Widow Of My Own Making


wf_abby1_icon.gif wf_tania1_icon.gif

Scene Title Widow Of My Own Making
Synopsis Abby comes to tell Tania she's alive and the real story behind Robert's murder.
Date August 15, 2011

In Dreams

Somewhere from the ether, came a message via text for Tania. Two months since she'd seen Abby who'd been a regular visitor to Tania in e-ville or outside it when she wasn't comfortable visiting the evolved ghetto, so to speak. Two months since it made the news about the death of Robert Caliban, the disappearance of his wife, the child and FLint Deckards incarceration for his murder.

It was two months of Abby trying hard to get it together, keep it together, not implode, reach for that tenuous grasp of sanity that she almost thought she lost in the sea of guilt that consumed her and still consumes her. For this trip, she had taken a chance, negated so there were no accidents and she waited. Jeans, hat, glasses, incognito enough as she waits in an alcove, plunking away at a phone and waiting, watching for Tania to make her way to the appointed meeting place indicated in russian on her phone. Bare bones.

It all happened so soon after her own wedding, and Tania had spent much of the first months of her marriage quietly fretting about her friend. So when the call came, she was more than willing to find herself a taxi and get herself to their meeting place. When she steps out of the cab, she'd dressed in jeans, too, although they're nice. So are her shoes. And her jacket. She wears a scarf up over her hair, also trying not to be noticed.

She pays the cabbie, complete with nice tip before she turns to start looking for Abby. She doesn't call out her name like she might have when she was just a girl, having learned some discretion, at least.

She's there, once the cabbie is gone, pulled away, appearing quietly at the Russian's elbow. "Tania" It's quiet and a lift of the shade to peer and make sure it is indeed Tania and not a trap shows thin features, dark circles under eyes that show worry, stress and guilt, so much guilt. «Hello my friend» Abigail, is alive.

The first thing Tania does is turn to wrap Abby in a tight hug. "«You're okay. I worried,»" she says, sniffing a little before she leans back again. "«You are okay, aren't you? He didn't hurt you, too?»" She looks Abby over, noting that guilt with a furrow of her brow. Gentle fingers fall on her cheeks as concern takes over. She's not okay.

«He didn't do it. He didn't do it Tania. I did. Flint just… took the blame» Her own arms wrap around the tiny Russian holding her tight, fighting back the urge to cry into her shoulder. There's been others watching over the pyromorph, been friends, helped her out with her daugher when some days, getting out of their bed in Grand Central had been something she couldn't bear to do. But nothing compares to that of someone you consider a best friend.

«I burned him Tania. I lost control and I killed him, not Flint»

"«Oh god, Abby,»" Tania says without judgment, just sympathy there in her tone. "«Abby, I'm so sorry.»" Genuinely, too. She'd seen them together enough to know how they cared for each other. "«Do you want to talk about it? We can, or we can not, if you'd rather not dwell.»" There's a small pause before she looks her friend in the eye to state firmly, "«It isn't your fault. It is not.»" Of that much, she is certain.

It's not her fault, she's told consistently. But in the end, it was her who lost control and watched him burn. «I don't know how long I have Tania. I needed, I just needed to let you know that I'm okay, that Kasha's okay." Living a whole other lifestyle, once she never fathomed she'd have to do and thanked god each night that she had had the prfound and blessed luck to have married a man with the influence to keep her from e-ville, to love and hold.

«Do you remember, when I told you about what had happened, years ago with Logan and his friend Muldoon Tania?»

"«Of course, I understand,»" Tania nods to her first words, and her hands move to rub Abby's arms, "«I'm glad you and little Kasha are okay. When I didn't hear from you, I was… well, I'm glad you're okay.»" When she goes on, Tania tilts her head a little at the question, but she nods, "«Yes, of course.»" Hard to forget, that. All things considered.

«He disappeared, no one ever found him. He face changed Tania. He he found some evolved I guess and he face changed…» She doesn't attempt to move away from Tania, not afraid of lighting her friend of fire when the ability for the next day or so was snuffed out. «He was Robert. James Muldoon was Robert Caliban. I married him Tania» She leans forward, resting her forehead against the other woman and to all outsiders looking, it's two friends, one consoling the other over something. Likely men, something.

When Abby leans against her, Tania pets her hair softly, but she's quiet for a long moment once the news is out. "«Such a terrible thing,»" she says eventually, "«You couldn't have known, Abby. I'm so sorry.»" It puts the whole relationship in a new and entirely unpleasant light, knowing who he was under it all. "«Did he explain himself?»" She seems to think he really should have.

She doesn't answer, closing her eyes, taking in the comfort of her friend and assurance that she couldn't have known. And yet she should have. Hindsight being what it is, she should have, but never did. Because of who she is, the nature of her blind trust in most individuals and the belief in the seed of good in all. Of second chances and turned cheeks.

«He tried. He tried but…» But she lost control. «I just lost control. I am so good at controlling it Tania and then… and then he said those words and I just imploded and he burned. Everything caught so fast, his clothes, his hair, oh Lord on high Tania, I forgot how fast a person burns when things are that hot» Abby slides her hands up across her face, burying it in palms and leaning against her fragile friend. «I did such a terrible thing and now someone else is paying for it»

"«Abby, it isn't your fault. It isn't. Anyone would have lost it with news like that. It was an accident. You didn't plan on hurting him, it was just an accident. I know you feel like it's all your fault, but it's an accident. And that man… he wouldn't have taken the blame if he didn't choose to. He could have told the truth at any moment.»" Tania holds Abby up without complaint, and she keeps an arm around her and a hand soothing her hair. "«It's okay to cry, Abby.»"

She's cried so much. Trying not to do it in front of Kasha, the girl old enough and cognizant enough to know that something is wrong. People don't cry for no reason. «Flint came Tania. I called, I didn't know who else to call. He came and he's in jail now. Because of me. I shouldn't have done that I should have stayed and been the one instead. I run away, I always run away.» Guilt just paints her voice and features no matter how hard and frequent people has assured her that it was understandable, that it was cruel what He had done, what he had kept from her. «Do you think Logan knew?» That the man had known this whole time and hadn't said anything?

"«He came. You didn't force him or frame him. He came to help you and that's what he's doing. Obviously, he thinks you're worth keeping out of jail. You should honor that, not feel guilty over it. You asked him for help, how he helped was his choice.»" Tania hugs her closer; she's always felt better about tangible comfort than vocal comfort. The latter is too easy to ignore.

The question makes her lean back again to look at her, though. "«No,»" comes from the gut rather than reason, but once it's out, she sticks with it. "«I'm sure he didn't.»" Even if she knows it's probably more likely that he did, it'd be a nice hurdle to avoid. If possible.

She shouldn't have said it, wants to take it back the moment she did, that it's un-christian to question whether your best friends husband did or did not know about ones husband not being the real deal and instead someone who helped participate in a cruel incident years and years before.

Abby wipes a sleeve across her nose, followed by the other across her eye, turning away from the Russian and towards the wall, sniffle and cough, try hard to compose herself in the wake of yet another micro-breakdown in a public place and in front of a friend. Lean against a wall with eyes closed beneath her ballcap as shoulders lift and fall with each shuddery breath.

Tania doesn't seem offended by the question, but she's had some time to reconcile that Abby and Logan have bad blood between them and that Tania happens to love them both.

Her hand stays on Abby's shoulder as she turns to try to collect herself, but otherwise, she gives her some time to do so without interruption. And when she does interrupt, she turns to more practical matters, to give her something else to focus on. "«I brought some money. I thought you might need it, you and Kasha. And don't bother saying no, because you're taking it. Where are you… staying? I know it's hard, but you can always come to me if you need help.»"

«Terminal» She shouldn't tell the woman, but she does. Logan has positive ties with the Ferry, and she trusts the younger woman. «Was the safest place. I'm bringing Kasha to the lighthouse kids, safer for her there, better than living underground and never seeing the sun. I might stay there for a bit.» She doesn't want to take the money, having made off with what she could get her hands on has left her with a significant sum in her possession but not enough and will never be enough. «I need negation drugs, more than anything. I'm trying to not dip into the stockpile, what little of it that we have» She hasn't really needed any, a good control on what she can do developed over years.

She turns back to Tania, face close, words hushed. «I can't come to you. You say that, but you know. You know that I can't come to you. I'm a widow of my own making, and without him, I wouldn't last long without having gone to ground. They'd take Kasha like they took that mans daughter and I'd be in eltingville in a heartbeat, you know that, and I wouldn't be able to do that. I've become too spoiled with my freedom»

"«Well, I'll see if John can manage some extra sent along that way,»" Tania says, of the drugs. But still, folded bills are pressed into Abby's palm. "«I know you can't. But send word. I'll help how I can. With you there, it'll be easier.»" After all, there is the connection between the Logans and the Ferry. "«I don't want… this to be the last time I see you. You're my best friend.»" It's bad enough, with Sasha gone, but Abby going underground as well is a hard reality to live with. But she doesn't cry, even if there's sorrow in her voice. "«We're all a little spoiled with our freedom. Just remember that I'm here, okay? If you or Kasha need anything.»"

Abby's palms curl around the money, closing it off from sight with a soft sigh. She'll take it. Use it to keep Kasha clothed and for the little luxuries that 6 year olds pine for. «It won't be the last time Tania. But it won't be like before» No dinners, no inviting over for movies or massages, or sitting with her friend during doctors appointments and getting pedicures because they can. Painted toes with flowers on them, are going to become a thing of the past.

«I love you Milenky» Borrowing a name that she knows Tania's brother uses for her. «Don't forget that»

Tania nods, she understands the difference. She's not happy about it, but she understands. When Abby uses that particular term of endearment, though, that's when tears start to form. But instead of letting Abby see her cry, she pulls her in for another hug. "«I love you, too. I'll miss you.»" Sniffing heavily, she leans back enough to press a kiss to Abby's cheek. "«You'd better go before I start blubbering all over. You take care of yourself.»" She hugs her friend one more time, eyes squeezing shut. But she does hate lingering goodbyes, so it's just a moment longer before she breaks away to start walking. She'll cry when she's around the corner.

And Abigail is walking the other way, away from Tania, away from where she was, a hand slipping into a pocket to exchange the money for a tossable phone. A phone slipped into a garbage can to be sent to some dump or a barge, taken to another location. Whether they'll meet again, who knows, but for now, she's lifting a sleeve to wipe at eyes and putting as much space between her and her friend. Walk with her guilt hanging around her neck like an albatross.

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