Alex leaned back into Cait's sofa, balancing a bottle of water on her full stomach. Mexican food wrappers and boxes littered the coffee table, the pilot's second, half-finished burrito sitting, victorious, nearby her. "Connor asked me to go over." Casual talk had been the theme of the day but, she thought it was time to delve into the grungier stuff. "I told him I couldn't."

"Good," announcing around a mouthful of cheesy nachos. Manners have gone out the window since the cravings kicked in. Once she'd swallowed, Cait fixed Alex with a look, lips pursed. "He's unstable, Alex. I mean, threatening to kill himself? What the hell was that all about?"

Alex groaned, rolling her eyes. The bruises weren't so bad today, lighter than they had been the day before. It was a reminder that she'd need to go get them reestablished soon. It was her way of dealing. "I don't know. I mean, he's never done that before. Even when I left, he didn't threaten to..." She bit her lip. Then, after a moment, "I told him it was the most selfish thing to do. Not only to me, but to Eden. You don't just use your Jaeger to commit suicide."

"I don't think for one second that he wanted to commit suicide." Caitlin shifted, tucking one of her legs beneath her. "He just wants your attention. You've finally started to move on and he doesn't like it. He's...throwing a tantrum like a four year old. And I'm glad you're not falling for it. You deserve someone nice like Bashir. I mean, I don't really know him at all, but you know what I mean!"

She gave a small smirk. "Cris said the same thing, about the tantrum." There was a reason why all of them were friends. A reminder like that was nice every once in awhile. Resting her head back on the arm of the couch, she stared up at that ceiling. "You know, just a few months ago, I would have fallen for it. I would have run after him instead of just calling him on the phone. I know where Eden's docked. I could have gone there and stopped him, face to face. But I didn't." Pause, lips pursing. "God, it makes my stomach sick." Cracking open the bottle, she glanced at Cait, an eyebrow raised. "I don't know if 'nice' is the right word to use. I'm not exactly the sweetest peach in the bunch." Sip. "He is pretty hot though." Grin. "And yeah, nice."

"Alright, fine. Nice is not the word. We'll use...adult. Grown-up. Someone with mental capabilities higher than a toddler." She snorted and popped another cheese covered chip in her mouth. Munching thoughtfully, Cait's head tipped to the side. "And yeah, he is hot. Don't tell Deacon I think so, though."

She grinned, which broke out into a laugh. "Don't worry, I won't. The last thing I want is to have him get all angry about my potential new boyfriend." Another sip, eyebrows waggling. When the bottle declined, she rested her head at an awkward angle, peering at Cait. "It's kind of sad though, you know. I've hated Connor for so long for what he did, but I never thought I'd be so disgusted by something he's done." Teeth scraped her lip again. "And yet a part of me still wants to go to him." A hand lifted, palm toward the brunette. "I'm not going to. I'm just saying."

"Better not. I'll have Cris kidnap you and we'll tie you up in my spare bedroom if you ever tried to go back." Winking, Cait finished off her chips and brushed her hands off over her plate. "I think that's just the familiarity talking, though. He's all you've ever known. He's comfortable, in a sense. Know what I mean?"

"The sex is incredible. Can you imagine the best sex ever then put the Drift on top of it?" She watched her friend shift about, jealous. Her stomach was so full, she could have hibernated for a month. "I've only ever been slightly compatible with one other person other than Connor. How am I supposed to get that with someone else? It's like adding a whole other layer to my dating requirements, and I'm already flailing around, helpless."

"I've told you before, this Drift thing should absolutely not be mixed with relationships. No one should ever know a person that intimately. There is supposed to be some mystery. You're just going to have to learn how to navigate the dating pool like the rest of us measly normal people. If I can do it, so can you."

That made her frown. "That's not what I was trying to say, Cait." Pushing herself upright, she started to wrap the tinfoil around her leftovers, stuffing it into a paper bag. After a few more minutes of cleaning up, "I called my dad."

It annoyed Alex that Cris looked down on mundanes. It annoyed Cait that Alex was so vehemently against being seen as mundane. What was wrong with mundane? She helped with the clean up in silence, stewing a little until Alex spoke up.

Trash in hand, she wandered into the kitchen to throw it away and then returned with her hands in her pockets. "How did that go?"

"I haven't talked to him yet." She had finished putting all of the leftover food into bags and boxes, set hers aside and piled whatever would be left for Cait into a miniature tower. She stood with it in hand. "I left him a voicemail to call me. I'm surprised he didn't right away." A small grin, she passed by Cait to put the food in the fridge. "I just need to know what's going on. With the way that Connor was talking, my father's turned into a monster." Walking back into the living room, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I can't see that happening."

She followed Alex into the kitchen and leaned on the island counter. "Does Connor know you called him? Could be that he is trying to drive a wedge between you guys. Pit you against him or something?"

"No, he doesn't know." Leaning back against a counter across from her, arms folding. "I don't know why he would." Nervously, the thumb and finger of one hand started picking at each others cuticles. "I'm beginning to wonder if that time he tried piloting Eden alone did more to his head than anyone thought."

"That's entirely possible." She always started to get a little lost when they got on the topic of Drifting. Sure, she'd seen the movie, but Cait would never fully understand it. Then she shrugged. "But who cares? I don't think you should worry about that. You need to worry about you. He's the only one responsible for his actions."

"I still care about him, Cait." A shoulder rolled in some sort of shrug. "No matter how much I might hate him and what he's become, he was still my co-pilot. We went through a lot together. I can't just leave him to get taken away by whoever, and who knows what would happen to Eden then." They were creeping close to some badlands. She shook her head and sighed. "It'll work out. I just have to keep from sleeping with him." Uneven grin.

"Well I didn't mean forget about him and never talk to him again. I just mean you can't let him keep sucking you back in. Employ the buddy system if you have to. Cris and I will take shifts. If you have to go see Connor, take one of us along." Caitlin smirked.

"How's the fresh engagement going?" Better topic.

Caitlin put her head in her hands, then, and sighed. The topic was on her now. Joy. "It's going. Nothing's happened...it's only been a couple days. I'm still trying to take it all in, ya know?" Looking up, the brunette managed to put a small smile on her face. "I love him. I'd love to get married to him once he gets his shit straight. But this other thing..."

Her mouth opened but snapped shut. The glance to her belly told that she understood, after it taking a second to dawn. "You still don't know what you want to do." Statement, not question, although Cait could correct her at any time.

Brown hair swayed as she shook her head. "It makes me sick to think about. Growing up, I didn't want anything else. I've always wanted to get married young and have kids. But now that I've got one? It just doesn't feel right. I feel scared. Unsettled. Unprepared." They'd had this discussion many times. Cait was so thankful that Alex was a good friend to let her vent her feelings over and over.

At least she was good at something. "You've got time." Bumping herself forward, she, too, leaned on the small island, reaching out to touch the brunette's wrist gently. "You can still change your mind if keeping it doesn't feel right. It'll be tough, but you can do it. I'm going to be here for you no matter what." Reassuring grin.

Her eyes, which looked a little watery now, dropped to Alex's fingers on her wrist. "I know you are. And I'm so thankful for that. You have no idea. The big problem here is that Deacon wants the kid. He was appalled when I mentioned possibly getting rid of it. If I get an abortion, he's going to leave me."

Her lips instantly grew thin. "He can't hold that over you. That's unfair. That's like Connor trying to hold suicide over my head so that I'll go back to him." Fire shot through her veins but the squeeze on Cait's wrist was surprisingly tame. "I know you love him, but you need to do what's best for you. And the baby."

Alex wasn't saying anything she didn't already know. It was nice to hear it out loud, though. "I know. I just don't know that I want a baby this young anymore." A long but quiet sigh leaked out of her lung. "You're right, though. I've got time. I don't have to obsess over this right now. I'm only 8 weeks. Still have a month to make up my mind.? But if she was truthful with herself, she?d already made the decision. She was just trying to work up the courage to go through with it; to find a way to keep Deacon from knowing the truth.

"Right." Another light squeeze. "Listen to yourself and do what's right for you. To hell with everyone else." She tried a comforting smile for her friend.

"How's Cris doing?" Because it was time for a subject change. She didn't like to dwell on the parasite for longer than necessary. Pushing off of the counter, she straightened and rolled her shoulders. "I haven't talked to him since that day he decided Melanie was coming along on our camping trip."

She felt guilty. Not for Cait's baby problem, but because she had talked to Cris many times since then. "He's good." Pushing upright, she ran both hands back through her style-less hair. "From what I can tell, anyway. Nothing's really changed for him. We're going to be fighting together at the pits again next week." Where it would probably make the brunette frown, the blonde smiled.

"It feels like we haven't all hung out in forever." Because they hadn't. "I was really looking forward to this trip together. Did he say anything to you about it? Did you tell him he's a moron?"

"Not yet." She had been too busy being mad at him at the time. Dropping her hands to her sides. "I feel bad. Mel actually seems pretty excited about it. She mentions it to me every time I see her."

"Meh." The brunette made a face like sour grapes. "Let's invite Bashir."

She gave a laugh. "Actually, I think he would go." Her nose scrunched up a little bit. "Is it weird that I hope he and Cris get along really well? He so needs a guy friend. I'm not the best substitute." Little wiggle of her brow.

"He really does. And, honestly, I think as much as I'd love for it to happen, Deacon's just not going to be a part of the group. Bashir seems nice. I think he and Cris would get along nicely. Have they met?" She couldn't remember.

"Yep. When Bashir and I first met, Cris came in just as I was leaving." Arms going up, she gave into a full-body stretch.

"Did I tell you that Deacon met Bashir the other day?"

"No. But Bashir mentioned it. Didn't say much about it, though." A look. "What did he say?"

The brunette groaned. "He just happened to come in as I was reminding Bashir to fly the plane with no shirt on."

"Oh god," she winced. "Bashir said something about that. You got it smoothed over, right?"

"Yeah, I think so," assuring her quickly. "Made sure to point out that he was going on a date with you. So obviously nothing going on between me an' him."

She groaned, eyes rolling. "Should I be afraid that Deke's going to chase him off? I really think your boyfriend thinks I'm the plague." Am, not have.

"No, I'll smack him if he starts anything." Chuckling.

Alex grins. "Good. All I need is for all of the guys I meet to go running for the hills, screaming. I can do that all on my own, thank you very much." Wink. "Feel like going out?" Moving back for the living room.

Caitlin didn?t answer right away. She?d been struck with an idea. A way to accomplish her goal without losing Deacon. But she?d need a favor from someone who wasn?t likely to give it. "I actually have a couple, um, errands to run. I need to drop by work to ask Canaan a question, too. Want to meet back up somewhere? I've got the whole day off."

"Yeah, sure." Grabbing the leather jacket she had slung across the back of a chair. She'd drop it off back at the warehouse. It was too hot for even her to wear it. "I'll probably go to the Inn. Nothing better to do."

"Okay, cool." She grinned and tucked her hands into her khaki shorts. "I'll meet you there in a couple hours."

"Sounds good." Nabbing her bag of leftovers, she shot Cait a grin over her shoulder. "See you."

Two days later, Cait found herself drinking coffee at the inn. Her mind was occupied by the events of the last few days. Consumed with guilt--for lying and for the relief she felt, she?d avoided her friends.

When the front door opened, her gaze shifted to find a very familiar Marked man carrying a hot bag of take-out tucked into the crook of his arm. The sight of him made her cheeks turn red. People didn't need to breathe, right? Because she wasn't. Wide, nervous eyes watched Cris as he walked straight over to where she was sitting. Knuckles were white from gripping her coffee mug too tightly. There was a stupid, obviously forced smile on her face. "Cris," she squeaked, using up a good amount of the air being held in her lungs.

He wasn't sure if that was a greeting or if she was dying. Brows rose, like everyone else in the room he took note of her flaming cheeks as he set the bag of take out down on the table nearby. "You sound like a deflated party balloon." In other words, hello.

The rest of her breath left her lungs in a rush, shoulders drooping. She eyed him, expression dry. "Thanks. Better a deflated party balloon than a screaming banshee." Embarrassment colored her face further as pieces of that night came back in flashes. Her screaming in pain. Cris barging into her house, worried. Deacon explaining to Cris was what going on.

"Yes. Yes, much better than that. May I?" Gesturing to the sitting area in general. He hadn't yet decided where.

"Are you seriously asking me if you can sit down?" She peers up at him incredulously, nose wrinkled. "I'm not going to shatter if you invade my space." She patted the cushion right next to her and inclined her head. "Sit down, weirdo." Her cheeks were still red. But it was easier to pretend like nothing had happened, even though the upcoming discussion was inevitable.

"Don't I always?" One stride cut through the space between Cait's legs and the coffee table. It took him a moment, and with every inch he descended he could feel how the yawning space of the room behind him settled uncomfortably behind his back. Instead, he turned on the couch enough to face her, the two doors within peripheral line of sight.

Now that they were both on the same level, looking him in the eye was a little more uncomfortable. A hand lifting to scratch the side of her head, gaze somewhere to the right of Cris' face--on some sort of knick-knack on the wall. A slow inhale gave her away, the tension and anxiety that filled her. But mostly embarrassment. "How's your day going?"

"Uncomfortably." A moment later, he gestured to the window. "It's warm outside. More than I was expecting." Tooled gear and sunlight did not work very well together. It did not help that it was black.

A woman neared them and Cait looked up at her expectantly.

Caging his exasperation, he reached to shake open the bag of take-out and stack two eggrolls atop a white carton. Which he put into Zynnara's hands. "Give us a moment. Please."

"Cris," Cait reproached quietly. Brown eyes flick back up to Zynnara, looking apologetic.

"I said please. She understands that I'm not upset with her, Cait. She understands a great deal, actually."

?Saying please doesn't mean you're not being rude." Caitlin sighed, watching Zynnara skitter off.

"No, but it was decidedly much more polite than what I was going to say first."

Brown eyes roll, but there's a tiny smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.

"Clearly, you're all right enough to worry about the scope of my manners and where I apply them." Easing back into the couch seemed wrong. Relaxation, succumbing to plush, overstuffed leather one of the worst kind of good feelings. "Did Deacon allow you to leave your apartment or are you here incognito?"

"I'm fine," she bristled, shoulders squaring. "I told him if he didn't let me get out of the house, I was going to lose my mind. So I'm free, for now."

"You can't exactly blame him for wanting to keep you comfortable and where he might be able to help you."

"I'm fine," she repeated, brows pinching together. Could he hear how hard her heart was beating? She wouldn't be surprised.

"Cait.... It might be crass of me to ask you this. Especially right now." He put his hands together and pressed his knees against them. "But please, can we not insult my intelligence any further? You do not have to tell me anything if you do not want to. You may tell me that it's none of my business, and I will understand. But do not lie and tell me that you are fine."

Brown eyes drop to the coffee cup balanced in her lap cupped between her hands. The muscle in her jaw jumps as she clenches her teeth. Next came an audible swallow. When she lifted her head, jaw set forward, she looked a little haughty but her eyes would tell another story. Pain. Hurt. Embarrassment. "I'm sorry you had to see that the other night. I should have warned you when I knew what was going to happen."

"You knew....?" astonishment sharpened the question. "How could you have known, you can't---you can't plan for those kinds of things to happen."

"Well when it starts to hurt and you can't stop the blood, it's a pretty good indication of what's coming next," snapping at him.

They'd swapped expressions. Where hers had hardened, sharpened, his wasn't so much any longer. "That's not what I meant..."

She rubbed her thumb along the rim of the mug, back and forth. "I didn't think it was going to be that bad." Then, adding a little more quietly, "I'm sorry you were worried."

"Why did you tell Alex that I knew?" It had bothered him since their phone call last afternoon, fueled a fair handful of the blows he'd delivered in the pits shortly there afterward. He'd done his best not to think too long on what such a statement would imply.

Brows gather, confused. "But you...I thought you did." Lips purse briefly. "The, um...the night I told Deacon about it, we were fighting. We were both yelling about it. I thought you'd heard us because shortly after you sent me a text about wanting to leave me food or anything I needed. You asked if there was anything you could do. Then we only saw each other a couple times after that." Dread began to fill her. She'd gone on this assumption for weeks, and to find out he didn't actually know? It hurt her. She cared for him enough to tell him news like that. "I just thought you didn't want to talk about it. Like it was awkward or something. I wasn't thrilled about being pregnant, so I was more than happy to play along. Cris," Cait laid a hand on his knee. "I thought you knew."

"I had sent that about Deacon. At the time, he had just been released from the hospital's care. I heard nothing of you fighting above me, though now, by the Angel, I am going to soundproof my ceiling. That isn't exactly all I hear." Gaze dropped to her hand. White against the pitch black of his gear, over three straps, buckled tight. "It's all right. I'm not exactly sure what I would have said to you had I known from the beginning. Why weren't you happy?"

"Oh." Well oops. She wanted to tease him about hearing strange things coming from his place, too, but his question about her happiness stole the wind from her sails. "Because..." trailing off, not even knowing where to begin. "Because...because this wasn't how I wanted things to happen. I wanted something different than what I got. Deacon is possessive and an alcoholic. Since his stay in the hospital, he's been doing a lot to change that, but who knows if it's going to stick? I wasn't comfortable with the thought of bringing a child into a life of uncertainty. I want him to like my friends. I wanted him to propose because it felt right, not because he was scared about having a kid." Gesturing with her left hand, ring finger twitching--look, there's a shiny! "I wasn't ready for a kid. And thankfully, life has handled the issue for me. You're right, I'm not 'fine', but this is the best thing that could have happened right now."

Thank the Angel that he would never be a woman and never have to deal with a woman's half of what carrying and raising a child would entail. A great deal of what she said made sense only because he understood the logic in it. Looking over at the movement of her other hand, the corners of his mouth tightened. He'd never thought of himself in this situation. It was rather awkward to start now. "If you believe all of those things, if you did not want to be tethered to this man by his child, what are you still doing with him?"

Caitlin stared at Cris, biting back the words she wanted to hurl at him. "I think you of all people should know what it's like to love someone and not have an ideal relationship. Is it so wrong of me to love him still? I can handle heartbreak if he ends up ****ing up again. But a baby shouldn't have to go through that."

For the second time, she'd rendered him speechless. He could argue, attempt to, but he found that he did not want to. "And so, what if this happens again?" finally, after over a minute of composed silence.

"Another kid, you mean?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "Not happening. A thousand and one precautions shall be taken henceforth. I'll have a baby after we're married. And that'll only happen if he's been sober for a long time."

"I see." He nodded.

"Look, I know you guys hate him. But I love him. And I'm holding out hope that things change."

"No," one hand through the air as if to slice her words in half. A Mark further down his forearm shifted with the slight ripple of motion. "I've never once said that I hated him. I've said that I think he's an idiot. There is a difference."

"Whatever. You don't like him."

"Not as much as I could, no. But I understand him. My point is, that when you speak of someone you care about, you tend to ignore their myriad flaws. That does not seem to be something you do."

"Alcoholism is not a flaw. It's a gaping wound. And a huge trigger for--for my past."

"It's both. We've all gaping wounds, that begins as a conscious choice." Another slice of his hand through the air. "Whatever my opinion of him may or may not be, that does not matter. You care for him, and that is all that I need to attempt an amiable relationship with him."

She was confused now. She was young and this was her first relationship. It had gotten serious very fast. Maybe she was doing it wrong. "Am I supposed to not talk about his flaws? Should I just ignore them? Am I doing something wrong?" Her questions were earnest.

Earnest met confusion. He blinked at her, sitting back an inch like that would help to see her more clearly. "Are you serious?"

"You said it like I'm not doing what everyone else does. Like everyone else ignores the flaws of their loved ones and I don't."

"Because it's true, you don't seem to. You see them as if they're glaring signs with their neon bulbs skewered into your eyes." Turning a bit more to face her, gear creaked on leather. He stretched his arm along the headrest of the couch, Marks and scars shifting over the easy pull of lean muscle. "Oftentimes, when you are in love with someone---it's not that you don't talk about them, it's that you can't see them, at all."

She looked as if he'd just hit her with a sack of potatoes. What exactly was he insinuating? There were several questions that came to mind, but none of them were voiced.

He hadn't meant to insinuate, at all. Rather, he had made an observation, and he was voicing it. "....Perhaps---you're a bit more level headed, and you're able to step back and view this objectively." Gaze moved to her hand, where a ring glittered in all of its faux finery. "Are you that worried you'll make a mistake?"

"Yes," admitting quietly.

"Cait....listen to me." Ducking his head, he hoped to catch her gaze. "Look at me....?" It didn't happen right away, but she did meet his gaze after several moments of staring at the floor. "If you do not, wholeheartedly, want to do any facet of what you are doing now---it's not worth it to continue." Conversations like these begged for some sort of contact. A hand to the knee as she had done earlier, to the shoulder; something. But he curled his fingers into his palm, a loose fist near her head along the back of the couch. "You will not be making a mistake admitting what it is you truly want."

Molars scrape together, the muscles in her jaw tightening. She doesn't look angry, persay. "I did make my decision. He's getting another chance. And it'll only be a mistake if he blows it."

"And that is what you truly want?"

"Obviously."

Like her, there was tension in the back of his jaw. He looked between her dark eyes in the wake of her monosyllabic answer. Callus roughened thumb followed the dark line of a scar on his index finger. "Then I will support you."

Biting back a snarky reply, she simply said, "Thanks." Glancing down at the mug in her lap, she frowned. Her precious coffee had gotten cold during their discussion.

Nodding, he sent his gaze over the back of the couch, across the room. "Have you spoken with Alex?"

"Not yet. I want to do it in person. Hopefully by tonight." Leaning forward, she put her cold coffee on the table. Brown eyes cut across to him, looking a little panicked. "Did you tell her already?"

"Not everything. But she knew something was wrong." Bringing his gaze back to her. "I told her enough to be certain that she would not beat down your door as I did."

That didn't surprise her, given the text she'd sent Alex that day. "I'll let her know I'm fine. Thanks."

Nodding. "You're welcome."

"I should, um, get back to Deacon." Rubbing at her cheek, she stood and pulled at the hem of her shorts. "He's dealing with this, too."

Mouth parted, but he didn't ask. Simply nodded. "Of course."

Thanks for scrambling everything up, Cris. "Thanks for caring about me, Cris. I'll um, I'll catch you later." Hands in her pockets, she started backing away.

It was there in the even level of his gaze: he didn't believe her, and he wasn't exactly comfortable with her gratitude. "Certainly. Anytime."

11 days later

Who cares if it was a billion degrees outside? That didn't stop her from wearing the much-too-big sweatshirt today. It was hard to tell if she was even wearing any bottoms because it was so long. There she was, barefoot with her hair down, knocking incessantly, but calmly on Cris's door.

It couldn't be a coincidence that mere hours after he'd been told Leena might not have been successful shaking her hounds, there was a knock at the door. The silence of the apartment mixed well with the steel of the thing. He heard the incessant more than the calm and as carefully as he could, eased from the tangle of a flat sheet and a restless, exhausted Angel. He grabbed his stele and a silver from the stack of pictures next to the bed and stayed close to the wall on his way to the door.

Knocking this long was getting annoying. She frowned, only because she was 99% sure he was home, and normal people didn't take this long to answer the door. "Maybe he's in the shower," she murmured to herself, hand dropping away from the door. She was quiet now, turning her ear towards the door to listen for running water.

Maybe he wasn't normal either. He hadn't had a peephole added to the door, perfectly capable of creating his own with the tip of his stele set against the metal. As the surface rippled and became clear, his frown deepened.

Four locks. Two bolts, a chain and a Mark that needed to be destroyed undone, he swung the door open, outward, and stuck his head out into the vortex of heat that was his entryway. "Cait. What are you doing here?" His hair wasn't wet.

'Hi' would have been a nice greeting. Cait's eyebrows rose slowly, brown eyes staring up at the very obviously dry Crispin. "Well I..." seeing his face just made her angry all over again. It would have been so easy to just yell and get everything off her chest, but she didn't. Fingertips pulled at the hem of her sweatshirt. "I was just coming to see how you're doing but if I'm bothering you, I can leave..."

Hell, he hadn't meant to sound as terse as he did. Pressing his lips together, he inched a bit more of himself out through the slit between door and frame. He was dressed too. A coal grey shirt with short sleeves and a V cut collar topped gear, devoid of weapons. His feet were bare. The same Mark that cupped his left forearm, near his elbow, rode the top of his right foot. "No, you're not. It---" a glance back the door. "You're fine. I'm fine, thank you." Then, "Have you heard from Deacon?"

Either Leena was inside or he there was a mess he was trying to hide. When he joined her outside, she took a step back, trying not to roll her eyes. She took a quick moment to look him over, trying to spy bite marks that would give Leena away. She was in the middle of lifting her hand to scratch her cheek when he asked about Deacon and she froze. Mouth open, she looked a little confused. "No." But why would Cris ask about it? It took a second for it to click, that maybe he was asking because they had been planning to do something together. She'd never been able to find out what. "He's been gone for almost two weeks. Kyle thinks he just needs some time to himself." She paused, then asked, "Did he tell you where he was going?"

His neck was clean where it normally wasn't after a night spent in Leena's company. Only black Marks on lean muscle pulled tight with an extra shred of tension. He followed the outline of the stele with his thumb, picking at runes engraved into its surface. His other hand kept the unsheathed silver dagger tight to his arm. He looked over her head, up the stairs. "He told me nothing about that. Only information I was meant to relay to this Kyle if I did not hear from him in a few days. You know how to get in contact with him, yes?"

Regardless of her answer, he put the stele in his other hand and pulled a slim, black phone from the confines of his pocket. "I told him I thought he was an idiot for doing whatever he was doing in the state of mind he was in, but I heard nothing back from him." Turning the phone, on the screen were the quick shot texts Deacon had sent, his last communication with the man.

It wasn't a lot of information, but she was trying to process it, to make sense of it before speaking her mind. After an inhale, she was about to respond when he held out the phone. Lips pursed, fingers wrapping around the sleek device to pull it closer. With each passing text she read, the frown she now wore cut deeper into her face. Using her thumb, she pressed into the screen and copied the third text into a new message addressed to herself and then pressed 'send'. A couple seconds later, the phone in her back pocket chirped. She handed his phone back. "So. I've gone.. no. Thank you for telling me." Licking her lips, Cait took a step back and smiled uneasily. "I'm going to go find Kyle and hope that this wasn't important." With a quick about-face, she was then jogging up the stone steps to street level.

Text to Kyle: I'm coming over. Cris has had information for you from Deacon for like 2 weeks.

Text to Kyle: I'm so ****ing angry. I can't even think straight.

Text to Kyle: Pawn shop. Lucky Larry's. Has a package for you.

Text to Kyle: Passcode for the box 3825, password to receive box only fools rush in.

Text to Kyle: Call me.

---

Text from Kyle: Whoa. Slow Dwn.

Text from Kyle: Whats goin on

Text from Kyle: Jst got bk frm trip.

Text from Kyle: Fk txt. Calling u.



It wasn't long after Cait got the text that her phone was ringing. Kyle was going through the house, looking for any signs of Deke while leaving his headset on to keep hands free to dig around and look through closets and bedrooms. It was not the first time that Deke had just up and left RhyDin, so he was thinking that's all this was.

"Kyle. Hey. I'm on my way over."

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Door's open, I'm upstairs."

"That was my first text, retard."

"Yeah." He wasn't sure what else to say to that. "See ya in a few." He clicked the phone off to keep looking.

About ten minutes later, Cait let herself into the house and wandered around looking for Kyle. "What are you doing?" She asked when she found him rifling through a closet. Arms folded across her chest, leaning in the doorway.

He jumped slightly and stumbled into the closet. "Good way to get shot." Mumbled. "I'm looking to see if he's in the house, in town or gone."

"My guess is he did something stupid. Whatever he did, he felt the need to give Cris information that you'd need should he not be around to give it." She was frowning, watching him. "Probably went to pick a fight. And..." She didn't finish.

"I know it's stupid before I ask, but you've tried to call him or something, right?" He knew what she was going to say without her even trying to finish it. He thought about that information, but it wasn't like Deke at all.

"I haven't tried this week, to be honest. But I called him repeatedly for the first 5 or 6 days. And then I tried to tell myself it was an unannounced business trip and I shouldn't bother him. But now I find out this **** from Cris...I don't even know what to think."

"What exactly did Cris say?" He pushed the door to the closet closed and walked toward her

"Well, he didn't say anything. We've been in the middle of a fight since...since I lost the baby. He said some stuff about Deacon that pissed me off. He was rude. We haven't talked since." She followed along behind him, staring at the floor while she spoke. "So today I went to go yell at him for being an ***hole and when he answered the door, he sounded like I was bothering him. The whole time I was there he was just weird. Then he asked if I'd heard from Deke. So I said no and he showed me a bunch of texts Deke had sent him right before he went missing. He's had that info for almost 2 weeks."

He looked down at her and noticed how she wasn't looking at him. "I'm sorry about the baby." Starting with that, as he'd not been around much to talk to her either and thought of himself as a friend. "What'd the texts say? I'm trying to wrap my head around this stuff." He pushed Deke's bedroom door open and it was obvious no one had been in here since Deke loaded his stuff and left.

She bit her lip, hard. "It's the best thing that could have happened. No sense in dwelling on it." Shrugging, Cait followed him into the bedroom and sat on the bed, tucking her legs up underneath herself. "The texts said something about a change in plans and not being able to take Cris with him. Then the information about the pawn shop. It's best he's alone in this. And something about being thankful Cris is there for me." A roll of her eyes at that.

"He was going somewhere with Cris? He told me the guy's an asshole." Kyle shrugged as he stepped into the walk in and looked at all the designer labels.

"Before today, I wouldn't have agreed but yeah. Cris is a jerk. I don't know why they'd be doing anything together. They don't like each other. No one told me anything about it.?

"Why he needs this many white shirts is beyond my comprehension." More grumbling as he keyed the pad to open the safe room. "You knew this was here, right?" He was thinking about Deke doing anything with Cris and wondered if his boss had planned on just killing Cris and tossing him into the bay. He wondered about what else he could have possibly planned. "Larry's held a few things for King from time to time."

"The panic room?" Cait rolled onto her side so she could peek into the closet from her spot on the bed. "Yeah. I don't know how to get into, though."

"Keypad behind this panel. Once inside you can lock it even more so even if someone knows the code, they can't get in. There's enough guns and shit to take over a small country. MREs and other crap in here." He was talking as he looked around inside, taking note of the things gone. He turned to see Cait lying on the bed and sighed before turning back to doing what he was doing. "Three guns are gone and a tac vest."

She sighed, too. "See, he went to do something stupid. You don't ask your girlfriend to marry you, then leave her to deal with difficult emotional stuff by herself. Not if you really love her. Why wouldn't he at least tell you where he was going? Why is he being so stupid?" If her words had gotten muffled, it was because she had pushed her face into the comforter to hide her stupid tears.

"He may have just taken those things to the pawn, Caitlin." He walked out of the closet, being certain the panic room was closed. "I wasn't here. I went to see my sister..." he shut up as she stuffed her face into the comforter. Another time that Deke had brought her to tears, and he didn't like it. He crossed the floor easily and sat on the bed beside her, one hand came to rest on her back. "I'm sorry."

She went still at his touch. After a moment, brown eyes were peeking up at him--thankfully free from any tears. "Will you go see what he left at the pawn shop, please? I can't...I don't really know how much more of this I can take."

"Going to ride with me?" He kept his hand there on her back.

"I can come?" She sat up, then, looking hopeful.

"Last I heard, pawn shops were public property." He grinned as she finally showed a spark of herself. "Just do me a favor, don't draw more attention to us than we need, deal?"

"I'll follow your lead." Then she rolled her eyes, smirking.

He shook his head. "Okay, Columbo." He stood up and held a hand toward her. "Promise me that you'll keep it together no matter what we find." He looked serious.

She hadn't thought about that end. She'd just assumed the pawn shop was in a bad part of town and she'd look like she didn't belong. Cait glanced down to Kyle's outstretched hand and bit her lip again. Hesitantly, she reached out to take it, squeezed it lightly and let go as she slid off the bed. "I can do that. Let's go."

He nodded and let the touch linger a moment before he dropped her hand, heading for the stairs and down. "I don't know why he'd put something there, since he's hellbent on getting out of King's shadow."

"Losing the baby hit him hard. I don't understand it. but he just didn't handle it well. Who knows what's going through his mind. I guess we'll find out when we get there."

"How hard?" He pulled open the door for her to walk out. That was something he didn't even know had happened.

She didn't like talking about this, but only because her lie was eating away at her. There was no regret over her decision, she just wished she had been able to make it openly. "He was so depressed. Almost like...like he felt it was personal. Like he was being punished. He was fussing over me so much. It was suffocating me. I didn't want him to leave, but the last time we talked I said I needed room to breathe. I just wanted to go for a walk. And when I got back, he was gone."

Sometimes the things she said made him wonder if she was seeing the man he knew. It was like there were two of him running around. One the ***hole that he knew, who was always thankful his luck had held with never having kids. Now, this one mourning? Protecting her, and fussing over her? He'd think that Deke had changed if he wasn't wondering what the hell had lead him to go off on his own. Depression and a suicide run? "What'd the note say again? Something about fools?"

"The text?" Brows furrowed as she tried to remember off the top of her head, but couldn't. Digging into her back pocket, Cait produced her phone and tapped the screen until the text came up. "Only fools rush in. That's the password to receive the box. Does that mean anything to you?"

"For fools rush in where Angels fear to tread." He shook his head. "He's a ****ing idiot." The car was where Deke had left it and Kyle pressed the button to unlock the doors. He opened the passenger side for her to get in, and after she had, the door was closed behind her. Being a gentleman when he'd really rather be breaking Deke's head. He slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "Something we said when we were kids, doing dumb ****."

Cait didn't say anything, lips pursed closed while she buckled her seatbelt and waited for Kyle to get into the driver's seat. Once he was situation, she turned to face him. "What exactly do you mean doing dumb ****? I mean, couldn't it just be the phrase he used for the password? It doesn't have to mean anything is bad...." it sounded like she was trying to convince herself she was right. "We don't know what's at the pawn shop. So let's just find out before jumping to conclusions."

"You have any trouble with suckheads since his attack? Any word your charge and stuff?"

"No," responding with a shake of the head. "Deacon hooked me up with an attorney, but nothing ever came of it. Not that I heard, anyway."

"Yul?" Meaning their sneaky, snake in the grass lawyer.

"I think so. Only met the guy once. Bald...?"

The car was moving a little faster than he normally drove but he nodded at Cait. "Yeah, looks like a mafia hit man?" He swerved to avoid a slower truck. "Nothing out of Max or Asher?"

"Yeah, that's him." One hand was gripping the edge of her seat, the other lifting to hold onto the handle above the window while she grit her teeth. "No, it's actually been really quiet on that front. Which is surprising. Max seemed pretty serious about wanting to get me in trouble. I mean, that was the whole point to hurting Deacon."

Things were getting dirtier and grittier outside the car as they were closing on the docks. The car was attracting attention but Kyle didn't seem to care. Another glance her way. "You promise me?"

Brown eyes cut over to him, brows furrowed. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I am just asking, I'm not Deke...going to go off and see Max for being a ****smoker."

The tiniest of smiles curled the corners of her mouth and she looked away, back to the road so she could make sure they weren't going to hit anything. "I'm telling the truth, ok? The only trouble I've had lately is Will. but he's not a vampire, nor is he connected to them."

"Will? Who the **** is Will?"

******. Cait expelled a frustrated breath and tightened her grip on the handle above the door. "This was a while ago. Like, before Deacon even proposed. It's old news and he only bothered me the one time. It's not connected."

He looked at her as he slowed the car down. "Okay, this stuff is on hold. What happened?"

"He's my dad's boss. Just being a jerk. He saw our names in the paper after Deacon's attack and dropped by where I work to stir up trouble."

"What's he want?"

"I don't know. I didn't exactly give him a chance to get that out. Cane kicked him out."

"What do you think he wants, Cait?" He had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't telling him something.

"It's not something I like to talk about. I shouldn't have even mentioned it. It's got nothing to do with Deacon. Let's just focus on finding out what he's up to, ok?"

He nodded. It was like a female version of Deke. Some things he knew he'd never know. He turned down what looked like an alleyway but it was just an absurdly narrow street. Past boxes, trash dumpsters and other things. It didn't look like anywhere Deke would ever wind up.

"I can't see Deacon ever coming here willingly..." Staring at the debris out the window.

"So, it could be a trap." He reached into the console between them. "Can you shoot?"

"What?!" Horrified, she watched him reach into the console and silently prayed he was not pulling out a gun.

"The only time I've ever touched a gun is when you threw one at me the night Deacon got hurt."

Prayers were rarely answered with him. "Can you shoot?" He pulled a small caliber from the console and held it to her. "Okay, fast lesson. That is a semi automatic. Means that you pull the trigger it fires and reloads until the magazine runs dry. If that happens, there's a button by your thumb, you press it, let that mag fall to the floor, and put a new one in." Both items were held toward her. "If someone starts shooting, find something solid to get behind."

She did not reach for the gun or the magazine, instead shrinking away from them against the door. "Can't I just stay in the car?"

"If someone comes out shooting, same thing applies. Get low in the car, don't worry about trying to line up a shot. Point in their direction and pull til empty."

It felt like her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. Even when she'd worked directly for a vampire, she hadn't ever been put in situations like this. Since meeting Deacon, it was one thing after another. She didn't want to live a life like this. Numbly reaching for the pistol, Cait pressed it into her lap and refused to look down at it.

"If he's not dead. I'm going to kill him."

"I get the first crack," she replied wryly.

"I'm sorry you gotta go through this ****, I really am."

"Let's just get this over with."

He looked at her, then stepped out of the car. He wondered if she was going to come with him, but was doing his best to look intimidating.

Cait unbuckled her seatbelt, but didn't move to get out of the car. Her fingers twitched on top of the gun in her lap, watching Kyle head into the pawn shop.

He walked in, after glaring at a couple people looking at the car a little too closely. The place was old, and not something he'd ever see Deke in. He walked to the counter, looking over the obviously stolen merchandise, waiting on the the broker to come talk to him. From outside, she would see peeks of Kyle's back now and then as he rocked on his feet waiting around. Finally a guy comes in and Kyle goes through the spiel about the box being left and the password was given.

There was a box brought in from the back and placed on the case. Kyle put in the pass code to unlock it and look inside. Stacks of cash, a flask and a few expensive watches were inside. The broker was looking over and being nosey up to the point of seeing all the cash and high end items.

The broker decided that Kyle wasn't that intimidating and pulled his piece on the bigger guy, getting the unexpected drop. "What the hell man?" Kyle wasn't about to reach for his pistol, as the guy looked like he was on something.

"Just leave the box and walk out."

12 Days Ago...




Arnaud passed the valet slip to the attendant as if he was afraid to touch him.

?Deacon, do you have a couple dollars to tip him on his return?? The vamp asked as he looked at the blood in his hand again. ?I can not wait for this drink.?
?Yes, I can cover the tip.? Deacon reached into his pocket, watching the other with his container.
?Did you drive tonight?? Arnaud looked up from his treasure as the Vette came to a stop.
?No, I came in a cab. I planned on getting knee walking, elbow dragging, toilet hugging drunk, but I can come back later.?
?Give him the key, thank you.? Said to the attendant with a point to Deacon. ?He?s going to drive me home.? The attendant shrugged and passed the key to Deke and Deke traded him a few bills for his trouble.
?Thank you.? Deacon said as he held the door open. The interior still had that new car smell.

Arnaud slid into the passenger side and grinned as Deke pressed the gas to hear the powerful engine. ?Sounds good, yes??
?How?s it run?? Deke asked.
?Your discretion as we go to this meeting and I can enjoy this gift.? Arnaud smiled as he cradled the container tenderly.

Deacon waited until he was away from the club before he shifted down and pressed the gas. The engine responded immediately as the car?s digital read out started to climb. The curves were easily taken with the sport suspension keeping the car firm to the road.

?Almost better than my Aston.?
?A fraction of the cost.? Arnaud said with a smile. ?Means I have money left to do other things.?
?Running King?s Empire leaves me more money to do other things.?
?Touch?, Prince.? Arnaud saluted him with the canister. ?Easy on the speed and curves, I wish to taste this.? His hand moved to the lid.
?I promise not to spill a drop of that anywhere on your expensive suit. You need to drink it all, to help you see my vision of the future.?

They found a long, straight section of road, but not by coincidence. It was part of the plan made over the past several days. From the corner of his eye he watched the vampire twist the lid from the container then take a small sip. His eyelids grew heavy and he appeared to be ecstatic before he upended the container and drank it all down.

?Exquisite.? His tongue wiped the remainder off of his lips. Suddenly his hand moved to his throat, and he looked toward Deacon with sheer panic on his features.

?Relax Arn,? Deke reached out and patted the vamp?s cheek. ?Dead man?s blood.?
?How?? Arnaud?s face twisted into anger. ?You?ll pay.? Blood erupted from his mouth, and sprayed across the passenger window. It ran down his chin and spilled onto his front of his shirt. ?You?ll p-pay.?
?No, I?m afraid not. Through all that healing you can do, you know the effect of drinking the blood of the dead.?
?But, virgin??
?She was a virgin, but she was killed in an accident. That blood is weeks old and part of a careful plan.?

8 Days ago, Docks.

?You again?? Larry looked up as the door chimed and Deacon stepped in.
?Has anyone been here for the box?? Deke was tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He pulled the crumpled pack of cigs from his pocket and shook the last one out.
?You know you can?t smoke in here.?
Deke lit the cig and took a deep inhale of the sweet tobacco. ?I?ll take that as a no,? he said as he exhaled the white-gray cloud of smoke.
Larry waved his hand to shoo the smoke away from where he was looking through the latest purchase of stolen gold. ?No one is coming for that box, you know this.?
?Then I am here to put more in it.? Deke rubbed his eye with the back of his knuckle as smoke rolled from his mouth, up his face and irritated as it passed on it?s way to the air above. ?Only fools rush in.?
?I know it is your box.?
?I could be a doppleganger.?
?You could be insane,? Larry muttered as he disappeared from view behind a thick, dark flag that separated the rooms.

Deacon looked at the flag in curiosity. It was a deep, navy blue a dark crimson line running the length, embellished with a rearing griffon. It was nothing like any flag he?d ever seen.

?Larry, what?s with the flag? Get it at a surplus store or something?? Deke crushed out the cig in an overflowing ashtray. He instinctively reached for both his pistol and the stake as Larry started to swear in a language he?d never heard.

It wasn?t long until the broker appeared from the back, pushing past the flag. ?That flag, Friend, is from my country. My brothers and father died defending our flag only to be turned out by the new leadership.? Larry spit in the floor in disgust. ?Because of us, our blood and the blood of many other of our kind he rose to power. Our reward?? Larry put the box on the glass display in front of Deke as he left that question hanging. ?To become the enemy. Adjikistan was declared enemy of the sovereign state. We lost everything and had to go into hiding like the roaches we killed.?

?You were a rebel?? Deke was shocked. The portly, dark skinned and nearly bald man had been a fighter at some point in his life.

?I was a freedom fighter!? He slammed his fist down near the box. ?My life would have been given gladly for our cause, but our sacrifice was for nothing.? Again the man spit in the floor. Deke looked down toward his shoes, wondering if that was a common occurrence in the man?s place of business. ?The politicians poisoned the leadership against us. They whispered lies into his ears, declaring us the enemy, shrouding his vision of the plan we shared.? The longer Larry spoke, the more pronounced his accent became. ?Said that an army was needed. One that was not problematic, as they called us.?

Deke was almost sorry he asked about that flag. He keyed the code and looked over at Larry who seemed to have checked out mentally to talk to himself about past transgressions. ?Larry, I?m going to borrow your office for a few minutes.? The broker only nodded as he lifted a glass of clear liquor in salute to the flag and started speaking in his native tongue. The box was picked up and taken past the topic of conversation and to the office in the back. Once he was in the small, dirty room, he made space on the desk for the envelope he pulled from an inside pocket, and placed the box on the floor, away from the door.

The envelope was opened and the paper was pulled from within. Fresh, crisply folded and waiting as he picked up a pen that advertised Lucky Larry?s Pawn and Gun. If we don?t have it, you don?t need it. No questions asked.

He stared at the paper then started to write.

?Kyle. I know you?ll be reading this first. Keep some of it between us if you can, as I don?t want her to know everything about what I?ve done and with whom. Yul is working on the papers to set her up as acting director until a suitable replacement is found. I know she?ll say she doesn?t want it, but help her if you can, understand that it?s only temporary. After you read this letter, destroy it, please.

I?ve lost it. I?ve tried to be who King wasn?t. I?ve tried and failed to give up drinking, all for Caitlin. I thought she was the one, no? I think she is the one. I?m not writing this like I?m already dead. She?s definitely a bright spot in my life. When this is over, I?m going to work on fixing what she and I started with, if she will. I know I?m not easy to work with, live with or even love. I?m the monster my stepfather helped shape. You don?t know how important you and Caitlin are to me, and that?s because I don?t tell you.

Deke looked at the letter and pulled the flask from his pocket for a drink. The last swallow drained down his throat. He sighed and put the flask into the box, after reading the inscription again. ?The friend is the one who knows all about you, and still likes you.? It had been a gift from Kyle one year at Christmas.

?At the house, in the safe in the study are things you need to handle should I not come back. The discs, just burn them. There?s nothing there that you need to worry about. There are photos I?ve paid for to keep things quiet, they should be burned as well as the film that holds the originals. Burners, and I don?t know why I?m telling you this stuff. You?ve been cleaning up after me for years. Thank you.?

Deke read over the written words and looked at the bank of monitors for a few minutes watching the people come and go from the shop. None of them were what he?d consider ever dealing with.

?Upstanding fine, citizenry come to this place, just like me.? He chuckled. He couldn?t help it. The lack of sleep, and drinking too much was starting to make everything funny, but the smile fell when the pen touched the paper again.

?Caitlin. I know you don?t understand but everything I am doing now is for us. If there is even an ?us? to work for. I am sorry that the baby is lost. I really wanted to be a father and experience life with my own family, you the baby and I. Even ?Uncle? Kyle. See what life was going to be like from the other side, but like everything in my life I touch, the happier parts turn to smoke and my fingers slip right through.

The man that attacked me, was a vampire. I?m thinking Asher, but apparently it?s higher than that. I think I?ve been told higher, so I back off of Asher and his pit bull, Maxim. But, it makes sense that they are involved and pulling the strings. Why would he come to you with evidence so handy?

I know life isn?t how we?ve planned it. I know that I?m like living with Jekyll and Hyde, but I am making this promise, which I hope you believe. It stops now. After this, I want us to go somewhere?anywhere, and start over. Be the couple we are capable of being, so I can be that man that you love, and give you the kind of love, support and attention that you, so deeply, deserve. I want to love you, the way you love me.

Forever,

Deke.


The letter was placed into the envelope and then he sealed it quickly. He placed the letter, several watches and a few other expensive items inside before keying the code and locking the box, then bent to pick it up from the floor. Deacon walked back to the front of the store to find Larry looking at more of the obviously stolen goods, and placed the box back on the display. The men exchanged glances at one another, before Deke turned and walked out of the shop.

Five days ago, Stars End.





Deke rarely found himself in the tech area of Star?s End since he and Sarah had their falling out.

Falling out. The words were funny to him. He?d think that when a girl killed his stepfather it?d be a bit more than a spat. Years after the fact, he realized she had done him a favor.

Deke had cut a path through low-level informants, newly turned vamps were left for dead, all to get the lead on the next big fish. Word had already spread that someone had ashed Arnaud and Deke used that to his advantage. He turned to look at the guy riding beside him in Arnaud?s Vette.

?Sammy, wake up.? Deacon poked the guy with the barrel of his Colt.
?I ain?t sleeping, my eye is swollen shut, you prick.? Sammy turned to face Deke as he spoke, his right eye glaring with hatred, his left damaged and swollen.
?I told you not to run.?
?You killed Arnaud, of course I?m gonna run. They are calling you a serial killer.?
?I told you if you ran, you weren?t going to be happy when I caught you.? Deke said. He thought about Sam?s words a minute. ?Who is calling me that??
?Man, you are crazy. You?ve got them stirred up, they are looking for you since you?ve killed seven of them.?
?Since when??
?The two that were sent after you went to see Asher??
?Oh, they are counting those.? Deke interrupted. ?This is the place?? He pointed with the fingers of the hand that was resting on the leather wrapped steering wheel. The building was like so many in the spaceport. It was glass, alloys and odd angles.

Sam turned his head to look out the window and then up at the building. ?Yeah, this is the place. This guy though, he?s going to rip your head off, and when he?s done, I?m gonna piss down your neck.?

Deke slammed the butt of the pistol into the side of Sam?s head and the man slumped into the seat. ?That isn?t nice, Sammy.? He took the unconscious man?s hand toward the steering wheel and cuffed him to it with police issue handcuffs. ?Keep an eye on the car for me, will you?? Deke patted the top of the man?s head and stepped out to go around to the rear of the car. The rear glass made part of the trunk lid, which meant he had to use a dark cloth to cover up the things he carried inside. The shotgun was slung under his long coat, opposite side from the pistols, and the bag was taken into his hand. If Sam wasn?t lying, he was preparing for anything.

The building was still under construction. The top floors were still open to the air and that?s where he was heading. At this time of evening, the only workers were robots used to weld beams and secure heavy rivets. Deacon checked the beams where the robots weren?t working. They were solid with slightly glowing welds that put off heat when his hand moved close to them. If Sam was telling the truth, this new target was even stronger than Arnaud had been, so he wasn?t going to take any chances.

The bag was placed on the floor and he started to work at getting the chains from within, before his phone chimed. With a sigh of agitation he pulled the phone from his jacket pocket and started to read over the message from Kyle. His eyes narrowed both at the words and the fact that they had started looking for him already.

?You?ve told me you are quitting before.? Deke muttered as he sent the reply to Kyle. The only thing that stood out more this time, was the fact that it was going to happen over his relationship with Caitlin. ?All over a woman.? The reply sent and he went back to work.

?Men do strange things for women.? The voice seemed to blow in on the wind that moved through the open space, and Deke jumped while reaching for his pistol.

His head swiveled as he pressed his back into the beam, keeping one side covered. The laughter let him know that he was being toyed with. One hand dropped from the holding the pistol steady to reach into his pocket for the LED flashlight. The flashlight and pistol were held in a Harries hold as he started to scan the deeper shadows of the area.

?That?s cheating, Deacon.? The disembodied voice whispered near his ear, and he swung to face that direction, calm enough not to waste a shot.
?Show me that pretty face, and I?ll stop cheating.? Deke said through grit teeth.
?Boo.? He felt a tap on his opposite shoulder and he swung that way, dropping to one knee in a firing stance, pistol higher up, aiming for a possible chest. The laughter flew around him again. ?Fast for a human, but not fast enough, Boy.?

The pistol was wrenched from his hand, breaking his trigger finger in the process. He cried out with that sudden flare of pain and heard the pistol clatter to the ground and slide away from him. He knew he had to move fast, so the shotgun was brought to shooter?s position and against his shoulder. The shadows moved around him to the right and using his middle finger to pull the trigger, the silver double ought sparked and ricocheted from a working robot.

?One down, seven to go.?

He knew his guns.

?Samuel led you right to us.?

Deke scowled and racked the slide on the gun. He?d been set up. The small LED flashlight that had been held with his pistol danced across the floor as something kicked it so the muzzle of the shotgun was turned that direction, but the shot wasn?t wasted.

?Lets dance.?

The hairs on the back of Deke?s arms and neck started to rise and he felt something behind him. He turned, and fired. The sound of screaming was his reward.

?Mind if I lead then?? Deke stepped out and fired another round into the fallen vamp?s chest, which left his back open.
?You lead, I?ll follow.? The rebar rang out as it met with the back of Deke?s skull.

He saw Max?s smiling face come into view as he leaned down to lift Deacon?s head from the floor. ?You are lucky they want you alive.? The world faded from red-tinged blur to black.

Kyle drove quickly from Cait's house to Deacon's estate. He was angry at Deke still for the text, and now fearful for his and Caitlin's life because of Deke's doing. When it was said and done, with or without Cait he was going to walk away. Something he should have done long ago. The car cruised up the drive and came to a stop just outside the garage. A press of the button on the overhead and the door slid upward. The headlights were on so he was making certain Cait wasn't in there before he pulled in. A small blast of the horn, and when he didn't see her, he pulled in and parked. From the car, he went to his place. A few clothes were gathered and he opted for a shower in Deke's room since that's where he planned to spend the night.

Caitlin had done what he'd asked immediately and then got right back into the panic room. She'd gathered the comforter and all the pillows from off the bed and now sat against the far wall behind the locked door wrapped in a giant, fluffy cocoon of a blanket. The bowl of ice water had been set into a cooler she'd found in the garage which she packed with all the dry ice she could find. It was as far away from her as possible in the small room, close to the door. The thought of what Kyle would bring in made her sick to her stomach.

The car's horn was heard, but she didn't move. There was absolutely nothing that could make her leave the safe room tonight. Nothing about this was ok. And frankly, she wasn't sure she could take another second of it.

It wasn't long before Kyle tapped on the door to the safe room. "Caitlin?" Yes, it was thick steel but she should be able to hear him. "Hey, I'm here and alone. I'm going to open the door for the ice, okay?" He wasn't sure how flipped out she was, and if there was a gun in her hand or not.

No gun, lucky for him. If it was up to her, she'd never go near one again. There was no response, so he'd have to come in tentatively. He'd find her huddled in the corner, waiting expectantly, her face tear stained but seemingly fine for now.

The door popped open and the first thing to appear was his hands. "You okay?" Carefully he peeked inside, and saw her in the big, fluffy cocoon. "Hi." He was glad to see her, and her being okay...somewhat. Eyes fell on the cooler and then moved back to her. "I'm going to take this, and then take a shower. Okay?" He wasn't even sure if she was in shock or not since she hadn't said anything.

"Okay. I don't want to see it...but..what....?" What was it?

Kyle held up his hands, looking at them a minute. "Left pinky." He said quietly. "I haven't ran any prints, but I'm pretty sure it's his."

What little color was left in her face drained, lips mashing into a tight, thin line. Nostrils flared as she sucked in a lungful of air, eyelids fluttering closed on the exhale. "Don't take too long, ok?" Somewhere in the folds of the blanket, she found her phone and burrowed further into the cocoon to send a text to the stranger holding Deacon hostage.

Text to 3047792481: You're not going to get away with this.

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: I already have.

Text to 3047792481: You're bluffing.

In a few minutes the shower was running. Kyle left the door open so he could listen for her, but closed enough to maintain some form of attempted decency. While the water was getting hotter, he took the finger and wrapped it carefully in a washcloth in an attempt to save it should they find Deke in the next day. The shower was hot, and of course much nicer than his own. He went through all of Deke's expensive scrubs and shampoos trying to find one that he actually liked the scent of before he started washing.

Caitlin?s phone vibrated in her lap.

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Are you willing to bet the others' life on that?

A frown creased her tired expression, fingertips flying over the screen as she shot a reply back.

Text to 3047792481: What others?

Ever so quietly she left the safe room and padded out into the bedroom to sit next to the door to the bathroom, phone clutched in her hands.

Kyle was humming something while he scrubbed. Anything to keep his mind off of her in the blankets and being in close proximity all night. Maybe he'd sleep in the bed and let her have the safe room. Surely the house was secure enough. In a minute or two later, the water was turned off and he stepped out, grabbing his towel.

When the water was off, she cleared her throat. "There are others."

He jumped, and held that towel over himself. "What?" Looking to be sure he was alone in the bathroom, but he did pick that big cannon he called a pistol from the sink. "In the house?" He thought about her and her safety then. The towel was wrestled into place around his, then the door was pulled open, as he looked for her. "What are you talking about."

"Down here." To clue him in to her whereabouts. She held up her phone, careful not to look up at him....in just a towel. "That number texted me again. And--" The phone chirped again. She paused, lowered the screen back to eye level and read the message.

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: The one that's been hunting all day, and showering now.

In a flash, Caitlin was on her feet and running to the panic room. "Get in here! Get in here now!"

He looked down at her, then up as she jumped and ran. Boxers were about all that was grabbed as he ran for the panic room. "I thought you said they weren't here." Cursing loudly as he stepped on Deke's shoes and then banged his head going into that panic room. "Son of a *****." Hand to head with that pistol as he turned to press the code for the door then slid the locks into place from the back side. "You okay?" Turning to look at her. Since he was in just that towel she'd be able to see the tattoos that worked across a lot of his upper body.

The cot along the far wall creaked beneath her weight as she settled down on it. "That number...it's been texting me still. I said that they weren't going to--oh, here. Just read it yourself." The phone was held out to him, gaze neatly averted until he could get a chance to put on his boxers.

He was doing that, keeping that towel in place while he worked carefully. The phone was taken and he learned from the last time he had a girl's phone, don't scroll sideways, up or down. Just look at what was offered. "So, they are watching..."

"Here." She bent at the waist and grabbed one of Deacon?s t-shirts she'd been planning to use as pajamas. "I'll just sleep in what I'm wearing. You might be able to get the shirt to fit, but there's no way his sweatpants will." A low, practically mirthless laugh filled the small room.

"Is this just a big game or something? Clearly they're watching. They could have snatched me on my way here. Same for you."

He looked at the shirt, then pushed it back toward her. "What is that, a small?"

"Okay, fine, freeze." Making a face at him. Then, "I'm not responding to that number anymore."

"I won't freeze, I promise." He was still looking at her phone, trying to place that number. He held her phone toward her again in a silent offer. The towel was still around his waist. "I don't know what it is, Caitlin. I wish I did." He looked at her blanket nest, then lowered down into the floor. He thought about the message, and yes they were watching, apparently outside the house now. He reached over and pulled down what looked like a tablet. He started tapping on the screen, which was obviously how he text too.

Phone in hand, it was tossed towards the foot of the cot. She wouldn't read anymore messages tonight. "What are we going to do if they kill him?" A whisper, watching him type away on the tablet.

"You get a lot of money." He answered as he worked. The screen changed and it was then showing pictures of the outside of the house. Another tap or two, the screen washed out then evened out with a clearer picture as he powered up the lights installed after Deke's attack.

"You can have the business. I don't want it. Why the hell would he give it to me?" Talking about him like he was already dead left a sour note in her mouth, but it was better to be prepared for this kind of thing. Getting blind-sided would help no one.

"Hey, it's written up for you." He glanced at her then tapped the screen a few more times. "I'll help you how I can."

"I don't even know what he does, Kyle. I can't run a multi-million dollar company with no experience. I want nothing to do with money. I like my job at Maelstrom. I like my little Brownstone. I like eating chinese food several times a week because it's cheap." Her eyes dipped to the tablet screen, curious. "Money corrupts people."

When she looked at the screen he held it toward her. The scenes were changing as the cameras started their sweep and scan. The color was crisp and bright, and it looked like daylight outside. "There's a lot of good things that the place does. Things that will stop if he's dead." Kyle thought about Deke's death and he seemed to be oddly at ease with it.

"This isn't the life I want," responding with a shake of the head. "I thought that I could handle it. I mean, I knew who Deacon was before we started dating. But I can't..."

"Can't what?" Suddenly wishing he had a drink or something.

She answered with a different question. "Does he love me?"

That wasn't what he wanted to talk about either. "Yes." his voice was quiet and he really wanted that drink now.

That answer was truly unexpected in light of the last 24 hours. Caitlin sighed and covered her face with her hands.

"I told him no matter what happens, if he's still alive he either fixes whatever you have if that's even an option, or lets you go. Whatever his choice, I'm done. I'm not cleaning up his shit anymore."

There was a lot that could be said in response to that. It was all there, on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out of her mouth and ruin the night again like she'd done yesterday. Instead, Caitlin licked her lips and chose her words carefully. "I think...that that's a healthy decision. I wish..." So much for being careful. Shaking her head, she didn't continue. "I just want everything to go back to normal."

"You wish what? You either keep talking-to me or I'm gonna go nuts in this little space."

"I wish I had something that would make this an easy decision. I don't like feeling so torn about it. I do love him...but I don't think he loves me. Not the way he should. We always fight. He's a controlling, impulsive drunk...and I don't know how to just cut my losses and move on. Maybe there's something wrong with me. I don't know. Maybe Cris was right..."

"Right about what?" He looked up at her from his spot in the floor, listening and trying not to hope.

"There's nothing wrong with you. He's a charming, and all that **** kind of guy. He has changed since he's been with you, and I know he's not been drinking, as it was causing problems." He didn't want to defend the man, but here he was doing it.

"I thought things would get better, too, after he quit drinking. And it was nice...but then he goes and pulls a stunt like this? I was livid the last time he went off chasing vampires. This time is worse. He left me to deal with some emotionally heavy stuff and then just falls off the face of the earth. No warning. No contact. Why didn't he answer my calls the first week? My texts? But you he'll answer..."

"Maybe he ate a bullet. I mean who knows where his phone is, or was. He was out there, dealing with loss and life crashing down on him..." He put two fingers to the side of his head like a gun. "Game over."

Hopelessness splintered across her face as tears sprang to her eyes. "This is my fault."

He reached over and put a hand on her knee. "It is no one's fault but his own."

"Are we going to have to spend the whole night in here?" Her eyes were on his hand.

He slid his hand away slowly, like he didn't want to as shoulders rose and fell. "I don't know. You said this is where you were going to be."

"If they're watching the house...I just..." She shivered and closed her eyes, the full weight of the evenings events starting to set in. "I feel safe in here." After a moment, her eyes fluttered open and shifted up to look at his face. "I'm glad you're with me. I couldn't handle this alone. And there's no way I'm dragging Alex into this."

He watched her, then leaned back pressing his back against that cool wall. He turned his head in her direction, listening to what she was saying but mind was drifting into the day, and night's happenings. "If they're watching, this is the safest place to be. Outside the closet is lined with UV lighting, they'd burn to a crisp and not scratch that door." Hand reached out but fell back into his own lap as he picked at a string on the towel around his waist. "I really don't think she or Cris need in this shit."

Nodding, Caitlin pulled the blanket up around her, unable to shake the feeling of being cold. "How long do you think we're going to be holed up in here? Are you...will you go look for Deacon in the morning or..." the sentence trailed off and it wasn't easy to tell which decision she preferred.

He poked the box of MREs with his foot. "Until we are sick of those?" He grinned, trying to make a joke. It wasn't his intention to stay in the small room any longer than he had to, as he didn't much care for the confines of a small space. She, however, made it a bit more bearable. "They could have people working for them during the day, but they are easy to deal with. Call The Watch, they are told to **** off. At night though? Yeah, even weak ones are enough to rip our heads off."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but anger was the more prominent emotion. "He said he was doing this for us. But I wasn't afraid before. Maybe that was just me being naive, but I wasn't afraid to live my life. Now I'm terrified to leave this house. He poked a bear that he shouldn't have." Wiping at her eyes furiously, Caiting tried to calm down but continued to shake. "They're vampires. They live forever. They can bide their time. Things will calm down, sure, but then right when we're all comfortable again, something will happen. And it's his fault."

She had a point. Once Deke was gone, the game would more than likely be over, unless they decided to just take Kyle on principle, he didn't think he'd have too much to worry about. Sure, he'd helped deal with a couple, but he was just a hired hand, he wasn't the son of one of their own. "Deke said he was doing what for you, exactly?"

"In his stupid note. Said he was taking care of stuff that would haunt us later or whatever. That he wanted to uncomplicate our life." A short, mirthless bark of laughter filled the small room. "Look how it's turned out."

"Si vis pacem, para vellum," He leaned over to pick something from her blanket as he watched her. "If you want peace, prepare for war." Some old movie somewhere had used that line and he always liked it, but hated it that he found it true more often than not.

"I'm not a soldier. I'll just stay here until this is over." Watching him again. "Or maybe I'll leave. Rhydin's a big place. There's plenty of places I could go."

"I'd like it if you stuck around," admitted quietly.

Lips parted, then closed. She shifted, making the cot creak. "Well I'm not going anywhere for now. I'm too scared to leave this room, let alone the house."

We are safe, Caitlin." He watched her, wanting to say more but just not pushing anything.

"For now."

"A big, IF something kept us here. We can get out there in the daylight and go. Whatever, just go. I'm so fucking tired of cleaning up after that spoiled son of a *****, you don't even know."

His worry was turning to anger. His wanting to be someone she needed instead of the jerk she was with. His jaw tightened. "Sorry."

"You'd leave with me?"

He just looked at her again and nodded. Hand moved up to shove hair back, not that there was much on the sides, and a little bit of length on top, a move of agitation. A slow exhale of breath and he nodded. "I've got some money set back, nothing like around..." a pause as he thought about the box, and the note inside. "Yeah, if it meant you were safe, smiling again and sane, I would."

Though nothing about their circumstances had changed, still terrified the worst would happen and they'd be dead by morning, Caitlin smiled for him. It felt forced, but she truly was grateful to have him care about her so much. "That makes this all a lot less scary."

He nodded, thinking about that scenario. Far away from this life, money, and everything that went with it. What then? Nothing. She was still with a worthless prick of a man that's doing his damnedest to get them all killed. The side of his mouth curled upward just a touch. "We'll stay in touch after this is over."

If only he knew how she viewed the scenario in her mind. Deacon was nowhere in sight. "I would hope so." Her arm moved as if she was going to reach for him, but thought better. "I'd like to think we've become good friends after all this time."

"Yeah, I think maybe when we get out of this, I'll be looking for a new flat or something." Anything to change the subject and his hands were busy picking at nothing on the towel to keep them busy.

The faint smile on her face faded, gaze dropping to stare at the floor. She was making him uncomfortable. It wasn't fair to keep dangling the idea of what could be right in front of him while simultaneously keeping him at arms length. "Maybe--" the rest of what she was going to say was cut off when the phone at the end of the cot chirped intrusively.

"Maybe?" Urged as the curse of the Wasek luck reared its ugly head. He glanced at the cot and reached for her phone in an attempt to pass it to her. He wasn't uncomfortable, just trying to keep his hands busy, occupied so they aren't wanting to touch her.

She made no move for the phone, not wanting to see more threats, but she eyed the device warily. "I was just going to make a joke. Maybe I could get my landlady to evict Cris and you can live in the place below mine." It was less funny without her smiling.

He just looked at her and it was hard to tell if she was being serious or not, especially without the smile. "At least you know you'd be safe if I was home." Like he'd ever be gone. More than likely he'd become a hermit. No more dirty laundry to do.

"No running off to kill vampires?" Brief smile, but soon her eyes were back on the phone. She should look. She really should look. Maybe it wasn't the unknown number. It might be Alex.

"Yeah, **** that."

Curiosity got the best of her. Caitlin tipped to the side, lying prostrate on the cot now to reach for her phone. The screen lit up and her brows furrowed.

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Well there have been no replies?

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Which part would you like next? Ear?

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Oh, I know. How about his nose? He does love to keep it where it does not belong. Cut off his nose in spite of his face.

After she finished reading, she let the phone drop back onto the stretched canvas, eyes staring at the wall across from her. "They're going to kill him. I mean...they're really going to kill him, aren't they."

He deserves it. That's what he wanted to say. "What now?"

"They want to know what they should cut off next." Monotone, emotionless words just tripping out of her mouth. Curiosity killed the cat. So accurate.

"Do you mind?" He gestured for the phone.

Faint shake of the head in response.

He picked up the phone and eyed the message. "Any more?" He wasn't about to start scrolling around her phone.

"Feel free to look at them all."

He nodded and flipped through. "I don't think this is a vampire..." Said as he read over everything.

Brows furrow, brown eyes shifting to watch his face in the glow of the phone's screen. "Why?"

"He'd be dead by now."

"Well, who else has a bone to pick with Deacon?"

"What are you doing for the next thirty years?" Muttered sarcastically as he started to type on her screen.

"So...so maybe this isn't about vampires after all?" The thought was comforting. "What are you typing?"

"That you want proof of life."

"You should ask what they want. Otherwise this is pointless. We don't know where he is or what they're doing with him. There's got to be a point. Unless the point is just to terrorize me."

"Which is why I am thinking it's not vamps." A few more taps on the screen. "How do you back this up? Like fix my errors?"

Cait laughed. A genuinely amused laugh. "Give it here."

He passed it over and it was all in typical Kyle speak. "So, ask them what they want, and tell them we want proof of life or they can get bent."

His text was beyond saving, so it was deleted in it's entirety and she started over. "Okay. Okay, there. I sent it."

Text to 3047792481: What is it that you want? I need proof of life or I'm not helping you. And I won't respond further until I get what I want.

There was a reply almost as soon as she sent the text, and Kyle looked over at her again. He was about to say something when there was a thump against the door of the safe room, at nearly the same time the house alarm started to wail.

The phone kept chirping while the alarm continued to blare. Caitlin screamed and sat bolt upright as everything seemed to happen all at once. She didn't bother reading the texts, terrified gaze flicking between the door and Kyle.

Kyle was up, towel be damned gray boxers on display as was his back which carried many scars from who only knew what. The pistol was in his hand but he fumbled with the tablet-slash-remote to fill that closet with the UV he'd talked about earlier. He stared at the screen while, out of habit, covering the door with his pistol. "I don't see ****." Tapping the keys there, and the image changed to a printout of the house, red line over Deke's bedroom window showing the point of entry. "Someone with a good arm, or damn fast." More tapping on the keys to shut that alarm off.

She'd started shaking again, feeling like she might be sick. "I have to get out of here. I can't stay in here like a trapped animal." Caitlin lunged off the bed and over to the door, but her hands were shaking too badly to properly work the keypad.

Seeing what she was trying to do Kyle caught her easily around the waist. Where Deke was lean, Kyle had the bulk and could easily stop her. "Caitlin, no." He pulled her back away from that keypad. "We don't know what's out there, and you go now you're dead."

There was a bit of a fruitless struggle until a bit of rationalization kicked in. Caitlin started to sob and wrenched herself out of his grasp once it loosened. She threw herself onto the cot and wrapped herself in the comforter, as if to block anything and everything out. The phone with it's proof was forgotten about.

He pushed away from the door and looked at her as she went to that cot. He stood up and looked back at her. "Mind if I look?" Motioning to her phone. He wanted to hold her, and keep her close. Assure her that everything would be okay, and that she was wasting more tears over an ***hole... but he stayed as stoic as possible.

"I don't ****ing care," she spat through her tears. "I'm not responding anymore. This is all a show. It's a game. They just want to scare me. They're going to kill him and there's nothing we can do about it. I can't...I can't..." she was starting to hyperventilate. Caitlin covered her mouth to keep from sounding pathetic and buried her face into the blanket. Just when the panic was about to kick it into high gear, her breathing evened out. Soft, quick inhales were all that was left of her hysterics, exhaustion beginning to take over.

Kyle's lips stretched into a thin line as he watched her. The phone forgotten he sat down on the cot next to the mountain of covers she burrowed into. "Come here." It was said but she wasn't given the option. One big arm slid around her and pulled her close. Just an attempt to comfort her and show her that again, he was nothing like Deke. "We don't know what they are doing...but you've got to breathe."

Caitlin turned over after a moment of stunned silence, peeking out to look up at him from her cocoon with red, puffy eyes. "I'm s-so s-scared, Kyle." There was more to say. More on her mind. More on the tip of her tongue but she was finding it difficult to make the words leave her mouth. Guilt is a mighty weapon. And she was wracked with it. It was more than just feeling guilty about causing this whole entire situation by getting rid of the baby. In just one day she'd gone from dutifully waiting for Deacon to hating his guts for putting her through all of this while simultaneously desiring to turn to another. There was much conflict written out in the lines on her face.

In a gentle, easy sweep he pushed dark curls away from her face. "I know, I am too." There were no ulterior motives. He just wanted her to know who was the better man. It was then that he decided to keep her back, no matter what the choices were, or how they were made. If that meant picking her up after another Deacon fail, then he would do that.

He might not be able to tell through the flush of all that crying she'd done, but her cheeks turned red at the small gesture. A shivered coursed through her that had nothing to do with being upset. "Stay with me," whispered, shifting her body so that her back was pressed against the wall to make room for him on the cot. It wasn't an invitation for more than shared space, but she didn't want to be alone--couldn't be alone.

He watched her saying nothing. The look on her face, and those words. No, he wouldn't read more into it than what she said. Carefully he moved around to stay close and make her feel safe. "I am not going anywhere."

Eyes were closed now, a tiny smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "I know you aren't." They were quiet for some time. So long that her breaths became slow and even, he may have even thought her to be asleep. Then, "If he comes back alive..." words were spoken softly...but cut off once again by the phone chirping. It sparked her memory to the last set of texts they'd been waiting for. Her mind switched tracks fast. "Did they send a picture?"

"If he comes back..what?" He wasn't going to let another unfinished thing go past him. "That's twice. What were you going to say?"

"I'm done with him." Barely a whisper, like she was afraid to say it out loud. "I'm not even--" the words got stuck in her throat. After an audible swallow, she tried again. "It's not even about you. I just can't do this anymore." Then, as if she didn't want to hear what he had to say in response to that confession, Cait urged him to look at the phone. "What did they send?"

Well ****. That wasn't what he expected at all, but there was maybe just a glimmer there. Something was about him? The phone he wanted to load into a cannon and shoot out into the bay, but he shifted slightly to pick it up from the floor. The screen was tapped, and he mouthed the words as he read.

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Attached Image

Text to Caitlin from 3047792481: Sorry Love, I got bored. I'll be in touch.


"What's an attached image mean? Is that like a picture?" He was new to the phones, even in this day and age.

"Yeah. Just click it. Push the screen where it says attached image."

He tapped the screen, and waited a minute for the image to pop up. He blinked once and looked back at her. If it was real, he was definitely going to blame the Wasek luck. "Holy ****..."

No. Caitlin expected to see the bloodied and bruised face of her Fiance when she reached for the phone to yank it out of Kyle's grip. But the picture that bore into her retinas was nothing she'd wanted to see. They'd asked for proof of life. This was proof of death. The air left her lungs in a rush, head spinning, tears blurring her vision. Someone was crying, yelling something. She wanted them to stop...it was making her head hurt. The heart breaking wails of this woman sounded familiar...a little too familiar. When she became aware that the painful cries were coming from herself, Caitlin crumpled into the cot once more, wishing the crushing weight on her chest would swallow her up.

He took the phone back, dropping it into the floor, hoping it would break. Attention turned to the wailing woman at his side then, arms went around her. "We don't know if that's even him... He was doing his best at something he never had to do, and that was offering comfort. He had no words, if that was Deacon, why would they toy with them if that plan was obviously laid out? He didn't shed a tear, the man he worked for wasn't the same boy he grew up with. They didn't share the same fun they once had. "Shh..." he pushed her hair back from her face again. He didn't know why he'd say that, she should let it out. Give into the flood of emotion and maybe it'd be enough to wear herself out for a good night of sleep before exhaustion claimed her where she lie.

It was different; to simply think something was going to happen and to actually see photographic proof of it in front of you. That it might not even be Deacon hadn't occurred to her, but in the throes of emotion, nothing would get through to her in the moment. She didn't get the chance to end things on her terms. Instead he'd been ripped out of her life because of a selfish choice on her part. She was to blame. This was her fault. And she'd pay for it for the rest of her life. A wash of tears and guilt carried her off to a night of fitful and nightmare-plagued night of sleep.

Almost three days later, she turned her phone back on. Later that evening it rang obtrusively. Cait almost ignored it, but the bright name of her best friend lit the screen, changing her mind.

"Hello?" She sounded half asleep and like she was coming down with a cold.

"Hey, it's me." ... "Were you sleeping?"

Audible sigh. "No. Having trouble on that front, actually." Short, mirthless chuff of laughter.

"You sound tired. What's up?" Scratching nose, quiet pop and sizzle. Inhale.

Silence. Slow inhale. Silence. "He's dead."

Long exhale, not much of anything else for a good handful of seconds. "Who's dead?"

"Deacon." Hollow voice.

More silence, but it was filling, quickly, with confusion. "Wait, what?" More time to culture desired misunderstanding. "Deacon's dead? What happened?" The realization still hadn't hit but when it did, Cait would get her due concern. Just.. give it a minute.

"I thought...I thought he was away on business. But he was chasing after the vampire who put him in the hospital." Sniff. "And at some point they got a hold of him. Tortured him. Put one of his fingers in a box and...put it in my m-mailb-box." Stifled sob. "Kyle couldn't get to him in time. They s-sent me a picture of his d-dead b-body." Then silence, as if she put her phone on mute.

"Oh my god..." It was probably the best of things that Cait couldn't see Alex at that moment. Any number of things could have been happening, could have been expressed. Instead of any of that, Cait got, "Cait, I am so sorry... Are you okay? No, don't answer that. That's stupid. Of course you're not. Are you home? Are you alone? ****, Cait, I'm so ****ing sorry." ... "Do you need me? Should I could over?"

The presence of sound returned and Caitlin sniffed again. "I'm home but don't--don't come over. I don't want to see anyone. Hopefully Cris stays the **** away from me, too."

"Well, if you need anything..." It stung, but she understood. Losing someone wasn't pretty, didn't leave you graceful. Wanting to be alone would have been what the pilot had asked for, too. "Why, what did Cris do?"

"Cris," she practically spat the name. "Knew Deacon was going to do something. Deke texted him important information that he was supposed to give to Kyle if he didn't hear back from him. And he held onto that information for eleven ****ing days, Alex. He wouldn't have given it to me at all if I hadn't tried to talk to him myself. I mentioned he was missing and he was like, oh hey, he sent me this a while ago."

... ... ... "Seriously?" Had Cris told her this? No, he couldn't have. Not in so many details, anyway. Alex would have harassed him until he had told Cait, or likely worse. Tug him by his ear to her doorstep. "He... That's just ridiculous."

"I'm so ***damn angry." The words were whispered and dripped with ill-contained rage. "As far as I'm concerned, he got Deacon killed."

Inhale. ... ... ... "Who did it, Cait? I mean really did it."

"I don't know."

... ... "I'm sorry."

"I just can't--" Pause. "There's someone at the door." Shaky, quickened breaths gave her fear away. Footsteps. Silence. "It's Cris. Oh my God, it's Cris."

"Jesus Christ..." Irritated exhale. "Want me to call him?"

Cait watched him from the window, seething with anger at the mere sight of him.

?No,? she told Alex. Then, loudly, "Go away!"

"I swear, I will be over there in ten minutes if you need me to be..."

Her gaze through the window met him with his hand against the rough plane of his jaw. Cris looked aside and closed his eyes to cage the storm. "I will, once we talk."

?Cait?? Alex?s voice drew her attention away from the window.

"No. No, I'll handle this."

A very angry and tear-stained face greeted the Shadowhunter. She was holding a phone to her ear and spoke into it. "I'll have to call you back, Alex." Puffy red eyes swung back up to glare at the man she used to call a good friend. "Fine. Let's talk about how you need to get the hell off my porch you sonofa*****." She probably wasn't all that scary-looking, but Cait felt so immensely powerful at the moment with rage surging through her veins.

"Cai...." His scowl tightened, but not with frustration this time. "I didn't imagine it, did I? All of the tracking, the emptiness of his home.... What happened?"

Tears sprang into those wide, angry brown eyes. Caitlin launched herself from the doorway at Cris, phone dropping to the stone steps as she balled her hands into fists, aiming to drive them against his chest. Her goal was to shove him down the stairs, but she was a little thing without much proper form. "He's dead," a panicked cry, mixed with anger. "You got him killed!"

"Stop---stop, hey!" The first three of her blows hit him square and drove him backward, but it was on the fourth that he caught at her wrists, advanced the few steps she'd gained, with the intention of putting her back to the wall and hold her there. "What did he do? Where did he go?" There was a chirp from his pocket, a sickeningly cheerful sound considering the moment.

"Let go of me!" She wrestled against him, trying in vain to pull her arms free.

"Cait, would you for ****ing once just tell me something. What happened? Where did he go?"

Her phone, which was lying on the porch and surprisingly not in several pieces, chirped too. But it wasn't enough to draw her gaze away from Cris' face. Mustering all the contempt she could, each word was emphasized slowly as it left her mouth. "Kyle couldn't get to him in time. So they tortured him. Cut off his finger and left it in my mailbox. And when they got bored, they killed him."

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare at her. He felt the battering rams of her words charge into the brick walls he'd put up within his mind, surrounding his core. He dropped his hands from her wrists, stepped back, and put one fist to his brow. "For the Angel's ****ing sake.... Cait---"

Finally free, Caitlin rubbed at her right wrist as though he'd hurt her. Face screwed up as sadness and hurt began to replace rage. "Why?" Her voice splintered into a sob. After a sharp inhale, she spoke with more force. "Why?! You held on to those stupid texts for so long!"

"Because I did not know what was going on! He'd spoken to me about a business venture he'd wanted me to accompany him on, that was it. I heard nothing else. I thought he would tell you something, I told him to tell you something. I told him not to do anything stupid, and I heard nothing from him.

"Why did he not realize he was putting you in an abominable situation?"

"He asked you to do one thing! If Kyle had been able to get Deacon's note sooner, maybe none of this would have happened!" Her yelling was certain to gain attention to anyone out walking their dog right now. Hopefully they didn't wake their landlady. "Instead you just...you wouldn't have told me at all if I hadn't mentioned he was still gone. What kind of friend does that?!"

"What kind of ****ing man does this to people!? To people he supposedly ****ing cares about, why would he go off, why would he tell me!?" Yelling and his voice did not mix well. Too much volume, too much force broke it in places when it rose, scraping his throat and burning. "He had no right to do this, he had no right to tell me.... I wanted to believe he wasn't this stupid."

"Don't act like you aren't a part of the problem," she screeched back, arms stretched out to shove him once more. "Stop trying to act like you had a right to keep that information from me. You could have told me the day you got the ****ing text that he was being an idiot!

"But no!" Another shove. "I just had to wonder where the hell he was all that time."

This time, he took it. He took the backward step she'd forced on him, clenching his teeth like the tension would block his ears to the truth.

And the second one. He put out his hand to catch the railing and keep his balance.

"Hey!" It was Alex.

Caitlin barely glanced at the blond who was suddenly on the scene. She must?ve decided to make sure Cait didn?t maim her fight club buddy. The venomous gaze returned to Cris. "I hate you. I ****ing hate you so much!" Hands were pressed against his chest now, trying to make him move but getting nowhere. Her sobs were growing louder and her shoving getting weaker. "You killed him!" Another splintering cry. "You....you killed....him." For a moment, her fists gripped his shirt as her knees buckled, but then Cait let go of him altogether, trying to turn away as she crumpled onto the porch.

He'd been worried about it, but he'd stuffed it down into a place that didn't matter. He'd hoped that the stretch of time, Cait's absence, had meant that Deacon had come back, that everything was fine, and normal.

He'd told Alex. Who was now storming her way up the porch. But Cait did not need to know that. He'd been the reason she'd lost enough already.

"Oh ****. Cait!" Alex was over to the brunette's side before anything - no slicing glare, no angry confusion. Sliding to her knees, uncaring that her momentum hadn't stopped and that her bones jarred against the stone, there was an arm scooping around her broken friend's shoulders, the other circling around in front to complete the embrace. "Cait, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. Shh..."

Something in the back of Cait?s mind finally broke through the noise and alerted her better senses that she was making a huge scene. She was showing too much. Letting them see a portion of herself she'd never wanted anyone to witness. There were arms around her, strong yet feminine. When she inhaled, she didn't smell mint. It was enough to keep her from recoiling. But quiet herself, she did. It took a bit of work, but the sobs lowered in volume and intensity, until they stopped altogether.

Alex gave her friend a gentle, but firm, squeeze as she felt the strength of the sorrow slip away. "You're gonna be okay," she murmured again, touching her mouth briefly, and barely, to Cait's shoulder. Glancing up behind them, her eyes rose until they found Cris's face.

"Cait, I told you that if this happened," he shook his head, "I wouldn't be able to express to you....anything." Looking up, he found Alex's gaze on him instead. He shifted his gaze back to Cait. "I'm sorry." One step backward, and down.

She was on the verge of apologizing for such an unacceptable outburst, for laying hands on a person like that, when Cris opened his mouth again. Brown eyes swiveled up to stare at him as she pulled away from Alex's embrace. Nostrils flared and her jaw ached from being clenched so hard. Snatching the phone she'd dropped earlier, Caitlin got up off the porch and brushed off her knees. Without so much as a glance to either of them, she stepped over the threshold to her apartment and put a hand on the doorknob. "Leave me alone," Low and monotone address before the door was shut behind her.

***

It was all she could do; listen to the two of them, watch as one retreated, slowly, and the other banished them both from her presence. Alex remained on her knees, ignoring their busy ache, and stared after the brunette long after her image was gone. Finally, after however long, her gaze peeled away from the shut door to where Cris had backed off to. Hand on the rail, she picked herself up. The step toward him surprised her. "Come on," as she moved to join him in descending the stairs.

Come on, she said. But he didn't move. He let her pass him, with his gaze on the door Cait had closed. He thought he would feel more. He thought it would bother him more. And perhaps it would have, had it really been, completely, his fault. He welcomed the rush of regret as proof that he had not yet died, turned, and followed Alex down. "I didn't know until a few hours ago."

"I just found out," she replied, leading the way, one hand back on the rail. She used it as an anchoring point when she got to the bottom, hoisting herself away from the steps before releasing, sliding both hands up and into her hair. She didn't go far. "This is such a fucking mess," she said, turning to face him, fingers still buried beneath satin gold.

"She's right. I could have told her sooner." She stopped, and he kept going. "It is a mess. But now, there's even less that we can do for her."

"I didn't even think any of this was such a big ****ing deal. I thought everything was fine." Her mind was a blur, memory refusing to cooperate. It frustrated her, created a fresh, dull ache directly beneath her skull. Falling back into step again, she took to his side. "Do you know anything about what happened? Who would have done it?"

"No. I know nothing. I've barely spoken to her lately, ever since the last time we discussed Deacon. And he, himself, told me very little about what he was doing." Exhaling, he put pressure on his temples. "Look, nothing we say, nothing we do about it now will help. He's gone. Dead. He's gotten himself killed for nothing.

"No matter how much she tells you to leave her alone, she does not really want that. No one does, beneath it all. She just can't feel it right now."

"So you think forcing her to be with us is a good idea, that it'll work?" She turned a carefully tailored eye upon him - clear and sharp, but void of anything worth detecting, save for maybe a little scrutiny. She also knew, felt, remembered, more than she let on. "I'll keep an eye on her," was what she allowed, "even if she's pissed at me. She'll forget to eat. I'll make sure she remembers."

"Why would she be angry with you? You did not withhold information from her." There was a little more force in the statement than there should have been, a pointed look and a loft of dark brows. "You will not be forcing us. Just you." Hand pushed through his hair, once he passed the stairwell that led to his own door, he turned the corner.

The look she had been giving him transformed into something related to a glare. A distant cousin, not so inherent of the bold physical trait. "I didn't know anything like this was going on," which wasn't a lie. "You know what I meant." She slowed at the same corner. "She won't stay mad forever, Cris. She just needs someone to blame and, right now, that's you." Another shift of features, this one resembling apology.

Key into the ignition, when he coasted forward on a motorcycle that had been hiding under a glamour against his wall, he had his gaze trained down on a phone in his hand. Two texts, thumbed swiftly. "That was my point, Alex. I don't mind being that for her. If that helps. That is what I can do." Sliding the phone into his gear. She did not tower over him, but seated, he found that he had to look up. "I'll be fine."

The motorcycle was glanced over as it rolled out, giving Cris some time to send off his texts and look up at her without feeling the weight of the blues that would, eventually, find him again. After a good amount of seconds, "Of course you will." A half-second, then, "I'm going to make sure you remember to eat, too, though." And before he could fuss about it, she stepped to pass in front of him and the bike, fingertips sliding into her pockets. The sleek machine got another glance. "Nice ride," with the upward motion of her jaw.

"Given Cait's current feelings about me, I doubt that would be wise. Trust me." There was a helmet between his legs, his palm keeping it there. The bike rumbled beneath him and he felt it in his chest, deadening everything else. "The best way that you can take care of me will be to make sure we don't lose her."

"I don't care what's wise. You're still my friend." Too much force, almost a snap. Too much pressure on a sagging board just waiting to crack. "I'm not the best person at that sort of thing." She had stopped two steps past, turned halfway toward him. Her gaze didn't want to meet his. "Really, I'm not. But I'll do what I can. I don't want to lose her, too."

"Nonsense," without hesitation. "You're there when I need you. And I appreciate that. Yes? I trust you. And so does Cait. More than she does me." One rev to the engine, then two. "You don't need to be good. You simply need to be there."

If only she had his confidence in herself. But she forgave him the mistake -- he didn't know. "I will be." Cell phone produced, she sent off a quick text. Sliding it back into her pocket, she glanced up to the empty porch above. "If you keep teasing me with that bike, you're going to find yourself with a passenger."

"Yes, well---" it felt wrong to joke. The weight of it sat wrong on his shoulders. He took the helmet in his palms. "---I'll relieve you from feeling that." Settling it on his head, when he eased forward, he put his hand against her elbow. Then, with one, angry churn of the engine, he shot forward.

It all felt wrong to her. Where had the bad turn been? Where were all the warning signs? No where. This was just how things went, came and gone and stayed. Her eyes twitched at the touch, but she didn't let them close until the roar of the motorcycle ate away at her company. Dry lips thinned and nails dug into the fabric lining of empty pockets. A moment later and a knuckle wiped away a trickle of crimson, before she turned and made her way for the nearest liquor store.