For the Sake of Saving Us

"No, sir, returns will be of no cost to you. If you take the shipping label that came with the product and either send the shirt back in it's original packaging or a large envelope, we will hopefully have the money back in your account in the next two weeks."

"As I said to the young lady before, we don't want a refund, we'd just like to swap the sizes."

"Unfortunately sir, as we are a online based company, the best we can do is refund your money and have you reorder the shirt in the correct size yourself."

It had been a long day, and with it be oh-so close to the six o'clock cut off time for customer enquiries, Poppy was past ready to put the phone on answering machine and disappear off home and to bed.

"Absolutely no problem. I hope this has been of help. Goodbye."

The pushy and agitated Dad was finally satisfied, but only after shouting at their intern and demanding to speak to a more senior member of staff, only to be all sweetness and kind when Poppy had finally gotten the chance to take the call.

The poor girl looks frightened half to death as the phone rings again, and when Poppy glances at the number that is also displayed on her screen, she smiles at the internal number.

"Only Mark." Poppy grins, "Yes, boss?"

"Nice to get the recognition once in a while." He chuckles, "You got a moment to come to my office?"

"Be there in two."

"Bring me coffee!"

Poppy laughs as she slips the phone back into it's cradle and hits the 'call forwarding' button, "You wanna get yourself home?"

The intern, Lily, nods furiously and starts to frantically gather her stuff, "Thank you."

"We all have bad days, Lil. Don't take it to heart, you handled that douche pretty well."

It's barely a thirty second walk to grab a coffee from the little kitchenette and then into Marky's office, where the CEO is staring at his computer screen, fingers steepled.

"Sup, broski?"

"We gotta' go on a trip."

"'kay... Where we headed?"

"Chi-town!"

"Oh. Can't 'chelle go? Pickel?"

"I need them hear for the launch with Zumiez."

"Why are we going back?"

"Warehouse, stocks - all that stuff needs to be moved here eventually. I'm paying Kyle to basically make sure we don't run out of anything all of sudden."

"Alright then, yeah. You need me to book plane tickets?"

"Fancy getting a train?"

"You ain't making this anymore appealing!"

It wasn't that Poppy was worried about going back to Chicago, but the whole city and maybe even the state, held bad memories and things she'd rather let lie. It wasn't just the reason she'd left, but who had been the one to send her there in the first place and then pull her home again four years later.

History certainly felt like it was repeating itself, what with her moving to a new state to avoid any trouble.

-----

"See, if we'd taken the train, we'd still be somewhere around Albany now."

"But imagine the scenery!"

"Hey, if you wanna do it on the way back, feel free. I'll still be flying."

Marky laughs as they finally reach the door of apartment he still rents in Chicago, he swinging it open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Welcome back."

"Let's just get shit done."

-----

"God, Kyle is so fired."

Poppy laughs as she drops another half-full box of t-shirts onto the slightly dusty floor of the old GK offices, "We can just put these back on sale."

"There's not enough for the demand they could get. This is gonna be a loss."

"Send them as gifts? You know, someone buys over $100 of stuff and they can get a discontinued shirt or something?"

Marky looks at her and then the random variety of old stock that they'd found stashed at the back of the warehouse, "Genius! We'll look into more later!"

"Oh. Yay." Poppy was pretty much done for the day, even the hour time difference had disturbed her usual routine and she felt like she was going into some sort of stress-related breakdown with the worry that someone she knew from the area would suddenly pop up and start questioning why she'd moved so suddenly and not bothered to stay in contact.

Not to mention the migraine that had been pounding inside her head ever since she stepped foot on the plane.

"I don't pay you to be sarcastic."

"Nor do you pay me to put up with other people's failings. Look, can I help you count the rest of these tee's and then get home? I need a few Tylenol and infinite darkness."

"Still got that headache?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Yeah, go on then. I won't be long following you."

They both anchor down to finish the menial task of counting t-shirts, the both of them hating the mix-matched boxes of each, making the job of actually having total difficult.

By the time Poppy has finished her array of boxes, another hour has passed and without a word to Marky, she salutes him and leaves the office.

Her plan, as the usual since she got back from Florida, was to get back, eat something that didn't take longer than ten minutes to cook/order and then collapse into bed to watch some addicting TV Series until she passed out.

She swings the door shut behind her, expecting to hear it slam, and yet it doesn't. That's when she knows something is most definitely wrong.

Rick is there. Of course he is. There was no way the higher powers could let her get this trip over with without something going wrong. He's at least still stood in the doorway, but the fact he'd followed her upstairs was bad enough.

"Um-."

"I knew you'd come back."

"I'm actually just tying up some loose ends, so-."

"Then let me do the same."

His fist swings but she's prepared, she having been tensed from the moment she'd turned to find him there. Her only thought to get him away is to attempt to shut the door, flick the lock and then frantically call the police. He's fast though, and no weaker than he was a year ago, and she barely catches his fingers in the door before he's slamming back through into the apartment.
Poppy stumbles, trying to decide if talking him down will work or if she just tries to run, get away - very far away.

He lunges, hits her legs and that's when she realises that neither of her plans are going to work. She's going to have to be as strong as she can through this and hope and pray that someone walks past the open door or Marky hurries home.
Her head hits the wooden floor with a dizzying bang, Poppy's eyes rolling as she chokes out a cry of pain, her legs already working to kick him off, thrashing violently as she tries to scrabble away from the attack. She makes it to her feet after a well aimed knee to his nose, but this barely slows him down for a minute, he quickly chasing her down, his hand grabbing the back of her shirt.

"Woah now, Poppy. I've waited a long time for this. You said you'd come and see me and then disappeared with that faggot. You can imagine my delight when you saunter on past me on the street without even realising. It was like Christmas."

"Rick, you can't do this anymore. I'm not going to let you. You need to leave." Poppy struggles against his hold, her face pressed uncomfortably into the wall separating the main room from the kitchen.

"I don't think you've got much of a choice." He tightens his hold around her neck a little more, stepping up closer behind her, forcing her forward into the wall, "Did you really think you'd seen the end of me? I knew where'd you gone, and who with."

"Then why not come for me, huh?" She thrashes, trying to push some space so her ribs aren't under so much pressure, "Just give up."

"You've certainly found your voice."

She thrown back to the floor before she even realises he's spun her round and she knows the sudden sharp pain in her shoulder doesn't mean anything good. His weight is suddenly all on her left thigh, crushing her leg to the floor.

"Wh-what do you want?" She's hurting everywhere now, black spots clouding around her vision, "Why do you do this?"

"I like the power trip."

-----

Marky walks in to a sight he swore he'd never witness again.

He had done everything in his power to get Poppy away from that man as safely and calmly as possible. He'd let her move 700 miles across the country, tour with the only people she felt at home with and let her keep her job throughout. She was his best friend, had pulled him out of trouble more than enough times for him to still owe her big and yet, she was still dealt a shit hand.

How Rick had even found her, he supposed he'd never know.

Mark reacts as quickly as he can, drags the bulk of man off the girl who's eyes are rolling into the back of her head and throws a hopefully powerful fist at the side of his head, the hit managing to knock him out.
It was amazing was adrenaline could do.

"Poppy, honey-."

"Get him away, please?" She's sobbing, trying to roll onto her side, supposedly to get to her feet, shuffling away.

"Just stay still, OK? Just please."

He can't think what to do other than call the police, and an ambulance for Poppy who's now leant up against the back of the couch, crying almost silently.

"Please, Marky. Please."

By the time Marky can tear his attention away from telling the operator the address, Poppy's unconscious.