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green-fifteen · 4 months

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Day 3: bandits, revenge, and mulberry jam

Prompt: Entertain Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Word count: 3,979 Summary: On the long road to Erebor, Bilbo and Thorin must keep their nephew entertained. (Reshirement AU) read on AO3 instead

for @fluffyfebruary

"Did I ever tell you my favorite story about your uncle?" Bilbo asked mildly as they bumped along the road to Erebor. They were on the open road again, finally clear of the murk and damp of Thranduil's woods. They weren't far from the mountain, now--they could turn their faces to see it whenever they wished--but the trip through the wood had not been kind to young Frodo, and it had lasted too long.

As if by some awful magic, Thorin grew ill just after they reached the Eastern boundary of the forest. No sooner had they stepped upon the Old Forest Road than he'd begun to sway on his feet as he walked and his slumber had been more and more difficult to chase from him in the mornings. Unlike the last time Bilbo was taken to the mountain, this time they traveled by cart--it was an easy matter to leave him on it to recover and let the ponies bear him hence. Still, this delayed their party by a number of days, for there was room enough atop the cart for Thorin to lie out, his head cushioned upon a sack of flour, only if Bilbo and Frodo walked along beside the wheels. At this slower pace, the three of them spent longer in the darkness than Bilbo would have preferred.

And now it was clear that Frodo had not been unaffected by their time in the Mirkwood. Even as Thorin recovered his health, sitting up and taking tea and cram at mealtimes, the little hobbit yet looked as pale and drawn as ever. Bilbo thought he might be coming out of his funk, but it was not happening very quickly. He had noticed the boy looking around himself with his usual awe the day before, as they cleared the cover of trees and darkness and saw the pink light of a sunrise before them. It had been beautiful, after so long in the woods--Bilbo was not ashamed to be brought to tears. His husband had handed him a handkerchief. Frodo also smiled just that morning, when Thorin nearly toppled from his seat in the cart after the ponies led them over a low boulder. He'd made such an outraged expression that the Bagginses in front of him could not be blamed for laughing.

Excepting these brief moments, Frodo had traveled the road from the Mirkwood to Dale in silent contemplation, something his guardians were unaccustomed to. Their charge was still young and viewed each new day with curious eyes. Meaning, they routinely answered excited questions about all manner of things, which numbered so greatly once they'd left the Shire that Bilbo and Thorin had begun a habit of turn-taking, signalling with a glance when one or the other of them should like to give up the responsibility. They'd been exchanging looks of a different sort since the forest, heavy with worry and care for their young nephew. It was Bilbo who broke the silence first, determined to lift Frodo at least a moment from his far-away mood.

"It's a good one, I promise," he continued. Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, but Bilbo did not mind him, his eyes fixed on the smaller hobbit.

"It was quite the adventure-- bandits, revenge, mulberry jam. And your own dear mother was there." Frodo tilted his head to the side. Choosing to take this as encouragement, Bilbo went on.

"It was before you were born, mind. Before the lass had even thought of marrying, I'd wager. Yes, this was a fair few years ago, when your uncle had first come to me, complaining about his sad old hill."

"The Lonely Mountain," Thorin grumbled. Frodo's mouth twitched up as it always did when they had this argument. It was an old one.

"Well, what's the difference? Lonely or sad, hill or mountain?" Bilbo affected a pompous academic air. "I think you'll find that a mountain is nothing more than a very large hill. Hobbits know about hills, you are aware."

Thorin leaned in. "And dwarves know their mountains, Master Hobbit."

The old hobbit tutted and wagged a finger. "Be that as it may, Master Oakenshield, there is a tale to be told. I'll not let you distract young Frodo."

At this, he leveled the young hobbit with a serious look. "However much I wish to tell this story, I must warn you: your uncle may come off a fool in the recounting. Do you still wish to hear it, knowing it may forever change your view of the dwarf who raised you?"

Frodo seemed to perk, humor finding him at last after days of malaise. Thorin huffed a laugh which he disguised with an annoyed look. The boy's response was all too predictable. "Well, I wouldn't want to embarrass him. But I respect your wish to tell me, and can have no objections." He was fighting a smile, matching his hobbit uncle's expression feature to feature.

"At least allow me the dignity to interject here and there, Bilbo. Your love of drama can at times surpass your regard for the truth, especially when you are telling this story," Thorin insisted. Bilbo nodded graciously, and then began.

"After the business with the dragon, your uncle wanted to return to the Shire and live with me. He had to stay in his kingdom for a while yet, as he was the king. But you know this already. What is really interesting is what happened the first time he came back to the Shire after he'd been settled with me for some time.

He was visiting friends and family in Erebor and he'd been gone nearly a year. I missed him terribly. Counting the days, nearly ready to hop onto a pony and fetch him back. This was Halimath, so I was growing worried that I would not see him again until the spring. The chill of those solitary mornings, looking out to my frosted tomato plants, was colder even than the bite of the icy wind."

"I was gone all of summer and into mid-autumn. I was home before the plows had even left the fields." Thorin's voice was dry as he interrupted.

"Yes, well, the sentiment remains. I was desperate to have you home again. Nothing was the same now that I'd known what it was to have you with me. The food I cooked never tasted as rich, the sun never came out as far. I think that was the grayest summer we've yet seen in Hobbiton."

"You never remember to open the curtains."

"Do you know what your dear uncle was doing, while I pined away to nothing for the want of him? In those last few days as I cried myself to sleep alone in our bed?"

Frodo's eyes were wide by now, taken in by his uncles lovelorn expression. "What was he doing?"

"He was losing a fight to Esmeralda Took in Buckland, that's what." Despite his tone, Bilbo was unable to resist smiling at his husband.

"Merry's mum?!" Frodo cried, nearly unseating himself as he fell backward. "Why were you fighting with Merry's mum?" He was looking at Thorin too now, mouth wide and eyes bright.

The dwarf shook his head. "She was nobody's mum, then, pebble. She was younger than you are now and likely to bite somebody's ear off if she wasn't minded close enough. A wild thing."

"Yes and, as it happens, Primula Brandybuck was charged with the minding."

"My mum!"

"Yes, the very same. But, you see, she had the misfortune of minding the entire lot of visiting Took children. Can you imagine it? The yelling and hair-tugging that went on? How was she supposed to keep track of each child that day? There were at least forty of them!"

Frodo made a face. "Uncle Bilbo, that can't be right. I don't even have forty cousins."

"I'm sure you do, don't forget you are a Took, a Baggins, and a Brandybuck. Anyway, it's about the sentiment, my dear boy. Do not let the facts distract you." Thorin looked at him askance.

"As one might predict, Esmeralda and a band of her roughest cousins slipped free of their handler. They roved north along the road to look for mischief and spied a traveler not very far from Brandybuck Hall. He was riding a pony and wore shoes on his feet, like a man. Something about this man told the children they had met their mischief at last. Everyone save Esmeralda hid in the Hedge, while she stopped him to tell him her sad story. What was it again, dear?"

"I'm dreadfully lost, won't you please help me get home?" Frodo smiled to hear him recite her words in his gruff and unimpressed manner.

"But, Uncle Thorin," he said after a moment. "What were you doing on the road to Buckland? You should have been on the main road toward Hobbiton."

"Oh, remarkably well timed, my boy. Go ahead and ask him what he replied."

"What did you say?"

Thorin gave his husband a withering glance. "I said, 'What a pair we make. I too am lost along this path.' I was trying to calm the poor girl. You did not hear the way she was wailing."

"Telling her you do not know the way may not have been the most reassuring course of action, had she really been so upset" Bilbo countered with a laugh.

"But what happened next, Uncle?" Frodo urged.

"Yes. Well, the young hobbit girl used her pathetic story to compel him out of the saddle, which allowed the other children their opportunity to strike."

"They struck him?"

"No, no. They robbed him! Untied his saddlebag like they'd done it a hundred times and went running on down the path toward Brandy Hall. Esmeralda showed him her tongue, and then flew away, too."

"Robbed him?! The bandits!" Frodo fell forward laughing. "Uncle Bilbo, I did not think you meant hobbit children! Did you retrieve your bag, Uncle Thorin? Bilbo mentioned revenge, too."

Thorin's face was soft and fond. "I gave chase to the beasts until I realized at last there was no hope. Although they were small, their legs moved faster than I could believe. Worse, they threw the bag to and fro among themselves, that I never knew which child possessed it."

"A classic game of keep-away," Bilbo agreed. "It was a hilarious success for the Took children in Buckland that day, who returned to Brandy Hall to stash their treasure. Thorin arrived not long after they'd disappeared back into the hall."

"Like rabbits in a warren," his husband grumbled.

"Yes, dear. They had utterly vanished by the time he came upon the hill. Your uncle had no choice but to knock on the front door, dripping in sweat, wearing his dirty traveling clothes and a great big scary sword. You can imagine how much he frightened them, but the Brandybucks were never the type to be terrified, especially in their own home. After they invited him inside, my cousin Gorbadoc eventually recognized him as my husband and took him by the arm to the dining room. To make him feel welcome (and Brandybucks are very much a welcoming group!) he sent in Primula with one of the children."

"Not Esmeralda!"

"Yes, your cousin Esmeralda came through the door and when she saw your uncle, her eyes went round."

"As the saucers on the table." Thorin chuckled.

"What did you do?" Frodo asked.

Bilbo answered. "He did nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing as course and affronting as accusing a Took girl of tomfoolery." The hobbits shared a moment of humor. "No, instead he allowed Esmeralda and Primula to bring him courses of fine food. They brought him sweet cakes and rich loaves of buttered bread. He ate fish and game and piles of seasoned potatoes. At the end, when they asked if he'd like a dessert, he looked at Esmeralda Took, who was almost certainly trying very hard to avoid drawing notice from the dwarf, and told her he'd like something special--the best thing they had in the house. Primula at once urged the girl to the pantry.

She returned with the finest Buckland jam you've ever eaten. Sweet and dark and without a single seed. It tastes like climbing a mulberry tree in Wedmath. Served warm on a crumpet with butter, it is more than a taste--it is a sensation."

Thorin sniffed. "I liked it fine."

"And although he liked it, your uncle ate only one bite of his crumpet, before setting it down again. 'This isn't what I'm looking for,' he told the girl. She and Primula hurried back to the pantry to find something else. They came back to the dining room with a nut pie."

Frodo groaned. "Oh, Uncle. I'm too hungry for talk of the food in Buckland." And Bilbo could see that he meant it. An uncomfortable-looking line was forming between his eyebrows.

"Never mind the pie. Never mind the next three dishes they brought out to please him. Know only that they tried five times to find what the dwarf was craving and five times he was not satisfied. When he refused the fifth plate, Primula finally spoke her mind. You can imagine how she esteemed your uncle by then."

"What names did she call you, Uncle Thorin?" Frodo asked between happy giggles.

"The kind that are best not repeated," he replied gravely.

"When he responded, he looked not at Primula, but at her young charge. He said, 'You know well that what I am looking for cannot be found in the larder or the pantry, although I am sure they are very well stocked with the finest ingredients. (By this time, he was aware enough of hobbit customs to know what an insult he gave and he did very well to try and soften it.) He pressed on.

'I believe you know what I'd like to find, little hobbit. Do you disagree?' he said to her. Now the searching eye of Primula Brandybuck was on Esmeralda Took, which is a frightful feeling for a person of any age or race." Frodo nodded in agreement. He could remember well enough. "It is no wonder the bandit Esmeralda gave up the act, then and there. She did try to run, but your mother had captured her arm before she even took a step. After some questioning-"

"And yet more of her false tears," Thorin added.

"-Esmeralda led Primula to the treasure. Your uncle did not follow. Why did you stay in the dining room, my love?"

"So that she might walk there and back to me. I will not waste energy in rushing to reclaim that which has been stolen, if I may instead let the thief bear its weight back to me." Frodo looked appropriately awed by this pronouncement, but Bilbo only cleared his throat.

"And the real reason, dear?"

After a moment, Thorin admitted, "There may have been a.. strategic aspect to my reasoning. For Brandy Hall is very large and I knew already that Esmeralda Took could run much faster than I. If she had outmaneuvered me again, in that tangled den of tunnels--"

"You did not want to get lost," Bilbo said, in summary. His nephew was grinning with delight, as he always was when they teased his dwarven uncle in this fashion.

"It is a fair concern," he insisted. "After all, Uncle Thorin can get lost on a straight road like the one from Bree to Hobbiton. What should happen to him in a place like Brandy Hall?"

"Precisely!" Thorin said, and then narrowed his eyes at Frodo. "That is to say--I should be at a disadvantage, in one of your great hobbit halls. Your people seem to have an affinity for dirt and digging holes, like moles. Or badgers."

Bilbo sniffed and turned his body away from Thorin. "Because Esmeralda Took had been to Brandy Hall many times since she was born, and not at all because she had the characteristics of any rodent, as some might claim, she was back again in very little time, your uncle's saddlebag in her hands.

Primula of course had shaken the entire story from her on the way and her shouting had even compelled a few of her relatives to tag along behind them. So it was that Thorin had his revenge on young Esmeralda--forced to trudge through the corridors, the criminal bearing evidence of her crime before her cousins, brought to trial in the only way a child can be."

He turned back to his husband and gazed at him admiringly. "He did not know it, of course, but it was just the kind of scheme that any Took or Brandybuck worth the name might enjoy. So after they fed him spirits and kept him laughing long into the night, they convinced him to stay another day. They had not heard enough about the brigands he'd faced on the road, they claimed. He must stay at least until lunchtime. What was the hurry? Indeed, he had nowhere urgent to be. His husband could wait another day. He had waited so long already and he did not have to know about the delay."

Thorin broke in. "They convinced me of nothing. Your strong hobbit ale convinced me to stay when I woke in my own grave the next morning."

"Your weakness in this regard is a fault I am still working to accept," Bilbo said, sighing. To this, his husband wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him in to whisper something in his pointed ear. Frodo could not hear what was said, so he did not know why his uncle blushed so deeply.* After coughing once or twice to clear his throat, the hobbit simply straightened and continued his story.

"And so your uncle dithered there in Buckland, while I thought of nothing else but seeing him come down the lane to Bag End. When he eventually showed his face, of course I asked him about the delay, for in his last letter to me, he said he would arrive before Trewsday and that day was Mersday.

'There was no delay,' he told me. 'I must have been mistaken when I counted the days before.' And then something about how the hobbit way of keeping the days is too confusing, I'm sure. In any case, I believed him. I had my suspicions, of course, but they weren't important. My husband had returned to me. The sun was shining on the hills. The fish I stewed that evening was the best I had ever eaten."

"So how did you find out about Emseralda?" Frodo asked.

"It came in a letter, from reliable old Gorbadoc. See, while your uncle was out of the smial a few days later, the post came for him--a message from Buckland. I was curious. And, you know, I'm a Took too, on my mother's side. It is in my nature to open intriguing envelopes, and who can fight their very nature? That evening, Thorin arrived at Bag End to find me reading over the letter for what may have been the hundredth time."

"I was only gone an hour."

"It was a short note. It was a simple benediction from my cousin and a brief line from the bandit herself. Do you remember the wording?" Bilbo asked the dwarf.

"Not as well as you do, I'm sure,"

"Yes, I did read it rather a lot. I still keep it in the study. I can show it to you sometime when we're home again. Just remember to ask, because it is totally out of sight--hidden from your uncle just the way Esmeralda hid his saddle bag! I often forget it's there."

"But what did the letter say, Uncle Bilbo?"

"Oh yes. It said, 'Dearest Cousin Thorin, After the to-do here at Brandy Hall yesterday, I am writing to inquire after your health and safety. I will admit to some concern, now that you have left us, that you may not find the way to Bag End on your own. When you fell from your horse today, I was truly worried I may need to call upon my cousin to fetch you himself. Simply remember this and you shall be home by tomorrow evening and, what's more, with all of your belongings!: Stay your pony upon the wide road to Hobbiton. Follow signs to Hobbiton. Do not stymie your own progress along any more side roads. Be assured--you shall be safe from little bandits if you do. Your friend and cousin, Gorbadoc Brandybuck'"

"And what did Esmeralda write?"

"She wrote, in the clumsy hand of a child: 'Please forgive me, Master Dwarf. If I didn't do it you would still be lost in Buckland. --Esmeralda Took. p.s. Please don't tell Master Bilbo about it, he is my favorite cousin.'"

The hobbit grinned as he finished his tale, looking from his husband to his nephew. "And then the truth was out, Frodo. He told me the story as you've heard it today."

"Not exactly as you heard it today."

"Close enough, I'd say. And all that really matters is that our dear nephew found it inspiring."

"Oh? Is Frodo inspired by tales of my misfortune?" he asked drily.

"When they're funny," Frodo said, covering his mouth with his hand. "You have to admit, Uncle Thorin--it is fun to imagine you chasing after little hobbits. And my mum!" He giggled anew. "She must have been so cross with you!"

Thorin smiled and reached to pull the young hobbit into his side. "She was, pebble. Your ears would have bled."

"I think I would have liked to see it," he said. "Imagine if my mother were here. She could tell us what they thought in Buckland after you left, and everything that happened with the rowdy Took cousins." After saying this, the boy went quiet for a long time, his smile dimming to a thoughtful twist.

"I am sorry I've been… distracted since the Mirkwood," he said at last, his voice low. Thorin squeezed his nephew tight against him. "I was only thinking… I have lost my parents once already."

"Oh," said Bilbo, scooting around to sit on Frodo's other side. "Did it scare you, when Thorin fell ill? It was scary for me too."

He nodded and cast his eyes to the straw at the bottom of the cart. "I could not help but think of the worst while we traveled in the dark. It got better when we left the woods, but I can still feel the weight of those thoughts even now."

"It is always that way, when one enters the Mirkwood," Thorin assured him. "It steals all the light from your mind, leaving your thoughts in darkness. I do not wonder that you feel ill at ease." Bilbo hummed in agreement.

"And if it will help you dispel the gloom--you must know that our dangerous days are over, nephew. Your uncle and I have faced a dragon once already, we are due our share of peace and safety."

"What about bandits?" Frodo said, his lips drawn up to one side.

"Oh, don't waste your time worrying about bandits. Haven't I told you how your uncle deals with that kind? We are perfectly safe there." He smiled back at him. "No, my boy, I think that he and I will be with you for a long time. You shall see."

Frodo still looked far too contemplative when he answered, but his smile was genuine. "I think so too, Uncle Bilbo."

*[Thorin whispered to Bilbo: "Strange. You seemed to accept this fault of mine with pleasure on the evening of my name-day." Basically: "Is that so? It seemed like you accepted it when you got me drunk on my birthday and couldn't keep your hands to yourself." ]

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beginagainbook · 7 days

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Chapter 8

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Sitting in the bars captivating glow was a new experience for Alex. She was used to the dampening sounds of drug addicts next to her. All of them fiending for their next fix, her included. The rooms would be dark and damp, offering little comfort to the people around. This was different, however.

The bar was warm in a way that was very settling for the outfit she was wearing. It lit an orange tint over all the patrons resting there, partaking in what little small talk they did. She felt at peace with her life for the first time in quite a long time.

She was sat with Everette across from her who was nursing a whiskey cocktail to his lips. The conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the room, but these two were silently watching each other. Sight reading whatever emotions they could gleam from each other.

Alex sat sipping her own drink, a glass of rose pinot, the alcohol taste making her cringe each time she went back for another taste. She never did like the flavor of alcohol, instead favoring the effects it had on her body.

"So, the play?" He finally spoke. "How is that going?"

He sounded a bit incredulous. Alex swirled the wine around in her glass. "It's going well. We're performing it next week. It'd be really cool if you came"

Everette rolled his eyes a bit before a smile spread onto his face. "Of course I'm coming. I may not like theatre but I'm always going to support you"

This earned a grin from Alex's mouth. "It's gonna be awesome. We've worked so hard to pull this piece together. We're doing Spring Awakening but the director has drastically changed everything, so if you think you know what it's going to look like already, you actually don't. I think it's really cool, but the other cast mates hate it."

"You like it though?"

Alex's face brightened. "Yes! I love ballet. It's such an expressive art form. I've always wanted to be apart of a professional ballet production and now I am. The others are so used to doing ballet so it's not special for them the way it's special for me. It's like a little secret I get to hold to myself"

Everette took another drink of his whiskey, masking the dislike in his choice of drink. It tasted like a burning wood-y sensation as it went down his throat. Whiskey isn't meant to taste like wood, he thought. "That's really cool, Andie. Hey, listen. About those photos..."

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes focused on the man in front of her. "Right now?"

"Better than when we're shit faced"

Alex cringed a bit at his tern of phrase, but he was correct. Better now than later. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

He quickly finessed his phone out of his pocket before sliding over to the camera option. Alex put her arm around his shoulder and smiled. "Why don't you kiss my cheek?" He added.

"Oh. Alright"

She placed a kiss on his cheek and watched as he snapped a couple of photos. The situation was very odd to her. It felt like taking a photo with a fan, not taking a photo with her boyfriend. Were they even dating at this point?

"Everette?" Her voice rang out as hollow, lacking any confidence she previously had. "Yeah?"

"Would you say we're dating?"

He turned to face her front on and took his hands in hers. "We're whatever you want us to be, baby." His hands were warm in hers, almost sweaty, and she noticed that they were much larger than hers. "I could be your girlfriend" she added, not making eye contact.

It wasn't that she didn't mean it. She WOULD like to be his girlfriend, but she couldn't help fighting this funny feeling like there was something she was missing. Like she herself was an incomplete picture, painted only in black and white, just waiting for somebody to come along and splash paint onto the canvas that was her life.

Maybe Everette would be her paint.

"That would be nice. We need to talk more, though. I don't like being out of contact. It's like long distance dating and I was never good at that. You can't form a connection that way"

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. She'd made many great friends through online forums, and she felt like he was trying to contest this. "You haven't met anybody online you can connect with?" She added

"No. Not really. I know you have. It's not the same, though. Not for me. For me, It's like building up walls around a relationship that box you in, and you're limited to a key set of interactions. It's like a game."

A game. Was that how he viewed their relationship thus far? As some sort of a game he could win? Was this all some sort of a game to him? That's what it was starting to feel like for Alex at this point. The pictures, the limited interactions, the text-to-call dialogues. All of it felt like.. a joke.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know about me?" Alex eventually blurted out, suddenly switching the topic. "What?" Everette asked back, true confusion in his eyes.

"You keep talking about things I've said or things I've done, and nobody around here" she gestured to the bar they were in, indicating she meant the hotel, "will tell me. Why don't you just tell me what you know about me? It would make things so much easier." When she ended her sentence, she picked up her glass of wine and finished it.

Everette eventually nodded, picking up his own glass and taking a drink. "Well, you and I make music together. You stopped doing theatre because of how it limited you in the sphere of creation. You could perform all you wanted, but people never showed up to the things you created. So you stopped creating and started in a different field. Music."

He took another drink out of his cup as Alex listened fervently. "You and I were trying to find a way to mix the two. You didn't want to do a tour but you did want to keep performing. We figured we could host pop up venues around the city and start enough hype to go to other cities and do the same thing. It would've been like the Survive tour, but just us."

Alex frowned. She didn't remember what happened after the Survive event. It was the one memory that stood clear in her head once. The one memory she could grasp onto, hoping it would lead her way back to all of the others. "What do you mean the Survive tour?" She asked.

"You were going to keep performing after the Survive event. Going around the city and doing the same thing I just said, the pop up shows."

The thought hit her suddenly. THAT'S why they were breaking into the hotel. The hotel had multiple theatre's connected to it, and it only made sense that they were trying to find a way in to host their own event behind Oliver's back. "So, the night I fell..."

Everette nodded quickly, like he didn't want to continue the conversation anymore. "Yeah."

"Alright then."

Logically, it all made sense now. Alex was living with Everette and furthering her career. She was trying to plan events and she was blacklisted. Oliver hated her, and the only person she could rely on was Everette. She stopped for a moment to think about the rumors of fighting.

"What about--"

"Listen. It's been a really long day. I don't think I want to keep talking about this." He sighed and finished off his whiskey, finally grimacing at the flavor. "Bartender?" he called out, pointing towards both of their glasses. "Actually, I think that's probably enough for tonight" Alex said, raising her hand and smiling towards the bartender. He smiled in return, walking off.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You brought it, right?"

Everette was taken off guard for a moment. "Yeah. What does that have to do with my drinks?"

Alex shook her head in amusement, a smile growing on her face as she did so. "I've got a mini bar in my fridge in my room. Let's go up there."

Everette met her eyes, a smile forming on his face as well.

* * *

Sitting in her room in the evening glow was quite nice. It reminded her of all the times she had talked with Oliver, except this time, it was different. "So, where'd you put the stuff?" Alex spoke out as she watch Everette grab a beer from her mini-fridge. "It's in my satchel. I put it on the couch."

Alex leaned herself back to get momentum on the bed and kicked herself up. She walked over towards his bag and reached in. "I didn't even see you bring this." She said.

"It blends in. I wear all black. Do you need help with that?"

"No. I remember how to inject."

Alex went about her process. She pulled the vials out of the satchel along with the needles. "Give me your belt" She spoke out, wiggling her fingers in a 'Gimme' motion. "How do you even know I'm wearing one?"

"You're wearing a button up shirt with slacks. If you weren't wearing a belt, I'd shame you."

The sound of his belt buckle being undone was all that could be heard throughout the room. the 'zwip' sound of it being unsheathed from his belt loops was the next thing she heard, along with his voice going "Here"

"Do you want any?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. She liked having gab sessions. Spending time with her boyfriend might be nice. "No." He responded. Her heart fell a little bit at this. She couldn't quite place why.

"I'm going to do this out on the balcony. You keep watch." She responded, taking all her items with her. She walked out and shut the door slightly behind her, leaving open ajar. It was a see through door, but it was the distance that made her feel better about it.

The air was getting warmer each week and yet the air this time threatened to nip at what bare skin she had revealing through her outfit. She repositioned her clothes as she sat down on the couch. She quickly tossed her jacket off, offering the wind even more of her body to blast away at.

She looped the belt around the underside of her lower brachial artery and squeezed it tight under her arm. She felt it begin to go numb, so she looped the belt shut and wrapped the dangle-y bit around the inside of her arm.

She grabbed for the needle and vial, tipping the vial upside-down as she drew out the medication. 'Medication' She bit back to herself in spite. She set the needle down for a moment and looked back towards the door.

From where she was sitting, she could see Everette sitting on her couch watching TV, drinking a beer. It was a far contrast to all of the conversations she'd sat here having with Oliver. A big piece of her yearned for Everette to come outside and sit with her. Talk to her. About anything, at this point.

But she had told him to keep watch. She turned back around to face the needle in front of her. She looked at her arm, turning a bright shade of red. She slapped at her cubital fossa, looking for a good vein. She picked the needle back up and she injected the Morphine into her system.

The feeling of the needle in her skin was pinching tight, but she had become used to this feeling at this point. She welcomed it. She put pressure on the insertion point of the needle as she pulled it out, apply pressure continuously. She set the needle down, capping it, and gathered all of her belongings again.

She walked back inside and put the stuff back in the satchel. "Are you letting me keep this?" She spoke out, the effects of the drug beginning to take effect. Her entire being down to her bones felt relaxed and heavy, like lead weights had entered her system instead of Morphine.

"Yeah, if you want. Just don't overdose on it, or something." He spoke out, turning to look towards Alex. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

Alex walked over to the couch and sat herself down next to him. Her arm hurt, but it wasn't bad. It felt like a pin prick at most. If she twisted wrong, it felt like a pinch. Her head was swarming with emotions. One thing she remembered liking about Morphine was the way it didn't numb her, emotionally. It took it away, sure, but she could still feel. Feel the love, feel the joy, feel the pure euphoria.

She turned to look towards Everette, who was staring at her with a weird face. This is when she realized he was leaning in for a kiss. She turned to meet him in the middle, their lips planting on each others. There was no love in the kiss. It was nothing like she remembered from any of the flings she had in her life time. It was connectionless. No spark.

He kept kissing her, though. Attempting to deepen the kiss. She continued kissing him, his lips warm and soft against her. He was so close to her that she could smell his scent, strong and reminiscent of 'Man'. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like a flame burning the inside of her stomach. Like something was wrong.

He continued to kiss on her neck, moving down near her collarbones. She just realized she left her jacket outside. She didn't want this. She was beginning to remember why she didn't want this.

"Get off of me" Alex called out, pushing him off.

"What the hell, Andie?! We were having fun"

She stood and and put distance between the two of them. "No. You were having fun. You didn't ask me how I felt about this situation. About our relationship"

He stood up too. The look in his eyes was dark and foreboding, with an essence of hate in them. "You're the one who asked me to keep dating you" He growled out, taking a step closer towards her. "You're the one who invited me up to your room. You're the one who came onto me. You asked for it"

"Excuse me?!" She shot back, closing the distance between the two. "What the hell do you think you're talking about? You're in MY room, you have no right to talk to me that--"

Slap. The back of his palm made contact with the side of her face. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled out.

She stood silently for a moment while he continued to ramble on about how he was the man in the relationship.

"Get out."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer towards him. "You can't tell me-"

She pulled her wrist away from her and pushed him away and into the couch causing his knees to buckle underneath him. "Get the hell out of my room!" She screamed.

"Now hold on--"

She walked up to him and began to pound on his chest. "Get out! Get out, Get out, Get out!" She said, each time with more conviction and force. There was no need to steady her voice. There was no need to stop and think. The morphine may have weakened her punches, but Everette got the point quickly.

He stood up and quickly hauled ass out of the room, Alex continuing her attack all the while.

"You're insane!" he screamed, swinging the door open and running down the hall. "And you're an asshole! I never want to see you again!" She screamed, slamming the door behind her.

It wasn't long before she had Oliver banging on her door, questioning her about the noise. His room wasn't located too far from hers. That was the whole point in why she was placed here. Currently, she resented it.

"What is that matter with you?!" he called out while shutting the door behind him. "It's 10 o'clock at night. There are people trying to sleep after working hard all day. What gives?!"

Alex walked over towards her mini fridge and grabbed a mini bottle of moscato. Maybe this was the way her life was destined to be. Life of revolving doors of men screaming at her. "Piss off. I'm not in the mood."

She looked around her room for her purse. She still had a couple of 'Shitty Joints' that Everette gave her before. "Can I smoke in this room? Isn't there cleaners who can clean these? Or is it different with suites."

Oliver stood there, dumbstrucken. "Are you okay?" was all he managed out.

"That didn't answer my question." She frowned.

"Yes, you can smoke in here, I guess. It's not gonna kill me. Now answer my question. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She spat the words out as if they were vinegar on her tongue that she couldn't swallow. She was a great actress, but even she didn't believe her own conviction there. She knew Oliver wouldn't but it either.

"What happened? I saw Everette running away"

She didn't want to tell him the truth. The truth was... embarrassing. She had started a relationship with another abusive asshole. What else was there to say? How else do you dish out such a heavy dish of emotional honestly without cracking under the weight of the pressure?

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it." was all she had the courage to get out. "I can't find my purse"

"The one with the shitty joints?"

Alex sighed. "Are you going to help me look or not?"

"No. I'm going to go get you better weed. I'll be right back." he turned to head for the door before Alex responded "It's going to take too long!"

He kept walking anyways. Whatever. He was out the door without another word and Alex was left to fend for her purse by herself. It figured. When were men ever useful? Besides the nice job her got her. And the nice two story suite with a whole floor she's never used. And the weed he's going to get.

She still hated men.

She looked over towards the satchel and sighed. It contained three vials of Morphine and multiple needles. She walked over to it and picked it up turning to head towards her closet.

When she made it there, her feet were exhausted. She had been on them all day, walking all around the hotel. She had likely gotten her 10k steps in for the day at this point. She'd walk around and look at all the different plants they had blooming throughout the hotel. Gazing through all the aquariums they had set up in different locations of the floors. Admiring the local art they had hung up on each wall.

She'd come to realize that the entire hotel wasn't just full of life, but was in it of itself alive. Bustling with people. Filled with culture. Each corner told a different story from a different decade, and each floor shared a different mystery of history being held behind it's walls.

It was invigorating to be able to stay there. Like somehow her head injury had been a blessing in disguise, and the universe was replacing her older, bad memories with newer, happier ones. Not counting the one that just happened with Everette.

Everything felt more... special. Maybe she was just high. She threw the satchel onto the floor of the closet near the island sitting in the middle and she rummaged through her drawers to find a pair of sweat pants she liked. She settled on a pair of gray ones. She peeled off her previous outfit and put on her pants, quickly finding a tank top to wear over top. A simple black one with a band's logo on it.

When she walked out of her closet, she bumped into Oliver, causing him to drop whatever he was holding. "Sorry!" the both of them muttered out.

"No, I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going" she quickly replied, bending down to pick up the joints he'd dropped. She handed them to him and gave him a fake smile. "Your face is red." He said, grabbing the joint.

"What? Like, I'm blushing? Humans do that you know."

"No. It looks like someone hit you."

Alex tensed up. "I don't want to talk about it." She said and quickly brushed past him to walk towards the balcony. The room really was massive. It wasn't just two-stories, but it was a full on live in suite with a kitchenette attached that she never used and an entire library full of books. There was a little reading section upstairs, and Alex knew she was going to attack those sooner or later.

"Fine, sorry, I didn't know it was related. Whatever." He said as the two of them reached the balcony, sitting down. "You were out here earlier?"

"You are SO bad at not talking about it!" she blurted out, picking up the jacket and putting it over her shoulders. "It just shocked me, is all! I'm sorry"

"It shocks you that you live in my own house?"

"It's a hotel room, and technically I own it" he said, handing her a joint. She reached to grab it and extended her arm. "What happened to your elbow?" He asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, yet instead she coyly turned her elbow to face him instead of her cubital fossa.

"I think my elbow looks fine" She said, turning it. She had her arms tucked into the inside of her shoulder to hide the proof. "I'm fine. Stop worrying, dad."

"I am not your father." he shot back, reeling at the comment bestowed upon him. "Then stop acting like a dad. You aren't my dad." The two met in eye contact, a silent air of agreement between the two. They weren't going to talk about it, and that was it.

She put the joint up to her mouth and and lit it up. The familiar taste of lemon-y pine hits across her taste buds hard, dancing and inviting her flavors to peek their heads in. Slight tastes of grass and dirt, which sounds bad, but was actually invited by Alex. It tasted fresh. Green. New. Unlike Everette's Dirt Weed.

"So, when are you going to tell me about your arm"

Alex eyed him up, looking at his stance. He looked relaxed and unguarded. Happy, she thought. "When you stop being normal and start being an addict."

he guffawed at her. "When exactly do you expect me to become an addict?!" he retorted, completely missing her confession. Maybe he got it, maybe he didn't. "I don't! That's NOT my point!"

"And what exactly is your point? Why don't you spell it out for me?"

She gritted her teeth together and gave a sideways frown. "I'm not good with confessions."

"I never was either. What if I tell you something about me, and you tell me about you. Deal?"

She thought for a moment before nodded in return, looking out at the distance of the skyscraper skyline. Stars littered the night sky and the twinkled and gleamed so bright, as if they were reaching out to Alexandria herself to thank her for seeing them. They were so beautiful.

"I love stars." She spoke out. "That's not really a confession, not a statement" she added.

"Okay. When I was in college..." he paused as he spoke and looked out towards the city as well. They mirrored each other in positioning, both staring out to the sky in the hopes that it would eat them alive if they stared long enough. Anything for release from this situation.

"My mom got really sick, and my dad was already dead. I was going through business schools at the time, but I instantly switched majors. For her. The hotel could wait with shareholders for just a few years. By the time I got back into business the hotel had so many expansions I'd never thought of. I continued growing it from there and..." He trailed off.

Alex looked down towards the floor. "What happened with your mom?"

"She died."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Maybe to honor her, she thought to herself. Partially because she didn't know what to say. There were days she wished death upon her parents, but she highly suspected their situations were different.

"I'm sorry. There are no words to describe that loss"

"I know. I put so much of it into the business, but it's a big reason why I'm so closed off from people, I think." It was a bid of emotional honestly that Alex didn't really expect from him. So raw and honestly that it felt 10 times easier to do what she needed to do. "I did morphine earlier."

It's like a band-aid. You have to rip it off all at once, or else it hurts a LOT worse in the long run. "Well, I kinda expected that. No offense. Not tonight, either, but eventually."

She pouted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everette is a really bad influence on you."

She scratched at her injection site and frowned. "I think I agree with that."

"What happened with you two, anyway?"

She sighed. Everything else felt easier to talk about, but this felt a million times worse. How was she supposed to rip THIS band-aid off? "I don't know. I still don't want to talk about it."

"I told you my mom died." He said, sort of in disbelief. "You're really not gonna tell me? It's that bad?"

She stopped and questioned it herself. Was it that bad? "Yeah, to me it is."

"Well, alright then" He said, and took another puff off of his joint. "I'm sorry" She said.

"You don't have to apologize to me. You're the one who has to live with it."

She felt guilty in the pit of her stomach. She took another drag off of her joint before standing up and walking back inside for a minute. She ignored the 'where are you going' and 'what's wrongs' as she grabbed her wine and walked back outside.

"Liquid courage." she said as she sat down. "It's been a really shitty night for me, anyways. Do you want any?"

"Of that? Hell no. That taste like ass." he laughed and crinkled his nose. "It does not! It taste like... floral-y... and grape-y... and good!" She popped the lid off of the bottle and took a drink of it, only barely cringing at the taste. "You don't even like it!"

"I do! I don't like the alcohol in it." She giggled at her own statement. "Drinking alcohol but not liking the alcohol. It's silly. I get that." She verbally thought out loud. She took another drink, cringing less and less each time she did. "Anyway."

"What happened" he finally said, exasperated this time.

"I think it's obvious. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? He came onto me. I rejected him. He hit me. I hit him. A lot. He ran away. Is it not obvious?"

Oliver shook his head looking as if he himself had been hit. She guessed it was a lot of information, after all. "Can we ban him from the hotel already or something?" Oliver said, looking for recognition in her eyes. She looked down. "I don't know... He still has a lot of information."

Oliver shook his head as his expression hardened. "No, why do you need your memories? They'll come back eventually. He's just a prick and he's not worth your time or presence. You don't have to be around him to piece your life back together.

Alex scratched at the back of her neck and reached for the bottle again. She took another swig. "And how do you suppose I'm going to get my memories back? How do you suppose I can do any of the things I want to do without Everette? My music, my career, my life, it revolves around him."

It struck her as she said it.

"That's not a good thing, Alex"

She sighed and put her head in her hands. Her Joint had gone out at this point, and she was left with a muted haze of a drunken high. Morphine, Moscato, and weed. "I know. I'm realizing this, slowly. But... It's hard."

Oliver looked down at the floor. "I know. I can't relate to you, but I understand."

Alex looked out at the city and took another drink of her wine.

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