When she woke, disoriented, Aeon froze, attempting to discern where she was. The sound of another's breathing and the feel of sheets against her bare skin were subtle clues. She felt someone next to her shift, and she sat up quickly. A hand brushed her back. Aeon whipped around, on the defensive, but was stopped. "Trevor."
She didn't relax-she couldn't afford to. Instead, Aeon blinked, trying to remember what had transpired since she entered this room. Flickers of images, blurred memories, buzzed about her head unpleasantly. She shifted through them, trying to find something concrete. All that stood out was Trevor's face, over and over in a thousand different ways.
Apparently her expression was enough to send her bedmate into a small panic. Trevor sat up, cupping her cheek, eyes anxious. When her gaze failed to focus on him, he began soft soothing noises, stroking her hair. Aeon blinked heavily, feeling weighed down by the visions. It took almost five minutes for her to regain some semblance of full consciousness. Finally focusing properly, she stared into the chairman's eyes. Uncertainty met her.
"What is happening to me?" she whispered. "Why does this keep affecting me?"
"What are you seeing?"
Her hands found him, but not of her conscious will. "You. I keep seeing you."
His grip tightened. "Are you with me?"
"Sometimes…I think. I don't know."
He lay down and pulled her to him, placing her head against his chest. Once settled, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Aeon. I don't mean to cause you pain."
She drew back. "It's you doing this?"
From where he lay, he watched her with keen eyes. "Indirectly."
For several minutes they sat in silence. Aeon glanced about the room, absorbing the changes that had occurred since she left. The desk had less clutter, surprisingly. There were no flowers of plants-a change. His favourite abstract canvas was gone, or at least removed to be hung elsewhere, replaced with several framed prints of her, Una, and himself. Oren was even in one, their second-to-last family portrait. In that one they all appeared stiff and carefully groomed. Aeon's hair had been released from its plait, and was sleek and shiny. Another picture, much older, of the day they played in the fountain in the court yard. It had been so hot when Trevor caught them out there-they weren't typically allowed to swim in the capitol fountains, but he'd let them just for that day. When he first approached in his long stride, face impassive, still wearing his usual coat even though it was burning outdoors, the girls had been scrambling to find some kind of excuse. But then he began removing his jacket, shoes and socks, and rolling up his pantlegs. They'd had so much fun that day. In the photo Trevor appeared soaked with a tiny Una perched on his shoulders and a less-tiny Aeon being held in place for the photo against his chest. They were all smiling or laughing.
The final photo was of Aeon. Simply Aeon. Her and no one else. It was entirely unfamiliar to her. She sat, hair braided in a thick rope, against one of the columns that lined their court yard. Book in hand, she had been entirely focused on the text, having not the slightest idea that her picture was being taken.
Looking at it now, she decided she looked…pretty. Not beautiful, or elegant. Just pretty. Nice. Happy.
Aeon startled herself when she realized that while musing over the photos, she had actually stepped out of bed and crossed the room, and that she was standing in front of the wall where their pictures hung. Glancing back at Trevor reclining in bed, she wondered when the picture had been taken. She didn't look much older than nineteen, possibly eighteen. Right before she left, then.
And then, suddenly, the picture changed. She was about the same age, sitting back in one of the forum's velvet seats, eyes bright, feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of her. Aeon stared. She must have been watching one of Trevor's speeches.
Thirteen more times the photo changed, each shot taken without her knowledge. In each she looked at least vaguely happen. She was over the age of sixteen in every one. There were even a few from her life outside of the capitol.
"It changes when it knows it's being watched. Trevor had followed her. When she turned her head to look at him, his chest brushed her back. "I told you. I could've brought you home any time I wanted."
"All this time, you've been watching me."
"No," he admitted. "There were months you were off the grid. I wanted you to have some privacy. I simply kept an eye out for you. The only times I ever saw you it was by chance."
"Trevor…." She turned to him, staring up. He gazed back.
"I would have done whatever you asked of me, Aeon. But you left. I couldn't bear to see you further hurt."
Trevor lifted her hands, kissing the knuckles. "Even when you were conspiring against me, mind."
She had to laugh at that. So she did, before growing somber.
"What now?"
"You'll stay here." He was earnest. "You need protection now. The Monicans-we can keep you safe."
Aeon shook her head. "It isn't that easy."
"It could be."
Suddenly weary, Aeon fell into him, burying her head in his chest. "No. It really isn't."
They agreed to continue the discussion in the morning. He would cancel all appointments. She would see Una. With some planning, they would be fine. They would be a family again-with a few roles altered. He promised.
As dearly as Trevor wished it to be true, Aeon knew it simply wasn't possible. If she were a traitor to the Monicans (and of that she wasn't even sure, she could still return) then protection would be necessary, yes. But capitol protection? After all, she had broken in. She knew others that might as easily do the same. The bottom line came down to a single thought: staying endangered Trevor and it endangered Una. The Monicans knew of Una. Even if she removed herself from the capitol after her wedding, Aeon's younger sister would still be at risk. The rebels were not above retribution. Not by a long shot.
The solution was simple: Aeon had to go.
As soon as she could hear Trevor's even, heavy breathing, Aeon slipped from the bed. She put on her close, returned her gun to its holster, zipped up her boots. Crossing the room, something caught her eye and she looked back. The photo frame that changed had stopped on a picture that stopped her heart. The day in the forum, when they'd danced. The photo was frozen on the exact moment he'd dipped her for messing up his hair. The expression on both of their faces was something akin to ecstasy, bliss. Intense, bright. One of her hands was slung around his neck, the other touching his cheek. They both appeared happy. Healthy. Brilliant.
Aeon reached up to touch the frame, throat closing.
That was when the floor opened in the center of the room, stairs sliding out loudly. Aeon spun on her heels. Thankfully, Trevor slept through the noise. She crept forward to gaze into the impenetrable darkness below. All she could make out were stairs and black. Thinking it to be the better of two evils- - - exiting the way she had previously come, or walking down into a giant black pit beneath the chairman's bedroom- - - Aeon headed down.
Lights flicked on, and she was greeted with a nice formal study. Books lined on wall, complimented with sleek lamps, armchairs and a polished ladder used for higher shelves. A desk stood as the primary focus of the opposite wall, a series of the Goodchilds behind it. Aeon examined each face. If she didn't know better, she would say they were each the same person. But the clothing some of the figures were depicted in were simply un-Trevor. Old fashioned.
She found both exits, but hesitated before choosing one. At the second, she came across the starfish belt. It slunk onto her with a snap, and in her rush to figure it out, Aeon pressed the center button. Her vision altered, leading her to a stark white, sterile laboratory.
Beakers, vials, and drip tubes lined the counters and shelves. There were no notes, but a small recorder. She pressed the "on" switch. What came out was Trevor's rich tones, speaking of test subjects, failures, and potential common factors. Aeon switched it off as she further investigated the room. She pocketed the recorder. There was still much to be listened. She turned back to the room at large, stopping every so often to examine a particular specimen or piece of equipment.
In a setting of white and glass, it stood out quickly. Tucked between two beakers, she found the small photo.
It wasn't her. At least, it wasn't her now. The hair was long, as it had been in her youth. But the Aeon in the photo was significantly older than the Aeon looking at the picture. Besides that, the photo was old, curling at the edges. It had been held many times. And she had a notion by whom.
Taking the starfish off, Aeon made her decision. Tucking the picture in her sleeve, she started for the circular door.
But before she would step through, a sound from behind caught her attention. Aeon spun.
Freya had been waiting for her, gun at the ready.
The assistant's eyes grew wide with recognition. "Aeon."
The Monican did not move. She waited, eyes equally wide. "I was just leaving."
"What are you doing….?"
The door was opening. Aeon shot through, dashing from the room. Freya made to follow, but the flower was shutting just as she reached it. Aeon shot it once in the center, killing the in-line power and shutting it down. And then she ran.
-XXX-
The Relicle. It was a monument. A testament. A symbol.
And something more, according to Trevor's data.
He'd mentioned it several times, in passing, as he recorded his notes.
Aeon entered expecting nothing. She had no preconceived notions, merely curiosity. Maybe, just maybe their salvation lay in the floating monument. She had betrayed her people, her friends. Something had to be there. It must. Because, if not, then she was wrong. Wrong to issue a betrayal.
She did find something-the old man, the keeper of The Relicle. He spoke to her of city, the people, of its past. Of her parents.
Just a few words. Enough to make her curious. So, she looked up her mother's name- - - Adrina Flux- - - and found a entire list of women. A flood of pictures. And another name- - - -Sasha Prillo. It took Aeon all of two seconds to understand. Then another three to make up her mind. She located an address. She ought to reach the house by morning.
-XXX-
Okay, so we get some creepin' going on. There have been a few minor plot changes, to allow for...stuff. In this context, I just don't see Aeon choking him out. And with Una still alive, things have become difficult, so I had to use her madre. We can assume that all other events of the film are basically the same-nothing alters much from the original plot, unless I mention it in the story-text.
Quick disclaimer, all dialogue from the movie is...from the movie...and therefore doesn't belong to me.
Please review! Love me some feeback! And I just graduated...think of it as a gift? Huh?