Hey guys! I'm trying to get these updates cranked out, so we'll see when I can get this chapter done.
Many thanks go out to: IronAmerica, XxDeathStarxX, Alex, and Troll99 for their reviews last chapter!
I promise that this'll be much lighter than my most recent chapter of TMSoV, but there will be that wonderful angst that we all love so much.
I own nada.
The Lost Episodes- Chapter Two: Episode Twelve: Part Of Me
Sunshine On A Cloudy Day
"I had a rather strange childhood, Vince. My mother died when I was ten, and my father just sorta changed after that. Before then, we were happy, if that answers your question."
Orwell groaned into her coffee mug as her words from about a week back replayed in her mind over and over again. Why did she have to lie about her mother? Now there was a very good chance that Vince would catch her in that lie and find out that she was a Fleming. Maybe this would be a good time to learn how to gag herself, surely it would be a better fate than what her partner would have in mind for her when the truth came out…
Dana, Susan, and the blogger's mother had met on numerous occasions to talk about the case by now. Little by little, they were gathering all of the evidence that they could to use against the billionaire. That included getting everyone on their side that they could. Elaine was well known throughout Palm City, and in her new town. Her publicity was, oddly, just like her ex-husband's. Everyone believed anything that came out of her mouth, even if it was utter crap. That was exactly what gave her the upper hand in most of her cases. This was going to be a battle to see who ended up on top she just knew it.
Jamie knew that her mother was going to try to find her and ask for her help. Whether she was going to answer her or not was still up for debate…
"Orwell," her partner called out to her, startling her out of her thoughts. The brunette looked back at him from where he sat admiring his helicopter model. Vince had it safely propped up on a shelf; he even took it down at cleaned it every now and then. Orwell never thought a man would clean anything, except something that they found desirable, of course.
"Yes, Vince?" the blogger asked, a smile gracing her features. It was nice to have a distraction from her berating thoughts, even if it was only for a little while.
The vigilante grinned just a bit, blue eyes shining. "You're looking a little distracted over there."
Orwell shrugged, her eyebrow arching perfectly. "Am I really?"
Vince chuckled and got up to pad over to his partner, hands stuffed in his pocket. "Don't even try that, Orwell; we both know how bad of a liar you are."
The blogger just rolled her eyes and turned to the framed police officer. "Seriously, what did you want?"
"I've got an idea I wanted to run by you," the vigilante began, blue eyes meeting with brown.
"Okay," Orwell began, a smirk playing at her lips as she took in her partner, "this should be good," she murmured.
"Well, Tracey Jerrod knows that Fleming is Chess, we've been there, done that, right?" Vince sighed when the brunette gave him an impatient glare; one day he would figure out why she didn't like talking about the Dice incident. "Well, what if we used her word against Fleming's in the trial?"
The blogger paused just for a moment to consider this. It was crazy enough to work, considering what Peter did to Tracey's father. But the question that still remained was: Would it work? Tracey Jerrod was in prison for trying to assassinate the richest man in Palm City, one who the general population just happened to be in love with.
"Who would be the one to record Tracey's testimony? Not like they would trust a guy running around in tights and a cape…" Orwell finally spoke up, her voice close to a deadpan.
"That's where the tricky part comes in…" Vince trailed off, looking back towards his model helicopter. His partner scoffed, prompting him to look back at her.
"You're going to suggest something difficult, aren't you?" the brunette asked, their eyes wavering back at each other. She sighed heavily and shifted in her seat. "Fine, but if this hair-brain idea gets you poisoned again, don't come crying to me."
The vigilante just chuckled and got back on his feet again. "You're the best, Orwell I knew I could count on you."
"Yeah, sure," Orwell smiled back at Vince as he went to grab his cape. "Just try to stay safe, alright?"
He offered her another smile before he went off to change. The blogger had a bad feeling about this. Her partner wasn't one for genius ideas, after all.
Any time Vince and Scales were in the same room, it didn't tend to end well. The vigilante always seemed to wind up beaten to a bloody pulp, whining to Orwell about how one day he was going to pay him back for all of this. And now that he had to go to him for help, Vince was about ready to just turn around and head back to the hideout. Maybe there was better idea. (Or maybe he was just a chicken. The vigilante liked to think the former, thanks very much.)
He could have just asked Secretary Portman to help sneak him in, but honestly, Scales probably would do a better job at persuading the public to go against Fleming. Vince wasn't sure who'd hurt him worse once this was over with: Orwell or Scales. Maybe he should start that will early, just in case.
The Cape perched himself on a pile of crates just as he did when he went to tell the smuggler about the gala on the Monte-Carlo. Scales' domain was the docks. Even though Fleming set him up and sent him to prison, there was no way that he could take his docks away from him.
Scales had been trying to have a meeting with his crew when they were interrupted with Vince's nonsensical drama. The smuggler was about a hair close to throwing the little gnome out the warehouse window, from the upper floor no less.
"I need your help," the vigilante rasped from the crates, keeping himself crouched low.
"My help? Son ye must have lost yer marbles. Last time I said yes to helping out or sommat, I got banged up for it," Scales told him as he padded away from the table with his boys and towards the framed cop.
"If you help me get into Owl Island Prison, then I'll help you personally get back at Peter Fleming once and for all," Vince continued, intriguing the smuggler.
A smirk tugged at Scales' lips. "Go on," he encouraged thickly.
"A friend of mine has close tabs on the court case between Susan Voyt and Fleming. You help me, and I can guarantee that you'll have your chance to testify against him," the vigilante began, watching the deformed man closely. "So, what do you say? Are you in or out?"
The smuggler's smirk turned into a broad grin as a chuckle started deep in his chest. "I think I'm starting to like ye, me boy. 'M in."
o—o—o
Owl Island Prison
Tracey Jerrod a.k.a "Dice" could predict the future. Whether it was moments before, or even years before, she was sure to know it. The savant was, at the moment, bored to tears with her life in prison. It was the same thing every day; she didn't even have to predict anything because nothing ever changed!
Dice had given up on trying to predict much of anything for a while now. Of course, this also proved to be an issue when one of the guards told her that she had a visitor, and she didn't even know who it was. (He had interrupted her from a very engrossing game of bouncing a ball against her cell…)
When the blonde was taken out of the cell to meet up with her visitor, she tried to see who it was ahead of time. However, it just gave her a pounding headache when an even more powerful force blocked her. Vince had to thank Ruvi for that one.
She recognized the Cape from a mile away, without using any of her powers. If she had been paying more attention, she would have realized that the guard was a heavily disguised Dominic Raoul. It would make sense; how else would a masked vigilante sneak past prison security…?
Dice was still cuffed from behind, but she tried to maneuver the best that she could as she sauntered over to Vince. "Hello, blindspot, what can I do for you?"
Vince began in his usual rasp, a smirk playing at his lips. "You wanna get back at Fleming don't you?"
Jerrod looked over her shoulder at the guard and then back at the vigilante. "Well of course I do, you moron. Why do you think I'm in prison in the first place?"
The Cape sighed; why were women so quick to call him an idiot? "If you got something you wanna say against him, I'll gladly make sure that it gets to the right person." He turned on his tape recorder, just before the savant began retelling the events of her childhood.
"What, like how I saw my father being murdered by his boss in a dream, and then have to watch it for real right in front of me in our own home? That man with the damn wildcat eyes killed my father; that man is Peter Fleming, I don't care if he's got a split personality or not. If he doesn't get what he deserves, then obviously the public is caught under his charm even more than I thought they were," Dice spat vehemently. "He took my one and only family member away from me. I will rot in this cell for his attempted murder because I sure as hell am not going to pretend that I didn't try!"
Vince looked back at the smuggler, who was scratching his chin as he processed the savant's words. It sounded pretty convincing to him. Of course, considering that he knew what Fleming was, he could have been biased in his judgment. The vigilante was just anxious to get this back to his partner. If it got them one step closer to clearing the Faraday name, Vince would do whatever he could. He wanted Trip to know that he should never give up without a fair fight, and he wanted Dana to know that he did love her, despite the fact that his partner was… well, this explanation wasn't easy to process. She was a dear friend, he knew that, but sometimes she just got inside his head… Ah hell, who was he kidding? He loved her, too. One thing was sure, though, Vince knew that he couldn't have both women. Orwell was far too possessive and Dana would probably be ready to beat him to death with her heaviest pot for the mere suggestion.
The idea of a love triangle was just far too much to put on his brain, along with everything else going on. The framed cop pushed those thoughts to the side and focused on Tracey as she continued with her testimony.
o—o—o
Confessions
Jamie Fleming's world had come tumbling down when Dana found out that she was the daughter of Peter and Elaine Fleming. The topic had come up casually, a mother-to-mother talk. And now the blogger had to deal with an irate public defender, who just wouldn't shut up! Okay, so this was something big that she had been hiding; still, could you blame her for not wanting to tell anyone? Her father was a psychopath and her mother was an infamous lawyer that used her former husband's last name as an excuse to get by on all of her cases. Hell, that was why Orwell refused to tell her partner the truth about her mother still being alive.
Speaking of Vince, he should be coming back to the hideout at any time. And, when he did, the jig would be up. Dana was still there, annoyed as ever. There was no getting out of this, not a single chance.
The framed cop shut the door as quietly as he could after he stepped into his home away from home. He could hear Orwell and Dana talking and, if he was really quiet, maybe he could eavesdrop and find out what the hell is going on. For good measures, Vince adjusted his mask and hood. The last thing he needed was for his wife to figure out his identity this close to the end.
"I just don't understand why you kept that a secret. You do realize that you are an important key to getting Fleming pinned for his crimes, correct?" the redheaded public defender began, her blue eyes boring a hole into the brunette's head.
Vince froze at that moment, not daring to take another step. Women tended to have amazing hearing. They would hear him coming and immediately stop talking.
"I just try to stay out of family business as much as I can. I believe that my father belongs behind bars, but I want to make that happen as Orwell, not as his daughter," Orwell looked down at her hands, which had begun to tremble, "Jamie loves daddy too much," she whispered under her breath.
"WHAT?!" Vince exploded from where he stood, blowing his cover embarrassingly so. Both women snapped their heads up to gawk at the vigilante but he could care less about the whole thing.
The blogger's brown eyes grew wide as she saw her partner, showing how truly afraid she was of him finding out. "Something the matter?" she asked, trying to pass her fear off over her shoulder.
"Orwell, you're Peter Fleming's daughter?" the vigilante asked, moving over to stand with both of them. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"
Orwell looked between her partner and his wife, the trembling in her hands only getting worse. "This is why I didn't want to say anything! If you knew that the man we're trying to throw in prison was really my father, you wouldn't want my help at all."
Dana was quiet as a mouse at that point. The looks that the two of them were giving each other told her all that she ever wondered about Jamie and the Cape. They obviously were a couple; would he really be looking at her that way if they weren't? The public defender got up and grabbed her bag, sensing that she needed to get out of there.
"Dana," Vince began, his voice thick as he looked back at his wife. "You don't have to leave, we'll be alright," he then looked back at his partner, who had tears in her big brown eyes. God, this was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He didn't want his wife to leave, but he most certainly didn't want to hurt his partner, even if she had been keeping this secret from him. He was hurt, confused, and angry.
"No, I need to pick Trip up from my parents' house, anyways. The last time I left him with them, he came home a spoiled rotten brat," the strawberry blonde chuckled weakly, looking back at the other two once more. "And Cape?" she added, turning directly to the vigilante, "try not to give Jamie too hard a time. I was a little too rough with her when I stopped by. She doesn't need that from her boyfriend, too."
The former cop could have said that he wasn't her boyfriend, but again, something kept him from saying so, just like something kept him from turning his partner away after she lied to him for over a year. Instead, Vince just nodded and told her to keep herself and Trip safe.
As the door shut, Vince and Orwell were left alone. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife, given the chance. Anger, betrayal, confusion, lust, and love were all floating around the blogger and her partner. What were they going to do with each other? It seemed that they couldn't live with each other, but they certainly couldn't live without each other.
"Vince—I'm sorry. I had planned on telling you," Orwell began, her voice tiny.
"When? When were you planning on telling me? After my name was clear, you would tell me and then expect me to leave you for good? Thinking I would be so mad that I would never want to see you again?" Vince asked, his voice incredibly thick.
"No! I just figured that it would be easier that way. I'd tell you after your name was clear. That way, if you did choose to never see me again, then it would be easier than having to work together afterwards," the brunette gained volume once more, her brown eyes blazing up at her partner.
The vigilante chuckled weakly, a sad smile crawling onto his lips. "You think that I'd never want to see you again? Orwell, do we even know each other?"
"Maybe we don't," Orwell began, watching Vince carefully. "Maybe we shouldn't see each other after you clear your name."
Vince stepped even closer to Orwell, fighting the urge to snake an arm around her waist. "Is that what you really want? Do you want to go separate ways?"
The blogger's eyes began to spill tears down her face, much to the vigilante's surprise. "No. I don't want that. I—I want us to be alright." She purposely left out the fact that she wanted him.
Her partner cupped her face in his rough hand, smiling down at her. He should have been mad at her. But, no, he wanted to hold her more than anything else. She needed to know that everything was going to be okay with them.
"Vince?" Orwell rasped quietly, taking his hand and linking her fingers with his. "What are we doing?"
"The right thing," Vince told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Hazzah, the chapter's done! Ya'll know what to do!
