XANTARA
•1963•
TW: Violence / light torture
The rain fell in a repetitive pattern. Falling. Crashing. Stopping.
Falling. Crashing. Stopping.
Falling was the best option. It wasn't silence, it wasn't loneliness.
It wasn't overwhelming.
It just tapped, tapped, tapped.
"Tara,"
The same voice had been behind me all day. Sometimes it would talk for longer, sometimes only a breath. The response was always the same, but after 24 hours of silence, I hummed.
That was what they needed. What they were waiting for.
Five came and sat in front of me.
I was cowered, small and frail, on the hard floor beside Elliot. Overtime, I had released his forearm, but had left slight nail dents in passing. I had leant my back on the coffee table when I was tired, but never dared to close my eyes.
Darkness was war.
"Tara,"
My wary eyes were instead fixed on something far ahead of me- something past the wall, past Dallas, anywhere away.
"I got you a tea,"
This was the ninth tea I had been brought so far. All went untouched, growing stale in the air.
"Tara," he whispered again.
Like the rain, the word flowed from his mouth like a tap tap tap-
I nodded. He continued.
But he couldn't find anything to say.
Instead, he remained still and took my hands in his.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Silence.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Silence.
"It should've been me."
My voice broke at the sudden use, the candid, vehement words tearing through my mind.
"It should've been me."
It was continually breaking. The floods of tears had returned and I was quickly pulled around to Five's chest.
"It should've been me!"
"Tara,"
"It should've been me!" I cried, grabbing his shoulder as the only stability I had whilst he stroked my hair.
The more I said it, the more realistic the situation became.
Elliot was dead.
____
"Thanks," I mumbled subconsciously.
Five sat opposite me on my bed, carefully slipping on black gloves over my softly trembling hands, holding them like a delicate glass. I listened to the record player scratch over the familiar notes of Ray Charles and sipped the eleventh tea I'd been given that day. I gently and loosely tied the dull ribbon that acted as a belt for the wool, black trench coat I wore. It travelled down to my knees, showing the bottom half of my tights and my chunky boots.
I walked over to my window, looking out at the sunny conditions of Texas. Young children ran along the streets in shorts and bright shirts, their mother's trailing after them, gossiping to their neighbours in bold, knee-high dresses and heels.
"I'm going to be too warm, aren't I?" I softly chuckled.
Five walked up to stand behind me, gathering my hair and brushing it onto my back, tilting his head into my neck and hugging my waist.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, leaning into his touch and whispering, "I'm ready,".
My hair lifted slightly as a warm breeze enveloped us and when I opened my eyes, we were outside. I'd asked Five to take me to Lime Meadow, mine and Elliot's private sanctuary, so that we could bury him in peace. The world around us was the nearly the same as it was when we visited yesterday: fox hunted rabbit, birds flew to feed from the soil, passing their findings on to their babies as they learnt to fly, flapping their wings to the natural songs of wildlife- pure and innocent. Except now, Elliot became part of the setting, already placed in his stolen coffin, the ground around him dug up and not yet put back. 'He would be happy here' I thought and made it my honour to plant bright and blooming flowers in this spot every Saturday.
It was only me and Five as he led us to the grave, taking my hand in his. I was focussing on my feet when I felt a small squeeze around my fingers. I looked up and found him watching me, his eyes flickering from mine to his bicep. I laid my head on it as we stopped. Serene silence surrounded us as a single tear fell from my left eye.
"I love you Uncle Elliot," I spoke aloud under a shaky breath.
Silence.
Five's eyes looked me up and down from his bowed position as though he was going to say something. Instead, he rocked back and forth on his heels and cleared his throat, "You ready to go back?"
I blinked as I met his gaze, eyebrows furrowed, "What?", the word coming out as a mere whisper.
He stared into the distance as he replied, seeming almost awkward, "Well, you're done, right?"
"No, Five, I'm burying him. That means putting the soil back," my voice was getting louder, and he matched it.
"Diego can do that, he did it in the first place,"
"He's my uncle!"
"Yeah well technically he isn't, Tara, and I have more important things to do,"
"What, instead of being there for me?", there was no reply. "Five, I need you right now,"
"Well not everything can be about you Tara,"
"I never asked for it to be! If you never came, Elliot would still be alive!"
I stood there, mouth agape as his hand left mine to run across his face and through his hair. He spoke softly and sarcastically as he said, "The world's ending, Tara. I need to go deal with that,"
Without time to object, he left me with only a short blue haze before disappearing in the open field.
"Fine!" I shouted to nothing, kicking the soil under my feet and collapsing to my knees, repeating the same word in a weaker tone with my head in my hands, "Fine,"
"Awe, lover's quarrel?" I scurried to my feet, rapidly turning around, "There's no reason to be scared," she soothed.
"The last time I saw you, you were trying to murder Five. There's plenty reason to be scared Lila," I seethed through gritted teeth.
"Oh yeah. I guess you're right,"
BANG.
•
My eyes began to beat open, struggling to adjust to the savage light pounding on me. The rest of my surroundings were in utter darkness. I was sat in a solid wooden chair, bound to it by harsh rope that wound around my ankles, thighs, back, elbows and chest. I was trapped. I strained against the ties, kicking and squirming, but they only tightened, creating cold white lines on my skin. I surrendered and let myself fall back, thinking about how the hell I'd gotten here, and I remembered everything.
"Lila," I snarled into the black.
"Rise and shine!". She strutted towards me casually, emerging from nothing, sitting on something and folding her legs up to her chest.
The dark invited suffocating silence.
"Why?" I said at last in a hoarse whisper, the feeling of betrayal appearing in tiny drops of salty water in the corners of my eyes.
"Don't stress, it's not personal," she winked and spun around, walking further away.
I bowed my head.
•
"B. R. Ambedkar once said, man does not lose his being in the society in which he lives. Man's life is independent. He is born not for the development of the society alone, but for the development of his self... you're staring,"
"That's beautiful," I whispered, laid down on my stomach on my thick duvet, staring up at him, "what does it mean?"
Five sniggered and closed the book, turning on his side to face me, "Well I mean its suggestive,"
I groaned, "Yea whatever, what do you think it means?"
"Well," he laughed, "I think that it suggests that you can't breed someone to be who you want them to be. Society impacts you and your person, but it doesn't completely consume it,"
I looked deep into his emerald eyes and noticed the dark purple circles underneath becoming permanent, "Here," I took the book from his hands and laid on my back, "Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself'..."
•
"This isn't you," I called out at her retreating silhouette. She stopped, visibly tensing. "Just because she told you that 'this is who you are' or 'what you're born to do' doesn't mean that it is. Lila you know that this" I tried to gesture to the ropes, "isn't right. It's not you, it's her!"
Her body wilted and eyelids fell, but she carried on forward. I needed her to stay. She was my only hope of getting out now.
"Diego".
She stopped. Her face was tilted away from me, but I saw her metal jaw soften. "He won't forgive you if you go through with this,". Her head hung low and she turned to stare at my wrapped feet. She began a deep inhale, opening her mouth to speak, her eyes growing misty.
"I see you're getting comfortable with the prisoner,"
The Handler sauntered into the room. Her manipulative actions were smooth and she dressed professional. Her snowy hair snaked over her shoulders which were laced with fabric of a rough leather. The diamonds strung around her were strong and ever-hovering like a cobra. Her elongated legs resembled that of a carnivores and were supported by her bony feet, fitted into a pair of extravagant, glossy, ruby high heels that slid into an unhealthy point. The sight of her oppressive, hostile stare made my stomach churn and I felt the nausea creep around my body.
Lila stumbled back, harshly wiping under her eyes away from the view of her mother.
"Hello Xantara," she spoke steadily and dragged out her vowels long, intentional. Despite her obvious anger and resent, she never raised her voice. Instead, she talked painfully easy and it soon became insufferable. "I hope you like the ties, they're only there for extreme measures, I know you'll understand,"
"You're treating me like one of your commission drones," I snapped, "I'm a fourteen-year-old from Dallas, 1963. I know nothing of fighting, killing or any shit like that. This is completely unnecessary. Surely we can be civil," my body reeled with sarcasm.
She snorted, "Why is it so dark in here?" and she flicked on the light.
My eyes squinted and scanned the setting around me. I assumed that we were in the Handler's office: the back wall was rich with ancient books, the walls cream and lined with gold. The main object was the desk. It was dark oak, cluttered with office toys and files and it even had a penholder fixed onto it. There were pointless artefacts dotted around the room, encased with glass.
"So," she began, rustling in the draw for something, "here's how this is going to work. I need your little boyfriend- Five- here,"
"Why- "
"Ah-ah-ah," she pulled out a thick roll of tape and threatened to measure it against my lips, then put it back in the draw, beginning to rummage again, "you're not going to speak before I'm done. Like I said, I need Five here and you're going to help me... ah!". She pulled out a camera and placed it on a high stand opposite my chair.
"You're going to film a little tape for him and he's going to come running,"
"No, he's not. He's... smarter than that,"
"He's a little criminal mastermind, I have to admit, even after all these years of chasing. But being alone all those years taught him nothing of love. He's simply a young teenage boy that will run to his love as soon as he gets the chance, and we'll be waiting when he does,"
I hesitated in response. She couldn't be right. But I knew that she was.
"You'll just wanna focus right here and do the usual," she walked over to me, "alright?"
I looked her up and down. Then spat at her feet.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, seeming purely disappointed, "Oh no,".
With one hand, she grabbed the underside of my hair, twisting it in her steel grasp, threatening to rip it from the roots. With the other, she squeezed my neck and I immediately coughed and spluttered for any droplet of air I could reach. "Tell him how much pain you're in," she drew her sword like nails across the raw flesh under my chin excruciatingly slow, deliberately looking down on me for longer than necessary.
"Alright!" Lila barked, a shadow in the corner. Her nose was slightly winkled, her eyes slightly clouded with guilt and diverted to the far wall of the room. The Handler's head snapped upon its prey. "It's just," Lila tried to rescue herself, "Five's gotta get this message soon, you know. Let's... get this done. Quickly,"
The Handler moved smoothly back to the camera. As the click of her heels echoed over the gold frames of the oil paintings, Lila's eyes flickered over to mine. I shook my head, tracing my tongue under my front teeth, holding her gaze until she broke it.
"Aaaannnnnddddd... Action!"
I focussed on the centre of the recorder. I was expected to beg and cry for Five to save me from the cold, clammy hands of the Handler, but obliging to my kidnapper would be the option after death. If she wanted Five here, he would be drawn by the suggestion of me being alive, not to collect my dead body. She needed me to live. She couldn't hurt me.
So, I leant back in my chair, slouching, and rolling my eyes. I heard her hiss and I chuckled at her reaction. She strode toward me heavily and I tensed out of view, "Aren't you going to turn it off?" I said and gestured to the camera with a flex of my wrist, flinching at the contact of it against the rough rope.
She chuckled and walked beyond me. I stayed still, staring ahead of me.
I gasped instantly at the spike of a cold blade pressing against my cheek, then running too lightly down the middle of my neck and across my bare collarbone. Her fingertips brushed against my hair as she 'shushed' delicately. "Tell him," she spat, breathing directly into my ear. I stayed silent.
Her weapon plunged directly into my stomach.
I cried out and attempted to dive forward and clutch the growing wound, but my hands struggled against my ties. Silence still.
Her knife twisted to the left and I howled louder.
My voice broke as I screamed his name raw from my clenching throat, "Five!"
"More," she beckoned, voice small and travelling down my back.
"Stop!" She grabbed my chin and warped it so that I looked to the ceiling as she slit the skin going down the side of my neck, dragging it deeper as the blade reached my shoulder. "I didn't do anything!" I was shrieking inaudible words, my screams not enough. My body desperately tried to writhe but the rope cut deeply. When I wasn't screaming, I was bawling, "Five please!"
I let my head fall. Satisfied, the Handler licked her lips, her smirk growing as she gathered in front of me. Her hand fell to my cheek and lingered, then struck. I whimpered quietly, feeling the redness growing across my face. "Good,". I lifted my head to look at her, sighed, and then let it fall once again. She stood up to adjust the camera, looking through the eyepiece and crying out, "The perfect angle!" and moving to the side to look directly at me.
"Let's talk," she seethed, "you are just the picture perfect... piece of shit. Aren't you? Mommy and daddy never loved you, so you take comfort in a weak little man that took five seconds to kill!"
I lifted my head up droopily, almost drunken with defeat, "How would you know?"
She laughed lowly, mercilessly, and roared, "Haven't you figured it out yet? I was the one who sent the order to kill him! Don't even get me started on your parents," she paused and looked at me, "You don't know do you?".
My eyes were narrowed and eyebrows fixed into a straight line, daring to tilt diagonally. "Mr and Mrs Griffin, terrible disappointments but I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she danced off to the other side of the room whilst talking, camouflaged in the darkness like a snake torturing its prey from the long grass. The only sound was the ominous click of her red heels.
"They actually did work for me at one point," and then she stopped as if remembering, "'Bonnie and Clyde' we used to call them. They were partners at the commission, killing and correcting left and right. Just like your Five," by this point, my fists were clenched and whitening, my breathing becoming more often and harsher. "Even they got the idea to run away into the sunset as soon as she started showing,"
I terrified myself at how intrigued I had become, "Showing what?"
"You. They took off to the late 1940s- of course, we didn't know at the time. But we found them eventually, as we always do..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I uttered under a trembling exhale.
She chuckled again, the action becoming continuous and without regret like a rattle on the end of a snake's tail, a warning that she was about to strike, "Oh darling," she crept forwards, "you could say that we handled them,"
My breathing became shallow as my jaw clenched and my heart rate pounded intensely, sweat collecting in the centre of my palms in swarms of rage, "Stop," it came out as a threatening growl. I felt my chest puff out and my eyes snatch up to glare at the head of white moving provokingly leisurely. I scrunched my toes until it physically hurt and fiercely thrusted my legs and arms forward attempting to break the bonds isolating me. My hands shook and fingers spread like claws.
She took her time snaking over to me, one foot in front of the other, stretching her back in a predatorial position as she got closer. My pupils enlarged and began to buzz as I bit down on the inside of my cheek. A pain spiked between my temples and travelled down to my open wound which was bleeding profusely, aggressively. My vision swum and blackened around the edges, though I didn't know whether it was a cause of my immense fury or me bleeding out.
"Mum," Lila cautioned, as she stared at the floor around her, fog collecting and swirling around her ankles when she stood up from the table she was crouched on. She flinched at the drop of water that dripped onto her head, from the closed ceiling.
My cheeks flushed a despicable red despite the icy blast of violent gales and the blinding, raging snowstorm falling quick and fast. I was immune, a small circle surrounded me that blocked out everything except the noise of thunder striking recklessly and tempestuously. Wild. Explosive.
"I, personally- "she immediately stopped as the earth crumbled and split at her feet, spreading in cracks, starting from my chair. They both looked around and Lila reached out for the desk; all its contents were crystallised silver by frost, then became shrouded by fog. She quickly moved to the window and threw back the black-out curtain, her breath hitching at the sight: it was a completely clear day. The wind became relentless, whipping the curtain shut again.
The Handler coughed heartily as the air around her tightened. She stalked towards me, beating against the pelting rain, lashing, slashing, spitting, stinging down.
The foreboding cloud walls of my small, steel circle made a thin pathway opposite me, directed at my capture.
"I killed them all!"
A red-hot light travelled under my skin and coursed through my veins, abnormally lighting the whole room. The immense, raw feeling of Elliot's death, the sudden anger over the truth about my parents, the suffocating news that the world was ending... it all surfaced, and I felt myself finally implode. My body jolted forward and an almighty, lethal infernal blaze exploded at her feet. It was devastating: everything it touched, obliterated. Instantly incinerated. Its remnants menacingly frantic.
I fell back, panting. It was silent. I reached for the wound ripping across my stomach and realised that my body was now free. But when I attempted to stand, I grew limp and collapsed to the floor. The smoke cleared gradually and I saw black Doc Martins stomp across the room, picking up the tape before leaving. My last glimpse of life and hope.
•
Narrators POV
"Where is she?!" Five roared into Lila's purple face.
She spluttered and choked, her palms knocking on the wall behind her in response. His fist only tightened around her throat, nails digging further into her skin. The tape had finished and lay still in the projector, the same static white background playing over and over again. The kitchen table's contents were scattered across the floor, the coffee pot broken into infinite pieces, the cutlery travelling into other rooms. Diego stomped over them and held his brother by the nape of his neck, ripping him away from Lila as her near-corpse slid down the wall. Five pushed him off and watched as her paled hands fumbled, grasping for air.
His voice thundered, "There was no reason to involve her!". He turned away, covering his face with both his hands before making a sprint back towards Lila. Diego caught him with both hands while he kicked and punched, fighting his way to her.
Diego watched his brother's eyes as they scavenged for blood. It pained him to see them so dark, so close to tears. Even as young children, he had never seen Five cry. Now, they reminded him of a knife, rigid and cold, the sharp point his pupil, digging deeper with Lila's every staggered breath. His face glowed a dangerous red, eyebrows stiff in a single, bushy line, anger seething from his curling fists.
He realised it was pointless to try and reach him with calming words or rational solutions, as they would bounce off his ice exterior in chips of emerald.
Then he turned to Lila. She slouched against the wall, on the floor amongst the glass. Instead, her eyes begged for mercy, eyebrows heavy and casting a shadow onto her bowing, sweeping eyelashes. They sunk with innocence, yet silently mocked him from afar. He searched the eyes that once excited him, that loved him and that he loved. But the slight rusty brown that made her eyes truly hers, were gone and replaced with a black silhouette of their pasts.
"Where?" Diego growled low, ashamed of his foolishness to fall for Lila's games.
She nodded her head, almost seeming ashamed of herself, hands falling from the protective position on her neck, "The commission, Handler's office,"
"Go," he immediately urged Five, knowing he wouldn't want Lila alone again.
The one syllable was all he needed. A final blue haze appearing before he was gone.
•
Xantara's POV
I shot up. My left hand clutched the fabric around me, my right pressing against my neck, whizzing to my stomach as my eyes devoured the surroundings. I stuttered, realising that my wounds were sewn and that I was wrapped safely in my grey comforter, laying on my own bed, in my own room.
I was home.
My head fell back onto my pillow, tears streaming steadily from my crinkling eyes, a smile dancing across my lips as I softly whispered, "Thank you, thank you," repeatedly, to no one in particular. I assumed I was still living the same day, looking to my bedside clock for guidance. Instead, my wide eyes fell upon a white, folded piece of paper with my name written in obnoxiously neat handwriting on the front.
'Shit' I mumbled, as I grabbed the letter and leant back on my headboard to open it.
~
Dear Tara,
There's so much I need to say to you, but because of my failure, I'm sat at your bedside with you laid next to me, unconscious. I have no doubt that you'll wake up, I just don't know when. So, I wrote you this letter to tell you everything.
Firstly, I'm so sorry. I should've been there for you this morning, no questions asked. Instead I argued with you for something you can't control. But I'm not sorry that I came into your life, Tara, because you saved me from myself. My world does revolve around you, I was just too scared to admit that it was my own doing. I didn't ask to fall in love with you, it just happened, the moment I met you.
Secondly, I'm so incredibly sorry. I made a deal with the Handler after you were safe that meant that she wouldn't hurt you again, ever. It meant that I had to interrupt a board meeting which they were all super happy about... The point is, she shouldn't have hurt you in the first place. Getting you involved was all my fault. I stitched your wounds the best I could and Diego even went to the store to get pain killers. He misses you too.
Thirdly, I'm so incredibly super sorry. I thought I had longer. After the board meeting, the Handler also gave us a way home. I thought it was suspiciously generous considering that I had bargained your safety also. Turns out that I was right. She gave us a 90 minute time limit to gather all my siblings who are scattered across the state and leave. If we've done it right, we'll be gone before midday. If you are awake before then, which I'm really, really hoping you are, then we're using the alleyway behind the store as our meeting spot. I know you can't come back with us, but this isn't my ideal goodbye.
Elliot spoke to me the night of the consulate. I was going to tell you at the funeral this morning but I didn't know how. He gave me the normal dad talk whilst seeming scared of me at the same time, but basically said that you were a badass. He told me that I was a lucky guy and I've never agreed with anyone more.
I'm forever hopelessly and irretrievably in love with you, Xantara Gussman. I'm sorry I ever had to leave you, it's the only regret that will stay with me until the day I can be with you again. We'll have our eternity someday. You are my best friend and leaving you may stop the end of the world, but it's the end of the world for me.
I love you darling,
Five Hargreeves.
~
"Holy crap,"
It was 11:58.
"Holy crap!" I said more urgently.
I threw myself out of bed, viciously wiping the stray tears under my eyes as I swooped into the kitchen, using the back stairs to get down.
"Please be there," I whispered, shouting louder, "Five!"
My stomach felt incredibly uneasy with butterflies and unsteadiness, my heart and wounds pounding like a marching band.
"Five!"
I pushed the door open with all the strength that I had left.
"Tara?"
In less than a second, he was by my side, pulling me in for an overdue hug. It was the type to consume you and bond two beings into one. I cried into his shoulder as he buried his head in mine, our arms entangled and reaching for as much as the other person as humanly possible.
"Oh my God," his voice cracked, muffled in the fabric of my coat.
I leant back to look him in the eyes, holding his shoulders, my hands quickly rushing up to cup his face so that he would see me when I said, "I love you,"
"Five, 30 seconds,"
"I love you too,"
He kissed me with the passion of four suns. The surge of warmth electrified my body, sprinting through my veins and exploding in my heart and deeper, inflaming the depths of my soul. It was the only kiss of its kind, shared between two people stupidly passionate with love.
We broke off at the buzz of blue, still holding each other close and watching the suitcase flying into the air and back to 2019. I realised that Five was still beside me when it was time, "You weren't going to-"
He pressed a finger to my lips and grinned, "I knew they wouldn't show up. I don't care as long as I've got you, now,"
He tilted my head up and kissed me again.
"I love you"
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