006: Littlest Things [SCW]
Aug 27, 2016 15:13:55 GMT -5
Post by Admin on Aug 27, 2016 15:13:55 GMT -5
LOCATION: Daytona Beach, Florida
DATE/TIME: February 16, 2012 || 5:59PM EST
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
The sun was already sinking over the horizon beyond the windows, the air still warm enough that she hadn't bothered to close the patio doors. The clouds were pink and purple over the water, like cotton candy and if she'd been in better spirits, she would have been snapping pictures of it with her phone to add to the collection. Instead Kitty sat with her back against the wall, dry eyes burning.
The vase of roses sat in her lap, her fingers stroking one of the velvety petals – it felt like silk between her fingers and she knew how horribly wrong she'd been. She'd been absolutely convinced that her estranged husband had wanted to meet her for forgiveness. She'd let herself be manipulated into that assumption because after hundreds of texts and Twitter direct messages, he'd finally told her that he had a gift, one that he was going to deliver personally. The bubble had burst the moment he'd sat down across from her, that cold indifference oozing from every pore.
His face was rather hard to read, expressing no overt emotion so far as he looked across the table to his bride. He didn't seem unhappy to see her, but there was no sign that he was bubbling over at the prospect either. "...and before you ask, it's just me. I did not come here with Luther or Jennifer."
She visibly winced at the last word that came from his lips, remembering all the awful things that had been dredged up on Twitter just hours ago. "That," she swallowed past the lump in her throat, "that's good. I believed you when you said you were going to come alone. And I didn't expect you'd have..." she couldn't bring herself to say the name of her rival, "brought anyone else with you. Contrary to the impression I gave you before, I don't..." she trailed off, not even able to complete the sentence. She could feel the ache in her chest getting stronger, making it harder to breathe. Swallowing hard, she looked down at her coffee, her heart breaking as she mumbled, "I just wanted to see you for..." she couldn't bring herself to utter the name of the Hallmark holiday, "I'm sorry I was so annoying."
"I have not seen Jennifer since the Pay-Per-View, if you want to know the facts. I have been spending a great deal of time with Luther, and assisting him in whatever matters may pop up. He has been a very good friend to me for many years, now being no exception. You know, Kaitlynn, there is one thing I value most in any relationship. Be it personal or business, and that is trust. You don't seem to trust me anymore. And as I have considered it now for quite a while, I need to know when that trust vanished and exactly what caused it to do so." Never one to mince words, he got right to the point immediately. His eyes squinted slightly as though he were trying to see into her soul almost.
"I didn't understand," she said softly, lifting her gaze from the contemplation of the contents of her coffee cup to meet his eyes. "I still don't, Alex. I didn't understand why you met with her a second time... it just seemed to fan the flames and..." she stopped, realizing that her excuses did nothing to help her case. "I was stupid. All these people saying things and I can't stop questioning why you didn't just tell her to go away in the first place, even before you got pulled into the middle of the match as a referee."
There was nothing to understand because Alexander Stryfe was never wrong. She should have known that by now. The tears started up again, hot, spilling down her cheeks and she lifted her free hand to swipe at them angrily. It didn't help her husband's – was she even allowed to still call him that – Alex's voice ringing in her ears, that patronizing tone making it clear how much of a goddamned fishwife she'd become.
"I didn't tell her to go away because she had done nothing wrong. She showed concern for me, and if the roles were reversed and I felt she was in danger as she feels I am, I would have done very much the same thing. Now I'm not saying I am in danger then or now, but that is what she perceived and thus she acted. Jennifer has been nothing but a concerned friend. And that is as far as the nature of our relationship goes. I have assured her again and again that her concern is unnecessary, but she always has been a very.....I suppose the word would be stubborn. When she believes something so deeply, changing her mind is a near impossibility."
She should have known then. She could have told him about that moment of weakness, the couple months she'd spent sneaking around with Christian Kincaid – she could have told him in the several months since the tryst had ended. Instead, she'd let it slip, letting it fall on the pile of poor choices because Brad had always allowed her dalliances and welcomed her back with open arms.
"While I have never been even a moment unfaithful since we were married, can you also say that?" A perfect poker face, he didn't give any indication that he was aware or unaware of anything.
She was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that the answer was obvious before she said anything. "You already know me inside and out, Alex. What kind of question is that?" Her voice came out level enough, but she kept her eyes downcast as she picked up her coffee cup and took a small sip.
"Much like any question that I tend to ask, one in which I already know the answer. But well played, I can see you have learned a lot from me."
That pride on his face, had she imagined that? It had shifted to anger so quickly that she hadn't really had time to register it. Letting out a scream that turned into a ragged sob, the vase went flying against the wall. Water and shards of glass showered over her, the roses scattering, petals fluttering through the air like white confetti. The card fell on her knee and she stared at it, wondering how she'd missed it before. It must have been tucked deep into the roses, lost. It was a stock florist's card, the little red heart border spelling out "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY" across the top. There was no trite little message. No clichéd missives like 'I miss you' or even worse 'I love you'. Just a single letter: M.
Vision blurred by tears, she crawled across thorny stems and broken glass, not caring as they bit through the denim covering her knees. She almost dropped her phone on the sodden carpet as she pulled it off the bed – her hands were shaking too much. What did it matter now? She wasn't going to win this game if that's what it was.
White roses. My favourite. Thank you so much.
She stared at those words she'd written, wondering if their plainness would strike him as odd. She wondered if she should even bother to send it, wondering if Alex had his hands on her cell phone records too. She realized she didn't care and hit the button, sending that little text message out into oblivion, hoping that his number hadn't changed since the last time they'd spoken.
When she looked again, the message icon would be lit – a simple reply. I am glad you liked them.
She stared at the phone, trying to read something beyond those simple words. Swallowing hard, she typed a reply before she lost her nerve: I hope the vase wasn't anything special. I kinda dropped it and it broke. But the flowers were amazing.
Do not worry about that.
She could almost hear his voice in her head, the hint of bemusement in that Russian accent of his and for a moment she almost hit the little icon next to his name, almost phoned him. Deep down she knew that he'd come running as soon as he heard her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was drag someone else into her mess.
I'm going to lay down for a little while. She paused in the typing, wiping the teardrop off the phone's screen with her thumb. But I'll text you when I get up. Promise. On the off chance he replied, she turned off the phone and crawled up on the bed, leaving the patio doors open and the mess on the floor.
It didn't matter.
LOCATION: REDACTED
DATE/TIME: March 17, 2013 || 3:17PM local time
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
YOU'VE GOT MAIL!
That old-school AOL voice issued from the speakers of the battered laptop, shattering the Zen that she'd been striving to achieve via yoga for the last half an hour. Sighing, she dropped back down to her hands and knees, feeling the crackle along her spine as she reached for the bottle of water. She kept the thing on even though she was only allowed access to a few sites, everything she did monitored and filtered by the bastards who called themselves her handlers but had essentially become her captors.
Flipping open the laptop, she clicked the worn touchpad, bringing the screen to life before navigating to her email. That old Gmail account was apparently still active, still able to receive even though this was the first thing that had come through since November.
From: Mikhail
Date: 03/17/2013 3:12:07 PM
Subject: (no subject)
My Dearest Kaitlynn,
How I wish, I had had the nerve to call you this when you could hear me say it. Or that you could get the flowers I will send, so many things I wish were different. I like to believe that a part of you knew how high I held you in my regard, in my heart. That there was nothing I would not do, to make you happy as you always deserved. Perhaps this is my conceit, that I think this way that I could have made you happy, Princess of my heart?
You were precious to me. I would look forward to our talks, so very much. To hear your voice, to have that connection. I would give anything to have been able to talk to you when you needed me most.
Moya samaya krasivaya printsessa, my most beautiful Princess. I hope that wherever you are tonight, that you are happy somehow, that you know that I still think of you.
Happy Birthday, Kaitlynn.
Always,
Your Mikhail.
"No," she whispered, her heart in her throat, a stabbing pain in her middle, "please no. Please don't do this to me... not today." Her eyes were red-rimmed already, bright green behind the sheen of tears as she looked up, her gaze seeking out the camera in the corner of the room. "I need to speak to someone in charge." She said the words loudly, clearly, knowing they were listening. They were always listening. She didn't bother to wait for a reply, didn't bother to wait to hear the key in the lock. Instead she hit reply and started typing.
From: Gmail <kittyamac@gmail.com>
Date: 03/17/2013 3:19:07 PM
Subject: re: (no subject)
To: Mikhail
There are so many things I wish I could tell you right now. So many things I should have done that I never had the courage to do and now it's too late and I'm gone. You're gone. You're lost to me forever and the thing I want the most right now is to hear you laugh. I know that's strange, but I used to save up all my best, my silliest stories just so I could regale you when we got together. I wanted to see that crinkle at the corner of your eyes. I wanted to hear that laugh.
On the flipside of every coin is a face. A dead president. A queen. Whatever. For the longest time you were that for me, you and Sabra both, my anchors.
My family after Robby died.
But you, Mik. You were a prince to me always. You were stalwart and reliable. You were always there and I took you for granted in the worst way because you were my flipside – you were always supposed to be right there, close enough to touch but I'm so very foolish.
I don't deserve the love of someone like you.
No. To answer you honestly, I'm not happy and I believe I'll never be again but it doesn't matter. I'm going to save lives. That's what they tell me. I'm a hero. I sold my soul to bring down an evil man. I'm in protective custody and I'm probably never going to be released as long as Anthony Gambini is still alive. Maybe not even after he dies or they bring him in. There will always be someone, something in our way. There always has been.
They probably won't let me send this because nobody is allowed to know the truth.
That grave, if you've visited it – I'm not there. Obviously. But they told me someone leaves white flowers often. I know it's you and I hope that haunting that place of lies hasn't ruined your life. I hope that you smile. I hope that you're keeping our bunny safe. I hope that you won't hate me when the truth comes out. You understand sacrifice. I know you do. And this is my prison, my own fault. I should never have married Alex Stryfe. I was young. I was stupid and egotistical and he promised me the world, he promised to make me a star.
This life isn't long enough to atone for everything I have done. Centuries wouldn't be adequate and I don't have the faintest idea of how to make this right where you're concerned.
They won't let me send this so I'll tell you the truth: I've always loved you. You were my best friend, my rock. I have no knowledge of how this came to pass. It crept up on me and then it simply was and I never in a million years believed that you felt the same way. Even reading your words today, I can't bring myself to really and truly accept them.
Maybe you only love what might have been. The fantasy that's built up in your mind, all the things we could have been that I selfishly stole from you are now elevated to something magical, something ephemeral.
I hate myself the most for hurting you.
If I ever get out of this place, I'll look for you. To the ends of the earth, wherever you may be, I'll find you. If not in this life, the next. I promise you that.
I love you, Mikhail.
Always,
Your Kaitlynn
She looked up after typing her name, meeting the cool blue eyes of her current handler. "You need to find a way for me to send this."
"That's impossible," he replied, his voice soft, "I've already done far too much damage in letting that message come through. You've been so sad lately, I thought that maybe it would cheer you up."
The tears fell down her cheeks, a hot flood but to her credit she didn't sob or rage. She simply stared at him, hatred written all over her face. "Did you read it?" The words came out clipped, lips thinning as she stared at Agent Donovan. "Of course you did. And you thought that me seeing..." her voice broke as she looked away, "you could find him, couldn't you? Bring him here? Let him see me so that he knows... so he knows I didn't leave... you could do that, couldn't you? He's probably in Arizona or California. Please... you could do that for me, couldn't you? Tell him... just... don't even have to bring him here. Just find a way to tell him that I–"
"Kaitlynn, you know we can't. We can't jeopardize the investigation. We can't put you at risk like that."
She seemed to deflate before his eyes, pushing the laptop away as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "Go away," she muttered, shaking her head. "Just leave me alone. You've already done enough..."
"I'm sorr–"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed, suddenly launching herself at him. "JUST GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, YOU MONSTER! YOU SICK, TWISTED, FUCKING SADIST!" She kept battering at him until he was down on the floor, turtling to protect his head and neck from her nails and teeth. The room was full of faces she'd never seen before but she kept fighting until she felt the needle slip into her arm and then she was finally still. "Mikhail loves me," she mouthed the words to herself, holding them close, knowing that when she woke up again the laptop would be gone, along with that message she was never supposed to read.
He loves me.
That was the only thing that mattered.
DATE/TIME: February 16, 2012 || 5:59PM EST
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
The sun was already sinking over the horizon beyond the windows, the air still warm enough that she hadn't bothered to close the patio doors. The clouds were pink and purple over the water, like cotton candy and if she'd been in better spirits, she would have been snapping pictures of it with her phone to add to the collection. Instead Kitty sat with her back against the wall, dry eyes burning.
The vase of roses sat in her lap, her fingers stroking one of the velvety petals – it felt like silk between her fingers and she knew how horribly wrong she'd been. She'd been absolutely convinced that her estranged husband had wanted to meet her for forgiveness. She'd let herself be manipulated into that assumption because after hundreds of texts and Twitter direct messages, he'd finally told her that he had a gift, one that he was going to deliver personally. The bubble had burst the moment he'd sat down across from her, that cold indifference oozing from every pore.
His face was rather hard to read, expressing no overt emotion so far as he looked across the table to his bride. He didn't seem unhappy to see her, but there was no sign that he was bubbling over at the prospect either. "...and before you ask, it's just me. I did not come here with Luther or Jennifer."
She visibly winced at the last word that came from his lips, remembering all the awful things that had been dredged up on Twitter just hours ago. "That," she swallowed past the lump in her throat, "that's good. I believed you when you said you were going to come alone. And I didn't expect you'd have..." she couldn't bring herself to say the name of her rival, "brought anyone else with you. Contrary to the impression I gave you before, I don't..." she trailed off, not even able to complete the sentence. She could feel the ache in her chest getting stronger, making it harder to breathe. Swallowing hard, she looked down at her coffee, her heart breaking as she mumbled, "I just wanted to see you for..." she couldn't bring herself to utter the name of the Hallmark holiday, "I'm sorry I was so annoying."
"I have not seen Jennifer since the Pay-Per-View, if you want to know the facts. I have been spending a great deal of time with Luther, and assisting him in whatever matters may pop up. He has been a very good friend to me for many years, now being no exception. You know, Kaitlynn, there is one thing I value most in any relationship. Be it personal or business, and that is trust. You don't seem to trust me anymore. And as I have considered it now for quite a while, I need to know when that trust vanished and exactly what caused it to do so." Never one to mince words, he got right to the point immediately. His eyes squinted slightly as though he were trying to see into her soul almost.
"I didn't understand," she said softly, lifting her gaze from the contemplation of the contents of her coffee cup to meet his eyes. "I still don't, Alex. I didn't understand why you met with her a second time... it just seemed to fan the flames and..." she stopped, realizing that her excuses did nothing to help her case. "I was stupid. All these people saying things and I can't stop questioning why you didn't just tell her to go away in the first place, even before you got pulled into the middle of the match as a referee."
There was nothing to understand because Alexander Stryfe was never wrong. She should have known that by now. The tears started up again, hot, spilling down her cheeks and she lifted her free hand to swipe at them angrily. It didn't help her husband's – was she even allowed to still call him that – Alex's voice ringing in her ears, that patronizing tone making it clear how much of a goddamned fishwife she'd become.
"I didn't tell her to go away because she had done nothing wrong. She showed concern for me, and if the roles were reversed and I felt she was in danger as she feels I am, I would have done very much the same thing. Now I'm not saying I am in danger then or now, but that is what she perceived and thus she acted. Jennifer has been nothing but a concerned friend. And that is as far as the nature of our relationship goes. I have assured her again and again that her concern is unnecessary, but she always has been a very.....I suppose the word would be stubborn. When she believes something so deeply, changing her mind is a near impossibility."
She should have known then. She could have told him about that moment of weakness, the couple months she'd spent sneaking around with Christian Kincaid – she could have told him in the several months since the tryst had ended. Instead, she'd let it slip, letting it fall on the pile of poor choices because Brad had always allowed her dalliances and welcomed her back with open arms.
"While I have never been even a moment unfaithful since we were married, can you also say that?" A perfect poker face, he didn't give any indication that he was aware or unaware of anything.
She was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that the answer was obvious before she said anything. "You already know me inside and out, Alex. What kind of question is that?" Her voice came out level enough, but she kept her eyes downcast as she picked up her coffee cup and took a small sip.
"Much like any question that I tend to ask, one in which I already know the answer. But well played, I can see you have learned a lot from me."
That pride on his face, had she imagined that? It had shifted to anger so quickly that she hadn't really had time to register it. Letting out a scream that turned into a ragged sob, the vase went flying against the wall. Water and shards of glass showered over her, the roses scattering, petals fluttering through the air like white confetti. The card fell on her knee and she stared at it, wondering how she'd missed it before. It must have been tucked deep into the roses, lost. It was a stock florist's card, the little red heart border spelling out "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY" across the top. There was no trite little message. No clichéd missives like 'I miss you' or even worse 'I love you'. Just a single letter: M.
Vision blurred by tears, she crawled across thorny stems and broken glass, not caring as they bit through the denim covering her knees. She almost dropped her phone on the sodden carpet as she pulled it off the bed – her hands were shaking too much. What did it matter now? She wasn't going to win this game if that's what it was.
White roses. My favourite. Thank you so much.
She stared at those words she'd written, wondering if their plainness would strike him as odd. She wondered if she should even bother to send it, wondering if Alex had his hands on her cell phone records too. She realized she didn't care and hit the button, sending that little text message out into oblivion, hoping that his number hadn't changed since the last time they'd spoken.
When she looked again, the message icon would be lit – a simple reply. I am glad you liked them.
She stared at the phone, trying to read something beyond those simple words. Swallowing hard, she typed a reply before she lost her nerve: I hope the vase wasn't anything special. I kinda dropped it and it broke. But the flowers were amazing.
Do not worry about that.
She could almost hear his voice in her head, the hint of bemusement in that Russian accent of his and for a moment she almost hit the little icon next to his name, almost phoned him. Deep down she knew that he'd come running as soon as he heard her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was drag someone else into her mess.
I'm going to lay down for a little while. She paused in the typing, wiping the teardrop off the phone's screen with her thumb. But I'll text you when I get up. Promise. On the off chance he replied, she turned off the phone and crawled up on the bed, leaving the patio doors open and the mess on the floor.
It didn't matter.
LOCATION: REDACTED
DATE/TIME: March 17, 2013 || 3:17PM local time
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
YOU'VE GOT MAIL!
That old-school AOL voice issued from the speakers of the battered laptop, shattering the Zen that she'd been striving to achieve via yoga for the last half an hour. Sighing, she dropped back down to her hands and knees, feeling the crackle along her spine as she reached for the bottle of water. She kept the thing on even though she was only allowed access to a few sites, everything she did monitored and filtered by the bastards who called themselves her handlers but had essentially become her captors.
Flipping open the laptop, she clicked the worn touchpad, bringing the screen to life before navigating to her email. That old Gmail account was apparently still active, still able to receive even though this was the first thing that had come through since November.
From: Mikhail
Date: 03/17/2013 3:12:07 PM
Subject: (no subject)
My Dearest Kaitlynn,
How I wish, I had had the nerve to call you this when you could hear me say it. Or that you could get the flowers I will send, so many things I wish were different. I like to believe that a part of you knew how high I held you in my regard, in my heart. That there was nothing I would not do, to make you happy as you always deserved. Perhaps this is my conceit, that I think this way that I could have made you happy, Princess of my heart?
You were precious to me. I would look forward to our talks, so very much. To hear your voice, to have that connection. I would give anything to have been able to talk to you when you needed me most.
Moya samaya krasivaya printsessa, my most beautiful Princess. I hope that wherever you are tonight, that you are happy somehow, that you know that I still think of you.
Happy Birthday, Kaitlynn.
Always,
Your Mikhail.
"No," she whispered, her heart in her throat, a stabbing pain in her middle, "please no. Please don't do this to me... not today." Her eyes were red-rimmed already, bright green behind the sheen of tears as she looked up, her gaze seeking out the camera in the corner of the room. "I need to speak to someone in charge." She said the words loudly, clearly, knowing they were listening. They were always listening. She didn't bother to wait for a reply, didn't bother to wait to hear the key in the lock. Instead she hit reply and started typing.
From: Gmail <kittyamac@gmail.com>
Date: 03/17/2013 3:19:07 PM
Subject: re: (no subject)
To: Mikhail
There are so many things I wish I could tell you right now. So many things I should have done that I never had the courage to do and now it's too late and I'm gone. You're gone. You're lost to me forever and the thing I want the most right now is to hear you laugh. I know that's strange, but I used to save up all my best, my silliest stories just so I could regale you when we got together. I wanted to see that crinkle at the corner of your eyes. I wanted to hear that laugh.
On the flipside of every coin is a face. A dead president. A queen. Whatever. For the longest time you were that for me, you and Sabra both, my anchors.
My family after Robby died.
But you, Mik. You were a prince to me always. You were stalwart and reliable. You were always there and I took you for granted in the worst way because you were my flipside – you were always supposed to be right there, close enough to touch but I'm so very foolish.
I don't deserve the love of someone like you.
No. To answer you honestly, I'm not happy and I believe I'll never be again but it doesn't matter. I'm going to save lives. That's what they tell me. I'm a hero. I sold my soul to bring down an evil man. I'm in protective custody and I'm probably never going to be released as long as Anthony Gambini is still alive. Maybe not even after he dies or they bring him in. There will always be someone, something in our way. There always has been.
They probably won't let me send this because nobody is allowed to know the truth.
That grave, if you've visited it – I'm not there. Obviously. But they told me someone leaves white flowers often. I know it's you and I hope that haunting that place of lies hasn't ruined your life. I hope that you smile. I hope that you're keeping our bunny safe. I hope that you won't hate me when the truth comes out. You understand sacrifice. I know you do. And this is my prison, my own fault. I should never have married Alex Stryfe. I was young. I was stupid and egotistical and he promised me the world, he promised to make me a star.
This life isn't long enough to atone for everything I have done. Centuries wouldn't be adequate and I don't have the faintest idea of how to make this right where you're concerned.
They won't let me send this so I'll tell you the truth: I've always loved you. You were my best friend, my rock. I have no knowledge of how this came to pass. It crept up on me and then it simply was and I never in a million years believed that you felt the same way. Even reading your words today, I can't bring myself to really and truly accept them.
Maybe you only love what might have been. The fantasy that's built up in your mind, all the things we could have been that I selfishly stole from you are now elevated to something magical, something ephemeral.
I hate myself the most for hurting you.
If I ever get out of this place, I'll look for you. To the ends of the earth, wherever you may be, I'll find you. If not in this life, the next. I promise you that.
I love you, Mikhail.
Always,
Your Kaitlynn
She looked up after typing her name, meeting the cool blue eyes of her current handler. "You need to find a way for me to send this."
"That's impossible," he replied, his voice soft, "I've already done far too much damage in letting that message come through. You've been so sad lately, I thought that maybe it would cheer you up."
The tears fell down her cheeks, a hot flood but to her credit she didn't sob or rage. She simply stared at him, hatred written all over her face. "Did you read it?" The words came out clipped, lips thinning as she stared at Agent Donovan. "Of course you did. And you thought that me seeing..." her voice broke as she looked away, "you could find him, couldn't you? Bring him here? Let him see me so that he knows... so he knows I didn't leave... you could do that, couldn't you? He's probably in Arizona or California. Please... you could do that for me, couldn't you? Tell him... just... don't even have to bring him here. Just find a way to tell him that I–"
"Kaitlynn, you know we can't. We can't jeopardize the investigation. We can't put you at risk like that."
She seemed to deflate before his eyes, pushing the laptop away as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "Go away," she muttered, shaking her head. "Just leave me alone. You've already done enough..."
"I'm sorr–"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed, suddenly launching herself at him. "JUST GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, YOU MONSTER! YOU SICK, TWISTED, FUCKING SADIST!" She kept battering at him until he was down on the floor, turtling to protect his head and neck from her nails and teeth. The room was full of faces she'd never seen before but she kept fighting until she felt the needle slip into her arm and then she was finally still. "Mikhail loves me," she mouthed the words to herself, holding them close, knowing that when she woke up again the laptop would be gone, along with that message she was never supposed to read.
He loves me.
That was the only thing that mattered.
