Author's Note: New fic! New fic! New fic! Pretty excited to start this one. The epilogue to Pure Radiance will be up sometime soon and while there is a sequel planned, I wanted to take a break from that universe for a little bit to start something new. Obviously this is completely AU and I've been having a lot of fun developing a brand new world to play with. This one is going to get an M-rating for coarse language, mature themes (violence, crime, etc.) and, of course, smut. I don't want to give too much away straight from the get-go, but I hope you all enjoy it and thank you all so much for the continued support. Much love!
The autumn air washes over her, summoning pimples to her skin as she allows the gust to embrace her fully, to rake through her just once before abandoning her again, leaving her changed like the dead yet vibrant leaves which litter the ground.
She doesn't mind it.
After being stifled for so long, the wayward wind is a welcomed relief. She finds her lips being drawn into a smile as the cold nips at her cheeks, flooding them with colour.
"Look at you, Niehaus—a free woman."
She turns back to the uniformed woman standing behind her and nods.
"Yeah. I guess I am."
Freedom.
She'd always taken it for granted.
It wasn't until she had to piss without a door to shield her from the gaze of total strangers that she actually realized how good she had it before. She wouldn't say her experience in prison had been a particularly rough one—it was certainly better than many others—but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park, either. After she got used to the total lack of privacy and autonomy, things weren't all that bad. Sure, the isolation could be downright crippling, but she had found a way to keep her head above the water until her release.
"Freedom suits you," the guard smiles.
Prisoner or not, she had managed to make a few friends during her stay and maybe that's what saved her. She was charming and polite and pretty damn cooperative in comparison to most of the other inmates, so many of the guards took an immediate liking to her.
"Just don't go and do something stupid and land yourself back here. You're better than this place," she adds.
She nods again.
"Yeah. I know."
She had always been a fast learner and she had nothing to do but spend the last five years reflecting on her mistakes.
She could have graduated by now.
She could have been pursuing a graduate degree, or working at some top research facility.
Instead she's starting from scratch—a felon with zero prospects. How the hell is she going to recover from this? How is she supposed to piece her life back together and move forward? Her life had been so clear at one point, so full of potential, but now she finds herself dangling on the edge of uncertainty. At least in prison there were no illusions, no expectations. Every day was predetermined from what she ate to what she wore to when she woke and went to bed, when she shit and when she showered. Now she found herself overwhelmed by choice—or the surprising lack thereof.
No wonder so many of the girls ended up back here before long.
"Is it supposed to feel this weird?" she asks with a nervous laugh. "I-I mean, don't get me wrong—I'm totally glad to be out. It's just… my prospects are looking a little bleak right now."
The guard smiles, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"It's always hard in the beginning, but you'll figure it out. You're one of the smart ones."
"Not smart enough, apparently," she jokes. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
She continues to make banter until a car pulls up and she spies a familiar figure through the windshield. All of her fear and doubt immediately evaporates the second it parks and her friend emerges from the driver's seat.
"Oi!"
"Sarah!"
She's about to dash into her friend's arms but instinctively stops herself to look over to the guard, seeking permission.
"Can I—?"
"Don't look at me," the woman shrugs. "You're not my problem anymore. Now get outta here."
Beaming with gratitude, she rushes over to Sarah and the two throw their arms around each other, clinging to each other as if their lives depend on it. She can't stop the tears nipping at her eyes when Sarah's familiar scent permeates her nostrils; she was afraid that after five years, something would have changed but she's comforted by the familiar scent, the familiar voice.
"Let's get the fuck outta here, yeah? Five years overdue."
She climbs into the passenger seat without looking back.
"Jesus Christ. It's been ages," she laughs, walking into her old watering hole and revelling in the familiarity. "This place hasn't changed a bit, though. Can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Sarah joins in on the laughter.
"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
"Yeah, but I'm not sure this place was ever fully functioning to begin with."
Sarah leads them through the bar to their old table where they spent many drunken nights wasting away their youth. Her grin widens when she spots Sarah's scrawny brother already waiting for him.
"Jesus, Felix," she remarks, giving him a once over. "You're, like, grown up."
"And grown out. Don't you forget it, darling."
The last time she'd seen him, he was nothing more than a snot-nosed teenager who used to follow them around like a lost puppy, always at Sarah's heel. Of course, he was always sassy and boisterous but he seems to have actually grown into himself.
"Oh, come here," he beckons her, pulling her into an embrace.
They take their seats, reacquainting themselves with each other. Sarah had always come to visit her quite frequently and so there isn't too much for them to catch up on, but she grants Felix an open floor, demanding to know what he's been up to for the last five years.
"Really? You want to talk about me?" he gawks.
"Why not? It's been five years, dude. I'm sure you have a story or two."
He exchanges looks with Sarah.
"Not that I don't love talking about myself, but shouldn't we be talking about you? This is your day, after all," he offers.
She grows silent, contemplative.
"I… don't have anything to say."
He scoffs.
"You spend five years in a woman's prison and you don't have anything to say about it?"
"What am I supposed to say?" she counters. "It's prison. It sucks. It's the same thing, day in and day out. There's not much room for growth or development."
He smirks, taking a sip of his Guinness.
"But I'm sure there's plenty of time to plot revenge."
Her brow furrows, confusion setting in.
"What?"
"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he throws. "How are you going to get back at her?"
She freezes, then shoots an icy glare in Sarah's direction.
"Just drop it," she says sternly.
"Cosima, you have to have some sort of plan. You can't just let that bitch—"
"Leave it alone, Felix," she snaps again. "It's over. That's that."
An awkward silence befalls the table as the siblings decide the best way to approach their newly-released friend and the ex-con tries to shake all memories of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from her head. She probably should have been prepared for the topic, but five years of distance and complete radio silence have almost deluded her into thinking that her duplicitous ex was no longer relevant.
"Well, would you look at this motherfucker here."
Their awkward silence is interrupted by their favourite bartender. Cosima beams up at the spectacled woman, memories rushing back into her head.
"God, you're still here?" she teases, tongue poking out from behind her teeth. "Maybe my prospects aren't so bad after all."
If Bobby's still bartending, maybe the world hasn't changed that rapidly after all.
"That's no way to speak to the owner of this fine establishment," Bobby spits back.
"What? You own the place now?" Cosima asks incredulously.
"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?" Bobby laughs, shaking her head. "My name's on the front, sweetheart."
The four have a laugh, Bobby taking their drink orders.
"This round's on me," she offers.
"Bobby—"
"Don't worry about it," she cuts Cosima off. "I know you have no money and you only get out of prison once… hopefully. Let's celebrate."
She disappears for a couple of minutes and returns with their orders— two pints of Guinness for the siblings, a gin and tonic with double lime for the free woman, as well as four shots of tequila to get them all started. They down their shots enthusiastically and let the celebration commence.
"So, you gonna go back to school?" Sarah asks.
Cosima shrugs.
"I don't know. Don't even know if I can. Do you think they'd accept a felon?"
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Felix encourages her.
She stares into her drink, swirling the ice cubes in her glass with the straw.
"Even if they did accept me and I finished my degree, I'll never get a job in the medical field with a criminal record."
A solemn silence befalls the group.
"So, what's the plan, then?" Sarah asks.
"I don't know. Get a job, I guess," Cosima shrugs half-heartedly. "Start making some money."
"It's not much, but if you need a gig, I could always use another bartender," Bobby offers.
"Really?" Cosima asks.
She had thought that finding a job was going to take her months and while she never pictured herself as a bartender, there were certainly worse jobs to have. At least Bobby is a friend who's willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She's certain that she won't find a better opportunity anywhere.
"That, or I guess you could go back to hustling folks at the table," the tattooed woman shrugs, gesturing over to a vacant pool table.
"No," the Cosima immediately retorts. "Bartending would be perfect. Thank you so much, Bobby. I totally owe you one."
"No problem," Bobby smiles. "You enjoy your weekend of freedom and swing by on Monday. I'll set you up."
She leaves the three of them alone again to tend to the other patrons who are now starting to flow into the bar more steadily.
"Look at you, scoring a real job," Felix teases. "You're already doing one better than the two of us."
"Geez. All these years, she's never offered me a job," Sarah mutters.
Cosima laughs.
"It may not be as lucrative as a life of crime, but it's something," she admits.
Felix and Sarah exchange concerned looks once more and the dreadlocked woman detects the uncertainty in the air.
"What is it?" she prods.
The two are clearly withholding something from her and from the looks of it, they seem nervous about divulging.
"Look—I know you just got out of prison and everything and you're trying to keep a low profile, but…"
Sarah stops herself, unsure of how to continue.
"But…?" Cosima tries to coax her.
"We were… sort of wondering if… if… you'd maybe want to help us with a job?"
Her spine stiffens, her blood runs cold.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"I know it sounds mad—"
"That's because it is mad," Cosima snaps. "I've been out of prison for, what, three hours now and you're already trying to recruit me into your shit?"
"We wouldn't ask if it wasn't super important!" Felix tries.
"More important than our friendship?" she challenges.
They both hesitate, regarding their clearly unstable friend with the utmost caution.
"I just spent the last five years in absolute hell because the love of my life threw me under the bus and then left me to rot, and now you're going to ask me to put myself in a position where I might get sent back to that hell hole for a lot longer?"
"Oh, please," Felix scoffs, taking a swig from his drink. ""Love of your life?" Don't flatter her."
"Shut up, Felix!" she attacks, slamming her glass down on the table and drawing the attention of nearby patrons. "You don't know anything about it!"
She had thought she was over it—that the past was in the past and that she was more than ready to move on. She told herself she no longer cared, that she didn't need such a toxic person in her life anyway, but as she glances over at the lonely pool table to her left, she realizes that it isn't quite that simple.
Toxins are trickier than that.
Even if you treat the source and dress the wound, once it's entered your blood stream, it's only a matter of time before it circulates through your entire body and compromises your nervous system. Before long, you find yourself paralyzed—unable to move or scream or cry for help—unable to breathe as every aching breath is sucked from your body, stifling you worse than any prison ever could. Unless an antidote is administered in time, there's absolutely no hope for survival.
And Delphine Cormier is one poison without a cure.
"That'll be a gin and tonic—double lime," she announces as she triumphantly sinks the eight ball into the corner pocket, concluding the game.
Sarah scowls, tipping her head back and swallowing her defeat along with the remnants of her glass in a single, heavy gulp.
"Yeah, yeah," the punk mutters dismissively, turning to make her way toward the bar. "Keep talking."
"And keep walking! I'm thirsty!" Cosima counters, a smirk fixed firmly to her face.
She's never considered herself a competitive person by nature, but there's something so satisfying about knocking her childhood friend down a few pegs—in the most loving way possible, of course; ever since they were kids, Sarah was always the leader of their pack—always calling all the shots, making sure her voice was the loudest. The quirky young student didn't mind it all that much since Sarah was usually pretty fair and a whole lot of fun to be around, but there came a time when her bravado grew a little too loud. In those times, Cosima liked to quash her dominance in the only way she knew how—on the table.
She couldn't throw a football, couldn't run a marathon or win an arm wrestling competition, but goddamn was she gifted with a cue.
She discovered her talent in her junior year of high school when Sarah had challenged her to a game and she'd accepted. She'd never played a game of pool in her life, but how hard could it be? She understood the rules, not to mention she had a strong grasp of the geometry involved. Apparently that was more than enough and she found herself crushing all those who opposed her, earning herself a bit of a reputation.
She watches as Sarah pushes her way through the quickly-filling bar to order them both another round of drinks. It's Friday night and even though it's still quite early, people are starting to flood in to kick off their weekend. She decides to ready herself for another game once Sarah returns and so she begins the process of gathering up all of the balls.
"Hey, Dreads."
She looks up to find a tall, dark-haired boy standing next to her with a chiseled jawline and obnoxious grin that she can only assume is meant to be charming. He's the typical pretty boy she's seen around campus and he's probably used to making girls stop dead in their tracks, but luckily for her, the queerness inside is just too strong.
"Can I help you?" she asks, unenthused.
Instead of granting him her undivided attention, she works her way around the table and continues setting up for her next game against Sarah. Once she's gathered all of the balls into the triangle rack and she's certain that it's centered, she removes the rack and puts it away.
"The news around town is that you're a real hotshot with a cue," the irritating boy continues, following closely behind.
"Must be a slow news day," she deadpans.
She expects him to turn and leave since any moderately-observant individual would have been able to pick up on her indifference by now, but the boy decides to linger and press on with his slow but effective method of ruining her evening.
"So… feel like playing against a real contender?" he proposes.
"No. Not really."
A tiny chuckle pierces the air and Cosima lifts her eyes, shifting her gaze from the boy to the blonde who's sitting at a nearby table with an amused expression stretched across her flawless face. Her eyes remain fixed on the blonde for longer than probably appropriate. The blonde is aware of this, as well, an eyebrow arching as she locks eyes with Cosima.
"Why? Afraid you'll lose?"
The irritating boy reels her back into the conversation and she stands up straight, finally acknowledging him fully.
"I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your date," she says, gesturing to the blonde with a nod of her head in the girl's direction.
Without any sort of explanation necessary, Cosima is able to discern what's going on; this guy is trying to put on a show for his girlfriend and prove how manly he really is in the hopes of getting laid tonight. She's seen the "macho-man" method at work many times and she wonders how girls fall for it—especially a girl like this who seems far out of his league.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," he shrugs. "I'm a big boy."
Her eyes rake over the blonde once more and something in her stomach flips.
"Well, there's an empty table over there, Big Boy," she says, pointing to a free one. "So… buh-bye."
She turns her back and tries to distance herself from him, only he catches her by the arm before she has a chance to get too far.
"If you're that confident, why don't you play me?" he challenges.
"Because I'm playing with my friend," she snaps back, pulling herself free from his grasp. "And you're being a dick."
"And where is your friend?"
"Buying me a drink."
She points to Sarah, now making her way back over to them with drinks in hand.
"Ah," he nods. "Well, she can join us. We can all play together—get to know each other. Two fine ladies such as yourselves shouldn't be hanging here all alone."
Cosima sighs angrily.
"We're not alone—hence the whole "togetherness" part."
For the third time, she finds her gaze drawn to the blonde at the nearby table, legs crossed and chin resting upon her hand as she watches the exchange with eyes that flicker like flames in a fire pit.
"What's going on here?" Sarah asks.
"I was just challenging your friend to a game. She doesn't seem interested."
"That's because I'm not."
Sarah smirks as she hands Cosima her drink.
"Come on, Cos."
"Yeah, Cos. Listen to your friend," he chimes in.
Cosima frowns, pulling Sarah aside for a brief moment.
"This is supposed to be girl's night," she whispers harshly into her friend's ear.
"Just a quick game. Beat his ass and then we can get back to it, yeah?" Sarah suggests. "I wanna see you crush his ego."
Cosima pauses to consider Sarah's words. The offer does sound rather tempting, but the idea of giving this guy exactly what he wants also makes her want to retch. And what about the blonde? Is she going to continue staring her down for the duration of the evening? How is she supposed to perform when she has a pair of hazel eyes burning a hole into her back?
"I'll even buy you a drink if you manage to beat me," he adds, attempting to persuade her even further.
"I already have a drink."
Suddenly, the blonde rises from her seat and makes her way over to the three, all eyes on her. Her heels click with each step, black cocktail dress hugging her curves tightly with each sway of her hips. She wraps herself around the his arm, giving it a gentle tug.
"She says she doesn't want to play, Paul," the blonde speaks, the touch of an accent shining through. "Let's leave her be."
He scoffs.
"Fine. Whatever."
Just as the couple turn to abandon his pursuit, something deep within the dreadlocked girl forces her to cry out and draw him back in.
"Hold up!"
They stop, turning around to face her again. The boy—Paul—looks utterly confused, but the blonde is wearing a knowing smirk, as if she's successfully steered the evening back into her favour.
Cosima grabs a spare cue, tossing it over to Paul who manages to catch it with ease.
"Game on."
Although it isn't much of a game.
She had been worried that the blonde's searing gaze would affect her ability to play, though if anything, she finds the fire at her back to be highly motivating and demolishes the arrogant tool in record time. She remains focused even as the blonde circles around the table like some dark creature of the night stalking its prey. Sarah is snickering as Cosima sinks the eight ball into one of the side pockets and lifts her gaze to drink in Paul's mortified expression.
"Gin and tonic," she says, patting him on the back. "Double lime."
Without another word, Paul stomps away to the bar to make good on his promise.
"See? Tell me that wasn't worth it," Sarah laughs, nudging her friend lovingly.
It is.
Especially when she sees how delighted the blonde looks.
"You probably shouldn't look so pleased," Cosima tells her.
The blonde cocks her head to the side.
"And why is that?" she asks, still grinning.
"Well, right now you should be stroking your boyfriend's fragile ego before he shrivels up like a prune."
The blonde laughs, throwing her head back.
"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," she declares rather adamantly.
And in her declaration there's a release of sparks that travel through the air between them. They must be visible because even Sarah takes note, turning to Cosima with an arched brow and crooked smirk as the evening quickly begins to derail into an unexpected direction.
"Thank God for that," Sarah proclaims. "You can do much better, Blondie."
Hazel eyes lock with amber ones.
"Yes. That's true."
There's a thick silence between the two—a silence that's interrupted by Paul's undesired return.
"Here's your drink," he huffs, nearly shoving the glass into Cosima's hand.
And in that moment, the pool shark is thankful that her best friend is both highly observant and quick on her feet; sensing the mounting tension in the air between the two girls, Sarah decides to take matters into her own hand and gift her friend with a little privacy.
"Where's mine?" she snaps at Paul.
"Uh… what?"
She slaps him on the arm, nearly making him spill his beer.
"You gonna buy my friend a drink and just piss on me?"
"Huh?"
She grabs his wrist, dragging him back over to the bar.
"Come on."
As Sarah drags him away, she turns back to give Cosima an approving nod. Cosima beams—she'll have to remember to thank Sarah later and she's pretty sure another drink isn't going to cut it.
"You up for another game?"
The blonde is leaning against the pool table with a half-cocked grin, her eyebrows raised as she regards Cosima with a growing curiosity.
Cosima chuckles.
"I don't think he can take it," she remarks, sipping her drink.
"What about me?"
The brunette nearly chokes on her gin and tonic as the words leave the blonde's mouth. The smirking blonde makes her way around the table to close the distance between them, slipping dangerously close for a complete stranger. She reaches toward Cosima, plucking one of the limes off the edge of the glass and bringing it to her lips, taking a bite of the fruit.
"Think you can take me?" she challenges, never flinching.
Cosima sets her drink down, at a loss for words for the first time in her short life.
"I… uh… y-you know how to play?" she stammers.
The blonde laughs.
"Of course I do," she retorts, discarding the lime into an empty, abandoned glass on a nearby table.
She grabs Cosima's cue.
"Do you really think I'd challenge you if I didn't?"
"Sorry. I just thought—I really shouldn't make assumptions."
"No, you shouldn't."
The two lock eyes again as the blonde begins to chalk her cue. Cosima fishes for the other one, grabbing the chalk from the blonde once she's finished with it. As she prepares herself mentally for the challenge ahead of her, the blonde gathers all of the balls and centers them with the rack. Once they're both satisfied with their preparations, Cosima exhales a deep breath.
"You break?" she offers.
The blonde smiles, leaning over the table in an over exaggerated manner, making sure the spectacled girl has a clear view of her ass. Cosima takes the bait, her eyes drawn to her opponent's curves as the blonde thrusts her cue forward with a strong and precise stroke, breaking the formation.
"Solids," she declares, working her way around the table to scope out her best shot.
Cosima watches with parted lips as the blonde sinks another shot effortlessly.
"So," she husks, tucking a few stray curls of golden silk behind her ear. "What do I get when I win?"