Garrison/Adrienne at Harry's

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Adrienne, 0. Garrison, 0. Awkwardness, 8. Frustration, 111. Anger, 837 4/9ths. Understanding, -3.

Harry's was packed when Adrienne plodded in, wanting nothing more than a beer and a quiet place to watch some baseball. When she saw the crowd and began to absorb the noise she nearly turned around, walked out to grab a six pack from the beer vendor and return to the mansion, but the sight of Garrison on a barstool had her sighing and stepping up to the bar. She figured that it was better to face him in a public place, and that now was as good a time as any.

She ordered a pint of Moosehead and turned towards the stool-perched form of Garrison. "Umm... hey... can-can I sit here?" she asked nervously, indicating the stool next to him.

"Legally, yes. But I have to go find a booth in the next county in order to avoid breaking the law." He said without turning his head. 

"You don't," she said quietly. "It's been lifted." She hesitated on the sitting down part, considering running out the door, but knew that things weren't going to get any easier the longer she put off the confrontation. "Soooo, umm, can I just say," she murmured, sitting down, "I was stupid, it was wrong, I regret it, and I'm sorry?"

Kane took a sip from his pint and sighed. "Really? You think after a year, just coming in and saying you're sorry is going to make everything better? Fine, apology accepted." He turned back to the television.

"No, of course I don't think that," she assured him quietly. "But I had to start somewhere. I just... can't think of anything to say to make everything better. How do I make this better, y'know? Everything's so totally fucked up, and it's all my fault. But I want to. I want to make everything better, because I fucked everything up so fucking bad..." A lump had come to her throat, so she tried to wash it down with beer.

"Yeah, well, I don't know how to make everything better, Adrienne. I don't even know if things can be made better. I spent a year trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me that would make you leave without saying a goddamn word! I mean, I've been dumped before, but you managed to go right to the top ten in one jump, lady." Garrison's voice jumped slightly, although fortunately because of the noise in the bar, no one really noticed. "And now you ambush me here, of all places, and in front of dozens of people, tell me, oh, now you want to make it all better. You know what would have made it better? If you had thought about in the first place, and not a year later."

Adrienne bit her lip, determined not to cry. "I didn't... I didn't mean to ambush you. I-I'm sorry. I just, it's been so long, I didn't want to wait any longer... but you're right, I shouldn't have come. I... Christ, you think something was wrong with you?" she asked suddenly, incredulous, though she kept her tone level. "Jesus, I didn't leave because something was wrong with you. I left because they said they'd kill you if I didn't. If I even told you, they were going to kill you. I never wanted to leave you, though." She found herself laughing wryly. "I left because I'm in love with you, and I didn't want you to be killed, which is what they were gonna do to you if I stayed."

"Kill me? Who? The fucking Hellfire Club? That group of leather perverts couldn't touch me in their wildest dreams. Kill an FBI agent? The parts Duncan couldn't get to, Colcord and the X-Men could. You know that." He leveled a finger at her. "Everything we've been through, and you never even thought to tell me? You just ran at the first threat and did what they wanted? Bull."

"Right," Adrienne muttered into her beer, "I forgot. You have your own opinions on how everything in the world works and nothing ever runs contrary to your beliefs." She let out a sad, defeated sigh, because she knew there was nothing she could say to change his mind about the Hellfire Club. But she couldn't <i>not</i> try. "I suppose there's not even any point in telling you that the Hellfire Club has connections and power beyond anything you or the FBI could muster, because you believe you can beat them, so nothing I can say will convince you otherwise, right?" 

She drained more of her beer and continued in the sad, quiet, level tone she couldn't seem to break out of. "If you want to believe I ran at the first threat, believe it. I can only say I was terrified so many times, so I might as well just say it all once and let you believe what you want. The FBI can't touch them. I tried. I thought of the FBI, I thought of the Trenchcoats... No one can touch them. I tried to find some way, something to take to the FBI to take them down so I could come back to you. But they're too powerful. They've used their connections to destroy my business in a matter of minutes... something I worked my entire life to build. It's all gone and there's nothing anyone can do about it, because they're too powerful. I've never been so terrified of anyone before- even my husband- as I am of Jason Wyngarde hurting you. He arranged the fire that nearly killed you, and he could have arranged a hundred more. And yet if you believe he couldn't touch you in his wildest dreams, I don't know how to convince you otherwise.

"But you thought I left because there was something wrong with <i>you?</i>" she repeated. That earned a watery laugh. "I suppose it never even occurred to you that I left because I wanted to protect you... that... that I'd never leave unless something was so totally fucking wrong that there was nothing..." The lump in her throat was back with a vengeance so she had to stop and drink some more. "You think I'm some sort of... person who just... leaves people... I thought you knew me, I thought you'd know that I would never have left if I thought I could do anything..." She shook her head. "The old Adrienne, sure. She would have left when she got bored, or when one of those little puffy clouds obscured the sun for a moment. But the person you helped me become... you thought I'd just leave you when that cloud came by? I wouldn't. I would have waited it out. But it wasn't a puffy cloud, it was the fucking apocolypse- a tornado, a monsoon, a hurricane all in one. I couldn't find another way to protect you except by leaving. I thought you could understand that. Is there any way you could believe that?" she asked, wiping at her eyes as she still refused to let herself cry.

"You don't get to drop that on me. Not here." Kane shot back angrily. "I thought we were together. You and I. And instead of telling me what was going on, or seeing if there was another solution, you decided what was best for us. And you slapped a restraining order on top of it so I got to spend a year in the dark. Maybe there wasn't another solution, but that was something we should have decided together." He stepped off his stool and tossed a couple of bills down on the bar. "Enjoy your beer."

"Oh Christ, don't leave. I'll leave," she snapped, tossing her own bills down on the bar. "Look, I get it, okay?" She went back to the depressed-but-calm tone. "I fucked up monumentally, because that's what I always do. And you're going to need a lot of time to yell, and be really, really pissed at me, and feel everything you have every right to feel. And I want to give you that time, I do. I want to give you all the time in the world, because I understand how badly I screwed up, I get that I hurt you and I did everything wrong because I never knew how to do anything right when it came to us being together, so God knows I deserve whatever I have coming to me. 

"But you're right, this isn't the place. So I'll leave. The bar, I mean," she corrected hurriedly, "I'll leave the bar, and go back to the mansion. But I'm not leaving the mansion. Except for like, food or whatever. But I'm not going anywhere, so maybe when you've, y'know, had time to process things, if you decide you want to yell at me some more, you can find me. I'll be around. Because I'm never leaving again. And hey, at least whatever you have to say to me can't make me feel worse than I've made myself feel since I left, so, y'know, be sure to bring your A game when you yell. And hey, don't let my beer go to waste, yeah?"

She took a final sip of her beer and slunk away, huffing out a breath. Something Vanessa had once told her rang in her head in that moment. That no one was worth the effort if, in the end, they didn't give a shit about the hell you were willing to go through just to try and protect them. She really hoped that Garrison wouldn't prove that saying right, that he was worth the effort, because she had been through hell to protect him, and the hell wasn't over now that she was back. This was gonna take monumental effort, she realized. She'd underestimated Amanda's comment about how Garrison would piss and moan, but she knew she had to give him time, so she would regroup and see what their next encounter brought. The mansion was only so big, after all, so there had to be a next encounter. Even if he didn't want to see her, they essentially lived together, and she had no intention of hiding from him now that she didn't have to.