Guide My Steps - A Zak Bagans Story

Copious Love Affair

A/N: Well, hello there. I've been missing in action for quite some time, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I've been dealt a shitty hand of cards and I've been bouncing around location wise and it's rather annoying to say the least. Long story short, I'm going to try and get back into this book (yay!) and update regularly. I'm going to go back and do some editing as well - yes, I've noticed all the mistakes with the time variations, grammar and punctuation too, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy yet another round of Bagans and Emie!

Markus over and out. *walkie-talkie noises*

"Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime." Mineko Iwasaki

*

I was no religious woman, by any means necessary. Growing up in the situation that I had when I was so young, losing my parents, being flown overseas to a new country that I felt like I really had no purpose being in, meeting complete strangers and being welcomed into their lives so suddenly, so quickly. I couldn't help but feel like some sort of adopted animal. No home check required, no vaccinations, just a military officer knocking at my door and handing me two folded American flags, and a manila envelope with a one-way ticket to England, a passport and strict instructions for my "baby sitter" on transportation to the nearest airport outside of the military base I had called home for years.

I was so young, so naive. Nick's family took over the responsibility that was me. Apparently, my father and Nick's were close childhood friends before their family had uprooted from America and planted themselves in New England. It wasn't a terrible place, but it never felt like home.

What exactly was a home though? A location? A house? A person?

Was Bagans my home?

He was homely. Scratch that, I couldn't objectify him like that.

He was my ghost hunter, my demon in disguise, my warm embrace on a cold night when my head was plagued by awful nightmares, my reason to smile even when I feel like I couldn't, my clothing factory when I was too lazy to wash my own. Lord knows I was lazy. Or perhaps that was my half-assed excuse to snag a shirt or two of his. No one really knew the answer to that one. Except maybe me, but I'd never tell.

Bagans had nodded off after a while. I had kept him awake as long as I could, just talking. His typically elated tone soon drifted into a muffled whisper, followed by soft snores and deep breathing. I let him sleep. He needed it after this long, long day. I even let him hog the covers when he sleepily rolled to face the wall, leaving me to gaze blankly at the sharp outline of his vertebrae beneath the naturally tanned skin of his back.

Our discussion had revolved around my reintroduction to America, around the time that Nick's family had decided to return to the States upon the news of a standing position in his father's line of work. I had been much older then, but still living with the family. They had offered to allow me to stay in the home, alone, while they transitioned, paying all expenses of the house until I got on my feet and acquired a decent job, making decent money to keep up with the demand of the property - aka: grew up, got off of my ass and stopped hiding from the world in my room.

I had kindly declined, spouting on about my plans to get a small apartment in the US on my own and beginning to go out on my own.

Long story short, my so called "plans" hadn't lasted too long. I had my own place for a few months, then the bills had piled on. I didn't tell Mama Groff, and I certainly didn't want them trying to pick up and deal with my slack on rent and utilities. That was around that time that Nick had invited me to join him on his not-so-routine adventures filming weddings just about every romantic place a couple could think of. I was his so called "tech in training" and somehow, he had charmed his way into getting the brides and grooms to pay for my travel expenses along with his.