Participants:
| Scene Title | Our Father |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Eileen and Raith fulfill a promise to Kazimir. |
| Date | January 8, 2010 |
It's dark outside, although one would never know that from in here; there's no windows. Only subtle changes in the noises that filter through doorjambs and around the edges of riveted metal walls, differences between activity and less activity that may be nothing more than figments in the mind of the listener. It's really easy to fall into that trap, with nothing at all to do but sit in a cramped little cell and twiddle thumbs — as it were.
The lighting in the brig doesn't particularly change, and neither do the conditions; it smells of saltwater and rusting metal, silence broken by the occasional rustle of clothing accompanying someone's movement. There's still twice-daily deliveries of food, although no one's come around to inject them since Yvette's ability was restored two days ago. She's kept that little secret close, not even using it to lessen her own pain; the better not to raise suspicion. Two days — but the pale young woman still waits, seated motionless on the cot, hands folded in her lap, her head bowed.
There aren't exactly many other options available.
But just as old options sometimes disappear from the table, new ones occasionally make themselves visible from the night.
It's impossible to enter the brig or even to move around the ship in total silence. There are too many places to step that can cause metal to creak, too many things to bump against, too much of everything to be totally silent. But whoever has just stepped inside the corridor is doing their best to be silent, given the minimized noise, and that likely means that whoever it is hasn't come to deliver food.
With nothing to ease his nerves, Jensen Raith squints as he peers into the darkness that blankets the ship's prison, double-checking before he dares cast a beam from his flashlight. Getting caught now is the worst thing that could happen. Or one of the worst, at least. But for now, it's clear, and he slips inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible once his accomplice has done the same. "In and out," he whispers, "And maybe we won't get shot. You'd think we were passed doing bullshit like this." But that's that.
"You still got the key?"
It's a question that doesn't deserve an answer. Or if it does, Eileen doesn't deign to give him one. The key rests safely in her jacket's interior pocket and, like their footsteps, makes very little sound as she and Raith move down the corridor toward Yvette's cell. "Don't antagonize her," she says of the other woman in a voice that does not carry to ears other than her companion's at its current volume. "All I need you to do for now is keep watch while I speak with her. If she decides to come with us, then—"
Then that's a bridge they'll cross at its appointed time. Eileen doesn't elaborate. Her last few strides have brought her within immediate view and earshot of Yvette's cell.
The flashlight, the muted scuff of footsteps, catches Yvette's attention; she lifts her head just enough to look forward, squinting against a stray gleam of light. The decayed lower half of her face remains in plain view; no point in hiding it here, and every reason to put it on display. At least while she remains within the confines of this metal cage. Yvette doesn't speak; no surprise there. But she does unfold from the cot, the soles of her shoes brushing faintly against the floor when she stands up, facing her visitors; her posture is stiff, her expression distant as the young woman regards Eileen.
"Yeah, yeah." Raith will keep watch for… for what? There's not really any place they can hide in here, and there's nowhere to run to, either. The most he can do is leap from the shadows and knock someone out, if it'll keep the secret a bit longer. The flashlight goes out, its job finished. And hopefully soon, their job will be finished too. All the better is being 'finished' doesn't leave them in a cozy cell right next to Yvette.
It is out of desire to make as little noise as possible that Eileen chooses to communicate with Yvette using her hands rather than any respect — or disdain — for Volken's true daughter. She fingerspells her name, light glinting off her nails and pale skin as she swiftly forms each letter before moving onto the next. The actual dialogue of their conversation she performs in British sign language at a less practiced speed — it's been a long time since she's made use of it, and there are moments where she has to pause and carefully consider whether or not her word choice is effective in conveying what she wants.
I spoke with our father, she signs. Do you know why I'm here?
Yvette glances briefly to Raith before focusing on Eileen's hands and their stilted motions; the British version is not her most frequently used language, but the pale girl is a polyglot by necessity. Her initial answer, however, is more universal than any sign language — a brief nod of her head. Her gestures afterwards are slow and slightly exaggerated for Eileen's benefit. I know what he asked, Yvette elaborates. What will you do?
What you want, comes Eileen's carefully articulated reply. Her attention is on Yvette rather than their surroundings, no glances spared anywhere except the interior of the cell. Raith and I can smuggle you off the boat and onto the island. He asked Holden to accompany you, but we can also arrange for you to go alone. There is not much time. Please decide quickly.
The decision on Yvette's part seems to take no time at all; she regards Eileen steadily in return, her eyes narrowing in response to the other woman's words. I will not go with Fenrir, the caged girl replies, her gestures sharp and emphatic. Given their history, his history, it is an easy decision for her to make.
Even though Raith can't clearly see what's happening, and doesn't know enough about signing to make sense of it, the general lack of agitation on Eileen's part is enough to give him the sense that things are going well. A half-nervous glance at his watch, however, tells him something different. "I hate to rush you, but please hurry," he hisses lowly in Eileen's direction. Their time table is made that much shorter because, if there is someone who checks these corridors from time-to-time, Raith has no idea what that schedule may look like, and the sooner they get outside, the better.
Eileen has no verbal response for Raith. I did not think that you would, she tells Yvette, and without a voice to accompany her words, it's very difficult to assess her tone. There's little mirth in her eyes as she retrieves the keys from her coat pockets and uses them to release the lock that holds Yvette captive in her cell. The door opens, silent on it hinges, and admits the mute girl into the corridor.
There is a bag for you on the boat, she signs. I packed clothes and food from the kitchen. Where will you go?
For the first time in far too long, Yvette steps beyond the boundaries of metal bars and metal walls. She watches Eileen to be sure the other woman has finished signing, casting a brief glance to Raith. A dip of her head acknowledges his nerves; but she doesn't know the ship, which means one of them shall have to lead. Thank you, the pale girl signs, a slight preceding hesitation the only indication of surprise; clothes and food are more than she expected, all things considered. It is best if I do not say, Yvette continues, her regard as somber as Eileen's. She doesn't elaborate why; she shouldn't need to.
It's good news to Raith that, if nothing else, Yvette is out of her previous residence. Getting the hell out of Dodge is surely imminent. He eases open the door that leads from the brig to the rest of the ship proper and takes a careful glance out. The coast is clear, for now. "Fsst," he hisses at the women, urging them towards the door with his hand. None of them have weapons, and even if they did, discharging them in the bowels of the ship would be out of the question. They have to get topside silently.
Stepping as quietly as possible into the next corridor, Raith takes point, having spent three hours earlier memorizing the three best routes to an exit. Ears are going to be more useful than eyes, but so far, they're the only ones making noise. All the better for a covert exit.
You're welcome.
Eileen follows Raith's lead, moving ahead of Yvette should they encounter something unexpected around the corner. Explaining to a military officer why she's down here will be a lot easier than attempting to persuade them that the other woman is authorized to be roaming free without a pair of handcuffs to bind her wrists.
In early hours of the morning, before the sky has begun to grow pink, someone will notice Yvette's absence and the phone in Aviators' private quarters will ring. When it does, both Raith and Eileen will be back in their own beds, secure under a layer of woolen blankets and stiff cotton sheets that chafe skin and make it difficult to sleep. Not that it matters, much — after this, Eileen doesn't expect more than an hour or two of fitful rest.
"Go knowing that he loved you most of all," she whispers to Yvette. "He wouldn't have asked us to do this otherwise."
