Falling pieces

[amelia_z]

(Continuation from here)

Amelia feels like she's seen too much. Her brain is full and brimming, actually working clearly for the first time in months. The visions bring some clarity, though it's fleeting. So the witch was right. I need to keep braat away from the blondes.

Babies. Amelia shudders. Ew.Her attitude towards the spherical visitor has

Comments

[amelia_z]

The day is beginning at a gripping thirty-six degrees.

Breakfast is had. The morning news is quickly glanced through. The phone calls begin halfway to Fedya's school. The entourage doesn't stop Amelia from letting a few choice words slip to a reporter as she makes her way "in" for the day. Day in and day out, it's the same thing. You would suppose some of them would get tired of it. There was enough booming in Rhzev these days that they could find something useful to do.

It's 3 o'clock before she remembers to eat again. Today has been a blur of faces and voices. These are the sorts of days when she curses communication technology. She's finally got a quiet moment in her office and she's rapidly going through a pack of crackers. Meinya chimes in on the hour: the open date for the cancer unit at the local center is still pending. The shipment of final MRI scanners is late.

Amelia sighs. That was the news she'd been waiting all day not to hear. The project is already nine months behind, and patience isn't something the waiting list

[_bird_of_flame_]

"You need to eat."

Bette comes in with a tray of food, looking determined. "Don't make me hold you down."

[amelia_z]

Amelia leans onto the desk and gestures. "Two! Two more years they'll drown me with this thing. Watch. They'll drag their feet until there's no damn waiting list left!"

A sigh, she drops her head onto the desk, and after a moment looks up and brightens. "What if I eat and we still go with the latter plan, anyway?"

[_bird_of_flame_]

"I thought we weren't doing that anymore? I'm too much of a distraction or something, I beleive you said?"

She's ignoring the comment about people drowning her with the problems of the situation. Since she can't solve it, she's trying the distraction route.

[ibn_al_xuff]

There is a knock at the door. "Beloved? Are you still here?"

[amelia_z]

"Still here. Still working."

Her focus has shifted to the tiresome amount of memos taken for the day. The morning turned up a flood of people all pointing her to the same thing, a rather nasty slam by some stupid American cowboy senator on MSNBC. She doesn't watch the internet video; more important things.

Like what just walked in. She gives him a smile. "Always working, I'm afraid. Did I miss something important?"

[ibn_al_xuff]

Ibn smirks just a bit as though he's heard that many times. "Overworking is a flaw our family carries in the genes." He leans over the desk and kisses her on the forehead. "I just came by to remind you that we have dinner and ballet with the ambassor and his wife tonight."

[amelia_z]

"Waitwhat?"

She starts shuffling madly through a stack, but any indication of the news on paper seems to be missing. There's a running counter in her head of how many times she's thanked the great 'Whoever' that Ibn is here with her through this-- because half of this she would've face-planted over ages ago. "Is this the wife that chews my ear off about Ceasarian Rome setting the precedent of African abuse, and the model for modern global responsibility?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I think I have the whole thing memorized by now."

[gar_logan]

In his office, in his usual choice of casual suit, he's wearing a wireless headset, checking mountains of paperwork and imagery, all while carrying a conversation on the line.

"No, I believe it was merely a misunderstanding. Miss Zukov did not smash the man's camera. What happened was she tripped into it while walking over to ask something, making it fall and break. She's not the kind of person who'd fly off the handle, or how else would she accomplish the wonderful-yet-difficult projects she has without an amazingly huge property damage bill to accompany it?"

Tripped into it being a technicality. On the day, the photographer had just come out of nowhere, camera flashing brightly, early in the morning.

She had stumbled on something in her path, a small twig or pebble, but she did end up getting her hands on the quite expensive camera, and did some nasty damage to it. Luckily she didn't aim at the operator also. Also fortunate was that it was just film, not a video camera.

Now came the damage control.

[amelia_z]

Amelia's sudden presence does come with a knock preceding it. She peeks in to make sure Gar's not busy before skirting the door closed behind her.

She's got a stack of folders under one arm. Seeing he's on the phone, and realizing what over, she can't help but laugh. That guy needed to be choked with his own camera cord. Now she's pantomiming that a little, followed up with an apathetic wave; not worried. Gar gets the thumbs up.

[gar_logan]

In-between sentences, he's struggling not to chuckle at her little show, responding in kind with his own thumbs up back at her, making a gesture of rolled eyes, pointing towards the headset he was currently on.

"I'm sure we can at least agree on the damages being minimal, and our work being of a lot more importance than a single camera snapping the celebrities. I'm quite sure the insurance you take out will cover it, either that or your offices can take care of the cost of a single camera no doubt. Thank you sir. Good day."

A push of the button on the earpiece ends the call, focusing on the presence in the room as he places his paperwork down for a moment.

"You'd save a stack of work if you just yelled at people instead Amelia. We could blame that on bad days and coffee-less mornings."

[amelia_z]

"And what would you do then? You'd be bored."

She plops down in a seat across from him, holding out a folder across the desk. "I found the list for last year's rabies-shot vet drive. I got a call today from the local control board that bites are down considerably from last year, and they yammered at me a bit about the charities and media venues that want on board for this year. All the contact info's in there, but I'm sure there's a few that play with a bias. It's not an event to turn into a circus, you know? I'd like to narrow the list a little."

"And," with a shining smile, "How would you like dinner and ballet tonight? I'd totally forgotten about the ambassador and his chatty wife, and in all honesty, I need you to save me from talking into my own doom."

[green_shield]

Dr. Mid-Nite is in Moscow in the disguise of Dr. Strong, sipping tea you can use to paint houses.

[amelia_z]

Amelia can't go anywhere without an escort. Today she's dressed fairly covered, and the security entourage is spread out as civilians in the area. It seems like too much to her, but with a standard of 30 death threats a day, Caleb insists on taking the whole thing seriously.

No one is closely privy to this conversation, though. Amelia sets a perfectly normal, though expensive, cup of coffee in front of Strong as she sits down. "Regular clinic visits for females 16-28 is up. That should combat the little cloud over your head at least a bit."

[green_shield]

"Life goal down, an Interpol wanted list to go." Her smile is almost feral. "Still got 'my job?'" It's a very old joke by now. Older then the span she was actually considered "one of the good guys."

[amelia_z]

"Still trying to save the 'good' ones, if that's what you mean," she answers with a scoff and a smile.

"Places like Rhzev create monsters like the ones on that list. And I hope we're not going to have that argument about throwing money at problems again, because I do have the infant death rates for last year-- which are down-- and I think all of those mothers would agree that more incubators was a good idea. We always come back to the quality of life argument, else why would we still both be here doing the same thing on different sides of the coin?"

A beat. "The Molotov-pyro has stopped on the west end."

[amelia_z]

She's ruined everything, somehow.

Amelia meant to save her brother from something she didn't understand. She made too many mistakes. She's done too many wrongs now. There doesn't seem to be a right way. The orb is gone when she thinks to question more. She's too exhausted to be angry about its departure. She doesn't want to see anymore.

She crawls back into bed, pulling the blankets up around her neck. She falls asleep crying, alone.