Participants:
| Scene Title | Impossible Stuff |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Colette comes home exhausted and worried about having to do impossible stuff but finds her support system is supportive, as always. |
| Date | September 11, 2010 |
Out the west-facing windows of one fourth-floor apartment in Gun Hill, the colored of a summer sunset mean that a day is ending, and also mean that Colette Nichols won't be home before dark. Street lights have already come on and the buildings across the street and the noise of rush hour traffic has reduces the steady hum of cars outside to gridlocked honking.
Well outside of apartment 404, down in the lobby of Gun Hill a young woman is making her way in thorugh the front doors, shouldering one side open and staring down at the tile floor underfoot. Booted feet clomping tiredly are the only sounds she makes, the walk from Chinatown to the Bronx was arduous and frought with uncertainty. Too much to think on, too few answers, too many questions. Colette Nichols should have seen Elaine home, but her own frustration and anxiety has had her distancing herself from the one person who has even a scrap of a clue as to what's going on.
Up four flights of stairs is a short distance to go on aching legs and sore feet. By the time keys jingle in the lock of apartment 404, Colette looks like she wants to fall flat over onto herself. Tasha hadn't seen her all day, and that Colette is drably colored in black jeans, her scuffed up boots and a black hoodie implies that she was out on business rather than anything else. Not that the note she left for Tasha implied anything less.
"I'm home…" is a mumbled greeting when Colette shuffles in through the door, forgetting her keys in the lock as she pushes the door shut and takes weary steps away, only once she's out of arm's reach does she remember her keys, turning around to look at the door, then waving dismissively at it.
She'll get them later.
From the kitchen come a variety of scents, as Tasha cooks dinner though she isn't sure anyone will be there to eat it with her. But the myriad of scents mingle together in a pleasant, singular scent, made up of the bits and pieces of ingredients making themselves known — oregano, tomato, chocolate, sugar… apparently dinner is a the home-made bolognese spaghetti sauce that is one of the few things that Tasha knows how to make, her grandmother's recipe, and some sort of chocolate dessert. All made in hopes that Colette would come home to eat it with her —that she'd be safe. A sort of summoning spell from the urban kitchen witch.
There is a clatter of spoon hitting counter as the teen runs out of the kitchen to tackle Colette into a tight hug, threatening to squeeze the breath out of Colette, as if she hadn't seen her just the day before. Any time without Colette feels too long to Tasha, and the fact that she didn't know what troubles Colette was seeking to solve made the hours go by much, much longer.
"Are you okay? Come, sit down," Tasha says, stepping out of the embrace and grabbing Colette's hand, tugging her toward the living room toward the couch so that the weary looking girl can sit down. Once she's pushed Colette into the couch, she kneels in front of her, resting her arms on the other's knees, peering up with a worried face. "Sable okay? She seems okay… I checked in on her a couple of times, she seems okay…"
Bewildered and tired are two things that Colette expected wouldn't be made to feel any better by the time she got home. The welcome received though, especially after the last few days, might as well be an extra six hours of sleep for all that it seems to reinvigorate the weary teen. A smile crosses the young girl's lips, color flushes her cheeks and the sagging expression of tiredness just melts away. Giving one feeting look over her shoulder to the door where her keys still hang from the lock outside, but she can't focus on it for too long— there's a wonderful girl leading her away.
Stumbling footfalls are the way Colette follows Tasha into the living room, finally folding down into a seat on the sofa with a tired exhalation. She hasn't said anything since she's come home, and for all that Tasha's greeting breathed momentary life back into the worn-out photokinetic, Colette seems to deflate when she hits the sofa, her sigh the sound of the wind being blown out of her sails.
Halfway lidded eyes stare up at the ceiling, and when Colette finally doe stalk, she sounds like she barely has any energy to do even that with. "Dinner smells delicious," and her mis-matched eyes drift askance to look at Tasha, brows furrowed in a markedly worried expression. "You… you know I love you, right?"
The perpetually worried brows of Tasha's face quirk together in an even more worried gaze, and she nods, slowly, her eyes widening a little and then narrowing. "Conversations that start with that never end well, Colie," she whispers, her hands moving to take both of Colette's in her small hands, squeezing them, her dark eyes imploring as they stare into Colette's mismatched pair. She swallows hard, then presses her lips together to keep them from quivering.
"I know you do. And I love you, too. But you scare me when you start like that — what's wrong, Colette?"
Staring up at the ceiling, Colette closes her eyes when her hands squeeze around Tasha's. Exhaling another sigh through her nose, the teen leans forward with all the effort she can muster, extricating her hands from Tasha's so she can rake her bangs back from her face and rest her head in her hands. "Someone's trying to hurt Sable…" Colette murmurs in a tired and diminutive voice, "nobody knows who— but— God I can't even explain this, I— I don't even…"
Sliding her tongue over her lips, Colette stays islent, eventually dragging her hands down her face to cover her mouth, looking up through the ragged fringe of stringy black hair towards Tasha. It's evident she could use a shower. "I'm sorry," Colette exasperatedly expresses, lifting up a hand to thread her bangs behind one ear, looking from Tasha to the table, staring vacantly through it.
"I don't even know how to explain what's going on," is almost whined in tone. "Eileen was there— Chinatown— " her attention flicks back to Tasha as her hands come down from her mouth and fold in her lap, teeth worrying at her lower lip. "Elaine was there, that guy Jaiden we met at his safe-house… Kaylee." Colette slowly shakes her head and looks back to the table.
"Tasha, I— I'm not…" Dark brows crease together as Colette looks away, down to the floor and then hunches forward, drawing her knees up to her chest, the heels of her boots on the sofa, forehead against the back of her knees. "I have to do something dangerous to help Sable… and I don't even know— I…" her eyes peek up over the curve of her knees to Tasha. "I don't know how to explain."
"Sable? Why? I mean… besides maybe the obvious " Tasha says, making an attempt at a joke, though it's her defense mechanism kicking in. She likes Sable well enough, now, despite their troubled past. And she certainly wouldn't wish anyone else could hurt her. "Who though"
But then, it's clear that Colette is more than worried — she's paralyzed by fear, either by what she's been asked to do or because of what Tasha might think of it. The smaller girl stares at her, eyes widening as Colette curls into a fetal position. "Colette…" she whimpers back, the actions of her girlfriend frightening her. She stands and crawls onto the couch next to her, wrapping her in her arms and kissing the side of her head, no attention paid to the need for a shower.
"What do you have to do, Colie? It's okay. It's okay. Listen — we have to do dangerous stuff, I know that, and if you're worried about me being upset because it's Sable… don't let that worry you, okay? I would want you to help her — I'd want to help her, okay? You can't… you can't just ignore it if it's serious, but…"
There's always a but. "But if it's more dangerous for you — or anyone else — to help her, maybe there's another way, a way that's safer, or a way to get her out of harm's way where it won't hurt her or you. Let's think this through." Tasha rambles, with no cognizance of what is going on, trying to reason her way through a problem she knows nothing about. "What is it?"
The arms around Colette cause the young woman to melt against Tasha, slouching into the brunette's embrace as her head leans against Tasha's shoulder. Her tired eyes close and Colette turns just enough in Tasha's embrace to allow for her own arms to slide around the younger girl's waist. Holding her with a tired strength, Colette buries her face at the side of Tasha's neck, staying silent against the threats of something she hardly understands herself.
Pressing a kiss to Tasha's neck, Colette shakes her head from side to side, "I don't know who… I— I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I just— I know Elaine and I have to be the ones to do it, because… because we've already done it or— I— I don't know." That last word is growled against Tasha's neck, Colette's fingers curling desperately into the fabric of Tasha's shirt.
Silence, for a long time, then after that silence hangs in the air Colette looks up as her nose brushes across Tasha's cheek, her voice a conflicted whisper. "He said his name was Hiro Nakamura," mis-matched eyes fall shut as she rests her forehead against the side of Tasha's head, "and he said he could travel in time."
A dozen questions spring to Tasha's lips, fighting for the right to go first, but somehow she manages to stay them, instead wrapping her arms around Colette all the tighter and nodding and petting the distraught girl held tightly in her embrace. Obviously Colette doesn't understand, and the fact she doesn't understand is upsetting her. Once in a while, Tasha has the sense to be still.
"Shhhh. Shhhh. It'll be okay. If you've already done it — somehow — then it means you can do it again," she murmurs, not sure how that's possible. If she's already done it, why would she have to do it again? It makes no sense and it hurts her head, so she can guess how Colette feels. She presses kisses into the other's hair. "Okay. So you don't have to do it alone — this Hiro guy will help you, somehow, right? It'll be okay. It'll be okay. We'll help Sable, somehow. I promise, okay?"
Despite her reassuring words, Tasha knows it's too much to bear — how can they fix the past when they're already trying to do whatever is in their power to keep the future from happening? She sighs, and kisses Colette's forehead again.
"You can't tell her," is an unfair burden for Colette to be leveling on Tasha's shoulders, but unfair burdens seem to be part and parcel to their relationship. Lifting up one hand to press to the brunette's cheek, Colette lifts her head from where it rested, brows furrowed in worry. "You— you can't tell her anything, she— she doesn't need to worry herself about all of this, I— I don't even know what's going to happen, I… I don't know anything." Hiding her face at Tasha's neck again, Colette tightly wraps her arms around the brunette's waist again, holding her as tightly as her tired arms will allow.
"They knew Tamara," Colette offers after a few moments, "she— I think she knows what's going on. She hasn't been home for a couple of days either, I— I don't know." It's not that she doesn't know, it's that Colette refuses to tell Tasha the worst part, about what happens if too many threads on the web of strings are cut. That's a dire consequence that Tasha doesn't need keeping her up at night.
"I love you," Colette whispers against Tasha's neck, "I— I love that you cooked for me, and that you're here, I love— I love you so much and all I ever do is worry you." Worry, guilt and fear is turned inwards as Colette's stress levels begin to implode.
"Okay," Tasha agrees, though her brows are still contorted into that worried look, and she shakes her head when Colette talks about worry — it's a ridiculous refutation, since their relationship is built on mutual worry and concern and near-death experiences. Tasha has wondered more than once if they would have been together if it weren't for all the crises they've faced — another worry she shoves away as soon as the thought manifests.
"Shhhh. We worry each other, and we get through this stuff together, okay? It's just your turn to worry me this week. Next week, it'll be my turn," she teases, though Colette's words about Tamara do throw yet another item into the list of things to worry about. "I love you, Colie. I'll support you no matter what, okay? And we'll get through it. Somehow. And if that guy can time travel — I mean, you can keep doing it til you get it right, right?"
Right?
"Yeah…" Colette says without conviction, "yeah that's… probably how it works," she admits reluctantly. Sliding one hand up Tasha's back, Colette winds her fingers into the brunette's hair and leans in to press her lips to Tasha's, eyes fluttering shut in the kiss, settling her personal problems with physical affection like she's bent to do.
Exhaling a sigh against Tasha's lips, Colette's twist into a smile as she brushes her cheek against Tasha's. "Hey, c'mon… what's that thing that smells all chocolatey in th' kitchen? I— I didn't even know you could bake." She is baking, right? Colette's throwing wild guesses to the wind now.
"M'sorry I'm so worn out… m'gonna take tomorrow off from work, an' I'll be here all day. The last thing you need t'do is cook all day when youre tryin' t'do college work stuff too. Tomorrow, I'll cook for you." It's as easy as that to promise, and a little harder to actually do, but it's the least that Colette can offer for the comfort and peace of mind that Tasha can offer her.
She just wishes that it was easier for her to give Tasha the same thing.
"Right, I should put the noodles on. And don't worry, it's Saturday. I have all tomorrow to get homework done," Tasha says, unwrapping herself reluctantly from their embrace, nosing Colette just behind the ear once more before she stands. "The chocolate is just brownies. From a box. I'm hardly Betty Crockhead."
Clearly.
She pulls Colette up, and leads her toward the bathroom. "You go shower, okay? Don't freakin' fall asleep in the water though. Shower, and I'll boil the spaghetti, and dinner will be ready when you come out, and then we can do something totally mindless like watch Clerks or something until you fall asleep," Tasha says, stepping into the bathroom and turning on the water so that it can get hot, before she pushes Colette down onto the toilet and bends to tug off the girl's boots. "Let me take care of you tonight. You took care of me last time." She winks up at that. It is a give and take.
Looking for all her worth to have been caught off-guard by Tasha's assertiveness, there's nevertheless a smile spread across the young woman's lips as she's lifting one leg to let a boot be unlaced and tugged off. Her sock has a hole worn through the bottom, threadbare forest green fabric one of Colette's own socks (though the odds of the other one either matching or being Colette's is slim).
"I dunno what I did t'deserve someone as good as you…" Colette offers in a hushed tone of voice, "dunno what I did t'deserve all've the people I've got in my life." There'a a lopsided smile on Colette's face as she watches that boot drop down to the floor of the bathroom with a clunk. Billowing clouds of steam from the shower roll out the parted curtain as she stares up at Tasha.
"I dunno if I did anythin'," Colette clarifies with a snorted laugh and a smile, sliding up from her seated position, one boot on and one boot off, draping her arms around Tasha's shoulders to press a kiss to her forehead. "But y'know… all this— this impossible stuff makes me wonder," her mis-matched eyes square on Tasha's darker ones.
"Maybe I just haven't done it yet."