Who: Luke, Wren, and little Gus What: Confession time for Wren. Where: A duplex outside of Vegas. When: Part two of this. Warnings/Rating: MORE ANGST. And some fuzz.
When Luke closed his fingers around hers, Wren’s knees buckled a little, and she leaned against his back and muffled the sound of relieved sob against the fabric of his shirt between his shoulderblades. Her fingers around his were painful, tight vices of so much fear around his, and she didn’t move at all beyond that, not right away. She was perfectly still, as if stopping would make the world catch up somehow. She knew this didn’t fix everything, just like she knew not having a plan was a bad thing. She didn’t believe it meant that Luke wasn’t going to yell once they were alone again, that he might hate her when Gus wasn’t there to see, but for now it was okay, and at least this she’d never doubted. All her fears about telling him, they’d never involved him not accepting Gus. She’d just thought, at the time, that Gus would be inaccessible, no matter what either of them wanted. She pressed her cheek to Luke’s back, once the sobs calmed, and she allowed herself that moment of strength and solidness, that illusion that it would all be okay. Her fingers tugged on his shirt, low at his back, twisting the fabric without her even realizing she was doing it.
Gus had been silent since the assurance that the dog could protect him, and he didn’t respond to the question about being hungry right away. He was too busy watching the interactions in front of him with sleepy-wide, intelligent eyes, solemn, trying to figure things out, even if he was too young to actually manage it. He’d let go of Finch’s fur, though he was still sitting very, very close to the creature he trusted most in the room, and he bit his lip through it all. “I’m going to be in big trouble,” he finally said, eyes watering and lip quivering as he assured them - with very tiny seriousness - that this was the way things were. Then, with a little bit of hope, he looked over at Finch. “Can I keep him?” he asked, the question obviously stemming from Luke’s suggestion that the dog could protect him, which the dog couldn’t do if he didn’t come home with him. Lastly, and after much consideration, he nodded about being hungry. There was some kind of internal struggle for a second, and clearly being obedient won out, because his response about what he liked to eat was, “my vegetables,” which was not particularly helpful.
“We don’t have any of those,” Wren said with a smile, and it was the first thing she’d said to Gus since she’d picked him up at the church. It was said from over Luke’s shoulder, and she managed to pull it together long enough to take a few quiet steps toward the kitchen. “Do you like any other things?” It was so tentatively asked that it was immediately obvious that Luke was infinitely better at this than she was, at talking to a child. Her own Maman had treated her like a friend, not like a daughter, and Wren didn’t have a normal family to look back on as a template. But it seemed Gus was hungry enough to overlook this for the moment, because he offered up the fact that he liked peanut butter, hopefully tentative and whispered somewhere between obedient things, like fruits and fish.
While Luke may not have been in the most comforting mood at the moment, he made no attempt to pull free from her grasp, allowing her to squeeze his fingers as tightly as she liked despite the pain. He couldn’t just continue onward as though everything was fine, but he had to keep his anger and frustration in check around Gus, from this moment onward, and he thought he did an admirable job of doing just that. Reminding himself that this was just as hard for Wren as it was for him, perhaps even harder, also went a long way towards causing some of his less understanding feelings towards her to fade. Even though Gus was too young to understand what was happening, he was watching regardless, and he knew what the boy saw could have an effect on him later, depending on how long he remained here and what happened in the coming days. Luke turned his head enough to get a glimpse of her behind him, at least, and gave her fingers a gentle tug. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” If he could manage to keep from falling apart for the boy’s sake, then she could do the same.
Though he’d just met Gus a few minutes ago, Luke felt a sudden surge of protectiveness when the boy admitted that he was going to be in big trouble. “No, you won’t,” he reassured him, voice firm and without hesitation. “No one’s getting into trouble, Gus. I promise.” Maybe a promise from a stranger didn’t mean much to a small child, who clearly trusted the dog more than either of the two adults in the room, but he meant it regardless. Even though neither he nor Wren had any intention of allowing Gus to return home, Luke couldn’t bring himself to tell the kid no. “Sure you can. I think Monkey likes you more than me anyway,” he said with a small laugh, while Finch wagged his tail and barked as though confirming the statement. He may not have been an expert on kids, but he knew that no child actually liked their vegetables, and he couldn’t help smiling at the typical obedient answer despite the fact that Gus’ parents had likely ingrained such obedience in a way that involved force. Wren spoke up before he could say anything, and the way her voice sounded, so tentative and uncertain, broke his heart nearly as much as Gus’ instinctive fear had.
“I loved peanut butter when I was a kid,” he said, seizing upon the mention in the midst of Gus’ litany of foods he was apparently supposed to like but obviously didn’t, at least not beyond what he’d been told to like. “I still do. Would you like a peanut butter sandwich?” Luke turned to Wren, a silent question in his eyes, since he had no idea what she did or didn’t have in the apartment. Bread and peanut butter were simple enough, but he was more than willing to get some from a grocery store if, by chance, she didn’t have any of either.
She didn’t take his reassurance to mean anything about them, about her, but that didn’t matter. She desperately wanted to believe him anyway, wanted to believe they’d figure it out, that Gus would be okay, that he wouldn’t need to go back. Blissfully unaware of a police manhunt or any resulting arrests from her actions that morning, she had the hope that the Johnsons would just leave it alone. They’d stolen him, hadn’t they? Maybe they were worried that it would come out, maybe they hadn’t called the police at all. It helped her too-quick, shallow breathing calm, and it was the only thing that kept her from tearing up at Luke’s reassurances to the the scared little boy on the stairs. She wondered then, as she often had in the past two years, how things would have turned out if the clinic hadn’t gotten the dates wrong. She wasn’t dreamy anymore, and she didn’t think it would have meant an instant happy ending, but Luke would have been a good father regardless, even as a boy; that she was sure of.
She had taken another few steps toward the kitchen when Luke assured Gus that peanut butter was on the menu, and she nodded just a little. The cupboards were mostly bare, save a few quick things she’d brought over from the villa when she’d gotten the key to the duplex the evening before. Among the items, were organic peanut-almond butter, currant jelly and fresh baked bread, along with soy milk, oat cereal and gourmet lemon wafers. It wasn’t exactly the makings of a child’s pb&j, but she hoped maybe Gus wouldn’t notice. She could hear him talking as she walked away, his tiny voice asking Luke who they were, and asking if Monkey was his dog.
Busying herself in the kitchen was something she could do without breaking into a million shards of exhaustion and stress, so she just inclined her head at Finch, who barked and tried to nudge the little boy off the stairs. She disappeared into the kitchen, which was no worse-for-wear after her outburst in it earlier, and she began tugging out the makings of a sandwich, keeping the ingredients far back on the counter, so that Gus (once Luke brought him in) wouldn’t be able to see the bottles. She hummed something soft as she worked, a lullaby her Maman had sung when Wren was very small, and she mixed some French lyrics in here and there, quiet enough to make it obvious that she was trying to keep herself calm, rather than doing it for anyone else’s benefit. She needed to pull herself together, and she knew it. She set the plate (with two sandwiches) on the small kitchen table, poured matching glasses of milk to set alongside it, and she dipped her finger in the jar of currant, knowing she should eat something herself, but unable to.
With Wren off making what he assumed would be an actual peanut butter sandwich rather than some weird organic stuff, the task of coaxing Gus down the stairs and into the kitchen was left to Luke and, by extension, Finch. The dog was his best chance at earning the child’s trust, even if it was just a sliver, and fortunately Finch would be obedient enough to follow his lead. He was left at a temporary loss when Gus asked who he and Wren were, because he had no idea how to answer such a question, but the boy was watching him expectantly and he had to say something. “We’re friends of Iris,” he said, because it was either that or his parents, and he had a feeling they didn’t have many friends, whoever they were. “She takes care of you sometimes, remember?” For a brief, heart-stopping moment Luke thought Gus might not remember, but then he gave a shy smile and nodded with the sort of enthusiasm that only a kid could muster, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Finch attempted to nudge the boy down the stairs again, giving a soft wuff of impatience, and Luke motioned for the dog to begin his descent in the hope that Gus would follow his lead. “Monkey is my dog,” he agreed. “I’ve had him since he was just a puppy, but I don’t mind if you keep him. How about you come down for your peanut butter, okay?” He kept his voice calm, reassuring, and with a little encouragement from Finch, Gus got to his feet and took each step slowly, one by one, a hand fisted in the dog’s scruff the entire time. He eyed Luke with lingering wariness once he reached the bottom, looking up as though he half-expected something terrible to happen, but then Finch gave a low bark and licked his hand; apparently, if the dog trusted him, he couldn’t be that bad.
Luke entered the kitchen first, followed closely by Finch and Gus (who refused to leave the dog’s side) having successfully caught the boy’s attention with a story about what Finch was like when he was much, much smaller. Gus brightened at the sight of the sandwich and glass of milk waiting for him, yet still hesitated, looking between Luke and Wren as though unsure if he was actually allowed to sit. Luke nodded encouragingly, and Finch settled himself down beside one of the chairs, which was enough to convince the boy to climb onto the chair and settle himself down before grabbing the sandwich in both hands and taking a bite. Luke saw the second sandwich, but he wasn’t the least bit hungry, and while he knew Wren was in a fragile state he felt like she needed to be aware of what was going on outside in the real world. He met her gaze from across the table and gestured to the other room, not wanting to alert Gus to the fact that something was wrong.
Wren gave Gus a lingering look, but the boy was eating and chattering with Finch, and she swallowed nervously before nodding in response to Luke’s gesture. She didn’t know what he wanted to talk to her about, since she didn’t know about the police hunt, and she assumed the worst - that it was the rest of the argument that had been truncated by Gus’ appearance on the stairs. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Gus’ head softly, ruffled his brown hair a little, and smiled down at him when he tipped his head back to look at her. Her eyes went damp, and she walked past the table, past Luke, and into the living room. But she didn’t stop there, because she expected yelling, and the kitchen door wouldn’t keep the sound out. Instead, she climbed the stairs, and she stopped at the top. If Gun tried to run out, they could see the front door from there, but the added walls would still offer some privacy, both visual and audible.
She leaned against the wall, and she wrapped her arms protectively around her middle, and she tried to talk before he had a chance to, to cut him off before he yelled, looking down all the while. “I promise, I didn’t know until two years ago, and I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t see any bruises until this week, and I never saw any indication of anything wrong.” Her voice cracked with guilt there, because she had missed it. Maybe it had been going on for years, and she’d missed it. “When I saw you at the hotel, I talked to Roger. He figured it out, and he- He’s your brother, Luke. I thought he would know better than me, whether it was a good thing or not, and-” She took a deep breath, because she should have done it anyway, and she realized it now, but she understood Roger’s motivation too. “He thought it would be worse, I think, to know and not be able to do anything about it.” And she’d known how that felt - for years she’d known.
There was a giggle from the kitchen, followed by a wuff, and she relaxed a little more. Then, finally, she risked looking at him. Her expression was fear combined with sharp hope, and there were droplets of blood on her lower lip from where she’d bitten it raw. She wanted a drink, oh, God did she want a drink, but she knew that wasn’t an option. Even the medicines in her purse were off limits until Gus was asleep, and she wasn’t sure she was even supposed to sleep with a child that young in an unfamiliar house. What if he wandered off? She fended off panic with a shaky breath, and she swallowed thickly. “I just need some sleep without nightmares, and a few days on the antibiotics, and I’ll be better, Luke. I promise.”
“We’ll be right back,” Luke promised, once Wren had left the kitchen. “If Finch begs, you can give him a little peanut butter. Not too much, or he’ll get sick.” Gus nodded, mumbling something through a mouthful of sandwich, and patted the dog’s head with crumb-covered fingers. He wasn’t worried about the boy trying to run off, especially with Finch at his side, and he followed her out a few seconds later. It did occur to him that she was probably expecting him to yell at her, or at least vent some of his anger, but he planned on doing neither. Even if he’d wanted to, this wasn’t the time or the place to do so.
He had no chance to speak when he reached the top of the stairs, and instead of interrupting and cutting her off he decided to keep silent and let her say whatever it was she thought she needed to say in an attempt to calm him, or so he assumed that was her intention. “I know you wouldn’t have let it get this far if you’d known about the bruises before,” Luke said slowly, once there was a sufficient pause between her words. “But you and Roger had no right to keep this from me. I don’t care what either of you thought was best.” He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and let it out slowly, deliberately, and focused on the pressing issues at hand-- like the police search for Gus and Iris’ imprisonment. “I really don’t want to get into this right now, Wren.” Nothing could be magically fixed overnight, and it would take more then a few days for his anger and hurt towards her to fade, but all that could wait. They were still, potentially, in a great deal of trouble. When she looked at him, there was nothing visibly angry in his expression, nor was their hatred in his gaze, but a weariness that came with the pressure suddenly placed upon his shoulders mixed with lingering concern.
“I’ll see what I can do about work,” he said, “but... there’s something you should know.” Here, he hesitated, but it was better for Wren to know the truth now instead of being left in the dark and making a potentially dangerous mistake. He took a step forward, worried about how she might react, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The police are looking for Gus. They’ve already arrested Iris for kidnapping him, and they must think she had an accomplice, or that she hid him somewhere.”
She took his comment about not wanting to get into this as a sort of door closing, slamming, and the weariness only made her more certain that was the case. For a second, the pain on her face was a stark thing, accented by pallor and shallows and that unhealthy breathing the nightmares had wrought. Then she nodded, the movement a jerky thing, and she looked away. This was worse than anger, she thought. Anger, at least, left room for something like caring, and she tried to pull that blanket of coolness up around her, the facade, the distance. She wasn’t very good at it just then, and it was obvious, the attempt, but she managed a little, and she was looking at him again by the time he spoke.
The step forward alerted her to the fact that something was wrong, because she was pretty sure he would have kept his distance otherwise, and she met his gaze with wary gray eyes, circles around them all the darker for her careful attention to whatever he intended to say. It was a testament to something like strength that she didn’t move forward when he placed his hand on her shoulder, and she just hugged her arms around herself tighter to keep from reaching for him. “Iris?” she asked, once his words sunk in, confusion in the question. “Why? She’s only worked for them for a few weeks and-” she began, but then she remembered the botched background check, and she realized whatever Iris had been hiding might have made her seem suspicious to the police. The mention of the accomplice made her close her eyes, and though she shuddered, she still didn’t give in to the need to move closer. “MK met me at the church. Maybe they saw a second car,” she suggested, and she rubbed her face with her hands and pushed past him, unable to stay still any longer.
She paced, small steps in the confined space of the stairway landing, back and forth, and then again. “She has money. They’ll get her out, right?” was her question of Iris. There couldn’t be anything like concrete proof, because Iris hadn’t been involved, but this still changed things. “I was hoping they would let it go,” she admitted, and she finally stopped near the top step. “I was planning on taking him back to Caesar’s. I can’t keep Selina from- Leaving Las Vegas won’t work and-” Another deep breath. “I do have a fallback plan,” she told him, though she didn’t like it, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t either, and her expression said as much.
The pain in her expression made him feel guilty, which led to anger, both at himself and her, and he looked down after a few seconds. Maybe he should have put his own barrage of emotions aside for her sake. Maybe he should have pretended, should have embraced her and reassured her that everything was fine, but what good would that do? This was reality. He hadn’t stopped caring, not even a little--he’d always cared too much, after all--despite the fact that they clearly had some issues to work through. It might have been too much, assuming that Wren would realize he wanted to try, to make an effort. He’d wanted that even before Gus, and now the boy’s existence only made him want it more. She might have been looking at him, but Luke wasn’t looking at her, at least not right away, not until he managed to convince himself (at least somewhat) that he had every right to feel however he wanted.
He shrugged, unsure of the details, and pulled his hand back when she wrapped her arms around herself. “She’s the babysitter, right? That makes her an obvious suspect.” Her background check, whatever it might have found, probably wouldn’t help either, but despite the fact that Iris was innocent Luke wasn’t convinced that justice would prevail in the end. The mention of MK was met with genuine surprise, and he stepped back when she pushed him out of the way, shaking his head. “MK,” he repeated. “Does anyone else know about you taking Gus?” The question was all concern, nothing accusatory; the more people they pulled into this, the more complicated things would be. He wanted to know who was aware of the situation and who had no idea.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, simple and honest. “There can’t be any actual evidence against her, because she wasn’t involved. Sooner or later they’ll have to realize that. Money helps.” Oh, how it helped. Luke knew that better than anyone. “You can’t take him back to Caesar’s now, not with the cops out looking for him.” Personally, he didn’t think a hotel-slash-casino was an appropriate place for a child, but he kept that particular opinion to himself. “What’s your fallback plan?”
His shrug hurt too, the fact that he pulled his hand away so easily, but she knew she deserved it. She’d been expecting it, she reminded herself, and she looked up to meet his gaze when he asked about Iris being the babysitter. She nodded. “For a few weeks now. Before that, he’s been going to the same preschool near the park for years.” The question about MK made her shake her head, and she paced again. “No, just MK, and she didn’t even know about Gus until we got to the church. She had no idea before, so she couldn’t have told anyone, and I trust MK with my life. She wouldn’t say anything. That’s why I asked her.” She stopped moving again, and she shook her head slowly. “She’s sick, though, Luke. Really sick, and I didn’t realize it.” It was short-sighted, maybe, seeing things in others she couldn’t see in herself; MK’s reaction to the fear gas was like that.
She was close enough to touch him again, through no intention of her own, and she reached out a hand, which she pulled back before she managed to make contact with his hip. She knew perfectly well, like he did, that money could do anything; she’d gotten out of jail once on Thomas’ dime, hadn’t she? When no jury in the world would ever have acquitted her. “Caesar’s still isn’t a bad choice,” she insisted. “It’s big enough that he can play inside without feeling trapped, there’s a closed-in deck, so he can go outside without us worrying, even a pool. I trust everyone in that suite with my life, except for Brielle, maybe. But MK and Alice, they aren’t going to say anything. All the security equipment has been replaced with things that feed somewhere in the city where only you can see, and I just had Alice hire Jack Corvus - Alice and MK, they’re too terrified to be there alone. Getting him in would be complicated, but once he’s there, I can’t think of any place safer. And we need a place with multiple people, because I can’t control when Selina goes through the door.” Which never bothered her as much as it did in that moment.
As for her fallback plan, she sighed. “We don’t have to move on it yet? Maybe. But if we do- I can come clean. Even if they arrest me, even if the Johnsons lie, and I’m charged with child trafficking or child abandonment, it doesn’t matter. I’ll tell them the truth, and you’ll get a chance at a DNA claim.” Here she did move, forwards, fingers closing on the front of his shirt with a hard and desperate tug, because this was the only solution she had, and Gus was the important thing here, not her. “Paternity always wins, Luke, and you’re squeaky clean. You’ve never done anything in your life that anyone can dredge up in court. You’re clean. Even if I sold or abandoned him, they didn’t return him. The jury will give him to you,” she said, and she had to believe it was true, or she would have shattered right there. It was evident in how tightly her fingers twisted around the fabric of his shirt, how she shook, and how she raised her gaze expectantly to look at his face.
Luke wasn’t worried about MK spilling their secret. She was one of the few people he actually trusted, and he knew she and Wren were close; even if she might want to share with Simon or Adam, or even Roger, she would never betray her best friend’s trust. “I know she wouldn’t,” he agreed. It had become less surprising over the years, yet he still couldn’t understand how Wren could be so concerned about everyone other than herself. “You’re sick too, you know. You need rest, and you need to get better.” He almost reached for her but caught himself just in time, covering the aborted movement by tugging on his jeans.
It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t entirely convinced that Caesar’s was the best place for Gus, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he looked down at her and considered their options. His own apartment was no place for a child, and Bruce might have set up a couple safehouses in the area, but he couldn’t keep a child in a storage unit either. The truth was that Luke had nowhere to keep Gus, and while Caesar’s might not have been family-friendly, at least the boy would never be alone. He had security set up, that was true, and he did trust MK and Wren, at least, as well as Jack. His thoughtful silence stretched until he sighed, reluctantly acknowledging that she made some fair points. “I guess it’s not that bad,” he relented. “It’s safe, at least, and he won’t be alone when you’re through the door. I don’t know Brielle or Alice, but I’d trust Jack with my life.” That was one thing he didn’t need to worry about. Bruce would never cross without informing him of when and for how long, now that Gus was in the picture. He hesitated afterward, visibly uncertain, and glanced down the stairs, towards the kitchen, without realizing it. “We’d have to figure out a way to get him there, but-- if we did, could I visit?”
Whatever he was expecting her plan to be, it admittedly wasn’t this. Maybe he should have seen it coming, but he didn’t, and he looked down at her, speechless, as she tugged on his shirt. Part of him was insisting that even if a judge did grant him custody, he had no idea how to raise a child; he couldn’t do it without her. He didn’t want to do it without her, despite everything. “No,” he said, finally finding his voice, and he gripped her shoulders tightly in a completely instinctive motion. “You didn’t sell him, and you didn’t abandon him. DNA is on our side, Wren. It’ll prove that he’s not theirs, and there’s no paperwork, right? It wasn’t legal, and-- and there’s bruises, that’s evidence right there, and I can do some digging. If there’s something to find, I’ll find it. Their credibility will be shot to hell.” Luke became more desperate, more frantic, even as he saw the sense in what she was saying. He might not have had the best job, but it was steady employment, and he could get something better. He could move. No one knew about the things he’d done, he was sure of that, and Thomas... Thomas had already alerted him to one background check and ensured that Silver didn’t find too much. He would do it again, even though they hadn’t spoken in five years. “If it comes to that, you know I’ll take care of him. I’ll do anything I have to, but it might not,” he said, almost pleading. “It might be okay.”
She didn’t catch the tug to his jeans, or the aborted movement it prevented, and she could tell he wasn’t sure about Caesar’s, which really didn’t surprise her. If she had her choice, Gus would be in a house with a yard and a white fence, not in a suite full of broken girls pretending they were women. But it was the best choice they had, and she added, “He won’t see or hear any of my clients. I’m trying to see if Alice can rent me a room for that without it breaking me financially, and I’ll talk to MK about the drinking outside of her room,” she added, thinking that likely covered his two large areas of concern. She’d need to talk to Brielle, think about that, but she wasn’t going to worry there until Brielle came home. Her larger concern was Alexander, and future attacks, but she trusted whatever security he had in place to notify him of anything that happened that was even mildly worrisome. His question, amid all her worrying and explanation, was unexpected, and she blinked at him twice before she even managed to say anything. Her expression went impossibly soft, and it was all she could do not to tug him to her. “You work there, Luke. It makes it really easy for you to come to the suite without anyone thinking anything at all.” She smiled, a little wistful and sad. “I think he likes you more than me anyway; you have to come.”
His hands on her shoulders made things better, somehow, which was possibly a strange thing. All that strength in his fingers, his hands on her, it had the effect of making her think everything was going to be okay, if he was just there. Her own fingers tangled tighter in his shirt, pulling him closer without any real intention behind it. He was close enough that she could feel the heat off him now, feel his clothing against hers, and she took a deep breath and tipped her head back more, to look up at him as he began arguing. “If it comes to that,” she agreed. She didn’t want to go to jail any more than he wanted it, but if it was the only way, so be it. “Don’t get caught,” she cautioned of him looking for things, though she didn’t advise against it. She’d been trying for years, but she hadn’t found anything, though she suspected there were things to find. “She’s going to come up clean, I think. Amy Johnson is mean, but she’s too religious to do anything really bad. Him, Steven, you might find something on him. He picked up a pregnant girl with the intention of bringing her home and taking her baby. I don’t think you do that without thinking. And he- he said and did things. No sex, not that,” she said, lowering her voice and making sure she could still hear Gus chattering at Finch in the kitchen, “but other things, and the things he would say. I don’t think you can be like him without something leading up to it. Not at home, where Amy could see, but maybe outside.”
She untangled her fingers, and she slid her hands down his shirt, still looking up at him, not even realizing she was doing it until she looked down and followed the path of her hands with her gaze. “I think Iris suspects, from seeing me at the park. And Silver’s driven me to places Gus has been, so he probably suspects too. We have to be ready for either of them to tell the police, I think,” she admitted, as much as she hadn’t wanted to think about either of those options earlier; it seemed safer to do so with him there, and she looked back up at him, just because she could just then, because he was letting her.
Like her, he was more worried about future attacks like the fear gas, and the prospect of Alexander finding out about Gus terrified him, but short of leaving Las Vegas there was always going to be some sort of risk. All Luke could do was ensure that every precaution was made to keep the boy safe. Her clients and MK’s drinking were still concerns, however, and he wasn’t willing to have his child exposed to either. “Good,” he said with a nod. “I know MK’s drinking problem won’t be fixed overnight, but she shouldn’t be doing that around Gus, and as for your clients... he’s young, but he still shouldn’t be around that either.” He hadn’t quite expected Wren to say that he couldn’t see Gus, and he probably wouldn’t have accepted it even if she had, but he was relieved nonetheless by her response. “You can’t know if he likes me better,” he said with a small laugh. “We just met. Besides, you’re his mother. Right now things are scary and confusing for him-- he just needs time. I’ll come,” he added. “Whenever I can.”
He hadn’t forgotten his anger, but he stepped forward when she tugged on his shirt regardless, hands sliding from her shoulders down her back where they lingered on her hips. “I won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll be careful.” His expression darkened as she went on, and he thought that however religious Amy might be, she wasn’t religious enough to refrain from harming an innocent child; in his mind, that made her just as bad as her husband, whatever he might have done. In any other circumstances Luke would have killed them both without hesitation, but that wasn’t an option now. First of all, it would make Gus’ situation even more complicated, and secondly, he had to stop relying on lethal methods. He couldn’t allow himself to be around his son otherwise. “I’ll focus on Steven, then,” he said, resisting the urge to ask what, exactly, he’d said and done. It was better if he didn’t know.
When her hands slid down his shirt he only glanced down once, lifting his gaze back to her face a moment later. “Iris and I met in the park one day,” he admitted. “We just made small talk, but Gus looks so much like me... she might know.” Luke hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know if she’d tell the police, though. She’s talked to Bruce about him, about Gus, and she just wants what’s best for him. I don’t think she likes the Johnsons any more than you do, Wren.” Silver’s name made him frown, however; there was clearly no love lost between the two, and even now a hint of jealousy lingered. “I don’t know about Silver, but if he does go to the police, we’ll be ready,” he promised.
“Even if getting another room is too expensive, I’ll have clients use the outside entrance, and I’ll lock the door.” At four, she didn’t think Gus would notice that kind of thing, especially not in a suite the size of a mansion with plenty of distractions; maybe she underestimated four year olds. As for his small laugh and reassuring words, she just shook her head a little bit. “He was a mess by the time we got him here. I don’t know who scared him more, me or MK,” she admitted, remembering the hitching tears from earlier in the day. The memory made her glance toward the kitchen, where the door was open now, and she almost panicked. But then she saw Finch’s tail wagging off the end of the couch, and lifting onto her tiptoes revealed a sleeping Gus on the couch with the dog. Four year olds were also, obviously, quieter than she anticipated. “I don’t really know how to be a mother,” she admitted, because she was possibly the least qualified person she could think of.
She kept her voice quiet, little more than a whisper, and she used the hands on his shirt to tug him further away from the edge of the stairs. She didn’t tell him that he couldn’t get arrested, because he knew that. And she had no idea about his lethal methods, which would have been another argument entirely. She did know about what he did at night, though, and she traced a scar through the fabric of his shirt, one low on his hip, and then she looked up at him. “Be careful,” she repeated, and it wasn’t just about Steven, not then. His hands on her hips made her breath catch, and she forced herself not to assume it meant anything, despite badly wanting it to mean everything.
“She never mentioned meeting you,” she said of Iris, a frown on her lips. “The last time we talked, it wasn’t good,” she admitted. “She said some things that were true, and that’s hard to hear sometimes. Like the fact that the background check could have taken away the only good thing Gus had.” Because she’d managed to lose him, which was what it basically came down to. She shrugged a little, helpless, and she tugged at his shirt at the stomach, nervous fingers plucking at fabric. “Silver sees a custody issue, I think, and I think he’s a retired cop or military. Even if he likes me, he’ll want to do the right thing, and that might mean turning me in. But it’s okay,” she assured him, trying to convince herself with the words. “It’ll be okay.” She glanced toward the couch, and she drew in a breath and asked the question she didn’t want to ask. “How are we doing this? The longer he’s here, the more likely it is we’ll get caught, especially if anyone saw the cars.”
Luke had no intention of outright ordering her to change her profession, or demand that she find another room despite the cost, but he didn’t like the thought of Gus being in the suite with her clients, despite its size and locked doors. Children were amazingly perceptive, and they noticed things adults never even dreamed they would. “That might not be enough,” he said slowly, treading the subject with caution. “Kids aren’t stupid, Wren. They notice things.” Like the way Gus had watched him and Wren, attempting to puzzle out who they were and why they were there, with him, despite being too young to have any success. “He’s not a mess now,” he said, an attempt at reassurance. “It’s just overwhelming for him. He--” The words stopped when he followed Wren’s gaze and saw the kitchen door was open, a spike of panic shooting through him, but he breathed a sigh of relief once he saw, as she did, that Gus was perfectly fine, merely asleep on the couch with Finch at his side. “You’ll learn,” he told her. “Besides, I don’t know how to be a father either.”
After one last glance over his shoulder, he allowed himself to be tugged away, lowering his voice to match hers in volume as to not awaken Gus. “I will,” be promised. “I’ll be extra careful. I know what I’m doing.” He knew she wasn’t talking about Steven, but rather what he did at night, and little did she know that he’d have to start making changes soon. At least if he stopped, she would never have to know the truth.
“It’s probably not something she wanted to mention, if she was starting to figure things out,” he shrugged. Luke could see where Iris was coming from, in terms of her anger over the background check, but he understood Wren’s motivations too. “That wasn’t your intention. You were worried about Gus, and you reacted impulsively. Even if your last conversation didn’t go well, she might not turn you in to the police. The problem is we have no way of knowing what she’s told them, not unless they broadcast it over the news,” he sighed. He was mostly worried about them finding out exactly what Iris had said when it was too late. His hands slid around to the small of her back, fingers firm against the fabric of her shirt, and he tried to keep his frown from deepening. “Silver should mind his own business. Even if he likes you,” and here there was added emphasis on like, a hint of jealousy seeping through, “this has nothing to do with him.” Unfortunately, he had no ready reply for Wren’s question, and his expression became troubled as he thought. “I’m almost positive I wasn’t followed, but you’re right. We can’t stay here forever. Caesar’s our only other option, isn’t it? If we do bring him there, though, it’d have to be at night-- daytime is too dangerous. It wouldn’t be easy, and you’d have to talk to everyone first, to make sure they’re aware of what’s going on.”
Wren had trouble believing that a child who was so very small could understand anything about what she did for a living, but she was pretty sure she’d never been so small herself. She tried to remember when she understood what it was that her Maman did for a living, but she really couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t know, and she gave him a look and a thoughtful nod. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can give Jack a regular room and use the servant rooms for work. Those have their own entrance, and they’re on the non-”family” part of the suite.” She’d have to put Gus in her room if she did that, but she had a sizable sitting room that might work for the little boy, at least temporarily. Her thoughts were waylaid by his comment that he didn’t know how to be a father, and she shook her head. “That’s not true,” she insisted, because he’d done a pretty good job in the past hour, as far as she was concerned.
“If they haven’t gone to Caesar’s yet, we might be okay, and Iris might not have said anything.” Surely she would have heard if the police talked to any of the girls. She closed her eyes when his hands slid around to the small of her back, the feel of strong fingers making her sway slightly on her feet. She decided, right then, that she didn’t care what this was - if it was just habit, or something like leftover desire, or comfort - she wanted whatever it was, like a greedy thing that didn’t have enough self-control to hold out. She leaned against him, and she looked up when she heard the jealousy in his voice. She had no idea he’d spoken to Silver, didn’t know about his conversation with Selina, and there was a question in her gray gaze. She didn’t ask, though; she just stretched, pressing closed lips to sensitive spot between his neck and collarbone.
“I don’t like the idea of telling anyone before we get there,” she said against his skin, because that worried her; she felt much safer with secrets, and she glanced toward the couch again. “Night is good. I’ll do it. They think they already have their blonde, right? They aren’t going to be looking for her accomplice to be another one. You’ll have to sneak Finch over after, though,” because dogs drew attention in the way children did not, and because she didn’t relish being the one to tell Gus the dog wasn’t going to be there. “While he’s asleep is probably best.” She didn’t know Luke had stolen a car, or she would have recommended they do it then, get it over with before something could go wrong, while Gus was sleepy and calm.
The thought of Jack living in a suite with four women and a child made him smile, though Luke was admittedly worried about how the boy would cope with being surrounded by so many strangers. While the Johnsons were clearly unfit parents, they were all he’d known, and now he was about to be brought into a strange environment full of people he didn’t know. “Maybe,” he agreed. “Better safe than sorry, right? Things are going to be different enough for him.” Despite having the all-clear to visit the suite whenever he wanted, a part of him still wished things could be different, that he wouldn’t have to visit his son; Gus would be around strangers more than he would be around his own father. Then again, he was probably getting ahead of himself. First they actually had to get Gus to Caesar’s and avoid the very real possibility that the police might find him and take him away regardless of their efforts. “Being able to talk to kids doesn’t mean I know how to be a father,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll figure it out. So will you.”
Bruce seemed almost certain that Iris wouldn’t turn Wren in, but there was that sliver of doubt that he had with just about everyone. People could be unpredictable, after all. “There’s no way for them to know without Iris saying something. The Johnsons don’t know you’re here, do they? Even if they do... they couldn’t tell the police about you, not unless they made something up.” He was rambling, more to himself than to her, mapping out the various possibilities out loud rather than silently; a habit he’d fallen into ever since Bruce showed up. The feel of her against him was warm and familiar, and he sighed when her lips met skin, his hold on her tightening unconsciously. No matter what she did, or how angry he was at her, he needed her too much to ever give up this. Five years should have changed things, but it hadn’t. Not in the ways that mattered.
“Okay,” he said quietly, seeing the sense in keeping it a secret until Gus was actually there. It lessened the chance of the police being tipped off, or the wrong person finding out; then again, some of the girls might not appreciate having to unexpectedly live with a child. Wren knew them far better than he did, though; aside from MK, the others were strangers. “If Gus knows Finch is going to be there, he might not make a fuss. If you let me know when you’re bringing him, I can be there beforehand? Finch is pretty well-behaved. I can get him in. Once he’s there, we can figure out what to do next.”
“I know,” she said of things being different for Gus in this new world. “If this afternoon is any indication, he’s going to be really scared,” she said. She knew this interlude was just that - an interlude. Once the newness of having Finch around him had worn off, Gus was certain to go back to how he’d been earlier in the day, but she didn’t want Luke worrying about that. There wasn’t anything that they could do about it, because giving him back just wasn’t an option. It would be hard, and she knew he’d miss the Johnsons (however bad they were). It was going to be a challenge. “He was a little better with me, but MK drove him here herself, and he’d never seen her before. I think she panicked a little too, and they were both wrecks by the time I got here.” She didn’t add that they’d been curled up in a car in plain view, because that wouldn’t make him feel any better either.
She shook her head when he asked if the Johnsons knew she was in Las Vegas. “No, and they don’t know I’m blonde either,” she added, which was a good thing, or they likely would have figured out it was her right away. “The last time they saw me, I was in Reno, and they probably think I died pretty soon after.” It was a hard thing to say, but it was the truth, and there was no point in lies anymore. She smiled a little at his rambling, and if she felt more certain he wasn’t going to push her away, she likely would have told him how endearing she found it. But she just rested her head against his shoulder when his hold tightened, reveling in that sigh, in case she never got to hear it again.
She didn’t move away as he agreed to her plan, and she was quiet a few seconds longer as she tried to think out timelines. In the end, she glanced back at the sleeping boy on the couch, and that made her choice for her. She looked back at Luke, and she wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t. She just stepped back, out of the circle of his arms, and she nodded toward the couch. “I don’t want to wait. It’s better now, before he gets used to this place. Take Finch and let him into my room? Gus is asleep; he won’t notice. I’ll call a rental in the next hour or so, to give you time.” It was risky, but she’d feel so much better once Gus was somewhere safe, somewhere nothing would happen to him if Selina compelled her to cross over. She was afraid he would argue, that he would want to stall, and she just tugged on his shirt. “Please?” she asked. Even with what had happened at Caesar’s, she felt safer in the hotel, especially with him working there himself. She fished through the pocket of her jeans, and she tugged out her key to the suite and held it out to him.
Luke fully expected Gus to be scared, and he knew that having Finch around would only do so much to calm him down. It would be difficult in the next coming days, especially with the doors being involved. Gotham was, unfortunately, full of crime, and anything could happen at any given moment. Giving up wasn’t an option, however, and they’d simply have to make the best of it. He held his judgement back about Wren’s decision to let MK drive the boy to the duplex in the first place, especially in her condition; it was too late to do anything about it now. “Of course he’s going to be scared. It’s going to be hard for a while, Wren. We’ll just have to do what we can to help him adjust.” The we was very much intentional. He fully intended on having as much of a role in Gus’ life as possible, despite the complications.
“Good,” he sighed, relieved. The Johnsons may have been cruel, and it wasn’t easy to hear that they’d taken the baby while leaving Wren behind to die, but the fact that they didn’t know she was here was a point in their favor. All he had to do was dig up some dirt on Steven, and there would be no chance of them ever managing to regain custody of Gus. He was no lawyer, but he wasn’t stupid either; his degree had touched upon certain areas of the law, and Bruce was well versed in that subject; as a vigilante, he had to be.
Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, and his hesitation was visible. They’d have to do it sooner or later, of course, but caution made him want to wait. After a long moment of silence he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Okay. Should I just... leave Finch and go?” He glanced back at Gus, who seemed so deeply asleep that he wouldn’t awaken easily, and gestured silently for the dog to come. Finch gave a soft wuff and gingerly eased himself off the couch and padded to the bottom of the stairs, where he waited expectantly.
She watched Finch pad over, and she couldn’t help but smile at the quiet and careful progress. Once the dog was seated expectantly, she turned her attention back to Luke. She had heard the very intentional we, and she didn’t expect anything less from him. “We will,” she agreed, acknowledging it. She looked up at him solemnly, gray eyes too old for her years, too serious, and she touched her fingers to his jaw. She didn’t stretch up and kiss him, though she wanted to. She didn’t hold onto him, though she wanted to do that too. But it was in her eyes, that want, and there was no hiding that. “Maybe? Just so you can have people who see you after I get there, so no one can say you were part of kidnapping him,” she said reluctantly, as much as she would have loved to have him waiting when they arrived at the hotel. But it was better if he wasn’t implicated, and she knew it. “I’ll call you once he’s there and asleep?” she suggested, wishing there was another way, but knowing this was for the best. And she knew, too, that he would be there somewhere, even if she couldn’t see him; she knew him well enough to know that. A hand moved to his hip, and it fisted in the fabric of his shirt there, just for a moment, before she forced herself to let go. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew it wasn’t the time just then. Next time, she promised herself. Next time.
Luke tried to hide his disappointment, he did, but some seeped through regardless, even as he nodded. It was better this way, he told himself. If he was implicated in Gus’ kidnapping then no judge would ever grant him custody if something happened to Wren. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. “That’s probably the best way to do it.” He took a few steps back, towards the stairs, and nodded again. “Yeah. Please? Just so I know you made it there safely.” Of course, he wasn’t going to just sit at home and wait for her call, but she didn’t need to know that. Then again, she probably suspected as much anyway. He descended a couple of stairs, stopped, and turned, seemingly before he lost his nerve. There was no warning, nothing said beforehand; just an arm around her waist to pull her forward before he kissed her, and afterward he didn’t give her a chance to respond.
He only looked back once before he and Finch left the duplex, one last lingering look at Gus, before he stepped outside and the door closed behind him.