Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Frankie Say Relax
Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 43: Frankie Say Relax
The room was dark. The action, beauty, and thrill of Jurassic Park, made mute by the power of the remote control, cast the room into contrasts. Darkness, wherein rested the slumbering occupants of the room, and light, which those occupants hid from in their sleep. There were five of them, these slumbering souls, and one who was not. There was not a piece of furniture in this, the Hebert family living room, that went unoccupied.
First. The patriarch. Danny Hebert himself. Perhaps it was stereotypical, but he had an armchair to himself. A brown recliner that had seen him through many a year. He was currently...reclining...in it. Socked feet up, a throw blanket draped over his upper body, head leaned back. His glasses were folded and safe in a shirt pocket. He snored gently. Soothingly, if such a thing could be said about a sound as obnoxious as that.
Sabah had claimed the loveseat and occupied it with the sort of cramped tenacity that could only be admired. She had, through no small means, managed to cram herself into the sofa's cushions and now resembled a koosh ball made of knees and elbows. In contrast to the man to her left, she did not snore. Instead, a small stream of drool issued from her open mouth where it was pressed against the pillow.
Moving right along. Foil, who was actually Lily, had come out of Las Vegas shaken, seeking the comfort of her oldest friend. Prudence Abernathy – the young, tech-savvy Indian man – had somehow managed to fall asleep sitting completely upright. Well. Perhaps not completely . He'd propped his head on an upraised fist, temple against knuckles. His other arm was draped solidly over Lily's middle. Before falling asleep, she had seemed to relish the contact. To Sabah's great jealousy. Lily herself had laid out on the rest of the couch, dropping her head solidly in Roo's – as he preferred to be called – lap.
Upon the final couch were the final occupants of the shadowed living room. Both were stretched out across its length, and both were holding each other quite close. Lisa, white-blonde hair strewn madcap around, had pressed her face into the crook of the other's neck. Legs twined, arms tangled, it had been the work of a half hour to worm as close as possible to her girlfriend.
Speaking of. The last, and only waking, person in the room. Taylor held her girlfriend close and luxuriated in the warm presence. The rise and fall of her chest, the steady thunder of her heart. The scent of her – shampoo, deodorant, and Lisa – was a curious, compelling perfume. Taylor's eyes were closed, but she wasn't sleeping. She was...basking...she supposed, in this moment. This quiet, calm, peaceful moment. It was nice. It was really nice.
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A week after the Battle for Las Vegas – as it had come to be known – Taylor found herself sitting at a table across from her girlfriend. Completely dumbfounded, and with no idea of how to proceed. The situation, unprecedented. Her wrong-footedness, complete. She was, in a word, baffled. Kind of resented it, as well. It wasn't fun to be baffled, and it was entirely Lisa's fault. It didn't help that she refused to stop smiling, all shiny and smug. Like she found the whole thing amusing. Through those teeth of hers, Taylor's traitorous girlfriend said, "I still can't believe you've never had Thai before."
Maybe she was overreacting. As she stared at the laminated menu of heretofor unknown food items, she rather doubted it. "I can't believe you dragged me out of bed to come here."
"Oh, don't be such a baby."
"You actually dragged me. By my ankle. I was sleeping."
"And now you're awake!" Another winning smile. Maybe it was the same one. Either way, Lisa was cheating. "So it all worked out."
Taylor sighed, then glared over the top of her menu. "Someday, far in the future, I will find a way to make you pay for this."
The smile turned wicked, teasing. "Promise?"
"Bet your shapely butt on it." In turn, her own smile was almost sheepish. Part of her couldn't believe what she'd just said, out loud, in public. A much bigger part of her was aware of the fact that she'd fought hordes of evil, stinky, hate monsters and won, so her embarrassment could – to be frank – suck it.
Lisa's bright green eyes flashed, sparking with humor and pleasure. "So you did notice."
Taylor nodded, chose a thing from the menu at random, and set it down. She crossed her arms over it and leaned on them, giving a sigh full of false-disappointment. "Yes. I'm actually only dating you for your butt."
"I'm hurt." Lisa pressed a hand to her chest, leaning back and pouting outrageously. "Wounded, even." Then, "I'm only dating you for your legs."
Then the nice waiter who had been standing next to their table decided he'd waited long enough and cleared his throat. It was an act of great will to not drop dead of shame. Or more likely, since there was no way she hadn't known, kill Lisa.
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It was very late. So late, it might as well be early. The kind of ethereal, witching-hour early that really only bore witness to illicit interludes, illegal intrusions, urgent calls to nature, or emotionally laden conversations. Due to the way the universe rolls its dice, it was the latter two that occurred to Taylor. First, a pressing desire to pee drove her from the warm, sleepy comfort of her bed – or perhaps the Lisa within it – to the bathroom. Her eyes were thick and heavy with the weight of still being mostly asleep. It went down to her bones, this half wakefulness. Followed her through her rote hand-washing and as she padded back down the hall to her bedroom.
Then she heard it. The scrape of wood on linoleum. The clink of metal on ceramic. The sniffle of someone trying very hard not to cry. She knew that pretty well. Not so much recently, but there'd been a time. It woke her up, to be sure, and she headed down to the kitchen. The living room was dim, barely lit by the bright light over the dining room table. Sitting at that table, a steaming mug of coffee – Taylor could smell it – in front of her, was Lily. Lily, whose eyes were red and puffy. Lily, whose fingers shook where her hands wrapped around the mug. Lily, whose face was pale and sickly in the fluourescent light. Lily, whose voice was thick when she said "You may as well come out, Taylor."
The joke came to her immediately. That she'd already gone and outed herself, but she just...couldn't make herself say it. Like, she'd suddenly become a very limited precongitive and knew – just knew, that it wouldn't go over well. Or maybe it would. What did she know?
She didn't say that. What she did do was walk over and sit opposite of Lily, sitting quietly for a moment before asking, "You okay?" Then she wanted to slap herself because of course Lily wasn't. Maybe she should have gone with the gay joke instead. Was just as stupid, but nowhere near as inane.
Lily proceeded to lie her fucking face off, smile – kind of – and said, "I'm fine."
Taylor didn't bother trying to hide her skepticism. She looked from the clock, displayed three am, to the still-obvious tremor in Lily's fingers, to the red in her eyes. "No you're not."
Lily took a deep breath. Let it out. "No, really. I am. I just..couldn't sleep."
"And you thought coffee would help?"
"It's tea."
"It's coffee, I can smell it."
Lily wrinkled her nose. "That's weird."
"You have no idea. But really. What's wrong?"
Something like anger flashed through Lily's dark, shadowed eyes. "I said I'm fine. Leave it alone, Taylor." Then she left her freshly made mug of coffee and vanished down the dark hall to the guest room, the door to which closed with a soft click. Taylor watched her go, exhaling a soft breath.
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Taylor had a chance to pull Roo aside the next day. Or rather, later that same day. He was at the base, bent over an appropriated table covered with the guts of what looked to be a dozen different electronic devices. A pair of magnifying glasses were perched on his nose, and he deftly utilized a thin, narrow screwdriver and equally narrow set of needlenose pliers with great skill.
To be perfectly clear, she didn't mean to sneak up on him. She just forgot to make noise as she walked up. Not a thing people had to consciously do, as a rule. But in the days since she'd returned from Vegas she'd noticed that, much like a cat, her feet fell without sound. So when she tapped him on the shoulder, it came as a complete surprise. He shrieked – actually shrieked, like a bat or a little girl – and toppled off his stool. The pliers and screwdriver went flying. He blinked up at her, owl-like, eyes made huge by the glasses.
She tried very hard not to laugh. Some giggles managed to bubble out alongside her words as she offered a hand to him and said, "Hey, Roo. How's it going?"
He glared up at her for a moment before accepting the help. He pulled the glasses off his face and scrubbed his hands over his face. His voice came out muffled. "Not bad. Mourning the loss of my dignity. You?"
"We'll light some candles for it later," She solemnly promised, ruining it with a smile. She gestured to the table. "What's all this?"
"This, you terrible, terrible person, is the brand new security system for the – is it a lair, or a base? Whichever it is, these are gonna help keep it safe." He pointed to one side of the table. "Cameras." Then to the middle. "Motion detectors." Finally, to the other side. "Control module. Hook that up to a laptop or...any computer, really, and you'll the new head of security for this...place."
She scratched the side of her head. "I'm not too sure, but I think villains have lairs, and heroes have bases. That aside, this all looks – really impressive and really, really complicated. You sure you're not a Tinker?"
He nodded. "Pretty damn. I mean, this all looks like a mess, and it kinda is, but – it's not complicated, not really."
Was it bad that she couldn't quite erase her doubt, or just a sign of how deeply involved she'd gotten in the parahuman...lifestyle, for lack of a better word? Still. She took the man at his word and got around to the meat of the matter. "Can – can I talk to you for a second? About Lily?"
Then she got to watch his face change as he cottoned on. Not defensive, necessarily, but concerned. Maybe even worried. He blew out a breath. "Yeah. Guess so."
"How's she doing?"
"Bad. Better, but still pretty bad. I've tried to help, but..." He shrugged. "I'm an engineering major. She tell you what she saw?"
She shook her head. "I ran into her last night – early this morning. She wouldn't talk. Blew me off."
He grimaced, fiddling with the screwdriver. "Yeah, she did that to me a few times. I...I don't know what you want me to tell you. I'm not gonna, like, go behind her back or anything."
"I don't want you to." She assured him. "I just want her to be okay. Or maybe know that she's going to be. Like, I don't care if she doesn't talk to me so long as she's talking to someone. I've been in the 'don't talk to anyone about it' place and it was fucking awful, so..." she shrugged. "I don't want any of my friends to have to deal with that."
"I understand. At least I think I do. Still," he offered up a smile. "she's got us both. Even if she's only talking to me."
She returned it. "All she has to do is say the word, and I'm pretty sure she'll have Sabah, too. In more ways than one."
Roo laughed. "I'll be sure to tell her that. Be interesting to see what happens."
"Yeah." Her phone started ringing. Checked it – Lisa. She gave Roo an apologetic look. "Sorry. It's the girlfriend." He waved her off and she paced a few feet away before answering. "Hey, beautiful. What's up?"
"I want to have sex with you. 'Sides that, not a lot."
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