geeky_agent | OOM: Will you be in our arms tonight?

Current Music: You're missing, when I close my eyes / You're missing when I see the sun rise

OOM: Will you be in our arms tonight?

July 16, 2012
1:52 AM

For the first time in her life, Chris was grateful for infomercials.

All the network channels, all the news channels were reporting on the nuke. The channels that weren't had updates scrolling at the bottom of the screen and the only exceptions were the kid channels and a few of the MTV channels. She tried watching MTV, they had changed their regular rotation for a carefully-selected roster of videos with songs that were "somber" enough to reflect the mood of the country. Some were the kind of cheesy pap that Chris had expected and could ignore but some weren't and halfway through the third (or fifth) video she changed the channel.

The only thing she wanted right now was to not think about anything. When they arrived at Michelle's house, it was after 10PM and she went straight upstairs to the guest room. When she wasn't crying, when she didn't have that nauseating feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she was just tired.

But she couldn't sleep, not when the same questions kept playing in her mind. Where is Caiti? Is she still alive? How will I tell dad? Oh, God, I don't want to tell him. I have to tell Ryan too. Would she be in Milliways when I go back? Is she at a hospital? Is she hurt? Is she dying? Is she in pain? Please, just let it have been quick, if she has to be dead, let it have been quick.

Jack and Michelle had tried. They tried to get her to eat but she couldn't, she'd already been sick when she was at CTU. They tried to talk to her or comfort her but she had asked both to just leave her alone for a bit. They tried calling the hospitals but a million other people all over the country were trying the same thing tonight.

Pressing the mute button, she looked down at the phone she had in her hand. She'd come downstairs with the intention of calling her brother. That was an hour and a half ego and she still hadn't dialed the numbers, still hoping that if she didn't call it wouldn't be real and breaking down in hysterical sobs everytime she tried.

This time she made it, dialling the numbers on his cell phone. After three rings, she was ready to give up but then he answered.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"She had no reason to go to Morocco either, and I know she was upset about Palmer's death, hell, we all were, but, she still might have gone...anywhere else." If this was a court of law he'd be laughed out of the room.

He's barely aware of what he's doing as he makes a circuit around the table and smashes his fist down onto the glass. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! She's not dead. Until you show me proof I won't believe you or anyone else. She's not dead. She's alive." Because God can't be that cruel and his mom had to believe in something that was good all those years. Even if she died and then dad died and now Caiti...

Distantly he feels pain and looks down to see that he's caused a small crack in the glass tabletop and the throbbing in his hand keeps his thoughts away from the dark matter that is the reality of having lost his baby sister forever.

The back door opens and Jeannie looks out, spotting him and hurrying over. Her feet are bare and her pupils dialated.

"Ryan, I heard a -- " she takes in his expression, her eyes widening as she sees his hand.

"Tell Chris that Caiti is alive and she has to find her," he says, handing the phone over to his wife. His words are delivered in an almost inaudible rasp.

Closing her eyes tightly, Chris tries not to break own again and she wonders if maybe she shouldn't have just agreed with him that Caiti was alive. It wouldn't matter in the end but maybe for now, she should have went along with it.

She hears a crash on the other end, almost like a glass breaking. "Ryan?"

More sounds, like people talking and Chris tries to listen, to figure out what's going on over there.

With a worried look to her husband as he hurried back towards the house, Jeannie took the phone. "Chris? It's me. Listen, Ryan, hurt his hand and I have to go help him. I'll call you back as soon as I can..."

"No, it's fine. I know it's early there," Chris interrupts. Even though she suddenly doesn't want to be alone, after pushing people away the whole day and now sitting in a quiet house, she wants someone to talk to more than anything.

"I'll call later. It's ok."

"Please be careful, Chris," she replies, following Ryan back to the house. "I'll talk to you later, bye."

"Bye," is her simple answer, waiting till she hears the telltale click before hanging up the phone.

She could go upstairs but Chris knew she wasn't going to sleep, she tried that earlier. Even in her dreams she worried about her sister and the first thought she had when she woke was Caiti's gone. Besides, Chris didn't want to wake up Jack.

Instead she curls up on the couch, pulling the throw over herself and watching the muted images on the television.

Jack hadn't been able to sleep; everytime he closed his eyes, the images, the worries just came back, circling his head like water in a drain. Worrying about Chris, the constant battle between praying that Caiti was all right and just couldn't contact them and the near-solid knowledge that she couldn't be. Maybe in the first hour, two, three; it had been easier to believe it then. Everything was still in chaos, it was all too easy for one person to be unable to get around the obstacles to get in contact with them. But then the hours had dragged on, and hope was waning, now only staying as desperation.

He only just knows Caiti; just the little from that one meeting in Morocco, from the few chances they'd had to talk during her stay at their place, and what she'd heard about her from Chris and Ryan. But he knows enough to know that he liked her, that he would have liked to get to know her better, and to be sorry to see someone that young, with that much life, gone. And if that wasn't enough, he knows the father that loves her so much; he loves her sister, and it hurts to see her grieving.

And over it all, the knowledge that they'd failed in the one task they'd been trusted with. That thirteen thousand people were dead, more dying, because they had failed. The number's so large it's almost too big to comprehend, until he thinks of specific people, their neighbours. Even then, it's hard to imagine they're gone, all of them, wiped out in one fell swoop. But then he'd seen the mushroom cloud with his own eyes; been surrounded by the news of death and devastation all day. As hard as it is to comprehend, as much as it seems like a nightmare he wants to wake up from, it's happened. It's actually happened.

He's not going to get to sleep anytime soon; he's not sure he wants to, not after everything that's happened. Besides, Chris still hasn't come to bed; she'd wanted some time alone, but she needs to at least try to get some sleep. Though God knows if he can't, he doesn't know how he can hope that she will.

Quietly, he walks out of Michelle's guest room and downstairs, trying not to wake her. Just a quick check to see how Chris is doing, then he'll head back upstairs; he's not going to stay if she wants to be alone, but he can't help but worry about her.

The television's on, the sound low, and he can't see her head over the top of the couch. Maybe she's managed to nod off from sheer exhaustion. Walking over to one end of the couch, down by her feet, he whispers, "Chris?", hoping that if she's asleep the sound won't wake her.

She heard Jack coming downstairs, saw him approach but she didn't move. Not that she wanted to pretend she was asleep or was trying to avoid him, it just seemed like too much effort.

When he calls her name, she turns over, to look at him. "Hey. I called Ryan."

Jack takes a seat on the edge of the couch, down by her feet. "How is he?" he asks, softly. Not that there were many ways he'd be likely to react to the news.

"He wants me to find Caiti." When she says this she doesn't sound sad, angry or even tired. It's stated in a simple matter-of-fact tone, as if she told Jack her brother and sister-in-law had bought a new house. If she just doesn't think about, it stops hurting, if only for the moment.

"We will," he says, putting a hand on her leg. If there's anything to find. "We're not going to stop looking. We'll...we'll find something."

Everyone had been saying that all day and sometimes, Chris would try to convince herself that they were right. She could imagine seeing Caiti again, hugging her and could imagine a hundred ways that she could still be alive. Perfectly good reasons for her to be safe and sound and why she hadn't called.

She just never believed any of it.

"Do you really think she's alive? Or are you just saying that?"

He's quiet for a minute, not sure he can tell her exactly what he's thinking; not sure it's what he should say. There was hope and there was reason, and then there was what she needed to hear.

"I'm praying that she's alive, and she just hasn't been able to contact us. But I know, realistically..." he pauses a moment, swallowing, "I know that there's next to no chance that she is. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

At least he didn't lie to her.

Chris nods, the lump in her throat making it hard to talk, to breathe. "Yeah," she replies in a strained voice. "That's what I think too."

He looks over at her, just making out her features by the flickering light of the TV. "Like I said, we'll find something." Though he knows--feeling nauseous at the thought--that there might not even be much to find. Much to bury. "I...I wish I could give you something more than that."

Staring at the television, she watches the smiling blonde hostess move around the set, tears in her eyes. The only indication that she's heard Jack is a nod of her head, Chris doesn't look at him.

Jack sits there, gently rubbing her leg for a moment, wishing there was something he could say to make things better. Words can't solve this, though. "Do you want to go lie down upstairs for a little while? It's got to be more comfortable, at least," he asks, finally.

Shaking her head, Chris explains, "I'm not going to sleep, I'd keep you up."

Not that she didn't want to. Sinking into oblivion, not to think about anything, was such a tempting thought.

"I'm not going to sleep either. If you want some time alone, though, you could take the bed for a while, and I can stay down here." Not that it would be running herself into the ground any less, though he can't blame her for that. It's not like it's wholly intentional.

Finally, she meets his eyes, her voice small when she speaks. "I don't want to be alone."

As if the entire situation weren't already heartbreaking, her tone just makes it even more so. "You don't have to be," he says, softly, holding one hand out to her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Taking his hand in hers, she gives it a small squeeze, grateful he's here. Chris moves over on the couch, to give Jack some room, and he lies down next to her, wrapping an arm around her. Already facing Jack, she curls into him, blinking back the tears and trying to focus on how nice it feels to be near him.

Ryan thought their sister might be alive and Chris wanted that so much, she could almost imagine it. But that's all it was, wishful thinking.

Right now, she'd give up anything to make it real.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OOM: Will you be in our arms tonight?

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