08-16-2018, 01:29 PM
Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir. She dragged herself through the routine, as much to urge herself awake as to calm her frayed emotions. Grey walls. A clouded mirror. A steady drip from the tap. Tissue thin toilet paper. Her father's wallet.
She ran the device over in her hands, as though its shiny black facets might hold answers. Why now, after five years? He'd be livid to know she'd stuffed that envelope unread in with her luggage, unattended right now in the overhead bin. Maybe she'd just burn it without opening it at all and relieve herself of whatever burdens the knowledge would bring. Choose your friends and allies carefully. The steady hum of the engines lulled her. Her father's warnings blurred with the stranger's friendly advice. She wanted no part in any of it.
Some time later a bang at the door roused her. "Ma'am, are you okay in there?"
It was almost midday by the time they landed; or would have been back in Moscow. They'd flown away from dawn's light and into a too stretched night; it made the darkness feel miserably endless. But the sun finally curled gold fingers into the sky on this side of the world. Three or four hours would mark the end of the journey, including the drive; it would still be early morning by the time they reached the hospital
Jay fidgeted something wicked, even if she understood why. Fatigue trimmed her nerves to sharp points, and the blossoming strength of Jensen's healing seemed an age away now. She'd picked up a paperback at the airport, but the words were already swimming. Her eyes burned with every blink. On the third repetition she leaned over him to open the window cover he kept fiddling with, streaming in soft light. Her hand captured his restless one and held it still in his lap, though she didn't look up from her book. The pad of her thumb grazed the callous of his palm.
'It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.' Her eyes skimmed the same line half a dozen times before she stifled a yawn. Blinked her eyes to clear them.
On the lap tray her wallet suddenly shuddered, vibrating against a half finished cup of coffee. She flicked the book shut and scooped it up, about to send the call to voicemail as soon as her mother's name flashed the screen. Until she noticed just how many calls had collected unnoticed since the early hours. Panic beat a hollow thud in her chest.
The cabin crew were readying for take off; she shouldn't be on the phone at all. One of them moved down the centre aisle as she pressed it to her ear.
"Mum?"
Silence. Then the suck of breath over a contained sob. "Natalie! Are you okay? Where are you?"
Disapproval pinioned her down as the stewardess leaned over the seat. Natalie frowned, warding the woman and her plaintive calls of "Ma'am, you need to put your phone away for take-off" off with an impatient hand. Her skin prickled, hollowing out her breath shallow.
"Of course I'm okay."
She was unprepared for the sound of her mother's tears. Even when her father had been hauled into custody, before it had become clear precisely what he'd done to strike against the CCD, she had not seen her mother cry. Eleanor might be made of softer things, but she was not weak. Guilt burrowed in Natalie's chest at the breadth of emotion shared now. "Shh." Her voice softened around the word, trying to soothe its way through to sense. "Shh, please stop crying. I promise I'm okay."
"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."
Natalie had planned to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. She'd also planned to defer the confession until necessity forced her hand. She missed calls all the time, particularly when she didn't want the contact. Given their fractious relationship over the past few years, a few hours silence was nothing -- and certainly not enough to warrant this kind of panic.
Something had happened back in Moscow.
"I left the party early. I'm now about to leave JFK." Overhead, the stewardess implored Jay or Jensen to intervene on her behalf. Flat silence echoed down the line as Eleanor translated the location, but she said nothing; certainly none of the fury Natalie had anticipated. Perhaps it was only shock. But she somehow seemed calmer, like she had finally managed to pull all her spilled pieces back under control.
"Then you're not in Moscow." It sounded like relief.
"No," she agreed carefully. "And I can't talk now. But'll I'll call you when I land, I promise."
She sank back in her seat, puzzling over the anomaly as the wallet powered down. They'd know when they landed, perhaps, but for now there was no point sharing her suspicions. One of the Nine and the world's greatest healer were now a world away from where they might be required, and neither needed the burden of guilt such knowledge would bring.
"I should have told her I was leaving," she said by way of explanation. Her head pressed back, brows low. She closed her eyes.
[[Ten points to anyone who knew the book line is from Frankenstein]]
She ran the device over in her hands, as though its shiny black facets might hold answers. Why now, after five years? He'd be livid to know she'd stuffed that envelope unread in with her luggage, unattended right now in the overhead bin. Maybe she'd just burn it without opening it at all and relieve herself of whatever burdens the knowledge would bring. Choose your friends and allies carefully. The steady hum of the engines lulled her. Her father's warnings blurred with the stranger's friendly advice. She wanted no part in any of it.
Some time later a bang at the door roused her. "Ma'am, are you okay in there?"
It was almost midday by the time they landed; or would have been back in Moscow. They'd flown away from dawn's light and into a too stretched night; it made the darkness feel miserably endless. But the sun finally curled gold fingers into the sky on this side of the world. Three or four hours would mark the end of the journey, including the drive; it would still be early morning by the time they reached the hospital
Jay fidgeted something wicked, even if she understood why. Fatigue trimmed her nerves to sharp points, and the blossoming strength of Jensen's healing seemed an age away now. She'd picked up a paperback at the airport, but the words were already swimming. Her eyes burned with every blink. On the third repetition she leaned over him to open the window cover he kept fiddling with, streaming in soft light. Her hand captured his restless one and held it still in his lap, though she didn't look up from her book. The pad of her thumb grazed the callous of his palm.
'It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.' Her eyes skimmed the same line half a dozen times before she stifled a yawn. Blinked her eyes to clear them.
On the lap tray her wallet suddenly shuddered, vibrating against a half finished cup of coffee. She flicked the book shut and scooped it up, about to send the call to voicemail as soon as her mother's name flashed the screen. Until she noticed just how many calls had collected unnoticed since the early hours. Panic beat a hollow thud in her chest.
The cabin crew were readying for take off; she shouldn't be on the phone at all. One of them moved down the centre aisle as she pressed it to her ear.
"Mum?"
Silence. Then the suck of breath over a contained sob. "Natalie! Are you okay? Where are you?"
Disapproval pinioned her down as the stewardess leaned over the seat. Natalie frowned, warding the woman and her plaintive calls of "Ma'am, you need to put your phone away for take-off" off with an impatient hand. Her skin prickled, hollowing out her breath shallow.
"Of course I'm okay."
She was unprepared for the sound of her mother's tears. Even when her father had been hauled into custody, before it had become clear precisely what he'd done to strike against the CCD, she had not seen her mother cry. Eleanor might be made of softer things, but she was not weak. Guilt burrowed in Natalie's chest at the breadth of emotion shared now. "Shh." Her voice softened around the word, trying to soothe its way through to sense. "Shh, please stop crying. I promise I'm okay."
"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."
Natalie had planned to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. She'd also planned to defer the confession until necessity forced her hand. She missed calls all the time, particularly when she didn't want the contact. Given their fractious relationship over the past few years, a few hours silence was nothing -- and certainly not enough to warrant this kind of panic.
Something had happened back in Moscow.
"I left the party early. I'm now about to leave JFK." Overhead, the stewardess implored Jay or Jensen to intervene on her behalf. Flat silence echoed down the line as Eleanor translated the location, but she said nothing; certainly none of the fury Natalie had anticipated. Perhaps it was only shock. But she somehow seemed calmer, like she had finally managed to pull all her spilled pieces back under control.
"Then you're not in Moscow." It sounded like relief.
"No," she agreed carefully. "And I can't talk now. But'll I'll call you when I land, I promise."
She sank back in her seat, puzzling over the anomaly as the wallet powered down. They'd know when they landed, perhaps, but for now there was no point sharing her suspicions. One of the Nine and the world's greatest healer were now a world away from where they might be required, and neither needed the burden of guilt such knowledge would bring.
"I should have told her I was leaving," she said by way of explanation. Her head pressed back, brows low. She closed her eyes.
[[Ten points to anyone who knew the book line is from Frankenstein]]