The Last time
Title: The Last Time
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Series: Kidverse
Characters: Lacey Harkness, Max
Summary: On Saturday, Lacey was kidnapped by the world's worst kidnappers, on Sunday, she broke up with her boyfriend, On Monday, Max found out why.
Author's Note 1: For those who are not in the ij game "Blame Canada", Max is an original character. He grew up on Mars three hundred years in the future. Met Lacey and her Time Agent friend Jonah, and the rest as they say is history. As you can see in the Icon, he looks like Tory Belleci of Mythbusters fame.
Author's Note 2: Written for the hc_bingo with the Prompt: Bruises.
Warnings: Discusses Domestic Abuse. If this is triggering to you, please, skip this story, you won't hurt my feelings.
It was almost nine when she left the Hub. She headed towards Max’s flat. She rolled her neck, wincing as it creaked. It was still sore from the time she’d spent unconscious, head hung to her chest. That whole kidnapping thing was so lame. It had been two days and she still was bitching about it. She also hadn’t stopped bitching about Jake and Gwen forcing her hand like that. Why should it matter whether Owen knew or not that she’d broken up with her boyfriend?
She let herself into his flat. Once she had the door shut, she winced. She’d been doing a good job of hiding how badly her wrist was sprained, hiding it even from Owen. She hated lying to the medic, knowing he’d figure it out eventually, he always did. She thanked the handcuffs for giving her a reason to actually wear a tensor in public, and not hidden by a perception filter. Of course, she’d played the sprain off as nothing, even managing to fake the fact that it wasn’t a screaming agony when Owen tested the movement of her hand. Which meant Jack and Owen insisted she was only doing it to hide her pale hand and so she made a show of taking it off. No one knew she went to the bathroom a half hour later to slip it back on and the perception filter.
She looked down at her wrist, removing the charm bracelet she used as a perception filter, unwrapping the wrist to let it breathe a bit. It was swollen and bruised, the bruise taking the shape of a handprint. She walked into her bathroom, turning on the light as she stripped down to shower. She stood there, in front of the mirror, looking at the bruises on her upper arms, the slight swollen skin around her eye where she’d had a shiner carefully kept concealed under make up and lots of applications of cold packs. She had a nasty bruise on her ribs, she’d been worried it was broken, but a scan in the Tardis had shown he once again stopped just this side of going too far.
The bruises were fading, that sickly yellow and greenish gray color they get after a few days. These had all come from the fight they had on Friday. Their last fight it turned out. It was funny, if she hadn’t been kidnapped, she probably would still be with the bastard. Because if she hadn’t been kidnapped, she wouldn’t have seen her family and friends freak like they did. She wouldn’t have seen Owen looking torn between relief she was alive, and wanting to kill her for scaring him. When they were down in the med bay, and she gave in and let him look at her wrist, risking him finding out just how badly she was hurt, he all but told her she was worth more than what her boyfriend thought. She stepped into the shower, washing away the day, thinking about what Jack told her about Owen, and Katie, and the way Owen looked at her.
She was brushing her teeth, still wrapped in a towel when she heard a throat clear. She jumped, and turned to see her best friend standing in the doorway. “Jesus, Max, how long were you standing there?”
“Since before the shower. How many times has he left you like that?” He nodded to the bruises.
“Doesn’t matter, this was the last time,” Lacey said with a shrug, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth. She looked at Max, the black eye faded but visible now without make-up. “We broke up, remember?”
“Explains why you wanted Jake there as well as me. If he tried shit, Jake would have kicked his ass while I went to get Jack, right?” Max watched as Lacey toweled off, slipping into her PJs. “You know you have a handprint bruise on your ass?”
“Yes, Maxwell, I’m quite aware of every bruise.” She sighed, whipping the towel at the fourteen year old. “You’re not going to rat me out to Dad are you?” She knew if Jack found out about the abuse, Mike would not be long for the world.
“I should, you know. The bastard would deserve it.” Max eyed his friend and the lip chewing motion that meant she was genuinely nervous. She sighed. “You swear he’s out of your life?”
“He got on a plane back to London this morning. With a warning that if he stepped a foot into Jackson’s Lake again, Dad would find out ‘accidentally’ about this.”
Max nodded. He knew Lacey, he also knew her father. “If he shows his face in town again, you have exactly forty eight hours from the time I find out to tell Jack. If not, I tell him.” He said with a shrug. "So why here? Why not Owen's?"
She ignored him, pushing past him towards the pull out sofa and laying down. "Don't you have like a gig of Maggie's to be at?"
“Not tonight. Lacey, I know you, I know your habits, probably better than Jack does.” He said, following her to the bed and climbing in next to the Time Lady. “Ever since Owen’s been alive, you’ve been over there as much as possible, in fact, you’re either there or here. You’re never at the dorms except once in a while. And whenever you spend the night at the Dorms, you end up here.” He grabbed the tensor off the end table and tossed it at Lacey. “It’s because you think you can hide them better here than at Owen’s, isn't it?”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Max shook his head. Lacey sighed. “I didn’t want Owen to see me like this, ok? You see him when I’m the one doing the damage. I don’t need him flying off the handle and ending up in jail because of me. I can handle my own messes.”
Max shrugged in a lazy manner, he knew Lacey could, hell the woman had survived a war; an abusive boyfriend should be easy. He watched his friend wrap her arm. “How long til they’re all faded?”
“By the end of the week, the last of Mike will be gone,” she said, smiling at Max. “And I’m fine, really, they don’t even hurt anymore.” She leaned against him. “So, tell me, since when did you and Mags start hanging out so much? I have got to know how you got the inside story on this!”
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Series: Kidverse
Characters: Lacey Harkness, Max
Summary: On Saturday, Lacey was kidnapped by the world's worst kidnappers, on Sunday, she broke up with her boyfriend, On Monday, Max found out why.
Author's Note 1: For those who are not in the ij game "Blame Canada", Max is an original character. He grew up on Mars three hundred years in the future. Met Lacey and her Time Agent friend Jonah, and the rest as they say is history. As you can see in the Icon, he looks like Tory Belleci of Mythbusters fame.
Author's Note 2: Written for the hc_bingo with the Prompt: Bruises.
Warnings: Discusses Domestic Abuse. If this is triggering to you, please, skip this story, you won't hurt my feelings.
It was almost nine when she left the Hub. She headed towards Max’s flat. She rolled her neck, wincing as it creaked. It was still sore from the time she’d spent unconscious, head hung to her chest. That whole kidnapping thing was so lame. It had been two days and she still was bitching about it. She also hadn’t stopped bitching about Jake and Gwen forcing her hand like that. Why should it matter whether Owen knew or not that she’d broken up with her boyfriend?
She let herself into his flat. Once she had the door shut, she winced. She’d been doing a good job of hiding how badly her wrist was sprained, hiding it even from Owen. She hated lying to the medic, knowing he’d figure it out eventually, he always did. She thanked the handcuffs for giving her a reason to actually wear a tensor in public, and not hidden by a perception filter. Of course, she’d played the sprain off as nothing, even managing to fake the fact that it wasn’t a screaming agony when Owen tested the movement of her hand. Which meant Jack and Owen insisted she was only doing it to hide her pale hand and so she made a show of taking it off. No one knew she went to the bathroom a half hour later to slip it back on and the perception filter.
She looked down at her wrist, removing the charm bracelet she used as a perception filter, unwrapping the wrist to let it breathe a bit. It was swollen and bruised, the bruise taking the shape of a handprint. She walked into her bathroom, turning on the light as she stripped down to shower. She stood there, in front of the mirror, looking at the bruises on her upper arms, the slight swollen skin around her eye where she’d had a shiner carefully kept concealed under make up and lots of applications of cold packs. She had a nasty bruise on her ribs, she’d been worried it was broken, but a scan in the Tardis had shown he once again stopped just this side of going too far.
The bruises were fading, that sickly yellow and greenish gray color they get after a few days. These had all come from the fight they had on Friday. Their last fight it turned out. It was funny, if she hadn’t been kidnapped, she probably would still be with the bastard. Because if she hadn’t been kidnapped, she wouldn’t have seen her family and friends freak like they did. She wouldn’t have seen Owen looking torn between relief she was alive, and wanting to kill her for scaring him. When they were down in the med bay, and she gave in and let him look at her wrist, risking him finding out just how badly she was hurt, he all but told her she was worth more than what her boyfriend thought. She stepped into the shower, washing away the day, thinking about what Jack told her about Owen, and Katie, and the way Owen looked at her.
She was brushing her teeth, still wrapped in a towel when she heard a throat clear. She jumped, and turned to see her best friend standing in the doorway. “Jesus, Max, how long were you standing there?”
“Since before the shower. How many times has he left you like that?” He nodded to the bruises.
“Doesn’t matter, this was the last time,” Lacey said with a shrug, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth. She looked at Max, the black eye faded but visible now without make-up. “We broke up, remember?”
“Explains why you wanted Jake there as well as me. If he tried shit, Jake would have kicked his ass while I went to get Jack, right?” Max watched as Lacey toweled off, slipping into her PJs. “You know you have a handprint bruise on your ass?”
“Yes, Maxwell, I’m quite aware of every bruise.” She sighed, whipping the towel at the fourteen year old. “You’re not going to rat me out to Dad are you?” She knew if Jack found out about the abuse, Mike would not be long for the world.
“I should, you know. The bastard would deserve it.” Max eyed his friend and the lip chewing motion that meant she was genuinely nervous. She sighed. “You swear he’s out of your life?”
“He got on a plane back to London this morning. With a warning that if he stepped a foot into Jackson’s Lake again, Dad would find out ‘accidentally’ about this.”
Max nodded. He knew Lacey, he also knew her father. “If he shows his face in town again, you have exactly forty eight hours from the time I find out to tell Jack. If not, I tell him.” He said with a shrug. "So why here? Why not Owen's?"
She ignored him, pushing past him towards the pull out sofa and laying down. "Don't you have like a gig of Maggie's to be at?"
“Not tonight. Lacey, I know you, I know your habits, probably better than Jack does.” He said, following her to the bed and climbing in next to the Time Lady. “Ever since Owen’s been alive, you’ve been over there as much as possible, in fact, you’re either there or here. You’re never at the dorms except once in a while. And whenever you spend the night at the Dorms, you end up here.” He grabbed the tensor off the end table and tossed it at Lacey. “It’s because you think you can hide them better here than at Owen’s, isn't it?”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Max shook his head. Lacey sighed. “I didn’t want Owen to see me like this, ok? You see him when I’m the one doing the damage. I don’t need him flying off the handle and ending up in jail because of me. I can handle my own messes.”
Max shrugged in a lazy manner, he knew Lacey could, hell the woman had survived a war; an abusive boyfriend should be easy. He watched his friend wrap her arm. “How long til they’re all faded?”
“By the end of the week, the last of Mike will be gone,” she said, smiling at Max. “And I’m fine, really, they don’t even hurt anymore.” She leaned against him. “So, tell me, since when did you and Mags start hanging out so much? I have got to know how you got the inside story on this!”