[ this is kinda borinh. i'm sorry ]

☆︎

RIGHT, I'LL BE THERE TOO SINCE I'VE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING EVER IN MY LIFE, I GUESS.

☆︎ FEBRUARY 3RD, 2000 ☆︎

It was fairly silent in the wardrobe-department-turned-crime scene. In fact, one of the only sounds you could hear was Indiana chewing on a blueberry donut, watching as Sarah Darling's body was finally zipped up and stored in a body bag now that the crime scene photos were finished being taken.

After Mark left, Indiana fell right back asleep, not too concerned with the newest murder. But once she was actually up for the day, she and Jackson decided to take a page out of Dewey, Virginia, and Gale's book to try their hand at investigating. Indy wasn't going to sit on the sidelines and wait around for the third-act surprise this time. But before going to the Stab set, they did stop for donuts on the way — partially to wave in front of all the police officers' faces as a joke and partially because they wanted breakfast.

And having been sharing a wall with Indiana at the house, Jackson just kept glancing between her and Mark who barely acknowledged each other, making him even more confused about their situation.

Then there was Wallace, who also kept looking between them, an annoyed glare on his face. Because Indiana didn't even bother to try and cover up the fact she'd been fucking Mark mere hours ago. Though Mark did try to hide all signs of it after changing clothes, you could still see a bruise in the outline of Indiana's lips on his neck. In all his years of working with Mark Kincaid, he'd never done something so unprofessional before.

Including letting his hookup-slash-suspect into the room where Sarah Darling was murdered.

"You're dropping donut crumbs all over the crime scene, Miss Winger," Wallace finally said in a flat tone.

"What? Am I just supposed to starve?" Indiana asked, narrowing her eyes at Detective Wallace.

"Ideally," he mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe Sarah ran in here to hide," Jackson said, ignoring Indy and the detective glaring at each other. "There's like twenty Ghostface costumes in here. She wouldn't have seen him coming."

"Probably herded her in here like a little lamb to be slaughtered. Smart move on his part," Indy chimed in. And Wallace and Mark just looked at her in exasperation over saying something so twisted. "Okay, I heard it that time. That did make me sound a little serial killer-y."

Then one of the officers that was bagging and tagging evidence walked over, handing Wallace a printed-off photo that was found on the body, now sealed in a bag to keep them from contaminating it — ya know, with donut crumbs and such.

"Same deal? Found with the body?" Wallace asked, looking at his partner.

And now that they were done seeing everything in the room, the two detectives began to leave. So, Indy and Jackson followed after them, wondering if this was how Sophia felt when constantly staying with Dewey and Virginia back in Windsor.

"Yeah, Maureen Prescott again," Mark confirmed. Indiana scurried closer and looked at the picture over his shoulder, thinking that Sidney looked a lot more like her father than her deceased mother.

"This is great. Ten more murders, and we can publish a calendar," Wallace joked.

Though Indiana couldn't really stand the man, she still laughed at the joke. Jackson rolled his eyes playfully and pulled her back a little.

"The old 'killer playing with the cops' routine. Very Hannibal Lecter. Very Seven," Mark noted.

"Doesn't the killer come after the cops in those movies?" he asked.

"Usually one cop makes it," Indiana told them, ever an expert on horror movies.

Wallace looked back at her over his shoulder, waiting for a more detailed answer. "And?"

"One cop doesn't," Jackson said, shrugging.

"Usually," Mark cut in, trying to make his partner feel a bit more comfortable.

"But also, sometimes both die," Indiana added, being the opposite of helpful. "Like at Windsor — both detectives ate it, even the hot gay one. That felt like it was breaking the rules a little bit."

"But this isn't a movie with rules," Wallace said, rolling his eyes. If he was already annoyed with Indiana and Mark comparing the current situation to movies, he'd not survive a conversation with Randy. "These are three real people that are dead."

"And let me guess," she said, crossing her arms, "I'm still your suspect number one?"

"Until I have reason to believe otherwise—"

"Just stop it, you two," Mark sighed, moving to get in between them and keep them separate. "Wallace, you know that Indiana wasn't the one to kill Sarah Darling last night."

"Yeah," Indiana said, smirking at him over Mark's shoulder. "Because I was too busy getting fu—"

"Detective Kincaid!" Gale said, appearing out of nowhere and cutting Indy off.

"Oh, fuck me," Indiana muttered, sharing a look with Jackson.

Gale didn't even acknowledge them as she rushed up to Mark, shooting off question after question. "What do we know? Same killer?"

"Hey, hey," Wallace said, not wanting her there either. "Terminal Entertainment, this is a crime scene, okay?" Indy and Jackson couldn't help but snicker at his nickname for her.

"Wallace, Miss Weathers is working with me now," Mark then told them, letting her stay by their side as they stopped in the entrance of the building. There was a huge, green Ghostface mask hanging behind the security desk to greet everyone that came in.

"Thank you, Detective," Gale said pointedly.

"You're welcome."

"Well, in that case, I'm gonna go dust for fingerprints with Jane Pauley," Wallace said, making Gale roll her eyes.

"Damn, Wallace, maybe you aren't so bad after all," Indiana told him, grinning. "Maybe if you don't die in the next few days, we can build a strong friendship."

"Hilarious," he sneered.

"Uh, photos, Wallace, please?" Mark asked before his partner could leave. And once he had them, Wallace was gone, not wanting to stick around so many people he didn't like at the moment. "New picture, same person. Anything turn up on your research yet?"

"Nothing that will help with these," Gale said, looking over the old photo of Maureen.

Then Dewey made his way over to them, Virginia at his side. "What about an increased police presence around Jennifer?"

"She's the next one to get killed in the script," Virginia added.

"She has a bodyguard," Mark pointed out. "And besides, the producers told us that there were three different versions of the script. Something about trying to keep the ending off the internet. You should know that. You're the technical advisor, right?"

Dewey just shrugged, feeling a little sheepish for not knowing that.

"Three versions. Three different characters die next, and we don't know which one the killer read," Jackson said, sighing heavily.

"Yeah, but Roman said the one they all got two days ago is the final one, so I'd bet on it being the one that the killer is using," Indiana told them. "And even so, Gale's character dies in the second act of every version. In the other two, it was Jackson's character, but his actor dropped after Cotton was killed, so he's not here to be murdered."

"But the real Jackson is here," Virginia noted, looking at the younger boy with worried eyes.

At that, Dewey shook his head. "Look, we don't know who is doing this yet, but they'd have to be clueless to target Jax."

"Exactly," Jackson said, grinning, believing he was safe.

"Clueless how?" Mark questioned, studying both men.

Jackson threw an arm around Indiana's shoulder. "If a Ghostface comes for me, Indy's gonna bathe in their blood."

"I'll stab anyone that gets within five feet of him," Indiana confirmed, hugging him around the waist. And she looked pointedly at Mark, not entirely sure he wasn't the killer himself.

"Well, no, you'd help apprehend the killer so that they can be arrested and go through—"

"Oh, my god," Indy groaned, shaking her head as she cut Mark off. "You're so not hot anymore. This cop thing is a real turn-off."

"Didn't sound like that last night," Jackson muttered loud enough for all of them to hear.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gale asked, the only one unaware of Indiana and Mark's connection prior to the murders.

"I'm sorry, why are you still standing here?" Indiana asked, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you rather be running around this big city to look for poor, traumatized, victims to exploit for more money? You're really good at that."

"I told you I'm working with Detective Kincaid—"

"Yeah, and you also told him you didn't have any information that could help right now," she cut her off. "And after a few more bodies drop, Detective Kincaid is gonna realize you're just as useless as the rest of us know you are. The only thing you're good for is getting punched in the face."

Gale narrowed her eyes at the younger girl who she hadn't properly seen since Nancy and Mickey died in that auditorium. "Nice to know you've not changed a bit, Indiana. And here I thought we could have a more civil relationship. After all, we were in that auditorium together."

"Yeah, and when you left it, you pulled the exact same bullshit you did with your first book," Indiana, taking another step toward Gale. She had five inches on her and was towering over the reporter. "Made me wish Nancy would've offed you before I gutted her."

"Indy," Dewey said quickly, knowing that was taking it too far, especially with a cop next to them.

But she just waved him off and continued to glare at Gale whose confidence was wavering. "What was that you said about Cici? Oh, I remember," Indiana said with a harsh laugh. "The dumb blonde — the only one stupid enough to be home alone and not smart enough to save herself when the killer called. Cici Cooper died pathetically and violently — a fate destined for every air-headed sorority girl in the horror genre. No one should've been surprised by her death."

Gale took in a deep breath. "Indiana, it was just a book—"

"No, it wasn't just a book!" she snapped. "She was my best friend. And just like fucking Tatum, you took her story, you ruined someone you never even met with lies, and published it for a check before her family could even bury her. So, excuse me for not being thrilled at the sight of you on this set."

"Someone was going to tell the story," Gale said, shaking her head. "Might as well of been me. And it wasn't like I killed her. In case you forgot, it was your boyf—"

Indiana's fist went flying, but it never hit Gale's face, who instantly crouched over and covered her nose, preparing for the blow. Mark and Jackson had been watching the girl carefully and both moved to stop her before she could attack Gale. Jackson had grabbed her fist while Mark wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back.

"Nope, no," Mark said, shaking his head, not struggling at all to keep her restrained. The last thing the situation needed was Indiana charged with assault. "Not happening."

It took a moment for them to release her, and Indiana let out a huff once her feet were on the ground. Gale eyed her warily, taking a step back.

"I'm the only person in this room that's stopped something like this. All you're good for, Gale, is throwing up and getting held hostage and being shot by people that aren't even aiming for you," Indy said, glaring at her. "So, when the killer comes after you, don't expect me to take the time to try and save your life. Keep pissing me off, and I might cheer them on."

☆︎

Isaiah was anxiously picking at his fingernails as he watched people walk by on the movie set. He was sitting on the steps of the fake Winger house and waiting for Luca to come back with some lunch.

"Boo!"

The boy actually flinched when someone came up behind him and grabbed his shoulders. While holding his hand to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath it, he turned and spotted Sophia, who was the one to creep up on him. And she was laughing at how easily he was startled.

"Calm down, Zay," she said, dropping next to him on the stairs. "I'm pretty sure Ghostface doesn't say 'boo' before going in for the kill."

"That's not funny," he huffed, hunching over a bit. "None of this is funny."

"I know it's not funny," she told him. "But, I mean, I'd rather laugh about it than spend all day, every day being scared."

"Well, I am scared," Isaiah admitted quietly. "But that's nothing new, I guess. I was scared of everything growing up, I was so scared of joining the band that you had to drag me to the first meeting, I was scared to tour the country, and I'm terrified right now, Soph."

Sophia and Isaiah had been friends since they were six, and that was because the shy boy couldn't stand up for himself on the playground one day. It was Sophia that got him to join the marching band and then The Woodsboro Killers. She was the first person he told after kissing Luca. They were best friends just like Indiana and Jackson.

"I know this is a fucked, scary situation," Sophia said, leaning against his side. "And you're a lot more involved than the last two times. We're all gonna make it through this, though. Randy may not be here to go over the movie rules, but I know enough myself. We travel in pairs and groups, never go to a party or pick up a phone, and don't trust the love interest."

Isaiah raised his eyebrow at that last one. "Was that a dig at Detective Kincaid?"

"Absolutely," she said, grinning. "I've not talked to Indy about it, but I know she thinks Mark is involved even if she's still into him. And it makes sense, given her track record, you know?"

"I wish it didn't make sense," he muttered. "I mean, I wish none of you had gone through any of it — Billy almost killing you, Mickey and Indy, Randy and Dewey almost dying. I miss when the most stressful thing in our lives were how much we were gonna get paid for gigs at birthday parties and not studying enough for a history test."

"Yeah, but I didn't get to sign tits at the gigs back home," Sophia joked. Then she bumped against his shoulder. "And I see the smile on your face when someone recognizes you in public and tells you that you're their favorite member. So, I think you getting past your fear and joining the band was worth it."

He nodded with a small smile. "You know, I don't think I ever thanked you for forcing me to join the band."

"I don't recall but I will accept your undying gratitude now."

"Well, thank you," he said, chuckling. "I think if you hadn't, I'd still be living with my mom and be miserable while the only friend I've ever had was off becoming a superstar without me. You'd have forgotten all about me."

"I mean, I'd at least have hooked you up with some free tickets to a show so that all the assholes we graduated with could be jealous," she told him.

"Yeah, if we're being honest, I probably wouldn't have gone to the concert," he admitted with a smile. Before the band, Isaiah never went anywhere or did anything exciting, including attending things like parties and concerts no matter who would be in attendance.

"Hey, Third Wheel. Get off my man!" Luca called, making his way over to them and interrupting their conversation. He couldn't hear them but spotted Sophia leaning up against him.

"Oh, god, you caught us," Sophia said, throwing her arms around Isaiah and smushing their faces together. "I guess it's time I was honest with you all — I'm actually straight and in love with your boyfriend."

Then after a second, she added, "Also, fuck you for the third-wheel comment."

"I'll fight you to the death over him," Luca said, puffing his chest up. But then he laughed a minute later and joined them on the steps. He had two sandwiches and some sodas in the pockets of his shorts. "Didn't know you were joining or I'd have grabbed something for you, Soph. If you want turkey, they're almost out at the lunch table."

"God, that Tyson and Tommy always get them before me," she muttered while getting up. Sophia looked pointedly at Isaiah. "If there's not one, I'm gonna tackle your cousin and steal his."

"I would very much like to see that," he said, grinning. Then as Sophia scurried off to get some lunch, Isaiah leaned in to kiss Luca before grabbing his own sandwich. "Thanks, babe."

"I got you the last pastrami. Had to bark at a lighting guy who wanted it."

"Um... I appreciate that, but maybe don't make a habit of barking at people, Lu."

☆︎

Indiana was perched in a cast chair that had Angelina's name embroidered on the back, not caring about where the actress was as she talked with Roman. About an hour after Sarah's body was carted away from the wardrobe department, the studio officially put the movie on hold, stopping Jennifer mid-scene as Milton made the announcement.

Now, Roman was pouting about it, and Indiana was listening to him complain.

"This is so fucking stupid. We can still keep filming the scenes without Candy in it," he grumbled. "Halting production is the last thing I need. Before you know it, the whole project is gonna get scrapped."

"I mean, is that the worst thing in the world?" Indy asked him, raising an eyebrow. "You know it's gonna be a shit movie either way."

"Yeah, but it's still my movie. God, I was talking with the producers and execs for hours this morning trying to keep the ball rolling," he told her. Then he huffed and put his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.

"Roman," she said, looking at him pointedly. "Why do you keep pushing so hard for the movie to be made?"

The older man looked up at her and tilted his head. "Why did you agree to write the music for Stab 2? Why did you agree to come back for this one?" he countered, genuinely wanting her answer knowing how much she hated the franchise.

"I guess... the story was gonna get told either way," she mumbled, shrugging a little. "At least this way, I have a little bit more control over how my story gets told. How his gets told. They were gonna play a song over the death scene. Might as well been one written by me."

"And that's what I want too — control of the narrative," Roman said, trying to get her to see why it was important to him. "And you're the inspiration for that, Indiana. You're the muse."

"Muse, huh? Better title than final girl, I guess," she said, laughing a little. "Look, I know it sucks right now, but when this is all over and twenty years have passed, you're gonna be like the next Spielberg or Cameron. And you can always call up TWK to make a rocking song for your soundtracks."

"I'll hold you to that," he said, smiling for the first time all day.

Then the two were joined by Dewey and Jennifer, who was still in her Gale costume on the off chance Milton changed his mind and let them finish the scene that was set up.

And all Dewey did was ask Roman how he was holding up with the news about production stopping. Whatever progress Indiana made in calming him down was lost as he started complaining again. Indy was very anti-smoking, but she could see the appeal as Jennifer rolled her eyes and lit up a cigarette while sitting in one of the nearby chairs.

"All I ever wanted to do was make a real classic love story, and the studio said they'd let me. I just had to do a scary movie for them first," he ranted. "And now we're shut down, and I am fucked!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "God, it's not the end of the world, Roman."

"That is so easy for you to say. You can always go back to - to MustSee TV," he snapped.

"It's hard for directors who don't have the big connections to achieve their dreams, Jen," Indiana reminded her. "It's a little easier to build up your resume as an actor. But all in all, it's a rough industry, you know."

"Exactly!" Roman whined, leaning his head on Indiana's shoulder. She smiled and ran her hands through his hair. "You know, I have no movie, I'm about to turn thirty, and it looks like I'm now the next target."

"What?" Both Indiana and Jennifer spoke at the same time.

"You?" Dewey asked. "Why you?"

Then Roman held up his award from the VMAs, and they noticed the head of the Moonman was knocked off.

"Do you think this wasn't a message?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Indiana pouted and reached for the award to look over the damage. If the head was still in his office where it was broken, maybe it could be glued back on.

"I'd never let them kill you," Indiana informed him matter-of-factly. "Anyone that comes after my director is getting turned into a knife block."

"Yes, it's comforting to know I have the great Ghostface slayer on my side," he said, a smirk on his face that she didn't see since he was still leaning on her shoulder.

"That's a cool nickname," she mumbled, smiling a little. "What if we change the band name to Indy and the Slayers?"

"Actually, I think it's a little less obvious than The Woodsboro Killers," Dewey chimed in.

"But the time to rebrand has passed," Roman told her. "You've won awards and gone on tour now. Should've renamed yourselves before the success."

"Fair point."

"Roman Bridger?" It was Detective Wallace calling for the director, and Indy rolled her eyes, wishing she could've gone a few more hours without seeing him again. And of course, Mark was walking right by his side.

And Roman didn't seem happy to see him either as he asked, "What?" in a snappy tone.

"Mr. Bridger, you didn't tell us you spoke with Sarah Darling before she was murdered," Mark told him.

Slowly, Roman lifted his head off Indiana's shoulder, and she stopped running her hands through his hair.

"Uh, spoke with her, uh, when?" he asked, clearly confused.

"The guard said she was here for a meeting with you," Mark said, looking pointedly at him.

Indiana studied Roman's confused face, not sure if she was buying it or not. That was the thing — it didn't matter how much she liked a new person once meeting them. After Woodsboro and Windsor, she'd never fully trust someone again.

"What meeting? I don't—"

"We talked with her roommate too," Wallace cut him off. "Says you called Sarah, told her to come down to the studio. Roommate answered the phone. Says it was you."

"Wait a minute. No, no," Roman protested. "I - I never called her. I never told her to go anywhere."

"Roommate says she knows your voice, Mr. Bridger," Mark claimed.

"Well, she wasn't speaking with me! God! Look, I did not call Sarah Darling," Roman insisted.

"Sarah Darling said you did," Mark said in a harsher tone. Okay, maybe he'd seen Indy and Roman being hugged up next to each other and hated the sight.

"Someone's trying to ruin my movie. Someone wants to kill my movie!" Roman argued, getting more upset.

"I mean, it's not the movie that's being murdered," Indiana said, cringing a little bit.

"All right, we'll talk about your movie down at the station," Wallace told Roman. "This is the scene where you come with us."

With a huff, Roman got up to go with the detectives. "Dewey, Jennifer — Wait a minute!" he snapped when Wallace tried to drag him off. Then Roman looked at the others. "Indiana, she wasn't talking with me on the phone."

The thing was... Indiana didn't believe him. Just like she didn't believe Mark or anyone else new in her life anymore. Only time would reveal who she could trust.

Wallace again pushed Roman to get him to move. "I'm coming!" he griped.

As Wallace led Roman from the set, Mark pulled out his phone. "I'll call him in." But a second later, he saw that he couldn't. "Battery. Mr. Riley, do you have a cell phone I can borrow?"

"Yeah," he mumbled while handing the device to him.

"Thank you," he said before going off to make the call to the station.

"God, Roman," Jennifer sighed, looking in the direction they took him. "Remind me not to sleep with him again."

Indiana raised an eyebrow. "You fucked the director?"

Jennifer just looked right back at her. "You fucked that cop."

"Fair," she mumbled, sinking lower in her chair.

"So, I'm thinking tonight, we all get together and stay safe at my house," Jennifer then told her. "You know — safety in numbers and whatnot. Dewey, I'd just die if you didn't show up to keep us all safe."

Dewey awkwardly smiled and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'll ask Virginia if she wants to come."

"Is a party—" Indiana cut herself off and shook her head. Only an absolute idiot would go to a gathering like that while there was a killer on the loose. "I mean, I'll probably pass. The rest of the gang will too."

"Well, Tom is going, so Isaiah is going to watch him, and Luca said he's coming with Isaiah," she informed her. "But Jackson and Sophia already turned me down.

Indiana sighed and rubbed her forehead, knowing she couldn't leave them alone with just Dewey and Stone to protect them. "Right, I'll be there too since I've not learned anything ever in my life, I guess."

☆︎

Indiana knew she shouldn't have called. It was going against all the instructions she gave everyone else, but she didn't care as she shut herself inside her room at the house.

"Hey, Sid."

"Hi, Indy," the girl said in a soft tone. "I, uh, I figured you'd call soon."

"You're okay, right?" Indiana asked, relieved just to hear her voice. "You and Randy are staying in? Locking the doors? You're safe?"

Sidney let out a sad laugh. "Aren't I supposed to be the one asking you if you're okay?"

"Nah, you know me — I'm always okay," she joked, laying back on the pillows. "But hey, at least the Stab franchise is over and done with."

"That's one good thing to come of this," Sid mumbled. Then she sighed. "Be honest with me. How bad is it?"

"It's not bad," she told her. "I mean, not so bad that you should be worrying about any of us. And we don't even have proof that it's a Ghostface again, so don't listen to the news or anything."

It was a lie, of course. With the pictures of Maureen being left behind, it was certainly connected to Sidney, Woodsboro, and Ghostface. But Sid would come running if she knew those details, so Indy kept her lips sealed on that front.

"But still," Sidney said. "I don't want you guys to go through this alone."

"And I don't want you going through this at all," she told her. "Stay where you are. You're safe there."

"I don't think I'll ever be safe no matter where I am," she mumbled. "But I do feel safer when I'm with you."

"I know the feeling," Indiana agreed, tracing her fingertips over the scar from Billy on her abdomen. "But I need you to stay away, Sid, for my own sanity. The only reason I even called was just to make sure you were okay. It's not like I can physically see you every day like I used to."

"Well, I promise I'm in perfect condition... well, as perfect as can be given the traumatized mess I am," she said. Then she paused for a second. "But Indy, you know that I'll be there if you need me. No matter what's happening. It's always gonna be you and me."

Indiana grinned brightly, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, you and me, bitch."

"Make sure to remind that Mark guy he's second best if you see him again any time soon." Indiana groaned and rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow. Sidney heard her annoyance and couldn't help but press her for more information. "What is it?"

"The Mark guy I've been seeing is the lead detective on Cotton's murder case. I didn't know until I walked into my interrogation."

"Oh, my god!" Sidney gasped, sitting up with excitement. "Tell me everything."

And Indiana did, not leaving out any details about him chasing her and keeping her from falling, the jealous looks he'd shoot at Roman, and the relapse from the night before. Yeah, maybe it felt like they were all waiting for some big disaster to hit, but until then, the two girls were content to giggle and complain over the phone like they were in high school again, comparing Mark and Randy and swapping advice and stories.

Indiana knew it was a sort of calm before the storm but she didn't let herself worry about it. She could never worry when talking to Sidney, and the girl that was so far away felt the same. And once this was all over and behind them, and they were safe again, Indiana and Sidney would be content to have a week-long sleepover at her cabin with a big 'NO BOYS ALLOWED' sign taped on the door.