“IS THIS EVEN a good plan?”

The metro station is a place Ellie-Marie avoids if she can afford it.  There's never a moment of silence nor an inch of space provided from the strangers New York City has to offer, overloading every possible sense in the world while adding enough anxiety for Ellie to shut down for at least a week.  Even now, marching in the middle of their Ghostface-hunting group, she can feel herself growing hyper-aware of every face she can make out through makeup or masks.  There's no safety in public places, she knows.  It'd be safer to be secluded; at least they'd be able to run.

Unlike Ethan,  she's willing to keep these grievances to herself.

“You don't have to come if you don't want to,”  Tara snaps at her side, not sparing a look Ethan's way as they round the next set of stairs.  She's not let go of Ellie's hand once since leaving the lobby,  not even when added safety came in the form of Abi at her side and Dad just in front of her.  For the first time the impossible has been achieved: staying in a group while navigating the subway.  

The only one trailing a little behind is Ethan, making his displeasure more than known as though making up for his slowness.

“So we just peel off and the killer picks us off one by one?  No,  thank you.”  Ethan scoffs.  His arrogance makes Ellie's nose crinkle in distaste, now shooting a glance over her shoulder to eye Buffy.  Perhaps her suspicions of Ethan are unwarranted,  maybe she's holding the person who dares to date her sister to a near impossible level,  but knowing this doesn't dampen her caution in the slightest.  For once she's the one confident in her movie knowledge: never trust the boyfriend.

Buffy, on the other hand,  simply cuts Ethan a sharp look.  “Why do you think we're going to the theater?  There's not gonna be a one-by-one sequence.  Besides,  those fit for sci-fi horror more,  like 'It' or 'Alien'.”

“You think a serial killer abides by horror movie rules?”

“They always go by the rules,”  Randy cuts in.  From his place beside Dewey he's paused,  being swept towards the back by the crowd.  He doesn't seem to care, narrowing his eyes in the same glare Mindy is silently wielding.  “They just don't realize it.  Funny how they recognize the genre but don't recognize their patterns,  isn't it?”

“How do you know-”

“Guys,”  Sam scolds,  her quiet voice still stern enough to break through the chaos of the subway.  “Let's just get to the theater.  You can argue over horror movies or whatever later.”

“It isn't arguing if one of them is blatantly wrong,”  Mindy points out.  For an instant Ellie-Marie can't help admiring how she's somehow managed to slow down in a place that's keeping her moving by force alone, drawn momentarily from the mental rewind of the horror movie their lives have become by how she almost commands the space around her.  Rory's been teaching each of them a thing or two,  there's no denying,  but Ellie doesn't get the chance to enjoy how annoyed Ethan looks before she's being pulled along.

Into the subway car.

Tara doesn't let go.  Even if Abi didn't have a hand on her back or their group hadn't moved as one most of the time they've been walking,  Ellie isn't too sure she could have hung back due to the iron-clad grip currently latched around her hand.  

“Mindy!”  She shouts,  tugging lightly on Tara's hand.  Their group is still making their way through the doors,  pushing through the crowd the best they can with Chad bringing up the rear,  but that still leaves…

“Randy!”  Julie calls out,  attempting to push past Danny.   “Randy!  Mindy!”

Mindy rushes forward through the crowd but it's no use,  fists coming up to bang uselessly on the window.  Ellie-Marie can feel the dread pulling in her stomach as she reaches for the pole, glancing over to Tara.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“She'll be fine,”  Tara assures, pulling out her phone with a frown.  “We'll meet her there.  Chad,  can you text her?”

“Already am.”

“What about Dad?  Or Ethan?”  Buffy asks,  barely audible over the chattering around them.  “Are they gonna come with her?”

“They'll have to,”  Chad answers.  The way he's fidgeting only makes Ellie all the more disconcerted, glancing over Tara's shoulder to check the location.

“Does she know where the theater is?”

“Randy does,”  Julie doesn't sound too convinced even as she tries to assure their group, reaching over to squeeze Buffy's shoulder.  “He'll get them there.  Dewey, could you like… track him?”

Dad furrows his brows before the question seems to click, opening his mouth to speak before settling on shaking his head.  “I'm not an officer anymore,  Jules.”

“I can track Mindy,”  Rory offers.  Ellie can't help the look she shoots over Tara's head,  a wide-eyed question that begs to know what the hell she's doing.  Rory meets her gaze,  shakes her head in a clear message.  She seems to always know what she's doing,  but Ellie isn't too fond of her setting herself up.  Not even now.

“You have her location?”

“I have everyone's location, Chad,”  rolling her eyes in a way that's almost effortless Rory pulls out her phone,  holding it up to show off the screen.  “Give me some credit here.  Not even your sister buys into the dumb blonde trope.”

“I’m not calling you dumb,  I'm just asking!”

“So you're a detective now?”

The bickering provides a familiar background for Ellie to zone out of the conversation,  taking the opportunity to observe those around them.  The subway car is packed,  not an inch of space provided for any of the passengers,  and their now-divided group seem to be the only ones who aren't in costume.

“TT,”  she says,  softly nudging Tara’s side with her elbow.   “Look.  The Babadook’s here.”

The smile that earns her prompts Ellie to continue on, shifting to get closer than Tara has already pulled her.  “Do you think anyone here dressed up like that little girl from  ‘Hereditary’?”

“I doubt it.  Seems like it'd be kinda impossible.”

“It wouldn't be for you,”  Ellie dismisses with ease.  “For other people,  though,  figuring it out would probably give them a-”

“Don't say it,”  Tara warns,  the lack of annoyance in her voice counteracting what she says in a way Ellie-Marie knows isn't the goal.  “Don't you dare.”

“-headache.”

The loud groan the pun earns is enough for Ellie to feel partially accomplished. Tonight has been an episode of grief that she simply can't turn off, rewinding the last several hours in her mind any time silence allows,  but Tara's laughter is a sweet break between scenes of bloodshed and fear.  There's not a thing in this world that Ellie wouldn't do if Tara needs it,  even if it means shelving back what she'll be forced to relive for the remainder of her life to make that smile come back to life for a few moments in time.

There's not a thing in this world that Ellie wouldn't do if Tara needs it.  Whatever is waiting for them at the theater will be no exception.

No matter how it ends.

IT'S WHEN SHE hits the sidewalk that the nerves begin to form.

Ellie-Marie can feel the tension drape over each of them like a blanket.  Logically it shouldn't be any worse than they're used to-  ten against two,  at most,  is a remarkably easy takedown.  She shouldn't be worrying as much as she is,  but she's not the only one.  Tara's still gripping her hand tight enough that Ellie's not too sure she's not accidentally glued herself there,  Abi,  Dad,  and Julie have been whispering amongst each other since the subway,  and while Rory strides confidently beside Sam at the front of the group,  Ellie doesn't miss how close the two of them are.  Even Buffy walks between Chad and Danny,  none of them speaking when Chad tugs her closer to him.

They know what's coming.  How could they not?  Excluding Danny,  each of them have lived this before.  There's a strong likelihood of them not making it out alive,  just like there's a strong likelihood of one of them not being who they say they are.

“Hey!”  Kirby calls from in front of the theater, one hand coming up like this is a run-of-the-mill thing.  Ellie would giggle if she could find it in her to do so,  settling instead for a wave with her free hand.  She wishes she could be kinder now,  more trusting than she's feeling with every step closer to the theater,  yet there's no way to revive her naïve bravado when she's once again approaching a game of Russian Roulette.

“Agent-”

“Dewey,  seriously.  It's Kirby.  You calling me ‘Agent’ is weirdly respectful when compared to your…”  Kirby pauses, chewing on her lip as though pondering.   “Compared to your Gale,  and you caught me being stupid enough to ignore it.”

Abi doesn't bother curbing her laugh at the bewildered look Dad takes at the statement,  the lightness enough for Ellie to crack a smile.  “She's not-”

“Anyway,”  with a loud redirect Kirby turns on her heel,  facing Sam with a resumed sternness.   “I talked to Bailey,  I've got everything set up.  Where are Mindy and Ethan?”

“They're five minutes behind us,”  Tara answers, voice tight.   “Randy's with them.”

“And Juno?  Has anyone seen him since the apartment?”

The question prompts Ellie to glance over her shoulder, a silent question directed Buffy's way.  Her sister is unnaturally evident in her unease now,  shifting her weight between feet.

“He said he'd be getting evidence,  whatever the hell that means,”  she answers.  “He and I got in a fight and- and he said he'd do his own investigating.”

“Alone?”  Kirby makes no effort to hide her confusion at the question, arms folding over her chest as though readying herself.  Buffy tenses at the question like it's a challenge,  jaw ticking to the side the way it always does before she gets fired up.

“Not like that,”  Ellie assures quickly,  trying to ignore the little what if tugging at her heartstrings.  “He wouldn't hurt anyone,  especially not Fifi.  He’s just always been big on investigating.”

Juno's not like that,  she tells herself.  She's known him since she was an infant.  He's not like that.

It'd kill Buffy.

Juno’s not like that.

Kirby nods once at the hopeful defense Ellie-Marie provides, not looking quite convinced but thankfully not carrying on.  “Alright then.  Let's get you all inside.”

In a unison eerily similar to toy soldiers their group resumes their walk towards the theater,  silence settling over them right before they enter.

Then Sam turns around.

“Not you.”

The order is directed to Danny,  who has left his place sandwiching Buffy to join Sam and Rory near the front.  It's a switch-up of what Ellie has become accustomed to over the last few days,  so used to seeing Danny at Sam's every beck and call that this feels forbidden.

“What?”

“Don’t trust anyone, remember?”   Sam repeats the golden rule with a clench around her throat,  a fear in her eyes that Ellie hasn't seen in months.  “We don't know you.  Not really.”

Danny steps closer.  As though operating on reflex Ellie does the same,  unintentionally pulling Tara right with her.  She doubts he's the one behind all of this-  he's sweet,  but he's no mastermind-  but even then he could be violent in an entirely different way.

“You know me,”  he protests,  voice quiet.  Not heated,  she notes.  Betrayed.

“You're not Woodsboro,”  Sam corrects.  It's a vital piece of their history that typically lies in the thread of everything each of them does,  pieces of the same bloodsoaked town no matter how far they get from it.  “I’m sorry.”

The words seem to click something for Danny and he's backing off without further insistence,  though that look of a wounded dog doesn't quite fade.  “It's okay,”  he assures,  almost forcing the words past what could only be concern.  Ellie wants it to be that, wants Sam to have someone besides who she already has.  She's going to make herself believe he's truly worried,  that this isn't an act.  If Sam can do it then she can,  too.

Sam nods when he tells her to be okay,  turns around to continue leading the way inside.  By all means Ellie wants to stay attached to Tara,  wants to keep Buffy in arm's length, wants to keep her family on child leashes well within her control,  but she's turning anyway.

“Els?”  Tara asks,  spinning away from the door to face Ellie.   “What are you-”

“Go ahead,”  she says,  forcing her voice to remain steady.  “I'll be right in, okay?”

“You don't have a key card.”

“I'll stay with her,”   Kirby says,  stepping aside from the door.  “The rest of you go in.  You sure this won't take long,  kiddo?”

“I'm sure,”  with that Ellie is stepping forward once more,  bracing herself for the inevitable pushback she's approaching.   She can't stop Abi or Jules,  not when they were already waiting by the door before it had been unlocked, but she can stop Dad.

“Dad-”

“No.”

“Daddy-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Daddy,  please lis-”

“You're not going in there alone.”

“I won't be alone-”

“You aren't going in there without me-”

“Dwight!”   Ellie snaps,  choosing to ignore the petty little stomp of her foot that pairs with it.  She's never called either of her parents by their names and it feels incredibly wrong to do so now,  though it's insanely effective for making Dad close his mouth in shock.  She wishes she could apologize,  wishes she could tell him that it's for his own good (which,  in a way,  makes it for her own good) but she can't waste her time on that right now.  This is more important.

“Daddy,”  she finally repeats,  tempering her voice down.  He's still looking at her in wide-eyed shock,  neither of them used to her snapping,  and Ellie-Marie has to use that to her advantage.  “Please.  I don't wanna lose you.  I don't- I don't wanna go through last year again.  Lulu was right:  these assholes are willing to do anything to get what they want,  and what they want isn't you this time.  It's me, Fifi and Sam.  If you're in there,  then…”

She can't finish the sentence.  She still sees it when she drifts off sometimes,  still remembers what it sounded like when her father collapsed in a puddle of blood.  His or hers or Abi's,  there's no knowing.  All she knows is that it cannot happen again,  and if he isn't around her now,  it won't.

Aunt Sidney once said that she was called an omen of death.  Ellie-Marie is beginning to understand how she felt.  

“Baby,”  Dad finally says,  an odd sort of preemptive grief clouding the eyes Ellie is so used to searching for comfort in.  “I’ll be fine.  What's it you always say,  huh?  I'm durable.”

The repetition of Ellie's own words make a watery smile bloom of dismay,  shaking her head against this plea he tries to disguise.  “No.  No, I can't do it again.  After Momma and Lulu,  I just… please.  You can go across the street, it'll be safer there.”

“I'm not going that far.”

“It won't be far,  I'll be right here-”

“Ellie-Marie,”   he interjects, settling his hands on her shoulders.  “Peanut,  I love you.  If I know I won't be able to get to you in less than a minute,  I'm not going there.  You're doing good on keeping me out here.”

Despite how badly she wants to fight the decision Ellie knows he's right,  one hand coming up to rub at her eyes before she's throwing her arms around his middle.  “I love you too.  You're gonna be safe,  right?”

“Safe as I can be,”  Dad answers the same way he always does, squeezing her to his chest as tight as he can before a fierce kiss is pressed to her head.  “I need you to be safe too,  okay?  I can't risk losing you.”

“I will be,”  she assures,  finally pulling away because if she doesn't now then she never will.  “I'll take care of Abi and Julie,  too.  We'll be okay,  I promise.”

It's a promise she doesn't know how to keep,  but it's the one Dad needs now.  As she steps away and turns back to march into the theater,  she repeats it to herself.

She'll take care of everyone.

They'll be okay.

She promises.