09-19-2018, 08:01 PM
Azu always hated the way she drove; that reckless combination of too much speed and too loose a grip on the steering, even on unfamiliar roads. Once the highway opened up like a straight arrow, Natalie used her knees to balance the wheel, one hand guiding from her lap. The other propped her head, pale hair streaming in the cracked window. Music rippled from the radio, the twang of whatever station Jay had set it last. She was quiet inside.
There were already two missed calls on her wallet, both anonymous, so by now her father clearly realised she no longer had his device in her possession. That meant Jay had definitely used it to reach out, a consideration she chose to let sink from view as soon as it occurred to her. He'd had no right to do that.
And surely, surely he must realise how poor an idea it was, as an American defector to the CCD, to open voluntarily channels of communication with a convicted terrorist.
Other than that the tech reigned silent, broken only by the muted directions from the satnav. Natalie was glad of it, though realistically Cayli was the only one likely to note her departure. Assuming her mother hadn't confiscated her wallet entirely she was also the only one Natalie would expect to hear from. She could have assayed any fears of abandonment by leaving a message in the first place, but truthfully she planned to be back before nightfall. Enough time for peace without the claustrophobic cage of four walls, and far away from the temptation of stone cold stupor.
But speed and distance seeded doubt.
After this morning, Cayli knew enough for Natalie to have technically fulfilled her promise. Jay's family made it clear she was not welcome, and even Jay himself made the division brutally plain (don't think about it). It was not like Natalie cared what people thought of her; walls of apathy tipped a gentle shrug against the knowledge that she was outright disliked. That, she could deal with. But with Jay she had made a mistake, finally realised.
When he joked about bringing her home, she had recoiled warily at the insinuation of something more than an ephemeral kiss, and thought those walls unbreeched. But despite best intentions a chink of that beguiling softness slipped in, and something had grown in the hollow space. Something like hope, small and strained as new shoots in barren land. Vulnerable, too.
So terribly foolish. Hindsight brought a touch of winter to that green place. She was glad she couldn't remember exactly what she'd told him about what she felt.
He left you on the bathroom floor, Natalie. Went straight to the arms of the woman he'd planned to marry.
She twisted the knife in her own chest often enough on that journey. Until numbness replaced the pain. She didn't blame him, not really. Though he could have at least been honest before she'd made an idiot of herself.
She flicked the volume up, swallowing the thoughts.
She could just go back to the Custody at this point. It was unlikely Jay would abandon his duties, and if he kept to his word Brandon would have no reason to punish her. She didn't covet the Ascendancy's trust. She didn't care that her family's carefully laid plans would smoke like ash should she burn these bridges in escape. It would actually be simple to divert for the airport instead; less than twenty minutes separated it from the park that was her destination. No one would stop her; in fact she was sure the ending would be quiet, with not even an echo of its passing. A relief for all involved. Except sheer stubbornness galled her from the finality of such a decision, digging her heels tight against expectation of the easy path.
She wouldn't walk away, because that was precisely what it felt like she should do. Jay didn't get to make that decision for her, no matter who he chose to share his bed.
Cayli deserved better than that.
Natalie sat for a while after she parked up, listening to the engine pop and cool. The file spread across her lap as though new answers might elucidate upon a second sort through the information, but all it actually did was make her feel like she drowned. Who ordered the strike? Who stood to lose or gain from the mission's failure or success? All men had a price, and all men had secrets. Someone had wanted Andres alive, and perhaps that someone may be leveraged.
Because there was no hope of parlaying with Zacarias (although, against her better judgement, she even considered it). She'd seen in gruesome detail what Jay had done to Andres Amengual's chest. There was no scope for forgiveness there.
Ryker? Perhaps the last pair of hands she would trust with Cayli's life, but he was clearly involved -- and had both Zacarias' and Nikolai's ear. A Custody man, which should have made him an ally. And all men had their price. But the twist of Nikolai's smile left an ill feeling her stomach. A warning she heeded.
What a mess.
She signed sharply, realising only by chance then that the pages of the dossier were numbered and that page five was missing. Not one of the pages she'd destroyed, she did not think; those clustered together. It was gone, or it had never been there. Though either way it was becoming clear how little she could do to help, whatever information lay gifted in her lap. Futility pinched her brow. She slammed everything away, and got out.
The sun peeked shy warmth; summer's guilty face after last night's storm.
A trail curved around the swell of the lake, crushed rock marking the path sweeping in and out of the tree line. From the map she could see it sandwiched between the river from whence the park got its name on its winding journey. An artificial beach. A flat grey nature lodge. Wildlife and dirt were not her natural allies, but she'd wanted somewhere without the temptation of a bar. Music lulling her ears, she followed the crunch of the path. Scrubby grass followed alongside, and on the dark blue stretch of the large lake kayaks bobbed about in the distance, even further out the length of a pier strung with fishing lines. She wandered for a while, enjoying the soft warmth on her skin, until she found a picnic bench shadowed by the limbs of trees.
She sat, flattening the crumpled scrap of paper from her pocket. If she called the number she would be consenting to playing her father's game, a risk she was flatly unwilling to take. It'd be a first step in closing the distance, forgiveness she was too cold to give. In case of fire break glass, indeed. A sick joke; one she imagined he thought might elicit a small, grim smirk. They shared those morbid threads of humour; always had, to her mother's horror.
She'd nearly died in that fire.
Her eyes half lidded, sorting through her thoughts. When she'd received this information her father did not know she was hours away from journeying to the States. This was not to help her circumstances now, so why had he sent it at all? By the unpolished presentation, it was a last minute addition. Hindsight or second thought.
A search of the name brought up nothing of note. No links to the Amenguals, and no hits against the ball's guest list either. The number turned out to be for a pharmaceutical company. She browsed its website, unsure what she was really looking for. Nothing made sense. This shiny corporate world was a universe away from a Central American drug lord and a black listed mission. Natalie leaned away from the assumption her father had made anything so mundane as a mistake, but the links here evaded her.
Then she happened upon a photograph; a clustered group of professional men and women that the tag denoted as the company's board of directors. And one man in particular tickled an entirely unrelated memory; dark hair, smug expression, arms folded.
It was Cayli's doctor.
There were already two missed calls on her wallet, both anonymous, so by now her father clearly realised she no longer had his device in her possession. That meant Jay had definitely used it to reach out, a consideration she chose to let sink from view as soon as it occurred to her. He'd had no right to do that.
And surely, surely he must realise how poor an idea it was, as an American defector to the CCD, to open voluntarily channels of communication with a convicted terrorist.
Other than that the tech reigned silent, broken only by the muted directions from the satnav. Natalie was glad of it, though realistically Cayli was the only one likely to note her departure. Assuming her mother hadn't confiscated her wallet entirely she was also the only one Natalie would expect to hear from. She could have assayed any fears of abandonment by leaving a message in the first place, but truthfully she planned to be back before nightfall. Enough time for peace without the claustrophobic cage of four walls, and far away from the temptation of stone cold stupor.
But speed and distance seeded doubt.
After this morning, Cayli knew enough for Natalie to have technically fulfilled her promise. Jay's family made it clear she was not welcome, and even Jay himself made the division brutally plain (don't think about it). It was not like Natalie cared what people thought of her; walls of apathy tipped a gentle shrug against the knowledge that she was outright disliked. That, she could deal with. But with Jay she had made a mistake, finally realised.
When he joked about bringing her home, she had recoiled warily at the insinuation of something more than an ephemeral kiss, and thought those walls unbreeched. But despite best intentions a chink of that beguiling softness slipped in, and something had grown in the hollow space. Something like hope, small and strained as new shoots in barren land. Vulnerable, too.
So terribly foolish. Hindsight brought a touch of winter to that green place. She was glad she couldn't remember exactly what she'd told him about what she felt.
He left you on the bathroom floor, Natalie. Went straight to the arms of the woman he'd planned to marry.
She twisted the knife in her own chest often enough on that journey. Until numbness replaced the pain. She didn't blame him, not really. Though he could have at least been honest before she'd made an idiot of herself.
She flicked the volume up, swallowing the thoughts.
She could just go back to the Custody at this point. It was unlikely Jay would abandon his duties, and if he kept to his word Brandon would have no reason to punish her. She didn't covet the Ascendancy's trust. She didn't care that her family's carefully laid plans would smoke like ash should she burn these bridges in escape. It would actually be simple to divert for the airport instead; less than twenty minutes separated it from the park that was her destination. No one would stop her; in fact she was sure the ending would be quiet, with not even an echo of its passing. A relief for all involved. Except sheer stubbornness galled her from the finality of such a decision, digging her heels tight against expectation of the easy path.
She wouldn't walk away, because that was precisely what it felt like she should do. Jay didn't get to make that decision for her, no matter who he chose to share his bed.
Cayli deserved better than that.
Natalie sat for a while after she parked up, listening to the engine pop and cool. The file spread across her lap as though new answers might elucidate upon a second sort through the information, but all it actually did was make her feel like she drowned. Who ordered the strike? Who stood to lose or gain from the mission's failure or success? All men had a price, and all men had secrets. Someone had wanted Andres alive, and perhaps that someone may be leveraged.
Because there was no hope of parlaying with Zacarias (although, against her better judgement, she even considered it). She'd seen in gruesome detail what Jay had done to Andres Amengual's chest. There was no scope for forgiveness there.
Ryker? Perhaps the last pair of hands she would trust with Cayli's life, but he was clearly involved -- and had both Zacarias' and Nikolai's ear. A Custody man, which should have made him an ally. And all men had their price. But the twist of Nikolai's smile left an ill feeling her stomach. A warning she heeded.
What a mess.
She signed sharply, realising only by chance then that the pages of the dossier were numbered and that page five was missing. Not one of the pages she'd destroyed, she did not think; those clustered together. It was gone, or it had never been there. Though either way it was becoming clear how little she could do to help, whatever information lay gifted in her lap. Futility pinched her brow. She slammed everything away, and got out.
The sun peeked shy warmth; summer's guilty face after last night's storm.
A trail curved around the swell of the lake, crushed rock marking the path sweeping in and out of the tree line. From the map she could see it sandwiched between the river from whence the park got its name on its winding journey. An artificial beach. A flat grey nature lodge. Wildlife and dirt were not her natural allies, but she'd wanted somewhere without the temptation of a bar. Music lulling her ears, she followed the crunch of the path. Scrubby grass followed alongside, and on the dark blue stretch of the large lake kayaks bobbed about in the distance, even further out the length of a pier strung with fishing lines. She wandered for a while, enjoying the soft warmth on her skin, until she found a picnic bench shadowed by the limbs of trees.
She sat, flattening the crumpled scrap of paper from her pocket. If she called the number she would be consenting to playing her father's game, a risk she was flatly unwilling to take. It'd be a first step in closing the distance, forgiveness she was too cold to give. In case of fire break glass, indeed. A sick joke; one she imagined he thought might elicit a small, grim smirk. They shared those morbid threads of humour; always had, to her mother's horror.
She'd nearly died in that fire.
Her eyes half lidded, sorting through her thoughts. When she'd received this information her father did not know she was hours away from journeying to the States. This was not to help her circumstances now, so why had he sent it at all? By the unpolished presentation, it was a last minute addition. Hindsight or second thought.
A search of the name brought up nothing of note. No links to the Amenguals, and no hits against the ball's guest list either. The number turned out to be for a pharmaceutical company. She browsed its website, unsure what she was really looking for. Nothing made sense. This shiny corporate world was a universe away from a Central American drug lord and a black listed mission. Natalie leaned away from the assumption her father had made anything so mundane as a mistake, but the links here evaded her.
Then she happened upon a photograph; a clustered group of professional men and women that the tag denoted as the company's board of directors. And one man in particular tickled an entirely unrelated memory; dark hair, smug expression, arms folded.
It was Cayli's doctor.