SR2 again, bit further down the Samedi and Brotherhood questlines, but not too far. That's more of a staging point, though. Enjoy.

I've had a shit week, V typed into her phone. A shit couple of weeks, preceded by a shit month, preceded by a handful of shitty years. Go ahead and ignore this, but I'm getting a fucking drink at the place down the street from my place and if you want one too it'll be my treat.

It was a shot in the dark, but she didn't care, even if a lecture came with it.

After a few days of recovering from being higher than the Empire State Building and having that spill over into the shit with the Brotherhood, she needed to clear her head. Or at least go back to the few drugs she'd been familiar with. Good old booze and nicotine.

She lit a cigarette at the bar, and tried not to recall the way things had swum in her vision. The small elongated space that kept on stretching and snapping back. How Sunshine had sharpened his machete and become this thing that the General kept at bay. This creature worth fearing.

It had been too fucking close. It had been their game to win with her head that close to being served up pretty for the General, but she'd slithered out of it somehow. Got her ass out of that rolling hotbox, and tripped her way back to headquarters where only Johnny had been able to get her still long enough to begin the process of sleeping it off.

She should've waited longer before meeting Carlos after that. Put herself in a better state of mind. It'd felt good at the time to imagine Maero's reaction, but after? It'd left her unsatisfied, Carlos conflicted, and no closer to figuring out any of their next moves.

Carlos had sworn up and down that he would pick it up from there, that he could do this, but...some part of her still wasn't sure that he should. That any of this was worth getting his hands dirty for.

There was no easy answer to that.

So, she decided to leave it for tomorrow. With that waiting for her, drinking herself stupid seemed like an excellent option. Inviting Troy, not so much, but she'd wanted to. Wanted him to call her an idiot in person instead of waiting for him to toss it out casually over their next clandestine call.

And it didn't take five shots of their nastiest stuff for her to admit that. No, it took three cigarettes and five attempts at the same message on her phone before she said, "Fuck it" and sent what she had. He hadn't responded and she didn't expect him to respond, but when she finished downing her second shot she felt her phone vibrate.

Sure you should be drinking right now?

After a shitstorm like before? No, she shot back, but it seems to be working okay so far.

She set her glass down and waited for his response. It didn't take long. Anything's a great idea once the third shot's down.

Her eyes narrowed, but she groaned when she realized exactly what he was doing over text. He would. Oh, he would. History could back her up on this and then some. If you've got any better ideas I'll at least try to hear you out.

Sure about that?

"Yeah, because I've been fucking full of them," V muttered. Go ahead and hit me.

Head outside in ten?

Part of her third shot nearly went all over the bar. The bartender gave her a look, but she waved him off and sent a quick reply. The rest of the shot went down for luck, and she tried not to think too much after that.

To his credit, Troy didn't leave her fidgeting outside of the bar for long. Only the dedicated smokers hung around the outside to fight with the freak cold front, so she picked a spot under a nearby street lamp and tried not to give in to the urge to light up herself. She rubbed her hands together to keep the weather from getting to her, and nearly bumped into him when she refused to stop pacing.

"Geez, way to announce yourself," she threw out, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He checked her over, and she knew she wasn't wearing the right things. Just a jacket and jeans, but at least it wasn't blazing red or purple. "Cold?"

She eyed his navy blue scarf with envy. "No."

He was already starting to unwrap it from around his neck, and she froze as he tossed it around hers without a thought, giving one of the ends a simple flip over her shoulder. "Better?"

Her pinched face wasn't going to help her lie this time. "A bit."

"Good," he said, trying not to smile. "Let me walk you home."

"Ah. The drinking binge is over?"

"Yep."

"Fine," she said, sighing dramatically before stepping around him. "Way to kill the party."

"Isn't that what I do?" he joked. "Bring it down?"

"I thought you 'kept it reasonable'. Killing it seems to be a hell of a lot more your thing now, what with the colors you're flying."

He let her keep the lead so she didn't get to see his face, but she knew he caught the jab. His change in tone almost made her regret it. "There are easier ways to say I have a stick up my ass."

"Sure, Chief. All work, no play. Business as usual. I'm sure you've heard it all by now." V turned on her heel to keep an eye on him, and the flat look he gave her wasn't surprising. "Unless you've got a few new ones. I'd love to hear them."

"So you don't want to talk about it." That wiped the grin off of her face. "Guess not."

"I barely remember half of it, but I can improvise. Possibly tell you what happened when I thought it'd be a better idea to hijack a moped than an actual four-door car."

"Was it the General?"

She turned around and pulled the scarf closer to her. "Might've been. White suit, pimped out limo? The guy must live and breathe loa dust twenty-four seven, because I don't even think sixty percent of the air in there was oxygen."

"They dragged you in there off of the street?"

"Yeah, simple as that. Kind of embarrassing, but I'm not feeling too broken up about it. Guys tried to put a bullet in my head and failed. How the hell do you miss that when I'm falling over in my seat?" she snickered.

"You're lucky."

She turned back to Troy and didn't miss the way his jaw was clenched. "Lucky, or just some dumbass who keeps on failing to get caught?" The comment didn't get a response. "You can say both any time now."

"Why? You keep on pulling off the same dumb shit over and over again, so I don't know why I should bother."

"Ouch, Troy. Trying to make that hurt?"

"No." He pursed his lips and looked away. "Just wondering how things are going to be spun this time. How the leader of the Saints is down to her fourth or fifth life out of nine, and the media's going to have a heyday."

"That many? That's pretty fucking generous."

"Well, I am being generous."

"Because...?"

"I've seen over a dozen headlines and fielded over a dozen questions about whether you're dead, alive, or faking it. It's getting old."

She didn't break her stride as she dodged a couple scattered people on the sidewalk. "What is? Wondering?"

"Something like that."

"You want me to send a note next time? Have someone send it with a lovely fruit basket?"

"And not a singing telegram?" He was starting to walk faster and she sped up to stay ahead. "Jesus, V. I don't get why you have to fucking kid around like that."

"Why not? I'm not dead, just pissed off. No real reason for you to be, though."

He frowned. "No?"

"Why? You don't owe me anything."

"No." He stopped and she was impressed. Not a single flinch. "I don't."

"So, why?"

"Sometimes I don't know," he admitted. "Others, it's a bit more straightforward. Old friends are friends even if a few of them would rather point a gun at my head than talk."

"Old friends?"

"Yeah, friends."

The word stung, and she wasn't sure what to do with the feelings behind it. "Even Gat?"

"Even Gat." The corner of his mouth curved up. "Don't tell him that, though. I don't think he'd appreciate the sentiment."

"You've got some fucking nerve, you know that?"

"To say that out loud? Or to say that to you?" She didn't answer, and he dropped his eyes. "I know. Boy, do I fucking know."

"And yet you still walked up to me. Talked to me. Called me," she stated, walking closer with each word. "I shouldn't trust half the shit coming out of your mouth, but here we are. Playing at...whatever the hell this is."

"Now you see my problem?" He looked up, and she tried not to turn away.

"This?"

"No, more like-"

"Or me?" He shut his mouth and her nails went into her palms. "Ooh, it would be me, wouldn't it?"

"Who should be holding the gun to my head? Yeah, you should." He stepped even closer and brushed her hair aside, but most of it fell back into place. "For someone who's earned the chance and then some I'm surprised you haven't taken it."

Comebacks ran through her head, some angry, a whole hell of a lot of them bitter, but she couldn't say them out loud. Tried, but couldn't get any of the words out of her mouth. "Are you telling me that you wanted me to?"

If she hadn't been so close she doubted she would've even heard him. "No. ...But I wouldn't have blamed you."

"Well, shit. Guess I fucked up there," she spat. "Been doing a lot of that lately."

"Everyone does. They don't always own up to it, though."

She turned on her heel and left, trying to ignore the way the light caught his eyes. It didn't take long for him to catch up, however, his strides working to match hers.

His height kept him in line with her, so her little burst of speed did jack and shit to separate them. She kept it up for a good five minutes before letting her pettiness fizzle out. What replaced it wasn't as straightforward and it left her sounding almost as unsure as she felt.

"I'm trying." She cleared her throat and tried to pull some of that bitterness back. "It helps if you don't make a shit-ton of mistakes to begin with."

"Sure, but that's what we do. Make mistakes and try to fix them."

V glanced at him. "We?"

"We."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes, but didn't miss the pang that came with that word.

When her apartment came into view, she wasn't sure what to say.

This wasn't hanging up, her making an ass of herself on TV, or the end of some accidental meeting. This was on her, and he hadn't left yet. Sure he could've driven her. Just picked her up and dropped her off, but he didn't.

He'd wanted to talk, just as much as her, and when she'd ripped part of the band aid off he'd been unprepared for it, but remained. Running was easy, she'd tried, but this wasn't supposed to be.

But maybe that was why he'd stayed after all. Maybe he was sick of running too.

"Want to come in? I can make you some coffee." It wasn't a loaded question. Or maybe it was.

He stared at her, studying her closely, but didn't brush her off. Her confusion must've shown, because he shifted on his feet so that his attention was more on the door than her. "You actually get a machine that works?"

"Yep. It was high on the priority list."

"And it's not strong enough to eat the paint off of a car?"

She crossed her arms. "Shit, Chief, thought that was the only way you took it."

"Only on Mondays, but you can only do so much for those." He smiled and gestured towards her place. "Ladies first, then."

She wasn't a lady. Never had been, never would be. The way her heartbeat picked up at the idea of him walking across that threshold with her told her as much, and she fished out her keys without a word.

The shitty lock resisted more than usual, as if sensing her intent, and once they were inside she couldn't force it back into place fast enough. When he heard it engage he turned to her with a question, something about her place, no doubt. Small talk. To help put her at ease.

That was him, cautious, careful, and this was her, she noted, shoving him against the wall. Jumping in blindly without a single look back.

When she kissed him she didn't temper it. Her chapped lips pressed against his hard enough to sting, and his hands clamped down around her arms to keep her in place. It'd been years since she'd been this close to him, but she still remembered the smell of his cologne. Of his fucking cigarettes. It surrounded her, like him, and she didn't want to withdraw.

She was breathing hard when they came up for air, and Troy waited only a beat before kissing her back. It didn't have any of the force hers did, but it didn't need to. His tongue slid along her lips then between them, and she sighed as his fingers ducked under her jacket. They were warm on her back as they trailed along and under her shirt, making her shiver.

His coat and gloves were tugged off one by one, leaving a pile on the floor as she yanked his shirt up and over his head. Riding a desk had made him soft, taking away some of the edge that had kept her ass alive on more than one occasion, and gray was starting to touch his temples. The five year stretch had changed many things, but it hit her more then. That separation between what she knew and what she knew now.

The tattoo on his forearm was still there, however. Her hand ran down it, taking in its fading lines, and the corner of her mouth turned up. "Some things never change, eh?"

He ran a thumb over her cheek, the soft touch almost delicate. "Guess not."

She hooked his beltloops and pulled him away from the wall, nearly stumbling over her coffee table when her lips refused to leave his. She forced him down onto the couch, straddling his hips as she loosened the scarf, and soon her jacket and shirt joined his. She didn't even bother to unclasp her bra; just pulled it up and threw it somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, because with his hands all over her, all she wanted in that moment was to get rid of it.

He traced the edges of scars he was unfamiliar with, barely ghosting over them, and his eyes flicked towards hers when he touched part of one on her lower back.

V lifted her arm and showed him one that ran along her ribs. "That's a fun one too."

It almost tickled when he followed her, and she skirted another on the back of her upper arm. Similar spots were scattered all over her body, and she helped him find them as he kept searching, moving his hands with hers.

Her throat grew dry as he lingered, but he didn't ask. Only handled her gently until her patience ran out, cutting off his exploration with a kiss.

"Don't." Her voice was rough, and caught in her throat at the fond look in his eyes. "Not now."

He dragged her jeans down as she hovered over him, and when they hit the floor she went for his belt, making short work of it in spite of the way his mouth teased at her. His tongue threw her balance off, however, and when he moved her underwear to the side she knew she wouldn't be able to regain it.

She tugged hard at his hair, but each motion only made his fingers go deeper. His palm rubbed against her when his thumb wasn't, slow and steady, and she rocked with him until she could hear nothing but her heart pounding in her ears. The same maddening motion, over and over left her shaking in his lap, and she pulled away to shove his pants down his hips. He wasn't the only one that could tease, and she made sure to remind him of that.

He pulled her back up once his grip on her arms began to waver, and both fumbled at the condom he'd stolen from her pocket. Then eased him inside her, even though she knew she was more than ready.

It wasn't exactly the same after so long, but when he touched her – his hips moving in time with hers – it didn't have to be. And when her name slipped out between heavy breaths she felt it. Tried her hardest not to, but did. She kissed him harder after that. Rode him until the hurt faded to a dull ache.

"You shouldn't have followed me," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. "Shouldn't have."

"Too late for any of that, eh?"

He pushed her back onto the cushions and she didn't have a chance to give him an answer.

He didn't follow her into the shower.

She knew that expression. He'd wanted space to think, and with the way her head was spinning she'd wanted some too. It wasn't long. Just enough to ease some of the tension settling in her body.

V opened the door and didn't hear a thing. Only the twisting of the handle and the creak of the hinges.

She padded across the empty bedroom to the living room, dripping everywhere, and didn't think about the water soaking into the carpet. Only stood there long enough to get a chill, then locked the door tight.