Fear or Freedom?

[Lana Stanton]

Wish this bitch would hurry up... it's fucking cold out here.

He trailed behind her, keeping roughly a twenty foot pace behind to avoid calling attention to himself. Emerald orbs focused on the back of her head, then lower, admiring the curves of her body as she moved. His lips curled into a snarl around the filter of a lit cigarette, eyes narrowing as she stopped--again--to respond to a message on her phone.

For fuck's sake...

He exhaled, smoke swirling around his head before dissipating. He turned, glancing into the window of the nearby shop and lazily ashed his cigarette into the street. The phone in his pocket buzzed. The woman was on the move again and he slowed his pace, allowing for a little more distance between them before he swiped up on the screen.

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the ambient noise of the area was enough to mask his words. "Yeah, still got eyes on her. Taking her sweet fucking time to get back, too." A pause, nodding. "I know. She hasn't noticed. I don't know who the guy was, yet, no. Some freak in a wheelchair. They came out of the pub, man, I don't know. I watched all night, they never left." He took another drag of his cigarette, offering a few half-listening "mhmms" to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Don't worry about it, we're close to the inn now. I've gotta go." He tapped the end call button before flicking his cigarette butt onto the cobblestone.

For a moment he considered his options. His boss wanted her, alive. But it wouldn't take more than a few seconds to catch up to her, to wrap his hands around her throat. It was early, and there was little movement in streets. Just the occasional patron who paid him no mind. The only person she'd made any real contact with was the idiot in the wheelchair, he thought to himself. Nobody would notice she was gone, and if they did, they wouldn't give a fuck. Could just tell the boss I lost her.

He tugged at his coat, mumbling softly to himself about the cold as Lana turned the corner to the inn. He moved quickly now, cutting off the street and behind the building to the back doors. He paused to give her a few minutes to cross the inn and head up the stairs before he quickly tugged the door open and stepped inside.

She was tapping away at the screen on her phone, back turned to the bar as she headed up the stairs. He had been in this bar more times than he could count over the years, knew every squeaky board to avoid as he moved to the bottom of the stairs. His phone was in his hand now, pointing directly at her. He zoomed in, a cruel grin stretching across his scarred face. He snapped a few pictures of her as she unlocked her room's door and slipped inside. The images were attached to a hastily typed message to his boss before he stared longingly up the stairs, deciding the consequences for killing her now outweighed the thrill.

On his way back out the door, he snatched a bottle of cheap rum from the bar, twisting and flicking the lid off and onto the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ding.

Lana stepped off to the side of the street, hands hastily digging into the pockets of her coat. Tapping on the screen, she opened the message and smiled. It was Alik, checking to see if she had made it home yet.

Hey! I'm just a few minutes away now. Thanks again for offering to take me home... really just wanted to get some fresh air.

She felt a little guilty for not telling him she was staying at the inn. In hindsight, it seemed like such a silly thing to be embarrassed about. A sigh escaped her lips. I'll tell him next time I see him, doesn't make any sense to hide it from him at this point. The pair exchanged a few more messages between them before she started moving again. She slipped her hands into her pockets before tugging the cowl of her coat over her head. The walk back to the inn really wouldn't have been too bad if not for the cold. Actually, a car ride would have actually been pretty nice.

She turned the corner just as her phone dinged again. Glancing at her screen, she giggled, typing out a few sentences as she made her way up the stairs and into the front door of the inn. She unbuttoned her coat, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the inn before her nose scrunched up in disgust. It stills smells like fish in here...

The bar was empty but she wasn't surprised; it was still relatively early. She made her way up the stairs, eyes glued to her phone's screen and completely unaware of anything going on around (or behind) her. When she reached her door, she fished the key to the room out of her pocket and stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. It took her just a few seconds to slip out of her coat and toss it on the foot of the bed before plopping down beside it. She sighed breathlessly, smiling at the ceiling.

[Lana Stanton]

"Lana! Over here!"

Half-lidded blues darted in the direction of the voice as a warm smile spread across her face. Lana waved, weaving through the crowd towards the tall, lanky man who was waving her down. She took one last drag of a hastily rolled joint before extinguishing it on the heel of her boot, tossing it into her coat pocket. The hell hound that followed closely alongside her huffed softly, taking a quick look behind the pair before focusing on the man who had taken a few slow steps towards them. His arms were spread wide and Lana happily accepted that hug, squeezing tightly for a moment or two before stepping back with a grin.

"It's been far too long, Cal." She paused, eyes studying him. Lana couldn't place quite how long it had been since she'd seen Cal; his face looked more worn than she'd recalled, framed by stringy dirty blonde hair he had lazily pulled back into an elastic. "You look like shit, man." She at least attempted to stifle her laughter as he scowled at her.

He shrugged his shoulders, chuckling softly. "Things got a little hectic after you up and *disappeared*. Leaving me behind to run my own shit? Rude." He tugged the door to the inn open, propping it open to let Lana and her companion move inside and out of the bitter cold. Lana sighed, her nose scrunching up in annoyance.

"After all these years, you should have known better than to think I would just disappear without saying a fucking word. Use your head." Her tone had quickly shifted, that glare piercing. He waved it away, grumbling softly to himself for a moment and letting the door click shut behind him.

Cal helped her slip out of her coat, hanging it up along side his before ushering her to a booth in the far back corner. Waiting at the table was a top-shelf bottle of bourbon and two glasses, frosted over with ice. They both slipped into the booth quietly, sitting across from each other while Tank settled on the floor beside them and facing the direction of the doors.

"Listen Lana, I'm sorry, okay? I don't really know what else you expected. I'm still a little bitter, sue me." A pause, pouring the bourbon into both glasses before lifting his to his lips. "Would've been nice to hear that you were alive from, you know, you." He leaned back in his seat, gaze meeting hers.

Lana leaned forward with her elbows on the table. The flash of anger in her eyes quickly dissipated, her eyes lowering to the glass in her hands. It took her a few minutes to finally respond, her voice low and even. "I know. I'm *sorry*. If I could have given you any warning I would have, you know that." Sip. "I was going to reach out as soon as I got settled bu-".

"You were too busy running around with that new boyfriend of yours, I get it."

She felt the heat rise into her cheeks, hands gripping at her glass now. "That's a low fucking blow, coming from you." It took everything in her not to chuck that glass directly at his head. Her eyes closed as she calmed herself, finally shaking her head. "This isn't what I called you for. It's been years and I'm not interested in fighting over shit that is better off left alone. We both fucked up." There was a hint of finality in her tone, and Cal sighed, nodding his head.

"You're right. I know. Sorry." He cleared his throat, pouring himself another round. "What the fuck happened to you, Lana? It was like you'd been wiped off the map entirely. I'd heard a few rumors about the night you disappeared but none of them made any sense..." He trailed off. Lana was quietly glancing off to the side, swirling the bourbon in her glass. He gave her a few moments, a brow quirking as he leaned forward. His voice lowered to a near whisper. "It was him, wasn't it. Didn't I fucking warn you?" The uncomfortable silence was enough of an answer. Cal's expression softened, his hand reaching out to touch her arm gently.

Lana would pull away from that touch as she shot him a pained look. "You don't need to remind me. I've paid more than enough for my stupidity, you rubbing it in my face isn't going to change anything." She'd pause to drain her glass, sliding it back across the table towards the bottle. "None of it matters, though. He's dead. I handled it, like I always do."

"So if it's handled, why call me?" He'd seen right through her. Cal crossed his arms, glowering at her. Despite everything, she was just as fucking stubborn as ever.

She mulled over her words for a moment, watching him refill her glass. "I need information." A pause to sip. "Someone in Rhy'din is targeting me and my gut is telling me that it has something to do with him. Whoever it is, they sent a picture of me heading into my inn room a few days after I'd been back. I imagine you weren't the only one interested in my return."

Cal studied her thoughtfully as she spoke, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up and into the rafters of the inn while he considered her words. Finally he nodded, rubbing his face with his palm. "I'll put some of my people on it. It is my understanding that you already have some help, at least. A cop, Lana? Really?"

"Jackson is safe, Cal." She motioned at the hell hound lying quietly by their feet. "He left Tank with me for protection, even. I owe both him and Alik for everything they've done to keep me out of harms way." She paused, biting her lip. "Anyway... I was hoping you could see if any of his goons were still kicking it around Rhy'din. Find out where the others ended up, who they're working for now. They're the only connections I can think of that would have a reason to find me."

The spent cigarette was discarded into the ash tray, a thin trail of smoke twisting and swirling from the end before it finally went out. Cal sighed, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table. "Done. I'll call you once I get a list together. Don't know how long it'll take but I'll get it figured out. In the meantime... I need you to be careful. The cop is whatever, fine. You probably know what you're doing there. But that Alik guy? Don't know him personally but I've heard enough to know that he's trouble."

Without missing a beat, Lana interrupted him. "Alik is none of your concern. End of story." There was that stubbornness again, hostile and defensive. Cal sighed deeply and moved to stand, draining his glass a final time and tossing some coin onto the table. He needed to leave before he said something he would regret later.

"Just... don't get yourself caught again. Or worse. Okay? That's all I ask. I have to go make some calls, see if I can get you those names. I'll be in touch." He reached down to squeeze her shoulder, offering a small smile before heading towards the door. Her eyes would follow him, hand waving lazily in his direction before he slipped out the door. Lana would refill her glass a few more times before grabbing her coat and leaving herself, calling for Tank to follow, who whimpered softly and nudged her hand on their way out the door.

"That went... about as well as I expected it to." She laughed softly as the door closed behind her, falling silent as she glanced down the street. She tugged her cowl over her head and headed silently in the direction of home.

[Lana Stanton]

"The good news is, he told us where she's been staying. The bad news is... she's moved Murphy in, and the security he'd had for her seems to be back in full force. Had we known sooner, we could've made our move while she was unprotected. At this time it is unlikely we will be able to reach her directly. However, we have a new piece in play, thanks to our new friend."

Mikhailov grunted, eyeing the messenger sitting across from him as his lips found the bottle of his beer. He took a long, thoughtful pull, setting it down on the table with a soft thud of glass against wood. He'd never seen the same messenger more than twice, nor had he met the man who employed them all, himself included. "You must be paying him well, if he's willing to risk Alik learning of his betrayal." His voice was barely audible over the hum of low music and general bar chatter. Once he'd identified Murphy, it became immediately apparent that his involvement was a risk that made even Mikhailov uncomfortable. "New piece?"

The messenger, a young, bright eyed boy, sat calmly across from the trafficker, as if he were blissfully unaware of the monster coyly pouring alcohol down his gullet in front of him. He took a sip of his water calmly, watching Mikhailov over the rim of his glass and ignoring Mikhailov's observation. "Her sister, Cara. Seems she wasn't aware Lana was alive, let alone back in Rhy'din. It is recommended that you lie low, for now. Keep an eye on them, and when the time is right... we'll use Cara as leverage to lure Lana to us on her own." He paused, taking another sip of water and chewing on a small piece of ice. "Our contact suggested some conflict between the two; we'll want to let that simmer out to ensure Lana feels obligated to turn herself over to us, willingly and quietly."

Sitting back in the booth, Mikhailov put his hands behind his head and belched, loudly. The boy barely reacted, blinking only at the crude display while he awaited a response. Mikhailov closed his eyes, taking a drag off the cigarette that now hung at his lips, exhaling the spiraling smoke into the rafters above. "Alright... I suspect one of you will reach out when it's time to grab her?" He waved his hand in the boy's direction as he uttered that pointed you, referencing them broadly. This was the second visit from this particular messenger, and he knew the next one would likely be different. "That at least eliminates the Murphy aspect, at least until he realizes he's gone."

"Indeed, on both accounts. It is worth noting that you are to keep a close eye on both of them, while maintaining your anonymity. As previously mentioned, security is in full force again, and even more organized than what we saw with the Watch's involvement. I suspect that will die down as well, as long as you keep your presence hidden. Another member tailed Cara when she went to visit Lana a few days ago and overheard her mention that Lana and Alik will be leaving for an undisclosed amount of time--out of Rhy'din. Take that opportunity to gather whatever you can on the sister. She seems to be staying at The Anchor." The boy slid a piece of paper across the table, listing the addresses of both sisters, and some secondary information that didn't seem important enough to discuss currently. Mikhailov shoved it into the pocket of his denim jacket, throwing the rest of that beer back and sliding the empty bottle over to join the others that littered the table.

"Fair enough. If your contact shares any other information, I'd like reports on that. I'll send along whatever I scrape up on the sister." He rubbed that horribly scarred cheek with his palm, snarling as he continued. "Doesn't matter how long I have to wait... she's dead, no matter how long it takes." He pushed himself to stand, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving the messenger alone, unblinking, in silence... and with the bill.

[Lana Stanton]

Mikhailov did not belong here, and anyone who gave him more than a seconds glance could tell. Easily. In fact, he had already garnered the attention of a few bemused patrons who were snickering to themselves about his stained, ill-fitting jeans.

"Prick didn't mention a fuckin' dress code. This shit's too fancy for me." He grumbled to himself as he made his way to a table in the far back corner of the restaurant, keeping his head low. The table itself was closed off from the rest of the restaurant by tiled half-walls, lit only by dull yellow bulb screwed into a glass fixture above it, casting shadows on two faces patiently waiting for his arrival.

He slid into the finely upholstered wrap-around bench, glancing at the familiar face of the previous messenger boy he'd met with before. Mikhailov grunted, patting pockets in search of a crumpled pack of smokes. "Surprised to see your face again." He finally lit a cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke across the table and directly in the face of, he presumed, their rat.

Cal shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing back and forth between the Russian and the boy who had picked him up from his office earlier in the afternoon. Mikhailov was a monster, even by Cal's standards, and as far as he was concerned... the least amount of time he could spend anywhere near him would be far too much.

"Well, gentlemen. Thank you for joining me." The boy was the first to break the silence, lifting a champagne flute into the air and nodding at the both of them. "As I am sure you've guessed, Mikhailov, this is our new friend, Cal."

Mikhailov only grunted in the man's direction, taking another drag off his cigarette. Cal did not seem any more eager to speak, folding his hands on the table and lifting his glass of bourbon to his lips.

"Ah, well... you're both men of few words. Fair enough. I will begin, then." He took a sip of what appeared to be some sort of sparkling water, pausing to glance around the restaurant. "You two will be working together, closely, from here on out. Cal's priority will be the sister, Cara. Any relevant information will be communicated directly to you, and vice versa. Understand that any public meetings between the two of you need to be brief; we cannot risk Lana or Alik putting the pieces together before we are ready to move."

"Cara suspects nothing and is an open book when it comes to Lana. Doesn't shut the fuck up about her, really." Cal scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm sick of hearing about the bitch."

Mikhailov chuckled in response, waving down a waiter as they walked by. "Gimme whatever fancy shit you've got on tap." Then, his attention turned to Cal. "Sounds about right. My brother said the same about Lana when they were seeing each other." That sure was a way to put it.

Cal started to speak up, but chose to take a sip of his drink instead, mulling over what he wanted to say. "Servantis was your brother? Real shame what happened to him." He tilted his glass in Mikhailov's direction, a silent token of respect to his late brother.

The Russian merely grunted again, lifting his glass just a few moments after the waiter slid it onto the table in front of him.

"Moving on. Speaking of Lana... he's given Cal here a week to give her the name of your employer. As I'm sure you're aware, Lana is under the impression that Cal is working for her. That being said... we will need to feed her controlled information to keep her from growing suspicious... and to keep Alik satisfied." The boy paused, swirling his drink in his glass.

"So? Just give her the name of some poor fuck from the undercity."

"Too much of a risk. It puts Cal in danger, and we lose the only informant we have. So... Cal is going to give them his name. Besides... they wouldn't be able to get close to Albedo even if they tried." The boy did something new. He broke that stoic demeanor, a wild, hateful grin spreading across his face. Unsettling.

Both men quietly glanced at each other. It was the first time either of them had heard their employers name. Albedo's reputation preceded him, it seemed, as both men shifted nervously in their seats.

"I trust I need not remind either of you what will happen if you fail. Additionally... Albedo has his eyes on Cara as well."

Cal's jaw tightened suddenly, his cheeks burning red. That had apparently touched a nerve.

"Now, now... neither of you expected him to help you out of the kindness of his heart, did you? You both owe him. Cara will do nicely."

Mikhailov just shrugged. He didn't give two shits about what happened to the mouthy sister. As long as Lana was his... Albedo could have whatever and whoever he wanted.

"Albedo would like for me to extend his thanks for your cooperation and hard work. Dinner is on him, tonight. Order whatever you like." The boy nodded at a stack of menus sitting in the middle of the table.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, and the group ate and drank their fill.

[Lana Stanton]

Rough, calloused hands shook violently, struggling to tap out a few text messages that were sent one after another after another. Cal was damn near hyperventilating now, a string of curses muttered between each ragged breath. "Fuck! Answer the phone, answer the phone!" A palm slammed against the steering wheel, sending the car swerving across the center lines briefly. He righted the car in its lane, slamming his finger on the call button one last time. His heart sank with every ring, until finally it went to voicemail again.

He let the phone fall into his lap, that hand lifting to brush a few strands of greasy hair from his vision. There was nothing he could do now, except try to put out whatever fires this newest development might spark. The car veered off to the side, the passenger side tire bouncing up over the curb, sending the harsh metallic clunk of metal on concrete echoing down the street. When the rubber met asphalt again, the car screeched to a stop, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel as he tried desperately to calm himself. Even if Lana was there, he told himself, it wasn't like she suspected him, and even if she did his recent absence was easily explained away with work. He kept telling himself this, over and over again, until the sound of his racing heart slowly dulled in his ears, until some part of him finally started to believe it.

Cal stared at his hand, wiggling the tip of his pinky. Or he would have, if it were still there. If you asked him, Cal would swear up and down that he could still feel the digit as if the nerve and bone and flesh had never been severed, his brain's electrical pulses desperately trying to will nonexistent muscle to life. A deep growl rumbled in his chest, jaw popping as it clenched and grit. He decided to drive to the next town over, then come back via one of the curving backroads that took you off paved street. By the time he'd arrive home, surely Lana would be off the streets... right? He hoped so, anyway, as he pulled back out into the street. Eventually he flicked on the radio, humming along to whatever happened to be playing, missing notes and stumbling over the rhythm. City became highway as the speedometer inched higher and higher, till Cal was all but careening around sharp curves. He passed few cars and even fewer houses, long before the tires met shifting gravel and mud. The shift in terrain still didn't slow him, even as the foliage began to encroach on the narrow, forgotten road.

Cal nearly missed the sound of his phone ringing over the radio, fumbling to turn turn down the volume and snag the phone from between the seat and console. A quick glance at the caller ID, and he was laughing, tapping the phone and lifting it to his ear. "You dumb motherfucker, I've been trying to get ahold of you all night. Why the fuck didn't you answer?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a soft, familiar, sweet voice came through the speaker. Cal's face dropped, his eyes wide.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Cal. Your friend was a little... distracted."

The phone fell to the floorboard, and Cal could hear Lana laughing before the call dropped.

[Lana Stanton]

"The only person you should be angry with is yourself, Cal. You were warned ahead of time of the risks, and what the consequences for failure would be. I would be more concerned about the more... immediate threat."

Through the phone's speaker came the cool, calm voice of the messenger. Cal, on the other hand, was pacing angrily back and forth across the room, hands balling into fists as he took aim at the wall and sent one of them flying into the concrete wall. Which, surprise, didn't budge. He cried out angrily, reeling back on his heels and stomping back towards the phone that sat on an old card table.

"What immediate threat?"

"Mikhailov. Not only have you alerted his prey to your involvement and threatened her capture, but... well. Let me put it plainly. Mikhailov was not aiding us for free. Your little slip up cost far more than I think you're aware." There was a pause on the line, a soft intake of breath, and a brief chuckle on an exhale. "If I were you, I would focus on figuring out how to get him what he so desperately desires. If you wish to live, that is."

And with that, the line went silent. Cal stood in that deafening, heavy silence, gritting his teeth. He could hear his heart thumping rapidly in his ears as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment, he considered chucking the phone against the concrete. An angry, defeated groan tore through him as he plopped down into metal folding chair beside him, and he buried his face in his hands.

Everything he'd worked for and built for himself was about to come crashing down, and it was all because of *her*. "Stupid fucking bitch." He murmured softly, spitting onto the warehouse floor. He just needed to come up with a plan. So long as Mikhailov got what he wanted, he thought, he would be in the clear.

What he wanted, of course, was Lana.

Cal took a few calming breaths, letting the damp coolness of the abandoned warehouse settle his nerves and calm his mind. Then, he had a sudden thought, and his lips curled into a grin.

Cara.

He all but lunged for his phone, nearly sending it crashing down to the floor. He went to work, tapping out a message. He'd backspace a few times, stare quietly, then type again, until he was satisfied with what he wrote.

- Hey. Listen, I've gotten wrapped up in something that I can't get myself out of but I need help getting myself and Lana out safely. Can you meet me in a few days? You're the only one I can trust. Lana doesn't trust me, and I can't blame her... so maybe keep this between us. At least until we have a chance to talk. -

He hit send, and waited.

[Lana Stanton]

TW/CW: abduction, physical assault

The lot was packed when Cara arrived hours earlier, forcing her to park towards the back of the building, out of view of most of the lot itself, and far from the front door where patrons came and went. Cara thought little of it while she focused finding her keys. They had fallen to the bottom of the bag it seemed, and she stood beside the door trying to fish them out.

Cara never heard the approach of two men at her back. In fact, she'd managed to unlock the car door and pull it open just as she heard a voice call from across the lot.

"Hey Cara, wait a second."

It was Cal's voice.

Her eyes met his for a moment, confusion and *fear* flashing across her face as her frenzied gaze flicked between Cal and the two men quickly approaching her.

"What the fuck is this, Cal? What are you do-... let me GO!" Her shriek was quickly muffled by a rough, gloved hand that covered her mouth and nose. The second man, who had approached from her left, made quick work of zip ties around her wrists. And then there was Cal. Smug, like he'd just won the most harrowing game of chess he'd ever played. He crossed his arms, approaching slowly.

"Sorry, Cara. If I don't give Mikhailov what he wants, I'm fucked. I've worked too hard for that." Fingers gently brushed the hair from her face. Cal just chuckled, as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm not gonna kill you, as long as you and your sister behave and do exactly as I ask."

His fingers suddenly tightened in her hair. Before she had a chance to react, he'd pulled her towards him, turned her around, and used the force of his weight to slam her head against the car. Cara let out a shocked cry, crumpling in the arms of the two men at her side and trying desperately choke out a scream as she started to slip from consciousness. Everything was spinning, her heart racing in her ears. Fingertips gently touched where her forehead made contact with the metal, hot underneath the afternoon sun. Blood stained her fingertips, dripping down her palm. All Cara could do was groan as panicked eyes flicked from face to face.

The last thing she heard before the darkness engulfed her was Cal's laugh as the two tossed her into the back of a car she didn't recognize.

She tried desperately to keep her eyes open, to keep herself aware, but she succumbed to the head injury and drifted off into the unknown. Terrified, and alone.

[Lana Stanton]

Moonlight poured in through the sheer white curtains above the bed while the nighttime sounds of summer echoed in through the open panes. Lana lie there silently, staring at the ceiling and trying to still her racing heart. Gentle fingertips weaved through their silken sheets, seaking out Alik's., and when fingers finally met, Lana sucked in a sharp breath, blinking back tears.

*This is the only way I can protect them.*

She had read Cal's message over and over again. First, they would kill Cara. They'd come for Aisling. Then they'd come for Alik. Systemically isolating her until she had nowhere else to hide, till everyone she loved was gone. They'd rip away every single piece of happiness she had fought so hard to find.

*I won't let them.*

Lana forced herself out of the bed, careful not to wake her sleeping love. She made her way to the dresser, quietly thumbing through the drawers in search of something to wear.

*But what do you wear when you're going to die?*

It didn't matter. She threw on a pair of old sweats and a tattered tee that needed to be thrown out, anyway. From the top drawer, Lana pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out from under a few well placed pairs of socks, and turned to the bed once more. Alik stirred, and for a moment she feared he might awaken, until his snoring filled the room again.

*I will miss this. Miss him... and his terrible snoring.*

The note was placed gently on his bedside table, beside the glass of water she always had waiting for him in the mornings. Her heart broke, as she watched the rise and fall of his chest. She wanted to reach out, to call out to him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

*I have to do this.*

She quietly left the room, pausing to look back at him one more time before disappearing down the hall. For a moment she would linger in Aisling's doorway, her head resting against the frame. She'd read her *two* stories tonight, and spent some time curled up with her before she had fallen asleep. Rather than risk wake up the dreaming child, Lana pulled her door shut, hoping to shield her from the chaos that would come with the rising sun.

*If I don't go now...*

She didn't need her keys. She would walk where she had to go. It brought less attention, that way, and she'd need to keep out of sight of the people Benny had put in charge to protect her.

*I hope they can forgive me.*

She slid bare feet into her boots, shrugging at the thought of lacing them. It didn't matter. Lana grabbed a bottle from the mini bar Alik was always so proud of as she slipped through the door, pulling it shut with a soft click behind her.

*I hope they know how much I love them.*

========

The note:

Alik,

Please try not to be angry with me. We knew the day would come, the day I would need to put an end to all of this. It came faster than either of us wanted or expected, it seems. I wanted more time with you. With the family we've created and surrounded ourselves with... but I have to do what needs to be done to protect you. To protect Aisling. They will release Cara soon after I have arrived. Find her. Care for her. Make sure she knows that I have long forgiven her, and that I love her dearly.

Remember, always, that it takes a village. Our friends will help you navigate life with little Ash. Lean on them. That's what they are there for. They will protect her fiercely, and love her unconditionally. Just as they have for me. Make sure they know that I loved them just the same and am forever grateful for everything they have done for me.

Always know that I have loved you with every fiber of my being. I love you more than there are stars in the sky. Infinitely so.

Lana

[Lana Stanton]

CW for violence and implied assault for all further posts until otherwise noted.

Lana's journey came to an end outside at the foot of a looming, rusted out chain link fence. A metal sign, barely hanging on by a singular zip tie discolored by weather and sunlight, read *condemned*. A half-crumblimg apartment building waited beyond the fence, it's front doors open, waiting to swallow her into the darkness. Thick vines scaled the decrepit brick, twisting and spilling in and out of broken windows, their weight threatening to splinter the glass that had managed to remain intact within its frame.

The abandoned complex sat far enough off the main road, nestled in the center of an overgrown, thick grove that spanned several miles in any direction. She knew that once inside, there would be no hope of drawing attention for help, though she had accepted this long before arriving. Her fingers curled around a weakened bend in the fence and with a few good yanks, she managed to pry it back just enough to wedge her body through. A hiss tore through her as the jagged edge of a broken link snagged her shirt and broke through skin.

Despite the sting, she did not stop once she'd cleared the fence. One foot in front of the other, her legs propelling her closer towards the building's entrance. Lana didn't stop until the toe of her boot caught the edge of the concrete landing and sent her lurching forward. She caught herself on her palms, righting herself after a moment or two of silent thought. The smell of mold and rot and stagnant water hit her first as she approached the door, followed by the unnatural silence of the building itself.

That was, until the silence was broken by a sharp scream that echoed through the dusty, forgotten lobby.

*Cara.*

That scream sent her bounding into the building without a second thought. Once inside, she spun, panicked and desperately searching for the direction of the scream. Another tore through the the building, keen ears pinpointing the direction from which it came. From above, the thought as she took off, following the faded signs that pointed her towards the stairwell and hopping over a heap of rubble that rested at the bottom.

She climbed two stairs at a time, ripping the door open to the first floor and holding her breath while she waited for the next scream. It came much sooner than the last, but from above her still. Her unlaced boots had proven to be more of a hindrance than anything else and found themselves abandoned halfway up to the next floor.

Every floor was the same, until she finally reached the eighth floor. It was here that not only could she clearly hear her sister's cries, but also the sound of a second voice that cursed and taunted. Cal's. It was unmistakable. Fury ripped through her as she took off at a full sprint down the hallway, veering off to the left into another as her sister pleaded with Cal to *stop*.

Lana grasped the handle of the door as she approached, turning and yanking and pushing.

"Open the fucking door, Cal! You piece of shit, OPEN THE GOD DAMNED DOOR AND LET ME SEE HER." Furious tears streamed down her cheeks and as she backed up to throw her body against the door, ||she felt the cool sensation of metal pressed against the back of her head. The soft *click* that followed made her freeze, eyes wide.

"Oh, Lana. There will be plenty of time to reunite with your sister. But first... turn around and look at me." The voice made her blood go cold. She knew the thick, gravelly Russian accent the moment it hit her ears.

"Come on, *turn*. Keep your hands in front of you where I can see them." Mikhailov urged, pressing the barrel of the gun firmly against the back of her skull again. "I won't tell you again."

Slowly, she turned, refusing to meet his gaze. "Cal promised she'd be released if I came alone. I held up my end of the deal." She said, measured and calm. Mikhailov pressed the gun to her chin and grinned a toothy, crooked grin as he forced her head upwards. His finger lingered over the trigger in a silent warning.

"Cal doesn't make the rules, darling. I do." He slowly turned her head to the left with the gun's barrel, then the right, as if examining her pale, freckled face. He drug the metal down her neck, leaning in to murmur softly in her ear. "But I'll entertain him, for now. If nobody shows up for you in the next few hours, I'll let her go. Alive, even, since you've been so good..."

Lana snarled, though she dare not jerk back from his touch. The other side of the door fell silent save for some quickly approaching foot steps. The lock turned and Cal stepped out behind her, pulling the door shut behind him with a chuckle. He paused to wipe the blood from his hands on his grimy jeans.

"Took you long enough. I wasn't sure how much longer your loud mouthed sister was going to last in there."

Lana spurred to action, launching herself towards him in a desperate attempt to claw at his weasley face just as metal collided with the side if her head. Disoriented and her ear ringing, she stumbled, clutching at the side of her head as warmth poured into her hand. She turned at what she recognized as the sound of shuffling feet behind her, but her reaction came too late. A boot met the center of her back, sending her crashing to the floor as cold, unfeeling laughter echoed through the hallway.

Mikhailov knelt at her side, rolling her haphazardly onto her back. "Behave, little bird. I've waited far too long for this just to have to kill you so soon." He purred, brushing blood-soaked hair from her face before turning to Cal again.

"Put her in the room with her sister. Let her say her goodbyes. You so much as see movement outside the fence, you call me. Understand? I'm trusting you not to fuck this up *again*."

"I got it, I got it. Don't worry about it."

"Good." His attention returned to Lana, who groaned in disagreement. "I'll be back to play, little bird. We have a lot of catching up to do."