A.N. There is a two week time lapse from the last chapter. I tried to keep it small, and I even tried to write the Kay'ari scene with her guys, showing her with the guys when Cyan walked in on all of them eating with her in the guest room but it just didn't want to be written. We will see them interact in this chapter though! Let me know what you think.
Love, Timmy.
~~~
Kay'ari's/Kayli's POV
Location: Lockheart Estate
Date: November 18th
~~~
A day turns into a few days.
A few days turns into a week.
A week turns two.
~~~
The captives with nowhere else to go find themselves on the Lockheart Estates. They come in waves from the hospital. Cyan and Leninora set up a counseling services, community sign-up sheet for jobs around the Estate and so much more that I'm not even sure how they keep up with all the people and all the responsibilities.
I work on helping everyone get set up in rooms and in some cases homes. I look after the kids. I start my work at the security office.
The men, the Toma team and the few odd others from 'the Academy,' never leave.
Everyone on the Estate gets into a rhythm of sorts.
Most of the guys, the Acadamy guys, spend their mornings' chopping wood for the communal house fireplaces.
The weather in California isn't like Nevada or anywhere I've ever been. It gets cold here, especially in the mornings and so they make sure the fires run through the day and into the night.
North Taylor makes dinner for the community. Marc of the Toma team makes lunch and the first coffee set-up of the day. Leninora, of all the freaking people on the Estate, makes breakfast.
Silas Korba, Axel Toma, and Victor Morgan work with Doyle, Corey and my brother Wil to iron down our little security problems, along with the help of Cyan, or instead Sang, as she allows the men to call her now.
I'm not sure when it started, but the easy way her old friends refer to her as such is catching.
Speaking of my favorite young comrade in arms, as the days grow colder she becomes less and less...present.
At first, she'd disappear for a few hours, but she'd eventually return to join in on the day's group meetings and relay information about her part in the security measures, and on her search for Tommy.
Now, she's around for a bit in the mornings to help Len cook. Sometimes she'll pop in for lunch; occasionally she'll slip in for dinner. She'll ask about the kids and then inquire about news on the doctor, Sean Green, and about North's brother, Lucian Taylor. She'll remark on the largeness of the Estate, and how it's coming along on. Once in a blue moon, she'll share information about Roman's court case.
I have to wonder if she's getting close to finding Tommy because the last few days I haven't actually seen or heard from her. Information comes far and few between from her own lips as it is, but her absence has been especially notable lately. Leninora's become the go-between, but I do note that anything on Tommy is an immediate priority and is always as thoroughly described as possible.
I don't know where Cyan goes, and she doesn't offer a location when I ask. Leninora promises me she's safe but refuses to disclose much more than that. Strangely enough, it bothers me less than it seems to bother North and Victor. Both ask about Cy every day and wilt when she disappears to her solitude without a word.
Silas Korba, however, is a hard man to read and yet I sense from a few hushed conversations that he knows something about Cyan. I think he's the only thing keeping those boys from following her to wherever she goes.
I want to push him, but that same intuition that tells me he knows something gives me the impression that there isn't a thing I can do or say that will break his apparent vow of silence. Literally and metaphorically.
The guy's nearly a mute.
It scares me though. Whatever Cyan, or Sang, is working on seems to pull her more and more into her own personal darkness.
Her self-isolation on the Lockheart Estate appears to have the opposite effect on her mood than our time on Locklin Beach.
Before, the calm of solitude gave her a lightness that spoke of a slow release of guilt and pain from our past.
Now, it's like she's gearing up for war. I see it in her eyes; a growing wildfire of rage building up from the pile of shards of herself, the ones she references here and there, like so much kindling.
Her mouth is constantly set, teeth gritted in anger and determination. I've noted how her wardrobe reflects her constant state of suppressed emotion;
Turbulent silence; shades of gray and washed-out blacks.
Quiet contemplation; muted pastels.
Intense introspection; hazy touches of chiffon and lace.
Guilt-ridden reminiscence; bare feet and unbound hair.
"What're you thinking about so deeply over there, Kaykay?" Rhonda calls to me from the couch in my cottage.
I had a choice of staying in the large mansion, but after an unfortunate set back with Vivienne, it became more important to stay closer to the woods.
"Just wondering what's going on with our girl. She's been MIA lately," I call back.
"Who? Cyan?" Rhonda taps at the computer in her lap, before smacking it shut. "I actually wanted to talk to you about Cy. You can't keep avoiding me and this conversation."
I feel my face heat up, blood rushing into my cheeks, and I set down the knife I'm using to chop vegetables. I have been avoiding this conversation. And not for the reasons I'm sure Rhonda has been building up in her head.
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
"You need to talk to Cyan about Vivienne and her problems. You and I both know Cyan is only exasperating the issue. She can't keep trying to protect everyone by keeping her plans to herself. It's making everyone nervous and on edge."
I toss my veggies into the stew I'm making and set the heat on low. It smells great, and I just know my stew is going to beat Leninora's by a landslide.
I leave the stew to...you know, stew, and walk through the kitchen, past the dining table, and around the side of the couch into the living room.
I face Rhonda, the redness of my cheeks cooling from the chill of the room.
The kitchen is warm, from the hearth fireplace I've been keeping fed all morning, and the oven that I've been using to make a few stews and pie's for tonight's dinner and lunch.
The guys went into town for supplies, and I volunteered to cook today instead. Len said something about making a stew too, and now it's a competition. Go figure, Leninora apparently loves cooking. Obsessively so.
The living room is only a few paces from the kitchen, and yet the draftiness of the house (i.e. all the freaking windows!) keeps the fires from effecting any other part of the cottage.
Rhonda, our unconventional dresser of the family, is wearing a large sweater and a pair of jeans, unheard of for her tastes...and nearly a matching pair to my own outfit.
"I can't make her tell us what she's got going on. I can only remind her that we're here for her and that we're just as effective as she is when it comes to getting shit done. She's internalizing a lot of her emotions right now, throwing herself into whatever she's got going on in that head of hers. Pushing her into sharing those emotions isn't the right way. We need to let Cyan come to us."
I try to convey how important it is, how irrevocably, I trust that Cyan will come to us when she's ready. I want to rave about how introverted she is right now, but I don't have the words to really describe the deepness of Cyan's mind. Like a cavern, with her at the very heart of its deep tunnels. No amount of pushing her is going to bring her back to the surface. Not yet.
Not even for our Vivienne.
"I know that's how your relationship with her works, but I don't think it's working for Viv...or me. I need to know what she's planning."
I lift my eyes from the carpet, where I'd been glaring at a spot in the carpet that I've been trying to clean a stain out of, and really look at Rhonda. The tilt of her mouth and the tired shadows under her eyes shine back at me with a desperate air.
"Why?" I stare her down, getting a little exasperated now. She's got the expression of a frog ready to throw up another frog. "I understand you're worried about Vivienne. That makes sense, but why is it not working for you? "
"My father called." She wrings her hands.
"Okay," confusion heavy in my tone. "You two talk all the time. Did something happen?"
I feel a little dread at the thought of what business mogul and arms-dealer Richardo 'Papa' Childsch may be calling his little girl about.
I have seen neither hide nor hair of any of the stuff he's supposedly been sending in, but I know something has been coming in.
Leninora had taken me on a round of pointing out locations of guns hidden around the property, and I know she's passed out quite a few Tazer guns to the security guys.
Ricardo's men, The Childsch guys, are additions to the already-hired security, and have been nothing if not professional; their circuits of the property are down-right clockwork exact. We need them here, at least until Dontavion and his followers have been put to bed.
"Does he want to stop supplying us with protection?" I ask, getting good and alarmed. With Dontavion out there, we need all the help we can get and the Childsch company has been a huge help.
Rhonda nearly bursts, words shooting from her lips in a rush, "He's worried. He wanted to know what's going on. What we're planning. The stuff we've been receiving is no joke. He sent me a list.... "Rhonda digs her hands into her hair and sighs deeply. "What I saw, Kay? And what my dad told me? It's crazy. I'm worried she's crazy!"
"What are you talking about?" I'm even more alarmed now, if that's possible. Rhonda doesn't throw around that word often. Crazy is a word reserved for only the most intense of situations, in my experience.
"She's got enough weaponry on this property to level a small country. Maybe even a medium-sized one." Rhonda explains, hands flailing around. "C-4, automatic machine guns, grenades, armed drones. That's not even the stuff I'm worried about." Rhonda sits up from her spread-leg guy pose. Her back stiffens, and it's so much like on of Cyan's power poses, that it throws me off. She's trying too hard to look imposing.
"She asked for machinery to build a UGV." My face must convey my complete ignorance of what a UGV is, because Rhonda gets that look on her face. The one of complete irritation that she has to explain something 'so universally known to be common knowledge'.
"An unmanned ground vehicle. Also commonly known as a modern-day tank," Rhonda shrieks at me. "What the fuck does she even need a tank for? A fucking tank! Do you know how quick we would all end up in jail if any of the dozens of government agencies sniffing around find that shit? I'm already on thin ice as it is, Kay! The Lockheart veil of protection can only save us from so much!"
I take a shuddering breath in. What is the crazy girl doing to us?
I had no idea what she was up to.
This is worse than even my vivid imagination could have come up with. But maybe that's the problem.
I wasn't really thinking about what she was doing. I was hyper-focused on how she wasn't around, and not even concerned in the least about her actions when her metaphorical door was shut.
"Do you know if she's gotten it built yet?" I ask, careful to keep my voice as calm as possible. It's only been two weeks. Surely she can't have gotten that much done, so fast. It's not physically possible.
"The shipment only came in this weekend. It's why my dad called. We need to do something. She's getting out of control." Rhonda grabs my hand to pull me closer, but I wave her off.
Rhonda has a way sometimes of being too pushy and far too familiar. Because of our unique position, I understand the need to feel secure and connected. She's afraid. She wants to be close to us and in the know, and secure in her place in our group dynamic.
It's no secret though, that I consider Cyan as my partner in crime and in life, my confidant and co-parent; and Rhonda and Sonny as my siblings, my family, but still distant. Separate.
Rhonda has always wanted more though. More attention, more connection, just more. I think it's that part of her that still longs for a true family, but a family like her own, one steeped in the darker side of life. And if that doesn't describe our family unit, then I don't know what does.
"I'll talk to her," I promise. "And Vivienne."
I can see that it's not enough, but with my mind whirling and processing, I don't have the patience to placate Rhonnie right now.
She's always been more afraid of getting caught than even myself, and that's ever given me a mental image of her being squirrely.
And that's why I can't promise her information. She's too jumpy. Too ready to leap into action. Whatever Cy is planning, I'm confident it'll require a level head. Planning. Time; plus I'm not too sure how level-headed a squirrel can be.
I walk back to the kitchen, to finish making lunch with images of Cyan blowing herself up with a fucking tank in my mind, Rhonda's eyes burning holes in my back the whole way.
~~~
My first stop to drop off food is the Lockheart medical cottage. It's a lot like mine, with stucco walls and wood flooring. It's a little larger, and more open-concept where mine has retained it's old-world charm.
I move through the silent house, passing through the mudroom and empty t.v. room to the hallway that houses the medical rooms.
My quarry today is in the furthest room in the back. It's where we keep our loudest, most unruly patients. Or rather, the one I'm told is the loudest and most unruly.
Yvegny Ravenstal has been under sedation for the past two weeks, due to his infamous (and supposedly explosive) hatred of hospitals. I guess even nice ones like this place.
Savannah had made a comment yesterday that he was coming off the medication today and asked me to bring some food. I'd pointed out that he has a whole group of friends that could throw together a sandwich for him, but she'd been adamant.
"You've got a way about you with beastly creatures." She'd smirked at me. "Make him some stew. Something easy on the stomach. Take it over and welcome him back to reality."
I'd only agreed when she promised to make the trek out to Viv, to give her a checkup. Viv is staying in the forest, far from walls of any sort. Claustrophobia, mixed in with her traumatic times in the Mav Estate, and apparently exacerbated by Cyan's secret war efforts, has created a pretty awful cocktail of fear in my little girl.
She refuses to step inside any building. No exceptions. A little over a week ago, she had a full-on screaming, crying anxiety attack and it's been this way ever since.
I walk up to the closed bedroom door in the quiet cottage, the tray of food balanced haphazardly in one hand as I knock.
I don't hear anything after a moment, and I knock once more before opening the door and stepping inside.
This room must be the master, because it's the largest in the house, as far as I've seen. The walls are plain white and the floors are carpeted. I smile at the large lump of a man in the bed. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing deeply. Clearly still asleep.
I set down the tray, glad I'd thought to put the stew in a thermos. The smell would probably have woken him up, and he needs all the sleep he can get.
There's a small fire stove set up in here, meant to keep this room toasty-warm in the winter. 'Considering how cold it is in this house', I think to myself, 'a fire is just the thing for this guy to wake up to after two weeks.'
If he's anything like his friends, I'm sure we'll get along swimmingly. His boyfriend, Corey, has refused to leave his side this past couple of fortnights, only stepping out to catch the wi-fi close to the neighboring house. The time spent with him is quiet, and so achingly sweet to listen to his stories about 'Raven'. A few have even featured me, or rather other-me, Kayli; the me from before. I'm surprised Corey's not here, though I didn't check the patio area, which is the spot that the wi-fi is strongest.
It's always odd to hear them talk about me, but not at the same time. Most of the time, when one of the guys talk about me, (or again, Kayli), they speak as if I'm a whole 'nother person.
Not the girl I was before I was kidnapped, but rather a friend that's been long gone, and they're merely reminiscing with me about her.
I appreciate their separating those memories of the me from then to the me now.
I'm proud to be me, rather than some angry girl, striking at everything around me because of the situations I found myself in: A dead beat father, a dead mother, no education and no positive outlook on life. People all around me who didn't care and were more worried about themselves. Save Wil, of course. And the guys, I guess.
But now, I have kids who love me, and who look to me for advice and direction.
I have a friend who is far more than just that, who trusts me and respects my opinion.
I've got value, and not just because I'm a great pickpocket with a sharp wit and tongue. I'm the best me I can be.
I finally get the fire to catch and smile as I take in a deep breath. There's nothing better than a freshly lit fire to calm the senses.
I sit in the chair next to Raven's bed, with half a mind to nibble on some of the fresh bread I brought, but decide against it.
Instead, I grab the coffee, figuring that wasn't for him anyway. Marc makes a mean mocha, and I cherish the warmth as I take a sip.
Marc is a gentleman, and I love helping him in the mornings, getting the coffee machines set up and organizing the ballroom in the Lockheart Manor for meals for the whole Estate community. It seems like we get more people every day, and yet Marc seems to always know each and every person by name.
Brandon has been a wonderful addition to workouts in the mid-morning. He's great at adding new and interesting things to our circuits and the conversations with him are....just so deep. Even with Cyan, I've never spoken about the things I have with Brandon, or at least not in the same ways. He's so unafraid of stepping into that dark space with me, but unlike with Cyan, he has no problem helping me step back out.
Axel is a mystery, and one I enjoy digging at. He's been spending time with Viv, helping her set up her space, and it's been a joy to watch them together. If not for him, I'm not sure what we'd have done for Vivienne. He's been instrumental in helping her work through what she needs.
And Blake. Well, Blake comes with his own issues, ones I'm not sure I want anything to do with. He's so stuck on the past, it's like dealing with wet tissue paper with him. He just won't let it go.
My thoughts stray from there, flitting from one thing to the next. Things have been moving both quick and slow. I've got the kids with me day and night, and that's moving like a hurricane. I run back and forth from the spot Viv picked out a quarter of a mile back, in a clearing, bringing food and supplies. Soon we're going to be school touring to find the perfect place to enroll the kids in and I allow myself to stress about that for a few minutes...
In comparison, everything on the Mav hunt has been slow as molasses. And now I find out Cy has been building her own personal military-worthy armory. Life just gets more and more complicated.
A noise in the room, low and throaty, scares me out of my thoughts.
Big brown eyes peek at me from the bed and I jump up from my perch in the chair when I realize it's Raven trying to speak.
I grab the water bottle on his nightstand and tip it to his mouth so he can take a drink. He grunts at me, and takes it from my hands with greedy paws. I'm sure I should warn him to take it slow, but it's a little fascinating to watch his throat move so quickly.
"Am I dead?" He finally asks, and my eyebrows raise.
"Uh, no," I respond. I briefly consider checking his temperature. Maybe he's delirious? Should I call Savannah? He literally just woke up though, so I decide I'll give him a minute. Perhaps he's still waking up?
"I have to be. You're here." He moves to get out of bed and I practically fall in his lap shoving him back down. Man, Savannah's going to kick my ass.
"Stay laying down. You've been down and out for two weeks." I growl at him, trying to find my balance, but he's not really helping matters.
His arms move around me, whether to push me off or pull me close I don't know.
It's a tangle of arms and bodies, until it's not.
I settle, and so does he, and neither of us moves. He's gone back to laying still again with me cradled in his arms.
My nose scrunches though because as warm and cuddly as he is, he smells like sweat and not in a nice way.
"Okay." He simply says.
He snuggles his face into my hair and I swear he even sniffs me.
This guy has serious boundary issues, exactly the same as Roman.
"You smell nice. Like spicy apples," he murmurs and I snort. He even sounds like Roman.
"I made an apple pie earlier. If you're good and let Corey give you a sponge bath, you can even have a piece." I say, smirking.
Speaking of the devil, a door opens behind us and I hear a choking sound. Then Corey's surprised voice fills the room, "Raven! You're awake!"
"Yeah. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I am in heaven." Raven lets go of me reluctantly.
Raven's arms stretch out to beckon to Corey. "Group hug?" He questions, with big pleading eyes.
I smile, completely understanding now why Corey is so in love with this guy. I quickly moving out of range of what much be a cuddle monster.
Raven lets out a weak stream of complaints, saying something more about group hugs, but I tune him out to address Corey instead.
"I brought stew and a few water bottles. There's also a loaf of bread and an apple. If he lets you give him a sponge bath, give him a slice of the pie." I stop, wincing at the sudden appearance of tears in Corey's eyes.
He must not have expected Raven to wake up. That's the only reason I can come up with for this sudden onslaught of emotion threatening to drown this poor sweet boy in front of me.
I swear, it should be illegal for a guy with such pretty eyes to look so thoroughly at any one person.
He and his brother are so alike, but it's those eyes that set them apart from one another.
While one looks deep, the other practically shoves his emotions out into the world. It's a hell of a thing because right now I can literally feel Corey's relief and love directed at me and it's so all-consuming, so raw, that it leaves me light-headed.
His eyes finally let me go, to slide past me, and lock on Raven.
One tear falls and that's all it takes to make me feel like I'm in a very private moment.
I edge away, moving out of the most likely path Corey's going to take to run into his boyfriend's arms.
He doesn't run, though I can see he's trying really hard not to as he walks past me.
I go to the door and move to close it quietly behind me when Raven snatches Corey in his arms. I hear a soft exhale swallowed up by a very desperate sounding groan.
The door closes with a soft snap.
I stand outside of it for a spell, feeling off-kilter, but really not knowing why. I don't recognize the pressure in my chest, nor the heat in my cheeks as I listen to them through the door.
At some point, I force myself to walk away from them and their moment. I walk out of the cottage, hazily, trying desperately to snatch back the last of my breath and pull it back into my body.
What an utterly intense pair.