Persona

by Amy Lunderman

“I’m Liam Morgan now dad, I haven’t been a black in months. You should be proud of that.”

  When his father slumps into his chair with a sigh, Liam turns and heads for the closed door without another word to the man. No matter how much his father wants to stay hidden and forget about the world, he knows they can’t.

  He refuses to just forget about everything that happened and was lost over the past couple of weeks. He may not be the smartest, or bravest man in the world or on the west coast; but he’d be damned if he’s just going to sit around to do nothing.

  He just needs a little help is all, and with that, a plan can be formed on the next move. A slow smirk slips across his lips as he steps out of his father’s office.

  He knows just who can help with this little agenda.

  Epilogue

  Closing the door behind her and leaning against it, Moira’s entire body relaxes as she’s finally by herself in the borrowed room. Not that she wouldn’t be grateful for company, but solitude is something she really needs at the moment.

  Especially given the fact that she flipped out again after thinking she was gaining some measurement of control. She wonders if she’ll ever have that back, and then wonders what will happen if she doesn’t. Either scenario gives her chills down her spine.

  Earlier that day in the library with Marshall, she actually felt like she did before she moved back to New York.

  It breaks her heart that she misses the girl she used to be, but then she remembers what she went through to get where she is today. The good things make it worth it, but the bad?

  She doesn’t know about that yet.

  It’s so laughable that she misses being the girl in a new school who was so shy and frightened walking into a full cafeteria. And now, she is the girl who flips cocky boys who try to make unwanted moves towards her and gets into even matched fights.

  Stepping away from the door with a heavy heart, Moira wonders if her father would be proud of her or angry that all she wants to do is give up and go home. Just thinking about him makes her chest ache and her eyes fill with tears.

  What she wouldn’t give to have him here and take her in his arms to tell her everything will be alright. She might even believe the lie if he were the one to tell it to her. But like thinking about Marty and how he isn’t here, it’s worse for her father, so she has to force herself to not think about them both.

  Tears form in her eyes regardless of where her thoughts travel, but she ignores them as she steps over to the dark wood dresser on the other side of the room for a pair of pajamas.

  Sliding off the cardigan sweater as she goes, it’s hard not to wonder if she could ever get used to this new bedroom of hers. Honestly, it’s every girls dream to have their own personal space, but maybe she is just picky when she feels the room is too grand.

  Walking up to the dresser that is to the left of the door, Moira just wants to fall backwards onto the bed and not move for a lifetime. This is where the too grand of a room comes into play though, since the bed is practically a foot away and she’d totally fall to the ground if she tried that. Maybe it would be fun to try it another day when her reflexes are a little better and she could use a good laugh; but not right now.

  Gently folding the cardigan, that she deems clean since she wasn’t in it for more than an hour, Moira places it on the top of the dresser for later use. Once her hands are free, she starts to reach for the hem of the camisole, but before her fingers even graze it there is a light knock on her door.

  Hands falling, Moira turns in its direction and her first thought is to run to answer it in case it’s Raven or Daisy. But before she even takes half of a step, she freezes knowing they are both busy with the boys.

  Not really caring who is at the door and only that they go away as soon as possible, Moira starts for it as another set of soft knocks protrude. She quickens her step and is about to call out to whoever it is that she is coming, but then it hits her senses and makes her pause.

  Cinnamon.

  It waifs under the door and skirts around her making her persona sing out to the spicy scents essence. She doesn’t need to ask or see who is at her door now, after all only one person has such an overwhelmingly annoying scent like this.

  The question is though, what is Liam doing at her door in the middle of the night?

  Didn’t he have enough of their startling connection drama back at the fire pit in the woods; she knows she certainly did. That awkward moment is enough to make her take a step away from the door and as she does the cinnamon scent fades a little from her senses. At least space helps out in this situation, and if only they could have that all the time and things would be so much easier.

  She is really contemplating not answering the door and wishing he’d just go away, when the knocking gets a little louder before stopping all together. Since she isn’t close enough to really sense him to check if he really left, Moira inches forward only to have his voice come through the door and practically make her jump out of her borrowed pair of flats.

  “Moira, I know you know I’m out here. Please open the door, there is something important I have to talk to you about.” Liam says in his usual deep drawling voice that makes her skin break out in goosebumps.

  Moira instantly scoffs at herself, always forgetting that he can sense her when she does him. She really needs to work on that, and the way her body reacts to him when her mind is thinking about something else entirely.

  She must be taking too long to decide, because she can hear him shuffle on the other side and push against it. She has the urge to press up against it too, just to see if she can feel him through it; but she doesn’t.

  She does however get the lead out, before she can start thinking other crazy things, and crosses through a cinnamon scented cloud and reaches for the door handle.

  Moira yanks it open before she can change her mind, and regrets it when he comes into view.

  “What is it you want Liam?”

  Trying to sound distant is a lot harder than she thought, especially while he stands there looking every inch of a tightly wound hottie.

  She would like to think she hasn’t noticed that sort of thing, but it’s hard not to with the way his jeans and shirt fit so nicely, that they could be a second skin. Then there is his sandy brown hair that lays just right on him and almost falls into his penetrating grey eyes.

  “I’d rather not say out here, where someone could hear. Can I come in please?” He asks in a hurried whisper.

  Not checking him out now, she notices that his body is rigid with tension and a pent up rage that she can almost feel trying to reach for her. It makes her persona hum just under her skin and gives her enough of a clue that whatever he has to say must be really important to him.

  Against her better judgment, Moira steps back into the room and takes the door with her and opening it for him to come in. Once he is inside, she closes the door behind him and by the time she is turning back to him, she finds that he is watching her curiously.

  No, not curiously, but rather like an animal wanting to rush its prey and maybe not to eat it.

  She realizes that she is no longer wearing her cardigan, and suddenly feels naked standing before him in just a thin simple camisole and skirt.

  It makes her remember when she was wearing something equally scarce the last time they were alone together like this. That night ended strangely for them. It doesn’t take long for her thoughts to start thinking about how this one will end.

  Crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to try to cover up without actually covering up, snaps Liam out of whatever trance he was just in. Blinking, he glances away from her and walks further into the room.

  He appears for a moment to take everything in, but then he quickly turns back to her. His eyes are now lavender, and the sight of them makes her persona thrill inside her, which causes her own eyes to get sharper with the change.

  He tenses as he sees the change, and immediately steps away from her shaking his head like he�
��s trying to remember why he is here or something.

  As his eyes search out hers, he says, “I have news about Gordon and Marty.”

  All thoughts and motor skills flee Moira, as the words Liam just said try to form a meaning inside her. Her mind tries to tell her that it’s all a lie and she couldn’t possible get what she wanted to easily, but her heart is screaming for her to find out more.

  “What news is there? They were arrested weren’t they?”

  “No, not arrested. They were taken by the Purist group from the warehouse before the authorities got there.”

  Moira is instantly livid and thrilled at the same time. Thrilled over what this could mean. That Marty and Gordon aren’t being tortured by Fletcher like she originally thought. And livid, because apparently they are with the Purists; meaning the crazy harpy Debbie that she met. If she has them, and Liam knows about it, then it can only mean she wants something from them.

  And that can’t be a good thing at all.

  “They are still after the reward money aren’t they, or me I guess really.” Moira says softly, not able to hide the quiver in her voice. “Right?”

  Sidling over to the foot of the bed, she slides down until she is firmly resting on the edge.

  “I wish that was all they wanted Mo. They want to make a trade. You, for them.”

  With a haunted look in his eyes, he cautiously steps up to her.

  He keeps his distance from her though and she wants in the worst way is for him to come closer and go farther away at the same time. This of course makes her feel guilty, which immediately makes her feel angry and frustrated.

  The only way to fix this confusion is to get her catalyst back; and that is Marty. If it means turning herself in, just to get him safe, she’s resigned to let herself get taken. This is something that has been worming into her head a lot lately, that if she wasn’t even rescued in the first place then everyone would be better off.

  But she was, and she feels the need to make things right now.

  “I think maybe we should make the trade Liam. It might be the only way to get them back, and that we have to do. I can’t let anyone suffer for me anymore.”

  Moira glances up at him with tears in her eyes, and prays that he understands where she is coming from on this. His lavender eyes go back to grey, when he give her this sad but strange little smile.

  “That isn’t an option Moira, you have to know that.” He says with a smile.

  Seeing him smiling at her while he tells her something she doesn’t want to hear, makes her get that uncomfortable nails on a chalkboard feeling.

  She is halfway to her feet and ready to start screaming at him, when he cuts her off.

  “We can’t trade you, because I want us to go and rescue them instead.”

  Hearing this, it only takes her a second to process it and when she does she is quickly on her feet. Feeling a surge of joy and hopefulness, Moira rushes at Liam with a bright smile on her face.

  She has her arms around his shoulders and is leaning up into him on her tiptoes, before she even realizes what she is doing. But she is too happy to even want to care, because this is what she has wanted in the worst way the last couple of days.

  And here is Liam, being her hero for the hundredth time and to help her get Marty back no less. Just thinking about Marty makes her sigh in delight, which in turn makes her sigh into Liam.

  ***

  Startled at the first contact of her body against his, Liam tenses and is unsure of what to do. All he can smell her apple pie scent and the urge to pull her closer to him is a strong one.

  As to not scare her off though, Liam slowly wraps his arms lightly around her. His hold is light, but it’s enough that he can feel the entire expanse of her soft warm body as it melts into his.

  His persona hums inside him and he can feel it reaching out to hers, but before he can find out if hers will even answers his in response or what it would mean if it doesn’t, she is already leaning away from him.

  His whole being aches and longs to have her back against him as the warmth of her quickly fades as soon as the contact is broken.

  Moira backs up a couple paces away from him and keeps going until she reaches the edge of the bed she lept up from. Her cheeks are bright with a blush, and her eyes are just as bright as they are a very emerald green of her persona.

  That answers one question for him at least; she still feels something for him.

  If only it mattered, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that even though he can scent her and almost feel her persona now, she averts her eyes away from him like her body. Liam finds himself shifting away slightly and playing at the short hairs on the back of his neck, as if they could help him feel less like a fool. He coughs to clear his not scratchy throat and before he can make the moment any more awkward by talking about it, she thankfully interrupts him.

  “So what are we waiting for, what do we have to do to get them back?” She says finally glances up into his eyes.

  He’s not going to lie and say he did feel anything when their eyes met, because he did. The brief hug meant more to him then she’ll probably know, not that he’d ever tell her that; he does have his pride. But he knows that he did make the right choice in coming to her about this.

  No one wants to get their friends back more than she does, and it makes him feel less like he’s trying to form a one man rescue mission.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t really go at this very second. But only because we don’t know where they are yet; that’s where the work comes in.”

  When she physically wilts, and slumps back down onto the bed, he wishes he had more to tell her. Or more importantly, more to go on. He hates to admit to himself that they are somewhat at the drawing board on this, but in no way is he about to give up though. And that is what he sees in her eyes as she gazes up at him.

  Worry that they don’t have a snowballs chance in hell.

  “They couldn’t have gotten very far right? I mean their leader is a psycho woman named Debbie; so I doubt they are all that bright.”

  Her hopeful voice dances across his skin, and her eyes search his for the answers she wants. Not able to take it any longer, Liam turns away from her and paces over to the window that is overlooking her desk at the back wall.

  It’s closed, but as he gets closer he can almost pick up the scent of all the herbs that are in the garden below it. He has never been one for picking out certain scents before, and it’s almost like since he first picked up her apple pie smell, his senses are on overdrive.

  Then again, maybe it’s his imagination and his own way of stalling before figuring out his next move.

  “I think you might be right about that, but it doesn’t really give us a lot to go on though.”

  His back is to her, and he can hear her shift on the edge of the bed and stirring the comforter around. This is the first time he is hearing about the leader of the Purists, and he wonders how Moira would know she is a psycho.

  He can feel the rage itching inside, as thoughts of her being hurt for in his mind.

  Startling him out of his thoughts, Moira says, “What does your dad think we should do next?”

  He turns back to her with wide eyes, and realizes he should have thought some things out before coming to her. Clearly he isn’t a mastermind and is missing some plot holes on what they should do. But how is he going to tell her that it’s just them, and no one else?

  That’s what makes him glance away guiltily, while feeling his own cheeks flame in the first blush he thinks he has ever had.

  “He isn’t actually completely on board with a rescue idea. Or to the fact that I, I mean we, would go ahead with it either.” He tells her hesitantly, as if anticipating a huge storm.

  Like he thought, she jumps up with wide eyes. But rather than looking angry, she seems startled like she can’t believe what he just said. Honestly, he can’t believe it either, and he’s the man’s son.

  “What? Why isn’t Marshall going along with his?
He doesn’t want to make the trade does he?”

  Seeing the fear in her bright green eyes, he gets right into shaking his head and trying to not make her so afraid. He takes a half step closer and has to refrain from the need to take her into his arms again.

  “No that’s not it, don’t worry. He just doesn’t want to risk…..” He trails off.

  He’s not really sure how to explain it without making his father look like an ass. So he bites his lip and remains silent.

  Understanding dawns in her eyes though, and he knows that she gets where he was heading before hesitating. Now she gets angry as she crosses her arms over her chest, that he tries to keep his eyes from, and rolls her eyes away from him.

  He can feel a rage rolling off of her in waves, and it feels like a stronger version of her persona, only this one has teeth and nails everywhere.

  “Oh I get it; he won’t risk people that aren’t worth saving. Am I right?”

  As angry as she is, and as strongly as he feels it, he knows by the tone in her voice that she is more disappointed than anything. He hates that she feels this way, but in no way is he unfamiliar with it. His father is known for making you feel hopeful and trusting in him, and then he rips it all away like it was nothing to him.

  It pisses him off that he made Moira feel this way; she isn’t used to it like he is.

  “Pretty much the gist of it, yeah. And I’d really hate to agree with him, but the idea of the trade is obscured. I may not want to risk you getting hurt, but at least I want to do something about it.”

  Surprisingly she isn’t shocked, and says “Yeah well, I’m not worth as much as you all think I am, so there you go.”

  Her eyes are downcast now as she avoids looking at him. But he doesn’t have to have her looking at him to know that she feels utterly useless; he feels the same. He wants not tell her that she is worth it, but instead keeps his mouth shut.

  Things are awkward enough, without him coming across like a stalker.

  So instead, they stand in silence as they both try to play out what the best thing is to do next. He could probably call Charles, but since he called his father and not him, he doubts that he’s be much help at this point. Liam is about to cave and call his friend regardless, when Moira clearly having enough of the silence, breaks it.