Author's Note: Okay, This Chapter is a little wonky… it changes tense after the asterisks… Most of you have noticed by now that certain characters write in both first and third person, some write in past tense, some in present tense… I have good reasons for it! But I was trying to avoid combining two tenses in the same chapter… but it just didn't work that way for Logan… He's to close to this specific situation to avoid using present tense, but he's too emotionally distant generally not to use past tense…
WHY do men have to be so difficult?
Anyway. Please view this as a useful literary device, and not carelessness… *big grin* 'Cause, I assure you, it's intended! (By the way, Part II of this chapter is coming soon… But I'm gonna need a break after this part… Meh! Heavy stuff!)
If you have a moment, I would love for you all to review! Was is too hackneyed? Too contrived? Or was a too flippant? Come on… Tell me what you think! Don't be shy!
Chapter 4: Part I: Necessary Evil
Three days.
I almost can't believe it's been so short a period of time.
She's only been gone three days.
I haven't gone this long without speaking to her practically since we've met. Even on the few days she isn't eating dinner here, or playing chess, or doing legwork for Eyes Only, I can always count on her to call. She usually checks in during lunch to confirm plans, to make sure I'm all right. Then, after work, if we have an engagement, she'll call ahead. She called once in the middle of the night… I was asleep, and she didn't leave a message, but the caller ID gave the number for her apartment and the time she called. Probably a nightmare that didn't seem as scary in the morning, so she didn't mention it…
But she hasn't called.
And I haven't seen her.
Three days.
It seems like years… Can I really be the same man I was a week ago? It doesn't seem possible… I feel like I'm dreaming. I want to be dreaming. None of this seems real…
It's probably not helping that I haven't slept more then two hours at a time since she--
…Since she-- Since I left her at Manticore.
Furiously, I type in more information on the Informant Net. Everything I've got worth knowing in my puny little head is here, in this computer. One virus, and I could be ruined… Thank God I've always had the foresight to back everything up. Otherwise I'd really be in trouble.
Dammit… I run a hand through my hair, and it comes away greasy. I look at it in disgust, When was the last time I showered? I don't remember. I don't particularly care, either.
It felt so good to kiss her like that. To know that I was kissing her, and she was kissing me back, and we had endless days to do the same thing over and over again until we got it just right.
"We have all the time in the world."
I should have known then we were doomed.
Then again, I think I did know, and that's exactly why I said it.
The kissing though, I keep thinking about kissing her… And it was even sweeter because I had felt so terrible only a few moments before. Those cervo motors going crazy… I wanted to find a hole in the ground, crawl in it, and die; I was that embarrassed. But she didn't care.
Just like I didn't care if she screwed another guy.
Hey, it made sense at the time. Who was I to disagree with a gorgeous woman who I love, and who loves me back, and who happened to be on the verge of tears as she told me about it? I couldn't be angry… She was angry enough at herself for me…
She must have felt so helpless… So impotent against the forces Manticore had set up against her.
So who am I to judge?
…Have I taken a shower?
I still can't remember… But I know I've changed my clothes. That much I can remember. And I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed my teeth for about a half an hour this morning…
But I never got into the shower…
I sit up, putting one foot in front of me, ready to rise, listening to the motors of my exoskeleton whirr. It's a pleasant sound, even thought it's mechanical and annoying.
…I could dance if I wanted to.
The precision of this machine is that good.
I could take her in my arms, and waltz with her as we laugh and talk… I could stroll with her down moonlit pathways… I could run away with her, I could keep up.
Then again, it's easy to keep up with a corpse.
I fling myself out of my chair and almost fall over with the force I use to propel myself. Suddenly filled with frantic, manic energy, I begin to pace. Somehow, it helps, even though I can't feel my legs under me completing the action my brain has detailed. The motion of the room around me helps a little, and I don't feel as…
What was I feeling again?
***
The phone rang.
I looked at it, uncomprehending.
It rang again.
Bling went out… Something about helping Lydecker with Krit and Syl…
It rang once more.
Finally, I picked it up.
"Hello?" I asked warily.
"Is this brutha rich-boy-sugar-daddy I'm talking to?" A voice exploded from the phone.
"Who is this?" I replied weakly, having expected anything to come out of the phone except for that sonorous barrage of words.
"If you don't know Original Cindy when you hear her—" But her voice trailed off, suddenly lacking conviction.
It's been three days.
Oh, God... She doesn't know.
"Cindy?" I asked, almost breathless with apprehension.
"Look," She barreled on, "I can understand you two being to busy going at it to mind a day without my boo checkin' in on her Original Cindy. Two days if y'all got an emergency that needs my boo doing that work o' yours, savin' this city. But three days is just asking too much, so now you've got to answer to Original Cindy. Now, where is my boo?"
"Cindy, where are you?" I asked.
I could practically feel her frowning, "Some of us need jobs." She retorted.
How am I going to tell her?
"Is someone you care about there?"
"Are you trippin'? What's all this abo—?"
"Is someone there??" I asked again, perhaps more forcefully then I should have.
"Yeah." She responded, her voice having suddenly gone quiet. On some level, she already knew what was coming.
"Tell them to come stand by you."
"Look, I don't know what yo—"
"Just do it." I whispered. I had done this so many times as Eyes Only… With every single early failure--when I had still known all my contacts personally, when I still had unlimited resources, when I still had my legs--there had been a phone call.
I was out of practice.
"Sketchy!" She shouted, and with the excellent resolution of the phone I used, I could hear Sketchy's voice approaching, {Yo! What's going on?} "Jus' stand over here, 'kay?" She ordered him, her voice already starting to shake. {Alright. Who's on the ph--?} "Don't ask Original Cindy that just yet. Just set your skinny white ass down right there and do what Original Cindy tells you to." She turned her attention back to the phone, "What is it?"
She must be terrified…
"After Max came over… She got involved in a situation with her siblings. She went to go help out… They went back to where she 'grew up'…" I was self-consciously aware of how easy it would be to tap this connection, "She—she didn't make it back."
"What do you mean, Max didn't make it back?" {Whoa, Max didn't make it back from where? Cindy? Cindy!?}
"She's—" I couldn't say it. God help me, I just couldn't say it… "She got shot, Cindy."
"Oh, god…" Her voice trembled pathetically, "Is she--?"
"She not coming back."
There was a resounding crack as the phone dropped and hit the wall.
{Whoa, Cindy… Hey… Hey! What happened-- Oh, jeez, Cindy--} I heard Sketchy's voice over the faint sound of Original Cindy's broken sobbing.
"No…" She must have been kneeling on the floor by that time, her head next to the phone swinging on its wire, because her voice was low and intimate but I heard it anyway.
The phone knocked against the wall again and I heard Sketchy's attempt to comfort Original Cindy, still out of range for a normal phone, but clear enough with my equipment.
{Shh… it's gonna be okay…}
Cindy's only response was a ragged sob.
Suddenly, I could hear breathing as someone picked up the phone, "Who is this?"
It was Sketchy speaking to me. I imagined him, holding his devastated friend with one arm, holding the phone to his ear with another.
"This is the hospital of Our Lady of Mercy." I lied easily, remembering a midtown hospital I once visited a friend at.
"What's the matter with Max?" He asked. That boy was a hell of a lot quicker then he let on…
"There was a motorcycle accident." I said, trying to keep my voice emotionless, as if I did this every day, "I was told to inform the family…"
"She's dead?" He asked hollowly.
{What in the fire truck in going on?} I faintly heard Normal's voice intrude.
Great. The gang's all here…
"I'm sorry, sir." I responded to Sketchy, not knowing what else to do but lie.
"I… Uh… sure."
{For the love of Mike! Will someone tell me--} Normal must've caught sight of Original Cindy and the look of shock on Sketchy's face. There was a brief pause before I heard him address the rest of the room, {Hey! Everyone stop gawking! This is a place of work! Time is money! Bip bip bip! Anderson, stop staring there with your mouth open, there's a hot run to 48 Euclid! Ringwald! I gave you a package minutes ago! Move it!} I guess there was some human being in there after all.
I wanted desperately to ask how Original Cindy was doing, but I didn't dare. I could only stay silent, hoping someone would put her back on. Instead, I heard Normal's voice, from right next to the phone, speaking to Sketchy, {You get her home. She can take a personal week—with pay. You have off the rest of the day, I'll give you time and a half for however long you stay with her. Now finish up your phone call and get her home before you attract the attention of the rest of these--} Normal drifted out of the range of the phone.
"Thanks…" A rather shell-shocked Sketchy said, more to the phone then to Normal from the way it sounded.
{Hey…} A weak voice intruded.
Jesus Christ, who else is it now?
I heard the phone being fumbled from Sketchy's hands, "Logan?" she asked hoarsely.
{Logan!?} Sketchy had been reduced to background again.
"I'm still here for you, Cindy."
{What the hell—? What's he doing at the hospital…?}
"You all right?" Her sniffles punctuated the remark.
I chose not to answer, "Get yourself home, Cindy. I'll call you in a few days."
"Don't give me that—" She had to be really distressed, to be speaking in first person. Abruptly, she sighed, "Whatever. Look," She was interrupted by a hiccup and a shuddering breath; I had no idea how she was doing this, keeping herself on her feet long enough to talk further. I don't know if I could—" I know we ain't always been friends, but if you ever need anything," There was a pause, and I could practically taste the blood in her mouth as she literally bit back a sob, "Original Cindy's got yo' back, aiight?"
"Thank-you…" I whispered. Max knew how to pick them, I had to give her credit for that. She might have left us all alone, no way to deal without her, but she knew how to pick the ones who would survive without her anyway. Even falling apart, even only having Max as common ground—"Let Sketchy get you home, Cindy. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah… Yeah." She repeated, sounding dazed.
She was so confused she forgot to say goodbye before she hung up the phone.
As for me, I could only sit there and stare at the phone for long minutes before I remembered to put it down.
Someplace in me there is perfect silence… And I can feel myself falling further and further into it... Into a darkness so perfect that it is blinding white, into a silence so complete it roars in my ears, into a numbness so absolute that it is a fire raging through me…
Inside the barrel of a Glock.
Perfect Silence…
(…I could join you…)