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amisarchive · 4 years ago

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we make a long way from easy livin' look good, baby [Geri/Hoyt, Walker 2021]

Geri is thirteen when she first meets Hoyt Rawlins.

He’s loud and over the top – disruptive as the teachers like to say – and she’s not sure she wants to be friends with him. He is fast friends with Cordell though, so by extension, they are also kind of friends whether she likes it or not.

She and Emily spend a lot of time watching the boys, playing football mostly. Hoyt is lanky but he has a killer arm, and he makes QB without even trying. It makes his innate cockiness even worse, in Geri’s opinion, and he has half the cheerleading squad fawning over him before ever playing a full game.

The thing is, she is not immune. He’s charming, disarmingly so, making silly jokes and funny little quips, and she finds herself laughing more times than not. It’s embarrassingly easy for him to worm himself into her life – all of their lives, really – and after a few months, Geri has a hard time remembering their tight little group before Hoyt.

He balances them, the adventurous to Cordell’s careful, the loud to Emily’s quiet, the funny to her serious.

Geri is fourteen when Cordell and Emily become CordellandEmily. Honestly, it was only a matter of time, they all saw it. Still, it throws off their dynamic. Despite their friendship, they are very much still Geri and Hoyt, separate, their own persons with no close ties to each other.

So instead of Cordell&Emily&Geri&Hoyt, they are CordellandEmily, Geri and Hoyt.

It’s different and it takes some time to get used to it. They still hang out, all four of them, and Geri needs a second to get to where it doesn’t feel so weird anymore. She spends considerably more time with Hoyt now; even when they are all together, it’s really just her and Hoyt, with CordellandEmily in their own little bubble.

They bond over mocking their lovesick fools of friends, ribbing them any chance they get. It takes a few months, but they get to a place where they become Geri&Hoyt, friends, with their own shorthand, their own inside jokes.

It doesn’t take long for everyone else to notice, too, and before long, there is no Hoyt without Geri, no Geri without Hoyt. If one of them is invited to a party, the other is, too, if one of them is not going, the other isn’t going either.

Geri is fifteen the first time she notices.

She’s on her way to the library when she literally runs into Hoyt – obviously late for football practice. His frame has filled out some in the last year, his shoulders broader, corded muscle on his arms.

She’s not blind, of course she notices, she sees him often enough. But it’s not what makes her stop in her tracks. His football jersey is riding up high on his shoulder and she can clearly see the handprint in mottled blue and green, marring the skin of his arm. She asks him about it and he just pulls the jersey down and brushes her off with a grin and some lame excuse she doesn’t buy.

It’s a week later that she startles awake in the middle of the night and it takes her a moment to connect the noise that woke her with the knock on her bedroom window. She stumbles out of bed, pushes the window up.

Hoyt looks a mess, with the bloody nose and the black eye, and he tries for a smile but fails miserably. He awkwardly climbs in through the window and for a moment Geri is not sure what to do. He looks smaller, defeated, nothing like the devil-may-care jokester she spends her days with. He sinks down on the edge of her bed and she quietly sneaks into the bathroom down the hall to get a towel.

He’s still on her bed when she returns and she lifts his chin, carefully cleaning the blood from his nose. He winces away when her hand comes too close to the bruised skin at his eye, and she starts to apologize but he just shakes his head sharply. He grips her wrist then and she drops the towel, lets him tug her closer until she’s standing right in front of him. He looks like he’s about to say something, but the words don’t come and he just lets go of her hand with a soft sigh.

She doesn’t ask what’s happened, doesn’t push him for answers, just climbs back into bed, watching his back shake when he draws in a few labored breaths. Honestly, she just doesn’t know what to do, what to say.

It takes another few minutes, but Hoyt eventually toes off his boots and stretches out next to her, on top of the covers.

‘Thank you, Ger.’ The words are quiet, his voice raspy, emotional, and she grasps his hand in response, gives a squeeze and this time, he doesn’t let go.

They wake up in a tangle of limbs, Geri’s head against his chest, one of her legs between his, the cover still between them.

It becomes a thing, Hoyt sneaking in in the middle of the night. She leaves the window unlatched for the nights he needs somewhere to go. Sometimes she’s still up, other times she wakes up in the morning with his weight against her back and an arm slung across her hips.

They don’t talk about it, not with each other and not with Cordell or Emily. It’s their little secret and it brings them even closer together. He’s still loud and over the top but she knows what’s behind the façade now, can see the lonely boy with nowhere to go.

Geri is sixteen when she realizes she’s hopelessly in love. She can’t pinpoint when it starts but somewhere along the line, she catches feelings.

Hoyt’s father and older brother get arrested for burglary and Hoyt moves in with the Walkers for a while. It puts a stop to their sleepovers, there’s nothing for him to run from.

And the thing is, she’s happy for him. But a tiny little selfish part of her still wishes he had a reason to leave, to come sneak into her bedroom at night. She misses having him close, getting to know things no one else knows, little glimpses of the real Hoyt, not the persona.

Still, she settles on just being his friend again, on laughing at his dumb jokes and the occasional shoulder bump. Hoyt doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, and it hurts a little how easily he just seems to go back to normal, without giving it – giving her – a second thought.

It’s so much more of a surprise when a month before prom, he’s suddenly down on one knee in front of her in the middle of the hall, surrounded by everyone, asking her to go to prom with him. She can feel her cheeks heat at his theatrics but he’s also smiling up at her with a smile that’s more Hoyt and less QB1 and so she says yes, ignoring the dirty looks from the cheerleaders having their hopes crushed in a very public way. He rises and pulls her into a hug, and she laughs, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

She’s already half asleep when the knock comes that night. She scrambles out of bed, suddenly acutely aware of the rat’s nest on her head and the ratty old shirt she is wearing, the one with the hole in the shoulder. It’s at least two sizes too big on her but she loves it anyway, a reminder of her brother from before he joined the army and didn’t come back.

The window is still unlatched – a stupid little hope she can’t bring herself to abandon – but he still waits for her to invite him in and her heart does this little fluttery thing again that she still doesn’t quite know where to place. She pushes the window open, and she wants to ask him if everything is alright, but Hoyt grins at her as he folds his long limbs through the narrow window, so she guesses there’s no real emergency here.

‘Hey.’ She can’t stop her hands from reaching down and pulling on the hem of her shirt, so aware of her bare legs and while Hoyt glances down briefly, once his eyes lock with hers, they don’t stray. She can feel her skin flush, the heat creeping up her neck, and it’s ridiculous because it’s just Hoyt.

But she can see it now, the uncertainty in his eyes, the way his grin has vanished, the tension in his shoulders, so much like the boy crawling into her bedroom with a swollen eye and a busted nose. His voice wavers just the slightest bit when he echoes her ‘hey’ and she takes a step closer, reaches for his hand. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, but it feels different tonight, and she knows, right in this instant, that there’s no going back once she crosses that line; the way her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest, with nervousness, with excitement, telling her everything she needs to know. From the way he looks at her, she thinks he feels it, too.

She hopeshe feels it, too, as she presses closer to him, leans up, brings her lips to his before she can think better of it. He freezes for the tiniest second and she’s about to pull away, backpedal and blame it on her sleep-addled mind, when he brings his free hand up to cup her neck, keeping her close and their lips connected. She smiles against his lips and when she presses her body flush against his, the sound that rumbles through his chest makes her shudder.

He pulls away a moment later, runs a hand through his hair with a pained sigh while his other hand remains firmly on her hip, her shirt bunching under his fingers when they flex against her. ‘Fuck, Ger.’

For a second, she thinks this is it, years of friendship ruined, he’s going to tell her this was a mistake and disappear from her life forever. But when she looks up at him, his eyes are wide, filled with wonder, and she bites her lip before taking a step closer again and leaning up for another kiss. He groans into it this time and Geri can feel her heartbeat in her whole body with how fast it’s going. He tastes minty, like the gum he always chews, and it’s so familiar and new at the same time. She’s out of breath by the time she pulls back, and she still can’t quite believe this is happening, her mind racing a million miles a second.

Geri turns seventeen the night before prom. She doesn’t have a party, but they all hang out at the Dairy Queen. Emily is rambling on excitedly about possibly being elected prom queen (like she isn’t sure she’d win, like her and Cordell being crowned queen and king isn’t a foregone conclusion) and she’s only half-listening, swirling the spoon in her melting blizzard, when Hoyt shifts beside her, bringing his mouth to her ear. ‘D’you want to be prom queen, babe? I can make that happen.’

She smiles at his words, and his eyes sparkle with just enough mischief that she believes he could pull that off. But she doesn’t care enough about these kinds of things and Emily does and she’s not petty or mean enough to spoil this for her friend just for kicks. ‘I’m good. Thank you anyway.’

She turns to steal a kiss and across from them Cordell pulls a face. They’re still new enough to elicit this kind of reaction apparently, although Cordell had no qualms making out with Emily in front of them whenever the mood struck. Cordell carefully schools his expression into indifference when Emily elbows him in the side while still chattering on about prom. It’s not the most exciting birthday but she has all her favorite people with her.

The next day, she helps Hoyt spike the punch at prom, the burn of alcohol on her tongue a pleasant distraction from the frilly, grossly romantic, over-the-top production that is their prom. It’s not who she is, it has been enough of a challenge to find a dress she likes that isn’t full on princess and still goes with her boots. So while Emily and Cordell enter the stage to accept their crowns as king and queen, she leans back into Hoyt’s chest, melts into his embrace, his breath warm against her neck.

Geri is eighteen the first time she thinks she might be pregnant. She’s so busy with school and partying and Hoyt, she doesn’t even notice she skipped her period until someone makes a stupid comment about her crabby mood at school. It takes her a while to figure out how it could have even happened – she’s usually so careful about all things birth control, Emily likes to tease her about it. But she eventually remembers. She remembers partying with Cordell and Emily and Hoyt in the Walker ranch’s bunkhouse. She remembers them getting high on subpar weed and drinking more beer than they should, remembers Cordell and Emily slinking off to one of the small bedrooms in the back after rudely making out in the old ratty armchair until Hoyt had none-too-subtly suggested they get a room. Which they did. Which had let to her and Hoyt making out on the couch and things had escalated from there. Hands everywhere, lips everywhere, and her being just buzzed and stupid enough to give in on skipping the condom when Hoyt didn’t have one with him.

Her heart is beating out of her chest with the realization, with how stupid she let herself be, her life flashing in front of her eyes. A crying baby, dirty diapers, a night job to make ends meet, Hoyt doing his best but ultimately disappearing on her. It’s horror scenario after horror scenario and she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stumbles down the hall and into the girls’ bathroom, Emily hot on her heels. ‘Are you okay, Geri?’

She pushes open one of the stalls, bending over with a dry heave. Emily’s hand is gentle on her back, rubbing in soothing circles, and Geri wants to speak, tell her all about this mess, but all that comes out is a hysterical laugh, the anxiety bubbling inside her finally finding a release. Emily stays with her until she calms down, drawing in a couple deep breaths. ‘I need to go buy a pregnancy test.’ Emily is quiet beside her, the only indication that she heard the way her lips form a surprised, if silent, oh.

The whole day is a blur, but she eventually pees on a stick and after the longest three minutes of her life it only shows one line and she breaks out in tears with how relieved she is.

When she sees Hoyt later that day, she punches him in the shoulder and tosses him the box of condoms she’s bought together with the damn test. His only response is a grin and Geri can’t bring herself to tell him how close the call really was.

Geri is nineteen when she leaves home. She’s enrolled in the local community college to get a business degree and she would have gladly stayed at home to not have the extra expense but her father – who she loves, he’s a great dad – hates her being with Hoyt with a passion. It’s not that she didn’t know her parents disapproved of Hoyt, his family history, his loud persona, his sneaking around, but they never made it quite as obvious as they did right then.

It’s the outright ultimatum her father gives her – living at home or being with Hoyt – that has her stubborn streak flaring up something fierce and she’s packing a bag and walking to the front door before her mother even tries to start to reason with either of them.

They move into a trailer parked in the front yard of someone Hoyt might know or who might be friends with Hoyt’s brother, she’s not sure. It’s cramped and they literally live on top of each other but it’s still better than giving in to her father and not being with Hoyt, even if it’s still hard. They don’t have much money with Hoyt working odd jobs and her picking up shifts at the mini mart whenever her college lessons leave enough time, but they manage to make it through somehow. It’s a month later when Hoyt comes into some money – she doesn’t know how, and she doesn’t ask – and it’s enough for them to move into a crappy one-bedroom apartment in a crappy neighborhood that’s still a step up from the run-down trailer.

Geri is twenty-two the first time she has to bail Hoyt out of jail. The call comes in the early, early morning and it costs her all her savings from her job tending bar at the Side Step. Hoyt smells terrible when he throws an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek before whispering ‘Thanks, angel’ in her ear.

She can’t help the shiver and although a part of her is furious with him, the charming smile and the hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans like this is nothing, like they are just walking home after a long night at a bar, have her cracking her smile before soon. She doesn’t ask what’s happened, drunken disorderly Officer Henderson had said when she’d shown up at the police station, just shoves him in the general direction of the shower when they make it home.

It’s still early, only a little after eight, and she allows herself a moment of rest as she sinks back onto her bed. She’s barely drifting off when her eyes fly open again as water drips onto her face. Hoyt is holding himself over her, grin on his lips, water dripping from his hair to her forehead. He smells infinitely better and getting arrested doesn’t seem to have affected his mood at all and she wants to tell him he has to be more careful, stop jeopardizing his freedom, their life together, for a cheap thrill or a couple hundred bucks but instead she just pulls him down and brings her lips to his.

He tastes like mint and just the faintest hint of whiskey and she’s still young and reckless enough to let herself get swept up in the taste and the sense of danger and adventure that comes with being with Hoyt. She groans into the kiss when his hands sneak under her shirt and she can feel his lips curve into a smile against hers.

He knows he’s won, knows she won’t be mad, knows she won’t leave.

The charges are dropped a week later, shit just doesn’t stick to him, and he pays her back a month later, in cash, with interest.

Geri is twenty-three the first time it happens.

It’s a Saturday, 2:06 am, at the Side Step, and she’s slightly buzzed but not drunk. They have been celebrating, Cordell and Emily’s engagement, but the crowd cleared a while ago. It’s just her and Hoyt and one of the regulars who’s had a few too many in the corner booth and Kelly is behind the bar and none-too-subtly glaring at her for still being here.

She’s only half-listening to the stupid joke Hoyt is making to get Kelly to lighten up as her eyes flickers to her watch again. 2:08 am.

She pushes off the bar stool and beside her Hoyt does the same the moment he sees her move. She slaps some cash on the counter to settle their tab, plus a nice tip for Kelly who just takes the cash with a nod of thanks and a goodnight.

Hoyt takes her hand as they step out into the warm night air and she interlaces their fingers, his palm hot against hers. Sometimes she still can’t believe it’s been ten years – TEN years – she has known this man, spent time with this man, sometimes against her better judgement.

She leans up for a kiss, lets their lips meet for a moment before pulling away again. She can’t quite place the flicker of emotion in his eyes when he looks at her for another moment. She’s about to say something, anything, to break the silence when he squeezes her hand, pulling her focus, as he sinks down onto one knee in the dusty parking lot.

Her heart flutters in her chest and she has to swallow against the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. Surely, he’s not-

‘I love you, Ger. Marry me.’

He is. And God knows, there’s a part of her that’s burning to say yes. She can tell he’s not that drunk, eyes still clear, a hopefulness in his eyes she hasn’t seen in a long while.

‘I didn’t have time to get a real ring, but-‘ He opens his palm, revealing a makeshift ring, a curled up cocktail straw from the bar, bright red, so tacky and yet oh-so-perfect.

She takes the ring, slips it on her finger, before pulling him to his feet. ‘Baby, I love you, too. And you know, the answer’s always yes, right? But we don’t have real jobs, we don’t have money and we don’t have a baby on the way like Cordi and Em. Someday, yeah?’

He twists the straw ring on her finger, steals a kiss, maybe a bit more urgent than usual, his forehead resting against hers when he pulls away. ‘You and me, though, right?’

She brings her hand up to run her fingers softly through the messy strands of his hair, eyes never leaving his. ‘Always, baby. You and me against them all.’

Geri is twenty-six when everything changes. Old Hunter wants to sell the bar, wants to sell herthe bar and she is considering it. Sure, money is tight, and it would require a loan to start a company for her to officially take over, but it’s a step in the right direction and she’s excited about the idea.

She tells Hoyt close to the end of her shift when he’s sitting at the bar, nursing his whiskey while waiting for her to finish. He seems genuinely excited for her as he leans over the counter to pull her in for a kiss. She indulges him (and herself) for a moment before pushing him back with a laugh. He grins, winking at her, and she can feel that this is going to be good. For both of them.

When she finishes her shift half an hour later and locks up, it’s just the two of them as the wipes down the bar counter. Hoyt’s helping by picking up the last remaining empty glasses from the back tables and she watches him for a moment. She picks up a cocktail straw on impulse, twisting it a few times.

‘You okay?’ Hoyt asks as he joins her behind the bar to set down the used glasses on a surface she hasn’t wiped down yet. She turns, takes his hand.

‘Hoyt-‘ She tries, she really does, but her voice fails her and instead she just opens her hand, revealing the straw ring she made.

‘Are you asking me to marry you, Ger?’ He sounds surprised and just a tiny bit amused and Geri shifts from one foot to the other before forcing herself to meet his eyes.

‘Yes? I mean, I know I said someday, but today feels like someday and I love you and-‘

‘Geri.’ His voice is quiet, and it makes her shut up almost instantly, her eyes flicking up to his. He takes the ring from her, slides it onto his finger. ‘The answer’s always yes.’

She laughs, softly, before meeting him halfway for a kiss that is more chaste than expected. He pulls her to him, and she goes easily, lets herself be held.

‘You and me.’ She whispers into his neck and she can feel his lips curve into a smile against her temple. ‘Always, baby.’

She spends the next day with a stupid smile on her face, but she also spends most of it at the bank, trying to get a loan to buy the bar. It’s not going her way, she can feel it, and it puts a damper on her mood but not enough to spoil her day. There’s more than one bank in town and she’ll try again the next day.

It’s a rough night at the Side Step, though. They run out of beer and a few of their regulars start a fight over some poker game that almost ends with her own nose broken. It’s only when she closes down, exhausted after the day that she notices she hasn’t heard from Hoyt all day. It’s not that uncommon but she starts feeling a little uneasy by morning.

She’s just gone to sleep for an hour or so when the phone rings. She doesn’t immediately recognize the number, but she picks up anyway and her stomach drops when the voice at the other end of the line is Abeline Walker’s.

It’s all a blur after the words Hoyt and arrested come down the line and Geri mentally tries to count the remaining money she could possibly scrounge together to bail him out, until realization hits.

If Abeline is calling her, she got the info from Cordell who either was involved in the arrest or got the info from the Rangers who were, and if Rangers were involved, they most likely weren’t talking about a drunk and disorderly charge.

‘Geri, are you still there, honey?’

She swallows against the dryness in her throat, blinks against the tears forming in her eyes.

‘How bad is it?’

Abeline sighs at the other end of the line. ‘Honey, you’ll have to talk to Cordell.’

Geri doesn’t mean to slam the phone down so hard, and she feels sorry for Abeline; she really doesn’t deserve her anger. She immediately starts dialing Cordell’s number, but he doesn’t pick up and her anger flares again.

He finds her hours later at the bar and she’s pissed at the nonchalant way he comes sauntering in, like nothing’s wrong, like he hasn’t just upended her whole life. He has the nerve to lean on the bar and ask for a shot of whiskey and Geri loses it for a moment, though she instantly regrets the resounding slap in his face.

Cordell holds his face for a second before his hand closes around her wrist and he pulls her with him until they are in the small manager’s office in the back. ‘I’m-‘

‘You arrested him? Why, Walker? You need a collar that bad?’

‘Geri-‘

‘Why would you- after everything he’s done for you!’

‘It wasn’t me, Geri!’ His voice booms in the enclosed space and Geri finally falls silent, though her arms cross defiantly over her chest. She listens quietly as Cordell tells her what has happened, bank robbery, Hoyt as the wheelman, two of them getting picked up, two getting away.

She’s angry all over again by the time he finishes, though she’s not entirely sure who with. ‘So what now?’

Cordell shrugs, and he seems uncomfortable as he speaks again.

‘He’s going to prison, Geri. I don’t know for how long.’

She resists only a little bit when Cordell pulls her into a hug and holds her tightly till she goes limp against him.

The next week is a blur and she’s nursing a permanent hangover thanks to too many shots during her shift and far too many after. She’s not proud of it, but the uncertainty and possibility of spending years without Hoyt after spending more than a decade with him is harrowing.

She’s just taking a moment to rest her forehead against the wood of the bar counter when there’s a knock on the door.

‘We’re closed!,’ she yells, but the door opens anyway and a man peeks inside, some kind of delivery service judging from the cap and jacket.

‘Sorry, I have a delivery for-‘ he looks down at the package in his hand ‘-Geraldine Broussard?’

She nods and motions for him to come closer and he sets the package down onto the bar with a thud as she signs for it. ‘Have a good day, ma’am.’

She grimaces at the ma’am but gives a half-hearted wave anyway before turning her attention to the package. There’s no sender, just her name and the bar’s address in big black block letters. It’s also heavy, very much so, and curiosity finally gets the better of her.

She rips the easy-open strip and a scrap of paper falls out the moment the package is open. It’s a handwritten note, just the words for the bar scrawled in a handwriting she doesn’t recognize. What catches her attention, though, is the straw ring taped to the bottom of the note.

She can’t help the small smile as she takes the tape off, running her fingers along the twisted green plastic before slipping it on her finger. She folds open the box a bit more and her mouth falls open in a gasp. It’s money, lots of money, and she hesitates for just a second.

It’s got to be Hoyt’s cut; Cordell had said they hadn’t found the money with Hoyt and the other guy they picked up. She quickly closes the box again, twisting the ring on her finger. She knows the right thing would be to turn this over to the police, or Cordell at least, but she ends up shoving the box into the safe in the manager’s office before starting her shift.

She goes to see Hoyt in jail a few days later. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, hair messy, beard way beyond the close-shaven stubble. He also seems genuinely surprised to see her, his hand reaching for receiver almost immediately. ‘What are you doing here, angel?’

She just looks at him for a moment, before bringing up her hand, showing him the twisted green ring on her finger. ‘You and me, right?’

She barely resists bringing her palm to the plexiglass between them in a stupid movie move and just drops her hand into her lap. ‘I got your gift.’

His mouth quirks into a grin. ‘Good. You still wanna marry me?’

The tone of his voice betrays the easy grin on his face, and she sighs, leaning back in her seat. ‘How long do I have to wait?’

‘Two to four, depending on the judge’s mood.’

‘Hoyt-‘

For the first time, his grin falters. ‘I don’t expect you to wait, Ger.’

She brings her hand up to silence him. ‘You and me, always. I’ll be busy with my bar anyway.’

And yeah, maybe she’s become a little more flexible with her morals over the years but that’s not saying her father was right when he accused Hoyt of being a bad influence her all these years ago.

She buys the bar from Hunter, takes out a small loan from a local bank for appearances, starts a company to manage it – Straw Ring LLP – and generally just stays busy. As per Hoyt’s request, she doesn’t attend his sentencing hearing, but Cordell stops by later that day to tell her it’s two years – two years in prison for Hoyt, two years for her without Hoyt.

Geri is twenty-seven when she learns how to get creative with accounting. The bar is making money but still not enough money to justify the amount in her safe or in the company’s bank account.

Two more packages have arrived over a period of 6 months and she’s still figuring out where to put it all. She takes it home for now, hides it under the loose floorboard in her new house, the one she can now finally afford. It’s small, but still big enough for the two of them, maybe someday even three of them, and she likes having this space that is just hers, will be just theirs, a sanctuary from the world.

Geri is twenty-eight when her father dies. The call comes late on a Tuesday and she tries to make it to the hospital in time, but he’s already gone when she comes barreling through the doors. Her mother’s a mess, quietly sobbing in her seat in the family room, and Geri wishes so much that her brother were here, with his larger-than-life presence and calm voice that had never failed to put her mother at ease. As it is, it is just the two of them, quiet, tense, with just grief and unspoken anger hanging between them.

Everything up until the funeral is a blur. It’s a week of phone calls and condolences and casseroles and spending the nights in her childhood home. Being back in her old room makes her miss Hoyt something fierce, every corner of the room bringing up memories, good and bad. It’s also bringing up the guilt of not being there enough, not calling enough, of never fully forgiving her father for kicking her out almost ten years ago. It’s a twisted mix of grief and love and guilt that she would love to drown in cheap tequila and bad decisions, but she keeps it together, for her mother.

The day of the funeral is hot, sweltering, the Texas sun unforgiving in the small cemetery. Beside her, her mother is disappearing under the large black hat she’s wearing, her head bowed, the tears silently flowing. Emily is on her other side, her hand firmly holding Geri’s, squeezing every so often, but by now, Geri’s all cried out, there are no more tears left. She’s not even really listening, the priest’s words just a distant buzz at the back of her mind only interrupted by her mother’s sobs beside her.

She just watches in silence as the coffin is lowered into the ground and her mother weakly drops a handful of soil onto the wood. She follows suit, her head still buzzing with the noise of people around her, and she wishes she could cry now as she looks down into the 6 ft hole in the ground. She wishes there were some feeling left besides the numbing emptiness as she steps back to her mother’s side to accept more condolences from other guests.

The sun is blinding in her eyes and while her mother talks to their next-door neighbor in a quiet voice, Geri takes the moment to shield her eyes, letting her eyes wander the cemetery, over sun-burnt grass and weather-worn headstones. It’s only then that she notices the lone figure in the distance, casually resting against a tree in the shade, dark denim jeans, red-checkered flannel, tan cowboy hat.

For a moment she thinks she’s hallucinating, that the heat and the grief have gotten to her, but when she blinks and refocuses, she can still see him, he’s still there, right there, so close, and it feels like her heart’s going to beat out of her chest. Her body moves before she even realizes, breaking into a run, fully ignoring her mother’s indignant hiss of her name.

She slows down only once, halfway to the tree and just long enough to take off her shoes when a heel gets stuck in the ground, leaving them right there in the grass, the ground warm and dry beneath her bare feet. She all but throws herself at him, her arms going around his shoulders as she burrows her face in his shoulder.

His hands are steady at her back, holding her close, his body so warm against hers, so real, and she pulls away for a second, looking up at him, the stupid blue eyes, the day-old stubble, and she pushes his hat back by the brim until it hits the ground behind him. She surges up for a kiss, short, just a press of lips against lips, before throwing herself into his arms again. ‘You’re here.’

She’s not sure he even understands her mumbling against his neck, but she doesn’t care. He’s here, Hoyt’s here, today of all days, and she can feel the tears streaking down her cheeks now. ‘I got you, angel.’

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just clinging to Hoyt like a lifeline, but she never wants to stop. He eventually pulls away, just far enough to look at her, his hands coming up to frame her face, thumbs brushing away the tears. ‘I’m so sorry.’

She looks up at him and tries for a smile. ‘How are you here?’

‘Early release, good behavior and all that.’ He winks at her and she can’t help a small laugh. ‘Thank you. For coming. I know my dad wasn’t your biggest fan-‘

Hoyt shushes her, brings her hand up to press a kiss to her palm. ‘He was yours, that’s enough for me.’

He steals another kiss, still slow and soft, and it ends way too soon when someone clears their throat behind them.

‘Hey Cordi.’ Cordell nods to Hoyt in acknowledgement before turning his attention to Geri.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt but you should go, Geri, your mother’s waiting by the car.’ He dangles her shoes from his fingers, and she takes them reluctantly, steadying herself on Hoyt’s shoulder to put them back on. She can see Emily waiting for her a few steps back, but she still turns back to Hoyt one more time, her hands smoothing over his chest. ‘I’ll see you later?’

He simply nods and she turns to Cordell. ‘You have the spare key to my apartment?’

‘At home, but we’ll get it.’ She takes a breath, allows herself a moment to wipe a smudge of her lipstick from Hoyt’s mouth before taking a step back. ‘Alright, later then.’

Her mother is pissed at her. Something about inappropriate behavior and that boy – Geri just stops listening to the rant after a while. The wake drags on endlessly and while she enjoys hearing stories about her father, old and new, she still feels overwhelmed. Guilty for not being there then, guilty for not really wanting to be there now.

She’s tired, oh-so-tired, by the time she finally makes it home. The apartment is dark save for the flickering on the tv from the living room and she sighs as she slips out of her shoes and undoes the clip holding her hair up. Her feet are still dirty, leaving small dust prints on the light carpet but she can’t bring herself to care.

She stops in the door to the living room, allowing herself a moment to just appreciate the sight of Hoyt sprawled over her couch, his eyes closed, leg hanging of the edge. He seems comfortable, peaceful, and her heart expands with joy, happiness, love, despite the sorrows of the day.

She crosses the room until she’s right in front of the couch, rests a knee in the gap created by Hoyt’s legs. He stirs but doesn’t open his eyes as he blindly reaches for her. She goes easily when he tugs softly on her hand and she exhales against his chest once her body comes to rest on top of his, his arms tightening around her immediately. ‘You doin’ okay, angel?’

His voice is rough with sleep and she shivers at the sound. ‘Not really, but having you here helps. Are you okay?’

He tightens his embrace around her. ‘Perfect. I like the apartment.’ She shifts up just enough to bring her lips to his in a soft kiss. He hums against her, one hand coming up to twist into her hair, gently angling her head to deepen the kiss.

Geri is thirty-five when Emily dies. It’s the first time she actively misses Hoyt, misses having him close, to lean on. She misses him when she makes it home from that fateful run to the border, misses him when Cordell breaks down with grief, misses him at the funeral. There are so many things she wants to tell him, needs to tell him, things that are burning at the tip of her tongue. Instead, she smiles, tries to offer support to Cordell and his family, just like she did when Cordell was on deployment. Just good ol’ Geri, being there when needed.

It’s also the first time she resents him for not being there. She’s tried reaching out, and she’s sure, wherever he is, that he must have heard by now, from someone, what has happened. He should be here, for Cordell, for her, but he isn’t and it’s stupid how angry she gets. She takes it out on one of the pool cues and a bottle of cheap whiskey, the splintering and shattering a welcome, if short-lived, distraction.

She’s still angry when she wakes up the next morning and she’s still angry when Cordell asks about Hoyt a few days later.

Geri is thirty-seven and still a bit angry when Hoyt comes sauntering into the Side Step with Cordell like no time has passed at all. He turns on the charm, lays it on thick, but she’s determined to resist, to not give in that easily, not this time.

It stings a bit when Cordell confirms she isn’t even Hoyt’s first stop, but it only helps strengthen her resolve; her replies remain snippy, her demeanor cool. Until the bastard drops down on one knee and has the nerve to propose and her stupid, stupid heart starts to flutter just like it did when she was sixteen. She still can’t tell if he’s being honest or just putting on a show for Cordell, though, so she does the only thing that could provide some clarity. ‘You don’t even have a ring.’

When he opens his hand to reveal the red straw ring, her whole world stops for a second. Yes. The answer’s always yes. It echoes in her mind, makes her head spin; his stupid blue eyes and his stupid grin melting the anger of the last years and her resolve without even trying and he knows.

There are a million things she wants to say, ask, yell. Questions she needs to know the answers to.

‘Sit down.’ It’s all she can get out while still carefully keeping a somewhat neutral expression on her face. He settles at the bar with Cordell and a deck of cards, and she pours them all a shot of whiskey. She joins the game after getting everything ready for opening and it’s easy, like old times, just without Emily.

Every so often her eyes flicker to Hoyt, taking him in, the ease in his posture, how he just acts like nothing’s happened at all. She puts on a brave face, goes along with the jokes, but she knows they’ll have to talk, sooner or later. It’s something they’ve never been good at and she’s sure part of him dreads it just as much as she does.

They never make it that far; she knows the moment Cordell’s stupid partner walks in that she’s up to no good. Sure enough, Hoyt’s in handcuffs before long and while she’s not surprised, her heart still skips in her chest at the possibility of losing him again so soon. Cordell follows them with a somewhat apologetic look on his face, but it does nothing to relieve the sudden ball of anxiety in her chest.

She doesn’t hear from any of them until the next day when Cordell’s girl partner comes walking in and orders a shot of tequila. The money she lays on the counter is topped by the red straw ring Hoyt had made the day before but the words he left it for you before he left town are empty, they both know left townis just code for prison – again- and while a part of her wants to cave, give in to the pain as she slides the ring onto her finger, she retains enough composure to con the Ranger out of some more money with a stupid quip before sending her on her way.

It takes her almost two weeks to work up the nerve to ask Cordell where Hoyt is. He hesitates to tell her, but she knows which buttons to push to get the information she needs. She hasn’t visited Hoyt in jail or prison since that first time, it’s not what they do; plausible deniability, she guesses, for when mysterious packages of cash show up on her doorstep.

He still keeps putting her on his visiting list each time he gets locked up, though she’s never completed the form before.

Hoyt is surprised to see her, for sure, but she thinks she can also see some relief in his eyes. She’s itching to reach for his hand, but there’s no touching, all the signs say so. It’s harder, out here in the open with just a table between them, instead of plexiglass separating them. ‘What are you doing here, angel?’

Her heart aches with the familiar phrase and she barely manages a smile. ‘Stopping in for just a game of poker isn’t enough after three years.’

He grimaces and the cuffs on his wrists jangle when he stretches his hands out to her. Throwing caution to the wind, she allows herself a moment of weakness and reaches to close the gap, intertwining their fingers for just a moment until a guard reprimands them way too soon. She drops her hands to her lap instead and it’s harder than expected to keep eye contact. ‘Ger, look, I know I screwed up when I left and I’m sorry. I didn’t deal and I left you alone to deal with-‘

She stops him with a hand gesture. ‘We both didn’t deal; it wasn’t just on you. I just- you didn’t come back. Not even when Emily- you didn’t come back, Hoyt.’

He flinches at her words and for a moment he looks so much like the young boy who used to sneak into her bedroom at night, it makes her heart hurt. ‘I know, baby, and I’m sorry. But I need you to know, I’ll always come back. It might take me a little longer sometimes, but I’ll always come back to you. You and me, always, right?’

She nods, biting her lip. ‘If I were to leave for a while, start over somewhere else, would you come find me?’

He grins at her then, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘Always, angel.’

She makes the decision to sell the Side Step a few weeks later. With Hoyt in prison and Emily gone and Cordell back to work and taking care of his kids, there’s nothing holding her here.

It wasn’t what she was going for when trying to sell the bar but taking Emily’s life insurance money feels like some kind of karmic justice, for all the times she stuck up for all of them, for all the times Hoyt was taken from her by Cordell or one of his colleagues, for all the times she didn’t get anything in return.

There’s a bag of cash in her trunk and a check in her purse, a straw ring in the cup holder. She doesn’t know where she’s going but she knows Hoyt is going to find her, wherever she may be, whenever he might get the chance.

It just her and him, no laws, no rules, always.

Hoyt is forty when he shows up at Geri’s new home in Georgia with a diamond ring.

‘You and me, right?’

He watches as Geri’s lips quirk into a smile as she slides the ring on her finger before she closes the space between them. The warm tickle of her breath against his ear, the scent of her hair when he burrows his nose into it, her body fitting so perfectly against his, it’s all enough, no matter the answer.

#fic #unfinished #walker 2021 #geri x hoyt #hoyt x geri #geri broussard #hoyt rawlins #ami writes #archive

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boom-fanfic-a-latta · 4 years ago

Note

“QUOTE. JAY HAS NEARLY DIED. TWICE. ONCE BY IMPALEMENT DUE TO A GIANT WORM. And that’s not even getting into what’s planned behind the scenes... Also, have you SEEN the Terraria wiki?! Quote, you have no idea what you’re talking about...” ya. I’m actually a lot darker then you would think. but jeez. I’m better at acting then I thought I was, I could make a au where everyone dies painfully and be ok with it, seriously, and worse, I’m probably a little mentally unstable. oh well, (Quote)

Ah.

...Carry on then.

(You know, you remind me a lot of my friend Geri/Psycho🔪, now that I look at it...)

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waypathfinder · 6 years ago

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Crimson Lane - Chapter 11 - The Traitor

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot

Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

Links

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Archive of our Own (from the start)

Archive of our Own (chapter)

Fanfiction.net

Chapter Text

Morning in the city was a deranged cocktail of senses to Kylo: jackhammers pounding, sirens screaming, crying babies, all of it stewing in a pot of pollution and garbage.

He stalked forward, head down with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his path direct; determined. People passed him, bumping against his body while fiddling on their phones, careless and self-absorbed, ignorant of how every touch made him stiffen; hyper-aware.

The product of someone who’d always had to watch their back.

And never more so than right now.

Normally, if he had to walk down the street, he did so with a pair of earphones in, tuning out the world around him.

But today, there was no music. He needed to be aware.

The noise of the city dulled into the background, the jolting disarray of sound overwhelmed by a subtle roar, breathless and quiet. Like the wind before a train cuts through a subway tunnel.

Everything fell silent but the roar of his inner monologue: You were the one who chose this path, you, a grovelling, terrified teenager.

And now his road cut deep, a chasm with no escape. He’d tried to claw his way out of it many times, but Snoke had always been one step ahead of the game.

Not any more.

Two weeks ago, Kylo Ren waited in Snoke’s office, eyes downcast, hands in pocket, toying nervously with a sleek black cylindrical shaped UBS Drive in his pocket.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Be patient!” Snoke scolded him, hungrily clicking on his mouse, the pink flesh of his tongue coasting across his lips.

“You said it was urgent.”

Snoke glared at him, lips moving, silent and angry.

“Were you on my computer before?”

“No,” Kylo said flatly.

“My settings have changed.” He clicked his mouse in loud tapping motions, annoyed. “That bastard San Tekka has been leaking info to the press again. I thought you were taking care of it.”

“I am. Hux and I have almost tracked him down. We’re close.”

“So you keep saying.”

Snoke clicked on the mouse a few more times, fascinated with whatever was on his screen. “For ex-security, he seems to know a lot about our operation.”

The hairs on the back of Kylo’s neck prickled unsettlingly. “Lor San Tekka may have just been a security guard, but he had the means to access a lot of information.”

Snoke was silent.

Watchful.

Kylo pulled at the collar of his shirt, feeling as if he were being choked.

“Do you think he’s getting his info from someone else?” Kylo asked.

“Possibly.” Snoke shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Unlikely—” he began, then smirked, thinking of a better response, “How much do you trust Hux?”

Snoke’s shoulders moved, a laugh. Kylo was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief when his boss’s eyes narrowed at him as they flicked between the monitor and him.

“You little fucker!”

Kylo paled, throat closing.

“Did you think I wouldn’t see this?”

Snoke spun his laptop around. The footage was dark and the sound unclear, but there was a clear outline of men wearing black balaclavas. In the middle of the room was an elderly man, blabbering incoherently.

The tallest of the masked assailants took a step towards him and, with lightning speed, kicked him in the loin. The audio bled into weeping screams and Kylo stepped back, turning away. It always made him sick to watch himself work.

“Did I tell you to look away?”

Kylo straightened, his pulse pounding at the base of his neck. “I don’t see what the problem is. You got your money.“

“You call that a Mawashi Geri? You are off-balance. What am I paying you for if you can’t even deliver a simple roundhouse kick?”

“We got the money,” Kylo stressed the point through gritted teeth, balling his fists behind his back.

Snoke rolled his eyes as his lips curled into a sneer.

“It’s not just about the money, son. These vipers need to learn that the First Order owns them. Did he need to go to a hospital?”

No, they had left him bleeding and screaming on the floor. In pain, but not seriously injured.

A failure, in Snoke’s eyes.

“Just what I thought. I have no use for spineless worms who can’t follow orders.”

Kylo nodded, eyes downcast. “Is that all?”

“No.” Snoke stood, his golden robe sweeping around his body in a gesture of grandeur. He glided towards Kylo, slow and smooth as a snake slithers through the grass.

“I have a question for you,” he whispered. “Blonde or brunette?”

“Huh?” Kylo asked, taken aback at the change in conversation.

“What do you like to fuck, blondes or brunettes?”

“I…” he stammered. Some part of him still felt ashamed that he used the girls here. It was— It was not the way he saw his future playing out.

“Which one—” Snoke’s voice rose.

“Brunette.”

“Ha!” Snoke purred. “Interesting. You know, I found a pretty little piece of flesh the other day. Phasma’s going to bring her in. She has no family, is desperate for cash, young. You will like her. Brunette. ”

“They all do the same job once the lights are off,” Kylo said dryly.

Snoke chuckled to himself, his bony fingers reaching out and squeezing Kylo’s shoulder. “Well, that’s true. I’ll book her in for you. Monday, July 2. Kanjiklub are late with their payment again. I need you to show Tasu Leech we mean business. Smash his kneecap, I don’t care which one. You can have this girl when you’re finished… to unwind.”

“Fine,” Kylo grumbled. “Bring her in.”

“Oh, I will,” he hissed, those icy eyes filling Kylo with a chill that ran straight to his core.

***

Bring her in.

Those three fateful words. Kylo had said them just to shut Snoke up. But his boss had planned this from the beginning, setting the trap, using Rey as the bait. The question was why, now, after all this time, was Snoke so focused on him? Was it a power play, a lesson to bring him into line, or something bigger and far more dangerous?

And Rey.

Snoke had dragged her into this shit-show. Manipulated and lured her into thinking she could pay off her debt—the one he had forced on her.

Kylo stormed past a metal bin anchored to a pole, battered and dented from years of misuse.

Rey.

He kicked it as hard as he could. The metal crash rang out, scattering loose pieces of rubbish on the ground.

He had to keep Snoke away from her, and time was running out.

Kylo kicked the bin again, this time it dislodged from its anchor, and crashed onto the sidewalk, almost taking out a middle-aged couple in the process. They exchanged knowing looks at each other and mouthed the word ‘drugs’.

If only it was drugs. Then he would have an excuse for being the way he was. Violent. Unbalanced.

He charged down the street, fixated on the passing pavement beneath his feet until he was standing in front of a faded red door.

Kylo hammered on it.

No answer.

Again.

He stopped, knuckles stinging, from the other side there was the sound of rattling keys and... one, two, three: the locks snapped open. The handle turned and the door creaked open, just enough.

A gaunt man with short-cropped white hair, a neat beard and pale blue eyes peered out.

Kylo pushed the door open with his boot and Lor San Tekka took an unsteady step back.

“Look how old you’ve become.”

”Something far worse has happened to you,” Lor replied.

Kylo straightened his spine, glowering. “You know why I’m here.”

“Take a seat.”

Rey crossed her arms, gnawing at the inside of her mouth like she was chewing on a bone.

This was a bad idea.

A very bad Idea.

“Come on, Rey. I don’t bite,” Poe said, flashing his dazzling white teeth at her.

She studied him warily, noting the way he stood between her and the exit; one hand clutching his briefcase, the other inviting her to sit. Ridiculous smile, glued in place. No doubt he tried to look welcoming, but it was too eager, like she was being lured into a trap.

You could still leave. She tried to stay calm. Just turn around and disappear forever.

Poe must have sensed her hesitation, because he sat down with a lazy thump, kicking his feet up on the chair opposite, and casually began reading the menu with a bored expression.

Eventually, Rey took a measured breath and lowered her body slowly into the booth as Poe watched her subtly, peering out beneath his thick brows. At the far end of the room, a tray crashed to the floor and the sound of breaking glass shattered around her. She jumped, skittery as a wild deer. Heart pounding.

“Here.” Poe pushed the menu towards her, his voice placating. “Order whatever you want. My work’s paying.”

She supposed she could stay for a bite to eat if he was paying. After all, Rey looked around at the plush velvet seats, vase centrepieces with explosions of colour… and then there were those rich aromas wafting from the kitchen. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

A restaurant meal. When would she be lucky enough to score one of those again?

“Okay,” she sighed and opened the menu, running her finger down the line of prices.

$29, $35, $32…

Ah. There it was.

“I’ll have that one.” She tapped her finger against the menu.

“The lobster?” Poe squinted at his own menu, jaw dropping. “It’s sixty-five dollars!”

“Yes, that’s the one.” She nodded decisively. “I’ve not tried it before.”

He took her menu back and groaned. “Really? You’ve ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“Did I ?” Rey teased, a picture of innocence.

Poe shook his head, mumbling something about a thirty-dollar limit. It was a small victory, but it was sweet enough.

Once the orders were taken, Poe pulled out a dog-eared file and whacked it on the table.

“Don’t you use computers at the Hosnian Herald?” she asked.

“Cute. You want to be a reporter sweetheart? You watch and learn.”

Rey rolled her eyes, but watched anyway, because hell yes, she wanted to be a reporter.

Poe placed a notepad filled with messy shorthand strokes on the table, followed by a dictaphone.

“I thought you said you left that back at the office?”

“Did I ?”

Rey scowled at him, but that may have been because otherwise she might have smiled. Bloody reporters!

“Right, let’s get started.“ Poe bypassed the notepad and pressed ‘record’ on the dictaphone.

“So, Rey,” he said, locking his black coffee-coloured eyes on her. “How’s life in the sex industry?”

Shit! She shot her hand to turn off the recording device.

“You can’t record that!”

“For a girl who’s trying to protect her secrets, you’re not very obliging.”

“What makes you think I’m trying to hide anything?”

“Oh, in that case, I’ll call Finn back and he can take notes. Sorry, my bad.”

Rey’s mouth turned to ash, fingernails pushing into her forearms, leaving half-moon pressure marks on her skin. She was stuffed, and could only watch in horror as Poe unlocked his phone, flicking through his contact list.

“Wait!”

Breathe, Rey! The words were her own, but they had mixed with the gravelly undercurrent of her former Sensei, Master Skywalker. The memory swept her away to a quiet hall with bright, sunlit windows and polished wooden floors.

“ What do you see?” Master Skywalker asked, his voice filtering through her meditation, guiding her.

“The man in black,” she whispered. Those quiet moments of self-reflection always wrenched her back to that cesspit of a home, to the night she was attacked. She could never stop seeing him.

“You see your enemy?” his voice was calm, a safe harbour in stormy seas.

“Yes.”

“Never show weakness before your enemy. Stand strong.”

And like that, she was back, faced with this smiling, ambitious reporter who thought he could bully her into exposing her story.

She stiffened, lifting her eyebrows and meeting his eyes with a level-headed coldness.

“Are you blackmailing me, Poe Dameron?”

“Blackmail?” Poe looked affronted. “What!? No!”

“So, what if I refuse to tell you anything?”

“Then you refuse. There’s not much I can do about it.”

“You won’t tell Finn what I’m doing?”

Poe sighed. “Look, I don’t want your story, Rey. I have no wish to expose you or call you out. I just want you to tell me everything you know about Snoke.

Alexander Snoke. Rey shivered. Even the thought of that deceptively frail, hulking creep made her want to disappear forever. “I don’t know anything about Snoke.”

Poe nodded, as though he expected as much. Untying the document wallet before of him, he opened the flap and pulled out a stack of newspaper clippings.

“Let me enlighten you then.”

Terror bombing kills 120

First Order scores multi-million dollar government security contract

Palpatine’s popularity soars amidst vote of no confidence

Resistance battered into submission, Organa-Solo resigns

“And my personal favourite.”

Reporter targeted in Yavin car bomb

“Your boss, Alexander Snoke, is behind every single one of these stories.”

Rey sifted through the articles as Poe continued to bring more out, scattering them on the table in a messy collage: reports of beatings, stabbings, robbery, blackmail… the list seemed endless.

“To the public, he is the revered CEO of the First Order. Fortune magnet. But behind the scenes, he is manipulating the government and crushing anyone who gets in his way.”

“What’s his endgame then?” Rey flicked through the pages, amazed at how much Poe had actually pegged against him.

“Power.” Poe twisted his cup of water on the table, watching the way the water stayed still regardless. “By bombing the Resistance, he created a sense of panic. Meanwhile, he has a few quiet words to his mate Palpatine, and what do you know? The First Order scores a huge government contract, providing security and weapons to the police force. Suddenly the Imperial government’s rigid military rule starts to look like a pretty good idea, and since Palpatine owes him a couple favours he can start to cash in and make things go the way he wants on a larger scale.”

“That seems like a bit of a far stretch for a guy who runs a brothel.”

“A brothel and a multi-billion-dollar company. Anyway, the brothel is just a front, essentially; plus, he likes it. The guy’s a complete sexual deviant.”

Rey thought back to his special cupboard, the way he had filmed her. Poe sure as hell wasn’t wrong about that.

“From Crimson Lane he does all the illegal stuff because he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that at the First Order; it’s under a lot more scrutiny. Also, he can’t fund any underhanded deals through First Order books, so that’s where the loans and drugs come into play. He preys on junkies and anyone else in desperate positions. He finds their weak spot and breaks them through blackmail, loans, threats, addiction, whatever he can to fund his operation.”

Rey searched through the clippings, her expression hollow. It was so much bigger than she ever thought.

And was this what Kylo Ren was part of? She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t.

But…

And there was a but. A brutal threatening fact that lurked in the shadow of her mind.

Her hand strayed across the Resistance bombing articles, Senator Leia Organa-Solo had stepped down after they had lost so many lives, feeling somehow responsible.

She picked up the largest article on the Resistance attack:

Terror bomb devastates. Beneath the headline was a photograph of broken bodies beneath white sheets that were smeared with blood. From beneath one of them was a child’s hand outstretched, charred and bloody. Lifeless. She had seen images of that hand on the television news that day. It had stayed with her long after.

She read beneath the image.

There are fears up to 120 are dead today after a mysterious bomb blast crushed Resistance headquarters in the early hours of the morning.

A spokesperson for the Police first response team said the perpetrators designed the bomb to cause maximum damage.

The Imperial government has denied any involvement and has condemned the attack as “despicable”.

It looks to be the end of an already embattled Resistance party, after they suffered a landslide defeat in the last election.

Rey glued her eyes to the story, hand trembling.

Did Rose know she was working for the man responsible for her sister’s death? Did any of them?

“How can you be sure that Snoke is behind all of this?”

Poe lowered his head and whispered, “I have a source.”

Rey nodded, furrowing her brow. There was a rising feeling of anxiety from deep within. Poe pressed on, leaning forward.

“I promise you, once we’re finished with this story, Snoke will be done. We’ll have him on the Resistance bombing and so much more. Rey—”

He said her name with a breath of desperation, as though he had come to the point where he would plead his case, but he held back.

Rey gnawed at her fingernails, mind racing. If Snoke was behind all this, then did it mean Kylo was the one inflicting the damage?

“We need to get him, Rey. This bastard never gets his own hands dirty. He gets his army of trained mercenaries to do it for him — he calls them his Knights.”

She nodded, face ashen, the newspaper report on the Resistance bombing trembling in her shaking hands. Her eyes, glued on the pictures of covered bodies. The sound of that explosion, rippling through her brain. The stench, smouldering rubble, singed flesh, sirens, screams, despair. She hadn’t even there, walking two blocks away, but it was close enough.

“What do you know about the Knights?” she asked.

“There are nine of them, headed up by the guy only known as Kylo Ren.” Poe pried the article from her fingers and slipped it back inside his folder. “No one knows who he is or what he looks like, but from what I understand, he comes around the brothel from time to time—”

Her lungs were burning. Why couldn’t she breathe?

Poe paused, eyes narrowing in on her. “Rey, do you know who he is?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again and looked away.

“This is important Rey. If you can identify him—”

“No,” she snapped, shaking her head. “I don’t know who it is. I’ve just heard his name mentioned, that’s all.”

Poe exhaled, his demeanour slumping into the chair. “That’s a shame. Well, anyway, if you come across that guy, Rey, you run and don’t look back.”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured and meant it. Sorry that she had lied. That even while she understood Kylo was one of the “bad” guys, deep down she wasn’t ready to believe the worst of him. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was stuck, like she was.

But if Kylo was involved in that bombing, she couldn’t…

She swallowed. Her body was prickling with feverous heat, like the temperature rise before throwing up.

“Do you think he…” She took a drink of water, trying to hide the way she couldn’t stop shaking. “Do you think Kylo Ren was behind the bombing?”

Poe stared at her for a beat.

Too long.

“No. Anything with pyrotechnics is Armitage’s work. Red-headed English guy. A snivelling rat. You’ll know him when you see him. Total psycho. Loves his work.”

Rey startled as the waiter slid their meals in front of them without a word. Rey ignored it, even though her stomach was rumbling and the rich smell of the lobster with white sauce was wafting before her.

“If you’ve got a source, why do you need me?”

“Because I don’t know how much longer I will have him.”

Poe cut into the tender flesh of his steak. The juices bled onto the plate, drowning the rest of his food in red.

“A guy named Lor San Tekka got in touch with me a month ago. He’s been feeding me information on Snoke. He used to work for him until last year as a security guard. He quit after the attack. His wife, Marianne, worked for Senator Organa. She was one of the first ones found in the wreckage that day, or at least, they found parts of her.”

Rey shivered, nausea growing in her gut.

“Why on earth would you tell me who your source is?” Rey asked, horrified. She had learnt that much in the university; never, ever reveal your sources.

“I’m telling you because I need you to listen out for me. If you hear anything that sounds like they will make a move on San Tekka, I need you to tell me,” Poe said in a hushed voice. “The guy has a USB drive with enough dirt to take down Snoke and the First Order once and for all. But I don’t know…” He dragged a hand down his face, all of his suave arrogance disappearing in the movement.

“I have a bad feeling about it, Rey. Like it’s all too easy. This San Tekka guy’s got a target on his back. He’s the only one with the motive to take down Snoke. It won’t take them long to figure out he’s the leak... if they haven’t already.”

Rey thought about it. Something wasn’t right here, and she had good instincts about these things.

“So, you have him on the Resistance bombing?” she asked.

“That and so much more, I mean, this last Monday, Tasu Leech, who heads up the Kanjiklub crime family, was left beaten within an inch of his life. That was Kylo Ren’s work apparently, according to my source.”

Monday. Rey felt the blood rushing from her face. Their first night together.

“What else do you have on Kylo Ren?” God, she wished her voice would stop shaking.

“We have everything, Rey. Everything he’s been involved in over the last ten years up until last week. Well, everything except his true identity.”

Rey played with her food, quiet and thoughtful. There were so many mixed emotions fighting within her. And then a thought struck her.

“If San Tekka was just a security guard who quit his job over a year ago, how does he have access to all of this? I mean, these are some of Snoke’s biggest secrets. That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, wouldn’t it indicate there was another source? One that still works for Snoke really closely. Perhaps Lor isn’t your primary source. You said his wife was murdered in the attack, but what if he was just a front-man, who was being fed information from the real source, so he or she can stay in a position of trust.”

Poe gawked and then smiled appreciatively. “Well, I’ll be damned, Rey. Finn said you were brilliant.”

“I’m far from brilliant—” Blighted, more like.

But Poe ignored her. “Tell you what. You help me crack this case and there will be a job for you at the end of all this.”

“What, as your coffee assistant?” she scoffed.

“As a reporter, if that’s what you want? You ask the right questions, Rey, and you can obviously write, since Finn said your first year was on a scholarship. And you’ve got sass. I like that.”

Rey considered his offer. What if, after all of this, she could still have a future… How dangerous could it be?

“You’re thinking about it.” Poe leaned in with a hungry smile. “Maybe once this story is done, I could even give you a joint byline with Finn.”

A byline. Her jaw dropped, eyes smiling. Could it happen? She almost felt like crying at the possibility.

“Poe, I—”

“Don’t thank me yet. Because there’s one more thing I need from you.”

Kylo Ren squeezed into the ornate dining chair, covered in floral upholstery. The cushion of the seat was stained yellow and every time he moved it creaked, threatening imminent collapse.

Lor San Tekka’s late sister’s townhouse was a time capsule of 1970s decor, vomited up into the modern day. Vintage brown paper lined the walls and floral drapes with dusty sheer curtains clothed the windows. There were layers of dust upon every surface and it stunk of potpourri.

Next to the front door, a stoic grandfather clock stood guard, passing time with resonant beats. It was near midday. Six hours before he would be with Rey. The thought of it made his throat dry, senses alert.

She had left things … hopeful.

But he couldn’t think of her now.

Kylo sat alone at a compact dining table with two regency chairs.

The silence of the lounge room forced Kylo to listen to the old man groaning with pain, accompanied by the sound of an erratic flow of urine splashing into the basin with moans of relief.

Fuck old age. He never wanted to be old and weak. Luckily, he figured his time would come sooner rather than later—

The toilet flushed and Lor battled to return down the hall, face wincing with every step he took towards the small dining area.

Lor smiled weakly. He‘d withered into a shell of a man, with dark circles beneath his eyes, bones protruding against stretched white skin, his hair missing in clumps. And then there was that smell, hidden beneath the layers of potpourri, a stench that hovered like a low cloud blotting out the sun. It was the smell old age, like candle wax and old newspapers; the promise of death. He knew Lor was sick, but he hadn’t realised how close he was to the end.

“How have you been?” Kylo asked, ignoring the expressions of pain that fleeted across Lor’s face as he sat.

“The doctors say there’s not much time left. The cancer has spread too far. Inoperable, apparently. Let this be a warning, young Solo, to get your prostate checked regularly.”

Kylo looked out the window, past dust floating in roads of sunlight. He had known Lor his entire life; the guy was his goddamn Godfather. But even in his old age, Lor had been a beacon of strength, both physical and mental.

That had changed after the bomb. After Marianne had died…

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kylo said, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t be.” Lor poured a cup of tea for them both.

“Is there nothing they can do?”

“Why should they do anything?” Lor stirred his tea, spooning out stray tea leaves. “I have been hanging on here by a thread, Ben. I want to go home, I want to be with my wife.”

“Let’s get on with this—” Kylo snapped, pulling a USB stick out of his pocket.

Lor smiled, eyes distant. “You know, I still remember the day I met her. Marianne was an intern for the Resistance, and I was First Order security.” He laughed. “If looks could kill! Well, let’s say I wouldn’t be around to talk to you.”

Kylo flicked him a fake smile, more focussed on the small cylinder of information that could potentially destroy him and everyone else that worked for Snoke, than Lor’s musings of yesteryear.

“She was sharp as a tack, outspoken with a fiery temper. You can only imagine how much grief she gave me.”

Kylo nodded, a half smile. He could imagine Marianne putting San Tekka in his place, almost like… he saw her in his mind’s eye; hazel eyes, sun-kissed cheeks, dotted with a galaxy of stars…

Lor was still talking, but he had stopped listening, although now the old man’s tears fell, simply, without fanfare.: Chronic sadness.

He couldn’t imagine that pain. He wouldn’t let that happen to him, to Rey. Not that he loved Rey, or even…

He didn’t know. But he sure as hell wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

“What’s on your mind, Ben?”

Kylo straightened his back against the chair, hesitant to ask, but he had to know.

“How did you change her mind about you?”

“I didn’t. She fell in love with me despite what I did or the fact I worked for the ‘enemy’. She made me a better man.”

“You sold out then.” Kylo took a sip of his tea, dark eyes flashing up at Lor to check his reaction and was not disappointed,

Lor glowered, cheeks red, the first glimpse of colour on his grey face.

“No, you idiot. She made me want to be better.”

“How sweet.” Kylo gave him a wry smile.

“Mock all you like. But I know where you came from, before you called yourself Kylo Ren. I know what lies beneath the darkness.”

“Anyway.” Kylo rolled his eyes, weaving the small cylindrical shaped USB drive between his fingers. “This has all Snoke’s correspondence leading up to the Resistance bombing, and plenty of dirt afterwards. You need to get this to Poe tonight. I won’t be able to get you another copy, I risked everything just getting this one.”

Lor took it from him, appearing to marvel at the size of something so powerful.

“This is it, Lor, this drive has everything we need to take Snoke down.”

“Everything?”

“Video footage, photos, emails, for the last five years, the lot. It will ruin him.”

“And what about Kylo Ren? Where does he fit in all of this?”

Kylo got up, hands restless as he paced about the room. “I told you, I wasn’t involved in the Resistance bombing—but my hands aren’t clean.” He stopped, meeting Lor’s gaze. “I’m not hiding anything. If the First Order is to burn, Kylo Ren will burn with it.”

“Ben—” Lor leaned in, as though he would stand, but that bolt of pain showed in his face again and he clearly thought better of it. “You can still…“

“No.”

Kylo looked out into the street beyond, face resolute.

“It’s time to let the past die. I’m done with all of it. Snoke, the First Order, the Resistance. Everything.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re rushing this through now,” Lor said “It was safe when we were just trickling information to the press, pulling back when Snoke got suspicious. If this doesn’t go to plan, we’re both dead men.”

Kylo gazed out the window as cars streamed past, colours muted by the lace curtains. On the footpath, children rode their bikes. People. Peace. Life. It went on, regardless of what happened to him, or Lor.

“It’s not negotiable. I need to bring him down by Friday.”

“But why—”

“Because!” Kylo snapped. Because if he didn’t, how could he keep protecting her from Snoke? No. From Friday, that bastard had cleared her bookings for the rest of the week; apart from the odd session with Hux, the rest he had pencilled in for himself.

Not a fucking chance.

It was the least Kylo could do to make it up to her. For being the one that haunted her nightmares, and terrorised her daydreams. If he couldn’t tell her the truth about that night in Jakku, he would at least do this. To free her. To free them both.

“Very well,” Lor conceded. “I will get this to Poe tonight. It’s time we brought this bastard down once and for all.”

Kylo gave him a solemn nod and turned, throat dry, blinking. He worked to clear it, trying to hold back the unsettled feeling bubbling in his gut.

“There’s one more thing—” Kylo paused as he took a deep breath, forcing himself to look the old man in the eye. “After tonight, you need to leave. Snoke has a hit on you.”

“That old bastard’s had a hit on me since I left the First Order.”

“But this time—” Kylo clamped his jaw, rolling his lips together. Time was running out for Lor.

“Snoke will send you after me.” Lor guessed what he would say. “And Kylo Ren never misses.”

Kylo was silent, but his face gave away the truth, it always did.

“Maybe it’s time I started missing,” said Kylo.

“No.” Lor shook his head. “Not this time. If Snoke discovers you’re the leak, then any chance we had of taking the First Order down is over. You need to protect your position, play the game. It isn’t worth risking everything for—”

“I won’t let him find you.”

“And if he does? What will you do?”

Kylo stared at him, silent.

“You will need to do it, Ben.”

Kylo looked away, eye’s glassy.

“You will do it, won‘t you Ben?”

Lor reached forward, grasping his hand around Kylo’s wrist. His grip was firm, even though his end was coming.

“We have to see this through, Kylo. Who will be next, your father? Your mother? This girl Snoke’s toying with in front of you? The bastard will never stop until he’s removed everyone you’ve ever cared about.”

Kylo pinched the space between his eyes at the sharp pain that was building there, increasing every day.

“He wants you Kylo. You’ve always been a prize to him, something he can covet and keep and control. If he can’t have you, he will destroy you.”

Kylo fingered the keys in his pocket as he nodded a quiet goodbye.

“It’s all right, Ben.” Lor eventually stood again, grasping his shoulder, breaking him out of his reverie. “Whatever happens tonight, it will be all right.”

Kylo moved towards the door, silent and dark, a black shadow disappearing into nothingness. He gripped the front door handle, eyeing the moving hands of the grandfather clock. The noon chimes would sound within the minute. But he had an overwhelming urge to leave before the hour struck. He pulled the door open, just as the sound of the low, ominous toll of the clock chimes followed him out. They were like the strike of a death knell, forcing him to a fate he couldn’t escape.

The door closed behind him and the cries of the clock chased him into the daylight again. He keeled over, pushing his hands against his knees, trying to breathe, trying to think.

But all he could hear was the roar, loud and consuming, tearing at him now.

It was a feeling, a warning, that this plan of theirs was all going to hell.

Poe hesitated, scanning the room before continuing, “If things fall through with Lor—”

She buried her forehead in her hands, dreading what was coming next.

“Rey, this is important. If things fall through with Lor, I need another backup. Someone on the inside who can get close to Snoke and Kylo. Someone who can feed information to us without suspicion.”

Rey groaned and pushed her plate away, no longer hungry. “I knew you would ask me this.”

“People’s lives are on the line.”

She raised her voice. “ My life is on the line!”

Restaurant patrons froze, forks hovering mid-air to their mouths, looking at her, silent. She slid deeper into her chair, lowering her chin and rubbing her forehead as though she were pushing away a headache.

Poe smirked. “Are you trying to draw attention to us?”

“No,” she sulked, poking at the remains on her dinner plate like it were a dead carcass.

After a time, the diners resumed their chatter and returned to their lunch. Rey breathed a sigh of relief, careful not to draw more attention to them. There was no guarantee that there wasn’t a spy or friend of Snoke’s lurking around, listening.

“Poe, look, you seem like a nice guy. Fighting the good fight and all, but I need this job. If I lose it—”

She met his gaze, unflinching and thoughtful. Should she tell him everything? He might know who was holding her ransom with this crippling debt.

The scraping of plates, murmuring patrons and gentle jazz faded away, leaving a heavy silence between them.

“I owe some money, and someone’s after me to get it back,” she whispered.

Poe leaned in; that reporter’s spark shining in his dark, hungry eyes. “Who’s after you?”

“I don’t know his name or anything about him. He wore a black mask and black clothes.”

“Right,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. Thinking. “A man in black. Like in The Princess Bride ?”

“What?!” she shrieked. “Nothing like the Princess Bride. Have you even watched that movie?”

“Hey, I saw the trailer. Twice.”

“Well if you’d watched it you’d know he was trying to rescue her the entire time. He was the love interest. Forget it!” she snapped and grabbed her bag, pushing an uneaten dinner roll into the front pocket.

“Hold on, hold on! I’m sorry, Rey,” Poe pleaded, hand outstretched, patting the table before her. “Don’t go!”

She paused, still clutching her bag, itching to leave.

“Please, Rey,” Poe continued, his voice gentle, disarming. “I want to help you.”

“You can’t,” she breathed.

He took her hand in his own. It felt warm and rough, thick and gentle. “Try me, sunshine.”

Rey sighed.

“Okay… six years ago.” Her stomach churned at the memory of that time. “I went back to my home in Jakku…”

***

There she was again. Transported to the deserted apartment building, forgotten by everyone except the resident cockroaches moving in scattered swarms across the kitchen floor.

Rey had hauled her dog bed up from the street below, opened the windows, and cleared the cigarettes and beer bongs. Within a week, the chemical haze had disintegrated, and now she almost felt comfortable.

Her late parent’s apartment was scorching in summer. Heat rose through every storey, making her little spot like an oven during the night and even more unbearable in the day. The cockroaches dwindled in number but no matter what she did, there were always flies; buzzing and bouncing around the rooms clumsily.

But, it was home.

The days were easy, filled with scavenging and hunting for treasures she could swap for food. But the nights were something else. The abandoned building had become a hive for squatters; she could hear them through the walls, shouting, fighting, humping. Sometimes, they tried to ransack her room. Banging at the door with broken bottles, asking her to come out. She had bolted the door and hammered planks across the doorframe, barriers to stop them getting in. But there was always the fear it wouldn’t be enough to hold them back.

And it wasn’t.

***

“The chair!” a voice hissed. “Tie her to the chair.”

She scrambled, arms and legs flailing. She lashed out with her nails, kicking at whatever flesh she could find, even biting when she had the chance. The fight was short-lived and pathetic; in under a minute, the cold steel of the chair was hard against her back.

“Stop!” she cried. “I‘m just a scavenger. Can‘t you see I don‘t have anything?”

A man in black towered over her. He was over six feet tall with broad shoulders, and while a balaclava hid his face, she could clearly see his eyes like pieces of coal. Cold and empty.

“Quiet,” he hissed, pinning her hands down with his forearms while he tightened cable ties around her wrists.

“Last month you came into a sum of money…”

“No,” she whimpered. The money she had gotten for selling her body. The money that Unkar Plutt had stolen from her the same day. “I don’t have it!”

He came closer, voice calm and deadly. She felt his gaze all over, studying her from top to bottom, assessing her. A wooden club tapped against his leather palm in a slow staccato rhythm.

“She’s lying.” Another man stepped out of the shadows, also masked, but with fire-red tendrils of hair poking out from beneath his balaclava. “I just got off the phone with him. She has the money to cover the parent’s debt.”

Her assailant stepped forward again, squatting before her, resting his heavy elbows upon her knees. He raised her chin with his club, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze.

“I know you have the money.”

She shook her head again, but he pressed the club hard against her.

“And now you‘re going to give it to me.“

She kicked her legs at him, aiming for his groin, but missed, hitting his shin instead. His eyes twitched with pain, and he wrenched her hands forward, almost ripping her from the chair.

To fight or take flight? There was no longer a question.

She riled. An inferno of heat exploded in Rey’s body. She’d had enough. So far she had been abandoned, abused, taken advantage of and now assaulted. Enough!

She drew the saliva from her mouth and spat at him with as much force as she could muster, her spittle landing in his eye.

He wiped it away, and she smirked.

“I’m not giving you anything!”

“We’ll see.” He stood, turning away from her as he tapped a number into his phone, bringing it to his ear.

The room fell into silence, the subdued ringer, the only noise in this vacuum of sound. The red-haired man paced in front of her, while the other men anchored around the perimeter fixed their eyes on her like hungry dogs waiting for the kill.

“You were right. The parents died of a drug overdose a year ago,” the man in black spoke quietly into the phone. “The girl’s here like you expected. What do you want me to do with her?”

Silence.

He nodded, covering the mouthpiece to speak to her.

“Is your name Kira?”

“Piss off,” she hissed.

The man gave her a wry smile. “Yeah, it’s Kira.”

He walked around the room, murmuring into the phone inaudibly. At one point, he walked straight over her bed on the floor, tripping on it. He kicked it out of his path, and then paused, looking back at her.

“You got a dog?”

Rey shook her head, brows knitting in confusion until she realised what he was talking about. Her cheeks burned as she looked at the dog bed, her bed.

He stared at her, almost like he knew. She didn‘t know where to look, because now he studied her with a gravity that made her even more unsettled than the cold darkness in his eyes.

“Right.” He held the phone out to his partner. “He wants to speak with you.”

The red-haired man snatched the phone. “Yes, I’m here,” he said with a pompous voice, too grandiose and out-of-place for a common thug. He walked out with the phone, leaving Rey alone with her assailant and his silent disciples.

She tried to quiet the threatening thoughts in her mind, her imagination running wild, picturing what a gang of criminals might do to her alone, in her apartment, with no one to help her. She closed her eyes, praying to whatever God was listening to her, to get her out of this alive.

When she opened them again, the man in black was right there in front of her, squatting, in her space. She could smell the spicy aroma of his aftershave and see the bags under his eyes.

When he kneeled this close to her, the cruellest thing was that those eyes were not un kind—in fact, they were almost sensitive.

But there was the lie. For this person was dangerous, a harbinger of all her worst nightmares.

“How old are you?” he asked, voice quiet. She would almost have thought him gentle, had he not been holding a weapon at his side.

She gathered herself, pushing back the tide of terror threatening to overwhelm her.

“I’m s—sixteen.”

He turned away, mouth furrowed.

He went to speak, but just then the door thumped open and the redhead stormed in with a satiated grin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the man in black shouted, as his companion held out his phone and hit record.

“The boss wants to watch you work.”

“Turn it off,” he growled.

“No can do. He wants you to break her arms, just to see if it will loosen her tongue.”

Rey’s blood ran cold, and the world slowed into some terrible horror film. The man in black marched to her, gripping her left arm between the fingers of his black gloves.

“Speak,” he ordered, squeezing.

Tears welled, burning her eyes, she couldn’t hold them back. It was too much, the fear, the pain…

“I can’t—- I don’t…” she stammered.

“Tell us where the money is!” The grip on her arm grew tighter, bruising her flesh.

Her tears came faster now, hot torrents streaming down her cheeks.

It was too much.

She could barely see, vision blurred by those hot salty tears, but she could still make out the baton held back and ready to swing against her arm. And then he crushed his fingers around her tighter, so hard she thought her bones would break.

“Stop!” she screamed. “Stop, it hurts too much.”

He faltered, letting her go. She crouched over as much as her bindings allowed, heaving sobs rushing from her chest, as the men who had watched silently from the edges sniggered.

“Please,” she whimpered. “I don’t have the money. I never had it.”

The heaving breaths would not subside and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the crack that would splinter her bones.

A beat of wind rushed past her and every muscle in her body clenched as she waited for impact. There was a loud crash, followed by a ruckus of yelling and swearing. A wall mirror shattered, shards of it cascading around her.

Rey lifted her head, confused. He hadn’t hit her.

Another smash, but this time she had seen the moment the man in black had raised a chair above his head, throwing it across the room and smashing a coffee table, destroying a thousand-piece puzzle she had been constructing.

“Speak, or it will be your head next!” he roared, with a voice as wild and untamed as a feral beast.

“I don’t—” she sobbed, her voice coming in waves of sound and silence. He was going to kill her. This monster would be the last person she would ever see. Even as her tears came, he smashed his club around the room, forcing holes within the wall, destroying pictures, every last thing she had ever owned.

Rey watched them all fall in pieces at her feet.

“Are you quite finished?” the red-headed man sneered at him, holding the phone up to get a better angle of her attacker.

“I’ll make her talk,” the man in black growled.

“I knew you wouldn’t be man enough to follow through. Do it.” He turned his rat-shaped eyes intently toward Rey. “If that doesn’t loosen her tongue then she can pay off her debt in the brothel. We can all help her, lads, can’t we?”

The men cheered. Rey tried to swallow, but her mouth felt like flint. The only one who hadn’t cajoled was the man in black. But his expression was different, fiercely intent and no less terrifying.

Rey’s heart dropped. Was this what her life would be reduced to? To spend her life as a whore, without love, without a home, a slave—

She was jolted out of her thoughts as the chair she was tied to was dragged backwards, the sound of metal screeching across the tile floor. All she could do was look back at the surprised eyes of the men who watched her being dragged away.

Alone, with this psycho.

She squeezed her eyelids shut. Preparing herself for whatever was coming next.

“Open your eyes.” His voice was like steel, firm and low, cutting sharp in the scorched air.

She did. They were alone in the kitchen.

And he had her knives.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A blast of hot wind blew in from the open window as he unrolled a small bundle of Brazilian knives. She had kept those on the bench for cooking. Meticulously, he slid one out, flicking the blade, testing the sharpness by pressing the point through the finger of his glove, making it bleed.

He came to her with silent footsteps, sucking the blood from his finger. He pulled her chair in front of the window with a rough jolt.

From here she could see the street, five storeys below, empty and black. She thought about screaming.

He placed a hand on either side of the armrest, and he peered at her again, biting his lip.

“You know I can take whatever I want.”

Rey swallowed. Her tears were dry now, courage resurfacing. “That’s no less than I would expect from a monster in a mask.”

“A monster?” He stepped back.

He lifted his hands, the black leather gloves pulling up the base of his balaclava. Rey’s panic increased tenfold; everyone knew an attacker who was willing to betray their own identity was going to go the whole way.

He pulled it up over his chin, revealing a narrow jaw and then…

He stopped, before she had seen anything, as if suddenly changing his mind.

An ambiguous looked passed between them before he went back to the knives, placing one in each hand.

“I never miss,” he said calmly, lifting a filleting knife up for her to see.

He flung it at her and it speared past her head, smashing through the windows and clattering onto the dilapidated fire escape outside.

Rey shrieked, and he threw another, cutting through the wind beside her ear on the other side. More glass.

She had no more words; they were drowned by her sobs. She wanted her mother. Her drugged-up, absent mother. Anyone—anyone else in the world other than him!

“You need to learn how to fight,” he said surely.

The words surprised her, but only for a moment because then he slammed the wooden baton against one leg of her chair, the force of it flipping her face down against the tiles.

She lifted her body, just enough as to splay her hands against the cutting board on the floor. He grabbed her fingers, forcing them flat on the board. She fought against him, trying to clench her fist shut.

“Spread them.”

She shook her head, tears spilling on the white tiles.

“I said spread your fucking fingers!”

She obeyed, waiting for the pain of losing them.

“Bring her back in here,” the redhead’s voice came from the other room. “Or do I need to come into that fucking roach-infested kitchen?”

“Keep still,” the man in black whispered, eyes narrowed, knife poised.

“Please!” she cried once more.

“Still!” he roared, and she closed her eyes, keeping her fingers as steady as she could.

There was the clean-cut sound of a knife slicing downwards and Rey jumped as it landed with a thud.

She opened her eyes to see a silver blade wavering between her index and middle finger. And then his feet, perched either side of her, crouched down, breath pressing against her ear, dark wet hair falling onto her cheek.

“I suggest you think very hard about what you will do next. You have two minutes.”

***

“Rey, I—” Poe stammered, his face the colour of curdled milk. “What happened next?”

“He left me there,” she said, taking a shaking breath. “As soon as he was gone, I used the knife to cut the ties on my wrists and then my feet. I jumped out to the fire escape before he came back. The bloody thing almost collapsed. I ran and ran. I don’t know if he saw me go. I didn’t look back.”

Poe bit his lip, eyebrows knitted, like a thought was building that he wasn’t ready to speak yet.

“And then what?”

Rey smiled, face wistful, as she remembered the moment Maz had found her curled up behind a dumpster. The barely-there woman with dark skin and large thick glasses crawled down on her hands and knees to get her. She never did ask Maz how she managed to find her there.

“A woman named Maz Kanata found me, she has a home…"

“…for disadvantaged kids,” Poe finished the sentence, face brightening as he spoke. “Yeah, I know Maz. We go way back.”

Rey took a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. Retelling the full story for the first time had felt cathartic. But she was surprised to find her eyes were still wet with tears.

“How do you know her?”

“I used to work as press secretary with a close friend of hers, Senator Leia Organa-Solo.”

“Senator Organa? That’s big time, Poe,” Rey gushed, before blushing at how pathetic it sounded. “She’s practically a hero.”

“She’s a good woman. Our families have been friends for years,” he said. “Small world, hey?”

Rey nodded, a little more impressed by him.

“I thought Maz only took on younger kids though?” Poe asked.

“Normally she does,” Rey said. “But I think I looked too pathetic. She was amazing, she put me through school during the day and tutored me at night. On the weekend she arranged private self-defence lessons at Skywalker Academy—”

She was rambling, relishing the happy memories that followed. She hadn’t even noticed the way Poe scrunched his face in thought and worry.

“Rey, who is your debt to?”

She shifted. “I—I don’t know.”

“Have you got anything, a business name, email, phone number, anything?” His voice was urgent, pressed.

She shook her head, but then remembered. Fishing around in her bag, she grabbed her wallet and pulled out a crumpled-up note

“All I have is an account number.” She pushed it across the table. “Do you think you can find out who owns it?”

“It’s not much to go on, but maybe.” He pocketed the piece of paper, looking over to the door and eventually behind Rey with a half-smile.

Rey started, feeling two warm hands on her shoulders.

Finn!

She jumped up and gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Finn laughed, his broad lips and wide smile settling the fear and worry in her heart.

“I missed you too, peanut!” he joked. “Poe, I have no idea where you’ve put your dictaphone, mate.”

“Oh.” Poe smiled guiltily and exchanged glances with Rey. He stood, leaving a wad of cash on the table. “Not to worry, I’ll find it somewhere. By the way, your girl’s going to work with us on the Snoke story.”

“No, I didn’t say…”

Poe stood suddenly, eyes fixed on some point outside.

“Poe?” Rey asked, but he was transfixed.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Poe said to himself. “It’s Ben.”

“Who—”

Poe dashed out of the cafe without a word.

“Well, that wasn’t weird,” Finn said, grabbing the files and papers Poe had left sprawled all over the table.

Rey smiled. “Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

Finn pulled her close, beaming with excitement.

“Oh my God, peanut! I’m so excited you’re going to work with us.” They walked towards the door, Finn’s arm resting on her shoulders. “I told him you were bloody brilliant. You won’t regret this.”

Rey blushed, punching him gently to stop. Up ahead Poe was waving his hands wildly. Then his booming voice made almost every passerby stop and gawk at him as he bellowed, “Ben Solo, over here!”

In the distance, a tall, dark-haired man, in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, froze on the footpath.

He had his back to her, and even though he looked different, polished and pristine, Rey knew at once.

It was him.

And that meant she held the most dangerous secret of all.

The real identity of Kylo Ren.

#reylo #reylo fan fic #modern reylo au #protective kylo ren #kylo ren x rey #reylo fan fic rec

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howt0disappear · 6 years ago

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Bu sefer de çok bariz olucak kitabın ismi buz ve ateşin şarkısı diye mi jonu oturtmadınız tahta lan geri zekalılar??? Grey worm kim aq siz ne salak ne aptal insanlarsınız drogon yaksaydı da görmeseydim şu sezonu

#jon tahta anca kendi istemezse oturmaz ulan siz ne salak insanlarsınız

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muthary · 6 years ago

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Apprentice Questionnaire: Diorbhail

Find the original questionnaire here. Answers to 4, 25, 26, 27, and 28 are here and here. Under a cut because this is still pretty lengthy!

1. Where is their favorite place to hang out in Vesuvia? Why?

They enjoy anywhere they can take a long nap, or just sit and think. Mostly at home, in their room. They’ve fallen asleep in a forest or two, even. They just enjoy the quiet, and sounds they’re used to constitute as that. They also appreciate consistent vibes, since they’re sensitive to shifts in energy, so being in their room lets their aura bounce back at them. The forest has a similar effect.

2. How does your apprentice feel when they are called a witch? (Offended? Shrugs it off? Likes it?)

It’s what they refer to themself as. Culturally, the term magician or sorceress doesn’t feel right. So they aren’t particularly incensed when someone else refers to them as such, but when someone says it with the intent of it being an insult? Diorbhail isn’t exactly sure why, but they feel the need to bolt. They have a hard time feeling safe in that sort of situation. Looking at you, Valerius.

3. Do they have a familiar? Why did you choose that animal? How did they meet?

They do, but they were separated from him when the came to Vesuvia. That, and Diorbhail doesn’t consider him so much as a familiar as they do consider him just family. He’s a direwolf named Fenrir who Diorbhail found, along with rest of his orphaned siblings, when wandering the forest behind their childhood home. From then on out, Diorbhail tried their best to take care of them, and when they inevitably outgrew them, the wolves began taking care of them with Fenrir being their closest companion. Neither of them knew what a familiar was!

I chose a dire wolf (and a pack of them, at that), because Diorbhail’s design and abilities were somewhat based off of the Úlfhéðnar and Beserkers of old Norse tales. The wolves themselves are based off of (you got it) Fenrir, as well as Skoll, Hati, Geri, and Freki. There’s also a unique dynamic I thought would be nice for Diorbhail! Fenrir and his siblings represent the most wild parts about Diorbhail, the parts that have stuck around through all their life and make up a huge part of their personality.

5. What is their opinion of each of the courtiers?

Valerius

Surprisingly, they don’t hold Valerius with the most contempt they could. Granted, he’s a conniving bastard who drenched them in wine when he first met them after trying to continuously embarrass them in front of Nadia, but they don’t consider him a threat. They never did. They forgave him in the Hierophant’s realm because they figured, for all the show and condescension, he was probably just a fool in a man’s shoes. They wouldn’t play chess with him, though. They don’t have that much patience.

Vlastomil

Diorbhail can’t stand to be around him for too long. He reminds them of the worms he love to chitter on about, slimy and wriggly. They don’t have an in-depth opinion about him because they try not to get into situations where they have to be around him.

Valdemar

He makes them incredibly uncomfortable. Diorbhail has a special relationship with death in that they don’t fear it all too much (it’s pain that terrifies them), since their beliefs are very Norse in origin (Ragnarok and the Völuspá and all that). But Valdemar, and the way they treat death like a trivial joke, something for them to toy with, to bring pain to others with... they hate it. They make Diorbhail incredibly uneasy, if not entirely disgusted. They find Valdemar terribly disrespectful.

Vulgora

Obnoxious. Diorbhail doesn’t care for their bloodthirsty attitude that has no end. They roll their eyes every time Vulgora yells about fighting. Diorbhail is waiting for the day Vulgora attempts to turn their wrath on them; Diorbhail is getting more and more ready to put Vulgora in their place with each passing day.

Volta

Diorbhail enjoys Volta the most. She’s meek and adorable in a scuttling, sniveling, baby-ish sort of way. Diorbhail never thought Volta was up to no good, not like the other courtiers. They particularly enjoyed it when Volta lit up at the sight of those tiny sandwiches they brought her during the Masquerade, even if they did feel bad about why they brought those snacks in the first place. Diorbhail sympathizes a lot with Volta, and her constant, insatiable hunger brought on by her... condition. They know too well what starvation feels like, and what it can do to someone.

6. What did they do while at the clinic?

Diorbhail, for the most part, offered immediate comfort. They brewed tea, crushed aromatic herbs, and lit various resins to ease the pains and aches of the patients. They weren’t patient enough to sit and toil over possible cures, not like Julian. They wanted to learn, but the patients and their immediate needs always took precedence, especially the elderly and the young. Diorbhail often sat and listened to the old-timers, who they knew simply wanted an ear for the night, and the patient company. They’d tuck in the younglings and recite to them stories from their youth. Often, they’d end up falling asleep with the children leaning on them. And with Julian always tucked away into his office, it’s no wonder they got sick.

Once they regain their memories, they can’t say they regret what they did.

7. What are their tasks around the shop? What can they make?

They were the main clerk, since Asra would handle the readings and then... nap. The shop was owned by their aunt so it was known for Southern remedies and folk magic, and they were able to harmlessly do whatever wild magic they knew without lifting to many brows-- old magic is niche enough where no one would care to question it, just so long as it worked. Diorbhail did a lot of plant-based spells, charms, tinctures, tonics, potions, etc etc. Other than that sort of work, generally, they were in charge of regular cleaning (energy and plain dust), placing new charms and barriers, and rebalancing the building. Making dinner and tea also fell on them quite often too, but they didn’t mind.

8. Describe their daily routine (wake up, chores, tasks, visiting who, etc)

They sleep very soundly, but don’t go to bed on time, so their nights often extend into the early morning. They usually wake up around nine or ten, having bathed the night before with handmade soaps and oils. Their hair usually only gets styled every couple days since their braids and plaits are meant to hold up to a great amount of activity. Makeup is usually done through quick glamours that take no time at all to do. They wear a lot of layers, but getting dress doesn’t take as much time as hair does. Breakfast is usually a glass of water with lemon and an omelette with rosemary and basil. Sometimes they’ll splurge and eat some fruit!

They usually leave chores for the night, so they’ll head straight down to the front end of the shop and open up for the day. Lunch breaks mean restocking whatever’s out at the marketplace and stopping for some pumpkin bread. They don’t visit many people aside from the baker! They’ll head back to the shop after an hour, usually, and keep going until a little after sunset, at which point they’ll close, bathe, eat supper, and stay up reading/writing in their grimoire. They pray before they go to bed and set a saucer of cream and a slice of that day’s bread out on their windowsill before retiring.

9. What Major Arcana would they be closest to? Is their a Minor Arcana card that suits them more?

The Major Arcana they associate with the most is The Empress. She symbolizes an older entity, the mother of the earth, and brings the recycling of energy at her most tempestuous. Diorbhail has a lifelong association and dependence on nature at it’s most raw, and so they feel incredibly drawn to the Empress. As for the Minor Arcana, it would probably be the Seven of Cups.

10. Describe their magical abilities. What are they best at? Worst?

Diorbhail’s magic is terribly unrefined and often reigned in by sheer force of will and intense visualization, and a good metaphor for it is probably just successfully breaking in a stallion. Old magic is a lot of this, and is often because those who practice it are more in tune to natural energies that created magic in the first place. Diorbhail is most in tune with the earth in terms of elements, and they incorporate herbs, woods, flowers, stones, and bones into their magic. They happen to be adept at protective charms, divination, summoning, and offensive spells. They aren’t as good as transmutations or spells that require precise steps. They find it hard to focus on that sort of thing!

11. How do they get along with all the animals in the game? (Faust, Malak, Chandra, Pepi, Inanna, Camio, Melchior and Mercedes)

Faust

Excellently, of course! Diorbhail loves it when Faust decides to wrap around them and hitch a ride. Diorbhail is incredibly patient with her and Asra often finds Kai hunched over their work as Faust slithers all over them-- through their hair, under their draping clothes, and loosely about their neck. Diorbhail hardly doesn’t flinch when she decides to flop on top of their head after trying to reach a higher shelf or beam, or when Faust pokes their lips with her snout because she can’t hold steady as she tries to investigate the scent of lunch coming from their mouth. When the Devil took Faust, Diorbhail immediately dove for the deal after he promised to release Faust if they did-- they couldn’t stand to see her hurt, ever.

Malak

An odd relationship characterized by wordless interactions and an odd degree of trust that developed out of nowhere. Diorbhail naturally communicates well with certain types of animals well enough without having to work for it-- dogs and corvids, for example (a nod to Odin and his accompanying animals, Geri and Freki, and Hugin and Munin). They like to offer trinkets they find, or pieces of bread they have, to Malak. They spy the intelligence in his fathomless eyes, and the old soul in them is convinced that Malak could be a divine messenger. They’ll often spot him and beckon him over so that he may perch on their shoulder-- Malak’s weight comforts them, as well as the usefulness that comes with having his extra pair of eyes with them while they trek more dangerous parts of Vesuvia-- or anywhere, really.

Chandra

Diorbhail doesn’t have a particular opinion on Chandra. They know she exists, but they don’t... care too much. Honestly, Diorbhail thinks Chandra is pretty for an owl, but a little too... fancy, I suppose? Not like the owls they know, that's for sure.

Pepi

Well enough. Diorbhail is more of a dog person for obvious reasons, but they coo to Pepi to ask if they can pet her. They’re always a little downtrodden if they get ignored by the little cat. They do think she’s cute, though.

Camio

Camio is Diorbhail’s least favorite. He's nice to look at but annoying. They rarely curse at an animals, but they’ll make the exception for Camio. It doesn’t help that Camio is obviously just like a certain someone who also grates on Diorbhail’s nerves.

Melchior and Mercedes

After the first night when Diorbhail forced these two into turning tail and submitting with just their stare, they have a touch and go relationship with Mercedes and Melchior. They, too, remind Diorbhail of the odious Lucio, but not enough to make them wrinkle their nose when they come snuffling around. They’ll give those pups the pomegranates they desire though, and smiles when the hop around before tearing into the fruit.

12. Did they have a certain opinion about the palace and court before the events of the game? Did it change?

They were intimidated by the concept of visiting, but mostly they weren’t the most avid fan of the palace and court. They can’t stand those in higher classes who do nothing to help those whose heads they trample just by existing, and before knowing the situation with Nadia and her courtiers, they assumed Nadia and her court were no-good snobs who weren’t able to look much further than their own noses. That held true for some of the courtiers, but they were happy to learn that Nadia was much different from their preconceived notions on her.

13. How do they feel about traveling in the realms? (Nervous? Excited? Other?)

They’ve been traveling between the veil for a while. Their home country is also inhabited by otherworldly spirits and beings, the Aos Sí, and they've been in close contact with these beings ever since they could walk. They’re also spiritually sensitive and can see souls of the departed, whether on this side or the other of the hedge that separates the living from the dead, so, no, they don’t have many feelings regarding traveling realms. It’s just something they do sometimes, with Asra or not.

14. Where is their least favorite place in Vesuvia? Why?

The dungeons. The echoes of lives lost, not at to the plague, but to Valdemar’s careless hand, is suffocating and makes their lungs feel like they’re about to pop. Those energies make their entire body hurt and their head go fuzzy-- it’s the worst they felt since they died. They’ve barely managed to hold back tears down there. At least the Lazaret lacks a roof.

15. How did your apprentice feel about Asra leaving all the time? Taking care of them?

They aren’t happy when he leaves, but they don’t think that they’re too important that they should bring it up to them. They figure he probably has important things to do that aren’t any of their business. It doesn’t help how lonely they feel, though-- they are a pack animal at heart. But, at the same time, sometimes Asra can stifle them with how much he dotes. They try to steer him in the direction of a reasonable middle ground, and that usually means that they give him as much attention as their emotional capacity allows for that day.

16. Name one thing your apprentice wants to see happen, or say to someone.

They want to find to find a mutual belonging with Muriel. They resonate with him already-- he’s similar to how they once were when they were first revived. To how they were when they were younger. Sort of like how they are now. They feel drawn to him but with no way to properly express that to him, they just hope one day he’ll catch on.

17. What is the outcome you see happening for your apprentice and their significant other?

Visiting their home country. Meeting their foster family. Finally setting old demons straight after they regain all of their memory and then settling down in a quiet cottage, out of the city and back in the wilds that they love. Maybe one day with a little family of their own and a reputation as the people of the wood who will never turn out a weary traveler.

18. What would drive your apprentice so far as to strike a bargain?

Losing the few people that they’ve allowed close to them, those who they truly love platonically or otherwise. That would truly break Diorbhail and drive them to take any means necessary to right what they perceive as a wrong, or put them out of their own misery. Or, if they believe that it would prevent harm from coming to their loved ones altogether, then they’ll dive to sacrifice their own well-being.

19. At this point in the game, do they care more about recovering the rest of their memories or living as they are now?

They want to remember. There’s always a gnawing at the back of their head, and they know they can be better if they just remember. They’re sick of feeling helpless because they only have three years worth of memories, most of them being of Asra and the shop. It’s no way to live, for Diorbhail. They probably won’t think this way for very much longer, however.

20. Would they be up for another Masquerade despite all that has happened? New outfit theme?

So long as they don’t have to keep running between rooms, then yes. With a quiet corner, good food, and night sky full of lights, they’d be perfectly content. As for their outfit, they’d probably go in a costume tied to their ancestry, and to the general theme of a ram, the star they were born under and the face of one of their gods.

21. What is their first reaction seeing their LI cry?

Initially, they’d hesitate to get close. Their first thought is to think of what they would like their LI to do, if the situation was reversed, but that’ll get tossed quickly in favor of Diorbhail rushing over to hug their LI. They wipe their LI’s tears and whisper affirmations and comforting things. This always ends with Diorbhail acting as a big spoon and running their fingers through their LI’s hair, and eventually falling asleep there.

22. Are they scared of what they have learned? Of the powers they have developed?

Not at all. Maybe of what may happen if the wrong people learn about what they could do, but they’re never afraid of themself. For them, each new ability is one more means with which to protect their family and help those in need.

23. Do they like snow? Have they seen it before?

Given that their home country is very nearly always covered in snow, yes, they have seen it before, but no, they aren’t particularly fond of it. They associate it with terrible things from their childhood, and doesn’t make for a very hospitable environment once it falls thick enough.

24. A magic lamp is found in the shop, and a genie inside gives them three wishes. What are they?

Diorbhail would send that genie right back inside for later use. They have no clue what they’d wish for until they needed it. No wishes for wealth, love, or fame. They’d probably tote the lamp around until they found themself in a pickle and used the genie as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Like wishing the Devil would forget about merging the realms and take a nap.

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