[Hollows Fic] Return to the Hollows - Rachel/Ivy (3/11)

[jaina47]

Title: Return to the Hollows
Author(s): Jaina
Fandom: The Hollows aka Rachel Morgan aka that series by Kim Harrison
Characters: Rachel Morgan, Ivy Tamwood,
Genre: Drama, angst, romance
Summary: Rachel is always making mistakes. One day things go too far. Some mistakes can't be fixed or gone past. Some mistakes are lasting, and some have consequences that can change lives.
Disclaimer: All characters, and the universe that they go with belong to Kim Harrison. I'm just playing in the sandbox. No infringement is intended.
Spoilers: Goes through White Witch, Black Curse, although I don't think they're particularly glaring or massive.
Notes: My thanks to my beta for this one, infinitlight . She was awesome enough to look over this massive fic for me, and I really appreciate the time, effort and level of detail that she put into looking over this. Also the number of times that she had to uncapitalize were and warehouse. Sorry, dude. My bad.

Part One ||  Part Two


Part Three

Fifteen Years Later

The dull ringing of the phone slowly invaded my consciousness.  There was no way to know how long it had been ringing before I had realized what it was, and rolled over, fumbling to answer it blindly.

"Rachel Morgan, Independent Runner," I slurred into the phone, my voice still fogged with sleep.

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end and I was about to hang up and roll back over.  A quick glance at the clock told me that it was only nine o'clock.  Still pretty early yet for a witch and far too early for me. I had only gotten to bed a few hours earlier. 

"It's been a long time, Ms. Morgan." 

I was drifting in that space between sleep and being fully awake. The words startled me.  When I processed what had actually been said, that surprise turned to a jolt of worry. 

"Who is this?" I demanded into the phone, suddenly awake.  

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rested my head on my elbow and eyed the industrial carpet under my feet.  It looked shabby and worn, I thought, and I gripped the phone tightly. It wasn't doing anything to make this room feel any more like a real home.  Of course it was just one in a very long line of motel rooms.  No matter how different they were, they were all very much the same. 

"You don't recognize my voice?"  the person on the other end said mockingly. 

I tapped a line without thinking about it.  By now, it was my automatic response to feeling threatened.  There was very little I could do to someone over the phone, but it was better to be prepared than caught off guard.  I had learned that the hard way.

"After all, I would think you'd recognize the voice of the human you pimped ketchup to for years? Or are there too many people who fit those conditions now for you to remember your first?"

"Glenn?"  I blurted out his name in disbelief. It had been years since I had spoken to him.  

"The one and only," he said cheerily.  "Long time, no see, Rachel."

I shook my head, still in shock at hearing Glenn's voice.  I had never expected to see or hear from him again after I left the Hollows, although it wasn't that odd considering what I did these days. Glenn had always seemed like a career FIB guy, and since I spent most of my time consulting for them.... It was probably more surprising that I hadn't run into him before, come to think of it. 

"You can say that again." I cleared my throat.  "Although on second thought, don't."  I'd almost had enough time to start thinking again.  "What's up, Glenn?" I asked, suddenly wary. 

"Can't a detective just look up an old friend after a long time with no ulterior motive?"

I wouldn't have bought back it then and I didn't buy it now.  I said as much. 

"You're right," Glenn admitted, without any hesitation.  "I need some help, Rachel."

"No!"  I blurted the answer out without even taking a moment to consider it. 

"You might want to hear me out first," Glenn said mildly.  

"I'm not coming back to the Hollows, Glenn.  You can just forget it right now," I added, getting up to pace around the room, and picking up the clothes that I had dropped the night before as I had fallen into bed. 

"We've had a lot of deaths lately." 

"What's new," I scoffed as I tugged my jeans up first one leg than another, hopping a little as I tried to do it one-handed.  

"They're all witches." 

I rolled my eyes.  "Get to the good part, Glenn or stop wasting my time." I paused. "Actually I'd take a look at Trent for that."

"Still, Rachel? I thought you'd let that one go by now."

"Not likely," I snapped back, chewing at my lip.  "But if that's the best you've got, it's not going to work."

"Oh, that's not all," he added.  "They all have green eyes and red hair."  

"Sounds like a serial killer," I commented, as I pulled my t-shirt awkwardly over my head.  I let the silence hang in the air, making it clear that I still wasn't interested. 

Glenn's sigh was audible even through the phone line. 

"They have one more thing in common; they all look a lot like you, Rachel."

This time the silence was different.  I sank back onto the bed.

"What are you saying, Glenn?" I finally asked, tiredly.

"I'm saying that I think there might be a connection there."

"I've been gone a long time, Glenn.  You said it yourself.  Why would there be a connection?"

"I don't have to tell you that you made a lot of very powerful enemies here."

"You think someone's targeting witches who look like me?"  Not good. Not good at all.

"It's a possibility," Glenn admitted slowly. There was another pause. "Rachel, you're a very hard person to track down."

That was comforting to know at least, especially since I had put a lot of effort into becoming just that over the years.

"And, honestly," Glenn continued, "I wouldn't have bothered you if I had any other options.  But I think your presence could break open the case."

I gritted my teeth as he waited for my response. 

"I'm not coming back to the Hollows, Glenn," I said firmly.

"If you don't, more witches will die, and those deaths will be completely on your head."  Glenn's calm statement of fact hit me just as hard as he'd obviously meant it to. 

There was nothing else I could say to that.  I didn't have any choice. 

"I'll call you when I get there," I said with a sigh.  Everything inside me was screaming that this was a very, very bad idea but I couldn't say no. Not to Glenn.

"Thank you, Rachel," Glenn managed to keep most of the smugness out of his voice.  He had gotten what he wanted.  

I promptly hung up on him.  I was going back to the Hollows for the first time in years.  The thought made me slightly nauseated.  I wasn't sure how I was going to get through this.  In and out as fast as possible would be my best bet.  With any luck, I wouldn't even see Ivy.

***   ***  ***

"Glenn, you'd better be sure about this," I muttered underneath my breath.  He couldn't hear me.  He wasn't even there, but I was still cursing him in his absence.  Not only had he gotten me back to the Hollows, but he had also told me to show up at this party.  It was a gathering of all of the city's most powerful and dangerous men and women. 

And here I was in the midst of it.  Serving notice that I was back, and that something would be done about these murders.  Whoever was responsible would be taken down. 

I wasn't sure that I still had that much of a reputation around the Hollows, but being the only witch to leave the I.S. without dying was something no one else had managed to do again.  Even happening as long ago as it did, people still remembered it.  That was what I was counting on.  Well, that and the kick-ass dress that I was wearing.  If I was going to do this, I was going to do it the right way.

I had spent a long time getting ready that afternoon.  It had required a shopping trip to get a new dress and several hours of primping.  The pinkie ring that my father had given me to cover blemishes sat on my hand.  My dress hugged every curve of my body, and fit like a glove.  The smooth black material fell from a thin halter around my neck to emphasize my less than generous cleavage.  A slit ran up the left side and ended dangerously high on my thigh.  

For once, I had managed to do something with my hair, spending hours and a half-dozen amulets to tame it down before I piled it up on my head, leaving curling red tendrils hanging down around my face.  

A thin black choker circled my neck, drawing attention to it since I was safely off limits.  Over the years, I had learned that it drove vamps - both living and dead - crazy.  I wasn't above taking advantage of it, especially not tonight.  

The final addition to my outfit had been a spray of the perfume that I had spent years trying to find.  As far as I had been able to determine it was the last bottle in existence, and I had paid a price for it that I still didn't like to think about. Still it had been worth it. It was the twin to the only bottle that Ivy had ever bought me that proved to be absolutely effective in masking my scent.  It was exactly what the night called for.

I was counting on the element of surprise. 

A waiter held out a tray and pulled me out of my reverie.  It was time to stop messing around and get my head in the game.  The important guests were just starting to drift in and I had a full night of mingling ahead of me. 

Across the room, I saw Glenn gesture toward me to the man he was speaking to. I straightened and smiled as the man turned away from Glenn and strode towards me.  Distractedly, I grabbed a glass of wine and sipped before the man got to my side. 

The slightly musky scent identified him to me as a Were almost immediately. 

"Ms. Morgan, a pleasure to meet you." He enfolded my hand in his and bent over it slightly. 

He had to be the smoothest Were I had ever met.  That didn't bode well. 

"I'm John Weston."  The name didn't mean anything, but the way he said made me think he expected it to. 

I tried to smile as if I knew what was going on.

"Nice to meet you too." 

"I can't believe the opportunity hasn't arisen before now.  Your Alpha only has the best things to say about you, but I've never managed to see you around the Hollows."

I smiled blandly.  So that was how this man knew me.  He knew David, and that meant pack business.  If I had to guess, I would say it was definitely antagonistic business.

"The Hollows is a big place," I demurred.  

"Indeed it is," he agreed. "But I should think that we will be seeing more of one another soon. Especially if you're going to be spending more time here in the Hollows."

"Mmm," I made a non-committal noise and wished for Glenn to come rescue me.  I definitely needed to call David in the morning and find out what the Turn had been going on in the pack in my absence.  Especially if this guy was going to make it my business.

 

Something tugged at my subconscious, and I looked away from him, trying to figure out what it had been.  Weston kept talking, his voice droning on and on, but I was no longer paying attention. 

"Excuse me," I cut into whatever he was saying.  "I think I see a friend of mine." 

There was no one of course, but I wanted an excuse to get away from him and focus on the strange, familiar feeling that was growing with every moment.  It was so nebulous I couldn't make sense of it, but it was definitely there.  I found a relatively private spot, leaned up against the support pillar and focused.  For a second my vision blurred and then I was surveying the room with my second sight. 

Out of habit the security spells caught my eye.  I made a mental note of them although I had no intention of being in a situation where I would need to know about them tonight.  Other than that, there was nothing odd going on that I could see, and the overlay of the demon world was making the room look very strange.

Reluctantly, I let go of my second sight and took another sip of wine.  Just about to turn away and see if I could find Glenn in the crowd, a caught a glimpse of a tall, ebony-haired woman entering the room. 

My breath caught in my throat.  Ivy. Somehow I hadn't thought about seeing her here tonight. I should have expected it, really.  If she was still a part of Rynn Cormel's camarilla, she would certainly have moved up in the ranks by now.  Ivy was a power player and for tonight this is where they would be gathering.

She looked good.  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.  She hadn't seen me yet.  I was far enough back in the crowd not to be immediately obvious, so I allowed myself a moment to take her in.  Gone, at least for tonight, was the bad-ass runner Ivy that I had known and loved.  The pin-striped suit she was wearing was form-fitting, but made her look more like a professional business woman than a runner. Only the low cut suit jacket and the thin chain of gold drawing attention to her neck hinted at something darker, and more dangerous beneath that restraint. 

Her long, dark hair was falling gently down her back and stopped just below her shoulders.  She was just as lithe and slender as I remembered, still moving with that subtle strength and grace that was an integral part of her. I let myself take in her features.  They were still that mixture of delicate yet strong that I remembered.  She looked more mature, calmer, and more comfortable in her own skin than I remembered, but hardly any older.  She looked just as beautiful, though.

As if she could feel my eyes on her, Ivy glanced across the room and looked directly at me.  The surprise of seeing me there seemed to hit her like a visible blow, emotion rippling across her face, before she masked her expression once again.

Dread and excitement mixed into a heady rush of anticipation and nausea that left my palms sweating and my heart racing.  I gripped the wine glass in my hand just a little bit tighter, as Ivy began to walk across the room toward me.  Knowing she could hear my heart pounding in my chest only made it race faster. The heat of a faint blush slid across my cheeks. 

Turn it, she wasn't still supposed to make me feel this way.  Time and distance were supposed to have weakened the hold she had on me, not left it unchanged. 

"Ms. Tamwood," A man wearing a police dress uniform bearing the insignia of a captain stepped up between us.  "It's good to have you with us this evening. I see you've met Ms. Morgan.  She's the consultant that we brought in to assist us with the witch murders."

Ivy didn't bother to acknowledge the man.  Her eyes never slid away from mine as she held a hand out to me. 

"Ms. Morgan." Her voice was a low purr that I felt down to the tip of my toes.

My hand slipped around hers.  The scent of incense surrounded me.  I had to concentrate to keep my eyes from drifting closed and simply soaking in the sensation.  Her fingers squeezed around mine briefly before she let go. 

"Ms. Tamwood," I returned the greeting as calmly - I hoped - as she'd greeted me. 

If I hadn't lived with Ivy for years, if I didn't know her so well, if we hadn't been what we were to one another, I wouldn't have noticed the rim of black that flashed around her brown eyes for a moment as our hands connected. 

I didn't realize that we had been standing in complete silence until a young boy came up to stand beside Ivy.  He held out his arm, which Ivy calmly slipped her own arm through, as he stared at me and the tableau that Ivy and I made. 

He stood almost to her shoulder as he leaned in to ask her a question. 

The only part of it that I caught was the last word.

"...Mom." 

My heart stopped for an instant and then my gaze flashed from the boy to Ivy and back again.  When I looked, it was obvious.  The stamp of Ivy's features were obvious even on his more masculine ones.  I looked down, trying to take a deep breath and compose myself. 

Ivy smiled fondly down at the boy.  She let go of my hand to caress his cheek.  The sudden gesture surprised me almost more than the knowledge that my Ivy now had a child....  I had never seen her so casual with her touch. 

"Marion," she spoke with a small tight smile. "This is Rachel Morgan.  She was my partner when I left the I.S. and my very good friend." 

And so much more.  But then, there had always been so much that Ivy and I had left unsaid.

Marion straightened almost imperceptibly, trying to stand taller.  I was still trying to get over the shock of his name.  Was it possible that Ivy had... No, that was ridiculous.  Sometimes a coincidence was just a coincidence. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Morgan."  He spoke in a strong, clear boy's voice filled with nothing but respect.  I wondered what Ivy had been telling him about me.  I was still notorious in vampire circles as the woman who had brought Piscary down.

"It's nice to meet you too, Marion," I said with a smile.  My gaze flicked back to Ivy.  "If you'll excuse me?  I think someone's calling me."

Ivy smiled politely, but the knowing look she gave me declared that my excuse was bullshit.  With her hearing, she would have been able to hear anyone calling me far better than I could. 

"Rachel."  It was the first time that she had called me by my given name all night and it froze me in place as solidly as if she had bespelled me. "I'd like to talk to you later."  She hesitated.  "About the witch murders."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding when she added her final few words. 

"Yeah," I managed to fumble the words out.  "Yeah, that would be good."  I paused, uncertain of how she would take it, but unable to deny myself.  "Ivy."

She nodded, not seeming at all unhappy with the way I had skipped the formalities and gone back to at least some level of our former familiarity. 

The thought warmed me as I turned away and dove back into the crowd.  It had happened.  I had seen Ivy for the first time since - well, for a very long time - and we had both been surprised.  No death. No blood.  No nasty scenes.  It had gone much better than I'd had any right to expect. 

Now why did that leave me feeling so sad?

***   ***   ***  ***

I should have known that Ivy wouldn't let me go so easily.  She never had. 

I stood holding a glass of red wine in my hands and not drinking it.  The FIB captain that had brought me to this shindig had insisted on getting it for me.  He was unaware that I couldn't even drink the stuff without getting a migraine.

I leaned against the wall and watched the couples mixing on the dance floor.  I would only have to stay a little bit longer before I could leave.  This was simply me, serving notice to some of Cincy's best, brightest and most likely to commit - or order committed - the recent spree of witch murders. 

A light breath of warm air danced across the skin of my neck and made me shiver.  I let my eyes fall closed and breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of incense and Ivy. 

Knowing it was bad, but unable to help myself, I tilted my head until it was touching the wall, leaving the clean line of my neck even more vulnerable and exposed than before. 

"Tease,"  Ivy muttered from behind me.

"You know it," I responded just as quietly.  This was as close to a quiet, private moment that we would get all night. 

She leaned closer.  I could feel her warmth against me, in a line down my back, paralleling my body. 

"You're wearing my perfume."

I stiffened.  She was almost right. It was the same kind, if not out of the same bottle that she had bought me years before.  Unfortunately, I'd had to leave that bottle behind in the church that day with the rest of my things. I bent my head forward as I remembered Kisten telling me that it was quite the turn-on for a vampire.

"You knew you'd be seeing me."  It wasn't a question.

I grimaced at the hurt in Ivy's voice.  Apparently, I still hating hearing that.  "Ivy," I sighed. "I wasn't sure, but I thought it might be a possibility."

I didn't need to turn around to know that pheromones were pouring off Ivy without her conscious control, her eyes slowly dilating from brown to pitch black.  The sensations flooding through me felt oh-so-good and made me glad I was already leaning against the wall as my knees went weak. 

While I could still think, my mind flashed back to the image of Ivy standing in front of me earlier in the evening. 

I spoke the only thing I could think of.  "You have a son."

"I have an heir," she corrected me immediately.  And then I could think again, the wash of pheromones fading with the change of subject.  "I have a son," Ivy corrected herself, echoing my words with an almost reverent tone. 

That did it.  I couldn't restrain myself any longer.  I had to turn and face her. 

"I never thought-"

She smiled.  It was disconcerting.  I could see the pain and hurt beneath it, but this Ivy seemed so much freer and happier than I remembered. 

"I didn't either."  She looked down.  "Especially after Kist died.  But my mother needed an heir."  She hesitated and then looked back up, into my eyes.  "After you left I didn't have a reason to refuse her, anymore." 

"You don't look like you regret it," I observed softly. 

"Do you regret it, Rachel?" Ivy countered with the same tone. 

I winced.  That was the question, wasn't it?  Did I regret leaving the Hollows?  Leaving her?  Some days, with every breath I took, but I still thought it was the right thing to do. Even more so, now. 

"No." 

Ivy's body language shifted almost imperceptibly.  Only someone skilled in the language of Ivy would have noticed the subtle ways that she was suddenly putting distance between me and her.  Ivy would always put herself out there for me; it didn't mean she liked to be hurt, any more than anyone else did.

"Where are you staying?" 

I shrugged.  "My stuff's at a hotel right now."  I grimaced.  " But I'm working on finding someplace else.  With my job, it's too dangerous for me to be staying in a place like that where a lot people could get hurt." 

Ivy glanced down at the inside of my wrist.  "Who do you owe favors to these days, Rachel?"

I drew back, insulted.  Ivy knew I didn't deal in demons, even if sometimes they seemed to deal in me. 

"None of your business, Ivy," I snapped back. 

She flashed me a smug smirk and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her.  I had grown up in the past few years, a little bit at least. 

"You know," Ivy spoke slowly, "I know a place you could stay if you need it."

I shook my head rapidly.  "I'm not staying at Tamwood Estate, Ivy.  No way.  I'm supposed to be investigating here."

Ivy folded her arms over her chest.  She was starting to look pissed.

"Are you saying that I'm under investigation?"

"No," I answered quickly and decisively.  "But your mother is one of Rynn Cormel's most trusted lieutenants and I can't even give the appearance of impropriety."

Ivy frowned, but I could see that she was slightly mollified by my assessment of the situation.  Not that I didn't have my doubts about Ivy's mother, but she wasn't at the top of my suspect list - at least for the moment.

"Actually I was going to offer the church.  It's not rented at the moment."

Whatever I had been about to say, it died unsaid in my throat.  Ivy was offering me the church.  The closest thing I'd had to a home since I had moved out of my parents' house.  Only Ivy would know how much I wanted to stay there and only Ivy would offer it. 

"Jenks' kids still live there.  They keep the garden up, but no one's living in the church itself right now." 

"I'd love to," I blurted. "I mean, I can even make rent these days."

Ivy shook her head.  "Not necessary.  I've been holding the place in trust for Jenks.  He'd want you to stay there."

I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe.  It happened anytime the subject of Jenks came up. 

"Thanks."

She nodded.  I could see her gaze track across the room. 

"Be careful, Rachel.  I don't want to have to go down to the morgue to identify you."

I shook my head.  Some things never changed, I thought, as Ivy walked away.