asleep. Maybe if she buckled down and finished this she could get some sleep, too. Rubbing her eyes, she studied her notes. Minutes ticked by. The grandfather clock in the hall struck the hour of midnight.
Kristen looked up. Was one of the girls out of bed? But they would call her ‘Mom’, not by her first name. And would they whisper instead of calling?
Silence. Kristen shrugged. It was late and she was tired. She went back to her notes.
She looked up with a frown. “Okay, who’s playing around? You’re supposed to be in bed.”
She heard a noise out in the hall. Irritated, she bounced off the bed and into the hallway. She looked up and down but it was empty.
Kristen went to her daughters’ room and quietly opened the door. All four were sound asleep.
She closed the door just as quietly and her frown deepened. She checked the bathroom but of course no one was there.
“Damn,” she whispered.
She decided to ignore everything. It was probably just her imagination, anyway.
Kristen debated on whether to brew some instant coffee but decided against it. She would never get to sleep if she drank coffee!
Instead she headed back to her bedroom. She sat down on the bed and flexed her fingers. Time to knock this out.
She got busy and finished in half an hour. Triumphant, she closed her laptop and got ready for bed. After brushing her teeth and changing into pajamas, she gratefully climbed into bed, pulling the covers up behind her.
Kristen settled under the covers, already half-asleep.
Kristen twitched, moving restlessly.
She mumbled, moving again.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Wha…?” She slowly lifted her head. A chill prickled along her skin. Fully awake now, she tossed aside the covers and huffed out of the bedroom, stomping barefoot down the hall. She opened the door to her girls’ room.
She listened carefully. Was one of them feigning sleep?
No, breathing is too natural.
She quietly closed the door. A creak sounded on the staircase.
“Who’s there?” she said sharply.
The silence unnerved her. She returned to her bedroom, put on sneakers, and grabbed a baseball bat from under the bed. She went down the hallway and reached the head of the stairs. She listened hard.
She crept down the stairs, inching her way through the foyer, down the hallway and through the living room and kitchen. Heart pounding, her fingers curled painfully around the bat.
She reached the back door and opened it. The cool air of a September evening brushed against her skin.
Her office was located in the shed a few yards from the house. An El train clacked on the tracks above her head.
She felt her blood chill as she opened the office door. She turned on the overhead light.
The office was empty. Nothing seemed disturbed. The only sound was that of the wind.
She began to turn away when she noticed something on the floor by her desk. She bent down and retrieved it.
It was an onyx-and-silver rosary. She hadn’t seen it in years. As a lapsed Catholic, she hadn’t attended Mass in years, either. Puzzled, she put the rosary away in a desk drawer.
Kristen took a last look around the room. Satisfied no one was there, she shut off the light and closed the door.
Odd, that a symbol of her old religion would turn up. She hadn’t thought of rosaries or anything else associated with Catholicism in months.
Oh, well. I must really be overworked. Time for sleep.
Kristen went back to bed, blissfully unaware that her life was about to be once again entwined with the Catholic Church…and its enemies.
Inside the office shed the shadows shifted, the outline of a Cheshire cat-type smile glinting in the moonlight. The hiss of
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