Communication is a cornerstone

75. Ch10 Sc4&5

Hullo there my dearest Sparks. 🎇

My posting schedule is so confused right now, it’s as though I’m not really sure which way is up anymore, metaphorically speaking.

We are entering our windy season here on the farm, and the icy gusts are getting colder by the day. I envy all of you guys over there in the northern hemisphere having summer right now. It’s truly cold here.

Good thing I have those little pings on my bell to look forward to warming me as I have another installment, at last.

I wasn’t going to post until next week, but since I had a little spare time today and was able to hammer this one into shape, I’ll send it.

As always, I look forward to your thoughts.

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INDEX | Chapter 10 | Scene 1 - 3 | Scenes 4 & 5 | Next Scene → Coming soon.

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Previously: Misty considers exploring the manor, while looking for Luke and stumbles across Tom’s room. Logan catches her there, and overwhelmed with rage at what he sees as an unforgivable intrusion, he chases her out, only to be confronted by Luke, who demands he get over himself and repair the relationship.

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My anger melts when I see her there sitting on the rim of the fountain. From this angle it looks kind of like the angelic centerpiece is embracing her. I step around mumbling, “Misty, I, uh, I owe you an apology." kicking the little stones on the gravel path as I dither, delaying the moment that I have to face her. She is looking at her hands, her face slightly obscured by dislodged bits of hair but I can see her lips trembling.

I take a steadying breath, and looking up at the aching morning blue sky, I notice the warmth of the sunshine. I feel how the wind, blocked by the sheltering trees has all but ceased its chilling gusts. In the light and the warmth and the peace it dawns on me clearly, probably for the first time that I’m not the only one who lost Tom. Elle- Misty, cared for him too. Luke lost a son.

I’ve been so selfish. A minute passes before I manage to scrape together the courage to speak.

"I, I know that I haven't been very kind... to you... these past few weeks." I stammer, standing awkwardly in front of Misty. For the moment my empathy seems to have deserted me, I wish she would look up so I can guess at whether or not this is helping, but she keeps her gaze downcast, fidgeting, dashing a tear away now and then. I suppose I don't need that badly to guess. "Uhm... Look just… please..." She doesn't move but something in the slump of her shoulders and the slight inclination of her head amplifies the sympathy blossoming in me and I sit down beside her. After another long pause I start to talk.

"When we were little I was always jealous of Tom." I chuckle, thinking of how many problems that jealousy caused over the years, even when we weren‘t so little anymore.

Misty shows no sign of resistance, so I continue. "He was always bigger than me, stronger, tougher. And Father so loved to pit us against one another, sparring. He said it was so we could learn, but it was always Tom that won. There was a time that I actually believed that if I tried every day I would eventually be able to stand up to Tom, overcome him, even after Father left on his last mission. One day, Father had been MIA for months already, but General Morgan himself gave us the official declaration, of ‘presumed dead’. Maybe it was that but I don't know, something made me notice how slow Tom was and that day, I stopped trying to overpower him, and instead used my superior speed and eventually tripped him up- it was the first time I’d won, but in stead of feeling triumph I felt guilty. The look in Tom’s eyes when he realized that I had an advantage he couldn't hope to overcome, was heartbreaking... I never used energy to augment my speed against him again but, it was never the same." Looking up at the sky again, I sense her trembling and put an arm around her shoulders. Her body is warm even though she’s only wearing a light dress.

"I can see your grief now, and that I have not seen it before, well it hurts me as much as that first victory over Tom did. I hope you can forgive me for being so cruel."

I feel Misty tense slightly and then she breathes three words in a voice that no longer belongs to a little girl. “I’m sorry too.” She says, and my empathy unfurls like a sail catching the little bit of breeze that manages to slip through the sheltering trees. Immediately I feel a new sense of peace emanating from her, as though a weight has been lifted, with the low hum of quiet joy seeping through, and my heart shifts in an instant.

“I know. It's OK.” I say softly to Misty as she lies against me on the edge of the fountain. The water tinkles gently into the basin as a chilly gust of wind finds its way through the trees, sending a shiver through me, reminding us where we are.

“Shall we go in?” I have to force the words past the knot that has conveniently lodged itself in my throat, and blink away the moisture from my eyes that has been drawn 'by a stray dust particle' on the wind. I don’t know what’s going on with me. My stubbornness and my pain maybe, obscured it until now, but I can no longer deny that Misty means the world to me. I want to hold her forever. The thought crosses my mind that it might, in this moment, be nice to kiss her, but then I decide not to push my luck. Luckily I am rescued, before the opportunity to do just that presents itself. Luke comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray of steaming mugs. The cold fury has completely left his eyes and he smiles as he walks. One quick sentiment passes across my mental screen. “You've made me proud, Son.”

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Two weeks later…

I’ve been thinking about Chrys a lot lately.

It’s not just her personality, her warmth and optimism, her hopefulness and courage. I remember how comfortable we were with one another, as if she were another part of myself, another body sharing the same soul. I remember how easily we conversed in our own way, and how it made me feel like I counted even though the entire world seemed to delight in telling me I didn’t. I miss feeling like that.

Thinking about the encounter in Tom’s room, and afterwards by the fountain… It’s funny. I know Luke has been trying to make me feel at home. I was quite at home on The Base until I saw Cathy’s lies for what they were. And it’s better now between Logan and I but I wonder if I’ll ever feel like I belong here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I had a home, maybe I’m searching for something that isn’t possible.

As I go through the repetitive motions of my workout, I find myself increasingly frustrated. None of it really matters does it? What am I doing this for? It’s hard to think of a reason other than survival, but is survival even worth it if I have no purpose?

At The Base there was at least hope of that, being a soldier, I could keep people safe, help others, stop the bad guys. But that’s over now.

Luke has his work, his hospital, his research. Logan seems satisfied with his training and the occasional fight. He has been sharing the gym with me again which is nice, but he doesn’t talk much, at least not as much as he used to, and I’m stuck.

Day after day, week after week, I survive. Penance is under control, actually more than it has been in a long time. But if I let up on my training I have nothing else, and how long before Luke gets frustrated again, or someone comes looking for me?

I’ve been trying to form these questions into words since the fountain but even when I’m alone, I never get past the first few syllables. At dinner, I listen to the Luke and Logan talking so easily. I smile and nod and pretend everything is fine but neither of them can possibly understand how infuriating it is watching a conversation happen so easily, so casually. As though it doesn’t take extreme mental fortitude, the ability to push past an excruciating stinging in your vocal chords and a massive mental block, complete with horrific images flashing before my eyes, flashbacks of the worst memories that refuse to allow any words to form as soon as the intent to speak them arises in my mind.

James did his job of shutting me up, well.

It occurs to me that Luke might be able to undo James’ hard casting in the wires of my brain if I let him, but then there’s more hard casting to get past before he can do it, even if I tried to let him in. James didn’t want any half hearted hacker to influence the conditioning he so painstakingly instilled in me and so he heightened my natural resistance to all but his mental intrusions on top of my own learned skill. It’s pretty amazing that Luke even got as close as he did that time he forced himself on me.

It’s scary to think what a true Mind Smith can achieve with a child’s malleable mind in four cycles. He could have turned me into a monster, taken my emotions and my memories away completely. I’d become a machine that would follow orders and never disobey, but he was worse than that. An utter sadist, he let me keep myself precisely so that he might torture me with it and revel in my pain, a sick ritual performed night after night for his pleasure.

All of this runs through my mind as I lift the weights, or swing between the bars, or slice through the water. But it doesn’t change anything. I don’t have the words.

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Next Time: Misty has become frustrated with her lack of purpose and inability to communicate, along with being plagued by doubts over her place in the universe. How is this going to affect her relationships going forward, and what will Logan do now that he is realizing his affection for her?

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