Liz Sherman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
open_flame) wrote2010-01-07 10:39 am
open_flame) wrote2010-01-07 10:39 am
Entry tags:
Who will forgive whom? - Tag ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
graylikeme
What would happen if Liz's yearly distraction mission on the anniversary of the day she killed her family was to try to recruit a watchmaker from Queens to the BPRD?
Featuring the illustrious and amazinggraylikeme in the role of Gabriel Gray.
I don’t need to check the calendar. I know what day it is. The worst day of the year. Everyone at the Bureau has been walking on eggshells like they do every year. Don’t mention it. Don’t upset her. Give her an easy mission to make her feel useful and better about herself.
Right.
I grab the file off my bed and read though it slowly. Queens….great. Still, it beats the hell out of sitting around here all day with my thoughts. I don’t want that, even though it’s what they don’t want as well. For once, the powers that be of the BPRD and I agree on something. If I don’t get out of this place and get my mind off what I did in Kansas, I will…do something I’ll regret. Or maybe...I wouldn’t regret it. Been thinking about it enough lately, but I never have the guts to even touch that big gun in the bottom of my dresser. It took a lot of cash and time to find a shop to sell me one without a background check. All that time and energy, and I can’t even work up the courage to pick it up, put it to my head and pull the trigger.
The plane ride is quick. At first I entertain the idea of it just dropping out of the sky, like planes do sometimes. That would make it easy. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to end my life. Of course, I don’t want to take the pilot with me, and I can hear Manning bitching in my head about how much it would cost to replace the plane. It’s the little one, not the big jet. I could have driven, but…I guess Manning could spare the puddle jumper before one of the cars. They never want to leave me ALL alone today. Guess they’re not so stupid after all. At least the pilot won’t be following me to Queens. Sad eyes work pretty well to get what you want sometimes.
I distract myself from the thoughts of the day my family died by reading the file over. Gabriel Gray, a watchmaker. He’s been talking to that Chandra Suresh. They say Suresh is a complete wack-job. Lovely. He probably another one of those that thinks we’re to be studied, researched. Like we’re some sort of wonderful evolution that means everything’s going to be OK. Sparkles and rainbows and sunshine and gifts from God and all that bullshit.
It’s not a gift. It’s a curse. We’re not special. We’re…freaks.
Still, this Gabriel has something new. Something the Bureau hasn’t seen before, and Manning wants him. Or wants his power on the payroll, more accurately. Intuitive aptitude. He can see how anything works. Would be a nice skill to have around the Bureau. Maybe he can fix that damn drippy shower finally.
I take a cab to the shop in Queens. Gray & Sons. It looks like an ordinary watch shop. But I know better than most that things are not always what they seem. I step out of the cab, the bits of the watch we had Red smash in an envelope. Like anyone could actually fix this, but we need a cover. Something to get him talking about what he could do and hopefully convince him to come with me back to BPRD. We could use some new blood that doesn’t get killed or quit in less than a month.
I put on that great fake smile I’ve perfected and push the door to the shop open. “Hello?” It looks spotless, like my room. A place for everything and everything in its place. The gently ticking of the array of clocks on the wall is almost soothing, like a meditation or a song. Maybe I should get a clock.
“Mr. Gray?” I move a little farther back in the shop. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe be went out for lunch or something? “Come out come out where ever you are.”
I throw caution to the wind and push back to the rear of the shop. Hopefully he won’t mind that I…
FUCK! My hand is up with a small fireball in an instant, a flick of my wrist spinning it towards the rope tied around the mans neck. He hits the ground with loud thud as I drop the envelope and rush over to him, grabbing his head to make him look at me as he gasps from air. The rope is still circling his neck, those eyes filled with an all to familiar look of pain and regret. We’re both pulling at it, trying to get his airflow back to him. A rope? Never thought of trying it that way. I wonder if it hurts less than a bullet. If the rope was a little longer your neck would probably just snap before you even had time to suffocate..
Do your job, Lizzie!
“ Are you alright?” I try not to sound panicked myself. This is NOT what this was supposed to be. Who the FUCK sends a suicidal girl to go talk to a suicidal man and offer him a fucking job? Fucking Manning! He could maybe have them do a tiny bit more research. We know the guy likes tea, but we didn’t know he wanted to off himself?
He’s gasping for air, looking at me like I’m some kind of devil…or angel. “Hey, come on. Say something.” What’s he thinking? God I wish Abe was here.
His eyes gloss over with wetness, his face twisted up in pain as he leans in closer to me. I don’t know what to do or say or even think. Does he want…a hug? Would a hug even help? Hugs are supposed to help right?
“Forgive me.” He wheezes as I pull him close to my chest, without really meaning to.
Forgive him? For what?
Featuring the illustrious and amazing
graylikeme in the role of Gabriel Gray.I don’t need to check the calendar. I know what day it is. The worst day of the year. Everyone at the Bureau has been walking on eggshells like they do every year. Don’t mention it. Don’t upset her. Give her an easy mission to make her feel useful and better about herself.
Right.
I grab the file off my bed and read though it slowly. Queens….great. Still, it beats the hell out of sitting around here all day with my thoughts. I don’t want that, even though it’s what they don’t want as well. For once, the powers that be of the BPRD and I agree on something. If I don’t get out of this place and get my mind off what I did in Kansas, I will…do something I’ll regret. Or maybe...I wouldn’t regret it. Been thinking about it enough lately, but I never have the guts to even touch that big gun in the bottom of my dresser. It took a lot of cash and time to find a shop to sell me one without a background check. All that time and energy, and I can’t even work up the courage to pick it up, put it to my head and pull the trigger.
The plane ride is quick. At first I entertain the idea of it just dropping out of the sky, like planes do sometimes. That would make it easy. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to end my life. Of course, I don’t want to take the pilot with me, and I can hear Manning bitching in my head about how much it would cost to replace the plane. It’s the little one, not the big jet. I could have driven, but…I guess Manning could spare the puddle jumper before one of the cars. They never want to leave me ALL alone today. Guess they’re not so stupid after all. At least the pilot won’t be following me to Queens. Sad eyes work pretty well to get what you want sometimes.
I distract myself from the thoughts of the day my family died by reading the file over. Gabriel Gray, a watchmaker. He’s been talking to that Chandra Suresh. They say Suresh is a complete wack-job. Lovely. He probably another one of those that thinks we’re to be studied, researched. Like we’re some sort of wonderful evolution that means everything’s going to be OK. Sparkles and rainbows and sunshine and gifts from God and all that bullshit.
It’s not a gift. It’s a curse. We’re not special. We’re…freaks.
Still, this Gabriel has something new. Something the Bureau hasn’t seen before, and Manning wants him. Or wants his power on the payroll, more accurately. Intuitive aptitude. He can see how anything works. Would be a nice skill to have around the Bureau. Maybe he can fix that damn drippy shower finally.
I take a cab to the shop in Queens. Gray & Sons. It looks like an ordinary watch shop. But I know better than most that things are not always what they seem. I step out of the cab, the bits of the watch we had Red smash in an envelope. Like anyone could actually fix this, but we need a cover. Something to get him talking about what he could do and hopefully convince him to come with me back to BPRD. We could use some new blood that doesn’t get killed or quit in less than a month.
I put on that great fake smile I’ve perfected and push the door to the shop open. “Hello?” It looks spotless, like my room. A place for everything and everything in its place. The gently ticking of the array of clocks on the wall is almost soothing, like a meditation or a song. Maybe I should get a clock.
“Mr. Gray?” I move a little farther back in the shop. He’s supposed to be here. Maybe be went out for lunch or something? “Come out come out where ever you are.”
I throw caution to the wind and push back to the rear of the shop. Hopefully he won’t mind that I…
FUCK! My hand is up with a small fireball in an instant, a flick of my wrist spinning it towards the rope tied around the mans neck. He hits the ground with loud thud as I drop the envelope and rush over to him, grabbing his head to make him look at me as he gasps from air. The rope is still circling his neck, those eyes filled with an all to familiar look of pain and regret. We’re both pulling at it, trying to get his airflow back to him. A rope? Never thought of trying it that way. I wonder if it hurts less than a bullet. If the rope was a little longer your neck would probably just snap before you even had time to suffocate..
Do your job, Lizzie!
“ Are you alright?” I try not to sound panicked myself. This is NOT what this was supposed to be. Who the FUCK sends a suicidal girl to go talk to a suicidal man and offer him a fucking job? Fucking Manning! He could maybe have them do a tiny bit more research. We know the guy likes tea, but we didn’t know he wanted to off himself?
He’s gasping for air, looking at me like I’m some kind of devil…or angel. “Hey, come on. Say something.” What’s he thinking? God I wish Abe was here.
His eyes gloss over with wetness, his face twisted up in pain as he leans in closer to me. I don’t know what to do or say or even think. Does he want…a hug? Would a hug even help? Hugs are supposed to help right?
“Forgive me.” He wheezes as I pull him close to my chest, without really meaning to.
Forgive him? For what?
no subject
Standing outside with Liz and locking up, I have a profound sense of how lonely this is. I'm getting the chance of a lifetime, literally a second chance and... there's no one to share it with. No one that can be happy for me or who'd even miss me. I brush a finger briefly over the marks I know have to be on my neck and then step back, giving the store a last look. I don't know when I'll be back, I don't know how the whole Bureau thing works. I do know that I wouldn't want to sell the store though.
"So, quick stop by my apartment and right to Newark then? Promise I won't try to impress girls on the way." As if I would, but I feel the need to at least try to joke back with her. She's trying, I'm trying.
no subject
"It's a nice shop. Have you had it long?" I skipped the personal history part of his file. I honestly didn't expect him to say yes. And if he did, I expected it to take a few days to settle things. In fact, I'm a bit at a lose as to how to handle it that he wants to come back today. We usually have more time to set this up but...is it hypocritical to say I don't want to leave him alone?
"Yeah, we can go back today." I'll have to call Kate Corrigan while he's packing up and let her know to expect us back today. She'll figure something out. She always does. "Is your apartment far?" I squint in the sunlight and put on the obligatory special agent sunglasses. "I'll make sure you get some of these. They help with impressing the girls." I smile again and tease him. I'm smiling, again. Wow.