Chapter Four: Doubt
Mimosa walked at the heels of the bellboy in front of her as he escorted her to the room she was staying in. "Here we are, Miss. Granger," the man proclaimed as he opened a door. She smiled and thanked him as she entered, slipping a couple of dollars into his hand. He nodded politely, and closed the door.
She looked around. It was a fairly nice suite, nothing too fancy. There was a small kitchen, and one king-sized bed. Mimosa made her way to the closet with her one shoulder-bag. She unzipped it, and began to hang up her clothes absentmindedly. Why didn't Gordon want to meet me? she thought as she folded a pair of jeans over a coat hanger. He's been acting so bizarre lately . . .
Her thoughts floated to her father as she finished with the clothing. Mimosa sighed inwardly and briefly looked out the window. She'd always known she was illegitimate. Well, maybe not in so many words, but one notices that the other children have Daddies. She'd asked her mom about him, and she'd always been vague. She knew her mother through and through - her mother had felt used by Mimosa's father. Sometimes she had gotten angry about it, other times she had still felt in love with him . . .
I wish she were still here, Mimosa thought with a shudder. Her mother and her had shared a bond no one else had, and it had been incredibly hard to lose. Evidently, her father had preferred to be around his "own kind" - Mimosa's mother had been empathic, and she'd passed that on to her daughter. Now Mimosa was not only burdened by her own emotions, but those of the people around her as well.
Mimosa picked up the books she'd brought with her and sat them on the table. She'd never really wanted to find her father until after her mother died. Now she really wanted to know the man who'd given her telekinesis. Was he ever surprised to hear his daughter had come to visit, only to find a complete stranger sitting at the table. But now she felt that they were close . . . sort of. She understood he was terribly angry at Tessa, even though he rarely expressed it in front of her. Oh, well . . . not my problem. As far as Mimosa was concerned, the whole Tracy family could take a flying leap.
-
When Tessa finally got to look at herself in the mirror, six and a half hours after receiving the signal, she had to suppress a scream. Her hair was everywhere, her nails were broken, and her lip gloss was a smear across her face. She frantically grabbed a Kleenex to wipe it off.
That had been one nasty fire. Half of the street had been destroyed though, thankfully, only a few people sustained injury. It had taken 3 hours to get the fire under control, and about another one to put it out completely. That wasn't including the several breaks they had to take for her fiancé and several others to make heroic efforts to get people out.
She sighed, tossing the tissue into the wastebasket, and picking up her brush. Virgil was so sweet . . . he'd even thought to kiss her before he went in, in case . . .
She dropped the brush. No, she wouldn't think about that. He was brave, he was a hero, he was alive. She needed to focus on what had really happened, not what might have. Still, she thought, picking up the brush again, how hard will it be for me to let him do that once-
She stopped herself momentarily. She'd never thought about that before. Would Virgil want children? Did she want children? She picked up the brush again, deep in thought. She'd never pictured herself as a mother before - certainly not this early in her twenties.
She looked out her window, lost in thought, and noticed the darkness outside. She spun around to look at the digital clock. No way! It can't be that late!
She'd just have to pick this up in the morning. Right now, she had to sleep.
-
"OUCH! I don't see the need for a pin there!"
Tess looked towards the curtains where the "fitting room" was set up. She shuttered at the thought of where the pin was poking John. She turned back to the head seamstress who was overlooking the designs she'd modified. John had "volunteered" to go first, since his would be, essentially, a basic tuxedo.
Tess pointed to an erased line. "Originally I'd thought that straps would be nice . . . I think that an off-the-shoulder would be better though."
The seamstress nodded, sending her short, highlighted brown hair bobbing. "I agree," her face seemed to light up. She turned towards the side and picked up a pencil. "However, I think if you want to go for that, instead of a straight-line, you should go for more of a slight V-neck." She traced a more fitting line for the top of the dress. "Nothing revealing, just a small dip. There - see how that makes it seem more balanced?" She turned to gage Tessa's reaction.
She smiled. "I like that. It looks much better-"
"OH MY GOSH! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING TO ME!" came Penny's voice from another corner. Tessa was not looking forward to getting the same treatments.
Tessa had been here with the girls (and John, of course) for hours now. It was actually taking shorter than it would have if she hadn't have emailed Samantha (the head seamstress) the designs ahead of time. They'd also been there once before, so fabric and measurements were ready. Right now the bridal party were all getting the pin treatment.
Tin-Tin yelled something in a foreign language. Tessa had a feeling it meant holy sh-
"WHOA! Watch the hands!" John yelled.
"Done!" the seamstress who was working on Penelope proclaimed. The curtains opened, and Lady Penelope stepped out. Samantha and Tess stood up from their place on a bench in the middle of the large room. Penelope was gorgeous . . . for a bride's maid. Though the pins still stuck out visibly, the makings of a good dress were in it. The pink was very becoming on Penny, and the single-strap seemed perfect for her figure. The rest of the dress was simple, but elegant. It fanned out a bit around the knee.
"It will look better once we get shawls," Samantha proclaimed, turning back to Tessa, "but all-in-all, it seems lovely. However, my opinion is nothing but crap, so what does the bride think?"
Tess smiled. "I love it," she turned her attention back to the seamstress, "and I promise I'll buy shawls today."
Tin-Tin came out then, in the exact same dress. She stood by Penelope and whispered something in her ear. Penelope nodded.
John ran out of the dressing room. "Tessa, this is inhumane! That woman has stuck pins everywhere," He leaned towards her ear, "And I do mean everywhere."
She crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, John, but I can't help that. Now, if it's any consolation, I have to go now, so you can laugh at me while I scream."
She walked towards the biggest curtained-area at that point, Samantha behind her. She stopped at the opening, though , and looked back. "But, incidentally, that pink tie is gorgeous on you."
-
Virgil stared out at the ocean from the balcony. In his hands, he twisted a flower. It wasn't one from Kyrano's garden, but rather a wild flower that grew on its own. Tessa loved it, she'd told him it was her favourite. He could hardly wait for her to be back.
It seemed impossible to him that not quite a year and a half ago, he was perfectly happy amusing himself with music, painting, and missions. But she'd become so much to him . . .
Thousands of miles away, she was thinking about him. After hours of shopping for the few final touches for the dresses - jewellery, shoes, the shawls - she was ready to call it quits. John was too - partly as he'd been elected as bag-carrier.
"Exactly, Tess, how many more bags do we need?" John questioned, a note of pleading in his voice. "I mean, I'm all for hanging out with beautiful girls and all, but now I'm just starting to get concerned with all the pink. That and the fact that two out of three of you are spoken-for."
Tessa chose not to comment on the "two out of three", and instead she sighed from where the four of them sat, sprawled out on a bench. "Well, I'm about ready to call it a day. It's 5 o'clock, and we've been at this for hours. Let's go back to Penny's."
Even Penelope seemed to want to give up. "I'll second that-"
"Third," Tin-Tin and John said at the same time.
Penelope already had her cell phone out. "Parker - it's me. Send the car around . . . on the corner of -" she paused, looking around, "- Samuel and Jackson . . . alright, see you then." She closed the phone and turned to Tessa. "He says he'll be about ten minutes."
Tessa barely heard her. "Right, sure." Samuel and Jackson? she thought. It couldn't be . . .
She glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes widened. There it was. She couldn't believe it. Tessa turned around to fully take in the small bakery.
No one else would have noticed it, but Tessa immediately recognized the faded sign, the stained-glass windows, the homey look. It blended in so well, but to Tessa it stood out. She'd spent most of her life in the small apartment above it and so many hours in that bakery. A lot of memories she'd blocked came back and so many were painful.
I baked some many loaves of bread a day, she recalled, but I could only barely feed us.
"Are you okay?" John's voice and hand on her shoulder broke through her thoughts. She hurriedly wiped a tear balancing precariously at the corner of her eye.
Tessa tried to act as if nothing had happened. "Of course I am - I'm just a little tired . . . isn't that Parker coming up the street?"
-
The guard turned to Mimosa. "You may now enter, Miss. Granger."
She nodded a thank-you, and wandered into the private room. There, in a prison uniform, was her father. She couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, giving away his grief, as he spoke. "Mimosa, darling," he greeted her, getting up from the table to take her hand. She blinked at first, then smiled, taking his. As soon as she sat down, however, she let it go.
"Any news from my sister?" Mimosa asked, trying to sound casual, as if she only brought up the subject because she knew her father wanted to discuss it. In reality, she wanted her sister to be her sister terribly.
The Hood sighed, casting his gaze downward. "She's stubborn - she went as far as to call the prison and disallow my calls, visits with her, et cetera. I've heard nothing, but I know she's in London . . . probably something to do with that infernal marriage of hers."
If it's so infernal, why did you agree when Virgil asked you if he could marry her? Mimosa thought to herself. "Likely," was all she could say.
The Hood's tone suddenly became angry. "The guards have even informed me that she's thinking of pressing charges for the kidnapping that happened close to a year ago. Who does she think she is? I'm her father!" The rage in his voice would have never been mistaken for anything else, but Mimosa's empathic powers were running high. She knew that the Hood was feeling more hurt than angry . . . more so, he wanted revenge.
Mimosa may have wanted her sister, but she'd wanted a father for far longer. "What do you propose we do about it?" she asked.
He calmed down slightly, and after a moment, he let a low laugh echo in his throat. "I have a few ideas . . ."
-
It was the familiar images. They were back. Somehow they'd managed to find her, even though she now lay in a strange bed, in a large home, in a darkened room.
It was so normal, she knew the play off by heart. Every line, every motion, every feature of every person. Finally her part came. The minister droned for a moment, then finally asked his fatal question: ". . . till death do you part?"
Tessa answered, as always, "I do."
The minister smiled upon them, but nowhere near as brightly as Virgil grinned at her. "It is my honour to now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
The moment had come.
Virgil leaned forward, reaching up carefully, and pulling back her veil. Her hands went around his waist, and his immediately dropped down to hers. Their eyes began to shut, and Tessa could swear she actually felt his breathe on her skin as he began to kiss her.
Then the oh-too-familiar shot rang out.
Tessa's eyes shot open. Instinctively, she looked over at Jeff. His expression was exactly the same as always - shocked, and desperate, but otherwise fine. She looked up at Virgil, and the terrible pain was on his face, but this time, something seemed different. She could tell it was hurting him more than ever.
Then she felt it.
She felt the cold, crimson blood staining the front of her dress. The bullet had gone right through, she knew. She removed a hand from his waist, and laid it on her chest, gasping for breath. She felt herself collapsing into Virgil's arms, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She felt the floor of the church on her skin and Virgil's hand under her head. His hand reached for hers, and she saw his face for a brief moment. She saw his pain, far worse than her own, but she could not muster the strength to say anything. Her head fell to the side.
Tessa saw the forms of two people in the shadows. They were barely visible, but it was quite obvious they were arguing.
The last thing she heard was a tear-filled "I love you," and then everything darkened.
-
Tessa woke up, literally screaming in terror. Where am I? Where's Virgil? Oh, God, why have I been placed in someone else's room?
She was shaking in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Was this what her father was planning to do? She was realizing it now. Maybe these were premonitions as to what was going to happen. Maybe he was watching her right now.
She dared not move from her bed. She was scared straight, another tear streaming down her cheeks. Of course, her reaction hadn't been half of what it was the first time she'd dreamed Virgil had died. That time, she'd cried all night, Virgil himself had stayed up with her, convincing her that it was all a dream and that it would never happen. He was safe and would continue to be safe after the wedding.
Virgil . . . all she wanted right now was his arms around her. But, she suddenly realized, he was thousands of miles away.
The door of the room abruptly flung open, and the light was flicked on. Parker stood in the frame, in a complete bedtime ensemble that included a nightcap, a look of horror on his face. "I came as quick as I could. I 'eard you screaming and I 'ad to run up 'ere from my quarters by m'lady's room. What's wrong, Miss?"
She leaned back against the bedframe, relaxing a little at the sight of a familiar face. "I - I'll be fine. Just a bad dream . . . really bad dream."
He took a few steps closer. "Is there anything I can get you? The Lady of the 'ouse usually likes a glass of water and 'er teddy when she has a bad dream-" a look of horror crossed his face. "But don't let 'er know I said that."
Tessa smiled in spite of herself. But it quickly faded. She thought for a moment. "Could you perhaps bring me the phone?"
-
Virgil turned over in his sleep, a smile crossing his face.
"Aw, that's wonderful, Tessa . . . oh, wow, that's great . . . far better than Alan anyway. That kid has no idea what he's doing," he muttered in his sleep.
Jeff stood over him, mortified. He clutched the phone in his hand. He shuttered at the thoughts that crossed his mind as to what his son might be dreaming. He shook his head and spoke up, "Virgil!"
Virgil jumped in his sleep. He looked around, squinting, until he spotted his dad. "Hmm...? Dad?" He groaned, getting up. "Alright, alright, I'll get my uniform on. What pod do I use?"
Jeff shook his head. "No, no, no. It's just the phone." He handed it to Virgil and turned to walk away. He stopped in the door though and turned back. "By the way - I know I'm going to regret this - but what were you dreaming about?"
Virgil blinked. "I was judging a baking contest . . ," he replied, in a tone implying that it should have been obvious. "Why? Was I talking again?"
Jeff sighed in relief. "No reason . . . and, uh, yes . . . you were." He left then, shutting the door behind him.
Virgil held the phone up to his ear and sat down on the bed. "Hello?" he asked in that high-pitched tone that is begotten from being awoken too soon.
There was silence on the other end.
"Hello? This is Virgil?" he said again, in the same voice that made everything sound like a question.
There was deep, troubled breathing on the other end.
"Who's there?" he asked, a little worried.
There was a pause. Then a small voice that he'd recognize in a heartbeat spoke up. "I just wanted to hear your voice . . ." He could tell from the way that the voice got more distant, she wasn't going to talk for very much longer.
"Tess!" he called out. "Baby, please don't hang up." There was a pause, in which no dial tone appeared.
There was heavy breathing again, for a long while. "I had that dream . . . he killed me this time," she finally replied.
It was Virgil's turn to pause. She died? "And . . . what about me?"
"You lived . . . but, you didn't exactly seem happy with the idea."
Virgil was about to yell out, You're darned right I'm not happy with that idea!, but he didn't. "What . . how did . . . who exactly . . ." There were no words. What do you say when your girlfriend has just died in her dream and, despite what you want to believe, there's a good chance it will come true?
"Yes?" she asked, sniffling.
He thought for a moment, but did not hesitate when he spoke. "Just give me an hour."
-
It took him less than that to reach London.
He arrived there a good 10 minutes before schedule, in a secluded wood beside Penny's home. He'd thought that he might have difficulty smuggling Thunderbird One, but in reality, most of his problems had arose when it came time to drive it. He hadn't wanted to bring his own ship - why would you bring an entire cargo ship when all you needed was a fast craft to get from point A to B?
Virgil's only worry now, as Parker escorted him to Tessa's door, was how his father was going to react when he found out in the morning that: a) his son was missing, b) his scout ship was also missing, c) Tessa was likely going to get murdered by her own father and d) that a had stolen b to spend the night with c.
Parker abruptly stopped in front of a large oak door and turned around, facing Virgil once again. "Here you are, sir. Miss Highlander is expecting you."
Virgil was slightly shocked when Parker did not insist on Virgil having his own room. "You don't find this arrangement at all . . . inappropriate?" he questioned.
Parker smiled. "I know enough to trust you, Mr. Tracy. I also know that if I did give you a separate room, you'd spend the entire night opening every door to find Miss. Highlander anyway."
Virgil grinned and opened the door, making sure to close it tightly behind him. There, perched on the bed was Tessa, in silk pyjamas he'd bought her once. He knew for a fact that she did not wear them often. He set his suitcase down beside the door as she got up and walked towards him.
She eyed him up and down, as he did her. She took a final step towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he rested his hands on her waist. "I can't believe you borrowed the jet and flew all the way here just to see me," she said, clearly unaware that he had stolen her Thunderbird and then flown all the way across the ocean in his pyjamas.
Instead of correcting her though, Virgil leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. "It was worth it," was all he said.
