09-06-2018, 02:41 PM
Lessons learned once ought not be repeated, and this was a lesson she had learned. But Jensen erased the scars, and alcohol would erase the memory. At least for a time. She could feel it swarming like darkness inside, an essence of the restless despair that sent her running to Africa. But she pressed her hands back over her head instead. Began picking up the bloody pieces with practised apathy, not quite sure whether they even made a whole anymore.
A patterned bedspread; a worn bedside phone; old marks on the wall.
Her wan reflection in the tv; a mirror fogged by the steam from her shower.
She squeezed her hands, nails digging relief into her palm.
A knock at the door intruded; one she considered ignoring, until a muffled voice called her name with all the impatience of the young. Natalie tidied the files before she rose, adjusting the towel. The door opened a sliver to Cayli's beaming face, bouncing a little on her heels like the world turned too slow for her liking.
She looked better; like any girl her age should. A flush warmed her face, eyes bright as clear skies, her gleaming gold hair brushed and braided. But her expression stuttered as she took Natalie in, head tilting. Too perceptive by half, that one. She frowned away whatever greeting had been about to burst forth. "Are you okay?"
Natalie had no intention of confiding in a fourteen year old, let alone one who was also Jay's sister, but Cayli wasn't stupid either. The pale stretch of her gaze took a moment to decide before offering a shrug of bluntness. Too weary to pretend. "Not really, Cay, no."
The girl blinked. Perhaps because she had expected the polite lie and didn't know what to do with the uncomfortable gift of truth. Her feet shuffled, peeking up the length of the corridor, and Natalie ought to have put her at ease, but the words just never came out.
"I'm sorry about your school." One hand waved the wallet tucked in her palm, her eyes glancing up full of rueful charm. "I looked it up. After you said. Sometimes life really sucks."
Natalie smirked, pressing her head against the fingers wrapped around the door jamb. The smoulder of emotion burned somewhere small and sad, but she strangely appreciated the words. The darkness unfurled a little. A little stir of humour. "Only half the time."
Cayli rebounded. "I'm only supposed to be getting snacks. I can't go hardly anywhere in here." She sighed sharply, as though that was the biggest problem of this whole sorry mess. Though perhaps for her it was. "'Don't go and see that woman', mom said. I think she's hoping you'll get bored of our little backwater town and, well, anyway, you're not going anywhere though, are you?"
Which explained the visit. Earnestness hung on the question, probably hopeful of an invitation. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.
Fleeting disappointment captured Cayli's expression, though it transfixed to acceptance soon enough. She nodded. "Have you seen my brother? He didn't answer his door." Stalking the perimeter; assessing threat; assembling a contingency, or so Natalie imagined. Desperate to keep his family safe; determined to do so alone. She shook her head. "Well if you see him can you puh-lease tell him that mom and dad are driving me insane, and since it's totally his fault he should really be making it up to me."
Once the door locked behind her, Natalie sat at the dresser, flicking through the last screens of search on her wallet. Her brows lowered, mouth pinched by a frown. One fist curled under her chin as she stared down at image. Black hair. Shark eyes. An arrogant tilt to his chin.
On the journey to the casino she'd parsed through the ball's guest list seeking connections. She'd had to start somewhere. The easiest one came first; Scion Marveet, her friendly benefactor. It seemed well known that he vied for a seat on the Sphere, widening the context of his warnings and advice into a pretty picture of bribery. But that was a concern for later. She'd isolated the Americans next. Then narrowed the field. Ryker's companion had spoken Spanish, she was fairly sure, and he'd worn jewels in accented colours that tickled a faint memory. Azure and diamond flashed when he raised his hand in mocking toast, his sharp gaze dissecting them all like a predator.
It might be nothing, but it was the way her mind worked; stitching small details until a tapestry grew, adjusting as she went, sharpening the picture to clarity.
She'd run searches on the various family names that pinged up, looking for anything of interest as the world zipped past outside. Remembering the face of the man who'd plunged Jay's head into his hands like the world came crashing down. Scanned for likeness on gossip sites filled with paparazzi images (discovered something had definitely happened after they'd left). And wove it all against Jay's mutterings to himself.
Until a name finally scythed to the surface. Amengual.
Zacarias Amengual.
His picture burned her retinas as they pulled into the car park, her investigations momentarily abandoned in favour of simpler needs. Though now, prompted by Cayli's visit, she picked the thread back up. She had an identity but no motivation ... beyond Jay's own damn words, remembered suddenly as she stared down at Amengual's face now. Light. I'm sorry for your loss.
Facts connected.
Her glance at Jay's file had been brief, even that tinged with guilt when she realised what she was looking at. Dishonourable discharge stamped a terrible sentence. Blank fields wiped the confidential document, though she imagined her father only cared for the title. Choose your friends and allies wisely. Either way, she had not stared long enough to internalise more than that, nor puzzled through the pages that rested behind. She hadn't even known he'd been a marine.
What did you do?
He wouldn't want to talk to her. And truthfully Natalie had no intention of sharing how easily she'd begun to unravel what must amount to one of his bleakest secrets, nor allow him the insight to realise that she would wade fearless into those waters if she thought she could help.
But there was a problem leaning on her conscience.
Jay deserved to know what her father had done; what he knew. Alistair Grey had always been an enigma, even to Natalie. Truth was, she didn't know what else he might do with the information. Particularly if she continued to ignore him. And if her dad interfered?
Fuck.
She breathed out sharp. Irritated all over again. And stood.
It only took a moment to dress. Dark jeans hugged her thighs, a loose tee scooping low beneath her collar bones. Nondescript clothes; the sort she'd worn day to day in Africa. The diamonds were still in her ears, forgotten; she left them anyway. Her hair dried in pale waves around her face, left to tousle as it chose. Aside from being blessedly clean, she did not worry over her appearance.
She slipped the wallet in her pocket; thought about bringing the envelope, but in the end packed it away back in her bag. Probably better he saw that in private.
Natalie wandered to get her bearings, curious gaze washing across the strangeness of the casino. Her mind reeled a litany of things she might say to explain, even knowing instinct would carry her through the difficult topic. She'd never asked him what he knew of her past; never assumed she would need to, either. A drink would not go amiss, dictating her direction toward dutch courage. She only spotted Jay because of the black stetson, but the curve of a smile faded quickly as she absorbed his company. History wrapped them close, her foot brushing his with affection. The hurt flashed hard, staring just a heartbeat too long at the way he leaned in. The hat shadowed his expression, but not hers.
Natalie ought to have carried on, unconcerned. It wasn't like it was her business. Instead she turned around and walked straight out.
The thump of the bass next door reminded her of that underground club, the reason she had initially favoured the other bar, and perhaps exactly why she chose it as a refuge now. Sharper memories drowned out shallower hurts. Self-destruct was a default she battled most of her life, but old habits died hard. Sometimes she embraced them like old friends.
It was mostly empty; too early for all but the most hardcore daytime drinkers. But she didn't much absorb her surroundings, just as she didn't much absorb the numbness in her chest or the sense of foolishness clawing for her attention. She lifted onto a stool in front of the slick bar, back turned to everything despite the shallow way it made her heart beat like the first flutterings of panic.
There hadn't exactly been time to exchange currency before leaving Moscow, but they accepted the tap of her wallet. The barman joked about needing to check her ID, but flirtatious mirth died soon after. The hard line of her smile was all sharpness and darkness that did not welcome idle conversation. Her fingers swept back over her head, cascading a river of pale gold. The first shot burned.
She told him to open a tab.
Lessons learned once ought not be repeated, and this was a lesson she had learned. But alcohol would erase the feeling. At least for a time.
A patterned bedspread; a worn bedside phone; old marks on the wall.
Her wan reflection in the tv; a mirror fogged by the steam from her shower.
She squeezed her hands, nails digging relief into her palm.
A knock at the door intruded; one she considered ignoring, until a muffled voice called her name with all the impatience of the young. Natalie tidied the files before she rose, adjusting the towel. The door opened a sliver to Cayli's beaming face, bouncing a little on her heels like the world turned too slow for her liking.
She looked better; like any girl her age should. A flush warmed her face, eyes bright as clear skies, her gleaming gold hair brushed and braided. But her expression stuttered as she took Natalie in, head tilting. Too perceptive by half, that one. She frowned away whatever greeting had been about to burst forth. "Are you okay?"
Natalie had no intention of confiding in a fourteen year old, let alone one who was also Jay's sister, but Cayli wasn't stupid either. The pale stretch of her gaze took a moment to decide before offering a shrug of bluntness. Too weary to pretend. "Not really, Cay, no."
The girl blinked. Perhaps because she had expected the polite lie and didn't know what to do with the uncomfortable gift of truth. Her feet shuffled, peeking up the length of the corridor, and Natalie ought to have put her at ease, but the words just never came out.
"I'm sorry about your school." One hand waved the wallet tucked in her palm, her eyes glancing up full of rueful charm. "I looked it up. After you said. Sometimes life really sucks."
Natalie smirked, pressing her head against the fingers wrapped around the door jamb. The smoulder of emotion burned somewhere small and sad, but she strangely appreciated the words. The darkness unfurled a little. A little stir of humour. "Only half the time."
Cayli rebounded. "I'm only supposed to be getting snacks. I can't go hardly anywhere in here." She sighed sharply, as though that was the biggest problem of this whole sorry mess. Though perhaps for her it was. "'Don't go and see that woman', mom said. I think she's hoping you'll get bored of our little backwater town and, well, anyway, you're not going anywhere though, are you?"
Which explained the visit. Earnestness hung on the question, probably hopeful of an invitation. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.
Fleeting disappointment captured Cayli's expression, though it transfixed to acceptance soon enough. She nodded. "Have you seen my brother? He didn't answer his door." Stalking the perimeter; assessing threat; assembling a contingency, or so Natalie imagined. Desperate to keep his family safe; determined to do so alone. She shook her head. "Well if you see him can you puh-lease tell him that mom and dad are driving me insane, and since it's totally his fault he should really be making it up to me."
Once the door locked behind her, Natalie sat at the dresser, flicking through the last screens of search on her wallet. Her brows lowered, mouth pinched by a frown. One fist curled under her chin as she stared down at image. Black hair. Shark eyes. An arrogant tilt to his chin.
On the journey to the casino she'd parsed through the ball's guest list seeking connections. She'd had to start somewhere. The easiest one came first; Scion Marveet, her friendly benefactor. It seemed well known that he vied for a seat on the Sphere, widening the context of his warnings and advice into a pretty picture of bribery. But that was a concern for later. She'd isolated the Americans next. Then narrowed the field. Ryker's companion had spoken Spanish, she was fairly sure, and he'd worn jewels in accented colours that tickled a faint memory. Azure and diamond flashed when he raised his hand in mocking toast, his sharp gaze dissecting them all like a predator.
It might be nothing, but it was the way her mind worked; stitching small details until a tapestry grew, adjusting as she went, sharpening the picture to clarity.
She'd run searches on the various family names that pinged up, looking for anything of interest as the world zipped past outside. Remembering the face of the man who'd plunged Jay's head into his hands like the world came crashing down. Scanned for likeness on gossip sites filled with paparazzi images (discovered something had definitely happened after they'd left). And wove it all against Jay's mutterings to himself.
Until a name finally scythed to the surface. Amengual.
Zacarias Amengual.
His picture burned her retinas as they pulled into the car park, her investigations momentarily abandoned in favour of simpler needs. Though now, prompted by Cayli's visit, she picked the thread back up. She had an identity but no motivation ... beyond Jay's own damn words, remembered suddenly as she stared down at Amengual's face now. Light. I'm sorry for your loss.
Facts connected.
Her glance at Jay's file had been brief, even that tinged with guilt when she realised what she was looking at. Dishonourable discharge stamped a terrible sentence. Blank fields wiped the confidential document, though she imagined her father only cared for the title. Choose your friends and allies wisely. Either way, she had not stared long enough to internalise more than that, nor puzzled through the pages that rested behind. She hadn't even known he'd been a marine.
What did you do?
He wouldn't want to talk to her. And truthfully Natalie had no intention of sharing how easily she'd begun to unravel what must amount to one of his bleakest secrets, nor allow him the insight to realise that she would wade fearless into those waters if she thought she could help.
But there was a problem leaning on her conscience.
Jay deserved to know what her father had done; what he knew. Alistair Grey had always been an enigma, even to Natalie. Truth was, she didn't know what else he might do with the information. Particularly if she continued to ignore him. And if her dad interfered?
Fuck.
She breathed out sharp. Irritated all over again. And stood.
It only took a moment to dress. Dark jeans hugged her thighs, a loose tee scooping low beneath her collar bones. Nondescript clothes; the sort she'd worn day to day in Africa. The diamonds were still in her ears, forgotten; she left them anyway. Her hair dried in pale waves around her face, left to tousle as it chose. Aside from being blessedly clean, she did not worry over her appearance.
She slipped the wallet in her pocket; thought about bringing the envelope, but in the end packed it away back in her bag. Probably better he saw that in private.
Natalie wandered to get her bearings, curious gaze washing across the strangeness of the casino. Her mind reeled a litany of things she might say to explain, even knowing instinct would carry her through the difficult topic. She'd never asked him what he knew of her past; never assumed she would need to, either. A drink would not go amiss, dictating her direction toward dutch courage. She only spotted Jay because of the black stetson, but the curve of a smile faded quickly as she absorbed his company. History wrapped them close, her foot brushing his with affection. The hurt flashed hard, staring just a heartbeat too long at the way he leaned in. The hat shadowed his expression, but not hers.
Natalie ought to have carried on, unconcerned. It wasn't like it was her business. Instead she turned around and walked straight out.
The thump of the bass next door reminded her of that underground club, the reason she had initially favoured the other bar, and perhaps exactly why she chose it as a refuge now. Sharper memories drowned out shallower hurts. Self-destruct was a default she battled most of her life, but old habits died hard. Sometimes she embraced them like old friends.
It was mostly empty; too early for all but the most hardcore daytime drinkers. But she didn't much absorb her surroundings, just as she didn't much absorb the numbness in her chest or the sense of foolishness clawing for her attention. She lifted onto a stool in front of the slick bar, back turned to everything despite the shallow way it made her heart beat like the first flutterings of panic.
There hadn't exactly been time to exchange currency before leaving Moscow, but they accepted the tap of her wallet. The barman joked about needing to check her ID, but flirtatious mirth died soon after. The hard line of her smile was all sharpness and darkness that did not welcome idle conversation. Her fingers swept back over her head, cascading a river of pale gold. The first shot burned.
She told him to open a tab.
Lessons learned once ought not be repeated, and this was a lesson she had learned. But alcohol would erase the feeling. At least for a time.