tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; During the blizzard
Rating; PG?
Characters;

bloodyuseless Frederick Abberline
Summary; After a snowball fight with Faye Valentine, Scarab and Abberline retreat to his apartement since her's has no heat.
Log;

Scarab had rifled her apartement in record time since she didn't have much in the way of personal effects. Her only set of spare clothes were now soaked through, so she reappeared from her bedroom zipped up in her "work clothes"; the black vinyl bodysuit she had first arrived in the city with.
At least it was watertight.

Wet clothes, socks, and underwear neatly bundled in the equally soaked blanket, with a box of darjeeling tea in her other hand Scarab clomped after Frederick toward his apartement in unlaced combat boots due to having no socks to wear for the journey.

Her teeth were chattering in the frigid air, so conversation was kept to a minimum in leu of saving her breath to walk faster.
She had enjoyed thier impromptu snowball fight immensly, but now the concern over catching pneumonia was growing stronger with each cold induced spasm.

"I-I n-never r-r-realized how f-far away your-r p-place was b-before" she commented.

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"That's because you've never walked there in the snow," Frederick commented midly, but he was taking off his outer coat even as he spoke. He tossed it around Scarab's shoulders, leaving his arm there only for a moment before stepping back. It was only a little further, and they were soon inside the building, and then up to his flat.

He unlocked and opened the door, stepping back to let Scarab enter.

Scarab huddled into the coat gratefully, and smiled at him.

"Thanks"

After arriving at his apartement, she toed off her boots near the door, and set her bundle of wet clothes next to her shoes,and sighed in relief for the rush of warm air that rolled over her.

" I think I have icecicles in my hair" she laughed and hung up the borrowed coat.

"Ok, first things first. Do you have alchohol? If so we both need some because I still need to thaw, and your ears are bright red. Secondly; where is your shower and dryer?"

True, Scarab knew perfectly well where his shower was having been here before when he was out, but she didn't want to seem rude. ( That visit was very early on, when she was still highly untrusting. Best to pretend she really did have manners after all.)

"Not quite," he said, bemused smile. She really was quite charming all red-faced and damp. He stripped off his jacket and shoes, gloves and scarf, hanging them up to dry out.

"I do have something," the inspector continued, "and it'll be nice and ready when you're done." He nabbed some dry towels and pointed to the bathroom where the shower was. "Apparently this building is warmer than yours, at the least, the heating is divine. And... dryer?"

" I'm not sure if it's the whole building, or just my place. It would be just my luck if my apartement were the only one with the heat malfunctioning", she said,

" Ya. You know, a big boxy machine you put wet laundry in to dry it off? My place got one on that maintenence day, so I assumed everyone's did.", she shrugged and accepted the dry towels. " If not I can make do with some sturdy twine and just wait for them to air dry."

Another smile, and she made a hasty beeline for the bathroom.

After stripping, and spending a few minutes adjusting the taps until the water was just this side of scalding, She took what may have been the most appreciated bath in history.

Afterwards she was faced with a bit of a problem. Wet vinyl was nearly impossible to put on, and the steam had soaked down her bodysuit.

So after a bit of strategic towel tying she re-imerged in the light tank top she usually wore beneath her bodysuit, and one of the towels wrapped around her waist, with the other over her shouler while she used a corner to dry her hair. Not too bad, really, as the towel almost dragged the floor.

" I left hot water if you want to go next" she said lightly, hoping Abberline's victorian sentiments wouldn't be too upset with the improvised clothes. They were just until her own were wearable agian, after all.

Abberline had no idea what she was talking about. He'd figured out firearms, and the computer, but that was about it.

While she was showering, he went to make some warm food - eggs and bacon and toast, which was the fanciest breakfast he could make without setting the kitchen on fire. Breakfast and liquor sounded amazing - he hoped Scarab ate meat. Some of these new fangled women didn't, which confused him... He passed on the absinthe, but found a bottle of brandy, which would suit them just fine.

He had anticipated the clothing issue, and had laid out some of his own garments if she wanted them - mostly nightclothes, a robe, and a dress shirt. Even if he was a slight man, she was still smaller (if not in much better physical shape), and he didn't know if he had anything that would fit her.

His sentiments might have been flustered a week ago, but he'd adapted well. But those sentiments assured him that, in his case, some snow was no real reason to waste water, and had dried off and changed his clothes while she was changing.

"I'm all right," Frederick said. "Feeling better?"

" Much..thanks" she replied now very distracted by the smell of food.

" You cook? " she grinned at him and noticed the dress shirt laying out. ".. And offer poor destitute women your own clothes." she commented over her shoulder while quickly switching out the towel for the shirt out of view.

The shirt hit her just above the knees, so was more than adequate for coverage, and much more comfortable, besides.

" You have no business being alone, Frederick." she teased after returning with the shirt sleeves rolled up to allow for her smaller stature, and running the little comb she carried through her hair.

" So, where did you learn to throw like that?" she asked refferring to the snowballs that he had never once missed her with, which was really saying something.

Frederick had to stop and stare at her for a moment. Walking out into his living room in nothing with one of his dress shirts... still flushed from the hot water, damp hair... He looked away quickly, and impulsively coughed a bit - and internally berated himself for doing something so obvious. Very smooth, Abberline.

Her comment about being alone sent a dull twitch through him - not quite a jolt of pain, not anymore. "I wasn't..." he said, but trailed off. He held two plates in his hand, and eyed his table skeptically. It was covered with photos and notes and reports and files - not suitable for eating on. He bypassed it and headed to the living room, setting the food down on the coffee table. The sofas would do.

"Ah well," he started, and gave her a small smile. "I grew up in.. let's see, this would all be 1858 or so on up until.." - he shrugged as he prepared their drinks - "..Mid 60s, I suppose. I went to school, but during the winter, we almost never held class. The room would have been snowed in, or the teacher was sick, or we needed to stay home and work. All of it would be done soon, though, and all us kids would get out in the street and just battle all day. For years and years.. all of us, boys and girls. Even the gang kids got in on it, even the rich kids. It was equal ground, every man for himself."

It was hard not to notice when he stared, but this time she met his eyes without hesitation or shyness.
He did have lovelly eyes.

Questions about the recurring shyness started agian, but the quiet "I wasn't..." explained a great deal for just two words.

This man had loved and lost, and perhaps more than once.

Scarab knew that feeling. She knew it all too well, and so followed him into the living room to perch on the sofa with one leg curled beneath her.

It still caught her unawares occasionally. The fact that there was over a two hundred year gap between his time and hers, but the mention of not so much the date, but conditions reminded her of this very improbable fact.

" Ah, a seasoned veteran, then?" she said with a smile.

" When I was a kid, the staff wouldn't allow us outside much, and in Kyoto it didn't snow. Or if it did it was far too polluted to look the same when it finally hit the ground. Once on a winter field trip for school I got to go to a shrine in the mountains, though. I remember thinking everything looked like God had sprinkled the earth with crystals."

She smiled fondly at the memory, and accepted the glass he handed her.

" Seico and I ditched the group and made snow angels until we were soaking wet." She laughed. " I was sick for two weeks after that.

Suddenly realizing how far she had drifted off into memory, and not wanting to follow where it always wanted to lead, she looked down and started cutting her eggs.

" So, um, have there been other extreme weather 'curses' here before?" She asked, hoping to distract herself more than Frederick.

Her eyes were beautiful. But he looked away. He was always -- well, not always -- uncomfortable with being attracted to a woman. The emotions that flitted to the surface of his soul had to fight and claw through so many layers of scarred over pain and bitterness that it hurt to feel it at all. It was easier to just let it sink to the bottom. But sometimes, those little bits of emotion refused to be ignore, and they ripped their way through... like Mary. But the scars were worse now, after her. Thicker and denser and more violent, more willing to shove back against the things that tiptoed up and requested they be let by.

Frederick smiled at her story. "It sounds like it was worth it, though, if only for the memories." Seico... hm. Seico and Scarab. He wondered what her real name was.

The food was all right - he was never a raving fan of his own food, but it was edible. "Ahh.. apparently there was some rather vicious rain a while ago, to the point where giant squid were attacking in the streets."

"Your memory is a monster;" she quoted softly," you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you."

She set her food aside half-finished.

Why did she have to bring up Seico? She was like an animal caught in a trap. Always gnawing at herself to try and get away, but all it ever accomplished was further injury.

" I suppose we got off lucky with just penguins this time around." it was a bad attempt at humor and it showed in her voice.

Starring into the glass she swallowed thickly. Maybe it was all a delayed reaction to the shock of dying but not staying dead. Or maybe she was too disturbed by the city itself.

......Or maybe she was just tired of being lonely

For whatever reason, she made a decision, and forced her eyes back up to meet his.

"Keico."
She applauded herself for keeping her voice even and her eyes off the floor.
It was a dangerous thing in the world of espionage for anyone, friend or foe, to know your name.
Usually it meant death, but in this moment it meant a great deal more.

It meant a change in her self-identity. For right now, at least, she wasn't Scarab.
She wasn't a killer, a thief.....or a lyer.

" My name is Keico."

Frederick was quiet for a long moment while she spoke. Something inside him - it tore. Just a little. Something got through.

He reached across the small table and took her hands in his own, squeezing tight. He didn't say anything - he couldn't. The words just didn't come. This was such an important thing to her, he could tell - and he couldn't bring himself to tell her he didn't care. Not that he felt her admission was unimportant, but that he didn't care if she ever told him her real name or not because she could be called anything and she'd be the same to him. They were dead, they were both dead - it didn't matter any more. But what did this say? Did she trust him that much, so soon?

Her name was Keico.

It was beautiful.

It could have been anything and it would have been beautiful.

She felt Lighter. Giddy and sick, and desperately mournful that it took being dead for her to trust someone.

Smiling like an idiot, her eyes hurt, and soon she was surprised that tears had misted there. She didn't feel like crying, so she blinked them back and let out a shakey sigh.

" I suppose you think I'm completly insane...getting all silly over a name." she said ruefully.

"...But it has been a very long time since I was Keico. Am Keico...damn, I'm not making sense" she shook her head at her own ridiculous behavior, and smiled down at her feet.

She was risking a big trust.
But actually what risk was there? No agents here to find her on some dark night, or Circle of the Noh to send her on some suicidal mission.
Nothing left to hide from here...just herself.

Ah...then there was the risk. The risk of caring, or the risk of letting someone get close.
Because , after all, everyone she got close to ended up dead.

She thought Keico locked away, far from the emotions that would have meant insanity if applied to her life and career as Scarab.
But here?

Who was she here?

...Whoever she wanted to be...

"You can be bloody Anne Bonnie if you want," he said softly. She made perfect sense. It resonated deeply inside of him.

"Keico..." it sounded strange coming from him - his accent giving it an exotic feeling in a different sort of way. "I understand. When you become attached to something for so long..."

He seemed almost embarrassed. He didn't really think he had any sort of right to hear this from her. They barely knew each other - and they were both dead. Here for an eternity, it seemed. Why move so fast? He liked her, yes, and he was attracted to her - but he was afraid, and he was so terrified of setting out again in this. It would take him time to do this. Please understand, Keico...

"It'll be all right."

She laughed.

A real, cleansing laugh that broke the intensity and the twisting in her gut.

" Thank you" she said seriously once it had subsided.

A final squeeze of reassurance that she really was alright, and she let go of his hand.

She didn't expect anything from him. She didn't even think he would react at all.
This was a personal catharsis.

Metamorphosis.

A self-cleansing that let her feel less like a mask and a gun, and more like a person agian. More solid. More real.

He understood that, she thought. He was very perceptive, and therefore must see that this was an old demon that had finally given up the ghost, and let her out of the trap.

No more running from the past.
If this is death, than all bets are closed.

Funny that in death a person can start living.

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Log: Complete

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