Eve's eyelids, tightly shut, shuddered and twitched like moth's wings until they slowly began to part. Her skin a pale alabaster-white, she peered out upon the world and was immediately overcome by fatigue.
Her breathing quickly became sporadic as flat pain fluctuated throughout her sore, sweaty body. Tensing her achy muscles, Eve realized that her body was being weighed down by thick, slightly damp bedsheets, while her head was held aloft by a single, plush pillow.
Questions darted to the forefront of her mind as she lie there, icy blood pumping through her veins.
'It felt so real… Was… was it just a dream?' Her mind gasped, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light around her.
She was lying in near darkness, which was further obscured by the blurriness in her tired eyes. Soon enough though her eyes did adjust and her periwinkle spheres met a stucco ceiling.
Eve sucked in air as a chill ran over her skin. She didn't recognize the ceiling. This wasn't a room she knew.
Restlessly she began to wriggle to a seated position where she could cast her eyes about.
Still disoriented, her eyes flew over the foreign queen sized bed she was resting in and over to a sliding closet on her right. With her heavy breathing drawing sharp jabs of pain to her chest, she hastily threw her eyes to her left.
Eve held her breath; she was shocked. "Petunia," she croaked, her throat stinging with pain.
"You've been out for a couple days." Petunia said, her voice vacant.
Eve was struggling to get a clear look at her under the nonexistent lighting of the room, but something about the way her form was slumped over made Eve uncomfortable.
Wearing a plain gray hoodie and blue jeans she sat in a white wooden chair staring at the floor. Her tongue was clearly squirming in her mouth and her cheeks grew and shrank as she sat staring at the floor. "You were unconscious when you hit the water; we almost thought you went into a coma."
Eve shrank slightly. Pain coursed through her chest as her suspicions were confirmed. Her cold fingers grasping the covers she dropped her eyes back to the bedspread. "Where are we?" Her eyes losing themselves in the floral pattern of the bedspread.
There was a short, cold silence as Eve waited for a response.
"Did you know?" Petunia's voice cracking dryly as she sat there, still staring at floor.
A second pain coursed through Eve. She quickly whipped her gaze back to Petunia and looked at her in disbelief. "What?"
Petunia shut her eyes, grit her teeth, and calmly stooped down to the floor. When she rose back into her seat she was firmly grasping her shotgun. Placing the weapon across her lap she made it clear that she was no longer herself. "You were with him almost every day; you were closer to him than anyone else. Did you know?"
Pain began to well in Eve's mind.
"No." She whimpered.
"Don't lie, you knew more about him than both me and Tyrian." The metal of Petunia's weapon lightly rattling beneath her crushing grip. "You never once suspected him?" Her question coming across in a shaky whisper.
Eve fell silent as Petunia's words sunk into her like knives.
"No." Harsh pain coursed into her eyes and came out in the form of tears, which quickly trickled down her cheeks. "I never suspected him of anything."
Petunia's scared eyes fell upon Eve and then softened into an infuriated glare as she watched her cry. A cold scowl on her face Petunia leaned forward in her chair. "Don't make any loud noise; the neighbors don't know we're here."
Eve's crying weakened for a moment. "Where are we? How did we get here?"
"This is my place." Petunia softly replied. "After the traitor shot us off that fucking cliff we managed to swim to shore. My place wasn't too far from the coast, so we came here." Petunia's eyes hatefully dug into a rusted patch on her gun.
"How did we survive?" Eve croaked, barely holding back her misery. "Aut…He… he shot us."
Petunia gave a small sigh. "The traitor used the wrong ammo… he must've mixed up his magazines." Getting to her feet she made for the door directly behind her. "Bathroom is the first door on the left; Kitchen and living room are out on the right. Don't go in the room at the end of the hall, and don't leave the apartment without a disguise. Every cop in Vale is looking for us." Petunia pulled the door open and took her first step out.
"Petunia," Eve whimpered, stopping Petunia in her tracks.
Slowly, Petunia turned to look back at her. Her expression devoid of everything that reminded Eve of Petunia.
"I should've known… I should've known him better."
There was silence.
"None of us knew him, not even you." Petunia's voice dry as she stepped out and gently closed the door.
Air burst out of Eve's mouth in a sob. A hand darting to her mouth she slowly laid back in the soft bed and let tears pour from her eyes.
'This is my fault…' Another soft sob burst from Eve's mouth. Her eyes plastered to the stucco ceiling she slowly began to question everything she thought she knew about Automne. Her body aching and trembling beneath soft sheets.
Petunia let out a soft sigh. Her back pressed up against the main bedroom door she could just make out Eve's faint sobs. Hastily sucking back wet mucus she ran her hand over her mouth. 'Damnit!' She thought, pain rolling out from a round bruise on the right side of her face.
There wasn't just one bruise though; there were three bruises. Each with its own epicenter that incrementally trailed up from her throat to her forehead. The darkest of purples and blues had come to each and were now fading, but each one burned like she had just received them moments ago.
Pain still rolling out of her bruises she gave a heavy sigh and took a step forward in the short hallway. After a couple paces she took a sharp right and stepped out into a charming, little living room. "She's awake." Petunia's voice aimed at Ty.
Sitting upon Petunia's spring green couch, blankets and pillows strewn across it, he shot a tired glare towards her. "Her fever die down?" A couple faint bruises visible upon his forehead.
"I didn't check." Petunia replied, walking over to a green armchair and planting herself into it. Tossing her shotgun to the carpet she pressed her fingers into her eyes. "I asked her if she knew."
Ty moved his eyes to the hallway. "What'd she say?"
"She said she didn't know."
"Do you believe her?" His question a hoarse whisper.
Petunia let her fingers fall off her face as she let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know… I think we can believe her, but for all we know she could be working with him."
Ty gave a soft sigh, his eyes still fixed on the hallway's entrance. "Do you want me to go talk to her?"
"No, she needs some privacy right now."
There was a brief silence between the two.
Her mind wandering aimlessly, Petunia's tired eye rested upon the dusty carpet while Ty's gaze flipped back to her.
"You all right?"
"Question of the fuckin' year right there." Petunia snapped softly, life and energy dying at the back of her eyes. Sniffing the stale apartment air – which faintly stank of mold and potpourri – Petunia slowly shifted her gaze back to Ty. She scanned him for a moment, her magenta tinted windows picking him and his cheap, unkempt outfit apart. "I'm swell man, really fuckin' great."
Pushing aside some blankets Ty slid across the couch with a sympathetic frown on his face. "Look, I know we just went through a lot, but right now we need to focus-"
"Can we not talk about this for like five Dust-damn minutes?" Petunia said, her eyes shutting tightly and her hand giving a fatigued, dismissive wave. She also made to run her other hand over her face, but before her palm met her sensitive skin, she instead opted to curl it into a fist.
"Petunia, we can't just sit back because Automne betr-"
"Can you not fucking say his name?" Petunia's eyes jolting open at the mention of Automne. "I don't want to talk about this right now."
"Baula is planning a coup!" Ty hissed, his voice threatening to leave a whisper.
A furious scowl had grown across Ty's face. It was clear to Petunia that he was exercising a great deal of patience with her. Unlike Petunia Ty did not appear as a shadow of himself, but rather an accumulation of all his worst traits. From his scalding stare and gritted teeth to the way he was barely suppressing his emotions, he had become quite the unpleasant sight.
"Baula and his lackeys think we're dead. We can't just lay back and stew in our mental shit while they carve up Vale and take it for themselves." Ty's chest rising and falling beneath his thick, gray trench coat. Growing intolerant, he shot his eyes towards Petunia's shotgun. Looking back to her he pointed at the weapon. In a shaky, restrained whisper he said, "I did not spend five hours yesterday looking for our weapons in the Bay of Vale looking just so we could give up now."
"Tyrian, I said I don't want to talk about this." Petunia insisted, her expression becoming increasingly uneasy
"Yeah, instead let's sit back and talk about our feelings. Petunia, we have a job to do, so put aside whatever mental hang-ups you have and get back on those servers and find us something useful we can use."
"I told you already, they were feeding us bread-crumbs. They handed us all of that information." Petunia said, her full attention aimed at Ty.
"Then look somewhere else." Ty quietly demanded. "You found multiple properties across the city that belonged to them. Hack them and try finding out if they're at those locations."
"If they have half the security the main servers did they'll track us right back here."
"Because hiding in this stupid little apartment is more important than stopping a terrorist."
"We wouldn't be hiding if you knew shit about your damn partner, Tyrian!" Petunia lashed out, her volume almost rising past a normal indoor speaking voice.
The only thing that followed for a short period was breathing. Loudly Petunia drew in air, drowning out the sound of Ty's uneven breathing. Her chest expanding only to collapse back in towards her. With pursed lips and furious, watery eyes she glared at Ty spitefully.
"I'm going out." Ty mumbled, rising from the couch. With his back to Petunia he stopped at the far side of the couch and picked up his weapon. Tucking it away in his long jacket he made for the door. "I'm going to look for leads."
Still struggling to steady her breathing Petunia snapped at the boy. "If you get in trouble, don't even think about coming back here."
At that Ty silently slipped out the front door.
Slowly air passed from Petunia's mouth in choppy little pants. The moments passing she found her stomach twisted into a ball of frustration while her brain teetered about wildly. Scooting back in her armchair, so she could be welcomed in its embrace, she pressed both palms to her eyes. Grinding her teeth through dull, constant pain she grinded her palms against her eyes furiously.
Lurching forward, her palms still blinding her from the world, she took in a small breath and let out a noise one could mistake for a sob.
Automne briskly walked down a drab office like hallway. His hands hurriedly straightening out his clothes as he strode towards a single white metal door. Drawing in a calming breath he stepped up to the matte entryway and lightly knocked on the door to his room.
"Enter," A familiar female voice, which one could mistake as flinty and unwelcoming, said from within.
'Doesn't get much homier than this.' Automne's brain casually remarked. Unfortunately though, this quick, flippant remark threw his entire straight-faced demeanor out of his ear like a candy-bar wrapper, forcing him to redo his entire mental preparation ritual. After all, if experience had taught him anything, it was that he couldn't face Baula without some mental fortification.
'It's fine; he probably just wants to go over plans, or something like that. You're not in any trouble.'
"I said, enter." The same mistakably rigid voice on the other side of the door said, losing a clear amount of its warmth.
Automne gave a small sigh and rolled his eyes. 'Some things just don't change. I mean honestly, you can practically feel the love.' Automne said internally. Taking the silver doorknob in hand he pushed in the door.
His eyes immediately rose to the center of the plain, white, windowless room. On both the left and the right sides of the room, matching twin sized beds sat pushed against the walls. At the end of the bed's gray metal frames, metal militaristic footlockers sat with the names "Noire" and "Tänzerin" scrawled onto them. All this, including the thin, pasty white office walls, produced a strange aura beneath the bright fluorescent office lights. Even the only brightly colored objects in the room– the olive wool military blankets tucked tightly into the beds – glowed a sickening green beneath the droning fluorescent bulbs.
After years of being in this room though none of those things harmed Automne in this moment. At the moment though, something was disturbed within the room, which is to say something foreign was added. Slightly off to the right, on Sienaerde's half of the room, a folding table had been erected. There were even a couple of folding chairs on either of its long sides. And at the table's closest corner stood Sienaerde.
"Good evening, Automne." Sienaerde said, her countenance confusing Automne.
"Good evening…" Automne somewhat lost in her appearance, or rather her presence; he wasn't all too sure. Her shoulders were slackened, most of the buttons of her jacket were undone, and her usually void-like eyes were holding a pleasant energy. Even her aura felt strangely soft to Automne, but aside from all that there was still something alluding his comprehension.
"I apologize for deceiving you, but Baula did not want to speak with us." With a small exhale Sienaerde stepped to the side to reveal a fancy, short bottle of rum resting on the table along-side a couple of small drinking glasses. She dropped her eyes to the floor and allowed Automne to examine the table and everything it implied. "Over the past year I have been deliberately cruel towards you, especially after you and I arrived at Beacon. And I realize it may be in poor taste to celebrate before we have sealed our victory, but despite the difficulties the two of us successfully completed our roles. So, I feel apologies and a celebration are in order."
Automne stared at the gold bottle of rum resting upon the table. With a disappointed expression he looked at Sienaerde. "So, I take it you're giving up on your sobriety."
A bit of liveliness vanished from Sienaerde. She turned to glare at the bottle herself, shame and a bit of fear flashing in her eyes. "I am not forgoing my sobriety as a means to dull my senses. I have abandoned those habits indefinitely." Energy flickered in her eyes as she hesitantly averted her gaze from her old enemy. Slowly, she made her way to the right side of the table, confidence in her stride.
"It was a self-induced sickness that I am now cured of." Completely unbuttoning her jacket she gracefully slid it off her lean frame to reveal her plain, off-white button up. Pulling her chair towards her with her foot, she draped her jacket over the back and seated herself. "That said," A weak smile on her face. "I do not see an indelible issue arising from a simple indulgence."
"You know I'm not okay with that answer." Automne now sullen and serious as he stared her down with unfaltering worry.
Sienaerde raised her gaze to meet his and recoiled a bit. She lowered her gaze to the table and lightly scratched at its plastic surface. "I've been sleeping easier lately. And the nightmares are far less frequent. I finally feel like I'm in control again… I don't want to feel numb anymore… and if anything, this only stands to reinforce that." Tentatively, Sienaerde reached over to the bottle and took it by its neck. She looked it over, a slight somberness distant in her optimistic eyes. "I never cared for the taste of alcohol; I didn't even particularly like the feelings that came along with it. This occasion however… It feels appropriate."
Sienaerde glanced up at Automne, who still stood back with his arms crossed and doubt still lingering upon his face. Affected, Sienaerde lowered her gaze back to the bottle and gave a saddened sigh. "I never did try it without the… pills… for all I know, it tastes even worse than I remember." An amused smile flashed upon Sienaerde's face. Still holding the bottle by the neck, she firmly planted it on the other side of the table.
"As self-assured as I am," Sienaerde sighed as she released the neck of the bottle. "I'll leave this up to you." Laying her hand back in her lap she turned to Automne and gave him a genuine smile. "You're the one who helped me get sober in the first place, I'll let you decide if I'm… ready."
Automne gave a heavy sigh, his eyes flitting between Sienaerde and the bottle of alcohol. His eyes darted between his partner and the poison a dozen times; attacking the issue with multiple lines of logic and emotion until he was able to muster some semblance of a conclusion. With one last unsure breath he unfolded his arms and walked over to the table. Taking the bottle by its neck he slowly eased himself into his chair. "Asking someone for permission to relapse is honestly one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of." Automne scoffed, his eyes carefully examining the bottle and all its intricacies.
"I'm not asking for permission, I just trust your judgement." Sienaerde calmly replied, watching Automne all the while.
A drop of warmth flowed through Automne, making it difficult for him to not smile. "Of course you do, but seriously where did you even get this?" Automne said, a bemused smile on his face as he examined the underside of the bottle.
"It was a gift."
"Ah, of course," Automne quipped, nodding his head as if the idea of gifting rum to an alcoholic was a good idea. "Should've been my first guess. What else did they give you, a hip flask and your own distillery?"
"Sadly, no." She replied, a joyful smirk on her lips. Casually she raised her hands to her chocolate hair and with a couple simple moves undid the tight bun holding back her brown locks.
Automne, who was occasionally shifting his gaze between the bottle and Sienaerde, stopped abruptly to look at her in surprise. A smile worked its way onto his face as he watched her push her bangs to the sides and gracefully tuck hair behind her ear. "Huh." Automne said a bit too loud to go unnoticed.
"What is it?"
"I dunno, it's just… You've been a lot less acerbic lately and a lot more… congenial." Automne said uncertainly, a warm smile now resting on his face as he looked her over again.
Slightly taken aback Sienaerde let out a soft chuckle. "You've been using that dictionary I gave you."
"It was a birthday present," Automne shrugged, setting the bottle on the table. "I wasn't just going to let it gather dust."
Inching forward in her seat Sienaerde placed her fingers around the rim of her unused glass and began to roll it around on its base. "I'm sorry about how I delivered it to you. I could have found a more opportune time."
"It's alright," Automne said, smiling hard. "I was swamped with work that day. It was a nice surprise to get your gift in the middle of a bad birthday."
A small frown diluted Sienaerde's warmth. "I'm sorry to hear that it didn't go well."
"It wasn't so bad." Automne's smile becoming weighed down as he ran through his memories. "When Eve found out that she missed my birthday she threw a fit." Automne's smile quickly vanished as the events of his 'Make-up Birthday' slowly walked through his mind. "Ended up running all around Vale with her, just eating food and laughing at stupid stuff. It made up for the bad day." Automne said. Mindlessly he ground his thumb into the table whilst Eve, given life through his memories, painfully sat herself in the forefront of his brain.
Her simple smile and her warmth torturing him.
"Were you two romantic?"
Automne paused for a moment as the initial shock of the question hit him. It was somewhat like getting hit with a baseball; it hurt, but it was acute, and he knew it would weaken eventually. "No," His response dry. He quickly, but nervously, looked up at Sienaerde.
Her smile was gone and she looked tired as she disinterestedly played with her glass.
He knew she was doubting him. Evaluating all the decisions he had made, and judging him for getting too close to his teammates when he knew better. In her mind, he had no right to feel guilty. And as justified as all that was in Automne's own mind it was infuriating to know she was right.
"They were my cover." Automne said dismissively. "They stood in the way of our mission; they threatened to ruin everything." Automne's voice growing uneasy, he quickly began to cycle through options on how to change the subject.
And then a simple one crossed his mind.
Swiftly Automne's eyes darted to the gold bottle and, seconds later, so did his hand. Taking it by the neck he pulled the cork from its mouth with a loud pop. "You said you trust me to make the right decision, well I think we can both agree to a toast." His voice slightly pained as he took his glass and filled an eighth of the short container with the golden liquid.
Sienaerde looked at him with concern. For a moment she drew her glass back in towards herself, but then her expression softened and she extended the glass to him, placid.
Taking her glass he tilted the bottle forward to begin pouring it, but hesitated when he realized what he was about to do.
'What about her…'
His eyes narrowed as he focused on the objects.
'She's two years sober…'
Slowly, he began to tilt the bottle back.
'I was about to ruin that.' After lowering the objects back to the table he found himself unable to move. He was paralyzed with shame.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, his ears stinging from his own words.
Sienaerde let out a long, cold sigh. Her eyes held on his filled glass. "What were you going to toast to?"
Automne let out a soft exhale.
"I was going to toast to all the people lost to the Grimm." Automne's eyes pooling tears as he thought of his former teammates. "And to all those who died in order for us to live in a world where we don't have to be afraid of them. A world where they can't hurt anyone else."
There was silence between the two. The words, constructed in a moment of pain, lingered in their minds and resonated through them like vibrations. Each ping and pang speaking to their souls.
"I want you to drink to that." Sienaerde said, her body warping inwards. Sniffling loudly she ran fingers over her eyes.
"Are you sure?" Nerves weak in Automne as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes on Sienaerde.
Sienaerde's hands tightened around her forearms. "It's for everyone we lost… Don't deny them that."
Automne raised his eyes in an attempt to meet hers. "Siena, are you all right?"
"Drink for their memory," Her voice harsh and miserable. Tears budding in the corners of her brown eyes she stared daggers at him. "And I'll be fine."
Guilt coursed into him as he stared at her. Barely thinking, he took the round glass in one hand and lifted it to his lips.
Tears burst into his eyes as the sweet liquid hit his mouth and set his senses on fire as it washed past his tongue and down into his throat. This of course was followed by him lurching forward to cough and sputter in agony. "Why the hell do people drink this shit?!" Automne shouted, the seriousness of the moment passing as Automne tried to get reacquainted with oxygen.
Sienaerde let out a soft sigh, her smile valiantly struggling to return. "And here I thought you'd gone and spoiled the mood… At least you didn't spit it out." Sienaerde lightly mocked. Standing she took the back of her chair in her hand and dragged it around to the other side of the table. A small chuckle even escaped her lips while she set herself beside Automne.
"Khaa khaa!" Automne coughed, his throat burning and his vision blurring. His coughs weakened though as Sienaerde, feigning disinterest, placed a hand on his back and began to gently rub him. Automne's vision cleared a smidgeon as he began to repeatedly, and violently, clear his throat. His eyes failed to clear in their entirety though until he focused on Sienaerde's pearl white socks.
"That explains it," Automne croaked, a grin growing on his tear-soaked face as he finally noticed she wasn't wearing her boots. "I thought you were taller."
I wonder who saw that coming*wink wink*. Thanks for reading, and remember hush hush with those spoilers.
Stay tuned, for there is more to come. Until then, peace out.
-CS