xviii. GRAY-EYED

EIGHTEEN.

GRAY-EYED

The pavement flashed under her feet as she ran. Bex dashed across the street, hardly pausing to check for oncoming traffic and ignoring the car horns that blared at her. Eggsy only lived a mile away, and with every street she passed, her smile only grew wider.

Her heart had grown wings and it carried her to him.

She reached his street and began to edge past the rows of identical apartments. Bex darted up the stairs, eyes seeking out the number 31. She stopped in front of it, her chest heaving. She reached out a tentative hand to knock, then instantly drew back, clutching her hand to her chest. Her mind and body froze for a moment. The thought of Eggsy being on the other side terrified her more than she was willing to admit.

Bex took a deep breath. She had to try.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she rapped on the door with her knuckles, wincing at the dull ache that bloomed from her bruises. Bex bounced on her toes as she waited, rocking back and forth to match the frenzied rhythm of her heart. The door had been painted over, but she could still see where the cracks in the paint had been. Bex's eyes traveled these tiny, winding fractures until the door suddenly opened.

Bex jumped in surprise and took a step back. The door only opened a few inches, chains and locks restraining it, but Bex could see a sliver of a woman's face. Her piercing gray eye scanned Bex from head to toe, and then narrowed.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

"I'm... Sarah. Sarah Rogers," Bex lied. "I was hoping Eggsy was home. I need to talk to him. Are you his mum?"

"I am. How do you know Eggsy?" the woman asked warily.

"School. We had Chemistry together," Bex said, another lie slipping easily off her tongue.

The woman's face was beginning to soften, but her eyes stayed sharp and wary, the color of gathering storm clouds.

"See, after school, I went on to work for a pharmaceutical company," Bex explained. "They're looking for someone to hire, and I remembered how good Eggsy was at Chemistry and thought of him."

She nearly winced as how unconvincing her lie was. Pharmaceuticals? She might as well have told her that she raised unicorns and needed Eggsy to feed them glitter and smiles every day.

"Eggsy was terrible at Chemistry," his mother said, not bothering to disguise her amusement. "He set himself on fire. Twice."

She raised an eyebrow at Bex.

"Oh, darn, you got me," Bex drawled sarcastically. "I'm actually a spy in training with a secret organization and I need to apologize to your son for yelling at him after I was trapped in a tiny room with moving walls."

Bex smiled sweetly. The blonde woman stared at her for a moment, before her mouth opened in laughter. Her defensive manner crumbled. She smiled, her gray eyes lighting up.

"Obviously. Well, Eggsy doesn't get many female visitors so I suppose I should take advantage of this. Come on in, Sarah," she chuckled.

There was a clatter as she undid the locks and they fell away.

She pulled the door open and Bex saw the rest of her face. She stopped short, eyes widening.

She gasped. She couldn't help it.

His mother had a sort of quiet beauty, with high cheekbones and Eggsy's gray eyes. But it was marred by the purple and black pattern of bruises that followed the curve of her face from her temple to her cheek. Bex's stomach gave a jolt when she took in the cut on her temple and the way her tiny frame hunched slightly, undoubtedly from bruises hidden from plain view.

"I-I'm sorry," Bex apologized. "I just wasn't expecting..."

"I know," the woman sighed.

"Mrs. Unwin-"

"Call me Michelle. Please. Or least Ms. Unwin, not Mrs."

"Michelle, then. I don't mean to overstep, but... Can I ask how you got those bruises?"

Michelle's face went blank, expressionless except for the panic in her eyes. Her eyes darted to the floor nervously, then up to the kitchen sink, never meeting Bex's.

"I-I fell."

"You fell?"

"Yes. I slipped and hit my head on...the kitchen counter."

Bex watched the tremble of her hands and the hesitation in her voice. There was no doubt in her mind that Michelle was lying. And she had her suspicions as to why.

"So why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"What?"

"I can see by the dried blood that your cuts haven't been cleaned and disinfected properly. That cut on your forehead would've been stitched shut if you had you gone to emergency care. And your bruises are blue and purple, meaning they date back at least a day or two. So, why haven't you gone to the hospital yet?"

"I...I..."

Her face crumpled slightly. Her eyes looked panicked, knowing that she had been caught in her lie. Bex didn't break eye contact.

"Michelle, I know you didn't fall. But I won't to ask you to explain," Bex said quietly.

Michelle's shoulder slumped with relief. She put her hand on Bex's arm.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

Bex towered over her tiny stature. It seemed unfair that anyone could beat a woman so small and delicate. What kind of person took their fists to a creature so fragile there was a guarantee they would break?

"But maybe we could do something," Bex offered. The petite woman jerked suddenly, and Bex scrambled to recapture her attention. "No, no! I won't force you to tell anyone. I know how hard that is. I know how long it takes to be ready to even open your mouth. I just want to help. Your bruises could use some ice, and those cuts should really be cleaned."

Bex's offer hung in the air between them. For a moment Bex was afraid she'd stepped too far. Then the fear in Michelle's wide gray eyes faded slightly and the tension in her stature relaxed.

"Okay," she said hesitantly.

Bex offered a hand.

"Here. We can just wash them soap and water. It'll sting a bit, but you seem like you can handle it," she said, trying to sound gentle.

She had never been very good at the whole bedside manner thing during her medical training, with her bitter sarcasm and abrasive nature. She'd always done better behind a curtain in the operating room, a mask over her face and the room silent.

Michelle nodded, though, and Bex led her to the stained sink. She pulled a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to Michelle.

"Here. Your cut is bleeding again. You should really apply some pressure to it."

The woman obeyed. Bex watched the paper slowly turn crimson as the blood seeped through.

"I don't suppose you have any sterile cloths or towels?" she tried.

Michelle pointed to a cabinet under the sink.

"I washed those yesterday. Is that okay?"

Bex grabbed a pale pink one and passed it to the blonde woman. "It'll do. That should help diminish the blood flow and help form a clot."

Bex then turned on the tap, watching the faucet splutter before coughing out brown water. Bex made a face. The water eventually ran clear, but there was no way that water was going anywhere near a wound.

"I'm going to make a quick disinfectant," Bex said. "Do you have iodized salt and vinegar?"

"Top left drawer and right cabinet," Michelle supplied, watching Bex gather the ingredients according to her instructions.

Bex filled a glass with water, then mixed in a teaspoon of salt and vinegar. The water turned a cloudy white color. Bex grabbed another paper towel and dipped it in the mixture. When she turned around to face Michelle again, she found her looking at her strangely.

"What?"

"You're just so calm and methodical. You'd make a good doctor," she said.

A week ago, those words would've felt like a punch to the stomach, a reminder of what Bex couldn't have. But now, she felt a warm glow of pride rush over her.

"Thanks," she smiled, dabbing Michelle's forehead with the disinfectant.

She stepped back, assessing the depth of the cut. It was far too deep to go without stitches for long, an ugly swath of red splashed across her temple where the skin had split.

"This needs stiches. Do you have a sewing kit, or-"

"Fuck no!" Michelle cried, jerking away from Bex.

"Fuck no, you don't have a sewing kit? I mean good for you for defying societal expectations, but-"

"No, fuck no, there's no way I'm letting a teenage girl put a needle and thread in my forehead without anesthetic! I just met you!"

"Okay, I thought we were having a moment, but whatever," Bex said, holding up her hands. "I won't stitch it up now, if you promise that you'll go to the hospital and get it sewn up soon."

Michelle hesitated.

"And I mean soon," Bex continued, sticking her hands on her hips. "Unless you want a huge ugly infected wound, which is fine with me. It's your pus you'll have to drain, not mine-"

"That's revolting," Michelle said, wincing. Bex watched a variety of emotions fight for dominance over her face, until she finally surrendered.

"Fine. I'll go to the hospital."

"Soon," she added, seeing Bex's mouth open.

Bex smiled. "Good. Got a first aid kit?"

"No. We don't need one."

Bex's eyebrows shot up. She stared at Michelle dubiously, her eyes obviously traveling to her bruises. Under the vivid purple, she could see her cheeks flush.

"Okay, fine, it raises red flags," Michelle relented. "If...If anyone was ever investigating things, it might look bad."

"Well, then maybe you should have one," Bex said. "Seems like a red flag should've been raised here a long time ago."

Michelle didn't respond. Bex ripped a piece of paper towel and grabbed the clear tape dispenser that was sitting on the table. She folded the paper towel until it was the right size and pressed it to her forehead, taping the corners down.

"There. That'll hold you until you go to the hospital."

Michelle tried to stand, but Bex sat her back down.

Bex wagged a finger. "Nice try. We still need to ice those bruises. I'm assuming you have ice at least?"

Eggsy's mother nodded.

Bex pulled open the door to the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice cubes. She wrapped them in another cloth from under the sink, and pressed the frozen bundle to Michelle's forehead. She paused a moment, one hand on her temple and the other on her back until Michelle took the ice from her. Bex guided her to the couch.

"Here, sit down," she instructed.

Eggsy's mother slumped down gratefully, her petite frame sinking into the large cushions. The deep blue fabric matched the circles under her eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut, pain clearly written on her face. She breathed out, and Bex suddenly felt as though she was intruding, standing above her awkwardly. She was about to step away when Michelle caught her wrist.

"Sarah," she whispered. "I can't thank you enough."

"It's okay," Bex smiled. "No problem at all."

Suddenly, a wail filled the room, a high pitched shriek that echoed along the walls. Bex jumped, her mind immediately imagining a siren. Then she realized that the only thing capable of producing such an earsplitting noise was a child.

"Cecelia!" Michelle exclaimed. "I need to-"

She tried to rise from the couch, but Bex put a gentle hand on her shoulder, careful not to put any pressure on her bruises, until she returned to a sitting position.

"Stay here. Don't move," Bex warned. "I'll take care of...it."

"It is a her."

"Sure," Bex said absentmindedly.

She made sure Michelle was resting before turning around. She followed the screams into the next room. It was dark, but Bex could make out a crib in the corner. Shuddering, she got closer. There was a tiny baby inside, her fists clenched and her face red. She was bawling and Bex had to steel herself before reached down and scooping the child up in her arms.

She winced as the wailing intensified as the baby got closer to her ear. Cecelia smelled like baby powder and was wearing a tiny blue jumper with clouds, but Bex wasn't fooled.

"Yeah, you think you're so cute, huh?" she muttered. "I see right through you, Cecelia. Past those little fluffy pigtails is a sadistic brain working hard to figure out the best way to torture the rest of us."

Cecelia kept crying.

"You're doing a great job. Congratulations."

This was infinitely worse than any of her training. God, she almost wished she was getting shot at instead. At least a bullet would put her out of her misery.

Bex was, in short, not a baby person.

"Sarah?" Michelle called out.

Bex groaned. "Coming. I've got the demon."

"What did you say?"

"I've got the baby, I said."

Bex walked back out into the living room. She held Cecelia out away from her chest like she was a ticking bomb.

"How do I make her stop crying?" Bex asked, her ears already aching.

"Well, hold her properly first," Michelle said, rolling her eyes. "She won't bite you. Probably."

Bex sat down next to Michelle, keeping Cecelia from touching her lap.

"Hold her to your chest," Michelle said, exasperated.

"Do I have to?" Bex grumbled.

"Yes. Or I'll get up off the couch and stop icing my forehead and do it myself. Do you want to me to do that?"

"No, stay put," Bex said hastily. "I'll do it."

She pulled Cecelia close to her chest, feeling the warmth from her tiny body against her skin.

"Lay her head back and let your arms form a cradle."

Bex did as she was told, slowly letting the baby settle in a lying down position. Her minuscule fists stopped thrashing around, but she hadn't stopped her wailing.

"Rock her a bit side to side," Michelle suggested. "You could try singing to her also."

"I don't sing," Bex said firmly.

She gently rocked the baby in her arms. She fell into a steady rhythm of side to side. After what felt like hours, Cecelia's screams faded to whimpers. Her gray eyes, just as wide and bright as the rest of her family's, finally opened to peer up at Bex curiously. They were the color of pale smoke. Bex stared into her eyes, feeling a strange rush of warmth. She realized she was humming under her breath and quickly stopped, turning red.

"You know I didn't really take you for a baby person, but you're really good with her," Michelle whispered. "Do you have a little one of your own?"

Bex choked. "What? I'm nineteen!"

"Well, it's not uncommon around here. I hadn't even finished school when I had Eggsy."

Bex looked over at Michelle, taken aback.

"Oh, er- I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've never regretted it. After all, Eggsy was better than any diploma. He was my greatest gift for many years."

Bex shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It felt strange to hear someone talk about Eggsy as a brother or a son, when she'd never known his as either. She thought she had known everything about Eggsy, but maybe she had only known a few pieces of him and assumed they were all of him.

Michelle chuckled to herself. "He was a funny one when he was younger. Always getting into trouble, but always for the right reasons. You know, he got his nickname because he stole all the eggs out of the chicken coop on my father's farm. Hid them in the barn until they hatched. His grandfather was furious, but Eggsy had already named himself the protector of the chickens. Five years old, and he was already so self assured."

Michelle sighed, looking at Bex.

"When he became a teenager, I thought I'd lost him. This place steals children away and turns them into adults far too soon, and I was watching him fall into all the darkest places. But I got him back, just as kind and selfless as always."

She smiled softly.

"He never let anything taint him for long, especially not his beliefs. Eggsy believes in all the good things in the world. He sees the flaws in people as something he can save. In his world, things are simple, black and white, fixable."

Bex stayed silent, her mind churning. This Eggsy his mother described was the one she knew so deeply, and yet somehow a stranger all at once. When she looked up from Cecelia, she was startled to see a tear slipping down his mother's bruised cheek.

"But then I lost him again. He disappeared for a year and a half. I'd stopped looking, but I still saw him everywhere. In my best dreams, he had escaped from Dean and this place and he was finally at ease. In my worst dreams, he was dead. A-And then he turned up one day. Out of nowhere. I thought I was finally complete, my missing piece returned to me. But Eggsy hasn't been the same. I don't know what hurt him so deeply, but he's lost his faith in the world. I think he's heartbroken. He told me about some girl he met, Beck or something."

Bex's heart stopped in her chest. "Bex?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, that's it. Bex. He said she was like a storm, that she had blown into his life with wind and rain and set his world spinning. And that he'd been off balance ever since."

Bex had gone so still even her pulse was frozen. Michelle's words had stolen the air from her lungs. Her thoughts were racing, tripping over one another, as her head and heart battled. Something was aching inside Bex, a thousand dreams that softly burned.

"Sarah, are you all right? You look pale," Michelle asked, voice laced with concern.

Bex swallowed hard, her throat tight.

"I'm not Sarah. I'm-"

The end to Bex's sentence never arrived as the door exploded into a thousand fragments.

─────

a quick note:

me: i hope this chapter doesn't flop

this chapter:

it's chapters like these that make me think i should never write again. i told myself not to publish it but then i remembered how much i owe you all an update, so here it is. don't judge me for it.