Chapter Text
“I still press your letters to my lips
And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss
I couldn't face a life without your lights
But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight
So save your breath, I will not care
I think I made it very clear
You couldn't hate enough to love
Is that supposed to be enough?
I only wish you weren't my friend
Then I could hurt you in the end
I never claimed to be a saint
Ooh, my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go”
-“Snuff”, Slipknot
Jackie watches as V takes a hit to the diaphragm, wind knocked from her lungs. She is a tiny thing and that blow had been massive. Feet flying up in the air, she topples. It was like one of the old cartoons. To think the only thing that could stop her was a hit from a sixteen year old streetrat who landed a lucky shot. The kid darts off. With him goes their info. Jackie walks down the street and grins like a fool. Peering down at her, he can see she is still trying to catch her breath.
“Wow V,” He says to her and offers a hand. Delicate fingers grip his own as he pulls her upright. Opening her eyes, she glares at him. The scar through her lip pulls uncomfortably.
“Not a word Jack, not a single word.” He dusts her off, hands brushing away grime. He can feel her ribs through her thin t-shirt. Still not eating enough. The thing is, that V is a tortoise. Everything moves slow. The only exception being her mind. Food and rest are rare things. They take their toll.
“V,” He growls and she freezes, “Your comin’ to Mama’s with me. Get some food in that belly,” He barks. Her face softens, lips tugging into a soft smile. She presses her forehead to his shoulder, letting it rest for a moment. It was their silent way of acknowledging one another. Their vast difference in height meant she couldn’t reach to press her head against his own. So he does it for her. All the tension in her body bleeds away and is left with a calm peace. She smells like cigarette smoke and the vodka she’d drank before the job.
“I am going to fucking kill that streetrat if I every get my hands on him.” She huffs. Jackie chuckles, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and leads her away from the scene.
--
There is something about her that isn’t quite right. Not in a bad way. Some edges are too hard, while others are far too soft. Jackie knows she had a shady past, got more than enough scars to prove it. First time he sees them, they’re with Viktor. It is for a bit of sparring and nothing more. As she lifts her shirt over her head, both men pause. V doesn’t notice. Her back to them. There are deep set scars from flesh being torn open repeatedly. Each line is a different length; one long tear stretches from shoulder to beneath her waistband. Those kinds of scars are familiar. Flesh torn from a leather belt aches on his own arm as he gazes at her body. The cruelty that would have taken...he doesn’t want to think about it. So instead he looks at her tattoos; twisting vines, flowers and mandalas decorate her skin. He had been there for a few of the ones on her arm. A cluster of daffodils are nestled at the base of her neck. The skin is still healing around the ink. As V turns he finds himself blinking, eyes tearing away to look at the floor. Viktor is watching, eyes gleaming.
V hits like a freight train and has the stubbornness of an ox. There is a rare and natural battle sense inside that mind. Jackie remembers the first time she hit him. Cold cocked him straight to the jaw. He had deserved it too. Despite having no metal in her hands, he felt like he might be spitting teeth. Viktor dodges expertly, weaving. V dances with him, her smaller frame making her fast and difficult. They have barely tapped one another, not trying to hurt. They look good, he realizes. It is a slap to the face. Oh Viktor would swear up and down he had no interest in V. He would cock an eyebrow, but Jackie knows. Deep in the doc’s heart is a soft spot for her. Jackie can’t be jealous. Misty is at home waiting and wanting. Maybe in another life he would have met V sooner. She accidentally throws a punch too wide and leaves herself open. Viktor taps his knuckles to the ribs. Both stop and look at one another. Jackie crosses his arms and just watches; they burst into laughter over their reactions to the gentle tap. Once again Jackie quashes those feelings back into the box they had sprung from.
---
He finds her leaning against the wall. Jacket shredded, buck shot frames her body like a halo. Her eyes are open, but unseeing. Around her is roughly a dozen bodies, all flatlined. Blood stains the hem of her pants. A leaking body shrouding her own in crimson. They’d fought something fierce the day before. He could tell she’d been furious when V didn’t show for their weekly chill session. When she had called, he’d let it go straight to voicemail. It had been petty. Then he’d heard her voice, weak and begging for help. Now he was staring at the splash of blood behind her. Moving forward he grabbed her under the knees and swung her into his arms. The bone of her clavicle is exposed, movement jolted but did not wake her. Jump starting, he darts out of the alleyway. There is panic creeping in. V’s breath is barely there. Sliding her into the passenger seat, he pauses to look at her face. Pale as a ghost. All that stands out is the harsh lines of her dark makeup. Death does not become her.
Misty sits opposite him, her eyes trained on her tarot cards. The Devil dances between her fingers. A horned woman with obsidian eyes glances back, clutching a vibrant red pill. V had drawn those cards, a present for Misty. It is not the typical style, lines unclear. Jackie’s knee bounces up and down, hands clasping together.
“She’ll be alright,” Misty says and pats his cheek, her eyes soft and affectionate. It had been hours of waiting. The radio silence from Viktor did little to help the nerves.
“How do ya’ know?” He asks and it comes out a bit too harsh, “God I could kill her myself for being so fuckin’ dumb.” Misty looks at him, smile soft and coaxing. God did he love the woman.
“Your journey isn’t done quite yet,” She tells him. Slow footsteps are making their way up the stairs. It isn’t long before V rounds the corner. Her shoulder is wrapped tight in a bandage and her eyes are glassy. There is the stench of anesthetic and Viktor’s soap. As he turns, Jackie doesn’t fail to miss the sorrowful look in Misty’s eyes. But as quick as it had appeared, it is gone in a flash.
“Misty,” V greets and he can hear how nervous she is in her wavering tone, “Sorry, but can I borrow Jack for a minute?” She doesn’t have the time to get comfortable. Jackie pushes off the wall and waves a hand to the back of the shop. Misty shoots V a sympathetic glance.
The door to Misty’s shop slams shut and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from yelling. Turning, he picks V up and sets her atop a nearby crate. Too frail. Now they are eye to eye. Hers are foggy from the drugs, a little bloodshot. Jackie cups both of her cheeks.
“Sorry Jack,” She murmurs, “Thought I could handle it alone,” That’s the thing about V. She always blames herself more than anyone else could. Jackie, well he is just thankful she’s back and breathing.
“What are we chica?” He questions firmly. She flinches slightly, and her hand comes to grip his forearm. The grip is so very weak.
“A team,” She answers, “Familia,” She states a second later and the accent is atrocious. Jackie presses their foreheads together. It might look like a gesture of romance, but it’s not. That would be too simple, an injustice. It says so much more than anyone could take a gander to understand. It says it’s alright , I understand , and hush now all at once.
“That’s right,” He tells her, “So when I say that we’re not doing a job, we don’t do the job.” They stay like that for a moment. She is falling asleep against him, head heavy. Jackie picks her back up and carries her down the stairs tenderly. Viktor makes eye contact as he carries her in. Jackie deposits her into a nearby recovery bed. After a few minutes her eyes close. Jackie brushes the hair out of her face and leaves her to rest.
Viktor is watching closely. His eyes are hidden behind his shades, yet Jackie can feel the weight of the gaze. Sitting down on the nearest chair, he pulls out his flask and takes a drink. It's tequila and it burns going down. The old ripper twists in his chair. Rolling over, he extends a hand and takes the flask.
“Did you know,” He takes a swig and pauses, “That flowers have meanings. Old language. Now dead. But if you do your research, it could lead you to some interesting discoveries. Do you know what daffodils mean, it is rather interesting.” Viktor looks at V and it is a tired glance. A glance that says so much more than words ever could. Jackie shakes his head.
“No clue, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.” The old ripper looks back at him and pulls off his glasses. It is rare that Viktor is hard or hash, but the line is there today. Lips pressed together, he remains silent for a moment before speaking to Jackie.
“They stand for regard and joy,” That all seems inconsequential, “And unrequited love,” That last bit is tacked on with emphasis. Jackie freezes in place and his eyes meet Viktor’s.
“Vik-” He is cut off by a raised hand. Viktor Vector is staring him down and not giving an inch of wiggle room.
“She’s fragile Jack. Don’t tempt her with something she can never have. I know you got feelings in the mix too, don’t even try and deny it. Getting real tired of picking up the pieces,” Viktor finishes and hands the flask back. Jackie sits there and feels empty.
---
V is in a dress that hugs her curves. Her leg sits atop the coffee table as she straps up her garter belt. Fine silk and muted colors look good on V; every part of that dress is a nice accent to more prominent assets. They’re in the fancy Arasoka hotel. It is the single greatest thing either of them has ever seen. The lap of luxury is foreign and cold. On the table sits a few shooters. He’s had two and she’s had three.
“You plannin’ on seducing Yorinobu if we get caught?” He says gruffly. She flips her hair over her shoulder and narrows her gaze. The mass of violet curls is eye-catching. Dressed in corpo attire, she looks damn nasty. It hardens her softer edges. She is made for simple clothes, comfortable ones, not the shit she’s squeezed into now. The light is fading from the sky. Sunset lights the room in flames. Shades of orange and red reflect off of hard metal.
“No Jackie, this outfit is a pain in the ass. I’m gonna have words with Dex when we get back. I start running, no way these things are stayin’ up. So it’s not about sex appeal. It's practical.” He gets a real eye full as she bends to pick up her discarded knife. Leave it to V to sneak a steak knife off of their dinner plate. For a moment he drinks it in. The image of her bathing in the fading sun. She’s beautiful. This job, if they did it right, would have them set up for life. If it went to shit, well they were inevitably fucked. Standing, he comes up behind her; she’s so small, so fierce. He places his hands on her hips and she freezes like she’s been shot.
“Pretend with me, just for a movement.” He pulls her back against his chest and her head rests in the indent of his shoulder.
“Jackie,” She lets out a warning that is far too soft. Her voice is breathy and filled with something neither one of them wants to acknowledge.
“Just pretend.”
He turns her in his arms and her eyes won’t meet his own. This close he can smell her perfume. Jasmine and vanilla. Tipping her chin up, he gives himself a moment to study her face. V is unsure. Eyes find his nose, his chin, his ears, and even his lips. Yet they never quite meet his gaze. With a glance towards the radio, he plays them a tune. It's slow and soft jazz. He moves one hand from her hip to her hand and sways them to the music. Her body follows, material of her dress rubbing against his skin.
“I can’t do this,” She says and there is hurt in her voice. Jackie grips her hip tighter. She wants to fight, he can tell. Leaning in, he presses his cheek close to her own.
“We might die tonight Andrea Valorie,” He whispers in her ear, “So let’s enjoy the moments we never got to have.” The words melt her, but there is still a hesitance. V still won’t meet his eyes.
“Jack, I love you and I’m pretty sure you know that.” She shifts her own grip and her breath caresses his neck, “But I am not a home wrecker and I love Misty too much to be doin’ this.” There are nerves that shouldn’t be there, not between the two of them. What they have is simple. No need for words. Jackie leans away and cups her cheek. Can smell the liquor on her breath. V’s eyes finally meet his and they are lit with something more than desire.
“We talked about it, Misty and I.” He sways and their hips brush. For a moment she looks horrified. Jack soothes it by rubbing her cheek. At that she pulls back, far enough to seem threatened.
“Well, it always feels so good to be second best.” Her words are bitter and fraught with something terrible, “I will not survive it Jackie. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His girl always has to fight, doesn’t know how else to live.
“Not about you, about the job.” He yanks her back towards him, “Misty ended it, couldn’t wait up for a dead man walking.” She breathes in heavily.
“Then what are we pretending for?”
Her back hits the wall and she moans. A beautiful sound. His lips are on her neck, teeth grazing skin. V’s hands are searching. They slip under his fancy suit jacket and yank at the material of his button-down. She looks up at him, eyes burning and lips parted. Jackie’s own hand dives under the material of her dress, hoisting it up. Under it is that cursed garter belt.
“I changed my mind.Remind me to thank Dex for the...added bonus,” He pauses to say. V is warm and inviting, coaxing him back to her body with a coy look. Jackie catches her smirk a quarter of a second too late. Fingers are at the buckle to his belt and yanking it open. Her hands sink in and it’s his own moan that echoes in the room. Her hands wrap around his cock and for a moment he sees stars. Jackie bites her neck in retaliation before moving between her breasts. Yanking her hands away, he pins them to the wall at her sides. Slowly he makes his way down her body. Her head tips back. The black lace underwear are a nice touch. He rips them away and buries his head between her legs, calf thrown over his shoulder.
---
“Jackie c’mon!” She’s got his face clutched between her hands. He is torn between the numbness spreading through his body and the desperation on her face. The dress is torn, blood staining the fabric. One of V’s arms is broken. Adrenaline is still pumping heavy, so it is quickly forgotten. The lights are blinding as they move through the city.
“Oh shit V,” He gasps. It is the end, at least for him. She’s gonna live big, make it out alive. That he knows for a fact. Reaching up, his hand slides down her cheek to her neck. Blood smears. Her eyes are wild and the breath inside her chest is coming in short bursts. Jackie leans in, lips to her to her ear.
“You’re gonna be rich V,” She grips him tight and her nails bite in. Frantically she turns to Delamain and punches the seat.
“Get us to a ripper!” She screams. Jackie doesn’t hear the reply. For a moment the world blurs. All he can see is her. Dressed in a golden dream and covered in blood she looks perfect. Damn the city had burned too bright for them. Time slows and he thinks about what might have been if they’d had more time.
“We. Jack, we, are gonna be rich!” She is desperate, he can hear it in her voice. Tears are starting to leak out from the corners of her eyes. Reaching up, he slots out the biochip. With a bloody hand he slips it into her neural port. For a moment her eyes flash blue.
“Look after Mama and Misty for me,” He chuckles, “Misty, she always knew.” V lets out a cry that feels like more of a call to battle than a mourning wail. Jackie smirks, one hand clutching his gut, and kisses her cheek.
"I love you." He lets himself savor the smell of her skin one last time,“I’m sorry,” He gasps out. Slow and sure the world fades around him. Death isn’t darkness, it’s warm and full of light.
---
V stares at Dexter. The thin material of her dress is too revealing in the moment. They’d had their spat. He accused her of homicide and she accused him of incompetence. She wasn’t a fool. V knew the dismissal to the bathroom was a pleasantry that was entirely unnecessary. The drying blood on her face and neck cracked like macabre war paint. His shades were off, eyes scanning for compliance. V uncrossed her arms and spread her arms wide.
“What the fuck are you waiting for Dex? No need to spare my feelings,” She snarls, “We both know how this ends. Just get it over with. You rigged this in your favor from the start,” Vitriol spills out with every word. Misty had been right. So had V. Cutting them loose had always been a possibility. With such a botched job she didn’t blame Dexter for this level of coverage. It was simply bizz. That didn’t stop the rage she felt boiling.
“On your feet or on your knees?” Dex asks her and presses the barrel of his gun to her temple. V laughs and it is hollow. Meeting his gaze, she grabs his wrist tight and sure. Jackie’s face flashes before her eyes.
“On my feet Dex,” V looks him in the eyes, “Would hate to die quiet.” His lips quirk slightly. She doesn’t die quiet, no she dies with a crack of thunder.
---
Misty lays her head on V's shoulder. Together they sit side by side in Jackie's garage. Both them had been crying for what seemed like ages. It was all a mess. Mama Welles had her offrenda. This was their own private memorial for him.
"He would be so pissed if he saw us like this." V holds Misty a little tighter. Incense burns in the corner of the room and low music plays. Misty turns her head, eyes wandering over V's face.
"Nah, Jackie would have loved all the attention." She laughs and it draws one out of V too. Since V had been brought to Viktor's clinic half-dead and still dying, her relationship with Misty had flourished. That first night, the two of them confronted some hard truths. Neither one of them was upset with the other. Both of them had gotten Jackie, just different parts.
"Let's just say here a little while longer," V says and lets the safety of sanctuary help her forget the city of neon and chrome.