Edges

Part I

By Sweetprincipale

Set after season two, but without the Beast in attendance. Amanda needs the edge taken off. Martin wants to help. There's just a slight misunderstanding about what kind of "edge" it is…

Amanda's feet rested up on the dashboard as her chipped electric-blue nails kept beat with the rhythm of the radio's rock station as it hummed low in the background. Her fingers tapped on her knees, hitting smooth skin and torn up denim.

"Approximately 37 more minutes until the exit!" Gripps sat up, stared blearily through the chains dividing back from front, and collapsed back down into a snoring heap. His elbows speared Cross and Vogel, making Cross throw a reactive, still-asleep punch while Vogel was sleepily murmuring, "Waffles when we get there?"

Martin laughed softly and lit a smoke, cracking the window to let the gray wisps blow out. "You wanna crawl in the back and get some sleep?"

"No, I'm up," Amanda had to smile at the antics of the guys in the back. Her Rowdy family was awesome, and she couldn't count the number of times she'd collapsed in the sleeping pile, perfectly at ease surrounded by four big, tough looking masters of destruction. Also masters of kindness and protectiveness. They had made her life so much better.

But they hadn't helped her with one particular issue. The issue that was keeping her awake until they would stop for the night, find a cheap crummy motel, and she would ask for a room of her own this time, which she had never done.

But she needed to take the edge off. She was shocked as heck that in all these months on the road, she'd never seen these guys pick up a girl, even hit on one. Did energy vampires not have urges?

She hadn't. Not in a long time. But when any sensation could suddenly lead to a screaming, painful near-death experience, it tended to kill the desire. Maybe now that she was safe, the urge for a little alone time in the shower with her fingers and some imagination was coming back.

Now what would she imagine that night? She had thirty-seven minutes to sit in this midnight traffic jam according to Gripps, who was never, ever wrong when it came to matters of calculation.

Frustratingly, no images sprang to mind. None that would be worth pursuing to a peak of pleasure anyway. Martin's crooked smile and raspy voice, his arms around her in one of their rare, brief hugs elbowed its way into her brain, but she couldn't work with that.

Well, she could. But it wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair. Almost disrespectful to have those naughty thoughts about the strongest, kindest, safest man she'd ever known.

Although, who better to have such thoughts about? Amanda looked over at him, watching his head bob faintly with the music. His strong hands tapped the steering wheel, a study in black ink on the wrists and all the silver rings on the fingers, the bruises and cuts on the knuckles…

Holy crap. His hands are making me wet. Just knowing how good they feel, even when he helps me down out of the van, pulls me along as we run before cops come after some frantic smash and grab. Nothing even sexual about him or the way he treats me. Do I really want to torture myself by thinking about the things I'll never have with him?

Martin could feel the strange, swirling, frustrated energy building up in her. More than just getting antsy from being cooped up in the car. Not the painful, fearful emanation of a pararibulitis attack. Not the bittersweet tang of homesickness or missing that sorry excuse for a brother of hers. He hadn't felt it before on her, and it was an odd blend of energies, so unique to her and so unusual for him that even he, with his thirty-odd years of freakdom, couldn't decipher it.

But don't matter. Girl's not happy. Our job to help her, help her be happy, be safe, not suffer from shit we can spare her from. If it's energy, I can eat it.

"Hang on, Drummer Girl. Gimme a minute to get away from the jerk who keeps creepin' up in my blindspot an' I'll help you take your edge off."

Amanda yelped out loud at his words. She knew they couldn't read minds. However, they could read emotions. What were hers saying? She wanted to ask more, but all that came out was, "Martin?"

"I can feel something botherin' you. I know what it is," Martin soothed.

"You… know what it is?" Amanda looked over at him, cheeks red, though he probably couldn't see that in the dark interior of the van.

"Frustration…" Martin inhaled, pulling out individual pieces of the puzzle weighing on her. "Hurts, but not a lot. An ache. I can make it better."

Her breathing went uneven. Maybe he didn't know exactly what it was. Maybe he did. "H-how are you going to do that?"

Martin hesitated. The energy surrounding her was becoming erratic, almost panicky. Was this a new build to the same sort of attack? Was this paranoia? She knew how he would help her, because it never changed. Or maybe she wondered how he could do it alone? But Vogel had done it alone when they were on the run by themselves.

"Nothin' to worry about. Same way as always. I'll handle it for you, all right?"

He wants to handle it for me. Same as always. What's that supposed to mean? "How-" her voice came out a high whine and she coughed to clear it, "How would you handle it?"

"You act like I've never done this before," Martin was getting genuinely worried. He'd helped Amanda through dozens of attacks.

"Sorry, no, I know you have!" Amanda hastily waved that off. Martin must be thirty, thirty-five even. And she had no qualms about his age. Martin was younger than most people half his age in spirit and wiser than most humans of any age. He knew when to speak, when to be silent, how to protect, how to be loyal, how to be a friend, how to survive. So yes, he probably did know how to please a woman.

"It's kind of a combination of hands, mouth, mind, and heart," he mused aloud. He wasn't sure how to explain it to someone who couldn't experience it. He opened his mouth, his hands, and felt the pull of the other person's emotions, and energy flowed into him. His brain and his heart swallowed down countless emotions, mental and physical energy, emotional energy, and somehow, that kept his body and soul together.

Hands and mouth. Mind and heart. Pretty perfect. "You can do that while driving?" Amanda's voice was a blend of skepticism and awe. The hands- yeah, I guess he could do that. I could return the favor. Maybe. She began scooting toward him and then stopped. What the hell am I doing!? What the hell is he doing!?

"Is it gettin' bad?" Martin felt a sudden surge of anger and something else hit him in the nostrils. Stupefication? Indignance? He shook his head. Before Amanda, he's been surviving on a diet of fear, pain, and panic. Now he felt like he needed a thesaurus with him to try and grasp the fine edges of his lady in gray.

Amanda looked over into the backseat. She didn't want any of the others to suddenly join this conversation. Especially not Vogel. Vogel who had practically barfed on the steering wheel at the thought of being her boyfriend, even though she knew that he loved her like a sister and would gladly take a bullet for her.

"I really don't want the others involved in this kind of 'edge removal,'" she hissed.

"We usually share energy, but they're not gonna fuss about missing one meal," Martin gave her a puzzled look.

Mind temporarily stuck on the phrase "we usually share," Amanda's brain boggled with all kind of hedonistic images- images she didn't really want. Maybe it would be fun to be the filling a Rowdy sandwich, but it was also not the person she was. She might be a badass punk, but she wasn't into meaningless sex. Although, it wouldn't be meaningless. Argh! No. She didn't have those kinds of feelings for Cross, Gripps, or Vogel. Martin, though...

Embarrassment. That emotion was clear and getting stronger. "All right, Drummer. I give up. Don't know what it is botherin' you, just know I can take it away."

The embarrassment reek was getting hard to ignore. The rest of Martin's sentence had finally caught up to the first half inside Amanda's twitchy brain. "Energy?" she murmured. "Energy!" her voice rose with understanding, making Cross mutter angrily in the back before his snores resumed.

Martin finally found a still spot in the creeping, merging traffic and held out his hand, placing it over her chest. Tendrils of blue and ice white flowed into him, just a tiny draw, hardly a snack.

His mind lit up like a pinball machine, all the bells and miniature lights snapping and ringing. Sexual frustration. Confusion. Eagerness, anger, love, exhaustion, want… a freaking buffet. It was like swallowing a whole bag of Skittles at once and washing it down with half a liquor cabinet. Too many flavors, all delicious. Complicated, complex, and delicious, like the woman herself.

Amanda relaxed momentarily. The stress was gone. The prickling in between her legs wasn't removed, just temporarily on hiatus. The embarrassment came back, but less. No point worrying now. He'd tasted it. He must know.

It was his turn to blush. It was hard for him to do that anymore, but he'd done it a few times since he'd met her. "Think I misunderstood," he gruffly muttered, eyes firmly ahead, locked on the line of tail lights.

"Me, too. I - um- well, before I knew you guys, the attacks were so bad. I never left the house. I dropped out of college because I missed so many classes, and then I was so afraid of having an attack on campus, and no one would get what was going on… I haven't wanted to have- to 'do anything' for a really, really long time."

Emotionally open shit like that was hard to share. Martin reached over with a mere brush of his knuckles to the ragged edge of her denim cuff. It was bravery, and he appreciated it. He cleared his throat. "In this line of work- you don't meet many people you like. None that you stay in contact with. The boys and I, we have our own preferences. Vogel doesn't seem to want anyone right now. Gripps and Cross, they might on occasion enjoy someone's company. I'm more like you, Drummer. Too," the words scraped over his lips with a bitter tang, "scared to relax and enjoy it."

Amanda tried to hide her startled expression by pretending to study their progress on the blocked highway. She never pictured Martin as scared of anything, and yet she knew there were things he feared. Losing his brothers. Even losing her.

Martin continued, his own head turning, ostensibly to blow a cloud of smoke through the window. "Never know when Blackwing might hire a pretty face. I can never stop watching their backs," his head tilted to the trio. "Can't stop watchin' my own. I still feel like doin' things," he let out a sigh. "But it's been a real long time since I've had the chance."

"I think that's the most words I've ever heard you say at one time. Or possibly even the most words ever, collectively," Amanda let her knuckles lightly punch his elbow, a friendly gesture, half-teasing, half-commiserating.

"I'll be done for a few months now," he laughed with her in the dark.

Silence breathed between them. The edge was gone, but not how she'd wanted it to disappear, and not how he had envisioned taking it from her.

Then they both spoke at once. Amanda blurted, "When you sense things, do you see specific stuff?"

"Did I upset you?" Martin asked in a low, cautious tone that she couldn't' ever recall hearing.

"By offering to help me? Of course not!" Amanda's hand found his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and she even relaxed enough to lean over, head on his shoulder, like they'd done the night she'd pulled them from Wendimoor and a few dozen times since.

Martin relaxed, shoulders visibly dropping. "I don't get details. I get the emotions. When you have your attacks, I don't know what you see. I just know they're bad and I can help. 'S all that matters."

"That's why I love you. Love you guys," Amanda hastily amended. "See? Why would I be upset?"

Martin snorted through his nose. "Not for what I thought I was offerin'! For what you thought I was offerin'."

Amanda's cheeks reddened once again, but she couldn't help but laugh. "You had me worried when you said you could do it while we were driving!"

"Well... I didn't say how I could do it while drivin'," he smirked.

"You did actually. Hands, mouth, mind, heart. The hands I got, but mouth? You had me wondering."

And from the easy laughter, silence spawned again.

"I -I didn't mean I was wondering about- I wasn't wondering like that."

Martin could feel a combination of anxiety and guilt burst from her. Was she lying, or afraid he'd think she was lying? Or just afraid he'd think badly of her, the way he'd been afraid moments ago? Drummer's precious. Only way to describe it. Rare, worth risking it all, can't bear to lose her, any part of her.

"Your thoughts are yours, Drummer. None of my business."

"I know. But, if you were wondering, there wasn't anything bad. In my wondering. I was um- I was impressed. You sounded perfect. You know, most guys wouldn't mention mind and heart. Nice touch."

"That was for energy, not sex."

"So, you're just physical with sex?" Amanda replied before she thought about it. "Oh! No, never mind. God, sorry Martin. Your thoughts and anything else that's yours is yours. I mean, private! None of my business!" Amanda wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. An attack might actually be preferable to the acute mortification she was feeling right now. "I'm going to go get in the back."

"Can if you want. Not on my account."

Amanda half raised from the seat, but then sank back down. "I think you're smart."

"Somethin' I ain't heard much. Why?"

"You can't put your foot in your mouth often if you don't talk much."

Martin shrugged. She had a point. "On the other hand, sometimes you don't say the things you need to say."

She shook her head with a scoffing sound. "Nope. Not you. You may not talk much, but you always say the right things. You always say what needs to be said. If it really matters, you say it."

Did he now? He was pleased with her admiration. He could honestly say it was a foreign emotion. Strangers feared. Even their allies like Gently and that Farrah woman thought they were a destructive force as much as they were useful. Sure, Vogel, Gripps, and Cross admired things about him, but they also knew all the flawed spots.

"Rose-colored glasses," Martin muttered softly, words heard long ago, was it his mother or his grandmother who said them?

"Eff that. You know I'm not lying. I bet you can smell lies, huh?" Amanda scrunched up her face, imitating his sniffing position.

He huffed out a chuckle. "Not all lies, just if someone is bein' dishonest completely, a way of life. They have a stench on 'em. Priest stinks of lies. Friedkin, too. You don't. Smell clean, like rain and ozone, that electric smell after a lightning bolt."

"I smell burnt?" Amanda discreetly sniffed her shoulder.

"Nope. Smell good. Honest. I know you're not lyin'. Just shocked you think that. 'Bout me, anyways."

They finally passed the wreck that had caused the traffic jam, tow trucks, police cars, and broken glass blocking several lanes, leaving them to squeak by in one and then rejoin swiftly moving traffic.

"Thank God! Five miles to our exit!" Amanda leaned back with a sigh of relief.

"Boys! Alive in five!" Martin floored the van, which grumbled and rumbled happily as it picked up speed. In the back, enthused murmurs gave way to one more chorus of snores.

Up front, Amanda grew quiet, her fingers making their nervous dance on her knees, out of time with the music now. The urge for some alone time had reasserted itself unexpectedly, suddenly. She didn't know why.

Liar. You're thinking about him now. Her eyes darted to Martin and back to the window. There are five miles left for you to say anything. That maybe you want some help. That you want his help. Hands and mouth… Her hips gave a sudden squirm. It wouldn't be meaningless. Friends could… Well, maybe they couldn't. Not us, because we rely on each other so much, and it could ruin everything. Her eyes stole another glance. Or maybe make things so much better.

"Drummer. Tyin' yourself in knots again. Gettin' you there as fast as I can."

Getting me there. Now everything has a double meaning. "Martin."

"Hm?"

Words vanished.

"Drummer?"

"Nothing."

They took the exit with a screech that sent the men in the back groaning into the walls and sitting up with curses and puzzled grunts.

"'Manda?"

"Yeah?"

For the first time in a long time, he held his tongue. Somethin' needed to be said, but he wouldn't let it out. Too dangerous. Or too frightening. I'm here if you want me. You got edges, I'll remove 'em. You want this hand, it's yours. You want this heart? You already have it.

"Uh- Gripps won all that money playin' poker in that bar in Tuscaloosa. Why don't you get yourself a room with some privacy? Sleep without all of us snorin' in your ear for a change," Martin said loudly, making the suggestion so that the others could clearly hear it.

Amanda gave him a look of untold gratefulness. He has my back, even in all the odd, stupid ways I didn't know I would want or need. "Thanks, guys! I could use a little girl time. One night every couple months is good, right?" she laughed with a little too much mirth to ring true.

From the back, through the chains, Cross' head suddenly popped through. "No man! What if you have an attack or shit goes down? Rowdies don't leave any member of the pack unprotected."

"Yeah, Boss! I got your back!"

"Drummer has her own power. Ever think a lady might need a break from us male types?" Martin growled, more harshly than needed.

"Suite. Two rooms. Two doors. Privacy. Protection," Gripps' head appeared next to Cross, making them look like a two-headed man.

"That's fine. That's a good idea," Amanda nodded firmly, daring Martin to argue her case. He didn't.

Because of this newfound desire for a suite, Martin had to leave the crummy section of town and look for something more upscale. Amanda pulled out her phone and looked through a travel website. She finally directed them to a place that had a vacant two bedroom suite, although the hotel didn't have stellar reviews.

"That's fine. The last time we stayed in a nice hotel, it lost three stars," Vogel bragged proudly. "Man, were they pissed!"

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing! We were just ourselves," Cross grinned.

"That lobby looked better with more exits," Gripps high-fived Vogel.

"None of that. Don't need to get kicked out tonight," Martin ordered. "Save it for the morning." Cheers erupted, and even Amanda had to smile.

Amanda called from the parking lot and double checked the vacancy status. She went in and paid with fistfuls of cash before the tired night manager could change his mind.

Out in the parking lot, the boys were unloading things from the top of the van and pulling worn duffles from inside. As Amanda emerged, dangling room keys triumphantly, Gripps drew four cards from the deck he often kept in his pocket. His nimble fingers flew through a shuffle and then fanned the deck very professionally.

"Can't poker wait until we get inside?" Amanda asked.

"One of us has to go with you. High card goes with Drummer," Vogel explained and yanked out a card with his everpresent eagerness. "Yeah! It's me! King of Spades!"

"I'm out," Cross didn't even bother to pull a card.

"Pull one for me then," Gripps said, hands full. Cross obediently pulled and showed him a five of diamonds.

"Martin," Gripps nodded.

"I don't-"

"Do it or it's not fair," Amanda crossed her arms, playfully stern.

Martin yanked out the card on the end, nearest him and didn't even bother to look at it.

"Aw, man! Okay, fine, but next time, I call bunking with Drummer," Vogel said petulantly.

Martin stared down at the card in his hand. Ace of Hearts. "How the hell…"

Gripps smiled as he turned away. The Universe of course. With a little bit of an assist from the man with magic hands.

To be continued...