Let Her Go: Chapter 3: Three Weeks later
Truly guys, amazing response! Deep love to everyone who reviewed and favorited! I've been out of town for a couple of days (yes Gina, a social life!) hence the slight delay on the update. And I'm spicing it up a little now - get this story going!
NB: I have never been to Mali. Secondly, don't be put off by the time jumps. Just follow the song lyrics and it will all make sense ;)
Three Weeks later…
Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
It wasn't Pakistan, but it felt strangely the same.
She knew that there were some definite similarities: some of the same crew – same reporter, camera man and liaison at CNN; similar temperature; similar sense of danger and excitement and electrified energy; similar reason for being there…
She was perched on the edge of the roof of the local house they were living in, sipping at a forbidden bottle of vodka one of the other crews had left them before moving on.
Looking out over the foreign marketplace, which was still busy enough for nearing eleven at night, she found a little comfort in the universality of small traditional cafes packed with locals drinking tea, and others who were stopping to chat in doorways and streets as they spotted friends.
This had been a tradition of her and Jim's back out East. At the end of a long day, in the hours before they were due to put in a live report, or when they had the luxury of a tape (after they had finished the editing) they would make their way back to whatever hotel they were at and chill on the balcony, people watching; taking in the culture and the day-to-day errands and hustle of the lives of others.
It was a strangely out of body experience, truth be told. Being a reporter was different from just working or living in a country. You didn't really try to settle or mould yourself around it, because you always had to retain some semblance of yourself, otherwise what are you there for? Sure, understand the customs and the culture, the religion and the language; they are essential to being a good, responsible reporter. But if you lose yourself then who are you speaking for?
Them – the people here? Your News corps back home? Your government or ideology? No. Mackenzie had always maintained that in order to be fair and truthful, you should never have to give yourself up. In fact, people may appreciate it more if you speak as you. Don't become a puppet or a robot or a middleman. Be human, and feel and think and question – argue, if need be.
She and Jim had debated the ethics of this for hours on end, never disagreeing exactly, but always coming up with some new things that made them reconsider their previous thoughts.
Yet, like before, she hypocritically felt that in spite of all the effort, you still leave something of yourself behind wherever you go. And she could feel the familiar feeling happening again. But what did she expect? She had run away to lose herself. Hadn't she?
The problem was, there was a massive chunk of her – maybe even larger than before – that was still back in New York. And she wasn't sure how to hang onto the rest of herself when she was already lost and broken. Scattered here and there amongst the places her father had moved them around when she was a kid, in the Middle East, in Manhattan. And now she would leave a piece of herself here whilst she struggled to maintain some semblance of who she knew she was or was supposed to be. In a way it was part of the perpetual struggle over who you are, but you are not really living if you're not fighting it.
There was a rustle behind her as Tom slipped through the open window and out to join her.
He had been amazing.
He had asked no questions when, eighteen days ago she had called up to ask about something that he had only briefly mentioned as a joke three weeks before then.
She and Jim had met him and a couple of other people from their old Peshawar crew who had just returned from Libya for drinks one night. Tom had jokingly asked if he would ever be able to steal her away again as his EP; she had laughed it off and told him she had her dream job here, thank you very much.
When she rang him up less than a month later, he simply accepted her response that she 'just needed a break'. But of course he must have known.
It had been all over the gossip rags and page 6 that first week. The face of the Media Elite and a high-flying Manhattan gossip columnist: Oh the irony! Hahaha, she thought bitterly.
But Tom hadn't said anything. And neither had any of the others. Just like before, they had her back.
She knew that they must have talked about it at some point when she wasn't around – there were only five of them here after all, and everyone needed a break from the politics at some point. She was just glad they hadn't known the first time around. She didn't think she could have handled it for three whole years stuck in the desert with few other people around them who spoke decent conversational English.
Everyone here was speaking in French - which had been a long trip down memory lane for her, but she picked it up again in no time at all. It was a little different from the streets of Brussels, though, where she had lived as a teenager for a year.
Back then she had been a wide-eyed, idealistic, intrinsically curious ball of energy. She was still all of those things, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she was loosing some of the glow that accompanied it the longer she tried to hang onto it. Everything fades, right?
Looking down at her now almost empty glass, eyes flickering briefly to the bottle next to her, her thoughts inevitably floated back to the journey home, which was suddenly looming larger now that she was at the half-way point.
The next two weeks seemed all at once too long, and yet far, far too short.
The idea that she would have to go back and face it all in fourteen days time was horrific, but she had a wry suspicion that she would say they same when there were only two days to go. She certainly didn't feel any better since she had had this same mental conversation ten days ago. The same mental conversation she had with herself every night, incidentally. She likened it to taking her temperature. Like she had a fever, and intermittently checked if it had gone down.
No luck yet.
On the other hand, she couldn't remember a time prior to the last three weeks when she had been away from Will for longer than 48 hours since being embedded. And in that sense, the fourteen days since and the fourteen still to come felt like a lifetime, even if right now she still just wanted to strangle him with his tie and scream at him for screwing everything up just when it had been starting to go right again.
Or maybe she had just been a complete fool.
She had this thought quite a lot too.
Maybe there had never really been any hope; just a ghost of something that had given the illusion of a resurrection.
And that was the thing. The real reason she was here.
Yes, okay, she was running. But it was more of a run around the block to clear her head rather than a run-for-as-long-and-as-far-as-you-can-until-where- you-are-has-no-resemblance-to-your-old-life.
She knew she was going back.
She just needed to sort her head out. Because she was unbelievably confused right now.
There were so many conflicting emotions chasing each other around her mind, playing the most ludicrous game of Tag there ever was.
Sometimes she was angry, at other times jealous, or spiteful – even hateful; guilty and lonely, hopeless and fierce, determined and vengeful. At all times she was just upset. The thing was these emotions violently switched between being directed at Will, Nina and herself. And there was no telling when they would switch.
She had needed to do this away from the knowing looks of her Newsroom staffers. Her team here knew, sure, but they didn't know. Not like the ACN team did. Her and Will's ACN team, who had borne witness to far too much of their shit than should be considered professional.
Yet she was terrified that they would think she was abandoning them (like she ever could); but she had known that if she had stayed then she would have lost it anyway and become useless to them.
She needed a plan.
She needed to sort herself out.
She needed everything to stop breaking.
She was a fixer. She liked to fix things. It's just that she wasn't all that good at it. She wasn't bad, but she didn't manage to pull it off every time - especially not the times when it really, really mattered.
She felt a hand on her cheek, and glanced over to see Tom looking out towards the desert on the outskirts of town, deliberately not looking at her, but letting her know he was there by wiping a stray tear that she hadn't even noticed from her face.
God, this was awful.
Still, at least it wasn't Maggie or Sloan. Jim, she could have handled, but she had needed her lieutenant to stay the course back home. He had offered, obviously – without a moment's hesitation and she had loved him for it. But she needed someone to keep the peace. Jim was always going to be that guy. Her adorably protective, goofy little brother, who just so happened to be as strong as steel where it counted.
Tom sent her an encouraging smile as he topped up her glass, raising his own and nodding to her. She just about managed a small smile back, deciding (as she had done every night so far) that just for an hour, she would stop thinking about her home and her dreams waiting for her four and a half thousand miles away.
But she needed a plan.
God, did she need a plan. Before it all slipped away for good.
Looking up at the clear sky, she raised her glass to her lips, poised to drink.
Somewhere she knew, over a darkening New York sky, Will McAvoy was living and breathing just the way she had left him.
She wondered if he was thinking about her too.
Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
Yes, part one! Part two is Will…shockingly ;) I guess this one's a bit different, but it was about time I got the plot going instead of just being spiteful. Would love to hear what you think! So so grateful for the support so far!
Thanks for reading :) Ax