Freedom

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

This morning starts like any other morning. There were no restless points the night before, no enthusiasm-based insomnia, and this morning is cold and groggy.

As per usual, Amelia is awake disturbingly early. At five AM, she begins to collect her things. She has no one to say goodbye to, so the following four hours are spent packing in silence and solitude. For the first time in many years, Amelia's mind is clear.

When everything has been packed, the room looks like the only bit of life that might've ever breathed into it has been sucked out. It's become another dead cell, cleaned and prepped for someone else's humiliation.

Amelia covers her eyes, and closes the door.

There's two hours of meetings with her various doctors during her stay, and her lawyer. Then it's time to make the appearance in court. The warden and psychiatric head are kinder than she thought they'd be. Dr. Tomin is not, but Amelia keeps a neutral face and answers as best she can. The judge reiterates all the information of her release, but finally it's done. She signs a head-spinning amount of paperwork.

At seven after two-- at least, Eastern Standard Time-- she's on her way back to her big, empty house for the first time in many months. Setting down her things in the front hallway makes an echo. She closes the door, shutting out the snow and wind.

Comments

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"You were given a reasonable amount of time to mourn for what was you," she says coldly. "Let me do the same. I want everyone to stop telling me what I did was understandable and just let me feel awful for a while."

She takes another swig. Then, she snickers. "I thought I might try to put you and Tara together. You can't tell me that isn't crazy. And side-splittingly funny. But mostly crazy."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

That strikes Caleb as completely reasonable. Losing fifteen years would be a rather large loss to cope with for anyone to handle, let alone a teenager. There's no telling how long a grieving process one might require to accept such a thing.

The cycle goes denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

She moved through denial quickly. She ran from the room and demanded a phone.

She spent her time in anger, lashing out at everyone and everything, looking for every excuse she could find to legitimize her rage.

She spent her time bargaining with fate, hoping to correct things by removing 'the Witch.' Taking matters into her own hands always has been such an Amelia way to approach matters.

Depression is a rather dreary place to be, but it's the next step in her healing.

"I think she'd act on the desire to choke me to death one night," he snickers. "I'd just... I'd just go to sleep, and wake up with her hands just sort of crushing my throat."

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Who's surprised you're still arrogant enough to believe it's a foregone conclusion you could get far enough that she'd want to choke you in your sleep? Five-hundred says she'd kick you in the family jewels if you insinuated."

She cracks a small smile. "Better yet, I think she'd knock your lights out for asking even before the Emerald Knight chewtoy got to you."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Braat dismisses the notion with a wave. "I could handle Lantern," he says confidently.

After a beat, "I think," he adds, somewhat less so. "Not that I'd want to try, of course. He's rather creative."

Caleb stops to appreciate the warmth from the fire, telekinetically levitating pages off of the pile and into the flame one after another.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Please remember the side-splittingly funny and crazy part?"

That'd be like nailing two rabid badgers into a crate. And if it ever happens, by some curse of God, Amelia will be prepared with the clue-by-four. "Besides, you've been insane once already."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

"So there's no sense in relapsing, then."

"While, uh ... while we're on the subject, it was good to see you two speaking again."

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia scoffs as she tosses another handful of papers in. After a second, she reaches for one of the pokers and pushes a burning stack of papers farther back in the fireplace. She puts the screen up again and shrugs, looking over at Caleb. "I didn't think she'd even show."

Caleb will get a playful punch in the arm as his little sister looks back to the fire. "Spasiba. I, uh... I guess I've got to catch up with her... now that everything's done."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

"It couldn't hurt," he acknowledges. "Though - slight non-sequitur - um .... How, uh ... There is one thing I've been wanting to ask you."

He stares at the fire for a moment, asking himself one last time if he really wants to ask.

Of course I do.

"Obnoxious workaholic?"

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia stares at him for a few seconds, face neutral except for one confused brow.

Then she cracks up, flopping over on him as she's overcome with laughter. "[What's this? Awwww! Did your feelings get hurt when I was out of my mind? You big baby!]"

She backs off, still laughing and poking him in the arm. "I try to kill you and that's what hurts your feelings? That? Haven't we established that I was Super Mecha-Streisand level bitch? C'mon, give me some credit, I came up with way nastier things than that!"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words abandon him. After a few seconds he slips into laughter himself, and even turns slightly red. He feels quite foolish, just now.

"Well, yes, but ..." He dawns his 'neener' face, and theatrically waves a fist. "One of these days, Amelia! ONE OF THESE DAYS!"

It's good to be laughing with her again.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Ooh! Ooh! I liked my 'you can't do this to me' tantrum! That was the best!" she says like an excited little kid.

"What'd I say? Communist? Did I actually call you a communist? You need therapy or Jesus or something, because 'workaholic' should not be that bad."

A pause.

"Calling Hawkins 'Toto' was way worse."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

"I believe 'rat dog' was the icing on that particular cake, Bird."

"And hey, I didn't exactly get bent out of shape as often as I should have. After all, you still don't know I found the cocaine..."

Right. Wasn't going to say anything. Not fully recovered yet. "I've got to stop doing that."

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

The smile disappears from Amelia's face. She looks like she's been slapped.

"It was the summer you moved out. Maybe I was trying to do something you couldn't protect me from," she says indignantly. Does Caleb even know what it's like to go through life wearing kid gloves for everything and having a pillow between you and every consequence?

"Look, I never picked it up again when I woke up. I know what kind of smear campaign my 'friends' ran after I went under. There's a lot you didn't know, because I needed to have my life without being under everybody's umbrella. A lot of it was true. And part of my psychosis, I guess-- I knew I wasn't that good underneath. All those little details everybody conveniently overlooked added up to something. I saw the same in Corrine. I thought we made perfect enemies; whoever wrote the prophecy knew that. Nobody made anything happen, someone just knew. I was bad before the sickness."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He knows she's right - he has always been a little too good at what he did. He managed to insulate her from so much trouble that it had to feel like she was going through life on safe mode.

"I was just trying to help," he offers meekly. "I just couldn't stand the thought of Father's temper turning on you one day. He had ... he had already decided he didn't like me, but you were different. You didn't need to go through that."

"I didn't mean to be ... over-zealous."

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

'Feel like'?

Amelia would call that an understatement.

"I know you had good intentions." A small, if weak, smile. "It's what the two of us have, eh?"