the scars of our mother's sins
(Or, the one in which Natalie and Ian come to terms with what their parents have done to them)
For Rival Argentica
The shoes are supposed to help.
Ian ushers Natalie into her favorite shop in the entire world (her words, not his), Harrods, intent upon restoring some holiday cheer in Natalie by letting her spend large amounts of money on footwear.
Once upon a time, Natalie would have jumped at the opportunity to buy new shoes, but today when he'd suggested it, she had only smiled wanly and said, "we really don't have to."
"Nonsense," he'd said dismissively. "You always buy more during the holidays. There's no need to do things differently this year."
Differently… as if their whole world hadn't collapsed around them in the past few months.
So now, Ian practically marches Natalie into the luxurious women's footwear section of Harrods, and quickly procures them a private dressing room that comes with an obnoxiously perky shop attendant.
"Anything you're looking for in particular, Miss?" The attendant asks eagerly, and if Ian was in a less charitable mood, he'd probably liken her to a dog wagging its tail eagerly and waiting for its master to play a round of fetch.
"Erm…" Natalie trails off uncertainly, and looks to Ian. She does that a lot these days- before, she would have mocked anyone who was unladylike enough to use that dastardly verbal filler "erm", but now, she does it herself.
"Something appropriate for the holidays?" Ian tries to fill in for her, despite his limited knowledge on women's footwear, and what shoes actually constitute as 'holiday-appropriate'. "We do have many parties to attend during the season."
"Yes," Natalie agrees hastily, looking at the attendant with a trace of her old imperious attitude. "You may go now."
The woman nods before scurrying off, leaving the two siblings in silence.
The attendant soon returns with a large selection of shoes, having brought them in on a trolley. She had taken "holiday-appropriate" to mean red, green, glittery, and of course, outrageously expensive.
Natalie does not look too enthused as she removes her ankle boots. The shop attendant audibly gasps when she sees the mess of scar tissue that is Natalie's foot.
"Oh dear!" She exclaims, and before she can ask anything further, Ian quickly says, "she had a bad fall."
The woman smiles a simpering smile back, no doubt thinking that Natalie had probably imbibed one too many tequila shot over a weekend at her friend's country home and fallen off a horse.
Natalie's somewhat hopeful expression falls immediately.
Some time later, Natalie comes across a pair of green velvet Roger Vivier stilettos, and is looking at them consideringly when the attendant chimes in, "are you sure you'd want a pair with such an open side, dear? Perhaps something with thicker straps…?" She trails off, no doubt referring to Natalie's injury, and the heavily visible scarring.
Ian and Natalie both studiously ignore her, although Ian catches Natalie biting her lip, and then shoving the Vivier heels to the side.
A little while after that, the attendant speaks once more, this time, as Natalie is trying on her favorite, Jimmy Choos. "There are always cosmetic procedures that can correct that," she tells Natalie as though it's their little secret and no one needn't ever know.
Now Natalie looks like she's about to cry, and Ian has just about had enough.
"We'd like a moment, please," Ian says, attempting to be as dismissive as he can, but the woman clearly doesn't get the hint, because she says brightly, "of course! And which ones would you like to select for purchase?"
Ian is fuming. Can this idiot woman not see that his sister is nearly in tears? So he practically throws his Amex Black at her, and snarls, "We'll take the lot."
The attendant obliviously takes the card and bustles off cheerfully, probably thinking of the obscene commission she's about to make.
"What happened?" Ian asks Natalie softly, once the attendant is safely out of earshot. Tact has never been his strong suit, but even he can tell something is wrong here.
"It's my foot," Natalie murmurs, her lower lip trembling slightly, as if she's trying to contain herself. To watch her struggle- his baby sister who prided herself on never giving an inch- is painful to Ian in more ways than one.
So he tries to sooth her. "We can get the cosmetic procedure if the scarring-"
"-But it's not the scarring!" Natalie bursts out, and to her horror, tears begin to well in her eyes. "It's that mummy-"
She bursts into tears at the same time Ian reaches for her and engulfs her in his embrace.
When was the last time he'd done this for her? Really, when was the last time they'd ever hugged like this?
For as long as they could remember, affection was for the weak. To show that you cared was to be looked down upon in the same way fast food and state schools were- as low class, for peasants.
Yet another way Isabel and Vikram Kabra has scarred them, in ways that go much further than Natalie's injuries.
He doesn't know how long he holds her- as long as it takes for the sobs wracking her body to subside When he finally pulls away, she lets out a tiny hiccup, trying desperately to contain herself.
"Mummy- our mother- did this," Natalie says miserably, using her thumb to wipe away the smudged mascara under her eyes. Ian knows he probably has dark stains on his oxford as well, but he can hardly bring himself to care. "She never cared for us. She never loved us."
He does not argue with her. Once upon a time, he would have made excuses- "But look at all the wealth and opportunities they gave us, Natalie" or "Mother has more important things to do," or if he was being slightly more honest, "It's not that Mum doesn't care for us, it's just that she loves power more."
But not now.
"We're on our own, Natalie," Ian says heavily. "For better or for worse, but we're on our own."
He's weak- he knows this. He still cannot admit out loud that their parents never loved them, and that they were merely pawns in their game for world domination.
So lost in their thoughts, Ian barely notices the shop attendant scurrying back, ladled down with boxes upon boxes with shoes.
"You won't leave me, will you Ian?"
His sister's quiet voice shakes him from his reverie. She's attempting to stand up comport herself before the attendant sees her in a state of disarray.
He grabs her hand and steadies her, and looks into her amber eyes, so like his own, and knows that he will happily spend a lifetime atoning for the sins of their parents if it means making his sister smile again.
"I'll always be there for you, Natalie."
Hello! I hope you enjoyed this Snippet- let me know what you think!
I hope to update my "Debunked" fic very soon, and in the meanwhile, have a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!