Author's Notes: Kat's history ended up longer than I'd originally thought it would. I couldn't fit everything I'd intended for chapter three into one chapter so I've decided to cut it in half and make the necessary adjustments. If you all end up flabbergasted because of the ending, please refrain from prodding me to death with pitchforks ( or any kind of forks, for that matter. they're pointy and they hurt. =P ), atleast until you've read chapter four. Other than that, flames / reviews / constructive criticism are more than welcome!
Spoiler alert: A really tiny one, but I thought I'd mention it anyway, to be extra careful.
Many Thanks to: Jenn for contributing sunshine and apple pie. * big huuug *
Disclaimer: I own only two characters in this fic. You've already met Julian, and kudos to anyone who can figure out where Charles Roy got his name. * grins enigmatically *
Fade To Black
Chapter Three
* ~ *
Kat lifted her chin. She turned her eyes heavenward to a spot just above the neighborhood roofs. The sky was tailored a deep midnight blue to match the late hour and there weren't any stars. There weren't any clouds, either. The moon, a pale orb of cracked silver, hung listless in its solitude.
Sprawled all over an unkept lawn across the street, soft tufts of bermuda grass rustled softly in time to the blowing wind ( restless ). The corner lamp post flickered non-stop in undecided spurts ( quietly disturbing ) while farther off in the direction of the city, headlights of cars winked blatantly from the freeway ( satisfyingly insignificant ). There was a term for all these little details swimming before her eyes, like tadpoles in a pond; tiny, but noticeable in their constant, wriggling movements and far too real to be denied of existence.
Kat settled down on the sidewalk, just outside her house and stretched her legs out infront of her, limbs on the road, sneakers on hardened tar, knapsack by her side. She leaned back and winced as her elbows scraped lightly against rough concrete.
Wrong, she thought. The word she was looking for was wrong', and the feel of it was unnerving. Kat sighed and wished for a distraction, despite the lack of morning stars to wish on.
She'd discovered some time ago that a distraction was somewhat the next best thing, when all you really wanted to do was forget.
*
Charles Roy has been known to spend half the day behind shut eyelids, presumably asleep. Doctors puzzle over how a little girl, a non-relative no less, can time her visits to match his waking hours with such surprising accuracy. It is uncanny. The minute she steps into his room, Charles brightens visibly and is always very much awake, each time.
Today is no exception.
hello, it's me again. how are you? still sick, of course, or you wouldn't be here. silliness.
Kat walks over to his bed and takes a seat on the springy mattress. A mop of messy, grey hair tops a wrinkled forehead while the rest of his face is creased in age, with lines softened by mirth. His gaze is as intelligent as it is sightless and between pursed lips, he hums a few mellow notes to himself.
that song again... you love it so much. without lyrics, or direction, abstract and everywhere all at once, its melody is tuneless. but it makes you smile. i make you smile. i'm the song, aren't i? what a funny thought.
Kat? Kat, is that you? I thought I heard you come in, he begins, glad as always to have you here, my snow princess, but do shed that frosty look.
what look? the one you can't see? and am i really that cold? Kat wants to add, not a princess, though, and definitely not yours,' but refrains from doing so. It isn't polite to contradict elders.
You can be quite cold, I've heard. The nurse told me about the incident in the corridor yesterday. It involved yourself, a kindly old lady and a bag of candy. The story kept me busy... I should say entertained, while she-- Charles pauses briefly to cough hard into one fist.
coughing again? poor charles, so sick. you sound dry, like... autumn leaves. golden autumn leaves, and red ones, and orange ones, and yellow ones...
How about the murky brown ones?
let's stick to the leaves with nice colours... oh, but they crackle when crushed under rubber boots. you cough like they crackle, charles.
Why, thank you.
about the story, now. it distracted you while she--
--stuck a needle into my arm and stole my blood. The cough turns into a coarse, hacking sort of laugh but Kat remains grave and unamused.
not leaves anymore, charles, branches. boughs of trees, cut in half by a noisy chain saw. i like you better when you cough. it sounds nicer, like fall.
the season.
You have a lovely imagination.
The corners of her mouth begin to twitch in the faintest hint of a frown, prompting a toothy grin from Charles. Kat is impatient. He presses on, Anyway, you were offered some candy but you didn't take it. You just looked at the woman quietly, without saying a word, until she left.
candy... an entire bag, and she was giving it away. they could have been sweet, could've been sour, but from the hand of a...
Grandmother? What exactly is it that you have against old people like myself?
...stranger. that's what she was, so i didn't take the candy. also, staying quiet seemed like the smart thing to do.
Oh, you certainly weren't dumb about it. Quite the contrary, m'dear, but then being smart doesn't always mean being right. Tell me, why don't you accept candy from strangers? Charles inquires.
because mommy said so. The words tumble out of her mouth without hesitation. Instant and automatic, they fall flat like a bad joke told at the wrong time. The tone in her voice is akin to monotony, while the line itself sounds as if it has been drilled into her head more than once; a philosophy forced upon her mind countless times only to be rebelled against, naturally. Kat is aware, they both are, that she had a different reason for turning down the candy, but she says nothing.
You always listen to what your mother tells you?
( you make this complicated, charles. you give me choices, you make me think. i could say no', go with the truth and be bad in your eyes... but i could say yes' and tell you what you want to hear, lie but make you happy... keep you happy... there, that's the important thing. )
yes.
( smile for my lie, charles. )
Your mother also said not to come here, didn't she? She doesn't approve of, well... this, Charles puts emphasis on the last word. He then gestures at everything around them, from the bedside table on which a bowl of chicken soup gone cold remains untouched, to a corner where assorted bouquets lie forgotten. All dried petals, fallen leaves, cards of scripted well-wishing and insincerity ( get well soon! we miss you because we have to! signed, The Obliged ) in red ink. His hand seems to linger for a moment, his entire expression clouding over, as he gazes blindly at the flowers. But before Kat can comment on it, Charles ends the sweeping motion, making it clear that Kat's presence in his room will not please her mother.
... and yet, here you are, he adds, exposing her lie.
Charles waits patiently to see how she will respond. Rarely is the truth shoved straight into the face of an eleven-year old, raw and without any of the gentle mollycoddle nonsense most people insist on coating it with. He does not treat Kat like a child. Something in the way she remains upright and unaffected by his words suggests to him that she isn't one, and hasn't been for some time now. Her voice, strangely sedate, harbours neither guilt nor shame for her dishonesty.
Impressive.
mommy doesn't like it when i come to see you.
he states calmly, she does not.
she told you? did she come here and tell you to send me back to... Kat seems to reconsider her words and ends with, ...so you knew... instead.
Not at all. Or atleast, not until you confirmed it. I didn't know, I felt. Taking a chance on that feeling, intuition' it's called, I guessed.
you stupid man.
But obviously, from the way you're reacting, you knew all along. Your mother must not be very happy with your... tendency to disobey her, Charles observes as he leans back against thin pillows.
you stupidstupidstupid man. what do you know about happiness? nothing!
Sitting very still does little to help Kat's growing agitation. Her legs don't quite reach the floor, so she swings them back and forth, the momentum causing one of her loosely-fitted sandals to slip off her foot. It falls to the ground with an audible clack' but she does not apologize for the sound. She doesn't have to, so she won't.
you go out of your way to ruin things! you make yourself miserable!
I'm not the one throwing a fit. Kat gets off the bed, walks to the window and opens it, letting in the frigid air.
this is what you're like, charles. the wind. hard and fast and freezing and furious and biting cold. i hate it. you know so many things but you keep them all to yourself... why? it's all a game to you.
Learn to play along, then. It's as simple as that.
no it isn't.
You're a natural. I can tell. You'll learn to play along in time, trust me...
i won't.
... you don't have a choice.
you weren't this way last week.
I wasn't? Kat doesn't turn around, what makes you say that?
we were here to see daddy, the three of us. mommy carried julian and i was walking next to her... quickly... so quickly, because mommy was in a hurry. quick, quick, quick, left foot, right foot, trip, get scolded, keep walking... and we passed your door.
I remember, and this time, Kat glances over her shoulder at him, but please. Go on.
it was open. you were inside, lying on a narrow bed, smiling. you showed so much teeth, sparkling and white... and i couldn't see how sick people could be so... friendly. how unlike daddy of you. he doesn't smile anymore. you still do, but you don't mean it.
Maybe I never did.
Kat nods exactly once. She wants to keep right on talking, she wants to keep explaining things and pointing out reasons, she wants to justify her actions and defend all that she is. She wants to feel as if she has the entire world hidden away, contained under her skin like Charles with his secrets, and she can let it all out if she so chooses.
She does.
daddy was in the first room, on the first floor. when we arrived, he saw us and i could tell he thought everything was going to turn out fine, now that we were there. i thought so too, until i saw something else... a pill. a bright, blue pill, like a jellybean but bitter, on his lunch tray... his medicine.
He hadn't taken his medicine that afternoon, Charles says dreamily, fascinated by Kat's ability to relay such events in the deadened tone she'd used on him earlier, when she'd lied. She conceals all the sadness he knows is in there somewhere, sadness that no child should be made to experience.
when mommy found out... she got mad. angry, like a storm, but angrier. fiercer. to keep her from loosing her temper, i leaned over to kiss daddy on the cheek, hoping she would do the same. he was hot, like a boiling kettle... the fever was burning him...
And I bet kissing your father didn't keep your mother from telling him off.
i could have stopped her from shouting. i could have pushed mommy away from daddy's bed, and daddy would have calmed down on his own.
Then why didn't you?
because of julian.
Your brother? He's five years old, how could he have anything to do with anything?
someone had to take care of him. mommy was too busy being angry, she didn't notice that julian was crying. he was crying because of a stupid, blue pill. his tears were... Kat trails off.
Julian had cried, she remembers, and his tears had been like crystals, but colder than ice. She remembers thinking they didn't suit the little boy as she took him from their mother, settling him gently into her shaky arms, determined not to drop him despite the uncertainty of her embrace. She remembers holding him close, then closer still because he was shivering. Kat remembers wanting to warm her brother, remembers whispering...
this isn't real, julian, this isn't real. go to sleep and dream of warmth, of quilts and apple pie and sunshine. when you wake up, everything will be okay. Kat doesn't look at Charles when she adds, i promised him that everything would be okay.
And did your brother fall asleep?
he did. he's sleeping right now, in daddy's room. mommy insisted on visiting daddy again. she insists on visiting him everyday... that's how i met you. i was able to slip away last thursday, while mommy was having lunch, and i found your room.
You gave me an apple. You'd brought it for your father, but he didn't want it.
it would have been good for him, but he's stubborn... stubborn is all he's ever been, all i've ever known him to be. he digs himself a grave, he does... and do you know what else, charles?
i won't end up like him. like you. weak, kept in hospitals, waiting for your bodies to fall dead so that people who don't even care about you can throw you into holes and bury you in the soil. i won't end up like that. i'll be strong.
I'm sure you will... you'll need to be. You'll need it for the Matrix. Do you know what that is?
no.
I'd only be putting your life in danger if I tell you now. It's what landed me on this bed in the first place... but don't worry. You'll find out soon enough. When you do, I want you to remember that the Matrix isn't real. Remember that. Kat watches Charles and doesn't reply; she thinks he has lost his mind.
You should go to Julian, now. He might need you.
Without another word, she leaves, forgetting to shut both the window and the door on her way out. The minute he can no longer hear her footsteps echoing down the hallway, Charles closes his eyes and falls asleep.
He will not wake up.
One hour later in room 101, Kat's father does the same thing. When the doctor informs his family of his death, Julian goes rigid where he stands. Marie falls to her knees, bends over, huddles in a shuddering heap on the floor and sobs uncontrollably. Kat picks her brother up and rocks him back and forth, mumbling soothing words as he buries his face in her neck, devoting all her attention to his fragile form.
With their dark hair a vivid contrast to the hospital's whitewashed walls, the scene is an old-style photograph: black and white and tones of grey, glossed over with grief, creased in the edges and weathered by time. From the other side of the picture frame, Kat surveys it all; outside-looking in, hardening her heart and crowding her thoughts with images of Julian, rainfall and autumn leaves.
She has learned that distraction is somewhat the next best thing, when all you really want to do is forget.
*
What are you doing out here?
Kat wasn't in the mood to play Dodge The Question with her brother. Not tonight. She swivelled in her seat and decided to break it to him, as quickly as she possibly could.
Star gazing, she answered evenly. Kat sensed him freeze behind her and she knew he hadn't even bothered to check if the sky was clear. He didn't need to.
As a rule, Kat's lies were never crafted with the intention of being found out. It was one of her games, one of the small holds she had over reality; the ability to manipulate truth. She was good at it, too. This lie, however, had been given away in such a glaring fashion that it unhinged Julian for just a second, long enough for him to realise that something was up.
In a matter of quick, deliberate steps, he had crossed the driveway and was standing next to her. On an impulse, the toe of his foot moved up to nudge the flimsy pack Kat had propped up against her side. It fell to the ground easily. Julian paled.
Those felt like clothes, he informed her. Kat averted her gaze.
They should. They are.
You're running away. Kat could detect nothing other than vacancy in his voice. He was refusing to believe her.
I'm leaving for a month, at the most. I'll be back. She pitched her tone to a certain level of finality, in an attempt to counter Julian's denial. It worked. Kat took a deep breath and Julian drew in a ragged one.
His voice began to crack with increasing panic, ...this has something to do with you walking home today, doesn't it? You got kicked off the bus... something must have happened, you wouldn't tell me why you got kicked off and now... it's this. It's this... it's this... goddammit! Does mom even know?
Kat couldn't help herself; she smirked. Sarcasm was written all over her face, etched into the one-sided, upward curl of her lips, evident in the slight narrow of her eyes.
Mom knows I'm leaving tonight, but she decided to work the late shift anyway. It was absurd.
Fucking hell.
Watch your mouth, Kat warned, all traces of sardonic humour gone in an instant.
Like you do.
At the sound of the third voice, Julian and Kat turned as one. A young man stood atleast three feet away down the street, dressed from head to toe in black. He looked as if he'd emerged from the shadows, with eyes glinting on a face that was distinctly Asian and subtly handsome. He walked up to them with practised ease.
Kat stiffened and got up, positioning herself at a certain angle to Julian. The man ( he couldn't have been more than a few years older than her, probably around eighteen ) caught her move and a small grin found its way onto his otherwise guarded expression. Kat's attempt at putting herself protectively in between this intruder and her brother had not gone unnoticed.
He seemed to approve of it.
I'm here, as was promised... Trinity? That's the name you gave Niobe, isn't it?
Kat answered him with a curt nod. Julian gaped openly.
Are you Morpheus? she asked. When he held out his hand, Kat shook it. He had a strong, firm grip.
You'll meet Morpheus later. I'm called Ghost.
* ~ *
