Who: Joe Hardy and Carolina What: Carolina just wants to enjoy a beer at her favorite bar, but Joe is itching for a fight When: Late April; after the body swap Where: Carolina's favorite bar Ratings/warnings Medium for violence and talk of death Status: Complete!
Joe’d had recurring dreams before. They’d never been unusual: showing up to school without studying for a test, arriving some place in only his underwear, or worse, naked. Everyone had those dreams at some point. Usually Joe couldn’t remember them the next morning, only that they had happened. The dream he was having every night now, that was different. Every time Joe tried to sleep, there was Iola dressed in 1920’s clothing and living on her parents’ farm with her brother. She cheered Joe and Frank on, certain that they’d solve the mystery and clear the name of their friend’s father. She wasn’t even the main focus of the dream, only appearing a scant number of times, but she was the only part of it Joe could think about. She was happy, cheerful and full of life in this dream. Joe was torn between wanting to sleep just to see her again, and the crushing reminder the following morning that Iola was dead and that he had been responsible for letting her killer get away.
He couldn’t say that he’d been doing well before the Dream had started, but he’d been doing better. The move to California had started to do what Frank had hoped. Joe was starting to move on. He’d gotten a new job and was meeting people, settling in to what was supposed to be his new life. He had good days and he had bad days. However, after Dreaming the same thing for nearly two weeks, Joe’s bad days were starting to outnumber the good once again.
No, he didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t want to be distracted, forced to do things when all he really wanted was to be left alone. He knew Frank meant well and that his brother was worried about him, but there was only so much Joe could take. It wasn’t usual for him to lose his temper with his brother, but that evening he had blown up. He’d snapped at Frank that he didn’t need a babysitter, that he was fine and that maybe Frank should be worried about his own problems.
He’d regretted it immediately after snapping at him, but he was still too angry to take what he’d said back. He’d grumbled a “sorry” and left the apartment.
That had been the reason he’d gone to the bar. The fact that he was still angry and way beyond his tipping point was the reason he’d gotten into a fellow bar patron’s face. Now he was tangled up in a four-on-one fight in the middle of the bar that was threatening to plunge the entire place into chaos.
It had been a long week for Carolina. Between being swapped into someone else’s body, swapping back just in time to wake up with all the injuries her dream self had incurred flying into a steel highway divider at 100 miles per hour, to having one of the worst nightmares she had ever dreamt since she was a little kid, long was probably an understatement. All she wanted to do now was nurse her wounds, nurse a beer, and pretend that the craziness of Orange County was itself just a dream. Just for a little while.
Carolina liked this bar. She liked the bartender who would give her fresh, cold pint glasses when she sat at the bar instead of refilling the same one over again. Occasionally they would chat about everything under the sun that did not have to do with either of their day jobs. It was not like Carolina could really talk about her job anyway, but she liked that the bartender never asked. In return, she kept the conversation away from dealing with patrons at night, with only the occasional comment about the spirits she was imbibing. For the most part, they would trade stories about their old squads and the antics they would get into. Like the majority of the people who frequented the bar, he was former military. Former Air Force, actually, but Carolina did not hold that against him. Not everyone could be a Marine.
Tonight, he had taken one look at her not-quite-limp to the bar and had reached straight for the whiskey bottle instead of a pint glass. By the time she slipped up onto the stool she had two shots and a pint waiting for her. No questions asked. Oh yeah. He was definitely her favorite.
Carolina had heard the fight start behind her, but she paid it no mind. With as much testosterone as this place had passing through on a nightly basis, bar fights were almost par for the course. Hell, the sound of curses and punching was almost soothing since she was feeling far too busted up to go looking for a fight of her own. The bartender had already alerted the normal folk in charge of sending the rowdy clientele out the door on their asses, so it was just a matter of time before the bar would return to it’s usual jukebox and drunken cheers.
She picked up her beer again, intending to continue sipping her liquor and ignoring the mess behind her when one of said rowdy men was sent flying directly into Carolina’s back. Half the beer went flying through the air in front of her, landing on the bartender, while the other half sloshed back and spilled all over her shirt instead. She would have cursed, except the man had landed right against her very bruised ribs, pinning her against the bar top, and her world went white with pain. She sucked in a hissed breath, her teeth grinding as she fought her way back to reality. When the white finally cleared, the man had already gone back into the fray and left her and the bartender with dripping shirts.
That. Is. It.
Very carefully, Carolina set the nearly empty pint glass on the top of the bar. She gave the bartender a small smile and a “sorry about this” before slipping off of the stool. She turned toward the men still fighting, cracking her knuckles as she headed to one of the pool tables and took a cue from one of the players. The look in her eyes kept them from complaining while she was still in earshot. She might not be able to properly brawl in her current state, but wielding a staff was considerably easier.
It was a simple four-on-one fight, and the one looked as if he were holding his own pretty well. In Carolina’s eyes, that meant he was probably the asshole that had started the fight in the first place. The two men between her and the asshole never saw the redhead advancing on them, nor did they know exactly what hit them when the fat end of a pool cue was suddenly pushing into their sides, sending them away sprawling over tables and chairs. She did not feel like testing her healing injuries by knocking them all out with her fists, but thankfully that was where physics and a long lever came into play.
Now that she had enough room, the pool cue spun in a full circle, aiming to hit the back of the asshole’s neck while he was busy fighting off the two remaining idiots.
Joe hadn’t asked to be rescued, and he didn’t want to be rescued. Eventually he probably would have lost if not for the fact that he was the only one fighting on his own behalf, but he honestly didn’t care.
He was vaguely aware of the fact that the two opponents he had at his back had suddenly become a non-issue. Had he been a little more sound of mind (and not half drunk on beer and whiskey), that would have set off the necessary warning bells that something had altered the dynamic of the fight. Instead he took advantage of how surprised the opponent in front of him looked to land an uppercut to the guy’s chin and send him staggering backwards.
Joe hadn’t had any time to relish his victory when something round and hard clocked him right in the back of his neck. His first thought before pain exploded through his head and down through his shoulders and arms was how big of an idiot he’d been for leaving his back exposed and not checking when he had become aware of the fight’s shift. Well, it was too late now.
Joe staggered forward a couple of steps trying very hard to stay on his feet. Before he dropped he managed a look over his shoulder. He had expected to see one of the other guys he’d been fighting, holding a chair leg, or a bottle or something. He was surprised to see the red-haired woman who’d been sitting at the bar a few moments ago. She was holding a pool cue and glaring at him. Those intense burning green eyes were the last thing Joe saw before the bar went dark around him.
Carolina’s glare shifted from the instigator to the remaining idiots once she was sure he was out. “Pay your tab, apologize, and get the fuck out of here.” She growled in her most authoritative voice. One of the idiots looked like he was too drunk to care and was ready to jump back in and fight the strange woman that had appeared, but his (slightly) more sober buddy held him back. Since they had not started the brawl, it was unlikely that they would be 86’d for very long. The asshole at her feet, however…
One boot kicked idly at the man’s leg. Out like a light. A two hundred pound sack of dead weight would not normally be a problem for her, but her back hurt and she saw no reason to strain it further tonight. Carolina looked up at a group of soldiers still in their service uniforms sitting at a nearby table. She might have resigned her commission, but she still knew how to give orders. “Petty officers.” She snapped and watched as the men’s spines straightened in response. “Carry this mess outside.”
Two petty officers came up and picked up the unconscious blonde man, carrying him outside and depositing him unceremoniously on the bench typically reserved for smokers. Carolina headed back to the bar, intending to pay her tab, send a round to the petty officers that had helped, and say goodbye to her favorite bartender and hello to a beer from the fridge at home. Except he waved away her money and handed her two cups of water instead. The bartender was a good guy. She would never admit it out loud, but Carolina was weak against Good Men, so she agreed to take the cup of water to the man she had knocked out.
She found the instigator still slumped against the side of the building. Green eyes studied him in the dim lighting. Now that he was not fighting anyone, she could see that he was around Wash’s age. Except he had less lines around his forehead and more around his eyes. Carolina sighed softly. Dammit. He looked like a kid. A kid having a very bad night.
Carolina took a sip from one of the cups before throwing the remaining water at the man’s face.
The cold water brought Joe back to his senses quickly and rudely. He jerked away from the wall, instinctively throwing his head away from the water splashing his face. “The hell?!” He sputtered, wide eyes darting around his surroundings. He took quick note that his surroundings had changed. He was outside. It was night. There was a slight chill in the air. He’d been fighting? Yup. His body ached. There was a pain in the back of his neck that had been aggravated when he’d jerked back to consciousness. He rested a hand to his neck and found it to be tender and hot. As he did his attention settled on the person standing out there with him. The same red-haired woman he’d seen in the bar with the pool cue.
Joe narrowed his blue eyes into slits. “You.” It wasn’t a growl so much as it was just a statement. A statement that carried his displeasure at being hit from behind and dragged outside. He didn’t say anything again for a long few moments. He just sat there, hand to his neck with water dripping off his face and glaring at the woman. He wasn’t mad at her exactly. She had probably saved him from getting his ass ground into a pulp, but he was still angry at...Everything. It was hard to be angry at Everything. There was no one thing to direct said anger at, which Joe was used to. So, the redhead was a convenient focus.
What was she doing? Why was she here? Joe wanted to sit straighter, puff his chest out, look tough and tell this woman off. He couldn’t get his back to straighten the way he wanted and his shoulders refused to square up. All he could muster was a tired glare. “What do you want?” He finally asked.
“Settle down, kid. I’m not here to take your lunch money.” Carolina watched Joe attempt to look more threatening, but it turned out more amusing than scary. Granted, she was the reason he had the goose egg on his head, but from the looks of it he would not have any lasting damage. The fight had escalated quickly but it had been ended nearly as fast. He would probably be able to sleep off most of it. Unlike Carolina. I wonder if anyone’s ever dreamed of being healed instead of beaten up before.
She held out the other cup of water. “Here. Drink. It’ll help the headache.” Jesus, but the kid looked angry. If the fight had been started out of a need for revenge, he would have asked what happened, not what she wanted. Which meant it was probably started out of need to be stupid. She knew that feeling. Hell, she still felt that way sometimes. Sometimes not even in her own body. This place is too damn strange. “So what’s your story?”
Joe frowned at being called “kid”. He was twenty-seven fucking years old. He’d stopped being a kid a long time ago. Of course, his actions in the bar clearly stated otherwise, but Joe wasn’t at a point where he would admit that, even if the thought had crossed his mind. He continued to glare at the woman, his hackles clearly risen. Where the hell did she get off calling him “kid” anyway? She couldn’t have been that much older than him.
He looked suspiciously at the water cup for a split second before returning his eyes back up to the woman. It took him a moment to debate whether or not he should take it. He decided If she had wanted to do anything to him, she wouldn’t have bothered waking him up. And the water would help. Tentatively he reached out and accepted the offered water. Apparently he’d been more thirsty than he thought the way he gulped it down.
“Thanks,” he gasped when he’d finished. The intense rage he’d been feeling when he’d entered the bar was starting to dissipate. He was still angry but tired angry and feeling more than a little stupid. He rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the mostly drank cup of water. If he didn’t want to talk to his brother, why on Earth would he want to talk to a complete stranger?
“I was looking for a fight,” he heard himself say before he realized what he was doing. “I wanted to fight.” Which would explain why he’d started shit with the biggest guy in the bar he could find. He looked up at Carolina, eyes narrowing again. “And I had one until you clocked me.”
“Thank the bartender. He’s the one who gave me the water.” Even after the kid had caused Carolina to spill her beer over both of them. If nothing else, she would make sure the kid apologized to her favorite liquor pourer for that. Speaking of, she would have to change into some of her gym clothes before driving home if she did not want her car to smell like beer. She did not have all that far to go, but it was far enough. Plus, she wanted to be able to stop for more ice without arousing too many questions regarding her sobriety.
“If you wanted a fight, you should’ve gone to the gym, not the bar.” Carolina shifted her weight, crossing her arms and looking down at the kid. “The people there hit harder and you don’t end up getting innocent patrons hurt in the process.” Like herself, for instance.
“And if you do start a fight, you should make sure you damn well finish it.” She could not help but want to lecture the man who had ruined her night of calm drinking and good conversation. He may be angry at Everything, but dammit she was angry at him. And the Dreams. And the damn bruise covering most of her side. And the stupid fucking Director who was probably going to discard her, again.
“I was going to finish it!” Joe bit back. “You stepped in before I had the chance!” It didn’t matter to him that he would have lost and probably had gotten a good beat down in the process. It hadn’t been the end result that he was after, just the act itself. The act of hitting something, someone, hard enough to hurt the same way he did was what he’d wanted. He wasn’t going to get that a gym. It was self destructive, he wasn’t even kidding himself, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need a lecture. He could go home and get one from Frank if he wanted. And he really didn’t. “I didn’t ask you to help me. Look, I’m sorry you got splashed. I’ll pay for your shirt.” Adrenalin had stopped coursing through his veins and his body was starting to ache. He was tired and angry and miserable.
He stood up from the bench and reached for his wallet. His job at the garage paid him pretty decently. Aside from helping Frank pay bills and making sure their pantry wasn’t bare, Joe had very little he had any desire to spend his money on. Not anymore. He dug out enough cash to cover the shirt and the drink that had been splashed on her. He held out the small wad of cash towards the red head.
Carolina arched an eyebrow at the cash. She took the wad, pulled out two bills and held the rest back out to him. Shepard paid her well and she had more than enough saved to get a new wardrobe, much less another shirt, but it was the principle of the thing. Most likely she would end up adding the money to the bartender’s tip the next time she went in. “Take the rest of that to the bartender. His shirt also got splashed.”
The blond man was practically hissing at her. What in the hell had happened to this kid to make him so damn angry? A particularly strong wind made her shiver involuntarily. The night air was cool and having a wet shirt was not making it any warmer. Didn’t this place know what summer was? She wanted to go home. She wanted a beer. Carolina looked at the cup in the kid’s hand and bit back a sigh. This would be so much easier if she were a nice person instead of… whatever she was.
“I didn’t help you, kid.” Green eyes narrowed into slits. “I finished your damn fight. If you’re going to drag in half the room, you have to be prepared for them to fight back, not just get pushed into the bar. If you still don’t get that, put that money away and I’ll give you that fight you’re looking for.” She was bruised, sore, and had already been sleeping with ice packs against her side, but she would be damned if she let some snot-nosed kid get the better of her in a fight.
Joe frowned slightly - well, frowned slightly more - when the red-head only took a few bills and handed the rest back to him. He was trying to apologize here, goddamit and she just slighted him. She had stopped the fight he’d wanted and now she was insulting his money. He’d already planned to make it up to the bartender, but not tonight. There was no way he was going back in there now. He doubted very much he’d even make it to the bar. He grunted a “fine” and stuffed the rest of the case back into his wallet.
Water was still dripping down the side of Joe’s face and his shirt was wet now too, but he didn’t notice the chill in the air. At the woman’s words he bristled again, his shoulders tightened and his fists clenched. “I didn’t need you to finish it!” He yelled at her. “I wanted them to fight me. Didn’t you hear me the first time?! I don’t care if I would’ve won or not, I just had to fight something!” The uptick of his voice marked a desperation that surprised even him. He was used to fighting the things that pissed him off, either with his fists or his skills as an investigator. Being angry at Everything meant he had nothing physical to punch or hunt down. He’d been given his chance at that in New York and he’d blown it. The two things he had relied on the most in his life had let him down and through them he’d let Iola down. And now whatever stupid power in Orange County Zatana had warned him about was torturing him for his failure by bringing Iola back only in his Dreams. Joe felt as though he were going crazy.
A cold lump had formed in his throat so hard that Joe had to gasp in order to breathe. His hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his arms were shaking. The cold hard glare he’d been giving the woman earlier had turned into a more wild eyed look. “You want to fight me, now?” She’d her chance to fight him in the bar, but instead she had ended it. Now she wanted to fight him?!
“Fine!” He snapped at her as he assumed a well practiced and well used fighting stance. Joe was no stranger to a good brawl. “I can pay you back for hitting me from behind.”
“You don’t care if you’d win? Kid, that’s not fighting, that’s just wanting to get punched.” Carolina had not entirely expected the kid to take her up on her offer, much less actually assume a proper fighting stance, but there was no way she was backing down. He might not care about winning, but she did. Even if they had to scoop her up in an ambulance later, she would damn well win.
The stance he adopted surprised her. She had assumed the idiot had been drunk enough to pick a fight with the wrong people, but apparently he had just wanted a brawl. Carolina cracked her knuckles. Well, he’d get one. At least until he got in a lucky hit to her side. She tossed her purse onto the bench where he had been sitting. He also had not refused to fight a girl. He was a good kid. Dammit. Even good kids deserved a beating every now and then.
Raising her arms, she adopted a southpaw martial arts stance. She was more practiced in the other direction, but her left side was currently garbage and she wanted to protect it as much as she could. One good body blow to the wrong side and this would be over before she could throw her first punch.
Carolina’s face smoothed over as she readied herself for the fight. Her breathing deepened and her attention focused on her opponent’s center. On the bright side, it looked like his temper was as easily fanned as hers. “Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re worried about hitting a girl.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. Instantly he observed and noted what she was doing. Frank practiced karate and he and Joe had spared on occasion, mostly so they could get practise fighting against a style they were unfamiliar with. Detective work could be damn dangerous, even when you were a teenager just looking to get a good story. Joe didn’t recognize the starting form of whatever martial arts the red-head practiced, but he did note that the stance favored her left side, the opposite hand she had used to give him the water. Odd. One explanation was that she had been trained that way. Unlikely. Another explanation was that she thought Joe wasn’t a threat and intended to toy with him by not using her dominant side. Possible. Another possibility was that she was protecting her right side. That seemed the most likely explanation.
Joe had wrestled in high school and college. He favored the freestyle form, and he used his training whenever he brawled, incorporating holds, throws and submission with his punches and it appeared he was going to have to do so now.
First and foremost he was going to find out just why she was protecting her right side. He initiated their confrontation with a move as if to grab her on her left to open her up to a jab to her right.
In the Marines, Carolina had earned a third degree black belt in the mixed martial arts system used by the most deadly soldiers around the world. Granted, that had not been with the injuries she was currently sporting. The moment he got a hold of her left side, she was screwed. I guess that just means I’ll have to finish this with the first move. She let out a slow breath and watched, waiting for him to come to her. She did not have to wait long.
As her opponent reached her, Carolina bent her knees, dropping below the grab. The man was taller, which hopefully meant it would be harder for him to follow her into the lower martial arts stances. She stepped forward with her left foot and twisted, dodging the grab by pushing against his arm with the side with her shoulder. The movement would allow her torso and legs to back up the force instead of just relying on her left side. She wound her right arm up and through the man’s outstretched left. Her hand pushed his shoulder back and to the side while her left leg acted as a pivot to trip him down to the ground.
She was better than she looked. Joe realize his mistake in accepting the red-head’s challenge just as she crouched down and his arms breezed over her head. She was fast, faster than he was. She was also stronger than she looked. Joe realized that the moment she grabbed his arm and the next thing he knew he was headed for the ground. This hadn’t been the fight he’d expected, or wanted. It had been a classic take down, a little reminiscent to the type of take-downs Joe had seen the members of the NYPD use, only more martial arts and less yelling to “get down!” and to “get your arms behind your back!”
Joe may have been down, but he wasn’t out yet. He was a brawler by nature, and he may not have been looking to win a fight, but he was going to at least get in one jab before the redhead proved her point, whatever it may have been.
His right arm was still free and as he went down, he used that arm to shove into her shoulder. He also brought his knee up in an attempt to clip her as she pinned him down.
Carolina followed the motion of the throw, doing her best to pin the kid to the ground as fast as possible. Unfortunately, the nature of the move left her left side wide open. Normally, a knee kick to the side would have barely phased Carolina. Sure, it would have hurt, but it would not have made the arms pinning down the rest of the kid waver. Tonight, however, with the multi-colored bruise climbing up her side like a sweet potato vine, courtesy of one very frustrating dream, the pain caused from a knee to the side was almost enough to make her blackout.
With a cry, she landed sprawled on top of the kid, body curling into the fetal position. “Fuck!” She deserved this for trying to brawl like a headstrong brat. Thank god no one she knew was around to tell her ‘I told you so’. Before the spots had disappeared from her vision she was already bringing her elbow downward, not caring where on the man she hit as long as she hit him hard.
Joe had apparently been right in his earlier thoughts about the red-head favoring her left side. He had hoped to use that against her, but he hadn’t expected her to cry out in his face and land on top of him. She was smaller than he was, but she didn’t exactly weigh nothing. Her added weight to the throw made him hit the ground a lot harder than he normally would have. Air left his lungs in a whoosh and his neck screamed at him a reminder that not long ago he’d been hit there with a pool cue.
His reaction to her landing on him was knee-jerk. With his free arm he shoved her off, but not before her elbow connected with his cheek right under his eye, causing another round of stars to explode in his vision.
For a moment Joe laid where he was, somewhat spread eagle, blinking the spots out of his eyes and catching his breath. What the hell was he trying to prove? Without looking at the red-head next to him he asked, “Ya done?”
Done? Carolina was still curled up beside the man, but at his words, her head snapped back to his face. Was she done? Probably. Was she going to admit it? Hell no. Cradling her side, she carefully stood up. Another hit like that and she’d have to be driven home or to urgent care. Hopefully the former, as she did not want to deal with trying to explain to the Orange County health system why she looked like she had been in a hit-and-run accident but had not reported it to the police.
Her bangs had fallen in front of her face, blocking part of her view of the strange, but she did not have any spare energy to care. “Are you done?” She countered. The man had been the one wanting a fight in the first place, after all. This is the last time I bully someone into a fight just to help him clear his head. Unfortunately, this was the only way Carolina knew of to get through to someone in the shortest amount of time. There was likely something wrong with that line of thought, but she would consider that at a later date. Maybe she could get Max to help her with a less violent approach to calming people down. It certainly had worked on her.
Yeah, he was done. His body was slowing down and pain was setting in making fighting less and less desirable. However, like the red-head, he wasn’t about to admit defeat. Not to a complete stranger. “Hell no,” he panted. He pulled himself to his feet. He swayed a little, but settled into a fighter’s stance again. The red-head’s left side was her weakness, but Joe found he didn’t want to attack on that side again, even though a single jab would put her down, probably for good. It was a cheap way to win. That being said, Joe had a feeling that if he pulled his punches the red-head would only get mad at him. He had to make this look good.
Which was easier said than done. Joe was tired and his body ached in places or down right hurt in others. His next attack, a grapple, was sloppy. A novice would have easily been able to break it. Joe could hear his old high school coach in his ear yelling at him to get his act together. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t get his act together, if he could then he wouldn’t be out here wrestling with a complete stranger. Joe was giving up. On the fight?...on life?...both? Either way it was an odd sort of sensation, sort of liberating and disheartening at once.
Carolina cursed as the kid stood up again. “You don’t know when to give up, do you, kid?” Jesus Christ, this is not going to end well. It looked like her elbow to his face was taking its toll, leaving him unbalanced even as he took up his fighting stance again. In reply, Carolina assumed her southpaw stance, although she could not straighten her torso as much as she had before. She tried to take a deep breath but ended up wincing instead. So much for calming her center.
Luckily for her, the next attack was not nearly as precise. She decided to go for it and hope that her blow would connect before he could throw her to the ground. Her left hand dropped, protecting her injured side as her other fist aimed a right hook at the man’s jaw. If this did not work, she was going to make sure she got the kid’s name and in three to four weeks she was going to find him again so that he could get the fight he wanted. She owed him that much.
Joe knew he had left himself open for the attack, however, he wasn’t moving quite fast enough to avoid it. He jerked his head back, but not quite far enough. Her fist still connected against his chin with enough force to cause his teeth to click together hard and a kind of ringing to explode up his jaw. The momentum of her punch and the effort to jerk back caused Joe to stumble and let go of his hold. He tried to remain upright, however, his feet had gone somewhat stupid. He tripped over his own feet and fell backward on to the pavement.
Winded, hurting, tired and with his head spinning, Joe struggled to get to his feet again desperately only to fall back on to his side.
Just as she had been taught by countless masters, Carolina followed through with her punch, even after it connected. Her torso twisted with the movement and sent a wave of pain jolting up her spine and back down her leg. That, combined with the grab was enough to pull her forward and throw her off balance. Her feet buckled and her knees hit pavement with enough force to make her hiss. She watched as the kid fell in front of her. At this rate, neither of them would be left standing, but she was not about to give in and let him win, dammit.
The new burst of pain was enough to siphon her body’s attention away from her side long enough for Carolina to stagger to her feet. Green eyes looked down at the man as she worked on steadying her breath. “Still want to fight, kid?”
Joe was still trying to get to his feet. The combination of being cracked on the back of the neck, elbowed in the face and then punched in the jaw was catching up with him and making getting his balance back nearly impossible. The desire to fight was still there, burning deep within, a primal sort of need that demanded attention. However, Joe’s body was done and refused to cooperate. He couldn’t seem to get his feet under him. Every time he tried sent him right back to the pavement.
Carolina watched the man struggle for a bit before sighing. That was enough of an answer for her. She was the last one standing, but the taste of victory was more bitter than the hops in the beer staining her shirt. He had fought better than she had thought he would and she would definitely be smarting in the morning. The kid had talent. She limped more than walked over to the man where he had fallen on his most recent attempt to stand. Without a word she extended her hand out to him.
Joe looked at the extended hand as if he wasn’t really sure what it was at first, and then as if he suspected some kind of trap. Finally, he sighed. All the fire and fight drained out of him, he wasn’t so proud as to refuse the offered help to his feet. At this point, he didn’t have much in the way of pride at all. He accepted the offered hand and finally was able to get to his feet.
He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to get back to the bench where he sat heavily. He didn’t speak. What on Earth was he going to say? He balanced his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his face, wincing when his fingers brushed over the spot the red-head had elbowed. It was going to be a brilliant shade of purple in the morning. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining the bruise to Frank in the morning.
Carolina bit back the small grunt of effort as she pulled the kid to his feet. Thank god. He had been suspicious of her hand, but had eventually taken it. She was not about to try something as petty as tripping someone who was down. At least not without a good reason. She had actually wondered if he was going to pull her down instead, but had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. She waited until he had sat down on the bench before making her way over there as well.
She watched him wince out of the corner of her eyes. She knew that wince. “Frozen vegetables. Best ice packs money can buy.” Carolina leaned back, letting her head rest against the side of the building. Moving sounded like a horrible idea, but the craving for a cold beer would likely overshadow the need to be still sooner rather than later. Beers were also fantastic cold compresses.
Then again, she was not sure even her good rapport with the bartender inside would let the kid back in for anything more than paying his tab. Damn. Carolina could be cold when she needed to, but she was not cold enough to beat up a kid and then leave him to his own devices just for a beer. She did not doubt that the kid could use one as well. I really should stop calling him that. Guess that means I go first. Her hand went out to him again, this time in greeting. “Carolina.”
Joe glanced at her, again not seeming to understand what the offered hand was for. After a moment of consideration he accepted the metaphorical olive branch and shook her hand. “Joe,” he said. “I’d say ‘nice to meet you’ but you did just punch me in the face,” he added as he took his hand back. “Frozen vegetables. Yeah, I got a few bags of those. Was going to be next week’s dinner, but I doubt my brother’ll mind if I defrost them on my face first.”
Carolina shook his hand before going back to cradling her side. “I’d usually say you were asking for it, but I think in this case I was the one who asked if you wanted to continue.” She started to chuckle but stopped shortly after with a wince. Beer first, then ice. She was seriously going to look into a temperature-controlled waterbed at whatever new place she found. Or at least find a way to pump cold air into an air mattress. “So, why were you looking for a fight? Not that it’s any of my business.” Small talk seemed appropriate considering neither of them were going to be moving anytime soon.
“You’re right,” Joe answered a little too quickly, “It’s not.” He eyed Carolina and the way she was holding her side. “You should get that looked at,” he said a little softer, a little more gentler than he’d been speaking to her before. “Pretending it doesn’t exist and ignoring it isn’t going to make it heal any faster.” As if he had any right to talk. He looked away from Carolina and her injured side and focused his eyes on the pavement by his feet. He supposed he owed her some kind of explanation. He was quiet a few moments working up the will to explain himself.
“I don’t...I don’t know how to explain it,” he started quietly. “I’ve...been through a lot lately. I lost someone I loved and there was nothing I could do to make it right. I came to California to try and start over, but, I don’t think I can. Tonight it just...I don’t know. I hit some kind of breaking point or maybe I went insane. I just...wanted to hit something. Or maybe get hit.” He shrugged.
Carolina's jaw set at the mention of her side. She wanted to snap back that had not started ignoring her injury until Joe had started picking fights that knocked her into the bar, but she stayed silent. It was not his fault that her attempt at small talk had hit a nerve. In truth, she should probably have gone to a doctor when she had first woken up with the bruises. Instead she had downed a few painkillers and laid down on a bed of ice for as long as she could get away with. She had reasoned that there was not much a doctor can do for a bruised side and ribs other than give a prescription for opiates and tell her to rest. Maybe she would go now, considering she had managed to aggravate the injury by brawling when walking was still difficult.
Her eyes softened as Joe started speaking again. Carolina knew all too well what losing a loved one could do to a person. He may look like a kid compared to her brother, but he was definitely not one anymore. “I don’t know your situation and I’m not a shrink, but I can tell you that in my experience, there is no such thing as starting over. You can’t go back and erase your memories of that person, or how they have changed you.” Even now she could still see those dark eyes haunting her in her dreams, taunting her with a smile. “And frankly, I wouldn’t want to.”
She had been nearly driven insane just seeing York smile in her dreams while that particular memory had been on repeat, but that did not mean that she wanted to forget him. Carolina just did not want to be reminded of what she had lost every time she closed her eyes. “When I lost my…” What had York been to her, really? Her XO? Her lover? Her partner? The person who kept her sane? All of the above?
She did not know why she was telling this to someone she had just met, but it was hard to call someone a stranger when you had literally knocked them down three times. She cleared her throat and tried again. “When I lost someone I loved, it nearly destroyed me. But...the world kept turning, no matter how much I wished it would stop. Eventually, I figured that it was disrespectful to him to not try and keep turning with it.”
Joe winced. Carolina was right. The world had kept turning even after Iola’s death and it continued to turn. Joe didn’t see that he had much of a choice but to turn with it, but he wondered if he deserved to after failing her the way he had. The recurring dream every night, every time he fell asleep, a cruel reminder of what he had and what he had lost. It was a kind of torture every night of both happiness and pain.
He continued to stare at the ground in front of him. That cold hard lump had formed again making it hard to breathe. He tried looking for that anger once more, use it to quash this unforgiving ache in his chest, but he couldn’t find it. All that was left was a hollow emptiness. He didn’t want to forget Iola. The idea of doing so was terrifying.
He had no idea why he continued to talk to Carolina. Maybe knowing that she had gone through something similar just made it easier to do. “My fiance was murdered while walking home last Christmas. The murderer tried to rob her and she fought back, so he killed her. He stole her purse and her engagement ring. That’s how I found him. I tracked down the ring to a local pawn shop and was able to track the asshole from there. I turned him in. I expected justice, but he walked. He walked because of me. My involvement was considered a conflict of interest. I was a private detective, what was I supposed to do?! Sit around and wait for the over-worked and understaffed cops of the New York Police department to catch some kind of break?! Do you know how many murders go unsolved in New York every year? I couldn’t let that happen to Iola, to her memory. I had to do something. The guy’s lawyer was a piece of shit. He wanted to use this case to jumpstart his career. He singled me out. He put me on trial and blinded everyone to the fact that his client murdered an innocent woman in cold fucking blood.”
Of all the stories about lost loves, Carolina had not expected that. She could hear the hatred and the desperation in his voice as he spoke about tracking the bastard down. His body was sitting beside her in California, but she could tell that Joe’s heart was still very much back in New York, living through a dirge on repeat. He had placed his right to seek retribution into the hands of a system he had believed was just, but it had let him down. Now he could not even catch the asshole on another crime, because anything he brought to the police or to the courtroom would automatically be poisoned by the previous trial. It was a painful position to be in, and she felt sympathy for the guy. She would probably have been looking for a fight as well in his situation.
“You did what you had to do.” A compassionate person might place a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder, but Carolina did not know if the gesture would be welcome, even if she were the type to do so. “You can’t control how other people will react or what they’ll do with the information you give them.”
“I did,” he said softly. His eyes were still on the ground in front of him, but he wasn’t seeing it anymore. “But wasn’t enough. I should have been with her that night. She had called me that afternoon. She told me she and her co-workers were going out for drinks after work. She said I was welcome to join them. But I was busy working this case. This stupid robbery case for a contact I had on the force. I figured I’d just see her that night when she got home. But she never came home. Some random stranger found her in an alley. She’d been stabbed…” Joe swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat down. Instead it just grew bigger. He had no idea why he was telling Carolina, a woman he had literally just met, any of this. He hadn’t talked about the night Iola was attacked with anyone, not even his brother. And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t stop.
“I got a call around midnight,” he went on. “My contact on the force told me there had been an accident and that Iola had been taken to the hospital. I didn’t know she’d been mugged until I got there. I spent the night with her, just...holding her hand, talking about the wedding we were going to have. She never woke up. She died the following day. Nine forty-five am. The last thing I had said to her the day before was ‘I’ll see you later’.”
Joe fell silent. He had replayed that last conversation with Iola in his mind a million times, wishing he had told her something different, something more meaningful, but how was he to know that he would never speak to her again? How could he have known that evening would be the evening some depraved asshole desperate for money would corner her and plunge a knife into her chest?
“I’m sorry,” he said after a few long moments had passed. It was unclear what he was apologizing for, the fight he’d started in the bar or unloading his baggage into Carolina’s lap. Whatever the case, he was earnest in his apology. He shook his head, as if coming out of some kind of trance and got to his feet. “I should probably go,” he said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Carolina knew that it was sometimes easier to pour your heart to strangers because you did not care if they would judge or look at you with pity afterward. She hated that look. Getting punched in the face was better than being pitied in her books. Considering the way they met, it might be in Joe’s as well.
Carolina debated whether she was ready to stand up again as well. Probably not. Maybe a few more minutes, then she would limp to her car and head to her brother’s place. All of her ice packs were there. Shifting, her hand hit the cups that the bartender had given her. Damn. Still clutching her side, she grunted softly at the pain that inevitably followed her attempt to stand. The bartender would get his glasses back, but only in exchange for a bag of ice.
“As last lines go, that’s not bad.” She did not want to think about the last words she had said to York. ‘See you later’ might as well have been ‘I love you’ compared to the angry parting words she had given him. “Actually...it’s kinda sweet.” Carolina caught herself shaking her head. Sweet? What had gotten into her lately? Better to blame the dreams and nightmares than consider the idea that she might be going soft.
Reaching out, she lightly tapped a fist to Joe’s shoulder in a casual parting gesture. “Take care of yourself, Joe. And the next time you feel like fighting, do me a favor,” Green eyes sparkled in amusement. “Take things outside first.”