If you're looking for an adventure in the morally grey, and a crash course of the human condition, this is the story for you! What is good and evil? Where is that line drawn, and who decides that? Packed with humor, danger, feels, and awkward relati...
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The room was fuller than she thought any of them would have expected just half a year ago. Three rows of five chairs were set out and most were occupied if not claimed by someone standing in the room. For people like them–murderers and rapists–they'd had no one when this all began. Now though, the room was full of people mourning, friends, comrades, and lovers.
At least most of the room was in mourning.
There was of course the one man and woman of the press who were allowed to dictate the event to the eager assholes awaiting the moment they snuffed Tanner and Ian's lives out. Everyone wanted the headlines, and Rachel wanted to throttle them. This wasn't a story to stoke the curiosity of the masses, it was people's lives. She supposed someone had to write the end of Tanner's story, but why did it have to be them?
A man with short russet hair and thick, black-rimmed glasses, and a woman with jet hair, tied back that had a blue streak on the right side. Both were dressed in lower formality–a grey sweater over a collared shirt for the man, and a dark blouse and suit pants for the woman. No matter how she engrained their faces into her memory, she couldn't hunt them down and kill them later.
Well, likely not. Who knew?
Instead of focusing on them, she passed over the prison warden with her eyes to find another strange congregation of people. There were two obvious lawyers in suits, flanking a woman Rachel had not seen before, and she was obviously not the paparazzi. Maybe Maggie's age or a bit older, she was in her late twenties. There was an ice-cold look on her face, and she was dressed as if this were a party. The woman had heels on that were at least two inches and an eye-melting, red dress that had frills around the shoulders. With her chestnut curls tied tight in some sort of bun against her head, she had dark, spiteful eyes.
It was hard to look at her, and Rachel returned her gaze to the people who grounded her. It took a lot to keep herself form crying so that Tanner could see her smile once more before he left this world. Every waking moment, she was focusing on someone with them, a chore, a game, gun practice. Hell, she'd started helping some skinny guy in the back with Oliver's accounting the evening before until she'd passed out. They knew what she was doing, but no one minded.
Rachel was sitting next to Julian and his psychiatrist, or doctor, or whatever she was. Liz wasn't unpleasant, and she had fought so that Julian could be here with them. Rachel had to respect her for that. When they'd arrived, Rachel had smothered Julian in a hug that had scared the living hell out of a nurse aid that was now standing against the wall. The man had as much muscle as Tanner and was here to make sure that Julian behaved.
Julian glanced over and smiled understandingly, crossing his arms against his chest with a sigh. After they'd had contact, Muscles and Liz had explained to her that Julian wasn't to touch anyone while he was out. It was not hard to see how badly Julian wanted to touch her and Nathan.
Nathan was flanking her on the right, but he was an absolute disaster. Puffy eyes gave his face a sunken-in appearance, and he was barely managing to sit in his chair. Donovan was on his right, holding him up with an arm around his shoulder. With his falling apart in Donovan's arms, she'd decided it best to leave him alone. Nathan had already taken one look at the bump under her shirt and shook convulsively before sinking into Donovan. She was handling this about as well as Nathan was; it was just being compartmentalized for Tanner's sake.
