Repeated Reassurance


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Scene Title Repeated Reassurances
Synopsis The more you say them, the less you believe them. Feelings are hurt and soothed but nothing is fixed when Quinn seeks Tasha and Colette at GCT; Tasha leaves with Quinn for Pollepel.
Date November 21, 2010

Grand Central Terminal

It isn't often that Robyn Quinn gets to make her way out to Grand Central terminal. In truth, this is actually the first time she's been down entirely on her own, though the dark hallways and the dusky sky which she had traversed through to get there - immensely carefully, or at least so she believed, knowing how bad things were outside for the moment - had presented little problem. It had been getting there that had been the issue, up to and including almost turning down the path the path Colette had warned her against her first time down there. That had been a mistake quickly corrected.

With all the proper measures taken to guarantee entrance, Quinn finally finds herself stepping herself stepping quietly into the terminal, glad to see it still active, if diminished so. Dressed in stiff looking blue jeans, boots, and a somewhat uncharacteristic leather jacket, she looks around for a familiar face, or at least someone she can talk to. She hasn't stopped by for any official reason; rather she's taken upon herself to see if there's anything - supplies, information, or people - she can take with her to Pollepel before she catches a boat back in not too terribly long for the wake later that evening. Hopefully, she would get back in time. Either way, it was a trip that needed to happen.

Inside, those present are apparently giving Tasha her space as the young woman paces like a tiger, chewing her thumbnail nervously and darting glances toward the entrance, which is when her eyes fall on Quinn. She goes scrambling for the Irishwoman immediately after Quinn is cleared by the overzealous teen boy with the rifle.

Tasha's a little more reserved than most of Quinn's friends (except with Colette of course), so it probably comes as a surprise when the petite teen's arms are flung around Quinn and Tasha hugs her tightly. "Quinn! Oh, my God, it's so good to see you! Are you okay? How is everybody?" Tasha says, peering up with that worried expression she too often wears.

Rattling her way past, boots clapping against concrete, Colette Nichols only comes into view after she's come up the steps from the tracks and onto the platform where Quinn and Tasha are greeting each other. Invisibility ripples and peels away from her like washed out watercolor paint, revealing the teen's black leather jacket, scorched on one collar and one sleeve by fire during the riots. Her hood is pulled up over her head, dark bangs hanging in front of her face and a four expression worn.

As she walks, the jingle-jangle of what she's carrying announces her presence more than she does. There isn't a hello to be spared. Over her shoulder, Colette carries an olive-drab canvas duffelbag, the top unzipped, bristling with the muzzles of some eight to ten assault rifles.

Continuing right on her way, she starts marching towards a wooden bench set up nearby to the dividing wall where the fish are painted.

Quinn is caught rather off guard, stumbling back a bit against the force of the hug, Quinn laughing as she returns it in kind, a nice light moment to be had among a surely quiet, largely serious place, particularly lately. "I'm good! Been back in town a few days now, actually," she replies, ruffling Tasha's hair as she does. "Ah, well… most everyone's fine, as far as I'm aware. Most everyone. I went t' Pollepel after the8th t' see how I could help out. Sable, Elaine, Magnes, Delilah… they're all fine. You should go see Dee sometime, she has her baby now."

She closes her eyes after a moment, letting out a sigh. "How in touch with Pollepel have you guys been down here? It's… things are kinda grim, truth be told." Understatement of the century. "A lot of folks got out t' Pollepel fine, but…" Still hugging Tasha, she shakes her head. "Not everyone was lucky. Did you hear about the Council? Like… yeah." There's a grim countenance on Quinn's face, one not usually seen on her. "I'm headed back out there in a bit. They're holding a wake for teh fallen an' missing, I wanted t' stop by an' see if I could take any supplies with me. Or if any other folks needed t' come."

"Cole…." Tasha begins, frowning a little as her other half enters and doesn't say a word, beginning to move that way with an apologetic look thrown Quinn's way, but then she pauses to listen more to Quinn's words.

Tasha's countenance grows somber and she nods in regards to the council after quirking a smile at the thought of Delilah's baby. Such a mix of hope and life and darkness and death on that day. But when Quinn mentions going back to the island, she glances over at Colette.

"You're going back? I … I might need to go with you," she whispers, and her hand goes to her mouth to chew her nail again. "I … Cole? Can you…" she shakes her head, reaching for Quinn's hand and tugging the Irishwoman toward Colette.

"Tamara got taken by the Institute," Tasha whisper to Quinn to explain, staring at her Doc Martens as they make their way to the bench. She leaves out the reason they had to allow her to be picked up — rather than run.

"Colie, I need to talk to you," Tasha says in a small voice, moving to touch the other's shoulder gently.

Hefting that bag over her shoulder and down onto the bench with a crash, Colette slowly turns to look back at the source of her name being called. To Quinn, it looks like Colette is sick; dark circles ring her eyes, she's gone a shade more pale than usual, her eyes are reddened around the edges from lack of sleep and her hair hasn't been combed or brushed all day, resting as a disheveled mop beneath her hood.

Mismatched eyes flick from Tasha to Quinn and back again. "I have to strip these rifles for parts," she explains in a monotone voice, still hoarse-sounding and scratchy. When Tasha's hand touches her shoulder, Colette relents the attitude, if only just. She sighs, audibly, then closes her eyes and looks down and away from Tasha.

"What's up?" is quietly asked, Colette's dark lashes partway lidding to hood her eyes.

Quinn's reaction to Colette is a bit delayed, having been distracted by Tasha's hug and relating to her the status of their shared friends. But Tasha's addressment of the other wayward has her looking up, a worried expression on her face as she lays eyes on Colette. "Jesus Christ, Colette, are you okay?" Probably not the best of questions, particularly once Tasha's statement about Tamara registers, Quinn's eyes widening a bit as she looks back at her, gulping audibly.

Following Tasha over to the pair, Quinn rolls her shoulders a bit. "I am so glad t' see that you two are alright. I've been really worried, between not knowing what you guys were up to. Cat, too, but I figure she's fine somewhere." A hand runs nervously through her hair as she watches the other pair, looking a bit off to the side. "Is there anything I can do t' help while I'm here? I'm headed back out t' Pollepel in able, came t' get surprise an' see if anyone else needed t' go, but…" She reiterates for Colette's benefit, shrugging again. Moving to the other side of Colette, she quirks her lips in a bit of a smile. "You should come up sometime soon. Get some sun, see Deliliah's kid."

Tasha sits on the bench and glances down at the rifles. She has no idea how to help in this task, but she picks one up anyway, opening the chamber to be sure it's not loaded, before glancing at Colette's hands busy on her work to see what exactly needs done, imitating if she can.

"A message came through on the radio earlier," she says quietly. "I wasn't here, but they gave it to me when I came in." She'd risked travelling to their apartment to pick up fresh clothes, since she's registered and unevolved. "Anyway… my … my dad's at Pollepel, I guess, and wants to talk to me," she whispers, watching Colette's face, then glancing at Quinn. She bites her lip, and shakes her head. She might as well let Quinn in on the secret — she values the other woman's judgment. "It's… my dad's Vincent Lazzaro, Quinn."

Colette's brows furrow, lower, and she snaps a look to Tasha. "You didn't need t'tell her that," she chastises, reaching up to take the rifle from Tasha as if to imply don't touch that. One booted foot reaches out to hook a stool by the leg, dragging it over with scraping feet on the concrete floor. Boosting herself up onto the stool, Colette lays the rifle across her back, then reaches inside the pockets of her hoodie to pull out a small folding multi-tool set. A screwdriver is folded out and the arms of the set snapped closed, and Colette begins to inscrew the main housing of the assault rifle.

"Go, he's probably worried about you…" Colette off-handedly comments, dropping the crews she removes into an open cargo pocket on her black pants. "I'm going to leave tomorrow and see if I can track down anything on your mother, so just— worry about one parent at a time." As the rifle starts to come apart, Colette looks up to Quinn.

"Was that it?" Mismatched eyes stare up tiredly to the redhead.

Colette's brows furrow, lower, and she snaps a look to Tasha. "You didn't need t'tell her that," she chastises, reaching up to take the rifle from Tasha as if to imply don't touch that. One booted foot reaches out to hook a stool by the leg, dragging it over with scraping feet on the concrete floor. Boosting herself up onto the stool, Colette lays the rifle across her back, then reaches inside the pockets of her hoodie to pull out a small folding multi-tool set. A screwdriver is folded out and the arms of the set snapped closed, and Colette begins to inscrew the main housing of the assault rifle.

"Go, he's probably worried about you…" Colette off-handedly comments, dropping the crews she removes into an open cargo pocket on her black pants. "I'm going to leave tomorrow and see if I can track down anything on your mother, so just— worry about one parent at a time." As the rifle starts to come apart, Colette looks up to Quinn.

"Was that it?" Mismatched eyes stare up tiredly to the redhead.

Surprises abound this evening it would seem, Quinn's gaze moving rather quickly over to Quinn as she reveals her parentage. Her eyes aren't wide, but she certainly looks a bit heightened. "Like, the DoEA guy? The one from that Times article the other week?" The one about Moab, of course. "Wow, Tasha, that's… did he know you were part of the Ferry?" She doesn't sound judgemental ora ccusing, thankfully, even if the words unintentionally ring of it. "I mean… you trust him, right? Don't think he woulda… said anything? I mean, I guess not considering tat article…"

She clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck. "If you trusted him, Tasha, then I don't think that's that big a deal. Just… surprisin' is all." Looking over to Colette, Quinn grimaces. Curt responses from Colette usually means she's pissed off or upset about something, in Quinn's experience. She wouldn't entirely blame the other woman either, and she's hoping not to push the button too hard like she did the last time she found Colette in a decidedly unhappy mood. "Yeah, that's probably about it. And, I mean, I wanted to check on you an' Tasha. I've been worried. I mean, I can hear people are okay, but until I see it myself…"

The reprimand from Colette and the removal of the rifle have Tasha scowling into her lap. That Colette tells her to go and doesn't offer to go with her has her looking way, tears pricking her eyes before she looks up at Quinn.

"Only later on," she whispers, not trusting her voice at full volume. "He helped us. And don't repeat that, but a few people know. It's not that much of a secret, really." Her eyes dart to Colette's form and then back at Quinn, finding the older of the two women easier to focus on. "I … I'll go with you."

She presses her lips together and nods in a corner where two bags are stashed. "I got us clothes," she tells Colette. "The blue bag's yours. Whatever I could grab."

She stands and moves toward that corner to grab the second bag, apparently ready to go now if Quinn is willing.

Colette swallows audibly, looking down to her lap as she hears Tasha's tone of voice. A noise grumbles in the back of her throat, a frustrated and tense sound before Colette's multi-tool slips from her fingers and clatters down to the ground. The brunette's jaw trembles, a breath is sucked in and she sharply exhales a frustrated noise before tossing the half disassembled rifle over onto the bench to clatter noisily against the duffelbag there.

"Fine— whatever!" Colette abruptly shouts, kicking her stool over with a clatter of wood on concrete and throwing her hands up in the air. She turns on one heel after that fit comes from out of nowhere and starts storming off down the concrete floored subway platform, sweeping her hood back from her head and raking the fingers of one hand through her hair.

Quinn winces visibly - this is a little too familiar to her. And she still doesn't know how to handle it. Trying to be caring last time got her yelled at and a vegetable bucket punted, and she suspects being turn would just turn into a huge fight, and that's probably the last thing either of them wants right now.

She can't quite help herself, though.

"Wh-whoa, Colette!" she replies quickly with a furrowing of her brow, a look given over to Colette. "What… what's wrong?" Beyond the obvious, of course. She would reach down and get the rifle but - it's a rifle. The idea of handling one, however dismantled - makes her a little wary. A hand is reached out after Colette, Quinn shaking her head. Closing her eyes, she slumps a bit. She doesn't want to get into it. Instead she looks down to Tasha, then over towards the door. And kind of hopes Colette doesn't see.

Tasha flinches when the gun is thrown to the ground, her eyes widening as Colette stalks off; for a moment she looks like she might argue, might yell, might fight back. Her hand comes to her forehead, pressing it there in a mirroring motion to Colette's, before she shakes her head at Quinn.

"Sh-she doesn't mean it. She's just frustrated," she whispers, making apologies for Colette again. "Things are bad." She glances in Colette's direction, torn between following and just going with Quinn.

But she ran away from her mother, and now her mother might be dead.

She ran away from her father, and he might have died.

Tasha drops the bag and runs across the platform to follow Colette, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around, once more flinging her arms around someone in an overflow of emotion. "I love you. I need to go but I'll come back or I'll wait for you, whatever you want, Colette, just tell me what you want and don't shut me out," she whispers, burying her face in Colette's dark locks.

Were it not for Tasha's intervention, Colette likely would have exploded at Quinn. As it is, guilt and self-loathing over her current predicament and how she's treating Tasha has Colette vulnerable to the younger brunette's demeanor. Tears well up in Colette's eyes, her throat tightens and she tries to swallow down what was almost a sob, but instead comes out sounding almost like a hiccup.

Spun as she is, Quinn notices a glimmer of something shine dangling around her neck. It's a ring, polished and silvery with a single diamond on it, looking like it could snap together with the stoneless silver band Colette wears on her left hand. That it now hangs from a chain around her neck implies all manner of things, none of which are likely good given her attitude.

Frozen like a weeping statue, Colette stares at Tasha before just leaning in to that embrace, closing her eyes and wrapping her arm around the slightly shorter girl, hugging her tightly. "A'love you too," is whispered into Tasha's hair, brows tense and scrunched together. "M'sorry about— about— " her voice cracks, and Colette's fingers curl in the fabric of Tasha's jacket. Arms trembling, Colette tries to unwind from the embrace, lifting up a hand to scrub the heel of her palm over one eye and her cheek.

"Go'n, find your dad," she murmurs with a quavering tremor to her voice, "I got my phone. You— you can call me." Fat tears dribble down her cheek, cutting a clean path through grit and grime on her skin.

If Quinn only knew what Tasha had prevented, she would assuredly be incredibly grateful. Even without knowing, she can feel how the tension diffuses significantly with Tasha's intervention, even if it's replaced by a different flavour of tension.

She gives the two their space for a moment, only speaking after a moment as she runs her hand through her hair. "There's no reception on the island," she notes, giving a weak smile. "But I'm sure they'll let you guys use the radio if you need to, right?" Right? Quinn shrugs a bit, hands slipping into her jeans pockets. With that, she lapses into silence once more. Waiting until they're done.

"No sorries," Tasha says, shaking her head and kissing Colette's teary eyes, first one, then the other, her own eyes leaking tears as she stares up into Colette's mismatched gaze. She reaches with one bandaged hand to brush the tears from Colette's cheek. "You should talk to yours, too," she whispers. "Maybe he can help."

A long and loving kiss is delivered to Colette's lips, both girls' mouths tasting of salt, before Tasha hugs one more tightly, shaking a little as she prepares to break the embrace, to separate from the last of the people that matter most to her in the world. "I'll come back as soon as I can. If you go anywhere, leave me a message. I'll get a new phone before I go, too," she adds, glancing at Quinn to see if this is okay.

She finally steps back and steps away, reaching for the bag flung to the ground. "If you find my m-mom, send me a message and tell her I'll get to her as soon as I can. I'm hoping my d-dad can help too."

Colette swallows, nervously, then bites down on her bottom lip and non-comittally dips her head into what could possibly pass for a nod. Looking away from Tasha, she tucks her hands up into the sleeves of her leather jacket, brows furrowed and head dipped down with a worried look on her face. No goodbyes, Colette's said enough of them to last a lifetime. Just the tacit implication of agreement by not vocalizing disagreement.

As Colette turns away, the outline of her body ripples and distorts as color drains from her form and soon value of light and dark with it, turning her first transparent, and then wholly invisible. Only the scuff of her bootfalls signal her departure. That, and the soft sound of a sniffle.

"I'll be sure t' come by when we get back," Quinn says as she sees Colette disappearing. A bit of a weak wave is given to where she assume Colette is, unsure if she sees it. "Kinda wish you'd come," she says quietly, probably not loud enough for her or Tasha to hear. Scratching her cheek, she lets out a bit of a sigh, before she moves to put a hand on Tasha's shoulder. "We can head out whenever you want. Have somethin' should probably tell you about anyway."

Tasha nods, glancing once more over her shoulder at Colette, apology and love in her eyes. She needs to go to Vincent, but Colette needs her too — it's not the first time she feels split between her family and her girlfriend, and it probably won't be the last.

Not if her parents are both safe, anyway.

"Okay," she nods to Quinn to indicate she's ready, and begins to move toward the tunnel that will lead them out of the safehouse. She swallows, reaching up to wipe her face with the gauzed hand. "Sorry about that," she adds again, once they're far out of earshot. "Tamara… Tamara got hurt, and we had to leave her or … or she'd probably bleed out. So she's… Colette's… she's not in a good place. Please don't hold it against her."

'I never do," Quinn replies quietly, shaking her head. "I know… in the months I've known her, I've gotten used t' her gettin' like this. It sucks, an' I wish I could help, but I'm sure she'll be fine." A look back behind them to where Colette was, then back down to Tasha. "Tamara too. But if you can think of anything I can do t' help, let me know. I don't like seein' friends in such a way, you know?"

She offers a bit of a weak grin, before turning back forward. "We have t' be careful when we get up top. I'm sure you heard about the martial law an' all, right? It's… pretty bad. Not as bad as it could be, but we have to be really careful. It's probably dark now, though, so… that'll help."

There's another moment of silence, before Quinn looks back one last time, before ushering Tasha down the tunnel and further away from the main area of GCT. "Have you heard anything about Else? Or Rourke?" she says quietly, really hoping that Colette can't hear them, by some fluke.
You have been applauded.

"I … we were supposed to meet at the Brick House, and no one was there, my mom and me, we were trying to meet up with Colette — that's when … that's when I got separated from my mom and came across Tamara… Colette, if she knows anything, she didn't talk about it," she whispers, glancing back again, clearly worried about the girl she left behind.

It feels like she cut out her heart and left it on the platform.

"Wh- do we know?" she whispers back, eyes on the ground for a moment before darting up to Quinn, afraid of the answer.

That was more less the answer that Quinn was desperately hoping not to hear. She doesn't answer immediately, instead letting the pair cover more distance before she even considers answer. The last thing she wants is someone to overhear and make a deal out of it. Quinn swallows down a bit of a lump, raise one hand and letting it start to glow, giving them some more lighting as they move away from Grand Central.

"She was in the paper," Quinn answers quietly. "Her and Rourke." She stops, one last time looking back, before she starts moving forward more quickly. "I heard about from Elaine. Delilah was the one who found out." The look on Quinn's face should say it all, how she's putting off saying they're dead.

Tasha's brows knit together and she just nods, her lips trembling as she tries to say something, but then she simply shakes her head, covering her mouth. She walks several yards before she manages to get herself under control, knowing that a sob or sniffle will undo Quinn as much as herself.

"We were supposed to change this," Tasha whispers, her eyes finally coming up and staring at the light ahead. "But it all came true anyway. Is there… Quinn, do you think there's even any point to trying, or is all this free will stuff I've always believed in bogus?"
ORDER: Barbara Tasha

Coming to a gradual stop, Quinn turns, hands placed on each of Tasha's shoulders. "Absolutely not." Quinn seems resolute in this statement, her hand still glowing - not blindingly so - as she points at Tasha. "From what I hear, some things did change. A lot of things. Hell, I broke my arm in my vision. Worst I got out with splinters and a cut up hand."

Blacking up a bit, Quinn withdraws her, pointing back ahead. "Shit is bad now, I know that. God, I am so sad about Tamara, Else, everyone, an' I'm about t' go a wake an' see how bad it really is." Not her voice wavers a bit, a hand moving over her eyes, the other still pointing. "But goddamnit, we're going t' make it through this, an' we're going t' do it how we want. Not how anything dictates it, okay?"

"Okay," whispers Tasha, eyes meeting Quinn's and then dropping, but it's exactly what she needs, to be told by someone else that it's going to be okay — she's been the one whispering it so often to Colette that she no longer believes it; the words have lost their meaning.

"Okay," she says again, feet resuming their path, eyes watching for obstacles perhaps more carefully than they need to, but it gives them something to do other than cry. "Thanks," she adds in a small voice. "And thanks for coming to see us, to bring us to Pollepel. I … I won't stay, not without Colette, but maybe she'll come back with me." The maybe is so tentative it brings tears to her eyes; nothing seems sure, not even the one thing she could count on for the past few months: having Colette to come home to — or having a home at all.

"Anything I can do for friends," the redhead replies, her expression still a little flat. "I wouldn't expect you t' stay. I'm not. I have to much t' do here in the city. For the Ferry and for myself." That hand reaches up again, patting on Tasha's shoulder once more as they walk. "If you do talk her int' going out there you, let me know so I can still come visit you guys, okay? If you stay for a while."

With that, she falls silent for amoment, before nodding again. "We just gotta stay strong. You, me, Colette, the who feckin' Ferry. It's going t' be a bitch, but we're gonna make it." Repeated just as much for her own benefit as it Colette's.

One can only hope that's how things will go, even if for once, Robyn Quinn doesn't totally believe it herself.

"Of course you'd be able to visit. Of course we'd want you to," Tasha says, though she isn't sure what the logistics are of staying on the island. She wraps her arms around herself to keep herself warm. "We'll get through this. It'll be okay," she agrees, echoing Quinn's words.

The only problem is, she repeated those same words since June 10th — and they turned out to fail her. Hopefully this time they will ring truer.

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