Higher, Further, Faster Baby!

He couldn’t follow up the trip. Why couldn’t he follow up? It was a perfect opening and all he did was silently watch as she picked herself up off the ground. She was always good at that part- persistent enough to make him proud. Sandor was proud. She’d lied to him, mocked his feelings and he was still fucking proud of Bex and who she’d made herself into. Weak, Yilmaz.

He let the punch fly, loose as it was, wondering if the pain would bring the rage back. He hoped so, it was the only solace he had nowadays- red and white so blinding it blocked out the sorrow, the hole in the core of his being. It didn’t. “What, did I beat the snark out of you?” rang hollow, a shadow of his usual banter. 

Suddenly he needed to be somewhere- anywhere else. A burst of energy had him pulling her down by the shoulder as his knee pulled up towards her face. But as soon as the movement was completed he was turning away, reeling as if he’d been the one hit. Gravel rolled in his words as he tugged his hand wrappings off, “Enough, get cleaned up and get out.” He couldn’t get to his thresholds like this, but he knew where he’d find the people who could push past them.

It hadn’t been her intention to mock him. Piss him off? Sure. But only to hopefully provoke a reaction that might make him wake up to what seemed so obvious to her. Clearly she’d miscalculated somewhat. Even his response seemed hollow, not their normal banter. But still, Bex gave a shark’s grin and shook her head. “Never. It’s in my DNA, you can’t get rid of it.” 

He might not have beaten the snark out of her, but he’d certainly beaten her. Speed was her advantage, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop him pulling her face down to meet his knee. Bex felt a crack in her nose, and pain explode through her eye. But even as she straightened up--one eye closed and nose bleeding--it was Sandor who spun away. She was breathing hard, and it took a few moments for her to believe him enough to drop her hands. But he was tugging off his hand wrappings and telling her to get out. 

“sorry. kind of learned over the years not to trust a drug dealer with a knife. no offense, honestly. i wouldn’t have trusted myself with a knife all those years ago, you know what i mean?” vincent replied, though he had to admit he did still feel far better when he saw that she was empty handed. 

“sandor? something happen there?” vincent asked as they walked and he used his free hand to wave down the cars passing by, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. he knew of the man, of course - infamous for his temper, from what vin had gathered over the years - but why would she be getting involved with someone like that? then again, he supposed, he really shouldn’t be sticking his nose in anyone’s business. he realized belatedly that her nose was bleeding and he quietly offered her his handkerchief (may it rest in peace) before getting back to waving.

a few minutes passed and he let out a sigh of relief when one of the cabs stopped in front of them and he hoisted her in, getting in quickly afterwards. the address was easy enough to remember and he guided the driver, emphasizing on the urgency of the situation.

it was a very good thing that bex was relatively light, because god knew he wasn’t the biggest or strongest person out there and after some fumbling around, he’d managed to bring her up to the right room. 

“you know,” he began again as he waited for her to open up the door, and as he was catching his breath, “you might wanna start considering dealing somewhere other than the labyrinth. maybe try to hit the upper markets.” 

Bex huffed a laugh, conceding that Vincent was kind of right there not to trust drug dealers with knives. Especially when things went south. But still, on a more personal level she was offended. She wouldn’t attack him. Certainly not now. “Yeah, I get it,” she muttered. To be totally fair, she would hardly be the most trusting of a drug dealer she wasn’t close with after running into them holding a knife. Bex didn’t exactly feel like being totally fair right now though.

Of course, it was harder to hold a grudge when he was literally helping to hold her up. She took the hankerchief with a mumbled ‘thanks’ thinking to herself that she’ll have to replace it. The question about Sandor made her chuckle. “He’s teaching me to fight,” she explained. “He gave me the shiner and the bruised nose I already had.” Bex conviently left out the part where he didn’t normally hit her that hard, and the part where she’d kind of provoked him during the fight too.

When the cab finally stopped, she did her best to help him, but really Vincent guided her into the backseat. Once in, she let her eyes close, trying to ignore the pain radiating. And the dizziness. “Remind me, what’re the symptoms of concussion?” she asked Vincent, without opening her eyes.

Close combat fights were not the long, drawn-out debacles that media made them seem. A person could really only focus through so much pain unless they had specific training. A close fight with weapons was even faster, usually over in only a few moves with someone either down or bleeding too badly to continue. 

Fists were the only thing he’d train Bex in. He didn’t really want to hurt her, certainly not permanently. “Just fu-focus.” Keep your fucking head on, Yilmaz. It was a solid punch, and it was only the fact that he’d seen it coming and rolled slightly to lessen the blow that kept his breath in his lungs. Liar. Liar. Liar. He barely missed grabbing her wrist as she pulled it back, lessons taught and learned. So instead he marked a wide punch like before, twisting to hook a foot around her ankle at the last moment. Shouldn’t have asked. Your fault. But she lied. He grimaced and shook his head lightly in a useless attempt to clear it.

Bex knew that this fight wouldn’t last much longer. Either she’d be too hurt to continue, or Sandor would stop. Well, normally he might stop before hurting her. But she’d seemingly pissed him off more than she’d ever done before. She wasn’t 100% sure he’d stop until she was actually too hurt to continue. But what better way to test herself anyway? Push her limits.

vincent’s eyes widened a moment when he saw the knife in her hand, now unsure if he should have just ran the other way. but so it seemed that he was still in her good graces and he stepped forward once he realized she ( hopefully ) wouldn’t be swinging the blade his way. the lucky - if they could even call it that - was that it didn’t seem to be anything mob-related. if it had been, he probably would have fled the scene before she’d even seen him just because he usually did try to stay out of these matters. mostly because he didn’t want to know, but also because it was a part of his job to stay as impartial to either side as possible.

“welcome to new york city,” he managed, trying to lighten the mood and immediately realizing it probably wasn’t the time or place. he flinched one more time as the knife hit the floor with a light twang, though once that weapon was gone from her hand, he was more than happy to step forward and offer her a hand.

“where’s home? i promise i won’t stalk you if you tell me.” he said, gently taking one of her arms and tugging her forward. staying around wouldn’t do them any good, even if that person hadn’t been mob-affiliated. 

“you’ll be fine once you get home. probably? i’m - look, maybe we should just try to catch a cab. my treat.” vincent mumbled, not sure if he was helping at all, but he did hike an arm around her to help her, slowly making his way towards a bigger street where the cabs would be. “guess this kind of thing comes with the job, huh. figure he was trying to steal your stuff?” 

Bex rolled her eyes and scoffed lightly at his comment, regretting the former as her head pounded. “Yeah, yeah. City of dreams.” She saw him flinch this time when the knife clattered to the ground. “Calm down,” she muttered. “I’m not going to attack you. Seriously.” It felt like an insult that she would attack without any kind of provocation. Especially not someone who worked for Tyler. Not many people saw Bex as intimidating anyway, though she supposed the knife she’d managed to grab helped.

She took the offered hand, grunting slightly as he tugged her forward. “Not far from here,” she told him and told him the address of her apartment. Even if he tried to stalk her, she didn’t think it would be too hard to convince him why that wasn’t a good idea. If he flinched from just the knife before she was making threats, well... Not that she thought she’d have to do that. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly, wrapping her own arm around his shoulders. But the offer of the cab, on someone else’s dime too, was a bit too tempting when her head was spinning in such a way she felt like she was going to throw up. “‘kay,” she agreed, letting him lead her towards the brighter main road. “No. Or at least, I don’t think he was. Didn’t have anything on me anyway. I don’t tend to just randomly carry that kind of thing.” She sniffed, wincing. “Fuck, my face hurts. First Sandor, now this?” She could taste blood in her mouth, dripped from her nose. “Bastard.”

He hummed in agreement as he took in her form. A good start, maybe they could do some solid work. Of course, she could never keep her mouth shut. The ringing in his ears started softly, growing and pulsing until he couldn’t hear anything except that metallic whine and an echo of Liar. Life was easy in the red haze. He’d been taught to let it wash over him, to use it. A small part of him was ecstatic that she hadn’t been telling the truth. He could revisit that part later. He had coaching to do.

Bex was quicker but Sandor had years of experience and surprise on his side. It was child’s play to knock away her hand as it came towards him. Mere muscle memory to send his own fist to the side of her head- to follow up with a blow on just the right angle to bloody her brow and nose without breaking anything. Perks to large hands and small opponents. “Keep your hands up,” he said flatly. Liar. Liar. Liar. 

She could see that small shift in him, and Bex knew immediately she was about to hurt. There was a difference that she had learnt between when he was taking it easy and when she was about to be left on her ass. Half the benefit of Sandor’s training from her perspective was just learning how to keep getting back up when he knocked her down. Like now, when his large fist hit her head and sent her stumbling.

As Halim waited for an answer, he thought he could hear something in the background of the call, though it was impossible to tell whether it was related to the reason for the call in the first place. He knew better than to rush Bex, knew better than to pry answers out before she was ready. While part of it was absolutely because of who Bex was, the passion and emotion she had for so many things, it was also a skilled hard-learned through the time he had spent wrapping strangers up, doing his best to keep them whole and hale. Halim had long ago learned that you could never pry answers out of someone who wasn’t ready to give them, and with something like an illness, something that made people feel so powerless, that truth was as strong as ever. So he waited, laptop and advice ready for when they were needed.

The venom in Bex’s voice wasn’t surprising, though it did come out of seemingly nowhere. Halim bit down the defensive comment that rose to the front of his mouth with a concerning ease, swallowing it back down as she apologized. “I just have to make sure, Bex,” he explained as gently as he could. “I can’t afford a lawsuit.” It was joke, one made to lighten the situation despite the kernel of truth at the core of it. “I’m always happy to help,” he assured her. “Human lives outweight these petty sides every damn time.” The swear served as a punctuation for the statement, the iron, harsh conviction of the idea rising to the surface in a way it so rarely did.

“So, a cough, maybe a fever in a mid-fifties male, yeah,” Halim repeats back, making sure he has all the correct information. “Is there anything else you can remember? Anything at all? Even the really small details can be important, as I’m sure you know.” As Halim waited for the reply, he began to enter the information he did have into the search bar. While he had his own ideas, it was more important that he cross-reference his assumptions with the experts.

Bex managed a strained laugh as Halim talks about not affording a lawsuit. “I’m not gonna sue you,” she assured him. But at the same time, there’s a relief as he confirmed that he’ll help her. It had occurred to her, however briefly, that he might just hang up on her or tell her to go to hell. That the chasm between them might be too much for this. It had been a risk to call him at all. She’d trusted in the convictions she knew in him.

“Yeah,” Bex confirmed, nodding despite him not seeing her. “Um...” She winced and tried to think. “He seemed to be quite tired? He said it was just work, but I think it’s more than that. I offered him food, but he said he wasn’t hungry at all, that he felt like food wasn’t a good idea. Coming from him... I reckon he feels really sick, y’know? But you’d have to twist his arm to get him to admit to it. I swear, he’ll try and go to work tomorrow--never mind the fact that he’ll be useless at a construction site like this. He’s just--” She groaned. “This isn’t just a cold,” she added, a hint of defensiveness as if preempting being told to calm down. Not that she really expected that from Halim; she knew he had to know that she wouldn’t call him if she thought this was nothing.

It was obvious just how serious it was from the first word out of Bex’s mouth. Halim could count on one hand the number of times he had heard that tone come from her with still a few fingers leftover. He swallowed the joke that had risen to the tip of his tongue when he first realized who was calling, a joke that formed under the assumption she had meant to call anyone else. But no, he realized, he was the person she meant to call.

Halim thought he detected a note of panic in her voice, one that seemed to him almost stifled, though it failed ever so slightly in actually succeeding in that task. He took a deep breath as the speaker managed to pick up Bex’s swallow. This was not the time for jokes or the banter-disguised attempts to one-up the other, though both featured heavily in his conversations with Bex. It was time for the level head and the even-temperament that allowed Halim to get this far on so very little.

“Your dad,” Halim repeated, hoping to make sure he understood correctly. “Right. Bex, I have to remind you that I am not trained in this, I do not have a degree, and everything I know comes from life experience and a few community college classes.” Halim inhaled once more, the breath not only steadying his nerves but hopefully providing enough time for Bex to make sure she actually wanted Halim’s help.

“Now, as long as you know that,” he began again, “can you tell me what’s wrong? How long the illness has been around for, what sort of symptoms he’s been having, and the general age, medical history, and medications he’s on as well?”

As he spoke, Halim flipped open his laptop, waiting for it to boot up as he finished. He was good but whatever he didn’t know the internet would. As dangerous as letting something like WebMD guide him was, it was better than nothing. Halim refused to gamble with human lives and sometimes, it was best to expect the worst.

Bex glanced over her shoulder when she heard coughing coming from her dad’s bedroom. It was hopefully just a mild flu, and she was overreacting. But Bex couldn’t calm herself down that easily over this. Not many things could get to her like this. Even getting mugged the other night, she’d not bothered with anything other than going home and hoping she didn’t have too serious a concussion. But her family getting sick? She felt like a little kid again, powerless.

“I know you’re not trained in this,” she said, more of an edge to her voice than she meant or Halim deserved. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I know, but you do know more about this stuff--” if that admission didn’t show her tension, nothing would “--and I just need to know if he needs a doctor. If it’s not urgent, he won’t go.” Not to mention, they couldn’t afford it. Bex was loathe to admit that though.

vincent didn’t like to make a habit of coming down to the labyrinth. it wasn’t that he was necessarily scared of what happened down here - after all, he was more than used to being around addicts and junkies and in dark, unappealing places like this. rather, he didn’t like being reminded of what he used to be, what he probably still was, because this was exactly where he used to come to look for his next high. 

still, his job, as much as he wished it could simply involve sitting behind a desk and calling people on the phone, involved seeking out the big-and-small time dealers, and today was no exception. he’d been meaning to meet someone (the distributor was late, no surprise there), but instead of a friendly face, what he heard was someone yelling, and what sounded like a flurry of footsteps and…fighting? 

he pokes his head out from behind the concrete wall to see a man - tall, probably 5′10 or so, and a much smaller girl. the girl, he soon realizes, is none other than bex. before he can act, she pushes him and she runs - towards where he is, and vincent hides back.

“this is bad,” he mutters to himself, pacing back and forth as he contemplates. “this is very bad.” and it was very bad indeed, and this certainly wasn’t something he ever expected himself to get wrapped up in and yet – 

eventually, he steps out from the dark and gently steps towards bex, eyes wider than usual. “um,” he begins, voice low, “should i, um, call someone? get that taken care of? what the fuck even –?” 

Bex can vaguely hear the muttering from where she’s leaning haphazardly against the wall, but her head is spinning too much to really listen. Her earbuds have been ripped from her ears, dangling from her pocket where they’re still attached to her phone. The shove against the wall had knocked her head hard against the concrete, and the pain seemed to radiate out from there even now.

Despite that, when Bex heard footsteps coming, she gripped the knife tighter and straightened up as much as she could. Vincent. “Fuck, I thought you were someone else,” she muttered with a sigh, dropping the hand with the knife to her side again. “No. No, don’t call anyone. I just--” She didn’t want anyone else to know really, and she wasn’t far from home. She especially did not want to go to get medical help. A broken nose and a possible concussion was not worth the money it’d cost. “What the fuck even happened?” she finished with a hollow laugh. “Some drunk just attempted to mug me, that’s what.” She groaned, dropping the knife to bring her hands to her head. “Fuck me, my head hurts.” She sighed. “I just need to get home.”

“Fun,” he echoed hollowly. Right. Halim wasn’t beholden to anyone, least of all Sandor. There was no obligation to explain, no need to check in. Just because he hadn’t shown that kind of interest in anyone for as long as Sandor didn’t mean he hadn’t had it. “You had your own fun, I’m assuming?” He patted the back of her hand in a not-apology before stepping away.

Hands up. Eyes open. It was easy to fall half-into his head. Or was it out? He was vaguely aware of her motions, mirrored her and waited. “Was he, you know, hot?” Just shut up. You don’t actually want to know. He grimaced and telegraphed a slow hook to her shoulder. Hopefully the training would distract them both.

When she heard how awful Sandor sounded when he echoed her, Bex did feel a slight pang of regret at her lie. But really, didn’t it only prove the point she was trying to make? That Sandor cared a lot more than he pretended? Idiots, both of them. Unfortunately, idiots that Bex gave two shits about. “Eh, I had a little. Until it all turned to shit, y’know?”

The Labyrinth wasn’t a place Niko frequented, for he detested the mustiness of it. It was indeed a dark and dangerous place, as some might say, but those were factors that didn’t concern him much. Fear, out of many things, was something Niko did not have, or understand. 

This particular night, however, he was walking through the Labyrinth, after having dealt with business there. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his double lapel coat, he saunters and whistles through its darkness, coming to a halt as he comes across a shadowy silhouette of a figure leaning against the wall. From the outline, he could tell the figure was holding some sort of weapon, a knife perhaps, but it wasn’t clear. 

A look of delight appears on his face, before he continues his trek, getting closer to the figure with every step he takes. Soon, the features of the shadow became more apparent and he was even more delighted to realize it was a familiar face. “Ah,” he comes to a halt, planting his feet in front of her, “Rebecca, was it?” His eyes scan her from her head to toe and they’re drawn to the blood and the knife in her hand. “Rough night, I see,” his voice is jaunty in his usual way, hands still shoved deep into his pockets. 

He smacks his lips slightly, before retrieving a handkerchief to pass on to her. “And no, I don’t want it back, so keep it. Maybe pass it on to Zeus, if you can, yes?” 

Rebecca stares up at the figure approaching her, groaning slightly when she recognises the face. An Elysian was not exactly who she wanted to see right now. Especially this Elysian. Something about him didn’t sit right with Bex, though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. “Niko,” she acknowledged as he stopped in front of her.

She huffed a dry laugh, immediately wincing as the pain in her nose and head spiked. “No shit,” she replied. The offered handkerchief feels like a trap, but she takes it anyway. Blood was running into her mouth and down her chin. “Thanks.” And there was the condition; pass it to Zeus. Bex rolled her eyes. “Sure, whatever.” She held the handkerchief to her nose, taking a sharp breath as she touched it. Tender was more than an understatement. “I don’t suppose you have any ice too?” She felt like she should have some other snarky comment to go along with that, but it evaded her.

trigger warning: violence, blood, knives, alcohol

Bex had never been particularly tall, even as a child. Then everyone else hit growth spurts and she seemed to stay small.  She’d learnt the hard way that people could see her as an easy target. She rarely went on her job without a weapon. After today, she’d probably begin carrying something at all times. 

Her next mistake was walking alone with music playing, unable to hear someone else around. Too comfortable, having followed this route more times than she could count, she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. Not until a hand grabbed her, shoving her body against a wall and a knife near her face. Bex’s first thought was that this was gang-related, but the man’s aggressive demand for her money told her otherwise. She could smell alcohol on his breath, but that wouldn’t make his knife less deadly if he stabbed her.

Bex did the first sensible thing she could think of: kneed him hard in the groin. He doubled over and she grabbed for the knife. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly enough that she was only able to get him to drop it before she caught a sharp elbow in the stomach and a fist to the face. Bex grunted in pain, and stumbled back. Seeing red now, she launched a swift kick at the man’s abdomen and followed it up with a hard punch the way Sandor taught her. He swung wildly, but Bex’s small stature made her quick and training with Sandor made her good at fighting through pain. She sidestepped him, using his momentum to help him crash into the wall. “Bastard!”

She wasn’t wrong, the wraps were good. Bex was a smart one, he’d discovered early on- quick as a whip and sometimes just as cutting. These trainings, practices, whatever they ended up being called, they were good for him too- kept him on his toes in more ways than one. Of course, most of his targets didn’t usually need to like him when he was done getting information (or money). He was still working on that part with her.

“That’s good,” he murmured as he tweaked the layers of cloth around her wrists. Halim never liked being called doctor, so of course Bex did it all time- Sandor was glad to see the habit had stuck around. And he never got into trouble without Sandor being the one leading the way-

His eyes shot to her face as emotions roiled through him. Fear, shock, doubt, anger. His mind raced through their conversation that night before he remembered that Halim probably wouldn’t have told him about any new… affections. Not anymore- though he realized he was pretty sure Halim never had. Sandor’s grip tightened on her wrist unconsciously as he growled, “Which guy? What do you mean not too much trouble except?”

When Bex had asked Sandor to train her, she’d had a pretty good idea of what she was getting into. Sure enough, there was a lot of getting knocked on her ass or twisted into painful locks. Bruises and aches that took time to heal. But she persisted. She got back up and told him to go again. It was always hard to deter her when she had a stubborn determination. And she knew that Sandor was good, not to mention bigger and stronger than her. So as much as she snarked, she respected him.

But she also saw him and Halim. Idiots. The flashes of emotion on Sandor’s face as his eyes shot to hers were a dead giveaway, even if he hadn’t tightened his hold on her wrist. “I didn’t know him,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing too bad, by my guess. You could only get so much privacy there. Probably just a bit of fun. Who knows?”