08 / 12 / 09 - Bahir, Natalie
=XF= 210 |Natalie| - Residences - Chemekata Military Base
The front door opens into a wide and airy space lit by full-length windows on the far wall. The California mountains spread lush beyond the glass, with the reservoir a glitter of light. To one side stands a coat closet, and to the other, a watercloset. A few steps further in, the kitchen curves around with a small stove, refrigerator, and sink. The counter wraps to form an island, beyond which the rest of the apartment is visible. The living area is wide-set with full length windows allowing California sunshine to spill across the thick carpet. Glass doors slide open, leading out onto a small stone terrace.
An alcove just past the kitchen counter opens to two rooms: one is a spare room, given over to any number of uses, while the other is the master suite, startlingly luxurious in choice of bathroom fixtures. The view from the large window in the bedroom is marvelous, sharing the same prospect as the living room.
Dinner at Natalie's consisting of fake Thai made from a box -- shhh, don't tell! -- Bahir is reading the instructions as they finish. "So, that's pretty much it, I guess. Just put them together." He sets the back down where Natalie can see it, if she cares to double check, and then turns away to get plates. "So, uh." UH.
"There's no way this is going to be any good," Natalie answers dubiously, bending to her task of, you know, putting them together. Bahir's 'uh' gets no response - there are more important things here! Like Thai! "Why didn't you bring me back something /real/?"
Bahir grins. "I thought about it, but I didn't think pad thai would transport well." He shifts up to look over her shoulder, plates on the counter at her elbow. "It's probably better than /no/ Thai would be, right?"
Natalie looks up, raising her brows as she fixes her gaze on Bahir. /Really/?
"Well. Maybe." Bahir reaches past Natalie to dish things into the plates, all rice noodley and spicy.
"Uh huh," says Natalie, sliding sideways to allow Bahir the room to grab. Since he appears to be doing so annnnnyway. "You want a beer or soda? Or... uh. Something else?"
"Beer's fine." Bahir takes one of the plates and then leans against the counter, watching Natalie. He doesn't yet try it. "So, about New York."
Natalie bends to retrieve one, tossing it up at Bahir before she drags one out for herself. Hopefully he catches. She spins, stealing the other plate, and tips a glance at Bahir on her way to the couch, which is clearly a better place to eat than the dinner table. "Have a good time?"
Bahir catches. Following Natalie to the couch, he curls into a cross-legged seat and gives her a slight smile. "Yes. Then I came back. Look. Natalie -- I talked to Percy. I want to go back to New York."
Natalie settles the plate on her knee, her head halfway bent to scoop up a bite of noodles when Bahir speaks. She pauses there, then straightens slowly, lowering her fork back to the plate. For a moment she doesn't say anything.
Bahir grimaces, looking away as he sets his plate down on the coffee table, and then back. He waits.
Natalie's gaze fixes on Bahir, latching firmly there as she waits, in return. Eventually she breathes out slowly, audibly, and says quietly, "Percy wants to, too?"
"He's willing to return, yes," Bahir says, emphasis shifted slightly. "I just -- I can't let this whole thing turn my life's passion into a hobby that I barely have time for."
Natalie's lower lip catches between her teeth, and she gnaws on it for a moment as she drops her gaze to the plate of noodles in her lap. After a few seconds she nods, head bobbing a few times in silent agreement.
"Have you ever thought about it?" asks Bahir, unable to thoroughly squash a hopeful note.
Natalie's gaze snaps up again, her features set in a creased frown as she replies sharply, "Of course I've /thought/ about it, Bahir."
"But you haven't," Bahir says.
"I haven't what?" Natalie asks, fixing her gaze levelly on Bahir.
"I don't know. Gone? Thought about it seriously?" Bahir gestures vaguely. "Why haven't you?"
"Don't you think we made a committment, when we came out here?" Natalie says quietly. "And what would I go back to? An apartment I no longer have? A job that's been given to someone else? Watching a city I loved go down the hole a little bit further every year?"
"I came here for my cousin." And stuff. "And she's -- I don't know. Here, at least. Safe -- probably not. She won't listen to me. She won't go home. She thinks she's an adult and a soldier." Bahir is less quiet than Natalie, maybe, but just as intent on her. "Tom can do everything I can do. Kelsey can do everything Percy can do. We aren't needed. If you think you are needed here -- well, I won't blame you. But I will miss you like crazy."
There is a span of silence from Natalie, although the turmoil of emotions wrestle clearly across her features. Yearning and anger and frustration and annoyance. She tugs her glasses free, rubbing hard at her face before she slides them back into place with a circumspect slide of her thumb under her eyes. Eventually she lifts her head and says, "So you've decided to go, then."
Bahir nods, slightly. He is polite enough to keep telepathy tightly shielded, but her expressions? He's learned to read those, by now. "I'm sorry. I guess."
Natalie rolls her shoulders back, rocking them in what tries to be a dismissive gesture, and then turns to slide her untouched dinner to the coffee table. "You don't have to apologize for making decisions about your life."
"Maybe not, but I'm still sorry." Bahir tries out a smile for Natalie, but it is small and weak. "Maybe I can mail you takeout."
"Don't do that, Bahir," Natalie says abruptly, her expression the opposite of a smile, with a drawn tenseness that settles in over her features.
Bahir points at the door. "I can go."
"You /are/ going, that's the /point/," Natalie answers in a sudden burst of anger, spun to face him with a hard-flung gesture. Just as suddenly, she deflates again, turning forward and tucking her hand back into her lap. "I'm sorry," she says, choking her voice tight.
"Yeah. But. If you need some time," Bahir says weakly, trailing off. He then opens his arms at her: HUG?!
Natalie stares down at her hands instead, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she twists fingers through each other. There's a deep inhalation, and she parts her breath as if she's going to reply. Except she doesn't. Silence stretches.
Bahir drops his arms, but he creeps one of his hands over, offered to Natalie.
Natalie untwists her fingers, then twists them again. Eventually she looks over at Bahir, first at that offered hand, then up to him. Her eyes are dark, lashes wet with the betraying leak of tears, and she shakes her head. "Please don't," she says.
"I can't just sit here," Bahir says, fingers curling to form a fist.
"Then go," Natalie says, dropping her gaze back to that hand, now fist, and then pulling it away entirely.
"I don't want to just leave you, either," Bahir says, sitting awkwardly.
Natalie straightens and then droops again, leaning back to slump against the couch. "What do you want me to do then, Bahir? Will it make you feel better if I curl up and cry on you?"
Bahir shifts, looking away. "It would at least make me feel better if I knew you hadn't decided moving away from you was unforgivable. If I knew that you weren't making it a choice between you and everything else."
Natalie's head jerks up, snapping toward Bahir as her jaw unhinges, and for a moment she simply stares at him. Eventually she answers, short and succint, "Fuck you."
Expression tight, Bahir looks back at Natalie, reflexive anger briefly covering something like hurt. Then he shakes his head, and rises. "I sure as fuck don't want to get in a fight with you about this. And I know it isn't easy for you -- because it isn't easy for /me/, either. So I'll go. I'll talk to you later. I just -- I thought you deserved to know first."
"Then don't start putting words into my mouth that never came the fuck /out/ of it," Natalie snaps in return. "I am /sorry/ that I'm not happy about this for you, but that's no fucking reason to turn me into /that/. You fucking /asshole/."
"I'm not fighting with you," Bahir says, jaw tight. He swallows back anything else he has to say and leaves his beer unopened next to his untouched plate, heading to the door.
Natalie doesn't say anything else. Her eyes follow Bahir halfway to the door and then tear away, jerking to the tall windows of her living room with a forced steadiness.
Telling Natalie goes about as expected.
The front door opens into a wide and airy space lit by full-length windows on the far wall. The California mountains spread lush beyond the glass, with the reservoir a glitter of light. To one side stands a coat closet, and to the other, a watercloset. A few steps further in, the kitchen curves around with a small stove, refrigerator, and sink. The counter wraps to form an island, beyond which the rest of the apartment is visible. The living area is wide-set with full length windows allowing California sunshine to spill across the thick carpet. Glass doors slide open, leading out onto a small stone terrace.
An alcove just past the kitchen counter opens to two rooms: one is a spare room, given over to any number of uses, while the other is the master suite, startlingly luxurious in choice of bathroom fixtures. The view from the large window in the bedroom is marvelous, sharing the same prospect as the living room.
Dinner at Natalie's consisting of fake Thai made from a box -- shhh, don't tell! -- Bahir is reading the instructions as they finish. "So, that's pretty much it, I guess. Just put them together." He sets the back down where Natalie can see it, if she cares to double check, and then turns away to get plates. "So, uh." UH.
"There's no way this is going to be any good," Natalie answers dubiously, bending to her task of, you know, putting them together. Bahir's 'uh' gets no response - there are more important things here! Like Thai! "Why didn't you bring me back something /real/?"
Bahir grins. "I thought about it, but I didn't think pad thai would transport well." He shifts up to look over her shoulder, plates on the counter at her elbow. "It's probably better than /no/ Thai would be, right?"
Natalie looks up, raising her brows as she fixes her gaze on Bahir. /Really/?
"Well. Maybe." Bahir reaches past Natalie to dish things into the plates, all rice noodley and spicy.
"Uh huh," says Natalie, sliding sideways to allow Bahir the room to grab. Since he appears to be doing so annnnnyway. "You want a beer or soda? Or... uh. Something else?"
"Beer's fine." Bahir takes one of the plates and then leans against the counter, watching Natalie. He doesn't yet try it. "So, about New York."
Natalie bends to retrieve one, tossing it up at Bahir before she drags one out for herself. Hopefully he catches. She spins, stealing the other plate, and tips a glance at Bahir on her way to the couch, which is clearly a better place to eat than the dinner table. "Have a good time?"
Bahir catches. Following Natalie to the couch, he curls into a cross-legged seat and gives her a slight smile. "Yes. Then I came back. Look. Natalie -- I talked to Percy. I want to go back to New York."
Natalie settles the plate on her knee, her head halfway bent to scoop up a bite of noodles when Bahir speaks. She pauses there, then straightens slowly, lowering her fork back to the plate. For a moment she doesn't say anything.
Bahir grimaces, looking away as he sets his plate down on the coffee table, and then back. He waits.
Natalie's gaze fixes on Bahir, latching firmly there as she waits, in return. Eventually she breathes out slowly, audibly, and says quietly, "Percy wants to, too?"
"He's willing to return, yes," Bahir says, emphasis shifted slightly. "I just -- I can't let this whole thing turn my life's passion into a hobby that I barely have time for."
Natalie's lower lip catches between her teeth, and she gnaws on it for a moment as she drops her gaze to the plate of noodles in her lap. After a few seconds she nods, head bobbing a few times in silent agreement.
"Have you ever thought about it?" asks Bahir, unable to thoroughly squash a hopeful note.
Natalie's gaze snaps up again, her features set in a creased frown as she replies sharply, "Of course I've /thought/ about it, Bahir."
"But you haven't," Bahir says.
"I haven't what?" Natalie asks, fixing her gaze levelly on Bahir.
"I don't know. Gone? Thought about it seriously?" Bahir gestures vaguely. "Why haven't you?"
"Don't you think we made a committment, when we came out here?" Natalie says quietly. "And what would I go back to? An apartment I no longer have? A job that's been given to someone else? Watching a city I loved go down the hole a little bit further every year?"
"I came here for my cousin." And stuff. "And she's -- I don't know. Here, at least. Safe -- probably not. She won't listen to me. She won't go home. She thinks she's an adult and a soldier." Bahir is less quiet than Natalie, maybe, but just as intent on her. "Tom can do everything I can do. Kelsey can do everything Percy can do. We aren't needed. If you think you are needed here -- well, I won't blame you. But I will miss you like crazy."
There is a span of silence from Natalie, although the turmoil of emotions wrestle clearly across her features. Yearning and anger and frustration and annoyance. She tugs her glasses free, rubbing hard at her face before she slides them back into place with a circumspect slide of her thumb under her eyes. Eventually she lifts her head and says, "So you've decided to go, then."
Bahir nods, slightly. He is polite enough to keep telepathy tightly shielded, but her expressions? He's learned to read those, by now. "I'm sorry. I guess."
Natalie rolls her shoulders back, rocking them in what tries to be a dismissive gesture, and then turns to slide her untouched dinner to the coffee table. "You don't have to apologize for making decisions about your life."
"Maybe not, but I'm still sorry." Bahir tries out a smile for Natalie, but it is small and weak. "Maybe I can mail you takeout."
"Don't do that, Bahir," Natalie says abruptly, her expression the opposite of a smile, with a drawn tenseness that settles in over her features.
Bahir points at the door. "I can go."
"You /are/ going, that's the /point/," Natalie answers in a sudden burst of anger, spun to face him with a hard-flung gesture. Just as suddenly, she deflates again, turning forward and tucking her hand back into her lap. "I'm sorry," she says, choking her voice tight.
"Yeah. But. If you need some time," Bahir says weakly, trailing off. He then opens his arms at her: HUG?!
Natalie stares down at her hands instead, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she twists fingers through each other. There's a deep inhalation, and she parts her breath as if she's going to reply. Except she doesn't. Silence stretches.
Bahir drops his arms, but he creeps one of his hands over, offered to Natalie.
Natalie untwists her fingers, then twists them again. Eventually she looks over at Bahir, first at that offered hand, then up to him. Her eyes are dark, lashes wet with the betraying leak of tears, and she shakes her head. "Please don't," she says.
"I can't just sit here," Bahir says, fingers curling to form a fist.
"Then go," Natalie says, dropping her gaze back to that hand, now fist, and then pulling it away entirely.
"I don't want to just leave you, either," Bahir says, sitting awkwardly.
Natalie straightens and then droops again, leaning back to slump against the couch. "What do you want me to do then, Bahir? Will it make you feel better if I curl up and cry on you?"
Bahir shifts, looking away. "It would at least make me feel better if I knew you hadn't decided moving away from you was unforgivable. If I knew that you weren't making it a choice between you and everything else."
Natalie's head jerks up, snapping toward Bahir as her jaw unhinges, and for a moment she simply stares at him. Eventually she answers, short and succint, "Fuck you."
Expression tight, Bahir looks back at Natalie, reflexive anger briefly covering something like hurt. Then he shakes his head, and rises. "I sure as fuck don't want to get in a fight with you about this. And I know it isn't easy for you -- because it isn't easy for /me/, either. So I'll go. I'll talk to you later. I just -- I thought you deserved to know first."
"Then don't start putting words into my mouth that never came the fuck /out/ of it," Natalie snaps in return. "I am /sorry/ that I'm not happy about this for you, but that's no fucking reason to turn me into /that/. You fucking /asshole/."
"I'm not fighting with you," Bahir says, jaw tight. He swallows back anything else he has to say and leaves his beer unopened next to his untouched plate, heading to the door.
Natalie doesn't say anything else. Her eyes follow Bahir halfway to the door and then tear away, jerking to the tall windows of her living room with a forced steadiness.
Telling Natalie goes about as expected.