(no subject)
One month after the night in the hotel, Ellen checks out. She disconnects her phone after the fifteenth call from Tom and officially closes her e-mail account. They're looking for her. Patty's looking for her - and right now, she doesn't want to be found.
She rents a room out of the city, away from the firm, away from the memories. The FBI leaves her alone. As far as they're concerned, the case is closed, and it's meant to stay that way. Ellen would be lying if she said she isn't relieved, in some sense. She's not completely certain that she has the closure she's been searching for, but she'd looked dead into Patty's eyes, the gun in her hands staring her down, and the words that had fallen from Patty's lips had been the sealing proof she'd needed.
Now, she just needs to decide where to go with the truth - and what she'll do with it once she gets there.
The cemetery is only a thirty-minute drive from her temporary home. She knows the route now like the back of her hand, has driven it too many times to count - and still it doesn't feel like enough, still feels like the memory of him is slipping away. Her dreams of him are becoming more faint, and she's having trouble remembering some details, but others are as strong as ever. His smile. The feeling of his fingers threading through hers, as they lay in bed together and she teased him about his receding hairline. The span of his shoulders and the way he squared them. She doesn't want to forget. Even with everything that's happened, with who she's let into her life, she won't allow herself to.
"Things with Patty didn't exactly turn out the way I thought they would, but I got what I needed from her - for now." Ellen looks down at the grave from her position kneeling, reading the name carved into the stone, lifting a gloved hand to trace the engraved letters. It's colder now, getting closer to Christmas with each day that passes, and she draws her coat in tight against herself, keeping the warmth in as she releases a sigh, her breath forming in front of her lips like a fleeting ghost. "It just feels so good to let it all go.
"I met someone." The confession leaves her in the same beat, so suddenly that she doesn't even realize she's uttered the words out loud at first. Things with Wes are - well, they're complicated, at best. He's been moody and distant, much more than normal, and she can't place a finger on why, but she doesn't want to dwell on that now. "I think you'd like him."
She shifts her weight, resting her hands on her knees. There's a decision she's been wavering on, and somehow, sitting here, she's struck with her choice, as if she can feel David here, nudging her towards the right one. She smiles, her voice soft as she speaks, even though she has the strangest feeling that somehow, he already knows what she's about to say. "I got a new job offer, and I think I'm going to take it, so I'll let you know how it goes."
Standing, she brushes her jeans off and starts walking, never saying goodbye, never allowing herself to turn back. She's content with the image of him in her mind's eye, and she doesn't want that last look to be the sight of a gravestone.
A sudden wind picks up and stirs against her cheeks and she starts to blink, reflexively prepared to shiver when she realizes it's warm air, quick and hot and blowing steadily, and the sound of footsteps behind her has her wishing she hadn't stopped carrying her gun as she whirls around, the wind disturbing a few strands of hair and masking whoever it is from view. Ellen lifts a hand, steps and stumbles on unexpectedly shifting ground, tucking her hair behind her ear and trying to focus in on the person approaching her from a distance - and she still hasn't noticed that the rising temperature isn't the only thing that has changed.
"I'm sorry," she calls out, waiting until whoever it is is within a respectable distance. "I thought I was alone."
[ ooc: Traditional debut; the first person can spot her on the beach, near the Dock, but everyone else can either find her either standing on it or walking on the path toward the Compound. ST/LT totally not a problem for me. ]
She rents a room out of the city, away from the firm, away from the memories. The FBI leaves her alone. As far as they're concerned, the case is closed, and it's meant to stay that way. Ellen would be lying if she said she isn't relieved, in some sense. She's not completely certain that she has the closure she's been searching for, but she'd looked dead into Patty's eyes, the gun in her hands staring her down, and the words that had fallen from Patty's lips had been the sealing proof she'd needed.
Now, she just needs to decide where to go with the truth - and what she'll do with it once she gets there.
The cemetery is only a thirty-minute drive from her temporary home. She knows the route now like the back of her hand, has driven it too many times to count - and still it doesn't feel like enough, still feels like the memory of him is slipping away. Her dreams of him are becoming more faint, and she's having trouble remembering some details, but others are as strong as ever. His smile. The feeling of his fingers threading through hers, as they lay in bed together and she teased him about his receding hairline. The span of his shoulders and the way he squared them. She doesn't want to forget. Even with everything that's happened, with who she's let into her life, she won't allow herself to.
"Things with Patty didn't exactly turn out the way I thought they would, but I got what I needed from her - for now." Ellen looks down at the grave from her position kneeling, reading the name carved into the stone, lifting a gloved hand to trace the engraved letters. It's colder now, getting closer to Christmas with each day that passes, and she draws her coat in tight against herself, keeping the warmth in as she releases a sigh, her breath forming in front of her lips like a fleeting ghost. "It just feels so good to let it all go.
"I met someone." The confession leaves her in the same beat, so suddenly that she doesn't even realize she's uttered the words out loud at first. Things with Wes are - well, they're complicated, at best. He's been moody and distant, much more than normal, and she can't place a finger on why, but she doesn't want to dwell on that now. "I think you'd like him."
She shifts her weight, resting her hands on her knees. There's a decision she's been wavering on, and somehow, sitting here, she's struck with her choice, as if she can feel David here, nudging her towards the right one. She smiles, her voice soft as she speaks, even though she has the strangest feeling that somehow, he already knows what she's about to say. "I got a new job offer, and I think I'm going to take it, so I'll let you know how it goes."
Standing, she brushes her jeans off and starts walking, never saying goodbye, never allowing herself to turn back. She's content with the image of him in her mind's eye, and she doesn't want that last look to be the sight of a gravestone.
A sudden wind picks up and stirs against her cheeks and she starts to blink, reflexively prepared to shiver when she realizes it's warm air, quick and hot and blowing steadily, and the sound of footsteps behind her has her wishing she hadn't stopped carrying her gun as she whirls around, the wind disturbing a few strands of hair and masking whoever it is from view. Ellen lifts a hand, steps and stumbles on unexpectedly shifting ground, tucking her hair behind her ear and trying to focus in on the person approaching her from a distance - and she still hasn't noticed that the rising temperature isn't the only thing that has changed.
"I'm sorry," she calls out, waiting until whoever it is is within a respectable distance. "I thought I was alone."
[ ooc: Traditional debut; the first person can spot her on the beach, near the Dock, but everyone else can either find her either standing on it or walking on the path toward the Compound. ST/LT totally not a problem for me. ]