callmeemily | BACKDATED (for Fabrice, dated to Aug 21, 9:30PM)

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fabrice

BACKDATED (for Fabrice, dated to Aug 21, 9:30PM)

This is third date that Raleigh had been on in the last week. It's the third, including one where the guy was sort of skeezy and Raleigh was definitely never seeing him again, one that was literally the most boring man alive that Joel set her up on... and now, this.

This, where Raleigh's leaning against the bar with a drink in her hand, looking up at the very handsome guy who actually wrote her a decent message on OKCupid. His name was Richard, he was a Pieces, was here because he wanted to get away from the city, he was thinking about buying a house on the water, he was a writer - all normal, touristy things that she's used too.

He declined to mention that he's reporting on the Coombs, and he's found another side story.

Still, he's cute, and Raleigh knows that she needs to at least try, and her eyes wander across the bar before she realises he's talking to her, and her eyes snap back to him.

"What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you." More that he was boring, but--

"I was saying- you know Corrine Flynn, don't you? I've seen you two around."

Raleigh smiles without thinking. She knows Corry, and she nods as she takes another sip of her drink. "We're- We're friends," she says with a smile and a shrug of her shoulders. She has no idea how, exactly, they had been through what they had and ended up friends, but they were, and she's glad.

"Did you know her before?" Richard's looking at her with a little more intensity now, and Raleigh's brows furrow a little bit, confused.

"Before? Before what?" It sounds normal, that question, but Raleigh's mind jumps to one thing. One thing it could be before, and she tenses up without realising it.

"I read in the paper. Did you know her before that happened? It was horrible, wasn't it?"

"I-"

"Did she confide in you? I imagine she must have, given what you went through. Do you resent her? She wasn't hurt the way you were, and she's not the one who paid off your hospital bills."

"What?" Raleigh's voice rose. "What is your problem? This- This is not something that's open for discussion!" She's staring at him, and it's all she can do not to slap him right now, but he just keeps asking. He keeps asking, and Raleigh's voice gets even louder. "Stop it! Stop, I'm not answering you!"

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Fabrice, in the midst of the media circus surrounding his life, currently, has managed to find his way into a bar stool for a quick drink. One beer, one of the local flavors, and he's paying the bill, leaving a generous tip for the bartender, when a commotion from the other side of the bar catches his attention. He narrows his eyes to get a better look, for the woman currently speaking certainly sounds like Raleigh.

Then she raises her voice, and, hearing the content of it, Fabrice knows it's her. He briskly walks over to her area of the bar, where he finds a handsome man harassing her; a handsome man, he realizes, belongs to the paparazzi. Anger builds in him like overcooked water; how dare some ass of a man hound Raleigh with questions about her experience. How dare he try and use a date to manipulate answers out of her.

Just before he reaches them, he watches the man's hand close around Raleigh's wrist. He doesn't hesitate, he just puts hand over the man's and pulls him off, roughly. His expression is still yet dangerous, like the quiet water of a pond before a pebble disrupts its peace.

"She told you to stop," he growls. "If you have any decency in you, you'd damn well listen."

Raleigh's face has lost all it's color, and she's hyper aware of just how many people are staring as Richard - now she doesn't even know if that's his name - continues. Needling questions about who payed her hospital bills, about Corry, about Les, about Corry's involvement with the cruise, about-- everything.

When she'd gone to leave is when he grabbed her, and suddenly, without any warning, Fabrice is there. He's just there, and Raleigh stares at Richard, at Fabrice, even as Richard's voice rises - but he's still talking to Raleigh. "You're involved with the Coombs family? What, is he your boyfriend?" Looking back at Fabrice, he just plowed forward. "How do you feel about her kidnapping? There are rumors about the men she lives with, do you know about them?"

Raleigh can't even find words, besides moving closer to Fabrice. "Fabrice, please. This isn't worth it, he-"

But then he brought up Joel and Spencer, and she just stopped. "No. No, they have nothing to do with this. Why are you doing this?!"

Richard smirked - he'd found his in, he'd thought. "Gossip mill says that one of them was taken away from a party by the police. You have an issue with your girlfriend living with two criminals, Mr. Coombs?"

Two criminals. Two. She knows what he's talking about, and it's obvious that she's getting upset. "They're not-"

"Or is it just that she's living with two men? What would that mean to the Coombs name?"

Richard talked so fast, so quickly and so loudly that you couldn't get a word in edgewise, establishing things as fact even though they weren't. His tone is clear - he's implying that Raleigh's sleeping with Spencer and Joel, which is possibly the most laughable concept, if it wasn't coming from this guy.

"She has nothing to do with my family's crap, so leave her out of it," he retorts, stepping right into the man's space to block him from Raleigh. "If you're looking for a scoop on my family, you can talk to me." Fabrice's nails curl against the skin of his hands as he tries to keep himself from punching the smug grin off the asshole's face. "And sorry to disappoint, but I'm not feeling particularly chatty today."

"And really, it's rather rich of a member of the paparazzi to be calling anyone else a criminal," he snarls, his anger clawing at what shreds remain of his determination to keep calm. "Raleigh's a grown woman who can take care of herself. She lives with two good men, both of whom have spades more humanity than you." He rolls his eyes, entirely unimpressed with the man's attitude, even as the venom he aims at Raleigh continues to provoke Fabrice's nerves. "And I thought journalists were supposed to know how to check facts? If you knew my friend at all, which, clearly, you don't, you would know that, if we were dating, she wouldn't have come out here with you."

The man snorts with complete derision, and Raleigh can feel the people watching them, the murmur of people who want this, for some god-unknown reason, to escalate to a fistfight.

"Grown woman who can take care of herself? That's not what the police report says, or the hospital records." He's bluffing - he doesn't have access to either, and he got the hospital pay off info the normal way - you call the hospital, say you want to make a payment, act dumb, and voila. But still, he knows how to BS, and now? Now he's trying to get a reaction of his own. Raleigh's not the main focus of this, it's Fabrice, now - he's caught himself a bigger fish, and if he can use the Coombs name, and say that he's dating the girl who got kidnapped with Corrine Flynn?

Jackpot. "Seems to me, she doesn't know how to take care of shit, if she's got you to fight stand up for her, she's scraping the bottom of the barrel. What, your two good men not good enough for you?" That's to Raleigh who's behind Fabrice.

"This isn't any of your business, just go away."

"What, and leave behind the story of the century? Fabrice Coombs, with a girl who's shacking up with two suspected criminals, who's been kidnapped with Corrine Flynn and was on the cruise itself? Really, Mr. Coombs, I'd think you'd have some standards." There's a glint in his eye, like he's hoping that him going for broke is going to finally push Fabrice too far. "I mean, I didn't have to try all that hard to get her here. What, was it just easy for you?"

"The police would never let scum like you look at their records," he snarls, feeling each and every crack that runs along his self-control. This journalist is the human equivalent of nails scraping against chalkboard; every word he utters screeches like a banshee in Fabrice's thoughts. He's wound tight, like a rubber band.

"And you don't get to talk to her like that," he snaps then, his fist retreating backwards before landing squarely in the other man's face.

"Oh- Oh my god, Fabrice-" He punched him, and the reporter had stumbled back, and he's smiling,, he's smiling, even though he's got a split lip.

"That all you got, Coombs? I'll talk to her however the hell I want." He's trying to goad him again, trying to get him to make another move as he pushes himself up from where he caught himself on the bar.

"Fabrice-" Raleigh's grabbing his arm. "Listen, let's go. He's- he's drunk," Even though he wasn't. "And seriously, staying isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Wonder how your aunt would take you dating someone like her, anyway. Does she know? Do any of them?"

"We're not-" Raleigh makes a sound in frustration as she lets go of Fabrice's arm. Damn it. "We're not dating!"

Fabrice knows this is bad; he's just punched a member of the paparazzi in the face and there's a crowd now, at the bar. Raleigh's trying to talk him down, but he can't hear anything beyond the man's obnoxious grin and the taunting words he spits back in his face. Adrenaline pumps through him, and Fabrice knows this isn't going to end well.

"No, you won't, you utter ass," he snarls, taking another step forward, shrugging Raleigh's hand off his shoulder. "If you must use your mouth for anything at all, you'll talk to her like the human being she is."

"And you don't get to talk about my family as 'them,'" he growls, before throwing himself at the journalist, hitting him in the waist with his head and into a skirmish of limbs and punches. They roll around on the floor, both landing punches and blows; Fabrice manages to hit him hard in the mouth again, while the other man punches him hard enough in the nose that it makes a sickening crunch and blood starts spilling from it.

"Fuck!" He mutters, clutching at his nose briefly before resuming the attack.

"Stop it!" Raleigh's standing over the two of them rolling on the floor, her voice loud in the bar. "Goddamnit, stop-"

He's bleeding. He's bleeding and Raleigh feels like she wants to throw up, she wants to sink and die and it's so red, the blood from both of them is so red, and her hands shake. She can't do this here. Not with these people, she can't- Her hand scrabbles unseeing to the bar until she finds a pitcher - full of beer, abandoned by the guys who were now cheering on the fight on the floor, and she just moves - and she dumps it on the two of them, trying to get them to stop.

"Please-" She's not crying, she's not crying yet, she's just a mess. She's a mess and she's shaking and she can't- he's bleeding and she can only think of Levi, of his side and it's just too much and it's so hot in here--

"Stop. I need- You need to stop."

She has to get out of here. She's got to get out of here, but there's so many people around them.

Fabrice winces when the alcohol hits him, especially when it hits his nose, right in the middle of the blood. Ironically, it sobers him instantly, and he remembers that he's in a very public caught up in a very public fight with a member of the paparazzi.

"Shit," he mutters, pulling back and picking himself up. The journalist dusts off his shoulder, even as blood drips from his mouth.

"Thanks for the story," he sneers before turning and leaving the bar, as Fabrice heart drops to his stomach. He turns and finds Raleigh shaking, like she might break at any moment.

"Come one," he tells her, grabbing a couple of napkins to hold to his nose as he helps her outside of the bar. His own arms are trembling.

Raleigh's wringing her hands without even realising it, following Fabrice because she has to, but her voice sounds faint to even her own ears because all she can hear is the thud-thud-thud of her pulse in her ears.

She wants to be sick. She can see it, see Levi standing in the doorway where she's huddled on the floor, he's covered in blood and he just collapses, and there's so much red, there's red all over her hands and on the floor and it's so much blood--

"Your nose," she sounds far away even to your own ears. "You're b-bleeding, Fabrice-" She reaches for the napkins, and it amazes her, somehow, that her wrists aren't covered in blood, that they're not open wounds from the handcuffs, and she's in a bad way.

She's in a bad way and she doesn't do this, she doesn't lose her shit in public, but god, she's holding onto it by her fingernails. "You're bleeding," she says again, this time her voice is even fainter, and she tries to pull in a breath but she just can't.

"I deserve it," he tells her, shaking his head and gently prying her hands away from the napkins he still keeps pressed to his nose. "I acted like a goddamn idiot in there."

His stomach twists into knots when he sees how pale she is, how she struggles to breathe. Fuck. He did this. He's responsible for her reactions, the way she seems barely together. Guilt wracks through him; he was trying to help but his own stubborn nature and pent up frustrations got the better of him. They really shouldn't have.

"God, Raleigh, I'm so sorry," he reaches out to her with his free hand, trying to help calm her down. "Please, breathe. Breathe."

"You don't, you don't deserve it, you're bleeding." It's hard not to focus on the blood; it's harder than she can actually deal with, because he's bleeding, he's bleeding and she feels like she should do something and she forces herself to pull in a breath and finally she closes her eyes for a minute.

"I'm okay." The words stick in her throat, but she can say them. She can say them because she's used to this, because she's used to having to shut this down, to take her fear, her panic, and ball it up, ball it up and shove it deep down until it's gone, until she's alone. She's been doing it for years, and it's getting harder - it's getting harder over time, and her nails bite into her palms as she looks away from him so she can just--

"Okay." What she wants to say is absurd, she wants to ask him please don't tell anyone, because she doesn't want to worry Spencer and Joel, because she doesn't want this- this thing to become something else that's broken about her besides her leg. She'll get over it, the waves of fear will happen less and less. She knows it, and her heart's still pounding in her throat, she still feels sick, but she thinks she sounds normal, and she's at least able to breathe. "Are you okay? I think- I think he broke your nose."

"I'm taking care of it," he promises, holding the napkins to his face as he tries to mutter a quick healing charm, something simple that will at least lessen some of the pain. But the words aren't coming, and suddenly, the adrenaline leaves him and dizziness catches up with him; he stumbles, grabbing onto the wall for support. "Fuck," he mumbles under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty sure he did. Bastard."

"We should get you home," Fabrice says quietly, still heavily concerned for Raleigh. in the midst of trying to ground himself. She shouldn't have to deal with the fallout from his stupidity in giving in to his urge to fight. "So you can get warm and try and forget this night ever happened."

"Here. Here, let me- Here." She keeps saying it, and she moves him with her to the bench. It's dark outside, and they're far enough from the bar that it's not too close. "Sit down. Sit, I'm warm, don't worry, just- just tip your head back, and- give me a second." She's digging through her purse, until she finds the pink vial she keeps on her for when her leg--

When it's too bad. "Drink this, okay? It'll only heal it a little, but it's something, and it'll make it not hurt." Joel made it for her, and she's not going to say that out loud, but she's staring at him, trying to put him together somehow. Manage him, get him better, and then figure herself out. That's what she needs to do.

"Okay?" She's sitting next to him, and she's trying to ignore all of the blood. "He- He deserved what he got. Thank you. Thank you for what you did."

He's bleeding too much to argue, really, and so he obeys, following her to the bench and sinking onto it with relative ease. He tilts his head back, continuing to press the napkins to his nose. He can't help but glance over to where she's digging through her purse. "What's that?" His eyes widen when he catches sight of the potion she offers him. "Who gave you that?"

He drinks it because he trusts Raleigh, and as the potion does its work, he feels the pain relent and the blood begin to slow.

"Thank you," he tells her, handing her back the vial. And then he starts to laugh, the ridiculousness of this situation, of the whole week, really, catching up with him. Because he realizes that he regrets nothing about that fight, about defending those he cares deeply for; and in that moment, he realizes he's in love with Demetri Thornton.

"A friend," she said simply. "It's for when my leg's too bad to walk, I have some other ones, don't worry." She says it quietly, and he starts to laugh, and she just stares at him. She stares, and her face just sort of... crumples, and she looks away. She can't--

She can't.

But whatever he's laughing about, more power to him. She takes the vial back when he's done, and she busies herself picking through her purse, her brows knotted together. "Is it still bleeding?" She dealt with her brother having nosebleeds after he'd get into fights. This was just like that. That's all, this was just like that, and she didn't have to worry or anything else. This wasn't like Levi, this wasn't like when the blood was just- it was everywhere. It wasn't like that. It couldn't be like that.

He tries to reign himself in, knowing he's making a scene, and especially when he catches the look on her face, just before she turns away.

"God, I'm sorry Raleigh," he tells her, wincing as his laughter finally subsides. This isn't the time for him to be dwelling on his own issues, not when Raleigh seems so shaken up. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise."

"I'm glad you have another witchy friend looking after you," he says, watching her busy herself with her purse. "If you ever need any other potions or charms, I can make you some, too. Healing's kind of my specialty. Mostly on animals, granted, but I do know how to look after humans."

"It's slowed down," he tells her, briefly pulling back the napkins before reapplying them. "It'll stop soon."

"I know. I know you're not, I'm okay. Seriously. I just- It's okay." she's just trying to get through this, to get him home, get him taken care of.

She just doesn't react well to blood anymore, apparently. Or the fighting, she doesn't even know. "Thanks for the offer, by the way. Uhm-" She swallows thickly. "I can walk you home, once it stops." She's rubbing her hands on her legs, she feels so antsy. She feels like-- it's a mess, how she feels right now. It's a mess, and she doesn't even know how to talk about it, if she even can, that she's got fear twisting in her stomach.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're okay?" He asks because she doesn't seem okay to him, and that deeply troubles him. He feels responsible for her misery tonight and he wishes he could take it all back. Except maybe the initial punch to the journalist's nose. That, he absolutely would never take back.

"I'll be fine walking home," he tells her. "I'm more concerned about you." She keeps rubbing her legs, and it only worries him more.

I'm not okay. I'm so not okay, I just keep seeing it

"Yeah, I'm fine." She can't say what she's thinking, she doesn't even know how to say it. "You don't need to worry, I'm- I'll be great." The smile she forces isn't real, but it's there, and she's just trying to just get it under fucking control, but he keeps asking, and she swallows hard. "You're just- You're hurt. And bleeding, and it's because of me." Her voice is weird and pitchy at the end, and she twists her fingers together.

"He kept- He kept asking me about me and Corry. About how much I should hate her because I'm the one who got hurt, and how I almost died, and- and how-" She has to stop talking about it, she can't just lose it. Not here. Not in public, where anyone could see her.

"I'm okay now," she said quietly. "I just want you to feel better, and we'll get you home, and then- and then I can go home. Okay?"

"No, it's not because of you," he tells her, pleads with her, really, because he wants her to understand that it isn't her fault at all. "I made the choice to engage with the man; I made the choice to punch him. And this bleeding is one of the consequences."

He tenses when she mentions what the other man had been telling her, and it makes him hate him even more.

"Raleigh, pardon me for saying so, but I don't think you're okay," he tells her.

"You punched him because of what he was saying to me. Because-- because I didn't- I should have just left." Her eyes flick up to his, and Raleigh swallows thickly before she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. "I should have just left, but I just- I couldn't, and-- He broke your nose." She can't figure out what to do with her hands, she can't figure it out, and then he says that she's not okay and she looks up at him like a startled doe.

Like it's something she's never heard, and she stares at him, and she shakes her head just slightly and her face crumples before she looks away, her eyes welling with tears. "I- I can get through this. I just- if- I just need a minute-" She's trying so hard to not break down, she's trying to do what she normally does and close that off, to bundle away the way she's feeling, but this time it's like trying to hold onto sand and it just keeps slipping out of her grasp. "I'm sorry, I'm- I'll be okay, I just-" She keeps gulping in air, like she can't catch her breath, but she's trying to somehow put him at ease.

"He'd grabbed your wrist," he reminds her, flinching at the image in his mind. "He'd pretty much held you in place while he was saying those things to you; he made you stay." Which is what pushed him over the edge to intervene, along with the ugly words the journalist had been hurling at Raleigh.

"You need more than a minute," he tells her sadly, knowing the panic of what she's going through all too well. "Raleigh, we need to get you home, get you warm, and away from this shitty bar." She's gulping like a fish trying to make sense of breathing air, and Fabrice just can't leave her like this. He wraps an arm around her shoulder, brings her in close. "Come on, let me take you home."

"I can't- I can't go home, Fabrice. They- I can't let them see me like this." She's supposed to be okay, now. She's supposed- She can't let them see how not alright she is. She's already staying on Spencer's charity, but she's scared that if she doesn't seem better, that if she doesn't seem like living with them is helping her - which it is, it's made things so much better, but if she doesn't seem like it, they'll decide it's not a good place for her.

He pulls her close, and she just- she can't hold it together any longer. She just can't, and she starts to cry, her face buried against his neck - and they're sitting on a park bench in the dark with him covered in drying blood from his nose, and her crying on him - they're both wrecks, at the moment.

"They love you," he tells her, earnestly. "And maybe they wouldn't know how you're feeling, but they will understand, and they will be there for you." He holds her closer, squeezing her tightly. "They know you've been through difficult times; they'll understand."

He holds her, letting her cry on him as he starts to rock her, whispering soothing nothings to her. His nose has all but stopped bleeding, but he hurts, knowing how much pain his friend, so much the sister he'd never had, is in.

"You're all right, I promise."

"It's the blood," the words are thick. "He was bleeding- after Levi found me, he was bleeding, and it was because he helped me, and he kept asking-- why would he do that? Why would he ask me about when I was gone?" She means when she was taken, and she's still crying, even though she doesn't want to- even though she hates that her stomach is a twisted pit of fear, hates that she's hiccuping because she'd been crying so hard, hates all of this. She knows that breakdowns happen, that these things make sense, but...

It's so hard. She's been hiding it from as many people as she can, for as long as she can, and she's been doing this alone for so long. She's so tired, it's been so exhausting, and now... now it's like the dam's finally let loose.

He tenses as her words come tumbling out; he knew that she was kidnapped, of course he did. But he never realized the full extent of the torment she endured that night, the full extent of the horror she'd faced. "God," he says, unable to think of what else he might say in a situation like this. He rocks her, hoping to get her to calm down by simply holding her. "I'm so sorry, Raleigh."

Him holding her does so much. It does so much to have another person, to have him rocking her and she can just be there, and it takes a little while but the crying slows, her breath evens out as she presses her face against his neck. "I'm okay." She's actually telling the truth, now. She's affirming it, she's saying she's okay, because she feels.... centered, again. Okay, again.

She finally pulls back, and her eyes are red-rimmed, but she's able to breathe, and she shakes her head as she looks up at him. "You need to see a doctor or something for your nose," she says with a sniffle, exhaling slowly like somehow this would just maybe be a little... better.

"I really am okay, it just... happens sometimes," she says quietly. "It's- I know it'll happen less and less as time goes on." She's been there, because of her leg. She knows.

He slows his rocking as her breathing evens out, waits as she calms down. He knows how important it is just to have someone by your side, to be held while the world seems to fall apart around you. He'd been lucky to have his cousins in the aftermath of his attack; he hopes he can provide the same sort of comfort for Raleigh.

"I..." He hasn't been to a doctor since his time in the hospital. It scares him, having the need to go back there again. The sterilized atmosphere, even the memory of it, sends a shiver through him. He hopes she doesn't notice. "I suppose I do, yeah."

"Well, if you ever need someone to help, you can always call me, okay?"

She does notice, and she's so worn out, all she says is, "Tomorrow. You can do it later." Because it's important, that they're both okay now. That neither of them are scared. Swallowing hard, her gaze searches his in the darkness.

"Thank you. Thank you for what you did, Fabrice." She finds his hand, squeezing it. "You're- You're such a good person, you know that?"

It's so important that he knows, she thinks, because it's the kind of thing that's not ever said enough.

"Right, I'm going to do it tomorrow then," he tells her, appreciative of the way she glides over his reaction to doctors and hospitals. He finally comes to a stop with his rocking, simply holding her in his arms.

He ducks his gaze away from hers, cheeks burning at the compliment. Everyone seemed to think that, that he was such a good person. But Fabrice knows he has his own foibles; he isn't a saint. "I do my best," he tells her earnestly. Because he makes mistakes like everyone else. Sometimes, he gives into his impulses, like the fight at the bar, and he makes a mess of things the way most humans tend to do. "But thank you, truly. That means a lot."

"What you do means a lot." Her voice is rough as she wipes at her face with her hands, and they're not shaking quite the way they were. She was so fucking exhausted now, worn out and emotionally bruised from the harsh words of the reporter, and those seeds of doubt were ones that she'd not yet figured out how to banish. Yes, she was the one who walked away with thousands in hospital bills. No, she didn't resent Corrine. Should she? Raleigh didn't htink so, because she didn't put her in this situation, but...

She wondered, sometimes.

"If you ever need anything," she said it quietly, but sincerely. "Anything, I'll help however I can."

"I...thank you," he says, because he appreciates hearing it, even as much as he knows that he makes his own mistakes as well. Raleigh means the world to him, and so he takes her kind words to heart. She's such a good person, it only makes the reality of the night's events even harder to comprehend. She shouldn't be the one caught in the crossfires of the sleazy paparazzi.

"Same goes to you," he tells her, wanting her to understand just how much he means the words. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

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BACKDATED (for Fabrice, dated to Aug 21, 9:30PM)

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TW: blood, panic attacks

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