ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-10-09 22:35:00 |
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Kitiara knew that Killian was very good at his job. She had never been able to find even a whisper of her father when she’d been searching in her teenage and young adult years, and yet Killian had apparently found a location for the man. But she couldn’t reconcile the idea of the man she remembered as a child with some old doddering man retiring in Mexico. At least, not until she knocked on the door, Killian at her side, and the impressive man opened the door. He was still as she remembered, tall and broad, powerful, with the same mustache she always remembered. His hair now was more white than black, and his face was more lined than she remembered from over twenty-five years ago, but she recognized him as soon as she saw him and her heart nearly stopped. “Can I help you?” he asked, looking at Kitiara and Killian with a vaguely puzzled expression on his face. “It’s me,” Kit said, and she was embarrassed when her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, and more firmly, inserting her own power into her voice, she said. “Kitiara Uth Matar. Daughter of Gregor Uth Matar.” The man’s face clearly showed his surprise, and he glanced over at Killian. “You can leave,” she said tersely to Killian. Then, slightly more gently, she added, “I’ll call you when I’m ready.” And then she went inside Gregor’s house. She had barely been expecting Gregor to actually be here, which meant that she hadn’t come up with a good game plan, a thing she was kicking herself for. She never went into a place unprepared. But she stayed with Gregor for a couple of hours. She tried to keep herself calm, but ended up yelling more than she did talking, and was deeply embarrassed to have even burst into angry tears at one point. After a couple of hours, she called Killian to come get her. Mazatlán was about a day’s drive from where they were in the OC, and it was the inaugural trip for Killian’s new Mustang - plus, since Trump hadn’t built the wall yet it was relatively easy to actually get in to Mexico, especially for a crook like him. Their destination was honestly a beautiful city, the old houses and the seedier buildings restored and painted new. You could get a lovely place by the crescent-shaped beach for a cheap price, thanks to exchange rates - Kit’s father had no doubted ‘earned’ enough and then some to buy his retirement home, and settle into the life. As for Kitiara herself, dealing with her was like walking around landmines - but Killian had known her for awhile (she’d always been prickly) and he just kept in mind that this was a big deal for her. He knew how long she’d looked for her father, and honestly, how confused and angry learning that he was retired had made her feel. Ice in his eyes and an impassive gaze had been his only response before taking off and leaving her to her reunion - he’d wandered the beach, ducking into various cafes and enjoying the sunny weather. Then she called for him and he went to fetch her. He pulled up near the house, unlocking the doors. “Well, where to next, love?” he wanted to know. First he’d gauge her mood and expression, before asking how the meeting went. Home is what Kitiara wanted to say when she climbed into the car, managing to not slam the door behind her. Really, that was the only place she wanted to go. See Asami maybe, and fuck her senseless. Or Joe, maybe, who was far less confusing. Or just whoever she happened to run into at the bar, if she wanted things to be really simple. But she wasn’t a child, and she wasn’t going to go crying home. She wasn’t going to waste an entire drive to Mexico without taking advantage of the disgustingly cheap alcohol, and she certainly didn’t want to appear like a sulking little girl in front of Killian like she had with her father. “Somewhere with tequila, and a lot of it,” Kitiara said, staring out the window of Killian’s car. She was a little sullen, but so far she had managed to avoid punching anything which was generally a good sign. Tequila was always a safe bet, here in the glory of Mexico. Killian did his research (he always did, that was what made him good at his job - well, a lack of scruples tended to help too) and so he knew just the place. A bar that was located in an old mansion, three floors and a rooftop - the second was a dance floor, from what he understood. But a place that was rowdy with sawdust clinging to your shoes, only adding to the rustic ambiance of the bar, seemed perfect. Plus, they had pulque - and Killian had been really wanting to try it. Anything that tasted like fire was okay in his book. It was cash only, so he made sure he had enough - if there was any place to actually wear the hook for a hand it was probably Mexico but alas. The prosthetic still seemed to say ‘don’t fuck with me,’ along with his general dark and shadowy demeanor. “This ought to suffice,” he noted as he parked the car. “Come on then, we’ll get you a bottle of the good stuff.” Kitiara followed Killian into the bar, and sat down heavily at the bar. She only spoke a few key phrases in Spanish. Things along the lines of ‘Hello, how are you,’ ‘where’s the bathroom,’ and ‘give me my money now or I’ll slit your throat and leave your rotting corpse to the coyotes’ and so on. But she didn’t need a good grasp of the language to tersely demand a bottle of tequila. “He told me that he didn’t take me because it wasn’t safe,” she spat after a couple of moments, needing to get it off her chest. And maybe that was true when she was six, but he could have come back for her when she was a teenager. He could have come back to her once she started making a name for herself in the same circles he had run in. For Killian, it was definitely pulque - a drink that was thousands of years old (even older than mescal and tequila, the actual drink of the Aztec gods) couldn’t be wrong. He’d heard that it was one of those beverages that you could keep downing because it tasted so good, not even feeling drunker and drunker - then when you got up, your legs didn’t work. A jolly good time. But he also had to drive, so he wouldn’t get inebriated to the point of falling over. He was better at Irish Gaelic, French, and German - but knew a little Spanish too, enough to get by. Pulque, por favor wasn’t difficult anyway. Then he focused his attention on Kitiara once their orders had been taken. But he was glad she wanted to get it off her chest - this trip was one of closure, either way. “Sounds like a cop-out to me,” he lifted a brow. “He chose the life, not fatherhood. Even if it was unsafe, he still could have checked on you.” Or given a shit about his own daughter. “What’d you tell him?” The right side of Kit’s lip twitched upward at the cop-out comment. Pun not intended, she was sure, but she couldn’t help but notice it. “I told him that that was bullshit. That I could have handled the danger.” There was a bit more yelling involved than that, but Kit that was the cliffnotes version. Hell, Kit practically lived off the danger. Nothing made her feel more alive than knowing there were groups of people out there who wanted her dead or incarcerated. “Though, I did get a good hit in. His eye was already starting to turn black before I left,” she said, pleased, leaving out how she was now half-convinced he’d let her get the punch in, given how easily he’d stopped her next blow. It was probably true, Kit could have handled the danger - she had proven time and again that she was no wilting flower. Imagining her retiring was laughable, but who knew, perhaps when she’d gotten all she wanted from the life, she’d choose to settle in a place as nice as this one too. “Aye, wish I could have seen you deck him,” Killian chuckled, sipping on his drink when it arrived. Fuck him, that really did taste like fire - bless the Aztec gods, then. “If you want my unsolicited opinion, which I’m sure you don’t but - you’re like him in a few ways, I’m sure, and perhaps he taught you useful things. But you’re different where it matters. You took care of your family - and I think you’re quite a catch, Kitiara. If someone can manage to catch you,” he added, with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in those brilliantly blue eyes. Not like he was trying to get sentimental; merely speaking the truth, was all. “Do you feel a bit of closure, at least? Coming out here?” “I wish you could have seen it as well. Perhaps to snap a photo.” That was a memory Kit wished she had some kind of proof of. She was sure it would never fade from her mind, but it would still make her smile to be able to look back at photos of the moment. Still, despite how angry she was at her father, she couldn’t help but smile a little when Killian said she was like him. It was a comment that had always pleased her when she had been younger. Her own mother used to say she was all of her father, and nothing of her mother. “The best catches are the elusive ones, and no one has managed to catch me yet,” Kit said, giving Killian a wink. It really was too bad he was already involved. “It would have been better if I had come out here ten years earlier. But I am glad I came.” And then, grudgingly, she added, “Thank you, Killian.” For finding him. For coming out with her. It wasn’t all bad, being like Gregor. He was a criminal, but he’d made it this far and managed to live this long - you couldn’t argue that he was smart. And Kit was smart too, she’d learned many tricks of the trade. You couldn’t have a head filled with ice cream and puff pastry if you wanted to survive out there. If you wanted to make something of yourself in a very (sometimes literal) cutthroat world. “Better late than never,” Killian pointed out. “You’re welcome.” Sure, he got to charge a pretty penny for his services - but at this stage of the game, there was a certain satisfaction that also came along with helping people achieve closure and getting them the info they were after. At first it started out simply because he found he was good at it, but who knew he would one day find himself in a job where he also got some sort of fulfillment from it. Much better than something mindless down at the docks, anyway. “I suppose this trip was also kind of like the last big one before I cut back a lot,” he added. “I’m...Regina and I are going to have a baby. We’re adopting a little girl.” At the mention of having a baby, Kitiara’s face twisted into a look of distaste before she could stop it. It took her a moment to remember that some people actually wanted to have stinking, screaming babies taking up all of their free time, and that was obviously true in this case if Killian and Regina were adopting of all things. “Congratulations,” Kit managed, a little belatedly, though she managed a genuine enough smile. So long as Killian was happy and didn’t expect her to babysit, she was happy as well. “When are you expecting the little hellion?” Yes, he and Regina were due for sleepless nights, clothes stained by baby vomit, and those moments of frustration because why won’t she stop crying, but Killian did want this - he’d wanted it for awhile, ever since he learned there was the possibility Zelena would give her baby up for adoption. It had terrified him, surely, but deep down? He knew that embarking on this absolutely mad adventure was right. “Thank you,” he smirked, entertained by the look on Kit’s face. He would trust her to babysit, but no pressure to do that. They’d likely have a slew of other volunteers anyway. “We’re leaving to get her in a few days, and have booked a room at an extended stay hotel while we finish up all the final paperwork.” He’d also already arranged for them to conveniently have their names at the top of the list, at the adoption agency - it’d be a closed adoption, so Regina’s sister would never know that the infant’s mum was now her biological aunt. The less Zelena knew about Regina, the better. But doing whatever he needed to do, via connections with those he could pay off or owed him a favour anyway, or hackers to switch a few things around in computer files, Killian would do. He moved the pawns on the chessboard where he wanted them - it was a pirate skill but not just any pirate’s skill, the Captain’s. “Not that it’ll change a tonne or anything. I’ll still be by to visit my favourite tattoo artist, like I do.” “So soon?” Kitiara said, blinking in surprised. Of course, logically she realized that most people probably didn’t get much notice once their adoption went through. “I don’t allow children in the tattoo shop,” Kitiara said, though after a moment's thought she added, “but I suppose if you bring her by I won’t kick you out.” “How sweet of you,” Killian grinned, the pulque crawling through his system and making him a bit sloshy. “We’ll see what happens, no?” He was looking forward to this, of being a father despite how utterly nervous it made him. Could he do a better job than his own, than the complete awfulness of the useless drunk Brennan? Regina seemed to think so, and Killian was even beginning to believe it himself as well. Who knew, perhaps one day Kit would find someone she’d want to settle with as well - stranger things had happened. But rest assured, he’d tease her mercilessly if she ever found herself involved when it came to the heartstrings. That’s what friends did, after all. “Well, I wish you luck. You’ll need it, if you intend to get away without being shat on.” She could still remember with horror changing her little brother’s diapers when she’d been a child. Of course, since Killian and his woman were adopting a girl, she supposed that he wouldn’t have to deal with projectile piss. “But at least I’m sure you’ll do better than my own father.” She raised her glass of tequila. “Cheers,” she said. “To fatherhood.” |