What's a Girl to Do?

by originella

Scarlett "Scar" Davies whole life has been a lie - upon graduating with a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice, she finds out that her distant mother adopted her when she was three months old. Determined to find answers, and having accepted a job in her birth place of Chicago, Scarlett goes to seek fortune, love, and the identity that people seem determined to keep from her.

8. Every Breath You Take

Chapter Eight: Every Breath You Take

Somehow I managed to drag myself out of bed the following day to get to work; I felt as if I'd gone numb, just going through the motions of getting ready before I left my apartment and went downtown towards the firm. Even though Hugo and Allie had returned to the office now, I knew they would be cutting down their work severely in order to spend as much time with Charlotte as possible. I knew they were beginning a new round of treatment and were hopeful, but Allie had told me it was their third time around doing said treatment, and although they were putting her through an experimental trial, there were no guarantees.

I arrived at the firm in plenty of time, greeting Rachel as I always did; we didn't chit-chat that morning; she just handed over my messages and said good morning to me, which was nice. It seemed to be engraved in her code of honor to know what I wanted, whenever I wanted it, and it was pleasant to know that she suspected I wasn't in a talkative mood at the moment. I went down the hallway and into my office, scanning through my messages and ignoring the ones from my adoptive mother; she had been trying to contact me for over a week now, and I didn't have anything to say to her, so I kept regulating them to the bottom of the pile. I knew I could tell Rachel to tell her that I never wanted to talk to her again, but such a thing seemed so final. After all those years of her rejection of me, a part of me hated myself for still wanting her approval, and I'd do anything not to think in those terms.

Judge Whitmore had postponed his verdict until the following Monday, as the opposing side had managed to drudge up more witnesses, and far be it from us as a firm to forbid them from having a fair trial, no matter how despicable they were. I had a meeting scheduled with Hugo, Allie, and Nicholas for ten-thirty that morning, to discuss the future of the firm, and a later one at two-thirty, to discuss strategy for the case. I didn't have anything to prepare for that first meeting, so I decided to go through my notes and come up with further questions for the witnesses I was permitted to question on the stand.

Ten-thirty arrived and I went with Allie to the big conference room, where we were due to meet Hugo and Nicholas. I was pleased to have both Allie and Hugo there to act as a buffer, because no matter how much Nicholas disliked me, he would do everything he could to act accordingly in front of his parents. As we stepped into the conference room, Nicholas greeted his mother warmly, and I knew this would be considered a prime example of an adoption success story if I ever saw one. As I slipped into my seat beside Nicholas, I shuffled my trivial notes and pulled them towards me, raising my eyes to Hugo and Allie, and waiting for either of them to begin our meeting for the future of the firm.

"As I'm sure you both know, Tim has decided that his retirement will be effective by the end of next month," Hugo began. "With Tim retiring, Allie and I have decided to create a dual position for his successor."

"A dual position, Dad?" Nicholas asked, straightening in his seat. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"It was a suggestion made by me, that I think will be the most beneficial to the firm," Allie said, placing her hand atop Hugo's. "While your father and I believe that you've put in some good work, we feel that Scarlett has as well."

"What are you saying right now, guys?" Nicholas asks, his eyes flying to me as I lower them to my notes. "Her?! Are you insane?!"

"Watch it, Nicholas," Hugo said, cutting across his son. "Your behavior towards Scarlett has been abhorrent of late—in fact, ever since you came to work for us on a regular basis. I'm ashamed that we weren't here to see it, and that Teddy had to get involved. He had such high hopes for you, son, but Scarlett has proved just as efficient, if not better, in her junior position, so a change must be made."

"And what will that entail?" I asked, not looking up.

"A significant salary increase, plus your own office," Hugo began.

"You'll also be entitled to an associate attorney, but you will keep Rachel as your secretary, of course," Allie continued. "And, at the end of the year—not calendar, of course—we'll see about making you an offer for a partnership."

My eyes snap to Allie's. "A partnership?!" I demand.

"For her?!" Nicholas cried out. "You've got to be joking!"

"Nicholas—" Allie began, her tone warning.

"No, seriously," he said, cutting across his mother, his tone enraged. "Scarlett's been here for five fucking minutes, and you're about to surrender power to her unconditionally—"

"A trial period will be in place until the first of the year," Hugo said calmly. "But, I can see that Teddy was correct about her strategy, both in and out of the courtroom. Her work output and quality has been impressive, and I'm very pleased she came here to work with us."

"Dad, you don't get it!" Nicholas cried out, getting to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. "She's been sleeping with him—"

"Shut up!" I screamed, getting to my feet and facing him fully. "I thought we cleared up this matter but it seems we haven't—not yet. I'm sick and tired of being judged by my apparent lack of experience. Go through my personal files if you want—debate team and government classes dot my résumé from the very beginning. If you honestly think I'm sleeping with anyone, it's none of your business, but hook me up to a damned polygraph because I have not, nor will I ever, sleep with Teddy Whitmore!" I cried out. "The fact that you wish to paint me as an unprofessional overachiever is more painful than you can ever imagine, Nicholas Blomqvist, and I will never forgive you for these disgusting implications against me!" I said, making a grab for my notes and stomping out of there.

I walked down the hall at a fast clip, catching a glance at a clock—seeing that it was barely eleven in the morning—and immediately went into my office and slammed the door behind me. I dashed the tears from my eyes and slammed my notes down upon my desk, thinking the entire meeting had been a total disaster. I probably would have to beg Kevin for nights back at The Alibi Room just to make rent for the foreseeable future, I reasoned with myself as I plunked down at my desk and put my head into my hands.

Fumbling for my phone, I pressed the green phone icon and scrolled through my recent calls, mostly from Ian. Pressing one of the logs, and listened to the rings and waited for him to pick up and, when he did, I felt immense relief. "Hey," I said.

"Scar?" he said into the phone, and I could hear the flurry of activity around him as he walked somewhere else to hear me. "You okay?"

"Strategy meeting was a bust," I reply.

"What happened?"

"Nicholas Blomqvist is a total douchebag, but what else is new, really?"

Ian sighed. "Did he attempt to tell his parents about your alleged affair with Whitmore?" he demanded, obviously upset.

"Damn right he did," I muttered. "Son of a bitch is out to ruin me. I've tried being nice, I really have. Just can't seem to get him to reciprocate friendly behavior."

"Well, he's an asshole," Ian replied. "Listen, I'm finishing up some work here, but do you want to get lunch in an hour?"

"Yes," I replied, hoping he would say something like that.

"Great," he replied. "I'll meet you in the usual spot. See you in an hour."

"Thanks. Bye," I reply, hanging up on him.

I spend the next hour reorganizing my desk, not even wanting to think about work or the potential promotion that Hugo and Allie had mentioned for me. I knew full well that, if Nicholas had anything to say about it, it would never happen. Perhaps, I reasoned with myself, he believed I was after the demolishment of the entire firm. He would be completely wrong, of course; I just couldn't understand why he hated me, and I became less and less determined to find the reason why, and more and more determined to figure out how he and I could potentially come together as attorneys in the future.

I left the office just before noon, letting Rachel know that I was going to lunch with Ian and that I'd be back in plenty of time for my second meeting. I'd given Rachel the abridged version of my findings of my biological family, which she had severely edited down before informing Allie and Hugo about it, so the necessary people at the firm understood my need to spend as much time with them as possible. I headed down to the parking garage and to my car, plugging in the address of the food truck on my GPS to find the best way to get there, even in potential rush hour lunch traffic.

I arrived at the truck within fifteen minutes and immediately got out of the car after parking, curbing myself from running across the street to Ian. I threw my arms around him as per usual, and he just held me for a few moments before urging me to sit in the shade while he went to pick up our orders from the window. I made a face at him when I realized he had paid this time, but he waved it away and moved to sit across from me.

"Did the fucker give you any trouble one-on-one today?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. Just in front of Hugo and Allie."

"Jesus," Ian muttered, shaking his head. "Think he'll ever stop?"

I shrugged. "Fuck if I know," I replied, picking up my taco and biting it. "I'm starting to want to teach him a lesson, but I don't know how to go about it..."

Ian watched me for a moment. "You could kill him."

I laughed. "Right. Kill my boss's son and then represent myself. How shall I plead? Not guilty by reason of insanity?"

My twin lowered his eyes. "Well, mental illness runs in our family..."

"Do you hear yourself right now?" I asked, deliberately lowering my voice. "Just because you and I are afflicted with certain things does not mean I'm going to take advantage of the system just to get off..."

Ian smirked. "Well, you could always get Nicholas to understand you in other ways..."

"That's disgusting," I say, trying not to laugh as I opened my can of soda. "Nicholas Blomqvist is a fucking dick. Don't want his near me..."

Ian shrugged. "What if it's...you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't give a fuck how large his sex organ is, Ian," I said, shaking my head at him as I took a sip of soda. "It wouldn't matter. He's a jerk. I don't fuck jerks."

Ian considered it for a moment. "Every guy you've fucked is a jerk."

"We're so not discussing my sexual history right now."

"Point taken," Ian replied, opening his soda. "But seriously, Scar, you've got to come up with a way to get Nicholas to respect you. I mean, who knows. The courtroom isn't the way, or your notes, or having his parents or a fucking judge on your side. What methods haven't you thought of yet?"

I shake my head. "I'm not sleeping with him."

Ian throws up his hands. "Okay," he says. "Your choice either way."

. . .

I drove Ian back to work and made my way back to the firm. I'd gotten a call from Rachel that Hugo and Allie were taking a long lunch to spend some time with Charlotte, which meant that Nicholas was looking over things while they were away. I thanked Rachel for the information and, when I arrived back at the firm, knew just where to find him. I made my way to my office first, dropping off my purse and things before leaving the room and walking down the hallway, coming to the center of it, where Tim's office was.

Without knocking, I let myself in and shut the door, automatically narrowing my eyes at Nicholas, who sat rather pompously behind the desk. I knew I had to be the one to break the ice between us; I was sick and tired of his attitude, and people always said that the third time was the charm, right? As I stood there, in those milliseconds, just staring at him, our arms mutually crossed, I was officially ready to have it out with him yet again.

"Please explain something to me, Nicholas."

He had the ardor to raise his chin. "Explain what, Scarlett?"

"Explain what I ever did to make you hate me," I replied, and his eyes actually had some human emotion in reaction to my words. "I can't fathom what I ever did to you; you just seemed to have your mind made up when you met me. You were quite curt, I believe, during our introduction; of course, at the time, your sister had just had her relapse, and I can understand at the time if you were distracted by that fact. But here's the thing," I said, stepping forward, "you had ample opportunity to make my better acquaintance in a more positive manner, but you, for some odd reason, decided not to. And I just can't understand why you would deliberately seek to drive a wedge between me and every other employee at the firm. As I've said, I've done nothing to you, and yet, you seem to want to destroy me. Tell me, Nicholas, why is that?" I whispered, by this time, I am hanging over his desk. "Why do you want to alienate me so far that I'll just lose my mind, and turn and run?"

Nicholas averts his eyes from me then. "Everyone leaves eventually, Scarlett."

"Your parents?" I ask, and his eyes snap immediately to mine.

"What do you know?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Not much. I know about your familial relationships with Hugo and Allie, and that they married at eighteen..."

"They got married so that Allie could adopt me," Nicholas replied. "They weren't in love yet—that all came later. They made a sacrifice to save me from potential foster care. I was five, and I could've been adopted quickly, but Allie didn't see it that way. She wanted to keep me safe, after what happened to our father and my mother, and she didn't want anything else to break..."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice small.

"Allie's mother died in a car accident when she was six months old," Nicholas said. "Her father couldn't bear to remarry, for years—he saw it out of loyalty. But when he met my mother when Allie was thirteen, he wanted a new life, a new chapter, with her. Allie got sent to boarding school and was hardly ever home; Dad spent most of his nights out drinking when my mother became pregnant soon after the wedding. After I was born, and put into the care of a nanny, my father went into a drunken rage one night; knocked my mother down the stairs. My nanny called the police, but my father managed to convince them it was a tragic accident. He remarried a third time—his secretary—and after she was found in a similar fashion, and found to have been pregnant during the fall, my father was arrested. He got life without parole, and Allie managed to use the money to go to law school with Hugo and spent the other money on child care for me. It was a relief, to her, at least, that the adoption went through quickly..."

"I'm sorry," I said, and Nicholas's eyes snapped to mine. "You didn't deserve to go through any of that. I'm sorry."

"I saw it."

"What?"

"When my father killed my stepmother, Joanna. I saw it."

"Why do you hate me?" I asked in a small voice, wanting a clear answer now. "What have I ever done to you?"

"That's what you think?" he asked. "That I hate you?"

"Yes."

Nicholas shook his head, whispering, "Fuck," underneath his breath before getting quickly to his feet and walking towards me then. He made a grab for my shoulders then, and I immediately tensed up at his hold on me, but he didn't let go. He pulled me to him then, kissing me roughly, and I found I was so shocked by it that I shoved him away from me. Nicholas looked so hurt by what I did that something primal within me took over, and I yanked him back to my lips, throwing my arms around his muscular frame.

Nicholas pulled me around then, leaning me down on Tim's desk and fumbling with my skirt, and I made no moves to stop him. I yanked him closer, digging my ankles into his backside, wanting him as close to me as possible. Blindly, I reached up and managed to get his blazer off, and I proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Without warning, Nicholas flipped me over then, so that my stomach was on top of the desk, as he continued to undress me. I didn't protest, and I could hear his belt coming loose then as I tensed up, waiting for him.

I felt myself gasp as he entered me then, and I immediately shoved the side of my hand into my mouth to keep from crying out. I hated this man—I hated, hated, hated Nicholas Blomqvist, but Ian had been right about one thing. It was incredible, his dick, and the feeling of it inside me, clawing my inner senses, was something completely out of this world. As I spasmed beneath him as it neared its end, I gripped the side of the desk with my free hand and cried out then, my hand muffling my scream as Nicholas groaned from behind me.

When I felt him leave me then, I immediately straightened up, pulling up my panties and pulled my clothing into place. I turned around then, attempting to get control of my breathing, and Nicholas's eyes darkened at the sight of me. He leaned into me then, but I sidestepped his attempts to get close again.

"Don't fucking kiss me again," I said, re-buttoning my blazer as I moved towards the door, and doing my best not to stumble, "because I still fucking hate you."

I left Tim's office, walking back down the hallway to my office and slowly shutting the door behind me. I made my way to my desk and sat down again, feeling sore...and loving it. I smirked to myself as I considered what I'd just done with Nicholas Blomqvist—the most loathsome man to ever walk the planet—and liked it. I knew I had to get my priorities in check here; Nicholas and I clearly hated one another, but sexually? Unless I was mistaken due to my lack of experience, Nicholas and I were extremely compatible in that department.

Shaking my head, I picked up my phone, dialing Ian. "Hey," I said when I picked up, sounding slightly hoard.

"Hey," he replied. "You okay?"

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen good," I whispered into the phone.

"What happened?"

I looked around then, making sure that nobody could hear me. "You were fucking right, Ian Gallagher," I replied.

"Oh, no, Scar," Ian said, and I could hear him laughing at me in the background. "Oh, Scar, Scar, Scar. What have you done?"

I giggled. "Ian..."

"Hey, you wouldn't have called if you didn't want me to know," he replied. "Come on. Tell me what happened."

"I fucked him, okay?"

"Fucked who?"

I leaned closer to the phone, not wanting the entire firm to get wind of it. "I fucking fucked Nicholas Blomqvist," I whispered.

Ian let out a cheer on the other end of the phone. "I fucking knew it!" he cried out. "So, tell me, Scar... How'd it go?"

I laughed then. "Um...well..."

"That good, huh?"

I felt myself turning red then. "Absolutely amazing."

"Best you've ever had?"

I flushed deeper then. "Maybe," I allowed. "But there's no way in hell that it's ever happening again, of course."

"Of course," Ian replied, but, of course, neither of us knew from that day until the next how much we could keep our urges in check.

. . .

The second meeting was far more subdued that afternoon; Nicholas was in his element, talking about the case in an animated fashion, and even let me have the floor for several minutes to go over what I wanted to ask my witnesses. I noticed more than once that Hugo and Allie looked more than a little confused at this sudden turn of events, but I would never let on the real reason why things had changed. Of course, it was mere speculation, but since I'd given Nicholas a little something, maybe he figured he owed me this much in return.

"What do you plan to do about Johnny's mistress, Jasmine Jones?" Allie wanted to know, and I pulled the copies of my biography out about her, and passed it around.

"We know that she is potentially illegal," I began.

"Mexican?" Hugo asked, getting a look at her photo.

"No. Dominican," Nicholas put in.

"I haven't been able to find copies of a valid passport or anything like that—I got our P.I. on it a week ago and he hasn't been able to find anything either," I continued. "So, she's either an illegal or living under an assumed name."

"Wait," Nicholas says, holding up his hand as he gazed at the photo.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"That heart tattoo," he said; in the photograph, Jasmine had her arms crossed behind her head, exposing one of her wrists to the camera. "I know this woman..."

"Who is she?" Hugo asked, examining the picture.

"I don't recognize her..." Allie said.

"Jasmina Garcia," Nicholas said, shaking his head. "Some of my friends in human trafficking saw her when she entered the country on a student visa three years ago."

I scanned her biography, which went back a year and a half. "Looks like she upgraded from university life to a crime-filled one," I say quietly.

"Lots of them feel driven to it—either frustrated with their studies or their ways of life just keep chasing them down until they don't have a choice anymore," Nicholas said, actually sounding human for the second time since I'd known him.

"The question is, what can we do about it?" I ask, turning to look at Allie and Hugo. "Is there something we can do?"

"We can talk to the DA," Hugo said, nodding to himself. "If she's willing to trade evidence, and there's actually a danger to her going back home, we can offer her asylum."

"That may bring her over to our side," I say, turning to look at Nicholas. "You know her. What do you think?"

Nicholas thought it over, gazing at the photograph. "I think if we offered her a deal worth her while—no chains or restraints or something like that—but box her in just enough, she could talk about Johnny."

"You really think she could flip on him?" I ask.

Nicholas shrugs. "Worth a try."

"They've been together a long time," I put in.

"It's time for her to figure out who she's really loyal to," Nicholas said firmly, as if the subject was closed forever. "The right side of the law, or the wrong side."

. . .

I arrived sat the firm the following day, feeling a bit better now that Nicholas and I seemed to be on the same page business-wise. He didn't pull me aside or talk to me about what went down in Tim's office, and he didn't need a reason to. We were two consenting adults and we knew what pleasure looked like, so clearly, neither one of us had anything to discuss.

As I entered Rachel and Cindy's shared domain, Cindy immediately turned her eyes to her computer and Rachel got nervously to her feet. As I stepped forward, she smoothed her camisole and sweater combo and looked nervously at me as I handed over a mango smoothie to her. She thanked me, averting her eyes, her shoulder-length black hair concealing a good portion of her face as she stirred the smoothie with her straw.

"Rachel, what's going on?" I asked, my voice firm.

Rachel immediately looked up at me, her green eyes looking worried. "Um, well... Scarlett, it seems you have a visitor in your office."

"A visitor?" I asked, laughing a little as a raised my strawberry smoothie to my lips. "Well, why didn't you say so?" I wanted to know, making a grab for my stack of messages from other clients as I sipped my breakfast. "It's your job to tell me these things, Rachel."

"Yes... I know, Scarlett. It's just—"

"What?" I asked, looking up at her again. "I have another meeting in an hour and a half with Hugo, Allie, and Nicholas. Can you please tell me who's waiting for me in my office, Rachel?" I asked, trying my best to keep my impatience out of my voice.

Rachel looked uncomfortable but nodded. "Your mother is in there..."

"My mother?" I asked, immediately thinking of the mysterious Monica, whom Ian had informed me had passed away. I found myself hesitating for a moment—my thoughts unable to understand what Rachel was telling me—yet all I knew what that the woman who had ignored me for years was a mere few yards away. "My mother is here?"

"Yes, in your office, Scarlett," Rachel repeated, her voice uneasy.

Suddenly feeling sick, I thrust my smoothie at her. "Dispose of this properly, please, Rachel," I said levelly to her.

"Of course, Scarlett," Rachel said as I breezed past.

I walked down the hallway, unease building within me with every step I took. When I reached the main thoroughfare for my office, my heart lurched when Tim's office door opened and I came face to face with Nicholas. I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he wanted to say something first to break the ice.

"Morning, Scarlett," he said.

"Fuck this," I whispered, crossing over to him and throwing my arms around him. I kissed him for a good few seconds, feeling my body tense up when he pulled me against him, but then I pulled away. "Got to go," I said, giving him a saucy look. "Don't go far, though. I may need you in a little while," I replied, turning away from his shocked expression before I approached my office door and opened it.

My mother had made herself right at home at my desk; thankfully, her perfectly-manicured fingers didn't feel the need to touch anything. Of course, due to her good hearing, she likely could have heard me coming and merely quit touching things the moment I placed my hand on the door handle and turned it. Getting to her feet, her pale blue eyes were as glacier-like as ever, and she gave me a smile on her red lips which did not meet her eyes.

"Hello, Scarlett," she said, offering her hand to me.

"Mother," I replied, shutting the door behind me, but not taking her offered hand. "How may I help you this morning?"

"Well, Norman saw you drinking in a bar recently, and I was just concerned why you would be around unsavory characters," she replied.

I felt my hackles rising—so, I hadn't been insane, and Dr. Normal had been at The Alibi Room the night before Lip and I— "I hardly think what I do in my hours free from work is hardly any of your husband's business," I replied shortly.

My mother raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow, straightening her crimson-colored suit. "Don't forget all that Norman has done for you, Scarlett."

I scoffed. "Right. I did all that, Mother. He may have paid for my books, but everything else was on me. I got those academic scholarships. I got the good grades. I picked a career that he deemed to be suitable. I. I. I. I'm sorry that your biological children are failures and your adopted one that you wanted to sweep under the rug is not. Why do you think I accepted the job out here? It's not because it was my birthplace—that was a coincidence. It was because it was the one furthest away from all of you. I couldn't stand my existence, and now, I have a family who loves and cares for me and accepts me for what I am—a person with thoughts and feelings. Not someone to be shoved in a corner, to be made to feel like they don't belong. Why do you think I worked my ass off growing up, Mother? It was so I could carve out a niche for myself as far away from all of you as possible!"

Immediately, my mother reaches out and slaps me across the face. "You will not speak to me that way, Scarlett!" she screams. "I am your mother!"

"You are not my mother!" I cried out then, not giving her the satisfaction to see me holding my cheek. "A mother does things for their children—and you certainly never did anything to warrant that title!"

"You will show me respect—!"

"You haven't earned it!" I raged, drawing myself up to my full height. "Get the fuck out of my office and never come back! Do you hear me?!" I cried out then, stepping forward, towards her, taunting her—daring her to hit me again. "I never want to see you again!"

"Insolent child!" my mother said under her breath, plowing past me and walking out of my office, slamming the door behind her so that the glass rattled.

I stood there for a moment, leaning up against my desk, before I took my cell phone out of my pocket and switched on camera mode. Getting a good look at my face, I saw that my cheek was only slightly red, and that there wouldn't be any permanent damage, thankfully. I straightened my clothes then, walking towards the door of my office and opening it. I walked down the hallway towards Tim's office and, taking a chance, turned the handle and stood there for a moment in the doorway, taking in Nicholas making a phone call.

He beckoned me into the office, motioning for me to shut the door and held up his finger for me to wait a moment as he continued his phone call. I perched on the offered chair, wondering how many clients had sat there in the past during Tim's fourteen years with the firm. I clasped my hands at my knees, going over what my mother and I had said to one another, and I knew then that I had meant it. I never wanted to see her again, and was fully prepared to take action if she, Dr. Normal, or any of the boys dared to contact me again.

Nicholas completed his phone call after a moment, and when he said my name, it snapped me immediately from my thoughts and back to him, in Tim's office, waiting to see what I wanted from him. In that moment, I only wanted one thing, and one thing only. Even though I knew, as I got to my feet, how potentially unhealthy this all was, but I didn't care. I was hurting, and if this was a way to combat the pain, no matter how fleeting the relief may ultimately be, I wanted relief, and if this was the way to get it, I was game.

"Scarlett?" Nicholas asked, rooting me back to the office. "You okay?"

I shook my head at him. "No."

"Who was that? In your office? The visitor."

I lowered my eyes, sighing. "My adoptive mother."

"What did she want?"

I dashed the tears out of my eyes, hoping he didn't see them. "Everything and nothing," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "Everything for nothing... I don't fucking know..."

"Anything I can do?" he asked.

I snapped my eyes back to his. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, I crossed to him then, my fingers becoming fixed upon his tie, pulling it with one hand and unbuttoning his shirt with my other hand. Seeing what I meant, Nicholas promptly shoved me down upon my stomach onto Tim's desk; it was much faster than it was the first time, to be sure, but it was exactly what we both needed, in that moment, to sustain ourselves and to block out our pain, no matter how short a time that would be.