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“What do you want?” Stevie cracks the door just enough to see that Alexis Rose is standing on the other side. Impeccable hair, impeccable wardrobe, impeccable cover-up job of the bruise on her jaw; nobody but Stevie would even clock it, probably.
“Nice work,” Stevie adds before Alexis answers the first question. “Moira would be proud.”
Alexis, for her part, skates right over Stevie’s acerbic greeting.
“Hi, have a minute?” Alexis asks.
“Does it matter?” Stevie returns, throwing the door wider after a split second of consideration. She retreats down the hall without a backward glance. Alexis doesn’t need an escort.
“What do you want, Lex?” she repeats, ignoring the disapproving look she thinks Alexis might be wearing while she pours herself two-fingers of whiskey and drops into her desk chair. “I’m busy.”
She’s not, actually. She has two open cases, but neither is difficult to parse —cheating on both counts— she was planning on closing them tomorrow.
“I need your help,” Alexis tells her.
“We talked about this. I’m not here to be your fucking powered Mr. Miyagi,” Stevie replies, clipped. She might still be a little angry, actually. But only because Alexis put herself in danger, whether she believes it or not.
“Oh my god, Stevie!” Alexis huffs, the carefully curated veneer cracking, exposing the woman that Stevie knows. “I found something and I thought you might be able to get me in touch with your powered friends so they could help.”
Stevie stops herself from grinding her teeth, but only just. “I don’t have powered friends. I’m incapable of liking people. Present company excluded.”
“Ruth Clancy,” Alexis throws at her.
Ruth Clancy is gorgeous, bulletproof, and as strong as Stevie. Also, equally as capable as Alexis is when dealing with Stevie’s bullshit.
“That’s one person.”
“And that devil person,” Alexis adds, with that determined tilt to her jaw that means she will not let Stevie win this ridiculous debate.
Stevie downs her drink and considers pouring another.
“Daredevil is not a friend,” Stevie replies adamantly. “Working together once doesn’t make us friends.” Stevie wasn’t exactly having a drink with Mutt at the bar every other week or anything like that.
Alexis scrunched her face in the way that Stevie knew meant she was frustrated with Stevie’s Stevieness.
“People could die,” Alexis says. “Do you really want that?”
“Have they yet?”
“No. But does that matter?”
“People die every day, Lex.”
“Stevie.” Alexis levels a look at her, crossing her arms determinedly.
“Alexis,” she responds before going for another drink. Years have proven that the set of Alexis’s jaw and her posture means she’s not going to be able to dismiss her that easily. The situation will end with Stevie caving or a spectacular firework of words between them.
“Fine.” Stevie sighs after weighing her options. “What is it?” She drops back into her chair —carefully because of her drink— then kicks her boots back up onto the corner of the desk.
“People are going missing,” Alexis tells her and Stevie opens her mouth to cut her off, but Alexis raises her hand before she gets a word out. “I know people go missing every day. You don’t have to explain that to me. But this is different. The disappearances have all happened in the same six blocks and only one person has shown back up.”
“Let me guess, couldn’t remember what happened when they came back?” Stevie barely contains her eye roll when Alexis confirms that with an annoyed nod. “It’s probably just drug-running or something equally as fucking stupid, and they’ll all show back up, mysteriously incapable of remembering anything because they’ve been paid off.”
Alexis flips her hair. It’s a frustrated gesture; Stevie used to see it all the time when they were younger. But the thing is, Stevie doesn’t think she’s wrong. People get paid to forget shit; they get bought off. It’s general practice.
Dropping her boots to the floor, Stevie leans her elbows on the desk and levels Alexis with a severe look.
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to find something to focus on because you lost your show and you don’t know what to do with yourself?” Stevie’s not known for her introspection, but Alexis’ reason to look into this is paper-thin, at best.
“Oh my god, Stevie! I don’t care about my show! Like, whatever, that is water under the bridge,” Alexis argues. “I’m not going to stop looking just because you won’t give me any of your contacts or help me either.”
Stevie takes a long drink. “You didn’t ask for my help.”
“It was implied!”
“Lex, what happens if you stumble yourself into mob shit? Or worse, what if you land yourself in Kingpin territory?”
“He’s in prison.”
“Like that means shit,” Stevie scoffs. “You aren’t really that naive.”
“Fine, ok! I need your help,” Alexis declares, throwing her hands up. Stevie thins her mouth to avoid laughing at eliciting another of Lex’s greatest hits of frustrated gestures.
She can’t wait to see if she’ll get the walk-off next.
“Come back tomorrow morning with whatever you consider evidence,” Stevie relents after deciding she doesn’t need to push Alexis to her breaking point just for her amusement. It doesn’t have to mean she’ll help exactly, but maybe if she looks it over, she can keep Alexis from getting herself hurt.
Stevie smothers a laugh at the self-satisfied little noise Alexis makes. It reminds her that beneath all the recent baggage they’ve both picked up, they’re still the same people.
“I’ll bring coffee!” Alexis tells her, finger waving as she heads back towards the door. Stevie bites back the retort to make it an Irish coffee.
--------------
Sheaves of papers are spread across Stevie’s desk and the coffee table in front of the dilapidated couch, making the space look more disorganized than it usually is. Alexis had more research than she anticipated.
There’s no smoking gun, but there is something to what Alexis was saying about disappearances.
Stevie wishes there had been nothing, then she could have dismissed it and not had to worry about whatever Lex might decide to do with what she’s found.
But she can’t.
There’s not an easily discernible pattern between the people who disappeared. No ties to New York City crime that she can tell, but there’s enough in the details for her to figure out it's not a coincidence either. The one who returned was just a college kid, but he doesn’t have that many connections—kind of a loaner.
She knows the type.
But the disappearance and reappearance doesn’t make sense. He showed up in the same place he disappeared from, or at least the general area.
Stevie knows that Lex is thinking about the kid. She can see the wheels turning behind Lex’s eyes and knows that she’ll go sleuthing with or without her.
“Drunken spring break?” Stevie throws out, a sarcastic tilt to her mouth as she downs the last of her coffee.
“Stevie.” Alexis picks up her coffee, leveling an exasperated look. “Don’t be stupid.”
Stevie shrugs in response and asks, “Can I keep you from talking to him?”
“Mmm, nope. The police report has holes,” Alexis replies, and Stevie hates that answer. “Something is missing. You can’t tell me you don’t see it. They aren’t even hiding that fact all that well. Honestly.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Stevie asks, considering the liquor on the shelf, but it’s 10 am; Alexis would give her that look if she pulled it down.
“Not if you’re going to glare and make him uncomfortable,” Alexis replies. “Having you all scowly is counterproductive to getting answers.”
Stevie shrugs. “Let me know how it goes, then,” she tells Alexis and pulls her phone out to take photos of the papers spread everywhere for reference later. “I’ll see if I can find anything else out.”
Her cases will keep a few more days.
“Mmm, okay. Same time tomorrow?” Alexis asks.
“Fuck no.” Alexis had shown up at 8 am, which was too fucking early. “Make it 9:30.”
Alexis just laughs at her and swishes out the door after she’s gathered all her documents back into her bag.
“Bring egg sandwiches too!” Stevie yells down the hall, getting Mrs. Lee from three doors down to open her door and glare at them.
--------------
The kid didn’t have anything to add to the report. The holes were just the holes in his memory and nothing else. Stevie can tell that Alexis is annoyed about that but still treats those pieces of missing info like a clue.
Alexis did come out of the conversation with the name of a new nightclub he had been at the night before he disappeared. He appeared again on the cross streets just outside.
It’s too soon to say whether or not it’s the piece that ties all the missing persons together, but it’s the first new thing, so worth looking into at the very least.
“You’re going to drag me there, aren’t you?” Stevie asks, resigned to her fate, brushing crumbs off her top.
“I could go alone.” Stevie’s smart enough to know there’s more to that, despite the way Alexis paused. “Or you could give me Ruth’s number and I could take her. It doesn’t have to be you.” Alexis finishes thoughtfully, sipping her coffee and poorly hiding a quirk to her mouth. “Or you could just admit that you’re interested and want to come with me.”
Sometimes it’s really a pain in the ass that Alexis knows her so well.
Stevie snorts, then sighs. “I’m not wearing a dress,” she tells Alexis instead of admitting anything else.
Alexis smiles. “Not even that black one that makes your ass look great?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “I love that one.”
Stevie chews on the inside of her cheek and offers Alexis her middle finger. Alexis laughs.
“I have a thing tonight but maybe tomorrow?” Alexis continues, not missing a beat.
“You have a thing?” Stevie raises her eyebrows. “What? A child star reunion?” She knows Alexis has a life, but she also seemed pretty set on her little disappearing people passion project.
“Oh my god, no!” Alexis responds, leaning forward to punch Stevie’s shoulder. Stevie grunts with the contact; Lex is still working on pulling her punches apparently. “It’s a charity banquet. I’ve had it on my calendar for months. So I can’t like back out the day of.”
Stevie gives her a look because she has definitely done that in the past.
“Ok, fine! I have a really amazing dress for the event,” Alexis admits with a slight huff. “And it’s good publicity.” She straightens the lapels on her denim jacket, tipping her chin up at Stevie defiantly.
Stevie doesn’t actually care if they go tonight or tomorrow. But she likes watching Alexis defend her decisions like she thinks Stevie thinks she’s being shallow. Stevie does think she’s being shallow, but it also feels achingly familiar in a way that none of their conversations have lately. Like something they used to do.
“Need a date?” Stevie asks deadpan.
“No, thank you.”
Having had her little bit of fun, Stevie lets it drop. “So, tomorrow then? Any kind of criteria for getting in?”
“That black dress,” Alexis teases.
“Fuck you,” Stevie spits, but there’s no bite.
--------------
Stevie wears the dress, but she accessorizes with her jacket and boots. Alexis just gives her a once over —Stevie imagines the lingering look, right?— and links her arm through Stevie’s as they join the queue outside.
“I thought you’d be late,” Alexis says, fixing her lipstick in the window's reflection to her left.
“You thought I wouldn’t show at all,” Stevie corrects because she knows Alexis doesn’t always trust her word when clubs are involved —Lex texted her at least twelve times— and knows that Lex wouldn’t have judged her that hard if she had bailed either.
“Well, yes,” Alexis admits. “But you’re here, and you look great!”
Stevie snorts.
The bouncer lets them in without any trouble, so either Alexis has some pull, or the place is not that elite. Probably the former, if Stevie’s being honest, even if it’s not in the part of the city that caters to celebrity.
Inside is loud and dimly lit, with a crush of bodies and a smell that reminds Stevie of too much body spray combined with insufficient ventilation. Thank god she doesn’t have super smell.
“I’m getting a drink,” she announces and muscles towards the bar, waving her arm to get the bartender's attention as Alexis slides up next to her. “You want anything?” she asks.
Alexis shakes her head no, turning to watch the crowd.
“Suit yourself.”
Stevie orders a whiskey and downs it in two swallows. She winces a little at the taste. It’s cheaper even than the shit that she usually gets her hands on.
“We should dance,” Alexis suggests, earning a derisive snort from Stevie.
“Why?”
“Because it will be suspicious if we just stay at the bar.”
“No, it won’t. You can dance if you want.”
Alexis narrows her eyes at Stevie in a standoff. Stevie honestly doesn’t know what her angle is.
“No.”
“Stevie.”
“No.”
Stevie’s not surprised when Alexis actually pouts.
“Did you come here to dance or did you come to find some shit out?” Stevie’s trying to redirect to why they’re in the club at all.
“I can multitask.”
“Then multitask. I can watch from the bar.”
Alexis looks like she wants to say something else, thinks better of it, then stomps off towards the dance floor.
The thing is that Stevie can’t see anything from a dance floor. They’re crowded and the sightlines are shit. From the bar she can watch the room.
It just proves that Alexis doesn’t really know what she’s doing.
Stevie’s been watching her for the better part of half an hour, though, and even if she is clueless about the best places to observe from, she looks like she has some kind of plan. Probably a stupid plan, but still, a plan.
Stevie has a plan also. There’s a lot of activity around what passes for the VIP area and anything that is going on is probably happening there. Alexis keeps moving closer to the entrance also, so Stevie has a guess what her plans might involve.
Or at least she thought she did until Alexis cuts a right and slips down a hallway instead.
Stevie catches up to her when she’s pulling a lockpick from somewhere —literally where? There’s nowhere to hide it in that dress— and using it to open what Stevie can only assume is the office.
“Breaking and entering wasn’t part of the agreement!” she hisses, sliding in behind Alexis.
“There was nothing out there,” Alexis replies, opening drawers.
“It doesn’t appear on a fucking platter, Lex.” Stevie, despite her better judgment, joins Alexis in her search. By that point, Alexis has moved on to trying passwords on the desktop. “What happens if we’re caught?”
“We won’t get caught.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t you remember anything I told you about the Saudi prince thing?”
“I tried to forget that whole story.”
Alexis huffs.
“We won’t get caught,” she repeats with an edge.
Stevie scowls at the stack of files she was sifting through but doesn’t reply.
Minutes go by in silence until Alexis lets out a quiet but excited noise and gestures Stevie over.
“I got in!” she says pointing towards the screen. “They are probably the dumbest criminals,” she adds and points at a folder she just opened on the desktop. There’s a file for each missing person and Stevie’s about to ask what they’re going to do when Alexis procures a thumb drive —seriously, from where?— and starts saving the files.
“They could be encrypted somehow,” Stevie feels compelled to point out. It’s not her first rodeo with digital files, after all.
“They’re not. I checked.” Alexis pulls the drive from the tower and hides it back where it had come from. “We should get out of here.” Stevie watches her lock the screen again and wipe down the surfaces before she pulls Stevie towards the door.
They get almost all the way down the hall before they’re met with what is obviously some kind of security. Stevie’s readying to throw a punch when Alexis pulls her in instead and kisses her.
Stevie doesn’t respond for several seconds, not until Alexis makes a frustrated noise in her throat. Making Stevie push down all the things it threatens to dredge up and just play along until the security clears his throat.
“You’re not supposed to be down here,” he tells them in a tone obviously meant to be menacing. Stevie could knock him on his ass if she wanted to, so it barely makes a dent.
“Oh my god, we’re so sorry!” Alexis tells him after breaking the kiss but not giving Stevie enough space to really breathe. “We were just, you know, trying to find somewhere private.” She gives him her winningest Alexis Rose smile.
“Just move along,” he replies with a nod back towards the drone of the music and the crush of the bar.
“Mmm, okay. Happily.” Alexis grips Stevie’s elbow and leads the both of them the rest of the way to the main room. Once they’re out of sight Stevie breaks her hold.
“I need a drink,” she mutters and peels off towards the exit.
“The bar is the other way,” Alexis points out obviously, on her heels.
“I know.” Stevie dodges what is obviously a very drunk bachelorette party on her way out to the street. “Whiskey’s free at my place.” She gets to the curb and hails a cab because she’s not going to walk all the way back.
“There could be more to find,” Alexis says, glancing one way down the street and then the other. “What if we didn’t find everything.”
“We found enough,” Stevie tells her. “There wasn’t going to be anything else in there.” The files were incriminating enough for her to be confident about that. “You can come home with me or we can meet tomorrow. Your choice.”
Alexis climbs into the cab with Stevie.
--------------
After eight hours of sleep and a handful of additional Google searches they find out the club is owned by the McClaren's; a low-level Irish mob family.
The files give them more about what’s going on. It’s not mob related, despite the connection. It’s just one of the McClaren’s stretching his legs with some newfound mind-control shit that sets Stevie’s teeth on edge. They’re keeping everyone at a warehouse in Red Hook. Not doing anything with them, just holding them hostage for no reason at all until he gets bored or something.
There are no clues why the kid was let go.
“We give this to the cops,” Stevie says adamantly. “And I have a contact at one of the papers.” Twyla Sands is a journalist who Stevie is sure can make a story of this. Passing the information along isn’t going to endear Stevie to Mutt, but they were on shaky ground to begin with, it’s not going to matter.
“We’re not going to, you know, rescue them ourselves?” Alexis asks. Stevie can’t tell if she wants the fight that would likely happen or if she just really wants to play the hero.
“I’ve been mind-controlled before, Lex, I’m not looking for a repeat.” Stevie rubs at her temples. “There’s a detective I trust. He's a good guy.” She can tell by the stiff way Alexis is sitting she doesn’t like the idea, but after a few minutes of silence she relents.
“Fine,” Alexis says. “But he has to give us an update when they’re in custody.”
“I can ask.”
“No. That’s the agreement.”
“Fine.” Stevie scowls. “You want anything else?”
Alexis shakes her head no.
“I’ll call you when it’s done,” Stevie tells her. It’s not a dismissal, but there isn’t anything else to do with the case.
Alexis reads it for what it actually is and gets up from the couch. She’s still wearing the dress from the night before and her makeup is smudged from sleep, but fuck, it’s not a bad look on her.
It’s not a great rabbit trail to follow either, so Stevie just mentally shakes it off.
“It’s better this way, Lex,” Stevie tells her. “Neither of us ended up with anything broken or bruised.” Although, Stevie is smart enough to know that Alexis might still go looking for something else.
“Mmm, I know,” Alexis replies, shouldering her bag. “Thanks for the help, Stevie.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Stevie refuses to examine how that makes her feel.
Alexis leaves without more conversation.
--------------
Elijah McClaren gets arrested and carted off to The Raft without a lot of fanfare. His victims all get returned to their lives with more journalistic coverage than they could have hoped for if Twyla Sands hadn’t gotten involved.
Mutt leaves Stevie a few frustrated voice messages she doesn’t return.
Stevie only calls Alexis once the police report is complete and tells her she has a copy of it if Alexis wants to read it.
Alexis does. She asks —more like tells, actually— Stevie to meet at the bar around the corner.
Stevie clocks a new bruise on Alexis’s collarbone when she sees her but only says, “Nice work.” It’s an echo of how the case began. She doesn’t ask Alexis how she got it. Some of those bridges just haven’t been repaired yet.
“I ordered you a drink,” Alexis tells her once Stevie takes a seat, ignoring the sarcasm.
“Thanks,” she replies and sets the sealed envelope with the report on the corner of the bar within Alexis’s reach. “You’ll have to tell me how you got the password to that desktop someday,” she adds.
“Mmm,” Alexis hums. “Maybe over the next drink.” She slides her arm around Stevie’s waist and leans her head on her shoulder. “And you can give me the name of the detective that you know.”
Stevie sighs, but she smiles too. “It’s in the file, Lex.”
It’s not an olive branch and it doesn’t really repair shit, but it feels like taking a step closer to getting somewhere better and Stevie will take that.
She’s never been able to lie to herself about whether she wants Alexis back in her life. There’s never been a point.
“Maybe I should’ve bargained for a meeting with Daredevil instead,” Alexis muses, absently tapping her fingers against Stevie’s waist.
“The guys a dick. Believe me, you’re better off not knowing him.”
Alexis only laughs softly in response and somehow Stevie can tell it’s not the end to their conversation.