Prometheus Unbound - ch. 2.1 (12/06/08)
I'm actually not even finished with chapter 2 quite yet, but I thought you'd all been more then patient enough with me so far, so I'm giving you (most of) what I have now, and the rest will follow once I have it completed. ^_^
Title: Prometheus Unbound (2.1/?)
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R (C'mon, it's a sequel to Pantheon. What did you expect? ;) )
Comments: At long last, it's finally here. ^_^ Hopefully you'll like this one as much as you did Pantheon, if not more so. Now, there is going to be a third fandom included this time around, but, as before, I'm not telling you what it is, yet. You'll find out soon enough, don't worry.
Author's Note: This chapter is a first for me in more then one way, folks. Not only will I be including several songs in their entirety, I'll actually be using the songs, rather then just the lyrics. Not only that, but I think it may (thus far) hold the record for number of flashbacks in one chapter. All of which is part of the reason it took so long for me to write. (The rest being, of course, all that pesky offline stuff I keep having to deal with. ^_^) Also, please note (for continuity reasons), this chapter takes place more-or-less concurrently with chapter one.
And as a final word of warning, the first part of this chapter does contain some adult themes and a number of, well, disgusting mental images. Suffice it to say, this is NOT Bethany's finest hour.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.', as I am not Angela Robinson. I also don't own 'The Pretender' (which was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle). Nor do I own , as I am not, nor do I work for, Universal Studios. (Yes, an actual clue! *lol*)
Chapter Two
0416 hours
The universe hated her. That was really the only rational explanation.
Raquel García Méndez groaned and stared up at the ceiling above her bed. She was tempted - oh, so very tempted - to just stay there, and ignore the noise downstairs. But she also knew that if she did, things would just get worse.
There was a crash, what might have been a curse, and drunken giggling.
Letting out a muttered curse of her own, she slid out of bed and headed downstairs. She'd barely had her light off for fifteen minutes this time. Whoever was coming to install the sound dampeners around Kathleen and Monica's new bedroom had damned well better get there tomorrow - no, she amended as she caught sight of her clock before she left her bedroom, today - because she needed some sleep, damn it. And as much as she just wanted to sedate herself so that she could sleep through a nuclear war or something...
Well, the sight at the bottom of the stairs was a rather stark reminder of why she couldn't do that.
She had no idea where Bethany had been tonight, and wasn't sure she cared anymore. Two solid weeks of her coming home hopelessly drunk from some party or other had worn down her empathy sharply. And that was bad enough on its own, but Bethany didn't drink alone.
Hell, she probably got that drunk so that she wouldn't notice that the person or one of the people - anywhere from two to two dozen or more, depending on both her mood and who was available - wasn't Mark.
It wasn't that Raquel couldn't sympathize, really. But when she came home like this, clothes askew and covered in...
She shuddered and moved to help Bethany up the stairs to the bathroom, trying not to notice the way her clothes were sticking to her. "Christ, Bethany. Again?" she grumbled bitterly. Bethany couldn't focus on her enough to give her any kind of coherent answer.
They'd developed something of a routine by this point. Or Raquel had, anyway. Bethany was too tired and drunk to do much thinking at all.
Step One involved getting Bethany to the bathroom before she started to throw up. Unfortunately, this step hadn't always been successful in the past. And while the DEBS did have a good cleaning crew, Bethany didn't want the higher-ups knowing what was going on in her personal life, so she'd had to clean it up on her own the next morning, while still hungover. (Raquel had flat-out refused.) Naturally, that just made her bad mood worse, and by the time that evening had rolled around, she'd gotten so upset that she'd just stormed out of the house and crashed a frat party, where she'd evidently challenged an entire room full of guys to... Well, to something. Raquel had been a little too scared to actually ask.
As it happened, Raquel managed to get her all the way to the toilet this time. It was something of a mixed blessing, though. Not having to clean up any vomit was a good thing, definitely, but as she was holding Bethany's hair back... her hand came into contact with something wet and sticky. She made a disgusted sound and just barely managed not to recoil.
Not for the first time, she wondered just what the hell Bethany had been doing all summer before she'd come back to the academy. Was she only acting like this because she knew Raquel would be there to take care of her, that she could trust Raquel to do so? She barely had any idea what Bethany had been up to all summer, but clearly she hadn't been dealing with Mark's death like she should have been.
Classes started up again in a few days, which meant that missions would, too. And there was no way they'd be cleared to go on any missions with the current state of things.
Once Bethany had seemingly emptied her stomach of everything she'd had to eat or drink in the past year, they moved on to Step Two: Getting her cleaned up.
Raquel had been a bit embarrassed to do this the first one or two times, but by now it was just... something that she had to do. In a clinical and precise manner, she undressed Bethany, all but pushed her into the shower, and turned it on full blast.
Bethany's gasped sputter of shock told her that the temperature was a bit too cold to be tolerable, but she had trouble bringing herself to care. "Listen to me," she snapped, now that Bethany was awake enough to actually hear her. "We are NOT going to keep doing this, do you understand? I don't know why you seem to enjoy letting so many men use you in such a fashion, but it's stopping now. This IS NOT going to happen again."
She unceremoniously soaped her up, then turned her attention to Bethany's hair.
It took her a few seconds to actually work up the nerve to touch it again.
"This is not healthy, and more over, it is not helping. That it keeps happening again and again, day after day, makes that painfully clear. I get that you're upset about Mark, okay?" She ignored Bethany's look of shock as she broke the silent agreement of the house and brought up the taboo subject. "Hell, I liked the guy, too. But he would be appalled and ashamed if he could see you now, and you know it."
She wasn't being at all delicate, but after two weeks of having her sleep schedule thrown off every fucking night, she was far too tense and irritable to pull her punches. "So this is it. This is the last time I'm doing this. Next time you decide to stagger in at an ungodly early hour after a night of debauchery, I'm leaving you down there. Moreover, if this doesn't stop, I'm going to Mister P."
And there it was, the other silent agreement of the squad. If at all possible, they preferred to handle things within the team. Nobody wanted to be the one who turned on the family, who went to their bosses like some kind of narc.
But she'd had it. Fifteen straight days of this was just more then she could take. And it was obvious that Bethany couldn't handle this on her own. If it took getting her professional help to save her from herself, then so be it.
Bethany had a shocked look on her face, so Raquel could only hope that what she'd been saying had penetrated the alcoholic haze enough that she'd remember it in the morning.
Step Three usually involved getting clean clothes for Bethany to change into, helping her to bed, and shoving her soiled clothing into the hamper, but Raquel was really in no mood. So she just let her fall down on to the top of her bed naked and exposed to the world, dropped her dirty clothes in the middle of her room, and stormed out, barely able to keep herself from slamming the door shut behind her.
A few seconds later, she walked back into Bethany's room, looked for a piece of paper and a pen, scrawled a quick note for the blonde, stuck it on top of Bethany's comm where she couldn't help but find it, then left again.
She then went back to the bathroom and washed her hands for about six straight minutes.
No sooner had she gotten back into her own room and started to climb back into bed, then an annoyingly familiar squeak-thump started up on the other side of her wall. And inevitably, quiet groans and moans soon followed.
They were quiet now, anyway. But that would change before long.
Evidently, either Kathleen or Monica had woken up, decided that the other shouldn't be sleeping, and set about trying to wake her up in what was obviously their favorite way.
She had to bit her lip to keep from screaming. Or finding the nearest heavy object and hurling it at the wall. It wasn't that she was against the idea of the two of them being intimate. They were ridiculously in love, and it was nice to see a relationship progressing in such a healthy manner, especially after having to deal with Bethany.
But she simply could not fall asleep while they were moaning and shrieking and screaming. And as irritable as she was right then, just reading and listening to her Sansa wasn't going to cut it this time. Not even her computer could distract her right then.
She had to get out of there. It was an ungodly early hour of the morning, she was so tired that the insides of her eyelashes felt like sandpaper, but her brain wasn't going to stop spinning like the exercise wheel of some demented hamster on crack until she burned off some energy.
So she grabbed her keys and her Sansa, slipped on her earphones, and headed downstairs and out the front door.
How long was she supposed to endure this, anyway? For fuck's sake, she was her squad's leader, not their mother! Not that she would have wanted to be at all connected in any way to Monica's mother, after what she'd heard about what had happened at the beginning of summer break...
And then there was the one little thing she didn't like thinking of, but the thought just wouldn't go away, like an irritating pebble in her shoe that she just couldn't seem to dislodge.
Why was everyone in the house getting some except her?
She settled into a slow jog around the block. She wasn't about to go into the full morning workout routine that she'd developed at such a time, when she was so tired and worn out. She was in no condition for it then, and she knew it. She took her training very seriously, after all. She just... She needed...
Her right hand reflexively drifted over to the metal band on her left wrist, and she chuckled softly despite herself and shook her head.
She knew what she needed.
Who she needed.
(a/n: Okay, I don't know if you'll get more then a 30-second clip here, so if you can't, go here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_rUFOGy67c - because you really need to hear the whole song to get the full effect.)
She'd had bad days before, but this was shaping up into one of the worst ones yet.
It wasn't that something had gone hugely wrong, so much as it was not one single thing was going right. She'd woken up late, the paperwork she'd filled out the day before had been incorrect and thus needed to be redone, the gun she'd been using at the firing range had misfired in such a way that it had burned her, the nurse present had used the wrong kind of lotion on it and triggered an allergic reaction (which had nearly required a trip to the hospital before the real doctor had managed to fix things), she'd somehow lost her favorite pair of running shoes, the exercise bar she'd used in the gym had snapped off in the middle of one of her chin-ups (which resulted in her not only biting her tongue, but also being smacked in the head with the bar; all she knew about that was that it was the result of some experiment in the science lab gone awry, and that it wouldn't be happening again), and when she'd gone out for a run she'd ended up slipping and falling down in the mud left by the recent rainstorm... twice.
By that point, the headache that had been plaguing her since the gym had grown to the point where she felt if she just let out the scream that was building in her throat, it would only make things worse.
Still, she stubbornly continued trying to make it through her day, when any sane person would have gone back to bed and stayed there until it was the next day. Not that anyone who knew her would have been surprised. Her stubbornness had become almost legendary over the past three years. And yet... She was only human. She had limits, and given how tense things had been at home before she'd left (a full two months left in her summer vacation, but Phipps had allowed her to move into the squad's new house early, after some persuasion), she'd already been on edge. This day...
Frankly, she really wanted someone to hug her and tell her things would be all right, only she knew no one there would. And she probably wouldn't have wanted them to try, because they weren't...
She sighed and sat down on a bench, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She'd managed to avoid harassing Amy for any details on Nayana fairly well thus far, not wanting to come across as some kind of stalker. Amy had assured her that she was okay, and said she was trying to integrate herself back into civilian life, with her family. And Raquel was thrilled for her, really she was.
But still, if she could just talk to her, just hear her voice, even for a few minutes...
She was actually about to call Amy on her comm to ask her how possible such a thing might be when she noticed something missing from her wrist.
Where... Where was her bracelet?
Oh, no, no, NO, NO! This was NOT happening! This could NOT be happening!
She was up off the bench like a shot, frantically scouring the ground back the way she'd come while desperately trying to remember the last time she'd seen it on her wrist. She came up blank on both counts, and expanded her search area, figuring that as much as she'd been swinging her arms, it was possible the bracelet could have flown some distance.
It wasn't there. The one thing she had that had been Nayana's, that she'd given her as proof that she'd actually felt something for her, that their time together had maybe meant something (or so Raquel had chosen to interpret it)... and she just lost it.
No longer caring about the pain in her head - it couldn't possibly become any worse then the one in her heart - she fell to her knees and screamed. "What do You want from me?!" she demanded furiously, glaring angrily up at the gray and overcast sky. "I'm doing the best I can, all right?! I'm doing what everybody wanted! I'm being the good girl, the good daughter, the good agent... Do You hear me?" Her fists clenched so tightly she was surprised they didn't start bleeding. "All my life, I've done what was expected of me! But it's just... It's too much! I can't DO this alone, anymore! And when I actually find someone who makes it all bearable, who actually makes me feel worth something, and desirable... You take her away from me, too! I don't care what it is, but damn it all, give me some kind of sign as to what I'm supposed to be doing! If this isn't it, then TELL ME NOW!" She choked out a sob, and became suddenly aware that she wasn't alone.
She hadn't seen or heard anyone approaching, which meant that there were only one or two people it could be. And since she was fairly close to the academy... "Not now, Amy," she muttered as she climbed painfully to her feet. All she wanted to do was go home and cry, maybe curl up with some ice cream or something. Maybe a hot bath.
Maybe she'd never get out of it.
"I just..." Gathering herself together as best she could, she said, with as much dignity as she could muster right then, "I'm having a bad day." And she took off toward her squad's new house without once looking back.
"Wanting, waiting, hoping, praying," Raquel sang quietly to herself as she jogged. She would have loved to sing at the top of her lungs, but she was still in a residential neighborhood, and people were asleep. The lucky bastards. "Oh I feel like I'm suffocating. There's nothing left to lose..."
That had been one godawful day, all right. She'd felt so horribly... defeated, by the time she'd gotten home. All she'd needed was for the skies to open up and try to drown her in a sudden downpour for the cliché to be complete. It hadn't, thankfully - the absolute last thing she'd needed right then was to come down with a cold, or something - but that one minor bit of good fortune had done precious little to improve her mood.
"If all that I have is the sweetest denial, if all I can give is the rest of my life, then I'm over pretending that I can survive without you. Thought I was stronger than love, but I guess that nobody's immune."
At least nothing else had gone wrong that day. She hadn't left the house again once she got back, lest she be struck by an errant city bus or a meteor or something. But maybe God had decided to go easy on her after her little meltdown, as everything in the house had behaved as it should, dinner hadn't spontaneously combusted, and there hadn't been any freak power outages while she was watching The Middleman.
Her subconscious had evidently decided to take pity on her, as well, because after she'd gone to sleep - well after, sometime during the very early hours of the next morning, in fact - it had finally coughed up what she'd wanted... what she'd needed to see.
It was one of the...odder dreams she remembered having.
Not worst - that distinction still went to her nightmare about the corpse-filled DEBS academy and drowning in blood - but strangest.
She 'woke' to find Nayana in her room.
That in and of itself wasn't terribly unusual. She dreamed of Nayana constantly, and being surprised by the other woman in her room was hardly an uncommon theme. But at first, Nayana had seemed... well, almost apologetic at 'waking' her. "Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," Raquel croaked back. She cleared her throat - privately amazed at how real this dream felt (though really, those were the best kind) - and tried again. "Um... hi. What...?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Nayana said, the hint of a smile on her face. She set down the notebook she'd been looking through - Raquel belatedly recognized it as her song book, and felt a flicker of protectiveness mixed with anxiety (Did Nayana like what she'd read?), and just a dash of confusion because usually by now in her other dreams there would be a lot less talking and a lot more... other physical activity - and took a few steps closer to the bed. Raquel struggled to sit up, but felt so drained that all she could manage to do was prop herself up against her pillows a bit.
That was odd. She didn't usually have that kind of problem in her dreams. But then again, considering how she'd felt when she'd fallen asleep, it made sense. She hadn't just been physically tired, she'd been mentally and emotionally drained, too.
Clearly, her subconscious wanted her to try and deal with that.
Sometimes, her self-aware dreams really sucked.
"You never disturb me, you know that," she replied honestly. Nayana raised an eyebrow, and Raquel added, "I mean, much as I enjoy the more... physical dreams, it's always nice to talk to you, too."
Nayana seemed to blink at that, then gave her an odd smile. Part understanding, part resigned, part relieved, and part sad. "Well, you've had a rough day."
Raquel chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't know the half of it."
"Maybe not, but I know enough." She reached out and took Raquel's hand, and she felt something slender and cool being placed on her wrist. "Do be more careful with this, won't you? I won't always be around to find it for you."
This was going to hurt like hell when she woke up and found the bracelet wasn't really there, but for now... She felt tears threaten, and forced them back. Even in her dream, she doubted Nayana wanted to see her cry. "Thank you," she said, trying her best to keep her voice level. She was silent for a long moment, then said, "I'm trying. I'm trying my best to keep my promise - to keep all my promises - and to make you proud of me. It's just so... hard..."
"You're doing fine," Nayana assured her, hand resting on her shoulder. "Raquel... Why aren't you at home?"
"You don't already know?"
"I want you to tell me."
She sighed. "Because... Because I just couldn't take it anymore. The usual politics are bad enough, especially with both sides trying to throw me into the middle whether I want to be there or not, but with the whole push for statehood issue building up more and more, I just... There was too much tension and pressure. I'm actually more relaxed here, where I might be assigned to go on dangerous, possibly life-threatening missions. How wrong is that?"
"Not very wrong at all, really," Nayana murmured, seeming to talk more to herself then Raquel. "They're trying to make you into something you're not, to have you fit into a mold that was never yours to begin with. I can relate."
This was new. None of her other dreams that touched on Nayana's new home life had shown her as not quite happy with how things were progressing. She wanted Nayana to be happy, after all, and since that was what was keeping her away... "Yes, but you know that they love you."
"And you think your family doesn't love you?" Nayana countered, sitting down next to Raquel. She was so close that Raquel could smell the faint scent that was distinctly Nayana - subtle, quiet, a hint of spice, and utterly intoxicating to her. She could never quite manage to find a duplication of it in real life, but her brain had never forgotten it.
"No. I know they do. I just... Sometimes, I wonder if they really respect me. Not my siblings so much as my parents, and grandparents."
"They want what's best for you, I'm sure. They just don't know what that is."
She chuckled tiredly again. "I suppose that's fair. Neither do I."
"I can't tell you that," Nayana said simply. "Ultimately, no one can but you. What I can tell you, however, is that right now, what you need is to rest."
"Just the fact that we're even having this conversation fairly proves that I'm asleep, don't you think?"
Nayana neither agreed nor disagreed. "I didn't say sleep, I said rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard. You're trying to learn, to do too much at once. Yes, exercise and training are essential in your line of work, but you also need to give your body time to recover and properly adjust to what you're expecting of it. I didn't get to be as good as I am overnight. And frankly, you're never going to be as good as me. I mean no insult by it, but I was able to absorb as many disciplines, moves, and fighting styles as I have because I'm a pretender. You don't have that. Pick one style and focus on it. That isn't to say you can't add in elements from others, but trying to learn several separate, radically different styles of martial arts at once will just confuse you. And most of all, you need to relax."
"What do you mean?" Raquel asked, struggling to absorb everything she'd just been told.
"If you get too stressed out, you're just going to end up defeating yourself before anyone else can. You're doing very well - far ahead of what the DEBS have projected for you - so don't ruin it by pushing yourself until you're worn into submission." She idly stroked Raquel's hair, and the younger girl leaned into the contact. "And you don't need to worry about getting my approval. You already have that."
She felt something melt inside her. "I miss you," she whispered. "I know we were only together for such a short time, but... I-I just..."
"I know," Nayana said, gently silencing her. "And you know that you don't need to wait for me. Really, that it would probably be better for you if you didn't."
"No one else draws me in like you do," she said honestly - she was never anything less then that with Nayana, awake or asleep. "Sometimes, I feel like when you left, you... took my heart with you." She shook her head, feeling oddly drowsy. "Stupid, I know. But no one else is all that attractive to me."
"That could change."
"Maybe. But it hasn't, yet." She captured Nayana's hand and gently rubbed her thumb over the back of it. "But then, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how I feel, Miss Pretender."
Nayana seemed oddly uncomfortable. "Emotional issues... have never been my strong point," she admitted. "Enough of this, though. You need to rest - really rest." She placed a gentle kiss on Raquel's forehead. "Sleep, now."
She wanted to protest that she was already asleep, but felt herself drifting off before she could, the dream fading away before her eyes.
Of course, the morning after that, she'd been shocked beyond words to find her missing bracelet securely fastened to her wrist. She'd stared at it dumbfounded for a moment, then realized that Amy must have gone back and found it for her. She'd been about to call her to thank her for that when it occurred to her that Amy must have snuck into her team's old house - where Raquel and her team now lived - to give it back to her, and that her sleeping mind must have incorporated the blonde into her dream, casting her as the only other assassin pretender that she knew of, the one Raquel had really wanted to see.
Immediately after that realization came the mortifying idea that she might have acted... inappropriately toward Amy. It completely explained "Nayana's" uncharacteristic reluctance to get all that physically close to her, and her unexpected sympathy. She knew Amy was able to get into Nayana's head - she'd proven as much back when Kali had been hired to kill Lucy Diamond - and could only hope that what she'd said - assuming that most of the conversation hadn't been a product of Raquel's own mind - was accurate.
After that, it had occurred to her that if any of the dream had come from Amy, she must have been talking in her sleep, at least enough to give the Perfect Score something to work with. That she might have said... and acted out...
Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. Too much for words.
So she'd avoided Amy as best she could for the past two months - easy enough when the other wasn't a student at the academy anymore, and thus didn't hang around the campus; not to mention she was too busy building her and Lucy's dream home - and forced on a pleasant exterior when their paths happened to cross.
Amy seemed determined to play it cool on their rare interactions, as if nothing had happened, and Raquel was grateful for that, happily playing along. Maybe she didn't want Lucy to know what had happened, who knew? Hell, who cared?
She began jogging back toward the house, confident that Kathleen and Monica must have exhausted themselves by then.
If she was lucky, she might even be able to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before she had to get up for breakfast.
It was, after all, the only way to make sure the rest of her team all actually had something to eat in the morning.
She felt another flash of resentment, but pushed it down and kept jogging.
**********************************************
0700 hours
Monica sighed happily as she stretched out, feeling a pleasant soreness throughout her body from last night... and early that morning.
She'd never dreamed that she'd find someone who could make her feel so satisfied. And not just in a physical sense - though Kathleen certainly did that, Monica thought with a grin - but completely.
She was... happy. Never in her life had she felt so balanced, so complete, as she did when she was with Kathleen.
Why can't everyone understand that?
She sighed at the thought, feeling a good part of her happy mood evaporate. Even three months later, it still hurt her.
"Wha's wrong?" Kathleen muttered sleepily as she began to stir, as if she'd somehow sensed her girlfriend's distress even in her sleep.
Monica smiled at her, feeling a fresh surge of love and affection for her. "I'm happy."
Kathleen blinked up at her in confusion, sitting up in bed. "So... what's wrong, then?"
"Why does something have to be wrong?" Kathleen simply folded her arms across her chest, waiting patiently. After being briefly distracted by what that did to her breasts, Monica shook her head and made herself focus on Kathleen's face.
For now.
"Nothing's wrong," she insisted. "I just wish... I wish that people could accept that I love you, and that you make me complete."
Kathleen looked as if she was about to point out that people did accept that - most everyone they knew, in fact - but stopped. She knew who Monica was referring to, after all. She'd been there after it had happened. "Give them time," she said softly.
"That may not be enough."
"Well, that will be their problem, not yours. If they choose to reject such an amazing young woman such as you just because of who you love, then they don't deserve to have you in their lives."
"But they're my parents," Monica insisted, pained.
"That does not give them the right to treat you the way they did," Kathleen replied firmly, locking eyes with Monica. "Nothing does. They're just lucky they were gone by the time I found out what happened."
Monica all but bounced giddily as she watched her parents approach her dorm. True, she could have flown back on her own, but since they'd been nearby anyway on business, they'd insisted on picking her up.
Truth be told, she hardly minded. She missed her family after being away from them for so long. And she could hardly wait to tell them the news.
In most physical respects, she was very obviously her father's daughter. Thomas Ackerman had the same red hair, the same green eyes, the same accent... if a bit thicker. Of course, he was also a good seven or eight inches taller, and had a smattering of freckles that Monica's mother's British ancestry had let her avoid.
The brunette Claudia was actually shorter then her daughter, with her hair barely reaching the bottom of her neck. Monica's older brother, James, more closely resembled their mother, occasionally making it hard for some people who didn't know them to believe the two siblings were even related.
Neither of her parents had even changed out of their business attire, so she knew they must have been eager to see her again, too. She smiled wider as she embraced first one, then the other. She herself was just wearing a pair of blue shorts and a DEBS t-shirt, with a pair of white sneakers. It was, after all, a summer day in Los Angeles. Maybe Raquel liked this kind of weather, but for a Boston-born girl like her, the excessive heat could be a bit much. She had no idea how her parents weren't sweating up a storm.
At least she wouldn't be there during the middle of the summer, when the temperatures would reach their peak. Good air conditioning or not, she knew she'd end up wilting. Boston in the summer could be plenty hot, true, but it didn't frequently hit triple-digits up there. And there wouldn't be nearly as much smog and other air pollution.
She also hoped her parents hadn't caught her wincing when she'd hugged them. The injury to her side was healing quite nicely, true enough, but she still had a ways to go before she was back to perfect health, and she didn't want to worry them.
Of course, that would make picking up the dark red duffel bag that she'd packed some of her clothes and more important items in a bit of a challenge (thankfully, the DEBS would take care of moving the rest of her belongings to the house they'd be living in next semester). To stall for time until she felt able to bend down and pick it up without wincing, she asked, "So, how is everything at home, then? Jimmy told me that the Wilsons were having a bit of trouble with some construction on front of their store."
Claudia's lips thinned, though whether from disapproval at the siblings gossiping or what the family's friends were dealing with, Monica wasn't sure. "They were, yes, but things seem to have straightened out," she said, then changed the subject before Monica could press her for details. "Are you all right? You seem a bit... stiff."
She sighed. "Aye, that I am. I was a wee bit injured on our last mission." Which fairly well pushed the limits of the term 'wee bit' to the breaking point, but she didn't want to go into that now. "I'm sure you've heard about that whole mess with The Centre by now." The story was everywhere, after all. "But don't worry, Kathy's been taking good care of me." Her lips subconsciously pulled up into a warm smile at the thought of her girlfriend.
It didn't go unnoticed. "Monica, is there something you'd care to tell us?" Thomas asked stiffly.
She hesitated, then nodded decisively to herself. "Actually... yes, there is. I know this'll be a shock, but Kathy and I-"
"No."
She blinked at her father in confusion. "I-I'm sorry? No... what?"
"No, you are not going to tell us what you seem to think you are," he replied sternly. "You are not going to try and say that you're engaged in some kind of immoral and perverted... relationship with that girl."
"There is nothing wrong with Kathy!" Monica exclaimed heatedly.
"If she's trying to seduce you into some kind of life of depravity, then there most certainly is," he said coldly. "And keep your voice down, young lady. People can hear you." Indeed, they were drawing a few curious looks from other departing students wandering around the outside of the dorms.
She couldn't have cared less. "Kathy isn't trying to do anything to me!" she told them, speaking even louder then before. "And everyone here already knows about us!"
"How long has this been going on?" Claudia exclaimed, horrified.
"We only got together at the start of the year, and even then we took things extremely slow," she said, trying to will them to understand. "We only came out and made things official shortly before that whole mess with The Centre started."
"And you've been living with this girl?"
"We weren't-"
"Absolutely not," Thomas said, cutting her off. "Like hell am I letting my little girl stay here and be corrupted by that-"
"Shut up!" she shouted, taking them aback. "You have no right to talk about her like that!" She paused as it occurred to her that Raquel must have felt something like this when her teammates were insulting Nayana, and felt a brief flash of shame. "You don't know anything about her-"
"Do NOT take that tone of voice with me, young lady!"
"I love her! Why can't you-"
"Don't you DARE say that!" Claudia said, slapping her hard enough to make her stagger back a step. To her credit, she instantly looked sorry she'd done it, but by then it was too late. The damage was done.
Monica's hand had gone up to her cheek as she looked at her mother in shock. Her mouth moved soundlessly, and Claudia looked away before she could read the question forming there.
Thomas looked uncomfortable, but pressed on. "We're going, now. We're going to have a long talk about this when you get home, young lady. And you're not going to be seeing this 'Kathy' again." As if they'd never met Kathleen. They'd even liked her, at the time.
"I will not," she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. "Let me perfectly clear, then. As long as you continue with this perversion, you will not set one foot inside our house." And with that, he turned and was nearly dragged to their rental car by a visibly unhappy Claudia.
Monica... just stood there.
What had just happened? Why... why had things gone so... so... They...
She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Dimly, she was aware of the tears spilling down her cheeks, and knew some people must have been looking at her, but what did it matter?
What... What was she supposed to do, now? She'd just been... and they had... God, what she wouldn't have given for one of Kathleen's hugs just then...
Kathleen.
Her mind instantly seized on that in desperation, and she turned and ran back inside the dorm, forgetting about her bag completely.
Kathleen's parents had come to pick her up, too, and last Monica knew, they were still packing things up. God, please let her still be there. Please! It was all she could think of. She needed Kathleen.
Understandably, Kathleen was rather surprised when Monica burst into their former room. They'd already said their goodbyes for the summer, after all... not that they wouldn't be keeping in constant contact the entire time they were apart. Not that she had anything against the idea of seeing her girlfriend one more time in the flesh before they had to part company, but the greeting she'd been about to say died on her lips as she got a good look at Monica.
Her face looked... blotchy. Some women could cry and look beautiful, but Monica wasn't one of them. She didn't even seem to really notice that she was crying, which was even more alarming. "Kathy," she choked out, then, heedless of the injury to her side, dashed across the room and flung herself at Kathleen, sending them both to the ground. Kathleen managed to keep them mostly upright as she crashed down onto her knees, Monica's body shaking in her grasp as she heaved heartbroken sobs.
"Baby, what's wrong?" she asked, but that seemed to only make Monica cry harder. So she did the only thing she could think of: she held her, stroked her back, and whispered reassurances. "It's all right. I'm here," she said softly.
"I don't... I don't know what... I-I..."
"Shh..." Her parents had been bringing some of her belongings down to the car, so she'd been the only one still there for Monica's entrance. She was heartily glad now that she hadn't been able to find that book she'd been looking for, or she might have been gone, too. Still, though, as she knelt there, a seemingly shattered Monica in her arms, she didn't really think that they were probably starting to wonder where she was, as the minutes ticked by.
Not until her mother appeared in the doorway saying, "For Heaven's sake, Kathleen, it's just a book..." Her voice trailed off as she got a good look at the sight waiting for her.
"Monica, tell me what happened," Kathleen said, gently but firmly, ignoring her mother for the moment.
"I... I t-told my parents," Monica stammered. "About u-us."
"Ah." Inwardly she swore at the elder Ackermans. How dare they do this to her sweet, innocent Monica? "I take it that things didn't go well?"
Monica sobbed harder. "N-n-no. I, I, I just..." She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "I can't go home."
"Look, baby, I know that the idea can't seem all that appealing-"
"They said so. I can't go home, unless I... unless we..." She started shaking, and Kathleen worried vaguely that she might be going into shock.
She knew she was certainly shocked. They'd kicked her out? For being gay? Her own parents? "Are you sure that they... I mean, they were probably upset..."
"I-I'll say."
And, now that she'd pulled back a bit, she was able to get a good look at Monica's face. "Monica, look at me," she requested. She reached up to touch Monica's cheek, and the redhead flinched a bit at the contact, drawing in a breath.
"Sorry," she muttered, not meeting Kathleen's eyes. "Stings."
"They hit you?" Kathleen asked, horrified.
"She didn't mean to," Monica said, seemingly by reflex.
"She..." Kathleen shook her head. "You're coming home with me," she decided abruptly.
Monica looked up at her, hope warring with uncertainty. "Are you sure that...? I m-mean, they may not l-let me..." She started to cry again.
Holding her girlfriend tighter against herself, Kathleen shot her mother a pleading look over Monica's shoulder that plainly said 'Fix this!' It had been a while since her daughter had given her that look - since she'd needed to - but that unhesitating trust that her mother could fix everything, could make any problem go away, still lingered.
She was touched.
She was also horrified by what she was able to understand of the girl's sobbed out story. "Kathleen's right, dear. You're going to be coming home with us," she said, walking over and placing a comforting hand on Monica's shoulder. "We've been wanting to get to know you better since Kathleen told us how serious things were getting between you, this'll give us the chance."
"A-are you sure that..."
"Of course you'll be welcome, and of course we have room."
"Thank you, Mrs. Webb." Monica looked relieved... and tired, with lingering shadows of pain still in her eyes.
"Melissa," she corrected gently, smiling faintly.
Monica returned it shakily. "Melissa," she repeated, leaning against Kathleen. She'd started to close her eyes when they suddenly snapped open. "Oh, hell. I left my bag downstairs, didn't I?"
Kathleen chuckled softly. "I'm sure it's still there."
"My hero," Monica said softly, bringing them both back to the present.
"Nobody hurts my baby while I'm around," Kathleen replied, giving her a slow, lingering kiss. The rest of the summer had certainly gone a lot more smoothly then that. And while her parents might have been initially thrown by the idea that their little girl was in love - deeply, fully, completely in love - and probably hadn't wanted to think about her and Monica getting intimate, she'd made it clear that Monica would be staying in her room, end of discussion.
Monica had needed her, had needed to be close to her. Besides, with the wound in her side - and running all the way up from the ground floor of the dorm hadn't done her any favors in that respect - prevented them from engaging in anything terribly strenuous.
For a while.
"Think we should get up now?" Monica asked after she'd pulled back. It had taken her a little while to adjust to summer in Missouri - the temperature and humidity surpassed even what they'd been forced to endure over the course of their last mission in Florida (which, admittedly, had been in October) - and Monica had quickly taken to staying close to the Webb family pool. Kathleen had hardly objected.
"Probably," Kathleen said, somewhat reluctantly. "If we don't, you know Raquel will come get us. And is it me, or has she been a bit... cranky, lately?"
Monica frowned in thought. "Maybe a little? I'm not sure. I... haven't been paying much attention to her. Or anyone other then you, really." And despite how flattering that could have sounded, her voice betrayed some shame regarding that oversight.
"To breakfast, then." Of course, this was somewhat easier said then done. Four girls showering in the morning could end up taking a while, after all. She had no idea what kind of water heater the DEBS house had been equipped with, but it had to be pretty damn powerful to not run out of hot water. Fortunately, Bethany had evidently taken to having her shower before she went to bed at night, and Raquel always seemed to take short showers, as if she had other things she wanted to get done, and that was nothing but an unavoidable interruption.
Kathleen and Monica, of course, tended to shower together, which - in theory - reduced the amount of water used.
Apart from a 'Welcome Back' morning of pancakes, Raquel had made it clear that she was not going to be cooking for them, despite being one of the only two people in the house that really knew anything - at all - about cooking. This morning, they found her sitting at the kitchen table, mechanically eating a bowl of cereal and staring straight ahead at nothing. She did little more then grunt in acknowledgment when Monica said 'good morning'.
Monica frowned as she looked through the cabinet for her Froot Loops. Maybe Kathleen was on to something, here.
Bethany came into the kitchen not long after, giving Raquel an odd look before pouring herself a bowl of Cheerios.
Kathleen shook her head. "Rough night, Beth?" The blonde was moving as slowly as she could get away with, and wincing at every loud noise. She'd done the same thing every morning since they'd gotten back a few days ago - and probably even longer, if she really had been there for a week or two longer then the two of them - so they weren't surprised by this point.
Bethany gave her an unamused look, then poured some milk on her cereal and starting to eat. Kathleen shook her head. Afternoons and evenings were usually fine, but mornings with the squad, lately... "Well, I can already tell this is going to be a fun day."
Raquel glared at her and something that sounded like a rumbling growl emerged from her chest. Blinking in surprise, Kathleen looked her over more carefully.
Her posture spoke of coiled tension, her grip on her spoon periodically became white-knuckled until she noticed what she was doing and made herself loosen her grip, and there were dark circles under her eyes. "Are you all right?" she blurted out before she could think better of it.
"Three. Fucking. Hours."
"Um... What?" They were all looking at her in varying shades of confusion and concern, now.
"That's how much sleep I got last night." Raquel's glare hardened and she finally focused on them. "And between the sex olympics next door and making sure Bethany didn't drown in a puddle of her own vomit, it wasn't even three consecutive hours!"
Monica was turning bright red. Kathleen knew how she felt - the idea that Raquel had heard everything was incerdibly embarrassing - but... "Well, thank you for that mental image while I'm eating," she said of Raquel's statement regarding Bethany, setting her spoon down in her bowl. Bethany herself said nothing, merely shifting in what looked vaguely like guilt.
"Well, if it was the first night that all happened, that might be different. But after fifteen straight days of this..."
"I know, I know, you made yourself very clear last night," Bethany said, staring moodily down at her bowl.
"You mean a few hours ago?" Raquel shot back, obviously not feeling any particular desire to be nice about it. "I should hope so. Because I wasn't kidding."
"I got that."
"That would be nice." They ate in silence for a few minutes before Raquel spoke up again. "All right, then. This is what's going to happen: We have to take care of a few final details today before we can properly take over as Sector One this year. I should hope, by now, you don't need me to tell you exactly what you have to do. I will be heading to the computer lab to make sure everything's squared away on the tech end of things, and that our clearance level is finally as high as it should be." She didn't go into any further detail on that. All four of them knew how big of a headache the red tape for the transition to their senior year had been giving her. "After that, I am going to come back here and catch up on my sleep. And if you interrupt me during that... te pegare tan fuerte, que regresaras al kinder!"
"What?" Bethany asked. She'd picked up a few words of Spanish over the years of rooming with Raquel, but that wasn't among them.
"Just don't wake me up. Trust me."
No, this isn't the end of chapter 2. It was just getting so long that I had to break it up - and frankly, after such a long wait, I thought you all deserved something. So we'll call this chapter 2.1, and I'll work on getting 2.2 out as soon as I can. Really, really sorry for the delay!
Title: Prometheus Unbound (2.1/?)
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R (C'mon, it's a sequel to Pantheon. What did you expect? ;) )
Comments: At long last, it's finally here. ^_^ Hopefully you'll like this one as much as you did Pantheon, if not more so. Now, there is going to be a third fandom included this time around, but, as before, I'm not telling you what it is, yet. You'll find out soon enough, don't worry.
Author's Note: This chapter is a first for me in more then one way, folks. Not only will I be including several songs in their entirety, I'll actually be using the songs, rather then just the lyrics. Not only that, but I think it may (thus far) hold the record for number of flashbacks in one chapter. All of which is part of the reason it took so long for me to write. (The rest being, of course, all that pesky offline stuff I keep having to deal with. ^_^) Also, please note (for continuity reasons), this chapter takes place more-or-less concurrently with chapter one.
And as a final word of warning, the first part of this chapter does contain some adult themes and a number of, well, disgusting mental images. Suffice it to say, this is NOT Bethany's finest hour.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.', as I am not Angela Robinson. I also don't own 'The Pretender' (which was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle). Nor do I own , as I am not, nor do I work for, Universal Studios. (Yes, an actual clue! *lol*)
Chapter Two
0416 hours
The universe hated her. That was really the only rational explanation.
Raquel García Méndez groaned and stared up at the ceiling above her bed. She was tempted - oh, so very tempted - to just stay there, and ignore the noise downstairs. But she also knew that if she did, things would just get worse.
There was a crash, what might have been a curse, and drunken giggling.
Letting out a muttered curse of her own, she slid out of bed and headed downstairs. She'd barely had her light off for fifteen minutes this time. Whoever was coming to install the sound dampeners around Kathleen and Monica's new bedroom had damned well better get there tomorrow - no, she amended as she caught sight of her clock before she left her bedroom, today - because she needed some sleep, damn it. And as much as she just wanted to sedate herself so that she could sleep through a nuclear war or something...
Well, the sight at the bottom of the stairs was a rather stark reminder of why she couldn't do that.
She had no idea where Bethany had been tonight, and wasn't sure she cared anymore. Two solid weeks of her coming home hopelessly drunk from some party or other had worn down her empathy sharply. And that was bad enough on its own, but Bethany didn't drink alone.
Hell, she probably got that drunk so that she wouldn't notice that the person or one of the people - anywhere from two to two dozen or more, depending on both her mood and who was available - wasn't Mark.
It wasn't that Raquel couldn't sympathize, really. But when she came home like this, clothes askew and covered in...
She shuddered and moved to help Bethany up the stairs to the bathroom, trying not to notice the way her clothes were sticking to her. "Christ, Bethany. Again?" she grumbled bitterly. Bethany couldn't focus on her enough to give her any kind of coherent answer.
They'd developed something of a routine by this point. Or Raquel had, anyway. Bethany was too tired and drunk to do much thinking at all.
Step One involved getting Bethany to the bathroom before she started to throw up. Unfortunately, this step hadn't always been successful in the past. And while the DEBS did have a good cleaning crew, Bethany didn't want the higher-ups knowing what was going on in her personal life, so she'd had to clean it up on her own the next morning, while still hungover. (Raquel had flat-out refused.) Naturally, that just made her bad mood worse, and by the time that evening had rolled around, she'd gotten so upset that she'd just stormed out of the house and crashed a frat party, where she'd evidently challenged an entire room full of guys to... Well, to something. Raquel had been a little too scared to actually ask.
As it happened, Raquel managed to get her all the way to the toilet this time. It was something of a mixed blessing, though. Not having to clean up any vomit was a good thing, definitely, but as she was holding Bethany's hair back... her hand came into contact with something wet and sticky. She made a disgusted sound and just barely managed not to recoil.
Not for the first time, she wondered just what the hell Bethany had been doing all summer before she'd come back to the academy. Was she only acting like this because she knew Raquel would be there to take care of her, that she could trust Raquel to do so? She barely had any idea what Bethany had been up to all summer, but clearly she hadn't been dealing with Mark's death like she should have been.
Classes started up again in a few days, which meant that missions would, too. And there was no way they'd be cleared to go on any missions with the current state of things.
Once Bethany had seemingly emptied her stomach of everything she'd had to eat or drink in the past year, they moved on to Step Two: Getting her cleaned up.
Raquel had been a bit embarrassed to do this the first one or two times, but by now it was just... something that she had to do. In a clinical and precise manner, she undressed Bethany, all but pushed her into the shower, and turned it on full blast.
Bethany's gasped sputter of shock told her that the temperature was a bit too cold to be tolerable, but she had trouble bringing herself to care. "Listen to me," she snapped, now that Bethany was awake enough to actually hear her. "We are NOT going to keep doing this, do you understand? I don't know why you seem to enjoy letting so many men use you in such a fashion, but it's stopping now. This IS NOT going to happen again."
She unceremoniously soaped her up, then turned her attention to Bethany's hair.
It took her a few seconds to actually work up the nerve to touch it again.
"This is not healthy, and more over, it is not helping. That it keeps happening again and again, day after day, makes that painfully clear. I get that you're upset about Mark, okay?" She ignored Bethany's look of shock as she broke the silent agreement of the house and brought up the taboo subject. "Hell, I liked the guy, too. But he would be appalled and ashamed if he could see you now, and you know it."
She wasn't being at all delicate, but after two weeks of having her sleep schedule thrown off every fucking night, she was far too tense and irritable to pull her punches. "So this is it. This is the last time I'm doing this. Next time you decide to stagger in at an ungodly early hour after a night of debauchery, I'm leaving you down there. Moreover, if this doesn't stop, I'm going to Mister P."
And there it was, the other silent agreement of the squad. If at all possible, they preferred to handle things within the team. Nobody wanted to be the one who turned on the family, who went to their bosses like some kind of narc.
But she'd had it. Fifteen straight days of this was just more then she could take. And it was obvious that Bethany couldn't handle this on her own. If it took getting her professional help to save her from herself, then so be it.
Bethany had a shocked look on her face, so Raquel could only hope that what she'd been saying had penetrated the alcoholic haze enough that she'd remember it in the morning.
Step Three usually involved getting clean clothes for Bethany to change into, helping her to bed, and shoving her soiled clothing into the hamper, but Raquel was really in no mood. So she just let her fall down on to the top of her bed naked and exposed to the world, dropped her dirty clothes in the middle of her room, and stormed out, barely able to keep herself from slamming the door shut behind her.
A few seconds later, she walked back into Bethany's room, looked for a piece of paper and a pen, scrawled a quick note for the blonde, stuck it on top of Bethany's comm where she couldn't help but find it, then left again.
She then went back to the bathroom and washed her hands for about six straight minutes.
No sooner had she gotten back into her own room and started to climb back into bed, then an annoyingly familiar squeak-thump started up on the other side of her wall. And inevitably, quiet groans and moans soon followed.
They were quiet now, anyway. But that would change before long.
Evidently, either Kathleen or Monica had woken up, decided that the other shouldn't be sleeping, and set about trying to wake her up in what was obviously their favorite way.
She had to bit her lip to keep from screaming. Or finding the nearest heavy object and hurling it at the wall. It wasn't that she was against the idea of the two of them being intimate. They were ridiculously in love, and it was nice to see a relationship progressing in such a healthy manner, especially after having to deal with Bethany.
But she simply could not fall asleep while they were moaning and shrieking and screaming. And as irritable as she was right then, just reading and listening to her Sansa wasn't going to cut it this time. Not even her computer could distract her right then.
She had to get out of there. It was an ungodly early hour of the morning, she was so tired that the insides of her eyelashes felt like sandpaper, but her brain wasn't going to stop spinning like the exercise wheel of some demented hamster on crack until she burned off some energy.
So she grabbed her keys and her Sansa, slipped on her earphones, and headed downstairs and out the front door.
How long was she supposed to endure this, anyway? For fuck's sake, she was her squad's leader, not their mother! Not that she would have wanted to be at all connected in any way to Monica's mother, after what she'd heard about what had happened at the beginning of summer break...
And then there was the one little thing she didn't like thinking of, but the thought just wouldn't go away, like an irritating pebble in her shoe that she just couldn't seem to dislodge.
Why was everyone in the house getting some except her?
She settled into a slow jog around the block. She wasn't about to go into the full morning workout routine that she'd developed at such a time, when she was so tired and worn out. She was in no condition for it then, and she knew it. She took her training very seriously, after all. She just... She needed...
Her right hand reflexively drifted over to the metal band on her left wrist, and she chuckled softly despite herself and shook her head.
She knew what she needed.
Who she needed.
(a/n: Okay, I don't know if you'll get more then a 30-second clip here, so if you can't, go here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_rUFOGy67c - because you really need to hear the whole song to get the full effect.)
She'd had bad days before, but this was shaping up into one of the worst ones yet.
It wasn't that something had gone hugely wrong, so much as it was not one single thing was going right. She'd woken up late, the paperwork she'd filled out the day before had been incorrect and thus needed to be redone, the gun she'd been using at the firing range had misfired in such a way that it had burned her, the nurse present had used the wrong kind of lotion on it and triggered an allergic reaction (which had nearly required a trip to the hospital before the real doctor had managed to fix things), she'd somehow lost her favorite pair of running shoes, the exercise bar she'd used in the gym had snapped off in the middle of one of her chin-ups (which resulted in her not only biting her tongue, but also being smacked in the head with the bar; all she knew about that was that it was the result of some experiment in the science lab gone awry, and that it wouldn't be happening again), and when she'd gone out for a run she'd ended up slipping and falling down in the mud left by the recent rainstorm... twice.
By that point, the headache that had been plaguing her since the gym had grown to the point where she felt if she just let out the scream that was building in her throat, it would only make things worse.
Still, she stubbornly continued trying to make it through her day, when any sane person would have gone back to bed and stayed there until it was the next day. Not that anyone who knew her would have been surprised. Her stubbornness had become almost legendary over the past three years. And yet... She was only human. She had limits, and given how tense things had been at home before she'd left (a full two months left in her summer vacation, but Phipps had allowed her to move into the squad's new house early, after some persuasion), she'd already been on edge. This day...
Frankly, she really wanted someone to hug her and tell her things would be all right, only she knew no one there would. And she probably wouldn't have wanted them to try, because they weren't...
She sighed and sat down on a bench, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She'd managed to avoid harassing Amy for any details on Nayana fairly well thus far, not wanting to come across as some kind of stalker. Amy had assured her that she was okay, and said she was trying to integrate herself back into civilian life, with her family. And Raquel was thrilled for her, really she was.
But still, if she could just talk to her, just hear her voice, even for a few minutes...
She was actually about to call Amy on her comm to ask her how possible such a thing might be when she noticed something missing from her wrist.
Where... Where was her bracelet?
Oh, no, no, NO, NO! This was NOT happening! This could NOT be happening!
She was up off the bench like a shot, frantically scouring the ground back the way she'd come while desperately trying to remember the last time she'd seen it on her wrist. She came up blank on both counts, and expanded her search area, figuring that as much as she'd been swinging her arms, it was possible the bracelet could have flown some distance.
It wasn't there. The one thing she had that had been Nayana's, that she'd given her as proof that she'd actually felt something for her, that their time together had maybe meant something (or so Raquel had chosen to interpret it)... and she just lost it.
No longer caring about the pain in her head - it couldn't possibly become any worse then the one in her heart - she fell to her knees and screamed. "What do You want from me?!" she demanded furiously, glaring angrily up at the gray and overcast sky. "I'm doing the best I can, all right?! I'm doing what everybody wanted! I'm being the good girl, the good daughter, the good agent... Do You hear me?" Her fists clenched so tightly she was surprised they didn't start bleeding. "All my life, I've done what was expected of me! But it's just... It's too much! I can't DO this alone, anymore! And when I actually find someone who makes it all bearable, who actually makes me feel worth something, and desirable... You take her away from me, too! I don't care what it is, but damn it all, give me some kind of sign as to what I'm supposed to be doing! If this isn't it, then TELL ME NOW!" She choked out a sob, and became suddenly aware that she wasn't alone.
She hadn't seen or heard anyone approaching, which meant that there were only one or two people it could be. And since she was fairly close to the academy... "Not now, Amy," she muttered as she climbed painfully to her feet. All she wanted to do was go home and cry, maybe curl up with some ice cream or something. Maybe a hot bath.
Maybe she'd never get out of it.
"I just..." Gathering herself together as best she could, she said, with as much dignity as she could muster right then, "I'm having a bad day." And she took off toward her squad's new house without once looking back.
"Wanting, waiting, hoping, praying," Raquel sang quietly to herself as she jogged. She would have loved to sing at the top of her lungs, but she was still in a residential neighborhood, and people were asleep. The lucky bastards. "Oh I feel like I'm suffocating. There's nothing left to lose..."
That had been one godawful day, all right. She'd felt so horribly... defeated, by the time she'd gotten home. All she'd needed was for the skies to open up and try to drown her in a sudden downpour for the cliché to be complete. It hadn't, thankfully - the absolute last thing she'd needed right then was to come down with a cold, or something - but that one minor bit of good fortune had done precious little to improve her mood.
"If all that I have is the sweetest denial, if all I can give is the rest of my life, then I'm over pretending that I can survive without you. Thought I was stronger than love, but I guess that nobody's immune."
At least nothing else had gone wrong that day. She hadn't left the house again once she got back, lest she be struck by an errant city bus or a meteor or something. But maybe God had decided to go easy on her after her little meltdown, as everything in the house had behaved as it should, dinner hadn't spontaneously combusted, and there hadn't been any freak power outages while she was watching The Middleman.
Her subconscious had evidently decided to take pity on her, as well, because after she'd gone to sleep - well after, sometime during the very early hours of the next morning, in fact - it had finally coughed up what she'd wanted... what she'd needed to see.
It was one of the...odder dreams she remembered having.
Not worst - that distinction still went to her nightmare about the corpse-filled DEBS academy and drowning in blood - but strangest.
She 'woke' to find Nayana in her room.
That in and of itself wasn't terribly unusual. She dreamed of Nayana constantly, and being surprised by the other woman in her room was hardly an uncommon theme. But at first, Nayana had seemed... well, almost apologetic at 'waking' her. "Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," Raquel croaked back. She cleared her throat - privately amazed at how real this dream felt (though really, those were the best kind) - and tried again. "Um... hi. What...?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Nayana said, the hint of a smile on her face. She set down the notebook she'd been looking through - Raquel belatedly recognized it as her song book, and felt a flicker of protectiveness mixed with anxiety (Did Nayana like what she'd read?), and just a dash of confusion because usually by now in her other dreams there would be a lot less talking and a lot more... other physical activity - and took a few steps closer to the bed. Raquel struggled to sit up, but felt so drained that all she could manage to do was prop herself up against her pillows a bit.
That was odd. She didn't usually have that kind of problem in her dreams. But then again, considering how she'd felt when she'd fallen asleep, it made sense. She hadn't just been physically tired, she'd been mentally and emotionally drained, too.
Clearly, her subconscious wanted her to try and deal with that.
Sometimes, her self-aware dreams really sucked.
"You never disturb me, you know that," she replied honestly. Nayana raised an eyebrow, and Raquel added, "I mean, much as I enjoy the more... physical dreams, it's always nice to talk to you, too."
Nayana seemed to blink at that, then gave her an odd smile. Part understanding, part resigned, part relieved, and part sad. "Well, you've had a rough day."
Raquel chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't know the half of it."
"Maybe not, but I know enough." She reached out and took Raquel's hand, and she felt something slender and cool being placed on her wrist. "Do be more careful with this, won't you? I won't always be around to find it for you."
This was going to hurt like hell when she woke up and found the bracelet wasn't really there, but for now... She felt tears threaten, and forced them back. Even in her dream, she doubted Nayana wanted to see her cry. "Thank you," she said, trying her best to keep her voice level. She was silent for a long moment, then said, "I'm trying. I'm trying my best to keep my promise - to keep all my promises - and to make you proud of me. It's just so... hard..."
"You're doing fine," Nayana assured her, hand resting on her shoulder. "Raquel... Why aren't you at home?"
"You don't already know?"
"I want you to tell me."
She sighed. "Because... Because I just couldn't take it anymore. The usual politics are bad enough, especially with both sides trying to throw me into the middle whether I want to be there or not, but with the whole push for statehood issue building up more and more, I just... There was too much tension and pressure. I'm actually more relaxed here, where I might be assigned to go on dangerous, possibly life-threatening missions. How wrong is that?"
"Not very wrong at all, really," Nayana murmured, seeming to talk more to herself then Raquel. "They're trying to make you into something you're not, to have you fit into a mold that was never yours to begin with. I can relate."
This was new. None of her other dreams that touched on Nayana's new home life had shown her as not quite happy with how things were progressing. She wanted Nayana to be happy, after all, and since that was what was keeping her away... "Yes, but you know that they love you."
"And you think your family doesn't love you?" Nayana countered, sitting down next to Raquel. She was so close that Raquel could smell the faint scent that was distinctly Nayana - subtle, quiet, a hint of spice, and utterly intoxicating to her. She could never quite manage to find a duplication of it in real life, but her brain had never forgotten it.
"No. I know they do. I just... Sometimes, I wonder if they really respect me. Not my siblings so much as my parents, and grandparents."
"They want what's best for you, I'm sure. They just don't know what that is."
She chuckled tiredly again. "I suppose that's fair. Neither do I."
"I can't tell you that," Nayana said simply. "Ultimately, no one can but you. What I can tell you, however, is that right now, what you need is to rest."
"Just the fact that we're even having this conversation fairly proves that I'm asleep, don't you think?"
Nayana neither agreed nor disagreed. "I didn't say sleep, I said rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard. You're trying to learn, to do too much at once. Yes, exercise and training are essential in your line of work, but you also need to give your body time to recover and properly adjust to what you're expecting of it. I didn't get to be as good as I am overnight. And frankly, you're never going to be as good as me. I mean no insult by it, but I was able to absorb as many disciplines, moves, and fighting styles as I have because I'm a pretender. You don't have that. Pick one style and focus on it. That isn't to say you can't add in elements from others, but trying to learn several separate, radically different styles of martial arts at once will just confuse you. And most of all, you need to relax."
"What do you mean?" Raquel asked, struggling to absorb everything she'd just been told.
"If you get too stressed out, you're just going to end up defeating yourself before anyone else can. You're doing very well - far ahead of what the DEBS have projected for you - so don't ruin it by pushing yourself until you're worn into submission." She idly stroked Raquel's hair, and the younger girl leaned into the contact. "And you don't need to worry about getting my approval. You already have that."
She felt something melt inside her. "I miss you," she whispered. "I know we were only together for such a short time, but... I-I just..."
"I know," Nayana said, gently silencing her. "And you know that you don't need to wait for me. Really, that it would probably be better for you if you didn't."
"No one else draws me in like you do," she said honestly - she was never anything less then that with Nayana, awake or asleep. "Sometimes, I feel like when you left, you... took my heart with you." She shook her head, feeling oddly drowsy. "Stupid, I know. But no one else is all that attractive to me."
"That could change."
"Maybe. But it hasn't, yet." She captured Nayana's hand and gently rubbed her thumb over the back of it. "But then, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how I feel, Miss Pretender."
Nayana seemed oddly uncomfortable. "Emotional issues... have never been my strong point," she admitted. "Enough of this, though. You need to rest - really rest." She placed a gentle kiss on Raquel's forehead. "Sleep, now."
She wanted to protest that she was already asleep, but felt herself drifting off before she could, the dream fading away before her eyes.
Of course, the morning after that, she'd been shocked beyond words to find her missing bracelet securely fastened to her wrist. She'd stared at it dumbfounded for a moment, then realized that Amy must have gone back and found it for her. She'd been about to call her to thank her for that when it occurred to her that Amy must have snuck into her team's old house - where Raquel and her team now lived - to give it back to her, and that her sleeping mind must have incorporated the blonde into her dream, casting her as the only other assassin pretender that she knew of, the one Raquel had really wanted to see.
Immediately after that realization came the mortifying idea that she might have acted... inappropriately toward Amy. It completely explained "Nayana's" uncharacteristic reluctance to get all that physically close to her, and her unexpected sympathy. She knew Amy was able to get into Nayana's head - she'd proven as much back when Kali had been hired to kill Lucy Diamond - and could only hope that what she'd said - assuming that most of the conversation hadn't been a product of Raquel's own mind - was accurate.
After that, it had occurred to her that if any of the dream had come from Amy, she must have been talking in her sleep, at least enough to give the Perfect Score something to work with. That she might have said... and acted out...
Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. Too much for words.
So she'd avoided Amy as best she could for the past two months - easy enough when the other wasn't a student at the academy anymore, and thus didn't hang around the campus; not to mention she was too busy building her and Lucy's dream home - and forced on a pleasant exterior when their paths happened to cross.
Amy seemed determined to play it cool on their rare interactions, as if nothing had happened, and Raquel was grateful for that, happily playing along. Maybe she didn't want Lucy to know what had happened, who knew? Hell, who cared?
She began jogging back toward the house, confident that Kathleen and Monica must have exhausted themselves by then.
If she was lucky, she might even be able to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before she had to get up for breakfast.
It was, after all, the only way to make sure the rest of her team all actually had something to eat in the morning.
She felt another flash of resentment, but pushed it down and kept jogging.
**********************************************
0700 hours
Monica sighed happily as she stretched out, feeling a pleasant soreness throughout her body from last night... and early that morning.
She'd never dreamed that she'd find someone who could make her feel so satisfied. And not just in a physical sense - though Kathleen certainly did that, Monica thought with a grin - but completely.
She was... happy. Never in her life had she felt so balanced, so complete, as she did when she was with Kathleen.
Why can't everyone understand that?
She sighed at the thought, feeling a good part of her happy mood evaporate. Even three months later, it still hurt her.
"Wha's wrong?" Kathleen muttered sleepily as she began to stir, as if she'd somehow sensed her girlfriend's distress even in her sleep.
Monica smiled at her, feeling a fresh surge of love and affection for her. "I'm happy."
Kathleen blinked up at her in confusion, sitting up in bed. "So... what's wrong, then?"
"Why does something have to be wrong?" Kathleen simply folded her arms across her chest, waiting patiently. After being briefly distracted by what that did to her breasts, Monica shook her head and made herself focus on Kathleen's face.
For now.
"Nothing's wrong," she insisted. "I just wish... I wish that people could accept that I love you, and that you make me complete."
Kathleen looked as if she was about to point out that people did accept that - most everyone they knew, in fact - but stopped. She knew who Monica was referring to, after all. She'd been there after it had happened. "Give them time," she said softly.
"That may not be enough."
"Well, that will be their problem, not yours. If they choose to reject such an amazing young woman such as you just because of who you love, then they don't deserve to have you in their lives."
"But they're my parents," Monica insisted, pained.
"That does not give them the right to treat you the way they did," Kathleen replied firmly, locking eyes with Monica. "Nothing does. They're just lucky they were gone by the time I found out what happened."
Monica all but bounced giddily as she watched her parents approach her dorm. True, she could have flown back on her own, but since they'd been nearby anyway on business, they'd insisted on picking her up.
Truth be told, she hardly minded. She missed her family after being away from them for so long. And she could hardly wait to tell them the news.
In most physical respects, she was very obviously her father's daughter. Thomas Ackerman had the same red hair, the same green eyes, the same accent... if a bit thicker. Of course, he was also a good seven or eight inches taller, and had a smattering of freckles that Monica's mother's British ancestry had let her avoid.
The brunette Claudia was actually shorter then her daughter, with her hair barely reaching the bottom of her neck. Monica's older brother, James, more closely resembled their mother, occasionally making it hard for some people who didn't know them to believe the two siblings were even related.
Neither of her parents had even changed out of their business attire, so she knew they must have been eager to see her again, too. She smiled wider as she embraced first one, then the other. She herself was just wearing a pair of blue shorts and a DEBS t-shirt, with a pair of white sneakers. It was, after all, a summer day in Los Angeles. Maybe Raquel liked this kind of weather, but for a Boston-born girl like her, the excessive heat could be a bit much. She had no idea how her parents weren't sweating up a storm.
At least she wouldn't be there during the middle of the summer, when the temperatures would reach their peak. Good air conditioning or not, she knew she'd end up wilting. Boston in the summer could be plenty hot, true, but it didn't frequently hit triple-digits up there. And there wouldn't be nearly as much smog and other air pollution.
She also hoped her parents hadn't caught her wincing when she'd hugged them. The injury to her side was healing quite nicely, true enough, but she still had a ways to go before she was back to perfect health, and she didn't want to worry them.
Of course, that would make picking up the dark red duffel bag that she'd packed some of her clothes and more important items in a bit of a challenge (thankfully, the DEBS would take care of moving the rest of her belongings to the house they'd be living in next semester). To stall for time until she felt able to bend down and pick it up without wincing, she asked, "So, how is everything at home, then? Jimmy told me that the Wilsons were having a bit of trouble with some construction on front of their store."
Claudia's lips thinned, though whether from disapproval at the siblings gossiping or what the family's friends were dealing with, Monica wasn't sure. "They were, yes, but things seem to have straightened out," she said, then changed the subject before Monica could press her for details. "Are you all right? You seem a bit... stiff."
She sighed. "Aye, that I am. I was a wee bit injured on our last mission." Which fairly well pushed the limits of the term 'wee bit' to the breaking point, but she didn't want to go into that now. "I'm sure you've heard about that whole mess with The Centre by now." The story was everywhere, after all. "But don't worry, Kathy's been taking good care of me." Her lips subconsciously pulled up into a warm smile at the thought of her girlfriend.
It didn't go unnoticed. "Monica, is there something you'd care to tell us?" Thomas asked stiffly.
She hesitated, then nodded decisively to herself. "Actually... yes, there is. I know this'll be a shock, but Kathy and I-"
"No."
She blinked at her father in confusion. "I-I'm sorry? No... what?"
"No, you are not going to tell us what you seem to think you are," he replied sternly. "You are not going to try and say that you're engaged in some kind of immoral and perverted... relationship with that girl."
"There is nothing wrong with Kathy!" Monica exclaimed heatedly.
"If she's trying to seduce you into some kind of life of depravity, then there most certainly is," he said coldly. "And keep your voice down, young lady. People can hear you." Indeed, they were drawing a few curious looks from other departing students wandering around the outside of the dorms.
She couldn't have cared less. "Kathy isn't trying to do anything to me!" she told them, speaking even louder then before. "And everyone here already knows about us!"
"How long has this been going on?" Claudia exclaimed, horrified.
"We only got together at the start of the year, and even then we took things extremely slow," she said, trying to will them to understand. "We only came out and made things official shortly before that whole mess with The Centre started."
"And you've been living with this girl?"
"We weren't-"
"Absolutely not," Thomas said, cutting her off. "Like hell am I letting my little girl stay here and be corrupted by that-"
"Shut up!" she shouted, taking them aback. "You have no right to talk about her like that!" She paused as it occurred to her that Raquel must have felt something like this when her teammates were insulting Nayana, and felt a brief flash of shame. "You don't know anything about her-"
"Do NOT take that tone of voice with me, young lady!"
"I love her! Why can't you-"
"Don't you DARE say that!" Claudia said, slapping her hard enough to make her stagger back a step. To her credit, she instantly looked sorry she'd done it, but by then it was too late. The damage was done.
Monica's hand had gone up to her cheek as she looked at her mother in shock. Her mouth moved soundlessly, and Claudia looked away before she could read the question forming there.
Thomas looked uncomfortable, but pressed on. "We're going, now. We're going to have a long talk about this when you get home, young lady. And you're not going to be seeing this 'Kathy' again." As if they'd never met Kathleen. They'd even liked her, at the time.
"I will not," she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. "Let me perfectly clear, then. As long as you continue with this perversion, you will not set one foot inside our house." And with that, he turned and was nearly dragged to their rental car by a visibly unhappy Claudia.
Monica... just stood there.
What had just happened? Why... why had things gone so... so... They...
She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Dimly, she was aware of the tears spilling down her cheeks, and knew some people must have been looking at her, but what did it matter?
What... What was she supposed to do, now? She'd just been... and they had... God, what she wouldn't have given for one of Kathleen's hugs just then...
Kathleen.
Her mind instantly seized on that in desperation, and she turned and ran back inside the dorm, forgetting about her bag completely.
Kathleen's parents had come to pick her up, too, and last Monica knew, they were still packing things up. God, please let her still be there. Please! It was all she could think of. She needed Kathleen.
Understandably, Kathleen was rather surprised when Monica burst into their former room. They'd already said their goodbyes for the summer, after all... not that they wouldn't be keeping in constant contact the entire time they were apart. Not that she had anything against the idea of seeing her girlfriend one more time in the flesh before they had to part company, but the greeting she'd been about to say died on her lips as she got a good look at Monica.
Her face looked... blotchy. Some women could cry and look beautiful, but Monica wasn't one of them. She didn't even seem to really notice that she was crying, which was even more alarming. "Kathy," she choked out, then, heedless of the injury to her side, dashed across the room and flung herself at Kathleen, sending them both to the ground. Kathleen managed to keep them mostly upright as she crashed down onto her knees, Monica's body shaking in her grasp as she heaved heartbroken sobs.
"Baby, what's wrong?" she asked, but that seemed to only make Monica cry harder. So she did the only thing she could think of: she held her, stroked her back, and whispered reassurances. "It's all right. I'm here," she said softly.
"I don't... I don't know what... I-I..."
"Shh..." Her parents had been bringing some of her belongings down to the car, so she'd been the only one still there for Monica's entrance. She was heartily glad now that she hadn't been able to find that book she'd been looking for, or she might have been gone, too. Still, though, as she knelt there, a seemingly shattered Monica in her arms, she didn't really think that they were probably starting to wonder where she was, as the minutes ticked by.
Not until her mother appeared in the doorway saying, "For Heaven's sake, Kathleen, it's just a book..." Her voice trailed off as she got a good look at the sight waiting for her.
"Monica, tell me what happened," Kathleen said, gently but firmly, ignoring her mother for the moment.
"I... I t-told my parents," Monica stammered. "About u-us."
"Ah." Inwardly she swore at the elder Ackermans. How dare they do this to her sweet, innocent Monica? "I take it that things didn't go well?"
Monica sobbed harder. "N-n-no. I, I, I just..." She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "I can't go home."
"Look, baby, I know that the idea can't seem all that appealing-"
"They said so. I can't go home, unless I... unless we..." She started shaking, and Kathleen worried vaguely that she might be going into shock.
She knew she was certainly shocked. They'd kicked her out? For being gay? Her own parents? "Are you sure that they... I mean, they were probably upset..."
"I-I'll say."
And, now that she'd pulled back a bit, she was able to get a good look at Monica's face. "Monica, look at me," she requested. She reached up to touch Monica's cheek, and the redhead flinched a bit at the contact, drawing in a breath.
"Sorry," she muttered, not meeting Kathleen's eyes. "Stings."
"They hit you?" Kathleen asked, horrified.
"She didn't mean to," Monica said, seemingly by reflex.
"She..." Kathleen shook her head. "You're coming home with me," she decided abruptly.
Monica looked up at her, hope warring with uncertainty. "Are you sure that...? I m-mean, they may not l-let me..." She started to cry again.
Holding her girlfriend tighter against herself, Kathleen shot her mother a pleading look over Monica's shoulder that plainly said 'Fix this!' It had been a while since her daughter had given her that look - since she'd needed to - but that unhesitating trust that her mother could fix everything, could make any problem go away, still lingered.
She was touched.
She was also horrified by what she was able to understand of the girl's sobbed out story. "Kathleen's right, dear. You're going to be coming home with us," she said, walking over and placing a comforting hand on Monica's shoulder. "We've been wanting to get to know you better since Kathleen told us how serious things were getting between you, this'll give us the chance."
"A-are you sure that..."
"Of course you'll be welcome, and of course we have room."
"Thank you, Mrs. Webb." Monica looked relieved... and tired, with lingering shadows of pain still in her eyes.
"Melissa," she corrected gently, smiling faintly.
Monica returned it shakily. "Melissa," she repeated, leaning against Kathleen. She'd started to close her eyes when they suddenly snapped open. "Oh, hell. I left my bag downstairs, didn't I?"
Kathleen chuckled softly. "I'm sure it's still there."
"My hero," Monica said softly, bringing them both back to the present.
"Nobody hurts my baby while I'm around," Kathleen replied, giving her a slow, lingering kiss. The rest of the summer had certainly gone a lot more smoothly then that. And while her parents might have been initially thrown by the idea that their little girl was in love - deeply, fully, completely in love - and probably hadn't wanted to think about her and Monica getting intimate, she'd made it clear that Monica would be staying in her room, end of discussion.
Monica had needed her, had needed to be close to her. Besides, with the wound in her side - and running all the way up from the ground floor of the dorm hadn't done her any favors in that respect - prevented them from engaging in anything terribly strenuous.
For a while.
"Think we should get up now?" Monica asked after she'd pulled back. It had taken her a little while to adjust to summer in Missouri - the temperature and humidity surpassed even what they'd been forced to endure over the course of their last mission in Florida (which, admittedly, had been in October) - and Monica had quickly taken to staying close to the Webb family pool. Kathleen had hardly objected.
"Probably," Kathleen said, somewhat reluctantly. "If we don't, you know Raquel will come get us. And is it me, or has she been a bit... cranky, lately?"
Monica frowned in thought. "Maybe a little? I'm not sure. I... haven't been paying much attention to her. Or anyone other then you, really." And despite how flattering that could have sounded, her voice betrayed some shame regarding that oversight.
"To breakfast, then." Of course, this was somewhat easier said then done. Four girls showering in the morning could end up taking a while, after all. She had no idea what kind of water heater the DEBS house had been equipped with, but it had to be pretty damn powerful to not run out of hot water. Fortunately, Bethany had evidently taken to having her shower before she went to bed at night, and Raquel always seemed to take short showers, as if she had other things she wanted to get done, and that was nothing but an unavoidable interruption.
Kathleen and Monica, of course, tended to shower together, which - in theory - reduced the amount of water used.
Apart from a 'Welcome Back' morning of pancakes, Raquel had made it clear that she was not going to be cooking for them, despite being one of the only two people in the house that really knew anything - at all - about cooking. This morning, they found her sitting at the kitchen table, mechanically eating a bowl of cereal and staring straight ahead at nothing. She did little more then grunt in acknowledgment when Monica said 'good morning'.
Monica frowned as she looked through the cabinet for her Froot Loops. Maybe Kathleen was on to something, here.
Bethany came into the kitchen not long after, giving Raquel an odd look before pouring herself a bowl of Cheerios.
Kathleen shook her head. "Rough night, Beth?" The blonde was moving as slowly as she could get away with, and wincing at every loud noise. She'd done the same thing every morning since they'd gotten back a few days ago - and probably even longer, if she really had been there for a week or two longer then the two of them - so they weren't surprised by this point.
Bethany gave her an unamused look, then poured some milk on her cereal and starting to eat. Kathleen shook her head. Afternoons and evenings were usually fine, but mornings with the squad, lately... "Well, I can already tell this is going to be a fun day."
Raquel glared at her and something that sounded like a rumbling growl emerged from her chest. Blinking in surprise, Kathleen looked her over more carefully.
Her posture spoke of coiled tension, her grip on her spoon periodically became white-knuckled until she noticed what she was doing and made herself loosen her grip, and there were dark circles under her eyes. "Are you all right?" she blurted out before she could think better of it.
"Three. Fucking. Hours."
"Um... What?" They were all looking at her in varying shades of confusion and concern, now.
"That's how much sleep I got last night." Raquel's glare hardened and she finally focused on them. "And between the sex olympics next door and making sure Bethany didn't drown in a puddle of her own vomit, it wasn't even three consecutive hours!"
Monica was turning bright red. Kathleen knew how she felt - the idea that Raquel had heard everything was incerdibly embarrassing - but... "Well, thank you for that mental image while I'm eating," she said of Raquel's statement regarding Bethany, setting her spoon down in her bowl. Bethany herself said nothing, merely shifting in what looked vaguely like guilt.
"Well, if it was the first night that all happened, that might be different. But after fifteen straight days of this..."
"I know, I know, you made yourself very clear last night," Bethany said, staring moodily down at her bowl.
"You mean a few hours ago?" Raquel shot back, obviously not feeling any particular desire to be nice about it. "I should hope so. Because I wasn't kidding."
"I got that."
"That would be nice." They ate in silence for a few minutes before Raquel spoke up again. "All right, then. This is what's going to happen: We have to take care of a few final details today before we can properly take over as Sector One this year. I should hope, by now, you don't need me to tell you exactly what you have to do. I will be heading to the computer lab to make sure everything's squared away on the tech end of things, and that our clearance level is finally as high as it should be." She didn't go into any further detail on that. All four of them knew how big of a headache the red tape for the transition to their senior year had been giving her. "After that, I am going to come back here and catch up on my sleep. And if you interrupt me during that... te pegare tan fuerte, que regresaras al kinder!"
"What?" Bethany asked. She'd picked up a few words of Spanish over the years of rooming with Raquel, but that wasn't among them.
"Just don't wake me up. Trust me."
No, this isn't the end of chapter 2. It was just getting so long that I had to break it up - and frankly, after such a long wait, I thought you all deserved something. So we'll call this chapter 2.1, and I'll work on getting 2.2 out as soon as I can. Really, really sorry for the delay!