Aleska Jones felt as if her world had been upturned, too soon, too drastically for too many times.
"Aleska," Sergi's voice was hoarse. And strained and tired as Aleska felt.
"Sergi," she returned.
"You should rest," he told her, softly.
She could not. It was that simple. It was not her surroundings- though the spacious apartment owned by her father-in-law did not feel comforting- it was not even his company. Even if Aleska thinks she will always feel other when she is in the gaze of Sergi Jones. But rather instead she is too anxious to sleep. She could not sleep with the knowledge that someone had taken her daughter. So she sat, vigil, by the telephone. For news. For the time it would be time to legally declare her child missing, even if the Police were already considering the case as such.
She needed to do something. So she sat by the telephone, waiting.
It felt like nothing. Part of her wished to flee to the streets- search every street and room of Chicago, to find her little Jupiter. But she was prudent. She knew it would do nothing to bring her child back. Only put her in danger, or prevent her from being present when news came.
"I cannot, Sergi," her voice was even more stilted than usual, her gaze on the modern, sleek house phone on the small end table.
Sergi gave a sigh and placed a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee in front of her. Aleska blinked, suddenly realizing that the smell permeated the apartment flat. She had not even noticed. At his focused gaze on her, she reached for the mug. It was a bitter thing. No sugar, no cream. But it was warm, and as Aleska shuddered at the taste, more needed then she realized. Sergi nursed his own mug.
"The explosion seemed to be unrelated to Jupiter's disappearance," he said, changing the topic.
His different eyes were far away now, drinking his own coffee. Aleska frowned, hands gripping tightly on the ceramic mug.
"It was some sort of machinery malfunction on the fifth floor."
"The Nurse, Andy, said that he had checked on Jupiter forty minutes before the explosion. And that when it happened she was the first he checked on before he had to look for the other patients. And that she was gone."
"Coincidence," he said simply, a frown on his face.
Aleska pursed her lips.
"It seems too much of a coincidence."
Sergi sighed.
"I have my best people looking into it."
"Max told me you were ah, spy? Like James Bond, yes?"
She made her hand like a gun, lifting it by her head like the poster for the most recent Bond film, GoldenEye, in an attempt at a joke. Sergi surprised her completely by snorting. A smile on his face, eyes twinkling. For a moment she saw Max- she saw him in his father and it made her heartache.
"I am retired. And if anything I was most like M- I deligated, I was not a spy myself. I would not have lasted that long on the Red's soil otherwise. But I have my former connections to try and find Jupiter..."
"Thank you."
"... I am sorry Aleska."
She blinked. In Sergi's face, she saw remorse and pain.
"I fear that Jupiter was taken because of my connections."
Accusations lingered on Aleska's tongue. Despite the formation of their tentative truce and attempt to become better for the sake of Jupiter… Aleska knew old hurts lingered. And in her hurt and fear, she could lash out. And Sergi and her would let those slip away unmentioned when Jupiter was found.
"We cannot rule that out," Aleska was proud of how measured her response was. Of how she only let exhaustion into her tone, and no accusation, "But we cannot also rule out that she was taken because of more mundane reasons."
Sergi nodded.
"We will find her Aleska."
Aleska drank her bitter coffee. And she too, nodded, "Yes. We will."