One could not tell by the expression on Inga's face if she was enjoying this or not. "No, Callie, these came to my attention quite unexpectantly. Of course unlike you, I was not surprised. Your Alexander was never really one to keep promises or keep his hands, mostly dick, to himself. Its the need to be the center of attention and getting what HE wants no matter whom it hurts. Like David." She handed her another set of pictures of Alex in bed with Carolina. "Do you think she will be next? I must say he at least keeps it in the family. For a while."
"I must commend you, Callie. You do put up with so much on Alexander's behalf. Most women would not tolerate the things he has done... especially behind their backs. Breaking promises whispered in the night or in the heat of the moment. But of course Alexander's promises only last for those moments. Once the moment has passed, so has the promise. As you can see. So... you going to take her in as well? Invite her into your bed? Watch Alex fuck her and make her get this look upon her face as he says he loves her like he loves you? You do take in so many strays and try to love them?"
"Makes one wonder... what else has he done. And when he says he loves you... does he truly and honestly mean it?"
"He does," and it's only at the last minute, realizing what she's doing as her eyes widen, that she flips her wrist and the gun shoots towards the ground, in front of Inga. The folders fall too, the pictures scattered on the concrete.
Callie can't believe she's taken the gun out on someone, not even somone like Inga. Pale, white with shock, she steps back, and again, still holding the gun tight, panting as if she's just been running a mile, her blood thundering in her ears.
Inga finally shows something and it's a jump back and a flash of a look of brief panic. It takes a moment before the screen returns to her face and for her voice to level to normal. "Funny how he shows it, Callie. By fucking his student. Whispering he loves her in her ear then comes home to you and crawls into your bed telling you the same thing. Is he speaking of you when he does or is he thinking of all the others he has been with. He does the same thing with his own daughter. Tell me, what's going to be like if you have a child with him. Callie? What kind of home will you be raising your child in with him around?"
"You shoot at me as if I am the problem but what I tell you is only what Alexander has done himself. You know... he could have prevented all of this but he didn't, something else meant more to him than you. The truth hurts, Callie. I know it does. I'm not your enemy. I am only asking the questions of you that you are afraid to ask. I tell you the things and show you the things you are afraid to see." She keeps her voice level if not softer.
"You...you," Callie gestures with the hand holding the gun, pointing it at Inga, then lowering it again.
It's really too much to take it, way too much, each single word like a bullet, a stone in her flesh. "What do you want from me?" And although the words are angry, there's an underlying quiver of pain too.
Inga's eyes followed the gun, her body leaning back a little before she looked to Callie. Her head tipped up a little then back down, "I think you should be asking Alexander that question. He is the one using you, not me. What I'm really doing is helping you in a way. I'm helping you see what he is trying to conceal from your eyes. You think he is doing it to protect you but he's not. What is he really protecting your from, Callie. He has everything to gain by lying to you. He gets to keep running around and keep you while you loose everything and live in a false world."
"The world has always been false to me," Callie literally pants the words, knuckles paper-white on the gun. "And you'd be helping me for...what? Out of your good heart, Inga? You don't have one."
Aleksandr is another thing entirely. Yes, she was told. Yes, she suspected, more than once. And yes, he'd told her some in between the lines. Seeing the pictures hurts all the same.
Inga is quite aware of the gun. She is quite aware of Callie's anger. "You are not angry at me, Callie." She continues to speak softly even as she crouches down and picks up on of the pictures and holds it up. "I've done nothing but shown you what you have already suspected. Possibly even knew. You only hate me now because I showed it to you. Words are one thing but seeing is another."
"You are like a flower, Callie. Growing so beautifully in the garden he has provided. But yet the gardner has gone away. Sowing his oats out in the field. Someone else's field. Leaving you unattended. Ignored. Letting you wither slowly away. Only feeding you attention when it is convenient for him."
"When do you get his attentions, Callie? When he comes home reeking of other men or women? After days of being gone doing god knows what? Flashing you his smile, giving you little trinkets. Putting you in a big lovely home so you will be happy. Telling you its all for you. Everything he does is to keep you safe. Safe from what, Callie? Or is it his way to keep track of you while he goes and does what HE wants to do. What HE desires and when he comes home, he knows you will be there none the wiser. Just the naive little flower giving her love to him."
"Let me ask you, Callie. What have you gained? What have you lost? Friends, other loved ones? Do you really think he wants a child? Or is it just another show to keep you happy? To keep you from leaving him because he wants it all. When is it his turn to give something up for you? Is not a relationship a give and take? So far... he has been doing all the taking while you have been doing all the giving."
Each single word hits a specific target, digging down, hooking with rampoons, tearing its way where it hurts more.
A second bullet makes the gravel in front of Inga's feet, and a third hits close to that. It's all that Callie can do to keep from shooting the woman in front of her.
"Leave me alone, Inga. Leave me alone, or I swear..." the answers to Inga's questions are not for her ears, Callie is not going to give her more ammo against herself, but she has a question. "And what have you lost, that you want to taint what others have?"
The gravel flies, Inga has to turn her head and swallow down anything that threatens to come out. She backed up, giving Callie that much. But cold blue eyes gaze back to the woman with the gun. She knows she had poked at the flesh wound and now had turned it worse. "You know that answer, Callie. At least I am willing to fight. At least I can stand up. And Callie, I did not taint what you have." She flicked the picture in her hand to join the others, "That has tainted what you have. And you let it happen."
The first instinct is to protect. Always. No matter what. From wherever it comes, Callie has no idea, doesn't remember, but it's so strong it includes friends and enemies alike. Even Inga. And Callie can't believe she's actually pressed the trigger, pointed her gun at the woman...it's as huge to swallow as what Inga has been saying, as the images she'sbeen showing her.
"Just leave me alone. Leave me alone." There are no tears, not yet, not in front of her. Not in front of anyone, this time. One thing is clear to Callie now, how Inga sees the cracks, the thin lines where the pieces fit together and works at them, to make them wider, to break them apart.
"You want Michael. But you're not going to have him. Not because of me."
And she has to turn then, turn and start walking away, terrified of the way she's gripping the gun, terrified of how much she want to press that trigger again, terrified of letting herself see those pictures again.
Inga had always been good at finding the cracks, walking the thin line and still yet not make herself look like the total enemy. She found the founds and picked at them till she was able to get to the raw and attack. Tearing way till the wound was exposed and left to fester. She did it with Alex... she accomplished it with Callie.
Inga waited till Callie was out of rang before gathering up the pictures to place in an envelop and mail them to her. After all, would she not need the evidence or a reminder of what had transpired?
"I must commend you, Callie. You do put up with so much on Alexander's behalf. Most women would not tolerate the things he has done... especially behind their backs. Breaking promises whispered in the night or in the heat of the moment. But of course Alexander's promises only last for those moments. Once the moment has passed, so has the promise. As you can see. So... you going to take her in as well? Invite her into your bed? Watch Alex fuck her and make her get this look upon her face as he says he loves her like he loves you? You do take in so many strays and try to love them?"
"Makes one wonder... what else has he done. And when he says he loves you... does he truly and honestly mean it?"
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Callie can't believe she's taken the gun out on someone, not even somone like Inga. Pale, white with shock, she steps back, and again, still holding the gun tight, panting as if she's just been running a mile, her blood thundering in her ears.
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"You shoot at me as if I am the problem but what I tell you is only what Alexander has done himself. You know... he could have prevented all of this but he didn't, something else meant more to him than you. The truth hurts, Callie. I know it does. I'm not your enemy. I am only asking the questions of you that you are afraid to ask. I tell you the things and show you the things you are afraid to see." She keeps her voice level if not softer.
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It's really too much to take it, way too much, each single word like a bullet, a stone in her flesh. "What do you want from me?" And although the words are angry, there's an underlying quiver of pain too.
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Aleksandr is another thing entirely. Yes, she was told. Yes, she suspected, more than once. And yes, he'd told her some in between the lines. Seeing the pictures hurts all the same.
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"You are like a flower, Callie. Growing so beautifully in the garden he has provided. But yet the gardner has gone away. Sowing his oats out in the field. Someone else's field. Leaving you unattended. Ignored. Letting you wither slowly away. Only feeding you attention when it is convenient for him."
"When do you get his attentions, Callie? When he comes home reeking of other men or women? After days of being gone doing god knows what? Flashing you his smile, giving you little trinkets. Putting you in a big lovely home so you will be happy. Telling you its all for you. Everything he does is to keep you safe. Safe from what, Callie? Or is it his way to keep track of you while he goes and does what HE wants to do. What HE desires and when he comes home, he knows you will be there none the wiser. Just the naive little flower giving her love to him."
"Let me ask you, Callie. What have you gained? What have you lost? Friends, other loved ones? Do you really think he wants a child? Or is it just another show to keep you happy? To keep you from leaving him because he wants it all. When is it his turn to give something up for you? Is not a relationship a give and take? So far... he has been doing all the taking while you have been doing all the giving."
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A second bullet makes the gravel in front of Inga's feet, and a third hits close to that. It's all that Callie can do to keep from shooting the woman in front of her.
"Leave me alone, Inga. Leave me alone, or I swear..." the answers to Inga's questions are not for her ears, Callie is not going to give her more ammo against herself, but she has a question. "And what have you lost, that you want to taint what others have?"
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"Just leave me alone. Leave me alone." There are no tears, not yet, not in front of her. Not in front of anyone, this time. One thing is clear to Callie now, how Inga sees the cracks, the thin lines where the pieces fit together and works at them, to make them wider, to break them apart.
"You want Michael. But you're not going to have him. Not because of me."
And she has to turn then, turn and start walking away, terrified of the way she's gripping the gun, terrified of how much she want to press that trigger again, terrified of letting herself see those pictures again.
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Inga waited till Callie was out of rang before gathering up the pictures to place in an envelop and mail them to her. After all, would she not need the evidence or a reminder of what had transpired?
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God though it was fun. I fangirled you both in ST.
You both get milk and cookies for this. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Hugs and kisses.
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