This one took a while and I apologize for that! But for those who don't know, I actually started classes back last week so even though we're close to the end – so close! it's exciting! – there may be a jumble in the updates from here on out. I apologize for the inconvenience there, but so is life. I hope you all are able to enjoy the story all the same!
Special thanks to the support of analiarvb, secretlystephaniebrown, freshzombiewriter, washingtonstub, ephemeraltea, notatroll7, Yin, and WargishBoromirFan from ffnet, AO3 and tumblr!
New Jazz Age
Chapter Seven: The Great Escape
Her eyes shoot open and it takes Carolina several minutes to realize that the ceiling is familiar but simply not the ceiling she expects to wake up to.
Sensation returns to her quickly after that. It doesn't take too much to realize that her right leg is dangling off the side and sticking out from the blanket she is using for covers. Only the slightest movement plants her foot firmly on the carpet. Her arms are over her head and the harder than normal pillows behind them really aren't for sleeping.
Mostly because the couch itself isn't really for sleeping. At least not in the current arrangement.
Carolina takes a moment to gather her thoughts, to remember blearily coming in the door in the early hours of the morning, to a house that's both too quiet and too loud with snores she's frightfully unfamiliar with. To a room that's too full with people stewing and angry at her. And to a laundry machine that is running at a godawful hour.
And as soon as she remembers why she is on the couch, she regrets it.
Really, she should have kicked North out of her room after his stunt at her office the day before. And maybe York just for good measure, considering the flighty and awkward looks he gave her the entire time she and Theo were visiting with their comatose brother.
Should but didn't.
On her feet, Carolina picks up the bra and heels from the floor beside her, buttons up her collared shirt again, and ignores the terrible wrinkles in her best pair of slacks before picking them back off the floor and putting them on.
Basically operating on autopilot, she reaches back for the blanket and folds it neatly before putting it away in the chest that has been serving as the coffee table for far too long. Then she rearranges the throw pillows to a somewhat less disheveled arrangement.
Then, with her unworn garments folded over her forearm and her heels in hand, Carolina heads toward the stairs to exchange her clothes for the pair she needs to really start a new day.
There's a certain foreignness to her routine. It's jarring to see her room and closet and clothes from an unfamiliar angle in the morning. She's taken aback for a moment by it all, especially the sight of her occupied bed and North's neatly pressed clothes hanging at the door.
A vindictive thought crosses her mind momentarily, of taking those clothes and moving them somewhere unexpected like hanging inside the shower or down on the coat rack on the first floor. A prank that would have been too mild to be acceptable in military bunks – the three of them have survived much worse.
But Carolina manages to quickly vanquish the thought and move on with her day.
She puts away the clothes from the previous day, quickly grabs the first available outfit in her closet to start her new day, moves to the bathroom without stirring either one of her partners, and doing the bare minimums the morning requires.
No thick globs of makeup, no hours long hair treatment – just the touch of mascara and her usual ponytail.
In the back of her mind, Carolina knows that the dressed down, high casual look compared to her usual business acceptable appearance will be noticed by the hospital staff. And she knows that it's acceptable because the rumor mill no doubt has spread that her brother is now a patient and her personal business, so carefully guarded from every last staff member close and far to her, is now laid bare for the masses.
It will be thought she's upset and mourning and possibly more. And she hates that – she hates that show of weakness more than she hated getting the news of Ellison's accident.
And, just a little bit, she hates herself for that.
With a deep breath, Carolina picks up from her momentary pause of thought then heads back down the stairs, alone still in a quiet house.
Hopefully by the time she decides to come home that night, things will have worked themselves out with North and York and her. She won't have to address whatever it is that is bothering the two so immensely about her personal life – just the way she likes for things to resolve.
Her mind is already moving on to toast and eggs and wondering what ingredients they might have in the fridge – hot sauce, she prays – which leaves her open for the big surprise of hearing sizzling and smelling cooking food wafting through the hallway's air.
At first, stopping just outside the kitchen, Carolina's mind races, double checking with herself that she did really see North and York in bed. She doesn't even begin to suspect anyone else would be in the house cooking.
But the obvious answer hits her as she meets Theo's eyes.
Her half-brother is standing on one of the boxes from the living room that remains to be unpacked. Theo has one hand on the handle of the skillet and the other holding up the spatula in the other.
The eggs in the skillet interrupt their silence.
"Hey," Carolina forces out like it hurts.
"Morning," Theo replies, the sort of wakefulness that escapes Carolina clear in his voice. She almost envies it.
After the awkwardness carries on for another few seconds, Theo mercifully looks away from her and begins fiddling with the eggs in the skillet again.
Carolina releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding and moves directly toward the kitchen sink. It's too early to deal with any of this without her coffee.
Despite herself, Carolina feels her heart racing in her chest as she gets the coffee grounds and a filter from the cabinet.
A voice in the back of her head, that sounds suspiciously North-like, is trying to force her to face Theo. Trying to force her to have conversation with the middle schooler who she hasn't spoken to since he was seven. And she can't find the logic in that so she tries to quell it through concentrating on her coffeemaker.
The sounds of scraping and sizzling changes rather suddenly, drawing Carolina to look back and see that Theo is pouring the entire skillet of eggs onto a single plate he has next to the oven top.
She's never been hungrier for eggs than the moment she realized Theo had no intention of sharing.
Which may have meant she has spent too much time around York.
"You're up early," she breaks the ice with instead.
While Carolina mentally kicks herself for the feeble attempt at small talk, Theo raises a brow at her and reaches to turn off the stove.
"Yeah," he agrees. "North says he's going to take me to work with him today so I can talk to the school people about… whatever."
There is a touch of confusion as Carolina attempts to process the news, but she tries to not show it. Instead she nods in acceptance and leans back against the counter as her coffeemaker earns its keep.
"It could be boring spending the whole day at school without classes," she notes.
Theo shrugs, biting into a fork full of eggs. "It's boring with classes."
A smirk quirks on Carolina's lips as the water boils behind her. "Touche," she replies.
"I'm not going to be there all day, I don't think," Theo continues. "York's going to pick me up."
Even more confused by that statement, Carolina tilts her head. "In what? He doesn't drive?"
Looking scandalized himself, Theo tilts his head back in the same fashion. "Hedoesn't? That's weird," he says. "I dunno. He just made me promise not to tell North. Says we'll be playing hooky."
Squinting, Carolina reaches back for a mug from the drying rack on the sink. "Do people still say playing hooky?"
"No, we just skip," Theo replies. "I didn't want to break it to him."
"Yeah, the last thing we need is for him to have a midlife crisis right now," Carolina mutters. "You're not enrolled yet technically so York and you can have fun walking around town or whatever it is he does during the days, just don't take him as a role model or anything. Even North would be a better role model."
"Okay," Theo says, a mischievous note to his words. "So is it York or North'sporn in this box?"
Carolina nearly drops the coffee pot and scrambles to catch the mug after it. As soon as both are securely in her hands, she turns on her heels and stares at the box in question, taking note for the first time that it was old, ragged, and tearing at the corners enough to how the distressed magazine pages inside.
"I'm going to kill them," she says, as if she wasn't the one that thought leaving the box of their collective magazines from the military bunkers wasn't the heights of hilarity a few weeks ago.
Actually laughing, Theo drops down and sits on the box, putting the plate on his knees. "You guys need tables. And chairs."
"We're aware," she says flatly. "Theo… don't sit on that, come on."
The boy eyes her for a moment before reluctantly getting back to his feet. His shoulders draw up subtly and he stands awkwardly with his plate in hand, finishing the eggs left.
Carolina looks at him in confusion, wondering what has turned him so skittish. Her brain quickly trace over the conversation when she hesitates, remembering her own tone.
There is something uncomfortably familiar to it that she refuses to completely put a finger on.
Scratching at her jawline, Carolina attempts to think of a way to mend the apparently broken bridge between them. If only for the sake of finishing her coffee in peace.
"Have you and York talked about anything else?" she asks hopefully.
A flicker grows in Theo's eyes as he looks back at Carolina. "He really wants a dog. You guys already have a yard–"
She laughs around the edges of her coffee mug as she finally takes her first sip. "Mm, no. Tell him to shill you out for another request," she replies. "Other than dogs, anything on your mind?"
The words come out before she can really think over them, just thrown out to the winds without care. But the hurt in Theo's expression immediately lets her know just how much she's messed up in that moment. Her heart stops and she deflates in front of him.
"Just Ellison," he says.
"Oh, Theo, I mean…" Carolina stops herself because she's not even certain what she means.
"I'd like to go today," Theo continues. "But… North says it's good to do this other stuff first. Get me out some. But I don't think I'll forget any time today. So… I'd like to know how he's doing since you're going to be there with him."
"With him…" Carolina parrots.
"You are going today, right?" Theo asks, voice belying genuine concern for the answer.
"Yes," she answers quickly. "Yes, I am."
Theo puts away his plate, then Carolina finishes her coffee.
She doesn't bother with toast or anything else for breakfast.
Work is supposed to be the one place where Carolina's world fully aligns – where the people around her know exactly as much about her as is necessary, where the only evaluations of her that mattered were from her output inside of four walls.
Through painstaking effort, Carolina is certain that most of her coworkers knew only about her service to the country and not a thing more. And if they did know anything more – about living arrangements or family or anything – it was not from her, it was not more than a whisper.
She didn't get sympathetic looks from nurses. She didn't have people offering to eat lunch with her.
Carolina misses the world of fifty-two hours ago so much she wants to scream.
But more than missing when her coworkers ignored her existence, Carolina misses not having her attempts at working being constantly muddled by the egging concern in the back of her brain – the one that North or even York are thinking of her as some sort of monster. Or the one wondering just what the brother she barely knew is doing that day.
By the third time she is asked if she wants someone to bring her lunch up to her, Carolina reaches for her phone and makes a call.
She waits anxiously for the phone to pick up, not even sure there's going to be an answer when the phone picks up.
"Carolina?"
"North," she says flatly, voice devoid of the the genuine relief she feels having him answer her.
"I'm supervising a playground," he informs her, voice strained. "Is… everything alright?"
"I'm not a monster," she tells him. "I just… siblings are difficult. And… there's a lot that happened with my family. We're not a normal family. I don't know what I'm doing." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "I mean that in more ways than one. I don't know what I'm doing right now calling you either. I just. What you said yesterday–"
"Was out of line," he interrupts. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she answers. Then she thinks and amends, "No? I could be better."
Her chest is not as tight as it was before she called but Carolina kind of wants to scream and throw the phone across the room like a confused teenager who accidentally confessed something to their crush.
At least, that's how Carolina imagines they are. She never had much of a chance to act out being a teenager herself.
"Yeah," North breaks the silence without warning. "Siblings are hard."
For a moment, Carolina feels relief from the squeeze of anxiety around her. Her mouth trembles, searching for words she doesn't possess. Trying to formulate some semblance of a response.
She finds herself gracious that North doesn't end there.
"I haven't spoken to my sister – not really – not in months," North reveals. "What we do… it's not talking. I don't even know where she is in the world. Just that she's alive. And sometimes I hate myself because that feels like enough. And it shouldn't be. It shouldn't." He pauses. "That's why I get so angry, I think. Because I know what being a good brother looks like. I just don't know if I can do it anymore."
"Yeah," Carolina says dryly.
"Because I changed," he continues. "I changed, and you're right, I try to act like I haven't. All evidence to the contrary… But I have to try to make things normal. If I figure out what normal is, maybe I'll eventually get there."
Not a single platitude or condolence Carolina has ever heard before strikes her as truthfully, as close to the skin and bones that make her, as North's words now.
She wipes away tears before she knows she has them.
"I have to get these kids back in class," North continues. "But… we'll talk, alright? Later?"
"Yes," Carolina says. "Yes. And… North?" She bites her lip. "Thank you."
"Sure," he says softly then hangs up.
Carolina remains at her desk for another hour, pretending to do work like she's normal, too.
Despite, or perhaps even because of, the hospital's staff genuine sympathies toward her, Carolina's work piles up onto her desk for hours and hours. She can lose herself in them, but not entirely.
Not when each time someone stops by her door she looks up anxiously, expecting something other than condolences. Not when she's calculating the budget for the lab's supplies next month and she wonders how much printer toner is being used on Ellison's charts.
Rather suddenly, there is more to Carolina's life than the four walls around her and she feels like her person is bloated and exposed for all to see.
She's purposefully not allowed herself to be seen as so vulnerable for years.Maybe ever.
Finally, long after she has stopped being productive, Carolina leaves her office and without any fanfare leaves the lab to its own devices.
A few of the more necessary files are kept close to her chest as she enters her brother's room.
The ICU is either rarely not as cluttered as usual or Ellison's last name has gotten him some semblance of special treatment. She hopes because of herrelation rather than anything else that unfortunately comes with the Church name.
Still, it's relieving to be able to sit at the empty chair by her brother's side without another family around or the hum of someone else's vitals cluttering the backgrounds.
It's just Carolina and her brother.
Her brother she hasn't heard from in years. Hasn't seen in longer.
Ellison Church, her brother who almost died and hasn't woken up since.
Carolina balances the files over her knee but she never gets around to opening them. Instead, she puts her face in her hands and, in the muted light of her brother's hospital room, she unleashes a flood of emotions she wasn't even aware had been there all along.
Stuck in that chair, in that room, Carolina's more boxed in than she's ever felt inside of her office or the military.
She isn't expecting to be shaken awake. And she's really not expecting it to be North's hand she finds on her shoulder.
"Sorry," he whispers softly. "Worried about your neck."
Carolina blinks in confusion a few times, beginning to sit up only to feel the kink in her neck make itself known something awful. She automatically reaches up and feels along the lines of her skin tentatively. "Ow," she mouths.
North settles back in a chair that hadn't been there before, beside her own next to Ellison's bed. He folds his arms across his chest, apparently not caring to wrinkle the paisley shirt that is unbuttoned far more than how Carolina knowshe wears them to school.
He looks so tired.
"Long day?" she asks, looking back to her brother's bed and seeing not even the slightest difference from before.
"Yeah," he answers. "You?"
Humming a bit, Carolina leans back into her seat, mocking proper posture openly. "Longer," she answers.
North huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly at her constant need for competition.
There's a certain comfort to the level of their silence. She can't really think of the last time it was only her and North like this – not like yesterday where it may have only been the two of them in the room but they were far from alone, and the distance between them might have spanned entire oceans.
She settles back, lost in the moment and thinks no, it's much different today.
"I'm sorry about you and your sister," Carolina says like it's word vomit.
In response, North blinks a few times before glancing her way. "What?"
"You and your sister," Carolina clarifies, hoping her voice doesn't edge onannoyed as it tends to do. "I didn't know you two were having trouble talking. You never told me."
When she glances back to North she sees that his look to her is nothing short of incredulous.
"Are you complaining about me not telling you enough about my personal life?" he asks, almost sounding impressed. "Carolina, you know I have a sister."
"It wasn't something that came up before now," Carolina attempts to argue, the defense falling flat even to her own ears. She lets out a grunt and leans further into her chair. It's complicated."
North takes in her words, seemingly not passing judgment as he does so. He shifts his feet until his heels are all that's touching the floor and he arches back, tipping his chair with him. His eyes are distant in thought.
"If I'm being honest," he starts, "South and I haven't really spoken in years. But now she doesn't even want to answer a phone call. Just text. And it's a bit of a gambit whether or not she'll answer those outside of the regular hi and nightand still alive today." His eyes narrow slightly, their pale blueness not hiding the icy storm behind them. "The last real conversation we had wasn't talking so much as it was screaming. She said she couldn't imagine how I could do what I do. Said it'd be more humane to throw people to animals than to us." His eyes finally slide their gaze toward Carolina. Their hardness is striking. "I told her thatthat was why she wasn't chosen from our limit to go on… on the last tour."
He doesn't have to elaborate.
Carolina remembers better than anyone what they lost on that last mission, the one that cost their entire unit everything – supplies, health, soldiers, their sense of closure.
And all of it twenty hours after the war had officially ended. After papers had signed, when word was still trying to get out to all of them.
The most damning news of all was that they had fought and died for nothingthat day.
Yet it still couldn't beat what Carolina knows in her heart to be the worst thing she ever heard.
Taking a deep breath, Carolina took her turn. "We were not a happy family," she explains in hushed tones. "We weren't close – not that we were close and then drifted apart like you and South. We just… never were. Or maybe once it was possible to be. When I was a little girl and my brothers were just learning to walk. When my mom didn't die on a tour. Maybe. But the older I get the harder I find it to believe that."
North flattens his feet against the floor and sits upright. His full attention is on her, jaw squared and eyes still piercing. But there's no hardness to his gaze, there's interest and caution.
Like he's aware of how important the information about to be imparted to him is.
"My mom never came home and that left the three of us there with our… myfather," Carolina continues. "He was a very broken man, North. I don't think he ever bothered picking up the pieces after he lost my mother and that left me to deal with the twins." Her eyes flicker to Ellison on the bed. "With Alphonse and Ellison." She stops on her own words and processes them again. Tries to take whole new meaning – but it hurts. It hurts to remember the tiny faces that depended on her, it hurts to remember the resentment so freshly.
"Where's Alphonse now?" North asks, voice calm. Still, he hastily adds, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"He died," Carolina answers anyway. She's better at answering that part than she is about her living siblings. "While I was enlisted. He… My father was not a good parent to any of us. But he loved me." She looks tiredly to North. "I don't think he ever loved my brothers. And I left them with him. With him and the temporary replacement mother. Who the hell even knows where she is now."
Carolina looks back to her brother's hospital bed. Instinctively, she bites down on her lip, hard enough it begins to hurt, but the tears begin to come anyway. "God, that's what I always do, isn't it? Leave things when they get tough? Runaway from the problems the second I can. What the hell's wrong with me? How did I let things get to this point. I thought if I'm always at the center of these problems – least common denominator – things can just get better without me. I can come back later. I'm such… I'm such a child–"
She doesn't fight it when North takes hold of the arm of her chair and turns her toward him. He pulls her forward and wraps strong arms around her, squeezing so tight that Carolina's head sinks against his chest.
At first she doesn't know what to do, but as he holds her, Carolina's body melts against him and she sobs against his stupid pressed shirt. Her first thought isI'm going to ruin the fabric, and that's enough to make her choke out a laugh between sobs.
"What?" he asks, worry heavy in his voice. "What is it?"
"I'm ruining your shirt," she snorts against him. "Isn't that awful? I just… the first chance my brain gets, it runs onto the next subject."
North lets out a small laugh himself, his breath warm against her forehead. "That's okay," he assures her. "I'm pretty sure the mustard from lunch ruined this shirt before that."
"You're a mess," Carolina mutters against him, forcing herself to sober up even as sniffs and sobs run their course through her. "We're a mess. Everything about this whole damn situation is just a mess." She looks up at North, vision still bleary. "I didn't want you – either of you – to leave," she finally answers his ages old question. "I didn't want you and York to know – to judge me for leaving my family and all its chaos… for taking care of myself when it was the only thing I could do. I don't think either of you can understand that – that selfishness was probably the only thing keeping me alive."
He shakes his head. "You're wrong," he tells her simply. "If there's one thing Ican understand right now, it's making a selfish choice to keep yourself from drowning in all of the shit life throws at you."
As she looks into his eyes, as she feels the warmth in his arms, Carolina believes him. She believes him even more than she believed either him or York on the day they picked her up from the station.
Without thinking, without hesitating on it, she surges forward, grabbing North's head and pressing their lips together. It's a hard mesh, not gentle and led into but needy and hurtful and all the things that ground her in the moment. And North breathes against her, surging back and adjusting them both for the comfort Carolina's not seeking but doesn't resist one bit once having it.
Behind the kiss is a lot of things, but the only thing Carolina can think clearly on is the apology between them.
When it breaks, she doesn't look into his eyes, just lays her head firmly into his shoulder. Carolina feels when North's sharp chin sets against the back of her head and he leans back with her more into his chair than hers.
Carolina feels almost ready to spend the rest of the night that way – leaning on North and appreciating his presence and support among the relative quiet of machines humming.
Judging by how North relaxes against her, he is ready to stay there for her as long as she needs, too.
What they don't expect – can't expect – is when low noises, like a wheeze and the subtle escape of air from a tomb comes from the bed.
Almost immediately, Carolina is on her feet and walking to the bedside. "Ellison?" she asks, tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. "Ellison, are you awake?"
By the time she gets to his side, Carolina can see glassy green eyes, vacant and bloodshot, searching the room.
She crumbles a bit, immediately grabbing her brother's hand and giving a gentle press agains the mattress. "Ellison! It's… It's okay," she says, watching when his eyes finally lock with hers. "It's me. It's… It's Caroline. I'm here, okay? I'm here."
There's recognition there for a moment as Ellison goes through the gambit of emotions. His mouth, not working quite right, lets out more noise that forms nothing. But his hand presses back against hers.
With her free hand, Carolina wipes at her eyes, laughter she's not expecting bubbling out of her.
"I'll get a nurse," North whispers to her as he stands by them for a moment. He lingers, long enough to brush hair over Carolina's ear and lean in for a chaste kiss against her temple.
Words fail Carolina, but in that moment she doesn't need them. North goes to do as he said, and Carolina basks in the attention of the brother she hasn't lost.