Cactus Finch

The nightmares were fading. She felt like throwing up, or trying to drown herself. Really, she was thirsty, too. Like she'd been asleep for days. Innocently as a baby, she opened her eyes to stare at the twinkling lights above her. Everything was so soft. The blankets she was covered in were floral, faded and familiar.

Her loft.

How had she gotten to her loft?

"She'll be thirsty, and tired. Don't get her riled up," Sebastian said, handing the tea set to Vance. "And leave the door open."

"Yes, sir," he said. "Finch?"

"V-Vance?" Finch croaked, blinking at him. Her arm was on fire. "Where am I?"

"Home," he responded. "Your parents.. all of them." He laughed. "They decided it was better for you to recover at home." He hopped up on the opening, scooting inside. There was an empty space, just big enough for the tea tray on one of the shelves.

"They let you here?" Finch asked, her eyebrows pulling together. "They don't like you."

"Your mum said I could make up for what happened to you," Vance said, pulling his socked feet inside the loft. He glanced outside to make sure Sebastian or Jack weren't lurking before pulling the shutter half-closed.

"What ha-happened, it's all so," Finch pressed her hand to her throbbing head. "Everything is so confusing. I was at work, and then-"

"A girl I knew, she lied and said I was hurt. A little'n told me Jen was hurt and distracted me, until I outbid Jen's offer. She'd shot you up with smack. Prolly cost her a pretty penny, stupid bitch," he said, shaking his head. "All because I didn' wanna a shag."

"But you didn't want to shag me either," Finch said, as though that were the point to the conversation. "How silly of her."

"What!?" Vance said. "I didn't say that." He flushed. "I said I didn' wanna shag Jen. She weren'.." He coughed.

"You didn't want to kiss me," Finch sighed, closing her eyes. If she felt better she would be too embarrassed to even be having this conversation. "Your friend is silly. She didn't even have to worry-"

Vance floundered. "I did want to kiss you. I told Jen to piss off because she weren't- wasn't you. She said forget you cos we're too different, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. It's been driving me mad!"

Finch's eyes opened, and she looked at him. The drugs were making her feel so woozy. She nearly laughed, he looked so serious. "You went away."

"You said you'd never done it," Vance said, holding an arm across his chest. "It wasn' my place to do.. things to you."

"I d-don't, I mean, I never really," Finch flushed, and she tried to reach up to touch him, hissing when her arm flared with pain. "Vance. It hurts."

His hand shot out, and he crawled closer.

"You nearly clawed your arm off, bird," he said, stroking over her bandage. "Easy does it. Never really what?"

He blinked, still shy to look at her so directly. Finch gulped, trying to get the sour taste out of her mouth.

"I never really had anyone before. Like that," Finch whispered. She shook her head. "Never wanted to, really. Until then." Until Now.

Vance picked up her hand and kissed it gently.

"You don't want some murderous street thief as your first shag. You should do it with someone you care about," he said, stroking over her soft hands with his own calloused ones. "Consider.. consider me your hired gun. Your bodyguard."

"I don't need bodyguards, I have those," Finch replied quietly. She clutched his hand. "I need a friend. I understand, I mean. I know I'm weird, and I know my mum is awful, but I- I mean, I-I- never mind. It's stupid. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble."

"Your mum is great," Vance laughed, stretching out beside Finch. He nestled close, like he might've with one of his 'friends' on cold nights. "Okay, I'll be your friend." He tried his best to keep her in his sight. He didn't normally care about how well he could see anything, but Finch he wanted to see. "I shot her for what she did to you."

"You... shot her?" Finch asked, looking at him, trying to blink away the haze. "You shot- Oh God. Get out. Get out right now."

Vance flinched. He hurried to get up.

"Right, okay," he said, heart tripping over itself. He almost fell from the loft as he scrambled down.

"I don't want to see you again," Finch said, rolling over, away from him, even though it hurt her. John had come to the door.

"She alright?" John asked, folding his arms over his chest, looking stern.

Vance shook his head. "I shouldn' tried to talk to her, it bein' my fault. She's a good girl, Dr. Watson. She don't need no criminals," he said, hurrying past. John stepped forward, checking on the little girl. Finch was doing her best not to cry, eyes clenched tight.

"Finch, what happened?" John prompted quietly.

"Mum got to him. He's not my friend," Finch whispered, flinching away from John's fatherly touch. "I never want to see him again."

"Shh, shh. Just rest now, Finch. You've had a bad couple of weeks. You need to rest," John soothed, patting her back.

Vance went back to the dining room to pull on his boots.

"Something go wrong, Mr. Reed?" Mary asked from her position on the sofa. She looked up from her expensive tablet.

"Yeah, nobody's friends with killers," he said, yanking on the laces. "You know where to find me if you need me to work. She said she don't wanna see me again."

"She's been awake less than four minutes. I think you've set a record for pissing her off," Mary replied with a sigh. "I did tell you that she needed to think I hated you. It's no good if you tell her you're working for me. You didn't tell her that part? Ah, good. Here, I've got a job for you."

"Course I didn't tell her that... You have a job already?" Vance asked, standing up.

"It never stops, my line of work," Mary told him, watching his approach. "How do you feel about stealing art?"

"Bit tricky," he hummed. "I'd need nicer clothes to get in with that lot."

"Don't worry, I intend to give you the money to buy them. Will you be looking into a flat? Now that you have regular employment, that is?" Mary asked, handing him an already made-out check without even standing.

"Yyyes?" Vance said, an eyebrow raised. "Will ya be makin' any suggestion on that flat?"

"The one next door is available for reasonable rent, or is that too close, now that she never wants to see you again?" Mary asked, blinking at him, genuinely curious for his answer. "The other side, that is. Not Jack's side."

"And I can afford that?" he asked.

"Have you looked at the sum on that check? And that's your advance," Mary said sweetly.

Vance looked down and coughed. He quickly pocketed it. "Yes'm. Thank you, Missus M. Piece of art you said?"

"Ah, yes. There's a bit of a trick to that," Mary replied and quickly told him of a wealthy private collector who had a piece of art that they were returning to it's native country. For a healthy sum, of course.

***

Finch was tired and felt gross, but she was at work, scrubbing down the bar top. She hadn't let them bully her into staying in bed too long. She was still angry with her mother, but she'd tolerated Mary's pettings and hovering because even after everything, Mary was her only mum. She could have a million dads but she's only got the one mum. 

"Slut!" a cheerful, tall, lanky man said, plopping down in the bar stool across from her. His head was shaved on the side, and his long white-blond hair was pulled up into a hipster bun. He wore tight leather trousers and a loose canvas jacket. Finch groaned. 

"Jesus, which one of them sent you?" she asked, using her upper arm to wipe her forehead.