Title: The Evolution of Ashley Magnus
Author: talkofcake/loveandbullets
Rating: K+ (for mild violence and language)
Category: action, angst
Spoilers: all the episodes (and webisodes) currently to date; the rest is speculation.
Summary: In the aftermath of her paternal discovery and rising conflicts between her mother and her, Ashley runs away and begins to discover that perhaps her 'killer instincts' aren't the only things she's inherited from her father.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be a dirt poor college student sitting in front of my computer screen, now would I?
A/N: This fic was inspired by an epic dream I had. Thanks to my friends list for encouraging me to put it down in words.
The Evolution of Ashley Magnus
By talkofcake/loveandbullets
* * * * *
Chapter Two
Helen Magnus exuded power. It wasn't her intention to, but one could figure that after 157 years of existence, carrying a commanding, dignified presence in whatever you did was not merely happenstance.
She was also a force with which one would not wish to reckon. The click of her heels and the briskness of her walk matched a fiery and determined face headed towards Will, and he wanted nothing more than to duck into the corner and be unseen.
"Hi," he said, lowering his book and trying to smile at her.
She was not amused, not the least bit. Her cheeks grew red with frustration and she looked like she was about to bubble over.
"Ashley is here," she said, voice low and abrupt.
"I know."
"And that is the problem," she sneered.
Will would never admit it aloud (for fear of his life), but the sound of an upset Brit was actually quite comical to his ears.
"Why in the world didn't you tell me as soon as you found out she was here, Will? I had to hear it from Henry who heard it from Bigfoot who overheard you and Ashley talking earlier this evening!" she exclaimed.
She placed her hands on the ledge of his desk and leaned her weight towards him, eyeing him closely and so coldly he swore he could feel the temperature drop in the room. It sent a chill up his spine.
"She…she didn't really want you to know," he said meekly, and even he wasn't convinced by his lame attempt at an excuse.
"Well, of course not! She's Ashley! Do you even know how worried I was about that girl? She's wild and unbridled, out of control as it is, but who even knows what kind of mess she's capable of getting herself into in the state she's in!" she said, her voice now several octaves higher than normal.
She huffed, paced back and forth in front of his desk twice, then exasperated, sat down in the chair across from him and crossed one leg over the other.
"Have you talked to her yet?" he asked.
"No. She's in the shower," Helen said. She laced her fingers together and set her hands in her lap, and by the internal struggle easily read on her face, Will guessed that she was attempting to collect herself. It was rare that one had a chance to witness Helen Magnus lose her temper. He wasn't sure that being a rare statistic in this case made him feel at all lucky.
"I should probably warn you that…" Will's voice trailed off. He gulped, not sure if he'd rather be on Helen or Ashley's bad side. Helen could fire him and Ashley could kill him, but then again, Helen could kill him, cut up his remains, and serve him to her pets if motivated.
"What?" she snapped, looking up suddenly. "Is Ashley alright?"
"It depends on your definition of 'alright'," he murmured.
"Being vague with me right now is not a good idea."
"She's just sort of got her ass kicked," Will continued hesitantly. "Said she didn't want you to know though."
"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" Helen cried. "How bad is it? Is she seriously injured?"
Will clamped his mouth shut, imagining two Magnuses cornering him in a dark room with no witnesses to his impending death.
"She's not in good shape, no," he said, wincing.
"Oh my God!" Helen stood up and abruptly made her way for the door. She glanced back at Will—glared back, actually—before exiting his office in a hurry, with no doubt in Will's mind where the woman was headed.
* *
Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have knocked, but knowing that Ashley might just be getting out of the shower, despite her anger, she decided to give her a bit of dignity.
Two knocks and nothing. One more and a muffled 'go away' was heard behind the closed door.
"Ashley, are you decent?" Helen asked, trying to mask the fury in her voice. She took a few deep breaths and willed her heart beat to stop racing.
"No."
"Are you only saying that to keep me out?"
"Just go away!"
Helen slowly opened the door and caught sight of her daughter piling on makeup over her face. She only had one cheek covered completely, and Helen could tell by the reflection she saw in the mirror the untouched side of her face was pretty brutal.
She rushed to her daughters side and took the makeup out of her hand, fingers going up to gently clutch Ashley's chin so she could get a better look at her wounds.
"I told you to go away. What part of that do you not understand, mother?" Ashley asked through clenched teeth, partly due to the stinging she experienced when Helen dabbed at one of her cuts with a tissue.
"I will not tolerate you talking to me like that, do you understand?" Ashley made no reply but did not attempt to move away either. "Now, what kind of mess did you get yourself into?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, Ashley, it does."
"No, mother, it doesn't."
Helen dropped her hand from Ashley's face and cast her daughter a glare. "You could have gotten killed. What if that had happened? I had no idea where you were or what you were doing, and now you return home to me and you're in utterly terrible shape!" She paused, taking a breath and releasing it. "No matter how much you hate me, I would like to know where you're going from now on. Do you understand?"
"You know what?" Ashley asked, her voice high and strained as she backed away. "I don't need to tell you anything! God, you couldn't tell me that you slept around with your patients a hundred years ago, and now, I'm the daughter of a legendary serial killer! Or didn't you hear?"
And there it was, the tension hanging in the air finally summed up in what Ashley had previously decided to keep to herself. Tears stung at Helen's eyes as she watched her daughter from the distance between them.
"That isn't fair, Ashley—"
"What isn't fair is you not telling me, mom! What isn't fair is you lying to me! I thought my father was dead. Not only is he alive, but he's a fucking nutcase!"
"Watch your mouth!" Helen cried, storming over to her daughter. "And it's not as if I didn't have reason for not telling you—good reason. Can you imagine what that would have done to you growing up, knowing that your father was Jack the Ripper from century ago murders? Knowing the kind of mentality he may have genetically gave to you? I didn't want you to live with that, Ashley. I couldn't live with it." She paused, concentrating on her daughter. "I love you, Ashley. I want the best for you, you must know that. If I had thought telling you the truth would benefit you in any way, I would have."
"So what else have you been hiding from me? Have you been slipping something into my cereal since I was a kid to make sure that I don't go all serial killer on you?" she asked, half-joking.
"Nothing! That's it. I've been honest with you on every other account. That I can promise you."
"Do you know what he told me?" Ashley sneered, closing the remaining distance between them and looking straight into her mother's watery eyes. "The night I found out who he was…he told me he's been wandering the world looking for us for the last century, living a miserable life. He also told me that the reason he went psychotic is because of you, mom. You. So since you're all honest with me now, tell me if this is true!"
And the tears spilled over. It was inevitable, she figured, because the emotions welling up inside of her were more potent than her self-control. Helen gasped for air as a sob overtook her, the memories of first so much happiness, love, and contentment with John. The night she'd given him her blood and he'd seemingly made such a fast recovery, only to fall in love with her shortly after and capture her heart in passionate vehemence. But those memories grew dark, shattering her heart in unfixable pieces. Such passion that grew into pure hatred as her blood became conflicted in his body and obscured the good in his heart.
She nodded, ashamed, wanting to explain everything to her daughter but knowing that Ashley, as obstinate (if not more) than she was, wouldn't fully understand.
Ashley's face grew twisted, tightened and full of hatred. She turned briskly on her heel and gathered up her duffel bag, groaning in pain in the process.
"You're hurt," Helen whispered, watching as her daughter clutched her arm.
She didn't respond, just began piling clothing and personal items into the duffel.
"Ashley, don't do this. I need to explain things to you, need to tell you the whole story so you can better understand all of this."
"No, Mom!" she cried, turning towards her in a fiery fury, face dark and enraged. "I need to leave."
A sob escaped from Helen's lips as she took a few steps towards Ashley.
"You don't have to, please. Please stay, don't do this. I love you so much, Ashley. If you leave I…I don't know what I'll do. The reason I decided to bring you into this world was out of my loneliness and need for a companion—a daughter—someone to love and to care for. You filled my heart, Ashley, when it was broken. I don't think you understand how much you mean to me."
"If you really loved me, mum," she mumbled over her shoulder, zipping up her bag, "you would have told me as soon as I was old enough to understand." She threw the bag over her shoulder despite the ache that it shot through her body. For some reason, the pain seemed to lose its distinction as it blended and formed into more and more anger; it fueled the hatred in the pit of her stomach.
Tears streamed down Helen's face as she watched her gather up her belongings and begin to make her exit. She reached for her arm and grasped it lightly before Ashley brushed her away and headed for the door.
"Ashley!" Helen cried.
The younger woman stopped for a moment in the doorway, turned around and looked at her with nothing but bitterness and hatred in her eyes.
"Goodbye."
Helmet in hand and bag over her shoulder, Ashley left.
Defeated and spent, Helen dropped herself onto the bed and let the tears continue to roll down her face. She stared blankly at the doorway, immediately dismissing the urge to go after her daughter. It was a fight that she wouldn't win yet, and probably never would. If Ashley ever came to understand, it would be on her own time and after she had found her own way of dealing with her feelings.
She sat there for several minutes, the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life outside the window stirring her from her thoughts. Seconds later, following the retreating sound of the bike, there was a figure in the doorway.
Will.
He slowly approached, having never seen the strong, indestructible Helen Magnus in her current condition, he wasn't sure how to handle her. The last thing he wanted to do was make matters worse, although as Helen held in a sob, he wasn't sure that was even possible.
"We'll find her," Will offered, taking a seat next to her on the bed.
"No we won't. We're not going to look for her," she replied, reaching up and wiping away some of the wetness from her face.
"We're not?" Will asked, surprised.
"No. She needs…" Helen bit her lip, wishing with every ounce of her body that she could stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks. "She needs to be alone. She has every right to be mad at me, but I worry that the news of all this is causing some latent bitterness within her to arise."
"Some emotions that could have been given to her by Druitt, you mean."
"Yes. She's always been short-tempered and curt at times, but I fear those behaviors will only evolve in the coming days." She stopped, wiping away more tears with the back of her hand. "The truth is, it was always an apprehension that she inherited more from her father than I can tame and cultivate."
"Ashley's got a good head on her shoulders despite it all," Will said, gazing at the broken woman beside him. Instinctively, seeing her wipe at her tears, he reached for her hand and gently removed it from her face. "You know, it's okay to cry sometimes." He offered her a smile which she tried to return, but the hint of a smile rapidly grew into another series of sobs.
"She hates me so much right now," she cried. "I just wish she would, if anything, come to realize how much I love her. I need her to know that."
Will was at a loss for any more words. While he was an expert at understanding those around him and observing things anyone else may not notice, offering comforting words had never been a specialty of his.
Finally, after listening to her cries and watching her shoulders shudder, Will took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around her. Much to his surprise, she accepted it without hesitation and buried her head into his shoulder, her reservation stripped away as muffled sobs echoed throughout the room.
* * * * *
In a dark alley, in a most wretched area of the Old City, the stillness of the night was coldly interrupted by an unnatural flash of light and gust of wind, the likes of which brought an unwelcomed being to the scene. He glanced back and forth down the alleyway, and when found no witness, turned and began a brisk walk. He stopped abruptly when sensing almost intuitively a presence nearby, changed his direction and headed toward the opposite end of the alley.
It was a perfect night to pay his own flesh and blood a visit.
* *
Thanks to those of you who are following this! It means a lot to me. Chapter three will be up within the next couple of days.