—chapter twenty-seven.

 ❛ so much history... ❜  

"M'THINKING ABOUT PICKING UP SOME DOUGHNUTS FROM GRIDDY'S."

Normally, that elicited at least a gasp of excitement from Ellis Verbeck, or some sound of quiet approval from the mention of the sweet treat. If there was any way to the young boy's heart, it was doughnuts, and normally she was able to use them as a segway into talking to him. But not that morning.

Elodie carefully maneuvered into a new line of traffic before sparing a glance to her brother beside her. He was settled against the other end of the car, looking out the window. Quiet and private as always. It didn't even seem like he had heard her -- and if it wasn't for the fact that there was no other sound but her voice, she would have assumed he hadn't.

"Doughnuts tonight? How's that sound?"

"Works for me," came his response several beats later. He didn't look her way.

Silence had never been an easy idea for Elodie to digest. She had grown up surrounded by noise, and learned to use other forms of sound to drown out the screams around her. But when there wasn't any sound at all, she often had found herself feeling lost and overwhelmed, like her own thoughts were going to be her downfall. Normally she was able to drum up some conversation between them; she'd mock her own poor driving skills and he would chime him, joking that 'that was why he never let her drive him to school'. Or, she would ask about his latest creation and draw his ideas out of him so that when he left the car she was left stunned and shocked that such a horrible man could be such an intelligent boy's father.

But not that day.

She glanced at him again. He remained in the same position, backpack pressed by his gangly legs and hands folded tight in his lap. "You okay, buddy?"

Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was like their therapist had said -- they cope differently, and sometimes people needed peace and quiet to sort their thoughts. Maybe school was bugging him, or their Grandmother, or anything else but her. She wasn't certain about that, but it was possible.

"Ellis? You with me?"

"How's Diego doing?"

Elodie very nearly crashed the car right then and there at his words. She had to swerve dramatically onto a smaller street, cursing and gripping her wheel so tight her knuckles turned white and smoke steamed. At least Ellis wasn't looking then, though by his words, that was the least of her problems then.

"Uh -- what? Why would you ask that?"

"I know you saw him. The other night."

"Hold on--"

"--come on, Elodie." There was a hint of amusement in the boy's voice that told her he wasn't exactly upset at her like she had thought. He sat solemnly, still avoiding her searching gaze, but that inkling kept her somewhat pacified. "That was his coat the other night. Right?"

Elodie hung her head back and groaned. "I should have known."

"Probably. Not like you have a lot of other friends. Especially those who favour black and bleed a lot."

"I have friends -- and Diego's not one of them."

"Mm. Okay."

"Don't 'mm, okay' me. I'm not lying."

He let out the softest breath of a chuckle. "I suppose you wouldn't call him a friend, no."

It was hard, to argue with Ellis. He had an irritatingly easy air about him that made it impossible to rattle him (well, most of the time). Where she fired up at the drop of a pin, he remained calm and thought about his actions before going through with any. He premeditated his attacks; she let loose with no plan in mind. 

"It's not what you think, trust me. He didn't come over for anything, uh...fun?" Bad word choice there, but she'd live with it. "Or, like..."

"I know about Mr. Hargreeves. We talked about him in class."

One pro about arguing with her little brother? At least he accepted facts. Though it didn't ease the humiliation rising colour across her face, it did help to ease the heat licking up her fingers. She slumped down in her seat and huffed.

"He came by after he found out. It was only about an hour, then he was gone. I didn't...wasn't in the mood to talk to him. Just felt bad."

"But then you brought him back his coat?"

She nodded slowly. "Right. Yeah. Then, we did talk, but that was it. Nothing's happened, happening, and nothing's gonna happen. He just needed someone to talk to and I guess...he was in the neighbourhood."

"You two really just talked?"

"We are capable of that, Ellie. And...yeah. Whatever went on between us is long since dead and buried. Been that way for years, and I'm good with that."

Ellis didn't say anything for a long moment as he pondered her answer. When he spoken again, there was a soft bemusement to the boy's voice that wasn't there before. "Are you telling me that, or you?"

"W-huh?"

"You were with him for a really long time. A lot happened. I don't blame you for still loving him."

If there had been any water in Elodie's mouth, it would have gone spraying all across the car, herself and her little brother, just from shock of his blunt statement. As it were with dry lips and tongue, all she could do was choke and fumble over her words. Though, she found it nearly impossible to find a single response to Ellis, stuck over the way he spoke it so easily. Like it was just fact. It wasn't, but...

"I liked Diego," Ellis remarked thoughtfully as his sister spluttered. "Out of anyone I've seen you with, I think he's the only one you ever cared about."

"I - well - that's just not true, man."

"Isn't it?"

"Diego was different," she tried to explain -- it was probably pointless, but she had to try. "He was there in a rough point of my life, when...you know, I was stupid young. I was lonely and I didn't really have anyone else there, and, you know, he felt that same way too. Sometimes, people just need someone there to remind them that...uh...there's still a light on. If that makes any sense at all."

Ellis cocked his head to consider her words. "Sure. But, you almost got engaged. Lived together, too, held a long relationship in comparison to --"

"--I was -- yeah. Thought we were better than we were, and then I realised we didn't know each other at all. Or we didn't know how to deal with ourselves, or -- why am I saying all this stuff?!"

"Feel free to talk. I don't mind working through this with you."

She snorted. "Nothing to work through. I got over the bump, realised I didn't need to lean on him anymore, and we set each other free. End of."

"But you still care for him."

"I...what is this? Are you playing relationship expert here Ellis? 'Cause I don't need help with something long dead and done."

"Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Done."

Her grip on the wheel only tightened more. "Yes."

"You don't sound like you believe that."

"Holy-jeez, bud-"

"--I know you don't wanna listen to me," he huffed, "but I'm not a little kid anymore. I know more than you think."

Elodie sighed, head slumping back in the seat. She knew he was doing his best to be helpful -- and maybe in a better state of mind, he would be. But thinking about him after all that had gone down in the past few days made her feel anxious in a way she hadn't in a long time. Not about someone being in her life, but the idea of them leaving again. Even after years of mental work, that idea still hurt. And she was too stubborn to foolishly entertain it anymore.

"Look," she finally said, carefully hiding the tremour in her voice, "life...is more complicated than just feelings and actions. There are consequences and other sides to stories and shit hurts more than you think it does."

"I know that."

"I know you know that. But, it's just...sometimes, it's too hard to push to make something work."

"You mean he didn't want to make it work."

Elodie shook her head. "No, he did. We both did, but -- we wanted different things. We weren't on the same page, and it was a difficult time for me as an individual, which I guess screwed that up to. With, what Grandmother, and the bar, and D...other stuff." She didn't want to speak his name, curse her morning for the worst. Bad luck and their father always went hand in hand, and she had no interest in entertaining either that day. "I don't know. We rushed into things too fast, made things bad down the road."

Ellis turned back to face the window, a faraway look reflecting on the glass window. "Doesn't mean you can't try it now."

"Why're you so insistent to make this work, all of a sudden?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, voice soft and small. "He just came back. And I guess I don't want you to lose that chance with him."

Elodie's heart dropped a little and she felt it pound at its hollow cage. She didn't let it speak its mind, though. They rode in silence for several passing moments before they slowed and Ellis was scooping up his backpack, readying himself at the car door.

"You can just drop me off here."

She nodded and pulled the car over to the sidewalk. Her eyes followed his every movement, watching him secure his bag against his shoulders, adjusting the weight so it didn't hang wrong, before opening the door and slipping out. He looked so small, looking back at her through the open car. Sometimes she forgot he wasn't older than her, then she'd look twice and remember he was still somehow that little kid she used to cuddle with on the couch when the nightmares got too bad. The little boy she used to give advice to, before he grew up and turned the tables.

Elodie leaned closer to him, trying to smile big. "I love you bud. I'll pick you up after your club meeting tonight, okay?"

"At four-thirty?"

She nodded. "I'll see you then."

Ellis hesitated before agreeing and pulling back. "I love you too." He moved away, but turned and just before she could roll the window up, shouted, "don't let this go!" before bolting away.

All she could do then was stare at his retreating back and bite back the flush that rolled through her, red-hot heat from embarrassment and a flurry of angry emotions always surging at thoughts for him. She sat frozen in the car and did not move until angry honks filled the air and she actually had to.

The problem with Ellis Verbeck was that most, if not every single thing he said, was right in some regard. Especially in this circumstance, and hell she knew that all too well. But he hadn't seen everything that went down -- she had made sure of that. Their fights only occurred when he wasn't around and she forced silence when he was, just to make sure he never had to hear the screams she did. He saw the good out of the relationship; she got the brunt of the blows.

But it hadn't been all bad.

Elodie groaned. She swerved, abruptly deciding to pull into a gas station and over to the disgruntled looking payphone in the corner. Her mind would not stop running if she did not give in and try to talk to him. Maybe just talking to him for a few minutes would clear things up. After all, before he was the only person she wanted to talk things out with. Maybe doing it now would help.

Actually, she knew for sure it would not. But she was far too anxious to just let it go after all that.

Red, trembling fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm as she listened to the rings, waiting and waiting for him to pick up, hearing a sharp inhale before a 'hello' that would immediately set her soul on fire. But then, as the rings went on and on, and she waited longer and longer, she realised there would be no greeting and no conversation. This was only cemented when she finally got through - to the answering machine.

"Shit," she cursed, listening to the operator list off the voicemail options. When the beep sounded, she had no choice but to speak, shaky and far from confident in all the things she had not prepared to say. "Uh...look, Diego, I know things were tense yesterday, really super bad, and I, uh didn't mean for things to go that way. I do want to, uh...well, I guess I just want to talk, make sure you're okay and maybe see if -- nope, just want to talk. Figured we should, considering how the last two times went. And...uh, call me back. Or don't. I don't care either way. Don't even know if this is your number anymore, but--okay, bye."

The phone dropped, and swung dramatically on its coiled cord, slapping against her pants leg before heading back the opposite way. She glared down at it, watching it move and wishing she could just blow the entire booth up. Another time.

"Elodie Verbeck, you really need to work yourself out."

LIKE MANY OF HER SPLIT-SECOND DECISIONS, THE VOICEMAIL STUCK WITH HER.

It lingered like a bad cold in January did. That was to say, no matter how she spent her day, the thought crept back to her and left her choking and trying to assure whoever she was talking to that she was okay when she really, really wasn't. There was a lump in her stomach that she hadn't felt in years, not since the last night they had spent together, and it ached in a way she hadn't missed.

It felt like shame. But for what?

Life carried however, however, and despite her worries Elodie had to too. She forced herself to carry on with work, helping out in front before meeting a familiar set of eyes and withdrawing for a while to chat with the sweet Eudora Patch. Neither knew much about the other's connection to Diego (or how intertwined the both of them really were) but they caught up in the back anyways, mingling small talk with a deeper, darker nature that made up much of their relationship.

Patch hadn't even been attached to her father's case. She was just started out, when Elodie and her met, and had only seen her a handful of times -- and yet after the trial and after everything, she was the only one who called and asked if she was okay. And from there, a tentative bond had been formed. It wasn't much; neither woman knew much about the other outside of work, and said careers kept them busy as all else. But Patch stopped by from time to time and Elodie welcomed her with a friendly smile and an offer to help with anything on her plate.

(Patch, of course, always refused. But she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.)

When the young woman left Elodie alone again, the aching lump returned and she clammed up again. She could not let it go. And she couldn't change anything, either -- there was no take-backs, no magic revers-o's to pull to erase the stupid voicemail. Her words were out there and they were killing her.

She was certain Ellis caught onto her misery; it wouldn't be hard to. But if he knew, he didn't say anything on it. He complied to the normal evening plans and acted as always, only with the slightest glimmer of mischief in his soft brown eyes that wasn't normally there. And when he hugged her goodnight, he offered a teasing undertone to his reminder for 'sweet dreams' -- something she did not miss for a second.

At least he had the decency not to ask. She respected that.

Late into the night Elodie was still up and sitting alone at the tiny kitchen table. A cup of steaming tea sat untouched beside her after being reheated about half a dozen times already (a couple of them by accident). That day's newspaper sat beside her, half-read through and messily tossed down. She never used to read the paper, that had always been Ellis' thing and he would tell her what had happened that day. But after being blindsided with...well, whatever the last couple days had been, she decided to give it a chance.

But it hadn't helped her nerves much. If anything, reading about the bloody crimes she normally missed panicked her more. Her mind always went back to him, and the way he had looked at her, and the way he had looked all those times before with blood dripping down and the softest cry staining his lips, and--

"--fuck sakes," she grumbled. "Snap out of it, Elodie."

She rose from the chair, mug in hand and headed towards the sink. The plan was to dump the tea, a waste that she'd live with tomorrow morning and head up to bed. But just as she turned the water off--

--SCRRRNNNNCCCHH.

"WHAT THE--"

For the second time that week, there was a hand pressed against the kitchen door panes. A face shone just behind it, darker than she had seen from him in a long time. It was a gruesome, ugly grief that stained his cheeks, even worse than the blood that dripped from his right temple. His misery soaked through the glass door and lunged for her throat, choking her out as she stood silently staring back at him. 

Elodie pushed forward, but the hand still held tight; she imagined it must only be a fraction of the pain he was feeling.

The door opened and he fell in. Without even thinking, her arms opened and closed around his dark frame. She clutched him tight to her like he wasn't taller and larger than her by two-fold, but just a boy meant to be cradled and shielded from the sorrows of the real world. His body shook in her arms and his own hands scrabbled to get any touch of warmth that radiated from her frame. A sliver of skin, just the touch to stop him from freezing up altogether.

Elodie pulled back to look at him. He had been crying. She reached out tentatively, wiping at the silver trails that soaked through her skin, down his stubbled jaw. She couldn't read him. Couldn't tell what was happening or what had happened -- only that it was worse than anything she had seen from him in years.

"What happened?"

At first, Diego could not speak. She could tell he was trying to force the words out but no sound came; his mouth just opened and shut.

"C'mon," she whispered gently. Making sure the door was shut, Elodie pulled him out of her kitchen and into the living room. She flipped the light switch, illuminating him in a dull glow, and watched how his pretty features sunk and bruised at the yellow touch. 

Their hands intertwined as they sat down. She clutched his to her, trying to force warmth back into the fingers. Blood soaked through her own.

"What happened, baby?"

The pet name hadn't been pulled out in years. Elodie didn't even notice she had said it.

"M-m-m..." he stopped himself and sighed. His eyes fell down to his lap. "M-m-mom."

Diego tried to speak again, but she could tell there was too much to force out and he was too overwhelmed to get the words out right. In that instant, everything from the day before had flown out the window and she found herself hugging him as he had once for her, cradling his shaking body in her arms and whispering soothingly that 'shhh, everything was okay'. 

Even if it was not.

This chapter is so gruesomely bleh at parts, but the writing is just okay enough at others that I'm letting it pass. I simply just don't have the capacity to edit this better right now, physically or mentally. I hope it's okay, but the next chapter will be better. :)

Also, ten chapters left. Zooming straight into season one's plot, now.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought.