Tweetie

56

"Robin, you look- what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I-"

She fell, her body collapsing onto the couch beside Roderick who immediately sat up, noticing the teary-eyed state of the girl too fragile for a world as harsh as it was to her.

The room was a mess, not quite on the same level as her own home was, but it had a similar feeling. The same paper smell that blended with too much coffee, the same files scattered where they could fit, dust, untouched by a man not home long enough to think of it as a worry. It was a place that didn't look very much like Roderick, then again, he didn't look like Roderick to most people. He came off as clean, organised and always knowing. He was rarely knowing. Clever, sure. But not knowing. He was just a man trying his best to prove a world wrong.

Robin thought she was strong once, that she could handle any situation. In reality, it was the glue that held her together that was strong. She crumbled, but the glue she used to piece herself back, the lack of care, the knowledge that things wouldn't often go right and the expectancy that it wouldn't, that was stronger than she could be. And only now, once the glue wore away, chipping to nothing, she was left crumbling and fragile, turning to dust. She wasn't who she thought she was, she was never really Hazel White.

"What happened?" Roderick sat by her, placing a delicate hand on her back as she burrowed herself into the pillows.

"Ryan said he likes me," she said, voice muffled, "and- and I like him- really really actually."

"But?"

"But he hates me. I'm Hazel White, I ruined his life, I took away his home, I got his dad arrested for fifty years! Fifty!" She shook, holding the pillows too tightly in a sharp grip. "I- I left my things with him. My bag. My ID, my notebook. Everything."

Roderick's eyes widened.

"Robin, that's-"

"I don't care how dangerous," she pushed herself up, exposing her wet eyes and shaking lips, "if he wants to ruin my life, I'll let him. I ruined his. But..."

Roderick sank, shaking his head at the situation. He once wanted to be a dad, he still did. He forgot that it would involve this.

"C'mere," he gestured with a flick of his head and she sank into the side of him, letting her hug him like he did when she used to call him Uncle Roderick despite there being no blood connection but a strong sense of family. "I'm sure it will be fine. I'm- I'm sure it'll work out."

She nodded.

How long had it been since she left him? Twenty minutes? Was that long enough for him to read? Or was it too long? Was it long enough for him to read and then call the media, a newspaper, a-

She threw herself away from Roderick as her phone vibrated.

"Hello?" She gasped into the phone.

"Hazel."

Oh.

"Archie," she sank and Roderick watched all of her hopes fade again as she prepared to make new glue to piece herself together with. Lack of care, lack of hope, low expectations. That was all it took, and she was fully prepared to go back to that once the case was over, once it ended and she could forget this life ever happened. "What's up?"

Roderick noticed how easily she caught her voice, how easily she made herself sound as normal as ever, like she wasn't wiping continuous streams of tears from her eyes as she spoke.

"I just thought I'd let you know that nothing is missing, not as far as I can tell at least. But I can't be sure, this would need to be something you double check at some point."