Chapter Ten: See It, Don't Believe It
Mr. Red was given explicit instructions to not drop in on the day her aunt and uncle visited short of anything but the world ending. Tony had also been kicked out of the apartment for the day. Between her aunt's nosiness and her uncle's suspicious nature, there was a high likelihood of the metal man getting recognized as a dangerous criminal. He was still on the run from her side of Kansas till that side of Missouri after all. Even if her aunt and uncle never struck her as the most law conscious people, they also never struck her as people who wouldn't want someone like Tony around their niece. So she got him set up in a motel within walking distance of the apartment, supplied with beer and takeout cash.
Now it was just her and Bette, snacks laid out and untouched on the coffee table, waiting for the doorbell to ring.
And it did, precisely at the time her uncle said they'd be there.
With a long, aggrieved sigh and a shared look between herself and her roommate, she got up to answer the door. The minute it was open, she had an armful of aunt and a mouthful of glossy brown curls that she had to spit out. Just over her aunt's shoulder and mane of hair, she could see her uncle shooting them a bored but fond look. It took a moment to push down the heaviness in her chest when she saw who hadn't come.
"You gonna invite us in anytime soon, kid?" her uncle asked.
"Eventually. Whenever Aunt Alisa lets go."
"Spoilsport," said aunt grumbled at her as she released her and backed off, "The only way to get hugs is to surprise you."
"Get Uncle Allen to give you hugs," the younger woman grumbled right back, "He'd let you hug him to your heart's content."
Said uncle grimaced but didn't argue the comment. Michela chose then to finally move back and let the two of them in. Her aunt was quick to dart in, the decorations immediately drawing her in close to admire. Uncle Allen came at a much more sedate pace, eyes dragging over her apartment and settling on the redhead standing back where the hallway met the kitchen.
"Hi, I'm Bette, the roommate," she introduced herself with a slight nod, posture a bit stiff, "Would you like anything to drink?"
Alisa immediately tore herself away from the decorations to request a drink and offer introductions of her own. Her uncle had just nodded back as his sister dragged the redhead off, hanging back with the brunette.
"Well, that's concerning," the man commented to her as they headed for the livingroom together.
"What is?" she demanded, tension immediately curling claws into her shoulders.
"She's ex-military." He shot her a piercing look. "Her problems aren't the normal kind, are they?"
This was definitely why she kicked Tony - with his attitude and douche-y haircut and tattoos - out for the day. And knowing her uncle, lying or trying to diminish the seriousness of his question would fail. So she nodded grimly.
"Yeah. It's not good." Michela looked him in the eye. "If I can help it, the people after her will never get their hands on her again."
After a long bout of locked gazes, he closed his eyes and took a long inhale through the nose before opening them again.
"We're gonna have a long talk about that at some point."
"Yeah," she nodded again, with a sigh.
They were interrupted when Alisa and Bette came to join them with their drinks. They spent some time chatting. Bette telling her aunt and uncle about herself, Michela talking about spending more time at the women's center helping Francine who was planning on going on sick leave soon, and Alisa about her jewelry acquisition business. Once or twice, her uncle made a comment, but didn't really talk about his own work, or her dad. She was glad for the latter. It had been too much to hope her aunt and uncle could pull him away from work just to visit. Why she even let herself, she wasn't sure.
Eventually, her uncle pulled himself away to check the security systems, leaving his sister to keep talking to them. The minute he did, the older woman took the opportunity to focus in on Bette.
"You know…" She shot sly look at the redhead. "It might make roommate dynamics kind of weird, but have you ever considered dating Mickey? You'd make a cute couple."
The ex-bomb specialist just stared long and hard back at her, before turning to her friend.
"Everything about you suddenly makes so much more sense."
Both aunt and niece shared a glance then burst into laughter, the redhead shaking her head but joining in soon after.
All in all, her aunt and uncle visiting turned out to be a lot more painless than she'd anticipated, and they were gone as quickly as she hoped once Allen finished with his business. It probably said something about her that that made her more nervous. Considering the theme of things lately, she felt pretty justified. Even bringing home Tony went well. No mishaps while gone, he'd thoroughly enjoyed getting out of the apartment for a short while. He had burned through the money she'd left him ordering internet access and porn for his room. Yeah, things had been perfectly fine for him.
For a short time, she'd considered giving her dad a call. Seeing Alisa and Allen always made her think of him more than she already did. Sometimes Tony reminded her of the man as well. Rory Calhoun was large and brash. Both of those traits got him frequently hired and fired from a multitude of jobs, working at a crematorium the latest of the bunch. If her roommate and dad ever met, those two would either get along like a house fire or kill each other. Probably better to never find out, just like with her her aunt and uncle.
Sighing, she handed another pamphlet to someone passing the women's center. Michela was technically supposed to be at her internship today. However, when Francine had collapsed the other day in the middle of a group meeting, she called out so she could be around to keep an eye on the other woman and save her son from being pulled out of class to pick her up. It was likely that if she kept this up she'd be dismissed from her internship, but she found herself even more apathetic about that possibility than she'd ever been before. If she was let go, she was let go. Life as a glorified coffee fetcher for people she barely tolerated was beyond old at this point.
And maybe an actual position with pay at the women's center was in her future. After all, multiple staff members had been dropping hints about it, so that could really be a thing. No more catching Central City trains or getting caught up in Flash related catastrophe's there. She'd be able to just keep to the safety of Keystone.
All of it sounded too good to be true, but she was going to take it and run with it for as long as life would let her.
Her phone buzzed with a text notification, distracting her from her thoughts. She made sure the next group of people walking by had pamphlets before taking a step back and pulling it out to see who messaged her. It almost hurt how hard her eyes rolled when she noticed the name listed. Of course, only when both of her guest rooms were occupied by semi-permanent roommates would her obnoxious ex text after months of no contact about crashing at her place for a couple days.
-That's a no go-
-You'd have to take the couch-
-We both know how you feel about the couch- she tapped out with some force.
-Why are you being stingy?-
-We both know you have plenty of rooms.-
-That are being used-
-As what? Dayrooms?-
-Or maybe for the cats you've been amassing now that you've embraced your fate as a cat lady-
Eyes narrowed, her fingers flew across her phone screen.
-For people, you dick-
-I have actual roommates now-
-I'll believe that when I see it-
-Stop inviting yourself over-
-Then invite me yourself so I don't have to-
-It doesn't work that way-
-Seriously Hart, now's not a good time-
-Don't come to my apartment-
When there was no response, Michela let out a low, disgruntled noise. The urge to throw her phone into oncoming traffic was peaking. Fighting it down, she closed the conversation window with her ex and opened up the one for Bette.
-Hey, so it looks like an old acquaintance of mine might be dropping by sometime-
-Also, he's possibly the most infuriating person I've ever met-
-So if you or Tony kill him, I forgive you-
Sighing, she turned her phone off and tucked it back into her pocket. Her roommate would probably text back at some point to ask what kind of food her ex liked because of course she'd want to be a perfect hostess for one of the least deserving people ever. In comparison, Tony was starting to show actual progress after a couple weeks of both her and Bette working on him. He was actually starting to pitch in with chores without being asked, and was looking into some of those online courses she'd been pushing him to try (though boredom was likely a motivator there). There was still griping and bickering with him, but at least he wasn't deliberately baiting them anymore.
Tony was putting some serious distance between himself and her shitlist. Not that he'd ever really been on it in the first place. Being held against his will in an illegal prison, deserving or not, gave him a lot of leeway. Maybe not leave to be a sexist prick or to inflict violence on Mr. Red, but she would always give him the chance to change even when Bette and anyone else said she shouldn't. And despite the worry he'd just disappoint her, his stumbling, tentative steps in the right direction were giving her hope that maybe he would.
Another sigh worked its way out. God, was she getting sentimental over her roommates, or what? Her aunt and uncle used to tease her back when she was young about how often she'd take in animals from off the street, if only to briefly house them before taking them to a shelter because she didn't actually want to keep them. How they'd laugh if they ever knew that the habit had evolved into a human one.
They could never know, she decided. It was bad enough that they knew she'd taken in the redhead the way she had. If they also found out about the metal man or her other speedy frequent visitor, there'd be plenty of material to last them for years of teasing.
Distractedly, Michela waved at Francine and her son as they left together, gathering her own things in order to head out from the women's center at the end of the day. It was with worry that she noted that Bette had never texted her back. That was really unlike her; she was always excited to receive and send back texts. And especially considering the content of her texts to her roommate, that should have gotten immediate responses out of the other woman. Instead, all she saw were unread texts and unheard messages from her internship, that would continue to go ignored.
With a bad feeling swirling in her gut, she finally made her way out and to her car so she could drive home. Her worry started providing her with all sorts of awful potential scenarios. Maybe the Green Arrow had made a visit again. Or Mr. Red had called the redhead away to help with something in Central. Or something was just really wrong and both of her roommates were in trouble.
It wasn't until she was finally through her door, locking it behind her, and taking in the sight of both her roommates sitting on the couch together that the feeling began to abate. Though, it started to rise once more at the lack of a happy greeting when she walked over. Both of them were tensed where they sat. Tony was looking at Bette, Bette was staring hard at the television that was turned off. From that alone, the brunette could begin to make some assumptions.
"Something happened to Mr. Red," she guessed.
"Sort of," the redhead answered flatly.
Wincing, she pushed on, asking, "How bad?"
"Bad, but he's fine."
The ex-bomb specialist didn't elaborate further, and Michela didn't exactly know what further questions to ask. Let alone whether she wanted them answered. But apparently, she wasn't the only one with questions.
A frown on his face, the man sitting next to redhead said lowly, "You're not telling her."
"Tony!" was hissed back at him.
"Telling me what?"
"It's complicated," Bette finally spoke, tugging at her gloves.
"Complicated how?" She took in the way the redhead's shoulders hunched in. "If you think it's something I don't have to know, you don't have to tell me. I can live with secrets. I've kept you two living with me this long without the cops or the army beating down my door yet, haven't I?"
That was supposed to make them relax, but if anything, all it did was make the woman hunch in on herself more and the metal man's frown deeper.
"If it's what you said you thought it was, you should tell her," Tony insisted, leaning towards her intently.
"Hey, hey," the brunette cut in, bringing her hands up in a gesture to settle down, "She doesn't have to tell me anything!"
"It's-" The other woman made a frustrated sound, covering half her face with her hand for a moment before letting it fall away. "I don't know how to say it. Maybe it's better to just show you."
And then she clicked the television on.
Light and color flickered across the screen, displaying a news report from WKEY-TV. The news anchor was speaking, but there was no audio to accompany her moving lips. There was a banner running along the bottom, and she picked out words like "The Flash, "Real," and "Criminals Apprehended." After a minute or so more of that, and then camera footage was being displayed. Immediately, she picked out Mr. Red, a blur of red and gold lightning. And there were two other figures, firing beams of bright blue and fiery orange at him. The blue beam she immediately pegged as the ice gun psycho who'd almost killed both her and Mr. Red that day they'd first met almost three months ago. She winced when she saw those beams catch the superhero now and then, and send him hurtling into unforgiving pavement or smashing into the side of a car.
However, her heart stuttered to a stop when the footage shifted from the battle to the criminals being taken into custody.
Under the stupid parka and goggles, Ice Gun Psycho looked more than a little familiar, and so did his flame wielding partner when the camera panned out to include the violently swearing man in the frame.
There was a call of her name somewhere far away, but she couldn't react to it. All attention was hyper-focused on the screen. On the faces of the men who had hurt her friend. Men who had put all of those police officers in the hospital. The news kept saying their names were Leonard Snart and Mick Rory. But that was wrong. Those weren't their names. Not the names she knew them by.
But who better than her understood that the name someone used wasn't necessarily the name they were known for?
Her view of the screen was obstructed when someone stepped into her line of sight. She lifted her head to stare back into slate blue eyes set into the worried face of her roommate. Looking away, her gaze fell on Tony hanging back, watching them carefully. Watching her. Like she was something new, something different than she'd been just that morning at breakfast. Glancing down, she took in the fine tremor in her hands.
"Michela?" someone called again.
"I-" Her gaze bounced between both of her roommates. "I can't- Do this. I can't do this right now."
She turned on her heel and made for the door.
"Michela, wait!"
Bette had to stumbled back when the brunette rounded on her, arms up and fingers buried in her hair.
"Just-!" she near shouted before cutting herself off, "Not now. I can't do this. Just let me go."
And thankfully, the other woman made no moves to say or do anything else to keep her there. She even stepped back to stand next to Tony, who had crossed his arms over his chest. Unable to think of a single reassuring thing to say, all the Michela could do was nod as her arms slipped back to her sides and finally leave.
.
Her finger hovered over the call button. The glare cast over the screen of her phone by the harsh waiting room lights made the ID of the contact pulled up impossible to read. But she knew exactly who it was she was about to call. Numbly, she let the finger drop and then brought the phone to her ear. It rang and kept ringing.
"Looks like you missed me," came the teasing voice when it went to voicemail, "Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can."
"This is probably a little self-centered of me, considering the day you've had, but uh," Michela began, fighting her throat closing involuntarily on her, "My day just took a nosedive. I've said before that there's stuff in my background that's kind of questionable. And I always thought I knew exactly what secrets I was trying to keep from the world. But I guess I was wrong; I get it wrong sometimes. Shocking, right? I thought it couldn't get worse, but it did. Things can always get worse, I guess. Sometimes you find things out that you never wanted to find out. Things about people you thought you knew."
A beep interrupted her. She took a moment to pull the phone away and look. The caller ID read "Alisa." After a couple seconds of staring at it, she put her finger to the screen and slid from right to left until the "Call Ignored" sign flashed. Then she brought the phone back up and continued speaking.
"Everything is so messed up, and I don't know what's going to happen anymore. I have a lot to tell you, but I don't know how to say it yet. I just want to say now that- that I didn't know. I hope you believe that. And that I'm sorry."
She let the time run out on the voice message and let the recording save and send. It could've been minutes, it could've been another hour that she remained in that uncomfortable chair she was sat in. Her eyes kept trailing down the hall that led to the Burn Center of Central City Hospital where CCPD officers were still being treated for extreme burns.
Even now, she couldn't bring herself to ease their pain. But that didn't stop her from hurting herself anyway.
AN: Everyone do me a favor - look up "Rory Calhoun DC" for me. Also, hello! I've missed you all. It's been a rough month back at school, but I have something to share: I got to meet Rick Cosnett (Eddie Thawne) and Brandon Routh (Ray Palmer "The Atom") at a convention. They are actually the sweetest men, with the softest hugs known to humanity.
AN2: Edit 9-20-16, the last couple lines weren't reading right to me so I changed them.