Chapter Text
Ashe surveyed the busy bar as she sipped her glass of whiskey, the ice rattling around gently as she tilted it up to her red painted lips. She didn’t like being in such a crowded place, but the stern, unapproachable scowl carved into her face made sure all the snooty shits were giving her a wide berth, so she had plenty of room to breath and examine the people around her.
All of them were dressed to the nines, covered from head to toe in fancy clothes and jewellery. Jewellery they wouldn’t have for much longer, not once her boys came in and kindly, or not depending on if they all done as they were told, relieved them of their wares. After all, the expensive-looking gems and chains all looked so very heavy and Ashe couldn’t just stand by and let these very important, privileged people carry all that weight. She was doing them a service really. They should be paying her to rob them.
She turned to face the bar, draining the last of her drink and licking her lips, the taste of her lipstick mixing with the bitter alcohol and lifted her empty glass, waving it at the barman for a refill. He trotted over, a little faster than he did for any of the other patrons and took her glass, quickly replacing it with a fresh one, full of amber liquid and ice.
Ashe nodded towards him in thanks as she lifted the glass to her lips and watched him scuttle back down the bar to serve someone else. She clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth as she turned back to face the room, her piercing red eyes gracefully moving from person to person, assessing how much their pretty shiny pieces were worth.
She was about halfway through counting up the room, and at a pretty promising price already when a flash of blue caught her eye from the entrance. A woman, tall and slim, strutted into the room, her chin held high, her long dark raven coloured hair falling down her back, stopping midway down her thighs from its high ponytail. A fitted deep purple dress hugged the woman’s body, clinging to each curve and bend of her, gripping onto her delicate waist like its life depended on it, not that Ashe could blame it. She’d be doing the same if she was in the dresses position.
There was something oddly familiar about the blue-skinned woman that was niggling at the back of Ashe's mind as she watched her approach the bar. She came right up beside Ashe, had placed her elbows on the bar and waved for the barman’s attention and Ashe got a good look at her from behind. She eyes trailed down the woman’s open-backed dress, which revealed a large black spider tattoo, and continued further down until she reached her perfectly round ass, which the dress was also wisely clutching like a prized possession. And that was when it hit her. Only one person in the whole world had an ass like that.
“Amélie?” Ashe called out, her accent as thick as it always was.
The woman’s head snapped around, her long ponytail flicking out behind her and hazel eyes, somehow more yellow than Ashe remembered them, narrowed as she looked Ashe up and down. For a moment she glowered at her, her thin eyebrows furrowing, her glossy purple lip curling slightly like she had never seen the white-haired woman next to her before and for a brief second Ashe thought she had made a mistake, but as she opened her mouth to apologise a look of recognition flashed through Amélie’s eyes and she took in a sharp breath.
“Elizabeth?” She asked, her heavy accent making the name sound almost bearable to Ashe’s ears. Almost.
“Ashe,” She corrected her, her eyes giving the woman another once over. She looked different. And not just the skin. Everything was different. The way she had walked across the room, her posture as she leaned on the bar. Hell, even her scent was different. Ashe had always remembered her as smelling of roses and caramel, sometimes with a hint of leather if she’d been dancing that day. But now she was giving off a strange, almost bitter scent, like copper and something else that Ashe couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unpleasant it was just alarming, making the hairs on the backs of her arms stand on end.
“Ashe,” She nodded gently as the barman approached them both, Amélie opened her mouth to order but Ashe cut her off, tilting her head a fraction over her shoulder at the barman.
“She’ll have a glass of Malbec,” She told him casually, hiding her amusement when Amélie turned to look at her in surprise. “That’s right ain’t it?” She added, cocking a dark eyebrow at her.
“It’s pronounced Mahl-Behk,” Her French accent made the simple word sound so exciting and it reminded Ashe of how she used to mock her for butchering the names of the different types of wines whenever she’d tried to teach her them. “But yes,” Amélie nodded at the barman who ran off to fetch her drink. “I’m surprised you remembered that. I’m surprised you remembered me,” she admitted and Ashe had to fight to stop herself looking offended.
“Like I was ever going to forget you,” Ashe muttered, taking a small sip from her glass, before licking her teeth and turning her eyes away from Amélie.
The barman returned with her drink and Ashe told him to stick it on her tab, not that she was going to be paying for it anyway.
The two women sat in silence for a few moments, Ashe leaning her elbows on the bar as her eyes drifted across the many faces around her but she wasn’t paying attention to them now. She was trying not to turn back to the woman sipping her wine quietly next to her, trying not to look back and let her eyes drag up and down her long leg that was visible through the thigh-high slit in her dress.
Amélie sighed and Ashe’s eyes flicked towards her immediately, watching her from the corners of her heavily lined eyes.
“I always thought you would be in a prison cell somewhere by now,” Amélie said quietly as she placed her glass back on the bar, licking the wine away from her lips and Ashe pretended that the motion didn’t make something in her gut burn horribly.
“Please, we both know I’m too smart to get caught,” She smirked, lifting her glass to her lips.
“Oui, you always were very clever,” Amélie purred, running her finger around the edge of the glass. Ashe’s eyes were drawn to the rest of her hand and she noticed the absence of her wedding ring, making Ashe’s eyebrows jerk upwards without warning.
“What happened to the husband? I promise I’m not still mad at the only man I’ve ever lost a woman too,” Her painted lip curled upwards as half a chuckle escaped her throat, trying to cover her lie.
Amélie’s shoulders noticeably stiffened and her finger stopped in its trip around her glass as she lowered her eyes to the polished wood of the bar, before she took in a deep breath.
“Nothing,” She said shortly, the single word laced in melancholy and Ashe felt her lips part a fraction as her head fell to the side gently. Amélie had said it herself, Ashe was clever, but it didn’t take a clever person to figure out that “Nothing” meant “something” and that something wasn’t pleasant.
“I’m sorry,” Ashe breathed, swallowing the newly formed lump in her throat as she turned to look back at the room.
“Sorry for what exactly?” Amélie frowned up at her, her dark hair swinging out behind her again.
“Nothing,” Ashe said simply, their eyes locked for a minute and Ashe noticed the sounds of the room around her dull slightly as she focused in on her old “friend”. She was still as beautiful as she had been years ago, a fact that stung Ashe a little. How was it fair that she got to stay perfect? Why did she get to stay as this personification of beautiful, even if she was blue now?
“So, what’s with the body paint? You got one of your dancing show things?” Ashe pried, her eyes dragging up and down her again, using the body paint comment as an excuse.
“Ballet,” Amélie corrected her with a half-hearted chuckle, sipping her wine again.
“That’s what I said,” Ashe said matter-of-factly with a straight face.
They made eye contact again before they both laughed, Amélie’s laugh filling Ashe’s stomach with butterflies just like it used to. The deep, throaty sound was a sound she had missed hearing over the years.
“No, I gave that up a long time ago,” Amélie told her when she’d stopped laughing, a mournful smile creeping across her face as she again stared down at the bar, her fingers playing idly with the stem of her wine glass.
“Why’d you do that for? You were so good at it!” Ashe’s voice rose slightly, a few of the other patrons turning to glare at her before they turned back to their conversations. If she hadn’t been so focused on Amélie, she would have given them the finger.
“How would you know?” Amélie challenged her, raising a questioning eyebrow at her over her shoulder.
“I might have snuck into one or two of your little shows every now and then,” Ashe replied sheepishly, dipping her chin to her chest as she took a drink from her glass to hide her face from the now smirking Amélie.
“Now why would you go and do that? I thought you had no time for my “Silly prancin’ about,”” She tried to imitate Ashe’s southern accent and the sound made Ashe snort into her whiskey.
“Curiosity killed the cat and all that. Plus, I wanted to see if you were as good as that snobby attitude of yours implied,” Ashe rolled her eyes at her, her mouth twisting upwards as she clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth.
“And you thought I was good?” Amélie pried, her brilliant eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar.
“Your ego wasn’t unjust,” Ashe admitted with another roll of her eyes. “It was still fucking annoying though,” She added in a mutter.
Amelie chuckled next to her and Ashe’s eyes flashed over to her.
“Merci. You never did like being around confident people,” Amélie added with a shake of her head.
“Is that so?” Ashe narrowed her eyes at her, rolling her tongue under her teeth.
“It is. I think it made you feel threatened. Like your authority was being challenged,” Amélie said casually, looking up at the colourful bottles behind the bar as she lifted her glass to her lips again just as Ashe let out a growl from her throat.
“You’re full of shit Amelie,” Ashe scowled, pretending she wasn’t offended by the beautiful woman’s insinuation.
“Oh am I? Or am I, how did you used to say it, right on the money?” She didn’t bother trying to mirror Ashe’s accent this time, letting her natural voice make the sentence sound all kinds of appealing to Ashe’s ears as she leaned her blue chin on the back of her hand and smiled up at her devilishly, her thin eyebrows wiggling daringly at her.
Ashe opened her mouth to respond, something witty and biting, but the words died in her throat and instead she was left gaping down at Amélie, her mind wandering briefly to wonder if her blue lips felt the same as they did when they were peach coloured. Did kissing her still feel like diving into a cold lake on a hot summers day? Did she still taste like fancy cakes and rich wine?
She tore her eyes away from the woman’s lips, her lip curling back into a scowl as she lifted her glass to her lips again.
“Pffft. You might be all different on the outside but you’re still the same little shit you always were Elie,” She scoffed, using the old nickname only Ashe had been allowed to call her. From the corner of her eye, she caught the sight of Amélie’s chest hitching slightly, her lips parting a faction at Ashe’s words.
Ashe stared out into the room, busier now, more rich socialites covered in jewellery ripe for the picking and she cleared her throat, remembering why she was in this damned bar in the first place.
“You might want to finish your drink and high-tail it out of here. ‘Cause in about seven minutes, my boys will be in here to swipe these smug bastards of their shiny bits. And if you cherish that necklace around your pretty neck, you might want to leave,” Ashe warned her quietly, lowering her voice so only Amelie could hear her.
“Surely you are past the point of petty thievery by now?” Amélie pried, her tone tinted with teasing as she eyed Ashe from the corner of her eye.
“We are. We’re just passing through and figured we’d have some fun on our way out of town. Been a while since we stole somethin’ just for the sake of it,” Ashe clarified. Amélie nodded, drained the last of her wine and placed the glass down elegantly before she pushed herself off the bar and turned to leave.
“Au revoir, Ashe,” She said softly. She reached over and placed a hand on Ashe’s shoulder and the white-haired woman jumped, almost dropping her glass as the chill from Amélie’s skin seeping through her shirt and into her bones, sending a violent shiver down her spine.
“You’re ice cold!” She declared in a yelp, her eyes going wide as she looked from the blue hand on her shoulder to the soft yellow eyes.
“You always did say I was a cold-hearted bitch,” She reasoned quietly, squeezing her shoulder gently, deepening the icy feeling that ran through Ashe’s body before she let her hand fall away from her and she headed for the exit.
Ashe watched her go, her eyes stuck to the back of her swinging ponytail as she sashayed towards the door. Ashe was met with an almost overwhelming urge to chase after her, to grab her by the hand, pull her back and crush their lips together just one more time, because chances were she was never seeing her ever again. But then again she’d thought that the last time she’d seen her. And she hadn’t kissed her then either.
Just as Amélie reached the door, a large mech came stomping through, his tiny bowler hat sat crookedly on his shiny silver head. His bright green eyes caught the sight of Amélie, and he stepped back, holding the door for her, tilting his hat as she looked up to smile at him in thanks as she slid past him.
After she was safely out of the door, Bob let it swing shut, before barging his way, unapologetically through the mass of people towards his boss. He leaned his thick metallic arm on the bar, making it creak in complaint, nodding down to Ashe to confirm everything was ready.
She nodded back in response, lifting her almost empty glass and letting the last of the whiskey fall directly into her mouth, the last surviving ice cube dropping on to her tongue. She lifted her head and crunched the ice between her teeth, grinding it down under she could swallow it before she dropped her glass on to the bar.
A minute later the door to the bar was kicked open as her men came barrelling in, shouting and brandishing their guns at the screaming people around them. One of them ran across the room, handing Ashe her rifle and she took it with a nod, climbing up onto the bar and firing a shot into the ceiling to get the rooms attention.
“Alright! Listen carefully. A few of my boys here are going to be walking 'round each of you with a big ol’ sack. Drop your shiny shit and wallets into it quietly and no one gets hurt and we’ll be out your ridiculously styled hair in no time,” She bellowed out around her.
A tall man with a thick black moustache scowled at her, stormed over to the bar and began yelling at her. She rolled her eyes at him as he screamed about how she “won’t get away with this” and they “aren’t going to do what she says”.
She rolled her shoulders before she lifted her rifle, slamming the butt of it into his nose, the sound of it breaking echoing around the room.
“Like I said: Do as yer told and no one gets hurt. Exhibit A,” She waved her hand at the bleeding man who was on his knees, cradling his nose as the streams of blood soaking into his fancy shirt.
Ten minutes later and the Deadlock gang were leaving, bags full of jingling necklaces and watches, piling into the dark street and into the two stolen cars they’d parked outside. Ashe’s eyes glanced up for just a second, catching the sight of blue and purple from across the street.
Amélie was leaning against a wall, one leg propped up, sticking out of the slit in her dress, one arm folded underneath her chest as she lifted a lit cigarette to her lips and even from across the street, Ashe could see the faint glint of wetness on her cheeks.
She stalled, her heart dropping into her stomach as she considered for a second, crossing the street to her, but that thought was promptly interrupted as she was roughly pushed into the car by Bob’s cold metal hands.
As their driver pulled away, Ashe’s eyes darted up to the rear-view mirror just in time to see a thin streak of raven hair vanish around a corner.
As the rest of her men cheered and hollered with the rush of the job going off as planned, Ashe sat quietly in the back seat, biting down hard on her tongue, getting lost in the memories of years ago.