With profound relief, Simone closed her office door behind her. The solid wood warm against her back, she leaned against the door. A quick glance at her watch
(plenty of time, another hour until Michael gets here. And with as long as Annabelle was up today, she won't wake again until morning)
and after ensuring the door was locked, Simone headed to her desk. The spare set of scrubs she dropped carelessly on the couch, and the injector and packet of Memoral went tucked inside her desk.
(Always amazed how easy it is to sign that out…anything I'm forgetting to do? Apprised Baxter of Annabelle's current condition, Kristen is off tonight and I'm not on call. There won't be any interruptions)
Simone sighed heavily.
(It's time then. Do it before he gets here.)
With a brief turn in her chair, Simone picked up the picture she had placed face down earlier. Removing the picture from the frame, she placed it on her desk, tossing the frame to the side. Then, pressing her thumb to a small, innocuous wood colored plate by her knee, she said to the empty air,
"Unlock, authorization Simone. Verify voice command and bio-lock. Confirm".
A female voice replied,
"Confirmed. Voice and bio-lock authentication."
With that, a section of her desktop sprung up. Removing the leather bound ledger from the secret compartment, she pressed the panel back down. Locked again, the seams were invisible to the naked eye.
(Handy that)
Opening the thick journal, the pages ruffled through her fingers as she searched for her place. Her own past tugged at her fingers, the edges of pictures, diagrams, and handwritten entries catching her eye for a second before flowing away. Finally finding the creamy, perfectly blank page, she took up her pen. The heavy paper catching at her fingertips, she slowly began to write.
My Darling Belle,
I'm at the end. Now that I'm here, I know what I want to say but not how to say it exactly. Ironic for a former Literature professor.
You woke up yesterday, finally, from the last two years. I was there when you woke, saw your beautiful blue eyes open. I was there, but it turns out you weren't. You aren't there Belle, and after a day, you're still gone. I've given up hope that you're coming back.
I've made a decision, one that I'm sure you would disagree with. God, I even miss fighting with you, we had some spectacular fights didn't we? You never gave an inch and neither did I, but somehow we still managed to meet in the middle.
There's no middle ground here Belle. I simply can't live without you, nor do I want to. You're the love of my life. My soulmate. And I failed you. I failed them. I'm so, so sorry baby. I'm so sorry. Perhaps it's God's small consolation through this hell that you won't remember them. I've chosen to remember as long as I can, that will be the last of the four treatments. I'll keep them, and you, with me until the end.
Michael will be here soon with the Sacriset. Combined with the Memoral, it will first strip the emotional context from my memories, give me time to help my patient, my Imprint, Annabelle T. Tillman, recover. I've almost fallen apart every minute since you woke, and I can't do that. There are side-effects, and once I start the series, I can't turn back.
The first treatment is always the most difficult. It has to be extremely traumatic, and acts as an anchor for the rest of the series.
It has to be that night. When they took me from you. Good news is that I'll only have to remember it one more time, tonight, with Michael watching over me. Bad news is that there will be no waking from that nightmare, not until the memory has run its course. Sacriset is an accentuator as well, so everything is guaranteed to be crystal clear. I just won't be able to wake up. After all the nights where you held me, that time of my life will finally be done. Who knew it would only take a deadly drug combination to end that torment?
I'm sorry; please believe that I'm not taking this lightly. I'm not, and the choice before me is clear. The combination of Memoral and Sacriset will kill me. There's no way to stop the chemical progression once it's injected. Contextual emotion goes first, then my memories will gradually be destroyed by the drug, until my brain forgets how to breathe. Or tell my heart how to beat. Patients have told me before it doesn't hurt, but is like sinking into a fog bank. Soft and quiet, and it will happen over a period of months instead of years.
It is a choice I alone have made.
My one regret is that soon, I won't be able to feel you anymore. I won't be able to feel anything. Facts I will remember for a time, facts will remain. And this is The Fact, The Truth, burned past thought, into who I am:
There is no end, no limit, to my love for you. I've loved you through the distance of your dreams, through my own madness, across countries and time. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please don't ever doubt that.
It's getting late now, and Michael will be here soon. There's so much I still wish I could tell you. I miss our porch time, when we talked about everything and nothing. I miss you so much.
I love you.
A soft thump sounded through the office as Simone closed the book. Tracing the smiling faces in the photograph, she blinked back tears and suddenly slipped it into the book. Placing the journal back into the compartment, she clicked the lid shut, caressing the solid wood.
(Done. It's done.)
She was unaware of how much time had passed when a knock rapped on the door. The bolt slid back cleanly as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Hello Michael"
-
(Shit, should I tell her? Shouldn't take too long, gotta keep it together. I remember the taxi, bargirl at Charlie's, went out back…next thing I'm here…)
blood in the sink, scrubbing blood from under his fingernails
(...keep it together Mikey!)
Michael's eyes flicked uneasily around the office as he shuffled past Simone. In truth, he had missed visiting Simone at the hospital; her call this morning had come as a welcome surprise. Usually her presence and the dim lighting of the office was always soothing to him, a rarity in his world.
Not tonight.
He had been wired ever since their earlier meeting, to the point where out of desperation he finally took a little something to calm down.
(which didn't work. Fuck, I feel like shit scraped over asphalt)
Trying to ignore the muttering in his head,
(go away!)
he eased onto the leather couch and gingerly settled back. With his nerves raw, Michael almost jumped up as the door bolt clacked into place.
His misery was interrupted as Simone turned, retrieved something from the desk, and crossed over to him.
(Beautiful as the day I met her)
A spike of pain shot through his temple.
(When YOU met her? I saw her first!)
Michael gritted his teeth and slapped the voice away. His worn knapsack clutched in one hand, he watched her grab a chair and sit across from him. He idly noted the gold halo outlining her, cast by a nearby lamp.
(An angel)
Watching her place the injector and Memoral on the nearby table, he swallowed hard.
(Or devil. She's certainly been both)
A mental image was suddenly forced into his mind; Simone writhing naked beneath him, her golden skin shimmering under his thrusting body. The vision continued with her head thrown back in ecstasy, groaning out his name
"Michael! Oh yes, Michael! I love you! Yes! Fuck me, fuck me!"
as he drove deeper into her. Her legs clamped around him, and soft, feathered wings brushed along his sides while folding the two of them closer together.
A soft voice wove through his brain.
(Or Mikey, she could be like this…)
The angel was gone, darkness in her place. Golden curls fell gorgeously around wine-reddened lips, the goblet still twirling from a lazy hand. Simone studied him, bare legs crossed as she reclined in the overstuffed, dark brown leather chair. Black silk caressed and kissed a path down her body, and the shirt flowed over a perfect shoulder while baring the other for his perusal. Inching below her hips, it hinted at Paradise barely concealed.
(But Mikey, there's always HER…)
Hands flowed over this Simone's shoulders, caressing, lingering. Annabelle stepped out from behind the high backed chair, trailing her fingers over Simone's exposed skin as she walked around and captured those perfect lips in a brief kiss. Standing again, Annabelle smirked at him while playing with the silk between her fingers. To his frustration, Simone spread her legs wide right as Annabelle sat between them, leaning back against Simone and facing Michael. As Simone linked her arms around Annabelle's waist he could feel his pulse hammering in rage. He clenched his fists as they both looked at him with amusement.
(Poor Mikey. You know what they deserve, what they've earned)
(No! It was her choice…)
The voice grew louder as the two women began to laugh, pointing their fingers at him.
(Choice? There was no choice! That fucking girl, that perverted TEENAGER for fuck's sake, stole her from you! Simone's yours Mikey, she always has been. She needs to be reminded Mikey. She needs to be taught. They both do)
The voice now softly crooning to him, with glazed eyes Michael caressed the vial secreted in his pocket.
(It will be so easy Mikey, a little something extra in the cocktail)
(I can't)
(She'll be yours again Mikey, like she was always meant to be. Why let her kill herself? You know she'll be happy with you. She was happy with you once…just…remind her)
(I won't!)
The voice lashed through his head, and made his eyes water in pain.
(YOU WILL YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU'LL DO WHAT I FUCKING TELL YOU TO DO!)
Michael was suddenly aware that Simone had been speaking, and was now eyeing him quizzically.
"Michael?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I, uh, I'm listening"
Leaning forward in her chair, she cocked her head and studied him intently. Coming to a conclusion, she leaned back again, frowning and crossing her arms.
"Oh Christ Michael, what are you on?"
Opening his mouth, Michael was horrified to find that he couldn't speak.
(Simone, oh fuck me, I'm in control! This is my body, I control what happens! Oh my God this can't be happening, I only needed a little bit…)
A voice sing-songed through his thoughts
(Little bit, little bit, she don't know what she wants! Mikey, Mikey, SHE can't HEAR you! It's only us in here Mikey, it's ALWAYS only been us…you know NOTHING can truly separate us…little bit, little bit)
Jaw clenched, he tried to ignore the mocking laughter ringing in his ears.
Her stare now irritated, Simone waved away his silent effort of aborted explanation.
"Let me rephrase. I don't care what you're on as long as it doesn't interfere with tonight. Will it interfere Michael?"
Vicious laughter suddenly filled Michael's thoughts, and he fought jerkily against the Other's will as his head shook side to side.
(Oh yes Mikey, tell her how you'll INTERFERE with her plans! Little bitch is going to get more than she ever bargained for!)
(No! She needs my help! Go away!)
(Oh, you'll help her alright Mikey. You'll slip her all the help she'll ever NEED! Little bit, little bit, I know what you want…)
(No dammit! Oh please don't do this! She's my friend, she needs…)
(What she needs Mikey, is for you to go take a nap like a good little boy. My turn.)
Screaming and scrabbling inwardly, Michael fell away.
His best good 'ol boy expression firmly in place, Michael looked up at Simone. Eyes glinting with tears, he added a quaver to his voice.
"No Simone, I just needed a pick me up. This…this is hard for me too you know. I'm not going to lie…Annabelle and I were never friends, and now she's awake…I guess I just hoped…"
and hung his head with an unseen smile.
(So easy)
A light touch on his knee let him know she had fallen for it. He looked up into her apologetic face, barely able to keep from laughing.
"I'm sorry Michael, I guess we're both on edge tonight."
(Oh precious, you have no idea. Come to daddy)
Setting her glasses on the table, Simone rubbed her eyes wearily. "I thought that area would be the best, since we'll need the space" she said, motioning to the open area behind the couch. "You brought the Sacriset?"
Michael nodded. "Yep, you are one lucky lady. Took all of my persuasion skills."
The face of the little man, spitting out blood from torn lips, the vial offered in a trembling hand…"Please!"
Taking his hand in hers, Simone smiled to him, "Thank you Michael, thank you. Words can't express my gratitude". He could see her visibly gathering herself
(Sooo easy)
and watched as she finally stood. He could barely keep his eagerness in check.
(soon)
Holding out her hand to him, she said, "shall we"?
A solemn face showing, Michael took her hand and followed her deeper into the office.
(Oh yes. We shall indeed)
A full fledged grin crossed his face, unseen by the woman in front of him.
(you're mine)