Doug and Adrienne at Finnegan's (backdated to last night)

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Doug and Adrienne run into each other and talk some baseball, as well as commisserate over how the Black Court has screwed with their lives.

For a change of scenery, Adrienne was drinking at Finnegan's tonight instead of Harry's. She was staying at Vanessa's place in District X, since it brought about no irritating memories the way the mansion did, which meant Finnegan's was closer as a watering hole. Sitting at a booth nursing a glass of red wine, she toyed with her silver lighter, pondering going outside for a cigarette against the fact that she was once again trying to quit. Flame, closed, open, flame, closed, open, flame... she thought to herself absentmindedly, before the crack of a ball against a bat had her whipping her head towards one of the televisions in the bar. Who was even playing? she thought to herself, not even having paid much attention to baseball lately.

Doug stepped through the door, intent on an after-work drink, as well
as some casual watching of baseball. If the Rockies were playing,
he'd probably get someone to change the channel to their game, but
with his team firmly in the middle of the pack, it wasn't as though he
had to hang off of every pitch, so he'd likely just watch whoever was
playing. He spotted Adrienne quickly, and raised an eyebrow before
heading over to sit across from her. "Fancy meeting you here," he
said with a small smile.

"Hello," Adrienne said happily, smiling back, glad for the distraction from her thoughts. "I'm avoiding the mansion and Harry's, so I seem to have found myself here," she said by way of explanation. "Not quite as good as Baked, but Hellabuns don't seem to make me drunk so I figured Finnegan's was where I wanted to be. What brings you here?"

"A little after-work drink and maybe some casual baseball watching,
since my Rockies can't even seem to manage a .500 record, much less
anything close to a pennant race." He stuck his tongue out and made a
face expressing what he thought of his home team's current situation.
"Avoiding the mansion and drinking alone?" he asked solicitously.
"You doing okay?"

"I feel bad for you, but hey, you can always jump on the Red Sox Nation bandwagon," she grinned, "we happily take converts, especially during pennant races and World Series Championships." She wrinkled her nose in response to his questions. "Well, the Black Court was using me like a puppet and threatened to kill Garrison if I didn't comply with their every whim, so I was in forced solitude for more than a year, and when Emma got me out I came home to find out that not only is my best friend missing, but the man I love, the man I did the forced solitude and being used like a puppet to keep safe for, hates me with a fiery passion. I'm doing great. But hey, the upside of it all is, I'm in the White Court now!"

Doug blew a raspberry. "Unless you're from Boston these days, jumping
on the Red Sox bandwagon is like being only slightly less of a 'ooh,
I'm gonna go with the popular team that wins' than the Yankees. Too
many people on the bandwagon just because they win." Doug clearly had
some firm opinions on the subject of bandwagondom. "I'd rather see my
team through thick and thin than be fair-weather, y'know?"

His expression sobered at the litany of what Adrienne had been through
in the past year. The Hellfire courts, for all their preference for
acting circuitously and through catspaws, played a rough game.
"You're not the only one the Black Court has leaned on," he murmured,
remembered pain in his eyes. "And not even the only one they leaned
on through a sister."

Adrienne made a face at Doug's raspberry. "Fine," she smirked, "it's not like we need any more fans anyway." She understood team loyalty, though, so she hoped Doug knew she was joking. "That's one less person I have to fight for seats at the playoffs. Especially now that I've lost my box at Fenway."

She sipped at her wine as she absorbed what he was telling her about the Black Court. "Your sister? Shit, I'm sorry. I... I guess I should have known better than to have believed that joining the White Court really would be enough to protect the people in my life." That gave her a moment of pause. Maybe it was better that Garrison seemed to hate her. At least he'd stay safe that way. "What... what happened to your sister?"

"She was abducted by a guy who thought he could use her to get in cozy
with Shaw." Doug's hands curled tightly around his glass, just shy of
the amount of pressure that might crack it. "I..." He almost wanted
to tell Adrienne what Emma had done at his suggestion, to have some
sort of...confession, to ease the guilt he still felt for it. "She
transferred to someplace...as far away from me as she could get."

Adrienne gave Doug her best sympathetic look and took a sip of her wine to steady the nerves that had cropped up when she'd started to realize that while the rules of the Inner Courts might protect her and the people in her life, it didn't extend to crazies who wanted to 'get in cozy' with them. Another reason to adhere to Emma's warning about being used by people. "That's extremely shitty," was all she could think of to say. "You seem like you've had just as shitty a year as I have, between the Hellfire Club fucking with you and being... left behind by Marie-Ange."

"It hasn't been hugs and puppies, for sure," Doug replied sourly.
"She left me a 'dear john' letter before going to New Orleans for
something like eight months. And then, y'know, without warning, she's
back." To say that things between the pair had been strained since
then was a wild understatement.

This time, Adrienne didn't change the subject to remind Doug that he had a new girlfriend now so it had all been for the best. She sipped at her wine and muttered "wow, you and Garrison should start a club or something," not realizing the similarities in their circumstances until now. "Was she also trying to keep you from being killed when she left, the way I was with Garrison?"

Doug's expression had a core of obvious self-mocking. "Considering
there's a price on my head with the Assassin's Guild in New Orleans?
Maybe. Of course, the reason for the price on my head is also the
reason Marie-Ange and I weren't on the best of terms when she left."

"Assassin's Guild? Okay, this requires more explanation," Adrienne demanded. "All Marie-Ange told me was that she was being deliberately vague about it, but that it involved her learning how to kill people."

Leaning back and staring at the ceiling seemed like the best way to
Doug to gather his thoughts and assess what exactly to tell Adrienne.
After a bit, he decided what the hell. She'd taken her own licks, and
been honest about them, the least he could do was the same.

"The price on my head is due to the fact that Gambit's ex-wife," he
stressed the name, distinguishing Remy from his former identity as a
killer, "was made Black Queen. And since she's anathema to the
Guilds, anyone offering her shelter gets a death mark." He drew idle
patterns on the table with his finger as he explained, eyes locked on
Adrienne's. "Now, the reason Emma agreed to Belladonna as Black Queen
was as part of a deal that killed Selene, for good this time. Selene
had tried to possess Meggan to get power back, but when she looked to
Shaw to back her, she got shot by Belladonna instead."

He blew out a long breath. "The only problem with all of that was
that everyone felt like I'd chosen Emma and the White Court over the
team." In a lot of cases, he was -still- trying to repair those
bridges, and his expression showed how much it still hurt.

"So Marie-Ange moved out of our apartment and stayed with Amanda for a
while, and then one day she just left, with a 'dear john' letter for
me, and she went to New Orleans. There was some precog thing, where
we couldn't follow her, or we'd all die." Doug's eyes flashed with
dark humor. "Some of us quicker than others, given the price on
Emma's and my heads. Anyway, she spent that time in training with the
Assassin's Guild, killed a man who apparently had to die, and then
just showed back up here in New York with Amanda and Remy."

He drummed his fingers against the table. "And that's the Reader's
Digest version of crap that went down while you were away."

"Wait, so when you say 'everyone' felt like you'd chosen the White Court over 'the team', are you talking about the Assassin's Guild, or the Trenchcoats? Does that mean the Trenchcoats are allied with this Guild?" Adrienne asked. There was no sort of judgment in her voice, just curiosity. "I only ask because if being in the White Court means that now a guild of assassins is going to team up with the Trenchcoats, many of whom are my friends, to have me killed, I might have to consider switching sides."

Doug shook his head. "Okay, both the Guild and the Trenchcoats. But
the Trenchcoats aren't really allied with the Guilds. And it's just
Emma and me." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And it's not like I
have some chop-socky 'assassins attacking me all the time' thing going
on. It's really just New Orleans I have to stay away from."

"Well, that's good to know," Adrienne muttered, though she was far from happy even if it was just Emma and Doug who were under threat from the Guild. "So is Marie-Ange still technically a member of the Guild, or strictly a Trenchcoat again?"

"You'd have to ask her." The likelihood of Doug broaching that topic
leading to yet another round of awkward hurt feelings on someone's
part approached unity, he estimated.

Adrienne let out an 'I see' type of noise and sipped at her wine again. "So, the two of you aren't really talking?" She let out a sigh. "That's not exactly giving me a lot of hope that Garrison and I are going to patch things up anytime soon."

Doug shook his head. "Don't judge your relationships by the standards
of others," he suggested. "Marie-Ange and I...well, we've been down
this road before." He remembered all too vividly the screaming match
in the lobby of the mansion before they had joined the X-Force team.
"Every relationship is different, though. You aren't Marie-Ange, and
Garrison isn't me."

"If he was, you'd probably have stormed off ages ago, or at least be yelling at me right now." She pushed hair back from her face as she let out a sigh. "I fucked things up so bad with him, Doug. He's so angry he won't even be in the same building with me, let alone let me try and talk to him. It's as if my leaving turned him into this whole other person... one I don't even know. The guy I fell in love with I could actually talk to. He listened to me and discussed things reasonably with me. And he believed in me." She bit her lip. "I lost that, and I don't know how to get it back. I just know I want to."

Toying with her wineglass, she stared at the table, not having intended to say any of that out loud and now being embarrassed by it. "Crap, sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that. 'Was holding on to it for too long, I guess; it just sort of leaked out."

"It's fine," Doug reassured her. "I mean, I just vomited up a year or
so of my own drama on you, the least I can do is be a listening ear in
return for you."

"I appreciate it," Adrienne grinned, tipping her wine glass towards Doug in a salute. "It's nice to have someone listen when I vomit," she giggled. "And I'm happy to do the same for you in return, of course. We've both had pretty dramatic years, haven't we? Still, it's nice to be back at the mansion, feel useful again."

"I think saying that we've both had dramatic years is an
understatement," Doug said with a snicker, clinking his glass against
Adrienne's. He was definitely starting to feel the alcohol, which was
nice, as it helped to take the sharpness away from some of the
difficult subjects they'd both been covering. "Useful is good, but
here's hoping you get a little more than that." Just utility wasn't
enough to keep a person from despair, he'd found.

"What more is there to life than being useful, Douglas?" Adrienne asked curiously. She thought she knew what he meant, but wanted confirmation. She'd been living her entire life to be useful, respected. And just when she'd started to believe that there was more than that out there, she'd screwed up. Now she wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Friends. Loved ones. People who will help you through the hard
times. If all there is to life is being useful, then we might as well
just be robots." He'd tried it, but discovered that he needed the
connections with friends. And thankfully, he hadn't driven them all
completely away in the process.

Polishing off the rest of her glass of wine, Adrienne laughed wryly. "Well, robots scare the shit out of me, so I don't think that's gonna work. I don't want to be one."

"You're not the only one."