Rarely could she block them out, and only when she was extremely focused did their voices almost fade to the background. Now was one of those rare times when the combination of alcohol, exhaustion, frustration, and vivid memories temporarily blurred and distorted their voices into a white noise. It did not last longer than the few moments she spent dwelling on the last time Tally sat before her. Still their voices were raised, Annalise and Marion continued to go at it.
"Both of you, will you stop this?!" Devon interjected. "We all know she's conflicted, you personifying that conflict and making it an external issue is clearly not helping, I mean look at what your arguing has done to her."
Lifting her head out of her hands that rested on her desk, she glared at the biddy. "Say that again. Say again how terrible and sullen I appear. Why not? It isn't as if there is a shred of respect in this office."
Devon was silent.
"That's what I thought." Sarah grumbled and leaned back in her chair. "So did you solve all that ails me then? Have we reached a conclusion so this matter can be buried and we can all move on from it?! I'd much like to forget today had ever happened, and if you must get it out of your systems so it need not happen again, then please, I swear I will hear each of your opinions on the matter, and then never again. Clear?"
Marion and Annalise stood opposed to each other, Devon stood in the middle. The other four who had until now mostly remained out of it, stood along the back wall.
"Well..." She drawled.
No one immediately spoke as she swept her gaze over each of them. As this was clearly going to drag on, she decided to pour herself a fresh glass of whiskey. They all watched her until she returned to her chair, glass and bottle in hand. "I've heard enough from Marion and Annalise, their views are known to me. The rest of you. Elaine, Lianna, Rosali, and April, where do you stand?"
The four of them shuffled uncomfortably, looking to the other three for help, but there was none. "Elaine, you first. Do you agree with Marion or Annalise?"
The woman's eyes lowered to the floor in obvious submission. Sarah's palm connected with the table, the four biddies jumped at the sound. "I do not want this to come up again, so spit it out. Elaine. Now."
The woman sighed. "I think Annalise is not being realistic about Tally's feelings. You've already openly rejected her so many times. It feels insensitive to suggest making any move to reverse course."
Sarah did not respond, instead, she looked to the next woman. "Lianna? Thoughts?"
"Who does it hurt if you take Anna's advice?" She paused to take a breath. "Tally maybe. Her husband, but that's not a real concern, I suppose. I agree you have openly rejected her too many times, but if your heart has been telling you all this time to be with her, then I think you should try, or things will only get worse until it becomes something you no longer have the power to change."
Was it wrong she was actually hearing what they were suggesting and that she wanted to listen? Still she was determined that her final judgement would be that she take no action. Until the last of them spoke their mind though, she would refrain from saying such things. Instead, she sipped on the whiskey and nodded to the next woman.
Rosali had always been fairly reserved and her nerves showed in another quiet glance toward her comrades, again met with no aid. "It is a tough call, ma'am. Neither side seems inherently right or wrong... as in they both have merit."
Sarah wasn't playing this game. "Choose a side, Rosali."
"Right, well then I agree with Annalise. This ongoing issue has impaired your ability to perform your duties and if talking to Tally is what you need, then you should. Even if nothing but a sense of closure comes from it. I fear if you don't, the pain it causes you will continue to diminish your capabilities."
"How blunt." Sarah muttered into her glass.
April didn't need to be told it was her turn. Rosali's sentiments had hardly vanished from the air before she began. "General. Like the others, I tend to believe you need to reach out to her to at least get it out of your system if nothing else. On the other hand, the suffering you've felt on account of your own actions is what you deserve."
Sarah's grip tightened around the now empty glass, and she tapped it impatiently on the desk's surface, but April didn't stutter. "You have a lot of ground to make up if you do reach out. Further if you do, you need to do it the right way keeping in mind how the imperative will react, and being sensitive to Tally's needs as well."
"I can't believe this. Have none of you any thought or care for Tally? April said it best. Sarah deserves every bit of this pain and suffering." Marion scolded them while Annalise looked pretty smug.
"Yes, Sarah messed up big time, but as long as both Tally and the child are alive, it isn't too late for her to try to be part of their lives. And since the majority agrees with..."
"Devon, you have not made your opinion clear. Enlighten us." Sarah spoke pointedly, stopping Annalise in her tracks. There was only one answer she wanted to hear, but she knew Devon has always been typically utilitarian when it has come to her decision making and problem solving. Unease settled in her gut while she waited for Devon's response.
"You can't talk to Tally ma'am..." Sarah's heart dropped, but she would accept it as she intended. "That is, not until you find a way to deal with the imperative and the contract. There has to be a way to get out of it, something we haven't thought of, something in the fine print, something they didn't think of."
That had to be the most productive thing any of them had to say, and yet it was nothing she had not thought of before. Not that she deserved to be free of it, she didn't, and she certainly didn't deserve to be involved in Tally or Flora's lives.
'It will mean nothing if Tally is no longer open to your involvement." Marion seemed to continuously have negative things to say, but reasonably in this she was inescapably correct. There was no reason Tally should want her to be involved.
Once again her elbows hit her desk and she caught her head in her hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was still stuck in this paradox of wanting to reach out to Tally, but not wanting to give Tally or herself false hope, wanting to deal with the imperatrix but not wanting to bother if it wasn't something Tally wanted anymore. One had to happen first, but offering Tally something she might not be able to give didn't feel better than taking the time to weasel out of the contract without Tally's consent. So she was considering it after all, but nothing eased her sense of self loathing that ate at her. What right did she have to involve herself in this?
And all the while it weighed on her that every minute she continued to wallow in her misery and debate about what was right or wrong, what she did or didn't deserve, was another minute she was potentially not spending with them. Time she'd never get back. There were already so many things she missed. Moments that were gone, taken from her. Moments she gave away because she believed what the imperative said of her, that she was the evil influence that corrupted her previous daughter. Her belief in those sentiments didn't disappear, but for the first time they faded to the back seat.
Six months ago…
"What is it Izadora?" Alder drawled. For a Monday morning, it had been particularly tiring. She had barely slept, there was an incessant pounding in her head, and the endless barrage of meetings ahead of her made her want to run for the hills. Not only scheduled meetings, but unscheduled as well apparently. She had stepped out for no more than ten minutes, just to stretch her legs, and upon her return, Izadora was waiting at her door.
"Come in please, what can I do for you?" She stepped around the other woman and found her place again behind her at her desk.
"I am here to inform you that the child was born over the weekend." That couldn't be right. Craven wasn't due for another… how long had it been? Surely it was clear on her face that she didn't comprehend. It was a good thing she was already sitting down.
"The child, ma'am, Mrs. Shelbark's child. Tally Shelbark. You specifically requested to be kept informed,"
The wind was knocked out of her as if she'd been windstruck by the information being thrown at her. "W-When?" She couldn't breathe, let alone formulate more of a response.
"Saturday evening."
"Uh- well- and- are they-" She couldn't settle on what she wanted to know, what she needed to know first.
The scientist nodded though. "Yes, both mother and daughter are doing well."
"Daughter." Sarah mouthed breathlessly. Of course, she only ever had daughters, but still it was something to behold. Everything she had felt today until this moment seemed so inconsequential. Her imagination ran with that bare amount of detail, trying to picture how the infant looked, what traits she had. In her mind's eye, the child appeared to closely resemble Tally's best features, her chocolatey eyes, but in reality she had no idea. Goddess forbid the child favor her own side, that would be not unfortunate, but she imagined Tally was a cuter baby than she was.
"Yes, Mrs Shelbark had a daughter. She's a little underweight but healthy."
"Underweight?! By how much? Will she be alright?"
Never before had she been absent from the birth of her child, and hearing about possible complications was almost too much for her.
Her eyes blurred at the thought.
"I did say healthy, ma'am. The child will be fine."
As she felt the tears sting in her eyes, mourning the loss of that moment and everything that has been and would be, she turned away and stood looking out over the base. The sun was thankfully overcast and didn't shine in her eyes as she tried to blink the wetness out of existence and scrub it before it impacted her ability to speak. "What…what does she look like?"
"Hair to match Tally's, ma'am, I guess you have some red hair somewhere in your ancestry."
Sarah tried to muffle her sob with a laugh at suggestion, but it didn't sound quite convincing even to her own ears. "Yes, yes I suppose I might." Still blinking furiously, there was nothing she could do but wipe the fresh tears away with the palms of her hands. "What else?"
"Well the rest of her features will become more distinct with age I'm sure, however, her eyes are a nice bright blue to match someone else's that I know."
"Goddess forgive me." Sarah muttered. Not that she'd have an opportunity to see those eyes, but she had so hoped in the back of her mind for them to be brown.
"I'm afraid there is not much else I can tell you."
Sarah nodded slowly, taking another inhale, drying the last of the streaks from her face. "I appreciate your diligence. One more thing, has a name been chosen?"
"Per the imperative, you know I cannot tell you that." Izadora said pointedly.
"You know I will find out eventually." Sarah warned, her voice low.
"Yes, but…well, I don't know it, myself." The scientist admitted. "But I do have this. When I did a check up on them this morning before stopping by, I was asked to deliver this." Sarah turned around now.
Izadora held out a small white envelope.
Taking it, Sarah flipped it in her hands, it was sealed shut. "From Tally?"
Izadora responded with a nod.
"If that is all, Izadora, thank you." Slowly, she sat down as Izadora left, shutting the door with a click behind her.
She sat and stared at the envelope in her hands for a good long while until she set it down. Paced. Found some whiskey. Paced some more. Placed it in a drawer. Stared through blurry eyes out the window. Paced. Cried. Pulled herself together for a meeting with Petra. Let herself fall apart again. Paced. Picked herself up to have a meeting with two other generals. Fell apart again. Drank some more whiskey. Didn't pull herself together for her meeting with Anacostia. Deflected the barrage of questions as best she could until Anacostia reached the conclusion that Tally's child was the subject of her strife. She sent Anacostia on her way, and spiraled further and further, until she was on her second bottle of whiskey.
Near collapsed in the chair by the cold fireplace, she held the tiny envelope in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other.
By this point her biddies could only watch her implosion in horror and despair.
She gulped down more of the whiskey, leaving the new bottle nearly empty already. Barely capable of opening the envelope, she proceeded to black out and no part of her was able to absorb the information that she so desperately wanted to know. The information that was right in front of her.
The envelope contained a picture of the infant with her blue eyes open under which, written in Tally's delicate handwriting, was the child's name.
Flora Alder Craven.
When she'd eventually wake, there would be no sign of the envelope or photo. Not for lack of looking, but in her hungover stupor, her biddies gave away nothing of what they did with it.