undergrounds | Five Years Later...

Five Years Later...

A lot can change in five years. Students who were at Redbright have now started their careers. People have moved out, moved in, started a new life together or apart. Some move on from the city while others return to it. But while the lives of its residents continue to grow and change, London remains as it has ever been: a focal point for magical power.

A tentative peace
The last five years have not been without conflict, both internal and external. The vampires have played with the politics of in-fighting and backstabbing. The werewolves have overthrown their leader and chosen a new alpha. The witches have suffered one scandal after another. And the fae have quietly engineered a small change here, a personal revenge there, until finally with Redbright and Hillingdon acting as neutral parties a peace agreement was reached between Circle Daybreak, the Islington Nest and the East End Pack. Their territories are still beholden to the same rules (e.g. vampires are still forbidden to enter East End territory and vice versa) but they are no longer in open conflict. Small steps, perhaps, but positive ones.

A delicate balance
The year is 2022. The balance of power in the city is now evenly split between the East End Pack, Islington Nest and Circle Daybreak, thanks largely to the rise of the werewolves and the new President Laura Roslin who simultaneously holds the post of Werewolf Representative.

Samantha Okeke lost her position as Witch Representative following allegations of corruption, and has been replaced by Diphylleia "Dee" Absin, a much more co-operative member of the Night Council. While Samantha has retained her title of Mother of Witches, there are rumours that she lost her powers during a confrontation with a powerful fae. Circle Daybreak firmly denies all such speculation.

The connections between the Redbright Institute and the Hillingdon Clan have grown stronger since the former is now perceived to be a more neutral force rather than tied to the Night Council, although Hillingdon certainly still has the less clean-cut image of the two.

Meanwhile, the Seelie and Unseelie Court have largely withdrawn from public life in the mortal realm except in isolated corners, though they claim the right to go where they please throughout the city. Consequently, there are no barriers preventing travel between the realms, which seems for now to be an acceptable compromise.

And after all, politics is the art of compromise.

Looking ahead
All in all, the vampire and fae presence in the city has reduced as the vampires move around and the fae decide that if they're invited it can't be that great a party anyway. The number of witches has recovered thanks to an amnesty allowing those who were once members of Circle Midnight to return (though the faction itself has not reappeared).

The biggest change that has been noticed first by staff at the Redbright Institute however is the increasing number of meta humans, in particular young meta humans, being discovered in the city. Often these are humans with no knowledge of the supernatural developing their powers for the first time. The reason why has yet to be discovered...

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It takes her a few moments to realize Eames isn't following her in. Glancing over her shoulder, she looks at him. "You can come in, if you want." He doesn't have to. She doesn't expect it.

The bedroom is right off of their living room, Nancy's purse right by the door where she'd left it. She grabs what she knows she'll need, stuffing them into her bag. She's done this before, packed up as quick as she could, though last time it had been the middle of the night and she'd been running to her boyfriend. Now she was running away from another.

She pauses, about to leave the room and return to the living room when glances back at the unmade bed. At the small closet just beyond. Nancy's feet move her there without her permission, her hands acting of their own accord as she reached up and took one of Bill's shirts off it's hangar. Raising it to her nose, she inhaled deeply. Still smelled just like him.

She stuffs it in her bag and returns to Eames.

"I need to leave or I'll never be able to go."

He does, but only enough to close the door behind him. Eames stays there, waiting patiently until Nancy's done, and when she comes back out he nods in understanding. He wants to be out of here ASAP anyway, so he doesn't bother checking if she's sure or asking if she got everything she needs, just leads the way back down to the cab that's been waiting for them and informs the driver they'll be heading to the Angelo next.

Nancy follows Eames into the cab, clinging to her bag like it was her lifeforce. She doesn't look out the window, just looks down as they head toward Islington.

she waits until they're a few miles away before she leans against Eames. "Thank you."

"Of course," he says, putting a hand on he leg to give her a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Eames looks out the window, watching London go by. It's still early but he feels like they've been doing this all day. But This is the hardest part, it gets... Well, more manageable from here.

"don't tell anyone," Nancy says after a few moments. "He'll ask around when he knows I'm not home." She glances at her phone.

"May show up at yours, he'll get your scent from the flat." Gods she hoped Bill stayed far away from Eames.

"I know how to keep a secret," he says, a joking tone but he's serious. Nobody's finding out anything from him.

"still- I've got to say it. Out loud." She wishes she had someone else she could talk to about this. "Can't even tell Dodge."

Eames sighs softly and pats her leg again, "you'll get your life back. We just need to get through this part."

"I don't know what life is like without him," Nancy admits quietly. The moment the words leave her mouth, she's crying again. "I'm not going to be able to see anyone ever again! Dodger looks up to him so much- I can't ever see him again, can I?" She looks up with panic in her eyes.

"Oh gods..."

"You'll see him again, we'll figure it out." Eames turns to face her a little, lifting a hand to brush some of her tears away with his thumb, "I'm not sequestering you away from civilisation forever, just long enough to figure out how to keep you and that child safe from him."

Nancy wants to believe him, she really does. But the more she thinks about it, the harder it's going to be. Most people she knew knew Bill. Knew what he was capable of. Once upon a time, she'd had friends in high places- she'd been a friend of the president- but now Eames was the most prominent friend she had.

How quickly she'd faded from public eye.

Nancy nods, her hand on her stomach again. It didn't hurt to play along, and honestly she didn't have the strength to fight right now. She felt so tight that she might snap at any moment.

"I'm not afraid of him," she says softly. "I'm just heartbroken- I've been with him for over half of my life. I've got his initials on my ribs- and you've seen his tattoo." Bill had her name, the N and Y forming a heart on his chest. He wasn't shy about showing it off, either.

The tattoos, of course, paled in comparison to the other lasting marks Bill had left on Nancy's body and mind.

"He's not going to know what to do. He'll be so lost without me, Eames." There's almost a pleading in her voice as she looks up at Eames.

Okay well first of all the Lord of Autumn is a pretty big deal okay.

It takes some self-restraint not to say 'good' at Nancy's worries about Bill, maybe he'll go get lost in a ditch. He sighs softly and shakes his head, "you don't need to worry about that anymore."

Eames tilts his head, frowning. It's not that he doesn't understand how deeply Nancy loves him, how much she cares, he just doesn't have the patience for her worrying about a man who brutalised her for nearly 15 years. And in a way it's a credit to their friendship that he doesn't bother faking it.

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. He's not your responsibility anymore."

Okay, but she used to be bffs with the president.

"I know. But I'm going to worry." It's what she did, they all knew that by now. "I want him to be happy. I do. I really, really do." He deserved happiness. But so did Nancy, right? Her baby, certainly.

"A man like him is never going to be happy, not for real."

Eames leans back in his seat, looking back out the window, "you can want the best for him, but it's up to him to find it."

She couldn't deny it. Bill would never be happy. She didn't think he even knew how. But did any of them?

"I hope- I really, really hope he does."

Eames is pretty happy. Aside from right now. But in general, happy. And if he can do it, well. Some other people probably can too. Upwards of four people.

Anyway, Eames doesn't have much else to say to that. He just sighs softly and watches for the Angelo to come into view, electing not to comment on the happiness Bill doesn't deserve.

She's content with the silence, oddly enough. Eames is still with her, and, she assumes, he's going to stay with her for a while. Help take care of her.

When they pull up at the curb in front of the lavish hotel, Nancy doesn't hurry to leave. While the attendants open the car doors and offer to take Ms. Bellrose's things (they remembered her here), Nancy looks over at Eames, her brow creased.

"What's next? After this?"

Yeah, they remember Eames too. It's why he has to open his own door.

He's not bothered though, he looks back at Nancy and offers her a smile before he steps out of the car.

"Lunch, I think."

Lunch. Breakfast seemed like it had been a thousand years ago, though she can't really find an appetite. There are worse things in the world, however, and the menu here was always good.

Maybe she could even get herself some booze- oh that's right. Her flask was in her purse.

Brilliant.

"That'd be great. Room service? I don't want to be in public."

"Of course." Between Eames' wallet and Cesare's generosity, they can get whatever the hell they want. He doesn't have much of an appetite either, but he might as well indulge.

They probably look quite a pair as they walk in, Nancy tired and, well. Not dressed her best, that's for sure, and Eames still in his tracksuit from this morning, but Eames holds himself like he could be wearing a bespoke suit straight from Milan as he offers Nancy an arm. A light glamour, to make Nancy look a little healthier, but otherwise fuck it.

It takes no time at all to check in. Nancy's recognized on sight and the keys to her suite handed over. It's nice to, for once, not have to think about money, since so much of her life revolved around the pursuit of it.

She can feel the glamour pass over her, and she leans her head against Eames' arm as they walk to the elevator. "Thank you," she whispers, "I don't think i could do it right now, state I'm in." Magic took energy, and Nancy had none to spare today.

"But do I really look that awful?"

"You're not your best," which is a polite way of saying she does, but it's understandable. But you don't want to be looking run down in a place like this either, people have a nasty habit of talking about things that don't concern them.

Besides, it takes almost no energy for Eames anyway.

Nancy sighs. Hopefully most people here can't see through the glamour. She appreciates the effort, regardless.

The trip to the elevator and up to the suites is quick and easy, and it's not too long before they're opening the door to her suite.

There is, of course, a minibar, a large bathroom, really everything she needs to hide out in the lap of luxury. She'll be well-cared for here, she always was. Gingerly, she pulls off her coat for the first time since she put it on, bruises visible now on her arms.

"Lunch?"

Even another illusionist would have a hard time seeing through his magic, don't you worry Nance.

He grimaces at the bruises, but his gaze doesn't linger. He'll just treat them like the bites from when she used to do blood work, just pretend they're not there. Eames drops his jacket on the bed and goes straight to the minibar; he'd love a beer right about now, but since he's not allowing someone to drink while he's around, it only seems fair not to partake, so he goes for a can of lemonade instead.

"Lunch," he agrees, "where's the menu?"

She knows that look. It's the same look she'd get from everyone that knew. God- it had been this big, dirty secret to her. Her boyfriend hits her. Her boyfriend strangles her. Her boyfriend has thrown her through a coffee table. Her boyfriend beats her so badly she sometimes passes out.

The look Eames gives, that tiny little grimace, she's seen it before.

The minibar catches her attention and her eyes light up, just for a moment, at the sight of all the tiny bottles. She'd have them finished by morning, of that there was no doubt. She hopes maybe he'll take a beer and give her a good excuse to go to her flask (not like today isn't a good enough excuse as-is) but he grabs a lemonade. Damn it.

"Sparkling water, please" she tells him, because that will taste great with the gin she has in her flask. While he does that, she gets up and manually takes the large black binder from the desk. She flips through it for a few moments before handing it to Eames.

"There's a spa package- I was thinking maybe that'd be good? Keep me distracted?" Get a nice massage, help her relax.

Five Years Later...

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