Below The Surface - A Lackadaisy Fanfiction

Tear Me To Pieces, Skin To Bone

"Mordecai, you better explain to me what in the devil happened to you runnin' out!" Mr. Sweet yelled, slamming a hand down on his desk. Mordecai scoffed, shaking his head.

"It was an urgent matter," He answered, "it wouldn't have been wise to ignore it.

"I told you to relax. Even then, you can't seem to do it!" Mr. Sweet exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"It was an act of protection, someone had to go after them." Mordecai quipped.

"Son, I was worried sick about you, why the hell—"

"—I have already answered what you have yet to ask: I had to rush in to protect them."

"You aren't feeling good."

"I'm definitely feeling better, as of late."

Mr. Sweet hissed a sigh out from his teeth, shaking his head. "That's not the damn point. You went out—"

"—I am not some child in need of secondary remarks." Mordecai held his hand up.

"You better explain the entirety of that rum–running mission." Mr. Sweet demanded. Normally, Mordecai would have done this begrudgingly. However, when he explained every little detail, Mr. Sweet's anger was replaced by surprise and concern.

"...she..." He shook his head again, now mentioning Lacrimosa, "she killed Atlas?"

"He did." Mordecai took in a deep breath, calming himself.

"She downright admitted it?"

"Clear as day."

"She did."

"Oh lord..."

"Call Mitzi. Immediately." Those words felt alien on Mordecai's tongue. When he ordered Mr. Sweet of all people to do that.

The tuxedo cat had promptly told the rest of the group to return to their rooms: he would handle this accordingly. He watched Mr. Sweet's openly concerned gaze as he picked up the phone and spun the dial numbers. He put the phone to his ear.

"...Asa, what're you doin' up this late callin' me?" Mitzi yawned over the phone. So she was right: it was incredibly late. Almost one in the morning...they had been out all day, and for most of the night...how did these fights drag on for so long? Mr. Sweet didn't have a clue.

"Mordecai wants to talk to ya." He lowered his voice, giving Mordecai a quick once over.

"...oh?" Mitzi's voice softened: she had set down a martini glass beside her. She twirled with the phone wiring. "Uh, alright."

Mordecai had taken the phone from Mr. Sweet. "Mitzi, there has been a new problem established here." He informed slowly, eyes dulling slightly. He fiddled with his knife, the anxiety buzzing through him.

"Goin' off your voice, I think that it's serious," Mitzi replied while sipping on her drink, "are you okay, honey?"

Mordecai bit his bottom lip. He made sure nobody but Mitzi heard him. "...I know who killed Atlas." His voice was uncharacteristically shaky.

Mitzi let out a strangled gasp, dropping her drink with a loud, high pitched shattering noise that deafened her and Mordecai. "Who, honey? Who killed him?"

"...Lacrimosa, she..." Mordecai took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached into his jacket pocket, but his revolver wasn't there...Atlas' old gun: Mordecai used the Winchester Model 12 for today's latest mission, but the other gun was locked away in his room.

"She was the one who killed him? Mordecai, don't be pulling my leg now," Mitzi was almost in denial.

"Mitzi," Mordecai had urged her to believe him, "I do not bluff upon such damning topics, so please, just..." He wanted face plant straight into his desk and avoid any looks Mr. Sweet now gave him.

"Mordecai, sweetheart..." Mitzi felt her heart pulsating when she heard Mordecai's tones: had he been crying? Was he just choked up? Allergies? What was it?"

"I highly suggest you cut ties with Lacrimosa this instant. I do not want you to get hurt, either...I," Mordecai swallowed, "I am unsure of what damage will be done if I lost you, as well...because Atlas was already taken from us, and I don't want the same with you."

"...you definitely don't need to worry about me. After all, I know how to finish a fight." Mitzi chuckled dryly. She paused. "How are...the others?"

"Roark had rolled his ankle, Freckle was shot, Ivy barely made it out, and the Savoys are barely holding on." Mordecai deadpanned, shoving his hand into his pants pocket.

"...and how are you?" Mitzi whispered. Mordecai paused: that was the first time in a long time he heard her concerned tones.

"Quite alright: I'll manage." He reassured. He didn't want her to worry...the others were doing that already, and he didn't want to deal with adding her to the mix.

"Thank you," Mitzi began, "for continuing to figure out who killed him. It means more than you know."

"I cannot let a deed go undone: it's common." Mordecai remarked. "...take care now: that was all I needed to report."

"Get some sleep, honey...you need it." Mitzi bid him farewell, then hung up. Mordecai set down the phone shakily, running a hand through his hair. He slowly turned to face Mr. Sweet.

"I..." Mordecai began, but once his voice started choking up, he shut his mouth. He was taken aback by that bear hug: it was a simple routine now, but this time around, it was Mordecai being the one who hugged back the tightest. He squeezed his eyes shut again, burying his face in Mr. Sweet's shoulder, his claws digging into his back slightly.

"You don't need to explain your emotions right now...just take the time to calm down, alright? Because this is new behavior from ya." Mr. Sweet tried lightening the mood, but noticed Mordecai's ears pin on the back of his head. "...oh, son..."

"...I do not wish to discuss this." Mordecai yanked himself away, hiding his face: the wet stains on his cheeks, his slightly red–tinted cheeks, and how his shoulders were shaking. He shoved himself away.

"Mordecai," Mr. Sweet called, but the other didn't listen. "Mordecai!"

Mordecai shut the door behind him. Now there was just silence as Mr. Sweet stared at his office door, dumbfounded, concerned...slightly hurt. Not because of the storm out, but how much Mordecai was feeling at the moment. It was surreal in the worst way possible.

Now here was Mordecai: walking down the dim hall...noticing how dark it was. It was as if that revelation resulted in blinking back more tears. He scolded himself internally for crying this much, or even at all. He had made plans to retreat to his room, quickly. He kept his head down, hands in his pockets. His tail was flicking in anticipation. He ran his hands through his hair, taking in a sharp breath, making his chest and lungs hurt unintentionally.

...he didn't expect to feel Rocky's presence nearby. His head snapped up, and he stared at those blue eyes, beautiful, beaming...calming now. The chaotic tomcat had calmed down, into a kinder, more worried individual.

"...wanna talk about it, Ole Serious Face?" He whispered to him, extending his hand out. Mordecai watched with those glossed eyes, and took his hand. In a moment of weakness, he squeezed Rocky's hand. He absolutely needed to get this off his chest. He could now trust Rocky...or again, at least. It was apparent their love was mutual, requited. Mordecai finally told him, somewhat wobbly,

"...I would."

And Rocky led him to the roof.