Fic: There'll Be Peace When You Are Done
Title: There'll Be Peace When You Are Done
Characters: Liz and Critic
Word Count: 659
Prompt: The club girls some sympathy for Linkara or Critic since they're at the bottom of the food chain and there's a moment of bonding/as close as you can get it in hookerverse. Hopefully that's not too cheesy...
Disclaimer: Liz is mine, Critic and the setting is not.
A/N 1: A bit of background on this. I enjoy doing research when it involves hookers, and at the beginning I found that prostitutes in Chicago congregate at a place called West Madison Street. Looking at pictures, it's a pretty grimy area and there's a pretty miserable little church called St. Jude's. So I'm just saying this to note that this is a real place, and I hope they don't kill me for using them as a setting.
A/N 2: So! Those of you who were around for "Cherry Lipgloss", who thought this verse was going to talk about faith? I know, I'm surprised too.
As a general rule, Liz didn't go by St. Jude's church.
It was around a particularly scummy corner to the club and she just didn't trust anything that held its business right next to a shop that had "Frank's Food Mart" in bright neon letters at the top of it. And call her elitist, but having a church near a club with hookers made her feel like something was missing within that church, something... important.
But she'd seen Critic go in there while she was getting her cleaning done, at least five hours before they were both due to work, and a mix of curiosity and worry made her go in soon afterwards.
"Please guide, protect, and enlighten me, and to bring me back to the right way when I go astray."
He evidently didn't hear her quiet prayer as he was sitting in the second-from-front pew, hunched over the back of the first row and fiddling with a small, silver cross.
"Do you ever tell anyone anything outright, or do you just enjoy acting like your life is a soap opera?"
It was the wrong thing to say in a church, even in one as grotty as this, but it was funny to see him almost jump out out of his skin.
"Liz! I- uh- how did you- I wasn't doing- um..."
She giggled, sitting down next to him and patted his shoulder. "Why are you here, love?"
She could feel the mood suddenly get colder as his eyes focused again on the symbol in his hands. "Something bad happened. I just- I needed to be here."
Not for the first time, she wished she had more to go on. "Michaud? Chick? Your twin? Customers? Nerd?"
He shook his head, fidgeting with his cross even more. "Someone else. Found out he didn't care about me after all."
She was struggling to find something to say that wasn't platitudes or personal or well-meaning advice that would trigger a temper tantrum, but she was saved by a blurted out question. "What was your childhood like?"
"Um, pretty normal. Grew up in the countryside, had horse-riding and ballet lessons, went to an all-girls school... I'd love to go back in time and tell my past self that she'll grow up to be a single mother hooker." She was grateful, honestly, but sometimes it was just so hard to be.
His response came out like it was on speed. "We were one of those deliciously hypocritical families you hear so much about. Y'know, have a motherfucking huge cross on the wall but an eight year old kid gets a big bruise on his head from falling into it?"
She actually preferred it when he wasn't telling her much of anything. "I'm sorry sweetie."
"So what I want to know is; why the hell am I here instead of in bed?"
She had to pick her words carefully in case they blew up in her face. "Because... belief can be comforting. And I know things have sucked for everyone here, but... God sends people to help us, keep us safe. He's given my son, for instance." She could take him if he went ragey. Maybe. Hopefully. Not likely.
Instead he just looked up to the roof and sneered. "Great job there, guy."
She had this possibly self-destructive urge to defend Him. "Listen, He's given you Nerd, you have to admit he's made you a lot better in the brainpan."
She could tell he was still trying to look angry and manly, but he was pouting like her little boy and it was more funny-slash-adorable than anything else. "And even though she has issues, He sent the Chick your way. I might not always agree with her, but she does look after you."
He slumped back, clearly exhausted, and she went into Mom mode, pulling his head onto her shoulder and giving him the best side-hug she could. "C'mon, I'll buy you a McDonalds."
Characters: Liz and Critic
Word Count: 659
Prompt: The club girls some sympathy for Linkara or Critic since they're at the bottom of the food chain and there's a moment of bonding/as close as you can get it in hookerverse. Hopefully that's not too cheesy...
Disclaimer: Liz is mine, Critic and the setting is not.
A/N 1: A bit of background on this. I enjoy doing research when it involves hookers, and at the beginning I found that prostitutes in Chicago congregate at a place called West Madison Street. Looking at pictures, it's a pretty grimy area and there's a pretty miserable little church called St. Jude's. So I'm just saying this to note that this is a real place, and I hope they don't kill me for using them as a setting.
A/N 2: So! Those of you who were around for "Cherry Lipgloss", who thought this verse was going to talk about faith? I know, I'm surprised too.
As a general rule, Liz didn't go by St. Jude's church.
It was around a particularly scummy corner to the club and she just didn't trust anything that held its business right next to a shop that had "Frank's Food Mart" in bright neon letters at the top of it. And call her elitist, but having a church near a club with hookers made her feel like something was missing within that church, something... important.
But she'd seen Critic go in there while she was getting her cleaning done, at least five hours before they were both due to work, and a mix of curiosity and worry made her go in soon afterwards.
"Please guide, protect, and enlighten me, and to bring me back to the right way when I go astray."
He evidently didn't hear her quiet prayer as he was sitting in the second-from-front pew, hunched over the back of the first row and fiddling with a small, silver cross.
"Do you ever tell anyone anything outright, or do you just enjoy acting like your life is a soap opera?"
It was the wrong thing to say in a church, even in one as grotty as this, but it was funny to see him almost jump out out of his skin.
"Liz! I- uh- how did you- I wasn't doing- um..."
She giggled, sitting down next to him and patted his shoulder. "Why are you here, love?"
She could feel the mood suddenly get colder as his eyes focused again on the symbol in his hands. "Something bad happened. I just- I needed to be here."
Not for the first time, she wished she had more to go on. "Michaud? Chick? Your twin? Customers? Nerd?"
He shook his head, fidgeting with his cross even more. "Someone else. Found out he didn't care about me after all."
She was struggling to find something to say that wasn't platitudes or personal or well-meaning advice that would trigger a temper tantrum, but she was saved by a blurted out question. "What was your childhood like?"
"Um, pretty normal. Grew up in the countryside, had horse-riding and ballet lessons, went to an all-girls school... I'd love to go back in time and tell my past self that she'll grow up to be a single mother hooker." She was grateful, honestly, but sometimes it was just so hard to be.
His response came out like it was on speed. "We were one of those deliciously hypocritical families you hear so much about. Y'know, have a motherfucking huge cross on the wall but an eight year old kid gets a big bruise on his head from falling into it?"
She actually preferred it when he wasn't telling her much of anything. "I'm sorry sweetie."
"So what I want to know is; why the hell am I here instead of in bed?"
She had to pick her words carefully in case they blew up in her face. "Because... belief can be comforting. And I know things have sucked for everyone here, but... God sends people to help us, keep us safe. He's given my son, for instance." She could take him if he went ragey. Maybe. Hopefully. Not likely.
Instead he just looked up to the roof and sneered. "Great job there, guy."
She had this possibly self-destructive urge to defend Him. "Listen, He's given you Nerd, you have to admit he's made you a lot better in the brainpan."
She could tell he was still trying to look angry and manly, but he was pouting like her little boy and it was more funny-slash-adorable than anything else. "And even though she has issues, He sent the Chick your way. I might not always agree with her, but she does look after you."
He slumped back, clearly exhausted, and she went into Mom mode, pulling his head onto her shoulder and giving him the best side-hug she could. "C'mon, I'll buy you a McDonalds."