Day 05 - Tumblr Posts

Dried and Cracked

Compulsively, she licked her lips, hating that she was unable to stop herself from doing so. They were chapped, dried and cracked, and the moisture transferred by her tongue from her mouth was only making the problem worse.

The wind blew fiercely, water droplets turning to ice pellets as the temperature dropped and night descended on the cold, cold moon. Her jacket did a poor job of keeping her warmth contained to her core and upper limbs, but it was still better than her bare legs that were being repeatedly stung by the precipitation swirling around.

She had thought that the alley would provide more cover but it seemed just the opposite as brutal blasts of wind tore through the narrow space. There were a few resigned individuals sheltering against the walls in clumps of twos and threes, huddling together for shared heat and making the most of whatever scraps of fabric they had to their name. Not a one paid her any attention - and why would they? She had nothing to offer them, no way to ease the chill of the oncoming night. She was just another lost soul drifting along the depressing corridor of Callisto’s biggest city.

Why had she come back here? Why torture herself so?

She was chasing after a ghost.

If she only listened harder, disregarding the howl of the wind and ignoring the steady thump-thump of her own heartbeat, would she catch a haunting refrain from a lone saxophone?

In retrospect it was madness. Gren was gone - Spike had confirmed that. And what insight could he have offered her anyway? He had seen right through her insecurities, had offered up truths about himself that she was unwilling to admit understanding… so what more could he have done for her if he were still alive?

In the end he went off to find answers from Vicious, knowing he was going to his death. Taking her in, helping her, then abandoning her just like Whitney. Well, not exactly like Whitney, that fucking ass. She supposed Gren paralleled Spike more since Spike had also taken off to face down Vicious, swaggering off to court death one final time.

And she was left to pick up the pieces of herself. In the aftermath there were always pieces missing. Shards of herself she could never reclaim. Fragments that died with the people she'd lost. You always lose part of yourself when you lose someone else. Inside jokes, being witness to their fears or fury, even just the simple fact that there would never be interactions with anyone else that would be quite the same.

Her heart was missing entire chunks. A red haired feral child had absconded with a good portion of it, her and the damn dog. There had been sections she couldn't even access until recently and now that her memory had returned it merely meant acknowledging the deeper pain of names and faces and shared experiences all forever beyond reach. And then Spike had nearly broken the remainder when he waltzed off after her confession. What was even the point in admitting she needed him if he wasn't gonna stick around?

Part of her wanted to just sit down and let the cold win. Lie down and let snow blanket her… slow the blood pumping through her body… let her mind drift away…

She licked her lips again as she paused under a flickering streetlight and looked up and down the road. A hint of iron on her tongue. Fuck, her lips were so painfully chapped.

A muffled noise sounded from the pocket of her pilfered jacket - she'd never given it back to Spike and now she never could. Dead men didn't need coats so she refused to feel guilty about it.

Sighing, Faye reached in and withdrew the comm.

"What?" She snapped, sniffling. Her nose was starting to run, great.

"Bounty is on the move. You in position?"

She glanced around, no street sign in evidence anywhere. "Uhh…"

"Never mind. You sound stuffy. Why don't you head back to the ship? I can handle this guy on my own."

Closing her eyes, she struggled to keep from making a troubled face even though she hadn't activated the visual end of her signal so there was no chance Jet could see anyway.

"Jeeeeeeet," she whined. "You already got me out here freezing my ass off. I'll keep my eye open for him, I think I'm in the right spot."

A short pause on his end and then, "...all right. If you make it back before me, there's a crockpot of hot chocolate in the kitchen."

Appreciation bubbled up in her chest, warming her. She inhaled, icy air burning her lungs, and let it out slowly.

"...thanks." It was easier, now that she had full recollection of who she had been before the accident, to be honest with others. Grateful, vulnerable, kind. It still seemed to baffle Jet but he was gradually getting used to the new Faye, but frankly the same was true for her as well.

Perhaps you were right about idolizing camaraderie, Gren. It's terrifying to trust in others… but there are occasions where it seems worth the risk, I suppose.

Movement down the road drew her attention and distracted her from her thoughts. Time to get this show on the road…

Do Better

In the quiet of his tent, long after McIllicuddy went to bed, Appledelhi let his carefree smile fade away.

There was no one around to impress - not that he was the type of man to bother with posturing anyway.

He was single-minded. Dedicated to his dream of mapping the meteors. Undaunted by the challenge of the ever-changing topography of the land.

It was his sole mission these days. After she died... after the fog of grief lifted and revealed the horrible mistake he'd made... after devoting half his life to scouting craters and the other half to investigating each and every orphanage or daycare center he stumbled across... now knowing that Francoise lived, he could focus the whole of his attention to the citizens of Earth. The inhabitants still scratching out a living on the pockmarked surface. The brave souls who chose to live with the sky stretched wide and wild above them despite the risk of being crushed by remnants of the moon still tumbling down...

He had made a promise in the wake of his wife's death... a heartfelt vow to do what he could to prevent accidents like that from claiming more lives... to build a system of warning that could keep people safe from the debris falling from the cosmos. If there was just enough knowledge gleaned... just enough algorithms properly programmed... just enough mapped out to ensure folks stayed alive...

For so long now he had been a man divided. Driven to chase the tails of meteors as they came streaking down, yet distracted by each and every grubby faced child glimpsed from the corner of his eye whenever they were near what remained of civilizations.

At last, at long last... his guilt over losing his daughter was assuaged. She lived... lean and hardy, bright and joyous... she lived perhaps a happier life than she would have had with him.

It was painful to admit that he had failed her after her mother died. He had been in shambles, out of sorts, distraught and devoid of any ability to take care of himself let alone a young child, scarcely more than a toddler. It had been for the best, he told himself again and again over the years, for the best to put her in a place of other children and adults who didn't forget to make meals or spend days wailing in misery or see in their darling child's face the ghost of the love of their life...

He had been a danger to himself and certainly to her as well.

This knowledge did not ever help him sleep at night after he came back to his senses.

By then it had been many months and he had gone many miles. There was no way to backtrack to exactly when he'd had the strength of mind to realize how to shield her, how to provide for her, by... abandoning her.

For years he was plagued with nightmares of what her fate might be. Did she still live? Did she resent him for leaving her? Did she even remember him at all?

Questions with no answer. Questions that served no purpose except to make him depressed.

So he strove to find answers to the other obsession in his life.

There had to be a reason his wife died, after all. It couldn't be pointless. It had to have meaning. He was determined to make something of himself, in her honor and memory.

To create a future for the inhabitants of this woe-begotten world.

His daughter was in good hands. Those gentlemen with her... they would do better for Francois - for Ed - than he ever could. Traipsing around piles of rubble, taking sensor readings of giant holes in the ground, calibrating devices to record the path of moon chunks tumbling tumbling tumbling down... that was no life for a child. No.

She lived, and she lived well. It was for the best.

She deserved caretakers who would do better by her.

She was his heart and soul. She deserved the very best that this universe could offer.

Complete Work

08 Oct 2023

Tags

No Archive Warnings ApplyAlfred Pennyworth & Bruce WayneAlfred Pennyworth Bruce Wayne Dick Grayson(mentioned)Tim Drake(mentioned)Jason Todd(mentioned)Damian Wayne(mentioned) Hurt/Comfort Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth Alfred Pennyworth is the Best Alfred Pennyworth-centricAlfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's Parent Angstober 2023

Summary

Bruce asks about lines on a teacup

Day 5:"Dried and cracked"

Helped written by our amazing friend @alisters-nonsense