Ride or Die

All Out of White Flags

Chapter 12: All Out of White Flags

Harry sat in silence as Daphne came out of the bathroom, her wet hair tangled and dripping down her back as she headed vacantly to the second bedroom, pointedly not looking at him where he sat on the couch. He watched, taking a quiet sip of whiskey and wondering what he could possibly say when she suddenly stopped, backing up to glance at him.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked flatly, her voice low.

He frowned, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table. "What do you mean?"

She stared at him, her hazel eyes wide and pleading, before shaking her head and resuming her path to her room. She tossed the word "nevermind" over her shoulder and kept walking, muttering to herself. Her feet padded quietly down the hall and Harry sighed, rising to follow.

"Daphne," he called, knocking on the open doorframe and watching as she dried her hair with a hand towel, staring into space, the material of his t-shirt draped loosely over her shoulders. "Are you asking what to do while you're staying here - " or something else, he thought silently, like how the fuck you're supposed to go on living without the last of your family?

She didn't say anything; she didn't turn around.

He wished for a moment he could have seen her again under other circumstances.

"You don't have to do anything," he told her, opting to answer the easier question. "Sleep if you want. Watch TV." He gestured behind him, feeling silly as he did it, since she clearly wasn't looking. "I have some books - "

"You want me to stay inside this apartment," she interrupted, lowering herself to sit on the air mattress he'd placed in the corner of the empty second bedroom - he'd thought he needed another room for storage when he chose the place until he remembered he owned nothing - before looking up at him, the question mixing with a trace of demand. "You might as well lock me up, Officer," she said, her lovely mouth twisting into a bitter frown as she forced out a humorless laugh. "It'd be about the same."

Harry sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Wait here," he instructed gruffly, wandering into his own bedroom. He opened the safe he used to keep his Beretta and withdrew it along with a magazine, bringing it back to her room and finding with a momentary lurch of surprise that she seemed to exhale with relief upon his return.

"So," he said, clearing his throat. "I have a safe in the other room where I keep this. I have my police issue with me," he said, shrugging, "so if you really want to leave, you can take this one with you. You should take it with you," he amended, shaking his head. "Just in case, if you decide you want to try to go anywhere."

She stared at him; first at his face and then at the gun in his hand, looking slightly sickened at the sight.

"So, um," Harry continued, flipping it over in his hand, "to use it, you just have to - "

He broke off as Daphne suddenly rose to her feet, moving to stand directly in front of him. He paused, holding his breath as she reached out and took both the pistol and the mag from his hand, locking the slide back and expertly loading the Beretta with a chambered round before disabling the safety and aiming the barrel at his head, her finger unnervingly steady on the trigger.

"Like this?" she said flatly, and for a moment Harry heard a quiet ringing in his ears; felt a warning knot curl up in his throat.

"Should I put my hands up?" he asked, trying not to let his breath catch as he slowly raised them in the air, staring at her expressionless face. "I'm fresh out of white flags."