Author Topic: Picking up the Pieces  (Read 154 times)

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Offline Saiketsu

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Picking up the Pieces
« on: April 15, 2019, 09:18:22 AM »
continued from here.

With his seatbelt on and his bag slung at his feet, Quinn sat in the backseat of Damien's car with his arm around Rachel's shoulders. They laughed those loose laughs that result from too much emotional spillage, but it was the beginning of their new relationship together and he was fine with it. She hadn't told him much, mostly asked how he had been, what he was doing, where he was working. She wanted to know it all and with Damien so close, he felt a bit... embarrassed about describing his current life. So he simplified it - working at the White Rabbit, an apartment in Central, no boyfriend to speak of. They spoke of old friends and old things that put tears on the brim of her eyes, tears she didn't explain in the close confines of the car. Good thing he was good at changing the topic, though he couldn't feel comfortable doing so with such a lack of comprehension. He caught eyes with Damien in the mirror before he looked back to the road quickly.

When the car parked and they got out, Quinn wondered if they were still in the city, or if Rachel's boyfriend had taken him somewhere else. He looked up at the house and tried not to gape.

This wasn't a house; this was a fucking mansion. Rachel was living in a goddamn mansion!

Awe and excitement filled his face plainly and he forgot that he might be being rude. "Damn, Rachel," Quinn said quietly, more to himself than to her. There were pangs of jealousy there, and things that felt like the dark rot of anger. It confused him at first, that he could feel such darkness towards his best friend - once best friend. There were so many questions spinning in him and a tizzy was starting to get him worked up. "You two live here!?"

Damien, who was stepping out of the car casually, seemingly unphased by the sheer size of his own house, nodded with a humble smile that didn't feel super humble to Quinn. "Let's go inside. There's much to discuss."

"You're telling me." Quinn said before he could control himself and ascended the stairs after Damien and before Rachel.

That same odd mixture of awe and jealousy thrummed in his chest as they entered the house through the foyer. It looked exactly as he would have imagined it inside. New, remodelled, and bougie, with a private study and a full dining table. Rachel had been living the life that they had always laughed about wanting. He hated that it soured him, but he did his best to keep it to himself.

---

Damien said nothing as he felt the pulses of anger from the human - small, yes, but still there. Instead he caressed Rachel comfortingly, knowing that this night was about to get much harder for her. It wasn't his place to pry into the human named Quinn and convince him that his anger was misplaced. All would be explained to him soon, he was sure.

"What do you need, Rache? Do you want me to leave you in peace to talk?" He was apprehensive to do it, because Damien knew that it was going to hurt her terribly. He was already mentally preparing for her nightmares later on.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #1 on: April 15, 2019, 10:06:54 AM »
The car ride was more awkward than Rachel would've preferred, and she found herself tumbling into a rabbit hole of old memories with her old friend.  It felt heavy and clumsy, like fumbling to remember the steps to an old, old dance.  The laughter and small talk felt both welcome and forced at the same time.  There was a persistent burning sensation in her lungs and she just couldn't wait to get home.  In spite of the years' distance between them, she still took immense comfort in the affectionate arm around her shoulder.

Rachel was more than apprehensive at having to explain everything.  It was messy and painful; and at this point in the evening, she wasn't sure how she would gather the strength to do it.  Where would she begin?  How much detail should she go into?  Probably not that much.  Just keep it simple, basic.  It was horrific enough, no need to paint it in technicolor. 

When they got out of the car, a bright red hue colored her cheeks and she kept her eyes mostly down.  She had forgotten that her living situation would have been a shock to him, and she felt a deep sense of shame watching him react to it.  Neither of them really came from money.  The apartment they shared together was livable, sure, but it was nothing compared to this.  And after she had just asked him about what he was doing with his life, the juxtaposition made everything worse.  They used to rag--jealously--on the upper class together.  That memory stuck painfully in her mind as they moved into the house together.

Damien suddenly in her mind caused her to flinch, and she glanced between the two men before answering.

"I'd rather we were alone, yes.  I'll be okay.  Thank you."  She gave him a small, reassuring smile before reaching for Quinn's hand.

Rachel took a deep breath.  "Hey.  You want something to drink before we settle?"  Her voice was quiet and slightly raspy, tone like a wounded animal.  "I've got lots of tea and hot chocolate.  Unless you want something stronger."  An empty laugh.  Her heart was pounding and the burning in her chest persisted.  Her hands were probably getting sweaty, and she released Quinn's just in case, feeling a new wave of self-consiousness coming. 

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #2 on: April 19, 2019, 12:01:31 PM »
He gave her an affectionate, protective hug and kissed the top of her head before he went into his office and closed the door where he fiddled with things nervously for the remainder of the time.

---

Quinn looked away from them and in his awkwardness, pretended to be looking at the rest of the house. He was never a fan of displays of affection in front of others and Damien hugging Rachel so close to him only proved to make him more uncomfortable, like some kind of outsider. His throat tightened on itself - Quinn examined the tiles.

"No, I'm good," the human said softly in response to his former friend, feeling a distance he wasn't used to. Dread began to eat away at the edges of his mood and his brain did the thing where he thought too much about it. He didn't quite understand why they would be "settling down" as Rachel had said. He didn't have the nerve to ask for booze at the moment, though he was interested in a stiff drink. By the looks of Damien, there wouldn't be any in the house anyway.

Quinn turned to set himself in the expansive living room behind him. A rather large Husky sat looking at him with its ears up, watching and listening. It sat in a pile of blankets that looked specifically comfortable to lay in, but her head was trained on Quinn "Oh," he said surprised, keeping his distance from the dog and sitting on the opposite end of the couch, leery of the animal. He didn't always get along with animals and more often than not didn't know what to do with them. Most pets were fun to look at and pet occasionally, but this one seemed... different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It felt too... human, too trained. The big black nose wiggled as the dog sniffed at him, the head leaning in slightly to get a better whiff. Otherwise, it remained still, gazing.

"I didn't realize you had a dog. It scared me at first. Is it friendly?" He couldn't be too sure at the exact moment.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #3 on: April 20, 2019, 02:04:49 AM »
Rachel followed Quinn into the living room, the feeling of heaviness beginning to close in.  Already she was going over phrasing in her mind, how she would start.  What she would say, what she would leave out.  His question broke through the whirlwind in her mind and she looked sharply up.

"Shit, sorry.  That's Delilah--she's super friendly and cuddly so nothing to worry about."  Rachel gave the dog a scratch on the head before sitting between Quinn and the dog.  "Unless you want me to move her?  I can do that if she's making you uncomfortable."  She spoke fast, making a move to get up, eager to make Quinn feel as welcome and comfortable as possible.  Partly because she was putting off the inevitable conversation.  If he wanted Delilah moved, she would put her outside to run around before coming back and sitting down next to Quinn again. 

"Actually, do you mind if I change real quick?  It just feels...weird being dressed up and telling you about... this."  Her expression was heavy as she stood.  "It'll only take a minute, I promise." 

Delaying again.  She felt guilty leaving him in there alone but she really wanted to get out of the dress.  Anything she could do to make telling him less...uncomfortable.  After his answer, she left with a quick little dash, bending to take off her heels as she went from the living room and upstairs into their bedroom.

There was an uncomfortable knot in her throat as she closed the door behind her, leaning her back against it and exhaling a sigh.  Again she practiced what she would say in her mind, running through the events on a timeline.  She felt strangely detached from it, as if it were someone else's life she was reviewing.  It felt so far away now. 

She crossed over to the dresser, slipping out of her dress as she went and leaving it in a pile on the floor.  Something she knew would bug Damien, but she didn't have the energy to deal with it right now.  He would understand.  Rachel picked out one of Damien's tee shirts, feeling like she would need that sort of comfort, and a pair of her sweatpants.  She didn't linger any more than necessary, and hurried back down the stairs and into the living room.

"Sorry, I just..."  Rachel sighed, flopping down on the couch a couple feet away from where Quinn was sitting.  She leaned forward and rubbed at her face.

"Okay."  She exhaled and twisted to face him, tucking one leg under her.  "This is a hard thing for me to explain."  Her voice was small, hesitant. 

"The day I disappeared.  A guy came into work that morning.  All dressed up in a suit like he was from some big company or some shit."  Her expression was dark and she seemed to shrink into herself.

"He was really good looking, charming, and charismatic.  He said he liked my service, and that he had a job opening that he thought I would be a really good match for.  That I'd be making more money there in a week than I made in a month.  He said he was doing interviews at 4:00 pm if I was interested in learning more."  She paused here, sighing heavily through her nose.

"He gave me an address.  I went home after work, showered, dressed in my best interview clothes, and left."  She was quiet for a minute before looking at Quinn.  "You were at work.  I didn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you if I got the job."  Her voice wavered and she looked away.  Trying to compose herself and fight off the tears.

"Anyway, as soon as I got to the address I knew something was wrong.  It was some new construction in that part of the city they were developing that was pretty dead."  She exhaled, finding a bit of strength in the detached feeling that had been edging in.

"I thought I might've fucked up the address, but before I could check this van...came around the corner and suddenly like three guys appeared and the next thing I knew I was in the van."  Her voice broke, tears pooling in her eyes.  She grit her teeth and clenched her fist, body tensing at the memory replaying in her mind.

"I was so fucking stupid."  She was on the edge of tears again, anger bubbling up.  "I know I shouldn't have gone alone.  I knew it sounded too good to be true.  He didn't even give me any details--which I knew was shady but I fucking fell for it anyway."  A few shaky sobs escaped before she could swallow them down again.  She cleared her throat.  It wasn't as hard as the first time she had explained it aloud to Damien, but it did still hurt to remember.  There was more she wanted to explain, but she needed a second to breathe.

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #4 on: April 22, 2019, 05:10:05 AM »
He had always found her a bit flighty, avoiding hard shit whenever the opportunity arose for her to do so. It was never anything major that caused him much distress, but hard conversations were always a weak point for her. Or at least they had been. When she got up to change, Quinn felt that familiar annoyance that he had forgotten about. He sat with the dog - Delilah - who huffed quietly and laid her big head back down on her front paws. She was cute as far as dogs went, but Quinn couldn't stop feeling like he was out of place, transposed into someone else's life. There was no room for him here among the porcelain tiled floor, spacious, open house, the perfectly green grass growing outside. The house felt hollow to him, big and fake like some kind of stage set. Rachel lived here now. He wondered whether meeting up with her again was some mistake. He frowned, wanting desperately to believe that this was some mood he was in and not the truth.

When Rachel came back downstairs, he had contemplated leaving fleetingly, half-wondering how much it would cost for a cab to take him to the White Rabbit for work. The Rachel who greeted him was more familiar to him and made him regret the thought of leaving before he gave her due explanation. Sweatpants and her boyfriend's tee shirt. Back to normal. Quinn let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, trying to release his own tension.

There was some kind of awkwardness lingering between them in the air now that Quinn didn't fully understand. How long had it been since he had seen her? The math was weird, the time skewed. He didn't remember most of it; his own time spent recovering from poverty, losing her, and trying to start a new life. He lost their apartment only two months after losing her, forcing him to move first to Boston, then to Springfield, to Providence, then he left New England all together. He had been in the city for just over four years now. Had she been here the entire time, living in this gorgeous house with this gorgeous boyfriend without the usual cares they used to have together? He wrestled with the thought as she sat down, anger welling in that deep place in his chest.

As she explained a story he didn't understand - and almost rolled his eyes at - he stayed silent and absorbed it all. At several points he wanted to interrupt her, to react, but he couldn't trust himself not to make the situation worse, her emotions filling the room and settling his pettiness. She had been kidnapped - did you still call it kidnapping?

He had words, all of them unhelpful. When she paused for a breath he obsessively went over the things she was saying. They didn't make sense to him. His heart, angry, jealous, and petty only moments before she started talking, now made him feel as if he were going to vomit. She didn't have to say anything else - Quinn's mind raced with all the insinuations. He wasn't dumb - there would really only be one thing that someone would take pretty young women off the street for. He felt sick. His skin started feeling clammy and he inadvertently started closing off his posture. He didn't want to hear anymore and he knew that it was shitty to say so.

She had been trafficked. He didn't want her to confirm it; he wanted to be selfish and pretend she hadn't told him that. His Rachel, his Rachel. He prayed to a god he didn't believe in that Rachel would tell him something better than this next, but stayed silent otherwise.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #5 on: April 22, 2019, 07:52:36 AM »
Rachel missed his reaction and body language, looking firmly at the floor in front of the couch.  She had taken a pillow from beside her to hug close to her chest as she silently fought against the urge to cry.  Too exhausted to continue letting herself do that.  She'd never get through the explanation if she did.  His lack of response hurt her, and she tried to console herself with the fact that he was probably just letting her talk.  But there was a distance between them that she hated.  She hated everything about this situation, except for the fact that they had finally reconnected after so long.

She missed Quinn terribly.

Taking a slow, deep breath she began again.  "There were five other girls in the van and two guys with guns.  They made me empty my pockets and they took my purse and my phone."  What started as relatively monotone broke into a whisper. "We drove for hours and nobody had any idea where we were going."

In her mind she could clearly see them, crying and terrified, trying to talk to each other but getting sternly hushed by the guards.  Trying to talk to the guards but getting threatened by the guns.  By the end of the ride, they had huddled together for comfort, trembling as one in silence.

"Eventually,"  her voice came out strange and she cleared her throat.  "We were taken to some shady hotel outside this city."  She hugged the pillow tighter.  She hated this part and quickly went through an editing process in her mind.  He didn't need to know everything.  He probably didn't want to know everything. 

"To make a long story short,"  she laughed with empty, awkward humor, "I was kept there for almost six months before I escaped."  Shoeless, out a broken window and down a fire escape in the winter.  Dressed like a--

"I was just running through alleyways without a clue to where I was.  Technically I was caught--"  she winced at the memory, sighed and put her face into the pillow, feeling another rush of embarrassment coming in.  It sounded like some story she made up to sound tragically dramatic. 

If only it were just that.

"The boss of that place is still after me."  she said quietly, and finally looked up at Quinn.  She knew she was leaving holes--but there was something she had to make sure of first.

"Do you know about this city?  Like..."  she sighed in frustration, "about the things that live in this city?"  She hoped to fuck that he did because she really wasn't looking forward to explaining that shit too.

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #6 on: April 22, 2019, 10:08:13 AM »
He was trying to follow her story, but the feeling of panic was rising in his chest. He wanted to leave, to go to work, to simply escape hearing this. It was too surreal. Things like this didn't happen to him and his friends; they happened in the midWest, in the south, in Paris like that Liam Neeson movie. Paralyzed, strapped in to his spot by their friendship, Quinn listened. There was a moment he felt lightheaded and realized he was holding his breath. He took a shaky breath as she tried to make a long story short.

How was he supposed to react to this? Rachel had never lied to him before - well, sure about surprise birthday parties and whether he looked sober enough to go in public. She wouldn't be lying about this. Why would she? That was the biggest shock - this was the truth. That was the fact that he couldn't swallow. He desperately wished she was the lying type and that she had just walked out of his life because she couldn't pay rent or something, or lost her job and didn't want to face the shame. At least then he could shrug her off and forget about her as some douchebag ex-friend. No, the truth was much worse than all that.

He almost missed the question she posed, trying to swallow the knot that was building in his throat and the water in his eyes. She was running away, but she was caught, and then, what happened? Confusion flooded his features as he came back to her. "Do I know about what?" Quinn paused, thought about the question and then eyed her cautiously. Was she talking about the vampires? Was it safe to talk about it here? Or was she talking about something else entirely. The two humans held eye contact and a moment of understanding passed between them without comment.

"Yes," he choked out, his throat suddenly very dry. He looked at her with a very fearful gaze.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #7 on: April 22, 2019, 10:30:24 AM »
Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes.  "Thank fuck," she whispered and then laughed.  It sounded borderline hysterical in tone, and this seemed to energize her a bit.

"The asshole running the..."  she trailed off, not sure what to call it,  "the hotel was..."  she dropped to a whisper  "a literal.  Fucking.  Demon."  She lowered her head and looked at Quinn, finding his fearful look unnerving.  Part of her thought that maybe she should stop telling him.  That it might be too much.  She had experienced it all, so she had no frame of reference with how disturbing it might be to hear it.  But it was too late to stop now.  Now she wished she had just grabbed that bottle of rum they had stashed in the cupboard.  She had half the mind to stop and get it.

"I was extremely lucky the night I escaped.  There was something big going on that was enough of a distraction."  She was aware that she was backtracking now, and pressed her hand to her forehead while she retraced her thoughts.  "Two or three--I don't remember how many--guards came after me and I was cornered in some dead end."  Somewhere in her mind, she could still remember their breath hot on her face and she grimaced. 

"Damien and..."  she lowered her voice unnecessarily (because they were in the privacy of her home) and looked at Quinn to gauge his reaction as she talked "his fledgling were out that night and happened to see me.  They fought off the guys who caught me, and took me back into the city."

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #8 on: April 22, 2019, 11:24:54 AM »
He nodded stupidly to express his understanding of what she told him, still unable to form much of a reaction. His head was swimming with everything that was said and unsaid. When she told him about Damien, his eyes softened and his chest ached for her. So he was the reason that Rachel was safe here in this big old house? Quinn felt like an ass for responding him with such suspicion and hate. He would have to thank him later somehow.

"But, wait, Rachel," he said, slowing down and doing the math, "you said you were... you know... for like five months? It's been five years! Where have you been, here?" He looked at her incredulously, the water starting to fall from the inside of his eyes as he hastily brushed it away. "Why didn't you find me? Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you reach out to me!" His voice was getting louder, more uncontrolled, more tearful. He hated this. The dam broke and the pain of losing her broke free despite his best efforts of being the supportive friend. What a shithead.

"We all thought you were dead!" Him, her mother, her coworkers from the diner, their friends, even the fucking landlord. They had hunted the city of Dorchester for her, finally giving up after months of flyers and Saturday's spent talking to cops, demanding answers. He couldn't look at her anymore, feelings conflicting and making him feel guilty. There was too much here, too much to sort through. He felt, not for the first time tonight, that he was drowning with the knowledge of it all. Everything was different now - he had a life without Rachel, in which Rachel was dead and a memory that he left behind in Massachusetts. Quinn threw himself back into the couch cushions at his back, looking away from her like a pouting child. There was just too much. The human crossed his arm over his chest and held the bridge of his nose with the other hand, eyes closed.

He was a terrible friend.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #9 on: April 22, 2019, 11:55:39 AM »
Her heart jumped into her throat when he turned away, and any confidence or resolve she had within her withered on the spot.  Dark guilt swirled within her and she couldn't take a deep breath.  Of course he was upset.  It was only fair.

"I couldn't..."  she choked on her reply.  There were no simple answers. 

"After they got me out, the Demon came after."  Her voice was strained under the need to explain.  "He hunted me--we had to move because He found me.  He attacked Damien's fledge and burned him trying to get to me."  Her tone was edging on angry now.  Angry that she felt like she had to justify herself.  "I didn't know what He was capable of.  I was terrified that if I went back to where we lived He would just take me again.  Or come after you if He knew about you--just to try to get to me."  She spoke rapidly and it sounded like she squeezed the last part out.  She took a gulp of air.  "By the time I felt like I could pick up a phone safely to try to call you, the number was disconnected."  She didn't mean it to sound like an accusation but it might've.

"I had nightmares every night for years.  I haven't been able to go anywhere by myself for years--I haven't been outside this backyard during the day in years."  There were tears flowing freely down her face again.  She didn't want the conversation to turn into this, but she was feeling defensive.

"For all I know, He's still out there waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch me because He's fucking sick like that."  She hated that she knew that.  Rachel squeezed the pillow to her chest, pressed her face into it and exhaled.

Of course they thought she was dead.  She basically dropped off the face of the planet. 

"I'm sorry."  A tiny voice came from her between tears  "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner.  I'm sorry you thought I was dead."

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #10 on: April 22, 2019, 12:43:07 PM »
He felt like an idiot, sobering in his anger towards her, his face streaked with tears. Quinn wiped them angrily and looked back at his friend, listening as she defended herself against the things he shouldn't have thrown at her. Of course she would have tried to find him if she could. He had changed his number after leaving the apartment in Boston, needing a cheaper bill, a newer phone, and a new start. He never thought it would come back to him like this. Hesitantly, Quinn took Rachel's hand, his heart bleeding for her and this terrible situation. As long as she let him, he kept a firm hold of her in the space between them. He wanted her to know that he was there and he needed the same thing from her.

"What do you mean? This guy is still out there? Is he in the city?" There was so much that he wanted clarified, but this was the most pressing. This demon could be right inside the city. Could he have visited the Pompeii while Quinn worked there? Could he have been a patron of the White Rabbit while Quinn joked and poured shots? The thought sent a shiver down his back and made him inch towards Rachel for comfort he had missed.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death

Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #11 on: April 23, 2019, 12:31:09 AM »
Rachel squeezed his hand, feeling reassurance in the contact.  She wasn't angry with him.  This whole thing was a shit-show and figuring all of it out was going to be messy and take time.

"We don't know for sure.  We haven't seen him in a couple of years now."  She admitted quietly.  "He's a sadistic fuck.  He always talked about how much He enjoyed tracking someone down, waiting for the right moment..."  And breaking them.  She didn't want to talk about him anymore--not like this anyway.  Her face went into the pillow again, and she shuffled along the couch to cuddle next to Quinn.  Like she used to. 

"I want to say that I think he's given up.  But I really don't know."   She leaned against his shoulder and put the pillow down beside her.  "We just hired a daytime bodyguard--we were out to dinner to celebrate."  She laughed and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.  How could she explain to him that in spite of how it looked, she had only really just gotten a handle on living her own life again?

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #12 on: April 28, 2019, 12:56:10 AM »
Quinn accepted her contact easily, realizing that he was craving it. He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. It has been such a long time since they had spent time together that he forgot what it was like having her near. Rachel was one of the first people in his adult life that had shown him true love and acceptance, even if it was only platonically. Neither of them had ever had it easy in life and there was a bond of solidarity that they shared in that sadness, in that struggle to survive. She was the one that brought him food and weed when he was hospitalized after trying to kill himself. She was the one who sat with him in the outpatient group therapies for recovering mental cases. She was the one who threatened to smash in the headlights of all the cars of the boyfriends who had ever cheated on him or abused him. That was their relationship. He had chased off some of her exes with a baseball bat, picked her up when she was in terrible situations at bars, or made her dinner of macaroni and cheese and hotdogs when she came home after pulling a fourteen hour shift.

He missed it all, and until she was leaning on him, he didn't actually realize how much he had missed it. There was no one else who had tried to fill her shoes - not that he would have let them. Rachel's space had remained empty in his heart, missing her. Certainly other friends had come and edged against that space that Rachel had made, but there was no filling it. Not ever. That space in him was her memorial, her vigil, his grief and love for here.

Now that he held her, he wondered if he had made that memorial too small for her. No doubt that space had shifted, changed over time to be what he needed in order to survive. Would she actually be able to just fit snuggly back into the space that he had made for her? She was a different person with different, horrible experiences now. She had a man who loved her - or at least he'd better - a dog, a big fancy house, and now a bodyguard. He had an apartment, a job, and a different set of depressive tendencies that he was working through. There was plenty of room for her in his life still and he wanted nothing more than to have things go back to the way things were before she had left - an impossible task. Would there be room enough for him in her life?

There was too much here. She had been stolen, trafficked, prostituted, abused, freed, contained, defended, and kept secret. There was a five year gap missing in their lives together. He didn't know her situation anymore and the feeling was most likely mutual. All he wanted to do was hold his Rachel, his best friend in the world. But was this his Rachel? He couldn't relate to or fathom the terrors she had endured and it was too much for him. It made it all seem hard. He couldn't accept that someone would hurt her so willingly, and yet here she was. He wanted to know everything and knew at the same token that he wouldn't be able to handle it all at once. Not in this moment.

"Rache, I don't know what to say," he admitted as he held her. A pause from him as he tried hard to find something that he could respond to. He snorted, thinking of something stupid. "So Damien is a vampire?"
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

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Offline rainshadowck

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #13 on: April 28, 2019, 01:39:47 AM »
When Quinn pulled her into his arms the tension in her body melted.  She hadn't realized what a gap her life had in the absence of close friendship like this.  Sure, she had Damien but that was different.  And as much as she considered Pierre and Jenella friends, they weren't really close and they were kind of obligated to be nice to her.  Rachel had been so focused on just surviving for the past few years that she hadn't realized how starved for friendship she had been.  She missed the genuine silly shit they had gotten into.  Their brunch traditions, the Netflix and weed, sneaking her into bars she had no business being in.  The hard shit too--that added the depth and closeness.  They had been through so much together.

It was like a fog was beginning to lift, and while she was hopeful there was the terror that it would be taken from her as soon as she got too comfortable with it.

"There's nothing to say,"  she felt heavy, wanting to push it all away but forcing herself to remain open and approachable for any questions he would have.  When he did ask his question, she laughed.

"Yeah, he is.  I hope that doesn't freak you out too much?"  Worry edged into her tone.  Especially lately, she took his immortality for granted.  Dating him brought more humanity out and it was easy to forget that he was anything but.

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Picking up the Pieces
« Reply #14 on: April 28, 2019, 02:03:51 AM »
Quinn smiled and turned a bit red, his pale skin hiding nothing. He thought of Jerry and the many nights that they had gotten into shit over the past few years. Rachel had no idea about that and he felt a touch embarrassed even thinking about telling her how much he liked having the vampire drink from him. But if she were with a vampire, surely she knew how it was?

"No," Quinn said shaking his head gently, snuggling her. "But is he going to feel weird about the fact that you're in here alone with me?" He would tell her about Jerry later - after all, it's not like he and Jerry were actually anything more than friends with particular benefits.

"Oh shit, has he been listening this whole time?" Quinn panicked, his body going rigid beneath her. These fucking immortals and their stupid abilities to know things they shouldn't.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

The HermitThe Devil | Justice | Temperance | The Empress | The Star | Death