beth had told herself from the start - way back when the tension between them had first started blooming into something that couldn't be ignored - that there was no future for one violent gang leader and one suburban mother of four. she'd been practical about her attraction to him, about the way he made it difficult for her to think - so she'd made an impulsive decision to get him out of her system so that they could both focus.
he'd pulled her back in with the swing of a tire iron and an underlying threat of giving away her secret, and even then she'd known it hadn't meant anything to him.
the second time had been less practical, more a result of mourning the end of something that had come to mean so much to her ( not him, she'd tell herself, but the partnership, the thrill, the way she had felt so alive. not him, he'd just been the catalyst ). but it had still been the end - it had been one last time, one last goodbye, before the words it's over settled in the space between them.
she hadn't been able to look at him when she said it.
it might have been a bit unconventional ( some guys send flowers, but whatever ), but he'd pulled her back in then, too.
this had all been about business to him, she knows - had known then - but maybe a little part of her had begun to allow a seed of hope to sprout amidst the garden of insecurities that live within her. maybe that's why she'd been ready to lean in at the end of the most infuriating game of twenty questions known to man. maybe it's why she'd taken the drop to his voice, the space diminished between them to mean something more than just a debt owed, an impossible price to be paid.
still, she'd walked away. practical.
and right, because that explains why it hurts so damn much when he looks at her and her inquisitive eyes, demanding something more than just work, and he gives her nothing, tells her she's nothing more, makes her feel like nothing.
fine, then. she will ask for nothing from him.
this isn't a relationship - it never was.
it's been a practice in intimidation ( in manipulation ), a power struggle, a partnership, a something with benefits.
that doesn't make it a relationship.
the problem is, they still have business. which means they still have to deal with one another.
the money is cooked, turner and his team have been tearing apart financial institutions all over detroit to match up the counterfeit cash, doing their very best to follow it back to her and the girls. and she's a little bit miffed, truth be told, that the feds aren't even trying to use her against the gang at this point, but seem wholly preoccupied with beth herself.
rio doesn't seem to give a shit about that, so she doesn't bring it up again.
but they still owe him - a lot - after ruby and annie's failed delivery, after whatever grudge he's holding over her head just because he feels like it ( she still won't let herself believe he actually cared about their little goodbye sexcapades - figures he probably had a good laugh with his boys about getting in her pants, having a little fun on the side, that's it ).
so it's back to drugs. and it's slow going.
he shows up to the drops alone, at first, but beth brings annie and ruby. he doesn't approach her beyond a professional distance when she's flanked by her girls, and beth doesn't want to allow him even an inch to work with, lest he try to manipulate her by proximity, by touch, in that way he always has ( she won't admit it out loud, but she's a little too raw still, a little bit fragile, and she doesn't want to give him an in ). ruby takes to handing over the cash, beth sits on her swing, toes still on the ground, rocking back and forth just as far as her feet will allow.
she doesn't look at him - but she can feel his eyes on her, and the way her cheeks warm under his gaze.
she thinks she hears a note of amusement as he confirms the next drop, but beth still doesn't look up until he's got his back to them.
ruby and annie hang around at her place for a few hours after the first drop like this, drinking wine and avoiding the topic of gang friend and just how long it's going to take them to pay him back at this rate, and other common conversations that used to surround these nights. she knows it means they can tell she's not herself, but beth appreciates that they're not pushing the issue.
after a couple of similar such meetings, bullet and cisco start joining him ( truth be told, beth isn't sure which is which - she knows ruby explained it, but her mind isn't exactly focusing properly these days ). he's colder, then, without the usual cocky air about him that they'd become comfortable with. beth still only spares a glance up at him when she's sure he's looking elsewhere, trying to ignore the way her chest aches at the sight. one time, he catches her, and beth almost thinks she sees something soften in his eyes - but it's gone in a flash. before she can let that cool expression chill her any further, she goes back to pretending something on her phone is too important to ignore, and he's gone with his boys trailing behind him a moment later.
the thing is, beth is a master at compartmentalizing her problems. she's been doing it for decades, after all, so long that it's almost like second nature at this point.
but the problem with bottling everything up and shoving it into a box where its meant to stay hidden, is that eventually the pressure causes an explosion, and there's no escaping it.
beth's explosion is almost inevitable on one particular night when things don't quite go to plan.
"um. what do you mean you can't make it?" her voice is maintaining some semblance of calm as she listens to annie's excuses on the other line. extra shift at work, can't turn it down, sadie's hormones cost way more than she can afford and they're not making shit with this drug deal. beth bites her tongue to stop from reminding her little sister that it's her fault they owe so much, but the truth is - beth is just as much to blame. it ends with a mumbled sorry sis, a promise to make it up to her, and a click.
beth sighs as she stares at the phone, but at least there's ruby.
"no can do, b. i'm sorry. remember - i told you we're meeting with that shark of a lawyer tonight, and i don't trust that dude as far as i can throw him - which is not far." and of course, ruby had told beth that she wouldn't be able to come tonight, but beth had figured she'd still have annie as a buffer, and when annie bailed, she'd let everything fly right out of her mind except for the nervous energy surrounding the idea of going alone. she speaks her apologies into the phone - for her forgetfulness, for everything stan is going through, for everything.
as she hangs up the call, the dread begins to unfurl in the pit of her stomach, and beth can feel the panic coming on. for one insane moment, she considers asking rio to reschedule the drop - but she doesn't even want to think about going there, and the can of worms it might open.
see, keeping everything bottled up like that is all well and good until someone gives that bottle a good shake, and things are feeling a bit shook up at the moment.
the best way to keep her cool? keep herself busy.
so she hauls the bag of cash out to the car, tucking it beneath the passenger seat before shutting and locking the door, and heading inside to do some things around the house.
by the time dusk falls, beth has cleaned and scrubbed the kitchen, swept and mopped all of the floors on the first level of the house, washed all of the sheets, vacuumed the entire second floor, and watered all of her plants.
it's therapeutic - not only because cleaning has always been a stress reliever for her, but also because there's nothing more satisfying than a clean house.
almost nothing.
she's exhausted by the time she peels off her clothes and steps into the bath she has waiting, and maybe - maybe she can rest her eyes for just a minute while she decompresses in the hot water.
the water is lukewarm when she's startled awake by a noise, realizing her phone has vibrated its way off of the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom floor, and beth can tell by the lack of light outside the window that it's well after dark, which means she can probably guess the source of the incessant buzzing on her phone. she pulls the stopper from the drain and rises carefully out of the tub, grabbing her warmest robe as if it might ease the chill that's making its way down to her bones. only once it's wrapped around her and the belt is tied tightly at her waist does beth reach for the phone, unlocking it to find texts from ruby and annie, and two missed calls from a number that - despite her best intentions - still makes her heart leap. instead of calling back, she shoots off a text.
i'll be there in ten.
the response is almost instantaneous, and she chews on the inside of her cheek as she reads it.
just you ?
it shouldn't matter to him, and the fact that it matters shouldn't matter to her, but it does, and she's already over-thinking as she gets dressed as quickly as possible, throwing on a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt, and zipping up her purple hoodie. she grabs her purse and her keys, not realizing how cold it is until she's outside walking to the car. but she's already late, and beth doesn't want to waste any more time, or have to spout excuses to him when she can barely stand to look at him. so she cranks up the heat in the van, shooting off another text before putting it into reverse to leave.
just me.
if he responds, she doesn't see it, having tucked the phone into the side pocket of her purse immediately after, focusing on the drive to the park and not on the way her heart is pounding. she doesn't want to be doing this alone, doesn't want to face him head on and look in his eyes and relive the way it hurt the last time.
but she doesn't have a choice. so she just keeps driving.
it feels like a lifetime between her house and the park, even though beth knows it's only a five minute drive, and every inch closer gives a stronger voice to her anxiety.
when she approaches the swingset, he's sitting on her usual swing ( alone ), tapping something out on his phone. so as not to have to take a seat beside him, beth just stands - far enough away that it almost seems comical, like they're in this space for unrelated reasons, and don't want to cross some line that's meant to serve as a barrier between them.
"you're late," he says, finally, not looking up, and beth rolls her eyes before tossing the bag down at his feet. or rather.. toward his feet, because she's still standing at a distance. the force of it disrupts leaves nearby, one of which snags itself on rio's shoelace, and then he looks up, as if he's only noticing her for the first time.
whether it's because she's putting so much distance between them, or because she looks just like someone who climbed out of a bathtime nap and threw on whatever clothes she can find, he smirks, and it immediately sets her on edge. and because she can't catch a break today, of course he sees it, and the amusement in his eyes just grows.
"lost track of time."
it's short, flat, and without a hint of remorse, but it's true enough. he stares at her - one brow raised - before leaning over to grab the bag. despite it not having landed as close as she'd intended, he barely makes an effort to reach it - all graceful movements, and beth almost huffs audibly at the sight.
he stands, both hands gripping the handles as he holds the bag in front of him, but makes no move to close the distance. she's almost relieved, almost free and clear, but apparently, beth can't keep her mouth shut.
"you're not going to count it?" and she doesn't know why she asks, doesn't know why it matters - she already knows he doesn't trust her, already knows he doesn't give a shit about her, it's not like he's cutting this meeting short for her benefit.
so he shrugs, still not moving beyond the rise and fall of his shoulders, and beth frowns until he speaks again - taking on a dangerous tone she's come to know so well. "if it ain't all here, i'll be seein' you real soon."
she opens her mouth to say something else, closes it again, and a shiver takes over. her hair is still wet, her hoodie too thin, and the wind is biting right through everything. he almost looks sympathetic for a moment, and beth has to avert her gaze as though the sight of it might physically pain her ( it might, she thinks. it might just irritate the already raw wound she's self-inflicted in allowing herself to feel something for him ).
when she hears the rustling of the leaves underfoot, beth assumes it's just the sound of his retreat - meeting over, time to go - and she exhales a sigh of relief. but she feels his nearness a moment later like an impossible force, and her breath catches before she can bring herself to risk a glance.
when she does, it's just in time to catch him as he drapes his coat over her shoulders, and beth is caught in wide-eyed shock for a moment, staring at him openly now - though she'd spent so much time trying to avoid his gaze. it's there for just a flash - something warm, resembling concern, his fingertips lingering at the nape of her neck - and then he schools his features, squeezing lightly at her shoulder once he's satisfied with the placement of the coat. "i'm gonna want this back, yeah?"
she's still staring, speechless, by the time he's gone, and the warmth of the heavy coat is nothing compared to the way his touch had burned like a brand into the back of her neck.
that little seed is rearing it's head again, threatening to sprout into a bud of hope once more, scratching at the soil she'd tried so hard to pour over it. and she's a little embarrassed that such a small gesture, such a brief touch can have such a profound effect on the wall she's been trying so hard to build around her heart.
but maybe if she stops bottling it up, she can at least learn how to cope with it.