Title: Twined & Twisted

Rating: T

Synopsis: After striking out on her own, Tara discovers that all roads lead back home.

Sup: So, I promised I would continue this storyverse and here's the next bit. This takes place right where "Warning" left off. I've been listening to a lot of Valerie June, who's amazing, so that's where the title comes from. I'm prolly gonna jack the titles from like half of her songs for each chapter since they help set the tone in my head. Also, thanks for all the comments on the last story. I think I've sent you all PMs, but if I didn't or you left me an anon review, thanks for taking the time. Raven and Mellow, double thanks to you two for all your awesome feedback and pointing out aspects of the story I didn't even think about until you mentioned it. Not much else to say, but I really hope you enjoy this and can use it to forget about whatever for a while. Feel free to let me know what you think.

Twined & Twisted

When Tara Thornton arrived in the United States for the first time in nearly two decades, her return felt far from triumphant. She was as emotionally spent as she was broke. The initial swell of adrenaline that swept her across the Atlantic had quickly subsided. What remained in its wake was a thick and inescapable residue of doubt that left her questioning herself nearly every minute of the twelve hour flight from London.

Leaving life with her maker behind to focus on the wellbeing of the child she'd come to claim as her own was the right choice in theory. In practice, leaving was as risky a move as staying. And for Nola it was nothing short of traumatic. The girl cried herself bloody during their long journey from Heathrow to the States. Convincing the reps at Anubis to make an exception to their one vampire per pod rule was seemingly outside of the realm of reality. And trying to explain to their icy staff that the baby vamp was terribly claustrophobic and afraid of the dark turned out to be another exercise in futility.

So, in the end, Tara was forced to maneuver the baby vamp into the airline's oversized travel pod kicking, screaming and crying for their flight over the Atlantic. Although the toddler largely slept through the flight and a brief stopover at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, she emerged terrified and covered in the dried reminisce of bloody tears at their final destination. The bathroom where Tara washed Nola clean and changed her out of her sullied dress looked like a crime scene by the time they were finished. Were it not for the fact that Anubis provided private post-flight refreshment quarters, Tara was certain human authorities would have arrested her on sight.

Making her way through the terminal of Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport with Nola clinging fearfully to her neck, she overheard two humans lamenting how difficult travel was on their young children.

If only they knew.

As bitter as she was at the experience of traveling, Tara only blamed herself for being so impetuous. She'd left her only source of income and Nola's source of food all in one ill-planned night. There was barely enough in her account to pay for their impromptu six thousand pound flight, let alone the pricey bottled blood the baby vamp consumed every month.

Sat on a bench in the airport pick-up terminal with a pissed off toddler beside her, Tara broke down and prayed to a God she didn't believe in for a reprieve from her troubles.

To her surprise, deliverance quickly arrived driving a purple Cadillac Fleetwood.

"Beep beep, hooker!"

Never had anyone been so glad to be called a prostitute than Tara was in that moment. The stressed out vampire couldn't keep from grinning when she saw her human cousin's face for the first time in decades.

At forty-nine, Lafayette Reynolds was still a sight to behold in his glittering old gold sequin tank top, black cargo pants, and a New Orleans Saints hat cocked to the side of his bald head. Wearing falsies and just the right amount of concealer, the Louisianan would have easily been mistaken for much younger.

"Now see, I did not drag my pretty ass all the way to the airport on a Saturday night for you to stand there and stare at me all night," Lafayette chastised. "You gonna give your cousin a hug or not?"

Tara didn't need to be asked twice. At near warp speed she ran to embrace him.

"Welcome home, bitch," Lafayette said as he held his estranged cousin tightly.

Although Tara had sworn when she left that she would never step foot in Louisiana ever again, she truly did feel like she was home in Lafayette's arms. They'd been as close as siblings once and for the first time in nearly two decades she felt like they could be again.

Both cousins were on the verge of tears when finally they pulled apart. Behind them, hugging a giant pink bunny tightly, Nola watched the reunion play out.

Pulling away, Lafayette noticed the frowning child with unearthly seafoam green eyes overflowing with sadness. "Now who is this pretty little wallflower?" he asked, making a show out of approaching Nola. "What's your name, buttercup?"

The baby vamp's gaze shifted cautiously from Lafayette to Tara, who reassured her with a staid smile. Nola wasn't having any of it. Pouting, she averted her attention to her bunny.

"That's alright, cutie. I hate the airport, too," he reassured, grabbing their luggage. "Let's get up outta here."

Bounce music bleared from the car stereo as Lafayette cruised by the familiar sights and sounds of the city Tara had fleetingly called home. For the long time expatriate, the experience bordered on surreal. Much remained the same while even more had changed. As she noted the new businesses and housing developments that now stood in place of abandoned buildings and empty lots, Tara wondered if any of her old fighting haunts still existed.

"C'mon now, Tara Mae," Lafayette said, intruding on his brooding cousin's musing. "You can't be messin' up my chakra while Big Freedia's playin."

"Sorry, I'm just," Tara began and quickly got lost in her thoughts. "I don't know."

"Well, take your time not knowin'. I got a place for you to stay until you back on your feet. It's next door to what has got to be loudest bar in Marginy, but it's light-tight and it's safe. I just gotta make one quick stop at and we'll head over."

"Thanks, La," Tara replied genuinely, smacking her cousin lightly on the arm with the back of her hand as she turned back to gaze out the passenger side window.

The French Quarter's ostentatious Creole Townhouses soon gave way to Faubourg Marigny's quaint Creole cottages and Shotgun houses. Even at night the architecture of New Orleans made for an impressive sight. Still, Tara felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of never again being able to see the beauty of the city during the day.

It wasn't long before Lafayette pulled the caddy to a stop in front of a brick townhouse with a bar on the first level.

"Be right back," He mumbled before stepping out to car.

Across the street, Tara watched a silvered haired white man in an expensive looking wool suit anxiously pacing back and forth. His furrowed forehead smoothed the instant he saw Lafayette approach. As meek as a well-trained dog he allowed himself to be led by the silk tie hanging loosely about his neck. Upon stopping in a darkened service entryway the men embraced passionately.

Tara observed their peculiar interaction from inside the car. Her preternatural sight allowing her to see at a distance what most humans would have missed up close, she caught a glimpse of a vial of blood as it was transferred from Lafayette's mouth to the stranger's. Mere moments later they parted ways.

Incensed, Tara jumped out of the car.

"Lafayette Reynolds, I know you have not lost yer fuckin' mind sellin' that shit again!"

"Hey," Lafayette yelled and whispered all at once. "Keep your voice down," He implored, ushering his cousin back to the caddy.

He barely had a chance to register what hit him when he found himself slammed up against a brick wall.

"I can't believe you could still be this damn stupid," Tara spoke scathingly, pushing her muscular forearm into the human's collarbone for emphasis.

"You fell for with the wicked bitch of west and you gonna lecture me about stupidity?"

From the look on Tara's face, Lafayette knew his sucker punch landed harder than he'd planned. Shoving her cousin a final time, Tara eased up and let him off the wall.

"Maybe I been dead to you for twenty years, but life didn't stop for me, Tara. I had to survive some type of way."

"Then get a job!"

Lafayette pulled a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and waved it in his cousin's face.

"What job you know pay me like this, huh? You see any corporate recruiters lookin' to hire a flamboyant black faggot with no education and no experience? You know what they say about desperate times."

"Alright, whatever, fine. It's your life and I'm not gonna tell you how to live it. But I can't stay with you if you're dealin' V, La. I got a little girl to worry about now."

"Tara, you and that little girl officially the only family I got left. My business is mine and I don't want you nowhere around it. Ya'll can stay at my place and I'll stay wit' a friend."

"Dammit, La," Tara muttered, turning her back on her cousin to head back to his car. Her anger at him was all but gone, but her worry for his safety remained.

The silent ride to Lafayette's house was blessedly short. From the rearview mirror, Tara could see Nola rubbing her face the way she tended to do when she was beginning to grow hungry. The car crept to a stop in front of a violet and mauve shotgun house with green shutters.

"Like I said, it ain't much but it's safe."

"I like it," Tara complimented, taking a moment to contemplate her temporary digs before she climbed out of the Cadillac to retrieve Nola from the back seat. "It's very…you."

It was an understatement, she soon found.

"You are cordially invited," Lafayette said, breaking the supernatural barrier that would have otherwise barred Tara and Nola from his home. "Bedroom's straight through there. Bathroom's in the back next to the kitchen if you wanna freshen up…or whatever ya'll do."

Religious paraphernalia and Mardi Gras beads lined the red walls of the front room while an eclectic mixture of African masks and second-hand French furniture decorated the pale green bedroom. The kitchen, in stark contrast, was white and bare. It looked as if Lafayette never stepped foot in it, let alone cooked inside of it.

"Well, hate to cut this reunion short, but I got some more upstanding members of New Orleans society waitin' for their evenin' delivery. You call me if you need anything."

Barely hiding her disapproval, Tara nodded and walked her cousin to the front door. He turned briefly to bid Nola a farewell fit for a princess.

"Goodnight, buttercup."

The vivid colors of the room almost appeared to grow dull as soon as Lafayette departed and got lost in the night. Locking the door behind him, Tara turned her attention to a fiberglass trunk sat in the middle of the room next to a bevy of luggage she couldn't be bothered to unpack. The chilled case was filled with seven thousand dollars worth of Nola's favorite blood type. If she was lucky, the supply would last two weeks.

"You hungry, baby girl?"

The uncharacteristically quiet toddler said nothing, yet Tara soon learned that her answer was a resounding yes. In record time Nola drank an entire magnum sized bottle worth of B+.

"More peas," she politely requested each time her Princess and the Frog cup was emptied. Tara quickly obliged the toddler while simultaneously revaluating her original estimate of how long her food supply would last. Not long was the only definite conclusion the increasingly anxious vampire came to. While she had some money saved up, it was only a matter of months before Nola ate through that as well.

Glancing at her watch, Tara noted the hour for the first time since she'd arrived in the city.

Eight o'clock.

The night was young, but time was not on her side.

Tara knew from experience just how hard the Big Easy could be. Had it not been for a retired Thai boxer named Miles Bechet, she might not have survived her first week in the city. The unassuming fighter had been the only one to come to her aid when she found herself accosted by a drunken pair of men, most likely in town for Fat Tuesday.

She'd escaped Mississippi by the skin of her teeth only to discover her living nightmare had followed her to her hometown of Bon Temps. By the time she sought refuge in New Orleans, the fighting spirit had all but left Tara Thornton.

Backed up against a wall, she stood paralyzed until a dark stranger confidently ordered her would be attackers to leave. When the larger of the men refused, a swift elbow collided with his face and left him crumpled on the ground with a bloodied and broken jaw. The smaller of the pair never had a chance to say anything before a knee connected with his groin and landed him in a heap beside his buddy.

"You okay?" the stranger inquired in a perfunctory sort of way while he kept his hazel eyes pinned on his downed opponents.

"Hell no," Tara replied, taking deep steadying breaths to quell the panic attack she felt coming on.

"That's alright, you will be."

Tara stared back at the man in disbelief. She couldn't have fathomed then that the stranger would train her to become one of the most formidable underground fighters New Orleans had ever seen.

For the second time since arriving, Tara pondered Miles' whereabouts. Was he still in New Orleans? Was he even alive? And would he want anything to do with her if he was?

There was only one way to find out.

Wiping Nola's face clean, Tara bundled her up in a light down jacket, her favorite crochet bunny hat and informed her of their impromptu plans to visit her old hangout in the Seventh Ward.

Although it had been years since she traversed the streets of the Crescent City, Tara quickly found her footing. The hangouts she'd known and loved were all likely gone and forgotten. But there was only one that still mattered to her.

The relief she felt upon finding it open was almost overwhelming. So much had changed. It looked less seedy, for one. When Tara had first entered the building it was through a broken door that led into a dark corridor with a shaky staircase. With no light to lead her she followed the smell of sweat and the sound of grunting until she stumbled on the gym.

To say that things had changed was an understatement.

Holding Nola's hand, Tara patiently walked with her through the brightly lit passage way and up sturdy stairs to an almost unrecognizable space. Gone were the old kickboxing bags that were so worn they had to be duct taped into oblivion to keep their contents from bleeding out with each strike. In the middle of the space, a large caged ring dominated the space.

Inside of the ring two men twined and twisted each other into various attempts at submission. Tara observed the grapplers for a moment, noting their technique. Nola gripped her hand a little tighter as she looked on in kind.

"It's alright," Tara reassured, crouching down beside the girl to explain what she was seeing. "They're only playin'."

Behind them a man laughed deep and long.

"My boy don't play. Not in the ring, he sure don't."

Even after two decades Tara recognized the sound immediately. Rising, she spun around to see her former mentor. Even at an advanced age, his hard face was still as smooth and dark as a coffee bean. Grey hair closely cropped hair replaced the curly raven mop the fighter once sported. There were other telltale signs of aging. He was thinner, for one. And Tara couldn't help stare at the winding koa walking stick he held firmly in his battle worn hand.

"I know I must be losin' my mind, 'cause you can't be-"

Tara's dark eyes grew as wide and hopeful as a child's. At a loss for words, she nodded.

"Get over here," Miles exclaimed, half-laughing in his raspy voice. Marveling, he dropped his expensive looking walking stick to put his hands on either side of Tara's leather clad shoulders as if to straighten her stance. "They say black don't crack, but this shit is ridiculous. You ain't age a single day since…" he trailed off as realization dawned on him.

Tara felt her heart sink at the sadness that eclipsed Mile's smiling face. She wasn't ashamed. She couldn't be, not of something she had no control over. But deep down she still grieved for the person she once was.

"What happened to you, girl?"

"It's a long story."

"So's the bible and I've read it cover-to-cover four times."

"I got turned. I didn't ask for it and I didn't choose it, but it is what it is."

"That's all I get?"

"For now," Tara answered firmly.

"In all these years, you coulda let me know. I wouldn't have judged you for some shit you ain't have no control over. You family here, Toni."

"My name isn't Toni, Miles, it's Tara. Tara Mae Thornton."

"I don't give a good goddamn what it is, you're back and that's what matters. I'll give you all the time you need, but I want the full story."

She owed him that at the very least. And, if she was honest, it would be cathartic to confide in the old man for once. Tara relented with a small smile.

"Alright."

"So I'm guessin' you didn't come here to see my pretty face," Mile remarked knowingly.

"I thought you might have some work for me. I mean, maybe I could help you around here, teach a class or help train a prospect."

Miles rubbed the back of his neck as he shifted his focus to the men in the ring.

"This one here," Miles began, nodding to a brawny man who looked to be in the midst of ripping his sparring partner's arm off. "Built like a tank and he strikes twice as hard as one, but his technique is sloppy and he's too stubborn to listen to anything his daddy has to say about it. Maybe you could work with him."

"That's Gumby?" Tara questioned increduously, referring to Miles's son by his nickname. "When I left a summer breeze could've knocked him over."

"Twenty years ago maybe," Mile reminded, "And no one's been brave enough to call him Gumby since he graduated high school. He'll be thirty in a few months."

"I got a lot to catch up with, huh?"

"We'll work on that," Miles replied with certainty, appraising Tara with the same look of pride he had when watching his own son. "What do you know about the VFA?"

"I know it's a buncha bullshit," Tara dismissed. "Masterpiece Theater for rednecks and morons too stupid or too drunk to care it's all fake."

"Go 'head and touch that cage there, " Miles instructed.

The wary vampire knew from smell alone that the metal was coated in silver. After a second of hesitation, she did as her former teacher asked. The results were as expected.

Tara bit back the curse on the tip of her tongue as she made contact. It burned like hell.

"The hell was that about, you the black Mr. Miyagi now?" she questioned, her voice rising as she fixed Miles with eyes so pitiable they'd make a hushpuppy look cheerful in comparison.

"That feel fake to you? If you can't handle three seconds touching the outside that cage, ain't no way you'll last three rounds inside of it."

"I never said anythang about fightin'."

"You hurtin' for money, ain't you? I've seen young vamps lose and still walk away with fifty grand. If you can hold your own in an older age range, you stand to make a hell of a lot more than that."

"You make it sound easy."

"It's not. Not for most, anyway. I get a lot of wannabes comin' in here with designs on becoming the next VFA superstar. But they don't have what it takes, not like you."

Tara's scoff was immediate.

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, you know that."

"When have I ever lied to you?" Miles asked indignantly. "If I said it, it's the truth."

Nola tugged on Tara's hand as if she didn't like the topic of discussion. Tara picked the toddler up almost on reflex and whispered petty promises in her ear to stay the tantrum threatening to erupt. It only made matters worse.

"No," Nola whined, rejecting Tara with her tiny but forceful hands. "I want mama."

Watching the scene play out, Miles waved his former pupil away dismissively.

"Take care of your baby girl tonight. We start training tomorrow."

Tara didn't bother to protest the old man's presumptuousness. Instead she adjusted Nola in her arms and set off for the long walk back to Lafayette's house. As a human, the controlled chaos of hand-to-hand combat had been the only time she'd ever truly felt at harmony with herself. Battling the demons that plagued her thoughts, she emerged battered and bruised, yet victorious nonetheless.

Perhaps she would find her peace in the ring once more.