and the lighthouse

Those words often beckon a feeling of dread, equal parts relief that she wont have to fear returning to the brothel empty handed. This time there’s a wavering neutrality, like she could jump one way or the other. She never moves, it doesn’t shift. So when Ines speaks again, she’s caught easier by those words, can form response to them. “You don’t have anything to thank me for.” It’s true. Drawing Ines away from the place benefited her own conscience, her own secrecy. “I don’t turn down tea though.” it’s an olive branch for the guilt she feels at lying. Strange and twisted as it is. 

“Have you lived here long? it’s a pretty area.” Whether it is or not she would have said it, a need to be polite. “I walk by here quite a lot. There’s a dog park not far I like to visit.”

Her safety was entirely tied to Azra and her decision to move in. Ines means to protest as much but feels the words escape her. Some distant part of her mind says to choose her words, to not be her dogged self for once. Then a breath seized in her chest releases as Azra agrees. The briery tension in her shoulders begin to melt and run down the spine, easing her into the seat. Ines angles to the other and grins soft, barely seen but for the lights that pass by and illuminate the space between them. “We have that in common.”

“It’s been about five years.” Not long, though she had become attached to the building, despite its faults. It offered her some semblance of a home, of security. “Yes,” she exclaims, “Pegasus Dog Park? I love it there, too.” She lights up, perhaps more so than called for, comforted to find some tangible connection to the other woman when their existences feel miles apart. “Maybe we can go someday.” A stray thought, one she feels rather childish for suggesting. The low lights hide her wincing as they turn down the street, parking in on her space.

The guilt hanging in her chest didn’t feel any lighter watching Ines’s reaction. Sometimes she was good with turning the conscience off. It was the only way she could survive this long. But somehow she couldn’t turn it off when it came to this. Ines’s words specifically hit her to her core – It’s hard to reconcile, being forced to become someone I’m not. If only she knew, really knew, how much Lex related to that statement. It was why she could so casually give her next response. “You’ll get used to it. Chicago brings out the worst in people. Even the good people.” It was a dark truth she learned quickly in her time in this city. She figured that sounded a bit callous, so she offered a softer add-on to her statement. “I’m sorry. About all of this. You shouldn’t have to worry constantly about what Emir plans to do.” 

She looked down for a moment. Lex could’ve told herself that Ines would’ve gotten into this situation on her own eventually to try and clear her conscience, but she had been the one to actually paint the target on Ines’s back. She couldn’t deny that no matter what. “If it brings some comfort to you, I do keep an ear out to find out if he’s planning anything. And if I ever hear anything, I’ll let you know,” she tried to reassure her, thought she wasn’t sure what good that would do. The damage had long been done.

She wasn’t sure what to make of this show of vulnerability. Ines must have been really tired, to reveal this to someone she didn’t know. Lex could never. Not to strangers, and especially not to people she did know. Sentimentality was never her strong suit. And she wasn’t sure how else to help Ines. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated about that. 

“Everyone’s on edge. They’re thinking there’s a rat on the inside because of how easily the cops found the papers.” It was a little amusing, since they were correct. And she was the rat. She fought back a smirk but the amusement was ever so slightly evident in her eyes. “So paranoia’s at an all-time high. The higher-ups have been quiet about next steps with the rest of us. I’m assuming they’re planning out how to get Irena out of this, or figuring out who planted the papers there. Or both.” Likely both, as her actions has caused quite the shake throughout the organization. It was why she wasn’t planning to do anything major for a while, for the sake of keeping her cover. “In the mean time, everyone’s being extra careful with their… ‘extracurricular’ activities, since the CPD has their eyes on us now because of the raids. But operations are still going as normal. Just extra discreet.”

She placed her cup on the coffee table. “That’s pretty much all I have for you. I don’t get access to a lot of juicy stuff working as a mindless drone,” she remarked with a slight smirk.

You’ll get used to it. 

An unnerving thought. How the seedy, ruinous underbelly of the city contorts and extorts the goodness in you. Ines stares blankly into the edges of the room where the light doesn’t reach, mouth turned down at the corners. A darting glance to Al as the woman goes on, gentler now. Not enough to unsee or unknow these ugly truths but a solace nonetheless, for the time being. Ines musters a small smile, not entirely forced. She was thankful, to have someone on her side. At times it felt as though the fight was hers alone.

“It does,” she says, some sliver of desperation behind her eyes. It does brings me comfort. Ines clutches to these ports of safety as someone drowning, the swelling waves lapping at her back. “I just hope doing so won’t put you in any more danger.” It was a half-truth, perhaps. The strive for truth was steeped in peril but worth the fight. Still, she knew the chances of being found out were stacking uncomfortably high before Al, and Ines was tired of losing people.

Her rushed writing slowly fills the page, out of order and in her own shorthand. Passing thoughts and questions she has to remember in the margins. Sunken eyes reread the notes before she closes the book and glances up. She mirrors the smirk, though falls short as her thoughts run. “I’d say you’ve brought plenty of juice,” she says and blows out a breath, palms the small notebook. 

A look of curiosity formed on Lex’s face, wondering what this mysterious weapon of Ines’s was. But once she got the answer, her lips cracked into an amused smile. She shook her head. “I’m frozen with fear,” she chuckled. She didn’t doubt the other woman could land a mean punch. “The thugs who only learned how to fight on the streets wouldn’t stand a chance.” Though she wasn’t sure how fists versus a gun would pan out but hopefully they would never need to find out.

She shrugged playfully. Ines had a point. She was curious about who these other leads were, but not enough to go full detective mode. She just hoped they were reliable and didn’t have any ulterior motives. “Maybe you have one really good source, I don’t know,” she joked.

She didn’t want to be that person with the white knight syndrome, but knowing intimately how the Kovali operated, she couldn’t prevent some worry about what could potentially happen to Ines. She decided she wouldn’t verbally protest Ines’s insistence that she could handle herself, because that was probably true. To an extent. Her eyebrows then raised in surprise when the brunette expressed her willingness to learn how to use a gun. “Yeah?” she unintentionally spilled out, the surprise evident in her tone. She was not expecting that. “I could do that. It’s not complicated. If you can point and pull a trigger, you’ve got most of it down already.” Of course there was a bit more than that, but she wasn’t about to lay down months worth of Quantico training on her in one sitting. “And you don’t have to shoot to kill, if that’s a concern. Although I’m not sure if that’s a priority you’ll actually have if someone ever comes after you with the intention of killing you,” she said honestly. She was speaking from personal experience.

Her lips pressed together, eyes dropping to her cup at the truthfulness of Ines’s statement. This was quite the mess, Lex couldn’t deny that. There still had to be hope there was an end to this eventually. An end where preferably both of them were alive and it was the Kovali that didn’t survive it. She quietly took another sip in thought. She was pushed out of her own head at Ines’s question. She nearly forgot there was intention to her visit. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Right. I thought you’d be more interested in the details of the raids when Irena Kovali got arrested. I was there when they raided Purgatory, so…” She did a bit more than just be present when it happened, but she was notorious for leaving out details intentionally. She put her cup on the coffee table. “The CPD found a mountain-load of incriminating evidence. Which everyone knows of course because the mayor made a big spectacle of it with her speech. But the evidence is actually pretty solid. Papers about everything. About the Carcones’ murder, the Pier bombing, what happened at the Taste of Chicago… shit that would make it really hard to cut down to a three-year prison sentence.” That was the hope, anyway. No judge in their right mind would give Irena Kovali, or anyone else linked to the crimes in the future, less than a life sentence. Right?

Ines offers an enthused nod that soon delves into some flitting stare as the images of her hands cradling a heavy gun comes to mind. For so long she avoided and even despised weapons of any form, knowing the harm they caused, far outweighing the good. Her father echoes then, how he taught her of the dangers; the severity of his words contrast and clash with the casualness of Al’s.

“Thanks,” Ines starts, absent, then blinks herself back to present, offers a hesitant smile. “Sorry, it’s a lot–” Her throat clicks as she swallows, a worry nested in the hollow there. “I’m not blind– I know I need to defend myself, it’s just…” Her eyes widen as her hand gestures to some unseen mass growing before them. “It’s hard to reconcile, being forced to become someone I’m not.”

Ines feels naked, in her own home and there is a hitch in her breath, a sadness welling in her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just tired,” she mumbles into the tea, smiles soft and clears her throat of the weight. It wasn’t meant to cover up, the exhaustion in her bones does lessen her hold; opens doors for the dread and despondency.

They are so unfamiliar with one another and yet the unknown parts of Al’s past makes being honest less daunting. Somehow, Ines feels comforted to be seen vulnerable by a near stranger, rather than bare her truths to someone closer.

Alp doesn’t push her to take anything else, only nods and sets the bag between them, where she can reach it without too much trouble if she decides to have something later.  In most elevators sitting on the floor would be uninviting at best, but this one seems clean enough to eat from the tile.  Alp wonders who has to scrub them, and how long it must take.

“Always,” he agrees.  “They know what’s up.”  How many times has he wished he could ask Harika for answers?  She hadn’t been that much older than him, and yet she’d had so many answers, always able to see solutions he couldn’t.

Watching Ines’s expressions change, he guesses he can’t expect anything too shocking–or at least anything that could identify who it involved.  “What happens if they say stuff off-record?” he asks.  “Do you have to keep it secret?  Or just not put it in the article?”

He’s not sure if the way she speaks, without mentioning Emir by name, is meant as an evasion or because her work is so well-known she doesn’t need to specify, but if he can get her to talk about it at all he might pick up something useful.  “You heard anything from ’em?”

But he can’t blame her for being cagey when he’s careful too, unable to give out much information even if he’d wanted to.  “Just an investor, gotta drop off some paperwork.  She’s gettin’ older; it’s easier to bring stuff to her office than make her come in.”  But even though her joints have deteriorated, her mind is still sharp–she’ll be wondering where he was.  Checking his phone for the time and then her office’s number, he asks Ines, “You wanna ask ’em to give a message to anyone?”

“If they go off-the-record, I can’t publish it, no.” Ines feels an impish smile tug at the corners of her mouth, her head tilting as she draws out the pause. “I’d say the majority of them forgets to make that distinction, though. The smart ones have lawyers to cover for them.” She releases a sneering laugh, eyes rolling; the lights shimmer in the deep brown there. Her amusement is littered in dislike; for their abundance, undeserved and spoon-fed.

“These pieces are meant to be flattering, though, so I’m… encouraged to look the other way,” she says, grimaces in resignation. Ines has surrendered to her place in the cogwheel, knows her notch in its design was a necessary evil; a means of undoing the structure from within. Feed the beast now and be part of its ruin later on, assuming her own demise doesn’t come first.

Ines pauses, unsure of how much to confide. She was vulnerable, regardless of the growing trust she felt. There and then and every other moment that followed; the hounds were on her trail. “Not the kind of people you cross without consequences,” Ines offers, implying more. Her eyes reveal a dejection she hadn’t intended.

“Yes, I can see how this might interfere.” Roe drawls out, fingers reaching out to grip the edge of Ines’ beaked mask, turning it gentle side to side as if to inspect it. “I am determined to fulfill my promise to you, though, so if we need to, we can trade masks at some point tonight; at least long enough to get you a drink. I do have a bit of experience playing doctor.” He teases, releasing his grip and allowing them to fully enter onto the yacht, not before casting a final look over his shoulder. It’s not Ines’ company he fears. As tenacious and exhausting as the young reporter can be, there’s a spark of fondness quickly growing in regards to her presence.

And yet, there is still a lot to fear. Roe has never been blind to the tragedies of Chicago—he works in a hospital, and sees many of the after-effects of them—but his trust for the city is depleting rapidly. Worse, his confidence in his ability to handle public emergencies has wavered significantly since the festival. The carnage of Taste of Chicago had stolen too many lives and too much of Roe’s peace of mind to give him any type of optimism for how tonight’s event was going to go, but he doesn’t dare speak those fears aloud—lest he be held responsibilities for breathing life into such realities. Instead, he offers a much simpler explanation. “I’m not usually a fan of boats.”

A beaming smile becomes lost in the darkness of her mask; a soft, sunny kind of chuckle warming her chest as Ines lets herself be inspected. Not a side of her that often breaches the surface these days, brought out when she feels safe and in good hands. Somehow a near stranger, who once shouted himself red in the face in her direction, evokes such calm in her. “Playing doctor, huh?” Ines arches an eyebrow, purses her mouth; all goes unseen, though her tone betrays her amusement. “Hey, what you do in your free time is your business.” She bares her palms, then turns her back to Roe to move through the crowd.

The far end of the bar draws her in, the empty barstools and distance from the others. A cornered off part of the room for them, as they waits for the yacht to set out. “I’m glad you came, despite your aversion to– boats,” she says, well aware of how the answer enclosed fears they both carry; unseen scars. “It’ll be fine. Hey, we might even have fun.” A hand comes down on his arm, jostles lightly before it falls. “Think you’ll see anyone you know here tonight?”

It’s a shame she ruined it. One moment where she felt like a girl at a party, and she had to mention a Kovali. Hands pausing as Ines mentions his name in return. Easily hidden as her listening, hearing it for the first time, or remembering vaguely. She isn’t. Shifts to ensure there’s space between the ribbon and Ines’ hair, as she continues to tie. “Men like to think that makes them admirers.” Finishes with a relaxed bow. “All done.”

“Well, I only recognised you because I was staring at your outfit, so let’s hope he doesn’t do the same. Have you been exploring?”

Admirers. Ines makes a jaded sound, an abandoned scoff. A coldness gathers at the base of her spine. The seer of their focus, the men who sought to own a woman, whether through contorted admiration or in the case of Emir; an ever present eye. Watching and controlling, seeking pleasure in her dread. As one means to bury you in fear, the other strips you of your agency. Ines can barely tell them apart any longer.

“You’re a lifesaver.” She feels for the fastened bow on her head with gentle touches as she turns. Ines chooses not to dwell on the man, wherever he may be then; an attempt to sway her own fretting mind. She smoothes down the lapels of her jacket, brushes off some invisible dirt. “A little, mostly I’ve been trying to find my date. We got separated somewhere. And what about you– is this your kind of scene?” Ines draws out the syllable, suspecting what the answer will be.

Roe was learning a lot about Ines.

She’s resourceful. At least that’s the nice way to phrase the fact that he ends up with a text from the woman, despite the fact he’s certain he’s never given her his cell phone number. He’s half certain Nurse Ellen who saw them talking might have passed it along, and he’s not sure if that explanation is reassuring or vexing.

Worse, yet is that Ines, it seems, is a stickler when it comes to promises—even ones that were given without any really weight to them when he was distracted with work responsibilities. He supposes he should have had the insight to be careful about what he said around a reporter. But his thoughtlessness has led to a seemingly innocent cue for Roe to buy her coffee snowballing into attending the Hallowe’en masquerade. When you get down to the specifics, he does suppose a yacht—even one ominously named Charon—does fall under the category of “location of your choice.” He just doesn’t approve of Ines’ choice, which he has made her more than aware of at this point.

“What are the chances that you’ll allow me to buy you that drink before this thing leaves port?”

Her motives for bringing him there were hazy at best; some amalgam of unfinished thoughts. A need to link arms with someone she dared to trust (or someone yet to bare his true colors) and able to hold his own. Selfish, perhaps, but the last time she mingled with these people, Ines was left to cough up smoke remnants for a week. As she smirks at his discontent; Ines feels even more comforted. To know Roe was not to be won over by embellishments or gaudy customs; all hiding a seedier side.

She laughs behind the mask. “You can buy me one, sure, but who knows if I’ll be able to drink it with this thing on.” A clever curve to her words, finger tapping gently on his lapel. “You’re stuck with me for a while, I’m afraid.” Ines expects the yacht to sway on the billowing waters, but the warmth of the inside welcomes them, steady and unmoving. “What are you afraid of?” She exclaims, joyfully, while the list of possibilities stack high; terrifying images cast aside.

Private room @inesolofs

“Hold on. Just one second.” If any Kovali had walked through the door, there would have been a problem. Not only was Ines unmasked, but Azra was holding onto her as she stumbled about. There had been ribbon malfunctions all around it seemed. Azra was attempting to retie the ribbon around her ankle, while the mask was similarly in disarray and settled on the couch beside them. With success, she stood up straight again, letting go of the very helpful arm. “Let me fix your ribbon now. Do you want it back on?” Settling down onto the seat she picked up the mask. “I saw that man earlier, the one from prison. I don’t know if you want him seeing you?” It was easy enough to mention when Ines’ name had been associated with Emir’s arrest, so wasn’t revealing other than to say Azra had been in Chicago at the time. 

One arm was slung around her waist, sinking into the billowy skirt, the other shot up to catch the falling mask. A laughter sounds in the hollowed out mask before it comes off, some blend of frustration and amusement. She turns away from the crowd, focused on Azra. “Yes, thank you,” she says absently, turning to give her access to the clasp at the back. “Emir?” A hint of nerves on the voice, it can’t be helped. “He’s always watching,” she mumbles, weighted breath, “but no, I’d rather stay unseen tonight.” Ines places a warming hand on Azra’s upperback. “By him, at least.” A hidden smile, thankful.

The look on her face was enough to bring a smile to his. If he struck that kind of fear in someone, he was surely doing his job right. Of course there was anger he saw in her eyes and body movements as well. It was clear he had made an impact in her life. After all, she had ruined his life. It almost seemed fair to ruin hers. Emir could not let her get away with what she had done without so much as a scratch. Having her looking over her shoulder, not knowing who was watching her was exactly what he wanted. The people keeping an eye on her were no more than foot soldiers. Although that was what Emir was as well at the moment, he still had some power that spoke very loud. Nobody would dare say no to a command of his. He was still a Kovali no matter what his rank was.

Another smile reaches his lips at her words. Of course he wouldn’t want her to feel safe. She would have been naive to think she could just go on about her life as if she hadn’t written an entire piece that put him behind bars. However, she wasn’t entirely to blame. There was no way she had gotten all of that evidence on her own. She was only a reporter, not a detective. “Oh no, don’t think so highly of yourself. I wouldn’t lower my standards that much to spy on you while you’re changing.” She definitely wasn’t his type and he surely was going to let her know exactly that. Not that it mattered in the slightest. It was just a matter of him not giving her an answer she wanted. It was obvious it was one of the foot soldiers watching her, but neither of them had to admit such a thing.

Emir could not help but laugh. It was amusing, the insult she had come up with. He would have expected better from someone who wrote and reported things for a living. Then again, maybe she was just scraping by every day, just waiting for something to spring up on her so she could give everyone the latest news. “You, my dear, have a very small pedestal to fall from. What have you been up to lately? I think I should be the one asking you if you’re watching me change at night after everything, huh?”

The tendons of her neck spasm as Ines represses the urge to either flee or gouge his near black eyes out. Neither impulse serves her now, and so she stands still under his sanctimonious glare. Amusement and complacency resonate from Emir and it feels acidic, a bile in her throat.

Eyes flicker to her sides, in search for any unseen threats; some snake slinking by when she’s unaware. Cheap jabs go unnoticed as she scans her field of vision, her focus somehow sharpened. Where her senses are normally overwhelmed and unable to regulate, here she can filter out the fodder. Adrenaline. Poor man’s Adderall.

“Why are you asking me?” Ines scoffs, a hatred in her stare. She crosses her arms instinctively, creates barriers in her mind. The only places he cannot reach her, touch her. A shudder runs down her spine.

“Thought you’d have a good idea of what my life consists of by now. Given how up close and personal you’ve gotten.”

Given the predicament she just assisted Ines in escaping, it would be in opposition to allow her to drive Azra to her destination. It might even defeat the purpose of having removed Ines from Kovali line of sight, when they’re bound to hear of her delivering their property to a client. She’s readying to say she’s not heading anywhere, leaving it up to mercy whether she can make it to the appointment on time, when she decides on a different tack. A more active lie. “You don’t need to be troubled. I was just going to pass the time.” Hopefully enough of it before she needs a new excuse or before she has to flee.  “I can do that anywhere really.” Needs to be both vague and specific enough to dissuade further question, a tightrope as always.  “You’re welcome to join me, but you’ll have to be decisive for us.” All that choice for once and she has nothing to offer, so conditioned to being pliant. 

“If you’re just looking to pass the time–” she says, awaits some sign of what to do. A thrum of anger and sadness settles beneath her heart, when casting a thought to the other woman’s fate. How and when she came to be here, in this moment.  These emotions are often at odds with her curiosity, a blend of her empathy and inquisitive nature. In this moment, it somehow flows in unison and offers her the ability to make a decision, and Ines finds it in herself to bring the car into the street, evading any patrols. Lights on low.

“I don’t live far from here,” she offers, as a question wrapped in a statement. Not expecting an answer, though leaving room for her to say no. Ines falters a moment, realizing she shares nearby neighbourhoods with that place. A black hole, yet no one’s the wiser.

“No way,” Alp retorts, hiding a smile, “if I’d known, I would’ve brought way more.  I was supposed to get lunch before my next meetin’.”  The main explanation for all the snacks is simply that he gets hungry; by the time a typical workday starts he’s been up for three or four hours and already put in a workout, and breakfast’s never enough to get him through this many meetings and errands.  “Have some more if you want it.”

He nods as she produces the bottle, but as she goes on and repeats her mom’s saying, he grins.  “Sounds right,” he teases.  “My mom lived by the five-second rule.  Hasn’t killed me yet.”  Harika wasn’t so lucky…but it hadn’t been germs that’d killed her.

He’s kind of surprised when she doesn’t keep pushing for more explanation, but he’s glad of it–it means he doesn’t have to try hiding the truth–and instead he focuses on her answer.  It’s clear she doesn’t care for the assignment, but he still asks, “What’s the most interestin’ thing you’ve learned so far?”

But the vague mention of “other subjects” could be the most interesting of all, and he raises his eyebrows.  “Yeah?  Like what?”

Ines catches herself doubting the apparent kindness. She hasn’t become so accustomed to the seedy parts of people, or come to expect it, necessarily; though a flutter of cynicism lives in her. Ever since– reality came knocking. She offers a genuine nod of thanks, now, holds up her unopened bar. “I’m good, I had an early lunch. Guess we’ll see how long they keep us in here, maybe I’ll come rifling through your stash.”

Ines rests the canteen on the marbled floor. It’s surface seems impossible clean and glinting in the overhead light. She supposes it’s a small blessing, to be sealed in a cage, more or less, in such an opulent place.

“I’ve always thought moms should be trusted.” A lighthearted nod, though she does mean her words.

Ines blows out a breath, racks her mind for an interesting tidbit. She laughs in some tired apathy, scratches the end of an eyebrow. “The real good stuff is what happens when the recording stops, I’ll be honest.” A suggestive grin, soon turns to a headshake; feels jaded as she considers those incumbent in power. “Nothing that’d surprise you, I’m sure, just old white men with impulse control.”

A pause as Ines downs some water, shrugs. “You knew who I was, what I was working on then. It’s not over yet.” She darts her eyes to the side, a crease in her brow. Thinks this time, locked in an elevator, might be more of a reprieve than an obstacle.

What was the dream that turned to ashes for you?

“It’s not ashes yet, it’s a burning house and I can’t find the exit.”

Ines presses a palm to her forehead, breathes out in a gust of pent up anxiety.

“The plan was to make a dent in the Kovali, something– more, more than what we got. Something worth feeling persecuted for.”

When did you cross a line you couldn’t return from?

“There’s been a few times, but I, uh, I don’t have regrets. Nothing has been in vain.” Ines pauses, caught in a frown. Doubt settles in. 

What’s broken you would like to fix?

What is your biggest regret?

“Not seeing the value of my father’s work before it was too late. Yeah, that’s– we lost a lot of time on arguing about it.”

Have you ever endangered someone for self-interest?

Name: A

For her safety.

Ringtone: The Seed – AURORA

Last Text Sent: there’s no one around, you’re good. i’m parked around the corner.