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In his nightmares, he sees her dying. It seemed a particularly cruel twist of fate, that he should find himself getting attached to her of all people, but then again, fate had never been particularly kind to Kieran White. The first time it happened, only a few days after the factory explosion, he woke in a cold sweat as his mind struggled to catch up to reality. That day, he’d gone to see her, needing to verify with his own eyes that she hadn’t bled out back in that horrible factory. He hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to admit how much he’d worried about her, but he knew he couldn’t lie, so he’d danced around the subject. He knew it aroused her suspicion—she was far too clever for him to truly deceive—but he knew just as surely that admitting the truth of his nightmares was a subject he wasn’t ready to broach yet. Maybe not ever.
At first, the nightmares were solely centered on the reality that she very nearly had died. He was plagued by dreams where she’s not so fortunate and bleeds out from the bullet she took in the arm, or dreams where he’s the one to wake first from the explosion, not her. Dreams where he crawls over to her, begs her to get up, but she doesn’t. As haunting as the nightmares were, he thought that at least they would fade over time, as they both returned to whatever ‘normal’ was for an assassin and a police officer who moonlighted as a pair of vigilantes.
But as time went on, he found that rather than disappear, the nightmares… evolved. He found himself trapped in vivid nightmares where he was the one killing her. Dreams where he was trapped in his own mind, watching in horror as he strangled her with his own bare hands, watching as the light slowly left her captivating eyes. Sometimes he’s given the order, direct from the Leader, to kill her and he follows it like the good little assassin they’ve made him be. Those were the dreams left him the most shaken, dreams where he woke terrified of himself and what he was capable of.
Even in his waking hours, he found himself preoccupied by thoughts of her and it left him feeling unsure and off-balance. He was used to being alone, to only relying on himself and only caring about himself. It was one thing to have her as a business partner, but only a few months after they met as enemies, he found that she was always on his mind, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
Their initial business partnership had slowly morphed into something almost like friendship, until that awful night in his cave when he’d lost control and hurt her. Somehow, she had slowly forgiven him, but Kieran knew that what had happened in the factory had changed the parameters of their relationship just as surely as they had changed after he broke into the Tower. But what he didn’t know was how, precisely, the relationship had changed, and that was what bothered him.
It wasn’t just that she had nearly died—though he couldn’t deny that that was a large part of it. It was strange, really—their work as Lune put them both in an incredible amount of danger and yet, up until he saw her get shot, he’d somehow always thought of her as invulnerable. It was a foolish, reckless mentality, one he never should have had in the first place, but now it was gone, and he was left shaken by his keen awareness of her mortality. People died all the time. Death was an old, familiar friend at this point and the one thing he knew for certain was that eventually, death came for all. So why did thinking about her mortality disturb him so greatly?
It had been almost 2 weeks since the factory explosion, and neither had spoken much about what had happened—not about how she’d nearly bled out in his apartment, not about the words they’d spoken to each other when they thought they were going to die, and certainly not about how she’d reacted when they learned about the bomb.
If he was haunted by images of her dying when he slept, then it was the wild panic he saw in her eyes that haunted him when he was awake. The way her eyes went wide with fear, the way her hands shook. The way he called to her, but it was like she couldn’t hear him, even though she was right in front of him. The way she seemed lost in her mind, and the way she harmed herself to snap herself out of it.
Some days, he wasn’t sure which haunted him more—seeing her take a bullet to the arm or seeing her aggravate the injury and cause herself pain just to pull herself out of what was clearly a trauma-induced flashback.
As much as he’d wanted to ask her about it, he knew it was none of his business. Part of their arrangement from the start had been to stay out of each other’s private lives. What troubled her was no concern of his—or so he tried to tell himself, at least. And for the most part, he succeeded. He got on with his life, she got on with hers, and the only topics they discussed involved their hunt to take down the Leader.
And Kieran liked to think that he could have kept it up, could have eventually banished his haunting nightmares and tucked away his growing attachment to one Lauren Sinclair until it was locked away in his mind with all the other things he didn’t want to think about. But as it turned out, he wasn’t quite as good at turning off his emotion as he thought.
Despite Lune’s apparent death, Kieran and Lauren were still just as committed as ever to their mission, which meant that on a perfectly ordinary Thursday evening—only days after Lauren had returned to work—the two vigilantes found themselves outside a restaurant on the south side of the 10th precinct. Inside, various members of the Phantom Scythe had gathered to discuss their next plans. Lauren was crouched in the shadows on the second-story balcony, while Kieran had climbed up onto the roof for a better view of the whole building and grounds.
He stole a quick glance down at Lauren, his brow furrowing in concern. It hadn’t escaped his notice how she’d clearly favored her good arm when they’d climbed up here, or the brief flash of pain on her face as she’d used both arms to pull herself over the balcony railing. It was clearly far too soon for her to be back to work, but he knew trying to tell her that wouldn’t exactly go over well. At least back at the precinct, Will was still limiting both the number and length of patrols she went on, though he knew Lauren was desperate to get back to her normal routine.
Still, as he listened to the muffled conversation, he couldn’t quite stop his mind from returning to the image of Lauren, bruised and bloodied and barely conscious as they sat side-by-side on the floor of his apartment. Or the image of Lauren collapsing from blood loss, and the brief, terrifying moment when he thought he’d lost her. His own body still throbbed and ached from both the beating and the injuries sustained in the explosion, but he didn’t come quite as close to death as she did. That, and he’d had plenty of experience with working through pain—the Phantom Scythe didn’t exactly give sick leave, and especially not when they beat you up for failing to meet expectations. Lauren didn’t have that particular luxury of a higher pain tolerance born out of necessity, if you could call it that.
Maybe it was the haunting memory of watching Lauren nearly die right in front of him, or maybe it was his frustration that the meeting they were eavesdropping on hadn’t revealed anything particularly interesting yet, but whatever the reason, his mind was distracted enough that he didn’t notice any movement inside the restaurant until the doors to the balcony flung open.
A masked figure bolted out the door, body-slamming into Lauren as they scampered down the edge of the balcony. Kieran was too far away to reach her and could only watch, with eyes wide in horror and a cry half-stuck in his throat, as Lauren toppled over the edge of the railing, her fingers finding brief purchase against the wooden slats, but unable to stop her fall. She hit the ground with a solid thud and the conversation inside the restaurant stilled as the gathered members of the Phantom Scythe wondered what the noise was.
Swearing, Kieran descended from the roof as fast as he could, doing his best to keep his hands from shaking. What was it about her that made him so worried? He was an assassin. He and death were well acquainted, and yet the sight of Lauren falling from a balcony was all it took for him to lose his composure. All it took to reduce him to shaking hands and a heartbeat that pounded in his ears, drowning out all other noise. He needed to make sure she was okay and then they needed to get out of here, fast.
The fact that the masked figure hadn’t tried to kill either Kieran or Lauren and had seemed to be in a great hurry made Kieran believe that it was some other, third party, and not a Phantom Scythe member. Which was good news in some ways, as it meant that their cover wasn’t blown, but bad news because it meant the actual Phantom Scythe members would start looking for them very soon.
To Kieran’s relief, by the time he got down from the roof and over to where Lauren had fallen, she was already pulling herself to her feet. Typical, Kieran thought to himself with a slight smirk. He’d seen her shrug off a bullet wound, after all—why should a fall from a second-story balcony be any different? And yet, beneath his amusement, and something else that felt a little like affection, his concern still lurked. She was still recovering from her injuries and there was only so much the human body could take—he of all people should know that.
“Are you okay?” he asked, offering her a helping hand which she—unsurprisingly—ignored.
“I’m fine,” she said, dusting off her pants. A bit of a hopeless endeavor, Kieran thought, as they were covered in grass stains and mud. “Did you see who that was? We have to follow them!”
Kieran shook his head. “I’m sure they’re already long gone. We need to get out of here before the Phantom Scythe investigates what that noise was. And we need to get you medical attention.”
“I’m fine,” Lauren said again. “I was lucky, I managed to catch myself on the railing before I lost my grip. It helped slow down my momentum.”
I’m fine. I was lucky. She’d said those same words back in the factory, after she’d been shot, and it had led to her nearly bleeding to death. He was starting to think that Lauren Sinclair had a very warped definition of ‘fine.’ She was on her feet, but a cut on her face was bleeding, she was carrying most of her weight on one foot, and she was gripping her injured arm. The pain was clearly written in the sharp angles of her face. If that was her idea of ‘fine,’ he hated to think what it would take for her to admit that she wasn’t.
Kieran rocked back on his heels and flashed her one of those smirks that came so easily to him. “Darling, I don’t need your ability to know that you’re lying. My apartment isn’t far from here. Unless you’d rather go back to your place and explain this to your uncle…?”
Lauren sighed. “Fine. Let’s get out of here before they start looking for us.”
Kieran slung her arm over his shoulders, helping support her weight as they scurried off, just as the doors to the restaurant opened and several Phantoms started to investigate the noise.
They walked back to Kieran’s apartment in silence, neither speaking about what had happened. It was clear that Lauren was frustrated, but about what, Kieran wasn’t sure. Getting injured? Accepting his help? Or maybe just that they’d gone to so much effort to eavesdrop on the Phantom Scythe meeting, but it hadn’t revealed anything particularly useful.
“Home sweet home,” Kieran murmured as he opened the door to his apartment and helped Lauren to a chair. The last time she’d been here had been right after the explosion, when he’d watched her collapse in front of him. When he’d thought for a brief, heart-stopping moment, that he’d just witnessed her die. The memory of it haunted him, but it went beyond just the sheer terror at the idea of losing her—even though that itself was a feeling he didn’t want to look at too closely.
Something in their relationship had shifted, back there in the factory. Even now, he could still feel the ghost of her in his arms, the way her head felt tucked under his chin. The way he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, beating in time with his. It had been strangely, terrifyingly, wonderfully intimate and he didn’t know what to make of it. Any of it. Not the panic he felt at seeing her injured—at seeing her nearly die—not the way she thanked him for helping her or told him she was glad she met him, and certainly not the embrace they’d shared.
“Something on your mind?” Lauren asked and Kieran realized he’d just been standing there.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Let me see your arm.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at the lie, but she let him take her injured arm and assess the damage. At least the wound wasn’t bleeding again, but her arm was clearly causing her pain and the swelling at her shoulder was concerning.
“I think your shoulder’s dislocated,” Kieran said, frowning. “You should be more careful.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind next time someone decides to toss me off a balcony,” Lauren said with a roll of her eyes, and Kieran couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Hold still, I’ll reset it.” Kieran paused. “This might hurt.”
Lauren nodded, giving him the go ahead, and he watched her face as he popped her shoulder back into place. She let out a small hiss of pain, but nothing else and Kieran couldn’t decide if he was impressed or concerned. Maybe both. Her resilience was admirable to be sure, but what was the eventual cost for bottling everything up? For pretending she was fine when she wasn’t? What would it take for her to admit that maybe she couldn’t do it all on her own?
He realized he was still holding her arm, even though he didn’t need to, and yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. As it had been so often lately, his mind wandered back to what had happened in the factory. Maybe it was because he could feel, through the thin layer of her shirt, the still-healing bullet wound. Or maybe it was just because he wanted an answer to the questions that haunted him when he thought of how terrified she’d been. How she’d harmed herself in that moment of terror.
I’ve been here before and it made me panic. That was what she’d said to him after she’d slammed her own gun into the wound on her arm. She’d taken a bullet, which she’d tried to shrug off, and then she’d aggravated the injury. What had been so terrible that it had caused her to self-harm? He knew he had no right to ask. They had formed their partnership on the agreement that they don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives. And yet, so much had changed since that initial deal.
“Lauren…” he started to say. “Back in the factory, when we learned about the bomb… what happened? I’ve never seen you panic like that.”
Lauren jerked slightly and he instinctively released her arm as she got to her feet and turned away from him.
“It was nothing,” she said quickly, walking a few paces away from him. “Anyways. Thank you, for helping me with my shoulder, but I should really get back before my uncle starts to worry.”
“Lauren—” he cut himself off even as he reached out a hand towards her. What could he say? That he understood what it was like to have demons preying on your mind? That what had happened in the factory had irrevocably changed his image of her? He was no stranger to violence, self-inflicted or otherwise, but seeing it from Lauren was what had left him so shaken. He never expected that from her.
Lauren Sinclar was many things—she was a spitfire; she was a hothead with a compassionate heart. She was the tough, unshakeable officer that had chased him down that first night they met. She was the stubborn, clever detective whose analytical brilliance went far beyond her ability to detect lies. She was the cunning, resourceful other half of Lune who had helped him take down numerous Phantoms. But back there, in that horrible moment when they’d learned about the bomb, he’d seen a new side to her.
A much more vulnerable side. A side of her that hinted at tortured, traumatized depths that she hid eerily well, and it scared him. That in and of itself was terrifying—he was the Purple Hyacinth; he didn’t fear anything. People feared him. And yet, his recurring nightmares about her dying said otherwise.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he said after a long moment. “I was just… concerned. You easily could have died when you were shot, but you shrugged it off. I thought maybe you were invincible. But then, seeing you hurt yourself…” he broke off with a shudder.
Lauren turned back to face him, one eyebrow raised and a hint of a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You were concerned? What happened to being able to strangle me with your bare hands without shedding a tear?”
Her tone was teasing, but Kieran winced anyways at the sharp stab of guilt. She’d forgiven him for it, but he knew he’d hurt her, far deeper than whatever superficial bruises he’d left on her neck. It was something he couldn’t forgive himself for. In that moment, he had been every bit the monster he tried so hard not to be.
“Well,” Kieran said, swallowing as he took a tentative step towards her. “I was wrong.”
Lauren laughed slightly, little more than a small puff of air as she regarded him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. For a long moment, she was silent, and he thought maybe that was it. That, despite what had happened between them in the factory, she wasn’t comfortable opening up to him and he would have to accept it. And then, she spoke.
“I was there,” she said finally, looking down. “The day of the Allendale Train Station Tragedy. I was helping my friend and his father decorate for the inauguration. It was pure chance that I wasn’t caught in the explosion—damnit, I should have been! My friend… we left the station. We were going to hurry back together, but I twisted my ankle. I sent him back for help. I sent him to his death, and he would still be alive if it weren’t for me. I could have saved them all—I should have saved them all. Why am I the only one left?”
The words came out in a choked-out sob, her shoulders shaking and her knees buckling, and Kieran closed the remaining gap between them as he placed a hand on her shoulder, doing his best to still her shaking.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You had no way of knowing what would happen.”
“But I did,” she spat out, shaking her head. “I should have. I heard the lies. I knew something was wrong. Something didn’t add up. I should have alerted the authorities, I should have told someone, I should have done something; but I ignored it all and ran away like a fucking coward and they’re all dead because of me. He’s dead. What use is this gift I have if I can’t do what others cannot? What use am I if I can’t save them all?”
Her voice broke as she looked up at him then, tears clinging to the lashes of those golden eyes that had captivated him since the moment he first saw them, and something in him broke as well. She was so much more than her ability to detect lies, so much more than what she could offer others, and it hurt to see her so wrapped up in guilt and self-loathing. She deserved better than that. Without thinking, he folded her into a hug, pulling her against his chest as he smoothed down her hair and tucked her head under his chin.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her back and holding her tight as her shoulders shook with sobs. “But none of what happened was your fault. You were a child. You’ve said yourself that hearing a lie doesn’t mean you know what the truth is. No one could have expected a tragedy like Allendale.”
Lauren didn’t say anything, but she nodded slightly against his chest. He held her for a while longer, until the tears slowly subsided. It could have been minutes, hours, days—time ceased to exist in those moments when he held her, gently stroking her crimson hair and murmuring soothing words. Eventually, she pulled back, wiping away her tears.
“In the weeks and months following the explosion, I had a lot of flashbacks,” she said, glancing back down at her feet and avoiding his eyes. “I would lose myself in my mind. And… sometimes, physical pain was the only way I could bring myself out of it. I couldn’t control my mind, so I clung on to the one thing I could control. Over time, I learned to control the episodes without needing to harm myself, but when we learned about the bomb… I was right back there, at the Allendale station, the day it exploded. I couldn’t fail, not again, so… I did what I had to. I’m not going to let anything like Allendale ever happen again. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Kieran clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. Over the past few months, he’d seen multiple sides to Lauren. He’d seen her brilliant mind, her courage, her fierce protectiveness over her friends. And sure, he’d seen how short the fuse on her temper could be, and he knew there were demons in her past. He could tell, from the moment he met her, that taking down the Phantom Scythe was personal for her.
He'd seen her lose her temper at Harry Anslow and very nearly land them both in deep shit because of it. He’d heard about what she did to Tim Sake, and he’d witnessed firsthand how bright the fire of her anger burned when she cornered him in the bathroom the day he first showed up to work at the precinct. But her anger had always been directed at other people, it had always been driven by righteous fury and a deep hatred of injustice. He’d never imagined he’d see her hurt herself.
Not while I’m still breathing. She’d risked everything to save her friends. In a way, her devotion was admirable, but seeing the guilt behind it and seeing her actively hurt herself was different. It was the kind of desperate, self-loathing behavior that reminded him far too much of himself and he hated it. She wasn’t supposed to be as broken and damaged as he was. She was supposed to be better than that—she had friends, a family, a life worth living, and yet she showed a terrifying disregard for her own well-being. It ached to know that she, too, had her own demons to battle.
He placed a gentle hand under her chin, tipping her head up so she looked at him. And in that moment, as their eyes met, he knew. He knew the reason why he was so scared of losing her, knew why the image of her hurting herself haunted him and why he couldn’t erase the memory of how she felt in his arms. Oh, he knew. Just as he knew he was absolutely fucked.
He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t get attached to anyone, not when the Phantom Scythe had power over him. Getting attached was beyond reckless, it was stupid. And he’d certainly never expected to get attached to the police officer with the golden eyes and a deep, personal hatred for the Phantom Scythe—and him by extension. And yet, there he was, standing close enough to see the way the light reflected in her eyes, his hand on her chin. He never wanted to let her go, and it terrified him.
The weight of the realization of just how much she meant to him shook him to his core. Before her, he trembled, left breathless by the knowledge. He knew, just as surely as he knew his own name, just as surely as he knew the back of his palm, that he would do whatever it took to keep this woman saf.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re not alone in any of this, love. I know there are some pains that time cannot erase, some grief that never goes away. But you don’t ever have to deal with this alone again, you don’t ever again have to suffer in silence. No matter what happens, from here on out, I’m by your side. We’re partners, remember?”
On pure instinct alone, he cupped the side of her face, brushing his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. He half expected her to pull away, to put distance between them, but instead she smiled as she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. Kieran swallowed down the lump of emotion that rose in his throat at the sight and at the feel of her soft skin beneath his palm.
It was strange to think that in a few short months, their relationship could change so much. That they could go from mutual distrust and hatred—on her part, at least—to this. To think that they could go from her pulling her gun on him at every possible opportunity to trusting him enough to close her eyes around him. It was remarkable, and it terrified him just as much as it thrilled him.
“Partners,” she said, opening her eyes to look at him. In those golden eyes, he saw the world he never dared to dream existed. Her smile was soft, and she looked at him with an understanding, a trust, so deep that it took his breath away. “I like that.”
Twice now they’d re-affirmed their partnership, after the initial uneasy deal. First, by the fire in his cave, as she extended a hand, an olive branch, and forgave him for how he’d hurt her. And then again in the factory, when they were both bruised and bloodied and staring death in the eyes but agreed to do everything in their power to stop the factory from exploding. To work together until the bitter end. Both times had marked an undeniable shift in their relationships, and Kieran knew that this time was no different.
He wanted nothing more than to let that moment stretch on forever, to get lost in the depths of her eyes, but he couldn’t. He had to maintain what little distance there still was between them, had to cling to the last shreds of impartiality, even if it was futile. He was already in too deep, it was too late to turn back, but he couldn’t let himself entirely give in, either. He couldn’t risk ruining their partnership, and he sure as hell couldn’t risk her. He could never let anyone know how he truly felt about her.
He cleared his throat and dropped his hand, turning away from her. “Well, if your shoulder is—”
“Kieran, wait—” Lauren grabbed his hand as he started to walk off. He turned back to look at her, at the firm set of her mouth in a slight smile and the soft determination in her eyes.
“I want you to know that I meant every word I said back in the factory,” she said. “I’m glad our paths crossed that night. I’m glad that it was you I ran into. My life is better for having you in it. And… thank you. For everything.”
“Always, Lauren,” he promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman that stood before him. This incredible, brilliant woman who somehow looked at him and still saw the good, despite everything he’d done.
She’d not just made him a better man; she’d made him want to be a better man. When he was with her, he didn’t have to try quite so hard to remember his humanity, because she brought out the best in him. He’d nearly ruined it all when he lost control and hurt her, and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t ever let that happen again. She was the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time, and damn if he’d ever be the cause of her hurt again.
Taking a risk, he stepped forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Together until the end. That’s what partners are for, love.”
Beneath his touch, Lauren smiled as she made a small noise of contentment, and that was enough. It was so much more than enough.