Vintage Roses

Chapter 3: I Spend Some Time Reflecting Upon Life And Playing Dress-Up

Now the roles are reversed and I'm the one wishing Ashe luck, with a strangled lump in my throat. P.T., Terran and Zeke look minuscule next to B.O.B, as does our other omnic recruit, Bars. The Deadlock Gang's co-founding member, Uma Carlyle, is long dead, but even she would have crawled out of her sarcophagus of empty liquor bottles for this occasion. I think losing her was the last straw for Ashe, the real reason why she got all the gangs to agree to a cease-fire and general set of rules. Then all of a sudden Ashe is in front of me, a grimly satisfied smile on her lips, and before I can say a word she hugs me tightly. When she pulls away, I feel too dazed to move, and she musses my hair. "When we come back, come see me in my office, 'kay hon?" she says, a gentleness in her voice that I can't quite place but that melts me.

I'm in charge of Headquarters today, while they pick up the loot, and I'm glad it'll be mostly empty. I may be a logical, cold-blooded criminal, but I really need to catch up on my sleep and reel in my errant thoughts. Ashe, Ashe, Ashe... In my room, I strip my outer layers and roll onto my bed, my brain feeling like scrambled eggs, a confused mess involving crimson eyes, ruby lips and warm skin. Thank goodness the only other people here are Miguel and Gracie Porter, his girlfriend and our live-in cook. It's funny that Miguel, who is surly, handsome, and built like a tank, should have fallen for the optimistic dumpling with crooked teeth that Gracie is. All the same, if they make each other happy, who am I to judge? Especially since I can't get Ashe off my mind...

I take a short nap and wake up feeling refreshed. After dressing rapidly, I wash my face and try to apply some make-up. I used to be quite the peacock when I was a teenager, but I haven't felt the need to look pretty in a long time, and my hand trembles slightly as I hesitate between different products on my dressing-table. In the end, I decide to follow my old routine ("natural") and hope for the best. It doesn't look half bad, if I do say so myself. After a long hunt in my wardrobe and careful deliberation, I also change my outfit. It's been a while since I wore my old clothes, but Ashe said she likes seeing me in them. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I wonder if this is what I would have looked like every day if the bookshop had never burnt down. If I'd never been given a chance to explore a different way of life, would I have been content with a sleepy, peaceful existence? Or would I have been restless and unhappy, wishing for something more? Maybe I should be happy that I'll never know.

Gracie taps my door, calling my name. I would have recognized her even if I didn't know her lilting voice, because she has this quaint habit of knocking by rapping her knuckles twice, rapidly, before flicking her hand so that the nails make the final "tap". "I've made a fresh batch of cookies," she tells me. "They're supposed to be for when Ashe and everyone else returns, but if you'd want some, go help yourself. We know how hard you and Ashe worked for this score." I reach the door at last, but I can already hear her footsteps receding. A huge grin on my face, I lean against the doorframe, tracing a curve in the panelling with my fingertip. "Thanks, Gracie." I whisper, wishing she could hear me. Then my smile dies as my eyes fall on my clock; something is very, very wrong. For the first time since I've met Ashe, she is late.

Wrenching the door open, I run to the best observation point of Headquarters and glue my eyes to the horizon, panic sinking deep claws into my heart when I realize that it's empty.

A/N: Yes, my Christmas present to all ye faithful readers is... A cliffhanger! Kudos to me! (*whimpers* plz don't kill me)

Anyway, there's a clue in this chapter as to when this story is taking place and why Ashe is late.