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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 73

This is, from a technical perspective, one of the most challenging chapters I have ever written. Out of six characters mentioned in this chapter, five are based off real people, most of which have only interacted online. That meant a lot of emailing and getting second and third opinions, hashing out details...

I am inordinately proud of the result. I think this is one of my favorite chapters to date, honestly. I hope @charlylimph-blog, @satan-parisienne, and @baelpenrose are proud of it, too.

(P.S. Don’t forget to submit your ideas for the name of the new colony!)

The next few days were a glut of good news. I was, admittedly, riding high on the success Simon reported in regards to the Galactic Education course, which was only bolstered by Alistair’s ever-more-excited updates about what he was learning – in Simon’s section, of all places. Reports from Grey indicated that everyone on the ship was recovering well from the medical crisis that Else inadvertently caused. Miys was doing everything they could to make Nixe a new, upgraded tail and replacement weights before she was finally released from medical. Else, themselves, were adjusting well to their newfound homes… likely bolstered by the borderline-competitive aquascaping that was taking place in some of the aquariums, each equipped with a modified translation implant so we could check on Else’s health.

They were a bacterium. Did they really need tiny rollercoasters that they could eat? Someone thought so, apparently. You could even watch a live feed of it, if you wanted.

Between all the good news and the sheer amount of reading I was engrossed in regarding the personnel files, I hadn’t seen anyone outside of work or home. Not even my family. Tyche and Alistair at work, with occasional visits from Xiomara and Grey. Conor and Maverick at home, talking about our days over dinner. I made a point to check in on Derek and Sam every couple days, but trusted the rest of my family to let me know if there was something they felt the need to tell me.

Maybe that’s why it took so long. I hadn’t even realized that three weeks had passed since the last time I saw Charly until she burst into my office, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. “I made it out of the room before falling apart,” she blurted out with a painful smile as those drops rolled down her cheeks. Immediately, I bolted around my desk to the smaller woman, coaxing her to a seat to figure out what was wrong. My protective instincts went into overdrive, forcing me to calculate just how likely I was to take Coffey in a fight. Not likely, but he would know it happened, I decided as I took a deep breath.

“Charly, what’s wrong?”

She made three aborted attempts to tell me, sniffing back tears the entire time, before she finally broke and blurted out, “I can’t do it. Please don’t make me. This is just like the last time. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I just… I can’t. I know it’s mandatory, but – “

“Charly,” I repeated. “Nothing that makes you this upset is mandatory. And you aren’t stupid, not close. Everyone on this fucking ship is smart, including you. So, tell me who I have to kill – or maim, I’ll settle for maiming if I have to – so we can fix this.”

After a couple of deep breaths, she nodded. “The class. I just can’t understand it… no matter how many questions I ask, no matter how much I study, it just doesn’t make sense. Mr. Farro is right, I’m just an idiot…”

I made a cutting gesture with my hand and whistled sharply. “Mr. Farro? The teacher told you that you’re an idiot?” Every flame in every hell started boiling inside of me. Processor two started gathering every creative torture method I had ever heard of while processors one and three focused on the woman in front of me.

She shook her head. “Not that exactly, no. When I kept asking questions, he told me that the material is literally in my native language, so what didn’t I understand, and just kind of glared at me until I stopped asking questions, and now I’m so far behind and I’m failing and…” She dissolved into sobs again.

“Okay.” I forced myself to be calm when all I wanted to do was tear apart this… monster who made her feel this way. How in all of creation did someone like this ever get certified to teach? How did Eino not catch this kind of thing? “I’m going to have Coffey come get you and take you home. I’m going to stay right here until he arrives, okay?” When she nodded, I flicked up my datapad and sent a short message to her partner that she was in my office and needed him to pick her up.

“You’re going to meet Tempest,” she whispered when I handed her a hot cocoa.

When Coffey arrived a few minutes later, a shadow fell over his face when he heard Charly crying. She had warned me about this… another side of him that she would only refer to as Tempest. Seeing him now, the name was very appropriate. “Who did this?” he asked, his voice deep enough to send shivers down my spine – and not pleasant ones. It was the voice I imagined Hades possessed.

I held my head high and tightened my arms around Charly. “Someone else. Someone I need to deal with. But I don’t trust anyone else to take care of her while I do that.” Both sides of him were incredibly protective of her, with no limits to what they would do.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “I will deal with it.”

A brief flash of Coffey/Tempest standing head and shoulders over an educator flooded my mind. I shook my head. “I know what you would do, and I don’t see it ending well for anyone. Charly needs you. I can handle this, and I need you to make sure Charly is going to be okay until I’m done.” Swallowing my fear, I stared him down. Tempest could be dangerous, to anyone they didn’t consider theirs – never without a reason, but still. I didn’t know if I fell in that category, but I knew good and damned well that Charly did.

Fortunately, she chose that moment to speak up. “Please take me home, Tempest. I know I’ll be safe at home, with you.”

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded before coming over to pick Charly up. Unlike the fireman’s carry that Coffey usually used in a joking manner, Tempest carried her like a kitten – a precious, fragile thing. She moved just enough to snuggle against him, clearly protected. “You will tell me if you cannot handle this.” The last, addressed to me, was a command.

“I promise.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and mentally reminded myself that he posed no danger to anyone who was trying to protect Charly. However, when a man that large is scowling at you, you sweat.

Once they left, my brain very quickly turned to the matter at hand – Arthur fucking Farro. Even if Charly wasn’t someone I considered family, few things in my life ever enraged me like a purported educator who belittled students with questions. I had already spent hours with Simon and Tyche, picking that subject apart and giving him advice on what to watch for. Full of piss, vinegar, and righteous indignation, I marched out of my office and straight to Xiomara’s.

When I burst in, she was clearly in the middle of a meeting, but in that moment, I didn’t care. “Xiomara, I need a witness in case I decide to do something stupid.” Without checking to see if she followed, I turned on my heel and started my journey to the educator offices. On the way, I ran into Tyche. My poor, unsuspecting sister was staring intently at her datapad while she tried to walk past me to her office. I stood directly in front of her, forcing her to glance up. “Good, I need a second witness. Come on.”

“What? Wait – “ she sputtered as I heard Xiomara catch up.

“One of the educators made Charly feel like an idiot and she was crying.” With that, I resumed my pilgrimage. I could hear Tyche swear softly behind me and start interrogating Xiomara, who knew as much as Tyche did at that point.

That’s okay, I mentally assured myself. We’re almost there.

I stopped outside the office that was ostensibly assigned to the cad I was after. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders. The moment I started to opened my mouth to request entry, strong fingers grabbed my shoulders.

I whirled, only to meet Xiomara’s eyes. “Arthur Farro is teaching Charly’s unit?” she asked, squinting at me skeptically. When I nodded, she only turned her head slightly, still staring me down. “And you’re going to confront him.”

“What else am I supposed to – ”

An evil gleam flickered in her eye as she straightened, smoothing my shirt. “This is going to be good,” she smirked before giving me a nod to proceed.

I lifted my chin, trying to imitate Tyche’s most imperious demeanor. “Arthur Farro, this is Sophia Reid, requesting entry.”

Without a reply, the door slid open to reveal a sparsely furnished office. A simple and practical deck sat in a far corner, two equally practical chairs across from it. The occupant was seated with his back to the corner, facing toward the door. I couldn’t say he was facing us, because he was absorbed in what was on his datapad.

Just as I was opening my mouth to lash out, he spoke up. “Hello, Councillors. I take it someone in my course came to you, begging to be exempted from having to actually learn how the Galactic Community functions? Because, gods forbid I expect people to study.” With a tone that was so dry it could teach the Sahara a lesson, he glanced up and deadpanned. “Horrid of me, I know. I mean, sure. Lacking understanding of the galactic community that we just joined should cause us no shortage of issues – just look how pre-Unification Earth politics worked. But I’m sure that’s not an important subject to stress over.”

Oh, it was on. “First of all, do not call me Councillor right now. I am not here in any official capacity. Instead I am here for a very personal and pissed off reason.” When he started to open his mouth, I cut him off. “Charly Harper. She is in your classes. She also came to me today - sobbing by the way - because she felt like a failure. A very bright, very intelligent adult woman was sobbing my office because of you,” I spat before continuing. “No student, not a single fucking one should feel that way. So-called ‘teachers’ like you make me sick, with your power trips and holier-than-thou attitude. You are in a position to improve people, and instead you degrade them - “ I cut off when I noticed him gesturing emphatically at Xiomara, who only shrugged and shook her head. “I am fucking talking to you, Farro. Me, not Xiomara. She is not here to help you, she is here to keep me from doing something monumentally stupid. If this is how you treat your classes, I’m frankly appalled that you were ever certified to teach a dog, much less a child.” I stopped, panting.

Brown eyes gazed at me with an unflinching expression. “Are you done? Feel better that you’ve lashed out at the monstrous teacher?” I opened my mouth, only for him to shake his head. “No. You said your piece, now you get to hear mine. I am well aware that Miss Harper is intelligent - her pranks alone show me that. If you haven’t experienced them, I fervently hope you have the chance, because they are simply breathtaking in their complexity and subtlety. However, I am therefore entirely at a loss for how she is doing so poorly in this class." He took off his glasses and rubbed his face before replacing them. "She asks questions, I do my best to answer them, even though it eats up so much class time. I have asked her to stop by my office outside of class, hoping I can take more time to ensure she understands the material… I know we are covering government right now, but still. She has never stopped by for assistance. I even checked that the translators were sending the material in the right language!” His face settled into another flat stare. “So, when you come in here and decide to attack me with all the restraint and thought of a rabid lemming, know that I am doing everything I can to try to assist her. She’s clearly bright, so she should be able to understand the material.”

I waited three seconds, until I knew for sure he was done. At that point, I took a deep breath. “Yes, Mr. Farro, she is very intelligent.” I turned my gaze up to his face, my best imitation of Tyche’s glare clear for all to see. “Charly. Also. Has. A. Fucking. Learning. Disability,” I ground out, stepping forward with each word. When I stopped, we were glaring at each other across his desk.

Abruptly, he straightened and looked thoughtful. “Oh. Well, that explains it. I can work with that.”

“You fucking better, Farro. She may not be my blood, but she is my family. You fuck with her, you fuck with me. Or with Tyche. Take your pick.”

He glanced over my shoulder at my sister, who was undoubtedly giving a much more murderous impression that I would ever be able to pull off. When he looked back at me, I was treated to a scowl. “You remind me a disturbing amount of someone I knew once. She also had a tendency to lay claim to ‘family’ that were no actual relation to her, and she was fiercely protective of them. There were so many times she didn’t stand up for herself when she should have, but she would have jumped into a volcano for her ‘family’.”

“Sounds like you could have learned a thing or two from her,” I tossed back at him, unwilling to flinch at the entirely-too-apt comparison. “Maybe then, she would be here instead of you.” As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. I knew I had gone entirely too far, no matter what came next.

I didn’t get a chance to apologize, however. Before I could even open my mouth, he sneered at me. “Funny. I would be more than happy to have her here instead of the less-stable discount imitation that is taking low shots and squawking at me about not knowing something no. One. Told. Me.”

“It’s in her file. Section 3, Line 5.”

“Well, that would be helpful if I had ever gotten the files.” He ground his teeth hard enough to be heard from where I stood.

I sputtered. “Wait, you never got it? Wait - Files? Plural?”

“No, Councilor Reid - “

“Sophia”

“No, Councilor Reid, I did not get any of the files for the students in any of my sections. Otherwise, I would have read them thoroughly. People who ignore student needs and call themselves educators are sadists with the intellect of coked-up chimps - and work about as well in a classroom”

I was at a loss for words. It was disturbingly similar to what I had thought on my way to confront him. Inhaling deeply, I schooled my expression and tried to regain my composure. “Mr. Farro, I am clearly in the wrong here. Files regarding anything that would require accommodation were sent - were supposed to be sent - to all of the teachers, two weeks before course assignments were issued. Just in case any educators weren’t trained to accommodate. As far as what you just said - “ I looked away, ashamed. “That’s exactly why I was so angry when I came in. I didn’t know that you never received the files, so I assumed you were one of those sadists you just mentioned. I - I am so sorry for my behavior. I know I can’t make this right.” I flicked open my datapad. “But at least let me get you those student files and find out what happened.” When he nodded, I shot a message to Derek requesting the files be sent immediately to all of the educators, by Derek, no one else. When I got the response, the words ‘rank amateur’ and ‘ignore any isolated mechanical failures in regards to’ caught my eye before I quickly dismissed the screen. Plausible deniability was sorely underrated sometimes. Facing Farro, again, I braced myself. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I truly do regret that I didn’t ask for your side before tearing into you like that. Even though I am not in any position to ask for favors, please just don’t take this out on Charly. Hate me all you want, but she didn’t ask me to do this. She just came into my office begging to drop the course.”

He stared at me for an agonizing heartbeat before relaxing and waving off my request. My heart sank until he spoke. “I would never take someone else’s behavior out on Charly, or on any other student.” A measuring look targeted me. “You had a lot of those teachers that punished the entire class because one student wouldn’t stop being disruptive, didn’t you?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled in agreement. More confidently, I clarified. “I think all of us have been punished entirely too many times for the mistakes of other people. Maybe some of us were lucky enough to only experience that in the After, but some of us got a taste of that as children, too.”

“You know…” he slowly ventured. “Even in the Before, that kind of behavior was beyond appalling.”

I nodded. “It was a war crime, actually. A friend told me that once.”

He had been looking away, trying to find something, but his head abruptly snapped up. “Yes! It’s against the Geneva Convention!”

“That’s what he told me, yeah.”

Farro sat in his chair and leaned back, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling. “You know, technically, collective punishment of children isn’t a war crime. The Geneva Convention was intended to apply to prisoners of war, not civilians in a time of peace.”

“Ah, ah!” I scolded, shaking a finger at him. The previous tension in the room bled away as we seemed to find common ground. “I grew up in the United States. Prior to the Unification, we were always at war. It’s part of what led to the establishment of Global Parliament.”

He smirked softly, but judging by the fact that he was looking past me, it was more at a memory than at me. “That doesn’t automatically make you a prisoner of war.”

“No, but it does mean I was a civilian of a protected class, who was denied their human rights and had collective punishment used against me in a time of war.” I crossed my arms and stuck my nose in the air, trying to keep the conversation from getting to heated again. Slyly I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

“You weren’t forcibly detained.”

“Au contraire, mon frere! I was a child. I was forcibly detained at all times, one could argue.”

He shook his head while giving me a shrewd look. “That is such a technicality. It reminds me of the time my friend - the one I mentioned - tried to argue that international diplomacy was like dating.”

I giggled, surprised by the turn of conversation, and joked, “I told a very close friend once that foreign relations at the time could be greatly improved by the proper application of pot roast.”

Farro didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked like I had punched him in the chest. “With a chocolate pie.. for dessert…” he whispered, steadily getting paler and paler.

By this point, Xiomara’s composure had gone from one of barely-constrained mirth to one of confusion, matching Tyche. I felt my stomach try to drop out of the FTL field as the ghost of a friend long since gone started screaming in my mind. “He said not to kick the ass of anyone I’m dating…at least not in the declaration of war sense…”

Without missing a beat, he nodded. “And you said that if ghosting them as a form of embargo doesn’t work…”

“Bring out the heavy weaponry and go for a scorched-earth breakup,” I whispered hoarsely. There was no possibility.

As Farro and I stood there in dumbstruck silence, I heard Xiomara ask Tyche “What are they talking about?”

“I have no idea,” my sister hissed back.

“But you speak fluent Reidish!”

“That isn’t what’s happening here,” she pleaded. When I turned to her, I saw eyes that begged for an explanation.

All I could do was give her a pleading glance before I turned back to meet Farro’s equally stunned expression. “Fee?” he finally asked with a querulous tone.

That was all I had to hear. “Silannod?” Behind me, there was a yelp. No doubt, it was Tyche realizing who I was speaking to. I tried to smile, but I knew it was watery. “I told you I would survive the apocalypse. It wasn’t zombies, but still…” ‘Silannod’ was the online name of a very good friend of mine from Before. We never had the chance to meet in person, but we had spent hours each day talking about writing, books we liked, politics of the time… Anything that would have been too controversial for a casual acquaintance, we discussed as fervently as if we could solve all the problems of the world. Even Tyche had been familiar with them, and had heard me talk about our conversations.

When the world ended, I counted them among the dead. And now, looking him in the face, it was clear that he had done the same for me.

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #original writing #original fiction #science fiction #sci fi #apocalypse #lost friend

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quasieli · 5 years

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A Second Chance - Chapter Five

[Chapter Four] [AO3 Link]

“I do not know what you are expecting of this tour, Miss, but, if I may be frank, I do not have much time for comradery.”

The young boy and woman stood outside of the dormitory door, a silent standoff bubbling beneath the surface. Both knew there was more going on here than what was being let on, but neither knew the other’s side of this story. Vex wasn’t going to back down and let this boy, Bren, she now knew, get rid of her so easily.

“We do not wish to waste your time here,” she began, folding her arms and standing her ground, “I understand you have a big exam to study for, but what’s the harm in me wanting to get to know a bright, young scholar like yourself?”

“There is no harm, I suppose,” Bren spoke with an undertone of suspicion, “but I am just curious as to why.”

As Vex opened her mouth to speak, the rest of her party joined the two, both looking curious, and a touch annoyed from having to chase the other two down.

“Are we interrupting something here?” Percy cocked an eyebrow as he took in his wife’s body language, “We can step away if you two need a moment.”

“Don’t be silly, darling,” Vex relaxed as she hopped over to Percy, laying a quick kiss on his cheek, hanging onto him as she looked towards the boy, “Young Bren and I were just having a nice conversation.”

Bren squirmed at the intonation of his name, as if it was now somehow dirty. He could not understand why this woman was making him feel so uncomfortable, something about her was getting under his skin. He felt insecure. He had not felt that way in a long time.

She had been kind to him yesterday, and he did not want to take the kindness for granted, but he felt there might be some sort of ulterior motive behind the seemingly altruistic action. He knew he had to keep his guard up. He knew he had to be an impenetrable wall. He could do that. But then why was it so hard for him to look up at her?

There was the obvious reason, the reason that made the Archmage call him “weak” and say that he was just coming up with excuses. The same excuse which gave him an unquenchable thirst for arcane knowledge and the nearly airtight memory to recite it back with ease. It was not a weakness then, no, it was just how his brain worked. But no, it was not that, this was something more.

Taking a deep breath, Bren looked up at the three guests, fighting against his internal urge to look away. He kept his gaze steely, but still, something else was there to give away his nerves. Just as the de Rolos had seen him do the day before, he began to nervously tug at his shirt sleeve. However, this time, Vex got a glance at something more.

“Bren,” Vex said as her face fell into a look of worry, reaching down towards the boy, “what’s that under your sleeve?”

Vex crept toward the boy slowly, as if not to spook him like an injured deer. Peeking out from the long, crimson sleeve was the beginning of a white wrap, a bandage, Vex supposed. However, she could not get a good enough look before Bren pulled the arm away, tucking it behind himself a little to defensively for Vex’s liking. And then there was that look again, there and then gone in an instant. Vex hated seeing that look.

“Did someone hurt you?” she asked, her tone soft and face riddled with concern.

“Nein, ach, no no,” Bren stuttered, unsure of why he faltered when he had his answer to this question locked in his head, “Just... a mishap during some training. It is still tender, is all.”

Vex wanted nothing more than to push forward, to get the truth behind the obvious lie, but she understood that perhaps he was not ready to talk about that yet. She didn’t want to push too hard and risk losing him completely.

Feeling trepidatious, Vex turned to Percy and Allura, each wearing their own look of uncertainty and worry. Percy’s look then shifted to pensive, Vex could see the bubbling of an idea behind his eyes. The pondering look still on his face, Percy took a bold step forward, approaching the boy.

“You are Zemnian, yes?”

A foreign tongue spilled out from between Percy’s lips, a language Vex had never heard him speak before. It was almost comical how both Vex and Bren cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the man at nearly the exact same time, both curious as to Percy’s sudden dialectical skill.

“Yes, I am,” Bren responded slowly in the same language, “Is there some sort of issue with that?”

Percy relaxed into a self-satisfied grin, his idea, perhaps, proving worthwhile, “Not at all. I was just curious. My family, a few generations back, is, as well, and came from a place not too far from here. I learned the language as a child, but it has been years since I have practiced.”

“Interesting... Well, your accent could use a little work, but your grammar is spot on,” Bren’s face began to brighten, his cheeks filling with the warmth of his familiar native tongue.

“That is good to know,” Percy respond, shooting a quick glance over at a still perplexed Vex. “By the state of your accent, I am partial to guess this comes to you a little more naturally than Common. Would you prefer this? I can translate for our friends.”

Bren shook his head, “No, that is not necessary, but it is kind of you to offer. I do miss speaking this beautiful language, but Common is the language of this school,” he paused briefly, “So Common it shall be.”

Percy nodded, flashing a friendly smile at the boy, “Very well, but the offer still stands.”

Bren’s own smile widened slightly at the other man, a hint of nervousness around the edges of it. “Now, if you all do not mind, I am going to retrieve something from my room and then we can continue on,” Bren disappeared behind his door in a flash, but not before sneaking another curious glance Percy’s way.

“What was all that?” Vex asked as she approached her husband.

“Finding common ground,” Percy boasted, “I figured it was worth a shot.”

“You got him to smile, that’s definitely worth something,” Vex herself smiled, glad to have gotten even just a glimpse of Bren in a more relaxed and authentic state, “That was a really good move, he seemed really happy to be speaking… what language was that?”

“Zemnian,” Percy supplied, “it’s a predominant language spoken in Blumenthal, I thought it was worth a shot to see if he spoke it. Although, he does seem hesitant about speaking it here.”

“Why do you think that would be?” This time it was Allura who spoke up, seemingly having to remind the pair that she was also there.

“As far as I know, Zemnian is not considered a ‘proper’ language, for lack of a better term,” Percy replied with a grumble, “it’s considered a peasant’s language, not something that would be spoken in a place like this.”

“Well, now that we know he is at the top of his class, I think it is safe to assume that he is here on a scholarship,” Vex added, “So, we are dealing with a very smart young man who probably did not grow up with great means and is probably in a great deal of trouble. How shall we proceed?”

///

He could breathe now, behind closed doors and away from those people. It was strange how the solitude that had brought him anxiety as of late was now providing him with solace. Many restless nights had been spent in this room, pondering the coming days. Bren had reassured himself time and time again that he was doing the right thing; this was for the good of the Empire.

The Archmage had drilled tomorrow night’s plans into his mind over and over again, it was really all very simple, and yet… No, he could not have these doubts.

Bren did not consider himself a patriot, he loved the Empire and what it stood for, but he believed patriotism was reserved for blind zealots. He knew better. He had been lucky to have the privilege of getting to know some of the inner machinations of his wonderful homeland, and the more he knew, the more he yearned to protect it. All of his training was going towards protecting it. Years of work, finally beginning to pay off in these last few months. He was starting to become the man he always wished to be.

Then why was the sight of a simple necklace breaking him so?

The piece of jewelry had caught his eye the day before, he had not thought much of it, or so he thought. It was not until the half-elven woman interrupted him that he realized just how transfixed he was on the pendant, the bright stone at its center particularly catching his eye. It was a beautiful piece, he had seen others like it at the many harvest festivals of his youth, but this was the first time he may have been able to actually afford it.

But why would he buy it knowing the plans for the coming days?

Perhaps it was as an apology, to both himself and his mother, for what he was about to do. But it had to be done. He could not let the safety of the Empire be compromised, no one was exempt from punishment for this crime. Not even his parents.

He looked once more at the necklace, laying in a small, open box on his desk, a handwritten note beside it. His thumb brushed across the square of paper, written in his fine handwriting were the words “Abba und Eema, ich liebe dich. Liebe, dein schatzi.”

He sighed heavily, he had to do what was right. Taking the necklace out of its box, Bren placed the pendant in his tunic pocket, having it in his hand made him feel strangely safe. Perhaps that would get him through this day with these peculiar visitors before he would return to his childhood home the following morning for his final test.

It would have to work. He had to be strong.

#Critical Role #CR 1 #Vex'ahlia #Bren Aldric Ermendrud #Caleb Widogast #Percy de Rolo #Allura Vysoren #A Second Chance #My Writing #it's done!!!!

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beatricethecat2 · 5 years

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if/then (2.0) - 20

A few chapters back, I mentioned wrapping this up soon. Flash-forward to now…well, I see where that impulse came from, but also where it falls flat. There needs to be a balance (or as much as I'm capable of) within the narrative arc, so it needs to get pushed farther. That means diving into people and places I'm not as familar with and trying to bring them to life (plus calling back to details and weaving in new ones…you know, writing). So bear with me, it's plotted, but the gaps need filled in. If you’re still on board with this, I thank you heartily. I’m posting two chapters now because I didn't want to leave you hanging at the end of this one. All typos are mine, I’ll do what I can to catch them later (edited 11/30). Look for chapter 21 to be posted soon after this one. Links to other chapters in a reply.

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Despite Morgana’s warnings, the hunt for Helena continues. Myka proceeds with caution, even with Claudia's better-than-government-grade VPN installed on her laptop. Books have become her go-to, with no bots to track or caches to mine. They're slower in the long run but prompt new ideas, which she, in turn, passes off to Claudia.

One thing was certain: even if Helena hadn't planned this ahead of time, Christina’s comfort would be paramount. Cooking classes for kids? After school music activities involving drums? Kempo classes throughout the UK? All searched for and through with little gain. But the question was: how far undercover would Helena and Christina have to go? Was an Interpol intervention different than a regular police one? Claudia watched countless hours of British police shows in hopes of learning more, but was left feeling more paranoid than informed in the end.

Meanwhile, Myka tacked on oddball acquisitions in remote locales to keep from drowning in "what-ifs." There, in relative obscurity, having thrown off her tails, she could scour libraries and bookstores freely. She was at a loss for exactly what to look into, so she grasped onto the list of "Happy Christmases” Helena had taught Christina. She cross-referenced books with internet materials, but kept detailed notes in her sketchbook.

She drew the tiny shape Guernsey and noted the island's pros and cons. At six miles long and three miles wide, it looked like a quaint place to hide. But to travel, they’d need a boat or a plane, and it was closer to France than the UK. And without easy access to a city, Christina wouldn’t be content. She crossed it off the list.

Scottish, she learned, was still spoken in The Outer Hebrides, which, according to one of her guidebooks, boasted an island shaped like an upside-down ice cream cone. Christina would be into that, living on a food-shaped island, so she sketched it out and turned it upside-down. She didn’t exactly see the resemblance, but that wasn’t important. What was: the chain was far from the mainland with only one road plus ferries connecting the islands. Its population was mostly fisherman and crofters; it's landscape, idyllic, but rural. Again, with no city nearby, Helena wouldn’t sequester them there for any length of time. She put it in the “no” column for now.

Northern Ireland was a definite maybe, though they'd included Belfast in their earlier search. She drew the outline of where Belfast and West Belfast met, as apparently, West Belfast held a population of Irish speakers. But Ireland, the island, was massive, the largest part was an entirely different country. That could cause problems if Helena and Christina had to run. She made a note to check into Irish border crossings and moved on.

Cornwall, a fingerlike peninsula jutting out into the Celtic Sea, had multiple transportation options and several cities. They could hide in its rugged countryside while retaining access to several populated towns, and even jet up to London if they were feeling bold. Cornish as a language was only recently being revived, so there was no specific area in which it was spoken. She put a star next to it anyway, as it seemed the most likely. She sent her findings off to Claudia and kept researching.

But then, at an auction a few weeks later, her theory was put to the test. A fifteenth-century atlas lay open to a map of England, Ireland, and Wales, where she traced a path between her researched locations. As a line formed along the furthest edges of Great Britain, it hit her--if one wanted to send their enemies on a wild goose chase, that was it. The “Merry Christmases” were a red herring, something for Christina to broadcast readily, as she'd read children in witness protection programs often gave away their whereabouts accidentally. And she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Claudia was not going to be pleased.

--------------

She's had months to prepare, but here she is, at the last minute, taking time off work to finish several new paintings. Luiza had hooked her up with this group show at a gallery Amanda raved was “blowing up,” but about a month ago she nearly baled. But Luiza insisted she show, saying their work together would lead to stellar reviews. Plus, Luiza needed the press to bolster her artist visa application, so how could Myka refuse?

Well known in her native Sao Paulo, but working hard to make a name for herself in the States, Maria Luiza Izquierdo's work captivated Myka from day one. Her abstract patterns drew her in, with their brightly colored stripes and weaved textiles, bubbling animatedly off the canvas and onto the floor. Her freedom of concept and command of materials was beyond anything she'd ever seen. She definitely was an artist on the rise, and Myka was glad to have made her aquaintance.

And from the looks of Luiza's impressive resume, Myka was an amateur in comparison. Out of the eight other artists at her residency, she’d bonded with Luiza the most. Her ambition was contagious, mind moving a mile a minute, always seeing the good in things. Plus, her smile lit up the room, making it impossible to sulk in her presence. She wouldn't have made it through the first months of Helena’s disappearance without the distraction.

They met up as often as possible when Luiza was in town, her visits kicking Myka out of her increasingly mechanical routine. It was good for her cover, hanging out with Luiza and her friends, plus it lifted her out of the heavy funk she was buried in. Luiza prodded her to show her new work, much like Helena used to do, inviting herself over when Myka failed to do so promptly. There were many things about Luiza that reminded her of Helena, beyond any physical resemblance, but when those thoughts arose, she promptly tamped them down. Loneliness conjured desperate parallels. If Helena were standing next to her, there’d be no comparison.

Having couch surfed though most of her friends, Luiza asked to crash with Myka for this trip. Since Abigail's visit went smoothly, Myka thought, why not? Having company for a few days, especially someone who could help her with her art, seemed like a good idea. But before she had time to prepare, she was called away unexpectedly on a work trip. She left spare keys with the guard at her office and told Luiza to sleep in her room for now. They'd inflate the air bed when she got back.

Upon her return, as she rolls her suitcase down the hall, a mouth-watering scent fills her lungs. It’s not unusual as her neighbor often cooks for relatives, but she’s surprised when the scent intensifies inside her door. The figure in her kitchen, her long, dark hair glowing in the backlight, stops her in her tracks. She’s transported to a different time, a happier one, one she has hopes to reclaim in the future.

“Olá, Myka!" Luiza greets, turning to face her. "How was your flight?”

“H-Hi!” Luiza’s enunciation, choppy and light, is the exact opposite of Helena’s velvety smoothness. Her messy bangs and bright red lipstick further shatter the illusion. “Not terrible. What’s all this?”

“Mrs. Rodrigues, she made us feijoada!”

Myka ditches her bag and steps into the kitchen, where all resemblance to Helena withers as she stands next to the slightly-taller-than-her Luiza. A pot bubbles on the stove as greens stew in a pan. A steaming pot of rice sits on the counter, accompanied by bowls of colorful garnish, more bowls than she remembers owning.

“Mrs. Rodrigues? I've barely spoken to her.”

“She was very much interested in this stranger entering your home.” Luiza points to herself with her thumb. “She is from Brazil, you know. Santos, where my avó lives."

“Avó?”

“Ah...grandmother,” Luiza says, taking a moment to translate the word in her head. She slips two bowls from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. "She feels bad for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“‘Too skinny. Works too much. No namorado.'” Luiza draws out the “o” and circles a wooden serving spoon in the air.

“Namorado. I think I know what that means. So definitely not.” Myka snags an orange slice from a bowl and pops it in her mouth.

Luiza smacks her hand with the spoon.

“Ow!"

“Save for dinner."

“Sorry.” Myka rubs her hand, flashing a mock pout. "It’s nice she’s feeding us. I was dreading takeout.”

“This is much, much better. And I bought cachaça to make batidas.” Luiza holds up a bottle of spirits, grinning ear to ear.

“Nice!” Myka says, smiling back.

“Only the best for my generous host,” Luiza says, adding a small bow. “Now, we eat.” She hands Myka a bowl and sets to making drinks.

At the gallery the next day, they help install each other's work, though Luiza’s pieces are larger and more complex then Myka's. Myka stands back, contemplating placement and aesthetics, while Luiza enlists several other pairs of hands to assist. Myka's in awe of Luiza’s persuasive charm, yet another trait she shares with Helena. But with Luiza, there's no alternate agenda, whereas Helena’s was often circumspect.

“Perfeito!” Luiza exclaims as she steps away from the completed install. “You are in my head, my friend. I should take you everywhere!” She sweeps Myka into a hug that lingers longer than expected, though a hug like this is not unusual. Luiza’s concept of personal space is more forward than her own.

Dinner takes place at a friend of Luiza’s, at a garden party in Silverlake. Myka mills about, catching up with acquaintances, mingling awkwardly with other guests. When everyone takes a seat, Luiza pats the chair next to her, insisting Myka situate herself there. As the meal progresses, Luiza drapes an arm over the back of Myka's chair, an act which Myka finds slightly unsettling. Again, it's not unusual, as Luiza's done it to others, but Helena used to do something similar as a sign of ownership. But as wine is swapped out for brandy, she shifts her focus toward the lively art and commerce banter. Fielding criticism of the trade is liberating, as at work she so often has to hold her tongue.

The next night is the show opening, and the dress Myka picks out isn’t “LA” enough for Luiza. Luiza takes her to a consignment shop where her friend works, where she’s handed a flowery faux-forties dress to try on. Myka twirls to the left and the right, staring at herself in the dressing room mirror, the knee-length skirt bouncing back and forth gaily. It’s a cheerful, tasteful garment, hitting her curves in all the right places. Not that her current wardrobe doesn’t, but it typically flaunts her assets less. It’s a choice she would have made pre-apartment tragedy, but since then, she’s toned down her style. Which suits her job fine, plus with Helena gone, who would she be trying to impress? But it feels freeing somehow, like she’s entered a portal to a simpler time. When she leaves the dressing room, Luiza gasps, and her friend claps with glee. She decides yes, it is perfect, perfect for the show, perfect for the Myka she needs to project.

The scene is giddy as they dress in Myka's apartment. Luiza styles Myka's hair into a voluminous mass of curls cascading over her shoulders. The shade of lipstick she convinces her to wear is so bright her eyes glow green. But it’s Luiza's blouse that steals the show, handmade by her, matching the warp and weft of her work, upstaging her skin-tight leather pants. Myka hasn't had this much fun preparing for an event since grad school with Abigail. The levity is certainly welcome.

There's an afterparty after the after-party, with drinks flowing freely along the way. Myka has no idea how much she drank nor what time they left, but their cab zooms home in no time. Luiza hangs off Myka's arm as they shuffle down her hall. Both giggle as Myka fumbles with her keys. They throw their bags onto the same chair as they stumble in.

“You need a couuuch, minha amiga," Luiza slurs, marching into Myka’s bedroom and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “We drink more! You bring the cachaça. But first I—” She bends towards her shoes, but topples forward, catching herself just barely, palms down, arms extended as if performing involuntary yoga.

Myka hurries in and levers her up. “My shoes, I am sorry,” Luiza says, bending forward again to finish the task. Myka pushes her back, then tries to kneel but wobbles, grabbing Luiza’s knee as she lowers herself down. She slips off Luiza's heel, and as she attends to the second one, Luisa buries her hands in Myka's curls. Luiza angles her face up and leans forward, pressing their lips together.

She’s kissing me. Why is she kissing me? The act is not entirely unpleasant, but not quite right. Is this my fault? Did I lead her on? I didn't, but...did I? She replays the evening in her head, but it’s hazy.

Luiza's hands slip down, cupping the base of Myka's head, deepening the kiss, urging her to rise. Myka breaks it off just then.

“Finalmente,” Luiza says, her voice soft and low, leaning in for another kiss. Myka jerks away, but Luiza's thrown off balance, hands still buried in Myka's curls. Luiza slips off the bed entirely, and they tumble to the ground.

“I can’t do this,” Myka says, pushing Luiza up at the shoulders.

“You have another lover.”

“It's not that."

“Then why?” Luiza lifts herself up so that her arms and legs are now straddling Myka. "Your eyes were on me tonight." She leans in for another kiss, but Myka turns her head.

“This is your ex,” Luiza snaps and sits back on her heels. “You have found her. You’re going to…” She frowns. “Ask for her back."

“I don’t know where she is.” Where did that come from? Myka scoots back, carefully extracting herself from under Luiza's hold. She lifts on her elbows, but makes no sudden move to rise.

“I see it in your eyes. Something has changed.” Luiza falls back, sliding down the edge of the bed, dramatically thrusting her legs out until she’s in sitting position. “You will visit her in London, this woman who destroyed your heart. Tell me where she is, this-this, desgraça, ela que vá a merda!”

Luiza’s Portuguese slurred, but her tone pushed the point across. Myka bends at her knees and inches further back, sitting up while hugging her legs to her chest. Luiza knows everything about her, the entire fake story about Helena as she’s cried in her beer many times over it. But Luiza’s never become this agitated, and she’s not entirely sure why. “H-How did you know I was going to London?” She only found out a few days ago and knows she hadn’t mentioned it.

Luiza drags a hand, raggedly, through her thick, dark locks and looks off to the side. "It was there, on your phone, the text. You left it on the table. It lit up.”

The text, "Sotheby’s London confirmed,” could have honestly meant anything. And she’s been super careful since Morgana’s warning; she hasn't talked about searching for Helena at all, so why would that text set off this tirade?

“It is good that you find her. You must put her away. She is stopping you from better things.” Luiza pushes off the bed and crawls closer to Myka, reaching out and laying a hand on Myka’s knee.

Myka flinches, her head says, "run away," but gut tells her to stay. Something’s not right here. Something big. If Morgana were here, what would she say?

“Put her to rest so we can begin.” Luiza moves ever closer, threading a curl behind Myka’s ear and pressing kiss to her temple.

Myka’s chest tightens as panic sets in. And here, she thought she was being disingenuous, but all along it was Luiza. Luiza’s been grooming her this whole time, tricking her into trusting her, into giving away details about Helena’s situation.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Myka says, releasing her legs and pushing away. Careful now, rejecting her outright will look suspicious after how close you’ve gotten. “I-I’m really flattered, a-and you’re a beautiful, talented woman, but…” Luiza was alone in her apartment. Did she dig through her files? Plant bugs in the walls? Has she been monitoring her calls and texts this whole time? “I, um…there is someone else, if I’m being completely honest.” If only she’d taken up Morgana’s offer, she’d have someone vetted, but now...

“Que?” Luiza says, raising a brow.

“M-My friend Abigail and I, we’ve been talking.” Wait...if Luiza is a spy then she’ll know that isn't technically true, she’ll already know everything about her. “I-I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m planning to when she's in town for Thanksgiving.”

“Abigail. The doctor who lives far away?”

“Only until her post-doc is over. Then she’ll transfer wherever she wants."

“She is your long-time friend. What has changed?”

“I, um…” A catalyst, Myka, come on…think! “When she came to visit for my birthday, she said…she made a comment about maybe dating women. And that stuck with me.”

“She will return your love?”

“I think so.” Or kill me for being an idiot.

Luiza backs towards the bed, looking genuinely shaken. In the moment, she’s simply a bruised suitor, not a potential spy at all.

"I didn’t want to jinx it by saying it out loud.”

“What is jinx?”

“Mess it up before it starts.”

“Que dá azar. Bad luck. Ok.” Luiza holds Myka’s gaze, seemingly gauging the truth in the situation, nodding her head up and down in tiny strokes.

If she doesn’t believe me, what do I do?

Luiza's eyes close as her head falls back against the bed. She’s silent for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath in. “It is time for sleep. And muitos litros de água. Much water.” She hauls herself up, limbs shaking, and walks as steadily as she can towards the door. "Boms sonhos, Myka,” she says, turning back just before exiting.

“Goodnight,” Myka replies, her voice cracking from the lump stuck in her throat. Once Luiza’s gone, she tries to rise, but gravity pulls her down. What have I done? She rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. I'm stupid. So stupid. She’s not my friend. Why can’t I have a friend? A twinge of pain throbs through her brow, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. I have to fix this, fix this now. I need to call Claudia. Or that number Morgana gave me. She rolls over and sits up. But my phone’s in my bag and my bag's on the chair. I can’t go out there, not tonight. She crawls over to her bed and climbs on top, curling up into a ball. Everything’s fucked. Helena, I can’t take much more of this. Where are you? I need you to come back, now.

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #W13 #fanfiction #if/then #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #links to other parts in a reply

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 5 years

Text

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: i have recently been advised that i should use the “citrus scale” so... Lemon (eventually)

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

“Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5

Leonard slammed a fist on his desk and ran the other hand down his face, ending the comm. He couldn’t take much more of this. If someone didn’t find Jim soon he was going to have some kind of nervous break down, in fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had one already.

He decided to take himself up on that drink and left his office, not even giving a wave to anyone at the nurse’s station as he stalked past. He was on his way to his room when that old saying popped violently into his head, playing over and over again, “you don’t know what you got till it’s gone,” and hell if that weren’t true.

He’d known Jim Kirk since the day he sat next to him on the shuttle in Riverside, and he’d be the last to admit that there had been something between them right from the get go, but now he wished he had. He’d spent years trying to convince himself that what he felt for the kid wasn’t anything more then friendship, but after a few close calls he started to realize that maybe he couldn’t keep up that charade for much longer. Now Jim was missing, and every emotion that he had tried for all those years to push down and ignore, because ain’t no way the kid would have feelings for a grumpy old man like him, came quickly flooding back to him, pushing him into a sort of self destructive spiral.

It started slow. The first few nights Jim was missing he had spent them locked up in his room, trying to quell the frequent panic attacks that were suddenly plaguing him. Thoughts and visions filled his head of Jim dying in so many different ways. Jim floating in space, mangled in the shuttle crash, by infection, by dehydration or starvation… alone. The thoughts quickened his heart and tightened his chest, but no matter what he did he couldn’t vanquish the thought of Jim dying alone and without knowing what he should have told him years ago.

He had hoped that throwing himself fully into the rescue efforts for Jim and the cadets would maybe help deter these thoughts, but it only made them worse. Each day he would join Spock, Nyota, and a few other members of their crew in mapping out different routes and possible locations. Only, when Leonard started seeing for himself what kinds of planets Jim could have landed on, he was sure one of his panic attacks would turn into a heart attack. As he stood motionless and silent in the ready room off the bridge, looking at pictures and listening to Spock talk about different planets along the shuttles possible routes, “volcanic planet,” “made up of 87.65% water,” “host to a race of hostile inhabitants,” and more, Leonard could hardly contain his very high, and quickly rising, level of anxiety.

He managed to hide it fairly well during these meetings with Jim's rescue crew. Holding the emotions inside and saving his attacks for when he was in the privacy of his own room, alone, where he could drown his fears in a glass of bourbon. And that’s where it quickly went down hill, and fast. What started off as his usual one or two glasses a night, turned into three, then four, and eventually he found that even the entire bottle couldn’t stop the scenes from running through his mind.

Now, eighteen days into searching for Jim and again coming up empty handed, he found himself sitting on his couch, having already emptied bottle number one, and half way through bottle number two. And even that didn’t seem to be enough tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lieutenants log, Stardate 2264.96. It has been eighteen days and still no sign of the captain or our missing cadets. I have sent out alerts in all areas of the quadrant in all native languages as well as several foreign ones, and still no one has reported seeing our missing shuttle or crew members...”

Nyota sighed, running a hand down her face. She had been on the bridge for she didn’t know how long, composing alerts and translating them into as many languages as she knew in an attempt to find Jim, or at the very least have someone come forward with some information that could lead them in the right direction. At this point they were grasping at straws and practically guessing when it came to searching planets. They might as well have closed their eyes and thrown a dart at a map. They had no idea where the shuttle had even gone, and no one in this entire quadrant seemed to know either.

She ended her comm and turned back to the screen where she was working on her latest translation. The bridge had been quiet all shift, everyone solely focused on finding their missing captain and crew.

She heard the rush of air as the turbo lift doors opened and closed, and heard the footsteps as they walked steadily across the bridge and stopped behind her. Though she didn’t turn around and instead continued her work.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, an attempt to gain her attention. “Lieutenant,” the steady voice of their acting captain broke through the silence, “have you been here for both shifts?”

She turned to face Spock, realizing now that the bridge crew behind him were not the faces her usual shift crew. Quickly turning back to her screen and looking at the time she sighed and slumped back in her chair, “Yeah, I guess I have.”

Spock leaned over her slightly, looking at the screen, “Are you sending out another alert about the captain and the cadets?”

“Yes.”

“How many have you sent out?”

“Not including the thirteen native languages of this quadrant…” she thought for a moment, “this will be the eighth.”

“What language?”

“This one’s in Klingon.”

“May I?” She gestured to the screen and pushed her chair to the side so Spock could better view the message. He leaned fully forwards and began reading the text, “Attention Klingon citizens in the Omarian quadrant. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your help. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

When he finished reading the passage, he backed away and turned to her, hands folded behind his back, “Do you think the Klingons would help us if they did hold information pertinent to the captain’s rescue?”

She shrugged, “It’s worth a shot at this point. So far everything else has been a bust.”

“You do have a point, Lieutenant.” She nodded in response and Spock watched as her head slowly began to fall into her chest. He placed his hand on her shoulder again, jolting her from her half asleep state, “Come, Lieutenant, you must rest. If any information is discovered I will contact you immediately.”

“No,” she said as she stood from the chair and Spock began gently guiding her towards the lift, “Spock, I have a few more languages I wanted to translate that message into. Just-”

“Nyota,” he stopped her with a hard look, “we will be no help to Jim, the missing cadets, or the rest of the crew if we are not well rested. Get some rest and we can continue the translations tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, getting into the lift, “you're right. I’ll be here tomorrow morning to continue the translations.”

Spock gave a nod as the doors closed and she ordered the lift to her deck. In seconds the lift doors opened again and she slowly made way to her room. She was just about there when a familiar blonde head of hair came towards her from down the hall.

“Christine, what are you doing up so late?”

“Emergency surgery on one of the engineering crew,” she huffed a breath and rubbed her already red eyes, “I was actually already off shift and in bed when M’benga called me in to help.”

“Doesn’t doctor McCoy usually take the reigns on these kinds of things?” She quirked a brow and crossed her arms, “At the very least he's usually present during the surgery.”

“That’s just the thing,” she shrugged, “no ones been able to get him on comms. He left the sickbay around noon without telling anyone and no ones heard from him all day.”

“That’s odd.”

Christine rubbed a hand up her arm, shifting slightly closer to whisper to Nyota, “I'm worried about him, Ny,” she stepped back, not sure if she should disclose this next bit of information to a lieutenant, but she needed to tell someone and she didn’t think that someone should be Spock, considering his track record with Leonard, “I keep finding empty bottles of alcohol all over his office, he's leaving shift early, I don’t think he's done a surgery or even an exam on anyone in weeks, he won’t talk to anyone, spends most of his time in his office gaping at those maps. I know this all has to do with Jim going missing, and believe me we are all feeling the loss right now, but I'm afraid he's spiralling into something he won’t be able to pull himself out of and soon it might… it might get really bad if someone doesn’t pull him out.”

“You’re right,” she nodded, “what's his room number? I’ll check on him.”

Christine pulled up the padd in her hand and tapped away for a second before looking back to Nyota, “Room, 226.”

“Ok, I'm on my way,” she turned to head back to the lift before calling out, “I’ll comm you when I’ve got him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nyota arrived at room 226, the room of her good friend Doctor Leonard McCoy. She knocked and waited, looking around the deserted hallway. It was long past midnight and the ship was eerily quite as she waited. When she heard no answer or rousing from the other side she knocked again, this time shouting, “Leonard, I know you’re in there, please let me in. I know this change in you is because of Jim but we can talk it out, just open the door. People are worried about you.”

Still no one answered and she would admit that she was starting to get worried too. She took another look around the halls, making sure she was still alone, before quickly hacking into the lock pad beside Len’s door and breaking in.

She entered to the room in complete darkness. She closed the door behind her and called out for Len but again there was no answer. She ordered the computer to turn the lights on and gasped when she was finally able to see. And what she was met with was a room full of countless empty bottles, a passed out doctor on the floor in front of the couch, and a bottle of half empty bourbon slowly leaking in his hand.

She ran over to him, turning him over and taking his face in her hands shaking him gently, “Leonard, wake up!”

When all she got in response was a groan and a still unconscious Leonard, she grabbed her comm and called Christine.

“Uhora!” Christine’s voice came through the comm, “Did you talk to Leonard?”

“Not exactly,” she grunted as she hauled the limp doctor off the floor and slung his arm over her shoulder, “meet me back in sickbay, find an empty room and prep a bed for me. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Before anything else could be said she ended the call and began dragging Leonard across the room and slowly down the hall. He was no help to her at all, only grunting in protest at the upright position and occasionally shuffling his feet and throwing them both off balance. And after what seemed like a life time they finally made it to the lift that would take them to Christine.

When she had first laid eyes on Leonard lying lifeless on the floor, her first thought was to call Spock. He was after all, their acting captain in Jim's stead, but when rethinking that strategy she decided against it. Spock and the doctor did not have the best past and she could only imagine the fight that would ensue when Spock found out that his chief medical officer had nearly drank himself into a coma. And with Jim being gone and tensions already on the rise, she was sure it would most likely end in a blood bath. Instead she decided it best to keep this incident quiet and leave Len in the trustworthy hands of nurse Chapel.

When the lift door opened Christine was already there waiting for them, eyes blowing wide upon seeing the limp state of Leonard hanging off uhora’s shoulder. She quickly ran inside the lift taking up Len’s other side and lead them all to the room she had prepped in the far back of the sick bay.

They landed Leonard on the bed and shaded the windows before closing the door, leaving the three alone.

“What happened?!” Christine instantly began scanning Leonard, checking all vitals while waiting for an explanation.

Uhora sighed, running a hand through her hair before answering, “Jim still missing has clearly put a strain on all of us in many different ways. I found him passed out in his room surrounded by empty bourbon bottles. I can’t even begin to guess how many bottles he drank before he passed out.”

Chapel ran a scanner over him, eyes on her padd. “He’s lucky you found him and not someone else.”

“Those were my thoughts exactly,” she nodded, “I thought about calling Spock for help but I thought maybe it would be best to keep this quiet.”

“You’re probably right.” She pulled the scanner away, placing it back in her pocket and put the padd on the bedside table before turning to Uhora, “He’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t fix with a few good hypos.”

Uhora smirked, crossing her arms and standing, “I’ll be back in the morning to talk to him when he’s more himself, so don’t let him leave this room until I get here.” Chapel nodded, “And you should get some sleep too, Christine. Don’t let this fool keep you up all night.”

“I will. Good night, Nyota.”

“Good night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time in a long time Leonard woke up to a blinding headache. His eyes were so heavy and sore they didn’t even want to open, and sitting up was definitely not going to happen right now.

He ran a shaking hand down his face trying to remember what happened. He remembered making it to his room, then soon after receiving a comm from Spock informing him that the mission had yet again been a failure, and they would have to move on to another planet to search for Jim. Next thing, he had a bottle of bourbon in his hand and the rest is a haze.

Though he didn’t remember what happened he was sure he could put two and two together and figure it out, but how he had ended up in the sickbay would remain a mystery.

As he rifled through his jumbled thoughts for an answer the door opened, letting in a little too much light for his over sensitive eyes, and he shot a hand up to cover them.

“Oh, is that too bright for you?” A woman's voice hit his ears and he groaned in response, “I'm sorry, let me just open it a little more then. Or how about I do you one better. Computer, lights one hundred percent!”

As more light flooded the room Leonard hissed and rolled onto his side, which was a horrible idea as he felt his stomach lurch with the motion. Though he was far too stubborn to blow his stomach contents, and also not willing to stand to run to the bathroom, and forced himself to get over the sudden wave of nausea.

He let out one more groan as his stomach screamed at him, along with his liver, and he slit his eyes open just enough to see a familiar figure standing before him, arms crossed. “Uhora. What are you doing here? And why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” She spat, walking closer to him, “I had to drag your dumb ass here after I found you passed out on your floor last night! I had to pull Chapel out of her room after she already worked a double and assisted on an emergency surgery because you were nowhere to be found, just so she could save your sorry hide from dying of alcohol poisoning!”

Yep, it was just as he had suspected. He clutched his stomach as another wave of nausea hit him and he looked up at her, “Look, Uhora, I-”

She raised a hand to stop him, “I don’t even want to hear your lame excuse Leonard. I had every intention of coming in here this morning and being as sympathetic as I could, but I couldn’t do it. I know your situation is slightly different then the rest of us, but you're not the only one who’s effected by Jim's absence!”

His brows furrowed and he pulled himself up in the bed to sit up slightly, “What do you mean my situation is different?”

She met his confused eyes with ones filled with pity. “Leonard, I know how you feel about Jim, I think everyone knows.”

“How I feel about him?”

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed facing him, all sternness replaced with the sympathy she spoke of before as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “The two of you were made for each other. I’ve seen the way you look at him, and how he looks at you, I’ve seen the way you act around each other and I know it’s more then merely friendship between you. But Leonard, you have got to pull yourself together. Jim is out there somewhere, along with fourteen other cadets who all need our help. No doubt when we find them they are going to need their chief medical officer in top condition to patch them up, and Jim is surely going to need his Bones just the same way.” He laid his head heavily back on the bed, letting it all sink in as she continued, “If you love him as much as I know you do, you'll sober up and get ready for when we do find him. And when he does get back, you should probably do something about that unspoken bond between the two of you. If this is anything to learn from, it’s that our lives are too dangerous and unpredictable to wait until it’s too late.”

She gave his arm a pat and left him alone to wallow in her words. He sighed, thinking over what she had said and decided that as always, Uhora was right… about everything.

He rolled to his side again and searched the room for his comm finding it on top of his shoes beside the bed. He grabbed it and rolled to his back, holding the comm in front of his face, before taking a deep breath and speaking as calmly as he could. “CMO’s log, stardate 2264.97. It’s… it’s day nineteen now in our search for the captain, and I won’t lie… I am struggling with his absence. After some much needed words of wisdom from Lieutenant Uhora I’ve come to realize some things, or rather finally come to fully accept them. All I’ve got to say is we better find you soon, Jim, and we better find you alive, cuz I’ve got a lot to say to you kid… a whole hell of a lot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A very Leonard heavy chapter XD And I hope y’all are still enjoying this despite the horrible things I do to our boys, but I promise there are some good times ahead! As always let me know if you would like to be tagged, and thanks for reading <3 Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @weresilver-in-space @medicatemedrmccoy @reading-in-moonlight @resistance-is-futile81 @0dannyphantom0 @haveyouseenmymind @jimboy-mccoy @flaminglupine

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hamilficsfordays · 7 years

Text

New Beginning—Chapter Eight: Tragedy-Prone

Disclaimer: I don’t actually speak spanish so I apologize if any translations are incorrect

Also posted on Ao3

Summary: Autumn in New York has arrived and school has started for everyone including Alexa. Unfortunately, that’s not the only thing that has started.

Rating: M for language (in English and Spanish), teen binge drinking, mentions of rape

Words: 7828 (rip me)

Askbox / Masterlist / Chapter Seven / Chapter Nine

Tags:

@promisesandmore @justanotherfanficreader and @huffleheyguys who asked me to tag them in literally any writing.

September in New York meant the start of school. The slight excitement Alexa had was shadowed by the overwhelming fear of seeing the boys who violated her that night again. Still, she pushed on.

“There’s no shame in being homeschooled until we can transfer you to Brearley next semester.” Lin offered that morning while en route to the school.

“I’m not going to rot in that apartment for the next four months, Lin. I need to do this.”

She had on a plaid green skirt, a white polo, black stockings, and a long sleeve green cardigan. This was within the required uniform standards Alexa carefully adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan to make sure they were covering the bandages on her arms while staring up at Lin from the chair on the subway. The train was packed, full of others headed to work or school that morning.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing down at her, attempting to read her face. She rolled her eyes, a light smile.

“Remember what Dr. Montgomery said?” she reminded him of the doctor’s appointment they’d been to the day before.

“As long as you take your meds as needed, you’ll be fine.” he repeated.

Alexa carefully pulled a full pill bottle of Zoloft out of her messenger bag, She took one pill and washed it down with a sip of water from a plastic bottle that she’d been holding on to. “I took my meds today, okay? So stop panicking. You’re more worried than I am.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Would you like one?” she offered, smirking.

“Very funny.” he glanced out the train window in search of a number as the train slowed to a halt.

“This is our stop.”

They arrived at the school shortly after.

“Okay, I gave you a free ‘worried parent’ pass to travel with me to school this morning. Your pass has now expired.” She gave him a light pat on his arm. “You no longer have permission to escort me to school.”

“Do I have a hug pass?”

“Those can only be redeemed at home or not ten feet from my school.”

Lin hugs her anyway, kissing the top of her head.

“Why do I make rules if you’re just going to break them?” she demanded, feeling him laugh against her.

The laughing stopped however as he saw Eric approach the school after exiting his town car. There was a smaller more sheepish boy by his side, looking slightly on edge, though Eric being beside him seemed to ease his tension slightly.

Alexa caught a glimpse of what had made Lin so serious, feeling a wave of fear wash over her as he looked their way.

He approached them then, the smaller boy beside him.

“You really shouldn’t be over here,” Lin started, stepping in front of his daughter. “It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”

“Lin,” she stepped in between them, facing her father. “You can’t threaten someone my age. No matter how much they genuinely deserve it.”

“Ease off, George Lopez,” Eric started. “I’m here to apologize.”

They both stared straight at him, taken aback by his words. Frustrated, he glared at the younger boy beside him who nudged him forward, urging him to continue.

“Sorry for…” he sighed, glancing in another direction. “Hurting you a month ago. I was a jerk and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Hurting me?” she shot back. “That’s the best you can do?”

Alexa glanced at the boy beside him, who seemed to be curiously fixated on Lin.

“Is that your conscious?” she asked, directing to the younger boy. “He’s not large enough for you to compensate.”

Eric was enraged then, stepping close to her and leaning in.

“Don’t talk about my little brother, okay? I apologized, so get off my back.”

“Did you apologize? Is that what they call an apology where you’re from?”

“Oh my god, you’re Lin-Manuel Miranda!” Grabbing everyone’s attention beside Eric was the smaller boy, pushing past the two teens to stand directly in front of the older man.

“I listen to In the Heights like, religiously. I mean I did, before Hamilton came out. Now I listen to that religiously. I’m Daxton,” he took Lin’s hand, shaking it furiously. It’s an honor to meet you!”

“Th-thank you?” Lin politely smiled back.

“What the fuck is In The Heights?” Alexa demanded, receiving a confused look from both Lin and Daxton.

“Only his first musical and winner of Tony award for best musical of 2008! I was friends with this boy at my old school who was like—well he was Spanish—and we would always spend weekends at his place where he would try to rap all of Usnavi’s lines. It was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“You have another musical?” she asked, prompting another confused look from Lin.

Alexa glanced at Daxton, at Eric, and then back to Daxton.

“Oh my god.” she finally said. “Your brother came out and you gained a conscious.”

“Shut up.” Eric shot back.

“Eric and I have been trying to get tickets for Hamilton since it started at the Public. Right Eric?” he nudged his older brother eagerly.

“Dax really likes the show—” he tried.

“Me?! You sing Yorktown in the shower like every night!”

“Oh my god.” Alexa stifled her laughter, Lin doing the same.

He kissed the top of Alexa’s head again. “Have a good day.”

“You’re gonna have to be more genuine if you want to see that show, Eric.” Daxton folded his arms, glaring knowingly at his brother.

“Okay well… We should go.” Eric lead his brother away, glaring at Alexa who only smirked back.

This would serve as the highlight of her morning, a morning otherwise full of being called a slut or being told that she deserved it while walking in the hallways.

“Hey, how much for a lap dance?” Across the hallway from her locker, someone tossed a wad of dollar bills at her to a chorus of laughter.

And to think Lin and V are paying $47,000 a year so that I can get treated like this she thought, closing her locker and kicking the wad aside as she headed to her first class.

The class was small, quiet when she walked in. She recognized no faces, a relieving fact.

It was AP US History, a class she was destined to fly through—at least partially.

“Sorry, I’m late!” A small, blonde, white woman who could’ve easily passed for a student rushed in, papers in one hand and coffee in the other. “Mama needed a little pick me up before class started.” She shook her paper coffee cup.

There were a few chuckles, though most of the students didn’t find it amusing.

“Okay well, welcome to AP US History. I’m Dr. Rhodes, but you can call me Annie, and this year we’ll be learning how our country came to be. Included in that learning will be a single chapter on Civil Rights that’s only short because this book was written by a bunch of white people.” she laughed, prompting no reaction from her students but a small smile from Alexa, the only non-white person in the room.

“Let’s start with attendance.” she pulled out a single paper from the stack in her hand, listing off each name one by one until she got to Alexa.

“Alexa Jordan?” she asked. Alexa raised her hand.

“The same Alexa Jordan who’s the daughter of that handsome gentleman who wrote Hamilton?”

“Uh… Yeah?” she laughed, feeling the other students’ eyes on her. “I guess?”

“You know I was a TA when I was getting my masters at Yale… They’ve got a lot of love for Hamilton over there. Several of his original documents stored away. I think you and your mancandy father would have a lot of interest in that.”

There was an awkward silence.

“In fact, let’s all go! Road trip!”

More silence.

“No? No Hamilton fans here? You guys are missing out. That show is AMAZING—”

“Okay, can we actually talk about something important?” A girl in the back interrupted.

“Well excuse me,” Dr. Rhodes glanced at the attendance list again to find the girl’s name. “Hazel! I hate to admit it but you’re right. Let’s get started with the rape, pillage, and murder of hundreds of thousands of Native Americans when the white man first arrived here by ship.”

At the end of APUSH, she headed to her locker only discover an array of papers taped to the front.

“Oh great, another smear campaign.” She thought, starting to tear them off. A quick glance at one, however, changed her perspective.

Sign up for the Drama Club! This year, with special permission We’ll be producing a production of Hamilton: An American Musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda

She glanced at each of the posters, all of them identical. A safe way to pander she figured. With no friends and virtually no one to talk to, she essentially had nothing to lose. She’d made a mental note to head to the school theatre at the end of the day.

She caught a glimpse of Eric headed down the hallway toward her that made her shiver involuntarily. He made a passing comment at another girl that Alexa couldn’t hear. Her retaliation, however, was loud and clear.

“¡No me jodas, Westly!” she shouted, loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. “At least I don’t have to drug people to get them to have sex with me. ¡Chinga tu madre!”

“Like anyone would ever want to sleep with you. Don’t you have houses to clean?” he shot back, rolling his eyes. He didn’t stop to converse but continued walking down the hall. “That’s right pinche puta, keep walking!”

When he approached Alexa, she froze. Though she had stood up to him that morning, the harsh fear that came up whenever he approached didn’t seem to go away. Without Lin, she was alone.

The last time she was alone with him, it didn’t end well.

“Oh hey, looks who’s all alone with no daddy to defend them.”

He grabbed her arm forcefully, holding tight despite her attempts to pull away.

He leaned in close, paralyzing her with fear.

“Can I get you anything?” he whispered, recalling what he had said to her that night. “A drink? Maybe something a little more exciting?”

His grip on her arm tightened. She was struggling to manage a response as she continued to attempt to free herself.

“What do you feel like swallowing?” he recited.

There was a sudden jolt as the other girl shoved Eric away from her.

“You wanna fight someone?” she shoved him toward the lockers. He was clearly intimidated though he tried to hide it. Despite him being a few inches taller, the girl overpowered him in overall strength.

“Fight me, bitch!” she continued. “My father is a professional wrestler! I dare you to come at me. ¡Besa mi culo, puto!”

She had him wedged between herself and the lockers. Seeing him clearly shaken up was enough to get Alexa to take a sigh of relief. She moved away from the scene until her back hit the lockers on the other side of the hallway. When there was nowhere else to go, she slid down to the floor, watching the scene unfold.

“Whatever,” he tried to brush it off. “I don’t need to fight you. It would be a waste of my time.” he managed to fight his way out of the small space and fast-walk down the hallway.

“This isn’t over, Pendejo!”

She barely noticed the girl offering to help her up as she sat on the ground, processing what had just happened.

“Cabron,” the girl remarked, watching Eric walk off as she offered Alexa a hand. She took it, slowly pulling herself up.

The girl was Latina (unlike every other student besides Lex it seemed), unmistakably tall and rather muscular, but ever confident with herself.

“Thank you,” she finally said, brushing her skirt off. “He’s um… he’s kind of intimidating.”

“Ay, no, You wouldn’t say that if you saw the way he cried like un bebé when he was being pulled away in a cop car from that party last month.” she chuckled.

Alexa’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Wait, you were there?”

“No, but it was on New York One the next morning.” she chuckled at the memory. “Lo que es un bastardo.”

The shorter teen almost felt kind of stupid for being so afraid of him. The other girl picked up on that.

“Amiga, I’m sure he really fucked you up. He’s a pendejo and you’re allowed to handle that however you do. Just don’t let him steal your light. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A small smile formed on Alexa’s face. “That was really profound.”

She shrugged. “Si, I know, I’m like a fucking latina Shakespeare.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

Lex suddenly realized she may have been coming on too strong and felt the need to explain herself.

“I mean since you’re the only person at this school who hasn’t called me a slut so far and we hate the same person so I figured—”

“Camila.” she cut her off. “Call me Cami.��

“Cami,” Alexa repeated. “Okay.”

“Relax amiga, if you hang around me, everyone will be way too afraid to call you a puta.”

That afternoon, Alexa ventured to the basement where the theatre was located. As she opened the door to the house, she was overwhelmed by the large population of fair skinned students. As she herself was half black, she stuck out like a sore thumb as she had all day that day.

There were several glances in her direction as she entered to room, most of them other girls staring curiously. She sat in the last row, hoping to remain out of sight.

As she sat, she bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” she quickly apologized, glancing up at the stranger.

The cute stranger. The stranger whom she happened to recognize from her AP US History class that morning.

He had short brown hair, a clean-shaven, cute face and wasn’t particularly thin or muscular, a fair mix of both. At least, that’s what she could gather from under white dress shirt and tie.

He seemed to be fixated on her features as well—her light brown eyes, her curly jet black hair, her smile which was in full force.

“It’s okay.” he finally said, a smile forming. “I’m sure you’ve been getting much worse treatment all day.”

“You don’t even know.”

He offered his hand. “I’m Dan.”

“Alexa.”

“Alexa,” he paused, taking in her features once again. “I know I literally just met you, but is there any chance you would want to grab coffee after this? I know a place around the block.”

“Uh…” she paused, glancing around at the other students. “Just us?”

“Well… Yeah.”

She glanced down at her phone briefly, taking note of the time. She had promised Lin that she’d be home by 3, and it was already 2:45.

“Sure.”

Are you home yet, mija?

As Alexa moved above ground after the meeting had ended, she received a very telling text message from her father.

Hanging out with a friend. I’ll be home for dinner.

As soon as the message had sent she turned her phone on do not disturb, wanting to give Dan her full attention.

She did just that as they sat at the cafe around the corner.

“So where are you from?” he asked, once they had ordered.

“I was born in Florida, but I mostly grew up in rural Alabama.”

“Y—” he glanced at her briefly, waiting for the punchline of a joke. “Really?”

She nodded. “Exciting, I know. The south is already bad enough if you’re black let alone adopted, but I moved around a lot ended up in New York over the summer.”

“Oh, like, in foster homes?” he asked. “I’m sorry if that’s weird to ask—”

“I’m not ashamed of my past.” she crossed her legs under the table, her ballet flat grazing his leg. “Just grateful that my current foster parents stepped in when they did.”

“Right, yeah.” he smiled.

A waitress stopped at their table, setting their cups of coffee in front of them.

“My story isn’t nearly as interesting.” he started, taking a sip of his own. Just grew up in Williamsburg. Still in Williamsburg.”

“Oh, Williamsburg! That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to go there. I heard it’s supposed to have like… The best coffee in the world.”

“It definitely beats out this Manhattan crap.” he quipped, receiving a steady laugh in response.

“My mom mostly works mostly across the country as a producer and my dad’s a musician.” Dan continued. “He’s on tour pretty often, so he’s out a lot too. It’s just me and my fourteen-year-old sister Rebecka.”

“On tour, huh? Anyone I’ve heard of?” she added a touch of sugar to her coffee, using a spoon to stir it in.

“I don’t usually like to talk about it…” he started, blushing.

“It can’t be worse than being related to the guy who wrote Hamilton.” she pointed out with a smile.

“It’s uh… it’s George Abrams.”

Alexa nearly dropped the cup that she was carefully holding in both hands. “Your dad is George Abrams? He’s like a 90’s rock legend.”

Dan shrugged, still blushing. “He’s just my dad.”

“Right,” she nodded slowly. “No, that’s cool. I mean I can’t even begin to relate your experience to mine. You were kind of born with a famous parent. I obviously didn’t have the same experience.”

“You get used to it after a while. Although I will admit, some of the stuff that he has collected from his world tours over the years is insane. You should come by and see it one time.”

“That would be awesome.” Her hand instinctively reached for her curls, a move that typically only occurred when she was flirting.

Am I flirting? she asked herself, glancing carefully across the table at Dan. He was all smiles, his eyes fixated on her.

I guess it can’t hurt she concluded, placing her other hand flat on the table in hopes that he would take the bait. He did, reaching his own hand out to graze hers.

A shrill ringing sound emerged from her messenger bag and interrupted them.

“Sorry,” she pulled away, frustrated, digging for her phone.

It was Vanessa calling.

“What?” She demanded, obviously upset.

“I need you to pick up Sebastian from daycare.” Vanessa started, disregarding Alexa’s irate tone of voice.

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“Lex, I’m serious. I need your help here.” her mother insisted. “It would mean a lot if you could do this.”

“I just told you I’m in the middle of something! Have Lin do it.”

“He went to the theatre early. You told me you wanted to start relating to me more—this is a great way to start.”

Alexa rolled her eyes as she hung up, tossing her phone back into her bag.

“Is everything okay?” Dan asked, watching her put her things together.

“Not really… I have to go.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah, my foster dad and I are really close. With my foster mom, however… it’s a work in progress. I need to go pick up their son. I’m really sorry.” She pulled out her wallet, tossing a ten dollar bill on the table.

“It’s okay, I’ll just see you at school tomorrow.” he stood up.

“Yeah, of course.” She hugged him, kissing his cheek as she pulled back. “See you tomorrow!”

The next morning was an uncomfortable one. Alexa awoke nauseated, bloated, and triggered by the smell of breakfast cooking.

As she left her room that morning dressed for school and headed to the kitchen, an all too peppy Lin greeted her, singing at the top of his lungs.

“Goooooood mooooorrrrrniiiing, Gen! Happy second day of schooooooool!”

“Dude,” she groaned, setting her bag down on the table as she sat. “Please.”

“Wouuuuuld you like some breeeeaaakfast?” he offered, directing to the pan he was busy cooking with.

Alexa dry heaved, disgusted at the sight of bacon frying in the pan.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” “It’s the most important meal of the day!” he reminded her, holding up a piece of bacon with the pair of tongs in his hand.

“Seriously, I’m fine. That smells disgusting. My digestive system has been terrible lately.”

“Oh speaking of,” he paused, placing the bacon onto a plate nearby and turning the stove off. “Have you done your treatment since you got out of state care?”

Alexa groaned. “I did it just before I left.”

“That was almost two weeks ago.” he pointed out. “You’re supposed to do it twice a week.”

“I’ve been… busy.” she insisted. “Readjusting to life back at home and starting school… my immunodeficiency hasn’t been a priority.”

“It has to be. No wonder your stomach is so messed up.”

“My stomach is always messed up.” she pointed out.

“You know what I meant.” he paused, placing the bacon onto a plate nearby and turning the stove off.

“If you’re done lecturing me on my health, can I go to school now?”

“I’m not done,” he took a piece of bacon from the plate, taking a bite and offering some to her. She quickly refused. “It’s unrelated but important. Vanessa told me about yesterday—”

“You mean how she insisted that my go pick Sebastian was somehow going to improve our relationship?”

“Not the words I would’ve used, but yes.”

“I was busy. I was having coffee with a new friend and she kind of ruined it.”

“Lex, V is doing her best to relate to you, but it can be tough sometimes. You and I had plenty of time to get to know each other over the summer at the Public. Give her a chance to do the same. She’s a great mother.”

She shook her head. “I don’t do well with mom’s.”

“Did something happen in the past?” he curiously pressed.

“Nothing that I’m willing to discuss over bacon.”

“Vanessa’s nothing like that.” he insisted. “She’s the kindest, most genuine person I’ve met. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Alexa rolled her eyes.

“You gave me a chance and you said you’d be willing to do the same for her.”

“Maybe I’m not there yet.”

“You guys could bond over something you have in common.”

“Yeah, you always know how I talk about wanting to be an engineer.” she rolled her eyes again, the sarcasm thick.

“Hey, you and V both love frozen yogurt… maybe you could go get some together.”

She dry heaved again. “Could we not talk about food right now?”

Before he could respond, she rushed off to the bathroom.

Hunched over the toilet, she vomited once, followed by several dry heaves.

As she stood up, preparing to re-brush her teeth, she saw Lin standing in the doorway in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Never better.” she quipped, reaching for her toothbrush. “I think I’m gonna skip breakfast.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to school today.” he suggested.”

“Lin, she started. “I’ve gone to school in much worse condition. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He walked back down the hallway towards the kitchen. “But if you want to go home, just give me a call! And remember what I said about Vanessa!”

The train ride to school that morning was almost unbearable. Partially because of nausea, but also because certain muscles in her body had become overwhelmingly tender. Her messenger bag sat uncomfortably on her shoulder, heavily irritating her chest. By the time she had reached her destination, her symptoms had not improved. She slowly trudged to her locker only to find Dan waiting there to greet her.

“Hey,” he smiled before getting a closer look at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I thi—” her sentence was cut short by the feeling of bile rising in the back of her throat. She rushed to the bathroom across the hall, locking herself in the handicapped stall before releasing the containments of her stomach—which wasn’t much—into the toilet. She hunched over, feeling the cramps in her torso worsen as her stomach contracted.

When it was over, she was on her knees, her hair carefully hung on the outside of the seat.

She sighed, standing up and moving towards the sink to wash her face.

When Dan saw her exit the bathroom, he offered his only unopened bottle of water. She graciously accepted.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m pretty sure like ninety percent of what just came out of me was stomach acid, but yeah I’m fine.”

“Good.” he pulled a ten dollar bill from his pocket, the same one that Alexa had left on the table the day before. “Hamilton’s glad to hear that.” He handed the bill to her.

“What is this?”

“You dropped it yesterday.” he reminded her.

“Yeah… to pay for my coffee.”

“I took care of it. Here, you can keep it.”

“Dan…” She attempted to hand the bill back. “It’s fine. I can pay for my own coffee.”

“I know, but I took care of it.” He thought back to her rush to the bathroom earlier, eager to change the subject. “You should probably eat something before class. At least it’ll keep the stomach acid down.”

“Come with me?” she asked. Dan nodded and they made their way to the dining hall. Inside was an array of breakfast options that were certainly worthy of a hefty tuition. With it came an overwhelming aroma that made Alexa dry heave as soon as she stepped in the room. She stepped back out to avoid worsening the feeling.

“I think I’m just gonna go to class,” she suggested. “I’ll see you around.”

At noon, the cramps had seceded while the other symptoms worsened. While the other students entered the cafeteria for lunch, Alexa stood outside.

The smell was unbearable. She had no desire to get sick for a third time that day and gave in, headed to the nurse’s office.

She’d listed off her symptoms, the bloating, nausea and vomiting, the fatigue, the cramps, and the muscle tenderness. The nurse, a middle-aged white woman who managed to look consistently bitter, visibly rolled her eyes in response.

“Are you sexually active?” she asked, reaching into her desk.

“No.”

The nurse glanced up at her. “Miss, I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”

“I’m not,” she shot back. Being a virgin wasn’t exactly something she wanted to brag about, but it was true.

The nurse pulled a small cardboard box out of her desk, handing it to the teen.

“Go to the restroom, follow the instructions on the box, and bring it back when you’re done.”

The box clearly read Pregnancy Test across the front, which made it clear to Alexa that the nurse didn’t believe her.

“Whatever.” She scoffed, bringing the test with her.

In the tiny bathroom stall, she removed the test from its packaging and stared back it. It was taunting her with its simplicity.

She removed the cap on the far end, carefully sliding it between her legs and using it as instructed. The results were still pending as she capped the test and walked back to the nurse’s office.

A change on the display alerted them to the results, a plus sign.

“You’re pregnant.” the nurse announced unenthusiastically.

“This is a joke.” Alexa rolled her eyes back. “You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. I told you I’ve never had sex. That test is probably defective. It looks older than you.”

“I can’t say we’ve had a pregnant girl at Columbia Prep before, but I suppose there’s a first for everything. Especially considering your…” she paused. “Situation.”

“What situation?” Alexa demanded, glaring at the nurse. “That I’m black, that I was adopted two months ago, that I live in the heights or that my parents are Latinx and therefore unfit?”

The nurse ignored the question, unwilling to put her job at risk. “If you’re still feeling sick, I can call your parents and have one of them come get you. Just move to the cot over there.”

“Racist.” she muttered under her breath, angrily grabbing her bag as she made her way to the cot on the far end of the room.

“Okay let’s skip ahead to light cue 145, sound cue 11, and stage cue 78.”

At the Richard Rodgers theatre, the cast and crew were changing up some of the show’s lighting cues a few hours before the afternoon matinee at 2 pm. The stage manager was hard at work, directing everyone through the motions so that they could enter the correct cues into their system.

The actors were still, silent onstage waiting for direction while the lighting technicians were quietly discussing the correct cues upstairs. In the midst of a silence, there was a loud ringing noise, someone’s cell phone.

Tommy Kail, working alongside the show’s stage manager, glanced up at the stage for the source of the sound. “Who didn’t turn their phone off?”

All of the actors onstage glanced at one another briefly. Once Lin realized it was his phone, he blushed.

“Oh shit, my bad!” he pulled his phone out. “That was me.”

Hesitating for a moment, he glanced at the call not recognizing the strange number and picked it up. “Hello?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Take five, everyone. Lin has a very important phone call to take.”

Everyone else left their positions.

“Sorry, who am I speaking with?”

The voice of an older white woman greeted him, making it clear that she was unsure of how to properly pronounce his name and wasn’t going to bother to try.

“This is Lin-Manuel Miranda, who is this?”

“I’m the nurse at Columbia Prep. Your daughter Alexa is in the infirmary with me and she needs to be picked up. She’s been vomiting all day and—”

The nurse paused. While it may have been practical to inform him of the pregnancy test, she wasn’t sure it was her place to do so. From the other side of the room, Alexa sat up from her curled fetal position. She waited, holding her breath, to see if the nurse would say anything.

“Well, she’s not feeling well.”

“Is she okay?” he demanded, the concern in his voice catching the attention of those in the theatre. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No sir, not mentally. She’s just physically ill.”

“Oh,” he took a sigh of relief that he wasn’t proud of. The fact that he was so sure she’d had a mental breakdown that involved another student getting hurt was nothing if not slightly unsettling. He was grateful that wasn’t the case. “So she’s with you?”

“Can I talk to him?” Alexa demanded, interrupting their conversation.

“She wants to talk to you.” the nurse announced as Alexa slowly walked back toward the desk.

“Hey, Lin.”

“Hey kiddo, still not feeling well?”

“I must have a 24-hour virus or something. My hormones are off.” she glared at the nurse. “I think I should sleep it off.“

“I’ll come and get you.” he offered, already headed to his dressing room to pick up his things.

“What? No, you’re at work. I’ll just sleep in the nurse’s office until school ends. You shouldn’t leave, it’s too important.”

“Too late, I’m already leaving.” He threw everything he needed into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and heading toward the exit. “Stay put. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a number of questioning looks he received on his way out.

“Lex is sick.” he explained to the stage manager, who seemed suddenly concerned.

“Oh, is she…” he paused, pretending to scratch his arms.

“Oh, no.” he was quick to reassure them that this wasn’t a mental breakdown similar to the one she’d had a little over a week beforehand. “She’s just been throwing up all day. I’m gonna go get her. Put Javi in for the rest of the run through. I should be back for the matinee.”

Lin opted for a cab uptown, arriving promptly and heading to the infirmary to find his daughter curled up on a cot at the far end of the room.

When she heard him come in, a look of concern crossed her face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I was coming.”

Alexa glanced at the nurse, who seemed confused at their exchange. She lowered her voice to a whisper.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t coming because work is more important?”

“We never agreed on that because it isn’t true,” he whispered back. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But…” she seemed desperate for answers. “Work is always more important.”

It was clear that something had triggered her, though Lin wasn’t sure what it was.

“Little girls who stay home from school get punished.” the thought passed through her consciousness as if she’d heard it yesterday, though she hadn’t heard the phrase in years.

Suddenly she backed away from him, up against the wall.

“I’m fine. I’m not sick. I’ll go to class. I’m sorry for making you come all the way over—”

“Hey,” he sat beside her on the cot, trying to interrupt her thoughts for a moment. “You didn’t make me come here. I wanted to come, okay? I’ll take you home and you can sleep it off.”

As expected, her medication helped her calm down a lot faster than she would typically be able to on her own. She paused for a moment.

“I promise, nothing bad will happen to you,” he reassured her. “We’ll go home, you can get some sleep and hopefully you’ll start to feel better.”

“You promise?” she pressed, still hesitant.

“I promise.”

She grabbed his hand for support, following him out of the infirmary and to the cab waiting outside.

“Just hang out here. I’ll make you some tea.” As they got home a few minutes later, Lin helped her over to the couch, putting a blanket over the length of her body before moving away to the kitchen. She had calmed down significantly on the car ride home, taking long calming breaths to ease her anxiety.

“So did the nurse say exactly what was wrong with you?” he questioned from the kitchen.

“Uh,” Alexa paused. While she was certain she wasn’t pregnant, having never had sex, she wasn’t too open to the idea of sharing everything that happened with him. “Nothing useful.” she finally said. “Just offered to call you.”

“You’re right, that isn’t very useful.” He placed the full kettle on the stove, before turning on the burner and returning to the couch to sit beside her. “Maybe we should take you back to the doctor.”

Alexa rolled her eyes. “Hopefully they’re better at their job than that shitty nurse is.”

“Are you hungry? Did you eat at school?”

She shook her head before placing a pillow underneath it to protect her neck. “The smell of everything made me want to vomit.”

“Hold on,” he stood up, headed back to the kitchen. “I think Vanessa bought saltine crackers last week.”

Digging through the pantry, he found a small box of saltines in the back with the package half empty. He grabbed the whole thing, handing it to her.

“That’s all we have, but I’ll go pick up some more—”

Alexa made a noise of protest, turning onto her stomach. “You should go back to work. That’s more important.”

The kettle began to whistle, calling Lin to attention before he could respond.

“Lex, do you want anything in your tea?”

“A spoonful of honey please.”

“Got it.” He prepared it as requested before carefully handing it to her.

She sat up and took a sip, sighing, content.

“This helps a lot.”

“I’m glad.” he kissed her forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick up more saltines?”

“Go back to work. I’ll be fine here.”

“Okay… but call me if you need anything.”

“Phone’s on,” she assured him. “I’m probably just gonna take a nap. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright well… V’s going to some work event later and I’ll be on tonight, so we’ll probably both be back around midnight. Unless you need me to come back—”

“Oh my god, Lin, go back to rehearsal.”

Lin smirked, picking up his bag and heading out of the apartment.

On her own, the silence was deafening. She could feel the fatigue overwhelming her, but sleep was far off. On paper, she had almost every symptom of early pregnancy. She never really had consistent periods, didn’t she need that to get pregnant?

No. No way. She couldn’t be pregnant because she was a virgin. Virgins didn’t get pregnant. Well, except for that one tv show, but that was fake and didn’t count.

The test I took must’ve been defective she assured herself. If I took another test, there’s no way it would come up positive.

That reassurance, however, did not help her get to sleep any faster.

She threw the blanket off.

“Fucking fine.” she groaned and took a large swig of tea from the mug before picking up her messenger bag and heading out.

The nearest pharmacy was five blocks away, a small business on the corner. She headed in, gravitating toward the refrigerated aisle. She grabbed a large can of Arizona tea—only a dollar, respectively—and left in search of her other purchase.

There they were, at eye level between the tampons and the condoms—pregnancy tests. She examined them carefully, reading each label and what special feature they boasted.

She could feel her heart pounding, her palms sweaty.

This is ridiculous she thought to herself. I’m not pregnant.

One box, in particular, caught her eye, a test boasting its ability to show how far along you were. It came in a pack of two, which she grabbed and headed to the register.

Behind the counter, the foreign older gentleman glared at her as she approached with her items.

“You’re too young to buy this.” His thick accent intruded her overwhelming thoughts.

“There’s no age limit on buying pregnancy tests.” she shot back.

“A young body like yours is too valuable to carry a child.” he insisted. “You could do much better with it elsewhere.”

“Do you want my money or not you fucking pervert?” A wad of cash in hand, Alexa glared at the man behind the counter as he placed her items in a small black plastic bag.

“Twenty-four fifty,” he announced, taking the twenty-five dollars she handed him. He passed two quarters back, watching her carefully as she left the store.

Before heading down the street, she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her skirt—her uniform still on from her time at school—opening Spotify. A quick typed search for In the Heights brought up the album of Lin’s first broadway show, a production she’d virtually never heard of. Cautiously, she tapped the first song, placed her headphones over her ears, and took the slow route home, open Arizona can in hand.

The song was still playing as she got home, tossing the now empty can in the trash. She made her way to the bathroom, the box burning a hole into her palm

She tossed the instructions aside for later, sitting on the toilet seat and carefully positioning the test between her legs.

Once it was over, she recapped the test placing it flat on the counter. It was a three-minute wait.

I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I command myself not to be pregnant.

The test flashed a result on its screen, a tiny display that read

Pregnant

Alexa dropped the test, her heart pounding. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of dream.

She grabbed the instructions, skimming them again, desperately seeking answers.

Under her result read a paragraph about conception, how the result had concluded that she conceived three or more weeks prior.

“What the fuck,” she managed, trying not to hyperventilate. She pulled her phone out, stopping the music and pulling up her calendar in the hope that a date would jog her memory of something. Perhaps an artificial insemination that she’d agreed to in an exhausted state—being a surrogate mother was a well-paying gig nowadays.

She scrolled back to two weeks prior. Nothing. Three weeks. Nothing.

“This makes no sense,” she said aloud. “There is no way I could possibly be pregnant. I’ve never had se—.”

There it was, a Thursday four weeks back. There was an event marked on her calendar entitled:

Party tonight at CP!

Memories flashed through her mind of the following day, where she was offered a Plan B pill at the hospital, took it, left to shower, and promptly got sick only minutes later giving it virtually no chance to enter her system.

She could feel the breath leave her lungs all at once, her mind going numb.

She had never considered this.

It wasn’t something one considered after having been through what she had.

She dropped her phone—or rather, it fell out of her hands—landing on the tiled bathroom floor. She put the test into the garbage can, covering it with the other items to keep it out of sight.

Her instincts brought her to the kitchen, where she easily bypassed the child lock on the liquor cabinet. She pulled out an unopened bottle of whiskey, an unopened bottle of vodka, and dug through the freezer for a tequila bottle stashed away.

The three bottles in front of her on the counter, she debated which one would be the easiest to chug. She opted for the vodka, popping the cap and downing the bitter liquid. She hesitated for a moment, the burn in the back of her throat causing her to cough, but continued anyway. It would be unpleasant, sure, but it was the easiest thing she could think of to get rid of the thing that was supposedly growing inside of her. Within minutes, the bottle was empty.

The other two bottles stared back at her, making her feel self-conscious. She left the kitchen, pacing the length of the entire house before returning to the same two bottles. Her hand reached for the empty vodka bottle, holding it for a moment before smashing it against the granite countertop. It shattered, leaving glass everywhere and cutting her palm open.

“Fuck,” she winced, clutching the palm to her chest. The blood quickly spread to her white polo, a fact that she didn’t seem to notice as she reached for the whiskey.

Twisting the cap open, she felt nothing as the bottle reached her lips, swallowing as fast as she could. The whiskey was stronger, more demanding. She could feel her throat screaming for a break, but she pressed on until the bottle was empty. The dangers of her decisions were far from her mind as she dropped the whiskey bottle on the tile floor. It didn’t shatter like she hoped it would.

She could feel the alcohol coursing through her as she paced the house again, her hand leaving a trail of blood as she walked.

Returning to the counter, the last bottle sat, waiting for her. She pulled the cork out, taking a swig.

It came then suddenly, like a truck hitting a brick wall. The effects of her binge drinking arrived hard and fast, knocking her down. She managed to pull the tequila off of the counter with her, the glass shattering on the floor beside her as she lay, numb.

“Do you think she’s allergic to something?”

Lin shook his head. “That can’t be it because she didn’t eat anything this morning.”

Vanessa held her sleeping son close, waiting for Lin to pull out his keys to open their front door. They were greeted by an empty couch, a surprise to both of them. Lin glanced at his watch.

“It’s after midnight. She’s probably asleep.” he concluded.

“I’m gonna put Sebastian to bed,” she whispered, starting toward the hallway. As she passed the kitchen, however, she paused, speechless, staring at the ground.

“What’s up, V?” he moved to her side, curious as to what she was so preoccupied with. His jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of the kitchen floor.

Alexa was there, unconscious, broken glass and spots of blood surrounding her. Her hand was obviously impaled, a large puddle of blood surrounding it.

“Holy shit.”

#hamilcast imagines #hamilcast au #lin x vanessa #foster dad lin au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton imagines #imagines blog

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eallisnwndrlnd · 6 years

Text

Let’s Hope 2018 is Less Stressful

It’s just a few minutes to end 2017 finally!

Ok, so this year wasn’t all bad. I’ll say mostly good if I ignore all the world shit going around especially back home in the States. Let’s not even go there because otherwise this will turn into a whole different blog topic.

This has been a year of many things. Fun, crazy, chaotic, hapless, happy, sad, stressful, productive, and lazy.

Oooh it’s midnight HAPPY NEW YEAR Y’ALL!

Let’s start with the school stuff.

I ended my second year very well with my best GPA so far and still on the Dean’s List. YIPPIE! I was voted to be president for the 2nd year in a row for my International Student’s Org. I helped organize our first ISO day celebration which was pretty successful for our first time doing anything like that. I got to see UB Lipa for the first time which made me jealous because their weather is cold which is awesome! I also got nominated for the Brahman Awards for best organization member under my course’s org Young Communicators Guild.

Then I started my 3rd year in August. It’s been a hectic blur with many long nights with an average of 4 hours sleep throughout this semester. At least two instances I didn’t sleep for 48 hours in order to get my thesis done on time. So yes, thesis. One of the biggest things in my third year. My topic on social media and politics. If you ever end up seeing any of my posts on my FB about politics you’ll understand why I chose that topic. Not only to understand the reasons of other people’s posts but also to look deeper into why I get so invested in politics through social media. It’s been crazy stressful but in the end, all my hard work, unending reading through material after material after material...all worth it in the end. My grade in the chapters 1-3 portion of my thesis is the best grade I’ve received in my grades this semester. My love for learning economics was short lived this semester in my class since I had no time to focus on my minor subjects. I barely studied and I think this semester was the semester of study fail. My brain just couldn’t retain the information at all no matter how long I studied so I figured at that point what was the point. Hopefully that improves next semester. I was just a bit thrown off with the major subjects and the amount of group projects we ended up doing. Thankfully I was able to get out of doing my thesis as a group. I for one would rather deal with the stress of being solo than the stress of being in a group. My anxiety level tends to increase due to lack of control when I’m in groups. I get antsy when I want to turn in the work on time and it doesn’t happen. One thing that has been my transformation from adolescence to adulthood was learning that procrastination is the worse thing I could do to myself. It actually makes me more stressed, less efficient and my work gets rushed which then makes my work usually downgrade. Although my creative juices tend to flow better when there’s a crunch time. First I had broadcasting where I learned how to do a script for a music video and how to film one. So not easy and we were just two people in our group. One my biggest group projects with half of the class was combined with our advertising class to work on a 3 episode series promoting our schools core values, 15 minutes each. My story was picked in our group to be the one we were going to base the series on. I wrote a lot of the script but in English and then my co-writer translated in Tagalog the speaking parts and added some other scenes to it as well. That was our biggest most stressful project. We got to see how difficult creating even such a short film project could be so stressful and chaotic. Still not sure how it all went since most of us haven’t seen the edited and completed result yet. (That’s the one grade, in my broadcasting, where I have an incomplete at the moment as my grade... which sucks because it looks negatively for my student visa) I also had to group in an Advertising project to create a product and create a cinemagraph (didn’t even know that’s what that looping movement in a still photo was called...by the way still don’t know how to really do it since I wasn’t the editor in my group), I wrote a script for a commercial (that ended up to be way to long to be considered a commercial. Oops), had my first crack at story-boarding, and had to direct and organize during it’s production. That was super stressful but I learned a lot of things and I also used a lot of tips I learned from many of my favorite directors. I really ended up finding out how much I enjoy script writing (as long as I’m not rushed and stressed to every end). In our journalism class, I re-learned how to write articles and had to create my own 4 page newspaper. Then grouped again...we had to gather our best articles from one another to create an 8 page one. All I can say from dealing with that is that layouts are a bitch. But most ridiculously one of the most stressful moments from this semester is all due to a cactus. It’s a long story... such a small thing for one of my minor subjects and honestly that incident that I won’t get into, nearly got me to smoke after 3 years of not touching a cancer stick (I didn’t though...I used karaoke therapy instead). No joke. A cactus. Let me be clear...it was like an Indiana Jones moment in search of one...it’s not easy to find a cactus to buy here where I live mind you. It’s not like we have a frakking Lowe’s or Walmart here where I live and no nurseries either. All so we don’t get an INC in our grade for the class...all at the last possible moment when school was already over but still so much for us to do. Another stressful and slightly emotional time for me was in my Filipino class. Mind you, I’m ok in speaking conversationally but my reading level is on the level of a second grader and I think I’m being generous with that assessment. Since there was no foreign version to be in, like the first two Filipino classes I took, I was stuck in the class along with my fellow native Filipino classmates. They were having a difficult time in the class, you can just imagine how I was doing and my professor was having difficulty, it seemed, to understand that I couldn’t be expected to do well or even remotely ok in the class which would murder my GPA. She ended up finally allowing me to get special tests and exams that fit at least somewhere in my range of knowledge teaching me a few things I had no clue about before. Unfortunately it still hurt my grade in that class. Even though, based on the tests and exams, I seemed to have scored ok but due to my lack of participation in the class (since I was completely lost and felt really conscious and out of my dept and couldn’t follow, understand or do the material being taught or assigned most of the time) I didn’t get a great grade like my first two Filipino classes where I was with my fellow foreign students. I honestly cried a couple of times because I was having such a hard time in that class. I mean...there are still areas of my first language where I’m still out of depth... and I’m expected to be at that level in my second language that I only really started developing my three years here? I know some can learn languages so easily and quickly but not everyone can and everyone learns differently and when it comes to languages people learn at a different pace. My pace is slow af. On top of that my memory stinks in my first language. How much more my memory for my second language.

So yeah a lot of productivity with a lot of stress. Sometimes it felt like it was too much all at once and my time management really had to go into overdrive. Honestly I if I were to go back to my last job, my time management would be ridiculously improved. No real accomplishments other than completing my tasks for school and getting so far a pretty good GPA where I’m currently still on the Dean’s List however that may change depending on my INC when the group task is turned in. I think the one thing I was really happy about, despite the stress and lack of sleep was my thesis result. I got good comments from one of my professors which made me feel really good about my work. Totally boosted my confidence level to a 10 and when I saw my grade it boosted it even further. (Honestly the complements I love hearing is on my work and my knowledge. It really pushes me to do better)

Oh, and I got to go to my first foreign student seminar with other foreign student leaders from other colleges and universities in the Philippines. Got to meet a lot of new people and make some new cool friends. Got a chance to get out of my comfort zone once again and push through another moment in my social awkwardness. (You what they say...practice makes perfect) So maybe perhaps one day I won’t feel like wanting to crawl into a corner and read a book and disappear when there’s a crowd of people I don’t know. One of the best things about the event was that it was held in Baguio and it was my first time there. So much of it reminded me of being back home in the Northern Cali part where it’s cold and there’s smell of pine in the air. Currently that is now my favorite place to visit in the Philippines. There are three reasons why I loved it. It was cold, so many activities to do and the food...most importantly the abundance of affordable produce and strawberry shortcake.

And there was our field trip in Ecology to Calagtagan. Expensive, tiring, rushed but the place was beautiful. Just wish we weren’t rushed and didn’t have to deal with the fear of stepping on urchins everywhere to the point it started feeling like a ecological version of the Minesweeper. That part really freaked me out. I kept tripping on my flip flops, twice it broke apart, and countless times I had to chase after one as it floated away. That part not so fun. I also wish I was able to bring my dslr but since I was unfamiliar with the area and what the excursion had in store, I left it in our van because I was afraid it would end up in the water. Good thing I did too because it would have.

Now onto my adventures outside of school.

I got a cat. His name is Gandalf. (Because he’s white and has long whiskers and a grayish triangle patch on his head like a wizard hat, plus he always blocks my path when I’m trying to go to the outhouse) He was 1 month old when I got him from my friend in the beginning of the year. I’m allergic. Do I care? Not really. He stays in our backyard anyhow and pretty much rules over that land. And it actually helped me become less allergic than I used to be. He ends up eating all my money the way it costs to feed him. He’s mean and during the first few months he was such a terror and ran and jumped everywhere, even attaching himself to the screen door and my window and climb to the very top. He’s scratched me a few times already, even on my face once. But I still love the little fucker. He definitely has a lot of my personality. He’s fun to watch when he’s being a nut, freaking adorable when he allows me to be affectionate and makes for a perfect model when I photograph him.

My pop and stepmom visited me for the first time since we moved here three years ago. Because of them I was able to go to a lot of places in the Philippines that I wouldn’t have been able to visit before. They stayed at a decent hotel while they were here and I got to stay over a couple of times to enjoy the warm water and a tub for the first time in 3 years. I also used the pool there very often where I finally got to make actual use of my swimsuits. We stayed a day and night in a resort at Matabungkay Beach in Lian where I got to snorkel for the first time and Talisay where we got to go to Taal and me and pop got to go to the top to see the crater. Such an wonderful experience. I got to go to my first art museum event in the city because of them. (I missed doing that when I was back home. I used to go at least once or twice a year) They took me to my first buffet experience here in the Philippines for my birthday and I loved it. I got to have so much of my favorite foods that I don’t really get to eat while I’ve lived here since I live in the province. I loved having them here. I miss being able to talk about current events where we have a back and forth going on. I missed my pop and loved having him here so much. It was hard to say goodbye after the month they were here.

After that only a few days later, my ma and I went to Hong Kong for our annual exit of the Philippines for vacation. We were only there three days and three nights as usual but we fit in a lot of stuff. A lot of firsts for us on that trip besides the obvious of it being our first trip to HK. Our first time staying in a hotel that was inside a commercial and residence building where each door lead to other business or residences. First time my mom ate at a celebrity chef’s restaurant (it was my second time. My first was Wolf Gang’s in Beverly Hills long long long time ago and I think I got the cheapest thing on the menu at one of his casual restaurants in L.A.). It was the first time I got to go to a Gordon Ramsey restaurant though. It was the first time I had eaten something from a Michelin star rated restaurant (well it’s actually in their street food, casual dining section)...Owl’s and oh my goodness that was the freaking bomb. I still dream of their choux. We go to see a lot of Hong Kong through a one day tour which was also our first time doing something like that. Got to also have my fill of cider since I can’t find any here. It was a lovely country with so many things to see and so many places to eat. Definitely a place to visit for the food alone.

A few months later, one of my closest friends from middle and high school came to visit her family and in turn visit me as well. I got to spend a lot of time with her in the three separate days we got to hang with each other. I missed being my goofy, ridiculous and offensive self. And there’s only a few people I’m ever comfortable letting my stupid fly off the handle. I felt so free and at ease. She’s one of the people who’s accepted me even when I’ve been at my worst. We got to laugh and talk about old times and catch up with each other and on top of that I got to try different restaurants around the city that I don’t ever get a chance to. It’s been years since I’d gone to the movies with a friend. It was nice to go to one with her.

I turned 35! Hit my mid-thirties! Any different than any of the years before that? Not really. Still act like a kid at times. Still act like someone as ancient but not as wise as Yoda. So yeah just halfway to hitting the big 4-0, getting only a tad bit wiser than last year but still the same pain in the butt, opinionated, girly, geeky, mouthy self as always. Pretty sure it’ll be that way until I’m a 100 just with less of my own teeth.

Books.

Yeah...read none unless it had to do with my thesis. Oh and two other books that I read for my English assignment my 2nd semester of second year. One of them was a re-read. I read Like Water for Chocolate back when I was still a kid but I don’t remember enjoying it as much as I did now as an adult. I honestly was in stitches. The other was one on my to read list anyhow. American Psycho. Loved it. I laughed. I was horrified. I nearly barfed during a few detailed murder scenes. So opposite my reaction to the movie which I also loved but somehow despite being far more disturbed by the book than the movie, I loved the book more. I found it interesting that the psycho’s hero was our current US prez. Huh.

Weight.

If you read any of the above the mentioned a lot of food adventures and eating you’ll understand why this portion is irrelevant since I gained back five pounds and am rollypolling in my skinny jeans of size 10. (also didn’t help that was I was stress eating my way through tubs of ice cream during the better portion of half of this past semester) Didn’t help with my skin either. Go figure. (or lack thereof)

Order in the house.

Yeah...that’s not so great either. Since I’ve been bombarded with so many things which left me stressed and ultimately exhausted, I was a major lazy butt the last several months. It also didn’t help that right after we were done with school by body decided it was time to get back my major fibro pains in my back and a flu then down to a cold on Christmas Eve up to four days after. My room looks like a tornado hit it and the house is blech. Makes me feel also blech that my new year is starting out with my house in dusty disarray.

Misc.

I got my bi-annual hair cut. Not as short as before but still pretty short.

Got to experience my first major earthquake here in the Philippines. Or should I say EARTHQUAKES...plural...as in there were a shit load of them. I’m from Cali. We’re considered earthquake central in the States. I barely bat an eye at a 4 and went back to sleep as the 6. something in Northridge happened. I even barely woke up before going back to sleep during it’s aftershock. But none of my nonchalance of earthquake experience had me prepared for the anxiety level earthquakes that I experienced here. Holy frakking hell was that shit was scary. Ok maybe it doesn’t help that none of the buildings here in the province, much less our already crack-ridden house, are built with the earthquake prevention standards back home. It felt like it was the end at one point when, only a few days after our first big one of 5.1, we were hit with a 5.6 followed 2 minutes later with a 6.0. I held on to my mommy like it was scene out of The Day After Tomorrow. I’m not a praying type of person but I was this close to doing so...as much as one can while being an agnostic.

I saw my first praying mantis up close. Almost as tiny as snot but freaking cute.

Got to diminish a bit of my fear of spiders. A bit. Only a bit. Enough to get up close with my 40mm lens and take macro shots of some pretty creepy looking ones. As long as they are a quarter size and don’t jump I’m good I guess.

Got a second cat. Named him Han Solo. He was always going off on his own as a newborn and was the more sickly one out of three kittens in total. Hence the name Solo. I nursed him back to health after his mother, the neighborhood stray cat Boots, abandoned him in front of our house and after I had just buried his sibling in our yard. He’s sweeter than Gandalf but surprisingly the two get along real well.

Was far away from my family and friends when they needed me most. Missed my best friends first baby being born. Wasn’t able to be there to celebrate my other best friends huge promotion to my beloved New York city (wish I lived there too)Wasn’t able to be there when my stepmom was going through cancer which she was diagnosed with only a month or so after their visit here. (Thankfully currently she’s cancer free) My eldest sister and her family suffered a lot of loss during the hurricane Harvey. My other sister was going through a lot of stuff as well. While I was just stuck here worrying about them and not being able to do anything but keep in touch through technology.

That’s pretty much my year in all it’s lengthy glory.

My wish for 2018.

Hoping for a year of more adventures and firsts (in the positive side only please). No earthquakes. Less stress. Less groupings in assignments. Stay on the path of being a Dean’s Lister. Find a perfect or at least suitable OJT. Complete the final portion of my thesis in one piece. Be more productive with ISO. Read a book that is simply just because I want to. (less ambitious than my past read 50 books plan a few resolutions back). Less political turd moments to happen back home. World issues and strife lessen. And any other possibilities I will just have to experience them when they come..good or bad...hopefully more good.

Let’s just see what this year will bring shall we?

#new years resolution

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