A/N: This fic is everything the opposite of what I've ever done – but I cannot unveil a single thing about this idea until the plot has revealed itself. So be patient, and please keep on reading, even though things might feel a bit confusing in the beginning! You'll thank me later! Hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed the plotting – it's going to be a long one – hopefully enjoyable once you get what it's about. There's some violence in here which might not sit well with some readers, please be forewarned. Without further ado...

Ashley

Bad Reputation

Had I known it'd be so cold out here, I would've dressed warmer. Another black layer of clothes, feeling like another layer to not only protect my body, but in an sad kind of way, also me.

I liked layers. The more layers you added, the harder it would get for anyone to penetrate your soul. Of course, you'd kind of need one to protect one. I sometimes wondered about myself. I wondered when things have changed. Why things have changed.

Okay, no seriously, it's too cold.

I shifted somewhat, trying to ignore the fact that my torso had gone partly numb. As long as my arms, hands, and eyes were still functioning, everything would be okay.

Scanning the snow-covered landscape below me, my mind drifted again.

So many people, so many useless souls in this life. I was hardened by the life I've lived. Some by choice, majority of it not. I couldn't remember much of my past, but the parts that were still lodged in my memory weren't any good. A mother who rejected me and a father I've only seen a total of a hundred and twelve days since I was five years old. He died in a car accident when I was about seventeen. Not much of a family life, was it?

So it shouldn't really come as a surprise that I didn't care much for other people around me. In the beginning I was scared to get close to people for the fear of just losing them in the end, and even more terrified that they would break me. But after so many years of solitude, it came natural to me not to let anyone in. And I preferred it that way. My lifestyle required it that way.

My mind drifted to times when I was still surrounded by hordes of people. There was a distinct difference between being surrounded by people and being part of their lives – so much so that you could almost be labeled as friends. Maybe we were friends, I wouldn't know. I couldn't remember that much. But I did remember school, the clicks, annoying teachers, annoying peers. A lot of kids annoyed me back then. A lot of people still annoy me now.

But things were different back then. Life wasn't as lonely as it is now, despite my inability to really connect with people on a more emotional level. It was too exhausting. I could handle the physical exhaustion that was brought on by endless nights of sex with faceless strangers in clubs I frequented, only for brief amounts of time until I moved on to the next. People knew of me, but I didn't want them to know me.

What was there to know, anyway? My mother had told me on numerous occasions that I was a mistake. I was grateful that my father wasn't as uncouth as she was, but he wasn't present enough to make me feel like I belonged to a family who cared. Or even just a family. We didn't even classify as that. The Davies' was just a name. There was no family attached to it.

I felt the same about myself. There was nothing attached to the psyche of Ashley Davies. It was that simple. I was happy when people minded their own business and didn't spill my coffee. That, and not leave endless remarks about my sexuality. Really, it was old news already. It wasn't that I had a low self-esteem – on the contrary – I was hot, and I knew it. I had a small muscled frame, sporting a golden brown tan, shoulder length dark curly hair, framing my face perfectly, and piercing brown eyes – so I've been told. So no, I didn't have any confidence issues. I just didn't give a fuck. About anything or anyone. And I appreciated that people respected me for that.

Everybody who claimed to know me, knew that. It was a simple rule to live by, really. Life was good when there weren't any expectations – it was the best way to avoid disappointment. In fact, I used those words on every single girl I've slept with. Don't expect anything. Well, emotionally. Physically they needed to expect to get the best lay in town. I didn't care who I slept with – some were married, some engaged or had girlfriends. Sometimes I even did the girlfriends right after.

Like I said, I didn't give a fuck.

Why it only attracted so many more girls, only they would know…

I just enjoyed the release, and thorough workout, I might add. And I truly appreciated the female anatomy. Yes, there was a time when things were different. I was a little more humane, I even dated a guy. Sadly I was also a teen pregnancy statistic. But I lost the baby, and everything else I thought was good in my life. I was too young to realize that what I thought was good then, was merely a drop in the ocean. Perseverance and desperation got me to where I was today.

Some would say it was just fucking sad, looking at me now, but I would say it's a blessing. I was offering a service to my country. In more ways than one. Nothing sad about that, is there?

I definitely didn't hear any girls complain.

What I did hear were raised voices of parents fighting in the reality of my surrounding. I squinted and tried to read their lips. Not that it was really necessary – they were yelling at each other so loud, it was surprising their toddler, playing in a sandpit just a couple of feet away, was unaffected by the ruckus. Maybe it happened so often the poor kid was used to it.

Parents…

Were there actually any good ones out there? I wanted to believe that I could've been a good parent, when I had the opportunity. Now, though… I'd probably be a divorcee or worse, be a single mother struggling to make ends meet, with no family to support me or the kid.

Yeah, fucking depressing.

"Damn it, Tracy! I told you this weeks ago! You know how things are at work right now – if they suspect anything – "

"Keep your voice down, Boz."

Tracy and Boz. What an odd combination.

I wondered if I had lived a different life, what my spouse's name would be. I wondered if she'd agree to take my surname – despite the Davies-name meaning nothing to me, I liked the sound of my name – and I wondered if it would go well with her name.

And what we'd name our children. I wanted a girl and a boy. Maybe even a third baby after a couple of years. We'd live in a beautiful townhouse, protected in a gated community, so we'd be able to let our kids ride their bicycles in the street. And we'd take them for walks, let them play in the park, allow them to meet other kids on the block. Maybe even be best friends with the neighbors…

It was a beautiful dream, an amazing vision, but it wasn't mine. I was too far gone to dream about wives and kids and families and the good, soft things in life.

There was nothing soft about Ashley Davies.

I thought about my own place. Nothing in there was soft either. It was a huge, spotless loft, with everything in its place. A decently equipped kitchen; state-of-the-art coffee machine and normal other gadgets. A simple lounge area – two large sofas and a TV mounted to the wall. I even owned a bar. Fully stocked. Two bedrooms – one served as an actual bedroom, the other as a little study. A guest bathroom and an en-suite in the main bedroom. Everything was clinically clean. Large, cloud-black tiles covering the entire floor area, light grey walls, and high, slanted industrial ceilings. No artwork or any photographs. No clutter. It was easier that way.

I could pack up and be gone in two hours max. Five minutes if I left everything as it was. I was always prepared to leave. I had to be.

"Take him home, Tracy, and just follow the plan."

The couple were still at it. Loud. It fascinated me that people didn't realize how sound could travel. In dry air, at a temperature of about 68F, a sound wave could travel one mile in a staggering 4.689 seconds. It was cold out today, so we could probably add a millisecond or two. Considering the quiet surroundings – it was a school day, barely anybody in the snow-covered park, it was a given that raised voices would echo quite loudly.

So whatever they were discussing, or planning, were really not that discreet.

I took my time to take a look around on behalf of them. There was no sign of people out on the street in this miserable weather. Maybe they let their guard down because of that. The abandoned park was small – there was only a sandpit, and junior jungle gym with two swings. This was really just a park for tots. Several wooden benches were scattered all over, following the narrowly scraped path as far as the naked eye could see. Poor public servants. I wouldn't want to be the one clearing and salting all these little walkways through the snowy suburbs of New York. Not in shitty weather like this.

My clothes were soaked – I could feel the numbness spreading to the rest of my body, not only my stomach anymore. It was silly of me to think this would be over soon. I made a mental note to be sure to buy some better winter clothing. It was a bitch to pack, but it was a necessity.

"I can't do this anymore, Boz. Can't we just go somewhere else?"

"Trace, baby, I told you, they'd figure it out. They'll find us."

"What if you go to the police – "

"Tracy, stop. We've been over this a million times. Stick to the plan. Everything will happen as it should. You need to trust me on this."

A simple gesture such as cupping her chin, holding her gaze, was quite heartwarming. Was it possible that two people could love each other so much, that just a simple touch and eye contact could erase all their fears? Did that kind of love exist?

"I do trust you, Boz. I'm just so scared – for you, baby."

They weren't yelling anymore. But I could still hear them quite clearly. Sound refracted upwards when the temperature was colder the higher you got. I wasn't as far as I was high up. In summer their conversation would have refracted downwards and in fact, traveled a lot further on the ground.

Don't ask me how I knew all of this. It was second nature to me – a basic, necessary bit of education I absolutely needed, to be as good as I wanted to be.

And I considered myself the best.

A soft, static, radio noise in my ear startled me.

"Davies, are you in position?"

Fucking finally!

Bad Reputation – Joan Jett & the Blackhearts