Chesterfield Act Registry of the Expressive Database
File #27 Feb 2018 05:45
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 Elle Fanning |
I was a pretty happy baby? I have hazy memories of it. Clinging to my mom … and my dad. Wanting to share everything with them. Being upset when they were upset. I'm told my first word was 'No.' A peculiar first one.
'No,' as in 'No more yelling.'
'No,' as in 'No more being unhappy.'
'No,' as in 'No, don't go.'
In hazy dreams, I can remember the airport. I can never remember what I was or wasn't doing, just them in the sea of people, and him turning and leaving.
'No.' I want to tell him. 'No, no, no.' I wake up from those dreams cold, torn up inside.
Almost as soon as he abandoned us, I sort of … shut down? Or so I'm told. I stopped talking, stopped taking an interest in the world around me. It made Mom angrier than she already was with the whole situation, thinking she'd lose me, too, when losing him. It made sense, didn't it? That that's what was causing it, even if I was way too young for that to make sense. But she came to her senses quickly enough and realized something wasn’t exactly right.
Like the hazy memory of when he left, I can remember the home I was born into and how warm it seemed in contrast to the New York apartment we moved into thereafter. I had no idea anything was wrong with me for a long time, as Mom tried to impress a 'normal childhood' on me as long as possible. Sure, lots of doctors visits, medications - I thought that was normal. Why wouldn't I, at that point?
I learned to walk, learned all the normal toddler things. I'd wobble and fall over and get back up again, just like every other kid, or so Mom tried to tell herself. She was on pins and needles around me constantly, wondering when my next relapse would be, how bad it would be, how she would have to pass it off this time. There was a brief reprieve where she didn't helicopter mother me, when she told me my brother Taylor wasn't coming home from Afghanistan. He never really came home anyway, so it didn't bother me any. I only ever saw him on the videophone, after all.
Dad came home, though. I was so happy to see him, even if he was like a stranger that hurt, from all the awful things Mom had ever said about him. I loved him anyway. I tried to show him everything, include him in everything. It was Dad who broke down and told me that everything I was going through wasn't normal. When the medical term didn't make sense, he broke the concept down into smaller pieces — Explained to me how railroads that made my brain talk to my body weren't working right. Would never work right. Would only get worse over time, as the tracks got worn down - tired - more than they already were. I felt liberated by the information, even if I was terrified by it. Mom screamed at him after that … and he left again. I felt awful, and blamed myself for him leaving. Felt at the time like maybe I made things too much for him.
I clung fairly hard to my grandfather after that. Pawpaw allowed it, keeping me on his knee and letting me 'help' when he was tinkering. Each 'project' he let me in on when we saw him is something I'll cherish, even if the specifics of them all are lost to me now.
Spring of '06, I had progressed to a point of no return as far as pretending to be ‘normal' went. I was in tears for a week after they told me to start learning to walk using an aid, as consistently ambulating on my own was getting to be out of the question. When Kirby Plaza went up? I was probably the only New Yorker happy about it, because it meant no school — meant no having to deal with school and how terrible other kids could be all while trying to work through what was happening with me, and bracing myself for whatever came next in the ‘getting worse’ that Dad had warned me about. It came in ways I couldn't have expected.
I didn't remember the Twin Towers falling at all, but the blast shook my life hard. The fallout over the next few years aged me faster than I was already having to, but it also might have saved my life. Over time, my health was getting worse, and I was more tired than ever. Somewhere slipped in it all was one extra blood test. I was … particular about being my own advocate, and knowing precisely what procedures were being done, precisely what was being introduced into my system, and avoiding things that would make me feel worse. It was obvious something was off when no one would explain, but I finally conceded just moments before being made to concede.
We were called back a few weeks later but the results weren't given to me, which happened sometimes. People didn't think a kid could handle medical news (not to mention my mom still liked to break news about me to me only when she felt I could ‘handle it’). Though, leukemia was a pretty big piece of news to figure out how to break. The truth about that came out soon enough after because it had to and because I was nosy.
I had a laptop with me while I was inpatient (For schoolwork. Wink wink.) and I read up on everything I could find about the new disease that was trying to kill me. I read up on everything I could, for that matter. Including all the current events I could get my hands on, at least for a few months.
The world seemed to be going crazy, though, so I turned it off and focused on things to make the time fly by more smoothly — mostly video games. I fell into the escapism of it, found solace in the other worlds and the ability to solve problems in them. In the relationships that were pure and strong and not complicated. It was bliss, when I could focus enough on it. The back and forth blur between being hospitalized and at home was less noticeable when I was drowning myself in RPGs. Surviving each day felt a little more worthwhile when I could feel like I actually made progress with something.
When I found out I was in remission, it didn't feel… satisfying. I was still exhausted, still disinterested in everything, still dealing with all of the usual. Just because the leukemia was gone didn't regress me to the way I was beforehand, and the MS really hadn't enjoyed chemotherapy. I became more aggravated than ever with the world around me as I turned twelve, more than ever wanting to soak myself in an electronic experience instead of a real one. We were living in EMP range of the second blast when it went off, and I still viscerally remember how angry I was about it. Mom was trying to head home from work at the time, so it was just me by myself at home — angry at everything and everyone. Angry, instead of whatever rational reaction a 12-year old should have to news of kids being mowed down by the government only a few hundred miles away, riots all around, and the sounds of explosions nearby right up until the EMP blast. The TV went off, killing all the bad news that was streaming in, but so did all of my first-reach vehicles of coping. I screamed and screamed and tore the apartment up. It was easier to be angry than to be scared.
I'd been angry at her for leaving me there that day. I'd been angry at my Dad for not being there at all. I was angry at Taylor for not being there, too. For never coming home. Angry at the world for not being a more peaceful place. I'd survived leukemia to continue living in this world, and it just seemed hellbent on destroying itself. I questioned the point of it, and was scared of what would happen if I was all alone in the world now, and she never made it back because she’d been caught in one of those blasts. I was scared of myself just as much as the world around me for how helpless I felt. It was a long night, and I slept on the couch with the revolver on the coffee table. Mom made it back home sometime after dawn the next day. I don't think she ever thought that gun might've not just been for use on an intruder.
We left out of New York for good following that, moving down to Rhode Island where she grew up. Moved into Papaw’s old place, which was nice. Losing him had been different than when Taylor died — I was old enough to understand then. I missed him, actively. Mom was pretty much insistent I stay inside at all times, and more or less act like I didn't exist, which was fine with me at that point … We were lucky in that the civil war didn't really target a place like Providence, though it definitely was affected by it. People were taken off the streets, if they were known or suspected SLC-E, and we never knew if one day the door busted down would be ours. America as I knew it growing up had fallen apart already anyway, thanks to the economic collapse.
It took me a long time to come back out of the shell I'd grown during treatment. Being cooped up around the house meant that I had a lot of time to myself, though, so I whiled away my time away messing with things, looking up videos to learn about fixing up things. I more than once asked if we could get some old junker for the garage so I'd have a long-term project. When that failed, I asked for something smaller - to let me build my own computer, even if we bought broken parts. I could fix them. It would be helpful, I argued. The fascination with how things work, and making them work, was a natural segue into bringing offline what I had sought from my electronic worlds. She argued I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Mom was extremely judgmental of me trying different hobbies out, figuring for some reason that it wasn't something I should get into. She'd stopped fighting for things to be ‘normal' for me and somewhere along the line decided I needed coddled instead. In a glass box where I just existed instead of contributed. She fussed when I’d try to help around the house. Started setting arbitrary limits instead of letting me find them on my own. I spat at her that she was projecting on me and trying to control what I was doing since she didn't feel like she had control over anything else.
I started arguing with her more than ever, and it wasn’t your usual teenager arguments between mother and daughter … it didn't help that I was reeling at that point from realizing that Dad hadn't exactly abandoned us the way I thought he had. Or why, at least. There was a lot to unpack for me personally with the end of the civil war, a lot for me to question, on top of the world changing all over again. My relationship with my mother was forever fractured when I realized she'd taken several liberties in her explanations on why Dad abandoned us, and it manifested in the razor-sharp barbs traded between us.
I probably would have been more of a brat, but I knew things were hard on her, too, between me, the war, and the whole world breaking down. The war was personal in more ways than one, because we had family involved. We expected the worst when my cousin Julie, who I'd never met before, reached out to let us know that Mom’s brother, Jensen, had been hospitalized abroad. Thankfully, he was alive. And thankfully, my mom told me, she'd never have to worry about that sort of stress with me because… well you know. We laughed about it at the time. It was the first time we'd laughed in a while.
When she announced she was moving out to Kansas City to go work for the new government, though, it was too much for me. She expected that I'd go with her, when all I'd been dreaming of was finally going home, especially now that the Safe Zone was being established. I'd talked it all up in my head that I could go back home to the New York that I knew, and that everything would make sense again once I got out there. It'd certainly be less stifling than the suburbs of Providence, at least. She pointed out nothing was the same after the war, and that Kansas City was the closest thing to ‘back to normal’ we'd find.
We argued, and argued, and argued. I was stung more than once about how naive and incapable of taking care of myself she thought I was. I resolved more than ever to make my own way, and prove a point to her. I might be a cripple, but I'm not a goddamned invalid. I didn't know who else to turn to, and it had been years, but I reached out to Julie. Thankfully, she didn't ask too many questions and agreed to let me come stay with her in New York. I think she was glad for the company, and for the chance to connect with more family. Or maybe that's just me projecting onto her.
I rolled out with my phone, my games and laptop, and not much else aside from money I'd hoarded, and the clothes on my back. When she found out what I was doing, we had it out like one last time like it was Civil War 3: Epstein v. Epstein. In the end, I left on bad terms with my mother, but neither of us had the courage to burn the bridge entirely. We still loved each other, even if we fiercely disliked each other right then.
She stopped herself just short of saying I was just like my father, when I left for the bus station.
It's good for her she had, I thought to myself as I slipped on a pair of aviators while waiting at the station. I'm nothing like him.
It took everything in me to fight through the first few weeks living in Elmhurst to not call Mom and apologize to her for her being right. New York -is- different, and adjusting was… is hard. Living on my own for the first time is a totally different experience than I thought it would be. Thankfully, I’ve got Julie. Thankfully for her, she’s got me. I’m not sure the last time she’d ate at home before I showed up. The arrangement between us is pleasant and peaceful, and keeping our place together gives me a sense of purpose… which is the first step to figuring out everything else from here on out.
19? 19’s going to be my year.
Emily is a guarded individual, as she likes to keep her luggage to herself. She's cautiously aware of the fact she's daughter to a famous tactician and commander, and mention of him sets this guarded state into overdrive. Em struggles to find her own voice away from a protective and controlling mother, and sometimes acts rashly just for the sake of trying something new. She's bold when she speaks out, speaking with an air of authority that just might be genetic. Generally, she is quiet, quick with sharp commentary, and curious about her surroundings.
"You have the ability to talk people into doing anything you want them to do. But only as long as you believe, in true compassion, and your deepest sense of justice, that it's the right decision for them."
"What I'm saying feels impossible, so take a minute. You'll know it's true. And that's what I'm asking you to do. I need you to use your power for me."
— Astor Ruskin (Courage)
Emily is still in the process of learning about her ability and what it can do. She keeps track of it what she knows so far in a journal.
To learn takes having good teachers, and Emily's sought out multiple— from skilled veterans such as Huruma (Take Some Air), Etienne St. James (How Things Work), and Raquelle (Be True To Yourself), to friends of hers like Brynn (Coming Out of Hiding).
She would likely know more about her ability and its limitations if not for struggling with the morality of using it 'frivolously'. Despite that, there are things she has intuited over time:
After the events of Courage, Emily is made aware of the persuasive elements of her ability.
After the events of Jumpscare, she understands she is able to make an empathic connection using her ability, allowing her to understand where a person is coming from.
Reflecting back on events like those that occurred in Fancy Meeting You Again, Emily realizes that the stronger she feels about a situation, and the ties to her own life, the stronger a use of her ability might stick.
While a quiet, but difficultly-managed thing, Emily's ability has not been the same since the trauma she suffered at the hands of Ali Underwood. Her failure to use her ability to successfully talk Ali down haunts her, and her fraught emotions the first few months following her resuscitation caused her ability to bleed into her voice frequently.
Throughout December and into January 2021 when back in SESA's offices, Emily frequently wore sunglasses even while indoors reportedly due to a recurrence of her light sensitivity, but in actuality over the theory that her ability would not work should she make eye contact through the lenses. After another meeting with Zachery to Dark Roast one-another, she now understands sunglasses— at least ones worn by her— are a placebo and she's still able to successfully use her ability on someone.
For now, her gift sees fit to weave itself in her voice during moments of high stress, whatever the cause might be, and sometimes unexpectedly even when she doesn't. Her ease in calling on it is growing, but so is its tendency to show up unprompted.
I keep using it on accident, I think, but I'm starting to figure out where it 'comes from' in me?
"instinct and willpower"
solar plexus — go with your gut?
but like
deeper? lower? back?
but also not? sometimes it comes from somewhere else entirely? like I feel it with my whole being???
Ugh.
I accidentally used it on Zachery once. I know that much. He keeps daring me to, too, and he doesn't know. Is that wrong? That's definitely wrong.
I accidentally used it before on Julie, too, for sure. And I don't even know where to begin in telling her and asking for forgiveness.
And aside from that I don't fucking know when I might've done something with it. Astor wasn't fucking kidding when he said it's easily disguised. I'm trying to get a better grip on this, but it feels wrong to just … go practice on people, especially when it has to come from a deeply-felt place. I can't just … force that? I can't force that on people, and I can't force myself to just feel on command…
I've also noticed sometimes I feel weird after I've accidentally done it? Like … weird weird. I don't know how to describe it. Not myself is the best way I'd put it. ugh.
I'm relieved to finally know. It feels like everything just kind of slid into place and suddenly makes sense now. But I'm also worried? The whole 'great power, great responsibility' shtick comes to mind. But like …
… I don't know.
I feel proud of myself sometimes. I helped make a woman's day better, when I let her know I was sure everything was going to work out okay for her. But then, I think I accidentally gave someone the wrong directions once. For every good moment, there's twice as much wondering if what I'm doing is right, and just as much obsessing thinking I used it when I didn't mean to.
I've got no choice but to keep practicing. I have to hold up my end of the bargain with Astor.
I've got to figure out how this works so I can make it count when it matters most. There's lives at stake.
I just hope I don't fuck it up.
I think I'm growing into someone you could trust
I want to shoulder the weight 'til my back breaks
I want to run 'til my lungs give up
If I could manage not to fuck this up
If I could manage not to fuck this up
I think enough is enough
- I Don't Like Who I Was Then - The Wonder Years
Appendices
Logs
Log Icons
Just a girl named Emily
| Emily | Not-Aviators | Determined Side | Softer Side | #thisisfine |
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| emily | emily2 | emily3 | emily4 | emily6 |
and her other selves
| Bright Agent | Resistance Fighter | Dreamer | Growth Potential |
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| bf_emily | wf_emily | emily5 | emilyt |
Relationships
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My father is my father. He's established very clearly he cares. He's also established that he's a self-centered asshole. He was there long enough to help bring me back, and then went back to being a mess of a human being elsewhere. |
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My mother is my mother. I haven't seen her in person since I was changed back, just phone and video only. Things are stranger between us now than they've ever been, harder than ever. She thought she lost me— her only daughter, her last child. And nobody expects to get their child back. |
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Julie is my rock. She helped me get back on my feet, literally and metaphorically. I'm grateful there's still a place for me in her life, and I'm sorry I put her through so much worry. |
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Life isn't fair. What happened to her isn't fair. I'd do anything to bring her back. |
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I wish I could have fought to get him back the same way he did for me. He's been nothing but supportive as I figure myself out. He's not afraid even when I lose control of my voice. |
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She betrayed me. She hurt me, she hurt so many people all for fucked up reasons I'll never understand. I start— to panic every time I think of her. But I— just have to remind myself th— she can't hurt anyone anymore. She's locked up now. She— |
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The son of an Eileen Gray who lived in the same world as Jolene Chevalier. He's a user. But: he's a believer, and a seer both. He opened my eyes to my ability and what it can be. It's his words I guide myself on, and I hope I can live up to what he saw in a me I'll never know. |
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She might be scared of my ability, but it's what saved her life after she made a mistake, nearly killed someone. I don't have the emotional bandwidth to go through and unpack what happened that night, what happened after, and really understand where things lie in the aftermath. She didn't seem well. I can only hope she's doing better since. |
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I called a man named Etienne St. James and was connected with Gabriel Gray. He saved Eileen in a way I didn't think was possible; loves her in a way that doesn't match up with the image of the Midtown Man. When I scared Eileen, I asked him in her place for advice about my ability. I don't know what to think of him, ultimately, and would never admit to having met him — but he gives halfway decent advice. |
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Nathalie's boyfriend, who I'm only just now getting to know. He's kind and has a big heart. His ability is nothing like I've ever seen. His willingness to continue to try to build instead of tearing everything down and starting over is something I admire, and I hope… I hope we stay in touch. |
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Former terrorist, current pessimist. He has a lot of heart he tries to camouflage from others, but it's still there as day if you learn where his edges are. I'm learning, slowly, the same way he's learning about me. I didn't think our living arrangement would work out as long as it did. I hope his Ghost hasn't caused him grief while I was gone. |
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She's very important to Devon. When I thought he was dead, I hit her for insisting he wasn't. Now that he's alive, I'm living in the aftermath of that and trying to get on solid ground with her. She's been through some shit, and several alternate realities. |
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I always knew she was crazy, but… criminal? I still don't know what to make of what she's accused of. For that matter, I still haven't processed what happened at her festival. I don't know what I'll feel toward her if I ever see her again. |
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There's a lot to Kaylee, a lot more than I'll probably ever know. She helped Sibyl, she helped Devon, she helped me, too— she's helping me learn how to resist telepathic influence. |
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Raquelle and I have something in common I never dreamed of — similar SLC-E abilities. Hearing his story hurt, but I hope I can learn so much from him, and I hope I can help him keep the light on even as things continue to get darker. |
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The way I look at him is more complicated than even before. I don't know that I could look at him if we crossed paths again. He walked away when Nathalie didn't. Terrible people did terrible things and I'm sure he's suffering, too, but… it just hurts. |
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She's a source of advice for life and my ability both. I don't know if she fully understands we're not entirely similar, but I don't want to bring it up, either. I appreciate what she does for me too much to jeopardize it. |
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I met him when I was falling apart and feeling like nothing would ever be right again. We were birds of a feather then. Since then, whenever we cross paths, I feel like we take turns supporting each other in equal measure. Strangers who support each other, who want better for the other. |
Gang? Family? … War refugees? All of the above. They're a tight group of teens, though. There's more of them and to them than I ever expected, and as tiring as it is that they try to include me, I've stopped fighting it. Through them, I've come to understand the concept of nurturing a family that's not of your own blood.
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We've seen a lot together over the last two years, and become good friends somewhere around it all. He has a way of making you feel like family, even when you feel like you barely deserve to be his friend. He's always supportive, always encouraging somehow, even when things are tough. He knows the value of silence and is willing to sit with you in it just the same as he's willing to joke and try to snap you out of things. |
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I've come around to Joe, and he's learned to pry a little less. I still don't know what to do with how overwhelmingly nice he is. He believes me to be a good person, but I don't, no matter how hard I try to be. |
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Something happened in the time I was gone. I don't know if I'll ever understand it, or if she'll let me understand. Maybe we can start making progress now that I'm ready to talk to others again. |
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Lance's sister, Geneva's emergency contact, and an animal empath. We live very different lives, with a lot of distance between them. Maybe the divide will lessen over time. |
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I value Brynn's companionship, kindness, and thoughtfulness. She's taught me ASL, though there's still plenty to learn. Just when I think I have her figured out, she does something else surprising, though. |
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I think we're firmly in a post-hummingbird era, but the bond we built then still remains. Geneva's probably my closest friend, because she's seen enough of me to know when I'm lying to myself or to others. She also became a SESA agent trainee while I was gone. The jerk. |
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Bright, clumsy, pacifistic. A non-Evolved member of the Lighthouse. He's the kind of person who looks out for everyone else and tries to keep them safe and fed. I think he can make friends with just about anyone. |
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Dust-bodied artist, adopted daughter of Lynette and Mateo. The Lighthouse try to absorb her the same way they do with me. I still don't know much about her, but I'd help her out in a heartbeat if she ever needed it. |
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An actual live Disney Princess, complete with the inability to look after herself in real life. She has a kind heart and deserves to be protected from how cruel the world can be. I know the Lighthouse will look after her, and I'm grateful they let me bring her to them. |
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Harsh and short-tempered, she's been through a lot. I wonder if the Lighthouse saw that in me when they first met me. Between me and Joaquin, we're trying to get her on her feet, and keep her indoors more than out, even if we have to fight her pride in the process. She and Goober deserve better than the streets. |
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He's very suave, very talkative, very forward with his attempts to get to know you and help you. He's a genuinely nice person, one whose little kindnesses took me by surprise after what happened in November. He slipped me a lot of "cafecito" as a part of attempts to get me to open up. |
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She was responsible for my orientation walkabout at SESA, and I think very highly of her. Not only does she give a shit, she's savvy about it, and human besides. She was the one who made me consider being an agent long-term. I'm glad to see she's risen even higher now. |
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I know better than to swipe any of his donuts, because he loves pranks just about as much as he loves those things. I'll continue to passive-aggressively clean his desk up until he gets his shit together. Because, I mean, I hope he fucking does. |
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He watched Kettle when I was gone, kept track of all of the victims human and otherwise. He's quiet but determined, compassionate. There's a lot I could learn from him. |
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I liked working with her. She's both friendly and to the point, and I'd definitely jump to work on another case with her. |
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Something terrible happened to Nicole while I was gone. She lost her ability, her kids. I don't think a promotion can fill that hole. |
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She punched Eve in the face and got suspended for it. That's kind of legendary. |
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I don't like his bespectacled fucking face, but I'm smart enough to keep that to myself. I'm trying hard not to hold it personally against him that he sent me home after I tried to come back into work after my attack, but it's hard. |
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She's lost so much this year. She's probably not doing well. I wouldn't even know where to begin with reconnecting with her. |
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She walks in dreams and gardens. She can be such a fucking asshole. But she came back to apologize after she acted irresponsibly, and let me talk with Finch when I was still trapped. |
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Too much happened to process fully what he did, the ups and the downs of it. All I know is he's gone, and some part of me can't shake being sad about this. |
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I love her kid Jonah. From what little I've seen of her, I respect her, and am glad the Academy satellite opened at Brooklyn College. |
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Not with Wolfhound anymore? Possibly because of what happened with Richard's kidnapping, which she was apparently cleared of, but… I don't know. I might owe her an apology at some point, if I ever see her again. Or maybe not. Fuck it. |
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Lene's a girl who punched people straight into the sky during the war, and she's come back into herself after being healed. I hope she's doing well. |
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She went on a mission west to find Squeaks, and eventually they all ended up back home. Something happened to her in November … I've not been myself, so I haven't dropped by, but I hope she's okay. |
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Joe swears she's good people, but he does that with everyone. Works for Yamagato, had a child with Magnes Varlane in … multiple universes, but definitely not this one. She rolls with the punches with exceptional grace. |
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A small girl who speaks through the characters of her stuffed animals, and is no less fierce for it. She calls Eileen Aunt Eileen. She calls a man not Magnes Varlane her father. And it turns out her actual name is Addie. |
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I keep looking over my shoulder wondering when this guy is going to show up again. |
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Missing? Eileen's no longer in her, and Gabriel said she disappeared from the hospital she was at. So she either died there and they buried her, or someone took her body for their own purposes. I'll keep my eyes open. |
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