02-19-2019, 10:18 PM
He raked a hand through his hair.
Amusement drew a low laugh. It was probably unfair, but no one ever said she was a saint.
Sobriety punctured the next moment anyway, when the grey uniform unfurled and smoothed on the dresser behind. She tucked her legs back up and watched his expression, perhaps cataloguing some small thing to the commitment of memory.
“Yes.”
She said nothing of what it might mean for her to return to the Custody with the pin but not Brandon’s weapon, and if the thought occurred to her it was a peripheral thing. She'd made no vows. Her blood was already marked with traitorous shadows. Truth was, it was an easy promise.
Of the gun she was more blasé. “Not like I needed one before,” she said dryly, gaze following as he laid its weight on the mattress beside her. She was still working through her memory of the instinctive blend of power that had saved her and Ekene’s life in the hospital. Her job at the school had hardly warranted such protection, at least before that day. But before that. The shelter in Tanzania was a place of peace; it was why she had been unable to return after what had happened with Imani. But, as Amidah said, sometimes peace must be preserved. “I know enough.”
She watched Jay pour over maps for a while; committed what she could to her own memory, until the lines began to blur and the last remains of caffeine became little more than a dream. It would have been easy to curl up. She didn’t. But she did hover where he still studied for a moment, feeling a weight to the weapon he had given her that had little to do with the physical. “I couldn’t control the power before. Sometimes it came when I needed it, and sometimes it didn’t. It was what happened to me in the tunnels that changed it.”
It was the sort of hard truth she didn’t have any trouble in saying, even if he had trouble hearing it. Smoothness detached the words like they belonged to someone else; not out of denial, but because something had internalised. Strength could be illusory; a fortress erected through willpower. But sometimes that was all it took to become real. She wasn’t something else in the litany of things he needed to protect; that was what she wanted him to know.
“Sometimes a little darkness is what makes us what we are.” Her smirk cut like wire, sharp at the edges, and she brushed her thumb against the freshly-smoothed line of his jaw, just because she was a tease.
And because a little darkness also made it easier to see the things that shone.
Back in her room she watched the dying afternoon light and tried to convince herself to rest a while. Despite that resolution, the bed remained untouched. She sat by the window, her phone on the sill -- still glanced at from time to time, though it remained silent (of course it did). Jay’s pin rested in her palm, her fingers closed around its edges. Ludovico Einaudi pumped through earbuds, soothing out the sharpness of her thoughts.
She woke from a pillow of her folded arms, neck stiff. Darkness swathed the room now, even the last touches of summer gold long since gone. Her music had silenced. When she checked the time she swore.
She had enough of it to change and conceal the gun, then poke her head into Cayli’s room. It looked like the girl had curled up tight into the blankets, still asleep. The glass of water was empty, though.
Silence reigned in the car. She doubted Jay would want to speak, and Natalie had nothing to say. No meaningless platitudes softened the severity of the task, and she was not inclined to small talk at the best of times. She found the quiet peaceful anyway, like staring out at the still waters of a dark horizon, the shadow of tomorrow nothing more than a promise to weather later. The lull of the engine pressed the threat of sleep, or at least some half awareness, since she mostly watched the dark road sweep by and tried not to slip under the blur of city lights.
Her thoughts wandered into lucid dreaming. Maybe the faint sunburn evoked memories of Africa's heat, stinging her skin like a warning. She recalled the face of the woman who had pinched Ekene’s face with fear. What had he called her? Whatever it was, she could not shift the growth of unease as the miles ribboned beneath their wheels. The sense that she had missed something.
It startled her when the connection finally sparked, already half twisted round to the dark caverns of the car behind. “Fuck.” Urgency rippled; a rare crack of it in her usually stoic demeanour. She didn’t know if Jay had ever witnessed the restlessness of her usual sleeping patterns, or had seen her jerk like that before. But this was no phantom. She grabbed at his wrist like the word wouldn’t penetrate on its own, unthinking of the road ahead or the oncoming traffic. “Fuck, stop the car.”
Her belt slithered free before he’d fully pulled over, setting off the plaintive ding of the alarm. The wheels had barely ground to a stop before she’d flung open the passenger door. Her heart pumped in her throat, though she already knew what she was going to find. There curled up in the boot, bright hair tucked under a hood, eyes screwed shut.
Cayli.
Her thrumming heart sank at first, like the weight of the world pulled her under. It seemed impossible. Not the ruse of pillows stuffed under blankets or brazen teenage recklessness, but the why of it. She didn't look at Jay, couldn't quite finish the circle of that connection to how utterly fucked they were. God knew she didn't want to witness his expression right then.
The seconds trickled before Cayli dare peek. Understandably pale faced, though it didn't elicit much sympathy. “I feel sick.”
“How did you even get in here? The car was locked up.”
“Axel let me in.”
Silence answered, perhaps because the response was not the one she expected. Asking why subsided to a nasty taint of suspicion. Instead she directed Cayli to get out and strap into one of the seats. Voice cold. Maybe it was just the nausea, or maybe it was only a sense of victory, but Cayli did it with a surprising lack of protest. The door pulled shut behind her. From the muffled sounds within she already leaned in to fiddle with the radio, oblivious.
“I know he’s like a brother, Jay. But I am going to fucking kill him.”
Fury blistered through her chest as she slammed down the boot. She turned to rest her weight against the car, arms folded. It burned through quickly, that anger. No conflict marred her expression. Just frustration. She'd been adamant Jay would not take the risk alone, but she wasn't foolish either. The risks she allowed for herself were not extended unduly to others, particularly when those others were children. It was too late to turn back. There was no choice to be made, but it still felt like her lungs were filled with glass.
“I should have been paying attention.” The words were murmured. They were irritated. If she had agreed to stay, would she have checked Cayli’s room properly, or would Jay now be halfway to hell with his baby sister concealed unknown in the back? The level of blame was as pointless as the anger. The facts weren’t welcome, but they were what they were. She blinked, then straightened. Sickness swam faint in her stomach, recalling Jay’s words back in his room, and the weight of that pin. Resolution made her voice iron. “There's a truck stop a mile off the meeting place. We'll wait for you there.”
Amusement drew a low laugh. It was probably unfair, but no one ever said she was a saint.
Sobriety punctured the next moment anyway, when the grey uniform unfurled and smoothed on the dresser behind. She tucked her legs back up and watched his expression, perhaps cataloguing some small thing to the commitment of memory.
“Yes.”
She said nothing of what it might mean for her to return to the Custody with the pin but not Brandon’s weapon, and if the thought occurred to her it was a peripheral thing. She'd made no vows. Her blood was already marked with traitorous shadows. Truth was, it was an easy promise.
Of the gun she was more blasé. “Not like I needed one before,” she said dryly, gaze following as he laid its weight on the mattress beside her. She was still working through her memory of the instinctive blend of power that had saved her and Ekene’s life in the hospital. Her job at the school had hardly warranted such protection, at least before that day. But before that. The shelter in Tanzania was a place of peace; it was why she had been unable to return after what had happened with Imani. But, as Amidah said, sometimes peace must be preserved. “I know enough.”
She watched Jay pour over maps for a while; committed what she could to her own memory, until the lines began to blur and the last remains of caffeine became little more than a dream. It would have been easy to curl up. She didn’t. But she did hover where he still studied for a moment, feeling a weight to the weapon he had given her that had little to do with the physical. “I couldn’t control the power before. Sometimes it came when I needed it, and sometimes it didn’t. It was what happened to me in the tunnels that changed it.”
It was the sort of hard truth she didn’t have any trouble in saying, even if he had trouble hearing it. Smoothness detached the words like they belonged to someone else; not out of denial, but because something had internalised. Strength could be illusory; a fortress erected through willpower. But sometimes that was all it took to become real. She wasn’t something else in the litany of things he needed to protect; that was what she wanted him to know.
“Sometimes a little darkness is what makes us what we are.” Her smirk cut like wire, sharp at the edges, and she brushed her thumb against the freshly-smoothed line of his jaw, just because she was a tease.
And because a little darkness also made it easier to see the things that shone.
***
Back in her room she watched the dying afternoon light and tried to convince herself to rest a while. Despite that resolution, the bed remained untouched. She sat by the window, her phone on the sill -- still glanced at from time to time, though it remained silent (of course it did). Jay’s pin rested in her palm, her fingers closed around its edges. Ludovico Einaudi pumped through earbuds, soothing out the sharpness of her thoughts.
She woke from a pillow of her folded arms, neck stiff. Darkness swathed the room now, even the last touches of summer gold long since gone. Her music had silenced. When she checked the time she swore.
She had enough of it to change and conceal the gun, then poke her head into Cayli’s room. It looked like the girl had curled up tight into the blankets, still asleep. The glass of water was empty, though.
***
Silence reigned in the car. She doubted Jay would want to speak, and Natalie had nothing to say. No meaningless platitudes softened the severity of the task, and she was not inclined to small talk at the best of times. She found the quiet peaceful anyway, like staring out at the still waters of a dark horizon, the shadow of tomorrow nothing more than a promise to weather later. The lull of the engine pressed the threat of sleep, or at least some half awareness, since she mostly watched the dark road sweep by and tried not to slip under the blur of city lights.
Her thoughts wandered into lucid dreaming. Maybe the faint sunburn evoked memories of Africa's heat, stinging her skin like a warning. She recalled the face of the woman who had pinched Ekene’s face with fear. What had he called her? Whatever it was, she could not shift the growth of unease as the miles ribboned beneath their wheels. The sense that she had missed something.
It startled her when the connection finally sparked, already half twisted round to the dark caverns of the car behind. “Fuck.” Urgency rippled; a rare crack of it in her usually stoic demeanour. She didn’t know if Jay had ever witnessed the restlessness of her usual sleeping patterns, or had seen her jerk like that before. But this was no phantom. She grabbed at his wrist like the word wouldn’t penetrate on its own, unthinking of the road ahead or the oncoming traffic. “Fuck, stop the car.”
Her belt slithered free before he’d fully pulled over, setting off the plaintive ding of the alarm. The wheels had barely ground to a stop before she’d flung open the passenger door. Her heart pumped in her throat, though she already knew what she was going to find. There curled up in the boot, bright hair tucked under a hood, eyes screwed shut.
Cayli.
Her thrumming heart sank at first, like the weight of the world pulled her under. It seemed impossible. Not the ruse of pillows stuffed under blankets or brazen teenage recklessness, but the why of it. She didn't look at Jay, couldn't quite finish the circle of that connection to how utterly fucked they were. God knew she didn't want to witness his expression right then.
The seconds trickled before Cayli dare peek. Understandably pale faced, though it didn't elicit much sympathy. “I feel sick.”
“How did you even get in here? The car was locked up.”
“Axel let me in.”
Silence answered, perhaps because the response was not the one she expected. Asking why subsided to a nasty taint of suspicion. Instead she directed Cayli to get out and strap into one of the seats. Voice cold. Maybe it was just the nausea, or maybe it was only a sense of victory, but Cayli did it with a surprising lack of protest. The door pulled shut behind her. From the muffled sounds within she already leaned in to fiddle with the radio, oblivious.
“I know he’s like a brother, Jay. But I am going to fucking kill him.”
Fury blistered through her chest as she slammed down the boot. She turned to rest her weight against the car, arms folded. It burned through quickly, that anger. No conflict marred her expression. Just frustration. She'd been adamant Jay would not take the risk alone, but she wasn't foolish either. The risks she allowed for herself were not extended unduly to others, particularly when those others were children. It was too late to turn back. There was no choice to be made, but it still felt like her lungs were filled with glass.
“I should have been paying attention.” The words were murmured. They were irritated. If she had agreed to stay, would she have checked Cayli’s room properly, or would Jay now be halfway to hell with his baby sister concealed unknown in the back? The level of blame was as pointless as the anger. The facts weren’t welcome, but they were what they were. She blinked, then straightened. Sickness swam faint in her stomach, recalling Jay’s words back in his room, and the weight of that pin. Resolution made her voice iron. “There's a truck stop a mile off the meeting place. We'll wait for you there.”