09-12-2016, 02:05 PM
He accepted the half-sandwich, but only at her insistence. She left him little choice, since she didn't take a bite until he had plucked it from her outstretched hand. And she had all the patience of a mountain, despite the ravening pit of her stomach. Though she was glad when he took it. Even the slightly stale bread danced electric on her tongue - had anything ever tasted so good? The knot in her middle uncurled, the leaden weight of sleep beginning to call less urgently. He was right that it wasn't enough, though.
"Vanders."
Silence captivated her for a beat as she searched for the familiarity of the name. "He was at the refinery."
Her expression closed in carefully, until it was as utterly still as every hour she had ever sat in her father's court case. Cool radiated atop the horror of the memories, tightening claws of regret in her chest. She didn't want to think about it, but a morbid discipline picked everything apart with the shine of new information.
The sandwich suddenly tasted like ash. Questions cramped her tortured replay of events; how another like her might have had an impact, if he'd used his talents. Or she'd known about them. She'd dismissed Vanders with his message from Danjou, but she remembered he'd been there when she argued with Folami. Peripherally. Her attention had been clamped on Jay. Could things have resolved differently?
A cruel question.
Natalie sipped the milk to unstick her throat, perhaps the only outward sign of her discomfort. The blind faith in Azubuike's expression haunted her more than the uncertain bite of fear that tempered it. She'd watched from the window as Jay urged him to save himself, knowing even as her own heart sang a desperate plea to a god she scorned that he would refuse. Because he would never save his own skin and leave the rest of his people behind.
That knowledge weighted a stone in her gut even before Jay was forced to retreat. She'd watched Azu bundle Ayo into the back of one of the trucks. Saw the faith and trust light his expression from the inside out as they drove away.
Knowing what it meant.
Jay had avoided her gaze when he climbed into the humming vehicle; she'd known then that the whole scene sat ill with him. But she'd said nothing. Her own gaze had braced against his hard expression, then pulled away. The ride back to Freetown had been silent, Natalie's attention glued to the blur of passing scenery. It was the last time she'd seen Jay, until she'd woken up here.
The cold distance of her expression stretched into silence as she ate. The effort was mechanical, while within her feelings were neatly compartmentalised, the box that housed them swept away from sight. She spoke no more on it. But the aftertaste washed out the pleasant feelings of before. Once finished she brushed the crumbs from her fingers, and hauled herself up to her feet. It was easier the second time.
"Says you, the man hamstrung by a ten year old?"
A playful smirk offset the scathing nature of her humour. Questions darted beneath the surface. He'd known she was uninjured, but brought her here anyway. It sounded a little like dereliction, except that she knew the value he placed on duty. Her gaze scanned his face, curious, though she made no accusations.
It was markedly selfish of her, but she was glad of the respite, and of the distance it provided. Natalie carried responsibility like a mantle, but forever shucked the chains that bound her. Africa was her choice, of course, but she certainly hadn't been seeking the complication of civil war. Though then again, she couldn't say what she sought in leaving London. Just the supplication of a restless spirit, perhaps. When was she ever content?
The boyish grin warmed a smile from her. The silence of the past few moments erased with that look.
"I need a shower. Desperately. And they need the cot back. Give me five minutes."
He was free to follow or stay put, but she wasn't joking about the itching need.
The hospital was packed, the corridors lined with beds and patients. They crouched along the walls where they had neither ward nor cot, awaiting attention. The astringent scent of blood and antiseptic rolled about in her half-empty stomach, made her feel sick as she threaded her way through them. The harried faces of doctors and nurses passed in a blur. A cacophony of sound. Screams. Begging. The aftermath of the city's shelling, and days of fighting. With netlands hospital reduced to useless rubble, the strain cracked remaining resources. Wallace-Johnson had closed the city to all willing aid. The repercussions bled before her.
Her brow puckered, her steps faltering, jaw tight. But she didn't know how to do what Jared Vanders did, nor had the strength to do it even if she did. Walking away was a wrench, but she was adept at pretending she didn't care, and turned her attention to finding somewhere to clean up. A few directions aided her way through the press of people and equipment. She kept her gaze away from the children in particular, until she found the showers.
Natalie stepped into the warmth with relief; it enlivened her almost as much as the food. A sigh misted her breath; she pressed her head against the porcelain tiles, the luke-warm water streaming over her shoulders. A grimy trail swirled down the grate by her toes, but she barely saw it enough to feel disgust. The names of the lost children stamped a silent march through her mind. Then the faces, real and imagined, she had no names for. Jacques Danjou heaved Sierra Leone up by the roots. Reality closed a noose. There was no school to go back to, not without Azu. And she didn't want to think about it now, but she needed closure before she let that part of her life go.
Tomorrow. Thoughts and problems for tomorrow.
It felt better to be clean, at least. The hospital didn't have much in the way of clothing, but she preferred it over the dirt-caked scraps remaining to her despite the ill fit. An unshapely dress that hung to her knees. An oversized wool cardigan that was at least a pleasing shade of royal blue. Damp hair curled over one shoulder. The sharp tang of hospital soap competing a little nauseatingly with the faint mustiness of the borrowed clothes. She'd kept her own boots; scuffed but comfortable. Thinking of the days ahead.
Her stomach rang empty again, but the hollowness felt less like teetering on the edge of collapse and more like simple hunger. Stepping back into the chaos of the hospital, she searched for Jay.
"Vanders."
Silence captivated her for a beat as she searched for the familiarity of the name. "He was at the refinery."
Her expression closed in carefully, until it was as utterly still as every hour she had ever sat in her father's court case. Cool radiated atop the horror of the memories, tightening claws of regret in her chest. She didn't want to think about it, but a morbid discipline picked everything apart with the shine of new information.
The sandwich suddenly tasted like ash. Questions cramped her tortured replay of events; how another like her might have had an impact, if he'd used his talents. Or she'd known about them. She'd dismissed Vanders with his message from Danjou, but she remembered he'd been there when she argued with Folami. Peripherally. Her attention had been clamped on Jay. Could things have resolved differently?
A cruel question.
Natalie sipped the milk to unstick her throat, perhaps the only outward sign of her discomfort. The blind faith in Azubuike's expression haunted her more than the uncertain bite of fear that tempered it. She'd watched from the window as Jay urged him to save himself, knowing even as her own heart sang a desperate plea to a god she scorned that he would refuse. Because he would never save his own skin and leave the rest of his people behind.
That knowledge weighted a stone in her gut even before Jay was forced to retreat. She'd watched Azu bundle Ayo into the back of one of the trucks. Saw the faith and trust light his expression from the inside out as they drove away.
Knowing what it meant.
Jay had avoided her gaze when he climbed into the humming vehicle; she'd known then that the whole scene sat ill with him. But she'd said nothing. Her own gaze had braced against his hard expression, then pulled away. The ride back to Freetown had been silent, Natalie's attention glued to the blur of passing scenery. It was the last time she'd seen Jay, until she'd woken up here.
The cold distance of her expression stretched into silence as she ate. The effort was mechanical, while within her feelings were neatly compartmentalised, the box that housed them swept away from sight. She spoke no more on it. But the aftertaste washed out the pleasant feelings of before. Once finished she brushed the crumbs from her fingers, and hauled herself up to her feet. It was easier the second time.
"Says you, the man hamstrung by a ten year old?"
A playful smirk offset the scathing nature of her humour. Questions darted beneath the surface. He'd known she was uninjured, but brought her here anyway. It sounded a little like dereliction, except that she knew the value he placed on duty. Her gaze scanned his face, curious, though she made no accusations.
It was markedly selfish of her, but she was glad of the respite, and of the distance it provided. Natalie carried responsibility like a mantle, but forever shucked the chains that bound her. Africa was her choice, of course, but she certainly hadn't been seeking the complication of civil war. Though then again, she couldn't say what she sought in leaving London. Just the supplication of a restless spirit, perhaps. When was she ever content?
The boyish grin warmed a smile from her. The silence of the past few moments erased with that look.
"I need a shower. Desperately. And they need the cot back. Give me five minutes."
He was free to follow or stay put, but she wasn't joking about the itching need.
The hospital was packed, the corridors lined with beds and patients. They crouched along the walls where they had neither ward nor cot, awaiting attention. The astringent scent of blood and antiseptic rolled about in her half-empty stomach, made her feel sick as she threaded her way through them. The harried faces of doctors and nurses passed in a blur. A cacophony of sound. Screams. Begging. The aftermath of the city's shelling, and days of fighting. With netlands hospital reduced to useless rubble, the strain cracked remaining resources. Wallace-Johnson had closed the city to all willing aid. The repercussions bled before her.
Her brow puckered, her steps faltering, jaw tight. But she didn't know how to do what Jared Vanders did, nor had the strength to do it even if she did. Walking away was a wrench, but she was adept at pretending she didn't care, and turned her attention to finding somewhere to clean up. A few directions aided her way through the press of people and equipment. She kept her gaze away from the children in particular, until she found the showers.
Natalie stepped into the warmth with relief; it enlivened her almost as much as the food. A sigh misted her breath; she pressed her head against the porcelain tiles, the luke-warm water streaming over her shoulders. A grimy trail swirled down the grate by her toes, but she barely saw it enough to feel disgust. The names of the lost children stamped a silent march through her mind. Then the faces, real and imagined, she had no names for. Jacques Danjou heaved Sierra Leone up by the roots. Reality closed a noose. There was no school to go back to, not without Azu. And she didn't want to think about it now, but she needed closure before she let that part of her life go.
Tomorrow. Thoughts and problems for tomorrow.
It felt better to be clean, at least. The hospital didn't have much in the way of clothing, but she preferred it over the dirt-caked scraps remaining to her despite the ill fit. An unshapely dress that hung to her knees. An oversized wool cardigan that was at least a pleasing shade of royal blue. Damp hair curled over one shoulder. The sharp tang of hospital soap competing a little nauseatingly with the faint mustiness of the borrowed clothes. She'd kept her own boots; scuffed but comfortable. Thinking of the days ahead.
Her stomach rang empty again, but the hollowness felt less like teetering on the edge of collapse and more like simple hunger. Stepping back into the chaos of the hospital, she searched for Jay.