Author's note: This is the second and final part of the intermission before part two begins. I was thinking of possibly doing one more of these shorter stories, but I already have ideas for part two coming to me and, to be perfectly honest, I'm too anxious to get started writing it to wait any longer. Actually, now that I think about it, this entire concept of doing side stories just doesn't seem to be working out for me; I can't stay within a word count limit I set for myself to save my life. Speaking of which, if this chapter seems a little out of place in this story, that's probably why; I started this with the intent of making a fun little distraction that would add to the story a little, but it just kept growing. From here on, I think I'm just going to consider them all to be full chapters and I'll have to ask you all to forgive me if some end up being a little shorter or longer than others.
On a note somewhat related to the subject of chapters, a few people have been mentioning that they're wanting to see what happens on the date. I just want to assure anyone that's curious that I won't be dragging this out. The next chapter I upload after this one begins with the start of the date, I promise. I get the feeling it's going to be a little longer than any of the others so far, so it may take me a little extra time. I'm already considering breaking it up into multiple chapters. Either way, I won't let it take too long. Please look forward to seeing the next chapter in the next few days.
I made a small change and, in a sense, took another liberty with the lore. I made some changes to the way I'm writing Tracer's dialogue to make it read a little closer to how I think she actually sounds (or, rather, how I think she would sound in these kinds of conversations). I'm not entirely sure about this decision, but I was looking at her dialogue from part one and the delivery of her lines felt a little stiff. I've got a little more experience this time than I did last chapter, but just as before, please don't hesitate to tell me if I've used a word or phrase incorrectly.
Finally, there's the music. The song that Fareeha plays in the dressing room is a cover of Lana Del Rey's "Summertime Sadness" performed by Daniela Andrade and Gia Margaret. If you've never heard either of their songs before, I highly recommend looking for them on YouTube. The song that plays as Fareeha opens the dressing room door while wearing the dress she's trying on is "At a Glance" by Message to Bears.
"Oxton! Unhand me at once! Put—put me down this instant!" Fareeha was livid, but she was still just calm enough to realize that struggling was no use. Though she could likely escape, she wouldn't get far and there was no way to do even that much without landing on the pavement and making a mess of her dress uniform. It was strange to think that only a minute earlier, she was complaining about being dragged along by the wrist.
She'd realized too late the consequences of asking Lena for advice. From the word "dress," Lena's eyes lit up in a way that made Fareeha quite nervous. Lena had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her mercilessly toward the transports while she used her free hand to pull out her phone and ask it to direct her to local clothing stores. Fareeha quickly gave up on the protests, and that was all the opening Lena needed to start explaining the process of being properly fitted. Fareeha was barely listening; most of her attention was focused on avoiding stepping in mud again today while trying to keep up with Lena. Walking alongside her was less humiliating than being dragged along like a misbehaving child, but Lena's pace was difficult to match even when she wasn't blinking from one place to another. More than that, Lena clearly told her that she would think nothing of dragging her along behind her like a sack of potatoes if she didn't keep up. Something about her tone made Fareeha think it was unwise to assume that she was joking. She made an honest effort to follow what Lena was saying, but when she was excited about something, following her in a conversation was no easier than following her on foot. She would catch several terms she recognized like "stitch" and "strapless," but most of it was all but completely foreign to her. She wasn't one for wearing dresses; it was conversations like this that made the practice seem like it was more trouble than it was worth. Not having any reason to think she would need the information, she never saw fit to look into it. She was already regretting that decision as it may have prevented the situation in which she now found herself.
Fareeha tried jumping back into the entirely one-sided conversation only to realize that Lena wasn't talking to her anymore. She was talking into her phone, and from the other end she could hear someone excitedly agreeing to meet with them. He was almost as difficult to follow as Lena. They were going back and forth about the time, fabric options and something about different cuts. The words flew by so quickly, Fareeha wondered how they were managing to stay on the same page. She caught just enough of the conversation to find out what was about to happen to her: She was about to be turned into a living mannequin. Just as she was submitting to her fate, she heard Lena mention something about being properly measured for a bra fitting. Fareeha's blood ran cold. The thought was utterly humiliating. She couldn't say why at the moment, and quickly decided that she didn't have time to worry about it. Her only way out was to run for it and disappear into the crowd, and noting that Lena's grip on her wrist had relaxed, she took the opportunity. It was a sign of how panicked she was that she never once considered that she had no hope of escaping on foot. Even in her Raptora armor, it would have been a matter of altitude rather than speed. She'd just completed her third step when she saw the flash of blinding blue light in front of her. By the time her vision cleared, she was in the air and being carried, her stomach resting on Lena's shoulder. Despite her tiny frame, she was startlingly strong. All around her, Fareeha could hear laughing. She didn't dare look up and meet any of their gazes. Between being utterly humiliated and not being in a position to fire a rocket at any of them, she felt like a caged animal.
"Fine, I'll go, just let me down!" Out of the corner of her eye, she was certain she saw a camera flash. This was definitely worse than anything that anyone could do to her with nothing more at their disposal than measuring tape. Despite her assurances, however, Lena tightened her grip on Fareeha's legs and didn't release it until she put her down in front of the back door of one of the transports. As she righted herself, Fareeha looked around and confirmed her fears. She had never seen so many people laughing at the same thing before, and certainly not when she was the center of attention. She suddenly understood what made Angela so nervous about giving her speech. Fareeha forced herself to tear her gaze away from them and look at Lena, who was finishing up her call and telling her phone to display some directions. Fareeha clenched her teeth in frustration as Lena looked at her, apparently oblivious to the crowd that was no doubt moving in for a closer look. Unable to resist, she looked around to confirm her suspicions and, for a moment, her eyes locked onto an open gap in the crowd that was slowly closing in on them.
"You won't get two steps this time."
Goddamn it. "Fine...fine. Let's just go before this gets any worse." She grumbled as she got into the back seat and made room for Lena to get in. Noticing that at least ten full seconds had passed and she was still alone inside the transport, Fareeha forcefully pulled Lena into the backseat after looking up to see her waving to the photographers. Lena landed on the bench seat in a heap, leaning against Fareeha and laughing uncontrollably. The door eventually closed behind her—a few seconds too long to have been unintentional, in Fareeha's opinion—and the driver climbed in through his own door a moment later and looked behind him.
"W—where are we...headed, madame?" He was struggling to keep a straight face and hold in his laughter, but he was failing miserably. An icy glare from Fareeha did far more for him than his own restraint, and he immediately cleared his throat and sat up completely straight, his eyes now focused on the road ahead. Lena struggled to regain her own composure long enough to speak as she handed her phone to him, the directions already loaded and displayed.
"Oh, don't worry about her, love. She's just a little sore at me; she won't hurt you."
"You shouldn't be quite so confident in that assessment now that there's nowhere to run." The driver shivered as if he'd been hit by a cold wind, but Lena only laughed harder for it. Fareeha leveled the same glare at her, but it only served to make matters worse. Before she realized it, she was fighting back a smile of her own. For some reason, she found it impossible to maintain any significant measure of anger toward Lena for long. The only one with more influence over her was Angela. Thinking about that gave her smile renewed strength, and she turned her head to look out of a window in a final desperate attempt to hide it. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Well, we've got to get your dress sorted first. That's probably gonna take the longest. It'll be close, but I think we can pull this off. There won't be time for much in the way of alterations, but the manager assured me that he could make some calls could come up with something for you." An unfortunate detail came to mind, and Lena suddenly looked at Fareeha with a serious expression. "They're willing to help, mostly because I told them who it was that was asking. Still, it's a lot of work, see...I can tell you now that it's gonna cost a bomb."
"That will not be an issue." Fareeha pulled out her phone, her expression entirely indifferent.
"Are you sure? I mean, this place is—"
As if she wasn't listening, Fareeha began speaking into her phone, authorizing Lena to make purchases on her behalf without limitation. The approval confirmed, she handed her phone to Lena with her account balance and transfer information still displayed, then made a point of ignoring Lena's look of astonishment. While she wasn't what she considered to be wealthy by any means, money was the least of Fareeha's concerns at the moment. Helix took care of her needs, and she had little in the way of desires. Her entire salary often went directly into her savings untouched. The only time she ever gave her personal finances any serious consideration was when planning trips to see Angela. More than that, now that she was committed to the night ahead of her, she wasn't about to hold anything back. She looked at Lena, who was looking back and forth between the account balance and Fareeha in quiet awe. Sensing that she wasn't going to recover anytime soon and growing uncomfortable with the silence, Fareeha finally decided to speak up.
"The money is of no concern to me. Whatever today's cost, I have surely spent as much before in my lifetime and will no doubt spend as much again. If it will improve the evening in any way, spend it as you see fit. I...I am depending on you." It made her uncomfortable to admit it, but Fareeha truly was in need of assistance. Lena, brought back to her senses, beamed at the declaration.
"Don't worry, I've got it under control! I think I picked a real winner with this shop; they're already calling around and tracking down everything else we're gonna need. Best part is it sounds like they all speak English."
Having only met with foreign dignitaries, corporate representatives and Angela in Switzerland, Fareeha never considered this as a potential concern before. Slightly uneasy, she asked, "will that be a problem?"
"I doubt it. It sounds like the manager there is handling most of the legwork. I only thought to ask about it because I probably couldn't do it myself if it came to it. I only know enough German to impress somebody that doesn't speak German. What about you?"
Fareeha thought back to the countless times that she'd found herself studying German in recent months. On a whim, she'd started studying the basics with the hope of impressing Angela, though her career made the progress slow. Her cheeks began to feel warm. Between feeling embarrassed about not having made much progress and her reason for having ever started, saying anything on the matter suddenly felt like a mistake. "No...none." Suddenly desperate to change the subject before another question could follow, she asked, "what kind of place is this, anyway? You said something about a fitting. We don't have time for that, do we?"
"Not really. I told him we were in a hurry, but the manager insisted on it. I reckon they'll just take your measurements and do what they can with them. He insisted on it, though. That's a bridal salon for you."
Fareeha took on an unusual expression that Lena couldn't place. "B—bridal salon? What are you thinking?"
"It's the closest place I could find that could take us on without an appointment. The closest one I was likely to understand, anyway. I wouldn't worry about it, love. From the way he was talking, I think he's planning on getting your measurements and making some calls around town. I don't really get it, to tell the truth, but as long as it all works out I guess it doesn't really matter." Lena studied Fareeha with curiosity. She had gone from a look of surprise to what looked more like disappointment. Lena smiled as she deduced Fareeha's line of reasoning. It was still strange to think of her this way, but she was absolutely adorable wherever Angela was concerned. "Skipping a few steps, aren't you?" Fareeha, rapidly shifting from embarrassment to annoyance, turned away from her. Lena repressed a sigh. It was hard to resist teasing her, but it wouldn't do to annoy her into becoming uncooperative. She had just started talking somewhat normally, which was something that hadn't happened since she'd gotten into the transport. Thinking about that, she decided to change the subject to something that she had nearly forgotten to ask. "What's the big deal about a bra fitting, anyway?"
Fareeha thought about it for a moment. She'd nearly forgotten about what had sent her into a panic only minutes earlier. She thought back to the last time she'd had her measurements taken for something that didn't have a military application and remembered being fitted for a dress for the first time. She was preparing for what was supposed to be a wonderful evening out, much like tonight. The outcome of that particular evening, however, was the last thing she needed to remember just now. Fareeha found herself cursing how perceptive Lena could be. In a hurry to end the conversation, she uttered the first words that occurred to her.
"It's nothing."
"You forgot that you can't outrun me because of nothing? Seeing as you can't be expecting me to believe that's all there is to it, why don't you just get on with it?"
Shit. "Really, it's nothing of consequence."
"I've got all day, but you, on the other hand..."
Shit, shit, shit. "It's just...I don't have any good memories of it."
Lena suddenly looked concerned. "What happened?"
Fareeha took a deep breath before she continued with some difficulty. "It was a long time ago, before I joined the military. There was a girl..." Her voice trailed off as she found herself suddenly unable to continue.
Lena suddenly seemed excited. "Ha! I knew it! I always wondered what your love life was like! You never let on that you had any experience, so I was starting to worry earlier when you looked so nervous. With the way people drool over you, though, I knew there had to be somebody special at some point! So, who was this girl?"
Fareeha raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'drool?' "
Lena sighed somewhat impatiently. "You really ought to check your fan sites once in a while. Now, what about this girl? What happened?"
Fareeha's features seemed to tighten. "It...didn't work out. She was having a formal affair to celebrate her birthday, and with the way things were going between us, I..." She took a moment to collect herself before she continued. "...I started making preparations. I expected that I would be invited."
"What was the problem?"
"I wasn't the only one with that expectation. It turned out that only mine was unfounded."
Lena cringed. "Ouch. I'm sorry, love. How...how did you find out?"
"She stopped returning my calls." Fareeha's voice sounded oddly mechanical; it almost sounded monotone. She was determined to get through this conversation one way or another, if only to be done with it. This wasn't lost on Lena, who said the first thing that came to mind as a means of turning the conversation for the better.
"Well, at least you have a point of reference, right? Here I was worried that you didn't know anything at all. You had the chance to learn something about dating, at least."
Fareeha's carefully maintained composure began to falter. "Yes. That's the problem, I suppose; I learned that they don't last and aren't to be trusted." Pursuing anything more than what she already had with Angela couldn't be done without risk. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her in any capacity. Just the thought of taking the risk was enough to make something in her chest tighten; without thinking, she took a deep breath just to ensure that she still could.
Lena didn't understand exactly what Fareeha was thinking, but it was obvious that it couldn't be anything good. "Hey...come on, now. Don't worry about it. It's not like it's just you. You didn't hear this from me, but Mercy hasn't been much for dating, either. Not since—"
"Since...?" Fareeha's mood changed immediately, her own unpleasant thoughts temporarily forgotten in favor of satisfying her curiosity. As much as she tried to not think about it to keep from making herself worry needlessly, she couldn't truthfully say that she wasn't curious about Angela's past romantic experiences. Much of what made this whole experience so difficult was the painfully obvious possibility that she had competition out there. Worse still was the fact that if she did have competition, she was up against an enemy without a face.
Lena looked furious with herself she realized that she was trapped. She sighed as she tried to think of how to word her response. "Look, I...I shouldn't have said that much. It's really not my place. I know you've got plenty to deal with as is, but you're gonna have to ask her about it." Fareeha looked crestfallen, which was too much for Lena to take seeing. She thought for a moment and then added, "I'll just say that you're not the only one that's had a run of bad luck there. So stop worrying, yeah? You're both on even ground." Fareeha didn't say anything, still lost in thought. She did smile ever so slightly, however, which was enough to make Lena relax enough to attempt to continue the conversation. "So, have there been any others? Aside from that one cow, I mean."
Fareeha shook her head. "I never saw fit to try again."
Lena stared incredulously. "What? Never?"
Fareeha sighed as she tried to find a way to explain what had become instinct to her after so many years. "You know how combat is: If something almost kills you, you learn from it. You learn how to avoid it. You learn to recognize the warning signs that lead up to it. For me, this was much the same. If I found myself interested, I would start seeing warning signs. After so much time and so many warning signs, I just...stopped trying."
"Until Mercy, you mean." Lena was starting to worry, and decided to attempt to get a smile from Fareeha. Judging by how quickly she turned away, Lena figured that it was a job well done.
Several more minutes passed before the transport finally set down in front of a building that, from a distance, Fareeha had assumed was some kind of a church. It was far too large and ornately decorated to be any kind of store she had imagined. Film crews surrounded the entrance, leaving only a narrow path between the transport's landing area and the front door of the salon. She looked at Lena, already flustered.
"What is this? How do they even know we're here?"
Lena sighed as she tried to think of a way to explain the situation that Fareeha would accept. "Think of it like a business arrangement. They provide you with a service they wouldn't normally give under ridiculous circumstances. Then, they get to go around telling everybody that they did it. Meanwhile, you get to go around talking about how you're such a big, important celebrity that the best bridal salon in Zürich gave you special treatment and excellent service. People hear that this is the best bridal salon in Zürich and start coming here to find out what happened from the source. Then the whole thing starts over. Everybody wins."
Fareeha thought about it for a moment. News reports about Hana Song came to mind, and she found herself imagining flying into battle, her Raptora armor painted pink and covered with corporate logos. The thought made a chill run up her spine. "But I'm not some big, important celebrity! I don't want any special treatment! I just want a dress!"
Lena couldn't help smiling kindly at Fareeha. It wasn't often that you found people that were so down-to-earth that the mere suggestion that they were anything else sent them into a panic. She touched Fareeha's arm in an attempt to calm her. "I figured as much. Still, we can't get around it if we're gonna get you ready to go in time." She checked her watch and grimaced when she saw that it was already a few minutes after four o'clock. "If it helps, keep in mind that it's a fair exchange. Both of you are getting something that you normally wouldn't be able to get your hands on." Fareeha seemed to be calming down a little, so she took advantage of the momentary silence and gave her arm a gentle tug. "Come on...we've got work to do. We don't want to keep Mercy waiting."
After taking a moment to remember the reason she was there, she stepped out of the transport after Lena, her face a mask of determination. Their driver escorted them to the tall glass doors in front of the shop while dismissing questions from the reporters. As they drew near, a smiling and well-tailored man opened the door and held it open for them.
"Miss Amari! Miss Oxton! Welcome, welcome! It's such a pleasure to finally meet you! Please, come in!"
Fareeha thought about Angela's smile, and even Lena's. She compared them to the man in front of her and she was struck by a sudden urge to punch him in the mouth. Lena seemed to pick up on this and rushed in front of her to shake his hand. He introduced himself as Stefano, and made a show of bringing them inside and closing the glass doors behind them with a flourish before anyone outside could follow. He escorted Fareeha and Lena throughout the store, pointing out dresses on mannequins and mentioning the names of designers that Fareeha didn't recognize between short speeches about the history of the business and their accomplishments in the industry. Everything he was doing was clearly for the sake of presentation; he was trying desperately to impress them. Fareeha figured that this must be part of the "business arrangement" that Lena mentioned. Still, it irritated her to no end. Even if she understood the need for it, the fact remained that they were wasting time. Nearly ten minutes had passed and he had just gotten to talking about the reason they were there.
"Now, my dear, what can we do for you today? Did you have anything in mind? A particular designer, perhaps?"
Fareeha glanced at her watch and frowned. Shit. Four fifteen. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so anything you have that fits me will do, really."
Stefano gave a loud, booming laugh that caused Fareeha's teeth to clench together. "Ah, no need to be so modest! Whatever your desire, I am certain we can accommodate you in the time allowed."
Seeing where the conversation was going, Lena decided to step in and get the proceedings underway. "She doesn't know what she wants, you see...she's not really the dress-wearing type, y'know? Doesn't fit in the armor."
Stefano gave another laugh, and Fareeha's teeth ground together. She knew what Lena was trying to do, so she forced herself to remain calm and not undo her work. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Stefano to realize what he was dealing with. "I see, I see! Well, we'll just have to start from the beginning, won't we? Not to worry; I have the utmost confidence in my staff and I am certain that we will be able to get the job done. In fact, I've put my best specialist to the task. Anaïs?"
Fareeha followed his gaze and saw a woman wearing an elaborate dress and a stern expression make her way toward them. She introduced herself simply as Anaïs and said that it would be a pleasure working with them. She seemed to be somewhat tense, but Fareeha already preferred her to Stefano. At least she didn't take long. After entrusting Fareeha to her care, Stefano excused himself, saying that he had some calls to make to ensure that his suppliers would be on standby.
When Fareeha turned face Anaïs and ask what came next, she was startled to see her waving over a group of other employees carrying large boxes, pushing carts covered in clothing and carrying bolts of fabric nearly as tall as they were. Before she could ask, Anaïs was ushering them off to a far corner of the store. All eyes were on Fareeha, and she did her best to not meet any of their gazes. It was one thing to play the role of a celebrity as part of a business arrangement if all she had to do was tell people that she liked a store, but it was another altogether to do anything beyond that. Smiling and waving to the public was as unsettling a thought to her as the thought of pink Raptora armor flying through the sky.
As they walked through a door on the far wall and into a private room, Fareeha looked around to find herself in what looked as though it could only be someone's home. The room was the size of a small apartment. There were leather couches and armchairs against two of the walls, and there were coffee tables in front of them stocked with magazines and what appeared to be tea and fresh pastries. A television screen on one of the walls was playing what appeared to be a recording of a wedding ceremony. The only thing that seemed out of place was the mannequins scattered across the room, all of them wearing expensive-looking dresses. As they reached their destination, Anaïs stopped abruptly and turned to face Fareeha, who was slightly startled. Without as much as a word of warning, she put her hand on Fareeha's back to straighten it, and then two other employees held her arms out at her sides.
What followed was ten minutes of complete chaos. Fareeha jumped when Lena, after giving a quick "sorry 'bout this," started stripping her dress uniform off of her. Anaïs hit the back of her hand and shook a finger at her when she tried to struggle. Fareeha was too stunned to work up any anger. Stripped nearly nude, a flurry of hands and fabric were flying all around her. While one pair of hands took a measurement, another would drape a piece of fabric over her shoulder or hold a dress up to her back. The cloth only stopped flying around her when Anaïs, after throwing up a hand to stop everyone, put her nose to Fareeha's neck and inhaled deeply. Before the obscenities could form in Fareeha's mind, Anaïs called out to one of her assistants who quickly pushed over a cart full of boxes. Three of them dropped what was in their hands and started pulling out bottles of perfume and placing small drops on different parts of Fareeha's body. Anaïs waited a few seconds, then sniffed each of them. She gave another wave and everyone in the room was once again a blur of motion. They were all shouting colors and numbers of centimeters at each other and, in the middle of it all, Anaïs was asking her questions about her favorite styles, designers, colors and fragrances. Fareeha decided later that evening that she had never seen a more frustrated person aside from herself. Every "I don't know" or "I've never heard of him" was met with an incredulous stare. Had Fareeha not been so flustered herself, she might have found it amusing. Finally fed up with the barrage of questions she couldn't hope to answer, her temper got the better of her after a question about something called "princess seams" and she couldn't stop herself from lashing out.
"I don't know! I have no idea what you're talking about! I haven't understood a thing you've said to me beyond 'hello!' " Everyone stopped in their tracks and started slowly backing away from her. Hearing Lena begin to apologize on her behalf brought her to her senses, and she was finding herself surprised to regret having yelled at someone. She took a deep breath before apologizing.
"I...I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated...and nervous. I honestly don't know anything that I could say to any of you that might help you aside from my shoe size. If it doesn't help me stop a bullet or make something explode, I'm not likely to have ever worn it."
The employees considered Fareeha for a moment before cautiously approaching her with fabric and dresses again, but Anaïs waved them away. She was looking at the ground and seemed to be lost in thought; something in Fareeha's words seemed to have caught her attention, and it didn't seem to be the apology. Judging solely by her expression, it was difficult to say whether or not she'd even noticed it. After a long pause, she looked up at Fareeha.
"This event you have tonight is a date, is it not? A romantic evening?"
"Y—yes. It is." Fareeha suddenly felt nervous as she struggled to follow Anaïs's line of thought.
"With someone that you know?"
Fareeha wondered for a moment if she was being teased. She couldn't imagine going through this much trouble for anyone she didn't know. "Yes."
"Someone you know well?"
"Yes." This was quickly becoming exhausting, but at least these were questions she could answer.
"And you are going to a restaurant, yes? Which one?"
Fareeha decided against asking what relevance the question had. "A restaurant in Angela's hotel. It was called...er..."
"Angela?"
"Mercy," Lena added helpfully.
Voices rose as the smiling employees began discussing the implications of this new development, but Anaïs impatiently waved at them again and they immediately fell silent. "Ah...Doctor Ziegler. That could only be Maritsa. Hmm..two stars..."
Despite feeling that it was best to remain silent for the moment, Fareeha was overwhelmed with questions as to how these questions could be at all related to helping her find a dress, how she knew Angela or what she meant about stars. Just as she was about to give in to her curiosity, Anaïs suddenly looked up and started speaking loudly to her assistants in German. They exchanged uneasy glances and, after a harsh glare from Anaïs, they rushed around the room, apparently searching for something. One of them produced a phone and walked to a corner of the room, having what sounded like a heated discussion with someone. Before Fareeha could ask what was happening, Anaïs walked over to one of the carts that had been pushed in the room and pulled it toward Fareeha. "Your shoe size...what is it?"
"Thirty eight."
Anaïs repeated the number to one of her assistants and waved toward the door, and she immediately took off running through it. Before she could leave the room, Anaïs was carefully studying the cart, reading the sides of boxes before pulling one out of the middle. Fareeha was beginning to grow impatient with not understanding what was happening, but before she could ask, Anaïs handed her a the box. "Here, put these on."
Fareeha opened the box and her blood ran cold. Inside was a pair of black high heeled sandals covered in crossing velvet straps. Never once had Fareeha considered that this might be expected of her. "Is there perhaps another pair of shoes that I could try? Something without...without a heel?"
"Come now, we have to hurry. This is no time for humor—" Anaïs stopped and looked at Fareeha, who was staring into the box as if whatever was inside might explode. She took a deep breath and, after regaining her composure, she put her hand on Fareeha's arm and gently pulled her toward one of the armchairs. "Here...sit." She took the sandals out of the box and quickly slid Fareeha's feet into them. Her hands moved faster than Fareeha's eyes could follow as she wrapped the straps around her ankle. Once she was done, she stood and took several steps back. "Now, stand up...slowly."
Fareeha stood and, after wavering slightly for a few seconds, attempted to take her first step. She had no way to explain how it happened, but her ankle gave out beneath her almost immediately when her heel touched the carpet. She lifted her face from the carpet and, after looking down at the shoes and taking a deep breath, let loose a torrent of obscenities in Arabic that lasted the entire time she struggled back to her feet. The rest of the room went silent as everyone looked on in either confusion or fear. Lena, sensing the sudden change in the mood of the room, smiled nervously and waved to them.
"N—not to worry! Everything's fine! She...she does that sometimes." She glared at Fareeha with the hope of getting her attention, but it was no use. By that point, Fareeha had landed on the carpet again and moved on from cursing the shoes to wishing damnation on whoever made them. Without warning, she looked up at Anaïs with a terrifying gaze that made even Lena jump.
"You don't seriously expect me to actually walk in these ridiculous things, do you?"
Anaïs, thoroughly frustrated by this point, completely ignored the question and knelt down to help Fareeha to her feet. "What did you think you would be wearing, combat boots?" It was telling of how seriously Anaïs took her work that she seemed to have taken absolutely no notice of Fareeha's anger. She also seemed to have been personally affronted by the disregard for the salon's merchandise.
"Well, they would certainly be more effective. And comfortable," she added as she noted the pain beginning to increase in her toes and a growing fatigue in her calves. "Are they supposed to hurt?"
"Yes." Anaïs seemed to find the question offensive. Fareeha looked to Lena for confirmation, but she could only offer a sheepish smile as she shrugged. "Well...yeah, kinda."
Fareeha stared at Lena with wide eyes. She was certain that Anaïs wasn't serious, but Lena wasn't likely to hear a well-timed joke without at least smiling at it. "This can't possibly be worth the trouble! Just...just let me wear something else!"
If Anaïs heard her, she didn't do anything to show it. She produced a phone and started talking to someone, saying to bring back a mid heel instead. She put the phone down on a nearby table and turned back to Fareeha, who was standing with her arms out at her sides and trying to remain balanced. Her stern expression softened slightly. "I...think you might be overthinking this a bit."
Lena looked up as if struck by sudden inspiration. "Yeah! You're just learning something new. Think of it like training." The word seemed to strike a chord with Fareeha. She remained silent, but she started to look a little more relaxed.
Anaïs pointed at the ground, and Fareeha's eyes followed. For the first time, she noticed that Anaïs was wearing shoes with an even higher heel than the ones on which she was currently standing. "Watch...like this. Heel, then toe." She started slowly walking back and forth across the room as Fareeha studied her intently. After crossing the room twice, she looked at Fareeha. "Your turn. Slowly, now." After a look of nervousness from Fareeha, she added, "it's just training, remember? Just practice walking. Don't forget: Heel, then toe."
Lena breathed a sigh of relief after the first two steps, and then winced as Fareeha hit the floor again, this time taking a mannequin with her. She rushed to help her up, but she had a confused expression. "You...you have walked before. I'm sure of it. I've seen you at it."
Her face turning a deeper shade of red by the second, Fareeha stood, holding another mannequin for support and ignoring Anaïs's gasp at the wrinkles being created in the mannequin's dress. "This is not training! This is slow torture!"
Anaïs clicked her tongue impatiently. "Then what do you call training?"
Frustration getting the better of her, Fareeha looked across the room and found a clear path between the carts piled with cloth. Without warning, she took off running on her toes and dove, tucking at the last moment and performing a flawless combat roll. She stopped just short of knocking over another mannequin. She couldn't help smiling at herself; it wasn't exactly walking, but she made it from where she started to where she intended to go without falling over. Everyone in the room stopped and watched in open-mouthed bewilderment as she stood and repeated the drill, this time startling one of the employees into dropping the bolt of cloth she was holding. Lena looked toward Anaïs, who was still frozen in a stunned silence as Fareeha was making a third attempt.
"You've gotta admit, it looks like it's working better than the 'heel, then toe' thing."
Despite the commotion it caused, everyone seemed to be grateful for Fareeha's breakthrough. After a few more repeats of the drill, she stood and made another attempt to simply walk. She wavered slightly for the first few steps and leaned on Lena for support several times, but by the time she crossed the room, she seemed to have it largely under control. She still looked a little stiff, but Anaïs seemed certain that she would be fine, although she insisted that the practice continue while they waited for another delivery. After a few minutes, another employee came in with another cart full of shoe boxes. Anaïs started directing them in German, and they began moving most of the clothing and samples to a far corner. Fareeha smiled as she made a show of smoothly walking around them as they worked, never once breaking her stride. The look of pride she had on her face was quickly wiped away when Anaïs put her hands on her shoulders to hold her in place, then raised her arms and started sniffing every part of her body where perfume had been applied. After a minute, she stopped and stood up straight, smiling. "As I thought!" She turned to one of her assistants and sternly said, "Bvlgari Black. Go." Fareeha looked as if she were about to ask, but she was interrupted as three of the employees started rubbing all of the spots where the perfume had been applied with what smelled and looked like coffee beans and damp towels. Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, they were ushering her over to a chair while one of them pulled out what looked like a plastic pistol and another started swabbing her earlobes with antiseptic.
Lena didn't bother resisting the urge to burst into uncontrollable laughter at the sight of Fareeha being swabbed, reminding her of a cornered dog that had finally been forced into the bath. In spite of this, she couldn't help being amazed at how quickly she'd improved. Once she thought about it, though, it wasn't all that surprising. This was just the sort of thing that Fareeha seemed to be made to do. Had this all taken place when she was on a firing range or while she was testing some new armor design, she'd surely have already mastered it and been looking bored by now. Lena was certain that it was really only her being so flustered over being in unfamiliar surroundings that had her out of sorts, and the evening ahead couldn't possibly be helping that. Lena's assumptions seemed to be confirmed when the small plastic machine hissed as it pierced Fareeha's earlobe and she sat still with a completely blank expression, indeed looking bored in comparison to her ordeal with the high heels. She looked up as Fareeha, finally cleaned to Anaïs's satisfaction, started practicing her walking again. She didn't look nearly as stiff as she did even a minute earlier. Lena smiled as she watched Fareeha turn with a flourish and nearly lose her balance, and was just about to laugh and tell her that was what she deserved for getting cocky when she saw Fareeha hold her arms out again to keep her balance. It finally dawned on Lena that something was out of place.
"Hey, what's with your hands?"
"What do you mean?" Fareeha looked at her with a confused expression after having stood up straight.
"I've never seen you with those before. You usually wear the metal ones, don't you?"
Fareeha suddenly looked embarrassed about having to tell this story again. "It was...for the children."
"In that case, you should've worn the others."
Fareeha couldn't contain a soft laugh after remembering having this same conversation with Angela. "You might be right."
"What about tonight, then? Which ones are you wearing?"
Just as Fareeha started to fret over the matter, Anaïs broke through her thoughts. "Oh, you really should wear these," she said brightly. "You wouldn't want to ruin the effect of the dress." She seemed to be thinking about something for a moment, and then turned to a rolling rack filled with dresses. After a few seconds of digging through them, she turned to Fareeha while holding a dress with long sleeves. "What do you think about this one? This suits you well, don't you think? The sleeves will eliminate any...unnecessary concerns."
Fareeha followed her gaze down at her arms again and fidgeted. "Yes, I think that would be best."
Lena suddenly looked alarmed. "Wait, what? No! You're gonna want something that shows off your arms!"
"What? But why? It might be a good idea to cover any seams from my prosthetics. And my...my scars."
Lena's eyes swept over Fareeha's skin. With all of the commotion, she hadn't noticed it before now, but there was a small number of scars across her body. They appeared to be old wounds, largely from stray bullets and plasma burns. Lena cringed as she saw what she believed to have been left by a knife's blade. On a close inspection, a seam could just barely be seen where her upper arms connected to her prosthetics that began with her elbows.
Seeing Lena's sudden look of shock, Fareeha added, "I didn't always wear armor." She glanced down at her arms again, looking dejected.
Her mind racing for a way to finally change Fareeha's mood for the better, Lena recalled the memory that prodded her to speak up. Fareeha, having just completed a mission, was in an infirmary and awaiting medical treatment and repairs. As she was inspecting her Raptora armor's gauntlet, she was turning her arm and causing her bicep to flex. As Angela was turning to her to begin treating her wounds, she stopped in mid-stride and stared for a few seconds, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Lena blushed as she struggled to find a way to make her point without saying what she was thinking. "Just...just trust me on this. She'll want to see your arms."
Fareeha eyed her suspiciously as she tried to make sense of what she was saying. After considering it for a moment, she finally decided that since she had trusted Lena to bring her this far, it was likely best to continue doing so. If nothing else, she was still quite far outside of her own areas of expertise. "Very well...if you're certain. At least something sleeveless would have less material."
"What difference does that make?"
"The simplest solution is often the best."
Anaïs suddenly looked at Fareeha, her eyes wide. Struck by sudden inspiration, she shouted something incomprehensible to one of her assistants and then began running out of the room while shouting behind her. "Wait...wait right there!" Lena watched her disappear through the door and raised an eyebrow. She looked to Fareeha in hopes of finding an explanation for what she'd just seen, but Fareeha only sat there, staring at the doorway and looking unsettled.
"What's wrong, Pharah?"
"I don't have a good feeling about this."
Lena noted Fareeha's serious tone and began to grow nervous. "What are you thinking, love?"
"She looks too happy. I don't like it. She just got done trying to break my ankles; I think it may be a good idea to leave before she returns."
Lena gave an exasperated sigh. "Just sit tight and practice staying right end up." After thinking for a moment, she turned to Fareeha again. "Hey...are you sure about the prosthetics? I mean, you should wear what you want. I'm pretty sure Mercy would agree."
It was at that moment that Fareeha's appreciation of Lena grew. It was a simple thing to say, but it made a significant difference to her to hear it. "Thank you. I'm certain you're right; that does sound like something she would say. This evening isn't really about me, though. It's about her. If there's even a small chance that this could work out somehow, I need to do everything I can to ensure that it does...even if it means I'm a little uncomfortable for one night. Still, I appreciate your concern." Fareeha uncharacteristically fidgeted a little as she stood there looking at the ground. Accepting acts of kindness from people was an unfamiliar feeling to her. People saved her life on a regular basis, but they were family, and she did the same for them just as often. This was different. Lena wasn't one of her subordinates or family; they didn't even know each other particularly well. She was just being nice, with neither obligation nor expectation of personal gain to motivate her. She couldn't say why, but Fareeha found the thought unsettling. "Why are you going through so much trouble, anyway?"
"I just like seeing good things work out. Besides, Mercy's been through a lot. She...she could do with a good woman that'll treat her right."
Fareeha had to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief when Lena didn't seem to find any malicious intent in her question. She regretted having asked as soon as she heard the words leave her mouth. She was merely curious, but she couldn't honestly say that there wasn't a note of suspicion in her mind. When the question came out, it sounded to her like an accusation. Hearing Lena compliment her in response to it filled her with guilt. Now, as she was seriously considering the possibility, it sounded ridiculous. Lena was most decidedly not the type to do anything underhanded. At her core, she was kind-hearted and innocent, always cheerfully hoping for the best against all odds. Plotting against someone simply wasn't in her nature. If nothing else, she just didn't have the patience it took to deceive someone. It wasn't much, but Fareeha felt that the least she could do in return was reassure her.
"I will do my best. You have my word. And again, thank you."
Lena smiled widely. "Aww! Don't even worry about it, Pharah."
Fareeha was suddenly struck by an idea. "Oxto—Lena. You...you don't have to refer to me by my call sign." It didn't seem like much of a gesture to her, but she felt the need to do something to show her appreciation, and putting the two of them on more casual terms seemed like a good first step.
Lena struggled with the pronunciation for a few seconds before giving up on it. "Thanks, but...Pharah's easier." She looked up at Fareeha, whose deep contemplation made for a misleading expression. "S—sorry. It's just, well...my tongue kinda hurts now."
Despite the flood of emotions running through her and her resulting frustration and fatigue, Fareeha couldn't keep the smile from forming on her face. "Don't worry about it, Lena. You'd be surprised how often I hear that."
A few minutes later, Anaïs burst through the door while holding a black garment bag. Just as Fareeha was about to ask what was going on, Anaïs started shooing everyone out of the room. Lena was allowing herself to be pushed out, but she still protested. "Oh, come on! I wanna see it!"
"Want to see what?" Fareeha examined the bag, entirely unsure of what to do with it. "What is this thing?"
Anaïs looked back at her, still smiling as she pulled the door closed behind her. "A simple solution."
Alone in the room, Fareeha found herself grateful for the sudden silence. For the first time since she'd arrived in the park that morning, she felt like she could think a little more clearly. She thought about the day as she opened the bag and realized that there was a black dress inside. She slowly removed it as she recounted the day's events. Thinking about it now, it seemed like it should be a dream come true. In spite of this, it felt as though she were on the verge of some great tragedy. She continued to replay the day in her mind and, when she remembered the conversation she was having with Lena a few minutes earlier, she felt a knot of nervous energy in her stomach starting to tighten. Warning signs. That was what she had said she watched out for. After thinking about the mockery of a relationship she once had day after day for years on end, she felt she had managed to deduce exactly what it was that she should have noticed that would have warned her about what was coming. She could never be entirely certain; there was never any measure of closure to the relationship, so her every last question went unanswered. Still, that didn't explain why she felt so conflicted about Angela. After thinking about it for a moment, it occurred to her that, even looking at it rationally, the complete lack of warning signs was indeed troubling. She was just sitting there and waiting for it all to go wrong. That had to be it. She was just nervous because she was quickly approaching the point at which her last relationship ended, and just like then, she wasn't seeing anything that was warning her of impending doom. There. Problem solved.
Then why don't I feel any better?
There was still something nagging at her that she couldn't quite identify. Something about this entire situation made her feel as though she would turn herself inside out with worry, and it was made worse by the fact that she didn't even understand why. Just as she was about to give up on the thought, her conversation with Lena in the park suddenly came to mind. Lena's words came back to her as though they were haunting her.
I might have all the time in the world, but you should probably get on with it, don't you think?
Fareeha's mood took a sudden turn from depression to fear. How much time do I have to get over this? How long can I wait? If this is my opportunity, how long will it last? If I get this wrong, will I have another chance? She shook her head. She didn't know how to deal with being sad, but she certainly knew how to deal with fear. Those thoughts made her realize that, no matter what else she was feeling, she was definitely afraid. She found this unacceptable, even entirely removed from the matter of trying to move things forward with Angela. She pulled out her phone and started her favorite playlist, beginning with one track in particular. If I'm going to take this seriously, then I should start from the beginning. She set her phone on a nearby table as the familiar sounds started playing. She spent a long time associating this song with a girl she knew once in a completely different life, and twice as long trying to disassociate the two. Thinking about it again in light of her most recent thoughts, though, it seemed more like running away than dealing with it. The music reached her and seemed to be carrying pain along with it. She took a deep breath and forced herself to endure it. I think it's long since time for me to deal with this. Besides, I like this song. That cow doesn't deserve it. Silently thanking Lena for what she assumed was an appropriate term, she took the dress in her hands and started pulling it on over her head.
After a few minutes, she heard Anaïs give an impatient knock on the door. "Is everything alright in there?"
"J—just a minute more!"
The interruption derailed her train of thought, and it quickly became clear that solving this problem was going to take more than just trying to remain indignant, even if that was a good start. Righteous anger is excellent motivation, but it doesn't last. Just as she was beginning to feel doubt creeping into her mind again, she heard the next song in her playlist begin. Her mood shifted in an instant. It was a serene sound, but that alone couldn't calm her. It had a slow pace and didn't have much to it, but it was beautiful in its simplicity. That was something that rarely drew Fareeha's attention. More than that, the few words the song had to offer were just what she needed to hear. It sounded like the sort of thing that Angela would appreciate, and it was that thought that first led her to make the playlist she'd started making for her weeks ago. She'd spent several nights putting off sleep in favor of imagining how she might react to it, just as she did any time she sent Angela a gift. She dreamed of her smile and a blossoming appreciation. Perhaps, if she could make that happen enough times, it would start growing and not stop. It always seemed like a ridiculous hope when she thought about it, but this time it gave her confidence. She was mere hours away from finally taking that first step; only that morning, such a thing had seemed implausible at best. It was difficult for her to argue that, ridiculous or not, the actions she had taken and the decisions she had made were what led her to this point. It's a silly wish from a hopelessly foolish woman...but silly wishes like that have brought me this far. If this is to succeed, I suppose the best plan would be to keep doing what works. She thought about it for a moment and realized that also just like any time she sent Angela a gift, she put off sending it out of what she now knew was fear. She picked up her phone and, after typing a quick message, initiated a file transfer. She put her phone down and did her best to clear her mind, focusing on the serene sound of the music as she repeated her new mantra. Heel, then toe. Heel, then toe. Her hand trembling slightly on the dressing room doorknob as she turned it, she slowly pulled the door open to let everyone back in.
Fifteen minutes later, Fareeha was changed back into her dress uniform and back in the front of the salon with Lena. She was holding a shoebox and the garment bag that Anaïs had given her only after taking the dress back to make what she would only refer to as "last minute alterations." It felt somewhat bigger and heavier than it did the first time, and it was really only a lack of extra time that kept her from asking for more information. Lena was also holding a garment bag, but just as Fareeha was about to ask what was in it, they rounded a corner and she saw everyone in the store standing there, smiling and waiting to send them off. She was so overwhelmed by the gesture that the question was driven from her mind. The entire store had assembled at the front desk, looking quite proud of themselves. Fareeha thought about all that they had accomplished since she walked in and couldn't help smiling back at them. Well, I can't say you don't deserve to be proud, can I? Anaïs looked particularly pleased, but also strangely sad. She looked at Fareeha as if she were watching her child move away from home. Fareeha could only imagine from the expression on Stefano's face that he was mentally preparing himself to speak to the press. Thinking about the press, she looked outside through the front doors and saw film crews that were aiming their cameras at her. Reporters stood ready with microphones and recorders in hand, many of them standing on their toes to get a better view inside the salon. She gave an exasperated sigh, but she still couldn't help feeling relieved to finally be leaving. Compared to the time she spent squeezing herself into dresses and getting carpet burns on her legs from falling, she was almost relieved to only have to wade through the crowd outside to put this experience behind her, assuming she could find the energy. Now that it was all done, she felt drained. As much as she wanted to leave, however, she couldn't bring herself to do it just yet. I can't be quite that rude...not deliberately, at least. She walked to the door and turned to face everyone inside.
"This...this is an important evening for me, and I could not have prepared for it if you hadn't offered your assistance under these unusual circumstances. Thank you all for you help."
Lena jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow. "And...?"
Fareeha scowled, but gave in when she couldn't find the words to argue. "And...and for not..."
"Telling us to clear off." Lena smiled and finished the sentence for her, then pulled Fareeha out of the door by her wrist as she looked at her watch. "Let's go, love. It's five thirty and we aren't done yet."
"Where are we going now?" Fareeha was so nervous about what ordeal could follow the previous one that she forgot to be irritated about being pulled along or having to push her way through the crowd that began closing in on them as soon as the doors opened.
"We need to get you back to your hotel room and cleaned up. Stefano already made the call to set it up. The beauticians will meet us there."
Fareeha raised an eyebrow as they made their way past the driver and climbed into the transport. "Beauticians? As in two?"
"Three, actually."
Fareeha's mind struggled to find three separate jobs in helping someone take a shower. "Why on earth would I need that many?"
"There's more work to be done than time to do it. There's a lot of fine details to consider, and we haven't got time for half of them. The main things are that you've got to get something done with your hair, someone's got to sort out your makeup and an extra pair of hands could get your nails done at the same time."
"My nails?" Fareeha looked down at her hands, almost having forgotten after the emotional departure from the salon that she indeed had fingernails today. No matter how many times she looked down at them, she couldn't get used to seeing anything other than carbon fiber reinforced polymer.
"Well, you're getting a manicure, naturally...hey, now, don't look at me like that! Wearing those mitts was your idea, if you recall."
Fareeha was certainly scowling, but not just because of the manicure. She had already started to become comfortable with the idea that she was done being examined like a laboratory specimen. She pushed the thought aside; it had to get done, and the sooner she started, the sooner it would be over. "Is there anything I should know this time? Should I be reviewing my torture resistance training while we travel?"
Lena rolled her eyes as she leaned back into the soft leather of the bench. "It's just a manicure, love. It's not like it's gonna hur—" Lena cut herself off when she thought about the first time she'd ever had one. They weren't an issue now that she had years of experience with knowing what to expect, but the first time was a bit of a different matter. They weren't what she would call painful, exactly, but it was worth noting that Fareeha's patience had been exhausted more than an hour ago. Also, unlike her own first time, Fareeha clearly wasn't excited about the experience. Worse than anything else, this was only as bad as it got if everything went according to plan. It wasn't hard to see how this could go wrong. Remembering the combat rolls in the salon, she tried to imagine a military-inspired response to someone's errant twitch with a cuticle pusher and found herself repressing a shudder. She glanced down and considered the prosthetics for a moment. She knew that they were intended to replicate not only a natural appearance, but also natural sensations, for better or worse. Not seeing an easy way out of this, she looked at Fareeha apprehensively. "Hey, you can turn off the pain signals in those things, right?"
Remembering her earlier determination and already feeling ridiculous for even having asked, Fareeha was about to scoff at the thought, saying that it couldn't be worse than the high heels. It was remembering a time years earlier when she had once said something similar about high heels long before ever trying to wear them that brought her up short. Suddenly feeling uneasy, she pulled out her phone. Lena, who was already feeling nervous, tried to look at the phone's screen. "What...what are you doing?"
"Downloading the prosthetics' user's manual."
A few minutes later, they found themselves in the hotel lobby and being waved to by a man and two women she didn't recognize. They were all dressed alike, wearing black tunics and matching pants. Assuming that these must be the beauticians, she sighed and prepared herself for another round of prodding and, going with the odds, pain.
"Miss Amari! Miss Oxton! Hello...it's nice to finally meet you. My name is Nadine, and this is Quentin and Pauline. We'll be taking care of you this afternoon." Fareeha held her hand out as they approached, but Nadine walked right past her and started circling her. Fareeha looked to Lena for an explanation for what was happening, but Lena merely shrugged. After two full passes, Nadine finally stopped. "Well, we do have a quality canvas this time, don't we? Well, let's get going; time is short and there's much work to do." Without another word, she signaled to Quentin and Pauline who, after tearing their eyes away from Fareeha and Lena while smiling and giving excited waves, followed after her. It seemed that they already knew where they were going. Fareeha turned to Lena and opened her mouth, but thought better of it when she saw Lena looking after them and appearing to be as confused as she was. At least this looks like it will go faster than the salon.
Nearly an hour later, she had showered and changed into the clothes inside of the garment bag Anaïs had given her. Inside was more than just the dress; there was also a small black box containing a bottle of what she assumed was the perfume Anaïs had chosen. The box had a small white card attached to it with some simple instructions written about exactly where to spray it. There was also two small jewelry boxes containing a pair of earrings and an intricately woven bracelet. There was also a lacy black strapless bra and a matching pair of panties that were all but completely backless. Fareeha turned a deep crimson and was already thinking of excuses to leave them behind when she noticed what looked like another small card tucked inside of the bra. On one side was a note that could only have been written by Anaïs. Everything is important. Wear it all. Fareeha thought about it for a moment and, considering all of the careful measurements and testing she had endured, she was forced to admit to herself that if Anaïs said that it was important, it must be. Reminding herself that she had already made the decision to sacrifice personal comfort for a successful outcome, she sighed and did her best to get dressed without looking at herself.
As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, the beauticians descended on her, straightening her dress before wrapping a plastic cloak around her shoulders and pulling her toward the armchair in the corner. For what felt to Fareeha like the hundredth time that day, she heard terms being thrown around that she only barely understood. The words were familiar, but their intended use in the context of choosing makeup was often lost on her. She recognized "foundation" and "eyeshadow" and she even felt comfortable assuming that, when they asked whether she had dry or oily skin, answering with "somewhere in the middle, I suppose" was a sufficient answer. When asked questions about her undertone, however, she was at a complete loss. She found herself curious for a moment when Nadine turned over her wrist as part of her investigation, but when she was told that Nadine was looking at her veins for the answer, Fareeha decided that she'd rather not know. She simply stated that her hands were prosthetics in the event that it was pertinent information. It seemed that it was; Nadine dropped her hand, ran over to an open briefcase and pulled out what appeared to be color swatches. She then came back to Fareeha's side and started holding each of them to her face. Fareeha did her best to keep calm. It's for tonight. It's for Angela. I'm almost there.
Just as she was starting to relax, she heard Nadine say something about her eyebrows. Getting the feeling she should probably find out what was going on, she looked up at Nadine. "My eyebrows? What about them?" Fareeha suddenly looked confused as she followed Nadine's gaze toward Quentin, who had started heating up what looked like honey. "What...what is that?"
Lena followed Fareeha's gaze, then sighed as she realized that she'd forgotten to mention one of the least pleasant details of the beauticians' intentions. "It's...well, it's wax."
Fareeha looked confused for a moment as she wondered what they were about to polish, but it didn't take long for her to understand what they were planning. She looked at the wax again and a dark expression came over her features. The beauticians looked at each other with nervous expressions for a moment before Quentin finally cleared his throat and spoke to Lena, not daring to look in Fareeha's direction as he did so.
"A—are we going to have to hold her down for this?"
After a raised eyebrow and a sideways glance from Fareeha, Lena decided to quickly separate herself from the proceedings. While she normally knew better than to take Fareeha too seriously, it had been a long day and she looked like a dangerous combination of irritation and fatigue. "You're welcome to try, but I'll be sitting that one out, thanks. She's already brassed off and looking for a good excuse." She thought for a moment and then, smiling shrewdly as she remembered a moment in the salon, she raised her voice and added, "just remember that it's for Mercy, yeah?"
All of the beauticians turned their heads toward Fareeha, their nervousness instantly replaced with curiosity. After seeing the placid expression that had suddenly taken over Fareeha's face, it was easy enough to guess at the implications of Lena's comment. Fareeha was startled out of her sudden reverie by an excited squeal, and she looked up at three eager faces that began firing questions at her all at once. Lena struggled to not undo her own work by laughing out loud and drawing any attention to herself. Fareeha's face had begun to turn a deep scarlet, and she looked thoroughly flustered as she tried and failed to deflect the beauticians' questions. She didn't even seem to even notice when Pauline gently pushed her back in her seat and tilted her head upward, only stopping her questions long enough to tell her to hold very still. Lena started to feel a little guilty about what she'd done, but it was still better than what the alternative was shaping up to become. Another quick thought of the combat rolls in the salon was all it took to convince her that this was for the best.
It took nearly all of the time they had available to them, but at around ten minutes after seven, Nadine proudly announced that their work was done. Lena, who was watching the clock nervously and pacing the entire time, didn't waste any time getting Fareeha moving. "Great! You're all set...oh! Hold on a tic—you already know about formal dining, right? Which one is the dinner fork and all that." Lena immediately regretted asking, but when she saw the look of horror on Fareeha's face, she knew the damage was done. She didn't understand what Fareeha was saying to herself as she sat there, staring blankly at nothing in particular and mumbling absentmindedly in Arabic. Something about her expression told Lena that she was probably better off for that. "N—never mind...don't worry about it. It's not important. Let's just get you up and get your shoes on. It's almost time to leave, so you'd best start walking now if we're gonna get you there on time. Don't worry, we'll clean up here." Fareeha slowly stood, but her expression had yet to change. She stepped into her new shoes with a blank expression. As the beauticians started conversing amongst themselves in German with looks of concern, Lena did her best to dismiss their fears; it wouldn't help matters at all to bring Fareeha back to reality just to have her look around and see someone look like they were confirming whatever she was thinking. "Oh, not to worry! Just a case of the collywobbles. She'll be fine." She turned to Fareeha and repeated, "you'll be fine. It's Mercy, remember? She's not gonna care about which fork you use. I shouldn't have even asked." Lena breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that giving her Angela to occupy her mind was finally bringing her around. She undid the knot at the back of the plastic cloak and started pulling it off of her, suddenly excited to see the end result of the effort. "Come on, then! Let's have a look at you!"
There was a sudden silence in the room. Fareeha looked around and saw four pairs of eyes locked onto her. Pauline was smiling at her as if she were in a trance. Nadine looked as if she were about to cry. Quentin was looking quite proud of himself, and Lena merely stared blankly with her mouth open. All four of them seemed to be dumbstruck. Fareeha struggled to read the mood of the room.
"What? What is it? Is something wrong?"
Lena only smiled and shook her head, then took her by the wrist and started leading her toward the hotel room door. She reached into a wardrobe and pulled out the black garment bag that she'd been given in the salon. Just as Fareeha was remembering to ask what was inside, Lena unzipped it and pulled out a black wool topcoat and handed it to her. She was still smiling and silent.
Fareeha looked at everyone in the room from the door. Having suddenly arrived at the moment she'd hoping to see for longer than she could clearly remember, she couldn't help feeling a sudden appreciation for everyone there that had done so much to help her. She struggled for a moment, opening her mouth and then closing it again as she searched for the right words. She only stopped when Lena gave her a gentle push out of the door.
"Go on, get going before you're late. Don't worry, you can say it later when you have time."
Fareeha made one more attempt and, failing once again, she decided that Lena was right. She had less than twenty minutes to get to Angela's hotel room, and she would only make it on time if she left immediately. With another flustered glance back at everyone in the room, she finally gave up on it in favor of being on time. Even "heel, then toe" was pushed out of her mind as she put all of her focus into keeping herself moving forward.
