#i want him pissed!!! i want him angry!!! i want him to punch aubrey because she almost killed him!!!

[misty-wisp]

me: okay. i gotta. i gotta draw basil not completely unhinged and/or fucking pissed. i gotta be accurate to his actual character for once.

also me, the minute i pick up my pencil: oops

[sonnetthebard]

You know that headcanon about Crispin getting into fights by accident? And his worst one being with Vern at a wedding? Could you maybe please write a fic about that? And maybe throw some Crispin x Odie in there if possible? Thank you!

Oh lord, here we go-

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Comedy/ Romance Words: 2283 TL;DR: Crispin really, REALLY should start talking when people want to fight him. TW: Fighting, swearing, drunkeness

__________________________________________________

Crispin bit his lip, sitting silently during the wedding reception. He didn't like weddings. He actually didn't like big events at all. Too many people. It made him anxious. But... this was Vern's sister and Mary Jo's brother's wedding. Not that he was friends of either of those people (he didn't even know their names, and that should say a lot considering the size of the town they were in). But he was Ellis' cousin and Vern was his friend, so he had to be there. Plus Odie loved weddings, and he would walk to the ends of the earth for that man. so... here he was. At a wedding reception. The last place in the world he'd want to be on a Wednesday evening. Vern had even done him a 'favour'. He'd made a little 'boys' table with all the people he knew Crispin considered to be friends. It was him, Vern, Ellis, Donny, Odie, Desmond, Aubrey and Sybilus. Apparently Ellis had insisted Vern talk to his sister about it because he 'didn't want his little cousin getting lonely'. Little did Ellis know that Crispin would really rather be alone right now.

It was a good party. And the food was good- especially since he didn't have to pay for it. Vern had made sure they had the best cuts of meat for the dinner, and god was it delicious. Like, the beef option was this melt-in-your-mouth prime rib and it was perfectly cooked. It was almost enough to make Crispin not regret that he'd come to the wedding. But on the downside... everything was so, so loud. Everyone was talking, which meant that naturally everyone was talking over each other. And everything just got louder and louder. It gave Crispin a headache. There was a reason Crispin didn't speak, and it was because he liked the quiet. He liked to be able to hear the voices in his head and think clearly. And words... they complicated things. Especially love. Crispin had seen love go wrong so many times because of words that hadn't been thought out properly. At least with signing you really had to think out what you were going to say. Odie and Crispin did just fine without verbal communication, thank you very much. He wished the rest of the world give it a try.

Crispin had sort of zoned out of the conversation. After all, with so many voices coming at him from every direction... it was hard to follow one set. He just looked around the room, taking everything in. he had to admit, the little tent they'd set up for the reception was lovely. It was pristine white. And inside, Ellis and Mary Jo had decorated it with some gorgeous flower arrangements. Nothing too overwhelming in scent though. And the music... their DJ was good. The whole ambience of the wedding was lovely, save for the voices. Now, if you could just funnel all that noise out and get Crispin a book... things would be great. Yeah. He could go for a book. And another one of those prime ribs. That was good. He hoped the cake was that good. So many wedding cakes just tasted like soap. He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by a rather sharp nudge from someone. Crispin blinked, snapping his head to see who it was. It was Odie.

"What're you giving me that look for?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin blinked in shock again. Was his face doing that thing again?

"I'm sure he didn't mean to give you any look, Vern... Right, Crispin?" Odie prompted. Crispin nodded, genuinely confused and a little scared. What had he missed?

"No, he did this sassy little eye-roll thing!" Vern insisted. Oh shit, had he? He knew he did that when he was thinking sometimes. "You didn't think my little sister looked good, did you?"

"N-n-n-now Vern... let's not be r-rash..." Sybilus tried to soothe him.

"What was wrong with how my sister looked on her wedding day, Crispin?" Vern asked. He took a look at Vern's place. Ah. He'd gotten some beer. How much had Vern had to drink already? Because depending on how drunnk he was... this could be very bad for Crispin. He frantically signed at Odie, Donny and Ellis.

'I wasn't even listening! I zoned out thinking about how nice this place would be to read in!' Crispin signed.

"You should really stop doing that." Odie advised him. "It never ends well."

'I know...' Crispin signed. 'Just... the whole ambience is great in here except for the voices. I can't help it that I just want to curl up with a book.'

"Well thank god." Ellis sighed in relief, relishing in the drama of it all. "Vern, he-"

"No. No, I want to hear him fucking say it." Vern almost growled. Crispin went pale. No, he didn't want to speak.

"Language!" Desmond chided.

"Vern, you know he doesn't do that!" Donny rolled his eyes.

"I want to fucking hear it from him!" Vern demanded, standing up. He grabbed Crispin by the collar of his shirt. Crispin gulped nervously. God, Vern was so much bigger than him. "What the fuck was wrong with my sister, you little shit?"

"Vern... I think it would be best if you set him down..." Aubrey attempted to soothe. Crispin gave a pleading look to Ellis, knowing that as a relative of the groom maybe he'd be able to talk Vern down.

"Vern, Crispin doesn't speak. And I know he didn't mean to insult your little sister." Ellis stated. "He was lost in his thoughts."

"Fucking creep... were you thinking about the bride on her fucking wedding day?" Vern spat, his words just a little slurred. Shit. Oh, he was drunk. Crispin was fucked.

"Vern... Vern, what's going on?" The bride asked, scared.

"This little shit wants to get in your pants!" Vern glared at Crispin.

"No... no, Vern, he wasn't thinking of her!" Ellis cut in. He liked drama, but he wasn't going to ruin any marriages. "He was thinking about how nice it would be to read in here."

"You fucking expect me to believe that?" Vern rolled his eyes.

"Vern, it's true." Odie insisted.

"Maybe it's what he's saying to you, but that doesn't make it the truth!" Vern growled. No, no one was going to talk Vern down at this poin.

"Vern, think about who we're talking about for a minute. This is Crispin. He doesn't have it in him to insult anyone." Odie pointed out.

"Well..." Donny countered. Odie mouthed a 'not helping' to him.

"Not to their face." Vern grumbled, eyes trained on Crispin. Crispin hated this. But... he couldn't find his voice. At this point, if he could he would.

"Listen, Vern, there's like... literally nothing to insult." Donny shrugged. "I mean, sure, the whole look was a little... old."

"Is that what you called my little sister with your fancy little hand dancing? Did you call her old?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin shook his head.

"Old can be beautiful." Aubrey tried. "That's why we study history. There's a lot of beauty in the past."

"Vernie, I was going for a historic wedding." The bride told him. "That was a compliment!"

"Stop trying to fucking vouch for him!" Vern snapped at everyone.

"Vern, enough!" Desmond demanded. "Put Crispin down!"

"No!" Vern shook his head. He focused on Crispin again. "You little shit... no one gets to insult my little sister."

And with that, Vern threw the first punch. It his square in the jaw. Crispin yelped, and everyone gasped. Ellis looked absolutely scandalized- which was a fact Crispin wasn't entirely sure why he'd noticed but he was a bit out of it. His brain was focusing on a lot of weird things. Like how weird Dr. Edwards' laugh was. He was snapped back again when Vern threw another punch. Crispin tried to block it... to no avail. He dodged a third punch. Then Crispin was slammed onto the table... and that was all that Crispin could really remember clearly. He remembered he'd started fighting back in self defense. he hated to, and it hadn't done much good, but... he had to do something. He remembered everyone- including the bride- begging Vern to stop. But... Vern was pissed. Like, drunk and very angry. He was an angry drunk to begin with. It was just Crispin who had gotten his anger that night. He should've known better than to drink at his sister's wedding.

Anyways, they fought until he literally knocked Crispin out. Crispin remembered waking up very briefly in Dr. Edwards' office, but it was late and he was tired so he just went back to sleep. The next day when he woke (still in Dr. Edwards' office) Odie was sitting on the bed beside him and dabbing at something on his face. Or maybe he was cleaning it. God, his face was so tender. Were those stitches? Shit, how bad had things gotten? Crispin groaned quietly. He didn't like this. He had a massive headache- and he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol. It seemed Vern had had enough for the both of them. He'd kind of hoped that the night before had been a nightmare. But here he was. His jaw was killing him... which meant Dr. Edwards probably hadn't given him any pain meds. Odie smiled softly, being a bit gentler.

"Hey, Cris." Odie sighed. "Sorry about last night... we tried. But... I guess the groom got Vern's favourite beer in for the wedding. We didn't really think anything of it until... well, you know what happened."

'Did I win?' Crispin tried to sign. But his right arm was really sore.

"No... no you did not." Odie chuckled softly. "Hey, don't sign if you don't need to. You bent your wrist back trying to punch Vern last night."

'O-H G-O-D (Oh God)' Crispin fingerspelled, before starting to laugh. 'I A-M S-U-C-H A W-I-M-P (I am such a wimp)'

"No, Crispy... you're just a bit smaller than Vern." Odie chuckled along with him. He cupped Crispin's face gently, dabbing a few final tiems above Crispin's eyebrow. "You just lay back and relax. I'm going to take care of you."

"Is he in here?" A voice called in. Crispin tried to sit up and found that he was very sore. That made sense. Vern had kicked the shit out of him. He laid back down. Now he understood what Odie had meant when he said he should lay back and relax. Odie turned his head, sighing before letting go of Crispin and standing up.

"Yeah, he's here." Odie sighed. "Cris, it's Vern."

"Hey..." Vern bit his lip. he came and sat on the bed. Crispin immediately tensed, still a bit scared. "Hey... I am so sorry for this."

'It's okay.' Crispin tried to sign.

"He says it's okay." Odie translated.

"I took it way too far... man, I was so drunk... and my hangover is terrible." Vern sighed. "But like... I'm guessing it's nothing compared to what you're going through. God, I am so sorry..."

"It's fine." Crispin sighed. "Really."

"Hey, you don't have to do that." Vern told him. "I was so out of line, asking you to talk... and assuming that you thought my sister was ugly... man, I was a total idiot."

"Well, that's what too much alcohol will do." Odie chided.

"Yeah..." Vern agreed. "Listen, I just wanted to be sure you're okay... I know I can get really intense when I'm fighting."

"It'll take him time to recover, but... he'll be fine." Dr. Edwards slurred from where he was slumped over in the corner.

"Good." Vern sighed in relief, looking over Crispin again. "When you're feeling better, you come by the butcher shop. I'll give you anything you want."

'You don't need to.' Crispin signed.

"He says you don't need to." Odie translated.

"Yeah I do." Vern chuckled. "Just take it, okay bud?"

'Fine.' Crispin signed.

"He gave in." Odie told Vern.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... last night got me thinking... would one of you mind teaching me how to talk with the hand thing?" Vern asked.

"I can show you how to sign." Odie nodded. "Ellis, Donny, Rita and Sybilus also sign if you ever need help."

‘S-Y-B-I-L-U-S signs?’ Crispin blinked. 

“Yeah! He went nonverbal for a while when he was younger, remember?” Odie smirked. He looked back at Vern. “Anyways... any of us would be happy to teach you. Just ask, any time.”

"Thanks." Vern smiled softly. He got up, heading for the door. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. Feel better soon, Crispin. I am so sorry."

'It's okay.' Crispin chuckled.

"He says it's okay." Odie smiled.

"Okay, bud, you're coming with me." Vern sighed, scooping up a somehow already drunk Dr. Edwards.

"But I'm gonna miss the good part!" Dr. Edwards whined. "Wanna stay until they kiss!"

"Not happening." Vern rolled his eyes, smirking. he called back to Odie and Crispin as he left. "Bye guys!"

Crispin waved.

"Well that was nice of him." Odie smirked. climbing to lay next to . "I like Vern."

'M-E T-O-O W-H-E-N H-E-S S-O-B-E-R (Me too when he's sober).' Crispin teased, fingerspelling so he could rest his arm.

"Which is most of the time." Odie chided teasingly.

'Y-E-A-H. (Yeah)' Crispin chuckled. He sighed. "Thanks for doing this."

"Well... you're a lot of trouble, but you're cute... which kind of makes up for it." Odie teased. "So I guess I don't mind so much."

'Y-O-U K-N-O-W Y-O-U L-O-V-E M-E (You know you love me)' Crispin rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah. I do." Odie shrugged, equally as teasing. He leaned in and gently kissed Crispin, who blushed. "Maybe it's a good thing that we're teaching him how to sign so that this doesn't happen again."

Crispin couldn't have said it better himself.

[tiny-maus-boots]

The Art of Renegotiation

A/N: Part 6 of The Debt Collector Series. 

A/N 2: Thank you everyone for sticking with this sometimes brutal ride. This was hands down my favorite project and is left intentionally open ended in the event that I revisit this world.

Super big thank you to my bestie and beta @chloes-yellow-cup who puts up with me when I’m annoying (which is all the time), and STILL is kind enough to read and edit for me.

AAAAAND a very special thank you to @kate-harper because look at what she made!!! It is the greatest thing I have ever seen. It’s beautiful and I love and I have it saved as my lock screen so I can stare at it all day at work.

Aubrey

Aubrey paced the length of her bedroom, hands in her pockets and brow furrowed as Doc Beale looked Stacie over. Her pulse was thundering in her own ears and she was working hard to control her breathing and tightening her control on her rapidly growing anger. It wasn’t just anger at Weston, she was pretty pissed at her own stupid arrogance. She had pushed too hard, worked him a little too close to the line without thinking about how he would react. It was sloppy work and her dad would be disappointed. His voice was so clear in her head she could have sworn he was in the room with her.

‘Shit rolls downhill kiddo. Sometimes it’s not about the power in the punch, it’s the way it’s delivered. Keep it tight, keep it close, keep your target focused on you.’

Her delivery was for shit and she had given Weston too much slack to maneuver with.  And her arrogance had cost a heavy price that Stacie ultimately paid. She was sick to her stomach over it and wearing a track in her plush dark gray carpet. Aubrey turned and paced the other direction the weight of her guilt making every step heavier than the last.

“If you don’t stop pacing I’m going to drug you into a three day coma.”

The blonde stopped in her tracks and turned to face the doctor shining a light in each of Stacie’s eyes. Doc Beale didn’t look at Aubrey as she worked competently to diagnose her patient. Aubrey could respect that and settled onto the chaise in the far corner of the room. Stacie tried to smile but she could see that the movement hurt and the knot in Aubrey’s stomach tightened again making her look away quickly.

“Good, no concussion. Let’s take a look at your hip.” Doc made a few soft humming sounds as she quickly checked the area and tested Stacie’s mobility, range of motion, and ability to bear weight.

“So what’s the damage Doc?”

She knew Stacie was kidding and trying to make the situation lighter but her anxiety ratcheted up another notch and she realized she was convulsively clutching her fists. Aubrey forced herself to stillness, needing to close her eyes for a moment to create that calm center. It was more of a struggle than it had ever been in her life.

“Well you’ll be sore for a few days, at least a week with the hip, but you’ll live.” There was a long silent pause as she cleaned up the blood on Stacie’s forehead and addressed the laceration there with careful, gentle hands. “This isn’t too deep. A little Dermabond and you should be good to go. So you want to tell me how this happened?”

Aubrey frowned slightly when the doctor, while talking to Stacie looked over her shoulder directly at her. Her normally laughing blue eyes, cold and angry in a way she had never seen before. Shame made her face hot and she looked away quickly unable to meet the fury on the doctor’s face. This was why her mother had left her father, someone was always caught in the fallout and it was entirely her fault that this time it was Stacie.

“Not particularly.”

The good doctor was used to seeing Aubrey and her crew a little messed up from time to time but this was the first time that she’d had to patch up an innocent bystander before. The redhead’s shoulders tightened as she worked at sealing the cut cleanly. But she was bothered and it was obvious. As soon as she was done, Doc pulled her gloves off and tossed them in the trashcan, her gestures suddenly sharp with a quiet rage.

“Are you protecting the person that did this because you’re afraid?”

It was said so quietly that Aubrey almost didn’t hear it making it pretty clear that Doc assumed Aubrey had done the damage herself. While she didn’t actually raise a hand to Stacie she might as well have because it was her choices and actions that had led to this moment. Aubrey’s shoulders slumped and she stood slowly to make confession of her sins.

“No. Not once, not ever. Aubrey didn’t do this to me.” Stacie’s voice was sure and clear and she held Doc Beale’s gaze for a long time before she sighed and let her shoulders roll in a slight hunch. “My husband is…”

“A dead man.”

It was the first time that Aubrey had spoken since she had called for the doctor. She had wanted to play him, run him down and break him, but now she just wanted him dead. Doc Beale looked at them both evaluating the truth before she nodded and relaxed.  

“Well, as a doctor I’m bound to do no harm.” Doc Beale tucked her equipment back into her bag and closed it firmly. “Maybe being stuck in this life has fucked me up but…good. He isn’t a good man and he deserves what’s coming to him.” There was still a hardness to the doctor and Aubrey knew the red haired woman wasn’t quite done yet. It was the first time she had ever stood up to Aubrey in such a way and they had a long shared history.

Dr. Chloe Beale was a brilliant surgeon, well known and well-liked by patients and staff alike. But she had her problems like anyone else. Problems that had brought her to Aubrey’s door in need of a big favor. Some people like gambling, some liked sex, some, like Doc Beale, liked booze. It had landed the doctor in bad hit and run situation that could have cost the woman her practice, her license, everything. Aubrey had paid off someone with nothing to lose and only money to gain to take the fall for ‘stealing’ Chloe’s car and committing vehicular manslaughter. Doc Beale had been grateful and Aubrey had taken advantage of that gratitude by having the surgeon on call for times when things went sideways.

It hadn’t helped Doc’s drinking problem any and Aubrey maybe felt a little shitty about that. Sometimes. It wasn’t the easiest of working relationships at times but it had led to something deeper when work didn’t get in the way. Chloe was the only person Aubrey actually trusted with her life. Sure she trusted Happy and Lilly but they were practical people and business was business. The Doc however…she was all heart, and Aubrey trusted that. They’d become friends even if Aubrey did occasionally use her leverage to coerce the doctor into helping them.

“Walk me to the door Posen.”

Aubrey nodded and reached out to bring Stacie’s hand to her lips to kiss softly over the other woman’s knuckles. “Be right back.”

Stacie nodded with a smile and Aubrey flicked her gaze at Lilly. The smaller woman nodded and settled into a chair to wait and keep an eye on Stacie. Of course they were absolutely safe in her house but she wasn’t keen on letting the brunette out of her sight any time soon. Aubrey followed Doc Beale to the front door, hesitating before opening it.

“Look Doc, thanks. I know it’s late. I’m sorry for dragging you out.”

Chloe watched her for a long moment before she took a step closer to Aubrey and let herself finally say what she had been holding back in front of Stacie.

“Let’s be clear on things Aubrey. I don’t like what you do, it’s not right, but I owe you and I’m in too deep to ever get out now so I just deal with it. But if you ever hurt her…I swear to God I will ruin you and I don’t care if I go down in flames with you. I have lines, don’t cross mine.”

It was the harshest thing she’d ever heard the doctor say and oddly Aubrey respected it. She gave a short nod and stepped back. The challenge was unexpected but it validated why she trusted Chloe with her life. Because Doc Beale was a good person, and for all her mistakes she was strongly committed to protecting the innocent ones that couldn’t or wouldn’t protect themselves. The blonde’s lips twitched in a slight wry smile.

“I believe you Doc.”

“Good. That being said…” The ice melted from Chloe’s eyes and she nudged Aubrey’s shoulder playfully. “She’s beautiful and I’m glad I finally got to meet her. I wish it had been under better circumstances. Next time?”

“Sure. Dinner. I’ll make the shrimp and vodka sauce you like, it’ll be a thing and I’ll even invite people. You could maybe meet someone.”

The doctor gave her a look and shook her head. “If you try to set me up with your crooked cop pal one more time I’m going to stop giving you anesthesia when I pull bullets out of you.” It wasn’t an idle threat, Aubrey had experienced it once before and did not enjoy it one bit.

“What? Bec is great and you know she makes good money.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, shoved her again and swung open the door. “No.”

“You could do worse.”

Doc Beale flipped her the bird as she walked out to the driveway. Aubrey watched her get into her car and drive away before she shut the door. Happy came in from somewhere down the hall and held out the blonde’s cell phone. The usual smile she wore was gone, a scowl in its place. “Whitman.”

Aubrey’s lip curled and she took the phone from the other woman with a slight nod.

“You have my money?”

There was no preamble, it wasn’t necessary and she was working hard to keep her voice even as it was. Adding small talk would just be that much more difficult. The line was silent for a moment before he spoke. He sounded so sure of himself and so sure she would be pleased with him.

“Yes, I have it here. I’m at home if you want to come pick it up.”

She didn’t like it. She didn’t have any control over the environment and this time she wasn’t taking any chances. Aubrey shook her head and sighed. “No, you can come to The Bird. Twenty minutes.” She hung up before he could answer and handed the phone back to Happy. “Call Detective Mitchell. Tell her to meet us there.”

Aubrey headed upstairs and padded into the bedroom. Stacie was standing at the bathroom sink looking at her bruised face in the mirror and she stopped in the doorway unwilling to come closer. The brunette watched her reflection in the glass somehow understanding why Aubrey was keeping her distance.

“You didn’t do this to me Aubrey.”

“Didn’t I? This blood is on my hands too Stace and I am so so sorry.”

The guilt crashed down on her and her shoulders bowed under the weight. Stacie turned away from the counter and stood directly in front of Aubrey. “Stop. Don’t you dare take responsibility for this. Do you honestly think this wouldn’t have happened for any other arbitrary reason? Because it would. Something else would have set him off if not tonight then any other random night.”

She was silent still, unwilling to give up her blame in all this. Stacie sighed and leaned into Aubrey’s body needing to feel the warmth and safety of the blonde’s arms around her. And she complied willingly, glad beyond reason that Stacie wasn’t running for the hills yet.

“Aubrey, he hurt me because I fought back. I stood up to him for the first time in years. If you want to take credit for something, then take credit for giving me back my voice.” Stacie’s lips were soft when they brushed against her own and Aubrey sighed into the kiss feeling the knot in her gut ease marginally. “He might threaten me, he might try to hurt me, he might even ruin me…but he’ll never own me. I won’t go back to being that woman and it feels so good to be me again.”

She wasn’t about to let Weston ruin Stacie, let alone try to put his hands on her again. And while it was good to hear that Stacie was slowly rebuilding herself it didn’t really absolve Aubrey of her sins. She nudged at Stacie’s nose with her own and sighed. “I’m going to take care of it, I promise.” She let go of Stacie reluctantly and backed away so she could leave but Stacie held on tighter, face buried in Aubrey’s neck, just breathing her in.

“I want to go with you.”

Aubrey held her breath at that trying to gauge exactly why Stacie wanted to go. It wasn’t going to be a fun time for anyone and she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted the brunette to witness all that. “Stacie…”

“Please.”

She couldn’t say no to the request and didn’t really want to. However bad it was about to get she didn’t like the thought of Stacie being too far away. Maybe Stacie didn’t either.  So if they were going to do this, they were doing it together.

 --------------------------------------------------------

 “Miss Posen.”

Aubrey looked up from lining up her shot with a simple roll of her eyes. Weston stood nervously at the far end of the pool table. Her arm came back in a smooth fluid gesture to hit the ball she had previously been so intent on. The shot went wide after the bank and cue ball rolled right past the 5 and into the corner pocket.

“Scratch.”

A long breath eased out of her as she slowly stood, eyes never leaving his face. She knew he was baiting her by even commenting so she let her lips quirk into a grin that didn’t match the predatory intensity of her gaze.  Aubrey tapped the butt of her cue stick on the ground as she made her way toward him, gesturing with her free hand for Happy to close and lock the door. It was after closing anyway but she didn’t want someone to randomly wander in while she was in the middle of business.

Her eyes tracked to the camera above the bar wondering what Stacie was thinking right then, or if she was even watching at all. A part of her hoped that she wasn’t watching at all, hoped that Detective Mitchell was keeping her entertained and distracted while Aubrey let her darkness bleed all over Weston Whitman. But that wasn’t the kind of woman Stacie was and even though she couldn’t know for sure that Stacie was watching she almost felt the other woman’s presence through the lens.

Her eyes traveled back to Weston then the table as she reached into the pocket to retrieve her ball. “Did you bring my money?”

Weston nodded a little too quickly, his nervousness screaming out to everyone there. He would have been an easy mark in a card game, he had no poker face whatsoever. He raised his bag and Lilly snatched it from his hand, not giving him a chance to reach into it for anything. Just in case. Aubrey gave her a nod and Lilly opened the bag and pulled out the stacks of cash, laying them out neatly on the felt top of the table. It wasn’t enough and she let out another slow breath having already expected it.

“I know it’s not everything like we agreed but I can get it. I have the money, I have plenty of it.”

There really wasn’t anything to say so she put the cue ball down lightly on the table and rolled it to bump against the money lightly.

“That’s disappointing.” Her body coiled tightly and Aubrey pulled her fist back before rocketing it forward hard into his ribs with three quick powerful jabs. Weston doubled over, wincing away to protect his injured side. Aubrey tossed her stick onto the tabletop and reached out to yank his left arm away from his body, another hard blow catching him just below the armpit so he was too hurt to pull away. “Our deal was not for partial payment Mr. Whitmore.”

He wheezed but managed to pull his arm out of her grip. Weston moved back a couple of steps and shifted his body to guard his side as she started to circle him. It was a defensive move she had hoped for. She wanted him to fight back just enough for her to break him. “I can get it. I swear I can get it.”

“You can get it? Or you have it? Which is it Weston?” She gave a testing little jab that wasn’t meant to land just to fluster. Whitman ducked and weaved a little though not as quickly as he would have had his ribs not been sore already. “Because if you have it, it would be on my table right now with the rest. So either you’re lying to me or you’re holding out on me.”

One of her testing jabs caught him on the chin and he lashed out instinctively. It was a shot she blocked easily, leaving him wide open for a hard punch to the gut that left him on his knees gasping for breath. She backed up a step and slid the jacket from her shoulders, laying it neatly over the back of a chair. She took the time to roll up her sleeves while he tried to suck oxygen into lungs gone tight and empty. This time when she grabbed his hand he didn’t resist.

“Can get. My wife…”

What little control she had gained over her emotions burst and she kicked sharply at his ribs with the point of her toe knowing it would crack the bones easily. “Lots of excuses. Sounds like holding out to me. You know what holding out is Mr. Whitman? It’s stealing.”

Aubrey placed his hand flat on the table even as he struggled to get to his feet. Breathing was still an issue for him so she didn’t expect him to chime in with anything. “Stealing is a serious offense. Stealing from me…that’s an unforgiveable sin.” She gave a quiet hum just as her long fingers closed around the cue ball. The weight of it felt good as she lifted it high and brought it down hard to smash his hand. Weston screamed out in pain and her hand fisted around the ball, bringing it around for a hard left hook that toppled him back to the floor.

Whitman tried to crawl away from her but Happy stood directly in his path, blocking his way to freedom. “You want me to finish him, Boss?”

“Not yet.” Because Weston Whitman would die, of that she was sure. Just not until she was ready for him to die. Aubrey spared another glance at the camera before hefting the cue stick. Weston curled in on himself trying to protect his soft middle but she was fine with the parts of him that were exposed. She swung the stick around in a whistling arc to land against his unprotected back, each blow falling harder than the last to punctuate her words until the stick snapped with the force of it. “Where. Is. My. Fucking. MONEY!”

He was crying and begging for forgiveness but she just couldn’t seem to find the pity in her heart. How many times had Stacie begged him to stop? How many times had she cried out in pain? Aubrey tossed the broken half of the stick away, standing tall while he cowered like a worm on the ground. The blonde woman worked the knot of her tie down and unbuttoned the top button hoping it would cool the heat pulsing in her chest like a slow thick lava.

“I swear I can get it. I swear. My wife…” She wanted to hurt him more every time he mentioned Stacie because he didn’t deserve to think about her let alone speak of her. Aubrey stalked forward and reached down to grip one of his ankles, pulling his leg taut. Weston kicked out in a weak attempt to push her away and she had to use all her strength and focus to keep her grip. When he struggled too much she landed a swift kick to his groin and jerked his leg hard, twisting the ankle and breaking it with a sick crack. Weston screamed out again, and she smiled down at him clearly enjoying his suffering. “P-please. She has it. She has all of it and more. Please let me call her.”

Aubrey considered it a moment then settled casually on the edge of the pool table. “What makes you think your wife is going to just give you the kind of money that you owe? She’s that loyal and loves you that much?”

He didn’t know, still hadn’t put all the pieces together in his head, but he was with it enough to know lying wasn’t going to help him now. Weston shook his head and laughed humorlessly. “Fuck no. She hates my guts but I have dirt on her. She’ll pay. I know she will.”

There. There it was. The one thing she’d been waiting to hear. Aubrey snapped her fingers and Lilly held out a cigarette and lit it for her while she evaluated Weston from her perch above him. Of course he would be the type of man that needed to control everyone by holding their dirty little secrets over them. She took a long drag, letting him sweat out the seconds as she pretended to think about things. “What kind of dirt?”

She could tell he didn’t want to tell her so she gestured to Happy, the curly haired woman beaming brightly when she pulled back her leg and kicked him hard enough to flip him on his back. Weston groaned and cradled his mangled hand to his chest, trying to keep it somewhat protected. “Wait wait. I have videos. Things she’d never want to get out. It would ruin her, ruin her name and all her work. I promise she’ll pay.”

Happy brought her foot up to stomp on him but Aubrey gave a slight shake of her head and moved to kneel over Weston Whitman. The smoke from her cigarette curling around them in a pale gray haze. “It’s not about the money anymore. You see, you lied to me, you held out on me, and you come into my house and insult me by being short on what you owe. Paying up your debt doesn’t even begin to cover making us square, so unless you have something worth your life…”

Aubrey stood and turned her back on Weston, letting Happy land a few hard kicks and stomps that left him sobbing brokenly on the floor.

“Give me something worthwhile Wes.” The muscles in her shoulders twitched when he crawled the few feet to her and rested a bloodied hand on her ankle. Aubrey kicked off his hand and pushed him over with her foot. “Anything?”

“Drive. You can have the drive. It’s everything. She’s not the only one on it, you can extort very important people. People with more money than God.”

Finally. Aubrey ashed out the cigarette and smiled widely. Finally. She stared down at him, her eyes contemplative and calculating. “Where is it?”

“I can get it.” This time it was Lilly who kicked out at him and he whimpered piteously.

“You think I’m stupid? You’re going to take us to it.” Aubrey watched as her girls picked Weston up and half dragged him out the back door to the car. She waited a few moments until he was tucked in the back of the trunk before she made her way to the office behind the bar. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find when she opened the door so she steeled herself against the possibility that this was going too far for Stacie.

She cracked the door open and took a breath ready for whatever judgement she saw waiting for her. Detective Mitchell was sitting at her desk, feet propped on it, enjoying a glass of Lagavulin while watching the security monitors. Her amused smirk the only indication that she’d actually seen what happened. Stacie was sitting on the edge of the desk, close enough to the monitors to have seen if she wanted to.

“It’s time.”

Stacie turned bright eyes toward her and nodded solemnly. There was a shadow in her eyes that worried Aubrey a little and she held out a hand cautiously hoping it wouldn’t be rejected. Stacie took it, warm fingers lacing with her own and she let out a held breath.

“Okay you guys are gross.” Beca stood and pushed past them, finishing the drink as she went. “It’s making my Scotch taste bad, and the gratuitous displays of affection, jeez. Keep it in your pants maybe.” Detective Mitchell winked teasingly at them and headed out for the car, leaving them alone for a moment. Aubrey chuckled softly and turned to meet Stacie’s gaze.

“Are you…are you alright with this?”

Stacie tugged Aubrey closer, drawing her into a kiss before touching foreheads. They were still for a moment just breathing in the silence. “Not gonna lie and say it was easy to watch. It wasn’t. But am I okay with what you had to do? Yes. Yes I am. I’m with you until the end.”

It was all she needed to hear. Aubrey kissed her softly, all of her love lingering with the sweetness of the kiss. They’d make it through this and anything else that came their way. She didn’t have any more doubts about that.

 --------------------------------------------------------

 Aubrey looked around the plush interior of the cabin and shook her head. It was beautiful and opulent and everything that she expected from Weston Whitman. It was exactly the type of place women went to and were never heard from again. She had to hand it to him, it was pretty brilliant. No one would ever think to look on a boat for the type of evidence to prove Whitman’s crimes. And out at sea no one would ever hear the screams of his victims. He was so full of himself he had even named his boat ‘Lady Killer’, so sure no one would ever catch on to the truth.

Happy and Lilly led Weston down the few stairs to the cabin, helping him none too gently into a chair. Aubrey looked around at the living room area, reaching out to pick up a glass chess piece from the set on the table. She rolled it in her hand, using the gesture to help her keep her cool. “Nice place.”

He watched her taking everything in with a critical eye, hate etched deep in his weighty gaze. Aubrey turned to stare at him when he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Pain and humiliation making him belligerent and brooding. But she had ways of making people talk. “Go fuck yourself.”

Aubrey chuckled and pulled her gun out of the holster. Her steps brought her around in a tight circle around him and she poked him hard in the back of the head with the barrel of firearm. “Don’t get cute Whitman. You still have a lot of bones to break. Where’s the drive?”

“Up your cu…” A scream cut his words off when she aimed and shot into his knee, obliterating the cap without so much of a flicker of emotion. Weston squeezed his thigh above his knees with his one good hand, his breathing growing erratic and she wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t pass out. Steps sounded on the stairs and Beca took in the scene with a questioning raised brow. The sound of a gunshot bringing her down to investigate. Aubrey shrugged innocently at the cop and trailed a finger over the hard plastic case of the flare gun.

“Hey Richie Rich.”

The look he gave her was dark and if looks could kill Detective Mitchell would be gasping out her last bloody breaths. “You’re a cop…d-do something.”

Beca made a show of patting her all her pockets before reaching into the inner pocket of her leather jacket and pulling up her middle finger with a smirk. “Looks like I forgot my badge at your mom’s last night.”

“You bitch.” Aubrey smacked him on the back of the head with her gun.

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

Weston sighed and pointed to the wet bar along the wall. “In the cabinet, in the bag of coffee beans.”

He watched as Beca moved to the cabinet and started pulling things out and tossing the over her shoulder until she found several bags of coffee beans. She opened them and upended them until something clinked on the floor. She picked it up and tossed it to Aubrey who caught it one handed and inspected it. Two flash drives hung from a chain and she glanced around looking for something to play them on.

She spotted a laptop and quickly booted it up, placing the chess piece next to her gun on the table. Aubrey clicked off the sound and waited for all the videos to load. They were conveniently labeled by dated folder and she opened the first. Weston was watching her carefully, noting the ticks and twitches on her face as she skipped through the videos. None of them were Stacie but all of them were horrible and sick. Some of them were just Weston, some of them had his friends. Aubrey even recognized a few of them, one of them she was sure was the man that had tried to manhandle Stacie at the charity event.

Aubrey pulled the drive out and put in the other one. There were less videos but they were longer and all of them featured Stacie. She swallowed hard as she watched the woman suffer at Weston’s hand over and over again. It was disgusting and she could tell that he was waiting for her reaction, ready to savor it. Aubrey closed the laptop and pocketed the thumb drive in her vest. The blonde whistled softly and tossed the other one back to Beca before gripping her gun lightly again.

“What’s this? Christmas in July?”

“You wanted a case, now you have one.” She jerked her head in a short nod toward Weston before holding Detective Mitchell’s gaze. None of this would be happening if Beca hadn’t played her part so well and truthfully she wanted all those son of a bitches to pay for the things they’ve done. What better way than to let the law take care of them? “Consider it a bonus for a job well done.”

Beca looked at the drive and then at Weston as if she were weighing the benefit for her career versus the amount of work it would take to see it all through. After a second she shrugged and headed for the stairs up to the deck. She gave them a parting look as if she might say something but she thought better of it and kept walking, a silent testimony to Aubrey’s control. Weston watched her leave suddenly realizing he was a pawn the entire time.

“So this was the game all along wasn’t it? Get your little friend to blackmail me just so you could loan me money I could never repay? You set me up.”

Aubrey picked up the glass piece again and gestured to the game board. “Do you play chess Mr. Whitman?”

He gave her a terrified and confused look, frowning at the question. Now that she had what she wanted he was just a loose end. He probably longed for it, longed for a moment of pain free bliss of his death. She would have if she had been in his place. And there really was no reason for her to keep him alive other than the fact that she wanted him to suffer more than he had ever suffered in his life. “Are you going to kill me or what you miserable bitch?”

“I ask because I play chess. I like seeing all the pieces on the board, and moving those pieces to exploit my opponent’s weaknesses.” She chuckled softly and as she moved to the corner of the room and raised her foot to the tip the gas can over that Lilly had left for her. “If your opponent doesn’t appear to have a weakness you create one. You see Wes…I knew who you were before you even set foot in my place. And no it wasn’t your financial prowess that preceded you. I knew your face though.” She moved to another corner and tipped another can of gas. She hadn’t prepared to have this all go down on a boat but she couldn’t deny the fact that it was a convenient way to get rid of him. She stopped in front of Weston, the stairs to the deck behind her. “I knew your face because I saw it in the wedding photo on your nightstand when I was fucking your wife in your bed. I’ve taken everything you had Weston. Your car, your job, your money, your reputation, your good looks and now…now I’ve got your wife.”

The blood drained from his face and she watched as he crumbled in on himself. She could hear steps on the stairs but didn’t turn to look because she knew who it was already. She hadn’t expected Stacie to come down to face him but she wasn’t exactly surprised by it either. Aubrey didn’t blame her for needing some kind of closure to whole affair. Weston had plagued her for long enough.

“Stacie…you bitch, you goddamned bitch. I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Aubrey took the drive out of her pocket and handed it over to Stacie without the other woman asking for it. The brunette opened her mouth to say something but Aubrey gently closed her fingers over the drive and raised it to her lips for a soft kiss. They didn’t need to talk about it ever again and Aubrey would never hold it against her. It was finally over for Stacie, and she could control her own life from this point forward.

“No Wes…you won’t. You won’t touch me ever again and the memory of you is already fading from my mind.”

Stacie leaned in for a warm kiss, showing Aubrey exactly how she felt without having to say a single word. When they pulled apart Aubrey turned and placed the glass queen on the table beside him and smirked.

“I’d kill you but that’s too easy Whitman. You’ll survive this, you’ll be damaged permanently I’m sure, but you’ll be alive. You might even be able to make a deal with Detective Mitchell to rat on your buddies. It might make your prison time a little more pleasant because make no mistake, if you survive those wounds you will go to prison. Probably for the rest of your very short life.”

“You fucking piece of trash…”

Aubrey raised the gun in her hand and pulled the trigger. It was sharp and loud but nearly as loud as the wailing keen from Weston as he toppled out of the chair trying to cradle his other wounded knee to his body. She tucked the gun away into its holster and adjusted her jacket over it, concealing it from sight. Stacie turned Aubrey toward her, tightening and straightening the dark purple tie she wore. It was sweetly domestic and she liked that Weston watched every gesture between them with disbelieving eyes.

“You should be thanking me you know. That dental work I did for you will make you really popular where you’re going. If you’re real nice to the right people you can earn yourself from protection with it.” She took Stacie’s hand when she was done fixing her tie and led her to the stairs and up onto the deck. She could hear the soft sobs from the broken man in the cabin and it only made her smile wider.

Her boat was bobbing gently next to the one they were on and she led Stacie over to it. A loud thump hit the bottom of the stairs and she peered down to see him laboriously trying to climb up. “You’re a dead woman and you don’t even know it. You think you won the game Posen? You don’t even know who you’re playing with. You’re so dead.”

Aubrey nodded. “Maybe. But not by your hand and not today. There’s a flare gun in there, if you make it to the deck you might be able to signal for help before you pass out from blood loss.” She closed the hatch door on his sputtering threats and made her way over to her boat. Stacie waited by the rail at the stern of ‘The Queen of Hearts’ and she carefully made her way across to the other vessel. When she was safely on board she gave a nod to Beca who gunned the engines to pilot them away from Weston’s boat.

Stacie laced their fingers together and they smiled at each other. No matter what happened now Weston was going to suffer for it all. Aubrey slid her sunglasses on and watched his boat shrink the further away they got. “You good, Stace?”

There was silence a moment longer before the orange glare of flames tinged the horizon where Weston’s boat dipped and rolled with the gentle movement of the water. “We’re together and I’ve never been better.”