𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗥 | the boys 2

𝘷) 𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒

"There's no point - she could be anywhere by now."

"She went to fucking die for you!" Hugh looked around at The Boys for backup,"Wh-h... you let her die, then? That's what you did? You didn't just abandon us, you left her as well."

"I did not let that fucking kid die." Butcher's volume wavered. "She's a perfectly smart and capable girl, she can find us, easy. She'll turn up any minute now."

"Fuck yeah she will, bitches."

Something that sounded like it was trying to be victorious or grand rung through The Boys' ears, accompanied by clicking footsteps of platformed, black Dr Martens boots down the stairs. Had it not been for the crusty, red hand print fused to the side of her jaw, not even Butcher would've given her a second glance on the street. A cracked, cloudy amulet hung over her grey sweatshirt, a sleeved shirt with square patterns of black, orange and white peeking around her collar and cuffs. The only familiar thing about her clothes was the comfy pair of black pants she adorned before this mass of separation, riled half way up her legs, revealing a pair of odd, neon socks with a million ruffles in each of them. Additionally, her hair was tied up into a bun high at the back of her head to hide it's natural length but her skin somehow worse - stretched, dark eyes, bags like panda's patches and grey, pasty cheeks. In short, she did not look like Rowan Fields.

The Boys continued to relentlessly gawp at her, prompting a small chuckle to erupt as she continued to stand in the middle of the stairs, exposed from all angles. "Okay, I'm sorry for calling you bitches, I'm just a little worked up."

"That's it?" M.M. shrugged judgmentally.

"Nice to see you, too, M.M." Rowan nodded, strolling down towards them and slipping her trusty, old satchel from her shoulder and down by the sofa.

"Nice to see you, too." He crossed his arms,"Rowan."

This wasn't going to work out as she hoped. Her head bowed to the ground in shame, lips pursing and eyes beginning to shine. Why are you starting to cry already? Why are you so weak?

She gazed around the room, at the equally confused and concerned adults, and declared loudly, throwing her hands up,"I'm sorry, okay?" The sound of her voice led them to believe she was about to burst into tears. "I betrayed you, I know. I made a choice and I was a dick. I keep thinking it'll make things better but it just fucking hurts more!" She yelled. "I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The short, uncomfortable silence was broken by Hughie,"You... you keep thinking?"

"This was a mistake," She made for the front door, but was grabbed by Kimiko from the couch, who pulled away when she snatched her hand away and scowled hatefully. "I gotta' go." She sighed, pushing past them and into the back where she only assume was Hughie's room because of the James Taylor shirt crumpled on the floor.

____________________

"Thank you very much, I did not even get a word in." Frenchie threw his hands up.

"Listen, it was her choice to leave us!"

"No, it wasn't." Butcher intervened. "She was always gonna' fucking go for him, it was inevitable."

"Well, she doesn't look like she was kidnapped." M.M. pointed out.

The Boys simply stared, waiting for someone to interrogate him further. "Messiure Charcuter," Frenchie began,"What do you really know?"

The snide cockney glanced around in the direction she had disappeared to before explaining, volume much more under control,"Look, we got separated and she found me - all sweaty, bleedin' and quiet. Said they got her on sedatives, asking where you lot were hiding. Then she just... left. Believe me, I ain't got the fuckin' foggiest of what she's been doing."