Peter Kelly (nylonghorn) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-06-11 20:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | jonathan harker, red riding hood |
Who: Boyd and Peter
What: He went to talk to her about Trenton, and got a little therapy too.
Where: Boyd's pad in Savannah, Georgia
When: After this
Status: Complete
Warnings: Subject matter, but pretty mild.
There were a few things that Peter hadn't been anticipating, one of them was that he'd be catching a plane to Savannah to interview Boyd. He felt terrible that she'd moved out and he hoped that this whole trial didn't have anything to do with it. He couldn't recall having met her, he knew of her but only through others, he hoped that she truly didn't mind his intrusion.
The plane ride was uneventful, he looked out the window most of the time, the only problem was that it afforded him way too much time to think. Think about Lena, think about this trial, think about his life and what had happened in the past year. Too much quiet wasn't good for Pete when he'd been running himself ragged trying to keep busy.
When he was finally on the ground in Savannah and picking up his rental car he was able to focus on other things, like what he was going to say to this woman. And what she might say to him. And the fact that it was shortly after 9 PM and the air was still sticky and hot. Pete loved the south. He loved everything about it, and while Texas was more "Southwest" than the actual South, the air reminded him of where he grew up and that was good enough for him. He even drove with the windows down all the way to her apartment.
When he arrived at the address Boyd had provided and he gathered his bag and his computer up before standing outside for a moment and taking a long deep breath, as moist as the air was it just reminded him of home. There were lightening bugs flying around, and even the cicadas were still talking. As he approached the old home she was living in he decided it was not only lovely but most definitely haunted, but that was a discussion for another day. He certainly wasn't there to discuss how Ghost Hunters would be all over the old home like white on rice.
He knocked on her door three times and hoped, once again, that his intrusion wasn't too big of an inconvenience.
Boyd was living upstairs in the old, renovated antebellum home. The woman who lived downstairs was quite a bit older, and she liked to talk about the South as if it was one long party full of suitors. It was safe, and it was quiet, this place Vlad had found for her; it suited her just fine, with its white washed walls and creaking floorboards and weeping willows outside the veranda - melancholy and sticky sweet.
When Peter knocked on the door, she'd just finished an impromptu piano lesson on an instrument that had been left behind; it was so old that it looked like it had come with the house (and really, it might have). Her music instructor was her downstairs neighbor's suitor, and he was in his seventies, and Boyd liked him immensely.
When she pulled the door open, the old man doffed his hat at Peter, and Boyd leaned against the door frame lazily (it was hard to be anything but lazy in the Savannah heat), her white-strapped sundress fluttering around her bare feet. "You that lawyer come from Bellum?" she asked, a shadow crossing her features at the mention of the building. It was a rhetorical question, but she waited for him to answer it anyway, and she looked him over while she waited. He was younger than she'd expected, Vlad's nemesis.
He nodded and waved his hand at the man, "Hi," he said to him and looked back to Boyd and smiled politely, "That would be me," he held his hand out for her to shake, "I'm Peter Kelly," he said in a friendly tone. "Thank you for having me, I'm sorry for showing up so late, flights don't seem to run on my schedule," he said for what would probably be the first of many shows of gratitude. Sure he'd gotten on a plane, but she'd invited him out of state to her home at a late hour to rehash something that he knew wasn't going to be that much fun to rehash.
She reached out a hand, slow and sweet, and she smiled at him in the same way. "It's nice to meet ya, Peter Kelly," she said, moving aside to let him into the apartment. It was decorated in pale pinks and soft blues and pure whites, and she had a pitcher of tea sitting out, the ice making the outside of the pitcher sweat. She motioned to the chairs by the open veranda windows, where wispy white curtains were dancing on the evening breeze. "I didn't think you'd really come. Defendin' that man is that important to you?" she asked, sliding into one of the chairs and tucking her legs beside her on the seat cushion.
He shook her hand and nodded, "It's nice to meet you too," he responded easily. Peter walked into the apartment and set his bag down. "I'll tell ya, I'm from the Gulf side of Texas and you don't realize how much you miss this weather until you're back in it," he said chuckling as he made his way toward an empty chair and sat down.
He did look at her curiously when she said she didn't think he'd come, "Ma'am I'm not defending him," he said seriously. "That isn't why I'm here, I'm here to make sure we get this done as right as rain and I'm here to keep my friends from getting themselves in over their heads. Things got out of hand with the way this was handled, and I'm trying to help them make things right," he said gently.
"I just..." he paused and shook his head a bit trying to find the words, "Everyone has someone they care about, some people have more than just someone, everyone deserves a good night of sleep, Boyd. And I want to make sure that nothing like this happens in that place again."
"Ainslie," she said, motioning to the seat opposite her. "You think lockin' Trenton up will help everyone get a good night's sleep, sugar? Cause there's more problems with that building than just Trenton," she said honestly, without any anger toward anyone in the tone of her voice. Being in Savannah for the past week, putting distance between herself and Bellum, it had also offered some clarity. "You're someone from Vlad's story, ain't ya?" she asked, reaching forward for a glass of sweet, cold tea and then holding it out to him.
"Believe me, I know," he sighed, "But there needs to be some kind of order," he said shrugging a bit. "And I want to help my friends because if they go off half cocked again it's going to just get worse. Everyone else will start going off half cocked at anyone who pisses them off."
He took the tea from her and took a long drink, "Good stuff," he said appreciatively. "It's a strange place, with a lot of dangerous folks, but also a lot of good folks. And it's our home, I just want to help people, that's all I ever wanted to do. If this is how I can do it, then this is what I'm going to do." He nodded at her next question, "Jonathan Harker," he said smiling a bit. It was all so insane, but it was getting easier to stomach now at least. "You?" he asked hoping he wasn't asking her to overshare.
She took her own glass of tea, and she smiled at him warmly. "That was real sweet; pretending you don't know who I am, that you ain't heard a million bad things about me around already," she said truthfully, taking a sip. "Little Red Riding Hood," she admitted, "though if memory serves I'll get replaced once I've moved out official." She was completely quiet a moment, and she looked out the large, open doors to the veranda. "I won't mind," she said thoughtfully. "Don't you ever wonder if it defines you, your story?" she asked a moment later, looking back at him.
He returned her smile almost immediately, though he did shake his head slightly to correct her first statement, "When I was little my Mama told me, and I quote, "Peter Kelly, you don't know no one 'til you've met them proper" I don't need to pretend, I don't know who you are. So far you're a sweet girl who was so willing to help in a bad situation that you let a lawyer you've never met show up on her doorstep an inconvenience you after the street lights are on. A lawyer who comes from the place you seem to be wanting to get far away from. That's what I know about you," he said easily and sincerely before he took another drink of the tea.
He nodded when she said who she was, and while he had heard things, he didn't spend much time listening to the outbursts of his fellow tenants. That was Lena's territory, she'd have told him if there was something important. He wondered if she would actually move out permanently, he wondered what would happen to her once she did. Her tale might be replaced, but what did that mean for her? He smiled softly and nodded, "All the time, every day ya know? I mean I think about my wife and if we were only ever together because we're supposed to be. And that thought bothers me a lot, I mean </i>a lot</i>," he chuckled a bit and sucked in a deep breath and let it out and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it, "And then I realize that my wife left me for Vlad, which is technically Mina leaving Jonathan for Dracula and that definitely didn't happen in the book. So...I think that some elements might define us, but it's no question that there's just a touch of free will there too." It was clearly a subject he'd given a lot of thought to.
She listened to his voice, which was somehow utterly calming, and she rested the cool glass against her forehead and then her cheek. "Well, the wolf didn't eat me neither, but maybe he did in a less literal sort of way," she said. "I ain't read your Dracula; I've only seen the movie," she admitted, "and in that Winona Ryder did love Gary Oldman. Who's to say the story written down's the true one?" she asked thoughtfully. "It's easier for us fairy tale folk to imagine that, I think, cause there's so many versions of everything to do with us. Little Red Riding Hood's changed a million times over. Maybe yours has too, and you just don't know it," she suggested, and it was obviously something she'd been thinking about lately.
She leaned back in her chair, and she tilted her head as she looked at him. "You're real pretty. Ain't there anyone else you're interested in?"
"Maybe we're all being too literal and we just ought to plug on as best we can with what we've been given," he said sighing. At her comment about having seen the movie Peter just smiled at her, he wasn't offended by her statement in the slightest but he did shrug, "You might be right," he said easily. "Maybe she's exactly where she's meant to be, it doesn't mean it feels especially good right now," he added still completely unashamed about admitting that he missed her. He missed her so much it hurt, but he still only ever wanted her to be happy.
He chuckled when she said he was pretty shaking his head at her question, "Not so much," he answered sighing. "I don't really consider myself on the market quite yet, not really ready to go there."
She looked down at her hands, and she smiled a little sadly. "If it makes you feel better, sugar, I know it don't matter a lick, what's meant to be, not when you love someone who don't love you back," she said, bluntly, but voice soft and kind. "Wanna know what I really think? I think we can break free and do whatever we want, fate or stories or buildings be damned. But we gotta want it real bad; bad enough to risk losing to get it," she said, and she put her glass down. "And you can't run like me."
She laughed a little then, a sad and knowing sound. "Ask me 'bout Trenton."
Peter agreed and smiled at her, "You're not wrong," he answered. Lena's happiness or not, Pete was still feeling a little bitter over the whole thing simply because he'd been hurt and he still loved her despite it all. He nodded when she asked if he wanted to know what she thought and he listened carefully and soaked it in. He wanted to know why she ran, but he didn't feel it was really his place to ask. "Do you think you'll come back?" he asked curiously.
He took another drink of his iced tea and pulled out a small recorder from his bag. "Can I record this?" he asked first off. "I want you to start by first telling me about Trenton, your relationship with him prior to the incident friendly or otherwise, then the events leading up to what happened, what the circumstances were. I want you to try and remember as much as you can, I might ask to stop and get clarification on a few things, if at any time you want to stop and take a break, let me know.
I'm sorry in advance if some of the questions I might ask seem a little personal, or rude, or like I'm playing devil's advocate, I understand that you're the harmed party here, and nothing would make me happier than not having to do this. But the defender is going to want to know the answers to these questions to make their case, and the most important thing, for me at least, is to make sure that the harmed parties get justice and to make sure that both sides of this case are heard fairly and deliberated on fairly. You're saying it was Trenton that took advantage of you, Aaron said it was Trenton that killed him, I believe you. I want everyone's voice to get heard."
He set the recorder down between them on the table and pushed the record button, "But first can I get you to state your name?" he said smiling at her, only hoping that he was helping to make this as easy as possible and not just making it all worse.
"Ainslie Singer, though most people call me Boyd," she said. "and I wanna come back, but I can't let myself. Ain't nothin' waiting there for me but heartache," she added sadly.
She stood, and she moved to the open window, belatedly nodding at his request to record the conversation. "I met Trenton last fall. I went up to his apartment, and we did drugs and we had sex. I don't remember much, and I don't know what he gave me. All I know if I left upset, but he didn't force me that time. I was upset about a man, and I took whatever he gave. I didn't see him again until recent, when I asked him for more drugs. I went up looking for something easy, and he shot me up with something else instead, but I ain't got no idea what. One thing led to another, and I told him to stop, that I didn't wanna lie with him. I pushed and yelled, but he didn't listen. He was high too though. He's always high on something, I think. He's got a dead brother hovers around him, and tons of demons. I remember everything going black, and then I guess he dumped me somewhere and Rose found me there and took me to the hospital."
She walked back to her chair, curled up on it again. "Sugar, I ain't sure locking him up is gonna do any good. He ain't no worse and no better than most of the people in Bellum. Broken dolls, every last one of us. Trenton, he's got problems need working through; he don't need trials and juries. And if he killed Aaron, I suspect it wasn't on purpose. Them two used to fight on the forums all the time - something about Aaron's brother, and recent Aaron had taking to being horrible mouthy." She sighed. "Go after the man who attacked the other two folks - Nicky and Ella. I got an e-mail address for him, but he wouldn't come out of hiding for me."
He understood where she was coming from, there had been plenty of times since Lena left that he wondered why he stayed. He could have gone anywhere or done anything else, he could have moved anywhere else. Though he had to wonder if he would miss it, if it was where he actually belonged, which didn't say much for his whole team free will theory.
He listened to her story and it made him a bit sick really, he was a hundred percent sure that the best defense Trenton had was that he was high out of his mind. In Peter's way of thinking it didn't matter, then again Peter didn't go around killing and raping people either. "Everyone has demons," he said easily, "And everyone has problems, Maybe trials and house arrest are all we have, it sounds like what the guy needs is help and hopefully we can do that too. But if he doesn't want to be helped, he can't get high and kill mouthy children and rape women as a way of dealing with his demons."
When she mentioned the man who attacked Nicky and Ella he raised his eyebrows, as far as he knew no one had anything, an email address was better than nothing. "If you have information about that I'd like to know as well," he said in earnest. "We aren't running a witch hunt on Trenton here, this isn't about an individual person. I have a vested interest in keeping everyone as safe as I can, I am aware that we have more than one issue to deal with, and they're all important."
He was a good man, this Peter, Boyd realized. It made her think of Vlad, and it made her wonder what Helena saw in him that was lacking in the man across from her. Peter was handsome, young, strong and kind. But Vlad was stronger. She reached across the space between them, and she squeezed his fingers. "You're a good man," she told him honestly, blue-gaze warm and kind. "You remember that once you're home. We just all ain't made right for one another, sugar."
Something about the way she spoke made him chew the inside of his lip and look away, he wasn't upset at all, well not at her. But something about how honest and forthcoming she'd been about the whole situation. He looked up at her and gave her a friendly smile and nodded, "I'm trying," he assured her. Maybe he was a good man, but he was obviously a shitty husband but he kept that thought to himself, "I keep hearing we finish last, but at least we finish, right?" he said putting on the brave face he'd gotten way too good at since Lena left.
"Don't look on it like that," she said with a soft smile that was older than her years. "It ain't about finishing; it's about being. You'll be fine again, even if you don't feel it right now. And you'll be fine with someone that loves you at your side," she said, because this man would hold onto someone when things got hard; she could tell. He wouldn't be the kind to run or hide or hurt, and that kind deserved a good life and a soft death in an old bed with a million grandbabies around him.
He nodded at her statement, "I'll see what I can do, for now it just sucks," he said giving her a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. He was still vaguely aware that he was recording this conversation, and in order to NOT be accused of altering he'd have to let everyone and their brother listen to this. Great. He cleared his throat, "Is there anything else you want to say about Trenton?" he asked before he moved to switch it off. He wasn't trying to change the subject or hurry her along by any means, but he also didn't want to publicize his personal life much longer either.
She shook her head, watching him reach for the recorder. "You do me a favor and you check on Daniel once you're back?" she asked him. "I'd ask you to check on Vlad, but I don't think you'd feel so inclined," she added, her smile friendly and warm, despite her words.
Once the recorder was off he smiled at her, "I'll gladly check on them both," he said, and he meant it. He had already asked Vlad for a favor, he was hardly concerned about making an ass out of himself. "Anything I should or shouldn't tell them?"
"Tell Vlad thanks, and tell Daniel a girl expects a post card back on occasion," she said, standing and holding both her hands out to him. She took his hands in her own, and she kissed his cheek, all slow and sweet, and then she stepped back. "Can' I give you something for him? For Daniel?" she asked, already moving to the cabinet against the wall and pulling out a postcard with an old, worn picture of the house on it, before it had been refurbished and painted white. "You go on and run home, and you make 'em not go too hard on Trenton on account of me." She smiled. "And you don't let anythin' get you down, you hear?"
He nodded and smiled when she kissed his cheek, she was a sweet girl, and like all the nice people he'd met at Bellum he felt bad that fate had put them into bad situations. "I'll do that," he said sincerely and took the postcard and tucked it safely into his bag before heading to the door. "I'll do my best darlin, you take care alright? And thanks again for having me," he said before he left.