Ariadne (building_dreams) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-07-09 19:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | ariadne, peggy carter |
WHO Andrew & Bee
WHAT Maren Fall-out
WHEN After Maren died.
WHERE Turnberry, Bee's apartment
WARNINGS None!
Even after Wayne left, Andrew stood in the abandoned drug lab with trembling hands and blood-soaked clothes. He looked down at Maren’s lifeless corpse with waves upon waves of nausea, wishing that somehow he could fix this. Bring her back to life, sever ties with her, anything that would just make the young girl alive again. He crouched down again in front of Maren’s body, knees wetting with her blood. She looked peaceful, if one ignored the hole blow through her head or the blood trickling down, with her eyes closed and her lungs void of breath. Peaceful, in the most twisted sense. He felt his stomach lurch and stumbled out of the lab quickly before bending over a patch of grass to release the bile. Before he could recover, however, or even wipe his mouth clean, the driver yanked his elbow and dragged him towards the car. Still bloodied, he arrived at Turnberry without fanfare. It was late enough that no one was milling around the entrance of the building, and the driver escorted him to one of the elevators, blocking the boy out of the doorman’s view. There was no way to explain away the blood if someone spotted him, but thankfully not a prying eye was around. The large man left Andrew at the entrance of the elevator, trusting him enough to simply go home and clean up the mess, and Andrew did press the button to his floor. But, instead of going to his apartment, he stopped one before. Knocking on the door, he prayed Bianca would be home. She was the only person who could talk him down right now, and though he didn’t want her to know, he needed someone to talk to more. He was a crazed vision with wild eyes and reddened clothes and paled skin, and he ran a free hand, still covered in Maren’s blood, through his curly hair, staining it with a shade matching his clothes. Bianca had been a busy bee, going non stop nearly all day. She’d stopped by Passages for a bit to let Ariadne explore Paris again and work on some new mazes, but they were finished by lunchtime. The girls worked very well together thankfully, though that probably had something to do with the lack of things for Ariadne to do and the multitude of things that Bee had to do. Today’s checklist involved grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning, getting a haircut, and cooking dinner. By the time she heard the knock on her door, she was dancing around her kitchen in shorts and a tank top, working on prep for a lamb shank she’d seen while grocery shopping. “One minute,” she called out as she finished chopping the carrot she was working on before going to open the door. It wasn’t unusual for people to stop by, whether it was Andrew, Mike when he forgot his key, or a neighbor just stopping by. Bee was always very friendly with just about everyone she came across and very open. Checking the peep hole was never something she’d been particularly good at and tonight was no exception. Therefore, the sight that greeted her was more than a shock. “Andrew?” she almost didn’t recognize him with how out of it he looked and she tugged him into the apartment without a second’s hesitation. Immediately, she was looking him over for the source of the blood. “Where are you hurt? Who did this to you?” Bee didn’t care that some blood transferred to her hands as she ran her fingers over him carefully, trying to ensure that he was okay. “What happened?” Worry filled every fiber of her being but she managed to keep her voice relatively calm. Immediately, he regretted coming to Bee’s. If there was one person in the world he wanted to save from all of this, it was her. If he could, he would have hidden it from her forever. He couldn’t afford to have her involved, and he especially couldn’t lose her. That was just not an option. Andrew ran another shaky hand through his hair before swatting Bee’s hands away pathetically. “Don’t touch it,” he snapped, locking eyes with her. “It’s not mine, don’t worry.” He tried to wipe away the blood from his hands, but it had dried by that point, so only faint stains smeared across his white shirt. “I don’t want it on you.” He still looked like he was going to pass out or vomit or both, and he had to lean against the wall to support himself when his knees nearly gave out. She glared at him when he tried to stop her from giving him a once over but she did actually stop when he said it wasn’t his. “Okay, come on,” Bee said, trying to stay calm even though she was more alarmed by the fact that the blood wasn’t his. A dozen questions flew through her mind, all of them more like a lawyer than a friend, so she kept them all to herself. Instead, she lead him further into the apartment, more toward the living space than the kitchen. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’re going to talk about this, okay?” She was worried about how pale he looked and she was right there, ready to help him walk if he needed. Her number one priority was making sure he was alright before she tried piecing together what the hell was going on. ‘ He pursed her lips when she glared at him and allowed her to guide him through her apartment towards her living room. Stripping off his blazer, he reached out to clasp onto her fingers desperately, unable to move of his own volition. “Okay,” he croaked, nodding numbly and avoiding eye contact. He knew Bee would have questions, tons of them, but he wasn’t ready to talk right now. Maren’s blood still clung to the fabric of his clothes, and he needed to rid himself of it. Rid himself of the reminders for the moment. Bee held onto him tightly, so afraid of what he’d gotten himself into. “I just did the laundry so I’ve got some fresh clothes for you,” she said, trying to be as reassuring as possible. “Do you want to take a shower first? I don’t mind. Please just...” She turned to face him, her hands going to cup his face. Andrew was never without a smile or a quip, always enjoying himself and always the one cheering her up, reminding her to loosen up and live a little. It wasn’t like she’d never been there for him but it was never anything like this. “Tell me what you need, what I can do.” Dinner could wait, hell anything could wait if Andrew needed her. He nearly tugged away from her hands, nauseous at any sort of human contact at the moment, but in the end he stood there. He felt impotent and utterly useless. Unhinged. And as he looked at her eyes all full of concern, he broke. Bottom lip wibbling, he let out a choked sob and stumbled forward into her arms, burying his face in her neck. Not mindful of the dark copper that could rub off of his clothes onto hers. No, he wound his arms around her and dug his fingers into her back like she was about to float away (or, really, that Wayne might just come and snatch her away, too). “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Andrew managed between tears, shaking his head and trembling. Her arms went around his neck, her own eyes watering as she held him close. The blood didn’t matter in the objective sense. It would wash out. She was absolutely worried about what happened to the other person, but all she could do was compartmentalize and deal with that later. “Shhh,” she soothed, trying to be as reassuring as possible. She shifted so that she could rub his back and time just ticked by. Bee didn’t know how long they stood there, but she would have held him for hours if that was what he needed. “I know you didn’t, sweetie. I know. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” She would do anything for him and she sure as hell wasn’t going to send him to jail. It was that one thought that made her realize just how much she loved him. She’d find a way to make sure whatever he’d done didn’t get traced back to him. “Everything’s going to be okay.” If she said it enough, it’d become true. He shook his head against her neck, not comforted by her words at all. Bee didn’t know what happened, so how could she say it would be okay? Nothing was going to be okay. “You don’t get it. It’s my fault she’s dead. He said it. That it’s my fault. That he wanted to teach me a lesson.” Still, he clung to her as if his life depended on it. As if her life depended on it. Which, he thought, it did. If Wayne could kill Maren, who really just made a mistake because of him, what would stop him from taking care of Bianca, too? The thought sent Andrew into another panic, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter. “We can’t let it happen to you, Bee. I can’t lose you, I can’t.” He was rambling, but he didn’t realize it. Everything made sense in his head. It was her turn to shake her head and she pulled back just enough to get him to look at her. Their noses were nearly touching and with anyone else, she probably would’ve been going to kiss the other person, but that wasn’t the kind of comfort Andrew needed. He would’ve gone to someone else if that was the case. She was trying to follow what he was saying but it only made her have more questions. He who? Who was the girl that died? Did he really think whoever it was would go after her too? “Tell me who, Andrew. Tell me who did it. It wasn’t you. I know you didn’t kill her. You couldn’t.” She let that sit for a few seconds as she tried to think of who would possibly care that they were friends. She still didn’t think that anyone would hurt her but if he needed the reassurance, Bianca wouldn’t hesitate to give it. “No one’s going to hurt me, sweetie. I promise, I’m not going to leave you.” She was near tears now, unable to handle picturing him at her funeral or vice versa. “We’ll get through this.” He’d been this close to Bee before, both in a romantic (but totally wrong) and platonic way, but the lack of distance startled him in the moment. Quieted his tears, and he looked at her with bloodshot brown eyes still watery with tears. That she believed he could never do something like that brought another stifled sob, though. “No, I have,” Andrew said, shaking his head and pushing himself away from her finally. “I have, and I’m a terrible person, and I’ve gotten her killed because of my mistake.” Swallowing hard, he tried to steady himself, tried to straightened his panicked thoughts. “Granddad. He did it. He did it because I let her mess up, it’s my fault.” Thinking of the consequences of Bee knowing about what his family did, he ran a shaky hand over his face. He shouldn’t have said that, not then. Not ever. Bianca couldn’t know what happened behind closed doors of the Mumford family, but now she was in the line of fire. No. He was wrong, lying, saying something to distract her from the truth. How could he have killed someone? And more importantly, how had she not known about it?!?! They told each other everything, even the bad stuff. Bianca stepped away from her, wrapping her arms around her middle as she tried to make sense of it. It was only for a few seconds but it felt like a lifetime as she came to a few quick conclusions. First, Wayne Mumford was a horrible, evil as fuck person who deserved to burn here before burning in hell. Second, Andrew didn’t deserve any of this and she would do anything to make this better. Third, and most importantly, it wasn’t Andrew’s fault. “No. Andrew, it’s not your fault. Whatever you did in the past, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. It’s him. He’s done this to you and it’s not your fault. I swear. It’s not.” She moved back to him and slipped her arms back around his neck. “We’re going to get through this. You are not terrible. I wouldn’t be your best friend if you were. And you know how I know you’re not a terrible person?” Bee made him look at her then. “Because you’re upset. You care. That’s how I know.” Her reaction was enough to make Andrew blanch in fear. He knew he shouldn’t have told her. Best friends or not, he had killed someone and witnessed countless other deaths. Had orchestrated enough crimes to land him in jail for life a hundred times over. Bianca was studying to be a lawyer; shouldn’t some sense of morals lead her to turn him in? “Caring didn’t help Maren. Caring didn’t keep her alive,” he snapped, moving out of her arms. He didn’t want her touching him, not now. It made him nauseous. “Caring got her killed, Bee, don’t you get it? I’m a Mumford; I’m not supposed to care about people. It makes things complicated. Makes people die.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “She made a mistake. Nearly got caught. But it was my fault, Bee. I was the one that gave her the assignment. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have liked her, otherwise maybe she’d be alive.” She let him go but she was never more than a foot or two away from her best friend. It just wasn’t in her nature to let him hurt alone. The name was filed away for more rational conversations, knowing the girl was important. “You are not defined by your name, Andrew. Your grandfather did this to you. That person you killed, it was because of him, wasn’t it? Anything you did, all of it, it was him. You wouldn’t hurt anyone like that on your own. I know you. Don’t let him turn you into him. Caring keeps you human, keeps you from turning into that man.” There was an intensity in her eyes and her words, the kind of intensity that would serve her well as a lawyer. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer and she would make him realize that it wasn’t his fault. “Andrew, please.” Bee reached for him again, unaware of the slight traces of blood that had transferred onto her from their previous holds. “Just get cleaned up, at least change out of these clothes.” She wasn’t above begging if that was what it would take to get him to just take a minute. Andrew shook his head violently, curls unruly and bouncing to and fro. It was in his blood, that was what Wayne liked to emphasize. He, Andrew, was a Mumford, and he was supposed to act a certain way. Do certain things. “I’m already like him, Bee. I’m his grandson, it’s in our blood.” Of that, he was certain, but he also knew Bee wouldn’t agree. So, instead of continuing to argue, his shoulders slumped, and he didn’t dodge her touch. He let her try to comfort her for her own sake, even her words fell on deaf ears. Finally, he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “I-I’ll go get cleaned up. Sorry about ruining your dinner.” He waved his hand towards the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You change, too.” He gave her a long look, one with sad, stressed eyes, and turned around to walk out without another word. |