- Chapter One Hundred And Two -
I'm Sure You Have Your Reasons, But That Doesn't Make It Right
I want to bring our father home.
Musical chimes in the pitch-black heart of a tar pit, Wyatt's words echoed through her head as they made their way through the crowded streets of King's Bay. Using them as a guide out of the darkness, Sleeping Beauty bummed into the mob, shoulders tagging one tourist after another.
Promptly marched from the airstrip directly to the first boat rental place they came across (a flashy establishment mama had proven to be a rip-off), the bleach-blonde stranger didn't need to scope out the exit strategy to recall that the way was barred by loading trucks and overworked dockhands. Not a complete stranger to the dusty roads, Daniella thought it still felt peculiar not to head directly for the customs office, or even towards the hotel to wash away the sticky heat wave that greeted them fresh off the plane. Fortunately for the ragtag team of devils and ditzes, it wasn't a record high.
Rendered virtually useless once more, there was nothing to be done but wait to the side as her brother signed all the right papers and negotiated down a decent deal. Bickering about nothing that made any sense, the twosome sounded a lot like a married couple as they brushed each other's cheeks with sun screen. Ashley seemed particularly adverse to the sun, though Daniella couldn't exactly claim to be its biggest fan either. Maybe that was the cost of spending so much time going against the clock, spending all her time indoors these past few weeks?
I want the same thing you do... I want to take back what was stolen. I want to find Rafe Adler's final resting place.
As a child, all Daniella had ever wanted was to make her daddy happy; when he died, she would have given anything to have him back.
Wyatt must have felt something like that too, right? In front of the psycho birds he kept it short, making it sound like it was all about the money he should have been entitled to, however she had to wonder if that was really all he cared about. Preoccupied by schematics when he wasn't issuing orders or making himself scarce, it was entirely possible that it was all about that green. Well, gold in this case. But was that really all this was about? Would strong-arming her mother into making a deal really be worth all of this hassle?
Would it make him happy? Trying to put herself in his shoes, the heiress couldn't even begin to see things his way, because she couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for him growing up. Given up for adoption, seeking the most basic of answers when his peers only had to worry about finding their purpose, it was cruel that it had all ended at a white brick wall. Must it always come back to that heartless creature?
Bitterness showing no signs of slowing, the heiress attempted to distract herself from delving deeper down the rabbit hole. Remembering being in a similar predicament - traveling without the keys to a private jet that was merely waiting on her leisure, that is - Dells had needed something to keep herself busy while on the world's longest flight. Reading a dated-at-the-time article about travel in Bangkok, she distinctly recalled the smog being called rude. Weird as that hook was, it couldn't be said that the unique wording hadn't captured her attention and caused her to read the rest of the story. Frankly she probably would have anyways, but the first readthrough was all on the author's own merits.
Curious for a whole fraction of a second as to the identity of the mystery writer, any interest was quickly lost as the sun scorched the thought into oblivion.
Ankles already sweating through a layer that was too thick for the sweltering city, she scratched the offending itch on the back of her calve. Reminding herself that she had been dressed for the temperamental mood swings of the jungle and not as a tourist, Dells glanced over at the unnecessary safety precautions. One had already began shooting selfies like they were going out of style, whereas the other was living in the moment, scanning the horizon of a place never before visited. Angel really was the more sentimental of the two, although the descriptor seemed up to debate, given who it was attached to.
Weary of Ashley exchanging the phone for a knife, she took a page from the calmer of the twos' book and looked around as well. It had been a while since the last time she had visited, however she distinctly remembered Shen taking her up and down the sweaty avenue to entertain her while her mother dealt with the gap-toothed old man that used to own the building. On the left was a rival competitor, and on the right was a series of stalls hawking goods. Fish, mostly, but there had been a couple of ornaments, clothes, and spices too.
Finding that there really hadn't been much of a change to the landscape - outside of ownership changing hands and franchises taking over - it occurred to her that she could escape if she really wanted to. Armed with a better sense of the area than the psychopathic couple, she had a distinct advantage in that not one of them was paying as close attention as they could have been. While it wasn't much, there was also some history with the locals.
Shaking off the tail end of the sedatives, she stayed in her lane and kept her mouth shut while they were swindled like the average yuppie tourists.
Honestly her mind was too loud to even try to speak over the din. Anyways, if she had tried, something told her that it wouldn't end well; ever the stern-faced soldier, Wyatt seemed close to snapping, and as for Angel and Ashely... Tremble only a murmur down her spine now, direct eye contact was still asking too much, however she could tell that they were getting restless. Mind immediately racing to what they did just for kicks, her shoulder flared worse than it ever had before.
How can I miss the remedy so much? Locked in the halcyon days where there wasn't a thing his lips couldn't fix, Dells almost fell back into the building as she took a step back. Barely able to hide the misstep, the heiress could only wish for her protector that much harder. Ushered in on the wings of the cherubim, his face flashed before her eyes, her mind reliving the dozen of times he had to stop her from falling to the dirt. Almost able to feel his arms encircling her once more, what had started out as a simple kindness devolved into one particular instance.
Dawn in the grove, so much laid bare in the fleeting night. The promise of what was to come.
[Air Support]
Radio tuned in to a frequency familiar to those select few that he deemed to be trustworthy (enough), Sully was on stand-by.
Tasked with heading back to a place that he could legally never return to, Victor skimmed along the outer limits of the coast, gaze cast around for authorities and low-lives alike. Nostalgia for the old days colored by a multitude of memories joining him on the stake-out, it wasn't enough to make him miss getting shot at. Retirement had always sounded like another type of prison to him, but honestly Sully probably should have thought about throwing the towel in a lot sooner: age running its course, his body had not thanked him for all the extra wear and tear he'd subjected it to.
And I'd do it all over again. Shifting across the radio in wait of an update that was more likely to come from his camp, Sully saved that sentimental stuff for Nathan. Watching the denizens go about their day-to-day lives like ants scurrying up the hill in a push to beat the first frost of the season, there wasn't much else that caught his eye.
Mind deferring to the last correspondence he'd had from Sam, the mentor of the Drake brothers had questioned what the play was, exactly. It was one thing to head to Madagascar in an effort to head the girl and her captors off, but with their head start and the weather throwing a wrench in things, it was another to keep flying blind. Talented at barreling into the fray at the first sign of things getting hinky, in his infinite wisdom the elder brother informed the pilot that he should see what he could find first, that they ultimately knew the end goal.
Secretly proud of the kid for keeping his cool on this, in the old man's mind it spoke volumes about how much Sam had come to care about this girl. Rafe Adler's little girl, no less. Still amused by that fact, and that she was also the offspring of the infamous Bai Wen, Sully almost chuckled about how close his initial impression of the young woman was to the truth.
Hardly much of mystic, there was no way of knowing how long that relationship would last before one of the two burned it all down in a kerosene fire; no psychic powers required, what he did know was that she was definitely Sam's girl.
[A Glimpse Into Inadequacy]
Hesitant to do what should have been done all those years ago, the duchess of duplicity looked sadly to her modern Lancelot across the mattress. Wishing that it didn't have to be this way, there were very few things she wanted more than to skip this part.
Bed a serviceable shield in the shallowest terms, a single second lost in the thread count was enough to make her yearn for the scenario where the guilt wasn't eating her alive, where she was pulling him into the sheets as he drove her deeper over the edge. Two seconds was cause to blame the mattress for landing them in this predicament (although the odds were higher that the location was more a metaphorical stand-in than the actual place of conception). There was no third second, her lashes strategically fluttering.
"Do you remember when we spent that first night under the stars?" Seeing from the lost look glazing his guarded blue eyes that no one instance was jumping out among the bevy, she indulged her precious silver fox by expanding upon the scene, "While we were staying with Nate and Elena, shortly after I went blonde." Tugging at a lock of her hair to rekindle the phantom that had lopped off a decent length to disguise herself amongst the islanders, her hair had since grown and returned to its darker roots.
Shockingly it was the hair that reminded him what his companion was on about, at least in regards to the setting. Connecting the ghostly transformation with what they had gotten up to days later (or had it been less time than that?), Sam sometimes missed the bleach blonde look. "Okay. And?"
Frustrated that he was missing the point - even though she was actively reconsidering the consequences of her outburst - Dells shook her head, causing dark umber locks to come tumbling down where they weren't presently welcome. "You let me in. Let me know what happened to my father." Honestly the moment had had a profound impact upon the woman, a fact she wasn't embarrassed to share. "I was always fond of sunrise, but you made that moment my most cherished memory."
Before his ego could go inflating itself to the daily maximum allotted, Sam caught the finality and dread underscoring her seemingly pointless foreword. As was the case with these sorts of things, the 'but' laying in wait couldn't have been any more apparent if it were wrapped entirely in bells and sent bumbling through a house made of ice.
Arms tingling with the weight of something that was no longer hers to hold, Daniella could still put herself back in that moment where she had held the most precious treasure she was ever going to touch. Glancing down to be sure that it was worse than a waking dream pulling on the tatters of her fractured mental state, the heiress corrected herself before continuing, "One of my most cherished memories."
Lighting a candle in prayer for all of the dead she had left behind, the pile of bones scattered around her feet shook with a howling wind - suffering in hell on the best days, now they writhed in immense displeasure as they were joined by a member of the living. Never missing the day by much, every year the hollow ached just as badly as the one before it. Worse, sometimes. Raw and reviled in nearly equal measure, the moment she let go of the sun, the heiress learned that the lack of a gravitational pull was rather like the suction from a vacuum. Like the worst of parasitical poltergeists.
"For what it's worth, I never changed my mind about what I said in the backseat of that cab. I think that I'll mean it until the day I die." Even if he still hadn't cottoned on to her meaning, there was only one incident that sprang readily to mind whenever they spoke of that particular mode of transportation. It probably wasn't the only example if they were to think carefully, but that was the thing about having so many years of receipts: it was difficult to keep track. Important that she convey to her partner just how monumental those few words had been, Daniella knew that it was now or never. "I just need you to know that before I tell you..."
Crushing her resolve to powder in his palm, the thief reached out across the span of the standard white hotel sheets for her hand. Already not liking where this was going, he knew that it was bad when she recoiled. Something told Sam he should probably sit down.
Instinctively reacting as if his touch were acidic, she began to pace along the length of the bed. Unconsciously holding herself, the heiress could feel the dress on the loveseat judging her. Worried more that he was going to interrupt and tell her that it didn't matter what she did, who she fucked, or how many had died, the absolute worst thing he could have said was that he still wanted her anyways. Thankfully for the nervous ball of pessimism, the realist in her knew Sam would never interject in such a fashion.
Sure that this would be everything she had feared five years ago, Daniella doubted she would ever be this close to him again and so inhaled as deeply as she could to stamp his scent into her soul. After I tell you, everything's going to change. You're going to hate me more than I hate myself for what I did to the both of you!
Avarice attracting her attention to the pretty present that had yet to be properly handled, the heiress looked away just as quickly, almost as if the metal had burned her. Lamenting the stories that withered on the vine before they could even be experienced, Dells found another contender for the second-worst day of her life. Wondering if it hurt more to have to turn down everything she could ever want or to have to break his heart while being in the same room, she could only bemoan the shitty hand she had been dealt.
"As much as I want to accept, I can't take another step until you know that... that..." Daniella could feel her confidence faltering as it got caught in her throat, shredding itself to ribbons before he could even open his mouth. Trying again with a valiant proximity of courage, she glared at her reflection from the corner of her eye. As if that could make her feel better about any of this. "When I went away from you, there was another reason."
Fragile as it was small, her voice reflected her present state more than she had intended it to.
Powerless to the thing sapping her strength - the things she never told him - he could only observe as she circled the drain.
Crying out for either absolution or condemnation and receiving neither, Dells hated having to relive the events of nearly half a decade ago.
Nicotine and anxiety about on par with one another, it was a whole other kind of trip tingling down the length of his fingers, thrumming along the pads of his fingertips. Despite her previous reaction to him, Sam ached to reach out for her once more, to give her a fraction of the strength she had given him during all of this. Going so far as to extend his wrist, the moment he caught sight of his exposed veins, the thief thought better of it.
Baby Girl got me good before. What's to keep her from doing it again?
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, the heiress refocused her attention to the centerfold of the moment.
Contrary to what one might believe, being unfaithful had never proven to be much of a problem for the woman - unless she was with him. Daniella hardly ever spoke of her hired husband, nor had she thought to mention the reason she had been locked out of her place in the city was because Sam was back in town for a weekend. But when it came to the exploitative explorer, it mattered when too many lonely nights lead to killing time with that cute waitress. So then why was the truth so damn hard?
Greedy for more of those days, those golden days when their arrangement was 'simpler', there were only so many other obstacles Sam could think of. Sapphire one of them despite everything pointing to the contrary, it it wasn't that bozo, then...
"That girl you met at the wake yesterday..." Less than keen on the impression that had been made, the woman wrinkled her nose at the karmic medicine being poured down her throat as she struggled against the divine hands holding her in place. Loathe to bring any more unpleasantness to what could only be summed up as the most fucked of situations, she was also aware that abandonment was a rather touchy subject for the thief. Shy of igniting a spark on the hardwood, Dells ceased her restless back-and-forth to study her partner instead. "She wasn't there for him."
Jaw clenching as he bit back either a clever retort or a question that anyone would have asked in that situation, Sam gave no room for deflective humor. Blank mask of apathy more than an emotional gut-punch than an actual blow, the detached stare was as unreadable as it was intimidating. Worried about how he was going to react going forward, Dells volunteered the next piece of information as he processed what he was being told. "I was thinking about it for a while, but I never-"
Never let myself cross that line.
A frequent thought that toed the line of being called a constant, Daniella would remember the one highlight of being sequestered in that sterile room, surrounded by instruments that were far too similar to the tools that the hipsters had implemented. So tiny, she marveled at the five little fingers that clasped instinctively to her own, so fragile and adorable. So easily broken or led astray.
When she let herself get comfortable, when she closed her eyes to sleep, and even for no reason at all, the heiress suddenly felt less lonely. For a time. Beginning as a fleeting burst of happiness that nothing and no one had ever matched before, when the high crashed around her like broken glass, she felt something worse than the crippling dehabilitation of depression. Liar. Monster. Mostly it made her cry, though she was getting better at hiding it.
"What's 'a while'?" Interrupting the heiress before the silver of her crown could transfer to her tongue, he turned her question back on her with an ice-cold inflection that hinted at the darkest possible future. Whereas only a year had gone unaccounted for, everything fit a little too neatly into the theory that was taking shape in his mind. He always had been good with dates. Thinking of the new evidence slotting into the gaps, Sam needed to hear her say the words. "Five years?"
Voice trembling from the weight of omitting the existence of an entire person, repressing the living, breathing secret had been the single-most difficult decision Daniella had been asked to make. Stuck there at the mercy of the unknown, the woman was genuinely incapable of not thinking it was the worst mistake she had ever made. "Five."
"Five."
Amelia was about six now, give or take a couple of months in either direction.
Libertalia, and everything that transpired on his second visit, had been six years ago. The short trial period of him taking the young woman out in the field had ended rather unexpectedly, around a couple weeks in. Scarcely remembering the excuse she had fed him about wanting to return to her 'normal' life before they met, the expert thief did remember thinking that it was bullshit: he - along with Elena taking the lead amongst the peanut gallery - had figured that it was just too much after everything that had happened. Fine, whatever.
Then Daniella went radio silent, effectively ghosting every single person that she had claimed to care so much about (which, for the record, seemed to be the only good folks in her life). That hurt.
Months and weeks went by without hearing a word from the young woman, minus the odd communication to let everyone know she was even still alive. Drea the first in a line of lesser models and factory rejects, when the heiress had resurfaced to reinsert herself back into the picture, Sam wanted to make Dells pay for her absence. Only... it was hard to punish her truancy when she whispered such compelling arguments between the sheets. It was even more difficult to remember that she was just like anyone else when she brought back that old feeling...
Hands shaking as they clenched into fists at his side, the thief wasn't sure if he wanted to put a hole through the woman or throw away years of hard work with a reminder he kept tucked in the nightstand with the rest of his crap.
"Sam-"
Living up to the legacy her parents had carved with their blood, sweat, and tears, Daniella sounded so believably sweet and innocent when she tried. All but on her knees as she pled, her tone hinted that she couldn't possibly find herself worthy of forgiveness, that she was unsure about what exactly it was she was asking for. A sucker for those sorry eyes and that pretty little mouth, the historian had to ask himself if she practiced in the mirror or if it came natural.
Cigarettes winning in the end, it was just one more thing to add to the list. Risking an actual dagger for all he knew, the man all but presented his back while he rummaged through the nightstand drawer for something that was meant to be purely symbolic. Pondering when exactly he had become so sentimental, he partially blamed his little brother for encouraging the art of keeping mementos. Finding what he was looking for, the ex-con played up putting the cigarette between his teeth.
Beaten to his lighter by a mile, the woman-shaped horror-show yanked the familiar silver device from the inside of his jacket pocket. Discarded over the side of the loveseat next to her dress, there was no way he was ever going to win that round. Finding it soundly fitting that her royal pain should be playing with a stacked deck, Sam motioned for the return of his property.
Put in a unique position, Dells refused to budge. While it was never a vice that she could acquire a taste for, even Nathan would have to agree that if there was ever going to be a reason to pick the habit up, this was most definitely it. Although catering to this particular whim would only hasten the adventurer to his death, possibly causing him to relapse on the way. Replacing the fire starter with a full bottle of really killer vodka, Daniella wanted to give it to him, but ultimately she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Rather than push her favorite person into a premature grave, Sleeping Beauty slid the cold metal against her leg, securing it in the band of her underwear.
Unsurprised that she would opt to do things the hard way, being in no mood for her bullshit, Sam threw his head back with a sigh. Slicking his silvered crown back between his fingers, he lurched to his feet with a grim purpose. Standing before the younger woman at his full height, he clicked his tongue once as a testy warning not to press him. Thoroughly ignored as her stubbornness persisted, he reached out for her hip.
Smack! Girl not entirely defenseless these days, she knocked his hand away.
Hurt worse smashing his hand into the light switch in the dead of night, the man was unafraid of the repercussions as he made his second attempt. Ready for it, her masterful counter was to take a step back at the last possible moment. Timing in need of work, in addition to not being a great strategy he steered her into the wall. Heart hammering in her chest, this was the most dangerous thing she had done in a long time.
Missing her head by a hair, he banged his palm into the wall. Silently, he gave her yet another chance to reconsider.
Determined to keep the lighter safe at almost any cost, the daughter and victim of the white tiger faced her long-time friend and consort without a trace of fear, trusting that he wouldn't harm her. Faith rewarded when he banged his fist into the wall a second time, this time the cracked drywall was missing parts and was smeared with a hint of his blood. Naturally her first instinct was to tend to his wounds herself, however the look on his face strongly suggested that she think better of trying to touch him.
Backing away from the woman he thought he knew so well, the thief carried no light in his eyes as he backed away, instead showing only darkness. Granting her no more courtesy than the space to slip away, Sam left no room for argument as he pointed at the door, "Get out."
Heart breaking all over again as she looked at Sam, the stitching in her chest split itself down the center, finally free of the shoddy patch job that had been nowhere close to sufficient.
Deciding unilaterally for the man that he must despise her for everything she had done these past five years, Daniella felt like she still had to give up what she had been holding back all that time. He had to know that the hardest thing she ever did was protect Aurora. Protect her from what she thought might be lurking in the shadows, as well as from the pain of growing up with a traveling conman and a clueless teenager. Truthfully, there were a good number of ways she could have described the pair of them, however that seemed like the best way to sum up how unfitting they were for the job.
Aurora deserved so much better than the hand she had been dealt.
For as much as the woman wanted to explain that she couldn't even do that right, Dells felt her throat constricting. For better or for worse, she knew Sam, knew that she couldn't refuse to tell him what he needed to know now that they had come that far. Cowardly heart begging to not have to say it, they were going far too fast down a winding river without knowing the way it was flowing, only that the danger was growing.
"Sam..."
"Get. Out." Sounding as dead as the ancient cities he and his brother discovered, Sam didn't know what he would do if she stayed, only that he couldn't stomach the sight of her.
Relenting at long last, the heiress gently bobbed her head in surrender. A fond farewell and a lusty 'until we meet again' the very last things she expected, Daniella made a reluctant exit to give him the space to think this all over. "Fine, I'll go," waving the small metal relic in the air before she departed, it was with the promise that she never stopped caring, "But I'm holding on to this."
Numb inside as he watched her waltzing away - the vision stinging the cornea and plated in crystal - there wasn't much to react to once the door closed between them. Never minding the dress he'd inevitably have to return, somehow or other the man found himself seated beneath the tulle pleats. Unconsciously burying himself in a reminder he would be better off forgetting, Sam had quite forgotten the limp cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
It was a lot to take in, to say the least.
Reviewing the facts he had - assuming that they weren't further fabrications to hide even more unspeakable truths - Sam blamed himself for not seeing it sooner. Dells had changed from the time between the ordeal on Libertalia and the following months. When she vanished, he told himself it was just to cope, but that wasn't all it was. Every year she would grow morose around a certain time, would try to drink herself into oblivion to ease the pain. He secretly assumed that maybe it was because she had lost a child. Although, in a way, she had.
Dark cherry curls all the evidence anyone would need to draw the same conclusion of paternity, it was all right there in the open, as obvious as a smack to the face. The hair, the eyes... A couple hundred years ago, it would have been all the proof anyone needed. Thinking of the joyous grin on her face as she made her own fun, how could he not see the similarities to his little brother?
Slight of hand at its finest, his calloused palms caressed the sable material threatening to overwhelm; unfurling long enough to play out a life that never could be, whatever he envisioned had caused the man to harden his defenses.
Bullets doing less damage, Sam never imagined branching out the family tree; not intentionally, not with anyone. Teetering the line between perfect clarity and a weekend buzz, there had been times he sat back and just watched the younger woman with Amelia. At those points, there had been the odd glance that made him consider the possibilities, but never to the extent that he found himself wishing for a mistake. Watching with the rest as she cooed at the baby and cemented her role as Andi, the natural born adventurer could almost admit to himself that if there was ever anyone he'd want to procreate with, it would have been her.
That just wasn't in the cards for them.
Until it was, apparently. Denied the choice to be there - or not - the ex-con had been robbed of the conversations he had spent his entire life running from. He couldn't tell her to keep it, even just long enough to give it to someone else (raised Catholic, there weren't many other options). He couldn't weigh the pros and cons of trying their hand at the whole parent thing; obviously it wasn't for them, and they would only fuck it up at every conceivable turn, even with his little brother's help, but god help the kid, they could have tried. He might have mooned over the missed opportunity to hold her hair for her when the morning sickness got really bad, had he not already done that every year on the dot.
First steps and the very last thing he ever wanted well behind them now, Sam considered the woman. Wretched and starving to be put to task for the things she had stolen in secret, the heiress becoming so frail might have less to do with an actual illness and more to do with guilt. Gaunt with puffy eyes, every time she took a breath, her throat was begging to be slit, snapped, and stained black and blue (and not necessarily in that order). Wondering if that wasn't too kind a fate, the historian questioned who had been there for her.
A kid. A girl.
Once more guiding a lost child through a sea of adults that would cut their own mother's throats as soon as look at you, he could see that black-cherry mop bouncing animatedly through the black mass. Happily oblivious to everything around her, the girl was beautifully ignorant to the red ledgers that washed out the hallowed halls. The bad deeds that had stained everyone's hands leading up to that point, the crimes and unforgivable sins that had been committed. None of that mattered to her.
His girl.
Would it have changed anything for her if she were to become aware? If she had somehow learned that the people responsible for giving her life were in that very same room at that same exact time? Remembering his own life at that age, all he could think of was Nathan, a newborn just as pure and naïve as she seemed to be. Nate hadn't been nearly so fortunate, though he turned out alright. As much as a punk could at any rate. And Daniella...
Reluctant to so much as acknowledge the woman in that moment, Sam found himself looking at her dress anyways.
Our girl.
Math equating her to be about the same age as Amelia, that meant that Daniella was almost certainly pregnant as they closed the chapter on Libertalia. Which made sense, given how reckless they were being. Numerical science not quite on par with his encyclopedic memory, he also remembered not being particularly careful with the little lady before he went to visit Logan, about six or seven weeks ago. Eight at the longest (everything that had happened recently had been quite the whirlwind affair).
"Little girl, what are you waiting for the doctor to tell you, exactly?" Predictably the garment didn't have much of an answer.
"Well shit."
He was always too good with dates.
[Losing The Race In Cairo, Squabbling In South Sudan, Hot Collars In Tanzania]
Restless in the interim, Sam opted to kill time by rolling a large golden coin between his knuckles. Tinted a greenish hue due to centuries of moisture rising through the hull, the metal had aged poorly; gold would fetch a good price on any market, but this particular mint was sentimental. A symbol of everything he had achieved. Plus, what with Avery's sigil not being a documented currency, the value was hardly worth more than the metal it was printed upon.
Fidgeting with the circular discus as opposed to ogling the radio in want of news, the thief skimmed the sun-kissed horizon the same as one flicked the pages of an especially boring read. This had hardly been his first time in the area, and his companions were doing nothing of interest. Land looming yellow and daub above the startling blue waters, he may as well have been watching the captain seething as they ditched her in Egypt.
Nowhere near as pleasant or accommodating as she originally introduced herself as, Drea seemed almost eager to be done with the trio as they landed in Alexandria. Somewhat understandable, getting unceremoniously snubbed was never an easy pill to swallow, but to be rejected by a ten totally had to wound even the most steeled of prides.
Zanny - for once not immersed in a pay-to-win slot machine - spent the brunt of their excursion through Sudan checking and re-checking the luggage. If the crew hadn't heard the orders coming from the would-be-gangster's 'boss' as a reprimand, it might have been questionable around the third or fourth pass. Initially thinking it was oddly amusing, the historian quickly tired of the routine. Turns out that spilling three successive cups of coffee on a complete dickbag was only so hilarious, even if said dick was Ryan.
Loyal to a fault (and to the wrong person no less), Ludo refused to ease up once the entire ride; for that, Drake could actually approve to some extent, even though that meant that the big lug was still suspicious of him. Fair enough in their line of work. Didn't make it any less interesting that the ex-con was being pegged as the most likely to stab his partner in the back when literally every single one of them did that sort of thing for a living though. Was interesting the right word for it? Not about to lose sleep over the answer, Sam didn't spare gigantor a second glance.
What did bother the historied explorer was the fact that Ryan could be so blasé about the situation. Acutely aware of his eye twitching in almost comical irritation as he watched the baby gangster continue to take calls like it was nothing, the adventurer retired his coin shtick to leer at the technical competition.
Chest thumping from the pent-up adrenaline that couldn't be exercised as of yet, the grizzled gray thief eyed the younger man with renewed disdain - it was one thing for the tech-addicted goon to be glued to the screen, but to act like things were running smoothly when they were in fact about to go sideways... On edge and likely to be annoyed by anything that was less than ideal, he failed to understand how Dells could entertain the thought.
Yada-yada family honor and all that, but why? Rafe was six feet under, Bai was... ugh, Bai was Bai, and her eventual death could only be described as a sweet relief to anyone that had ever had the displeasure of making her acquaintance. All of this had allegedly started because of Daniella's grandfather, however, he had never met the girl, so what was stopping Bai from making use of a decoy? Dells didn't owe those people jack shit so far as he was concerned.
[Outside The Rental Place]
As a child, all Daniella had ever wanted was to make her daddy happy.
First that had entailed making real the fantasy of centuries-old pirate colonies and secret maps leading to lost treasure; then when he had been ripped away from her, the all-consuming thought was to recover his body to properly lay him to rest. Sincere enough, she had made up her mind to follow her supposed secret sibling all the way to another country, accompanied by two loose cannons that had literally tortured her no less. While that would haunt her for whatever remained of her life, there was no doubt that going with Wyatt was the right thing.
How could Daniella possibly turn away now that closure was so close at hand?
Growing into a new person with new aspirations, as the heiress stood amongst her sibling and his jailers, she realized that it was safe to say she wasn't that same kid. Not fully.
Mixed-up certainly one way to phrase it, the scarred, battered, and bruised husk of modern aristocracy had encountered a number of interesting individuals over the past couple of weeks. Many of whom she came to admire and hold dear.
In fact, it was for their sakes that she had been prepared to accept Jian's proposal. It made sense to honor tradition, honor family, and to save people that she had genuine come to care about. In a lot of ways, the majority of them had all made sacrifices and last-minute adjustments to accommodate a perfect stranger, so why not repay the kindness?
Returned once more to Madagascar in shackles, that all seemed so far away now, yet was it really? Aware that she would be seeing her fiancé when he came to rescue her, the heiress had no qualms about breaking that particular arrangement. Too much had changed since then.
Kicking an innocuous stone that could have been replaced by any other stone on the entire planet with zero consequence, Daniella studied the resulting poof of dust. Inexplicably hoping that it might yield even a single answer to any of the warring thoughts jumbling together in her head, she was disappointed by the anticlimactic nothingness. Scooting the pebble forward with just the nudge of her toe, she was too busy looking down to notice the old man watching them at the end of the street.
"...Heracles and Hercules are totally the same person!" Ashley stood by the remembered bit of trivia, halfway regretting the comparison of a passing construction worker to the hero of Greek myth.
Eyes rolling at the gross stupidity on display, Angel couldn't disagree more about the names (the muscles on the guy lugging materials back and forth was an indisputable fact). "I'm telling you, Hera wouldn't abide that kind of slander."
Squabble looking to escalate, it was Daniella that came in with the tie-breaker. Answer more an automatic correction than a sincere desire to get involved with anything the hipsters said or did, she seemed a world away when she replied, "They're the same. Hercules is the Roman equivalent."
Pleased to be correct, Ashley pointed at the heiress with a smug satisfaction that couldn't be bought or forged, merely earned. "See? Chickadee is petrified by us, but even she agrees with me!" Mocking Daniella for freezing up anytime they came face-to-face (or had to interact in any way, really), the unhinged swallow clowned on the young woman.
Frowning to herself, Dells glanced up from her shoes to survey the gritty vista once more. Despite the countless times she told herself that she was doing the right thing, the heiress couldn't help but hold on to a sliver of hope that the Calvary would storm the beach and bring her back home. That Sam would be the one to bring her back home. Where ever that might have been. Aware of the myriad of ways they would ridicule her for even thinking such a thing, she was grateful that they couldn't read minds.
Across the street and in the marginally cooler pool of shade creeping down the concrete feet, the unmistakable Victor Sullivan reached into his pocket for his phone. Moustache still as prominent as ever, the retired thief heard the call go through less than a second after making it. Radio back on the plane, it turned out that sticking with cells drew a lot less attention. "Found 'em."
"Oh did you now?" Amusement plucking at the corners of his mouth, Wyatt appeared behind the old trader with the nuzzle of a pistol to the spine, under the guise that he had to return to his vehicle for extra identification. Paying more attention to his surroundings than given credit for, the mercenary spotted their company ages ago and was merely waiting to reunite with the magnificent mustache.
Hardly having the time to swear on the other end of the phone, Sam could only listen as the device changed hands. Face stoic as any professional poker player's, for as reluctant to hand over his property as he was, Sully was even more hesitant to cause a scene. And at least this time it might not get smashed. Obliging the soldier's silent request, Victor glanced back over at the heiress; if he got the chance to speak to the kid again, at the least he could give the good news that she seemed to be in one piece. Although if it remained that way was another matter.
Nodding in approval to the ex-serviceman, Wyatt took the phone and wasted no time in assuming the identity of the person on the other end. "Took you long enough. I hope for my sister's sake that you lot aren't too far behind."
Words a little too easy to see as a threat, Sam could have snapped the brat's neck. Hands shaking even as he pressed the speaker flush against his mouth, the thief wasn't going to waste time worrying about who the little prick was related to. "You hurt her-"
"Really? That speech?" Bored to tears by the amount of times he had heard some rendition of the line, the younger of the two snorted and glanced almost lazily at Sully, something akin to accusation glinting in his eyes, "I thought you of all people would be more creative than that. Whatever, you can relax before you blow a gasket."
Closer than one might have suspected, two became three became six. More than ready to throw hands and not concerned in the slightest about igniting a ruckus, the grizzled adventurer dropped his phone to the ground and decked the solider the instant he was close enough to reach. Doing the historian a kindness, Jian floated just out of the danger zone and picked up the device to return later. Ludo was prepared to pull the fray apart before it escalated to the point that any authority types thought they might be interested in getting involved. While it was technically in his job description to help, Zan was more preoccupied with crowd control.
Caught off guard by the stealth attack, Wyatt wasn't entirely surprised by the assault. The weather truly had knocked them off course, delaying their head start almost entirely; unfazed by this, it was merely a minor setback that the storm had blown in a headache. Or a boon. Rotating his jaw to check that it was fine enough to get through the weekend, the merc turned to look over at his own camp. Nonplused to see their former employer, the hipsters were adaptable. His sister on the other hand...
Looking as if she had seen a ghost, Daniella would have dropped whatever she had been holding - fortunately her hands were free. Throwing caution to the wind and her fear to the bottom of wherever conquered foes went, the heiress ran directly for them, narrowly avoiding traffic. Horn beeping Morse Code to the erratic rhythm of her heart, she moved out of the street and walked the rest of the way to the party. Angel and Ashley were just behind her, though for maybe the first time they had other interests.
"Sam!" Practically barreling into the man, her arms were around him and her eyes were wet. Terror and rage a distant second to the relief that washed over her, Dells was simultaneously in the back seat of that cab and keeping him from pummeling the sibling she only just learned she had.
"Dells..." Mind racing with everything that had happened since he lost her, it was impossible not to see the crushing defeat in her eyes, to not hear the rising panic as she was surrounded by sharks. He could feel her tremble as she attempted to bury herself into his side, and he knew that it was taking everything she had to keep her head above water. Unaccustomed to being held back in this fashion, Sam gave her a bracing squeeze to tell her that it was going to be alright. He couldn't possibly know that, but it was what she needed to hear.
Taking advantage of this - not that he found much use in beating one another on the side of the road - Wyatt stood just out of arm's reach. "Fancy meeting you here. Although, it was just a matter of time I suppose." Peering over at all of the extras that held no value to his plans, he fixed the heiress with a small note of resignation. So be it. "Care to join us?"
"Pardon?" Lifting his hand to his ear as if he had misheard, the last thing Jian was expecting was an invitation.
Weighing the odds and consequences of a deal with the Orange Tiger Association, Wyatt wondered if perhaps there could have been something he could get out of the fiancé after all. Quick to disguise his musings, the solider turned to the twin swallows before addressing his sibling, "What do you think? We want to bring our father home, and they could help."
Many a brow arching at the ridiculous notion that she have any real power in the scheming department, it was Sully that voiced the confusion, "'We'? Is there something we're missing here?"
Lower lip quivering uncontrollably as she attempted to put on a brave face, Daniella nodded. Voice somewhat muffled by Sam's shirt, this had to happen, one way or another. "I need to see..." Sam may have told her what happened, but she needed to know for herself, needed to see the site with her own two eyes. Most importantly, she needed to find her daddy's remains. "I have to bring him home."
So then why am I still thinking about...?
Author's Note:
How can I not grin like a fool that this chapter shares numericals with the BEST Dalmatian movie and a hobbit's one hundred and eleventy-first birthday?
To be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting to reveal how that particular conversation between Sam and Daniella went - I was going to leave it to you guys. But while working on this chapter, trying to figure out exactly what happens next between the two Daniella segments (there are two in this chapter, right?), it just kinda happened.
This whole chapter ended up being way rougher than I anticipated, so hopefully it turned out alright? Still, for all the edits and tightening, I have to ask if it's just me, or do you guys think they're too good? Sam and Daniella, I mean.
Have I used that MM lyric/reference before? I feel like I have, but damn if it doesn't stick in in my head.