Like a Monkey With a Miniature Cymbal (Over and Over), an orphan black fanfic

AN: Quick warning for character death even though it doesn't stick.

Crawling into bed, her mind clouded, fuzzy with alcohol wasn't a rare occurrence. The days were long and nights spent alone were longer. Something needed to change. She needed to change.

The day started the way that most of them tended to. Angie was woken by her alarm blaring, slamming the off button as she forced herself to sit upright, a not-quite-a-hangover weighing heavily in her head and stomach. It was nothing that she hadn't dealt with before, nothing that coffee and some warm food couldn't solve.

Wrenching herself out of bed she made her way towards her small kitchen, checking the time as she went. Guess no time for food, there'd be time to get something later. Probably. Grabbing a travel mug she filled it with instant coffee, picking her phone up from where she'd left it, on the counter.

No new messages

Not that there were ever any Art was too busy with the rookie, and if there was a real emergency someone would actually phone her.

She was late by the time she got to the station, having stopped for some decent coffee on her way; it's not like anyone would notice. Everyone one too busy with their own shit to notice one late detective.

"You're late, Deangelis." So maybe someone did notice, huh.

"What's it to you, Art?"

"We need your help." We referred to Beth Childs, the rookie.

"Rookie not pulling her weight?"

Art shook his head with a smirk. "She still can't get the hang of the paperwork."

"Still? Really?" Angie asked, her eyebrow raised.

"She needs some help." That was the third time since Beth had started working at the precinct less than a month ago that she'd needed help.

"That's a shame."

"Need you to talk her through it."

Angie shook her head. "Not a chance, Art."

"Just, please, Angie." Art pleaded. "I've still got to close up the Thompson thing. You know you got the time."

Angie sighed, her head lolling to her chest. She'd been stuck on desk duty for the past couple of weeks and everyone knew it. "Fine." Not like she had anything better to do. "Fine."

Beth worked quietly, for the most part, there was the occasional question but she didn't try to make small talk after the first polite, if half-hearted attempt to instigate conversation. In the short space of time that Beth had been working with them they hadn't exactly spent any time together outside of the four walls of the station; any contact they had had had been fleeting a word here, a question there. Angie kept her head down, too, eyes on the work in front of her. It was easier to ignore her that way. There were worst ways she could be spending her days than baby-sitting the rookie. Again.

She sighed, pushing her hand through her hair as she stood from the table that the two of them had been working at in the briefing room. She needed coffee. Beth was a big girl, she could take care of herself for two seconds. The break room was mercifully.

With a mug of whatever it was that passed for coffee at the station in hand she moved back towards the room where Beth was still working her way through the ridiculous amount of paperwork that seemed to tower over them.

"I didn't want anything but thanks for the offer." Beth huffed as Angie sat opposite her once more. They didn't talk after that. Beth had no more questions and Angie could have been alone, a pin dropping would be loud compared to thee sporadic scratches of pen on paper that filled the air between them.

"You know what." Beth said, planting her hands on the table as she pushed herself up. "It's time for lunch, I'll see you in an hour." Before stalking out of the room.

Angie sighed, leaning back in her chair as she gave up the pretence of work. Beth wasn't that bad, not really, but she was young, enthusiastic. It was exhausting to be around sometimes when Angie couldn't even remember what that felt like. She enjoyed her job, wouldn't want to be doing anything else; but the shine had worn off a long time ago.

They worked in suffocating silence after that.

It was just about time to go home when Art came striding into the room, "Strap up, both of you." He said drawing both of the women's attention to him, "We got a lead."

The lead was tenuous at best; but then again so had so many before. It may only have been a thread but unravelling couldn't hurt.

They had a warrant to enter the ostensibly abandoned property, a warehouse. The building was earmarked for demolition in the near future, and the owner had given them the green light without a fight. Lit only through the fading light of the sun filtering through the windows high on the wall it could still clearly been seen that the building itself was in slight disrepair, paint peeling, blooms of damp starting to appear on the walls and ceilings, in the way they will when the rooms aren't heated or cared for.

They swept the main room quickly, the open space leaving nowhere for anything to hide before moving on to the warren of offices at the end of the property. They kept their weapons in their holsters they worked their way along the corridor in a tight formation, Beth leading them with her flash-light, as they checked the empty offices for anything that could help them.

Beth raised her hand, motioning for them to stop. "Can you guys hear that?" Beth's voice broke the silence between them.

Angie strained to hear whatever it was that Beth heard before shaking her head.

"There's nothing here, Beth." Art replied.

"I think it was coming from…" Beth continued, nodding towards one of the offices up ahead, her hand coming to rest on her sidearm. "I'm just going to take a look."

She walked on ahead of them, her shoulders tense, hand still planted on her weapon as she rounded the door.

The offices themselves were clusters of interconnected rooms, only one of which had access to the main corridor in a way that was probably against the fire code. Beth lea the way slowly through the first of the rooms slowly. "See." She said, turning towards Angie and Art once again do you hear that?"

Voices. The sound of two, maybe three people talking filtered through the air.

"It's probably nothing." Art replied. "Probably people just looking for a place to sleep." A lot of the other buildings in the area had been cleared out recently, there was no reason that this one should be any different. "Nothing we're interested in. Let's keep moving."

"It's…" Beth shook her head as she kept moving towards the voices. They followed after her, caution shading their every move.

"Police! Stay where you are!" Beth proclaimed rounding the corner, Art and Angie close behind her. There were two men standing around a desk at the opposite end of the room, the door way was narrow, there was no way that whoever it was could get past the three of them. "Hands where we can see them."

Angie breathed a small sigh of relief when it looked they were going to comply without a fuss, but then the man closest to the desk reached forwards, hand grasping at the handgun on the surface in front of him, raising it quickly.

"Childs! Get down!" Art roared.

A gun shot rang out. Then another. Another. Time froze.

The shot hit its mark. Beth fell, slumped against the wall.

"Beth!" The word ripped from Angie's throat of its own volition as she stumbled towards Beth. So much blood.

Angie kneeled next to Beth's prone form, blood from two wounds already soaking her blouse. She called dispatch, hands hovered over her body as she assessed the wounds before pressing them firmly onto the wound on her abdomen. It was low down, almost at her hip but it was likely that the bullet had caused some damage to Beth's organs.

"Shit." Beth groaned, startling Angie.

"Hey, hey, hey." Angie chastised as Beth tried to reach a hand up to staunch the flow of blood from the wound on her shoulder. "Don't try and move."

"It hurts."

"Yeah, no shit." Angie exhaled as she heard faint sirens approaching, pressing her hands down harder as she stared at them, as if sheer will could stop her from bleeding out. "Help's almost here, you just need to… just don't die."

Beth choked on a harsh laugh as her eyes began to droop. "Don't think tha's my call."

So much blood. How much blood can someone lose?

"Hey, hey. Beth? Keep your eyes open."

"I'm tired."

"I know but you have to keep your eyes open for me."

"m'kay." Beth's eyes fluttered before re-opening, glassy as they tried to focus on Angie. "Why are you doing this? You don't like me."

"Doesn't mean I want you dead."

Angie could see the flashing lights outside the window filling the room with blue light, the last of the evening sun barely visible. The sirens echoed around her. Beth eyes rolled back.

"Angie! Move!" Art's voice startled her as his hand landed on her shoulder, jerking her back.

"What the hell, Art!" She was trying to save her. She turned back but stopped, wrapping her arms around her middle when she saw the paramedic crouched over Beth.

Art came to stand next to her, both of them standing in silent vigil as the paramedics worked.

"Did you catch him?" Angie asked, her voice breaking.

"No." There was no question who she meant.

Beth was loaded into the back of an ambulance with an air of futile urgency. Both Angie and Art made to join her, but as their eyes met Angie stopped, letting Art climb into the back of the ambulance in her place.

Like Beth had said, they weren't friends. "You don't like me."

Angie stood, once again wrapping her arms around her middle as the ambulance pulled away. Her eyes stayed locked on the flashing lights until they were out of sight.

The phone call she received from Art barely half an hour later, just as she reached the door to her apartment, came as no surprise.

"It's Beth… She."

She didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence, opening the front door instead.

She didn't turn on the light, heading straight to the bathroom. She could still feel Beth's blood on her hands.

She closed as her eyes as moved into the room, turning on the shower before bracing her hands on the sink basin as she sighed. She turned away from it as she opened her eyes, afraid what she might see staring back at her.

She was methodical as she removed her clothes, slow, as if that would stop her from falling apart.

She the blouse felt heavy in her hands, she ran her fingers over the hand shape smears of blood that stretched across her middle, some points so saturated that the blood had stained the skin below.

Crawling under the stream of warm water Angie waited for the day to wash away, scrubbing at her skin as she watched the blood, Beth's blood flow away with the water.

She could still feel it on her long after any trace was gone.

She moved on auto-pilot through her apartment, going through the motions as she went through her night-time routine before searching her kitchen cupboards for anything that could help.

The whiskey had burned her throat at first. That had stopped after the fourth, or maybe the fifth leaving behind a warm numbness. The edges of the day blurring as she slumped on her couch.

There's nothing I could have done.

The thought kept running through her head on repeat, sounding more and more like a lie each time despite its truth. Beth was young, younger than her. She'd barely just made detective.

There's nothing I could have done and now she's dead.

Waking up in her bed was a surprise, she could have sworn she'd collapsed on the couch the night before; but it wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up somewhere unexpected. Rolling out of bed she worked her way through to the kitchen, looking for some aspirin, the hangover was nowhere near as bad as it could have been, the numbness found at the bottom of the bottle not enough to rid her of the weight of Beth's body cradled close, not enough to banish the sight of her hands stained red. Her tolerance for the stuff must have increased; endless nights in the bar down the street from her apartment could attest to that.

No New Messages.

Huh. She may have told people to leave her alone but normally Art ignored her and checked up on her anyway. Late again. It's not like they were going to begrudge her that, not after yesterday. They'd offered her the day off butAngie muddled through her morning routine anyway, being alone only lead to trouble.

"You're late, Deangelis."

"Art?"

"What? Were you expecting someone else or something?"

"No I just thought after yesterday that you wouldn't be in today."

"What are you on about, Deangelis?"

Angie was about to reply until she caught sight of Beth, hovering just a little bit far behind Art for it to be casual. "I… it's nothing." What the hell?

"Right, anyway." Art said, still looking at her like he was trying to figure out what was wrong. "We need your help."

Of course you do, because this is yesterday; or maybe yesterday was today? Was all of that a dream?

"Rookie not pulling her weight?"

She'd been here before.

Angie stared as she sat across from Beth in the briefing room, eyes scanning her for any sign of injury. Finding none she sighed in relief.

It had been a dream.

Just a dream.

"Can you guys hear that?"

She'd been here before.

Peeling off her once again blood soaked blouse hours later, Angie then knows it couldn't have been a dream.

When she once again wakes up in her bed it just confirms what she'd already known. She wasn't imagining it.

The blouse that she'd thrown in trash the night before still hung on the hanger on the door of the closet, taunting her.

She rolled out of bed and into the shower, taking her time; it didn't matter, she was just going to be late anyway. The day would go on without her.

A knot tightened in her gut at the sight of Beth once again hovering off just out off to the side of her desk. Catching her eye she threw her a tight smile before sitting at her desk.

"You're late, Deangelis."

Round and round we go.

She watched Beth closely as she worked on the never ending pile of paperwork. Just like the times before neither one of them tried to make conversation.

She brought Beth a coffee back with her from the break room. Placing it next to the paper she was working on, a peace offering. She still had agency, of that much she was sure. She just didn't know how much influence she had. Didn't know how to make a change, change something big,

Beth's lips upturned slightly at the sight of the peace offering.

Well that was new.

"I didn't poison it, you know."

Beth had been staring at the cup since it had been placed before her but eventually she reached for the mug in front of her, taking a cautious sip, wincing at the taste.

"Yeah if it was poisoned it'd taste batter." She laughed. "Who made this?"

Angie shrugged. "The pot was full. It's not normally that bad"

"I usually get mine from the diner across the street." Beth said, placing the mug back down on the desk, rising from her chair. "You want one?"

Angie took a sip from her own mug, grimacing. "Please."

It's not enough.

Not enough to stop anything.

The blood still stains her hand as Beth's breath faltered, as her tenuous grip on life slipped away.

Angie placed the to-go cup on the desk in front of Beth, her eyes fixed on her face as the same small smile as the day before appears. Beth didn't hesitate to reach towards the cup. "Thanks." She said, her eyes catching Angie's as she took a sip. "You got the good stuff." She said, her smile growing with the words.

"Thought we deserved it." Angie said, gesturing to the pile of paper in front of them.

Every day it goes the same way. She argues with Art, he wins, she ends up in the briefing room sat across the table from Beth. Neither of them try to speak, Angie gets coffee, for herself, for Beth too. The silence that hangs isn't always companionable but it isn't exactly awkward either.

"Have I got something on my face?"

Beth's question shakes Angie from her reverie.

"Huh?"

"I said 'have I got something on my face.'" Beth said, "You were staring." Beth continued, her confidence wavering, when Angie didn't respond. "It was a joke." She huffed fiddling with the to-go cup Angie had brought her. Beth was right, the coffee from the diner was good.

"Sorry," Angie exhaled running a hand through her hair as she refocused on her work. "It's just one of those days."

"Yeah, I've had a few of those."

You have no idea.

"Do you want to get some lunch?"

The words left Angie's mouth before the thought is fully formed.

Beth's eyebrow raised at the question, her mouth twisting into a wry smile.

"Sure."

They ended up the diner not far from the precinct, burgers and coffee littering the table in front of them.

Angie couldn't stop staring. Beth had died. Beth had died more than once right in front of her and yet she was sitting right in front of her, but it had been a long time since Angie had believed in miracles.

"Do you want to get some lunch?"

There's a comfort to the alien familiarity of Beth's company.

They'd spent so many days in the station (before), as parallel lines. Never interacting. Never coming closer together; but the thought of suffering a day without her haunted Angie. Her infinite nightmare.

Her reality.

Angie had once read something that said that a traumatic experience brought people together. Bound them in a way that those on the outside couldn't comprehend.

Angie was bound, tethered to the shared experience. Stained by her smiles and her blood.

They (she) were closer, changed irrevocably.

"Maybe we should wear vests? Just in case."

"What the hell you on about, Deangelis?" Art laughed off the suggestion, leading them towards the car.

Angie hesitated, trying to find the words to explain; but how can you tell people that you've lived this before? That you know what's going to happen?

How can you look someone in the eye and tell them they're going to die.

It was a routine call out, the three of them going together was already excessive and Angie knew that she was only with them in the first place because Art was throwing her a bone. She'd been cooped up in the office too long.

There's always so much blood.

Kevlar can't stop a bullet to the head.

She's swimming against the tide. The words get caught in her throat, the warning, and before she knows how she got there everything has happened in exactly the same way it has so many times before.

She's swimming against the tide, but Beth's the one who drowns.

"Do you believe in fate, Beth?" Angie asked, sinking into the booth in the diner. "That everything happens for a reason?"

"You okay, Deangelis?" Beth asked in reply, her eyebrow raised.

"It's just a question."

Beth took a long sip from her drink.

"No." She replied after a moment, fiddling with her mug. "I like to think that we have a choice. That what we do matters." She looked up at Angie.

"I used to think that too…" Now I'm not so sure.

If she could change the world why did this keep happening?

Angie lunged forwards as the shots rang out.

She could change, stop, this

Her hand connecting with Beth as the bullets hit their mark.

The look of disbelief she's met with each time she's kind to Beth, the one that had seemed so endearing before, is like a blow to the stomach.

They may not have been friends but Beth's unwillingness to believe that Angie would want to spend time with her, would even be nice to her tears her apart.

Beth is shy smiles and sarcasm and warmth, but still every time she seems surprised that she, that anyone, would want to spend time with her.

Watching as Beth laughed at some inane comment shared over coffee she vowed to make it happen more often.

Angie remembers idly wishing for a blank slate, a do over at some point in the same way that everybody does.

Each morning Beth treats her with barely concealed distrust. Hesitance lacing their every interaction.

Each morning they barely talk.

Angie had wanted a blank slate, but she'd thought that they didn't exist.

The reality was so much worse.

Vague hopes for the future form loosely in her mind as she watched Beth work but she quickly shook them away.

What's the use in hoping for the future if the present is eternal.

"Beth, fall back. I'll take point."

The words are out of her mouth and she's leading them towards the inevitable before she knows what's happening.

As she lay with Beth crouched above her as wave of relief washed over her.

She'd stopped it.

At least Beth was okay.

She probably shouldn't have been surprised when she woke up.

Beth takes her coffee black.

Beth likes pineapple on her pizza.

Beth has an adorable crinkle in her brow when she works.

"You don't like me."

Angie may be screwed.

Doesn't stop it from ending the same way.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

She wakes with the phantom weight still heavy in her arms.

Can feel the blood on her hands.

"You're late, Deangelis."

"You're late Deangelis."

"You don't like me."

"Childs! Get Down!"

"Get Down!"

"Angie! Move!"

"Can you guys hear that?"

"Beth!"

Nothing she does washes the stains from her hands.

She doesn't get out of bed the next day, maybe she's the reason it ends that way. Maybe without her there Beth will make it through the night.

The call still comes.

Art's voice hoarse, tinny through the bad connection "It's Beth…Detective Childs. She was shot, she died, Angie."

Please not again.

There was so much blood.

Always so much blood.

Angie decides that she must be in hell.

It's like falling in a dream, Angie knew that she was going to hit the bottom, she couldn't stop the inevitable.

Beth's smile makes her soar, but she always hits the bottom.

In theory each day is a new page.

But the words have been erased so many times before they've left an indelible mark. The shadow of the days that never were hanging over her.

"You don't like me."

They didn't have lunch this time. She hadn't brought her coffee, hadn't watched her ask for extra pineapple on her pizza, hadn't made her smile. They hadn't even spoken.

Watching her fade away hurt so much more when she'd seen her light up.

As she pushed her hands down onto the wound she'd tried to save her from so many times, Angie shook her head, words caught in her throat. She didn't even know how to start explaining how wrong she was. There was never enough time.

She tried to change the words, go off script but everything just kept happening the same way around her.

There were limits to her influence.

Except when it came to Beth.

Lunch. This was allowed.

She was allowed to watch as Beth browsed the menu at whatever hole-in-the-wall diner they'd decided upon. She'd tried to suggest nicer places, proper restaurants, it was Beth's last meal after all, but Beth always shot down the suggestion. Not that Angie could blame her.

Angie was Beth's friend, even if the word didn't even if the word felt hollow, like it was barely enough; but Beth didn't even know her.

Confusion filled her eyes as Angie cradled her failing body close.

"You don't like me."

The guilt weighs heavily in her stomach as she brings Beth coffee.

Since when had coffee felt like a death sentence.

"You're going to die today."

They're sat opposite each other in the same booth at the same diner that they'd spent every lunch for the last however many repeats of the day.

"Is that a threat?"

"No." Angie barked out a bitter laugh. "It's the truth."

Beth stared at her, her mouth agape. "You've lost it."

Angie grabbed Beth's wrist as she stood from the table, stopping her from leaving. She'd never touched her like this before. Never without the warmth of her blood seeping through her fingers. She closes her eyes as she savoured the fell of Beth's skin, the pulse she could faintly feel where her fingers pressed down. Beth was so alive.

"I'll tell you how it's going to go." Angie said, her eyes fixed on the point of contact. "We go back. We work. Art comes in. He asks for help." She took as shuddering breath as she raised her eyes to meet Beth. "No matter what I do it always ends the same way."

Beth's eyes focused on hers, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

"Guess you were right."

Being right had never felt like a defeat before.

"You don't like me."

Angie leant down, squeezing her eyes closed as she pressed a brief kiss to Beth's forehead.

Angie shook her head. Beth wasn't wrong, she didn't like her. She just wasn't sure what word to use anymore.

She launched herself forwards as the first shot sounded, her hands connecting with Beth. Pushing.

She couldn't stop it from happening. Couldn't stop the shots from being fired. Couldn't make others believe that they were walking towards disaster.

She'd tried this before.

She hadn't been fast enough, but that hadn't stopped the instinct to try, to protect, to save.

Never fast enough.

Beth groaned, trying to sit up as she checked herself for wounds. Blood was beginning to seep into her shirt at her shoulder. "I've been hit."

Angie bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

Never fast enough.

She couldn't bring herself to turn towards Beth, towards the sight she knew she'd be met with. The image of the woman she knew she'd fallen in love with laying prone on the floor, life draining from her.

She'd seen that too many times already. She could feel the blood beneath her hands, see the light fading from her eyes, the smile of perpetual confusion at Angie's concern.

Couldn't hear Beth question her again, ask why she even cared. She couldn't.

She was startled by a hand grasping her shoulder.

Her eyes trailed upwards, following it without seeing.

She'd failed again.

"I need to get this checked out."

Sitting by a hospital bed had never felt like a blessing before.