09-05-2018, 07:29 PM
It wasn't his fault that this was an old wound for her. He did not brandish the weapon knowingly, or at least she did not think so.
After Alistair's sentencing, Natalie tried a thousand times to convince him to allow her in. She wanted to help. But he never did, he never even answered, and in the silence she imagined a thousand reasons why he might choose to cut her from his life. Her soul grew weary battering up against that locked door, until finally she stopped trying. Walls grew high over the fragility. She did not reach out often, and with good reason.
So what else had she expected?
The futility made her wry. A scornful eye turned inward, plucking the strings of morbid humour. She'd told him she would not watch him struggle alone, and she'd meant it whether he accepted her vulnerable offer of aid or not. If he would not tell her of the snare he'd landed himself in, she would simply pool her resources as she had when he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.
It made her feel calmer, in a way. The rejection stung even through the numbness she forced into her chest, but the focus gave her something concrete. Navigating Jay's family and the uncertainty of her presence aside, that was something she could do.
A husk of laughter left her throat, the spark of a dare in her eyes lit up like a challenge. She didn't regret leaving the tangle of her emotions aside for lighter thoughts; in fact right now she welcomed it. Though he might be disappointed to discover no wilting blush at the suggestion; Natalie was hardly a lady.
And the tip of that hat did something stupid to her stomach.
Such an idiot. The faint tug of a smile threatened as she followed him out.
She sank into her wallet for the remainder of the drive, absorbed, eyes faintly narrowed as she parsed through pages of information. Conversation washed through her unheeded, and even the view lost its lure. The building they pulled up to likewise received little scrutiny, her thoughts striated to other distractions, though the personal greeting and Jay's subsequent expression did not go unnoticed. She plucked the keycard gratefully, the tilt of her smirk suggesting that he ought to have just asked her to foot the bill. She wasted no time relieving herself of company though.
The heat of the water blushed revival. It felt good to be clean; good enough that for the first time in a while when her breath left her lungs the tension escaped with it. Small little blocks in a new foundation; she began to feel like herself. She padded back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, hair damp on her shoulders; considered curling up in the bed, and abandoned the idea just as quickly.
Her father's message had been pushed so far down her list of priorities Natalie had all but forgotten it until she finally fished for clean clothes and found the crisp white envelope under her palm. Her expression abruptly flattened, a moment of indecision hovering before she retreated to the bed. Curiosity warred with the lead in her chest until she finally broke the seal.
Two manilla files spilled out on the sheets.
Silence beat hard in her chest. The light danced close; the smallest spark and the words could smoke and ash unseen, their burden eradicated. They were five years too late. I can't forgive you.
For a long time she only stared, jaw tightening. When the visitation order had come through in Sierra Leone, she had not hesitated. Only chance prevented her making the appointment, and a lot had changed since then. Toeing the line between her two halves, she discovered she didn't want to see him. The spiteful depth of her denial surprised even her. At least at the time. But fingering that scar now, she realised it had simply never healed.
She flipped the first folder open; blinked, eyes narrowed in confusion, until the blur of enough words gave a context she abruptly pulled away from. She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the document back in its folder, skin prickling with the heat of anger. "For fuck's sake, dad."
Most people assumed Natalie's acumen for information came from her grandfather, but it wasn't true. Choose your friends and allies wisely, her father has said. Don't allow a side to be picked for you.
She almost didn't bother with the second folder.
Only morbid curiosity tugged her onward. But her stomach sank lower, roiling like she might be sick. She was unprepared for the confrontation of Alistair Pavlo's face; a clipping, probably from the same article Jay had pulled up that night on his wallet. Either Alvis lied about how much he'd planned to share, or her father's awareness of the world beyond his prison cell was far more intricate than anyone suspected. It shouldn't surprise her. But, unaware she might be observed, she had hardly been circumspect in the nature of her enquiries.
He'd called her while she waited in Brandon's office.
Spoke of protection in the holo.
He had no right.
Fury banked cold. When she'd needed him most, he had thrust her away like refuse. The resurgence now was far too late, her heart too hardened to forgive. She rifled quickly through the rest. An autopsy report; fuzzy images of a creature that burned bile in her throat in recognition; another image with Latin words beneath, various eye-witness accounts. Pavlo's smug gaze as he stared down.
She rejected it all fiercely.
The heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. Her heart stuttered like the panic crawled up her throat, the stink in her nostrils, bonds at wrist and ankle. Weathering the crash of memory.
After Alistair's sentencing, Natalie tried a thousand times to convince him to allow her in. She wanted to help. But he never did, he never even answered, and in the silence she imagined a thousand reasons why he might choose to cut her from his life. Her soul grew weary battering up against that locked door, until finally she stopped trying. Walls grew high over the fragility. She did not reach out often, and with good reason.
So what else had she expected?
The futility made her wry. A scornful eye turned inward, plucking the strings of morbid humour. She'd told him she would not watch him struggle alone, and she'd meant it whether he accepted her vulnerable offer of aid or not. If he would not tell her of the snare he'd landed himself in, she would simply pool her resources as she had when he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.
It made her feel calmer, in a way. The rejection stung even through the numbness she forced into her chest, but the focus gave her something concrete. Navigating Jay's family and the uncertainty of her presence aside, that was something she could do.
A husk of laughter left her throat, the spark of a dare in her eyes lit up like a challenge. She didn't regret leaving the tangle of her emotions aside for lighter thoughts; in fact right now she welcomed it. Though he might be disappointed to discover no wilting blush at the suggestion; Natalie was hardly a lady.
And the tip of that hat did something stupid to her stomach.
Such an idiot. The faint tug of a smile threatened as she followed him out.
She sank into her wallet for the remainder of the drive, absorbed, eyes faintly narrowed as she parsed through pages of information. Conversation washed through her unheeded, and even the view lost its lure. The building they pulled up to likewise received little scrutiny, her thoughts striated to other distractions, though the personal greeting and Jay's subsequent expression did not go unnoticed. She plucked the keycard gratefully, the tilt of her smirk suggesting that he ought to have just asked her to foot the bill. She wasted no time relieving herself of company though.
The heat of the water blushed revival. It felt good to be clean; good enough that for the first time in a while when her breath left her lungs the tension escaped with it. Small little blocks in a new foundation; she began to feel like herself. She padded back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, hair damp on her shoulders; considered curling up in the bed, and abandoned the idea just as quickly.
Her father's message had been pushed so far down her list of priorities Natalie had all but forgotten it until she finally fished for clean clothes and found the crisp white envelope under her palm. Her expression abruptly flattened, a moment of indecision hovering before she retreated to the bed. Curiosity warred with the lead in her chest until she finally broke the seal.
Two manilla files spilled out on the sheets.
Silence beat hard in her chest. The light danced close; the smallest spark and the words could smoke and ash unseen, their burden eradicated. They were five years too late. I can't forgive you.
For a long time she only stared, jaw tightening. When the visitation order had come through in Sierra Leone, she had not hesitated. Only chance prevented her making the appointment, and a lot had changed since then. Toeing the line between her two halves, she discovered she didn't want to see him. The spiteful depth of her denial surprised even her. At least at the time. But fingering that scar now, she realised it had simply never healed.
She flipped the first folder open; blinked, eyes narrowed in confusion, until the blur of enough words gave a context she abruptly pulled away from. She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the document back in its folder, skin prickling with the heat of anger. "For fuck's sake, dad."
Most people assumed Natalie's acumen for information came from her grandfather, but it wasn't true. Choose your friends and allies wisely, her father has said. Don't allow a side to be picked for you.
She almost didn't bother with the second folder.
Only morbid curiosity tugged her onward. But her stomach sank lower, roiling like she might be sick. She was unprepared for the confrontation of Alistair Pavlo's face; a clipping, probably from the same article Jay had pulled up that night on his wallet. Either Alvis lied about how much he'd planned to share, or her father's awareness of the world beyond his prison cell was far more intricate than anyone suspected. It shouldn't surprise her. But, unaware she might be observed, she had hardly been circumspect in the nature of her enquiries.
He'd called her while she waited in Brandon's office.
Spoke of protection in the holo.
He had no right.
Fury banked cold. When she'd needed him most, he had thrust her away like refuse. The resurgence now was far too late, her heart too hardened to forgive. She rifled quickly through the rest. An autopsy report; fuzzy images of a creature that burned bile in her throat in recognition; another image with Latin words beneath, various eye-witness accounts. Pavlo's smug gaze as he stared down.
She rejected it all fiercely.
The heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. Her heart stuttered like the panic crawled up her throat, the stink in her nostrils, bonds at wrist and ankle. Weathering the crash of memory.