genesis

Firstly I want to apologize to all me writing partners for going AWOL over the last couple of months. Circumstances have changed in my life recently, I’ve taken on more hours at work and I now find I have less personal time, and motivation during my spare time, to get online to do replies. 

So for now I’m going to go on an indefinite hiatus. I don’t know when, or even if I’ll get back to writing. I want to thank everyone for taking the time to plot and write with me - I love all our plots, and characters and they’ll always have a place in my heart. 

Please know that if I ever do come back, I’d love to pick them all back up but I don’t want to leave you waiting on replies from me that may never come. I wish you all the best with everything, and always remember that you’re all so talented. You’re amazing writers and people - so keep doing what you’re doing. 

Nate had never believed in anything like fate or destiny, everything that happened in life was because of choices or random luck, but at the moment he did have a feeling that someone or something was laughing at what was going on between him and Trix. And he cursed whatever or whoever it was. 

It was also hard to ignore the tension that had settled between them in the car and didn’t feel like going away. “Right, right…,” he said with a nod. Maybe one day they would laugh about what had happened tonight but that was definitely going to be a long time away. It was a shame that she wanted to keep her distance from him though, considering that she was definitely the most interesting person here. “I’m going to the kitchen. I need a drink.” A strong one. 

There was a large part of her that wanted to stop him from leaving, but she stopped herself. She refrained from reaching out and catching his wrist as he moved to pass her. God, a drink definitely sounded good right now; or several. She waited a couple of seconds before eventually following him back out to the main room. 

Several hours later, and Trix was merrily drunk. Her head felt a little fuzzy and her body felt heavy, but those were all good signs in her books. She’d been mingling with the other guests at the party and avoiding Nate at all costs - though her eyes often wandered, looking for him in the crowded room, lingering maybe a little too long, and snapping away if he happened to look up or in her direction. Staggering out into the kitchen, she was happy to find it empty. She opened the fridge and tipped back her head, letting the cool hair act like air conditioning to cool her down. A noise behind her, made her jump and she knocked a bottle of wine out the door of the fridge. ( “Fuck. Shit - dammit.” ) She swore, looking over her shoulder at whoever had made her jump. ( “Fucking hell, Nate. Were you trying to give me a heart attack or something?” )

Cady was right. There was a time and a place, situations for things like this to happen. If there were any outsiders looking in, they would call it cabin fever. But they had to understand that Nathan had never felt this way about anyone before. Never had he encountered someone who made his heart race that painfully in his chest, or fill him with that kind of longing. Because once upon a time, he used to be a different man, a dangerous man.

But now, all Nathan wanted was for Cady to look at him like she looked anything. Like her eyes widened at the flowers on their dining table. How she smiled at the kindest gestures. He wanted those things from her, for him. If Nathan was a product of his nurturing, he wanted that to change. And she was bringing it out from him. But if she was still afraid of him, he needed to show her that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her feel safe.

“I was…ten, when my Ma passed on. I was her only kid. First born to the O’Cuinn name, and we’re men of tradition. I was ten when my old man told me I wasn’t supposed to cry at her funeral, while he handed me a gun.” His hand never left hers, pinned to his chest, holding her in place. “I grew up not knowing the difference between good and bad. You did the things you did for the family name. Whatever you do, just remember it’s the whole family. I’ve got brothers…and some sisters. But it wasn’t the same. Pa, he wanted me to be ruthless. Groomed me to take up the family business someday.” It was painful narrating his life story to Cady, looking at her while he told her this. Because it reminded him of family, of being safe. Which was an odd feeling for a gangster, because where was the safety in their line of work? Just because you slept with a gun in your hand, didn’t mean you were safe. Ever.

“I believed him blindly, ya know? I closed my eyes and did as I was told because that was what I was meant to do. Follow the family legacy, go down as one of them. I could tell you stories that would make you fear me. I have never been a ‘good’ man, but what are those, anyway?” His lips pursed into a straight line. “But I didn’t join the family, as you can see. I’m here, and…I know that we’re not supposed to do this. Chances are, we’re either gonna be killed before the hearing, or we’ll never see each other again.” At this point, Nathan let go of her hand, putting some distance between them. “So who’s going to stop us?”

There was a question circling round in Cady’s head, she tried knocking it away but it always swung back round. The question of what made a person who they were, nature or nurture. Was one born bad, or was it a consequence of their surrounding. Was it in their blood, or in the mind. Cady hoped that the answer was nurture - because there was always hope if it was nurture. One could be nurtured to be good, but if it was nature - then there was no saving a bad soul. 

She kept her eyes on him whilst he starting telling her his story. The true story about who he really was - who he’d been. It was an insight into the way he’d been raised, and once again Cady couldn’t help but think that all his bad choice were a result of nurture. Has her father placed a gun in her hand at ten years old, maybe she’d have grown up with blood on her hands too - but that also didn’t change the fact that he’d made the choice to pull the trigger. He may have chosen to go against his family now, but was it too late? 

He held her hand against his chest, but she didn’t feel trapped. She knew deep down that if she had tried to pull away he would have let her go - she didn’t fear that. But she also didn’t move. She listened, letting the tears well up in her eyes. She chocked a little as he mentioned their potentially likely deaths, taking a deep breath as he let her go and stepped back. ( “My father works in a factory, my mother was a maid till arthritis made it impossible for her to hold a mop. It was only ever us, the three of us - I’ve never had to share, and I’ve never had to look out for anyone. I’ve never had the responsibility of a family on my shoulders and my parents always encouraged me to be whatever I wanted to be.” ) She wasn’t sure where she was going with her story, other than making it even more clear just how opposite they were. 

( “You may have believed him blindly, but you’ve opened your eyes. You’re stuck here with me because you made a choice - you made a choice to be a good man, and I do believe those exist. Deep down I know if you’d of had another choice, you wouldn’t have taken the gun...” ) She stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created between them, taking his hands in hers again and holding them against her chest. ( “You don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to be...” ) She offered him, quoting words her mother had always said to her as a young girl, before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him; gentle and slow, a kiss of love not passion. 

!! —— .*. ‘ AND WHOSE FAULT is it that i don’t know him? you raised him weak. how could you not? that’s the only thing that you know how to be.       ’      near obsidian eyes seemed to darken further the more she went on. it made him sick to hear her act as if they’d always been in compliance, as if they were operating on the same wavelength. he’d been honest. he’d given her a part of him that he’d given no one before and she’d abused that small bout of weakness. going as far as to claim the dark lord, his dark lord, as her own as well was his final straw.     ‘     don’t speak of him when you’re here brushing shoulders with mudbloods left and right. you should have moved to the muggle world and fucked yourself a magicless waste of space so you’d REALLY fit in. really make your cover that much more believable. i gave my life to him. what have you done? throw a quaffle around and act as if hiding behind a guise is somehow supporting the right way of life? you’re a coward. i pity the boy for being raised by such a spineless bitch.      ’ 

( “Who’s fault is it? Certainly not mine - even if I had told you about him, you were locked up Antonin. You were never going to know him. So if you want to blame anyone for not knowing your son, blame yourself... or better yet, blame your master.” ) She almost regretted saying the words as soon as they had left her mouth, but there was no taking them back and honestly if anyone was to blame it was the Dark Lord for sending Antonin out on a mission that was only ever going to end in failure. ( “I’d rather brush shoulders with mudbloods and blood traitors every day than risk my life, or my freedom. I’ve been biding my time, getting myself in - getting them to trust me. I have friends in high places now, Antonin. I could get a meeting with the Minister of Magic right now if I wanted. Do you not think that benefits the Lord? You might not like the way I went about it, and sure it may have come from a selfish place, but I am no coward. And I won’t allow you to speak to me like that.... not anymore. I need you to leave. Right now.” ) The last thing she wanted was to kick him out, the last thing she wanted was to watch him leave. She wanted him to hold her, wanted him to stay with her forever, but she couldn’t let him think her weak - she wouldn’t let him think her weak.