Three weeks later…
d2: + 23 months
d3: − 1 year, 1 month
Part X: Standing still
Tilting her head back, Nina allowed the water to rain down on her face, lingering in the warmth that enclosed her. And for a moment her world was still and small, and all she had to do was simply being. She felt lightheaded and turned the water off.
Stepping out of the shower, she reached for the towel and started to rub her hair dry, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Pausing, she watched her pale figure staring back at her, let her eyes travel over her face, exploring her features, lower then, over her shoulders, her chest and belly, and all the way down her body and back up again.
This is what you've become.
She turned around, slowly, her gaze brushing over the scars, recognizing each one of them, counting them, reassuring the number was still the same. One more now.
She took a step back and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at her leg and the latest, freshest mark she had earned. She felt the need to touch it and let her fingers slide over it, feeling the rough scar tissue that was building. It wasn't pretty but it looked alright. It healed well.
If you could say that about everything else as well...
She pulled her hand away, quickly as if she had burnt herself, and looked up and away, trying to shake the disconcerting thought off, stemming the entire chain of thoughts that she feared to be attached to it. Remembering she had an appointment to keep, she got up again and walked over to the pile of clothes she had left on the floor. She found her watch next to it and checked the time. Still enough time to get ready.
Dressed in clean clothes, she walked into the living room a few minutes later and sat down at the computer. Right on time. A window popped up on her screen, notifying her of the incoming call. She ran a hand through her still wet hair, combing a strand behind her ear before she activated the transmission. Another window opened up, showing the images of both her own web cam and his. A normal phone call would have done it for her, but he wanted it this way so why bother.
"How's it going over there?"
She would have skipped the small talk as well, but then again, she knew it wasn't just that.
"I'm good," she stated matter-of-factly and let him have a long close look at her, allowing him to see for himself that she was fine. After all, his strong interest could only be a good sign. It had nothing to do with emotional concern, of course, but it could mean that he thought of her as valuable. Maybe he was finally trusting her again. Not unconditionally or unquestioningly, but maybe enough to assign her to a real job again. Once she was back in shape. As for the moment she was still recovering, and cautious as he was he wouldn't rush things. He never did. This was the first time he contacted her directly again. Which could only mean that he assessed the situation to be safe. Contacting her was no longer a risk. No one's after you.
He seemed satisfied and ended his visual inspection.
"It will please you to hear that we identified the leak Travis mentioned to you."
"Who?"
"Let's just say it's been taken care of."
She nodded.
Very well, she thought, suddenly noticing she didn't really care anyway. Someone had sold her out and now paid for it. She didn't need to know more.
Don't need to or don't want to?
"The feds are still investigating the incident at the hotel but there's nothing indicating that your name came up anywhere," he confirmed her assumption, and she was smart enough to display some sign of relief. She should be concerned about this.
You really oughta be.
"Is there anything else we could or should do to keep it that way? Anything pointing your way?" he asked, his voice mellow but insistent. But she had been prepared for the question and answered appropriately – not too quickly, not too hesitatingly, not saying more than necessary.
"No."
Again he took a moment to study her face, trying to see if there was anything she was hiding from him. There isn't, she told herself, blocking all other thoughts from her mind. He couldn't see what wasn't there. And it seemed to work.
"Good," he said. "Take your time to recover. I'll be in touch."
She nodded, and when he ended the transmission, she reached for the keyboard to shut the program down. Folding her arms then, she kept staring at the blank screen.
Anything pointing your way? the question echoed in her ears. There isn't.
She had no problem lying to him, she had done it before. But this time it was different. She had been lying by not telling him about Jack, and there was a good reason for that. But keeping quiet about Nick, a witness who could bring her down any time he wanted to, a witness she had let walk away – it was something else.
No, it's not. Actually it was exactly the same. She didn't want him to know because it would jeopardize her job prospects.
She shook her head. Whom was she kidding – it would do much more than that. Once her employer knew about either one of them, there would only be one option left to her. She would have to kill them, and deep down she knew she wasn't ready to go that way yet. Not if she could avoid it. You're getting weak. Or maybe she always had been in some regards.
Nick's not gonna bring you down, she told herself, diverting her attention from the implications of her realizations He would only get himself in trouble, considering his own part in the whole thing. But it probably wasn't what was stopping him. She couldn't get her head around him and it was bugging her. She would feel a whole lot better if…
Get over it. It had almost been a month. If he had wanted to tell anyone, he would have done it by now. But he hadn't and that was all that mattered.
She turned her head and looked out through the window. She could contact Amador again. She had given him the headlines about what had happened at the hotel, and unlike some other people he didn't seem to be worried to do business with her. Her leg was alright and she was eager to work. Anything but sitting around and staring at the walls. Anything but thinking about what had happened.
Nick. Nick and his mind-games. She had to stop thinking about it. She had to get him out of her head and get on with…with whatever it was she was doing.
¤¤¤
Nick watched the raindrops running down the window pane, clinging to the glass as if to hide from the wind that was tearing at them to take them away. For a strange moment he could relate to the feeling.
Feeling? He shook his head. There's something seriously wrong when you start thinking about the feeling of raindrops, my friend!
"Hello?" Phil's voice came from a distance, and Nick brought the receiver closer to his ear again.
"Hey there."
"Nick! Finally. Not that easy to get a hold of you. I must have left like a hundred messages."
"Yeah, I know. I was away for a while. Just got back today," he lied, instantly feeling bad about it. He had actually been back for two days already.
"Away? Where have you been?"
"Here and there, driving around. No specific place really." This was more or less true.
"Oh boy, you got a life," Phil sighed.
Yeah, I'm living a dream, Nick thought sarcastically.
"So what's up? Something happened?" he asked, not expecting a positive answer though. None of Phil's messages had sounded alarmingly urgent.
"Nothing much, I was just wondering how you're doing."
"Sure," Nick laughed, knowing of course what Phil really wanted. He was waiting for an explanation. Which was why he hadn't returned his calls earlier. He didn't know what to tell his friend.
"How's my patient?"
Here we go.
"Fine, I guess."
"You don't know?"
"Nope. Haven't seen her since that night."
"Really?" Phil sounded surprised.
"Really," Nick confirmed. "Why?"
"Well, you know, I just thought…I mean…I thought there was something going on there."
He didn't know whether he should be shocked or amused at the idea.
"No, Phil, there's definitely nothing going on there," he stated with a sigh, knowing he couldn't just leave it at that.
"So, you're telling me you got into the middle of a shoot-out and helped someone who obviously was involved in it to hide from the cops, but the fact that she's a beautiful woman has nothing to do with it?"
A beautiful woman? Those were probably the last words he would have expected anyone to use when describing Nina Myers. Well, he doesn't know her. He doesn't know who she is. What she is.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
"Well, then you're either lying or you lost me."
Nick shook his head, stifling another sarcastic laughter.
"What did you get yourself into anyway?" Phil asked before he could think of anything to say. "The FBI was all over the place, the news stations were camping –"
"Yeah, I watched TV," Nick cut him short.
"Then you saw that bogus about two prisoners who escaped from a high security institution and got killed and a third person who got away? The whole thing smells cover-up."
Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Look, Phil, I know you risked a lot by helping me and you deserve some answers, but I really can't tell you what happened."
"Yeah, yeah, for my own safety," Phil sighed. "I got that. And I already told you it's alright. But I'm not asking you what happened. I just wonder how you got into all that. I mean, I wasn't the only one who risked a lot."
No, you certainly weren't.
"Truth to be told – I'm worried about you," Phil continued. "You're my best friend. We used to tell each other…well, everything."
Nick ran a hand through his hair, turning away from the window he had been standing in front of and starting to pace his apartment. Suddenly the past was right there again. Everything. It was true but the word still had a whole different meaning and they both knew it. They both knew what it was really referring to. The one thing no one else knew, no living soul but them.
"See, if you really can't tell me, that's okay. I won't ask any more questions. I just need to know that you're alright. And if you're not, then I want to know if there's anything I can do."
Nick stopped pacing, shoving his free hand in his pocket.
"Has this something to do with your work for the government? I know you can't -"
"Yes," Nick finally broke his silence. "It has. The woman I helped, you helped – I know her from back then. And the reason I helped her was because…" Yes? "Because I had to." It was as insufficient an explanation as it could get, but he didn't have anything better to offer. Neither to Phil, nor to himself. "But she's out of my life now and everything's alright. You don't have to worry."
Was that the truth? Or was he just lying to Phil for the second time? Was there nothing to worry about? Was she out of his life?
Yes, she is.
It was silent for a moment as Phil seemed to contemplate what he had just been told.
"Okay," he said then, signaling that it was all he needed to know. "So, since you don't seem to have any obligations for the moment and a lot of spare time - when are we going to see you again?" he abruptly changed the subject, and Nick was grateful.
"Well, actually, something just came up. I ran into an old colleague and he sort of talked me into something."
"A job?"
"No, a book. He's editing it and asked me to contribute a few chapters, so, I said yes."
"Good for you. So, you're gonna stay home for a while now?"
"No, actually he also offered me to drive up to his cabin and work there. You know, just me and nature."
"Well, either he really trusts you to let you stay at his place or he really doesn't," Phil chuckled. "Probably thinks you won't get anything done unless you're safely away from all possible distractions. Beautiful women included."
Nick laughed. Burton hadn't said anything but it was probably close to the truth. After all, Nick had let him down before when he had turned down his job offer. And to be honest, he had been surprised Burton was giving him this chance now. But his former mentor was probably still hoping that he could win him back to the academic world. It's what you're meant to do, he had told him. A talent like yours shouldn't be wasted. And for a moment Nick had thought: why not? He could at least give it another try. But he knew, deep down, that it was only the prospect of burying himself in work that was attracting him.
"So, when are you leaving?" Phil asked.
"Next week."
The idea with the cabin hadn't sounded too bad either. He knew at some point he had to stop running but for now, getting away again was too tempting. Everything but standing still. Everything but having too much time to think.
They talked a little longer about this and that, and then hung up when he had promised to call again soon. He placed the receiver back on the station and went to get himself a drink. He suddenly felt he needed it.
She's out of my life now.
Whom was he kidding – she was everything but that. If you focused so much energy and thinking on someone, that person, in some way, became a part of you. It was quite normal, a common phenomenon. And as much as he tried to get rid off her now, she was still there. He couldn't get her out of his head. And he didn't have anyone to blame but himself.
He took the bottle out of the fridge and poured himself a glass. It was too early but he didn't care. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be or anything to do. Taking a careful sip, he closed his eyes and tasted the alcohol on his tongue, running down his throat, intoxicating his blood circulation. He hadn't eaten since early morning - it wouldn't take long for his mind to find ease and comfort.
He wondered what she was doing. He had wondered since that night when a part of him had wanted to go back. Just because he had been curious, of course. He had tried so hard to tackle her self-confidence, to confuse her and get her angry, to make her feel instead of rationalize – and given the fact that he was still alive it seemed to have worked. But he wondered how long it had lasted.
She probably recovered very quickly. And he was a fool if he thought he could have changed her with some psych talk.
Was that what he had been trying to do? Change her? No, I was trying to survive. He had tried to manipulate her and succeeded, to a large degree probably because she had been wounded and weak. And somewhere in the back of his head his ego was already complaining again because it seemed he couldn't get to her unless she was in that state.
Get over it! he yelled inside his head.He had done it, he had broken her. No matter what had happened afterwards, that night he had broken her. His ego should be satisfied. And if not for that, then because he was still alive. She hadn't killed him then and she still hadn't come after him now. It was over! He had to move on.
He took another small sip of his drink, trying to calm himself. Maybe he should go out tonight. Getting drunk at home wouldn't do him any good and was pretty stupid when he could go to a bar instead, try to find some distraction, maybe hook up with someone for the night. Hadn't that been one of the reasons to keep the apartment in the city? He had moved up here about a year ago for a job and decided to stay. This place was as good as any. And if the whole idea about staying at Burton's cabin really was to keep him away from all distractions, he should probably take the opportunity now and distract himself as long as he still could. And what could be better to take his mind off of everything than… A beautiful woman, Phil's voice rang out in his head, instantly letting his thoughts return to Nina Myers. And he froze for a second, then gulped the rest of his drink down and slammed the empty glass on the counter, already looking for his keys and jacket. I was thinking 'getting laid'.