The End Justifies

He had to grind his teeth to stop more curses. He reached out, arm sliding around her back and under her knees and he lifted her as easily as if she were a doll. He held her close, jaw working as he struggled with the anger still coursing through his veins.


His jeep wasn't far. He managed to open the door despite having her in his arms and he placed her carefully in the passenger seat. Maybe he should be calling Kyle, but he didn't feel particularly inclined.


"Hospital?" He asked as he moved to buckle her in. "Or home?" He would do what she asked, even if he wanted to take her to the hospital more than anything.

Carted off her feet, it took everything in Olivia not to protest violently. She hated it, this weakness, but if it did the trick then she'd have to suck it up. In her mind she reminded herself of her mission, of he final outcome and it made the abject humiliation of being toted around like a ragdoll all the more easy.


Inside the jeep, she answered him a little more sharply than she mean to, "Home!" and curled up against the seat, twisting to look out the window. Irrationally, perhaps, she was angry with him. If he had just done what he was supposed to, instead of trying to be gallant, loyal friend, she wouldn't have needed to go this particular route.


It was just like a Blaithe to develop morality when it was least useful...

Dillan presumed her short answer was due to the pain, and the fear. He drove in silence, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. The pain kicked in outside her house and he didn't think he'd be able to carry her again. He parked and turned to look at her, "Can you walk?" He asked quietly.


He wasn't leaving her alone, not until he'd had a chance to examine her ankle properly.


And then... he was going to give Kyle a call.

It was easy to be frustrated, bu as they neared her place it became clearer by the minute how well the plan had actually worked. Whether or not he was enamored of her, he wasn't going anywhere. And his anger at Kyle would undoubtedly work to Olivia's advantage in her subtle seduction. She only needed to be cautious... to play him the right way.


Unhooking her shoe and carefully slipping it off, she opened the door and she slipped out, wordlessly. Putting weight down was impossible, but she managed a half-decent limp to the front door, pulling her keys out of her purse and pushing it open. She leaned against the door with a small wince, waiting for him to go in before she followed, closing the door behind her.


Inside, she hobbled to the nearest couch and dropped down onto it, burrowing her face in her hands.

Dillan did not ask permission. He raided her kitchen, finding a bag of frozen peas and a dish towel which he carried into the sitting area where she had collapsed. He crouched in front of her, very, very carefully taking her by the calf and raising her leg so he could examine the injury. "Sorry," he murmured, as he tried to move the ankle.


Once he was satisfied it was just a sprain, he used the towel to wrap the ankle with frozen peas. He knew the cold would help. He held her ankle up, even after the peas are attached, his hand lightly stroking her calf - to offer comfort. It was an entirely unconscious gesture and he would have done it for anyone, male or female.


He looked up then, finally.


But he didn't know what to say. He wished he could hold her, comfort her properly but she still wasn't his girlfriend and this wasn't the appropriate time.

He was attentive, and she let him be. The ice felt magnificent against the swelling ankle, and if she was honest, she could even appreciate the gentle ministration of her calf, surprised really, that someone who could almost incoherently pound another man to the pavement was capable of such a tender touch.


Leaning her head back, she let her eyes fall closed, finally breaking the silence with a shaky, uncertain voice, "...What is wrong with me, Dillan? I don't get it. I don't. I... I just wanted him to come to dinner. He couldn't even do that. He was an hour late, and he couldn't wait more than twenty minutes before answering his phone. What am I doing wrong?"

Dillan winced. The last thing he wanted was to encourage her to be angry at Kyle but he didn't want to encourage her to stay in a relationship where she wasn't being treated well either. This was the epitome of being between a rock and a hard place. He shifted his own stance, wincing as he moved into a more comfortable position.


"He has his work," he said quietly, "maybe he doesn't realize how much he's neglecting you? Whatever the case may be, you need to talk to him. To tell him how you're feeling..."


He'd watched her wait for Kyle, watched their interactions once Kyle arrived and it hadn't been good. He wasn't sure what could be more important than catering to a girl like this but- tea, Dillan. Don't forget about tea.


Still, he had a hard time believing she was really 'like that'. Had he maybe just misunderstood? Had she not realized the implications of inviting a man into her home late at night, after spending so much time with him to begin with?


Dillan had never met anyone innocent enough to not understand but, it was possible.


His hand slid further up her calf, gently massaging under her knee. He knew he should stop, but he was struggling to find control.

"I just don't know, anymore. I feel like I'm the only one fighting for this thing to work, anymore. I've been with him for six months, and things were good... things were great, but now? It's like we're going backwards. And I keep thinking, who works that much? You know? I mean... he's in real estate. It's not like he's a CEO. What if... what if he's seeing someone else?"


A tear slipped down the side of her cheek as she turned her head away, "Not that I'd be surprised. God... It's like I'm some kind of magnet for crap relationships."

She was killing him, literally killing him. His hand slid down so both his hands were supporting her ankle.


"Sorry," he said quietly, "I'm not very good at this comforting thing."


He had no idea what to say, how to make her feel better.


He hesitated, an offer on the tip of his tongue that he knew probably wasn't appropriate. He waged a silent mental battle before saying, "Do you want me to stay? Tonight?"


And now it was his turn to make the totally inappropriate offers but he didn't mean it in an inappropriate way. He just meant that he would be here, to make her feel safe... maybe. He hoped he could make her feel safe at least. And maybe she wouldn't feel so alone.

Straightening, she met his gaze and smiled, albeit sadly, "...You're here, Dillan. Whether or not you're any good at it... you're a whole hell of a lot better than Kyle."


He continued and she dropped her eyes to where his hands had come to rest on her ankle. It was risky. She couldn't be too eager, but turning him away might also give him the wrong impression, too. She had to allow for just the right amount of hesitancy, the right amount of uncertainty, before she answered. Biting her lip, she met his eyes again and nodded.


"Would you? I... I know it's stupid. I know that guy is miles away, and after how you pounded on him, he's probably gonna think twice about going after anyone again, but I'm scared, Dillan. I'm... I'm terrified, and I really, really don't want to be alone."

He leaned forward, grabbing a nearby foot stool and pulling it over. He propped her foot up and finally let go. His hands felt empty without her weight in them, but he pushed away the feeling and got to his feet.


Now, with his hands finally free, he wandered off, disappearing in her kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with warm tea. He'd used the microwave to heat the water, it was just quicker. He remembered the tea she'd chosen a few days ago when he and his mother darkened her door and he settled the cup on the end table at her side. He found a small throw nearby and lay it over her legs.


"Right, so," he then grabbed a chair and dragged it across the room until he was seated to the side and a little in front of her so they could watch each other, "girls night it is."


And with that he smiled, finally overcoming the last of his anger and adrenaline.


"Let's make a promise," he said, "from this moment on no more talk of your loser boyfriend and my loser best friend. No talk of -" he paused, nearly biting his tongue to stop himself from saying the word he was thinking of, "street rats. From this moment on we're both going to have a damned good night. Agreed?"


And he held out his hand, pinkie finger extended - clearly for a pinkie swear.


He didn't know how to comfort, but he knew how to distract.

"Guess it's not all a total loss. I did get you to come over for tea, again." Nestled in, she held the cup, smiling at him over the rim. His attentiveness was borderline endearing. It was shame, really, that he needed to play such a role in her takedown of his family, but it was what it was, and she couldn't alter her plans, now. Really, she should have been pleased by the turn of events, and in a way, she supposed she was.


Looking to the pinkie, she removed one hand from the cup and with a soft laugh, hooked her pinkie with his own, "Promise. Though if your idea of a good time involves dancing of any kind, I'm afraid I'm not gonna be much fun. Honestly, though, I could do for some distraction, so consider me at your mercy, Mr. Blaithe."

They spent the night talking, mostly. Dillan told her stories about his childhood, the PG stories that didn't include the more objectionable parts of his life. He told her about the time he and Kyle robbed a bank, the 'pearl harbor' fiasco and other such shenanigans. They were rich kids with the world at their fingertips and they'd had to be creative to keep themselves entertained and amused.


Eventually he ran out of stories and he helped her relocate to the media room so they could watch movies.


He catered to her every need, bringing her drinks, food, refusing to let her move unless it was for bathroom breaks and even then he insisted on helping her by offering himself as a crutch.


As before, just like that first day, time rushed by. He laughed more than he had in years. And he knew, with a sickening turn of his stomach, in the quiet moments as they watched the film, that he was falling for this girl.


Later, much, much later he fell asleep on the couch, his head sliding over until it rested lightly on her shoulder. If he'd been awake he would have pulled away but in sleep he instead turned into the warmth.

It was easy, falling into a conversation with him. He talked freely enough, when there wasn't a risk of her finding out about any of the damaging things he'd done in the past, and she'd come up with enough cover stories to entertain him when he'd run out of things to say. Eventually, he'd suggested a movie and she agreed, letting him lead her to the small sitting room where she'd kept her television.


She had him. She had him right where she needed him, and ultimately, it was a glorious feeling. When he'd fallen asleep beside her, she'd let him, and while she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable, it was easy to pretend. By morning, she'd found herself curled up on his lap, draped in his arms.


When the doorbell rang, she didn't shift, didn't move. Killian would never come over without calling, and the only other people she knew were Kyle and Dillan's mother. Either one, discovering him there, in so precarious a position... It was another fortunate accident. A catalyst which would inevitably serve her greater purpose, magnificently.

Dillan heard the bell, it pulled him out of a deep, comfortable rest. He shifted, rubbing at his face as his brain registered the girl in his lap, and the source of the noise. He was torn between wanting to stay here, and needing to get away. In the end the need to be a better person won, and he gently detangled himself from her and made his way to the front door. He was limping hard, yesterday's activities and no advil meant his leg was pissed. It didn't matter, he was in too much turmoil internally to care about a little physical discomfort.


He had no idea who would be visiting her but he opened the door, not giving a second thought to his rumbled clothes, wild hair and sleep filled eyes... until he saw who was on the doorstep.


Fuck me.

Kyle's expression was two fold - shock, initially and a little bit of confusion, and then anger. Pure and unadulterated anger. From her position on the couch, feigning sleep, she could see reality crashing on her "boyfriend" and it took everything within her not to smirk at the devastation that took over his visage.


"I'd though we'd moved past this, you son of a bitch..." He growled, and his fists tightened into knots, his knuckles white, "But I guess you're just up to the same old games, stealing my girl behind my back. You give me one good reason why I don't pound you to a pulp right now!"

"Woah, woah," Dillan held up his hands, "I'm not stealing your girl, Kyle. Look, she had a rough night, she was mugged last night and she was scared so I stayed. Maybe if you hadn't been fighting with her she would have called you over but you were probably too busy, hey Kyle?"


He stepped back even as he spoke because he had no desire to beat the shit out of his former best friend but he would and could if Kyle made a move.


"Look for yourself! Her ankle is swollen! Go look! I'm not lying."


Although it might be somewhat satisfying to beat the crap out of Kyle... it would make him feel better about the whole falling in love with kyle's girl but he knew later he'd regret it.

Kyle's expression remained stony, and he none-too-gently shoved past Dillan to get to the couch, but kneeling in front of her, his face softened and he reached out, brushing the hair from her face. Slowly, with a quiet sigh, Olivia opened her eyes.


"Ky?" She asked, sleep clinging to the syllable.


"Hey, baby. I... I heard what happened. Are you okay? Did... nothing happened, right? I mean... you're alright?"


Shifting, Olivia moved to sit up, her eyes briefly moving past Kyle to Dillan, before returning to her boyfriend, "...I'm fine. Dillan showed up before anything happened. I just... I fell, and, well, I think it's just sprained. But I was scared, so... so I asked Dillan to stay. I'm sorry. I would have called, but I was still..."


"No. No, babe. Hey, listen." Pulling himself off his knees, Kyle sank onto the couch beside her, tugging her against his chest, "I should've been there. I should've followed you. It's just, work has been hell and I've been so stressed. But that's no excuse. It never should've happened."


"It's okay."


"No it's not. It's not right, how I've been treating you. And today, I'm gonna make it up to you. I'm here for you, all day. Whatever you need, yeah?"


Pulling away, she looked at him and smiled, "Really?"


"...All day."


"Oh, Kyle..." And gently, she kissed him, unsurprised when he yanked her closer, deeper into the embrace. Bravado. And she knew without looking that Dillan was still standing there, watching.


Pulling away, she rested her hand on his cheek and smiled, "Just let me say thanks?"


"Sure thing. I'll go make us some coffee." He rose and slipped from the room, and gingerly, Olivia got to her feet, limping forward a few steps, "So... I guess I owe you, pretty big, hmm?"

Dillan's hands clenched into tight fists as Kyle pulled her into a hug. He was torn between wanting to rip Kyle away, and wanting to run. It would be weird if he left now though, really weird. He couldn't bear to watch as they kissed. Gods, his thought he might puke.


When Kyle left, without even a glance his way, Olivia hobbled a few steps toward him and he stiffened, his body screaming at him to grab her, his head telling him not to and his heart... well, his heart aching.


He forced a smile, "I should go," he said quietly.


He was pretty sure Kyle wouldn't want him around. Not with their history, not after tonight. He glanced down at her ankle, "Guess we're matching now, huh?"


He shook his head. It didn't matter. What the hell was he thinking? He moved to the door to slip on his shoes, "Tell Kyle I had to go." Tell him to take better care of you.

She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something, but the moment passed and instead, she only nodded with a small, polite smile, "Thanks for everything. I'll let him know. Take care of yourself, Dillan."


As he turned to walk away, she bit back a grin. So close... she was so close. That bit of knowledge, that bit of clarity was more than enough to get her through the day with Kyle. As it turned out, he was capable of being attentive, almost to the point of obnoxiousness. He took the remainder of the week off, and waited on her hand and foot, and for a time she wondered if he wasn't going to be so helpful in her endeavor after all. But by the afternoon of the third day, she could see his resolve breaking down and boredom setting in. Twice, he pulled his phone out, but a look at her ankle and he'd put it away again. By the third time, however, the temptation was too much and he excused himself for twenty minutes to make a phone call.


When he returned, she told him she was tired and he offered to take her up to her room. Once there, predictably, he offered to stay. She let him, but much to his chagrin, she proved too tired to be much entertainment and so half an hour later, he suggested while she napped he could drive downtown and do some work, then bring back dinner.


He got no argument.


That night, she ate leftovers and listened to his voice on he answering machine explain that he'd gotten roped into having dinner with a client. He was making it too easy, really.

Dillan did not call, he didn't walk by her house, he tried not to think of her at all but of course he failed. He knew now that her offer of tea that first night had been genuine, and sweet. She was just too good, too innocent to try and seduce him. She wasn't like the other women he'd known, and that was part of the problem. If she'd been like Kyle's usual girlfriends it would have been easy to ignore her, to dislike her but she just wasn't and he liked her too much.


He tried, he tried very hard to ignore that small part of himself that was still the selfish little rich boy, but in the end, after a week of silence, he found himself at her doorstep. Three quick knocks later and his fate was sealed. He couldn't walk away, he had to stay and he had to somehow come up with a legitimate reason for his presence.


Why did she have to be Kyle's girlfriend? Why were the fates this damn cruel? Was this punishment? For Frank? For... everything?

She'd seen Kyle two more times that week, once when he stopped by to check up on her and another time when he arrived to pick up a pile of paperwork he'd forgotten. Each time, she saw him a grand total of ten minutes, and with a kiss he was off again. She had not seen Dillan, and while at first she was certain he was only trying to give her and Kyle space, towards the end of the week she'd begun to grow nervous that something had gone wrong with the plan.


Needless to say, she was relieved when behind those three knocks she could see Dillan, standing on her doorstep, looking much the way she imagined a kid might, picking up his girlfriend for prom.


Smiling, she pulled herself up off the couch and make her way to the door, pulling it open with a warm smile.


"Hey, stranger... long time, no see."

Dressed in jeans and his usual old man sweater - he owned multiples, Dillan was his usual not dressed how a rich heir should dress. He couldn't stop the matching that smile that curved his lips at her warm greeting.


"Hey."


He glanced down, "How's the ankle?"


Dammit. Dammit it all to hell. She was still so beautiful. How did they get here? How was he this into her?


In truth he'd been watching her house, as much as he could and as far as he could tell she rarely went anywhere and Kyle even more rarely visited. He wondered if his 'bestie' was ignoring her again? If they were on the rocks? A part of him, a very large selfish part, hoped they would break up. And soon.

"Ah. It's better. I can walk around now without looking like a drunk flamingo at least. Doctor said another week and it'll be good as new." Each day, she'd made sure her focus was in tact. She'd wake, call Killian, go over the plan again, in detail, then she would shower and dress, put on make up... and make absolutely certain if he came by it would be a painful visit to his poor tugged heartstrings.


Today she wore a purple blouse, the first two buttons undo, and a heather grey pencil skirt. Her feet, ankle still sickly purple, were bare, but she'd given herself a pedicure to counteract the ugliness of the bruise.


Stepping back, she held the door ajar, gesturing into the house, "You wanna come in? You'll be saving my life if you do. I have been bored out of my mind all week."

Dillan stepped inside, and as usual he did not attempt to remove his shoes. "We're still a matching set, then?" He teased lightly. Of course her sprained ankle was opposite to his injured leg so they'd limp on different sides.


He was trying to be casual but she smelled amazing and he couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to kiss her.


Never in his life had he had to resist kissing a woman. Not even once. They always fell in his lap, eager and willing.


This was a new experience and he didn't particularly like it.


"Sorry I didn't stop by sooner," he offered, "it's been a bit busy." Lies.


He was learning how to run his father's business but that was all at home work, work he could easily set aside if he wanted to visit. But she couldn't know that. How would she know? Nobody knew he was planning to take over his father's business. People presumed he would just sell it when his parents passed, they had no idea that he'd gotten an education while he was in the military, that he wasn't the kid who slept all day and was content to just take daddy's money without giving anything back.