See . . . the other story to kind of trickle through is helping . . .
Better in the Morning
Chaosia shifted, trying to get comfortable as her pillow moved-again- before finally grumbling and turning over completely. She furrowed her brow, mind slowly waking up.
Why was her pillow moving?
She opened her eyes, blinking at the harsh morning light pouring in through the windows as she tried to figure out where in her house she actually was. She remembered coming up to the Media Room and grabbing the water, trying to keep herself from consuming anything even remotely alcoholic as she worked to make sense of what happened . . . . She remembered Sphinx coming in with Donnie, both knocking back the beer she'd been keeping herself from before Don had drifted off to sleep in one of the arm chairs. She also recalled her and Sphinx's quiet conversation . . . and her laying her head on his chest. And that was all she wrote.
She sighed, turning to look up at her brooding-and snoring- fiancé. He'd apparently gotten as far as she had-which was the sofa-before the late night shift and the cross continental drama caught up with him. Now he was spread across the sectional, one leg slightly bent at the knee with his foot on the ground, with his right arm wrapped around her shoulders loosely while his left arm was slung across his eyes . . . blocking the sun that had blinded her after his shifting had woken her up. His chest rose and fell steadily . . . but she was having to fight back laughter at the fact that he and Donnie-who was still in his chair, though the empty beer bottle had slipped to the plush rug and fallen on its side- were snoring almost in synch. With his treasured hat slung low over his face.
She shook her head, extracting herself from his hold so she could go and check on Jacqueline. She still had to call the dress shop and cancel the fittings for today, check on when her family would be inbound and call Paul for back-up . . . but first she was going to force her stepsister to take a nice long bath in her master bathroom's tub. Then they were going to have an in-depth conversation about just what the hell had been happening in London while they waited on their parents . . .
Jacqueline shifted, trying to resettle herself in a more comfortable position in the surprisingly soft bed as she fought the urge to burst into tears again. She'd woken up a few hours before in a near frenzy, clutching her searing side disoriented and more than a little confused before the events of the past few days had come crashing down on her. And after she'd collected herself enough to realize she wasn't in England and that she'd actually made it to the safety her stepsister's American home-and long standing quarrel with Ambrose- would mean; she'd collapsed into tears. Why was this happening to her? To them?
She'd been in love with Ambrose Windom since her step-brother Bastian had brought him into their home . . . right after a very brutal encounter with the owner of the house she was in. She shook her head smirking as she remembered the encounter. Her mother hadn't even been married to Prometheus Guadimus ten months when he'd practically blackmailed his daughter into visiting. Jacqueline could admit to herself that she had been jealous of the easy way father and daughter interacted-something she lost the day her own had been taken from her . . . as well as the loving reception she'd received from pretty much every staff member and friend of the Guadimus House.
But she'd been more insulted that the girl had been allowed to run around in the most appalling clothes the entire time she was in their house. Her jeans and trousers paired with the tanks and tees covered by cardigans were not what was generally accepted within the London social circles . . . but she hadn't cared. Which made her pretty much the same as her grandmother. Just like she hadn't cared what any of her or her mother's friends had to say when they'd come calling; opting to eat in the smaller staff's kitchen and visit with said grandmother than entertain . . . until Bastian had drug Ambrose-and the cynical sarcastic Augustus Dashell of all people- to one of their dinners to meet his new family.
Things had gone pretty well, Augustus and her new stepfather carrying on their own private conversation while she and her mother had tried to ignore the argument brewing between Chaosia and Ambrose . . . despite it's rising volume and intensity. But Ambrose finally pushed the wrong button when he leaned across the table-with a wicked little smirk and wink in her direction-and had whispered something to Chaosia. No one had expected the girl-who had been all smiles and sarcasm when they'd purposefully pushed her buttons before-to lunge at the smirking boy and slug him so hard in the face they'd heard his nose crunch. Augustus had sprung into action with Prometheus, grabbing Chaosia and dragging her into the study while she and Bastian had moved Ambrose into the kitchen to wait for the doctor her mother had rushed to call . . . while Lady Guadimus had laughed and sipped her tea. Obviously enjoying the anarchy her granddaughter had brought to her dinner table.
She'd talked with Ambrose while they'd waited; and she'd held his hand while the doctor had set his nose and cleaned the small cut on his lip. He'd laughed at her jokes, letting her actually talk about things other than clothes and fashion and how wonderful it was to be a member of a House . . . . And she'd listened and agreed about how uncivilized her new stepsister was. By the time he'd left, she'd been hooked . . . and it had taken her almost three years to make the man look at her as something other than an occasional lover.
When she'd gotten pregnant they'd only been officially dating about six months-though they'd been sleeping together off and on since they'd met- and she had been thrilled. She loved the snotty but brilliant heir . . . and had been heartbroken when he'd huffed and insisted she go to a clinic-outside of London of course- and have an abortion. They'd argued and fought for almost a month until she'd finally broken down and explained to her mother what was happening. And God had her mother-and Prometheus astonishingly-been pissed . . . but she'd worked hard to fix it.
And until this she'd thought they had. The Lord and Lady Windom had been thrilled to have a grandchild in their immediate future . . . and had put an end to all talks of abortion and signing away Ambrose's rights. They'd decreed that they would be married and that Ambrose would honor those marriage vows or they would strip him of his power and his position . . . and he'd seemed to have accepted it. He'd warmed up to the idea, helping her pick names and look for smaller house for the two of them-because he hadn't wanted to stay with either of their parents after they married- and talked about nurseries and schools and the future she wanted.
So when he'd surprised her with the offer of the lake house-to unwind and relax before they prepared for their own upcoming nuptials at the end of March-she'd been thrilled . . .
She shuddered, shaking herself as she turned to the knock on the door. She wiped her face, grimacing at the tears she hadn't even known were falling before sitting up and drawing the thick comforter around her shoulders. She was pretty sure it was Chaosia coming to check on her . . . but with who else shared this house she'd rather be safe than sorry. She cleared her throat and called out.
"Come in . . ."
Better to go ahead and get this over with . . .
Chaosia pushed open the door and had to fight to keep from flinching. Jacqueline looked a little better in the morning light; the dark rings under her eyes were no where near as pronounced as the bruising and other marks against her skin . . . and Chaosia was sure that after a bath-and the make up Paul was bringing-the girl would look almost like her old self. Now if only they could wipe away the damage that all of this had undoubtedly done as easily then maybe the girl currently disappearing in the billowing blanket might actually be okay. But she knew herself that the blowback from an attack was devastating . . . and the psychological scars were almost always worse than the physical ones.
She stepped in, offering her stepsister a smile and was thankful to see the tentative tilt of lip she got in return. She moved to sit on the foot of the bed, laying the folded clothes and towel in front of the other girl. Jacqueline looked over the clothes with a mix of skepticism and hope before she turned her eyes back up to Chaosia.
"Please tell me those are for me . . . And that those pants are not stretchy . . ."
Chaosia laughed, nodding as she settled onto the bed. Only Jacqueline could be in this situation and still be so damn picky about what she was going to wear. She reached out, pulling the clothes out of their careful folds to show her stepsister what she'd brought her. The cable knit cashmere sweater was super soft and long enough that it would cover the bump. And the pebble gray would look well enough against her complexion-and the makeup they were eventually going to do-to help mask some of the worst bruising. The jeans she'd brought her would stretch without looking too much like leggings or maternity pants . . . which she knew they would have to eventually force Jacqueline into with the way she was carrying.
She smirked, watching her stepsister trace her fingertips over the lush shirt before looking up to her hopefully. Chaosia reached out, laying her hand over Jacqueline's and squeezing sympathetically before nodding towards the door.
"C'mon, kiddo. You're going to go take a nice, hot bath in my monster of a tub . . . and then my oh-so-loyal hairdresser is going to do something about-" She motioned to her dirty and ratty tresses –"the state of all of this . . . ."
Jacqueline looked up at her, eyes watering as her bottom lip quivered. Chaosia knew from that look to brace for impact but still barely caught her as she lunged, sobbing into her chest. She sighed, petting her hair as she rocked her. And trying so desperately to soothe the hurt she knew she was feeling . . . Finally, she looked up at her, tears falling down her battered and bruised cheeks as she asked the question that broke Chaosia's heart.
"Why is this happening to us, Chaosia? What did I do that was so horrible to deserve this? What did my baby do?"
Chaosia sighed, pulling her back into her chest as she petted her hair again; resting her cheek against the crown of Jacqueline's head as she tried to think of what to say. What could she say?
"Nothing, honey. You didn't do anything to warrant this . . . He's just an asshole honey. And we'll fix it . . . Your baby is never going to have to worry about this. I swear . . ."
Jacqueline looked up with hopeful eyes as Chaosia wiped her tears away, cautious of her broken cheek.
"Promise? How could you know, Chaosia? How are you sure?"
Sphinx made his way down the hallway stiffly, going to check on Jacqueline before he went to his own bed to sleep. Donnie had been woken up and made to stretch out on the sectional before he'd descended the steps to the main level of the house. Hell, he'd even been kind enough to draw the blinds so Don wouldn't have the sun blaring in his face . . . the same way he had. He grunted, stopping in front of the guest room Jacqueline was in as he ran his palm over his face. He'd woken up in the Media Room, blinded by the sunlight in his eyes and disoriented . . . with a huge crick in his neck and back. And without his fiancé.
He heard voices and knew that both of the girls were inside . . . and he needed to check on Jacqueline before he went to try and sleep. Her side needed to be properly seen to now that she was awake and then he could go take a hot shower and crawl in his massive bed. He might even be able to convince Chaosia to come with him . . .
He pushed the door open, totally unprepared for what he heard and saw. He watched Jacqueline looked up with hopeful eyes as Chaosia wiped her tears away, overly cautious of her broken cheek as her fingers barely touched the darkened skin. His future wife looked down at the girl with so much conviction that he knew she would stand behind whatever she promised the broken girl in her arms. And he knew that he would have to stand with it. He just hoped she wouldn't promise something they couldn't deliver . . .
"Nothing, honey. You didn't do anything to warrant this . . . He's just an asshole honey. And we'll fix it . . . Your baby is never going to have to worry about this. I swear . . ."
"Promise? How could you know, Chaosia? How are you sure?"
"I promise, Jacqueline . . . And I know because no matter what happened or happens with us that you're a part of our family now. And that man snoring away in our Media Room is dead set against letting anything happen . . . It's what you do for family . . ."
Jacqueline nodded, laying her head against Chaosia's chest again as Sphinx watched them. The girl, even being held and comforted by another person, had her hands on her stomach . . . trying to defend her child from the horror she was living. He sighed, knowing he needed to break this up . . . and almost cringed at the look Chaosia leveled on him when he tapped on the door and they both jumped. He knew she hadn't slept now . . . and she was not going to be pleasant for anyone else to deal with . . . Great.
Jacqueline looked up, flinching as she saw him before she settled back into Chaosia's hold. He winced. He hadn't meant to scare them . . . Chaosia rolled her eyes as she glanced down at Jacqueline, who was blushing because she'd freaked.
"I swear I need to get him a damn bell . . . he's worse than the Cat . . . ."
Sphinx rolled his eyes skyward but was thankful for the weak little chuckle their guest gave as she pulled away to sit up on her own. She nodded to him and he had to fight the urge to hop a flight to London. He knew that they would see to this-because he doubted even if Guadimus would let it go unpunished that he himself would be able to- but God he wanted to do it now.
He sank onto the foot of the bed beside Chaosia, motioning to Jacqueline's side.
"How's your side? You having any trouble breathing? Any sharp pains?"
She shook her head, looking from him to Chaos before her cheeks flushed. Which only made the bruising on the left side of her face seem black. And his blood boil. Chaosia reached back and laid a hand on his leg, obviously aware of what he was feeling. Ambrose would bleed for this . . . not just for touching an unarmed and defenseless woman but for daring to do anything to upset his future wife . . . . He might be his own special brand of fucked but he had his principles . . .
"No . . . it's tender but no shooting pains or anything . . . Is anything broken?"
Sphinx shrugged before he reached out and touched her cheek. Only to have Chaos wallop his aching back when the other girl hissed. He glared over his shoulder at his fiancé before turning back to Jacqueline. Might as well tell her.
"If there's none of that then probably no . . . But your cheek and the orbital process-"
"Your eye socket."
He turned and glared at Chaosia as she clarified . . . before having to swallow his own curses fro the dark look she gave him. He shrugged, continuing like he hadn't been interrupted.
"Are cracked at the very least. It should be okay but when your mother gets here we'll see what you both want done . . . Best thing for now is to soak, eat and rest . . ."
She nodded, looking over at Chaos before turning her eyes back to him.
"Thank you . . . both of you. I-We'll never be able to repay you for this . . ."
He shrugged standing and popping his back before extending his hand to Chaos. Who took it and let herself be drawn into his side far too easily. She must be tired to be so docile.
"Nothing to repay. Tub in our room's bigger if you want to soak . . . And when Donnie wakes up he's gonna wrap those ribs . . . just in case . . ."
She nodded, grabbing the clothes and towel just as they heard the front door slam closed. They both turned to Chaosia as a very high and frantic voice filled the front of the house. Sphinx groaned as he placed it . . . and the other voice accompanying it. Christ when had they started to get so chummy? He glared at his girl while she shrugged.
"Honestly Chaosia . . . Paul and Atley? Already? What the hell did I do to deserve that?"
Jacqueline laughed at their expressions, clutching her hurt side as the towering man looked down at Chaosia in exasperation and more than a little fear. While Chaosia just shrugged and acted like it wasn't anything important. She shook her head. She'd never guessed when she'd met the stoic giant in December that he would be such a good match for her rowdy stepsister . . . but apparently they were a good balance. And she could tell that they were crazy about each other . . . even if he did look like he wanted to skin her alive.
She sighed. She wished someone would look at her like that . . . that Ambrose had looked at her like that. But he never had. And despite how much she loved him, she would never allow herself to be close enough to see if he ever would. She looked over as two men poured in the room . . . and she was very sure that the first one was a flaming poof.
His blonde hair was spiked and highlighted while his black tee shirt and jeans fit far better than anything she'd ever seen on a straight man . . . without a stylist or fashionista girlfriend that is. He looked her over before shaking his head and turning to Chaos, murder in his eyes as he dropped the two big totes he was carrying to the floor and crossed his arms in a huff. And if he hadn't looked so serious she would've died laughing. This must be the infamous Paul . . .
"Okay Calamity . . . we're going hunting for scumbags. Dig out that hand canon and lets go!"
He turned to her, his pretty blue eyes showcasing exactly how serious he was as he asked, "Which testicle do you want as a keepsake, sweetheart? The left or the right? Hell, we'll bring you both if it'll make you feel better."
Jacqueline couldn't help it, she smiled at him and ran a hand through her tangled curls. Wincing as they snagged on a particularly bad knot.
"If those bags are to fix this then that's all I need. Just help me look human . . . Please?"
He nodded, the fury on his handsome features melting into compassion so quickly she knew his head was spinning. Almost as much as hers was. She'd never been around people who were so genuinely interested in her well being . . . And while it was odd, it was nice . . . But nowhere near as nice as the man that stepped up to hug her stepsister.
He was shorter than Sphinx, only a few inches taller than herself or Chaosia, with blondish brown hair slicked back away from a roguishly handsome face. His hazel eyes looked her over quickly before turning to the others . . . and for some reason it bothered her. She knew she wasn't at her best-her face was mangled and she was beaten and bruised-but she kind of wanted this guy to notice her. She shook herself as Paul moved to pick up his bags again and started to usher her towards what she could only assume was the master bathroom. She must've been hit in the head harder than she thought . . . either that or the pregnancy hormones had finally eaten her brain. She would talk to Chaosia and see if that was possible . . . but first she was going to let the blonde work his magic. After her desperately needed bath . . .
Atley watched Chaosia and Paul take her sister towards the other room-stopping only long enough to give his very visibly tired friend a very sweet, long kiss and making him promise to get sleep- before he turned to Sphinx. Chaosia had called near the crack of dawn and filled him in on what was going on . . . and he'd been out the door before they were even off the phone. He was pissed at Sphinx for not calling but now that he saw him he knew it hadn't been intentional.
The man looked like death warmed over . . . and she'd been right to worry over him. He didn't take things hard. But this seemed to have hit home with the stoic boost . . . and hard. He moved closer, both watching the trio disappear behind the bedroom doors before he spoke.
"You okay, man? Chaosia called when she woke up . . . Told me some of it . . ."
Sphinx shrugged, moving to go towards the kitchen as Atley followed him. He propped against the counter and watched the larger runner start the coffee and pull a hue bottle if ibuprofen from the cabinets, dry swallowing four before he moved to sink into the chairs at their table. Atley followed, waiting for Sphinx to break the heavy silence filling the room. Something was wrong . . .
"Girl doesn't know how close she came close to losing her little one . . . and I know when it finally hits Chaos she's gonna do something crazy."
Atley nodded, totally agreeing. Chaosia might have professed to not liking or wanting children but he'd seen her helping Junie with the Web Cam enough to spot the lie . . . . Even if she couldn't. She liked kids . . . just-apparently- in small doses. And he didn't know a woman alive that could resist the pull of babies and pregnant women in their own families. They always seemed to dote and coo and go utterly insane. Something he hoped his friend would be ready for should Chaosia ever be in the motherly way . . .
"I guess she would have a right to . . . The girl okay? She seemed . . ."
Sphinx shrugged, pinching the bridge of his nose. Which told Atley how tired and stressed he was. He sighed. This was going to change some things for all of them . . . he could just feel it.
"Hell if I know. This is the most human I've ever seen her act. Normally she's just as bad as bloody Selene . . . and she loves to harass and belittle my wife. Almost got her killed in London . . . Actually her being pregnant is all that saved her, way she talks and lords with Chaosia . . . ."
Atley smirked, trying not to point out that Sphinx was rambling . . . or that he'd just called Chaosia his wife out loud. And he'd known that the two girls weren't best friends but Chaosia was proving she was more than decent with this . . . And apparently more than willing to showcase the forgiving nature she usually saved for Sphinx. He sighed, accepting the cup of coffee the other boost handed him before he spoke.
"Well, you know you need anything you guys just call. I'll fill Memphis and the others in . . . let them know a few things to not say . . ."
He set the cup down, looking to Sphinx as seriously as he could . . . which with the piece of hair he'd just spotted that was sticking out and to the side wasn't very. He fought back his smirk and plowed ahead. He hated to have to do this but he needed to know . . . .
"Is this going to blow back on us? In any way, shape or form? Because if it does then we need to be ready . . ."
And while the shrug of sphinx's massive shoulders did little to put him at ease, the hard set of his face told him that should something come of all of this they would be ready . . .
He hoped so anyway . . .