InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Hey, stud. Wanna dance?"

punkassmouth (punkassmouth) wrote in thereincarnates,
@ 2012-10-26 02:21:00

Entry tags:

rebekah davis, sean devlin

Who: Rebekah Davis and Sean Devlin
What: Rebekah follows up a lead, and y'know - breaking and entering
Where: Sean's studio in New York
When: Thursday, October 25th. Some point after midnight because who needs specific, right?
Warnings: Breaking and entering, swearing, probable violence, complete lack of communication and trust. Reunited and it feels so good.

Rebekah was aware that breaking and entering was probably a bad idea, especially since this wasn't just a hunch. She knew Sean had Zack in his head. There was no follow up to that, it wasn't necessary. She trusted Jenny's Intel in that respect. She couldn't just take her word for it though, that's not how she operated. She had to get a feel for this guy. And she knew Zack would never let Sean, not for a second, accept Max's existence without proving it to himself first. So she broke into his studio, because that's where her trace led her.

She wasn't just some low rate burglar, though. Sure, she dressed in black. And she brought a gun, because she wasn't stupid enough not to. She had night vision. She had a feather light step. And she had a twisted, paranoid mentality. See, Rebekah could booby trap her own place to deter intruders - to give her the extra time should anybody actually catch her scent - so she couldn't really understand why Sean might not rig those same booby traps. It made her extraordinarily cautious, as she crept through his studio. She didn't switch on the lights, she didn't need to.

The place wasn't too suspicious. It was as he had said. There were photos. A lot of photos. On the walls, and hanging from wires. She found the tryptophan, cementing what she already knew. Despite that deceptively impersonal evidence, there wasn't actually anything concrete here to suggest where exactly Sean lived, because he sure as hell didn't live here. That was fine. Rebekah didn't need to know where he laid down at night. In fact, she preferred to not know. It seemed personal.

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honorandduty
2012-10-26 05:58 pm UTC (link)

Where he laid down at night should have been nobody's business, as was the place where he stared at negatives through a magnifying glass deep into the night. It was late - late enough for the city noise to emerge in full earnest and late enough to have been curled up in his bed a good while ago, but his body still lived on another internal clock that told him it was morning, not sometime well past the midnight. Jet lag was a bitch, but while he had both that and a severe case of idle hands itching to get busy, the work was easy. In between the military colloquialisms that the soldier in his head was prone and the paranoia that had begun to set in deep, it gave him the opportunity to set the switch to zero.

Except that even with developed negatives and blank photographic paper, it was never that easy to lay himself down and go the fuck to sleep. The tossing and turning? He was well used to it by now, same as he was with the nightly walks from his house to his flat. Same as he was doing right now, body illuminated by the street lights as his shoes tirelessly hit the grooves of every tile his path and habitually ground down the occasionally cigarette but he came across. Not that he smoked - Zack wouldn't know of it, but it was one of those habits that people seemed to pick up, same as they learned ignored abandoned newspapers laying around on benches and bus seats. Same as they learned not to look a stranger in the eye. Big city manners, they weren't an easy thing for a formerly small town boy to grasp. But Zack, the child of the Pulse, had helped with that. Getting down to it, Zack had helped him with so much.

When he stepped over the treshold of the building that housed his studio, feelings of disquiet that he should have expected after being confronted with the possibilities of other transgenics, settled in. And as he finally edged closer to his front door, Zack's memories proved to be invaluable. After all, he had been trained, but not for this. Burglars? Ten years ago he would have rang for the police - well after the fact and hoped for the best, but after a certain point in his life, there had been no turning back. Not that he wanted to.

He should have felt invaded, but it was just a place, just a studio, all of which could be replaced and rather quickly, if he wanted it so. With one hand pressed against the door, he slipped inside with feet just as light as Rebekah's had been. And as he held his breath, he avoided that sole, creaking floorboard and headed straight into darkness and reached out to grab someone's wrist.

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punkassmouth
2012-10-28 05:30 am UTC (link)

A hand grabbed Rebekah's wrist and she didn't attack, not like every tense muscle in her body told her to. This wasn't her studio - it was Sean's. Attacking him would only cement the forever present fears that maybe Manticore had latched onto all of their trails. She wasn't Manticore. She wasn't here to capture and retrain. So she froze. She blinked at him through the darkness of the studio, illuminated only by the street lamps outside.

"Well aren't you a nocturnal little thing," she said dryly. It was well after midnight, and there was really no reason for him to return to the studio. He was supposed to be at home, asleep, like a normal person. But of course Sean wasn't a normal person, was he?

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honorandduty
2012-11-03 07:44 pm UTC (link)

So he was dealing with a woman after all - a pretty damn young one, from the sound of it. "Funny. I could say the same about you," he added as he roughly pulled her closer to scan her face. "I'm jet lagged, what's your excuse?" Whatever the reason for breaking in, he wasn't likely to forget it now - not when it came down to strangers from the internet breaking into his damn place. "Didn't your mother teach you that breaking into other people's places is rude? Because mine did." And with that, he let go of her wrist and just barely managed to resist the urge to hand out a rough shove.

She was a young one, not much older than Max and the others had been. And that, together with the whole breaking and entering, didn't exactly inspire a whole world of trust. Zack urged him to run, but he stood his ground. "You can see me just fine, can't you?"

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punkassmouth
2012-11-03 09:08 pm UTC (link)

"My mother didn't teach me anything." It was a lie. Her mother taught her that everything was a machine, everything could be broken and analyzed. No problem was too great. No problem was incapable of being solved. But then her parents sent her off to boarding school when she was thirteen, and let other people teach her things her parents should have. Her parents were dead by the time she left boarding school, so as far as Rebekah was concerned, they deserved none of the respect such knowledge warranted.

She turned away from Sean and paced further back into the studio, her gaze scanning the pictures with disinterest. She'd already looked at them in great detail before Sean got there. Max kept telling her that you don't turn your back on an enemy, that arrogance like that is what gets people killed, but Rebekah ignored her, even as she zeroed into all of her other heightened senses.

"Of course I can see you just fine, Sean," she said. "I came to see if you were really Zack. Obviously I couldn't have talked it out of you online, so logically I decided to snoop through your things. No, I know. Trust blown, this is such a thing Manticore would do, blah blah blah and so forth. But I don't really function on a certain level of trust, that's where Max and I differ, so I don't really see it as a potential problem."

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