Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
By
E. S. Young
Chapter Thirty-One: The Basis of Life
Remember that play Lyn's always quoting? Laughing Wild by Christopher Durang. I've said it once, I'll say it again: Go – out – and – read – it! I cannot stress that enough. It's a great monologue and I'm so grateful to have been able to perform it for speech league last year. Breathing has always struck me as interesting – it's such a simple act and yet so very important; we take it for granted, really – but that bit from LW just sums up what I've always believed. That's why it was so neat to learn that one of Mr. Johnny Depp's favorite pastimes is breathing. :)
VVV
Lynn's leg was gone. Simple as that. She was never one to beat around the bush and had always hated people who did. Instead of being straightforward with her, they – colleagues, associates, contacts – would sputter and cough, anything instead of telling her what was on their mind. That was why, Lynné figured, she was always truthful. . . . as truthful as she could be without leaking too much information. Or, in the cases where she had to lie (which were frequent), she still refused hesitation. Get in, get out; that was the plan, that was what she always did.
Yeah, but isn't it kinda hard when you have one fucking LEG
Yes, she agreed tonelessly. It is.
Smooth, girl, the voice chided with restrained fury. That's reeeal fuckin' smooth.
"Mademoiselle, vous êtes éveillés?" (Miss, are you awake?) a young voice asked tentatively.
Oh Christ . . . not now, kid. I don't need this . . .
Just tell her to piss off again. She listened to you the first time.
Yeah, but she probably knows something's wrong, fuckin' Miss Cleo wannabe that she is.
"Mademoiselle?" The kid was trying to be quiet, Lynné could tell by how constricted her voice sounded. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that the child was struggling with her conscience. From the sound of things, Joséphine was torn. The girl's immediate instincts were insisting that she rush over and try to aid Lynné while her mind held her back, warning her that she would do well to stay where she was and not go anywhere near the crazy American woman.
Gotta give her props for caring. Most kids her age put themselves first.
Like you?
Hell yes. I may have been a naïve little brat, but I wasn't stupid.
Mmm, the voice murmured quietly. Are you ever gonna answer her?
No, Lyn replied bluntly. If I don't, she'll think I'm asleep or at least know that I'm ignoring her. Whatever the case, when she doesn't get what she wants, she'll leave. She'll be huffy about it, but she'll still leave, and that's what matters.
Don't know if that's gonna work, Lynnie. Really, I don't have much confidence in you after what happened. You just fucking turned around – Christ, you had a goddamn warning – and yet you let those bastards whack ya anyway! What the hell is wrong with you!? Jesus H. Christ, Lynné, I thought you would have learned by now to WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE GOING!
I got away, didn't I? Lynné thought coolly.
Only because Liam got your ass out of there, it reminded her venomously. But not, of course, before Poisson got a little momento.
Lynné could still feel Joséphine's eyes on her but she ignored the child's worried gaze and pushed the voice's furious rants to the back of her mind. Slowly, the world around her became clearer as her eyelids parted company with each other. Colors that gradually formed into objects came into view through the fluttering of her eyelashes.
Fuck . . . He had rescued her. He – Liam – had rescued her – probably saved her from certain danger. If he hadn't gotten her out when he did, there was a good chance she would have lost more than her leg.
And yet he couldn't save the fucking leg. Why do you think that is?
He was on the verge of fainting, I don't know.
For the first time, Lynné realized, she was glad that Joséphine couldn't see her. She didn't want to think about how horrified the child would be if, when she had come hurrying into the bedroom, she had been met with the gruesome sight of a woman with no leg.
"Mademoiselle?"
Christ, she doesn't give up, does she?
"Piss off, Josey," Lynné muttered dully, her words nearly indistinguishable through her barely moving lips.
"Vous êtes éveillés," (You are awake,) the girl gasped triumphantly. "J'ai cru que vous étiez. Je pourrais répéter par votre respiration." (I thought you were. I could tell by your breathing.)
"Good for you, kid, but would it kill ya to leave me alone for a minute? I'm kinda preoccupied."
"Avec que?" (With what?) asked Joséphine, not one to be swayed by blatant dismissals. Fingers spread out in front of her, she skillfully made her way towards the bed, following the sound of Lynn's voice the entire time. Her small hands placed securely on the edge of the mattress
Lynné looked down at the pale, wide-eyed face that was framed by loose curls. Mildly surprised, she held the child's 'gaze' for a moment before her eyes went to her leg – or lack thereof. For once – the first time, Lynné imagined – they did not linger on the stump where the stolen appendage had been – should have been. Nor, she realized, did her mind. An odd grin creeping across her face, Lynné ignored the voice's gleeful cries of You've lost it! You've finally lost it! as she turned back to Joséphine.
"You're lucky I like you, kid, cuz if not, that little move would've gotten you killed."
VVVAlarmed, but focused nonetheless, Zebbidy took her hands from Sands' shoulders in exchange for encircling her arms around his thin frame instead. She had to get him to lay down, she knew that, but in her experience with the injured, it was best to let a person get out whatever they were holding back before trying to make them do anything.
The agent was in shock. Something – a nightmare, she decided – had visited him while he slept. Through the feverish haze that hovered around him, a dream had come and scared him out of his senses. Zebbidy herself wasn't far behind him. She was stricken with worry while the man in her arms shook violently, rocking them both.
Sands' breath had been reduced to nothing but short, jerky gasps. As much as he struggled to take air in, he only succeeded in expelling a forced, irregular pant. He didn't know if he would go as far as 'pant.' Choke was more fitting, but whatever it was, it wasn't breathing.
'If you don't breathe . . .you die.'
Before, he had always taken that quote for granted. Snorting at how obvious it was, he had pointedly informed Lynné that if she said it one more time he'd make sure she took that last line with her to the grave. Literally. Now, however, he finally 'saw' what it truly meant.
Desperately trying to force his labored breathing out of its excruciating state, Sands replayed the last line of Christopher Durang's Laughing Wild through his head, despite how annoyed the voice was becoming.
'If you don't breathe, you die. If you don't breathe, you die. If you don't . . .'
Suddenly it was becoming all too painful to keep up his strenuous attempts at recovery. He had been shot in the chest; that's why it was so hard to do something so simple. Breathing, the process of inhaling and exhaling, was one of the simplest things a person could do. It was a cinch. One did it unconsciously it was that easy. As simple as . . .
. . . turning on a light? the voice finished coyly.
Shut . . . up . . . Sands managed to command, though it sounded more like a plea for relief.
"Are you all right?"
"I . . . said shut . . .up . . ."
That had to be the third time he'd spoken and his words hadn't been for her. If Sands' hitched breathing and terrified shivering weren't signs of the man's distress, then his voiced thoughts were. Through the shadows of the bedroom, Zebbidy could scarcely make out Sands' eyes, but there they were. Large and fearful, the dark orbs darted in every direction, leaving no corner overlooked as they searched for something they could not see. A sudden swell in her throat caught Zebbidy off guard as she tried fruitlessly to calm him.
"Sands," she began hesitantly, "no you didn't."
"Zeh . . . Zeb'dy?"
"Yes," she assured the agent, pulling him closer to her as if to confirm the fact. "What happened?" she asked him quietly.
"Noth-ing," Sands managed to choke out through the gasps that constricted his voice.
"Nothing . . . or something?" Zebbidy questioned, quoting something she failed to remember.
"Nightmare." He took in several deep breaths through his nose before continuing. "That . . . was all. Nothing . . . to worry . . . your pretty little h-ead . . . over."
"But I will anyway until I'm sure you're all right. So . . . care to tell me about it?"
"No," he murmured automatically with no trace of emotion. At least he was calming down, even if the difference wasn't entirely noticeable.
"Okay," Zebbidy said, unlike Lynné who would have carefully drawn information out of him. Instead, she let him go, dropping the subject until he was ready to pick it up again. Surprisingly, Sands was grateful for this, though even in his delirious state he doubted he would ever tell her that.
Loosening her embrace slightly, Zebbidy pulled her arm away to tuck one of Sands' more uncooperative strands of hair behind his ear. "Let me just make you some tea, all right? Herbal blends have never failed me yet."
Not waiting for a response, Zebbidy made to get up. Sands, however, seemed not to have heard her. He hadn't moved when she tried to get up, and he didn't move now. His breathing had slowed down until it had almost reached its normal pattern again. Still, his head remained where it was: Supported comfortably in the small dip between Zebbidy's shoulder and collarbone. He didn't want to move, and he didn't think she wanted to either.
"Sands," Zebbidy said softly but firmly. It was a tone that indicated that she was trying to be gentle but wanted him to obey her at the same time. He had to listen to her if she was to help him at all.
"Sands," she said again, this time in a stronger voice.
"Yeah," the agent muttered suddenly. As if realizing what he had been doing for the first time, he pulled away from her at once. "Yeah . . . okay . . ."
VVV"Here," Zebbidy said once she returned. "This should help."
"What is it?" Sands asked suspiciously, rising gingerly from the hill of pillows he had been reclining against.
"Tea," Zebbidy answered, placing a warm mug in his hand. "With mint, of course. I would've put hops in it, but I only have the dried kind."
"Hops?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow skeptically.
"It's a plant that makes you sleep," she explained as she watched the agent pause right as the cup came to his lips. Lowering the mug of tea, Sands rolled his eyes. Before she had left, Zebbidy had switched the light on the nightstand on, making sure that it was at the lowest setting. Now in the dull glow of the room she could see the glazed look that lingered in his eyes and refused to leave. Even now, small beads of perspiration that still shined on his forehead.
"I know that," Sands informed her irately, "I'd just like to know how you acquired that knowledge."
Zebbidy shrugged off the suspicion easily with a mild, "Here and there."
Instead of asking what the hell she meant by that, Sands let Zebbidy's evading answer go and slowly leaned back into his pillows again. Propped up against the welcoming cushions, he lifted the warm cup of tea to his mouth and took a cautious sip.
This's good.
Zebbidy, hearing Sands' silent honesty, felt rather flattered until the agent finished his thought.
But is it too good? Cuz at the moment, I can't afford to shoot her.
She felt her eyebrow rise with intrigue.
Nah. It's good, but it's not that good.
"Do you have anything to read?"
So caught up in listening to his thoughts, Zebbidy didn't realize Sands had spoken until several seconds after the fact.
"Not that I think you could've snagged one while you were busy hiding from me." Sands was trying to make her regret her mistakes. After all, she was the reason he felt the way he did. And though Rosa may have brought on his blindness, if he hadn't been searching for Zebbidy, their encounter may have never happened. If Zebbidy hadn't run off, they could have gotten out of Poisson's mansion and away from the gunfire. There was a good chance he wouldn't have gotten shot, and an even better chance that he wouldn't have met Rosa. But that happened. All of it. So Sands felt obligated to make her feel guilty after what she had done.
Picturing a wince from Zebbidy, Sands continued offhandedly. "But I thought I'd ask anyway."
Blinking in confusion, she blurted out a choppy, "Oh . . . I think I did bring a book, actually."
Sands raised a brow, feeling for the nightstand he knew had to be there and set his cup upon it. "Which one?"
"I'm not sure," Zebbidy replied, shaking her head back and forth uncertainly. "Vincent smuggled it out of Poisson's library weeks ago, gave it to me, I put it in my purse, and then forgot about it. So, no, I don't know what book it is."
"Would it kill you to go and find out?" Sands asked sarcastically.
Zebbidy tilted her eyes skyward and shook her head but did as the man asked. Sands remained quiet all the while she was gone, finding it becoming increasingly difficult to speak. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, allowing himself to be absorbed in the warmth they provided. By the time Zebbidy returned, he had all but drained his teacup and was nearly ready to be welcomed into the open arms of sleep, but not quite.
"So which book is it?" he asked drowsily after hearing her soft footsteps announce her presence.
"Da Vinci Code," Zebbidy informed him.
"Oh, good," Sands sighed as he successfully managed to stifle a yawn. "I was on Chapter Twenty-Six."
As soon as she held the red and gold colored book out to the agent, Zebbidy stopped short remember one awful, horrible, heart-wrenching fact: Sands was blind.
Or so he said, she reminded her self. But why would anyone lie about something so terrible? Did he know, perhaps, that she caught images of his past? Mere fragments that they were, they were Sands' past nonetheless and maybe he was toying with her, making her play the guilt card because she had left him with no explanation.
But how would he know? she wondered. If he was like me, I'd know, and I'm sure no one has told him because I haven't told anyone.
Uncomfortable, she drew the book close to her chest, picking at its spine in the hopes of finding a distraction. It didn't work. She bit her lip, knowing that if she gave the book to Sands, he was bound to fly into a rage after being reminded of his condition, however, she could not keep standing there like a dolt. She couldn't.
Inhaling a deep breath through her mouth, Zebbidy closed her eyes and braced herself, still hugging the book like a shield. Finally, she chose to voice her question.
"How do you plan on reading it?"
Her voice was light, casual, and as breezy as if she had merely asked him how her tea had tasted. She had chosen that tone on purpose in the hope of not upsetting her obviously distressed roommate.
"Well I was hoping to listen to it if you would be so kind," Sands told her sarcastically.
Score, Zebbidy thought as she nodded slowly more to herself than to the one who had spoken. Without a word, she walked over to the bed and sat down next to Sands. She closed her eyes and, sighing in relief, flipped the book open and turned to Chapter Twenty-Six.
"Had you started the chapter yet or – "
"I was at the part where . . . the guy was talking to a bunch of inmates. He was getting into the whole . . . divine . . . goddess . . . thing. Something like that. I dunno." Sands shrugged wanting nothing more than to fall asleep again, but despite how worn out his body felt, his mind was wide awake. That last dream had given his brain one hell of a buzz, and it would be a while before it wore off.
"Okay," Zebbidy began readily, switching positions so she could be comfortable as she read. Sands heard the rustle of skirts – She must still be wearing that dress – and soon felt her warm weight lying next to him. The moment Zebbidy began to read, Sands' breathing slowed and his lids grew heavy. He crossed his arms over his stomach, sinking deeper into the pillows the entire time.
". . . Langdon was not familiar with the brand name," Zebbidy read, her soft words filling Sands' groggy head. He was so thankful for the silkiness of her voice. It provided the sultry, calming tone that the sleepy atmosphere so desperately needed. "but he was glad to hear the prophylactic manufacturers had gotten their hieroglyphics right. 'Well done. Amon is indeed represented as a man with a ram's head, and his promiscuity and curved horns are related to our modern sexual slang 'horny . . .''"
VVVGeh! I'm so sorry. I know I promised to have this chapter up by Wednesday at the latest, but my week's been kinda hectic. I had district chorus all day Sunday, studying for geometry test Monday, thankfully nothing going on Tuesday, shopping for my Dad's birthday on Wednesday, studying for an extremely hard biology test on Thursday, and finally voice/piano lessons Friday. So, yeah, it's been insane. I hadn't predicted that, obviously, but I'm still sorry about not posting. But how could I when (creepy, high-pitched voice) school controls my miiiiiiind . . . ? O.O
Author's Thanks and Review Responses:
fanfiction fanatic: Hey, thanks for reviewing :D Nice to know it's okay if some chapters are posted a little later than others. :)
Dawnie-7: Yeah, the sarcasm's back. It seems like no matter how injured he is, Sands can always manage to come up with a sharp response to everything. And the dream bitches (nice choice of title, btw) definitely need to go, but I don't know how easy that's gonna be :(
Lynx Ryder: It's so great to hear found Sands and the voice's conversation saddening. I was really worried that it would come off as boring, so that's why it's such a relief to hear that. :D I've tried focusing on something until I gain it (mostly whenever I'm running) but it doesn't usually work for me. And you don't sound negative! o.o It's good to hear that Sands' pain was well depicted. Lol, I dunno if I'd go as far as saint :) But Zeb really does care about the mental and physical health of others especially when they're in pain. But she can definitely lose her patients. It's a rare thing, but it happens. For the upcoming chapters, I'm planning on a (subtle) change of character for her. Up until now, I feel as though she hasn't been showing her true colors cuz the original character of Zebbidy is silky, smart, smooth, always has an answer for everything, can relate a single situation to several different songs, and has a deep passion for the well-being of others. Up until now, I don't think she's really been true to that character, but now that she's in her element, hopefully she will be. And, nah, Sands didn't tell Ajedrez anything save for his plan. He can make some rash decisions from time to time, but he's not that stupid ;)
Invader Nicole: You're lucky you get to read. I never have time for my books anymore :( But I found a book called The Encyclopedia of Magic and Witchcraft when I was at the mall on Wednesday :D!!! It's really interesting and it's got everything – literally, everything – a person might wanna know about witchcraft. Definitely worth buying. u.u Yes, the story is very long, oy vey . . . 9.6;; Geh, this is gonna be a long review cuz there's so much to tell you, so I'll just send you an e-mail :) And Lyn and Liam are okay. For the time being at least.
DragonHunter200: My best? O.O Thank you!!! Although, yeah, nothing compares to Alaska, not trying to sound arrogant but even I gotta admit that that was my personal favorite dream sequence. And, yes, I've got another childhood memory to write up and it'll most likely turn up in the next chapter. And somebody agrees with me about state testing! The one I have to take is the PSSA but they're all basically the same, stupid, unnecessary things. XP And conspiracy? Yes, definitely, especially since the government is responsible for the damn things.
o