Baker and Jones Ch. 17

Chapter Seventeen

The return journey from Lamishton is cold, long, and leaves Annette exhausted. By the time she reaches Mill Street, it's certainly an hour or two past midnight, and her feet are aching and weary. Her face feels stiff and numb from the cold, and she's sure she will be feeling the consequences of this exertion in the morning. She lumbers up the steps to her home, allowing her excitement to see Cordelia to carry her as it had for the entire journey. She can't wait to witness the look on the detective's face when she hears what has transpired.

The sound of glass shattering inside electrifies Annette as she reaches for her keys, and suddenly the weight of her journey leaves her. Jarl can't have gone after her yet, could he? She scrambles to open the door, swinging it open and grabbing an umbrella in the vain hopes it'll sufficiently bludgeon any intruder.

She hears noise in the dining room, and quickly leaps inside to find Cordelia slouched in a chair, the shattered remains of a whiskey bottle decorating the floor. She looks disheveled and injured, and Annette notices the far too familiar sight of blood on her knuckles, bruises on her torso, and the stench of alcohol.

"Oh, Christ!" Cordelia leaps up, only to stumble to the floor and cut her hand on a shard of glass. She lets out a quiet curse and groans from the pain.

"I didn't mean to startle you!" Annette apologizes, carefully moving forward to assist her.

Cordelia glowers at her as she rises. "Have you come to gloat?" She hisses.

Annette freezes, depositing the umbrella on the table. She furrows her brow and asks, "What reason have I to gloat?"

A chuckle of disbelief escapes Cordelia's mouth, and she shakes her head, exasperated, and gestures to the wreckage around her. "The effect has been quite as expected!" She sighs, shaking out the pain from the cut in her hand. "Just... just leave me to grieve in peace. I at least deserve that, don't you think, Miss Baker?"

Annette feels a discordant pressure in her chest, trying to understand Cordelia's anger. "Are you alright? Tell me what is-,"

"Am I alright? Christ, the audacity," Cordelia spits. She shuffles back to her seat and drops her body into it without any care. "I could not bear losing you, Annette, that is what I told you. You promised you would stay, and like a fool, I believed you."

Annette frowns. "Am I to be blamed for being kidnapped?"

"Kidnapped. Kidnapped?" Cordelia glares around the room. "She has the nerve to lie to me and gloat at my despair?"

"I assure you I do not know what you mean."

"I tore the city apart searching for you. I called upon my entire network, scoured the dark and dismal places of Bellchester, and you were nowhere to be found," Cordelia stands once more, pacing back and forth across the room, glass crunching underneath her boots. "And now, you stroll in as though nothing is the matter? As though tonight is like any other night?"

"I was kidnapped."

"Spare me," Cordelia dismisses. "I already know the truth." She smacks a fist against her chest, leaving a small smudge of red on her button-up shirt. "I felt it in the pit of my stomach where you were, and I tried to ignore it. To give you the benefit of the doubt. I waited until the end of my search to approach your Mallets, and they told me plain and clear what occurred."

Annette steps forward, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you know what occurred then why are you angry with me?"

"Christ, must you be so innocent of it all?"

"I assure you my innocence is no act. Who did you speak to and what did they tell you?"

Cordelia waves her arms in front of her as she talks. "Marian led me to Guy who led me to Merlin," she explains. "Merlin informed me you were returning to them, despite Jarl's objections."

Annette feels a surge in frustration at Merlin, annoyed he had so greatly misrepresented the situation. "And you believed him?"

Cordelia shoves a hand into her pocket and pulls out the signet ring that had once decorated Annette's collar. "I know you gave this to him. So easily tossed aside, am I?" She drops the ring on the table, letting the metallic sound chime out across the room.

Annette retrieves it, holding it tightly in her fist. She speaks slowly, trying to get Cordelia to understand her. "Cordelia," she exhales, "I gave it to him so that he might inform you I was still alive."

"So you deny nothing? I've-,"

"I'm not finished," Annette scolds. "I worried whether or not I would be alive because Jarl held me at gunpoint."

"And I am to-,"

"I'm not finished," she interrupts more forcefully. She stares down the detective, challenging her to speak up once more. "Jarl is the one who kidnapped me. I did not leave you voluntarily. I am not leaving you now."

Cordelia shakes her head. "I know what Merlin said-,"

"Christ, will you listen!? Sit down!" Annette yells, gesturing for Cordelia to return to her seat. There's a brief, standoffish pause, but the detective eventually sighs and drops back down. Annette grumbles to herself, departing to the kitchen to retrieve water and a clean cloth. She pulls a chair over to Cordelia and holds out her hand, waving for Cordelia to show her the cut on her hand, along with her bloody knuckles. "Are these injuries accidental or deliberate?"

"Does it matter?" Cordelia mutters.

"It matters to me," Annette sighs. "Who did you box?"

"The wall of the bar. No, I didn't win."

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Yes, you were," Cordelia grumbles.

"Yes, I was," Annette admits. She dabs away the blood, gesturing over her shoulder to the glass shards on the floor. "Do you wish to speak about-,"

"The shattered bottle is your answer," Cordelia says, deflating slightly, her voice defeated and weary. "I trust you'll notice it's empty."

Annette nods gently, looking up at her with a supportive expression. "Tomorrow is a new day."

"I'll never be-,"

"Yes, you will," Annette interrupts her doubts. "I know it."

"Sobriety isn't natural for me," the detective lets out a long breath. "It doesn't come naturally."

Annette fills her voice with a sweet, gentle insistence. "Infants are not born wearing clothing, and yet they learn to cope."

Cordelia is quiet, and Annette feels her descend through a long and confused array of emotions. Eventually, the detective sinks even deeper into her seat, her rage melting into despair. She looks frail, and scared. "Why did you go?"

"I didn't wish to," Annette says softly. She squeezes Cordelia's wrist, careful not to touch her injuries. "Why would you let them convince you I was leaving you?"

"Because you would be a fool not to."

"Cordelia, why would I-?"

"I'm a monster," the detective replies quickly and Annette sees the spiraling inside of her eyes. "I'm an alcoholic. I own your contract and keep you captive here in my castle for my own benefit. I'm keeping you from the work you love. I'm controlling. I'm jealous. I'm impulsive. I'm eccentric. I'm a lesbian."

"That final reason is rather good justification to stay," Annette replies sweetly. "Cordelia, you are no monster holding me hostage. You are a woman I adore greatly."

"Perhaps you ought to leave me," she responds, unable to meet Annette's gentle gaze.

"You'll have little success convincing me of that."

The detective's voice waivers. "See how I have responded to such a crisis?" She gestures once more to the room around her, as well as herself. "I am incapable of deserving you. You ought to leave me now and spare yourself."

Annette shifts her focus to cleaning Cordelia's other hand. "I have no interest in humoring such a ridiculous idea."

Cordelia pulls her hand away quickly, wincing as she grips it tightly to her chest. "I don't deserve this. Please leave me."

"I am not-,"

"Please," she begs, her voice cracking.

"And what am I to do then?" Annette exhales. "Spend the rest of my days desperately wishing you would come to your senses?" She shakes her head. "Regardless, my contract would force me to remain. My deal with Wemberly surrendered all of its value."

Cordelia continues staring away. "I'll return to Simon and convince him once more. Or perhaps Samantha could be convinced to take pity on us."

"Once I am able to explain the story of my night, your questions about my next statement will be answered, so bear with me," Annette begins. "Samantha has already offered to claim my contract from you this evening. She was quite insistent."

"So there is our solution."

Annette scowls and tilts her head to meet Cordelia's eyes. "I turned her down. Emphatically."

Cordelia looks at her, confused and disappointed. "You shouldn't have. Perhaps I could convince her-,"

Annette interrupts. "I tell you this not because it is an option upon the table. I tell you it so that you know I have chosen you. I will continue to choose you."

"You shouldn't," Cordelia looks down at her lap. "Christ, look at me. My fears took over for a precious few hours and I have wrought this much devastation. I've shouted at you. I've broken my sobriety. You're even triaging my wounds once more. I'm not worth your effort."

"It's almost as though you believe I know nothing about you," Annette says simply. "Cordelia, I am aware of your flaws. I am also proficient in naming your charms. I chose you."

"Please don't. For your own sake."

"I also met with Miss Pennywise tonight," Annette redirects, then adds, "Once again, I shall elaborate later. Do you know what she told me? She told me you would never see me as anything greater than a sidekick. A pawn. A tool to be used and discarded."

"You see? Another correct judgment of my character."

Annette smiles and disagrees. "Allow me to share some convenient truth. I am content with those realities. If all my position is to you is a tool to be wielded in your hands, I will be grateful to have been held. I would see such a role comparable to being the Queen of this country, so long as I could be at your side and share your bed."

Cordelia leans forward and touches Annette's hand. "You are not a tool, Annette. You are so much more."

"I told her the same," Annette looks at her gratefully. "Stop asking me to discard you. I shall never find it within myself to treat you so."

Cordelia rises from her seat. "And I will never be deserving of your graces." She stumbles forward into the kitchen.

"Then consider my love a miraculous gift, if you must," Annette calls after her.

Cordelia drops to the floor in the kitchen, leaning back against a cabinet and pulling her body into a tight ball. Annette rises quickly, rushing over to be at her side. She looks to see Cordelia trembling, and hears her breaths shallow and rapid.

"I'm a monster," Cordelia puffs out, a look of horror spreading over her face. She begins rocking in place and Annette wraps her arms around the woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm a monster... I'm a monster..."

Annette holds her for a while, trying to act as a life raft through the storm of her emotions. She begins stroking Cordelia's hair, holding her head to her chest, and takes long and slow breaths to encourage the detective to steady herself. It takes some time for the panic to subside, and after a quarter hour Cordelia weakly lays back into her, slowly recovering.

"Dear monster," Annette whispers quietly, kissing the top of her head, "if I must address you as such; you are tired and ailing, and the night is late. Might your captive convince you to find refuge from today's horrors in her bed?"

Cordelia lifts her head to meet Annette's gaze, suddenly recognizing the exhaustion in Annette's expression. A look of tired pain crosses into her face. "Oh God," she mutters, "You're exhausted. You're exhausted and I'm placing a great burden upon you." She begins trying to stand, only for Annette to pull her back.

"You are no burden, sweet monster," she coos. "You are my love, and you are as weary as I. Sleep it off tonight, and we will resolve this over breakfast. Will you allow me to guide you upstairs?"

Cordelia thinks for a long moment, then slowly nods. Annette helps her up, feeling her aching muscles complain at the exertion, and she leads Cordelia upstairs to Annette's bedroom. She gently deposits Cordelia into the soft mattress, then turns and locks the door behind them. Annette crawls in with her, pulling the detective into her chest and holding her sweetly.

Annette returns to stroking her hair, whispering, "Rest easy, dear creature of the night. You will find yourself once again to be a fair maiden in the morning. Rest easy, love," she places a trio of kisses on her forehead. "You are safe," she exhales. "You are safe. You are safe."

Cordelia's arms pull tightly against Annette, and she can feel the guilt radiating from the woman. "I'm sorry," she croaks hoarsely.

"You are, and always will be, forgiven," Annette presses her lips onto her head. "Sleep sweetly and safe."

- - -

Annette awakes, and notices first that the morning has nearly passed and left her behind. She buries herself deeper into the covers, feeling as though she could easily sleep clean through another full day, and revels in the comfort and warmth of her familiar bed. She reaches to pull Cordelia closer to her, only to feel a race of panic crash through her to find that she was gone. Annette sits up quickly, heart racing in her chest, and she stumbles out of bed, throwing on a robe and trotting down the stairs.

She crosses towards the dining room, briefly remembering she should fear stepping on the shattered glass from the night before, only to find that it has been swept up. She shuffles forward into the room and finds Cordelia sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea with dark circles under her eyes. Annette is sure her own eyes look much the same, and she tiptoes forward.

"How... how are you?" She croaks, moving as though Cordelia might be a frightened and cornered animal.

Cordelia smiles as Annette enters her field of vision, and she sets down the book she was reading. An apologetic furrowing of her brow greets Annette, and the detective quietly replies, "Physically, I shall be fine." She takes a sip of her tea. "Emotionally, I am unsure if I will ever recover from the embarrassment of my behavior."

"You have no need to be-,"

"And yet I shall regardless," she lets out a long exhale, and as Annette follows her shifting gaze to the window, she sees Harold happily pecking at seeds from a bowl on the windowsill. "I don't know how to thank you, or apologize, or... anything truly."

Annette, pulling her robe tight around her shoulders, lowers herself down onto Cordelia's lap and places a sweet kiss on her lips. "You don't need to," she says softly. "I'll always take care of you, sweet beast."

Cordelia frowns gently, a twinge of shame in her face. "Sweet as you are being, could... could you abstain from calling me names such as that?"

"Of course," she kisses her cheek. "I find myself apparently in need of some term of endearment."

Cordelia smiles weakly. "Is my name insufficient?"

"Too serious," Annette chides lovingly. "I shall get to work on securing a new one." Her stomach rumbles, and she gazes back at the kitchen. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"

Cordelia wraps her tightly into her arms and says, "Allow me to make breakfast for you. It would make me feel better to repay you in some way."

"I shall allow it," Annette nods.

"Join me in the kitchen," Cordelia rises, encouraging Annette to stand, "and you can fill me in on the details of your time away. From what I can recall from last night, it sounds quite like your typical sort of incredible tale."

Annette recounts all that she learned and experienced, sitting up on the counter next to her. As she suspects, the detective is rather more impressed than worried for her, enthusiastically asking questions as Annette reveals new twists and turns in the adventure. She pauses for a brief moment when Annette tells her of Samantha's kiss, and it takes some additional encouragement to ensure the detective knows Annette had chosen her over the noblewoman, and that this decision was truly an easy one. Some time later, she finds herself sitting next to Cordelia at the table, happily eating a lovely bowl of porridge and fruit.

"So we know now there is some spy in the Mallets," Cordelia summarizes, "this Darrius Winchester, and that they have some connection to Benton & Hayle."

Annette nods, quickly swallowing her next bite. "Hayle suggested he was supporting revolutions, and that this was somehow motivated by profit."

Cordelia thinks for a moment, raising a hand to scratch her chin. "It could be of some benefit to the barons to seize upon the wealth of the gentry and take it for themselves."

Annette shakes her head. "But why then would the Winchesters support them?"

"To be spared the upcoming wrath? There's always traitors."

"It would be far simpler to flee the country," Annette rebuts.

"An incomplete picture," Cordelia concludes. "In the meantime, what are we to do about Jarl? You've likely incurred his wrath by returning to me rather than him."

"He's promised to harm you should I disobey."

"And here you are, disobedient to a lovely fault," she smiles, then gazes around the room with a mild look of worry. "We're likely not safe here. We might wish to flee ourselves."

Annette exhales a low breath, staring down into her breakfast. She feels a tiredness in her bones, a lack of willingness to move once more. "I don't think he'll harm us."

"So confident?" Cordelia's eyebrow perks up. "Are we sure this isn't simply wishful thinking?"

"He gains nothing tangible by removing us and loses much," Annette decides, hoping her intuition is correct. "We can force him into negotiation when he comes to us."

"Is it worth the risk?" Cordelia stares over at Annette, and the meaning feels clear to her. Cordelia wasn't worried for her own safety, but she was not willing to risk Annette's without very good reason.

Annette lowers her spoon and takes Cordelia's hand into her own. "We're nearing someone's endgame, Cordelia, can't you sense it?"

"Yes," she replies quietly.

"I need you. I can only deduce so much of this on my own. We've yet to see the full picture at work."

Cordelia smirks weakly. "It rather sounds as though I am your sidekick."

"Partner," Annette smiles. "All this time, you have been preparing me to be an effective partner at your side, and I am ready. I know what I am capable of now, and surely you know it, too." She squeezes the detective's hand and allows her voice to fill with an inspired confidence. "It is time for me to see the Cordelia Jones of legend. No more holding my hand or testing my resolve. I wish to see you run at full speed and find me matching your pace, stride for stride."

Cordelia looks away, a little bashful, and little appreciative. "You think quite highly of my ability."

"It is not misplaced," Annette insists. "Nor is your faith in me. I know you are capable of all of the things I believe you to be."

Cordelia takes a deep breath, filling her chest with as much air as it can tolerate before allowing it to slowly exit her. Annette can read it in her eyes, the fear that she might not live up to Annette's hopes, or worse, that the person she would become in so doing might scare her away. "Are you sure?"

"Entirely."

The detective nods, closing her eyes and giving herself a moment to coax that side of her forward. When her eyes reopen, Annette sees a flash of brilliance cross through them, a spark of the intense fire she knew was always simmering inside. "Then let us get to work."

- - -

The day is spent in a mixture of fortification and deduction. When Annette is not pouring over their gathered notes, all splayed out on the kitchen floor as some map of the conspiracy, she and Cordelia discuss as many contingencies as possible. Annette digs back through the full history of their involvement in the case; from Henry Rosen to Bembrook to Brimwell to the 8th Street Factory Fire to the Mallet's introduction to Benton & Hayle to the Winchesters, all the way up to the present.