Caveat: Disclaims on all Touching Evil subjects, sadly. Hope you guys caught Grief last night [tears]. I didn't since I don't get that channel where I'm staying. I'm having my dad tape it haha! Anyway, so any normal person would know the DMV's closed on Saturdays. So some village's missing their idiot, what can I say. Probably sometime this week. Enjoy this chapter which is two chapters put together to make up for the delay.
- Heaven's Burning -
By Mia Ai-no-Tora
Chapter Nine: "Pretty Devil"
- This chapter is rated R for sexual scenes, language. -
First it was tears.
Creegan himself didn't really expect it; though of course he never could predict when and where or why exactly would a woman be crying, and for him no less.
Hallie began shaking, mandatory for one who was having a semi-breakdown as her sobs turned to outright cries and was loud enough to capture the attention of all the members in the store. Everyone was either looking at Creegan - giving him stares saying, Is that your girlfriend? Or your child? - or at Hallie who finally collapsed onto the cold floor and bawling her head off. She wet the ground with her tears - someone should bring out one of those bright yellow 'slippery when wet' cautionary signs out was one thought Creegan had before he sighed and walked back towards her, getting down on his haunches to be level with her. He would have taken a much longer time to carefully pick and choose his words, but honestly was the Jack of all trades in the business of the frontal-lobe injury. "You weren't expecting me to say 'I love you' back, did you?" A woman nearby suddenly shook her head and strode away. Another one of those complicated and mismatched boyfriend-girlfriend arguments about love. Honestly - youth these days.
Hallie slowly lifted her head where she had buried it in her arm, nose red and eyes shining, lips trembling. What was she, a child? "No, I didn't - I don't expect anything from you David. Just seeing you walk away from me like that . . . It hurt me like you - y-you wouldn't know. I've had so many people walk out on me . . . Please don't let me go through it again with you." She was pleading and wearing out the helpless factor as she reached out and held a vice-like grip on his wrist. "Please, David."
He regarded her for a long moment, eyebrows drawn together. She's gone through a lot. That's all, she's not crazy. Though something in his brain was signaling warning signs, faint but audible like sounds through a thick blanket of fog. "All right. I'll help you home, just get off the floor - somebody might slip or something and my insurance company won't be very happy." Grabbing both forearms, he hefted her upright until she was leaning against him, breathless. She took off her thick gloves and used them to wipe her face with before stuffing them into her jacket pockets.
"Jeezus, I haven't seen a tantrum thrown like that since the time of the Beanie-Baby craze - they had ran out of all the seal ones. Sam cried all the way home until bedtime." He chuckled. Somehow he had the energy to laugh. Hallie was mesmerized by his smiling lips but the darkened eyes were what pulled her in the most.
"I'm sorry . . . I'm such a burden to you, aren't I." He began leading her toward the clerk to register his new phone in.
Creegan let out a short bark of laughter. "No, not necessarily. You just kind of got me with the 'I love you David' line. That was a good one Hallie - you really got me there. You looked so serious - you should go into the acting biz. Hell, you got the knockout bod for it." He handed the phone to the guy behind the counter for him to get one in a box.
She looked confused for a second, trying to meet his face. "Wh-What do you mean by that?"
He was playing around with the display models on the counter, intrigued. "I meant - hey, look how small this one is! And it lights up too . . . Great for Vegas and camping . . ." He held it up, with all its flashing glory as he waved it high over his head. "Let's have a cell-phone party! Oh hey, look, this one slides down. Definitely wouldn't smash that one up . . ."
Suddenly she seized his arm and pulled him toward her, eyes burning into him in demand. "What did you mean 'I got you with the I love you' line?" Her voice was cold, edgy - different. Creegan stopped, literally halted all motor-functions to study at the sudden change in her attitude.
"Hallie, are you feeling okay?" He shrugged out of her robotic grip and laying a hand on her forehead for effect. "You don't look so well."
The guy finally came back with a box with his new cell-phone, trying to hand it to Creegan. "Here you go sir, all ready for you --" Without warning, Hallie slammed her fist into the glass case, shattering it to splinters of glass that fell all over the floor. Creegan as well as the customer-service guy stepped back at least four feet away in alarm, appalled at what she had just done. He looked from her tight, white-knuckled fist to her pale drawn face, taut features. She didn't seem to notice that her hand was bleeding profusely all over the inside of the display case as she breathed out evenly, "I meant what I said, David. I'm in love with you. I hope you learn from now on that I don't kid around about something like that."
A tense silence as anyone was too frightened to move. Swallowing deeply, Creegan tried to calm the warning signs loud and clear in his brain as he stepped forward, glass cracking under his boots. "Okay, all right already," He held out his hands, fingers spread before him like he always did when coaxing a panicked suspect and using the same calm tone. "Let me just get my phone and we can be on our way. Okay Hallie? Hallie, look at me."
She tried to catch her breath, her eyes suddenly widening as she gazed down at her bloodied hand. "Oh . . . Oh God . . ."
The detective came forward, holding onto her wrist and examining it. "Just a little cut, no big deal. Hang on." He took his shirt and ripped a good piece from it before winding it around her hand and she watched with curious, dry eyes. "There. Now let me go get this taken care of: don't move." He came back to the guy behind the counter and flashed his badge rather clumsily, signaling that this was over and he didn't need further information and paperwork to shell-out. The guy only nodded bleakly and handed him the box with the brand-new cell, eyes switching quickly from him to Hallie, him to Hallie and reminding him too much of Cyril. "Right then, we be off." He propelled her toward the door and managed to get the door open by pushing on through.
--
Wednesday.
Branca fought off fatigue by going to the staff room and filling up a dixie-cup of hot black coffee, then walking towards the window she stood and watched the rain pound and ease, pound and ease every two minutes. She hadn't yet told Alex who she preferred but nowadays she didn't need to say the words; they were as obvious as the nose on her face. She sighed a bit too loudly for her liking - she had asked Bernal yesterday afternoon why Creegan had not yet returned and he gave her a look that said He's your partner before giving up an answer. "He's at Hallie Piper's house and that he's not going to be in until tomorrow. Apparently he's helping her with something." She disliked the sly undertones he had watermarked his comment with.
"I thought he said he was going to get a new cell-phone," she had said.
Chas Bernal had laughed much to her distaste. "Yeah, right - I'd eat my tie if that were true." Susan didn't know whether to laugh at the similarities between them or to brand 'ASS' on his bald head with a scorching hot iron. He continued onward with a much too conspiratorial tone. "He sounded a bit too preoccupied on the phone to be cell-phone shopping, if you get me."
Back in present time, the hand that held her dixie-cup of coffee tightened unconsciously by the owner. Why that . . . That son of a -
"Hey."
Heaven only knew how startled she was to hear his voice in her ear. With a jerk, she had spilled her coffee all over the front of her white blouse and she yelped more in surprise at seeing David standing so close to her than the scalding liquid rolling down her chest. Creegan watched with odd amusement as she hastily fanned herself with her hand, her mouth parted and eyes dancing. "Hothothothot -"
"What? Tot-tot-tot?" He was already smiling widely as she pushed him aside and ran for the napkins, grabbing them by the handfuls and attempting to wipe off as much coffee as she could.
"Not tot, idiot. Hot!" Turning on the faucet, she leant over the sink and tried soaking her blouse and it was quite a rather awkward action as Creegan not so nonchalantly glanced at her backside then walking toward her.
"It's not my fault you decided to bathe in coffee," He casually set his arm against the staff refrigerator. "You know, it'd be better if you just took your blouse off to soak it - it'll stain if you just keep doing it like that."
The suggestion didn't go over Susan very well as her cheeks turned even rosier. "Screw you. I would never take my shirt off while I'm in the middle of a public area and someone could just as readily walk in and -" Without letting her finish, he was at the door fast as lightning, closing it - her heart sped up when he deftly turned the lock. She watched him, mouth agape as he walked back to her. "The hell -- and you think I'll take it off in front of the likes of you??"
"Judas Priest Branca, it's not like I'm here for a free peep show," he countered, sounding exasperated. "I've seen a naked woman before. Believe me, I'm no virgin in more ways than one. And anyway we're partners - we're bound to help each other one way or the other - or so Enright says." That was one of the cheesiest pickup lines she had ever heard although it was the most believable coming from him.
She turned away snidely, venom dripping from her tongue and trying to hide the fact that he looked so disturbingly attractive in the dark blue shirt and faded jeans, the shoulder holster demanding for a higher authoritative stature. He wore them well would be an understatement. "Of course you've seen so many naked women before. Sorry - forgot, my bad." She grabbed more napkins, wetted them under the faucet and applied them on her shirt - only managing to leave tissue residue from the delicate napkins. She hissed in complaint and didn't notice Creegan approaching her from behind until he set his hands on her shoulders.
Biting down the urge to whip around and punch him, instead she stepped away and shot him a dangerous glare. "What're you doing?"
No effect. "I'm trying to help you Susan, do you know what 'help' means?" He prodded her as though she were a child before he chuckled. "Hurry up already - I'll close my eyes and turn away if you want, just stop being childish; that's my job."
The hot coffee on her chest must have slightly burned her skin but she felt it cooling - nonetheless she needed to do something about the burn. And she knew Creegan wouldn't let her through the door if she tried to leave - she knew him too well. She looked more deeply at herself. Why would she refuse him? Wouldn't this be one way to make him see how she . . .
Wordlessly she shook her head, her wounded pride was just something too big to overcome as she attempted yet again to take care of it herself. Sighing impatiently, Creegan closed the gap between them and, for a few seconds of swatting her hands away and ignoring her protests, he began to undo the top button . . .then the second . . .third. The blood in her veins heated toward higher degrees and she reluctantly gave-in, inner Susan shushing and lolling her to shut up and let him do it because she wanted him to, she wanted him to just for him to get this close, to breathe in his nearness as much as she possibly could. She thanked God that the walls weren't made of glass like her heart was, delicate and see-through.
She was looking off to the side, attention set on a cup sitting atop a table nearby. Eyes brimming with consternation, lip bitten, breath shaky. He was watching her, almost secretly as he purposely took his time with her buttons. She was beating herself up inside at the self-proposed torture she threw herself in. I could've unbuttoned myself, but this . . .this is one of my secret indulgences I can never have. She suddenly turned her head and slightly tilted it up, eyes studying every inch of his face like she had never done so before. I can never have you, can I?
He abruptly stopped at the second to last button, eyes blinking in surprise, darting towards hers and the look burned right through her if the coffee hadn't. They caught each other's eyes and held. Her lips parted and she had just realized she had said her thought out loud. She tried backing away from him but the sink behind her was what stopped that course of action instantly. His voice startled her, shaking the world of reality that they were pawns in. "No don't," he whispered softly, his breath stirring her soft blonde bangs and she fought the urge to shiver. He held her stationary by the forearms. "Don't run away again . . .I hate it when you run away from me."
Her eyes began to water and she swallowed it away. If she were to look at herself, she would have been distraught at what she found. A woman, shirt open and having not only her heart revealed in front of a man she hid herself from yet wanted to open herself to the most. A clashing yearning, an overly eager desire to break loose and scatter like stars across the sky, the heightening risk of losing herself altogether, the Branca she wore during the day that carried the humble professional image about. And then it came at the end of the day when she took it off and her real self stepped out, beaten and worn-out. That's what Creegan saw every time he looked at her, no matter how hard she tried to turn away.
{{. . .they say temptation will
destroy our love, the
never-ending
hunger . . .}}
He waited for any sign of change as he watched her face with such commitment, such loyalty, such . . .love for lack of a better word. Here she was, underneath his hands where he had wanted her to be for so long and now he didn't know exactly what to do. No, there was something. Always something. He leaned his head down until it was perfectly leveled with hers, casting aside any doubts he might have and dived in; he focused intently on her lips since her eyes were too intense, too soul-searching and it was as though someone kicked him from behind.
{{. . .but I fear I have nothing to
Give - I have so much to lose
inside this lonely
place. . .}}
Susan was gradually losing the fight. A star exploded between them, sucking anything unwilling within. No, no, no, yes, yes, -yes-.
{{ . . .tangled up in your embrace
there's nothing I'd like better
than to
fall . . .}}
The loud sound of the doorknob rattling caused a cataclysmic bomb to drop and break things apart, as Susan turned at the last second before the rush of promise could ever be sealed. It was as though a twig snapped and knifed through the silence of their ethereal forest of something more. She sharply discontinued their close contact by stepping away and off to the side, buttoning her shirt as quickly as she could and avoiding his eyes. Her heart was pounding madly making it difficult to breathe.
Creegan just stood where he was tossed aside, hand on the counter as his thoughts did a quick retake of what he was so close to yet so inevitably so far away from. The doorknob rattled again - three consecutive knocks. He looked up at Branca's back, the way her shoulders moved, the way she stood . . . There was always something, wasn't there? Always something that would keep them apart - either their profession or Branca or Creegan themselves, a glitch in the system of their personal lives.
Branca turned and met his eyes and the knife wasn't in her gut anymore. She felt it in her heart as she witnessed the most dejected and dispirited expression on his face. Why? Why are you looking at me like that? Why, when you can have Hallie or someone equally or more beautiful to fall into your arms? The wound reopened, weapon deadly, striking. Too late now; he saw everything she hid from everyone else, the drawer opened, contents spilled. He said aloud willingly what she couldn't.
"I can never have you, can I?"
He shook his head as if to answer her silence as he made his way past her over to the door, unlocked it and turned the knob, pulled. One more glance behind and all he said was, "You better soak that - or else it'll stain. I'll send over Sanders to help you." Then he mercilessly walked out - a cloud covered up the sun.
Outside it began to rain once more.
--
Wednesday evening.
Back to the drawing board again. Creegan was surprised at himself; he managed to get home before starting in on the festivities early as he lugged yet another six-pack of Fat Tire from the passenger seat, not even bothering to lock the car as he made his way to his apartment.
Still it rained and showed no signs of ebbing away. As he fumbled for his keys, he heard music in his head. Weird, he thought as he dropped the keys, setting the six-pack down for a moment to have use over his left hand. Why would I have Enya in my head? It was after a short while he realized that his next door neighbor was the New-Age wielding culprit. Better than the old, grungy ghetto-threatening motel he used to call home; it was all Susan's doing. It always was. She had come over to pick him up and the living condition she saw him inhabiting was just too much for her to stand - so she offed him to a cheap but decent apartment his pension could survive. Didn't matter anyway - no matter where he stayed, it seemed that it transformed to however he was feeling at the moment. Welcome to Motel the II - rent of $500 per month so be prepared to be hosed. One bedroom, one bath, living-room. He did it though; he did it to make her happy. Nowadays he found himself doing it more often.
As soon as he got the door open, the melancholy music abruptly stopped and a new tune that he didn't recognize floated through the wall.
{{ . . . 6 am, day after Christmas, we throw some clothes on in the dark
The smell of cold - car-seat is freezing
The world is sleeping
I am . . .drunk . . .}}
He dragged himself inside like a wet dog, whipping his head around to get the rain out of his eyes and hair. Wet furniture . . . Interesting. It was dark as he peeled his jacket off, hanging it on an invisible coat-hook behind the door and striding to his bedroom with the beer, not noticing his coat drop to the floor in a wet soggy heap. He tore off the OSC ID hanging around his neck and tossing it behind him - he didn't care whether or not he would find it again, just something to annoy anyone who cared to know who he was. Who'd wanna know a cop with a debilitating will to wake up each morning to go to a job he hates just to pass the time anyway? Kicking off his shoes every which way and almost knocking the lamp off the night-stand, the shirt was next to go as he pulled it over his head and somewhere in the vicinity of his bedroom.
{{ . . . Now that I have found someone
I'm feeling more alone than
I ever have before . . .}}
He fell onto the bed in one breath, setting the pack of beer on his abs he barely worked to keep but were still toned and obvious. Ripping off one can, opened it and the sound of ker-fchtt like music to his ears, he mouthed 'cheers' to no one then tipped his head back, chugged as darkness consumed him. Drinking poison to warm what little excuse of a heart that was still pounding within its little cage.
Drowning slowly.
[bzz, bzz, bzz]
He opened his eyes, frowning deeply at the interruption. An impatient hiss escaped through his teeth as he reached into his pocket for the cell-phone he hadn't yet smashed up, vibrating in his hand and telling him that someone actually knew he existed wanting to exchange words with him no less. If that didn't make him feel better, he could always go back to chugging. With a swift movement, Creegan flipped it open vaguely reminding him of Star Trek and the little swoosh-kalink and he felt the insane urge to belt out in a deep William Shatner rendition Scotty, beat me up! Or was it beam me up? There was just too many details to remember and frankly by George, he was sick of them all.
"Creegan." The secondhand ticked in some godforsaken clock which wasn't in his apartment, and he said his name again until there was a response. "Creeeegan."
"D-David?"
Not Susan. He blinked profusely - there was an eyelash caught in there somewhere - and he sat up. "Yeah."
Shuffling, then there was some kind of tapping noise he didn't recognize - he visualized a pen hurriedly banging a table. "This is Hallie, I . . . Could you . . .?"
Instantly he took a long swig from his beer, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Hallie. What - Is there something wrong?" Possibilities ran through his mind - Hallie getting mugged again, Hallie getting slashed again, Hallie on the floor of Hell's Cell's in the flip-phone aisle, Hallie smashing a counter with her bare fist.
"David, Is . . . Is it okay if I come by?"
The flood of images trickled to a stop. "What? Why?" He couldn't tell whether or not he came off as rude.
"My dress - I'd like to have my dress back if it's okay," She cleared her throat sheepishly, her voice ending husky. "I'm nearby - I can just walk over there if you don't mind."
Just the thought of her being nearby gave him the hibby-jibbies. "O-Oh, um," He glanced at the beers and the one in his hand. "Well, it's raining - I could just drive by tomorrow -"
"I have an umbrella."
He was stuck as a fly to a roll of sticky paper. He would have happily taken crooks, guns, hookers and murder if you asked him. Finally he sighed; hopefully it'll be over quickly and he could get back to showering his throat with warm beer. "All right, okay, I'll be here." He rose off the bed with a grunt, going to the pile of clothes in hopes of finding the confounded dress.
"Thank you so much David. You don't know how much this means to me." He could see her smiling and bubbling with happiness. His stomach turned.
"It's okay Hallie, really."
"All right, see you soon." [click]
Creegan lowered the phone to look at it, his ear warm and pulsing from pressing it so tightly. He then promptly finished the beer off, tossing it somewhere before rummaging around a pile of clothes for Hallie's dress.
--
The door was knocking. No, someone was knocking on the door. Creegan slowly got up off the floor from where he was leaning against the foot of his bed, the last can of beer clutched tightly in his right-handed grip. The trip to the door was something out of a 90's X-Files episode - blurry with high contrast lighting but to his dismay, no Scully. Swaying, he snatched the knob and turned it, a blast of cold air hitting his face. There was Hallie, soaked from head to toe, her umbrella at her side. His brain barely acknowledged the fact that she didn't use her umbrella. "Come in," he slurred, stepping aside and hitting the wall.
She stepped in, looking around for anyone else. "Sorry to bother you."
He shook his head, closed the door behind her as he walked toward the couch and fell into it. "No bother - just don't expect a beer. I'm all out for the moment." He held it up for her to see. She studied him, feeling around for a light switch and flipping it up. In the light she could see exactly what was what. "David, you're drunk."
"No, I don't get drunk off of a six-pack." Then as an afterthought he added, "Well, there was an extra pack in the trunk . . .that might've done the trick." He didn't notice the darkness eat up her eyes as she approached him with careful grace.
"You must have had a rough day at work." She slowly lowered herself to his right and he didn't bother to focus.
"That's my job in an eggshell - rough. This is only the," He strained a bit, closing his eyes tightly in thought. "Second time I've gotten drunk this week. It's not like I do it excessively. . ." Her nearness barely registered, the length of her body pressing against his side and chest. He felt her hands on his face, gently caressing, infinitely soft and warm.
"I've had my share of rough so I can relate with you, David. Everything's been hectic for me lately and I . . . I don't know if I'll last. My world is crumbling brick by brick . . . The doctors just gave Danny five months." He breathed in her perfume mixed with rain and something within him stirred. Tiredly opening his eyes he gazed at her with slight difficulty.
"I'm sorry . . .about everything, about your family and - and - and about that mugger bastard -"
"You've done all you can for me. That's why I love you." He felt her breath on his lips, hot, moist. Thought processes stuttered.
"I-I'm sorry." How he got himself to say the words was foreign even to him. What he truly meant by the apology was also foggy and unclear. He looked away from her face - he hated seeing hurt.
She shifted, all of a sudden standing before him. "Do you mind if I use your shower? I'm soaking wet." She laughed a little despite herself. Creegan forced himself to operate.
"Er, yeah . . . 'course."
"Could you come with me?"
If he was sober he would have recognized her method of operation - but he wasn't, even if he figured she already knew where the bathroom was it didn't hurt to get up and help the blood flow of his body. " . . .Sure." She reached for his hand to help him up, wrapping her fingers in his before she let him lean against her, leading him to where she already knew the bathroom to be.
"Do you have any towels?" She pulled him into the small bathroom and the standing shower, looking around for a clean towel. He shivered; the cold tile beneath his feet stung him.
He shook his head, then tried again by mumbling, "No. Sorry 'bout that." She turned back to him with an understanding smile before it faded slowly.
"Don't be." He was too slow, far too slow to come up with a reaction when she closed the door behind him, taking his beer away and setting it next to the sink and it all seemed like slow motion to him. He peered intently at her, trying to gauge what exactly was in those eyes she had fixed on him. With gentle hands, she laid one on his chest, the other behind his neck - she was about the same height as he was, her mouth nearing until it grazed his bottom lip. "David," she breathed and he felt simultaneously numb and alive. Intimating the contact, she almost if not became aggressive, catching his bottom lip in her mouth and sucked heavily, face tilted, the hand on the back of his neck stroking his hair.
Too much . . . Too many . . . Too many details . . .
"Mm - Hallie, I --" Reluctantly he pushed her away, his bottom lip aching and in his half-drunken stupor he begged for more. "I can't - we can't - can't . . ."
"Shh, David. You can." Hallie stepped back and he exhaled heavily, only when he discovered she began to strip herself of her clothing. He was trapped within the abyss of his male-trained mind; he was frozen, too stunned to move. With quick precision, her shirt and the pants she wore were at her feet under ten seconds and she stepped forward, completely and undeniably naked. Does this woman ever wear underwear . . .? This time around his vision was a bit altered, blurry. He struggled to stay upright as he bumped back against the closed door.
"Hallie -"
In a low hushed whisper, "Let me in, David. Please." She caught his mouth with her own once again, her chest pressing against his. The world shook all around him; his scar pulsed and the thought of Harry Potter came and went in his muddled mind. Harry Potter and Star Trek, co-ed volleyball, Cyril's fries and the coconut rum of Branca's, the feel of her hand on his lips, on his shoulder. His reflection on Bernal's shiny bald head, Rivers in the conference room with the Doritos, the color of Susan's bra. Emily Akins' grave, that day at the pond with his daughters, seeing his dad across the street in Boston, shattering Hinks' taillight, comforting Susan after Laney's death . . .
Everything about his body told him to give in, indulge recklessly; he had nothing, no one to lose because there had been no one to lose in the first place. His mind argued and resisted as he physically relented and slowly his arms moved almost mechanically.
You know you want it you know you need it why are you doing this it isn't like you . . .
It wasn't long until he began to reciprocate, eyes closed and he dove in front of the bus from hell. He kissed her back hard, desperately as her hands worked on the front of his jeans, unbuckling his belt without him noticing. He held her face in his hands and stopping only when she pulled his shirt over his head before they lunged back toward one another.
There's just that part of me that . . .cracks at the end of the day, and I have to get home before I turn back into myself.
Slowly she walked backwards into the shower, grabbing his hand and placing it on her breast as she invaded his mouth with her tongue. He barely heard her moan of anticipation.
Rule number one: no personal stuff. No sex stuff. Don't tell me I look nice, don't tell me I smell good. Don't mess with me, period.
She was so beautiful. Even in their first car ride, when her hair was still a dark brown. He never did ask her why she dyed it. He never told her she looked just as beautiful either way.
So what was it like . . . dying?
The image of her contented face when she received the lilies, genuinely warming his heart.
No, we most certainly aren't. Never.
The anger that grabbed a hold of her tender features when she slapped him in the elevator. Her eyes when he had stopped unbuttoning her blouse.
I can never have you, can I?
Hallie's hands started to unbutton his jeans, possessive, rough. Suddenly without warning, his eyes snapped open - more awake than ever. He pushed her harshly away, turning and grabbing her clothes off the floor. Trying not to stare too low, he threw her clothes at her. He held a hand up toward the door, voice shaking almost uncontrollably. "Out. Get out, Hallie."
She looked utterly confused and hurt. This time he didn't care. "David, why -??" Patience running on fumes, he grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her out of the bathroom and into the living-room.
"Get dressed." He ordered.
She stared at him, wide-eyes stunned. "I don't understand --"
His hand swiped at the air in front of her, his voice thundering. "Get dressed now or else I'm not going to be the only one who's seen you naked!" At the tone she visibly shook, then without further hesitation she hastily threw her clothes back on and Creegan wondered if she was a call-girl before he knew her. He backtracked. He didn't know her. He didn't know this woman named Hallie Piper. She was just a vic he had helped and brought into his house for lack of something better to do. Bernal would have a field-day if he found out about this.
Once decent, he shuffled her to the door, opened it for her before pushing her out. She only looked back for a moment, hoping tears would win him back. "I love you Da -"
"I'll send you the dress tomorrow. Oh," he grabbed her umbrella on the floor and handing it to her. "Use that. At least that way you won't get wet." He then closed the door, breathing heavily as he leaned back against it. This was it; Bob Barker has called his name and he was the next contestant on the Price is Right. Only one thing for him to do; everything was dropped onto his shoulders.
He made his way to the living-room, tripping on his coat and falling heavily onto the floor. Picking himself up, he went to his bedroom and dove for his cell.
Only one thing to do. No hesitation. Don't look back. Last chance.
Creegan hand shook as he pressed the number 2 button. Please, don't you dare be there Sanders, damn you . . . He waited and he waited, the ground pulling him down and he closed his eyes, swallowing back down what was threatening to come back up. He dimly wondered what time it was.
Shuffling sound as someone picked up and he prepared himself for the worst. "Hello . . ."A tired voice, a tired female voice.
His eyes watered, shining in the darkness and he jumped ahead, panic curdling his blood. "Susan - Don't you dare hang up on me Susan - hear me out - I don't care if I just interrupted you in the middle of having the best damn sex you've ever had with Colonel Mustard in the library...just. Please."
He could hear her moving, an impatient exhale of breath. Second chances . . . Second chances . . . "You've got 10 seconds, Creegan."
10 seconds felt like the world to him. 10 seconds was all he needed. No speech prepared - which he never did, he went ahead almost blindly. "I know I'm the biggest ass the world has ever seen, and I know I don't feel exactly shame for what I've said to you - but I can definitely say sorry and mean it. . . .for the life of me I can mean it . . .especially when I've hurt the one woman who I've never even dreamed of hurting. Just don't ask me why - no one asks why usually when it comes to me, Susan. I hope you don't ask why. Why is not what I'm trying to sell here."
White silence. He wanted to shoot the New Age wielding culprit next door. Then it came unexpectedly - she was chuckling. "Creegan, you know," She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. He held his own. "that was past 10 seconds." He only barely realized his cheeks were wet; somehow he thanked no one for the fact that she couldn't see him.
A short bark of laughter escaped his dry throat. Somebody up there loved him. "Fuck it. Fuck the time. Fuck your 10 seconds...and fuck you." Relief washed over him as he stopped short. "Susan."
"Yes."
"Am I forgiven? Did I say fuck too many times? And would you really let me if I wanted to?"
"Yes, yes and what?"
"Fuck you. Fuck you Susan. Would you let me if I wanted to."
A pause then, "Are you drunk?"
"What does that have to do with it?"
"You are. Jesus." A concerned motherly sigh came from her. "No. No, David."
"What? Oh, okay. Just checking." She laughed out loud and he was filled with something more; it was almost as though there was no spilled coffee, no slap on the face, no near shower expedition with a woman vic. "So I didn't interrupt you in the middle of a liberating experience with Colonel Sanders?"
"David..." He quickly sidestepped that one. He knew it was becoming too dangerous when she emphasized his name like that.
"Sorry. I have an asshole for a mouth, shit just tends to fall right out..." He collapsed on his bed.
"You've got that right." She wholesomely agreed. A few seconds silenced them and she sat up from her bed, a hand running over her face. It was so easy to forgive him, making all the more curse-worthy. Why . . . He won't let me ask but it's all I want to know. "I think you should stop drinking so much."
He smacked a hand on his forehead. "It was only a couple of beers. I'm okay now . . .near enough."
She smiled at the deja vu shiver running down her spine. "Not near enough - I know from experience. Translated to a couple dozen beers."
"You know me too well."
She briefly analyzed that phrase in her mind and she found it to be true. "Would you . . . Would you like to come over?" Her hand fisted in her bed covers. She was amazed she'd had the courage to be so bold so she quickly made up for it. "If you don't get some coffee now, you'll feel like a bulldozer just ran over your head in the morning - and I know you don't keep coffee around."
He didn't mention about noticing her boldness either. "Well, at least I can arrest myself for driving under the influence . . ."
"Oh that's right," She kicked herself over and over. "I'll pick you up. Okay David? Just . . .don't fall asleep."
"Okay. I'll just replay a scene from Star Trek over and over . . .I wanna be the Klingon this time. What was his name . . .?" She resisted the urge to call out Worf. "Ah, to hell with it. Yeah - Hurry Susan. I'm seeing bright colors . . . I can hear 'Jesus Christ Superstar' from one of the walls . . . I want to see you."
She got up off her bed and quickly readied herself. "All right. Hang on - I'm coming."
"I'll leave the light on for ya." [click] With that, David Creegan headed for the bathroom to greet very cold water in the shower.
--
Disclaimer: Lyrics from: "Fear" by Sarah McLachlan - album: "Mirrorball." The story's better if you listen to this track - it's awesome, I wish I could have seen it onscreen, hehe. The other song I have no idea who did it, sorry.
Notes:Yeah, Hallie's a little off. Whaddya know hehe. I've changed the story considerably from the first draft or idea I had. The first draft seems so boring compared to this one, yay to my brain, good brain! Hehe. So . . . Anybody up for a tanned, bronzy and oiled up Jeffrey Donovan in a loin cloth? No? Maybe? Sorry, too slow! LOL
BIG and long Pannido for all the feedback!
Self Injured: Whew! I actually got to post this - but anyway, sorry on hearing about you being injured! What'd you do, slip on a sock?? LOL I'm trying to cheer you up, hehe. I hope you get well soon! And yes, this [waves around] never happened. ;) You little sneak! Haha and a big bowl of ice-cream for you! Flavor - your choice.
Rebecca: LOL No it's fine - I don't really wait for reviews, I'm just worried that no one's reading hehe! Did that make sense? Not really. Took me a while to get this one out - I made it pretty long though I think. 7-8 pages! Jeezus. :D
Flame 31: Hey thanx a lot for reading this fic! I'm glad Hallie is so . . .readable without much explanation from me. There are so many better ones that I've read - well actually, I've only read about four or so other ones. One was by someone named Stele3 and she can be found in the TouchingEvilFans Forum.
Galxychld: Oh yes my friend, he can't have Susan - YET. Gonna be real freakin' naughty! Haha Dodgeball preview. I hope that hint was enough to keep you wanting more! And yes, I'm so glad everybody got that part how strange Hallie's acting! Awesome! I thought it wouldn't get through enough but it did! How rad is that? Rad.
Mrs. Rhett Butler: I've gotta admit, I love your little pen-name. LOL Thanx for all your flattering comments! Yeah, the song - just popped out. Thought it'd be corny but I decided to leave it. Should've had him sing some Sarah McLachlan song! LMAO The cell-phone scene was smashing wasn't it? OK I was trying to be funny - nothing to see here folks!
Alamo Girl: Yes, I look for your reviews. [laugh] And I am so TITILLATED to know that you check for new chapters that often! Wow - like a whiplash [wapash!]. I hope you liked this chappie, hehe. Thanx for reading again!
Crimson Alessa: LOL! Yes, Susan on a rampage - might turn Creegan on so shh! Man, I have such a tainted mind. No surprise there [all turn and look dubiously at Mia]. Okay fine, doubt me, see if I care. :D I'm so honored to bear such praise, [ET voice] I'm not wooooorthy!
Ginger: Yeah, the DMV manual's the best romance novel I've ever read! Woohoo, romancing the steering-wheel, how utterly divine. LOL Haha so what state are you from then? I'll make it a note to get my license from there - sounds like their driver's tests are easy-fo-sheezy. Thanx again for reading!
--> -->