Orange/Trail Mix/French Vanilla/FOTD smoothie
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Shifts universe (Shifts)
Challenge: Orange 16 (play you like a fiddle) [Marina]; French Vanilla 2 (faux pas), Trail Mix 5 (inner space) [Casey]; FOTD (distrain) [both]
Toppings/Extras: Hot Fudge, Sprinkles, Smoothie
Word Count: 1,086
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Abraham and Oriana have words.
Notes: Does what it says on the tin. And then some. Just before the end of Shifts, and Abraham's second character turning point for tonight.
Oriana woke up to a tingly feeling of vague distress-she knew that something was wrong, but could not remember what. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, disorienting her when she tried to sit up. She blindly groped for something with which to support herself. Her hand grasped something solid, and she rubbed at its smooth, notched surface for a moment, trying to figure out what it was.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and frowned in confusion at the carved bedpost she had latched onto, then at the matching end table nearby. "This isn't Isabelle's house," she murmured.
"That would be correct," a familiar voice spoke up.
She jumped and tried to twist to face the speaker, but in her haste she slipped on the sleek bedspread and fell to the floor, landing hard on her rear end and spiking another shot of pain through her head. "Fuck," she whispered, hand flying to her forehead. "Ow..."
"Take it easy. It will be some time before you fully recover, Oriana."
"And whose fault is that, jackass?" she shot.
"Mine," he said, completely unapologetically.
Oriana opened her eyes again, intending to shoot her most malicious glare ever at Abraham, but a wave of nausea forced her to close them again. "'scuse me, I need to throw up." She felt her way into the en suite bathroom, and reemerged a few minutes later not feeling much better.
He leaned casually against the wall next to the door, observing her. "Better?"
"No, not that you care."
"Of course I care. I do not wish you permanent harm."
"You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe that for a second." She sat down on the edge of the bed, started to relax, and had to reposition herself once she started to slip again.
"I wouldn't expect you to," he said calmly.
She did not bother replying to that, choosing instead to knead her temples in hopes of getting her headache to recede. He would provide aspirin if she asked, but she could not bring herself to do so.
"What the hell am I doing here, anyway?" she asked, but suddenly remembered before she had finished the question. "Wait. You were trying to take the twins." She looked up. "Where are they?"
"Safely within the compound." Abraham shrugged faintly.
Fierce anger flared up in her, and she promptly forgot all about how much she hurt. "Don't give me that. They're not safe with you."
"Of course they are," he said, though his tone grew less casual and more controlled as he spoke. "I can take care of my children."
"They're not yours!"
"They are my flesh and blood."
"Which means nothing," she snapped. "They don't belong to you-or me-in any way that actually matters. The Harpers are their parents. Not you."
"That can be taken care of."
"Are you out of your mind? They hate you! They will never think of you as their father. Never, Abraham. You took them away from people they love, and they're not going to forget that."
"They're still young," he said, waving his hand dismissively.
Oriana nearly growled. Appealing to the humanity she doubted he had proved to be about as easy as talking to a brick wall. "They're not that young, you idiot."
"Young enough. Name calling won't make your point any quicker, Oriana."
"No, but you growing an actual brain might. You don’t know them at all."
Abraham visibly gritted his teeth together. "There is no point in being snide."
"You're right, my mistake. What you really need is to open your goddamn eyes and actually care about someone other than yourself for once in your miserable life!"
He actually jerked slightly before his eyes narrowed and he straightened from the wall, stepping towards her. "You shouldn't speak on things you don't understand."
"I understand that you're a complete psycho! There's no excuse for anything you and your asshole partner have ever done to 'your own flesh and blood,' or to me and my family!"
Now he stepped right up to her, forcing her to look up at him. She wobbled a little bit, but managed to hold her ground, fueled by her fury. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, Oriana."
"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," she retorted.
"I have never laid a hand on my children," he shot back.
"That is such bullshit! Lynne told me what you did to her. Maybe you didn't physically hurt her yourself, but you told Rupert he could, and that's worse. You soulless coward." There was unstable fury in his eyes now as he stared down at her without speaking. Not cowed, she continued, hoping to make every word sting as hard as possible. "And speaking of Rupert, I'd say he’s the one who's in charge of the company if I didn't know better. He walks all over you! Why don't you grow a pair and tell him to knock it off?"
"Shut up," Abraham roared, hands clenched in fists at his side.
"Make me!" she shouted back.
Within a second, he had grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her away from the bed and pinned her against the wall, his arm against her throat. "I said, shut up," he said at a more moderate volume, even if he was still plainly furious.
Oriana could not breathe, but not because of the pressure on her air pipe. "Let go of me," she rasped, wiggling in his grip.
"Or what?" he asked. "What could you possibly do if I don't, hmm?"
She pushed at his arm. "Bastard-"
He slowly increased the pressure on her throat. "Stop," he said flatly.
"Let go!"
"Or what?" he repeated, bringing his face close to hers, intense anger still written all over it.
The action overwhelmed her with flashbacks of the last time he had been that close to her, and she abruptly stopped struggling, gasping for air. A tear slipped down her cheek. "Please."
Almost instantly, he let go and backed away, staring at her with an indecipherable look on his face. She sank gratefully to the floor, shutting her eyes against the sudden burning in her tear ducts.
She did not hear him move for a very long moment until he cleared his throat, almost as though he wanted to say something, but he did not speak. Finally, she heard footsteps followed by the sound of the door opening. After a weighted pause, it shut with only a quiet click.
Story: Shifts universe (Shifts)
Challenge: Orange 16 (play you like a fiddle) [Marina]; French Vanilla 2 (faux pas), Trail Mix 5 (inner space) [Casey]; FOTD (distrain) [both]
Toppings/Extras: Hot Fudge, Sprinkles, Smoothie
Word Count: 1,086
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Abraham and Oriana have words.
Notes: Does what it says on the tin. And then some. Just before the end of Shifts, and Abraham's second character turning point for tonight.
Oriana woke up to a tingly feeling of vague distress-she knew that something was wrong, but could not remember what. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, disorienting her when she tried to sit up. She blindly groped for something with which to support herself. Her hand grasped something solid, and she rubbed at its smooth, notched surface for a moment, trying to figure out what it was.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and frowned in confusion at the carved bedpost she had latched onto, then at the matching end table nearby. "This isn't Isabelle's house," she murmured.
"That would be correct," a familiar voice spoke up.
She jumped and tried to twist to face the speaker, but in her haste she slipped on the sleek bedspread and fell to the floor, landing hard on her rear end and spiking another shot of pain through her head. "Fuck," she whispered, hand flying to her forehead. "Ow..."
"Take it easy. It will be some time before you fully recover, Oriana."
"And whose fault is that, jackass?" she shot.
"Mine," he said, completely unapologetically.
Oriana opened her eyes again, intending to shoot her most malicious glare ever at Abraham, but a wave of nausea forced her to close them again. "'scuse me, I need to throw up." She felt her way into the en suite bathroom, and reemerged a few minutes later not feeling much better.
He leaned casually against the wall next to the door, observing her. "Better?"
"No, not that you care."
"Of course I care. I do not wish you permanent harm."
"You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe that for a second." She sat down on the edge of the bed, started to relax, and had to reposition herself once she started to slip again.
"I wouldn't expect you to," he said calmly.
She did not bother replying to that, choosing instead to knead her temples in hopes of getting her headache to recede. He would provide aspirin if she asked, but she could not bring herself to do so.
"What the hell am I doing here, anyway?" she asked, but suddenly remembered before she had finished the question. "Wait. You were trying to take the twins." She looked up. "Where are they?"
"Safely within the compound." Abraham shrugged faintly.
Fierce anger flared up in her, and she promptly forgot all about how much she hurt. "Don't give me that. They're not safe with you."
"Of course they are," he said, though his tone grew less casual and more controlled as he spoke. "I can take care of my children."
"They're not yours!"
"They are my flesh and blood."
"Which means nothing," she snapped. "They don't belong to you-or me-in any way that actually matters. The Harpers are their parents. Not you."
"That can be taken care of."
"Are you out of your mind? They hate you! They will never think of you as their father. Never, Abraham. You took them away from people they love, and they're not going to forget that."
"They're still young," he said, waving his hand dismissively.
Oriana nearly growled. Appealing to the humanity she doubted he had proved to be about as easy as talking to a brick wall. "They're not that young, you idiot."
"Young enough. Name calling won't make your point any quicker, Oriana."
"No, but you growing an actual brain might. You don’t know them at all."
Abraham visibly gritted his teeth together. "There is no point in being snide."
"You're right, my mistake. What you really need is to open your goddamn eyes and actually care about someone other than yourself for once in your miserable life!"
He actually jerked slightly before his eyes narrowed and he straightened from the wall, stepping towards her. "You shouldn't speak on things you don't understand."
"I understand that you're a complete psycho! There's no excuse for anything you and your asshole partner have ever done to 'your own flesh and blood,' or to me and my family!"
Now he stepped right up to her, forcing her to look up at him. She wobbled a little bit, but managed to hold her ground, fueled by her fury. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, Oriana."
"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," she retorted.
"I have never laid a hand on my children," he shot back.
"That is such bullshit! Lynne told me what you did to her. Maybe you didn't physically hurt her yourself, but you told Rupert he could, and that's worse. You soulless coward." There was unstable fury in his eyes now as he stared down at her without speaking. Not cowed, she continued, hoping to make every word sting as hard as possible. "And speaking of Rupert, I'd say he’s the one who's in charge of the company if I didn't know better. He walks all over you! Why don't you grow a pair and tell him to knock it off?"
"Shut up," Abraham roared, hands clenched in fists at his side.
"Make me!" she shouted back.
Within a second, he had grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her away from the bed and pinned her against the wall, his arm against her throat. "I said, shut up," he said at a more moderate volume, even if he was still plainly furious.
Oriana could not breathe, but not because of the pressure on her air pipe. "Let go of me," she rasped, wiggling in his grip.
"Or what?" he asked. "What could you possibly do if I don't, hmm?"
She pushed at his arm. "Bastard-"
He slowly increased the pressure on her throat. "Stop," he said flatly.
"Let go!"
"Or what?" he repeated, bringing his face close to hers, intense anger still written all over it.
The action overwhelmed her with flashbacks of the last time he had been that close to her, and she abruptly stopped struggling, gasping for air. A tear slipped down her cheek. "Please."
Almost instantly, he let go and backed away, staring at her with an indecipherable look on his face. She sank gratefully to the floor, shutting her eyes against the sudden burning in her tear ducts.
She did not hear him move for a very long moment until he cleared his throat, almost as though he wanted to say something, but he did not speak. Finally, she heard footsteps followed by the sound of the door opening. After a weighted pause, it shut with only a quiet click.