Until We Thaw

[Autumn Wakefield]

Prompt List

• Nobody
• Easter
• Compel
• Introduction
• Apologize
• Saint
• Lie
• Opposites
• Trouble
• Haunted

[Autumn Wakefield]

E A S T E R

Autumn was late. Not a little late, a lot late. Gareth was seething. They'd all been voluntold to do the town's big Easter celebration, and Autumn and Gareth had somehow gotten roped into helping with the Easter egg hunt. Gareth had stated plainly that it was a bad idea, and everyone had agreed, and yet someone had seen fit to put their names down for the event anyways. And on top of all of that, it was unusually warm, and he was the "only one" tall enough to wear the dreaded bunny suit.

That's right. Gareth was standing in a park bathroom, like some lost high school mascot, holding a massive furry bunny head under one arm while the other waved a phone around wildly, the tone through the speaker indicating that the number he was dialing had a mailbox that had not been set up. "Fuck, Autumn, where are you?" he hissed.



Something, somewhere, was buzzing, and Autumn sat bolt-upright. The last thing she remembered was falling onto her couch - what year was it? Her head buzzed in time with the other buzzing, and she slapped her hands around on the coffee table next to her, knocking over an ash tray in the process and sending a flurry of cigarette butts and matches everywhere.

"Shit, shit, shit," she wheezed, jerking back away from the ash cloud. The buzzing stopped as her vision came more fully into focus, the tunnel widening and giving way to full-screen reality. She coughed hoarsely, the lingering of two packs of Camel Turkish Jades and a bottle of Stoli burning her throat and causing her head to throb with the pressure as it escaped her aching chest. "Fuck, fuck," she said, but it wasn't out of frustration - it was like a tic, some sort of device she used to jog her cloudy memory of what exactly it was she was forgetting.

Sunlight came through her blinds, and she momentarily disappeared into the rays, becoming one with the specks of dust and ash as they floated, being pulled by the breeze from the broken glass. The blinds tapped against the frame. What was she forgetting? The phone buzzed again. Across from the broken window was a hole in the wall, where a .45 caliber bullet once had been lodged. Good times.

"Oh, FUCK!" she barked, seeing her months-old partner's name flashing on the display of her phone. She should have known. His ring was just like everyone else's ring on vibrate only, but Gareth's was more - more. Angry buzzing. She grabbed the first thing she could to drink, standing up and ignoring the pain in her head, and the rest of her body for that matter. She took a swig, spitting it out in surprise and coating her table and herself with spittle and hot gin.

"Gross!" she exclaimed. She stomped through her apartment, which looked more like a serial killer's den than the living abode of a successful author and police detective, dirty bare feet sticking to the tile in her bathroom floor as she flung the bottle into her too-small trash can. It was glass, of course, and broke. She probably cut her feet on the glass on her way into the shower, which was as cold as the fucking North Pole, but she didn't feel it more than any other pain she felt in her body.

She hurried through her routine - brush hair, eye drops, luminizing moisturizer so she didn't look dead, lip balm, brush teeth. Mini bottle of Smirnoff, mouthwash, Pedialyte from the fridge, car keys - baskets, baskets, where were the baskets and grass? Her brain hummed, one long stream of consciousness as she ran through her house. Keys, keys - another mini bottle - into the garage, which was hot. She opened the door of her car and pressed the clicker on her visor, squinting as the opening door blinded her with direct sunlight. She stood as still as a statue for a second, knowing that the baskets and fake grass was here somewhere, where did she - the TRUNK, that's right.

She broke several traffic laws on her way to the park, and when she pulled up, she saw one very pissed off bunny storming towards her. Fortunately for her, and very unfortunately for him, he had to keep the head on, since taking it off in front of all the kids running around would probably traumatize the younger ones that still thought the Easter bunny wasn't at all a fiction.

"Where the fuck -" he started, clapping his giant pink fuzzy pawed hands at her.

"Here," she said, thrusting a box of colourful wicker baskets into his massive cotton-candy arms. "Carry this. Put it up by the tree, I'm right behind you."

"Oh, no, Wakefield, you don't get to just show up and - "

"Auntie Autumn!"

A small blue streak whizzed past Gareth and attacked the short brunette, nearly knocking the sunglasses out of her hand. She put them on before she was rendered permanently blind by the invasive light, scooping up whatever had just nearly taken the Easter Bunny out at the knees.

"Hi Maddie! Wow, is this a new dress?" she asked, voice laden with that fake intrigue that adults always used for children under the age of eight. She looked over the child's shoulder at Gareth, making a face that plainly said to go to the motherfucking tree with the motherfucking baskets, and as much as he wanted to throw the box at her head, he complied, though it was absolutely not for her own sake.



Once the event had been mostly packed up and all of the kids were being ferried into their collective minivans and sensible SUV-crossover-types, Autumn's control over the "super fun child-loving sober police lady" finally gave out. In truth, she'd only eaten because she was trying to get the shakes from her hangover to go away, but the combination of deviled eggs that had sat in the sun for four hours and the candy that children kept thrusting into her face had been ill-advised.

Gareth was lecturing her in full swing, while she sat on the counter of the men's bathroom, the scents that lingered in such areas permeating her nose. She had the rabbit head in her lap, and fought against swinging her feet as she listened to his diatribe about responsibility and punctuality.

"I don't even know what the problem was, dude," she said finally, interrupting him as he circled back on 'reliability' for the third time. "I was late, but I made the baskets. In fact, not only did I make the baskets, but I almost won the fucking bunny-hop sack race, and that was with a raging hangover. Face it, you're just mad because you had an itinerary and I shit all over it and still came out fine."

"No, Autumn," he said, his pudgy pink mittened fists clenched up to his face as he tried to make her understand. "I'm mad because you showed up two hours late, still drunk, and the fact that you only succeeded this time just seems to lend to the idea that you can continue to do this every time, when the truth is, one of these days you're not going to 'shit all over the plan' and the plan will, in fact, shit on you," he finished, knife-handing her for emphasis.

She was silent for a long few seconds, and Gareth began to wonder if he'd been too hard on her. Her old partner hadn't even been in the ground a year, and here he was, just trying to take control of things - but she was so fucking self-destructive, this wasn't healthy. She needed therapy, or something, but could he honestly judge her? As though she could hear his thoughts, she opened her mouth, and Gareth thought maybe something profound would come out of her mouth, like maybe he'd finally gotten through that thick head of hers.

Instead, Autumn lurched forward and threw up inside the bunny head.

"Fucking unbelievable," he hissed. "I left London for this."

"Fuck London," Autumn wretched, more chocolate and egg escaping into the furry head.

[Autumn Wakefield]

I N T R O D U C T I O N

Autumn shifted uncomfortably in the car. Her head hurt. It always hurt. The windshield reflected strange dots back at her, the rain that had once been a downpour slowing to some sort of thick mist. Despite that, the windshield wiper squawked loudly as it swiped across, forcing her to wince as she reached over to turn them off before she got out of the car and ripped them off.

"It's only for an hour," her partner said, his voice holding a helpful tone to it.

"So? I get to sit there and listen to everyone talk about how their stupid ass kids wandered into the swimming pool while they were busy watching Real Housewives or how they lost their pappy to cancer or some shit. It's not relevant to me, at all," she insisted.

Gareth gripped the steering wheel so hard that the protest of the leather was audible in the quiet idling car. He would have to invest in a mouth piece if she continued this way; she tested his patience so much that he feared he might shatter his teeth for how hard he clenched his jaw at times. "I think," he said, that helpful tone replaced by one of strictly controlled irritation, "you'll find this place might actually cater to your unique problem set."

"Did you bring me to one of those stupid police wife loss groups?" she demanded.

"Woman!" he growled. That was a warning, and she knew it. She huffed as he reached across her and opened the door of his Audi.

"Right. I'll see you in an hour."

"Remember what the judge sai-"

She cut him off by slamming the car door before he could finish. That judge was a snowflake bleeding heart piece of fuck, and frankly he could kiss her ass, along with everyone else who had a hand in this bullshit. She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head to protect her from the rain, and stomped toward the building. It was being held in a high school gym, which felt wildly thrown together last minute, and inspired no confidence in her at all. As she opened the door, the smell of old gym socks and shitty grades hit her, and she rolled her eyes so hard that it made her head hurt more.



Now that the rain had stopped, Gareth got out of the car, taking a position next to it as he scrolled through his phone and read old Guild alerts. His attention was drawn momentarily to what appeared to be a couple arguing in a car parked a few spaces down, the argument culminating with a blonde getting out, telling him to 'fuck himself', and slamming the door.

"I CAN STILL YELL AT YOU WHEN THE FUCKING WINDOW IS DOWN, YOU KNOW!" the man inside the car shouted, apparently unfazed by her poor attempt to get the last word by silencing him with the door, much like Autumn had. The blonde kept walking, holding her arms up with middle fingers out to let everyone know how she felt about the situation. When she was out of earshot, the man noticed Gareth watching them, and nodded.

"Girlfriend?" Gareth asked.

"Partner," the man replied. He rolled up the window and got out of his own car. "Yours?

"Also partner," he replied. The man looked familiar, but Gareth couldn't place him.

"She's very... vocal," he observed. Thank god Autumn hadn't resorted to having public tantrums just yet.

"Job mandated therapy," he offered. "Evan."

Gareth took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Court ordered," he said in return. "Gareth."

"I knew you looked familiar," Evan said.

Gareth's expression darkened, and then his brows went up in realization. Yes, they had crossed paths before. "Right," he said slowly. "The Berlin thing."

"Yeah. Hell of a job. Anyways, I transferred here, adopted that little ball of trauma," he said, nodding towards the building, "and now I get to babysit a closeted alcoholic who runs the spectrum between manic depressive and robotic killing machine. Things are great!" he said, though it was clearly sarcasm.

"At least yours is closeted," Gareth countered. "That little gremlin has a bottle of vodka for lunch. And we have badges."

Evan whistled. "To protect and serve, eh?"

They were quiet for a while, and then Evan offered, "Mine watched her best friend commit suicide after she'd been bitten by Bacchus."

"Well," Gareth said, "when a Bacchite issues a command, it's not exactly expected people can resist. It's unfortunate that she had to see it, though."

"No, man. Not a Bacchite, Bacchus. And she broke his command. He ordered her to kill Aurora and another hunter. Instead she shot his bloodbond and then herself."

"Jesus," Gareth said. "That's fucking impressive. How?"

Evan shrugged. "Don't know. She was a lower level hunter. Nobody special, really. I've seen plenty of people far stronger and with far more notoriety hoisted by their own hubris. She was all grit.  There's a fucking shrine to her at the guildhouse. So, naturally, she did not want a new partner, least of all me, and actually tried to quit over it. They told her to get therapy or get a new job. And here we are." He waved his hands. "In this shithole." He grinned his toothy grin. "I left London for this."

Gareth actually laughed, the sound coarse in his throat. "She's human? So is mine. Kind of funny - the entire way here I listened to how therapy is for weak people, people who don't know who they are, who need to be told what to think and how to feel - and it actually kind of boggles the mind, how someone so strong could really think that holding pressure in makes them stronger, not weaker. This is a woman who can find a literal needle in a haystack, but can't fathom how putting too much air inside a balloon and making it pop relates in any way to too much bullshit inside her head and hitting that same critical mass."

"Yeah, I don't get it. I thought men were supposed to be the emotionally unavailable ones? I talk to our guild therapist like once a month." One side of the double doors to the gym banged open, and he heard loud voices. "Oh shit, that's them. Quick, go back over there. If they see us talking, they'll never agree to come back, edicts or no."



Autumn flung the car door open, falling into the seat with a loud sigh.

"It's been thirty minutes," Gareth said, not looking up from his phone.

"I got kicked out," she said. "I put my cigarette out in the coffee of the lady who told me that there was no smoking. But, I made a new friend."

"What?" he said, snapping his head up finally.

"I said, I made a new friend. She has a stupid A-name, too. Man, I thought I was fucked up. Did you know that the Guilds force hunters to go to therapy, too? Guess I'll cross that employment option off of the list," she said with a snort.

"Autumn, you put your cigarette out in someone's drink? What is your fucking problem?" he demanded. "Do you understand that youhave to do these meetings? You have to show progress? Or they will very much actually fire you?"

"Dude, calm down," she said, holding her hand up at him. "It's all going to be fine. I've got everything under control."

"NO, you D-"

A tap on the window caused Gareth to stop whatever he was about to say, and he watched as Autumn fumbled for the switch to roll hers down. On the other side, the blonde was excitedly talking to her about something. Gareth looked past them at Evan, who looked like he was in the fucking Twilight Zone. The look on his face very plainly said, 'We cannot let them be friends'.

Gareth was inclined to agree. This manic mood whiplash was going to give him grey hair; he absolutely could not deal with two of them.

[Autumn Wakefield]

N O B O D Y

  Autumn drummed her fingers on her desktop, unable to shake the feeling that she was overlooking something. Across from her, Gareth sat on his desk, the sleeves of his light blue shirt rolled up messily. His necktie had been undone and hung around the collar of his shirt, which had been loosed the top three buttons, revealing the white shirt beneath. He had the lightest signs of stubble across his angled jaw, and she watched as he clenched and unclenched it. He knew he was overlooking something, too.

"Autumn, come here," he said, holding the hand out that held the paper cup of coffee in it, two fingers extending off of it as a gesture for her.

"Why?" she demanded. She wasn't just tired, she was fucking exhausted. Her brain was hitting the edges of what she felt like would end up being a fugue state if she didn't go to sleep soon. The camera would be rolling, but it would not be recording. She didn't feel well, at all. Her eyes were hot, her throat felt like sandpaper, and every time she had a cigarette, it just burned her throat. She'd already ransacked her desk a few hours prior, looking for any goodies hidden within, but had fallen short when all she came up with were empty prescription bottles she'd never thrown away.

She also felt like she was slowly going crazy because her passive ability to locate things had been going haywire. Not that she knew what it was; it felt like an idea caught right at the end of her mind, like that anticipation before a sneeze, but the sneeze never comes. It was an unscratchable itch, and it was gnawing at her like a tick embedded deep into her subconscious. Gareth had already figured out that she had this "gift", but he hadn't even bothered to bring it up to her, because inevitably she'd just drink until she forgot he'd even told her. He knew this, because he'd already done it once. He wasn't doing it a second time.

"Just come here, come look at this," he said, his tone a little weary but patient. Autumn was suspicious, but she stood up anyways, the chair noisily scraping across the floor in the precinct. Gareth had been around her, and other people with talents in fact, long enough to know what their tells were. Autumn would repeat words to herself when hers was acting up - usually the word fuck, which for most people would sound pretty routine coming from her, but for Gareth, had a certain pattern to it that betrayed when it was Autumn being rude and inarticulate and when her gift was causing her brain to stutter. It was fitting that was the word she chose, nonetheless. And she'd been sitting at her desk, caught in that recursive 'fuck' loop for about ten minutes now. She wasn't vocalizing it, but he could see her lips moving, matching the tap of her fingers as she searched through the mess of synapses in that brain of hers for whatever it was she was recognizing.

Autumn stood next to him, and from an onlooker, it was comical. It looked more like Take Your Child to Work day than two partners observing their murder wall - graphic photos hung up with sketches from eyewitnesses, autopsy reports, etc. Bloody, sordid puzzle pieces, all telling a story. "Fuck," she whispered. There was so much gore. "It's like Jack the Ripper," she muttered.

"Mm," Gareth agreed.

They were both silent as she became rapt in the board, getting closer and looking at every photo again. She was like a bloodhound on a scent now, and he just needed to wait. Ambient noise of buzzing lights and a distant thunderstorm filled his ears, along with the occasional hiss of 'fuck' from the petite brunette. Somewhere, a fly buzzed, smacking at the window behind the cheap blinds.

"Hey - what the fuck is this?" she asked, almost startling him.

"Hm?" he said, brows perking. He set his cold coffee down and came closer, met with a report being smacked against his chest by the much shorter woman. "What's this?" He took the report. It was an eyewitness statement.

"Who interviewed this guy?"

"Uhh," he said, "It's in the report, Autumn. Why?"

"Look at his name," she said matter-of-factly, arms folded and jaw set.

"Mister.. Nemo. Outis Nemo." He furrowed his brow. Why did that sound strange to him? "Who spells Otis like that?"

"Because it isn't Otis, and it isn't his fucking name. Outis was a name that Odysseus used in Homer's works. He also told the Cyclops that his name was 'Nobody'. And Nemo is Latin for 'nobody'. Some fucking rookie cop interviewed 'Nobody Nobody' right after the eighth murder. Eyewitness my ass," she snapped. "That's our fucking guy. They literally interviewed the killer. Fuck!"

She broke away from him, taking the report back, and began to make calls. He did the same, unable to help himself from glancing over his shoulder at her as she barked information at whoever was on the receiving end. Maybe he'd make something of that mess, yet.

[Autumn Wakefield]

C O M P E L

"I can't remember the last time I was at a birthday party at a bar," Autumn confessed, still inside the car with Gareth. A noise came from his throat, and it caused her to glare at him. "I wasn't always a miserable drunk bitch," she said hotly. She ignored him protesting that he didn't say that, fighting with the seatbelt to get out of the car. Fucking piece of shit seatbelt. She never wore one unless she was with him and she always forgot and tried to jump out of the car, causing herself to get clotheslined by it every single time.

She was already walking inside Hole in the Wall when Gareth finally caught up to her - fucking hell, it's like she ran when she knew she left him in a confused silence at whatever he'd said or done wrong this time. He wondered how many people she'd gaslit into thinking they were awful just by the way she was. If he'd been a weaker personality, he could see it working - hell, if he were still in his awkward teenage years, he'd have followed at her heels and eaten every derision up. It was probably why she bothered him so little now - he'd learned to work past all that.

Just as Autumn threw the doors open, Motley Crue started playing on the speakers. Zachariah greeted her, cigarette in mouth, bottle of Jack in fist. "Autumn!" he screamed, pulling her into a one-armed hug that she awkwardly accepted. "Heeeey, you made it!"

"I did," she said, holding her hands up with a flourish. "What's up, man? There's a fuckload of people here, did you invite the whole precinct?" she asked, a little surprised at just how many people had come out. She recognized a few from NYPD but most were unfamiliar faces to her - and because she was late, a lot of them were already drunk. Well, at least most of the humans, anyways.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. He slapped a hand to his head. "Right! So, I don't know if I ever told you, but my brother is also a cop. Yeah, and his wife's a shrink! So all the big guys here are dudes I know through him. They're all SWAT," he added, as if that explained their bigness. Autumn looked at a group playing pool and made a face.

"Jesus fuck, are they giving them growth hormones?" she asked.

"Hey, what's with the - " Gareth asked, pointing at his cigarette. "Isn't that a big law for you Yanks?" he asked, referring to how nobody could smoke in any bars.

"I AM THE LAW!" Zachariah replied, doing his best Dredd impression. "But seriously, yes, it's totally illegal, and I promise I won't tell if you won't," he said, a playful tone to his voice. "Anyways, guys, welcome, enjoy yourselves. I need to go see about a girl," he added, giving Gareth a clap on the shoulder before shoving past him to go chase down a brunette bartender who did not look interested.

"Right," Gareth said. "Twenty minutes?" he prompted, looking at Autumn. That had been her initial time limit, not his - Gareth was actually far more personable with these people than she was.

"Eh," she said, holding up her hand to show him the bottle she'd taken from Zach before he'd run off. "Maybe thirty."

"I'll make the rounds. Try not to throw up in your hair," he said, and he meant it.

About an hour later, he found Autumn and several others playing a drinking game at one of the tables, a small crowd around them. In the background, Metallica's Seek and Destroy boomed, and he had to admit, it could have been a lot worse. He'd busied himself by networking with some of the SWAT guys; strangely, all variants of cats, with exception of the birthday boy's brother, and apparently one other individual who wasn't present.

He wasn't sure how it had started, honestly. One minute everyone was laughing, Autumn proclaiming that she could find anything, and the next minute, there was a tense silence as Autumn and Sinclair took jabs at eachother. He understood that not everyone could gather the context of their words, but he knew that by the expression on several faces, a few did. Strangely, it wasn't their Sinclair; Laurel, Simon's partner, had not been out tonight, instead at home with a sick child - it was her estranged ex-husband Britton, who had previously worked at RCPD before Gareth's time.

"You couldn't find shit on the bottom of your shoe, Wakefield," Britton said, smiling devlishly over the top of a short glass of whiskey.

"Bet I could," she replied. "Found your ass."

"I'm not shit!" he defended, and Gareth could see that he wasn't really offended, as he had that mock surprise look on his face. What Gareth didn't know is that Autumn and Laurel had been friends when they had begun their divorce proceedings, and Autumn had been privy to some of the shittier things Laurel had told her in confidence. And, of course, Autumn was drunk now, and had never really liked Britton to begin with, so...

"Yeah? Not what I remember," she said, raising her own old-fashioned glass to her mouth. She raised her eyebrows along with it, knowing that she'd strike a nerve, and not giving one single fuck.

"Ooh, okay, show's over," someone said, and the crowd immediately walked away, knowing that whatever happened next they didn't want to witness. Gareth didn't go though, but he did stay back just a little. He wanted to see what would happen. Admittedly, he didn't think too much. Britton wasn't known for being a hothead, even if Autumn was.

"Alright, maybe you need to find your way somewhere over there away from me," Britton said, sounding irritated but unwilling to give in.

"Sure, probably easier to find than that soul of yours," she said, beginning to stand up. She was not the least bit threatened when Britton stood with her, despite the fact that he easily towered over her. Most people did. It was nothing new. When he took her arm lightly in his grip though, that was new.

"Go home, Autumn," he snapped, holding her gaze. "Go home and forget you saw me."

He was shocked when she yanked her arm back, making a loud "PFFT" sound. She stumbled back into her chair, both from the drink and because she was putting distance between them without making it obvious. She was also laughing. "That shit doesn't work on me, demon boy," she spat. "Never has. Nice try, though. I'll definitely remember seeing you."

"Alright, time to go," Gareth said, choosing that moment to make his presence known.

"You're the boss," Autumn said, giving him a thumb's up and patting him on the arm as she walked (NOT in a straight line) to the door, saying her goodbyes as she did so. The funniest part about any of it was that if he'd just let Autumn say her bit and continue drinking, she would have gone home and wouldn't have remembered talking to him, at all. In fact, this had stopped her from going into blackout, as it would have been the next drink she'd have had that had plummeted her. Autumn didn't know that, but after being around her enough, Gareth did.

When Britton tried to leave though, Gareth put a hand out, stopping him before he passed completely. "If you ever try to compel my partner again, friend, I will kill you, and I will send you straight back to the place you seem so intent on avoiding." He didn't speak loudly, or harshly - just very matter-of-factly, and much like Britton, he didn't break eye contact when he spoke. He pulled away suddenly, giving Britton a clap on the shoulder much like Zachariah had given him previously, and the entire energy around him went from dangerous to casual.

"Good to see you, mate. Drive home safe," he said, more loudly. He spun on his heel, the briefest of exits made as he went through the door.

[Autumn Wakefield]

T R O U B L E

"How come HE gets a sword but I don't?" she demanded, gesturing to him angrily. Next to her, sisters Whitney and Roxanna buzzed, talking to themselves and to Autumn, though they hardly waited for her to answer any questions they asked, instead driving forward regardless of what she wanted. Gareth wasn't much for Fae, and these two he trusted even less than most. Honestly, anyone that could just roll Autumn over like she was nothing was someone who had more power than they showed. It made him uneasy, and he began to regret coming into the store.



She was, of course, protesting the costume he'd picked out for her. And even that was not wholly what had happened - they'd gone into the store that the Herald sisters had popped up the month of October to make some quick cash (scheming fucking Pixies is what they were, he didn't care what actual type of Fae they were - and it wasn't Pix), and he'd dragged her in after hearing what her original costume idea was.

"I'm going to be the Witcher for our company Halloween party," he explained, reaching out and snatching Autumn by the arm before she could fully sneak out the door. She hissed; her hand had been on the bar to push it open. In the background, dark retro 80's synth style mix played. "Do you have anything that won't make her look like an idiot next to me?" It was hard to hide his disdain for the Fae as he spoke, but if they heard it in his voice, they ignored it.

There were two big holidays where Gareth preferred to celebrate with the Guild, despite no longer being part of their organization. New Year's was one, and Halloween was the other. He'd heard that there would be a little revision this year - the Masquerade usually done on Halloween would be happening on New Year's, while they'd rented out Bonne Chance to do the Halloween party. It didn't keep it any less extravagant, it just changed the black-tie status. And honestly, he'd seen photos from Masquerades past, and it looked more like the Met Gala than a Halloween celebration.

In short, he took dressing up seriously. Apparently a lot of the men in the Guilds did, as Aurora later found out with Evan. Fortunately for Autumn she'd have someone to commiserate with over the open bar.

"Sure," one of the redheads said. She smiled a full row of straight white teeth, and Gareth didn't trust her even more. "She's going with you? Ciri. Obviously."

"Wait," the other one cut in. This one had darker hair, like it had been dyed recently. "Is she going with you, or with you?" she asked, hands moving as she spoke to emphasize her repetition.

"What?" he asked, gravelly voice betraying annoyance. "No, she's just - she's my partner," he clarified, but it didn't clarify anything at all given the Look the two girls exchanged.

"Okay, the first one said, wiping her hands on the butt of her jeans as she stood up. Next to her, there was a box of open donuts. "I know what we can do. Hey, you - girl trying to escape," she called. Autumn was about to be out the door again, up on her tip-toes to hold the bell on the corner of it making sure it didn't alert them of her departure. When she was spotlighted, she hissed again. "Yeah yeah, listen - how do you feel about leather?"

"I have no feelings about leather," Autumn said tersely.

"Great. Whit, grab her before she makes a break for it. I have some ideas."



And that, of course, brought them back to where they currently sat. "I get a sword and you don't because I'm the bloody Witcher, as I've told you," he said, his usual gruff voice careful not to betray his elation at being able to walk around with a plethora of weapons unbothered amidst a massive gathering. Maybe someone would give him cause to use one. It had been a long time since he'd used a sword in a fight - too long.

"Well what do I ge-EEEEHHHH-" her whining question was cut short by a loud guttural noise as Roxanna put a sneaker firmly into her back and yanked, pulling the ribbons on the corset as tight as they would go. Autumn began tapping the wall that she was pressed against, signifying she couldn't breathe.

"Well, that depends on what you're going to be," he said, the smile in his voice audible as he enjoyed hearing her being manhandled by the two girls. Maybe it would humble her a little. Naturally, he couldn't see her - they were in the dressing area, which was actually pretty nice and rather spacious. He sat in a chair against the wall, feet up on a table, arms crossed as he waited. She was in a little enclave, blocked by one of those changing curtain things. It looked more like something you'd see on the stage of a theatre. He'd seen her naked in a tub of ice that she also used to keep her vodka cold, so he couldn't imagine the need for modesty now, but...

"Sparkling water?" Whitney asked, gliding out to hand him a bottle of Perrier that came from absolutely fucking nowhere.

"OW! Did you just bite me?!" Roxy's voice snapped from behind the curtain.

"Going to be a while with that one, then?" he asked, declining the water.

"What? Oh, no," Whitney said, waving her hand and laughing. The sound of scuffling behind the curtain caused her smile to falter, and she turned and darted off.

"What is the problem?" she cried, coming back to find them - not fighting? "Wait, I thought you were beating on eachother. What happened?"

"Oh," Roxy said. "I had her pull up Youtube and watch videos while I finished doing her laces up. That sound was just her trying to walk in the shoes - it's a stacked heel, but it's still pretty high."

"So, I'm this bitch? Where's my sword?" Autumn asked, handing Roxy her phone back as she put the finishing touches on the black leather and fur outfit.

"Oh, sweetie, no," Roxy said, taking the phone and setting it on an empty chair. "Yennefer is a mage. She uses magic."

"But I don't have any magic," she snapped. "So he gets a sword and I get leather riding up my ass?" She was frustrated. She couldn't breath. The costume was hot. And honestly, the prospect of not having a sword was really pissing her off. "Can't I go as that Viking chick from that show? The Vikings show?"

"Lagertha?" Whitney asked. "Oh, honey, no," she replied, patting her shoulder. "She's about six feet tall and blonde. We could have done Daenerys if you'd have been okay with wigs, but you said no, so we had to go with someone brunette. Speaking of which, your colour will need some refresh if you want keep this look. What? I know brown dye when I see it - trust me," she said, pointing to her own hair. "Black, okay? Oh, and coloured contacts."

"What's that about contacts?" Gareth said from the other side of the curtain. "Did she tell you what her first costume idea was? She was going to get golden contacts and just say she was a werewolf," he informed them, impatiently pacing.

Roxy stopped what she was doing and jerked her head around to look at Autumn. "Is he serious?"

"No," Whitney whispered. "Autumn. People would think you were cosplaying Bella Swan after she turned into a vampire."

"Cullen," Roxy corrected her.

"Right, whatever, the point is, that was a stupid idea. I'm so glad you came to us. We'll fix you," Whitney assured her, sympathetically taking her hand. Behind the curtain, Gareth snickered, and Roxy rolled her eyes. She had something for him, too. Men. So distrusting.

"Wait," Roxy said, stopping Autumn as she opened her mouth to call to Gareth. "Here, take this. Wait until the Halloween party before you use it," she advised. She closed a small necklace into her hand that had a vial of dark liquid in it.

"What is it?" Autumn asked, opening her hand to look at it briefly before Whitney took it from her and wrapped it carefully in tissue paper to package.

"It's fairy dust," Roxy said. When Autumn rolled her eyes, Roxy laughed. "No, seriously. Listen, I know you don't care about the supernatural bullshit, but if you want to upstage your handsome counterpart out there, or at the very least, level the playing field for a night - this is it. It's just a little potion with a fairy dust kicker. Won't last more than few hours. And it's not gonna give you superpowers, so don't expect to throw around cars and shit. But, it'll make you super... hot. And..." she said.

"And?" Autumn asked, prompting her.

"Let's just say, 'Clap your hands if you believe', and my friend, you will believe," Roxy assured her. "Okay, come on. Now you can call him."

From behind the curtain, the whispering had stopped, and Autumn stuck her head out. "Are you ready to go?"

"YES!" was the emphatic reply.



"Okay, it's showtime" Chad called, rushing to the front door of his large house as the bell chimed. He, Gareth and Autumn were all going to the party together, and Autumn had gotten there early to change because she needed help with the corset and also had sworn him to secrecy about her costume. She knew he wouldn't tell Gareth because despite their friendship, they also had a rivalry and this need to one-up eachother.

Upstairs, Autumn heard him, and put the finishing touches of her costume together. She had gone all out - hair, makeup, contacts. She sprayed a final cloud of setting spray on her face, then regarded her reflection critically. Damn, she looked good. The boots gave her three inches easily - and while it still made her a dwarf next to her partner and his blonde friend, she felt like she was towering, and it gave her a little confidence.

So did the vodka tonic that sat on the bathroom counter, but who was keeping count.

She heard Gareth's voice downstairs, and took a deep breath in front of the mirror. She lifted the necklace Roxy had given her, prying the stopper out of the lid and raising it to her mouth. She paused, wondering idly if this were some Fae trick and she'd turn into a goat. In retrospect, it wouldn't be the worst thing that had happened in years. She could enjoy a simple life of eating grass, then. "Bottoms up," she said to herself, raising it to her mouth and pouring it directly down her throat. Her hand went for the vodka immediately after, chasing it. It tasted like battery acid. It felt like it, too, causing her to cough violently and double over at the sink.

She heard feet coming up the stairs, but thankfully it was only Chad, pushing into the spacious guest bathroom and putting a hand lightly at her back. Always such a gentleman, that one.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laden with concern. Oh, Chadwick.

Autumn nodded, still coughing her ass off - they were deep coughs, too, the bronchial kind. He filled her empty vodka glass with water, pressing it into her hand so she could feel it, and she took a drink, shoulders shaking as she denied herself any further coughing. "I'm good," she sputtered. "I'm good, I'm good." She breathed slowly, deeply, smoothing out the shaking breaths into steady ones. Finally, she lifted her head and looked at Chad, still crouched next to her.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Just, lime went down the wrong tube," she lied, patting her throat and shaking her head. "Really, I'm good, Chad. Is he here? I gotta put my contacts in and then we can go."

"Yeah, he's downstairs. But, you might want to skip the next drink - you've already got your contacts in," he said. He regarded her strangely for a second, hand lingering on her shoulder, but then shook his head and pulled it away.

"Oh, I'm right behind you," she assured him, ignoring the lingered contact.

She gave a final glance in the mirror, realizing that she must have put her contacts in already. She hesitated, then shot her hand out towards the little frog case that she'd gotten with her order, unscrewing one of the tops. A purple contact floating in solution looked back up at her. "Oh, fuck," she whispered. That shit she drank. She looked back in the mirror, realizing that she looked different somehow, and turned her face side to side quickly. What was it? It was like she looked more - more.

"May I present, Yennefer of Vengerberg," she heard Chad's voice say at the top of the stairs.

"I KNEW it!" Gareth said below.

She came out of the bathroom, suddenly feeling like every inch of her body was humming. She tossed aside her so-brown-it-was-black hair, flashing a brilliant smile down at her now white-haired partner. "What do you think?"

Down at the bottom of the stairs, Chad and Gareth's faces went from amazed impression to critical, and it was obvious.

"What... did you do?" Gareth said, standing up straight - he had previously been leaning casually on the banister, but now he was all business. His jaw was set, and somehow he was more intimidating in the costume than out of it. Maybe it was the combination of black leather, golden eyes, and white hair - or was it the big fucking sword?

"Nothing?" she asked, confused. Did he - could he tell she'd taken something?

He ascended the stairs as she came down, catching her on the steps and taking her face in a gloved hand. It wasn't a gentle touch though - he held her jaw, raising her chin so he could look at her eyes. He leaned in a little, causing her to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but he ignored her.

"What - did you just smell me?" she demanded. "DUDE. What is your problem?"

"Those fucking fairies," he muttered, pulling away. "What did they give you? A spell? Autumn, tell me," he insisted. He'd let go of her face, but he was all up in her personal space, and honestly, he was actually scaring her a little. She'd never seen him get angry before, and this is what she'd feel comfortable defining as angry.

"Gareth," Chad called from the bottom of the stairs, though he had his foot on the first one cautiously. He was dressed as the Dread Pirate Roberts, and it was kind of comical to see the contrast between the two - both in black, both a questionable alignment, but Chad clearly in a better headspace about all of this. "Come on, man, back up."

"They're fucking dangerous, and they gave her something, and I want to know what it was," Gareth said, speaking loudly to Chad, but still in Autumn's face.

"Get away from me," Autumn insisted. "I'll tell you, but you need to get away from me," she added.

Gareth looked at her, setting his jaw, and he almost looked like he was going to comply, but he found he couldn't pull his eyes off of her, and gritted his teeth. He knew, suddenly, what they'd given her. "Oh, those Pix bitches," he hissed. "Chad, they gave her a - "

Having absolutely never heard Gareth call women 'bitches' before in any capacity, that was the last warning bell Autumn needed. She raised her hands quickly, clapping them in his face. A purple ball of energy erupted from her hands, the force of her palms hitting and the urgency and conviction with which she wielded the wild magic a good combination for a focused blast. It temporarily blinded both she and Gareth, causing him to fall down into Chad and Autumn to slide ungracefully on her ass several steps, coming to stop with her heel dug into the carpeted staircase just above the pile of two men.

"Clap your hands if you believe, indeed," she said, blinking rapidly and holding her hands up to observe them, mouth open with amazement.

"They gave her fairy dust?" Chad exclaimed, pushing Gareth off of him. His friend scrubbed angrily at his eyes, making an affirmative grunt. He slapped his hand to his leg, falling back onto the ground. "We can't take her anywhere, now! Do you know how many people I teased about this costume?"

"Why can't we go?" she demanded, confused, a little scared, but mostly angry that Gareth had grabbed her face like she was a street urchin trying to pickpocket him. He'd put his hands on her before, but never in anger.

"Because," Gareth growled, pushing up from his knees, finally able to see. "Miss 'I Hate the Supernatural' decided to indulge on a magic potion that makes her a walking target. What's the kill time on that shit, did that Pix trash tell you, or did they just tell you it was a party favor?" he demanded, waving his hand as he tried to ignore the dancing lights. He still saw tracers from that stupid bright ball.

"What he means," Chad said, rolling his eyes, "is that you've got that je ne sais quois, but like, multiplied by a thousand. Listen, I'm good at ignoring it - I dated a Succubus for years, and he's - he's a fucking alien ignore him - but taking you to the party might be a bad idea."

"What? You literally know Succubi and Sirens," Autumn yelled, standing up and stumbling off the steps in her heels. She jabbed Chad in the chest with her pointer finger, causing him to back up a few feet into Gareth. "NO! Do you know how long it took me to get into this thing?" she asked, gesturing to the corset. "And you," she snarled, turning to Gareth. "While I realize this clearly has the opposite effect on you, might I remind you that this is ultimately your fault. YOU dragged me into the store, YOU insisted I get a different costume - all because you wanted to carry a fucking sword!" she shouted. The air around her crackled as her voice swelled with anger.

"Autumn," Chad said, holding his hand out to try and calm her.

"NO, Chad! If you can cope with demons and angels and whatever-the-fuck-else, you can deal with me being extra desirable for one night. Don't you two know girls who fucking sell love potions out of the back of their car? Fuck out of here with that shit!" she snapped, waving away their excuses. "I'm going, with or without you. One of you, or the both of you, I do not care which. Now, are we going, or am I going to have to blind you again?"

She turned on her heel, not willing to wait for their rejection, and headed outside, slamming the door behind her. Chad and Gareth exchanged a Look. "This is really trouble," Chad said, voice low. "She has no idea how to use any of that magic she's got."

"That's not what I'm worried about, friend," Gareth said honestly, brows knitted in concern. "Autumn's an addict. She's got a lot of trauma bottled up inside of her, and dust is a hell of an addictive substance." He closed his eyes. "Why couldn't I just let her go as Bella," he mumbled to himself.

"It's not your fault," Chad said, scratching at his blonde hair. "Look, we'll figure it out. We'll keep an eye on her. It'll get out of her system eventually, and we'll just... I don't know, tell her it will kill her if she uses it again. Something. We'll just have to turn up the juice a little, because man, that shit is strong."

"I know," Gareth admitted. "Fucking Fae," he spat. "I can't look at her like that," he said, squeezing his eyes in emphasis. "I'll have to stay close to you though, or else I'll out myself before I'm ready."

"No worries, man," Chad acknowledged. One Triste at the party, or in the picture at all honestly, was enough for the moment; nobody needed to know there were more out there. "And hey, if all else fails, I can use my mojo on her," he offered.

"No," Gareth said sharply, causing Chadwick to regard him curiously. "No," he repeated again more quietly, reaching for the door. "If it ever comes to that, I'll handle it. Let's just... hope it doesn't come to that."

They were interrupted as Autumn clapped her hands again and shot more purple sparks out, laughing wildly.

"Yeah," Chad said flatly. "Let's hope."

[Autumn Wakefield]

L I E

"I don't know, it's like - I can't explain it," Autumn said, hands grasping at the paper towels in the bathroom as she tried to accurately describe the fairy dust. "It's like - everything is buzzing. You, your body, your brain, your lips, the words you say, the air and energy around you..." she trailed off. "Look, you know I think supernatural shit is stupid. Like, okay Kevin we get it, you're a vampire, can you go fuck off now? But this is... I don't know..."

Aurora sat on the counter of the spacious bathroom, watching Autumn try to describe what it was like to be on fairy dust. "On", because Autumn had taken some. "I don't know, dude," she said, sucking her teeth. "I had a dream I was a shapeshifter once, did not enjoy it."

"Oh yeah?" Autumn asked. She reached into one of the pouches on her costume and pulled out a stub of black eyeliner. It had fit perfectly with her lipstick, which had delighted her. She leaned into the full length mirror, her reflection surrounding them in the lavish room, and began to re-line the rim of her eyes. She hadn't worn makeup like this in a long time. Too long, in fact. She pulled away, sort of just marveling at herself. She was beautiful, wasn't she?

"Hey," Aurora was saying, snapping her finger in Autumn's ear. "Earth to Autumn, hello? Jesus dude, does that shit even work on yourself?"

"I don't know", Autumn muttered. She glanced back at herself, a little uneasy at the idea of it, and then looked at Aurora. "I bet I can use it on you, though."

Aurora laughed. "No, please don't," she giggled. "I don't need to go back and tell Evan how we had a lesbian moment in the bathroom. Tinkerbell and Yennefer? The fucking fanfiction is being written as I speak." When Autumn advanced on her, Aurora put out one of her long legs, stopping her with a heel to the chest. She didn't kick her, she just stopped her from coming closer. "Seriously. We should go back out."

"Okay, okay," Autumn said, holding her hands up and backing away. "It's weird though, you know? Evan has been dancing with me all night, and Chad has even cut in a few times. But Gareth - he won't like, look at me. Or when he does, it's not when I can see, because I can just feel his smoldering gaze burning into the back of my head. I don't get it," she said, shrugging. "It's like this stuff has the opposite effect on him."

Aurora made a thoughtful face as they walked out of the bathroom and down the hall back towards the music. "Sometimes magic is like that. Oh!" she said suddenly, slapping Autumn on the arm. "There's a vampire that can control cats? Right," she said, mirroring Autumn's facial expression, "but so anyway, a few of the cats can still feel her magic, but it just pisses them off. I asked Evan about it once. He said it's like they're in such control of themselves that they have to fight it to maintain that control. Sounds like masculine control freak bullshit to me, honestly, but then again, I've never been mind controlled by magic," she said. As she finished her sentence, she thought of something she shouldn't have, and her expression went blank.

"Hey," Autumn said, shaking her a little. "It can happen to anyone." She knew where Aurora had gone for a second; she'd gone there a lot, too. Strangely this buzzing in her blood was preventing her from going there - and she was suddenly aware of it. "I might get some more of this stuff," she confessed. "I actually feel pretty good. Maybe you should get some, too."

"No thanks, I'll just stick to Jack Daniels. And, him, of course," she said, nodding her head at Peter Pan busting absolute moves on the dance floor. "He keeps me pretty level."

"You keep yourself level," Autumn reminded her. Aurora took her hand, then let the grip slip away as she waved with the other and disappeared into the crowd. "We all keep ourselves level," she said again, more quietly and this time only to herself. She thought about the fairy dust. It wasn't like xanax or alcohol or anything else, not that she could remember. She felt good, but she felt - she felt in control. It was hard to explain. She didn't follow Aurora back into the crowd, though, instead lingering for a moment on her own. Even with the buzzing, if she reached down far enough, she could feel it. The It, the pain, the fear, the sadness. She blinked rapidly, unfurling her mind from the recesses that she'd just dove into, forcing herself to lean back hard into the elation that the dust gave her. It felt like warmth and radiance, and again, that control.

"Hey," a low voice behind her said, breaking her drug-addled reverie. Gareth was there, amber eyes still dark as he looked at her. She didn't like the way he looked at her, honestly. It was unlike the way every other person in the room had. It was angry, tenebrous and predatory. She had never seen him look at anyone like that, and truth be told, he hadn't in a very long time. If only she knew how much control he was exercising at the moment, she'd know that anger was less a reflection of her and more things from years and years of living and experience.

"Are you still mad at me?" she demanded. "Because, if you are - "

He held a hand up. "I'm not mad," he said. He lied, because he was mad, but it wasn't at her so much as it was at her nature - and his own. Chad had been giving him shit all night about that, and more, and after he'd watched Evan do a short tango with her, he'd finally had enough and started drinking. Granted, he wasn't drunk, but Gareth didn't drink for a lot of reasons, and one of those reasons was displayed in what he'd just done - lie. He was manipulative to a fault, as were most of his kind, but he'd spent years working towards some sort of idea that he was less rogue and more paladin, and as such, worked hard not to fall back into old ways. But Autumn was a stressor for him; by far, one of the worst. It was probably her innate ability to find things that did it. She was able to find all of the things that chipped away at him - at his fears, insecurities, concerns. And now with the fairy dust drug, his desires. Repression never lead to anything good, and he knew, because he'd spent the last year getting her to open up about her own issues and let out some of the buried feelings that caused her to almost kill herself accidentally more than one occasion.

"You look mad," she retorted. She was quiet for a minute while he stared at her, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not doing this, Gareth," she said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." She pushed past him, stopping as he caught her arm.

He closed his eyes behind her, sighing. Was he really doing this? "Well, I am," he said. Yes, he guessed, he was. He tugged her gently, and she came back willingly - willingly because had it been any other way, he was sure she'd have tried to blind him again, or at least kick him with those ample heels she wore. Still didn't bring her anywhere close to his height, but at least he could see her eyes without having to look straight down, now - which he did. He had to relax just a little - Chad had given him a lecture about the difference between being off the rails and having a good time, and how he would know, and blah blah blah - and truthfully, maybe it was the drink that had been the open door he'd needed. He didn't like to drink; he didn't like who he was when he drank.

"Geralt and Yennefer," he mused, lifting his hand from her arm to tug at one of her raven curls. "It is a good costume," he admitted.

Autumn regarded him with suspicion. "Is it?" she asked, doubt laden in her voice. "Is this the fairy dust talking? Are you being captured by my beauty?" she asked, brows raising as she took a step back, her sarcasm audible.

"What? No, don't be ridiculous," he replied, throaty laughter instantly putting her at ease. "I'm just - " he sighed. "I'm sorry. For before. I really don't like Fae, and I don't like anything that's derived from them. I'm absolutely not rapt in that weak magic potion, Autumn," he assured her. He was mostly telling the truth - it was a combination of the "weak" potion (that was actually fucking strong, Evan had concluded, despite being unaffected by it) and seven whiskey sours. "Dance with me."

Autumn couldn't tell if it was a request or a command. He held his hand out to her, a sweeping bow following. "My lady Yennefer, please, allow me the pleasure of a dance," he said again, this time his lips twitching with a smile as he looked up at her.

"One dance, Gareth," she said, caving. "I mean it. You're still not out of the doghouse yet, bud."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he concurred, leading her to the floor. The DJ began to play Strobe, by Deadmau5, only it was the orchestral version - a delightful break in the booming of the bass-heavy music all night. And, perfect for the dance between the mixture of high fantasy characters on the floor.

"Did you get to use your sword yet?" Autumn asked playfully. Despite the slowness of the dance, she still kept her space from him, something that did not go unnoticed by her partner.

"Not yet," he said, "much to my disappointment. Although, there were a few times Evan almost caught the broad side of my blade straight on his backside," he confessed. He may as well be honest about that.

"What?" she choked, surprised. "Why?"

"Well," he began, taking a deep breath. How to approach this?

"Were you jealous?" she asked, the confusion hanging on her voice. "Gareth, it's me."

He sighed. How could he accurately explain the mix of emotions he felt about this? It was some part jealousy, sure - and the dust didn't help that, at all, in fact, it amplified it. It also had risen his desires, which were a perversion of the depth that he actually did care for her; mixing desire and jealousy just created more of each, and so he'd had to rely on Chadwick to cool him a little using his magic, which was this big fucking tangled mess of magic going everywhere it shouldn't. And the worst of it was that, at the very root, it was fear that drove him. Fear that the woman he'd had to actually resuscitate would become addicted to this new drug that made her feel so perfect and wonderful, and that she'd die. That this woman, his friend, who he loved (the same way he loved Chadwick, not romantically), would die, right in front of him, as so many others had - mortal and otherwise. The burden of being what he was, was a heavy one. The irony that they were standing there as Geralt and Yennefer was not lost on him, either.

He didn't know how to answer her, the whiskey and the dust making his tongue clumsy, and so he pulled her closer, holding her tightly as they danced. Autumn fell quiet in the embrace, but he could still feel the tension in the way she held him.

"Just promise me that you won't take any more of this," he said softly. "Fairy dust, pix powder, or any derivative of Fae magic." He pulled away from her, looking into her magic-tinged eyes. "I'm serious."

"Okay," she said, caught off guard by his sudden change of topic. "Okay, I won't get it any more." She said it in vain, absolutely planning to go get more, but she didn't - she didn't want to ruin the moment? She didn't know what was happening. She was mortal and stupid and young, and she had no idea that magics were dangerous when you didn't know how to use them, and had no idea about what they did to people around you, or any of the other orders of effects of them, inward or out. She just knew that she didn't want to fight anymore that night, she just wanted to ride this buzz of happiness, genuine or otherwise, a little longer, a little further.

Gareth closed his eyes, feeling like he'd had his chest crushed in. His kind knew when they were being lied to. He bent his head to kiss the top of hers, holding her tightly as they swayed, but his eyes lifted as he looked across the floor at Chadwick. The man raised his eyebrows in question, and Gareth ever so slightly shook his head to indicate a negative response. They'd already had this conversation. They'd had this conversation the entire night, actually.

It was what came next that he dreaded. He continued to hold his friend, his perfect Yennefer, it would seem. He held on to the moment in time, wishing it would last - but it could not. Slowly, he reached out with his magic, feeling Autumn's form relax under his grip.



"What if she keeps taking it, though? Gareth, this is a woman who has picked up every substance she can to fill that hole in her chest, and won't put it down unless it kills her. I know, because I've been on the phone with you after several of these occasions." He set his drink down on the bar. "Look man, I'm going to level with you. I like Autumn, I really, really do. She's a good cop when she's not drunk, and she's fucking smart. And I know you like her, too. And I know that you care about her, because I do, too," he said, taking his friend's hands. "But would you rather help her a little and keep her alive, or let her make her own bad choices and die?"

Gareth rocked back on the stool. "Mate, this is hard," he admitted. He looked across the floor where she danced between Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. He was thankful that Evan had taken babysitting duty of his enchanted friend, but at the same time, did he really have to flirt with her so much? He wanted to throw his sword at the Phoenix, but he knew absolutely nothing good would come from that fight. He shook his head, looking back at Chadwick. His best mate, confidante. His counterpart, really. While he was dark, Chad was light. While he was terse, Chad was charming. They were both deeply caring individuals, but Chad was more open-handed about it, while Gareth played very close to the chest. That was unfortunately just how they'd come up in their long time on the planet; Autumn and Gareth were much more alike than they knew, even if his wounds were long since scarred over by the passage of time.

"I know," Chadwick said, and he did, sincerely. "I do. But I just circle back to my previous question - do you help or not?" By "help", he of course meant to use their magic on her, something that he and Gareth very rarely did. It was not the way they practiced, which was one of the contributing factors of their friendship. Even Leone was manipulative in many ways, though not for nefarious reasons at all; Chadwick and Gareth, however, made a point not to interfere with the way others were, believing that it was too akin to playing God.

"I can't take away her free will," Gareth breathed, looking down at the new glass in his hand. "I can't do it."

"Can you watch her kill herself?" Chad asked him. He reached out and took the glass from his friend before it shattered under the clenching of his jaw, setting it gently on the counter and nudging it to the blonde bartender to signify that Gareth was done drinking for the night.

"Maybe I'll just ask her not to, and she'll agree," he suggested hopefully.

Chadwick snorted. "She's never agreed to anything you've ever said in her life, man. What makes you think she'll start now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that passive finding ability she has will find how important this is to me and influence her decision." When Chad rolled his eyes, Gareth hit the counter with his fist, causing the people behind them to jump. "I don't know, Chadwick. But I have to try. I have to at least give her a chance."

"Okay, okay - you do, I agree, she deserves the chance," Chad said, holding his hand up at his friend's outburst. "But what about the after?"

Gareth set his jaw, looking over his shoulder at Autumn as she and Aurora now spoke at the edge of the hall to the bathrooms. "I don't know," he said. "If I have to... to help her, I will," he finally decided.

"On all of it, or just that? Chadwick pressed. "Now's the time, bud. If you're going to reach in, you may as well try to pull out all the bad wiring and not just this one thing that bothers you."

Gareth nodded, but his agreement was a fiction. In truth, he was so worried that her addiction and trauma were tied together so tightly that she might simply just eat her service weapon the next opportunity if he were to manipulate that aspect of it. But could he do it all? Could he just take away the trauma? What if he went in and simply took the memories away from her? How would he feel if someone did it to him? How wasn't this the same as mind rape, reaching in and just rearranging someone? He had all of these questions, and no answers, and in spite of everything he knew about not holding shit like that in, he vocalized absolutely none of it to Chadwick, who was a licensed psychologist and might have actually had insight on it. But he didn't want to say anything because it exposed vulnerability - it exposed his doubt, and his weakness and shame at his abilities and the implications they held, and he knew it wasn't something to hide, but still, he hid it.

"There she is," Chadwick nodded. He looked again, and she was standing by herself, looking at the room from the edge of the hall, but not really entering back into the fray. She looked - lost, somehow. She had the euphoric glow around her of the magic, but she still looked miles away, occupied in her own head somewhere. Gareth grunted a response and left his friend, walking with a purpose toward his partner. His Yennefer.

He'd give her a chance. She deserved that.

Please, begged silently. Please, please, don't lie.

But in the end, she had lied. And in the end, so had he.

[Autumn Wakefield]

A P O L O G I Z E

"What are you going to do when you can't bring her back, man?"

Gareth heard Chad's very accurate but biting question over and over in his head as he struggled to wake Autumn up. What had she taken? There was only a single bottle of wine on the table, and her glass was tipped at the coffee table in front of the couch he'd found her on, half of the wine spilled across the table, coating it with a sticky red glaze. He let her go, frantically opening cabinets to find little orange bottles. Finally, he noticed two on the floor, and practically dove under the table to grab them, reading the labels while prone on the ground. He gave it a shake, finding the bottle was full, and couldn't understand what exactly had happened.

Nonetheless, Autumn was not waking up, and she wasn't breathing, and though she was still warm, Gareth knew he didn't have long at all. He knelt down, placing his hands on her chest, and lowered his head. He was the oldest Triste, he was the most powerful Triste. He could do this. He could do this. He had to. He willed his energy into her, pouring himself into the gesture, practically trading his heartbeat for her own.

She had fallen deep into the abyss, almost touching the ground when suddenly she was yanked back up, feeling like she was on some sort of carnival ride. She opened her eyes abruptly, coughing violently as she did so, that deep chest cough causing her to choke and wretch. Gareth grabbed her and propped her up, tipping her head immediately to the bowl he'd already grabbed so that she could throw up. It came out red, but it was wine, not blood. Thank fuck.

"Autumn," he said, his voice breaking through the pounding in her head. "Autumn, what happened? What did you take?" he demanded - but he wasn't angry, his voice was frantic. He looked worn in a way she'd never seen before. He probably looked a lot like her at the moment, if she had to guess.

"I took my sleeping pill," she said. "But it didn't kick in, so I took another and I had some wine. And I guess I forgot and I took two more and - it was an accident, Gareth, I promise. I was just going to bed, I wasn't - " She felt her eyes prick from the sting of tears and stopped. How did she convince him that she wasn't "doing" her pills, she was attempting to take them responsibly (well, let's ignore the wine for the moment). He wouldn't believe her, she knew. He'd had to do this so many times. Why would he believe her now?

"Oh, Jesus, Autumn," he breathed. He lowered his head. "You scared the fuck out of me," he confessed.

"I'm sorry," she mewed. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident. I promise, it was an accident. Come here, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling him into a hug.



In the aftermath of "the situation", Gareth had gotten Autumn to pack her bag and come to his house to stay for the night. He needed to be able to watch her and ensure that she would be okay. He had just enough juice left to get her into bed and relax her enough for her to rest, but immediately following that, he needed to feed. He waited about three hours, checking on her compulsively, until he was satisfied that his magic had done the job.

He left around eleven PM, returning at roughly midnight. He looked a great deal better, and ran a little water through his hair and on his face, just to wake himself up a little. Even if he had fed, he was still tired. He routed into his room, remembering that he'd put Autumn in there specifically, and sighed. Did he want to sleep in the guest room? He thought about it, and was actually about to go back out, but Autumn began to cough in her sleep, causing him to hurry to where she was sleeping, checking on her. When he was satisfied it was nothing, he sighed to himself.

"Guess I'll break out the pajamas," he muttered to himself. Autumn had brought a pair of pants that had little polar bears on them, and so Gareth, not one to be outdone, found a similar pair that had penguins with Santa hats on them. The fleece felt hot against his legs, and he frowned. He normally kept his room cold, but Autumn had turned off the fan when she'd gotten up to use the bathroom. The fan was essential - it gave the extra kick into the cool 69 degrees he enjoyed. He turned it back on, figuring that if nothing else, his body heat would keep her warm - even if she was all the way across the massive king sized bed from him.

She didn't know what, but something had woken her up. Her eyes popped open and she inhaled sharply; her chest still felt heavy from earlier. She had fucking died. She should feel some way about that, shouldn't she? Shouldn't she? She tried to force herself to feel something, but just ended up being mad at how stupid she'd been. She willed herself not to cry, exhaling sharply a few times until she could control her stupid tears. She looked over across the bed, eyebrows raising as she realized Gareth was there. Well, it was his bed, after all, what would she expect? She saw he had a plain white t-shirt on, and it confirmed what she'd already assumed - that was a man who slept fully dressed. Of course, this was not the case at all, but when he had company, it was simply not polite otherwise.

She laid back down, closing her eyes briefly, opening them when she felt a stirring next to her. She turned her head and realized Gareth was right next to her, but strangely, she didn't move away. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied back. "How you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a car," she laughed, voice quiet. "Gareth, I'm sorry," she said again. "You do so much for me, and I just - "

"Stop," he said, cutting her off.

Something happened then that she could not explain. It was the way he looked at her that changed, and Autumn's breath caught in her throat as Gareth put his face closer to hers. She felt the softness of the pillows under her head, the weight of the blanket in his bed on her, comfortably crushing the anxiety away, and yet still she was anxious. His last word hung in the air over her, stop, and she felt like she should say it - but she didn't want to, not entirely. She didn't know anything, in that moment, rendered inert by his gravity. She was scared, unable to stop the tremble in her body that had suddenly appeared.

Instinctively, she lowered her head a little, feeling his nose touch the bridge of hers. She lifted her head then, and in normal circumstances this is where a headbutt would have come in, but she didn't - instead, she returned the gesture, such a gentle, sweet thing.His hand moved, tracing her jaw lightly and finding strands of her hair to twine around his fingers.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, voice full of assurance, like he was coaxing a scared deer towards an apple. "I won't hurt you."

Who would do it? Who would break first? Her heart was racing. His wasn't, of course, but he was a little nervous. What if -

He didn't have time to think any further, though. Autumn leaned in, as quick as a mongoose, catching his mouth with her own. The suddenness of it actually caught him off guard, and for a second, she was in control - but no, that wouldn't do. He kissed her back fiercely, hand leaving her face and moving to her side where it rested at her hip. He felt her moving towards him.

"I don't think - " he said, but it didn't matter. Autumn freed herself from the blanket she'd somehow wound herself in, and crawled to him, mounting him effortlessly. She glanced down at his pajama pants, looking back at him with a brow raised. He was satisfied on some level that she'd taken notice, and smug that he knew that his were better - but again, it didn't matter. None of it mattered, because she cut him off, flipping the breaker in the circuit box of his brain briefly by her gesture.

"Shut up," she whispered. She leaned down, kissing him again, and felt his chest swell with breath. She could feel the heat in the room rising - weird, but, maybe it was hormones. Nonetheless, she continued, hands on either side of him, pinning him down. She gasped suddenly when he sat up and grabbed her roughly at the waist. The room went topsy-turvy for a moment, and then she was back on the bed again, pressed into the pillows with a weight on her.

Gareth looked at her intensely, studied her in fact. Her eyes were lidded, lips parted slightly, and cheeks flushed. She looked alive, at least, which was a far cry from how he'd found her twelve hours prior. He realized that it wasn't desire for her he felt, though -  it was something more pure. Love. Not love that lead to children and trips to the zoo, but love of a friend. A comrade, sister or brother in arms. Someone that you would die for.

"Do you feel anything?" he asked her, wondering what she'd say. He expected her to make a lewd joke about what she felt, and knew that despite having no deep affection for Autumn, she was beautiful, he did consider her attractive, and he was, at the end of the day, a man.

"Well," she said, tongue flicking out to lick her lips for a moment as she thought. She debated on saying that she felt him trying to waste time until his little Gareth went away, but she thought better of it. It was the way he looked at her, sitting up there, straddling her. He was sitting all the way up, but when she hesitated in her answer, he rocked forward, and she saw his elbows on the bed in her peripherals.

"Autumn," he said softly. "Can you answer me? Honestly, now. Do you feel anything in this moment?"

It was the way he looked at her. It struck something inside of her, something buried. Ulf. Fuck, she missed him so much that her stomach burned at the thought of it. She grit her teeth, willing all of the feeling away, forcing herself to the closet of her mind where she lived in comfortable, empty nothingness, devoid of emotion or feeling of any kind. When she looked at him, her eyes were no longer lit; they were dull, as they often were.

"No," she said, voice almost inaudible. "No. I don't feel anything at all." Her words were almost hollow, and Gareth lowered his head a moment, knowing that she'd buried it. They were quiet a moment longer, and she spoke again. "You know, you had me going for a second, but, and as weird as this sounds, I'm just not... into you."

Gareth climbed off of her as she spoke, sitting on the bed as she pulled herself over to where he was, kneeling by his side. "Does that make sense? Like, obviously I find you attractive. I'd have to be blind not to. And if you took me right now, I would give you the ride of your life," she assured him, causing him to laugh.

"Oh, really?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Really," she affirmed. "But I'm just not... it's not like that. I did realize something, though," she confessed. "Circle of trust?"

"Of course, Autumn, always," he said, turning his body so he could see her directly instead of turning his head like a fucking owl. 'Circle of Trust' was what one of them said before they said something deeply honest, and usually controversial in some way. It was a statement that meant that whatever was said in that moment would be kept secret forever; after death, after the stars burned out in the sky. Forever.

"I love you," she whispered.

"You - "

"No, shut up, not like that. Look, I'd let you dick me down, but I don't want to have your kids. I don't want to be your wife. I don't want a long, happy life with you. But I want to be with you. I want you with me. I want you to be happy, and I want to see you meet someone who makes you happy. But that person isn't me," she finished.

"That's true, you absolutely do not make me happy," he laughed, causing her to slap him on the leg. "Autumn, it's okay, I know what you mean. It's Platonic Love. And in my opinion, it's a deeper, more meaningful connection than romantic love, anyways."

"Connection," she echoed. She felt a bubble of fear well up in her chest. "The last person I was connected to had the back of his head explode five feet from me," she said, her words like a mallet, battering the mood in their onslaught.

"Autumn,", he said, sympathy in his voice. "Do you think everyone you connect with is going to die?"

"Eventually, yes, of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "We're not long for this world at all, we're just specks in the universe," she added, her nihilism shining through. "But if you mean, do I think that everything I love will be violently taken from me... then also yes." She was quiet after that, and there was a long moment of silence as she digested what she'd just said. She'd said it without thinking, but it was true. It was true and it was time to admit it. If she said it out loud, if she admitted it, it was real. And now that fear that she'd buried deep inside of her was out. It was exposed, bare, and tangible; it may as well have been standing before them, looking down on them with hunger to complete death's design.

Gareth couldn't believe what he was hearing. He made a mental note to tell Chad that he'd found a better method for dealing with patients, but in the moment, he only shook his head at her. Reaching up, he placed his hand on her face again, and he smiled as she leaned into it a little. He felt the heat from her cheeks still, and it warmed his palm further. She shuddered suddenly, still aware of that fear standing in the room now, naked and real, and Gareth felt a pang in his chest. He had never been able to get so much out of her before, and this - the way she perceived her doubts and insecurities and bad thoughts - it was heavy shit.

"I will never leave you," he assured her. "I don't care how violent the fight is. I don't care how many obstacles there are. You are my friend, my partner - my companion. You are safe with me, and I'm not leaving." He spoke slowly, but clearly, and directly to her. "Do you understand me, Autumn? I'm not leaving," he repeated again.

Autumn said nothing, merely nodding, a movement he felt on his hand. He reached out with his other arm, dropping his hand to her shoulder, and pulled her in for a hug. He held her so tightly he thought he might break a rib, but she didn't resist, instead squeezing him back as hard as she could (which wasn't much; she was still weak from before).

"Please don't leave," she whispered into his chest. She said it over and over and over again, and he found himself gently rocking her, whispering that he wouldn't, he wouldn't.

[Autumn Wakefield]

H A U N T E D

The problem with dying multiple times was that, eventually, it caught up with you. The other problem was that Autumn herself, for all of her personal growth, still neglected to communicate any of this to Gareth. She wasn't defeated so easily, though - he wasn't her only outlet. Just like she wouldn't stay dead, she also wouldn't stay idle. She was having lunch with one of her favourite alcoholics, a man who often aided her in cases over the years in exchange for this or that - although lately, he'd just been interested in getting some of her Xanax, which, ironically, had been the thing that had killed her the last time.

"So, you know a lot about a lot," she said to him, between bites of a massive BLT.

"You look like a fucking rabbit," the man said, gesturing with his beer to the lettuce sticking out of her mouth. He took a sip of that same beer before setting it down on the table, pointedly not on the coaster that the bar provided. "And yeah, I do." Lucas had realized the first time he'd met Autumn that she was different - like he was. She'd found him in a back alley ODing and called a bus in, then visited him in the hospital after while he was recovering. In fact, she'd been the only person to visit him. When he asked how she even knew how to find him, she had just shrugged and said she was good at finding shit. From there, a relationship had been formed - one of convenience. He knew things, and she knew how to find things, and for exchanges of goods came his services. Hold evidence here, touch a guy there - it was easy, and fast money.

She ignored his barb, spitting the excess lettuce on the plate as her only response. "Have you ever died?"

Lucas sat back in his chair, hand to the stubble on his chin. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Once or twice. Why? Have you?" he countered.

"Yeah," she said flatly. She set her sandwich down, trading it out for a beer of her own. She was off duty, and she'd taken a cab to the bar, so she was free to drink at will, and she obliged. "That's the fucking problem." She sighed, sitting back into her own chair with a jerking motion that caused one of the legs to come up for a moment. She looked like she was going to say something, but took a long drink instead. When she was finished, she held the bottle on her leg, the contents low enough not to be disturbed much by the bouncing her foot was doing, telegraphing her nerves. "I think... I think something is wrong with me," she confessed.

His response was laughter, though not too much. "Wakefield, I could write a fucking novel about the shit that is wrong with you," he informed her. "You need to be more specific." He glanced past her to the bar, raising his empty glass to signify he wanted another. A red-headed waitress came over that looked about fifteen, taking their plates. She held the tray out for Lucas to take his glass off of it, simultaneously handing Autumn a new bottle.

"Don't worry, asshole, I didn't touch it," she said hotly. She gave him a sarcastic smile when he flicked a twenty at her like it was a cigarette butt, letting it bounce off her shoulder and get caught in her long hair. "Piece of - " she muttered, walking away. Autumn didn't hear the rest, but she was confident she could fill in the blanks.

"I see you're popular everywhere you go," she joked.

"Oh, you know it," he said, raising his glass to her. "Finish your story."

"Yeah, okay, so I've been seeing shit," she said, just dumping it out there on the table for him. "I've been having these really abstract, violent dreams, which, while they kind of come with the territory and all that, are - I don't know, different somehow. Worse, if that's even fuckin' possible. And when I say seeing shit, I mean like, shadow shit in my peripheries. Like, I'll be talking to my partner in the office, and I swear to fucking God dude, there's someone standing just out of my view. And I'll turn, and there's nothing there."

"It sounds like you're just fucking paranoid," Lucas said unhelpfully. The truth was that it was a lot worse than that, but he didn't really want to be the one to tell her. It was way too much effort to explain it all, and honestly, he didn't owe her that. He did, however, pull out his phone and text her a number. "But in case you aren't, and let's say that maybe there is some penance you're paying for having been a cock tease for death one too many times..." He let her phone notification go off, and put his own back into the pocket of his coat. "I think that guy might have answers."

"Yeah?" she said, raising her brows. She was surprised he'd actually volunteer a contact. She honestly figured he'd just give her some basic rundown of how badly she was fucked, supposing he knew at all about this, which it seemed he did, and let her go about her business. "Okay. Okay, thanks. Here, I got something for you," she said, reaching down into her bag. She set a white paper bag on the table, the Walgreen's logo emblazoned across its front. "From the pharmacy straight to you," she said. "Never touched it. Can't speak for the technicians, but personally, my hands were never on anything except the bag, so, you know. Wear a glove or whatever you do."

"Of course," Lucas said, already snatching it with a hand that was, in fact, gloved. "As always, pleasure doing business with you, Wakefield. Though, I will say, whatever this shit is, it must be pretty bad for you to reach out," he admitted, watching her as she stood up and put her jacket on.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pounding the rest of her beer. No reason to let it go to waste just because lunch ended ahead of schedule.

"I figure, you'd have found this fellow eventually. You have a way."

"Yeah well. I might have a way, but what I don't have is fucking time. See you around," she called, already walking away from him.

Once outside the bar, she dialed the number he'd given her, waiting impatiently in the cold. She had no idea what to expect. Maybe it would be the John Cena hotline and she'd get deafened by music and those damn horns. It rang a few times, and just when she was about to start rehearsing what was sure to be an awkward voicemail, someone picked up the phone.

"Hi, um. I was given this number by someone who - oh man, I really didn't think this through," she sighed.

The other end was quiet for a minute, and then he finally spoke. "Take your time," was all he said. His voice was smooth, so much contrast to Gareth's gruff tone. She liked it, instantly - not because it didn't sound like Gareth, though. She didn't know why she did, actually. She felt her cheeks redden as her brain recited all manner of stupid things in the background, and tried again.

"I, uh.. I think I came back wrong," was all she could manage.

"Wrong how?" he asked. "Be honest. I can't help you if you lie."

What was it with these dudes always thinking she was coming out of the gate lying? I mean, she did, but still, calling her out ahead of time was just rude. "I've gone under five, six times, maybe? And I'm seeing shit. People just out of my field of vision. Well, not people, but something." She paused. "This is stupid. I'm sorry I bothered you. Just, uh, forget I called, I guess."

"Wait," he said. "Wait." When he was satisfied she was waiting and had calmed down a little, he spoke again. "Are you free later? This is, surprisingly, right up my alley."

"Yeah, I got nothin' on my schedule," she said, tongue clumsy with anxiousness. That was actually 100% a fucking lie, but she'd wipe her schedule if it meant getting this problem gone, pronto.

"Okay," he said. "The Excelsior Hotel. Do you know it?"

"Dude, I'm not going to a hotel with you," she said, laughing.

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it. But, they have a bar, and trust me, you'll want a drink. Also, the place is warded to fuck, so I think you'll find a little peace there."

"OH," she said stupidly. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why was she like this? "Okay, yeah, I know it. I mean, I know of it, but - you know what, I'll figure it out. Eight?"

"Nine works better for me," he said. "When you get to the front desk, tell them you're meeting Frederick Volos; they'll know where to seat you."

"Okay. Okay, that's - that's great. It's a date. Wait, I mean it's not a date, it's - I'll see you at nine," she said. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Frederick laughed. "It's fine, it's fine. Oh, what was your name?"

"Autumn," she said, looking at her reflection in a storefront. "Autumn Wakefield."

"Okay, Autumn," he said. "I'll see you at nine. Don't be late," he advised.

She wasn't sure if that was a warning or a request. She spun around on the sidewalk, having gone at least a block while on the phone like a fucking Roomba wandering around, and began to head back the way she came. "I won't. I promise. See you then." And that was it. She put her phone in her pocket, making a face at nobody in particular.



"So what do you know about this Volos guy?" she asked Chadwick, stretching out on the couch in his sitting room. Yeah, his house had a sitting room, which she was told was different from the living room. The only difference she saw was older furniture and no TV, but okay. Just wealthy people things, she guessed.

"I - ooh, Volos?" Chad repeated, making a face.

"What? What's the face? What do you know?" she asked, sitting up. "Tell me," she pressed. "You're my doctor so you have to," she added.

"Okay, so, no, that's not how that works, and trust me I am painfully aware of why you chose to come into my care," he informed her, standing up and walking to the large window that overlooked a garden beyond. "I'll admit, it was a clever way of getting things past Gareth, but that doesn't mean I'll tell you to go behind his back in other areas." He clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders rising and falling as he heaved a deep sigh. Autumn was by far one of the strangest, most complicated humans he'd ever met - and every time he saw her, she'd just complicated her life more.

"So do you know him or not? Am I going to see a serial killer? Chad!" she snapped, slapping the couch to get his attention. "Come on!"

He glanced over at her. "Could you not beat up my couch, please? It's old." Old was right - he'd stolen it from Versailles an incredibly long time ago, and he was rather fond of it. When she held her hands up, showing him she was stopping, he sighed again, and turned to face her, folding his arms as he did so. "He's not a serial killer," he said finally. What he was, to Chad's recollection, was something worse, but he felt telling her that might just encourage her. He tried for a different option.

"The Volos family is a line of gypsies," he explained, and Autumn tilted her head a little. "Yeah, it's complex. But - listen, they're powerful, they deal in magics that I don't particularly care to fuck with, and - and listen to me very carefully, Autumn - the only thing Gareth hates more than Fae are Gypsies. I mean it. Whatever you're doing, you haven't run it by him, because if you had you wouldn't be here."

"Oookay," she said slowly.

"So my advice, as both your doctor and your friend, who has your best interests at heart in both of these things, is that you do not go. Where are you even supposed to meet him?" Chad asked. Autumn couldn't tell if he was being helpful there, or prying.

"Just a bar," she said, fudging the truth a little. She'd learned that he could tell when she was outright lying, and so she'd adjusted her methods. Apparently it worked, because he just rolled his eyes in response. Of course a bar, she knew he'd think. And, she was right, because that's exactly what he had thought.

"Why are you even seeing this guy, anyways?" he asked, crossing the room to pick up the glass of water he'd set by the old ass desk that Autumn noticed he also didn't use.

"That's my business," she said defensively. When Chad gave her a Look, she rolled her eyes. "Maybe I just want some dick, dude!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "It doesn't matter, I just figured you knew everyone and, clearly you do, so, I have my answer. Not a serial killer, you urge me not to go."

"Autumn!" he exclaimed, not necessarily shocked by her outburst but - still, really? "Why don't you just talk to Gareth about whatever is bothering you enough to want to talk to a Volos gypsy? Did you consider that?"

"I'm not gonna talk to Gareth about this, and if you keep at it with the mystery, I'm not gonna talk to you much more, either," she said, her voice betraying her irritation. She stood up, grabbing her bag from the floor. If she stayed around here much longer, she'd be late for her meeting.

"Well, as your friend, I'm telling you, take it to him first. Leave the gypsy out of the equation." He followed her into the foyer, because, as it seemed, she was ready to go. He put his hand on the door as she opened it, looking down at her as she turned to him.

"I'll take that under advisement," she chirped. "See ya, Chad! I'll text you and let you know I'm not dead - unless I do die. Again," she added, shrugging and making a face.

Chad closed the door, and as soon as he'd done so, went for his phone. He knew he couldn't tell Gareth about any of it, because she'd found the loophole to their friendships and had weaponized it, but that didn't mean he couldn't make plans with him and ask Autumn where she was loudly if she did happen to call or text for any reason, right?



Autumn approached the Excelsior just as snow began to fall, dusting everything around her, including her, in what looked like a sparkling sugar coating. Sure, it was pretty, but she hated being cold, and so she enjoyed absolutely none of it. She also didn't enjoy that feeling like someone was watching her, and turned her head quickly, thinking that someone was getting in her personal space only for nobody to be there. Like lightning, she saw a flicker of something shadowy just out of the corner of her eye, and whipped around fully, skirt lifting a little as she inadvertently did an ungraceful twirl. That's right, she'd worn a dress. She shuddered, and it wasn't the cold this time. She was so bothered by the most recent sighting that she didn't even really take in the splendor that the interior of the hotel boasted, approaching the counter as she rudely snapped her coat to get the flakes off of it.

"Yes, ma'am," the drop dead gorgeous blonde behind the counter sang.

"Uh, I'm here to meet someone? Frederick Volos?" Autumn felt like a lost child.

"Oh, of course! Miss Wakefield, we've been expecting you. Here, let me take your coat," she purred, stepping from behind the desk. She snapped her long fingers and a uniformed man appeared out of fucking nowhere to take it from her. Autumn handed it to him dumbly, still a little overwhelmed. "If you'll come with me?" she said, holding her hand out to usher Autumn to the bar. Autumn followed her, still unable to really grasp her surroundings. She felt a little disoriented, and shook her head as they walked, trying to kick the dizzy, pressing feeling she felt on her forehead.

"I understand your first time here can be a little off-putting," the woman said, resting her hand gently on Autumn's shoulder. "It's the wards. Don't worry, you're perfectly safe here." She smiled again, and something about her told Autumn that she was completely sincere. "My name is Clio. If you need anything while you're here, please, don't hesitate. Okay?" she asked, catching Autumn's gaze to ensure she understood her.

"Yeah, okay. Clio, got it. Thanks," she said. She felt somehow both lightheaded and made of lead at the same time. Clio gestured to the bar, pointing to a man who sat at the end and telling her that was who she was meeting - and then she was gone. Autumn swallowed, feeling like she'd eaten a hundred Popeye's biscuits rather suddenly. She was nervous, and incredibly out of sorts. She pushed on despite that, telling herself that if she'd died a few times, going to sit at a bar and discuss it wasn't really shit.

She smoothed the black velvet of her skirt, glancing around at how other people were dressed. She'd Googled the hotel and found it was expensive as fuck, and so she'd thrown on something nice (that Gareth had picked out for the after-party of a wedding they'd been invited to, actually), and had been concerned that her simple LBD would be too much, but maybe not? She watched a woman idly scratching at her tattooed calf, red-bottomed shoe highly visible as the heel grated up and down her leg. She saw silk, satin, pearls, diamonds... No, she wasn't overdressed at all. In fact, she was fucking under-dressed.

All this thought process had occupied her walk to the bar, which she had finally hit proximity of. He turned on his seat when she'd hit about the ten foot mark, standing to greet her formally. Fuck, but he was a giant. He was only really a hair taller than Gareth, and probably a little shorter than Chad, but still - Autumn was 5'4, so to her, everything was a giant. "Frederick?" she squeaked.

Frederick hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't expected that. He'd clocked her as soon as she'd come in, thanks to Clio breezing by to tell him that his companion had arrived. And - damn. That was all, just damn. Sadly, he could see the shadowy stain on her as she moved, and he realized that she had been lying about something - how many times she'd died. She'd said five or six times, but by his estimation, that number was closer to eight, if not on the mark. And she was mortal. How was she even still functioning? Fortunately for Autumn, he'd pulled it together by the time she'd actually gotten over to him, and felt confident that he wouldn't slip up and say something stupid.

"And you must be Autumn," he said, holding out his hand. He shook hers, surprised that her shake was so firm, and made a mental note. "You look lovely," he complimented, as was customary. She thanked him, and he picked his drink up, nodding to a table. "Let's sit down," he said. He paused for a moment, seeming to fixate on her.

"What?" she asked. She looked around quickly, then back to him. She didn't see any immediate threats (which, LOL), and thus was puzzled at his sudden stutter. "What, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just uh - " he laughed a little. "You have beautiful eyes." What the fuck is wrong with you, he asked himself.

"My eye- oh. OH. Thank you," she said, unsure of how to take the compliment. Actually, she was unsure how to take most compliments, so this wasn't really any different. Still, when he turned to go to the table, she felt her cheeks warm a little. What the fuck is wrong with you, she chastised herself.

When they'd sat down and she'd gotten her drink and the small talk was over - and it had been the probing kind of small talk, where she tried to suss out whether or not he was going to murder her and wear her skin for a suit, and he stumbled over simple questions because he was, for the first time in a long time, actually a little taken with someone - it was time to get down to business. Frederick placed his hands on the table, and Autumn noticed his watch, inwardly telling herself that nobody would know if her earrings were from Icing.

"So, Autumn, can you start at the beginning? What I mean is, the first time you died," he said. He watched her take a shaky breath, and a long swig of her drink, and then she began.