You Just Might Get It


abby_icon.gif colette3_icon.gif

Scene Title You Just Might Get It
Synopsis What you wish for, that is. Colette got it, but she never really wanted it.
Date June 10, 2009

Village Renaissance Building, Abby's Apartment

An average middle class apartment, it's populated with decidedly not middle class furniture. A solitary red suede couch occupies the immediate living room, with a battered coffee table and side tables as it's companion. A decent sized TV sits on a cupboard with a stereo, DVD player. The kitchen sports a relic from the 70's, with matching chairs that still seem to be in decent condition. The two bedrooms off the hall are distinguishable from the other, one bearing a gold cross nailed above the door, the other not.

In the corner of the living room is an ornate cage on a bird stand, a blue budgie within it's depths. In another corner is a massive cat tree house, and often occupied by a black cat with a red suede collar. It looks barely lived in, like the owners are not yet investing their effort quite yet to move in.

The vantage point that the Village Renaissance building gives to its tenants is a mixed bag. Tenants on one side of the building can view out to Chelsea's streets and a handful of old brownstones that still have considerable damage on their roofs from debris that was flung here during the explosion in 2006. On the other side of the building, the view of of a concrete and brick alleyway that divides the Village Renaissance from a five-story parking garage. It's the former of these two that is afforded to Abigail Beauchamp, meaning that all of the gray gloom of this rainy day is given to her in its monochromatic splendor.


The sound of the door buzzer is the only thing, save for Flint Deckard's irregular snoring, that has broken up the patter of rain on the apartment windows, even her bird has grown quiet and complacent with the static drumming of the lightly falling rain.


It's the second buzz without someone speaking, as if whoever's operating the call button downstairs hasn't gotten it through their heads that you're supposed to press then talk. It's only on the third try that whoever it is finally gets it right, and the welcome wagon might need some shoring up for this particular guest.


«Um— Christ, can you hear me? Uh— hey it— I'm really sorry to, uh, bother you? But— it's me— uh— Colette. Nichols?» It seems that time, and rain, hasn't changed her inability to form complete sentences half of the time. «I uh— I was wondering if I could maybe, um, come up and— there's something I… I wanted to talk to you about.»

Abigail stands at the phone, receiver in one hand pressed to her ear, looking at her TV and the image of Colette down below waiting to be buzzed in. Granola and milk her mouth being masticated like some cow chewing it's cud. Only with her mouth closed. Because her mother didn't raise her in a barn. It's her. How the hell did she find… her.

For that matter, what did Colette want. The button for the front door intercom is pressed, Abigail's Southern tones coming through. "Just… come in" She can form coherent sentences, unlike the blind person below. The series of numbers pressed on the phone that permits entry for Colette given. There goes studying tonight. "306. Take elevator go right, i'll be waiting" and then a click from Abigail's phone as she hangs up, severing the connection for now between the two women.

The intercom's security screen didn't paint a flattering picture of Colette. Her hair's a bit longer than it was the last time Abby saw her, and she looked something like a drowned rat from walking in the rain without an umbrella, for whatever reasons would possess her to do that. By the time the rumbling of the elevator is heard, Abigail is already waiting for her unexpected guest. As the doors slide open, the girl that is greeted by Abby's southern comfort is a far cry from the one she met in the fall.

Worn combat boots have been replaced by black dress shoes with little buckles on them. Her ratty old red hoodie is forsaken for a white button-down dress shirt and a thin black sweatervest, both of which are a bit heavy from the rain. Most unusual of all, is that fact that Colette no longer dresses like a boy at all, at least not today, wearing a black, pleated skirt that comes down to mid-thigh, dark stockings beneath covering matchstick-thin legs. Of course, it's the pair of blind eyes that truly separates her now from her then. The red highlights in her hair are trivial details next to those.

"Um, hey." It's not the most gracious of greetings, with all of the history between the two, coming from Colette. But then, she's not the most socially graceful person — at least that hasn't changed. "I ah," as she walks out of the elevator, the young girl walks like someone with operable eyes, someone who can see. There's no walking stick, no seeing eye dog, nothing but confident and assured footsteps — though still a bit clumsy, evidenced by her tripping over the threshold of the elevator.

Colette turns back, glaring at the spot, as if it did it on purpose. Some things, it seems, never change.

Abigail's at her door, half in, half out, the bowl of granola up and another spoonful makes it's way into her mouth. The eyes get her notice, the clothing too. "You're the second person to come today looking like a drowned rat" She doesn't want to let the girl into her home, but her momma taught her better and you don't turn away someone. Well, she might turn away Logan. "Get in here. I have dry clothes that might fit you, we can toss your clothes in the dryer. Just, Flint's sleeping in the spare room, so keep it down" Abigail lets her spoon drop into her bowl. "Quick, before the cat gets out"

Staring for a moment in Abby's direction, Colette jerks into awkward motion only when the demand about cats is made, and she hustles towards the apartment door, slinking inside on uncertain footing once she's past the door, pushing it closed with her back. There's a lot to process there, a lot of things said, an unfamiliar name dropped, but the distant sound of snoring cues Colette in on someone's presence, though the chirp of a bird at her arrival brings her head in the direction of the cage.

Colette swallows, awkwardly, and looks back to Abby after an uncomfortably long moment of protracted silence. "I ah— n-no it's okay I— I'll just uh…" drip all over your floor? Colette doesn't finish her sentence, for lack of something better to say. "I'm— sorry for— " she hesitates too long to sound natural, "f— for a lot of things?" Dark brows crease together where they can be seen behind her shaggy bangs. "I um— I— I fucked up, a lot, and I'm… I'm really sorry, for everything."

"Language. You're in my home, you'll not use base language here. Take your sweater off at least and lemme get you a towel. Cat is Scarlett, bird is Pila. She belong to Teo. You can tell me what you want when I get back with the towel" By then the girl would probably actually have strung it all together? Bad Abby, be Christian, stop thinking such.. mean things.

She disappears into the kitchen to drop off her bowl, hit start on the coffee maker and then dip back out. Abby's in warm flannel already, pink with white flowers, blue fuzzy bathrobe and pink simple slippers. Hey, it's a rainy day. She goes around a corner, black cat trailing in her wake like some feline that forgot that it's really not a dog and the sound of a closet opening and fabric rustling.

"S— sorry." Once more, Colette's pottymouth has gotten her a reprimand, living with Nicole hasn't helped matters at all. But what Abigail gives her is more names to remember and more things to be pointed out. But, the black cat is adorable and distracts Colette for a few moments before she, rather fumblingly, removes the sweatervest and drapes it over one arm. The young girl raises a hand, running it through her hair to try and fix her messed up and desheveled locks to no particular avail.

"Um— you— you don't have to— " Colette eyes the coffee pot, calling out to Abby from by the door where she stands. After hearing the closet opening, and seeing how determined her hostess is with being hospitable, there's resignation in Colette's slouched posture.

Turning her blind eyes down to her feet, she sighs, and steps on the heel of one shoe, working it off wit a wrenching motion of her ankle, using a stocking covered toe to repeat the process on her other shoe before taking a few experimental steps deeper into the apartment, walking on her toes the whole time. "I ah- this… this is a nice place. I mean— the whole building's nice. I— " she cuts herself off, and doesn't continue, perhaps something best left unsaid.

"It's safe, the odds of being kidnapped out in front of it are really slim, and if I am, at least someone will notice" Comes Abigail's voice, preceding the woman. Royal blue towel in hand and cat trailing along at her heels obediently. "I do Colette. My momma raised me better than to let a guest stand in her own wet clothes. Else why would flint be in the spare room" Well, no, there's other reasons for flint being in her spare room. "Stop telling me what I can't and can do in my own home. How can I help you Colette cause I'm sure as the sky is blue and the good lord has his hand in everything that you didn't come to make small talk and tell me how nice my place is" It's not snippy, or short, it's Abigail who's had a long day with phonecalls, people showing up at her door bearing gifts or their exhausted selves in need of a safe place to sleep, or in this case, seemingly blind girls in nice clothing.

Reacting to Abby is like reacting to a pink, fluffy bunny with a sawtoothed mouth. It's cute, gentle and warm on the exterior, but pet it the wrong way and it will bite your arm off. The dark-haired young girl is dumbstruck for a moment at the litany of explanations rolling forth from the blonde, her lips parting and then closing, a few cursory blinks given, before she finally stutters out, "I— got hurt." Well, that much is a given, in what Abby's old line of work was. "Back— at the lighthouse. I— the guy who broke in, I— I did this," she motions up with one hand towards her milky white eyes, "Um, my— " cutting herself off, Colette looks away. "I uh, I got hurt and— Brian told me to talk to you, because— because I finally want to get it fixed."

Terrified to admit to Abby that she actually has an ability, Colette wraps her arms around herself, cold from the rain. Blind eyes move to the towel, as if they could make it out, but there's some scrutiny in her expression that makes it clear she might not be able to make out details well. "I— I won't be offended if you tell me to get out. I… I know we're not friends, or— anything."


Lookit that. Abby swore.

Colette's mouth opens slowly, nothing comes out. There's not anything, not a squeak, not a whimper, especially not words. When her eyebrows finally descend from her hairline and her mouth manages to close, she tilts her head to the side and gives Abby an askance look with blinded eyes. "Fuck?" She asks in reiteration, because apparently it's okay to swear if Abby does it first. "Please— um— tell me that was," Colette glances over her shoulder, then back again, "t— tell me that was you remembering you left something, like, in the oven?"

"There's nothing on in the oven" There's an exasperated sigh as she unfolds the towel since Colette's opting to become like a lamppost and stand there. Across the rest of her livingroom she goes, shaking out the blue fabric before she wraps it around the other's shoulders. "I said fuck because.. Lordy. Colette, I lost my gift. It got taken away. I couldn't heal you if you held a gun to my head. Figures that Brian would send you to me now of all times"

"Wait what?" Colette's eyes grow wide as her fingers curl into the fabric of the towel, pulling it around herself as if it were a security blanket. "Wh— what do you mean taken? It— it isn't like— I mean, it's not car keys, you— you don't just misplace it!" Exasperated, Colette follows with padding footsteps, still walking on her toes, sort've like a cat does when the floor is wet, all uncertain about her footing. "You— wh— why? How?"

Exasperation bleeds out into despair as a bit of a whine comes from Colette, teeth pressing down onto her lower lip, tugging it back as she glances around the apartment as Pila chirps and tweets once. A sigh is huffed out, and Colette's focus turns back to Abby. "I— so— wh— what the hell'm I going to do?"

"Well, you could pray really hard" Comes almost whip crack sarcastically from the blonde. "And maybe i'll find it in my other pants, or maybe the washer since I might have left it in my pockets and forgot to take out God's gift when I was doing a load"

Colette works her jaw open and closed, staring at Abby at the esponse. Covering her face with one hand, the young girl takes a step back, then another, until she stumbles square into a wall, hands coming up and around her face in an awkward and somewhat hysteric motion before finally just waving dismissively in Abby's general direction. "I— I'm— I shouldn't have— " the towel slides off of her shoulders, stocking clad feet padding across the floor in backpedaling fashion towards the door.

"I'm— I'm sorry I— I shouldn't— " She doesn't have any comebacks for this, for the horrible twist of fate that this has presented her with. All Colette can do is awkwardly stumble towards the door in unfamiliar territory. "I— I'm sorry."

"Oh for St. Peter's sake. You're about to leave without you're shoes. Listen, i'm sorry. It's just, it's been a long day. Between last night and then Teo and then flint and classes, it's just been.. a really long day. At least have some coffee and I'll give you the name of another healer I know. He can help you. And I can give you the description of the guy who took my gift so that you can avoid him. Lord knows there doesn't need to be any other people being amputated of their gifts or having them switched like I did. Just calm the blankety blank down for once would you? Before I threaten to call the evo cops on you" Abigail's heading for the kitchen, presumably to pour coffee. "Or before you wake Flint."

It's a lot like getting yelled at by her mom — well, back when that happened. Colette tenses up by the door, glancing down where her shoes are, and then very gradually unwinds from the tiny ball of tension and fear she was, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair as she sighs out that stress, "S— sorry." She does a lot of apologizing, as of late, hardly any of it for good reason.

Watching Abby go for the coffee, Colette bites down on her lip again, dropping into a crouch as she picks the towel up and wraps it around her shoulders again, slowly rising up. "Is… Teo's okay, right?" The first selfless thing Abby's ever seen Colette do, asking about someone else's well-being before taking care of her own. "I— I don't I— " she glances in the direction of the irregular snoring coming from the other room, then back to Abby. "I… I'm sorry."

"He's not. He seemed okay, but then I called up Sonny to see how he's doing and apparently, Teo beat up Sonny" Or that's all she's willing to say. "I don't know what's up with Teo, things seemed.. not off" not really, not to her. "Listen, the guys name is Chuck Pepper, you can find him in Little Italy at the scraped knee's clinic. He can do what I do only less praying and he's a little weird. not bad weird just… weird" She comes bearing a thermos of hot coffee, holding it out for the younger woman. "I can toss you in a taxi and get you over there, or if you don't mind it, I can give you a lift on the back of my scooter before curfew nails us in the rear. I got a spare helmet."

Jaw set, Colette tries to process the idea of Teo attacking anyone, and it comes as comically awkward with a lot of flailing and a little Italian peppered within. She just can't quite wrap her mind around it. When Abby hands her the thermos, Colette wraps the fingers of one hand around it, but lets the towel go in the process, sending it sloughing off one shoulder, held on only by the fingers of her other hand to a degree where it really isn't doing any good.

"I— " Her voice cracks, and Colette stares down at the thermos. "I don't… is— is this Chuck guy like— can he be trusted?" There's an uncertain look from Colette as her blind eyes focus up on Abby, one stocking covered foot coming to brush against the other as her posture changes awkwardly. "I'm— I don't— " her head tilts to the side, "I— I don't know…"

"Well, he's unregistered too, so i'm pretty sure if you play the 'i'm unregistered you're unregistered, help me out here' card, that he'll play. Or you know, I can just go with you. I fixed his eyes, sorta, before god took my gift away. Listen, do you want the help or not Ms. Demksy? Or are you going to be like your adoptive father and just flat out tell me no, because you don't want other people wondering why and who helped you?"

"Wh— " Colette finally puts two and two together and gets an exclamation point, "Who told you I was— " Teo. Colette's brows furrow together, and the girl swallows audibly, stuffing one foot down into a shoe, wriggling her ankle back and forth to make the shoe fit, before repeating the process with another. "I don't know if I do— I— it's not about that anymore it— " biting down on her lower lip, Colette looks back up to Abby again. "Chuck Pepper, Scraped Knee, Little Italy…" her eyes wander the apartment again, one more tweet from Pila drawing her attention before it's returned to the ex-healer.

"I— I'm sorry about… about what happened to you, Abby. I— I," she closes her eyes, "I really am. I— I'm so sorry." Something stirs in Colette's words though, another thing left unsaid. "I— I don't know. For the longest time I didn't want to be healed, and— I don't know, m— maybe this is like, a sign, or something?"

The young girl turns towards the door, slinging the towel around to drape over a hook for hanging coats nearby. "I… don't really know what to do, but— I— I think I'm going to sleep on it. Um, I…" she glances back at the door, "M'sorry."

"God works in mysterious ways that mere mortals cannot fathom" Abby murmurs, standing, watching. She picks the cat up when it twirls about her legs, perching it somewhat against her shoulder and petting it. Still a kitten, making it's way into teenagedom. "Remember, in the church? All that telling me if you had my gift, you wouldn't squander it" Yeah Colette, lets take that little trip back. "I hope it's everything you wanted. Chuck will fix you. If you want it. If you don't.. you seem to manage well on your on."

She's not being overly kind. She really isn't and It's making her feel slightly bad. "Stop saying you're sorry. everyone sorry. Tired of sorry." She gives a Ben worthy sigh as she watches Coeltte gather her things and prepare to brave the out doors again. "Lordy, while I'm at it" She shifts past the other woman to snatch up a yellow rain coat. "Just drop the thermos and raincoat at any Ferryman's. They'll let me know it's there and I'll fetch."

After this long a time, Abigail has finally made Colette eat her own words. What has she done with her ability since getting it? What good has come from her having it, and now Abby having nothing? It's food for thought, and food for guilt, and likely the fuel to a thousand doubts about herself and who she is. The door opens without a word of goodbye, her heart sunk so deep into the pit of her stomach that she can't muster up the words. Colette's halfway out, before hesitating in the hall and turning to look over her shoulder, one dark brow raised as she looks over her shoulder, mouth open and about to ask something, but once more leaves things unsaid. Her silent, slow nod is all of the goodbye Abby gets. Maybe some other day, or maybe in some other time, Colette would have thought to ask a very pertinent question:

What is the Ferrymen?

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