Keep Moving

Participants:

ff_natalie_icon.gif ff_silas2_icon.gif

Also Featuring:

brennan2_icon.gif

Scene Title Keep Moving
Synopsis Silas goes in search of a healer to better the odds of the coming journey across the mainland.
Date June 20, 2021

A howling wind whistles through the crumbling port of entry belonging to Lowe’s, one of the most densely-populated isles of the Pelago. The entry for this ancient skyscraper is an eviscerated floor of former offices in what was once known as 40 Wall Street. Now, this sea-level floor of the verdigris-capped skyscraper connects to a series of ramshackle wharves and docks.

Several floors up from the harbor is a multi-story medical facility now known as the Manhattan Company Clinic, the closest thing the Pelago has to a hospital. While the tile floor and concrete walls are clean, it is the shimmering gold of kintsugi-style copper sealing in cracks that makes the structure seem at once regal and resplendent. Much of the first floor is a wide open office space of mismatched antique desks, folding screens for privacy, oil lanterns, and salvaged throw rugs.

It is difficult to tell practitioners from visitors here, though some rugged folk with heavy backpacks and caches of salvaged medical supplies are clearly traders and volunteers. Silas Mackenzie hates hospitals… and yet, here he is again, stalking the halls of the Pelago's biggest clinic like a bear with a toothache. The tang of harsh disinfectant permeates the place, sets his teeth on edge… and under that, another smell, sickening and faint but never quite gone, like an unquiet ghost. The smell of sickness. The smell of death, of dying.

But he's not here to take in the scenery. A little walkin' around here might save a lot of dyin' later, he thinks to himself, gritting his teeth and walking faster, moving quiet and unnoticed. Silas is looking for someone.


Manhattan Company Clinic
Lowe’s

The Pelago

June 20th
2:47 pm


The rooms here all start to look the same after a while. Little suites with oil lamps, thick blankets, and salvaged rugs that try to make the process of living, healing, or dying all the easier. The woman Silas is looking for doesn’t keep a high profile in any of those cases, either. Hard enough that her name has a reputation around these parts, but the locals of the Pelago would pick Natalie Gray apart like the Giving Tree if they knew what it was she could really do.

Silas eventually finds her on the northeast corner of the clinic, sitting quietly in a chair beside an occupied bed. The framing looks like a Renaissance painting, with Natalie’s gray hair swept back over the chair, a book open in her lap, and the whole space bathed in the warm light of the oil lamp. In the bed beside Natalie is a woman in her mid twenties, dark hair and gray eyes. Her right arm is missing from the elbow down, bandaged up. Sweat beads on her forehead, signs of infection.

“…but her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion…” Natalie says, turning the page of the book. “And this was her dream:”

She continues reading from the book, seemingly unaware of Silas’ presence. “First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.”

Silas takes a moment to take in the situation. Natalie seems intent on reading, and her charge…

Well. As much as Silas doesn't like hospitals, he's pretty sure the woman in the hospital bed is enjoying her stay significantly less than Silas is, and he has the prospect of leaving soon to look forward to. She, on the other only hand … is probably not going to be able to leave as quickly, and is going to have a hard time ahead when she does. He's not going to begrudge her whatever comfort she can find.

So Silas settles in to wait, still and silent and patient. He has time enough to wait.

“The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighboring pool—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.” Natalie continues, content to continue reading from the pages of Alice and Wonderland, but before she can reach the ending, the woman in the bed notices Silas.

Natalie follows her eye line to the door, then smiles patiently. She closes the book in her lap, then looks back to the recovering woman and says, “I could use a hand if you wouldn’t mind coming in.” Natalie says quietly.

“This is Marlena Brennan,” Natalie says, gesturing to the woman in the bed. “She’s the daughter of the head physician here. Harve.”

The idea of him aiding with physicking sees a brief flicker of surprise cross Silas's face… but then it's replaced by a patient smile of his own and he steps in. "Pleased to meet ya, Marlena," he says cordially. "I'm Silas Mackenzie," he says with a nod.

Then his gaze shifts back to Natalie. "How can I help?"

“Make sure I don’t hit my head on the floor,” Natalie says softly as she slides out of her chair and takes a knee beside Marlena’s bed. Natalie’s patient only affords Silas a flat smile, nerves evident in her expression.

Natalie rests one hand on the stump of Marlena’s arm, then closes her eyes. “If you would be so kind, Silas, could you unbandage her arm. It will impede the process.” Marlena looks anxious at the notion, and Silas is beginning to think she doesn’t entirely know what’s going on.

Silas hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Understood," he says, stepping forward. He offers another smile to Marlena, then, working carefully, starts to unbandage her arm. Once he's done, he'll make ready to catch Natalie if she falls.

Marlena watches in quiet confusion as Silas unbandages her arm. The wound hasn’t fully healed yet, whatever damage caused this is recent enough to still be at an infection risk, and from the smell of the open wound, that risk has become reality.

Natalie rests one hand on the knit blanket atop Marlena’s thigh and closes her eyes. Her lips twist, just a little, and outside the window to this room Silas hear the sound of beating wings as a swarm of sea birds begin to circle the floor. Shadows rapidly dance across the walls as gulls, terns, and herons swarm outside the building. Natalie’s brows furrow, and a moment later there is a soft golden glow that begins permeating beneath Marlena’s skin.

It’s— ” Marlena starts to say, but her words are choked into a hitch as bone begins to extend from the stump of her arm. Silas is left to watch in as much wonder as Marlena as an entire arm grows from bone, to muscle, to veins, skin, and even fine hairs. The entire process takes less than a minute and when it is done Natalie exhales a ragged, groaning gasp and falls backwards into Silas’ arms.

Marlena bolts up in the bed, scrambling so her back is against the headboard and looks at her hand, flexing fingers open and closed, tears welled up in her eyes and bewildered confusion painted across her face. She looks at Natalie, old and weary, tired, but conscious, and has no words for the miracle she has just experienced.

Silas suppresses the urge to grimace at the smell that wafts from under the bandages. That is definitely an infection, and that does not bode well for Marlena's future.

He's soon distracted by the sound of the birds, though; the shadows of their wings and the sound of their passage lends an edge of the surreal to the scene; his gaze swings back to Natalie for a moment… then to Marlena's arm.

Silas had been expecting something — Tay had certainly seemed to have high hopes, even if they were ultimately dashed. But thisseeing this, actually happening

He manages to remember to catch Natalie before she hits the floor, at least. That's a plus. Also a plus — so far no loud noises from Marlena. Hopefully it stays that way. "Breathe," he advises both of them, trying his best to sound calm — someone has to.

Natalie grunts softly in Silas’ grasp. She takes a firm hold of his arm, eyes fluttering open, and nods reassuringly. She gives his arm a squeeze, then slowly sits upright again and looks over at the stunned Marlena.

“The world is often too-cruel a place,” Natalie says in a hushed tone. “Find a way to bring some brightness into it. That’s all I ask.”

Marlena has no response, save for throwing herself across the bed at Natalie and embracing her. Natalie exhales a breathless laugh and returns the hug, holding the girl tight as she sobs against the older woman’s shoulder. Natalie looks up over Marlena’s hair to Silas, smiling appreciatively to him.

For a time, that is all there is and all there needs to be. Marlena’s soft crying, the affirming kindness in Natalie Gray’s eyes, and Silas’ reassuring presence. It isn’t until Doctor Brennan stands in the doorway that the dynamic changes. Marlena notices her father over Natalie’s shoulder and slowly disengages, and Natalie takes that cue to rise from her seat with Silas’ help.

“Miracles do happen,” Natalie says to Doctor Brennan before squeezing Silas’ hand gently. “I imagine you wanted to talk?”

Doctor Brennen pays neither Silas nor Natalie mind in the moment as he breezes past them and swoops down toward his daughter and crumples around her in an equally-tearful embrace. He had prepared himself to lose her, just like her mother, but here on the edge of the world miracles were made reality.

Natalie briefly watches the exchange, then looks back to Silas.

Which seems like as good a cue for a quiet exit stage left as any. The doctor and his daughter have just had an actual miracle happen, after all, and are understandably quite distracted by it. Hell, Silas is a little distracted by it; the sheer joy in the room is infectious enough that even he's wearing a broad smile at what he's witnessed.

But as much as Silas is glad he had a chance to witness this scene, he hasn't forgotten the reason he came here.

"Yeah," Silas says quietly; his smile doesn't leave his face, but it does fade just a bit. "I do."

"Somewhere private?" he asks, looking back to Natalie. It's true that with his ability, anywhere could be private… but he has a feeling that Natalie might appreciate an opportunity for a swift exit herself. He also has a feeling that she might appreciate a steadying hand in getting wherever she's planning to head next; miraculous her abilities may be, but it seems they are not without cost.

Natalie nods and, with a gentle squeeze of Silas’ hand, levers herself up from the chair. Fr all her age and seeming fragility, she has a strength that belies her supernatural power. A strength of will to move forward, from one tragedy to the next, in the hopes of undoing them.

“Come,” Natalie says quietly, urging Silas to follow. They only need to go a short way before the sounds of the Brennans personal miracle can’t be heard. She leads Silas to an unoccupied room with a neatly made bed and a vase of dried reeds sitting in the plastic-shrouded window. She comes to sit on the edge of the bed, hands folding in her lap as she looks up at Silas expectantly.

“You’re not sick. I quietly took care of that when we first met.” Natalie’s stare is fixed and inscrutable. “So, who is?”

Silas had mentally rehearsed a few different ways to start this conversation, but all of them go flying out the window at that line, leaving him flailing in the dark for a moment. Quietly took care of what? he thinks. Immediately, his mind flashes back to Halloween. Something in the blood transfusions? Or…

Silas gets a grip, forcing his mind back to what he'd come here for. What's important. "Right," he says. "No one's sick — yet. But plans are in the works for an overland trip to Alaska. If we make it there… we'll be able to save some lives. But it's a long trip, and a dangerous one; the odds of us making it there get a lot better if we have someone who can pick us up when we fall down."

Silas exhales. "I thought that way before what you did today, if that makes a difference. So I came to ask if you'd join us." He bats aside the temptation to ask what she'd quietly taken care of; business first.

Natalie is silent for a time, looking down at the weathered backs of her hands. She murmurs, “Overland,” once with a knit of her brows, carrying a weight that implies it isn’t the first time she’s heard that proposal. “You’ll need more than a healer,” she admits. “There’s danger out there worse than disease, and the birds are nothing if not plentiful still.”

Sighing, Natalie nods and finally looks up from her hands to Silas. “If you’re committed to this, I’ll go. There was another group that went some time back with my son and they never returned. I regretted not going, then. It wouldn’t do me well to make the same mistake now.”

Silas nods; he hasn't forgotten about her other ability, and being able to get a literal birds-eye view of any given situation will go a long way towards improving their odds. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

Gotta wonder how the hell that even works, though. She controls birds… so how the hell did she regrow someone's hand? Tay was talkin' miracles… makes a little more sense, now, he thinks.

It's a good question… but if she's going with them on the trip, there'll be time enough for talk. It's a long, long way to Alaska, after all. "I'm committed," he says heavily, giving a slow nod. "And… thanks."

He's quiet for a moment, taking the time to sift through what she's said. "Your son. Was he going to Alaska, too?" Silas asks quietly, peering at Natalie.

“No,” Natalie says. It’s a hushed response, heavy. It’s all she says on the matter as she looks from her hand to Silas.

“Why are you going?” She asks, deflecting his question with one of her own. Outside, the hurricane winds howl against the aging concrete and steel. Lights flicker, the building groans.

Silas doesn't miss that she's deflected his question with one of her own… but it's her business, anyway. He knows what it's like to have ghosts, after all. And her question is a fair one. Why are you going? a voice challenges at the back of his mind.

He takes a moment to consider it, his eyes slipping off into the distance as he reaches for the right words to answer it. And, more than that — to answer it fairly. If she's coming along, he's going to give her that much.

"The Travelers who showed up. They think that there's a disaster coming that threatens their home. They've come here, through Hell and high water, because they think that their last chance to stop it is up there, in Alaska."

"As to why I'm going with them," he says, mustering a rueful smile — yes, he's aware he hasn't answered her question yet, not quite — "there's a whole tangle of reasons. If I had to pare it down to one, though…"

He trails off, expression serious. "I've been some places. Done some things. Made some choices I'm… not proud of. Spent some time kickin' myself for some of 'em. Kickin' myself pretty hard sometimes," he admits, his mouth tightening. "I had my own close call. Got to look Death in the eyes, up close and personal. It wasn't the same as Marlena, there — not disease or injury — but it was Death, sure as can be," he says, the memory of Sunspot — of that lightning monster — still vivid enough he can almost see it, even now.

With an effort, he brings his gaze back to Natalie. "And I decided I wasn't gonna stand by and do nothing. A lot of us on that trip who should've been there hadn't made it, but I had… and I wasn't gonna waste that." Then he smiles. "And somehow… I lived. Most of us lived. Made it out of the fire and got to go on. But that… epiphany, I guess… it stuck with me. There were so many people who'd have given anything to have the gift I had — to still be alive — so why was I wasting it? Spending my days kicking myself over things I couldn't change, when there were things I could?"

"Bringing brightness into the world isn't exactly how I'd put it, but maybe it's not so far off, either. And these Travelers…"

He trails off for a moment, again gathering his words. "They've come a long way to be here, and given up a lot. There may be no way home for them; they've accepted that possibility. But I think their cause is good, and I want to at least try to help them," Silas says, shrugging. Coulda said that and saved giving half my life's story, he thinks, not without a measure of wry amusement.

Natalie’s eyes drift and she looks at the floor, crossing her arms in a way that seems like she’s trying to shake off the cold. But it’s more than that. Something about what Silas has said resonates with her.

So why was I wasting it? Spending my days kicking myself over things I couldn't change, when there were things I could?

Natalie curls her fingers into her shawl.


Forty-One Years Earlier

Big Jim’s Franks & Fries
Newark, New Jersey


Nothing about this feels right.

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light

Fidgeting nervously in the passenger seat, Natalie Gray keeps looking over her shoulder to the fast food diner. Keys are still in the ignition, engine is still running. The spot in the back seat where her son was just sitting is still warm. Natalie’s hands clench into fists. Something is wrong. She barely even notices the radio playing for the sound of her heartbeat in her ears.

Then she sees him in the rear-view mirror, her husband, Samson walking back across the dirt parking lot. Alone.

Natalie’s blood boils, her face flushes red. She’s already shouting by the time Samson throws the door open and sits back in the car.

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

“Where the fuck is Gabriel?!” She screams, and Samson jabs a finger in her face.

“Shut the fuck up!” He howls back at her. “He’s back there, he’s staying there.”

Natalie can feel her heart pounding in her chest. She turns to reach for the door handle and Samson grabs her wrist to stop her. “He’s going to stay with my brother, we can’t—we cannot fucking take care of him!” He shouts.

Fuck you!” Natalie screams, slapping one hand against Samson’s chest. “Fuck your brother! Go back in there and get our fucking son!

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

“Every night—” Samson growls through his teeth, taking her wrists in his hands, forcing her to focus on him. “Every fucking night I think about cracking his little head open.” Her stomach lurches at his words. “He’s not safe with me. I can’t—I fucking can’t.”

Natalie struggles out of his grasp, eyes wide. “And I am?

That, somehow, wounds him more than anything. “I’d never hurt you,” he says in a harsh whisper, even though his hand is trembling. Even though every instinct she she knows he has is telling him to lash out. But in his eyes, she sees it too, he believes his own lie. But it’s because he wants to. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and yet—

Fuck you, Samson.” Natalie rasps, reaching for the door again. Both of them are so preoccupied with their argument neither notice their little boy running across the parking lot toward the car. When Samson tries to stop her for a second time, he slaps her across the face.

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

It happens more quickly than Natalie can process. The sting of pain, fear for her son, fear for herself. In an instant light pulses through where he holds her wrist, into his arm and—

Chain keep us together

From outside the car, little Gabriel Gray just sees a red mist fill the interior. Screams. He freezes in his tracks, unable to process what he’s seen.

Running in the shadows

The driver’s side door flings open, and the headless body of his father slumps out onto the parking lot. Blood drools out of the floor panel of the car like a spilled drink. Gabriel is frozen, eyes wide, unable to speak. Natalie leaps out of the passenger seat, running across the parking lot to sweep her boy up in her arms.

Chain keep us together

“It’s okay,” Natalie whispers through sobs to him, “it’s okay. It’s okay.” She buries his head against her shoulder so he doesn’t have to see. Her hoarse whispers shift to “We have to go,” over and over again. Though neither of them feel like they can move.

Running in the shadows

But they have to. They have to keep moving.

Chain keep us together

And never stop.


Present Day


“That’s as good a reason as any.” Natalie says, rousing herself from a memory so heavy it threatened to drag her to the bottom of the ocean. She looks up at Silas, profound sadness in her eyes, and gently lays a hand on his shoulder. Her hand feels fragile and featherlight.

When do we leave?


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