Disclaimer: if you don't know now, I ain't telling ya'. Just kidding. I only own Lavinia and Rielle.

Note: Okay, I'm back in school right away, and writing like a mad bitch right now... So here's some plot development to tide you over. Thanks again for the feedback and questions, and a big hug to my new betas. THANKS!

Chapter Eight

Lavinia:

When I woke up the next morning my head was pounding, and I knew I shouldn't have snuck those tequila shots when I was out of Rielle's sight with the soldier boys. I knew she knew already, it was sort of obvious from the breath, but I liked to pretend she was ignorant. I forgot I was on the bottom bunk so when I swung my legs over the edge I was surprised to find cold cement under my feet instead of free air. The wench took the top bunk, I forgot about that. No more tequila with strange men.

I stood and tried to see if she was still up there. That would be weird; she was always up before I was but when all I saw was her bunched up blankets and sheets I knew she was already dressed and gone. I just hoped I didn't sleep in too late, from what McCarthy told me Hellboy didn't like it when his breakfast was late, and there was quite the pile of pancakes to make.

I rushed into the bathroom and found Rielle's things all over the small counter, toothpaste, brush, her usual minimal makeup... messy woman that she is, she forgot to pack all her stuff. I ran back out and grabbed her backpack and swept all her toiletries into it and tossed it with abandon back out.

After I was ready, I took off down the hall and found my way back to the kitchen. The chef's were all there, already cooking for the troops and tossing stuff around. It was like a dance, a spatula flying and a chef jumped to catch it, at the same time chucking an egg at another chef, who in turn does something else. It was graceful, for a busy and noisy kitchen. I grabbed an apron and jumped into the fray with joy.

Preparing Red's breakfast was a chore, very repetitive, mix, flip, put in the oven to keep warm, flip, mix etc... I was happy when I had a giant platter of pancakes and another piled high with ham, finished with the cooking part. Now I had to get all the condiments and wheel the stuff to his room, which I just realized I didn't know its location. Ahhh, shit. I looked around for help, but the other's were all busy still producing food for the drooling troops and couldn't take the time to point me in the right direction. Thank god for the phone.

Yesterday, Broom was nice enough to give me his office number in case of emergency. I found the kitchen phone and punched in his number, feeling sort of stupid for having to interrupt his business for such a dumb question, but if I didn't, I'd just stand here all morning confused and Red would go hungry, and from what I've heard about him from the others, that wasn't a good thing. I knew from experience hungry males weren't pleasant to deal with, I could just imagine what Hellboy would be like, pissed off and belly growlin', and I shuddered. I wouldn't want him to be mad at me so early in our new relationship, food wise I mean.

Broom answered sounding a little groggy. "'Ello?"

I asked my question. He was nice enough to send someone to help me wheel the carts to Red's room and give me a map with a red pen path marked through to his room from the kitchen. I thanked him and hung up, and sat back to wait for the soldier.

My mind wandered to last night, when Rielle finally told me what happened here in the kitchen when she met Hellboy for real. It sounded ridiculously funny, but I didn't blame her for not telling me right away about it. I was crashed and probably would have bugged her all night for details and neither of us would have gotten any sleep.

From what she told me, he was a nice guy, had a clumsy streak, could make a kick ass ham sandwich, and guzzled beer like it was water. Sounded like the kind of guy that would fit right in on the Rez back home. Let's hope he'll understand when his breakfast comes late this morning.

The soldier guy came and helped me get the carts to Red's room, and I had to gawk when I saw the heavy metal door and the intricate procedure just to get the sucker open. "What the hell is this all about?" I asked my escort.

"He's escaped one too many times so the boss had this put in."

"Escaped? He's a prisoner?" That's just not right.

"No, no. He lives here, just that whenever he gets out he gets photographed or something and the government doesn't like having to explain him all the time. People are getting wise."

A crappy explanation but enough for now. I'd ask Hellboy myself once I got inside.

To my amazement, he was perky and very happy to see me. He was totally dressed already and watching TV, lounging on his bed. He looked even happier when he saw his breakfast. "Finally, someone who cooks these things right. McCarthy always left flour lumps, tasted just nasty."

"Morning to you too, big guy." I said in a haze, taking in the details of his room. Kitties everywhere, TV's and weight benches and magazines and even a computer were somehow stuffed in here, and it didn't smell or anything.

Red caught me staring. "Cool room, huh?"

"Ellie would be in Heaven here, especially with the kitties."

"A cat-lover, huh?"

I lifted the pancakes and set it on a table near his bed. "She had five before we moved here. We couldn't bring me with us for some dumb reason, but she wants to get a few when we're properly settled in."

"What about you?"

"I prefer dogs."

He shook his head at me like I was insane. I only now noticed the little sumo knot on the back of his head and found it sort of funny. I remembered what I was going to ask him suddenly. "Why do they keep you all locked up like this? It seems shitty."

Hellboy shook his head. "It is, but I can see it from Pop's perspective. They only lock it at night when I'm supposed to be sleeping these days. They let me run around freely during the day."

"But still, nobody has the right to lock someone up like this." It pissed me off and I knew it would piss Rielle off even more. We were both known to free trapped kitties when we spotted them in cat cages.

"My dad doesn't like it either, but when the higher ups threatened to close this place down he sort of gave in."

"Shitty. Well, see you in a few hours? I gotta go clean up my mess before the chef's beat me with spatulas."

With a mouth full of pancake and a pot of coffee in that huge stone hand of his, he nodded and said "See ya." I ignored the flying pancake mush because that's just gross, and left, wheeling a cart out with me.

Next stop was Abe's room, which I found out was attached to the opposite end of the giant fish tank in the Professor's office. Abe was equally pleased to see me and his breakfast from inside the tank. "Good Morning, Lavinia."

"Hey Abe. Where do you want this?"

He floated down and took a closer look at his breakfast. "Are those..."

"Yup. Anchovies and rotten eggs, and a side of different cheeses to try out. Tell me what you like and I can get more."

"Mmm. You're a blessing."

That's how the day went. I cooked, cleaned, fed the Big Red Guy and Abe the fish-boy, and did it all over again. I fed Hellboy more than I did Abe, as Abe was either on a diet or just didn't eat much at all. No wonder he's so skinny. Someone has to feed that boy properly. That was the rule at our place, me and Ellie's. You come in, you get fed. Same as back home.

By the time the day was over, I was dead on my feet. The chefs slowly got to know me over the day through shouted questions and good laughs, and it turned out they were a bunch of jokers so I felt at home. They even stuck a plastic spider in some dough I was mixing and I got revenge by putting super hot chilli powder in someone's grapefruit juice. We had a food fight at lunch and got yelled at by some guy in a uniform, so we cleaned up, but had another one closer to the end of the day.

I liked my job.

Back at my room I stripped down, showered, changed and waited for Ellie to come back so we could go home together. After half an hour I thought Screw it and left without her, getting a ride home from the same guys who drove us around yesterday. Before I left, I packed her bag properly and left it on her bed with a note saying where I was and reassuring her about her car.

Ellie, I'm outta here, see you at home

Don't worry about the Big Bastard, I got him taken care of.

I didn't want to miss the delivery, I knew how important the Big Bastard was to her, and I knew where her keys were kept so I could hide it in the secure underground parking garage back at the apartment. I assumed she wouldn't be too angry if I took him out for a test drive first, just to see how he survived the trip from Standing Buffalo to Fairfield. I'd keep him safe. And get a little rush while I'm at it. Woo was that car a tasty bit of metal.

Hellboy:

By the time my shows were all over and there was nothing but B-grade science fiction movies on TV, I was restless and itching to talk to Rielle again. Father had her so busy we didn't even run into each other all day, and after a depressing chat with Liz earlier tonight I found myself desperately in need of companionship. She wasn't coming back any time soon and I missed her terribly, so I reached for the next best thing right now.

After checking her room and finding it empty of everything but her backpack and a note, I started asking around. I brought the note and her bag with me, just in case I ran into her. Father told me they were going back home tonight so I thought she might want to save some time.

I talked to five people before I found one who knew where she was. According to him she'd started her job today, this morning after breakfast actually, and hadn't been seen since. Being that it was inching towards 11 pm I was curious why. I hoped they weren't working her too hard if they were making her stay this late. Chan was a known asshole and liked to overwork his crew.

I popped by the cafeteria to pick up a six back on my way to the garage. If she was as tired as I assumed she'd be maybe I could convince Chan to let her go for the night and she could hang out a bit before going home. If not I'd just have to sneak her out and deal with Chan in the morning.

The garage wasn't far, just a few buildings away and a jaunt outside. I loved sneaking past the guards to get out there, they never even saw me. For a big guy I could be sneaky if I really wanted to. Just had to watch my step and be sure I didn't trip over something.

It wasn't far to the garage and luckily there weren't any guards posted outside the main doors. Shift change, gotta love it. Made it much easier to get inside. Technically I could get into real deep shit for this but... I needed the chat. What were they going to do, put another lock on my bedroom door?

I was a little shocked to find the place empty of people. I couldn't even see Rielle from where I was standing. Maybe that guy was full of shit. She's not in here. Then I saw on the far side of the hangar a dim light, and something casting moving shadows.

Manoeuvring between cars and trucks I smelled cigarette smoke and knew it was her. Following the billowing smoke was the bass guitar of a Koko Taylor song, and I had to grin. A Smoker and a blues lover, no wonder we got along so well. She'd been complaining last night about not having a smoke in days, so she must have bummed a few off one of the guys.

"You piece of garbage cocksucker!"

I jumped at her very pissed off shriek and stepped out from behind a truck just in time to see Rielle throw a socket wrench across the room and kick the four foot tall red toolkit in front of her. "Motherfucker."

She continued her very unladylike cursing streak while climbing back up a stool. It looked like an engine problem or something, I didn't know enough to tell for sure, with one of the larger trucks. She literally had to climb up and perch under the hood. Tiny as she was, it was almost funny, her in comparison to the engine block she was working on.

She was decked out in black cover-alls and her hair was pulled back and tied with a red bandana and she had a mostly burned cigarette hanging out of one corner of her mouth. Luckily the gas tank was ten feet away and not leaking, surrounded by stuff that looked like kitty litter to soak up spills, so she wasn't at risk of blowing up, but still, I wanted to give her shit. Fumes Happen!

The little stereo nearby blasted "Hey Bartender" as Rielle muttered curse words under her breathe and wiped something off her face, leaving a black smear across her forehead.

"That's a good look for you." I spouted, enjoying her jump. She whacked her head on the hood and bellowed a little at me.

"Geez, Red, You're going to give me a heart attack or something." She tossed her smoke in the general direction of the table with the stereo and a half eaten sandwich, but missed completely.

"It's either that or you die from exhaustion, what the hell are you doing here so late?"

She climbed back down and found her smoke butt, placing it in an empty can. "Chan gave me one fuck of an evil schedule, and the others can't be here all the time, so that just leaves me and 60 vehicles with various problems that need to be fixed 'right fucking now!', in Chan's words. I really didn't have a choice." Her voice imitated Chan's almost exactly.

I wanted to punch Chan. "Well, its 11:30, and you've been here since..."

"Six thirty five this morning."

"Christ." Seventeen hours, hopefully peppered with enough breaks, at least time to eat something. I watched her start to climb back up the stool, admired her tenacity, but wanted company bad enough to say, "Oh, no you don't. You're leaving here and getting drunk with me." I wrapped an arm around her waist, picked her light form off the stool and set her firmly on the ground again. She looked a bit surprised but she didn't smack me with a wrench like I expected. She stretched and I heard every bone in her back crack.

"Stubborn aren't you?" She said, dropping her tool back in the toolbox and going for the sink.

"Stubborn? Me? Who's been here for 17 hours?"

She splashed water at me but continued washing her hands of grease and fuel. "Yah yah. Whatever."

She stripped out of her coveralls and ripped the bandana off her head, but kept her hair in the ponytail. The silly broad didn't even have a jacket; all she had was a tiny tank-top and jeans. She was going to freeze.

"You've got a smear on your forehead." I dropped her bag on a nearby stool and pointed at her head with a grin.

"Shit." After she cleaned herself I walked off, pretending to lure her by shaking the beer cans. "Here Ellie... Here girl!"

"Quit it, fathead." She snarled, picking up her backpack and skimming the note. She smiled when she saw the Big Bastard part. I still wasn't sure what that part meant but I hoped it didn't mean me.

As she caught up to me I smacked her with the tip of my tail. "Fathead?"

"Want me to cut that thing off?" She swatted at it and missed.

A few minutes later we found ourselves on the roof of the Garage, just sitting there drinking and not saying a word. I wanted to talk, make some sort of noise, but it was nice to be quiet sometimes. Especially with the night being the way it was. Big fat yellow moon, starry sky, a few scattered white puffy clouds. It was peaceful. A little chilly but peaceful.

I lit up a fat stogie and lit Rielle's last cigarette, and we smoked together. It was a little weird to be so quiet, but I didn't want to be the first to say anything, although I was bursting with questions. The companionship was good enough. She relaxed enough to let her hair out of the ponytail and it blew around behind her, and the light from the tip of her cigarette lit up her sharp cheekbones, almost lending her a magical glow. I caught myself before my thoughts led elsewhere further, and gave myself a mental slap with my own tail. Remember, Liz is still around. She may be overseas but she's still in your heart. And you barely know this kid. Smarten up dumbass.

Anyways, she was fine as a friend. One of these nights I actually want to get pissed with her, see where her beer limit is. I still haven't met anyone who can beat me, and this six pack wasn't nearly enough to get my light-headed, let alone wasted.

Rielle:

Red looked like he wanted to say something but just couldn't get it out. Every once in a while his face would screw up a bit and he'd take a deep breathe, but then just sigh and puff on his cigar or take a swig of that horrible beer he had. I was tempted to prompt him, but really, if he wanted to say or ask something, he could do it himself. Frankly I was too tired to prod anyone tonight. Anyways, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, and it was such a nice night it didn't matter whether we talked or not. I was happy enough staring at the moon and drinking with a friend.

As we sat and smoked in silence, gazing at the starlit sky and sipping at stolen beer, I pondered the strangeness of our meeting and the already significant changes my new friend had made to my life. As a child, I had been taught not to 'tolerate' people's differences and/or faults, but to accept them. Toleration was something you did while sitting next to a screaming child or listening to an ignorant person say ignorant things. Acceptance, on the other hand, was not so easy to grasp. When you accept someone, you do it fully and completely, no compromise.

The lesson now applied to its extreme showed me everything. I'd never know the full meaning of acceptance until now, with him, here on the roof of the garage where we accepted who each other was and was content with that. It felt wonderful, being fully accepted and appreciated so quickly, and by one so cool. I already felt like I never wanted to be separated from him, a comrade and kindred spirit. Maybe that was a little much but I couldn't go against my instinct, which told me to stick close, learn, listen and protect.

I tore my eyes away from the fat harvest moon and laid them on my new friend. One of the mechanics told me earlier his birthday was coming up fast, and I had wracked my brain all evening trying to think of something appropriate to give him. By now I owed him a case of beer but that seemed cheap and impersonal. Although I'd only known him for two days I wanted to give him something he'd squeal over, like I would someone who I cared deeply for, like Lavinia or Maurice. I'd probably have to ask Abe.

He was looking comfortable in his pale leather jacket, leaning back against the metal shingles and staring straight up. How he got the beer down his throat without choking was beyond me. The tip of his cigar glowed and lit up the dark edges of his jawbones and danced off his eyes. May have a demonic appearance but he has the personality of a trucker. I giggled at the thought.

"Oh great, now what?" I shook my head vehemently, no way was I going to tell him he reminded me of a trucker, I'd go flying off the roof. His eyes squinted a little, as if by staring hard enough he could see what I was thinking. Hopefully not, I didn't think I could handle two psychics, let alone one. I just smiled innocently and flicked my smoke off the edge of the roof. "Fine." He reluctantly gave me another beer and laid back again.

"Hey Red? Thanks for dragging me out of there. I might have stayed til 3 in the morning if you hadn't come along."

He grinned, "No problem kid. I wanted the company." His cigar was clamped down between his teeth, giving him a sort of mischievous look.

"What about Abe?"

Red laughed, "He can't handle his liquor... something about fish in general, they can't take beer."

The chill was starting to get to me and I shivered. "Knew I should have brought a jacket." Red started to remove his coat, all gentlemanly like, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Don't you dare, I don't want you to get sick just because you want to be manly."

"I am manly. And I don't get sick." He said with his chin up.

"You sound like my friend Eagle. He used to walk around in shorts and a wife-beater, in the middle of a blizzard, and whenever someone confronted him about it he'd just say, 'Indians don't get cold'."

Red took his coat off anyways, despite my protests, and slung it over my shoulders. It was heavy and warm from his own body heat, and although I felt like the typical woman in distress, I gratefully wrapped it tighter around my shivering form. He looked pleased but tried to cover it. Why did I have the weird feeling we were on a date or something? I thanked him anyway and watched as he now curled up and hugged himself, obviously uncomfortably cold. Damned men and their chivalrous ways. Doesn't matter skin colour, they're all goofs.

"So, my father tells me you used to be a crackhead."

I spewed my beer all over the shingles in front of me. "WHAT?" Where the hell did that come from? Well, at least now you know it isn't a 'date', huh kid, my evil brain sarcastically muttered as I stood. His father? Oh, Broom. Huh. I can't believe Broom told him, and he asked me about it, out of nowhere! "Not much for subtlety, are you?" I stared down at him, wiping the beer off my chin with the back of my hand.

Hellboy put both his hands up and apologized, "Shit, sorry. The 'no super-personal questions' thing, right? I was just curious."

Instead of stomping off like my first instinct told me, I slumped and sat back down next to him, pulling his warm jacket even tighter around me. "I don't want to talk about it Red, can we just leave it at that?"

I felt shitty again. I didn't want to lie to him, but I couldn't say what I wanted to say. So what? I thought keeping silent on the subject was better than an outright lie, silence kept it neutral, not confirming or denying. But I still felt like a bitch. Especially with Red sitting there, despite his demonic appearance, looking all innocent. Shit. To reassure him I just gave him a light punch in the arm and smiled at him. "Don't worry big guy, you didn't piss me off or anything." Ow! Bloody Solid! That hurt! Okay, no more punching the big red guy.

We ended the night on an uncomfortable note, not drunk but out of beer, unanswered questions and no smoke. We didn't say much after that. He helped me down off the roof and I didn't break my neck, so that was good. I felt like a goof just dangling haphazardly from one arm though, but the drop wasn't far. He simply jumped off, the showboat.

"Where to now?" He seemed perky again, but regretfully I had to leave, Lavinia was probably worried enough as it was, so I asked him how I could get a ride home. His shoulders sagged. "This way, there's a phone, we can call for a car."

We got all that done and he walked me through the buildings to the front doors, waiting with me for the car to show up. He still looked depressed and I wanted to cheer him up. "Red?"

"Yah?"

"Can I have a hug?"

That sure brightened him up. He looked like a little kid when he grinned, and he scooped me up into a huge bear hug. I was fairly hidden from view in his massive arms, and I couldn't help but notice he smelled like cologne and kittens. When he put me down I had to gasp for breathe and wait til I wasn't dizzy anymore. "Thanks."

"Welcome. Your car's here." He put his jacket back on and opened the door for me, but he didn't come out of the building, just stood there looking abandoned. Needy little bugger isn't he?

"See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and lit another cigar, "Tomorrow, kid."

Hellboy:

I watched her duck into the back seat of a black government sedan, roll down the window, and stick her tongue out at me and wave. What a goof. If it wasn't for her infectious weirdness, I would have had a really bad night there. And I really, really liked the hug part. Now I was in a much better mood, a lighter heart at least. I fairly skipped off down the halls again, but I checked first to see if anyone was watching. The guys didn't need any more ammo against me, especially Abe. He was looking for something to bug me about since I came up with The Rammer line.

The more I thought about it the happier I was I smacked headfirst into the fridge door two nights ago. I might not have ever met that strange girl, and gone without her fun sense of humour and wonderful companionship, and goofy smile. I wanted to smack myself for asking her about the whole crackhead thing, but she took it well enough. Frankly I thought she was going to stalk off and never talk to me again, but as usual she surprised me by not doing what I expected.

As I passed the closed doors of Father's office I heard someone yelling inside, sounded like Tanner on another rampage. I didn't even have to think about it, there was no way I was going to let that asshole yell at my father this late at night when he was already stressed beyond belief. I burst into the office with the full intention of hurling Tanner bodily out of here and maybe kicking him right in the ass for good measure.

But when I saw the large group of soldiers and suits, all holding guns and bursting for action, I stopped. My father stood in the middle of it all, looking glum but serious, holding a sheet of paper with someone's picture and some writing inked in black on it.

The entire group turned to me when I burst in, and when my father saw I was present he sighed. Something was definitely wrong here. He had the look of a man who had gotten extremely bad news.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tanner bellowed, pointing in disdain towards me. I ignored him and pushed past all the men with guns and killer looks to get to my father.

He looked up at me and gave me a tight-lipped sympathetic smile. I glanced down at the papers he was holding and saw a familiar face with a list of facial features and last seen locations, and, surprisingly, a warning of Armed and Dangerous. My father must have seen something in my face; he gave me a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Do it." He said miserably to whoever was listening.

There was a chaotic rustling as weapons were stowed and the room emptied quickly, all ten soldiers with Tanner as the lead, yelling, "Time to round her up, boys."

"I'm sorry, my son."

Unexpected, unusual, and wanted by Interpol. My life sucks.