:January 26th, XX47; Sunday.

:RESOLUTION BETWEEN PROTAGONIST AND ANTAGONIST

•~~~~•

"I'm exhausted."

Logan held his head in his hands, sitting silently on the couch, his husband at his side and rubbing his back. Logan's laptop was on the coffee table, and at that moment they were researching any lawyers they could hire at a short notice, but the only people they could find that could talk to them before 1 PM the next day were free public defenders. And, neither of them even had a story yet that they could use to explain what happened to Rachel without making it seem like Logan had been the one to cause her death.

"I'm exhausted too, Logan. I think we're just gonna have to go with a public defender."

"That won't work, Patton, I'm going to go to jail."

"Well, I- maybe it will? Right? Just because the person we choose is a public defender doesn't mean they won't be a good lawyer."

"I know, but still. It's a maybe. We have absolutely nothing to say and I'm sure the court will question both of us, I- if one of us breaks and says something wrong to our story then we're done for. One small slip up and I'll be sent right to jail. Just like that."

"There's a chance that won't happen."

"That's quite optimistic."

Why did he ever think killing his mother would be a good idea..?

"...Maybe we just need to take a break from thinking about it," Patton placed a hand on Logan's shoulder, gently.

"When else will we have time to figure this out?"

"Let's eat something. Are you hungry? If we have some lunch we might feel a little more prepared and then we can start talking to someone and get ready for tomorrow. Maybe we just need to stop thinking about it for a solution to come to mind."

Logan sighed. "I suppose that's all we can do now... stress likely isn't helping us."

"I'll make us some food, then."

Both stood up and intertwined their hands. Logan shut his computer and both made their way into the kitchen, Patton getting out the ingredients for what seemed to be grilled cheese. Logan leaned against him.

"I really am exhausted," he mumbled after a moment or so.

"Do you wanna take a nap, instead?"

"No, no, you already got out the ingredients. And we have to work more when we're done, I don't want to feel groggy while doing that, or-"

Patton sighed and turned towards Logan. He leaned forward, slowly kissing him, placing his hands gently on his husband's shoulders. Logan kissed back, of course, though a bit confused as both pulled away. Patton smiled gently at him.

"Relax, honey. Isn't that what you told me? This is gonna be a lot harder if we're jumpy all the time. Go upstairs, I'll finish the food and we can heat it up after our nap."

"...Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll be up there in a few minutes, okay? Go fall asleep, you need the rest."

Logan sighed. He supposed it was hard to fall asleep the night before... Patton was right.

"Alright. I'll... I'll be upstairs, then. I love you."

"I love you too."

With another quick kiss, they let go of each other for what they realized was the first time that day, and Logan slowly made his way upstairs, past his son's bedroom where he assumed he was watching YouTube or just doing something to preoccupy himself when he should really be doing homework. But Logan didn't care much, they all really just needed to relax lately.

And now, he was honestly happy he could go lay down and even be alone for just a few-

"Oh my fucking god."

Remy.

He was standing in the middle of Logan's bedroom, and upon seeing him Logan almost screamed, but the fact that Remy was clearly in some sort of ghostly-form yet was visible to Logan frightened him into silence. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked pissed, unhappy to be where he was, as he always had.

"Shut up and listen to me. You-"

Logan stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "No. No, I'm not letting you into my mind, Remy. You're the reason my life is falling apart right now, you asshole!"

"Oh, you brought that shit on yourself. Could you at least let me explain why I'm here? It took a lot of effort to be able to appear to you, ya know."

"And does it look like I care?! You're the person who got me into this shithole I'm figuratively standing in, so could you please-"

"Awwe, classic sibling rivalry, Croft. Now, listen, I-"

"You are not my sibling. Could you please-"

"Uhm, Croft, shut up."

"Stop cutting me off. You-"

"Bitch."

"I asked you to stop, y-"

"Can you shut the fuck up for one second? Goddamnit, I-"

"No, you need to shut the fuck up, I am trying to-"

"LOGAN."

Logan startled at Remy's sudden yelling of his own name, and then Logan grew confused because it was his own name, and not his last name. A moment passed. He let out a small scoff.

"...That is the first time you've ever called me by my name to my face."

Remy rolled his eyes, adjusting his sunglasses with his middle finger. "Whatever. Croft, Logan, asshole, whatever. Now. I would like you to give me a moment of your clearly precious time, because believe it or not, I'm trying to help you here."

Logan scoffed again. "Hah- help me? The only thing you've ever done to me is hinder my life experience."

Remy crossed his arms. "Look, it's not for your sake, it's for Joe's, alright?! I could care less about you, or your husband. But Joe? He is my nibling, whether you wanna acknowledge that or not, and-"

"You are not my brother and you will never be my brother."

"-And he deserves a better life than you or Patton."

Logan glared at him.

"Can a serial killer be trusted, Remy? I think not."

Remy stared at him blankly for a moment, but then he began to smile, which turned into a laugh, leaving Logan once again confused, standing still and watching the ghost of his greatest enemy laughing in his presence.

"Oh- hun, that's- that's hilarious."

"And why is that?"

Remy smirked. "The definition of a serial killer is a person who murders three or more people, usually in service of abnormal psychological gratification, with the murders taking place over more than a month and including a significant period of time between them. So yeah, I'm a serial killer, I've killed a lot fucking more than three people and I did it from age twelve to twenty-eight. But you know what?" He faked a gasp. "Patton murdered ten people over the course of two months... so he is also a serial killer. Maybe there isn't much of a time period between them, but there certainly was one. And what about you? Before you killed Rachel, you were not one, because you killed four people in about three and a half weeks, maybe. But now you are, because it's been thirty years since highschool and you killed two people recently. So, yeah- I'm a serial killer! But you are, too. And so is your fucking husband."

Logan was speechless, flustered into silence. This was the first time he'd heard Remy say so much, let alone so much that was technically correct.

"Now, let me repeat your question, my darling half-brother... can a serial killer be trusted?"

Logan groaned between his teeth, causing Remy to almost snort. "...Goddamnit- fine. I will listen to you, for one minute and one minute only."

Remy smirked. "Then I hope you're counting."

With a simple clearing of his throat, Remy sat down with his legs crossed on Logan's bed, and Logan crossed his arms.

"Alright- so, starting off, I was watching when you killed mom, and-"

"Do not call her that."

"She's my mother, too."

"That- ...whatever."

"As I was saying, then. I was watching when you killed her, so I know you put her fingerprints on that knife, too, and that's really gonna help you here. To be honest, you're kind of stupid for not figuring out you can say it's a suicide. You've literally done that in the past, too."

"Are you trying to help me or not?"

"I am. Doesn't change the fact that I hate your guts, jackass."

"I- ...Well, they've already found my fingerprints on that knife as well, what am I supposed to do about that?"

"Easy. It was literally her birthday. The knife was a birthday present, you touched it when you gave it to her."

"I suppose I could say that... but- no. My mother- I don't believe there's any reason she'd kill herself. Or perhaps there is, but not one that I can prove."

"Well, Logan, depression's a bitch. I would know. Rachel was a divorced mother who's only living son wouldn't even talk to her. And if that isn't enough, I got Emile- my amazing husband- to stalk her Facebook page and he told me the multiple posts on there mocking teenagers with mental health issues could be framed as a classic case of belittling those you're scared to identify with."

"And what qualifications does your- er... Emile, have, then? Why should I listen to him?"

Remy laughed. "Oh, you wanna play that game, huh? He's got a bachelor's in anthropology and spectrology, plus a doctorate in both counseling psychology and clinical social work, so you can shut the fuck up, because someone out there is actually smarter than you."

"...Ah."

"Also, you're- like, literally Rachel's son, you can say she wasn't feeling well recently and there won't be anyone to prove you wrong. She was drunk when she died, too. It all adds up, and all you have to do is put the pieces together for everyone else at that trial tomorrow."

"And how would you know this would all work out? How am I supposed to know you're not setting me up from beyond the grave for even more despair, besides from what you've already caused in my life?"

Remy was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "I can't explain it to you, but I was granted access to something for a very limited time, and... well, let's just say there's only eight chapters left in this story. And that small number guarantees you a happy ending."

"...Excuse me?"

He hummed. "Just trust me on this one, okay, babes?"

Logan looked down to the floor, furrowing his eyebrows. What other options did he have? He hated to admit it, but this seemed to be a decently solid plan. There weren't any holes in it and clearly, Remy had taken the time to think everything out, even going as far to get his husband to help with finding fake evidence.

It just might work.

"...I will consider it."

"You better, if you want this all to go well," he smirked. "How about a thank you, then? For your oh-so-helpful half-brother?"

"No."

"Fine, fine. I'll be off, then." He glanced to the ceiling. "Don't expect me to come back. Like, ever. I hated this."

"I sincerely hope I never see you again."

"Mhm."

And with that, the ghost of Remy Cafe vanished, into the wall and seemingly out to the street. Logan continued to stare at the spot he had been sitting, and then he grimaced, a shiver going down his spine.

This was all... very odd.

Soon enough he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then his husband slowly opened the door behind him, slipping in and shutting the door quickly behind himself. He placed a hand on Logan's shoulder and gave him a confused look.

"Whatcha doing? Why aren't you in bed?"

"Uhm..."

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. Logan grabbed his hand, and gulped.

"...I-I can see ghosts now, too," he mumbled. Patton's breath hitched.

"You don't mean..."

"I do. It was him."

Patton's grip on his husband's hand tightened, and he moved closer to his side. "I- what?! Why was he here?! Is he still here? Do I need to-"

"It- it's fine, Patton, he's gone now. He... god, I'll never believe it, but he was trying to help me."

"No he wasn't. Why would he ever do that?"

"He said it was for the sake of Joe. I suppose he just... doesn't want him to have to deal with his father being in jail."

Patton pursed his lips. "I... well, what did he say?"

Logan sighed. Him and Patton sat down on the bed, and Logan went through and explained all that Remy had told him. Him and Patton both agreed that it seemed to be a solid plan, even if it was given to them by someone they would rather not name.

It was a terrifying thought... but perhaps Remy's advice was advice meant to be followed.

•~~~~•
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See ya in the next chapter!
~Maxx(SanderShipper)🎓