A big thank-you to Chancel Jordan, Knots, A Freak Like Me, Novelist, Becca88, iEmo, Becky Sky, Boberick, Scrap Heap, Itsuyaya, Leaves of Labefaction, A.J. Manders, rainstains tarte, -walking.-, dramaqueen89, A. Harrison, help911x711, AuroraBorealis, Laciiee, DontMakeMeLaugh, King of Kings, Orginal Screen Name, Schlotta Whaley, paper airplanes, Robin Griffith, and Rizzy. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. XD

Sorry, no review responses this time around. . . And updates might be just a tad bit slower for a while. . . I've got allergies this time of year and the medicine I take for it makes it pretty much impossible to write anything coherent. I shall try my best, though.

PENITENCE

:11:

"You told Chase that Russell was giving me problems."

Scott squinted up at me, a perplexed expression taking over his features. "I did?" His brow raised and he shrugged against the grass. "Man, I don't really remember much of last night."

I sent him a glare, then glanced over my shoulder at the 7-11, where we'd just come from. There was a grassy patch of land next to it that some genius had stuck a picnic table on, which was where we were currently at.

"Even if I did, what does it matter?" he asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It was mostly covered over by clouds, but he was still feeling the effects of drinking so much last night. Or, in layman's terms, he was hungover. That would also explain why he was sprawled out on the grass. "It's not like he's gonna go and kill him or anything."

I bit my cheek for a moment, pushing away the thoughts that came with those words, and forced a teasing grin. "I know." I let off a frustrated sigh, shifting on the wooden seat. "But you still shouldn't have told him."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that next time I get trashed."

Turning to the plastic bag on the picnic table, I rummaged through it, looking for something to do. Scott and I had met up a while ago, for no other reason that we were both bored out of our minds, and he'd picked up his version of a "healthy" breakfast at the 7-11.

Of course, spicy Doritos, beef jerky, and a Pepsi wasn't exactly my idea of something even remotely healthy, but I hadn't said anything about it. It wasn't any of my business, just like it wasn't any of his business to draw Russell to Chase's attention. . .

Or maybe I was just overreacting.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Just overreacting. . . Nothing really to worry about.

"Hey." I nudged his shoulder with my foot, and he turned his attention to me. "What happened to that vacation your family was going on? I thought that was supposed to be this week."

"It was." He nodded vaguely, then grunted as he sat up. "It's getting post-poned or some shit."

I frowned. "Why?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair -- as if in desperation -- and then said, "My mom doesn't want to travel while she's pregnant."

"But she's only a few weeks along."

He shrugged again and got to his feet, settling onto the bench beside me. His hand reached for the bag and he dumped out the contents, holding out the package of jerky to me. "Want some?"

I shook my head. "I already ate." I really had.

"Yeah right."

I stretched my arms across the picnic table, catching the time on my watch. It was still pretty early in the morning.

"Has Nat cornered you yet?" he asked.

My brow raised a bit. "Nat?"

"The new waitress." He took another drink. "She's doesn't frickin' shut up."

"But you put up with her long enough to learn that?" I eyed him suspiciously and rested my head on my arms. "She must be cute."

He grinned but didn't say anything, attention on the food again.

"She is, isn't she?" I breathed, melodramatic tone completely intentional. "What about poor Celeste?"

The sharp look he gave me was expected.

"She's too easy."

"But you like her."

His expression turned slightly skeptical as he opened the bag of chips. "I don't like easy."

"Well that's too bad, because you're wasting a shitload of her time," I said sagely, adding a nod, as if that would aid in my cause. He gave me a blank look in return, to which I shrugged, then mumbled, "You'd better tell her."

I found myself holding my breath when I entered the kitchen of Yellowfin's that evening. I wasn't really sure why. It would be silly to think that anything would be different.

It was the first time I'd actually breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Russell.

Not that I thought anything would have happened to him throughout the course of the day. . .

It was just a relief, in a really odd way.

"Hannah Banana," he greeted, sweetly, with that smarmy grin of his.

"Hello," I mumbled in return, tying my apron. The tight presence that I'd felt in my stomach all day was easing off, loosening.

Talk about over-reacting, I admonished myself mentally, rubbing at my temples for a moment. Chase wasn't so irrational as to do that. . .

"Oysters on the menu today," I heard him say as he opened a lower cupboard. Then, glancing at me over his shoulder, he continued, "I'll show you how to shuck 'em real good."

"Sounds good," I replied with half-hearted cheer. Being a grump wouldn't make the next six hours pass any quicker.

I tightened my ponytail, then washed my hands at the sink.

It hadn't even been a week since I'd started working in here. Five days, actually. This "Nat" girl, who I hadn't formally met yet, seemed to have an innate talent for waitressing which resigned me to the fact that this was probably going to be a permanent position.

Which, I supposed, wasn't so bad.

I started on chopping the onions as Russell did something at the stove. I really wasn't sure what, nor did I care.

By now, I pretty much knew my way around the kitchen. Preparing food wasn't all that complicated, either. It was quite a bit easier than waitressing, I had to admit, although not nearly as enjoyable. The only thing that bothered me more than Russell was the fact that I didn't get any breaks.

It wasn't for another ten minutes that the restaurant actually opened, and when it did, Nat was the first to appear at the pick-up counter. She handed me the ticket and I clipped it onto the bulletin board on the wall. She flashed a quick smile, which I tried to return, but it probably didn't come across quite a optimistic as hers.

"Hey."

Russell's gruff voice made me look his way and I nearly brought down the knife on my finger.

"What?" I glanced over at him, brow quirking, then turned again to my scallion slicing.

"What's the difference between jam and marmalade?" he asked.

Without even giving it enough time to settle into my mind, to comprehend the question, I countered, "Does it really matter?"

"Oh, you've heard that one?" He sounded disappointed.

I breathed a small sigh of relief, glad that I wouldn't have to hear whatever mind-in-the-gutter punch line the joke had. He had a new one every night and they weren't getting any better.

The next few minutes passed in silence, aside from the sizzling of fish on a skillet. I had moved on to de-boning a fillet of salmon when he decided to speak again.

"Why doesn't your boyfriend pick you up anymore? You guys split?"

No, I wanted to say, but our schedules changed.

"It really isn't any of your business," I mumbled, carefully withdrawing a tiny bone.

There was a pause.

"He dump you?"

"No."

"I'd have to be crazy before I let my girlfriend walk home in the middle of the night."

"I take the bus home," I replied as I turned over the fillet. "With Scott." I looked in his direction and he grinned, shaking his head as he tended to the stove top.

"I get it now."

When the shift was over, I waited for Scott in the parking lot. As usual.

Except today, Russell decided to wait with me. Or at least, he was leaned up against the same fence that I was.

I wasn't quite sure why.

"I can walk you home," he informed me, breaking me from my study of the stars.

"That's okay," I mumbled. "But thanks for the offer."

"Anytime." He smirked, and I tried my best to ignore it.

The parking lot was steadily becoming less and less populated; patrons had left long ago and now it was dotted with only four or five cars. Three of them probably belonged to someone from the nearby building, despite the fact that it was a lot designated for the restaurant only.

It felt like today had been such a long day. I was tired, and I couldn't wait to just get home and crawl into bed. It was a full moon, though, I noted reluctantly. I always had trouble sleeping whenever there was a full moon. Like it stirred something inside of me that wouldn't allow me to fall asleep. Mom was the same way, so maybe it was a family thing.

I was rudely jerked back to reality when I felt an arm drape over my shoulder. The unpleasant stench alone that accompanied it made it obvious who it was.

"Please don't do that," I said to Russell, ducking under his arm and taking a few steps to the side, closer to Yellowfin's.

He shrugged, grinning. "Just tryin' to keep you warm."

I pasted on a smile and gave a nod, then pretended to be interested in the chipping polish on my fingernails. I could see out of the corner of my eye him moving closer again.

And what was keeping Scott? He usually didn't take this long.

"Come on." He stepped in front of me, putting one hand to the fence. "Let's pass the time." His brow raised, suggestively.

I shook my head and again, inched away from him. "I think I'll take a raincheck on that."

He grabbed my wrist, grip immediately firm, and a sudden rush of fear washed over me. I pulled my arm away, but his hold didn't loosen. He pushed me against the fence, his other hand anchoring me at the shoulder.

"You're only acting this way 'cause you don't know what you're missing," he said into my ear. His tone was suddenly cold -- not just teasing, like all the times before. I cringed at his next words as my thoughts flicked to the best way to knee him in the groin. He was too close; there wasn't any room for it. "I can show you."

"Russell, get off," I said, trying to steady my voice. It didn't do much good.

And then suddenly, it was gone. The pressure at my wrist and shoulder -- it left.

Russell had taken a step back, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sorry." It was Nat. She was frowning, looking slightly confused. "I didn't realize you two were -- "

"I was just leaving," Russell said, sending me a sidelong glance as he slipped his hands into his pockets. He nodded towards me as he crossed the parking lot. "See ya later, babe."

I involuntarily shuddered, hooking one hand into the fencing as my mind cleared.

What. . . was that?

I'd always thought he was joking. His lines were always so cliche, I thought maybe it was the after-effects of all the cocaine he snorted, or whatever drugs he was on. But this was --

My gaze fell to Nat, who was still standing in the now-empty parking lot, staring.

"W-we're not together," I said instantly, my stomach doing flip-flops.

She smiled secretively. "I figured. You and Scott, right? I won't tell."

I felt my mouth drop open slightly. "What? No." I shook my head feverishly. "I'm not with him either."

"Oh." She laughed, politely. "Sorry."

I pushed off the fence, my hands shaking, and I crossed my arms, just so that she wouldn't notice. I stepped further into the parking lot, trying to collect my thoughts again.

"Where are my manners," she mumbled, approaching me. She held out her hand. "We've never really talked before. I'm Natalie."

Hesitantly, I shook her hand. "Hannah." I nodded. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm so surprised I got this job, actually," she said, glancing towards the restaurant. "At first, he said that there weren't any openings, but -- " She brought a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I'm rambling. I do that sometimes."

I managed a smile, searching for something amicable to say as I heard footsteps from behind. I turned to see Scott, who was stretching as he exited.

"You want me to wait or are you gonna catch a later bus?" he asked, cracking his knuckles.

"I'll catch a later one," I said automatically. He nodded in return.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, you too."

Natalie gasped lightly, again bringing her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm keeping you," she murmured, touching my arm.

I shook my head. "No, it's fine."

"I hate to be a bother. . ." She groaned, glancing in Scott's direction as he left. "It's just -- I don't live in this town. I live in Penberg, so I don't have any friends here, and I've had a rough week, and -- Sorry." She bit her lip, look truly apologetic. "I was rambling again. It's just this problem that I have -- "

I nodded vaguely, not really listening. I took the opportunity to actually see her. I'd never really taken a good look at her before because usually I was pretty busy in the kitchen, and right now, it seemed the perfect distraction.

She was pretty, though not in the same way as Celeste. In a less skanky way, I guess would be the informal way to term it. Dark hair that I couldn't tell if it was either dark brown or black, because of the dim lighting of the parking lot, and pale skin that seemed to glow. She was an inch or two shorter than me, which led me to believe that she was probably a sophomore or junior. Younger than me, definitely.

" -- was just wondering, how long have you been working here?"

"Um," I paused dumbly, finally tearing my eyes away from her, "a little over a year. Somewhere around there."

"That's wonderful." Her tone was honest and she smiled widely. "I've been needing a job. I start my freshman year in August, and my grants aren't covering everything, so. . ." She sighed, shoulders slumping, then let off a soft laugh.

I took this as a clue she wanted me to pick up the conversation. I'd be tired too if I talked that much at one. "High school?" I queried.

"No, college." She gave a firm nod. "What about you?"

What? College? She hardly looked sixteen.

"I'm going into my senior year," I replied, somewhat stiltedly. Then, I quickly added, "High school."

She smiled again, and right then, I knew she was going to start into another long-winded response.

And, right then, I couldn't have thanked her enough.

The twang of the bow string broke the short silence.

"What're you so anxious for?" I asked, eyeing where the arrow had landed.

Chase shrugged as he bent over to pick up another arrow. "I'm not."

"You've haven't hit the bull's eye yet," I mumbled.

He let off an easy smile as he set up the arrow, bow raised. "That's because I'm distracted by your earth-shattering beauty."

I sighed, crossing my arms and taking a few steps back as he readied the bow again. "Dad's expecting you to be flawless by the time the tournament comes around," I said. "And you're tense. Don't tell me you're nervous about it."

"Hm?" He released the string and the arrow was sent straight into the yellow center of the target.

I shook my head a little. "Nothing."

Something seemed so off about him today. But what exactly it was, I couldn't place.

He lowered the bow, allowing it to lean against the side of the house.

"That one hit," I mumbled. My gaze stayed on the target for a moment; that had been the only arrow to land within the yellow circle. The rest edged at the red and blue rings.

It was so. . . unlike him.

"Is something wrong?" I reached for his hand. Our fingers interlaced and he suddenly pulled me closer, then kissed me. It certainly wasn't the reaction I had been expecting, but I quickly decided that it didn't matter. His hand released mine as he deepened the kiss, and I was pushed back a few steps before his arm circled my waist, pressing me against him.

It was in the moments like this that I knew I should be hating myself. Hating him; someone who'd taken the life of others and just kept on living without any remorse.

And me, keeping it a secret. Not judging, or finding as much fault in it as I should've just because of the fact that I cared for him.

We were both damned to Hell.

That was the only part that I hated.

I felt him smile against my lips and his hand came to my jaw, two fingers lightly pressed, tilting my head back a little. I swallowed, stifling as giggle as his breath tickled the skin at my neck. His scent was overwhelming. Just him; no cologne. My fingers pressed against his back, nails digging into his T-shirt slightly, but he didn't seem to care. He was tense, muscles tight, and I wanted to ask why, but knew that I wouldn't get an answer.

"Chase," I mumbled, licking my lips. There was only a trace of the cherry lip balm that lingered.

He made a sound of acknowledgement, attention solely on my neck, nipping. I moved my hand and brushed my fingers over the tips of his hair. It seemed shorter, by about a fraction of an inch. Maybe that was what seemed different. . .

"I want you to teach me how to shoot," I murmured.

"I don't shoot people, Hannah."

"A bow." I lost my footing for a moment and found myself pressed against the side of the house. "How to shoot a bow and arrow."

"Why the sudden interest?" His voice was muffled against my skin and I tried to fend off the blush that I could feel creeping to my cheeks. Not to mention the fluttering that was beginning in my stomach, coursing through my veins.

"I need a hobby," I replied, quietly. "I need something to be good at."

"You know," he started, pulling away several inches, looking me in the eyes; a hint of amusement present, "there are a lot of things aside from archery that I'm sure you'd be great at."

I caught the sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and rolled my eyes. "Seriously."

His hands came to my elbows, pressing at the insides, gently, and leaned in so that I was pinned to the house, my back coming into full contact with the brown siding. For a moment, it brought back memories of yesterday, with Russell. I wasn't going to tell Chase about it. Or Scott, for that matter. I quickly pushed the thought away. This was different. This was Chase.

"You're good at keeping secrets," he said lowly, brushing his lips over mine.

I couldn't fight the smile as I looked up at him, just hoping that he wouldn't catch the bittersweet feeling that tainted it. I didn't have any words to say to that and so I stayed quiet, merely taking in what he'd said.

If that was all I was really good for. . .

"Chase." I was suddenly aware of a flicker of pain at my neck; sharp. "That hurts."

He pulled back immediately, allowing a lopsidded grin to take features. "Sorry." He was focused on my lips for a moment, then heightened his gaze to meet mine. One hand lifted away from my elbow and he ran a finger along my jaw. "Got a little caught up."

I offered a quick smile in return, pressing his hand against my cheek with my own hand. "Don't say sorry." It sounded cliche, but I meant it.

It made me. . . curious. That was a tame way of saying it.

Of what it would be like. Of what he would be like in a more. . . intense situation.

I found myself thinking about it more than I cared to admit.

The sound of a car door slamming shut jarred me from my thoughts, and instantaneously, Chase took a step away.

"My parents are home," I said, rather lamely. As if it wasn't obvious enough.

"Good." He smiled, glancing around the side of the house, towards the front yard. He reached over and ruffled my hair, then pulled me closer, kissing my forehead. "We can get started on teaching you to shoot."