The Flames of the Phoenix

5, Harvey

I exit the church, the carriage still there in front. "You feeling alright, mate?" the driver asks, looking concerned, "I could take you to where you need to go. Home, maybe?" I thank him, kindly denying his offer;  I continued on my way and walked in the direction of my apartment building.

As I was walking, Jack approached me, "You look sick. Did you see any blood?" 

"No, we just.." I said, trailing off. Lawry could be right about Phoenix being a woman, maybe even Jack! I didn't want to share.

She hums, sounding disappointed. "You know, they probably don't want you there anyway; must be glad you left," she remarked, "You just seem like a slacker, no offense."

"None taken," I whispered quietly, lying through my teeth. She had been saying things like this a lot more lately, ever since about last month; I found it quite hurtful. She doesn't mean harm, but it still stings when she says stuff like that. Like, an abnormal amount.

"Lawrence likes the others' help well enough," Jack continues, "Why doesn't he appreciate yours? Remember that case last month, with the Ligouri and Kendall kidnapping? You thought they were in Grant's basement, but Lawrence thought different, because you searched there already."

"But they were behind the shelf all along," I realized sadly, "You're right; they don't need my help."

I felt sick again. Jack kept on making rude sounding comments, kept on apologizing, but I believed them. I couldn't weasel in anything, as she stopped listening a while ago. I guess I was just being sensitive, like she's said. I got to my building, and we stopped in front of it. "Would you like to come in for tea? I just need to change into my nightclothes."

We went into my flat, and took off our shoes. She's probably right, I thought, They don't want me around. She said I'm a waste of their time. I went into my bedroom, dressed in my nightclothes and looked at my red-lined thighs.

I had been clean for about four months; Blackwell and O'Malley being almost twelve months ago, and I started for the first time when I was about 16; seven years ago. I could do it now, but Jack's here.

As if on cue, she knocked on the door. "Are you decent?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," I muttered. She opens the door and walks in. "I feel like you're the only one I can depend on," I said quietly to her as she sat down next to me. "They don't like me; I'm not taken seriously."

"I take you seriously," she said. "They don't need you; you're just fine with the two of us."

"Yeah, the two of us," I repeated quietly.  Somehow, I felt quite unsure about that, and even worse than before. Was she being honest, or was she like the rest of them? They don't care...

And I have a feeling that neither did she.