#hartless

Eve could barely remember the drive home, or swapping to her walking leg before forcing herself through the front of her door. She remembered checking behind her for those telltale yellow eyes in the dark, checking her windows were locked and her blinds shuttered. Only once her perimeter was secure had Eve’s leg crumpled beneath her, before she'd even made it to a comfortable place to lie down. The floor was apparently her new doctor’s office. With weak hands, she tore open her medical supply bag, and had threaded a suture into a needle and began to press it into her skin when her proximity sensors began to alert.

Her head shot up, one hand pulling out her cracked phone, the other reaching for her shotgun (she must have grabbed that at some point too, but Eve did not remember). Before the stranger even touched her door, Eve had their face on camera.

The person on the other side of the camera was not Wyatt.

Eve should have called Jade. She knew she should have called Jade. Daniel would have come in the same way she had for him after the night with the beserker. But those friendly names felt as distant as an ocean apart right now. It was easier to text the name of someone who already hated her.

Jade loved a fae the same way Owen loved a shifter. Daniel loved a shifter and liked Wyatt. Daiyu had already chosen Wyatt over her once. Theo was… around, and she could have asked him, but that would mean admitting defeat to the one person in town she knew was on her side. In the scheme of people Eve could afford to be disappointed and could afford to disappoint, a human was the smallest threat. Especially one who was so easily manipulated. 

“Computer,” Eve rasped, “open the front door.” She balanced a shotgun on her knee as the door swung open from a distance, revealing Mickey. Eve cocked her head. “Be a dear and touch the little figurine on the sideboard before you come in? It's iron. Can’t really afford a surprise right now.” 

She held open her arms to invite him to look at her. Sitting on the floor of her living room because she hadn't made it to the couch, hemostatic dressings applied haphazardly on top of the ruined remains of her running bra and shorts, that were now stained crimson. Wyatt's teeth had left a corset of deep gashes that ran right around her chest and back, paired with a second alligator bite that had caught her hip. Deep black and purple bruises poked out from under her vest, her shorts, her arms. And that was ignoring the older scars, like the mesh of deliberately cut lines in her left shoulder to hide where someone had once left a calling card in her skin. Eve knew exactly how she looked, blood soaked and trembling. Weak. Defeated.

Mickey hated her, but he would never finish her off. His humanity meant he did not have the stomach for it; his humanity meant that even in this state, he had no chance against her

—-

After Oliver, Mickey couldn’t think of anything worse than trying to find a way to go back to work. The idea of trying to take care of strangers when he couldn’t even take care of his own friends made him sick to his stomach. As it turned out, there was something worse. Mickey just hadn’t thought about it yet.

The door opened before Mickey ever had the chance to knock. He shouldn’t be surprised, knowing what he knew about Eve. Though given recent events he was quickly learning that he knew extremely little about his friend. Former friend. Coworker now, he supposed? He didn’t have the energy to think about it right now. Too many thoughts about Oliver on his brain. Thoughts that quickly dissipated as he took in the sight of Eve. On the floor, caked in blood and looking a few inches away from death, and a shot gun pointed at him. “What the fuck, Eve?” he held his hands up in surrender, medical bag abandoned and dangling from the strap loosely looped over his shoulder. It took a moment before he realized what she was asking. “You think I turned into a fae since the last time I saw you? Is that even a thing?” he slowly reached over and set his hand on the figurine, giving it a little pet before he glanced around the door frame, “How did you even open this?” He was trying for humor, something that should come so naturally to him. But he could tell how hollow the words sounded. 

Standing in the door frame, Mickey waited for further instruction. He didn’t plan on rushing someone with a shotgun, whether he was friends-former friends-coworker adjacent with them or not. “What the hell happened to you?”

—--

Eve watched him reach over and tap the iron figurine. He did not flinch, and his flesh did not burn. Small wins, then. “Have you heard of a doppelganger? Or a verdoppel?” Eve lowered her shotgun, setting it down beside her. Her speech was slow and staccato, as her ribs burned with every movement. “Your face is more than pretty enough to steal.” 

Her mouth soured the moment she said those words. There was no one left to betray with flirting comments, even when she didn’t mean them. Eve did not want to think of Henri right now, and yet it was impossible not to, when the person she’d wanted to call most was the one she could not stand to be near. Not when his betrayal had been so much worse than her saying a few nice words to another man who hated her.

Instead of answering his question, Eve huffed. The movement was a mistake, lancing hot pain through her chest, forcing her to pause before answering with a demonstration. “Computer, lock front door.” The door swung shut behind Mickey, locking firmly. She did not consider how that might look from his perspective, she only wanted the door to be secure from Wyatt’s reach.

“Someone tried to eat me.” Eve held up her arm, to show him the alligator tooth still jutting out of her tricep, as if the teeth marks around her torso and the slight wetness to her hair didn’t reveal enough about just how deep she’d gotten herself down Wyatt’s throat before he’d spat her out like cheap tobacco. She waved Mickey over with one hand, her gaze dropping. She wanted her next words to be rageful, but they deflated in her mouth, petulant and pathetic. “…I don’t need you to give a shit, I just need you to fix me.”

—

“No” Mickey replied simply. Even mourning wasn’t enough to reduce him to single word answers though it seemed, as he felt compelled to speak again. “I mean. I’ve heard of doppelgangers. Like the idea of them. And in movies or whatever. I’m guessing the real life version of those and the verdo-whatever are a bit more menacing than some random dude roaming around town that looks sorta like me in the right light.” He almost launched into a story about a doppelganger he had encountered once while skiing, a man that looked so eerily similar to him that he had to follow him down the slope and take a picture with him. But he was still pissed at Eve, and he was still sad about everything else. Not even her flirting could crack a smile on Mickey’s normally very smiling face. Plus, her heart didn’t seem into it either.

As the door slammed shut Mickey leapt forward in surprise, ignoring the slight pain in his leg at the sudden movement. Whining about his mostly healed leg at this point just felt rude, considering Eve’s state. “Your place is set up like Smart house? The disney channel movie? I don’t feel like that ended well for them, by the way.” Should he be worried that Eve was going to shoot him? That he was now trapped in here with her? Maybe, considering his sister’s insistence that she was about to be murdered by Eve and the fact that if being a hunter was a secret, Mickey now knew it. But he wasn’t convinced, and it was only partly due to the fact that Eve was technically relying on Mickey to save her life right now. He had no idea if Eve was a murderer, but he didn’t think she wanted to murder him. 

Someone tried to eat her. Of course they did. It was just insane enough to be completely believable even before she showed off the tooth as evidence. “Yikes.” The absurdity almost made him want to smile, but apparently that feature was temporarily offline. Maybe it was voice activated by Eve’s smart house. Finally summoned, Mickey gripped his medical bag and crept forward. “Noted. I’ll try to refrain from giving a shit in that case.”

His hands were shaking. That had never happened before. Even as a kid Mickey remembered having steady hands, effortlessly threading needles to try to self repair his worn hockey jerseys when they got torn. His hands only shook on that night he had felt true fear. But now the thought of trying to save someone he considered - or at least used to consider - a friend and he was choking. He grabbed at his wrist with his opposite hand and pulled it against him, shaking it off before unzipping his bag. “I need to do some cleaning and sanitizing here. The way you are now I can’t even tell where the actual injuries start and end. I’m guessing I don’t need to warn you that this is going to sting?”

—

“Ask Estella about them sometime,” Eve said quietly, without the strength to describe doppelgangers as in reality in detail. There was something off about the way Mickey spoke, probably because he wanted to be anywhere but here. Eve could not blame him.

“This isn’t a TV show,” Eve replied mildly, nodding to confirm his question. It was definitely not a disney show, either. This kind of blood loss was R-rated at least, nothing Disney would touch with a ten foot pole. Worse, this was the kind of movie that didn’t come with a happy ending. She should have known that, by now. She had known it for a while, and had let herself forget, in the same way that she had boxed away the horror of being in Max’s basement. Something bright and brilliant had come into her light, and Eve had let herself believe that she could be in the dark and keep that light too. She had forgotten to maintain her little candle of hope in his absence, and that was too mature for Disney too. 

“Like that will take much effort,” Eve derided, unable to put any bite in her tone to back up the bark of her words. She felt she ought to shift her weight, either sit up or lie down, rather than this pathetic half-between slouch that served neither of them. Whatever strength had carried her out of the forest and presence of mind that had let her drive back home was gone, fading out of her. She could barely bear moving at all, now that Mickey was approaching. “I’m no longer a threat to your sister like this.”

“All good. I can take a bit of pain.” If anything, the sharp jolts of pain every time she moved were far more preferable than the nonstop ache since she had betrayed Emilio and had had her confrontation with Henri. The heaviness that sat behind her eyes every night as she failed to fall asleep made the tooth digging into her bone feel like a small scrape. Her heart was a far greater wound, a far deeper disability than the loss of a limb. Her heart had almost killed her today - the dozen knives that Wyatt called his teeth were just a byproduct of that. It still might; Eve could not see the way that Mickey’s hands trembled as he looked at her.

—

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about my sister.” Mickey suggested. For many reasons, Estella was the last person Mickey wanted to think about right now.  Whatever had actually occurred between the two was still up in the air, but had been the start of whatever was going on between Mickey and Eve right now. Plus, Mickey knew how Estella would react if she knew where he was right now. She would freak out regardless, probably worse now considering he had shown up here tonight after spending the last couple of weeks avoiding her and their parents as much as humanly possible. He just couldn’t face them right now. Thinking about Oliver made him think about his parent’s death. He couldn’t face his new family when he spent so much time thinking about his old one. It was easier facing Eve. 

This definitely wasn’t a tv show. Or if it was, it was one of those shitty soap operas. All that was missing was an evil twin. Actually, maybe that was where the doppelgangers that Eve was talking about came in? Regardless, Mickey didn’t have the energy to muster up some witty retort to Eve’s comment. 

“What does that mean?” Mickey was genuinely perplexed by the venom in Eve’s words. Not that she was capable of much anger or vitriol in this state, but he still felt the accusation. “If you think I’m happy to see you like this- well, I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel about that. It’s not like I want you dead. I especially don’t want you dying right in front of me.” Sure, the two had a complicated relationship right now. Mickey wouldn’t call her a friend, but wasn’t quite ready to call her the enemy either. “Wow. Great news. If I remember correctly, you implied that you never intended to be a threat in the first place. You and I even symbolically promise-bound ourselves over it, yeah?”

Three deep breaths. That was the compromise Mickey allowed for himself. He could shake and tremble as long as it took to take three deep breaths before he steeled himself and willed his hands to stop shaking. The mission was only half successful, he still felt uneasy as he pulled open his medical bag and began grabbing items out and setting them on the coffee table. But he felt more grounded now at least, and it wasn’t like he needed a steady hand to clean the wounds. It meant he had a few more minutes before he really needed to get back in action. He got to work quickly, not bothering moving gently for Eve’s sake. Clearly, the pain from his alcohol soaked wipes and wiping couldn’t match whatever the hell had done this to her. “Would you prefer to sit in silence the entire time or you want to tell me more about whatever this was? Was it a job?” It was either an attempt to distract her from the pain or Mickey’s inability to sit in silence, even when he had told himself multiple times walking over that that was exactly what he had planned to do, that forced him to speak.

—-

“If I thought someone was after my sister, I’d want them dead, I wouldn’t blame you.”  Eve replied effortfully, with a shrug she immediately regretted. He reminded her of her promise, and Eve stared at him. She wished she could have hidden the hurt more plainly on her face.

“Told you I didn’t hunt before, and you stopped believing me. Why does a deal or a promise make me more believable?” For fae, sure, but in human hands, they were just words. And yet, centuries of fae influences on human languages had driven them to mean something more important. Eve was not sure what frustrated her more; that she had to resort to being more fae-like to be trusted, or that he and his sister had marked her as a murderer without any attempted murder. Although she supposed now, that Henri saw her the same way, as a monster. Estella was probably comforting his right at that moment. “I never needed this deal to comply to.”

“I wouldn't show up to a job dressed like this,” Eve replied to his question, talking if only because she knew that silence meant inching closer to dying. Talking helped her stay in the moment, in her cropped sports top and skin tight shorts. “I tried to help a friend. I burned a lot of bridges in trying to help him. Stupid of me. My duty depends on me having allies.” But not friends. Not partners. Those were nice to have, until it got in the way. Until her heart begged for her to interfere with a hunter’s hunt until it tore her in half, or look at the man she loved and refuse to change for him, or be tortured just for being loved. Then it was just a liability. Today, if she hadn't cared for Owen and liked Wyatt, she would have done what any reasonable hunter should have, and aimed for Wyatt's brain the moment he first snapped at her, when he was close enough for her to do real damage. He had been a friend. “Turns out, this bridge had a vore fetish.” 

Her heart was making her weak. This was not surprising, Eve thought. There were so many warnings in hunter journals about the risks of emotionally compromised hunters. They lost their way and lost sight of who they were. Eve was clearly losing sight, she wouldn’t feel so torn in two if she wasn’t. She grit her teeth together and groaned as Mickey wiped away more blood. She glanced down at the jagged but shallow alligator bite on her hip, and then more nervously at the deeper, jagged cuts that formed a U-shape around the front of her chest, knowing there was a matching one on the back. Her hair was still damp from Wyatt’s tongue when he had had the top half of her torso in his mouth. Eve looked away, blinking hot liquid from her eyes. 

-

Mickey couldn’t argue Eve’s logic. In the moment, when he first messaged Eve he felt that seething anger and rage. It was his sister. Whether Eve had known or not, it had felt like a betrayal from a friend that Mickey cared about. But if Mickey truly believed that Eve was going to kill Estella, he wouldn’t be here right now. Sure, they had the deal, but if Mickey really wanted to make sure Eve never hurt Estella, wouldn’t it be so much easier to sit here and watch her bleed out? 

“My parents always warned me I was too trusting.” Mickey shrugged, his shrug looked far less painful than the one Eve had given him moments ago. “My birth parents and my adopted parents actually.” After all, it was that too trusting nature that had led to the death of his parents in the first place. He couldn’t imagine what they must have thought of him in those last moments. “So trying to figure out if I’m supposed to trust my sister or my friend sucked. I’m sure you can imagine.” Estella was so scared and so sure when she had reached out to him. How else was he supposed to react? “I still don’t know what happened or what I’m supposed to think now. But I never wanted you dead.”

Thankful that Eve had chosen context over silence, Mickey got to work cleaning as she spoke. Either her pain tolerance was insane or the talking was a helpful distraction. Remembering his experience with the aquarium and how painful that had been, he was guessing the former in Eve’s case. Any normal person wouldn’t be able to function right now, let alone talk it out. He knew he was supposed to be mad at her, but for the moment he was impressed instead. “Your duty? Does that refer to the hunter thing or the supernatural secrecy thing?” He knew that wasn’t exactly the point nor the center of her explanation, but he had always been curious about how she got started with this. If she was looking for a distraction, then this may be the best time to learn about it. Despite the situation and it clearly not fitting, Mickey found himself chuckling. Even now Eve was able to make a joke out of it. “So this uh- whatever the hell caused this, was one of those allies then? Is that what had you concerned when I showed up?” Is that what the two of them were? Allies? Had they always been allies or had they been friends at some point?

As Mickey cleaned, he began to get a better picture. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed Eve, he just thought she was being hyperbolic. But as he wiped away the blood and cleaned the wounds it was becoming more and more clear that something had truly tried to eat her. The long gashes running along her sides and up to her shoulders weren’t just cuts, they were evenly spaced bite marks. Something had bitten down into her, something big. “This is insane. Not to be cynical, but if you weren’t a hunter I’m not sure you could have survived this. How the hell did you get yourself home?” For now, he just needed to focus on avoiding infection and slowing the bleeding. If he could get the wounds cleaned and wrapped, he’d have to hope that the hunter healing would take care of the rest.

—

“I was looking after some teenagers that got aggro at her. They were scared,” And so it went. Even when hunters and supernatural beings meant each other no harm, when they were as close to a truce as possible, the reasoning mattered less than the outcome. “I don’t blame her.” She just also didn’t have to like it. Even less than that, she disliked how possessive Estella was about Henri, but that hardly matterred now. Henri had turned out not to be a catch, and not someone who could truly understand the cost of her choices because he avoided thinking about his own. Even fae did not approve of kin killers, but she doubted Estella knew about all of that. 

Mickey’s hands were deft and quick, and she held as still as she could, her eyes drifting shut. The only evidence of the pain that cut through her with every wipe was the occasional clenching of her fist, and hitch of her breath. The adrenaline was crashing harder now, as Eve felt the groan and ache of her ribs more and more with each passing breath. With every touch, she began to flinch more. Not because of the pain, but because of unfamiliar hands on her skin. “The secrecy is my hunter thing,” Eve answered honestly. Everything about her was starting to be heavy, like bricks attached to her limbs, dragging her underwater. “Yeah. Him or his partner.” The thought of Owen coming to her door wielding a knife to accompany the tooth still sticking out of her arm added a new anvil to the weights on her chest. “Probably not soon,” she tried to reassure Mickey. I hope. 

She smiled a little at his incredulity, bitterly. “I drove. If I didn’t, I would have died.” She could have called for help. Daniel, Jade, Daiyu and Kelly would have come in the aftermath, even if they might not have done anything to Wyatt. When a hunter called, another came, that was another of the basic rules they all ought to live by. But with all of the choices hanging over all of the hunters recently, Eve wasn’t sure who she even wanted to be comforted by (or carried, like she had Daniel).

The only thing Eve was confident about was that she did not deserve it. The blackness behind her eyelids was starting to feel even darker now. It was important to keep talking, Eve thought. If she stopped, she might not ever speak again. “When I lost my leg, it took hours to find me. I was awake the whole time. Eighteen broken bones, on top of the ones that weren’t attached anymore. We’re built to just… keep going, until there’s… nothing left.” 

At some point while she spoke, her hand found his. She was not sure whether it was to stop him, to reassure him, or to find some solace of her own. Eve’s eyes cracked open, seeking his, with a soft smile. “Worth it, though.” 

It had to be worth it, for it to cost all of this. 

-

“Scared of Stellie? Did she brighten their days too much?” Mickey’s laugh dripped with sarcasm. It was harsher than he meant it to sound, harsher than he thought he was familiar with. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight here. Of course he didn’t want to be here, but it didn’t mean he wanted to argue while here. He wasn’t sure it had anything to do with Eve at all. “Sorry. Honestly, I wish we could just leave it all behind and never bring it up again. Dwelling on it isn’t helping anyone.” That was Mickey’s usual modus operandi anyways, right? 

There was a rhythm that came with medical work. To sound cliche, it was like riding a bike. It became muscle memory. Mickey could do half of this shit in his sleep, and he probably has - not that he’d ever admit. Eventually, the shaking hands gave in to the comfort of this familiar practice. Mickey let himself take a breath of relief. It was some kind of comfort that his hands didn’t seem to be totally lost causes. He remembered being pissed at Eve. Angry about Estella. Angry about not knowing she had been a hunter. But if Mickey was willing to admit some things to himself, he could deeply relate to that secrecy. He could hardly hold it against her that she hadn’t volunteered her hunter background to him. “Oh good. He had an ally too.” he felt his chest tighten at the idea that someone, or someones could show up here to finish the job. 

“Geez. I know you and I haven’t exactly been besties recently or anything, but you should have called me in sooner. I know the original deal only included medical services, but I think I could have made an exception and been your uber too. Free first ride, obviously.” There we go, a joke! Maybe Mickey wasn’t completely broken after all. 

The worst night of Mickey’s life involved several broken bones and lying alone in his parent’s home, waiting to die. It was impossible to compare the two, but Mickey remembered how it felt staring at the ceiling of his home and waiting for it all to be over. He remembered the weeks and months following that as he laid in a hospital bed. He didn’t fantasize about getting out of that bed because he knew there was nothing to go back to. It had taken him years to move on from that, and he was sure that he couldn’t handle it happening again. And again and again. This life that hunters seemed to live, it didn’t seem sustainable. “So what, you just keep going through this again and again until you die? And you’re just supposed to be okay with that?”

Worth it though. Mickey liked to stay positive, but Eve had found him at a bad time, when his optimism was at an all time low. Still, it was hard to feel too doom or gloom when she had grabbed his hand. It was small, it may not have meant anything at all actually, but Mickey was pretty sure that it meant the two didn’t hate each other. He squeezed her hand before trying to force himself to be more lighthearted. “You say that now, but that’s just because I haven’t started the stitches yet. Try not to kick my ass, which I know you could still do even like this.”

–

Your sister is a targeted nuclear bomb, Eve wanted to argue. Your sister barbequed a New England death worm with a flick of her wrist. Your sister has girl bestfriend vibes and is weirdly possessive of Henri. Not that that last one really mattered anymore, did it? Estella could have him. What were a few human deaths to a fae, after all. Fae had such a warped sense of justice that Henri might fit right in at an Aos Si. Her stomach turned at the thought, and when Mickey suggested they stop talking about it, Eve just nodded sharply.   

“Yeah. Ones who should be my allies first,” Eve admitted instead, her voice cracking and crumbling. Hunters who should choose other hunters over their favourite local reptile. Ones who should have made the sacrifice she made with Emilio over and over, who never did. She got it. The pain in her chest was older than the bite Wyatt had taken into it, and the liquid-ice burn of the sterilization was only a (convincing) distraction from a more deep-seated tear in her chest. 

“I didn’t want to call you into the woods when I couldn’t protect you,” Eve said quietly, even though the truth was that it hadn't occurred to her. She hadn't called a hunter because the numbers she could have called had dwindled so much in the last few weeks, and because she had been embarrassed that Eve Farran, queen of secrecy, had almost been murdered because of her fucking Strava account. Because, despite herself, she was still too human. Eve was not sure she could bear it. 

“What else is there?” Eve asked quietly. “Of course I'm okay with it. Not everyone gets a purpose.” She needed to figure out a way to be okay with it again, Eve told herself. What greater evidence of her being emotionally compromised was there than the bite mark right around her chest? Eve had made the right choice with Emilio, but it still ripped her apart. With Henri, she had failed to, her heart obstructing her duty to keep other hunters safe. And she would not even have been injured at all if she had not cared about Owen enough to try and save him from his own resurrection. Even the day with Maxine has been caused by her wretched heart. It would be easier not to feel so deeply, so that she might believe the lies she told herself once more. 

Her lips quirked up in a small smile as he squeezed her hand, and Eve forced herself to let go, before this too became an axis to compromise herself with too. “I'll do my best to refrain. Just get it over with,” She murmured, slowly starting to list sideways. “How much trouble am I in if I fall asleep?”

–

“Sounds like it was a bit personal” Mickey knew he was pressing his luck. In the physical distress Eve was in now, the last thing she probably needed was Mickey poking and prodding into her personal choices that had led to whatever betrayal she had suffered tonight. But it was also the first time that Eve seemed to be sharing actual details about her work, and Mickey found himself unable to resist the temptation. Besides, he had a feeling that Eve would shut it down anyways and close herself back off. Mickey was at least smart enough to know to back off once that happened. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been, but Mickey was a bit surprised that Eve seemed concerned with his safety. After all, the two weren’t exactly on the friendliest of terms. Then again, he supposed that was the whole point of her calling or whatever the hunter mantra was considered. Their job was to protect humans from the supernatural. Or at least he was pretty sure that was the point. Even non-friends. “I totally would have been a lunchable to whatever the thing was that attacked you. I have no survival instincts. Plus, let’s face it I’d be delicious.” Avoiding the relevant conversation with humor again; at least Mickey was consistent. 

A purpose. Mickey felt a tingle run down his spine at the thought. The memories echoed in his head. The same word that his parents would use when they disappeared for a few days or brought some person back to their house talking about exorcisms. They had found their purpose in life too, and it had gotten them in the exact same situation that Eve had found herself in tonight. The only difference was that Mickey was old enough and smart enough now to stop Eve from dying. “I’d argue that there are a lot of other things.” Mickey shrugged. “There are plenty of other purposes to be found. Or even wandering aimlessly with no purpose usually involves less almost getting eaten.” He knew the words would bounce off of Eve. Even if he saved her life, he couldn’t never convince her to give up on this purpose she held so close to her heart. He knew it the same way that he knew his parents wouldn’t have given up even if they had survived that night. They would have just ended up dead sometime later down the road. At least then it may not have been Mickey’s fault. 

Suture kit at the ready, Mickey knew Eve wouldn’t want to be coddled. The best method would just be to dive in. “If you fall asleep I’m actually going to be so impressed. And I’ll allow you the beauty rest as long as you promise to keep breathing.”

—

“Murder is always personal to someone,” Eve huffed. It was why she was angrier at Daniel than Talia. She could understand why Talia would want hunters dead because it was personal, she couldn’t understand why a hunter would choose to be with someone who murdered hunters knowingly. 

Now that she knew about them, Henri’s crimes clung to her skin like an oil spill that no one else could see. She couldn’t stop thinking of all the times that Henri had had blood on his clothes or talked about a hunt. How often had he come back from killing a human and Eve had invited herself over for not-so-casual sex? Touched her with the same hands that had just snapped someone else’s neck? Eve had no idea how Daniel did it, when the thought made her want to hurl. (Apparently Henri felt the same about her.)

It was easier to think about how calling Mickey now had been the right choice. Look dad, you could be proud of me now. This time, when something had taken her between its teeth and shaken her like a doll, Eve hadn’t screamed, she hadn’t cried, she hadn’t endangered another human for her own survival. 

“I wouldn’t know, you never let me taste you,” Eve teased back, with no energy behind it. It felt like cheating, even now. 

He was quick to warn her of the danger of her purpose, but how could Mickey possibly understand. Mediums had the same calling, technically, but so many of them chose to avoid it that those who didn’t used a different term, Exorcist. “It's not my purpose that got me eaten,” Eve replied quietly, and finally answered his initial question. “I cared about someone. Went outside of scope to help them. Pissed someone else off. That person has teeth. They would have done this even if I was an ordinary human.” 

“I'll try.” Eve murmured with  a small smile, slowly sinking down to the floor. As soon as the got close, she flinched. There was no side that didn’t hurt to lie on, no plane of her torse that wasn’t going to need stitches. The best she could do was resting her head on the coach beside her, and letting her body sag into thin air.

As the needle began pulling through her skin, a small tear spilled down her cheek and down into the fabric of the couch. If Eve could have found the strength to stand, she would have lifted herself onto the couch, rather than lying pathetically on the cool linoleum floor.

-

“Touché” Mickey countered. Words failed him now, something he rarely found himself thinking. There was nothing he could add, no joke to break the tension. Something fucked had gone down tonight that had Eve clinging to life and acting far different than he had ever seen her. He could ask exactly what she meant by murder, since as far as he was aware she was still alive, albeit barely. But asking about a murder right now would finish off the already fading mood, plus it could ruin whatever delicate sort of peace that Eve and Mickey had settled into. 

Mikey grinned at Eve’s flirting, an objectively insane statement considering their current situation and drama. Sure, the words didn’t carry that same ease and lightheartedness that their conversations used to, but it was something. “I hate to tell you, but you missed your chance. Somebody scooped me up already.” Luc and him hadn’t exactly defined whatever they were doing outside of going on dates. And there hadn’t been any tasting yet, by any definition, but it gave Mickey the opportunity to bring Luc up. He found himself eager to bring Luc up a lot. 

As Eve explained her situation, Mickey found himself circling around the point to try to find his own. His parents would have made a similar excuse, he could feel it. That death was around them everywhere, it could happen at any time. But Mickey could search that haystack for his own needle. “I could argue that if you weren’t a hunter you may not have ended up in a situation like that in the first place.” Mickey began, knowing that he was walking on incredibly thin ice. He had some personal experience with the dangers of thin ice. “But if you weren’t a hunter and this had happened, you and I wouldn’t be having much of a conversation at all. So I guess that counts for something.”

There was a delicate balance between working quickly and working efficiently. Nobody liked being stitched up, but many people had the luxury or morphine or something to help dull the pain, at a real hospital. Eve got to sit and stew in the pain and the emotional turmoil, lucky her. Mickey wanted to get it done as quickly as possible, but he also needed to do good work. Clearly, hunters could scar, he had the evidence in front of him, but he could at least do his best to limit the damage. 

When he finished, he cleaned around the wounds and inspected them, “I think this is as good as it’s going to get.” Mickey considered, glancing towards the door. Whatever happened with the two of them tonight, he had no idea if tomorrow they’d still feel like enemies or if they could go back to being friendly. He could escape now, leave her in the comfort that he was confident she wouldn’t die in the middle of the night. “I think I should stay. Just to make sure you’re okay. I can help you to your bed and then crash on the couch.” Mickey offered. He had no idea if he wanted her to accept the offer or if he wanted her to kick him out. “Wherever you go, I need you to take that shotgun though.”

—

“If I had been a better hunter, I wouldn’t have ended up like this either,” Eve replied just as firmly. She wasn’t sure if her hand pistol would have been enough against the goliath of Wyatt Barlow’s lamia form, but she should have tried. If she had been a better hunter, she wouldn’t have interfered in the work of a necromancer to begin with. 

It was easy for Mickey to tell her that it was bad to be a hunter, that it wasn’t worth teh risk to her life. Eve was spared the need to reply and prove herself as the needle pressed into her skin over and over. She kept her eyes pressed into the fabric of her couch, her hand curling tight around the handle of her shotgun, her teeth rattling with a low groan as Mickey pulled the tooth from her arm. 

Once he was done, looked down at herself. The even spread of the tooth marks looked like a blanket stitch of gashes, now neatly pulled together with real stitches. There was something ironic about that, she thought distantly, like her body were two parts that were more likely to split in half with every growing day. And Mickey’s half-forgiveness and kindness weren’t quite enough to pull her back together again.

But she could hold herself in one for a little longer, for him. Eve spun the icy ring on her finger. He looked to the door, and Eve followed his gaze. Fear gripped her throat. It was a foolish thing: he would be no help if Wyatt or Owen (god) came ringing. But having someone to watch her injuries, watch her, that might not be the worst thing. 

It would be an easy lie to spin, Eve thought, to give him a purpose. She was so good at using people’s desire to help to her benefit, too. Eve had mastered a rare talent: most hunters were tools (also like that), but she was a toolmaker (still like that). Looking at Mickey, Eve opened her mouth to build her deception, but all that came out was: “Okay.”

Maybe, just this once, she could let herself be human, terrified to be home alone, reaching for a tiny glimmer of warmth. She tried to push herself to her feet, but it was clear Eve wasn’t getting anywhere without help, now that her adrenaline was draining away. “Maybe you can tell me all about who scooped you up.”