Ramifications: Day 7

Word Count: 42,002

Summary of Events:

Lachlan attempted to get some clues as to the whereabouts of the individual who stole the drugs from him, to no avail. Dom returned to Brisbane and had to tell off a couple of magazine photographers before he got home. Lachlan managed to intercept some of the same type of drug that he'd lost from the gang he'd lost it to, but had it proved to be of inferior quality, forcing him to go out and look for more, but before he could even leave the vicinity building he encountered a fellow gang member of lower rank . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""Do you know of any Club Brisbane Hen transfers?" Lachlan asked.

"If I did I wouldn't tell you," the rider replied.

"Why not?" Lachlan demanded.

"Because I'd want to sabotage them and maybe I'd be considered as special as you are, apparently," the rider spat. "Not that you do anything other than sit on that stupid custom bike while Angie sings your praises for doing nothing."

Lachlan set his jaw and glowered at the rider. "I need that sort of information."

"What?" the rider demanded. "So you can sabotage them and look even more special?"

"I need that sort of information if I want to stay alive," Lachlan replied.

"Oh," the rider said, tipping his head to the side in surprise. "You bungled something."

In spite of the helmet obscuring the rider's face, Lachlan could hear the smile in his voice. He said nothing.

"Won't it be nice to have you gone," the rider said.

"Will it?" Lachlan asked.

"Why wouldn't it be nice?" the rider asked. "After all, you're not special, you're just some random whelp from Sydney."

"You could lose out on a promotion," Lachlan said.

The rider scoffed. "How?"

"If you help me, and help me properly, I could recommend you for a promotion," Lachlan replied. "After all, I have Angelo's ear easier than anyone else in this group. If I say someone did a good job he'll believe me, even if Harrison and them would disagree with me."

"Like you'd actually recommend me for a promotion," the rider scoffed.

"Why wouldn't I?" Lachlan asked. "My life is on the line here, Harrison's threatened it twice already. If you help me in the way I need help I'd owe my life to you, and I'd immediately recommend you for a promotion. It's only if you don't help me that you should be worried."

"Why?" the rider asked.

"I could call up Angelo now," Lachlan said. "Tell him you're the laziest member of this gang I've ever met. I could even say you set up my bungle. Then you'd be dead, and there'd be no more promotions."

The rider was silent.

"I have that kind of power," Lachlan said. "And if you value your life you'd help me."

Still the rider was silent.

Lachlan drew out his mobile.

"What are you doing?" the rider asked.

"Calling Angelo," Lachlan replied.

"You want information on Hen transfers," the rider said.

Lachlan let a bit of a smile show outwardly, and smiled ear to ear inwardly. "Yes."

"I don't know of any currently, but I'll keep my ears open," the rider replied.

"And your name so that I can keep in contact," Lachlan said.

"Justin," the rider replied.

"As soon as you hear of a Club Brisbane Hen transfer, you tell me," Lachlan said.

Justin nodded and slipped in through the back door.

Lachlan smiled as he watched the door close. Success."

Ramifications: Day 6

Word Count: 36,039

Summary of Events:

Dom was finally reintroduced to his mother, who immediately decided that he was going to be staying for a week so that they could have a gala celebration of his return, to his dismay. Lachlan was summoned to Oliver's office only to find out that he'd inadvertently given the package to the wrong person because things hadn't been explained to him thoroughly, and that he was expected to recover the lost product. Dom got reintroduced to his siblings and all of his aunts and uncles, although the introduction was a highly awkward one and he was grateful when they went to their tables while he waited for the moment of his reintroduction to Melbourne society . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Sighing, he stared at the fire until a light knock sounded at the door. He got up and opened the door, closing it behind him silently. The room was even darker now, but all the tables were full of guests whose attention was directed to Father and Mama standing under the glare of some particularly bright lights.

"Velcome everyone," Mama said into the microphone Dom could see was trembling from his distance. "Ve have invited you all here tonight to celebrate one of the most vonderful things that has ever happened. Our youngest son, Dominik, has returned."

A large part of the guests startled, quite taken aback by the revelation. Dom didn't blame them; who expected to hear news ten years after a disappearance that the disappeared person had returned, much less was alive?

Patterson waved Dom forward and he walked toward his parents, skirting around the table at which Zane, Tamara, and Victor were seated, and stepped into the brightness and heat of the lights shining on his parents.

Mama gave Dom a kiss on the cheek and the entire gathered assembly rose to their feet and applauded. Dom felt rather uncomfortable.

Once the applause died down Mama began to speak again: "He is currently the director of a homeless shelter in Brisbane, and ve have a very special gift for him ve vill present now."

Father took the microphone. "As the Executive Directors of the Herczeg-O'Shea Charitable Foundation, we would like to donate one million dollars to the Shelter of Brisbane."

Dom startled and stared at them. Had he really heard right?

Father produced a white, corrugated plastic cheque from somewhere by the wall which was printed up with his parents' charitable foundation logo and had the same thing Father had said aloud written on it in whiteboard marker: one million dollars.

It also called the Shelter the Shelter of Brisbane, which was wrong, but Dom couldn't help but reel: a million dollars. What was the Shelter going to do with a million dollars?

Camera flashes popped and only when Mama elbowed Dom behind the cheque did he finally look up toward the mass he could hardly see for the lights blazing at him from overhead.

"Smile Dominik, for heaven's sake," Father hissed.

Dom looked back down at the cheque again, still completely thunderstruck. Was this why God had put everything together like this? So that he'd get this million dollars now? If so, then what did God want him to do with the money? Surely they wouldn't have a million-dollar need show up at the Shelter tomorrow.

Mama elbowed him again and Dom looked up. The photographers wanted him to smile for a better picture.

Dom tried to smile, but — as much as he was happy — he would've much preferred being able to leave the room and call Bethany at once. He had to tell her about this as soon as he possibly could."

Pronunciations:

Herczeg: hersehg

Ramifications: Day 5

Word Count: 30,011

Summary of Events:

Lachlan received an assignment from one of his superiors to take part in a highly sensitive transfer, which he was rather excited about. Dom arrived in Melbourne and went to see his parents straightaway; he was interrogated by his father, who then sent him away, unconvinced of his identity, leading Dom to call Bethany in despair because he had no money for a hotel room. Bethany called him back awhile later and told him Lois would let him use his return ticket money for a hotel room. Lachlan waited for the contact person with whom he was to make the transfer . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Hearing the sound of a motorcycle, he instinctively whipped around the corner of the bin to make sure his motorcycle was still parked where he'd left it. It was. There was just another motorcycle beside it.

The motorcycle was metallic red, with lots of chrome — just like Angelo's — as well as a black leather seat and saddlebags.

Its rider was wearing standard black leathers and a metallic red helmet. Based on the build, Lachlan could tell the rider was a man, who flashed him the hand signal.

Lachlan flashed his in return and the rider took off his helmet to reveal that, indeed, he looked an awful lot like Lachlan himself: the key differences being his brown eyes and facial decorations of both metal and ink.

Without a word the rider walked up to Lachlan, who deposited the small black plastic bag — wrapped around a clear plastic bag in which the product was contained — into his upturned palm.

Closing his hand over it, the man turned and walked away from Lachlan, who watched as he pocketed the bag inside his coat before putting his helmet back on, swinging astride his bike, and leaving.

Once Lachlan saw his bike drive by in front of the church from his position Lachlan went to his own bike, put his helmet on, and swung astride as well. For being a highly sensitive transfer, it'd gone over quite easily.

Lachlan headed the opposite direction the contact had taken, heading back toward the Black Widow, where he could report that he'd successfully completed the transfer.

Stopped at a red light, Lachlan looked over at a coffee shop to his left and saw the clock on the back wall said two twenty five. He furrowed his brow and pulled out his mobile to see that, indeed, it was only now two twenty five.

Apparently the contact had been early. Lachlan quickly pocketed his mobile and took off as soon as the light turned green. That information probably wouldn't matter to Oliver, what would matter was that the delivery was a success.

Next time, though, Lachlan hoped that he would be able to have a more difficult task to do; although, considering that the Associates didn't seem all that inclined to test him with anything, he had his doubts such a thing would happen for awhile. Considering how easy this was, though, he would definitely be inclined to ask them if he could do something a bit more difficult next time around."

Ramifications: Day 4

Word Count: 24,028

Summary of Events:

Dom drove Lachlan to his and Bethany's house and gave Lachlan a brief tour before going to bed. Lachlan was spending some time at one of the gang nightclubs when the gang boss came for a visit and he, Lachlan, and the man who'd injured Lachlan got into a rather circuitous discussion about a wide variety of topics, mostly revolving around the incident that got Lachlan injured. Dom was doing paperwork when one of the most lavish donors to the Shelter came over to visit with a plane ticket to Melbourne for him that he was highly reluctant to accept . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Even if Lois wouldn't consider the several-hundred-dollar ticket all that much of a loss should Dom throw it out, he would. It would be wasteful to throw out something that expensive. About the only way he could effectively get rid of it without considering it a waste was if he found someone else who needed to go to Melbourne. Who actually needed to go to Melbourne.

He glanced toward the door at the sound of footsteps and soon Bethany appeared in the doorway.

"You're not happy are you Dom?" she asked.

"No," Dom replied, letting the frustration harden his tone. "I'm not."

"It needs to be done," Bethany replied.

"It's not the right time," Dom whispered emphatically.

"Then when is?" Bethany asked. "I wanted you to do this before we got married and here we are nearly three years beyond that and still nothing's happened."

"I'm–" Dom stopped himself and sighed before looking Bethany in the eyes. They looked glassy, like tears were accumulating within, ready to spill over the precipices of her eyelids and roll down her cheeks. "I'm not spiritually ready for it Bethany."

A tear crawled over the edge of her lower left eyelid and started rolling down her face, leaving a shining trail of its journey behind it.

"But I'm going," Dom said with mild disgust. "I gave her my word and told her as God is my witness I'd be on that flight."

Bethany still said nothing.

"It's not going to go well, though, and you can't tell me otherwise," Dom said.

He ran his fingers into his hair from the sides of his head and sighed.

"You don't really understand Bethany," Dom whispered. "I've changed, yes, and I know the truth, but, but that doesn't make it any easier. They still never loved me. They still . . . drove me away."

Bethany sniffled.

"I mean, maybe I am avoiding it," Dom sighed. "But . . . I know God doesn't want people not to try and make things right, and it's important to Him that things be made right as quickly as they can, it's just not there yet. I know they're not getting any younger and that I'd regret it if they died and I hadn't done anything, but it's just . . . excruciatingly difficult."

He looked at Bethany. More tear-trails striped her cheeks. Dom felt horrible.

"I'm not ready to forgive them yet," Dom said.

"Then I'll let you alone and let you get ready to be able to forgive them on Friday," Bethany whispered, her voice clipped, before Dom heard the sound of receding footsteps.

"Bethany," Dom called. "Bethany!"

There was no hesitation or pause in her stride. He listened numbly to the sound of her feet hurrying down the stairs."

Ramifications: Day 3

Word Count: 18,009

Summary of Events:

Lachlan got one positive reply for a place to stay from his contacts, but only for one night, which wasn't what he wanted. Dom's efforts to find a place for Lachlan on his end also proved fruitless, and then the group who was serving supper arrived. Lachlan asked the superior gangsters for advance pay or something, but only ended up losing his temper and getting a bullet in his shoulder. Dom was helping some of the group pack food hampers for handing out to the people they served meals to when Lachlan arrived; Dom directed Lachlan to his office until they were done. After sitting in Dom's office for a long time alone, Dom finally appeared and told Lachlan the results of his efforts to find a place for Lachlan to stay . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

""None of my contacts could take you in either, so my wife and I've decided we'll let you stay with us, free of charge, for however long you need," Dom said. "Even though we don't want money we drafted up a bit of a . . . code of conduct sort of thing, just so you know what kind of things we'd appreciate you did, as a member of our household."

With something of a hesitancy, Dom held out the document to Lachlan.

Lachlan took it and read the neat writing. He wasn't surprised at many of the conditions: no parties, no friends over — it wasn't like he'd want to invite people over to a house that wasn't his. His mess was to stay in his room, he was to be respectful of their sleeping hours — and preferably not blast loud music in general — dispose of all his garbage properly, and all manner of other things he could agree to doing.

Reaching the bottom, he found Dom's signature was already scrawled across the bottom in sweeping, looping cursive that Lachlan could read rather easily, save between the O and the K of Dominik, which dissolved into basically a squiggly line with a couple dots over top of it.

Lachlan took up a pen from the desktop and scrawled his own signature across the bottom. It looked rather short compared to Dom's and the capital letters looked small too, but it wasn't like Lachlan had to sign legally binding documents all that often.

"You can come downstairs if you'd like, we're almost done cleaning up," Dom said.

Lachlan got to his feet, a stab of pain penetrated his shoulder. He needed some more painkillers.

He followed Dom slowly until eventually Dom disappeared. Lachlan stopped in the laundry area, where he'd left his repacked backpack with the grocery bags that his clothes had been neatly folded and placed into by whoever had emptied the dryer.

Drawing out the small glass bottle from one of the side pockets, as well as the syringe body, Lachlan fetched a needle from one of the other pockets, affixed it to the body, and then removed the slender paper sheath that guaranteed the sterility of the needle.

Firmly he thrust the needle into the special opening in the bottle's cap before turning the bottle upside down and drawing out the plunger to fill the syringe until it was halfway full.

He drew the needle out of the bottle's cap and put the bottle away before lightly flicking the syringe to guarantee no air bubbles.

Sliding his right sleeve up to expose some of the fine blue veins that crossed his wrist and even snaked up his forearm, he carefully slid the fine tip of the needle into his skin at the thickest vein, pulling back the plunger a little to guarantee that he was in the vein before slowly depressing the plunger and emptying the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream."

Ramifications: Day 2

Word Count: 12,193

Summary of Events:

Dom arrived at the Shelter and found Lachlan asleep on the doorstep; after waking Lachlan Dom got him some dry clothes to wear and then went to make him a plate of breakfast. Lachlan ate the breakfast and eventually talked to Dom a little bit before Dom left to get him some fuel to top up his motorcycle that Lachlan accepted without paying for somewhat begrudgingly. Dom sat in his office at the Shelter and thought about Lachlan until his wife came to the door . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Dom smiled somewhat wryly. "What is it love?"

"I was just wondering what you learned from the young man you found on the doorstep," Bethany replied. "He certainly left in an awful hurry."

"What do you mean?" Dom asked.

"Well, we were setting up breakfast and all of the sudden he came charging through the kitchen and left," Bethany replied. "You'd been gone all of a couple minutes."

"But he was here when I came back," Dom said. "He was outside, but he was here."

"Oh," Bethany said.

"He's not one who accepts charity willingly, though," Dom said. "So I wouldn't be surprised if he left so as to not associate with our friends who come here for breakfast."

"He tried to pay you for the petrol?" Bethany asked.

"Yes," Dom replied. "I do believe that I somewhat diffused his efforts by telling him that the Shelter operates without a bank account. Besides, it wasn't like he had the money to pay me for it anyways, he'd told me so himself."

"So he'd run out of petrol and had no money to get more was why he was n the doorstep?" Bethany asked.

"Yes," Dom replied. "At least the best I can conjecture. He's currently out looking for a place to stay amongst his contacts. He'll be back to collect his dry clothes sometime today."

"You mean he hasn't anywhere to stay?" Bethany asked.

"Yes," Dom replied. "He doesn't, odd as it is to put it that way."

"Do you think he'll find something among his contacts?" Bethany asked.

"I don't know," Dom replied.

"Should we look among our own, just in case?" Bethany asked.

"I was planning on doing as much myself, yes, love," Dom replied. "If all else fails, though, do you think it would be alright if we took him in, at least until he could find a different place?"

"I don't know," Bethany replied. "What is he like? Did he tell you his name?"

"Yes," Dom replied. "After I told him mine. I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself until he prompted me. His name is Lachlan. He didn't volunteer anything more than that name-wise. He seems to be a lone-wolf sort, who thinks its him against the world."

Bethany shook her head. Dom could tell she felt the same sadness he did at that fact.

"Regardless of what he's like, though, if he's only temporary," Dom said. "It would be fine, no?"

Bethany shifted her jaw. "I guess so. I wouldn't mind knowing a bit more about him, though."

"I'll have to see what I can learn from him when he comes back for the rest of his clothes," Dom replied. "It may not be much, though, love."

"It may not even matter either," Bethany said. "If he finds a place, or if you find somewhere else for him."

Dom nodded. "And I should get on that, too."

"I'll leave you to it then," Bethany said."

Ramifications: Day 1

Word Count: 6,012

Summary of Events:

Lachlan arrived at his apartment to find that he'd been evicted for not paying the rent; in revenge, he set the contents of the nearby garbage dumpster on fire. Finding his gang superiors at their usual haunt, he asked if any of them could host him, but to no avail; efforts to find someone else from his short list of acquaintances in Brisbane was also fruitless, prompting him to wander Brisbane in search of some shelter from the pouring rain until his fuel gauge started to run low, which forced him to seek shelter under a small overhang above a door into a back alley . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Leaning back against the door, he sighed. Weariness overcame him, pulling at his eyelids and bidding him just to lie down and sleep.

His conscious mind resisted, though, wondering if there wasn't some chance that the very door he was leaning against was unlocked.

Valiantly struggling against the sleep that seemed suddenly to have launched all-out war against him, he looked at the door and saw that it was metal, it had a lock on it, and that its hinges evidenced that it was an outward-opening door.

Slow and reluctant, he pulled himself to his feet and moved out of the way of the door — which meant back out into the rain.

Trying the handle, he found that, indeed, it was locked. He wouldn't be able to get inside, into the complete and total shelter that the indoors would provide him.

He moved back under the shelter of the overhang and sank down to the concrete pad that lessened the height of the step from the ground to the door, at least immediately in front of the door.

Shifting his backpack, he put it under his head for a pillow, bundling himself as tightly together as he could with his back to the alley and his face to the door, pulling himself onto the concrete pad as fully as he possibly could.

He could still feel the soft mist of water being thrown upward by the rain striking the wet ground, but at least he was sheltered from the large, close-together droplets that were the rain falling from the sky above.

Even though weariness pulled at him, cold chilled him, prompting him to shiver uncontrollably. If only he owned a raincoat or a blanket, he would be drier or warmer then — or if he owned both of them he would be warmer and drier.

Having neither, though, the thought of having them only made him only feel wet, cold, and miserable.

It seemed now, too, that cold was winning the war over exhaustion, and like he was going to end up remaining awake, even though he was really quite thoroughly tired and ready to have been bedded down several hours ago.

He closed his eyes and shivered involuntarily. Maybe he should've kept going until he'd found a dumpster bin. He'd have been completely sheltered on all sides, and between the garbage providing an insulating layer and his own body heat filling the enclosed space, he might've been able to actually warm up eventually — especially if there was rotting garbage, as the action of rotting always seemed to make things warm.

Slowly the black fingers of sleep pried away at the icy fingers of cold and wound their way into his mind, shutting off switches as they went, slowly pulling him down into the darkness of slumber with a soft and seductive touch that he had no inclinations of resisting."