Disclaimer: I own nothing

Chapter 14

Eli groaned and tossed his controller to the floor as Adam hooted in obnoxious victory. He leaned back on the couch and glared at his friend as the younger boy conducted an impromptu shuffle on the living room floor. It was Friday afternoon and Eli had asked Clare to come over after school, but she gave him some excuse about helping her mom out with a few things. Craving company, he had resorted to inviting Adam over to play video games.

"Alright, you can stop now." Eli spat while rolling his eyes.

Adam ceased his ministrations and quirked his eyebrow, "What's got your skinny jeans in a twist?"

Eli ignored the direct insult to his wardrobe, "Nothing, " he shook his head, "I'm bored, let's do something else."

"Oookay…" Adam could tell that something was on his mind. He set his controller down and turned off the Xbox. He took a seat next to Eli, "Just tell me, man." He sighed.

"It's Clare." Eli croaked.

"Shocker." Adam muttered under his breath. Despite his own burgeoning courtship with Fiona, Adam hadn't failed to notice Clare's aloofness at school. With the all the family problems Clare had been faced with this year (divorce, disappearance, death) , Adam was somewhat surprised she hadn't had a nervous breakdown yet.

"I don't know, man. Like, yesterday after her hangover finally wore off, things were almost back to normal." He played with a loose thread on his shirt, "But today, she just acted and looked so…dead." Eli stammered on the last word. "Not physically dead, but emotionally." He turned to look at Adam, worry etched on his face, "It's distressing."

"Has Clare…talked about her dad or sister?" Adam inquired.

Eli scoffed, "Every time I bring up that subject, she changes it. We're supposed to come to each other with our problems, that's what a relationship is! But I don't know, it's like she can help me with my problems, but she won't even tell me about hers!" he finished, bitterly.

A thought occurred to Adam, "Well, what if she doesn't have any hang-ups on it? I mean, she never talked about her sister, so I can only imagine what their relationship was like. And her dad, well, from what I can tell he kept a pretty short on leash on her."

Eli stared at him in confusion, "What are you trying to say Adam? That she feels nothing over the loss of her family?"

"Well, no, but-"

He cut him off, "Clare's not like that." He said firmly, "She's the most caring I've ever met." He sighed, "the most caring, stubborn person I've met."

Adam swallowed hard, unsure of what to say next. Despite his better judgments, he decided to tread on dangerous territory.

"Not that it's really any of my business, but, how is your uh- physical relationship with Cl-Clare?" he stammered. In recent months, Eli had alluded to things between him and Clare heating up; but as of recently he had not mentioned and intimate conquests with Clare.

Eli fidgeted uncomfortably, "I-uh, haven't really tried anything since everything went down." He pursed his lips, "but I get the feeling that she wants me to."

Adam cleared his throat, "Go on…"

"It's not like I don't want too, but I can't help but feel that doing anything like that will have bad results. She's in mourning, Adam." He reminded his friend, "Even if she doesn't show it."

"So you're afraid that by making a move on her she might…what?" Adam asked, "Have some sort of breakdown.'

"I just don't want to push her into anything that she'll end up regretting later. I don't want her to ever have regretful thoughts about me." He finished.

"Well, time heals all wounds." Adam said lamely.

Eli scoffed at his clichéd comment, "Very original Torres."

Sleep. That was the only thing on Clare's mind. Dreamless, drug-induced sleep that would hopefully remained uninterrupted. But her desire was shot down before she could even step inside her home. An all too familiar blue SUV was parked out front of house. Shane was waiting for her on the stoop.

She sighed, "What are doing here?"

"I need you to help me something, but more importantly, I need to help you with something." Shane answered.

She shook her head, fighting off sleep; "What's that supposed to mean?"

Shane stood up and pulled out his keys, "Get in the car, I'll explain on the way there." He began walking towards his chariot, only to realize that Clare was not following him. "Come on," he goaded, "we don't have much time."

"Time for what?" Clare groaned. This was not how she wanted to spend her afternoon.

"I'll explain on the way over, get in." he said firmly, pointing to the SUV.

"No." Clare answered simply.

"No?" he mimicked her.

"No, I haven't slept in over 36 hours and I'm trying to change that." She turned on her heel and walked up the steps to her house. Shane bounded after he, grabbing her arm firmly.

"Please, I just really need your help with something, it won't take long."

"Shane, I'm exhausted." She reiterated.

Shane smirked and reached into his jacket pocket, "I got something for that." He flung a bag containing white powder at her. Clare raised her eyebrows at his offer, it had been a while since she did coke.

"Bribing me with drugs?" she asked jokingly.

"It's always worked in the past." He pointed out.

Clare sighed and nodded her head in defeat. "Okay, but let's make this fast." Cocaine had always been a rare thing for them; considering the drug's highly addictive lure, Clare always approached the drug with restraint. A couple lines was all it took to understand the drug's appeal; despite the overpowering feeling of alertness and joy the drug brought, Clare made it a point to never seek cocaine, but let it find her.

"Quick and dirty, that's my style." he quipped.

They loaded into Shane's car and drove off. Shane handed her a minuscule spoon which she dipped into the bag and brought to her right nostril, inhaling the fine powder into her system. She did it once more to her other nostril before dabbing a small amount on her finger and spreading over her gums. A delightful numbing sensation took over her mouth and throat as her senses heightened and exhaustion was replaced with a positive energy.

"Feel better?" Shane asked, eyes still on the road.

"Much." Clare smiled, "Where are we going anyway?"

Shane chuckled, "Don't worry. You'll recognize the place." A few minutes later, Shane pulled onto a street that Clare indeed recognized; Shane's old neighborhood. The area itself was not what one would call "ideal real estate", most of the houses were rented to college students and low-income families; quite a few residences were boarded up with aging eviction notices posted on their doors.

The car stopped in front of the house that Shane once shared with his mother; the house where Clare had committed crimes worthy of incarceration and enough sins to guarantee eternity in hell. Luckily in truth, Clare held no beliefs about the afterlife.

"What are we doing here?" she asked

"You'll see." Shane grinned as he hopped out of the car. Clare followed suit and made her way to the front door. Dismantled plywood littered the front porch, a sign that were not intruding on any new occupants.

Shane led her into the house and on the all-too familiar route to the basement. It was too dark to for Clare to see what was down there, but several visible shadows on the wall indicated that he had re-arranged what was left of the furniture. Shane reached up and pulled on the chord to the light, dimly illuminating the room.

Clare let out a rare gasp of shock.

In the middle room was a table that she remembered seeing upstairs in the past, situated in the Newman's rarely used dining room. On top of the table lay an unconscious man, stripped of his clothing and held in place with a generous amount of plastic wrap and duct tape. Underneath the table sat a blue plastic tarp that was normally used for painting indoors.

She turned to Shane who was smiling widely, "Clare, meet Esteban, a soon to be former associate of mine."

"You work for this guy?" she asked.

"No, I worked with him. Esteban never would've made management material in my business; especially since we found out he's been working as a Criminal Informant for the police department. He's willing to bring down dozens of hard working individuals like myself, just so he can get off easy on a few drug charges." Shane explained, "Little bitch couldn't stand the idea of going to prison and keeping and his job when he got out, which is why I was asked to make him disappear by any means necessary." He finished with a sinister smile.

Clare nodded, "So why am I here."

"Because you need this."

"Need what?" she asked with confusion.

Shane reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her towards Esteban's slumbering form. "You need to get back in the swing of things. I know you think I can't tell, but you haven't been yourself lately. You've been distracted by your other life, " he paused. "How long has it been since we put down Randall? A month?"

"Thirty three days." Clare answered. She had been keeping track.

"It's time to move on."Shane said simply. Clare did not need him to explain why. Much like the situation with Darcy, Clare had no real desire to kill Randall. The pent up hostility was something that could be dealt with through insults and youthful defiance; there was no premeditated longing to put either of them in the dirt. Certain circumstance made it necessary.

"Wake him up." Clare ordered. Shane smirked and made his way over to Esteban, Clare followed suit and examined the man before her. He was old, but not that old. Possibly in his late twenties or even early thirties with tan skin and jet black hair that signified his background as a Hispanic man even more than his name. Clare noticed a ball gag strapped around his face, she smirked at Shane.

"Kinky," she commented on the piece.

He smiled at her weakly, "Yep that's me. I'd rather try not to remember where I found it though."

Clare couldn't resist, "Where'd you find it."

He grimaced, "Mom's room." Clare broke in giggles at his expression. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Esteban.

Shane slapped him roughly across the face.

"Up and at 'em!" he called out. Esteban's eyes fluttered open and quickly transitioned from confused to panicked, darting back and forth to examine his prison, but the only thing he could see was the ceiling.

Shane handed her a meat cleaver he must've scavenged from the kitchen. It's blade was noticeably dull and the wooden handle was cracked in several places.

"We need to make this fast, no time to exchange pleasnetries and hollow threats." He told her, "I rented a boat earlier today for easy disposal. I have to get the keys back by sundown." He finished, somewhat frantically.

Clare nodded. "No sense in wasting time." She agreed. She planted her feet shoulder width apart and brought the cleaver above her head. Esteban's eyes widened as he tried to shake his head free from the tape that secured it to the table. Muffled wails could be heard behind the ball-gag in his mouth. She brought it down fast and hard on his throat.

Blood spurted out from the wound, hitting both teens with it's spray. "Fuck!" Shane exclaimed, "We should've worn ponchos."

Clare, who was still dressed in her uniform, wasn't as upset. She just made a mental note to dispose of it later; she had three more sets just like it at home.

"Good job." Shane nodded while examining the stains on his t-shirt.

"What next?"

Shane handed her a pair of yellow dish washing gloves and a hacksaw. "Disassemble, pack and dispose." He said softly.

Clare dropped the last garbage bag into the water below, watching it's shadow become enveloped into the darkness that was Lake Ontario. She turned to Shane, who was watching her with a look that could only be described as infinite sadness.

"What?" she questioned.

"I know I must've asked this question a thousand times by now, " Clare sighed heavily, knowing what this was all about, "but, why can't we be together."

"You bring out the worst in me." Clare reminded him.

"No," Shane shook his head, "I bring out the truth in you." He turned away and took his seat behind the steering wheel, revving the boat's engine back to life.

Clare bit her lip and took a seat in the chair next to Shane, wrapping the wool jacket he had lent her tight around her frame. The sun was threatening to go down and air on the lake was about twenty degrees lower than on land. They had decided to burn their blood soaked clothing after chopping up Esteban. Clare had raided what was left of Mrs. Newman's closet, pleasantly surprised by the selection of clothing better suited to twenty-something year olds than a middle aged mom. She had opted for a pair of dark skinny jeans, white v-neck shirt, a pair of battered grey Keds and one of Shane's flannel shirts.

Shane broke the silence, "You don't have to do this to yourself."

"Do what?"

"Everything," he said pushing a stray hair from his eyes, "Living the way you do; if you think about it, it's not really your life to live. It's the life Randall forged for you." Shane explained.

Clare narrowed her eyes at him, "I don't have anything besides this life and-" she stopped.

"And what?" Shane pressed.

"And shattered pieces of the one I used to have. Pieces that I rather not deal with."

"You mean that dream you sometimes have?" Shane was the only one besides Randall who knew about the dreams. He could level with her more so than Randall on the subject; Shane himself was the victim of night terrors recounting his father's live cremation.

"I found out that he changed my name."

"Just as I always thought, the identity of Clare Edwards is one that was born out of the dark." Shane said in a faked thoughtful tone. Clare chuckled at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, my biological mother named me Maya."

Shane nodded in appreciation, "Maya- I like that, it's pretty." He said genuinely. "Not as pretty as you but-"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Newman." Clare said in a faked harshness. Shane laughed lightly.

"But seriously, think about it. You could just…leave all this behind," his voice was thoughtful, luring, "Pack a bag, hop a freighter, hitch a ride, hijack a plane, whatever." He rambled on, "The one person who had you tied down to this life is dead." He pointed out, "We both know Helen isn't worth wasting your time on. She has nothing left, and you were never really hers to begin with."

"I can't just leave, Shane." Clare sighed, although she could admit to herself that idea was appealing.

"Can't…or won't?" Shane asked teasingly. The marina was now in sight, Shane slowed the boat down to a near stop; the only thing pushing them along was the current. He turned towards his best friend. "You'd be better off, less stressed. You're smart enough to get by without a diploma and I could put you in contact with some people who could help you out with money."

Clare groaned, "I am not having sex for money, Shane."

Shane scoffed, "Not that."

"I'm not selling drugs for money." Clare corrected herself.

"Good, because I think you would make a better mercenary." He said seriously. He pushed the throttle forward and gently steered the boat into the marina, next to the rentals dock.

"Let's just drop the subject." Clare said while hopping onto the dock from the boat. Shane tossed her the boat's docking line; she tied it to a post while Shane turned off the boat and collected his things. He joined her on the dock, walking side by side towards land.

"Just think about, okay?" Shane's voice was completely serious. "You don't have resort to a life of crime, but you would be better off-"

"By leaving Toronto, the only home I've ever known?" Clare asked huffily. Shane stopped in his tracks, placing the boat keys in the return box attached to the vacant rentals booth. He turned to her, blank faced and calm.

"No-" Shane said firmly, " by being who you really are."

Clare sighed, "It's not that I'm afraid to be who I am, I just know it won't end well. It never ends well."

Shane smirked knowingly, "Haven't gotten caught yet have you?"

"I have told you about Scruffy, right?" she asked, annoyed with Shane's persistence.

"Only about fifty times." He groaned. Clare's disposal of Scruffy was an innocent accident in Shane's eyes; he had killed his fair share of pets before meeting her. Anyone else would've read it as a cry for help, a signifier of something dark.

"Take me home, Shane."she mumbled, growing bored of their conversation. And he did just that.

Shane pulled up in front of Clare's empty house and turned to her. "Thanks for helping me out." He said softly.

"Thanks for forcing me to come." Clare smiled back, her mood had turned around during the silent car ride home. She wasn't quite sure why. Shane's revelation had opened not a new door for her per-see, but rather shined light on an option she had never considered. All she needed was the gall and motivation to go through with it. Every part of the mask was slowly slipping away, her family, her forged faith, Eli. But Shane, and his unique understanding of her, remained constant.

But as long as she did have Eli in her life (and things didn't go sour between them), there were no plans of desertion.

"See? Just what you needed right?" he grinned knowingly.

"Shut up." Clare laughed. Shane joined in on her laughter, even though there was really nothing funny about what they had just done. Their laughs slowed into chuckles and then relieved sighs. Shane looked over and began to lean in across the seat.

Clare surprised even herself by mimicking Shane's movements; their faces met over the center consul of the car, lips meeting with a softness that was uncharacteristic for both of them in this situation.

Shane's heart fluttered with anticipation, expecting Clare to pull back and deliver a punch to his face; but it never happened. Clare moved her lips against his, breaking through his mouth with her tongue; and then- all hell broke loose.

Their oral ministrations went from soft to intense, tongues working against each other as Clare dug her fingers in Shane's hair and pulled hard. Shane moaned and placed his hands on her waist, over the center consul. In the past, their intimacy had never been worthy of the label "soft", but their current actions were almost going too far in its intensity. She wasn't sure if they were kissing or trying gnaw each other's faces off.

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and Clare pulled back; before he could even question her, Clare had unbuckled herself and crawled over the center consul, straddling his lap. Shane took the hint and pushed his seat so that her ass wasn't resting on the steering wheel. Their mouths found each other again, even harder than before.

Shane, feeling somewhat daring, reached up between them and cupped her breasts firmly. When she didn't pull away, he began massaging them, being sure to run his thumbs over her clothed nipples. He was rewarded by a low moan that Clare released into his mouth as she began rocking her hips back and forth over his growing hardness.

It was like Shane had spotted the bubble of unreleased sexual tension insider her and smashed it with a hammer. Eli had never kissed her so aggressively, ever. Not even before her life started to crash down around her. That thought appeared to Clare as Shane began moving his hand up her shirt.

Reluctantly, she broke her mouth away from his and stopped his hands from going any farther. Shane met her eyes, breathing just as heavily as her. He gave a questioning look, unsure if he should apologize or yell at her for leading him on. He was relieved (and confused) when Clare gave him a sad smile and lifted herself off of his lap, turning her body back into the passenger seat.

Shane took a deep breath, "Well," he said, nodding, "that was fun." Clare looked over at him with a mixture of confusion and smugness as the car grew silent. Without warning, they both broke into hilarious laughter. Clare couldn't help but notice the front windows had managed to fog up; she wasn't even aware they had been kissing that long.

She hit the defrost button on the dashboard, "Don't get used to it." She smirked.

"Sad to hear it." Shane said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice with a teasing tone.

Clare chuckled and shook her head, "I just kind of…needed that and Eli-"

He cut her off, "You don't have to explain anything. I know he's been holding out on you lately."

"Hah, yeah. Fuckin' tease." Clare joked. Shane snickered as she smoothed out her clothes and opened the passenger door.

"Thanks again." She smiled, "The basement, the lake, just now- I really needed it." She reiterated, making sure he felt appreciated.

"Not even going to thank me for the drugs?" he teased. Clare rolled her eyes playfully and closed the door. Shane shot her one last smile from the driver's seat and drove off. She walked up to her front door, while fishing for her house keys in her shoulder bag; the sun had gone down and the only light source available were the ancient street lamps on her street.

Clare cursed under her breath as she set her bag on the front steps and knelt down to conduct a more through search. Had she left them in Shane's car? Just as the thought occurred, a distinctive blow of a car horn diverted her attention; but the honk did not emit from a blue SUV, but rather a vintage hearse.

"E-Eli?" Clare stammered as the boy in question got out of the car and quickly made his way towards her.

From his lips came four words that no one, anywhere, in any form of a relationship wanted to hear:

"We need to talk."

Haha cliffhanger. Don't jump. Next installment will be up soon