Okay so sorry if this isn't one of my best, there's a fare bit of foreshadowing, and we meet new character! Credits go to, of course, the amazing Cassandra Clare, and also to the one and only Charles Dickens (:
The airport was loud and confusing, a harsh reintroduction to the lives of those with money. There were families struggling to find brightly printed suitcases and tall men and women in suits and shiny shoes who strutted around with their briefcases and snarls, small children who burst into tears, and security guards who stood silently watching the commotion. No one in the departure wing seemed to be alone—even the snarky suits had an assistant or family member standing by, fussing, crying, double checking.
But Tessa was alone. She stood with the backpack Ms. Jameson had given her, which held a change of clothes, a hairbrush and a toothbrush she had also been given, along with the letters from Nate and a couple of buttons. Saying goodbye to the streets had been harder than she had expected.
It had been a relief to sleep in a real bed, when Ms. Jameson had offered her to stay the night. It had been nice to have a shower, when Ms. Jameson had suggested she clean up. And it had been nice to eat a real meal, when Ms. Jameson had suggested she stay for supper. The next morning, she had cleared out early and found her usual corner, had set up her buttons and her fabric, and made a few more cases to sell, in case she needed money in London.
London. Just the name sent a thrill down her spine. Join Nate, in London, where he'd finally sorted himself out… It seemed to good to be true. But then, Nate had purchased the air ticket somehow, and flights across the sea weren't cheap.
The night of September 17th, Ms. Jameson had retrieved her again. She had been showered, scrubbed until she sparkled, dressed in new clothes with her teeth brushed and her hair brushed and braided, and she had been given a backpack and a toothbrush and a change of clothes. She had tried to refuse the older woman, but she would take none of it. It she was taking a leap across the pond, she was going to be prepared. She only wished she had more money—Tess Tokens didn't get you very far in the real world.
When she had walked out of the apartment and across the road to the bus stop to the airport, Aly had wolf-whistled. With a fake English accent, she cried, "To London." She smiled, remembering how s/he had cheered. She did have a sending off party of a sort, in the only way her almost-friends could. It was only as she passed through Customs and climber aboard the plane that she realised her allies were really her friends, and that she was going to miss every crazy one of them. She only hoped Nate would be worth it.
A suit came to sit next to her, a man with bright grey eyes, slick dark hair, and a congenial face that made him instantly likeable. When he smiled, she felt as though it could cut glass, and fought to keep her face impassive. "Axel Mortmain," he introduced himself, extending his hand.
Tessa shrank back, her self-protective instincts taking over. This was not a man she could beat even as Gray. He could have her corner quietly.
His brows drew together in confusion. "I am sorry." Tessa noticed his English accent. "I just thought that if we have to sit beside each other on a plane for seven hours, we might as well introduce ourselves." Tessa looked out the window, but the heard the man huff.
She had nothing to do on the long plane ride, though she itched for a good book. Something classic, like Dickens… oh, what she wouldn't do for her battered copy of A Tale of Two Cities! She was too jittery to sleep, and once they were in the air, there was only so much ocean and cloud she could concentrate on. An hour into the flight, she found that no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts strayed to Nate. Had he really changed? Would she end up being Gray again, just completely alone in a foreign country? At least she spoke the language… What if Nate didn't love her anymore? She knew she wasn't the tough, intelligent and cheerful girl she had been when the last lived together. Starved as she looked, would he even recognise her?
Desperate for an escape from the disturbing track her thoughts had taken, she turned to see what the suit beside her was reading. Her eyes caught the name "Estella," amongst the small font, and she clung to the quote like she was the moth and it the candle.
"Can I help you?" the man asked.
Tessa jumped. What he asked was so exactly close to what she had been reading, been wondering, that she couldn't help wonder. "You're reading Great Expectations, Sir."
He smiled, folding the book over to mildly gaze at the cover. "Really?" he asked with just a trace of sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed."
She scowled at him as he returned to the text. "Dickens is one of my favorites," she continued, feeling as though she had to explain herself.
"Is he?" the man asked. His tone was both patronizing and curious, like that of a teacher who knew you hadn't bothered with your homework but was interested in hearing the wild story you had cooked up to explain it. He bothered her.
"Yes," she replied firmly. "Though I preferred A Tale of Two Cities. One couldn't ask for a more tragic cast of characters."
"I don't know. Anna Karenina could give it a run for it's money."
"Well, I suppose the ending…" she trailed off. "What always struck me about a Tale of Two Cities though, was Sydney Carton. Dickens had the most beautiful ways of describing how absolutely hopeless he was, and how worthless he thought himself to be, despite being one of the better people in the whole novel, and well worthy of at least some credit."
"A Carton fan? I should have known."
"You need only look at the character development to know that Dickens wrote a star. The dignity with which he proposed to Lucy Manette, and turned himself down before she had the chance to, the way he worked all night for Stryver and allowed him to take all the glory. He had no ambitions and no dreams, yet he fell in love."
"Aah, love. I thought we might end up back at this, Miss…?" Tessa shook her head in response. The suit seemed disappointed. "Well, love is every young girl's dream. It is no wonder Carton struck your heart, when it was he whose love went unrequited."
"All the best novels had love, Mr. Mortmain. It's what makes us feel. If they were all anger, all vague happiness, all of the deepest depression, we would sympathise, but it wouldn't hold our interest. Tell me truly, do you think half the authors in the world would be authors at all, if they didn't write about love?"
"Maybe that would be a good thing. We don't need anymore shades of Gray, thank you very much. And to think that kind of smut would make the best seller list."
Tessa snorted.
"What?" he asked, looking truly confused.
"Well, you're a grown man, with a job and briefcase and a suit, and a reason to travel to London by yourself reading Charles Dickens, and yet you've also read Fifty Shades of Gray and talked casually about 'smut' with a total stranger."
"Your point?"
"It's just surprising, that's all. Most adults wouldn't understand it if I said smut, let alone be able to use it."
Mortmain smiled. "I'm going to take that as a compliment. But then, you don't exactly look like one who's close to our Mr. Dickens here, so I suppose we're even."
She smiled. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment too."
"Tell me," Mortmain turned to her, finally closing his book. "You're very likely to never ever see me again. So how did you end up here, on a flight from New York to London looking half asleep and half ready to punch the next thing that moves, calmly discussing the great literary works with a complete stranger?"
"This particular stranger introduced himself to me, the view grew monotonous, and I forgot my own reading material, so was forced to peak at his."
"Will I ever get a name?"
"Gray. Umm… Theresa, err, Tessa Gray."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Gray."
"Likewise."
"How old are you, Tessa?"
She flushed. "Sixteen."
"Did anyone drop you off at the airport?"
"Yes," she lied. He raised an eyebrow. "No."
"When did you last eat?"
"I had breakfast this morning," she replied promptly.
"And before that?"
She struggled to think back to her last meal before that. It didn't seem it would be a problem if she told this man the truth, as he said, she would probably never see him again. "Dinner, two days ago."
Mortmain frowned, and waved one hand elegantly above his head. A flight attendant materialised, simpering. "I need a meal for the lady, everything you have to offer. And two glasses of water. Oh, and black coffee." She attendant simpered and slid off, presumably to fetch his order. "I'm guessing you're hungry, Miss. Gray?"
She nodded shyly. Had this stranger just ordered her a meal?
"I ask only one thing in return for this food." He had! "Tell me what happened to put you on this plane, with these sad eyes and sunken cheeks, and small, stiff backpack." The food arrived then, the fastest Tessa had ever been served. It's tantalizingly tempting aroma wafted through the air. Mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, iced tea… the smell of salt and butter assaulted her nose and almost involuntarily she leaned forward. It had been so long…
She reached for a small plastic fork, shoveled some potatoes into her mouth, and began to tell him about Nate, about smoky bars and the rise of Gray, about Harriot and chocolates and debts, letters, street corners and pleas. He listened quietly throughout, sipping his coffee. When she finished, she burst into tears, and he handed her a neatly pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket. She dabbed at her eyes, and made to hand it back to him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand. "Keep it. You might need it."
Her cheeks stained with red, she returned to staring out the window. As tired as she was, she found herself falling asleep, the talking and crying having worn her out. And as the Atlantic passed beneath her, she slept more deeply than she had since her Aunt fell ill, watched over by a stranger who knew more about her than the brother she was to meet anew, more than her parents could ever know, more than she herself would find out for a long time.
He hailed a flight attendant and called for a blanket.
So I guess I'll end it there for tonight. R&R!
