AN:

Hello! This companion piece was written for the Fandoms for Hope and Relief compilation in aid of the Australian bushfires. We raised a ton of money for a really good cause, so thank you so much if you donated to get your hands on this early!

If you're here, you've probably read White Noise. If not, you might want to read that first as I'm not sure whether this works as a standalone. This picks up at Chapter 11 if you want to go back and refresh!

Thanks once again to Monica for flexing her beta-ing muscles and working this into shape and Maria and Heather for pre-reading.

Music for this chapter:

Grandson: Darkside

The Score: Stay

Duality

Chicago | August 2007

Ben is in his car at the docks—the usual place—when I finally pull up. I sit for a minute, lighting a smoke, tossing the pack on the passenger seat, mind burning up with thoughts of Bella. She's under my skin and pulsing through my veins, the taste of her still on the tip of my tongue. She's all I've thought about in the darkest hours for weeks.

I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't fuckin' mad at Benny boy right now, the little cockblocking shit.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben says as I get out the car, door slamming behind me. He eyeballs my bandaged up hands and eyes that are getting blacker by the minute.

He's gonna figure that shit out soon enough, so I tell him straight.

"James."

"Oh, man." He shakes his head as I exhale a cloud of smoke. "Alec's gonna be pissed."

Alec can fuck off.

"Did ya get him good Mase?" he asks, a little gleam in his eye. He loves a fight almost as much as I do.

"Not as much as I wanted."

If Bella hadn't been there… I wouldn't have stopped. I'd have carried on until his brain coated the sidewalk.

I take another long pull on my cigarette, smoke hot in my lungs, feeling wound up again; remembering the way she was screaming at him to stop, all the shit he was spewing at her. And it ain't the first time.

The thought of her alone, dealing with him for fuck knows how long... It makes my blood boil.

His aim tonight was clear. James is that type: if he can't have her, no one can. He'd have knifed her over and over to make sure of it.

We start walking towards the office and I'm ready to lay into Waylon. Two shipments this week: late. We pay him enough for this not to happen; he keeps everything ticking over, but he's getting sloppy.

And Alec don't do sloppy, unless it involves pussy.

Ben opens his mouth and I just know he's gonna carry on his line of questioning because he's the nosiest little fucker out there.

He doesn't disappoint.

"So how'd it go down, huh?"

I ignore him.

"Come on, man. I want the fucking details. You and James got into it, cus what?"

"We ain't at school; I'm not givin' you a fuckin' written report here."

He stops and studies me, and then a little smirk creeps onto his face, spreading his fat cheeks apart.

"It's the girl, ain't it? James' bitch."

I turn to him sharply, irritation flaring.

"What did you say?"

He raises his hands as we carry on walking. "Whoa man, just chill, you know I don't mean shit by it. But it's her, ain't it? You fuckin' pasted him over his own piece of ass? Or were you balls deep when he found you?"

"It's not like that with her." I exhale.

I'm not sure what it's like.

Ben stops still and looks at me like I've grown another head.

"What do ya mean? 'It's not like that with her'. Are you completely off your nut?"

I can't explain it, not without sounding like a pussy, so I give him what he wants.

"She's left him. I went with her so she could grab some stuff from their place. He saw us together, thought somethin' was goin' on, so we got into it."

"So what? She stay with him after that?"

I smile. "Naw, man. She came with me. She's at mine."

My smile fades.

She's at mine.

"Oh shit."

"Let's get this over with," I say, taking the steps two at a time, chucking my cigarette over the railing onto the tarmac below.

...

Waylon's sweating as I pace the office. Ben pulling the punches. His face is bruising up already.

"The fuck is Alec paying you for?"

He flinches. "Look, I do what I can but sometimes things run over, y'know? I got no control over mother nature."

"Don't give a fuck. You got shipping reports, huh? You let us know. You don't fuckin' leave us exposed to that shit. To cops. Any fucker could've seen the guys waitin' and rang it in. You don't think it looks suspect them waiting there like that? Next time you fuck up it's gonna be Alec down here choppin' off parts I bet you wanna keep."

Ben rams his fist into his gut again, driving it home.

"Alright, alright," Waylon wheezes, pained, hands raising. "I get it. You've- you've made your point."

"Good. Now stop wastin' my fuckin' time." I yank the door open and take the steps two at a time, Ben hot on my heels.

"There a fire or somethin'?" he says as he catches up, unable to contain the glee on his face. "Got somewhere you need to be?"

I don't answer him cos he knows there is.

"Just let me know how those tits look when you tap that. Pictures a bonus."

It's not like we ain't done that shit before—shared… pictures, pussy—but I can't shake off this feeling I get with Bella that makes her different.

In a good way.

I take off without answering him. If I'm lucky enough to end up buried inside her, I ain't sharing that shit with no one.

She startles awake when I come into the apartment, panicking before I tell her it's me. Settling back down, pouty lips part, dark hair spilling over the sofa. My eyes slowly wander over her, lingering on the tight curves she's got goin' on. I meant what I said to her. She's crazy beautiful. I pull a blanket over her and before I know what I'm doing, I'm kissing her forehead, breathing her in.

Sitting down heavily at her feet, I watch her for a while, like a fucking creep. Her chest rises and falls steadily as I spark-up a smoke in the half-light of the news she's put on, tilting my head back and wincing as I inhale. Fucking James.

Minutes or hours later she wakes me up with a sob that tears out of her mouth, sitting bolt upright, hands clawing at her throat.

By the time I've pulled her fingers gently away and she's picking at the blanket with tears in her eyes telling me it's not bad dreams, but memories, I know I fucked up.

I should've killed him.

...

"You really listen to Foo Fighters?"

She's sat across the breakfast bar from me, hair still damp from the shower. She could've taken off when she woke up, but she's still here. I want her to be smart, to leave... ask me to drive her to her friend's house or somethin' but she hasn't. Not yet. And even though I know I'm no good for her, part of me is real happy that she's sticking around.

I nod at the faded band t-shirt she's got on, a bare shoulder peeking out. She don't really strike me as the type, but maybe I'm wrong.

She smiles big, and it does funny shit to my insides.

"Not as much now as in high school. But who doesn't like Learn to Fly as a feel good anthem?"

"Classic," I agree, handing her a glass of water and taking a couple of pizzas out the freezer. "Pepperoni or Hawaiian?"

Her nose wrinkles and she pulls a face, like I've offended her.

"Is that even a question?"

I put the Hawaiian back. Pepperoni it is.

"There ain't nothin' wrong with pineapple on pizza," I tell her, folding my arms and leaning on the counter.

"Uh… Let's not even start this. It's just straight up plain wrong."

She's smiling again, acting like hours earlier she wasn't crying hysterically… Like James wasn't running her down with a knife. Like mom. Pretending everything's just fine.

Carl and me, we'd hear my old man smackin' her around. Too young, too scared to do anything about it. Then she'd do this; pretend nothing had happened, even if the evidence was all over her face.

"What else is plain wrong?" I ask her.

"Like in general or just food wise?"

"Whichever."

She thinks for a second and raises a hand, counting them off on her fingers. "OJ with bits in, crocs, mac n cheese and Nickelback."

"Mac n cheese?"

"Out of a tin." Her face curls up, disgusted, and I gotta laugh. "What's plain wrong for you?"

"Grillz, WWF, vanilla ice cream."

"Vanilla ice cream?"

"You like things vanilla?" I lean forward a little more.

Her eyes narrow at me. "There's nothin' wrong with vanilla."

The little flush on her cheeks tells me she knows what I'm gettin' at and it makes me wanna take her through all the filthy things I wanna do to her.

"If your favorite is vanilla, you're not being adventurous enough."

"I didn't say it was my favorite," she retorts, challenging. "I said there's nothin' wrong with it. Unlike pineapple on pizza and WWF. I'll give you that."

I laugh and then wince, cos it hurts moving my face too much. The smile disappears from her face and she suddenly looks really sad, and with it, really fuckin' young.

"How old are you?" I ask, curious now.

"Twenty-two in September. Why?"

Jesus.

I take out a smoke, offering her one. Taking one she slips the filter between her lips.

"Thought you were older." I tell her, truthfully, lighting her cigarette, then mine.

She does a little shrug, like it's no big deal. But I got nine years on her, so it kinda is. I'm fuckin' old in comparison. I finished high school before she even started. Blood on my hands before she even had tits.

"How old are you?"

When I tell her I'm thirty, she doesn't make a big deal about it, exhaling and tapping ash into the glass tray.

"You're not that much older than James." She takes her lip between her teeth. "He's only a couple of years younger than you."

I take a long pull on my cigarette, suddenly serious. "Don't think he's a benchmark for what's right, Bella."

She gives me a wobbly, half-sad smile, eyes flitting down to painted nails, frowning.

"I know."

"How long were you with him?" She sucks in a breath of smoke before answering, her demeanor switched up, tense now.

"Seventeen when we got together."

My free hand twitches at my side; what I'd give to squeeze the life outta him right now. I don't doubt he took advantage of her at that age either. At seventeen you might think you know what you want, but you don't. I know that. She wasn't even an adult really, but he was, the sick prick.

"I know. Just… don't say whatever it is your thinking. I know." The plea in her voice just about kills me.

"Alright," I tell her.

She's listless, resigned. I don't want her to second guess her choice to leave him, to feel any guilt over what happened last night.

"You made the right choice."

She takes another drag, her eyes never leaving mine. And it's deep with us. I don't know why, it just is. A connection. She sees me, and I see her.

"Thank you," she says, her eyes darting over my busted face.

I don't need her thanks, so I brush it off, feelin' a lot like an asshole for making a move on her last night when she's messed up like this. I just couldn't fuckin' help myself. I never can with her. The want I feel when I'm around her… but the reality is; I can't give her much more than I have, and I don't want to treat her like any other girl.

Hook up and move on.

She don't deserve that.

We eat pizza and she changes up between being chatty and anxious. I roll with it, when she disappears inside her head, leaving sentences unfinished, distracted.

I get it. The shit I've done in my life, if I weren't so desensitized, I'd be the same. I'd never fuckin' sleep.

When she finally says she should go, that her friend's gonna be worried, I offer to drop her off. I ain't heard from Alec since this morning when he chewed me out over James, so I got time. The thought of her catching a bus or whatever don't sit right. I want to make sure wherever she goes, she's safe.

She's quieter still in the car, fiddling with her hands. She asks me about Kate and I can only grimace. Crazy, crazy Kate. Wish I'd never gone there, that's for sure.

When we finally pull up outside her friend's house, I make her take the four hundred dollars in my wallet, knowing she's got nothing else.

"Thank you. This is... Just- thank you. Maybe I can pay you back someday?"

"I don't need you to do that," I tell her.

I walk her down the path to the beat up front door. This neighborhood ain't the best, but it's better than where she was living before.

Impulse drives me to spin her around before she unlocks the door, to kiss her, again. There's something addictive about her tongue on mine, the feel of her underneath my hands, the little noises she makes. She leaves me aching for her, and if I weren't tryin' to be decent I'd press her for a lot more right now.

My cell buzzes and I ignore it this time, even though she laughs.

And I know I can't just leave this here. Her.

So I tell her I want to see her again, if she's OK with that. When she says yes, I tell her to switch her cell on, that I'll call her. Because for once, I really want that.

I want her.