The night concealed Brennan as she walked down the residential neighborhood, bundled up in her tattered jacket. She could no longer feel her toes and her muscles were sore from pointlessly trying to contain her incessant shivering. Ahead, Brennan could see the incandescent glow of a gas station and she mentally sighed in relief. She had been walking for nearly 2 hours, trying to find somewhere with a payphone. Her clunker of a car had decided that it was empty; Brennan never knew when her car was empty since the censor broke somewhere in Nevada. Apparently fate has decided Finley, Washington is where she is to find her safe haven, and after Brennan's journey, she is just relieved to find somewhere she might not have to look over her shoulder for the rest of her life. Her feet began to drag and her legs began to cramp just as her sneaker-clad feet shifted from tar to cement.
"Thank god," Brennan muttered as she pushed open the door to the heated oasis. Her nose, fingers, and toes tingled as the cold dispelled and the heat washed over her. Her eyes shifted to the side and landed on a slender man, but she could easily make out the muscles under his black tee-shirt and faded jeans. His feet were propped up on the counter and his face was hidden behind a local newspaper. The oscillating fan behind him pointed towards her and brought a scent that startled her, a scent that was not human.
Her voice quivered as she meekly asked where the restrooms were. He never dropped the paper and answered gruffly, "Back left of the store, ma'am." A hint of his southern accent slipped through, and calmed Brennan enough that she was able to walk to the bathroom instead of running.
Inside the women's restroom, Brennan was able to breathe through whatever anxiety she was feeling and slow her heart rate. She splashed the cool tap water over her face and on the back of her neck. She was absolutely shocked to already find someone inhuman. Being half fae gave her a bit more active instincts, and the past week has taught her to trust them. She couldn't quite tell what he was, and she didn't have much experience around fae to decide, but she did know that he wasn't exactly like her. Was he a full fae or is there something else her mother left out? The questions ran through her head and caused her anxiety to creep back up on her. She repeated her process from earlier before she walked back out to the front of the store.
She wandered the store before she located the payphone, and quickly inserted her quarters and dialed the first tow truck company she came across. The conversation wasn't too long, but it did last long enough for her to feel like the clerk was staring. After giving all the pertinent information to the tow company, Brennan grabbed a soda and a random candy bar before walking to the front. She might as well buy something now, while she is waiting for the tow truck to pick her up.
"Is that all?" the clerk, Warren according to his name tag, asked. Brennan nodded and pulled out a few bills from her back pocket.
"Stranded?" Warren prodded, hoping to gather any information from this woman to give back to Mercy and Zee. It is not often that a half fae walks into the Stop and Rob, and certainly not one that smelt like Tad. He let his southern accent slip through as he tried to sound laid-back. It seemed to work as he noticed her shoulders relax and her eye widen from the barely noticeable glare.
"Just a bit, but I have it covered," Brennan answered, trying to keep the fear out of her voice and unconsciously letting her own southern accent out. The consequences of being raised in Texas is whenever you hear one, your accent always shows.
"Are you from the south also?" Warren questioned, still trying to gather whatever information that he could.
Brennan's eyes narrowed once again, and simply answered, "Yes, Texas," before walking outside to wait for the tow truck. After a considerable wait, with most of it trying to slyly stay out of eyesight of the clerk inside, the tow truck showed up and took Brennan to her car and onward to the cheapest motel.
The motel was exactly what she paid for – cheap. The walls were dingy and held the smell of thirty years of visitors. Fortunately the bedding seemed to be relatively clean, which was enough for Brennan. She lugged the few bags that she had in her car inside and proceeded to go take a long hot shower, stripping off her clothes as she went. After coming out refreshed, or as clean as you could get from that shower, Brennan pulled out her old laptop and set it up on the small table by the window. After searching for a while, she managed to find her phone cable to plug into the old-looking dial-up jack. The news was playing in the background on a 1980s, wooden paneled TV set, and the heater was rattling as it tried to keep the chill away. Brennan took a small break from searching for a job online to stare outside. She was finally alone and the paranoia was inching away, leaving her with her thoughts for the night.
The next day, Brennan was up at the break of dawn, and walked to the nearest gas station to purchase a gas can and some fuel. The next few hours were spent searching for any type of employment. By mid-afternoon, she was running out of options and presumably on gas. Her last stop before heading back to the motel was a small mom-and-pop diner right next the Kennewick hospital. A sign in the window proclaimed "Help Wanted" and she was desperate. The smell of grease and coffee wafted into her face when she opened the door and she was greeted by a kind face.
"Good afternoon, just one?" The woman asked, her wrinkles more evident when she smiled.
"Uh sure," Brennan answered, sitting at a small booth. "May I have glass of water and some pancakes, please?" Her southern manners came out without hesitation. She knew most northerners were uneasy with it, believing that she was just being pretentious.
"Yeah, sure. Anything else?" The woman took it better than most, and didn't make a snide remark, which left Brennan grateful. She asked for a application and waited while the woman went to get it.
"Here you go. Just hand it back to me when you're done and I'll see about getting you an interview with the bossman." The woman, Victoria as her tag on her black apron proclaimed, placed the paper down, along with a pen, pancakes and a fork. Brennan smiled her gratitude and began to work, ignoring the stack of fluffy goodness not even six inches away.
Brennan may have fibbed on a few things on the application, but hopefully her eagerness to work would bode well for her. She handed Victoria the papers back and dug into her food, hoping to eat away her worries. Not even 10 minutes later, a stocky man in tan trousers and black tee-shirt with the logo of the diner walked up to her table. He introduced himself as Jack, the manager and son of the owner. He sat down and began a long interview, full of boring, pointless questions. It wasn't until the end that Brennan really hit a snag.
"Well, Ms. Boone, I see you had a few years of experience back in your teens at your local diner in Texas. Everything seems to be good, but it looks like you left the Fae Identifier unchecked. For legal reasons we must have that, so could you just mark it as Not Applicable and we can get you started in training." Jack slid the paper across the table along with a pen from is pocket. Brennan hesitated, knowing that it was either eat for the week and be "human" or she can be honest and be without a job. She stared at the page for a few seconds before gabbing the pen and marking the box that stated "N/A."
"Great, Brennan, let's go ahead and file the paperwork and get you an apron. We want you working as quickly as possible."
"Sure thing," Brennan stated as she climbed out of the booth. Before Jack could turn away, she grabbed his arm and his attention. "Thank you, Jack. This really means a lot."
"Its no problem, Brennan, I'm sure you'll make me proud." He said with a small smile.
Maybe this would be easier than Brennan thought. Maybe she could find peace and safety in the world. She could finally quit running from her past, and set herself up in the background. All she wanted was to just live, nothing too crazy or extravagant. Brennan just wanted to make it to next week. She glanced around her new job for a brief second, noticing the fading laminate flooring and the aged walls. Very few updates had been made to bring it from the late seventies to the early 2000s,but she could tell most of the seats had been reupholstered and the wall-hangings were new-ish. Whatever it looked like didn't matter to her, all that mattered was that she would be walking out with some form of money and wouldn't be fired within the first week. As she followed Jack to the back office, the bell above the door chimed. Brennan didn't know why her eyes immediately went to the door, be it paranoia or something other-worldly, but she did and her breathe caught in her throat. The man was tall, much taller than her own meager five-foot-four stature. His body was muscled, and taut. His scrubs were pulled tightly over his chest and arms to the point that she fear for the poor thread holding it together. His skin was smooth and had a slight sun-kissed glow, his face was beautiful in its own way. It didn't look like it went together, but because of that it was perfect. His hair was shaggy and a rich brown. He smiled at Victoria as she greeted him like an old friend, apparently he came in often.
"Come on in, Brennan," Jack said, pulling her attention from the man at the door and back to himself.
"Oh yeah, sorry." Brennan apologized, and walked in, but the man never left her thoughts and she had to force herself through the paper work and small talk. By the time she walked out, he was already gone.