unseentides | [DARROW] come back and haunt me, oh and i rush to the start

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[DARROW] come back and haunt me, oh and i rush to the start

I don't know why my first instinct was to go to Faye. Maybe because she was the first person that had been there for me in Darrow, no matter much we might have disagreed. I knew she wasn't going to hold my hand. That wasn't what I needed. I just needed someone to talk to, to give the situation the weight that it deserved, and it wasn't fair to put all of that on a boy just because he looked like somebody I onced loved. Someone, I suppose, I still did.

I didn't call. Maybe I should have. I knew my manners, after all. But Faye had given me her address for emergencies, and while I still don't know if this counted, I figured the worst she could do was turn me away. I just didn't want time to think it through before I went, I guess. I had thought enough that day, and I was tired.

Faye lived near the beach. Ocean View, I think the apartments were called. I was a little envious of that, but sometimes the sea brought strange pangs of longing back to me. Reminded me of how we'd run down the pier with the wind whipping at our sides, how we'd visited that wreckage and we'd all been so much more broken than we'd ever been. How the ship hadn't been the only hollow thing that sat atop that beach. I lingered for a while on the edge of the apartment building, looking out at the ocean, breathing in the salt air. It was cold enough that it almost stung, and yet so invigorating.

I had to pull myself out of the moment. One of those moments so like just before I'd arrived in Darrow, when I'd really let myself cry over Tommy for the first time. I probably could have stood there for hours, but I had a purpose. I needed to remind myself of that sometimes. And though I had more time than I ever had before, I intended not to let it waste. So I made the short walk to Faye's apartment, #3, and knocked on her door.

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When a knock sounded on my door, I felt my heart practically leap up to my throat. Only a handful of people in the city had my address. It was the only way that someone in my line of work could really keep safe; the moment you tied yourself down was the moment someone else decided to hunt you before you could hunt them. Even on the job, I rarely went by the name Faye, except with people who were similarly from outside the city.

I never really knew why. Some sort of camaraderie, I suppose? We were all aligned against something greater than us. Whatever disagreements we could have had, it paled in comparison to what the city did.

Even among those who knew me as Faye, though, I didn't exactly invite all of them home. So I quickly got to my feet, a hand on the gun tucked underneath my belt as I approached the door. When I saw who it was through the peephole, I let out a sigh of relief.

Halfway, at least. The fact that Kathy was coming to me still meant that something was likely wrong.

"Hey," I said as I opened the door, quickly looking out into the hallway in either direction, before waving her in. "Come in. Is something wrong?"

I hesitated before entering her apartment, only because the whole thing felt a little strange. I seemed to know so little about Faye, and I wondered what her apartment would reflect of her. That wasn't why I'd come, though, and I can't say that I knew the real reason I'd arrived, either. I mean, it was about the boy that looked like Tommy, but I'm not sure what I'd hoped to accomplish. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. I've just... I just need to talk about something with somebody. I hope you don't mind if it's you."

Edited 2014-03-16 10:09 (UTC)

My apartment was a little bit of a mess, as it typically was. I kept myself busy enough with jobs that tucking everything back into its place just didn't seem necessary. The coffee table was mostly covered in research papers comparing and contrasting the various bounty heads that were up for grabs on the market, and my Glock sat right beside them, halfway through being cleaned. Draped over the sofa were a couple of coats I was picking between for my job, one of them a bit more ostentatious with its fur lining, and another one a simple khaki trenchcoat.

The only detail that had changed in the past couple of months was the kitchen counter, where books on electrical and astronomic engineering were littered all over the place. My newest hobby, and the most enjoyable.

"Have a seat. Feel free to move things around if you need, although I think the sofa's pretty free," I told her, glancing over to make sure I was right. "I don't have any jobs tonight, so my ears are all yours. Do you prefer water or tea?"

"Water's fine," I said, not wanting to be a hassle, and scouted out a spot on the sofa. Faye's apartment looked live in, which was nice. Mine was pretty neat. Pretty bare. Not unlike the bedsits I stayed in as I travelled over England. I had bits and pieces of my life I'd carried along with me, books and one of Tommy's drawings, one of Ruth's little horses, but not a lot. I hesitated before I spoke next, not sure if I should dive right in. "I'm going to go to nursing school. I was there, today, getting it sorted out. At the community college in town."

Even though she agreed to water, I put a kettle on anyway. I was a girl of tastes. Not necessarily very picky tastes — I had been known to easily down a can of dog food if cash was that tight — but of tastes nonetheless. I usually preferred some type of seltzer or warm drink to plain water.

Maybe if I made the tea for myself, I could convince Kathy to have some as well.

Glancing at Kathy over the kitchen counter as I waited for the water to boil, I leaned forward with a smile. I was surprised by her announcement, even if something told me that there was more to her visit than that.

"Congratulations," I told her earnestly, my smile soft and proud. "I think you'll do wonderfully in nursing school. I really do. And signing up is definitely something to be proud of."

I reached in my cabinets for the wine glasses. Even if she didn't drink wine, she deserved the feel of something celebratory.

"I haven't been accepted or anything," I said a little dismissively, but I was smiling back in spite of it. Few people knew what a big deal this was for me. I'm not even sure I knew how big of a deal it was back then. It was planning for a future I'd never dreamt I'd have until relatively recently. "But it should be good, if I do."

It wasn't why I'd come, but I (perhaps a little selfishly) wanted to bask in that for just a few seconds more before I brought up the boy who looked so hauntingly like Tommy. I knew it wasn't an uncommon occurrence, I'd met two other men that looked like Paul, but I'd never expected to find one of... him, I guess, in Darrow. I raised my brow as she grabbed wine glasses, then inhaled sharply. "I ran into someone today. At the college. Someone who... reminded me of someone. Looked just like him, actually. He was younger, but. It was there."

"You're different than many of the students here where your background is concerned, but I don't think you'll have any trouble getting in on academic merit," I told her plainly, folding my arms neatly on the counter and leaning forward, waiting for the kettle to start to boil. The bluntness was just the way I operated. I wasn't going to sugarcoat any of my feelings about Kathy's background, but at the same time, I could see how far she'd come, and I knew what areas were probably easier to build her confidence in.

God, I wasn't the best at fielding other people's emotions, but at least I could be logical when I wanted to be.

My expression sobered when she went into the next topic. The one that I presume she came to me for. The thing about Kathy was, she wasn't really the boasting type. Not that I'd noticed, anyway. Her pride was softer, and I could have seen her going weeks at the nursing school before telling me, if that was how the cards fell.

Dealing with a familiar face, on the other hand.

"Let me guess. Either you were in love with that someone, or they were family. Or both," I said quietly, waiting for her confirmation. Not immediately certain what kind of comfort I could provide.

I tried to imagine what it would have been like to see someone with Spike's face. I didn't come up with any pleasant answers.

I appreciated her faith in me. Anyone's faith in me, really, but I think Faye's had been there from the start. She was the first person in Darrow to know where I'd come from, both what I'd lost and was about to lose. So it meant a lot coming from her, no matter how blunt.

I suppose everyone I lived with at Hailsham and the Cottages was a bit like family, but Tommy was more than that. I'd always been intrigued by him, by his rages, when he was younger, and it was him that I developed my first crush on. But I hadn't acted on it for the longest time, and by the time I did some might have argued it was too late. But wasn't everything too late, for us? Our lives were about counting down, not counting up. "I've mentioned him before," I said. "I think. His name was Tommy."

I hesitated before I spoke next. We'd gone to see Madame to have our love validated, and instead had our lives shaken up with the knowledge so many thought we were soulless. Incapable of love from the very start. "I'm still not sure what love is, but I know we were in it."

The kettle started to rumble on the stove, although it hadn't yet come to a boil. I threaded my fingers and rested both hands under my chin. Yes. She had mentioned that young man before — or at least, I assumed he was young based on what kind of world Kathy lived in; maybe that was a mistake. At the time, I had come to the belief that he was the only real one in Kathy's world that left some kind of unfinished business. She was ready to resign herself in other ways, having been trained since infancy to be a replacement. A means to extend the lives of others.

But where this Tommy was concerned, she seemed to have doubts. And doubt was a powerful thing.

"You know what love is. Every human who comes to feel for others know what love is, even if they can't put it into so many words, and even if they can't explain it," I said firmly. I hated acknowledging the times I'd been in love. Only one was halfway real, and it was the experience I most wanted to wipe from my memory. Because even the thought of it gave me ache and hurt.

"Do you want to see that boy again?"

"The boy who looked like Tommy?" I asked, not sure exactly what she meant. Of course I wanted to see Tommy again. More than anything in the world. I was capable of setting it aside, sometimes, capable of not letting the grief consume me. I'd never let it stop me from going about my day, but there were times where it caught me fresh. When I saw something that reminded me of him or of Ruth. When I wanted to talk about Hailsham with somebody who understood.

The boy who looked like Tommy was only that. A reminder of what he looked like, but the similarities stopped there. Understandably so. Despite what many claimed to think otherwise, we were capable of having our own souls. Of creating our own relationships and memories, just like any other human being. "I think it was strange enough without needing to be repeated," I said. "He was young. About sixteen. Tommy was... in his late twenties when he completed. Most of us are."

"The boy who looked like Tommy, yes. I get not wanting to be a bother, but... well," I paused, tilting my head to try and imagine how I would feel if someone shared Spike's face. (And yes, I hated that he was the first person who came to mind, but that was just how it was.)

"It makes me wonder if talking more to this other boy might change him from a reminder into something whole on its own."

I paused. I was probably going about this the wrong way. Understanding how people felt and processed their emotions was never my strength, not even as a kid. Back then, I always learned best by listening, and ask questions, and prodding. I wasn't in the habit of it anymore, probably thanks to my job. You didn't ask questions as a hunter, not questions like these. Sometimes, the fewer questions asked, the better.

"How did seeing him make you feel?"

I'm not sure I wanted him to turn into something whole on its own. Maybe that's a terrible thing. I knew that he wasn't Tommy. I knew he'd never fulfil any of that. He was just a boy, after all, who happened to share his face. But what I worried about was whether seeing him as his own self might make Tommy drift that much further away. Maybe I wasn't ready to let go yet.

Maybe I never would be.

Faye's question threw me, and it took a long moment for me to figure out a reply. Because I didn't know what I felt. I still don't. Nothing could prepare me for that moment. Maybe, maybe in the way that we thought of encountering our Originals it might have, but it just wasn't quite the same. It wasn't me. It was Tommy. And sometimes I missed him so much I worried I'd forget how to breathe. "Sad," I said, finally. Honest.

Sad. How apt, and how brief, almost to the point where it didn't feel like a word that did the emotions justice. Maybe that was unfair of me to say. It wasn't me who had encountered a ghost of a face. Having Spike around, however briefly, had been cathartic. It was him. Really him. And I could let out every single emotion with him around — or, as I did more often, nurse them in the privacy of my room.

If it was just a face... you know what? I think I would have found it frustrating. Just frustrating. And I probably would have opted to never see that person again.

As the kettle came to a whistle, I gave both of us a little time, pouring the water into two mugs and allowing the leaves time to steep as I brought them over. A quiet sort of movement, back and forth, as I went back for the milk and tea. Tea was better for these sorts of conversation than water was, I was convinced.

"I'm sorry that you had to see his face again like this," I said quietly, once I'd finally settled by her side. I glanced over, quiet, meeting her gaze. I genuinely... felt sorry about the situation. "It must have ached."

I wanted so badly to dismiss its significance, to pretend that it was all okay, but it occurred to me that doing so would be dishonouring Tommy and his life and his worth. It wasn't okay. Losing him, I realised, wasn't justifiable in the ways that we justified old age or illness or tragedy. Somebody brought him into the world, as they did me, with the knowledge that before he'd even reach middle age he'd be dead.

More than sad, I felt angry. And I'm not sure I'd let myself feel like that prior to that point. Prior to seeing Peter, the boy that looked just like Tommy but broke my heart when he was not. She was right. It ached. How could it have done anything less? How could I have felt any better? "I should have expected it," I said. "I've met so many look-a-likes. I should have figured."

"I don't know. I don't think we ever learn to fully expect all the crap that life can throw our way. Even if we're used to it, or even if we're aware of it around us. We still don't expect to have it land on us. Especially if life's already been hard enough as it is," I remarked, watching Kathy quietly. I could sense more tension in her shoulders when she talked about Tommy than when she talked about her own likely fate.

Funny, how it took being angry on behalf of another person to wake many of us up.

I placed the tea set gently on the table, pouring out a cup of tea for either of us, and trusting Kathy to handle her own milk and sugar.

"You know, when I arrived here... someone from my home was already around. Someone who had passed away about a month before I arrived. That happens, too."

I'd heard about those sorts of things and while I knew that I had as much a chance of that happening to me as the next person, I didn't let myself dwell on that. I'd rather have been surprised if he did turn up, the real Tommy – not just some picture of – than hold out a hope that he'd come back to me when I'd already accepted his death. Before he even died, really. "That must have been difficult," I said, although it didn't feel adequate.

Difficult. That was a word for it. It certainly felt accurate in describing the tightness in my chest, the way my pulse pounded, the way everything in my body was slightly off knowing that he was around. He didn't have a quiet presence; instead, having him by my side changed everything. The air I breathed, the ground under my feet.

As much as it had hit me square in the chest when he left, I breathed easier these days.

"Just like how your encounter was difficult, right?" I asked, raising a brow lightly. "There's no need to worry about me, though. He's gone, I know he could come back, and that's as settled as that matter will ever get. But I wanted to warn you. A lot can happen around here."

"I think this is one of those times where ignorance would have been blissful," I said, not unkind, and not as if I wasn't grateful for her warning me. I knew the bizarre sorts of things that Darrow could do to a person, I just never never imagined I'd see him again. Him, all of him, not just a face that happened to resemble his.

I wasn't over losing him. I'm still not. But I'd tried my hardest to rationalise it all, to tell myself that when he went he saved another, that the life he lived was rich and real and what he wanted it to be. But I could hardly convince myself. Those days, at least. "I appreciate you saying so, though."

"Isn't it always, though? Not knowing keeps life so much... lighter," I remarked, far more open with Kathy than I would have been with most of my other acquaintances. Maybe because she'd shown the initiative in being open with me. I know that there were plenty of times when I wanted to return to that blissful state of unknowing, those precious few weeks after I'd woken up in that chamber, when I could still believe in the goodness of people. And how that was the default.

I knew better now.

"But it also makes things a hell of a lot more dangerous. At least when you know about the unpleasant stuff, you also know when you've spotted it. Maybe I care about you being able to suss the dangers out, Kathy. Not that this particular fact is dangerous, but... well." I glanced up at the ceiling.

It was an emotional danger. That prospect of seeing a loved one again. Maybe it was just me, and how I hated for things to grow more chaotic than I was anticipating... but I'd rather be warned, I thought.

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[DARROW] come back and haunt me, oh and i rush to the start

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