Chapitre 83: The Weight of Coming Home
Red's hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles glaring white as she muttered under her breath. "Go home, Captain. Spend time with your family," she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated authority. She could almost see the General's face, the stiff way he'd delivered the order, as if telling her to back off was a reasonable solution. As if the cracks in Earth's defenses would magically mend while she sat around pretending everything was fine.
Her jaw clenched. The whole thing was ridiculous. Mandatory re-acclimation training? A hollow phrase for forced inaction, a slap in the face to everything she'd been working tirelessly to hold together. Red could feel the tension thrumming in her body, a taut wire ready to snap. This wasn't how things got fixed. This was negligence disguised as care.
Aegis's voice slipped into her mind, calm and measured, the perfect counterbalance to her rising irritation. "Deep breaths", he urged. "You're going to pull a muscle with how tense you are."
"Oh sure, Aegis", she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "he wants me to back off and take it on the chin... but as soon as the first Elvanurus strike force hits the ground, it'll be all, 'Oh my god, the sky is falling, why didn't the Rangers protect us?" Her voice rose in mock panic, leaning into the absurdity. And let's not forget the real crises. 'Oh my god, the trains are three minutes late—how am I ever going to get to work on time?' Or, 'Oh my god, my coffee isn't a perfect 195 degrees and the beans are burnt!' She threw her hands up, exasperation pouring out in waves.
Aegis stayed silent for a moment, probably to give her time to vent. Then, with his usual dry humor, he spoke, "Nova's managed for ten years. A few more days won't break the planet." He paused, as if considering her complaints. "And if it comes to an alien invasion, I've got Wil Smith, Jeff Goldblum, and Bill Pullman on standby. Just say the word, and I'll cue up the Independence Day sound track."
Despite herself, Red snorted, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. Classic, she thought, her grip loosening on the wheel. "You win this round."
The humor faded quickly, though, as she felt the adrenaline from her anger still pulsing through her. The car jolted slightly, and she realized she'd veered too close to the lane divider.
Red, Aegis interrupted, his voice taking on a firmer tone, I'm taking over. Before she could protest, the steering wheel adjusted smoothly in her hands, the car slowing to a reasonable speed. You're cutting people off, and you've been driving forty miles over the limit. Just breathe. I've got this.
Red opened her mouth to argue but closed it just as quickly. She hadn't even noticed how fast she'd been going or the way she'd been weaving through traffic. Her jaw tightened, this time in embarrassment. Fine, she thought, settling back into the seat and letting Aegis handle the rest of the drive. But only because I'm clearly a menace right now.
Clearly, Aegis echoed dryly, and though he didn't say anything more, the subtle calm of his presence in her mind was enough to steady her.
The humor faded as she finally took in the expressway around her, now that Aegis had taken over the driving. The mag bullet trains zipped by in the center lane, sleek and impossibly fast, threading through traffic with a precision that made her feel like she was in a sci-fi movie. She glanced at the vehicles around them, her brow furrowing. "I don't recognize half of what I'm seeing," she admitted, her voice tinged with discomfort. "When did everything get so... futuristic?"
Cars she couldn't name filled the lanes, all smooth curves and electric pulses of light. It felt surreal, like the world had moved on without her. Through the windows, she saw people gripping their steering wheels, manually piloting their vehicles. The sight seemed almost primitive given what she knew about the capabilities of the Ranger AIs. "If one of you were plugged in," she muttered, gesturing at a car that wobbled slightly in its lane, "these people wouldn't have to drive themselves. Absolute menaces."
Aegis hummed in her mind, humor threading his response. "Menaces, huh? Imagine if one of them decided to go forty miles over the speed limit. What a disaster that would be."
Red rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the grin from forming. "Alright, alright," she conceded, mock exasperation softening her frustration. "Point taken."
The silence that followed was easier to bear, a little less suffocating. But Aegis wasn't one to leave things hanging. "Where to, Captain?" he asked, a note of patience in his tone.
Red's stomach twisted at the thought of heading straight to her parents' home. The weight of that visit was too heavy, too soon. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Take me to my sister's place first," she said. "I want to inspect her life. See if she's made something of herself."
Aegis adjusted their route without another word, the car gliding smoothly into the right lane. Red watched the mag trains streak by, the ache of lost time settling back into her chest. At least with Aegis at the wheel, she had a moment to process how alien her own world felt.
As they turned down the winding street, Red leaned forward, squinting as the car approached her sister's home. The cottage sat nestled among tall, rustling trees, with warm light spilling through oversized windows framed in dark wood. The stone facade was a blend of strength and charm, softened by climbing ivy that curled around the edges of the structure. Flowerbeds, meticulously kept and bursting with vibrant colors, bordered a winding stone path that led to an arched wooden door.
Aegis made a soft, thoughtful sound. "Looks like your sister has done pretty well for herself," he remarked, his tone lightly impressed. "Living spaces this size are assigned based on merit, not just money or status."
Red couldn't help but feel a pang of something complicated—pride mixed with a tinge of envy or maybe longing. It had been ten years, after all. She hadn't expected Emma to have stayed stagnant, but seeing the evidence of her sister's success brought home just how much had changed in her absence. "Yeah," she murmured, her eyes scanning the cottage's perfectly framed silhouette, "seems she's really made something of herself."
The car came to a stop, and Red couldn't ignore the sense of disorientation, as if the world had rearranged itself without her. The house, with its elegant stone and gabled roof, seemed almost like a scene from a fairytale—completely at odds with the chaos Red had been navigating since her return.
Aegis shifted gears, metaphorically speaking. "Ready to inspect her life?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice. "You can't judge too harshly. It's not like you've been around to give her pointers."
Red rolled her eyes but smirked, finally pushing open the car door. "I'm not here to judge," she replied, stepping onto the stone path. "Just... curious."
The ivy whispered in the breeze, and for a moment, Red let herself wonder if she could still find a place in this world, where everything seemed so unfamiliar yet inviting.
The car had barely come to a full stop when the front door burst open. Emma came bounding out of the house, her blonde hair flying behind her and tears already streaming down her face. Red barely had time to brace herself before her sister crashed into her, wrapping her in a fierce, almost desperate embrace.
"Oh my god, Margaret!" Emma sobbed, her voice breaking with relief. "When Mom called, she sounded hysterical. I thought she was going to tell me someone else died." Her grip tightened, as if letting go would make her sister vanish again. "But you're here. You're really here."
Red's breath caught in her throat. Emma's words hit her like a wave, and suddenly, the walls she had built around her emotions cracked. She clung to her sister, her hands trembling as she held on, feeling the warmth and reality of the moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of her absence, the ten long years lost, slammed into her.
"I'm here," Red whispered, her voice unsteady. Her eyes burned, and she could no longer hold back the tears that spilled over. "I'm really here." The words felt fragile, like a promise she wasn't sure she had the strength to keep. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Emma's shirt, and she allowed herself, just for a moment, to be vulnerable, to let the pain of being gone and the relief of being home coexist.
Emma pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes red and filled with a complicated mix of grief and joy. "I missed you so much," she choked out, her hands cupping Red's face, as if to reassure herself that her sister was really, truly there.
Red managed a broken laugh, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She took a shaky breath, then arched an eyebrow, a playful smile breaking through the storm of emotion. "So, where are your manners?" she teased, her voice still thick. "I vanish for ten years, and you're not even going to invite me in for milchkaffee?"
Emma's laughter bubbled up through her tears, a sound Red had missed more than she realized. "Of course, of course!" Emma grabbed her hand, her grip warm and unyielding, and tugged her toward the house. "Come on, let's go inside. I'll make you the best cup you've ever had."
Hand in hand, they walked up the stone path, and for the first time in a long while, Red let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could find her way back into this world.
Emma squeezed Red's hand, leading her up the stone path and through the arched wooden door, which swung open to reveal the interior of the cottage. The warmth of the house embraced them immediately, a cozy blend of polished wood and soft, amber light filtering through large windows. The walls were adorned with framed photographs of friends and family, moments captured in time, and shelves brimming with books and small trinkets that hinted at Emma's hobbies.
Red's boots clicked softly against the polished stone floors, and she found herself marveling at how the place managed to feel both grand and inviting. The kitchen lay straight ahead, a rustic yet modern blend, with copper pots hanging above a gleaming granite island. Emma released her hand and moved to the counter, setting up the old-fashioned drip coffee maker. The rich, earthy scent of brewing coffee filled the air, bringing back memories Red hadn't realized she'd held so dear.
Emma spoke as she worked, her voice bright and animated, like a stream of sunlight cutting through the clouds. "You wouldn't believe how much I've gotten into gardening," she said, turning slightly to grin at her sister. "I have this whole setup in the back. Iris calls me the crazy plant lady now."
Red's eyes swept over the house, soaking in every detail. It was a space filled with life—paintings that matched Emma's vibrant spirit, a vase overflowing with fresh wildflowers, and the subtle hum of a home well-loved. "Gardening, huh?" Red teased, folding her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "You never had the patience for it when we were kids."
Emma's laughter rang out, light and unrestrained. "Tell me about it. But Iris swears it keeps me sane." She paused, pouring the steaming coffee into two mugs. "You should see us on the weekends. We've got this whole routine. Sometimes, we just sit outside, listening to music and enjoying the quiet."
Red's gaze fell on a photograph hanging by the kitchen door. Emma and Iris, arms around each other, smiling at the camera. Emma looked happy, genuinely happy, and that realization made Red's throat tighten. So much had changed in ten years, and yet here was her sister, thriving in a life that Red had never witnessed.
Emma followed Red's line of sight and set the mugs down on the island. Her expression softened. "I wish you could've met Iris sooner. She's... well, she keeps me grounded." She hesitated, searching Red's face for a reaction. "But she's excited to meet you. Properly, I mean."
Red swallowed hard, a thousand emotions swirling in her chest. Vulnerability crept in, but she tried to mask it with a wry smile. "I'm sure she'll love me," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. "I mean, who wouldn't?"
Emma reached across the counter, covering Red's hand with her own. "Hey," she said softly, her blue eyes—so similar to Red's—filled with an understanding that only a sister could have. "We've got all the time in the world to catch up now."
The warmth of her sister's hand, the comfort of the home that Emma had built, and the steady drip of the coffee were enough to make Red feel, if only for a moment, that she wasn't entirely lost.
Emma slid the mugs across the island, her smile still wide and genuine. "Oh, by the way," she said, her voice light as she stirred sugar into her coffee, "I'm having dinner with Mom and Dad tonight. Wanna go together?"
Red froze for a heartbeat, the idea of facing their parents stirring a mixture of anxiety and longing. Before she could respond, a voice called from another room.
"Hey, I'm home!" It was warm and casual but carried a note of concern. "Whose car is that in the driveway?"
Emma's face lit up. "In the kitchen, Iris!" she called back. Red braced herself, turning just in time to see Iris step into the room. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she was still wearing her work uniform, a sharp blazer paired with sleek black pants. But it was her expression that caught Red's attention—a mixture of shock and awe, as if she were standing in front of a celebrity.
"Holy—" Iris stopped short, her eyes widening. "Margaret? The Margaret?" She looked between Red and Emma, her mouth dropping open. "I mean, the legendary sister who saved the world and was the light of your family? And managed to keep that Blue character in line?"
The way Iris said Blue's name, with a hint of disdain, made Red's jaw tighten. A familiar spark of annoyance flared in her chest, but she held her tongue. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight. She took a steadying breath, letting the irritation simmer beneath the surface without boiling over.
Emma, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle change in Red's posture—the slight narrowing of her eyes, the way her shoulders stiffened. In an instant, she jumped in, her voice overly cheerful as she tried to redirect the conversation. "Iris, come here and meet her properly," she said, tugging Iris forward. "Magz just got in, and we were catching up over some coffee."
Iris blinked, seeming to recover from her initial shock. She stepped closer, extending a hand with a sheepish smile. "It's... really an honor to meet you," she said, her voice softening. "Emma's talked about you so much."
Red accepted the handshake, her grip firm but not unfriendly. "Likewise," she replied, though her tone was guarded. Her gaze flicked to Emma, who gave her a pleading look, silently begging for peace.
Emma released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and clapped her hands together. "So, dinner with Mom and Dad?" she asked again, her voice bright, a determined effort to keep the mood light. "What do you say, Red?"
Red glanced between her sister and Iris, the tension easing just slightly. "Sure," she said finally, forcing a small smile. "Let's go together."
Emma's relief was palpable, and she shot her sister a grateful smile. Iris, meanwhile, seemed to sense the undercurrents in the room and took a step back, letting the moment settle.
Red took a sip of her milchkaffee, savoring the warmth as she let herself absorb the comforting atmosphere of Emma's home. It felt surreal to be here, in this world that had evolved while she was gone, but maybe, just maybe, she could fit back in.
"So, Iris," Red started, keeping her tone casual despite the swirl of emotions, "what do you do for a living? And how did you and Emma meet?"
Iris straightened, her posture shifting to something more animated, and her eyes lit up with a practiced enthusiasm. "I'm a memory curator," she said, with a confident smile that felt just a touch too polished.
Memory curator? Aegis's voice hummed in Red's mind, curious but wary. Sounds like this is going to be one hell of a pitch.
Red's lips twitched at Aegis's comment, but she kept her focus on Iris. "Memory curator?" she echoed. "That's a new one. What does it mean?"
Iris leaned forward, her hands moving as she spoke. "You know how data ports are super common now, right? People use them to instantly access huge amounts of information, but while they're connected, they're pretty much zoned out."
Red nodded, a familiar image flashing through her mind: Blue, jacked in and defenseless, his eyes vacant while the rest of the team fought to protect him. The memory of him barely surviving the Blood Plague attack still made her stomach twist. Yeah, I know all about data ports, she thought to Aegis, forcing herself to stay composed. Still don't see how this connects to memory curation.
Iris went on, oblivious to Red's inner turmoil. "So, about a year after the mission to Ceres went to shit—"
Red's jaw clenched, her grip tightening on the mug. The flippant way Iris mentioned Ceres was like nails on a chalkboard, but she stayed silent. Aegis pulsed gently in the back of her mind, a calming presence. Keep it together, he whispered. She's not trying to push your buttons.
"—the tech from the Ranger suits was reverse-engineered to make data ports way more versatile," Iris explained, her excitement growing. "Now, not only can you record every sensory detail from the moment you get the implant, but the tech can even help you retrieve memories from before. If the memory is still vivid enough, the data port directs energy to those specific neurons and engrams, pulling out details you thought you'd forgotten."
Red's eyes narrowed slightly, trying to mask her discomfort. "Wait," she said, her voice low and thoughtful, "you mean it can help you remember things you'd buried, even from years ago?"
Iris nodded eagerly, her hands painting images in the air. "Exactly! It's like reviving old memories with clarity. And that's where I come in: I help people curate those memories into meaningful, full-sensory messages for their loved ones. It's like creating a message in a bottle but with every detail intact."
Ah, Aegis interjected dryly. Selling nostalgia and emotion in a bottle. Clever.
Red forced a tight smile, suppressing the discomfort. "And that's how you met Emma?" she asked, steering the conversation away from the knot of unease in her chest.
Emma, who had been quietly listening, stepped forward, her cheeks flushing with warmth. "Yeah," she said, her voice gentle. "It was Mom's birthday, and I wanted to make one of those memory messages. Just in case." Her gaze softened as she looked at Iris. "I walked into her studio, and she was so welcoming. We spent hours curating the perfect message, and somewhere in the middle of it, I realized I wanted her in my life."
Red took another sip of her milchkaffee, trying to shake the feeling of unease that kept bubbling up. The thought of someone digging through her sister's memories, reshaping them into a package for others to experience, made her skin crawl. She set down her mug, her voice carefully measured. "So, Emma," she asked, "what memory did you want to share with Mom?"
Emma's face lit up, her eyes taking on a wistful glow. "That's easy," she said, her smile turning soft. "Our trip to Grandpa's ranch, before Countdown."
Red's chest tightened, the memory flooding back with vivid clarity. The sprawling Kentucky ranch, with its rolling hills and endless pastures, where they'd learned to ride and care for their first horses. The wonder of picking out their mounts from Grandpa's herd, the excitement and nervousness of trying to climb into the saddle, only to be lifted up with gentle laughter. She could almost hear Grandma's voice, chatting away with Mom while they took turns riding. The warmth of the sun, the scent of hay, and the pure joy that had filled that day, even with Dad away on another mission.
Emma's voice grew more animated, her hands gesturing as she relived the memory. "I wanted to remind Mom of both of us," she explained. "The way Grandpa let us pick out our horses. The way I fell trying to climb up, and you told me to get back up, that I could do it. I was so scared, but you encouraged me, and we just... kept laughing and riding and having the best day. Even though Dad couldn't be there, it still felt perfect."
Red felt her heart ache at the memory, a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. She had always taken pride in being there for Emma, in being her rock when things got tough. But the idea that Iris had experienced such an intimate, cherished moment felt wrong. Her gaze flicked to Iris, who was listening with a serene smile, and a bitter thought crept in: this intimacy, this closeness Emma had with Iris—was it genuine? Or had Iris preyed on her sister's vulnerability, using her memories to create a bond?
Red, Aegis whispered, sensing her growing anger. You don't know that. Take a breath.
Red did, though the effort to calm herself felt strained. The ranch memory wasn't just a snapshot of joy; it was a piece of their childhood, a part of the bond they'd shared. And now, it felt tainted by the possibility that it had been manipulated. She managed a tight smile, looking back at Emma. "That was a special day," she admitted, her voice softer but still laced with an edge. "I'm glad you wanted to share that with Mom."
Emma beamed, seemingly unaware of Red's turmoil. "I think it brought her a lot of comfort," she said. "Especially now that we're all... well, finding our way again."
Red nodded, but her thoughts wouldn't settle. The image of Iris, curating memories like a weaver threading a tapestry, made her feel protective, almost territorial. How much of my sister's life does she really understand? Red wondered, a gnawing suspicion taking root.
Iris, oblivious, turned back to the kitchen, leaving Red to grapple with the realization that, once again, the world she'd returned to wasn't quite as she remembered—or as she'd hoped.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone