—chapter eight.

  ❛ d'ya ever just realise how much
your life is falling apart? ❜  

LET IT BE KNOWN, IT HAD BEEN A YEAR AND MAYBE FOUR MONTHS SINCE THE LAST TIME ELODIE KISSED SOMEONE.

She couldn't remember their name, their face, only that it happened and then it didn't. And it made sense. Before, years before, she was eager to build relationships with people after feeling nothing but pain her entire life - she wanted to experience love, real love. But love wasn't found in the dark eyes watching her way too closely, or in the harsh language that sent her spiralling for weeks after those fateful days. She soon realised that the ones she looked to for love cared more for lust, and the ones who might offer love, would never look at her for anything but their coffee order.

The idea of a romantic relationship, whether it lasted one night or a million, was a painful concept that she didn't get. Or rather, she came to realise, that she wouldn't get from the people she sought it out from.

So, she gave up the concept entirely.

It wasn't a fact Elodie hid. She embraced it. She moved out and moved on and left her baggage burning, just as she had her entire life. All that mattered was work and Ellis and sometimes just plain ol' survival, and that was fine. It was manageable, and albeit mediocre, but maybe she was satisfied with mediocre. She would live mediocre until it killed her, and that was fine.

Until some sonofabitch had waltzed right back in and flipped that mediocrity off.

And then, the sonofabitch kissed her. 

He had gone right for it, swooped in and kissed her like in those old movies, taking the maiden in their arms and walking out a complete mystery. Sure, it was a dirty apartment lobby, she would refuse the title of damsel right until she was half past dead, and he had not really saved her, just walked her home.

But as much as she hated to admit it to herself, it had been a damn good kiss.

It nagged at her all through the night, through her tossing and turning and shallow sleep. It followed her through the rush of waking up too late, chanting in her ear as she showered and choking her up as she sipped her morning tea. It chased her down the street to the meeting she was running late for and even when she screamed at it to 'leave her the fuck alone', it just laughed and made her smile like a teenager after her first real smooch.

Elodie found herself hobbling into her lawyer's office with aching ankles, frantic curls flying all about her head in total pandemonium, and the memory of her first kiss in maybe-sixteen months haunting her like the world's shittiest ghost.

Needless to say, her habit of running late and ruining yet another morning was carrying on strong.

"Miss Verbeck, hello."

"Sorry, I'm so late. I got - um - held up." Held up, by what, her emotional torment? Quarter-life crisis? Idealizations that were going to send her into an anxiety attack mere hours from then? Bullshit. All of it, everything, bullshit. "Traffic, you know?"

Both knew that was a lie (like admittedly, most things Elodie said), but at least Matialli was polite enough to accept it. Her hand waved to indicate taking a seat.

Like always, pleasantries were skipped and the woman went straight into business, which both made her feel both content and desperately nauseous. Elodie wiped her hands down on her slacks, cringing at their clamminess. "Is there - what's - um, sorry, my mind's all over the place. Maybe you should just--"

Matialli pursed her lips. "Sure. Well, at this point, I've gathered most of what I'll need for your father's defense. Testimonials, possible arguments, the evidence -" her hand waved aimlessly in the air. 

"Who-" Elodie licked her lips, though it did no good in bringing moisture back into them. "Who's willing to testify for 'im?"

Matialli flipped open the file in front of her, scrounging until she found the right paper. "A coworker from his old place of work, um...a man who was walking his dog at the same time of the events. As well as his current pastor. I suppose, not so current anymore, but-"

"-wait. Pastor?" That was a shock. The man was not religious, not in the slightest. He had scorned religion even when his own mother gently tried to offer up perfectly reasonable compromises for her daughter to attend church with her. What a fucking joke, she mused, worrying her nails against her palms. "How recent?"

"He went right up until he was caught, really. Even still, he's made periodical visits to the cell."

"What's his name?"

Pause. "Um...a Frederick Dunham."

The name rang no bells, but she still stored it away for later, setting a mental reminder to tear apart all she could remember about her father's 'friends'.

Elodie folded her hands in her lap and tried to steady herself, though really to no avail. Her fingers trembled violently against her pants fabric. "What do you think? Of the outcome, I mean."

She knew the answer she'd get from her was not going to be the one she wanted. It never would be - because obviously, someone who wanted a man put behind bars, wouldn't hire a good ass lawyer to argue his way out of them. And yet, she awaited the woman's response eagerly.

"I don't know. It really depends, but-" she cut herself off. She leant her weight forward towards Elodie, her bob casting ominous shadows against her pale skin. "I would like to think we will win this. We've got sufficient evidence of reasoning and some strong testimonials, even if they're few in number. There's a very, very strong chance that at least, I will argue your father down to a much smaller sentence than what they're asking for."

Elodie forced a smile at that, straining her lips over her grinding teeth. Her fingers writhed in her lap. The thunder was building in her chest, sharp aches soft reminders of just what it meant if Matialli was being honest with her.

But she couldn't let it hurt just yet. This wasn't a game of cops and robbers or cat and mouse. This was real, and if she could do anything, it had to be this.

"How strong is the other's defense?"

"Honestly? They're probably feeling confident in this. Considering what they're arguing your father did."

"Course."

"But I'm not going to go down without a fight. And honestly this is more than I thought we'd ever get out of this. I would be hopeful, Verbeck."

Oh, precious Matialli. May she rest well at night - because Elodie sure would never. "Sure. Great."

"What is it?"

Her gaze lifted from her twisting hands in her lap to meet the woman in front of her. The thunder was starting to echo; she hoped Matialli wouldn't get close enough to hear it.

"Nothing," Elodie mumbled. She straightened her back in her chair. "Nothing. I - it sounds good. You seem to know what you're doing, and I trust that this case will work out, or...whatever. I mean, I'll know in a few weeks, right?"

Matialli leant forward in her chair, "Elodie, what is it?"

She felt like a little kid again, sitting across from the teacher, trying not to cry as her too-short legs swung on the chair and she sucked back air. They had the same eyes, she mused. Human lie detectors designed to make her squirm and hate her father for making her lie like this.

"Nothing. Seriously, I trust in you and your work and - I have somewhere to be, actually, um...something in an hour, I gotta head off very soon so if you have any concerns?"

"No, just-"

"-okay, great, good. Glad we're both on the same page, searching for justice and all that to save-" oh, who was she kidding. Just drop it. "I'll see you next week to finalise details and make sure it's all ready. Great seeing you like always."

"I need to get your confirmation on these things, actually? If you don't mind reading them through."

"Can you email them to me? I'll bring them, or uh, scan them to you?"

"Elodie-"

-but she was too busy focusing on getting out of there to stop and consider the woman in front of her. The thunderous panic was getting harder to keep in and she knew it was inevitable for it to break out - but she didn't want to do it in front of Matialli. Certainly not Matialli.

Elodie rushed through what felt like forever of confirmations and goodbyes and good lucks, smiling a watery grin once she had the chance to leave. She bolted down the stairs (because there was no way she would make it to the elevator) and to the tiny bathroom she knew stood just right of the main lobby. She moved with panicked practice, slamming the stall door and pressing her trembling fingers together, begging for them to just stop, for once in their life stop.

Five minutes later and she walked out cool and brusque, leaving the pile of charred toilet paper as the only odd evidence of her presence. She passed everyone with her head up and back straight, ignoring the lump in her throat and focusing on just getting on the bus.

Compartmentalizing was never a good solution, but it had to be a temporary one that day. At least until she could get back home.

Back home safe.

"IT WENT OKAY."

"You always say that it went okay. I'm asking for you to be honest with me, Elodie, not play games."

Elodie nibbled at her broken nail, trying to distract herself from the desire to throw the phone at the opposite wall. It'd not be a good idea, and she had to remind herself that her apartment was not worth enough to pay damages for - she was already getting ripped off enough. There were better ways to get out anger, and better times.

She spat a nail fragment into the trash.

"I don't know, I mean, it's a job interview. It's always hard to say."

"Did you wear that nice blazer I got you?"

"Yes."

"And did you smile?"

"What? Of course, I smiled."

"Don't say of course when you never smile, Elodie. Is it so wrong to ask you of a common expression you so easily forget about?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've done this before, Grandmother."

The rocking chair on the other end shrieked at her lie. "I know that."

"Well, then, have a little faith that I won't mess this up. Believe it or not, I can do things well sometimes."

"Lose the snippy tone. I was simply asking because I care about you and your success, you know that."

She, in fact, did not. "I know. Sorry, Grandmother."

They talked a little more, Elodie diverting from the topic to discuss Ellis, if only to stop her heart from bursting in her chest. But the older woman was happy to talk about him too; she obliged all questions and went on about his recent science projects, telling her how his teacher her herself how gifted the child was.

She smiled a little at that. 

Unfortunately, Grandmother told her, Ellis wasn't available to talk - he stayed after school for some robotics event that she did not really understand. But she would be sure to make him tell her at a later time. In return, Elodie brought up a couple of lies she had tucked away to placate the woman; moments with people she had never met and places she supposedly visited lately, to make it sound like she did more than she would ever do. None of them were serious and easy to fake - it seemed the older woman had no interest in her activities really, just eager to make sure she was doing something.

She dared not bring up the trial. They had very different views on it and the man it was focused on, and it never ended well when they debated it. She herself didn't want to think about it, let alone bring it up with a woman who still very much loved her only son. Generalised statements like 'hoping life works out' were much easier than playing a twisted game of Accusations.

Eventually, Grandmother ran out of things to rib Elodie about, and she had to go. She left Elodie sitting on her kitchen counter with a lukewarm beer and alone. She rarely drank, but it just had to be that sort of night, even if it was still light out.

Time didn't mean anything, anyways.

Her knees came up to her chest and she rested her chin upon them, trying not to think about the horror lying in front of her. About the fact that in far too little time, she was going to have to sit and listen to him get out of a sentence he oh so deserved, all with a smile that screamed the total opposite of her beliefs.

She could hardly look at the man, think about him without wanting to cry - there was no way she was going to be able to sit through his trial. Hear him declare his innocence like there was any reason to beat a man in front of his family, listen to Matialli defend his cruel actions and pretend like she believed her fullheartedly...

Elodie took another swig and curled her toes. She burped, loudly, into the silence.

She really was a wreck, the woman mused, holding the slim bottle in her fingers. There she was at a month past twenty-three with her father in jail, half her income floating right over so the only person she gave a shit about could survive, no friends to account for and a whole boatload of shit. Just shit, everything about it was just that - steaming piles of shit that she had resigned herself to live in.

Another swig.

Another curse.

Hopefully, her neighbours couldn't hear her whining. She didn't want to deal with any people anymore that night.

Another swig.

Then another bottle.

She was starting to forget her apartment's thin walls. Her body rattled against the countertop, boiling from the inside out.

"I was a kid," she groaned, swallowing down her hurt with more beer. She swiped lazily at her eyes, pulling her hand back to see flecks of old makeup stain her knuckles. Elodie sighed again.

"A kid...what do kids even do? Play, eat, shit...fuck, I don't even know what a seven year old's s'posed to...fuckin'...do, an' that's all your doing, Dad..."

Her head pounding angrily against the kitchen cabinets. The beer bottle shook and splashed boiling liquid against her pajama pants; she didn't even notice.

"Sonabitch father couldn't even give me the knowledge of what 'm missin...out on..." she laughed, bitter and shrill in the tiny space. "I was a kid! A KID...a KID...but you, you saw me as a weapon you could just turn on and off when you got bored of playing with me! I was a KID!"

Her sentence was accented with a scream and then the toss of her beer bottle at the garbage can. At least, it was supposed to be there; she missed horribly and it shattered against the wall. Bits of glass dripped with the too-hot beer and coated the floor in brown. Her neighbours called from the other side of the wall; she didn't care.

She still yelled.

"Dammit! Damn you, you fuck-ing toad-faced dickhead!"

Elodie took another bottle and began to drink, swinging her bare legs on the kitchen counter and cursing and grumbling only to herself at the life she never got to live. No one was listening, of course, but she didn't really care. She wouldn't have wanted them to - but it was nice to talk out what she actually felt for once, even if it was just to her own tormented self.

No matter.

Two hours later and she would be curled up in bed with reruns of House Hunters blaring on her crappy little TV screen. The fun of drinking was quickly lost; she found herself spinning drearily in the misery of a bleak existence, too hot and too tired and too broken.

Her gaze slipped from the television to her hand, still clutched tight to the cooled putty shape coating it. She tried to remember what utensil it had been before its massacre - a spoon, maybe. Not that it mattered. She pushed it away and back with its pitiful friends, all misshapen and melted down like that maybe-spoon.

Her head lifted from the pillow underneath it, towards where she knew her telephone was. Despite the fact she could hardly see, hear, walk or get that stupid taste of beer out of her too-dry mouth, she smiled, forcing herself up.

Before the night before the cursed one before her, she had not felt at all close to anyone for a year and four months. And maybe that didn't count, considering it ended up with an eviction notice for vandalism and too pain for a broken heart to hold - but past numbers were mere figures, anyways. She hid and cursed and pushed away anyone who even remembered her name. The few that stayed in her life past five minutes were forced to be there, and she hardly tolerated their presence anyways. She just had to, for survivals sake.

But the asshole in spandex changed that, and the moment would stand as one of the few good ones from her past year.

Her head leant against the wall, pounding at it gently, asking for the dizziness to stop (forgetting that hitting something wasn't the answer). She spoke gibberish, at least it sounded gibberish to her, rambling so fast and hard that she forgot even words were coming at all, until-

"-what?"

Her head paused, mid-collide. "What?"

"What'd you say?"

"Uh...ignore that. Wasn't me."

His voice sounded nice, she mused, if not a little confused. "What?"

Elodie smiled to herself. "Don't say 'what' twice, dum...dummy."

"Are you okay?"

"Ha. No. Wait, yeah." she paused and swallowed, only to groan when her mouth remained too-dry. "I'm god. Good. Good."

"Uh..."

"Go to sleep, Robin Hood," she grumbled. "It's - it's fucking two in the morning, you should be asleep right now!"

"You called me."

"Liar."

"Are you drunk right now?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunched shut. "No. No, 'm not. Screw off."

"Right..." she was certain he was laughing then, but it was too quiet for her to be sure. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Fine. Couldn't be better."

"Sure sounds it."

She groaned. "You should go to bed."

"Right back at you."

"Sleep is for the weak, asshole."

That time she did hear his laugh; it echoed through the phone, and she wished he hadn't stopped to speak because his laugh really was nice.

"Goodnight, Elodie."

"Goodnight, Robin. Don't call this line again...less it's life or death."

He just laughed and hung up.

Elodie fell asleep on the couch that night, too tired to make her way back to her bed. At least the beers lulled her into a deeper sleep, even if it was filled with dreams of random white couples complaining about their too big houses.

Course, her induced sleep did mean she left her apartment in a scramble for a new job she did not even want (not really). She left her phone call with Diego at the far, far, far back of her mind and reapplied her crusted makeup in a rush, leaving the house in mismatched socks and a half-done ponytail coming apart the second she reached the elevator.

She also left her demons where they had mingled with the shattered beer bottles, a puddle of glass fragments and tears she would have to scrape off the kitchen floor later on. But, she could always worry about it later.

Because contrary to some beliefs, Elodie Verbeck did have more important things to do.

In this updated version of the book, I've removed the idea of modern technology, because it just doesn't fit and I didn't bring it back in right (because in the show, there's no modern technology either). So, there's no texting, rather she's called Diego. 

Also in this version, I'm trying to explore more of what I just sort of...gave Elodie's character the first time around. The first time, Elodie was far too ooc and she was just given a bunch of shit that was never addressed. I'm finding that I made her seem too perfect and that was never meant to be the case -- but I'm hoping that's going to come through here. We'll see. 

I know the ending bit is messy - to be honest, I completely forgot I had left off writing the end of this chapter, and then I just...wrote this in like two minutes. I'll edit later. :)

Thank you for reading, let me know what you think!