"Please don't do that," V requests as Audrey opens the refrigerator door.
"Do what?" she asks, gazing at him with a perplexed look on her face.
"Put the eggs away," he answers, stepping into the kitchen. "Please leave them out."
"But they'll go bad if you leave them out," she points out. "I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even I know that."
"I know," he replies with a slight nod. "I want them to go bad."
"Plannin' on eggin' someone's house?" she bemusedly inquires as she shuts the fridge door.
"No, I wish to cultivate the salmonella that is naturally inherent in eggs," he states as he steps into the kitchen, gently takes the egg carton from her.
"Sam an' Ella? Who are they?" she questions as he steps past her.
Startled, he turns towards her and can see her trying desperately not to laugh.
"You'd make a horrible card player," he chuckles, moving towards the sink. "Do you know that?"
"Oh, I know," she responds with a shrug, a grin stretching her lips. "I used to get my fanny whooped all the time when I was a kid. Even the twins were beatin' me at cards by the time they were seven. So, what are you plannin' on doin' with those eggs?"
"I actually plan on cooking with them," he states as he gently sets the eggs down on the counter.
"Remind me not to eat your cookin' for the next week or two," she says, looking at him a bit horrified.
"Do not worry, my dear," he assures her as he steps up to her again. "I will not be feeding these eggs to you. They are for a party that Shire Stables is having."
He easily catches her in one arm as her legs give out and then he carefully steers her into a chair. She clings desperately to the arm holding her and it takes him several moments to pry her loose. She looks up at him with terror filled eyes and her face is as white as sheet.
"Please, V, stay away from those men," she begs, her entire body trembling causing her voice to shake.
"Do not worry so, Audrey," he says calmly while he moves away. "I simply intend to replace their Quiche Lorraines with my own. It seems their guest of honor is quite fond of this particular dish."
"Why are you doing this?" she asks as she hugs herself, trying to give herself some comfort.
"To put a little anarchy in their lives," he answers nonchalantly as he takes the chair across the table from her. "Their guest of honor is a member of the Norsefire party. He's not much of a worry now, but he has ambitions so they wish to gain favor with him. In ruining their little soirée by giving the guest of honor food poisoning, they won't be as immune from the police as they'd like to be. Shire Stables days are numbered, Audrey. If the police don't get them, I will."
He ends his little speech with a growl in his voice and she's reminded how dangerous this man truly is, but oddly enough, she doesn't feel threatened by him. Dangerous or not, her life is in his hands and he's the only man to show her any kindness in nearly a decade. Then a sudden thought strikes her and she's even more frightened than before.
"V, please don't mess with these men," she begs. "If they kill you, what will become of me? I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I can assure you that I will not be in contact with these men," he assures her. "Yet."
"Yet?" she squeaks.
"I will be simply replacing the food and so I will only have to get past the caterers," he calmly states.
"So you won't go near them?" she questions.
"Not this time," he answers. "I was wondering, would you care to help me make the quiches?"
"You want me to help you poison them?" she inquires, still trembling, but not nearly as badly as before.
"Yes," he answers peacefully.
"I don't know," she replies worriedly.
"I would imagine the chance to get back at these men with no worries of retribution would rather pique your interest," he says leaning forward onto the table. "Imagine getting a small form of vengeance on the men that forced you to be someone you're not. And if not for yourself, then for Georgia and what was done to her."
"And you're sure there's no way they'll be able to figure out I helped you?" she softly asks after she thinks about it for a few minutes.
"How would they know?" he counters. "They will blame the caterers. After all, they think you're hiding under some rock that they haven't been able to find."
"I am hidin' under a rock, V," she grimly points out.
"A rock they will never find," he replies, his voice taking on a self assured tone.
"I'd feel bad about the cooks," she states a while later. "They'll get blamed for the bad food."
"I can assure you that the men and women of this catering company are not ones to lament," he responds. "They have catered many a Norsefire party using food that should have gone to the people, not the bellies of those who don't need it. These people deserve neither your pity nor your protection, Audrey."
"I just don't know…," she hesitantly replies, the shaking is gone, though she's still a bit jumpy.
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he gently teases.
"Alright, alright, I'll help you make the quiches," she finally relents. "Do you know how to make Quiche Lorraine?"
"I was able to obtain the recipe the caterers will use," he answers. "Look at this as therapy. You'll be getting a bit of revenge on men who don't deserve to share the same air as a cockroach and they'll be none the wiser for it."
"I hope you're right," she sighs as she stands. "When do you want to get started on the quiches?"
"Tomorrow morning will be fine since the party is tomorrow night," he replies as he also gets to his feet. "Would you care for some tea?"
"Yeah, it might help calm my nerves," she agrees, looking as if she's a bit lost. "How many quiches are you plannin' on makin'?"
"They have half a dozen ordered for the party, so that is how many we shall make," he responds as he picks the kettle up and starts to fill it at the sink. "Why don't you go find something relaxing to do?"
"Like what?" she asks, still a bit fidgety.
"You could read or watch the telly or even play your guitar," he proposes while setting the kettle on the stove and lighting the fire underneath.
"Do you want me to play another song for you?" she questions.
"Do you want to play a song for me?" he asks back.
"I do if you want me too," she answers.
"Audrey, I only want you to play for me if it will help you relax," he replies. "You seemed rather tense the last time, so perhaps another time when you aren't so upset would be good."
"Maybe I'll just go back to workin' on the catalogin'," she says as she heads out of the small room. "Workin' helps me keep my mind off of things."
"How is that coming along?" he questions as he starts taking out the various paraphernalia for the tea.
"It's goin' alright," she answers. "I'm gettin' the hang of the InterLink. It's been years since I've used a computer, so I'm a bit rusty, but it's comin' back to me. The books you brought me have really been very helpful."
"Is there anything you need to assist your research?" he inquires while he puts one of the few remaining muffins she baked on a plate.
"A bookcase might be nice," she replies. "The books are all over the place and I keep trippin' over 'em."
"I believe that can be arranged," he states with a nod of his head. "I will see to it shortly."
"Thanks, V," she says.
"You are most welcome, Audrey," he responds as she gives him a small smile before disappearing around the corner.
When he enters the kitchen the next morning he finds her already making the crusts for the quiches. He quietly watches her as she rolls out the dough for the crust and sees that despite her sure moves, her hands are shaking. Though her limbs tremble so, she rolls out the crust neatly and quickly.
"Ya gonna stand there all mornin' or ya gonna get in here an' help?" she asks without looking up.
"Of course," he replies with a nod as he steps into the small room. "I see you have been hard at work already. Bad dreams again?"
"What else?" she responds testily as she carefully lays the crust in the pan.
"If you don't want to do this, Audrey, you don't have to," he says as he takes the bacon out of the refrigerator.
"Are ya sure they make their Quiche Lorraine with bacon?" she asks as she crimps the edges of the crust with a fork. "I've seen the recipe with ham as well."
"Yes, I'm sure," he assures her as he starts to heat up a pan to cook the bacon. "I got the recipe from their computer files."
"You hacked into their computer?" she questions as she pokes holes in the crust before placing it in the oven.
"I have a wide variety of talents, I can assure you," he answers as he retrieves some onions out of a basket on the counter. "Are you alright?"
"No, but this needs ta be done an' those bastards need ta pay for what they've done," she answers while pulling a completed pie shell out of the oven.
"Am I mistaken or is your accent getting heavier?" he inquires as he carefully starts laying the bacon in the hot pan.
"They tried beatin' it out of me, but it's not like it's a bad habit I can just break," she replies as she pulls another ball of dough out of the refrigerator. "I've been tryin' to sound as cultured as you, but I guess I'm too nervous right now not to sound like some country bumpkin."
"I actually find your accent quite charming," he tells her as he starts to cut up the first onion.
"Thank you," she says, blushing slightly.
They work in silence as she makes the crusts while he prepares and then mixes the filling ingredients. Some time later, there are six Quiche Lorraines sitting on the table cooling and they admire their handiwork with both pride and disgust.
"They smell good enough to eat," she tells him. "But I wouldn't even feed these to a starvin' dog."
"Speaking of food, have you eaten since you arose this morning?" he asks.
"No, I've been too nervous," she answers and her stomach growls loudly, confirming her statement and causing him to chuckle. "I guess I'm not so nervous now."
"So it would seem," he replies, the smile evident in his voice. "How would you like me to make you some breakfast while you get cleaned up?"
"As long as it doesn't have eggs in it, I'll eat just about anythin'," she agrees as she starts to leave.
"We used all of the bad eggs so there is no reason to avoid them," he tells her.
"You can tell that to my brain all you want, but my gut has a different opinion," she replies. "It's nearly lunch time; a sandwich will be fine, thank you."
"Very well, a sandwich it shall be," he responds with a small bow.
"Thank you, V, I'll be out in a tic," she calls over her shoulder as she heads for her room.
A while later, he is dressed to go out and he finds her back in the art storage room working on the cataloging. Her nose buried in a book, she doesn't see him when he first comes in and he watches her for a few moments, noticing how much her hair has grown out since she first arrived nearly a month ago. It's rather disconcerting seeing more than an inch of red hair hiding underneath all of that brown.
"Is there a reason you've takin' to starin' at me, V?" she asks, not bothering to look up from her book.
"My apologies, I didn't wish to disturb your research," he replies as he puts down the boxes he was carrying and steps closer to her. "I was just noticing your hair."
"Don't remind me," she grumbles. "I never thought I'd be glad to have red hair, but after spendin' the past nine havin' to keep dyin' it brown, I'll be thrilled to finally have it back to the natural color. What's with the boxes?"
"Those are the quiches," he answers as he looks back at the white cardboard bakery boxes. "I'm off to make the exchange. Do you wish for me to bring the good quiches back here?"
"I don't think I'll be able to look at a quiche for some time," she replies. "I don't suppose you could give them to people who need them more than us."
"I could at that," he responds with a nod and then an odd stray thought enters him mind. "The night we met, Jones beat you for making the wrong dinner. I believe you made chicken that night. What was he expecting?"
"Pot roast," she answers as a shiver runs down her spine.
"Why the menu change?" he inquires. "Did they not have the meat you required at the store? I know with his position, you could buy almost anything you wished, but if the store did not have it then he had no right to be angry."
"Oh, the store had the meat alright," she sighs as she leans back in her chair and briefly revels in the feeling of a welt free back. "There was a young woman there with her three kids. The oldest couldn't have been more than five. She didn't even have enough food coupons to buy milk, much less a decent meal for them, so I gave her some of mine. By the time I was done, I didn't have enough for the roast, so I got a chicken instead. Knowin' that those kids had food in their bellies was worth any beatin' Michael could have given me."
"You are truly a Good Samaritan," he tells her with a bow.
"And no good deed goes unpunished," she says. "You better get goin' if you're goin' to make the switch in time."
"So I should," he agrees as he turns back towards the boxes with a swish of his cloak. "I shall not be long."
With that, he's gone and she goes back to her book as she tells her nerves to calm down. Soon, she's lost in the world of de Vinci and V's absence doesn't seem to be as bad as it used to be.
Author's Notes: Mea culpa! Mea culpa! I'm so sorry about the delay. I can now say my muse has gone off the deep end, around the bend and she's nuttier than a fruitcake. She's been bugging me to write an X-Men story and in order to get some sleep at night I'm now back to working on four stories again. bangs head on desk a few times At any rate, I'll try to keep a schedule or something to keep the updates coming. As always, please review.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks - Hamlet