#and i do think Mimic would like to polish off Tangle too. as a treat.

[sage-nebula]

Mimic is Whisper's nemesis. Yes he has duked it out with Tangle before, and yes he is responsible for Silver getting his fee-fees hurt. But he murdered Whisper's team, has tried to hunt her down and kill her multiple times, tried to kill her new friends, taunted her about his past murders, and is really only here now because he STILL wants her dead. He has ruined her life, taunted her about it, and made attempts to ruin whatever life she tries to build from the wreckage. No beef anyone else has with him comes close. If Mimic dies (or is otherwise defeated) by anyone's hand, it NEEDS to be Whisper's. End of discussion.

[mc-amps]

Unknown Identity

There had been something cathartic about logging off Ray’s chatroom account. It was just the way he liked it. No name. No avatar. Just unknown.

Which made it harder to log back in several hours later. Unknown hated the flowery speech bubbles and nerdy emojis dominating his screen. But this would be worth it soon.

Now it was his turn.

Parked in his car, hidden by trees and darkness, he savored every sensation of being awake. The freedom of sitting behind the wheel made his heart pound.

The most exhilarating part was the promise he made to a certain Princess.

“You’d better be ready for me,” he whispered and opened the RFA app. Smirking, he pressed the call button. With each ring, he clenched his hand in anticipation.

“H-hello?” Each time she answered his call, her sweet voice became more cautious and fearful. He loved it.

Unknown didn’t respond right away and instead concentrated on her soft breaths. Every exhale was like a sweet treat. He closed his eyes, before letting out a shaky gasp. “P-princess!” It was easy to mimic the whiny voice in his head.

“Ray? Is that really you? Are you really back?”

Unknown held back his grin and instead forced his lips to tremble. “I m-missed you so much!” he whimpered. “I-I hope the other me didn’t frighten you. I-I’d never forgive myself if he upset you.” It was hard not to laugh, but hopefully she would mistake the waver in his voice for tears.

“I’m fine Ray, but are you okay?”

“I came here to get you, but it’s so dark and I’m scared.”

“Wait!” Her voice came out strained. “What do you mean? You’re here?”

“I had to rescue from that v-vile V!” Unknown was careful to mask his hatred as he thought of the teal haired fiend. Instead he made his voice more frantic and higher pitched. “Please come outside. I really need you.”

There was a pause. “I-I… I don’t know if should.”

She wasn’t as obedient as he hoped, but that was okay. “Why not? Is it because you hate me?” He pretended to cry.

“No Ray, I-!” she let out a shaky breath. “…I’m coming.”

Unknown bit back a triumphant cackle. The Princess would soon be his. “Th-thank you...” He hung up and stepped out of the car. The humid night’s breeze rustled through the hair he hadn’t bothered to brush as he adjusted Ray’s magenta suit jacket. It still was a mystery how that marshmallow enjoyed wearing such foppish things. Even after removing the cravat and gloves, the ensemble still suffocated Unknown. For the sake of his sanity, he already added his own touches like a leather choker and black nail polish.

Little things like that made him feel real.

He reached a clearing. Illuminated by the moon’s white glow sat the traitor’s cabin. Did they really think they could hide here?

The door creaked opened and there she stood. Unknown couldn’t hide his smile any longer. The hazy images of Ray’s memories became reality. She was even more breathtaking in person. His heart slammed against his chest as she dashed towards him.

The warm rush of her arms wrapping around him and her head resting on his chest sent delightful tingles down his spine. Was this a hug? Affection like that felt a distant dream, but now he craved it.

“I missed you so much. I was so worried.” Her voice cracked.

“I know,” Unknown whispered and tangled his fingers in her soft hair. “But I told you I’d come get you.” His hand found her cheek. Ray had always wanted to touch her without his gloves, but he had been too cowardly to let her see his chewed-up nails. Prideful satisfaction welled up in Unknown’s chest. Now he would be the only one to enjoy his Princess’s warmth.

Her fingers grasped his hands, but soon her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at his black nail polish, and then up at his face. Adoration transformed into fear.

“What’s the matter, Sweetie?” Unknown cooed with a mocking pout. “Don’t you know that I’m the angel who will lead you back to Paradise~?” He burst into high pitched, hysterical laughter. No point in holding back any longer. He grabbed her before she could escape and dragged her back to the car.

Ignoring her pleas, he lifted her into the passenger seat. “Safety first~” He sang, before buckling her. She would never leave his sight again.

Unknown slammed the door and rushed to the driver’s side. He ripped off Ray’s suit coat before snatching up an oversized leather jacket from the backseat. Slipping it on felt so liberating. He let it slide off one shoulder. “Like my new look~?”

Instead of answering, she unbuckled herself and threw open the door. Unknown rolled his eyes, but grinned. How exciting. He sprinted after her, and caught her, covering her mouth when she screamed and flailed.

This time, he put her in the back seat, and crawled in after her, clicking his tongue. “No wonder Ray couldn’t handle you.” He shook his head, and with a cheerful smile, pinned her wrists. The way she stared sent heat waves throughout his insides. It wasn’t hatred or disgust in her wide eyes, but something else.

“What are you thinking about?” He caressed her cheek, delighted at the way she blissfully closed her eyes. “Oh, you must like me more than you’re letting on.” He leaned closer only letting his lips hover over hers. “You know,” he began, a low rumble of a growl escaping his throat. “That marshmallow wanted to kiss you so bad, but he was too much of a wimp to do anything about it. Now I’m thinking you wanted to kiss him too.”

She didn’t argue, however she needed encouragement. “Don’t be shy~” He leaned closer and closer…

Until her lips captured his.

Unknown’s eyes widened as shockwaves rushed throughout his body. He smirked against her lips before returning the kiss with pure passion. Ray’s desires, memories, and fantasies were like a distant dream to Unknown, but now he wanted to make it a reality. He wanted to claim these feelings as his own and continue from where Ray had left off.

The Princess was his.

He could kiss her forever, but unfortunately, needed to breathe. Panting, he pulled away and stared into those deep, beautiful eyes of hers. The way she looked at him… was it because of Ray? He almost didn’t care. Almost. “I want you.” His voice lowered and he kissed at her neck. “But first,” he let his lips buzz against her soft skin. “I’ll need to go destroy those traitors and take you back to Savior.”

“No, don’t!” She pulled away and grabbed his shirt. “Don’t hurt anyone!”

His jaw twitched. Why was she being like this? Didn’t she like him? Unknown clenched his teeth and his grip on her tightened. “So you really did want to run away with V and leave us forever.”

“N-no!” She shook her head. “I wanted Ray to come with us. That place isn’t good for him. All he does is slave away in front of the computer. He doesn’t sleep enough, or have friends. No one should live like that.” Her voice cracked.

“Yeah well, what about me?” Unknown countered, scowl deepening. His head pounded when a familiar fire burned through his chest. “I’m right here in front of you, but all you’re doing is thinking about Ray! Focus on me!” His voice grew louder with each agitated word.

“How can I focus on you when I don’t even know your real name?”

Unknown recoiled. His real name. What was his real name? He certainly wasn’t Ray, and while Saeran felt more natural, there was something about it that ticked him off. It made him feel fake.

“All you’ve done since we met is threaten me and-“

Unknown pressed his hand against her mouth, muffling her words. “Just listen. No talking.” He averted his gaze. “I… I still don’t get who I am.” His voice softened and he huffed. “I’ve only been awake a few times, and I still don’t get how it happens. But I know one thing… I’ve been so freaking mad from the very beginning. I want to crush everything I see. I can’t control myself. Before I came for you, I broke every single flower pot Ray was tending!” He snickered at the delightful image of the crushed orange shards and trampled petals. “It felt so good crushing those frail little roots!”

His stomach lurched when his twisted words and actions sank in.

“What am I?” he whispered. And what was this feeling? His throat blazed, and his chest ached. How annoying. He hated this so much. “Why did I wake up so suddenly?” He dared a look at her. “Did I wake up for vengeance?”

These were the same questions he asked Savior every time he woke up. Her answer was always the same.

Don’t worry about that now. Go back to sleep. You’ll know when the time comes.

Always with that same calm voice and small smile. She stared right through him. Always waiting until Ray returned.

Be careful, Ray. Don’t let Saeran take over.

He still wasn’t sure if that last part was just a dream. Did Savior not like him? He was better than Ray so why-?

“Revenge isn’t the answer.” The Princess’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey!” Unknown scowled. “I told you not to talk-“ He flinched when her hand caressed his left cheek. Something about her touch took off of the edge.

“Can’t you see that you and Ray are miserable?” Her words tumbled out with a desperate urgency. “But if you leave, you can find your real purpose.” Her eyes sparked with hope. “You both can be happy.”

He reached for her mouth once again, but hesitated. “If you want me to go with those traitors, then sorry, not happening. Your precious Ray wouldn’t want that either.”

She didn’t respond. Unknown should have been happy with stumping her, but the way she looked at him made his stomach ache. Her sorrowful eyes stared directly at him. She didn’t look through him, or search for Ray. She cared. She was the only person that cared. Savior wanted Ray, and the traitors tossed him aside the first chance they had, but the woman in front of him was different.

She wouldn’t go back to Magenta, and he refused to join the RFA. But he wanted her. He needed her.

“Then let’s run away together.” He snatched up her hands.

“What?” She stiffened. “B-but where would we- I don’t-“

No, he wouldn’t let her go. “You promised Ray you wouldn’t abandon him. He’s still here, you know. You care about him, don’t you?”

“I do!” Her face became serious. “I lo-“

He squeezed her hands. “Then come with me. I’ll be good to you. We’ll be good to you.” He once again leaned closer, letting his lips linger near hers.

There was a pause where Unknown heard only his pounding heart and the chirping crickets outside. Then she kissed him. That was her answer.

Ray wanted to be the angel who would lead their Princess to Paradise, while Unknown was determined to be the demon that would drag her back. Maybe he still was a demon. Deceiving her with the promises of an angel. Was it deception? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much longer he would be awake, or if Ray would ever come back, but he didn’t mind. As long as he had her, he would gladly face the unknown.

 Bad Ending?

Here’s my short story I did for Unknown Zine. I based it off the Unknown phonecalls in V’s route. They’re honestly my favorite part of another story. I hope you enjoyed <3

[kenzieam]

Destroyed - Chapter Four     (Chris X Raen)

Rating: M - ***TRIGGER WARNINGS***

Warnings: Violence, language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse and rape

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@iammarylastar​​​​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​​​​ @jewels2876​​​​​​ @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​ @badassbaker​​​​​​ @everythingisoverrated​​​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​ @oliviastan17​​​​​ @igothroughphasesalot​​​ @sashli​​

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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The days wore on, turning into weeks.

Although he wanted to be there every day, Chris forced himself to limit his trips to The Bend to only a couple times a week; sometimes for lunch, sometimes for drinks after dark. He’d learned that Raen often worked both shifts, but he refrained from learning her schedule beyond that, that was just too creepy and stalkerish;  but he held his breath ever day that he journeyed to the bar, hoping that when he entered, he’d see the woman who’d become as necessary to him as oxygen.

To his relief, Raen didn’t avoid him; she treated him as a regular customer, albeit with reddened cheeks and lowered eyes, mumbling her responses while she spoke clearly to everyone else; but her manner with others, as Chris observed, thanks to his former training, was formal and somewhat empty. She kept herself closed and untouched, smiling and laughing politely but never engaging more than skin-deep. With Chris there was more, despite her obvious hesitance.

She looked for him, and while she seemed to become more nervous when he was in the bar, she seemed more settled as well, as if Chris stirred feelings in her that made her antsy because they touched deeper inside her and made her feel safer at the same time, perhaps even without her realizing it.

He made sure to remain unfailing gentlemanlike; it was obvious that she was skittish, had been abused in the past and Chris would have to earn her trust, and rightfully so, before attempting to move any relationship they might one day have any further. It was hard for him though, she called to him like a flame draws a moth and his heart ached to see the pain and fear in her eyes. He would find and kill the man who’d put that there, make the bastard pay for daring to hurt such a precious treasure.

“The usual?” Raen asked quietly, appearing at Chris’ table. She already held the coffee pot, biting her bottom lip shyly.

“Yes please, Raen.” Chris felt himself relax, his body taking a proverbial deep breath of relief. “How are you today?” He watched her fill his coffee cup, noted the delicate polish on her nails, it looked good on her and he hoped it meant she was trying to spoil, to pamper herself.

You deserve everything good, baby.

“Fine, thanks.” She paused, as if gathering the courage and Chris’ fist tightened under the table; the effort he expended every single time she looked vulnerable like this, to not drop everything and draw her to him, hold her until that dread melted away, was herculean. And it was growing more difficult all the time.

Never, he vowed, and not for the first time, will I ever make you feel like that baby, I promise.

“How are you?” There was honest inquiry in her tone, this wasn’t just the dance of customer and waitress, empty answers demanded by decorum.

“I’m good. Better now that I’ve seen you.” There was no point beating around that bush, Chris knew his face lit up every time he saw her; if she’d been involved with Silas’ gang Chris would have blown his cover almost immediately.

Her cheeks darkened, lashes fluttering in a way that made Chris’ heart race. Jesus Christ, he had it bad. “That’s quite the line, Mr. King. Does it ever work?”

His pulse sped up even more at the faint teasing in her tone. “It’s not a line, it’s the truth. And does it?”

Tomato red now, Raen looked away and when she turned back, she’d replaced some of her walls. “What can I get you?”

The walls hurt and Chris swallowed uneasily, but when he glanced back up at Raen he saw her small smile, one just for him; the walls weren’t personal, he realized, just a habitual response. Still, he proceeded carefully.

“Is Wayne back there?” He asked, referring to one of The Bend’s regular cooks.

“No, it’s Pete today.”

Chris exhaled in relief, while Wayne was hella good with burgers, for some reason the man completely fell apart when it came to anything else and Chris was definitely in the mood for a good Club. “Turkey Club please, on brown.”

“Salad or fries?”

“If I say fries, will you share with me?”

Raen smiled, a fond look in her eyes that surprised Chris. “Do you ever let up?” Her teasing tone made his heart sing.

“Can’t help it with you.” Again, there was no use denying it.

Raen glanced back at the kitchen, then down at the watch on her wrist. “I might have a few minutes to spare.” Her tone was lighter now and she flicked her gaze back to Chris, who couldn’t stop a lopsided grin.

“I’ll save you some.” Chris replied, no pressure Raen, come to me when you want.

Raen glided away, eyes lowered shyly again, and Chris exhaled raggedly. He’d never had to work so hard to get a woman’s attention before, but it had never been more worth it. What he’d felt for Erin was like a perversion compared to this; he’d never experienced such a strong tie, without any physical contact either. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive the inferno this woman stirred in him if he was ever allowed to touch her.

He glanced around the bar, nodding at friends and customers, acquaintances and neighbors. There never been a sense of community or family in his life before, certainly not in the sprawling miasma of Los Angeles, not even in a twisted way with Silas’ gang.

“Here you go.” Her musical voice was back; a breath of her intoxicating perfume, mixed in with her natural scent, stirred fresh want in his chest. She set a plate in front of him piled high with crispy fries and a decent looking sandwich and he looked up to find Raen’s eyes before she left him again.

Chris gestured with his chin to the opposite side of the table. “Got those few minutes?”

Raen blushed again, then caught the eye of the other waitress, nodding to let her know she was taking a short break. She slid into the booth with a sigh, smiling bashfully. Grinning delightedly, feeling like he was five years old and it was Christmas morning in the dreams where he’d had Christmas mornings, Chris pushed the plate closer to her, nudging the ketchup bottle over as well.

“Dig in, doll.”

Raen’s reddened cheeks were matched only by Chris’, once he realized what he’d said but she saved him by smiling and reaching for a fry, dunking it delicately in the gravy.

“Yeah,” he continued, striving for a normal tone, feeling like that teenager again. “I like the gravy better too.”

Raen’s answering shy smile lit all kinds of fire in his heart.

She was only able to sit for a few minutes, and Chris felt a real pang of disappointment when she delicately wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and stood.

“I need to get back.”

“Sit with me tomorrow?” Chris winced at the hopeful tone in his voice, if Raen had any sort of mean bone in her body, she’d have an opening right now to hurt him.

“What makes you think I’ll be here tomorrow?” Her tone was light, even playful and Chris’ poor heart was sent galloping afresh.

“A guy can dream, doll.”

“Guess you’ll find out, Mr. King.” She replied, biting her bottom lip then her shyness flooded back in and she hurried away, taking Chris’ heart with her. He loved the way she called him ‘Mr. King’, not out of any patriarchal kick, but because it was special, her private name just for him, an edge of teasing and sliver of attraction softening the formal address.

Chris was on pins and needles all night, pacing his living room before collapsing into a chair out on his apartment’s small balcony and lighting a joint; a fraught hopefulness having seeped right down into his bones. He felt like a giddy teenager; Christ, like a man in love, and a sudden wave of dread crashed over him with the realization. Was he falling right down the same old rabbit hole as he had with Erin? Was he goose-stepping merrily into another trap?

No. He pushed the thoughts aside. Raen isn’t Erin.

Screaming agony tore him awake later. He’d gone to sleep with gentle musings of Raen, her drop-dead gorgeous curves his to finally touch and caress and mold his body around. Bolts of fiery pain shot through his torso, grotesque mimics of the bullets that had ripped through him, rending him from sleep and a scream of anguish poured from his lips; he could feel the blood coursing from his wounds with each desperate pound of his heart, feel the rough, stained carpet beneath his sweat-slicked face. He clawed at his chest, gasping for breath, his bare legs tangling in the sheets before his naked body tumbled from the bed to crash onto the floor, jolting what was left of his breath from his lungs. He lay trembling and panting, fingers clawing uselessly and he was sure he was dying, certain he was back on the floor of that bank, fooled into giving his life for nothing; Silas towering over him, ready to fire the kill shot.

“Nnnnooo.” He managed to wheeze, tears squeezing out from his lids and for a moment everything seemed to end, oblivion seemed to take him down into the Black then he pulled one last scream from his locked-down chest, shattering the nightmare. He convulsed, limbs slamming against the floor and lay winded and wasted, unable to even lift his head for long, terrifying minutes.

Finally, he dragged himself up off the floor, hands shaking as he pulled himself back into the bed and lay curled in the fetal position, trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time his nightmares had been so vivid, so real and it terrified him. What had provoked this?

Was it…?

No. It couldn’t be…

Raen?

Was his mind trying to warn him away from another fatal mistake? Would it truly be the end…?  Would he die this time? It was ridiculous to even contemplate but here, in the stark dark, his body still aching from the nightmare, it became oh so plausible.

What was he thinking? He’d survived once, he’d be a fool to give up his heart again. He was doing the same thing he’d done with Erin, giving up all semblance of himself and tempting that bitch named Fate as he plunged headlong into the spell of another woman.

He lay awake for the rest of the night, shivering, afraid to close his eyes. Work was a chore and, come lunchtime, he glanced at the clock then away. He couldn’t go back to The Bend; he couldn’t continue this. He needed to guard his own heart.

It was the right thing to do. He had to protect himself.

But Jesus God, why did it hurt so bad?

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Raen chanced a glance at her watch, then scanned the bar. Chris was nowhere to be found, again. It had been a week since he’d asked her to sit with him. Even though he’d looked at her with such softness and excitement at the prospect of seeing her the next day, he’d never shown up. Despite herself, Raen felt a tear trickle down her cheek, which she wiped away angrily.

Like sand, he’d begun to seep through the cracks in her walls; like water gradually eroding away stone, he’d started to wear his way past her barriers.

And then he’d disappeared.

What a fool she’d been. She’d just been lucky she’d escaped without literally bleeding this time. Men were all the same, some played with your body, others your heart, but they all left you broken.

Never again.

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He couldn’t do it any longer.

He’d stayed away from her for a week, but he physically couldn’t anymore. He needed Raen, she’d become essential to his heart and soul and that certainty wore implacably away at the conviction that he would be destroyed by giving them away again. Surely they couldn’t ache any worse than the anguish he felt now.

His palms were sweating as he parked his bike in the Bend’s lot and he rubbed them down his jean-covered thighs, swallowing nervously. What would his reception be? He’d been making inroads with Raen, and then he’d left. It was a shitty thing to do, but in the end, the draw was too strong. If loving Raen meant his destruction, then he was going down in flames.

It had been a week of loneliness, a week of sleepless nights, of tossing and turning and startling awake from restless dozes with a jolt of heart-pounding panic, nightmares twisting his mind into an exhausted miasma of misery. His body was leaden, weighted down with guilt and shame and just plain lonesomeness.

Even Al had noticed, real concern in his aged eyes as he watched Chris work, probed in his typical roundabout way what his problem was but Chris hadn’t been able to voice it. How did you explain something like this? As time wore on his reasons for staying away from Raen grew weaker and weaker in his miserable eyes, made less sense.

Raen was nothing like Erin, where his old partner had held a deep simmering rage at her childhood, at the hand dealt to her, Raen was pure sweetness, her past experiences only making her kinder and more compassionate. Like the analogy Chris had heard once, one that had resonated with him and made him wonder what he was deep inside, Erin was like an egg, tempered and boiled by the heat of her past into someone hard and unchangeable inside, while Raen was like a tea bag, her natural goodness and sweetness coloring her surroundings, improving everything around her.

It was late, after dark and the throbbing music from the juke spilled out as he opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the surroundings. Like the moth he was, his eyes were drawn immediately to her flame, currently standing at the bar loading up her tray for another waitressing round; her body was his kryptonite, did she realize how goddamn good she looked in those fitted jeans? Steeling himself, he approached, leaning casually against the counter to hide the shaking in his hands.

Had he wrecked what could have been the best thing he’d ever had, before he’d even really had it?

“Hey,” he offered quietly, searching to find her eyes when she turned to face him. What he saw, shock quickly eclipsed by hurt and anger, deepened his anxiety.

“What are you doing here?” That empty tone was back, the wall and that hurt worse than any emotion she could have infused her voice with. Emotion meant there was still a chance, emptiness meant there wasn’t.

“Raen, I’m sorry-“

“I have to work, excuse me.” She pushed past him with a loaded tray and his heart began to thump with dread. The bartender, a friend of one of his former booty calls eyed him with derision.

“She waited for you, asshole.” She spat before turning and storming to the other end.

Chris turned, feeling more scared and more hopeless than he had in his darkest moments with Erin, when Arturo was pacing the shabby living room, holding the handgun and goaded into playing roulette, in those endless moments after the gunshots. Her back was to him, shapely hips mocking him as they swayed. Her smile was soft, her lilac-grey eyes almost serene as she spoke to patrons and passed around their orders.

She wasn’t comfortable among strangers, not yet, but she had learned to disguise it and you’d have to be stone sober to notice the distance in her manner. He waited until her tray was empty and she was on her way back to the bar before trying again.

“Raen, please. Can I just-“

“What do you want, Chris?” He was ‘Mr. King’ no longer, her private name for him gone.

“I need to talk to you.” His hand reached out in desperation and gripped her forearm, pulling her away from the main area.

A flash of real fear, hurting his heart, then anger again. “Leave me alone.” She hissed, ripping her arm away.

“Baby, please!” Desperation made his voice crack, then pain exploded in his cheek and he staggered, eyes wide with shock.

Raen glared fiercely, her hand still raised from slapping him. Slowly, she pointed her finger at him with heartbreaking finality. “Do not call me that. You never came back, remember? I owe you nothing.”

Cold grief wrapped icy fingers around his heart as she turned and stormed away.

He didn’t leave, his body wouldn’t obey his commands. The furthest he made was the far end of the bar, the opposite end from where Raen was working and, although he knew Raen wouldn’t send a glance his way, he watched her all the same, cursing himself for his stupidity.

A cold panic had suffused his limbs, he wanted to grab Raen’s arms and shake her, force her to listen to him, to give him another chance, but that meant that he was a bastard, no better than the man she’d ran from before. He’d fucked up, he was the one to pay for it.

Jesus God, it hurt. His heaven was steps away and he couldn’t reach her. He might as well be on Mars.

A dead feeling was spreading through his body. To walk away from Raen tonight was going to cleave him in half, but what choice did he have?

Throwing down some bills to cover his beer, he steeled himself to leave, to walk away from the best thing he’d never had when a crashing sound hit his ears. He whirled, eyes scanning the bar with practiced skill, his F.B.I. training making a reluctant comeback. He reached for his sidearm, remembered he no longer carried one.

A fight was breaking out in a corner, two men pushing each other, their voices raising in drunken indignation and rage. A glass had already been knocked to the floor, alerting Chris, but it was the men’s physical altercation that was starting to get everyone else’s attention. Chris sized up the situation, not seeing any immediate weapons, but who knew if either man was hiding something? Shit, a broken bottle would be enough and these two looked like the violent type.

Then his eyes found her.

Raen. Trapped in the corner, eyes wide.

Somehow, she’d been on the wrong side of the table when these two had started in on each other, and was now stuck, her back to the wall, two brawling men blocking her escape.

Terror and rage like he’d never felt before filled him and Chris didn’t remember his trip across the bar, his tunnel vision only for Raen, he could be rushing into the path of another bullet for all he knew, and it didn’t matter in the slightest, all he could see was Raen, pressed to the wall, eyes wide with fear, searching for escape. Her eyes met his and if he hadn’t been so blinded by the need to save her, he would have seen the relief in her lilac-grey depths.

She reached for him as he barreled through the brawling men without stopping, elbowing the brutes aside and receiving a glancing fist to the jaw as he went and then she was in his arms and he pressed her back into the corner, shielding her from the fight with his body, glancing back over his shoulder before dropping his head to murmur soothingly to her.

“Chris,” she gasped, voice shaking. Her fingers clawed into his flesh as she shook and if he hadn’t been so intent on comforting her, he would have whirled in a rage and attacked the two bastards who’d made her so scared.

“I’m here, baby.” He breathed, curling around her, ready for the blows to come as he sheltered her but they never did and, as he turned to glance back again, he saw the other patrons and the bouncer had finally kicked into action, dragging and pulling at both combatants, hauling their thrashing asses out the front door.

Only then did he relax his hold enough to step back, his hands staying on her shoulders, unwilling to let go.

“Baby, are you okay?” He scanned her frantically, his hand leaving her shoulder only to cup her cheek and his heart lurched as his eyes landed on blood. “Christ, doll.” He pulled at her, drawing her into better light, his heart thudding with fear.

He tilted her head, gripping her chin, eyes running over her skin and he reached over, grabbing a napkin from a nearby table, dabbing gently at her cheek. His thundering heart eased as he saw the damage, not nearly so grave as he’d feared. Three small dots, tiny bits of broken glass embedded in them and glinting in the light marred her smooth cheekbone and more glass fragments shimmered in her hair that he brushed gingerly away before taking her hand and drawing her down the hallway, to the owner’s office past the bathrooms.

Without knocking he burst through the door, startling the man sleeping in his chair inside.

“Goddammit, Chris!” He swore, jerking awake, nearly falling off.

“Goddamn you, Gus!” Chris yelled back. He reached for the first aid kit perched on the file cabinet and gently sat Raen down on an empty chair before wrenching it open and continuing his lecture. “There’s a goddamn fight out there and you’re in here sleeping! And Raen got fucking hurt!” He broke off and turned his full attention back to Raen, who stared at him with a mix of trepidation and reverence. Gently, his hand shaking slightly, he sponged away the blood with a square of gauze then pulled out the tweezers. Raen’s eyes fell on them and widened, then looked back up at Chris trustingly.

“I’ll be gentle, baby.” He murmured.

Gus had shuffled outside by now and Chris pulled away from Raen long enough to kick the door shut behind him. As he reached to extract the slivers of glass her hand grasped his wrist, stopping him.

“Chris, I-“

“Damn, doll. When I saw you trapped back there, my heart-“ he flinched, pausing in his task long enough to cup her undamaged cheek. After a beat, he tipped his head forwards, resting his forehead to hers, relaxing when she didn’t push him away.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Anything for you.” He vowed, pulling away reluctantly. Raen followed his movements then closed her eyes as he began to extract the slivers. She remained still, not wincing, but then, she’d experienced worse.

Gus returned just as Chris had placed the last steri-strip and was wiping the remainder of blood off her skin.

“Goddamn Buddy Perkins.” He wheezed. “I told that bastard no more fights. He’s banned now and good riddance.” Focusing on Raen, his tone softened. Gus may have been a lazy old bastard, but he cared for his girls. “You okay, hon?”

“Just some scratches.” She replied quietly.

“Take the night off. Hell, take the rest of the week, I’ll still pay you.” He turned his attention to Chris. “You’ll make sure she gets home okay?” At Chris’ nod he looked back at Raen. “That okay, honey? Can Chris take you home?”

“That’s fine.” She was still quiet, but her hand hadn’t left Chris’, her fingers clasping his tightly.

Gus shuffled and wheezed his way back out, his voice thundering once more, shutting down the bar for the night because ‘you miserable sumbitches can’t behave!’ and Chris looked back at Raen, squeezing her hand, a hint of nervousness accelerating his heart now that he no longer feared for her immediate safety.

“You’re sure? I can take you home?” Chris murmured, too far gone to be embarrassed by the pitiful hope in his voice.

Raen sighed quietly. “Why didn’t you come back? I waited for you.”

Chris exhaled slowly. He would tell her, but not here. “Can I talk to you at your place? It’s kind of a long story.”

Raen looked up, meeting his eyes and studying him carefully. He held his breath in trepidation, trying to convey his utter sincerity through his eyes. She sighed, seeming to come to a decision. “Okay… there’s some things about me you should know too.”

“Only if you want to.” Chris murmured back, standing to his full height and pulling her gently to hers. He hovered protectively behind her as she gathered her things from the staff room and took the keys she held out when they reached the parking lot.

“What about your truck?” Raen asked, concerned as she searched the lot.

“I brought my bike; no one’ll take it. I need to work on it and its hard to start right now.”

“Thieves can’t steal what they can’t get running, Raeny baby, mind your daddy.” She suddenly said, glancing over at Chris with reddening cheeks.

“What does that mean?” He asked as he helped her climb into the passenger side.

“Just something my daddy taught me… it saved my life a while ago.”

Chris searched her face, trying to quell the sudden instinct to crush her to him and kiss away her sorrow but he needed to take her home, he needed to explain himself and maybe then… maybe he’d be lucky enough to have another chance with her. Contenting himself with reaching out and covering her hand for a heartbeat, he sighed and started the truck, threw it into drive and left the parking lot.

[jennycalendar]

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (22/42)

read it on ao3!

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT WE HAVE AN END NUMBER???????? CRAZY??????????? anyway i haven’t decided on an update schedule; am thinking i’m gonna do it every other day a la it’s a family affair because i’m impatient and it’s summer.

warning for some violence (as in a gun is shot this chapter)

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

…nvoi;awhfdon;vb lkasf;owahraobvj c mn,asdlfhl2? hsldk;fhslvnabdk sbioa;iew vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv (continues for 17 pages)

“Did you fall asleep on your keyboard?” Cordelia sounded wildly amused by this. Gently, she tugged a barely-awake Jenny away from the computer, carefully shutting the laptop lid. “C’mon, sleepy. Gala’s in three hours and we’ve got a whole lot of prep to do.”

“Ugh,” said Jenny, who didn’t really want to be awake.

“Ugh all you want,” said Cordelia unsympathetically, “doesn’t change the fact that your makeup needs a lot of touching up when you fall asleep on your computer, not to mention your hair—” She sat Jenny down in front of an antique vanity by the window and undid the sloppy twist holding Jenny’s hair away from her face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have plenty of practice untangling Fred’s hair. Sometimes I gel Angel’s, too, when he’s not being a big baby about it.” She took out a fine-toothed comb and began to work carefully at the tangles.

All of a sudden, Jenny was thinking about Rupert, and the gentle, deliberate way he combed out her hair, and how horrible she’d been to him when she called him that night. Maybe it wasn’t just her prioritization of the job that had had him so upset. Maybe whatever it was that was wrong between them was something that couldn’t be fixed by catching Glorificus. Maybe—

“You’re brooding,” said Cordelia. “Why?”

Jenny sighed. “I made an impulse decision last night,” she said, “and—and maybe a detective with a new girlfriend can afford to do that, but someone with a family can’t just pack up and run away when the going gets tough.”

Cordelia considered this, then said, “You know, Angel ran off last year and slept with Darla. There was a bunch of, um, stuff going on in his life,” here she blushed in a strange way that seemed to signify she might have been involved in some of that stuff, “and Wolfram and Hart had brought her back into the country just to screw around with his head, and he just ditched us and slept with her and spent the next month or so hiding from us because he felt so bad about it. But he came back.”

“Okay,” said Jenny, not sure how this was supposed to help.

“My point,” said Cordelia, tapping Jenny’s shoulder so that she could get to the tangled mess of hair at the base of her neck, “is that—there really isn’t any family in it with people who don’t make dumb mistakes, you know? Family is about people who choose to stick together even through the messy parts. And honestly, it seems like right now, you’ve hit a messy part in a family you’ve made yourself. Which is scary, ‘cause you don’t have blood to fall back on as a reason for being together—”

“Great pep talk,” said Jenny somewhat sourly.

“I’m not done,” said Cordelia, her voice softening. “Look, I saw the way Giles looks at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. Maybe you’re not ready to figure out what’s going on between the two of you, but I think you know that whatever you guys have isn’t something that’s gonna be thrown away over one argument.”

“It was a really awful argument,” said Jenny.

Cordelia ran the comb through Jenny’s hair one last time, then stood up, crossing the room to pick up the dress from where Jenny had carefully set it down on the dresser. “Angel went off and slept with Darla,” she said, “and this was almost right after he and I kissed for the first time. So I’m kinda freaking as is, and then he disappears for a month, and when he comes back he opens with ‘guess what? I slept with Darla!’ Like, he said it in an Angel way, but still. Got the message across.” She smiled a little, then, handing the dress very carefully to Jenny. “We’ve been dating since March of last year,” she said. “He got me a bunch of flowers last week and I made him a really bad dinner. I’m kinda crazy about him. And I think what I’m trying to tell you is that even the worst set of circumstances ever isn’t gonna shake up a relationship built on mutual trust and respect.”

Jenny smiled a little. “Okay,” she said. “That’s not too bad of a pep talk.”

“Yeah, I was building it up.” Cordelia leaned down to amicably ruffle Jenny’s hair. “I’m gonna go change in the bathroom, okay? Let me know when you’re changed and I’ll come out and do your makeup—maybe curl your hair a little around the edges so it can be all fancy.” She turned, picking up a slightly crumpled dark green dress from the floor, and headed into the bathroom.

Jenny stood up and took a look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was soft and very nicely combed (thanks, Cordelia), she didn’t look quite as miserable or sleep-deprived as she’d felt the day before, and—Cordelia was right. Three years of love and trust didn’t vanish with one huge argument, and Jenny knew Rupert well enough to know that he was probably just as hurt as she was by the way that conversation had gone. She was good at being happy around him—she was just going to have to learn how to become just as good at making amends.

She pulled the dress carefully over her head, then twirled in the mirror, watching the long skirt flare out. Compulsively, she smoothed down her hair, trying to look like someone part of a covert investigation. Detectives usually looked perfectly polished, didn’t they? Unreadable. Poised. Like Lilah.

Belatedly, she realized that this was the first time since waking up that Lilah had crossed her mind.

“Hey, you ready yet?” Cordelia called from the bathroom.

Jenny swallowed, smiled, then said, “Yeah.”

The gala was abuzz with activity when they entered, couples waltzing to the music and eating at tables set up in the Hyperion’s lavish ballroom. They slipped in largely unnoticed with a group of high-society fashion designers, at which point Wesley set up a hidden camera by the buffet table, Angel started a very awkward conversation with one of the waiters to gather intel, and Cordelia made a beeline for a nervous-looking Fred.

Jenny had had no idea that Fred’s investigative work had landed her with Angel and his crew, and definitely hadn’t expected to see her here of all places. She debated following, realized that that meant she would have to answer questions about why Rupert wasn’t working with her, decided she didn’t want to have that conversation, and settled for standing with Angel as he continued to struggle through the basics of social interaction. Why anyone would date this man, let alone frame Rupert as a revenge act to get him back, she was having trouble figuring out.

“Yeah, ‘cause—you work here,” Angel was saying, in a way that somehow managed to be both grave and uncomfortable. “Here in this place. Where you might have seen—”

“What my friend is trying to say,” said Jenny, attempting to mimic the cool, confident tone Lilah had used when entering her office, “is that he and I are both looking for a friend of ours who might be attending this gala. Does the name Glorificus ring any bells to you?”

“What she said,” said Angel somewhat helplessly.

The waiter gave them both a somewhat bemused look, then answered, “I don’t know about Glorificus, but a lady named Glory did slip one of my friends twenty bucks to save her a seat at one of those fancy tables. She’s not due down for another ten minutes, though.”

“Thank you so much,” said Jenny brightly, taking Angel’s arm and steering him towards the buffet table. “What was that?” she asked, trying her hardest not to laugh.

Angel shot her an injured look. “Cordelia was supposed to do the sweet-talking,” he said. “That’s why she’s over there checking in with Fred. I just wanted to—you know. Help out a little extra.”

He really was sweet, even if it was in a hapless-puppy sort of way. Jenny patted Angel’s arm and let go. “Well, you tried,” she said, and badly swallowed a giggle as Angel rolled his eyes. “So what do we do for the next ten minutes?”

“Mingle, I guess,” said Angel, sounding like he’d rather do anything but.

“Sounds fun,” said Jenny, and snagged a glass of champagne from another passing waiter, taking a long sip. To Angel, she added, “Do I look sophisticated?”

“Very,” said Rupert quietly.

Jenny, shocked, jerked her arm up, splashing the contents of her glass in Angel’s face. Angel stumbled backwards into the wall, mopping at his face with the sleeve of his rental tux and muttering about how people with unresolved issues shouldn’t always go to him all the time and why couldn’t he just stay dry at parties.

“Um,” said Rupert, and took Jenny’s hand in his, tugging gently until she was all the way in his arms. Jenny’s heart was hammering in her chest as he smoothly spun her onto the dance floor, leading her perfectly in time with the music. It was odd, juxtaposed with the nervous way he was looking at her.

“How did you—” she began.

“Wolfram and Hart knows that Angel Investigations is going after Glorificus,” said Rupert quietly. “Lilah didn’t exactly specify how they know, but from that I rather suspected you might be helping them.”

“Wolfram and Hart—”

“Lilah and I are here to warn them,” Rupert explained awkwardly, “and—and to apologize to you, after. Lilah said she’d handle the first bit if I could handle the second—something about me, um, knowing you—for longer.”

Jenny sniffled, then swallowed, only distantly noticing the way she’d wound an arm around Rupert’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Rupert looked utterly bemused. “What on earth do you have to be sorry for?” he asked. “I was the one who—”

Jenny shook her head. “No, I—you were right,” she said. “I’ve been unreliable and flighty and I started saying ridiculous stuff about you being my associatejust so I could feel better about the way I treated you. You’re not—you’re more than family to—you’re everything to me, Rupert,” and all of a sudden she wanted to snatch her words out of the air and take them back.

Rupert very abruptly stopped leading them in a waltz. “Everything?” he said shakily. His hand, which had been resting innocuously on Jenny’s waist, skimmed her shoulder and her neck to brush its thumb almost unconsciously against her cheek.

Jenny couldn’t say anything. Something was beginning to finally piece itself together in her brain, something that she should have figured out long ago. Why she hated it when Rupert hung up first, why she didn’t like that things were changing, why she’d ever so secretly looked for signs that Rupert was reacting badly to the first person Jenny had actively pursued—

Rupert’s hand tucked a strand of hair very quietly behind her ear.

Jenny’s eyes flitted to his mouth, lips parted.

It was a flurry of movement behind Rupert that shattered the moment, bringing Jenny back into herself. Angel was being toweled off by a wildly amused Cordelia, who was gesticulating playfully as she teased him.

“Jenny,” said Rupert. “Jenny?”

Jenny pulled back, staring up at him, and ran.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar (hypothetical draft for when she’s typing one tonight, probably):

fuck fuck motherfucking fuck how did i not figure out all these years that i’ve been in love with him the whole fucking time?

Jenny didn’t really think the whole running thing through. She knew Rupert was going to come after her, and she knew at some point she was going to have to figure out what exactly being in love with Rupert would do to their personal relationship, to their agency, to Lilah, to the kids, to every single person involved in their life. Everything she’d built around her had hinged on the stable constancy of her not knowing that she was in love with Rupert, and now that she knew—god, the way she felt about him was too deep and too painful to just sweep under the rug for both of their sakes.

And maybe he was in love with her too, but—what would that do? How would they even work as a couple? Jenny hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, hadn’t willingly let herself fall in love. She’d been a programmer thinking only about learning as much as she could, and then she’d been a private detective focused on helping other people, and then she’d been a single mom. There had never been any time for thinking about sharing her life with someone in the sweepingly romantic sense—she didn’t even really think she was built for those types of feelings.

She only became aware of her surroundings when she became short of breath, at which point she took the nearest exit out of the maze of hallways and found herself in a back alley. Somehow, she’d ended up right where food deliveries were made to the hotel—blessedly empty, now, with the party in full swing. Gasping, Jenny slumped against the wall, then buried her face in her hands.

The sound of high heels echoed in the alley. Slowly, Jenny looked up. Lilah was standing there, expression almost purposefully blank. Strangely, she wasn’t making any sort of effort to come any closer, leaving a distance of about six feet between them. “Lilah,” said Jenny, trying to look like someone who wasn’t a total fucking disaster. “Listen—I’m—I’m sorry. That I’m such a damn mess.”

Lilah just looked at her. There was a strange detachment to the way Lilah was looking at her, one that had all of Jenny’s detective senses on full alert—but Jenny Calendar, the person underneath the years of experience, was too sad and confused to really think about things critically. “Are you okay?” Jenny asked, and sniffled, wiping at her eyes. God, Cordelia really did pick quality makeup—none of her eyeliner had smudged even slightly. “You seemed—pretty drunk, last I saw you.”

Lilah smiled thinly. Then, in a slow, practiced motion, she took a delicate revolver out of her pocket and pointed it at Jenny.

Something shattered and broke in Jenny, in that moment, looking at someone she had let herself trust so completely. She felt as though she was missing something crucial, some puzzle-piece precious bit of information that might explain why Lilah was holding the gun with such steady sureness. “Lilah,” she said. Not pleading, exactly, but—something close to it.

Lilah’s smile quivered, ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

And—

There was a flurry of motion in that one horrifying moment, one that took Jenny and Lilah both aback. Lilah hadn’t known that Jenny was being followed, and Jenny—Jenny hadn’t once guessed that Rupert had been right on her heels, close enough to slip through the alley doors, take stock of the situation, and shove himself in front of Jenny exactly as Lilah pulled the trigger.