Happy Saturday!
(As always) this is unedited and imperfect. Not at all happy with the first couple of paragraphs, but CBA with this one anymore. Things get interesting in the next chapter, which will be a Loooooong one (just to prewarn ya!)
(C)copyright SJCLewis2020
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Friday dawned wet and gloomy.
Minerva was already sitting at the kitchen table by the time Darcie was up and dressed. It was plainly obvious- from all the books and empty Redbull cans strewn across almost every surface - that she'd been sat there all night. Red-eyed and dog-tired, she had only raised her arms in weary triumph in response to Darcie's question of " Have you finished, then?", and Darcie had emitted a small sigh of relief as she'd made them both toast and coffee. The dissertation deadline was now mere hours away.
They'd sat on the bus into town in companionable silence, and Darcie was mildly surprised -though thankful- that neither Tito, nor Audrey, nor Bash had appeared. They parted ways at the print shop, Minerva anxiously joining the queue of students at the door, and Darcie heading straight for the Radcliffe Camera.
Thank fuck for that.
She made it to the Gladstone link just as it opened, and managed to bag one of the coveted spots opposite the stairs before the desks became too crowded. By 10am the library was full, Oxford and Brookes Students alike all cramming for exams and frantically trying to complete essays. Darcie was sure that the expression of grim exhaustion on so many faces was also plastered across her own as she fired up her laptop. She had plenty of time to complete her final assignment - a 3000-word analysis of humourism in Shakespeare- but after her dissertation, she was struggling to find the motivation to study.
Her laptop - old and slow- whirred loudly, as if in protest at all the software Darcie had demanded it run, and it was a few minutes before the blank word processor opened on screen. Savouring this moment wherein she was forced to sit and do nothing, Darcie considered her hands, her mind wandering away from the library and the task at hand and back to 153 Heavitree road. Despite already succeeding in dragging herself up and all the way into town, the urge to put off work in favour of returning to bed to watch Netflix all day was so strong it almost won out. Almost...
Her phone, which lay on the desk atop one of her many notebooks, lit up as a message from Minerva flashed across the screen. Darcie glanced gloomily towards it, and just caught the words 'Printed and off to submit...' before the screen faded to black again. She sighed bitterly. The thought of Minerva, unkempt, unwashed, and nearly sick with stress and exhaustion, presenting her dissertation to the exam office so perilously close to the deadline, was just enough to spur her into action. Reluctantly, she opened her notebook and pulled out the list of references she'd complied during her last lecture.
Ugh, where to even begin?
The first book on the list, Shakespeare and the Four Humours, had been particularly recommended by her tutor, and Darcie figured that was as good a place to start as any. Grudgingly, and with another sigh, she pushed back her chair and made for the shelves with the corresponding reference numbers first, unhurried and unwilling to return to her desk too quickly. The code she was looking for was listed on an already open stack at the very back of the room; Here, the library was half bathed in shadow, and the sounds of rustling and typing were muffled by the shelves upon shelves of reference books lining the walls. A little put out that she'd managed to find it so soon, she made her way along the aisle until she spotted the range of numbers she was looking for. Crouching down, it took her a few moments of scanning along the bottom shelf, before she spotted the scruffy, laminated cover of Shakespeare and the four humours.
Bingo.
She pulled the book from the shelf, pivoted around on her toes and stood up again.
"Fuck..!"
She hadn't heard anyone enter the stacks behind her, and yet, leaning against the shelves in the shadows next to her, stood the tall figure of a man. Rearing back and startled, the book slipped from Darcie's fingers and she swore again, but before it could hit the floor, the figure reached forwards - quick as lightning - and snatched the book out of the air. As his face dipped towards the light, his profile became silhouetted against the books behind him, and with a jolt Darcie realised who it was.
Bash straightened and lent back against the shelves again, tucking the book under his arm. She couldn't see his expression in the dim light, but nevertheless she squirmed and reddened as he turned to face her fully. There was silence between them, and then:
"Er...You were up early this morning." he observed, in a casual voice that was a litle at odds with his dramatic, sudden appearance. "How are you?"
Darcie frowned up at him, taken aback. It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts before she was able to reply. "How am I?" she repeated stupidly, in a choked, incredulous hiss. "What... how...What are you doing in here?!"
Bash cleared his throat - almost self-conciously - and shifted his position against the shelves."You're still ignoring my texts. And I didn't think you'd appreciate me tagging along with you and Minerva this morning."
Darcie shut her eyes, willing her temper under control. It took a few moments of deep breathing before she was able to speak again. "I'm not ignoring your texts - I've blocked you" she replied plainly, gathering her wits in preparation to push past him. "You just had to follow me down here -while I'm busy working- and scare me half to death, didn't you?"
Bash shifted, leaning forwards slightly, and as the light above sliced over his mouth, she saw his lips quirk into a very small, knowing smile. He swallowed. "I don't want to get in the way of your studies. This won't take long..." he began, and Darcie scowled at the faint thread of joviality in his tone. "And...from the looks of things, you haven't started working yet?"
Fuck you...
Darcie snorted and, channeling anger into courage, stormed forwards and snatched her book out from under his arm. Her fingers brushed against leather, and as she stepped back again, she realised he was dressed in his motorbike gear. She frowned. "How did you even get in here?" she snapped back at him, choosing to ignore his question. "And dressed like that. You need a reader's card to get in - It's the Bodleian. You can't just walk in off the street."
He sighed. Leathers creaking slightly, Bash pushed himself away from the shelves and took a step forward. The dim electric light from above illumiated his face, and Darcie's heart quickened. He looked boldly into her face, and for a split second she found herself caught in the intensity of his grey gaze, but in another moment rationality returned to her, and she bristled again. Clutching her book protectively to her chest and blushing harder still, she started forwards to squeeze past him with scowling determination. Stoic as ever, he turned with her, and her bare arms brushed against his leathers in the process. Goosebumps erupted up the back of her neck at the touch, and her chest throbbed painfully.
Seconds later, she was on the other side of him. Hastily, and without sparing a backward glance, she made to hurry back down the aisle. She only managed a step or two away from him, before:
"I have a reader's card, as it happens. Actually, it's an alumni card. But you're right - Dressed like this...I had to take the...back entrance."
Darcie couldn't help herself. Pausing, she half-turned to shoot him a disbelieving look."You studied here? At Oxford?"
Bash glanced down at some spot on the floor and shrugged. "Quite a few years ago, now. This bit of the library..." he waved a hand, indicating the subterranean rolling stacks of the Gladstone link. "Wasn't open to readers then."
Darcie's blanched, recalling some dim knowledge that the link had opened to students almost ten years previously. "Just how old are you?" she asked rudely. "I mean really."
Bash folded his arms and surveyed her, his face unreadable. "I thought we agreed I was 28?" he asked at length, taking a step towards her, the corner of his mouth twitching into an almost-smile.
Darcie braced herself to deliver a scornful retort, but as he came forwards, the light directly above them glinted off something on his chest she hadn't noticed before. It flashed again beneath the lapels of his leather jacket, and - blinking confusedly at the flickering silver - she peered at the spot through the gloom. Observing this, Bash halted and followed her gaze, to the two lozenges of metal which hung from a long, fine chain about his neck. He glanced up at her again and then caught up the tags in his fist, holding them out to her so that she might see them better. His hand stretched to just in front of her face, and Darcie flinched at their sudden proximity; Looking hastily away, she took a step back.
Bash blinked at her for a few seconds before he withdrew his hand and began to tuck the chain out of sight beneath the collar of his shirt. "They're identification tags," he explained, and Darcie felt her stomach plummet for some inexplicable reason. "My pack...We all wear them. You know, in case we ever get...um...taken out."
Darcie was now determinately examining the dog eared corner of Shakespeare and the four Humours, so felt, rather than saw, him reach out again to gesture over her shoulder. She had been unconscious of just how loudly they'd been talking until he continued in a whisper: "But I think that's a story for another time..."
She looked up at him and he jerked his chin meaningfully, again indicating a point just behind her. Stiffening, Darcie turned her face to scan the empty aisle behind them and the deserted opening to the library beyond. She had little time to wonder at what Bash meant, before, not a split second later, a very harassed-looking librarian appeared around the edge of the stacks and made his way towards them. A boney man with stooping shoulders- he peered angrily into the aisle towards Darice, his brow furrowed and his mouth half-open in anticipation of the reprimand he planned to deliver. Darcie blanched, groaning internally, and braced herself to deliver a groveling - whispered- apology for the noise; With a dull flash a panic, it occurred to her that he might throw them out regardless.
Well at least then I have a valid excuse to go home and do nothing...
The librarian stopped just inside the aisle and blinked furiously at Darcie for a second or two, before he rose onto tip-toe to glare searchingly into the gloom behind her. She cringed, waiting for the reprove to come, but the little man only blinked in bemusement, his mouth twisting soundlessly with confused anger, before he contented himself with giving Darcie a warning look and stalking off again.
For a few seconds, Darcie stared in disbelief at the place where he'd disappeared, before she turned around to face Bash again, frowning. She fully intended on telling him - in no uncertain terms - to fuck off, before someone really did kick them out, but the aisle beyond appeared completely deserted. Bewildered, she squinted into the shadows towards the solid wall at the end of the shelves; It was impossible for him to have exited the aisle without passing her, and yet she was - inexplicably- alone.
After a few moments of gaping confusedly at the spot where he had stood, she allowed irritation to dispose of her surprise and she gave herself a mental shake. Muttering angrily under her breath, she forced her reluctant brain back onto the task at hand and consulted her book list again. It took her several attempts to read the titles before she actually took anything in.
With another sigh, she exited the stack and entered another, a few aisles down. To her great annoyance, Bash was already in there, leaning nonchalantly against the back wall and examining a scuff on the elbow of his bike jacket. Darcie felt her stomach lurch with shock again at the sight of him, but she managed well enough to keep the surprise from her face. Steeling herself, she made her way down the length of the aisle before stopping just in front of him; He was so tall she had to tilt her head a little to glare into his face. "Is there a particular reason you're here, stalking me?" she demanded in a hoarse whisper, nostrils flaring in anger. "You almost just got me thrown out."
Bash looked down at her with an expression of faint amusement, before looking away after a second or two, a very slight smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "Are you ok for your... tinned spaghetti?" he asked, his tone mild as he scanned the books on the topmost shelf beside them. "I know you only went shopping the other day...but I wouldn't want you going hungry. If you need us to go shopping for you, just say the word..."
He trailed off and stuck his tongue in his cheek, his lips twisting as he glanced down at her again. Darcie felt herself flush and she gaped at him in angry disbelief. "Is that really why you're here?" she hissed, bristling. "I'm actually trying to work, you know!"
Bash sighed resignedly, his smile fading. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment or two before he folded his arms and ducked his head to meet her gaze." No, actually..." he began, in a lightly casual voice that had Darcie's eyes narrowing in distrust. "I'm here because...Tito tells me... that there's some sort of party happening tonight..?"
Darcie shot him a withering look. "Oh for fucks sake." she hissed, rolling her eyes and returning her attention to her book list. "I haven't got time for this."
She strode away from him, scanning the numbers on the shelves until she came to the code she was looking for. To her deep displeasure, Bash tailed her at a leisurely pace, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you going?" he asked, in that same tone of faux indifference that made Darcie's hackles rise.
"None of your business."
"Tito said you were?"
"Do you believe everything Tito says?"
Spotting the book she needed, Darcie pulled it off the shelf and hugged it to her chest atop Shakespeare and the Four Humours. Turning on her heel, she made to walk away from him, but Bash put out a hand to stop her. "You know it's not safe for you to go clubbing or anything, Darcie," he told her, his facade slipping slightly to reveal a thread of concern in his tone. "We discussed this..?!"
Darcie could feel the beginnings of full, unbridled rage beginning to burn the back of her throat. She turned slowly to face him again, her cheeks white with anger, and glowered up into his face, hating him.
Who are you to tell me what to do?
"I thought you said you weren't swapping with Audrey until next week?" she snarled, throwing as much venom into her words as she could.
Catching the loathing in her voice, Bash stiffened and narrowed his eyes. He gestured to his bike leathers. "I did...I'm headed back to London for the weekend this morning. Then I'll be back here on Monday..."
She shook her head, cutting him off. "So why are you here now? Why not one of the others? Tito's an arse but I'd far prefer him than you. "
She'd meant the statement to sound cold and haughty, but it came out petulant and childish. She cringed and Bash quirked a knowing brow at her, his face relaxing back into one of marble-like stoicism. "Tito's only just gone to bed. He had the night shift."
"And Audrey?"
"Audrey will be along soon...but she's got a lot on at the moment. I thought I'd give her a lie in. Besides...I wanted to talk to you about this myself."
Darcie could feel her face reddening, feel the indignace and rage engulf her. She clenched her teeth and pressed the books so tight against her breast that it almost hurt. She forced herself to hold his gaze as Bash folded his arms and studied her furious face with an unfathomable expression.
Darcie willed her eyes to burn him with her resentment. "I hate that you've just popped up out of nowhere and now think you can tell me what I can and can't do!" she threw at him with bitter anguish. "It's...it's so toxic. I hate it."
Bash's face was like marble. "I'm not telling you what to do... I'm...I'm asking you..."
"And if I don't do what you ask?"
Bash sighed again. "Well..." he began, glancing over her head, as if in deep thought. "I... suppose if you really want to go tonight, we can arrange for increased security for you. I'll call out some more pack members, and I'll stick around today and accompany you. But it'd still be very risky."
He looked back at her again, his face now - most irritatingly - displaying something between sympathy and contrition, and Darcie glowered. It was evidently meant to be a genuine offer of compromise, but she took it for the threat that it was besides.
'Fine! I'm not going! I'm not!' She threw at him in an enraged hiss, her eyes popping slightly with repressed hysteria. 'If not going means you'll leave me alone - fine! I'll stay at home and you can piss right off to London.'
There was an awkward, strained pause. Bash looked thoroughly unconvinced. 'Do I have your word?'
It took every ounce of Darcie's control not to scream at him. Instead, she threw him a very dirty look. 'You don't have to worry. I'd far rather sit in my room and enjoy my privacy, than go out and be followed around constantly by you and a bunch of... freaks.'
She regretted - almost at once - the slur, for Bash's eyes flashed suddenly violet in the gloom. Darcie's stomach lurched with fear as he took another step towards her, his face incruitable, but his voice was even when he next spoke.
'Ok, well...Then, Tito will be on duty this evening..." He seemed convinced at least.
"On duty..!?"
"...and he'll let me know if your plans change."
Bash's tone was lightly casual, but the note of warning beneath his words was unmistakable. Darcie glowered. "They won't." she snapped, raising her chin in a gesture of defiance. "Honestly. I'd rather miss out than have to go out with... you."
They stared at each other. Darcie's chest gave a dull, painful throb, and she rubbed it impatiently.
Bash quirked a brow. 'Fine.' he replied eventually, giving her a very curt nod, his eyes gray once more. 'Good. I'll leave you to your work and see you Monday, then.'
He gestured towards the end of the alise, inviting her to exit first, and Darcie snorted derisively in response. 'Stop... popping up out of nowhere' She snapped, turning on her heel and storming away from him. "It's creepy."
She didn't hear him follow, but a split second later she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. 'Stop ignoring my texts and I won't have to.' he countered in a murmur next to her ear, and Darcie jumped about a foot in the air with fright.
Just managing to cling onto the books in her arms, she whipped around, fuming, her mouth already open to deliver a scathing retort, but the aisle behind her was - once again - empty.