[A/N] Hi...I finished my HW early and needed a creative outlet.  I'm also SUPER anxious for this story to pick up.  I know a lot has happened already and it's taken a long time but I have SO many more plans for this fanfic.  (I should probably break it up into like, 2 parts or something.)

This is a really pinnacle point though because, well, as Em heals and Black Jack becomes a regular character, organized crime becomes more of a common phenomon in the story.  I get to use all my sociopathic research frenzies on the subject finally. ;D

Votes and comments are greatly apreciated.  

Btw: If you wanna a likeness of yourself to appear as a high class gangster's girlfriend, that can happen.  I'm looking for inspiration for her.  Over time she's kinda supposed to be Em's introduction into how to express female sexuality and identity, and the thought of that being enjoyable and worth while.  Like a sex-ed teacher + stylist + older sister type in general.  (Who also has guns hidden in her lingerie. xD)  even if you just have thought for what she should look like/what her name should be that'd be cool.  I'll keep brainstorming on my end. :P



When I was a kid a bird hit our kitchen window, it became stunned and broke it’s wing.  I kept it in a shoebox and gave it some water and sesame seeds.  It died within an hour.  Mum had said it broke it’s neck and there was nothing I could do.  I didn’t believe her at the time.  I was sure if I had done something better the little sparrow would have pulled through.  It was this sureness that was keeping me standing as I gripped Em’s good leg, holding it to the table after it had kicked out earlier. 

After the man dropped dead beneath Em, she had fallen simultaneously with his corpse, her head hitting the floor, lying limply as if stunned.  I had let go of Liam who had practically tried crack his skull on the cage.  Then four big bouncer type guys bustled through, two dragging out the heavy and dumb looking body, while two more carefully lifted Em out of there.  A man with a white jacket on screaming at people to get out of the way bustled over, then immediately checked her pulse.

He probably should have checked the other’s guy first, only I don’t think anyone didn’t hear the snap his neck made.  I shuddered at the thought.  My eyes looked over at her face.  It was still rather bloody, even though Liam had diligently been wiping it clear.  Her eyes were closed, tracks of what seemed like never ending tears dripping down, wetting the tips of her ears and creating tracks over her face that glittered. 

It wasn’t pretty, none of it.  Her skin was puffy and bruised, and though it elicited pity there was a level of revulsion at all the blood.  At least she had stopped screaming.  It was her cries that had driven Zayn from the room; he couldn’t take it.  I didn’t blame him.  I covered my ears at one point, before Louis smacked my hands off my head and said,

“Bloody hell Harry; could you do something worth while?”  Then the doctor was shouting for someone to hold down her leg as she flailed and screamed on the table.  She had come out of her daze from the ring as soon as he put her jaw back into place.  So I did something worthwhile. 

She was silent then, Liam and I having soothed her enough I suddenly wondered why I did it.  She had purposely pushed me away, snuck off here and didn’t even want us here.  She looked like shit, had kissed Liam –who thought I didn’t see and for Christ’s sake she killed a man.  Why the hell should I help her get better?  Why the hell was I there?

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