Prologue
Chapter II: The Memories

 

“I hate you so much,” Jacket mumbled quietly, staring at his hand — or rather, at the glass in it. L slapped his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up and take the shot, Jack,” she said. Not that she was any more eager to proceed with what could best be described as ritual, communal self-flagellation by way of liver trauma. She gritted her teeth. Someone had to do it. She licked the salt off her hand and downed the shot of liquid ass, and added a lime — for flavor. She rammed the glass upside down on the bar. 

“You used to be way worse at that,” Firefly said. He looked… almost sad? Was he genuinely upset because she didn’t cough half of it back up? For her loss of innocence? Or was he just impressed, and maybe a little intimidated? L hoped it was the latter. He deserved to be intimidated, after everything that had happened between them, and especially after everything that hadn’t happened between them. Next to him, Jacket showed the appropriate response to doing a shot when you’re not used to it, which is to cough so hard someone has to slap you on the back, rubbing your eyes because they’re full of tears, and then remembering you have salt, alcohol and lime juice on your hands and immediately regretting it. 

“I own a bar, Fire— Franklin, I can take one shot of tequila,” L said. She put a hand on her hip, challenging him to say something. Owning her own watering hole had the side effect of being able to take on a smart mouth too. She didn’t have to be clever, just stand her ground. Wisely, he kept mum. Beatrice walked over to her with thunder in her eyes. Her perfect makeup, hair, and wedding dress were in stark contrast to the hateful scowl on her face. “You gonna kill me, Bee?”

“Thinking about it,” Beatrice growled. “But I’ll make it slow.” She turned her head. “Two more.”

Oh. So that’s how it was going to be, L realized. Bee was going to drown her in liquor. Well, she was going to try. “You can fucking try, Bee,” she said and finally sat down. They’d sort of grouped up at the edge of the bar, so they could all take a seat on the stools. “Where’s the lucky man, anyway?”

“Drunk and asleep upstairs,” Beatrice said with so little emotion L was sort of taken aback by it. “What’s it to you, Ladybug? You want more of my shit?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Beatrice,” L said, “but no, I’m just worried about you and your whole wedding.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

“Why’d you come here, L?” Bee asked, and turned to the others. “Why did any of you? Because, if I recall correctly, every single one of you turned your backs on me, and I would have not have considered inviting you to my fucking wedding day if you’d put a gun to my head and told me it was the only way to save the world.”

“Well,” Firefly said, “maybe you don’t recall correctly, and also, have you considered shoving it all the way up your ass?” Despite how they’d parted ways, L couldn’t help but smile at Franklin’s unwillingness to put up with Bee’s bullshit. 

“Stick?” she asked. 

“Her head.”

“Gotcha.” L fired her double-barrel finger-guns at him. Him and her, they were still on the same wavelength, sometimes. Even the part where she could tell he thought the same thing, because the cheeky grin dropped ever so slightly. Well, now they were both remembering better times. Great. 

“Fuck you,” Bee said, “and fuck you, too.” She pointed at the bartender, who was looking so spooked L was worried he’d piss himself. Nobody could pull off the woman scorned as well as Beatrice, and few did it as often. Bee was easy to scorn. Very scornable face, L had always thought. “Gimme those three bottles,” she pointed at several hard liquors, “a six-pack of PBR and that Merlot you keep pretending you don’t have.” The boy did as he was asked. Clever boy. That’s how you live longer. “What about the rest of you?”

Jacket held up his hands defensively. “Wasp let me know it was happening, and we figured we could drop by and maybe… I don’t know. Catch up. Congratulate you.” He tried to smile, in that way that was more of an apology than a facial expression. “Bury the hatchet.” Jacket and Beatrice hadn’t been on the best of terms. Not for some time, anyway.

Wasp just shrugged. She’d always been a bit more quiet — although she could absolutely hold her drink — but that didn’t mean she avoided conflict. Her being here meant she was willing to put an end to any kind of animosity. So L figured, at least.

Franklin downed his third shot and hissed through his teeth. “Yeahhh,” he said. “I mean, we promised, right?” Beatrice and L both tried to boil his brain by glaring at it intently, but it didn’t seem to be catching fire any time soon. “And I mean, worst comes to worst, we can warn the lucky man about his widow-to-be, at the very least.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Bee said. She walked away from the bar to a table, and the others followed. Beatrice was like that. The kind of person you ended up following into a terrible idea. Outside, the party was still going. It probably would for quite some time, and the people working the second bar would have plenty of work. Beatrice sat down and poured six more shots. Tonight was going to hurt, L knew, but not as much as the next morning. “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this one, and if you fuck it up I’ll rip your spine out through your nostrils.”

“Wait, fuck,” Franklin said with an exasperated sigh as he sat down, “I was kidding. Your guy’s a mark?”

“He’s a Jake, actually,” Bee said with a smirk. “I think I have a weakness. And no, not exactly.” Her and Jacket avoided each other’s gaze in a totally inconspicuous way. “But yeah, no, I didn’t fall deeply in love with some fucking German art collector just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I thought he was just another rich asshole — you know, love at first sight.” She downed her shot and chased it with a beer. “After everything went sideways, I needed a backup plan. But he turned out to be genuinely nice, so here we are.”

“Jesus Christ, Bee,” Jacket said, shaking his head, but he was chuckling under his breath. “You didn’t change at all, did you?” 

“Nah. But you did,” she said, pointing at him with her beer bottle. “Married with kids, right?”

“Not married,” Jacket said. “And separated. But kids, yeah. Two of them. The oldest is three.”

“Good,” Beatrice said after a moment, without a hint of irony or spite or venom. L was expecting some kind of sarcastic remark to balance out the authenticity. “You were always going to be a good dad.” Jacket took one of the beers and popped the cap off. 

“Thanks,” he said, staring at it. A decision seemed to be made, and he downed it in a single go.

“What about you?” Franklin said, turning to Mads, currently still the spitting image of Abraham Lincoln and their legs propped up on the table. Once upon a time, L would have been freaked out, or excited, or just amused by Mads’ antics. And yeah, after five years of nothing, it was a little novel again. But like, Lincoln? That was the best they could do? “Why are you here?” 

“Aw, come on,” Mads said, holding their hands open, “what else was I supposed to do?” They held their drink up. “Bee gets married, of course the rest of you show up. I wasn’t going to miss a reunion for the world. Besides,” they said, “I missed you lot.”

“Missed you too, Mads,” Wasp said, cradling her ginger ale. 

“Now you,” Franklin said, spinning around, “are not one to speak up too much. The last thing I saw of you, Wasp, was your back, as you walked away with most, if not all of our money.”

“Half,” L said. “Mads took the other half, if you’ll remember.”

“In my defense—” Mads began, but they were cut off.

“Was that before or after you claimed you didn’t need us anymore, Ladybug?” Franklin stood up again, clearly ready for a confrontation.

“I don’t know, Firefly,” L said, standing up too. Not that she came up all that high. She didn’t have to. She’d thrown bigger guys than him out of her bar. “I think it was after you fucked around behind my back!”

“Hey, fuck you, I never did anything like that!” Franklin looked like he was ready to throw down. L squared her jaw and her shoulders. If he was going to be an asshole, she was more than ready to take him on. Sort of. Maybe. They glared at each other, trying to gauge which one of them was going to be the first to take a shot. 

Jacket smacked both of them over the back of the head. “Sit the fuck down, you two.”

L started to protest. “What are y—”

“No, none of that,” Jacket said, pointing at her. “Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down, and have a fucking beer. All of that was five years ago. And how long have we known each other?” He stared the two of them down until they sat down like embarrassed children. He wasn’t wrong. L sort of knew what Beatrice had seen in him. “Fifteen years,” Jacket continued. “Including the past five. We’re better than this. We ought to be.”

“Psh,” L said, and took a swig from her beer. “As if.” She nearly choked on her beer when she felt a hand on hers. Wasp had reached out, her hand cool and soft. That was… new. Not something she used to do. 

“Give it a chance, Ladybug,” Wasp said softly. Well. Well. It had been so easy for L to get lost in the (admittedly alcohol-fueled) rage and indignation. But now Wasp, famously stand-offish, not-interested-in-affection-or-emotional-engagement Wasp, had reached out to her. Literally. Well then. What could a woman do but hide her blush behind her beer. 

“Fine,” L said as she wiped her mouth and smeared her lipstick with the back of her hand. “But I better get an apology out of this fuckweasel.” She nodded at Firefly. 

“Fuck you kindly, LB,” Franklin said. “I’m not apologizing for not doing anything wrong.”

“You wanna fucking go?” L said, though not getting up. Franklin just rolled his eyes and turned away. “Thought so.” She shook her head. Silence descended on their table, everyone staring at walls or their drinks. Except Wasp. Wasp seemed to be observing everyone. Every time L looked at her, their eyes locked. It was getting harder and harder to pretend like she knew what those were supposed to mean. Despite years of being terrible at communication, L had yet to learn the secrets of mind-reading. 

“So, this guy of yours,” Jacket asked, “you really think he’s the one?” 

“Jacks, I haven’t gone that soft. He’s a guy,” Beatrice said. “But he seems to genuinely like me for me and that’s... I don’t know. Not something I thought I’d have again. Or something I want to let go.” Jacket seemed a little hurt. L could tell a part of him had been hopeful, after the revelation, that there was still a chance for the two of them. 

“Good for you,” Jacket mumbled. 

Mads seemed to have gotten bored, took the coin out of their pocket and flipped it, in full fucking view of the bar. L just had to hope the bartender wasn’t paying too much attention. “Heads,” they said, and caught it. Suddenly, a plucky twenty-something femme with bushy red hair sat in their place. Franklin frowned at them. 

“C’mon, Mads.”

“What?”

“You know what. We’re in public. You can’t just flip that thing whenever, wherever you want.”

Mads looked around. “Sure looks like I can. Nobody’s stopped me yet.” Everyone shook their collective heads. Containing Mads was like trying to contain a ricocheting bullet. You had to wait for them to slow down. And they never did. Well, they used to. But not anymore. Silence slowly settled on the table again, like a wet blanket. 

“It’s really been fifteen years?” L finally asked. 

“Yeah,” Franklin said. “It has.”

“Fuck. We were kids,” Jacket said, shaking his head. “Time fucking flies, man. What happened to us?” 

“Time,” Beatrice said. “We grew up.”

“Fuck that,” Mads said. “Speak for yourself. What happened is a lot of bad shit came together and kicked our asses, that’s what happened.”

“And you and Wasp fucking off with our fucking money,” Bee said. “Don’t forget that part.”

“Like I said—” Mads started, and again were cut off.

“The point is that we all made it out alive,” Franklin said. “And we wouldn’t be here without Mads anyway. And I wouldn’t be here without Wasp.” Mads held the coin in their hand, looking at it, before disappearing it when they realized everyone was staring at them. 

It couldn’t be helped. L fell down the rabbithole of memories. All of them did.

Back to where it started.