169 Shades of Grey(Abeiya, Toph13139, and CS123)

Lane had not quite expected her to respond as she had, but he wasn't certain what he'd anticipated initially.

"You're welcome. Just... if ever you need to come to someone, whenever you feel comfortable, I'm here. But... I want to be sure you'll be safe tonight, Callan."

He winced slightly at his own words, their uncertainty almost guaranteed. He couldn't sit back now, could not take anything back. Everything he'd expressed was true.

Callan's body quaked mildly. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold, the fear, or the chemical cocktail confusing her systems. She managed a nod at Lane's statement. Her awareness of her own body was slipping away from her, leaving her with an in-between feeling. A feeling of numbness and warmth at the same time.

Her mind brought her somewhere else. Drowned her in slightly warm darkness. And the rest of her carried on on autopilot. Blink, breathe, speak.

Her head hung loosely on her neck and she stared at the cheap floor mat between her feet. The words flowed freely from her mouth. "I... don't want to go back there, but I have to," she mumbled toward the floor.

"You... you don't have to," Lane replied, though his concern only multiplied as it become clear that Callan's consciousness was fleeting. He glanced toward the rearview mirror of the driver, and then again to Callan.

"Sir... I think we may need to change our destination," he said, quietly as he could while still remaining audible. He had not wanted to make any decisions for the girl beside him, had wanted to earn her trust, but there were risks he was not willing to take in a situation such as this one.

Callan gave a small nod. Slowly, she pulled herself into an upright position and leaned her narrow shoulders against the door. Her head came next and before she knew it, her eyes were closed and the sounds surrounding her were muffled.

She was so tired. And so warm. She let unconsciousness take her hand and lead her away.

He agreed to take them to the hospital, and Lane willingly permitted half his paycheck to be transmitted to the man. In a brief moment of panic, he futilely attempted to wake Callan, before deciding to attempt to lift her out of the car. She wasn't awfully heavy, but he wasn't particularly strong either. Regardless, he took her all the way through the emergency doors, setting her gently into a waiting room chair before approaching the desk.

"My friend... she may have overdosed on painkillers and alcohol."

Callan's consciousness fell in and out of focus. Sometimes she'd open her eyes and look around blankly, seeing, but not truly perceiving the things around her. Other times the opening of her eyes would be brief, a pause from a long blink or a lapse from unconsciousness.

She remembered snippets.

In one moment she lurched forward slightly because the cab had ceased to move.

In another, she felt the chill of the outside air and tried to curl up, but found that she could not. She opened her eyes briefly and noted her proximity to Lane's face, but not the fact that her feet were not touching the floor.

And now she had her back against a rather uncomfortable, cheaply upholstered green chair. It made her feel sore. Lane was not near her. She went back to sleep.

Fortunately, other emergencies paused while the personnel took Callan from the chair and brought her toward a room. He wished he would have held onto her longer; she seemed uncomfortable in the chair and he had begun to regret the trip altogether. There was always the chance that, regardless of the severity of her intoxication, the majority of it could have been treated... not at a hospital. But he hadn't wanted to take any chances.

He followed them down the hall and stood uncomfortably outside the door, as they began to run tests. If this "visit" had been for naught, there would be consequences. Even if she absolutely needed to be here, there would still be consequences. He could only hope this didn't plunge the girl deeper into the darkness from which she had obviously emerged from that night.

Callan could feel herself being lifted from the chair. Then two people underneath her arms. She stumbled the first few steps and then a wheel chair was brought for her. Someone sat her down in it. All the motion made her dizzy. She wanted to throw up as they rolled to the examination room.

She was lifted again from the chair to the cot. "Miss?" someone asked, "Miss can you hear me?" She gave a weak nod. "Good. What is your name?" Her eyelids threatened to close, "C-Callan. Callan Kanicus."

"We're going to run some tests. Do you know what you took?"

Callan swallowed the saliva that quickly filled her mouth, "Three hydrocodone acetaminophen. F-Five hund-dred."

"What were they prescribed to you for?"

"What?" Callan asked, unable to discern the words. The person repeated the question. "Oh. I have sc-sciatica."

"And how many drinks did you have tonight?"

She struggled to remember. Her eyes remained on the floor, "F-Four." Her head threatened to float away.

"All right, Miss Kanicus. Stay calm and keep your eyes open if you can." She felt a blood pressure cuff close around her arm and squeeze. "Normal," she heard someone say. She felt a stethoscope on her back, heard commands to breathe. She obeyed. She was asked to do a few other things. Except for a slower heart rate, she heard someone say everything was normal. She leaned forward.

"What is that?" someone asked. "What happened to you?"

Panic. This was a hospital. It was all sinking in. Her eyes opened wide for a moment, but she forced herself to calm down. "I-I... I was moving a heavy box upstairs. My leg gave out and I fell. L-Landed on my back." Silence. "I-I'm fine. Just c-clumsy."

((I deserve my sig))

Max smirked at the young girl's question. If only she knew what kind of man he truly was - if she knew why people steered away from him and the ones he protected - she would not be speaking to him that way. Yet, he liked it. He liked defiance. Because that meant he had the chance to bend someone else at his whim.

"My story? It's a pretty common one. Was born poor and with these eyes. Then I decided that it was stupid to be condemned for having these eyes and living in Mono. Just got tired of bullshit. But I was at least 15 years old when I started to think that way. And I was 19 when Red Eye was only a baby project. You're still young. Very young."

---

The brunet raised a single eyebrow at Gale's oh-so-natural charm. It was one of the things he absolutely adored about him. It drove him insane, to be honest. Allan knew that the man just couldn't help being that way, but still he couldn't help but to feel a little... threatened, jealous... at the fact that Gale had an easier time giving those kinds of smiles to strangers than he did to Allan.

The Tux was still strangely empty. Every other person - couple - in Mono were either at the Toucan or in one of those no-good gang-bars. The food arrived before either of them said one word to the other, or maybe he and Gale just spent that crazy amount of time in silence. The music in the place was extremely relaxing. Jazz. Very appropriate. Allan didn't touch his food, instead, he took a sip of his water.

---

Emilia snorted. "Oh, so she didn't tell you? Well, ask her, not me, John. I'm not your girlfriend." He definitely had some nerve to call her. Amira even more. What kind of relationship was it that they couldn't even speak of the simplest things? She didn't get Amira. She didn't get John. She didn't get their relationship. And honestly, she didn't care anymore.

"Hm. Yeah, I've heard that one before. Do you want to see something?" Kameran replied, calculatedly. She pulled the sleeves down from her hands and up her arms, revealing the tiniest residues of orange and red paint. Small dots caught on skin and the hair, where it still grew; there were other marks she'd rather no one else see, but she measured that against this. Her palms and fingertips, if examined very closely, also held the evidence of her illegal activities. The colors matched the wall on her apartment building.

After a few moments, she rolled her sleeves back down and lit the second to last cigarette from her pack.

"Aren't you cutting it a little close? The crowd seems to be dying of suspense in there," she said, as if she could hear their thoughts just beyond the door; though the noise was increasing, the woman's song was louder near the ivory alleyway.

---
Lane paced in the hallway, trying to come up with some way to face Callan when she would have to leave; or if she couldn't that night. He always erred on the side of caution, but this may have been one degree too far.
---
"Really? You're not my girlfriend? I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND. I HAD NO IDEA YOU WERE NOT MY GIRLFRIEND."

"Hm. I would ask her, if she was speaking to me. Or anyone else for that matter. What the f-ck happened back there, Emilia?"

Gale fixed his napkin on his lap and plunged his fork into the food on his plate. He twirled it around carefully, wrapping pasta around it before taking a neat bite.

He looked across the table at Allan and tilted his head to the side a bit as he chewed. He swallowed, "Allan? You all right, man?"

---

One of the nurses sunk down to make eye contact with Callan. The sudden closeness made her jump. "Here. Take this," the nurse slipped a piece of paper into the young woman's hand. She held it in a weak grip. "Your reflexes are slow, but you should be back to normal by tomorrow. It just needs to work its way out of your system. You need sleep and water. If anything is bothering you still, please come back. And never take more than the recommended dosage of those painkillers. We ran you through the system, your bill is all set."

Callan nodded, her raven hair swaying gently with the motion. She let herself fall through a crack in the floor as someone helped her from the cot and she placed her feet on the ground. It was as if she was watching these things happen to her from the ceiling. "Miss Kanicus? Is that your friend?" the person leading her motioned to Lane.

"What?"

"Is that who brought you here?"

"Oh... Yes." She rubbed her eyes and the person guided her toward Lane. The nurse explained in a hushed tone that she was to go home and rest. She expressed concern over Callan's physical condition in an even quieter voice and said that if there was another problem like this, she would need to seek more help.

Callan swallowed, trying to ward off the shame of it.

Lane nodded in response to the woman's words, before taking Callan's arm and leading her out the doors to obtain yet another cab.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping she would be able to seek more help, even if it wasn't in him. He knew what he'd done might be seen as a betrayal, seen as negative; and there was the distinct likelihood the outcome was in fact, negative. Yet the moment he'd left, he'd known the unspoken contract that he'd made when he said he'd bring her home. That was all she had asked...

Callan leaned on Lane to keep her balance, as the ground swayed gently back and forth under her feet. "It's okay, Lane," she murmured, "Y-You... were just worried." She reached into her pocket and pulled out enough money to cover the cab fare to the hospital, "H-Here."

She walked with him in silence for a few moments before saying, "Lane? Thank y-you for helping me."

Lane was surprised by her gesture; he would have attempted a polite decline, but he knew better than to turn down the money in their circumstances.

"Thank you for letting me."

He folded her currency gently and placed it into his pocket, and looked out at the parking lot; orange streaked metal creatures quiet as their passengers awaited and attempted to practice healing inside.

One moved from the street to the edge of the lot, entering, approaching the entrance; another cab.

"Callan... you can call. Anytime. If you need anything. To talk or... anything."

The air cooled as the early morning approached. He had no idea what time it was. If the apartment was empty.

Max nodded in approval at the girl's paint marks. She was a rebel at heart, he could tell; very much like himself when he was her age. He didn't know if he should worry or exploit all that energy. But Max knew himself to well to know the answer to that question.

"Very pretty," he said, taking a last, long drag out of his cigarette. He kept the smoke inside as he threw the filter on the floor and finally exhaled. "I liked your artwork. Make sure to clean yourself thoroughly."

Max glanced at the entrance door, smiling at the people's roars and cheers. He didn't know what was happening inside, but he was certain it wasn't because of him. His people were merely having a good time with each other. Max took his phone from his pocket, no missed calls, therefore Ares still hasn't checked his phone. "Nah, it's not for me. They're just drunk and happy. Probably a fight is about to break out. I'm having second thoughts on the whole speech."

---

Allan snapped his head towards Gale when he heard his name. He was too busy trying to drown in his own thoughts to try to make some conversation. Allan gave him a weak, completely unconvincing smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

---

"Oh, be careful with those words, Johnny." It was as if those people forgot who they were talking to. "You should try to ask her again. I know you're dumb and don't ask stuff when she's upset, because, well, again, you're dumb. Don't call again, okay?" And with that she hung up. Immediately afterwards she dialed the number of her friend Ginevra and waited for her to pick up. She needed to vent so bad.

The taxi pulled up next to the curb, reacting to a weak wave from Callan's hand. She would make sure that Lane got home all right. Mono wasn't exactly safe during the hours before sunrise. The driver, upon seeing Callan's condition, came out and opened the cab door.

She crawled in across the seats, leaving room for Lane.

"Where to?"

Callan looked at Lane.
---

Gale pursed his lips, unable to hide the concern that crept into his eyes. "You look down."

---
Ginevra heard the familiar melody of her phone and closed her magazine again. She reached over and answered it. "Emilia? How did it go?"

Lane thanked the driver quietly, sliding cautiously into the backseat after Callan. He looked over to her as well, and then toward the driver.

"Bloom," he said, almost inaudibly, but decisively. He had wanted to take her somewhere she would be safe, but the morning would soon come and the status quo might even seem restored. But he'd extended his hand and he hoped she would take it. There was no further he could go this night; still, the idea of her life now set him anxiously in the vehicle, and as the driver began to take off in direction of the Scheme, he thought desperately of ways to keep Callan from the man that hurt her.

---

((I'll complete this after work. o.o))

"Thanks. I'll make sure of that next time.

Callan crossed her legs, looking anxious as the cab rolled on toward Bloom. What if Ares was awake when she got home? What if Max had said something? It seemed like something that rodent would do. She kept a white knuckled grip on the edge of the seat. How could I have been so stupid? I went out alone and I didn't tell him. I took advantage of Ares. He hates that. He hates that. What am I going to do?

She bit her lip, staring through the windshield as color seeped into view. I deserve it. I deserve it for being stupid like this.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Lane whispered to Callan, sensing her trepidation and already regretting his earlier word. He mentally devised all the ways he could bring them elsewhere, in spite of their first destination growing nearer with every second. Even if they didn't work, what else could he say to her, to at least plant a seed? There was no doubt that she'd been lied to, far too many times... these hours spent together were so insignificant compared to the damage that he knew had already been done.

---
"Thanks, I'll make sure of that next time," Kameran replied, before taking another drag on the cigarette she had just started. The noise was increasing, and it did sound a bit too cheery, but it wasn't hard for a crowd like them to turn into a mob. Even several, pitted against one another.

"Nah, it's not for me. They're just drunk and happy. Probably a fight is about to break out. I'm having second thoughts on the whole speech."


"Really. Hm... now that's interesting. Why would you be uncertain about a speech? Or is it the nature of the one you planned to deliver?"

---
John was momentarily incensed by Emilia's callous and ignorant words; he [i]would talk to Amira, if she hadn't been entering a nearly catatonic state. Defeated, he walked quietly as possible to their room, where he'd left her almost asleep earlier; her eyes were still closed, her breathing deceptively even.
---
Damir struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched the woman sing at the front of the room; he tried to hear her voice over the voices of the crowd, as their drunken energy began to multiply. Of all the places, at any moment of his life, surrounded by people drinking and restricted from doing so himself. And he could only imagine what happened when these other were not here. If this beginning was any indication of what would become of him if he remained with Red Eye... well, he supposed there was much more to see. Things could only get worse.

Sighing shakily, he looked into the container of his painkillers and wished for more; they had begun disappearing, along with his other, equally strong medications, and not just from overuse. As the drinks from earlier began to wear off and the outer world and his own thoughts became clearer, he realized the disappearances contained no mystery. His door was easy to unlock from the outside.

"Goddamnit," he whispered to himself. And now he could only see where the snake of a kid had gotten him. He put his arms on the table and sunk his head into them. This couldn't possibly be his actual life, could it?

Max smiled once again. This girl never ceased to surprise him. She was so sharp, she was perfect for Red Eye. He knew she would do better if she went to school and put those brains of her to good use, but that wasn't going to help his cause, would it? And he definitely needed someone like Kameran to watch over Damir while the both of them went out to do some field work.

He chuckled at the girl's words and shook his head. This girl was such a firecracker. "I'd prefer to speak to them when they are not drunk and about to start an orgy."

---

Allan scratched his head and closed his eyes. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table, massaging his eyes afterwards. He didn't feel like having this conversation. "I'm not down, just tired, you know?"

---

Emilia rolled her eyes. "He called me to ask what was wrong with Amira because she wouldn't tell him. As if I had any sort of duty towards her after what she did to me!" What a nerve those people had. Amira better apologized to her if she wanted to speak to Emilia ever again.

---

Ditte was busy for most of the night. Always serving the drinks with a small smile on her face, with her eye on the newbie making sure he didn't sneak a glass of anything without her permission. The night went on and her mother kept singing, every now and then with interludes of several minutes for her to rest and the band to do what they did best, which was to serve as a very expensive decoration.

In what felt like several hours blurred together, Ditte's shift was over, but she noticed the tired look in the newbie's face. She shook her head as she took off her apron, saving it in a cabinet beneath the bar, and walked up to the young man. "Hey! Don't fall asleep in here, someone's gonna punch you for getting in the way." She placed her arm around his shoulders and pulled him up. "Follow me, you will stay with my Mom."

Kameran smirked.

"That sounds wise, considering. Well, you can be reassured that you'll have at least one person's undivided, entirely sober attention, when you do finally reveal your master plan. And I'm sure you'll obtain more than enough enthusiasm from the rest."

---
"Hm?" Damir said, as someone attempted to pull him up from the table. He vaguely recognized the voice, though the bar did not quiet anymore as the woman finished her song.

"Your mom?" he muttered, wincing slightly as he was brought to his feet abruptly.

"What am I getting in the way of? Or am I occupying a frequently turned over or broken table?"

Max gave the girl a seemingly genuine smile. "I don't think your sober ears will be enough for my speech. I'll just give it sometime later. To other ears. What's your story?"

---

Ditte sighed as she dragged the man towards the emergency exit behind the stage. She nodded at the singing woman on the stage, who nodded back, and Ditte proceeded to take Damir to the other side of the apparently luxury building. "Yes. You are. And you need to sleep. I told you I needed you at your best."

"I suppose that's reasonable," the girl replied. She took another drag on her cigarette, as she formulated a response to the latter portion of Max's words.

"I have a fairly common story, so uninteresting I'm not even interested in hearing it."

Kameran wasn't very impressed with herself, but that response would have to do, in spite of not meeting her own expectations. And it was at least partially honest; something her actions scarcely were.
---
Damir followed slowly beside Ditte as she led him away from the main building. He'd assumed it was smaller than the size it appeared to be from the inside. He could feel a headache approaching like the sound of a semi-truck with three tires speeding down a highway from two miles behind him. And the near-constant pangs of his old injuries was growing sharper with each step. And of course. That empty container continued to occupy space in his thoughts.

He imagined himself laughing bitterly at Ditte's mention of 'sleep'. He only managed a grimace, and continued following her lead. If only he'd sleep. And if only sleep actually felt like rest.

"Sure," he muttered, as they crossed into a corridor leading elsewhere in the plush spaces of the Red Eye headquarters. The brilliant hues would have been notable to him, had he not been distracted.