Hi everyone, thank you for reviewing the last chapter! I promise in the future I will reply to reviews, I've just been a bit overwhelmed lately. But they mean a lot to me, and really motivated me to work through the difficulties with this chapter. I'm sorry for the long wait for this one. I hope you enjoy it!
They were fifteen. Mal and Evie regularly skipped class, and today was no exception. Instead of catching the crowded school bus, they ducked into one of the Green Dragons' empty warehouses. This one wasn't usually full, mostly used for meetings and dealings. Some haphazardly scattered boxes labeled 'olive oil' were the only attempt made to cover up the operation. Cops rarely came to this part of town, for their own safety.
The building, though, had several nooks for hiding small odds and ends - cheap boxes of wine, for example, or a couple of chipped, hazy wine glasses. Mal and Evie liked to play at 'East Side Rich Snob' (for purely satirical purposes, of course) and donned heavy fake accents, using all of the large words in their limited vocabulary.
"Well, my son, Ebenezer, is a...voluptuous read-ah," Mal claimed snootily, "and will accept no less than Hah-vahd."
Evie could not contain her laughter. "I'm like ninety percent sure that's not what voluptuous means."
"What does it mean, then?"
Evie made an hourglass shape with her hands in mid-air, before descending into another fit of cackles.
Once she realized her mistake, Mal mock-scowled. "Like you're always right."
"I am, actually."
Finishing up the alcohol in her glass, Mal set it back down on the rough floor. "You know, Evie, sometimes I worry that you might actually be smart."
"Worry?" Evie snorted incredulously. "Why would you be worried?"
"Because smart people go to college, genius. And dumb people like me get stuck here." That thought, one Mal was having more and more often these days, was a sobering one. Her friend noticed the abrupt change in atmosphere and frowned.
"You're not dumb, M. You could go to college too, if you wanted. You could get out of this place."
"Yeah. Like my mom would ever let me leave. I don't think there's anyone she likes to torture and laugh at more than me."
Evie shook her head. "It's because she knows you care. She knows you want to impress her, and she knows it hurts more when she insults you. I hate watching that, Mal." She paused for a moment, taking a sip. "What if she didn't know?"
"Didn't know you hate watching it?"
"No. Didn't know you were trying to get out. You could apply by yourself. Get scholarships. Move out. We could go somewhere together, somewhere far away."
Somewhere with mountains, Mal thought to herself. She'd never seen mountains. But out loud she said, "And what complete moron would give me a scholarship? 'Hey, Mal, your grades are shit and you've been in juvie twice, but here, take fifty thousand dollars.'"
"Fine, take out loans then. From an actual bank, not from some shark like Jafar."
"And that's assuming colleges accept criminals now."
"Jesus, M, you could try. If you don't try, you'll never leave. And don't think I won't go without you," Evie said sternly.
Mal smirked. "You wouldn't go without me."
"Shut up, Mal."
They did eventually go back to school, because that was the only lunch available to them. After class, Mal walked home alone. Evie, she assumed, had been picked up by her mother. Who loved her. Probably because she was actually good for something - while Mal was reminded daily that she was not.
"Girl! Get in here."
Her shoulders sagged. She had just walked into their rundown home, filled with cheap furniture and devoid of any decoration. Maleficent had never cared much about money or earthly comforts. She delighted in power - the power to make people disappear, to summon someone with the snap of her fingers, to draw answers out of the most stubborn fool who dared oppose her. And god forbid Mal be allowed anything of actual value. It was big enough that they didn't often run into each other, though. When Maleficent wanted to see her, she would demand an appearance. And it was never a happy reunion.
Mal entered the living room, where Maleficent was shooing away some of her henchmen. The drug queen of Auradon's 'Lost Isle' - a lonely patch of shockingly high crime rates surrounded by the sea of idyllic suburbia - sat on her throne. It was an overstuffed armchair, but Mal had never had permission to use it. She cast her daughter a disdainful glance. "Bring me my bag."
The young girl picked up a purse next to her feet and handed it over to Maleficent, who dropped it by her side. "I stole that necklace back from Harry's mom, just like you asked - "
"And a piss poor job you did of it, too. She noticed it was gone within the hour. You left everything a mess behind you, didn't you?" Maleficent rolled her eyes. "But this isn't about that. This is about disobedience."
Mal felt as though her very existence was considered disobedient by her mother. She could never do anything right, and for Maleficent, that meant she wasn't listening. Any good daughter would be able to read her mother's mind, Mal supposed. "What did I do?"
"How many times have I warned you how much trouble attachment brings? How many times have I told you that you can only trust yourself?"
Her daughter shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. A lot."
"A lot." Maleficent sighed. "And you never understood, stupid little thing that you are. I was doing you a favor, you know. Giving you that lesson for free, without really having to learn it. But you throw it back in my face, time and time again."
"I'm...sorry...?" replied Mal, confused.
"If you were really sorry, you wouldn't do it again. I don't think you know the meaning of the word sorry. And I will teach it to you today." From the purse, she fished out her prized dagger, covered in a real leather sheath. She treated that thing better than her own child. A child she had had no problem with cutting in the past. Mal braced herself. She used to sob and scream when Maleficent taught her these 'lessons' - not anymore. They were never very deep cuts. She could take it.
But when her mother unsheathed the dagger, it was already stained red with blood. Another hand reached into the bag and brought up a cleaning cloth. Slowly, Maleficent wiped the blade in front of her daughter.
"Let me give you another piece of advice." She threw the cloth at Mal's feet. "Always know who's listening."
A lump formed in Mal's throat when as she gazed upon the crime scene photo - Evie's body splayed on the ground, her throat slashed and her blood pooled around her. Mal thought she had cried herself out about this. Upon finding Evie, her anguish had known no bounds. Her best friend, her only friend in the world. She forced herself to blink back tears, but judging by the look on Ben's face, he'd already seen them.
I'm always with you, Mal. Her conscience had taken on Evie's voice in the ensuing months. Comforting and encouraging, the way no one else in her life ever was.
Mal's eyes were drawn to another picture in the folder. It was the same photo, the only photo, that hung in Mal's room; one of her and Evie starting high school, their arms around each other and bright grins on their faces. They'd known even then that they would be running the school within the month. They had not known what horrors awaited them within the year.
And now, those smiling girls looked up at her from under Ben's hand.
Mal felt violated in ways she couldn't describe. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her composure, so Mal redirected. It wasn't difficult. "You asshole. You knew about this, and you played me with some bullshit story about a dead best friend! Do you always sink this low?"
Ben seemed ashamed, but no amount of shame would ever be enough. "You're right." He sighed. "I've read all about you. Jail records, witness statements, phone call transcripts. Everything in here." He closed the thick folder, revealing the embossed ACIA on the cover - Auradon Central Intelligence Agency. In case Mal hadn't been convinced by her surroundings. "The person they described...I wasn't sure she would be moved by this anymore. And I never imagined she would be like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mal wished she hadn't asked that question. She wasn't quite finished cussing him out.
"You loved her," he said quietly. "Like family or romantically, I don't know. But you did." Mal's scowl softened for just a moment before she remembered who he was. "We both know who killed her, Mal. And my goal is to make Maleficent answer for what she's done, to put her behind bars once and for all. But I need your help."
The audacity of this man was beyond her comprehension. "You think, after looking at some pictures and meeting me once, that you know me? And after the stunt you pulled, you think I would help you?" She snorted. "Unbelievable. No wonder there's so much crime in Auradon, if your top-secret boy scout club is so incompetent." She rattled her handcuffs. "Am I under arrest or not?"
"You are not."
"Then let me go."
Ben sighed and stood up. "I know that if you were the cold-blooded killer everyone thinks you are, you wouldn't help me no matter what I say. But you aren't, Mal." He studied her like she was an open book, and she had the sudden urge to hide. "You went out of your way to be kind to a man you'd never even met."
"And look where that got me," she growled. "Let me go. Or I'll get a lawyer in here and burn your precious agency to the ground."
Admitting defeat, he opened the door for her and ushered her out. "We'll drop you off at the police station, make it look like you got booked like everyone else. No one has to know you spoke to an agent, or what you said, unless you tell them. It's probably in your best interest not to."
Mal doubted they ever would have brought her here if that hadn't been the case. All the ACIA had to do was drop that file somewhere Maleficent could get to it, maybe leak some footage of Mal speaking to this asshole, and her mother's paranoia would outweigh any assurance of Mal's loyalty.
"I'm sorry, Mal." Ben covered her eyes again with the blindfold and led her back the way they had come. "For what it's worth, I never would have done that if I had known how much she still meant to you."
"Rot in hell."
Ben didn't skip a beat. "I suppose I should mention for completeness that if you change your mind, you can always get in contact with me."
Mal chose not to remind him that he'd never given her any contact information. She was starting to become rather surprised that this idiot could talk and walk at the same time. "I won't."
She had been processed at the local police station and sent home - they obviously didn't have anything on her for this incident. Mal stomped into her room and dropped onto the pile of blankets she called a bed, still fuming. How had she fallen for something so obvious? Her mother was right, she was so incredibly stupid.
If she had had any doubts about her mother's opinion, they were erased when the door to her room flew open. "You worthless idiot!"
Mal knew what was coming, and went limp and stone-faced. Resistance hurt, and any sign of weakness would make her mother even more violent.
Maleficent slapped her, and then before the stinging had subsided she grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and practically threw her across the room. "Do you know how much you cost me?" Mal remained still, a crumpled heap that barely made a sound when Maleficent kicked it. Luckily her shin took the brunt of that blow. "Thirty thousand dollars of cocaine! Confiscated!"
"There was nothing I could've done," Mal mumbled flatly. She didn't know what story Maleficent had gotten, or if it even mattered.
The older woman grabbed Mal's collar and dragged her into a kneeling position. "What did you say to me?"
"There was nothing I - " A punch to the face stopped her. She felt blood running down her chin from a split lip.
"I'm well aware there's nothing you can do correctly." She finally stopped, looking down at Mal with disgust. "Otherwise this never would have happened. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings, were you?"
At this, Mal actually winced. If Maleficent knew the extent to which she had missed warning signs, how easily she'd been sucked in by a pretty face and a sob story..."No, mother."
"Stupid girl. Good for nothing. You're like a child. No sense at all. When will you learn?"
"I'm sorry, mother." Even to herself, Mal's voice sounded robotic. Years and years of the same phrases, over and over again...
"I'm still dealing with the fallout. But I'll find a way for you to make up for this. And you're not going to like it - but anything I can come up with is still better than you deserve."
After Mal nodded, Maleficent turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Mal alone to clean herself up. She got to her feet slowly, taking note of every injury. It wasn't too bad. The tiny spot of blood that had dripped onto her dress was barely visible on the black fabric. In her bathroom, she pressed a tissue to her lip until it stopped bleeding and then examined her face in the dirty mirror. The red print of Maleficent's hand was fairly visible on her cheek.
She didn't blame her mother. She never did. Maleficent was just reactionary, an arbiter of karma, a dealer of sentences. No, this was all that son of a bitch's fault. Ben. Whatever his real name was. As she changed into something more comfortable, Mal fantasized about all the ways she'd kill Ben slowly. It was an enjoyable exercise, even though she knew better than to bring the wrath of the ACIA down on her and the Green Dragons. She toyed with the notion of telling her mother everything, siccing the Green Dragons on him, making his life a living hell. These short term rewards, though, would prove harmful to her in the long run. After they'd dealt with Ben, the Green Dragons would come for her.
Laying down in her bed, Mal gazed at the familiar picture on her wall. Maleficent had allowed Mal to keep this photograph, probably knowing that every time she looked at it, it would break her all over again. That broken husk of a person was exactly what Maleficent had been looking for - someone she could mold and use as she saw fit. And Mal had just let it happen. What was the point of resisting, after all? Her existence was a punishment, with loneliness as her only companion. She'd never had another friend, to spare herself the pain of something like this happening again. She'd never left her mother's side. She'd gone numb to all emotion except anger. She was a Green Dragon enforcer, an assassin. A cold-blooded killer.
If you were the cold-blooded killer everyone thinks you are...This man knew everything about her. He'd found out things even her mother didn't know, that even Mal didn't know about herself. She'd lived the life of a puppet, of a shadow, and yet he knew. For a moment, he'd gotten her to care - a feeling so unfamiliar she hadn't realized how dangerous it was.
Never again, Mal thought to herself. I'm never going to be manipulated again.
Somehow, Evie's eyes in the photo had turned accusatory. Your mother used me to manipulate you. He's giving you a chance to make that right. Are you just going to let that go?
Carlos let out a low whistle at the sight of Mal's face. "So you were the one that screwed up the deal yesterday."
Mal grabbed him by the collar and growled, "I did not screw anything up!" She only let go when he raised his hands in surrender. "Just take me to the snitch."
"We think he's the snitch," Carlos corrected, a little nervously. He was just a kid, not even old enough to drink. Legally. "You're not going to kill him, are you?"
She checked her holster, and then her pockets. "I left my knife in my purse from yesterday. Hold on a second." The blade would be necessary. Mal needed answers, and she didn't care how she got them.
The clutch she'd taken to the casino had been thrown unceremoniously on the floor. When she opened it, a square napkin with the Neverland Casino logo fluttered out. Curiously, Mal picked it up, only to throw it down again in disgust. On it was written: Ben, 454-555-0903.
Don't let your mother find it, Evie's voice warned her. Mal glanced at the photograph, and then picked up the tissue. Yes, it only looked like some random person's number that she'd gotten at the bar - but even the chance that she had been picking up guys instead of being vigilant would send Maleficent into a frenzy.
She pocketed it, along with her favorite knife, and returned to where Carlos was waiting. "Go."
The young man led her through the familiar slums, jumping over trash in the street and dodging rats as they scurried out of gutters. It had always amazed Mal that this world, her world, could coexist with the gargantuan skyscrapers that swept up from the horizon line. That was Auradon proper, where the richest of the rich lived. Gleaming and pristine. Mal had only visited once or twice - Maleficent did not care much for money, but she did have a thing for large jewels. Only one jeweler in that entire area would do business with someone who so clearly did not belong and carried a suspicious amount of cash. They'd never stolen anything, though. Police were far more numerous and effective there, and it was hardly worth it when the upper class handed money freely in exchange for drugs.
They came to a three-story building and ended their trek at an apartment on the first floor. Mal knocked.
The anxious, jittery man who opened the door seemed to know almost immediately what this was about. "I didn't talk! I swear!"
Mal pushed him further inside and entered, locking the door behind her and Carlos. The unfortunate tenant's fear was written all over his face.
"It was Gil! I was with him, but it was him! He talks to everyone, you know his head isn't on right - "
"And who told Gil, Junior?" Mal shoved him harder, until he stumbled into his living room. "You know better than to talk around your brother."
"How was I supposed to know he would go blabbing to a copper? He's never talked to police in his life, Mal!"
"That's. Because. No. One. Tells. Him. Things." Each of her words was punctuated with a slap - forehand, backhand, forehand, backhand. Mal lifted him under the arms and deposited him on a moth-eaten sofa before pulling out her blade. If possible, Junior's eyes stretched wider.
"Don't do this, Mal. I won't do it again, it was stupid and I know that - Mal, please!"
Carlos pretended to be taking interest in the tacky decorations around him while Mal went to work on the wailing man. When she had finished, Junior was a whimpering, sobbing heap on the chair. But still alive.
There was a knock at the door. Carlos and Mal exchanged looks, and Mal gestured at him to remain with Junior. Keeping a hand on her pistol, she edged towards the door and opened it.
A large young man stood on the other side. He smiled brightly. "Hi, Mal!"
"Gil," she groaned. "Come in."
He did so, his face falling when he saw his brother. "Oh no."
"This is your fault!" Junior screamed, jumping up and running at Gil with a bloody fist. Mal intervened, knocking him out with a single punch. He crumpled to the floor.
"Sit down, Gil."
He sat where his brother had been, unfazed by the fresh blood on the seat. "What's going on?"
"Who did you talk to about the deal that was supposed to happen yesterday, Gil?"
"Oh." He screwed his face up in thought. "There was a really nice old man. He bought me a hot dog. Then we started talking about where I lived. And my brothers. And what they did. And he asked me if I knew where to buy cocaine. And I said there was a guy who would be at Neverland Casino he could buy from." Worried, he paused. "Am I in trouble?"
"Yes, Gil. A lot of trouble." Mal pulled out her phone and texted her mom. Gil talked.
"Should I not have told him anything? He bought me a Coke, too."
"No, Gil. No one should have told you anything. And you know better than to let people talk business around you. Right?"
"Right. Except Junior was talking on the phone and I was doing a puzzle, and he wouldn't leave the room, and I was almost done. So that's why I heard it," Gil explained with a shrug.
Mal's phone beeped. Order 3. Code for "kill him." Mal stared at the message, hesitant. At the most, she thought she'd bash Gil around a bit, remind him how things ran around here. Apparently Maleficent's patience for the mentally delayed man had run out. He was a liability, Mal agreed, but it wasn't his fault. He was like a kid. She was being asked to kill a kid.
Carlos reached down to pick something up. The napkin had fallen out of her pocket when she had grabbed her phone. "Hot date, Mal?"
She snatched it back from him, scowling. "Go home Carlos. Gil, get up. You're coming with me." To her mother, she texted only one word. Done.
"Nice to meet you, Gil. I'm Agent Kingsley." Ben held out his hand, and Gil shook it a little too vigorously. "Got quite a handshake there."
"Yeah! My dad says I'm as strong as an ox. And as dumb as an ox. So I guess I'm just an ox," Gil told him matter-of-factly.
Ben glanced at Mal with an eyebrow raised, and then to Gil, said, "This is Agent Li. She's going to take you to a new place. Okay? I hear they have a dog."
"A PUPPY?!" Gil's excitement knew no bounds. "I've always wanted a puppy! My brother says I'd kill it by accident. But I wouldn't. Honest."
"I believe you." He waved over a woman with straight dark hair and sunglasses, who had previously been clearing the seat of the car that would take Gil away. "Why don't you two get acquainted? It's going to be a bit of a drive."
Gil chattered away, chipper as always, and Agent Li took it in stride as she walked him to the car. Ben stayed behind. "You did a good thing, Mal. Calling me."
"You owed me," Mal responded uncomfortably. This was a cop she was asking a favor from. More than a cop. In his impeccable three-piece suit and perfectly styled hair, he looked every bit the high-ranking federal agent that he was. Maleficent would turn inside out if she found out about this.
"Still do. I don't consider this to be 'making it up to you'. This is just...whoever he talked to should never have sent him home."
Surprised, Mal said, "It wasn't you?"
"No. We acted on the tip, but I didn't seek Gil out. I wouldn't have let him go back considering how much danger that would put him in once the whole thing went sideways." They watched the car pull away. "Although, I'm not sure how I'd explain to him that he had to leave his home forever. How did you do it?"
"Told him his dad and brothers didn't want him around anymore."
"Mal!" Ben's eyebrows flew up, and his hands came out of his pockets to emphasize his opinion. "You can't say that to him! That must've traumatized him!"
"It's no worse than what he gets from them," she defended. "You think they're a loving family? His older brother nearly killed him today for all of this. I'm constantly surprised he survived this long."
Ben didn't take her eyes off her, studying her just like he had the day before. It almost made Mal squirm, but then she realized what he was looking at. "You're very good at covering those up," he noted, gesturing at his own face. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Are we done here?"
"Did your mother do that?" He was working himself up. "Is she still abusing you? Even now?"
"Shut up. Just shut up." Mal never thought about it in front of other people. Show no weakness. But he reached out just as she started walking away, and she flinched. For a moment there was pain in his wide, blue eyes - whether he thought Mal was afraid of him, or whether he was hurting for her, she didn't know. "Don't ever touch me!"
"We can keep you safe," he insisted. "You don't have to keep living like this. You could get out of this place."
You're not dumb, M. You could get out of this place.
Ben seemed to know how to push all of her buttons at the exact same time without actually knowing he was doing it. "You're about ten years too late."
"I know." He stepped closer. "I know we are, Mal. We failed you. The system failed you. Failed every child who had to grow up in this hellhole. I want to make it right as best I can, Mal. I really do."
He sounded as earnest as Gil. Mal knew she would have to learn his tells. She sighed and said, "I don't even know your real name."
He smiled. "Yes you do. It's Ben."
"You gave me your real name last night?"
"It's a pretty common name."
She thought back to when she had introduced him to Gil, and remained skeptical. "You expect me to believe your name is really Ben Kingsley?"
Making him grimace like that was a lot of fun for her. "I was named before my parents knew he was a thing. I've heard all the jokes. If you can come up with a new one, I'll be really impressed." The smile was back. Mal really hated how handsome he looked when he smiled. And how handsome he looked all the goddamn time. "So does that mean we'll be talking again?"
"We'll see." She poked a finger to his chest. "But if you ever con me again, I will hand you over to my mother on a silver platter. Or kill you myself. Don't make me decide."