Private Finished Maybe, Someday, They'll Sing Our Praises

Shay hadn't worn her male glamour in a very long time, which made it perfect for what she had planned. She didn't feel like a boy, even when she wore it, but right after Nick, it had been nice not being in a girl's body all the time.

Now, she used it as a way to spy on one of Klaus' old rivals. Which he claimed never to have, but being honest, every influential person had them. Shay wasn't sure why she was doing it. Angelo had given her an out, but here she was, obsessed.

But that obsession – no, that hatred – was only the beginning of a lifetime worth of problems. It wasn't Klaus' fault. It wasn't anyone but Shay's.



The burner phone Fitz kept on him was ringing. If he didn't answer it the first time, it'd start up again. Shay felt sick.

Lights blinked around her, illuminating the night. Coloring the pool of red in the alleyway tints of green and orange. Shay's clothing felt heavy and moist. The umbrella was leaned against the wall beside her.

"Fitz?" she said when he'd picked up. "I need you to come down to the Strip," she rattled off a nearby address next. "Bring fresh clothing. And my knife. You know the one. In my bedside drawer. Hurry please."

She didn't sound urgent though. Shay sounded robotically calm. When she hung up the phone and stared at the body of the Demon man before her, she didn't feel much or anything.

His head was caved in, and bruises littered his chest, arms, abdomen, and back.

She sat down beside her umbrella, staring at it. She hadn't planned on killing anyone. She could say that she could even believe it herself, but the umbrella had come to her hand anyway. Was that subconscious intent?

Colors kept flashing and hueing the blood in the alley, hueing her and his bodies.

From somewhere that felt so far away, casino and nightclub music played.

Shay felt a little better when she heard Fitz's voice, but not by a lot.

"Yes," she said quietly, only loud enough for him to know where she was.

The scene he'd come onto was something of horror. It wasn't as gory as most movies would have you believe, but it was well enough. Shay had already wiped her umbrella down on a clean section of her clothing.

Her mind was working a mile a minute. She'd have to tell Fitz how she got here later, but for right now, they had a dead body to worry about. An entire crime scene.

Could they cover this up? Was she about to make Fitz fall with her? Could she live with herself if she'd managed to get away with this terrible secret?

She stood when Fitz got closer, seeming pale and distant. "I got afraid," was all she said before reaching out to take the silver knife.

"We have to – This can't lead... back."

She had been thinking about it while Fitz was on his way. "CAE has been more active again lately. He was a Demon. Don't worry. No immortality. He had a falling out."

Shay rose her hands a little and stepped away from Fitz when he spoke. She couldn't tell if it was worry or anger. Or both. She stayed back and watched him before calling Theo and speaking to him in hushed words only the two of them knew. Something that sounded like a casual conversation.

When she was done with that, she hung up and looked up to see Fitz spraying painted symbols on the walls of the alley. It wasn't uncommon at all for Shay to be wearing gloves herself. Leather, usually. But rarely fabric or fur based because she hated the way it came off on her clothing.

A little hesitantly at first, she approached the body and cleaned out the underneath of his fingernails and worked on the finer details of removing her presence from the scene.

Shay closed her eyes and imagined what an organized group of haters would do before basing her next few moves off old KKK members and the like. When she was satisfied, she backed away again.



The ride home was quiet, and it gave Shay far too much time to think. She didn't take off her glamour until her and Fitz had been dropped off and had the chance to walk home. Once she was out of prying eyes, but long before either of them got home.

They'd stopped somewhere private to burn her old clothing, the gloves, and anything else that might have tied them back. Shay didn't talk then either.

Only once they were safely back home, and Shay had lit up a joint and taken a long drag of it did she relax and gain a little emotion on her face again. She wanted to tell him, sorry, but she wasn't. She'd have done it again, so she couldn't give him that bullshit.

Instead, Shay took another drag of the joint. It was the good kind of weed. The stuff that gave you chill rather than making you paranoid.

For once, Shay didn't have anything to say and she wasn't brave enough for words.

"I'm not going to jail," Shay snapped back. The smoking gave her something to do so her hands didn't shake. She felt hot and sick, and the sweat stung a cut on the back of her head that was hidden by her hair.

She calmed herself down before saying anything again. "And I don't want to back out on you..." which was the truth, but it hurt that he'd think she'd go to such lengths to do that.

Derry was very obviously angry with her and Shay could understand that, but any logical step that it would have taken to diffuse the situation felt far out of her reach when she couldn't move or speak.

"It was stupid," she said mildly. "I know. It was really fuckin' stupid, but we'll be fine." It was hard to say we'll because was there a 'them' now?

Should she have called Fitz or anyone? Could you trust another person with a burden like that? It was one of those things you do on your own. A sin you carry yourself.

"I'm not going to jail," she reiterated. "No one is going to jail."

Shay hated the quiet anger more than the loud anger. It was the kind of thing that had bad things happen. Like hitting or grabbing.

Or murder. said something small in the back of her head. It wasn't her thought, but she shook it off for now.

She couldn't control her shaking now, and she wanted desperately to back away from Derry, but she couldn't. She was already against a wall. She exhaled unsteadily and turned her face away from him, sitting on her hands to steady their trembling.

"I just wanted... to remember. That place." Which felt like nearly as big a confession as murdering someone. "He was the new gang leader of the guy Klaus was torturing. Because of Nick."

Trying to find her voice was painful, she sang in a mantra about the things she needed to say and nagging in the back of her head grew louder.

"Gang leaders aren't forgiving people." Her gaze drifted to his hands briefly, and Shay inched a little to the side, and a little more so she didn't feel so trapped. "Still. It wasn't self-defense. I could have... probably gotten away after the stab."

Oh God. She'd killed someone. And they weren't coming back; she was pretty damn sure. Not with a holy knife now embedded in their fucking chest.

She just had to focus on her breathing. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.