violence for the voiceless

Daniel Archer, 25. The one with the gun. in this twilight, our choices seal our fate

[adamantarcher]

Day After Day [Daniel & Colin]

Between seeing Francesca and arriving at the hospital, Daniel had stopped only once: at the last minute he'd had an idea and rushed off to the store, purchasing a notebook of medium size that seemed sturdy enough. Hopefully the concept simmering in the back of his mind would turn out to be more brilliant than bullshit, but only time would tell.

Colin was, predictably, right where Daniel left him (in more ways than one). He saw the look of surprise spreading over his best friend's face and knew he had to act quickly or they'd have to go through the same reunion they'd had twice already.

"Look, I know th-this is sudden," he said breathlessly, rushing to Colin's bedside, "but--some stuff has happened. Basically you got hurt and you can't r-remember new stuff and we've kind of already had th-this conversation before and I'm fine so don't worry about me, and I know it seems like you just got shot yesterday, but you didn't."

He paused, catching his breath, and realized that he had gotten a little flushed with the force of his combined anticipation and apprehension. He wasn't very pleased with that, but he forced himself to ignore it in favor of the next part of his announcement:

"But it's okay, because I had an idea." He presented the notebook to Colin, holding it out for him to take a look at it. "So you can write everything down. W-We'll write a reminder for you to read it in th-the morning or something. So you can get a recap of what happened each day."

He studied Colin's face worriedly, willing him to accept what he'd been told. He suspected that it wasn't going to be as easy as he'd tried to make it sound.

[adamantarcher]

Don't Panic [Daniel & Francesca]

[frankie-lombardi]

Francesca’s ears perked at his sudden confession. So Colin had been shot, lost his memory, and was in need of protection; Lombardi protection. She was intrigued to some degree, wondering how the situation could benefit her end of things, and impressed by Daniel’s sudden change in character. He still stuttered, though, but Francesca noticed something in him that was surprising to witness.

She could tell it was an uncomfortable front to put on, which was evident as he once nearly came undone before her only to be built back up again; his voice brimming with strength.

Under normal circumstances, Francesca would have waved him off by that point, but she found that she couldn’t. She almost wanted to help just to be helpful; however, that was not the case in their situation. Francesca saw it as opportunity to gain leverage and she couldn’t possibly say no to such a thing.

“I see.” Her eyes drifted from Daniel’s direction towards the pen that rested on top of her desk. “I can appreciate your need to protect Colin. We are, after all, a family. We may not treat each other in the best way possible, but when worst comes to worst I know I can trust all of you to have my back…”

She grabbed the pen and began to move it between her fingers, aimlessly. “and vice-versa…to some extent” At that, her gaze darted back to his. “So I suppose I can agree to protect Mr. Flanagan as long as your—his debt is paid in the end.”

Without missing a beat, Francesca dropped the pen. “Is that all?”

[adamantarcher]

She'd said yes.

Well, okay, it was yes with a corollary, yes with a you'll pay me back, but still. It was better than nothing, and it was absolutely what he needed right now. The concept of owing Francesca was as daunting as it was terrifying, but he didn't want to focus on that: what was important was that suddenly he wasn't all on his own. He had the mob behind him now, even if he was only buying that support temporarily.

"Yes," he said simply, mostly because in his heightened emotional state it would have been difficult to get any more words out. "Th-Thank you for your time."

He rose from his seat on legs that desperately wanted to shake, but he forced himself to stand tall; Francesca didn't need to see the peculiar mix of excitement and apprehension that was roiling in his stomach. She needed to see someone strong, someone dependable, someone useful, not the shy, stumbling boy that he--and the rest of the world--had spent his whole life convincing himself that he was.

He was going to leave that boy behind, at least for now.

As he headed for the doorway, he turned to her one last time, feeling unfinished business lingering on the tip of his tongue. Perhaps it was unwise of him, but the fake confidence he had put on was seeping through, and so he spoke once more:

"I won't disappoint you."

With that he was gone, practically dashing for his car when he realized that he could now give Colin some good news.

As he sped off toward the hospital, forever, he couldn't help the sinking feeling deep in his stomach that he'd just sold his soul for good.

[adamantarcher]

Go Bump in the Night [Daniel & Lucas]

[lucaspark]

Lucas generally had no problem sleeping. He was usually too tired from staring at his manuscript or running errands for the Lombardi to stay awake after he put his head on his pillow. But sometimes he was just too full of ideas to lie still. Sometimes he would take a walk in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun came up but after the thugs turned in, just to clear his head.

He’d been on one of those particular jaunts when he’d come across a figure standing alone beneath a streetlight, clad in what appeared to be a set of pyjamas. Moving closer, Lucas had realized that it was none other than Daniel, one of his fellow mob members. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to the guy much, but he had figured out that the other man wasn’t exactly the kind of gangster that struck fear into people’s hearts. He seemed more like a kindly neighbour than a gun-toting man in black.

Lucas’ knowledge of Daniel was confirmed when he heard the other man blurt out, in a shaky voice, "G-Got a light?" The stutter was instantly recognizable. Stepping into the light, Lucas reached into his pocket and withdrew his matchbook.

"Hey," he said, greeting the other man companionably. "Need some help?" He glanced down at Daniel’s hands and realized they were shaking. Was the guy cold? Even if he was only wearing pyjamas, it was a warm enough evening.

[adamantarcher]

Daniel nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was. He wasn't overly familiar with Lucas, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that he was Lombardi, and that was more of a comfort than anything in this moment.

"Th-That would be nice," he said, giving Lucas an uneasy smile. He let Lucas light his cigarette and took in a drag, closing his eyes. Generally his smoking was systematic, something he did because it was what you did, but now he could swear the stick actually did something to calm his nerves, spreading over his body and helping him to think clearer.

Didn't stop his damn hands from shaking, though.

He offered his case up to Lucas in case he wanted one, appraising him for a moment. Lucas reminded him of himself somehow: not in mannerisms, perhaps, but something about him suggested that he didn't quite belong with the mob, either--though he, like Daniel, surely had his reasons. He was torn between wanting to know them and wanting to get the hell inside because he was out on the sidewalk in his pajamas and god, he must have looked ridiculous.

"Seems a little late for a walk." He laughed quietly to himself, looking down at his shoes. He knew well how hypocritical he sounded; he could ignore it for now.

[adamantarcher]

Go Bump in the Night [Open]

He couldn't sleep.

He didn't usually have trouble sleeping. He had his bad nights, of course, but none so epic as this. It was around four in the morning, he'd wager, and he was standing out on the street, having done little more than slid on a pair of shoes before going outside. The cool night air was refreshing against his skin, which had grown clammy beneath his covers; even still, he could find no peace.

There was usually an underlying reason whenever he couldn't fall asleep. He suspected that this time it had something to do with stress, all the feelings that had built up in the last few weeks finally coming to a head. He was exhausted, yet his eyes stayed open and his brain whirred on.

He walked down the street a ways, hands in his pockets, and stopped underneath the pooled light of a streetlamp. Sighing, he dug out his little silver case and removed a cigarette. Upon trying to light it, however, he found that his hands were shaking too badly; he couldn't get the damn lighter to ignite.

"Dammit," he muttered, shaking his hand out. Right. Deep breaths, try again. Right--

And that was when he heard them.

Footsteps. Footsteps in his direction, it seemed, and at that his heart leapt into his throat: it was four in the morning and he was alone and someone was coming toward him. Frantically he ran through a list of things that could result from this situation, namely his death.

Don't be ridiculous, he told himself firmly, you're in the mob. You're packing. Except he wasn't packing because he was in his pajamas and he had left his gun in his apartment and maybe the person coming toward him was with the Macini and fucking hell, he was going to die, wasn't he?

"G-Got a light?" he blurted out to the shadowy figure, wishing he sounded more confident. Hadn't he heard that establishing a connection with a possible attacker could make them less likely to hurt you? Wasn't that a thing?

It seemed he was about to find out.

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

[firestarter-sharpe]

Colin got shot.

Ryan was oh so tempted to make some remark about it being the goddamn mob, about how Danny could probably expect to see any number of his colleagues or friends or whatever he wanted to call them get shot, maybe even die. He didn’t, though, instead wrinkling his nose slightly as he looked down into his cup of tea. Would anyone care if he got shot and died? Isabella would have if he still talked to her. His dad might have when he was alive, if only to see Ryan in pain. Ryan doubted Frankie would give it much thought before finding another debt collector.

So no, not really. Maybe Daniel might, but…Ryan wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to think about that, so he didn’t, listening to Daniel’s story as he took tiny sips of his tea. It was a pretty good fucking batch if he said so himself, but Ryan Sharpe wasn’t going to be caught dead bragging about goddamn tea.

"Huh, really must’ve fucked the guy up," Ryan remarked, raising an eyebrow as he thought. "Ain’t never heard of that happening, but it’s still pretty goddamn fucked. So is he ever gonna remember anything again? Or is it one of those things where they can’t remember like…within a week? Just cause the Doctor says something doesn’t mean they’re right. They can still fuck up like the rest of us, though that’d…shit, I’d hate that. Can’t imagine that."

This was Ryan trying to be understanding, trying to make Daniel feel a little bit more at ease. Again, he wasn’t sure why, not really. He never would’ve cared about what someone, aside from perhaps Isabella and a few others in Chicago, would’ve thought about him in that way. He would’ve rather been feared than liked. At least that got people to stay out of his goddamn way. He was finding, though, that even if they did get in his way, that didn’t mean to automatically throw them out of his life.

"Wait, you…saw him get shot? Did you see who shot him?"

He leaned forward, a little bit more interested this time. Feelings were uncomfortable territory for Ryan, but action less so. He’d not ponder the intricacies of revenge or regret, but he’d happily seek retribution instead. Ryan was a man of action, and when Daniel’s story sunk in, his mind went to what his plan of action would be if he were in Daniel’s shoes - and the first step would be to find out who goddamn did it. Of course, it was one of those fucking Macini wimps, but there were ways to find out specific members, if you knew who to ask.

[adamantarcher]

Daniel pressed his lips together as Ryan spoke. He wondered if he looked ridiculous right now, coming to complain about the kind of thing that happened every day in the lives of men like them. Probably. Even so, there was a note of sympathy somewhere in Ryan's voice, and he anchored himself to that note, telling himself that maybe his displeasure was valid. Maybe. Just a little.

"I--I don't know," he admitted, looking into his mug. Was it possible that Colin could get his memory back with time? "It's only been a few days. I guess th-the doctor could be wrong." Against all odds, he actually laughed, shaking his head. "It would be great if he were wrong."

There was something in Ryan's voice that made him look up, then, his eyebrows drawing together. He hadn't even--he'd been so busy running around trying to keep Colin's situation in some semblance of order, imploring Francesca for help, and apologizing to people he'd wronged that he hadn't really thought about it.

Yeah, he'd seen Colin get shot, and that didn't just happen. There had to have been someone on the other side of the gun, someone with their finger on the trigger. Someone had sighted Colin, had aimed, had fired.

Something hot rose up from deep inside of him, smoldering and angry, the kind of fury he had seldom felt before--but it was marked by reluctance, too, fear that the thoughts swirling around his head at present might somehow manifest themselves into action.

Should he find out who did it?

"I didn't," Daniel said after a long moment, "but... I could." He met Ryan's eyes. "D-Do you th-think I should?"

[adamantarcher]

Don't Panic [Daniel & Francesca]

[frankie-lombardi]

Francesca rotated the fountain pen in her hand mindlessly, as she’d been doing for the last five minutes. Slow days such as the one she was currently experiencing were the hardest to deal with. Since the pharmacy incident, which Fran presently preferred to not think about, there wasn’t much business. Her office was empty and hadn’t been in the need for a proper wash in weeks. She wasn’t sadistic by any means, but it was strange not having a freshly washed desk to work at almost every week.

Days of integration and forceful confessions were long gone. All that was left were stacks of paperwork rotting away in the farthest corner of her desk, the dust on top of them collecting dust particles of their own. On that particular day, Francesca was due to examine one of those stacks, but found herself staring at it from a distance instead. 

That was, until, the handle at the door turned to reveal Daniel Archer.

Francesca dropped her pen immediately, though remained slumped in her seat, eyes fighting to look in his direction.

He was first to speak, stuttering after the second word. Not that she thought about him often, but from time to time she wondered why someone like him got mixed up with likes of her family.

And then he mentioned Colin Flanagan, a name Francesca had only heard maybe twice before.

She was intrigued, but mostly too tired to deal with poor Daniel. Francesca merely raised her hand to stop him, her eyes closing by default before reopening slightly to reveal a questioning gaze.

“If he works for me then yes, I might.” She dropped her arm and sighed. “Please get on with it, I’ve got…a lot to do.” Francesca’s eyes flickered towards the pile of papers before returning to Daniel, her lips pulled tighter.

[adamantarcher]

Francesca seemed terminally disinterested. That wasn't good. Disinterested meant less receptive, and less receptive meant she might not listen to him at all. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't get support from the mob for Colin's condition; he had to do this. He had to. He had no other choice.

Well, he did. He could let Colin get carted off to... wherever they took people who couldn't take care of themselves. He didn't know. He didn't want to know. He had heard the stories, though, and whatever really happened to people like Colin, he couldn't let happen to Colin himself.

That was what gave him the strength to sit up, to strengthen his spine, to hold himself without fear up to this woman whose every move oozed this terrifying kind of disregard, like she had a hundred other more important things to do (and she probably did). He was already starting to lose her attention. He'd have to be quick and determined and firm to keep it.

He could do that.

"Colin was shot while attempting to defend Lombardi assets and damaged his brain. He's in th-the hospital right now, still recovering. Th-The doctor believes he may have lost his ability to remember new th-things. Stuff from after he was shot." He was starting to lose steam. Gritting his teeth, he took a calming breath and continued, willing himself to be the person who had sprinted to Colin's aid, the person who had shown up on Ryan's doorstep and apologized with everything he'd had.

"I'm concerned that he'll be--taken away," he finally said, his voice ringing with a clarity that he begged himself to keep. "He has no family to tell the doctor no. The mob is the closest thing he's got. All I ask is for protection until I can work out a routine that works for him. He's still--he's still physically capable. Once we've got it all figured out, I'm certain he can repay the debt owed from granting this favor. If not, I'm prepared to take on that debt myself."

And that was that. Suddenly he felt deflated; still, he didn't allow the strength to go out of his spine. If he was going to put on a brave face for Francesca, he wasn't going to allow it to slip so easily.

[adamantarcher]

xoxoxo

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

[firestarter-sharpe]

Danny was somewhat relieved. Ryan was relieved that Danny was relieved. He frowned at the thought and stepped aside to let the younger man in, thinking about the implications of the thought for a good few moments before he decided to speak up again.

"Yeah, answers."

Okay, that didn’t really count as speaking. Ryan looked around the apartment as Danny entered, briefly wondering what his space said about him to someone else. Ryan rarely had people over - in fact, he generally avoided spending time in his own place. It wasn’t that he hated it, but staying here made him restless, and the times he was here alone, he generally put on the radio in order to fill the space. Ryan’s favorite radio act was Bessie Smith. Not that anyone knew that, of course.

Ryan led the way to his small dining area, coming back quickly with an extra mug of tea. The fixings were already laid out on the table next to his own half-drunk mug, and he rolled his eyes as he sat down at his seat and waited for Danny to do anything but stand in the doorway.

"You can fucking sit down, y’know. I’m not going to gut you or anything. Least not while you’re in my place where they can find the body."

Was that in bad taste? Probably. Ryan looked down at the table and took a sip of his tea. When he spoke again, his voice was more somber, and he wasn’t looking directly at Danny.

"What was so important that you went and ran off for?"

[adamantarcher]

Daniel laughed uneasily at Ryan's comment, unsure of whether or not he was actually joking but deciding that accepting it as a joke was more likely to decrease the degree to which he just kind of wanted to run out and never come back.

Progress, he reminded himself, turning it into a mantra, this is progress.

Sometimes he wished he were a little more willing to give up on things.

He sat down across from Ryan, taking the mug with a quiet "thank you." When he'd first met Ryan, he hadn't thought he'd do something as--as calm as drinking tea with him, yet there they were. The tea was good, better than he'd expected it to be, and he enjoyed it for a moment before he braced himself for all the talking he was about to do.

"Colin got shot," he began, looking down into his mug. How was he supposed to explain what had happened concisely? And how much was he supposed to tell Ryan? Truth be told, he wanted to tell Ryan everything, but he wasn't sure that was the right course of action, both for Colin and for himself.

But he was trying to get the mob behind him, right? He was already working on Francesca, but it wouldn't hurt to get support from others, especially people he knew. Maybe telling Ryan everything was the right thing to do.

Bitterly, he remembered the days when everything seemed so simple. Don't steal. Don't lie. Don't inflict pain on others. Those were rules he could live by, most of the time. But things had changed, and now what was best was so hard to identify. With no sort of moral or social construct to act on, Daniel figured he was pretty much on his own.

Then tell Ryan it is. If there were no rules, he couldn't break any, right?

"He--he cracked his head open when he fell, I guess. Lost a lot of blood. He's still in th-the hospital." His jaw tightened. "I was th-there when he broke up. Told him what happened. We ended up... arguing about it. How I should have left him th-there. I--disagreed with th-that, obviously, and I ended up leaving. I came back th-the next day and I was all ready to apologize and he just... he couldn't remember anything. Any of it. He th-thought he'd just woken up for th-the first time."

He took a sip of his tea to steel himself, meeting Ryan's eyes in an effort to--to find strength in the connection, or something. He wasn't sure.

"Doctor said he--he might have trouble remembering new stuff. Th-Things after the bombing. Forever."

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

[firestarter-sharpe]

Ryan tapped his foot slightly as he waited for Daniel to begin. Not that he was actually impatient (because he had literally nothing else to do), but just to give a sense of urgency. Otherwise, who knew how long it would take Daniel to muster up the courage to speak, though the younger man eventually did. He was aware of his reputation, and to uphold it might have required not giving Danny the time of day, let alone the opportunity to apologize. Still…

"You don’t have to fucking do anything for me. It’s not like you meant to leave me in a burning building."

Delivered unironically, Ryan only realized what he had said a moment later. Were he more sensitive, he might’ve apologized, but instead he continued, mostly because he didn’t know how to - and it was his moment anyway, right?

"Dammit, I accept it. I still want some answers, though."

No, that sounded demanding. He was still angry. Ryan pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, mostly at himself. “Come on inside. I swear I won’t kill you, unless you have a goddamn allergy to tea or something.”

Wow, this was going great. He dealt with other people with ease, so why did speaking with Daniel make him second guess everything?

[adamantarcher]

Daniel grimaced at what Ryan said, but the guilt that came with his statement was softened by the fact that, apparently, Ryan didn't actually intend to turn him away.

Yet.

Alright. That was good. His apology had been accepted. That didn't mean he could call this a victory and move on, because there was still the very real chance of messing it all up, but at least he was making some headway. An accepted apology was about a thousand times better than a rejected one when it came to repairing relationships anyway.

"Answers. I can do answers," he said, trying but failing to mask how much better he already felt. He was a little bit nervous at the prospect of entering Ryan's apartment--what did a guy like Ryan live like, anyway? And was this all actually an elaborate setup to horribly maim Daniel as retribution for his crime and he was really walking into a trap?

Despite his own betrayal and the damage that came with it, however, he still trusted Ryan, and that trust guided his footsteps as he crossed the threshold into the house.

It was... plain. Daniel wasn't sure what he'd expected. It made sense in a way, but then again, it didn't. Ryan wasn't a dull person by any means, and the apartment certainly was, but he also seemed like the kind of person who saw little need for many personal effects.

"No tea allergies." He stood just within the doorway, unsure of what to do next. Was Ryan just going to... make tea? Was that a thing that happened when you recapped the horrors of war, mob or otherwise? And was he just supposed to start talking or what?

He was way out of his depth here.

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

[firestarter-sharpe]

Just an apology.

Huh. At least he hadn’t stuttered, something Ryan felt an entirely unwanted tinge of pride at. No, he was pissed off at the little shit. Leaving him in a burning hotel like that. Who would do that to someone they trusted? And Ryan did trust Daniel, right? He had let him take charge at one point, and for someone who had to be in control all the time, that was no big thing.

Not that Daniel knew that, nor did Ryan expect him to. He knew he was pretty shitty when it came to talking about himself. Explaining the intricacies of math or shit would probably be easier than trying to explain himself to anyone. Less painful as well.

"Well, go ahead an apologize then."

Isabella would’ve let it go at that. Letha, too. But Ryan wasn’t nearly as magnanimous as either of them, and he merely leaned back against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for an apology to come. It occurred to him that if Danny were to actually go through with it, it would probably be the first time anyone had bothered to apologize to him in…well, it was probably years. Ryan neither gave mercy nor expected any usually.

It was pretty damn hard to keep his calm, and admittedly if it was anyone but Danny (who he knew wouldn’t push hard) in front of him, he would’ve cracked. Then again, who else but Danny would bother to apologize?

[adamantarcher]

He wasn't staring at wood right now, so that was a positive thing, right?

And Ryan seemed at least willing to listen. He still looked about ready to just walk away from the whole damn thing, but Daniel was making progress, and that was good. Maybe with time he could make it up to Ryan somehow.

Now he had to get to the actual apology. Right.

What was he supposed to say? What was the best thing to say? He felt a little lost; he'd never really done something like this before. Then again, he was fairly certain he'd never messed up quite so badly as he had with Ryan, either. Well, you learned something new every day...

"I shouldn't have left you like th-that," he began nervously, "no--no matter what the circumstances. I should have m-made sure you were okay. So I'm sorry." He'd finally managed to muster up the courage to look Ryan in the eye at that, holding his gaze steadfastly even though he wanted to look away with pretty much every bone in his body.

"I get if you just want me to go, 'cause I deserve it, but... if th-there's anything I can do to make it up to you, tell me. I'll--I'll try my best."

Now that was a dangerous statement to make. What if Ryan was like, say, "hey, why don't you go kill a guy for me?" What if he needed to do something terrible to make up for the crime he'd committed against Ryan?

He was just going to have to figure that out as he went along.

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

[firestarter-sharpe]

Ryan Sharpe sat at the small table for two in his kitchen, drinking the same type of goddamn tea out of the same goddamn cup on the same goddamn side of the table he always placed himself at. Sometimes he wondered what people thought he did when he was home alone, but then he didn’t want anyone to ask because then he’d have to make up some other shit to cover up stuff like this: which was why when he heard a knock on the door, he scowled and waited for a good thirty seconds before he actually went to answer.

"If it’s you goddamn girls selling cookies again, I’m going to - "

Opening the door, he found it was indeed not a bunch of little girls awaiting him. No, it was Danny - Daniel, he corrected himself. Ryan had checked his contacts to make sure the kid was alright, but bitter feelings had prevented him from doing much more than that. This would be the first time they had talked since the fire. 

"Oh, they just give out my address to anyone these days or are you trying to sell me something?"

His tone was somewhat biting, his gaze unflinching. Ryan was not exactly pleased with what had gone down, and he wasn’t going to hide it. Maybe. Ryan was still navigating the waters of getting along with people who maybe weren’t as shitty as he was, and everything he said or did right now had a conscious effort behind it.

[adamantarcher]

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Daniel's general terror at Ryan's existence had faded somewhat over the course of their relationship; he still felt twinges of it sometimes, sure, but for the most part it had died down to a dull kind of apprehension. He had learned to trust Ryan, at least, and with trust came some modicum of comfort, however small.

His fear was now back in full force.

Ryan didn't look pleased to see him, that was for sure. At the sight of him, Daniel very strongly considered just turning around and leaving like nothing had ever happened, like he hadn't been there at all.

Or maybe he could masquerade as an actual girl scout. Yeah, that could work. He could act like he was just here to sell cookies, put on a sunshiny face and act like he wasn't the same person who'd abandoned Ryan in a burning apartment--

Yeah, fat chance.

He had to face what he'd done head-on: there was no other way to make it right. He had to apologize. Even if Ryan rejected it, even if he slammed the door in Daniel's face, he still had to try. Then he could at least say he'd reached out, and if Ryan reacted less-than-ideally, well, he deserved it, didn't he?

"Just an apology," he finally mumbled in response, breaking Ryan's gaze because he was pretty sure it would actually blind him with hatred if he held it long enough.

[adamantarcher]

❀ actual flower queen letha garland ❀

[adamantarcher]

Loose Ends [Daniel & Ryan]

Daniel was having to have a lot of hard conversations lately.

It wasn't like he wanted to. Things had just... happened that way. He didn't like it one bit, but that was a part of being responsible, he supposed. Things had gotten screwed up; he needed to set them right.

That included the kind of massive betrayal that Ryan had suffered at his hands.

Normally Daniel would never have abandoned someone in the thick of a crisis the way he had Ryan, but when he'd seen Colin get shot, something had just--snapped in his brain, the rational part, the part that told him that he needed to look out for people who helped him.

Ryan deserved an apology, and that was why he was currently standing at the foot of the stairs that led up to Ryan's apartment. Normally he didn't smoke much, and especially not for the express purpose of calming himself, but he did now. He tried to draw it out for as long as he could, taking short drags, but when he finally crushed the cigarette into the ground beneath his heel, he knew it was time to face this next hard conversation.

Forcing his step to be confident, he strode up the steps to Ryan's door and knocked.

Hopefully he didn't get a door in the face.

[adamantarcher]

Don't Panic [Daniel & Francesca]

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Daniel hovered in front of the door to Francesca's office with trepidation. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his breathing shallower than usual.

He was about two seconds away from turning around and leaving.

But he'd waited almost an hour to get some time with her, and for the entirety of that time he'd had to deal with Benny's intermittent pleasantries and trying to find something interesting in a stack of outdated newspapers, preferably something that wasn't about the mob. Neither had worked to lessen his nerves.

And now Benny had told him he could go in, and dammit, he wasn't ready. What if Francesca perceived what he asked for as a demand? What if she laughed and kicked him out? Or worse yet, what if she got angry?

All those possibilities seemed so real, and Daniel could think of another hundred ways that this could go wrong at the drop of a hat.

You've got to do this, he told himself, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. You don't have a choice.

Telling himself that he didn't have a choice in the matter helped a little, but only marginally. Still, the longer he stood here, the more he looked like an idiot to Benny, so he really should just go in and get it over with.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like Francesca could have him shot or something.

Actually, she probably could. She definitely could.

Before he could think about that too much, however, he forced himself to turn the door handle, letting himself in.

And there she was.

He smiled uneasily, taking a seat on the side of the desk closest to him.

"I w-wanted to talk to you about--Colin. Colin Flanagan?" Did she even know who Colin was? Did she know the names of the people who worked under her, or did she not care? Was she going to care about any of this?

God, he should have just talked to Victor. Victor terrified him too, sure, but at least they'd spoken before. Daniel had experience with him, if only a little. That would have made this so much easier.

"He, uh--he got hurt during th-the bombing. And I'm concerned about... his future. And I, I th-thought you might be able to help."

[adamantarcher]

Mr. Macini in the Study With the Revolver [Daniel & Stella]

[stellarussell]

There was a rumor that he got involved with the mob.

Now, that was certainly interesting. Stella couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. Despite momentarily losing her composure, she collected herself quickly—hopefully in time for Daniel not to notice the slight change in her demeanor.

She hadn’t known Elliot well, but to an outsider he didn’t exactly seem like the type of person who’d get involved with the Lombardi. Then again, it was a Lombardi mobster, albeit a jittery, soft-spoken one, who was asking her to find him, so there had to be at least some sort of connection there. Not to mention Elliot wouldn’t be the first good person to end up running with the wrong crowd.

A thought of Vincent briefly crossed her mind, before she turned her attention back to the case at hand.

If James Elliot really had gotten himself tangled up in mob business, that could be an explanation for his changed behavior during their conversation. On the other hand, it could also be a potential reason for his sudden disappearance. Either he’d gotten himself killed, or tried to get away from it by leaving Chicago.

Sadly, that would also complicate matters for her. If her previous encounters with Victor Madison were any indication, the Lombardi kept their secrets locked up tight.

Getting information about Elliot’s possible involvement with them wouldn’t be a walk it the park.

“The apartment is a good start,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “I’m assuming the police have already taken a look at it, but they’re not exactly known for being thorough. Hopefully I’ll be able to find something they missed.”

A slight bitterness seeped through her words when she mentioned the police, and she hastily cleared her throat. “I’ll have to look into the rumors, too, but I’m not too certain how much I can find out as an outsider. If it is true, there is a slight possibility the news won’t be good.”

[adamantarcher]

Daniel resisted the urge to squirm when faced with Stella's scrutiny. He wasn't sure she believed him, but luckily she took the case anyway, which meant one of two things: either she didn't think him as much of a liar as she briefly seemed to or she was bored enough to need the entertainment.

Either way she'd taken the case, which was a start. He actually felt some strange sense of kinship at her disdain for the police; their incompetence, it seemed, was not limited only to mob dealings. This was bad for the city, but certainly good for Stella, as the apartment's evidence would probably still be intact.

Unless, of course, the police had tampered so much that they'd destroyed what little evidence there was.

But he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about resolution, about getting answers, and so he once again focused all his attention on Stella, listening to her without a word as she spoke.

"Bad news is better th-than no news," he supplied, surprised at how true the statement was for him once he'd said it. All he wanted was some kind of narrative to put together, something that told him of how Elliot had met his demise--or run away--whatever. He just needed to put the story to rest.

"I can ask around with th-the Lombardi, but I can't guarantee anything." Something in his stomach jumped nervously at that. Inside the mob it was easier to gain information than outside, but they still didn't like it when people asked questions at best. At worst, people died over answers they weren't supposed to be seeking. It would be a risky business, trying to find out what happened, but it seemed worth it for the dignity of his--what, friend? He wasn't sure.

Whatever the case might have been, taking minor risks was a part of getting answers, and if Stella could do it on the regular, he could do it just once, right?

[adamantarcher]

déjà vu [Daniel & Colin]

[colin-flanagan-blog]

Colin’s eyes never left Daniel, the best friend that he had given up a chance at heaven for. When he had made that choice, he didn’t realize what he would come back to. He had no way of knowing that his mind would be broken. He didn’t know that his final memories would be of choosing a land so fraught with heartache that he was sure God wept for it and yet so full of potential that even the wisest of men could not say how much there was to come.

When he closed his eyes next, when he gave up on the land of the waking, he would be giving up his choice. Every night, every single damn night, he would lose himself. He would lose his present day, truly and utterly forced to live in the past for the rest of his life. His only hope of salvation came in the form of his best-and as it seemed at the moment-only friend.

His whole life, he’d been exposed to a simple truth. 

No one wanted him.

Abandoned on a doorstep with less than a name from his parents, raised by priests who considered him an object more than a child, forced to learn how to rely only on himself for every moment he’d known for so long. By the time he was twelve, he’d already accepted that truth. He was unwanted by any but himself and even occasionally he didn’t want himself.

He’d had brief connections, people he knew and spoke with and perhaps drank with, but nothing strong. No one that would mourn his passing with more than another drink. No one that wondered about him or worried about him. Just people who’d buy him a drink.

When he’d first come to America, he wasn’t looking for a future. At least not the kind that needed other people. He wanted to maybe make a name for himself, a reason for the world to make a bang when he left. He wasn’t wanting friends or a family; those things seemed so foreign to him that he was certain that he wouldn’t recognize them even if they did find him.

But, as walled up and hollow as his heart seemed to feel sometimes, he had found it. He’d found people to trust, found people to believe in, found people who cared. He’d found a man who would die to save him, even though he had been entirely certain that that was nothing but a fairytale.

Now, in this very moment of panic and terror that made him ache down to his very bones, he came to find that he discovered another truth. A truth that would have seemed like insanity to a younger him. Something that he’d never known before.

He was wanted.

His own hazel eyes met Daniel’s bright blue ones, hope cracking through the mask of fear that seemed to have settled across his expression.

"Thank you…Daniel. Thank you."

[adamantarcher]

Daniel was suffocating under the weight of Colin's stare, the way he looked so--so helpless, like Daniel was the only hope he had left.

But what if he was? What if Colin really didn't have anybody else? If Daniel fucked this up and something happened to Colin, would it be his fault and his fault alone? Was there really no one else?

The thought was terrifying.

He just had to hold on to the possibility that Francesca could help with this, at least protect Colin for a little while. It would all be so much easier with the mob at his back.

Right. Right. Okay. So he'd make an appointment with Francesca, tell her about the situation. Why would she refuse to help? Colin had gotten shot in the defense of the Lombardi, after all, during a mob-related incident. Surely that deserved some kind of recognition.

Yeah. He could do that. He could talk to her. That was fine.

He still wasn't sure how to respond to Colin's gratitude, though. It was too powerful to face head on, and in the end Daniel had to divert his eyes.

"I--I'm going to talk to Francesca, see if she can help. I'll be back soon, alright? And if you forget again, we can--we'll go over everything again. We'll come up with a s-system. Everything's going to work out."

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Colin.

It was with a heavy heart and a tight jaw that he left Colin's hospital room, though he was reluctant to leave Colin alone.

Leaving is for Colin's own good, he told himself repeatedly, and as he exited the hospital and got in his car, he was able to make himself believe it.

[adamantarcher]

déjà vu [Daniel & Colin]

[colin-flanagan-blog]

Colin’s heart hammered in his chest, so hard that he feared his ribs might crack under the pressure. He wanted to fight, to yell and scream and deny what he was told and what he was feeling because he didn’t want to face weakness. He didn’t want to face an enemy that he couldn’t fight with his hands. It was the hardest thing for him, knowing that his own mind was the thing that was going against him.

Time. It would take time to figure how how bad it was. Colin felt like he didn’t have time. If this memory loss didn’t go away, he wouldn’t have time. Any time that he did have would be gone as soon as he had it and the though rocked through him like a tidal wave. 

How bad would it even be? Would he forget everything? What if something important happened? What if someone died? What if he fell in love?

Would he wake up the next day still caught in the trauma of near death, needing someone else to remind him that life moved on?

He had so many questions burning in his mind. What if he couldn’t function? What if they decided he was too messed up in head and locked him up? No. No, they wouldn’t lock him up. They couldn’t. If they tried-his wide eyes focused on the man before him-Daniel would defend him.

He would, wouldn’t he?

"You’ll…please…" Colin trailed off as he tried to formulate an answer to Daniel offer, unused to having to accept help. He didn’t want to be weak, didn’t want to seem like he couldn’t handle his own problems, but it didn’t seem like he could face it alone as he had done with everything else in his life. He needed someone, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and the person he trusted most in the whole world was Daniel. 

He needed Daniel.

[adamantarcher]

Daniel felt Colin's gaze burning into him and he looked away; he wasn't strong enough to meet it. He wasn't strong enough for any of this, and yet here he was, posture resolute as he tried his best to withstand the waves of panic coming his way from Colin's direction.

"I w-won't let anything happen to you alright?" he said, his voice strained and tight. He wasn't sure what, exactly, Colin expected from him, so he simply said what he expected from himself.

"I'll look after you. W-When everything checks out and you're released, I'll--I'll stay at your apartment for a while or something. We'll set up a system so you'll be okay. I won't--I won't let th-them commit you."

The thought was a scary one. That was what happened to people like Colin, right? People who couldn't take care of themselves? Their families sent them away because they didn't really have anything else they could do.

Colin didn't have a family, though, as far as Daniel knew. Did that mean he counted as family? He was the closest person to Colin, right?

And in Chicago, the mob counted as family, too. Daniel wasn't exactly integral to the Lombardi, but he was certain he could call upon his fellow mobsters to help him out. Colin was a valued member of the mob--more than he was, certainly. Surely there would be people willing to help with this situation, right?

So neither of them was alone. That was good. That was very good.

He already felt a little better about it, though a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that it wouldn't be quite so simple. Still, it gave him the resolve to meet Colin's eyes again, his own expression stony:

"We're going to figure th-this out."