Chapter 12: Personal
In the end $235 changed Vera's life. Well that and being the mastermind of a controversial prison program people still wanted to talk about.
She'd already paid $235 to attend the International Corrections and Crime-Management Professionals convention in Sydney before she'd been dumped as governor. The air tickets had already been supplied by the government. So, really, a free trip to Sydney for someone unemployed, aimless and freshly freed after homicide charges seemed like a good plan.
It was only halfway between the in-flight movie and ordering her chardonnay that it occurred to Vera that Wentworth's governor might also be in attendance at the conference.
"Can you bring me two?" she asked the flight attendant hoarsely, pointing at the wine. "Or, um, actually, three please."
God, what had she been thinking going to this thing?
The convention was in full swing, and between sessions she'd been learning about the ways in which the rest of the world locks up the underbellies of its societies.
She was holding fort with a New Zealander, an Englishman and a Norwegian – like some bad bar joke – who were peppering her with questions about her "One In, All In" system when a harried woman stormed past.
She then stopped, U-turned and peered at her. Listening. Then she smiled and interrupted.
"Ms Bennett? I thought that was you. May I have a word?"
Vera excused herself from her enthusiastic coterie of prison experts.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met?" Vera said.
"No, no, we haven't but I know all about your work. And judging by those in your circle, you've been impressing some of the world's leading experts in corrections. Sorry, I'm Mary. Mary Bridges. Conference co-ordinator. And I have a bit of a problem.
"The keynote speaker from Belgium missed his connecting flight in Singapore. I was wondering… how would you like to fill his spot? I know it's short notice and so on, but One In, All In is all anyone's talking about."
Vera blinked. "I can't just do the keynote speech on the spot! I haven't prepared. I haven't…" she waved her hand.
"I know, I know. It's OK, I'd explain what happened, explain you're just going to have a casual chat with them for an hour…"
"Hour!"
"Or two.."
"TWO?!"
"It's better than empty air. And you're a valuable source of information. A lot of people want to know whether your system works. You don't need a big speech for that, surely? Just talk about what you've seen, take a few questions. Very informal."
"I don't know…"
"I'll make it very clear to the gathering you had no prep time. They won't judge. You're fascinating to them."
Fascinating? Her? Vera had never in her life been called that word. She suddenly felt a foot taller. "OK," she exhaled. "Fine. When is it?"
The organiser glanced at her watch. "Can you be good to go in fifteen?"
Vera gave a half hysterical laugh and then nodded.
"You're a life saver. I'll make the announcement."
OK so it had been a pretty good speech. Vera, at least, had a lot of practice talking about the topic as she'd had to make the case to plenty of visiting dignitaries in her year in charge of Wentworth. At the end of the speech, the questions came. She answered them all honestly, directly, and at times with humour. She was just wrapping up when she heard a distinctive voice from the back of the room.
"If All In is so good, why isn't it in use in any prison in the world?"
Vera turned to see the imposing form of Joan Ferguson stepping out of the shadows. How apt.
"The worth of a thing is not judged by whether it's used, but how good it is when it's in use. That's true for everything from pencil sharpeners to TVs ... and governors," Vera replied smoothly to a few chuckles.
"Even your former prison won't use it, will they?" Joan persisted.
A low murmuring began to spread throughout the room. Few attendees were aware of this little fact.
"Governor Ferguson," Vera said, drawing herself up to full height, "the reason it is not used at my former prison is because you made sure it was discontinued when you resumed working there. Even though statistics showed it was working and very well, you threw it all out under a 'new broom' approach. It takes effort to make something good, and very little skill to tear it down."
Joan's eyes were glinting and she took several steps forward. "Actually, it was removed because of a class action against it. Breaches of prisoners' rights."
"Everyone in this room knows how often civil rights groups claim prisoners' rights are breached when in reality lawyers like to stir trouble to line their own pockets."
Many nods could be seen around the room.
"But in this case," Vera continued, "perhaps the room might be interested to know how the class action came about? Would you like to share with your peers how the prisoners got it into their heads to sue? Whose idea it was?"
"Wait," a prison CEO from Brisbane asked, flicking his incredulous gaze between Joan and Vera, "are you saying that a governor stirred up the legal vultures? Just to make trouble for your program? That's seriously effed up. We're all on the same side. Or we're supposed to be."
"I'm sure Ms Bennett isn't suggesting that's what happened," Joan said in a warning tone. "Are you?"
Vera stared at Joan, debating her answer, when the organiser, shooting them both worried looks, huffed out on stage.
"Well, I think that's all we have time for. Wasn't Ms Bennett a wonderful stand-in speaker? Really thought-provoking. Please give her a round of applause."
The applause was like thunder. Vera smiled graciously but her eyes slid back to the sly gaze of her predecessor. She exited the stage and headed straight for where Joan had been loitering. Only to discover she was nowhere to be found.
Vera finally caught up with her in the bathroom, washing her hands. For once, the male-dominated corrections hierarchy was a thing to be thankful for. No one else was in there.
"What the hell was that, Joan?" Vera demanded, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.
"You handled yourself well, Vera. Assertiveness becomes you," Joan drawled. "It's especially needed since you are spruiking a failed program and the room needed to be warned of its shortcomings."
"I wouldn't have had to 'handle' anything if you weren't being such an undermining asshole."
"Raising issues makes me an asshole does it?"
"My statistics stand on their own. The program works, Joan, if only your ego would let you see it."
"The program is a lawsuit in the making."
"Sure, if you agitate for that to happen."
Joan threw the paper towel in the bin and reached into her handbag for hand sanitiser. She lathered it over her hands.
"If not me, then someone else would." Joan's eyes flicked back up to her.
"Do you really hate me so much?" Vera asked, perplexed. "Or do you just shit-stir a great idea for no reason?"
"Isn't it what villains do?" Joan shot her a withering look and then stalked out of the room. Her footsteps were measured, her face cool. But her hand slammed the door behind her so furiously it creaked on its frame.
"Villains?" Vera repeated staring after her.
That's what this was all about? One stupid throwaway line?
It took eighteen months, but Vera was back on track. She had done well for herself. She now tutored in criminal affairs in academia. People the world over asked her to speak about her "All In" system. She regularly toured justice conferences. She had fame, if not fortune. She had a reputation in the wider community thanks to her media attention from challenging the notions of how prisons should be run.
And now she had the book to go with the package. Going All In.
Her tome's launch was being held at a business book centre in the city. All the movers and shakers of the corrections industry would be there. Her publisher had seen to it. (And offered free booze, which helped.)
Vera gave a quick speech, summarising her work, offered some amusing anecdotes and then allowed those who were interested to seek signed copies.
She was making steady progress when a book plopped on her desk, and long fingers she'd recognise anywhere, tapped it.
"Make it out to 'Miss Ferguson, Wentworth's best governor'. Sign it 'Little Mouse'."
Vera slid her eyes up to see mischievous ones staring at her intently.
To anyone else Joan would seem haughty, but Vera could see, just around the eyes, a tightness that usually didn't exist. No one knew her micro expressions quite so well as Vera.
So. Joan was nervous. And a little pissed off.
Vera said nothing, flicking open the cover and wrote. She slapped it closed again, handed the book back and looked past Joan.
"Next!"
Joan hesitated, glowered – apparently at the abrupt dismissal – and then moved away. Vera watched out of the corner of her eye as Joan opened the book to read her words.
Yes, you're a villain, Joan. But also a hero. You're many things, both terrible and brilliant. It's what makes you so human. And so very fascinating.
Vera Bennett. (No longer a mouse, little or otherwise)
"Hi, I'm Jason Hunter. Can you just sign it, please? No message. By the way I loved your speech you did last year in Wellington. Have you got any stats sheets I can show my CEO? I think I can talk him into trying All In. I think it'd be an ideal fit."
Vera's attention returned to her task. Without looking up again, she knew she was being watched. Studied. As was Joan's way.
She signed, smiled, made small talk and looked over her shoulder five minutes later. Joan was gone.
Wentworth's fiftieth anniversary was coming up. Every governor over the years was invited. Most were expected to decline, especially those dumped unceremoniously after a year, like Erica Davidson and Vera Bennett.
Vera had no qualms. She was now the most well-known star in the Australian corrections system, and just like returning to a high school reunion, she was going to show them all. To hell she was going to hide away as though she had anything to be ashamed of.
She would look them all in the eye – Her in the eye – assume her most confident pose, and own it. It's what Joan would do in her place. (Not that Vera cared about that anymore, she told herself.)
'What would Ferguson do' was a saying she'd long since dispensed with as unnecessary.
Vera dressed to kill. High heels, a tight black skirt, a white shirt, and a black jacket. The closest thing to her Wentworth jacket she could find. She tried not to analyse that one too hard. The memories it brought back, though, she thought about a lot.
Vera had glimpses of Joan circulating before the ceremony. Tall, proud, strong, with more slivers of grey at her ears, the woman looked as impenetrable as ever.
She was as impressive a woman as Vera had ever seen. She had long ago stopped even caring that she felt this way; that it should be wrong to be impressed by such a woman. Every word she'd written in that book inscription was true. Joan was both terrible and brilliant. And she still fascinated Vera, down to the sub-atomic level.
She made her way from the dry speeches towards the bathrooms to freshen up, nodding as she went by at any familiar faces. She was in a deserted corridor when a former colleague rounded the corner.
"Linda Miles!" Vera's face split into a smile. "Are you still working here?"
"Yeah, yeah. We can't all be some shit-hot superstar on a rise up the slippery pole." Linda gave Vera a shit-eating grin.
"Fuck off, Linda," Vera teased.
"I see your mouth hasn't improved." The prison guard gave her a matching grin.
Vera laughed. "How's it been, though? Under Ferguson Mark 2."
Linda shrugged. "She's the usual. But quieter. Doesn't say as much to anyone."
"Did she ever?"
"Well she liked to play with us a bit, remind us of our place. You know that. Doesn't bother with the games as much now." Linda leaned closer, her voice dropping. "We think she's got someone. There's something going on with her to take her eye off us."
"A lover?" Vera gasped as a ball of jealousy erupted inside. "Are you kidding?"
"Why? Is that so bizarre? She's legal. She's not ugly. Hell, if I batted for your team, I'd give her the side-eye, too."
Vera froze.
"Oh come on, you think we didn't know?" Linda chuckled. "It's OK. Everyone knew. Even Fletch and he was as dense as a black hole. We thought it was cute, your little old crush on the Freak."
"Don't call her that."
"Not so old a crush then?" Linda studied her curiously. "Well I s'pose you've missed your chance then. Sucks. When you two weren't trying to get each other thrown behind bars you were the perfect match."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" Linda peered at her. "Look, Vera, you're both a pair of don't-fit-in loners, anal up the wazoo, no friends, no family, no fun, can't keep your eyes off each other's asses. You were made for each other."
Vera stared at her. "She did not stare at my ass."
"How would you know? Got eyes back there? I notice you didn't deny that you stared at hers, though. Look I gotta go. Rounds. I'd offer to catch up for a beer but then you'd feel like you have to make an excuse to say no, so…"
"I'm not that bad."
"Yeah you are. But it's OK. Takes all sorts. Just look at her, if you ever doubt that. Good luck with everything."
"You, too, Linda."
The officer headed away and Vera resumed her journey, trying not to think about what she'd said. Ferguson wouldn't be seen dead looking at her ass. She was sure of it.
Before she'd realised it, she'd bypassed the bathrooms and found herself heading, on autopilot, on a very familiar route.
Vera came to a stop in front of the glass-windowed door of the Governor's office. Achingly familiar. And yet not.
Vera traced the letters… Governor Ferguson.
"Still mine, as you can see," a voice muttered in her ear.
Vera jumped almost a foot off the ground and turned to find the Governor. How on earth had she sneaked up on her? Was she half cat?
She forced a smile.
"I didn't think anyone else was up here."
"If you're here to break in and stake your claim on the desk, I assure you that won't be happening again any time soon."
The glittery smile sent a shiver down her spine.
"I never liked it as much as you," Vera admitted. "You were right about that."
"As I usually am."
Joan leaned forward, pulling a swipe card from her belt, and used it on the door. "But not always. After you."
She pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Vera headed in and looked around. She heard the soft click of the door closing. And a second click. The one she recognised as the door being locked.
She forced herself not to look at Joan and instead studied the room. Prisoner art was now gone from the walls, as was any signs of posters advertising the New Wentworth. Which made sense – the New Wentworth was only 'new' two years ago.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as Joan stepped inside her space.
"What do you want, Joan?" she asked, without turning.
Vera walked forward to the window to get some distance, and looked down at the courtyard. Some guests had spilled out into the exercise yard and were getting steadily merry.
"What do you think I want?
"I have no idea," Vera said. "I have no time for games anymore. Not even yours."
"Ah yes. The academic. So busy. How was the symposium in Tokyo last month? Are they ready to sign on to your Vera Bennett All-In System?"
"The Japanese liked it very much, but then their society is already geared that way. The group's needs outweigh the individual. I did a paper on it. I'd be happy to leave you a copy."
"I can't imagine the Americans were fans," Joan said, her voice lightly goading. "Their national identity is tied up with rugged individualism, is it not?"
"You'd be surprised. I'll email you my notes if you really give a crap. Which we both know you don't."
She said it more forcefully than she'd intended and turned to gentle her response. The words died in her throat when she found Joan right there.
Watching. Always watching.
Her breath caught.
"Never assume you know what I care about and don't," Joan said in soft warning.
"Well it's a safe bet that since you hate All In you won't want papers or emails on it."
"I read your book," Joan said, changing tack. "It was… so you."
"Let me guess? Silly. Ill-advised?" Vera rolled her eyes.
"Naïve. Hopeful. Optimistic. Questioning. Lower-case L liberal."
Vera turned. "You liked it?"
"I didn't say that."
"You hated it then?"
"I didn't say that either. I said it was 'you'. As for the inscription, that was the most unexpected part of the whole book."
"Joan," Vera said, relieved the opening had come up, "I'm so sorry you were hurt when I called you a villain. It was never my intention."
Joan's eyes hardened. "Don't be absurd. I don't get hurt so easily – even if it appears to be your aim in life these days."
"My aim? What about you? And by the way I could have crushed you at any time and I didn't."
"What are you talking about? No one has that power over me."
"The police wanted your name to charge you with stealing my morphine receipt and prescription."
"That's hardly 'crushing' someone." Joan shot her a mocking look.
"And that day you visited me in the cell? I knew you'd come by. I'd asked for a Dictaphone while I prepped my notes for the lawyer. I recorded our conversation. You confessed to hurting Spiteri. And Fletch. And Will. I had it all on tape. I could have destroyed you at any time, but I didn't. I didn't crush you."
Joan stared at her for the longest time.
"And yet you did," she hissed. "Crush. Wilfully." The words were said with a soft fury.
"W-what? How?"
"You left me, Vera."
"I did not! You threw me out. You told me to leave."
"Did it never occur to you that I was seeing whether you'd fight to stay?"
"No," Vera retorted. "Of course not. I don't play those games."
"And I am not a villain," Joan hissed. "I'm on the side of right! I will always fight for justice."
"Your version of it."
"What other version is there?"
Vera gave her a helpless laugh. "God, listen to yourself. You're so lacking awareness at times, it's absurd."
"And you're simply lacking. I expect people to fight for what matters. Failure to do so is weak. Disappointing."
An insult died on Vera's tongue as she connected the dots. "Wait, you wanted me to fight for us? Joan, what were we?"
"I already explained. I thought you understood. I told you quite clearly: I had everything I required. I looked right at you. But instead of understanding, you ran away."
Vera inhaled. "Everything? You meant … me? I thought you meant the job. That's why you wanted me to stay? It wasn't some big scheme? You just … missed me?"
Joan peered at her. "I didn't realise you were this slow."
"Charming. Do you use that line on your girlfriend?"
"My what?"
"Your officers think you've taken a lover."
"My officers have the brains of a stunted gnat."
"So, you don't?"
"Do you?"
Vera shook her head. "I find people pale into comparison to the one who impressed me most in life. And, ironically, who hurt me most."
"That would be an interesting coincidence," Joan's eyes slowly slid down Vera's body, "If I was admitting to be being hurt, also. Which I'm not."
Vera almost smiled until Joan's next words dried her mouth.
"By the way, bold outfit, Vera," Joan drawled. "Wear it just for me?"
"Everything's about you, isn't it?" Vera meant it sarcastically. It came out weirdly honest.
Joan's fingers drifted to Vera's hairline, trailing down to her ear. "You're going grey. Corrections does that to a person. I know."
Vera faltered at the touch against her skin. "Don't, Joan. Don't touch me unless you mean it. Unless it's personal."
Joan's fingers paused for the longest moment and then pointedly continued to trail down to Vera's neck.
Vera held her breath at the implication.
"Why did you leave me?" Joan asked. "Why didn't you fight to stay? Did I mean so little? Do I mean nothing to you now?"
"I already explained: I don't play those games," she said. "I didn't realise you wanted me to. Of course you don't mean nothing. That's impossible."
"Yet you were the one who told me the game wasn't over." Her fingers slid to the base of her neck. "Now you claim there was no game?"
"No! I didn't understand the game."
"Of course you did. You've been playing it with me from the day we met. You were my mouse. And we played. And then you scurried away from the big bad cat. The villain. Did you truly see me as so wicked? Do you think I let just anyone out of one of my traps? Yet I told you how to win your case.
"And do you think I let just anyone stay with me?" Joan continued.
"You said it was business."
"Getting my job back was business. I thought you understood the distinction."
"Joan… for god's sake…" Vera stared at her helplessly. "Shit."
"And here you are today… wearing that, for me. In my office. So what am I to think? What do you want? Is it just flesh? You wish to recreate the fantasy? The one from that night? The one that made you quiver and moan?"
Vera blushed hotly. Her eyes slid to the desk as she recalled the one she meant.
Joan laughed and it was that low, dirty sound that did funny things to her insides. "That's what I thought."
Vera found herself pushed, face first onto the desk, Joan's body pressed against her.
"If I recall," Joan taunted in her ear, "You liked it when I suggested I just wrench up your skirt…" she said, doing that roughly "And slide my hands…" Joan's fingers pulled down her stockings and cupped her ass, "inside."
Vera's panties were pushed aside and a single, long finger pressed between her intimate flesh.
"Joan," she whispered, feeling the finger stroking inside. "Oh god."
"That's it. So wet. Have you been thinking of this? Me taking you like this?"
"Yes. God. No."
"You seem unsure," Joan taunted her.
"No," Vera said. "No. Not like this."
The finger paused.
"How then?"
"Like our first time."
"In your mother's bedroom? A little kinky, but that house is sold."
"God no! At your home."
"I don't remember that time."
"You made love to me. That first time – you also let me touch you."
Joan took an eternity to move and finally slid off her. Vera twisted around and stood, wrenching her skirt back down. They stared at each other for a long time.
"I wasn't myself."
"I think you were. We didn't just have sex, and you enjoyed my touch. So my fantasy starts like this," Vera said. She leaned forward and kissed her. Joan's head reared back in shock.
"Too much? OK, then." She sank to her knees and slowly unzipped Joan's pants. She pulled them down her legs And ran her hands back up her firm thighs. Then she hooked her fingers in the black elastic above her pulled down her panties to her ankles.
"It ends here." She pressed her thumbs against Joan's lower lips, pulling them apart. She studied the wetness she found with satisfaction, and began to lick.
"No," Joan gasped. "No…I… Oh."
Vera pressed her tongue into the folds and began to suck at her, revelling in the taste of her. "So good," she mumbled against the softness. "You taste so beautiful. I've missed you. So much."
"Noo." Joan's hands raked through Vera's hair, pulling and tugging on it. Her fingers curled into her scalp, the pain arousing Vera even more.
Vera slid her finger into her as she also licked Joan's clit. It was larger than most, hooded and extended. It was the most glorious clit Vera could imagine. It was as imposing and erotic as Joan herself.
Joan's body thrust against her and Vera hung on for dear life. She suckled on her and impaled her with her fingers, revelling in her trembles.
"I want to hear you," Vera said. "Stop stifling yourself. Moan. Cry out!"
Joan stiffened at the instruction, her insolent, desire-hazed eyes sliding down to glare at her. Vera bit softly against her clit and the primal groan wrenched from her went straight to Vera's clenching centre. Joan moaned again, as though it was painful to do, and then came a rush of heated moisture that Vera lapped up.
She watched as the most fearsome officer to ever walk the halls of Wentworth suddenly quaked, her thighs twitching and then collapsed onto her knees beside Vera.
Vera gathered her in her arms, but was pushed aside.
"Joan?"
"Get out."
"Not this time. Not now. Never again."
"I don't want you. I don't want this."
"Really? Could have fooled me."
"I'm not you're pathetic little girlfriend."
"No, you're not. You're Joan. Who I care about. Who I deeply hurt by calling a villain. Who I cried over for two months when I had to leave her. Who followed my career for two years."
"Who got you arrested for murder."
"Who got me released."
"After I got what I wanted. After I'd won."
"After you'd won, sure. And yet it was personal."
"No. Never."
"Yes."
"I don't do personal."
"You just did."
"No. This was… it wasn't…"
"It wasn't business, Joan. It had to be personal."
"It was just a fuck."
"Joan." Vera clucked at her obvious lie. Joan had the good grace to look away.
"Vera, whatever you think can come of this, I'm not what you imagine. I can never be whatever fantasy you have of me in your head."
"You forget I know you. I know all your secrets. I know where you hide your chocolate-chip ice cream that you hate being tempted by."
Joan glared at her.
"I know you snore."
"Lies."
"Adorable snoring."
"That's worse."
"I know you hurt people when you're hurting. I know you wear those green pants when you feel depressed. And you love dogs and wish you were allowed to have one at your apartment. Knowing you, you're probably working out how to sneak one in, in defiance of the strata bylaws."
"How on earth…"
"The game is finally over, Joan. It's done. Stop playing. Start living. You wanted there to be an 'us' once, even if you wouldn't name it. Well I do, too. Let's do it."
"I can't."
"You can."
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's not possible! Don't you understand? Are you hard of hearing?"
"Why. Not?"
"It's … I..."
"Joan?"
Brown eyes bored into her. "I'm afraid." Her lip curled in disdain. "Happy now?" She pushed herself back to her feet and angrily crossed to the far side of the room.
Vera fought not to react. "I know you are. Me, too. It's OK. It's human."
"I'm not…"
"Human?" Vera laughed. "Yeah, you are. You're just scarier than most. But you're fascinating as well. I guess that's why I love you."
That hung between them like an unburst grenade.
Vera blushed.
Joan walked to the window and looked outside. "I need to water my African violet," she said abruptly. "It's not… I think I forgot yesterday. I've had much on my mind. It's…" Her voice was halting.
"It's OK, no problem. We can go home and do that." She emphasised the 'we'.
"It's not... It's what it means," Joan snapped. "Standards are slipping. My standards never slip. I don't allow it. I've become unfocused since you entered my life."
Her back was rigid.
"Hey," Vera said, walking over to her. "It's going to be OK."
"You left me, Vera. You are as fickle as the day is long. You cannot be trusted with..."
Her heart?
Just once it'd be nice if Joan finished a sentence.
"That's not true," Vera said laying a hand on her back. "I thought you threw me aside. Damn you, I cried over you."
"You ... cried?"
"Yes, I was a bloody mess. But I came back. Not going anywhere. OK? I will always come back. I love you!"
She dared her to disagree.
"Vera," Joan ground out and then seemed at a loss as to what to say next.
Vera tilted her head up. "It's so bright in here. Your light? It's weird, isn't it? Shouldn't the sun be coming from over there? But it's everywhere. And so harsh."
"I don't think about that," Joan said firmly, pulling Vera's attention back to her. "I've discovered I'm happiest lately when I don't get diverted by details. It's so easy to get swallowed in them. On that note," she turned into Vera, "you are an unobjectionable housemate. You're right there should be an us. We are suited and attuned to each other. Come home with me."
"You want me to live with you?"
"Yes."
"As a housemate? So romantic. Your delivery is..."
"Fine," Joan rolled her eyes. "Not just as a housemate."
"I swear if you call this business…" Vera folded her arms. "If you tell me two can live more cheaply than one, so help me I'm enrolling you in a wooing course."
Joan laughed then, low and rich and Vera felt her stomach do a half-pike with a somersault.
"God, Joan," Vera complained helplessly. "Stop doing that, you're crippling my ovaries."
"Did you really not understand that I bought that spare bed in my home especially for you? The way you like it? Extra firm? That I painted the room in your favourite colour? Myself? Did you miss all of this last time? Not to mention that hideous wine you prefer. It pained me to ask for so noxious a substance. I have a reputation after all."
Vera blinked at the revelations and was derailed when Joan smiled. Confident, controlled, dangerous. She would be her undoing, no doubt about it.
"Vera, it's obviously not business. Definitely not. It's personal."
She kissed her then, an abrupt, possessive touch of lips to her neck, cheek and finally her mouth. "And it's pleasure," her lips murmured against Vera. "Or it will be soon. Come home with me. And I'll show you."
"Show me what?" Vera asked breathlessly. Knowing, of course, but desperate to hear it.
"Why Vera," Joan husked. "Everything. You're not the only one capable of love. Even villains love too."
"You're not a villain. Or a freak. Or any of that."
Joan merely smiled. "Oh, my little mouse." She held out her hand which Vera took. "It's time to go. I'm ready now."
A/N: Although I usually never say never, this is my last fic of any fandom, forever. It's time I focused on my books and fics have been splitting my focus. I've spent the past six months finishing them all off. Speaking of books, in August my freakytits AU novel, Requiem for Immortals (by me, Lee Winter) comes out. "Joan" is a professional cellist and secret assassin; "Vera" her target - a woman so innocent that Joan can't bring herself to kill her, or work out why she is targeted. I hope you'll check it out. Thanks to all my fans and followers over the years. Feel free to say hi on Twitter: LeeWinterOz.
