After all this time, I wanted to revisit Raphael & Amber's relationship and see where it could've gone. This is set within the personal fanon I established in my stories: "Loser", "Dust of Life", "Traffic", "Prey", "Sparring", "Choices" and my other most recent fic "Old Shoes & Picture Postcards", all of which can be accessed through my profile.

ooo

Amber was flirting with a triceraton when he entered the bar and even from all the way on the other side of the expansive room, even across the dozens of variously sized and shaped bodies that densely packed the space, even against the din and gloom and haze, her gaze was drawn to him as immediately and surely as if they had been the only two people there.

Her knees immediately went weak and her heart pounded hard against her sternum. She was unprepared for the sickening rush of feeling that coursed through her at sight of him – a horrible jumbled mess of emotions that had her gripping the bar for support, her prospective client forgotten entirely as she seriously considered running away, vanishing into the crowd. The moment passed and she knew she couldn't possibly – but then other awful possibilities occurred to her – maybe he hadn't seen her. Hadn't recognised her. Maybe he was there just to cuss her out, finally get his own back.

Maybe he wasn't even there for her.

Now she had seen him after all this time, and maybe she would stand there, leaning up against that bar, waiting and waiting and waiting… and he would not appear at her side.

The triceraton who was at her side huffed and snorted for her attention and Amber struggled to regain her focus. She tossed long red hair over her shoulder and attempted a winning smile, suddenly hating how absolutely she had lost her cool, all her barriers utterly shattered in an instant – by just a glimpse of him.

"Would you get me another drink, baby?" she cooed at the massive saurian, striving to appear as implacable and unperturbed as ever. As he turned to the bar she couldn't resist a quick glance around the room, hating herself for the moment of weakness. Nothing. And the disappointment then was as devastating as a blow.

The triceraton handed her the drink, a large gin and tonic in a tall glass with a twist each of lemon and lime. She took the glass with an attempt at a coquettish smile but it felt false and strained and she reprimanded herself sharply. "Fifteen years," she told herself fiercely. "Fifteen years. Why the fuck do you even care?" Out loud she asked the saurian – whose name she had forgotten almost instantly – "ever been with a human girl before, baby?"

She felt stupid uttering the hackneyed line. But so much of her work was about being able to say that shit and make it sound real. If she was even a little off her game it all began to feel too ridiculous and that would throw her off even more. And if she couldn't perform convincingly, repeat business would drop off.

For the moment, the triceraton hadn't noticed – men usually didn't until her insincerity had become the figurative equivalent of a sledgehammer to the face – and rested one arm on the bar leaning down towards her.

"I've been wanting to try," he said lecherously, his breath a gust of moist warmth on her face. "I'm particularly curious about hair – " and he arrogantly lifted several of her red locks up in one clawed paw, running them through his fingertips, apparently captivated by the way it caught the dim glow of the meagre lighting. Her hair had always been an asset in her work and even more so now that hairless alien species were crossing her path quite often. But Raphael had also loved her hair and with him so closely present in her mind right then, a thousand intimate memories hovering and primed to be painfully recollected, the triceraton's touch only made her feel sick and suddenly she was backing off, unable to go through with it, unable to pretend any more.

She didn't even bother attempting an explanation to the spurned saurian who shouted after her angrily as she ducked quickly into the crowd, moving as fast as she could behind the biggest aliens she saw. She'd lost it. She'd fucking lost it. At work. Holy fucking shit. She never lost it. And especially never at work. She'd been in this game since she was fourteen. She'd seen some fucking shit. She was a pro through and through. But she'd lost it.

She found her way to the booths that lined the rounded walls of the bar and stumbled along until an empty one presented itself. She slid in and smoothed back the hair at her temples, unnecessarily as her coiffure remained perfect, then swore out loud when she realised she'd left her fucking drink behind. Furiously, she tapped a cigarette out of her case and lit it with trembling hands, smoking it quickly.

For a couple of weeks after she had seen Leonardo, she'd had a stupid twinge of hopeful anticipation hovering, no matter how hard she rebuked herself for it. After all, Leonardo had not promised to say anything. And even if he did, it didn't mean Raphael would want to see her. But still that feeling had lingered no matter how many times she told herself she was being a foolish child.

But a few weeks passed and there had been no sign of him and that rare, childish optimism had faded to a dull and bitter ache she distracted herself from with constant working, shopping and the beauty treatments she indulged in heavily – Quadrivium was extensively equipped with all manner of services for short and long term staying travellers. She'd resigned herself to the reality he would not come and – well, why should he? She had dumped him, after all. Cut him off brutally and then fled the city without a word. And why? Because he'd been worried about her. He'd loved her and been worried about her and she had seen that as a hostile attempt to control her.

Amber sucked back hard on her cigarette, finishing the rest in one big drawl, and then held the smoke in her lungs for several long moments until her vision swam and her head reeled. She let it all out in a great gust, smoke billowing all around her.

When she'd seen him – it had to have been him – all that hope had come galloping back, even as she had reeled with apprehension and anxiety.

Amber let her forehead drop to her fingertips, pressing her eyes shut tight against the sting there.

ooo

To be continued…