Who: Wren and Luke What: Going to get Gus (1/2) Where: The airport → NY When: Recently Warnings/Rating: None
Two layovers in, and Wren wished she and Luke had enough money to fly to New York on the same flight. Another layover later, and she wished they had enough money to fly First Class. It was no secret that she'd always wanted to be wealthy. In Seattle, before Luke, her entire goal in life had been to become the mistress of some wealthy man that would keep her in the lap of luxury. That hadn't ever panned out, but she'd found her own way to wealth in Las Vegas. And, while she wouldn't blackmail anyone to do it again, there were days when she wished they had a little more than they did.
This was one of those days.
She'd spent the majority of the previous day looking for a new job, only to find the door closed in her face nearly everywhere. Even in a place like Las Vegas, things were hard for someone with as many arrests as she had. A job at a strip club was easy, but something handling money or dealing with people while wearing clothing, that was harder. In the end, Roxy's in the Stratosphere was willing to give her a try at the tune of $2.13 an hour, even with her history. In the end, beggars couldn't be choosers.
She'd canceled her appointments, and she'd taken the job.
She was nervous about New York. Nervous that Gus wouldn't want to come back, or that he would look happier than he ever had with them. It had been a month, and he was small, and she knew they forgot quickly at that age. She imagined him in a huge house with a nanny, a cook, and someone his own age to play with. She imagined him happy. And, as much as she hated Thomas Brandon, she knew he would be good with Gus. Thomas, despite all his shortcomings, had adored Luke in his own way. And Gus, as small as he was, looked just like a tiny version of his father. At the very least, she was hoping this visit would help smooth things over there, even if Gus didn't want to come home with them in the end.
And, of course, there existed the simple truth that Gus would have a better life with Thomas than with them. No one could argue that, not when Thomas had all the money in the world to give a child, and when he had stability that she and Luke could never, ever offer. Even if things with the hotel calmed down, things in their lives were far from calm and normal. She knew that, even if Luke didn't like to admit it.
But none of that changed the fact that she was hoping that Gus would want to come, that he'd missed them. And she wanted to see him so much that it hurt. A month was a really long time - a fact she was downplaying that for Luke's sake - and it made her unbelievably sad to be away from the little boy for that long. Maybe it was good practice, but that didn't mean she liked it; she didn't like it at all.
But she wanted to see Luke just as badly and, by the time the last flight landed in New York, she was jitters and nerves for a completely different reason. They hadn't been themselves in Gotham and, despite Luke's reassurances, she was worried things would be different between them now.
She waited at the far end of the huge baggage claim terminal, unable to see clear to the other end, and wondering if Luke would be able to find her. She was dressed in a pair of cream, designer slacks and woolen sweater in pure white. Both items were designer, from when she could afford that extravagance, and there was an equally decadent white wool coat draped over her arm. Her pale hair was twisted in a knot, and her stilettos were camel, and she looked nothing at all like the Cat she'd pretended to be for a month. Nervously, she twisted the wedding band that was back on her finger, and she watched the bags on the conveyor belt, waiting for her own.
Luke cared more about the fact that he and Wren were on separate flights than he did what class he was in, or how many layovers he had to endure. Money was something he’d never placed much importance on, not for himself, and he only wished for it now because it would help Wren and Gus, as opposed to more selfish motivations. Funny how there was a time when he’d thought money would be the least of his worries, when he thought he would inherit a company one day and never want for anything. How quickly things could change. How quickly they fell apart, destroyed beyond repair. He wished he could graduate faster, he wished he’d done something with his business degree, he wished that he could make more money in general so Wren wouldn’t have to resort to waitressing jobs or taking clients who were little better than scum off the street or considering working for the CIA when they’d made their lives hell just months prior.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he felt like he cared more about Wren’s well-being than she did. He just wasn’t wired to be okay with her being objectified by men, or becoming some sort of pawn in political games far over his head, and he often wondered where the line between being concerned and being controlling was, because he worried he was going to cross it unintentionally one of these days. He only wanted her to do something she wanted to do, but he had no idea what that was, and she didn’t seem to know either, so nothing was ever really accomplished. But things would get better. He still had his job at Caesars, and graduation was so close he could taste it-- as long as he didn’t disappear for another couple of weeks. Once he was on the force, he’d be making more money, and it would be a steady income, and maybe they wouldn’t have as much stress when it came to finances.
He was glad there was no residual Bruce from his time in Gotham, but in all honesty he wouldn’t have minded if some of the man’s enduring hope had stuck around.
His thoughts roamed far and wide on the plane, from MK and Adam to Max and Jack, and everyone in between, but most predominant were thoughts of his son, and how he would react to seeing his parents again after a month. He felt guilty even though their absence had been out of their control, and while Luke was better at denial, he too feared that Gus might not want to come back with them. He had visions of trying to drag the boy away while he kicked and screamed, of Thomas refusing to give him up, and it was the kind of fear he could taste on his tongue, which he hadn’t felt in so very long. The only person he loved as much as that little boy was Wren, and it would tear him apart to be separated from Gus, especially after having missed out on the first four years of his life; he couldn’t bear the thought of his son being raised by someone else, much less Thomas Brandon. He didn’t quite agree that Thomas could offer the boy a better life; money was no substitute for parents who loved him. It was no substitute for love at all, and while Thomas could give him a lot of things he and Wren couldn’t, Luke didn’t believe he was capable of loving a child like a child deserved to be loved. He wasn’t going to let his son grow into a cold, bitter man, not while he still had a say. Maybe their life wasn’t perfect, and maybe things weren’t always stable, but no one could love that little boy more than they could, and no one would give everything they had for him like they would.
Beneath the worry that Gus might not want to be with them anymore, there was a different sort of fear. Luke hadn’t been to New York in five years, since the day he left and never looked back, and needless to say the city held more bad memories than it did good. But what scared him the most was the prospect of seeing Thomas again, after all this time. It made him feel eighteen again, young and vulnerable, and he hated it. He expected the worst, yet he couldn’t help hoping for the best, and the conflict between the two only amplified the fear of rejection. It had nearly destroyed him once; he didn’t know if he could endure it again. As much as he loved Thomas, the hurt cut deep, and there was a great deal of hatred and anger that had never quite died, but only gone dormant instead, ready to rear its head again at a moment’s notice.
But when his flight landed in New York, Wren was the only thing on his mind. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d missed her, and even though he had seen her in Gotham, Luke felt like it had been much, much longer since he’d seen her. Really seen her, when it was them, without bits and pieces of Bruce and Selina tossed in. He hadn’t thought finding her would be too hard, but the baggage claim area was packed, with people milling about and waiting for their bags everywhere. He was clean shaven and clad in jeans (black), a pullover sweater (grey), minus a jacket, which didn’t exactly make him stand out, but he was hardly going to be deterred by a crowd. He kept an eye out for his bags while he deftly wove through the throng of people, searching the sea of faces for one familiar one, and he found his luggage--one small suitcase and a carry on bag--first.
He swore he’d been from one end to the other before he finally spotted her, cream and white surrounded by dull, drab colors, and he couldn’t help wondering if her choice in clothing was intentional. With a bag slung over his shoulder and his luggage being pulled behind him, Luke’s approach wasn’t exactly subtle, but he came up from behind her regardless and spoke close to her ear. “Hi.”
By the time Wren heard his voice at her ear, she'd found her one bag, and she'd started to worry that he wouldn't be able to find her at all amid the crowd. Nerves getting the best of her, she didn't hear him approach, even if he wasn't stealthy. When he spoke close to her ear, she held her breath, and she gasped a little, but she didn't turn immediately. For a second, she just stood there and listened, trying to hear him breathe over the crowd, trying to feel him close to her back, without him touching her or her touching him. A second, and then she took the tiniest of steps back, one of her heels bumping against the toe of his shoe. Just that one tiny step, and she could feel him at her back then, solid and real. Still, she didn't turn, though she let the coat that was draped over her arm fall down onto her luggage, and she reached back with her free hand and touched the sleeve of his sweater at the wrist. Her fingers closed around the knit, and they rubbed against the threads, and she tried to place the item from his closet just by touch, without looking. "Hi," she finally said, and her hand slid down to his palm, and her fingers brushed over the sensitive skin there. "Did you have a nice flight?" she asked, correcting a moment later. "Flights." Her fingers twined with his, and even with the crowd jostled them, she didn't turn.
By then, maybe, it was obvious that she wasn't going to immediately. She realized he might think it strange, that he might not understand, but she figured he didn't understand a lot of the strange things she did by then. She just wanted to savor it, really. Him being there, and them being them again. She had her own terrible memories of New York, and she needed this, these few minutes of just being in the same place as him. She would turn around in a minute, and then they'd be all that much closer to leaving the airport and going into the city. And the city meant Gus, and it meant Thomas, and it meant being in the place that had torn them apart once before. She'd thought about it on the plane, about whether or not she wanted to go see they place they'd lived then. She thought it might be good to see how far they'd come, but she worried about the bad memories too.
That worry made her take another step back, and now they were close enough that only the crowded busyness of the airport kept them from drawing attention. As it was, everyone rushed past, as if nothing was happening. There was no place in the world like New York for managing to feel completely alone in a crowd. She leaned back against him, her back to his chest, and she could feel him breathing against her now. She closed her eyes, and she tugged the fingers that were laced with hers, pulling his arm across her waist and letting his hand rest there. She freed her own hand, and she reached up and traced his jaw with her fingertips. "Hi," she repeated, her fingers brushing against his lips. She almost turned then, because the simple touch made her want to kiss him. The movement translated into a tensing of muscles, and the obvious effort it took to stop was evident against his body. "Are you scared?" she asked instead of turning, quiet, only just audible of the din of the crowd.
Luke couldn’t help smiling when she gasped, and though it would have been easy to touch her or turn her around to face him, he did neither, choosing to wait and see what she did first. They were surrounded by people, but he didn’t care; they might as well have been alone for all the attention he paid to the crowd. There was a slight, almost imperceptible hitch in his breathing when her fingers brushed over his palm, and he nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see. “Yeah,” he said, giving their entwined fingers a tight squeeze. “It was okay. They were okay. Would’ve been better if you were there. What about yours?” He expected her to turn around at some point, even if he didn’t understand why she was waiting, but he accepted that some of the things she did didn’t exactly make sense to him, and that was fine.
For once, he was glad that no one noticed them. Loneliness was easy in a crowd, but there was a time when he’d liked the anonymity of blending in, and right then he didn’t want to be stared at by strangers. He sighed when her back met his chest, the sound all warm contentment, and he let her pull his arm across her waist without resistance and kept it there. After a second, once he’d let go of his luggage, he slipped his other arm around her waist, his hold firm and sure as she traced his jaw. “Hi again,” he said, laughter in his voice, and he liked the tension he felt in her body, indicative of her effort to keep from turning around. He was usually the one who went tense and had a hard time holding back, and so it was different to have their roles temporarily reversed. “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, after a long pause, low and hushed. “Are you?”
"I missed you," she said of her own flights. It wasn't an answer to his question exactly, but then maybe it was. She wasn't sure if she imagined that almost nothing hitch of breath on his part, or if it really happened, but she liked the former better than the latter, and she sighed a little. "It sounds silly, but I think maybe I forget how to breathe when you're not around, only I don't realize it until I'm near you again," she said as her fingers found his wedding band and brushed against the metal. And however silly it was to say that she couldn't breathe right without him, it didn't change the fact that it was true. There was something about being near him that made everything seem like it might be okay. And she knew they'd seen each other a few times in Gotham, but it still felt like a month apart just then. And there were things she wanted to say, to tell him, but none of them felt as important as being there, with him, against him.
That sigh against her back was tangible enough that she didn't need to wonder if she'd imagined it, and it made her smile a soft smile. "I don't ever want to stop having that effect on you," she admitted, though it sounded like a terribly selfish thing to voice. Maybe it was a little bit of Selina left over, or maybe it was the honesty that the Pit had left behind in her veins. Whatever made her say it didn't change the fact that it was true. She loved the feel of his arms around her, and it made her loathe to move. She wanted to memorize that laugh of his, keep it in her pocket where she could pull it out whenever things were bad. She almost told him so, but then he confessed to being scared, and turning around suddenly became the only important thing. She managed it without dislodging his arms from around her. She looked up at him, a slow, slow look at his face, her grey gaze slow and hurried. "Really scared," she admitted.
While he would always hate being apart from her, regardless of the reason, Luke couldn’t imagine ever tiring of hearing her say she’d missed him. “I missed you too,” he whispered, holding her just a little closer, after a month of feeling like she’d been constantly slipping through his fingers. Her not being able to breathe right without him reminded him of when they were teenagers, before things had gone downhill in New York, and he smiled again, this one touched with a hint of wistfulness. “We’d better make sure you and I stay close together from now on, then,” he teased. “Breathing is important.” All teasing aside, he understood how she felt. Maybe it was unhealthy to need someone as much as he needed her, but he never felt right when he was apart from her, which was the main reason why he hadn’t actually wanted to stay in Gotham; he hadn’t had her there, not really, and he didn’t want to live like that. He couldn’t.
He laughed when she said she didn’t want to stop having that effect on him, though it was something more felt than heard. “I don’t think you could stop, even if you tried,” he told her, voice fond. They had to move eventually, he knew that, to pick up their luggage and venture into the city, but he was content to stay as they were for the moment. It felt like they were at an in-between point, where a certain amount of calm and neutrality could be found, whereas home wasn’t exactly problem-free and what lay before them wasn’t going to be easy either. He looked down at her when she turned around, his gaze turning warm and finally being allowed to see her properly, and he slid his hands beneath her sweater when she admitted to being scared. It was subtle, the splay of his fingers hidden by the fabric, but he wanted to touch her and this was the most he could manage in such a public place. “It’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure if it would be, but he would say anything he had to in order to reassure her even a little. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated, quieter, and his gaze dropped to her mouth a second or two before he leaned in to kiss her.
His teasing earned him a slap to his hand, but by the time she was facing him, that hardly mattered. She forgot all about how she was going to lecture him not to mock her inability to breathe, because it was liking seeing him for the first time in forever. She took a deep breath when his fingers slid beneath the sweater, and she closed her eyes and let herself feel weapon callouses on his fingertips. It took concentration, but she could feel the catches against her skin if she tried hard enough. It helped ground her and, by the time he was telling her that it was okay, she was breathing a little more normally again. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that they'd come so very far that there was nothing that could mess things up now. And, a little, she almost did believe that. But not entirely, not yet, and she had the feeling that this trip was going to be a really hard one for lots of reasons. And maybe she was blatantly trying to drag out this interlude, this between, because when he leaned down to kiss her, she pressed against him and kept the kiss slow and unrushed, an intentional brush of lips that was teasing and promising, but that didn't come with any impatience. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, where they twisted in the fabric of his sweater, her fingers twisting the wool in the same way Gus did with his own clothing when he was nervous.
She didn't break the kiss, really. She kissed the corner of his mouth, and then she kissed his jaw, and she sighed against the spot just beneath his ear. The heels made her taller than she normally was, and it was easy to slide her fingers from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, and it was easy to hide there, in the crook of his shoulder, where there was nothing but him. Her voice, when she spoke, muffled, and a little hard to hear despite the closeness. "What if he doesn't want to see us?" she asked, voicing her foremost fear. There were other concerns, logical ones, including the fact that they didn't have money for anywhere to stay, that their cards were maxed after she'd paid off the bills that had gone neglected, that Thomas might not let Gus go. All of those things mattered, but not as much as what Gus wanted, and what if what Gus wanted wasn't them? It was a far cry from what she'd said in Gotham, when it was easier to consider letting go. Selina didn't actually have anything tying her down, and it had been easier to consider letting those ties go then, when she was filling in. Now it was terrifying, and while she was really, really trying to be unselfish, to do what was best, she was still scared that the little boy would tell them how much he hated them for what his life had been. And, really, that was her fear; she was the one who'd done that to him, not Luke.
He laughed when she slapped his hand, yet another snapshot of time when life seemed, however briefly, carefree and stable and free of the daily struggles that seemed to follow them wherever they went. Moments like these made the bad times worth it, and Luke had a great deal of faith in their relationship despite not having much faith in anything else. He knew, too, that he probably believed that they could withstand more than she did, but he’d always been less inclined to doubt and fear. It was just part of who she was, and he knew that. Sometimes her insecurity was hard to deal with, but by this point he’d accepted it and he would never hold something so deeply ingrained in her nature against her or blame her for it. This trip wouldn’t be easy, but he hoped that Gus would want to come back with them, and he hoped they could return to Vegas as a family, as opposed to broken and in shambles. He would do everything in his power to assure the former rather than the latter. Slow and unhurried worked for him just then, and so he didn’t try to rush the kiss, and there was no impatience in the way his fingers pressed into her skin or his mouth opened hers, deepening the kiss but keeping the pace slow and steady. There was no sense of urgency, and right then he just wanted to savor this, her, for as long as he could.
The kiss was eased out of more so than broken, and tipped his head against hers when she sighed against his ear. They were still, two solid bodies in a sea of movement, and somehow it made him feel safe instead of exposed. Her question made him pause, a silent catch in his breathing the only indication that he shared her fears, and in all honesty, he had no idea what they’d do if Gus didn’t want to go with them. He hoped, of course, that the little boy did, but if he didn’t... he wasn’t sure which would be worse; leaving Gus behind, or forcing him to go with them despite what he wanted. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But he will, Wren. He’ll want to see us. He’ll have missed us like we missed him. I know he’s young, but he can’t-- he won’t prefer Thomas over us.” That would hurt the most, he thought, to have his son want to stay with the man who’d failed at being the father he should have been, who hadn’t been there when Luke had needed him the most. He hadn’t really thought about hotels or money, but he figured they would make do, as they always did, and Thomas refusing to give Gus up was something he didn’t even want to consider. Luke had custody, but Thomas had wealth and power and influence, things he lacked severely. He would fight, of course, but if Thomas chose to resist then it wouldn’t be much of a battle in the end.
“He’ll want to see us,” he said again, more confident this time, pulling back just a little in an attempt to get her to look at him.
His admission scared her, the fact that he didn't immediately counter her fear that their son wouldn't want to come home. For the first time, she wished for a different set of friends, and she wished for real family. If they had those things, then the hotel wouldn't be so hard to deal with. If they had those things, then someone would be around for Gus, even when things were hard. She had more faith in Thomas as a grandparent than Luke did, and she had absolutely no concerns that her son was being taken care of, but he was across the country and a world away. And Thierry didn't count, couldn't count. She could still remember what he'd said about fear being charming, and she couldn't chalk that all up to Crane. He'd managed to control all of his other Cranesque tendencies during the stay in Gotham, but that one thing had remained, and it made Wren shiver to think about it. That, and the fact that Thierry had asked Luke to become an accessory to a girl's murder, made Thierry unacceptable. Wren wasn't very forgiving, and she wouldn't ever trust Thierry with her child now. Luke might strike up a renewed friendship with the man - no, Luke probably would, since he was much more forgiving than she was - but Wren wouldn't forget. No, this situation with Gus just left her wishing for things they didn't have. Jack was wonderful, but he was so broken that Wren didn't even know how he kept himself upright most days. And MK, MK was a beautiful disaster, and it made Wren so very sad to think about her best friend. The only person left was Evie. Dependable, sweet Evie. But Evie had her own family starting, and Wren was left in the same place she'd been when her musings began.
Then Luke began reassuring her that Gus would want to see them and, oh, she wanted to believe him so badly. "I think I give Thomas more credit than you do," she admitted, though it was a quiet and careful admission; she knew the subject was a sore one, just like she knew that Thomas had never liked her. And she hated him, really, but she trusted him to do this one thing right.
Her fingers combed through the ends of his hair, fingernails lightly scratching against his skin. "What if it's better for him?" she asked of Gus. And it was a hard question to ask, but she wanted to ask it. At what point would they realize they might be doing too much harm? Just then, she reconsidered all her promises about waitressing, about changing what she did. If she could get some of her old clients back, or if she could just get one or two really rich ones, then they could afford a nanny, maybe. Someone who lived at the house, someone who would be there if things went wrong. She had no idea how much something like that cost, but if she could manage it, wouldn't it be worth any cost? She pressed her fingers to his lips in an attempt to silence him before she spoke. "I took a waitressing job yesterday, but if it gets bad enough that we think it's affecting him, then I want you to be okay with me going back to work so that we can afford a nanny," she told him. Normal people couldn't afford nannies; that was just a fact that there was no getting around, but maybe they needed one.
There was a woeful lack of stability in their lives, that much was true. Luke valued his friends highly, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world, but even he had to admit that none of them were very suited for childcare. To make matters worse, they were all embroiled in the web of hotels and Doors and alters, so even if there was someone suitable, they couldn’t be fully relied upon should they all find themselves in their counterpart’s worlds once again. Roger was in D.C., which was too far, and Thomas was in New York, and he didn’t want to have to keep sending his son away whenever things got bad; the little boy deserved better than to be shipped back and forth once a month. But still, he refused to contemplate letting Thomas raise Gus permanently. That was very much a last resort, an act of such utter desperation that he wouldn’t even consider it seriously unless the situation became dire and they honestly had no other viable options. The fact that Wren was willing to consider Thomas as a permanent guardian was evidence enough that she had more faith in him than Luke did, which was admittedly a little confusing considering that there was no love lost between the two, but Gus was just a child, innocent, and maybe she thought he would treat the boy differently than he’d treated the two of them. And maybe she was right. Luke did trust Thomas enough to watch his son temporarily, to ensure he was safe and taken care of, but he didn’t trust him to actually raise the child, not from the age of four into adulthood. Thomas had taken so much from him already, and he wasn’t going to let him add Gus to the list too.
He looked down at her when she admitted that she gave Thomas more credit than he did. “I think you do too,” was all he said. He could have told her what it was like after she’d left. He could have told her how unfair it was, for Thomas to put so much responsibility on his shoulders, to expect so much and give nothing in return, and he could have told her just how badly it had fucking hurt when Thomas hadn’t called, or even attempted to reach out to him after he’d left New York. All it would have taken was one sign that the man cared, and he’d have gone back. He was already in a bad place after Wren had left him, hurt and alone, and Thomas’ apathy had severed the last bit of his hope. But Wren, at least, had her reasons for leaving, however misguided. All this time, and the only reason Luke could think of why he’d turned his back was because Thomas had never actually cared at all. Maybe a small part of him hoped that there was an explanation, though, something that would make it okay, because a part of him still wanted the man’s approval, still wanted him to care. Deep down, the boy who’d loved him like a father still existed.
“It’s not,” he said, without hesitation. “It’s not better for him. Thomas has money, and he has material things. Maybe he can give more in that sense, but he can’t love him more than we do. He can’t take care of him like we can, Wren. Nothing can ever replace his parents, no matter how much wealth and power he has.” He forced himself to keep quiet while she spoke, her fingers on his lips aside, and while a waitressing job meant that there would be no naked men leering at his wife, it also meant less money. He knew that. Nannies wouldn’t come cheap, though; would her old job be enough? It occurred to him that he could ask Thomas, just swallow his pride and ask for help, but Thomas might refuse, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that they needed a nanny to the man who had the power to take his son away if he decided he wanted to. He thought for a moment, absently running his fingers over her skin. “You mean taking back your old clients? I don’t want you doing something dangerous or... or something you wouldn’t normally do just to pay for a nanny,” he said.
If Wren took the time to actually think about Gus as a teenager, she would probably change her mind about all of it. She blamed herself for so many of the things that had gone wrong between Luke and Thomas, and she wouldn't like the possibilities for her son if he ended up liking someone Thomas didn't approve of. In her mind, it still held true that Luke would have had a very different life if he had stayed in Thomas' good graces. She still imagined that life she thought he would have when she left New York all those years ago. College, a smart girl at his side, and holidays with his adopted father. No killing, no cutting, nothing bad. And he wouldn't have money problems now, either. He'd be able to chase his dreams without responsibilities holding him back. And, maybe, Luke and Thomas only butted heads because Thomas hadn't raised Luke from when he was a child. Gus was small, and he was so trusting, and Thomas was older now and had a child of his own. It might all turn out different, and that was what she had to cling to whenever she thought of her child being here, across the country. But, then, she had survivor's guilt when it came to Gus. She had the guilt of all those years with him suffering because of her choices, and she was determined to put her own needs aside this once, if she had to. But none of it, none of the logic, changed the fact that she very much wanted to bring him home, and that she very much wanted the little boy to want to come home with them.
She wasn't surprised by Luke's agreement that she gave Thomas more credit than he did. "I talked to him a bunch of times about you. He might have hated me, and he made so many mistakes that I really want to just strangle him for sometimes, but he did love you, Luke, in his own way." That was easier for her to see, maybe, than it was for him to see. She'd grown up with a maman who was a selfish teenager, who'd gotten her own daughter involved in terrible things, but Wren could still see past that, could still see that mistakes didn't mean her maman hadn't loved her. And, despite everything and after all these years, she still loved and missed her mother. So she could see beyond Thomas' mistakes, even if forgiving them was hard. She suspected, though she had no proof, that Thomas was probably as scared to see Luke as Luke was to see him, but then she remembered Thomas best in a prison chair, broken and battered; she would never be able to unsee that.
But, even with all that, she did agree that Thomas wouldn't love Gus like they did. He'd love him like a grandparent, and he'd do everything he could to make sure the little boy didn't follow the same path his father had, but that wasn't the same, and she knew it. Her fingers pressed against his lips, gentle but insistent pressure. "I know he can't love him like we do, but we need to come up with a plan then, something solid, or our love isn't going to be enough to make things okay." It was a plain thing, a simple thing, but true. Her maman had loved her so much that Wren had never questioned it, but she had still lived a terrible childhood. "No, not being someone's mistress," she said quickly, because she knew he wouldn't agree to that. "But maybe a few higher priced clients, some escorting. Only if we decide together." She shrugged her shoulders the tiniest bit. "Do you know how much waitresses make? 2.13 an hour. Bo still wants to hire me, but I'm not sure a secretarial job for the CIA is going to do us much good, really." She moved her fingers from his lips, and she stretched against him and just brushed her mouth against his jaw, more reassurance than anything else. "Come on. Let's talk on the way?" she asked, and maybe it was just nerves that spurred her to suggest movement; she was worried about how he would react to her statement, and it showed in her own too-quick movements when she reached for her bag and coat.
Luke shifted his weight from one foot to the other and averted his gaze, both signs of discomfort when she said Thomas had loved him in his own way. Max often told him the same thing, but he found it hard to believe that, and maybe it was because he was afraid of letting himself believe only to have his hopes dashed again. He’d spent so much time making excuses for Thomas, and he tried not to do that anymore. ‘His own way’ hadn’t been enough, and unlike Wren, he couldn’t look past Thomas’ mistakes. He’d grown up with good, decent, loving parents, and maybe things hadn’t always been easy or smooth, but neither his mother nor his father had ever put him in danger, or asked him to do things he wasn’t ready for, or done anything as irresponsible as most of the adults he’d known back in Seattle had done at one point or another. At the very least, past experiences had given him a very solid idea of the kind of father he wanted to be, and it wasn’t one like Thomas had been. “Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, forcing the words past the sudden tightness in his throat. He wondered if he was really ready for this, to face Thomas after all this time. Surely he’d known what his estranged son had been up to during the past five years, and if there was one thing Thomas could never forgive, it was murder. He had the blood of more than one man on his hands, and he feared that Thomas would look at him with disgust, or worse, that he might not even want to see him at all. Maybe he would have a nanny or someone else bring Gus to them, just so he wouldn’t have to look at what a disappointment his son had become. He knew nothing he did could make up for his sins. He didn’t expect redemption, not ever, and Thomas wasn’t nearly as forgiving as Wren, but better to not have to face the disappointment than have all his self-hatred and doubts affirmed.
All he wanted to do was insist that their love would be enough, but he realized that wasn’t very realistic. “I know,” he admitted. “I know we can’t just ignore the problem and hope it solves itself. But we can figure something out that doesn’t involve giving him to Thomas, and only seeing him on occasion.” He gave her a look when she hastily assured him that being a mistress wasn’t on the table, because he’d thought that would have been clear enough, but then he outright froze when she mentioned escorting. It was like all those years ago, when she’d been with other men and he hadn’t done anything about it, believing it was for the greater good, and he’d barely been able to cope then; he knew for a fact he couldn’t now, and he’d vowed that he would never let it happen again. “No,” he said immediately. “Not escorting, Wren, you can’t be serious.” He would have kept going, but the feel of her mouth against his jaw calmed him a little, enough so that he managed to bite his tongue and collect himself, and he nodded when she suggested they talk on the way. He slung his bag more securely over his shoulder, took hold of his luggage, and kept an arm around her waist as he nudged her along, towards the doors leading out of the airport.
“I don’t want you to be an escort,” he said honestly. “I’d rather ask Thomas for money than have it come to that. And I know waitressing doesn’t make much money. I know, but that doesn’t mean we have to start considering those kinds of options, you know?” He paused, aware that he couldn’t let Jack’s secret about the CIA slip, but two of the people he cared about already worked for them, and he didn’t want a third added to that list. Even Silver, despite his troubles, hadn’t wanted Wren involved in that, and he wasn’t likely to forget how willing they’d been to go after innocent civilians just to get what they wanted. “I think Bo means well,” he said carefully. “But I think... after all the trouble we’ve had with the CIA, staying away from them is a good idea. Bo doesn’t run the whole agency, Wren, and just because you start off as a secretary doesn’t mean you’ll stay as one. And it doesn’t seem like they just let people leave whenever they want. I just-- it doesn’t seem safe, and do you really want to answer to the CIA for the rest of your life? What about when our money troubles stabilize? What if they want to put you out in the field?” Too many uncertainties, and neither Jack nor Max had done anything to convince him that the CIA was a good option for either of them.
She knew what discomfort looked like on him. She knew how it fit on his shoulders, and how it settled on his features. She wished she could take that away from him, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change the past. If she could change things, she would have changed them a long time ago. All she could do now was pray to all of her maman’s old gods that this would end up okay. That this visit wouldn’t break him in a million ways that she wouldn’t be able to put back together. She might be sure that Thomas would do everything he could for Gus, but that didn’t mean she thought he understood Luke any better than he had back then. She knew she would go into it defensive, because this was the one thing she felt the most protective about when it came to Luke. He had come so far, and she was so proud of him, and she wanted Thomas to feel the same way. She just didn’t know if he would, if he could. Yes, Luke had messed up. He’d become addicted to something that made his hurt feel better, and he shouldn’t have done it. But he’d come so far since then. He wasn’t Jack, and that was the only thing Thomas needed to understand. That he wasn’t Jack. That he’d never been like Jack.
“I’m trying to come up with another solution,” she admitted of not ignoring the problem, of not giving Gus away. If the little boy wanted to come home with them – and that was a big if - then they needed to find him some security, whatever the cost. Maybe normal people wouldn’t need to resort to such drastic measures, but they weren’t normal people, were they? If they were, she’d have no issues with cheap food and cheap clothing. None of that would matter if Gus was loved and safe. But they were different, and it wasn’t about quality of life for them. It was about being gone. And she knew now that distance didn’t change anything. All the way across the country, and her journal still worked. She’d checked it as soon as she’d landed and, while she couldn’t sense Selina in her mind, she had no doubt that the woman was there. “It doesn’t have to include sex,” she said of escorting. If she could just get lucky and find some high roller clients that recommended her to other high rollers, then it might just involve laughing and drinking champagne at a blackjack table. And even with her lips against his jaw a moment later, she could still feel that tenseness in his body. She hated it, but she wanted a solution, and she was always quick to offer herself up when it came right down to it.
She thought maybe he would change the topic as they walked outside to wait for a cab, but he didn’t. “We aren’t asking Thomas for money,” she said firmly. If there was one thing they weren’t going to do while they were here, it was give any indication that they couldn’t make it on their own. She wouldn’t let his pride take a hit that way. “This is all only temporary. We don’t need to tell Thomas about it. Once you graduate, it’ll be different.” And, despite the fact that she knew Bo wouldn’t like it, she agreed with him about the CIA. That felt like shackles, no matter how much Bo promised that it wouldn’t be. “Jack slipped up. I know he works for them now. And Max too.” Her anger about that had faded during the flight; it didn’t matter. Silver was dead now, and she didn’t want to fight about things that had happened when he was still alive, not after seeing Tony die. “But I don’t want to go there. You’re right.”
She put her bag into the trunk of the cab that pulled over for them, and she slipped her arms in the warm wool of her coat. The address she rattled off was one that was across from Thomas’ address. There was a hotel there, around the corner, and she was hoping they could charge a room there, assuming the credit limit increase she’d requested before leaving Las Vegas had taken effect.
There had to be another way, Luke was certain of that, one which didn’t involve escorting, didn’t involve Wren with other men in any capacity. Maybe he could do private security, for individual people rather than a large casino like Caesars. Surely there were people who needed protection for themselves and their assets, and even if he had to look the other way sometimes, maybe it would be worth it. Then again, it would clash with his goal of becoming a police officer, but maybe so long as he didn’t let questionable cross over into anything that actually broke any laws, it would be okay. And surely there were perfectly legal reasons for people to need security. He could do parties, events, even work for other companies; anything that paid, along with his steady job. “I don’t like asking you for things, you know that,” he said. “And I’d do almost anything for you. I would. But I can’t stand by and watch you be with other men. I can’t be okay with that, Wren. I just can’t. I’d do anything else, anything at all, but not that. Please, don’t ask me to.” He wasn’t that boy anymore, who would swallow what needed to be done no matter how bitter it tasted or how badly it burned on the way down. “I could do some contract work,” he said. “I know you don’t want me getting a second job, but it wouldn’t be steady, not like Caesars. Just security jobs, here and there, for some extra money, until I graduate.” Which, as long as he didn’t vanish for another month, wasn’t too far off.
He didn’t argue when she said they weren’t asking Thomas for money. Letting him know that they were in financial trouble was being vulnerable in a way he wasn’t ready for, not with him. Not unless it became absolutely necessary. As for her knowing about Jack, that was unexpected, and he fully expected her to be angry, like she’d been when she found out he knew about Silver’s problems and hadn’t told her. But there was no anger, and he found himself grateful for that. “Jack wasn’t really given much of a choice,” he said carefully. “It was either that or prison, but I think... I think the CIA was really just a different form of imprisonment.” He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t do anything about it; there was no way to help Jack in that regard. He was relieved, at least, that she wasn’t going to push that issue. His main concern with Silver had been that there were people after him, whereas in Jack’s case, that wasn’t a problem. If the CIA hadn’t been trying to kill him, and actively keeping tabs on the ones he was closest to, then there wouldn’t have been as much need to worry. But he didn’t want to delve into the past, not when Silver was a close friend of hers and it was no secret that he didn’t quite feel the same way about him.
His bag and luggage followed hers into the trunk, and he slid inside the cab after she did, noting the address she gave but not commenting on it. They’d need somewhere to stay, since he doubted Thomas would offer his hospitality, and nearby made sense. He felt a sudden spasm of nerves, which caused him to search out her fingers with his and give them a quick, tight squeeze, and admittedly he was glad he wasn’t doing this alone. Her very presence gave him strength he didn’t think he would have on his own.