Dec 31, 2018 15:04:05 GMT
CBE-177/"Anna" likes this
Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2018 15:04:05 GMT
The others were dead. She was sure of that. When she'd first arrived here, in this hellish place, there had been others, women and a few men. She had heard them, from her cell, weeping or screaming throughout the day and night. Gradually the noise had quieted. Now it was gone.
She'd spent the night in the cage they'd built for her in the center if the lab. There were other cages here, but hers was special: steel bars as thick as her wrist, set feet deep into a concrete pedestal that she wasn't sure she could break even at full strength, which she wasn't. They rationed her blood intake, giving her just enough to keep her from falling into a rage. She was hungry, and weak. Small as she was, she was still too long to stretch to her full length in the cage. The door of the lab clicked open. She looked up, face carefully blank even has her heart began pounding inside her. It was him. Matsushita. He pushed a stainless steel trolley in front of him, with a box on it that she couldn't see into.
He was a small man, only a few inches taller than her, thin, with a prominent chin and a wisp of white beard at the end of it. Thick, round glasses gave him a fish-eyed look, and he smiled a thin, condescending smile all the time.
"Good morning, 177," he said in his lightly accented Russian. "I hope you are not uncomfortable." She stared at him. She felt absolutely nothing. Fear and anticipation had long since ceased to come to her with Matsushita. What would happen, would happen, and she for all her power could do nothing. He was a force, not a man, a storm before which she could only cower. "I have made plans for today, very big plans."
Her mind began to recede, her awareness of the world around her collapsing to a point. When the pain came it would roll around, wash over her and leave her mind, as far as could be, untouched. While her body suffered she could place herself far away. Not enough to avoid the pain. Not enough to make it nothing. But enough that it wouldn't pierce her and destroy her. They had done so much to her. Training at first, torture at last. Pain and degradation, her body pressed to the point of death. But gradually she had learned to adapt even to this. Steel had grown inside her, a strength that had nothing to do with powers. Whatever they would do to her, she could stand it. Whatever was going to happen, she would come through. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Matsushita. Another day to survive.
The door opened again. Three soldiers came in pushing a steel table with chains welded to the corners. She looked at it, then looked back at him. Matsushita had turned and opened the box and was setting items on the table he had brought in. Scalpel. Forceps. A saw.
She glanced at the table the three soldiers were locking into place. For the first time a tremor of doubt took her. She looked at Matsushita again. He took the last tool out of his box and set it down and turned towards her. He was smiling.
"We will look inside of you." And suddenly a shaft of fear struck her deep, and something in her seemed to break and she pressed herself against the back of the cage as far away from Matsushita as possible, and her insides were melting and her legs were water and Matsushita was there, looming over her as a shadowed silhouette growing caster and vaster, and the last great dark swallowed the world-
-she slammed upright in bed, heart pound, fingers splayed ready for her claws to slash the air in front of her. And she sat, panting, as bit by bit the nightmare broke and she remembered where she was now: far away from the laboratory, a distance of both time and space, and Matsushita long dead. Only her nightmares still gave him any power. Slowly her heart steadied, and she let her claws dip down. Her head dropped onto her chest. Nightmares. Weakness. She hated it, and hated herself for experiencing it. Stop!
But it hadn't stopped, despite her wishes. She shifted her position, and a sour smell and a wet feeling reached her.
Ah. She pressed her lips together. This again. It had happened before, during the worst of her nightmares. An awkward event. One of the few times she felt relief at Coryelle's habit of spending the nights elsewhere. She stood and pulled back the covers, surveying the damage. A glance at her nightdress confirmed the problem. She let out a hiss of displeasure. She stripped the bed and held the mess of sheets away from her, giving the mass a look of distaste. Hopefully this wouldn't become a regular issue. Jack had once told her she should get something called Google sheets. She wondered if he somehow knew that this happened.
Clean sheets and a clean nightdress were in the laundry room. Holding the bedclothes at arm's length, she pushed her bedroom door open and stepped out into the hall.
The hinges creaked.
It was so pathetic. She'd sat in the old factory for hours staring at the crumbling brick walls covered in old and washed graffiti from decades past. Her core shook with a chill that sank so far into her bones she swore she'd never be able to sit still again. Her cache of 'sleeping aides' had depleted a handful of nights ago and she'd been taking intermittent power naps every so often during the day on park benches with headphones on so the police didn't think she was some bum and no one would go out of their way to bother her. But the use of such a temporary fix had quickly run its course.
Either she was going mad or the deprivation was getting to her more than she remembered it could. Then again, she'd always have her familiar apartment or mother at her side... So here she was, stuck in limbo, staring at the wall with the door to wait out the night as the freezing sweats came and went. Then she felt it. A wisp brushed against her neck. Fingers? No. No. No. 'Shhhh....' "NO," she croaked, standing immediately and turning to face defensively against the wall she'd just been sitting against. Nothingness; alone in an empty room shouting like a fool.
She couldn't stay there, she couldn't stay safe alone. Though she'd only been on the couch for half an hour, Nugget was already fast asleep on her chest and her eyes had begun to feel heavy in a fog. Of course, even the slightest sound of the door creaking woke her up. Coryelle sat up, eyes wide from the spook, but calmed when she saw the familiar figure. "Hey." Wait... what was-? "Anna?"
She froze. Oh no. No. It couldn't be. The other girl left every night, off to spend it in parts unknown, and this night, this night of all others, Coryelle returned here? She could hear the other girl's mockery already. Against her will, a burning sensation reached her ears. Why now? Why this night of all nights? The sheer unfairness of it all made her want to spit.
But she wouldn't give the other girl satisfaction. Making no acknowledgment of the words, she turned and opened the door that led downstairs and to the laundry.
"An-," she blinked, turning around in the couch dramatically to try and follow the woman with her head. Nugget rolled off of her lap and onto the cushion beside her as she stood up to follow her 'teammate', exhausted but determined. "Hey," she called quietly after her, stepping into the doorway and taking a step down before reaching for her shoulder and grabbing a light hold of it. "Hey"
She altered her pace not at all when she heard Cory coming. To slow down or to hasten would be to admit the other woman's power over her. But Cory was faster. A hand came down on Anna's shoulder and she stopped. Slowly she turned to face Cory, meeting the other girl's eyes. Her expression was defiant, the wet spot on the front of her nightdress clearly visible. Go on, have your fun.
She could already smell it. It was hard not to wrinkle her nose, but when the smaller woman turned and the wet spot was... well, obvious, it was an easy confirmation. There was no teasing that remotely came to mind. Not for a second. "Hey..." her voice quieted, "I'll... get some clothes, okay? Go ahead and start the laundry," she nodded. Her hand gave a slight squeeze and she said nothing more, scrunching her mouth and turning away to walk back upstairs.
She had been braced. Mentally, physically, she had screwed herself up to face whatever storm of words or laughter would come next. Yet what came was entirely different. A sort of stillness seemed to pass through the other girl, a quiet... understanding? For a moment 177 could only stare. But it was true; the other woman was turning away even then.
Not knowing what else to do, she continued downstairs.
She emptied the dryer into the basket and the washing machine into the dryer and put the sheets into the washing machine, then hesitated, staring at her own nightgown. She wanted out of the thing, but Cory would be down in a minute and her modesty had become very important to her in the last few minutes. In the end modesty won and she seated herself on top of the washing machine, waiting for Cory to appear. The expression on her face was guarded.
She didn't even truly think about it. Maybe she was too tired or maybe that's just who she was. Probably a bit of both. A pair of basketball shorts, clean underwear, and a loose, comfortable T-shirt later, Coryelle was headed back down to the basement and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Here you go. Um..." she scratched at the back of her head, voice and demeanor still soft. "Why don't you change and I can uh... I'll get us some water?"
She rose from her seat on the washing machine, facing Cory full-on. The expression on her face was contemplative. She took the offered clothes, then hesitated. She felt the need to do something to express her gratitude. If she had had words she would have used them-but she had none, and her phone was still on the table by her bed. She could not even mouth a simple "Thank you". She had never spoken a word of English; her lips and tongue were unfamiliar with the shape of words. In the end she only dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned away.
When she came into the kitchen some minutes later she had put on her baseball cap in addition to the clothes Cory had given her. In her hand she held her phone, which she extended towards Cory. Her face held the same contemplative expression.
She tapped the glass a little at the small kitchen table, both to keep her awake and out of anxiousness. She'd had her eyes half shut when she heard Anna stepping back upstairs. Her eyebrow raised a bit at the phone and she looked over to it. She saw a few words... 'unworthy, thank you, confess, ashamed, thank you again,' eh. She waved it off and shook her head. "It's nothing..." she shrugged tiredly and took a sip of her water. The other glass sat across from her. "...Hungry?"
She wasn't hungry. She shook her head at the question, then stood with it tilted, a questioning expression on her face. After a moment she took out her phone and began writing.
Cory was rubbing her eyes after she'd seen the head shake, trying to sharpen herself up. She hadn't seen the phone initially, so leaned with an minorly apologetic expression to read it. "I have my own place to sleep," she shrugged. 'Have' and 'own' were strong words. Her sleepiness helped hide the half-fib. "Don't want your water?"
She took the water, but didn't drink it. She was gripped by an irrational fear that to drink was to invite disaster- that another nightmare would bring about a repeat of the events earlier tonight.
Cory drank the rest of hers rather quickly, a bit thirstier than she'd realized. She leaned over again to see the phone, thinning her sleepy eyes to focus on the small letters. Her face feel into a tired, energy-less expression. "No, I don't avoid staying here because I dislike you..." For some reason it felt like the whole sentence needed repeating. It mattered. A small line of fur pawed clumsily into the kitchen, a tiny mouth yawning wide, and Cory leaned down to scoop the ferret up and drape him over her shoulder where he quickly fell back to sleep. "I don't dislike you."
She studied Cory for another long moment, trying to suss out what felt like the hidden depths of the other girl's words. She felt there was more than what had been said, but she couldn't see it. She sipped absently at her water. There was more to say, she thought, but it couldn't be said tonight. Cory was too tired and having to communicate by typing was too limited. She wrote,
"Hmm? Yeah... got too tired on the way home, was closer to here..." lie. She stretched lightly and stood up to walk past her and set the glass by the sink. She'd wash it later. "But you're taking the small couch, my legs can't fit." The ferret let out another silent yawn, blinking with one eye before the other at Anna behind her.
She smiled at Cory's statement about the couch, lips parting in a silent laugh of affirmation. She finished her drink, set it by Cory's glass, and went to get herself a pillow and blanket for the couch.
But it took her a long time to get to sleep again. She stared across the room, remembering the lab, and whenever her thoughts touched on the man with the round glasses who had loomed so large over her, she shivered.
Nugget, of course, was sound asleep in seconds over Cory's chest and neck, the warmest places he could find. The girl herself was... on and off. She often woke up too hot, sweating from her forehead, but not from the tiny pack rat. Rather, from the beginning of unwelcome dreams that started creeping in. Eventually, after a combined few hours of sleep, she woke early in the morning and headed to the kitchen. The home filled soon with smells of fresh-baked goods and griddled bacon.
She had rarely been a heavy sleeper and when Cory entered the kitchen she awoke long enough to ascertain there was no threat and go back to sleep. When she woke again the room had acquired the odor of cooking meat. She sat up, rubbing her eyes before she stood and padded on silent feet into the kitchen. She stood and watched for a minute before typing and then tapping Cory's shoulder to hand her the phone with a smile.
She walked over to the fridge, taking one of her juice boxes of blood out of the lower drawer and popping it in the microwave to warm it up.
Her reactions weren't nearly as sharp, dulled and lethargic from her restless week (weeks?). So when the hand tapped on her shoulder, it became quickly evident to her that she'd been cooking like a zombie. She jumped, gasping in quietly, and flinched at the sudden spook. It was easily calmed the second she saw the familiar figure behind her with an extended phone. Cory shook her head dismissively, rather hastily removing apron to fold it up on the counter, and turned back to the frying bacon.
"Only when I'm up in the mornings. Muffins are almost done in the oven, it'll be another minute..." She wasn't exactly expecting an audience and was even less comfortable with it. Ammunition for Anna to think she was some weak softy. "You sleep?"
Anna shrugged. She hadn't slept well, but she carried it better than Cory did. Cory looked exhausted. 177 frowned, concerned. The microwave beeped and she took out her juice box and plopped herself on the counter to drink from it. Jack had been sure to include a small straw with each box of blood. Her feet dangled more than a little ways off the floor. She typed.
Bacon slid from the skillet onto two plates she'd pulled down from the cabinets, splitting the portions equally in half. The oven was next, pulling the pan out with a mitted hand and setting it safely on the stove. "They need to cool down," she exhaled, wiping her hands off on the sides of her hips. With her back still to Anna, she turned with a plate in either hand and rose an eyebrow at the phone. She sat, placing the plates on the table and leaning over her own to read the text. "Why?" She quirked, almost defensive, putting a piece of crunchy bacon in her mouth. "I'll just go sleep at my place tonight."
177 frowned, tilting her head and, if not quite drilling Cory with a stare, at least gazing with the expectation that something was missing. This whole "other place" that Cory kept talking about bothered her for some reason she couldn't quite place. Something about the way Cory spoke, a kind of stiffness in her manner.
She slid off the counter and came close to Cory, quite close, closer than was normal for personal space. She sniffed. She caught sweat and musk and mildew and Cory's personal sent, and something that she sometimes smelled in a cloud of smoke originating from brown paper cigarettes. She gave Cory a calculating look. She typed.
She expected Anna to come and eat, not loom over her like a vulture at the table. Cory remained seated, eyeballing her oddly and pulling her eyebrows together. "Uhhhh... 'scuse you? What are you doing?" the horribly close proximity and sniffing wasn't creepy at all . Her face was disgruntled, offended, and she backed away from the Russian to show her much more usual standoffish-ness around her. "It's called weed, and Jack couldn't care less thanks," she huffed in agreement, "Like you give a damn," her eyes rolled as she mumbled, chomping on a piece of bacon finally, "Would you just sit down and eat your breakfast?"
She sat down across from Cory, on the thick seat pad that Jack had put on her chair to make her a few inches taller when she sat. She took a bite of bacon, and her face showed she enjoyed the taste. For a while she simply sat and ate, wiping her fingers on a napkin when she was done. Hand on her palm she studied Cory again, face contemplative. At last she typed:
She was backing off. 'Good. Goddamn.' She ate her bacon in silence, overly tense from the simple suggestion the Russian has made. Then she just couldn't leave it be, could she? She caught all of half of the message (and most of the gist) before letting her hand fall on the table. "Seriously? Last night was an exception. One time thing. You and me-?" she motioned between them with a piece of half-eaten bacon. "We don't get along. Remember? That doesn't just change."
She stared at Cory for a long time after the words had been said. We don't get along. They stung her, deeply and unexpectedly. Certainly there had been tension between them. 177 had even had her share of fun at the other girl's expense. But to really not get along- to have it said so bluntly-
She sat, brow furrowed as she studied Cory. She'd thought, after last night, that she'd encountered some new depth of kindness in the other woman. Perhaps something to build a new friendship on. A one-time thing? Why? She saw now answer- only the closed-off face of Cory, chewing her bacon.
Suddenly she felt very alone. I'd be friends with you if I could, she thought. I'm sorry for being difficult sometimes. I didn't realize how important it would be to me not to be alone. I don't want us to sit in silence. I want to be able to talk with you. Jack's not a friend. I don't think Jack can be. I don't have any friends, if you're not one...
But she neither said nor wrote any of this, and after a while she finished her food, put her plate in the sink, and went downstairs to practice her kata.
CBE-177/"Anna"
She'd spent the night in the cage they'd built for her in the center if the lab. There were other cages here, but hers was special: steel bars as thick as her wrist, set feet deep into a concrete pedestal that she wasn't sure she could break even at full strength, which she wasn't. They rationed her blood intake, giving her just enough to keep her from falling into a rage. She was hungry, and weak. Small as she was, she was still too long to stretch to her full length in the cage. The door of the lab clicked open. She looked up, face carefully blank even has her heart began pounding inside her. It was him. Matsushita. He pushed a stainless steel trolley in front of him, with a box on it that she couldn't see into.
He was a small man, only a few inches taller than her, thin, with a prominent chin and a wisp of white beard at the end of it. Thick, round glasses gave him a fish-eyed look, and he smiled a thin, condescending smile all the time.
"Good morning, 177," he said in his lightly accented Russian. "I hope you are not uncomfortable." She stared at him. She felt absolutely nothing. Fear and anticipation had long since ceased to come to her with Matsushita. What would happen, would happen, and she for all her power could do nothing. He was a force, not a man, a storm before which she could only cower. "I have made plans for today, very big plans."
Her mind began to recede, her awareness of the world around her collapsing to a point. When the pain came it would roll around, wash over her and leave her mind, as far as could be, untouched. While her body suffered she could place herself far away. Not enough to avoid the pain. Not enough to make it nothing. But enough that it wouldn't pierce her and destroy her. They had done so much to her. Training at first, torture at last. Pain and degradation, her body pressed to the point of death. But gradually she had learned to adapt even to this. Steel had grown inside her, a strength that had nothing to do with powers. Whatever they would do to her, she could stand it. Whatever was going to happen, she would come through. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Matsushita. Another day to survive.
The door opened again. Three soldiers came in pushing a steel table with chains welded to the corners. She looked at it, then looked back at him. Matsushita had turned and opened the box and was setting items on the table he had brought in. Scalpel. Forceps. A saw.
She glanced at the table the three soldiers were locking into place. For the first time a tremor of doubt took her. She looked at Matsushita again. He took the last tool out of his box and set it down and turned towards her. He was smiling.
"We will look inside of you." And suddenly a shaft of fear struck her deep, and something in her seemed to break and she pressed herself against the back of the cage as far away from Matsushita as possible, and her insides were melting and her legs were water and Matsushita was there, looming over her as a shadowed silhouette growing caster and vaster, and the last great dark swallowed the world-
-she slammed upright in bed, heart pound, fingers splayed ready for her claws to slash the air in front of her. And she sat, panting, as bit by bit the nightmare broke and she remembered where she was now: far away from the laboratory, a distance of both time and space, and Matsushita long dead. Only her nightmares still gave him any power. Slowly her heart steadied, and she let her claws dip down. Her head dropped onto her chest. Nightmares. Weakness. She hated it, and hated herself for experiencing it. Stop!
But it hadn't stopped, despite her wishes. She shifted her position, and a sour smell and a wet feeling reached her.
Ah. She pressed her lips together. This again. It had happened before, during the worst of her nightmares. An awkward event. One of the few times she felt relief at Coryelle's habit of spending the nights elsewhere. She stood and pulled back the covers, surveying the damage. A glance at her nightdress confirmed the problem. She let out a hiss of displeasure. She stripped the bed and held the mess of sheets away from her, giving the mass a look of distaste. Hopefully this wouldn't become a regular issue. Jack had once told her she should get something called Google sheets. She wondered if he somehow knew that this happened.
Clean sheets and a clean nightdress were in the laundry room. Holding the bedclothes at arm's length, she pushed her bedroom door open and stepped out into the hall.
The hinges creaked.
It was so pathetic. She'd sat in the old factory for hours staring at the crumbling brick walls covered in old and washed graffiti from decades past. Her core shook with a chill that sank so far into her bones she swore she'd never be able to sit still again. Her cache of 'sleeping aides' had depleted a handful of nights ago and she'd been taking intermittent power naps every so often during the day on park benches with headphones on so the police didn't think she was some bum and no one would go out of their way to bother her. But the use of such a temporary fix had quickly run its course.
Either she was going mad or the deprivation was getting to her more than she remembered it could. Then again, she'd always have her familiar apartment or mother at her side... So here she was, stuck in limbo, staring at the wall with the door to wait out the night as the freezing sweats came and went. Then she felt it. A wisp brushed against her neck. Fingers? No. No. No. 'Shhhh....' "NO," she croaked, standing immediately and turning to face defensively against the wall she'd just been sitting against. Nothingness; alone in an empty room shouting like a fool.
She couldn't stay there, she couldn't stay safe alone. Though she'd only been on the couch for half an hour, Nugget was already fast asleep on her chest and her eyes had begun to feel heavy in a fog. Of course, even the slightest sound of the door creaking woke her up. Coryelle sat up, eyes wide from the spook, but calmed when she saw the familiar figure. "Hey." Wait... what was-? "Anna?"
She froze. Oh no. No. It couldn't be. The other girl left every night, off to spend it in parts unknown, and this night, this night of all others, Coryelle returned here? She could hear the other girl's mockery already. Against her will, a burning sensation reached her ears. Why now? Why this night of all nights? The sheer unfairness of it all made her want to spit.
But she wouldn't give the other girl satisfaction. Making no acknowledgment of the words, she turned and opened the door that led downstairs and to the laundry.
"An-," she blinked, turning around in the couch dramatically to try and follow the woman with her head. Nugget rolled off of her lap and onto the cushion beside her as she stood up to follow her 'teammate', exhausted but determined. "Hey," she called quietly after her, stepping into the doorway and taking a step down before reaching for her shoulder and grabbing a light hold of it. "Hey"
She altered her pace not at all when she heard Cory coming. To slow down or to hasten would be to admit the other woman's power over her. But Cory was faster. A hand came down on Anna's shoulder and she stopped. Slowly she turned to face Cory, meeting the other girl's eyes. Her expression was defiant, the wet spot on the front of her nightdress clearly visible. Go on, have your fun.
She could already smell it. It was hard not to wrinkle her nose, but when the smaller woman turned and the wet spot was... well, obvious, it was an easy confirmation. There was no teasing that remotely came to mind. Not for a second. "Hey..." her voice quieted, "I'll... get some clothes, okay? Go ahead and start the laundry," she nodded. Her hand gave a slight squeeze and she said nothing more, scrunching her mouth and turning away to walk back upstairs.
She had been braced. Mentally, physically, she had screwed herself up to face whatever storm of words or laughter would come next. Yet what came was entirely different. A sort of stillness seemed to pass through the other girl, a quiet... understanding? For a moment 177 could only stare. But it was true; the other woman was turning away even then.
Not knowing what else to do, she continued downstairs.
She emptied the dryer into the basket and the washing machine into the dryer and put the sheets into the washing machine, then hesitated, staring at her own nightgown. She wanted out of the thing, but Cory would be down in a minute and her modesty had become very important to her in the last few minutes. In the end modesty won and she seated herself on top of the washing machine, waiting for Cory to appear. The expression on her face was guarded.
She didn't even truly think about it. Maybe she was too tired or maybe that's just who she was. Probably a bit of both. A pair of basketball shorts, clean underwear, and a loose, comfortable T-shirt later, Coryelle was headed back down to the basement and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Here you go. Um..." she scratched at the back of her head, voice and demeanor still soft. "Why don't you change and I can uh... I'll get us some water?"
She rose from her seat on the washing machine, facing Cory full-on. The expression on her face was contemplative. She took the offered clothes, then hesitated. She felt the need to do something to express her gratitude. If she had had words she would have used them-but she had none, and her phone was still on the table by her bed. She could not even mouth a simple "Thank you". She had never spoken a word of English; her lips and tongue were unfamiliar with the shape of words. In the end she only dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned away.
When she came into the kitchen some minutes later she had put on her baseball cap in addition to the clothes Cory had given her. In her hand she held her phone, which she extended towards Cory. Her face held the same contemplative expression.
Thank you. I must confess my thoughts about you were unworthy. I am ashamed by my quickness to condemn. Again I thank you.
She tapped the glass a little at the small kitchen table, both to keep her awake and out of anxiousness. She'd had her eyes half shut when she heard Anna stepping back upstairs. Her eyebrow raised a bit at the phone and she looked over to it. She saw a few words... 'unworthy, thank you, confess, ashamed, thank you again,' eh. She waved it off and shook her head. "It's nothing..." she shrugged tiredly and took a sip of her water. The other glass sat across from her. "...Hungry?"
She wasn't hungry. She shook her head at the question, then stood with it tilted, a questioning expression on her face. After a moment she took out her phone and began writing.
You should rest. But you never sleep here. Why?
Cory was rubbing her eyes after she'd seen the head shake, trying to sharpen herself up. She hadn't seen the phone initially, so leaned with an minorly apologetic expression to read it. "I have my own place to sleep," she shrugged. 'Have' and 'own' were strong words. Her sleepiness helped hide the half-fib. "Don't want your water?"
She took the water, but didn't drink it. She was gripped by an irrational fear that to drink was to invite disaster- that another nightmare would bring about a repeat of the events earlier tonight.
Do you avoid here because you dislike me?
Cory drank the rest of hers rather quickly, a bit thirstier than she'd realized. She leaned over again to see the phone, thinning her sleepy eyes to focus on the small letters. Her face feel into a tired, energy-less expression. "No, I don't avoid staying here because I dislike you..." For some reason it felt like the whole sentence needed repeating. It mattered. A small line of fur pawed clumsily into the kitchen, a tiny mouth yawning wide, and Cory leaned down to scoop the ferret up and drape him over her shoulder where he quickly fell back to sleep. "I don't dislike you."
She studied Cory for another long moment, trying to suss out what felt like the hidden depths of the other girl's words. She felt there was more than what had been said, but she couldn't see it. She sipped absently at her water. There was more to say, she thought, but it couldn't be said tonight. Cory was too tired and having to communicate by typing was too limited. She wrote,
Tonight, at least, you stay here. To bed, then.
"Hmm? Yeah... got too tired on the way home, was closer to here..." lie. She stretched lightly and stood up to walk past her and set the glass by the sink. She'd wash it later. "But you're taking the small couch, my legs can't fit." The ferret let out another silent yawn, blinking with one eye before the other at Anna behind her.
She smiled at Cory's statement about the couch, lips parting in a silent laugh of affirmation. She finished her drink, set it by Cory's glass, and went to get herself a pillow and blanket for the couch.
But it took her a long time to get to sleep again. She stared across the room, remembering the lab, and whenever her thoughts touched on the man with the round glasses who had loomed so large over her, she shivered.
Nugget, of course, was sound asleep in seconds over Cory's chest and neck, the warmest places he could find. The girl herself was... on and off. She often woke up too hot, sweating from her forehead, but not from the tiny pack rat. Rather, from the beginning of unwelcome dreams that started creeping in. Eventually, after a combined few hours of sleep, she woke early in the morning and headed to the kitchen. The home filled soon with smells of fresh-baked goods and griddled bacon.
She had rarely been a heavy sleeper and when Cory entered the kitchen she awoke long enough to ascertain there was no threat and go back to sleep. When she woke again the room had acquired the odor of cooking meat. She sat up, rubbing her eyes before she stood and padded on silent feet into the kitchen. She stood and watched for a minute before typing and then tapping Cory's shoulder to hand her the phone with a smile.
If I had known you did this in the morning, I'd have made you stay the night sooner.
Her reactions weren't nearly as sharp, dulled and lethargic from her restless week (weeks?). So when the hand tapped on her shoulder, it became quickly evident to her that she'd been cooking like a zombie. She jumped, gasping in quietly, and flinched at the sudden spook. It was easily calmed the second she saw the familiar figure behind her with an extended phone. Cory shook her head dismissively, rather hastily removing apron to fold it up on the counter, and turned back to the frying bacon.
"Only when I'm up in the mornings. Muffins are almost done in the oven, it'll be another minute..." She wasn't exactly expecting an audience and was even less comfortable with it. Ammunition for Anna to think she was some weak softy. "You sleep?"
Anna shrugged. She hadn't slept well, but she carried it better than Cory did. Cory looked exhausted. 177 frowned, concerned. The microwave beeped and she took out her juice box and plopped herself on the counter to drink from it. Jack had been sure to include a small straw with each box of blood. Her feet dangled more than a little ways off the floor. She typed.
Perhaps you should stay here again tonight. You look tired as well.
Bacon slid from the skillet onto two plates she'd pulled down from the cabinets, splitting the portions equally in half. The oven was next, pulling the pan out with a mitted hand and setting it safely on the stove. "They need to cool down," she exhaled, wiping her hands off on the sides of her hips. With her back still to Anna, she turned with a plate in either hand and rose an eyebrow at the phone. She sat, placing the plates on the table and leaning over her own to read the text. "Why?" She quirked, almost defensive, putting a piece of crunchy bacon in her mouth. "I'll just go sleep at my place tonight."
177 frowned, tilting her head and, if not quite drilling Cory with a stare, at least gazing with the expectation that something was missing. This whole "other place" that Cory kept talking about bothered her for some reason she couldn't quite place. Something about the way Cory spoke, a kind of stiffness in her manner.
She slid off the counter and came close to Cory, quite close, closer than was normal for personal space. She sniffed. She caught sweat and musk and mildew and Cory's personal sent, and something that she sometimes smelled in a cloud of smoke originating from brown paper cigarettes. She gave Cory a calculating look. She typed.
You often seem to sleep poorly. I wondered if sleeping here would help. I don't believe Jack will mind the substance you smoke.
She expected Anna to come and eat, not loom over her like a vulture at the table. Cory remained seated, eyeballing her oddly and pulling her eyebrows together. "Uhhhh... 'scuse you? What are you doing?" the horribly close proximity and sniffing wasn't creepy at all . Her face was disgruntled, offended, and she backed away from the Russian to show her much more usual standoffish-ness around her. "It's called weed, and Jack couldn't care less thanks," she huffed in agreement, "Like you give a damn," her eyes rolled as she mumbled, chomping on a piece of bacon finally, "Would you just sit down and eat your breakfast?"
She sat down across from Cory, on the thick seat pad that Jack had put on her chair to make her a few inches taller when she sat. She took a bite of bacon, and her face showed she enjoyed the taste. For a while she simply sat and ate, wiping her fingers on a napkin when she was done. Hand on her palm she studied Cory again, face contemplative. At last she typed:
I was merely trying to repay the kindness you showed me last night. I don't wish for you to feel I don't want you here.
She was backing off. 'Good. Goddamn.' She ate her bacon in silence, overly tense from the simple suggestion the Russian has made. Then she just couldn't leave it be, could she? She caught all of half of the message (and most of the gist) before letting her hand fall on the table. "Seriously? Last night was an exception. One time thing. You and me-?" she motioned between them with a piece of half-eaten bacon. "We don't get along. Remember? That doesn't just change."
She stared at Cory for a long time after the words had been said. We don't get along. They stung her, deeply and unexpectedly. Certainly there had been tension between them. 177 had even had her share of fun at the other girl's expense. But to really not get along- to have it said so bluntly-
She sat, brow furrowed as she studied Cory. She'd thought, after last night, that she'd encountered some new depth of kindness in the other woman. Perhaps something to build a new friendship on. A one-time thing? Why? She saw now answer- only the closed-off face of Cory, chewing her bacon.
Suddenly she felt very alone. I'd be friends with you if I could, she thought. I'm sorry for being difficult sometimes. I didn't realize how important it would be to me not to be alone. I don't want us to sit in silence. I want to be able to talk with you. Jack's not a friend. I don't think Jack can be. I don't have any friends, if you're not one...
But she neither said nor wrote any of this, and after a while she finished her food, put her plate in the sink, and went downstairs to practice her kata.
CBE-177/"Anna"
