#cmissary

the bauers, as a rule, do not disagree. ( or, alexi and genevieve disagree enough for the rest to remain in peace, but even then they do it in private. ) the world is ending and they are busy. ( the world is always ending. )

today, the war room. today, code black. today, genevieve and alexi in complete agreement. half sentences, half words, nonsense to an onlooker. cathryn miclea was killed, is now clinging to life, may not come back. there wasn’t even a discussion, really, on what to do.

( it was worse when genevieve initially heard cat was dead. an immediate halt on all of her projects, ministers snubbed so she could go on a war path. there would be blood, lots of it. alexi called, roused from whatever valentine’s day festivities he had planned with the horrible monster perfectly respectable doctor who shares his bed he is dating exclusively and happily. )

the war room so rarely sees genevieve and alexi in agreement.

ginny greets her older brother without looking up. “we kill him.”

the good captain closes and locks the door behind him, taking off his coat but leaving his holster on while he responds with a deadpan, “obviously.”

the door is locked, but locked doors have never bothered francis before. the door is locked, but her brother knows she’s there before she knocks.

“you are both being idiots.” stupid, brash, marines and mercenaries. there is no place for this, not now. francis is not a contractor, not really, no skin in this game except for her siblings. she is aware of things like reputation and pride and honor, but as far as she’s concerned, it’s all abstract and, more importantly, dangerous.

there is a pause as her siblings look up from the table, both a mirror of the other with their hands braced on the wood. they don’t say a word, their attention rapt. it’s all the prompting francis needs. few words are ever wasted between bauers.

“you don’t need to kill him.” francis does not lie, but this is dangerously close to the realm of opinion for it to matter. her siblings tense as one, jaws clenching.

as always, genevieve provides the voice for the two. “yes, we do.” the smallest in the room straightens, assuming the posture she’d take on if she was arguing with a foreign minister. the bauers do not argue, and yet---

“you shouldn’t.” hardly eloquent, francis has the same steel to her that her siblings wear. call it genetics.

“yes, we should, and we’re going to.” “no, you’re not. i love cat just as much as both of you, but you are not going to kill sam.” “ignoring everything else, he’s dangerous and obviously still a threat to others. it’s not just about cat.” it is mostly about cat. “we leave plenty of dangerous people alive.” they are, after all, dangerous people themselves. their lovers are dangerous, their parents are dangerous, the men who work for genevieve are dangerous. it is all danger and violence. of course something like this happened. you can’t bring chaos and electricity together and expect placid goings.

alexi catches ginny’s eye in a shared glance. francis doesn’t like what she saw in that look. the eldest speaks up, finally. “we can’t let this go unanswered. if people find out that one of ours---”

“she wasn’t one of yours. she’s one of kasun’s. so is samuel.”

“son of a bitch,” ginny breathes, running her hand over her hair, pushing back from the table. genevieve bauer does not touch gangs unless they fall into terrorist territory, unless they kill the wrong people. hell, some of her best informants are members of other organizations that she’s cozy with in the enemy of my enemy way. ( it’s not lost on her that her name is ‘godmother’ in slavic languages, that she has her men and her territory, of sorts. that she is called upon to be a moderator to people who don’t want all out war. she is very good at stopping wars. ) an oversight. there’s so much--- there is so much knowledge out there. she didn’t anticipate having to deal with cat being involved with a gang. she made sure she was eating, but didn’t delve much more beyond that, didn’t need to, she saw the girl at least once a week.

genevieve has always been blind when it comes to those she loves, however. it’s a fault most bauers share.

alexi’s face darkens. if they’re kasun’s, then they’re technically nicht’s, which is a huge headache for everyone in the room. the good captain doesn’t move, waiting, as always, for genevieve to be his voice.

“<<then he’s as good as dead anyway.>>” bosnian from genevieve. a sign of the looming crisis.

francis looks to alexi, who avoids her eyes and runs his hand over his face. he looks to genevieve, who in turn ignores him. she knows, she knows, for fuck’s sake, lex, she knows.

“let me handle this.” a pause, frank’s voice ringing out in the vacuum of the room. “all of this.”

“i don’t---” ginny is scowling, but she stops midword at frank’s look.

“i have killed for you.” a plea, a reminder, a statement of fact. francis jean bauer never lies.

there is a prolonged silence. genevieve holding frank’s gaze, alexi looking at them both. francis has killed for her sister, followed her to the end of the world ( the world is always ending. ) and provided a little help from above. francis has blood on her hands for her sister, for love, for love.

“<<if there is any trouble--->>” ginny is ancient, tired and cold.

“i know.” stupid as she thinks it all is, frank knows the rules her family operates by, what is expected of them. she needs to find sam.

genevieve and alexi sigh in unison after francis leaves. there is a long look, another shared sigh, and genevieve beginning another fight before the dust settles.

          “you have to be fucking the boss.”                                                                                            “not now, gin.”           “the man’s more trouble than you know what to do with---”                                                                                            “what do you want?”            “you. safe.”                                                                                            “i can handle myself.”

there’s silence, both still firmly in place next to one another and looking at the surveillance photos spread out on the war room table. they don’t have the physical, blow out fights of their youth anymore. they keep it that way by not moving at all when they argue.

        “you can’t trust him.”                                                                                             “i don’t.”        “you do. you have to. you love him.”

alexi couldn’t describe what her voice sounded like, in all honesty. he just knew what it meant, what it carried. fear, resignation, pain. he breaks their rule of no moving to pull her into a tight hug, his lips planted on the top of her head. she’s limp in his arms, her head against his chest.

her words are muffled by his shirt when she speaks. “i can’t lose you again.”                                                      “you’re not.”                                                                                  “there’s no happy ending, lex.”