Making Promises


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Scene Title Making Promises
Synopsis Returning from their work at the Brick House, Colette and Tasha discuss the future they've seen and how best to prepare Tasha's family for it.
Date August 21, 2010

Gun Hill

By the time shoes are off and backpacks are dropped by the front door, the clock on the wall reads 9:22, and the dark out the windows of apartment 404 in Gun Hill implies that night has come. Silent is the apartment's interior, from the blonde frame of Tamara lounged in as restful sleep as she can get on the sofa, the furry bundle of Misty laying on her chest under folded hands.

Two quiet phantoms in the apartment move not to disturb their roommate, though the brush of Colette's hand over Tamara's forehead to thread a lock of hair away from her face and a kiss to her temple is subtly stirs the sybil, if only marginally. On the floor near the sofa, Jupiter is a heavier sleeper in appearance, though the quirk of one black ear up on Colette's arrival just checks to make sure it's familiar people coming home. Familiar smells — mildew aside — helps reinforce that.

Socked feet scuff across the hardwood floor in the dark, a soft goldenrod glow in a line from front door to bedroom door serving as a guide path for Colette's partner in crime come home with her from a long night of work at the Brick House. Walking backwards across the floor towards the bedroom, Colette's dark brows lift as she watches Tasha, hands folding in front of herself as lips creep up into a smile.

It's not entirely for the reasons that may seem obvious that Colette is trying to lure the other brunette into privacy.

"You are so very handy. My own personal walking flashlight," Tasha whispers, not wanting to wake Tamara as she moves from living room to hallway to bedroom, smirking as Colette moves backwards in front of her.

Once they are both within the messy confines of their bedroom, Tasha reaches to push the door, only a barely audible click marking the closure. She pulls one shoe off by stepping on the heel and easing out her foot, then repeating with the other, kicking both shoes out of the swing of the door and out of the path so that no one trips on her size 5 Converse.

Finally she makes her way to the bed, sitting on it and turning to look up at Colette, some worry and apology still written across her face — Tasha has no poker face. It's one thing she hasn't learned from either parent.

"It's okay," is Colette expressing her reaction to that apologetic look creeping over to the bedside and standing in front of Tasha, lifting up her hands to slide fingers thorugh the brunette's dark hair, "it's really okay," she whispers, leaning down in to press a kiss to the top of her head, then slides her hands down along the sides of Tasha's cheeks and down under her jaw, tilting her chin up so Colette can look down at her and make eye contact.

Smiling down to the brunette, Colette lifts up hand to cup Tasha's cheek, then leans in and brushes her lips against the other girl's before slowly leaning away, but not quite standing upright again. "I still think you should," has her own apology behind it, because of bringing up this conversation again. Colette may have backed down from her beliefs when in the company of others, but now she's back to her old stubborn self.

Tasha lets her head fall forward, bumping foreheads with Colette before the other straightens, and she chuckles at the tenacity of the other. "Quit being all tall, Amazon," she says, alluding to an old joke between them while reaching up to Colette's waist and tugging her toward the bed, rolling to the farther side so that Colette can sit where Tasha had been. Their bed has no such thing as sides, really.

"We'll see," she murmurs vaguely, which probably translates to I don't think so. "She wants to go on a cruise or something, maybe in September or October? She wants you to come to. And she wants me to stay with her that week, with my Dad's goons watching us. Me, you. I know you might not want to, but …" she frowns. "I said I would, to make her feel better? But I won't if you need me." That week doesn't need any explanation, unfortunately. That week is like a giant thundercloud looming in the distance, unavoidable. She's not sure how they haven't discussed this yet, except their schedules before the Staten incident were often conflicting, and since… they've had other things on their mind — like survival.

"I always need you," is an entirely honest answer that Colette affords as she lays back from her seated position, rolls onto her side and scoots across the bed in close towards Tasha, wrapping an arm around the brunette's waist as she slides her nose up beneath Tasha's chin, hiding her face in the nape of her neck. "I wouldn't mind going on a cruise with you," she offers diplomatically, pressing a kiss to the side of Tasha's throat, "whether your mom's there or not. But I won't leave Tamara in the city during the riots… I can't do that to her."

One of Colette's hands slides down Tasha's side until she can find bare skin at her hip, then tucks beneath the brunette's shirt and slides up along her back, bare palm brushing over the young girl's skin in comforting caress. "Do you really think that if she saw the video of the Institute truck, that… that she'd not believe us? If my dad came to talk to her too?" Colette's nose bumps the underside of Tasha's jaw, lips at the front of her throat to kiss that scar tenderly.

"She's your mother, she's… just scared, y'know?" Pleading in tone, Colette isn't sure why she feels so strongly about this like she does. "Your dad even understands… kinda'. Maybe— maybe if they both saw it. Maybe… I don't know."

"Yeah, I'd say Tamara could stay too, but I don't know how my mom would feel," Tasha begins, voice whisper-soft despite the fact that Tamara is beyond closed doors and a hard sleeper when she finally succumbs. "And my mom has trouble enough talking to me, you know, and I don't know…" Suddenly it's hard to think as the palms of Colette's hands are grazing bare skin.

Tasha's lips trace the elegant line of Colette's jaw, her thick lashes fanning Colette's cheek. "I … maybe…" she murmurs, brows furrowing together, as she considers it before her eyes widen. "My dad would kill me if I showed her that, Colette! He freaked out when I pointed out there were at least two people involved in the visions, not one, which is what he was telling my mom, only because I sort of made him, and when I asked him what the government was going to do about it… they both acted like I was the problem." Her voice cracks, and she buries her face against Colette's neck, fingers sliding down to find the other girl's shirt as well. It's a strange thing, to be undressing and kissing and caressing while discussing governmental conspiracy, but their lives are so entwined with both, it's become… normal.

Unfortunately normal.

"Secrets never solved anything," Colette whispers against Tasha's shoulder, leaning away and looking up to the brunette even as she momentarially brushes Tasha's arms away from herself, pulling that mildew-stinking shirt up and over her head, disheveling brown hair before throwing it aside in the dark of the room. "We can do it together, I… I promise it'll be okay," Colette softly offers as she presses a kiss to Tasha's bare shoulder, sliding close to her again and letting the brunette's fingers find the hem of her near threadbare carnation red t-shirt again.

"We can't keep hiding things from them… your mom— maybe if she knows everything, maybe— " Colette's eyes shut, her lips moving ot kiss down along Tasha's collarbone, words felt in hot breaths as much as they are heard, "maybe it'll change everything. Maybe it'll stop… stop her from having to meet Sasha. She— she at least needs to know we found him."

"He was nice," Tasha says a little lamely, hands moving to stroke through Colette's darker hair. It's maybe not quite the right word for Sasha but she saw compassion in his eyes when he looked at her. And in her dreams, she remembers him holding her, keeping her safe. "I don't know. If my mom promises not to tell my dad, maybe… maybe it'll be all right."

They keep promising this, that it will be okay, but so far it hasn't been. Hopefully their promise to change everything on that day will be more successful.

Clothing extricated piece by piece, bare skin meets and there is comfort in that, if not in the words that they can't seem to quite make true. "About the Garden…" Tasha murmurs, lips moving across Colette's collarbone, "I'll go with you if you want to go there. It'll just be harder to get to school, but I'll see if I can get my classes all a couple of days a week, and then it'll be easier to get to the Lighthouse for what I told Doyle I'd help with. You know I'll go wherever you are, Colie." The words grow softer, just a breath, punctuated by kisses.

There's a soft sound in the back of Colette's throat, eyes fluttering shut, her bare legs twining with Tasha's as she holds the other girl close. "I'm not sure m'gonna' do it yet," is offered softly between the touch of kisses, between the hushed breaths and wandering of hands over bare skin. "I think…" she whispers between breaths, "I'm gonna think on it."

Tightly pressed together, Colette's lips find the side of Tasha's neck, one hand sliding up from the brunette's back to rake thorugh her hair, fingers curling in short, dark locks. "We'll make it work, wherever I go," Colette whispers against bare skin, "I know we can, because— because I'm not ever losing you."

Not ever, even if the future says they have to be apart, Colette will change that.

"I have to tell you something," Colette finally admits in a whisper against Tasha's throat, "I met a man… a guy who— says he can change the future." Not his words, but a close enough approximation. "He's a friend… and… and I'm going to help him change things, whatever it takes. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, or me, or Tamara… or your family. I promise."

She's always full of promises.

Tasha's small hand comes up cup Colette's face, her dark eyes searching in the dim light for that mismatched gaze. Just a few months ago, the two-toned eyes made Tasha shiver, because it reminded her of the pain and fear of the night she thought Colette was lost to her. Now there is no place more welcoming, no place she feels safer, than when she is looking into Colette's disparate eyes.

"We'll make it work," she agrees, her thumb stroking along the underneath of Colette's chin. "I love you, Cole," she whispers, craning forward to bring her lips once more to Colette's, her hand sliding around the other girl's neck to tangle in dark hair. "And you don't have to stop it by yourself. I'll help. We're in it together."

She kisses harder, as if fervor and strength could seal their promises. "Forever."

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