Hey. I'm tired. I've been working this for a long while. I had kind of a block but I worked through it. This is probably the longest chapter I've written but it's likely complete and utter crap. Whatever. Review, don't review. Love me, don't love me. It's a free country.
Thanks to: My mom for making that fantastic spaghetti last night and buying me cheese cake. Your okay...For a human.
Disclaimer: I'm just fucking with Richelle Mead's characters.
Sydney's Turn Still
"You did what?"
He winces, looking anywhere but me. The table, our waiter flirting with the woman across from us, my boots. If I didn't supremely want to murder him right now I would have teased him about it.
But I was furious.
"How dare you? You had no right to erase my memory!"
Adrian bites his lips which are slightly chapped from the cold. I had been totally surprised when I saw his car parked down the street. I mean, we'd been in a car accident for God's sakes. And it was still in perfect condition, like nothing had ever happened. Eventually, after a while of driving in silence, I'd complained of hunger. Mostly I just wanted to get him in a public area so he'd have no choice but to tell me what happened. Oddly, he gave me every single detail. I'd still yet to ask him where we were going.
My hands fiddle with my coffee cup. "You sure as hell better be. That's like mind rape. Since when did you have magical powers?" I was starting to feel like we were in a fucked up version of Harry Potter.
"I was born with them. At least I think so." He finds it in his heart to return his gaze to mine again, bless him.
"How do you not know? Didn't someone tear through your door on your eleventh birthday or something?" Long lashes bat on sharp cheekbones for a minute then a laugh bursts out. I see the guy in front of us eye him, interested. Jesus. Does he have admirers everywhere? It's almost ridiculous in its obviousness.
I shake my head, focusing on the smiling green eyes in front of me. "What's so funny?"
"You." Adrian says, still chuckling a bit.
"Hmmm," I take a sip of my coffee then make a face. Not enough sugar. "That's what every girl wants to here."
Out of the blue, he whispers, remorsefully, "Don't be angry."
I'm so very cynical, condescending, cutting. But I have never been unfeeling; no matter how much I try to pretend. So I get it, I understand why he did it. He's a good guy and as boring as that is, it's not a bad thing. But I've never been one to take orders well.
So I accidentally (on purpose) kick his leg and shrug.
"Well, I am. It's a free country and you can't tell me what to feel. Or, coincidentally, what to remember." And with that I end our conversation, snapping for our lazy waiter to take our orders already.
We stay at a hotel.
Since we're trying to save money we have to share a room. He offers me the bed and I offer him my finger. The middle one if you weren't wondering. I'm in the kind of bad mood even Eddie would be exasperated with. Whatever. Everyone is entitled to bad days. Or bad years.
"We'll share the bed. It's too late to be awkward." I snap. He throws his hand up in surrender. We shed some unnecessary clothing then I turn the light off.
The night doesn't threaten to pull me somewhere safer like I had hoped. Maybe the warm, breathing body next to me has something to do with that. I hesitant then turn to see him staring at the ceiling. How strange it is to be close to someone like this without having sex. My voice is tired when I ask, "Do your parents not know?"
He picks up on what I'm asking. "No, they don't."
"Because my dad…Well, he's not a very nice person. My mom loves him so much she lets it continue. And because I'm an Alchemist, a fake one, but one nonetheless. They believe magic is disgusting, totally against God. I wouldn't be accepted." Adrian says, unemotionally. Who'd have thought someone who shines as bright as him would have little knots of sadness deep inside. Now it's my turn to apologize. But I don't, not really.
"That sucks for you."
He snorts, as bitter as black licorice. "What about your parents?"
"Well," I shift in the bed noting how close we both are now. The covers are only half drawn over him so I catch a peek of his chest. Not bad. "My mom's in prison and my dad hates me."
Adrian doesn't offer any of those excuses people throw at you when you're being scary honest. Just squints like he's trying to decode a hidden message in my words or in me. Who knows? We're so screwed up. The perfect pair. "I bet you my dad's worse then yours."
"Impossible. My dad left at an airport when I was eight."
"My dad forgot my birthday three years in a row."
"That's like a 3 on the scale. It doesn't count."
"Oh, I didn't know there were rules."
Okay. "I guess there isn't."
"I'm worried about Eddie."
It's so random but I can't act like I'm not worrying too. Jill is a great guardian but Adrian was there for a reason and I'm not sure how I feel about us leaving him around Keith. I let the statement hang in the air for a moment, to recognize it as being there then I change the subject.
"Is your sister really involved with Keith and Eric?"
A sigh. Everything is catching up with him now. "I don't know. She warned me, before we crashed. I just couldn't understand what she was saying. Eric faked his own death for a reason. I just hope she's okay."
"Where are we going? Are we looking for her?" I manage to hold back the question I want to know the most. What did they do to you in there? He seems fine but that doesn't mean he really is.
But his tone books no further questions when he states, "We're looking for somebody." I can practically hear the- now go to sleep and I'm about to turn around again but then I feel a hand wind it's way toward my back and push me closer. Oh good God. He must out of his mind what the absolute fu-
He gives me a look in the darkness that makes me pause. Why is he so warm? "Shut up and go to sleep."
"Fuck you." I mumble, into his shoulder.
"Sorry, I don't do blondes."
And it's only because I'm tired that I don't give a retort.
In the morning I'm a mess of repressed comments. It's not like me to hold anything back at all. When I think something, I say it. No matter how crude, rude or weird. Simple as that. But there are a lot of things I've been thinking lately that I don't particular want out in the universe. I don't want them in general. Like- dare I think it- feelings? Ugh. I shudder even to acknowledge it.
Adrian gets in the car after making a phone call and rakes a hand through his hair messy brown hair. He looks like he just rolled out of bed without glancing in the mirror, which is true. I was going to have to make him buy himself a comb. I, however, looked perfectly put together. My hair was in a pony-tail and I was wearing a white long sleeve shirt with a black vest and purple skirt. Even though my feet were going to hate me later, I had worked in some black heels. This was one of those days were I wanted to feel pretty.
He stares at me for a long moment than whistles. A long, keening sound that creates a contrast to loudness of the engine revving. "You put every woman on earth to shame, Sydney."
The use of my first name contributes to the intensity of the compliment and I think I might be blushing. I make up a song in my head. Feelings, feelings go away, don't come back another day.
And in my mass confusion I accidentally go, "You don't look so bad yourself, Adrian."
Jesus Christ. Why did I even volunteer for this? But he just laughs, shooting me a smirk that does nothing to help these. Dumb. Feelings. So I search for something, a flaw I can pounce on, a crack I can break open even farther.
"But you're so skinny. Do you ever eat? It's like you starve yourself."
He stiffens, glances out the window for a minute then straight ahead. "Were heading to Nevada, just in case you were wondering."
That distracts me from the guilt that stings me like an electrical surge. "Who are we looking for?"
"Marcus Finch." Is all he gives. And he doesn't talk again for a long time. After awhile I must doze off because I dream.
"I'm Eric." He gestures behind him. "And I'm sure you all know Keith. Say hi, Adrian. You're going to be with us for a long time."
"Look, we kind of have somewhere to be but it was nice to me- Oh, wait. No it wasn't." I scoff. Adrian's gaze is still too bright on mine. Something is wrong. Supremely wrong.
Eric just laughs. "You're cute. We just might keep you. How about it, Keith?" The man in question shakes his head. Why anyone thinks he's attractive is beyond me. "We can't. She and the boy are spirit bound. They'll be here soon."
My mouth moves of its own accord. "I'm right here."
"And you," Eric's gaze rests on Adrian's, who looks completely shut down. "We have things to discuss. I'm sure you've heard from your sister recently?"
More recently then you think. But Adrian doesn't make a sound. What is he playing at? Keith is eyeing him in way that makes me feel oh, so uncomfortable.
"She wants you to help us." Lies. I marvel how someone can make something so false sound like the truth.
"Adrian," Keith has turned to face the corner now. "You should see her out. Make sure she doesn't remember any of this."
I'm so close to protesting but Adrian's hand is on my wrist and he's tugging, tugging me out the door. He takes me down a hall and I realize how big this place is. It looks like a mental hospital. We turn down a corridor and his hand is still on my wrist. Suddenly, I have to ask, "Where are we going?"
"I'm not going anywhere. You are. "
"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm leaving you here with them!" A pause. My back presses against a wall and I can see something red blinking up ahead. I glare at Adrian, who's almost translucent against the whiteness of the walls.
"Their going to try to get me to join them." His voice is matter of fact. He could be saying the sun is hot or that imaginary friends aren't real.
I sigh, exhausted with him. "Where are we?"
"Guess." He smirks. We're in an unknown place where anything could happen and he's smirking?
He pins me harder, roughly enough that I wince. Green eyes hold mine but it's like I'm not even here anymore. Words spill out of him, soft but venomous and I feel myself getting dizzy. 1.2.3. What's going on? 4.5.6. Damn, what's the number after that? He picks me up, still whispering. And once again, I'm plunged into darkness.
But not before I hear, "You're not my type."
I had to restrain myself up there. I know that whole exchange by heart. "Sage, thinks I'm brilliant." Okay, I'm done. Bye.