23:00- Transitus
Series: Hunter's Path
Pairing: James/Claudia
Word Count: 1,626
24hour_themes prompt: Coping with drastic change in a positive manner
Chapters: Master List
Infitialis | Latere | Abeo | Obsidis | Videlicet | Praesidium | Transitus | Mutatio | Umbra | Terminare | Constantia | Autus | Salvus | Gubernatio | Spero | Animus | Consensio | Discrimen | Consilium | Veritas | Phoebus | Fortuna | Sensus | Victoria
It still boggled her mind. Not that Gypsy was head over heels for Montecchi. Any fool with half-functioning eyes in his head could tell that. A blind halfwit in a coma would tell Rome-- Montecchi was smitten with her friend as well. It didn't exactly take a genius or anything. It was all in the looks after all, and it wasn't like there was any shortage of them. Knowing it to one's own self was one thing, though, but hearing your thoughts verbally (and tearfully) confirmed was something else all together.
No, what really blew her mind was the revelation about her own feelings, for James of all people. No, that wasn't the best way to put it. It was inevitable. After all, hadn't she been the one to decide their jagged edges fit together perfect to make each other complete? This revelation sprang from that one. So, really, she should have seen this one coming, but somehow she hadn't. That bothered her, along with the wondering if she was alone in this or if James maybe felt something similar.
There would be no rushing into the this though. She'd very rarely in her life let her emotions get the better of her, one example of which being her quick decision to come back against all advice and the Order's dire warnings the moment she'd heard Gypsy was in danger, and this was not going to be one of those times... at least not in this initial information-gathering stage. And that was all it was going to be for now, till she knew where they stood.
And there was something she had to do, something that simply couldn't be put off any longer... if she could find the bastard. He was in his room, nor anywhere on the main floors that she could think to check. If he'd already left to go patrolling -- or had gone directly from class as he'd done the night before -- then she was shit out of luck till dawn. She did still have one place to try, somewhere she'd put off till last.
Out of habit, she moved silently down the wooden stairs, avoiding the places where they tended to creak. The gouges along the wall where one of the heavy oak benches lining the front hall had been brought down to lock her and James in once, nearly six weeks ago, had been plastered over and repainted, but a careful eye could catch them. Usually she made a sport of identifying as many as she could, but tonight she was too distracted.
The door to their training room had long since been replaced. The wood had been gouged from the bench on one side, and she'd shot it from the other. Of course, if one didn't know about that having occurred, one would think it was the same door, they were so closely identical.
With some trepidation, she pushed it open to the nearly pitch-black room. The only light that entered, excepting what came from behind her, came from the small window they'd had to climb out when they'd been trapped in here, casting ominous shadows on the equipment she'd had brought in the day after that. At first glance, there was no sigh of her quarry, but just to be certain, she flipped on the light and took a closer inventory.
No James.
With a purely mental sigh, she flipped the light off and trudged back up the sitars, immediately making another turn and up towards her room. When exactly had she relaxed enough to quit carrying her gun in the house? She still wore her specially created shoulder holster, designed for a quicker left-handed draw, almost like suspenders over her white tanktop, but she'd left her gun sitting on her bedside table.
Fishing the key out of her jeans pocket, she unlocked the door to her room, and without even looking up, she slipped back in and pushed it closed again. Only then did she look up and freeze.
Of all the places in the Camp she'd looked, she hadn't -- and probably never would have -- thought to check her own room for the tricky bastard. She'd have never guessed she'd find him sitting in the chair he seemed to prefer that had come with the room, fiddling with her gun. He looked... pretty much like she felt. "What the hell are you doing here, James?" she exploded.
Apparently either she hadn't made much noise coming in or he'd been too lost in thought to hear her, but either way he started like she'd surprised him. Naturally, he recovered quickly though and fired right back, "Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for you."
"I've been looking for you." It was hard not to snap off an insult to go with her harsh tone. She stomped across the room and snatched her gun, shoving it down in her holster. Only once that was done could she breathe again. "Why are you in my room at a half hour till midnight? It's not like this is a typical place to find me."
"You were here all last night," he countered.
She scowled at the reminder, then the expression darkened as another thought occurred to her. "Just how did you get in here?"
A shrug, not of lack of comprehension but of nonchalance. "I picked the lock. I knew you'd show up here eventually, so it seemed like the best place to wait."
She sank to sit on the low ottoman before his chair. "You wanted to see me?"
"I wanted to... apologize. I've been acting like an ass."
Suddenly she could breathe again. "No, I'm sorry, James. I should have told you..." She trailed off. She couldn't help it; she still wasn't sure this was such a good idea. She took a deep breath then, against her better judgment, continued. "The informant did show up."
James smiled tightly. "I thought he probably did. What did he have to say?"
There was no real easing into this. "The Order has someone watching me every minute I'm not in the Camp. Apparently, they've decided I've turned rogue," she resolutely ignored the darkening look on his face, "because I've been helping the du Prebeau family."
"Is that all?" Somehow she had the urge to say his voice was deceptively calm.
She bit her lip worriedly but finally shook her head. "There are rumors that they might send someone after me."
"For helping us?" Again, too calm. But she nodded. "Then quit helping us!" And there was the familiar explosion. Suddenly she wasn't on as unfamiliar territory. "Quit patrolling! Do you think part of it might be you living here with us? Should I start getting you an apartment set up in the city?"
It was a nice thought, that he at least worried about her. That was more than she'd hoped for. "I'm not quitting, and I'm not leaving you and Gypsy." Her tone was final, but she could tell she was going to have to argue this.
"Maybe you're happy risking your life, but I'm not about to start it also." He sat forward in the chair, raising one hand to her cheek. "I don't want to... I don't want anything to happen to you."
She lifted a hand to his wrist. Strange. She'd known all the du Prebeaus were pale and that, thanks to all those soccer matches, James was a bit darker than most, but next to her olive skin, his looked white as a ghost. "Jamey, all I know how to do is hunt. It's what I've spent the last ten years of my life doing. Don't ask me to give it up on the threat of a rumor. I don't think I can agree to that."
His hand dropped to grip her shoulder, and she let hers fall to her lap. Only, he had slid so far forward till it was it partially on his legs as well. "Then we'll be more cautious: always go out only in pairs, train some more people as Enforcers."
"What other people?" Someone was actually interested in doing the same crap they were?
"Romeo's interested. So are John and Sara. There might be a couple more. The point is, it doesn't have to be just us out there, putting you in danger."
She could argue, but... "All right. I'll agree to those terms."
He smile ruefully, a boyish half-grin that did strange things to her stomach. "Good. I failed debate. You'd have probably won." She punched him lightly in the arm. "Oww! What was that for?"
"For being an ass." She grinned faintly. "Fine. We'll train Montecchi and whoever else you can come up with."
"And you'll agree to working in pairs?" he pursed doggedly. If she really still needed proof, maybe this should be it.
"I said I agreed to your terms, or did you miss that part?"
"Don't keep anything like this from me again, please?" She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that was more than she could promise, when he pushed on, "I'll help you keep it from Gypsy, if you want, but at least tell me."
She weighed the idea carefully for several long minutes, turning it over again and again in her mind, picking its validity apart. It rankled against her sense of professional pride, but it did make a sort of sense, damn it. And if they were going to work as partners, they both needed to be on the up-and-up. "...Fine, I'll go with that also, but don't push your luck for anything else."
There was that little boy grin again, and something inside her did some impressive acrobatics. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Pairing: James/Claudia
Word Count: 1,626
24hour_themes prompt: Coping with drastic change in a positive manner
Chapters: Master List
Infitialis | Latere | Abeo | Obsidis | Videlicet | Praesidium | Transitus | Mutatio | Umbra | Terminare | Constantia | Autus | Salvus | Gubernatio | Spero | Animus | Consensio | Discrimen | Consilium | Veritas | Phoebus | Fortuna | Sensus | Victoria
It still boggled her mind. Not that Gypsy was head over heels for Montecchi. Any fool with half-functioning eyes in his head could tell that. A blind halfwit in a coma would tell Rome-- Montecchi was smitten with her friend as well. It didn't exactly take a genius or anything. It was all in the looks after all, and it wasn't like there was any shortage of them. Knowing it to one's own self was one thing, though, but hearing your thoughts verbally (and tearfully) confirmed was something else all together.
No, what really blew her mind was the revelation about her own feelings, for James of all people. No, that wasn't the best way to put it. It was inevitable. After all, hadn't she been the one to decide their jagged edges fit together perfect to make each other complete? This revelation sprang from that one. So, really, she should have seen this one coming, but somehow she hadn't. That bothered her, along with the wondering if she was alone in this or if James maybe felt something similar.
There would be no rushing into the this though. She'd very rarely in her life let her emotions get the better of her, one example of which being her quick decision to come back against all advice and the Order's dire warnings the moment she'd heard Gypsy was in danger, and this was not going to be one of those times... at least not in this initial information-gathering stage. And that was all it was going to be for now, till she knew where they stood.
And there was something she had to do, something that simply couldn't be put off any longer... if she could find the bastard. He was in his room, nor anywhere on the main floors that she could think to check. If he'd already left to go patrolling -- or had gone directly from class as he'd done the night before -- then she was shit out of luck till dawn. She did still have one place to try, somewhere she'd put off till last.
Out of habit, she moved silently down the wooden stairs, avoiding the places where they tended to creak. The gouges along the wall where one of the heavy oak benches lining the front hall had been brought down to lock her and James in once, nearly six weeks ago, had been plastered over and repainted, but a careful eye could catch them. Usually she made a sport of identifying as many as she could, but tonight she was too distracted.
The door to their training room had long since been replaced. The wood had been gouged from the bench on one side, and she'd shot it from the other. Of course, if one didn't know about that having occurred, one would think it was the same door, they were so closely identical.
With some trepidation, she pushed it open to the nearly pitch-black room. The only light that entered, excepting what came from behind her, came from the small window they'd had to climb out when they'd been trapped in here, casting ominous shadows on the equipment she'd had brought in the day after that. At first glance, there was no sigh of her quarry, but just to be certain, she flipped on the light and took a closer inventory.
No James.
With a purely mental sigh, she flipped the light off and trudged back up the sitars, immediately making another turn and up towards her room. When exactly had she relaxed enough to quit carrying her gun in the house? She still wore her specially created shoulder holster, designed for a quicker left-handed draw, almost like suspenders over her white tanktop, but she'd left her gun sitting on her bedside table.
Fishing the key out of her jeans pocket, she unlocked the door to her room, and without even looking up, she slipped back in and pushed it closed again. Only then did she look up and freeze.
Of all the places in the Camp she'd looked, she hadn't -- and probably never would have -- thought to check her own room for the tricky bastard. She'd have never guessed she'd find him sitting in the chair he seemed to prefer that had come with the room, fiddling with her gun. He looked... pretty much like she felt. "What the hell are you doing here, James?" she exploded.
Apparently either she hadn't made much noise coming in or he'd been too lost in thought to hear her, but either way he started like she'd surprised him. Naturally, he recovered quickly though and fired right back, "Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for you."
"I've been looking for you." It was hard not to snap off an insult to go with her harsh tone. She stomped across the room and snatched her gun, shoving it down in her holster. Only once that was done could she breathe again. "Why are you in my room at a half hour till midnight? It's not like this is a typical place to find me."
"You were here all last night," he countered.
She scowled at the reminder, then the expression darkened as another thought occurred to her. "Just how did you get in here?"
A shrug, not of lack of comprehension but of nonchalance. "I picked the lock. I knew you'd show up here eventually, so it seemed like the best place to wait."
She sank to sit on the low ottoman before his chair. "You wanted to see me?"
"I wanted to... apologize. I've been acting like an ass."
Suddenly she could breathe again. "No, I'm sorry, James. I should have told you..." She trailed off. She couldn't help it; she still wasn't sure this was such a good idea. She took a deep breath then, against her better judgment, continued. "The informant did show up."
James smiled tightly. "I thought he probably did. What did he have to say?"
There was no real easing into this. "The Order has someone watching me every minute I'm not in the Camp. Apparently, they've decided I've turned rogue," she resolutely ignored the darkening look on his face, "because I've been helping the du Prebeau family."
"Is that all?" Somehow she had the urge to say his voice was deceptively calm.
She bit her lip worriedly but finally shook her head. "There are rumors that they might send someone after me."
"For helping us?" Again, too calm. But she nodded. "Then quit helping us!" And there was the familiar explosion. Suddenly she wasn't on as unfamiliar territory. "Quit patrolling! Do you think part of it might be you living here with us? Should I start getting you an apartment set up in the city?"
It was a nice thought, that he at least worried about her. That was more than she'd hoped for. "I'm not quitting, and I'm not leaving you and Gypsy." Her tone was final, but she could tell she was going to have to argue this.
"Maybe you're happy risking your life, but I'm not about to start it also." He sat forward in the chair, raising one hand to her cheek. "I don't want to... I don't want anything to happen to you."
She lifted a hand to his wrist. Strange. She'd known all the du Prebeaus were pale and that, thanks to all those soccer matches, James was a bit darker than most, but next to her olive skin, his looked white as a ghost. "Jamey, all I know how to do is hunt. It's what I've spent the last ten years of my life doing. Don't ask me to give it up on the threat of a rumor. I don't think I can agree to that."
His hand dropped to grip her shoulder, and she let hers fall to her lap. Only, he had slid so far forward till it was it partially on his legs as well. "Then we'll be more cautious: always go out only in pairs, train some more people as Enforcers."
"What other people?" Someone was actually interested in doing the same crap they were?
"Romeo's interested. So are John and Sara. There might be a couple more. The point is, it doesn't have to be just us out there, putting you in danger."
She could argue, but... "All right. I'll agree to those terms."
He smile ruefully, a boyish half-grin that did strange things to her stomach. "Good. I failed debate. You'd have probably won." She punched him lightly in the arm. "Oww! What was that for?"
"For being an ass." She grinned faintly. "Fine. We'll train Montecchi and whoever else you can come up with."
"And you'll agree to working in pairs?" he pursed doggedly. If she really still needed proof, maybe this should be it.
"I said I agreed to your terms, or did you miss that part?"
"Don't keep anything like this from me again, please?" She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that was more than she could promise, when he pushed on, "I'll help you keep it from Gypsy, if you want, but at least tell me."
She weighed the idea carefully for several long minutes, turning it over again and again in her mind, picking its validity apart. It rankled against her sense of professional pride, but it did make a sort of sense, damn it. And if they were going to work as partners, they both needed to be on the up-and-up. "...Fine, I'll go with that also, but don't push your luck for anything else."
There was that little boy grin again, and something inside her did some impressive acrobatics. "Wouldn't dream of it."