Ami-chan Writes

I don't know how much later it is because after I washed Evi off me I ashamedly broke my wean myself off rule and found one of remaining stashes on the boat and shot the world away to the tune of the thunder, but anyway, a thunk and splash is what rouses me. My first thought, of course, is Evi throwing things at the window.

I can picture her on the dock, disheveled, wet, doing her best to look like a lost puppy. She'll have made sure not to bring any of her things, pouting at me, pleading to get back up into the state room and my pants.

I can vaguely hear a voice through the wind and rain, but not loud. I unlock the door and it slams louder than I intend it to against the cabin wall, given the wind, but the effect is good and dramatic. I stalk to the railing.

“Evi—if that's you so--!” but when I look down it's definitely not Evi.

A shorter white woman with a taller man, who either has a really close shave or is completely bald. He's not Caucasian but that's all I can really tell from this distance. She has brown or black hair given it's plastered to her head from the rain. I can't make out the eyes from here, but the shape and form. It really does look like Julia. Her hair is shorter than I remember but then mine is probably longer than she does, anyway.

“Julia?”

“Yes, Boss!” she calls, “I'm sorry to wake you up? But I saw the light.”

I did leave half of them on when I passed out, true.

“and,” she continues, “I wouldn't forgive myself if when I saw the old girl I just walked on by.”

There's some talk between her and the guy and she laughs. I realize how much I've missed that sound, and then I'm hit by shame because she's the one who helped me get clean last time. If she does know that she did she didn't say anything before I last saw her. Now here I am using again. I doubt Garland would have told her.

“Boss meet new Boss Man,” she says, introducing the man next to her, “I have clearance to spend some time catching up, that is, if I have permission to come aboard.”

I push the gangway back out to the dock and make an exaggerated bow, “Please do come aboard.” I lean against the railing next to the gate of the gangplank and hope that I'm not to wonky.

“See you in a bit,” she says to her boss, and climbs up, and then helps pull the gangway back up.

I hit her with the cheesy, “Of all the places in all the world. Did not expect to find you here.”

She laughs, “I must admit any time I've gone through other ports I've kept an eye out for you two.” She waves back to her 'Boss Man' whose name I'm apparently not going to get as he walks down the harbor, “so, problems?”

“Well, if you see either an irritated black woman with curly dark hair or one that is trying to put on the I'm a poor pathetic put upon badly done to waif act out there watch yourself.”

“Going to need slightly more to go on.”

“I'm sure I have pictures somewhere. Or who knows might have not given her back all her fake passports.”

Julia laughs, “Still on those 'perfectly legal' jobs, I see,” she said as she followed him into the state room.

“Man's gotta make money. What else would you expect?”

“That's true.”

She looks around the helm and then the state room cabin and the galley which I now realize in my wish for oblivion I didn't clean up at all from Evi's tantrums.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“The woman I was talking about. Messy break up. It was very recent.”

She picks up a passport that's on the counter and flips through it. Ah, shit. Well now she'll know what Evi looks like at least, but I am getting a horrified and skeptical look all at once.

“Evelyn Crocker?”

“Just for a job. Her actual name is Evidence Ryan.”

“Evidence?” Now Julia is just amused.

I flop onto the couch, and then realize I should actually clean up. Fuck, “Yeah, that should have been a sign really.”

“Are you okay, Duke?” she sits down on the other side of me, dropping the passport on the table in front of us.

“Yeah,” though now I'm feeling more awkward. What's she seeing? “...it was a thing that shouldn't have been...hence the--” I wave towards the kitchen, and being dishonest at this point. I should just say what's going on and let her make her own decision.

“You just...” she looks away for a moment. She's stilted herself, “You're reminding me of right around that time you got that awful stomach flu.”

Well, fuck.

“Could you be coming down with something?”

I can't help the sardonic laugh that escapes, because it's coming down but that joke is going nowhere fast. Honesty before you chicken out, bastard, “That...wasn't...stomach flu.” Besides, she's been out in the world now, who knows how much she knows now she's away from her bitch of a sheltering Mom.

“Wait--” she says, leaning closer, a variety of expressions I'm too foggy to interpret cross her face, “Are you telling me you had those moments of acting crabby, distant and snotty because you were high?”

Okay, so now, does she know exactly how and what?

It's a bit of a weight off but not all of it when I say yes to that. I wait for her to yell at me and tell me how much I disgust her and then storm out.

That doesn't happen.

She is clearly thinking some things through though. I

I'm still waiting for her to just leave and I'm about to stand up when she leans over and puts her hand on my knee, “so you really think my ass is attractive?”

Now I'm confused. I can't remember much of what happened back then but I know I've thought that for a long time so I can imagine blabbing it out in my heroin fever with Julia there in the room, and all the time I'd spent keeping that bottled up because if she knew—given everything. She'd be so grossed out. Or her Mom would really put a clamp on her hanging out with the town black sheep. She's waiting for your answer, idiot.

“Not...not just your ass.”

Crap, now she looks really flustered. If the drug admission didn't scare her off maybe this one will. She seems to have about six different sentences that collide and die on her lips, and I want to kiss them off her face, but this is not the time at all.

“We should have a talk about all the things we should have when we were teenagers.”

“Okay.” Now I'm both intrigued and slightly scared but I don't know what to say.

“Don't be nervous,” she says, and pats my leg before reaching for my hand.

“Okay.” Is all I can muster again. I'm not sure if I'm getting warm because of her or other things.

“Boss, I had a crush on you for the longest time. I never said anything because I thought you would think I was a stupid little girl. You—well, you were off with all these other older—well, older than me—girls and women, and I didn't want to get laughed off your boat. Besides if my Mom ever found out that I had a crush on you she would bar me from leaving the house.”

“If she ever found out I had the hots for you she would have roused the town with pitchforks and a hanging rope--”

Julia laughs but then says soberly, “You're probably right. It might be best we didn't find out until now.”

“Am I actually hallucinating?” I ask her. I have been weaning myself off. At least I intend to. I'm trying. Right? How much did I take after the shower. This could actually be fucking Evi, right? I never told her about Julia though. Subject change is good.

“I'm here, Boss. Maybe more talk when you're a bit more...” she hesitates then, “clear headed? I don't want to get into your...business, but given--”

“No. That is what...” I move my hand from hers, “there's a whole.”

“I did think I saw a bunch of smashed syringes so--”

“I am,” I shake my head, “if you mean trying to clean up again. Yes. That's a whole part of the blow up and a lot of explanation that I just...”

“It's okay,” she says, “I'm proud of you.”

Don't cry. I feel my hand being squeezed again.

“How can we get you to rights?”

“I don't want to take you away from whatever it is that you're—why are you? How are you even in Africa? Eleanor Carr—letting you leave Haven.”

“She thinks I'm with Doctors without Borders,” Julia says drily.

“You're not with Doctors without Borders?” she's smart enough to be surely.

“No,” she says, “but there's time for that later. We need to get you settled first.”

“Well, you have whatever you're doing.” I point out, “and I--”

“Are you trying to push me away? After the conversation we just had about all the other things?” Julia says, “Boss.” She reaches for me harder as I was trying to get up, “Duke. I helped you not even knowing what was going on. If you think finding out is going to make me turn away what kind of person do you think I am?”

There's that old embarrassment, shame and guilt again. I really don't know what to say because she is right.

“It's not so much you.” I point out.

“You deserve the help, and besides now that we're done with the weather witch I have some free time I can probably, definitely, use.”

“Weather...”

She makes a face, “Oh the Troubles—did—did you not know? They happen outside of Haven all the the time just not so much—just--”

Images of people's heads being yanked off by that vile tongue stream across my mind.

My throat is just not. I know I'm swallowing a lot.

“Duke?”

“No...I know...” I manage, pulling myself up and making my way back to the galley to try and find some sort of liquid.

It takes a moment to realize Julia is there helping me.

“I'm not going to ask you to explain right now,” she says, “whatever that was has you shook, but I do think it will be good for you to talk about it--”

I look down at the glass and my feet and then slightly up at Julia's face, “You're probably right.”

“Of course I am,” she says, with that quirked up smile, but then there's a sigh, “I'm sure there's something I need to dig out somewhere anyway, but that's for after.”

“During might be a good distraction.”

“How about we'll see?” She says, “At least if I know what this actually is I might be able to prepare better,” she says, “I'm sure there's other tools I can get hold of that will help you better than just ibuprofen and pepto bismol.”

“I suppose so. I just—and it's hero--”

“Heroin?” she asks, and then adds, “what is it?”

Because my expression had to have changed despite my best efforts because acknowledging the root of my addiction brought the memory of what is lurking in the bowels of the ship smacking me in the chin.

Stupid.

“Slight wrinkle.”

“Okay?”

“I may also have several kilos of it in the hold which are supposed to be off the coast of Portugal soon.”

“Slight wrinkle?” Julia demands, “That's more a divot the size of the Grand Canyon. I thought running drugs was--” the catch there is like a plane engine chewing up a bird.

“It's a big part of why Evi and my relationship,” I make the kapow sign, “there's a bunch more sordid details. Safe to say if I'm not out there the divot will become the Marianas Trench.”

I slide down to the floor leaving my cup on the counter. Thinking is not becoming the best either right now. It needs to not.

“Not a good tangle.” Julia says.

“No. Kicking the bitch out was a start. Don't know if it was the right one but it's done now and so there.” I lean my head back. Do I have anything in here? “I'm still stuck with the cartel though.”

“Harder to break up with.” Julia adds.

“Decidedly.” Fuck. If she wasn't right here I could go to the bedroom.

No.

Quitting. There's still—is there still some in the state room? I think I got rid of that. Fuck you're a mess—had that shit everywhere. Are they even going to be happy to deal without Evi?

“You doing okay?” she crouches down.

“Fine.”

She looks stung. That must have been sharp.

No. You're not okay, “No. I'm—sorry.”

“Okay,” she sighs, drawing herself to her feet, “Let's figure nothing is really going to get sorted today. I have to sort things out with the other Boss Man anyway.” She offers me a hand and then waves it at me in an order fashion telling me to get to my feet when I don't immediately do so, “I can't actually just sail off into the sunset with the old girl.”

“Pitchforks?”

“Not with The Guard. I'll explain later.” She adds because who the fuck are The Guard? and the way she says them all Capital Letters and Important, “but if they thought you'd actually dare kidnap me they might worry more about you than me.”

I have to laugh at that but my hair is starting the hurt.

“Promise me you won't take matters into your own hands on any front.” She says, “Take what you need so you can get through the night and have a functioning brain tomorrow.”

“Do you still have your key?”

There's a moment of hesitation that crosses her face, where she looks down and away, “Uh, yes.” she says, quietly.

“Okay. I can't leave the gangplank down. In case of Evi.”

“Don't worry, Boss. I know how to get on board. As long as I'm invited.”

“You are invited.”

Always.