*Changed. /toolazytoredoAN. Something to the effect of me hating writing guys' povs.
Cassie's POV
"When?" Nick pushes at the mess on the top of the crate.
"As soon as possible. Finding her might help us to, you know, not die." Half of me hopes that my drawings will deter him. I don't want to be in this situation any more than he does; at least I would hope he wouldn't want himself pointing a gun at my head. Something I'd cleverly omitted from my vision's explanation.
"We'll gather the gang," he says finally. He shoves a few noodles into his mouth and nods resolutely.
"Are you…sure?" My eyebrows scrunch together. I hadn't expected him to go along with me so easily. I'd Seen him putting up quite a fight. And it's not until I catch a glimpse of her face, quickly followed by a vision of tangled bodies and pleasured sighs that I understand. I should have known that she would have something to do with this. And anywhere she is, Nick will be. Isn't that how it's always been?
"I'm never sure when it comes to what you See." That makes one of us. I swipe the mess of noodles and shrimp off of the crate and lay my head down in the remaining mess. This is too much for one night.
"Cass…are you okay?"
"I'm fine." And I am. Perfectly fine.
"Obviously you aren't." Nick's hand tugs gently at a strand of my hair. "Tell me."
"Since when did you become Dr. Phil?" I tease, sitting up abruptly and moving away from Nick's touch. It caused something strange within me, something I don't particularly want to get involved with. "Let's go home." I grab my sketch pad and start to get up.
"Oh, so it's 'home' now?" Nick laughs dryly. "Figures you'd claim it."
"Hey, it'll be nice to have a home base while I can." I shrug, downing the rest of a bottle of vodka I found floating around in my bag.
Nick frowns. "You shouldn't be drinking." He looks much older than twenty-seven with that face, even though he's still mentally as bad a pre-pubescent boy.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions." The age thing again. That's twice in less than an hour. Nick rolls his eyes but doesn't press the issue. He grabs the crook of my arm and steers us out of the alley. As we're leaving, he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
"Even if all you do is bring me bad news, it's nice to see you again, kid."
"Kid," I scoff, not letting him see how annoyed I am by that. His free fist rubs the top of my head painfully hard.
"You'll always be a spunky little kid to me."
"Damnit, Nick, that hurts!" I shout, twisting away from him.
"Tough." He puts his arm back around me, loosely this time. I don't want to admit it, not even to myself, but the thrill that runs down my spine at his touch isn't even vaguely platonic.
And then I have to remember all the times I've Seen him and Kira wrapped in a very non-platonic embrace. Which is why I'll have to get used to us just being friends, before it goes too far in any other direction.
Kira stands in front of me, sleek and deadly and utterly Kira. Slowly, methodically, she drags a knife across my cheeks. I don't move, just stare her down. For ages, that's all she does. The pain is unreal, but I still don't move. She won't get the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me. "There," she says finally and moves to the side of me. Behind her is a mirror in which I can now see myself. Starting under both eyes, Kira's carved two severe diagonal lines across my face. They form a perfect, bloody x. I try to open my mouth to speak, only to find my voice unable to work. The blood from my wounds is creeping down my face, down my neck-
"Cass?" I jerk upwards, my eyes snapping open against the nightmare engraved on my eyelids. Nick is hovering above me, looking faintly concerned.
"Whattimeisit?" I slur, scrunching my eyes back closed against the sunlight streaming in through Nick's crappy curtains.
"It's noon." I flail and almost knock Nick off of the arm of his sofa, where he so unceremoniously dumped me last night. My days-long binge drinking caught up to me and I almost collapsed on the way back home. Nick, being the noble knight that he is, lifted me up and carried me all the way back. And then threw me on the couch and managed to fit in a "I told you so" lecture before I passed out. "Coffee?" Nick points to a mug sitting on the coffee table. The sharp scent assails my nostrils, and it's all I can do to nod through my pounding headache. He Moves the cup over to me with a self-satisfied smile.
"Impressive." I roll my eyes. "Damn showoff." I pluck the cup from the air, since I totally couldn't have grabbed it off of the table on my own. My lips are inches away from the sweet salvation when there's a loud knock at the door and the burning hot coffee flies out of the cup all over my front. "HOLY-" Nick rushes to the door and snatches the package from the mailman I should have Seen coming while I desperately rip at my shirt to get away from the molten liquid. Jesus, did he make this in a freaking volcano?
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I yell, running over to the sink and simultaneously ripping off the fabric that's aiding it burning off my skin. The spout's broken, which is just in my favor; instead of flowing down when I turn on the sink, the water shoots straight out and onto my flaming skin. "Holy mother of Jesus," I pant, assessing the damage of the blistering skin leaking from under my bra.
"Um…" The rest of my skin turns red when I realize that I'm standing in the middle of Nick's kitchen in nothing but my ratty bra. This is awkward. Especially since Nick seems incapable of looking away from the train wreck of my chestal area.
"My eyes are up here." My attempt at lightening the situation and distract from my own embarrassment. It works, to a point; Nick laughs and turns away from me.
"I think I have some Aloe…" he says, disappearing into his room and returning with an old-looking bottle of Aloe-infused lotion.
"Is it good?" I eye the molding label. He regards it too, as if deliberating. He shrugs, shakes the bottle, and squeezes some out on his hand. It looks a little runny, but not too gross. As if without thinking, he slaps his hand on the red mark below my collarbone. The lotion immediately cools my skin, despite how hot I've suddenly become with Nick's hands on me.
"I-I can do that," I say. He looks up at me, blushes again, and moves away quickly.
"Sorry, I…I didn't realize…" He stammers, even his ears a bright red. I grab the bottle of lotion from him.
"No harm, no foul. Although I will be calling my attorney about the third-degree burns." I finish the job, tactfully turning my body away from Nick. I have to toss the coffee-stained shirt and rummage around through my bag, extracting the only appropriately sized shirt I have. I stand in front of a mirror in Nick's living room and comb my fingers through my hair in an sad attempt to tame it. No point in looking like a hood rat for the rest of my life.
"Okay, Miss America, what do we do first?" I stick my tongue out at Nick, who's returned to an acceptable shade of human. I pause in my ministrations.
"Emily." I haven't Seen a lot of her lately, but she was in my Vision from last night. I'm only assuming that that means she has a major part to play in whatever this is. "We definitely need to find Emily first."
"Well, isn't this your lucky day. I know exactly where she is," Nick says smugly.
"I'll be sure to build you a shrine when we're in the clear." We start for the door, me braced for the sunlight, when a dizzying premonition knocks me back against the doorframe. I vaguely feel Nick shoving a pen and my sketchbook into my hand. The pen glides across the page, revealing a tall Chinese girl with thick bangs, a lollipop in her mouth. Next to her stands a boy, a Bleeder. His mouth is stretched wide. Division members, American Division members, bloom on the floor at their feet.
"What's that supposed to be?" Nick frowns at the drawing.
I shrug at first, unable to place the faces. "I don't…" And then it clicks. "It's those kids! The Pop kids-"
"They're dead."
"Obviously not. I saw them alive…" But I still stop and go back over what I Saw. True, they had a striking resemblance to the jerk Pops, but I can see the subtle differences; the wider eyes, the narrower cheeks. "They're related somehow. They have to be," I amend.
"What are we supposed to do about them?"
"I don't know," I admit. I wish I could see the whys of my visions, not just the whats.
"You're so helpful."
"Let's see you figure it out," I say furiously. I'm already upset that I don't know what's going on-I don't need Nick getting on my case too. "I'm sorry I'm not a fucking know-it-all like you are!" My fingers grind into a fist and it's all I can do not to punch Nick. I don't understand how we've gone from awkwardly getting along to me wanting to rip out his throat in two point three seconds. This is going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.
"Jesus, I need a drink."
/threatening for reviews. :3