Black Monday

[bedlamsbard]

*pokes story* This isn't going to be cohesive at all, since I seem to be writing it by scene by scene, not necessarily in chronological order, not chapter by chapter like I do with Omerta. I think it's because it's not a mystery, and it's...I don't know, I've already written the middle. So it's sort of expanding out. Once I have everything in the story written, I'll tidy it up into some kind of order.

Anyway, this takes place before the Mac/Stella and after they've been in Chicago for a couple days.



"Hey, Mac, you made the paper," Stella said, carrying a copy of the Chicago Tribune into the room along with a pot of coffee and a plate of donuts.

"Hmmm?" He raised his head from the book he'd bought yesterday.

She brandished the paper at him. "'Son of superior court justice comes home for criminalist convention.' I didn't know your father was -"

Mac snatched the paper from her, face blanching white. "Oh, no," he said, scanning the article. He glanced up at her with wide eyes, something not quite terror catching in them, and Stella felt her fists clench and cold fury color her thoughts. Who hurt my partner?

"Mac?"

He was shaking beneath her hands as she pushed him down onto the bed. "My - my father," he said with difficulty, not looking at her. "He's -"

"Superior Court Justice for the state of Illinois?"

Mac swallowed. "Yes," he said thickly. "Stella, I - I didn't -"

She sat down beside him and caught at his hand, running her thumb over the scarred knuckles. "It's all right, Mac. You don't have to tell me." Although please do, so I can kick whoever's ass it was that hurt you.

He shook his head fiercely. "You know Maclarin Industries?" he asked in a lost little boy's voice.

"Yeah. They produce something like half America's cotton -"

"That's my mother's family," Mac said quickly, and looked away. "My father's -" He swallowed again. "You know Taylor Steel?" he said very quietly. "My uncle - Everett Taylor - he's CEO."

Stella was speechless. Fortune 500 and old Southern money all bound up together, and Mac really hadn't been joking when he said he'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Taylor was a common name, so she hadn't even considered he might be related to the Taylors of Taylor Steel, which was only a little less well known than Boeing and Bill Gates. "Mac -"

"They're not my family," Mac said quickly. "I mean, they are, but they're not - I haven't -" He shook his head furiously. "I left. After I graduated high school."

"For the Marines."

"Yes. They didn't want me to. Taylors and Maclarins don't - they don't -" He let out a burst of bitter laughter. "I was supposed to be a lawyer, like my father, or go into the family business. Either of them. Not be - what I am."

"Mac, I'm sorry," Stella said, turning his face toward her. He looked lost and confused, not the confident Mac Taylor she knew. "I didn't know."

"I never told you," he said softly. "I never told anyone." He dropped his head into his hands and added, voice muffled, "Mother must be having conniptions."

Comments

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

Oh, *Mac*. (yeah, my turn to say it). Short, but so strong, like a gutpunch. You can hear the teeth in what he says. And the fear. And the last line about his mother having conniptions is a killer on its own, so perfect, bitter and the truth.

And Stella. Fuckin' *a*. She holds to him. You can feel that, too, how much she'd give to be able to *get at* whoever hurt him. Even not knowing how he was hurt, or exactly who, you get that inarticulate sense of "mine/brother/partner/friend" that *needs* to protect.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

You know, I seriously fear for the health of the reporter who wrote that article. Because Stella's going to kill him if he ever shows up again. Kill him dead, and hide the body.

Oh, *Mac*. (yeah, my turn to say it). Short, but so strong, like a gutpunch. You can hear the teeth in what he says. And the fear. And the last line about his mother having conniptions is a killer on its own, so perfect, bitter and the truth.

And I'm not even sure Mac knows what he's afraid of, he just is. Because it's his family. Who probably have enough pull (political and social) to filibuster America into the 22nd century. And now that the press have found out that one of the Taylor Steel Taylors is serving as a lunatic common policeman - no matter how uncommon he is - in New York City...well...I'm not sure what the brass will think of that. Because, like you've said. No one out of someone. Only no one actually expected him to be Someone.

Stella rocks. Everyone should have one.

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

Because Stella's going to kill him if he ever shows up again. Kill him dead, and hide the body.
Naturally. He just pulled the journalistic version of staking Mac out on the beach and covering him in fish offal.

And I'm not even sure Mac knows what he's afraid of, he just is. Because it's his family. Who probably have enough pull (political and social) to filibuster America into the 22nd century.
Which makes perfect sense, actually, even without the political pull. His is the kind of family, I get the sense, where even if there is never-- or very, very seldom-- any actual physical expression of violence, there is a *constant* threat of it, the kind of terror that *seeps* into blood and bone so hard that he's going to shake hearing them talk. God help him if they fight at him.

God help them, too, because Stella will kill them, and hide their bodies with the journalist's.

And now that the press have found out that one of the Taylor Steel Taylors is serving as a lunatic common policeman - no matter how uncommon he is - in New York City...well...I'm not sure what the brass will think of that.
Well, you know, everyone has to love the NYPD (I shouldn't be so cynical-- I mean that it's more frowned upon at this point in time to rag on the NYPD than it might have been say, after Amadou Dialo). On the other hand, this is a son of their city who went and abandoned his wealthy heritage. Woo! Watch the scandal. The society pages are going to friggin' combust. As for the NYPD brass, they'd probably be like: "You what? From where? ...how much?"

Stella rocks. Everyone should have one.
Oh, man, that cracks my shit up. :D *hysterical* That's fucking brilliant.

[http://users.livejournal.com/stellaluna_/]

I'll second (third?) the oh, *Mac*. Poor bastard. The silver spoon in his mouth just makes so much sense for him, though, as does the way he's concealed it all these years, and the fact that he's been out of contact with his family since just after high school. And it just...it's acute, and it *hurts*, how quickly even the mention of his family, the sense that his worlds are about to collide, reduces him to a scared child. And Stella's fierce sense of loyalty is, as always, heartfelt, how fast she is to jump to protect him, and to soothe if she can. I'm with you: everyone should have a Stella.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

The silver spoon in his mouth just makes so much sense for him, though, as does the way he's concealed it all these years, and the fact that he's been out of contact with his family since just after high school. And it just...it's acute, and it *hurts*, how quickly even the mention of his family, the sense that his worlds are about to collide, reduces him to a scared child.

He's probably told himself all these lies to try and make himself feel better about leaving, but no matter what he says, he knows the truth. So he bottles it up. And then it hits him all at once, and he can't stand it.

Oh, this is so not going to go well.