Archive of Our Own

Gavin set the bottle down, moving with the exaggerated care that had become a habit over the past few… weeks? Months, now, he realised with a jolt of surprise, before he pushed all that aside to focus on the task at hand. Reaching for the towel, he gently wiped smears of milk away from Lance’s mouth, warmth spreading in his chest when the baby’s chubby cheeks dimpled and he let out a happy-sounding gurgle. Probably just gas, he chided himself, but that warm, soft feeling persisted. Spreading the towel on his shoulder, he carefully repositioned Lance in his arms, resting the small body against his chest. Once Lance was settled in place with his chin resting on the towel, Gavin gently patted him on the back, rocking him slowly back and forth. As always, something almost like awe flitted through him as he realised all over again how small, how fragile, how utterly dependent on him this child was. And, as it always was, that feeling was swiftly followed by a fierce determination. I’ll keep you safe, he promised, as he had countless times over the past few months. I won’t let anyone hurt you. (He’d fucking kill anyone who tried.)

“You’re good at that.”

The voice jerked him out of his thoughts, discomfort prickling his skin and scorching his face at the reminder that he had company. He’d been so lost in his own little world, so focused on Lance, that it had honestly slipped his mind. Pay attention, he scolded himself. You can’t do that shit. Not with her. Plastering an awkward smile on his face, he turned towards his guest.

“It’s not that hard,” he said. He shrugged before he could think better of it, and Lance fussed a little at the movement, quieting again as Gavin lightly rubbed his back. “And I’ve had practice.”

Iron Rain made a noncommittal sound, something like disgust flickering in her icy blue eyes before she quirked her lips into a lopsided smile, leaving Gavin doubting what he’d thought he’d seen. “How are the two of you settling in? I know this place is a fucking shithole, but it’s discreet. And Ray and Sharon are good people. Our people. And they certainly know how to keep the riffraff out.”

He nodded, remembering the time some misguided mongrel had actually tried setting foot in their café down below. That had been fun. Well, not for that fucker.

“It’s fine,” he hastened to assure her, trying to keep his gaze from flickinsg to the peeling paint, threadbare carpet and ratty, mismatched furniture. The cramped little apartment had definitely seen better days, and — thanks to the café — there was an ever-present smell of cooking oil and fried meat that not even the strongest air freshener could keep at bay, but it was his. His and Lance’s. “We’re fine. Thank you. I… I appreciate everything you’ve done. Everything you’re doing. And whatever I can do to repay your…” What? Kindness? Generosity? Investment? Fuck. His words had gotten away from him again. (‘What, cat got your tongue, boy? Speak up! Act like a fucking man for once in your miserable, pathetic life.’) Taking a deep breath, he lifted his chin and looked her squarely in the eyes. “If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, just say the word. I mean it.”

She leaned forward in the battered armchair, those icy eyes of hers seeming to bore right through him, like she could see into his very soul. Fighting the sudden urge to shrink away, to wrap his arms around Lance, he stiffened his spine and held her gaze. Her smile broadened until she was showing teeth.

“There’s something I need from you, Gavin. Something very important. Something only you can give me.”

His pulse was pounding in his ears, so loud he was almost surprised the windows weren’t rattling to the beat of it. He had to swallow before he could speak without fear of his voice cracking. “Name it.”

Instead of speaking, she got to her feet, shucking off the heavy coat he should probably have offered to hang up for her when she came in; might’ve done if he hadn’t been so floored by the fact that Iron Fucking Rain had come barefaced to his shitty little apartment and said she needed to talk to him. Letting the coat drop carelessly onto the arm of the chair, she reached up to pull off her thick, baggy sweater. Gavin jerked his head away instinctively, his stomach knotting as his face burned with embarrassment.

Iron Rain laughed, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he was imagining the cruel edge to the sound. “Look at me,” she commanded, and his head snapped around almost before he registered the meaning of the words. His gaze jittered over her arms and shoulders, lean and corded with muscle. So unlike his mom’s comforting softness or the step-bitch’s matchstick limbs (splayed and broken and painted the same shade of red as her cheap, whorish lipstick); so completely unlike any woman he’d ever known. Her face, with its high cheekbones and proud nose, the graceful sweep of her neck. Skipping over her chest to focus on…

“Holy fucking shit! You got knocked up?”

She laughed again, softer this time. “No shit, Sherlock.” Not bothering to pull on her sweater again, she started pacing back and forth. “I’m about three months gone. It’s going to be hard to hide it soon, but I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.” She whirled on him suddenly, clenching her scraped and split-knuckled hands into fists. “Tell a fucking soul before I give the word and I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you raw. No matter how strong and tough you are, I will find a way to fuck you up. Understand?”

“I understand,” he said slowly. “I won’t say shit, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good.” She seemed to sag a little then, some of the fire in her eyes dimming as she looked down at her rounded belly.

Lance started fussing again and Gavin absently shifted him around, gently rocking him in a way that had become etched firmly into his muscle memory over the past couple of months. 

“What do you need from me?” he asked, careful to keep his voice soft. “Protection? Because I can—“

“Fuck that!” She shot him a glare that felt like it should’ve burned him to ash. “I’m pregnant, I’m not a fucking invalid. I can protect my own damn self, fuck you very much. It’s not like I have to rely on being able to punch a motherfucker. I have other options.”

“I know that,” he hastened to assure her, once again resisting the urge to clutch Lance to himself protectively. “I just thought…” No, fuck, try again. “What do you need, then? Because I meant what I said, Rain. I owe you.”

To his surprise, she crossed the short distance between them to sit down next to him on the battered couch, leaning right up against him so she could peer down at Lance.

“I don’t know shit about babies,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And I don’t know anyone else who knows shit about babies, certainly no one who’d be able protect the brat if shit goes sideways.” She reached out a hand then, stroking Lance’s cheek with a gentleness he wouldn’t have expected from her. Lance’s eyes had been drifting closed, but they snapped open at her touch, blinking at this new and unexpected thing. He reached for Rain’s hand and she laughed softly as he clutched at it with his tiny, clumsy fingers. “Your son seems to be doing just fine in your tender care, so I thought, maybe…”

There was a small part of him that wanted to correct her, but as always he ignored it. It was just easier to let her assume, to let everyone assume. Besides, he’s still my blood; my family. The only family I have left. (‘And whose fucking fault is that, boy?’)

“You want me to teach you how to look after your kid?”

“Yeah. And…” She twisted suddenly to meet his gaze, her eyes so blue and so intense that he couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. “I want you to protect it when I can’t. I have… enemies, and there aren’t a fuck of a lot of people I can trust with something like this, but I think… I think I might be able to trust you.” She drew in a deep breath, and Gavin found himself breathing with her, still pinned in place by the force of her gaze. “So, can I?” she prompted when he didn’t respond. “Will you do it?”

He nodded jerkily, his answer not even in question. “Yeah. Yes, you can trust me. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” The words were barely audible, and Iron Rain relaxed against him as she exhaled them.

Another handful of seconds ticked by, and maybe it was her proximity, maybe it was this sudden strange feeling of almost kinship that seemed to hang in the air between them, but he found himself asking, “What about your family? Or the kid’s father?”

Iron Rain snorted, and the spell was broken. “My family are raging, pustulent assholes. I split from them before I realised I wasn’t upchucking every morning because of a fucking stomach bug, and I sure as shit don’t plan on giving them a chance to fuck with my kid the way they fucked with me. As for the father…” Her lips twisted in disgust before spreading into a feral, malicious smile. “Stupid bastard got ideas above his station; thought being my fucktoy actually gave him rank in my crew. He started taking liberties in my name, so I had to make an example of him. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said. (Red red red, everything was red, even Lance squalling in his crib, the sound of the baby’s panicked cries the only thing Gavin could hear over the roaring in his ears as he stood in the middle of all that red.) “I know how it is.”

Iron Rain nodded and stood, pulling on her sweater and coat. “Right then. I’ve got shit to do. Good talk, Gavin. I’ll be in touch.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“I can see myself out. No point disturbing your son any more.” She turned on her heel and strode to the door, pausing on the threshold to grin back at him over her shoulder. “Oh, and Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Liz.”

“Okay… Liz.”

And then she was gone.

“I fucking hate this,” Liz practically snarled, rubbing at her lower back as she prowled around Gavin’s living room like a tiger pacing its cage at the zoo. “My tits hurt, my back hurts, my feet hurt, my ankles are swollen to fuck and back and my centre of gravity is completely off. All thanks to this goddamned parasite!” She glared down at her swollen belly like she really and truly hated it.

“It’ll be over in another couple of months,” Gavin offered cautiously, absently catching hold of Lance’s spoon before the boy could hurl it to the ground, sighing when he saw how much food he’d managed to splatter everywhere but where it was supposed to be. “Come on, Lance. It’s supposed to go in your mouth, not on your face.”

Liz sank down onto the sofa, swinging her feet up onto it with a groan as she stretched out. “I don’t know if I can stand another two fucking months of this. It’s alright for you. All you had to do was pump and dump. You didn’t have to have to cope with this… this thing growing inside you, fucking up your body.” She turned that fierce glare on Gavin then, and it was all he could do not to pick up Lance and pull him close, food-smeared face and all. “You know, sometimes I really fucking hate you for that.”

He didn’t have the first clue what to say to that, so he said nothing at all, focusing his attention on wiping Lance’s little face off with a cloth and putting the spoon back in his hand, guiding it into the bowl and then into his mouth. “Good boy,” he murmured distractedly.

“Fuck!” Liz yelled.

The sudden loud sound startled Lance enough to make him jump. A moment later, he started to scrunch up his little face in a way that always heralded tears, and Gavin hurried to lift him out of his high chair, holding him close and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Lance. It’s okay.” (‘Stop coddling him, woman. Joanna did that with Gavin and look how he fucking turned out. Snivelling little pissant. Just let the boy cry.’ Fuck off, Dad. You’re dead. You don’t get to tell me shit anymore.)

“Shit.” She spoke more quietly this time, practically sighing the word. “Sorry Gav. Didn’t mean to upset your kid.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the knot in his chest unclenching a little bit. It unclenched a little more when Lance started babbling happy nonsense, the incipient tantrum apparently averted. “This pregnancy shit is fucked up.”

“You’re damn right it’s fucked up. I mean, who the fuck thought it was a good idea to have to squeeze something the size of a melon out of an opening the size of a lemon? Shit’s fucked seven ways from fucking Sunday.” She didn’t say anything else, so Gavin turned the bulk of his attention back to Lance, settling him back in his high chair and encouraging him to feed himself. It wasn’t until Lance had gotten a few more spoonfuls into him — and dumped a few more down his front and onto his tray — that she said. “I just hope it’s worth it in the end.”

“It is,” Gavin surprised himself by saying; surprised himself even more by how deeply that feeling had taken root in him. “It really fucking is. There’s no feeling on earth like being a parent.”

“Easy to say when you’re not the one who has to carry the thing.” But the words were soft, without the bitter, angry edge she’d had before, and Gavin felt himself relax a little more. She sighed loudly, shifting around on the sofa like she was trying to find a way to get comfortable. “I just… I fucking hope you’re right.”

She sounded weirdly uncertain, and young, and almost nervous in a way he’d never heard her sound before. It struck him then that she wasn’t all that much older than he was. She was normally so confident, so commanding, that it was easy to forget that. But here, like this, she seemed almost… vulnerable.

Unease slithering beneath his skin like a nest of snakes, he heard himself say, “It’ll be okay, Liz. You’re gonna be fine.”

Her head snapped around to face him, her eyes wide and startled for the briefest moment before they narrowed again, a smirk spreading across her face. “Of course I am,” she said, so cocky and confident that Gavin started to doubt the uncertainty he thought he’d seen. Rolling to her feet, she prowled towards him, staring him down the whole time. “I’m Iron fucking Rain and I can do whatever the fuck I want. You got that, Gav?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Good. Now what’ve you got to eat around here? I’m fucking starving.”

“Fuck this shit,” Liz groaned as she struggled to get a grip on the squalling, squirming infant in her arms. “Astrid, stop being such a goddamned gremlin and settle the fuck down. Astrid. Astrid. Stop wriggling, you fucking brat! What the fuck is wrong with you? What the hell do you need?” She shot Gavin a frustrated look. “Little help here? I think my baby’s defective.” Gavin couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, and her eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. “Gav, are you laughing at me?”

“No, ma’am,” he lied shamelessly, still chuckling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Liz proceeded to direct an impressive torrent of profanity his way, but that only served to make him laugh harder.

“Fuck!” Lance piped up enthusiastically from his playpen in the corner. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He bashed some wooden blocks together in time with the words, making it into a chant.

Liz broke off her tirade to laugh delightedly. “Oh, that’s just fucking precious.” Astrid’s wailing grew shriller, and Liz deflated visibly, holding the distressed infant out in Gavin’s direction and cursing again when she almost dropped her. “For fuck’s sake, just do something!”

“I’m not always going to be around, you know,” Gavin muttered, but he nonetheless crossed the room to sit next to Liz, carefully taking Astrid from her arms. “Easy there, girl,” he said soothingly. “What’s all the fuss about?” To Liz, he said, “You need to make sure you support her properly. Like this, see? If she feels like she’s going to fall then that’s going to scare her, and right now she only has one way to let you know something’s wrong.”

“By bursting my goddamned eardrums, apparently. There sure as shit isn’t anything wrong with her lungs, I can tell that much. So, what’s she trying to tell us? Please tell me she doesn’t need her diaper changing a-fucking-gain. I’m still traumatised from the last time.”

He checked. “No, it’s not that.” Now she was cradled against his body, Astrid’s shrieks had quieted to mere cries and disgruntled noises, and when Gavin lightly stroked her cheek, she turned towards his hand, gumming insistently at his finger. “I think she’s hungry.”

“Ugh, already? She’s going to wear my fucking nipples down to nubs at this rate. Okay, give her here.”

Gavin did as she asked, narrowly stopping himself from reminding her to make sure to hold Astrid properly this time. Fortunately, she’d seemingly taken his words to heart, and Astrid was soon nestled securely in her arms. Shifting back on the couch, she unceremoniously yanked up her tank top and reached for the hooks on the front of her bra. Gavin snapped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, launching himself up off the couch and halfway across the room.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” he muttered, striving for matter of fact and landing somewhere south of uncomfortable. His discomfort only increased in the face of Liz’s harsh laughter.

“For fuck’s sake, Gavin. I’m not some blushing maiden. You don’t have to try to preserve my modesty, or whatever. Honestly, if you didn’t have a son, I’d start to wonder if you were a blushing maiden yourself. Were you this fucking bashful when you made Lance?”

“Fuck off, Liz,” Gavin snapped, steeling himself to turn around and fix her with a glower. “I’m not fucking bashful. I’m just trying to be respectful, that’s all. You don’t have to be such a goddamned bitch about it.”

Fury flashed in her eyes and her whole body went rigid, Astrid making soft, unhappy noises as Iron Rain’s grip on her tightened just a little too much. Gavin had to clench his jaw tightly against the instinctive apologies that bubbled up in his throat, forcing himself to hold her gaze.

“Watch yourself,” she said tightly. “Remember who the fuck you’re talking to. You know how I feel about disrespect.”

(‘You’d better not be disrespecting me, boy. I won’t tell you again.’)

She held his gaze for a long, tense moment, and then relaxed again, turning her attention back to her daughter. Only then did Gavin let out the breath he’d been holding. “I remember,” he said quietly. He cast a surreptitious glance in Lance’s direction, but to his relief his… he was still happily playing with his toys, apparently oblivious to the recent tension in the air.

Her rage gone just as quickly as it had appeared, Liz flashed him a cocky grin. “You’re lucky I like you, Gav. Now come and sit down. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?” He did as she bid, carefully keeping his eyes on her face. “What is it?”

“You remember those fucking cockroaches that were making trouble for us over in Mason Green? Convincing people that they didn’t need to pay us protection money?”

“Yeah, I remember those fuckers. What about them?”

“I sent some of the boys around to explain the error of their ways, but apparently the lesson didn’t take. So now I need to make a few examples, and I want you there. You know how to send a fucking message.”

Anticipation made his heart beat faster, electricity dancing along his nerves, but he kept his tone casual as he said, “Sure thing, boss. Tonight?”

“Yeah. Ray and Sharon will watch the kids.” She laughed suddenly. “Fuck me, it’ll be good to cut loose a little. And to finally have a goddamn night off from fucking parenting!”

I don’t mind spending time with Lance, he almost said, but he swallowed the words down and grinned fiercely back at her. “You’re damn right it will.”

“Hey, Babysitter, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“The fuck did you call me?” Gavin snarled, clenching his fists as he bore down on the speaker, a  jittery methhead known as Squirrel.

Squirrel, who’d apparently burned out his survival instincts along with half of his brain, dancing back, stretching his thin lips in a gap-toothed grin as he let out a manic burst of giggles. “Would you prefer Wetnurse? Hey, hey is it true you actually suckle the kids yourself? You sure got the man-tits for— urk!“

Gavin yanked the fucker off his feet and shook him like a dog shakes a rat, feeling a grim satisfaction as Squirrel squawked and flailed his limbs in panic. (Even if Gavin wanted to punch him until his face was a red ruin, to slam him against the wall until he burst like an overripe pear, to wrap his hands around Squirrel’s throat and wring every last drop of life out of that scrawny body with his own two hands.)

“Say that again,” Gavin rumbled. “I fucking dare you.”

“Made me bite my tongue,” Squirrel mumbled, clapping his hand to his mouth. Gavin shook him again and yelped. “H— Hey, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Just a bit of fun, that’s all. C’mon man, let me down.”

“Whatever you say.” Gavin opened his hands.

Squirrel yelped again as he hit the ground, then glared up at Gavin. “Fuck you, man. Just… fuck you.” His eyes widened, and Gavin belatedly realised he’d taken a step forward, drawing back his foot for a kick, and in that moment he couldn’t think of a good goddamned reason why he shouldn’t just—

“Enough!” barked Nitro, Rain’s second in command. Gavin automatically snapped to attention, cursing himself as he turned to face Nitro — no, Brandon; fucker doesn’t deserve the respect of a code name — who was striding over to fix them both with a forbidding scowl. “Stop fucking around, you two. We’re supposed to be prepping for tonight’s mission.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing,” Squirrel protested, dragging himself to his feet.

Gavin’s narrowly managed to stop himself from burying his fist in the man’s gut, contenting himself with a glare and a muttered, “You need to watch your fucking mouth. Learn some goddamned respect.”

Squirrel flipped him off and scuttled away to the far side of the warehouse. Gavin started to turn away, only to be checked by Brandon’s hand on his shoulder.

“You really think you deserve our respect, Wetnurse?” Brandon said softly.

I could probably rip this fucker in half right now. I could kill all of them, and the only one who might be able to stop me is Rain herself. The woman in question was looking over at the two of them now, her expression utterly impassive. Without saying a word, she turned away again, the message delivered loud and clear. This was Brandon’s show and — until and unless he overstepped — she wouldn’t gainsay him. He’s her fucking lieutenant, after all, he thought sourly. I’m just her friend.

Looking pointedly down at Brandon’s hand before staring him directly in the eyes, he said, “My name is Throttle.”

(Maybe the ghostly pressure of the hands around his throat was just a little lighter this time, a little easier to brush aside. Maybe. Maybe he was just fooling himself that it would get better with repetition. Not that it mattered. He’d made his choice, and he would fucking stick with it, no matter how many regrets he might’ve had.)

Brandon’s lips twisted in a sneer. A chill wind swirled around the two of them, the temperature dropping noticeably. He let go of Gavin’s shoulder and started backing up. From anyone else, that might have been a retreat, but from him the action was a clear threat. The whole time, his eyes bored hatefully into Gavin’s. “What a waste,” he ground out. “How did someone so weak and pathetic end up with a gift like yours?”

Gavin’s vision flashed red (like the room, like his fists, like what was left of his father), his lungs seizing for what felt like an eternity before he could finally draw in a breath. “How dare you,” he said slowly. (If he wasn’t controlling himself so tightly, he thought he might just scream; might just start letting his fists speak for him.) “How fucking dare you. I earned my goddamned power.”

“Sure you did. Because murdering an old man and a girl barely older than you was such a fucking challenge.”

A raw, animalistic sound tore itself from Gavin’s throat and he threw himself forward. Brandon burst into motion a heartbeat later, rocketing through the air towards him. Gavin swung his meaty fist, but Brandon was just too fast, the breeze of his passage tearing at the skin of Gavin’s knuckles and forearm as he sped past and jerked to a dead stop, a wave of icy wind blasting out from the point of impact. Gavin’s lungs seized with the cold, a layer of frost prickling over him from head to toe. He shut his eyes instinctively; had to struggle to wrench them open again, needles of pain stabbing through his eyelids as some of his eyelashes yielded before the ice did. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but all that emerged was a wheezing, rattling noise that sounded nowhere even close to anything a human could make. Time fractured around him and he tumbled headlong through the cracks.

I can’t…

‘…told you about disrespecting me, you little…’

…breathe, I…

‘…should’ve shoved your ma down the stairs the moment she told me she was carrying you, instead of…’

…can’t breathe…

‘…bet you’re not even my…’

I…

’…correct my mistake…’

Flailing about in a blind panic, one of his arms collided with something and he grasped for it, his hands closing more out of instinct than intent. Bones creaked beneath his hands as he started to squeeze, and a muffled cry pierced through the machine-gun drumming of his pulse in his ears, jolting him out of the past and into the here and now.

And now I’ve fucking got you. Brandon.

He dragged the other man closer, releasing one arm so he could wrap one meaty hand around his throat. (Déjà vu tightened around his own neck like a noose and he bit down on his tongue, using the dull pulse of pain to keep himself grounded in the here and now. It’s getting easier, he told himself, like repeating something often enough could make it true.)

“Maybe this will help you remember my fucking name,” he murmured, pausing for a slow, deliberate beat before sneering, “Brandon.” Brandon choked, clawing at Gavin’s hand, and disgust coursed like acid through Gavin’s veins, scouring him hollow. “Pathetic,” he ground out, the word echoing in his mind, overlapping with memory until the world started to slip again, and he almost tightened his grip, stopped only by an impulse he didn’t understand until a loud crash echoed around the warehouse.

“Enough!” Rain’s voice rang out in the silence following the impact, and she strode towards Gavin and Brandon like a general, like a queen; like she had absolutely no doubt in her mind that any order she gave would be obeyed without question. Gavin was almost surprised to realise he’d already let Brandon go. Brandon stumbled a few steps away from him, coughing. (Gavin suppressed the urge to press one hand to his own throat.) “Save it for the enemy,” Rain continued. “If you’ve still got beef, settle it with a contest: whoever puts down the most uppity subhumans wins. You good?”

“Sure,” Brandon rasped, shooting Gavin a death glare before ostentatiously turning his back.

“Throttle!” she snapped.

(The name went through him like a lightning bolt, but he kept himself from flinching, telling himself that he was just twitchy from the adrenaline; that was all.) “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Everyone finish getting your shit together. I want to roll out ASAP.”

There was a general chorus of assent, followed by silence as everyone focused on getting their shit in order. Gavin checked himself over, cursing as he spotted hairline cracks over some of the exposed parts of his flesh. Now he knew they were there, he could feel the muted sting of them, like day old paper cuts. Fucking Brandon. He pinched the cracks closed as best as he could, reassuring himself that they’d heal soon enough. Or fix themselves, or whatever the fuck it was his body actually did to put itself back together when it got damaged.

Glancing over at Brandon, he caught the asshole looking over at him. They both sneered silently at each other for a moment, and then Gavin pointedly turned away. Fucking piece of shit. How the fuck could he possibly compete with that fucker for kill count? The bastard’s power was practically made for large scale carnage, at least once he charged it up enough, whereas Gavin was limited to whoever he could get his fucking hands on. He looked down at his hands, flexed them once or twice; clenched them into fists, anticipation electrifying his whole body.

Guess I’ll just have to make up for it with overwhelming brutality.

“Man, that was fucking awesome!” Rain… no, Liz crowed.

Her words broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the two of them after they’d parted ways with the rest of the gang to go and collect their hopefully sleeping children. They could’ve left it until the morning — Gavin had assumed they were going to, in fact — but Liz had apparently decided otherwise. She didn’t say why it was suddenly so important to her that she have her ‘squalling brat’ with her, and Gavin hadn’t asked. He’d been too busy trying to hide his relief at her unexpected announcement. He didn’t like leaving Lance with Ray and Sharon overnight. He couldn’t really explain it, he just felt more comfortable having Lance in the apartment with him, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that his boy was safe and well. (And if Gavin woke up in the night with his chest in knots — as he did more often than he cared to admit — watching Lance slumber peacefully helped calm any lingering jitters so he could drift back off to sleep again.)

Shit, I need to reply! Gavin realised belatedly, forcing a grin onto his face as he looked over at Liz. “You’re damn right it was. Those degenerate assholes won’t be sticking their necks out again in a hurry.”

“If they do, we’ll just smack them right back down again. But I think you’re right. We really put the fear of us into them.” She nudged him with her elbow, flashing him a crooked smile. “I loved what you did when that fucking idiot tried begging us to spare his son. He sure as shit was singing a different tune once the screaming started, wasn’t he? I almost wish you’d left one of them alive.”

“Next time,” he said, pride and disquiet warring inside him.

(He wasn’t fazed by the violence, or even by the killings — that weakness had been flensed out of him long before he got his… his gift; his reward. But the rage that had welled up inside him when that… that insignificant little insect had tried to intervene to save his son, the way he’d let it drive him into doing things he hadn’t meant to do… That fucking fazed him. I can’t lose control, he reminded himself, that image of Lance, sticky with blood and screaming his little lungs out flashing into the forefront of his mind. I can’t.)

“Next time,” Liz echoed, punching him on the arm hard enough that it might’ve bruised a normal man. “Mind if I crash at your place? I can’t be fucked to lug Astrid all the way across town at this time of night.”

“Sure, no problem.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept on the couch, or the floor. It wouldn’t even be the first time Liz had spent the night at his apartment, although he still didn’t understand why the fuck she’d willingly stay in a shithole apartment when she had a whole fucking house to herself, but whatever. He wasn’t in the habit of questioning her decisions and he sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

If Ray and Sharon minded being woken up, they gave no sign of it, almost tripping over themselves to assure Liz that Astrid had been a perfect little angel, and that they’d gladly watch her anytime she needed. For her part, she seemed to take their obsequious fawning as her due, which Gavin supposed was only right and proper. He just focused on soothing Lance, who’d partly woken up and was babbling fractiously. Fortunately, Liz didn’t seem inclined to hang around shooting the shit with them, and Gavin couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief as the door to his apartment closed behind him.

“Let’s get the brats settled, and then we can have a drink,” Liz said. “Have you got any decent liquor?”

“Just beer.”

“Ugh, fine. That’ll do, I guess. Remind me to get you set up with some good shit for next time.”

“Will do.”

Lance was still being fractious, but he went down easily enough once Gavin tucked him in with his favourite teddy bear. (‘The fuck are you doing, boy? Do you want to make him weak?’) Astrid was a little crankier, but she was apparently tired enough to doze off with a minimum of fuss. Once both kids had been settled down, by some unspoken agreement Gavin and Liz just stood there in companionable silence, watching their children sleep. Liz slumped against him, stifling a yawn. (He had the sudden, stupid urge to put his arm around her, but of course he didn’t. He wasn’t suicidal.)

“We’re making a better world for them,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, wondering uneasily what she wanted from him. (He hated it when she got philosophical. It always felt too much like an exam he hadn’t studied for.)

“My girl’s going to run this fucking city one day. And your boy will be right there beside her. Just like you and me.”

“Yeah,” he said again, taking care to keep his voice low, so as not to disturb the kids.

(He should want that for Lance. He should. It was a fucking honour. There was absolutely no reason for his stomach to drop through the floor and ice to trail down his spine; absolutely no fucking reason at all.)

“You know they’re going to get powers, right?”

He froze before he could stop himself (hands around his throat, scrabbling uselessly at that iron grip as his vision darkened around him), then made himself turn his head, forcing himself to show nothing more than hopeful interest as he said, “You think so?”

“They have strong blood, and we’ll make them even stronger. Of course they’ll be blessed with gifts worthy of their strength. Just like we were.”

His heart juddered in his chest, and it took all he had to force his face into a fierce grin. “Damn straight, boss.”

She returned his grin, but the look in her eyes was distant. He wondered what it was she saw. “If my father knew about her, he’d already be trying to work out who it would be most advantageous to marry her off to.” Her lip curled into a sneer, and he felt her shift against him fractionally, her muscles tensing. “Of course, since I’m now damaged goods, I’m not nearly such a valuable commodity. He’d probably gift me to some loyal subordinate or other, instead of a desired ally.”

“That’s fucked up.” The words burst out of him before he even realised he was going to speak, his hands clenching into fists as some nameless, razor-edged feeling twisted in his guts. It was all he could do to suppress a full body shudder.

“It’s what it is.” Moment by moment, muscle by muscle, she relaxed again, leaning forward to carefully stroke Astrid’s chubby cheek. “But I’m not a fucking bargaining chip, and I sure as shit am not a fucking trophy. I’m a fighter, and I’m a leader, and I will bring this city to its goddamn knees if it’s the last thing I do. If anyone dares to get in my way, then I’ll fucking destroy them, including my asshole family. And no way in hell am I going to let them get their hooks into my baby girl. You hear me, Gavin?”

“I hear you,” he murmured. “I fucking hear you, Rain, and I won’t let that happen. I swear it.”

“You’d better fucking not. Because if you let me down, I will make you suffer so much it’ll make your fucking ancestors scream. Even if I’m dead, I will find a way to get back to the earthly plane and make your life a living hell.”

“I believe you.” And he did; he really fucking did. If anyone could find a way to claw their way back from beyond the grave to wreak terrible vengeance upon her enemies it would be Iron Fucking Rain.

“Good. Now let’s go get that drink.” A short while later, they were both ensconced in the living room — him in an armchair, her sprawled out on the sofa — with beers in hand. Liz drained half of hers in one go, and Gavin followed suit, relishing the sharp, almost bitter taste of it. “I needed that,” she said, sighing. Twisting around onto her front — somehow managing not to tip the rest of her beer onto the floor in the process — she propped herself up on the armrest, fixing him with that direct, penetrating gaze of hers that always made him feel like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. “It’s good that you came along tonight. You made a difference. Sent a message.”

“Of course I came along.” Where was she going with this? What did she want from him? “I’m a loyal soldier.”

“Are you?”

It felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment, like the blood in his veins turned to ice — not that he had blood anymore — and needles pricked at his skin from the inside.

“Of course I fucking am. I owe you. You know that.” What the fuck was going on here? I bet it’s that motherfucker Brandon. He must’ve said something, done something, given her reason to doubt him. His heart had gone from being paralysed to pounding fit to burst, until it felt like his whole body must surely have been shuddering in time with his racing pulse.

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the cause, and your commitment to it.”

“I am committed.” It was an effort to keep his voice low so as not to wake the kids. “I was a… a fucking soldier for the cause long before I ever received my gifts.” (‘Stop stuttering, boy. Stand up straight and speak like a fucking man. Christ almighty, what did I ever do to deserve a son as pathetic as you?’) 

“So why have you been crying off so many missions lately? Why did I have to order you to show your fucking face tonight, when you should’ve already known it was going down? No wonder my men call you Wetnurse and Babysitter and Nanny, and…” He flinched inside with every single one of those fucking words, forcing himself to breathe slow and easy and not to clench his fists. “If you’d rather be a stay at home mom than a man, just fucking tell me, Gav. Because when you look weak, you make me look weak, and I won’t fucking have that. Do you understand me?”

Being a responsible parent isn’t fucking weak! And it sure as shit doesn’t make me any less of a man. But of course he knew better than to say any of that to her, and so he took a moment to shove his dented ego aside and consider his words.

“I understand,” he said, holding her gaze like his life depended on it. “And I’ll get involved more.” His survival instinct warred with his pride, and his pride won. “But I’m not fucking weak. Anyone who disrespects me will fucking regret it.”

“That’s between you and them. Just don’t damage them too badly. I need every one of my soldiers functional for the coming fight. And, Throttle?”

“Yeah, Rain?”

“Nitro is my lieutenant for a reason. If he gives you an order, you obey him like it came from me. And if he decides you’ve earned yourself a little discipline, then you suck it up and take your fucking lumps. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.” With that, it was like a switch had flipped, her expression melting into a yawn as she shifted position again to sprawl out on her back. Lifting her head, she knocked back the rest of her beer in one and belched loudly. “Not too bad,” she drawled, dropping the empty bottle onto the carpet. “Have you got anything to eat? I’m fucking starving.”

“I’ll check.”

He headed for the kitchen, detouring to snatch up her discarded bottle so he could put it with the others he was planning on turning in for cash. It didn’t bring in much, but it was better than nothing. The low murmur of the TV started up, and he took a moment to just breathe; to cast aside his iron self control so that the rage simmering inside him flared up into a raging inferno.

It isn’t unmanly to want to care for my… for Lance.

‘You’re making him weak, boy, just as weak as you are. You’re fucking ruining him.’

Go fuck yourself, Da! You’re dead! You’re dead and gone and I fucking killed you! So who’s the weak one now, huh? Huh?!

He was distantly aware of something cracking, of sharp edges cutting deep into the flesh of his hand, of liquid pouring over the cuts. He looked down, and for a moment all he could see was red, but then he blinked again and his vision steadied, resolving into the sight of his clenched fists. One of them closed around the remains of his beer bottle, the bottle’s contents dribbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” he murmured softly.

Still, this at least he could deal with. It was even kind of meditative, letting his body move on autopilot to gather up the glass shards and wrap them for disposal. There were one or two pieces stuck in his hand, but that was fine. It wasn’t like he bled these days, and he barely even registered the pain of the cuts — the cracks Nitro had caused had hurt more than this, not that it mattered. Not that any of this mattered. Pain was just an indicator of damage, after all; nothing more, nothing less. Message received. Now fuck off.

Once he’d mopped up the spilled beer, he washed and dried his hands. By that point, his fury had receded enough that he could force it back into its box, and he imagined sealing it tight inside his flesh as he pinched the edges of the cuts together and smoothed over the seams.

Just like it never happened. (Like he never fucked up. Like he never lost control.)

He glanced into the living room as he passed the door, only to pause as he realised that Liz had fallen asleep. Warmth kindled in his chest as he took in the sight of her, braid unravelled and mouth slightly open, snoring softly. Abandoning his search for food, he instead went to fetch the spare blankets and pillows.

Bet she wouldn’t fall asleep like that around fucking Brandon. And she sure as shit wouldn’t ask him to protect her daughter.

(He wasn’t worthless, and he sure as shit wasn’t weak. The old man didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.)

He might be her lieutenant, but I’m the one she trusts. So stick that up your ass, Brandon.

“She’s so big now,” Liz’s mousy friend practically simpered, the ends of her long hair dangling into the girl’s crib as she bent to tickle her stomach. Gavin could have warned her of the danger, but he didn’t give enough of shit about her to expend even that small amount of effort, and soon enough the inevitable happened. Liz’s friend squealed in pain as Astrid grabbed two handfuls of hair and attempted to shove them in her mouth.

Gavin rolled his eyes, ignoring the whole palaver to focus on wrestling Lance into his jacket and shoes. “No!” Lance said mutinously; his favourite word at the moment. What the fuck has gotten into him lately? “No, no, no, no, no!” He tried to run away, but Gavin put paid to that nonsense by the simple expedient of scooping him up in one arm. “No!” Lance yelled, drumming uselessly on Gavin’s shoulder with his tiny fists. “Don’t wanna!”

“Tough shit, kiddo,” Gavin told him, finally managing to get Lance’s shoes secured well enough on his feet that Lance couldn’t simply kick them off again.

Liz reappeared from the bathroom, frowning as she surveyed the scene. “Kay? What’s up?”

Right, that’s her name: Kayden. He honestly didn’t know what Liz saw in the prissy little chit. But the two of them were apparently best friends, or whatever, and so she was coming along on this little outing.

“Um, little help, Lizzie? Astrid’s got my hair.”

“Yeah, she’s a grabby little critter. But she’s just a fucking baby. Pull it free.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt her.”

Liz rolled her eyes, not that Kayden could see it. “Don’t worry about it. Kids are tougher than you think.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Gingerly, with a lot of wincing and muttered apologies, Kayden freed her hair from Astrid’s death grip, pulling a face as she saw how soggy the ends were. “Ew.”

Liz laughed, clapping her on the back hard enough that she stumbled. “Cheer up, Kay. It’s only a little baby drool. If you ever have spawn of your own, you’ll have to get used to being covered in worse fluids than drool. Believe me.”

Kayden laughed a little uncertainly, dabbing ineffectually at the ends of her hair with a handkerchief. “It can’t be that bad. You’re exaggerating, right?” She stepped out of the way as Liz strode towards the crib.

“If you bothered sticking around whenever I change her fucking diapers, or when she upchucks all over me because she sucks down milk too fucking fast, then you’d know I’m not. I have seen some shit, Kayden. Often very fucking literally.” Leaning into the crib, she picked up her daughter, adopting a gentle tone completely at odds with her actual words to say, “Come on, gremlin. Let’s go and get you ready. And if you spit up on me again, I swear you’ll fucking regret it. I do not have the fucking patience to deal with any more of your shit right now. Mommy needs a day off, so you need to let me get you washed and into your clothes so I can make you someone else’s problem for a while. Do you hear me, brat?”

Astrid giggled and made happy babbling noises, genially letting Liz manhandle her. Lance, on the other hand, seemed to have a real hair up his ass today. No sooner had Gavin finally got him into his jacket and set him down on the ground again, he tore off running through the apartment, screaming, “No no no no no!” at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gavin sighed, shooting Liz a baleful look as she laughed at his misfortune.

“What?” she said, smirking. “I’m usually the one who has to wrestle a recalcitrant hellion while you make this parenting shit look easy. You can’t fucking blame me for being amused when the boot’s on the other foot.”

“Watch me,” he muttered, ignoring the way she laughed even harder as he followed Lance’s trail. It was a literal trail, too, the boy having contrived to pull off his shoes, his jacket and even his pants, leaving them strewn across the floor like a weird fucking take on Hansel and Gretel.

Grumbling to himself, Gavin gathered up the discarded items of clothing and headed into the bedroom, where a muttered chant of, “No, no, no,” was coming from under the bed. Rolling his eyes, he dropped Lance’s things on the bed and knelt to reach underneath it, groping around until he got hold of one of Lance’s legs, gently pulling him out into the open. “No!” Lance yelled again as Gavin lifted him onto the bed, flailing around and smacking Gavin in the eye.

That was just the absolute last fucking straw, and before Gavin could think better of it, he’d drawn his hand back and walloped Lance three times across the backs of his legs.

Time seemed to freeze in its tracks. The world held its breath around him as Lance stared up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates… And then his face just crumpled, tears springing from his eyes as he opened his mouth and let out the most betrayed, the most heartbroken wail Gavin had ever heard in his life.

Shit, what have I done?

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Lance, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t mean it.” He reached out, his heart shattering in his chest when Lance flinched away from him. “It’s okay.” He strove to keep his voice soothing, even as shame and self-loathing burned like acid in his veins. “I just want to check… I need to make sure you’re okay.” As gently as he could, he pulled the sobbing boy onto his lap, checking for… for damage. He’d pulled his blows, he knew he had, but Lance was so small and so fragile, and bones were much, much easier to break than you thought, especially now he was this strong… But I didn’t break anything, thank the fucking Lord. (Nothing physical anyway, not this time.) Lance’s skin was a little reddened, but it probably wouldn’t even bruise. Probably. (‘What are you crying about, boy? I barely even touched you. Keep wailing like that and I swear I’ll give you something to fucking cry about.’) “You’re fine,” he mumbled, cool relief mingling with the stinging shame, but somehow managing to dilute it not at all. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ll never hurt you again, I swear it.”

He clutched Lance to him — gently, so very gently; holding that small body as if it was made of glass — and tried to comfort him as best as he could, mumbling soothing nonsense while his disgust at what he’d done solidified into a stone in his stomach. That stone grew heavier and heavier until he thought he might be crushed beneath its weight.

He didn’t know how much time had passed — it could’ve been a moment, could’ve been a lifetime — but Lance’s wails had turned into silent, whole body-shaking sobs by the time Liz called out, “You okay in there, Gav? I know he’s only little, but there aren’t that many places for him to hide.”

Gavin had to swallow hard before he could trust his voice enough to speak. “It’s fine. Just a little bit of a tantrum to deal with. We’ll be ready in a minute or two.” Forcing a lightness that he in no way felt, he added, “Looks like you were right about the boot being on the other foot today. Guess I won’t laugh at you the next time Astrid throws a shit fit.”

Liz laughed. “I’ll fucking hold you to that.”

This time, Lance didn’t struggle when Gavin dressed him.

Small fucking mercies, I guess.

Turned out it was actually possible to hate himself even more.

“What the fuck are you looking so glum about, Gav?”

“Huh?” Wrenched out of his thoughts, Gavin looked over at the smirking Liz, who was walking arm in arm with Kayden. He forced a smile. “I’m not fucking glum. I’m just thinking.”

“Well, get out of your damn head and buck the fuck up, boyo. The whole point of this outing is to have some goddamned fun, and I won’t have you bringing down the mood. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be the life and soul of the fucking party, don’t worry. A fucking social butterfly, that’s me.”

Kayden laughed suddenly, faltering and falling silent when he looked her way. He narrowly managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. I don’t bite, you pathetic bitch. Seriously, what the fuck did Liz see in this fucking drip of a girl?

Liz snorted. “Who are you and what have you done with Gavin? Whatever, just don’t harsh my vibe today. Come on, Kay.” She quickened her pace, dragging Kayden along with her. Kayden managed to get one of her stupid heeled shoes caught in a gap between the boards, because of course she fucking did, letting out the stupidest fucking squeak as she stumbled and almost fell. The only reason she didn’t end up flat on her face was because Liz caught her and hauled her up again.

“Thanks,” Kayden said, sounding embarrassed.

“Told you you should’ve worn boots,” Liz drawled, smirking at her.

“These shoes are cute,” Kayden said snippily. “Your boots look like something a construction worker would wear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Gavin trailed along behind them as they continued to bicker, Kayden showing far more spirit than he would’ve thought she had in her as she fought her corner, sparking in him a reluctant twinge of admiration. Whatever. She’s still arguing in favour of something fucking stupid.

Case in point: “What if you need to run? Can’t fucking do that in heels, as you just proved. Or what if you need to kick a motherfucker in the balls?”

“We’re going to the fair, Lizzie,” Kayden said, sighing dramatically. “And then we’re going to a party. Do you really think you’re going to get into a fight? Really?”

“Only if I’m lucky.”

Gavin laughed to himself, his amusement only increasing when Kayden threw her hands in the air and — despite the heels — made a respectable attempt at stomping off in a huff. Liz laughed and let herself be dragged along in Kayden’s wake for once. Okay, he conceded, maybe there is a reason Liz is friends with her. The two of them sure as shit couldn’t seem more different, though. Even the way they looked. Liz was tall and wiry, all whipcord muscle and coiled strength, dressed in black jeans and a tank top — also black — that showed off her biceps to perfection. Spiked bands adorned both her wrists, matching the spiked choker around her neck. And there were, of course, the aforementioned shitkicker boots. Unusually, she was wearing makeup, which was fucking weird and entirely at Kayden’s insistence, but even that didn’t make her look any softer. If anything, the dark eye… stuff and deep red lipstick and nail polish only added to her whole tough bitch vibe.

Kayden, on the other hand… She was wearing a green flowery dress and a pastel pink cardigan that looked way too fucking thin to actually keep her warm. Her stupid shoes were the same colour as the cardigan, and the whole ensemble just made her look slender and delicate and soft. (She reminded him of his mom, and of the step bitch, and in that moment he fucking hated her for that.) She looks like a fucking victim. But he had no fucking intention of pissing Liz off by talking shit about her friend, so he guessed he’d just keep his opinions to himself. Besides, if Liz likes her, she can’t be a complete waste of space.

They were close enough to the fairground that Gavin could hear the overlapping strains of tinny music overlaid with shrieks and laughter, could smell the mingled aroma of cotton candy, popcorn and meat that turned his stomach even as it made his mouth water. The sun had cautiously peeked out from behind the heavy grey clouds smeared across the sky, but not enough to counter the chill of the ocean breeze, the snap in the air making him glad of his jacket. And I’m not fucking giving it to Kayden if she gets chilly. He knew Liz would be fine, even in a tank top. She never seemed to feel the cold. And even if she did, she wouldn’t fucking complain about it. She’s not fucking weak.

“There they are,” Liz said. Reclaiming her arm from Kayden, she put her fingers to her lips and blew out a piercing whistle. The knot of people clustered together near the entrance to the fairground looked over — as did every other fucker in earshot — and she waved as she strode towards them. “Hey, assholes. Who’s ready to have some fun?”

Despite wanting nothing more than to make his excuses and leave (his need to be with Lance right now was so strong it was almost a physical ache), he made himself join in the greetings, shit-talking and general chat. To his surprise, it actually helped, the malaise that had settled over him like a dark cloud (the stomach churning shame at what he’d done to Lance) receding enough that he actually started to enjoy the fair. Sure, the games were shitty — not to mention rigged to fuck and back — the shows were cheesy, the rides had seen better days and the food was distinctly dubious, but it had a nostalgic kind of charm nonetheless.

(A memory fragment floated up from the deepest recesses of his mind: coming here  — or somewhere like it — with his ma. It had been so long ago he’d almost forgotten it, but he remembered the way she’d smiled when he gave her the cheap little bracelet he’d bought with his prize tickets. It had been so bright that for a moment he didn’t see the lines etched into her face, or the exhaustion in her eyes. In that moment, he’d found her utterly beautiful. In this moment, with that memory sitting in the forefront of his mind — rather than safely locked away with all the rest of his memories of her — it was like she’d only just died, like he could hear the old man’s gruff voice telling him that she’d had an accident; that she was gone. He missed her so, so much and… and… It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. She’s gone and she’s not coming back, so there’s no point carrying on about it. The best thing to do is just move the fuck on. Anyway, she was weak. She was weak and she was gone and he was here and he was going to have a good fucking time today if it killed him. Or someone else.)

He found himself relaxing more and more as time went on — the beers Tony and Bill passed around helped with that — and it was almost a shock to realise that he was actually having fun. I’ve missed this, he realised with a start. Hanging out with friends, shooting the shit. It was nice. He wasn’t sure who exactly started it, but soon they were all making bets about how well they could do on the rigged games, busting each other’s balls when they wiped out. Not even fucking Brandon’s presence was enough to sour the experience, although Gavin couldn’t stop himself from shooting the asshole a contemptuous look when he saw how the preppy fucker latched onto Kayden. Worse, she actually seemed to like the attention, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. The two of them fucking deserve each other, he thought sourly. Anyway, them making eyes at each other meant he actually got to spend time talking to Liz without either of them getting in the way.

“Gav, you have to try this,” she said, flinging one arm around him as she waved some unidentifiable deep fried thing in his face.

He eyed it dubiously. “What the fuck is it?”

“Deep fried Snickers. And it’s the fucking shit! You have to try it.”

“You’re… not selling it, Liz.” But she shoved it in his hand anyway, the grease dripping down the stick and onto his hand.

“Come on, Gav. Don’t be a pussy. Just try it.”

“I’m not a fucking pussy,” he growled, glaring at her.

She just smirked. “Then prove it.”

“I don’t need to fucking prove it.” But he took a bite of the thing anyway, holding her gaze the whole time. He felt his eyes pop wide as it just melted in his mouth, filling it with nougatty, peanutty goo. It was almost but not quite sickly sweet, the grease making it slide right down, nice and easy. As soon as he swallowed it, he found himself taking another bite without meaning to, taking his time to savour it.

“See?” Liz said. “What did I fucking tell you?”

He’d already taken another bite, and then there was only one left. It seemed a fucking shame to let that go to waste, so he ate that too, then tossed the stick in a nearby trash can, wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans. “It was alright.”

“Yeah, yeah. I saw the look on your face. Looked like you were getting a blow job from a fucking angel.” He suppressed a twitch, glaring at her, but she’d already turned away. “I’m going to get another one.”

“I don’t know where you put it all,” Kayden said, tearing herself away from Brandon long enough to look enviously at Liz as she bought another of those artery-busting things from the vendor. “If I ate that, I’d have to diet for months to get the weight off.” She started to say something else, but broke off to shiver and clutch her useless cardigan around herself as the wind picked up.

“Are you cold?” Brandon asked solicitously, because of course he fucking did, already starting to peel off his varsity jacket.

“A little,” she said, smiling coyly up at him.

“You should work out more, Kay,” Liz broke in. “Put some meat on your fucking bones.”

Whatever reply Kayden might have made to that was cut off by a new voice saying, “Not every woman wants to look like a wrestler, sister dear. But of course I don’t expect you to understand that.” And while Gavin was still processing that ‘sister dear’, the speaker — a blonde asshole who looked like he’d be more at home in a country club or a golf course than a fairground — stepped forward, shrugging out of his expensive-looking jacket and putting it around Kayden’s shoulders. “Hopefully this will help warm you up a little.”

If Kayden had been making eyes at Brandon, she was full on eye-fucking this asshole as she gazed almost worshipfully up at him, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Oh! Max. Thank you. But are you sure? I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, giving her the smuggest, most punchable smile. “Anyway, it would hardly be gentlemanly to let such a lovely lady suffer when I can do something to stop it. You can give it back to me at school on Monday.”

Brandon was staring daggers at the back of Max’s head, and Gavin was torn between a vicious satisfaction at how Max’s appearance seemed to have completely wiped his existence from Kayden’s mind, and a rare moment of sympathy with Brandon’s clear hatred of the fucker.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Max?” Liz demanded, her deep-fried Snickers bar dropping to the ground unheeded as she shoved her way into his space. “What the fuck do you want?”

Max opened his mouth, but Kayden got there first, “Don’t be mad, Lizzie. He just wants to talk to you, that’s all.”

Quick as a flash, Liz had whirled on Kayden, and the other girl quailed before the fury in her eyes. (There was fear there, too, but Gavin didn’t think anyone else would have even noticed it; let alone recognised it as the same kind of fear he saw in the mirror when he thought about anything bad happening to Lance.)

“You told him to come here?”

“H— He came to me, and he asked… He’s so worried about you, Lizzie. He just wanted to know you’re okay. He wanted to see for himself that you’re doing alright. So I… I told him we were coming here.” Liz’s eyes narrowed, and Kayden twitched. “That’s all I said, I swear! Just that you would be here, and if he wanted to talk, this would be the best time. And is it so bad, really? I mean, he’s your family, and—“

“I don’t have any family,” Liz said flatly, cutting off Kayden’s babbling. Flicking her braid over her shoulder, she turned back to Max. “I don’t need any family. It’s just me, and that’s the way I fucking want it.”

Max pursed his lips. “I’m sure mother and father would be terribly hurt to hear you say that,” he said, his words edged with disappointment. “They’re worried about you, Elizabeth, and so am I. We just want you to come home.”

Just say the word, Gavin willed her silently. Just give the order, and I’ll feed this asshole his own damn teeth. He was half surprised she hadn’t smacked him herself already, but then again family could be complicated. Some of the guys started to shift uneasily, but Liz and Max continued to stare each other down, her with murder in her eyes, him with an easy smile, and to Gavin’s utter shock Liz was the one who blinked first.

“Boys, take a hike. I’ll catch up shortly.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “This won’t take long. Kayden, you fuck off too. We’re going to have a talk later.” Everyone stayed where they were, seemingly frozen in place. “I said, move!” Gavin twitched into motion, only to freeze again when she said, “Not you, Gavin. You stay.” He nodded, moving up to stand at her side. Max didn’t even spare him a glance.

“This is family business, Elizabeth,” he said, like he was speaking to a fucking child. “It’s not appropriate for the help.” He spread his arms, making a big show of showing that his hands were empty. “You don’t need your guard dog. I promise I don’t mean you any harm.”

“He stays, or you go,” Liz snapped. “Take it or leave it. You’ve got five minutes. Now start talking.”

“Well, if you insist,” Max murmured. “I really did just come here to check up on you, Elizabeth.”

“It’s Liz.”

“Of course it is.” He made a show of looking her up and down, the tiniest frown crinkling his brow. “Why on earth did you dye your hair black? Far be it from me to criticise, but your natural colour is so lovely. You’re never going to be able to match it with bleach and dye. When Mother sees it she’s going to cry. And father will be so… disappointed.”

Liz twitched minutely and then clenched her fists, baring her teeth in a snarl. “Mom and Dad can go fuck themselves. It’s my hair and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with it. At least this way I don’t have to be reminded of all of you fuckers every time I look in the mirror.”

“Such crude language, Elizabeth. Still, it’s only to be expected. You’re not exactly keeping the best company these days.”

“Better than my fucking so-called family.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we’re all awful, and you don’t want anything to do with us.” He smiled thinly. “You’re still happy to take their money though, aren’t you? Happy to let them pay your rent.” What? “So tell me again how you don’t need them.” Liz surged forward, shoving Max hard in the chest so that he stumbled back a step. He caught his balance and sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Violence, Elizabeth? Really? I’m just trying to have a civil conversation here.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you were just trying to piss me off. Because that’s what you do, Max; that’s what you always do. You push and you push and you fucking push and then when I push back, you play the wide-eyed fucking innocent. The goddamned golden boy.” She shoved him again and he just rolled with it. “I know your game, asshole.”

“What game, Elizabeth? Do you even hear yourself? You sound utterly paranoid. Are you getting enough sleep?”

“And you sound like a snivelling little weasel who’s got his head so far up Daddy’s ass that when he eats you shit.”

Gavin snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself, earning himself a look of disdain from Max. Liz didn’t react at all, keeping her attention laser focused on her brother.

Max sighed. “Vulgarities aside, how long do you think this pointless little rebellion of yours is going to last? Sooner or later — probably sooner — it’s all going to blow up in your face, and it’s going to be so much harder on you to have to come crawling back knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re a failure. At least if you come back now, you can console yourself with the possibility — however delusional — that you might actually have succeeded.”

“Fuck you, Max,” she growled, shoving him a third time, and this time he only narrowly kept his feet. “You’re just jealous that I’ve managed to strike out on my own while you’re still clinging to Daddy’s apron strings. You’re jealous that people are flocking to my banner — mine! — not just to the cause. And you’re jealous that I’m actually doing something, while the only thing you know how to do is swan around at Dad’s parties.”

“Jealous? Of your… rabble?” He flicked a contemptuous gaze over at Gavin and then sneered at Liz. “Hardly. And if you weren’t such a thug, you’d understand the value of networking. But I see I’m just wasting my time trying to reason with you, so I’ll leave you to find out the hard way that I’m right. And when your house of cards comes crashing down, and you slink back home with your tail between your legs, I’m going to remind you that I tried to save you from yourself. Goodbye, Elizabeth.” He turned and strode away on his heel, pausing once to look back over his shoulder. “And do give my regards to your lovely friend Kayden.” Then he turned the corner, and was gone.

“Good fucking riddance,” Gavin murmured. He turned to Liz, expected her to do something, say something, but she stayed still as a statue, her whole body rigid with tension. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, having absolutely no fucking clue what he should say. Sorry your brother’s a raging asshole? Want me to go and break his fucking face for you? Or maybe, I thought you were just squatting in that house of yours.

“Fuck!” she screamed suddenly, spinning around and kicking a discarded beer bottle across the boards. It bounced a couple of times and then rolled onto the sand. People were looking at them, but all of Gavin’s attention was focused on Liz right now. “Motherfucking dogbuggering dick weasel!” She let out a wordless scream of rage and scooped up another bottle, hurling it way out onto the beach. “Fuck!” she yelled again. She stood there for a moment more, breathing like she’d just run a race, and then her whole body seemed to sag. She sank down onto a nearby bench, letting her head hang forward. “Fuck,” she breathed, so quietly Gavin had to strain his ears to hear it.

After debating with himself a moment, Gavin joined her on the bench, sitting as far away from her as he could. He waited a few moments, and when she didn’t speak, he cautiously asked, “You okay?”

“My fucking brother,” she muttered, directing her words towards the ground. “He always knows exactly what buttons to push, how to wind me up. And no matter how hard I try not to let him get to me, somehow he always, always manages it. Fucking asshole. Fucking family.” Sighing, she uncurled from her hunched position, turning her head to meet Gavin’s gaze. To his surprise, one side of her mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “Sometimes I wish I’d followed your example; just put them all out of my fucking misery.”

(Straining lungs and dimming vision, then nothing but red, red, red…)

Shoving aside whatever pointless fucking feelings might’ve been trying to rear their ugly heads, he managed a smile of his own. “There’s still time. Just say the word, boss, and I’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fucking tempt me.” She sighed again, and then dialled her smile up a notch or three, showing teeth. “Besides, if anyone’s going to take them out, it’s going to be me, and only after I’ve brought the city to its knees. I’m going to rub their fucking faces in my success before I end them.”

“Damn straight.”

The tension seemed to ebb then, and they just sat there a while in silence, staring out into the crowds. After long enough that Gavin was starting to consider asking if she wanted to go track down the others, she turned to him again. “So, have you got anything to say about me still taking their money?” There was an edge to the question, and it was clear that this was a test.

Trying to ignore the way his pulse picked up, the way his skin prickled with tension, he made himself shrug. “Nope. You want to bleed ‘em dry, more power to you. Why shouldn’t they pay for their sins, at least a little?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, and then, louder, “Fuck yeah! My thoughts exactly. Dad’ll probably cut me off eventually — once he realises I really have split for good — but until he does I’m going to gouge him for everything I fucking can.” She blew out a breath, lowering her voice again to say, “Besides, raising a kid isn’t exactly cheap.”

“Too fucking right it isn’t.” He tried not to worry about how Lance was doing with the sitter. (He tried not to worry that Lance would never forgive him for what he did.)

“Okay,” she said, rolling smoothly to her feet. “Let’s go find the others.”

“You got it.”

It didn’t take that long to track them down. Kayden was standing off to the side a little ways from the guys, chewing the end of her hair nervously as she huddled into the jacket Max had left with her. She looked thoroughly miserable, and the sight of it warmed Gavin’s heart. Traitorous bitch.

Brandon was the first one to notice their approach, or at least the first person to acknowledge it. “Everything okay?” he asked, gaze flicking over the two of them assessingly.

“Fucking peachy,” Liz said cheerily, but there was an edge to her voice that sent a chill down Gavin’s spine; something wild glinting in her eyes.

Kayden flinched at Liz’s voice, her head jerking up. Fucking figures, Gavin thought contemptuously. Of course she’d have no goddamned situational awareness. He was half expecting her to bolt like a scared rabbit, but to his surprise she visibly steeled herself and approached Liz.

“I didn’t tell him about Astrid,” she said in a low voice. “I didn’t tell him anything about your business, and I didn’t tell him where you live. Only that I was still in contact with you, sometimes.”

“And how he could ambush me.” Liz’s voice could’ve cut glass.

“No! That wasn’t it. At least, it wasn’t meant to be. I was trying to help, that’s all. I thought the two of you having the chance to talk would be a good thing.”

“Well, do me a favour, Kay. Next time you decide you want to fucking help me? Fucking don’t. Got it?”

“Yes, of course. I won’t do that again, I swear. And I’m so sorry if—”

“Good,” Liz said, cutting her off, carelessly flinging an arm around her shoulders — She’s forgiving the bitch? Just like that? — as she turned to the rest of them. “Alright then, let’s go find ourselves some fucking fun!”

There was a chorus of cheers, and then they were off, following in Liz’s wake as she strode away, dragging Kayden with her. She didn’t seem to have a clear destination in mind, seemingly considering and dismissing various possibilities until she came to a halt by a little shooting gallery.

“That?” Tony said sceptically.

“No,” she said, nodding her head at the group approaching the stall. “Them.”

Like she’d flipped a switch, the air was suddenly buzzing with electricity. Anticipation crackled along Gavin’s nerves, making him stand taller, making his heart beat faster, and when he glanced around at the others, he saw the same kind of eagerness glittering in their eyes. Well, not Kayden, but who the fuck cared about that weak little bitch? Liz was eyeing the entertainment — now occupied trying to hit painted targets with shitty BB guns — with a predatory air.

Rolling his shoulders, Gavin leaned in towards her. “How do you want to play this?”

“Hang back for now, and wait for my signal.” A feral, half-mad grin. “I fucking guarantee you won’t miss it.”

“You’ve got it,” Brandon said before Gavin could speak, and then Liz was sauntering on up to the stall.

“Not bad, boys,” she drawled. “But I bet I can do better.”

That got their attention, and Gavin had to suppress a growl at the appraising, appreciative looks some of them gave her. “You think so?” one of them said, smiling in a way that reminded Gavin of the way Brandon had smiled at Kayden before Max showed up. “Well, why don’t you prove it?” He offered his gun to her, his wide, amused smile making his teeth look very white against his dark skin. Mingled disgust and fury churned in Gavin’s gut at one of them talking to her like that, smiling at her like that; like he was her equal. Soon, he told himself. Soon I’m gonna wipe that smile off his fucking face.

“Okay, I will.” Accepting the gun — didn’t she feel unclean, accepting something one of them had handled? — she bent to start lining up a shot.

“Hey, you gotta pay!” the kid managing the stall said indignantly. “One fee, one person. That’s how it works.”

“He’s paying for me,” Liz said, jerking her head at the fucker who’d handed her his gun.

The carney turned to the fucker in question, who laughed and pulled out his wallet. Liz had already stopped paying attention, taking aim and squeezing off several shots, all of them hitting the bullseye. Carelessly dropping the gun — paying precisely zero attention to the carney’s protests — she turned to face Mr Smiley, who laughed and doffed an imaginary hat to her.

“Nice shooting. Looks like you were right.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” she demanded, lifting her chin to stare him down.

His grin only widened. “Congratulate you and ask if you’re giving lessons.”

“You’re not pissed about getting your ass handed to you by a girl?”

Here we go. Gavin drew in a sharp breath, clenching his fists in anticipation… only to sag a little in disappointment when her words prompted only laughter.

“No, ma’am,” he said genially. “My momma raised me better than that. I don’t have a problem with strong women. In fact, I’ll even buy you a drink if you like. To celebrate your victory.” In a heartbeat, Liz’s smirk twisted into a snarl, and Mr Smiley’s smile fell away, his eyebrows lifting as he took a step back, his hands out in a peacemaking gesture. “Or not. No pressure.”

“What a fucking pussy,” Liz spat, and then she surged forward and slammed her head into his face. His nose crunched, blood (red) gushing down his front (red) and if that wasn’t a (red) signal he didn’t fucking know what was, and they all — minus Kayden — surged forward (red) as one. Time to (red red red red red) have some fucking fun!

“…actually started begging and pleading with us to stop,” Liz was saying, her face flushed red from the combination of booze and good humour. “Not that you could really understand what he was saying, because Gav knocked half his fucking teeth down his throat!” Laughing loudly, she saluted Gavin with the vodka bottle clutched in one hand. The only reason it didn’t spill was because it was already mostly empty, having been passed around and around several times before Liz claimed the remnants for herself.

Gavin raised his beer bottle to her in turn, returning her grin. “But then you told him we’d stop if he got the fuck up and walked away on his own two feet. And the dumb fuck actually tried! Even with a fucking shattered kneecap.”

That earned him an eruption of scattered laughter, the camaraderie mingling pleasantly with the beer buzz to warm him through. He relaxed back into his seat as Liz took up the tale again, his good mood not diminishing even when  Brandon starting putting in his two cents, talking himself up like he was the only one aside from Liz who did anything worthwhile.

“I just hope we didn’t pick up any diseases from all that blood,” he finished, giving an exaggerated shudder.

“Yeah, you never know what they might be carrying,” Liz added. “But alcohol sterilises shit, right?” She held up the bottle of vodka, sloshing the liquid around. “Guess we’ll just have to fucking drink more!” She suited the action to the words by downing another swallow of the stuff to a chorus of cheers.

I’m glad I came out today, he thought. I needed this. Maybe Liz was right to point out he’d been drifting apart from his friends, and from the rest of the crew. Maybe she’d just been looking out for him. And maybe ordering him to get his head out of his ass and rethink his priorities had been the best way of helping him see that. I’m lucky to have her. As a commander, as a friend; all of it. I’m really fucking lucky.

At some point while he’d been lost in thought (‘Get your head out of the clouds, boy. No one ever got anywhere in life by dreaming.’) Liz had finished her story, and someone else — Frank, maybe, or Fred; not one of Liz’s crew — had started telling jokes. Turned out that Frank, or Fred, or who-the-fuck-ever was actually a funny fucker, and Gavin soon found himself laughing along with the others. Liz laughed louder than anyone, clapping Fred-Frank on the back almost hard enough to send him tumbling ass over apex. Even Kayden, who’d been in some kind of daze ever since the gang cut loose at the fair, thawed enough to laugh along. Fucking pathetic, he thought contemptuously. What the fuck is she so fucking rattled for? She didn’t even do anything. No, she’d just stood back and watched while everyone else got their hands bloody, looking like she wanted to throw up. Never mind. The bitch isn’t my fucking problem. Putting her out of his mind, he turned his attention back to enjoying the party.

At some point, someone cranked the music up, and the room turned into an impromptu mosh pit. Against his usual inclination, Gavin let himself get dragged into the press of bodies, and for a while he lost himself in the beat and the movement. When he surfaced, someone pressed a joint into his hands, and instead of just passing it on as he’d normally do, some mad impulse led him to put it to his lips and take a drag. He promptly burst into a coughing fit, hacking and wheezing until he worried he might hack up a lung. (Did he even have lungs any more? Or a heart? Or any of that shit? It sure as shit felt like he did, but he’d changed so much since… since receiving his gift. Who the fuck knew what he had going on under the hood?)

“First time?” someone said, laughing, and he whirled on the asshole with a snarl, more than ready to throw down with this motherfucker who had the gall to fucking laugh at him. “Whoah, whoah,” Chucklefuck said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Ain’t no shame in that. I almost blew chunks the first time I tried it. Would’ve given you a heads up if I’d known. There’s a trick to it, see. Want me to show you?”

He held out his hand, and Gavin shoved the joint into it, mopping at his sore, streaming eyes. “I’m good,” he said shortly.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m good, asshole!”

Not giving Chucklefuck the chance to reply, he shoved his way through the crowd, his good mood now thoroughly ruined. What the fuck had he even been thinking, trying that poison? ‘Drugs are for the weak-minded, boy. I ever catch you trying that shit, I’ll give you a hiding you’ll never forget.’ He flinched before he could stop himself, casting a furtive glance around to see if anyone had noticed his weakness. If anyone had, they gave no sign of it, and he tried uselessly to make himself relax. Fuck off, dead man. But the thought had no real force behind it and he sank bonelessly down into a chair, suddenly exhausted.

He looked around the room, chasing that sense of camaraderie, that connectedness, that peace he’d found before, but now, rather than friends and comrades and allies, everywhere he looked he saw nothing but weakness and depravity. One guy passed out drunk, another one noisily throwing up in a corner. Red rimmed eyes and shaking hands as people poisoned themselves with harder shit than booze and pot. And everywhere he looked there were couples making out, bodies writhing and grinding against each other on the dance floor and in dark corners. Brandon was one of them, having apparently found a substitute for Kayden, and Gavin didn’t even try to suppress his sneer at anyone who would give themselves over to their vices so completely. No fucking self-control, that’s their problem. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of letting some bitch lead him around by his dick like that; of being driven by urges he couldn’t control.

What the fuck am I even doing here? Lance needs me. If he could even be in the same room as Gavin again without flinching after… after what happened. What I did. Shit, he needed to leave. He needed to go right fucking now, to pick up Lance from the sitter… He needed to know that Lance still trusted him, that he didn’t hate him. That he wasn’t afraid of him.

Driven by new purpose, he got to his feet, searching the crowd for Liz. He spotted her off in a corner, talking to some guy he didn’t know. Well, less talking to and more practically pinning him against a wall. Guess she still needs to blow off steam. Still, at least she didn’t let her… needs drive her, like far too many of the others. She just got them taken care of and moved on with her life; no muss, no fuss. And if any of them got ideas about it being anything more than a meaningless roll in the hay, she had absolutely zero fucking qualms about setting them straight as brutally as necessary. He’d just about decided to leave her to it and head out without saying goodbye, when her target manoeuvred himself out from between her and the wall, backing away with his hands raised in a conciliatory manner. Looks like Liz struck out. Guess that asshole isn’t man enough to handle her.

Liz’s expression twisted into a mask of rage, and her prey practically scuttled away from her. She scanned the crowd as if looking for something, and when her gaze lit on Gavin she locked gazes with him. He automatically came to attention, his senses on high alert… but then the moment passed and she slumped against the wall, letting the guy lose himself in the crowd. By the time Gavin made his way over to her, she’d got her hands on two bottles of beer, one of which she held out to him. He took it with a nod of thanks. They spent a few moments just drinking their beer; an island of peace amidst the noise and chaos of the party.

Liz was the one who broke the silence. “Enjoying the shindig?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. He had been enjoying it until everything went to shit. “You?”

“Yeah. Mostly.”

Silence fell between them again, and it was… nice. Just the two of them, alone in a crowd of people. Maybe I don’t need to leave just yet. A few more minutes can’t hurt.

“Hi Lizzie,” said Kayden, having apparently materialised from who the fuck knew where. Must be off my game if I didn’t spot her approach. “Hi Gavin.”

“Hey,” Liz said. He just grunted.

“Cool party.” Kayden’s smile seemed a little too bright to be real, and there was something brittle about her manner. “I think I’m going to head out now, though. It’s late, and I need to be up early tomorrow, so I was thinking…” She trailed off with an awkward shrug. “Anyway, thanks for inviting me. Maybe we can hang out sometime next week, you and me?”

“Maybe. I’ll check my schedule.”

“Cool.” Kayden hung around a few moments more, looking at Liz like she wanted to say something, but in the end she just sighed. “Well, I’d better get going. Bye Liz. Gavin.”

She turned away, but she’d only gone a few steps when Liz said, “Wait.”

It was pathetic how quickly Kayden spun around, how she looked up at Liz with doe eyes. “Yes?”

“There are some sketchy fuckers out there. Gav will walk you to the bus stop.”

“I will?” Gavin said, startled.

“Damn straight you will.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Besides, I know you’ll be wanting to get back to your boy.”

His heart leaped in his chest, but he held back his instinctive agreement, instead making himself  say, “I can come back, after.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” She saluted him with her empty bottle. “Just go the fuck home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he echoed. “Come on, Kayden.”

She’d been watching their exchange a little uncertainly, and now she twitched a little, as if startled. “Oh, uh, right. Bye Lizzie.”

Liz raised her bottle again, but said nothing.

“It’s okay,” Kayden said, once they’d stepped out into the cold night air, and the sudden quiet was almost a shock after the constant, pounding bass of the music. “You don’t have to walk me to the bus stop. I’ll be fine.”

The temptation to take her up on that was strong, but Gavin pushed it aside. “Liz asked me to walk you.” It had been more of an order than a request, but close enough. “So I’ll walk you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” He just grunted in response, hoping she’d take the fucking hint that he wasn’t in a conversational mood. Unfortunately, he was only able to enjoy a few moments of blessed silence before she was yapping again. “I really thought it would be a good thing, if she and Max actually talked. I mean, they’re family.”

“So the fuck what?” he burst out, over all his resolutions to keep his fucking mouth shut. “Just ‘cause someone’s family, it doesn’t mean they’re any good. Family can be fucking assholes. You ever stop to think there might be a reason or three that Liz cut off contact?”

“Well, Lizzie can be impulsive, and she does have a temper.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s fucking wrong.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again without speaking, pressing her lips together into a thin line. Shoving her hands into the pockets of Max’s fucking jacket, she quickened her pace, her heels clacking on the cracked sidewalk.

“Max isn’t… He’s a nice guy. And he really is worried about his sister.”

“Grow the fuck up, Kayden. Max is fucking using you to get to Liz. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about you!”

“How the hell would you know?” she snapped, glaring at him. “You don’t even know him!”

“I know enough. And I know Liz. I’ll sure as shit take her word over some asshole who shares DNA with her, and if you’re really her friend, you fucking would too!”

Her eyes flashing with anger, she drew herself up, looking as though she was ready to spit fire at him, but then she deflated slightly, giving him a searching look. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

He scowled, wrenching his gaze away from her and quickening his pace so that she had to break into a half-jog to catch up. His skin itched with discomfort. “Liz is my friend.” And my commander, he stopped himself from adding.

Thankfully, Kayden finally seemed to have got the hint, keeping her mouth shut until they reached their destination. “Well, this is me,” she said, giving him a fake smile.

“I’ll wait until the bus comes.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

He snorted. “Liz would fucking kill me if anything happened to you because I couldn’t be fucked to hang around a few extra minutes. I’m staying.”

“Fine.” Someway begrudgingly, she added, “Thanks.” Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long, and a few excruciating minutes later Kayden was giving him an awkward, “Bye,” and an even more awkward wave as she boarded her bus.

He was moving before the doors closed.

I’m coming, Lance.

(Please, God, let him forgive me. Please.)

The babysitter wasn’t happy about being woken up so late, but Gavin couldn’t find it in himself to care. She’d been paid for the full night, so what the fuck was she complaining about? Anyway, he didn’t have the attention to spare for her grumbling and griping, not when he was so completely focused on Lance. The boy barely stirred when Gavin picked him up, apparently totally exhausted, and Gavin was torn between hurrying home as fast as he could, or taking it slow to avoid disturbing the sleeping child. He opted for the latter, although he chafed every step of the way, and it felt as though he didn’t breathe freely again until the two of them were safely inside their apartment.

He just stood there for a long moment, cradling Lance in his arms as a strange pressure built up behind his eyes and his heart pounded in his chest. The tension built and built inside him until he couldn’t fucking stand it any more.

“Lance?” he said softly, his voice weirdly hoarse. Lance didn’t stir, so he cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder. “Lance?” He stroked Lance’s cheek. “I know you’re tired, but I need to talk to you. It’s just for a little while.” Lance shifted around, blinking sleepily as he stretched open his mouth in a wide yawn. “There you are,” Gavin said. “Good boy. How are you doing, little man?” Do you hate me?

Lance yawned again, his gaze slowly focusing on Gavin. There was another of those moments where the world seemed to hold its breath… and then a dopey little smile spread across Lance’s face. “Baba,” he said, patting Gavin’s cheek. “Baba.” His eyes drifted closed again, and Gavin let him sleep, his whole body feeling limp and wrung out by the release of that awful tension.

He doesn’t hate me.

Gavin hadn’t fucked things up beyond all hope of repair. (He hadn’t become his father.)

I’ll never hurt you again, he promised, meaning it with every fibre of his being. I’ll keep you safe… The thought trailed off before he could complete that sentence. ‘Little brother,’ was what he’d been going to say, but that didn’t feel right, not anymore. Instead, another phrase floated to the forefront of his mind, and he found himself turning it this way and that, seeing how it fit.

“My son,” he whispered, and it was like being struck by lightning, the sheer rightness of it shocking him down to his bones. “You’re my son, Lance, and I’ll keep you safe. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” Especially not me. “I fucking swear it.”