Plot plot so much plot. And a couple of new characters that you should recognise. As ever, thanks and love to my beautiful reviewers, I am so grateful to you guys for your kind words and continuing support. Friendly reminder that I'm still available for fic challenges/suggestions/requests/prompts, if there's anything you want me to write then let me know.
Content Warning: burn descriptions, feels.
The police finally came to arrest Marceline just before dinner which was a relief. If she'd been forced to make up any more sickly sweet stories about how Ash had taken her ice skating for her birthday last year she might have puked. She was already close enough to being sick what with the combined fear and anxiety churning in her stomach and the smell of roasting beef her father had filled the apartment with in anticipation of his business associates coming later. She was trying so hard to repress the post-traumatic stress flashbacks but every time she caught a whiff of meat cooking she could feel blazing fabric fall heavily against her back; hear her younger self scream at the unimaginable agony as her skin began to melt and bubble. And she hated him harder and harder with every passing second. Hated the way he laughed over her head with Ash and clapped her too hard on her scarred shoulder. Hated the casual possessiveness and total disregard he treated her with.
She'd expected her father to maybe make a big fuss about her being led away in handcuffs. But he just stared at her with an inscrutable expression on his serious face while they read out her rights and told her she was being arrested on suspicion of criminal damage, accused of smashing up and vandalising Mo's father's corner shop. As the surprisingly gentle police officer helped her still cuffed into the waiting patrol car outside Marceline risked a glance back at the apartment block. It was early evening and still quite light. She could see Mo outlined next to his mother in the window of their living room, watching her from behind the net curtains. He risked a small wave and brief thumbs up to her but she didn't dare wave back in case anyone else was watching from her apartment windows. Instead she tried to communicate with Mo silently; to send him a look that told him she was proud he'd listened and done the right thing. Marcy knew he was watching because he wanted her to know he'd given her letter to the police. If she'd looked around she might have seen that he wasn't the only one looking at her but her eyes were glued to the shadowy figure of her friend in the window. Too busy willing him not to hate her for what she'd had to do. Distantly she was glad Mo had kept his end of the bargain even thought she'd done something pretty awful. It was the only thing she could think of to get close to the man she needed to talk to without arousing suspicion. She knew she wouldn't have long to speak to him before her Dad arranged one of his creepy lawyer friends to come rescue her and she'd probably be back home in a few hours. Better the police had all the information before she even arrived; that's why she'd sent the letter.
They booked her into the holding cells instead of taking her straight into an interview room and that's when Marcy really started to panic. The longer they waited the more time her Dad had to arrange one of his goons to come get her off the hook, less time to talk to the letter's recipient. She paced the small cell for a few minutes, panicking quietly, before deciding on a course of action.
"Hey! I need to talk to someone, like, now! Before my lawyer arrives! Like, to confess! I need to talk without my lawyer present!" she yelled through the meal slot on her cell door. She paced the length of the tiny room again muttering anxiously to herself. It was a frustratingly small room, four paces across and five paces wide. There were all kinds of graffiti chipped into the crumbling plaster of the wall and a small high window that barely let in any light far above her head. Marceline squashed her panic back down ruthlessly; give in to it now and she'd be completely incapable of speaking to anyone let alone the man she was desperately hoping had received her letter. After a few tense minutes more a harassed looking young police officer swung the door of her cell open and jerked his head to indicate she should follow him.
"Right, you're up, Abadeer. Petrikova. Whatever, come on."
She was finally lead to a small interview room where she muttered a quick prayer of thanks to whichever deity was listening because there was no lawyer there yet. Just a plump dough faced detective who didn't look much older than herself and his sour craggy featured superior who nevertheless she could have kissed with relief. Marceline didn't know how she knew but she was certain the cold eyed man frowning at her from the interview desk was the man she'd sent the letter to.
"I want to turn informant." she announced in a rush before the sallow old detective even had a chance to open his mouth. "You're Detective Inspector Earle, right? You knew my Mum, she was working with you. Simon told me. You were trying to get evidence about the family, about my Dad."
The younger man scowled hard at her, puffing up indignantly and fixing her with a watery eyed glare.
"It's Detective Chief Inspector Earle, and we are here to discuss criminal damage charges brought against you by Mr Mohammed Abid Al Omiri! Whatever family feud you have going on with your father-"
"Shut your mouth, Hope." the old detective growled. He stared at Marceline unreadably. His eyes raked her face for something, she wasn't sure what. For a moment his expression softened almost imperceptibly when he stared in her eyes and he nodded like she'd somehow passed his inspection. "So you're the little Petrikova. Yeah, I knew Claudia, she was informing for a few months before the fire. Knew her pretty damn well, well enough to be sorry for her passing. You do look just like her, kid. There's no getting away from it."
Marcy nodded, she'd heard the same thing her whole life.
"I want to inform on the bastard who killed her." she replied carefully, making sure she maintained eye contact, needing him to see that she was completely honest. If Earle thought she was working with the family and trying to pull some kind of scam then he would never trust her again. She couldn't afford not to let him see the truth in her gaze. "My uncle told me a couple of years ago before his memory started to slip that she was informing on my father before the fire. That she'd been meeting you regularly to pass on information. I want to take her place. My Uncle Simon that is, Simon Petrikov. He wasn't in the business side of the family."
"I knew Simon too, kid. I knew he always meant well." Earle replied in what probably passed for a gentle voice for him, although it was still a gravely growl.
"Sir," Hope whined, "Sir we're supposed to switch on the tape recorder! She's been arrested for criminal damage, we have to ask the interview questions!"
DCI Earle turned the full strength of his most disapproving glare onto the younger officer. He was a powerfully built man about ten years younger than Marceline's father, around the same age as her mother would have been. His bristling blonde hair was liberally peppered with streaks of white and pretty much just blended straight into the four-day shadow covering his lower face; there was no obvious break point between his hairline and his stubble. He had cold eyes that were currently glaring down the full length of his considerable nose at the cherub faced young detective who shrunk back when he met Earle's gaze. The older man rolled his shoulders thoughtfully, still scowling.
"Elmon, why don't you go fetch Miss Petrikova a glass of water, mmmm? Seems like she's got a lot of talking to do. Wouldn't want her throat getting dry." Earle said to the younger man after a moment.
Detective Hope was obviously reluctant to leave them alone but nodded and slipped from the room anyway, watching Marceline with narrowed eyes until the door closed on him.
"He doesn't trust me." she observed to Earle with a humourless snort.
"No more do I. You're a Petrikov, even sweet little Claudia was shady as fuck. Until you prove to me you're your mother's daughter and not another Hunson then don't expect me to turn my back to you even for a second, Petrikova." the old man replied with a growl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter Mo had delivered to the uniformed officers that had come to the apartment. She was unbelievably glad to see he had it, there was so much that could have gone wrong getting it to him. "So Hunson's out again. That slippery bastard. And little Baby Evil is all grown up and looking for revenge."
Marcy winced. She hated the nickname the tabloids had given her in the aftermath of the fire and her father's trial. Whichever stupid hack had decided it would sell more papers to call the famous East End gangster the Lord of Evil had also apparently thought it was appropriate to refer to his seriously injured young daughter as Baby Evil. Earle smiled humourlessly when he noticed her discomfort.
"You want to bring Hunson down, kid? I don't blame you, we all want that. But you need to bring me something I can use. Another stunt like your smash and grab today and you'll be warming a bunk in the cells in his place. There's no appetite amongst top brass for civilians to get involved in undercover work these days, anything you bring will have to be from your own initiative. You understand me? You're close to him. Bring us some solid proof, something he can't squirm out of. And don't commit any more crimes, that's unacceptable."
Marceline nodded, she'd figured she wasn't going to be offered any kind of immunity. Earle would help so long as she stayed within the law and it was up to her to dig up the dirt on Hunson without him getting suspicious. Fine, she could do that.
Earle was the only police officer Marceline would consider speaking to, the only one she could trust even a little. The police were not friendly to anyone who carried the name Petrikov and Earle had been the only one willing to talk to her mother. Hunson had thought Claudia was having an affair when in reality she'd been meeting Earle and giving him inside information about her husband and his business associates. Of course it had all been dismissed during his court case as the fantasies of a bored housewife; Claudia hadn't provided enough hard evidence. If she had Hunson would never have seen the light of day again. Marceline was determined not to fall into the same trap as her mother. She was going to get cast iron evidence and get that bastard behind bars for good this time.
"Hey, can you arrange something for me? Get someone out to the nursing home my Uncle Simon's at. Hunson's going to see him and he's going to hurt him. Can you fix something, get him taken into hospital or something? Simon's ill and he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't recognise me so much so he won't know who my father even is. I can't let him get hurt." Marcy asked after a tense moment's thought.
Earle nodded.
"I can do that. Act surprised when you visit and he's not there, you won't be informed of where he's been moved to. And for fuck's sake Petrikova, keep yourself safe too, yeah? Your mother would never have forgiven me for letting something happen to you, kid. She loved you and your brother so damn much, she made me promise to keep you safe. Do not make me break a promise to a dead woman, Petrikova."
They passed Detective Elmon Hope coming back the opposite way down the corridor as Earle walked her back to the front desk. The chubby faced man stared at her angrily and Marceline had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She instinctively disliked the young detective.
"You're free to go, Petrikova." Earle said loudly over whatever Hope had been about to say. "Looks like the Al Omiris have dropped all charges. Sorry for the inconvenience, miss."
He shook her hand and carefully palmed her a business card with an emergency contact number on it. She nodded to let him know she'd call when she had something and he handed her back her jacket and mobile. Ash was waiting by the front desk for her and completely without warning she felt an unreasonable stab of anger and distress; despite all her cool logic some irrational corner of her mind had been expecting Bonnie. Marceline pushed the redhead from her thoughts violently. She didn't allow herself even a single moment of regret; it would cripple her if she started to think about it. She was keeping the other girl alive by keeping her away from her father, she knew it in her bones. It was just that to push her away almost hurt worse than the burns had, worse than almost anything she could remember. Marcy followed Ash wordlessly outside to the waiting taxi and allowed him to press a brief kiss to her cheek for the look of the thing just in case anyone was watching. The card with Earle's number on it felt weirdly heavy against her hip when she shoved it into her pocket and she knew it had been worth smashing up Mo's father's shop for but it was a hollow kind of victory. Her face still ached from where Hunson had hit her and Ash pulled out his phone and ignored her the moment the taxi door was closed. She wished it had been Bonnie.
…
"Hey, like, we're going out, sure you don't wanna come?"
"Certain."
"Do you want me to bring you anything before we go?"
"No."
"Aren't you at least gonna put the light on?"
"No."
"Bon, come on. You can't sit in the dark being lonely and sad forever."
Bonnie just rolled over, away from Lydia and the unwelcome intrusion of light that spilled in from her open bedroom door. She knew distantly somewhere through the grey fog of misery that had settled around her that she was acting like a sulky child but she just couldn't find it in herself to care. Bonnie had always been skittish, nervous, her naturally anxious disposition had only gotten worse after her father left. Now she was numb; unfeeling for maybe the first time in her life. It was even worse than when Finn had spectacularly dumped her while she was still getting her breath back.
Her roommate said something else, probably about how she couldn't wallow in her misery for the rest of her life. Lydia was severely underestimating Bonnie's capacity for wallowing, she thought. There was no reason at all that she couldn't wallow forever. She heard the front door close; maybe Lydia had been telling her she'd see her later. Probably, she wouldn't want to keep perhaps Brad or maybe Johnny or whoever she was seeing this week waiting.
In the darkness of her room Bonnie lay and listened to the clock on the wall tick. Her thoughts circled back to Marceline whatever else she tried to focus on. She'd cracked and tried to call the other girl that morning only to discover that her number was disconnected. In desperation because she felt like she might explode if she didn't tell her one or two very important things Bonnie had left the house while Lydia was out at some fashion event and driven across to Marcy's apartment block. She'd arrived just in time to see her ex-girlfriend handcuffed and lead away into a waiting police car. So she supposed it was all true then and whatever criminal activity Marceline was mixed up in was serious. She hadn't know what else to do so she'd followed the car to the nearest police station and waited outside, hoping to corner the other girl when she came out. She'd ignored the tall blonde man who entered a few minutes later but after an hour and a bit he came back out of the building arm in arm with Marceline. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before opening the door of a taxi for her and following her inside. Bonnie wasn't sure how she managed to drive home after that because she didn't really remember it past the haze of hurt and fury that filled her like a fog. Next thing she knew she was at home in her bed again while Lydia hovered worriedly in the doorway and told her she couldn't stay there being sad forever.
Probably it was creepy to stalk Marceline like that. Really thought she'd just wanted to talk somewhere away from where her psycho father had been lurking. She hadn't mean to just follow the other girl around and stare at her from a distance. And who was that blonde man who'd picked her up from the police station? Bonnie seethed with irrational jealousy. She could hear Marcy's voice in her memory just before they'd first kissed, awkwardly stammering that she was gay. I think I have a crush on you, actually. But she certainly hadn't looked it when she was arm in arm with the handsome blonde man who'd opened the taxi door for her. And she'd mentioned an ex-boyfriend on more than one occasion. Bonnie wondered how much of what the other girl had told her was the truth. Her mind's eye couldn't help but show her his hands caressing the beautiful lines of Marcy's tattoo, skin to skin, his lips murmuring quietly into her ear, watching the way she sighed and let her eyes drift closed against the sensations. It was more than Bonnie could stand-
Something snapped and pain blossomed through Bonnie's hand. She looked down, vaguely surprised to discover that she'd picked up a pen from her desk and been bending it between her fists until it broke it in half. She'd impaled herself on the shattered plastic in the process. She should go clean the cut, she thought distantly. Perhaps. Maybe when she got up.
Very suddenly Bonnie didn't want to be alone in the dark any more. She sat up and slid onto the floor on her hands and knees still fully dressed from her earlier stalking episode and rooted around under her bed for some shoes. It was a ten minute walk to her Mum's house and when she let herself in through the back door she could heard her mother watching TV in the lounge. She didn't disturb her, just crept up the stairs to the back bedroom. It was occupied for the moment while they were between full-time care but soon enough its inhabitant would have to leave again. Most people didn't know Bonnie wasn't an only child and she was guiltily aware that she didn't usually correct people if they referred to it. But she had never forgotten that there was always someone who listened to her and never interrupted. Someone she could talk to, someone who made her feel safe in a way nobody else did. She slipped quietly into his room and came forward to give him a loving hug. She'd really missed him, hadn't seen him in far too long.
"Hello, Neddy." she whispered against her little brother's shoulder. Ned gurgled back, pleased to see her. Bonnie was the only person Ned allowed to hug him, even their Mum couldn't get as close as his big sister. Ned was severely autistic and sometimes Bonnie thought she was the only person in the whole world who really understood him. It was a sibling thing. She didn't expect anyone else to understand.
"I met someone really wonderful." she told him quietly. "I know I'm an awful lesbian cliché but I'm feeling a lot of feelings for her, warm and fuzzy feelings. I'm not gonna say it's y'know... love. Not yet. I don't want to jinx it. Not that it matters anymore. Ok, it might be love, a little. She's just unbelievable. But now she's broken up with me and I'm not allowed to see her again because her Dad's a homophobe and he's killed people and she's scared he'll hurt me. Ned, what am I supposed to do? I don't even know how to feel about it. Do I just back off and forget her? But, you have to see this girl, Ned. She's unforgettable. Or should I fight for it and try to get her back? We could hide it, see each other in secret. People do it every day and get away with it, why can't we? I'd be her secret if that's what it took, I don't care. Just don't know how to tell her so."
Ned gurgled again and petted his sister's hair. He'd always been fixated on soft things. His room was furnished with the softest fabrics and he carried an old cuddly pink dragon toy with him everywhere, rubbing the velvet of its wings when he was stressed. Bonnie had brought it back from a weekend away with her friends when she was a kid. She'd felt so guilty the whole time for going and having fun without her brother but Ned hadn't seemed to mind, not when he got his present. The way his eyes lit up when he first touched the silky velvet it was made from was worth spending most of her holiday money on it.
"I don't know what to do. I'm not brave like she is, Neddy." Bonnie continued quietly. "I really like her. I mean, honestly so much more than just 'really like'. You know? And this whole situation is completely bananas. I basically stalked her this evening. I needed to see her and I didn't know what else I could do so I followed her. She was getting into a taxi with a man and he was all over her. It made me so mad I almost crashed the car. I feel like she's making me crazy, like one minute I'm so full up with feelings I could just explode and the next I'm so numb I can barely even move. What am I gonna do, Ned? This untenable, I can't just keep going on like this."
He was still petting her hair and making his usual gurgling noises. Ned had never really learned to speak but nevertheless his sister was adept at understanding what he meant; he'd missed her and was sad she was sad. He wanted to pet her hair until she was happy again. Ned always knew how to make Bonnie smile, he was her favourite guy in the world.
"You think I should just give up on girls completely? I'll never find another girl like her, maybe I should just stop trying?" she asked him contemplatively after a while. Ned made a sort of snorting noise and she laughed out loud. "You're right, straight girls don't have to put up with shit like this. But I can't switch teams now. Boys are so icky, their breath smells terrible. No offence."
Bonnie could honestly say that she felt a thousand times better for spending time with her brother than she had since she read that terrible letter. It was only temporary; in the morning she'd have to face reality again and she just didn't feel capable of explaining it to her mother yet. She'd make an excuse about uni being stressful or something and go back to her apartment, go back to being miserably alone in her room. But just for one night she could talk to Neddy and get it all off her chest, just until morning. She snuggled up next to him on his bed and let him pet her hair some more, humming a lullaby for him in the gloom of the bedroom. Ned would be back in full time care soon enough; he was just too big to live at home all the time and he needed specialists to handle his temper tantrums. But for now she could pretend they were still little kids and she'd never known what being hurt felt like. Just kids sitting together in the glow of their night light and sharing their close bond.
In the morning when their Mum came to get Ned up for his breakfast she found him curled up fast asleep with his sister. She hadn't even heard Bonnie let herself into the house last night. With a smile she left the two of them to it, Bonnie had sounded so sad when they'd spoken on the phone the day before and her mother worried that the university were working her to death. It was sweet how close her children still were despite all their differences. She was glad they had each other.