This Skin is Stained

[As Day Fades]

"So what am I working with tonight?"

"Eh, usual shit."

"Fantastic," with a mild smirk and a droll voice to him.

"Hey, hey, could be worse. It's actually pretty light in there tonight, just a whore and a pair of kids whose mommies and daddies aren't bailing 'em out 'til morning."

"So no one violent tonight? That's a nice change."

"Yeah. Anyway, I gotta jet. Thanks again for covering for me."

"Just don't forget those tickets next Saturday."

"You know it."

And like that he was alone, just him and the dregs of society. ...Well, no. That was cruel. It sounded like there were just a few misguided ones in the large, shared cell tonight. Thankfully the real douchebags were somewhere else. Tonight, the rapists and skinheads and pimps and dealers and what have you, they were off doing something else. Officer Daniel Jacobs waved to the other man as he left, a coworker whose second half of the shift he was covering for, something about his little girl had a recital or something real early in the morning. This made his eight hour shift a twelve, and had him spending those extra four watching the lockup. He waved the man off with two fingers of his free hand and a yawn; in the other was a steaming coffee and underneath that arm was a clipboard. Turning, Officer Jacobs started down the hallway to the desk, grabbing the clipboard from underneath that arm to look over the basic information of his company for the next few hours.

As he came to the desk the hallway opened up into a cold, somewhat filthy room. To the left was a desk with a computer and papers everywhere. To the right were bars that could hold a pretty good number of people, a long wooden bench on the wall and an open area to stand, or pace, if that were your preference. Just above the center of that long, a bit warped bench was a small window cracked open for air, with bars paced vertically along the inside. And on the far wall between the desk and the cell were a bunch of posters, things like D.A.R.E., phone numbers for supports groups, clinics, and so on. Some motivational shit too. At the end of the hallway, this room was technically a dead end; though, if you didn't want it to, it didn't have to be.

"Bethany Thomas and Leonard Brugglia," Daniel read off the clipboard as he circled 'round the desk. His voice was half to himself and half not caring if they heard. Hell, if the two teens weren't curled up asleep on a corner of the bench he might've been louder just to scare some additional sense into 'em. It was three in the morning though, and he didn't want to be here any more than they did. Let the stupid bastards sleep. "Seventeen and seventeen. Underage drinking at a party...everyone scattered like roaches when the cops arrived...yadda yadda... Not everyone can be so lucky, huh?" His eyes scanned briefly over the report. It was the same old stuff, really. He wasn't even required to read it. If he was going to be stuck here for however many hours though, it was his preference to at least always have an idea of what he was stuck with. These characters had a tendency to be pretty sketchy, so you often needed to know how to handle someone; if they were just some punk or a real piece'a shit.

The officer leaned back in his chair. He hadn't cast the cell more than a quick glance yet. Rather, he took a long sip from the hot coffee before setting it down, then brought that hand up to flip to the next page in the clipboard. Yawning, covering his mouth with the back of that freed hand, and still speaking mostly to himself, but audible nonetheless, "And here we h-"

A pause.

He blinked. Once, twice, then narrowed his eyes hard at the name on the paper.

The fatigue sobered in an instant. Daniel sat straight up, then leaned forward, one arm on the desk, eyes peering through the bars. Through the bars and to the woman he knew quite well. Only, not like this.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

Danica Maltiere knew it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was in jail for the first time in her life. Sure, she'd been arrested before as a teenager, but she'd always been brought home with the threat that if she fucked up again she was toast. Well, here she was! But did she honestly care? Probably not. She'd been working the street for the past couple months, trying to find any way to deal with the horrible pain in her chest, but nothing ever worked for long. The guy had been a real charmer, too. All submissive and shit, doing it like she wanted and how she needed. Those were the guys that found her: the submissives who needed to be told what to do and how to do it. The ones who needed to give up their control. She'd been given the street name of "Whip" for what she did, and she had been doing pretty damn well for herself. She scored at least three "clients" a day and made some pretty heavy cash. Too bad that fucker had gotten them caught by being too goddamn loud. Now she was here, in this cell that smelled like piss and nightmares. And she didn't even have her pills anymore to get high and fade out for a bit. Bummer. At least she still had her cigarettes.

She sat on the little bench inside the cell, still looking pretty damn gorgeous despite the rough treatment and smeared make up. Her hair, brilliant red and natural, wasn't so stylish now, but wasn't so horribly mussed. But her skin was. She had bruises around her wrists that covered over old and new cuts, bruises on her legs, too. She had tattoos on her hips of tribal butterflies, tattoos on her back that weren't visible even with the barely-there-top she had on. Of course, no tattoo artist wanted to go near the marks around her neck from when she'd attempted suicide and someone had stupidly saved her ass and put her into rehab. Not like it had worked. She'd just pretended it had. Her corset skirt wasn't too short, but it did show a lot of skin, while her top dipped low and plumped up her ample cleavage. Black on porcelain skin brought out the brightness of her amethyst eyes that took in the surroundings of her cell with a deadpan look. Did it matter where she was? Hardly. But some little part of her conscience said, "you used to be a good woman. Look what you've done."

She could hear the guards down the hall way talking to each other about god knows what, and so she lit up while they were distracted. Her cigarettes weren't laced, but she wished sometimes that she could take that extra step and just put some H in them. But she liked to control her highs. That control was what she liked. She couldn't give it back to anyone. Not since him. Maybe not ever. Maybe that was why she was so fucked up now. Who knew? Taking a heavy drag, she leaned back against the wall and stretched out, popping some vertebrae as she did. It was gonna be a long night. Good thing she had already taken off her knee-high boots with their four inch heels. At least she didn't have to worry about getting underwear up her ass. It wasn't like she was wearing any. She smirked at her mindset before taking a nice long drag, letting the toxic smoke full up her already abused lungs. The heat and smoke felt and tasted delicious, despite the havoc it was wreaking on her system. She wasn't a heavy smoker by any means, but she did enjoy her cigs. Besides, it was keeping her warm. This place was cold enough to freeze her tits off.

Her kohl rimmed eyes looked away from the filthy ceiling to the officer randomly speaking to himself. They liked to do that, though the people he was referring to were passed out cold from their night of binging. She'd love to be in their shoes and just black out for a little bit. But, nope, she didn't have her pills. She barely spared the cop a glance as she shut her eyes and kept on smoking, thankful she had just bought the pack she'd stuffed into her cleavage. They also had her phone, so she couldn't see who might have called her since she got picked up. She hadn't made much of a scene, but it wasn't like she'd been all that quiet either. Still, she was in here and she just had to fucking deal with it. Soon, the back of her lids weren't all that appealing and so she checked out her recently painted fingernails. They were bright blue and shimmery, making her think of brilliant ocean water. She studied them all for cracks and chips and was thankful that there were none. She'd hate to have to get them painted. Again. It was then that she heard the cop stutter in his speech and make a sound like he was leaning and so she turned her head and found herself staring at a friend of hers and she found herself cursing loudly before she felt herself putting her head in her hands.

"Son of a bitch! Not you."

 

[As Day Fades]

"Son of a bitch," Daniel repeated, his voice monotone, if a bit heavy. "Not you? ...The fuck?"

He didn't know whether to stare daggers at her or just shake his head in confusion. The latter seemed more appropriate. Also, he was half standing, still leaning over his desk. When had that happened? Daniel sat back down, eyes locked on her. On the face of his friend. On her whorish attire. That top...that skirt...the way she was done up, it was enough to make a man sin. But all that was lost on him right now. In an instant she'd stopped being some whore in late-night lockup. She was a friend, and as he sat back into his chair, Daniel's soft brown eyes did their best to look into hers, or her face, or any part of her he might recognize, as his chin just shook in a slow confusion.

What in the world.

...Since when?

And yet here she was, all decked out before him, like a slutty princess ready to go to her skanky ball. Cigarette and everything. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find any words. He tried a second time, eyes narrowed, peering to what of her face he could see while she kept it lowered, and still he found nothing. It was a stark eventuality that his thoughts drifted to Danica's late fiance, a man he'd met her through, and one of his better friends. It'd been eight months since the accident... Driving down in deer country, he'd had to swerve to avoid hitting a moose. They were getting a start on the long drive back home after a long night of partying, and he'd been the only sober one of the three; the other two were in the back seat, too trashed to even be wearing seatbelts. It was early. So early. Or late. About forty minutes before dawn, still a bit foggy out. He'd had to swerve at the last second, then ended up rolling and smacking into a tree. It was a mess. A really bad mess... Worse still, the first ambulance that came was a small one. He'd been fine. Scraped up, yeah, but he walked away from it. The other two...there was only enough room in that initial ambulance for one. The next one was still a few minutes out, and he knew if he let them take Rafe away before his fiance, his buddy would never forgive him. It was a weird few minutes. Awkward. Surreal. So much blood... Who was in worse condition? If he'd forced his friend to go in that first one would he have lived? Would his girl had lasted until the second one got her to the hospital? How much was he to blame for it all? Completely? Nothing at all? Somewhere inbetween?

Like a fucking plague, it'd haunted his mind for the first couple months following the funeral. Should he have done more to console the girl? Maybe. But avoiding her had been a large part of not letting this thing slowly eat away at him. He'd blissfully ignored the fact that she must have been going through some shit too. And here she was, a right mess. Fallen from grace, he didn't even recognize her anymore. Daniel wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. Of all the shifts... His palm found his mouth. His eyes peered down at the clipboard, reading it off in his mind. Picked up for prostitution. First time offense. She'd been mouthy to the arresting officers - yeah, that was Danica alright - but hadn't put up any significant resistance. Had an unusual amount of prescription pills in her purse, and hadn't been able to accurately name what half of them were for. He stopped reading the report and pulled open the top drawer of the desk. There were a few clear, heavy Ziploc bags inside, with one of them containing all her pill bottles - evidence. Daniel sighed. He took his hat off, set it on the desk, then just ran a palm through his short, dirty blonde hair and he sighed. The fuck had happened to her these past months?

His gaze lifted back up and with it his hand fell to cover his mouth again, eyes still wide with disbelief. Or, a lack of desire to believe, if that were much different. "I...don't think we're going to avoid this conversation," he began, his voice now loud enough for them both. "I think you should be the one to start. ...We've got all morning."

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"Fuck you."

She said. Clearly, she was willing to avoid this conversation. It didn't matter that she would be in here for another, oh, ten hours or whatever. Eventually she would crash into sleep or just not sleep at all. Regardless of what came first, she didn't care. She didn't need to talk to fill the silence. She wasn't that kind of woman. Didn't matter that she was only a few months shy of being completely legal and in a holding cell for the night. They had told her she'd be let out in the morning and that if they caught her again, she could be charged. But she wouldn't allow herself to be caught. She'd been hooking for about four months without them catching her. It wasn't a stretch that she could avoid them more easily. However, now she figured she couldn't as she stared at Daniel with a spark of misery and hatred through her fingers. She finished the last of the cigarette and put it out on the bench before tossing it into a little pile of ashes in the corner. It was so not comforting that she might get Hep C just from sitting on the goddamn bench. Wonderful place, these holding cells. And the company wasn't much better.

The look of shock and dismay on his face actually disgusted her on some level. What? Did he not expect her to fall so low? Did it even matter? His opinion wasn't worth shit and neither was he. As she stared at him, she thought he should have lost his badge after what happened. She still had the scars on her back from being thrown through the back passenger window. She'd suffered internal bleeding, an almost severed spine, and several other little things, but it hadn't been as bad as what had happened to Rafe. Not even close and still....she'd been put in the ambulance first. She couldn't let go of that. If he had been put in first, he would still be here. If he had gotten attention first, he'd have been okay and then...and then...

"Figures I get landed with you of all people. Life's a bitch, too bad I ain't dead yet."

Sitting back against the wall, Danica stared at him as if she could make him disappear. She'd rather be with lepers than with him right now. Did she blame him for what happened? Some of her did. Most of it was that nothing truly could have saved her beloved besides there not being an accident at all. She combed her fingers through her hair and adjusted her skirt down a little to hide her unmentionables. She may be a hooker, but it didn't mean she wanted everyone to know she wasn't wearing underwear. She wasn't easy despite her profession. Her family didn't know she was hooking and that's the way she liked it. They knew she was hooked on her pills but they couldn't help her. She didn't hide from them, but she wasn't all that connected anymore. Everything had changed and so had she. Her body just refused to die so she was living a life that would kill her. No matter how many people told her her lover would hate to see her like this, it didn't matter. He couldn't see her at all.

Wasn't that a bitch?

 

[As Day Fades]

A long silence fell between them. He...wasn't quite sure how to handle this. This...this had been the main reason this hadn't happened for so long, and had God been willing, this meeting wouldn't have ever happened again at all. This fear had persisted all these months since the funeral, this fear that she held him accountable for what had happened. Had he imagined it that day, seeing her face? He liked to think it, but the truth was a bitch, and he could never shake the thought for very long. This was why he hadn't sought her out in all this time. This was why he'd done his damndest to avoid her. This feeling, this fucking moment. This right here. The bottle had been so much easier to talk to. Maybe it was time he had another relapse.

Yeah, he had his demons too.

"Alright," he spoke softly following the lengthy pause, "I guess you don't want to gently tiptoe around this, do you? Alright. I can drop the concerned friend tone." Looking down, then looking away, Daniel brought the coffee to his lips for a moment. Then he leaned ran a hand through his shortish dirty blonde hair again before sitting back in the chair, reclining with a slight squeak. "I can talk to you like a jackass if you want. Or what about a father figure kinda approach? Or my favorite, the scared straight routine. That's the one where I fill you with facts until you don't fucking do this shit anymore."

This was the way he'd probably speak to those two knucklehead kids before they were released in the morning. He'd rather take a softer, more tender tone with Danica; if she cared to really pay attention maybe she'd see that. But if this was how it was gonna be, that worked too. He was used to getting firm like this. Right now, to him, she was just another whore. "What is today, Sunday? Yeah. You know, we don't really have days of the week here like everyone else does. We have days, yeah, but it's pretty fucking dismal with the kinda shit we deal with in this job, you know? We don't have seven different days here, we really only have two: we have days some poor hooker is found killed and ditched somewhere, and then we have what we call 'good days.'"

But god damn, he wouldn't be a man if he didn't admit, at least to himself, what a hot piece she was just sitting over there. She'd always been beautiful though. The smoking was classless, but right now so was the rest of her. ...Did the skankiness make her more or less hot?

Daniel just shook his head. "I thought you were smarter than this. Hell, I thought you were smart in general. Definitely smarter than this." His eyes went to the Ziploc bag in front of him. He turned a few of the bottles within the plastic, reading off the labels. "Whew~," a single, drawn out whistle, "some of these aren't much, but you've got a few serious ones mixed in here too. You know, a little more than two weeks ago I was the first officer on the scene of some young girl that OD'd at her parents' house, and she didn't even have quite this much. ...I bet you can handle more than her, though. Now here's a question: Do you think that's something to be proud of or to be ashamed of?"

Then another question popped into his head. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her; and hate him if you would, but right now he was in a mode. Right now, he was working. "Danica. I can see your bruises from here. ...Who's hurting you?"

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"Please, try to talk tough. I've been such a bad girl, tell me all I've done wrong and I'll change!"

She said in a clearly mocking tone, putting her hands together like she was going to pray for forgiveness. She gave him a flat look as she dropped her hands, adjusted herself on the bench as it squeaked. She wasn't buying that he was even trying to be friendly. More like trying to figure out how to approach her. She wasn't some fucking pony that needed to be calmed and fed. She was person, damnit, even if she didn't care about much these days. As he spoke, she tuned him out somewhat, knowing what he was gonna say. It was all the same. People died, people got ill, people got out and some never did. She didn't care about that shit. But the more and more he talked to her like she was stupid, the more her temper rose. She'd always had a temper, even when faced with an endless sea of pain and heartbreak, she'd still be able to be mad at someone, even if that someone had been herself.

"Enough with the pep talk, coach, you're killing me. Do you think this has anything to do with being smart? With thinking? I can tell you drink more than you should, but I ain't saying you should just up and quit. What the fuck ever. Being able to feel something other than misery and numbness, or anger and agony, is the reason, if you have to know."

She reached into her top to take out a cigarette and lighter and lit up again, already annoyed with the conversation. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or proud of. It was what it was. She had tried healthier methods. She'd tried running. She'd tried swimming. She'd tried self-defense classes. Those had helped, but not enough. When she'd tried killing herself, that had been a rush, a glorious way to go. But she'd been stopped so she had wanted to find another way to get that rush without feeling someone's hands on her throat. So she'd started with pills and man those had kicked her into that sweet, sweet high. It had started with a single tab of X, but it hadn't stopped there. Oh no, it hadn't stopped there..

"You think I give a shit what happened to a two-bit fuck up ODer? I've seen worse. Hell, I watched someone OD before and no one called the ambulance but me because the stupid punk was too young to die. But I've seen worse than that. So don't tell me it's a damn crying shame."

She took a drag and let the smoke out slowly, feeling her body start to shake with some of her angst. She didn't want to be a loose cannon around him, so she smoked in silence for a few good minutes. Once the cigarette was gone, she fingered the ring she still kept on her finger, concealing it as best she could from his eyes. The sapphire winked at her in the light and she found her sense of calm even as her mind said, "take another hit."

"If you think I have some pimp or whatever, I don't. I've gotten into fights with stupid bitches and drunken assholes wanting a free ride. So these bruises are from some people who got too friendly. But they have it worse."

She grinned at him before looking back down at her hand, feeling the memories start to well up as she played with the ring. Rafe would hate her...Rafe would totally hate her...but he was dead. So even if he could muster up hate, she had nothing left.

 

[As Day Fades]

Nor did he have much left either.

"Marie left me," he just blurted out. Fine, she didn't want a pep talk. Maybe it'd be better if he depreciated himself some for her too. She was vulnerable right now, and naturally defensive because of it. "She's been...it's been about five months now, I guess."

Another pause between them. This one had an uncomfortable air to it; not that any of these pauses didn't. "After it happened...after it happened I was pretty distraught for awhile. I had a feeling I knew how you felt. I hated myself too." A sigh. "I get off shift about the same time you're set to be turned loose. If you feel like you wanna take a few swings at me then, then...I won't stop you."

He didn't smoke. He hated smoking, but something about the smell of that cigarette wafting over from the cell held a certain appeal right about now. Daniel just sighed, fingers moving idly up and down the side of his coffee cup as he stared into the warm drink. "If you need it, I think you deserve that much. Anyway. After it happened I got really bad into drinking for awhile. Marie was there for me, but I guess she got tired of doting on me, or trying to help me out of it, or what. I don't really know. Maybe I was just so concerned with myself that I wasn't giving her the attention she deserved. Someone else was, though. About three months into it she left."

Fuck. Why was he telling her this? It wasn't like him being pathetic was going to make this any easier between them, somehow. In hindsight, maybe that hadn't been the best turn of conversation. Sighing, shaking his head, Daniel stood, slowly circling around the desk. He came up to the bars and leaned against them. His body dipped close. His forehead pressed between two of the cold iron lengths. And for a moment he stared at Danica, looking her over again before speaking, eyeing her up and down, "So whoever did this to you...they've got it worse, huh?" He smirked. "Of course. You've never been anything less than a fighter. But," concern overtaking, "how lucky can one person be? Get in enough fights and you're bound to lose eventually. I've seen pimps sitting where you are right now because they beat their hos so bad the girls died of internal bleeding. I've seen girls die of stab wounds, gunshot wounds, you name it. Some of them had pimps. Some were on their own. They just had an unlucky night. ...A month ago, I heard over the scanner some prostitute was found with her skull beaten in by a baseball bat. Not a big one, it was one of those little one-handed ones. Some officers found the guy six blocks away butt-ass naked in the park and all hopped up on meth."

Turning, he went back over to the desk and picked up his cup. "But you're tougher than all that, right? Tougher than knives, and tougher than drugged up fuckheads who don't know how to restrain themselves. ...You're an adult, you make your own decisions now, yeah, smart ones, dumb ones, but just remember, this is the kinda thing where you've only gotta have one really bad night."

Another drink, this one longer, finishing off the cup. "I'm getting some more coffee. Do you want some?"

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"Marie is still alive, right?"

She said, her voice carrying a harsh tone. She didn't care and yet she did that he was left by his girlfriend. She had liked Marie, thought she had a good head on her shoulders and a good person to lean on. But if this whole, "I'll spill my guts if you do," routine wasn't working for her. She didn't talk to anyone about her demons, about how she'd tried to kill herself a few times before her body told her it wasn't gonna happen. All the pills and drinking, though, that might kill her. But hey, if it was an accident, she might go somewhere pretty when she died, right? It didn't matter because she probably wouldn't see Rafe in another life anyways. He'd probably moved on. That thought churned her insides and she took a breath to calm herself. As much as she had hated those white walls in the rehab facility, the calming techniques had made it easier to not OD. Even if she wanted to, she wanted to go out in her own way; not because she'd taken one too many pills.

"Woe is me,"

She mocked, clearly not giving a damn about his pain. He got dumped because of his own stupidity while her lover, her fiance, had been taken from her over the course of weeks. She'd recovered while he'd been in a coma before one night, he'd just died while she had been holding his hand. It made her feel like she hadn't been a good enough reason for him to fight to live. She had been left with memories and his things at her place. She hadn't even known she was pregnant until the miscarriage the doctors had caused trying to stitch up her body. He had no idea what she had suffered and what she suffered still. Why was she letting her mind get that far in? She needed her pills and felt the shakes in her hands start up. She clenched them tight and tried her calming technique again. It wasn't really working. It never really worked for long.

"You've seen the aftermath of horrible stuff. You haven't been in the thick of it like a bar fight that gets so out of hand someone gets shot in the head next to you. Please, spare me the details, I'm not the same woman you met two years ago nor the same woman you knew eight months ago."

She lit up another cigarette, unable to stop the smoking as long as she didn't have her pills and had to keep talking to him. She really didn't want to do either, but the smoking calmed her down further even though she knew it was only a temporary fix. It was always a temporary fix, but she still needed it to get by. She didn't have anything to really help her get by anymore. She'd been adopted as a baby, so her family wasn't really her own, but it hadn't mattered much. They were still family, but it meant something now. She was in a sea of strangers without her anchor to hold her sane. She took a drag and let it out slowly, feeling her mind reeling from wanting some real peace. Some of her pills were to help her sleep, some were not. She hadn't had a good night sleep since Rafe graced her bed. And now, she didn't think she ever would. Her mind would never stop playing all those godforsaken memories.

"I don't drink coffee. Never have."

She murmured, putting out her third cigarette even though she still had half of it left. She wasn't going to ask him for anything, even if she desperately wanted some water or tea. She wrapped her arms about her legs and rested her chin on her knees, looking at the wall. It was grimy and covered with writing, but it was better than looking at a grim reminder of her past.

 

[As Day Fades]

It shouldn't have bothered him. He was over Marie now, yeah? Well, over enough. Damn if this girl wasn't callous about it, though. But they were all like that. Defensive. Backed into a corner, fur raised, teeth bared. Some people that came in were instantly terrified and sobered up by their surroundings, but some, yeah, if you let their mouths get to you you weren't gonna make it in lockup. ...Though, this twat's barbs were a bit more personal to just stomach than most.

Whatever.

Milk and sugar. A minute later he was back, booted feet clicking heavy on the linoleum floor, coffee in hand.

"It's not much, but there's a break room about two halls down. It's got some machines, got a microwave...if you want a sandwich or something, or a drink, y'know, it's not like I mind." It was just for the sake of pleasantries at this point. Daniel wasn't a dense man; if she would take anything from him, if she would take anything from him, it would probably be just to spit in it and hand it back.

"Y'know, we used to talk all the time about how pretty you were, me 'n Rafe. Well, are, I mean. Though now you're more of a hot mess than the kinda gal you'd bring home." Time for a different approach. "Every guy thinks that about his girl, but man, he would get so jealous over all the stares. And he couldn't take you anywhere without someone eyeing you up." Daniel took a sip of his coffee. Still a bit hot, he set it down on the desk and walked to the cell, a smug look painting his features when he approached the bars. "I couldn't help but wonder on my way to getting my drink, what's a girl like you go for? How much does it cost to untie that lovely little red box, hm?" A smirk. A smug fucking smirk. Coming to lean forward, forearms on the bars, Daniel's eyes searched her over. Sexy legs. Nice flat tummy. Her tits though were where his gaze seemed locked - and not an inch higher. He remembered Danica having a nice ass too, and instantly found himself wondering what it looked like in that little corset skirt. "Or any of your holes, really. How much would it set a guy back? Or a girl back," a pause, and a smirk. "You're probably not that picky anymore. So, what would it cost? Sixty bucks and I pin your back to these bars and we go to town, yeah? Or maybe twenty and you kneel down here 'n give me a handy? ...Or how 'bout that same thirty, and I go sit in my chair and you sit in my lap, and I play with your butt for awhile while we talk? That's what you're all about now, right? You want me to help you 'fill' that 'void,' baby?"

He snickered. "I kept wondering that while I was walking. On the way back I wondered too. I wondered if you've always been this way, or what. Maybe you were a little hoochie behind Rafe's back. Hell, it's not like I kept tabs on you. Most girls though, most girls that come in here like this, they always wanted to be...always wanted to be objectified as some secret fantasy, wanted to be that important that people would pay just to spend time with them. And then the fantasy fades and grim reality sets in, and here they are. Well, here or the morgue. ...But we don't care about that, right? Shit, no. We're a tough girl. And when we hurt, nobody understands our pain. And there's no hope for smiling again, not a real one. It's just a matter of getting through your days now until you burn the fuck out, right?"

It didn't show, but every verbal lash he swung at her caused a sharp inward wince. Daniel couldn't help but look at her and feel...responsibility? That felt accurate. If only he hadn't done this. If only he'd been stronger about that. This situation had really come out of left field, and he didn't know what to think. The only thing he felt for sure was that he owed it to his buddy to fix this, somehow. Somehow. Even if that meant being a complete dick.

'Tough love,' a daddy would call it, chastising his bratty baby girl.

"I mean. You don't care, right? I'm probably not insulting you or anything. You're probably used to it by now I'd think. Whores get asked to do shit all the time, and some of it pretty damn humiliating. ...Hey, wanna play to one of my fantasies, whore? Get down on your knees and bark for me. Go on. Like a bitch. I'll trade you some of those pills."

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

At first, she was handling what he was saying until he brought Rafe into the picture. She had never seen herself as some gorgeous girl, but she'd felt beautiful every day she spent with Rafe. And then he ruined it by bringing up the questions all the guys ask: how much. She wasn't cheap. She wasn't a girl that you could spend less than a hundred bucks for. It wasn't how she worked. She was specific in her clientele. They came to her for whatever reason and she did was she was supposed to: dominate them for a few hours if it lasted that long. But just listening to him talk when he'd never been so harsh to her just made her want to put tar in her ears so she didn't have to listen to him. She retreated into herself a bit, moving her hands a little to cover her ears. She didn't care if he saw, she just wanted him to shut up. And then she snapped.

"I never cheated on Rafe, you fucking cocksucking bastard! How dare you try to turn me into a slut just because you can't handle what you're seeing. You fucking asshole! You think I'm like all those other chicks who turn tricks?! Then get on your knees and call me Mistress, baby."

She hadn't realized she was already standing at the bars with her hands clenched until she was staring right at him. She was so mad the edges of her vision were black and as she stared into his eyes, she couldn't handle seeing herself in them and backed up a little. She felt the shakes set in as she took a breath. This was not good. She couldn't have a panic attack right now from this. She turned her back to him and counted in her head, wrapped her arms about her and just counted, murmuring a song softly. She wanted that rush, and was tempted to take his offer, but she could wait. She had to. She had to prove a fucking point that she wouldn't crack that hard because of his stupid fucking taunts. Once she had found some semblance of a center, she turned back to him and got right up in his face, glaring at him as if she could kill him.

"I get paid a hundred bucks an hour and it's on my terms and no one else's. So what do you say to that, Officer? Am I still low enough to consider laying? Cause no matter what you paid me, I still wouldn't destroy what memories you have with Rafe. Or with Marie. Now, fuck off before I rip your balls out through your goddamn throat!"

She almost spit at him, but instead she moved out of his reach just in case he tried to grab her and sat back down on her bench, not wanting anything to do with him no matter how hurt inside she was. She wanted someone familiar, but she didn't want anyone at all. He really didn't know how fucked up she was now. He had no freakin' clue.

 

[As Day Fades]

"Woo," a drawn out whistle, adorned with a snicker. "Dirty mouth on this girl! ...Well, you did just come from work."

Her words though did bring a few things to mind, all of them a bit different, yet equally muddling. "'Miss Danica,' huh? Has that always been the case?" The knee-jerk reaction was to start with the obvious while his mind processed the rest. Initial reactions being what they are, Daniel went for the low, easy blows. And speaking of low, easy blows, "Now if we're gonna be so candid let's get one thing straight; you're the cocksucker here, not I. Cocksucker by trade, madam." Zing. "Do you think they have a cocksucker union? Gagging on a nice thick dick, constantly having to get your hair redone, getting your stomach pumped after you blow half the team at a victory party... There's enough occupational hazards to warrant something like that, I'd think? But you're the expert." He was pleased with himself. Smug expression affixed on his features, the officer leaned forward against the bars, taunting her like one might a lioness at a zoo. Or maybe just a declawed house cat with an excess of spunk. ...Zing again.

"Sad thing is, they don't. There's nothing like that. There's watching out for your own back, or there's dealing with pimps, and dealing with those scumbags is a whole new can of fucking issues." Daniel's body language remained the same but his tone and face both quickly softened. The barbs disappeared. He sighed, shook his head a little and continued, "Some of those guys don't like taking no for an answer. If you can't name the guy you're working under, and you won't agree to work for them, I've seen girls come in that would love to have the bruises you've got. It gets rough out there, hon. If these are the worst you've had, you've been lucky. ...But you don't want to hear me I know, I know. You're big and tough. You can handle what comes your way, right? Much as you hate me though, just keep one word in mind: once." His body eased up against the bars. "You've only gotta luck upon a real bad situation one time."

But she was having no part of hearing that point, huh? He'd said it already. Brick fucking wall. Daniel shook his head and turned. Leaning over slightly to grab his coffee, he took a long drink while he eyed the Ziploc bag of her pill bottles sitting at the front of that open drawer.

"...Hundred bucks an hour, huh? Ma'am." He smirked. Another sip. "I'm a little short on that now. But," another drink, then he set the cup down and turned back to the cell, "I've got some sitting at home." The police officer's heavy, black booted steps took him to those cold vertical lengths again, and before even the first footfall came his eyes were back on her chest, optically appreciating how much support and cleavage one top could provide. This was...shades of gray, what he was considering. Gray at best. It would certainly be unorthodox, and as a man, honestly, as a man he wasn't sure where the desire to right this situation with her ended and the newfound flood of lust began, but he had to try. "What do you say we go to my place after we get outta here in a bit?" Someplace they could 'talk' without having to worry. Shit was getting way too brazen here as it was. "I'm sure I can find something for you to do for two or three hours. If you'd be interested."

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"As if these have been the worst I've had..."

She sneered at him. She was tired of his taunting, tired of his barbs, and just plain tired. She held her head in her hands while he talked and just let it roll over her. She didn't want to deal with this. She just wanted to be high and be able to just laugh at him. But she couldn't get high and she just had to deal with it. As he took sips from his drink, she found herself rubbing her temples. Shit, she wasn't feeling well. She barely ate, she didn't sleep unless medicated, and she had the shakes. Lovely. She wasn't in withdrawal already, but her body was just a mess and it was her own damn fault. She wasn't gonna ask for something to eat even if she should, and she wasn't gonna ask for something to drink even if she should. She didn't want to rely on him at all- even for the basics. But she had got what she wanted right? He wasn't treating her like a friend. He was treating her like a hooker. Some part of her always hated what she did so it fueled the self-medicating, and then she felt like shit again so it fueled the sex, and then she medicated all over again in an endless cycle. Probably because she felt guilty as all hell that she had lived while Rafe had died. She needed to stop thinking about this.

"Just shut up..."

She whispered, not necessarily to him but more to herself. Maybe she was talking to him, maybe she wasn't. She wasn't sure at that point. She clutched at her head, curling up into herself as she shut her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She wasn't going to cry. Tears stung the corners of her eyes but she never let them fall as memories played. She remembered the three of them at a bar and doing karaoke before doing shots to make it easier. She remembered when Daniel and Rafe had sang, "Like a Virgin" just to get on her nerves. She'd almost thrown her beer at them. Danica took a few deep breaths and looked up at the ceiling, moving her hands over her face, smearing her make up further. Soon, she was rubbing it off until her face was clean and her hands were black. And they felt clammy. Shit. She shut her eyes and felt the dizziness settle in. Great, when was the last time she had eaten anything? Yesterday? Two days ago? She didn't want to but passing out in this cell was not in the cards. She took another breath, swallowed her pride and looked over at Daniel before looking back at her hands.

"Would you...." A pause. "Would you be able to get me something to eat and drink? ...Please?"

Her voice was soft and weak as she rubbed her hands on her skirt and just kept rubbing, trying to keep her hands dry as they shook. It wasn't really working and she knew she was paler, but she refused to show any weakness - that is, until she had to get up to get what she wanted to eat. She put her head back in her palm as she spoke again.

"Just something to eat...and please....no more jokes..."

 

[As Day Fades]

"Yeah." His voice fell soft, as did his face. He wasn't a bully. He wanted to help her. Tough love. On a slow week he'd get a dozen people like her: fiery and defensive on the outside, all alone on the in. He wasn't just some bully, though. "Yeah, I'll get you something."

His back straightened. Rising from his lean against the bars, "I'll be back in a minute," voice still soft, Daniel turned, disappearing at a calm pace around the bend of the hallway. He wasn't sure where this was going, really. As he walked he gave freely to thought. She was a mess. She hated him, she blamed him, and whenever he got caught up thinking about it, he couldn't deny her a justification in that. The pit of his stomach tightened at the thought. Rafe's family didn't hold a thing against him. They all understood; it was just him and the girl that couldn't get over the haunting 'what if' of it all. Turning down a hallway, he continued thinking. Where was he going with this? Berating her one minute, then trying to hire her the next? Did she want to be a whore so bad he was willing to treat her like one? ...Daniel wanted to think he had better morals than that when the chips were down. She was a hot mess, yeah, and of course there was a degree of lust when he looked at her, the same as there had been long before all this. You could be attracted to your buddy's girl when you all hung out, you just knew enough to man up and keep to yourself about it. This was like that, kinda. And in that sense it wasn't like that at all; it wasn't like he was lusting over her, he knew this was all for her own good. If he could just get her somewhere more personal... Somewhere less like a police station.

The break room was simply that, nothing fancy about it, nor was there a need to be. Vending machines on the left. Fridge in the back. Microwave, sink, and an older, mid-sized, fat TV set all in their spots, with small circular tables and chairs dotting the middle of the room. It was seven minutes all in all when he returned to the cell with a paper plate in hand, two rib sandwiches from one of the machines having been heated in the microwave, lemon tea in his other hand. Daniel cast a glance to the cell when he reemerged from around the hall. "Back," he stated plainly, setting the styrofoam cup and paper plate on the desk. Then his keys jingled. Glancing first back down the hallway to make sure no one was coming, Daniel approached the cell, unlocked it, and let the heavy door swing partially open. "Sorry for the wait. The chef doesn't usually take orders at this hour." He turned away and went back to the desk. He wouldn't have trusted anyone else like this, back turned, cell door popped open, but this was Danica. How many good memories had the four of them made together? Great memories. His body hesitated as he leaned over the desk, thinking. He didn't want to distrust her like the rest of the scum that came in here. Not like that. His face was soft, "But he owed me a favor, so I had him cook you something up." He was gonna fix all this.

He also hesitated in that lean as he looked to the Ziploc of confiscated goods. He wanted to flush every last fucking one down the toilet. But, for now, he opened the bag, opened a few bottles, and added a couple of the lesser evils to her plate, one for a headache and one to help her sleep. Turning, "Filet mignon for the lady," walking inside with the food, "and a glass of our best pinot noir." He set them on the bench beside her. "Decaf, of course." He smiled a little as he set them down, amused with himself. That expression faded though as he lingered for a second or two. Bending over beside her, Daniel's voice fell soft, "You have a right to hate me. And I'm...sorry, for being cruel just now." He thought to touch her, maybe stroke some of her hair back or just some sort of physical contact. His left hand even raised halfway to do so, but it found pause, the back of his uniform turning to her instead. "Sometimes the most blunt, hurtful things can be the most important to hear."

There was the olive branch, for whatever it was worth. Thinking, he walked out of the cell without closing it. He circled around the L-shaped wooden fixture and opened up a side drawer, one much larger than the others. Usually playing cards or semi-recent magazines were kept for whoever was on duty. For those lucky nights when lockup was actually empty, there was a simple, sterile white pillow without a case and a thin yellow cotton blanket. Daniel carried both of these things into the cell and set them beside her, beside the food on the bench. "I was serious about that last thing, by the way." The words were just as soft, somber, as the rest. He avoided the awkwardness of eye contact. "Back at my place, I mean. Once we're out of here." And there he was, blood rushing to his face.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

When he left, she found herself really start to shake and not from the lack of food. She was just at a breaking point at the moment and trying desperately not to cross a line. She sucked in a breath and just held it before letting it out slowly. They said you couldn't get dizzy when you were sitting down, but if you hadn't ate, barely slept, and were pumped full of adrenaline, you found a way to do so. Sitting there on the bench, she listened to the clock tick down the time until Daniel came back. Her mind raced with questions and scenarios and problems like it usually did. It was more chaotic now then it had been, but her thoughts eventually arranged themselves. It made her eyes hurt to think about all this crap. Probably why she popped pills. Drinking was fun and everything, but it cost a lot more and she could drink more guys under the table despite her lighter weight. Besides, it was never fun to drink alone.

She didn't know how much time had passed when Daniel returned, but she knew it hadn't been much. She could smell the food and whatever he had brought for her to drink and she felt her thin shoulders sag a little with relief. At least it was something she could eat. She just hoped she could stomach it for longer than five minutes. She'd have to eat really slow. Rubbing her stomach, she watched him unlock the cell and the door swing open. She didn't even think about bothering to leave. Being dizzy and not friggin' stupid made it so she didn't even consider trying to dart out. She wouldn't have gotten far anyways. She listened to him talk and just waited, knowing he was eventually going to give her the food. However, she heard him open the baggies and pop open pill bottles and she sat up a little straighter, despite the swim her vision did. He was giving her pills? She doubted he would give her anything hardcore. Probably something to help her sleep. Still...it was a nice gesture...

Danica watched him walk in and she realized she had forgotten how tall he was and big. He wasn't too big, but he was a lot of man to handle. She found herself leaning back to actually be able to look him in the face as he put her food down and leaned in close. She didn't want to smile at some of the things he said, but she did, even if it was just the slightest twitch of her lips. But she looked away from him when he started speaking about being cruel. She'd heard all that crap before. About being sorry for being cruel. She'd heard more horrible insults before, but it was different when it came from someone you actually had history with. She frowned a little, bit her bottom lip and then turned away from him slightly as he walked about of the cell. She was tired of the hurtful things. She wanted someone to say something nice for once and actually mean it. She heard a drawer open as she took a sip of the lemon tea and actually sighed a little. She had been afraid it would hit her stomach too hard, but it soothed it just right. Hesitantly, she grabbed a sandwich and took a bite, careful to keep it small. It wasn't too bad.

She looked up at him again, eyes looking more like her own: a dash of curiosity and that old innocence that showed some of her age as he carried in the blanket. She'd always been a fan of the color yellow if it was light enough. And sometimes the really neon yellow because it glowed in the dark. However, it was his words that really had her attention. Her eyes went glassy and distant, watching the blush hit his face. Had those words made her sad? Some little part of her felt...disappointed.

"If you're willing to pay, I can't really say no, right?"

She whispered, taking another sip of the tea. Her voice was hollow. She could say no. She had every right to say no. It was her body, no matter who was willing to pay. But still...she had expected something more for just a brief moment. That he really wasn't going to sink that low. Some stupid little bit of hope welled up and piped up with "maybe he just means a safe place to stay." Eating more of her sandwich slowly, she contemplated the offer. It just made her feel sad on the inside. And hateful towards herself that her body wanted that thrill. She had tried so many things to deal with the guilt- healthy things at that, but nothing had ever truly worked for long. One day she'd stop hating herself so much and maybe truly let go, but she wasn't at the point and right here, right now, she really didn't see herself living long enough to get to that point.

"Sure...I guess..."

She answered and felt her stomach churn unhappily.

 

[As Day Fades]

She could've said no. He expected her to. After all, who got berated and spoken to like some sleaze by someone they hated then just agreed to spread a few minutes later?

A prostitute, he supposed.

"Get some rest," his voice soft.

She was better than this. Once upon a time, at least, she had been. Daniel turned and left the cell, another pang of guilt striking at his core when he closed and locked the cell, locking his once-friend inside. But there was nothing to be done of that for now.

Three more hours. He circled around the desk again and closed each of the open drawers, the one where the pillow and blanket had been and the one with all the contraband. His feet propped up on the desk. Then they came down. Then he drank his coffee some more, a comfortable temperature by now, and resigned to playing Solitaire on the computer for the next few hours. Ah, Solitaire - a simultaneous cause and effect of boredom. At one point Minesweeper took over for a bit; that bastard Richie had the high score for about three months now. At another point he kicked his feet back up and went through some fishing magazine for the umpteenth time. There was a third cup of coffee in there somewhere too. This shift could be boring as all heck. Nobody else was booked and brought in the entire time, which both added to that boredom, but it was also good he guessed, as it meant Danica would be able to sleep.

Speaking of which, he was halfway there himself when he'd heard the booted footsteps clicking off the tile of the long hall. Eyes heavy, lidding, chaining yawns like a smoker would their cigarettes, Officer Jacobs sat up and rubbed at his eyes when he heard them. He yawned again, this one heavier, longer, a palm bunching into a fist at the front of his mouth. "Goddamn," he mouthed lightly from glancing at the computer; according to the clock running on the hand of Solitaire his current game had been running for an hour and ten minutes. How much of that had been spent napping?

"Mornin'."

"Mornin'."

"So what've we got?"

One last yawn as he sat forward. "Just some mild ones today. They're all set to be released this morning. Are you here for that, or...?"

"Nope, I'm here to relieve you," the woman smiled. "Go get some sleep."

"I didn't know we had angels working for us." Smirking, standing, he stretched, cracking his back some in the process. "Now that's what I've been waiting to hear." He clocked off his game, tossed his emptied cup from before in the trash, and otherwise straightened up a few things as the female officer took up the clipboard, reading over the basic info on each of the three in the holding cell. "It's about that time. Someone should be along any minute now to discharge the one. The others are still minors, so you've got some upset moms and pops to look forward to this morning."

"Fantastic," with an eyeroll.

"Ain't it? ...Oh," he was halfway to being gone when he stopped. Reaching over the desk, he pulled open the one drawer again and took out the baggie of white plastic bottles. Closing it, straightening himself, "The front desk asked me to bring this up with me." A lie. "Anyway, see you."

"See you. ...And hey, Danny, you've gotta stop with these long shifts sometime, alright? You're gonna wear yourself out."

"No kiddin'." He waved, turned the corner, and was gone. Someone would be there to let Danica out soon enough. That gave him time to change to his street clothes, punch out, and bring the car around front. They hadn't discussed that part, but eh, he wouldn't be a difficult person to find.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

It wasn't long after she had taken the two pills and ate half of the first sandwich that she drifted off into sleep. It was never a restful enough sleep, but at least she slept. The best thing was, the drugs made it dreamless. She curled up with the pillow and blanket, feeling weightless and fed. It wasn't long before her eyes drifted shut and she passed out cold. It wasn't as intense of a sleep as usual, but she slept just well enough that when something jerked her out of her sleep, she wasn't wanting to throw up from being so tired. She sat up and watched the exchange between the two officers with vague interest before noting that Daniel had lied for her. She sighed. Why would he bother? He looked at her as if she had been some shiny new doll that had been battered around into something hardly worth touching. She should have just told him to stuff it. Wiping a hand down her face, she sighed again and stretched out, popping all the bones in her back and ribs. It felt good. Once Daniel was gone, the officer in charge just gave her a look that spoke volumes of pity and she was tempted to give her the finger, but she didn't.

"Danica Maltiere, I presume?"

"That would be me, in case the trashy attire wasn't suitable enough of a hint."

The officer rolled her eyes and Danica had to roll hers. But she pulled her boots on and zipped them up to her knees and walked over to the cell door and just waited. She wasn't gonna taunt the woman or try to be a bitch, she just wanted to get out and go home. She could have smacked herself when she realized she had basically promised Daniel that she would go home with him. Pulling on the ends of her hair in frustration as the cell door opened, she was about to walk past when the woman gently touched her arm.

"I really don't want to see you in here again, Ms. Maltiere."

"I really don't want to be caught in here again, Officer."

Danica replied genuinely. Silent exchanges were passed between the two before Danica was free to leave and she exited the station, some of the guys getting on duty giving her some looks. She wanted to cover herself with her heavy blue sweatshirt but she had to deal with what she wore. It was the different in the daylight. She was a different person in the daylight. As she walked down the steps that led to the station doors, she saw a car parked out front and sighed. She really didn't want to see Daniel. Taking her time, she lit up a cigarette and took a drag, feeling the taste linger in her mouth. She needed a shower and to brush her teeth and a slew of things, but she couldn't at the moment. Walking around, she soon went over to the car in question and went to Daniel's driver side. She motioned for him to roll down the window and put out her cigarette before leaning down a little. She made sure she covered up her cleavage as much as she could, but it wasn't possible with her top of choice.

"Look...I'm not...." A pause. "I'm not easy. And don't dispute it right now with me. I'm not coming home with you to get paid and to sleep with you or whatever...I just...." Another pause and a sigh. "I'll cook some breakfast...if that's okay. And then...we should talk."

 

[As Day Fades]

Fucking cigarettes. Was this girl a chimney or was this just from the arrest? Daniel watched. In the back of his mind he added this to the list of shit he needed to break her of, though it wasn't nearly as prominent as some of the others. He just sighed for now, rolling his eyes, and tried to keep his gaze forward. He tried to not watch his once-friend's chest bounce in her top as she descended the steps in front of the station. He tried to not look at those curves - lord, those curves - but when he noticed her walking out in front of the car he did sit up a bit and look to her. She was going the opposite way of the passenger seat.

She knocked on the window. He rolled it down. Even with her doing what she could to block her cleavage, there was only so much. Out of respect, and for his own self-control, Daniel made a point of looking Red in the eyes. Thankfully she wouldn't be looking at his crotch right now either; it wasn't bad, but the thought of what she musta looked like from behind, bending over in his window, it did carry a certain threat of arousal with it. That was a thought to be dwelled on later.

"I hope you know I was being a dick in there on purpose," he said simply, calmly. "I don't think you're easy. And I actually didn't intend to take you home to mess around," though, Daniel knew, he was human. The thought had of course crossed his mind. "I wanted to get you somewhere where we could talk. Most people, if you tell them something like that they get all defensive, they put up a barrier." He glanced around a bit. She was Danica. She would always be Danica. Still, it felt awkward as shit to have her all skanked up and leaning into his vehicle right in front of a police station. If it wasn't obvious that this was the worst place in the world to transact a deal, someone might have been suspicious.

"I'll do the cooking. You've got a shower waiting for you. And I've got some stuff for you too, I think. She..." He paused. Daniel's eyes drifted away from hers. Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he looked forward, "She didn't bother to take everything when she left. I should still have some of Marie's clothes if you want, when we get there." A pause, and a smirk, "You've got the curves that she don't, but eh...I don't know. You two are close enough, I think?" Daniel shrugged. "I'm a guy. Anyway," he smirked again, "get your ass in."

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"She was a size bigger, so her clothes should fit fine, though be a little baggy."

Danica shrugged before she stood up straight and walked around the car and hopped into the passenger seat. She zipped off her boots and tossed them into the back. She hoped like hell that Marie had left a pair of sneakers behind or some fuzzy slippers. But at least she was getting a shower. Once they took off, she rolled the window down to get some fresh air, liking the way the wind felt in her hair. After the accident, it took her months to let anyone drive her and she still got tension in her back when she had to let someone else drive. But she was okay for now. She hoped it wasn't too long of a drive. And of course, like her old self, she couldn't be in a car without background music. Fidgeting with the radio, she found a rock station and let the noise fill the silence as she relaxed in the seat, seat belt firmly in place. She got a few looks from passing cars but she really didn't give a shit. She was more like herself in the daylight. It was just at night when she couldn't deal with the memories that she changed and needed some time with the darker side of herself taking over. The side that truly didn't give a fuck.

"So what are we having for breakfast?"

She asked quietly, looking out the window and thinking about how bright of a day it was. If it had been dismal, she probably would have bitched, but it was nice and sunny, even though she didn't have her shades. She didn't mind so much. It was nice to see the sun after all the darkness that kept creeping in. But before long she looked over at him again, trying to figure him out. She really just couldn't. As much as they had been friends that had drifted apart, she never had been able to solve the puzzle that made Daniel who he was.

 

[As Day Fades]

A good taste in music was always appreciated; remembering hers, Daniel made no effort to stop her when Danica started playing with the radio. Maybe her reaching over almost instantly to hit up the buttons was just for the sake of something to listen to. Maybe her taking off her boots right off the bat was because they were uncomfortable. Maybe. But there was a comfort and trust there that he couldn't help but notice after so long apart, and on such terms. He knew nothing of her issues in cars since the incident, but he was aware that he'd been driving that day, and that this was the first time they'd been in one together since then.

Without really needing to think about it, when they hit the first red light, when she finished searching the radio, before she could pull her hand away he gently reached out and took it, slipping his fingers over the back of her palm, hooking them around the front. And just, for those few seconds at the red light, holding. Whatever that meant.

"Lobster bisque," he replied simply. Daniel let go of her hand when the light changed. Looking back to the road, both hands on the wheel, his right foot pressed down on the gas gradually. Ten minutes wasn't a bad drive to and from work, not at all. This time of day though it'd be more like fifteen with the traffic. "How do banana pancakes sound? With a little bit of powdered sugar. The bananas are still pretty fresh. And, hm... Scrambled eggs and ham to go with? Would such please the lady?"

Two right turns, then a jug handle. "By the way, I moved a couple of months back. Same town though." It wasn't that much further now.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

"Did you now?"

She asked cautiously, her hand tingling a little from his touch. It was unusual. But she chose to ignore it instead rather than bring it up with him about why he had touched her or if he had felt the odd tingling, too. She wasn't stupid, but it was just...well, wasn't something she expected. She contemplated his breakfast choices and hummed a little bit to the music before she decided what she wanted for breakfast.

"Pancakes sound good, but I don't eat bananas. Eggs sound good to me. Got any bacon back at your place?"

She looked hopeful for a minute to have greasy delicious bacon. Much as she barely ate enough to keep herself healthy, she did eat sometimes. So being actually excited to have two meals in a row was a big deal for her. Danica combed her fingers through her hair, getting the unruly strands to cooperate into a messy ponytail. That shower was looking better and better the longer she sat there in the car. However, soon enough his place came into view. It wasn't anything fancy, but at least it was something. Her place was a little nicer, but that's because she was given some of Rafe's things and she hadn't let any of her horrible life ruin them. She sat in the car a minute before she got out, not caring that she didn't have shoes on. She left her boots in the car until she decided to come back out and get them.

"Lead the way, mon capitan."

 

[As Day Fades]

It was an apartment complex. Tall building, brick face, a few open patches of grass and various flowerbeds. Nothing too spectacular; it was what it was. After they left the car Daniel led her to his building at a leisurely walk. Danica was on his right; at his left side he held the plastic bag of confiscated bottles he'd tossed behind his seat for the ride over. They would be something to talk about, later. For now, he glanced over to their right right before entering the building, catching where a few older gentlemen were sitting at a table outside playing cards. "I think Mr.McGillis appreciates the view. I can hear his neck muscles creaking from here," with a smirk. He led her down the hallway. Passing by the elevator, Daniel always opted for the stairs. "Guy's like eighty-four, I think. Anyway, I'm up on the eighth floor."

His keys jingled in his palm as he sorted through them once they were on the right floor. Apartment 8-B was at the far end of the hall. "A few months ago the lease at the other place ran out. I guess a little before that was when Marie made the decision that I wasn't 'it.' I couldn't afford the place on my own, so here I am." The keys jingled a little more. He found the right one as they reached the door. Unlocking and opening the door, he led her inside, closing it behind them. It was pretty well furnished, a wraparound couch to the right with a separate armchair, coffee table in the middle, flat screen over by the wall. Past the couch was a small balcony. To the left was the kitchen area, just big enough to fit a small table inside. And to the right of the kitchen was a hallway that led to the bathroom, closet, and bedroom.

"Make yourself at home." Daniel bent over to snatch up the orange and white fluffball that had come to greet his legs. There was a second cat curled up over on the seat of the armchair, though younger, a grayish tabby, still a kitten. He ruffled the orange one's fur up a bit before unceremoniously dumping him over the back of the couch, letting him plop onto a cushion. "I'll be right back."

He slipped into the bedroom for all of thirty seconds. Two or three of those were him setting the plastic bag on his dresser, and another two or three were him walking over to a cardboard box he'd half filled and stuffed to a corner of his closet. Her stuff. The other twentyish seconds were him just kinda looking at it. Shrugging, shaking his head, Daniel picked up the box and carried it into the bathroom. He was back out about a minute later. "I put that stuff in the bathroom for you. There's some other things in there but it should be mostly clothes. You're welcome to whatever you want out of it." Though, as a man, he was gonna miss this visual show. At that thought, the corners of his lips couldn't decide if they would be smug or chagrin. Either felt awkwardly applicable. "Anyway, I'm gonna go get started on food."

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

She saw a few of the older men looking at her and she decided to humor them and give them a big smile and a wave as she followed behind Daniel. She saw a few of them blush and she couldn't help but shake her head. She listened to Daniel talk and just followed behind him quietly, not really feeling a thing about being so exposed. It wasn't like she had anything to cover herself up with and well, she didn't really give a fuck right now. It was early and she looked awful, but whatever. When he slipped past the elevator to the stairs, Danica shrugged and took the stairs easily. She went to the gym every day, so a few flights of stairs were nothing. Though, she did have to step carefully since she didn't have her shoes on. But then they were outside the door and she listened to him talk some more before she decided to say something.

"I had to sell our place, too...bought a little apartment in a good part of town. It's nice and affordable and no one bothers me, so it works..."

As Danica walked in, she wasn't sure what to think of it. Perhaps she had expected it to be more of a man cave and messy. But it was pretty clean and the two cats just added to the place. She would have expected some big hulking dog running at him in greeting than the adorable blob of fur that wrapped around his legs. When Daniel vanished into the hallway, she decided to go play with the cat who rubbed against her arms and face. The other cat- a little kitten- eventually got up and settled in her lap, purring against her belly. It was nice to be so easily welcomed. She stroked the cats' fur and relaxed with them on the couch, comfortable. And as she relaxed, she actually found herself drifting off into sleep on the couch until she heard Daniel come back into the room and she sat up quickly, disturbing the purr machines.

"All right...I'll go get changed and shower."

Slipping the kitten off her lap, she walked into the bathroom and noticed the box of stuff. She rifled through it and found a pair of blue sweatpants and a big gray sweatshirt. There were a few t-shirts, a random green bra, some socks, and a pair of jeans. She was a bit thankful there wasn't underwear in there. That would have just been weird. Turning on the shower, she waited for the water to heat up and removed her clothes. She saw marks from her clothing on her skin and just shrugged. Nothing much she could do about it. Once the water was warm, she let her hair down and hopped in, moaning at the feel of the warm water against her skin. It felt really good.

 

[As Day Fades]

"No. I'm not going to feed you now."

"Mow?"

"I have to run out to the store. I'll feed you when I get back, alright? I'll only be gone for a few minutes."

"Merow?"

"...Meow again if you agree you're a stupid cat."

The cat abandoned its cute little sit on the floor in front of him and its big glossy eyes, instead walking up to and twirling around Daniel's ankles a few times. This seemed to summon the other cat from the living room, the little gray tabby, whose purr announced her arrival far before she ever came into view. Then, once in view, she plopped on her butt much closer than the orange and white one had been, affectionately clawing at his right leg. "Ugh. Not you too. You'll eat when I get back!" He leaned down and pet both real quick, then made his way out the apartment door.

It felt weird to leave Danica by herself, but she'd be preoccupied, and he'd only be gone like fifteen minutes at most. Probably quicker. It was a simple walk to a corner grocer across the street from one end of the apartment complex. They had the basics, which were enough. They had bacon. She'd said something about really craving some. And she'd had a rough night. This wasn't really all that out of the way, so Daniel thought nothing of it. His mind was more occupied with getting back before she finished so it wouldn't be weird.

When he returned he started cooking up a list of things in the kitchen, careful as he moved about to not step on anything cute 'n fluffy. Scrambled eggs with just a little bit of cream cheese to make them extra fluffy and delicious, a pile of pancakes with sliced bananas for him, a pile without for her, both with powdered sugar sprinkled on, and in the oven was a package of bacon that would be cooked somewhere between soggy and crispy, that halfway point between each, as he didn't know which she liked. The goddamn smell permeated the apartment long before they'd ever be done. Sonofabitch.

Oh. Cats. He started opening up two cans of cat food, which, while this was going on, only made their mewing and dancing about that much worse.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

For awhile, she just enjoyed the hotness from the water. She massaged her sore and tired muscles with her hands before she eventually went about using his stuff to get the job done. She washed her hair with his shampoo and conditioner before rinsing it out and washing herself down with his body wash. She made sure to get everything clean before standing under the spray and just enjoying it again. One of his razors was in here with some shaving cream so she shaved her legs just in case there was any stubble. Chewing on her lip, she wondered vaguely if she should shave well, anything else but she was still pretty smooth down there so she vetoed that decision. Besides, it wasn't like she was getting ready for a date! It was just breakfast. She scrubbed herself down again just to make sure she was clean, though she would never truly be clean again, before turning off the water and hopping out of the shower.

Danica wrapped a towel about her body and dried off, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked betterish, but still tired. Then again, she always looked a little tired. The baggy of pills also had some of her make up in it, but she wasn't gonna ask to go use it. Her skin was smooth and basically flawless, but she wanted to dull out the circles under her eyes. Oh well, maybe some sun would do her skin good? She rummaged around for a spare tooth brush and brushed her teeth, finally catching the smell of the bacon. She practically started drooling yet managed to get her teeth cleaned. Breakfast with a friend (sort of) seemed appealing more than it usually did. Pulling on the sweatpants, she stood half-naked in the bathroom. He didn't have a hair dryer so her hair would just have to air dry so she combed it out and wrung out all the extra water.

Picking through the shirts, she put on a black wife-beater that hugged her curves. As she put on the shirt, she spied a pair of fuzzy slippers and put them on. They were purple and very soft on her feet and it just made her day brighter. She enjoyed the little things. She always had. Her hand clinked against the sink as she looked at her expression and looked at her hand. Rafe's ring was on her right hand instead of her left, but she would never take it off. It sparkled sadly rather than glowed and she hung her head. What was she doing being content...ish? However, she didn't let herself dwell on it. She couldn't dwell on it.

Soon she left the bathroom and trekked down the hallway, hearing the cats meowing loudly and the smell of homemade food bombarded her senses. She sighed and drifted into the kitchen, letting her nose lead the way. Her mind almost clicked into a different time and as she approached Daniel from behind she had to give herself a hard mental shove and walk away from him. She'd almost wrapped her arms about him from behind like she had done to Rafe every morning for years. It choked her heart that she almost had done that to Daniel and they hadn't seen each other for almost a year. Maybe it was the loneliness mixed with the familiar. She didn't know, but she couldn't let that make decisions for her.

"How's breakfast coming along? It smells great."

She said, the gray tabby rubbing against her legs. She smiled and cooed at it, stroking under its chin as it pawed at her and nibbled on her fingers. It was cute and made her wonder if she should get another pet to greet her back at her place.

 

[As Day Fades]

"Perfect timing," he replied. The food was pretty much done. As she sat down Daniel was upturning the open cans of wet cat food and forking them out onto a pair of saucers. As he bent over to set them on the floor the gray kitten left Danica in an instant and padded right over, joining the orange and white. Both took their seats, took to their plates, and except for the rhythmic purring, they both went immediately quiet. Daniel smirked. Standing, "You remember Creamsicle, yeah? He's got a new friend now. I got her about a month ago at work. She still doesn't have a name yet though." The burners were already off. He turned the oven off and opened it up. "She came from some flop house that was raided." He grabbed some potholders and moved the bacon to the stove, then reached down to close the oven. "Poorly fed, a bit scruffy, no collar, no shots...usually we post a flier at work or something rather than overfill the shelters."

Everything was cooked. It was another minute to divvy it all onto plates, with each one stacked pretty high. She was gonna eat; she didn't get a choice. Smirking, Daniel turned to her as he set the plates on the table, eyeing her up and down. "Now there's someone I remember." And, being a guy, he noticed instantly how the black wifebeater hugged her braless curves. That wasn't going to be constructive for a behaving libido. But as quickly as he glanced he glanced away, and just like that he forced it from his mind. Next came silverware, napkins, and because caffeine was probably a bad idea for either of them right now, two tall glasses of milk.

Then he sat down across the table from her. And, then as he took his seat, nothing else to do but actually have breakfast together, Daniel felt awash with an overwhelming feeling of awkwardness. ...Now what?

"You're welcome to stay for awhile, if you want." He started to dig in, his fork going for the eggs first. "I don't get the impression that either of us get a ton of visitors." Well, no, that wasn't the reason. But it was a good enough topic starter. His eyes had drifted down to the table. For some reason it felt weirder to look at her now than when she'd been all done up and overflowing before. "The bed's pretty soft. Gotta be better than a wood bench, at least." He smirked a little.