Night Fury: Second Act Part 3

I work tirelessly to replant what I can of the vegetables that Clark ripped up from my garden. I'm in such a state of panic about them dying that I'm not even humiliated by the fact that my eyes water.

A moment of clarity pa.s.ses; I have an epiphany.

Regardless of how hard I work to put this garden together, to make it flourish and bloom, to care for it and nurture it, all it took was a man with a temper to destroy months of hard work.

I'm sure this is the way my victims see me.

No matter how hard they have worked to put a life together, to make a family, to provide and support them, all it takes is an email to Mirage and an entire life is destroyed. Normally not just one. A handful of lives.

In a moment of weakness, guilt swarms me. I've always thought of the person I'm hunting, never the families who are left behind.

I blink, scoff, and then roll my eyes. Such deep thoughts being raised because someone ripped up my tomato plants. I need to get out more. Really.

"I'm sorry," comes from behind me.

My shoulders hunch in a defensive stance. A moment pa.s.ses before my posture loosens slightly. Standing, I remove my gardening gloves and make my way to the bench where Clark now sits.

He looks like s.h.i.t.

Ha ha.

I secretly gloat about it.

With both eyes swollen, his nose crooked and his jaw bruised, I take pleasure in knowing he got what he deserved.

It doesn't matter what I did; I didn't deserve his hands on me. I didn't deserve the nasty things he said to me. He said things that made me question myself, and that hurt. In fact, I should be given props that I didn't raise my own hands to him because in all seriousness, I could've hurt him. Badly.

I sit on the bench with a sigh. "You should be."

He looks down at the ground and responds pitifully, "I am. I really am. I was an a.s.shole." He turns to me, his face a mask of confusion. "Why didn't you hit me?"

Whoa. That's a loaded question.

I turn away from him and look to my destroyed garden. The bridge of my nose tingles. I blink back tears, clear the thickness out of my throat and reply a hushed, "Because the thought of hurting you kills me."

In my peripheral vision, Clark crumbles. His voice shakes, "I'm sorry, Cat. So f.u.c.king sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. It was all lies. I just wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting."

We sit in silence, unsure what to say to each other.

I try to let him know that I understand in a weird way. "I get it, sort of. Like when what happened with James happened and Bob banned me from Mirage. I wished you'd come see me." I whisper, "I prayed you'd come see me and take me away for a while." I swallow hard. "I knew Bob was keeping you from me. I knew it was his order. I know he kept you out of my sight because he was protecting me and you had to abide by it until he said otherwise," I turn to face him, "but it hurt. And for a while, I hated you for it. Even though you didn't have a say in the matter."

Silence. Then he speaks softly, "I wanted to come for you. So many times, I thought about rescuing you from here. Taking you away, somewhere you could just be you, but I couldn't. No matter how many times I told myself you deserved a better life, I knew this is what you know. All you know. That and Bob would've killed me. He ordered us out of sight. If you were in the garden, we weren't allowed out of Mirage. And sometimes you were there for hours. We just had to wait it out. The second you were initiated, the ban was lifted and I thought I finally had my chance with you." He sighs, "Why him? It could've been anyone. Anyone at all." He quiets a moment, and then asks a pain-laced, "Why him, Cat?"

My reply doesn't sound as stupid in my head. "Because of the zing."

Clark nods feigning understanding, then chuckles, "I have no idea what that is."

I try to hide my smile but I'm so relieved that Clark and I are talking that I do a really bad job of it. "Don't make fun of me. It's a thing. A real thing." He looks at me through swollen, black eyes expectantly. I sigh, "You know when you kiss someone, and it's more than words can describe? You feel so at home with them and just feel so much, as one, that you can't quite comprehend what's happening to you?"

Clark stiffens. "Yeah. Kind of like how I felt when we kissed."

Oh, man. That sucks.

A wkward.

I cringe and whisper, "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be. How can I blame you for feeling something for someone who isn't me? That's not cool." He sighs, "I really f.u.c.ked up this morning. I've never been so angry before. Soon as I heard you in his room, something came over me. This anger, and it just kept brewing, you know? By this morning, I'd worked myself up about it so much that I guess I snapped." He stands. "You don't owe me an explanation, Cat. I'm sorry I asked for one. You don't owe me anything."

I watch as he walks away, but deep in my gut, I know this issue is far from over.

Ugh. Men.

With my arms elbow deep in bread dough, the kitchen echoes with mixed laughter.

Ari sips her coffee, chuckling, "Mon Dieu! You should have seen his face. I dressed in my habit wearing my Marilyn Monroe mask. I lifted my hand, lit the match and dropped it into the accelerant. I started to walk away, but I wanted to see his face." Her French accent kicks a.s.s. "He looked at me and asked, 'why?'. I shrugged and answered, 'why not?'. The entire building was alight in minutes. I finally left and the explosions sounded like fireworks." She sighs then smiles, "It was fun."

The makeshift drug lab the next town over had been producing unclean product, so many people in the tri-county area have ended up dead from this supplier. Bob ordered the building be destroyed. If they don't have a building, they don't have the means to make the crack. They don't produce the crack, no one gets sick.

Everyone wins.

I frown. "I don't understand why we didn't do it months ago when people started getting sick."

Frankie bites into her apple, chewing slowly. She answers a garbled, "Because it wasn't ordered. We don't get to touch anyone without an order. Without order, there's chaos. Remember that."

I nod. I get it. I just wonder how far is going too far. If we start dictating who lives and dies, what does that make us?

Ari looks to Frankie cautiously. "Do we have any information on Tomas and his brother?"

Frankie stiffens. Her gaze flickers towards me. "Uh, yeah. We found something."

I'm immediately interested. "What is it?"

Frankie takes another bite of her apple, chewing slowly. Too slowly.

I glare at her, and then snap, "I know what you're doing! Just tell me, dammit!"

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. Relax. The brother recently got out of prison for armed robbery."

I knew it! He's an ex-con junkie a.s.shole. Great.

Frankie puts a hand up in my direction. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't go jumping the gun. You need to hear the rest." I nod for her to continue and she does, "Soon as he got out, he fought to get custody of Tomas. The state wouldn't allow full custody until he took courses in first aid and anger management. They allowed partial custody though. He didn't show up the first day of the anger management course..." deadbeat, "...so an officer went to their home to find the brother caring for Tomas who was ill with a high temperature. The officer reported that the brother was equal amounts protective and panicked, but through his panic, he calmed himself and did a good job taking care of his brother. He was pardoned from the course, but took the next entry regardless. He completed both courses and has full custody of his brother. Every social services visit he is reported as improving."

I can't believe that.

If I believe that, it means I was wrong. And I hate being wrong.

Frankie smiles sadly. "I don't know what you saw, Cat, but the guy is trying. He's trying really hard. Until such time that we have anything solid on him, we won't touch him."

I bite the inside of my cheek and sigh, "Yeah, okay. But don't think for a second that I'm letting this go."

Ari chuckles while shaking her head.

Frankie grins then throws her apple core at me. "Oh, don't worry. I wasn't that hopeful."

I smirk. She knows me too well.

Chapter Six.

The rain pours outside of my window. I should've been asleep hours ago, but thoughts of Marco have me wide awake.

Thoughts of the few nights I slept in Marco's bed run through my mind. Some part of me wants to believe that it was real, or that even if it wasn't, those moments that made my stomach flutter were real.

"I was jealous."

My stomach clenches at the fact that I'd been had. Perhaps the years Bob took, forbid me from Mirage, were in vain. All that extra training, all the late night sparring sessions and psychology lessons... Maybe I haven't learned a d.a.m.n thing since James.

It's well past midnight. I need sleep. I'm cranky when I don't get sleep, not to mention, useless. Trying in vain to relax enough to make the transition into slumber, I shift around, get comfortable and bury myself deeper into my cot mattress. I close my eyes, breathe deeply and finally feel my head heavy.

As soon as I'm about to fall asleep, a loud banging has me jerking upright. Again, the banging continues. I get up out of bed and open the door to my room. Bob strides pa.s.sed me dressed in only pyjama pants. He carries his robe with him, dressing along the way.

Frankie exits Bob's quarters dressed in only a white nightie. Now that she and Bob are basically a thing, she doesn't spend her nights at Mirage anymore. She stops by my door. "What the f.u.c.king f.u.c.k?"

"My thoughts exactly." I peer over at her. "Let's check it out."

She sighs, "Bob would be p.i.s.sed."

I agree, "Totally."

Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.

She nods, "Let's go."

Yes!

Frankie loops her arm through mine and we quietly follow the muted noise down to the front entrance of the church. A few feet behind, we stop and listen.

Bob utters, "I'm sorry. That's not possible."

A man responds, "I need help, man. Where the f.u.c.k am I meant to go?"

Bob sighs, "A clinic. There's one two towns over."

The man's voice rises, "I got responsibilities! I can't leave everything behind and take off like that. Besides, I can't afford it." He pauses, but when Bob doesn't respond, he pushes forward, "I asked everyone I know in town. They all told me to come here."

Frankie and I peek out into the moonlit foyer. Bob blocks the doorway so we can't see out.

When Bob doesn't respond, the man speaks again, but this time, his voice quivers. And my heart aches. "Please, Father. Please. I'm begging you." Then he whispers, "I need your help."

Bob breathes deeply, and then replies on an exhale, "This won't be easy. You know that, right?"

"I can take it." The man's confidence has returned with the small amount of hope Bob has offered. "Whatever you tell me to do, I'll do."

Frankie and I watch as Bob pushes the door open. "Cat, come here, please."

My mouth near gaping at our guests, I step out of the shadows and walk forward. Bob moves out of the way and explains, "Tomas and Xavier will be staying here a while."

Xavier.

Tomas's brother's name is Xavier.

I look at them, soaked to the bone from the rain, looking pitiful and shaking from the cold.

Not thinking, I step forward to Tomas and reach for him.

Panic settles over Xavier's face. His arm snakes out, stopping me. He rushes out, "He doesn't like being touched. Especially not-"

I cut him off by reaching past him to gently take Tomas's elbow, "Not around the shoulders or neck. I know. We have that in common." Tomas allows my touch and much to my surprise, his rigid arm circles my neck. He pulls me in a little too tightly, but I accept his hug with an overwhelming rush of emotions. I utter a hushed, "It's nice to see you, too, Tomas. Why don't I find something dry for you to wear and we'll set you up in your own room?"

Xavier watches me with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

He almost looks hurt, which surprises me.

Bob calls out, "Sister Francis, I could use your help here."

Tomas loosens his hold on me. Smiling, I take his contorted hand and walk him down the hall to the spare bedroom. As we walk, I tell him, "I was thinking about you today. I think maybe G.o.d brought you here. I was worried about you. I prayed for you. Every night."

He doesn't respond, but I know he's listening.

"Why don't we go to the library tomorrow? We can ask Mrs Fontaine if we can borrow some books to bring here. I can read to you if you like?"

We reach the spare room and I open the door. I turn on the light and turn down the bed. "Stay here, okay? I just need to get you something dry to wear to bed."

I quickly grab a few items of Bob's clothes that will swim on Tomas, but it's the best I can do right now. When I enter the bedroom, I pause mid-step. Tomas is in bed, fast asleep, shoes on and all.

I smile and move closer to him. I take the blanket and cover him with it. I creep away as quietly as I can, turn off the light and pull the door closed, leaving only an inch open.

As I walk away, I find Bob yawning in the hall. I open my mouth to ask him one of the million questions I have, but he raises a hand pleadingly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, girl."