Disclaimer:... Don't own it.
Giving up, Fi pulled herself out of bed. Finding her cigarettes and lighter, she made for the door but paused before opening it. She saw her father's guitar still sitting in the corner of the room. It couldn't hurt. Grabbing it, she made her way downstairs and onto the porch. Settling herself on the swing she lit up and took out the guitar. She didn't have anything particular in mind but sat strumming it.
If she could convince Will that she was using Dorian, she might be able to get away with working with him. Of course, that meant she'd have to start giving up information on what they were doing. After two days, though, it was the best she had thought of because there was no way she'd be able to do what she needed to with him and keep it from the company, even she wasn't that good.
Why couldn't he have let her go and just stayed out of her life? Not loving him was so easy- well, not easy, but it was manageable- when he was gone but then he'd come waltzing into her life and turn her feelings upside down. She couldn't love him, she should never have loved him in the first place. She had known it was dangerous and went ahead anyway and now she was paying the price, and it was a hefty one.
How could she love and hate someone so much at the exact same time? And why could she not control herself? She didn't have the luxury of being some silly, love sick girl and, yet, that's what she was being. She felt rather disgusted with herself. There was so much riding on her shoulders, she needed to get a hold of herself. And she would come so close but then he would smile, or call her love, or ask if she was alright, or kiss her and every wall she had managed to get up would come tumbling down. Why did he have such a hold on her?
And how could she betray Arrie like this? Her twin deserved better. She was gone because of Dorian and Fi hadn't even managed to cut off ties with him, let alone kill him. She didn't deserve to be a Priestess. But she was, and despite her mistakes and short comings and offers to be Stripped, they kept her as their Priestess. What did they see in her? Why did the company want her so badly? And why did her bloody destiny have to be so screwed up?
She had moved with her aunt to get away from all of this and instead was shoved in even deeper. And she couldn't even have him by her side! It wasn't fair. And why did she still want him so badly? He was a traitor and a murderer and if her people, her twin, meant anything to her at all, she would have executed him already! But she hadn't. There was that small seed of doubt. That tiny yet firm part of her that said he couldn't be responsible, no matter what the evidence claimed.
She needed him out of her life and mind so she could deal with things properly, so she could handle the information impartially. She needed him gone! She needed him with her! She needed it to stop hurting!
Fi glanced down, having realized she was actually playing tune and not one she knew.
Fi stared at her dinner plate, not really seeing it. Her conversation with Will had not been pleasant, successful, but not pleasant.
Flashback-
"Mr. Dysin, can we talk?"
"Certainly, Miss Phillips."
"There is a side project I'm interested in pursuing," she told him, taking a seat. "I don't think it's anything the company needs to worry about, not yet anyway. I just want to be prepared."
"Of course. Your status is still higher than most, you hardly need my permission for this. Actually, you're not even required to inform me," he answered, confused.
"I know, but… there is an aspect to it that the company won't like and well, I'd rather be honest from the start, than have my head taken off later,," she told him, only slightly joking.
"What exactly are you up to, Miss Phillips?" he asked, suspicion clear in his voice.
"I need a partner for this, but it can't be just anyone… I need someone who can actually help, give me the needed information, someone who is already… involved. Actually, he's the one who brought it to my attention."
"He," frowned Will, his eyes narrowing. "Dorian?"
"Yes."
"Fiona!"
"Calm down! Someone will hear you."
"You should have pronounced sentence on him already, and instead you want to work with him? The company might just take your head. You're already on thin ice."
"You think I don't know that?" she hissed. "But I'm not going to risk an important lead simply for the sake of revenge."
"Revenge? We're talking about justice, Fiona. Besides the company does have the right to usurp your… authority in this matter and handle it themselves."
"Again, you think I don't know that? I know our laws and ways, but you don't understand the position I am in. You have never had to be judge, jury, and executioner, I have. I have never and will never pass judgment unless I am absolutely sure and I certainly won't be bullied by pissed off Council members who are more concerned with retribution than the truth!"
"Watch yourself Miss Phillips, or do you forget you place?" he snapped.
"Do you forget yours?" she snarled, her blue hair turning a shocking white, her eyeballs going completely black. Then, in an unrecognizable accent, she continued, "I know my place, child, and you would do well to remember yours! I accept the Council's rule for the sake of peace but we both know what I have the authority to do!"
"And you would bring Armageddon on us?" he demanded, sounding torn between incredulousness and fear.
"It is tempting," she answered, not an ounce of remorse in her voice.
"The Council is not easily dethroned, as they told you at your initiation. They would make a stand and we might even win, after all that is how they gained power in the first place. Would you really risk it… Honored Priestess?"
"Perhaps I like to gamble, child?" she replied venomously.
"I see," he answered, his voice now a mix of fear and respect. "For now, Honored Priestess, I will trust your judgment… as you have trusted the Council's in the past. I am sure I can convince our… higher ups to indulge you in this."
"Good," she said, her appearance and accent returning to normal… or as normal as blue hair and facial piercings could be.
Without waiting for a reply, she strode from the room. Once the door was closed behind her, Fi set a hurried pace for her own office, ignoring Jessa's questions as she locked the door behind her. Sinking into her desk chair, she realized she was shaking. It had been a long time since Fi had lost control like that; lost control and given into who she was, to the power and curse that lived within in her. It was not a good sign.
End flashback.
Definitely not pleasant, but effective, at least.
"Fi?...Fi?...Fiona!"
"W-hat? Oh, sorry Irene, what were you saying?"
"I was asking if you're alright?"
"Yes, fine," she said, trying to smile reassuringly.
"Really?" asked Clue, "Cause mom was calling you for, like, a full minute."
"Yea," added Carey, looking concernedly at Fi's continuously shrinking frame. "And you've barely eaten anything."
"Oh," said Fi, noticing her still full plate and everyone else's almost empty one. "I'm just distracted, I guess."
Fi forced down a bite of food to appease them, despite the fact that she had absolutely no appetite.
"If you say so," said Jack, who, noticing his sister's discomfort, was trying to change the subject. "So, we were going to head to Denver tomorrow, Sis, check out that new club that opened, do some shopping maybe, you want to come?"
"Thanks, but I can't."
"Why not?" asked Molly, who'd been in a bad mood the whole dinner.
"I've already made plans," snapped Fi, responding to Molly's mood with her own.
"What plans?" demanded Molly, who wasn't even trying to hide her anger now.
"I'm doing some research with a friend," she answered vaguely, her anger, once again, rising to match Molly's.
"Great, more work," she snapped, standing up with her plate.
"Hardly, this is more of personal project," Fi answered, trying to reign in her temper.
"Right," snorted Molly, grabbing Fiona's plate as well.
"Excuse me?" said Fi, gesturing to her still full plate.
"We both know it's not like you're going to eat it anyway," snapped Molly, slight concern edging her voice.
"And what is that suppose to mean?" she demanded, getting up to follow her mother into the kitchen.
"It means that if you want to starve yourself, than fine, I won't get in the way," Molly answered, practically slamming the plates on the counter.
"I am not starving myself," said a rather incensed Fi.
"Fiona, you look like a skeleton!"
"Hardly," she snorted.
Fi knew she had lost a good bit of weight. She was stressed, which meant she had no appetite. As soon as things settled, she knew her weight would come back on, making her mother understand that, though, would be near impossible. She was just glad her mother hadn't been there to see her a month or so before she left England, then skeleton would have applied. Right now she was just a little thin, as far as she was concerned.
"Hardly?" demanded her mother. "Do you even look in the mirror anymore?"
"Mom, you are so beyond overreacting right now! Would you just calm down and stop worrying so much!"
"Stop worrying?" came Molly's floored voice from the kitchen.
"You know, I think the game's starting," said Irene, standing up.
"It's my job to worry about you," continued Molly in her rant, "especially since you refuse to worry about yourself!"
"Sounds good to me," said Ned quickly, standing up as well.
"And now you're moving out, and there's going to be no one to make sure you take care of yourself. And don't look at me like that, I saw the notebook on your bed!"
"Definitely time to watch the game, loudly," said Will, as he and the others made their way to the family room.
"Is that what this is about? You went snooping in my things and didn't like what you found?"
"It was open on the bed, I was dropping off that book I borrowed and saw it," Molly defended.
"And instead of asking me about it, you just assumed!" accused Fi.
"What was I suppose to think? You said yourself that at some point you're going to move out!"
"At some point, mom, not tomorrow! Your smothering, though, is making me wish it was tomorrow!" yelled Fi, giving in to her temper.
"And what is that suppose to mean?"
"It means you have to accept that fact that I'm not fifteen years old anymore, mom."
"I know that."
"Your actions say otherwise!"
"Well maybe if you stopped acting like a teenager, I'd stop treating you like one!"
"Don't even! I'm sorry I grew up on you, I'm sorry I have responsibilities you don't like but those are the facts. Just because you don't like the way things are right now does not mean I am not acting like kid and you know it. The one acting immature is you! I am simply trying to do my job, which you are making extremely difficult. Do you even realize that you are one of my main sources of stress?"
"What happened to you Fiona? It's like I don't even know you anymore?"
"You don't mom. I grew up I'm not the same person I was six years ago! It's not my fault you can't accept that!"
"Maybe it's because I prefer the person you were six years ago!" snapped Molly, losing the last bits of control she had on her temper.
"Well get in line!" snapped Fiona, failing to hide how much her mother's words had hurt her.
"Baby, I'm sorry," said Molly, realizing what she had said to her daughter. "I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did," said Fiona, hurt and resignation clear in her voice. "And you aren't wrong. I was a better person than, I was blessedly naive. But I grew up, and I can't change the past, mom, and whether we like it or not, we both have to accept the person I am now, because it's not changing."
"Where are you going?" called Molly.
"For a ride," Fi called back, grabbing her leather jacket and making her way to the garage.
Fi pulled her helmet on and straddled the motorcycle she had bought shortly after returning to the states. She loved riding, it was one of the few things that cleared her head. Fighting back her tears, she revved her engine, and drove off.