- Chapter Ninety-Seven -

The 'Hands-On' Sort

Decorated with reserved modesty to match the sensibilities of one Victor Sullivan, the main hall hosting the wake was packed to above capacity and growing naturally warmer by the minute. Abuzz with consoling murmurs and mostly sincere wishes for health and prosperity, the expression 'rubbing elbows' was quickly made literal, though only one or two people were about to address that point vocally. Unsurprisingly, although not necessarily connected, those that did voice their rising discomfort were also those that hadn't known the deceased particularly well. Urn lit from the rear to seemingly glow upon its pedestal, for those in the know it almost felt as if they were on one last adventure with the man of the hour, holed up in the darkest corners of the bar or marching through the muggy green.

Fans up and wilted programs wagging limply through the stifling heat, the later it got the harder the air conditioner had to work; for those unlucky enough to be in the back, it was rather like standing beneath a jumbo jet preparing to lift off. Rika had discarded her sleek leather coat and had folded it over her arm, and many a card-carrying criminal had followed suit, similarly stripping down to mingle. Ali's anxiety about his mother's condition cranked up as well, though the woman seemed unperturbed as she watched the others paying their respects.

As one of the select few that were being counted as Sully's actual family, Jada was making the rounds, thanking everyone for coming and accepting condolences. Where Nate was still soul-searching for a meaningful way to sum up the better part of a lifetime, Elena was by his side, mulling over what it was going to be like in a world without Victor. Only just now coming to see how much darker the world had gotten, Cassie was working on coming to grips with the fact that this was all for real. Sending her uncle off on his own to consort with the one other person that was equipped to help him through the rest of the day, the bespectacled blonde looked to return to her own source of unconditional comfort.

Lovable dork unaccustomed to wearing anything longer than a t-shirt, Joey was precisely where the young blonde had left him: nervously sniffing his pits when he thought that no one was watching. Feeling just the tiniest bit clingy, the teen scampered along to promptly rid him of that notion; catching sight of her uncle one last time, he was similarly cutting across the diamond-patterned floor with a purpose. Glowering in her direction, Cass had the sense that helping him was kinda a mixed bag this time...

Heiress mid-conversation with a deaf Scotsman that was too proud to admit that he was mere window dressing, a lesser son that communicated only when was absolutely necessary, and the soft-spoken wife of a late sheikh, the topic was purely political in nature. Cordially beginning with the surface-level inquiry of how they each knew Victor, Daniella's response was that she knew the man through Sam. Technically the truth, if her mood hadn't been damped to the degree that it had been, she might've smiled at the memory of how they had first crossed paths, the irony that she had been mistaken as 'one of Sam's girls'. The conversation didn't really linger long enough to specify one way or another, due to her hanger-on turning his attention to who the individuals were. What they were famous for.

Clearly aiming to further his own social standing on the global stage, the tool yammered on, not realizing that he was nothing more than a mistake from the past, an idiot with a sizable sapphire stud gleaming in one ear. Battle cry hijacked at gunpoint by the college-bound, as she regretted the choices that brought them together, she could only ask herself what on earth she had been thinking.

Boredom causing flecks of ice to roam longingly for the side door leading to the patio, it couldn't have been any more obvious that she would much rather be anywhere else. Nothing against the regal-looking woman nor the two brown-eyed tradesmen, it was just that after having sensitive information misread and a subsequent fight, she was not in the mood to play pretend. In fact, Dells was dying the longer they stood there.

Despite firmly telling herself that she wasn't going to look for him, the heiress was skimming over all the bland faces in the crowd before she knew it. Titles and ideas being swung in the background noise she sought to tune out, she continued her search in vain, feeling her lips purse into an increasingly thinner line the longer it took.

And then sweet, sweet relief came.

Footsteps light yet unmistakable after the better part of a decade together - give or take a couple of years - his approach was smooth. An expert in such matters, he probably wouldn't have lasted long at his job if he wasn't capable of being stealthy as a black cat sauntering through the blackest night at the witching hour.

Half-remembering a remarkably chilly night in New York when an actual tom cat had gotten in through the kitchen window, the reluctant socialite had been so shaken that there had been no other alternative but to turn the visit into a slumber party. Wondering if she was alone in thinking of those seemingly meaningless nights, Dells could hear the hesitation in his sigh. Standing just close enough so that his warm breath tickled the back of her neck and caused something of a stir in the fine hairs, the woman closed her eyes in wanton anticipation.

As with all period-pieces there was that chaste delay before the summons for an audience, the deliberate knock upon the door when the dashing young protagonist sought the permission of his fair lady's conservators. Technically the ship had long since sailed on that one - Sam was no more a gentleman than she was his sweetheart - yet Dells could feel the same rumble of butterflies in her belly that those demure virgins with their iron skirts and lace umbrellas got when they had a desirable caller.

Mindful of where they currently stood - not to mention the surrounding circumstances - the thought of reopening the book and using the chapter for fresh kindling bothered the woman... just not nearly as much as she wanted it to. Nerves aflutter, at long last there was a tap on her gnarled shoulder (more of a gentle brush, really), followed by the phlegmy cough of a smoker clearing their throat. He never disappoints, does he?

Sam...

Haunted by the tender moments that nostalgia made all the sweeter, with or without all of these little clues guiding the way, Daniella would have recognized that cologne anywhere.

"Not for nothin', but when you said you had a surprise for me, I expected something a little more... sexy." Returned from an exhausting shift in the mines with little to show for it, when it had been implied that there was a little something something to thank him for his efforts, there had been marked interest. Practically a given that a dirty mind would go towards a more sweaty kind of reward, he wasn't wrong to assume that the promise entailed what was virtually a special night alone without the kids. Basically, he had been counting on dealer's choice.

All a part of a bigger plan, after six taxing weeks of coming back to an unsafe dive night after night with zero in returns and even less breadcrumbs to follow, it seemed like a good idea to raise morale. It didn't hurt matters that they would both be free that weekend...

Step one: treat her 'mentor' to a small token of appreciation that he might want to make use of for phase two. Which was supposed to be a nice night out, culminating in dinner and some of the higher grade wines that had long-since been denied for one reason or other. Discreetly shopping around for spicy new ideas as well as something cute for her that he might enjoy as well, the third leg was pretty self-explanatory.

Just like everything else in their relationship, plans had gone astray...

'Shame you can never really know a person'... Bitter. Betrayed. Words hitting closer to home than he realized, when Sam had called her out for keeping something from him (again), he didn't realize that this secret was killing her to keep.

Why couldn't I just tell you then?

Hand lingering against the swirl of invisible ink, the woman side-eyed the gesture before acknowledging it. Briefly tracing the outermost detail and more or less missing the bevy of scar tissue, Sam seemed to have committed the shape to memory, a fact she found oddly touching. Lace cutting a floral-esque peek-a-boo pattern over the top of her skin, the tattoo had thoughtfully been hidden beneath the very last of her foundation, so what other explanation was there?

Lips hardly moving in any visible manner, she swore underneath her breath at his unique ability to make her feel a range of emotions at any given time. Despite that ugly livid streak bubbling just below the surface, Dells was so eager to be free from this snooze-fest of a conversation that she was willing to overlook the fact that it was Sam's fault she had found herself stuck in it in the first place. For the time being at least. Drawn-out in an almost intimate fashion, the historian aptly rubbed against the lacy circumference of her sleeve in a coded reply, and she had her answer.

Not entirely without formal decorum, just as the others realized that their inner circle was growing in quantity, it was her more prestigious colleagues that she addressed more than her more cumbersome companion. Far from apologetic, Daniella was perhaps a tad too antsy to remove herself, "If you'll excuse me, I could use some air."

Scotsmen spotting the wayward Drake brother holding himself back from taking that final plunge that led to contact, there were only two reasons why the man would show that level of hesitation - either they were unacquainted, or there was a whole backstory betwixt the two. Positioned directly opposite the perky curves peeking above the velvet trim, there was a reason why the grandfatherly lordling had opted to stop where he had. Brown curls spiraling along the splash of peachy flesh to vanish into the dainty black heart, when the historian finally made his move there was a subtle jolt in her bosom, a jiggling heave too mighty to be a mere breath.

Inclining his neck ever so slightly in approval, the elder of the two men met the gaze of his younger contemporary, and then was a portable flash 'for the paper'. He might never have been counted among the fastest or the strongest, nor even the loudest son of a bitch in a room, but damn if he wasn't one of the most observant! Spying more than the telling way she trembled longingly beneath the cover a family-friendly touch, even his slower junior successor hadn't been blind to the way that her current companion had gone ridged at her side.

Malicious thoughts flashing in the reflective surface of the young man's eyes, instead of meddle the withered old geezer gave an arthritic thumbs up with a hand that looked as if it had been smashed with a hammer before having an entire nail ripped off.

From the way that the other female had gone from borderline rudely disinterested to raptly standing at attention, the quiver had all but given the game away. Flush instantaneous and rosy, there was also a barb at the tail end of their interaction, a momentary truce that needed to be. Embarrassingly obvious, it had been impossible not to pick up on the sudden change in demeanor, the terse spring that revealed itself upon the arrival of the adventurer. Playing along out of sympathy, the lovely bride nodded politely, "I understand. You have my condolences."

Diplomatically averting her gaze from each of her past and future colleagues, Dells opted out of indulging the supposed mourners - this was hardly the time or place for personal melodrama. Hollow cheeks catching a fair bit of color, instead of add fuel to the speculation and assumptions, she muttered quite crossly that they were at a wake. Unfortunately this seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, as none of them looked particularly abashed. In fact...

Oily as a snake-oil salesman, the dark-haired daughter of two great houses found herself on the receiving end of yet more needless pawing, the man at her side squeezing tight as if to show the world that she had a new master. Bad time to learn the rules of this new regime, the less-than-patient (former?) paramour at her back might have been a hair more flustered by the power play had she not already made up her mind. Nearly taking that trust fall back into his arms even then, below the tangled web that entwined them was the face of true misery. Condition more far-reaching than these last few days, the heiress was downright blue, her stubborn attempts to openly snub him no doubt the consequence of their most recent exchange.

"Dah karam mennak." Expending her ready knowledge of the Arabic language and pushing it to the absolute limit, the heiress was confident enough that it wouldn't cause grave insult, however she wasn't sure enough of her skills to say any more outside a more mastered tongue. "Although Sam's the one you should be saying that to, not me."

Chips of crushed topaz watered by a pool of crisp slate, Daniella made hasty introductions, gesturing ever so curtly to the grizzled brunette that was now a single shot of auburn from being pure silver. Angry and hurt as she might have been by his reaction to a single letter appearing on her screen, she couldn't forget that he was probably worse off. Deeply judgmental in their own ways, the four outsiders looked from the thief back to the heiress, all with varying levels of accusation burning within their eyes, as if they were exclaiming, 'Ah, so this is Sam!'.

Proud to the point of laughable idiocy, wounded enough to lash out blindly in anger, if it wasn't the momentary swirl that meant a dizzy spell that was going to get her, it was most definitely going to be host of negative adjectives chewing at the bit. World-weary and personally attacked, her gaze faltered at the finish line, eyes shifting focus from the prick that slandered her name to the man just as lost and broken as she was. Because of course it was going back around to the explorer in the end.

If you only knew why I couldn't say that I... I'm sorry, but I just can't seem to find the words.

Clipped and the very definition of forced, Sapphire addressed the old-new-old challenger stiffly, consciously drawing the heiress closer to himself one final time. "Samuel."

"Don't call me that." Humorless with the yuppie whereas he had been civil towards the rest, the ex-con was not as willing to fake so much as a semblance of cordiality throughout the pleasantries.

Shy of outright licking the woman up the side of her cheek in a 'my germs' kind of childlike mentality, he proceeded to make a show of passing her along for a short breather. "Be sure you don't go and lose her again, you hear me Samuel? And you..." Thoughtfully watching the heiress in what was a blatant attempt to make a good impression, the man with the singularly attention-grabbing jewelry begrudgingly released her at long last. "Don't forget that we still have business to discuss, my dear." Ignoring the way she recoiled away from him and deeper into the more historied option, that was that.

Prepared to play this game of tug-o-war until the woman was split down the center as soon as he heard that arrogant piece of shit open his trap, the thief kept a firm hold on her shoulder. Nathan and Elena had both felt inclined to remind him that this was supposed to be a somber day, that there was absolutely no good reason to get into a fight with the other guests. 'Lena's lecture had come first, just before she had given Daniella the rough outlines of the program that had been written up; Nathan's was served with the parting of ways, just after it had been decided that Dells would be the one covering their dinner at the restaurant. Honestly it was the exact scene he had always pictured when trying to visualize what a 'normal life' might entail, only this time the blank slate at the ex-con's side had features.

Speaking of the female moneybags, the Dells of the present had placed her hand over his own in a way that seemed (to him) to tip the scales in a way that wasn't strictly platonic, squeezing it just gently enough to get her message across. No doubt immensely grateful for the rescue and painfully aware that things could have gone so much worse, she wasted her efforts shaking her head in a silent plea. Nose filling up with that near-and-dear smell that only she could produce, the historian wasn't about to cause a scene. At least, not like that.

For Sullivan's sake and Sullivan's sake alone, the older explorer relented only because he wasn't about to get into a fight today of all days. Delighting more than he probably should have in the sigh of relief that he could feel shooting up through her chest, Sam smirked at the back of her head. Pleased with himself for still having the kind of sway over the heiress that he did, the serial wife-stealer did what he did best and seized her by the waist, brazenly stroking the seam that just so happened to hide the zipper.

Playing the part that was sometimes required of him in those rare moments he had to suffer the empty polish portrait that came with her life, the former brunette dialed the charm up a notch as he made to sweep the woman along on their way, "Excuse us."

Bright a star as he made himself seem, under the glitz the thief was admittedly still more than a little too rough as he guided the woman toward an unremarkable back door. Aware of how that sounded (thank you), the silver fox settled on merely adjusting his hold on the heiress, slipping his grasp from her shoulder to a creeping downward crawl.

"Aurora!" Beleaguered and an inch from slipping into insanity, the desperate matronly cry that had cut the room like a hot knife through a frosted cake had alerted everyone but the person that it was intended for.

Green as a fresh sprig of mint, brown like the earth, blues as all encompassing as the seven seas, there was hardly any gray at all; and yet, all the possible color combinations were staring. Girlish giggling high and bursting with life, the twosome were cut-off as a small ball of rampant untapped energy darted underfoot. Catching Daniella by the seamstress's secret so that she didn't accidentally trip over the child in her dour cloud, Sam continued to hold her even when it was no longer necessary.

What could he say? Old habits died hard.

Rooted to the spot by more than a pair of strong, sure hands placed strategically upon her hips, the heiress was immediately transfixed by the same little girl that had effectively stolen the scene already. Sapped of that ghostly cobalt yet entirely focused, the woman was too far gone to even consider thinking about hiding the fact that she was gaping at the child. Memorized by the dark tresses that were streaming behind the girl's back like a river of blood that had intentionally been blacked for the sake of censorship, it was difficult not to stare.

Vulnerable in a way that it hadn't been since their most recent bender (which given how recent that had been might not have been the best example), Sam detected hints of the cracks that remained in the woman's soul.

Guarded but worn to the point of being an easy score, there was a thorny rawness to her voice then, a sort of wild desperation and semi-smothered longing. No doubt seeking an answer from the universe itself rather than a handsome thief that knew a thing or two about the world (and his fair share of heartbreak), the only thing shining in the many conflicting shades of gray and blue was the child. "Does she look happy to you?"

"Aurora!" Repeating the little one's name with a last-ditch effort at gusto, it seemed almost as if giving up was the key to getting the girl's attention.

Darling black cherry ceasing the pursuit of her invisible playmate just long enough to look at the couple that had been so effected by her game, she immediately recognized the man as the same one that had reunited her with her guardian. Electing to keep herself a prop in the background, his lady friend was largely overlooked and treated as if she weren't even there. Grinning a goofy grin that proudly showcased more gum than baby teeth, Aurora waved with so much earnest vigor that she accidentally smacked herself in the side of the face.

Question going unanswered not out of spite but because something far more pressing had come up, the thief let go of his former charge with some resistance, her fingers clawing in that panicky way when she realized what he was doing. Pale, sweaty, and reluctant to part, she reached out for the man only to be rebuffed and catch the empty air... her punishment for daring to give him the cold shoulder?

Gathering from past experiences and drunken confessions that Dells would read too much into it no matter what, he didn't dwell too much on the quandary of who to serve first. A big brother before he was anything else, the historian knelt down to the girl's level and kindly asked her if she was going to be alright. Reminded just a bit of a certain someone, it was the natural reaction after learning to deal with very small people, such as Cassie and Amelia. "You ok?"

Concern met with a reassuring nod, Aurora beamed as if nothing had happened. "I'm teh obly onb. Eberryonb here looks so sad..." Genuinely bummed out by the many many sorrowful head shakes, Aurora noticed the heiress for the first time. Deeper than the soul of any isle or mountain villa, her innocent eyes studied the woman for a solid minute before she pointed at the tears that had started to well up in the corners of her pained eyes. "Are yub albright, lady?"

Having every intention of saying that she was fine, rather than form a coherent noise of affirmation in the back of the throat, Daniella managed to somehow choke on the length of her own tongue. Practice appointing the first target of her gargled plea for help, inexplicably the heiress had turned to the little one's guardian.

Incapable of releasing anything sensible out into the ether, the junior explorer shamefully made a hasty retreat before letting out more than anyone had bargained for. Slanted slash quickly covered by an equally lopsided smack, the back of her hand was all that separated the well-to-do from the toilet. In addition to feeling frantic - the degree someplace between forgetting something important at home and being manhandled by a stranger in a dark place - it was bad enough that she felt backed into a corner... The last thing Dells needed was to think that she was going to lose her lunch too.

[As The Bird Flies]

Fresh and moist closest to the source whereas the underbelly was dried into a chalky crust, the sick coated their fingertips just as much as the salty spray of the sea. Aura pungent as a drainage ditch and following the heiress like a cartoonish chartreuse cloud, the stench of piss and puke lingered something fierce. Day jobs making the arrangement feel more than a little familiar, it wasn't so bad when it came time to deal with their little ragaholic. Transferring back the layered spew on the tail-feathers of swallows, in order to prevent their enraged plaything from biting, one had ripped her head back by strands of brassy saffron knots, allowing the other the honor of delivering the knock out.

Blow always observed by the girl's blood brother, by the time they had jumped on the flight to Yemen both hipsters had earned their fair share of scratches and meager surface wounds. Reserved and keeping primarily to himself, the little soldier boy wasn't entirely without a mark of his own, though he wore the bruise without comment or remorse. If Angel and Ashley could say that they had learned anything on this trip, it was that the heiress could pack quite the punch despite being out of it.

Mogadishu all but blanketed by the obsidian temper of their unwitting traveling companion, rain and thunder lashed at the sky, the cracks and roars only growing in their agitation when it came about that the party would be delayed by the unruly weather.

Author's Note:

On a technical level, the transitional chapter I meant to write continues to be difficult, and the opening flashfoward is WAY more detailed than I expected. Also, the original idea for it didn't really pan out the way I was planning, so it'll probably be another two-parter. Truth be, until I decided to make it a two-parter, I was heavily considering using the funeral bit closer to the end of the story.

So many points if you know the bear I mentioned :D