07-19-2018, 06:49 PM
He glanced innocently at the door, "Showing off? Never."
His grin swung downward thereafter, illustrating the overly dramatic attire wrapping him head to toe. Of course he was showing off. Last time he saw her, he couldn't do much more than aimlessly fling knots of anger at the things to crush. His finesse was leaps and bounds beyond that now. Ascendancy was right. He was learning the control he wanted. "Subtlety isn't exactly the Ascendancy's primary strategy."
He smirked while she considered the acceptance of his arm.
Jay's grins mellowed as she lingered. Falling into something more blank like the emotions from seconds before were siphoned by their collective horde of ever-waiting demons. Why wouldn't she come? Their victory was awarded. Ascendancy gave him permission to leave. More, the arrangements would be made as soon as Jensen was found. Probably should send Danjou some kind of message regarding the departure. Probably while he was killing time on the plane. Midair was about as boring an existence as possible. Luckily, civilian planes were comfortable as any bed. Even the worst seat in coach was a thousand times better than rapid descent in a cargo plane packed in like sardines, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back on metal benches.
Not only did Natalie keep her distance, her expression shifted like gears grinding to a halt. Jay swallowed, eyes wide, chest tightening. She just stared, expectant, studious. But cold. Dismissive. She hadn't wanted involved. He shouldn't have gone to her. The idea of going to Iowa disgusted her. Not that he blamed her. His little middle of the nowhere county he called home was about as opposite as Moscow as possible. Even the charm and history of Sierra Leone, bloody as it was, was absent in Iowa. Corn, unions, and hicks were the culture of the country. It was home, and he felt a connection to that landscape bred by generations of Carpenters pouring their sweat and blood into the soil, even as he yearned to escape that flat, green horizon. Escaped he had, only to find blood and regret the uniform of today. Only, he didn't regret leaving. He regretted the motives, ashamed of the excitement of the job offer with the Legion. He might have found work just as stable in Des Moines, maybe. The city was rife with unemployment and Jay's particular set of skills weren't in high demand. That was the story he told himself, anyway. If he was a mall cop, an armored truck guard, or a bank officer, all of it, any of it, he'd have shot himself by now. And what the hell good could he do for Cayli dead? Same could be said of literally walking into firefights in Freetown. But at least in Freetown he had a chance. Hell of a chance. He was a rifleman after all, a soldier, an operator. Now, a channeler. There were few men alive that could do what he did and walk away with a shred of morality in tact. He was a good man. A good man that needed to do something bigger than farming.
Or so the story he told himself went.
She spoke, breathless, like putting speech to thoughts made them all the more real. "I only lie to myself, Natalie,"
he responded in like kind.
His shoulders sank as he scrubbed his hair and turned away. How to explain? She'd never forget that meeting her was for a job. Would she always see him as a job? An obligation? Is that why she was in the room? Solicitation and a sense of obligation?
"You know, nobody paid me to run into those tunnels to find you."
He said it harsher than he meant to. He hadn't meant to wound her, but the defensiveness cut to the heart of nastier wounds. Ones vulnerable to being split open again. Blood pooling at their feet, Jay grimaced. Dammit. I've screwed it up.
He turned back and went to her, blue eyes glistening with fervor that she understand. He wanted to grip her hands again, but the snap of her previous retraction was a fresh memory he wasn't keen to repeat any time soon.
He spoke from the heart, like the words rumbled deep from the chest, not the mouth, not the lips. His soul wanted to explain. But he was too human to convey the meaning.
"I don't think I wanted to be found, even if you had. Ascendancy was right, I need this,"
he touched his heart to the chain draping his chest. Fingertips grazed the clasp gifted by Ascendancy that secured the jacket closed.
Maybe the need was more honorable than the cynic within called it. But it was both, darkness and light at war. Maybe it was circumstance, maybe it was orchestrated. He found that he loved Africa. He loved being there, being the hero. Saving people. Saving her. There were a lot of ways to be that man. Why this way? That was the lie he told himself. He wasn't the hero.
He was the villain.
Every minute he delayed, Cayli was a minute closer to death. But he had to know. He couldn't leave the room without knowing. "What difference could you have made?"
It was a whisper, like he didn't want to know the answer.
Or worse. He feared the answer.
Feared it enough to want to run from the room.
But god help him. He didn't.
His grin swung downward thereafter, illustrating the overly dramatic attire wrapping him head to toe. Of course he was showing off. Last time he saw her, he couldn't do much more than aimlessly fling knots of anger at the things to crush. His finesse was leaps and bounds beyond that now. Ascendancy was right. He was learning the control he wanted. "Subtlety isn't exactly the Ascendancy's primary strategy."
He smirked while she considered the acceptance of his arm.
Jay's grins mellowed as she lingered. Falling into something more blank like the emotions from seconds before were siphoned by their collective horde of ever-waiting demons. Why wouldn't she come? Their victory was awarded. Ascendancy gave him permission to leave. More, the arrangements would be made as soon as Jensen was found. Probably should send Danjou some kind of message regarding the departure. Probably while he was killing time on the plane. Midair was about as boring an existence as possible. Luckily, civilian planes were comfortable as any bed. Even the worst seat in coach was a thousand times better than rapid descent in a cargo plane packed in like sardines, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back on metal benches.
Not only did Natalie keep her distance, her expression shifted like gears grinding to a halt. Jay swallowed, eyes wide, chest tightening. She just stared, expectant, studious. But cold. Dismissive. She hadn't wanted involved. He shouldn't have gone to her. The idea of going to Iowa disgusted her. Not that he blamed her. His little middle of the nowhere county he called home was about as opposite as Moscow as possible. Even the charm and history of Sierra Leone, bloody as it was, was absent in Iowa. Corn, unions, and hicks were the culture of the country. It was home, and he felt a connection to that landscape bred by generations of Carpenters pouring their sweat and blood into the soil, even as he yearned to escape that flat, green horizon. Escaped he had, only to find blood and regret the uniform of today. Only, he didn't regret leaving. He regretted the motives, ashamed of the excitement of the job offer with the Legion. He might have found work just as stable in Des Moines, maybe. The city was rife with unemployment and Jay's particular set of skills weren't in high demand. That was the story he told himself, anyway. If he was a mall cop, an armored truck guard, or a bank officer, all of it, any of it, he'd have shot himself by now. And what the hell good could he do for Cayli dead? Same could be said of literally walking into firefights in Freetown. But at least in Freetown he had a chance. Hell of a chance. He was a rifleman after all, a soldier, an operator. Now, a channeler. There were few men alive that could do what he did and walk away with a shred of morality in tact. He was a good man. A good man that needed to do something bigger than farming.
Or so the story he told himself went.
She spoke, breathless, like putting speech to thoughts made them all the more real. "I only lie to myself, Natalie,"
he responded in like kind.
His shoulders sank as he scrubbed his hair and turned away. How to explain? She'd never forget that meeting her was for a job. Would she always see him as a job? An obligation? Is that why she was in the room? Solicitation and a sense of obligation?
"You know, nobody paid me to run into those tunnels to find you."
He said it harsher than he meant to. He hadn't meant to wound her, but the defensiveness cut to the heart of nastier wounds. Ones vulnerable to being split open again. Blood pooling at their feet, Jay grimaced. Dammit. I've screwed it up.
He turned back and went to her, blue eyes glistening with fervor that she understand. He wanted to grip her hands again, but the snap of her previous retraction was a fresh memory he wasn't keen to repeat any time soon.
He spoke from the heart, like the words rumbled deep from the chest, not the mouth, not the lips. His soul wanted to explain. But he was too human to convey the meaning.
"I don't think I wanted to be found, even if you had. Ascendancy was right, I need this,"
he touched his heart to the chain draping his chest. Fingertips grazed the clasp gifted by Ascendancy that secured the jacket closed.
Maybe the need was more honorable than the cynic within called it. But it was both, darkness and light at war. Maybe it was circumstance, maybe it was orchestrated. He found that he loved Africa. He loved being there, being the hero. Saving people. Saving her. There were a lot of ways to be that man. Why this way? That was the lie he told himself. He wasn't the hero.
He was the villain.
Every minute he delayed, Cayli was a minute closer to death. But he had to know. He couldn't leave the room without knowing. "What difference could you have made?"
It was a whisper, like he didn't want to know the answer.
Or worse. He feared the answer.
Feared it enough to want to run from the room.
But god help him. He didn't.
Only darkness shows you the light.