Bobby to BobbieChapter 3
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Slowly opening her eyes, Miri watched as the lid of the healing chamber lifted above her. Through the glass panels, she could see the smiling visage of Elizabeth—bringing a similar expression of happiness to her own lips.
"How are you feeling, dear heart?"
Sitting up, the small girl touched the place where the bolt had struck her. It didn't ache and burn like fire anymore. In fact, she didn't hurt at all. Her grin grew even larger.
"It's all better!" she exclaimed.
The older woman laughed. "Come on, you've been in there long enough. I need to get your brother and Daphne in for their checkups now." Reaching down, she took the child's hand and drew Miri to her feet. "You, however," she said, crinkling her nose, "need to take a shower."
"Could I take a bath instead?"
"Absolutely," Elizabeth replied. "Bubbles?"
Miri nodded bashfully.
While they'd been gone, their wonderful caretaker had gone to the trouble of having the bathing room expanded. Rather than a plain bathtub with a shower, it now it housed an impressive Jacuzzi-style tub and, thanks to Elizabeth's instructions to the computer, it was already filled with warm, soapy water by the time they walked in. She also had towels stationed on a nearby counter and clean clothes laid out for her next to them.
After her many weeks in Chaos, Miri found the sudsy sensations glorious. Sure she'd been able to have the occasional bath once they'd reached Judgment Falls, but none of them were even close to this.
As she lathered up, she found her attention drawn once again to the necklace Beyla gave her. Oddly enough, for the first time she felt as if she could take it off. More than a little curious, she did just that—lifting the chain over her head and cradling the gift in her hands. The pendant, which she could at last see clearly now, looked quite large in her hands—but then again, she had small hands.
Heavier than it looked, it was a small disk made up of concentric rings of alternating types of metal. At its very center was a beautiful purple stone set into a starfire pattern of copper-colored rays radiating out from it—some making it to the edge of the disk and others not. It really looked pretty and in some ways reminded her—at least a little bit—of the special stick that Dedek Bran gave to her brother. Not liking it off for too long, however, she eventually placed it back around her neck and busied herself with getting clean.
Time drifted by and Miri was in danger of falling asleep when she heard a firm knock at the door. Nervously fingering her amulet, she quickly sat up—sloshing some of the soapy water onto the floor.
"How are you doing in there?" she heard her brother ask. "You haven't gone and drowned on me, have you?"
The little girl splashed her hands around and giggled. "No," she replied, looking at her fingers, "but I am starting to look like a raisin."
She heard him chuckle along with someone else. "Well, if you get too wrinkly I'll just say you're my older sister," he teased.
"Don't mind him, Miranda," a voice that sounded like Daphne told her, "just take your time and we've got some food waiting for you when you get out."
Oh, sure, take your time," he brother taunted. "The food and your surprise can wait."
"Surprise? What surprise?" Miri exclaimed loudly but she got no reply as she heard their voices fading away.
She called to them again but to no avail. They either couldn't hear her or, more likely, were just ignoring her. Miri, however, could still hear Daphne as they walked away.
"This Spanish is so cool! It's like I just know it now," the young woman excitedly observed, "but what's a raisin?"
Miri snickered at the question. Still, knowing the prune factor would only get worse the longer she stayed in, the small girl stood up to get out. In no time at all, she was dried and dressed with only her damp hair giving away her time in the tub.
Voices echoed down the small hallway toward her when she opened the door. She wasn't paying too much attention until she heard an all too familiar deep, rumbling laugh. With a loud screech, she bolted the remainder of the way to the living room and launched herself into the surprised arms of someone she thought she'd never see again.
"You're alive! You're alive!" she murmured over and over again as she burrowed herself into Whit's shoulder.
The narrow heels of Elizabeth's shoes clicked rhythmically on the grey stone tile as she made her way down the long corridor. The wide expanse of the former university grounds, with its professionally manicured lawns and amazing array of flowering plants, was appealingly visible through the large plate glass windows to her left.
Generations earlier, before the Great War, the Linden campus had been a center of learning for tens of thousands of students. Now it was the home of The Administrative Council for the Oversight and Management of the Damsel-in-Distress Project and Its Facilities. Rather than that mouthful, most knew it as the "Damsel Oversight Council"—the focus, fascination, and dream destination for practically all female Cassandrans. Elizabeth had walked these halls so frequently over the years, however, that the scenery and location had long since faded into the background for her.
It hadn't always been that way. Once she'd been a starry-eyed girl with dreams of being a damsel like all the rest. The mandatory tests all Cassandran females undergo at age twelve, unfortunately, put an end to that. Thankfully further tests—aptitude tests—allowed her to replace one dream with another.
With the earlier test results, however, came the awful label of "neuter." An ugly term with an even uglier history, it should come as no surprise that children can be cruel. It appeared nowhere on her testing forms but it did on the lips of some of her classmates who had no such stigma. Elizabeth had to endure their merciless taunts both in and out of class but she was undaunted. The bullying made her study all that much harder.
Finally, at the age sixteen, she was accepted into Victoria's Preparatory School for Girls—the Council's premier caretaker training institute—and all that childish drama came to an end. In fact, if she were to turn her head just a bit to the left, she would be able to see the gabled end of the school's distinctive library where she practically lived during those years—visible just beyond the recently renovated AnnaSophia Research Laboratories.
The building she was currently in—the new Sandra Administration Center—was a welcome recent addition to the sizeable complex. Various offices once scattered across the sprawling campus were finally all in one centralized location, along with much needed and up-to-date council chambers—which were now just ahead.
A wave of apprehension swept over her, as she once again began to question the wisdom of the proposal she was about to make to the council. Though not of her own flesh and blood, Hector and Miranda were about as close as she would ever get to having grandchildren—and the thought of making it possible for them to regularly visit Chaos genuinely worried her. Still, they'd already made it there and back safely, even gaining the unheard of assistance of Brownies and Fairies in the process. Then there was the matter of poor Daphne and her lost siblings.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded to the slender young man waiting for her by the impressive wooden double doors. One of the secretaries for the executive council, Yuri had been someone Elizabeth had come to truly appreciate—often smoothing the way through the vast bureaucracy for her, like today. As the longest ever serving caretaker, she had pull, but nothing like him.
"The senator is in there presently," he informed her. "We'll usher you in when she's finished with the Q&A following her presentation ... which should be in a matter of minutes," he added, looking at his watch.
"How do you think she did?" Elizabeth asked after her friend.
"Hard to say," Yuri replied after a thoughtful pause. "I thought she was persuasive but the mere mention of reopening a former hero's case—especially one as emotionally packed as that one—had the hardliners on alert."
Elizabeth nodded in agreement. It was pretty much the same thing she'd told Regina herself. "Anyone I need to pay special attention to for my presentation?"
"The Madam Director is already sympathetic, so no worries there. Same with the Cassandrans United faction and the members of the Jones Society," he replied matter-of-factly. "Chelsea Lawyer, chair of the security subcommittee, on the other hand, will likely be the most resistant to your layered proposal and can sway quite a few votes."
"Advice?"
"They've already read through your digital brief, so stick to the emotive points you've outlined. And by all means, keep a rotating slideshow of the young man, Hector, going on the screen behind you. Even though he's only fifteen, that alone will have most of them squirming in their seats," he added with a sly grin.
"Aside from that," he continued, "cue in on Laura Author during the deliberations." Tapping his touchscreen pad, Yuri pulled up a photo of a familiar figure and showed it to her. "She's newly appointed but, due to her writings, very influential. Miss Laura is most definitely on your side and has an amendment that should overcome the remaining opposition."
"An amendment? What is it?" Elizabeth asked with concern.
"Best I don't tell you, so you can be surprised and respond appropriately," he replied knowingly. At that moment, a chime rang, signaling a ten minute council recess. Yuri's hand reached out and grasped one of the door knobs. Pulling it toward himself, he gestured for her to enter.
"It will all be fine, Miss Elizabeth," he whispered as she stepped past. "Trust me."
His words drew her to a stop. Turning back, she gracefully laid her hand on the young man's thin shoulder and lightly brushed his left cheek with her lips. "Always," she murmured softly, leaving him blushing profusely as she entered the council chambers.
"Were you scared?"
Marisa's hands stilled momentarily, the separate strands for the child's braid held firmly in their grip. The question intruded into her temporary sense of calm, and images she'd just as soon forget flitted through her mind. She and Whit had brought the kids up to speed as to why they were delayed for so long but didn't go into how bad it really was.
"So, are you going to be my counselor?" she teased, hoping to deflect the girl's question.
Trapped for hours under God knows how many tons of rubble, what had only once been a mild form of childhood claustrophobia threatened to morph into a full blown panic attack. It was only Whit's quiet, calm voice that kept her from going off the deep end. The way she was laying with her legs pinned, she couldn't see him but she could hear his voice and feel him pressed against her back.
Looking back now, Marisa was amazed at how the man was able to even stay conscious, considering all the damage he'd taken in the fall. Once pulled from the collapsed building, it was nearly three weeks before they'd release him from the hospital. Fortunately, after they set her arm and stitched up the deep cuts in her abdomen and left leg, she only had to stay in for a few days—mostly to watch for infection.
Then they went to Mike's place to come here—wherever here was.
"Well, Miss Linda did say talking helped to put back together what we feel with what we lived through. She said the bad things will still be bad..."
"They'll just be in the past," the pretty Latina intoned from memory, "not your present or future."
"Did you... ?" Miri tried to twist around to look at her, but Marisa held tight to the unfinished braid.
"Hey, now! Keep still, so I can do your hair."
"Sorry," the petite girl turned back around and quickly apologized before getting back to her earlier question. "Did you get help from Miss Linda, too? Was that when you were hurt real bad and had to stay in the hospital a long time?"
Marisa inwardly shuddered at the memory of that earlier hospital stay. Six painful surgeries and months of grueling physical therapy that she never wanted to repeat—ever. Even at that, there was so much they couldn't really repair, leaving a void in the exact center of her being.
"Yes to both," she replied softly as she resumed progress on the long French braid, intertwining the strands deftly with her fingers. "Miss Linda was there when I woke up in the hospital back then. I don't know if I would have made it if not for her. And in answer your first question ... yes ... I was very scared."
Miranda sat quietly for a bit, allowing Marisa to focus on what she was doing, until she felt a small hand gently touch and caress her left knee.
"Does your leg still hurt?" Miri asked in that precious little voice of hers. "Both times when I was hurt they put me in that healing chamber and it made me all better."
"It's better than it was," Marisa replied as she finished off the braid. "Unfortunately they can't fix old wounds here—only new ones like my broken arm and all the deep cuts I had stitched up. The chamber did take out most of the hardware from my knee and hip, though, and mend some of the nerves so it doesn't hurt as much." She lifted the leg in question and rotated the ankle around a few times. "But it'll still ache before it rains and I'll always have a slight limp."
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