Title: Small Crime
Theme(s): #18 Photograph (~lost you forever)
Pairing/Characters: Wyatt and Bianca
Disclaimer: Belongs to Spelling Entertainment and all other associated people. I do however claim half of Bianca since they never fully developed her.
Word Count: 1,759
Written For: 30_angsts
There was a time he would hold her like a lover, sweaty hands molded into clasped tenderness, body’s entwined underneath the glow of a radiant moonlight that guided the cool night to the brilliance of a new dawn – a pale wash of white stained with hues of yellow, pink and blue like a watercolour painting mixing to create an image of beauty.
There was a time such bliss was shattered by darkness, by tears and hatred, by voices of despair that tore through the quiet. There was a time when death appeared the better option.
There was a time when hearts broke.
There was a time when he said “I don’t love you.”
Perhaps he should have added “anymore”, perhaps he should have added “right now”. Perhaps he should never have said it at all. For how was she to forgive someone who disregarded her heart just as flesh once disregarded the space between them?
In truth she forgave him more times than she needed to. She couldn’t retain the hate she knew she should feel for his actions, not when her heart loved him more than the earth itself. Yet he made her move on. No matter how many times she told herself it was over, she still hoped that this temperament was an impermanent phase he was going through. She hoped that one day that delicate look on his face would return when he looked at her. She wanted to feel as high and comforted as she’d once been, not a crushed morsel looking at each passing day as her last.
Time passed, and with each daily reminder the hurt slowly dimmed. There was only so far she could fall before rising again, like a Phoenix born from the ashes she would begin anew.
“Singe, which way?” a young man called out from his crouched position in the alley.
Bianca’s eyes scoured the narrow walkway. “You take the stairs, I’ll distract him.”
“Make sure you’re up in five,” Kael replied, nodding in agreement.
It was as easy as throwing a rock for Bianca to get past the guard. She shimmered to the opposite direction of where he was headed and paused by the apartment doorway. Across the road stood a familiar car parked by the curb. Scrutinizing it momentarily she ducked into the hallway. It took her less than a few minutes to reach the fourth floor landing. Kael was already inside, the door wide open for Bianca to enter.
“You shouldn’t let everyone see inside,” Bianca warned, closing the door behind her. “They’ll identify us.”
“Then I’ll just do this,” Kael said with a shrug and momentarily disappeared. Bianca looked anxiously towards the door, her eyes tracing back to the spot where Kael reappeared. “Feeling like a rookie?”
“No. I just don’t understand what we’re doing here.”
“Are we ever meant to understand?” Kael returned. “It’s a mission. Isn’t their phrase ‘Just do it’?”
“That’s a Nike slogan.”
“Phoenix selling Nikes! I’d like to see that,” Kael joked.
Bianca moved over to the bookcase, her eyes scouring the authors as she walked along – Gregory Maguire, John Irving, Yann Martel, Shakespeare. She stopped, tentatively placing a finger on the yellowed spine of a well-worn edition of Hamlet. She pulled it back slightly, enough to tilt it so that she could see the dust settled on the pages. She dropped it back into place, her finger tracing down the outer edge.
“You want to take his books?” Kael asked.
“I never take his books,” Bianca said musingly.
“Huh?” she asked, breaking from her reverie.
Bianca forced herself to smile pleasantly. “It used to be on my shelf.”
Kael peered at the titles behind her. “Shakespeare? You’re one awesomely intelligent girl, Singe.”
“I really like hanging out with you,” Kael said. Bianca looked into his eyes and saw he was being honest. Her smile became more genuine.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
Kael turned back towards the doorway and stopped. Placing a finger to his lips he held his hand out to Bianca and wiggled his fingers.
“I need your dagger.”
Bianca glanced out the window as she passed by and saw that familiar looking vehicle pulling out onto the road. Now she remembered why she recognized it. As she handed over her weapon to Kael she realized exactly who it belonged to. The one she had tried to forget about but could never stop caring about.
He’d gone to pick up some urgent supplies. He wasn’t normally in that part of town, especially not so late, but the club was thumping and demand was high. He had no choice but to accumulate beverages on his own time. And across the road in the darkening night he saw the air waver from the corner of his eye. Paying the attendant he glanced across the road and saw her. They may have talked once or twice, but he had not set eyes on her in quite some time. She was everything he remembered her to be, and as the man behind the register called for his attention to hand him change, she was gone within the blink of an eye.
He wondered if maybe his mind had been hallucinating the vision but he found no reason to be thinking of Bianca at such an odd moment in time. However as he packed the box into the boot of his car and looked up to close the door, he caught sight of her in the window with another man. He was slightly alarmed to see her with somebody else, after all the time she spent alone. After all the time she spent with him. He wondered if she still missed him, if she noticed the absence of those little things. Like her smile. He saw it on her face now as she turned towards the man who was so intimately close to her. He had not seen such a pleasant look on her face for months, even years.
His eyes remained fastened on the lit window as he circled around the car, opening the driver’s side door and climbing in as his gaze lowered with defeat. Sitting behind the steering wheel he placed his hands on the frame, staring into the empty black of night. What about me? the only thought racing through his mind. He had gotten on with his life, yet expected her to stay just the same, like a portrait hanging on the wall – never to change. As he started the engine and pulled out onto the road he lifted his gaze to the window once more, saw the man take her hand as they entered another room. The angle was bad and he couldn’t see clearly, but he was sure that’s what they were doing.
“You took long enough,” Lisa jibed as he re-entered P3. “What were you doing? Traveling to Holland for the beer?”
“Might have been quicker,” Wyatt returned. “And cheaper.”
Lisa smiled, her hands reaching out to cover his. “C’mon, the customers and getting antsy out there. Let me help.”
“You can serve.”
“Steve can serve. You take on three bucks parties in one night and any sane woman would rather be around the good-looking boss than a bunch of drunken losers.”
Wyatt looked at her curiously, allowing her to take the box from his hands and place it on the shelf. Reaching down lower she began to remove more bottles from the box on the bottom shelf. Wyatt’s attention sunk internally as he thought over what she’d just said, his eyes fastening on her shapely ass as she peered around her legs to look at him.
“Customers first, servicing second,” she said, straightening with a glint of flirtatiousness in her eyes and the way her body rolled back up to watch him over her shoulder.
The back room was always a secluded place to remove yourself from the thumping bass and hollering of the noisy club. It pounded against the walls but barely perforated it as if they were built to be soundproof. And it was just the location Lisa and Wyatt found themselves in once again as they stole a moment away from the crowd.
Eager hands tore at clothes, mouths demanding to be pressed to flesh. Wyatt paused in the doorway and glanced back to the club, uncertain about leaving behind his responsibilities, but Lisa had hold of his shirt and pulled him through the door, turning them both as she closed it behind her and bore her weight against the hardwood. The tremble of far away music reverberated in their bodies adding to the adrenaline running like wildfire through their veins. She pushed him back and this time he turned her, his hand sweeping aside the paperwork that littered the desk. His hand connected with the phone, the push causing the phone cord to yank violently against a pile of boxes. The lightest and emptiest of the few toppled to the floor spilling its contents along the ground. Wyatt glanced up from Lisa’s body half lain across the desk and saw the etchings on the wall. Right there, next to the steel frame of one of the shelves and too low for anyone to take notice unless they were looking, was the carving he had done for Bianca, the message that had promised they would be together forever. And now he’d lost her, pushed her away. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself, his eyes deceiving him as he left Lisa to go crouch by the mark, running his fingers over the distorted surface.
“Wyatt, c’mon, we’ve only got an hour if we’re lucky,” Lisa complained. “We didn’t come in here to survey the place for insurance purposes.”
Wyatt moved his attention to the scattered paperwork on the ground, pretending that was what had concerned him. He took a number of sheets into his hand and put them back on top of the boxes. With another glance, he lifted up the box and placed it back into position. Somehow just seeing that etching made him feel as if he were cheating on her. He didn’t want to feel guilty. He didn’t think he deserved to feel guilty. He felt Lisa’s arms embrace his neck and he glanced up to her, letting out an angered breath. She could in no way compare to the girl he once loved, but she was enough to keep him satisfied. Rising, he slipped his hands around to stand firm against her waist and led her back towards the couch.