mk robinson wants to be a star. (hitjackpot) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-04-26 02:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | catwoman, mary jane watson |
WHO Wren & MK.
WHAT Calling each other out on some shit.
WHEN Yesterday.
WHERE The villa.
WARNING Wangst, cursing, etc. Nothing new for these girls.
It had been one of those nights. A night where the alcohol kept flowing and people kept smiling and cameras kept flashing and lips kept meeting other girls lips. A night of bad decisions upon bad decisions, but that was just every other night for MK, wasn’t it? By the time she stumbled home back to Caesars, the drinks pulsed through her veins, and she couldn’t think very much at all. The conversations she had over the journal and through her drunk texts hardly left an impact, not in the way they should have, but she did remember a few the next morning. Namely, her call with Adam and her promise to talk to Wren the next day. Scrolling through her phone while she laid in bed, still in the same dress from the night before, took care of the rest of the memories, and she rolled over with a groan. Great. All she wanted to do was lay in bed and sleep off the blistering headache and waves of nausea, but she knew she couldn’t ignore Wren or little Gus, not now. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Coffee in hand and sunglasses secured, MK went to a children’s clothes boutique on the Strip, and only received a couple of pointed glances when purchasing a rack of outfits for a little boy. “A friend back home’s kid’s birthday,” she explained to the girl at the register, hoping that would be enough of an explanation to placate her curious eyes. It wasn’t an outright lie, sort of, and the last thing she needed was some connection to a kid. Or at least the idea of one. She smiled, grabbed the bag of assorted shorts, pants, and t-shirts for Gus, and returned to the car she rented through the front desk at Caesar’s. On her way back to the villa, she make a few more quick stops for more coffee (her life line), food that a kid should like (chicken strips and the like), a child-friendly Lego construction set and a little stuffed dog toy to keep Gus busy, and a bottle of wine. She couldn’t drink with Wren, she knew that, but who knew how this conversation was going to go. Maybe she’d need to retreat to her room and drunk that bottle of Merlot until she forgot again. She strolled into the villa and beelined to the sitting room. “Wren? I’m here! I got you some coffee.” Clutching her cup of Starbucks, she left a second one for Wren on the table nearby and began putting the little staples of kid-friendly food in the kitchen. The bags of clothes laid on the couch, along with the toys, and she rustled around in the cabinets and fridge to make some lunch for the three of them. It was hot even in the sundress and her head was still pounding and her body was aching for a Bloody Mary instead of that second venti cup of coffee, but Gus was there, and she knew she couldn’t drink in front of the kid. Her parents did that, and she’d be damned if would let Gus see more bad things when he was already stressed enough. Wren had a migraine that wouldn’t quit. Sleep was still something she’d heard existed, but hadn’t experienced in days, and her stress level was through the roof. Her conversation with Silver had left her concerned and paranoid enough to spend an entire evening researching child custody laws and process, and she didn’t even think about how bad that would look if her computer was confiscated. She didn’t think, either, about MK buying an entire rack of children’s clothing for precisely the right gender and precisely the right size, or that would have sent her into a panic too. In the end, she still had no idea what to do, and she knew she needed to tell Luke about Silver’s phone call, but she was afraid Luke would panic, and then where would they be? What’s worse, she had an entire slate of clients starting at six pm, and Gus alternated between fits of tears and being perfectly content, and she couldn’t seem to predict one or the other. When MK called out, Wren was sitting in her room, watching the dog demolish a blanket fort, which seemed to be a very good thing indeed based on Gus’s reaction to the blankets crashing down on him. Petti was in her lap, seeking a reprieve from tiny hands that didn’t realize his ears weren’t for tugging, and Wren thought coffee sounded like heaven. She nudged the cat off her lap, and she told Gus she would be back, and then she wandered out to the sitting room in a dressing robe over sleep pants and a camisole. She thought, on the walk, about MK’s texts, about the pictures on her phone, and she rubbed at her face. One of these days, she thought, they would be normal and healthy and not completely broken like china dolls in a smashed cabinet. Maybe. If they ever managed to make it there. Wren saw the coffee first, and she took the cup gratefully before dropping down on the couch with heavy weariness. She glanced toward the door, which she was expecting to slam inward at any moment to admit a dozen policemen, and she reassured herself that it was locked and closed. She took a sip of the coffee, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch for a moment longer, just a moment. Then, with supreme effort, she set the coffee aside and began going through the clothing items in the bag. She smiled, because leave it to MK to buy designer clothing for someone who would grow out of everything in a month. “Stop that and get in here,” she called fondly, hearing MK’s rattling in the kitchen. MK hadn’t heard Wren moving into the sitting room, too preoccupied with wrestling up some food for the girls and the little boy. She had gotten through to microwaving some dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese, placing them carefully in a bowl that would best prevent a real mess, before hearing Wren call out to her. She laughed quietly and left the bowl on the counter before shuffling over to the couch. “The kid’s got lunch waiting, if he’s hungry. Stuff I remembered liking when I was his age.” As she came over, she pointed her own cup of coffee to the one in her friend’s hand. “Thought you might need it because I sure as fuck needed a couple cups today. Did you sleep much last night?” She sat down on the couch next the blond with a graceless flop, kicking off her flats at the same time, and looking at her friend with a tired smile. The make-up piled on covered up all the exhausted edge as best it could, but Wren could always tell. MK knew that. “I tried to pick out things he’d like,” she said, pulling a t-shirt out of the bag and into her lap, fingers brushing the expensive cotton fabric. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea to get a four year old designer duds, but MK, as panicked she was about the whole thing, was determined to make the kid as happy as possible. “I think the girl at the boutique thought I’m adopting soon or something.” She sounded amused at that idea because anyone with common sense would know how awful she was with kids. “I didn’t sleep at all,” Wren admitted, “unless a few minutes here and there count.” She considered calling Gus out to eat, but he’d managed to finish off her honey-milk and toast that morning, and he wasn’t crying just then, and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to put off lunch for a few minutes. After all, whatever was waiting might not be what he was accustomed to, and that might bring on a fresh onslaught of tears. She knew she was just trying to prevent failure by avoidance, but it couldn’t hurt for a few more minutes. She took a long sip of the coffee, and she looked MK over, seeking out the familiar signs of exhaustion, of a night spent with too much drinking, and then beyond to whatever MK did such a good job hiding beneath it all. After a second, Wren reached out her fingers and tucked a long strand of red hair behind her friend’s ear. “You didn’t sleep either. Okay, I think we agree to one session of lecturing, just one, starting now,” she suggested. As she waited for MK to agree or counter, Wren pulled out a tiny pair of cream colored overalls from one of the bags, and she ran her fingers over the exquisite fabric. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything. I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said, and she pushed back the worry that MK, the famous model, buying baby clothes wasn’t ever going to go unnoticed. It would be all over the tabloids by the afternoon, and there would be clips online. The conversation with Silver had made her aware of just how many loose ends there were floating around, and she was starting to worry MK was going to end up implicated in all of this; she wasn’t sure her friend could handle any time in jail, not at all, and she steeled herself for an internet search regarding her supposed “accomplice” to see if there was anything there that pointed to the famous model who was seen buying baby clothes. But she put a smile back on, even if it was a worried one, and she tugged out a tiny t-shirt. “He’s so small,” she said without thinking, because how were they supposed to take care of anything so tiny? When Wren reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, MK smiled a little warmer. The affectionate touches always got to her, especially with Wren. It reminded her of times when they were all the comfort she needed, those touches from a girl just as broken as her, and in that alone, that offered her comfort then. If the world shattered around them, crashed mercilessly like the Armageddon, Wren would be there with her always if she allowed it. Sighing, she took another sip from her coffee, turning to the bag again. “Lecturing, yeah,” she mumbled, not fond of the idea of being lectured at all. Now, chiding Wren for what she did, that seemed perfectly fine. She pulled a face and rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’d do the same for me, if I fell into the same situation.” Or, at least she hoped. Reaching forward, she squeezed Wren’s fingers for a second before returning them to the comfort of her warm coffee cup where they drummed a rhythmless beat for a moment. Nerves, or concern. Whatever that was. She glanced down at the bag again, pulling out a pair of brick red shorts and folding them in her lap. “I’d say I don’t remember being that small, but let’s be honest, I’m not much bigger still. He’s beautiful though, Wren. He’s Luke’s goddamn twin, but he’s got your eyes.” She glanced over to her friend and flashed her a warm smile before thoughts of that day tugged down on her lip, but she didn’t dare say how she’d had to pull over to the side of the road to compose herself that day or see Adam to quell the panic wracking her body. Wren couldn’t help but smile at how unimpressed MK sounded at the idea of lectures. “I don’t think there’s anyone else I could take being lectured by, at least without getting defensive. If we can’t tell each other when we’re being really, really stupid, then who can?” she asked, and it was so much like when they were young. Whenever she remembered those days, she remembered a much cheaper couch, and some much cheaper wine, and two boys. One of them was dead, one of those boys, and the other one was - well, she wasn’t sure what had happened to Luke in all those years between then and now, not yet. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed MK’s cheek, and then she sat back again and picked up her coffee cup. Wren wasn’t as good at affection as she’d learned to be under MK’s careful tutelage, but the memory of it was still there. “I would do anything for you,” Wren said truthfully. Things had changed, and they were older and so much more broken than they had been then, but that hadn’t changed. “I didn’t actually know he was Luke’s until a few years ago, when I saw him. But it’s pretty obvious, yeah,” she said with a sad smile, because everything had gone so wrong, and she knew it. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You first,” she suggested, because she was worried MK would get up and walk out otherwise. What Wren had to say, she knew MK wasn’t going to like hearing. Better to let the redhead yell first. She noticed the way MK’s lips turned down, but she didn’t know why yet; she was hoping that would come with whatever MK had to say next. MK laughed at that, nodding at the truth in all of it. There was no one who could really chastise MK the way Wren could get away with. Others were pushed and shoved away, brushed off like nothing mattered, but the redhead always gave her friend more leeway. Not that she actually listened to everything, of course, because that would be preposterous. As much as she liked to dish out advice and cute little pointers, MK was one of the worst people try to advise. She always had been. But Wren could try, at the very least, and the redhead smiled at the kiss to her cheek. She rolled her eyes again, upset that she would have to play the bad guy first. MK would try not to yell, not while Gus was in the suite; as big as it was, she knew the feeling of listening to adults argue. The memory was stained in the recesses of her brain like a tattoo, and she sure as fuck would try her hardest to suppress that. “I don’t regret it, Wren, of course. Not at all, especially after I saw all those bruises. I know what it’s like growing up in a house like that, and fuck, I never want a kid to go through what I went through.” She sighed, rubbing her face before taking another sip from her coffee. It should be wine, she pondered, because that would make all of this easier. It always would. “But I...well, I totally fucking freaked, kitten. Couldn’t drive home without pulling over to catch my breath. Puked once I got back here. I only went out because it was the smart thing to do. To cover me up. But I couldn’t even do that, not really, and I had to go see Adam because I couldn’t be here alone.” Biting her lip, she put down her coffee for a moment, fingering the soft fabric of the clothes in her lap. MK didn’t want to guilt Wren. That was never it, but this was about honesty, right? She looked away from the blond then, irritation bubbling quickly, and before she could stop herself, she snapped. “I fucking can’t believe you didn’t even think about it, Wren. You always thought about it back in Seattle.” Wren listened to MK’s reasonings for helping, and they all made sense. She knew MK’s home life had been brutal, and she should have realized seeing the bruises on Gus would only make MK think of that time, of how scared she’d been as a little girl. Wren squeezed her friend’s hand, and she forced herself not to interrupt during MK’s confession of how badly she’d freaked out. Wren knew MK hadn’t handled it well. She knew the second she’d had to nearly crawl into the backseat with Gus and the redhead, when they’d been in clear view of the street, when both of them had been equally shaken (MK and the little boy). She’d known, but she hadn’t known how bad it had been after, when MK had left. “I shouldn’t have involved you, but I wasn’t thinking,” she admitted. “I didn’t think,” which is what it all added up to, she knew, after talking to Silver. “It wasn’t very smart of me,” she added quietly. Wren’s gaze lifted from where it had fallen, on her hands in her lap. “What didn’t I think about?” she asked, because it could be so many things. That the baby was Luke’s, that she shouldn’t have involved anyone, that she should have done this some other way. Whatever it was, she was sure MK was going be to be right, and that it would be hard to hear it, but it didn’t make her stop her friend from whatever the confession was. MK hadn’t realized how obviously shaken she was when she arrived at the duplex, but if Wren mentioned it, she wouldn’t deny it. It wasn’t just the guilt and panic crashing into her then, but the incessant crying of the little boy. Those big gray eyes welled with tears that tugged so desperately at MK’s heart. Little children crying always made her uncomfortable, always struck a chord she tried to repress, and she usually just removed herself from the situation. But she couldn’t, not then, not when Gus was freaking out just as badly as she was. She rolled her neck towards her friend and shot a pointed look. “Wren, really? You knew I would have done it anyway. I would have been fucking pissed if you didn’t tell me.” Scoffing then, she placed the clothes in her lap neatly back into the bag between the girls before continuing. “Where to start! No shit you didn’t think, Wren. There’ve got to be a billion fucking better ways to do this! Clearly, he’s being abused. I don’t know the whole story, I don’t know why he ended up with whatever pricks would do that to him, but you’re the mom. That’s gotta count for something!” Frustrated, she began to drum her fingers on her thighs now. “You fucked up big time, Wren. You know that. And running away, all those years ago, that was fucking up too. You know I would’ve helped you, even if no one else would. You fucking know that!” A pause permeated the conversation for a moment as she caught her breath again. “What happened? How’d this all happen?” Wren knew that pointed look was just a lead-in to whatever MK really wanted to say, and she took a long sip of the coffee to steel herself for the words that were sure to follow. She heard the scoff, and she watched the clothing get tucked away, and then MK’s voice climbed and it was all Wren could do not to interrupt her, because it was all true, and it was impossibly difficult to just sit there and hear it, even though that was the point of all this. “Being his mother isn’t going to count for anything when I’ve been arrested a dozen times for prostitution, and when I have a murder arrest, and when I hit naked men with a crop for a living,” she explained, keeping her voice down, despite MK’s volume. She didn’t want to start yelling over the redhead, which she was afraid she might do if she started really venting her spleen. “He’s four, MK. Even if I went the legal route, they would ask why I never came forward, and I’m pretty sure that’s a crime too,” she insisted, rubbing her temple. “I saw him at the pharmacy, saw the bruises, and I just wanted to get him out. I didn’t think beyond that.” As for running away all those years ago, Wren couldn’t keep her voice down then. “I left because I didn’t want Luke having to see Jude’s men in a child’s face for the rest of his life! You weren’t there, MK. You didn’t see what she did to him, you didn’t see the look on his face when he-” Here, she stopped, and she forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm down. She glanced toward the hall, but seeing nothing she assumed Gus hadn’t heard the yelling. She didn’t realize tiny ears could hear perfectly well. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it could all be explained. Why you didn’t come, why they have custody of him? There are ways to explain that, I’m pretty fucking sure of that. Do they actually have custody of him? If it’s one of those open adoption things, you could have seen him.” MK took a shuddering breath, having no idea, really, what she was talking about. She knew jackshit about adoption law, or of kidnapping. Wren had been the expert, at least on kidnapping, back in Seattle, and the redhead couldn’t help the little tiny of confusion that slipped through all that anger. “This isn’t Seattle, Wren, you can’t just snatch the kid out of the parents’ hands and hand them off to your merry fucking network of saviors. It doesn’t work that way! You know goddamn well that you probably could have buried these motherfuckers if they’re hitting him. The legal system is completely fucked, we both know that from way back when, but you’re disgustingly rich, Wren! You could have got yourself a star legal team who would have done this right. I don’t even care that I’m involved or that Luke’s involved now, that’s not the point. The point is that this kid -- your fucking kid -- is gonna get jerked around now because of how unbelievably dumb this all was.” She huffed a frustrated breath then, not entirely sure why she said everything she just had. And the mention of Luke, well, that made MK roll her eyes. “Please, Wren. You know Luke would have done anything for you if you fucking talked to him. You were that boy’s world. He’d move the motherfucking Earth for you. He’d have raised that fucking kid either way.” Forgotten was the restraint against the cursing and yelling. She was angry, and she squeezed her fingers into a fist to prevent them from shaking. “No, they have a birth certificate that says he’s theirs. He was born at home, and they had their doctor put their names on it, and they put me out on the street and moved. It took me two years to even find them here, MK, and they said they would claim I’d sold him, that it was child abandonment. I was nineteen, and I was sick, and I didn’t know any better. Who was going to believe me? Especially when I did intend to give him up. I changed my mind, but who was going to believe that? My word against theirs? Upstanding, religious rich people, versus a teenage hooker? Come on, MK. I was hooking when I was eight months pregnant. I had exactly no credibility. And the money and credibility I have now? I earned blackmailing someone and doing sex work.” She stood, because sitting still wasn’t an option anymore, and she paced. Her voice was still quieter than MK’s, but barely. “I could have informed CPS, yes, but I wouldn’t have gotten him back. Until Luke showed up in Las Vegas, there wasn’t any other option but to watch and wait, which I did, until I saw bruises.” But MK was still right. It had been unbelievably stupid, and now she was starting to just hope Silver could use whatever pull he had to ensure Luke got temporary custody. Maybe he could do that. Maybe he knew someone who could. If he didn’t, she had photos of a few of the key employees at CPS; she’d engineered that carefully over the past few years. It was turning into her only fallback, and it wasn’t even a fallback anymore; it was just a matter of time now, before she put it into motion. She stopped pacing at the mention of Luke. “You don’t understand,” he voice said softening. “I knew he would stick by me. I didn’t want him to have that memory hanging over him for the rest of his life. I wanted to spare him that.” And maybe MK couldn’t understand, because she hadn’t been there for Jude’s death, for the way Jude had taunted Luke about the men, for that terrible night in the basement. MK’s hand drifted to her head and pinched the bridge of her nose deeply as Wren retaliated, shooting up from the couch while the redhead tried to stay stock-still. “Well, I didn’t know that,” she said quietly, face still hidden behind her hand. “You didn’t tell me a fucking thing, Wren. You could have told me then. If...we were talking then, weren’t we? I would have dropped every fucking thing to be there to help you. I would have kept it from Luke if you really thought it was better. Which it wasn’t, by the way. That poor boy, he was fucking shattered after you left without so much as a goodbye.” She bit her lip. Wren probably knew that, probably suspected it at least, and MK tried to remember that she wasn’t going to be petty about it. “What the hell did you think was going to happen when you snatched the kid right from other those people’s fucking noses then? If you think you can’t get custody, why do you think this was okay? It’s not fair to him!” At this, she pointed down the hall towards Wren’s room, but didn’t look. Gus could be listening to their entire conversation, and she was blissfully unaware. “Getting the shit beat out of you is terrible, but so is the bouncing around. I did that, too.” She didn’t understand, not in the way Wren or Luke did, not in the way Wren wanted her too, and her look spoke of just that. Hurt and regret and worry for the both of them. “I get that, but he had a choice too, kitten. It’s all about sharing and caring and blah-dee-fucking-blah. He deserved to know either way, guilt or not.” “You didn’t tell me everything that happened after I left either,” Wren finally said, defensively, which might not have been the best thing to say. She calmed after that, because hearing all about how badly Luke had reacted was only making her feel worse. She sat on the coffee table, unaware of the tiny child in the hallway, the one listening to everything, and she turned her attention entirely on MK. “Okay. I messed up, and we both know that. I’m going to try to get Luke custody, because it’s the only option I have left now, she finally managed, rubbing her face and sounding entirely defeated. “Your turn,” Wren added, because she couldn’t take anymore, not just then, not in that moment, and since her comment about MK having kept secrets too had likely set a bad trend, she decided to just go with it. “You’re drinking too much, MK, and you’re better than this party girl that’s all over the tabloids. Don’t try to tell me you aren’t, because you are. I love you, and I hate seeing you hide all that hurt and pain behind a bottle and in the arms of people who don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.” She sighed. “You’re going to tell me that I don’t know how it feels, what you went through; you’re right. I have no idea, and I would probably have stopped living if it had been me. But you’re stronger than that, and you’re one of the most beautiful and caring people I have ever known, and you deserve better than this,” she said, reaching for the phone in the pocket of her robe and holding it up, a picture of MK and Dani kissing on the screen. Okay, that one stung, and MK shot her a look of mixed hurt and anger before standing up herself, ready and on the defense. How dare she bring that up, really, when Wren had been the one who bolted all those years ago. In MK’s mind, she was completely justified over not talking about her boy and how she lost him. Wren was too far away to fix it or to far to care. But before she could spin off her own venomous retort, Wren continued on. She opened her mouth again when she mentioned Luke getting custody. That didn’t seem entirely fair or smart to her either, but maybe that would strengthen Wren’s case, too. But Wren continued again, and as she did, MK clenched her fists even tighter at her side, eyes narrowing. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe what her best friend was implying. She wasn’t her parents. She had all this under perfect control. “You’re right, you don’t fucking understand. You don’t get a goddamn thing.” She paused, only able to breathe in and out shakily for a few beats. “If you’re worried I’m going to do it in front of him, don’t. I’m not that big of a moron.” She ignored the chiding that she was better than all that because A) she didn’t drink too much, and B) she wasn’t better than what everyone thought, at least in her opinion. She would be what everyone thought if they needed, but she didn’t see herself as better than anything. Even after all the years that had passed, she was still that broken little girl from Seattle. Not that she would admit that, of course. She wasn’t hiding her hurt in a bottle. As far as she cared, it wasn’t there at all. “This has nothing to do with Gus,” was Wren’s reply, and she was completely serious. She had told Luke she would talk to MK about drinking in the suite, but she would have done this, had this conversation, even without that. It was the pictures on the camera that had pushed the issue, not Gus’ presence. “It has to do with you, and with how much you’re drinking, and what you’re doing when you do drink.” Wren sighed. “I drink too much, and I do it when things get really hard, and I’m trying not to do it as much. But MK, you go out like that, and you’re going to get hurt. And don’t ignore the rest of the things I said because you’re angry at me. You’re better than this,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “I don’t understand, you’re right, but you’re still better than this, and that I do understand. If you don’t believe me, ask Luke, ask Roger. Anyone who loves you is going to agree with me.” Wren moved to stand in front of the other girl, though she expected MK to move away, but she tried anyway. “Gorgeous, hiding the hurt doesn’t make it go away. You have to deal with it someday, before it eats you up from the inside. I don’t want to see you get lost in all of this.” It was heartfelt, the tone of her words, and she very much wanted MK to listen, to hear, but she knew this conversation would likely end in MK storming out. She knew her friend’s drinking was that bad. “Don’t hate me for this. I don’t want to lose you, MK. I just want to help. Let me help?” She reached out a hand to tuck a strand of red behind MK’s ear, the move tentative. “Please?” MK was losing this argument, or at least losing the point of this argument. Wasn’t this supposed to go both ways? Startled by it all, she soaked in everything her friend was saying, seething about it all. How fucking dare she imply this? She wasn’t an alcoholic, she didn’t have a problem. She could stop any fucking time she wanted. The brush of Wren’s fingers behind her ears finally broke her out of the reverie, and she jerked her head back like the pale digits had just electrocuted her, swatting away the offending hand with her own. “I’m fine,” she snapped as she stepped back a little, crossing her arm in defense. “I don’t have a fucking problem, Wren, and I’m not gonna get hurt. I can stop anytime I want! I’m not my parents, I’m not them at all.” The look in MK’s eyes conveyed all the betrayal that her words couldn’t even muster, and she pointed at her as a challenge. “You’ve got no fucking idea what it’s like. You didn’t have your most important person taken away from you. You fucking chose to walk away. You chose to lose him! I didn’t have a choice! Go ahead though. Continue. What the fuck else do you think I’m doing wrong? My relationship with Adam? The fame? Go right the fuck ahead and lay it all out. This is the time, isn’t it?” She grew more and more angry by the word, cheeks flushed a deep red and green eyes narrowed thin as her voice exploded. Wren stepped back when MK jerked her head back and swatted at her, and the snapping and yelling that followed muffled the scared sound of little feet running down the hall. It didn’t, however, muffle Finch’s snarling in the hallway, and Wren rubbed her face. “He doesn’t like yelling,” she explained, not having actually told anyone the dog was there, and not associating his current antics with the little boy in the (she thought) bedroom. “Finch, go,” she said, not expecting him to listen. But, after one more warning bark, the dog backed down the hall, and Wren sighed and looked back at MK. “I love you, and I want to see you happy. That’s all, MK. Lecturing, remember?” she asked, because she was starting to wonder if this had just been another bad idea, one at the end of a long string of bad ideas. The yelling about the boy that was long dead only drove that truth home, and she was starting to realize she was going to have to call someone to check on MK after this talk - Adam, Simon, someone, and she didn’t even know who the best choice was anymore. But she was only making things worse, and she could tell that, and it broke her heart, the fact that she might have broken this too. “I’m sorry, MK,” she finally added, voice entirely devoid of anything anymore. “I only wanted to help. I only wanted you to be okay. That’s all.” MK barely registered the dog’s bark the first time, but the second caused her to jump for a second. “Finch, as in Luke’s Finch?” she asked stupidly, the intrusion of the dog’s protective noises distracting her enough for a moment to forget about the anger. She deflated momentarily, looking over Wren’s shoulder and seeing the dog retreat into the room, but quickly remembered why she was so upset when Wren spoke again. Sorrys wouldn’t help, wouldn’t mend the shattered girl standing there with her equally shattered friend, but MK refused to even attempt to let Wren try to stitch some of it up. “More like an attack,” she replied with a sneer, her whole tiny frame wobbling on her feet. She didn’t know why she agreed to do this. Things like this always ended up badly for her, always ended up with someone pointing out her flaws and cracks. “Whatever,” she continued after a moment of staring at Wren with all the brokenness the redhead had flickering through her eyes. She smirked then as she quickly blinked away angry tears. “I don’t need help, Wren. I’m just fine. Or too broken to be fixed. Whichever one suits you better. No need to glue what can’t be put back together.” She rounded the blond and moved towards the door, grabbing her keys and purse from a table nearby. “I’m going out. There’s toys for Gus in those bags somewhere, too, and a bottle of wine if you’d like to jump off that high fucking horse for a minute. I won’t come near the kid if I go out tonight, don’t worry.” Wren turned to go after her, but she couldn’t bring herself to catch MK’s arm, the movements too fast and unforgiving. “It was hard for me to listen to you too, MK,” she said, but it was too quiet to make any kind of real impact, and she was already trying to figure out who to call, who could patch it up best. As MK reached the door, Wren heard a noise down the hall. It was small, and it sounded like a sniffle at a distance, but she knew better. “Fuck,” she cursed and, seeing as Wren never cursed, it was pretty telling. She gave MK’s retreating back one last look, and then she turned for the hall, where Finch was already growling at her from the bedroom doorway. |