One more hotel room - April 8, 2009
April 8, 2009
Cassandra leaned against the balcony in her hotel room, watching the ocean as the faintest hint of dawn approached. Out there on the bay the lights of some early morning boat cut across the waters. The faint sounds of laughter from some holidaying group reached her ears. Her hand was faintly chilled from the scotch on the rocks that she kept drinking, the faint burn of the liquid going down her throat.
She had meet him again last June. Years after she walked out on him, years after she left the best damn relationship she had ever had. It took her years to figure out why she had left. The words of that meeting tumbled over in her head.
"But honestly. Obviously there was something wrong between us if you felt strongly enough to never come back to me, to us, when your mission completed. Do I wish I knew what it was? Yeah. It would have been information nice to know THEN."
"No... there wasn't. That's the problem, that there wasn't a problem. Rather fucked up, I suppose. I don't handle happy or normal well."
She still loved him. More than Felix, who was the closest match to him she found, and who in the end wasn't quite what she needed. The rest.. dalliances with some of the most powerful names among the awakened. None of them had gotten under her skin the way he did.
It had been a bloody stupid idea to take him to bed that sweating night in June, to let all the old feelings come back. She did it anyway. She let herself feel, let herself remember what it was like to have him as a partner, as a lover, as someone that would be her equal soon. Someone whom she though understood the burdens.
Old habits came back far to easy. Free moments spent with him, discussing politics, discussing business, pondering details of the awakened life. Back and forth the information was shared, leaving each the more knowledgeable. Nights and sometimes days in bed or wherever they happened to find themselves, clothing torn and scattered as he reminded her just how good she could feel.
Business intervened. There was nearly a factional war between two Magisters, and she had to spend the months after Christmas keeping the two from turning a polite disagreement into an all out religious way. Her legacy needed her for instructions, her growing skill as one of their top people meaning that she had still more and more responsibilities. Weeks turned into months and she couldn't leave the middle east without someone becoming twitchy, without everything held together by determination coming apart.
The Announcement of Convocation came. She had smiled to see his name as the liaison for her order, delighted in seeing the potential that she knew was there come full circle. Her contacts were not amused at being told to fuck off for the evening, but she could spare a day there, no more.
He was there, with another woman. All the small signs pointed to his interest in her, how he always had time to talk to her, how he sub consciously leaned in when she spoke. It had been hard for her to watch this with a pleasant smile on her face and teasing words. It was late in the evening when she got him alone on the balcony to speak. The conversation still lingered in her mind.
"I've missed you too. I just know you're always going to have business...business I can't or won't be included in... and I can't deal with that. The whole disappearing after I proposed for years thing, that didn't help."
"I've always been a Guardian.. you knew that was part of my life. I had though.. you understood that part of my life, now. That I would spend the time I could."
"I know. I knew what I was getting into. I guess at some level I always thought eventually I would become part of it. even now, I have colorless clearance, and still what you're doing is confidential."
"When they have this place wired.. it is. My rooms warded. If you want to talk there."
"I can...but we should go back to the bar first. I feel bad Zohar is waiting on us."
The last she saw of him, he was escorting another woman back to her room. That had been four hours ago, and he had still not come. Had not wanted to hear what she had really been up to, had not wanted to know the true depths of Guardian politics and what it meant to be colorless beyond this part of the world. Had not wanted to see her again.
Cassandra tossed the drink back and poured another. It was fair, in a way. She had hurt him by walking out of his life five and a half years ago without a word. It was only fair now that he return the favor, adding in lies about coming to talk with her. About listening to the business about what was really going on. About understanding what it meant to be a Magister of the Prophets in an order full of insane killers.
Morpheaus had told her that sometimes those in the field would know when their number was up. She had had that feeling for two months now, the shiver at the back of her neck and a memory of her grave in Texas. She had wanted one last time with him, one last memory of life and love, before she had to go back to the dark places of the world again. A reason to come back, when everything else that had anchored her to the world had vanished in smoke and fire.
She reached for the bottle again and found it empty. It was fitting that this was likely to be her last night on US soil. Alone in a hotel with more than one bottle of scotch inside her. She could almost hear Casey's voice teasing her about taking everything to seriously.
Dawn was breaking over the ocean, as night was starting to fall where those waiting for her were at. She had given up the chance to be anything else fifteen years ago in a bedroom in D.C, and there was no chance to change everything now. Julie died that night, when she chose duty over love. This was all that was left for her now, the press of being a leader of the Prophets, a Magister of the Guardians of the Veil, a Subtle One whom had reached the peak of her teachings. Simply Cassandra, calling the magic to her with steady hands as she bent space and time to her will once again.
Cassandra stepped through the portal, and was gone, leaving behind only the empty bottles and a single glass marked with lipstick as a memento that she was even there.
Cassandra leaned against the balcony in her hotel room, watching the ocean as the faintest hint of dawn approached. Out there on the bay the lights of some early morning boat cut across the waters. The faint sounds of laughter from some holidaying group reached her ears. Her hand was faintly chilled from the scotch on the rocks that she kept drinking, the faint burn of the liquid going down her throat.
She had meet him again last June. Years after she walked out on him, years after she left the best damn relationship she had ever had. It took her years to figure out why she had left. The words of that meeting tumbled over in her head.
"But honestly. Obviously there was something wrong between us if you felt strongly enough to never come back to me, to us, when your mission completed. Do I wish I knew what it was? Yeah. It would have been information nice to know THEN."
"No... there wasn't. That's the problem, that there wasn't a problem. Rather fucked up, I suppose. I don't handle happy or normal well."
She still loved him. More than Felix, who was the closest match to him she found, and who in the end wasn't quite what she needed. The rest.. dalliances with some of the most powerful names among the awakened. None of them had gotten under her skin the way he did.
It had been a bloody stupid idea to take him to bed that sweating night in June, to let all the old feelings come back. She did it anyway. She let herself feel, let herself remember what it was like to have him as a partner, as a lover, as someone that would be her equal soon. Someone whom she though understood the burdens.
Old habits came back far to easy. Free moments spent with him, discussing politics, discussing business, pondering details of the awakened life. Back and forth the information was shared, leaving each the more knowledgeable. Nights and sometimes days in bed or wherever they happened to find themselves, clothing torn and scattered as he reminded her just how good she could feel.
Business intervened. There was nearly a factional war between two Magisters, and she had to spend the months after Christmas keeping the two from turning a polite disagreement into an all out religious way. Her legacy needed her for instructions, her growing skill as one of their top people meaning that she had still more and more responsibilities. Weeks turned into months and she couldn't leave the middle east without someone becoming twitchy, without everything held together by determination coming apart.
The Announcement of Convocation came. She had smiled to see his name as the liaison for her order, delighted in seeing the potential that she knew was there come full circle. Her contacts were not amused at being told to fuck off for the evening, but she could spare a day there, no more.
He was there, with another woman. All the small signs pointed to his interest in her, how he always had time to talk to her, how he sub consciously leaned in when she spoke. It had been hard for her to watch this with a pleasant smile on her face and teasing words. It was late in the evening when she got him alone on the balcony to speak. The conversation still lingered in her mind.
"I've missed you too. I just know you're always going to have business...business I can't or won't be included in... and I can't deal with that. The whole disappearing after I proposed for years thing, that didn't help."
"I've always been a Guardian.. you knew that was part of my life. I had though.. you understood that part of my life, now. That I would spend the time I could."
"I know. I knew what I was getting into. I guess at some level I always thought eventually I would become part of it. even now, I have colorless clearance, and still what you're doing is confidential."
"When they have this place wired.. it is. My rooms warded. If you want to talk there."
"I can...but we should go back to the bar first. I feel bad Zohar is waiting on us."
The last she saw of him, he was escorting another woman back to her room. That had been four hours ago, and he had still not come. Had not wanted to hear what she had really been up to, had not wanted to know the true depths of Guardian politics and what it meant to be colorless beyond this part of the world. Had not wanted to see her again.
Cassandra tossed the drink back and poured another. It was fair, in a way. She had hurt him by walking out of his life five and a half years ago without a word. It was only fair now that he return the favor, adding in lies about coming to talk with her. About listening to the business about what was really going on. About understanding what it meant to be a Magister of the Prophets in an order full of insane killers.
Morpheaus had told her that sometimes those in the field would know when their number was up. She had had that feeling for two months now, the shiver at the back of her neck and a memory of her grave in Texas. She had wanted one last time with him, one last memory of life and love, before she had to go back to the dark places of the world again. A reason to come back, when everything else that had anchored her to the world had vanished in smoke and fire.
She reached for the bottle again and found it empty. It was fitting that this was likely to be her last night on US soil. Alone in a hotel with more than one bottle of scotch inside her. She could almost hear Casey's voice teasing her about taking everything to seriously.
Dawn was breaking over the ocean, as night was starting to fall where those waiting for her were at. She had given up the chance to be anything else fifteen years ago in a bedroom in D.C, and there was no chance to change everything now. Julie died that night, when she chose duty over love. This was all that was left for her now, the press of being a leader of the Prophets, a Magister of the Guardians of the Veil, a Subtle One whom had reached the peak of her teachings. Simply Cassandra, calling the magic to her with steady hands as she bent space and time to her will once again.
Cassandra stepped through the portal, and was gone, leaving behind only the empty bottles and a single glass marked with lipstick as a memento that she was even there.