"Colonel Schnee," The guard said warmly. "It's good to see you here. I assume you're here because Madame Morell placed you on the PENNY Project?"
Alice smiled. "I haven't been reinstated yet. It's still thirteen days away."
"Formally," He said, opening the door for her. "The android is waiting for you."
"Thank you, darling," Alice said, perhaps far too cheerfully. "It's good to see you all again."
"And you too, Colonel Schnee," He said kindly. "I will keep guard."
The door shut almost silently behind her but she raised an eyebrow when she saw the girl sitting in the room. Her hands were primly in her lap but she looked nothing like her wife had described. This girl did not have green eyes and curly red hair. Instead, she had hair as black as night and straight as hay while her eyes were a very light grey. She was as seemingly deathly pale as both Alice and her wife but she lacked the color that evened out the two women's pasty complexions. This was no woman, and, even knowing this, Alice felt ill at ease. Something simply did not feel right and she was deeply afraid of what could be to come. The Vytal Festival was creeping upon them and the anticipation of was worse each day that passed. Alice eyed the girl critically and she looked back at her almost in fear.
"I don't believe you've met me before," Alice said, her voice clipped despite her own trepidation. "I'm Colonel Schnee, one of your superiors. Madame Morell placed me on this project, alongside General Ciel, General Ironwood, Madame Mar, and Dr. Schnee."
Penny's eyes went wide when she realized who she was.
"You're Dr. Schnee's wife," She said simply. "Salutations."
Alice nodded shortly. "Yes. Your appearance is different than I thought it would be, based on your file. Did Pierto recently adjust your looks?"
She glanced to her hesitantly. "He did," She told her. "It's for the Vytal Festival. He wants me to be plain and fit in as an ordinary competitor."
"You're most certainly not," Alice remarked. "You're not even human."
Penny looked distinctly crestfallen. "You're right," She said sadly. "I'm not."
Alice took a seat herself across from the android, with one hand fingering her Nagant M1895 in her jacket pocket and tapping lightly against the small coffee table.
"What name are you going by for the Vytal Festival?" Alice finally said. "I can't imagine the Council wanting you to be particularly conspicuous, especially given that Pierto altered your looks for it."
Penny stared down at her hands again. "My father says I'll be called Iris Sorlen. Unusual, but probably an institutional name."
"Institutional?" Alice repeated dubiously, her eyebrows raised. "You do know that often refers to the psychiatric ward, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, but in the case I mean…" Penny paused and then, by compulsion, continued. "By institutional I mean orphanage. I'll be nobody. That's what they all want, isn't it?"
"It is," Alice said, frowning. "But forgive me if I lack faith in your trustworthiness or capabilities."
"I understand," Penny said tonelessly. "I believe Madame Morell and Madame Mar feel very much the same way as you do on that matter."
"Hmmph," Alice eyed her for another moment. "All things considered, you remain...fascinating. I'll be looking forward to figuring you out."
A flash of fear registered across Penny's face for the briefest of moments but it was, nevertheless, caught up Alice.
"You would do well to tread lightly," Alice informed her. "With all of us."
"Are you…" Penny began to shake, as if she were trembling in fear. "Are you threatening me? Do you want to...are you -"
"I'm not threatening you, not all," Alice swiftly stood up but lingered in the doorway. Sighing, she shook her head and sent Penny a sharp look. "But you sure as hell need to remember that we created you in the first place and we can, if necessary, destroy you just as simply."
With a deafening shock, the door slammed behind her and the android was left feeling afraid and a little cold for the first time. It seemed, to her, that everything was still a first. No wonder she was so damn scared.
"I confess that I know not what the future holds," Annabella Sassler said, her hands folded primly in her lap as she spoke with Raquel Madden on the evening news. "My hope is that, with the Vytal Festival, we will be able to move forward as we always have."
Madden nodded. "That seems to be the prevailing opinion among all of us, President Sassler."
"I am human," She replied calmly. "I have fear, trepidation, and an emotional spectrum just like my people do. I know these last few weeks have been tumultuous for the country at best, but I think it's important for the people to know they have been difficult for me too."
Her heart was racing with every word she spoke. However composed she looked on the outside, it was nothing short of an illusion. It was an illusion she had been creating and destroying every day of her life when in the mornings she would have to start over and try and rectify what she believed she had done wrong. The weight of the world seemed to be on her shoulders and she knew the importance of her position all too well. People looked to Atlas as a symbol of strength, and its leaders as examples. She did not believe she was that behind closed doors, in her personal life. Guilt felt as if it were about to subsume her as the thought of her children and her husband. Her kids, even when they had been difficult or angry, still loved her despite everything and Brian had stood by her side even when she had overstepped.
Damn Ronnie Ciel for having the brains to figure her out.
It made her feel even worse for having given in and started sleeping with Edward Ciel when her husband was out of town. She could never deny how good it felt to be with him, but she knew she still loved Brian more than anything else. It was a relentless cycle she had caught herself in and she knew it was all her fault. Because of it, she was thoroughly convinced that she had always hidden behind a different version of herself, a version of herself she created through the illusion of her hair, lashes, nails, and body. It was now, with the lights shining down on her and the words she had well-rehearsed being saved for the future, that she felt most vulnerable even though she was preserving her legacy. That meant more to her than most things in the world, and she had always been blessed with it all. She wished what she pretended to be was real, but it never would be and never could be.
The fact that she had always been silver-tongued made everything worse and could bring to light her darkest secret, that everything she had ever done or wanted was in or through the pathological.
'We'll be back with more in a few minutes," Madden said, glancing to the camera after a sharp look from her producers. "Watch this space; stay with us."
The cameras stopped rolling instantly and Madden looked to Sassler with a look of genuine sympathy.
"You and I are in the same business, you know," Sassler said quietly. "We both have to present our best with what we know and, often times, that means we're either on the nose or very wrong."
Madden sighed. "It can be difficult to explain the truth when it feels that no one wants to listen."
"That's because we're safest in our glass houses," Sassler replied. "At the end of the day, we all fear quite a bit and we don't' know what to do other than place our faith in the Council, the courts, and the military. Atlas is the world's strongest military power and, at the same time, still the freest of all the kingdoms with respect to individual liberties."
"There is a reason people call it the greatest kingdom," Madden murmured, checking out of the corner of her eye to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "Despite the some of the less than honorable things we've done, we always manage to come out on the right side of things, don't we? We have a cleaner record than most of the rest of the world, after all."
"We do," Sassler agreed. "And yet we remain unsure of how to move forward and are caught in an endless battle. I wonder how many people truly realize that perfection is simply unattainable in not just politics but in love, war, family, anger, remorse, sadness, happiness, and the full spectrum of emotions."
"Not many, I'd wager," Madden shook her head. "If only, though. It seems more than we care to admit is unattainable, isn't it?"
The producers began their countdown to return to the air and the two women shared a knowing look.
"Let's put our masks back on," Madden said, her voice almost inaudible. "They may very well be all we have."
Sassler managed a smile but Madden knew full well that it could never be genuine.
"Madeline?" Cate Schnee raised an eyebrow and then sighed. "Listen, if you're here because you want to talk to Al about…"
"She told you?" Madeline paused for a moment. "Never mind. I'm not surprised. You would have figured it out sooner rather than later. You're too smart for this."
"You're perhaps overestimating my abilities," She said tiredly. "But, really, what is it?"
Madeline nervously stepped into the apartment and said nothing for a long time, afraid to confess what was truly on her mind.
"Cate, we've been close for years even if we have different...morals," She slowly started. "And you've told me almost everything that's ever happened to you. The attempt your former boyfriend made on your life when you were twenty or so, or how you were emotionally abused by one of your girlfriends -"
"Maddie -" She began, her voice shaking.
"I still remember what you said about the latter," She softly finished. "That you were too young and that she should have known better than to lean on you."
Cate bit her lip. "I'm shocked you remember that."
"I know what that's like," Madeline said, her voice little more than a whisper. "Cate...let me tell you a story that I've never told anyone."
She motioned for her to sit down and nodded shortly. "Okay…"
"When I was sixteen years old, I made the mistake of starting an affair with my father's closest co-worker," Madeline stared at her hands and she forced herself to continue. "I had been coming onto him for over a year because I was young and wanted something in my life to be exciting. Up until then, my life had been bland. Of course, as it turned out, I was better off before. He was robbing me of all I had, raping me, and...one day...I snapped. I had only meant to show him that he couldn't control me...and I accidentally pushed him down a flight of stairs and he split open his head in the fall. I was acquitted because everyone assumed that the traces of my DNA on him were from the things he was doing to me and that he fell because he was drunk. But it was never true. I killed him."
Cate took in a sharp breath but shook her head. "Maddie, listen to me," She said gently. "It sounds like, whatever the case, you were defending yourself. I know that doesn't change how you feel, but I want you to at least know that you're not a killer because of that. You're not even a killer now. You did horrible things when you worked for the CIA, and you're a co-conspirator in Scarlatina's murder but you are not a killer. Not in the sense you think you are."
"I've never moved on, though," Madeline said, burying her face in her hands and starting to cry. "Why do you think I took on the work I did? I needed something to prove that I'm not weak, that I…"
"I know," Cate said quietly. "I've done things I'm not proud of to prove I'm not weak too. Not to the same degree, of course, but I have."
Madeline swallowed hard. "Does...honestly, does everything you've been through still drive you mad?"
"I suppose…" Cate hesitated, fidgeting with her glasses and then her wedding ring. "I suppose they still affect me. Things like this don't leave you, even if you can manage to move forward which we both have. If I'm being honest, I still don't know where I'm going and I have a hell of a time trying to get out of bed most days but it's been a long time since then and I don't gain anything by looking back because I have my whole life left to live, don't I?"
"We both do," Madeline laughed weakly. "Maybe more than we know."
"Look," Cate said, crossing her arms. "I've been underestimated my whole life, and viewed more like a pretty flower painted on the wall that knows more than most. I think you've felt that too."
Madeline sighed. "More than you know."
"That I don't doubt," She replied.
"I've never been able to tell Ronnie everything, you know," Madeline said, suddenly looking much younger. "I love him more than anything, but I never have been able to be truly honest about my past with him. You and Alice are lucky. It sounds like you two can share anything."
"Al and I are a different story," Cate countered. "We know what the other is going through, to some extent. And, honestly, our stories are very different, you and I. The difference between you and me, sweetie, isn't in how much we may have endured...it's in how we've handled ourselves with it."
Willow Schnee was standing in the glass house, her fingers brushing ever so lightly against the bloom of rose. It was as red as blood and it seemed to sparkle in the winter sunlight. It was well below freezing outside and there was still much snow on the ground but, inside her glasshouse, it was warm. Even without the small heating system, the light that came in warmed her. Her white hair glinted in the light, as did her delicate gold necklace and her shining wedding ring. Around her were gorgeous vines of ivy, blossoms of all different kinds of flowers, and, of course, her beloved roses. There was something about the delicate nature of them that she felt drawn to. They lived within her care all year, even despite the unforgiving outside world, and it brought her a sense of calm that nothing else did. It was why she spent so much time alone in her garden. Without it, she too would wither.
At the very end of the delicate enclosure was a single rose that she had kept abloom for the last two years but, for all the attention and care it received, it was wilting. On the floor around it were its fallen petals. Willow walked, her gait almost hesitant, and when she reached the rose she paused reverently. Then, she bent down and took each fallen petal into her hands individually. She examined them closely, and held them up to the light. The color they had once held was fading and their edges were beginning to curl in. With each one she picked up, her hands felt as if they grew heavier even though she placed the petals into a small silver box when she finished her examination. The box never left the side of the plant and would, one day, she knew, hold all that remained of it. She glanced up, and, with a heavy heart, she saw the future for the briefest of seconds before it came to fruition.
And, with that, the last petal fell.
She was on her knees, now, and had lost her sense of time whilst she collected and observed the remaining petals. She was saving the last one, for it was too important not to be treated as such. Oh, there was something profoundly cathartic in this, for her alone, and it was a necessary reflection. Her mind had been seemingly cluttered for too long and she needed this time to breathe. Too often it seemed she had lost all understanding and feeling. The numbness that would overtake her often drove her to spend days without ever leaving her quarters, something that worried all of her children and Jacques. That was the one thing she knew truly concerned him. He may not love her, that she felt had been made clear, but there was a deep care within him still. She knew that he worried for her, but she couldn't take it. She scarcely knew what was a truth and what was a lie, anymore, and it was deeply upsetting. She had always thought she was smarter than that. She had always believed she saw more, but, it seemed, that was not the case and she was starting to doubt if it had ever been.
"You're out here again," The familiar voice remarked.
Willow turned slightly to see her eldest nervously step into the glass house.
"Winter," She said softly. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine out here."
"I know you are," She replied. "Is there something wrong with making an observation?"
Willow laughed weakly. "You always have possessed great wit, haven't you?"
"I certainly try to, at any rate," Winter sighed and joined her mother on the ground. "Did it finally die?"
Willow nodded shortly and delicately set the last petal into the box.
"It was time," She said after a silence. "Well beyond it, perhaps."
Winter placed a hand gently to her mother's shoulder.
"Are you doing alright?" She asked. "I was on my way out but thought I should stop by to see you. Weiss and Whitley both seemed concerned."
"I'm perfectly fine, dear," Willow told her although she herself did not fully believe it. "If I weren't, I suspect it would be rather obvious."
"That's unconvincing," Winter shook her head. "Mother, please, I'm not a child anymore. You can tell me the truth. There is nothing you need to protect me from -"
"There will always be something to protect you from," Willow replied, resting a hand over her daughter's. "I am your mother, Winter, and that does not change simply because you are an adult."
Winter managed a small smile. "I know," She said, glancing away. "I suppose that's how it always will be."