Past

*trigger warning: drug overdose*

It had been three months since I saw Sierra, since I watched her walk away from me and not even look back. And fuck if that hadn't hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did. It had only been the third time I had talked with her, but when she left me there, I felt abandoned, which could only be unhealthy for me.

Considering that I was attached to the idea I had made of her.

An idea that I should be scrapping.

I had started this with the idea that she was a terrible person, that she had to be to work for Queen. And then my thoughts shifted, that maybe she was horrible deep down but hid it well after I slept with her, because I still had to justify what I was doing. Then, of course, that second night, followed by the coffee, made my opinion continue to change.

The three months since then I had been fighting for information from any other angle I could find, but the fact of the matter was that I needed someone inside. Someone who was already part of the Court. The only person who came to mind was her, Sierra.

"Fuck." I swore as I ran a hand through my hair, then placing my elbows on my knees as I sat on my leather lounge. Maybe I should call her. Tell her I would explain everything, that I could give her an out from the Court. She would take it. She had to.

I picked up my phone and opened her saved contact, praying that she hadn't changed her number since our last talk.

Okay, this isn't anything out of the ordinary. I just need to call a potential informant to tell her I fucked her to get in her head and steal information from her and put her in danger without ever telling her. She would understand.

Oh yeah, she'll understand... that I'm a fucking asshole and that it's best to keep her distance.

I put my phone back down. This was a bad idea. I would ask too much of her. Far too much. I mean, how would it make me feel if our situations were reversed? Used? Abused would be more accurate.

My thoughts stopped as my phone's ringtone overtook my ears, my eyes flicked to the screen, and I almost laughed. This was ridiculous. I picked up the phone and accepted the call, placing the phone next to my ear.

"Did you know I was thinking of you?" I asked, a smile on my face. "I know I said you could call me at midnight, but I figured-"

"Esmond." Sierra's voice was a ghost of a whisper through the phone. Something was wrong.

"Sierra?" I heard the hint of a laugh from her.

"Why the fuck did I give you my first name?" Again, her voice was barely audible, but followed by more of that breathy laughter. "Why the fuck am I even calling you?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." I responded, standing up and walking to my bedroom to grab a sweatshirt. Something was telling me I needed to move. Now.

"It's sad..." She paused, her breath fanning into the speaker louder than her voice. "You're the person I trust most."

"Sierra, what's going on? Where are you?"

"I've done too much this time." Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

"Where are you? I'm coming to you right now."

"I'm on the floor. I can't move, it's too hard." God damn it.

"I'm coming. We're going to get you to a hospital."

"No, I can't go to the hospital. Queen will kill me. I have naloxone, I just can't..."

"Okay, I'm coming. Just tell me where you are." I said as I grabbed my keys and left my apartment. She told me the address, and I kept her on the phone and speaking to me the entire drive to her apartment on the other side of London. I couldn't let her pass out. The second she passed out, it would be too fucked for me to fix it.

I parked haphazardly on the street and ran into the building, taking the elevator to her floor and kicking in the door. My phone fell to the floor as I only saw her feet through her bedroom door.

"Sierra!" I ran over to her and rolled her onto her side.

"Hey, you came." She said, her eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't think you would..." She paused and the look in her eyes told me I should get away from her face. I stepped over her and held her hair back as she threw up onto the hardwood floor. She tried to sit up, but I could tell she couldn't. Not when she had been on the floor for at least twenty minutes.

Instead of letting her try herself, I lifted her torso.

"Where's the naloxone?" I asked as I lifted her.

"Kitchen, upper cupboard next to the fridge." She said as I put an arm under her torso and her legs to carry her to the bathroom. Forming coherent sentences was a good sign, and the fact she was conscious was also positive. Maybe she hadn't overdone it as badly as she thought.

I put her down on the cold floor next to the toilet and opened the lid. She threw up again not a second after I stood up, her hair in my hand.

"Just stay upright and stay awake." She nodded, her face in the toilet bowl. I took a hair tie from her bathroom counter and tied her hair back before rushing into the kitchen to find the naloxone.

As soon as I did, I ran back to her. She was still. Far too still. "Sierra." No movement. Fuck. No.

"Sierra!" I pulled her head out of the toilet bowl and leant her against the wall. I put my hand in front of her nose and felt no movement. Fuck. Shit. I primed the naloxone nasal spray pump and then administered a dose.

Then I laid her down on the tiled floor and started chest compressions. Two minutes went by without response, so I administered another dose of naloxone and continued with chest compressions.

Sierra gasped for air before she started coughing and I sat her up again so she could throw up into the toilet again. After she threw up some more, her whole body started shaking. I couldn't figure out why until she pushed away from the toilet and put her body against the wall.

She covered her face with her hands.

She was crying.

"Sierra-"

"I... need... help..." She said her sentence through her body wracking sobs. "I... just... died... didn't I?" She took her hands away from her face and staring into my soul. Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with tears, as her skin was blotchy and pale from the overdose.

"You stopped breathing, yes." She dropped her head into her hands again.

"Jake..." She whispered, and I felt like I wasn't meant to hear it, so I ignored it and sat down on the floor in front of her. It took a few minutes, but she calmed herself enough to speak. "Thank you, you don't have to stay with me." Her voice was too quiet.

"I think I do. If you won't go to the hospital, I can't leave you by yourself." She looked at me again, her eyebrows furrowed once more.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sure you have grander plans for your death than leaving this world with your head in the toilet." She stared at me with a blank expression after I spoke. "Too soon?"

"Yes." She said, although there was the faintest of smiles on her face. "You won't leave me? Even though we've only met three times? Months ago?"

"I mean, counting today, it's four."

"Esmond..." And there it was. Her saying my name again. Fuck me, I shouldn't be letting the ecstasy of that reach the base of my spine like I was. A few minutes ago, she was dead.

"No, I won't leave you."