The first thing he became aware of was the butter yellow florescent lights that buzzed overhead, casting an almost sickly glow to the entire place. The second thing he noticed was the cracked and peeling linoleum that appeared to be so old the design of it had faded into oblivion. It drew his eyes to the aging booths that stood along the dust frosted windows, their vinyl seats more patches than actual vinyl anymore. The aroma of stale coffee and grease drew his eyes to the other side where a diner counter sat. The stools were just as patched as the booths and the laminate countertop was worn down to the absolute bones of itself.
It was here that his feet moved him, sat him in a chair directly in the center of the counter though he had never been here and had no recollection of arriving. It certainly wasn't a diner he would have frequented at any point in his life, of that he was certain.
"What's your poison?" A voice that called to his very being drew his attention up behind the counter where a waitress had appeared. His golden brown hair was braided back but a few strands had escaped to frame her sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. Her grayish blue eyes were guarded and stood over heavy bags that someone that looked so young shouldn't have had. Even her very ugly brown waitress uniform and apron showed where she should have had curves and fat, but all that was there was a half starved scrawny body. But despite all of that, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever been Cauldron Blessed to lay eyes on.
"What's your name, Darling?" He was happy to hear it come out as smooth as he planned, rather than the desperate begging he felt like doing. Mother above, who was this woman?
"I don't see how that will help you order," she said flatly. "What's your poison?" She drawled again.
"Coffee, black," he said the first thing that came to mind despite the fact he actually didn't like his coffee black at all. Usually he had a dry cappuccino with just a little sugar to take away some of the bitter taste of espresso, but he doubted they would have that in a place like this, and he was very certain the waitress would just laugh at him. But he was happy to watch her as she fished out a chipped mug from under the aging counter and poured strong smelling coffee into it for him.
"So what brings you to this dump? Don't you have some fancy chain café to doodle little designs in your coffee?" She shot at him, wit and sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Sadly, they all are closed at the moment," he told her. "So you're just stuck with me." She simply rolled her eyes in response.
The barbed comments and questions kept being traded as he drank cup after cup of that horrid and bitter coffee, as she watched him hide his cringe through each sip with a knowing smirk. He stayed there chatting with the beautiful waitress until the harsh sunlight of dawn started to make the inside of the diner glow through the dirt covered windows, revealing the cracked pavement and crumbling brick buildings beyond.
"I think you're supposed to go now," she told him when his gaze came back to her.
"But I never got your name, Darling," he told her, leaning just a bit across the counter.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "I know."
The incessant ringing of his phone made the image of the beautiful waitress dissolve into his nightstand and the too bright window beyond it. With a groan, Rhysand Night, Senator of Prythian, dragged himself from his bed. It had been a dream. That beautiful waitress and her diner had been a dream. And yet, his breath smelled of that horrible coffee as if he had spent all night drinking it at her counter. His phone began ringing again.
"What?" He snapped into the receiver when he saw the name on the screen.
"Good morning to you too, Sunshine," came the response. Cassian. The man had pretty much been his brother alongside another, Azriel, since they had been preteens. They, and his second cousin, Morrigan, were his only remaining family.
"What?" He snapped again. He was not in a mood to deal with Cassian's bullshit.
"Figured I'd ask if you were coming into the office today," came the response with a shrug. "Or did I get up for nothing today?"
Rhys groaned. Right, it wasn't a weekend. He was supposed to be getting up and going to the capitol building to meet with the other Senators. They had things to discuss, bills to look at, arguments to have. He had things to do and now he was late if Cassian was already complaining about having gotten up for nothing.
With a sigh he rolled out of bed and set about getting ready. The beautiful waitress stayed on his mind as he showered, shaved, and dressed. Did it matter he hadn't gotten her name? He wasn't sure. It was a dream, right? But she stayed on his mind as they got into the car and stopped to pick up breakfast at the local café he frequented.
"Your usual, Senator?" The barista asked upon seeing him.
"Actually, a large coffee, black," he told her, unsure of what was possessing him to do so. But a smirk that flashed in his mind's eye told him somehow it was to impress the dream waitress that certainly didn't exist. Even as Cassian stared at him while he drank.
By the end of his work day, he was convinced he should just name the dream waitress himself. It was his dream after all. But no name seemed to fit the woman and even then something seemed strange about it being just a dream. Shouldn't he have fantasized about some beautiful super model fawning over him rather than some sarcastic, worn young woman that saw one too many bad days? Why was she the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on? And yet, even as his mind created the image of her, he was still certain that she was.
And when he went to sleep that night and found himself standing in that run down diner once more, Rhys found himself with one mission only. Get the waitress' name.
"You again," came the snort from behind the counter. Rhys smirked in her direction.
"I never got your name, Darling," he told her as he sat down. "Coffee, black."
But he woke up the next morning without learning her name once more. It nearly drove him insane as he tried, in vain, to try to name her himself.
Every night he dreamed of her. That same diner. The same ugly uniform. The same horrible coffee. Every night he dreamed of sitting at that counter and she seemed to remember him too, from every night he spent with her. Every night he went in with the goal of trying to get her name and every morning he woke without knowing it.
Slowly their talk turned from snappy remarks and comebacks to delving a little deeper. He told her about himself. Not about his career which most people assumed was all there was to him, but about his family. He told her about his brothers and Mor. He told her about his mother and little sister dying when he had been twenty from an angry man storming the capitol building and shooting into his father's office where they had been visiting. He told her about his father dying in a car accident only a couple years later and his suspicions that it hadn't entirely been an accident. He told her about his abusive ex-girlfriend that had nearly driven him to the point of suicide to escape her.
In turn she told him about herself. Her mother had died of cancer when she had been eight. Her father had died of alcoholism only six years after that. She and her two older sisters had stayed together for two years until her father's debts had caught up to them. Her sisters, both older, had left then. Planning to outrun the debtors, thinking the debt collectors would leave a sixteen year old alone, they had abandoned her. Nesta and Elain, she gave their names over easily but never her own.
The debt collectors hadn't left her alone and soon she had dropped out of high school to work full time as a waitress, the only job she had been able to get. So she worked long hours to pay off her father's debts though she had dreams of one day being able to afford paints and paper to paint on and maybe have some time to pursue her interest in art. It was such a simple hope that had Rhys waking the morning after hearing it wanting to find some way to get her the supplies she needed, but it was impossible.
The more he met with his dream waitress, the more the scars of the bad of his life healed over and the more he wanted to find this waitress and do the same for her. But he couldn't help her. He didn't even know her name.
"Rhys, brother, you got a moment?" Cassian's voice drew him from his thoughts at his desk.
"Sure, what can I do for you?" He asked. His brother never asked for anything, even after accepting the crappy full time job of making sure Rhys was safe.
"So I've been seeing this girl," Cassian started as he took a seat. At that, he had Rhys' undivided attention. Cassian never spoke about any of the girl's he was seeing. In fact, he normally only saw them for a couple of dates before they broke it off. "I really like her and I want the family to meet her. So I was hoping you'd be willing to host a small, casual dinner at your house?"
"Why not your apartment?" Rhys asked. "You didn't tell her you lived with me, did you?"
"No. She's been to my apartment. But it's a little cramped to have everyone and she wanted to invite her sister to come as well. She hardly leaves her younger sister to go to work." He sighed. "And I was hoping that maybe I could introduce her sister to Az."
"What? No sister for me?" Rhys teased.
"You have no problem finding women. Az is too much of a recluse to find a girl for himself," Cassian scoffed. "So please?"
"Fine. I'll host. When?" Rhys reached for his calendar.
"Tonight?" Cassian asked sheepishly, shifting in his chair ever so slightly.
"You've already invited the others, haven't you?" Rhys couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "Fine."
"Good, Mor is bringing the wine and Az the scotch," Cassian clapped his hands together. "And I told Nuala and Cerridwen about it last week so they are well prepared."
"Last week? And you didn't think to talk to me until today?" Rhys demanded.
"You've been a bit preoccupied, brother," he sighed. "Are you ever going to introduce us to your girl?"
"Do I ever go anywhere that makes you think I'm taking a girl out?" Rhys demanded. While he was sure his brother would understand he wasn't completely insane if he told Cassian the truth, he doubted Cassian be able to fully comprehend the dream girl.
"No, unless you are endangering yourself and sneaking out," Cassian frowned at him.
"I'm not sneaking out," Rhys rolled his eyes.
"Fine, but I know that look you get. If you're internet dating to avoid going out, be careful." Cassian sighed.
The night dressed in a comfortable sweater and jeans he stood at the door alongside Mor and Azriel to meet Cassian's girlfriend and sister as he pulled into the driveway. Cassian cleared the steps into his townhouse first followed by a woman that made Rhys' heart race. She looked… just like his waitress, but sharper, colder. Her gray blue eyes were the exact same shade. Her golden brown hair had the exact shine. The same sharp cheek bones and pointed chin. The same except for the utter coldness that seemed to fill her entire being. His waitress was guarded, but not cold. And if that woman was ice, the one that came behind was all light. Her golden brown hair, also the same shade, but her features were softer and her big doe eyes a soft brown.
"My girlfriend Nesta and her sister Elain," Cassian introduced. "And this is my family." He started listing off everyone but Rhys wasn't listening much.
It couldn't be a coincidence. They looked like her and they had the same names as she claimed her sisters had. How many people were named Nesta? How many sisters had the names Nesta and Elain? How many looked just like her?
"Do you have another sister?" Rhys blurted out. "A few years younger perhaps?"
Nesta's cold eyes narrowed on him and Elain whipped around from where she had been speaking to Azriel and Mor. Cassian's eyes went wide.
"Excuse me?" She growled.
"I've seen someone that looked a lot like you before, but I never caught her name," Rhys tried to sound casual.
"Listen, if you saw her as a stripper or whore on the side of the road then leave it alone," Nesta snapped.
"Nesta," Elain admonished. "Our younger sister has made some poor choices in life and we cut ties with her long ago. We are sorry if she offended you somehow."
"What's your sister's name?" Rhys asked once more.
"It doesn't matter," Nesta snapped. "Now let's get this dinner over with."
The rest of dinner was tense. Nesta sat at the head of the table as if presiding over a court while Rhys found himself wishing for the ability to rip into her mind to get the answers. They had a sister, one they didn't speak to. What was her name? Where was she? It had to be his waitress. It had to be.
He tried once more before they left after dinner and dessert but one cold look from Nesta and a confused look from Cassian had him stopping short as Cassian steered the witch and her sister out.
"Feyre." His brother, Azriel, spoke at his side while he swirled scotch in a tumbler.
"Excuse me?" Rhys turned to look at his brother.
"Her name is Feyre and Elain last knew she was somewhere in the Slip." Azriel met his eyes, a silent question there while Rhys cursed out loud. He should have known.
The Slip was the nickname of an over industrialized piece of land at the bottom of Prythian. It was the place many of the production businesses liked to stash their factories. The air was polluted, the water poisoned, the entire place was in shambles. For the people living there, life was bleak and most died of preventable causes. Rhys had tried again and again to make his fellow senators look that way when enacting changes, but too many of them were lining their pockets with money from those corporations. And now that was where his waitress, his Feyre, was.
The name itself settled something deep in his bones and tugged at his very being the way her voice had. She was real. She existed. And she was in the Slip.
"What does it matter to you, Rhys?" Azriel asked. "Who is she to you?"
"Not tonight," Rhys managed to reply. "Ask me tomorrow." He was too busy to explain now. Too busy calculating just how long it would take him to drive to the Slip. It was almost ten at night and it would take him nearly four hours to get there, but they had always met at night in his dreams. Perhaps she worked at night. And there was the little matter of him not knowing where she was exactly. He didn't know the name of the diner or where in the Slip it was, but he would sort that out when he got there.
"Rhys? Where are you going?" Azriel demanded and Rhys realized he already had his keys in hand and was halfway out the door.
"To chase a dream," he called back.
He didn't play music in his car as he sped down the freeway. He let his mind keep him company, replaying every night they had met together in his head. He stopped only twice. Once for coffee (black) to keep him going, and once at a 24 hour store to buy whatever art supplies they had on hand. If he was going to meet his dream waitress, his Feyre, he wouldn't show up empty handed.
Then when the air was thick with the smog of the Slip, Rhys asked his GPS to locate all 24 hour diners in a fifty mile radius. It wasn't a surprise there were quite a few. The factories ran nonstop so workers likely filtered in and out at all odd hours. So he selected the first one on the list and started there.
It was dawn when he recognized the cracked pavement and the crumbling brick buildings of the street he drove on. Dawn when he saw the diner that he just knew she was inside of after checking sixteen others. Dawn when he parked his far too expensive car in front of the diner, drawing the attention from people on the street and from the haggard men sitting at the booths that looked out the dirt stained windows. Dawn as he entered the diner with his gift bag of art supplies in hand.
And there she was. Standing at the counter, her golden brown hair in its limp braid down her back, her gray blue eyes weary and worn from a long shift, from a lifetime of long shifts, her ugly brown waitress dress hanging on her body showing where she needed weight. Every detail the dreams had showed him was an absolute perfect rendering of the woman in front of him. She turned her eyes towards him after a moment and something sparked in them like recognition and shock.
Rhys offered her one of his trademark smiles and held up the bag. "There you are, Darling. I've been looking for you."
A/N: All comments are appreciated. All stories are cross posted on AO3 (in case the text breaks again and you don't want to wait for me to have a free moment to fix it).