theresalwayshope | Entries tagged with verse: darrow

Allison was finally starting to realize what life without Scott would have felt like.

The two weeks after Jason's departure were a strange cocktail of grief so painful it wore her down and left her numb, white hot rage, and a sense of obligation that left her with no time, energy, or will to look after herself.

Athos got his muffins every couple of days. She was readying herself for graduation. She got a small raise at work. Beta and Todd got walked, and every night after dinner she went back to reviewing the material on her local options for college with one or both curled up on her lap or draped across her shoulders. There was also, of course, the odd night here and there when she let herself into her uncles' apartment to bring by extra baked goods, treats for the Captain, or just quietly took a look around to make sure they were taking care of themselves.

And at night, she would take to the streets. More of her targets ended up at the hospital these days than ended up at the police station, all of them deathly afraid of the Alpha and her cold, unchecked fury.

The Alpha alone emptied herself out, raging and screaming and feeling. Allison herself, as she fulfilled her obligations, was stoic, at best. She often forgot to eat, taken to nibbling when she cooked for others and often making up for it with a post-patrol pizza in America's honor, and stayed out so late as the Alpha that she grew pale and visibly exhausted.

The last time she lost the boy she loved, she kept him in secret. When she really lost him, it was her choice. She escaped for a summer...she traveled, she at least tried to heal.

This time, she had no secret affair, no place to run. It was just Allison and her pain...and she couldn't even talk to her uncles about it. Especially Porthos.

She felt the void today as she quietly let herself into their apartment, a bag of muffins under one arm. It wasn't intentional, but along with some leftovers from the batch of chocolate orange she'd made for Athos, there were a few of the chocolate salted caramel Porthos loved so much.

She didn't say a word as she used her key to unlock the door. She headed for the kitchen and immediately checked to see if they had any older ones that were frozen for later. She was dressed for work, but the white slip dress and black cardigan were plain, clearly chosen for ease of removal for later, when she got into her gear. She was also wearing more make up than usual, with plenty of concealer to hide not just the circles under her eyes, but a healing bruise on her jaw from a fight the week before.

She'd grown better at concealing wounds since the night she'd been mugged.

While she was aware of Porthos, she said nothing to him. The night after he found her, she'd tried to talk to him, but he hadn't said a word to her. She'd stopped a couple days later, as the sorrow wore and the rage burned...

Today, the Captain was the only one to greet her, leaping onto the nearby counter to miaow in greeting. Shutting the freezer, she stopped long enough to quietly stroke his back and offer him her fingers so he could smell what Todd and Beta had been up to.

Allison couldn't remember the last time she'd been so nervous. Well...she could remember, but it was more than a little traumatic to even try.

This was a lot different from being abducted from the gas station and left in an abandoned house to free herself. Survival was a motivator, sure, but as she finished her morning jog in Petros Park, heading for the amphitheater where she agreed to meet Athos for her first lesson in swordplay, she felt like something more was at stake.

She wanted him to like her, for one. It felt like maybe she was making progress, but she was impatient, waiting for him to understand that she was sincere: she loved her uncles. He was part of them, she understood that...how could she not love him by default?

Give it time. she reminded herself as she reached the amphitheater, slowing her pace as she scanned the area for signs of Athos. Seeing none, she checked her watch and realized she was about fifteen minutes early.

So much for patience.

Smiling to herself, she started to do some stretches to stay loose while she waited. She'd worn her usual running gear of leggings and a sports bra, but added a hoodie to stay warm. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what to wear for a sword lesson, but figured she couldn't go wrong dressing to exercise. As she stretched, she found herself wondering how they dressed to train in the garrison back in Paris. There was a lot she didn't know about their lives back home, things she couldn't read about in the Dumas books or even the history books...

With a start that left her breathless and smiling as she rose from a stretch, she realized she was learning swordplay from the same man that probably taught D'artagnan how to fight like a Musketeer...the man who probably showed her uncles the best of what he knew.

And today, it was her turn to start.

The sudden rush of emotion that filled her chest made her eyes burn, a sense of being connected to something greater than eve her family legacy...greater than even the Alpha or the legacy of justice Jason once represented...she liked to tease Aramis and Porthos that she was a Musketeer by blood, but this sort of made it true. Trained like her forefathers, trained by her forefathers...

Still grinning, Allison dropped down to sit on the ground so she could spread her legs out and touch her head to her knee in a slow, luxurious stretch.

She could wait to earn Athos' respect. She was an Argent, and the progeny of Musketeer blood. The family name might have been tarnished over the centuries, but if Athos ever thought her a worthy person to befriend...maybe it was all in her own head, but that would be enough to restore her good name.

Current Mood: excited

It was another loud night for her uncles, and before Tris woke up the next morning Allison had eggs, muffins, and sausage going for breakfast...along with coffee. Lots of coffee. As they ate, Tris mentioned the party in the mountains, which Allison wasn't attending. She fully intended to try and track down Jason before midnight so they could at least have a midnight kiss...

But even girls followed the code: bros before hos. Well, the gender-appropriate version.

"Tell you what," she'd promised, "if the party gets to be too much? Text me, take the tram down from Kagura, and we'll go out and do something nuts to ring in the New Year. I'll do something fun, yet slutty, to make it up to Jason."

The ensuing blush she'd gotten out of Tris had been reward enough, and now, just a few days later, she was out on patrol when the text from Tris came in.

Still want me to come by?

From beneath her hood, Allison grinned and texted her back.

My apartment, one hour. In case you want to change or something.

It was enough time to make it back to her apartment via the roof, stash her costume, get the clip in streaks out of her hair, and find something to wear. By the time Tris showed up, Allison was not only ready, she was actually looking forward to the evening.

"You, me, drinks." she informed Tris cheerfully once she showed up at her door. Hooking an arm through hers, the pair started a brisk walk down the corridor. "You and I, Miss Prior, are gonna paint the town red."

...which basically translated to finding a bar not too far from the building, since she also had plans to stop by and see her uncles before midnight. They were going to be around, just not really busy, and she'd seen Tris chatting with Athos at the party so if he was there, at least they could hang out. Three beers in, Allison wasn't drunk, but she was feeling really good, and Tris was right next to her at the bar, putting her in perfect range to just plop her head on the other girl's shoulder with a grin as she tried to dance a little to the music blaring over the crowd at the same time.

Rolling her gaze up, she caught a glimpse of one of Tris's tattoos...and her alcohol relaxed brain made a jump to something Tris had told her once before, which drew her gaze to Tris's earlobe right nearby, smooth and unpierced.

"Hey!" she called, making sure she could be heard over the din as she lifted her head. "How come you got all that gorgeous ink, but never got your ears pierced?"

Current Mood: curious

Allison felt a little like she was going insane.

She started out just planning to invite Aramis and Porthos over to meet Jason. Dinner and drinks, nothing big. Then she realized she didn't just feel obligated to invite Athos, she wanted to. So, if she did that, she obviously had to invite D'artagnan, and she really wanted to meet Constance...and she'd promised Grey a chance to help her bake a cake, so if she did something more than dinner, she could let him come over at some point...

The small family dinner became a small dinner party, and with a few more additions morphed into an impromptu potluck for the whole building...or anyone that wanted to show up. She told the family about it privately, asking Porthos and Aramis to make sure the others at least stopped by (with a subtle warning that Jason would be there), told everyone else she knew in the city, and for the rest of the building she posted a couple of handmade fliers: one in the elevator, and another in the laundry room announcing that, with either a main course or appetizer offering, an invitation to the holiday celebration taking place in apartment #39...dressy casual to formalwear welcome, bring your favorite Christmas CD as a bonus.

And, of course, she told Jason...and told him her family would be there.

By the night of the party, Allison was ready...she just felt a little like she was going insane.

She kept her outfit cute, but simple, and took care of dessert by baking some cupcakes, gingerbread cookies, and a two layer chocolate cake which she invited Grey over to help her bake. With a little careful scheduling, she also managed to contribute to the food on hand with her second ever attempt at beef bourguignon: rich, hearty, and sort of impressive under the right circumstances. By party time, she had her front door standing open, some Trans Siberian Orchestra carols playing on her stereo, and while she didn't yet have a tree, she'd gotten some cute plastic holly garland to hang around the apartment, and for fun had ringed her whole living room ceiling in multicolor Christmas lights for good measure.

The party was good to go. The place smelled good, the food came out okay with more to come...the evening was good to go.

And when Jason showed up, her family would show up...and they'd all meet each other...

While she waited for her guests, loved ones, and boyfriend to start arriving, Allison puttered around in her kitchen, swore to herself she was not hiding, and tried to pretend that she wasn't having visions of someone either drawing a sword or a knife by the end of the evening.

Tonight had to be perfect.

(HOLIDAY GATHERING POST! Treat it thusly. :P Front door's open, come and go as you please, anyone in the Bramford Building is welcome, and if you know Allison even remotely she told you about the party. Gather at will, and leave a call for Allison in your subject line if you want to play with her directly! Open eternally, will probably be linked near the end of the month. :D)

Current Mood: nervous

reminds me of you.

Allison half-gaped, half grinned into her phone at the image of a baby black panther, all claws and patchy black fuzz for fur. It was the cutest damn thing she'd ever seen in her life, and it made her melt in all the right ways.

How dare Jason make her squishy.

Mock pouting at her phone, she texted him back as she crossed the apartment to head for the kitchen. It was a Saturday, she wasn't working, and she was still red enough from her beach adventures that she was giving the Boardwalk a break for the day. So far, she'd cleaned the apartment, worked on her summer reading assignment, done laundry, restrung both her compound and her recurve bows, and sharpened her ring daggers.

She was bored, idle...and idle was not good.

Not since Lydia had left.

Like most terrible things that happened, she was doing her best to forget. She hadn't spoken to anyone else about it, not even Scott...she hadn't really spoken to anyone about much since the day she'd realized it. A text had bounced, her apartment was vacant...and she knew that people came and went, that was how Darrow worked. It just...hadn't happened to her yet.

And everything she'd heard had been right: losing a packmate was like losing a limb. She wasn't gone, but...she wasn't here.

So the text was perfectly timed, a distraction...a slice of very real joy to make her forget how much it hurt, how lonely she was without her best friend. It filled her with all the warmth and safety and fierce, visceral affection she felt for him.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, she texted him back with a grin.

how dare you imply i'm an adorable baby kitty! just for that? you have to come over and help me eat muffins.

She sent the text, deciding on impulse that making a batch of muffins was going to be next on her list. Hell, she'd make a few dozen, give some to Kenzi and Bruce, along with Aramis and Porthos.

And then, after a moment's thought, grinned, biting back a giggle as she sent a second text.

and possibly strip search me again.

Blushing at her own gall, she sent the text and tossed her phone on the counter so she could enter the kitchen and start pulling out what she needed for muffins. She had everything except eggs, blueberries, and chocolate chips. Maybe cranberries and oranges, too, she didn't just want to bake one kind...

Leaving the dry goods on the counter, Allison dashed back to her room to swap cutoffs for a nicer pair of denim shorts underneath her tank top. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror over her vanity, she tried not to see Lydia sitting on the edge of the bed behind her, pointing out that she should put on some makeup in case she ran into the boy...

Allison swallowed past the tightness in her chest and drew a deep breath, pushing the pain aside.

Thread the needle. She's gone and you can't bring her back.

When she felt calmer, she ran a brush through her hair and headed back out to the kitchen to grab her phone. Sliding on a pair of flip flops by her front door, she grabbed her keys off the end table...

She nearly missed it. The only reason it even caught her attention was because it was wedged midway through the split ring on her gemstone keychain, half on and half off.

Like she was meant to see the innocuous little USB drive dangling next to the sparkly, oversized plastic diamond along with the rest of her keys...relics from home, those that were part of her new life in Darrow.

Dangling from her keys like it once dangled from her grandfather's keys...

Standing with the front door open, midway towards leaving, Allison left it hanging there, ajar, forgetting herself as she darted back in to grab her laptop off her desk. Rushing back to the living room, she booted it up and, with shaking fingers, slid the USB drive off her keyring so she could plug it in.

She waited for the drive to open as she clicked on it. Her heart was slamming against her ribs and her vision felt fuzzy around the edges.

When the lone file appeared on her desktop browser, she thought she might faint.

Thread the needle, Allison. Thread the needle, keep it together...oh God...

She double clicked the file and watched it open.

She started paging through it. Words, sketches, etchings...some in French, some in English, some in the archaic Latin that Lydia was no longer there to help her translate.

The entire Argent bestiary was here. In her hands.

Ready to be filled with new races, new truths...whole new worlds for her family to fight and learn about and educate themselves on.

New peoples, new races...and now she could bring them all home.

(Allison's first item in Darrow! Denizens of the Bramford Building, feel free to pass by and see her apartment door just hanging open, same for friends who might drop by to visit! She's also too deeply distracted to be paying attention to her phone, so feel free to come over if she's not picking up and freak out to find her apartment door thus. :P)

Current Mood: shocked

(Takes place the evening of this post.)

Allison was thinking about dinner when she started thinking about Derek.

Last time she'd checked, he was...okay. Sick still, but as okay as he was going to get...while being a sick werewolf. It took the wind right back out of her sails to think of him laid up at home, and wasted her afternoon and the sacrifice of her sunburn as she started worrying about him again.

Too often since that day in the park, she thought about that blood in the grass. She kept feeling the weight of him as he leaned on her for support, and she worried not just about him, but about Scott. If Derek could get sick, and he was an Alpha...

Standing with her head in the fridge, eying some leftover Chinese takeout Kenzi had shared with her the night before after leaving Dr. Banner's place, she made a snap decision and shut the door of the fridge.

Throwing a loose tank top on over the bikini top and cutoffs she was wearing to spare her sunburn, Allison headed out to a place not far from the Bramford Building. It was too late to make her own chicken soup, but she'd eaten at the little mom-and-pop cafe before, and their stuff was as good as homemade: rich broth without being salty, thick shreds of white meat chicken, and vegetables cooked to perfection. It was worlds away from the chicken soup her mother would make when she was sick, the kind that always made her feel sick by association whenever she ate it. This stuff was grade A comfort food, and she made a point of ordering enough to leave some with Derek so he could reheat it the next day, even if Stiles had some.

Adding a Cesar salad for herself, Allison brought the order right over to Dimera Apartments, humming to herself as she took the elevator up...

...only to find another person heading for Derek and Stiles' apartment with a bag in his hand.

"...Sheriff Stilinski?"

Al turned away from where he was fishing for his keys, blinking in surprise at the sight of a red-faced Allison Argent toting her own takeout bag and sporting an expression he was pretty sure matched his.

"Allison? What're you doing here?" he asked incredulously.

"Having the same idea you did, from the looks of it." Allison grinned, moving towards him to offer a careful hug in greeting. "Chicken soup?"

"Chicken and rice, actually...there's a little sandwich shop down the street from the station..."

Allison dissolved into giggles, rolling her eyes as Al grinned, finally locating his keys to let them both into the apartment.

"Derek?" Allison called as Al ushered her in ahead of him, taking her bag of food off her hands and pointing to Derek's bedroom so she could wasn't over and knock on the door jamb. "You up?"

Allison had to go back to work and school tomorrow, and she was terrified.

Since the morning she'd woken up as a werewolf, Allison hadn't spoken to a soul. She'd skipped school and work, claiming she was sick, and stayed in her apartment, trying to get a grip on what was happening. She'd told no one, though she was fairly certain Stiles knew because of Derek, and anyone Stiles might have told.

She didn't actually care who knew, she just worried they would come try to check on her, and she wasn't going to see anyone until she had a grip on this...an anchor she could rely on.

Derek was the only person she'd seen, the only one she trusted. The wolf was angry, even hurting, making her half crazy as she fought the urge to go see Derek and Stiles, to find Scott or Melissa or the sheriff...she even had to stop herself from calling Newt or Kate, or go looking for Jason...

The wolf wanted pack, but most of her pack was human, and the rest (i.e., Scott), she wouldn't allow herself to hurt, no matter if it could be endured. She ached for them, a soul-deep hurt to seek them out and lose herself in the safety of being near them, but she couldn't trust herself not to lash out. She had no idea what she would do around people, and after that first night...no, Derek was her alpha. He could stop her, and as much as it rankled to be so dependent on anyone, just knowing he was there, a phone call or a howl away soothed her wolf enough to keep control.

But...she had to go back to work, and to school, and she had been struggling for two days to find her anchor. She didn't think it was inside her, but she was terrified to look beyond herself for anything. She couldn't even look to be her own anchor, because she was the one person in the world she absolutely did not trust.

Allison finally decided she had to try something, so she compromised with the two halves of herself: she went to the park.

It was relatively quiet, and being out under the open sky, with the grass and the trees, made the wolf happier. She could feel it, a knot loosening deep within as she breathed in the dirt and leaves, the scent of a gopher burrowing just below the earth and people halfway across the park, a mixture of soaps and colognes and individual bodies that made her a little bit sick if she focused too hard. That much she had discovered: she could dull her hearing if she wasn't concentrating too hard on any one thing, and if she regulated her breathing, she could handle the scents until she found one to focus on.

Finding a relatively deserted patch of grass under a large oak tree, Allison sat cross-legged on the grass, dressed for a workout in sneakers, black leggings, and a sports bra under a loose grey t-shirt with a wide collar that hung off one shoulder. Pulling her hair back off her neck into a messy knot atop her head, she settled in comfortably and looked around for a moment, taking in the people around her...distant, at least a few dozen yards all around, but there. The wolf didn't seem to mind...even when she pulled voices out of the crowd, honed in on the scent of citrus shampoo on the blonde man who was walking his dog, or the vanilla clinging to the two women pushing strollers along a paved path, the wolf was simply there, growling peevishly in the back of her mind and growing restless for pack once again.

So far, so good.

Shutting her eyes, Allison took a few deep breaths to center herself. She knew some very rudimentary meditation techniques, collected during her archery lessons over the years to improve focus and concentration. She'd added a few during her summer in France, and she was hoping a little discipline might help her get a handle on the wolf. If she couldn't find an anchor, then damn it, she was going to cage the bitch up.

And if she couldn't...then she was going to ask Derek to lock her up until he either did what she wanted, or...

Pushing that dark thought from her head, Allison focused on relaxing. She tried to still her thoughts, to find a calm place within filled with white noise and breath. Focusing, she allowed the world to narrow to just that: air in, air out, nothing but the beat of her heart and the draw of air into her lungs.

The twig snapped behind her, and it rang out like a shot in her ears.

Heart racing, she lost control and twisted around, rolling fluidly to a predator's crouch, claws buried in the dirt and coiled to spring. Her eyes were wild, lupine gold as her lips peeled back from her teeth in a low, warning growl as the wolf prepared to fight...and the girl fought as hard as she could to freeze, to wait, to see the threat before she ended up killing someone.

(Either find Allison during a lull in her meditation, or be the poor sucker that was unlucky enough to sneak up on her from behind. Either way, werewolf Allison is a werewolf. Tag, play, profit! Open until plot's end. :P)

Current Mood: cranky

Allison was crouched in an alley, blood on her hands for the second time in at least two weeks...and this time, she was well and truly terrified.

Somewhere during the chaos of the storm, the sudden onslaught of noise and scent and violence, she'd lost track of her surroundings as she ran away, far away, as far as her new strength and speed could carry her. She could have found her way...a tilt of her head, a flare of her nostrils, even now she was certain of the trail she could follow to go home or go someplace where she could hunt...but she couldn't move. She couldn't allow herself to move.

In the dark, a rat was skittering through some trash. Bugs crawled, moths fluttered...in the distance, people talked, milled, shrieked. They were all right there, right in front of her, in her lungs and in her ears...

Prey.

Shutting her eyes tight...gold eyes, she'd checked, that meant she hadn't killed the passerby she'd attacked once she had changed...Allison balled herself up tighter as the urges clawed at her insides, hot and angry. The blood on her hands wasn't enough, and the claws that tipped each finger wouldn't go away. The fangs that filled her mouth were sharp and hungry, and the other changes...

She'd already seen the monster in a car window when she'd looked into her own eyes, already knowing, but needing to be sure she wasn't without hope. If she could hide, if she could stay still, if she could shrink up small and cold enough that nobody would find her, maybe she wouldn't kill anyone.

A scent touched her nose. It could have been right there, the smell of something...

Food. Prey. Her mind, her instincts couldn't tell the difference between the people on the street and the smell of some distant meal cooking in a small, warm home filled with light and people...bodies, meat, quarry waiting to be taken. She didn't know how to shut it off.

The whimper that ripped from her throat wasn't human as she pressed her head to her knees, balling up tighter still. The urge to move was strong, overpowering. She wanted to run, she wanted to hunt...

She wanted her pack.

Only then did she remember Scott's roar. The human part of her mind, the rational part she feared even more than the wolf that had been shoved into her skin without permission, remembered his roar, and what it had done to Isaac, to Malia. It ripped the beast out of Isaac, but they saved Malia.

Not Scott.

All at once, the urge to run stilled inside her. Instead, the instinct seemed to settle in her chest, gathering in a knot that made it hard to breathe. The wolf knew what to do, the wolf knew how to help.

The wolf...the thing she was so terrified of...could save her.

Uncurling just a little, Allison tipped her head up towards the sky. She caught the scent of people again, people and prey, but she could stand it. A little longer, she could resist it.

The knot in her chest shattered like glass as Allison threw her head back and howled for her Alpha.

Current Mood: scared

{Takes place day after Allison's mugging, during work hours. Obviously.}

Homework? Done.

Studying? Done.

Office internet? Not monitored...well, not monitored in terms of employee productivity.

That meant, thanks to a slow afternoon at the lab, Allison had more than an hour before her dinner break to surf the web. She started by spending about twenty minutes checking out the new weekly ad for the sporting goods store, hoping the Gerber knife she wanted would be on sale, and possibly some new arrowheads. However, she hadn't actually seen Jason yet, so she made herself get off the website, because she wasn't going to go shopping for a date she hadn't even made. First she had to ask him out, then she could pretty up her armory.

That left only one thing to draw her attention away from flogging herself over the stupid lapse of judgment that had left her with a split lip, a raw patch on her cheek, and heavy shadows on one side of her face, the darkest of the bruises even a fresh dose of concealer couldn't completely hide.

By the time her break came, not only had she been on wedding sites for over forty five minutes, but she even had some stuff to share with Newt about possibilities for proposing. She knew he was scheduled to work that day, but hadn't seen him as of yet. She used the time to print a few things (which turned into a thick stack she tried to hide from Mrs. Livingston by sticking it in a binder) and categorize them, pausing only briefly when a resident nuclear chemist asked her to pull up some research logs from the month before.

"Mrs. Livingston? I'm on break!" Allison called to the older woman as she passed when the time came, discreetly tugging her wedding binder against her chest as she rose from her desk. "I'm heading out to get some food, I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Are you sure, sweetheart? You never go out when Dr. Geiszler's here, and I don't want you on your own if you can help it, not after what happened!"

Allison frowned curiously, even as she smiled. "When did he get in?"

"About half an hour ago...while you were in archives pulling those logs for Dr. Barnam."

Allison's smile grew. "I didn't see him...in that case, I'm ordering in. You want anything?"

Ten minutes later, Allison had ordered food from the deli a few blocks from the lab, and was bouncing up to the entry of his lab. Seeing no sign of an experiment in progress, and satisfied he was alone, she swiped her keycard to let herself in, her binder clutched tightly to her chest as she trotted in, briefly forgetting how bad she still looked from the night before.

"I've been on the internet!" she singsonged, striding up to his work station and plunking down her binder in front of him. "I know it's a little early for wedding stuff...but I have wedding stuff. And some proposal stuff. And I ordered dinner from the deli, you're sharing with me. Obnoxious little sister has spoken."

"I'm so sorry to have to ask you to stay late, Allison..."

Allison smiled, typing out a couple more words before saving the document she was working on, then leaning over to retrieve the USB drive from her computer that she'd used to save it. "It's no problem, Mrs. Livingston. It all worked out: my best friend happens to be into thermodynamics so I'm familiar with some of the terminology, Dr. Kyle won't lose any time reviewing his lab data for tomorrow's experiment...and Sally will never eat day old chicken salad ever again, so she won't miss work due to food poisoning."

Turning in her chair, she handed the USB drive to Mrs. Livingston brightly. "And the overtime I just clocked will be a nice contribution to the Buy Allison A New Car fund."

Mrs. Livingston accepted the drive, her smile dimming with concern. "I do wish you'd let me drive you home. It's awfully late."

"I promise, I'm fine." Allison insisted as she rolled back from her desk just enough to retrieve her purse from her desk drawer, along with her History book. "The bus stop is only at the end of the street, it's well lit, and I have people I can call if I get nervous near my building."

The older lady continued to frown and fret as she peered at Allison over her wire-rimmed glasses, but she finally accepted Allison's reassurances that she would be fine. She was a kind woman, and actually pretty normal for being a local. Allison liked her a lot, and was always warmed by her grandmotherly concern, however unwarranted.

Working at Darrow Amalgamated was one of the best things to ever happen to Allison. It gave her a use for some of the technobabble she'd absorbed from Lydia through osmosis over the time they'd known each other, her supervisor was a nice older lady, and her co-workers were awesome...especially a certain rock star scientist she got to see on a regular basis. The pay was also pretty good for a clerical position, and though this was only the second time she'd ever been asked to say late and get some overtime, it was completely worth it...and needed to happen more often if she was ever going to afford a car.

After swearing one final time to call her if she had any trouble in the next hour and needed that lift, Allison left the office. It was already after nine, but her homework was done, she didn't have any tests to study for until Monday, and Mrs. Livingston had ordered dinner for the two of them from an awesome little deli a few blocks away, so she could go home, do some stretching, and watch TV until she was tired enough to fall asleep.

She was halfway to her bus stop when she became aware of a presence at her back, something tickling between her shoulderblades with a sick sense of foreboding. Reaching into her purse, her fingers curled around her keys...and the can of mace on her keyring. She had her usual knives on her, the byrd in the waistband of her skirt and the Spyderco clipped to the middle of her bra, easily accessible under the v-neck top she'd worn that day, but her instincts were different now: nonlethal force before lethal. The mace would keep her safe, and she wouldn't have to kill anyone.

Then again, maybe she was being paranoid again. She'd been doing that a lot.

She got a few more feet down the street before she heard a footfall. Her heart picked up a beat as she glanced back over her shoulder.

Someone was walking down the street behind her.

Allison couldn't make out any details, save that he was male, and stopped just beyond the streetlight to look at something on his cell phone, preventing her from seeing his face even in the dull glow of his phone screen. He was stooping, so she couldn't judge his height properly...at this distance, she couldn't even look at his shoes ("If you can't see an attacker's face, look at his shoes. They can be just as distinctive right after an assault." Her father's voice rang in her ears, heavy with warning, years before she would fear a mugger or a rapist less than the kids she went to school with.).

Feeling a familiar cold, steely hardness settle in her chest, making her feel strangely light and nearly invincible, Allison slid her hand out of her purse as she turned back around, and reached up as if to fiddle with a necklace while she walked...reaching into the collar of her shirt for the knife tucked securely against her heart.

The bus stop was well it, as she'd promised Mrs. Livingston, but deserted. The man was approaching as she leaned against the back of the bus bench rather than sitting on it. Her knife was tucked into her palm, and her free hand was back in her purse, searching for her phone.

She was being paranoid. The guy wasn't necessarily out to get her. She had no proof...just a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sense of foreboding that made her wonder if Derek could hear her scream this far out, if she could call out the way a wolf could for pack...

I can handle this. I'm not helpless.

She was still trying to talk herself out of using her cell phone, maybe calling Derek or Mrs. Livingston, being safe instead of ready for a change when a hand grabbed her upper arm, dragging her out of the safety of the pool of light around the bus stop.

Allison tried to use the attacker's momentum against him, throwing herself in the direction she was being dragged, hoping to take him to the ground, but instead she found herself slamming hard against the side of the building behind the bus stop, hard enough to knock the wind out of her in a brutal rush. Dizzy with a lack of air, she lost her bearings as she was pressed back against rough stucco, the grit of it digging painfully into her back and her ass through the thin material of her shirt and fashionable skater skirt.

Still seeing stars, Allison clung to her knife as hard as she could, blindly lashing out with one leg to stomp on her attacker's foot, then brought her knee up where she hoped his groin would be. She missed his groin, but only because she nailed his foot, making him double over briefly in pain. As she fought to suck in air, finally getting half a decent breath in, Allison flipped her knife open and lunged, putting all her weight into driving the knife deep into her attacker's belly.

Before she could jerk up and twist for the killing blow, a meaty hand struck her across the face, sending her flying to the side. Dimly, she could now gauge his height at about six foot even, but through the flare of pain against her cheek and jaw that she knew would bruise, and might even lead to a concussion, she couldn't gauge much more than that.

She was on the ground, on her side, struggling for air and fighting the darkness threatening her vision. She couldn't scream, and she wasn't totally sure she could see straight enough to try throwing the one knife she still had.

She had one choice left if she didn't want to get killed, or worse.

Ignoring the fact that her hands were tacky with the blood of her attacker, Allison managed to get her purse strap looped over her head and let it drop, hoping he would be more interested in her money than her as she tried to get to her feet so she could run back towards the lab.

Current Mood: scared

Allison's shopping trip had provided more than a little motivation to work on...well, everything. Shooting, training, everything. She had her bow back, and even though she'd laid it aside for so long, picking it back up again only when she was learning to hunt, it really felt like she'd restored a missing limb. Even when she gave it up, she'd always been able to shoot just because she wanted to, it had always been there...

With Newt doing better physically, at least from what she'd seen at the barbecue, she'd been inspired to pick up something for him in particular while still at the sporting goods store. She thought it over a little, then sent him a text a day later, after exhausting herself pleasantly with hours out on the edges of the city, shooting arrows at targets taped to trees, so blissfully wiped out she was grinning as she finally went to sleep that night.

Buzz me if you're free tomorrow night. It's time to begin your training, young Skywalker.

Newt's response not only made her giggle, but was in the affirmative. She began planning his first self defense lesson immediately...and the more she planned, the more she realized that it might not hurt to have some help. Someone he could spar with that had a slight advantage, to help him feel more confident as he learned how to fight and use his smaller size to his benefit...someone he knew even better than he knew her, someone he trusted...

The idea niggled at her until the next afternoon. During lunch at school, she finally broke down and made the call.

"...Derek? Hi, it's Allison...no no, everything's fine! Everything's okay, is--is this a bad time?...good. Listen, are you free tonight? I'm doing something for Newt, and I could use a hand..."

After a brief conversation with Derek and a few texts sent to Newt, they agreed to meet at a local gym, some kind of boxing club where they could have some mats set up, the works. Newt had been warned to dress in comfortable clothing, and Allison had stopped by her place to change into leggings and a sports bra, throwing a loose t-shirt on over it before heading over to the club.

She tried to get there before the guys did, hoping to stake out some space and maybe stretch before they showed up. Dropping her bag in the corner by the mats, Allison knelt to pull out her water bottle, her towel...and the item she'd purchased with Newt in mind.

Setting the rubber knife on the mat beside her gym bag, she headed for the middle of the corner she'd commandeered and parked herself on the floor with a soft grunt, stretching her legs out in front of her and bending to grab her heels, relishing the stretch in her lower back and torso as her forehead touched her knees.