babydoll

WHEN & WHERE: brunch at valentine residence; september 4th, 2004 WHO: zia ( @ziadewans ) 

will was beyond thrilled to visit damien’s family and get together with the exemplars after the last couple of months – however, he’d been having a great time back in d.c. the house-hunting had been fun, and even unpacking had gone by a breeze; moving had been nowhere near as stressful as it was made out to be. he attributed the entirety of it to zia’s company. while their home was still getting put together and being broken out, he could already picture years of wonderful times and memories to come. 

   “i’ve looking at their grill for a while – what would you say about getting one for the new house?” will asked zia, as he had indeed admittedly been looking at cole valentine cook away for a while. the man’s ease with cooking astounded will– “we could use it to for some nice cooking during the summer.”

“A grill sounds great, Will...maybe we could go all out and get some outdoor patio furniture too,” Zia replies with a grin. “I really think we could make a great entertaining space out of that backyard,” she smiles, her mind already going through a million different possibilities. More than anything, she loved having a space they could call their own-- the house was already full of personal touches but a nice backyard seemed like it would be the perfect final touch. 

“Why don’t we make an Ikea trip when we get back?” she suggests, “I’ll bet we can find you a grill and do a little furniture browsing along the way...I can even pick up some new drapes for the guest bedroom...”

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” – A.A. Milne

[ open ]

It almost seems strange, being truly back in civilization. Tango has spent months in wilderness, lost, and then more months trying to find his way home. But as much as he liked the forest, with the small animals and the big animals and the waterfalls and the freedom, he is happy to be back in the city. It’s the only home he’s ever known.

The team is the only home he’s ever known.

Some of them, he’s seen already. Beth, obviously. Damien. But he doesn’t think the others have been informed. Maybe they wanted to keep it as a surprise, when Tango comes to the barbecue party? Tango likes surprises too, so he will do his best to oblige.

“SUR–PRISE,” he roars, running full-tilt at the first person he sees at the party. He hopes they recognize him – he’s been told he’s gone a bit more grey, which might be very confusing for them! “TANGO BACK. HAHA.”

It’s been a strange last few months, coping with the loss, the change, alll the upheaval, but brunch at Damien’s had become a figure of normalcy in her life. Zia had begun to make the rounds saying ‘hello’ to her former teammates, when an all-too-familiar figure catches her attention.

“Tango!” she exclaims completely surprised, pulling him into a tight hug. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him, but it’s a more than welcome surprise, nonetheless. “I can’t believe it...it’s so good to see you...I’ve missed you so much!”

will took a sip of champagne, ceasing to look at the crowd and turning to zia instead. every now and then, he’d swiftly gaze over her shoulder. still, no faces had struck him as seeming somewhat familiar, despite scanning the room god-knows-how-many times. 

   “you’re right,” he smiled genuinely, internally laughing to himself– “i think the closest we came was that time we stopped kraken from crushing that one small restaurant and the owner gave us free food as a thank you.” for a moment, he couldn’t help but feel slightly nostalgic when thinking of past missions.

   “i’m sure we’re not. everyone seems on edge, which makes me think we haven’t missed anything big,” will assured, lifting the flute up to his mouth again. “i’m… okay too. i wouldn’t have imagined we’d end up here. but all that aside, no. it looks like your average gala in that sense. what about you?”

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing like defeating a giant squid that gets you in the mood for seafood,” Zia laughs recalling the mission. Somehow those times felt so much simpler, so much less complicated, and yet, there’s a part of her that can’t help but wonder if she’s only come to see the past through rose-colored glasses. 

Sipping from the glass, Zia nods in agreement, “I know...it’s crazy how everything ended up-- I just can’t shake the feeling that something is off...these people somehow seem more frigid than the usual gala crowd...”

The conversation is surprisingly pleasant. But Beth knows that one word out of place and they’d both spiral back into their habits. “Well, at least it’s a glitzy party,” she said, halfway joking, “We could be a in a total dive but instead we get a ice palace.” 

She looked at Zia, staring at the woman who’d never seemed to value her opinion before, “You don’t need them. And they aren’t worth the risk of being torn out if we get into a fight.” 

“Well, we’ve certainly been in worse places than an ice palace,” Zia chuckles, with a slight smile forming on her lips, “And warmer...” she adds only partly joking, having no true love for the cold.

“You’re right,” Zia agrees, surprised by the lack of vitriol between them as she removes the earrings, taken aback by the geniality of Beth’s advice. “I have a feeling that a missing earlobe would probably go over pretty poorly with the bureau...”

“BURGER,” Tango answers promptly, because that’s always his answer when asked what kind of food he wants. As far as he’s aware, burgers are the single greatest human achievement. They have everything. Meat. Cheese. Bread. Cardboard packaging. 

He doesn’t know if a fancy party like this will be serving burgers, but it’s worth a try, right?

“BUT. OR DOVER… GOOD ALSO,” he assures, because he can’t quite wrap his jaws around hors d’oeuvres. Will Zia be able to fit the food into her bag? He hopes so. He also hopes nobody catches her stealing. “JUST LISTEN… FOR TANGO. ROAR. SIGNAL OF… PORTAL. IF TANGO FIND.”

A light chuckle falls from Zia’s lips as Tango makes known of his food desires. “I will certainly keep an eye out for any burgers, but I’m afraid I can’t make any assurances on that front,” Zia replies, “But I’m sure they’ll have some combination of meat and bread floating around,” she promises, reasonably impressed with Tango’s pronunciation of hors d’oeuvres.

"I’ll keep my ears perked,” Zia nods, “But please be safe out there, Tango..." she adds, stroking her fingers against Tango’s fur, worriedly, “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” 

suddenly he felt 20-something again, trying to blend into a crowd of people who were surely more eager to see him choke under the heel of their boot. will tried distracting himself by looking around, trying to spot faces that seemed even remotely familiar. 

   “thank you,” will said, the weight to his words and the light in his eyes showing how genuinely thankful he was. his hands curled around the champagne flute comfortably, with the same ease they’d hold onto the whip. the glass was raised and tilted gently, and the brunet took a sip. 

   “you’re a genius,” he added, referring to her idea. “funny how drinking on the job is actually useful this time around. how have you been?”

Zia follows Will’s lead, scanning the crowd carefully for any signs of a familiar face. Their effort seemed futile given the sheer number of people that surrounded them, but Zia was hopeful that between the two of them, they might catch a lucky break. It felt good to be working with Will again-- there was a certain ease and comfort she had found with him that she was in no hurry to let go of.

“What’s can I say? I guess we were long overdue mission for a mission with some perks,” Zia chuckles warmly, "But I’m okay...all of this is just so strange...I just hope we’re not too late...”

Zia looks around, doing her best to analyze the behavior of the other guests, determining how best to fit it with her surroundings. When a waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, she swipes two glasses, noting that everyone around them seemed to already be drinking or eating something at the moment. 

“Here, take this...” Zia says handing her teammate one of the flutes, “Hopefully we’ll blend in a little easier, now that we’re not the only ones without a drink in our hands...”

Beth hardly looks at Zia. It’s almost as if Zia isn’t really there. It could be anybody talking to Beth, a disembodied voice that utters questions and statements that only half-reach Beth’s ears. “I’ve never been to either,” her voice is hoarse, raw from crying. It’s s simple statement but is draws into stark contrast the two lives the women have led. Zia, a woman of experience and Beth, a woman of naivety. 

Zia is, of course, poised and posed perfectly. She looks serene, almost statuesque. While Beth is stuffed in an oversized black coat and gray scarf that bunches up at her neck. she looks like a child lost in a shopping mall, crying for their mother. She sniffles and “Mmms” softly at Zia’s response to her question before going stunningly silent. 

Then she cracks, her voice a whining plea, “How? How can the show go on? Eve is dead. Surely, shows must stop for something. One of the players dying must be a damn good reason to at least… put things on hold!” her anger is directed forward, not towards Zia, who stands at her side. As her voice tremors and fluctuates in volume it is almost as if she is screaming at the sky. 

“I promise you’re not missing out on much,” she replies sincerely. If Zia thought this whole funeral was an overproduced mess, then she can’t begin to imagine what a Bureau-produced wedding would look like. If it were up to Zia she would avoid attending either at all costs. Certain things were sacred, meant to be personal and meaningful and not solely for money and show. 

If Eve’s death had taught Zia anything, it was that nothing was meaningful to them. Nothing was sacred. 

“That’s the problem, we’re not players to them...we’re not even really people,” Zia replies, swallowing hard, attempting to stop the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of her eyes, “We’re just props, pieces for them to move around in a much larger game,” Zia adds, as her feelings of helplessness mount. 

“YES. PLEASE.”

Zia’s not the only one feeling like they need some fresh air. Today has been strange and full of new things and somber moods. Everybody is dressed in black, and even Tango has on a little mourning cape, tied around his neck. All of the discussion is revolving around death and memorials and it’s all just… very confusing.

Tango misses Evelynn.

He lopes over to Zia, wondering if taking a walk is appropriate. There are so many rules today. Don’t talk too loud, don’t move during the speeches. “GO… WHERE? FOR AIR?”

Zia’s tense shoulders release in relief as Tango expresses similar interest in getting some fresh air. With Tango by her side she felt more confident walking out the building but is also glad for the company. For all the grief she felt, Zia was at least glad she wasn’t facing this tragedy alone.

She had a team. 

“Uh, how about a couple rounds around the block?” she suggests as they make their way out of the waiting room together and towards the elevator, “That way if we’re needed back for the meeting we’re easy to find and can get back quickly...”

Beth was too sad to feel any other emotion. Normally the sight of Zia, perfect, as always, would spark some jealousy in her heart. But she was weighed down by grief and it distracted her. She did not have the capacity for petty rivalry at the moment. “I’m…I’m going to be fine,” she says, staring ahead with her hands in her pockets. She was glad to not have to be the first one to speak, “It is taking longer than I expected. Maybe their just trying to get it right. How are you doing?” 

Zia looks at Beth, almost surprised. It’s certainly not the answer, much less the reaction she expected from the other woman. There’s a part of Zia that wants to ask which alien has replaced Beth, which is frankly, quite well within the realm of possibilities, but there’s the other part of her that knows how all-consuming grief can be. “In my experience, weddings and funerals...” Zia muses, “are the two events you can always count on to never start on time. I’ve tried not to make a habit out of attending the latter, but I guess some things are just beyond our control.”

It’s a hard pill for her to swallow. The perfectionist within her feels so helpless and hopeless. Zia looks around to the black-clad crowd and she’s immediately taken back to her own mother’s funeral. Her mother’s funeral hadn’t nearly been the affair that this was; it lacked all of the camera flashes and other theatrics the Bureau had unsurprisingly managed to produce, and yet the mournfulness was the same. 

Her heart is throbbing painfully within her chest, but she forces a tight-lipped smile against her lips, “Honestly, Beth, I really don’t know how I’m doing...” she admits, swallowing hard, to quell the prick at the back of her throat, “But the show must go on, right?”

She’s not exactly sure who she’s trying to convince, but she’s pretty certain, it’s far more for herself than anyone else. There can’t be cracks in her armor today, not right now. If she dwelled on her grief for too long something was going to shatter within her and she couldn’t allow that, not when she had a job to do. Not when she had her own mission today. 

As the service had come to a close, the team had been faced with a new challenge-- the waiting game. Moira had promised them a meeting and answers but Zia despised the uncertainty of it all. She needed a distraction, she needed to get out of the room. Looking around, Zia’s eyes fall on Tango and an idea forms in her head. 

“Hey, Tango, do you want to go for a walk with me?” she calls out, hoping that if she takes Tango with her, no one will try and oppose her suggestion, “I think we could both use some fresh air.”

Zia had never been particularly fond of Addy, but now looking at the other woman, she can’t help but wonder why she was here. Yes, Addy was of course a part of the team, but with Eve gone and Moira’s meeting approaching quickly, she can’t help but wonder what a more streamlined, future iteration of the Exemplars might look like. 

If Zia was being honest, she had been avoiding Beth for most of the morning but now they’re sitting beside one another, waiting for the ceremony to start, she feels as though their interaction has become unavoidable. “How are you doing, Beth?” Zia finally asks, as if biting a metaphorical bullet, “I feel like we’ve been waiting for this ceremony to start for ages...”

After spending nearly two hours being primped and primed to camera-ready perfection, Zia had decided she had had enough, slipping out of the Exemplar’s trailer and away from the hairdresser who seemed to insist on attacking her with more hairspray by the second. “Did they send you to fetch me back for another round touch ups?” Zia asks with a heavy sigh, as she sees Damien approach her, “I mean I’m used to the overproduction, but is nothing sacred to them?”