Sailormoon, still not mine.
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Twilight Bastille: Chapter #4 – Freefall
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Rei could never catch her father. She always fell first, her bathwater-wet hair slipping into the mud. The black door of the limousine always shut moments before she reached it, and she was left alone in the dirt.
The girl turned to her grandfather, searching instinctively for his comforting smell of cedar and cotton, for his gentle hands…
He was not there.
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Rei awoke instantly, a scream only half-choked rising in her throat. Calm down! It's only a nightmare, nothing more. Don't be such a child! she urged herself, trying desperately to quell her fluttering heartbeat. She rose, splashed her face with water from the basin, noting that it was nearly empty. I'll have to refill it at the latrine.
Rei glanced around the room, trying to see it as a stranger might. Until the doctor's visit last night, she'd never given thought to how their building appeared to others. Looking around at the state of their barracks also distracted Rei from her strange encounter with the doctor last night, something she didn't want to probe too closely.
At first, they'd occupied the barracks with another family. The Furukatas, a family of three children, their mother, and their aunt, had filled up the greater part of the building. There had never been enough water, and the bathroom had stunk all day. Rei could still remember the deathly shrieks of the baby, every time Mrs. Furukata threatened it with soapy bathwater.
That family had left months ago, striking out to Wyoming where the land was cheap. Pragmatic people. The Furukatas didn't cherish the same hope that Grandfather did – that there was a chance of buying their old home in California back.
Their barracks consisted of a living room (split in half by a curtain to denote Rei's bedroom), and an area in the back that Rei had recently converted into a more comfortable space for Grandfather. Three basins – two for their personal use, the last for dishes. All in all, it was about a tenth of the size of their valley home. Gritty floors, splintering wood walls, and scattered relics from home everywhere. The miniature shrine in the back, where Grandfather prayed every morning. Cracked flowerpots from the valley, overflowing with fuchsia geraniums. A shrine maiden's garments, too small but meticulously spotless.
Probably more than any other house in this camp, ours speaks of transience. The furniture is plastic, foldaway. We don't dare buy new clothes just in case that extra dollar can buy our home back. Grandfather decided the minute he arrived here that he would survive to see his ranch again. I…I always resented Papa's money that bought that place…but Grandfather fell in love with it.
Bright sunlight shone through the cracks between the wood planks of the building, dappling the dark room with lines of blinding white. Dust flowed through those cracks as well, covering the floor, making it impossible for her to walk barefoot as she liked.
Bending to pick up the sheets she'd kicked to the floor, Rei halted.
Something wasn't right.
The curtain flapped idly in the slightest breeze, rustling plastic and patchwork cotton.
Other than that, there was no noise in the house. No sound of the broom sweeping over the floor, no cheery "Up, up, child, it's far past dawn!"
More than that, Rei felt the lack of his presence. She could sense it, somewhere in the painful clench of her chest, the sudden acidic taste in her dry mouth. She stepped into what they jokingly referred to as the "parlor", where Jacen had sat last night. Her worry growing, Rei still couldn't help but notice that his musky scent lingered in the motionless air.
Two glasses stood innocuously upon the table. One chipped glass was full, the liquid inside tepid. The other was empty.
"Grandfather?"
No answer. Rei hadn't expected one. She was already pulling on her shoes and tying the waist sash of her housedress. In seconds, Rei was out the door, her long black mane a banner behind her.
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Grandfather scrubbed the sweat off his brow with one leathered hand. One more bathroom to go, and I'll be done for the day. It was well into the morning hours; hopefully Rei wasn't up. He had to get back before she awoke. She'd be furious if she knew he was still working, and rightly so.
It's not that I don't know I'm ill, Grandfather reflected bitterly. But what else can I do? I can't bear to be idle and leave her all the work. I can't afford to lose my salary, lose my home forever. Unless we've made enough money to return to the valley…when this camp closes, they'll turn us out onto the streets.
My child deserves better.
And it was true. Rei was more his than anybody else's, and he would always protect her. Ever since she'd fallen in the dirt at her father's leaving and stared up at him with her hurt-animal eyes – the last time he ever saw such total vulnerability on her face – they'd belonged wholly to each other.
He squinted his eyes in the already-bright sunlight, barely able to see the latrine block he'd be cleaning next. It swerved and sparkled like a mirror in the simmering heat. Salty perspiration dripped unceasingly down his forehead, and he saw nothing but sparks in his vision for a moment, gleaming bits of sand tilting crazily close.
All this squinting with these ancient eyes, Grandfather thought ruefully. It's giving me a miserable headache.
Grandfather made his way up the walkway, steadying himself with one hand on the railing. The black iron balustrade, directly in the sun, burned to the touch. A blinding flash, like brightest camera fire, sparked behind his eyelids. He flung his hand away from the hot metal, his feet lurching beneath him.
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…Her small, bare feet pounded down the uneven steps of the old shrine, slipping slightly on the curling tendrils of moss. There was a smell of damp stone and dew-kissed leaves in the air and Rei ran faster than she had ever run in her life, because if she couldn't catch him now, he'd be gone forever.
Her slippered feet skidded over the powdery dirt, trampling prickly weeds in their wake. A scent of melting, metallic sand hung in the air. And Rei was running again.
How many times have I run like this? Countless. Every night in my dreams. I never wanted it to happen again.
Rei couldn't put a name to her panic, but it was tangible, an intuition clamping tight her ribs, paining her every breath. A portent that she couldn't ignore. Nobody was around now; children were in classes and everybody else was getting ready for breakfast at the mess hall. The guard who had approached her two weeks before whistled a show tune at her from his barracks doorstep, splashing on a cloying aftershave.
She ignored all of it.
There was no sure way of knowing exactly where he was, so Rei ran blindly, trusting her instinct to lead her right. She found herself moving towards the outskirts of the camp, toward the bathrooms furthest from their barracks.
Long before she'd reached the crumpled figure at the base of the railing, she knew.
When she laid her trembling hands upon him, he was little more than a pile of swaddled clothes and slender bones. His pulse quivered hesitantly beneath her fingertips.
Rei heard an anguished, keening moan in the distance. Shut up! Let me be, let me grieve for my own. Who was that, making those throbbing animal noises? She buried her face in his chest, her fists gripping his grayed old shirt in handfuls, trying to block out the sound of her pain.
She didn't remember what voice guided her to his door.
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Jacen was shaving at his mirror when a loud bang at the front door sounded. He cursed fluently as the razor cut into his throat, spilling red over his unbuttoned shirt. Toweling the blood off, he stomped to the door and threw it open, wincing at the morning light flooding his vision. He blinked a few times, and suddenly Rei was in front of him, her head bowed.
Well, this is unexpected…
The events of last night slammed back into his memory – her closeness in the hallway, the shattered glass, his resolution to stay back. "'Morning, pigeon." The nickname came easily, without thought. Odd, but appropriate. She put him in mind of a fragile, fascinating bird of some sort, caged and wild.
Rei didn't reply, her hair still curtaining her face. She swayed slightly in the breeze, as though she could barely hold herself upright. Frowning, he reached forward to steady her, tilt her chin up.
"Hey – hey, what is it…?" Jacen trailed off as he leaned in, got a good look at her face.
Something was clearly wrong.
Strands of coal black clung to her skin, caught in a thin sheen of sweat. Her eyes were dully obscure, but no tears fell. Jacen felt a sudden chill down the length of his spine, looking into that blank face. Letting go of her chin, he turned swiftly to grab his emergency bag. He brushed past her, leaving the door open, and broke into a jog, seeing from Rei's quickly-vanishing path of footprints where the old man lay.
Rei followed behind him, moving more deliberately. She placed one foot in front of the other, brow furrowed at the dirt in intense concentration. Her thoughts were silenced, her footsteps even softer. She feared that any noise would reawaken that mental scream.
So she walked quietly, arms rigidly pinned to her sides, and tried to think of nothing at all.
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"Cerebrovascular accident. Currently comatose."
Jacen shoved the report across the table, massaging his temples with his other hand. The fuss outside his office was noisy, nurses talking in loud, excited voices. They hadn't had any such serious illnesses or injuries in months. Inside, however, it was quiet and cold, just the way they both wanted it. Rei snatched the report, her eyes hungrily scanning the paper for an explanation, for something to blame. He watched her silently mouth the unfamiliar words to herself.
She seemed to be back to normal, her manner composed, her tone businesslike. The tremble of her hands was barely noticeable, her voice only slightly breathless.
Four hours ago, Rei had been all but sleepwalking. She didn't remember following Jacen to where she thought her grandfather lay dead. She didn't remember watching from a few feet away as Jacen gently stretched her grandfather out in the shade, quickly checking for a pulse, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with an experienced hand. There had been a stretcher, a growing crowd of murmuring internees. Jacen had calmly maneuvered her through the spectators, his imposing height clearing a path, and then a jarring cart-ride to the hospital. She didn't remember anything up until half an hour ago, when Jacen had shaken her roughly from her seat, hands gripping her curled-in shoulders, tired blue eyes locked on hers.
"He's alive, Rei."
She had stared at him dumbly, recognition coming slowly. He'd turned away and walked back to his office, wanting to give her a moment to collect herself. While waiting, Jacen had begun to write up the report. When he looked up again, Rei stood in the doorway, that familiar blaze in her eyes. Now she sat across from him, expression hidden behind the report. And all Jacen could do was watch her, praying to everything he considered holy (and that was very little) that he never saw that lifelessness in her face again.
Rei dropped the papers back on his desk, willing her hands not to shake. Attempting to slow her racing thoughts, she glanced around his office, his cluttered working space, so different from the spare desk in his own quarters. The air was cooler in here, thanks to the many lazily whirring fans overhead. The walls were all white, the floors painted to match. Grandfather hated white. Back at their shrine in Tokyo, the walls and floors were all paneled with cedar. He'd lovingly scrubbed the ancient, knotted wood down every morning. Even at the ranch, Grandfather had inched his way up a tottery ladder every few months to touch up the sky blue paint on the walls. He always wanted to feel like he was outside. And now he'd be confined indoors in these antiseptic rooms for God-knew-how-long. She drew a deep breath, unable to think of the prospect without a sort of throbbing pain.
Jacen's gaze was coolly professional, all traces of personal interest banished. He'd seen a hundred daughters and granddaughters try and act like they weren't scared. Rei pulled it off fairly well, but there was no mistaking the difference between the girl who'd walked into his room without shame, the girl who'd enticed him with her woman's eyes…and the far littler girl sitting here before him. She looked on the point of collapse, but she met his eyes all the same.
"How are you feeling?" As he spoke, Jacen pulled a tumbler from his desk cabinet and filled it with whiskey. "Here. This'll settle your nerves." It was a command, but Rei ignored it, leaning forward over the report.
The last thing Rei needed him thinking was that she couldn't deal with this. She didn't have his skills, but she had every intention of helping to pull Grandfather through. It wouldn't do if the doctor thought she couldn't handle the situation – he'd make a point of withholding serious information from her, to spare her nerves. Most doctors made it their policy not to tell female relatives of the patient how bad things really were. Grandfather will need you to be strong. Like his wife was. Remember whose blood runs through your veins. She straightened, emotional fatigue ebbing from the tight lines of her face.
"What kind of…treatment…does he need?" She prayed that she sounded somewhat normal.
Jacen flattened his palms over the books and documents spread haphazardly between them, leaning back. He looked completely at home in the leather armchair, every inch a man comfortable in his competence.
"I'm putting him on a pretty standard diet of medication, Rei, – to control blood clotting, sugar, pressure, what have you." Jacen didn't want to complicate things, but he also didn't like treating her like she was stupid. "I'll deal with the rest when he wakes up – hopefully mobility and other functions haven't been affected, but I won't know for sure until he's conscious – "
"Conscious? When will that be?" Rei interrupted, panic edging into her voice. She couldn't help it; she held her breath, waiting for the answer.
Jacen paused. "Honestly? I don't know." She exhaled sharply, though her expression didn't change. Jacen had the impression that it was all but glued to her face, held there by sheer will. "Normally, Rei, I wouldn't be so blunt with a young woman. But…" he shrugged, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth, "you've made it rather clear to me that you'll do absolutely anything to ensure his welfare. I assume this includes staying on top of changes in his condition, positive or not. For my part, I'll be completely honest with you regarding his prognosis."
"Thank you, Doctor," her reply was calm.
Figuring this was about all she could take in one day, Jacen stood. She stood also, looking a bit pale, but otherwise composed. Most of the girls he knew would be loath to hear the grisly details or grim prognosis of a loved one's treatment. Rei…he had the feeling she'd completely lose what little patience she had if she didn't know exactly what was going on. Even now, she looked slightly improved upon hearing his scant news; the doctor noted that there was no tremble near her hands and mouth.
"We'll pull him through, you and I," his choice of words made something in Rei's chest flutter. Jacen held out a hand, and she touched his palm with cool, white fingers.
"I have no doubt, Dr. Amos."
"Good," he said shortly, and nodded toward the whiskey with the faintest ghost of a smile. "Drink up."
Her eyes on his, Rei lifted the tumbler and took the smallest possible sip. With that, she set it down and padded out of the office.
Brat.
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Quick note: In not-so-recent times, it actually was NOT uncommon for physicians to keep important details from patients' female relatives, in order to spare them any feminine "hysteria"…