[Private RP] Date Night

[Miss Conception]

As incompetent at reading and interpreting emotion as Bev was, the hurt on Casey's face was as plain as her toast and she instantly regretted bringing up what was clearly a sensitive subject. Despite Casey's assertion that she shouldn't feel bad about prying into her personal life, Bev hung her head and fiddled absentmindedly with the knife, driving the sharpened point into the calloused tip of her left index finger. To her relief, she felt a twinge of pain, and stopped before she accidentally drew blood. With a quiet sigh, she stared down into her plate, suddenly not as hungry as she had been before. She knew what Casey was going through; it was the worst agony she'd ever endured, and she wouldn't wish it upon her worst enemy.

"I'm... sorry. I lost a siblin' too, long time ago... ain't easy. I didn't mean ta pry." Grabbing her fork, she poked ruefully at her fruit salad and frowned as she thought. "Listen, Casey, I know this ain't what you wanna hear, but... this place ain't safe, as much as ya want it ta be. Those guys are gonna come back fer ya, an' ya know it. We gotta go somewhere safer while we figure out what the hell is goin' on."

Casey's attempts to make small talk were all but ignored in lieu of Bev's decision to discuss more pressing concerns. She'd been worried about Casey's security since the previous night, but had been too exhausted at the time to do anything about it. Bev already had some relocation ideas floating around in her head, but she was open to Casey's suggestions. The important thing was to get Casey out of harm's way. Everything else could wait until later.

[Slick Southpaw]

Casey’s eyes softened for a moment, hearing Bev’s stammered apology that rang with unspoken, but genuine sympathy. Guilt washed over the doctor, but she remained resolute in her decision to stick to the story. The Charlie she knew and loved dearly was dead, lost to her many years ago. Instead, a bitter and enraged woman who used her addiction to fuel her exploits landed her at the top of one of the rising star gangs in Aekea. The woman might look like her, and might be her twin, but as far as Casey was concerned, they were not sisters, even though she still hoped against hope that a tiny fragment, that tiny spark of joy in life still existed within the darkness of her soul.

Her self-depreciating thoughts and self-condemnation over keeping Charlie a secret from Bev were soon dispelled by the woman’s suggestion. To leave because thugs were getting slightly brighter? As if!

She knew Bev meant well, but it did not bode well for the doctor to have her companion think she was incapable of handling a threat on her own. Even worse; to abandon a place she finally began to call home that meant security and safety for others! Quivering from the tip of her tail to her messed up red hair, she stood up as her green eyes hardened like shards of glass. She had to make Bev understand.

“Where do you suggest I go? I’ve been jumped in the street with attempts for information. And you know what? I took care of it myself. This place is my home. It’s not just a home, it’s been a sanctuary for injured civilians and police. What do I tell them? I just can’t abandon a community I’ve been working with!”

She stamped her foot angrily, balling her fists in frustration, though her cute factor seemed to take an edge off the seriousness in her voice.

“I…can’t. I can’t leave. I have others to consider, not just myself. Even though I left my reports on Andrea's desk to file for inquiries and they never seemed to make it through the system..." Casey paused, waving her mechanical arm airily, as if that would explain things.

"It's probably floating somewhere out there, probably wherever my case reports seem to drift when time is of the essence for approvals or when I'm looking into contaminated evidence. At any rate, I've learned to fend for myself a long time ago. I had to.”

In a much softer and quieter tone, she added, the tenseness deflating from her slim figure bit by bit,

“If you do not feel safe here and want to leave, I understand. But I am not going...you'd have to drag me from here if you want me to go elsewhere.”

Quietly she sat back down, glancing stubbornly at her food.

[Miss Conception]

Bev returned Casey's stubbornness with just as much of her own, her honest expression of grief for her friend's loss dissolving into a bitter, guarded scowl. Slamming her fork onto the table, her food remained completely untouched as she listened to Casey's outburst, her eyes fixed on the shoddily repaired window as she counted backward from ten. She had a tendency to fly off the handle during arguments she cared so passionately about, and she was determined not to do something she'd regret. Although she was taken aback by Casey's vehement response, she understood why her request had evoked such animosity. Even so, understanding was not synonymous with agreement, and she still felt that Casey's reasons for wanting to stay were misguided.

Balling her right hand into a tight fist, Bev glanced up to meet Casey in the eyes, her features hard and unyielding against the redhead's verbal assault. Her tone was low when she finally spoke, and had she been able to stand, she would have. "Yeah? Is bein' attacked in yer own home yer idea of takin' care of yerself? I won't force ya ta leave, but lemme tell ya somethin', Doc. I don't care how noble ya think ya are by stayin', but did ya ever stop ta think that there are people here who care about ya? What happens when ya can't fend off one of those thugs, huh? What then? These folks don't have a doctor, that's what. And how do ya think they'll feel if somethin' happens to ya because ya stayed here, knowin' full well that ya might be attacked at any given second? Terrible. Is that what ya want?"

Bev's harsh, ragged voice had been steadily increasing in volume, and by the time she'd finished ranting she was just shy of yelling. Breathing heavily, she shook her head and spread her fingers out on the table before pushing herself upright. Catching herself on the edge of the table to keep herself from tripping, she looked at Casey, her intimidating countenance returning to her with the advantage of height. There was a moment of silence before her demeanor softened, but only slightly. "Thanks for everythin' you've done fer me. Really. But I ain't gonna sit here like a goddamn bullseye waitin' to be shot at. There's somethin' goin' on out there that's bigger than both of us, and I'm gonna figure out what it is before anythin' else happens."

Bev wasn't stupid. Until quite recently, she'd been working for the police department; she knew about the abnormal surge of gang activity that had been plaguing the city. Cases had been becoming stranger and stranger by the week, and if Widow was wrapped up in whatever plots were forming, Bev could not allow them to progress any further. Especially not if Casey's safety was at risk. Although she didn't relish the thought of leaving her friend's side, she was no good to anybody holed up in a house waiting for gangsters to attack so that she could shoo them away. Casey clearly didn't want to take her advice, and judging by her attitude, didn't want her around at all. Bev couldn't blame her. She had seen with her own two eyes what Casey was capable of, and while she still had her reservations, she was going to have to deal with the fact that she couldn't be around to protect the doctor all the time. If Casey decided against her better judgement to stay where she was, she wasn't going to have Bev around to keep her safe. Not as long as Widow was prowling around and aware of Casey's whereabouts.

"Soon as my clothes are dry, I'll be outta yer hair."

[Slick Southpaw]

Casey’s face became hard and stony as Bev’s comments washed over her, ignoring the pangs of guilt that slipped through the cracks. She had made her decision, and that was final. Nothing would convince her else-wise. If she was killed in action, she wanted it to be on nobody’s head but her own streak of stubbornness. It didn't even register to the frustrated doctor that Bev had mentioned that people cared about her; Casey was that detached from the notion of actual friendships that her primary concern was whether or not she'd be able to help people or not.

A soft, but frantic knock echoed dimly between the two hard-headed women. “Doc Casey!” The voice called out, sounding extremely strained and weary. “Please come out, Doc Casey, it’s very important.” The doctor immediately sat up straight and wordlessly left the table; she recognized the voice as Mrs. Johnston’s. There was a definite tremor in there that hadn’t been there when she practically tackled the doctor in an effort to find out more about her son.

Before Bev could react, much less warn her that it could be a trap or an ambush, Casey strode out the door, yanking it shut immediately behind her. Her eyes widened as she saw the rest of the inhabitants on the floor as her, surrounding her with grim and dark faces. Poor Mrs. Johnston, however, was saturated in blood, hands dark with redness and an unmistakable blood spatter sprayed across her cute little apron that Casey recognized as her favorite one.

“What…what happened?” She grabbed Mrs. Johnston by the shoulders, gently. The tiny woman’s eyes grew hard as she brusquely shoved the stricken doctor’s hands. In a swift movement, she attempted to deck Casey in the face. Surprise took Casey by more than anything as she slammed against the sturdy door, blood running down her split lips.

“YOU HAPPENED, THAT’S WHAT!” The housewife practically exploded. Another man stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. “If you haven’t noticed, doc, we practically had a terrorist attack here. This is the second time this has happened since you moved in here…”
Casey glanced at the walls down the hallway. Several of the walls were scored with bullet ricochets. She gasped when she saw that one pierced through the Johnstons’ door.
“That’s right, Doc.” Mrs. Johnston stepped forward again after tearing herself free from some of the rest of the residents who hoped to calm her down. She yanked Casey by the shirt, bringing her down to her eye level. The redhead was too shocked and horrified to bother resisting; her green eyes meeting Mrs. Johnston’s dark brown ones as they glared angrily back at her.

“Your liddle fortress killed my husband. I hope you’re proud that you kept safe at the expense of our lives. First my son—yes, I heard the shouts, I heard that they want something from you and that you catching up to my Danny boy was what killed him. Hell, even with your sister—“

“I DIDN’T KNOW, OKAY?” Casey yelled, tears beginning to work themselves free after the repugnance of what had happened began to fade; only to be replaced by self-loathing and waves of regret. Instead, Mrs. Johnston smacked Casey’s bruised face, causing the newly healed skin to break open again.

“You should never have come here. I thought you were a blessing. You are nothing but a curse here. I…I want you to move out as soon as you can. Be grateful I didn’t set a deadline, that much I will give you. As your landlady, I’m telling you that you’re not welcome here anymore, except to retrieve your things and leave for good. “

With that, Casey was shoved back into the wall as the rest of the crowd dispersed. Some glanced at her with hatred, others with regret and sadness, leaving the stunned doctor to slide down to the floor.

No, no, no, this can’t be happening…not again. They're vultures, every last one of them. They're content with me healing their wounds and ails until something goes wrong. Then I'm nothing more than a pest...but I've killed someone...indirectly...but Mr. Johnston didn't deserve to be killed so I could stay safe. So that I could keep Bev safe. I can't do anything right, it seems.

Casey rubbed the side of her face so she could see enough to fumble with the doorknob, entering back into the house far more meekly and quietly than when she left. Salty hot tears burned her cuts on her face, but she didn’t care. Nothing compared to the pain she was feeling inside.
Wrapping herself in one of the quilts on the couch, she sat there, shivering violently as if she was terribly cold, tears and blood dripping off her face. She didn’t care anymore. She had thought the cat and mouse game had ceased after G-Corp.

Charlie was a gangster, but she shared an uncanny brilliance that Casey also displayed, even before the implants were put in. Much to Casey’s dismay, Charlie used it for the art of manipulation and plots to go higher up the gang chain. As much as each sister loathed the other for their chosen paths in life, both sought to drive the other towards each other. For Casey, it meant becoming a doctor and working for the city, where she was able to assist in putting gang members behind bars and sometimes convincing other members to revoke their ways. For Charlie, it meant isolating and driving her sister away from the chosen joys in life-not her job, but people she helped. It was a brilliant cruel move. Casey had long begun establishing networks of trust and feeling a sense of community when Charlie would come in and tear it down in an effort to convince Casey that the only way the hurtful cycle would stop is if Casey just showed her loyalty to the gang. Casey’s doctor position would give the gang a far different part of intel, not to mention Casey’s unique abilities would be an asset to the gang. Neither of the sisters would admit how much they missed each other, how much they wanted to be back together—no that was far too simple and instead, each went their own way at the cost of lives and emotions, and relationships in an attempt to convince the other to come back on her terms.

Casey wrapped herself tightly in the blankets, staring at the ground in dismay as she pressed into the couch, hoping it would absorb her self-loathing. In a soft voice, she spoke aloud. Not to anyone in particular, but her usual manner of voicing her thoughts as she dabbed at her face. Casey's shoulders slumped, looking like an exact picture of utter defeat, shattered and broken, an incarnation of self loathing and regret.

“I suppose I have been far too selfish in thinking I could make a difference in the community and helping people. I seem to bring along as much destruction that seems to outweigh any good I do. I…guess I have no choice but to leave.”

[Miss Conception]

"Tch, you're the most selfless person I know. Ain't yer fault they can't see that."

Leaning casually with her back against the doorframe that separated the kitchen from the living room, Bev glanced over her shoulder at the redheaded cyborg, her hazel eyes brimming with concern. Upon hearing a knock on the door, she'd sprung to her feet behind Casey and hobbled over to the doorway to eavesdrop like the overbearing watchdog she was. Despite the voices being muffled by Casey's reinforced walls, she'd managed to piece together the gist of the conversation, and as badly as she wanted to chase down that fat little housewife and give her a taste of her own medicine, she refrained. Of all the scenarios she'd been anticipated, this had not been one of them. She had been banking on the hope that the residents of the building appreciated Casey more than they let on, but apparently, her hope had been misplaced. Ingrates, she growled to herself, crossing her arms dutifully across her chest. Control of her left arm was returning to her more rapidly now that she'd begun to use it; with any luck, she wouldn't need as much physical therapy to get it functioning to its full capacity this time around.

Sighing softly, Bev pushed away from the door frame and limped over to Casey, teetering to a halt just in front of the couch. The doctor had taken care of her, and now it was her turn to take care of the doctor. Recalling that the bandages were stashed somewhere in one of the drawers below the couch, she mimicked Casey's earlier actions and leaned over, opening drawer after drawer until she found what she was looking for. Producing some antiseptic wipes and a clean, sterile washcloth, she grimaced as she straightened herself into an upright position, irritated that it took so much more effort to get up than it did to stoop down. With her left hand, she reached out and grabbed Casey's chin with surprising gentleness, tilting her head so that she had better access to the girl's newly opened wounds. Examining Casey's face in close, meticulous detail, she dabbed gingerly at her cuts with her right hand and spoke objectively as she worked.

"I'm not gonna let you get yerself killed 'cause you think you owe these people somethin'. Nobody said it's yer duty to heal the world, Casey." The edge that marked her tone during their previous argument had vanished completely, giving way to a soft, stern inflection as she concentrated on patching Casey up. She wasn't a doctor by any means, but she'd been in enough fights to know how to clean up after one. Their eyes met as Bev lightly grazed Casey's lip with the washcloth. "Ya don't have ta leave forever, y'know. Just long enough ta sort this mess out. Ya can always come back when yer sure ya aren't puttin' anyone in danger, yerself included, okay?"

Once she finished dressing Casey's wounds, she wiped up any excess blood with the washcloth and set it aside before fishing around in another drawer for a fresh set of bandages. A bit stiffly, she raised her left arm to wrap the bandage snugly around Casey's head, trying not to be too obvious about her injured shoulder. Progress was slow, but apparent. Pleased with her work, Bev returned the medical equipment to where it belonged and gave Casey some space, figuring she probably wasn't in the best frame of mind after what had transpired. She simply wanted her to know that she was there for her if she needed anything. Bev was aware that she had pushed her luck by bringing up Casey's sister and then suggesting that they leave, but her statement stood true regardless. She wasn't going to let Casey destroy herself. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and although Bev wouldn't be caught dead saying 'I told you so,' she was glad that Casey had seen the light. It was unfortunate that it had to happen the way it did, but the deed was done.

"They won't think ta look for ya back at my place, 'least not right away. We can stay there 'till I figure out somethin' a bit more permanent."

[Slick Southpaw]

Still wrapped up in her blanket, Casey fought to keep the tears from pouring out as Bev tended to her cuts. It wasn’t the scrapes or the sting of the solution that cleaned her face that bothered her, but rather, an overwhelming sense of shame and guilt at what had happened. Her actions were indirectly responsible for an innocent man’s death. It felt even worse than when she scared herself blasting the gangsters away, erasing them from the face of Gaia.

However, the streaming consciousness of self-loathing was interrupted by the sudden sensation of touch of warm fingers as Bev adjusted the doctor’s head to get a better look at her injuries. It was all very strange, feeling the tension just melt away like that. It was just a gentle touch, nothing more, but the comfort it gave her…it was difficult to place. She flushed unconsciously as Bev’s words rang in her mind stubbornly.

Nobody said it was your duty to heal the world.

Well that was true. But she wasn’t trying to save the world, much less heal it. She just wanted to help make this portion of the city a little bit less gritty and depressing. Even then, those efforts seemed to be just rewarded with a fireball of rejection and pain. Casey wondered if she made the place worse by being here. At any rate, it was clear she was not wanted in this building, despite the help and assistance she had given the residents. It seems that fear often overpowered hope, and she was wrong to think that people here would overlook it. But none of that mattered. Bev was touching her and comforting her and making sure she was okay. It gave her an inexplicable warm fuzzy feeling coming to this conclusion and she didn’t know what to make of it. Something just felt right---

Thoughts were lost with the washcloth pressed against her bloodied lips and Casey found herself looking slightly cross-eyed as she tried to sneak a peek at Bev’s hazel eyes without the former policewoman noticing. There was little need to make that strain, a suddenly she felt the full appreciation of the beauty of the scarred woman’s kind eyes and gruff, but soft manner of speaking. Toughness that hid away a sensitive soul, and a callous look on life to keep loved ones at safe were virtues that Casey felt she saw within Bev’s face as she found herself gazing intensely upon the woman as her will to keep tears in check slipped away by her latent feelings taking priority over the need to try and attempt to look strong and unyielding.

Then, Bev stepped away, telling her that she could come and live with her as a temporary measure. She was being offered a safe haven, and Casey couldn’t find the words of gratitude to express herself adequately. Instead, as tears rolled down her face, she lurched forward, hugging Bev tight at the hips, and repeating with a muffled voice over and over again,

“Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou…I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.” The doctor looked up, her eyes large and glistening as she radiated simple thanks from her face.

[Miss Conception]

"No need. Ya already have."

Attempting to lighten the mood while simultaneously hiding her embarrassment, Bev offered Casey a reassuring smile, ruffling her hair fondly in hopes of quelling the girl's tears. She hated to see anyone cry; she always ended up making a fool of herself as she fumbled stupidly for the right words. Yet, it was different with Casey. Everything was different with Casey. She wanted so badly to ease her friend's suffering and to put a smile on her cheerful, beautiful face. Casey was the best person Bev knew, and she deserved better than the hand she'd been dealt. She was the one shred of goodness that remained in a world that had otherwise been burned to ash. Even Charlie, Bev's oldest and most trusted friend, had lied to her and turned down a dark, irredeemable path. Hell, she'd nearly died trying to follow him.

More than anything, Bev believed that Casey was too pure to lie or betray her. Even when the truth was more painful than the blissful delusion of reality, she counted on Casey to give her the facts, and to give them to her straight. Casey was the kind of person she liked to pretend she didn't need, but deep down, did. Even so, she was completely unprepared for the cyborg's hug, and for a moment, she simply stood there, stunned, her arms at her sides as she tried to figure out what to do with them. Eventually, she decided that now as not the time to shut Casey out. No, Casey needed her. That's what Michael had been trying to tell her. She needed to continue moving forward so that she could provide a shoulder for people like Casey to lean on. Bev's existence didn't mean much on its own, but Casey gave her a purpose. Casey brought a light to her darkness; a bright, radiant light that was capable of doing real, tangible good in the world. That light was what Bev needed to protect.

Blinking, Bev snapped herself out of her thoughts and gently nudged Casey into a sitting position, letting her hand rest lightly on her shoulder, her thumb tracing small, involuntary circles into the doctor's arm. "C'mon, now. We'll eat our breakfasts like normal, civilized people, gather what we need, and go." Offering her hand to help Casey to her feet, she ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that told her she was leaving herself open, exposed, and vulnerable to inevitable attack. It happened every time she bared her soul to someone. She'd done it with Charlie, and sure enough, she'd had her heart crushed into a million tiny pieces and nearly drove herself to her own demise because of it. She couldn't let that happen again. She tried to convince herself that it wouldn't happen with Casey, but she could never be sure. Everything just felt so... right with her, and she didn't know if she could handle that kind of heartbreak again.

[Slick Southpaw]

Casey sniffed, rubbing the palm of her metallic hand against her waterlogged eyes as she glanced at Bev’s outstretched hand. I can’t believe it, this is really happening
The doctor was surprised; she expected to be shoved away in embarrassment, being chided, shut out.

Not warmth.

Not the comforting touch of someone who sounded like they gave a damn about her aside from what she was able to perform, medically speaking. Confused feelings washed over Casey, a mixture of extreme happiness and guilt. She didn’t know why she felt so happy, so secure with Bev’s comments. Or that the gentle rubbing on her shoulder felt like a lifeline; drawing her out of her secure little shell she had built around herself to keep from feeling the agony of splitting up between her and Charlie at bay.

She was being offered a home, a temporary sanctuary, and here she was, keeping secrets at bay. Bev deserved better. Casey felt terrible, torn between her loyalty to her sister and to wanting to get closer to this person that was filling the awful, aching void that Charlie had created within her. The very thought terrified her to her core.
Casey softly clasped her human hand around Bev’s calloused one, allowing herself to be tugged up. She squeezed the former sergeant’s hand gently while placing her mechanical hand on top.

“Wait…” She started, her eyes glistening as she forced herself to look into Bev’s hazel eyes.

Dare she tell the full truth?

What was the worst could happen?

Aside from rejection, abandonment, fear and disgust. Nothing she wasn’t used to. Deep down, Casey had a most reluctant feeling that hearing it from Bev would make things feel even worse. What would Charlie do? How would she react? Charlie was always able to ruin her works because she knew how her twin functioned; keeping to herself while helping others, refusing to rely on anyone by herself. Maybe it was time to stop playing by what she usually did, and try something else. She was so exhausted, so tired of watching her efforts collapse around her, seeing what Charlie would do in an effort to drive her to gang loyalty. No, she already went off her usual mode by going to a regular repair shop instead of back to G-Corp. She was tired of being kicked around. Maybe it was time to fight back, to stand up to her big sis. Maybe Bev could help her, even…if she didn’t push her away from distrust and loathing, that is.

Her green eyes looked like twin pools of liquid glass as she struggled to piece the words together. How was she even going to start this? She didn’t know the first thing about confiding to other people. There never was a need to-not with Charlie around. But now, there was no Charlie for her to talk to. There was nobody. Just her and her lifeless machinery, going about their daily business, being acknowledged only when there needed to be some kind of assistance. But she had to try…even if she was pushed away, at least…at least the burden could be finally aired. And it was such a heavy burden to bear. Her marred face beamed both her hope…but also tainted by fear, fear that this was the wrong choice that she was making a mistake.

“C-can you keep a secret…?”

[Miss Conception]

Bev hesitated when Casey snared her hand between both of her own, feeling a sudden, unwelcome wariness develop in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a sensation she could accurately place, but she was certain it had to do with Casey's tone. There was something in her voice, a specific kind of strain that gave Bev a momentary pause. She could see it in her face, too. Glancing briefly at their intertwined hands while she summoned the courage to meet Casey in the eyes, Bev sucked in a deep breath and, after what felt like an eternity, raised her head. She wasn't sure what Casey was about to tell her, but she had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to like it. Either way, she had promised to be there for Casey and she wasn't about to go back on that promise.

Shifting uncomfortably, Bev cleared her throat and offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. Honestly, it was more uncertain than anything. "Uh, sure. What's up?"

[Slick Southpaw]

Relief flooded through the doctor and she couldn’t help but beam a heartwarming smile in utter thanks. Realizing she was probably holding Bev’s hand probably longer than the gruff woman was comfortable with, she patted the scarred hand before gently releasing her grip, her face turning bright red in the process.
Still, she forced herself to look Bev square in the eye. It wasn’t going to be easy, and she almost wished she could see Charlie face to face than say this.

Almost

Casey took a deep breath to prepare herself. Trying to find the right words to even start what she was going to share. What would work? What was the right way? Was there even a right way? Honesty was the best policy, but she wasn’t even sure how it was going to affect Bev. Casey shifted her feet uneasily as she braced herself, her keen gaze never leaving Bev’s face.

“I…I need to tell you something…something I’ve never told anyone before. There’s no way I could enter your place with this on my conscience…it wouldn’t be fair to you…”

Casey’s words faltered for a moment as she struggled to keep her focus and the fear from creeping into her voice. This was quite possibly on her top ten fears, and it hurt something awful. Uncertainty boiled in her stomach and she grabbed her cybernetic tail, rubbing the tip and clutching it close to her as she often did when incredibly anxious. It was a security blanket that never left or betrayed her.

“A-as you k-k-know, I told you my sister is dead….p-part of that is true. B-b-but that’s not the entire story. The sister t-t-that I know and loved dearly is dead…”

She bit her lip until she tasted blood again, trying not to cry. Saying it out loud made it seem more horrifically true and she felt so incredibly guilty for starting to share her heavy burden with someone who has probably had her own lifetime of terrors and didn’t need another to pile on.

“Sh…she…well C-charlotte…I always called her Charlie. And right when I s-started med school, she ran away to join up with the BVG gang…she t-took to it like a s-seal to water. I…I tried everything I could to get her out, but she refused…and now….now she’s one of their top dogs. Goes by “Big Red” and…the last time we met…it was terrible and soul crushing. That’s not my twin, that’s not my sister out there. She looks like me and she talks like me, but I…I can’t call her my family, my sibling. N-not any more. Not after the things she’s done.”

So focused on keeping from crying, her face took on a haunted, fearful look as she continued to talk, confessing and feeling the twist of self loathing as well as a sense of peace from sharing.

“Not after the people she’s killed. The people she’s commanded. I wanted my Charlie back, we had so many plans together to help the community…then…then she changed to this…killer. I’ve been trying to reach out to her, hoping she would come to her senses and leave that awful place, those terrible people, working with that dreadful woman—she told me she’d adopted that lady as her new little sister since I didn’t want to follow her footsteps…”

Casey sucked in her breath, admitting this, saying all of it for the first time felt like it was a knife in her heart, twisting and stabbing. Unable to bear eye contact any more, she hung her head and her tail drooped in obvious dismay as her voice wavered audibly, but still resolute with dogged determination to not hide this from Bev.

“I-I-I was terrified if I breathed a word of this to anyone that something bad would happen. And it would be my fault for sharing a burden that’s mine alone to bear…
If…if you’re repulsed by me…my ex-familial associations…or think my prescence in your home would endanger you…I understand if you don’t want me to come along. I don’t…I don’t…”

She looked up, her green eyes shining as her brows were knit with fear and worry. In a little bit more forceful and louder voice than she intended, she continued, gripping her tail fiercely.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me, okay?! You're a special friend to me, and I don't want you to get hurt!”

[Miss Conception]

Casey's confession might as well have been a sledgehammer, for it hit Bev with the same blunt, traumatic force of one. Her expression shifted from warm, open sincerity to cold, guarded distance, and if her emotional barriers had manifested themselves in reality, Casey would have seen them shoot up around her like the trunks of dying trees, concealing and protecting her from harm. Contrary to her confrontational personality, Bev's first instinct when faced with an emotional crisis was to retreat. Like an armored tortoise, she withdrew into her shell where it was dark, quiet, and safe, leaving her aggressor to deal with her stony exterior. She should have known better than to bear her heart to someone she scarcely knew. Every time she tried, she ended up bleeding everywhere as though she'd been run through with a knife. It had happened with Charlie, someone she thought she could trust—someone she thought she could love—and it was happening again.

Bev felt sick to her stomach. Her face had become eerily apathetic, but her honest eyes radiated hurt, anguish, and disbelief, as if she couldn’t comprehend the horror of what Casey had told her. The realization that Casey was capable of lying was not a pleasant one. Above all, Bev cherished the girl’s ability to tell the truth like it was something to be desired. Bev understood her reasons for keeping her sister’s identity a secret, but why had she thought it necessary to lie when approached about the subject as opposed to telling the truth from the start? That, above all, was what hurt Bev the most. She didn’t understand why she was constantly fed partial truths and concealed lies. Was she really so unbearable that not even her friends felt comfortable opening up to her? Was it because she was a police officer—or rather—a former police officer? Regardless of her job title (or lack thereof), she was a person, and she appreciated being treated as such. She had allowed herself to sympathize with Casey’s loss, revealing a painful aspect of her life that she rarely—if ever—revealed to anyone, only to discover that her sympathy had been unrequited since its conception. Knowing that she’d been willingly led to mourn the death of Casey’s sister on false grounds made her so angry that she wanted to take a swing at the redhead herself. But, she didn’t. Instead, she turned her back to Casey and ran her fingertips over her scarred lips, saying nothing.

So close. She’d been so close to breaking ground with Casey. After going it alone for so many years, she thought she’d finally found someone to confide in, someone to feel something for without fear of being betrayed, abandoned, or used. Now she was back to square one. As badly as she wanted to turn to Casey and say, “Ya know what? It's fine. Let’s have some breakfast,” she couldn’t bring herself to do so. In addition to withholding the truth from Bev until she felt it was convenient, Casey had no idea what Big Red had put her through. It was like she was trapped in some sort of twisted, sadistic nightmare; the one person who had started to make her feel like a human being again was identical to the one who had virtually destroyed her with a single command. A bitter, wounded shred of Bev’s consciousness whispered to her from a dark corner of her mind, questioning whether or not she could have been spared such horrible torment if Casey had done something differently in her youth. The brunette was disgusted with herself for even thinking such a thing; none of this was Casey’s fault, and she knew it. Regardless, her brain had started swimming with ‘what ifs,’ and she took a seat on the couch to counteract the rush of lightheadedness that had washed over her. Resting her elbows on her knees, she keeled over and buried her forehead in her palms, shaking her head in misery as muttered incoherently through her fingers.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?”

What if Casey had stopped Big Red from entering the gang? What if she’d tried harder to reach out to her sister? Would any of it have made a difference? Bev wished she knew, but none of it mattered in the end. What was done was done, and there was point in dwelling on a past that couldn’t be changed. Getting upset at Casey for something she had or hadn't done years prior to meeting Bev was ridiculous, and Bev knew it. Besides, the former guardswoman could tell that Casey was in just as much pain as she was. Still, in spite of everything, Casey had something that Bev didn’t: a living, breathing sibling. Bev couldn’t pretend that she wasn't annoyed at Casey for taking her sister's life for granted. Hell, she would have given almost anything for the privilege of having Michael back. As long as Charlotte was alive, there was still hope. Bev found a crude, cosmic irony in the realization that her survivalist instinct had only been born because of Big Red.

“I’ve already been hurt, Casey. There’s no stoppin’ that. An’ I know who yer sister is.”

Lifting her head, Bev looked dismally up at Casey, the subtle lines creasing her face appearing more evident in the wake of the emotional exhaustion that was settling over her. Raising her right hand and turning it slowly so that Casey could see where something had been jammed through her palm and out the other side, she sighed.

“Wasn’t her hand that did this, but it might as well ‘ave been. And now she’s back. They’re both back. Hunting us down like a pack o’ wolves, most likely.”

Sometimes, Bev wished she could be a robot so that she didn’t have to feel. It would be so much easier to deal with emotions if she could sort through them like a machine; systematically, mathematically, and objectively. Unfortunately, emotions were never objective. They were messy, complicated, and made no sense whatsoever. She had only just started recovering from the tournament’s aftermath and the loss of her job, and now she had to comfort and protect Casey from the evils of her own flesh and blood. She didn’t know if she could handle everything life was throwing at her on her own, and as much as she wanted to reach out for help, she wasn’t convinced that she could trust Casey to shoulder the other half of the burden. She’d done it alone long enough. She didn’t need help. She’d just do what she always did; suffer in silence while she fell apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. She closed her eyes.

“I can’t do this again. I can’t let them get you, too.”

[Slick Southpaw]

“Who d’ya think they practiced on first?”

Casey replied bitterly as watching Bev’s reaction felt like hot knives peeling her flesh away. Regret ate at her from the inside out as she twisted her tail, she knew she’d made a mistake and now Bev was mentally paying the price. If Casey wasn’t careful, she’d pay physically as well. But she, the twin deserved to feel all this anguish, this loathing…if she had just tried a little harder, maybe Bev wouldn’t have had to suffer.

The doctor stood squarely in front of Bev, her bottom lip quivering as she struggled to keep her composure. “Who d’ya think she started on to force gang membership on?” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she grabbed the ends of her tank, taking it off completely. She had to make Bev understand she didn’t lie to hurt her, but to protect her. Seeing the hurt in the former sergeant’s eyes seared into her brain far worse than any words could ever conceive.

There was no bra underneath her tank. And there was no need to. An ugly band of burns from self-cauterization covered her chest where her breasts were supposed to be. One could make out the outline of left hand prints from the burns. Her handprints. It was low enough that even wearing a tank top, even one with gel implants in, would not be noticed.

“D’ya know what she said to me?” Casey said through gritted teeth. She had no more energy for tears, only a sense of hollowness and a burning desire to make Bev understand. “She said, ‘Casey, I know how much you chest bind to hide yourself away from the mean boys on the street. I’ll fix it for you so no boy will ever bother you again. We’ll rule the streets together.’ C—charlie knew better than anyone that I could not forget, that I could never really forget anything after my spinal cord upgrade. I can remember the knife cutting in, I remember trying to burn my chest so I couldn’t bleed to death, I remember everything. The smells, the sights, the room that we were in, down to the last crack in the wall. I can’t ever forget and she knew it.”

She slowly put her tank back on, her face a picture of pain of a survivor, but she had to continue. “You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? Do you really want to know? I’m being up front and honest to you, and for chrissake, it’s something no one should have to hear.” Her heart quailed as the memories were recalled as if they happened yesterday. Another beautiful curse from her mechanical appendage.

“I thought that after that terrible incident, that I was scarred for life, figuratively and literally, that C-Charlie would have seen the error of her ways. I was scared of her, terrified what would happen next. We hadn’t spoken in months, and I started talking to one of our old childhood friends. He was training to go into the Aekean guard, preparing for the physical fitness tests. When…I finally summoned the courage to tell him what happened, he was horrified, and rightly so…”

Casey paused, her heart hammering in her chest, looking paler than she usually did. Breathing deeply, she sought to keep a grip on her emotions. She couldn’t back down now.

“He disappeared for a week. I get a phone call from Charlie, telling me that she wants to meet up to apologize and wants to show me that she was beginning to change her ways….I should have known better. I—I saw him, barely alive as…that woman…no she was more of a creature than a human being. A predator…beginning to peel the skin from his flesh. “

At this point Casey’s knees did turn to jelly and she sat down hard on the concrete floor, tucking her knees in tightly while rocking back and forth as remembering the abomination of Widow’s torture haunted her thoughts with her vivid recall.

“The worst thing about her being my twin is that she knew everything about me that makes me tick. She knew I didn’t care if I was her personal punching bag…both of us have dished it out at each other as siblings. She knew how to devastate me, knowing that if someone was hurt because of my connection with them or my interaction with them…that it would hurt far worse than any physical or psychological damage inflicted on me.”

In a much quieter voice, she added, “That was the day I was forced to conclude that my dear sister was dead. She—she was a rough around the edges kind of kid and…she wouldn’t do those things. She just wouldn’t. She used to cry over abandoned kitties in the alley way. I…I’d rather…I’d rather have her dead than deal with this.”

She looked up, glancing at Bev with utter anguish and despair radiating from her face. “W-would you prefer your sibling to be alive to watch them to turn them into an appalling, destructive monster that would willingly carve you open, and torture your dearest friends in front of your face? If that’s what having a living sibling means, then I want no part in it, especially when it makes you a martyr with a useless cause.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she hugged herself tightly. “Does that make me as bad as her? I don’t want her to hurt anyone anymore…”

There it was, the big naked truth. The elephant in the room, the fears exposed, bearing of the soul. She said it all, it was all out there, like some big ugly stain. Unlike Bev, who kept distant and stern to repress her fears, her emotions, and using toughness as a mask, Casey ran the opposite direction, wearing her emotions on a sleeve and keeping a kind and compassionate mask to hide the nasty terrors that haunted her heart.

This kind of talk; it was something she hadn’t done since she talked to Devin. Something she’d hoped she’d never have to do, especially to someone who so obviously wished to keep distant. She didn’t need her mechanical arm to see Bev retreat into herself, watching the guarded movements, the subtle gestures of pain and regret. She might be oblivious to other cues, but as a doctor, she was highly tuned to indications of suffering, be they obvious or barely noticeable.
But why did telling the truth hurt so much, why did telling Bev hurt a thousand times worse?
Why?

Unable to answer her own mental dilemma, Casey pressed her face into her knees; the sight of Bev’s own agony and being the cause of it by being honest was too much for her. With a voice muffled by her jeans, she continued,

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me. I'm sorry I lied, but I wanted to protect you. I...I don't want another repeat of what happened...I don't know if I could handle it again."

[Miss Conception]

Bev's heart seized in her chest when Casey removed her shirt, inciting her to stare in wide-eyed horror as her friend revealed not only her tarnished skin, but the true nature of her sister’s cruelty. Instinctively, Bev recoiled from the redhead and pressed herself into the back of the couch, wearing an expression of profound, immeasurable grief. Yet, it wasn’t fear, disgust, or hatred that caused her to react so adversely. Rather, her scarred visage had taken the form of pure, genuine remorse for the pain that Casey had been forced to endure. Her throat constricted, preventing her from composing the words she so badly wanted to say but didn’t know how to articulate. Instead, she remained in place, her mouth dry and her heart beating loudly in her ears.

Had she really been so consumed by her own self-pity that she’d been blind to the torment that Casey so aptly masked behind her kind, gentle nature? In many ways, Bev conceded that Casey was stronger than she ever had been and ever could be. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the anguish that stemmed from Casey’s traumatic history with her sister. Had she and Michael been in Casey and Charlotte’s position, Bev knew without a doubt that she would have killed herself as soon as she was given the opportunity to do so. She had tried, in fact; many times and many ways during the months that immediately followed her brother’s death. Luckily, her battle scars were more prominent than the ones that adorned her wrists, and the thin cuts that ran up and down her arms were rarely noticed. In spite of all her feigned toughness, she was just as breakable as any other human being. She simply refused to show the cracks in her armor.

As painful as it was, watching Casey crumble before her eyes was helping Bev understand the true meaning of her brother’s words. There's people in this world who need ya. Ya can't give up now. The reason she was still alive was because she had made a decision; a decision to live, not for herself, but for the people who had suffered like she had suffered. She had dedicated her life to her job so that she could put an end to the pain that spread through the city like a disease. If she had managed to save even one individual from succumbing to tragedy, she was content. That was who she was, why she existed. Although she had been stripped of her title, her desire to ease the suffering of others persisted and ignited a cleansing fire within her, burning the remnants of her selfish tendencies to ash. She and Casey were similar in their shared aspiration to make the world a better place. Bev had merely lost sight of her goal amidst the unending chaos that plagued her life, and needed someone to remind her of what was truly important. Like some sort of redheaded angel, Casey swooped in and took her by the hand, pulling her out of her misery as she kicked and screamed to be let go. Now, though, she couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t. She needed Casey, and Casey needed her. It had taken a bit of a shock for her to finally realize it, but now that she did, she wasn’t going to let Casey suffer alone.

Bev didn’t recall falling to her knees in front of Casey, but before she could process her own actions, her arms were wrapped tightly around the redhead in what was most certainly an unheard of display of affection for the former Sergeant. Her right hand cradled Casey’s head against her shoulder as her left rested weakly around the girl’s waist, and for the first time, she didn’t shrink away from the physical contact. Her voice was little more than a frantic, hoarse whisper when she spoke, her words just loud enough for Casey to hear. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’m so, so sorry.”

Her armor was no longer cracked. It had shattered completely.

[Slick Southpaw]

Surrounded by warmth she so desperately craved, Casey buried her face into Bev’s neck, hot tears streaming down, unbidden. Whether they were from joy or relief, or something else, she didn’t care. She was being enveloped by someone who cared, allowing herself to be embraced. Ever so slowly, hesitantly, she began to wrap her arms around Bev.

The enormity of the situation, of this moment liquified down her own walls that she hid behind. Her mask of unending optimism and cheerfulness vanished completely. She had finally found someone she could talk to, that she wouldn’t regret sharing her darkest, ugliest, side of her. She wasn’t rejected or abandoned cruelly, forced into a corner, or treated like a ticking time bomb of insanity waiting to happen. Instead she felt she could melt into this strong woman, one who was physically scarred, forsaken by others, yet she refused to lie down and die, moving forward in ways beyond her own comprehension.

Here it was, finally, a person she could rely on, someone she could share her hopes and dreams and fears with. Someone who wouldn’t go darkside because they had seen the corruption of the city, deciding to revel in it instead. Someone who genuinely wanted to fight for improvement of the city, to help others, to continue fighting the good fight.

She wasn’t alone.
She wasn’t alone
She wasn’t alone.

The realization filled her with incomprehensible joy as Bev’s coarse apologetic whispers echoed in her ears. In a muffled voice, Casey replied softly as she curled up into Bev’s embrace, “Y-you’re right, you didn’t know. I wasn’t honest with you…so sorry…”

Heart pounding, Casey placed her living hand on Bev’s scarred forearm, squeezing it gently. “We’re gonna face this together, you and I. We…we can be stronger than by ourselves.”

Waves of strange feelings cascaded over the doctor. She felt confused, yearning to say more words of comfort, wanting to hold on and grab harder than she ever had before; she’d found a rock, an anchor in this nightmarish storm. It was such a glorious, tingly feeling to finally find that foothold, that sanctuary and having felt the satisfaction of trust—something she hadn’t felt in a long time, she was deeply afraid if she grabbed too hard, it would crack and disappear. A fragile thing, something she was terrified that her relationship with her twin would snatch away and destroy.
Deep down, the doctor vowed that Charlie would never have that kind of satisfaction. She would not take Bev away from her, no matter what. As far as she was concerned, Bev did far more with this hug than Charlie had done for her all those years ago.

“I—I know I’m not as strong as you, and I'm not much of a fighter...b-but…I’m here for you…a-always.”

[Miss Conception]

"Hey," Bev began, her voice thick with concern as she maneuvered herself out of Casey’s embrace. Mindful not to break the closeness that they had established, Bev maintained contact by keeping her hand situated on the girl’s upper arm as her stern, hazel eyes greeted Caesy’s green ones. "Yer a stronger person than I could ever hope ta be. Beautiful inside and out, and nothin’ like that monster who calls herself yer sister, ya hear me?" The corners of Bev’s mouth lifted in what she hoped was a reassuring smile, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as she did her best to comfort the girl the only way she knew how. "We’ll get through this. I dunno how, but we will. I promise." Releasing Casey’s arm, she brought her hand up to the redhead’s cheek and wiped away a tear with her thumb, her movements cautious and tender despite the roughness of her hands. "Come on. We best eat somethin’ before headin’ over to my place. All I’ve got is beer and potato chips." Attempting to lighten the mood by making jokes at her own expense, Bev puzzled over various ways to make Casey smile as she prepared to stand, only to find that she’d put herself into a position that would be difficult to escape from while her leg was still ensnared in the doctor’s medieval contraption. "s**t," she grumbled, realizing that there wasn’t any furniture within an arm’s reach to help her get to her feet. Feeling rather defeated, she glanced at Casey with an expression of confusion written across her face. She wanted to ask for help, but the concept of actually needing help (let alone asking for it) was so foreign to her that she didn’t actually know how to go about it without looking pathetic, weak, or incapable.

Bev couldn’t help but wonder, though; did keeping up appearances in front of Casey really matter? The doctor was more familiar with Bev’s vulnerable side than her own family, and hadn’t judged her for it. In fact, Casey had outright admitted that she still considered Bev to be stronger than her—which, as far as Bev was concerned, was completely untrue. Her happy, innocent exterior was a brave cover for the burden she’d been carrying around, and in Bev’s mind, Casey’s choice was far more courageous than the cold, distant veneer she’d been hiding her own traumatic past behind. Truth be told, Bev wished that she could be more like Casey. She wished that she could be someone who brought a smile to people’s faces, even after all the horrible things she’d been through. Casey was one of those people who lit up a room when she entered, stealing the show with her radiant spirit while Bev sulked in a corner like the dark raincloud she was. Even so, Bev was glad to at least have the chance to bask in Casey’s warmth.

Now that she realized what an egocentric idiot she was, Bev resisted the temptation to give in to the vicious cycle and feel guilty about feeling guilty for herself. Instead, she focused on changing her attitude. Rome hadn’t been built in a day, or so she’d been told. If her goal was to make the city a better place for everyone, she needed to start with what was right in front of her and work her way from there. What she had right in front of her was Casey. Bev needed to realize that she could still do good without the aid and intimidation of her former title, and she was doing it. Casey was living proof. Perhaps she could do more good with a friendly touch than she could with all the weaponry in the land. Perhaps she needed to change herself before she tried to change the world.

Clearing her throat reluctantly, Bev shifted and attempted to move her leg. She was met only with a searing wave of pain that informed her that she could not, in fact, stand up on her own. Baby steps. "Uh, think I could… um, get a hand, here?"