Blood On Snow - A Fargo Fanfiction

Chapter 12

A week had passed. Seven agonising, paranoia filled days for Rye (Dipshit, aye) Gerhardt. He was growing ever distant in an attempt at saving himself, but it seemed to make matters worse.

"Come on, Mike," Rye more or less pleaded, "You're killing me here!"

Mike watched the Gerhardt once again freaking out to him, a smirk on his face.

"You seem to be doing a fine job of that without me." Mike watched Rye's expression shift. "I said I'd get it done-"

"You said you'd get it done two weeks ago! But as I look over, I can't help but notice she's still here!" Rye gestured behind him.

In the distance Pancake was moving some logs that needed to be cut from a truck to the chopping block. Dodd had his back to the men, talking to the woman as she worked, only receiving slight gestures, easy to understand body language or occasionally notes in return. He was noticeably concerned or troubled about something, his stance that of someone seeking an answer.

The past week had seen Pancake well enough to walk and sign with no major pain or discomfort. The only thing that made her recoil was sudden, sharp movements.

"You're the one that told us about the location, not who was going to show up." Mike retaliated.

Rye was caught.

"... but you- you made it seem like there was going to be enough people-!"

"For four, maybe five people. Not eight or nine."

"A deal is a deal, is it not?"

"You want this?" Rye scrambled into his pocket and removed a neatly wrapped, black square parcel. "I've been taking these from Pensador for two weeks, Mike. If she finds out she'll literally kill  me! Why should I have to deliver on my end of the deal if you don't?"

The Kitchen brothers suddenly walked to stand either side of Mike, intense gazes focused right on Rye. He suddenly shifted on the spot.

"Are you backing out of the deal? Or maybe you're trying to be the bigger man. In which case, surprise: you're not."

Rye gulped, determined to stand his ground.

"Not until you deliver on your end." And with that, Rye stuffed the parcel back into his coat pocket, spun on his heels and began to walk to the house.

The Kitchen brothers reached for their weapons, to which Mike stopped them.

"I've got a better idea."

~
Pancake glanced up to see Numbers and Pensador talking, walking up to the house. The woman placed the three logs in her arms by the chopping block and then walked over to meet the two.

'Where have you two fuck buddies be-' Pancake was cut off as she slipped on a patch of ice. There was no chance in hell that she was going to catch herself. It was cartoon-like as she fell, landing straight on her back and sliding a few feet down the field.

Pensador attempted to stifle a laugh, really she did, but Pancake rarely made a fool of herself and it was a rare oppprtunity.

"Karma." Pensador stated, mainly to herself, as she cautiously approached the other. She leaned over to check on her side and then rejoined Numbers. "She's fine."

The past week Numbers and Pensador had been close. Wrench was... undecided about his opinion. In fact Wrench had grown eerily quiet as of late.

"No, I think it suits you." Numbers stated, gpancing back to the deaf woman as she slowly stood. "Besides, who doesn't like red?"

"I can name a few."

The two entered the house as they spoke and turned into the kitchen, pausing to find nobody but a random maid.

Dodd's car was parked outside, Pancake was working which meant they weren't doing anything (much to the delight of Pensador) and his family was off doing God knows what. God knows where he could be.

Numbers removed an envelope from his pocket and placed it on to one of the kitchen counters.

"So, my proposal." Numbers brought up, brow arching. (NOT THAT  PROPOSAL, GOLLY GOSH)

"I don't know-"

"It'll be like another contract."

"In a masquerade party?"

"I need someone to go with so they can distract some guys."

"'Some guys'?"

"Okay, maybe you're not up to-"

"I never said that."

Numbers had her in his expectant gaze.

"Okay. Under one condition."

"What?"

"You don't ask me to help you two days in advance again."

~
'I don't know,' Pancake paused mid sign, shrugging, 'It's odd.'

Pensador picked up her glass, which was filled with alcohol, and took a big sip before shrugging.

'What's odd? It sounds like you're going through what everyone goes through.'

Pancake sent Pensador a deadpan expression before pausing, eyes suddenly alight with a breakthrough.

'You don't think it's because I like someone else, do you?'

'I don't see why not. I mean you and Dodd? Never saw it lasting anyway. Are you even a thing?'

Pancake's brows knitted together.

'Are you and Numbers 'even a thing?''

A retaliation that caused Pensador to suddenly grow bitter, gaze fixed on Pancake in a 'I dare you to say something else'.

'Oh, right, you're rather touchy, aren't you?'

Pensador tensed. Now was not the time to be pissing her off. Her patience was so goddamn thin.

'Oh no, did I just make you remember the slim chance of you staying together after this?'

That was it.

Pensador picked up her glass and threw it at Pancake, who quickly ducked, eyes on the spot the glass shattered as she quickly stood. The glass was aimed straight at her head.

The brunette turned to look to Pensador who more or less proceeded to pounce over the table and grab the collar of her jacket, sending the two toppling over.

Pensador threw a punch, which landed. And another. Pancake quickly shifted so her boot rested against her friend's stomach before she pushed, sending the other up and over so she could stand and roll her shoulders.

Pancake immediately lunged back into the fight. They disappeared behind the table. Nothing but grunting and scraping before, abruptly, Pensador was sent over the table. Pancake slowly hoisted herself up, using the table as leveridge.

The fight was long from over.

Oh boy. Whoever has to clean this up afterwards is in for a treat.