Port Farrall
Present Day
"Trust…is such a funny thing. It can take years to build it up, and a heartbeat to break it into pieces. Once it is broken, it is so difficult to repair."
- Momma when Bri was threatening to leave the Stranded Complex.
The snow was so cold. That was the only thing that registered in my stunned mind – the freezing cold. Part of it had melted and was seeping into the cloth on my back and legs. My bare hands were red and angry as they lay limp and useless in the fluffy white. I hated the cold – I remembered that much. Every year I hated the return of Frost. Couldn't it be an endless summer?
The snow was cold; the world was frozen, but my face burned like dying embers in a fire. I could feel the heat light my cheeks up into a burning red. I didn't feel the emotion behind the physical reaction – Embarrassment? Anger? – I could only feel the heated blood rushing just beneath the skin. The heat of emotion meshed with the icy world until everything melted in my peripheral. That was it, wasn't it? Melted snow and ice – that's what accounted for the water upon my cheeks.
I have no daughter.
Oh. No. No, it wasn't just melted water on my cheeks. Those were tears; I suppose that accounted for the salty taste in my mouth. I was crying. How about that? Crying over a stupid, stupid man.
I have no daughter.
Fine. That was just fine with me. He forgot one thing, however. If he didn't have a daughter, then I didn't have a father. Didn't have a stupid, stupid family that only served to get close enough to rip you to shreds. No, I didn't have a father. I should have just remembered that in the first place.
I have no daughter.
The heavy oak door remained slammed shut. I stared at it for a while longer, still trying to comprehend all that it represented, before I sat up. The frozen weight in my heart started to crack and shatter, stabbing me from the inside. The pain and hurt was breathtaking in its severity. The sting crawled up through my chest into my throat and suffocated me. I tried in vain to swallow back the tears while thinking how damn hard it was to stand your ground when everyone around you was trying to bury you beneath it.
I don't know how long I sat there on my ass is the slush and cold – whether it had been a minute, or an hour, or an entire day – when I slowly became aware of a presence just behind me. It took me a minute longer to realize I had to physically turn my head to see who was there. Another minute to remember how to find my muscles, and I looked.
I should never have looked. Who else would it have been?
Marcus stared at me from an impossible height. His expression revealed nothing – it never did. It made sense that he was here; where Dom was, Marcus was soon to follow. They were like some sick, twisted version of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb. I searched in vain for the right words to say. What was there to say? He had rejected me, fully and completely. I had no words to explain the way that felt. It wouldn't matter if I did find my voice; I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak, because if I opened my mouth I was going to scream.
Marcus knelt down in the snow and slush to be by my side. I could feel his eyes upon my tear-streaked face, but for once his gaze didn't feel cold. It actually felt…comforting. Familiar. For once I had somebody on my side. "Sylvia," he said in his deep rumble, "What happened?"
I couldn't answer him. I didn't know how. He didn't want to know, anyhow; not really. He could read it in the flush on my cheeks and the slammed door behind us. I'd also be willing to wager that he had been watching from a distance. He wanted to know if I was alright; if I could get up and learn to live again. I was getting better at translating Marcus-speak. Sometimes you had to read between the lines.
"I remember you, too, you know," I finally said. I stared at the grey slush slowly melting and being absorbed into my clothing. "'Uncle Marcus'. You were there as I was growing up. I didn't remember, but now I do."
He didn't say anything, simply shifted uncomfortably on his heels. There was nothing to say, just a lifetime of unanswered prayers and unasked questions standing between us. "We'll try again," he finally muttered. "He'll have to listen. Trust me."
"What I think," I interrupted him, my voice quiet, contemplative, and controlled, "is that I'll never be able to trust anyone again."
And I wouldn't. Trusting people just got yourself hurt – in so many different ways. How many times would I have to learn that lesson before it truly sank in? Bane's number one rule – put yourself first. Putting myself first meant getting up, walking away, and forgetting any of this ever happened. It was what I should do. What I should have wanted to do. Instead, I allowed Marcus to take hold of my arm with his hand and gently lift me to my feet. He didn't drop his hand; instead letting it wrap comfortingly around my bicep as he began to speak.
"Think about when you first realized the truth." I didn't want to, so I didn't let myself travel back to Nexus. Instead I focused my attention on his blue gaze. "Remember the shock and horror you felt. Dom has to work through that himself, and then he'll pull his head out of his ass. We'll explain. We'll tell him-"
"No. He said it himself. He doesn't have-" I had to close my eyes against the quick flare of pain. "He doesn't want me. And I don't need him."
There was an indeterminable silence on both of our parts. The city slowly became darker and colder as the sun sank on another horrible, horrible day. I just wanted this all to end, to make all the pain and sorrow – not just my own, but everyone's – go far, far away. Maybe it was just a part of me that never truly grew up, but something still made me believe that there could be a better tomorrow. That small part of me was what made me open my eyes.
Marcus' gaze never left my face. "Everyone needs someone." His grip tightened once on my arm before he let me go. He fell quiet once more, allowing me all the time in the world I needed to make up my mind. He wasn't going to force me into anything. Even from the beginning, he had never tried to force me one way or another. He had allowed me to run away when I needed to, welcomed me back when I returned, and allowed me to take things at my own pace. Even now, when we were all so close to finally realizing the truth, he allowed me to take things at my own pace. It was up to me. I could have walked away, ran as far as my legs would take me. I could have never returned to this place. I could forget this ever happened.
But because he had given me a choice, I had none. If I wanted to run away, he would allow it, but he knew I could not. He expected so much more of me – demanded it in that quiet commanding presence all good Sergeants had. There was another part of me that wanted to prove myself to him, wanted to prove that I was strong enough. And I would be – I had to be.
"Okay," I finally agreed. "But I still get to say 'I-told-you-so'."
And with my bland attempt at humor, Marcus reached out and opened the door that I thought had been closed to me forever.
Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, but I liked ending it there. Short, sweet, and to the point.
What did you all think? Will Marcus' presence help Dom see the truth? Will their second attempt end better than Bri getting shoved out into the cold? And what do you think about Bri finally seeing Marcus as a friend and confidante, instead of the enemy? Let me know!
Remember to leave a review on your way out! We're almost to 200 reviews, which would just make my entire year. Just saying. :)
