Work Text:
She'd warned me before I picked her up. She gave me clear instructions. I was to maintain control, show no emotion, and do my job. Just like always. Normally that’s not a problem. I have a lot of experience.
I still wasn’t prepared for the pleading tone in her voice, the way it quivered as she fought back tears. She was so vulnerable. Didn’t seem to care that if she left herself exposed like that the world would take advantage of it.
Maybe I’ve been doing this for too long.
She was always kind to me. Asked how I was. Thanked me. That she could think I wouldn’t remember her surprised me. Clara – no. Rose, not Clara, Rose, I can’t believe I still mess that up. Rose did say once that Luisa didn’t see how special she was. It was a slip. I don’t think she even knew I was in the room when she said it.
She made her happy, Luisa did. That was something Rose never had, not back when she was Clara, not even once Ms. Di Nola was out of the picture. When that woman stopped holding her back from feeling anything, Rose kept up the job all on her own. She never had a chance.
She was a sweet kid. Definitely had a temper, maybe a little manipulative, a bit dramatic, but with a good set of folks she probably would have been okay. Maybe even just if her pops hadn’t died. He was a decent guy, shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with Ms. Di Nola. It’s what killed him in the end. I wonder sometimes if Rose knows that. She’s not stupid.
Sometimes I think people might wonder why I’ve stuck around so long. It’s not like driving jobs are hard to come by. Probably couldn’t explain it if I tried.
It’s just I’ve known the kid too long to give up on her now. I know she’s not a good person. She maybe could have been but she isn’t anymore. But I’m in this until the bitter end. Whatever that might be.
Luisa, though, she made Rose feel something. It was nice to see. Even when she made her feel miserable or angry or vengeful, it was nice to see her feeling anything at all.
She doesn’t let people see her. But I see her. I’ve known her too long.
And so does Luisa.
I think that’s why she can’t let go. I see her in the rear view mirror when she thinks I’m not looking. That’s when the cracks show. She’s broken, but she won’t admit it. The world broke her before she had a chance to learn how to fight back.
I watched her build those walls, but I also watched Luisa tear them down.
She knew what she was doing when she killed that girl’s father. She knew that she was forcing her hand, doing the one thing that Luisa would probably never forgive her for. She wanted it that way.
I think she was wrong though. I think Luisa might forgive Rose anything if it meant they had each other in the end.
It’s not good for them, this thing they do. Either of them. It’s painful. It’s ruined them. But it’s real. And I think that’s more than Luisa ever had. I know it’s more than Rose did.
You know, I watched her wrestle with her pride, over and over, year after year. She could have thrown the plan out the window, gone on the run, taken Luisa with her, found somewhere to build a life, but that’s not who she is. Or, at least, it’s not who she wants people to think she is.
She was wearing a mask long before she put on that prosthetic horror.
But still she puts it on, with that blonde wig, and she watches Luisa share their most private moments with the people whose job it is to capture her alive. And kill her if they can’t. She relives those moments with her without being able to react. She watches Luisa confess again and again how much she wanted her. It’s tearing her apart; I know it is.
I didn’t see her face when Luisa said that she loved her. I don’t know how she didn’t crack then, but she’s always been stronger than most people give her credit for. I guess she's had to be. Mostly it works in her favor.
I saw her after though. I saw the way she collapsed into the backseat of this exact same car and tore the mask off her face. I saw the way she dropped her head to her hands and curled into herself like a kid. I saw her dig her nails into her arms the way she used to when Ms. Di Nola would come at her. When she couldn’t respond. When she had to hide her emotions. When she couldn’t cry.
She didn’t cry.
She broke the skin on her arms, but she didn’t cry. She bit her lip so hard that it bled, but she didn’t cry.
She doesn’t cry anymore. Not for a long time.
Then she said to me, “Joey.”
She said, “Joey, I have to let her go.”
Then she put her mask back on. And then she put the real mask back on. And she had me take her to the Marbella. She’s in there now, letting her go. Maybe. Maybe she’ll come rushing back out here holding Luisa’s hand. Tearing off her masks for good this time. But I wouldn’t count on it.
She told me not to show any emotion. I didn’t. I did my job. Like I always do.
She doesn’t need my protection. Not now. She’s grown. She’s too stubborn to let anyone else take on anything for her.
There was a time though. Years ago. Maybe she could have been saved.
I think about it sometimes.
I just wish that I’d protected her when she really needed it.