It was nine am, an hour that felt most uncivilised, and I was sitting on a bus trying to look through windows made redundant by condensation. I questioned why it was I was so exhausted, having done nothing more than slept away the hangover of Anya.
Unfortunately when I plucked up the courage to face my Kieran induced bruises in the mirror I saw how much of me they really covered. My neck was black and blue as well as my waist, hips and stomach. I had run the back of my hand down my neck and then over my stomach.
"Bollocks," I had muttered, knowing full well the look such marks would earn from Doctor Miranda Collins. So I eas crafty when I set out what I was to wear that morning, chosing a white turtle neck that covered me up nicely. Quite understandably, I was grateful that a traditional Scottish summer didn't differ greatly from a Scottish winter and my attire could be considered practical.
The bus bounced through the streets, rocking me so hard I felt ill. But then could I blame the bus completely when better Anya and Tom's later I had felt dreadful before?
I couls not question the timing of Tom's letter, it had caught me in a moment most vulnerable that left me wishing he would come home.
It's only been four days, Evans. His letter makes no sense.
My feelings made no sense, for despite having lay in Kieran's arms and been promised that he would be faithful I still doubted him. There was no mistaking his attraction to Anya. I was not a fool. When he saw her descend the stairs in the skimpy and revealing night dress I knew he was starting to fall through my fingers. I needed to find some way to prevent him leaving me completely. If that meant bringing Tom home just to make Kieran jealous then I was almost willing to do so.
But you wouldn't, would you Evans? I dare you to be so despicable.
I balled up the cuffs of my sleeves and squeezed them. My arms and my neck ached, Kieran hadn't been gentle with me and I was paying for it; Consequences of a game you had to be willing to play for love. Kieran's bruising chill was something Anya wouldn't have to worry about and I despised that. In aspects such as that Kieran would benefit from having a girl like Anya, she wasn't fragile and she was the same 'species' as he was. To top it off she was beautiful too and was remarkably like Kieran's secret love in the land of the living. But I couldn't admit defeat to someone like Anya. Andrea, Jessica, Michael, Vince and Mack would never forgive me if I did and I owed them far too much to consider thinking otherwise.
I drew a face on the window, a droplet of rain trickling down from the bottom of the eye. I laughed to myself.
Are you really feeling so sorry for yourself?
The bus drew up opposite the hospital. Reluctantly I unfurled myself and shuffled down the bus.
The corridors were quiet, eerily so. I pulled my fingers through my hair and groaned, wishing for some interruption on my way to delay the inevitable.
I knocked on Miranda's door several times, getting no reply or instruction to enter. It was unusual for Dr. Collins, who took pride in being prompt, too be late. I looked the corridor up and down before feeling for the handle. Despite Dr. Collins seemingly nowhere to be found it was open. I bit my lip. How much would she mind if I just went in and waited?
There were chairs for waiting patients but I was too perplexed to pay them any mind. I was far too curious to pay attention to being curtious. Boldly I opened the door and went into the room, the scene dulled by the overcast sky.
Something was wrong.
My palms became clammy, as my eyes strayed to the empty desk and chair. I wiped my hands on the seams of my jeans. There was probably a rational explanation but at that moment in time I couldn't think of one. I walked shakily over to her desk, hoping there was something that would give me the slightest indication as to the whereabouts of my councillor.
Both expectedly and unexpectedly there was on the desk was a row of three pencils and a pad of lined note paper ready for diagnosis; just like usual.
Despite the uneasiness in my stomach, I saw little option other than to wait around in case of explanation.
I'd been standing, gazing out of the window for fifteen minutes or so before the office door creaked open. I spun round, feeling somewhat defenceless. My chest rose and fell and my breath stuttered. When I saw who it was however I relaxed, arms limp by my sides.
"Doctor Collins, you gave me a fright," I gasped. She stared at me blankly, her big brown eyes like voids. I peered at her, bemused to say the least. "I didn't mean to just welcome myself into your office...but the door was open and I figured it would be OK. I mean your door is usually locked if you aren't here so I wondered if something was wrong."
And I was right, something was wrong.
I licked my lips.
"Doctor Collins, are you OK? Maybe you should sit down or something," I mumbled, my fingers slippery as I fidgeted with them. I started walking unsurely to take her arm and guide her to the chair. She shrugged away, frightened almost. I drew back my hand and pretended I'd simply raised it to massage my neck. "I could always come back another time, if you'd prefer," I offered, looking desperately at the door.
"No, sit," Miranda said urgently, heading promptly to her seat.
"Are you sure, I mean..."
"Sit!" Dr. Collins snapped, bringing her hands down on her glass table top. My stomach twisted and my heartbeat raced. Stupidly, perhaps, I obeyed and sat down. My fingers curled around the arms of the chair. Miranda picked up her pencil, fingers trembling. I watched as she wrote my name at the top of the paper. The letters were hardly legible from the constant shake of her hand.
"Dr. Collins has something happened?" She underlined my name so hard the lead on the pencil broke. As the lead catapulted across the room I pushed myself as far as I could go into the chair, digging the dregs of my nails in.
"Bugger," she muttered, chucking the pencil off of the desk and picking up another one. I turned to look at the door, calculating the distance. I couldn't leave Dr. Collins in all good conscience, not in the condition she was in. Shakily I removed my hands from the chair. Instead I fiddled with my fingers, dragging the skin backwards and forwards. Dr. Collins eyes were shifty and her hands didn't seem able to stay still for more than a couple of seconds. Strands of her chestnut hair were falling gradually out of her messy bun, it's appearance quite appropriately erratic.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything Doctor Collins? You just...don't seem yourself."
"I'm fine, besides this is all about you," Dr. Collins said through gritted teeth. I cleared my throat, my fingers moving back to the arm rests, curling in and out of claws. "So I guess we should get started." I looked her in the eyes, something behind them making me wonder what was going on in her mixed up head. It was almost as if she was a completely different person.
"Yeah, what would you like to know?" I asked curtly, still eyeing her. My inquisitive glares made her uneasy. She swallowed and looked down at the mostly blank sheet of paper. I decided to play her, see how insanity was suiting her. As an ex-psycho myself, it couldn't be that hard to master the rules of the mentalists game.
"So umm...how have you been....uh, feeling?" she began, writing the question down on the sheet of paper as though it might escape her. I watched her hand as the pencil shook across the page.
"I've been OK but ever since yesterday I've been feeling very, very lonely and isolated." I was pathetic, but still so full of challenge.
"Good, good," Dr. Collins muttered. My eyes narrowed. Normally I'd meet such a confession with a little more disgust and infuriation followed by a speech on how it was all one huge step backwards. I sighed deeply, as if over some great, white privileged dilemma.
"Yeah, I mean my boyfriend and my family are just getting me down." I feigned, sinking lower into the chair. At the sound of the word boyfriend Dr. Collins looked up, her eyes dead. I raised my head and arm so that my chin lay on top of my open palm. "I've been contemplating suicide but I know it'll just ruin the lives of my friends and family." I licked my lips. "I'm DYING for some advice." Dr. Collins hand clenched around the pencil, snapping it in two with a splintering crack.
"Now Christine, is that not a little rash?" Dr. Collins chuckled darkly, placing the two ends of the pencil on the edge of the table. My eyes didn't stray from the therapists dishonest face. What the hell was going on?
"No, I think it's completely necessary!" I retorted surely, a bright and cheerful smile deforming my face almost as oddly as the one on hers. I got to my feet, resting my palms on the glass surface. Stuff fingerprints, I was past the good Doctor's stuffy rules.
Dr. Collins face darkened, the bags under her eyes not comparing to the anger flashing across her face.
"Christine, please don't joke about such things," she winced.
"It's Chris, Doctor Collins," I corrected. I tried to force a vacant look onto my face. I needed to try and coax out whatever was bothering Dr. Collins so badly she couldn't even be professional. By pushing her to the brink of patience I was hoping she'd snap out of her spasm.
"I know!" she cried in frustration. I sat back at that, her sudden outburst frightening me. "Now stop being such an insolent, ungrateful and foolish little girl. You and I both know that you would never consider doing that to your family, Kieran and especially not Beth!"
"Beth, what about Beth?" I stuttered in confusion. Dr. Collins barely knew Beth. I'd only talked about her once or twice and never in great detail. No, this was the Achilles heel and the point which I would use to manipulate the situation. A sickening feeling overcame me and I rose once more from my seat. "I think I'd better go," I whispered before beginning to turn for the door. "I think you should maybe go and see a doctor or something." I headed straight for the door then, suddenly more than aware I could be in danger.
And once again with no one here to save you.
"I can't do this," Dr. Collins said, her voice a forced croak. "Wait Chris," I paused and spun back around to confront her. "This'll only take a second, promise." My therapist got up and out of her chair, moving to the open space by the window.
My hand came to my mouth as I watched what then happened before me. Dr. Collins doubled over, her back furling like a cat. She grasped her stomach and her whole body quaked violently. She let out a painful scream. Her arms bulged and her hair fell away into short dark strands. I searched blindly behind me for the door handle, bile rising threatening in my clenched throat. I flinched at the site, not wanting to watch anymore. The screams faded and the dark haired boy stood tall, sweat plastering his brow. He panted, his chest heaving gently.
"What the bloody hell was that?" I shrieked, staring at the boy in disbelief. He staggered, winded and slumped into the chair, his body shaking from the transformation.
"Mmm I can't do that like I used to," he grimaced boyishly. I strode across the room until I was stood in front of him. I thrust my hand into his face, feeling the hills and valleys that made up his face structure. His eyes watched me, breathless but annoyingly amused.
"You are such a bastard Nate, you know that?" I said slapping his cheek. He admired his hands, pulling them through his hair almost like he was making sure everything was right and accounted for.
"No need to bring my birth right into this Evans, it's rather offensive." He chuckled. I went round the side of the desk, shaking my head. I made a point of eyeing the white jacket and tailored woman's blouse that hugged the curves of his muscles. Apparently conjuring clothes wasn't in the Reds' repertoire of shape-shifting.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, puzzled. The sparkle that had appeared briefly in his eye disappeared. He took an untransformed thread of hair and examined it closely.
"I wish I knew. Trust me, if I hadn't of known the consequences of this visit it wouldn't have been me."
"That still doesn't answer my question unfortunately," I huffed. Nate turned his dark eyes on me; they're bottomless nature unsettling.
"You really don't want to know," he urged, rocking the chair from side to side.
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. Besides, I have a strong feeling I could made a pretty good guess," I confessed, flopping into the chair. He groaned and faced me, peering between the gaps of his fingers.
"I'm going to get into so much trouble for this but I knew I wouldn't be able to go through with it and, ultimately, so did He." It wasn't hard to guess who "he" was but I didn't say anything, not yet. "He wanted one of us to come, disguises ourselves as your therapist, and convince you that the only way you could be happy was to kill yourself...It was meant to be a gradual process." Nate rolled his eyes. " I wasn't supposed to take it because he knew how I'd failed him the last time. But I couldn't do that to you Chris, you're not only Beth's best friend but I've already put you through enough and, more importantly you're probably like my best friend, seriously." He smiled bashfully and leant his head against the back of the chair.
While still trying to fully comprehend then sheer madness of what I had just observed, I noticed how suddenly aged and wearied Nate looked. There were faint lines the marked his face, almost as though a shadow of who he might have become had immortality not intervened. I wondered if Beth, who would be so close to Nate that one blushed if they were to imagine, ever saw the lines of Nate's past and future: I doubted it.
Still, the shadows of those lines and the stories they might tell did not distract from the beauty of him.
"What will he do to you, when he finds out?" I asked, cocking a brow and biting my lip. Nate laughed, though there was no joy in it.
"Not much I don't think. I might get a few left hooks but I'm his oldest friend and he owes me big time."
I was almost offended Nate thought he could deceive me. There was no hiding the terror in his eyes. But he wasn't willing to say more and I would not offend him by pressing.
"Why does he want me Nate? I've not done anything remarkable or special in my life, completely the opposite." I swallowed and glanced at my knotted fingers. "And yet both Indigo and Red wish to claim me, or...something like that."
What use has Kieran of you now?
"Chris?" Nate peered at me, hoping to not be taken for a fool as he studied me. I offered him nothing but a weak smile. "Kieran troubles?"
I shrugged, though it could almost have been mistaken for a wince.
"I wouldn't say problems, just a hiccup."
"Hiccup?" Nate pressed, quite understandably unconvinced by my blasé reassurance. I sighed and rested my chin on my hand.
"Is it really that obvious?" I grimace.
"Take it from someone who's in love with an extremely unpredictable and excruciatingly strong willed person and hence, knows exactly the difference between hiccups and problems. If you were having a hiccup then you wouldn't wear the sadness quite so unconcisously on your face." Nate smiled, though there was nothing of joy in it. No, his smile brought him pain. "You're hurting and confused and I may not be a qualified therapist but I can something is tormenting you."
"You can tell that much just from looking at me?" I question, both impressed and perturbed.
"I can practically taste it." Nate sighed and leaned forward. "I'm a Red, we manipulate emotion. Everything you feel, as long as I wish it, I can feel too. You can hide nothing of feeling from me."
This was not a fact I was unaware of and so did not take Nate for a fool and question him. In the article I had read, revealing that of Red and Indigo I had been privy to many things.
Except Lucia and the girl who now wears her face.
"So are you going to tell me the story behind the upset that's written all over your face?" Nate asked, twiddling the last pencil between his fingers.
"I wouldn't want to waste your time."
Nate scoffed.
"Need I remind you, one cannot waste my time, it's infinite." Nate grinned, savoring my foolishness. "Furthermore, Miss Christine Grace Evans,, although I am sweet Bethany Philips boyfriend, it was you I became friends with that day on the bus. I may have almost risked that today but I didn't," Nate said, and he was right even if neither of us could ignore his hesitation.
"Well, when you put it like that," I conceded. I placed my hands neatly on the desk top, a stance mirrored then by Nate. "Let's say you go round to Beth's house, completely unbeknownst to her, and you find her close to another guy on the sofa...more than comfortably so." I licked my lips. "When Beth realises you've entered the room she gets up and acts as if nothing is new or wrong, no foot is out of place. She tells you the boy is a new lodger in her house, nothing more and of course, you want to believe but you can't stop thinking about the fact he'll always be there, while she sleeps, while she eats, while she dresses and undresses."
Though biologically impossible, I could have sworn Nate paled.
"He quite clearly wants her and you can't mistake just how comfortable Beth is with him. You know despite all of her promises and assurance of there being nothing between them that it's a promise she can't keep because the attraction is clearly there and you know, whatever you try, you'll become a memory, fading slowly until you're completely forgotten," I murmured shakily, finding my own words chilling. At least Nate could not doubt my sincerity and so I waited for his solution.
"Surely what you two have is strong enough?"
Perhaps Nate could taste my bitterness, my concern as the corner of his mouth had become twisted in disgust.
"I want to think so but Kieran and I haven't really known each other that long, infatuation can be fleeting! Can the connection we have and the depth of what we feel be enough to truly know we're soul mates?" I asked. Nate, agitated and restless, rose from his chair and paced. I watched him carefully. His eyes searched the flawless polished floor, shifting uneasily. He pulled his hands through his hair and placed them over his face.
"I don't know, I just don't know. This is you and Kieran, Kieran and you we're talking about." He bit his lip, leant his hand on the wall and then started pacing again. "This shouldn't be complicated!" Nate muttered, kicking Dr. Collins bookcase.
And you thought you were overreacting.
"Nate calm down, I'm sure I'm just over exaggerating," I lied. It sounded convincing enough but Nate wasn't contented. He pulled my chair round so I was facing him. Nate was crouched, as if ready to pounce. He clasped his hands together and stared me straight in the eye.
"I'll do some digging, I refuse to comprehend what you're saying. Kieran loves you – I've all but felt it in my soul and trust me, getting friendly with the Indigo's emotions is no picnic." Nate drew his eyes from mine. "Leave it with me and I promise we'll sort this," Nate said and I had no reason to believe I couldn't trust him.
"Thank you Nate. You always know what to do, don't you?"
"One of the perks of living for as long as I have I guess." Nate shrugged charmingly. "Now is there anything else you need?" I thought for a moment, quite amused what came to mind hadn't done so before.
"There is one little matter I need cleared up," I confessed.
"You name it," Nate said.
"What exactly have you done with my therapist?" I questioned, my tone echoing the menacing intent in his face.
"Oh don't worry, she's quite at home."
* * * *
Having made it a priority, Nate had shooed me from the room whilst he changed into something a little more...Nate, after which we went to rescue Dr. Collins.
Nate opened a cleaner's cupboard with unpalatable enthusiasm to reveal a very drugged Dr. Collins. Her hair had all fallen loose of its neat bun and her face was a white as the bucket she was sat upon. I stared at her, attempting not to be too entertained. She tilted her head and smiled at us.
"Don't do drugs and never ever, ever, ever drink Miss Evans. It's very, very bad for you!" Dr Collins slurred before hiccupping dramatically. "Oh, excuse me!" she tittered. I glowered up at Nate, hard as it may have been.
"What did you do to her?"
"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty dumpty had a gr-gr-great fall." Dr. Collins sniggered through her following hiccups and swayed some more.
"Let's just say she's a bit of a lightweight," Nate confessed. He propped himself under Dr. Collins' elbow and hoisted her up.
"Oooh hello. Do you work around here sweet cheeks?" Dr. Collins leered, her finger wiping the side of Nate's cheek roughly. I was mortified as Nate dragged Dr. Collins and the white bucket back along to her office.
"What did you do, slip something into her tea?" I scoffed, swiping the bucket from his grasp.
"That's exactly what I did!" Nate boasted, tightening his grasp around Dr Collins waist as she stumbled. The goodly therapist didn't seem to mind Nate manhandling her; she was too busy singing nursery rhymes to herself.
"She is really out of it. If someone sees her..." I groaned, pushing open her office door and trying not to imagine what would happen to her career if we were caught. Nate lay her down on the floor and put her into the recovery position. "What the hell did you slip her?"
"It doesn't matter what it was but it won't kill her. I wouldn't be surprised if she was a little sick though," Nate replied. Right on cue Dr. Collins threw up all over the floor.
"Bollocks!" I muttered while Nate ran out for a towel. My therapist's head slumped onto the floor where she proceeded to cease singing nursery rhymes and softly snore instead. "You know Dr. Collins, you could have at least used the bucket."
She didn't stir.
Nate returned with a clean towel and mopped up the pool of sick on the floor.
"Could you not have been a little bit more old fashioned in your methods?" I inquired, almost retching at the smell.
"Gagging and binding her wouldn't have been any good. The drug I slipped into her tea will make he forget everything from when she woke up this morning until she wakes up tomorrow," Nate retorted. I shook my head all too knowingly.
"You don't do things by half do you?" I tutted, pulling back Dr. Collins hair back as she awoke to puke again. The dark haired boy chuckled before turning, quite earnestly to grimace at me.
"Well, Evans, I am Nate after all."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Thank you for reading if you're still out there. You are the ones I come back again and again for.
All my love.
Bekah x