Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
By
E. S. Young
Chapter Eleven: Playing the Game
Not to sound arrogant or anything, but so far everyone's been in character, don't ya think? Except Zebbidy. She's doesn't seem like herself – not to ME, anyway. My one IZ story 'Open Up Your Mind' give a much better interpretation of her. I thought so, anyway. Meh, maybe it's just cuz of the situation she's in. Or the fact that I'm trying not to turn her into a Mary Sue (which probably explains why I haven't written anything about her being attractive or even pretty cuz, in her stories, everyone comments about her appearance). And I'm worried about Sands too. Is he coming off okay? I don't think he's being OOC just . . . noninvolved, y'know? I dunno. It's probably me but y'never know . . .
Confusion was never fun. Unless, of course, you were the person standing off on the sidelines watching someone else be confused. Now THAT was . . . well, it was a real bundle of laughs. But being the one who was confused just sucked. Royally. And it was never welcome when one didn't know where they were. Such was the case of Lynné. She didn't know where she was.
Correction, she had several clues, but all were vague. One was the sound of chimes and guitars that surrounded her, engulfing her in their music. Another was the way her feet sounded as they thudded against the ground. They scrapped and scratched along, letting her know that the ground beneath her was rough and probably thick with dust. The last clue was the clearest of the three. Arid fog clouded the air, filling it with humidity and making it hard to breathe. All around her the air was thick with heat.
'Nowhere else is this hot . . .' Lyn thought tiredly.
Sure they are, the voice said brightly, making Lyn's head pound with its uncanny cheerfulness.
'Okay, but nowhere else do they have dust like this. My throat's coated with the shit and I can't feel my tongue . . .'
That's okay, the voice assured her, S'not like you've been using it all that much if you catch my drift.
'If this is about my sex life again, ba --'
I never said it was, the voice reminded her innocently.
Lyn had been thrown from a building, stumbled, and landed in the dirt seconds later. She had managed to push herself up, and, with some difficulty, she had gotten herself standing. And now, she was walking, or rather hobbling down the dusty roads of what she assumed was some town in Mexico.
And you're assuming this because . . . ?
Lyn hissed through her teeth as she ran headlong into a wall.
'I'm blind, you fucking imaginary lunatic, what the hell did you think?'
'This . . . this isn't right,' she panted a moment later, sore and tired from running into so many unseen objects. 'I just . . . what the hell is going on . . . ?'
Easy, girl, the voice consoled her, You're just not used to guilt, that's all.
'What the hell? What do I have to feel guilty about?'
Wellll . . . being short with that kid an' all . . .
'I didn't feel guilty about that,' Lyn told it plainly.
Well, had you done it before last November, I'm sure you wouldn't have felt any remorse, but now . . .
'You're saying that because I told off some kid I've grown emotions? That is the biggest line of shit if I ever heard one – you actually expect me to believe that?'
No, it said simply, I'm just . . . voicing my opinion. . . . heh.
"Sick . . ." Lyn murmured, shaking her head, "Fucking twisted . . ."
"Mademoiselle?"
"Oh, Jesus . . ." Lyn sighed, recognizing the voice right away, "this isn't my day . . . . or night . . . kinda hard to tell . . ."
"Que?" (What?)
"Nothing," she answered offhandedly, "Listen, kid, I need you to tell me where we are."
"Vous ne savez pas?" (Don't you know?)
"No," Lyn replied more than a little irritated. "That's why I asked."
"J'ai cru que je n'ai pas été censé parler aux étrangers.," (I thought I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers,) the little girl reminded her.
"I'm a cop, all right? Now where are we?"
"Je n'ai jamais entendu d'un flic aveugle auparavant," (I've never heard of a blind cop before,) the girl commented wryly.
"Little fucker – OWW!!" Lyn cried when a sudden pain erupted in her right shin. She had kicked her . . . the little brat had actually kicked her!
You gonna let her get away with that? the voice asked, bored.
'No fucking way.'
In one quick movement, Lyn's arms had shot out and grabbed the little girl by the shoulders. Her eyebrows narrowed fiercely, and when she spoke her voice was cold and deadly.
"I'm only gonna say this once, so you listen, and you listen good, kid. I don't know where I am, and I wouldn't doubt it if I'm being shadowed – "
"Que?" (What?) the girl interrupted, confused.
"Followed. It wouldn't surprise me if I'm being followed. But I can't exactly tell, as you already know. So I need you to tell me where I am so I can get the hell out of here, comprenez?"
"Mademoiselle, si vous voulez savoir où vous êtes, enlève vos verres," (Miss, if you wish to know where you are, take off your glasses,) she told her.
"What?"
Lyn heard the little girl sigh in exasperation. A second later, she felt something slid past her ears, down the bridge of her nose, and then off her face completely. All at once, she could see again and she almost kicked herself for being so . . . well, blind.
She looked down, intending to thank the kid, but stopped dead where she was. Caught in a summer wind. the child's pale curls were swirling about her, veiling her face. But when the wind finally died, everything was reviled.
Gaping bloody sockets and all.
"Lynné . . . ? Lynné . . . ! C'mon, you're starting to worry me, here."
"You're always worried, Fusco, I just usually the cause of it."
"Lynné?"
"YES," his partner stressed, "What IS it, Liam?"
"I," he began as Lyn pushed herself up on her elbows. "I . . . I woke up."
Lyn nodded slowly, pretending to contemplate.
"Okaaay . . . and then I'm guessing you passed my room, saw me laying there – bathed in the moonlight – and just couldn't take your eyes off of yours truly."
"Umm, no, no . . . not exactly," Liam stammered, wringing his hands nervously.
Lyn muttered sarcastically, "Well, there goes all of my self-confidence."
"Erm, I couldn't sleep," Liam explained, "So I, uh, I got up . . ."
Lyn gave her slow nod once again as she stared up at him with dark eyes that saw everything.
"And I, uh, I started to walk down the hall – y'know, I wanted to go downstairs – and then I, uh, I saw you."
"And you saw me laying there – bathed in the moonlight – and you just couldn't take your eyes off of me, right?"
Liam shook his head back and forth. "No . . ."
"Damn . . . Well, what DID stop you, Liam?"
"Well, uhh, you looked sort of . . . pained? Sort of like you wanted to scream but couldn't, I dunno. But I wanted to see if I could help." He shrugged.
"Word of advice, Liam: Don't try to help me. It'd just be a waste of your time."
"Yeah, yeah," he replied hastily, "I, uh, I know . . ."
Lyn sighed.
"Damiano's getting restless, Liam, isn't he?"
Her partner looked up at her in surprise.
"Our hit man?"
She nodded.
"What brought him up?" Liam asked curiously.
"Nothing much, I was just thinking about it. He's not gonna wait much longer. Sooner or later he'll be wanting his payment, impatient bastard that he is, and if he doesn't get it . . ."
"He'll walk out on us," Liam finished. "But we're CIA, can't we just dig up some dirt on the guy and use it against him?"
"We could," Lyn said reasonably, "but he could always go straight to the Poissons and rat us out. Tell 'em that we're going to bring their whole family down and that he's been given the job of killing ol' Edouard Poisson himself." She sighed tiredly. "That's the problem with people, Liam."
"What's the problem?"
"Trusting them," she answered simply.
"What . . . what's wrong with that?" Liam wondered, bewildered.
Lyn gave him one of her false, unfeeling smiles.
"You can't."
"We have to take a cab? What's wrong with the SUV?"
"A big blue vehicle isn't exactly what you'd call inconspicuous, don't ya think?" Lyn replied.
"Yes," Zebbidy sighed in exasperation, "But . . .can you blame me for not wanting to take a taxi? They're –"
"Icky? Disgusting? Revolting? Call them whatever you like, dear, and I'll agree with you, but we're still taking a cab. Now get ready. It'll be at the edge of Paris in fifteen. We've got some walking to do."
Zebbidy rolled her eyes but obeyed. Once the woman had disappeared up the stairs, Liam took (or maybe he jumped . . . ?) at the opportunity to speak with Lyn.
"Am I going with you or what?"
When she blinked up at the much taller man, a hint of surprise lingered in her eyes.
You were expecting him to say something else?
'I . . . don't know . . .'
Hmm . . . he sounded eager, but maybe it's just me.
'It's you.'
"Oh, you can stay here if you want," Lyn said carelessly. "You and Sands can do guy . . . things. Y'know . . . chill."
Liam shook his head, ignoring her poor use of Ebonics.
"Sands isn't here."
This earned him a raised eyebrow and an intrigued look of surprise from Lyn.
"Really?" Lynné pried calmly.
"Yeah, he left a while ago. I don't know where he went," Liam added a little too quickly for Lyn's liking.
"Hmm . . ." she murmured, tapping a finger against her lips and eyeing him with disbelief.
"I don't," Liam assured her, holding his hands up in defense.
Before Lynné could contradict anything, Zebbidy reappeared at the top of the stairs.
"You don't what?" she wanted to know as she sailed down the steps with ease.
"Know where my darling brother is," Lynné informed her offhandedly. "Goddamn asshole does this all the time."
"Who? Sands or Liam?"
"Both," Liam answered somewhat sheepishly.
"Take your pick," Lyn said at the same time.
They both glanced at each other, Lyn with her eyebrows arched, Liam looking startled. Zebbidy stared between the two but said nothing.
"You can't still be taking me sight seeing," Zebbidy said to Lyn as they trudged down the road. The ancient buildings of Paris loomed in the distance just out of their reach. Lynné shook her head at Zebbidy's comment.
"Nope, that's what I'm doing."
"Oh? I would've thought you would've gone out of your way to keep me hidden. You're just throwing me out in the open by doing this." Expanding her arms Zebbidy spun slowly and gracefully, gesturing to the world around them.
"Oh!" Lyn suddenly cried theatrically. "All right, all right . . . I confess – I didn't want to, but you ripped it out of me, Zebbidy Samhain."
Halting where she stood, Zebbidy slowly turned to give the agent a
"You're bait," Lyn told her sadly, "That's all you are. Just a pawn in the game of chess. We're all playing it. We're white; they're black. We're the cops; they're the robbers. All of us are playing Cowboys and Indians and YOU'RE the one who's going to lure those no good savages out of their ivory towers."
When the other woman gaped at her, Lyn had to fight the mad desire to laugh. She looked so funny like that – and laughing wild was something she hadn't done in a long time. But Lynné kept her head level, as usual, and made sure she had a strong hold on her composure while she was at it.
"So I'm bait," Zebbidy said at last. "And you're going to just . . . TOSS me out into the open and hope that the Poissons are tempted out of hiding. THAT'S the CIA's plan." She started around her nodding her head in one rhythmic movement, looking utterly stunned.
"That's genius. Genius, y'know," she said to Lynné, nearly choking on her words. "Yeah, y'know, I can really see why the 'I' stands for intelligence. Good gods . . ."
"Yeah, well, you had to learn some day, sugar," Lyn said with a shrug, completely unmoved at how flustered the woman next to her was.
"But this late in the game!?" Zebbidy demanded, outraged.
Lyn smirked, "So you admit that it's a game?"
Her rhetorical question was met with a stare that seemed to last seconds for Lynné and go on for hours for Zebbidy. But the time that passed gave the latter time to pull herself back together at least. Taking in several deep breaths, Zebbidy lifted her eyes and glared determinedly at the CIA agent.
"Yes," she admitted curtly, "I'll agree that I'm stuck in a game."
"I know that you didn't wanna get involved, but you didn't have a choice," Lyn said, trying, to Zebbidy, to sound understanding. She didn't seem to be trying very hard, however.
"The Poisson Mob decided to go after you and once a Mafia family makes a decision it is very rare if they choose to go back on it."
Zebbidy bowed her head letting her auburn hair slip past her ears and curtain her face. It worked as a decent shield, but Lynné liked people to look at her when she was talking to them.
"I guess I don't blame you," Zebbidy whispered softly. "Your agency wants this to end as quickly as I do . . ." She lifted her face to the graying sky, letting out a long, low breath. Her eyes remained closed the entire time she spoke. ". . . and the only way to do that is to give them me . . ."
"Them's the breaks, darling," Lyn said, smiling tiredly. "So are you ready?"
"Ready," Zebbidy told her, beginning to walk again. "Not willing, but ready."
"Why did you tell me?" she asked once Lyn had caught up. The other woman shrugged carelessly.
"Quite frankly, because when you asked why we were going sight seeing when being out in the open is one of the LAST things YOU should be doing . . . I couldn't think of any kind of response other than . . . the truth." She flashed her a frosty grin again. "Hit ya kinda hard, didn't it?"
"A little," Zebbidy admitted, nodding, "Although after learning not to trust the government years ago, I should've suspected it."
"You don't trust the government?" Lyn asked, still grinning.
Zebbidy shook her head, staring at Lynné curiously. Her green eyes widened with confusion when the agent gave a short laugh, looking truly amused for the first time since Zebbidy met her.
"Join the club, Zeb, population: You, me, Liam, my dear brother, and about . . . five percent of the United States."
They continued the rest of their short journey without talking. Birds twittered in every direction without a care in the world. The trees around them swayed in the light breeze, their branches clacking together softly.
"So . . . how will we know when the game is over?" Zebbidy asked quietly.
It took Lyn all but fifteen seconds to answer, but it seemed like a lifetime to Zebbidy.
"When somebody finally says checkmate."
Plunged deep into her own musings, Zebbidy leaned back into the springy blue cushions of the taxicab, barely aware of Lynné as she slid into the seat next to her.
'Well, as far as cabs go, this one isn't half bad. Least it doesn't have the sweaty old man smell.'
"The Louvre Museum, thanks" Lyn told the driver, crossing her legs and placing her hands atop them.
"Que?" (What?) asked the driver.
"The Louvre," she repeated, fishing through her purse.
The driver shook his head at her.
"Que?" he asked again.
This time his question earned him a glare.
"This is the only thing I don't like about France," she muttered to Zebbidy, "About 90 of the population speaks English yet only 15 uses it. And an even larger majority acts like they can't understand you."
"And shouldn't this guy know what you're talking about anyway?" Zebbidy whispered back. "The Louvre is a popular museum, isn't it?"
"Mmm, especially for touristes," Lyn replied nodding.
"Les dames, aujourd'hui, si vous ne vous opposez pas," (Ladies, today, if you don't mind,) their driver snapped, visibly irritated. To Lyn he sounded like the French equivalent of the stereotypical New York taxi driver.
'To speak French, or not to speak French,' Lyn sighed mentally.
Keep up the Shakespeare and your questions will come to an abrupt stop. Just speak the language; your employers --
'CONTACTS or CLIENTS. I don't have employers.'
Fine, fiiiine . . . your CLIENTS aren't going to wait forever.
'True, impatient CIA dolts . . .'
So just use your French and get your ass over there before they leave. You don't wanna get thrown away again, do you?
'No. I don't have enough cash to risk that. Not yet.'
Thaaaat's right . . . Now tell the man – in French – where you want to go.
'But I'll be blowing my cover if I do that,' Lyn whined, making sure to sound extra nasally.
Oh my Christ – he's a fucking CAB driver for God's sake! Big deal!
"Nous voudrions aller au Musée de Louvre, s'il vous plaît." (We'd like to go to the Louvre Museum, please.) After saying this, Zebbidy resumed her hobby of staring out the window but really seeing nothing.
"Finalement . . ." (Finally . . .) the cab driver muttered.
Lynné made a mental reminder to thank Zebbidy once they got to the museum. Although the thought slipping her mind would be more likely to happen than Zebbidy receiving any thanks from Lynné. Lyn shrugged it off. She was a stubborn, cocky bitch. Thanking people just didn't swing with her.
Her gaze shifted to the driver. He was stationed directly in front of her, but that didn't mean she couldn't make out his face. Offering a silent thanks to whoever invented rearview mirrors, Lyn absorbed the man who would be chauffeuring them for a while. He looked a little bulky, but Lyn imagined that if he took off his jacket she would think otherwise. He had blonde hair that was lighter than Liam's but cut in the style the agent used to sport before Lynné had met him. An old fashioned fedora had been placed on top of his head, covering up whatever hair he may have had underneath.
'Ohhh, let's say he's bald. What the hell.'
The driver also had an equally blonde moustache that was so bushy it made Liam's look like he had drawn his on with eyebrow pencil.
'Eh. Probably fake, how much do I wanna bet . . . ?'
The only thing she couldn't observe were the man's eyes. Lyn found herself almost wishing she could see them now. After her brother had been blinded in Mexico a person's eyes had become very important to her. She was nearly yearning for this man's orbs because of what that damn cartel leader had done, but she could not see them. They were hidden from her behind dark shades.
Beside Lynné, Zebbidy's nose was going haywire. The thing kept twitching, driving Lynné up a wall and probably the driver too, if he had noticed. However, Lyn decided to be polite and not mention anything.
'Gods, it's almost September, so that's almost two months and no visions . . .' Zebbidy sighed to herself. Then all at once, her relief seemed to fade. 'Something's up. I don't just NOT See anything . . . '
She narrowed her eyes at the back of the navy blue passenger's seat. Two months . . . something was definitely wrong. Zebbidy wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold even though the vehicle's temperature was quite comfortable. She was getting another one of her feelings, women's intuition some would call it, but Zebbidy knew better.
'Greaaaat . . . a seizure on the way to the museum. That is JUST what I need.'
Okay, I know how that seems like it didn't have any Sands in it, but I will prove that it did. Only problem is, that probably won't happen 'til Monday. Tuesday at the latest. But rest assured that he IS in the next chapter. Just let me know if I'm putting him in this enough or not enough. Any suggestions are much appreciated.
Author's Thanks and Review Responses:
vanillafluffy: lol, actually, I had originally intended to have the little girl working for Poisson. Funny that. O.o
DragonHunter200: Heh, Sands knows how nasty Lynné can really become when she's angry, so he doesn't want to provoke her. Not sure where the graveyard scene came from, to tell ya the truth. Lyn (as well as everyone else) has a lot on her mind, so I think she figured that the only way to get it out, so to speak, was to . . . converse with her mom . . . ? I dunno. But it's good to hear that you liked the scene, at least. And the little girl as well since there's gonna be more of her in chapters to come. :)
Dawnie-7: Yeah, Lyn's feeling a little bad about the kid too, obviously. (motions above, indicating the chapter) But don't feel bad for encouraging Lyn's smart mouthed remarks. She can't help her self, plus you couldn't've known since I didn't think of making the kid blind until about an hour before I posted the last chapter. o.o'
morph: lol, Sands and Jack are always at each other's throats. Mostly cuz Sands tends to insult everyone with quick remarks but Jack can think up retorts just as fast. I'm thinking of selling tickets to their next brawl – no weapons, just words! – but maybe not. Thanks for adding this to your favorites list, by the way! I appreciate it muchly! :D
o