(author's note: Sorry for the delay in picking this back up. The holidays were ridiculously stressful this year.)
She was feeling more alert and rested after another nap and another serving of food. The woman helped her manage the bowl and spoon since her own hands were occupied holding the book. It made her feel better to keep in physical contact with something (anything) familiar – even if it was a smelly, musty old book.
She silently hugged it to her chest and watched the goings on in the room. Every so often one of them would flash her a smile as they went about their business or they'd pause and say something to her. Sometimes she would nod in answer to their words but mostly she remained silent and still and simply watched them.
"You know, Kenz, I'm almost getting used to seeing you without all that makeup." The blond woman in the white coat had come back. "But I think I miss the eyeliner and mascara too. You look so much younger without it."
When the woman reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face, she tried to stay calm but the creeping fear was never truly held at bay and it liked to inch its way into her thoughts as often as possible. She felt the woman's cool fingers delicately trail across her forehead, staying as still as possible. Trying to decide if she should be grateful or afraid. So far the woman in the white coat had done nothing to hurt her but she still didn't have any intention of trusting her.
There was just the one man present – the one who had negotiated with the guard at the factory to purchase her. How pleased she had been then to see a light at the end of her horrific tunnel of a life and how surprised she had been to discover that light was her freedom rather than her death. Through the memory, she held onto the book as if it were her only lifeline. It really felt like it might be her only lifeline because she was having difficulty believing all that was happening to her.
"How's our patient?" That was the man's voice.
The woman in the white coat answered. "Better. Actually she's a lot better than I would have thought possible at this point. Kenzi's making a remarkable recovery, physically speaking. I just wish she'd say something to at least let us know if she can still speak at all." She smiled sadly. "But it's only been two days. There's still plenty of time. I spoke with a psychiatrist who's agreed to meet with Kenzi. She has an opening in her schedule tomorrow afternoon if it's alright for her to stop by here."
The man quickly nodded. "Of course."
"Maybe if Kenzi has someone who can help her sort through some of what's trapped in her head, well maybe she'll be able to find her voice." The woman in the coat patted the blanket gently. "You really are doing very well, Kenzi." The woman smiled at her once more before she stood and disappeared up the stairs.
"That's our Kenzi. Always defying the odds." The other woman, her anchor, spoke. "Um, Trick? You may lose a book."
"What?"
She watched the man approach, eyeing him closely in case he tried to make a move to take the volume from her. He smiled at her and nodded. "That's alright. You are beginning to remember aren't you, Kenzi? You're beginning to come back to us despite it all. If keeping that book will help you in any way, you're welcome to have it. I've got plenty more old books piled up around here."
She clutched the book just a little closer, not entirely trusting him although that niggling voice in the back of her mind kept trying to convince her that maybe he spoke truthfully. Gradually, she relaxed enough to open the cover again and stare down at the symbols that covered the pages beneath her fingertips. It was a code of sorts, one that she had some fleeting memory of having studied and deciphered before. Suddenly a memory splashed across her thoughts of old blueprints and school exams. She felt certain the memory was jumbled, it made no sense for the two to be connected.
With the cracked open book in her lap she looked around the room searching for the other items she suddenly desperately wanted. If she could recreate the experience she would know for a fact it was a true memory and not just wishful thinking. She bit her lip, not sure how to get what she wanted, not even sure where to look for what she wanted.
"Bo?" The man uttered the word but her eyes flew to the woman. Bo. Yes, Bo. How could she have forgotten that name? It didn't clear up much in her muddled mind, but it finally gave that tiny voice in her brain a name to latch onto. She saw the man nod toward her.
"What's up, Kenzi? Do you need something?"
She looked down at the opened book. She knew her fingers were becoming white-knuckled in her grip on the thing but she was desperate to try to find a way to communicate. She swallowed quickly and darted a glance around the room again.
"What do you want, Kenzi? Are you in pain? Do you need more medicine?"
A quick, tiny shake of her head stopped that line of questioning.
"Okay, not hurting. The book? It's something to do with the book." Bo sighed. "I'm not good at guessing games, Kenz. You need something for the book?"
A slow but definite nod.
"Okay." Bo knelt down in from of her. "It's something to do with the book. Something from how you used the book before?"
Another nod.
"You want to try to translate it again?"
She could feel her brow furrowing but nodded slowly.
"Trick! Do you have paper and a pencil?"
"Right here," the man quickly gathered the items together and handed them over.
With a need born of pure desperation, she tried to spread out the items in her lap so that she could sort through her memory and try to replicate it but there simply wasn't enough room. A table was quickly cleared off and carried closer to the couch and supportive pillows appeared behind her. Bending to her task with real determination, she blocked out the rest of the room and began the slow process of replicating the memories in her head to the paper beneath her hand. For some reason beyond her muddied comprehension, this one task was the most important thing she could complete.
oOo
Dinner was finished and they had left the restaurant, walking slowly along the rain drenched sidewalk in near silence. It was cold and Tamsin was less than thrilled to be wandering along in the damp iciness but the cold air was seeming to help clear her mind.
"I'm going to go check on Kenzi."
"Want some company?"
She shook her head, her mouth quirking. "I'm good. Think I'll walk a little first. Clear out the cobwebs."
Hale tipped his hat and continued walking with Dyson. Her departure from the two men was easier than she had expected.
She ducked down an alley, following the labyrinthine path it led her on. She knew these alleys almost better than she knew the roads, so many times had she found her way through them while tracking down one mark or another. She supposed she actually owed that knowledge to the Morrigan, odd though it was. Shaking off the irritation of having found anything useful in the dark leader, she continued on her way. She knew just how to get back to the factory from the restaurant and planned on wasting no time.
By the time she stopped at the door to the factory the black clouds overhead had finally decided to unleash a torrent of nearly frozen droplets on the city and the sight of the rain soaked alley refreshed her memory. Suddenly, her mind's eye was blinded by the horrifying memory of watching Kenzi determinedly move along the cold, wet concrete of the ground.
Tamsin found she was no longer cold despite the pouring rain and plummeting temperatures. Every cell of her body seemed to radiate blazing fire. Every pore in her skin steamed. White hot fury coursed through her in thick waves as she raised her hand to slam her fist against the metal reinforced door.
She waited, her anger growing, for someone to answer her.
to be continued...