Where Nobody Knows Your Name.
By Closet Scribbler.
Vienna.
The welcome glow of warmth from the small street cafe lures her inside away from the bitterness of the cold that has seeped into her bones as she had wandered aimlessly through the city. She catches a glimpse of her watch, as she settles at a small table, and is surprised by how much of the day had passed already although, when she thinks about it, she shouldn't really be surprised at all. She had lost herself in the city, quite literally, and then immersed herself in all it had to offer; the architecture, the culture and the history which ties it all together. She feels she was right to come here. The beauty and the majesty of the city gives her a new purpose, a new city to learn; a new pretend life to lead.
She orders coffee in an impressive Austrian accent and feels a flicker of unease at how easy it has become for her to blend in. There have been times, long days and dark, restless nights when she has felt she would never, could never, be anyone other than Ruth, but, slowly, and not without some difficulty, she has managed to leave Ruth behind. She has shed most, if not all, of the things that made her so uniquely Ruth and the things that refuse to leave her have been locked away and pushed inside the furthest recesses of her mind and heart. Nowadays she is anyone she wants to be, for however long it suits her. In Vienna she is Sofia.
She gives a small, perfunctory smile as the waitress brings her coffee and then waits until she is alone again before reaching for her battered looking handbag. Years ago she would have thrilled in slipping a guide book out of her bag and would have spent her time in the nameless, yet charming, cafe pouring over the pages of it. Not anymore. These days she allows herself the freedom to roam the streets, to really drink in the sights and smells and sounds of the real city. This part of her nomadic lifestyle is a small salute to a man she once knew who told her that the only way to really get to know a place was to become lost in it. A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips at the memory before she pushes it away and instead of lingering on the past she pulls out an equally battered looking leather bound notebook from her handbag. Her fingers lazily flick through the already full pages until she reaches a fresh, empty one. She pauses a moment and then takes her pen and scribbles out her first thoughts of Vienna.
---
It is much later in the day when she finally returns to the apartment she has arranged to rent. Yesterday she signed a tenancy agreement and paid the agreeable landlord three months rent in advance. She doubts she will be staying that long in one place; lingering longer than 6 weeks in one location is a rarity these days. Ruth would have hated the uncertainty of the life she now leads, she would have longed for stability and would have eventually driven herself mad pining for the life she once had. That's why she's Sofia now, and why she was Marie before that and Adele before that.
It's safer this way, she thinks.
Not that she's in danger. She isn't constantly on the move because some malevolent force is pursuing her, it is her own restlessness that forces her on; nothing more. She no longer has anything or anyone to anchor her existence to and as soon as she begins to imagine how Harry might like a certain building or she starts searching faces in the crowd for the face that she knows can never be there she packs up and moves on. She's long since accepted that this is the life she chose, the sacrifice she made, but that doesn't stop her from loving him. She doubts that anything ever will. She is careful not to let anyone get close to her as she travels through Europe. Very few people know that she still exists and she knows that as long as there is breath in his body he will make sure it remains that way. The only way her past will catch up with her now is if the only person she has ever truly trusted is no longer alive. She shudders at the thought. It doesn't bear thinking about and yet it is a thought that has consumed her thoughts more than once.
In a moment of weakness she allows herself to picture his face and the rush of emotions that race to the surface are so powerful that she feels herself sway. Her fingers reach out and grip the back of the chair and her knuckles turn white as she gives into the forbidden urges and replays some of her most treasured memories. She allows herself a minute, not a second longer, and then locks away the thoughts and feelings she now so carefully avoids. She shakes off the melancholy that follows the memories of a life, and a man, she aches for and crosses over to brew herself a fresh pot of coffee. This is her life now and she will live it without him if it means keeping him safe.
---
She has been in Vienna for almost three weeks when her life as she knows it now is turned on its head. The first glimpse of the familiar face is swallowed by people pushing by her, obscuring her view, and she can almost convince herself that she is seeing things but the rapid thump of her heart and the ice cold trickle of fear in her veins tells her that she knows better than to not trust her instincts. She is out shopping, relishing the human contact as she buys fruit and vegetables from the stall owners who are braving the cold to earn their keep, but suddenly wishes she was somewhere less exposed and vulnerable. She swallows hard and pushes away from the stall, searching left and right until her eyes lock on the striking features of a ghost from her past. The young blonde woman looks more world weary than the fresh faced young woman Ruth left behind but she reasons theirs is a profession that comes with a unique set of challenges and millstones to carry round.
"Ruth," there's so much wrapped up in that one word and she can hear it all; the apology, the wonder, the excitement, but mostly, she can hear the fear. The sound of it feeds her own increasing terror and she searches the face in front of her for a hint of reassurance.
"What's happened to him?" she whispers, brusquely, and suddenly her hand is gripping the arm of the younger woman so tightly that she can feel the blood pulsing in her hand.
"We don't know."
This is my first fic so any feedback would be great. The gentler the better! I have an idea of exactly where I want this to go but need to see if people like it or not first :)
Thanks for reading