I'm a lawyer; I don't give a crap about the law.

Flufilling

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 18:48:55 GMT

The Wolfram & Hart building was a monument of glass and steel, a temple of corruption. Oliver smoked his cigarette while standing on the sidewalk, reflecting on the irony that such a place should have a no-smoking policy in the lobby. If anything, the people within ought to light your cigarettes themselves, especially given the prices they charged. Just another service rendered by the local Junior Evil.

They were bugs.

He'd woken up alone, finding that Hannah had disappeared sometime during the night, and strangely he felt okay with that. Her warmth still radiated through the cold spot under his heart, and he was using it as fuel to get him through having to go into that building, where she was. She was a bug too, having become one of Them at some point. Just someone else for him to defy by surviving their betrayal. Never mind. He'd get through it. He always had.

He walked through the lobby, his shoes making hollow sounds on the marble tile. Upstairs to see Virgil, and then outside again. Maybe he'd go to lunch. He had to get through this first, though.

As mundane as it was, the case Jill was working on served as a respite of sorts. The lawyer was unsure of how to proceed in her quest for a promotion of sorts, ever since the Conduit decided to be typical Wolfram & Hart and saddle her with a morally-questionable request in return for what she wanted.

Oh, the Senior Partners would give her control of the Special Projects division, provided she killed a couple people. Which normally, would’ve been fine, but Wolfram & Hart, in its infinite bastarddom, decided the two people it wanted killed were Victoria and Oliver.

The vampire Jill always struggled with feelings for and her ex-boyfriend. Spectacular.

Not that Jill never thought about wanting an ex dead, but to actually do it? That hit a little close to home, particularly as time went by and gave the attorney enough perspective for her to know she might not have completely been in the right as far as he was concerned.

As for Vicky? Well, she was a vampire and Jill was no Slayer. Killing her would be tricky at best.

The spellcaster got out of the elevator on the twenty-first floor, taking only a cursory look around before moving into the hallway. If he saw her, he would be coldly pleasant and nothing more. Less, even, if the situation called for it. And he'd make that decision, not her.

Virgil's secretary was nowhere in sight, which was typical. He'd have to speak to the man about that. He dropped his weight into a padded leather chair and crossed one foot over the other, his entire posture radiating defiance. He'd wait it out.

Wait … where was the release of information form?

“Shit,” Jill sighed, standing and closing the file folder on her desk. She couldn’t do much of anything without that form, especially if the press started calling. And she knew they would, considering her client this time was a wealthy and influential senator who specialized in military weapons and apparently had quite the fondness for six-year-old boys.

Jill left her office in a huff, prepared to give whichever flunky was supposed to supply her with that form hell when she stopped in her tracks. Mostly because as she approached the lobby, she could see Oliver sitting there.

Wonderful. Just wonderful. It wasn’t enough for Wolfram & Hart to ask me to kill him, but they have to dangle him right here in front of me to make the decision even harder?

Jill sighed, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing her approach to the elevators. Maybe if she just kept walking, he wouldn’t see her, and she could avoid in the inevitable awkwardness.

He saw her.

Felt her, was more like it, the way you'd feel it if someone was staring at the back of your neck from across the room. He looked at the empty receptionist's desk, then at the elevator doors. Gauging the distance between one and the other.

Hate. Love. Measuring the distance between those as well.

"Running away again, Ms. Andersen?" Oliver's voice was very soft, a mocking tone lying beneath it like a coiled snake. "How typical."

No, unlike some people, I actually have a job …

It amazed Jill how she hadn’t even said one word to the man and already he was mocking her. If this kept up, that decision about whether or not to kill him wouldn’t be that hard after all.

The lawyer turned around to face him, though her eyes did the best they could to avoid his – assuming he’d managed to keep his hair out of them today. Everything that sprang to mind to say came off as hateful or sarcastic, but for some reason, the lawyer couldn’t bring herself to say any of them.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” she forced herself to say. “Me? I prefer calling it doing my job.”

Her thumb pressed into the button to signal the elevator. That thing couldn’t reach the 21st floor fast enough.

Fucked any good vampires lately?

He stifled that one, just barely. Maybe because he didn't want to know the answer. "Yes, your job," he said instead. "You've fallen back in love with it, then? The last time we spoke, I seem to recall the honeymoon was definitely over."

Of course, she'd probably lied about that too, the way she lied about everything else every day of her life. Trying to see how long she could get him to dance on her string. Oliver glanced at the desk, wishing the goddamned useless receptionist would magically appear there.

"It's funny, Ms. Andersen, how quickly your mind changes."

There were so many things Jill wanted to say to this worm, but said worm had the ability to set things – and people – ablaze if he were angry enough, so some manner of filter was prudent at this juncture.

Not that Jill liked it any.

“Yeah, well,” she began with a shrug, “being offered a promotion will do that to you. Not that you’d know – something tells me you never worked a day in your life. Just sitting up in that penthouse spending not-so-dear mommy’s money.”

That was more like it. Gave him something to sink his teeth into. Oliver bared said teeth at Jill in a smile that was miles away from his eyes. "Mmm." He took a half-step towards her, stopped, put his hands behind his back.

"What is it this week? Pedophiles? Drug smugglers selling in schoolyards? Kiddie porn? Must be that daddy complex of yours coming out, you always seem to take the side of the abusers. I wonder why that is."

How long did it take you to run to your wonderful Victoria for comfort and try to get your head up under her skirt again? A day? Two? Or did you practice some real restraint and wait three? That girlfriend of hers is likely to shoot you through the head. Someone's likely to let her.

"And I seem to recall, Ms. Andersen, that you didn't mind my penthouse so very much when you were spending so much time there. On your back."

The longer this conversation went, the easier that decision the Senior Partners placed before her was becoming. Just a shame she didn’t have her revolver on her – she’d be able to take care of half of their request right here while waiting for the elevator.

As it was, the best Jill could do would be punch him in that pale nose of his. Which wasn’t that unappealing a notion, come to think of it.

“Pedophiles,” she admitted with a sneer. “Good call … representing a politician who fancies himself some six-year-olds.”

Which is a hell of a lot more fun than talking to you right now … where the fuck is that elevator?

"Of course." And he wasn't surprised, not really. She had never claimed to be better than any of her clients, no matter what other falsehoods she had let slip from her mouth. How could he ever have believed her? At least now he knew how full of shit she was. Just like everyone else.

Well, except for Hannah.

"Well, I hope you find that your work fulfills you," Oliver said. "Because that's all you're going to get. All you're worth. You ruin everything else you touch. And that's why you're going to end up twice as pathetic as you are now."

He sounded a little sad now, almost pitying. "Everything I did, was for you," he said matter-of-factly. "And you decided to toss that aside because of someone who's name I can't even remember. Think about that the next time you go crawling back to Ms. Foxworth, won't you? You can't even say she means nothing to you. Not like the way I mean nothing. Right?"

Jill didn’t hear the ding signaling the arrival of the elevator she’d been waiting on, mostly because she was too busy shoving her elbow into Oliver’s nose. Let him retaliate with some hocus-pocus, oh-look-you’re-on-fire spell; Jill really didn’t have the time or the patience for any more of his pointless berating, not when she had a job to do.

Checking her elbow, Jill stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the 14th floor. She still had to get that release of information form.

“You criticize me for working here,” she said with a smirk, “yet you let one of us represent you.”

The lawyer couldn’t think of anything more to say, so she just chuckled to herself as the elevator doors closed. Maybe she’d humor the Senior Partners a bit after all.

"Bitch."

Oliver pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his nose, watching the numbers at the top of the elevator light up and then go dark. She wanted to play rough, did she? Fine. No one could play cold bastard better than he could.

"Oliver?"

Finally, the spellcaster thought, turning to face Virgil as if the lawyer saw him with a nosebleed all the time. "Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, swiping at another trickle of blood.

"I was at a surprise meeting," the other man answered, indicating an open office down the hall. "Sorry I'm late. What ... happened to you?"

"Nothing. Nothing important." Oliver watched the numbers change from twenty-four to twenty five, letting his anger simmer quietly. "Nothing that can't be fixed with a simple phone call."

She was a bitch, but he was a loose cannon. A wild card. She'd see.

Still White

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 04:49:29 GMT

The White Room was still white. Good to know.

But as Jill stood, arms folded across her chest, a frown grew on her pale features. Normally, when she sauntered her way into this vast expanse of white, she was immediately greeted by the Conduit – in whatever form it deemed appropriate that day. But this time, the attorney was being forced to wait, not unlike every time she would go to the doctor’s for a checkup.

Only difference? No out-of-date issues of People or Sports Illustrated.

“HEY!!” Jill bellowed, her voice echoing off invisible walls. She really didn’t have the patience for this; the brunette’s renewed sense of purpose within the firm was largely her reason for being here. If Jill wanted to grab Wolfram & Hart by the throat and force it into its own endgame, she would have to do it from a position with more power than what she currently held as a mere attorney.

Which meant Special Projects. Not just being a part of the division; running the division. Unless and until Jill got her hands on that executive position – and all the perks that came with it – she could never take over this company and one day have her way with the unseen forces that corrupted her throughout her life.

Jill sighed, glancing at her watch for the time. Only, when the lawyer’s eyes set on her wrist, Jill noticed … her watch was gone.

“What the fuck?” Jill wondered aloud, looking around her for any sight of the Conduit; there was none. A sigh turned into a low growl, Jill’s brows furrowing.

“Get your ass out here!” Jill called out. “I’m tired of this bullshit!”

“Now now … did I ever teach you to talk to your superiors like that?”

Jill whipped around in the direction the voice came from, smirking to herself when she saw the familiar crimson suit and salt-and-pepper goatee. “Wow,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’re getting predictable. I woulda figured you’d take the form of someone you haven’t shoved in my face yet.”

The Conduit, in the form of the late David Gregor, smirked, shoving its hands in the pockets of its suit. “What can I say? I love the classics.”

She knew that wasn’t really David Gregor standing before her, but Jill couldn’t hide the contempt as it rose up within her. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, her hands slowly balling into fists as she took two methodical steps in the direction of the creature who – for the time being, at least – resembled her mentor.

And the man she killed. Twice.

“I assume you know why I’m here,” Jill said in a clipped tone. “I mean, you’re the fuckin’ Conduit. Aren’t you all … omnipotent or something?”

“Something,” the Conduit replied, his disarming smile growing. “Yes, I’m aware of your … renewed vigor. It’s nice, if not slightly suspicious.”

The lawyer arched her brow. “Suspicious?”

“Indeed.” The Conduit began to pace, making methodical circles around the lithe attorney, its eyes taking in her striking red and black business suit. Black skirt and undershirt contrasting nicely with a blood-red business jacket … and, unless the Conduit’s nose betrayed it, a decided lack of underwear.

“You see,” the Conduit continued finally, leveling its gaze into Jill’s eyes, “for the longest time, you weren’t in the game anymore. Distant, distracted … one might even get the impression you wanted out of Wolfram & Hart. I mean, you did ask your hocus-pocus boyfriend to find a loophole in your contract, did you not?

“Then again, considering how he probably wants to tear you limb from limb by now because you drip like a faucet at the very thought of a slut with fangs … there goes your out clause, hmm?”

Jill had done a fairly decent job of keeping her composure up until that point. She could take a verbal reaming from the Conduit to the Senior Partners – hell, reamings of just about every sort were the norm at this firm – but the minute this David Gregor wannabe brought up Oliver, something within the lawyer snapped. Like a twig, if one were to listen close enough.

“He meant nothing,” Jill said through gritted teeth, unsure of who she was trying to convince.

The Conduit blinked, wide-eyed. “Really?” it quipped. “You’re sure? Cause I was to understand you loved this man. Emo gaze, droopy hair and all … you loved him and that was what made you see how vile and wicked we were and made you want out. Because we never would’ve let you have him, not the way you wanted. We would’ve eventually peeled off his fingernails and skinned him alive. And only when he’d begged for days on end would we finally have ended his miserable existence.

“Then again, I’m not convinced you even know what love is … do you, Ms. Andersen?”

“Of course I don’t,” Jill replied with neither emotion nor hesitation. “Could I work at a place like this if I did?”

Jill knew her job with Wolfram & Hart had nothing to do with whether or not she knew what love was. And on some level, the attorney lamented her youth once more, the days when she knew exactly what love was, and that it was her father Paul. She loved and idolized him, and he turned out to be everything she thought he spent his life fighting against. From that day forward, Jill’s concept of love was skewed, one might even say corrupted … sometimes to the point where a relationship with someone else was impossible.

Oliver included.

The Conduit noticed the thought and uncertainty in Jill’s eyes and smiled. It was a smile Gregor had shown the woman on more than one occasion, a smile that simply stated that he was right and that he had Jill exactly where he wanted her. His mentorship over her was always a power play of sorts, and Gregor took great pride in how he was able to break the once-proud and self-righteous Jill.

It was neither easy nor quick, but his life’s work had finally come full-circle; with Paul in the grave and Jill busting her curvaceous ass trying to bring about the end of humanity.

“Then again, maybe you did love him,” the Conduit spoke at last, taking a step toward Jill. “After all, you were willing to sacrifice everything you had, everything you’d worked so hard for, to be with him. You would’ve sacrificed your entire life – quite literally – to be happy with him. And yet, it didn’t seem to be enough. Why?”

Jill glanced away for a moment, not wanting to meet the Conduit’s steely gaze. She knew that wasn’t David Gregor standing before her, but the experience was nevertheless unnerving. She stared off into the white vastness before eventually looking down at her own feet, frowning in confusion when she noticed her shoes – high-quality Gucci heels, no less – were gone.

Angered, the lawyer glared at the Conduit, her narrow eyes widening once she saw that where David Gregor once stood, now there was Daniel Richards. Former friend of the Andersen family and chief of police in Baltimore – before Jill shot him between the eyes at her mother’s grave.

“Something wrong?” the Conduit asked, blood trickling from the bullet wound on its forehead and running down its nose.

Taking a step back, Jill shook her head, glancing frantically for a way out. She’d come up looking for a promotion, a way to advance her career and show the rest of this unholy corporation just how fearless she was.

But now? Jill was nothing but scared.

“Where are you going?” the Conduit asked, following Jill step-for-step. “We’re not even close to being done yet. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Jill, her breathing ragged and heavy from the fear creeping into her throat, forced herself to look at the Conduit. She squinted and her breath caught in her lungs, the resemblance between her surrogate father and the Conduit’s representation of Chief Richards eerily accurate.

This was the part of the White Room Jill liked least.

“Why?” Jill repeated, her voice shaky. “You wanna … you wanna know why my love for Oliver wasn’t enough?”

The Conduit stood in silent thought for a few moments before chuckling and shaking its head. “Not really,” it mused. “I’m more interested in why you’re here. What it is you’re after, what you think you can just waltz right up here and snatch right out of the Senior Partners’ hands.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come. Instead, the lawyer felt a sudden draft, a rush of cold blowing over her skin. Only it wasn’t until Jill glanced down at herself that she noticed what was wrong:

Her clothes were gone.

Her eyes wide, the lawyer thrust her arms around to cover herself. Jill stared intently at the Conduit, anger and shock in her eyes. “What the fuck?!” she demanded, her hands feeling nothing but pale flesh as not a stitch of her outfit remained.

The Conduit laughed, softly at first, then building into a creepy crescendo. As it laughed, the Conduit shed the Richards façade, giving way to a form that brought a lump and a shocked whimper from Jill’s throat:

Her father Paul.

“What?” the Conduit asked with a look of hurt shock on its face. “I can’t see my baby girl as she truly is?”

“I didn’t come up here looking for a striptease,” Jill barked, still covering her body as if there were something the Conduit had never actually seen before.

Again, the Conduit paced in circles, its eyes seeming to peer through Jill’s flesh and right into her soul. She would never acknowledge it, but she still had one; she was, after all, still human. As much as she might’ve wanted that eternal kiss, no matter how badly her subconscious begged for some sultry vixen to sink her fangs and turn her, it hadn’t happened yet.

“Perhaps,” the Conduit replied, “but it is only when we are stripped of our defenses that we learn who we are and what we want.”

Lowering her arms, Jill sighed in annoyance. “I already know who I am … I’m Jillian Andersen, attorney-at-law at Wolfram & Hart. And I know what I want – to run the Special Projects unit and eventually overtake the Senior Partners and make sure this firm actually succeeds in implementing its endgame.”

The Conduit shook its head, a loose intestine falling from its open belly and plopping onto the floor. Oh, God, Jill thought to herself. He’s as he was when I killed him … sliced him open and everything …

“No,” it explained, “that’s what you are, not who. We’re here to discover that.”

Jill, for her part, couldn’t take her eyes off the bloodied intestine lying on the floor, her mind instantly flashing back to the day she sliced her father open and removed his still-beating heart. It was a test, David Gregor’s last check of loyalty before giving her the job with the Las Vegas branch. She did it knowing Gregor would likely betray her anyway, so she following butchering her father by stabbing her mentor between the eyes.

And naturally, that didn’t kill him. But her father, near as she could tell, was still dead.

Which made this all the more creepy. Not that Jill wasn’t used to the Conduit taking on forms of the departed for simple thrills; it did, after all, show up to her as Gregor on more than one occasion, but for some reason seeing the Conduit walking around in Paul Andersen’s skin was decidedly unsettling.

“A-ha!” the Conduit burst with applause, a beaming grin on its face. “I believe we’ve figured it out.”

Jill frowned in confusion. “We … have?”

The Conduit nodded. “Indeed! You see, while you’re standing over there staring at my guts and what not, I can peer into your head. And get this – you don’t have to force-feed me bad karaoke to do it!

“You, Jillian Andersen, are nothing more than a scared little daddy’s girl. That’s all there is to it, really.”

Noting the alarmed and angered look on Jill’s face, the Conduit approached and placed a hand on her cheek. Jill flinched away, taking several steps back before losing her balance and falling to the invisible floor. She made no effort to get back to her feet, choosing instead to stare at the Conduit as it once again changed forms, this time taking the shape of her late mother Janice – complete with blown-off jaw.

“From day one, you always preferred Paul,” the Conduit said with a hint of bitterness. “Always daddy’s little fucking angel … I bet you would’ve fucked him if you could. Spending all that time with him, wearing his hat and badge; meeting him at the door when he got home from work every night, not knowing he was actually coming back from a drug deal with Gregor.

“Nope, you were a clueless little bitch; all that mattered to you was that daddy was home and he was going to spin you some tale about all the heroic things he and Uncle Danny did that day. Well, you wanna know how heroic your father was, Jill? He personally slaughtered 37 children one night in order to appease a Thai drug lord.

“Paul Andersen, regular hero.”

Jill tried to hide the tears as the Conduit spoke, inching closer to her with every word it said, but it was no use. She sat there, huddled against herself, naked with tears streaking down her cheeks.

“When you found out what your father was, you rebelled,” the Conduit continued, momentarily taking glee in the tears on Jill’s face. “Every child does at some point, but not the way you did. You didn’t just rebel, you jumped over to the Dark Side. And David Gregor stood by you every step of the way – I hate to break it to you, Jillian, but the only reason Gregor used and corrupted you was because you let him.

“You are not the helpless victim, Jillian. You never were; you knew what you were doing all along. You came to Wolfram & Hart willingly.”

Tears still trickling down her cheeks, Jill looked up, meeting the Conduit’s gaze head-on. Her breathing steadied and slowly, the lawyer rose to her feet. She was still naked, but she no longer cared; if the Conduit wanted to see who Jillian Andersen really was, then so be it.

“You’re right,” the lawyer said in an emotionless tone. “I did come here willingly. I knew what I was doing when I signed my soul away to the Senior Partners. Just like I know what I’m doing now when I stand here before you and demand to be promoted. I’m not good to this firm as some meaningless attorney; the Senior Partners have a plan, and they need me to help them see that plan through.

“So here’s what you’re gonna do, Mom. March your disfigured little ass down to whatever hell the bosses live in, and you’re going to talk them into giving me this promotion. And be warned; I will not take no for an answer. I may be a miserable little human to you, but I have connections and resources you cannot even fathom.

“Are we clear?”

The Conduit stood before Jill for several moments, staring into her eyes with little, if any, signal of emotion. The form of her mutilated mother slowly melted away, replaced again by the visage of David Gregor. Slowly, Gregor’s face contorted into a sideways grin; the one Jill always knew meant she had his approval.

“Crystal,” the Conduit said, its grin shifting slightly. “I will speak to the Partners on your behalf, but there is something we require of you.”

Jill rolled her eyes. Of course there was something the higher-ups needed from her; that was always how things worked at Wolfram & Hart. Nothing was ever free in this corporate House of Pain.

“Fine,” she said with a careless shrug. “Who am I killing this time? Denise in Accounting? Roger in Demon Resources?”

The Conduit chuckled, shook its head. “Oh, no,” it said. “You have to understand, Jillian … the gravity of what you’re asking us, the requisite sacrifice is going to be a bit more complicated than offing some corporate flunky.

“We want you to kill two who’ve been closest to you.”

Jill frowned, her brow scrunching in confusion. “But there isn’t anyone left,” she offered. “Mom, Dad, Gregor, Daniel … they’re already dead.”

Again, the Conduit chuckled, this time graduating to full-blown laughter. “Oh, no … there are two left. Oliver and Victoria. Kill them and bring their remains to the Conduit. Consider it your collateral to the Senior Partners. You accomplish this, you’re in control of Special Projects. You fail, and … well, you never want to fail in a place like this, do you?”

With a snap of the Conduit’s fingers, the White Room dissolved into nothingness, leaving Jill back in her own office. The sun shone through the window and the door to her office hung open and for the moment, Jill wondered why her secretary was staring at her with his mouth agape.

Then she remembered; she was still naked.

Covering herself with her arms again, Jill glared at her new secretary. “Don’t you have a phone to answer or something?” she barked. “And shut the damn door!”

Once the door latched shut, Jill let out an audible sigh, standing and staring out her window at the Vegas skyline beyond. Did the Conduit really just ask her to kill Victoria and Oliver? In exchange for her promotion?

What a David Gregor thing to do …

Nothing to Worry About

Tue, 09 Oct 2007 20:51:40 GMT

"Are you doing anything this afternoon? You're never going to believe what happened."

Martha Quires had been involved with show business since before she could walk. Her mother took her to a casting call to advertise diapers, and the thirty-second spot had been the launching pad for her career. An attractive, well-behaved child, she had grown into a more attractive, somewhat less well-behaved young woman, and part of her non-filming time had begun to be dedicated to poring over movie scripts, looking for the vehicle to propel her into film stardom.

She met Jaclyn Anderson on the set of Birthright, and while their on-screen characters made the expression 'mortal enemies' an understatement, the two actresses had formed a solid friendship behind the scenes. On this particular afternoon, she was talking to the other woman on her cell phone and heading to a small restaurant in Las Vegas where the cast sometimes gathered. Her annoyance over the incident with Marissa Stenbeck had returned full-force, and she wanted someone to bitch to.

"Can you meet me at Gregory's? Before I put someone into a coma with this phone?"

Jaclyn agreed without any hesitation to meet Martha at Gregory’s … mostly because she wasn’t scheduled for shooting today. That was probably because the writer she spoke with that morning had no idea what they were going to do with Jill next, so that left her with at least one day to kill by herself.

Martha sounded annoyed at best, so the pale brunette wondered what was going on when she walked through the door and visually scanned the restaurant for her table. Spotting it, Jaclyn couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with Calvin.

Amazing how problems just seemed to keep creeping up when one least expected them.

“Hey,” Jaclyn said as she sat across from the redhead, still amazed how well they got along considering their characters practically wanted to behead and drink each others’ blood.

Literally.

Martha was already ordering, the waitress standing attentively next to her chair, and she asked for a large rare steak and a glass of wine. "No potato. I'm cutting back on starch. Just greens for a salad, I'm allergic to tomatoes. Vinegar dressing. Thank you." The redhead sipped at her water, looking off at nothing in particular while she stewed.

After the waitress took Jaclyn's order and then departed in the direction of the kitchen, she said, "Sorry if I was a little crazed on the phone. Yesterday was not good.”

“Kinda the impression I got,” Jaclyn responded with a furrowed brow, having already ordered her medium-well steak with a side of grilled shrimp and steamed broccoli. Martha looked not of the good, as if she were stressed about something.

It was a look Jaclyn had seen before, a look that had Calvin written all over it.

“What’d he do?” the paler of the two women asked, squeezing lemon into her glass of water.

"Who?" An older woman passed by their table with two younger people in tow, apparently her kids, and Martha smiled at them in a distracted fashion. Might as well try to be nice to the bystanders while she was here, it was good for her image. She looked back at her friend after a minute, caught her expression, and she gave the other woman a look that said, Oh, come on.

"It's not Cal," she said, because they'd had this conversation before, repeatedly. "Not really, anyway. Have you met the newest addition to our happy little family? The one playing the cop lady? I found her having a nice little chat with my girlfriend yesterday."

Her salad arrived, and the actress added the dressing to it from the little carafe before setting it back down. "Honestly, it was like something out of Dynasty. If there had been a swimming pool nearby, we'd have been in it."

“We’ve met,” Jaclyn said with a tiny scowl. “Did a day of shooting last season, when she was still a ‘guest star.’ Back when they had Jill in the hospital after her fight with Mallory – you know, again.”

Jaclyn had to chuckle at that; it was as if the writers couldn’t think of anything better, so they decided to have the evil lawyer and the scrawny vampire-loving redhead duke it out again. Thank goodness it was the stunt woman getting her head bashed into a 7-Eleven window, though; as much as Jaclyn made, she wasn’t about to take stitches in the head for this job.

“A nice chat,” Jaclyn repeated with a single nod. “As in … hitting on nice?”

"They acted like nothing was happening, but Piper was halfway to jumping out of her skin when I first showed up," Martha answered, crunching into a leaf of lettuce. "She's playing straight on the show, but you never can tell these days. Not everyone's as open about it as Diana."

A pause while the waitress returned with a glass of white wine, and the redhead accepted it to take a sip. "What do you think of her? I mean, in the day or so when she was filming with you. did you get much of an impression of her? It's not like I want to be paranoid, I mean she's Gwen's age at least, but they were just so ... chatty."

She made an exaggeratedly bright face when she said it, looking vaguely like a stewardess who was having to jolly airplane passengers through the fact that they were out of coffee on the flight, then rolled her eyes. "Am I being crazy? I did kind of bitch Piper out once we were outside. Does she look like a homewrecker?"

Jaclyn’s face scrunched up in thought, her hand idly stirring the straw in her water glass. She didn’t really get much of a bead on Marissa the day they’d spent shooting the hospital scene. All she knew was the writers wanted their characters to meet again, apparently to reveal more plot and exploit a hidden part of Jill’s backstory.

Other than that, the woman was clueless.

“Not that I could tell,” Jaclyn admitted. “Then again, we barely got past introducing ourselves before she buried herself in the script and only wanted to talk about the scene we were shooting.

“Course, she wasn’t full cast yet, so she was probably working as hard as she could to impress the producers.”

It occurred to Martha that she could ask Calvin, because Cal had the habit of checking out all new female cast members as soon as they were signed on, but that would involve actually talking to him, and she was trying to avoid that until she thought of the best way to tell him she was more or less dumping him. She couldn't be friends with Calvin and be Piper's girlfriend simultaneously, not with the way things had been going.

One of them had to go.

"I shouldn't have been so late," the redhead said with a headshake. "Stayed up too late the night before and missed the alarm. She was probably just looking for company and I over-reacted. Still. The woman was rude. I've been in this business for a long time and I don't need some ex-housewife with a fat ass telling me what 'professional' means. Fucking drama majors ..."

Wait, whoa. Fat ass. That was it, she could ask Leonard instead. He liked girls with big butts. And he was new, which would help smooth the path with Marissa. "Do you at least think she's straight?"

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Jaclyn said with a sympathetic frown. “Even when you do know someone, you really can’t tell half the time.”

Her voice grew lower as she leaned forward. “I hear the old British guy who plays Faith’s Watcher is gay.”

Jaclyn sat back up, just in time for the waitress to bring her food. The actress smiled as she cut into the steak for the first time, nodding in approval of how perfectly it was cooked. This place certainly knew what medium-well meant.

“So I turned down that movie offer,” she said. “You know, the Jay & Silent Bob one.”

"Yeah, I heard about that," Martha responded, her own steak getting the same treatment. Pinkish liquid pooled around the meat, then trickled across the plate. Good, they'd brought it to her bloody. "My agent keeps getting calls from the people over at NBC. They want me to come in and read for a guest role on Heroes."

She paused long enough to take a couple of bites, washing it down with some wine. "I dunno, though, I keep hearing rumors they're trying to cast a love interest for Sylar, and I wouldn't want to be it. Have you ever looked at that guy up close? He's the fug. Besides, I need to concentrate on movie scripts, not more television roles. If I don't get my break-out vehicle soon, I'll end up typecast like Gwen. Or worse, like Diana, too old to move on."

She had lowered her voice when she said it, because she enjoyed working with Diana, in the limited capacity they'd been able to do so, but it was Hollywood and age was always a factor for women sooner than it was for men. She had to choose her options carefully.

“I mean,” Jaclyn began, pausing to take a sip of water, “I’ve seen this guy’s movies. And I don’t think it’s coincidence that the only ones I liked were the ones where there were no stoners or they were hardly there. And, yeah … the fat one’s speech in Chasing Amy was touching, but … I don’t wanna work like that, ya know?

“It might work for Rosario or Shannen, but not me. I’m a serious actress.”

The paler of the two women took another bite of steak, nodding and chewing thoughtfully. “Heard anything about that movie your agent told you about? The one rumored to have Clooney in the lead role?”

"I still have the script," the redhead said, waving her hand in the direction of her car. "It's decent enough, but they've already cast a lot of the main roles. Clooney's okay to work with, I had a minor role on a picture of his while we were on hiatus, but have you ever been in a room with him and Matt Damon and Julia Roberts? I'm always scared she's going to open that giant mouth of hers and bite someone's whole head off."

It was jealousy, she supposed, although she'd never admit it. She was talented, damn it, and she'd been working as an actress for a long time. She'd earned the right to do something noteworthy before the shelf life on her career ran out.

"So what's next for Jill?" she asked, changing the subject a little. "I heard they've still got the boyfriend visiting relatives, what happens when he comes back? No more fights at gas stations, I hope."

“Not sure,” Jaclyn said with a bit of a frown, wishing the writers would make up their minds. “They had Jill try to seduce Victoria again, but that didn’t work, so now she’s back to be the uber-bitch lawyer she was when I first came on.

“And she now apparently has this thing for Darian. Which, granted, he’s a fuckin’ hottie, but still … girl needs some direction.”

Jaclyn scarfed down the last of her steak, washing it down with a chug of water and starting on the grilled shrimp. Meh, not nearly enough Old Bay. “And Mallory? They decided when we’re gonna fight to the concussion again yet?”

"I haven't heard. I'd like to do something different, but I'm just not sure what. I'm supposed to meet with Max at some point to discuss the direction I'll be taking, but he's pretty busy these days." Martha shrugged, continuing to pick at her salad.

"There's another con coming up, I've already been booked to appear," the redhead added. "My filming schedule's been too busy for many public appearances, it'll be a nice change." Maybe getting away from the set for a little while was what she needed anyway, it would give her time to decompress.

And it would give her time to talk Leonard into at least checking Marissa out. Cons could get pretty crazy once the question-and-answer panels and autograph signings were done for the day. She wouldn't even have to tell him why.

Good thing she was capable of thinking on her feet.

Jaclyn’s face again crunched into a frown. “Hey, how come I never get invited to these cons?”

Then again, cons meant all those over- and underweight guys still living in their parents’ basements, dressed up like storm troopers and Klingons, harboring delusions of having sex with the stars … or even just sex in general. She knew that was largely the kind of fan base shows like this attracted, but still … why couldn’t the fans be classy?

You know, like the ones who watch Law & Order?

“Guess my character’s not that popular.”

"Well, she is kind of a bitch, hun," Martha said with a slight smirk. "It's hard to conjure up much sympathy among the viewers when your character treats everyone like something she just scraped off of the bottom of her shoe." She lifted her wineglass for another sip, then set it back down. "Maybe that's something you should take up with Max."

Her lunch half-finished, she said, "Thanks for coming out to talk, though, I really appreciate it. Some people are just so ... unbelievable. But I'll deal with it. You're not having any problems with anyone lately, are you?"

Jaclyn shook her head. “Aside from my agent who sees fit to peddle Kevin Smith’s wares like he’s the guy’s dealer or something, no.” The actress finished her water, ate a few more pieces of broccoli.

“And see, I don’t mind Jill being such a bitch. I actually kinda like it; never played someone like that before. What I hate is how she went all soft when she got hitched up with that guy and now that he’s gone she’s all bitchy again. It’s almost like … which is it? Is she a bitch or not?”

"Hell, ask Gwen that question, not me. The viewers love her, from what I can tell. I even saw a poll on TWoP about it - 'Grace Hutchinson - Psycho Killer or Just Misunderstood?' It's easy to say the writers are schizophrenic when it comes time for them to do her scenes, but she makes it work somehow.”

There was a pause for more steak, then; "At least you get to have something like layers. Mallory's just ... well-meaning. After a couple of years, it gets to be kind of boring. I don't know. I just want to do something different."

Another shrug. "Sometimes you just want to change gears, y'know?"

Jaclyn nodded, dabbing at her mouth before fishing out three 20-dollar bills, handing them to Martha. “Here, lunch is my treat today,” she said, checking her watch. “Listen, I got a photo shoot with Maxim in two hours, so I gotta get ready for that. Apparently they wanna do a photo shoot for all these hot lawyers on TV this season, and according to my agent, I made the cut.”

Jaclyn stood, giving Martha a warm smile. “Just keep the change for whatever. And don’t worry about the old girl. I don’t know Piper personally, but based on what you’ve told me, she’s probably not one to stray.

“I gotta run, hun … call me if you need anything.”

"Yeah, I've got it all figured out," Martha said with a determined nod. "Nothing to worry about."

She waved goodbye to Jaclyn as her friend departed, tucking the money out of sight before she finished her steak. She'd have to call her agent, see if he had anything else booked for her before the con, then check on hotel arrangements. And get somebody new to handle press relations.

It was so hard to get good help these days.

Snootchie Bootchies?

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 04:02:15 GMT

“For the last time, I don’t want that part!”

Jaclyn Anderson threw a pillow across her trailer, sighing as it smashed against her mirror and fell to the floor. If she held onto her cell phone any tighter, it would probably break – which, considering what her agent was offering her right now, might not have been such a bad thing.

“For starters,” the actress said, checking her watch to make sure this talk wouldn’t make her late for the day’s filming, “I’ve read the script. Complete horse shit. Who told that Smith guy he could writ, anyway? Hell, I could create a pair of stoners that run around after pussy and say stupid shit like ‘snootchie bootchies!’ I am not doing one of his movies!

“Especially if that Milano bitch is in it!”

Jaclyn had worked with Alyssa Milano once before – on some old made-for-TV movie she didn’t even remember the name of – and she’d never met such a vicious, spiteful woman. Every time the script was changed, Alyssa took issue with it. Hell, at one point, she argued for three hours with the director over the placement of the word “the.”

Bitch held up filming for half the day because of her stupid hang-ups with the English language.

On-screen, their characters were passionate lovers, but once “CUT!” resonated through the set, lips parted and fingernails scratched without mercy. Jaclyn hated Alyssa and the feeling was returned ten-fold – and Jaclyn was so relieved when her agent called her one day with a weekly TV dram offer.

So, in season two of Birthright: the Series, in popped Jaclyn and her character, uber-bitch lawyer Jillian Andersen. It was an easy part to play, considering how fresh Jaclyn’s memories of Alyssa Milano were. Every time she needed to be extra bitchy, she just thought of her former co-star.

“Look, I’m up to my as in this shit as it is … the writers are taking my character in a completely new direction and they never once asked for my input! I mean, I get here and they’ve got me being this really vicious bitch with a taste of the underworld and that was great. Then I’m in love with some emo guy and I’m not so bitchy anymore. Now I’m all bitchy again, running around chasing after some Christian Bale look-alike.

“Now I’m sorry, but the only Bale-chasing I’m doing is after the real deal. These writers have no clue what they’re doing, and it’s starting to show. It’s not just my character, either; a few of the new ones are really hard to grasp.

“What do you mean, what are you supposed to tell Smith? Tell him I’m not doing the fucking movie! I’m never working with Alyssa Milano again, and I will do a sex tape with Paris Hilton before I so much as think of kissing Jason Mewes!

“Yeah, whatever. Call me when you have something good.”

Jaclyn tossed the cell phone onto her bed, sighing again as she stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t much care for the pale look, but it was required for her character; writers kept hinting they’d make her a vampire one day and frankly, she wished they’d just go ahead and do it.

Anything to give Jill a little direction.

Vigor

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 04:48:25 GMT

“Well, look … the roaches have all gathered.”

The smile on Jill’s face as she waltzed into the conference room bordered on psychotic, her folders flopping onto the desk as she surveyed the eight bodies sitting on either side of her. Colleagues, but people Jill hardly knew – and sure as hell didn’t care to.

There was Mr. Parsons, an attorney who specialized in corporate accounting – guy had the IRS in his back pocket, but his eternal fixation with little Thai boys was a tad disturbing. And who could forget Angela Travis, a fat waste of skin with nails that would put most vampire fangs to shame?

But Jill’s smile faded when she laid eyes on the man sitting at the opposite side of the conference table … goddamn Roger McDonnell. The smooth-talking, too-much-hair-gel-using Oklahoma boy who for some reason thought he had a shot at getting under Jill’s skirt.

Never mind the fact that, up until a couple weeks ago, Jill had a boyfriend. And ignore Roger’s sleazy attitude and the fact that he once contracted chlamydia from a For’sak demon. His smile, his oh-so-clever attempt to be flirtatious, just made the young lawyer chuckle to herself.

“Listen up, you worthless fuckers,” she continued, pacing around the table intently. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me the past several months, nor do I really care. Jillian Andersen is back, and she’s here to stay.

“You all know what happened to my secretary. Bitch had it coming … anyone know why?”

Jill’s hand slapped against the back of Roger’s head as she asked, and her face scrunched in disgust when she felt residue from his hair product in her palm. Wiping her hand on Parson’s shoulder, Jill continued.

“Anyone?”

Swallowing hard, Travis raised a finger. “Because,” her voice postured hesitantly, “she was worthless. A liability.”

Jill’s sadistic grin returned. “Exactly. And why was she a liability?”

The eight seated bodies exchanged nervous, uncertain glances, shrugging shoulders and murmuring under their breath. Jill’s smile widened; they were afraid of her. For the first time since before she’d met Oliver, her colleagues at Wolfram & Hart shook at the sight of her.

Her pep talk with Victoria had been just what the doctor ordered. The attorney was annoyed they didn’t consummate anything – Victoria having someone, that dopey redhead, no doubt – but at the end of the day, the vampiress put Jill back on her path. The lawyer was starting to realize again just who she was.

And just how much fun that was.

“She wasn’t down with the mission,” Jill answered with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “She was one of those pointless peons who walk through our doors every day thinking Wolfram & Hart is just a law firm. That all we do is serve clients, keep them out of jail and all that bullshit.

“I’ve heard some of the normals talk … they think working here is the epitome of the law profession. Some douchebag in Human Resources yesterday said that working at Wolfram & Hart was like a sportscaster working at ESPN – the very top of the game.

“See, that’s the problem with this place … the Senior Partners aren’t seeing the big picture. They hire these people to keep public perception, to make people think we’re nice and normal while we plan the Apocalypse.”

Parsons drew Jill’s angry glare as he raised his hand. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Miss Andersen … while we appreciate your renewed vigor and desire to see the firm’s endgame met, it’s not that simple.”

The woman growled, driving Parsons face-first into the table. Busting his nose and drawing blood, Jill threw the old man to the floor, brushing black hair out of her face. “Of course it is,” she bit back, standing over Parsons. “I know what’s going on … the Senior Partners are scared. They got socked in the face a few years back with the L.A. debacle, and now they’re afraid to walk in case they step in a steaming pile of dog shit.

“Well, I’m sorry, but that is not what I came to Wolfram & Hart for. And I am going to do everything I can to see to it that things change around here.”

Parsons coughed blood onto the fine carpet, looking up at Jill. “So,” he mused, “you’re not trying to find a way out of your contract, then?”

Again, Jill growled, grabbing Parsons by his collar and forcing him to his feet, getting in his face. “Where did you hear that?!” she bellowed, spitting in the old man’s face. Her free hand balled into a fist before driving into his large gut, causing his eyes to bulge and a sharp breath to escape from his lips.

Parsons fell to the floor again as Jill stared at the other seven staring at her. She saw fear in Travis’ eyes, but everyone else looked on with no emotion; they knew what was going on, they knew what it all meant.

And they understood.

Drawing a pistol from her blood-red business jacket, Jill cocked it and pointed it at Parsons’ head. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving her free hand dismissively. “Whoever told you was wrong.”

Jill pulled the trigger. Parsons never screamed, his blood exploding onto the carpet and Jill’s suit.

Pocketing the gun, Jill regarded the others again, a darkness in her eyes none of them had ever seen before. She cleared her throat, kicking the body beneath her with her heels. “I am not going anywhere,” she stated with authority. “In fact … I think it’s time I got a promotion.

“Go straight to the Partners, get it myself. Special Projects, people. We’re getting this shit started, with or without you losers. You got that?”

Travis and five of the others nodded in silence before closing their briefcases, rising from their chairs and leaving in a hurry. Travis tripped over Parsons’ body as she left, struggling to get back up because of her size. Jill saw this and chuckled, shaking her head as she drew a knife from the nearby wall and stuck in the back of Travis’ neck, undoubtedly hitting either her brain or her spine.

Either way, her final resting place was right where she wanted to be anyway: on top of Parsons.

Jill sighed when applause came from behind, and she whirled around to see McDonnell standing before her. He had that smug grin of his, a grin that said, “I think I’m hotter than I really am!” Jill cleaned the blade before setting it back on the wall and folding her arms across her chest.

“Yes, Roger?” she sighed in annoyance.

“That was …” McDonnell began, waving his arms, “brilliant, Jill. It’s so nice to have the old you back. What say we celebrate over a drink and, ya know …”

Jill placed a finger on McDonnell’s lips to shut him up, leaning in close. Her lips inches from his, Jill giggled and shook her head. “Haven’t you heard, Rog? I don’t like the pole anymore. So if you’re looking to have a shot with me …” Jill reached between McDonnell’s legs, grabbing, squeezing and twisting violently. “… you might wanna get rid of this.”

McDonnell squealed loud enough to echo through the ninth floor of Wolfram & Hart’s Las Vegas offices, Jill’s satisfied grin radiating as she left the conference room and dialed a number on her cell phone.

“Yeah, Andersen,” she spoke into the phone. “I need to schedule a meeting tomorrow morning.

“Yes … the Conduit and I need to have a talk.”

Not Yet

Sun, 02 Sep 2007 03:53:41 GMT

Jill didn’t really know what she was doing here.

Sure, the Bellagio was one of the nicest hotels in Vegas, bordering on palatial, but what was there for the lawyer here? Aside from an ex-squeeze vampire who may or may not have truly been here? Or an apparent ex-boyfriend with all the money in the world and even more rage?

Like many things the past few days, Jill just didn’t know.

Yet here she stood at Victoria’s door. For minutes she stood in silence, wrestling with herself over whether to knock on the door or just turn and walk out. In a way, she wanted to do both, and some part of her figured if Vicky was in this room, she knew Jill was there. That whole smelling thing.

If that were the case, then Vicky would know Jill was lost, confused. Scared, even. But the question remained … would she care? Jill couldn’t blame her if she didn’t; after all, they’d left on bad terms and what little the lawyer had to say about the vampiress in recent months was … unflattering at best. And it seemed just like Mallory to go yapping to her undead squeeze about what the big, bad lawyer bitch said …

But whatever. Jill had to make a decision, and soon. She figured she’d make the wrong choice either way – she always seemed to – so with a deep breath and a tug on the black business skirt, the attorney lightly wrapped on the door, torn between wanting Vicky to answer or not.

Victoria got a few feet towards the door before that familiar scent hit her. It caused the vampiress to halt in her stride and even change expression. Prior to that, she had been quite relaxed, laying out on the couch and reading a magazine.

Now, though ...

Their last physical meeting had been with Victoria displaying compassion, wishing to prove there were no bad feelings, saying that she would be there, as a friend, if need be. But then came Mallory's recent words, explaining how an argument had taken place, which was to be expected. The things exchanged, however ... it bordered on the positively malicious and Victoria had cared for none of it spoken about her.

She just had not understood why the lawyer had said such things.

Victoria did not spend much time in her hotel room. Her main abode was in the secret room she had set aside for herself, off to the side of her office in Fang Noir. The Bellagio was a place she rented out a room at, on an apparently constant basis. It was nice to sometimes have a place to go, where she was not responsible for the shape, decor or contents. Somewhere to be refreshed, especially in such luxurious surroundings.

So, all in all, that Jill had arrived, no doubt remembering how rare such a stay would be, seemed oddly coincidental. Nonetheless, once thoughts had been gathered, Victoria renewed her pace and opened the door, serious expression set in place.

"Jill ..." Yes, she could sense the fear and certain other feelings being projected. Just did not want to show it yet. "What's up?"

Boy, did Jill ever not know how to answer that question … she gave the best fauz smile she posibly could, hoping her hand didn’t shake too noticeably as she ran it through a tuft of her black hair. She gave a nervous, if not awkward, chuckle, trying to delay the actual speaking as long as possible until she could figure something out.

“Hey,” she said in a weak voice, barely even trying to hide the uncertainty of the whole thing. “Just … popping by … ummm … saying hi … and, uhh …”

Okay, so the thought train derailed. Jill was convinced she had an Amtrak station in her head … she was always late with things and even when a thought did leave the station, it often came to a crashing halt. She sometimes wondered how it was she happened upon a job with Wolfram & Hart with her apparent lack of smarts or anything else.

Oh, that’s right … some dead guy spoon-fed her all the way to the top, feeding her lies and betraying her.

Betrayal …

“Listen,” she added, the lawyer’s expression suddenly turning serious, “I … don’t know how to say this … or, really, do much of anything, but …” Jill sighed, shaking her head. “Can … can I come in?”

Sometimes, it must have seemed to Victoria as if she was the only good Samaritan vampire in the world. Vampires were not meant to experience guilt and that was true enough, for the most part. She did, however, experience pangs of what might be loosely referred to as a sort of ... conscience. A feeling that she should still try and apply herself to karmic rules, even if still basically a supernatural predator.

It was like a guy trying to get in touch with his 'feminine side': not something which seemed natural, yet not without its benefits.

"Gee, I don't know, Jill ... you might go telling your boyfriend I made a move on you and and tell 'someone' to do something about me."

It said with spiteful malice and deservedly so. That was precisely what Mallory had faithfully relayed ot the vampiress, although not without some degree of doubt and consternation. It turned out to be the right decision, however, as Victoria was not so petty as to go out on a revenge spree. No, she had simply taken extra precautions in security.

But still, the knowledge had stung her. She wanted Jill to know that, just by looking into her eyes.

Even so, those eyes eventually softened and Victoria sighed, knowing fully well that the lawyer would not have come here in this state, if whatever had possessed her to threaten such things was still in effect. "C'mon in," she relented and parted the door, stepping to the side as shoulders relaxed. One hand gesturing in to welcome both former lover and vampiric pet through the doorframe.

Unsure of how to respond to the fact that Victoria knew about her threat to Mallory, Jill bowed her head and walked across the threshold, finding herself awkwardly unsure of what to do with herself once she was inside. The place held a lot of memories for Jill, particularly the bed in which she spent so many nights, naked and willing in the vampiress’ embrace … how so many nights she wished to be given that eternal kiss, the one that would rid her of the mortal coil and all its inherent … problems.

Problems she was now forced to stare at, face-to-face. Sometimes the lawyer wondered if maybe her desire to be rid of her pulse wasn’t the right one after all.

“There is no more boyfriend,” she said softly, still not meeting Vicky’s gaze. Guilt, mostly; not just for what she said to Oliver about Vicky, but also because her relationship with Oliver was possible because of how Jill betrayed the vampiress. Leaving her to rot with the other half-breeds in Beowawe, sleeping with Oliver while Victoria was locked up … this was life’s way of getting back at Jill; she just knew it.

“He betrayed me,” Jill said in a near-whisper, shrugging her shoulders. “Guess I gave him reason to … and it’s only fitting, since I … betrayed you …”

Part of Jill wanted to cry, give into the emotions that had racked her for days now. But what was she doing here? Why did she show up at Vicky’s door, when not two months ago she wanted her dusted?

Nothing was making sense anymore.

Memories, indeed. The last time the pair had been in that room, the atmosphere had been a great deal more erotic. It continued to be, to this day, but with a different partner.

A partner who, no doubt, would not take kindly to know that 'the other woman' had once been doing more or less precisely the same thing with Victoria, in that very bed.

Nevertheless, Victoria softened a little bit more, upon hearing the other brunette speak of no longer being in a relationship. Jill's state of being messed up was mostly explained now and if previous matters had not been resolved, then this would have only added to them. As if in recognition of this, the vampiress slumped from the formerly stiff posture at shoulders.

"You know I forgave you for that," Victoria reminded, although with a softer expression than before. "I understood you had your reasons ..."

“Yeah, you did,” Jill said in a soft whisper, her bottom lip quivering. “But I don’t think I did. Least … not now.”

The lawyer stared at her hands, too guilt-ridden to bring herself to look into Victoria’s eyes. Eyes she once let herself get lost in, eyes she once got weak in the knees over. Eyes that might’ve cried when Jill left her to rot in that little camp the so-called pure-bloods were running.

“I’ve learned something the past few days,” Jill continued, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I’m a colossal screw-up. At, like, everything. For the better part of two decades, I had my mentor to take care of everything. If something was wrong, I just ran to David Gregor.

“But then I found out what he was and what he wanted and I did away with him. Like, killed him. Cold blood – twice, even. But now? On my own? I’m terrible … I betray everyone, I do stupid things without realizing or caring, then turn my back when the consequences rear their ugly head … I’m a tremendous fuck-up, Vicky.”

And she lost Oliver because of it.

Victoria would not fault the woman for crying. Jill always did tend to cry in the early stages of an emotional moment, during the time she had known her. It was one of those quirks which made up a person's character. Nor would she fault her for looking at herself in such a way.

Those who did the kind of work Jill did, either learnt to embrace and thrive upon it, or ran the risk of an emotional breakdown. That was the price of being human.

More than once, the vampiress had wondered if a part of Jill had somehow recognized that might be coming down the road, contributing to her need to literally escape from her natural humanity.

"Yeah, well ... I'm not even going to try and begin to list the sort of things I've been through, since we last met," said Vicky, having closed the door and acting on her natural compassionate need to place a comforting arm around the lawyer's shoulders. A familiar sensation, for so many reasons, although emotionally needed now. "But we've all screwed up in various ways. That's how we know who and what we are."

Gesturing with a nod of head, Victoria attempted to usher the woman over to the couch. Better to confide in comfort, rather than stressful standing.

"What matters is how we deal with it, y'know? And I know that sounds like a Jerry Springer thing, but it's true."

Jill gave a soft, sad chuckle as she sat on the couch, feeling herself sink into the cushions. “Springer wouldn’t know what to do with me,” she said. “I’d be the one episode he refused to show on grounds it’d be too graphic and racy.”

The lawyer gave a sigh, shaking her head and brushing away a tear. She’d done hardly anything but cry since Oliver left and she was frankly tired of it.

“He cheated on me,” she whispered, again staring at her hands, which were in her lap. “He got mad once, I freaked … then he disappeared for a bit and fucked a hooker.

“I loved him. Think it was the first time I’d ever really, truly felt love for someone. Well … I loved my parents, before they turned out to be such mouth-breathers. But … he was it, y’know? Then I fucked it up.”

Another sigh, this one a lot heavier than the others. “Now, I want out of Wolfram & Hart and I’ve taken to beating up my co-workers for no real reason.”

"Wouldn't be the first time," Victoria observed, with an amused arch of eyebrow as they sat down. She could recall how Jill used to slaughter her way through company psychics without a care.

The vampiress refused, however, to point out how Jill once professed love for her. Perhaps, she wondered, the lawyer was one of those people who only thought they had 'real' love for their most recent partner, presuming all others were fake. Victoria had not really fallen in love with her, but that did not change what Jill had once declared of her own feelings.

The reason she refused to point that out was that it would serve no purpose in terms of comfort. Comfort was what she felt the other woman needed now.

And yes, no matter how much she had been cursed or indirectly threatened, Victoria would still provide that comfort. Just so long as said-threats were not presently in effect, that was all.

Compassion, indeed, seemed to be one of those qualities Deanna teased Victoria for having. She could not tell if that was because the redhead genuinely lamented her 'masterpiece' on displaying such a trait or, instead, because the elder vampiress just enjoyed ribbing her, but it happened, all the same.

It was true. A vampire with actual compassion was rare, bordering on the impossible. One could only rationalize it by assuming Victoria's constant mortal preparation for vampirism had, in some way, removed shock from the actual transformation. Acclimitizing her, as it were, in advance to that existence.

Whatever it was, she was more of a humanitarian than should have been expected from such a creature.

"Honey," Victoria announced, it being the first time in a long time she had used such a term of affection for the other brunette, "I'm not gonna lecture you ... it'd be wrong of me and, truly, I don't know what went on. But what I do know is that you were one of the most ruthless, powerful women I ever knew. I actually admired you for that. You having that kind of a position in the mortal world and all. It was ... you know ... cool. Sexy. You were like this magnificent creature who could face anyone down with a glare and damn well mean it. You used to worship me, but I never treated you like my personal bitch, because you never deserved that. I was grooming you to be, like, this work of fangy art ... my statement to the world. My way of saying, 'Look! Here's Jillian Andersen! She embraced this thing and it made her perfect!'"

Victoria was not being optimistic for the sake of it. She was speaking of how she had seen things. Wanting to remind the other woman of who she once was. Placing hands upon Jill's, as she spoke in reminder.

"You were this leviathan ... this beautiful thing who could do what she wanted. Do what she wanted, because she knew she could. You've forgotten, that's all ... you've forgotten how. You've put up so many barriers, you've turned your world into a prison."

Victoria was no telepath, but she had recalled a definite change in Jill's personality, over a lengthy period of time. One which was obvious and had known enough about it to speak of things in this way.

"The Jill I knew? The one who could change the world? She'd never be caught dead - or undead - crying over some guy who fucked her over. She'd grab you by the collar, right now and pour acid down your throat, just for thinking it. If he went out and screwed someone else, just because he could, then he's not worth it, Jill. He's not even worth the time."

Jill looked up at Victoria for the first time, seeing the vampiress stare right back at her as the words slowly sank in. In a lot of ways, Vicky was right … Jill had forgotten who she was. Most of the mistakes she’d made in recent months were because of that crisis of identity.

Jill fell in love and completely lost sight of herself, completely lost sight of the mission. David Gregor might’ve lied to her and manipulated her and turned her into a sick perversion of what she could’ve become, but dammit, Jill was the one stupid enough to get all weak and let it get her down.

Victoria was right; the Jillian Andersen who shot up the corporate ladder was long gone, left with a pale shell of a person desperate to break out of shackles she once willingly strapped herself into. Wolfram & Hart was her gig, not Gregor’s, and to be truthful, beating up her secretary the other day felt good.

Not because it let her take out her pain, but because it made her feel powerful. For the first time since she met Oliver.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any acid, would you?” Jill deadpanned with a sniffle. “Cause I can think of a face that’d be perfect to throw it onto.”

Again, the lawyer bowed her head and sniffled. Okay, she figured out that Vicky was right about the identity crisis thing, but what now? What could Jill do now to regain her sense of self? She was essentially a pariah in her own office, and she wasn’t sure Victoria trusted her enough to let her back on the path of the eventually damned.

So even though she knew the what, Jill was still a bit foggy on the how.

Being able to find humor in a situation was one of the clearest signals of focus a human could give. Or vampire, for that matter. There might have been differences of opinion between them in recent times, but Victoria could not help but feel a smile begin to show, for this was the first time something of the old Jill had woken up from a very long slumber.

It was, on some ways, healthy to see, even if others might suffer for it. Considering the social circles in which this corporate shark swam, that would only be a matter of time, in any case.

"Sure. We've got a ton of it down at Fang Noir. Helps with body disposal," Vicky quipped, although not quite letting on as to whether it was the truth or not.

A slight hug was given to the other woman with a friendly, "C'mere ..." Victoria held no malice. Obviously, Jill had been on quite the shitty ride and had probably been influenced by a whole host of things, to start making threats about her. Vicky might not understand it, but neither did she feel that she had to.

So, Victoria was one again wiped her estimation of the lawyer's personal slate clean. She never wanted to be enemies. Never felt there was any reason to be.

"You remind me a little of how I used to be, right now ... back when I ended school," Victoria mused, seeing a similarity. "I didn't really have a clue of what career I should pursue. What I wanted to do in life, if fangs weren't an option. So what if some resurrected corpse got you where you are by lying? You're there now ... that's what counts and you know there's tons of people who'd literally kill to be there. You're like one of those celebrities who feels like the world wants to kill her ... they always forget how damn cool it is to have done the kinds of stuff they have. To be who they are. I bet you see all kinda employees at that place who wish you were dead, right? Revel in it! Enjoy it! That's how you get the final say and win!"

Jill sighed, melting herself into the hug. She didn’t know why, but this just felt right. Over the past few days, it was the only thing that did.

“Love blinded the hell out of me,” she said with a disgusting twinge when she released herself from the hug. “Before … him, I had it all figured out, like you said. Then he comes along, shows me those dark eyes, plays the ‘I’m so tortured’ card and next thing I know, clothes are on the floor and I’m making the nasty with him in ways I never thought I would.

“And because of … whatever it was he and I had, I lost sight of … so many things. Least of which who I am and what I want.”

Which begged the question … what did Jill want?

Ever the apparent counsellor, Victoria leaned back slightly, taking in the whole of Jill with a practiced eye. She had done it plenty of times before, although now it was to gauge her.

"You know what I think?" she asked, rhetorically. "Maybe law's boring you ... maybe that's what it is? You told me how that place has a hand in just about everything. What about requesting a transfer to some other department. Heck, if I'd turned you, maybe they'd have fitted you up in some super-secret catsuit and had you killing all these VIPs!" Victoria surmised with a giggle. "They've gotta have a temptation for just about everything. I'd bet you could just switch career tracks and it'd make a whole new you. It's worth a try, right?"

A jocular clearing of throat.

"Changing career, that is ... not me turning you," she corrected with a hint of nostalgic grin.

Jill giggled. “Wolfram & Hart’s own Dark Angel,” she said with a grin. “Taking care of the nasty business they don’t want anyone to know about … the kind of stuff that’s for their eyes only.”

Wow. Now didn’t that just sound like some sci-fi show that would get shitcanned by the network after a season or two? Either way, if it meant Jill could run around in black leather … it wasn’t a terrible thought to entertain.

“When I was a kid,” she said, “I wanted to be a cop. Just like daddy. He worked homicide, worked night and day to put the scum of the earth behind bars. He was a hero – well, I thought he was.

“I was big on heroes back then. Even as I grew older, that didn’t change. Loved comic books and sci-fi stuff … ya know, chick power, that sorta thing. My favorite X-Men were women, I loved Witchblade, watched Alias religiously …”

The lawyer’s voice trailed off, her eyes growing darker. “But heroes?” she added. “Not that big anymore. I mean, yeah … you’ve got Slayers and shit like that, but c’mon … when you’re resorting to shoving souls up vampires’ asses to get them to fight on your side? The bad guys are winning.

“And I’m on the winning team.”

Victoria just nodded. In a way, the conversation had given her some relief. They were actually getting on together again. It was nice.

"Well, you won't find me disagreeing with that," the vampiress responded, smiling. Because, to her, darkness seemed to pretty much have the run of things. It was surprising to sometimes see just what level of things she could get away with, even in public. The authorities had never investigated, that was for sure.

Heck, her own relatives still did not know she had died.

"Maybe I'm right, then ... a change of career's what you need. Time to be a supervillain, Jill, not a superhero!"

Jill smirked. If she was out to be a superhero, she was so working for the wrong company. But Victoria was right in saying there was a need for change in Jill’s life, and what better time to take that change than now?

Oliver was gone; that much was pretty certain. And seeing as how her de-bitch-ifying seemed to take place right about the time he strutted into the lawyer’s life, it made perfect sense for Jill to find her bitch again now that he was gone.

So the attorney flashed a smile at Victoria, a dark smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief and that fire she once had in her eyes every day she walked into her office. “You’re right,” she said with a menacing chuckle, “the Senior Partners see something in me; not sure what, but that’s not important. Time for Jill to be a bitch again.”

"Well, maybe not a complete bitch," Victoria warned, although light-heartedly. "Don't just go being evil for the sake of it ... do it for a reason and do it with style. That's what separates me from my ... lesser brethren," she clarified, diplomatically.

Victoria had never lost her adoration for the concept of vampirism. She still “cared” for other vampires, so to speak, but had also come to realize, at almost the very beginning of her proverbial initiation, that a great many of them did little more than spend their time in bullying arrogance. To Victoria, that was not what being a vampire should be about. To her, it was a gift and gifts should be used wisely.

"Remember, it's like being a lady," she explained. "If you have to prove to people that's what you are, then you're not."

“Well … being evil’s the only thing I really know how to be,” Jill mused with a shrug of her shoulders. Knowingly or otherwise, she’d been evil or something resembling the sort for most of her life. So much so that the days of her as a child looking up to her parents and longing to be a beacn of good felt like they happened to someone else.

Goodie-goodie was so not Jill’s thing.

Love had caused the lawyer to lose sight of herself and the things that mattered to her. And sure, Gregor lied to her for nearly her entire life, but that didn’t change the fact that she was damn good at her job and the adrenaline rush she got from it on occasion was second to none.

And, though she’d tried so hard to deny it when she was with Oliver, she still found vampires … incredibly alluring.

Well, this was neat. Jill was back to her old self, even actually looking more healthy than she had for ages. The latter could have been Victoria's imagination, of course, although she was sure the woman would soon find the same old swing in her step again.

Old days ...

It was probably unavoidable that Victoria found her gaze moving down her old lover's body, thoughts wandering. Not simply because of the obvious, but because she was literally a vampire and the knowledge of Jill relishing her bite would be a memory the befanged brunette would always retain fondly, regardless of other events.

By the time her gaze had drifted down to knees, Vicky caught herself and, blinking smiled politely, forcing herself to a stop. She was in an actual relationship now. Going back to the old days of polygomy was probably something a certain redhead would not thank her for.

Of course, Mallory did not have the need to find a pretty neck and bite into it, every so often. For Victoria, it was a survival necessity.

"Well," the vampiress began, clearing throat, "I was going out in a while, I need to try and find a ... succubus," she said, halting slightly in the realization of how odd that must have sounded. "She's a friend. Almost killed a friend of a friend of mine. We need to have words."

Jill grinned to herself, sensing Victoria’s eyes on her. She nibbled lightly on her lower lip, taking in a deep breath. “I could be your … succubus,” she said surprsingly in a matter-of-fact tone, her voice betraying the desire she couldn’t deny building up inside.

It would probably complicate things if Jill and Vicky renewed their mutual lust. Probably moreso than Jill realized. But the days of her caring about that were pretty much over; she fell in love and the sensation disagreed with her, so she was pretty much back to going after what she wanted and doing what felt good.

And if her memory served, Vicky felt very good.

Victoria neither did or said a thing. Her gaze had settled on Jill's face and skin tingled with realization of what was up. She could smell it, too. Vampirism definitely had its benefits.

"I see," said the paler brunette, neither seeming to condemn nor condone the obvious flirtation. One hand reached out and played loosely in the lawyer's hair, letting old feelings settle back again. She would not deny that they had experienced plenty of fun times and part of her could not help but wonder if Jill was also wishing for their old dynamic, of nocturnal predator and prey, to come back into play again.

That would be fun, too ... and she had not drained anyone for a while.

She could do it easily. Seducing Jill would be territory with which Victoria was intimately familiar. Heck, she could even kill her, if she wanted to. Have her guiltless fun and dispose of hte body, without a second thought.

But that was for other vampires. Doing such a thing, recent events of influence excluded, simply was not Victoria. It would be so wasteful.

Nevertheless, Victoria was still interested and leaned forward, still playing with the hair. Her other hand atop Jill's. It was an admiring pose, looking her over like a piece of unsculpted art.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Jill’s eyes locked on Victoria’s for a moment, and she felt her heart skip. This wasn’t love – and of that, Jill was so glad – but it was something. Something familiar yet brand new at the same time. A tiny smile played across the lawyer’s blood-red lips, her head cocking to the side.

“I would,” she spoke softly.

Damn the consequences. Jill was through worrying about what others thought of her or what she did. She didn’t become a Wolfram & Hart bitch by worrying about others; she did it by doing things her way, because she felt like it.

And right now, she felt an itch that needed scratching.

"Hmm... I would, too," mused Victoria, repositioning slightly, sliding into a more mutually beneficial position. She could feel the other woman's body up close, like this, gravity playing its part. She had not been flush up against Jillian for quite some time. It was a nice sensation.

"I think about it, y'know ... us ... what we did ... the kind of things we planned to do ..."

It was an oddly erotic thing she was doing. The vampiress right up close, yet she was doing very little. It was the sheer proximity which made it fun. Victoria's face was less than an inch away, letting her breathe in the lawyer's scent, breath washing over human skin every time she spoke.

Victoria could do anything her mind or body desired to. Knew Jill would let her, too.

"I remember the sounds you made ... the smells ... your taste ... everything about you ..."

She could feel Jill's heart racing. The woman was in heat. Little wonder, really. The kind of sex games that pair used to get up to were often as kinky as they were dangerous.

"But all I can offer you is a bite, honey ... I'll even turn you, if that's what you want. We just can't do ... that."

Relenting, Victoria kissed her on the forehead, sighing in demonstration of such a conclusion not really being what she physically wanted. It was a case of having to, not wanting to.

"I'm kind of with someone, baby ... like, properly. I'd love to, I really would ... I just can't. And believe me, I'll be regretting not taking advantage of you, I really will ... I just think I'll regret it even more if I did, that's all."

Again, Jill cocked her head to the side, a look of befuddlement on her face. She didn’t care that Vicky was seeing someone – and she really didn’t care who – she was just dumbfounded by the vampiress’ apparent showing of a conscience.

“A vampire with a conscience?” she asked, standing and lightly brushing finger along Vicky’s cheek. “And no soul? How curious …”

"Well, you know what I think about that," Victoria replied, smiling graciously as she, too, raised to her feet. They used to have all sorts of conversations about vampirism, back when Jill wanted to join her in such a state of being. Vicky had spoken on her feelings about how she was not convinced her kind lost their souls; mainly because, aside from the reduction of guilt and new physiology, she did not feel very different inside.

In some way connected to a “larger sense of darkness,” so to speak, but nothing was there to make her feel the actual soul had just disappeared.

She remembered telling Jill that it would be up to her. It would be her decision. So far as Victoria was concerned, though, she had no proof, either way.

She did think it was weird, however; that the possibility existed of the old her wandering around in limbo or possibly heaven. That, if so, she might technically be able to “communicate” with herself.

In truth, she preferred it to stay a mystery. If it was ever proven that she was, indeed, fully demonic, instead of just tainted, then it rather made a mockery out of her life-long search for vampirism.

She would literally be an imposter to herself.

It was not a possibility Victoria particularly liked to entertain.

"And you can call it a conscience if you want ... I call it, getting my ass kicked," Vicky said, smiling. "Nah ... I've just got this thing about karma. Which, I realize, is weird, considering what I am ... but I seduce, I don't go out commiting wholesale murder. Sometimes I think unlife would be easier if I did, though."

Whatever happened in the future, Victoria wrapped the other woman into a hug, squeezing tight.

"It's good to have you back, Jill ..."

Jill returned the hug with something she thought might be passion, but she wasn’t quite sure. Giving a pat to the small of Vicky’s back, the lawyer grinned, whispering in her ear. “You don’t have me back yet,” she said pointedly. “But you will.”

With that, attorney gave vampire a peck on the cheek, and it appeared her grin grew a little. Did Jill want to be a vampire again? She wasn’t sure, and that was another question for another night. For now, she was back on track in figuring out who Jillian Andersen was and what she wanted out of her life.

Not being attached to anyone romantically anymore was a very promising start. And, in spite of the disappointment she felt over Victoria’s decision to remain faithful, Jill would not be deterred.

“You most certainly will.”

Bitch Sometimes

Fri, 24 Aug 2007 01:37:07 GMT

“No, fuck YOU, Senator! … Well, you know what? I don’t care! Go ahead and tell Mr. Gregor how uncooperative a little bitch I am!

“And good luck hearing back from him, cause his worthless ass is worm food now!”

Without even bothering to hand up, Jill took the entire phone console on her desk and tossed it across the room, relishing the loud crash it made as it broke into pieces and fell to the floor. She could barely see the phone in the darkness of her office – thanks to the blinds being completely closed, hiding the Vegas skyline from the lawyer’s view – but she knew she’d done her job cause that blinking red light was gone.

Silence. Complete and total silence. For the first time in what seemed like years, Jill felt at peace. Alone, in her office, with not one damn thing disturbing her. The only reason she sat here was to get out of her apartment; knowing one more second in that bastion of instability would drive her insane.

Though she was alone there now, Jill could hear the screams of her ex-lover bouncing off the walls. His voice reverberated in her ears, and it made her cringe, even as she sat in her office, the only sound filling the room being the air passing through her lungs. Tears threatened her eyes, but the attorney sucked them back.

“Ms. Andersen?” a voice came timidly from what was now an open office door. Jill didn’t even look up to see her secretary standing by the door with a horrified look on her face; she was too busy pulling a pistol out of her desk drawer and shooting the frightened woman in the knee cap.

An evil glint shone in Jill’s eye as she watched the woman whose sole purpose in life was to fill her coffee mug fall to the floor with a blood-curtling scream, grabbing her bleeding knee and sobbing angrily.

Resting the gun by her keyboard, Jill stood and walked over to her secretary, a thin blonde thing whose name the attorney suddenly realized she didn’t remember. Without saying a word, the lawyer grabbed the secretary by her ponytail and forced her to her feet. Jill gave the shaking woman a once-over before grabbing her black-rimmed glasses, ripping them from her face and crushing them in her hand.

Dropping the broken glasses to the floor, Jill’s mouth curled into a disgusting smile … a smile that only widened once the secretary whimpered in fear. There was something to be said for pointless, no-reason-at-all violence, and Jill was already feeling better as she raked her fingernails along the blonde’s cheek, drawing blood.

Jill couldn’t help but giggle as she brought index finger to her lips, parting them so her tongue could snake out and collect the blood from her secretary’s cheek. The slightly copper flavor immediately filled her senses, and the warmth that overcame the lawyer when she swallowed was so powerful, so immense, she shivered at it.

“Wow,” she cooed, glaring through hooded eyes at the shaking blonde. “I’d about forgotten what that was like.”

“Please,” the secretary pleaded in a shaky tone. “Just … please.”

Jill rolled her eyes, slapping the blonde across the face, leaving more scratches across her cheek. “Now that’s pathetic,” she growled. “You work for Wolfram & Hart, Miss … whoever the fuck you are. Show a little goddamn backbone once in a while!”

Another slap to the face, the blonde screaming in pain and falling to her knees. Jill shook her head, removing one of her black Stiletto heels before grabbing her secretary by the ponytail again, forcing her back to her feet.

“You scared?” Jill asked incredulously. “What’s the matter? I show a bit of a temper and you get all weak in the fucking knees? Well, then you would’ve absolutely pissed yourself if you’d met my ex-boyfriend!

“Cause he had him one nasty little temper. Not to mention this disgusting habit of going out and finding some crudded-up hooker with lord knows what crawling around in her vag … only to give her good money so he could fuck the shit out of it! All the while I’m sitting at home, diddling in my own pooter and wondering where the fuck the man who promised to get me out of this hellhole is!”

Jill accentuated the last point with a fist to her secretary’s stomach. She cackled at the sickening wheeze that came from the girl, watching her double over before jamming her knee into the blonde’s nose. Blood splattered onto the carpet and the secretary stumbled backward, covering her face as tears smeared her mascara.

“You’re pathetic,” Jill growled, spitting in her secretary’s face. Then, without saying another word, Jill took the shoe in her hand and jabbed the pointed heel into the blonde’s eye. More blood flew into the air, landing on the carpet and spotting on the lawyer’s pale face. The blonde’s scream echoed off the walls of the entire floor, other employees stopping and peeking through the open door to Jill’s office.

She grabbed the blonde by the arm and shoved her back out into the lobby area of the floor. “Get your ass to medical and have them look at that,” she griped. “And after that, pack up your shit and find another job. If you don’t, the next heel’s going through your lung.”

Seeing the gazes of everyone surrounding them, Jill snarled and pointed at the secretary hobbling away with the shoe in her eye. “Bitch had it coming,” she barked, slamming her office door shut behind her. “Bad coffee.”

So again Jill was alone in her office, nothing to keep her company but her thoughts. Thoughts that scared her, thoughts she wanted nothing to do with. Removing the other shoe and placing it on the desk next to her gun, Jill sighed and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

Lighting one, the lawyer stared at the closed window, enjoying the dark. She could still feel the blood coursing through her veins and for a brief moment, she stood taller and had an air of confidence on her face. But that quickly faded as she took her first drag, still stuck in a reality without the man she loved.

Still stuck in a reality where he betrayed her … much the way she’d betrayed Victoria and, before her, Katherine.

Karma was such a bitch sometimes.