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Breakfast

The drive to the safehouse was long, longer than it should have been, and her eyelids were growing heavy. Liam had shrugged off his wool coat and handed it to her at the start of the trip. It smelled like him, and Eddie, like home. Between that, the warmth it provided, and the drive, the fight to stay awake proved to be a lost cause. The road faded away, the car disappearing into darkness, and the sound of the radio dimmed to nothing.

Hands. Hot breath on her ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

She shot up in her seat, gasping, one hand on the dashboard and another on the door.

“You’re ok! Vanessa, you’re safe!”

A hand grabbed at her arms, pulling her back from the door handle. She shoved Barron away. Fight him.

“Ow, stop! Vanessa!”

Reality slammed back into place. She was in the car. Liam was holding an arm up to protect himself, a red spot blooming overtop of his cheekbone. The world blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

Liam dropped his protective stance and grabbed her hand. “No, don’t cry. It’s ok. I’m fine.” He smiled at her.

Her face crumpled, tears spilling over, and she ducked her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, stop,” he said, bumping her with his elbow. “You were bound to clock one of us eventually, though if I’m being honest, I was sure it’d be Eddie.”

She gasped a laugh, wiping her face with a cuff of the dress shirt. Her fingers shook with the aftershocks of the adrenaline. “I think he got enough of that when we were kids.”

Liam shook with his own laughter. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

She sniffed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Where are we going? Shouldn’t we have reached the safehouse by now?”

“Astute powers of observation you have, Operator.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, muscles tensing as her heart jumped in her chest. “It’s not funny.”

Liam was quiet for a few seconds before he responded. “You’re right,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She sat up. “I didn’t mean to… It’s fine.” Her head fell back against the seat and she sighed. “So, where are we going?”

“Not going,” he said, slowing the car and turning onto a narrow street. “Arriving.”

They were on a short residential street with red brick buildings, each connected to the next. It was an old neighborhood, but not as derelict as where their headquarters had been located.

Liam pulled the car to the curb and switched it off. “Come on, they’ll be excited to see you.”

“Who?”

He didn’t answer her, instead opening his door and stepping out of the car. She followed him. He climbed a set of skinny steps in front of one of the buildings and rang the bell.

The street was empty except for them, but she stood as close to him as possible on the small stoop anyway. “Liam, where are we?”

He smiled at her. “Baltimore.”

Any further questions of hers were cut off as the shiny black door in front of them opened. Eddie looked up at her from his chair. She stared back. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again.

He smirked. “Going to stand there all day?”

She rushed in, dropping to wrap her arms around him.

Liam closed the door behind her.

“Oh, wow. You’re going to break my ribs.” Eddie’s voice was tight, and he let out a breath when she released her hold on him.

She stood, his hand in hers, and looked around. The front hall consisted of black-painted panels, dark stairs against one wall that went up from the door, and a small hall beside them that led further into the first floor. “I don’t remember you telling me about this place.”

“That’s because I didn’t.” Eddie dropped her hand, pushing his chair down the skinny hall. His knuckles nearly scraped against the walls, the hall too skinny to properly accommodate a wheelchair. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

He pushed open a swinging door that was opposite a bathroom under the stairs, and wheeled his chair into what she assumed would be a kitchen. She followed him in, and stopped. Liam’s hands landed on her shoulders to steady her as he bumped into her back. The room swelled and shrank with her lungs, a ringing in her ears. A woman was cooking at the stovetop, her back to them, but Vanessa would recognize that graying blonde hair anywhere.

“Mrs. Ross?”

She was crazy, driven insane by this world. Was this real? Was last night? Maybe it was her body laying in the kitchen of the guest house, killed by Barron for daring to try to poison him. The woman turned around, pan in hand.

“I’m glad to see you got out from under that atrocious excuse for a man.” Mrs. Ross smiled.

“Wha—”

Liam caught her as her knees gave out.

“Ok,” he said, helping her walk to a set of barstools that were sitting in front of the counter. “Here, sit before you hurt yourself. Eddie, grab the first aid kit.”

Liam grabbed a chair that was against one wall and sat in front of her, while the other man disappeared into the hall. Helping her out of the coat, he draped it over the back of the chair before. Eddie returned with a red bag balanced on his lap, stopping his chair next to Liam’s.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, breath scarce as she looked from the woman, who was sliding eggs onto a plate, to the boys. Her chest was tingling. “I don’t understand.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, “that’s my fault. I needed your reaction to be genuine when Margaret here bit the big one, and I couldn’t very well tell her about you in case she was secretly playing us.”

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Ross said, “as if anyone could be more conspiratory than you.” She smiled at Eddie, who grinned in return.

Her confusion only grew. “But I saw your body. You were dead for hours.”

“Hmm,” the older woman tilted her head to the side. “It felt more like a nice nap to me.” She turned back to her cooking, cracking two more eggs into the frying pan.

“Eddie, what the fuck? What the fuck!”

He had the good grace to look ashamed as she glared at him.

“The paramedics at the dinner were ours. They administered a paralytic.”

The image of a syringe of medication being pushed through an IV line flashed in her mind. She shook her head. “But the hospital, they would have noticed that she wasn’t dead.”

Eddie grimaced at her, and she answered her own unasked question.

“The doctor was ours too.” Her thoughts spun circles in her head as she tried to understand how they could have pulled this off. “Just… no. How many people are in the Collective?”

The boys laughed.

“I can’t tell you,” Eddie said with a grin.

“Oh god, I hate you,” she said, followed by a hiss through her teeth as Liam unwrapped the washcloth from her hand. It had long since lost its moisture, sticking to her damaged skin.

“Sorry,” he whispered, stilling his movements to glance up at her before continuing to peel it away. Once her hand was free of it, he covered a gauze square in disinfectant and wiped away any fibers the towel had left behind.

She half stood, the pain of the alcohol on par with whatever chemical had caused the burn.

Eddie grabbed her other hand, squeezing it to distract her. “Come on,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles as Liam dabbed at her chemical burns with a new dry square. “You faced Wilkins yesterday. Compared to that, this is nothing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she whined.

Liam rolled up the sleeve of the dress shirt she wore and froze.

Eddie did a double take as he noticed Liam’s stillness, following the man’s gaze. Past the edges of the burn, her wrist was encircled in a dark bruise. Slipping a finger beneath the cuff of her shirt where he still held her hand in his, Eddie lifted it to reveal an identical bruise on the other wrist.

She pretended not to notice their actions, or the look they directed at each other, instead watching Mrs. Ross as she bustled around the kitchen. The older woman was done with her cooking, now passing them by to set plates full of food on a table that occupied the opposite side of the room.

Liam covered her hand in a cooling ointment, wrapping a bandage from her fingers to her wrist, and tucking the tail to secure it in place. He unrolled the sleeve of the shirt again, covering the evidence of her assault.

“If you three are finished, your food is getting cold.” Mrs. Ross stood next to the table, looking at them with raised eyebrows, every bit the stately woman she had been the last time Vanessa had seen her.

Eddie spun his wheelchair around as she and Liam stood. He took the side of the table that was empty. She, Liam, and Mrs. Ross took the other sides, where three chairs were waiting. Plates loaded with potatoes, eggs, and toast sat in front of each of them.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” Vanessa said, only realizing how rude the statement was after she had said it. Her face heated as she looked at the woman. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“It’s quite alright,” Mrs. Ross laughed. “Truthfully, it’s been well over a decade since I’ve had to cook my own meals, but it’s like riding a bike.”

“Yeah,” Eddie added with a mouthful of food, “and she only almost burnt the house down twice.”

Vanessa pressed her lips together, and Liam hit the blonde on the shoulder.

“I’ll have you know,” Mrs Ross pointed her fork at Eddie, “that I used to work at a restaurant once upon a time.”

“Really? You were a chef?” Eddie asked.

“No,” she stretched the word out and made an annoyed face. “I was the hostess.”

“I can’t imagine that,” Vanessa laughed.

“Well,” Mrs. Ross sniffed, “you’re young. The world was very different back then.”

The conversation died. For several minutes, the only noise in the room was the ceramic scraping of the silverware against the porcelain plates.

“Did he care?”

Vanessa looked up from her plate. Mrs. Ross was staring at her, and all sounds of eating had stopped. She cleared her throat. “More than he expected to.”

“Hm.” She looked surprised at the idea of her husband caring enough about her enough to mourn her death. “Well, maybe if he had shown me some of that care sooner.”

Vanessa nodded. The others went back to eating while she pushed her food around with her fork. She had only taken two bites, her stomach cramping as soon the food had entered it. A piece of the bandage on her hand was sticking up. She picked at it with her thumb. The ointment Liam lathered on must have numbed her skin. She was able to press down on the white cotton without an increase in the burning she had been feeling all morning, since…

“Vanessa?”

She broke out of the fog her mind was lost in, inhaling deeply, and looked up to see who had said her name. Eddie was staring at her with worry.

“Are you ok?”

She wanted to say yes, a little white lie to ease his worries, but she couldn’t force the word past her lips. “No.”

His expression only grew more worried at her answer, and he reached out to take her hand. She moved it to her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she saw the hurt bloom in his eyes.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you marry him.”

“No, Eddie…”

His eyes were red. “I should have got you out before the wedding, even if you would’ve hated me.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have hated you, that was just something I said. It wouldn’t have mattered though, Eddie. Even if you had sent someone, I wouldn’t have gone with them. I would have married him anyway.”

He leaned forward. “Why?”

“Eddie,” Liam admonished, but the blonde was stubborn as usual.

“Please tell me,” he begged.

She looked at Eddie and Liam in turn, her family. She couldn’t tell them, not without them blaming themselves more than they already did. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his, giving him a smile. “Maybe, one day.”

Mrs. Ross didn’t give him a chance to respond, standing up and pointing at the men. “That’s enough of this dreary discussion. You two are on clean up duty.”

Eddie hung his head, rubbing his eyes.

Liam leaned against his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, she punched me right in the face on the way over.”

The blonde snorted. His eyes were still red when he lifted his head, but he was smiling. “Did you really?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Oh no,” Liam said, rubbing his cheek, “I think she was holding that one in for a while. We may have to get a dentist in the collective next in case she wants to knock anyone else’s teeth out.”

“Stop it,” Mrs Ross admonished, slapping Liam’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Come, dear, I’ll show you your room.”

That didn’t make sense to her. “My room?”

“We set one up for you,” Eddie said, rolling back from the table.

Liam grabbed the handles of his chair, leaning down with his cheek against Eddie’s. “Just in case.”

“Oh,” she said as they passed her by on the way to the sink. She stood from her chair and followed Mrs. Ross from the kitchen.

The older woman led her back down the hall, up two flights of stairs, and into one of the two bedrooms on the third floor. There was a bed, a dresser, and a small desk. It reminded her of her apartment, but she supposed she would never see that place again. She stopped next to the bed, her back to Mrs. Ross as she played with the trimming on the blanket. Thoughts flashed by too fast to grasp onto. “They expected me to fail.”

“No,” Mrs. Ross said, her hands guiding Vanessa to sit on the bed.

“Why else would they make up a room for me? They knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not even for a day.”

“No, dear.” A warm arm came around her back as Mrs. Ross sat beside her. “Those boys would never think something so low. You’d think the sun shines out of your ass with how they worship you.”

She laughed at the crude phrase from the usually refined woman, swiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “They’re just too polite to say it.”

“They didn’t think you would fail,” Mrs. Ross reiterated, combing her fingers through the hair at Vanessa’s temple.

She closed her eyes.

“They knew you would be strong enough to find your way back to them.”

—End—

The Iris Collective - Chapter 39

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