you make me { f e e l } again // Geebs

[Stare]

i wouldn't if i were you
i know what she can do
she's deadly, man
she could really rip your world apart

She took sanctuary in a run-down pub near the edge of the district. It was stark contrast to the refined, neat bar where she had first met Benedict. The tables were wooden and crooked with a thin layer of grease on top, the floor was made slippery by spilled alcohol and vomit that no one bothered to mop up, and several pudgy men were slumped over snoring (most in their chairs, some on the ground). Those who were awake were loud and had rather colorful vocabularies while barely dressed waitresses wove between them with knowing smiles on their faces.

It wasn’t her favorite place, not by far, but it was as far away from the place they had agreed to meet as she could possibly get. Her eyes fluttered closed and suddenly she was back in his office, his note crumpled up in one hand as she’d narrowed her eyes at him from across the room. She’d thought that one night had been the end of things between them and had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t regret not seeing him, but in that moment she’d realized he’d managed to worm his way farther past her defenses than she was willing to admit. ”I have a job for you. Will you do it or not?” A hint of doubt that was forgotten in their exchange of banter. A taunt on his part. She hadn’t been able to resist. ”You’re lucky you’re rich. I’ll do it.”

She scoffed at the memory, eyes glittering in the shadows of where her stool stood at the far end of the bar. She should have ripped that note to shreds the moment she’d received it. She should have refused when he offered her the job. But he was Benedict Nolan, so of course she couldn’t turn down the challenge. Of course she had to prove her skills to him, if only to show him that she was good at what she did. Good at being heartless, cold, calculating. The person she’d been told to tail was a mountain of a man but it hadn’t bothered her - the bigger they were, the harder they fell, or so she’d been told. Benedict’s suspicions about the man stealing money from him had been correct, not that she’d been surprised (though, in all honesty, she’d almost been wishing he was wrong so she could rub his paranoia in his face). She’d done what she was told, digging into his life, his past, his secrets. She’d turned him inside-out without even touching him. And, when she had what she needed, she’d approached him in a nice, public place where he couldn’t beat her to a pulp.

He’d tried to deny it. He’d offered to pay her, threatened to hurt her, tried to sweet talk her. At that point she’d simply smiled, loving the way he squirmed, and told him she could easily go to his boss with the information. And then he’d done something she hadn’t been expecting.

He’d hit her.

Her fingers carefully brushed over her face, where a bruise painted her slightly swollen cheekbone dark. She could almost still taste the blood in her mouth. He’d been strong, and the impact had rattled her teeth. It didn’t matter, of course - she still had his secrets, and she was supposed to meet Benedict that night to discuss her plan of action. She couldn’t, though. Not with the evidence of her mistake right there on her face.

“That’s some shiner you got there. Get into a fight with yer boyfriend?” The bartender approached her, eyes not quite sympathetic.

Normally she would have a quick retort, but her bruise throbbed painfully whenever she spoke and she wasn’t in the mood, so instead she just muttered, “Something like that.”

“Can I get you sumfin’? Might help with the pain.”

“Just water.” The bartender’s eyebrows rose but he said nothing.

Then, suddenly, the door opened and somehow, without even turning around, she knew. Between the pain in her face and the headache blooming in her left temple she felt like she’d rather crawl into a hole and die than face the man she knew was no doubt approaching her. She raised her hand to catch the bartender’s attention, knowing with certainty that Benedict had already spotted her and it was too late to make a fast escape. She might have scowled if she’d thought it wouldn’t hurt more than it was worth. “On second thought,” she said, “give me something strong.”

The bartender was smart enough to be gone by the time he finally reached her. Alicia didn’t dare spare him a glance, instead pulling the hair down on the side of her face in an attempt to hide the bruise there. She hoped it looked more like she was trying to block him out. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought I made it very clear that I didn’t want to see you when I specifically avoided our meeting tonight.”

[sbeeg]

She's blackening my name
My army never came
It's water under the bridge
Be careful who you tell

It was only three minutes after your scheduled meeting time that you gave up on her. A girl like her would get the unpleasant over with- be punctual and then get the hell out. You tried to tell yourself she was not going to come but you held onto your hope. Face it, you just really wanted to see her. Pathetic little Benny waiting around in a bar for the girl who could pull his heartstrings just the right way to make the pain feel good. After downing the rest of your drink, you started out the door wandering back home. It was a warm night and the Games would soon come to an end. All your bets at the Penny Run house was on the Leon boy and at the Record Maker club they were on Baitwell. Call it security or paranoia, but it did you well in the past. Paranoid... now that was something you had been feeling quite a lot lately. Thin fingers fiddled with an unlit cigarette as you debated been two courses of action. You could go home and consider your deal with the girl terminated, or you could go out and find her. After all she was pretty keen on your money, so why not follow through with the job? All there was left to do was collect because there was no way she did not get her hands on the information. What was holding her back?

The only question was, where would she be? Not her house, she would know you would check there. She'd probably be at the farthest end of District Nine from where you stood...

Twenty minutes later, Benedict Nolan all dressed up in your usual evening suit was peeking into bars on the wrong side of the tracks. District Nine had a wealthier class of citizens but their poor were dirt poor and it showed. Each pub had maybe a single light flickering above the bar and a bunch of large looking fellows slurping down moonshine. Any other yuppie would have been frightened, not you. You had a single thought on your mind and no glares or threatening grunts would deter you from your mission.

Finally, you found her. She made a fine figure at the bar, and even though you could not see her face from the doorway you knew it was her. It was not so much as her features but the energy she gave off. You do not find many people in this part of town that radiate confidence the way she does. But she was slumped over a bit, pulling her hair in front of her face as if that would hide her from your gaze. It would take more than a curtain of hair to hide the magnificence of Alicia Klare.

Starting over to her, you could feel the eyes inspecting your suit but they did not matter now. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought I made it very clear that I didn’t want to see you when I specifically avoided our meeting tonight.” She did not even give you a glance. Not even to scowl at you. What exactly was going on?

"I think we both know each other better than that," you chuckle. Since when do you laugh when business was involved? You're acting like a fool, Benedict. A stupid fool. You itched to touch her- a hand on the shoulder, fingers in her hair, or lips to lips. All of that was out of bounds and you knew it but you could at least be able to see her face. It had been a while since your last meeting and you were starved of her.

Gently, as not to raise her suspicions, you pushed her hair behind her ear revealing not the piercing eyes and cocky smirk you expected but a swollen and bruised up cheekbone. You were frozen, only able to stare silently as you took in her injury and how it must have happened.

Hinebuckle, the mark, he hit her. You sent her in and she got hurt.

There was a feeling that washed over you like no other you had experienced before. You wanted to touch her, yes, but not in the same way as before. Your arms yearned to hold her and just have her close. To protect her in your embrace and take her out of this shit hole of a bar. You wanted to... to apologize. Yet none of that was possible, not now.

"Alicia-" you started off, concerned and soft. She wouldn't accept your pity, you knew that and you bit your tongue to cut off the words. Instead, you turned to your next strongest feeling in that moment: anger. "I'll kill him, I'll kill him myself."

[Stare]

staring into the dark
scared to go back to the start
i'll hurt and you will heal
nothingness is all i feel

She knew as soon as he spoke that he suspected something, and even as dread coursed through her she felt a small thrill at the sound of his voice. His proximity made her nervous for all the wrong reasons, her lips pressing together tightly as she tried to casually tilt her face farther away from him even as she felt that annoyingly familiar tug in her chest, like a magnetic pull toward him. She vaguely wondered how he’d found her - and why, for that matter, though she didn’t dare pursue thoughts that she knew would lead to treacherous waters all too quickly - but quickly dismissed the thought. Benedict Nolan had his ways just as she had hers. She wanted to be annoyed, angry, cold, distant. Instead she was silent. He was clever and arrogant and drove her absolutely crazy, and maybe that was why she couldn’t treat him like the others no matter how hard she tried.

When she didn’t reply she sensed him reaching for her and her jaw tightened. Leave it to Benedict to spot a weakness a mile away. If it had been anyone else Alicia would have slapped their hand away with a snarl, but the very thought of doing that to him seemed childish and excessive. Instead she remained still, not even glancing in his direction. Her eyes fell closed and she released a quiet, tired sigh as warm fingers pushed her hair back. Everything stilled, making her feel vulnerable and guarded all at once. A few beats of silence passed. She tensed, waiting for him to mock her.

He didn’t. Her name was spoken quietly, gently, and she felt herself inwardly shy away. The only people who were ever gentle with her anymore were her parents, and that was because they didn’t know what she truly was. Sometimes, when she had nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she worried about them. It was a secret that she kept well - Alicia Klare, blackmailer and reporter, still lived with her parents. Even worse, they adored her. They thought she was a sweetheart. They always bragged about how often she spent her time with “friends”, not knowing any better. Sometimes she felt guilty. She’d gotten used to lying to them, though. Had gotten used to lying to everyone, really, even herself.

And then she’d stumbled upon Benedict.

“I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him myself.”

Her stomach twisted at the words. Did he realize what he was saying? What he was implying? They were always so careful around each other, never revealing anything, and there he was throwing that caution to the wind. She turned her face away from him again but let the hair stay where it was, tucked behind her ear. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to go through him pulling it back a second time. She hadn’t wanted to be a damsel in distress since she was eleven years old and still thought the world was a good place, but somehow, so close to him with his anger so apparent, she found herself wanting nothing more than to be saved by someone else for a change. By him. And that, that scared her like nothing else.

“No you won’t.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. She was bitter and confused and tired but she managed to slip back into business easily, her expression going neutral as the bartender approached her with her glass. She eyed it warily. Why was it that she always ended up drinking when he was around? When the man set it down in front of her she jerked her head in Benedict’s direction. “Might as well make it two.”

She took a sip of the drink, appalled by the taste but not the way it made her stomach warm, and turned toward him slowly. She could still feel her cheekbone throbbing and it made her want to blush, to hide her face away, but instead she tilted her chin proudly. She was beaten but never broken. At the sight of him a smirk tugged at the corner of her lip without her permission. “What is it with you and death threats?” Almost immediately she regretted the words, flashing back to the first time he’d threatened her, his lips ghosting over her skin. She actually did flush then and hated herself for it. Keeping her voice indifferent, she continued. “It’s not like this is the first time something like this has happened. Besides, it was my own damn fault.” She paused, took another sip, and tried to center her thoughts. Tried to make things more formal, more cold, more distant. Business. It was always business with Benedict.

Except, of course, for when it wasn’t.

“And keep your voice down.” She glanced around the bar. He was earning more than a handful of stares from those in the bar, everyone taking in his suit and clean appearance. She’d opted to blend in herself, with torn shorts and a somewhat stained tank top. There were would be no pretty dresses, not that night. They contrasted each other enough to draw unwanted attention, gazes ranging from curious to dangerous. What was Benedict Nolan doing in a bar like that talking to a girl like her? She honestly couldn’t blame them for wondering, as she was asking herself the same question. She narrowed her eyes at a group of men who looked more interested in stealing his suit than questioning it. Just because she didn’t have dirt on them then didn’t mean she couldn’t get it.

“You may be fine with ruining your reputation, but if all of District Nine finds out that we’re…” What were they? She honestly didn’t even know. She abruptly chose a new angle. “If people think I can’t take care of myself, they won’t hire me.” The second glass arrived. “It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine, though I’m not really sure why you care.” She took a deep swig out of her own glass. “And if you even think about trying to tell people you’re getting payback for someone damaging your property I’ll make your life a living hell before you can lay a finger on him, understand?”