bye_felicia | and the best part about it is I'm the only who can do somethin' about it

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and the best part about it is I'm the only who can do somethin' about it

It hits her out of nowhere. One minute, she's berating a waitress for serving someone else before her, the next she's sitting there, staring open-mouthed at a girl near tears, the words still buzzing around in her head, sitting on her tongue, with surprise the only thing keeping them at bay.

The girl doesn't deserve this, she realizes suddenly. This is just the way that things are.

They're not home anymore. She can't treat people like this.

The girl runs away, escapes, and Victra doesn't see her again until she delivers her plate of food, so hot and fresh it's ready to burn her tongue.

But Victra can't pay any attention to her now. She has more important people in her life that she needs to apologize to. Her phone's already out and she's sending a mass text message with her location to everyone in her neatly cultivated contacts list.

I'm back to normal. Sorry.

And to Lincoln, an added:

Please forgive me.

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Jesse had been avoiding Victra ever since she basically eviscerated him with words. Or tried to. Yes the stuff she'd said and done was painful but knowing her history and everything had actually helped. Jesse didn't care about the opinion of that Victra. The Victra that was his friend always made it clear how she felt about him. The Victra who said and did all of that other stuff? She was the product of her environment. So all of that had only hurt a little bit. Okay, some of it had hurt a moderate amount but he refused to give Evil!Julie the satisfaction of knowing that. Evil!Victra didn't care what he thought but the best revenge he could think of was acting like he didn't care what she thought either.

When he first got her text part of him wondered if it was some sort of trick. He quickly dismissed that though because honestly? She wouldn't care enough about him to try and trick him. Even at her worst Victra wasn't some mustache twirling villain who lived to humiliate and hurt others. Still, she had hurt people without a care for their feelings.

Apology temporarily accepted but I want you to say it face to face.

She's proud of Jesse for not immediately accepting her apology and carrying on. She might have expected it from him, because he's so easygoing and friendly usually, but she deserves a rebuff. Her behavior the past few days has been truly awful, and nothing like what any of her few friends is used to.

Here or there? Just let me know where to see you and I'll be there.

Like hell she's going to lose Jesse as a friend because of something slagging City nonsense.

Jesse stared at his phone for a moment, thinking it over. He wasn't the only one that had been missing Victra, Ripley had been asking to see "Auntie Victa" and it was hard to tell her that she couldn't see her right now. But Jesse didn't want to have Victra come over if she was still horrible.

But if she was asking to apologize then she was definitely back to herself. He was sure that Victra felt awful about what she'd done but he also had faith that she knew he wouldn't really blame her for it despite the need for the apology. Honestly if she had said that she was better and didn't offer an apology Jesse he wasn't sure if he could have argued if he deserved one. It wasn't like she chose to become someone she no longer wanted to be. No, Jesse took it as a sign that she valued their friendship so much she was willing to offer an apology and that decided things for him.

We're both at home. Why don't you stop by here?

On my way.

She leaves the diner without paying for her coffee, focused as she is on Jesse and Ripley and what she needs to do. The words for her apology play out in her mind -- as well as the defense that she wasn't in control of herself, didn't know that she was saying what she was saying. But when it comes time to stand in front of Jesse's door, she's got little more on her tongue than a few key words.

She knocks on the door and when he answers, immediately he's greeted with, "I'm sorry."

"I know. And I know if it was just some city bullshit and that's not something you'd say to me," he told her. Because he wanted her to know that, he wanted her to know that he knew what sort of person she was now. He figured that was how she used to be, or at least something like that, but that wasn't his friend who had said that.

"And I forgive you. But I am totally going to press my advantage here and ask if I can have a hug because I have really missed my friend."

He figured Julie would appreciate the tactics involved in that. Jesse also knew that if she didn't want to hug she'd feel comfortable telling him no.

Victra huffs out a soft, choked laugh, her chest feeling tight with emotion -- guilt and fear and relief and amusement -- and her throat dry. Even now, without the intrusion of the city into her mind, Victra doesn't know what she's done to deserve someone as caring as Jesse in her life. But she'll take it. She'll take it with both arms wrapping around him into a tight hug.

"I wish I could say I missed you too," she says. "Instead I've got all these memories of not feeling anything."

Jesse hugged her back tightly as she hugged him, grateful to have his friend back. It was an uncharacteristic display of emotion from her but one that he was grateful for and was a testament to just how her change had affected her.

“That has to be unsettling,” he said, trying to imagine what it would be like to just feel nothing. “Were you- is that what you were like before?”

She nods quietly, without a wince or grimace, just a simple, straightforward acknowledgment.

"Yes," Victra says. "Probably worse this time around because everything was pissing me off, due to not being home. But basically, that was me, in all my glory."

It's not a hard thing to admit to. A part of her doesn't want to, but she's too honest to try and hide from what she was, what a part of her still is.

“Is it weird that I’m even more proud of you now that I’ve seen what you were like?” Jesse asked. Sure he always had the other Gold in the city to compare her to but it was difficult for him to actually visualize Victra being that way. Now he didn’t really have that difficulty.

“It takes a lot to have such a complete turn around, especially against a system that favors you. I know you’re proud of yourself for a lot of stuff but that definitely should be one of the things.”

Lincoln hasn't gone out of his way to avoid Victra, but he also hasn't made an effort to seek her out either. He's wanted to, he's found himself awake night after night, repeatedly talking himself into and then back out of going to see her.

Going to her apartment is going to end in violence. She had been serious about using her Razor on him and he's confident she'll return to normal, so he doesn't want to present her with the opportunity to do something she'll regret when that happens. The confidence remains just because he can't fathom any other outcome. She has to return to normal. She just has to.

There's never been a question of forgiveness. He looks at the text she's sent him, then puts his phone away into his pocket and heads for the restaurant where the text says she's waiting. He's nervous, but not as nervous as he thought he might have been. His heart is pounding, but it's mostly out of sheer relief.

Victra fiddles with her phone, staring at it, waiting for a response from someone, anyone. From Lincoln. She gets a few, a few reassuring answers, but nothing from Lincoln.

The food she had ordered before her return to normal arrives, but now she can't eat. Her stomach twists in knots as she waits for something, anything to say that she hasn't ruined one of the few good things she has in her life.

She's so absorbed in her phone that she doesn't look up when the diner door dings the arrival of a new customer.

He knows he's risking her Razor again when he crosses the diner and drops down into the chair beside her without saying a word. It's a risk he's willing to take, however, one he'd been willing to take when he'd walked into her apartment that day and found her completely changed. Had he thought it would help, he would have stayed, he would have let her attack him if there had been even a chance that might bring her back.

But he had known it wouldn't. Better to keep his distance and make sure no further damage was done before she came back.

And now she has. There's no question of it, not when he reaches out to cup her cheek and really look her in the eye. This is the Victra he knows, the woman he loves, he sees it in a second, and the relief of it sends his heart pounding even harder.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking care to keep his voice low.

Her heart sticks in her throat at the touch. Of all people, she thinks she's hurt Lincoln the worst -- physically and emotionally -- and he means the most to her. The fear that she had lost him, irrational as it was, played in her mind in the small amount of time since she's come back to herself.

And the first thing he does is touch her and make sure she's okay, and it's all that Victra can do not to let her eyes water with tears of gratitude. They shine bright gold, but that's all. She won't allow herself anything more than that.

"That's not the point," she says. "Are you?"

"I'm-"

He stops himself before going any further. He'd been about to say he's fine, because he is for the most part. The cut on his chest is healing, it's not going to scar, and even if it were to, it's not as if it would be the only one on his body. He understands it wasn't really her, not as she is now, and he doesn't know what happened to cause it, so he doesn't blame her, but that's different than giving her an honest answer about how he's feeling. He's not angry, really, but that's a different answer, too.

Because he's hurt. Hearing her speak to him as if she'd never seen him before, referring to him as the colour of his skin, it had all struck Lincoln hard.

"A little hurt," he admits. "But I'm okay."

She's always, always told him to be honest with her, from day one. It's one of the things she respects most about Lincoln. But in this instant, she wishes he wouldn't be so truthful. She wishes that his answer were something different. Because even the slightest bit of pain caused by her -- caused by her against her will and without her having anything to do with it -- pains her. It makes her angry, at the city, mostly, but irrationally, too, at herself.

"I'm sorry," she says, dropping her head. "I'm not that way anymore, Lincoln. You know that. I would never say those things anymore. I just-- What can I do to make this up to you?"

"Nothing," he says, looking at her and then he reaches for her face again, his fingers skimming her cheek. He wants her to look at him, he hates seeing her look down at the floor like this. "You didn't do anything."

This strange city had done something to her. In that sense, Lincoln thinks Victra has just as much right to be hurt as he does, maybe even more. It had been done against her will, some strange transformation he still can't make sense of. But maybe there's no making sense of this place. Not when it does something like that.

"I know you're not like that," he says. "I know it was something done to you. You don't have to do anything to make it up to me."

She thinks she should have been stronger. She should have such an iron will that even Darrow cannot mess with her. Her body is one thing. It's taken her abilities before and she's half-certain that it will do so, or something similar, again. But her mind is her own and this kind of intrusion hits hard.

"I just--" They're in such a public place that it makes her feel watched in some way. It didn't matter before. She had been too focused on making things right. But admitting something about herself versus talking about their relationship and things she had not meant to do were different things.

"Thank you. For seeing it that way." That does relieve her more than she can say. Because it isn't her fault, no matter how much irrational guilt she might be feeling. And Lincoln should be saying so.

"Of course." As far as he can tell, there's no other way to see it. As hurt as he'd been, as much as he had wanted to stay at her apartment and work to convince her she knew him, it had been fairly obvious right from the start that something had been done to her. If she had just decided she no longer wanted to be with him, she wouldn't have pretended not to know him. Victra is far too sure of herself to bother playing any games like that.

He notices her discomfort and he doesn't think it has anything to do with him, but maybe with where they are. There are people around, some of them looking at the two of them, and Lincoln smiles softly and drops his hand to Victra's.

"Let's go," he suggests. Right now, he's just so grateful to have her back. Anything else feels absolutely secondary in light of that.

Victra nods silently, moving her hand under his to push up from her seat and away from the table. She throws down some cash, not paying attention and for once probably giving a good tip, then heads towards the door of the diner, assuming Lincoln will be right there beside her. She doesn't hesitate.

Once they're outdoors, she steers them in the direction of her apartment. It feels safer to her there, even though it's the place of her last interaction with Lincoln, when she cut him and forced him mout.

"Have you ever had something like this happen?" she asks. "Have the city take over your mind like that?"

As they walk, he thinks about Victra's question, then shakes his head. What had happened to Raven was different, something from home, not Darrow in the same sense this had been. She had taken something to let that monster into her head and he doesn't blame her in the slightest, but it's also not at all what had happened to Victra.

"No," he says finally, reaching for her hand. She's back, she's the woman he loves, and the relief he feels is palpable. He wants to keep touching her, wants to not have to let go. "Not like that. I've seen some very odd things, but nothing that made it feel like this place was changing someone. Changing their memories or-"

He stops abruptly, then looks at Victra. "People have talked about gaining memories. Remembering things that happened after they've come here."

She takes her hand. She's not one for public displays of affection, really. She doesn't give a damn what other people think and would make out with Lincoln, under normal circumstances, in front of anyone and everyone if she wanted. But tenderness is another story. It happens, but less frequently. So now when she squeezes Lincoln's hand in hers, it means something.

"It's not that," she says, shaking her head. "It was forgetting. I didn't remember--" Her lips purse and, hinting where she can't say the words, she reaches a hand to rub lightly at the chemical burns on her body. "It was all gone, in my head."

It's not the same, but it's the closest he can think of, even if it doesn't quite fit, so he nods and squeezes her hand in return.

"I know," he says. "I thought telling you the private things you'd shared with me would help, but I didn't even realize those memories were gone, too. I thought you'd just forgotten me. This city."

But he'd brought up her sister and Victra simply hadn't known that. He almost would have felt guilty, except for the fact that her surety in herself had been so strong that she didn't seem all that bothered by the things he'd said. Just annoyed by his presence.

"Even when they had me captured, even when they were torturing me, I never let them take my mind like that," she says, her voice a rough, hushed sound as she leans in to Lincoln. Taking comfort from his proximity and keeping some semblance of privacy between them.

"The city or whatever can do what it likes with my body. But my mind, my thoughts and my feelings... It turns my stomach to think about it again."

"I'm sorry," he says. It doesn't seem fair, that a place can violate someone in this way, especially someone he cares for as much as he does Victra. It seems so wrong, one of the many things about Darrow he can't fix for anyone, no matter how badly he might want to. All he can do is be here in the aftermath, be the man he's supposed to be.

He doesn't know how to prevent it from happening again. It seems like once should be enough, more than enough, she shouldn't have to experience it even that single time, but now he's worried it might happen to her again. Or to someone else.

"I wish there was some way to protect ourselves against these things," he says.

Cameron isn't going to lie. The way Victra's been behaving lately, it stings. He'd thought they were friends. They still are, he's told himself. Something is wrong for her to be acting like this. He doesn't know what it is or why it's happening now, but it's such a sudden escalation that he has to believe it's not just Victra snapping and turning into a complete asshole.

But it still hurts. So when he sees a text from her arrive, the truth is, he's nervous even to look at it. When he does, it's hard even to be relieved.

Are you okay?

I'm fine.

She can hardly believe that Cameron's first instinct is to ask if she's okay. As if she's been the one going through a tough time these last few days. She's been fine. She's been trying to live the high life, the Gold life. It's everyone else she needs to worry about being okay.

I don't know what happened. I remember everything but I don't know why I did it.

Well, that's concerning. Cameron looks at the text for a little while, turning that over. It's a little scary to think she might have been out of her own control, but then, it's also hard to think of another explanation. Victra can be haughty and judgmental and arrogant, true, but in small doses and often in a playful way, not entirely serious. Those aspects of her are there, but they're not usually... pronounced, to put it mildly.

She must feel awful.

Sounds like a Darrow thing. I'm glad you're alright. That was weird.

Which is also putting it mildly.

Understatement.

Definitely it was a Darrow thing, but Victra feels a tinge of responsibility nonetheless. Maybe she wasn't in control of herself, but it was still her mouth that made the words. She doesn't want anyone to think that what she said came from her, that it exists in her mind as a truth.

Free? I'll buy you lunch.

Cameron starts to write back that it's not necessary, but he erases it. She shouldn't have to feel bad for the way she behaved if it wasn't really her, but he can understand why she would. It's just the same as how it stings even though he knows she didn't mean any of it. It doesn't have to have been real for it to have happened.

Sure. Where should we meet?

Bondurant, if that's okay with you.

It's not the most elegant of settings, but she's not looking to impress Cameron with a paid for meal at this point. She just wants to talk to him face to face and make sure that everything's okay. She needs to see people to believe them, not read off texts and hope that the meaning behind them is sincere.

Sounds good. See you there soon.

It is, at least, somewhere Cameron already knows of, and a place not all that far from home. He lets Jenny know where he's off to and sets off shortly thereafter, soon arriving at Bondurant's. It's a little weird, admittedly, to be meeting with Victra now, but he's taking her apology at face value anyway.

The wait between receiving the text message response and seeing Cameron walk through the door of the diner feels like an age despite the short time frame. Victra wants things to fall back into normalcy as quickly as she did, as if with a snap of her fingers. But that's impossible. Even with forgiveness, there's bound to be an awkward stage.

She waves down Cameron and gives him a tight, small grin. "Thanks. Promise I won't bite."

"I'm not so sure of that," Cameron admits wryly, but he takes a seat opposite her all the same. He's here to figure out what happened and to give her the benefit of the doubt, not to make this worse. This is Victra. She can be tough, even sharp, but she's not usually cruel. This was something else.

"But I'll take my chances."

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and the best part about it is I'm the only who can do somethin' about it

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