The traffic was bad due to the storm and there was still more rain to come. It didn't seem as if the West Coast was going to get a break from the weather for a while... Fitting with the current task at hand for Jessica and Roger. Her family was destined to meet Mr. Rabbit, or perhaps Mrs. Rabbit might show her wicked head for the first time! 

"Okay," Jes repeated, nodding softly as if she were convincing herself. Picking up her pretty blue hat she slid out of her window seat and moved toward the door. Roger was quick to her side, a gentle hand guiding her lower back as he held the door open for her. Jes smiled nervously as he opened the passenger side door, and guided her tenderly into the seat. Part of her wondered if he wasn't projecting his feelings about his mother onto her situation, but if it kept her from more ECT and fever therapy... or worse, she wasn't sure she really cared. 

As he slid into the car next to her, she blushed a little, "Are you sure about this, Roger?" Her eyes met his gaze with a hopeful twinkle, "I mean we only just met. I won't hold it against you if you change your mind. Really." Her smile was soft and genuine, "Just be honest with me about it." 

Roger was quiet as he looked for an opening in the traffic, "You never did answer my question, you know. How bad?"

He smirked as she asked. "Yeah... More than sure, dollface." He offered her a genuine smile. "Ya got a hard rap like mia madre, so it tugs my heart... But ya beautiful and ya laughter makes me smile, that's tuggin' somethin' else entirely." He winked playfully... "As well as my heart."

He focused on the traffic and pulled out into the cars that passed by.

'As for how bad? Let's just say I'm not a good guy, I've got my fair share of rough business proposals that I gotta check in on occasionally. Make sure my money keeps movin', capisce?"

He looked at her for a brief moment before looking back to the road as they drove toward Patton.

"Mia famiglia, straight from Sicily, doll. An' I grew up in a family of tradition an' ruthless business practice."

He winked, hoping she'd understand without him having to go into detail. Soon enough if she stayed with him she'd know anyway.

"Not all of my business revolves around legal practices." He took a left onto a side street and continued driving for a while in silence while she pondered on her next words.

"Hmm..." Jes mused softly to herself as she stared out the window, watching the familiar territory slide by. She might be a little crazy, but she was by no means stupid. Sicily, illegal business, ready to literally kill her Dad. Slowly the pieces clicked into place,  "Well, nobody's perfect. I knew there had to be something a little wrong with you." She turned to smile at him, poking his side playfully, "I was getting worried you were too perfect." She giggled softly, "I never thought I'd take crawling into bed with a murderer over losing my mind." 

As the easily-misconstrued weight of those words registered, her eyes went wide. "I mean... not in bed,  in bed..." she blushed, "at least, not yet." Glancing over at him, the corner of her mouth turned up in an uncontrollable, impish little grin.  "So... uh... Mafia, huh?" she changed the subject abruptly, dropping the word matter-of-factly... as if it held no meaning or weight at all. "I thought those types didn't... mm... blend well with Americans,"  she said with a curious perk of her brow, "Musta really been some serious falling out you had." 

Tucking her feet underneath her, she laid over on his shoulder. It was over an hour drive back to Patton, and they had a lot of getting to know each other to do. "What was your mother's name?" Her first question came softly out of left field, like a prayer on the reverent lips of the devout. And then it was like a damn broke...   "So... how does this work? I mean... are you actually gonna take me home with you? What's that like? Your house. I mean, do I stay with you or just with you? Do I need to... you know... do stuff... or just normal stuff? Do you have real family now or just 'family' family," she made quotes in the air as she spoke, "Like, if you're 'Mister Bunny' does that make me... no... that would be silly. We're not married."  She answered her own question and moved on to more,  "Do you make a habit of rescuing crazy girls from the rain? Or am I your first? And what exactly are you going to tell the doctors? And what about my Dad? I mean, I don't particularly wanna kill him, but, like, what if shit hits the fan?" She was surprisingly cool as that thought crossed her mind. It was almost like he was hugging a cucumber.  "There aren't gonna be, like, people buried under my room or anything, right? Cuz that would be kinda creepy. Not that I won't take creepy over a padded room  any day..." 

She was nervous. Roger could tell... as she prattled on to fill the silence with sound, "What's your favourite colour? Oh, could I cook for you? I love to cook... although I've never made Italian. Maybe I can learn. Burned the hell outta a lasagna that one time. What's your favourite food?" She paused to take a deep breath, realizing she was just filling the silence, and settled on a question she thought really mattered,  "Roger... What made you come talk to me today? I mean, why me?"

Roger laughed as she spoke, and then back peddled over her own words. Then the flood of questions came...

"My mother's na-" She interrupted...

"Well yea, why wouldn'-" Again she interrupted...

"My hou-" A third time... He couldn't get a word in edgewise and he finally just chuckled and let her finish the onslaught of questions before he would even bother answering. She continued for a good few minutes, just rambling and rambling on, but it didn't bother Roger one bit. He found the sound of her voice soothing and graceful. He placed a hand on her leg and gave it a pat, hoping it wasn't too forward even though she was already resting her head over on his shoulder and talking directly to his ear.

He could tell the rambling was nerves creeping up on her, and he knew she was scared and didn't know what to expect, which could make her a flight risk... However, he planned to make her feel as comfortable as possible...Between two strangers. As she finally brought her questions to a halt, he took a sidelong glance at her and laughed again.

"Why? Because ya looked stunnin' standin' there on tha beach, tha wind blowin' through ya hair. Ya looked peaceful, calm, sad, an' happy all in the same. Like a siren outta tha ocean come ta snare me in'er traps an' whims." He smiled and chuckled at her perplexed look.

"I couldn't help it, doll. I had ta come an' talk to ya. All pretty standin' alone. Ya called ta me an' ya didn't even know it."

He tapped his chin as he took another turn on their winding trip...

"Let's see if I can't answer those otha questions for ya too..." He smirked and cleared his throat. "Okay. Mia madre's name... Vittoria Noemi Cucinotta Coniglio." He smiled... It had been awhile since he'd given her full name. "Sì, amica, you'll be at -my- home. It's a nice place not to far from tha ocean." Another smile, he was CERTAIN she would love his house... "An' ya will have ya own room, but ya are welcome in mine if ya wish." He shot her a wink with a chuckle. "An' just normal stuff. You're gonna be -in- my life, but not a part of tha business. It's safer ya don't know anythin' about that... At least for now. Tha only famiglia I have, is tha famiglia I choose. Meanin' yaself now, too, toots."

Roger fished his cigarette case from his vest pocket and looked at it, "Ya mind?" He shook the case, and she shook her head no. Lighting up, he continued to answer.

"No, ya wouldn't be Misses Rabbit. Not sure anyone will -eva- be ready ta take on that moniker." He laughed...

"But maybe one day, doll. Maybe one day. Anyway, no, I don't make a habit of savin' crazy gals, just tha one's I like. As for tha docs? I don't really know yet... An' ya dad? Well, maybe we can visit him first an' make him release ya."

He puffed on his cigarette.

"Favorite color, red. Any shade. Yes ya can cook for me, an' I'm Italian... I love Italian!" He laughed. "I also like a good fuckin' burger though."

Jes smiled as he patted her thigh, laying a hand lightly over his to keep it there. "Well, how do you know I didn't snare you up," she joked, nuzzling him with a light chuckle. She listened attentively as he spoke; completely absorbed in him, as if his words were the single most fascinating and interesting thing in the whole universe. "That's a beautiful name," she said, mouthing the syllables slowly to herself... memorizing them like a catechism. 

She blushed when he winked at her, a mischevious glint sparkling in her green eyes. "Don't sell yourself short, toots," she said half teasingly, echoing his pet names playfully before her expression turned tender and genuine,  "For whatever it's worth, I think it'd be worth it... regardless of whatever wickedness you think you have in you or whatever danger you think you'd bring into a woman's life."  She shrugged, her slim arms sliding smoothly against his shoulder. She wanted to sell him some stupid line about 'I'll be your bunny if you want me to'... but even she wasn't quite that forward. 

She leaned over, kissing his cheek, and stole the cigarette from him; leaving peachy pink stains on the filter as she snuck a drag before handing it back. He had no plan... that was comforting. "I think I'd like you to meet my dad," she tossed her head back with a belly-deep chuckle, her curls sliding over his shoulder as she giggled. "If only to see the look on his face." It was a wicked, impish little sound... the kind of sound that would electrify someone with his... lifestyle. 

"OH!"  she giggled, slapping his shoulder lightly, "So it was the hair, right? It's always the hair."  She winked, teasing him about his favourite colour.  "I think I could get used to your company, you know," she confessed, suddenly serious and sappy again. Would there ever be a middle ground with this woman? Would he get tired of it? Or would she just always keep him on his toes? 

"So,"  she laid back down on his shoulder,  "Your turn, if you want... or we can just ride?" She glanced around at the scenery, "I think we're a little over half-way there."

Roger smiled as he continued to drive, the kiss on his cheek causing him to flush slightly. She'd broken through the playboy bunny exterior and reached the inner, warm fool that was beneath that cold exterior. He thought quietly to himself for a bit before he answered her...

"Well, if ya want me ta meet ya dad, what's 'is name first?" He chuckled, and continued, "But that ain't my only question, ya know?" He looked at her for a brief second before returning his gaze to the road in front of them.

"What was it like in Patton? Do ya have any brothers or sisters? Any love affairs? Yes it was the hair for me, haha!"

He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out.

"What's ya favorite thing ta do? Favorite color, favorite food ta cook an' favorite food ta eat, ya always lived in Los Angeles, have ya eva done somethin' against tha law?" He looked at her... "Are ya afraid of what might happen bein' with me?"

Jes giggled softly as she noticed him blush. It was an attractive look on him. Somewhere in her head, she knew it was because of her, and she liked it. Lightly, she brushed her lips across his cheek again. Not as bold this time. Gentler, yet with more weight and meaning. Her eyelashes fluttering lightly as she bit her lip and laid her head back over on his shoulder. 

"Merril," she said with a wrinkle of her nose, "His name is Meril McKenzie." Taking a DEEP breath she continued,  "Patton is... well, it's a psychiatric hospital." She chuckled dryly and gave a shrug, "It's clean and state of the art. The grounds are nice enough... but... I don't know. What do you want me to say? ECT is... terrifying, really. Even after you get used to it. It's like you... lose bits of yourself each time. Sometimes just for a little while. But sometimes for always. Fever therapy is excruciating. Worse if they go the Malarial route. Hydrotherapy is marginally better, but only marginally. They keep everyone pretty heavily medicated, mostly sedated. And if you don't show improvement, then they poke you in the brain and make your personality all go away. Some of the staff is really nice. Some of them are vicious. And the doctors, while they really are doing their best, are overwhelmed, underpaid, understaffed, and quite frankly often at their wit's end. And they have NO IDEA how to treat or understand women." 

Sliding the silver cigarette case from his pocket, she lit one and exhaled shakily. "I had an older sister. Jenny. She... passed... when we were teens. I think it's part of the reason my family's so fucked off. I'll tell you the story sometime," she promised with another heavy drag from the cigarette. She blushed a little, casting her eyes down as she came to his next question, "I've... uh... yeah. There was a guy a while back. He was... um... one of my doctors... the first time I was admitted." There was a hint of shame in her eyes as she looked away from him. Though whether it was over the doctor or her multiple admissions was unclear. 

With an airy, cover-up of a chuckle, she moved on quickly,  "My favourite thing to do is... probably just watch the clouds. They're everything I wish I could be most of the time. But... I'm..." she giggled softly, a light flush spreading across her pale chest,  "I'm actually kind of hoping you might give me a NEW favourite... sometime... eventually." She looked away from him so she didn't have to watch his expression, "As for colour... I'm starting to think that I'm very fond of HAZEL... other than that, I actually really like black. And anything that's BRIGHT."  She pursed her lips a little, thinking about food,  "I'd have to say my favourite food to MAKE is probably... mm... pancakes. But my favourite food to eat is definitely steak. As rare as I can get it. It's SOO GOOOD! ...um... We've lived in LA most of my life. I know we had a place in... Louisiana... I think it was... and Maine... when I was VERY little, but I don't remember any of it." 

She smirked wickedly at him as he asked his last two queries. So he like loaded questions... that was ok. She appreciated his upfront curiosity. "I've done a few things. All minor... mostly. A little self-medicating. Um... I escaped once, was on the run for a little less than a week. I stole quite a bit of stuff during that time... but just to survive. Um... and then I have a couple of assault charges... my dad and my doctors mostly." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. Partly because she was afraid of how he'd react and partly because she was afraid of the truth. 

Her eyes found their way to the floorboards as she half-whispered, "Yeah. I am." Glancing up at his face she continued, "I'm afraid that you'll get tired of me and send me back. I'm afraid that we might not be able to make everything ok. Part of me is afraid that you seem to think you're a bad man... but a bigger part of me is even more afraid that I might like it." The words tumbled out like a gushing spring as she fidgetted nervously in her seat, her fingers twisting and untwisting the gossamer fabric of her new dress as it draped over her lap. "I mean... if you really wanna know," she chuckled, realizing that... once again... she'd been all too candid with him. 

"Are YOU afraid... what might happen, me being with you?" 

Since the difficult questions were obviously no longer off limits, Jes decided to ask a few of her own as she navigated him away from the hospital toward 'home', "You're gonna need to take a left up here. Double back about two miles, and then take a right. My dad's subdivision is about ten minutes from us." Followed quickly by, "What's the worst thing you've ever done? Have you ever been in love? What happened between you and your dad? What's your favourite thing to do? What's it like to kill someone?," and then very meekly, "Should I be afraid of you?" 

She trailed off for a moment, realizing maaaaaybe some of those were a bit too far... but hey, she was nothing if not candid, and a bit in love with the dark. Flicking her cigarette out his window, she continued,  "And what do we do if my family refuses?" She looked up into his eyes with an expression of sheer dread and fear, "Promise you won't let them send me back? No matter what?"

Roger chuckled at her and her latter questions. What's the worst he's done? What's it like to kill someone? Should she be afraid of him? The last one, though he still chuckled, hurt slightly. Not because she asked, but because of the truth of his answer...

"Yea... Ya should be." He frowned a bit, growing quiet for a moment before resuming his banter. "I've got a string of charges that no one can eva make stick. Racketeerin', extortion, arson, traffickin', violence, assault... murder." He looked at her as she directed his driving, "But never ta someone who didn't deserve it an' stayed outta my way."

He turned his head back to the road and the traffic around them. "Ta kill someone... Tha first time is tha hardest, an' most of them stick wit'cha. It's sickenin for some. I chunked tha first time I did someone in. Afta fifteen years of it though, I've squeezed off so many triggas and pinched so many throats, that I've lost count personally."

They drove a bit more as he thought... "Favorite thing ta do is relaxing wit' a nice cigar an' a stiff drink, eitha watchin' some broads dancin' an' singin', or playin' poka wit' tha boys."

They continued, content, for a while until Jess directed him to pull up to a quaint, little house. He smiled happily, "It's a nice place!" He looked at Jessica, "And don't ya worry. If ya family won't change their minds? It don't matta none. None of it fuckin' mattas. Because ya comin' wit' me no matta what." He nodded. "An' I ain't eva sendin' ya back there."

Jessica's timing was just about spot on, and within 10 minutes, they were pulling up to a shabby little house in a rundown neighbourhood just inside San Bernadino County. Jes blushed a little as she climbed out of the car and led him up the short front steps to the front door. She was quite sure it was nothing like what he was used to. Inside, you could just make out the sounds of her parents discussing dinner rather loudly over the television from different rooms. Jes smiled, pausing to listen for just a moment before she wrapped on the door. 

The loud click of heels against linoleum could be heard as her mother hurried to answer the door. "I'll get it!" her voice echoed melodically. But the Stepford wife cheer quickly faded as she opened the door, a blank and blinking stare falling over her features as she looked up at her daughter with confusion and consternation. "Jessi, what are you doing here?" she said in an overtly louder-than-necessary tone, "You know your father's not going to change his mind. And you're not allowed home until after the procedure. Dad and your doctors agreed." 

The small framed woman seemed to shrink in the doorway as a tall man in a dark three-piece suit loomed behind her. "What inane insanity are you pulling this time, girl," the man spat over the woman's shoulder, and Jessica shrank back away from him - bumping into Roger as she did. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and as he did it seemed her parents actually saw him for the first time. Both of them exchanging looks of mixed suspicion and surprise. "Who are you bringing on to my doorstep today of all days, Jessica?" the man asked, his tone pitching up with an edge of exhaustion. 

With eyes cast down at her feet, Jes stepped a little to one side, making room for Roger to introduce himself. "Momma, Daddy, this is Roger. He has a proposition for you. And I... I think you might wanna hear him out.  Roger, this is my momma, Mary Helen. And my father, Merril." 

Merril looked at her with an air of tired cynicism; the kind of look expected from the time-worn parent of a behaviorally challenged child. "Jessica," he said with a huff,  "I am not in the mood for your shenanigans. Just go. You've got one day to rest before..." Mary Helen actually placed her hand in the middle of her husband's chest, her jaw set with obviously forced courage. "Let the boy speak, Merril," she demanded. "She has one day." Jessica's father shot her mother a dangerous glare, but moved away from the door, nonetheless. 

"Come inside, darling." She smiled at Roger as if he was the perfect all American boy next door; in a way that probably made him uncomfortable... in a way no one had probably looked at him in a long time... maybe since his mother died,  "I'll make some lemonade."

Through the whole conversation with her mother and father, Roger's hand rested on Jessica's shoulder, squeezing her tightly so she knew he was there for her... Squeezing tighter as Merril quickly irked the younger man.

As mother dearest invited them in Roger smiled to her, "Sì, per favore, that would be wonderful Mrs. McKenzie. Extra sugar, thanks." Merril rolled his eyes at the young man's request but showed him to the kitchen table where they could all sit; Jess, Roger, and Merril picking their places respectively.

"So what kind of bullshit story does my daughter have you believing Mr. Roger?"

"It's Mr. Coniglio," he interjected, somewhat rudely and poignant.

Merril narrowed his eyes but went along with it regardless, "Very well, Mr. Coniglio. What story does she have you believing?"

Roger leaned back in his chair, confident and full of smiles, fake as they may be...

"Well, ta be honest, it's me who has her believin' stories, sir. See, I'm wit' a new facility that practices newer forms of medication and therapies that have little ta no adverse effects on a person's personality. If ya let ya daughter come wit' me, then I promise I can help her wit'out tha scheduled lobotomy that will ensure ya neva really speak ta Jessica again..."

He looked at mom almost pleading for help, "Do ya really wanna spend this next Christmas wit' just a shell of a daughter, when she's tha only one ya got left? Or are ya really willin' ta kill her? Ya already lost Jenny..."

He looked between the two parents as Mary froze while stirring the lemonade.

Merril went to speak, but Roger cut him off before he could.

"Not ta mention, because it's still trial there is no cost ta yaself. In fact, ya might be able ta get payment for lettin' us treat'er if I's can get my boss ta agree on it. Ya see, it's still in tha pharmaceutical testin' phase and we need a few trial patients. Ya could stop payin' tha bill ta Patton, an' I'll reimburse ya today for any expenses or debt ya already accrued. This experimental drug, Nevagona Givayup, could give ya back ya daughter... Right."

Roger grinned... It sounded good, and honestly he hoped the money pitch would really help them out after seeing the house.

Merril's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Had Jes forgotten to mention he was a lawyer? Slowly, Merril leaned forward, crossing his arms over the table, his voice taking a dark tone, "Now listen here, son. First off, don't you dare utter my daughter's sweet name as if you know anything about my family. Secondly, I am offended that you would think you can buy our daughter. And thirdly, if I was to consider your offer... and I'm not saying I am... I wanna see your credentials. No company I've ever worked with... and we've researched a few... would ever send a rep without some ID. So let's see it."  The man smirked at Roger with a haughty air of superiority as Jessica shrank a little more. 

Mary Helen brought the lemonade around, her hands shaking nervously... must be where Jes gets it. As Jessica took a long gulp of the sweet-tart drink, she sighed a little, her voice meek and small... much smaller than Roger was used to, "Daddy, plea..."  She was cut short abruptly as Merril backhanded her, albeit lightly, in the mouth. "Shut your trap while the men are talking. I have half a mind to call Patton right now and have them send a unit for you and your 'friend'. You think I'm stupid, girl? You think I don't know what you're capable of putting this family through for your own selfish ends?"  

He glared at Jes with twisted disgust.  "You sit right there and look pretty, and if you utter a single word, so help me I will have you hauled back a day early and have them cut that pretty little red head open  TONIGHT!" Tears of shame stung Jes' eyes as she turned away from Roger. She didn't want him to see the hurt etched deeply on her features. Her shoulders shook for a minute in humiliation and indignation.

Slowly, calmly, she stood up; an absolutely wicked smile plastered on her face. Her mother choked out a whimper, slinking away to the sink, as Jes - lemonade in hand - walked slowly over to her father. Grinning with saccharine glee, she poured the entire cup, slowly, right on top of his head. 

The man turned the darkest shade of red Roger had seen since leaving home; cursing and sputtering with equal measures shock and rage.  "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"  he screamed, standing with fist raised, ready to slap her down. Jes, for once, didn't flinch. And it stopped her father mid-swing, his head cocking to one side with curious confusion and a hint of humour. "I'm sending you a message, Daddy dearest. Mr. Rabbit says 'Hi'. And I'm not going back. You understand?" 

The man's arm fell to his side, his face slackening to an expression of pure, flabberghasted shock. His brows knit together, in pained recognition. "Jes, what have you done?" he whispered softly as if all the air had been knocked out him in a single blow. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE," he screamed, hands wrapping around her neck as he turned and slammed her against the fridge. "How dare you? How DARE YOU?! Come into MY house and threaten ME with the ONE NAME I've been fighting for YEARS?!" 

Mary Helen whimpered, and sank to the ground in the corner; her hands gripping the sink as she hid her face in her arms. "HE KILLED YOUR SISTER!!" Merril roared in her face, "HE. KILLED. YOUR. SISTER." He repeated it over and over, slamming her head against the fridge with each screaming syllable. Jes, surprisingly, simply smiled up into his face. Her eyes placidly calm despite the squeezing darkness that threatened to steal away her consciousness. "I know," she croaked softly, "And now he's gonna take both your little girls... Daddy... dearest." Merril's grip slackened as he looked at his baby girl through a world of grief and anguish. How could she do this? Her eyes flicked to Roger. And the dark, empty glint there was almost chilling, "Now take your fucking hands off me, or I'll have him kill you and Momma, too." 

Merril released Jes, backing away and falling into his seat like someone just informed of a loved one's loss. Jes gasped and coughed, choking on the air that rushed into her oxygen-deprived lungs. She hinged at the waist, still leaning against the fridge as she struggled to catch her breath and stop the spinning in her head. Without looking up she whispered softly, "No gangster killed Jenny, Daddy. I was there... that day on Santa Monica beach. I was there." 

The silence that fell over the kitchen was heavy enough to make Roger's skin crawl. "Wh... whaaat," Mary Helen croaked from her crouched position near the sink. Jes finally looked up and met her gaze,  "I was there, Momma. I saw everything. Daddy's pistol... the pink mist... her hair... her empty eyes... the way her jaw... wouldn't stay on anymore. I was there. Just me. No one else." Jes' eyes sparkled with tears. "What... what are you saying, Jessica," Merril whispered breathlessly, "Did you...?" His face twisted in pained disbelief. "No Daddy," Jes shook her head and her red curls bounced around her face, "Jenny shot herself. Because of what Tommy did to her... and YOU got him off." Her gaze shifted to her mother. "I'm the one that called in the tip. Because I knew... I knew you could... you could never handle it. I thought it would make everything better. But it only made it worse... so much worse that you put me in THAT PLACE. And I've carried all of that with me every day since." Jes sniffled softly. 

"There's a letter in the bottom drawer of my writer's desk. It's been there for years. You can read it after I leave... but I AM leaving. With Roger. And you're going to let me. You're going to let me because you really don't want to lose another child... and because if you don't, I WILL  do things so much worse than I already have. I'm NOT  going back. I'm sorry." Her gaze shifted to Roger as she apologized... she told him she'd tell him the story one day.

Mom saw it... Jessica saw it... The only one who didn't see it was dear old Dad. Merril had his back to Roger, so when he was choking the girl and yelling at her, he missed the split second that Roger's gun flashed beneath his jacket as he stood to say something. He froze though, turning his head to Jessica and staring, oddly, for a moment.

"McKenzie... FUCKIN' MCKENZIE!" he slapped his forehead and shook his head at the same time as Jessica continued on with her story, her father backing away from her as she mentioned having Mr. Rabbit kill them as well. Roger chuckled a bit. Everyone looked to him and he shrugged.

"I shoulda known it was -YOU- McKenzie! Mr. Rabbit's said so much but I never put two an two tugeddah!"

Merril looked at Roger, "You know him?! TELL ME WHERE TO FIND HIM! I'll BURY him!"

Roger blinked, "For what? Shootin' ya daughter? I can tell ya that 'e didn't. Mista Rabbit weren't no where near a Jenny, an' 'e don't kill unless it's necessary. Just how tha bunny works."

Merril stepped over to Roger angrily and growled, "Now you listen here boy..." He took a deep breath. "You're gonna tell me what I want to know or I'm going to have you detained for kidnapping my daughter!"

Roger sucked his teeth and laughed. "Nah. I think ya need ta rethink ya approach." He put his hand on Merril's shoulder and pressed his thumb into the soft space between his neck and collar bone, pushing him down into his seat. "Because if ya haven't met Mista Rabbit yet, ya don't want to. Tha girl sends 'is message. I do to. He owns tha company that would pay ya back... But know, he didn't kill ya daughta. She killed 'erself because'a Tommy. Tha man ya let off tha hook for, too many things ya didn't know."

Roger looked at Jessica, sad eyes as he now understood the weight of it all.

"Now, I sugges' ya let Jessica go with me an' everything will be fine. Ya won't loose ya second daughta too. Capisce, cazzo?"

Merril and Roger stared intensely at each other in silence, Roger's hand still on Merril's shoulder.

Meril finally broke the intense stare, turning to glare at the floor in shame. To be so powerless and so disrespected in his own home. And to learn the 'truth'... or at least Jessica's version of it... it was almost too much. For a long moment, the kitchen was uncomfortably silent. Merril stared at Mary Helen - still crouched in the corner - as if there was anything she could do about the situation. Mary, in turn, glared at Jessica, loathing and disbelief etched deeply into her features; as if Jenny's death were somehow Jes' responsibility... her fault. 

"Get out." The words slipped from Mary Helen's lips in a dark, trembling whisper, "Get out of my house, you lying, deceitful, psychotic little WHORE!" Mary flung herself at Jessica with unexpected malice, slapping her in the face with each bitting, vicious word. Jessica took the weak blows in stride, holding her mother's wrists loosely until she collapsed into a weeping pile of fragile distress. "With pleasure, Momma. Just as soon as Daddy makes a phone call," Jes replied flatly, her eyes seeking out her father's sour expression as he smacked his lips in obstinate antipathy. 

"Don't call us that," Mary spat with caustic venom,  "Don't you dare call us that. YOU are not our daughter. Our daughters died seven years ago." With a writhing jerk, Mary Hellen twisted herself free of Jessica's grasp, retreating to the back of the house with a blank and empty expression, "My daughters are dead." 

Jessica hung her head with a resigned sigh. But rather than fight, she softened and said softly, "You're right, Mrs. McKenzie. I'm sorry for your loss. They were good girls. May they rest in peace."  Mary Hellen snerked without turning around. “Make the call, Merril,” she spat and disappeared down the far hallway.

With a heavy sigh, Merril shrugged off Roger’s vice grip and moved to the phone in the living room. Pausing with his hand on the receiver, he looked over his shoulder at Jessica, “You know… baby girl… if you do this, there is no coming back. You walk out that door, it’s forever.”

Jes set her jaw, blinking away the stinging threat of impending tears, and slipped her hand into Roger’s palm. “I know,” she said with an air of detached determination. Squeezing Roger’s hand lightly she gritted her teeth, grinding away the pressure she felt building in her throat. With an air finality, she nodded softly, “Make the call.”

Merrill sank into the worn, floral print armchair next to the phone with a weighty sigh. With shaking fingers he slowly dialled the familiar number on the rickety old rotary. Roger, ahead of the game, slid the notepad from behind the phone and quickly scribbled an address; laying it next to Merrill with a jabbing point to make it clear the discharge paperwork and files would be sent there... NOT HERE. 

With a tired nod, the man waved him off as the receiver crackled to life, "Hello. Yes, this is Merrill Mckenzie. I'm calling concerning my daughter Jessica... Yes, I know it's furlough week. That's not why I'm calling. I want to..." he paused for a split second, his eyes searching for hers before Roger stepped between them. "We've had a real heart to heart." he continued at Roger's prompting, "And we've decided... her mother and I... to give it one more try before moving forward with any further treatment." 

The received buzzed and crackled as a canned female voice prattled on at the other end, "Yes, I understand. Yes, I'll complete the paperwork from h... from our vacation home in Santa Monica. Mhmm..." 

His voice trailed into the background as Jessica slipped into the kitchen, tugging Roger along with her. "I don't think I ever thanked you for being my night in shining armour," she whispered softly, tugging his jacket to pull him in close. "You're a miracle worker, you know." 

The syrupy sweet smile she gave him surely sent tingles down his spine; and if he were smart, alarm bells off in his head. She leaned in close, just as Merrill was rattling off the address that he'd been given, "Yes, that's correct. Thank you. You, too." The click of the receiver echoed off the linoleum tile of the kitchen just as Jess seemed to fall through her would-be kiss. For a split second time stood still... but a split second was all it took for Roger to come to a complete and crashing understanding as his gun slipped from the holster beneath his jacket... clutched tightly in Jessica's small, pale hands. 

There was no time to lunge after her as a single shot rang out, the living room exploding into a cloud of familiar pink mist; the shocking ring of gunfire in enclosed spaces making her sway a little on the spot. Jess pressed her eyes together tightly, the quivering expression on her face clear, but she had no time for repulsion or regret. Within seconds, Mary Helen was screaming in the living room, melting (as was clearly her fashion) into a huddled heap on the worn carpet. With a sweet shooshing, Jessica wrapped her arms around the woman, cradling her tightly. "Shoosh... shooosh, Momma. Everything's alright. Everything's gonna be alright now," she purred, thrusting the cold barrel into the hollow of Mary's Jaw. The woman whimpered softly... just once... before another shot rang out. Pressing the gun into her mother's limp hand with an audible gulp, Jess stood to face her would-be saviour... hair and face dotted with blood. "We should go now," was all she managed to say before her knees buckled and gave way...

Her intoxicating smile, its bitter-sweet, over-played style... He should have known.

He felt her hand slip into his jacket, even as she leaned in to kiss him... He should have known.

He heard the click of the holster unbuckling and felt its lightened weight as she pulled it... He -SHOULD- have knows.

Yet somehow, some way, Jessica had made him loose his sensibility. In the split second it took, she'd taken his gun and fired off into her own father's head, brain matter flying as the bullet from Roger's .38 blew through him. He'd lunged, but it was all too late. Able to do nothing about it, Roger stared on in apathy as he took in just what was happening. Jessica was already at her mother's side, shooshing her as she pressed the barrel of his gun to her jaw...

Roger's eyes didn't even blink, none of him flinched as the second gunshot rang out. Her mother now limp on the floor, her jaw slacked and half missing. Luckily, Jess had angled the gun upward just enough to launch the bullet through her mother's head and taking her life... Otherwise she'd have lived a bit longer than anyone would have been comfortable with. Especially Jessica. There was enough trauma for her already and she didn't need a flailing, jawless mother to add to the things she'd see at night.

Jess pressed his gun into her mother's hand... She wanted to make it look like a murder suicide. Unfortunately, that wouldn't work for Roger. He already knew that police were able to match ballistics. It was really new technology still, and able to be discredited, but they'd nailed some wise guys for the St. Valentines Day Massacre in '29 using the technology already. His gun had been key in a few murders that were still "unsolved". No chances could be taken...

Roger began to walk over, and was about to speak as Jessica stood...

"We should go now..." she got out, and lucky for her Roger was already dashing toward her, sensing her frail state. He slid on the ground, catching her before she hit her head on the bloodstained carpet.

"Jess? Jess!" he called out, wiping his fedora off and using it to fan her. "C'mon doll, ya can't do this."

He smirked as she opened her eyes and looked at him. "What tha fu-, -WHY- tha fuck?" he laughed, continuing to fan her. "You need to take a seat, but I gotta scrub this a bit. Can't leave my gun like you're thinking... I think you're thinking?" He looked at her with an amused smirk. "Murder - suicide, yeah? That's what's goin' through that pretty little head a yours?" Roger helped Jess to her feet and sat her on the couch away from the mess... Though the scene was all still very vividly displayed in front of her.

Thinking he saw her nod, he grinned. "Okay... Okay..." Looking around he huffed and whispered, "Fuckin' shit..." Another chuckle escaped from between his lips before he put himself in motion. "Okay... I can work with this." He stooped and grabbed his gun, holstering it in place.

"Your dad, 'e's got a gun or somthin', right? Pistola?" He looked over to Jess who still seemed stunned. That was too be expected. She'd seen a lot but, she'd never actually been the direct cause of devastation such as this. It was written on her face... The first time she killed, it was a double homicide... And it was her own blood. Roger pursed his lips. He truly wanted to take that from her. In fact, he would have -gladly- done it for her (and had intended it, though it might be best she never knew that now). "Jess, doll, I need you here wit' me, now... There ain' much time an' we gotta stage this shit an' get tha fuck out, ya hear me? Anythin' ya can think of that'll help this?"

Jess clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. Her tired, green eyes piercing through him as she nodded slowly, deliberately. Surveying the mess, just once, she stood shakily and stilled herself before moving back across the room toward the kitchen.  "There's a .38 in the third drawer of Merrill's dresser. Under the Hawaiian print boxers. It's not a revolver... but it should be close enough." 

She paused as she passed the table, her short nails digging into the soft vinyl cushion with a white-knuckled grip as she choked back a strangled cough. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head; red curls bouncing loosely around her face as she pushed through the overwhelming urge to vomit. It was a feeling she'd grown accustomed to at Patton, and one she'd learned to control with some effort. Clearing her throat, she straightened once again, calling softly over her shoulder, "I'll be back in just a moment. I'm going to fetch a few things." 

Roger surely thought she'd wander off to spew in private, but (perhaps to his surprise) the only sounds that echoed from the back of the house were the sliding of drawers and soft rummaging. Astoundingly, she was remaining steadfast in whatever amount of lingering resolve she had. 

Returning after a few moments later, she pressed an early 30's model Colt Super .38 Semi-Automatic into the palm of his hand, followed shortly by an aged and yellowing envelope. The outer sheath had certainly seen better days, but the carefully folded letter within was nearly pristine. As Roger's eyes played over the curly, cursive words, everything became dazzlingly clear: 

I woke up this morning knowing that you will never change and you will never understand. All the pain you've caused this family, it will never come to light. Because of who you are. I've spent so much time praying that one day you might see what you've done, to me, to all of us. I've spent months searching for the light at the end of the tunnel; years hoping beyond fragile hope that we could find a way to be a family again. But I see now, that will never happen. Perhaps, at least now, justice can truly be served in some small way. 

 

Jessica, my sweet little bird, I want you to know that I really did try to find a better way. There simply isn't one. My only hope, now, is that you can eventually find a way to forget or forgive in the ways that I can not. I'm so sorry things have to be this way.

No signature. It was perfect. Almost too perfect? Had she planned this from the beginning? Was Roger just some patsy in her end-game ploy? Had he really allowed himself to be played THAT HARD? For a moment he had to wonder. But something about the rawness of her fragility told him otherwise. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from him, trying to hide the crushing overwhelm that was clearly building behind her eyes. She needed to leave. They both needed to leave. And soon. 

Roger saw it all as she planned it out. He took the gun and pulled one bullet from its magazine. Surprisingly enough, he produced a small, cylinder object that he screwed on to the .38's barrel.

"It's not perfect, but it should work enough..."

Pressing the gun into Jess' mother's hand, he slipped her finger over the trigger and pointed the gun away from them. Firing a single shot into the wall behind where Merrill would have been, Roger nodded. The gun made a quick, -pew- noise but that was it. Jess even blinked, as if saying that's all?!

Roger took a handkerchief and unscrewed the silencer, setting the wrapped and heated metal on the table. One shot wouldn't have it -too- hot, but it would still be warm enough to not want to touch directly right off the bat. He then positioned Jessica's mother where it looked like she had shot Merrill, then left the note on the table, and killed herself afterward.

"Perfect as it's gonna get on short notice... Hopefully this is cut an' dry enough they don' ask too many questions." He nodded to Jess. "You have any things ya wanna take with us, doll? Grab'em now, or foreva fugeddabout'em, capisce?" He stood, grabbing the silencer and stuffing it in his pocket. "'Ey, an' next time, warn me... I coulda made sure this was a lot more quiet..." He chuckled and shooed her along, either to the door or to pack her things.

He cracked open the front door and peaked around... If anyone had been looking, they weren't any longer. He wasn't certain if anyone had called the coppers or not, so he took Jessica's hand and led her quickly out of the house and shut the door behind them. "Lock it doll..." he handed her the keys to the house and walked casually to the car to start it.

Soon as she was in the car, Roger put the vehicle in reverse and backed out slowly. No need to tear out of there and draw more attention to the house or themselves.

"Need anything from tha crazy house, or ya ready ta neva see that shithole again, babe?" he grinned, looking at her as they pulled up to a stop that would lead them on to the main highway... Left or right would be her decision. Patton, or her new home.

As Roger's smooth sports car purred away from the McKenzie residence, Jes tucked herself under his arm and curled up for the long drive ahead. Part of her ached to turn back and stare out the back window at the little blue house of her childhood slowly shrinking into nothingness behind them. But she knew - for better or worse - that part of her life was behind her now. In more ways than one, walking out the door with Roger was forever. There was no going back. Part of her was sad to know that she would never see any of it again. But not enough to return to Patton like a good little girl. No, this was better... even if it hurt like hell. 

Roger lit a cigarette and rested his cheek lightly on top of her head.  "It'll be okay, doll," he reassured her softly, "Once we get ya's all settled in, I'll find a nice way to take ya mind off it." He rubbed his cheek lightly against her forehead in a way that told her he knew all too well the bittersweet melancholy she was feeling as they left everything she'd ever known in the dust behind them. "It wears off faster than ya realize," he assured her softly. 

Jess nodded gently, but remained quiet for a long while; her pearly white teeth digging into the sensitive flesh of her lower lip as the wheels in her head churned into overdrive. She seemed far away as her thoughts spun ceaselessly behind her tired, green eyes. After a long while, she shook her head, sitting up to look at him with an expression of sombre resoluteness. "I could go my whole life and never wear another fucking white dress," she said with a dark chuckle as he asked about the 'crazy house'. 

"Let's just go... home." Her voice lilted up as the word hung in her mouth a little, like a question. It felt heavy and gangly, like a child in the midst of an awkward growth spurt. "Yes. I think I'd like you to take me home now," she nodded again, with more surety this time. 

"And thank you," she rested her head against his chest for a split second before it popped back up once again, "And I am sorry. I never intended... I mean I didn't really mean to... It wasn't my... I just...."  with a shivering sigh she curled into him once again, as she settled into the bone-deep ache that clawed at her.  

"I know my father," she whispered softly and surely, "I know as surely as the sky is blue he was already working out backtracks and contingency plans. It's in his nature. He's not the kind to just give up. That's why he makes...made," she corrected with an audible gulp, "such a good lawyer." She spoke softly, with a kind of weight that Roger would understand easily.   "He had no intention of letting me go. I'm sure of it. I saw it in his eyes... the rage and disdain. He would have kept pushing... and hunting..." 

Trailing off she stared out the window for a bit, watching the little ripples of terrain roll by. "I'm just sorry I put you in the middle of it," she said softly, nuzzling him tenderly as she stole his cigarette away. Taking a long, slow drag, she inhaled shakily and exhaled the plume of smoke with a stuttering huffle. Glancing down, he could see the green tinge colouring her pale features as she sat up and pushed away from him. "I'm gonna need you to pull over soon,"  she admitted with a feverish flush. Even the most practiced pretenders could only hold off the inevitable for so long. And it looked as if she was nearing her limit. It was almost impressive that she'd held it together this long. But, truth be told, she'd rather lose it in private on the side of the road than make a mess of her new home. 

Roger hit the brakes, pulling off to the side quickly. He reached across her and stole his cigarette back so she could freely leave the vehicle and loose her gelato...among other things. He smiled as he shook his head, mouthing quietly, "And this, too, shall pass... I promise it gets easier, doll."

He took a puff from his cigarette and spoke up, "You know, he wouldn't have chased you... Ya didn't put me in the middle of anything that wasn't already planned, doll... Ya just altered tha script a little, ya heard?" Roger chuckled a bit as he stepped out of the idling vehicle and made his way around to her side. "Go on, get it out..." He placed the cigarette between his lips and scooped both hands around her head and pulled her hair away from her face. Once in a good ponytail hold, he let go with one hand and plucked his cigarette out, tossing it aside.

"That's it... Breath slowly. Slowly... Oh, mhmm... That's... That's a lot." He rubbed her back with one hand while he continued to hold her hair with the other. Once it was certain she'd either finished, or lost everything already in her stomach, he leaned back into the vehicle and plucked a clean handkerchief from the console. "Here ya go, dollface. Let's clean ya up, hmm?" He wiped her forehead then her mouth and offered her the hankie.

She cleaned herself up as he waited, and once she was done he helped her back into the vehicle. Roger rubbed her shoulder a bit more before leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Ya did good, bun. Real good. I'm proud'a ya." He pushed his forehead on hers for just a moment, then got out of her face before he overcrowded her. Looking down the road, he hustled around the car and hopped back in the driver's seat. "Okay... Home it is..."

With the pedal to the floor, Roger peeled off down the long stretch of highway that would take them back in to the city and, ultimately, to his home.