femmejosephine | For Cole: The future is now

Entry tags:

cole

For Cole: The future is now

The last couple of weeks had been possibly the worst she had experienced in Darrow. It wasn't anything to do with the job or her flat or anything like that, which was what it might have been before. It was almost always the job before.

The problem was the little stone balls that she couldn't seem to escape. The first time she'd touched one, she'd seen herself as Operations. She wasn't sure how she knew that from just a brief glimpse, but she did. She was standing in the Perch and she looked hard and cold. She looked like Operations. It was the very last thing she wanted to be, but yet she was.

The second time, she'd seen herself shooting Michael. She'd seen him die at her hands, and seen him mouth, "Je t'aime" as his eyes closed. She hadn't known how she killed him or why, but she had, and the betrayal on his face was terrible. His hair had been a different style and she'd had a different weapon, a newer one.

The third time, she'd seen herself in a hospital bed with tubes running everywhere. She seemed to be in a coma, although she couldn't see any physical damage. On the other hand, she'd been covered by a blanket, so who knew? The worst or possibly best part was her mother, bending over her to kiss her. She recognized Roberta, even though she hadn't seen her in at least ten years. Roberta looked much better. She might have actually gotten help. Why couldn't that have happened before Nikita apparently nearly died?

She'd heard from her colleagues at Bondurant's that this kind of thing had been happening. Lots of people had seen what might be their futures, but a lot of them said things about children and grandchildren and money and joy. Hers only showed pain and loss. It fit with her life, but she didn't like it. She wasn't sure if she could handle seeing another future. She'd got rid of the stone ball she bought, and she hoped that was enough, but she wasn't confident of that. She sank heavily onto her couch and put her head in her hands, closing her eyes in frustration and grief.

There wasn't really a sound or a feeling, but suddenly she knew she'd been moved. She was somewhere else, on a couch that felt different, and there was a warm body touching her from shoulder to knee. She didn't look up, though. At this point she almost didn't want to know where she was and what had happened now, although she also felt her instincts sharpen and adrenaline flow in case there was a fight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cole jerks away sharply and ends up on his knees, facing the couch, in an impressive roll. He's got one hand lifted, but no electricity just yet. He blinks when he sees Nikita.

"Uh . . . hi?" he says uncertainly. He lowers his hand, at least. "Where'd you come from?"

It took her a moment to realize that it was Cole, that she was on Cole's couch. In Cole's apartment. Which meant she'd been pushed into his private space before he'd ever asked her to be in it in the worst possible circumstances that didn't involve actual violence.

Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful.

"If you tell me, we'll both know," she replied, and was proud of how normal her voice sounded. Confused, but normal. She didn't sound like she had nearly been in tears a few seconds ago, although it probably still showed on her face.

"Sorry. I'll leave. Didn't mean to ... appear in your flat."

"What? No, no, uh, you're fine," he assures. He straightens up, lowers his hand. "You, uh. Get some powers when I wasn't looking?" That had seemed like a full-on teleport to him, at least, and he's not sure how else to explain it. He's seen some odd things going on in the city — people talking about things they'd seen, talking about these balls they'd found. He hadn't thought much of it. This place has weird shit happening all the time.

But Nikita looks a little freaked out. Well, insofar as Nikita ever sounds freaked out.

"Not that I'm aware of," she replied frankly. Her voice was totally normal now. She hadn't always had this level of control over her voice and her face, but Section had taught her that along with everything else. She'd never be the master of it that Michael was, of course. That made her think of the images she'd seen, of watching him die and seeing how controlled his face hadn't been. Why had she seen that? Was that actually what was going to happen? Was she going to leave Darrow someday and go back to Section? She couldn't even imagine how that would work. She was considered dead. Again.

"I was just sitting in my flat" trying not to cry "and then I was here. Dunno any other way to explain it."

Cole sits on the couch next to her, frowning a little. "I wonder if it has anything to do with those weird balls people've been seeing." He hasn't seen any himself, but a few of his regulars have remarked on them, asking if he'd seen any, telling him the things they've seen. Weird shit always seems to happen to Darrow in groups. Maybe not threes, exactly, but one weird thing always seems to lead right into another.

He sat down next to her, close but not too close, and she resisted the urge to lean on him and tell him everything. She knew that was a terrible idea and would probably get her kicked out of his apartment at the least. But still. She wanted to tell someone about what she'd seen and why it was bothering her.

"You've heard about them too?" she asked. "Have you seen anything?"

"Not personally," he admits. "But there are some regulars on my route that were telling me about some weird shit they were seeing in . . . something." Old Lady Harrison had been really worked up about something she'd seen, but she hadn't let him stick around long enough to reassure her. "You?" he prompts.

He'd left it open enough that she could pretend only her regulars had discussed them and she hadn't seen anything in them at all. He probably didn't know he did, but he had, and she appreciated it.

"Some of my customers have been talking about them, too. Telling me they saw happy futures, kids and money and great jobs. Any of your regulars say they saw bad things?" she hoped she wasn't the only one who'd seen a negative future. That would just be depressing.

"I think so," he says. "But they never wanted to talk about it, y'know?" He thinks about it for a moment, trying to figure out if he'd been able to catch anything from Mrs. Harrison's ramblings the last time he'd seen her. But there's nothing in his memory — nothing that makes sense, anyway.

"Yeah, that makes sense," she agreed, while she was simultaneously relieved that she wasn't the only one. She sort of felt bad for the other people seeing bad futures, but she was glad she hadn't been singled out for it all the same.

"People like to talk about good things. They don't like to talk about bad things."

And wasn't that a loaded statement?

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he agrees. He watches her for a moment, like he wants to ask her something. Then he says, "Well, uh. Want a beer, or something? Can't imagine it's very fun, being somewhere one sec, then bam, somewhere else." He gestures towards his fridge. His apartment is pretty bare, factory-new with just his bike and work shoes against one wall, his bag draped over the handlebars. No decorations, no art. Not even junk mail magazines on the coffee table.

He hadn't done much to decorate his apartment, and now she understood why he was so surprised to see what she'd done to hers. Well, that and how he clearly didn't expect someone who was controlled to have a space that was chaotic.

"You sure? I mean, I can go. I don't think I can go the same way, but it's only a few flights," she offered, although she didn't want to go, really. She didn't want to go back and be alone with her thoughts and her futures.

"Nah, seriously, stick around," he assures. "I don't get many visitors, maybe this is the city's way of remedying that." He winks and stands to grab a pair of beers from the fridge. "Hopefully you don't think this is rat piss or something."

"Can't be any worse than some of the stuff I drank once upon a time," she shrugged. Whether she'dve admitted that if she hadn't been in the slightly less controlled state she was in, she didn't know, but once it was out, she didn't care.

"We can drink to not being kicked out of someone's flat when you appear on their couch nearly in their lap."

He laughs and joins her on the couch, handing over one of the bottles. "Amen," he agrees. He leans, facing her, against the arm opposite her, giving her ample space on the couch. He's not sure, but he thinks he's been getting better at reading her. He hopes, anyway. "What was it like, anyway?" he asks. "Just, pfft—" He makes a vague 'poof' gesture with one hand when he makes the sound. "One minute you're there, the next, here?"

She took the bottle with a quick "Ta" and resisted the urge to sit closer to him. He was giving her space, and she respected that. At any other time, she'd be grateful for it, even. Now, though, she was feeling off-balance by not only her random appearance but the things she'd seen in the stone. She wanted human contact.

"Something like that," she replied. "I had my head in my hands with my eyes closed, so I didn't see if there were flashy lights or whatever. There weren't any noises. Suddenly I was just here. I knew that I'd been moved somewhere, but until I opened my eyes, I didn't have a clue where I was. Glad I was here and not somewhere else."

She was also glad she'd realized it was just Cole quickly, since otherwise she would have been inclined to defend herself and she didn't want to do that to him.

Head in her hands, eyes closed. Cole can't help but think that's kind of a telling position, and it's not like Nikita to say something without measuring her words first. He doesn't know if this is her way of encouraging him to ask, or if it was an uncharacteristic slip. He clears his throat.

"Head in your hands?" he says. "Rough day on the job today?" He always gives her an out.

He was as respectful of her as anyone before Darrow had ever been, except perhaps Gray and Michael (in his own way). Carla had been a friend, yeah, but she'd always been concerned and maybe offended about what Nikita didn't say. Nikita always felt like she was searching everything to determine whether Nikita was hiding something. And of course, she always was.

She felt like Cole knew she was hiding, but only wanted to know what he could. He never pushed. Ever. Even now, he was giving her a way to avoid it. She'd known what she was saying when she said it, and he still let her avoid it if she wanted to.

She didn't. Well, she did, but she didn't.

"God, if only," she replied with a dark chuckle. "I'd take a million customers who were convinced they'd ordered their burger without cheese when they actually asked for extra cheese today."

Cole tilts his head and watches her, then offers a small smile. "That bad, huh?" he asks. It's with only a brief hesitation that he adds, "You wanna talk about it?"

Did she want to talk about it? And if she did, what could she say? She couldn't explain being Operations. Or who Michael was and why she might be shooting him. She couldn't explain her mother thinking she was dead. And if she left out her future(s), then the past was right there, and that was something people liked to know about even less.

"You probably don't want to hear about it," she replied cynically, and sipped her beer, which avoided whether she wanted to talk about it very nicely. "No one ever really does."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear about it," he assures. "I mean, hey, you don't want to talk, that's your call, y'know? But I'll listen if you want to talk about it." He leaned his bottle closer, to clink it against hers.

She watched the bottles clink against each other and considered where to even start, if she was going to start.

"I saw three futures. And they were all horrid in various ways. I don't know if any of them are my real future, but I don't want them to be. But it fits to see them, because my life so far has been pretty horrible. I've always known I don't get a happy ending. I'm not Buttercup," she said.

"Nobody's Buttercup," Cole assures. "I'm definitely no Westley. But one thing I have learned is you build your own ending. No matter what you see, or what you're told. You decide your ending, no one else." He holds his arms out. "Look at me. I died saving the world. Wasn't exactly my grand plan when I dropped outta college, but I think it worked out. I wouldn't change much, y'know?"

"I'd change a lot," she replied, then shook her head. "Everyone says what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and that you wouldn't be the person you were unless you'd gone through the things you did and all that crap. I'm pretty sure the people saying that didn't have an alcoholic, abusive mother who kicked them out when they were twelve because her new boyfriend didn't like them."

There. It was said. And now she waited for the pity.

But the pity doesn't come. Cole has never been one for pity. He'd pitied Bertrand, at the end, maybe, but that's completely different.

Cole makes a thoughtful face and nods. "No, I'm pretty sure they don't have that," he agrees. "And, y'know, I'm pretty sure if you hadn't, you wouldn't be so, y'know, close to the jacket."

He shifts, leaning away from the arm of the couch.

"I'm gonna do something, and if you don't like it, I'll stop, okay? Nothing weird." Then he moves closer, until they're side by side, and he lowers his arm until it's around her shoulders.

She wasn't sure what he was doing or why he was moving towards her, and then he sat next to her and put his arm around her. Just around her shoulders, keeping his hand well away from her chest. She'd had a few men put their arms around her and just "happen" to cop a feel while doing it.

Oh. Well, then. She relaxed into him, feeling how warm he was, how solid. And if he wanted proof that she trusted him, he probably had it. At the same time, she was still ready for him to use her trust against her. That's how it had always been. She never trusted anyone completely. She never could.

"I haven't seen my mother for more than ten years," she said, almost to herself. He was right about why she was closed-off, or at least that her early life had influenced it. Section had made it worse. Nothing in her life had made her more open. Magical cities that had stones to show the future certainly hadn't.

"I never went back after she kicked me out. She never wanted me to go back. Too interested in the booze to be interested in her kid. But one of the futures I saw, I was in a hospital bed, looking like a vegetable with tubes and wires and everything. She was kissing me on the forehead. Probably kissing me goodbye before they pulled the plug."

Edited 2015-04-28 23:30 (UTC)

He frowns. "And . . . you saw different futures?" He wonders if these things are true futures, or just possible ones. It's bizarre, and he's pretty annoyed that they exist. He doesn't like seeing the way it's affecting people — the way it's affecting Nikita. He squeezes her shoulder very gently. "This future thing is fucked up," he mumbles.

"Fucked up past, fucked up future," she replied harshly. "It fits."

As for whether she saw other futures, she considered how to explain them without explaining Section, which wasn't an option. Maybe she could just be vague.

"In another future, I had just killed someone I might have loved, given the right circumstances," she replied. "And in this future, he loved me. And told me so as he died."

Cole's thumb rubs a steady, soothing circle against her shoulder. Carefully, with a measured tone, he asks, "What kind of world are you from?" He wants to know about her, wants to know the secrets she keeps so close.

She took a sip of her beer, feeling like she needed the liquid courage. She never wanted to be her mother, but sometimes booze did help a little. She was just careful to not let it take over. Her mother had never been able to do that.

Besides, it gave her a moment to consider what to say.

"I think it's probably pretty close to this one," she finally replied. "I mean, no vampires or magic or whatever, and the technology's a little better here, but it's not that different."

"But still different," he prompts. He finally voices what his tone has always suggested: "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push. But I'll listen, if you need an ear."

It was kind of him to offer, and she could hear from his tone that he meant it. He'd meant it a few times before, actually. Unfortunately for her but fortunately for his ability to sleep at night, she couldn't explain a lot of her life.

"I appreciate the offer, but there are things I can't talk about. Things I might never be able to talk about," she told him honestly. "It's not so much that I don't want to, although part of it is that. It's more that if I say anything, you'll be in danger."

That sounded dramatic and she knew it, but it was true. And the risk wasn't just from Section. Any of Sections' enemies would be glad to have a friend of an operative to torture.

"As far as I can tell, the people that would come after you aren't in Darrow, but if any of them ever arrive, we're both at risk. If you want to walk away, knowing that, I don't blame you."

She hoped he didn't. She really hoped he didn't. On the other hand every preservation instinct that he had probably told him to do it, though, and she truly wouldn't blame him if he did.

Cole listens to her speak, face neutral, and he waits until she's finished to react. When he does, it's to look up at her, one eyebrow raised in something edging towards amusement.

"Human taser," he reminds. He lifts the hand farthest from her and lets electricity crackle over it, and maybe Nikita can feel it reverberate like a lightning strike across a field, in the hand on her shoulder.

"No matter what's thrown at us, I think we can handle it." Unlike Nikita, Cole isn't used to measuring his words. The 'us' slips right out.

Where was the us from? She was pretty sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded, since they were only recently friends. Well, maybe not recent friends. She was always slow with her friendships, but she supposed they'd probably been friends for a few months now.

The feeling of the electricity jolting through his body was interesting. It was almost a pins and needles feeling, even from just being pressed against him lightly.

"They made Gray, the last guy I dated, disappear. He had a five year old daughter," she warned him. She wasn't absolutely sure Gray had been killed, but she was fairly certain of it. He'd been a loose end and Operations hated those.

"The human taser thing might actually be an extra risk for you. I don't trust any of them not to use that against you somehow. And some of them can be very creative."

"I was dead back home, remember?" he points out. "Not only do I not have anything left to lose, but I also am not afraid of dying. Took on the Beast. Saved the world. You're not scaring me off, Nikita. And neither are they." Whoever 'they' are. Even as he says it firmly, there's still a gentleness there, like he wants to make sure he doesn't upset her in his assertiveness.

She half-smiled at his stubborn insistence that he wasn't giving up on their friendship. It was nice of him, but she didn't completely believe him. There were very few people in the world that could withstand the Torture Twins, if Madeline unleashed them. And they were the "good guys".

"It's a bit funny, you know," she said instead, in a conversational tone. "You being a human taser. At one point, someone used electricity on me. Wet sponges attached to car batteries applied to wet bare skin hurt."

Edited 2015-04-30 03:12 (UTC)

Cole winces on her behalf. "Jesus. I mean, I can't lie, I think it'd just juice me up, but still." He can imagine it being applied to a normal human. He's accidentally electrocuted people. "Is this one of those 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' things, or 'what doesn't kill you pisses you off'?"

She chuckled at the two options he presented. And at the way he admitted that he'd probably enjoy that since it would give him more power.

"It was supposed to be 'what doesn't kill you will make you tell me what I want to know', but it just pissed me off instead," she admitted. "I can be a bit stubborn sometimes."

And she hadn't told them what they wanted to know, either.

"No way," he says with a grin. "You? Stubborn?" He shakes his head. "I don't believe that for a minute." He grins, totally being sarcastic in an effort to lighten the mood.

Cole had traits of Birkoff and Walter in different moments, and yeah, maybe she shouldn't compare one friend to another, but she missed both those guys. She'd love to see them again. Why couldn't her future have showed her something involving them rather than what she'd seen? It would have to be another Section future since they were just as trapped as she had been, as she would be if she ever went back or Section ever arrived here. It would be worth it to see them again, though.

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, and she did feel a little better now. It was probably the combination of the human contact and the determined understanding that Cole was showing. Of course, that only went so far and she was pretty sure it'd change if he knew more about Section and what she'd done for them, but it was nice while it lasted.

"My choices for most of my life have been stubborn or dead. Stubborn is the better option."

Edited 2015-05-13 01:34 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For Cole: The future is now

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject