(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

February 18, 2007

The nice thing about being able to pass for fully human in this city? You can live anywhere.

Well, anywhere you can afford. But Fitz's day job pays the rent on a nice little one-bedroom in a decent part of town, and his other work is lucrative enough to keep it furnished and stocked (and secured) like someplace much nicer.

He's whistling something under his breath as he steps off the elevator and turns down the hallway.

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

"Don't!" His hand goes up, one finger this close to wagging in admonition. "You don't know the first thing about Angel, you don't get to talk."

Reaching out for Fitz's neck, perfectly capable and aiming to lift him up by the sorry little excuse for a shirt collar. "I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me. Let's take it nice and slow, hm? What. Did. You. Tell. Him?"

[sunnydalealum]

Fitz shrinks back -- and because habit is habit, he's noting the reaction as an interesting data point even as he does it. The green guy doesn't like to hear anyone insulting Angel the Do-gooder Vampire? Well, well --

"I," he swallows, "I was gonna call you with the tip. I was. Like, this weekend."

And if he'd done it sooner, he'd have been able to charge for the information that he's now going to have to give away for nothing.

"He asked if the big cat had any enemies, right? And you know his stories, everybody knows his stories, he probably tells them to paperboys and traffic cops. I gave Wells the Cliffs Notes version, okay? And that's it, I swear."

[nomorekaraoke]

"We both know how good your word is." He stands back, picks up his hat from where it landed on the lavish coffee table. So many pretty things, so many details fighting for his attention, and one, too heavy load settling over his shoulder. Another one.

"You won't hurt my business again, Fitz. I've made sure of that."

[sunnydalealum]

"...what," he says, "made sure, what's that supposed to mean?"

He's afraid he knows all too well what that's supposed to mean, but no. No, that is not happening.

Not to him.

[nomorekaraoke]

"I made an appointment for you with a friend. She should be here any minute now - asked her to pamper you a bit."


Pampering for its own sake as much as for what's to come. Maybe he can keep on telling himself he's doing this because he has to, because he has a reputation and droves of people depending on him for a myriad of reasons, but he can't shake the guilt. He knows what it's like, to have your memories stolen against your will, but he knows who did it, and at least some of the whyfores. He can't give Fitz that luxury. He simply can't afford it.

"Good bye, Gerald... Have a nice life."

[sunnydalealum]

"Wait," and he isn't even sure what's coming out of his mouth anymore, but that look on Lorne's face is even more terrifying than his earlier fury. "No, wait, look, I didn't, I won't --"

This can't happen. It can't.

"Boss, please --"

[nomorekaraoke]

If there was such a thing as fury in Lorne's ever receding emotional arsenal, that last comment would have sent all his sparks a-flying. What it does do, is send the demon into a fit of righteous indignation. He comes to a stop, blood literally boiling; of all the things he could have said, of all the pathetic attempts to weasel his way out of his own mess--

Eyes burning with resentment, Lorne can't keep his voice down, can't do anything to keep his voice in check.

"Boss?! 'Boss, please'? Please don't do this, Boss, I beg you?! I am not your boss, Fitz! Not even when I was did you have the decency to show me the slightest bit of respect!"

He didn't think it could be physically painful just to talk, to skate the line between yelling and having your voice crack from the strain of trying not to. "You're the single most loathsome thing to cross my path, did you know that? You're the kind of demon that gives everyone else a bad reputation, no matter how hard we try to be good people. You drag the whole community through the dirt, fuck the consequences."

The worst part of it all... Lorne will actually miss the stupid critter. "Fuck everything, as long as you get away reasonably unscathed."

It's time to go. It's time to leave before he changes his mind, chickens out and lets Fitz off the hook again. So, he does. Hat on, he hurries out of the too colorful apartment. Before it's too late.

[sunnydalealum]

He’s leaving.

He’s ... leaving. And whoever it is he sent, she’s not here yet. Maybe he can bribe her. Maybe he can get away before she even gets here –

Fitz drags air into his lungs, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t still taste the cigarette smoke like a lingering curse, and makes his way to the front door. Both locks, the deadbolt, the chain, clack clack thunk rattle, and his little fortress is secure for the moment. Time enough to gather a few things, at least. Maybe even time enough to make a few calls, grease the rails ahead of him, see where he’d do best to head next.

He’s making for his wall safe, wondering whether Chicago is far enough away, deciding probably not, already resigning himself to the possibility of having to go West Coast for at least a little while, when he sees the wizened figure sitting in his leather armchair and all the strength goes out of him at once.

“Oh no,” he whispers, barely feeling himself fold up onto the couch, unable to take his eyes off those bright eyes and that gentle smile. “Oh no, no no no, not you.”

[nomorekaraoke]

"Hush now," the old, huddled woman murmurs, reaching for the plate of cookies she's prepared that sits waiting on the coffee table. Holding it out, her eyes grow smaller as if to balance her growing smile. These bakes goods here, they're her pride and joy. Nothing can distract anyone from this fact, not even the paper thin skin, nor the wrinkled old lips or the slicked back, almost starch white hair.

"Have a cookie, dearie. You'll feel better in no time."

[sunnydalealum]

He never saw her arrive. Nobody ever sees her arrive.

"Is that it?" There's no strength in his voice, any more than in his legs; it's not scorn or disbelief in his tone, just the last exhausted struggles of curiosity on the edge of despair. "Is that how you do it? A cookie?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"No, no, don't be silly," she chuckles merrily, her Irish brogue breaking through her crackling old voice. It's the only characteristic the public at large seems to agree on - maybe no one knows who she is, or where she comes from, but her accent is Irish on occasion.

"They'll make you feel better. Would you like some tea? It's very good."

[sunnydalealum]

It smells good, too. Soothing. Calming. It smells like a promise that everything’s going to be okay now.

Fitz swallows hard. "Listen," he mumbles hopelessly, "I can pay you."

[nomorekaraoke]

"I don't much care for money, and information I get plenty of, just asking for it." She picks out one of the cookies for herself - chocolate chip and cherries are her favorite, and she isn't afraid to show it.

"I'm just here to," delicate nibble. "Clean out your office, I suppose you could call it." She giggles again, a creaky old laughter that just goes to show there isn't a mean bone in her little old body.

[sunnydalealum]

That laughter curls around his heart and smothers the last feeble flicker of resistance. The office is up here, he said to Lorne, tapping his forehead, just minutes ago. Ages ago.

She was here the whole time. He never had a chance.

Fitz lets out a tiny soundless breath of despair; he wants to hide his face, or at least close his eyes, and he can't even do that, can't look away from her face. Except it's not even her face he's seeing anymore, just her eyes, just those two mercilessly bright flecks of rock-crystal blue, trapping his own.

"Do it," he whispers. "Just do it."




At the touch of her withered fingers in his hair, he finds he can close his eyes after all, but it doesn't make any difference.