caught

by Man_Who_Sold_The_World

Summary:

lacey is making things work. she has to, for gabi. she loves gabi. she'd do anything for her.

the issue is she might love gabi too much.

weird lacey/gabi/sir dynamic stuff told mainly from lacey's perspective.

Chapter 1: PRELUDE

PRELUDE

 

Lacey knew there was something off about her. About this new client of theirs. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew. The woman-- the wife of a senator with pin straight blonde hair and a smile that charmed most people, was too sweet. Saccharine. Quick to offer help and not take no for an answer. On the surface, they were alike in that sense. But only on the surface. Lacey could feel the insincerity of her waxy smile. Margaret was the first to voice such an opinion, but Lacey felt it too.

The pin straight saccharine blonde woman, of course, had a name as sweet as her heavily curated appearance. An old southern name. Abigail Grace Tinsley. Gracie to her friends. Lacey didn’t fall for her painted nails or nice smile. Lacey didn’t call her Gracie, but Gabi did. And maybe it’s just because Gabi understands what it’s like to not have someone call you the name you like, but Lacey’s got a bad feeling Gabi fell for her charms too.

Lacey’s got more than a feeling right now. Her mind is groggy as she blinks awake. She can feel the coarse texture of the ropes digging into her bare arms. Her own fault for wearing a tank top, she supposed.

Lacey had a nagging feeling when they dug into the case the Tinsleys brought them that it would all circle back to her. That the Tinsleys wanted more from Gabi than her help finding some missing staffer. And Lacey was right. They’d offered Gabi more money than even Zeke could imagine to turn a blind eye towards another case-- a young Dominican girl they suspected was being trafficked. And when Gabi refused?

A low groan worms its way out of Lacey’s throat. Whoever tied these knots knew what they were doing. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone off on her own. Maybe she shouldn’t have investigated the Tinsleys’ little private lake house looking for the girl. But Lacey had a nagging feeling that the girl with her wide, pleading eyes would be there. Lacey was right. But they’d anticipated her. Both of them ran like hell out of there, but only the girl made it to the car. As Lacey blinks her eyes open, she’s relieved to find she’d bound in this dark room alone. The girl had made it out. And with any luck, the Tinsleys hadn’t found the little tracker she’d slipped into her right boot.

Lacey takes a deep breath and tries not to think too hard about the last time she was bound to a chair like this. She worms her toe around in her boot and smiles softly when she feels the little tracker. Gabi would find her. Gabi always found her, this would just make it easier. Her head’s pounding and whatever they’d drugged her with was still clouding her mind, but it wouldn’t last forever. She’d be found, the Tinsleys would go to prison, and all would be well. Lacey lets out a breath and leans back against her chair.

Her head almost knocks into someone’s skull.

“ Yanna? ” Lacey calls out frantically. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s me.” Sir sighs tiredly. “I see you’re finally awake.”

Lacey jumps, pulling wildly at her bindings.

“I’ve already tried. They’re good.” Sir explains. “I’m bound too, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Why--” Lacey huffs. She tries to scoot her chair away but finds it bound to his. “Why are you here? What, did you follow me?”

“No, they captured me before they got you. I woke up a couple minutes ago. I’d have worried they’d have killed you, if not for your snoring.” He explains, just shy of annoyed.

Lacey groans softly, her shoulders aching from the binds. What was the point of taking them both? Especially Sir? Lacey they could use to get to Gabi. But why Sir? Lacey squirms a bit more and wonders if she’d be able to slip from the rope’s grasp if she dislocated a shoulder.

It’s then that Abigail Tinsley enters. “Good. You’re awake.” She smiles that same waxy smile from the campaign trail. “I’m so glad we could manage to get both of you. This really only works with two.”

“What works?” Lacey spits as Abigail approaches.

“You know, I really tried to negotiate with her. She does a lot of great work. I really respect her, I do. But Miss Mosely? Hoo boy , that woman don’t know when to quit!” Abigail explains, circling them both in her pressed skirt suit. “You two, though? You two are hard to get into a room together, I’ll tell you that. Your entire little family loves being difficult, don’t you?”

“We're not a family.” Lacey tries to pull away from Sir, but only manages an inch.

“Miss Mosely’s lost me an awful lot of money. And that just can’t go unaccounted for. Usually, I’d just take care of her , but…” Abigail purses her lips. “I don’t appreciate my kindness being spurred. It’s not enough for her to die. I have to ruin her. So!” She claps her hands together. “Seeing as Miss Mosely cares not for money or her reputation, if I want to make an impact it has to be through you two.”

Lacey laughs bitterly. “You’re crazy. Gabi doesn’t care what happens to Sir. She’d probably thank you if you killed him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sir mutters over his shoulder.

Abigail shrugs. “Be that as it may, I’m not gonna be the one who kills him.” She pulls a small handgun from her purse. “You are, Lacey.” She sets it on the ground.

Lacey scoffs. “I’m not killing him for you.”

“That’s a surprise.” Sir sneers.

“Shut up!”

Abigail laughs. “The gun’s got one bullet in it. One of you leaves here in a body bag, the other in handcuffs. Quite frankly? I don’t care who’s who. But those ropes’ll give eventually. So I suggest whoever ain’t keen on leaving in the body bag get going.”

“And if we don’t?” Lacey asks, jaw tight as the woman circles them. “If neither of us do your dirty work for you?”

Abigail shrugs. “Then I’ll just kill you both.” She saunters off. “Good luck! If I don’t see at least one of y’all get to work in the next five minutes, you both die.” She calls out over her shoulder. The door shuts tight and heavy behind her.

 

Five minutes. That’s not enough time. Lacey curses to herself and tugs at the ropes. Gabi would come eventually, but the last thing Lacey Quinn needed was a bullet to the skull in the meantime.

“I suppose this has all worked out spectacularly for you.” Sir hums to himself, tugging at his own bindings. “You saved the girl. You’ll kill the beast. A real hero.” His tongue drips with venom.

Lacey scoffs. “Oh, like you aren’t chomping at the bit for an excuse to get rid of me.” She scoots the chair, and it only makes it half an inch. Her eyes flit to the CCTV camera blinking red at them from the corner. She squirms a bit more.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be. And I wouldn’t need a gun to do it.” Sir sighs tiredly. “But… we shouldn’t fight. Not now.” He lowers his voice. “We need to figure out how to get out of here. Gabrielle is in danger. ”

And Lacey’s halfway through another scoff before it hits her. Gabi is coming. Gabi has her location. They just need to buy time till she gets here.

“Oh, come on!” Lacey laughs bitterly. “ We shouldn’t fight . Where was that back at the farmhouse?”

“Do you really believe now to be the time to hash out old grievances from the past?” He calls out over his shoulder.

“If not now, when, Hugh?” Lacey taunts. “One of us will be dead within the hour. Maybe even both, if the Tinsleys are lying.”

“I have already said I do not intend to kill you. And I very much so doubt you intend to kill me either, despite your shoddy attempts in the past.” Sir reasons, an annoyed edge to his tone. “Let’s not quarrel.” He takes a deep breath, his shoulders straightened against her own.

Lacey bends and twists in her binds as she thinks. They were being watched. And Sir was being infuriatingly reasonable about the whole thing. They needed to buy time. Arguing would buy them time. Arguing would make it look like they were working on killing each other. How could she get through to him?

In all her squirming, her fingertips brush against his inner wrist and Lacey gets an idea.

 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” The girl snarls.

Hugh grits his teeth. Of course Lacey Quinn-- ever emotional, ever in the way , would be unable to set aside her petty grievances for even a moment. She was always like that. Always so frightened or angry or bitter. Irrational to her core, yet convinced she’s right. Infuriating. That was the word for Lacey Quinn. Infuriating.

“Twenty years of this. Twenty years of chasing a woman that doesn’t want you.” She laughs haughtily. “A spoiled little boy who can’t take no for an answer.”

Spoiled. If either of them were spoiled, it was her. Her and her loving mother and warm home. Her and the law degree she barely used. The Latin classes she didn’t appreciate. Gabrielle’s fondness and affection she just took for granted. Hugh bites his tongue. It may be true, but that doesn’t mean it’s useful. And they needed to focus. Gabrielle’s life could be on the line.

Lacey’s fingers trace over the soft flesh of his wrist’s underside. He almost jumps at the sudden, strange intimacy of it. Almost thinks it an accident, but then--

 

G-A-B-I

 

He feels her trace the letters over his skin. He straightens his back and grunts.

 

B-U-Y-T-I-M-E

 

Hugh doesn’t say anything at first. Doesn’t do anything. The girl waits a moment. Waits for some signal he understands and starts tracing the letters again.

 

“I see, for all your formal education, you’re just as ignorant as the rest of them.” Sir calls out with a smug, villainous laugh. “Yes, well… I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. You’ve never been particularly bright.”

Lacey suppresses a smile. Either he got the message, or he was tired of holding back. Either way worked. “Because no one’s as smart as you, right? So bright. So brilliant . You, with your highschool-level literary analysis and sweater vests and dress shoes. Really the height of sophistication, the Men’s Wearhouse clearance rack.”

“Hmm. Well the clothes are mine, at least. Or, did you think you were being subtle? Clomping around in her shoes like a child pretending to be their mother. You are not Gabrielle.”

“You’re right. I’m not. Hey, how’s your back, Hugh?”

“Oh, it's healed just fine, little Brutus .”

“You are not my father.”

“I never said I was.”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “Caesar was Brutus’ father. That’s why stabbing him was a betrayal. But you? You’re nothing to me. Just some guy who ruined my life and won’t stop terrorizing my friends.”

“Oh?” Sir questions with a chuckle. “I see. Is that what you thought it would be like when I took you? A new father to replace the truck driver who didn’t even love you enough to come home when you were abducted? Twice?”

Lacey frowns, her hesitancy disrupting their rhythm. “Like your father?” She finally manages, blinking back tears. “What was his name again? Do you even know? Talk about lost love. At least I’ve got postcards and snow globes.”

“You’re easily bought. If I’d have known as much at the farmhouse, I’d have kept you quiet with dolls and crayons. Then again, if I had the chance to go back I’d never have taken you at all.”

“ If only .” Lacey mutters under her breath.

“You’re quick to detest me for taking you, but your abduction was the best thing to happen to you. What would you be without it?”

“Happy. Unbothered. Moisturized.”

“Without Gabrielle? What purpose do you serve beyond her? If you weren’t the cloying child holding her back from greatness, what would you be?”

Her jaw tightens. “It always comes back to Gabi with you, doesn’t it?”

“Everything comes back to Gabrielle. She’s the reason we’re here.” 

“ I’m here because you kidnapped me. That had nothing to do with Gabi and everything to do with your own twisted, myopic domestic fantasies.”

“You were gone for, what? A week. This anger is tedious even coming from Gabrielle. What right have you to it?”

“What right have I to my anger? Ha!” Lacey laughs, really laughs at that. “My name’s Hugh Evans and I’m angry. Just so, SO angry because my student-- sorry , daughter-- sorry, partner-- sorry , WIFE hates me! And all I ever did was hold her captive for a year and terrorize all her friends.”

“None of this would be happening if anyone would simply listen to me.”

“Gabrielle? Gabrielle!” Lacey mocks. “GABRIELLE! Wherefor art thou Gabrielle?”

“You’re using the quote wrong--”

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you, Gabrielle. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee, Gabrielle. I would not wish any companion in the world but you, Gabrielle. My partner. My pupil. My pet. ” Lacey taunts in a dramatic voice. “Gabrielle… Gabrielle! Light of my life. Fire of my loins--”

“It is not like that. I have never loved her like that.”

Lacey laughs low and bitter. “Right, I forgot. Hugh Evans the puritan. Hugh Evans the better man.” She laughs again. “ Hugh Evans the Ken doll .” 

“You scorn me? Because my love is something purer? Would you prefer I look upon her lecherously like that traitorous police officer you so quickly accepted into your little false family?”

“I’d prefer you not mistake the delusion of your obsession with her for love. But we’re well past that point now, aren’t we?”

“Only a fool would come to know Gabrielle as I have and not feel some inkling of madness.”

“On that, we agree.” Lacey eyes the camera watching them. “Your madness, that is.”

“You know madness well. How long did it take for them to believe you? Do they truly now? Or, are they simply humoring you as they do with these follies you have of following in Gabrielle’s footsteps?”

“Maybe the next time I follow in Gabi’s footsteps I’ll hit you with a cast iron frying pan. How about that?”

“I’m sure you’ll try. And fail. As you have failed in all your attempts at mimicking her.”

“At least Gabi likes me. Loves me, even. Can you say the same?”

“Gabrielle and I are soulmates--”

“Oh, come on! You don’t even believe that. If you did, you’d never have taken her. You’d have just--” Lacey wretches. “ Waited . But, nope! You knew she wanted nothing to do with you. That’s why you locked her away.”

“Gabrielle has a hard time accepting the things she wants in life. She is brilliant and magnanimous and far less selfish than you or I.”

“Gabi is all those things. But you assume what she wants is you.”

“As opposed to you? Gabrielle never wanted you. She didn’t even ask for a companion. I chose to take you to give her company. I shouldn’t have. She’d never have left if I hadn’t. It was only your imprisonment that motivated her to truly leave because she felt morally obligated to save you. Just as she feels morally obligated to continue saving you now. Not just here. Not just from me or the Tinsleys. But with law school and her protection and her support.”

“That’s not true. Gabi loves me.”

“Out of obligation. Because you’d die without it, not because it’s her choice. Our souls are bound to one another. You’re just the pitiful little thing she feels too guilty to get rid of. Gabrielle refuses to accept my love because to do so would mean accepting someone who loves her wholly. Fully. To love someone who gives, not just takes. She lets you-- all of you, take and take as much as you want.” Sir scoffs bitterly. “You delude yourself into thinking you give in return, but if that were true she could trust you with her full self. And she can’t. Always hiding the darker parts of her from your little family. Parts she deems ugly or evil.”

“There is nothing ugly or evil about Gabi.” Lacey snaps through gritted teeth.

Hugh laughs, soft and light and arrogant. “On that we truly are agreed.”

The girl goes silent then. Her breathing turns strange and he recognizes the sound. Near-expertly repressed sobs. Better than the students he’d failed for plagiarism. Better than Gabrielle at the farmhouse, even. She almost hides them entirely from him. But he can feel the way her whole body rocks against his back. It’s almost disappointing, hearing her give up the fight. It was a performance, he knew. Just a distraction until Gabrielle saved the day as she always did. But the girl couldn’t help it.

“Why did you take me all those years ago?” She asks in a voice small enough she almost sounds like the child she was when he did take her.

Hugh takes a short breath. “I’ve told you this many times, Lacey. As a companion for Gabrielle.”

“No.” Her voice is low and bitter now. A poor interpolation of his own dark demeanor. “You took a child as a companion for Gabi. Why did you take me ?” She turns, trying to get a look at him out of the corner of her eye.

He can feel just the edge of her breath against his neck. “Why did you look back?” He asks in turn. “Most children see some strange man watching them and they run away screaming. Cloying to their mother’s skirts and crying. You just stood there and looked at me.”

“So it’s my fault then? That you stole me away from my life?”

He shakes his head, tutting at her. “We all hold some responsibility for the life allotted us. That’s just the way it is.”

“And, what? You had it coming? Every beating you claim to have taken for your brother?”

“I chose to take them, didn’t I?” He all-but shrugs. And there’s that eerie silence again. That quiet proof that this was more than a show to her. To them both, perhaps.

“She should have hit you harder.” Lacey finally manages.

Attagirl . 

 

“How barbaric.” Sir huffs. “I was always much kinder to you girls than my mother was to me. I--”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “Never laid a hand on us? Oh, because the ropes and the locks and the yelling was just so much better .”

“I do find it strange, how violent you are. Gabrielle is a fighter, certainly. But it’s like you’re out for blood. I didn’t teach you that. And I’m certain Gabrielle didn’t either.”

“No one had to teach me.”

“We are born with some things, I suppose. It’s only unfortunate you were gifted neither the intellect of Gabrielle nor the strength of your executioner.”

“ Executioner? ”

“Your little toy soldier. Dhan. He could put up a real fight. He could win. You, though? You chose your new name well, Lacey. You are a delicate little thing.” There’s a kind of scorn and vitriol in his voice when he says it. Enough venom to melt the very lace he thought her made of. “Violence without purpose is the language of cavemen.”

“You act like you’re any better than us, but it is just that: an act. You think, what? Fancy words mean you’re not as horrible as the rest of them? You should be the lawyer, not me. You’d tap dance around the courtroom. Have them eating out of the palm of your hand. You really missed your calling, Hugh.”

“I lived the exact life I was meant to. Every choice I have ever made has led me here. To Gabrielle.”

“Weird how all your choices led to a teenager.”

“ Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart. ”

Lacey groans. “Of course you would quote Marcus Aurelius to justify kidnapping a 15 year old. Which is it, Hugh. Did you make all the right choices to meet Gabi, or did the fates push you together?”

He takes a breath to reply, but is interrupted by a sudden banging against the door. Someone hits the door once. Twice. And then it opens.

Dhan explodes into the room, one fist wrapped around some guard’s collar and the other winding up to hit him again. Dhan sort of half drags him into the room before dropping him entirely when he spots them. Gabi trails in after him, heels clacking against the concrete floor as she rushes to Lacey’s side.

“Oh, God , Lacey!” Gabi exclaims, sawing at the ropes with a knife. “Did they hurt you?”

Lacey shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She assures, groaning as the ropes fall from her sides. She half stretches, falling into Gabi’s arms as she tries to stand. Her arms are raw from where the ropes dug in, her legs dead and tingly beneath her. But Gabi remains strong. Resolute. Gabi doesn’t let her fall. Gabi never lets Lacey fall. Gabi holds Lacey to her chest, bright, warm, and welcoming. 

“ You have something to do with this? ” Dhan barks at Sir. “ You help them take her? ” He yanks at Sir’s collar, his knife’s edge at the man’s throat.

Sir scoffs. “What reason would I have to help anyone hurt Gabrielle?”

“What reason do you have to do anything?” Dhan counters, pressing the blade even closer.

“It’s okay, Dhan.” Gabi calls out, rocking Lacey lightly against her. “I believe him. He didn’t have anything to do with this. We can deal with him later. But don’t let him get his hands on that gun.” She gestures to the handgun Abigail Tinsley left behind.

Dhan kicks it to the other corner of the room.

“Oh, like I would shoot anyone.” Sir huffs.

Gabi cups Lacey cheek, leaning in even closer as she speaks. “Do you think you can walk?”

Lacey nods. It’s a slow and wobbly start, but she manages it. Gabi gives her a small, proud little smile and it gives her the strength to keep going. Lacey sets her shoulders back and stands at her full height. “I’m okay.” She assures.

For his part, Sir’s yanked out of his own chair the moment Dhan gets through his bindings. Dhan grips the back of his collar, turning him around to face them. There’s a cut on the left side of his face and bruising around the jaw, but other than that it was as though he was entirely unaffected by the current danger they all were in.

“You came.” He smiles, reaching for Gabi when Dhan won’t let him come any closer.

Gabi scowls at him. “For Lacey. I’d have let you rot.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” He sighs wistfully. “You’re too good.”

Gabi sighs deep and tired. The kind of tired that was decades in the making. “Dhan, how long till Trent and his people get here?”

“He said ten minutes.”

“Good.” Gabi nods. “Then we can hand him over the moment they get here.” She turns her attention back to Sir. “I won’t have to share a car with you.”

Sir gives Gabi a near-smug, disbelieving look. “If you wanted me in prison, you’d have turned me in long ago Gabrielle.”

“Maybe she just couldn’t decide between seeing you behind bars or six feet under.” Lacey spits.

“Hmm.” Sir humors the idea for a moment. “Perhaps. But, Bella, Gabrielle’s already made that choice once before. And she’s nearly as stubborn as you are. I doubt she’s changed her mind in the meantime.”

“Don’t speak for me. You don’t know me.” Gabi hisses.

Sir shrugs. “You’re right, Gabrielle. I shouldn’t speak for you. Your actions speak for themselves.”

“Do you people do anything but talk?” Abigail Tinsley groans, having suddenly appeared from nowhere. She swipes the handgun from its spot on the floor. Her eyes flit to Lacey. She smiles.

All at once, Dhan releases Sir. Sir falls to the side and Dhan launches himself at Abigail. One big step and then another and then he’s got her wrist. He yanks it towards the ceiling, the smoking barrel of the gun leaving wisps of powder and burnt lead in the air. Gabi turns Lacey away, shielding the girl with her body as she prepares for the worst. All in all it was over in a matter of seconds, but the aftermath seems to stretch on for hours.

The gun shot reverberates through the dank, concrete chamber like a violent church bell. The silence it leaves in its absence is no kinder. Dhan shoves Tinsley against a wall, holding her arm against her back and bending it till she drops the gun. Gabi coddles Lacey, patting over her body for any sign of damage, any speck of blood. But she finds none. Gabi, Lacey, and Dhan all stand startled by the gunshot, but unharmed.

Hugh Evans lies prone on the concrete floor. Blood leaks lazily from his head.

 

When everything calms, when Gabi can be sure neither Lacey nor Dhan are hurt, she allows herself a moment of utter terror. Gabi pulls away from Lacey, her heels against the floor the only sound in the entire room now. They clack slowly as she approaches his eerily still body. The longer he goes unmoving, the more frantic her steps become until she’s fully running to him.

“Hugh?” She calls out. 

He lies there silently.

“If this is some trick of yours, it won’t work!”

He remains silent still.

“ Hugh!” She calls again, toeing at his side. The blood finally stops leaking, and he doesn’t budge. “Get up, Hugh.” She commands, crouching at his side. “ Get up! ” She shakes his shoulders desperately. “ Get up.” She whispers soft and low and little.

Lacey watches her for a moment. Watches Gabi desperately cling to his body. And there are a million ways Gabi could react to this Lacey would understand. Relief that it was over. Anger that it wasn’t her who did it. Disgust that he should weasel out of consequences so easily. But this? This desperate cloying? This grief? “Gabi.” Lacey calls out softly. She places a comforting hand on Gabi’s shoulder, but she doesn’t even seem to notice.

Gabi reaches towards him. She cards her fingers through his bloodied hair. “ Come on, you can’t die like this.” She leans in close and lowers her voice. “You promised you wouldn’t. Isn’t that what you’ve always said? That fate would draw us back to one another again and again?”

“ Gabi .” Lacey calls again, trying to pull her away.

Gabi shrugs her off. “ You can’t go without me .” She cries, tugging at his shoulder till he’s lying on his back. His face obscured by blood, she tries fruitlessly to wipe it away. She leans in even closer, nearly bloodying her own face in the process and sobs so softly, Lacey doubts Dhan hears what she says next. “ I-- I need you. ” She cries, her tears muddle the violent red crusting his eyelids shut.

His hand grasps at hers weakly.

Relief floods her all at once. “Hugh?” She whispers.

Sir smiles softly, blinking through the blood. “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises, squeezing her hand. He groans in pain and winces as he tries to move. Gabi helps him, and as he sits up it becomes obvious that the bullet had only grazed him.

And sure when Trent and his cops burst in, she drops him like a hot coal. Disgust and anger color her features once more. By the time he’s in cuffs and they’re perp-walking him for the press, even the staunchest chronically online, true crime-obsessed Gabi DOES love Sir truther would believe she hated the man.

But Lacey knows that isn’t true. Lacey knows that’s not the full truth, at least. Lacey knows now there are some parts of herself Gabi is hiding from her. Lacey knows how terrified Gabi was at the thought that the man who’d haunted them both was finally dead.

Lacey knows Gabi has been lying to her for years now.

Chapter 2: CATCHING

CATCHING

 

“Is that the last of it?” Gabi asks as Lacey plops onto the couch, a small cardboard box in her lap.

Lacey nods. “Just about. I’ve got something in here for you, actually. They’re really neat.” She explains, tearing off the tape. Gabi sits beside her, peering into the box as she opens it. “I think you’ll like them-- Oh, these aren’t it .” Lacey frowns as she digs around the box. “Sorry. I thought this was, hey!”

Gabi plucks a polaroid picture from the box. “Aw, are these from undergrad?” She asks.

“Well, yes . But these aren’t your present.” Lacey explains, trying to tug the box away from her.

But Gabi’s too quick. She digs into the mess of photos and trinkets and plucks out another photo. “Oh, you’re so young here.”

“That was only like five years ago.” Lacey guffaws.

Gabi shakes her head. “Not this one. Look, you could only be 19 here.” Gabi hums pleasantly as she digs through the photos.

Frat parties, study sessions, concerts. Lacey had captured them all. If put in order, which wouldn’t be difficult as she had meticulously labeled each photo, the pictures would make a flipbook of her college experience. It was one of the few parts of her life Lacey lived entirely apart from Gabi. Gabi had visited, of course, but things weren’t the same as they were when Lacey was a child. When Lacey was Bella. Gabi had her own life to live. And in a way, Lacey did too. But they’d been a tough four years. Tougher than Gabi knew. And tougher than Lacey let show in the photos. In Gabi’s absence, Lacey had filled her time with art and Latin classes, business majors and bare-faced feminists. She passed her classes and studied like hell for the LSATs and even managed to get one of her pieces into a student gallery despite not being an art major. And it was all good. Lacey knows that. Lacey knows it was important that she develop a sense of self outside of her relationship to Gabi. Outside what happened to her at that farmhouse. But she still missed her like hell.

“Who’s that?” Sir mutters, having suddenly appeared above both their shoulders.

Lacey’s eyes flit to the photograph in Gabi’s hands.

“Looks like one of your professors?” Gabi prompts.

Lacey eyes the photo again. “Oh, yeah.” She agrees, playing it off with an awkward cough. “That’s Professor Hampton. She taught literature, I think?” Sir eyes her. “It was a required class.”

“You’re smiling.” Gabi coos. “You look so happy next to her.”

“She was a good teacher.” Lacey explains with a casual shrug. “She taught me… a lot . More than just boring books.”

“Hmm.” Sir hums, eyeing her once more. “I didn’t take you for a reader.”

“I’m not.” Lacey paws through the box and pulls out another photo of Professor Hampton. The sun’s hitting her just right in this one. The edges of her locs glow golden and the sun makes even deeper shadows of her cheekbones. “Not books like that, at least. I like clinch covers and pulp. But she was just a really good teacher, I guess.” Lacey smiles softly at the photo.

Gabi digs the camera out from beneath a pile of concert tickets. “We should get more film for this. Make some new memories.”

“Yeah. We should.” Lacey agrees, nuzzling into her side. “Oh, I almost forgot your present!” Lacey jumps up and bolts from the room.

 

Later, when the girlish purple curtains Lacey gifted Gabi are hanging in the living room and the three of them are basking in the calm quiet of after dinner, Lacey looks up from her American Idol reruns and finds Sir just looking at her. He doesn’t stop when she looks back. Not at first. It’s only after a moment his gaze finally returns to the worn pages of his great American novel. His fingers laced with Gabi’s.

 

Lacey paints a lot at the house. When she’s not on a case or studying law or sparring, she’s painting. It’s part of the reason Gabi insisted she take the good bedroom. The one with the big bay windows. There was something about it, something about the act of putting an image to canvas, that comforted her. And she liked drawing too. She liked charcoal and graphite and pastels, but paint had a weight to it. A texture. A painting was halfway between a sketch and a statue. Layers of dark and light she carved her image from. Sometimes, when she stayed up into the wee hours of the morning and welcomed the sun from the same spot she bid it farewell and she’s minorly delirious from lack of sleep, she almost feels like the mythical Pygmalion. Like the next thing she painted might very well come to life before her.

To her credit, when she was 17 Lacey had once drawn her and Gabi living together. It was a fast, messy sketch. The curtains were purple. And Gabi had looked upon her so fondly. But Lacey felt too embarrassed to ever share it and threw it away before anyone could see it. Still, though, it had come true. Maybe Lacey did have some strange power in that sense. Maybe her art really could come to life.

 

Lacey cracks her neck. The sun was rising earlyearly. It’s Saturday now and unless some case comes crashing into M&A, she won’t have to go back to the office till Monday. Lacey goes to rinse her brushes in her paint mug and finds the water a thick, muddy slurry of paint. She dries the brushes on a rag and nabs the mug. She steps carefully through the house. The whole world still and silent around her. With any hope, Gabi’s fast asleep in her bed catching up on some much-needed rest.

She toes down the stairs carefully. It was still early, and she hadn’t slept yet. Maybe she’d just wash out this mug and go back to bed. Or, maybe she’d surprise Gabi. Make a big breakfast for her to wake up to. Eggs and bacon and waffles and the good grits like they had in New Orleans. Gabi usually resigned herself to simple breakfasts. Just toast and eggs or cereal or something quick like a protein bar. But she deserved more than that. Gabi often deserved far better than she let herself have.

Lacey nears the kitchen and hears murmuring. She slows, stepping carefully as she rounds the corner. Cozied up together, Sir and Gabi half-dance around each other in the kitchen. Gabi in a lilac pajama suit, and Sir with a thick robe wrapped around his pajamas. Robe ? Or was it a smoking jacket? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the soft, domestic fondness with which Gabi looked at him. She cups his jaw. They step one-two, one-two around each other. There, at the back of his neck, is a scabbed over little scrape Lacey gave him while sparring. Gabi presses her nails against it with a sly, lazy smile. Sir hisses, and Gabi shushes him. His eyes glitter and he leans in for a kiss she denies him. She presses her nails into the scab again, and Sir is silent this time. His jaw hard and shoulders taut, Gabi hums softly and kisses him.

Sir’s hands don’t wander. They remain, instead, firmly planted on her waist. Gabi leans against him, standing on the tops of her toes to meet him. They melt into each other in a way that feels off. Wrong. It wasn’t right, that they should have such soft, quiet moments together. Lacey’s grip tightens around the handle of her mug. Lacey and Gabi had plenty of soft, quiet moments together. Their relationship was stronger. Kinder. Love laced with love laced with love laced with love. But Gabi and Sir? Weren’t they more complicated? Wasn’t their dynamic far meaner? Love laced with horror laced with understanding laced with hate? If Gabi should look at anyone like that, it should be--

Gabi looks at her.

 

Lacey isn’t sure what it is. Maybe the floor creaked when she walked. Or maybe Gabi was just particularly attuned to her surroundings. Regardless, she’s been spotted. Gabi doesn’t say anything. Not yet. She doesn’t even pull away from Sir. Lacey takes a short breath and tries to play cool. She could be cool. She is cool. This is her house too. They’re all in a common area. She’s not intruding. She’s not even paying attention. She’s just come down to the kitchen for a mug of joe. That’s right. She hasn’t even seen them yet. Lacey half turns and sips casually from her mug.

 

Lacey coughs violently when the paint water hits her tongue. If she wasn’t caught before, she was now. Gabi pulls away and gives Lacey a bemused look. Sir frowns with a distinctly paternal annoyance.

“You okay there?” Gabi asks.

Lacey hacks up the last of the paint water sitting at the back of her throat. “I’m fine.” She coughs weakly. “I’m great. Just came down to…” She trails off, ducking between them as she makes it to the sink. She dumps the rest of the paint water down the drain and rinses her mouth in the faucet. 

“Up late painting?” Gabi rubs her back soothingly.

Lacey almost jumps at the contact. Gabi trails her nails up and down her back softly, Lacey still half bent over the sink. Her skin doesn’t crawl, it itches. Like there’s static just below its surface. Like if Gabi were just a hair harsher, just a bit less gentle, if Gabi dug her nails in, the circuit would be complete. Whatever wild energy running through Lacey’s body would run through hers too. Like maybe--

But Gabi doesn’t. Because Gabi would never be cruel to Lacey. Gabi’s far too fond of Lacey to ever cut her apart with her words or dig her nails in. Gabi loves Lacey far too much to ever bind her like the monster she keeps chained in the basement. Gabi doesn’t love her like that. And she never will.

The next case they work involves a nonverbal kid witness. Before Gabi can even formally ask, Lacey’s already on it. The girl’s a messy tomboy with muddied overalls and a big, toothy smile when she’s not crying. Lacey likes her already. And Lacey knows just the thing to get through to her.

So she ducks home to nab fingerpaints and some good, thick paper that can take a beating. It should only take a minute. And yet--

 

Sir’s in her room digging through a box.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lacey huffs, stomping in her room.

Sir turns, still pawing through her things. “You’re home very early.” He says casually, as though he hadn’t been caught.

Lacey yanks the box out of his hands. “ Give me that! What have I said about touching my stuff? What, do you need to spar, or something?”

“No.” Sir shakes his head, watching as Lacey clutches the box protectively to her chest. “Gabrielle mentioned getting new film for your camera. I was replacing it. That, and the batteries. They had corroded over. Rest assured, the camera is still perfectly functional.”

Lacey closes the box, turning away from him with a sigh. “Hugh, don’t you think if I don’t want you doing my laundry that I also don’t want you fixing my stuff?”

Sir takes a short breath. “I don’t understand your frustration, but I will choose to respect your wishes in the future.”

“ Thank you. ” Lacey sighs, shoving the box beneath her bed. “Just don’t go in my room at all, okay? And, do I even want to know how you got new film and batteries? Are you even allowed to leave the house?”

“If you’re wondering if there’s a trail of bodies in my wake, the answer is no.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“I’m sure Gabrielle would believe you if you saw fit to tell her.”

“I--” Lacey sighs again. “Whatever. You’re her pet, not mine. You bite someone, that’s on her.”

“ Pet .” Sir scoffs. “We are partners.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure.”

“You’re very protective of that box.” Sir remarks, pacing through her room with his hands clasped behind his back. “Well, Professor Hampton really. You two were lovers, weren’t you?”

Lacey grits her teeth as she digs through her art supplies. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s just very intriguing. You have no interest in English as a subject, and yet you clung to her : an English professor.” He tilts his head just so, a kind of knowing twinkle to his eyes.

Lacey rolls her eyes, shoving finger paints and sponges into a small tub. “I really don’t like whatever weird daddy issues thing you’re insinuating here.”

Sir chuckles villainously. “Oh, no. This has nothing to do with me or the truck driver. Do you really not see it, or are you being coy?”

“See what?” Lacey growls, shoving a pack of thick card stock into the tub and brushing past him. 

Sir pulls a polaroid, the one where Lacey’s smiling next to the professor, from his pocket. “A great interest in literature, beautiful locs-- those cheekbones?” He holds the photo at arm’s length. Lacey gives it a once over and snatches it from his grasp. “A poor man’s Gabrielle Mosely.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions.” Lacey huffs, stomping down the stairs.

Sir trails behind her. “I am making, at worst, an educated guess. But if I wasn’t right, you wouldn’t be running.”

“I have to get back to M&A. There’s a kid waiting for me.” Lacey shouts over her shoulder.

“Bury yourself in your work all you like, you cannot escape this.” He warns.

“Her sister’s missing and she’s not talking.” Lacey ducks around a corner, desperate to just dive back into the case already. Sir somehow manages to get in front of her and blocks the hall. “And anyways even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. If I loved Gabi like that, I’d have far bigger issues on my hands than whether I muster up the courage to tell her. First and foremost being you! ” 

Sir gives her a look.

“You don’t like to share. I don’t like getting poisoned.”

Sir rolls his eyes and lets out a little hmph! “Of course. Make me the villain, as you always do, because you are simply too cowardly to face yourself.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t throw a fit if Gabi and I--” She stops herself, a half-panic washes over her. “We’re sisters. Gabi loves me like a sister. Anything more than that would be… wrong .” She takes a deep breath, and then another. “Now, move! ”

Sir plants his feet for a moment more before stepping aside. 

They crack the case. The sisters are reunited. They dance and do their tequila shots and when Gabi wraps an arm around Lacey’s waist, she nearly crawls out of her own skin. But Gabi means nothing by it. Gabi never means anything by it. Lacey is being crazy and creepy and gross.

 

Dinner goes by only slightly better.

“You should have seen her out there. The way she connects with those kids? You call Margaret’s thing a super power, Lacey, but you? You’re… amazing.” Gabi praises, and it comes so easy to her. “You always amaze me.”

Lacey smiles, eyes glued to the table. “Thanks.”

“It was a good day, then?” Sir prompts, clearing the salad plates.

“It was.” Gabi agrees, sipping at her glass of wine. “My little baby Bella, all grown up.” she hums fondly.

“ Don’t call me that. ” Lacey snaps, and the sudden aggression surprises all three of them. Gabi blinks, Sir sets the plates down, and Lacey looks almost scared of herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…”

“You don’t have to explain.” Gabi assures, reaching for her. Lacey doesn’t reach back but instead grips her silverware with whitened knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Lacey assures. “Really, I’m fine. Just don’t call me that anymore. Please .”

“Of course.” Gabi pulls her hand back. “Oh, that reminds me!” She jumps up from the dinner table, circling Sir with ease as she ducks into the other room. Sir eyes Lacey for a moment and almost says something, but then Gabi returns. “I’ve been meaning to give you these.” She explains, handing a small, wrapped box to each of them.

“You really didn’t have to, Gabi.” Lacey insists before even unwrapping it.

“I wanted to.” Gabi assures, clapping a hand onto Lacey’s shoulder as she tears the wrapping paper.

“ Mouth guards? ” Lacey mutters to herself in confusion. “Why-- wow, we are not subtle are we? ”

“I’m just happy you found something that works for you.” Gabi half-hugs Lacey from behind. “I know you’re only doing it for me. And I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Gabrielle.” Sir circles the table and leaves a chaste kiss on her cheek before ducking into the kitchen with the salad plates.

“Yes!” Lacey agrees. “Thank you. For this. For everything.”

Gabi smiles. “You’re the best of us, Lacey.” She hugs her again and presses her lips to Lacey’s cheek.

 

When Sir returns with the entree he remarks upon the sudden flush to Lacey’s cheeks. She blames the wine. Neither of them question her logic.

 

Lacey paints and paints that night. Paints until her shoulders ache. Her head hurts. Her hands feel tingly and tense. And when the sun finally rises-- When Lacey can see, fully, what she’s created she smears the entire canvas in a wash of black and sets it to dry. Whatever horrid portrait lay beneath the thick layers of paint would be gone in a few hours when the shiny black turned matte. Lacey tugs off her smock and barrels down the stairs as quietly as she can manage.

When she gets down to the basement, just minutes past dawn, she doesn’t bother being quiet anymore. She tosses the smock into the washer, letting the bottle of detergent slam against the metal when she sets it down. The machine itself is no more quiet. She grips the edges of it and listens to the hum as it runs.

“Lacey?” Sir prompts groggily from his mattress on the floor. “Do you need to spar?”

“No.” She takes a deep breath and forces herself to let it out slowly. “ God, no. No one touch me right now.”

“Is this about--”

“Yes.” She takes another deep breath and turns away from the machine. “Is it obvious? To Gabi, I mean. Do you think she knows I…”

“Love her?” Sir prompts, slowly pulling himself out of bed. He groans and leans against the exposed support beams. “I doubt I would be here right now if you didn’t. If you hadn’t…”

And he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. They both know what he’s talking about.

Notes:

if you like this fic please leave comments

Chapter 3: INTERLUDE

INTERLUDE

He knew this day would come. He knew his Gabrielle would call for him eventually. Would realize she too ached to finally be one. To finally be a family. And how right, that she should do this here. The beginning of it all. Their first home. The place he took her. The place she took him. And now… now, he supposed they shall take each other in a sense. It was the perfect place. The farmhouse, their farmhouse, their synthesis. Never have there been two minds so well-suited to it. To one another. His dear Gabrielle. If he’d known all it would take was that fateful bullet, he’d have gotten himself shot much sooner. She needed him. She had said as much that day, and again in her note. Gabrielle needed him just as much as he needed her. Perhaps they’d go to Paris, finally. She hadn’t said precisely what she had in mind, but he didn’t care. So long as it was with her, it would be enough.

 

“So much for being smarter than me.” The infuriating girl sneers from behind him. Hugh turns to face her and is suddenly aware of the needle sticking out the back of his neck.

“Y-You!” He sputters, lumbering towards her as his body begins to fail him.

“ Me. ” Lacey remarks apathetically as Hugh collapses to the ground.

 

He wakes some indeterminate time later bound to a chair, the girl looming above him. The sun has since set, that much he can tell by the little sky he can see between the boards covering the windows. The whole place smells stale and is covered with dust. Lacey Quinn just stares at him, her arms crossed.

“Good. You’re not dead.” She nods to herself. “Wasn’t sure on my math, but I couldn’t ask anyone for a second opinion. Obviously. ”

Hugh tsks . “You play at indifference poorly.”

“I’m not indifferent.” The girl counters, circling him. “What was it you said before? The second time you kidnapped me? You’re stronger, faster, smarter than me?”

“I still am.”

“And yet.” She pauses in her pacing, looking down at him.

Hugh laughs haughtily. “You are not her.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“Well, you could have fooled me. You know, this is how she caught me before? She asked to meet at the farmhouse. I obliged. And the rest, well…” He trails off with a devilish grin.

Lacey guffaws. “I’m sorry, you’ve fallen for this twice now?” She laughs again loud and brash. “Wow, cops really are idiots. How they never caught you all this time…”

“Well, Gabrielle did have some help…” He trails off, waiting for that expectant look to continue. “The executioner. He tracked me down for her.”

“Did he?” Her jaw tightens.

“ Oh ,” He sighs in faux-sympathy. “You didn’t know? I wonder what else Gabrielle isn’t telling you.”

“Don’t worry. That ends today.” The girl circles once more and sits in a chair across from him. “It all ends today.”

Hugh tilts his head. “Following through on your threats from the Tinsleys’ basement, are we?”

Lacey shakes her head. “No. No, I didn’t mean any of what I said back there. I was just making stuff up to buy us time.”

“I would think you knew better than to lie to me, Lacey.” Hugh shrugs. Or, well, as much as a man can shrug while bound to a chair. “You meant every word of it, didn’t you?”

“You did, I didn’t.” Lacey insists. Hugh gives her a disbelieving look. “I don’t think your mother should have hit you harder. I don’t think she should have hit you at all. It was a horrible thing to say.”

Hugh thinks for a moment and nods. “That, I’ll give you. You are particularly protective of children. But you meant the rest of it.”

“You did too.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re angry I said you were weak?”

“No.”

“Unwanted?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Pointless?”

“Shut up!” Lacey snaps, rising from her chair at once and grasping his chin violently. “Shut up right now or I will kill you, hide your body for nine months, and only then maybe tell Gabi what I’ve done.” She holds him like that, her nails digging into his jaw, for a moment more before releasing him and returning to her chair. 

Hugh glares at her. “This really isn’t about you, is it? This is about Gabrielle.”

“ Isn’t everything? ” Lacey mutters.

“The world turns on her axis. I’m glad you’re finally figuring that out. But you don’t know what you’re doing.” He warns, tugging at his restraints. “You think you can make her choose?” He laughs. “You aren’t going to like the choice she makes.”

“I think you forget the choice she’s already made.” Lacey taunts bitterly. “You said it yourself, she only got away from that farmhouse because she wanted to protect me. Given the option, Gabi picks me every time.”

“Gabrielle will always choose to save the innocent. At the farmhouse, at your childhood home, that’s what you were. But here?” He punctuates his statement by scraping his chair across the floor. He only makes it an inch or two, but the sound is jarring.. “Kidnapping a grown man is a far shot away from being a helpless little girl, Lacey Quinn. You think this won’t change the way she sees you?”

“Trying to kill you didn’t.”

“That was different. It was a high octane, life-or-death situation to you. I’m certain she’s convinced herself that was the adrenaline talking. Or else, perhaps, the concussion. But this? Cold, calculated…” He trails off, eyes flitting about the old farmhouse. “This is almost something I would do.”

“If it were you doing this, there’d be a lot more costumes and scripts… And yelling .”

Hugh gives her a once over. The big, black, heavy boots on her feet. The thick leather of her jacket. The faux-apathy she was play-acting at. “If it were me doing this, I’d have cast you better.”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “As who? Brutus ?”

“You think yourself far too important. You, of course, recognize your insignificance in her absence? It was only in your captivity with her that you became something more. Without her, without the context of Gabrielle, you are nothing .” There’s a horribly intimate kind of hush to his voice when he says it. Not quite a whisper, but like he’s sharing a secret nonetheless.

Lacey sighs tiredly. “Who are you talking to, Hugh? You or me?”

Hugh suppresses a smug smile. “Every great hero needs their antagonist. The character that pushes them to grow. Forces them to face themself. But the needling, boy-wonder sidekick is a modern invention. A marketing tactic of cheap comics printed on pulp and sold to children who will read them once and then throw them away. Gabrielle and I are eternal.”

“Hmm.” Lacey hums apathetically. She rises from her seat and wanders about the farmhouse digging through drawers and cabinets. “I happen to like comics.”

“What are you looking for?” Hugh calls out, craning his neck to watch her.

“Something to gag you with.” Lacey calls back, coughing as she stirs up dust. “You know, it’s weird. I don’t think I remember you ever gagging us back here.”

“It wasn’t necessary. We were too far from other people for it to matter. And there’s always a chance your captive chokes with a gag.” He explains simply. As though it were simple, the whole horrid affair he’d put them through.

Lacey finally finds an old, torn rag. “I guess that's a risk we’ll have to take.” Her boots clomp heavy against the wood floor as she returns. THUNK-thunk, THUNK-thunk. A far shot from the refined clack-clack of Gabrielle’s graceful heels. Everything about the girl was a shoddy, crude imitation of her. “Open.” She commands.

Hugh looks up with equal amusement and derision. “Do you really think you ca--”

She shoves the dusty rag into his mouth and ties it back behind his head. “Yes. I do.”

The rag is filthy and disgusting. The dust melts against his tongue. Hugh tries to spit it out, but can’t. He tries to talk too, but nothing comes of it. Just muffled grunts. The soundscape of a caveman.

“She should have muzzled you when she had you in the basement.” The girl spits.

She looks down at him, eyes red and brimming with hate. And maybe he was wrong. Maybe the infuriating girl was far more dangerous than he ever gave her credit for. After all, here he was bound and gagged at the farmhouse. The knots are good. He couldn’t worm out of them if he tried. The gag wouldn’t budge either. They were far too remote for anyone to hear him even if it would. She was nothing. She was insignificant. His key to Gabrielle. A means to an end. And yet, even he had to admit to himself that he was entirely at her mercy. And that felt… strange.

Gabrielle’s captivity was different. Certainly, she feigned hatred. But she was never going to hurt him. Not really. Not in any way that mattered. The girl’s hatred was far from feigned. And she looked at him as though she wanted to tear him apart with her bare hands.

Was that what this was? Did she bring him here to destroy him? Defeat her boogeyman for good this time? His back aches. Not just the lower part that always ached at his age, but the scar too. The mark she’d left on him. He’d already overlooked her once before. Twice, perhaps. Lacey Quinn had stabbed him, but perhaps Bella played a larger role in Gabrielle’s escape than he gave her credit for. He’d always blamed her for the rift she’d caused between them, but had it been more than that? Had the girl been conspiring with Gabrielle all that time when he was gone? Whispering her plans into Gabrielle’s ear? Corrupting her?

Gabrielle arrives at the farmhouse. His back is to the door, but he can tell it’s her. He can hear the clack-clack of her heels. The frantic pace of her breathing. She closes the door behind her. His savior has arrived, and just in time to see what the girl had done to him.

“Lacey?” Gabrielle calls out, her voice warbling as she spots him. “Lacey, what did you do?”

All the scorn and hatred melts from the girl at once. “What I had to.” She says soft and little as she approaches Gabrielle. “Gabi, I don’t think you’ve been honest with me.”

“I have!”

“You said you hated him. All this time, you’ve said you hated him.”

“I do.” Gabrielle insists, eyes flitting between him and the girl.

“You said you needed him.” Her voice shakes as she says it. As though it were some terrible thing, the truth. She straightens her spine and sets her shoulders back for this next part. “That day when he got shot. You weren’t relieved. You weren’t angry. You were heartbroken. You panicked . I thought all this time back when you had him in the basement and you spent nine months lying to me that you were, I don’t know , torturing him! Making him help you solve cases to try to make up for what he’d done to us. Or, maybe, that you wanted to kill him but couldn’t. And then later, when he took me again , I figured you going with him was some act to save me. That keeping me from killing him was to save my soul, not his.”

Gabrielle steps back from him. “It was. Lacey, it was. I didn’t want that on your conscience.”

“I’m not a scared little girl anymore, Gabi. You don’t need to protect me. Not from him, and not from myself.” Lacey insists, gesturing wildly at him. “You have spent our whole lives together protecting me. Here, my room, M&A, all to keep me safe. To make me feel loved and cared for. You spend every waking minute of your life trying to protect other people from monsters like him and every night haunted by nightmares of what he’s done to us. What he continues to do to us.”

“Lacey--”

“No!” Lacey snaps. “You need him? Fine. Make your choice.” The girl plants her feet firmly, Hugh watches her curiously.

Gabrielle smiles sadly and takes the girl’s hand. “Lacey, I choose you.” She cups the girl’s cheek. “I will always choose you.”

Lacey smiles mournfully in turn, a stray tear running down her face. It plops onto his shoulder, staining his shirt. “That’s not the choice I’m asking you to make.” She whispers, squeezing Gabrielle’s hand.

Hugh blinks in confusion.

“You want to turn him in? I’ll call Trent now. You want to kill him? I’ll help you get rid of the body. You want--” Lacey shudders, wiping a stray tear from Gabrielle’s face. “It’s whatever you want, Gabi. Your whole life, our whole life, it’s never been about what you want. It should be. At least, just this once, it should be. So if you want him, if you need him, do it. I don’t care how far you go, Gabi. I don’t care how far you take this. Just… just take me with you this time.”

Gabrielle’s entirety shakes with the weight of it. “Lacey, I can’t. You are the one good constant in my life. I don’t want you to see me like that. If you saw how broken and ugly I really am inside-- how broken and ugly and evil I’d have to be to want-- want… Lacey, I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” Lacey assures in a soft, hushed little voice. “You can. You are not broken or ugly or evil for wanting things.”

“This isn’t a car, Lacey. This is--”

“I don’t care.”

“He hurt you.”

“That’s between him and me.” Lacey pets at Gabrielle’s cheek, wiping away more tears. “There is nothing you could ever do, nothing you could ever want, that would make me stop loving you. Just… no more lies, okay? No more hiding things. I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle it. Don’t you trust me to handle it?”

Gabrielle grasps onto the girl desperately, her face pressed into the crook of her shoulder. “I don’t want to ask this of you.” 

“You’re not, okay? You’re not asking for anything. I’m giving this to you. Isn’t it, I don’t know, rude to refuse a gift?” The girl holds Gabrielle to her, rubbing soothing circles into her back as Gabrielle cries. “It’s whatever you want, Gabi.”

Gabrielle cries against her.

“So, which is it?” Lacey asks. “You want to go home?”

Gabrielle sobs wordlessly against the frail, angry girl. And then Gabrielle nods.

Chapter 4: CAUGHT

CAUGHT

The next case they take is a hard one. Not just because actually finding the girl is proving to be difficult, but because the creep that took her snatched her from a park in broad daylight. It also doesn’t help that he’s a well-loved community theater director with gaggles of young, impressionable girls to vouch for him. Or that his adoration of Shakespeare is among the first things people say about him.

To begin, he’s only one among many of their suspects. But Lacey’s got a bad, bad feeling about him. And Margaret agrees he’s hiding something. 

“I wanna talk to him.” Lacey decides as they talk strategy. “One-on-one.

Gabi shakes her head. “Take Dhan with you.

“He’s used to young women trusting him. If I go alone, he’ll be less suspicious that we suspect him.” Lacey argues.

Gabi thinks on it for a moment. “True, but I don’t trust him not to do something drastic if he realizes you’re squeezing him. He’s a dangerous man.”

“I can handle myself.” Lacey insists.

Dhan sets a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stay in the car, how about that?” He suggests.

Lacey sighs, but takes the small win.

Dhan sticks to his word, at least. An honest man. Mostly . She still hasn’t gotten around to confronting him about Sir. About those nine months he knew Gabi had a monster chained in the basement and acted like everything was normal. About the fact that he helped her capture him, and never thought to say a word of it to Lacey. Then again, Lacey hasn’t told him that the monster is back. So maybe she shouldn’t be, like, that angry about it.

Lacey checks herself in the passenger mirror before heading in. Her makeup is light and airy and girlish. So are her clothes. Gone was the thick leather jacket and heavy boots. She wanted to look young today. Frail. Vulnerable. Like Eliza Giry, the waifish 14 year old he stole. She’d have gone with pigtails too, if she didn’t think it too obvious. 

Howard Eaton-- and isn’t that great, that his initials are H.E. too? But Howard Eaton welcomes her into his office nice and easy. The walls are lined with photos and posters from past productions. Everyone’s smiling. Everyone’s adoring. The exact kind of good man you don’t suspect of anything. 

Lacey Quinn doesn’t buy it for a moment. But she acts like she does.

“What can I do for you, Miss Quinn?” He asks through a mouth full of straight, white teeth. 

“Nothing, really.” She grins bright and bubbly, bouncing around his office. She masquerades her search for evidence as simple, harmless, youthful curiosity. “Sorry, this is just, like, a follow-up thing the agency requires? And I’m the intern so all menial stuff falls to me. Paperwork and copywriting. Stuff like that.” She plucks a framed photo off his desk. “That, and I wanted to meet you. Is this from a production of…?”

He smiles and circles his desk to stand beside her. “Hamlet. My last foray into the art as an actor.”

Lacey gasps girlishly. “ You did Hamlet? That’s so cool! Ugh, I bet you were good too.”

“I was.” He sets a hand on Lacey’s hip. Lacey giggles to cover her distaste for him. Howard Eaton doesn’t notice its insincerity. “Have you ever done Shakespeare?”

“Once.” Lacey’s eye trace over the photo. It’s old. Older than any of the other production photos here. If it wasn’t obvious enough from the grain of the picture, then Howard Eaton’s fuller hairline gave it away.

“Who did you play? Wait! Let me guess…” He trails off. Lacey follows his eyeline in the picture. “Beatrice? No… No, you’re not nearly argumentative enough for that. Hmm… Cordelia, perhaps?”

Lacey finds it. Finds who he’s looking at in the picture: Eliza’s mother, Sarah. The Ophelia to his Hamlet. “No, actually.” She finally mutters, setting the picture down.

“Who, then?” He asks with a rapt curiosity.

Lacey smiles. “Brutus.”

“It’s him.” Lacey announces as she bursts into M&A.

“You’re sure?” Gabi asks. “It’s not just because he’s…”

“Like Sir? No. When I was in his office, there was a photo on his desk. It was from a production of Hamlet he did as an actor. Sarah Giry was his Ophelia. He couldn’t get her, so he took Eliza.” Lacey explains, eyes flitting between Gabi and Margaret and Zeke.

“That would explain why he was so cagey when we mentioned being hired by her.” Margaret reasons.

“And why he’s been following Eliza online even before she joined his theater.” Zeke adds, typing away at his keyboard. “Take a look at this.” He pulls a few posts up. “He was in her replies, encouraging her to join his theater months before she actually auditioned.”

“But why take her from the park? Eliza was in and out of that theater all the time. He could have disappeared with her from there, and no one would have blinked an eye.” Gabi sighs, reading through the file as she thinks.

“The cameras.” Lacey mutters after a moment. “The theater has security cameras. The park doesn’t. And they do a summer Shakespeare program there too. So it wouldn’t be suspicious to see him there either, but no one would have footage of him taking her.” 

Gabi nods. “We need to find out where he’s keeping her before we make any accusations. If he knows we’re on to him, he might kill her to cover his tracks. Reputation is everything to this man. Dhan, I want you trailing him. Be subtle. Margaret, comb over any interviews he’s done. See if he mentions anything: hobbies he has outside of the theater, old girlfriends, vacation spots. Anything that could lead to where he’s keeping Eliza. Zeke, I want you to take a look at his records. See if he’s paying taxes on a second property somewhere. Lacey--” Gabi pauses.

“Where do you want me?” Lacey asks.

“You’re meeting with those friends from college tonight, right?” Gabi checks the time on her phone. “You’ve done good work today. Go get ready. I’ll call you if we need you.”

Her jaw tightens, but Lacey doesn’t fight her on it. 

She really doesn’t have that much time. But if she doesn’t do this, she’ll be a ball of angry, anxious energy all night. And the girls from Zeta Nu didn’t deserve that. Even if Lacey would prefer hunting monsters over drinks with them right now. That had nothing to do with them, though, and everything to do with the monsters.

“Do you need to spar?” Sir asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Lacey shakes her head, straightening her shoulders as her wrapped fists hit the punching bag. “I don’t have the time. I’ve got this thing I promised some friends I would go to. I just need to not feel like this , so.” She hits it again. Thud thud.

“Difficult case?” Sir saunters into the room.

Thud thud . “Yeah.”

“I’m surprised you’re not working overtime.” Sir’s dress shoes sink into the matted floor as he nears.

Thud thud thud . “Gabi sent me home.” Thud thud . “Said I did good work today.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you angry?” He asks, catching the punching bag as it swings and holding it still.

“I’m not--” Lacey pauses and catches her breath. “I thought after everything we’ve been through, Gabi would have stopped with the kiddie gloves by now. But it doesn’t matter what I do. It doesn’t matter what I’m capable of, she still sees me as a helpless little girl.”

Sir hums. “She just wants to protect you. You’re important to her.” He nods towards the bag.

Lacey adjusts her stance. “Maybe. But I’m not made of glass.” Thud thud. 

“You’re right. You aren’t.” He agrees. Thud thud. “But if you want someone to see you a certain way, you have to act like it.”

“Oh, and I don’t?” Lacey scoffs. Thud thud thud. 

“A partner is someone who, though amenable to the desires of their love, acts independently. A pet, as you’ve so aptly put it before, is someone who takes orders. Someone who rolls over at the faintest command or whistle.” He explains simply.

Thud thud . “You’re trying to get me in trouble.” Lacey dismisses him. Thud thud. “You know I’m the favorite. You want me in the doghouse.”

Sir laughs to himself. “Funny you should phrase it in such a way. The doghouse .”

Lacey pauses, jaw tight as he laughs. “You are the worst gift I have ever given her.” She spits, flesh hot and heart pounding.

“I am a far cry away from those garish purple curtains you insisted upon hanging up.” He counters with a bemused smile. “This case is personal to you, isn’t it?”

“Every case is personal to me. You made sure of that.” Lacey sighs, nabbing her bottle from the floor and gulping down a few mouthfuls of water.

Sir rolls his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I know. Hugh Evans the monster. But you seem to take this one more personally than the others.”

“Yeah, well… Howard Eaton is a beloved community theater director who’s been watching this girl for ages, kidnapped her from a public park in broad daylight, and is obsessed with Shakespeare. So, you do the math on that one.” Lacey huffs, drinking more water.

“Ah.” Sir sighs. “You think he’s like me.”

“Yes and no.” Lacey shrugs. “You’re not particularly handsy. Or balding . But yeah the comparisons are there. And it’s hard enough having you in the house when I can pretend everything is fine and normal. But with cases like this, I… I can’t help but remember what you did to us.”

“Maybe it will be a good thing, then. You getting out of the house for the night. Focusing on something other than the case.” Sir reasons.

Lacey shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be able to think about anything other than Eliza Giry until we find her.”

“You and Gabrielle both.” Sir mutters to himself. Then, a twinkle appears in his eye. “How do you know he’s handsy?”

“Went to talk to him today. I am, apparently, very his type.” Lacey explains, combing a hand through her thick hair.

“He seems quite lecherous.” Sir remarks.

“Like I said, there are similarities but it’s not one-to-one.”

Sir eyes her. “ Hmm .”

“I need to shower.” Lacey sighs, ducking out of the gym. 

Drinks with the Zeta Nu girls goes well. Better than Lacey thought they would, at least. They all meshed well enough together. And it was nice to socialize with people who only knew her as Lacey Quinn, the girl that puked Jager shots onto the dean’s shoes on Halloween . Maybe she needs to make a habit of this. Maybe she needs to get out a bit more.

But still, the case haunts her. Eliza Giry only had so much time. Even if he didn’t kill her, Howard Eaton wasn’t too puritanical to--

If she thinks about it for too long, Lacey Quinn will quite literally go mad. And she’s been crazy before. It was of no use to anyone.

It’s not that late, though. The Zeta Nu girls had called things early. Everyone was a real adult now, too grown to drink until sunrise and still make it to work the next day. Lacey wonders if Gabi’s still awake. If she was combing over details of the case right now, or if Sir had corralled her into turning in early. Nudged her into getting a good night’s rest just like he nudges her into eating an actual dinner each night. Perhaps the only man alive to call a woman his “wife” and not insinuate anything when he insists upon getting her to bed.

Lacey probably shouldn’t think about that, though. Think about the quiet, intimate moments they must have when she’s gone. That’s weird and wrong and anyways she needs to focus on the case. She needs to focus on Eliza Giry and the monster that took her.

And then it hits her. 

“Miss Quinn?” Howard Eaton blinks at her in confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

Lacey smiles girlishly. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop by. Can I come in?”

“Sure, but--” Howard steps aside as Lacey breezes into his apartment. “How did you get my address?”

Lacey shakes off her coat. “Part of the whole background check thing we run on everyone at the agency. I really hope you don’t mind. I could get in big trouble if you told anyone I looked at your file.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Now, would we?” He smiles in a poor approximation of charm. The man didn’t drip venom, like Sir, but grease.

“You have such a nice apartment!” Her voice is bright and cheery. “Your wife must be quite the decorator.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I don’t have a wife, Miss Quinn.”

“Fiance, then?” Lacey prompts, eyes flitting about his pictures and posters.

“No.”

She turns, her hair bouncing. “Girlfriend?”

“No. No one.” He swallows awkwardly.

“Hmm.” Lacey hums, brushing past him as she casually explores his apartment. “That’s a shame. And a surprise. I’d have thought a man like you would be swimming in offers. What with all the Shakespeare. It’s so romantic!”

“I did want to ask, after our conversation… What kind of production of Julius Caesar were you doing that they thought someone as beautiful and delicate as you should be Brutus? Even in an all-female cast, I wouldn’t peg you for Brutus .” He follows her as she wanders.

“Most people wouldn’t.” Her eyes flit to a framed picture. Surrounded by production photos and framed playbills, it all-but sticks out. Howard Eaton stands in front of a small, run down house at the edge of a lake. Dense foliage surrounds the place. Even in the middle of nowhere, he’s still wearing dress shoes. His thinning hair combed just so. “Where’s this?” Lacey asks breathily, gesturing to the photo. “It’s so beautiful. You must take all your girlfriends there.”

“Oh, that old place?” He waves dismissively. “Please, I’d never take a pretty girl like you there. It’s just this old, run down little spot. It belongs to my cousin. He just never goes there, so I do a little upkeep from time-to-time.”

“I didn’t know you had a cousin! How fun.” Lacey smiles at him till he gives.

“Oh,” He coughs awkwardly. “Well, he’s not really my cousin. We’ve just known each other since we were kids. Grew up on the same street. Went to school together, that kind of thing.”

“You’re such a good friend.” Lacey coos.

He chuckles. “Well, thank you .”

“Could we, like, get a picture together?” Lacey asks, pulling out her phone. She fusses with it, snapping a photo of the photo with a girlish oops .

Howard Eaton doesn’t catch on. “Of course, if you want.” He cozies up to her, a hand on her hip that wanders lower and lower until he grabs her ass.

The man disgusts her, but Lacey’s smile is real. Howard Eaton will be in prison this time tomorrow.

It’s just past midnight when she finally gets in. She shuts the door behind her softly and clicks the locks into place. Zeke’s a night owl by nature. He’s already tracking down the cabin from the information Lacey gave him by the time she gets home. There’d be nothing to do until the morning, at least. She could sleep peacefully.

“Have fun?” Sir asks, reading by lamplight in the living room.

Lacey smiles soft and tired. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Gabi still awake?”

“She wanted to wait up for you, but I promised I would.” He adjusts his glasses, glancing up from his novel. “Tomorrow’s going to be a very busy day for her. She’ll need the rest.”

“Yes.” Lacey agrees. “Yes, she will.”

Gabi Mosely bursts onto the scene at 8 in the morning. It was a little more than an hour’s drive, and that would be how long it takes DCPD to arrive. Gabi busts the door down in 6 inch heels and a full beat. And when Lacey trails in behind her, the place is precisely as she imagined it: dank and dark and inhospitable. A place unbefitting human residency, that’s where he shoved her. Eliza Giry clings to Gabi as she limps out of the worn, busted down cabin. And when Trent and his cops finally arrive, they come bearing awful news.

Howard Eaton is nowhere to be found.

A chill runs down Lacey’s spine. She takes a deep breath and tightens a fist. 

They still do their little ritual when they get back. Even if Howard Eaton was still out there, Eliza Giry had been found. So they do their tequila shots and they dance and celebrate having brought another missing person home. Gabi even insists Lacey put her picture on the wall. 

 

“How’d you get that picture of the cabin? And the bit about it being his friend’s?” Gabi asks on the car ride home.

Lacey shrugs casually. “I stopped by his apartment after drinks with the girls.”

“You went alone ?” Gabi nearly stops the car right there.

“Yep.” Lacey smiles. “And here I am. All in one piece.”

 

And Lacey Quinn is a strong, brave girl. But all that bravery does nothing to calm her when she awakens shrieking that night. There’s a man watching her at the park. No one believes her. There’s a man watching from her window. No one believes her. There’s a monster hiding in her closet. No one believes her.

There’s a monster chained up in the basement. She toes down the stairs deft and quiet and still clutching at her chest. Her skin is clammy, the old t-shirt she wore to sleep clinging to her flesh. She clicks on the light. It flickers. He doesn’t get much light down here. He sleeps peacefully in the cold, dank space. His scratchy, wool blanket pulled around him.

Lacey watches him. Watches his chest rise and fall. Watches his brow furrow. Watches him twitch in his sleep. Yes, the monster in her closet is real. But the monster in her closet lives in the basement now. And he isn’t going to hurt her. Not anymore. He can’t. Because if he did, Gabi would never forgive him. Because if he did, Gabi would get rid of him for good this time. Because if he did, Gabi might actually kill him.

Lacey steps closer. Her bare feet are silent against the cold concrete floor. The shape of him, usually so big and threatening, is strangely meek here. He looks younger. Kinder. Almost frail.

“ Bella? ” He murmurs.

Lacey almost jumps. 

“ ...you need… spar? ” Sir pulls the blanket closer around him.

Good. He’s still asleep. Lacey doesn’t have to explain why she creeped down to the basement to just watch him for a while. She takes a long, deep breath and climbs back up the stairs.

Gabi’s waiting for her in the kitchen. “Bad dream?” She asks, leaning across the counter with a mug of tea.

Lacey takes it gratefully. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Lacey shakes her head. “It’s the same dream it always is. A monster in my closet no one believes me about.”

Gabi frowns. “If he’s making things worse for you, he doesn’t have to stay.” She offers.

She means it, Lacey knows she does, but she waves her off anyway. “It’s not him doing it this time. He’s been good. Well, as good as he can be. It’s the case, I think. I really thought we were gonna nail him. That creep, Howard Eaton.”

“We will. He’s not getting away for good.” Gabi promises, rubbing soothing circles into Lacey’s back.

And it is comforting. It is nice. But it’s too nice. The hot tea warms her gullet. The kind hand trails up and down her back. The nails that brush against her clammy flesh.

“Eliza won’t be free till we find him. Not really.” Lacey mutters into her mug.

“I know, baby. But we can’t do that without a good night’s rest.”

Gabi tugs her into a hug. She means for it to be comforting, but it’s anything but. Lacey hides her face in the crook of Gabi’s shoulder and tries desperately-- just so desperately, to slow her pounding heart. The sallow, clammy skin of her nightmares warms and warms until color floods her cheeks. She could do this . Gabi was only comforting her. The situation wasn’t weird, she was making it weird. In a moment, Gabi would pull away and they would go their separate ways and Lacey would lie awake for a while forcing herself to calm down so she could get to sleep. It was fine.

“Why don’t you come sleep in my bed tonight?” Gabi offers softly. “Like when we were kids.”

It is not fine.

Lacey yanks herself from Gabi’s grasp. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She sets her mug on the counter and backs away.

Gabi looks to her hurt and confused and that’s somehow worse. 

“I’m sorry.” Lacey whispers, sprinting up to her room and locking the door.

Eliza Giry doesn’t quite lose her voice. Not like Lacey did back when she was Bella. But the caged songbird stops singing and her mother worries. So Lacey arrives with an easel and a variety of supplies to choose from and she and the girl sit side by side as they draw.

Eliza Giry takes to charcoal easily, so Lacey matches her. The girl works on something big and near-violent. The kind of thing Bella would have been scared to show anyone. But Eliza presents it to Lacey without a second thought. Artistically, it’s good. The girl’s got talent, but that’s not the point. The point is the monster with a receding hairline and straight, white teeth is contained, if only for a moment, to the portrait. If Sir were here, he’d make some grand allusion to The Picture of Dorian Gray. If Gabi were here, she might see the eeriness of the portrait as worrisome. But Lacey knows there’s a simple, comforting pleasure to committing whatever plagues your mind to paper or canvas. It was almost as satisfying as hitting a punching bag. Or monster.

When Lacey glances back to her own easel, she finds Gabi’s brightwarmbrilliant smile staring back at her. Her eyes glittering the way they do when she laughs. Glittering the way they do when Lacey specifically makes her laugh. Eliza Giry leans over to see what Lacey’s drawn, and elbows her with a you’re good! Lacey snaps from her half-trance and tears the portrait from the stack of paper.

“Here, you can keep it.” Lacey smiles. The charcoal stains her palms. The dark powder dug beneath her nails. Her hands feel as dirty as they’ve ever been. She feels like Lady Macbeth that night trying to wash it from her hands. Not just the charcoal, but the horrid heat and longing she felt at the sight of her. The horrid heat and longing she feels more and more often lately. She’d paint, but it doesn’t help any. Not anymore. She doesn’t sleep regardless. She doesn’t know when she will. 

Gabi’s sick as a dog the next morning. And though she’s running entirely on fumes herself, Lacey springs into action. A case waiting at M&A, Gabi of course tries to fumble through the process of getting ready so she can solve it. But horrid, wrongbad, complicated feelings aside, Lacey is not about to let her work sick. So though her skin feels as hot as the fevered flesh of Gabi’s, Lacey tugs her away from the front door and back towards her bedroom. Gabi tries to put up a fight, insists upon getting to the office. But Lacey bats her eyes, and Gabi gives it up in an instant. Lacey helps her back into bed and tugs the covers back up. Gabi groans in pain and tosses and turns. 

“What hurts?” Lacey coos, pressing the back of her hand to Gabi’s forehead. She had a fever for sure.

“Head.” Gabi coughs. “Too much pressure.”

“Okay.” Lacey frowns in sympathy and tucks her in. “Stay here. I’ll make you some tea.”

Lacey rushes to the kitchen. She taps her toe impatiently as she waits for the kettle to heat. 

“I can look after her, if you need to get to the office.” Sir offers softly.

Lacey shakes her head. “Even if I don’t have what she has, I’m probably infectious. I’m gonna work from home. But we’re out of decongestants so I’ve got a grocery order coming. If you hear them on the porch before I do, can you let me know?”

“Of course.” Sir agrees, glancing to the kettle as it whistles. “If you would like to take her the tea, I’ll bring up some soup?”

“That would be great.” Lacey steeps Gabi’s tea, spooning honey into the mug. “Thank you. I mean it, really.”

Sir nods. “I know you do.”

 

Gabi’s freezing when she returns. She takes the tea, greedily drinking the entire steaming mug as Lacey gathers as many blankets as she can find. By the time Lacey’s done, Gabi has all-but disappeared beneath the mountain of wool and cotton. But it’s not enough.

“ I’m cooooold .” Gabi groans.

Lacey digs a space heater out of the hall closet and sets it on max. Her phone buzzes. Zeke’s sent her a digital copy of the case file.

“Is that the driver with the groceries?” Sir asks, holding a tray with Gabi’s soup.

“Zeke with the case. Watch her for a minute, will you?” Lacey’s brow furrows as she skims the file.

Sir nods and ducks into Gabi’s room. He sits at the edge of her bed, helping her sit up. He tries to feed her the soup himself, but Gabi waves him off. Lacey tries to focus on the case file, but her eyes just gloss over the words and photos. She should be better. She should be capable of multitasking. She needs to be better.

The doorbell rings and Lacey gives Sir a single frantic look before darting off.

 

Okay. She’s going to put these groceries away, give Gabi her medicine, and help solve the case from the house. That’s really only three things, and two of them would only take a few minutes. Lacey sets all the groceries on the counter and digs through for the medicine Gabi needs to take if she’s going to get any rest. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she knows it’s Zeke again but she ignores it.

“ Lacey! ” Gabi calls out.

Lacey sprints to Gabi’s room, decongestants in hand. “I have them.” She assures, pushing pills from their blister pack. “Take these.”

Gabi swallows the tablets with a mouthful of water.

“You’ll be okay.” Lacey coos. “Just give them time to kick in.” She pushes a stray loc from Gabi’s face. “I’m gonna go put the groceries away, okay?”

“Stay here.” Gabi half-begs, her voice weak.

“I’ll put the groceries away.” Sir volunteers, taking Gabi’s empty soup bowl on his way out.

Lacey sits in the chair beside Gabi’s bed. “I think you’ll feel a lot better when the medicine kicks in. All the head stuff is just congestion, I’m sure.”

Gabi groans, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “There’s a case--”

“We will take care of it without you. No one will be left un-found. Rest .” Lacey insists through a yawn.

Gabi groans again, but doesn’t fight her on it. “Will you read to me? Just till I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Lacey agrees, glancing about the room for whatever Gabi was currently reading herself. Her eyes land on a copy of Little Women and of course that’s what she’s reading. Yes. Good. A story about sisters. Lacey grabs it and sits back in the chair beside Gabi’s bed, ignoring the buzzing in her pocket as she reads. She only makes it a few paragraphs before Gabi groans again.

“I’m cold.” She mumbles. “Come get under the covers with me.”

Lacey half-closes the book. “Oh, I don’t know if--”

“ Please? ” Gabi reaches for her.

“Okay.” Lacey agrees. She sets her phone on the nightstand, the screen flashing with each new message. Gabi clings to her the moment she slides beneath the mountain of blankets. And Gabi’s sick. Literally, she is ill. But the contact, the skin pressed against skin, still stirs something in her. Lacey wraps an arm around her and breathes carefully as Gabi nuzzles into the crook of her neck. She uses her other hand to thumb the book open. Maybe if she focuses on Little Women , maybe if she focuses on normal, healthy sisterhood, she’ll make it through a day of Gabi clinging desperately to her without making it weird . 

Lacey eyes her buzzing phone for a moment, and begins to read.

 

"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth."

"Why, Mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came."

"It's not her health that troubles me now, it's her spirits. I'm sure there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is."

"What makes you think so, Mother?"

 

Gabi nuzzles closer and hums against her chest. Lacey freezes, every muscle in her body taut and tense.

“Keep going.” Gabi whispers. “You’ve always had such a calming voice.”

Lacey lets out a long breath. She could do this. She rests a cheek on Gabi’s head and keeps reading.

 

"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"I have tried once or twice, but she either evaded my questions or looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence, and I seldom have to wait for long."

 

Lacey relaxes a bit. Gabi’s breath was slowing and with the blankets it was so warm and comfortable, she’d surely be asleep soon. And then Lacey could simply slip out, help solve the case, and continue pretending as though everything is fine.

 

Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed quite

 unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's, and after sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said, "I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them. Why, Mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman."

"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her mother with a sigh and a smile.

"Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you."

 

Yes, everything is fine. Because Lacey will get over this eventually. Gabi will never even have to know. And it doesn’t matter how horrible it gets, Lacey isn’t leaving. Lacey can’t leave. Because though she gifted Gabi Sir, it was Gabi who asked her to stay. Gabi who asked her to move in and be a family and make things work. And Gabi would never ask Lacey for anything she wasn’t certain Lacey was capable of. And even if she isn’t, Lacey made a promise.

Lacey blinks awake slowly. Still cozy beneath the covers, Gabi’s face pressed against her sternum, Lacey’s cheeks are a near fire engine red. It was the exact kind of too warm that felt cozy instead of cloying. Her mouth dry and tongue plush, Lacey realizes she had fallen asleep while reading. She looks about for the book and realizes someone is speaking.

Sir sits in a chair on the other side of the bed. He holds Gabi’s hand in one hand and Little Women in the other. 

 

"You really think so, Mother?"

 

His voice is animated, but soft. His thumb traces over Gabi’s hand as he reads.

 

"I know it, Meg, for I've tried it, and I seldom give advice unless I've proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on just as you are, feeling as if I didn't do my duty unless I devoted myself wholly to you. Poor Father took to his books, after I had refused all offers of help, and left me to try my experiment alone. I struggled along as well as I could, but Jo was too much for me. I nearly spoiled her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell sick myself.”

 

Lacey watches him for a moment, his eyes never leave the page. Sir continues to read as Lacey scrolls through her phone. She had slept all day, and yet there were only a few notifications waiting for her. She almost panics when she sees a message from Zeke.

 

Zeke: ur theory about the uncle was right checked the harddrive and…

Zeke: woof. made ME feel dirty just finding it

 

Lacey squints at her phone, scrolling through a backlog of messages she did not send. 

Sir continues reading.

 

“Then Father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything, and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been able to get on without him since. That is the secret of our home happiness. He does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always."

 

Lacey clicks her phone off and sits up as much as she can without waking Gabi.

“You didn’t wake me?” Lacey whispers. It’s half an accusation, half a question.

Sir looks up from the book, marks the page, and sets it aside. “You haven’t been sleeping lately.”

“I was managing. I was going to put away the groceries and take care of Gabi and help solve the case.” Lacey sighs.

“The milk is in the fridge. Gabrielle has spent the whole day sleeping. And the missing girl has safely been returned to her home.” Sir smiles fondly at Gabi. “Her fever broke a few hours ago. I think, perhaps, she needed the rest more than anything. The body understands what it needs and will take it by force if ignored.”

Lacey frowns. “This must be heaven to you, Gabi weak and at your mercy.”

Sir takes the insult in stride. “Gabrielle is never weak.”

 

Eventually, Lacey slips out from beneath the covers without waking Gabi. She pockets her phone and catches up on what she missed from the privacy of her room. Sir had sent a series of “taking care of gabi, can only text.” s and “got a chance to review the case file, i don’t like the uncle. ”s and “gab’s doing great, don’t worry. ”s from her phone. Infuriatingly, he seems to have her cadence down pat. Lacey swipes over to settings and is halfway through swapping the FaceID for a keycode when she realizes what her go-to is.

Gabi’s birthday.

May as well leave the FaceID then if she’s going to be that obvious. Lacey dedicates about a half hour to digging through her texts and emails and Instagram DMs to see if he had sent anything else, but no. The only texts sent had to do with the case. She checks her banking app, and he hadn’t bought anything either. Nothing all too strange in the search history, just a series of queries about which pain relievers were best for fevers and a couple locations Lacey recognized as having to do with the case. It was still an invasion of privacy, but at least it didn’t seem as though he was plotting anything.

Lacey washes her face and heads to the kitchen. In all her sleeping, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was starving. Sir stands at the sink, his shoulders hunched as he washes Gabi’s soup bowl from earlier. He coughs briskly, his skin sallow and clammy and flushed. He’s trying to push through it, but it’s obvious he had caught whatever Gabi had.

“Out.” Lacey orders.

Sir continues scrubbing at the bowl. “I will return to the basement in a moment when I’m done.”

“No, you won’t.” Lacey shoves at his shoulder till he sets the bowl down and faces her fully. “Go lay down on the couch.” Sir gives her a look. “The basement is cold and wet, two things that’ll only make this--” She gestures broadly to his drippy nose and clammy skin. “Worse. Now go . Don’t make me fight you on this. You are ancient, actively ill, and far less intelligent than me. I’ll win .” Sir sighs, but goes. Lacey makes them sandwiches and tea and sits next to him.

Sir eyes the sandwiches. “If I had known you were going to make food, I’d have sat at the table like--”

“A civilized gentleman?” Lacey quips through a mouthful of lunchmeat. “ Please . There is nothing gentle about you.” She pops pills from their foil packet and presses them into his hand.

“ Hmm .” Sir hums to himself, taking the medicine. He squints, watching her as they eat.

“What?” Lacey bites.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “No, but you’re thinking something. Just spit it out.”

Sir considers his words for a moment. “You are a better nurse than Gabrielle.”

Lacey stops midway through another bite of her sandwich. She sets it aside, finishing the bite before speaking. “Well I’m not her, so…”

“No.” He agrees, just the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You are not.”

Lacey twitches beneath the quiet intensity of his gaze. “Prop yourself up with pillows when you sleep so the mucus doesn’t collect in your sinuses.” She says with an awkward cough. “There are extra blankets in the closet-- you already know that. You know where everything is . I don’t need to be doing this. I’m going to bed.”

Gabi’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by the next morning. Sir’s still working through the worst of his sickness. Lacey watches as Gabi tosses a blister pack of medicine at him on their way out. She doesn’t bother to look back to see if he caught it. He didn’t, but he grabs it from the floor. For her part, Lacey doesn’t catch so much as a sniffle from either of them. 

Even as terse as their dynamic was, Lacey couldn’t deny that something truly did bind Gabi to Sir. Or perhaps Sir to Gabi. Lacey only wished she could say the same. But there was nothing cosmic about her. Nothing fated about their meeting. In the best version of Gabi’s life, one where he never takes her and they find each other under much kinder circumstances, Lacey is still Bella. Lacey is still an only child in her mother’s home waiting for her father to come back so she can gush about whatever meaningless trinket he’s brought her. 

 

“Are you angry with me?” Gabi asks one day, cornering her at the office.

Lacey feels herself begin to panic almost instantly. “No!” She assures with wide, wet eyes. “ Never .”

 

On the next case they work-- a missing postman who disappeared halfway through his route, Gabi splits the team up. Zeke tracks his phone. Margaret and Dhan question his few living relatives. And Gabi and Lacey survey the route he worked. He was a sociable type. Nearly everyone on his route knew him, though it was mothers and elders who knew him best. The work isn’t easy, but it’s usual. No big turns or twists in this case. Not so far, at least.

“Lace, can I ask you something?” Gabi says between houses.

Lacey stops walking. “Yeah, of course.”

“Why don’t you want to be called Bella anymore?” Gabi whispers.

Lacey inhales. “It’s just a lot.” 

They solve the postman case. It turns out he’d been hiding his early onset Alzeimhers and had wandered off one day and gotten lost. Lost in the cityscape of D.C., yes, but lost too in his own sense of shame. When he returns, the people who loved him, the people who relied on him, welcome him back with open arms. Even if he is a bit broken now.

But the world is an awful, terrifying place. And there is always more work to do. Lacey’s easel remains abandoned in the corner of her room. She focuses, instead, on Eliza Giry’s case. The girl had taken to Lacey rather well, but even if she hadn’t the case would still haunt her. Howard Eaton was still at large, and Eliza wouldn’t find peace until he was behind bars where he belonged.

Lacey sits cross legged on her bed, the case’s file spread out around her as she works. She couldn’t quite peg him, Howard Eaton. His pursuit of Eliza was relentless. He’d crept into her life slow and steady like death dripping from a water damaged ceiling about to cave in. He was meticulous and obsessive. And yet, it seemed as though it was hardly about Eliza at all. The girls who trusted him, of which there were many, bathed him in praise. He’d seemed surprised, though accepting, of Lacey’s own advances. And sure, Lacey could be convincing when she wanted. But why go through all the trouble to kidnap one specific girl if any would do? Why follow her ? Why snatch her up?

Sir shuffles groggily into her doorway. His hair a mess and eyes still crusty from sleep, he must have only just awoken.

“I can see you.” Lacey huffs, looking over the files again. “Nostalgic for your closet haunting days, are we?”

“No.” Sir answers in a gruff voice. “Bad dream, is all.”

“Hmm.” Lacey hums apathetically. “Gabi’s room is down the hall.”

“It is.” He agrees, watching her for a half moment longer before turning to go.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lacey calls out softly.

Sir turns back.

“After our escape, you said you were stalking me to get to Gabi. If that was the case, why lurk in my closet? Why leave little notes behind in my word searches?” Lacey asks, plucking a photo from the pile. Howard Eaton stands amidst a gaggle of young women all far too eager to please.

“Stalking is about an unfulfilled fantasy.” He answers simply.

Lacey sets the photo aside. “Yeah, I know. But where’s the fantasy in that?”

Sir lingers in the doorway for a moment more. “Goodnight, Lacey.”

Gabi goes with her the next time she visits Eliza Giry. The songbird has begun to sing again, but she still asks for her. Still asks for a visit from the cool, badass lawyer lady with the big black boots. Lacey plays her loud, angry punk music as they draw and Eliza takes to the crunchy guitars and shrill vocalists like a fish to water. 

They sit together, the three little women, as they sketch. Eliza sketches Lacey, Lacey sketches a study of hands, and Gabi tries to draw. It all works out spectacularly, though. Gabi’s a good sport about the gentle ribbing Eliza gives her about the misshapen, half-abstract sketch. And when Lacey takes a break from practicing hands to get a good look at it, she realizes what Gabi was attempting at: the farmhouse.

Lacey doesn’t say a word, though. Those were Gabi’s demons to fight. And Lacey knows Gabi well enough to know she’d never fight them in front of a girl like Eliza Giry. Eliza Giry had enough going on as is.

“Wow, you’re really good!” Gabi praises, tracing just the tip of her fingers over the image. “You really captured her. That little… look in her eye.” Gabi fawns over the piece for a few moments more.

“Thanks.” Eliza says in a small, shy voice. “I wanted a piece to match the one she drew so I could have something of you both.”

Lacey pales.

“The one Lacey drew?” Gabi asks curiously.

“Uh-huh!” Eliza bounces through her room, digging the charcoal portrait from behind a stack of posters in her closet. “I wanted to get it framed, but she drew it last time. Isn’t she good?”

Gabi’s eyes scan over the portrait. They crinkle as she smiles. “You’re right, Eliza. Lacey is good.”

Lacey freezes at her easel, her eyes glued to the array of hands she’s spent the past hour sketching.

“How come you didn’t show me this one?” Gabi asks.

Lacey sketches. “I gave it to Eliza.”

“You should have taken a picture, you captured me so well!” Gabi insists, clapping a hand onto her shoulder.

Lacey just keeps sketching. “It was only a drawing. It’s not that good. I did it in like a minute.”

“Well, if it took you a minute to do that, just think of what you could do with more time!” Gabi presses her cheek to Lacey’s shoulder. “We should have you paint something for the house.” She whispers.

“Of course.” Lacey agrees, her voice cracking. “Whatever you want, Gabi.”

So now Lacey is painting Gabi’s portrait. It’s going just about as well as one could expect. Which is to say Lacey works into the late hours of the night, every night, in an effort to get it done as fast as possible. When they’re working together at M&A, Lacey can focus on the case. When they’re eating together at home, Lacey can let Sir fill the gaps in conversation. But here, with Gabi sitting for her portrait, Lacey can focus on nothing but gabigabigabi . Which is not good. Lacey already thinks of nothing but gabigabigabi most days.

It is impossible to deny her beauty like this. Impossible to deny the charm that seems just inherent to her as a person. She sits and holds her pose perfectly. There’s a coyness to her. A twinkle in her eyes as Lacey paints. Then, of course, there’s the sheer intimacy of it. Staring at each other for hours at a time. Gabi in her bedroom once more like when they were kids. Except they’re not kids anymore. And they haven’t been for a long time.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Gabi asks one session.

Lacey shrugs, focusing on the portrait. “Lots of stuff. The Eliza Giry case, still. I can’t seem to crack Howard Eaton’s motivation. I try to get into his mind, but I just can’t.”

“You’re not a monster. You’ll probably never understand him.”

Lacey frowns. “I just don’t understand going through all that effort for a girl you don’t even care about. Howard Eaton had a wandering gaze. He’s slimy, lecherous. He thinks highly of himself. He feels entitled to the attention and bodies of the young women he works with. And sure he’s pissed Sarah wanted nothing to do with him, but why take Eliza? He’s obsessed with his reputation. Surely, he had to know that would bury any good will the community had for him.”

Gabi thinks for a moment, the setting sun making a halo of light behind her. “Maybe he was going scorched earth.”

“Or maybe Eliza was never supposed to live to tell the tale.” Lacey realizes. 

 

They get a police detail posted outside the Giry’s house, but Lacey’s still got a bad feeling about the whole thing. She spends her evenings painting, her nights poring over the case file, and her mornings pretending like she slept well. Lacey Quinn does not sleep well. Not anymore. Between the cold sweat of her nightmares and the burning heat of her dreams, even what little sleep she does get isn’t any good. And yes, she has a therapist. But words have power. Saying it out loud makes it real. And anyways, they’d likely judge her. As they should.

Gabi’s spending the evening setting up some kind of database with Zeke. Lacey takes the opportunity to work through some things in her own weird, unhealthy, maladaptive way.

 

Lacey makes a B-line for the basement when she gets home. Doesn’t even bother changing from her work clothes or setting down her purse. He’s not down there, but that isn’t the point. She paws through his things with a frantic energy unbecoming of the strong, competent, survivor she play-acted at while at work. She doesn’t know quite what she’s looking for. She can’t imagine he has anything all that damning down here. The war is over. He won. He doesn’t need the ropes or the drugs or the poison anymore. He gets to be with Gabi. He gets to live in her house and cook her meals and kiss her. He probably gets to do more than that, but they both have enough decorum not to show it in front of Lacey. Lacey knows, though. Lacey knows all the ways they meld and mesh together as one. Lacey knows all the ways he gets to have her that she never will.

She digs through piles of books. Searches under his mattress. Tries to find something. Anything . Maybe he simply hid things well. Or, maybe, he truly had nothing to hide now. How nice that must be. She digs and digs and digs and digs and only when his little cell is an utter wreck does she finally find something.

A polaroid photograph of her and Gabi. They’re scrunched up together under the covers. Gabi’s face pressed so far into Lacey’s shoulder it’s hard to tell when one ends and the other begins. They look content. Peaceful. Lacey’s entirely relaxed into her. The photo’s dated and labeled Gabrielle and Bella, Asleep. Lacey’s jaw tightens at that. The photo felt wrong. Intrusive. A quiet, private moment Lacey should get to deny ever even happened. But here, hidden among his stupid, boring books was the living proof of it. That moment sketched eternal through some chemical process invented ages ago.

“You’ve made quite a mess of things.” Sir remarks, looming behind her.

Lacey rises to her feet. “You’re a fucking creep!” She spits, gesturing wildly with the photo. Sir rolls his eyes and turns. Lacey follows as he leisurely makes his way upstairs. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” Sir continues his traipse about the house as Lacey stomps after him in her heavy boots. THUNK-thunk, THUNK-thunk. “I said, I’m talking to you!” She snaps, following him as he enters the gym.

“I am well aware.” Sir tosses her a mouth guard.

Lacey catches it, tearing the package open and shoving the silicone into her mouth. She drops her purse to the floor, shakes off her jacket, and launches herself at him. 

Sir dodges her first punch with ease. “You haven’t been sleeping well, Lacey.”

“I’ve been busy.” She awkwardly spits out around the mouth guard. 

“Yes, the portrait. I know. It’s coming along wondrously, by the way. You really capture Gabrielle’s spirit. Your love for her radiates from every brush stroke.” Sir tuts as Lacey tries to hit him again. “But Gabrielle is not an artist, Lacey. She is a woman of words.”

Lacey bites down on the mouth guard and gets a good hit in on his left kidney. “You know what will--” Lacey begins, her words a muddled mess through the guard. She spits it out and hits him again. “You know what will happen if I do. You just want her to yourself.” Another hit. “ Selfish asshole. As though you don’t already get enough.”

“Is that what this is?” Sir taunts, grabbing her arm. “And here I thought I was the obsessive, possessive monster.”

Lacey yanks her arm from his grasp and steps back. “Yeah, I know.” She spits with a come get me gesture. “You and her are fated. Soulmates. Eternal. I’m just some shitty toy you gave her to shut her up. The boy-wonder sidekick who just won’t grow up. An obligation she’s too good to be rid of.”

Sir lunges at her, growling when he misses. “You’re hurting her, you know that?”

“ I’m hurting her?” Lacey howls out a bitter laugh. “You kidnap her, hold her captive for a year, stalk her for twenty, kidnap me again to fuck with her, and I’m the one hurting her?”

“Yes.” Sir answers simply. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t understand why you’re pulling away from her. She thinks she’s done something wrong.”

Lacey shoves at him. He hardly budges. “She’s not wrong, I am. I see the way she looks at you. It’s different. Different from the way she looks at me. It’s even different from the way she looked at Trent when they were a thing. You two are actually, infuriatingly, special.” Lacey kicks at his thigh, and Sir grunt. “In Gabi’s best life, she would still love you and I wouldn’t even exist. Not to her, at least. Not in any way that matters.”

“We’re not living another life.” Sir growls, grabbing Lacey’s arm and yanking her closer. “We’re living this life. The life where Gabrielle left the farmhouse because of you.”

“You’re still mad about that?” Lacey scoffs.

Sir grabs her other arm. “The life where I am only here because you gave me to her.”

Lacey tries desperately to worm her way out of his hold. “It would have happened eventually anyway.” She huffs, pounding at his chest.

“No.” Sir grunts. “It wouldn’t have. Gabrielle would have lived her entire life alone, keeping everyone she loves at an emotional arm’s length. An entire life repressing everything she feels. Convinced that that’s how things had to be because no one else in the world would ever understand what she needs.”

“Yeah, well…” Lacey trails off with a sniffle. “She has you now. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Sir rolls his eyes. “You don’t even believe that. If you did, you’d have left already.”

“Maybe I should. Maybe that would be better than…” Lacey pulls away from him. “What if… What if she doesn’t feel the same way? Hmm? What if I tell her and it ruins things?”

Sir sighs and looks to her earnestly. “Loving someone means giving them the power to hurt you and knowing they won’t. Hoping they won’t.”

“But that’s the thing, Gabi would never hurt me. Not on purpose. What if I tell her and she just pretends to love me back to save my feelings?” Lacey wipes at her face.

“Gabrielle is a bad, obvious liar.”

“To you.” Lacey grits her teeth and swings at him. “She lied to me for twenty years!”

Sir dodges her. “She lied to herself, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“Still. You of all people don’t think it’s weird? We’re like sisters.”

Sir shrugs. “You experienced a very intense trauma together at a young age. One where you spent a lot of time alone. One that Gabrielle helped you work through and heal from. It’s incredibly understandable.”

“Okay for one,” Lacey rolls her eyes and circles him. “Don’t talk about our trauma like you're not the one who caused it. And for two, isn’t it still… shameful, at least? I don’t even know how I’d begin to describe this to anyone else.”

“There is nothing shameful in loving Gabrielle. It isn’t for them to understand.”

“I still can’t believe you, of all people, would be okay with this.”

“Wouldn’t I, of all people, understand what it’s like to love Gabrielle in ways others consider strange or perverse?”

“Maybe.” Lacey begins as he tries to trip her. “But I can’t believe you’re not jealous, at least.”

Sir laughs haughtily, watching Lacey as she continues to circle him. “I do not see you as competition, Lacey Quinn.”

Lacey pauses in her prowling and gives him a look. 

“ Anymore .” He concedes. “It became quite obvious to me, the roles we each play in Gabrielle’s life, that day at the farmhouse.”

Lacey kicks at his shin and Sir hisses in pain. “I drugged you, bound you to a chair, and gagged you.”

“It’s a fond memory for me.” Sir smiles. “The day Bella gave me to Gabrielle.”

Lacey winces. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lacey spits. “I just want to…” She trails off, launching herself at him. She puts the full force of her body into her shoulder to knock him off his feet, but he doesn’t budge.

Sir grunts, getting her to the ground in a matter of moments. If it weren’t for the mats, she’d have hit it hard. But as it is, the only really gets the wind knocked out of her. Lacey squirms beneath him for all but a couple seconds before coughing awkwardly with an “Off . Off!” Sir obliges, and they just lie next to each other on the mats for a while, catching their breath together.

“Can I ask you something and you be honest?” Lacey says after a while.

Sir turns his head to look at her. “We are all far past the need for dishonesty.”

“Every time we do this, no matter how hard I try, I can’t ever get you down. Am I just that weak?”

“You are at quite the disadvantage.” He begins, sitting up with a grunt. “But you’re also doing it wrong.” Sir stands and offers a hand. Lacey takes it, and he pulls her up. “You’re aiming too high.” He explains, taking a step back. “The human body bends like a hinge. The closer to someone’s center you hit or grab, the easier it is to make them bend. Everyone’s center is different, but if you locate it you can figure out where to put all your power. You’re very keen on hitting the ribs-- you and Gabrielle both, aim here.” He gestures to his lower torso. “Your technique with the shoulder is good already. It’s like breaking down a door. Try it.” Lacey blinks. “I mean it. You may very well encounter opponents in your line of work who are bigger and stronger than you. It would behoove you to know how to take them down.”

“Okay, but you know I’m coming.” Lacey mutters, bouncing nervously as she gathers the strength to do it.

Sir plants his feet. “As will your opponents.”

Lacey watches him carefully for a moment. A deep breath. Two. Her heavy boots dig into the mat, THUNK-thunk THUNK-thunk, as she charges at him. She puts everything into it, into toppling him. And, miraculously, it works. Sir lets out a pained oof and they both tumble back down onto the mat. After a brief recovery, Lacey pops back up with a delighted grin.

“I did it!” She exclaims with a girlish giggle.

Sir coughs awkwardly. “You did.”

“Did you let me win?” She asks, offering him a hand as she gets up.

“No.” Sir groans.

Chapter 5: FOUND

FOUND

Gabi hangs the portrait in the living room. It goes well with Lacey’s garish purple curtains. Lacey still hasn’t told her a thing. Even now, she’s not certain she will. Or, well, really she’s not certain how she will.

 

“I am not a poet.” Lacey laments one day as she moves her clothes from the washer to the dryer.

“You are a lawyer. You must possess some semblance of compositional skills.” Sir counters passively as he reads from bed.

Lacey sighs. “I’m not fighting her in court, Hugh. I’m trying to…” Lacey rubs at her eyes. “God, I almost wish I had one of your stupid scripts.”

“It is counterintuitive to insult someone when you’re asking for help.”

“I’m not. Don’t get writing. Please , I don’t need your shitty opinions on boring white man books sprinkled throughout my love confession.”

“The classical canon embodies far more than the works of boring, white, men. But I agree. This should be something that comes from you .”

Lacey huffs. Sir’s right, for once. But he’s right.

Eliza Giry starts having horrible nightmares. The caged songbird doesn’t so much as chirp anymore. Her mother can’t reach her, neither can anyone else.

Lacey arrives with charcoals and loud music. The girl flocks to her in an instant. They sketch together, side-by-side. The girl breaks a few chunks of charcoal in the aggressive way she smacks it against the paper. Her jaw tightens, her face twisted in fear and anger and disgust as she brings her image to life. When she’s done, she looks to Lacey with big pleading eyes.

Lacey looks at the sketch. The suburban landscape thick with all the things that should make a girl like Eliza feel safe. The streetlights and sidewalks and ever-present nosey neighbors. The tree houses and bike lanes and soccer fields. And there just off in the distance, just past the safety of it all, is a water tower. Lacey recognizes it vaguely. When she thinks for a moment, she realizes it’s the one near Eliza’s school. And when Lacey takes a closer look, she sees it. She sees him , the monster with straight white teeth and a receding hairline. 

Lacey tries to think of something to say. Some way to acknowledge it. Acknowledge Eliza and the sheer bravery it took to tell her what she saw. Lacey looks to the girl and smudges the monster’s outline with her thumb. He looks little now. Wispy and weak. Like a bug squashed beneath her boot. When Lacey looks back to Eliza, the girl relaxes for the first time in a while. Someone understands.

“He’s watching her still.” Lacey explains over dinner. “He’s been posted up at the water tower near her school.”

“How do you know?” Gabi asks.

Lacey digs through her pocket. “Eliza told me. But look, I found this when I went there today.” Lacey slides a receipt toward Gabi.

“You went to the water tower?” Gabi questions, turning the receipt over. “Smart. But what the hell is Pandora’s Box? ”

“Indie theater downtown.” Lacey points to the lower corner of the receipt. “He bought tickets for two , though. And we know he wants her dead. So that means--”

“He’s working with someone.” Gabi realizes. “Lacey, you’re incredible.”

Lacey smiles softly. “Save the praise for when we find them.”

“Only question now is the matter of his accomplice.” Sir remarks. 

Lacey spreads the case file out across the floor of the gym. With a new pool of suspects, her bed simply lacked the space. She sits, cross-legged in her pajamas, as she reviews the file again. Eliza Giry was a bright, brilliant young girl who was also entirely unremarkable in the grand scheme of things. She wasn’t simply too likeable to have enemies, she didn’t have enough of a social footprint to draw anyone’s ire in the first place. She was just a lonely, only child with an overworked mother and a half-absent father. Who could object to that?

“Can I come in?” Gabi asks from the doorway.

Lacey blinks at her. “It’s your house, Gabi.”

“ Our house.” Gabi frowns, stepping carefully around Lacey’s labyrinth of files. “Any luck?”

“I’ve got a few suspects, but none that fit. I mean, Eaton’s got gaggles of young girls chomping at the bit to impress him. But, I don’t know. I guess I just have a hard time believing any of them had anything to do with it. Even Stacy Kemper, who is very mean by the way do NOT read the replies she leaves on Instagram, but even she’s just not…”

“A monster?” Gabi sits across from Lacey on the floor.

“I know, I know.” Lacey sighs, setting a file aside. “You’re gonna tell me I don’t understand it because I’m not a monster.”

“You aren’t.”

“Yeah, well regrettably I understand them very, very well.” Lacey groans and starfishes against the floor.

“You see people, even when they don’t want to be seen. It’s a gift.”

“I’m not Margaret. The way I see things is half-useless. It’s a curse.” Lacey scoffs. “Isn’t there some fancy book you and him read about that once? Young woman cursed to see things no one believes?”

“I am sorry about that.” Gabi reaches towards her, and though Lacey doesn’t reach back, she doesn’t pull away either. “I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you back then, when you saw him.”

“It’s not your fault. You were a scared little girl too.” Lacey assures, smiling softly when Gabi takes her hand. “I trusted you enough to tell you. But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me when you… had him here before. Why is that? Did I… Did I do something wrong? Did I say something that made you think I would judge you?”

Gabi runs her thumb across Lacey’s hand. “I was afraid I’d lose you. I can survive a lot of things. I have survived a lot of things. But I don’t think I could ever survive that.”

“I know the feeling.” Lacey whispers like it’s a terrible secret. And, in a way, it is.

He hears them before he sees them. Or, well, he hears Lacey and her cacophony of girlish giggles. Lacey bursts into the kitchen with a delighted gasp. Sir stands perplexed as he watches the scene before him unfold. 

“Gabi, look! Sir made dinner!” She exclaims, wandering over to the stove and sniffing at the pot of spaghetti.

Gabi trails in after her with a bemused expression. “Yes, I see that.”

“Oh my God, he made garlic bread too!” She squeals, turning from the stove and all-but throwing herself at him. “Thank you! I love garlic bread. ” She cheers, burying her face in his chest as she hugs him.

“What--” Sir coughs out, awkwardly patting her back. “Happened to her?”

Gabi watches Sir grapple with the sudden onset of affection for a few moments before giving. “One of the neighborhood moms from that postman case came by today. She brought brownies to thank us for finding him. And someone got two brownies deep before reading the note that explained that they contain marijuana.”

“I see.” Sir remarks, patting Lacey’s back again and pulling away.

“Is it ready now?” Lacey asks, wandering back to the stove to stare at the spaghetti. “Can we eat? Please? I’m so hungry right now.”

Sir looks to Gabi and answers only when she nods. “Yes, we can.” He agrees, digging into the cupboards for bowls and plates. “Lacey, why don’t you go sit at the table, hmm?” He suggests in a soft, cooing voice.

“Yes, Sir!” Lacey salutes him with a giggle.

Sir watches her bounce out of the room. “And just when I thought the girl couldn’t get any more… energetic.”

Gabi rolls her eyes. “It’s just for tonight.”

“I presume M&A doesn’t drug test, then?” Sir quips, gathering silverware and napkins.

“We don’t judge how we cope, no.” Gabi purses her lips. “And you of all people have no room to judge when it comes to drugs.”

“I hardly think the occasional glass of wine--” Sir stops himself. “Reliving old memories then, are we?”

“What I remember of my memories. Who knows what happened in those long hours when I was out.” Gabi counters, tilting her head.

His jaw tightens. “I suppose I could say the same.”

“Hmm. What do you think happened?” Gabi asks, pulling a bottle of red wine from the rack. She turns her back to him as she opens it. “Or, really, what do you hope happened?”

“I think…” Sir trails off, sneaking up behind her and pressing his lips to the crook of her neck. “If Gabrielle Mosely were in the habit of taking the things she wanted, we’d have come to our little arrangement much sooner.”

Gabi hums, leaning into him. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Taking? ”

“We all have our roles to play. I know mine.” Sir winds a hand around her waist. “That is the point of having a villain, isn’t it? To defeat them again and again and again…”

“Is this your eternal punishment , then?” Gabi taunts dramatically. “Putting around the house all day? Fighting with her? Fighting with me? ”

Sir chuckles. “ Hardly. I happen to like the way you fight. You’re brilliant, Gabrielle.”

“So I’m told.” Gabi scoffs.

“Can you two stop making googly eyes? I want to eat.” Lacey huffs from the doorway.

Sir pulls away, embarrassed. But Gabi only laughs.

“You’re very impatient.” Sir huffs, carefully handing a stack of bowls to Lacey. “Go set the table.”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “ Fine .” Lacey stomps out of the kitchen. 

Gabi watches her go. “She’ll be out like a light in a few hours.”

“Will she?” Sir smiles.

 

Lacey Quinn slurps her spaghetti at dinner.

To her credit, she usually doesn’t. Lacey Quinn usually has very good manners. But the spaghetti tastes fantastic tonight. The room is warmer, brighter than it’s ever been. And she feels voracious. Lacey had a bad habit of eating like a bird when left to her own devices. She was like Gabi in that sense, she supposed. But tonight her stomach feels like a bottomless pit. She makes it through two bowls of spaghetti and half the garlic bread. Sir eyes her and the mess she’s making, but doesn’t say a word.

“Hungry, aren’t you?” Gabi teases pleasantly. 

Lacey twirls more spaghetti onto her fork. “The spaghetti is so good tonight. Gabi, isn’t it good?”

“Yes, it is Lacey.” Gabi chuckles.

“Sir’s been weirdly good lately. Isn’t that weird? I don’t even feel like I’ve been good lately.” Lacey shoves a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth.

Gabi furrows her brow. “You’re always good, Lacey.”

“Not as good as I could be.” Lacey says through the spaghetti. “Not as good as I should be.”

Gabi frowns, eyeing Sir. “Says who?”

“Meeee.” Lacey sings, her fork clanking against her bowl. “The boy-wonder sidekick who can’t find Howard Eaton. Or tell you I…” She trails off, staring at her empty bowl for a few moments. “Hey, is there dessert?” She chirps, looking to Sir with big, pleading eyes.

Sir sets his cutlery aside. “I think there is ice cream in the freezer, yes.” He dabs his napkin at the corners of his mouth and ducks into the kitchen.

“Tell me what?” Gabi asks while he’s gone.

“Hmm?” Lacey blinks. Her confusion melts into a big, goofy smile. “Oh, sorry, I don’t remember.” Gabi reaches towards her. Lacey takes her hand, squeezing it with a giggle. “You look pretty.” Lacey whispers like a secret.

“So do you.” Gabi whispers back with a wink.

Lacey giggles, turning her face away as it scrunches in delight and embarrassment.

Sir enters silently and sets a bowl of moose tracks ice cream in front of her.

“Sir.” Lacey calls out in a whisper-shout. “ Sir! ”

“What, Lacey?” He replies, taking his seat once more.

“Gabi said I was pretty.”

“I’m sure she did.”

“Has Gabi ever called you pretty?” Lacey taunts, squeezing Gabi’s hand.

Gabi laughs.

“No. No, she has not.” Sir answers with a bemused sigh.

“Ha!” Lacey exclaims, pointing at him.

Sir rolls his eyes. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.” He orders.

Lacey frowns dramatically and petulantly lets the ice cream sit for all of ten seconds before digging in. She devours the ice cream as quickly as she had both bowls of spaghetti, but is not given another. That’s okay, though. Lacey just wipes her mouth with a napkin and watches Gabi eat, their hands still joined.

 

When dinner’s over, Lacey tries to help clean up. But Gabi and Sir both shoo her away from the fine china and dirty pots.

“Why don’t you go get changed?” Gabi suggests, squeezing Lacey’s hand. “Get out of your work clothes.”

Lacey grins. “Okay!” She agrees, hugging Gabi hard and fast before bouncing off. 

 

Lacey bursts into the living room in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Gabi and Sir sit next to each other on the couch, hands joined as they read their given novels. That doesn’t stop Lacey, though.

“Move.” She orders playfully, shoving at Sir’s shoulder.

He blinks audaciously at her.

“I wanna sit next to Gabi, move!” Lacey pushes at him again, just barely containing a burst of giggles.

Sir sighs and scoots to the far end of the couch. Lacey lies in the middle, her head in Gabi’s lap and her feet in Sir’s. She looks up at Gabi-- and it doesn’t matter how tall she gets, Lacey is always looking up at Gabi, but she looks up to her adoringly.

“Hi.” Lacey whispers.

“Hi.” Gabi whispers back.

“I’m being a lot, aren’t I?”

Gabi smiles at her. “No, baby. You’re being just enough.”

“Gabi, can I tell you something?” Lacey asks with wide, earnest eyes.

Gabi cards her fingers through Lacey’s hair. “Of course.”

“You are everything to me.” Lacey confesses.

Gabi leans in close. “You’re everything to me too, Lacey.”

“No.” Lacey nuzzles into her, hiding her face behind her hands. “You’re everything to me.”

“I know.” Gabi coos. “You’re everything to me too.”

“Really?” Lacey giggles, sitting up just enough to slap Sir on the arm. “Sir, I’m everything to Gabi!”

“So I’ve heard.” He remarks passively, flipping a page in his novel.

Lacey lays back down with another giggle. “ I’m everything to Gabi… Hey, Gabi! Can we watch Drag Race? I wanna see all the dresses.”

Gabi chuckles. “Sure.”

 

Lacey makes it maybe two episodes before falling asleep. Her entire body goes limp, sinking into Gabi and Sir and the couch. Gabi cards her fingers through Lacey’s hair for a few minutes before nodding to Sir. And though Lacey is asleep, mostly, far, far away in her dreams she can still vaguely hear them. Still vaguely feel Sir scoop her up as they take her to her room. Still vaguely feel Gabi kiss her cheek.

“I am not one for casual narcotics use, but I must admit she’s quite amenable like this.” Sir whispers as Gabi tucks her in.

“Why?” Gabi questions, adjusting her pillow. “Because she calls you Sir and does as she’s told?”

Sir tuts. “You make it sound so vulgar. But even you must admit, she’s far more agreeable.”

“It is the first time she’s relaxed in ages.” Gabi admits, watching her sleep for a moment. “Something’s been plaguing her, though. She’s conflicted, I just can’t figure out why.”

Sir hums, leaning against the doorway. “It’s nothing you can solve tonight.”

Midway through a missing toddler case, Eliza Giry gets hospitalized. Arsenic in her system. God damn rat poison. Something she ate while at school. She doesn’t die, but it’s close. Lacey splits from the team with nothing but a Go, we’ll manage from Gabi. And Eliza doesn’t say a word. Not to her mother, not to the doctors, not even to Lacey. But she draws. Fast as a whip, she draws. Lacey spots the two figures haunting the girl from her bedroom window scribbled in charcoal and feels angrier than she thinks she ever has. She doesn’t want to leave the girl, especially since her mother is working through her hospital stay, but she can’t stay there. On her way out, Eliza sketches something else and shows it to her: the vampire squishmallow from her room. Lacey promises to bring it.

 

“Why poison?” Lacey asks while barreling down the stairs.

Sir sets aside his novel. “Are you asking about me, or Howard Eaton?”

“Yes. Both.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I find violence distasteful. I think it boorish-- brash, to solve matters through fists or bullets. It also has its advantages. If you are confident in your dosage and carrier, you need not be in the same place at the same time as your target.” Sir explains with a scientific indifference.

Lacey nods and thinks for a moment. “If the plan was to kill her all along, why not start with poison?”

“You are working with two perpetrators here. That’s two entirely different people, two entirely different psychologies-- two different motivations, even.” Sir reasons.

“Eaton left Eliza bound in that cabin to rot. No food, no water. I think the plan was to just let her starve to death--”

“Dehydration would have gotten her first.”

“Well, yeah . But what I’m saying is Eaton’s attempt to kill Eliza was distant, passive. He snatched her up and then left her to die. But you have to be close for poison. Historically speaking, poisonings have been women’s work. Not only because women were relegated to the domestic sphere and thus were the ones who had access to all the food, but because it’s one of the few pre-gun murder methods that doesn’t require physical strength. It’s subtle. It’s quiet. Before advancements in medicine it was hard to detect.” Lacey paces as she works through it. “The average man’s lifespan actually increased after the introduction of no-fault divorce. One of the theories as to why is that the easier it became for women to leave their husbands, the less likely they were to kill them. Whoever poisoned her, whoever’s working with Eaton is close to Eliza . She’s trying to get rid of Eliza, but she can’t through traditional means. She’s not one of Eaton’s theater students, she’s a friend or neighbor.”

Sir nods in agreement. “Or relative.” He adds.

“Or relative…” Lacey trails off. “That’s it!” She sprints from the basement, brushing past Gabi on her way out.

“Hey, where are you going?” Gabi calls out. “Lace? Lace!”

“She gets that from you.” Sir says, reaching for the file in Gabi’s hand. “What do you have for me?”

“Miss Quinn?” Sarah Giry greets with a befuddled expression. “I just got in. Eliza’s in the hospital, but I had to work. You know how it is. Single mom. Lots of bills.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lacey offers a warm, charming smile. “Mind if I come in? Eliza asked me to grab her some stuff from her room.”

“Right! Right…” Sarah agrees, stepping aside.

Lacey prowls into the Giry house. thunkthunk. thunkthunk. It’s the same house she’s been in a dozen times by now, but different. She notices, for once, the lack of pictures on the wall. The Girys had lived in the house Eliza’s whole life, and yet her grungy footprint was relegated exclusively to her room. None of her art on the walls, no papers on the fridge, nothing . Gabi’s house-- their home , had Lacey everywhere. Her art on the walls, her curtains on the windows, her little home gym taking up an entire extra room.

“You probably think I’m a bad mother.” Sarah shifts aimlessly.

“You’re not a bad mother.” Lacey assures with a sympathetic frown. “It’s not fair, is it? That you had to give up your career for her?”

“How do you--”

“I saw an old upload of your Ophelia somewhere.” Lacey waves her off casually. “You were good. You were better than good.”

“I was.” Sarah agrees with a relieved sigh. “I could have been great, if it wasn’t for…”

“Eliza?” Lacey prompts. That spooks Sarah, but Lacey keeps going. “Oh, no. Don’t worry. I understand completely. You never wanted her.”

“What an awful, awful thing to say.” Sarah clutches a hand to her chest.

Lacey rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on Sarah. You are a great actress, but I know the truth.”

“Do you?” Sarah keeps herself composed, but Lacey can tell she’s cracking a bit.

“You were this bright, brilliant young thing.” Lacey begins as they circle each other. “You were an actress! A real actress. You had everything: your independence, a blossoming career, Howard Eaton when he still had hair . You could have had so much more if your little needling boy-wonder sidekick wasn’t holding you back.”

“I could have had him .” Sarah gasps. “He wanted me, but he didn’t want to be a father. He still doesn’t.”

Lacey nods. “And who can blame him, right? Kids are such a drag. You know that! You were saddled with one. A daughter’s not like a husband. You can’t just divorce a child. There really is no getting rid of them. And you love them, sure. But it’s different when you don’t want them. It’s a love of proximity. Obligation. People are so judgemental about bad mothers. Fathers can walk right out of the picture, but you weren’t given that choice. And you couldn’t afford to look like a bad mother. That’s the worst thing in the world you can be, isn’t it? Worse than a killer or a kidnapper. That’s why you hired us, so they wouldn’t judge you when she was found dead.”

“But then you found her alive.” Sarah sniffs, watching Lacey carefully.

Lacey shrugs. “I didn’t know the game we were playing. And you’re in a real pickle now, aren’t you? Because Eliza was nothing before. Meaningless . No one cared about her. No one noticed. She drifted through life without any real friends or connection. If you’d killed her then, no one would have known. But then she got kidnapped, and she became more . Another scared little girl of many saved by the good graces of Gabi Mosely. Her name an entry on the M&A Wikipedia page. She’s being watched too carefully now to just… disappear. ”

“He was useless, you know that? He made me promises. He said he’d take care of it. He didn’t.” Sarah spits.

“Yeah, he’s a weak, spineless, asshole, isn’t he? All this trouble to get him and it probably won’t even be worth it. I mean, he’s not the Hamlet actor on the verge of being great anymore. He’s a balding community theater director who’s just a little too into the gaggles of young girls who flock to him.” Lacey nears Sarah. thunkthunk, thunkthunk.

“We were supposed to be special. Eternal .”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lacey asks, just steps from her. “I bet he’s real pissy you made him a fugitive. He was never even supposed to be a suspect, was he?”

“We thought there’d be no way it could get pinned on him since he wasn’t legally tied to the cabin.” Sarah admits, glaring at Lacey. “That is, until some slut came bouncing into his apartment asking all the wrong questions.”

Lacey throws up her hands. “Guilty as charged.” 

“You don’t seem scared.” Sarah huffs.

“That’s because I’m not.” Lacey grins. Someone pounds at the door.

Sarah grimaces. “You should be.”

 

The door bursts open with a scattering of splinters. Gabi marches in, Dhan trailing behind her. He’s got Sarah up against a wall in a matter of seconds, and Gabi rushes to Lacey’s side.

“Are you okay?” Gabi asks frantically, patting over Lacey in search of wounds.

Lacey smiles. “I’m fine.” She assures, pulling away. “She didn’t even touch me.”

Sarah laughs, her face still pressed into the wall.

“Let’s get out of here.” Gabi insists.

Lacey glances to Eliza’s room. “Just one more thing.” Lacey ducks into Eliza’s room and nabs her vampire squishmallow. It’s such a small, simple thing. But the girl would need as much comfort as possible in these coming days. Weeks. Years. She had a long road ahead. In all her focus on the girl, Lacey almost doesn’t notice the figure looming at the edges of her vision.

“ Bella, look out! ” Gabi screams.

Lacey dodges Howard Eaton by a narrow margin. In his anger, he tries again. In his arrogance, he thinks he’ll succeed.

Lacey throws her entire body weight behind her shoulder and rams it into his center. Howard Eaton folds like a cheap card table. Lacey gets a couple good hits in-- even manages to knock out one of those pristine white teeth, before Trent and his men show up to make their arrests. All in all, the most severe of Lacey’s injuries is a split knuckle on her right fist.

“Who the hell taught you that!” Dhan exclaims, as impressed as he is concerned.

Lacey chuckles to herself. “I’ll tell you in nine months.”

“Are you alright?” Gabi asks.

“I’m fine.” Lacey assures. “Just a couple bumps and bruises. Howard Eaton fights like a little bitch.”

“Hey--” Trent interrupts. “Sorry to bump in, but this entire house is about to become an active crime scene. Eliza’s going to need clothes and whatever other stuff from her room. Usually I’d have an officer do this, but you two seem to know her best. So, if you want, you can pack a bag for her before we tape the place up?”

“Thank you.” Gabi nods. “Yeah, just give us a few minutes?”

“Of course.” Trent agrees, whistling and corralling his people out of the house.

Lacey waits for the house to clear before ducking into Eliza’s room. “Let me pack her clothes, I wanna make sure to get that Ghost sweatshirt she loves.” Lacey calls back, nabbing a duffle bag from Eliza’s closet and meticulously combing through her room for whatever she’d need moving forward. She grabs deodorant and pads, jeans and bras, some off-brand perfume that claims to smell of ‘rot and ruin’. Lacey digs through the girl’s closet and tries to strike a balance between practicality and style. She’d take the whole room, if she could. Eliza deserved everything and more. When she digs the girl’s winter coat out, a number of sketches come crashing down. Among them is the sketch she did of Lacey and the sketch Lacey did of Gabi.

“I’m sorry.” Gabi says softly. “For calling you Bella back there. I didn’t mean to. It was just instinct. I know that’s triggering for you.”

Lacey digs around in the closet for a few moments more before pausing. She takes a long, deep breath. “It’s not, actually.” She admits, turning to face Gabi fully.

“Oh.” Gabi blinks. “You said it was a lot , I figured you meant--”

“I don’t feel triggered when you call me Bella. I feel… small. Not like condescended or talked down to or anything. But protected. It feels nice, actually. Too nice .” Lacey explains, gripping the duffle bag tight enough to whiten her bruised and split knuckles. “Gabi, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. And I know that’s awful and hypocritical coming from me, but I am just so scared. You are everything to me. And I know the way I feel, the things I want are sick and disgusting and evil--”

“They’re not.” Gabi assures, setting a hand on Lacey’s arm. “There is nothing you could ever want that would make me stop loving you.”

Lacey bites her lip to keep from crying. “Don’t quote my words back at me. This isn’t a monster chained up in the basement, Gabi. This is--”

“ You . This is you in all your wonderful, abundant love. Lacey, you’re not capable of evil. You’re not capable of disgusting me.” Gabi steps closer.

And Lacey tries to step back, but she can’t. Her back hits the closet door. “I don’t want you to do this just because you’re afraid of losing me. I will always be here, Gabi. You don’t have to play along to my romantic fantasies. I’ll get over it. I’ll be fine. I would never ask this of you.”

Gabi cups Lacey’s cheek, her thumb wiping a tear from its high point. “You’re not.” She assures, smiling softly. “I’m giving this to you.”

Lacey shudders, her stomach twisted in knots, her cheeks hot. “Gabi--”

“It’s rude to refuse a gift.” She coos, pressing her lips to Lacey’s.

Lacey melts in an instant. Her knees begin to buckle, but Gabi catches her. Gabi always catches her. And it’s just a kiss, really. But that doesn’t stop Lacey from crying. That doesn’t stop her heart from pounding so violently against her chest she’s afraid it’ll crack a rib. Gabi does not deny her. Gabi does not dig her nails in, but it’s so good . It’s so gentle and kind and soft. And Gabi is a bad liar. Gabi isn’t humoring her. She can tell by the way Gabi pulls back and smudges a thumb against the lipstick now staining her bottom lip.

“Sorry, not your color.” Gabi whispers.

Lacey laughs through her tears. “I love you, Gabi.”

“I love you too.” Gabi pulls her into a hug, and Lacey clings desperately to her. “ Let’s go home, Bella. ”

“Gabrielle said no sparring until you’re all healed.” Sir tsks, watching as Lacey wraps her hands.

Lacey waves him off. “ A partner is someone who, though amenable to the desires of their love, acts independently. A pet is someone who takes orders. Someone who rolls over at the faintest command or whistle. Which are you?”

Sir glares at her.

“And anyways, I’m fine. My knuckles are all healed. And I’m dying for a workout. This new case is kicking my ass.”

“Don’t they always?” Sir rolls his eyes, but squares his shoulders.

Lacey smiles and squares hers too. “Yeah, that’s how these things work when you’re a normal human person with emotions like empathy.”

“I highly doubt you qualify as normal, Lacey Quinn.” Sir taunts, dodging a left hook. 

“Oh?” Lacey prompts, jabbing him from the right.

Sir winces at the hit. “Don’t you have a girls night with your fellow kidnappee-- sorry,” A jab hits his left. “Sister-- sorry,” Another jab. “Friend-- sorry,” And another. “Lover to get to?”

Lacey grits her teeth. “Oh, fuck off! ” She exclaims, launching herself at him.

Sir hits the mat with a distinctive oof . They struggle for a few minutes, Lacey grunting and groaning as she manhandles him onto his front. She pins an arm behind his back, laughing delightfully as he squirms beneath her.

“Say it.” She sings, twisting his arm. “ If you don’t say it, I’m not letting you go .”

“ Off .” Sir mutters into the mat.

Lacey releases him and they sit, catching their breath together. 

“Damn, girl. Get him again!” Gabi cheers from the doorway, shaking a polaroid picture.

Lacey laughs with a wave. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough.” Gabi answers cryptically, sauntering in. “You should really be wearing your mouth guards, you know.”

“She likes to talk.” Sir grunts, stretching his overextended arm carefully.

“Hmm.” Gabi hums with a bemused smile. “You know, it’s a shame you can’t see yourself when you’re like this, Lace.”

Gabi hands her the polaroid, and Lacey looks to it fondly. “I look crazy.”

“You look beautiful.” Gabi insists, offering a hand. “Come on, go get showered. I don’t want you sweaty for our night out.”

Lacey takes it, letting Gabi help pull her up. It still feels strange, Gabi’s hand in hers. The closeness. The proximity. Sometimes she has to take a moment to just breathe it in. Gabi likes to take advantage of moments like that.

“ Go --” Gabi says through a kiss. “ Shower .”

Lacey bounces off without another word.

 

Somewhere deep in the back of her closet lies a canvas. Beneath thick, matte, black paint lies an image that is now all-too familiar to Lacey Quinn. If she were so inclined, she could probably uncover it again. It would take a lot of paint thinner and gumption, but it would give. Only thing is, there’s not much of a point anymore. Lacey Quinn wakes up every morning to that smile. That twinkle in her eye. Every so often, the polaroid camera makes an appearance and captures yet another memory her past self might feel ashamed of. And Gabi allows Lacey to be many things. A sister, a friend, a lover. Bella. But the one thing Gabi Mosely never allows Lacey Quinn to be is ashamed. 

Notes:

please leave comments if you enjoyed

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of sparring