“It’s not as if I wanted to leave,” she says, low and quiet, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the room.
Gently, she sets three fingertips against the bare skin of Alphie’s shoulder, who has yet to look at her, lying on his stomach and face turned away into his pillow.
For some reason, he too, doesn’t want to disturb this fragile quiet, he doesn’t jerk away from her touch, merely squirms until she pulls back.
“I wanted to come back sooner,” she continues, because Alphie has yet respond, “I would have, if I could.”
Still, Alphie says nothing. Maybe he wants her to beg, maybe he wants to punish her.
“Don’t–don’t do this, please,” she says, tone turning rough–irritation or desperation?
Or maybe he just wants to hear her voice again–it’s been six years, after all.
She sighs. Even without looking, Alphie can feel the weight of her hesitant seat on the side of the bed moving. Shifting, as if to stand up and go.
Blindly, he reaches his arm towards her, palm up and open. He turns his head to face her, jaw still pressed into the pillow. Still silent.
Don’t leave me, he doesn’t say. Don’t leave me again.
There’s a delicate art to simultaneously being a mercenary for hire, an on-call member of a vigilante team, and a parent, but the simplest method is:
Just give up one of them.
It’s okay to half-ass two things, but third-assing three things is just asking for failure.
At the very least, schedule the hell out of everything you do, and for god’s sake DO NOT HAVE OVERLAPPING OBLIGATIONS.
Otherwise you’ll end up being hired to fight your own team in the rafters of the school auditorium where your child is acting as Guard #2 in his school play.
And that’s not even the worse time she’s been triple-booked.
The time traveling bit is Doctor Kaiza’s fault.
And Anachron’s, obviously, given that it’s Anachron’s power and all, but Diana still blames Doctor Kaiza for the most part. Anachron is more of a fellow victim in this whole thing.
“Shit!” she screams, picks up a worn and faded floral monstrosity of a couch, and chucks it into the charred wall.
Anachron tries very hard to make herself a smaller target.
“Goddamn. Fucking. Shit!” Diana shouts again, grabs the behemoth of a television set with it’s cracked screen and warped frame and throws that as well. The cables show metal through the melted rubber casing, trailing like a comet’s tails.
Find Anachron. Catch her. Take her watch.
It doesn’t matter if Doctor Kaiza meant it with good intentions–hoping to restore Anachron to her proper time or at the very least stop her endless journey–she still sent Diana on an impossible quest and hadn’t warned her of the possible risks.
“When are we?” she asks, near to a growl. Anachron doesn’t flinch, but her fingers shake noticeably as she reaches for the grimy, soot-stained window.
A few moment’s haphazard cleaning gives a decent enough view to the outside world.
Sky nearly orange, but no sunset in sight; neighboring buildings as destroyed and burned as the one they’re in.
It’s not very promising.
A/N:… I guess this means Leanne has another traveling companion besides Bastian. At least temporarily.
Discovering things about my own story as I write random stuff is suuuuper fun.