Fury

Fury

Chapter Seventeen

It Happened One Day

Cate hurried into work; for the first time since she'd started, she was late. True, a minute and a half wasn't too late, but Mary still wasn't pleased, since today was the day Katelyn had taken off, and there was no one but the two of them to cover the shift. She only worked until five, today; she had a few vague ideas of what she wanted to do tonight, but they were only half-formed, and not yet appealing.

She dashed around like a mad woman, and didn't notice strands of her hair coming out of her ponytail and curling around her face. The air conditioning wasn't working properly; it kicked in and out, so she was alternately freezing and boiling, and the customers weren't too happy, either. She could have fixed it with a quick wave of her wand, but she hadn't used magic at work, yet, and didn't plan to, ever. She barely used it at home anymore.

The regulars- those men who came in every day, ate the same thing, left the same tip, and went to the same, boring job- noticed how busy the two women were, and were quieter, and certainly less flirty. Cate normally smiled at them a lot; it made for larger tips. Today, however, she was in no mood. Even the unflappable Mary was peeved; their cook, Steve, had the day off as well, and the backup cook was burning everything. Lunch couldn't come soon enough.

Mary gave her a break as soon as the morning rush was over, and a look that said if she wasn't back in fifteen minutes, she would regret it. She went into the break room, grabbed her bottle of water, and drank until it was nearly gone. She put her head on the table and waited. She would go to the bathroom right before her break was done, but for now, she just wanted to close her eyes and breathe.

She and Muirgan had gone to a movie the previous weekend, and the main character had been a waitress. She'd always looked clean and put together, and had never had a moment of stress in her job. Cate had laughed bitterly under her breath.

Mary came in right at the fifteen minute mark, and Cate was ready to go. She smiled cheerfully at Mary, neither caring that it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She bustled around tables, as always annoyed by the fact that the skirt felt too short, and she had never liked her knees- they were knobby things, and didn't suit the rest of her legs. George had liked them, though.

She shoved that thought firmly back in place as she put a platter of pancakes and bacon in front of an elderly man who came in every day at this time, sat in the same seat, and ordered the same thing. She rushed back to the counter when he tapped the side of his coffee mug, grunting a request for a refill. There were only a handful of customers left, all regulars, and now all were eating, though she'd probably have to get Mr. McGrady his bill soon.

The bell over the door jingled as three plant workers came in, followed by two scrawny boys that appeared to be skipping school. She glanced over at the break room, but Mary was outside, smoking a cigarette. She grabbed her pad off the counter by the cash register and helped seat the plant workers, then the boys, who wanted a booth in the back of the room. The plant workers lined the counter, and seemed to take up twice as much space as normal men. She took their orders, and then gave the two teenagers waters until they could cobble together enough money for something to eat.

She had just given Mr. McGrady his bill when the bell jingled again. Sighing- Mary was still outside smoking, and it was long past her fifteen minutes- she turned to help the customer and froze.

It was George, looking as magnificent as she had remembered. He was dressed in Muggle clothes- a loose t-shirt in vibrant red with a dragon on the front and a pair of jeans- and his hair was shorter than she remembered, showing his mangled ear. He was gorgeous.

She couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the floor, and her hand hung limp at her sides. She was suddenly embarrassed by the turquoise and pink of her uniform, and she could see tendrils of hair coming loose around her face. She wanted so badly to sink into the floor.

"Hey, Cate."

She stared at him, her mouth moving. Mary hustled into the front, a cloud of smoke hanging off of her, tying her apron on and poking Cate in the shoulder. "Get a move on, sweetheart. Seat him and take his order. We haven't got all day."

Cate took a tentative step forward, then another. "How?"

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets, ignoring the stares of the other customers. "Friends in high places and all that. Aren't you glad to see me?"

She didn't answer. She took a running leap and jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. He was real. She felt tears sliding down her cheeks, and suddenly she was kissing him, hungry for his mouth. He seemed no less happy to see her, she noted; his mouth found hers just as quickly.

There were whoops and cheers from the customers, and Cate suddenly pulled back, embarrassed. Mary stood there, mouth hanging open and a grin on her face. "You know him, sweetheart, or you just being friendly?"

Everyone laughed appreciatively. Mary jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and Cate grabbed George's hand and dragged him into the break room. It didn't matter anymore that less than an hour ago she had felt like her life was at a standstill; it didn't matter that he wasn't supposed to have found her. He was here.

She kissed him again, a little less urgently, and felt his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. She broke for air a moment later, panting, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I missed you," he said, a grin in his voice. "And from that welcome, you missed me."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Of course I did, idiot."

He was smirking. "Let's see if I can go back to being clever." He leaned down and kissed her again. Another breathless moment passed, and she stood with her eyes closed, smiling. "Am I clever yet?"

She nodded, speechless. "But you shouldn't be here," she said, pushing him away. "I left to...I left for a reason."

George raised an eyebrow. "Would that reason include threats against me? Because Harry told me about those, and I still don't understand your logic. I'm a grown man, Cate, and I can protect myself. And I can protect you, too."

Cate rolled her eyes. "I would agree, except they attacked you and you couldn't defend yourself. This way, I was sure they wouldn't come after you."

He frowned. "But..."

She held up a hand, taking another step back. "No. I could be miserable here as long as I knew you were safe. I'll have to go somewhere else, where they can't find me."

George shook his head. "You're not leaving me again," he said vehemently, his voice shaking with anger.

Cate wouldn't look at him. "I'll do what I must," she said quietly, staring at the filthy floor.

George put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. "Do you really want to know how I found you?" he asked, his eyes like fire. "They sent me an owl with your picture, working here, in this very café. There wasn't anything written on it, and Harry couldn't find out who took it, because it was a Muggle picture, but they know right where you are, Cate, and I'd be surprised if they haven't known for a while."

She could feel tears sliding down her cheeks as she stared at the image. "But I was so careful..."

There was a shout outside in the dining room, and a crash of plates. Cate frowned and reached for the doorknob, but a shot rang out. She immediately sank to the ground, staring wild-eyed at George. "That was a gun," she whispered, terrified. She reached into her apron before she growled a curse. "I don't have my wand."

George pulled his out of his back pocket. "What's going on out there? Can you see?"

Cate pushed the door open a crack and looked out. Her view was mostly blocked by the counter, but she could see smashed plates on the ground, full of food, and hear something near the doorway. The cook was on the ground, whimpering and holding his shoulder. She couldn't get to him, and she didn't see anyone standing near the counter.

"Get the money, bitch!"

The command came from near the cash register, and she saw Mary's shoes, followed by Mary and a man in black wearing a mask, holding a gun to Mary's head.

"Where's the other one?" another voice called out from the other side of the room, and she heard the sounds of the blinds dropping onto the window ledge. The room was suddenly darker.

The man with the gun to Mary's head pushed, and Mary shrieked. "Did you hear him, bitch? Where's the other waitress?"

Mary's eyes darted to the door, and Cate felt her breath catch in her throat. "George, hide. They're coming."

"Then get over here and I'll hide us both," he whispered harshly, holding out his hand.

She shook her head. "They know I'm here. Just...hide yourself. I'll be fine." She gave him a weak smile. "Trust me?"

His gave her a silent snarl, and, with a wave of his wand, disappeared. She could just make him out if she tried, but only because she knew where he was.

The door was kicked open, and rebounded off of her shoulder. She cried out wordlessly as she was pulled bodily to her feet by the hair. She could see the outline of George take a step towards her, but she just shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks from the rough treatment.

The man dragged her out into the dining area and flung her to the floor. "Found her," he growled, his voice low and rough.

The other man holding Mary grunted. "Watch her. I'll get the money. We gotta be outta here fast."

Mary was panting, her face white and lips pinched. Cate felt a surge of pity and, before she knew what was happening, said, "Can't you just let her go? She's going to pass out if you keep pushing her."

The man standing above her backhanded her, hard. "Shut up, bitch," he said without rancor, ignoring her.

Mary opened the cash register with shaking fingers. Cate took the opportunity to look around. The customers were all huddled on the floor against the wall; two of the factory workers appeared unconscious, and one was holding a bloody hand to his leg and groaning. She saw another man dressed in black standing by the door, a shotgun in his hands. He glanced at her, appraised her quickly, and turned back to the street.

There was a ding as the cash register opened, and Mary was flung to the ground next to her, sobbing. Cate gathered the older woman into her arms and held her, her eyes never leaving the men with guns. They emptied the cash into a small bag, and the man standing above her tossed it to the guy by the door, who put it behind his back, under a vest.

There was the distant sound of sirens, and one of the men cursed. "They must have an alarm or something."

The man above her growled. "Or the bitch called from the back." He looked down at her, his eyes dark and angry. "Did you call the cops, bitch?"

Cate shook her head. "N...no," she said, hating the stutter in her voice. She'd faced Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake, and these were only petty thugs with guns. She'd seen worse. She'd been through worse.

Ah, the little voice in her head said, but you had your wand then. The little voice sounded like her mother, and she nearly snarled at it to shut up.

The man by the door interrupted her self-pity. "Doesn't matter now. They're here. Stick to the plan."

The man standing above them grabbed Cate's arm and jerked her to her feet and the man by the door sighed. "Put her in front of me, then move back."

Cate glanced at the door to the break room, where she could see George's silhouette.

She froze when she felt the cold metal press against the side of her neck. She stiffened instinctively, and the man took advantage of it, pressing her against the door and calling out to the tense crowd, "I'm coming out! Don't shoot or the bitch dies!"

She was shoved through the door, catching the flash of movement near the break room that signaled that George was moving. Before she could say anything, she was through the door, though only a few steps, and the gunman pressed against her, completely shielded. She didn't hear what he was yelling at the police, only the sound of blood pounding in her ears. Her knees were shaking, and her hands were locked around the edges of her skirt in a death-grip. Her eyes darted around wildly, catching all of the activity around her.

Through the shouting and cursing, from both sides, she could hear echoing sobs as Mary was pushed against one of the windows, a gun to her head; one of the young boys was next to her in a similar position.

And, as quickly as anything had ever happened in her life, the man behind her began to shout, digging the gun into the side of her neck and pushing her forward slightly, away from the building.

She nearly screamed when he yanked her back, pulling her tight against his body and backing slowly towards the building. The door opened behind him, and he rushed in, shoving her forward. She stumbled, barely avoiding falling, and pulled herself up. Just before he shut the door, he caught her eye and winked. She felt the blood drain from her face, and turned to the police.

"Yo, bitch!" he called, his voice amused. "I got a message for you!"

The police were urging her forward, and she could see long guns trained on the windows behind her. She took a halting step forward, ignoring the taunting voice, the little voice saying George would be fine, they didn't know he was there, and he'd want her to get away...

"I said I got a message for you bitch!" She turned her head slightly, catching him out of the corner of her eye. He leveled the gun at her, and she froze, seeing something in his sleeve, something impossible.

He grinned behind his mask. "Bad dog."

Her eyes widened.

The bullet ripped through her stomach.

And the three gunmen dressed in black Apparated away.