Hullo Sparks!
Great to be back.
Here we have things moving along again at last. I mean the interrogation was good, but it took 2 whole weeks to get through. Seriously…
As for the story - long post, short intro. Enjoy.
INDEX | Chapter 6 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 & 6 | Scene 7 - 9 | Next Scene →
Previously: Misty wins the terrible duel with Luke and forces his mind from hers but it takes a dreadful toll on them both. Logan feels lost when she turns to Tom for comfort instead of him and not having any idea how to help Luke out of his catatonic state, he turns to the only people he can think of who might have any idea what to do now, the Planetary Guard. Now Luke is gone and the boys are alone in a powderkeg of emotional strain, all it’ll take to ignite into pure disaster is a match…
“You called Morgan?!” Tom bellows as he bursts into the Library, where I’m building a fire.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I mutter, too exhausted to challenge his accusation while stacking the logs.
“You DON’T call the damned PLANETARY GUARD, you idiot!” He shouts, waving his hands in the air and stomping his feet before plopping down into the plush white leather, probably out of sheer emotional exhaustion as well.
I calmy stack the last few boughs over the kindling and grab the matches as he rants and raves. It’s good to see him expressing himself where he is usually so self-contained.
“Can we please, not fight? It’s been a long day.” I make my quiet request, fussing absently with the fire, too ashamed of myself to face him. I adjust a few logs, restack some fallen kindling, and add a little more eco-accelerant as I try to explain, “I’ve been beating myself up about it since I made the call, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Luke told me this morning that if he didn’t get back to them soon they were going to storm the house. You saw how they pitched up here, all decked out for war… What was I supposed to do? Luke…” I pause to strike a match which flares hotly before fizzling out. “You didn’t see the state of him. He was on another plain, he was so far gone. He was completely unresponsive, I had to carry him down the stairs and to his bed. I thought he needed help, that he might be dying. And with Elle the way she is-”
“I don’t want to talk about Elle.” He snaps sharply, cutting me off before I can continue.
His tone is laced with bitter anger. I knew he’d be unhappy about what we did. I knew it would be a point of contention. I knew, but there wasn’t time to think.
I strike another match and hold it quickly to the kindling, waiting for it to take before timidly asking, “How is she?” I am desperate to know but wary of how Tom might react if I push since he has suddenly decided to wear his heart on his sleeve. He takes a deep breath and I sense another flash of anger, but after a moment he seems to shut down.
“I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” He repeats.
“I know you’re mad.” I turn to look at him.
He returns my stare blankly for a few seconds then does a sort of half-smile thing, "Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He huffs, “Talk?” He asks with one brow arched then says quietly, “I’d sooner knock your block off,” and grinds his teeth as he looks at his clenched fists.
I take a moment to think. The threat is all the more menacing for being softly spoken, but he came here for a reason. It can’t just have been to chew me out over calling the PG. He must want to know. He does deserve an explanation, he deserves to know this story as I do. I can’t imagine why Luke thought it would be better to keep him out of it. When exactly did we start excluding him? It was during that year with Cathy…
It looks like he might be ready to let me come clean. I sit down beside him, scratch the stubble on my cheeks and sigh, “I don’t even know where to start-”
“Then don’t.” He snaps abruptly then hops up, muttering, “It won’t change anything,” on his way to the door.
As the paralyzing ache slowly fades, the paranoia becomes maddening, and it drives me into the nearest corner, where they won’t be able to take me from behind.
What if Luke did something? What if he changed something? How would I know? Could he have put some ‘thing’ inside my mind that would allow him to bypass my defenses the way James could? Luke is by no means an ordinary head hacker. The way he absorbed my past, the way he soaked in such a large chunk of my life in those few seconds. It was so random, I doubt he got any single whole memory aside from the one I gave him. I wonder what he will make of it all. What kind of picture will he paint out of the fragments?
Sleep eludes me and I can’t eat, and there’s another unexpected side effect.
Tom comes often. At least a few times a day. He brings me fruit and meat and milk, trying anything to see what I will take. When he’s here he talks, a lot more than he ever used to. I hide in my corner, with my head between my knees, moving as little as possible.
“The milk is good. Thank you, Tom,” I mutter on the second day without giving it a single thought. I straighten up to look at him, and then slap my hand over my mouth, realizing what just happened. Tom smiles at first, accepting my thanks graciously, but then his frown mirrors mine. Was that what my voice? Did I just - speak?
When I try again it’s like it always is. The sentences shatter when I try to put the words together. When I focus too hard on holding onto one word, I get that sting and it won’t form on my lips.
After a little while, I settle back down and Tom goes about his business, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The last time I spoke like that was so long ago.
“I’ll kill you for what you’ve done… Die… Sir!” I remember the feeling. James compelling me to speak the offending words over and over even after I had lost the will. Teag slapping me every time. James intensified the sensations, solidifying the association. Eventually, I lost the will to challenge it. Eventually, it didn’t matter anymore.
The last time I spoke without thinking about it, was before that day. That terrible, worst of days… Just what did Luke do to me?
* * *
“Good morning Elle, any requests for breakfast?” Tom asks cordially the next day when he finds me where he left me, still huddled in my dim corner.
“Orange juice, please,” rolls off my tongue like syrup, and it doesn’t even hurt. Once again surprised by the sound of my own voice, I take a moment to think about it. I didn’t think. That’s the trick. “Tom,” I call out later when he walks by for no particular reason. “Chrys,” I whisper when I’m alone later still. Temporary.
The more I think about it the more I wonder if it’ll stay, if I will keep saying things, if I will keep being able to, but the next day, when Tom asks how I am feeling, “Not good, maybe a little better,” tumbles across my mind, not out my mouth. And as the terrible lethargy fades and I start to feel more like myself it gets harder to think in full sentences, and making sounds gets harder still.
* * *
For a long, long time, I’m trapped in the grips of that memory. It’s amazing how much energy grief consumes.
Chrys is dead.
She’s really dead.
The link snapped. Our link was supposed to connect us no matter what, forever. And now I can’t feel her. She’s gone, forever. I will never see her alive again. She is gone.
I keep seeing her there in the snow. That gaping hole. Half her abdomen blown away along with her horse’s head and half of one wing. There was not much she could have done. Starling was still so young, even though she was fast, she was ungainly with two riders and our sack of provisions. Chrys couldn’t completely evade the blast in time. All she could do was turn to catch it broadside and avoid us both getting blasted. But why save me? If she had turned the other way, let it hit me instead, she would have saved Starling, and they might have made it.
Now she’s dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The word repeats like a heartbeat in my mind, refreshing the agony each time, pulsing through my veins, and then it starts all over again.
I could stay here hiding forever. I could waste away and join Chrys and it would all be over. I could suppress my energy and be consumed by my own power and find my end by choice. But she begged me to go on. She sacrificed herself for my sake. For the sake of our purpose. To set our plan for the future of Telera in motion.
I can’t die yet.
* * *
Keeping track of time the way they do makes things simpler. A week passes before I am finally able to stand without falling over, though I’m still very dizzy. But by then it takes all my control and discipline, just to suppress the glow on my skin.
“Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.” The jingle plays on the little music box Tom brought me, “A radio,” he called it, “to break the silence.”
The silence was better. The curtain is drawn. The gloom helps with the headache, I think, but it might just be that my body is hurting more than my head. I release a little energy. It is nowhere near enough to ease the ache. I release a little more, concentrating on the weight of my body, a fraction more and I start to levitate, a fingerspan off of the carpet, then I push to my feet. It’s good to feel light again.
I release a little more, holding the glow on my skin, and make myself move in the direction of the gym…
“…start all over again…”
* * *
Tom shows me how to work the treadmill. It’s the best thing ever. I set it to an incline, at a good brisk pace, looking out of the full-length windows at the sea of tall tall trees and I let my mind go where it wants to. It feels like I am running away from here. It feels like I am running towards a future free of hackers, free of trainers, free of trust, and all the pain it brings with it.
This is all I need. This is all the freedom I deserve. I should have run away from here the first chance I got. I should never have given myself the chance to trust them. I stayed so I could learn about their world, but with all I know now, I know that I have no good options on my own. I should never have let myself get into this situation! Teag always said, "Trust will break you. Compassion will only tear you down." He was right.
I can't stand it! I just want to block it out, Teag, TTH, Logan, Luke, all of it... but my body is burning. I could run away, but what then?
I’m hurting, from Penance, from the hack, from the memories, and my focus is shattered. Scenes keep replaying in my head, and it just won't end. I see all the things Luke saw, more clearly, more intensely because I remember every detail with crystal clarity thanks to James and his tricks.
I watch my mother, Kayten and I baking cookies, smelling the sugar, feeling the texture of the dough as I press the cutter through and roll away the excess.
I see Teag standing in the doorway of my cell, just before I explode for the first time, right down to the stickiness of the filthy rag they gave me for a blanket.
I feel the same pity I felt for the other Talented children in TTH's gym, as their trainers pushed them and Teag pushed me. The cool metal of the bars. The slight give of the thin padding on the floor.
I reach down as Chrystelle falls back inside TTH's walls, and fresh tears dry on my cheeks.
I smell the trees and the snow as Logan, Luke, and Thomas run toward where I am hiding in the woods, and I wake up desperate and terrified in their too-brightly-lit ship, covered in bandages, thinking my father was the one holding my hand.
I feel it all as if for the first time. All the sensations, the smells, the sounds, as if I’m right there, even though I’m rooted by the belt under my feet. It’s overwhelming.
Time passes in a blur. I can't stomach the food, it was always weird. Too many flavors at once, badly blended and matched, I can't force it down my throat anymore, even though I feel my body weakening by the hour from lack of nourishment because orange juice and milk can only provide so much.
Thomas keeps his distance but he never leaves me alone for long. He is always there, watching me, waiting for something to change. I let him. His soft and gentle manner keeps him at the edge of my vision, and when my mind is clear, which isn't often, I watch him as well. I learn all that he would teach me as he sits there near the door and slowly, fury turns to fascination and curiosity burns hotter than rage.
His brown eyes are the color of the trees on the winter side of Telera, his hair shines copper and bronze in the sunlight. He is more powerful than Logan: his energy burns hotter, his control over it, even at a distance is incredible, and his warmth is lasting so that everything he touches holds a trace of it for a while afterward. His whole persona is colored with kindness, but he is indecisive, he watches without acting until action comes to nothing. His one flaw was that he will never act first, only react to the actions of others. He will never make the first move.
All this I contemplate as I run. My mind is so busy that I hardly notice when my feet start to falter. I can’t stop myself from falling when everything goes black. I’m hungry…
* * *
I wake up, back in bed, feeling refreshed. Tom is sitting at my bedside like Logan used to. He says it has been sixteen days since they bound me in that small, doorless, room. I eat the meal he brought, trying not to notice the taste and texture, just sustenance. Tom smiles and for a moment the planet stops turning as I bathe in his warmth, almost convincing myself that he can’t possibly ever betray me. Then it speeds up again and I put that kind of thinking out of my head.
* * *
I’ve never really given much thought to the future. All my life, there was always a plan for me, a plotted-out course that was taken for granted that I would just go along with. I never thought about it. I never thought I would ever have any choices…
I am alone again. Tom is furious, and Elle is distraught. For the first week, she won’t leave her room. She won’t eat. She just huddles in the corner, sobbing most of the day. Where before, my presence comforted her somewhat, now it seems worse when I’m close so I stay away, trying not to go crazy.
I’ve not been able to get hold of General Morgan.
My brother hates me for the fact that Luke is still gone and my role in bringing Elle this low. He is probably right to. I see him do his inept best to comfort her, even though he has never shown anything but disdain for her care and training. He was not made for care work. I admire his tenacity, even though he is clearly struggling. I know that in his own way, Tom loves Elle, just like me. She gave us purpose and direction during a time when we had none. She lit up our lives with her rare smile and gentle presence.
I avoid the gym, hoping she might go back if there’s no pressure. Tom will be taking some time off, so I move my own training to the club and run outdoors whenever it’s practical. It’s started to thaw out at least, little sprigs of green popping out everywhere and the February sun shining brightly. At least she didn’t run.
Next time… It’s been over two weeks since Luke was taken away by the PG. Elle is recovering but Logan seems lost without his brother. Will Luke ever come back?
Thanks so much for reading! If you like, please:
Or better yet:
and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:
P.S.
Wow, you laid out a lot of goodies in these scenes, more than I expected. Even not knowing what is going on with Luke in PG custody, it seems, as much as I hate to admit it, that Luke did Misty a pretty big favor by forcing her to now take stock of some critical memories while reviewing what Luke had extracted. She now has a possible key to breaking out of the restraints that James had put in place. The better she manages to control her own thoughts and rage, the better she can communicate. She has also identified an exploitable weakness in Tom that might prove useful I think!
And now we know that she and Chrys had broken away from TCH for a cause that was not likely what James and Teag were conditioning them for, but was some heroic effort to save her home planet from what we don't know. We seem to be coming closer to the edge of a major development, which is exciting but quite scary also! Easy does it Misty!
I also loved the ironic symbolism with the matches and the fire that Logan was trying to build during the exchange with Tom, (oh yea, wink wink)
" rolls off my tongue like syrup, " ...I love this! Your imagery gets better with every entry :)