Chapter 3: Conversations
Virgil's POV
As I watch this force of nature flit around her studio, pressing buttons and checking screens, I wrack my brain for the right word to describe whatever it is about her that's different. Something that separates her character from me or Brains or Grandma, any of us.
"Vibrancy," I blurt out quietly, the realisation coming to me suddenly.
"Hmm?" Scott turns to me.
Glancing at everyone now looking at me – except for Alex, who continues to prep her stage – I explain: "I was trying really hard to figure out what was different about her. I could see something in her that's different to anyone here, and I realise it's vibrancy; she's so alive and bright, and up on that stage it's more obvious than ever that she shines."
"She's always been like that," Brains nods in agreement, "w-which is why I hate that she's now having moments like the one at the bottom of the stairs. Her vibrancy has d-dulled, and I want to help her get it back."
"This is so kind of you, Brains," Grandma puts her hand on his shoulder. "You did all this, made all this for her, and this is the happiest I've seen her yet. She's lucky to have you."
"Got 'em!" Gordon joyfully cries, jogging past us up to Alex on the stage. Her eyes are wide as she takes her violin and computer from him.
"That was fast!"
Gordon shrugs. "Ran up the stairs."
She stares at him as he stands there barely breathing hard. She shakes her head. "You're all superhuman, I swear."
A few minutes and some instruction from Brains later, she's all connected up where she needs to be.
"Okay!" she grins electrically. "Audience's choice; how would you like me to blow your minds first?"
We all laugh at her words, but I stay silent as they all start to babble about what they want to hear, so I can properly contemplate exactly what she just said. She's completely confident up there, more at home and in her element than since she arrived. There is absolutely no doubt in her mind that she will, in fact, blow our minds with whatever she plays. I smile. I get what Brains meant just now; this, right here, this is his friend, in all her original glory. Like a shout of exhilaration screamed while looking out from a mountaintop, incarnated inside a woman's body.
"Oh! Oh! I know!" Alan jumps up and down excitedly. "I've only heard violins as like these delicate instruments, which is, you know...nice." Alex snorts at his hesitance. "But could you do a piece that is super powerful, and, like, the opposite of delicate?"
"You want power?" she grins, sighing dramatically and flicking her violin bow out to the side like a weapon. "If you insist."
Brains laughs in obviously electric anticipation, as she presses a button on her setup. She quickly skips to the middle of her stage as a metronome counts her in. And then she's suddenly playing; loud and defiant and like she's looking for a fight. Huge crashing drums join her in the next phrase, then electric guitars have their moment next, very much like an opponent stepping up to a fighting arena. She meets them wholeheartedly with her violin, her steps and leaps as proud as a gladiator champion. The whole piece is like a bar fight, where it's her against ten and she's winning. It ends like dust settling after a battle; with sudden silence and an air of superiority. Her eyes glare defiantly at us, like lightning blazing across the sky and daring the ground to strike back. She locks eyes with Alan with a dangerous and satisfied grin.
"How was that?" She doesn't even phrase it as a question. Alan just cackles excitedly in response.
"That was so awesome!" Gordon cheers.
She bows almost sarcastically, completely sure of herself, and we all share a laugh.
"Okay," she places her violin down, "and another one for you, Alan; I'll do the full rendition of that song from The Lord of the Rings."
"Ooh, yes, please!"
I raise my eyebrows in anticipation. Remembering her comment about my artistic versatility, I wonder if she lives up to her own appreciation. She said earlier that this piece was supposed to be a lament at the funeral of one of the characters, so it should be gentle, subdued and sorrowful; a complete opposite to the self-confident, unstoppable power from her last piece. I'm interested to see how well she switches.
She sets up her computer again, obviously cuing some backing tracks. She steps back up to the mic, grinning and winking at Brains before suddenly composing her face into something more solemn. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath then starts to sing. She sings the verse she did earlier, but when she continues another voice joins her on the backing track. I've not heard her singing much yet, so I'm surprised that I can tell so easily that it's her voice in the harmonies, too. The song continues as a conversation between a loving and impatient watchman and the winds from the north, south and west, about the whereabouts and welfare of a soldier. It ends with the north wind regretfully informing the watchman that he fell nobly in battle. It's quietly dignified, effortlessly reflecting the honoured burial that was intended for this soldier, but fully embracing the pain that comes with the loss. The stark and skilful contrast between the composition and the performance of the two pieces is striking, and I can only shake my head in wonder, a permanent grin on my face.
Once again, the piece ends with hair-raising silence as the emotions hang in the air.
"That was so nice!" Alan breathes. "I could totally see that being in the movie, too!"
Alex grins shyly at him. "As I said, Tolkien wrote the words to the lament. I just composed the music and harmonies."
"Alex," Kayo raises her eyebrow pointedly, "there's nothing 'just' about either of the two pieces you just did. You have incredible talent."
Alex starts self-consciously fiddling with her hair and the equipment around her again, but Grandma speaks up before she can feel awkward.
"Alright, everyone, I think that's enough fun down here for now. Extended parts of the tour and more wonderful music from Alex can be done any time in the future. For now, let's all head back up and start thinking of dinner."
Alex brightens up immediately, leaping from the stage to grin excitedly at Gordon. "Right; nachos!" They give small claps in excitement, and the rest of us laugh at their antics. Before we move off though, Alex raises a hand.
"Let me just get my violin and computer. Also, please can we take the lift up?"
"I think we can arrange that," I laugh.
As we lead her towards the elevator, I gently take her computer from her so she's not carrying everything, and she smiles at me gratefully.
"I seriously can't believe you're so talented while still being so young though," Gordon grins at Alex.
She rubs the back of her neck. "Thanks. I mean, all it takes is daily dedication to the point of almost-obsession, and often fully flung into the realms of obsession, with rigorous and ruthless self-discipline from the age of three. No biggie," she jokes, before she freezes and regards Gordon with narrowed eyes. "Wait, how old do you think I am?"
He shrugs easily. "Nineteen, same as me."
Brains makes a slight choking noise to the side as Alex's expression drops to flat disappointment and annoyance. "I'm twenty-three, little Gordo," she snaps at him.
His eyes fly open as the rest of us snicker at him. "What? But…. You're…so small."
Her face darkens even further, even as Brains makes completely futile slashing motions at his neck towards Gordon. Alex cracks her knuckles before stalking closer to Gordon.
"Little," she murmurs, "lithe…" She backs Gordon up against the railing, slamming her palm onto the bar behind him. "…Lethal."
He leans back away from her, his eyes wide in obvious intimidation despite being a good three inches taller than her. No wonder, because her eyes blaze unflinchingly, highly advising against testing her.
"Yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am."
She smiles tightly then pats his cheek pointedly.
Alan chuckles. "So have you always been so boldly terrifying?"
Brains interjects. "Remember when I t-told you she spent her school years defending me?"
Alex nods. "I didn't often need to resort to punching them in the face or hitting them with something. But these definitely weren't the type of people who would back off just because I said 'pretty please'. I often needed to show some teeth. Which I had absolutely zero qualms about, if I was defending someone from any kind of bully! I have no patience for those types of people, and an already unfortunately short temper; sucks for them!"
"Well, I'm glad that Brains had such an...enthusiastic defender," Grandma's smile is slightly tired and thin, "but it's a shame you had to resort to force or intimidation."
Alex shrugs easily. "It is a shame. But people like that exist, and they won't respond to any other method of communication. And I'll always be one of the first people to take up arms against them if the situation demands it, because if I don't, there's a dangerously high chance that no one else will, and I'm just not comfortable leaving innocent people to the wolves. Innocent people like one of the smartest and most kind-hearted men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, versus the brutes whose version of 'self-improvement' consisted only of belittling everything and everyone else."
Grandma makes pensive sound, pausing before answering: "I suppose that makes you similar to International Rescue; the first ones on the scene to help others."
Alex's responding smile is smaller and more tired than I expect. "Except you guys mostly deal with accidents. You go up against nature itself, or human error that is often at worst caused by innocent stupidity." She leans against the elevator railing, suddenly slumped as if holding up the hangar ceiling. "Standing in front of deliberate human malice and saying 'I'll not let you go any further' is...different."
Her eyes are unfocused as she stares at the gradually retreating hangar floor. "You sometimes start to wonder if even just being around it, being on the front lines and first barrier it encounters, is maybe poisoning you. Like living in the fallout zone of a nuclear meltdown, where even just being there is killing you slowly."
Some weird irrational part of me wants to rush over and encase her in my arms, and protect her from whatever battlefields she's seen, whatever battlefields she's obviously remembering right now. Instead, brushing off all the awkwardness around her, Grandma steps forward and places a hand on Alex's shoulder, who turns to look at her with lost eyes.
"First rule of International Rescue," Grandma says softly. "Always make sure you're safe before helping others. You can only help them as much as you want to if you protect yourself, too."
Alex sighs, nodding sadly. "I've always had trouble with that; Mum used to say I'd always run into a fire to drag people out, completely oblivious to the hose next to me."
Grandma squeezes her shoulder again, smirking slightly. "You and Scott are actually very similar in that respect."
An amused smile creeps onto Alex's face, bringing some of her vibrancy back as she slowly turns around to regard my older brother curiously, who looks away sheepishly. "Really?"
"It took a lot of training to get him out of the habit of dashing recklessly into emergency simulations."
"Yeah, and the training still hasn't worked perfectly!" Alan sticks his tongue out at Scott, who scowls at him.
Alex laughs softly. "That's actually quite nice. Reassuring."
"How so?" I tilt my head at her curiously.
She grins. "The world is given this image of International Rescue as these perfect people who never make any mistakes and have no flaws. It's...kind of annoying, honestly," she declares, half boldly, half sheepishly. "But the fact that you're just like the rest of us in some ways, and that you're just like any other family I've seen... I don't know, it's just nice, I prefer you like this compared to the perfect versions I'd heard of."
"I don't know what you're saying," Gordon shrugs confidently. "I actually am perfect."
"I saw a nearly-two-foot pile of food wrappers and crockery when I went into your room three days ago to drag you out of bed because you'd gone back to sleep despite all of us calling on you three times," I intone drily.
To his credit, Gordon only pauses for a second while we laugh before answering: "Yeah, but those things don't matter so they don't count."
"Fine," I shrug easily with a smile, "the next time you don't wake up by yourself in time for breakfast, you don't get any."
He gasps dramatically, attempting to turn the full force of his kicked puppy expression on me. But I've long since developed an immunity to it, so I just raise a challenging eyebrow at him.
"You wouldn't," Gordon whispers, narrowing his eyes.
I narrow mine right back. "I'd even eat your portion."
"Oof," Alex giggles quietly. "Okay, you two, before you start a fight over that meal, maybe finish thinking about this next one." She rests a placating hand on Gordon's shoulder as he stands there, crestfallen. "Eyes on the prize, little Gordo; remember the nachos."
Like the kid he is, he immediately perks up and dashes off the elevator as soon as it's stopped, muttering excitedly about nachos. As I shake my head at his simplicity, Alex watches him almost skip in the direction of the kitchen with the pride of a puppeteer.
"Huh, you were right, Brains," she grins at him. "If he gets sad about something, just distract him with food." She leans back confidently against the railings as she regards our bemused faces with ease. "And my predictions would be... Scott would actually follow through with the threat of letting him miss breakfast and eating his portion, to try and kick Gordon into shape; Alan would also follow through because he'd think it would be hilarious; John would probably not because he'd have given up on kicking Gordon into shape; and Virgil wouldn't either because he's too soft-hearted, being the teddy-bear of the brothers as he is."
"What?!" I cry indignantly, my ears burning as Kayo, Brains and Grandma laugh at the three of us.
Alex just grins playfully. "After years of Brains telling me anecdotes about you all, I've got a decent feel for your characters, so I'm pretty confident in my predictions about how you would all act in this scenario."
Scott shrugs sagely but with a small smile. "He needs to learn somehow, and that would definitely get his attention."
"And it absolutely would be hilarious," Alan cackles.
They all turn to me expectantly. I can feel my ears heating up further under the scrutiny of Alex with her raised eyebrow, with some of the heat even pooling on the tops of my cheeks. I scratch the back of my head, avoiding eye contact.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," I mutter defensively. "It wouldn't be good for him to go without."
They all start laughing again, so I scowl and stride off the elevator. Or I try to; Alex surprises me by catching my upper arm in both her hands.
"I never said being soft-hearted was a bad thing," she reassures me, no longer laughing. "You really have no idea how heart-warming it is to see someone – particularly a man – who is physically built like you are and who doesn't use their strength to literally strong-arm their way into getting what they want. You instead use it only to protect people, because you care about everyone so much." The smile she directs at me is astoundingly sincere in its warmth. "You're a breath of fresh air, Virgil Tracy."
Heat flushes over me at the sincerity of her compliment, I direct a shy smile at her as much as I can while avoiding her eyes. After around five seconds, I shrug lightly, regarding her out of the corner of my eyes.
"What else would I do?"
She laughs once in something close to a sob, and looking back at her I'm startled to see tears in her eyes despite her bright smile. She squeezes my arm with an affection that is just shy of being desperate.
"Exactly my point." She closes her eyes, breathing deeply to steady herself. "You have no idea how much I needed to meet someone like you. Even I didn't know."
My eyebrows draw together, pained by how moved she is by something so simple and by her carefully-repressed desperation. She swallows and breathes deep, closing her eyes momentarily before Gordon's impatient and uncertain voice calls out from further in the house.
"Uh, guys? Nachos…?"
"Right, coming!" Alex cheers, joviality slightly forced, before she exhales, picks up her violin again and strides decidedly off towards Gordon's voice.
Brow tense with concern, I follow her first, watching her quietly flee from whatever emotions she was feeling back in the elevator, but when she pauses beside my piano again to gaze at the instrument, I only make it two steps further before stopping to stare at her while the others pass us both. It's likely she knows I've stopped, but she doesn't say anything.
"Virgil, you coming?"
I turn to Scott who's waiting by the stairs, studying us both curiously.
"Give me a minute," I say quietly. "I'll join you in a bit."
He shrugs easily. "Sure. I'll make sure no one blows up the kitchen in the meantime."
I grin at him before turning back to Alex, my expression sobering again. She's taken a seat on the stool since I last looked, her violin propped up against one of the legs, and she stares vacantly at the keys in front of her, her hands idly stroking the piano's casing. Warring with myself for half a minute, I hesitantly walk over to her, pausing once again before I decide to take a seat beside her. She doesn't react. The silences lingers as I swallow, trying to figure out something to say that isn't dumb.
Looking at her face, I try a careful: "You okay?"
Dude, that's probably the dumbest thing you could have said.
But she chases away any internal chastisement I'm about to give myself as she turns to me easily with a half-smile. "Yeah."
Any relief I feel at the sincerity of her small smile though is quickly dashed as she scoffs quietly and looks back down to the piano.
"No. Not really, not in general. Right now, in this very moment? Sure, I'll live. But in general?" She sighs, hunching forward like she did on the elevator, as if weighed down by the sky. "I'm more of a mess than even Gordon's bedroom."
I huff a single laugh at her attempt at humour, but quickly return to gazing at her sympathetically.
"You've already glimpsed a few times my mask has slipped, but I'll try and keep the full breakdowns to my bedroom."
"Hey, no," I interrupt. "Please don't hide that from us just for our sake. We want to help. That includes if you're having a breakdown. We'll help any way we can."
"You are helping," she lifts her head to smile warmly at me. "I can already tell you're all going to be a huge help, and I've only been here a few hours so far." She pauses then smiles shyly. "I think you're actually going to be the biggest help."
"Me?" Despite my best efforts, I can feel my ears start to heat up.
Her shrug is just as bashful as her smile but she forces herself to meet my eyes. "You're an artist," she explains simply. "I was worried I was going to be around engineers and scientists the whole time, geniuses to be sure, but often a little more…detached. I wouldn't change Brains for the world, but that he can't fully appreciate what I mean when I say music is my way of speaking can be...isolating, I guess."
My ears burn for a little longer before I laugh once. "Music as a way of speaking…. I never really thought of it like that."
She laughs, too. "Trust me, I think I'm even more honest with my music than I am with my words. You can absolutely tell my emotional state by whatever I'm playing at that time." She looks at me sidelong with a cheeky expression. "I'd be intrigued to hear what you thought I was feeling when I played what I did earlier."
I blink in surprise, but then press my lips together as I gaze down at the piano, contemplating how honest I should be with her. In the end, I decide to give her all of my thoughts, but I keep my eyes fixed on the piano.
"I thought you sounded…fragile. Not so much like you were desperately trying to cover stuff up with good memories or fake being fine, although there was a hint of that, but more that there was this constant undercurrent of something being wrong. Of…grief, maybe, and helplessness."
The silence after my spiel is agonising, and eventually I can't help but glance up at her again, and I can't help but frown guiltily at the disquiet in her wide eyes. She swallows as she quickly breaks eye contact to stare at the piano.
"Damn," she forces a laugh. "I kind of regret goading you now; you're good."
"I'm sorry," I mumble. "Maybe I should have at least sugar-coated it slightly."
"No, I'm…actually kind of glad you didn't. I'm just going to have to get used to being around someone who speaks the same language as me, and so fluently. I won't be able to hide, which is both terrifying and comforting. Mostly terrifying right now, but I think I'll settle into the comfort later."
"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me," I apologise.
She smiles. "I know, and I'm sure I won't. The exposure is just something I'll have to get used to." She takes a deep breath before smirking impishly at me. "Okay, your turn now; play something so I can psychoanalyse you."
"Alright, alright," I laugh, shuffling to sit where I need to on the stool. It's only at this point that my delayed shyness rears its head, and for a few seconds I'm completely clueless regarding what I should play. Alex doesn't seem to mind my unresponsiveness; as she just sits quietly next to me, I think she must know what I'm thinking, how I'm agonising over what sort of thing to say with this shared language we have. But eventually I settle on a piece I'd discovered a year or so ago, one that always felt like a deep cathartic sigh as I settled into a mental armchair. The same feeling rises up in me now as I lose myself in the music, falling almost into a trance before I blink and realise the piece has finished. I pull my hands back into my lap before glancing at Alex at my side. She breathes deep with eyes closed.
"I envy you, you know," she says, smiling gently despite her words, "for that deep-rooted contentment."
I fold my arms. "And you said I'm good. I couldn't even really find the words to describe why I liked that piece so much, and you just picked them straight up."
"When this is literally your life, you tend to get pretty fluent in it," she grins. "Besides, sometimes when we play, it's more opening the chute and letting it all pour out, rather than focusing on exactly what it is you're expressing."
"Hm, that sound familiar, now that you mention it."
We share a silent smile before she glances down shyly.
"Thanks, by the way," she murmurs, "for checking on me now."
I smile gently at her. "I wondered if you could use company. If it's ever the case that you actually do just want to be alone, please just tell me to shove off."
She chuckles. "I'll certainly let you know."
Companiable silence descends for a few moments before I grin again.
"We should get downstairs; who knows how long it could be before someone sets something on fire in the kitchen."
Alex laughs as she stands up from the stool and follows me to the stairs.
And there we go! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and the small insights you're getting into Alex's life and character. As always, please leave a review so I gage what you think, and also because it really helps writers to actually get some sort of feedback for their work.