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Steven stared into the ice cubes bobbing in his whiskey, wondering what the logistics were of the earth opening up and swallowing him in that very instance were. Or someone pulling the fire alarm, at least.
KK cleared her throat, seated beside him at the bar. She hadn’t said much and they’d been there almost 20 minutes. Steven dreaded every shift and mundane sound.
“My most valuable thing is to be a useful tool.”
Steven cringed, biting his lip. Why did he say that? And to KK, of all people? She didn’t need to know that.
“I’m a coward.”
She already knew that.
“I’m not like you and Klaus.”
Obviously not.
A sharp wince of pain as Steven tore the skin from his lip. It had been a while. Not a good sign.
“So, you...” KK tapped her knuckles on her half-empty stein.
“We don’t have to talk,” Steven said with a weak laugh, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, I think we do,” KK’s voice was dry. “If Libra’s second-in-command doesn’t have his shit together,” she shrugged. “Well, doesn’t look good for the rest of us.”
Steven laughed again, shaking his head, “I’m functional, that’s what matters, right?”
“Are you really?”
“I get the job done.”
“And that’s all that matters to you?”
Steven faltered, taken aback, “No, but...” Scratching at his neck, he shrugged, “That’s what makes me useful to Libra, and that matters to me.”
“Being useful,” KK echoed. “Hmph. As usual, I don’t get you.” Downing the rest of her beer, she fished through her pockets for a cigarette, “Enlighten me, Scarface. What’s got you like this?”
Was this a sympathetic listening ear? From KK? What a bizarre night.
“You really want to get into this?” Steven felt his nails prick into his skin. “It’s not a short story.”
“I’m offering you my very valuable time. Yes, or no,” KK flicked her lighter open. “Either talk or let me go home.”
Making a steeple with his fingers over his untouched drink, Steven rested his chin on his hands. Normally, this sort of discussion was entirely out of the question. Even with Klaus, Steven rarely touched on issues of the mind. It felt unseemly. Klaus was more than just a partner, he was an ideal. Burdening Klaus with his grisly mental complications felt unfair. Why should he be troubled? The same went for KK, and yet here she was, asking to be bothered.
“We’re going to whip you into shape and get at the root of this! It’s about time you got your life together for the future or you may as well give up and die!”
KK was rough around the edges with Steven, so that was about as close to encouragement as he could expect.
“It’s just,” Steven sighed, nails nicking at his scalp, “borderline things. I’ve dealt with it since I was a teenager, I’m fine. I just slipped up a little.”
Blowing smoke to the side, KK stared across the bar into space, “So you always think like this, huh? Does Klausie know?”
“He knows I’ve got issues to work out,” Steven said noncommittally, finally sipping his whiskey. “That’s all he needs to know.”
KK turned her glare onto Steven, “Why?”
Steven stared back blankly. Why? Why would he need to know more? Why taint his idealism with Steven’s old habits and inherent flaws? Why filthy something pure? What was KK talking about?
“Knowing would hurt,” Steven spoke carefully. “If I hurt Klaus, I’d never forgive myself.”
KK laughed scornfully, “You serious? You really think Klaus knowing you’re, you’re human and you need help with something would hurt him?”
“No!” Steven snapped back. “I just don’t want him to think I’m crazy!” He covered his face with one hand, taking a deep breath, calming the sharp and sudden spike of his emotions. “Fuck’s sake, the man deserves better than me. I’m,” he cut himself off, shaking his head, hand sliding down to rest on the counter again. With a serene smile, he spoke in a weak voice, “Really, it’s alright, KK. You don’t need to play counselor.”
Exhaling another puff of smoke, KK cast a weary glance at the man, “If you think hiding things from your comrades is ‘alright’ in this business, you’ve got a death wish.” Extinguishing her cigarette, she added, “Though at this point I don’t put that past you, either.”
“I don’t have a death wish,” Steven denied. “Cowards are afraid of death, y’know?”
“Was that a joke?”
“Kind of.”
“Terrible.”
“I know.”
Waving the bartender over for a refill, KK continued, “Scarface, I’m trying to help you here, and I don’t like you enough to be patient with you dancing around the subject.”
She wasn’t wrong. Somewhere deep down, Steven knew it, and subtly wanted her help. If it was anyone but KK, he would’ve up and left already. She was like Klaus -- or at least, Steven categorized the two of them together. Simply put, they were good people. They were fighters to the end who thrived off helping others. That compassion, that genuine love was an enviable trait.
They’d both seen Steven at his lowest, all those years ago. He was nothing but a lone, reckless man alive only for the lust of a fast thrill. He’d made quite the name for himself as an information broker in the NYC underground, made himself a target for an enemy he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined was real.
“You’ll tell me what I want to know,” the blood breed’s voice was a gentle coo as her fingernails, unnaturally sharp and searing hot, dug into his cheek. “The Fang Hunter base.” Licking his blood off her hand, she drawled, “I know you’ve had a brush with Lucky Abrahms. I can smell him on you. So spit it out. Where are they?”
Steven shuddered at the memory, fingertips absently brushing his scar. It was before he knew anything of Fang Hunters or Blood Breeds or the Reinherz family or anything that made up his life in the now. His “brush” with Abrahms was a chance encounter. They hadn’t even exchanged names. At the time, Steven silently cursed Abrahms and the Reinherz association and whatever the hell a Fang Hunter was. And yet, he couldn’t help but attribute the situation to the horrible karma he’d built for himself. His life was nothing but selling people out for his own financial benefit. He could curse the Fang Hunters all he wanted, but he knew he deserved this.
He’d lost track of time in that dark dungeon of a basement, given up hope on himself. Had he been tortured for 10 minutes or 10 days? Even in the present, it was fuzzy. The Fang Hunters raid on the Blood Breed hideout was fuzzier, still.
What he recalled clear as day was waking in a hospital, handcuffed to the bed (“for his safety,” they said), being watched over by an intimidating figure he vaguely recognized from the blur of the raid. It was the body that had shielded him, carried him to safety. In those determined green eyes was that bright and shining light that saved him.
“Well?” KK interrupted Steven’s stroll down memory lane. “I will leave you with the tab, Scarface.”
“Sorry,” Steven chuckled. “I don’t mean to hide things, it’s just this sort of thinking, to me, is normal. It’s not a big enough deal that I bring it up.” Especially to you.
KK’s harsh blue eye stared back at him, giving away nothing. Her lip curled into a frown. Very slowly, she turned her attention back to her beer. Unreadable emotions cast over her face, flickering too quickly for Steven to understand them.
“I’ve been sleeping with the same .45 beside me in bed for the past four years,” she said finally, voice low, but not low enough for Steven not to detect a waver. “Ever since the collapse. My glock 21. It’s reliable in surprise situations.” Pulling another cigarette out, tapping it against her coaster, she continued, “My kids are a year behind in school because I wouldn’t let them go back at first. My husband, I had him homeschool them.” She smiled sadly, “My eldest, she gets it, but my boy? He’s still mad. He doesn’t understand. It’s too dangerous out there...” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she pulled her lighter back out, “That’s 'normal’ to me. Paranoia and overprotection is normal. Doesn’t mean that’s any good either.” Pursing her lips, she added, “You aren’t the only one who’s scared here. But, you are the only one who thinks you have to go at it alone.”
Steven smiled bitterly. He couldn’t argue with that. Of course she was right. Everyone was afraid -- as they should be. Even Klaus was afraid. Hellsalem’s Lot was an early grave for anyone who wanted to do right by the world. They were all lucky they’d lived as long as they had.
The worst part was, fear wasn’t even the base of the problem.
“It’s not just being scared,” Steven traced circles in the wood of the bar. “It’s being unstable.” His hands stopped moving, “What happens when I can’t control everything going on inside me?”
To be uncontrollable was to be useless. That was one of the first things Steven taught himself upon joining Libra. He was the organizer, the man with the plan, always in control. He had to be. His mind was a weapon for Libra’s purposes, if he let its flaws get the best of him, he’d become expendable.
“You’re stronger than you think, Scarface,” KK piped up. To Steven’s surprise, she let out a soft laugh, “You and I, we’ve been to hell and back with Klaus.” Taking a long drag, she finished, “We’re human. We’re all gonna make a big mess of things sometimes, but you can be damn sure when it happens, we’ve got each other’s backs.” She smirked over at him, adding, “Be a mess once in a while. It’ll make me trust you more.”
What?
“Trust...?”
Why the hell would KK trust him?
“Mmhmm,” she nodded with a puff of smoke. “Feels more real when you talk like this. Is this how you talk to Klausie?”
Steven shrugged, then nodded, “It’s easy to talk to him, but...”
“I know, I know, you don’t want him to think you’re ‘crazy,’” KK held no subtlety with her eye roll. “You know Klausie’s just as messy as we are in the bad brains department, right?”
Bad brains? Steven stifled a laugh, “That’s impossible. It doesn’t affect him the same way, he’s stronger -- ugh!”
KK cut Steven off with a sharp elbow to the side, “You’re splitting, Scarface.”
Rubbing his sore ribs, Steven admitted, “I know. It’s...hard not to. Especially when I compare us side by side.”
For a moment, Steven felt self-conscious. His lips had been significantly loosened from the whiskey. What was he doing, babbling out all his innermost confidential anxieties to KK? She said it was alright, but was it really? Wasn’t she just wasting her own time pitying him?
KK elbowed him again, “I’ve known you long enough to know that look. Listen, I can’t make your emotions stay in check, but what I can do is offer you some advice, cover the tab, and get you back home with Klausie who you should be having this conversation with.”
Steven smiled in spite of himself, “I’m listening.”
“Go home, level with him,” KK spoke plainly. “Autism’s a different flavor from borderline, but he’s your partner and he loves you. He’ll listen. Thinking otherwise is an insult to his name, you know that. Second,” she held up a second finger, “you’ve got an unnecessarily large network of connections. Find a therapist in there somewhere. Get medicated. It’ll help, I promise.” She chuckled, “I mean, I do still sleep with my gun, but now I sleep like a rock next to it.” She paused, frowning in thought, “That’s...really it, honestly.” She lowered her hand with a half-smile, “I don’t wanna preach at you. I just...want you to get better. For all our sakes, too.”
Taken aback, Steven was silent. “I want you to get better.” Truly, one of the kindest things to have been said to him, and unbelievably out of the mouth of someone he’d sworn despised him. The only other person who really spoke to him like that was...
“You two are so alike,” he laughed softly.
“Who, Klaus?” KK snorted. “Because we care about you?”
“Oh, you care about me?”
“Shut up, you know we all do,” she punched his shoulder weakly.
It was news to him. Pleasant news. But wouldn’t it be pathetic to act like it was?
“Of course, of course,” Steven lied.
No, maybe he did know it, somewhere deep buried in the back of his mind underneath all the layers of intrusive thoughts and fractured reality. It felt miserable to admit it aloud, but that validation, without even asking for it, was a breath of fresh air.
“Thank you,” he said softly, smiling up at his comrade. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” He held up a hand before she could protest, “I know, I know, you don’t think that way. I’m just saying...I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me like that,” she grimaced. “Just, go fix your life. And pay for my drinks next office party.”
“Truly you’re the benevolent queen our world is in dire need of,” he said dryly.
“Damn right,” KK stood, straightening her skirt out. “Now go the hell home and talk to your partner before he falls asleep and you lose your nerve.”
“You might know me a little too well, KK,” Steven said in a mock-wary tone.
“Yeah, you and Klausie are predictable, so sue me,” she waved a hand over her shoulder, stopping to retrieve her card from the bartender.
Well. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing she could call him.
Steven smiled crookedly and followed her out the door, a strange and unfamiliar peace settling in his heart.