A/n: Oh my gosh it's been way too long I'm sorry!
First off I need to thank Vi (holmesology) and Talia (castielthepizzaman) for editing bc Sam is out having a life and stuff! And also thank you to everyone reading this now for not giving up on me because it's been so long! thank you so much!
And as always thank you to Anushka (sherlockholmvs) for the prompt!
James didn't really where he was. He wasn't sure if he could find his way back to the cabin, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to stay and listen to Roger talk about Carter. Carter was dead. He had to be.
James had left as soon as Scarlett had taken Damon upstairs. Roger had tried to stop him, but James hadn't listened. All he'd been thinking about was getting away from the stupid cabin; about getting away from Roger.
James had ended up fishing a transporter from his pocket. He knew that he wasn't supposed to use them for personal reasons, but he doubted that one transporter would make a difference since he had several more in his pocket. He'd messed with the settings carelessly before crushing it in his hand, and now, he was in a nearby city. He vaguely recognized his surroundings, and figured that he couldn't be that far from the cabin. He could easily use another transporter to return there, but there was no way he was going back now.
He sighed and looked around. There was a bar at the end of the street. He decided to try his luck there. A large bouncer was standing outside the doors. James flashed him a fake ID and slipped inside without any trouble. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. Thoughts of Roger, Carter, and his parents were all pounding in his head, giving him a headache.
He sipped at the beer, hoping the alcohol would take the edge off the pain in his head. So far it was doing nothing to calm his racing thoughts. His skin practically crawled at the thought of going back to the cabin. James hated the place. It was crawling with memories that he'd spent years trying to forget. Then there was Roger, who he hadn't seen in four years. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't want to think about it. James didn't do feelings. If it wasn't for the little girl, he'd leave and never give the damned place a second thought.
But he had a responsibility to her. Besides his job, he'd promised Meghan that he would help her, and he had to admit, he felt sorry for the kid. She was going to wake up and not have a mum or a dad. James, of all people, knew what that felt like.
He drained the rest of the beer, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. His head was still pounding sickeningly. He was about to order another beer when the door burst open, slamming against the wall, making James wince. A large man with wiry ginger hair and a beard stormed in, turning the few heads in the bar. Something about him set James on edge. His muscles tensed and he tightened his grip on the empty glass bottle in front of him, preparing for the worst.
The man approached the bar, coming to a stop a few feet down from James. He slammed his hand on the counter, making the bartender jump and James' head throb. The other faces in the bar were beginning to pale with fear.
"Hey bitch," he growled. "Lock up. I got an announcement to make, and I don't like interruptions."
For a minute, she looked like she was going to protest, but the man pulled a knife from his belt. The bartender clamped her mouth shut and began tapping at a screen behind the bar. The doors audibly locked, and James felt his years of training begin to kick in. The bar was silent, scared faces all turned towards the man.
"Listen up!" he shouted, stepping lazily into the middle of the bar so that everyone could see him. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. If you do as I say, no one will get hurt. You're going to be quiet and respectful, and you'll do nothing to attract outside attention. Do I make myself clear?"
Everyone nodded.
"I'm sure you've all heard of the Reformers."
A shudder worked its way down James' spine. If this man was part of the Reformers, then he was officially James' responsibility.
He couldn't have one night off?
"We're looking for three very important fugitives." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen and pictures of Meghan, Damon, and Scarlett flashed on every screen in the bar.
"They may be seen with these agents," he continued. James held his breath as pictures of him and Roger flashed across the screens. He tried to keep his head down, but he could see the bartender staring between him and the pictures on the screen in front of her.
"We have a small camp set up in the woods right outside the city limits. It shouldn't be that hard to find us. If you have any information about any of these people, you will come to us and let us know. Withholding information would cause. . . unpleasant consequences."
James' skin was crawling and his muscles were wound tight. He thought he could feel more people in the bar looking at him.
"Do all of you understand?" the man asked, looking around the bar. There was a chorus of murmured yeses and James thought he heard some yes sirs. He just nodded, trying not to draw attention to himself.
The man took time to look at everyone. James held his breath, hoping he wouldn't be noticed.
But of course things didn't work that way for James.
The man's eyes narrowed, and James swore under his breath.
"If anything happens," he whispered to the bartender whose eyes were wide with panic, "get everyone out. This could get ugly." She nodded numbly.
And of course, all hell broke loose.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
