''What?''
''So he giving you any shit, then?''
She chuckled hoarsely. ''You could say that.''
Patricia and her superior (Michael) looked about as different as two people could. She was petit and pale looking. Her junk food diet couldn’t make any headway on the former issue, while the Nevada sun had still been unsuccessful on the latter. She was in her late twenties, but looked older than that. Her brown hair was in the tightest bun you might ever see, and it had a way of making her look like a librarian. The man behind the desk was blonde and pudgy, and when he shaved his stubble he looked significantly younger than his age of thirty five. He looked like an overgrown boy who might just pitch a fit if he didn’t get his ice cream sandwich.
''What’s your take?'' he asked, and promptly began chewing on his pen.
She was still looking at his collection of pictures on the wall. By the looks of it, he impregnated his wife several times, and liked to fish.
''The concussions he sustained were serious, no doubt. But he could have very easily wrestled again. I think his…incident with the nurse, that might have been some way to sabotage his career.''
''And when you say incident, you mean when he bit her in the fucking eye?''
Michael placed his hands together, and leaned forward in the chair
''Yes,'' she replied simply. ''He keeps asking for his last meal, as if he is on death row.''
''What does he want? A nice T-bone?'' Michael asked, snickering slightly.
Patricia cleared her throat, and referenced the report in front of her. ''A bowl of cheerios, with tequila instead of milk,'' she said.
Michael’s snicker gained momentum and became full blown laughter. In that moment she hated him for how much pleasure he got out of this job sometimes.
''Jesus Christ,'' he finally offered.
''He has harassed several of our employees, two of the janitors won’t even go to his wing, and he is prone to violent outbursts. We have him sedated now, and are regulating him with a series of mood controlling cocktails, and I have every reason to believe this was his goal in acting out in the first place. But procedures are procedures.''
Michael considered this while chewing on a pen cap.
''Any ideas?''
''Well,'' Patricia started, ''I may have a solution.''
''All ears.''
She took a few moments to glance at her report again. There was one bit of her interview with the subject that needed to be referenced.
''If we’re able to get the girl to visit, he says he’ll behave. He swears to it.''
Michael leaned back in his chair, a faint look of amusement lingering on his lips. ''You believe him?''
''It wouldn’t hurt to try. You should see his face light up when he talks about her. He says…'' the female doctor started reading, ''…'We're best friends, soulmates. She just hasn’t figured it out yet.' He goes on to say she's been ill recently and for the sake of his sanity, he needs to 'know she's still kickin''.''
''Must be a special girl,'' her boss replied with an eye roll. ''Give her a call.''
Even when my memory is nearly finished slipping away from me, I don't think I'll ever forget what it feels like to have my skull nearly caved in. It's different than a cut or a bruise - it's a pressure that makes it feel like my brain's about to leak out my ears, and it takes a few minutes before it's replaced with the pain of the injury itself - the cuts and the bruises that whatever just struck me will have left.
All I know is that, when I woke up for the second time that night, I imagined what Jared might be doing. Probably buying paper plates at Costco so he didn't have to wash dishes this week. Maybe he was walking to the gym, taking an afternoon nap. His day-to-day is something I crave. I should have expected all of what was happening, really, because nobody's capable of leaving me the fuck alone. I'll always be an easy target, the quickest way to Alexandra Pierce.
It was a strange dream to be having. A woman's voice brought Amy Campbell back to life, cooing something to coax her from sleep. Much to the redhead's chagrin, her blinding headache and jumble of words the velvet-voiced woman spoke confirmed that she'd thought wrong; She'd been unconscious, not sleeping peacefully. In a fleeting, foggy moment, she recalled that she had been sleeping peacefully before a moment of panic and then the strike-induced catnap she was just coming out of. Before she even tried to identify the voice in the room, instinct forced her to tighten her upper abdomen in an effort to quell rising vomit. The nausea and the sensation of wetness against her pillow - too far up and too sticky-thick to be drool - told Amy that she had a head wound and concussion from it.
Whoever else was there knew she was awake, but she wouldn't open her eyes for a moment. There was no dream, no pleasant thought to be had. Reality was worse than the dull ache in her skull. That woman's perfume, however light, stung her nostrils. It was familiar and it bore a hole through her gut.
''Nng...'' She croaked, eyes closed. ''Anybody but you.''
''Now come on.'' It was patient and it was patronizing. ''Is that any way to greet a guest?''
''Guests are invited. Why am I--who the fuck attacks someone in bed?'' She sat up – or tried to, finding her left wrist bound to one of the thin metal rods of the bed frame. Instinct made Campbell jerk her arm, pulling on the chain, but it didn't give. Panic she couldn't help forced her eyes open, searching the dimly lit bedroom for the brunette she knew she'd find.
Say what you will about Kathryn Shaw, but even at 3:45 in the morning, the Sex Kitten was immaculately dressed in an asymmetrical turquoise dress, left leg curled over right, her strappy sandal dangling from her toe. The eyeglasses she wore were warm, thin ovals, and almost certainly for show. The only light in the room came from the screen of Campbell's MacBook, the screen reflected in the lenses.
''I seem to remember that the last time we were this close, it was in a parking lot at a liquor store,'' she said, glancing back to the bed. ''And you hit me. I figured we should talk, so I brought some friends over. Hope you don't mind.''
As if on cue, two men stepped closer to the bed. One man was tall, one short but muscular, and both were smirking. She didn't pause to question how Shaw paid them or she might not have held that urge to vomit quite so well. When Kathryn laid mockingly reassuring hand on her thigh, Amy lashed out as best she could; She kicked and caught the steroid-addled man in the stomach. He growled, swore and darted forward, striking Campbell's cheekbone. He followed through by clutching her just under the jawbone, snarling and staring into mismatched eyes. The redhead strained to headbutt him, but came up short. All-in-all, it was an amusing show that strength won by a landslide. Shaw hadn't flinched.
After much thrashing about, the head injury and the last punch slowed Amy's protest. A third man had come out of the shadows, leaning down to bar a heavy arm over her legs. Campbell was too short to have her legs bound to the foot of the bed, so the improv and manpower were necessary.
Another punch put her back to sleep for a moment after she'd bit her first assailant's hand, and she came to only to note the absence of the tall man. He was rifling through her dresser drawers. Kathryn, unfortunately, was still there--chuckling at her, even. ''Shouldn't you be willing Alex back to the dark side or some--let go of me!--shit?''
Kathryn chuckled – it was a rich, dark sound, like molasses splashing. ''Look at you,'' she purred, turning from the laptop to fold her arms artfully lazily in her lap. ''So sure you've got everything figured out. I spent a year trying to keep you from destroying Lexi, and then you went and did it anyway. I've moved on.''
''To what?'' Amy's agitation only grew when she noticed the slight slur to her words. She vaguely remembered a few drinks before bed, and being knocked unconscious at least twice in the past... however long it had been... couldn't have helped. ''You after Malcolm now?'' There was no link or reference to the man being her father. ''Or am I magically interesting? I'm over her, yet you're in Long Beach.''
''Oh, no, this? This is personal.'' There was something nasty in that brilliant little smile of hers. ''This is about me and you and what you did to Lane. Do you know how hard I worked to keep us on the top of the federation? But you couldn't just be satisfied turning Desade into a weeping little child, you had to give Lane a concussion, too. This is about me getting to you, because sooner or later, you would have come after me or batted your eyes at Lexi until she did it.''
Shaw slipped up to her feet, smiling down at Amy like a teacher might at a disobedient student. ''Being somewhat better at this than you, I got here first. You don't have any more protection. Daddy can't save you now.''
''I don't know what the fuck you're on about with that 'Daddy' shit,'' She lied. ''And Lane can't handle me fighting back. He got hurt again. Accidents happen and all. Whoops.''
''And none of it explains why you're going through my things he--oh, for fuck's sake!'' Amy had moved her free hand to feel for whatever part of her head was bleeding onto the pillow her fighting had jarred to the other side of the bed, but the short man was quick to grab her wrist, looking to Shaw for further instructions.
''Oh, come on. I had to see how the other half lives. I have to say, I love your place, but... you are in some serious need of an interior decorator.'' She ran her forefinger down a bedsheet draped over the window, looking back. ''I'm sure Jared can help out there – guys like him have a flair for fashion, don't they?''
Amy bucked again – the physical assault wasn't quite as aggravating as the intrusion to her personal space, and Kathryn spun, folding her arms. ''Think of this as a social call, a reminder that nothing that happens in the ring will ever keep you safe. You're never going to be rid of me, never going to be free. If I was feeling less charitable, I'd let the boys here exact their payment from you. Corey there was quite interested in that idea. Suggested it himself, actually.''
''If it meant you left my sight, I might prefer it.'' Campbell sneered. ''I don't need your charity, and I certainly don't need Alex to make your life hell for fucking around like this, you used-up fucking whore. What're you gonna do past breaking into my place? Rob me? Beat me up more? Get fucked. I've got nothing left for you to play with.''
Shaw plucked Amy's BlackBerry from the nightstand, tapping the phone to life. ''You are, admittedly, kind of boring without Lexi to glare at me.'' She didn't search through the contact list – she didn't need to. ''But don't ever think I can't find something to take away from you. Don't think that for a second.''
She held off on pressing the ''call'' button, however, stepping behind one of the goons. Her nails tickled his hip. ''Do it,'' she purred. ''Do it just like we said.''
The man produced a small hypodermic needle, and the other two pinned her arm down as the one with the needle brushed a cotton ball across the bicep.
''What the fuck are you—'' Campbell began, but Shaw put a finger to her lips.
''Now, now...'' the Sex Kitten trilled. ''Jack used to be a nurse, but you wouldn't want to disturb him too much. This is delicate work, and I'd hate for you to become another tragic wrestling statistic.''
''This is going to pinch a little,'' the man – Jack – said, jabbing the needle into her arm.
The bound redhead couldn't quite stifle her cry, even as the liquid burned its way into her veins. Kathryn handed him a small Scooby-Doo bandage, which he affixed to the wound, then she stood him up and wrapped herself around him in a gaudy, lip-smacking kiss, like she was trying to devour his face.
Amy couldn't decide which was worse.
''He's great, isn't he?'' Kathi asked, peeling herself away. ''Don't think I have to tell you not to scream for help, because I'd hate to see what the cops might find if they search your place.'' She finally tapped the green call button, setting the phone next to Amy's head, as close as she dared get. ''Say hi to Lexi for me.''
She tried to shout as they left, the tall man finally cuffing her free arm to the same part of the bedframe that had held her in place the whole time. Kathryn flicked the light on, nearly blinding her on the way out, and Shaw didn't even have to turn around to relish Amy's further discomfort, chuckling as she went. The redhead's yelling came out dry, confused... not really yelling at all. In fact, the sudden rush of sensation into her head forced Amy to question if she'd made any sound at all.
Her eyes shut again a few panicked minutes later.
I can safely say those few hours were some of the worst of my life. The drug confused me. Actually, that's a lie - the reason confused me. The drug was something I couldn't remember feeling before - I stayed awake once I came back to life, but I wasn't fully aware for a long time. I don't know how much time actually passed while I was unconscious, but the hours awake were a mess. I was sure I was dying, or maybe already dead, and every shadow outside the window brought on what would have otherwise been a panic attack. Mentally, I was there - I was freaking the fuck out - but physically... I've never felt that before. It was a warm blanket or a hot bath. It was somehow secure. It was comfortable, and that was the confusing part -- why would she want me to feel okay? Was it supposed to do something that just hadn't kicked in yet, or was I in some trance before spasms and a coma would take over?
They left coke on my bed, on my nightstand, both stashes being just out of reach, and just enough to keep me from shouting for a neighbor. I'd take my habits to my death if I had to, and in that moment, I was strangely okay with the idea of it. I just prayed I wouldn't be left to rot and die. I couldn't see my Blackberry, but the light had gone out and the phone had died completely an hour later - I could see the annoying red light blink about the low battery above all else. If she'd really called Alexandra, Al had probably dismissed it as an accidental drunk-dial on my part and ignored it. By the time help arrived, I'd resigned myself to the idea that I'd be found days later by a neighbor or a concerned SCCW staffer whose calls I didn't answer, overdosed and dead, handcuffed to my bed. Blogs would speculate it was some weird, drugged-out sex act gone wrong, and within a few months I'd be just another dead wrestler whose parents couldn't even say she was making an effort to clean up. Maybe that's what Kathryn was taking from me.
Reaper had found me first, laying there in a haze. I hoped it was going to be a moment that one of those Sunday afternoon 'Pet Heroes' shows on Animal Planet would reinact with poor actors and suspenseful music. He meowed, rubbed against me and laid down near one of my shoulders. After a nap, he gave the gash on my head a lovely cleaning with that sandpaper cat tongue. I barely felt a thing. He even pranced off to the door to greet my next 'guest'. I like to believe my cat is intelligent, aware and just somehow knew I'd survive the day. It's a lot easier to assume that than him just not giving a damn about anything but my ability to fill his food dish.
Obviously I didn't die. I'm writing about this, after all... but it was one of those things I don't think my memory will take from me. Maybe my mind will alter or blur the facts, but there was a resounding, rather difficult to stomach feeling at the end: The person who found me is the only one I truly feel safe near in that kind of scenario.
I was angry--I wanted to be with Jared, where things were sane, not in California living this nightmare of mine--but everything would be okay.
''—Everything will be okay.''
It took a moment for Amy Campbell to realize that wasn't, in fact, her voice she heard, but another soft-voiced woman. The words were laced with worry, but she never even felt her mystery guest sit down on the mattress. A warm, damp rag pressed to her forehead. ''Amy?'' the voice prompted.
The gears in her head were sputtering, weighed down and clogged by the events of the previous hours when Campbell woke up again. Her memories came back gradually, but she was shocked to life by her company. For a brief moment, she wondered if the last few months had just been some strange dream. After that, she fought to keep her eyes opened. ''Wh... what're you doing...?''
Alexandra Pierce would never be confused for Helen of Troy. Her smile wouldn't launch a thousand ships; it'd stop a thousand hearts, cold from fear. It was a smile that her enemies had nightmares about, more the hint of a grin than an actual expression. Amy had seen it enough to know the little signs, the tiny wrinkles around her eyelids that she'd have to work to fake.
Over the months of their affair, Campbell had made it a science to study the little quirks in that impassive mien, and she could see the worry there that no one else could, even as the woman they called the Spider tried to play it off. ''You called,'' she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.
''I di--fuck.'' The groan narrated her attempt to sit up, only to remember the handcuffs and realize how stiff and sore her arms were from being suspended overhead. She blearily watched her hands move, but couldn't quite feel them. ''She called.'' Amy wasn't sure if that would make any sense, but it would have to do - she was more worried about getting out of her bindings than explaining. ''Can you...?''
''Yeah. Of course.'' Alex scooted up the bed, producing a set of handcuff keys from... from God-knows-where, actually. Even after all this time, Pierce still had tricks that Amy hadn't figured out. One moment, her hands were empty; the next, the set of keys jingled at Amy's ear.
There were always things about them being together that Amy had found fascinating, but Alex's skill at sleight-of-hand hadn't factored in until now. The corded muscle of the other woman's dancer thighs, wrapped in tight blue jeans at Amy's side had, as well as the point where those legs met her back, and the tiny tip of her pink tongue, trapped between Alex's teeth as the taller woman worked on that lock.
Amy blushed, turning her head to the side to hide her flushed cheeks. ''Whew, this must be... they gave me something, and it's... it's warm in here.''
''Probably something to make you high if you shouted for help,'' Pierce said distractedly, shifting on the bed to get a better angle at the lock. She bent over awkwardly, narrowing her eyes. The positioning accidentally created an excellent view, and Amy's mouth suddenly seemed dryer than before.
''The drugs,'' she said. ''Yeah.''
The lock clicked, and Alex leaned back onto her feet, her smile somewhat worried. ''I'm not sure she'd give you actual drugs, though. Too difficult to control your reaction, and with four guys in your bedroom... there'd be evidence if you spun the story the right way.''
''... I never even told you who 'She' was.'' Amy eventually blinked away the nerves, stretching sore arms. ''Or that she brought company.''
''Footprints on the rug at the top of the stairs, at least two different treads – a heavy boot and a dress shoe.'' She turned and looked that way, gesturing vaguely. ''Figure two guys up here, three if it was someone expecting trouble. You said 'she', but there's no sign of anyone else, so it's someone trained, probably soft-soled sandals or something.''
Half of Alex's smile stretched, and she didn't quite turn back. ''You get this... this hitch in your voice when you're talking about Kathi. Like the thought of it burns somewhere deep down. She has a designer in Italy who makes her shoes for her, special order. I figure she hired some guys, maybe told them it was some kind of reality show or something. Lord knows she has her ways.''
One of Pierce's hands touched the amber stone at her throat. ''I'm... I'm sorry.'' Her eyes closed. ''She'd been quiet for the last couple months, and I thought she'd moved on.''
''Nobody ever truly moves on.''
Ignoring how telling her words were, the smaller redhead shifted to sit up slightly. Her tanktop was torn wherever it wasn't crusted with blood, and it didn't look like any of her pillows would be salvaged. She'd just tried to downplay the tension in the room, but she couldn't help bringing it to a boil again with words. ''Why did you come?''
''Because you called,'' Pierce repeated. ''You don't ever drunk-dial me.'' Her eyes dropped. ''I figured you'd deleted my number from your phone to keep that from happening. Even if you had, you'd have said something, not just laid there and... how long did you struggle?''
''I don't know. I was awake for a lot of it. It... it felt okay. I don't know what they gave me, but it wasn't coke, it...'' When she closed her eyes again, Amy realized that one was bruised and swollen at the socket, and the dull pain made her cringe. ''I thought they left me to die.''
The water on the washcloth had cooled somewhat, but Alex reached out with it anyway, only stopping herself from touching it to Campbell's eyesocket at the last second. ''Here,'' she said gently, putting the cloth into Amy's hand instead. ''Go get cleaned up, then I want you to come back here and tell me everything that happened. All of it.''
Amy shook her head gently, reaching for one of the open wine bottles on the nightstand. ''I'll throw up if I stand up right now, if I can even do that much.'' She said. ''Just hand me a shirt and tell me why Shaw knows who my dad is, and why I can't seem to shake this fucking nightmare. There's no way she came here just to 'warn me' about hurting Lane...''
''It's possible she just figured it out.'' Pierce rose reluctantly, crossing to Campbell's dresser. ''Like I said, she's been almost entirely off the table since New York. I thought she was taking the business seriously, trying to push the Hand back to the forefront to prove she could do it alone.''
The tanktop she picked was Alex's favorite; army green with a pair of raptor's wings across the front. ''I don't know what she wanted, honestly. Last time I saw her out of an arena was... New York, probably, the week of GTT finals. She was at some high-level meeting. I... I wasn't close enough to hear anything. It's about me, probably. Trying to rattle you, send you to me. They're making their play, probably want me splitting focus.''
She handed the shirt over, lips turned down in a frown. ''It's about me, chances are. You're still the only way Kathi's ever going to come for me; no matter what you think of her, she'll never touch Quinn.''
Sore as she was, Campbell didn't think twice about pulling her shirt off to replace it--she hadn't even bothered to look for Alexandra's reaction. ''Dealing with this shit was a lot easier when I at least had someone to sleep beside.'' Amy swallowed, trying not to let the cracking in her voice through. She was breaking down, nothing more than a bundle of nerves, but she had to pretend not to care. It couldn't look like anything more. ''I wish it... wish. I...''
She usually loved to be right. When she made a move to stand up, it was one of the few times where she would have liked to be wrong. Those nerves dizzied her, and hours without water while drugs raged through her system and a concussion rattled her brain sent Amy back down. When she fainted it was only momentary, but enough to ring the back of her head off her bedframe.
... Dream Interstate...
It was a day like any other day. The fog rolled in off the bay, protecting the city like a warm gentle blanket. The last few leaves tumbled from the treetops, carried away on wisps of the morning wind, and the birds that chirped away all summer had long since migrated to warmer climates.
Like the city she'd grown to love, Amy Campbell had her own protection, a pile of mismatched blankets, comforters, and quilts that formed a tiny cocoon for her to sleep away in, swaddled, warm, and safe, impenetrable to the world. It wasn't often that she emerged from her cave before noon, and on those days, it took a mighty force to pull her out of her dreamland.
Forces like bacon, for example.
It was the scent of it on that cool November morning that she'd remember, that warm, sizzling smell of cooked flesh that would forever keep her from becoming a vegetarian. It was one of those smells that instantly set off the stomach, which quickly remembered it had been some ten hours since dessert, and it growled louder when she realized it was somehow getting closer. Fuck all these fancy alarm clocks – she needed something that would wake her up by frying up some bacon. And were those eggs? And... and toast? The world was cruel in its kindnesses.
''Aim?'' The voice was gentle, soft – a tone Amy never would have thought she'd hear when they met, but now something she'd grown to look forward to. ''I made breakfast...''
''Mhmm.'' Campbell opened one eye, not squinting quite enough to hide the mischievious sparkle when she looked over to Pierce and mumbled, ''Without a fire alarm. I'm impressed.''
''Bacon and eggs isn't exactly hard,'' Alex said, setting the tray down on the bed. ''You can either have some, or I'll feed it to the cat.''
''Let's not get ahead of ourselves... I never said I wasn't gonna eat - I'm just holding out for a few minutes.''
''Holding out?'' Alex's laughter was quiet; Amy had never heard Pierce give a belly laugh – at least not a real one. ''Is this like a sports star, where you're demanding a better deal? Do you expect me to add French toast?''
''Holding out to see how bad my hangover actually is. Is Quinn at school already?''
''Her taking a sick day would constitute a national emergency.''
Amy smiled softly into the pillow. ''I don't know how she does it. If it weren't for drugs, boys and potential fights, I never would've gotten out of bed for high sch--not what you wanna hear.'' She chuckled. ''Actually, speaking of hangovers and early rising... how the hell are you even alive right now? You always cook when you feel like you owe me something, but I don't remember much after you agreed to split the tequila with me.''
''When you're trained to deal with sodium pentathol, even the best tequila is like drinking water.'' Alex said these things so calmly, Amy never knew when she was kidding. ''My head's a little stopped up, but I'll live. And I don't only cook when I feel like I owe you something. When I was a little girl, while Ray and Andy were out with Dad, my mother and I would make food for their lavish dinner parties. The skills have atrophied a little, but I think I can still manage breakfast.''
When Alex looked back to the smaller woman, Amy's smile was in full force. ''How could I have made so many mistakes in my life and still be given all of this?''
''Are you still a little drunk?''
''I mean it.''
''Let's not ruin the mood by comparing ledgers, hrm?'' Alex's smile was touched by sadness. ''I'd still win, just for El Salvador.''
''You're the one burdened with me.'' Amy finally rolled over, groaning groggily. When she stretched her arms out, she squirmed under the sheets and finally laid eyes back on Alex. ''I'm a mess. You're organized. You have your plans and your secrets and your fiercely loyal psychopaths. You're the best at what you do, even if it's not always good. I have a cat, a lot of bad habits and the only things I don't suck at involve either wrestling rings or beds. For all the horrible things you've done, you've not done them to me... you're the strongest person I know, the only person I feel safe around even when I absolutely shouldn't.''
''Turning a blind eye to history,'' She continued, ''I wonder how I got so lucky and why you've taken in a stray like me. I have nothing to offer you. I can't even make my own damn breakfast without a grease fire.''
''Stop it.'' Pierce touched both hands to Campbell's cheeks. ''You're kind. Decent. Thoughtful. Courteous, even – in your own way. You have problems, sure, but who doesn't? Your problems have never brought guns to a Sunday barbecue, and you see past the image and the reputation and the horrible things that I have done, and you treat me like a person.''
Her hands skimmed along Amy's shoulders, down her arms and took her hands. ''If anyone else said those horrible things about you, I'd fight them. Hell, you would fight them. So quit it and enjoy some eggs. Try the hash browns. I saw a recipe on one of those cooking shows on Food Network.''
''Nuh uh. Still holding out.'' Campbell beamed. ''Stomach feels okay, but my head could feel better.''
''And what would make your head feel better?''
Amy nibbled at her the short nail of her index finger. ''Not sure.''
''That's not 'not sure'. That's 'you have to guess'.''
The little redhead's smirk stretched, just a touch – but enough for someone as observant as Pierce. ''Kiiiinda obvious, don't you think?''
''Maybe I'll hold out. I mean, you doubt my motives, you scorn my food. I'm aggrieved, I think.''
Campbell touched her hand to Alex's neck, the spot where it met the shoulders, and her hand would fit perfectly. ''You don't seem aggrieved.''
''I'm a very good actress.''
''Not when you're around me.'' Her hand twined in the Spider's rusty hair, pulling her down. ''Then you're just a fair one. Not like you're going to win any...''
Alex was smiling as she shifted, careful to avoid the tray. ''You do this just so I'll tell you to shut up, don't you?''
''I give you a hard time because I love you more than I thought it was possible to love a person,'' Campbell hurt the Spider's defenses with a small peck on the lips. ''And because I like to think it's mutual, and nothing will ever change that, no matter how many buttons I push. Oh, and the part where you shut me up. I talk too much, it's a cur--''
She always remembered this part the best. Alex Pierce was a hard woman with an elevated capacity for violence and a skill for deception that was honestly terrifying. But the moment right before Alex kissed her, she let down all her walls, all her shields, and she just... was. Amy saw behind the mask, the vulnerable, soft, feminine woman that cowered at the core of the Spider.
It was like a butterfly hidden behind a wall of thorns, and it was one of the most breathtaking things Amy had ever laid eyes on, so much so that the soul-searing kiss was almost an afterthought – but it was a hell of an afterthought, all soft lips and nibbling teeth and probing tongue. It was a hell of a way to wake up in the morning.
... Or in the car.
The dream--memory, as it were--made recent events fade, just for a moment. With Pierce's hand patting her thigh, it was far easier to forget and, for a few seconds, she did. It was unconscious and setting herself up to feel all the pain all over again when she remembered recent events -- like their break-up -- but Amy was happy in that moment of ignorance, a dream lulling her into forgetting betrayal and months apart. It never occurred to her that they were in a car and she didn't know where they were going, or what they'd been doing. Never crossed her mind that she had a head injury. Instead, she leaned to rest her chin on Alexandra's shoulder as the Director drove, planting a soft, quick kiss on her neck, followed one after the other until her earring tickled Amy's nose. ''What a weird dream.'' She murmured. ''Strange, creepy feeling waking up...'' It was raw affection, and continued as the car slowed, veering to one side.
The Spider's Adam's apple bobbled for a moment, her voice soft and sort of scratchy. ''Aim-Amy,'' she said. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. Pierce's tongue slipped out, wetting dry lips. ''Amy, I—''
''You, you...'' Amy giggled, mocking the stutter as they pulled onto the gravel at the side of the road. ''You hate when I fall asleep in the car, because you have nobody to talk to. I know.'' Campbell had been fully taken by the head injury and whatever drug was coarsing through her - that much was obvious to all parties except her. In that moment, she was missing a few months of her own life - it sounded quite relieving, in truth. She nuzzled into Pierce when the other woman applied the parking brake, still gently peppering kisses along her jaw. ''I must've dozed off with this splitting headache. I'm sorry.''
''Amy, stop.'' Alex's eyes were pinned closed, her hands frozen in place. ''Please, I...'' Pierce didn't quite tear up, but the stone of her eyes was speckled with rain. Her whisper was so soft, the other redhead couldn't have heard it if she wasn't as close as she was. ''Just... think for a... Amy.''
''Too sleepy to think about anything other than how much I hate when you're mad at me.'' She did remember to smile at how organized and put-together Desade was, even for such a dangerous woman. The humor wasn't lost on her when she unbuckled the Spider's seatbelt. ''I--God, I'm tired.'' Amy sighed into Pierce's ear, an arm sore from injuries she couldn't quite recall sliding to the taller redhead's hip. ''I'm not sure why you're so wound right now.''
Alex's eyes didn't open, and her right hand unbound from the wheel. The left stayed in place. ''Amy, you're not thinking clearly.'' The rebellious right hand traced Campbell's spinal column. ''We'll miss Quinn's show.'' It was a weak, half-hearted excuse, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
''I just woke up,'' She was a bit dizzy for some reason, but came forward a bit in her seat so she could crane her neck, almost meeting Pierce's eyes. It was an Amy Campbell that Alexandra hadn't seen in months - and it was nose-to-nose with her, eyes half-shut. ''I dunno how close to home we are, but the clock says it's not even noon. Quinn's band wouldn't play until well after dark, so will you relax? You looked so stiff and scared when I woke up, I figured--'' Planting a playful peck on her nose distracted the Red Raver. ''You needed some time from behind the wheel.''
''Fine, fine,'' Alex said. She forced her eyes open. It was acting, yes, and she'd feel bad for it later, but she had to hope the drug would run its course. ''Just... let's get somewhere to stop that's not in the middle of the road, okay? Let me just... let me find some place to stop. Are you hungry? I'm a little... I'm a little hungry.''
''There's a logging road entrance like twenty feet away, see?'' Amy leaned her head back onto Pierce, and the kisses on her neck began again. Lips hadn't touched yet, but the little redhead was persistant if nothing else. ''No food for me, my stomach feels weird. Let's just rest there for a minute.'' She mumbled. ''Or what passes for rest.''
Alex cursed herself a coward. ''I can't... I don't want to go back to the way things were in a logging road.'' She was shaking, on the verge of tears – it was everything she'd wanted for so long, right at her fingertips. ''I just want to... to find someplace proper.''
'' 'The way things were'?'' Amy pulled back a moment, pushing Pierce's chin up with a gentle hand. ''Al... I know you're stressed about Lauren's passing, about a million things... but this is me, okay? If you don't wanna stop here, we can go wherever... just loosen up or we'll crash before we get there.''
She wasn't too concerned about the fog in her head - likely a concussion suffered in-ring combined with a lack of sleep - but Amy worried for Alexandra just then. Still, she reached across the Spider's abdomen, grabbing her seatbelt. She began to pull it back across to buckle for Alex when the Spider's hand caught her wrist and Amy chuckled, then only half-concerned. She leaned into her neck again, nipping lightly. ''No more seatbelt, Miss 'Drive You Someplace Proper'? Someone's got her signals mixe--''
''Dammit, Amy.''
Alexandra Pierce had kissed Amy Campbell countless times before – hundreds, even. She used to keep a count in a diary. (Roderick Ashe read it once, and paraphrased it as, ''Today, I was psychotic but Amy made my knees weak.'') But that time, in that car, in that logging entrance, with that woman, she felt... she felt guilty.
No, she didn't.
Intellectually, she felt guilty. Her brain screamed at her in every voice, in every language she'd ever known. But she wasn't actually guilty. She used to think she wasn't wired right – or, more specifically, that everyone else was wired wrong. She'd say she didn't feel guilt the way the rest of the world did. But that was a lie – it was just that the Spider was no more skilled a liar than when she was lying to herself.
So the feeling when she caught a whiff of that peach scent, the started-gentle touch of their lips, it wasn't guilt. It would be later, but it wasn't right then. It was need. It was fever. It was a momentary, fleeting – she knew it'd probably be gone before the kiss ended, but right then, the house of cards that made up the Spider's psyche was blown down by the force of her surrender.
''There's my Alex,'' Amy muttered during pauses to breathe. ''You looked so sad before. Let's fix that.''
When the kiss passed, so did the moment, and Alex had to fight not to burst into tears right there. ''I love you,'' she whispered. ''You know that, right? You'll always be the only one.''
''I love you, too.'' Campbell's smile had a mischievious tint to it. If only she remembered her life from a few hours before, she might not have accidentally broken Pierce with truths. ''And that's never going to change. No matter what, I won't run away from you. Try to forget about your Hand for a minute,'' Again, those kisses along Alexandra's jaw. ''It's scary when you're wound so tightly that you shrink like this, and I just woke up from Dream Alex's mouth writing a check that Real Alex doesn't seem interested in cashing. When I leaned over a second ago, you pulled away like you'd poison me...''
''But I'm not that fragile,'' When Amy continued, she made one smooth motion to wedge herself between Pierce and the steering wheel. She cringed from the phantom injuries, then brushed hair from the Spider's teary eyes. ''And you're not turning this car back on until I can get you feeling better, or we're headed for an accident.''
''I just...'' Pierce buried her face in Amy's neck, her words each a kiss of their own. ''I just don't ever want to lose you, and I'm so scared that everything I do here will...'' She swallowed hard, her face coming free in Amy's hand. ''I can't. Not now, not like this. I know you don't understand, but there's a cliff right here under my feet, taller and wider than anything I've ever faced before. If I... if we step off, I'll fall, and it's taken too long to climb this high.''
She sighed out, a long breath as she let their foreheads touch. ''I want this more than you will ever possibly know. I miss having you around to talk to. To... to be with. But I can't fly alone.''
''Are... Al, what're you talking about? I... you're not making sense, and it's sounding like a break-up speech. I'm not going anywhere. Here...'' The little redhead looked concerned more than anything, but she went the extra mile to kiss Pierce again. It was supposed to be reassuring - supposed to clear the air - but the weight of everything Amy wasn't remembering made that impossible. Alex had to be reminded that it wasn't Amy Campbell, not truly. That didn't make it any easier when the kiss continued and the Raver's hands fell to the top buttons of her former partner's shirt. ''Whatever's upsetting you...'' She nibbled Pierce's lips between breaths. ''I promise, I'm not going anywhere.''
''It's not a break-up speech.'' It was urgent; a whisper like Alex had probably never delivered before when she meant it. ''It will never be a break-up speech.''
''Then I really, really don't think now is the time,'' Amy said, unbuttoning the blouse in a series of quick motions Alex was helpless to resist.
''I just... I don't want you to hate me anymore.'' Pierce's voice was almost lost in a sob.
Once Campbell's fingertips skimmed across the porcelain flesh of her arms, all the walls came tumbling down. She inhaled briefly, as if she could capture the smell forever, and then all there was between them were lips and fingers and sharp sounds. It was chaotic and hectic and needful and wanton and glorious.
And it was altogether brief.
Amy collapsed right there, all the energy gone, all the life out of her. She was like a ragdoll in Alex's arms, and the Spider shifted her, oh-so-gently onto the passenger's side seat. Pierce swallowed her guilt and her rage – she knew then what they'd injected into Amy. She'd seen the other side of this drug last fall when she was framed for Lauren Fox's death, and the connection with Kathryn Shaw made everything just a little more convoluted in her head.
But she'd worry about that later.
Alex reached across Amy, pulling down the safety belt the way a parent would buckle in their child, and set her jaw as she backed out of the entrance to the logging road. Alex did what she'd always done – she buried her emotions, squelched her own desires, and focused on the here and the now.
It was a full thirty seconds before Alex realized she was crying, and her fingers were trembling as she wiped the tears away. She blew out a long breath, resting her forehead against the steering wheel as she tried to gather herself, tried to pull on a smile. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Amy, who'd be waking up and might be confused. The last thing she wanted to do was be fucking crying because she missed her. The last thing she wanted was –
A horn blared behind her, startling her upright. ''Control yourself, goddammit,'' she muttered in Margaret Winters' voice. ''You are in control, you are in control...''
''C-Control?'' A groggy voice moaned. ''What're... holy shit!''
Amy stiffened in the passenger seat, conscious once more. ''What the fuck is this about?!''
''Nothing.'' Alex turned her face away, scrubbing the heel of her hand against her cheek. ''It's nothing. You passed out at your place, and tonight is Quinn's big show, and so I decided to bring the two together.'' She turned just her eyes to the passenger's seat. ''You told her you'd be there.''
''You can't just--''
''I brought Reaper, don't worry, and you clearly aren't in any condition to be left alone.''
''So you just kidnapped me? I...'' Amy suddenly cringed, bringing a hand up to rub at her temple - the one that didn't have a blunt force wound near it. Her headache was nearly blinding. ''God, fuck Kathryn fucking Shaw.''
''Would you have preferred me to leave you there with God knows what kind of side effects to what she did?'' The question came sharper than she'd intended it. ''Because I can still turn around.''
It was strange to see, but Campbell shrank a little under that tone. She folded her arms and if you looked hard enough, she may have been pouting slightly. She'd never dealt well when Alex stood up to her, or met the little redhead's constantly hot temper with one of her own. ''What the hell's your problem now?'' She grumbled. ''It's hardly like I asked for this.''
''I'm a little frazzled,'' Alex said. She didn't offer an apology, however. ''I drove six hours in the middle of the night, worried you might be hurt or worse, had you pass out on the bed, and the first thing you do after you wake up is accuse me of kidnapping you, okay? How do you expect me to act?''
''Less bitchy? Can I go with 'less bitchy' here? I just had the most fucked up dream on the planet, and my head feels like it's being attacked by angry kittens. Oh yeah, and that whole 'Almost got raped, DID get the shit beat out of me and drugged with something, and now I keep passing out' thing might've had something to do with me being a little testy about my ex stowing me in her car and driving me away from home...''
''And yet somehow I get the feeling this is my fault.'' She tried to hide the pain in her eyes. ''Of course it is, because I introduced Kathi into your life, right? If not for me, you wouldn't have any of this to deal with. Is that what you're thinking? Because that's what I'm thinking.''
Pierce blew out a heavy sigh. ''It's been a hard few months,'' she said, her head dipped just a little. It was the closest she'd come to sounding regretful. ''But Quinn has been practicing for this for weeks, and I'm not going to miss it. Not for anything. So if you want me to take you back or to the hospital, then tell me now. Otherwise, confine your anger to Kathryn, okay? We both know it's my fault, but for a little while, I'd like to pretend it's not.''
In response, Amy just shrugged and tilted her head against the window. She spent the rest of the drive to Oakland somewhere between napping and blacking out entirely.
Ring...
Amy tapped her foot impatiently on the carpet.
Ring...
It wasn't like him not to answer. They'd only spoken a few hours before, when she assured him that everything would be fine and she was just in Oakland for Quinn's play. She hadn't mentioned that she'd been bound and drugged in her home that morning.
Ring...
She was getting agitated, but not nervous that Jared would be angry after their first conversation. In all likelihood, he was with friends or asleep in front of the TV.
Ring...
But she wouldn't take anything from the bullet until after she'd spoken to him, so the delay was an unwelcome one. She always felt so ashamed to be high when they were speaking, and avoided it entirely when they were together. It wouldn't be long before she was done with cocaine entirely, but there were still moments.
''Hey!'' She perked up upon hearing his voice. Unfortunately, a moment later she recognized it was just voice mail - her tone didn't waiver, though. ''This is your gooorgeous girlfriend, calling like I said I would to let you know I'm back from the play, that Quinn was awesome and that I'll be back home tomorrow morning, safely tucked away from people you hate. I'm hoping things look up a little this week, or you can probably expect me escaping California early to see you. I'm hating it here, like I said, but everything's okay and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Shoot me a text when you're home safe so I don't worry? Or not. I'm such a stalker. Night, mister!''
Finally, she pressed the 'End' button on her Blackberry. Not speaking directly with Jared left a bad taste in her mouth. Amy was always paranoid he'd be hit with the realization, likely aided by a drunken friend who didn't like her, that he was far too good to be slumming with a girl like her. Hopefully a little fix would squash the worries and help her get rid of the damn headache - which she wasn't sure was from the concussion or the drug Shaw gave her.
Perhaps she should have been more concerned about possible interactions, considering she had no idea what Kathryn had her injected with, but Campbell was hardly the type to have low tolerance when it came to chemicals. She felt safest when twisting the little metal bullet - her favorite, least visible method of transport and intake - and putting it to her nose. This time, as with the past few weeks, she was careful only to inhale a little -- she was trying to go sober, after all -- and made the initial sniff short. The second, harder snort sent the tiny granules to the back of her throat. It still made her eyes water, but her nasal passage began to numb almost instantly, and that's when she leaned in for another hit. Most people switched nostrils, but she'd never gotten used to the uncomfortable sensation of the drug clinging like cold mucus, so Amy took advantage of the quick numbness and always took two (or more - but things had changed lately) lines from the same nostril, allowing the second dose to be a little heavier and go down easier. That 'bad taste' from only getting her boyfriend's voicemail was soon gone.
The second bit was already in her nose, and she pinched her other nostril again for the hard inhalation that would take it from the bridge to the back of of her throat, where the rest was already taking effect, when the door flew open.
Quinn Gregory was riding a wave of euphoria, the usually dour, overly thoughtful girl wearing an ear-to-ear grin. There was a bounce in her stride, a skip in her step. Fantine was a hard role to play, the pressure of I Dreamed a Dream aside, and she was exhausted and yet ecstatic – she wanted to sleep for a week and she wanted to run right back out there and do it all again.
This must have been why Amy and Alex kept going to the wrestling shows, she figured. The adrenaline rush was indescribable. Her mom was beaming – Alex fucking Pierce beaming! Quinn wanted to share that with everyone around. Including Amy – especially Amy.
So she threw open that door, startling Amy enough that she nearly dropped the tiny little bullet. ''Oh, my God, that was so—'' And then she saw the scene, her mind working through it quickly. Her mood crashed, shoulders dipping down. She let the door close behind her, but couldn't get her feet to move. ''What. The. Fuck.''
The initial rush of the drug and the guilt hit Campbell at the exact same time, and it was almost too much to keep her conscious. She was dizzy for a second, stuffing the device back into her pocket quickly. There was no way Quinn would have known what it was, anyway. Things could easily be glazed over. ''W-What's got you so worked up?''
''You're using.'' The lie fired her indignity, and she faintly flew across the room, spinning the woman towards her with a sharp yank. ''You're still fucking using.''
''Watch your mouth!'' Amy was trembling - lately, she always was - but it ramped up under the weight of her nerves. ''And don't jump to conc--''
''You going to lie to me now?'' Gregory demanded, blinking away the tears. ''You're going to stand there and tell me you weren't just fucking snorting cocaine? I thought you'd cleaned up.''
''I have,'' She snapped. ''Don't talk about what you don't know, Quinn. It's not an overnight thing.''
''I know it is. Don't tell me what I don't fucking know. I know because, unlike you, I have been there, watching her beat herself up, watched her scrape and claw and try to become a better person. You know she can't bring herself to watch the show when you and Jared are on? Used to not matter, used to be she'd watch it all and find something no one else saw, but now a quarter of her competition are onscreen and she's reaching for the fucking remote control.''
''That's not my fault.''
''No. Nothing ever is, is it? You get high it's because Mom made it happen. You run off with another guy, it's because, hey, life's hard and you need company to get you through the night. What about her, huh? What's she supposed to have done? She beat herself up for four fucking months, and I mean straight through. She hasn't taken a client in weeks, has been run ragged by this shit in her life. And I tell her that I love her, and I do, but it doesn't matter, because deep down, she's been trying to prove herself to you. You.''
The girl's sneer was far too much like her mother's, an expression no one wants to see. ''I was hoping you'd come down here. I had little fantasies about you guys understanding, about working it out. About you seeing that she has gotten better, that she is the right one. Guess I was wrong, huh? Just a silly little girl doesn't know anything about anything, like you always say.'' Gregory was full-on crying now, fat tears threatening the mascara she wore for the stage. ''I fought for her with you, but I don't know why I bothered.''
Amy was willing her own tears to stay back. Her face hurt too much, it would sting too much to let them loose - not that she didn't deserve it. ''How can you stay shit like that?!'' It was easier for anger to replace hurt. ''She made her bed. I made mine.''
''So that makes it okay? She's changed every thing in her life, and all you've done is leave her behind for something more pliable, right? She did it all for you, and now... now you don't deserve her.''
The teen spun away. ''I don't want you to drag her back into your shit. Go back to Long Beach. Go back to your jackass boyfriend, and both of you can laugh about your delusions that you're somehow soooo much better than she is. She pretends for a living, but at least she's not pretending everything's fine.''
''Quinn—''
''I need you to go away, Amy.'' Gregory rested her forehead against the doorframe, but she didn't open the door. ''You'll get her hopes up, and she was just starting to move on.''
Amy could hardly breathe. She'd erected an emotional wall to deflect the words, but the very last of them had pierced through. ''... Move on?''
''Her name was Jennie.'' Quinn's whisper suddenly turned reluctant, softening. She didn't want to say the words. ''I've never met her, but Mom liked her a lot. They met in a Walgreens – can you believe it? Professional wrestler by day, international superspy by night and she met a girl in the waiting room at the pharmacy.''
Campbell took in the deepest breath she could, hoping her tattoos would hide the goosebumps. She tried not to let the emotions overflow, but the longer the teen was in the room, the less likely her success. A thousand things ran through her head, and none of them were kind.
''I'll be gone by the time you wake up.'' She finally snapped, pointing to the door. It was possibly the sternest thing she'd ever said to Quinn. ''Get the fuck out of my sight.''
The girl jerked open the door, not quite turning back. ''You don't get to be mad at me because you didn't give her the chance you would've wanted. Not when you moved on fucking months ago.''
''Go.''
And so she did, painting on a smile as she accepted the well wishes and glad-handing of the rest of the cast and the crew for a performance well done. She couldn't keep from looking back to that room, to that door, firmly shut. She couldn't keep from imagining that look on Amy's face.
By the time Quinn broke away from the wrap party, racing back to the little room, the little redhead was gone, and she stepped out the back door just in time to catch the brake lights of a cab turning out of the driveway.
Andrew Corbin
Only after watching her for two days did he begin to understand the allure. The redhead was still not the kind of person he'd ever--even then--give more than a second glance. She may have shared passtimes with teenagers, but she wasn't built like one - the girl had hips, even for such a small frame. She slouched whenever she sat down, even in the most formal settings, as if nothing was or would ever be wrong. Casual mannerisms gave off the impression that she knew what she was doing, that she was in control. They couldn't have been more misleading.
He'd watched her at the bars the same way he'd watched any of Desade's students - carefully. There was a major contrast to the reports he'd filed before, however; This one was a private matter for his boss that wouldn't get called up to any higher organization, as the man had retired. The woman he'd been sent to look after didn't carry herself like a predator, nor did he see the slightest bit of acting. She was a walking pose, sure, but she wasn't the personality chameleon that the rest were. In fact, her day-to-day appeared so uneventful and mild that he questioned why he had to be there at all. Andrew just sat through a high school production of Les Miserables to find something - anything - of interest. It nearly drove him to drink, but it had become standard for Malcolm Girard to send him on pointless assignments, so he kept quiet about it.
''She's as dangerous as any other hot-tempered fighter. I haven't found anything to suggest she's worth looking into at all.''
Well, mostly quiet about it.
''She's not even a challenge to watch.'' Andrew Corbin told his boss, ''Does nothing to avoid detection or conceal who she is. And the man, this Lane Stevens? A crazed pill-popper--maybe some sort of anarchist--but nothing more.''
Mister Girard had taken him from under his father's wing as an intern in the Order of St. Julian, an organization his father, grandfather and great grandfather alike had all been a part of. His great great grandfather, or so he was told, had aided in abolishing slavery with the help of the Order. Of course, that was years ago and the political, economic and social climates had shifted drastically. Now, the Order was filled with bankers, businessmen, spies, hired killers... and the list continued less than favorably. He didn't aspire to any of the latter, and that's what Girard claimed to be so promising about him.
Malcom looked more like a George Clooney or a Pierce Brosnan than any of the rest of them, and that was likely because he didn't have to wash his face with bloodied hands. Andrew had come to admire him for taking the business-like approach to almost everything. The Order was easily clouded by people like Desade, like Kathryn Shaw and Drusilla Devonshire.
''So explain why she's scary, again?'' He asked. ''She's not dangerous, at least to people in this line of work.''
''She's as dangerous as those who love her.''
''Yes - Desade and yourself, even, but she's presented no signs of a threat.'' Andrew shook his head slightly, leaning forward with elbows on the table. ''And while I understand the personal nature of this, I'm not sure I'm comfortable reporting for you to spy on your daughter when we could be--''
''You'll have more interesting assignments soon enough.'' Malcolm said, ''But understand that this isn't The Order. We're now operating in more low-key terms. You followed me from that organization because you claimed you didn't want to be your father; You wanted to do some good, and at a slower pace. Your future is bright and filled with legitimate business, Andy - don't turn back yet. You'll be a businessman, not James Bond, but your hands will be clean, and that's the most desirable part when you reach my age.''
''It's not that I'm insulted or feel my skillset isn't going to proper use. I just... I know that I'd be irate if my father had people watching me, reporting back with my every move, and--''
''You couldn't stand Amy two weeks ago when I sent you out, and now you're guilty over privacy? This is for her security, not to satisfy my appetite for control.''
''I'd just hate to see it interfere with our job security.''
''I'm sorry?''
''When I submit the folder, there are a series of snapshots among the final pages. Given that Alexandra Pierce was kind enough to provide me with a position under you after our exit from The Order...''
''Given that she was kind enough, you... don't want to be the one to bring whatever that folder contains into question?''
''To say the least.''
Malcolm laughed and took another sip of his drink. ''So you're leaving it to the old dog.''
''Well, you've known her far longer. She's less likely to...''
''Be Desade about it?'' Again, Girard laughed. ''Alexandra is a pussycat now, but I understand. That, and you seem to think this is none of your business. What am I going to find in this report?''
''Your daughter is spending the night here, in Oakland.''
Andrew had cut him off, but he continued simply, even politely. ''... And I suggest you pay Pierce a visit in the morning to get the parts of the story I'm unable to provide with any measure of accuracy.''
Gravel crunched under the wheel of Alexandra Pierce's sky-blue convertible as she turned up the driveway of the Shadow Woods Homes condominium complex. ''You were really great tonight.'' No one would confuse Pierce for the fearsome Spider in the Web, not right then. This was 100% pure doting mother. ''I mean, really. I didn't know you had those kinds of pipes on you.''
''Neither did I.'' Quinn smiled ruefully, lifting her eyes up the hood. A small part of her hoped Amy would be here. Hoped she'd understand. ''Mrs. Lawson heard me singing in the courtyard and asked me to try out. It's... it's really not that hard. Just had to find the character, like you always said.''
''I hope your next character is a sleeping girl,'' Alex said, putting the car into park. ''Because my little superstar needs to get her rest, and it's one-thirty in the morning.''
''Mom...'' Quinn whined, climbing out of the car. ''I recorded tonight's Ferguson. We should make some popcorn and watch. Before I'm inundated with fan mail and have to remember to thank you when I win my Oscar.''
The woman in the courtyard had blacked out twice since her conversation with the younger Pierce - once in the cab, which she excused as nodding off, and again on the outdoor step to Alexandra's condo. The second time, she'd hit her head again, but used her t-shirt to wipe away the little bit of blood. The headache had remained, but a sweet text message from Jared (to clear up he'd missed her prior call because of a late-night workout) had calmed her tears just long enough to keep a strong face as she approached the car that rolled in. Upon seeing Amy there, Quinn froze in place, and Alex had only just gotten out of the car herself, taking a nervous step forward.
Campbell halted all movement with her words. ''I need you to take care of Reaper for a little while. I...'' She sniffled and hoped neither noticed the blatant lie. Amy had known for days that her bank had called her out for defaulting on the mortgage for her new place. The money just wasn't there - not without someone to help her take care of it. Dan Mulholland had gotten her into too many bad investments, and then there were her habits. Either way, it was poor timing, but she didn't intend to have any opportunity to ask the favor again for a long, long time. ''I meant to ask a few days ago. My place needs to be sprayed for pests... termites or something... and he's way happier here than at a hotel with me. I'll pay for what he eats.''
It was the most defeated that Amy Campbell had ever looked. ''If someone could put my bag out on the porch, I'll be out of your hair tonight.'' She added, ''You did great, Quinn.''
''Mom...'' Quinn started, touching her hand to Pierce's forearm. ''She should—''
''Go on inside, hon. Make the popcorn. I'll be in soon. Maybe he'll do the cursing rabbit.''
''I...'' The girl's sea-green eyes met her mother's, and that was all it took to set her to nodding. ''Okay.'' She backed away for a full three strides before turning for the door.
''She loves the cursing bunny rabbit,'' Alex explained, her smile small and quiet. ''I'll be happy to take him if you want. Hermes has been giving him a hard time, though. Quinn said Reaper got 'back-jumped' earlier.'' Pierce made the hand-quotes. ''But you don't have to go.''
''I'm not surprised she notices the little things, what with all the training you've been giving her.'' Amy tried not to let that little twitch come to her nose. It migrated to her right eye instead, just for a beat. ''And I do have to go. You've got better things to do than look after me - maybe you could swing by Walgreens and pick up a few things once I'm gone. I hear blondes are on sale.''
Pierce faltered, but then her eyes narrowed. ''You have no idea what you're talking about.'' The dangerous whisper snapped through the words like the crack of a whip, soft but momentary. She forced it away with the closing of her eyes. ''Stay. Quinn will never forgive me if I let you live out of a hotel again.''
''I have my place, and I know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about. Just add 'Not making Amy stay' to the mountain of shit she'll never forgive you for.''
''I--''
''Oh, I'm sorry.'' The little redhead sniped. ''I forgot, everything's great now that you've got her acting like your fucking clone half the time. It must cut mother-daughter fights WAY down when she's got her very own little team to bring in and argue for her when she's tired. You should see if Drusilla needs work. That is, if you haven't been paying her for favors of your own already. Ooh! Maybe Kathryn. She looked pretty bored when she and those guys were tooling on my skull this morning.''
''You don't know,'' Alex said. ''You don't. Don't describe a picture when you're connecting the dots. Quinn is special, but she's sixteen, and it's a hard balance. I'm not the greatest mother in the world, but I'm the one that stayed.''
''You're the one that stayed? You're the one who sent me to pull her away from the perfectly kind, normal people who fucking RAISED HER. You're the one who's lucky they haven't made any legal moves to retain custory - because you gave up every right you had when you tossed her out so you could live your little spy movie.'' Amy's voice was raised. She stomped to Pierce without a thought of the consequences. ''You are the one who's pulling her into that now, and I'm the fucking bad guy for walking away from the woman who held my hand like she gave a shit while she guided me through the systematic dismantling of the life I had?! Fuck guiding me, actually -- you led the charge! Do you know how many times I've almost fucking died for you? Do you know how close Quinn's come? I'm a lot of things, but I'm so very glad I'm not you. Maybe I'd take that back if I saw the chicks you've been 'moving on' with, but I doubt it.''
''I am in no mood to be lectured, Amy.'' Alex narrowed her eyes, her back straightening. ''It is one-thirty in the morning, and I have had a very trying day of pulling your ass out of the fire. You think I'm so horrible a mom? Then go down to Texas and tell them. Because that girl in there is all I have, and you've been gone. Maybe she needed you, maybe I am a horrible influence, but she's the only person in this world that hasn't abandoned me, so fuck you for telling me what I did wrong.''
''Fuck me? You did. Mentally, physically and lying to me the whole time. She won't abandon you because she's unfortunate enough to have to call you her mother. I never abandoned you - not even when I should have.'' The shove wasn't pre-meditated - it was driven by emotion, not planning. ''So fuck you for every fucking second you were keeping things from me. Every lie. Ever night out when, God knows, you were probably fucking someone else and telling yourself it was for your 'Order', so it was okay. Fuck you for my dad - who I'm not speaking to because, even aside from nobody telling me who he was, I found out he'd already fucked you before I had the chance - and fuck you for even letting Kathryn Shaw live.''
''Fuck you for Drusilla,'' She pushed Pierce again, staggering forward. ''For fucking with Quinn,'' And again. ''For standing by, helping and encouraging me when I was doing bad things to fine people...'' The last move was followed by a stiff crack to Alexandra's cheek. ''And for making me hurt like only you could. I might not be innocent, but nothing I could ever do would put me in your league. If you wanna throw around 'Fuck you'? Fucking hit me. Be what you are, because I still see Desade just under the surface, and do what you're good at. Then you can put on a wig, wire yourself up and run to the pharmacy to pick up a date or hit on some fucking security guard for the 'greater good' of some so-called case. Fuck me up and go find... what was her name, Jenna? I'm sure she'll heal the wounds - she probably thinks you're just a silly pro wrestler. Do her a favor and keep her in the dark - I know first-hand how painful the truth with you can be.''
The last smack was caught, but it didn't stop her from finishing. ''And fuck you for every time you thought I was a toy or some trophy to help make people believe you were anything but a scheming cunt. Just like I was with Darcy, you're only sorry you got caught -- you've just been able to make a bigger production out of that so-called 'sadness'.''
The other woman weathered the storm quietly, her eyes blazing, but she released Campbell's hand without a word. ''She's gone,'' Alex said thickly. She cleared her throat, repeating herself. ''She's gone.'' It didn't sound any less miserable the second time. ''Snatched out of her bedroom just to fuck with me.''
Tears formed in her eyes. ''And it's my fucking fault. So go on! Yell at me about that. Curse me for ruining someone else's life. God knows I fucking deserve it, right? I've always fucking deserved it.'' Pierce slapped herself, hard enough to see stars, hard enough she threatened to draw blood. ''Come on! Hit me, Amy! It'd hurt a hell of a lot less this. If you've decided to hate me for one date, then you should be loving life right now, huh?''
''Shut the fuck up!'' Amy growled, raising another hand. ''I've decided to hate you because I can't just fucking fall out of love like I shou--''
''Mrow?''
Maybe it wasn't a question. It was probably just a sound. Still, Reaper planted little kisses on his favorite servant's eyelids. She'd been waking up and falling down all day. Pierce had brought her inside, both looking ragged, but Amy wouldn't remember a moment of it. She and the cat were equally oblivious to the goings-on of the past few months, but only one of them could use that whole 'I'm a house pet' excuse. The larger, more evolved of them had fallen victim to a drug. Moreover, she was a victim of herself -- the combination of the drug forced on her and the one she willingly took was bad -- but she was clueless.
The cocktail she couldn't remember being injected with was what was randomly wiping the slate of her short-term memory. She woke up in the place she lived only a few months ago. Her cat was there, her clothes were there - the deeper reccesses of her mind had no reason to raise alarms. All Amy questioned when she awoke was why she was in the guest room, but the taste of wine left in the nooks of her mouth provided a simple explanation.
She stood up and padded out of the room groggily, stretching achey joints. For a moment, she had to brace herself against the wall to ward off sudden dizziness -- Wyatt Connors was likely to blame for the bandage on her head, but she wasn't overly concerned about not quite remembering the night before her impromptu nap.
Most of the lights in the livingroom were off when she opened the door, except for a reading lamp next to the sofa. One look over the edge of the cushions revealed Alexandra under a quilt, and forced Amy to a halt.
'Shit, I probably got drunk and stupid and now she'll be pissed that she had to sit around worrying about me.'
The lithe - albeit stiff and injured - redhead proceeded with extreme caution, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible (for her) as she tip-toed her way to the couch. She wasn't sure exactly when Alex woke up, but Pierce's body tensed when Amy slipped under the quilt with her, curling up to her side and kissing her cheek. She quietly hoped her breath wasn't too rancid from the booze.
''Hey,'' Campbell whispered. ''Sorry for any stunts I pulled tonight.''
''You should be asleep,'' Alex said quietly. ''You've been—''
''A horrible girlfriend? I can only imagine. And wow, it's ridiculously hot in here for September...'' She raised an eyebrow when Pierce's expression changed. ''Wait, is it already October? My brain's shot to hell. Anyway...'' Another kiss landed on the Spider's chin. ''I might not remember what my drunk ass did tonight, but you can bet I'm sorry for it.''
''I can't do this again,'' Alex said.
''Do what? Did we get frisky and I don't remember? I know you hate it, but I promise—''
''It's June, Amy.'' The taller redhead sat up, combing her fingers through her hair. ''It's June. Not September, not October, but June. You've been... hon, you've been drugged and it's done something to your memory, but it's not the fall, and—''
''Has anyone told you that you suck at jokes?'' Amy laughed, tugging at Pierce's waist to bring her closer. ''There's no way I did that much coke. And my head is killing me, so it'd be awesome if we could save you being pissed off for the morning, because I'd very much like it if we could go pass out in our bed instead of trying to scare me straight right about now.''
She pushed Amy's hands away. ''No.'' She shook her head. ''Whatever she—whatever you took, it's a bad cocktail. Could have some lingering effects, and you know I don't like to take advantage of you.'' The lie killed her, but the truth might hurt Amy worse. ''Just... let's just lie here a bit till you get back to sleep.''
Amy's brow screwed up. ''What's going on with you right now? Just relax. I'm sorry for whatever shit I pulled, but I think I'm still a little faded and I honestly don't feel like laying on the couch and waking up any worse for wear than I have to. Let's be too angry to sleep next to me when I don't have dipshits like Wyatt Connors to contend with at work.''
She continued while she walked to the master bedroom. ''And I can never get to sleep alone, so you're not getting away with couching it to prove a point tonight.''
''Fine, we can... we can go to bed. But you have to promise me no funny stuff.'' She touched a finger to the tip of Amy's nose. ''I mean it. I'd feel guilty for a week, and what did – what do you always say about a guilty Alex?''
''That she's got the most adorable pout and I absolutely love it?'' Amy smiled in response. ''But I'll save 'funny stuff' for morning. Cross my fingers.''
''Your heart.'' Alex was still smiling when she stood, but she told herself she was faking it. ''Cross your fingers means you're lying. Let's go. To bed with you, young lady.''
When Amy made it to the bed and collapsed, she was still conscious. She was also beaming in spite of her headache, watching Pierce enter the room.
''Heart's not mine anymore.'' She noted. ''So cross it for me.''
The Spider could not stand in the face of that smile, collapsing onto the bed. Amy Campbell followed soon thereafter, and they assumed their usual positions – the smaller redhead with her head on the taller one's shoulder, doing most of the talking before she finally drifted away. As for Pierce, she said nothing and just listened, because she couldn't bear to say a word that might break the spell of the drug - the one thing that was giving her small glimpses back to what they were, even if it was a little dishonest not to try snapping Amy out of it.
She was silent for that, and because her ears still rang with the words Amy would remember saying.
Feeling safe around Alexandra--Desade--doesn't have anything to do with affection on my part. I know that the woman she appears to be more and more now really does love me, but I'd much rather have Jared as that knight in shining armor. Knowing I'm safe around Alex isn't as reassuring as it should be, considering the only reason I can say such a thing is because of her past combined with her obsession. I must have blacked out again after I went off on her when she came back from Quinn's show and, needless to say, I wasn't particularly pleased that she chose to drag me to her bed. That's where I woke up, and it looked like she was bright enough not to have stayed the night in the room with me.
Not seeing her, though... that's when the guilt set in. I barely remembered what I'd said, but I know it was vicious. I can't ever remember being that hurt.
She was nowhere to be found when I walked into the kitchen, but there was a letter with a phone number explaining that she'd arranged for a driver to take me to Long Beach. Because of that trust I mentioned, I didn't think twice about dialing the number - even after the horrible things I said, the woman wouldn't hurt me. The fact that she was somehow payng for the car in spite of my cruelty only churned more guilt, and because my week couldn't get any fucking worse, the guilt was quickly followed by a strange phonecall from that asylum in Reno interrupting my dialing and changing my plans...
The knock on the door was soft but repetitive. No musicality, just business. Alexandra Pierce was up already – even at half-past seven, there was something that needed to be done. She wore light pajama pants and an off-gray tanktop. True to her training, she peeked through the keyhole.
Malcolm Girard was front and center, his hands at his side, no attempt to hide himself or the fact that he was armed. Alex sighed quietly, padding away from the door on cat's-feet back to her bedroom and shutting the door quietly before she returned to open the one Girard stood behind.
''Ah, Malcolm!'' she said softly. The need to feign surprise was ingrained – ''normal'' people weren't supposed to be as paranoid as the Spider. ''I wasn't expecting to see you so soon.''
He'd known her a long time, but their greetings were still so stilted. It likely came from years and years of muting their real personalities, disguising feelings or any chance of friendships with false pleasantries to lull the general population. ''Well, I am a little starved for a case to spring this partnership to life, but I imagine my e-mail sufficed. Andrew brought something a little strange to my attention recently, though, and I was wondering if you might have some insight to offer...''
''Of course, of course.'' She stepped past on bare feet, walking down the concrete path to the communal mailbox. ''Make it interesting, please.'' She smiled over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow. ''If I don't see something interesting soon, I think I may go crazy.'' The grin that followed was tinged with some emotion she didn't really feel. ''Don't say it.''
''Oh, it's interesting.'' He chuckled, but spoke flatly after that, trailing slowly a few steps behind Pierce. ''But you've already seen it, and I think it may have impacted your standards for 'going crazy'. Before I forget, though - how was Quinn's play? I had Andrew go to send my best and, truthfully, to annoy him a little. He's great fun to keep in his place.''
''You always were hard on your interns, Malcolm.'' Alex's key fit neatly into her mailbox, but the box itself was unsurprisingly empty. She was as diligent about collecting it as would be expected. ''And I say this as the woman who had to pick your coffee up before every important meeting.''
''A man needs his caffeine fix.''
''You sent me to San Diego.''
''But it was good coffee.'' He smiled, the lines of his face softening. ''And it teaches humility.''
''Quinn is the best actress in her family, and that should tell you something,'' she said. ''Well... out with it. You know I hate it when you dance around a subject.''
''You may have heard that Amy hasn't exactly embraced me with open arms, particularly after hearing what other lengths I can convince interns to go to.'' Girard swallowed and patted his hair awkwardly. It wasn't often that he felt slighted - but discussing sex with the woman who became Desade was definitely one of those topics it was best to skirt. ''Not the men, of course, but... I, ah. In the spirit of clearing the air with her, I confessed that little encounter years ago that you've likely forgotten about entirely. I didn't have much of an explanation to offer -- she seems to be the only woman I can't talk my way out of a rough spot with -- but the bruise on my cheek has healed nicely, so there's that.''
Alex said nothing, but began small steps back down the driveway ahead of Malcolm. He continued, again scratching nervously at his head. In truth, Amy wasn't the only woman he had trouble talking to, but he'd scarcely tell Pierce that she put him so on guard. ''More to the point, I suppose - I've had Andrew follow Amy, mostly to insure her safety in Long Beach, and one of the more interesting tidbits he could provide me was a set of photos from yesterday. Put no blame on the boy - it was the job I asked him to do - but I was under the impression that you and my daughter were... well... not on warm terms, and I'm more than a little concerned that you dragged her unconscious from her home at the crack of dawn. If it was some sort of a rescue from her usual drunken hijinks, I'd dare to say that might be a more appropriate task to put on my shoulders.''
''It was Kathryn.'' She didn't turn back, but the false cheer drained from her voice like it had fallen into a sink. ''She had... men... break into Amy's loft. They injected her with... with some version of the drug that was used on me last fall. Which ties them to Lauren's death, as we both suspected.''
Malcolm shut his eyes briefly. He had to stifle the shudder. ''So Kathryn kills two birds with one stone by making a play for you using Amy's wellbeing, and can claim to do it in the name of Lane Stevens. That needs to be brought to the attention of the entire team, if not for their own safety. I hope you don't mind the brief outburst, but I'm sorry you ever trained that horrid cunt. Shaw, that is. I won't call the reputation of the dead into this.''
''Still,'' He accompanied Alex back onto the enclosed outdoor entrance to her home. ''That doesn't answer everything. Don't take this as an accusation, but I'm not dim - after what I saw in Andrew's report from a few days of watching her, I fully expect that you provided my daughter with an awfully warm bed.''
''She has... bouts of memory loss where she doesn't remember the last few months even happened.'' Alex turned just her head, and he didn't have to see her face to know the proud Spider was still in pain. ''Where she does not remember... what happened between us.''
''Ah.'' He could say no more. They both knew what that meant.
''She was... biddable... during those spells. Even willing. I couldn't...'' She stopped on the stoop, dropping her head. A veil of red hair spilled into her eyes. ''I've sent an email to Sarah Riley.'' Nothing in her tone made it clear what she thought of that particular decision.
''If the feelings weren't still there, her mind wouldn't allow the memory loss to have her act out in such a--'' When he realized what he was saying - the possibly false hope he was giving - Malcolm stopped himself. ''I'm sorry. I can imagine it's trying for you to deal with. Just... get her back to Long Beach today, will you? It's the only reminder of her current situation. If she's not in a familiar place - your company, your car, your home - she's far less likely to forget the larger details. Her current committment to Jared Sykes, for instance. I imagine Kathryn knows the havoc that drug would wreak if Amy was put into your custody, taken to the home you shared after it was administered. Likely, she wants to see Amy's relationship sabotaged for her own amusement, and I don't have to tell you that Amy needs that foundation right now.''
''I know.'' Alex's nod wavered a little, but she repeated it, and it came more firmly the second time. ''Dr. Riley said the same thing. I just... I couldn't bear to see her hurt, but Quinn's play was last night, and I'm... I'm trying to provide some normality. Now I can't bear to have her here.''
Her eyes drifted to the door. ''I... I will slip if this continues, and I could not live with the guilt of that.''
''I understand. For what it's worth,'' Malcolm tried not to call Sykes by name again when he referred to him as 'breathing room'. ''She loves you fiercely, and I truly believe you two will be together in the end. Anyone can feel that between you. She just needs this breathing room. I can't see anything staying between you for long, just... keep her safe for today, will you? And don't give up. You may need to wait a while, but there's no better match - she'll come around. Whether I think that's healthy or not is another story.''
''I'll have Andrew keep an eye on her,'' He added. ''And then the rest of us should discuss why Kathryn's plays have gotten so loud.''
''She's gearing up for something, of that I'm certain.'' Alex sighed out, letting the ragged edge of the day out in that breath. ''She and I will have a chat soon enough.''
''I know it's foolish of me to say, but avoid doing anything reckless.''
She turned then, walking backwards. It was as if he hadn't even spoken at all. ''Your daughter will be safe, Malcolm. You have my word on that.'' The Spider touched her hand to the doorknob. ''And make sure your boy is ready.''
''I'll give him your best, and I appreciate the honesty. This situation looked...'' Girard sighed. ''It involves her, so it sorely needed to be addressed. I'm not comfortable with Amy's continued involvement.''
He finally smiled and tipped his head to her. ''Either way... try to have a good day, Alexandra.''
''You have that old feeling, don't you?''
''The creeping dread?'' Malcolm asked. ''Yes, and I didn't want Amy in the picture when it came again. They mostly respect the boundaries around Quinn. We're not so fortunate with my daughter.''
Alexandra finally sighed, opening the door to her home. She hoped Campbell wasn't awake yet - especially with the woman's father standing just outside - and was pleasantly surprised to find the bedroom door hadn't budged. She didn't offer any answers or assurances aside from Amy's safety that day. ''Try and have a good day yourself, Malcolm.''
WIth the vultures circling so close now, that day was all she could safely promise.
The whole plane trip, I felt ill. The more he's around me, the sooner he'll realize he can do better. I don't want to dive into his life, because it seems like he exists with such smooth edges. That smoothness contrasts where my being is made up of sharp corners and jagged edges. I don't want to ruin a potentially great thing by trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, so I've been taking time and giving space to sand myself down. This week in particular, I failed horribly at that - the world wanted me to be full of splinters, and it wouldn't allow for anything else. It all came to a head when I found myself driving to fucking Nevada to visit Lane Stevens. A doctor had called me to do it, and I refused... that is, before Kathryn Shaw nearly killed me in his name. Before Quinn crushed me. Before I crushed Alex. It was before everything, and then he dropped the goddamn bomb that left me reeling.
Before he nuked me, he told me he'd hurt the person I cared about most. He said I still had a chance to save them, but it wouldn't last forever. I'm not ready to put to words who I called first, but Lane gave me more cause to run away, to go try to find some sanity in the arms of a person I cared about more than most. Even then, all I could think about was how I was going to keep Stevens quiet.
Mass.
It was probably a bad idea.
As a matter of fact, it was a terrible idea, and she wasn't ignorant of that, but it didn't stop her from shakily hopping up the step to his door. Maybe she'd gone all that way to suffocate him, to try to make up for the fact that he wasn't the first person she called after her time in Nevada. Maybe it was more self-sabotage. His car was there, but she briefly wondered if he'd answer the door at all. Maybe he had company - he understandably wouldn't want her around in that case, right? Or a girl...
Either way her paranoia spun it, and no matter how many times she'd done it before, the walk up to the door still gave her butterflies. Amy tried to stamp down the jealousy that the brief freedom of her imagination had brought in with the tide, ringing the bell.
''Yep, just a second.'' Came the voice from the house. She could hear the muffled footsteps on the other side of the door as he drew closer. The handle turned, the door flew open, and standing in the hall was a grinning idiot. Her grinning idiot.
''Mom!'' he shouted back into the empty hall. ''Someone left a Canadian at the door! Can we keep it? It looks hungr…''
In the movies, a woman jumps into her lover's arms gracefully. The perfect kiss follows, and the cameras tastefully cut once they've made their way upstairs, into bed, just before they pass a PG-13 rating. In the ring, when Amy Campbell jumps or Jared Sykes catches someone, it's equally graceful, just as fluid and beautiful in its own way.
They had their perfect kiss, but both briefly regretted not being in the movies or the ring when she jumped into his arms, legs around his waist. Primarily, it was because backing into a coat rack wasn't an entirely pleasant experience, no matter how pretty the girl doing the jumping was. Jared gently set her down when the little redhead laced her fingers in his hair, feeling for the small lump that the coatrack left.
''That was way sexier when I didn't factor in the laws of physics.'' Her grin was a little sad and quite apologetic, but because of proximity Sykes wouldn't have been able to see it anyway. He also didn't seem to mind much, using that closeness to kiss her again. ''I totally just gave you a head injury and a hundred future fat jokes.''
''Not a problem. I can think of worse places that thing could have ended up, and it’s not like it’s the worst thing I’ve been hit with lately.'' He wondered if the bandage on his forehead was rough against her skin, but the thought didn’t last long. ''Besides, general consensus is there’s nothing up there to injure. I’d say you’re in the clear.''
''General consensus is that we don't belong together, too.'' Amy straightened the hem of his t-shirt - idle hands being the devil's playground and all. ''Doesn't mean it's right. As usual, I booked a hotel for myself so you aren't completely stuck with me, but I was kiiinda hoping I could stay here a couple of days. I know you weren't expecting me this early, but I really needed to see you... and I hope that doesn't sound too creepy or heavy. I'm also willing to sell my body in exchange for a warm bed here, if that interests you.''
''I'm glad you're early. And you don't have to feel like you're imposing, Ames. Course you can stay here.'' His smile was warm as ever. ''Hell, I mean, fuck... Maybe I should just have a key made for you. This way you don't have to worry about whether I'll be home or not if you decide to come out a little early. You know, like always.''
''I think there's a 'coming out' joke here that I'm missing.'' She grinned. ''I'll grab my bag from the car in a minute, and I'm not pushing for a key or any of that. You need your space. Though I was kinda wondering... what're you doing for the rest of tonight? Or the week... or hell, maybe the rest of your life. Got time for a ginger kid?''
''Always.'' He kissed her lightly on the forehead. ''Did you have anything in mind? I was planning on just staying in and being lazy, but if you feel like going out we can do that, too. Oh, and the pool's open, for what it's worth.''
Campbell finally moved away from him, but only to slip her shoes off and nudge the door closed. With such short legs, her prowl back to him was more of a shuffle, but it would do. ''I was kinda hoping you'd be up for the idea of hanging out in bed, but after the week I've had, I'm up for anything as long as it ends with you holding me safe. That sounds so clingy and probably not too sexy, but yeah. I just... really kinda need you.''
He'd been so distracted, so enamored to see her, that only now did he notice the small collection of abrasions on her face. He moved to take her in his arms again. ''Hey, c'mere.'' The concern was evident in his voice. ''What happened? Are you okay? Is everything okay?''
Jared had raised a hand to cup her chin, but Campbell snared his wrist almost violently before he could touch. ''Got into a stupid little fight.'' She said, ''Please don't worry about me, just lo--just let me escape California for tonight.''
''Okay,'' he said softly. Jared stepped towards her and drew her in close. He held her gently for fear she might break. ''Anything you want. As long as you're happy, that's all I care about.''
She shook -- she always shook -- but there was something dark under the surface, something he knew she wasn't telling him. She tended to avoid worrying him with her problems, but many came out in little slips when she was laying in bed, just venting.
It took everything in her not to break down and cry just then. Everything was okay. There, in the entryway, there was nothing wrong, nothing painful. It was incredible to feel her whole week - all of the terrible things that she remembered and even those she couldn't - drown in that warmth and affection.
Whether the dark clouds from California cleared overnight or not, it never ceased to amaze Jared how someone so strong could sometimes feel so small and so very fragile.
Yesterday...
The visiting area was just as you’d imagine it.
It was a series of round tables surrounded on all sides by sterile walls. They don’t put windows in this room; in fact they don’t put windows in many of the rooms in this wing of the hospital. It’s a dangerous thing, to remind people like this of the outside world. Standing at the door were four guards, ready for the worst.
It was a special day, for a special patient.
They didn’t let him play with the others, so today the visiting room was cleared except for him. Lane Stevens wore the standard issue hospital gown proudly, like a member of the Yankees might wear the pinstripes. He drank his coffee (caffeine was the only drug available currently) while sitting in the dead center of the room. The River Rat looked giddy, the way a child might on Christmas morning.
The redheaded woman was let into the room by security and the nursing staff, but it seemed as though she burst through the doors, set at a sharp and deliberate pace as she came across the tiles with a rhythmic clip-clopping. The doctors had ordered the full security detail just outside the door, but they'd also forbidden them from entering the area unless there was a physical altercation. The patient needed this visit to progress, and the woman had been cooperative enough to agree to it. She'd already been briefed on the case she was intimately familiar with anyway, and had agreed not follow the doctors' instructions not to threaten or deliberately agitate the subject.
''Wipe that smile off your fucking face or you'll lose every tooth.''
You'd really think psychiatrists would have seen her coming a mile away, but it seemed like they honestly thought she'd keep her half-hearted promise to take their advice.
Stevens leaned in, and looked both ways in a deliberate motion to portray mock paranoia.
''They got me eating mostly applesauce anyway, at least that’s what I think it is. So that isn’t much of a threat. Anyway, you come to bail me out or what? I think you should take the three tall ones, and I’ll take the fat guard in the back. He’s got a bad back, I think I can take him!''
Amy kicked a chair out to sit at. She couldn't help but notice that anything potentially dangerous had been removed from the room - even posters, she could see where the sticky-tak hadn't been taken down entirely. She did her best to stare at Lane blankly, but there was a tiny flare to her nostrils as she made the effort to entirely ignore Lane's foolishness. ''So Kathryn came to visit my new place the other day. Seemed worried about you. Of course, she seemed to think you knew she'd be stopping by to see me.'' Campbell said flatly. ''Imagine that.''
The River Rat squinted slightly, seemingly pondering something.
''I told her to give you a cake. Something got lost in the translation, I think. Look, don’t be pissy! This is what we do. This is SO us!''
''Yeah, it's just like me to maintain communication with the psychopaths who've fucked my life up beyond repair.'' She sneered. ''Alex says 'Hi', by the way... oh, and I'm just throwing this one out there, but did any of your doctors happen to mention exactly how much pressure would have to be applied for your neck to snap again?''
The Hand’s former Warlord sighed deeply.
''Do you just need me to sign a piece of paper that says you’re more badass than me, so we can move on? Cause you are. Obviously. You just keep putting me on the shelf like an old book. Let’s just focus on the now. Let’s focus on…what I’ve done.''
She refused to buy into the gravity in Lane's voice just then. ''Aside from waste my time?''
The drugs he was on kept most of his facial expressions fairly reserved, but not even the pills could dampen the mischief dancing in his eyes.
''A lot of people made an investment in me over the years, and those people still got money. They got phones in here babe. They aren’t supposed to let me use them but…you know.''
Lane rubbed a few fingers together clumsily, signaling money.
''Yeah, I realized that while I was handcuffed to my own bed with Kathryn fucking Shaw above me.'' She was deliberately vague to avoid probable cause to get the police involved. Silently, she hoped that the doctors she knew were listening in wouldn't take those words for face value. ''And it's like I told her: There's nothing left to take from me. Your well's gone dry. All you've got is a whore you can send to my house to bother me enough that I'm forced to visit your sorry ass in this shithole.''
''SHE THINKS IT’S A SHITHOLE TOO! AND SHE DEMANDS YOU GIVE ME FRIED CHICKEN!'' he yelled at the guards. ''Sorry I took some liberties there,'' he whispered to Aimz. ''But see, here’s the thing. I know deep down you want to be a hero again. And that’s what I want you to be too. It was fun when we were on the same side, but that isn’t really the way this is supposed to go, is it?''
He could sense she was about to interrupt, and point out that they were never really on the same side of anything, so he pressed on quickly.
''…so what I’ve done, is given you the chance to be the hero again. I have made arrangements for the person you love the most to be harmed. Quite severely, in fact. You have the opportunity to stop it now! Isn’t that great?''
''Bullshit.'' The sudden change in her eyes called the bluff for her.
The River Rat wiped his brow.
''Then I guess you have nothing to worry about! Whew, almost had a real downer situation there. I wanted to keep this light and friendly.''
Amy looked him in the eye for what seemed like an eternity, her expression blank and unmoving. She searched his eyes for some sign of a lie -- it was almost always there, it was just a matter of discerning which words weren't the real thing -- but Stevens was drugged into a fog. There was no way she could be sure of anything in that room.
''The trick with Shaw... that was cute. You pissed me off and got me here, I'll give you that. What I don't get is why you're so convinced you've got any power outside of these walls. You've got nothing but a pill habit and a fucked up sense of the universe.'' Amy growled, standing finally and putting palms flat on the tabletop so she could lean closer for her threat. ''I don't know what the fuck you've ever thought there was between us, but this isn't a friendship. It's not a partnership. It's not a quirky dynamic. It's a nutjob and a woman who can't stand the sight of him. You're the psychotic version of the little boy pulling my braids on the playground, but it's done. Understand? Done. You're stuck. You've got nothing on me anymore, and I can't believe I almost felt badly for crippling you again. I lost control there, but it got you out of my face for a long time to come, and I can't say I regret that at all.''
''So go fuck yourself. I know when you're bluffing,'' She lied. ''And I'm done playing into your sick shit when you need me to. Visit's over, and there's not a damn thing you can do to get me driving back here again. Ever. I'm just glad that Regan's got a chance at having a life now that you're locked up.''
Stevens leaned back, in response to her aggression.
''Oh, that slut will find someone else to tell her what to do. Don’t worry about that. And as for you, take care Amy. I worry about ya. What with all those… oh, what did your doc call 'em... idiopathic seizures? I only skimmed the file I got.''
Lane paused for a second, weighing the response on her face. He liked what he saw, so he continued.
''You’re shakin’ like a leaf, babe.'' He said. ''That can't be healthy.''
They made eye contact then. All of their rivalry was pent up in that stare. Just as Lane’s lips started to form a smile, she lunged across the table, and landed a punch right to the nose. Within moments, there was blood everywhere. The sudden contact even took the security team by surprise, as they were late on the scene. A few strikes later, Amy Campbell was being being pulled off of the more recent Universal Champion.
''IT DOESN’T WASH OFF!'' the crazed Stevens yelled, referring to his blood. He was also being restrained. ''IT…DOESN’T…WASH…OFF! I’M ON YOU! I’M IN YOU! I AM EVERYFUCKINGWHERE!''
The drug seemed to be running its course -- she didn't faint when she was being pulled out of the room -- but she still nearly blacked out in rage. In that moment, it felt like he'd never stop. He proved he had reach outside of that building, and she hadn't expected it. Lane usually acted alone, but recent months had seen him branching out, even after she put him out of the ring viciously. It was feeling more and more like that loss of control on her part had done nothing but insure he'd never let sleeping dogs lie.
Moreover, he knew what she was trying not to even admit to herself. The tremors, the spells even before the drugs that Shaw had administered...
The River Rat had the ammunition to end her career early, even from the visiting room in a psychiatric hospital. He knew Amy Campbell was sick - sicker than she'd ever been - and that it was a slow, degenerative grind against her nerves. He had the reports, so he knew it hadn't been getting better or showing any signs of going away.
When they found out what it was, maybe the doctors would rename the disease after Lane Stevens. They had a lot in common, after all.