Staff Search #9

our tale begins here.



S P E A K I N G // T H I N K I N G

She hadn't forgotten yet, the way it had felt to wake beside him in the morning, and the feeling of not wanting to run away. How she had just wanted to lie there in the weak morning sunlight, and just be for a moment with Riley. About how she had risen from her sleeping state, and shivered from the cold coming in through the open window, and her nakedness. How Suspenders had opened one slitted eye from his perch above Riley's head, and shut it slowly again. How she had quickly closed the blinds so that when Riley opened his eyes he wouldn't instantly die from the pain of so much light after a night filled with so much darkness. She couldn't forget about that morning filled with Riley's soft snores and the way the fuzziness of her housecoat warmed her as she mixed the baileys into her coffee, preemptively making sure that she couldn't get straight, even though she was still a little bit tipsy from the night before.

She couldn't forget the way she had moved around her house, waiting for him to wake up. She had placed a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water beside him and simply watched him for a bit, enjoying the way he slept all slung out, arms protecting his chest. He looked so peaceful that she decided not to wake him. Normally she might get up at six am after sleeping over at someone's house or apartment, and slip away. But Riley was far more fascinating then she had bargained for, and mostly because he had been the one to seduce her. After brushing her teeth and pulling on a long shirt, she toasted herself a piece of bread with nutella on it. She then sat down at the piano to see if a tune would drag itself out of her, but none promised to emerge, all emotions and thoughts completely out of sync with what had happened the night before.

She knew that what had happened was wrong. That Riley belonged to someone, but as terrible as it was, Fenn found herself not caring. She had slept with so many people that had partners or beaus, or even fiances that by now the notion didn't even affect her. It just left a dull ache in the back of her head, as if someone had torn out all the important thinking bits and left her with a brain of mush. She had curled her legs up under her, so that she had to play around her knees as she thought about things, trying to place what it all meant. But her brain tapped idly at nothing as it half listened for movement from up the stairs. It felt like the moment before the storm, waiting for what Riley thought of what happened, wondering if he had hated it, or loved it because stupidly she actually found herself caring.

The whole fact that she cared about anything to do with it was a warning sign. She was Fenn Klardie, she didn't care about things. If he hated her, great. That had been really great last night and she had enjoyed it, so at least one of them would have a happy memory of the evening. Even as her heart hardened against it, she couldn't really lie to herself. She knew that she did care, and that bothered her so damn much that she needed to work off some energy. Falling backwards off of the stool, she caught herself with her own two hands, springing back up onto her feet. Immediately she started off at a run down a long hallway and bounced off a wall for momentum, breathing in deeply to calm herself. She spent some time warming up for a good old free run, but before she knew it, she was slowing down to a halt, because her path had led her right back to him, and the him was sitting up in bed.

Shaking her head, she looked up with a rather forced smile at the orderly who had probably been speaking to her for the last five minutes. She mumbled out a quick thank-you, and then followed the orderly, trailing along like a good little puppy as she led her to a stark white room with paper on a raised bed, and a couple seats beside it. She opted for the bed, and the woman left her, telling her a Doctor would be along for a few minutes. Her hands rested loosely in her lap as she tried not to read the posters lining the walls, the ones the Doctors put there just so that the patient would be freaked out enough to buy every medication in arm's reach. She hated coming here, and had only been here a few times before, and it had always been with her parents.

Her hands clenched in her lap, and she bit her lip, drawing blood as she thought of that forbidden topic. Times like this where she wished she hadn't opted to not bring her flask to the Doctor's office. She could go for a swig of something right now. As she waited, she eyed the alcoholic antiseptic, wondering if she would have time to reach over and take a drink before the Doctor got there, which really helped in passing the time spent waiting. If a sane person were to look at that, they would laugh at how pitiful they had gotten. But for Fenn, it worked to take her mind off of it very well. So when the Doctor came in, she smiled up at him, even though the intense gurgles radiating from down there had still not stopped, and she still wanted to puke all over everything.

It had only started about three days ago as well. Which was exactly a week after the incident. At first she thought that maybe it was the alcohol consumption, more specifically, the increased amount, but alcohol had never made her so sick before. She decided that the doctor's office was the best choice, and now here she was, sitting uncomfortably close to an older man with a fake smile. The situation was so close to home that it almost made her giggle, might have if she didn't feel like such shit. "So honey," he started off, reading something off the forms on his clipboard, "what seems to be the problem?" She easily replied, listing of all the symptoms, wherein he began to ask some very personal questions, such as when the last time she had intercourse had been, how often she got her period, the answer being maybe twice a year.

He looked too thoughtfully at her, and it bothered her. Face slipping into a frown, she stared back just as intently, not one to be cowed. For a moment he stared at her, and then he scribbled something down on his chart, and stood up so suddenly, that Fenn sat back in surprise. Opening a cupboard, he reached in and when he pulled back out, he held a cardboard box in his hand. Turning back around to face her, his face frighteningly neutral, he gave her the box. "You may want to try this, and if it comes back negative, then see me again." She looked down at the box as he left, and she stood to leave as well. Written across the box was a picture of a stick with a plus and minus on it. And there was a happy baby face on it as well, to try and cheer the person up apparently. As realization dawned on her, she stood stock still in horror, hands shaking, and chest breaking.

Suspenders was running through her legs as she made her way into her house, and dropped her purse down on the entrance table. She couldn't keep her eyes off the box, reading getting increasingly difficult as her hands shook so much. Quickly, she crossed over to her alcohol cabinet,and took a swig of the most available thing, which turned out to be whiskey. On the box, it suggested drinking a lot of juice or water before taking the test, but Fenn already had to pee, and hadn't had a glass of orange juice in years anyway. So instead, she just made her way up to her bedroom and unwrapped the test. A slip of instructions came out with it, and reading them her eyes widened in disgust. She was meant to pee on the stick, and then wait five minutes. If there was a plus sign, she was fucked, if there was a negative sign, she was fucked.

Kicking off her heels, she went into the bathroom, and did what was required of her, ever fearful that she would pee on her own hand and then die of the grossness. After washing her hands, using a lot of soap, and then waited for the thing to work, pacing back and forth, leaning over to check over it every now and then from where she had placed it on the table. She didn't know what she was thinking right now. Who was running through her head, blazing a trail, she didn't want to think about it because it was most likely that she was negative anyway. Whatever happened to the fact that she had a one in a million chance of becoming pregnant? The five minutes dragged on and on as she kept checking, until to her horror, she finally started to see the thing slide along.

Holding her head in her hands, she peaked through to see a pink colour. Pink could mean negative though right? Because pink is such a negative colour. She looked at the thing head on. She was never one to not face her foes without at least looking them in the eye. Holding her gaze level with the evil stick's she stared at the pink plus forming on the stupid thing, and she found her legs giving out under her as she realized that the thing was pink and positive. Reaching out, she steadied herself by grabbing onto the edge of her vanity. Staring hard at the stick, wondering if she had gotten the directions wrong. Maybe plus and pink meant that she was safe. Who the hell would want a child, and would want to raise it here. They must be made to make the woman feel good about not getting pregnant.

Picking up the box again, she read the instructions over and over, until the gray skies outside were starting to go darker. She was numb, and when she finally began to become aware of her surroundings, she was sitting on her bed, a cat rubbing against her legs, purring for all it's worth. Slowly, she lifted her shirt up, to glare down at her lower stomach. It didn't look any different. Still well toned and not protruding at all. Not yet at least. Soon, she would get plump with a small child growing inside her. A baby. Maybe a girl, or a boy. Hopefully one of the two because she didn't want to give birth to a baby that was nothing. As she sat there, numb in abject horror and still tenderness, she rested a hand on the spot where the baby would grow, her fear and her excitement dawning in her natural instincts instilled in her since the dawn of time at the least. She let her thoughts wander over to the sperm donor, and with growing horror, she realized that it could only be one person.

An hour later, she found herself on a certain front step, a bag of music in her hand, still untouched, wearing black pumps, red gloves, and a woolen coat. As her hand lifted to rap against the door, she laid her palm against it instead, hearing the sounds coming from inside. The laughter, and the quiet all mixed together to form something completely new. She didn't know what he would say to her, how much he would hate her now, but she was going to do what needed to be done, even if the way his brown eyes stared through her would kill her. So she clenched her hand into a fist, and rapped on the door, hard. Waiting for Mr. Riley Lightwood to answer it so he could hate her more than he already did. Oh Joy.

This wasn't the first time Cassius had faced a door leading to recruiting. What felt like decades ago on that warm day- Lane had been with him then. It only made sense he'd be with Lane this time.

Cassius Clayburn could hear his own pulse in his ears. His hands were sweating and even though his body was nervous, his mind was at ease. There was no possible way they could reject him and Lane. They were perfect specimens. Model citizens, healthy, young and ready to learn all they could from the best teachers in the Capitol. Still, it only made sense to be nervous. The recruiter might be dumber than Cassius gave him credit for.

They didn't get to be interviewed at the same time so Cassius was forced to wait uncomfortably in the hallway before it was his turn. At passing Lane going into the room, his old friend beamed a smile at him and Cassius shot one back. Good. The official isn't completely mindless. As Cassius' interview had gone on he noted everything about the recruiter. The way his eyes didn't quite meet yours, his bad habit of smiling after every sentence and the way he scratched down notes after every answer Cassius had given him. It was unsettling. It made Cassius trip on his words. It was the reason he walked out with a fake smile.

The plain white face of the door was so much like the one back then. Bland and a bit dirty around the doorknob where people had open and closed it all these years. The lobby surrounding it was different- even the wall it was in was some how foreign. A sudden noise shook Cassius from his thoughts and Lane's hand on his back brought him back to reality.
"Wait here a second," Cassius said calmly to Lane before stepping into the office.

It wasn't very difficult. Nothing is when you're the head Peacekeeper of such an important district. He merely mentioned to the recruiter that a former officer was about to walk in and that he should conduct an interview on him. The small man didn't seem too suspicious or bothered by the sudden request.

"Alright Lane. It's all up to you now" Clayburn said, stepping back into the lobby, holding to the door open for Lane.

"To the task force!" Cassius said, raising another shot up for Lane to clink his own glass against. They had been drinking rather heavily and making toasts for the past hour at Lane's apartment. After throwing back the spirits- and maybe a few more quick shots- Clayburn decided it was time to take leave. Congratulating his friend once again, Clayburn stumbled down the stairs and out onto the street. Sagging against the outer wall of the building, Cassius tried to wrap his intoxicated mind around what he had done today. It was a lie. A huge lie- and a stupid one too. When Lane had asked him how the interview had gone Cassius had said wonderfully: that they were both trainees now. A half lie, seeing as one of them was a trainee now.

How could that stupid man reject him? "Maybe in the future- we'll give you a call," the man had said. Cassius was the perfect clay for molding a Peacekeeper. Angry, the young man had stumbled about the District until he had reached the shady side where rush hour had just started. Maybe he belonged here instead of in the nice clean, white Peacekeeper building. Maybe he should march along the streets occupied by desperate women and homeless vagrants. The drunk, inconsolable man had knocked into a larger figure's shoulder. Muttering an apology, Cassius started forward on his aimless path again but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"You lookin' to buy?" the gruff voice had said. Being a younger man, Cassius had spun around and was caught by the small crystals in his the dealer's hand. Some were white, some blue and some were colored red. "Best stuff around- but careful, they're strong."
With spirits blurry his judgement, Cassius had demanded as much he could pay for- which was enough for his mission.

The Peacekeeper building's windows were still illuminated and when Cassius entered the receptionist wasn't at their post. Taking the stairs, Cassius reached the seventh floor. It happened so fast- a counter with coffee for the workers, a slip of the hand and before he knew it the rejected Peacekeeper was walking towards the door with a cup of hot coffee with a little extra in it. The door- it was white, bland and dirty around the doorknob from people closing and opening it for so long without a fresh coat of paint. A sharp knock against the door and he was permitted entrance.

The man had been as idiotic as Cassius had first thought. That's why he was standing there, waiting for Lane to come out with a new title, staring at the familiar door. His crisp white uniform perfectly tailored- not a thread out of place. The Head Peacekeeper of District Four- a model citizen protecting the people of Panem at whatever the cost.