A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words
It had been a very odd couple of days. Pak... well one second she was in tears, then she'd be shouting at her fish, the only other living thing in her apartment, and then she'd be practically skipping. Through out it all thought, the pictures he'd given her remained where she could see them.
It was hard to come to any hard and fast decision about how she felt about all of this. About him. Feeling like she wanted to keep this at least semi-private, she'd been working from home and hadn't left her rooms in a day or two. At least she hadn't gone incommunicado as she had when he'd rediscovered her.
Finally, she decided Bao was right, she couldn't keep this to herself. She wanted to talk to Kem, he was the only person she could think of who would have any idea who she might be feeling. But, she knew how busy he was and hesitated to just send to him. She tried to be considerate of his workload. Not that she didn't love 'Kem the clan leader', some days though, some times she missed 'just Kem'.
She sent an email. Nothing fancy, just a 'Hey when you have some time come up to my place. I want to talk. Yeah, its about him, sort of.' No sense not having Kem come prepared.
Upon reaching Pak's floor Kem glanced down the hall, as he always did, at the door of the apartment Aishe had occupied before moving in with him. it didn't evoke much feeling really; the area had been so bland and so unlike her. He did consider again the idea of furnishing it, knowing it was still empty, so they might have someplace to stay when he was still at Meridian, something that was happening more and more frequently. He held out though. It was important to him to have his own house, off of the Clan property, away from everything.
He knocked lightly upon Pak's door and opened it right after. He wasn't about to stand on ceremony when she'd asked him up; she had already unlocked it for him. Kem entered and remembered to remove his shoes, placing them neatly against the wall before venturing further into Pak's apartment to find her.
Not bothering to call out for Pak he simply sent. It was the method of communication he preferred with those who were familiar enough with him to not be bothered by it.
[Someone order a pizza?]
The door was only open because she was expecting him. That and he'd proved once before locking it didn't keep him out. Other than that Pak was relatively cautious and realistic about the fact that they lived in a big city and you kept doors locked.
She'd been at her desk working but immediately set about powering down when she heard him.
[ Damned it! No. It was supposed to be moo goo gai pan. Did they screw up again?]
Satisfied they wouldn't be disturbed she silently padded out to see him. It was funny how much Kem had changed since they'd first met. Before she'd never have gotten him up the elevator at all. Now, he was... well in general less likely to run from his own issues. Which, in turn made him a better person to run too. He would have been if he hadn't been so damned busy, Pak felt guilty about taking up his time. But that, she realized, was her own issue, not his. She wasn't even sure where that issue came from, but there it was. At least he was here tonight.
She had an odd urge to hug him, what Bao had dropped on her had left Pak craving some kind of touch, physical reassurance. But it was out of character for her and she knew it, so she held back.
"You know I might have to see if I can move a few floors up. I wonder if I could get the penthouse."Â?
Alfarinn sure wasn't using it.
Her home was Kem's home. Pak figured he knew this and didn't bother to ask him to sit down.
"Eat? Drink? Tea? Water? Wine? I think I have some raspberry Kool-Aid..."Â?
Banter with Pak was a normal occurrence. Something was on her mind, or she wouldn't have asked him to come in such a... well, plaintive tone of email. She would get to it in her own time though. He wasn't going to push her on the topic of her creator. He knew she'd been seeing him and so far she'd seemed to be holding up well. No road was without its potholes however, and maybe they'd finally hit one of those.
He couldn't hide a slight wince at her reminder of the empty penthouse, although not for the reason she probably suspected. The empty apartment was a reminder, something he hadn't actually discussed with anyone although he suspected Aishe wouldn't be surprised, that no matter what he did he was still a poor placeholder for the person who should really be heading up their Clan. He let Pak think it was the height though; it was a trivial matter anyway. No amount of hoping would fill the damn penthouse.
"I can do you one better," he said, heading into Pak's poorly-stocked kitchen. He'd shown her long ago how he made coffee and he knew she had the supplies to do so although he wasn't sure she ever actually did. Rummaging around in her kitchen for a few minutes he found what he needed and set everything up, more than willing to keep the conversation light while he played with the coffee.
Didn't matter what they put on it, Pak had never developed a taste for it. About ½ of her department seemed to be able to live on the stuff though. Hey it was a cheap was to get them to be less hostile if they had to pull an all nighter, so she just went with it.
Oh, coffee. That perked Pak right up and she cheerfully perched on one of her bar stools to watch Kem putter about her kitchen. She mentally pulled open the appropriate cabinets lazily directing Kem to coffee, mugs, spoons and other coffee making supplies while not getting under foot.
Taking a look around the rooms she realized they were boring and impersonal, like she expected to move at any time. Maybe she should move. There was two bedroom available on this floor, she could have a proper office.
"I'm thinking about redecorating. What do you think?"Â?
She she get to the point once they both had coffee and were settled. It was a tricky topic, she didn't quite know how to go about leading into it. So... slow and steady and trivial were the order of the day.
The process of making coffee was enjoyable; Kem liked the simple step-by-step process of setting up the proper filter, arranging the grounds, shaving the vanilla in just the right amount, and getting the water to the proper temperature. There was a lot of history behind the actions, centuries of habit making the tasks simple as his practiced hands completed them one by one.
He turned to Pak to raise an eyebrow at her and then glanced around. "Redecorating how?"
Pak worked her way onto troublesome topics in a roundabout manner sometimes. Every once in a while it was difficult to tell if she was doing that, or still making small talk. Either way he didn't see too much to redecorate. Pak's apartment looked like "Pak" to him, in color and design.
"Getting bored with your surroundings?"
Pak rolled her eyes at him. Watching him play with the coffee was sort of relaxing.
"I'm not sure. I guess it just seems sort of plain, and maybe too work oriented."Â?
That desk did seem to dominate the room some days. Maybe if she could move that into a room of its own she could... oh who was she kidding. She didn't go 24/7 but she was a workaholic.
Hmmmm... maybe she should at least put away the cat stuff. Pak just shrugged to herself as she smelled the coffee. It should be ready soon from the smell of it.
"Don't you two ever get tired of everything in the same place?"Â?
He lifted his shoulders noncommittally. "Plain maybe, work-oriented, I dunno." He shook his head helplessly. "I'm better known for preserving important documents and dating pieces of Egyptian pottery... interior decorating has very little to do with it."
Bending slightly to inhale the aroma of the coffee as it dripped, he smiled with satisfaction. It was good. "I've never asked her," he answered Pak's next question. "Maybe it's a guy thing, but I've always just put my stuff where it looked like it should go, and that was that."
Since Aishe had moved in however, the items displayed on their shelves and counters had changed sightly. Nothing had been removed, but there were small additions here and there, things that were specifically "Aishe" as well as things that belonged to both of them, reminders and mementos of the things they'd done together over the last few years.
He shrugged at Pak again. "If you want to change it up, then do it," he said. pouring the coffee into two mugs he handed one to Pak and seated himself on the other bar stool at the counter.
"What were you thinking? Maybe a vampire roller derby theme?"
She snorted over the rim of her coffee cup at Kem's suggestion.
"I think the disco ball required to do justice to that theme might be a bit over the top in this space. And I'm sure my down stairs neighbors would have issues with the skating. Maybe if I ever buy a house you can help me with that."Â?
Pak did own real estate in all sorts of places, but it was all investment properties. Thank god they were long term investments.
She sipped at her coffee for a second, half looking at Kem. Trying to figure out how to say anything. Finally she just slid the small leather case to him.
"I was thinking of maybe decorating around that."Â?
This picture was of her children as adults. Both in traditional formal dress, very rich, very elaborate. Kem wouldn't recognize her son, but he'd be hard pressed not to recognize the young woman as her daughter.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and interest as Pak slid something along the counter to him. It was a small leather folder-style case. He glanced at her and then wiped his hand on a napkin before opening it slowly. Inside were two daguerreotypes, of a young man and a young woman. He recognized the outfits, and then, as he looked closer, recognized the face of the woman. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two. For a moment he thought he was looking at Pak, perhaps, and - her husband? And then it clicked, that the woman's eyes, while pretty, weren't Pak's light blue. They were very dark.
His eyes widened slightly. "Your kids?"
It was a shock to see. He and Pak shared a similar history when it came to children. He knew that previously, she hadn't known what had happened to hers, any more than he did. Like him, she'd had a son and a daughter. Apparently they had grown to adulthood. A smile spread across his face at the realization, and he felt happiness for Pak - he wasn't sure how she felt, exactly, but it must be a good feeling, to know her children had lived through what had to be a terrible time in their lives.
"How did you find out," he began, and then cut himself off when he remembered the text of her email. "Oh. Him?"
Watching the emotions chase across his face was a toned down version of her own. She wasn't quite ready to address things full on and instead just nodded, pointing them both out.
"Kalhan."Â? She said touching the image of her son. "And Lawan."Â?
She touched the image of her daughter and threatened to tear up again. She'd had days to get a handle on that emotion though and shoved it back down, buried it and concentrated on Kem's coffee instead. No lines, no yuppies, no perky baristas, just good coffee and you didn't have to take out a mortgage to buy it.
For a moment she was hesitant to dump this on Kem, perhaps she should have. Not with his history. He'd lost his children, his family same as she had. More than that, she knew his children hadn't had such an easy time of it. His daughter had been turned by the same vampire that had turned him, she was here, in town and Pak knew it. That, however, was a conversation for another time, for when Mara felt it was appropriate. She just hoped Kem would forgive her when the time came.
Taking another swallow, she let the coffee burn her tongue and the roof of her mouth before continuing.
"I finally asked him about them a couple of nights ago. When he found out my husband had chased me off and he'd lost me he... he killed Suanan. I'm not sure how I feel about that. But he took the children in, saw them raised, educated, and married. He gave them a better life than I ever could have."Â?
She frowned at the counter feeling slightly guilty about all of this. She should be happy that they had such good lives and had done so well rather than... than however she did feel.
He reached an arm around Pak's shoulders and leaned close, hugging her to him, careful not to jostle her mug.
"It's okay to still be angry," he said, guessing at the source of her frown. "Sure, he did a reasonably decent thing after having made a complete mess of your life. That doesn't mean you have to drown yourself in gratitude."
Kem tried to put himself in Pak's shoes. He had assured himself over time that his sister would have taken his children in. He knew she would have. With no husband to abuse her any longer, she would have been free to do as she pleased and she would have given Amaret and Mahematen the same upbringing as her own child. He had long ago reconciled himself to the fact that he would never know their fates, but surely they had grown, lived, and died like any other humans. Their parents would have faded into memory. Life went on, after all.
But if he'd had Pak's experience? He could only imagine how angry he might be. Even now he occasionally wondered why he'd been turned to begin with. Was there a reason? Was it just chance? Who knew? It didn't keep him up in the mornings anymore.
"They were your children to raise," he said sympathetically, still considering what Pak must be thinking. "You should have been there for them, raising them, sharing their experiences. He took it from you. You don't have to like him, but at least they had decent lives."
Thank god for Kem, really. He was very much a big brother, he was able to understand a lot without being told.
"I don't know. Maybe I should fall all over myself though. Even if I'd lived, they wouldn't have had the lives he gave them. Maybe it is even better this way, they got to be more than farmers."Â?
Pak had, like most parents, wanted so much more for her children. To give them a chance to grow and learn but with limited means she and her husband never could do that. Both of them would have been married off after a few years, been tied to the land, worn themselves out.
"What right do I have to be that selfish though? Sure I would have liked to have seen my grandchildren but they had a better life."Â?
Still frowning she sighed and looked at the picture again.
"And damned it I'm jealous. He got to know them better than I ever did. They were still so young when I left. I think the worst thing is that I don't hate him for this. I probably should but I don't. It is almost like he took care of them because he... I don't know... maybe it was his way of apologizing."Â?
That thought made Pak uncomfortable. Perhaps, instead of sobbing like an idiot that night she should have asked him -why- he'd done it.
"It's okay to feel what you feel," he reiterated. "At the end of the day it doesn't change anything. You still had the experience you had, and they still had theirs. I don't know what I would do though, how I'd react, if I met the person who was responsible for doing this to me. So it's hypocritical for me to say you should put the past behind you."
Kem gave Pak a wry smile, knowing he was the last person who ever put the past behind him. The smile faded very quickly, leaving a dark expression on his face which he dismissed with a small shake of his head. It was unlikely he'd ever be in Pak's position so it was all speculation.
"Do you want to keep getting to know him?"
He still maintained that she could walk away any time. Pak had faced her fear, had handled it, and gone above and beyond what she'd initially planned to do. There was no shame in turning her back and going on with her life as she had before. Without him in it.
"And if I shoved him out into the noon day sun in the middle of Death Valley, would that be OK too?"Â?
Which, she'd considered. Pak thought, maybe, just maybe Kem would be OK with that too. Maybe a bit cross with the resulting politics but he'd probably support her.
She stood and took her coffee to the couch. Great, more guilt. She knew Amir and she didn't hate him. That made Pak feel dirty and cheap, she probably didn't deserve Kem. Oh, she hated what Amir had done to Kem, hated the fact that any one would treat him like that and how it had hurt his family. But she didn't hate Amir as a person. She hoped he never found out... about any of it but especially that she knew.
Curled up in the corner of her sofa, where he'd found her after her freak out, both hands wrapped around her mug and feet tucked under her she shrugged.
"I don't know. I found out what I wanted to. I didn't want anything else. He had grand plans for welcoming me home as a prodigal son... daughter... whatever."Â?
She shrugged again, feeling a little bit small, lost and alone. None of this made sense. At least, she couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was all tied together. Kem and his maker, she and hers, his daughter and her children, it was more than Pak had been or was right at that moment prepared to handle.
"Maybe I owe him something..."Â?
"I guess if you really wanted to, but I don't think I have to worry. That isn't you at all."
That was more like something he'd have done when he was younger. Life hadn't been all kindness and tolerance where his history was concerned. It had taken hundreds of years to unburden himself from the huge chip that had been on his shoulder and during that time he'd done some things he still regretted.
"He wanted to... welcome you home?" Kem didn't quite understand Pak's choice of words but it was clear that her creator was, for all appearances, trying to mend bridges between them.
He shook his head. "You don't owe him anything," he said grimly. "He took without asking, and gave you nothing in return. Caring for your family was the least he could do... and I'm not even sure that can compensate."
If Pak was looking for someone with a tempered opinion, he wasn't the one she needed to talk to. He was trying to see things rationally but truth be told, thinking of himself in that position stirred something deep within him he'd though buried. It seethed and screamed and he had to breathe deeply so as not to frighten Pak with his vehemence.
Looking around, Kem noticed a few new things in Pak's apartment that hadn't caught his eye when he'd walked in before. Maybe it was all the talk of interior decorating, but...
"Pak? Did you get a cat?"
Pak nodded in response to Kem's question.
"Yeah, he wanted me to come be part of Anantya... hell maybe he still wants me to. I don't know we didn't go into details."Â?
Kem's tone and response was odd to say the least. Pak hadn't really heard any thing like that from him. It worried her and she matched his grim expression with a very concerned one of her own.
No, something was off here. Pak's desire for some one to talk to, for another opinion, skewed or not (and she knew Kem's opinion would be bias, how could it not be?) warred with her need to protect and help Kem. Kem easily won and she just clammed up. She'd let it fester and/or sort it out on her own.
Cat? Oh, crap she still hadn't put that stuff away. She really was half meaning to get a cat, she just hadn't gotten around to it yet.
"No... well sort of but not really. There had been this stray down in the garage, but she didn't really like it here. So, I let her go. I just haven't gotten around to cleaning up yet."Â?
She tried to ignore the topic of owing the guy something, which he normally wouldn't press but in this case he thought maybe they weren't done there. Uncharacteristically persistent, he brought it up again. "I'm sorry," he said in reference to his own intensity. "The topic is close to home. You know that. Don't talk yourself into excusing him." He looked at Pak over his coffee mug. "Forgiveness, sure. Acceptance, okay. But don't excuse it."
It sounded too much to him like Pak was beginning to sway herself with her own second-guessing. Granted, there were a lot of his own experiences coloring his advice now, but their histories were so similar in this regard. Be that as it may, Kem wasn't sure he could ever get to where Pak was now; speaking to her creator, trying to understand him. Would he feel the same way in her shoes? who knew. It was academic.
"We live with the repercussions of our actions, all of our lives," he reminded her. "When your life spans centuries, you had best be committed to whatever it is you do. We don't get second chances any more than humans do."
Of course, if Pak was willing to give Bao that second chance, that was her prerogative. But in Kem's opinion she should bear in mind that he had done hat he did willingly... no one had forced him to turn her.
Pak said with a small wry smile to Kem's monosyllabic response. She wasn't even remotely tempted by the idea. Evenhet had given her a home after she'd wandered lost and alone for -years-.
She shook her head, he shouldn't be sorry. Hell she was sorry he was perusing the topic at all.
Did she want to forgive him? It was a gray area. What he'd done had been evil, terrible and and destroyed her. Sure it had turned out well, in the end, but not with out pain, effort and luck. And there was no guarantee he'd not do something similar again. Hell he'd killed that girl out in Silicon Valley.
Cliche or not, a leopard didn't change its spots. Not over night. She could move forward with this relationship, but a completely fresh start was out of the question. It was going to be a fine line between moving forward and not forgetting but it could be done.
She nodded slowly.
"The whole two wrongs don't make a right thing... or is it more like one good doesn't undo the bad... I'm out of cliches."Â?
He nodded with a fleeting smile over Pak's cliches. "Something like that," he agreed. "No matter what the reason or the outcome, he took something without being given permission. It's a violation."
It was like rape; that was the closest metaphor he could come to. But Kem wasn't going to dredge up that topic and throw it in Pak's face. She'd done what she had to do long ago but he didn't doubt that that was how she'd felt at the time. These issues always hit him close to home, though. Maybe this was why he was such a picky feeder... having had it done to him once, he couldn't countenance doing the same to someone else. Even the idea of turning someone was repulsive to him; hell, look at what Aishe had gone through, all because she knew how he'd feel about it. In retrospect, he still wondered, several years after the fact, if he could have and should have been the one to turn her, but even the contemplation of it gave him chills.
"You just don't take that from someone," he said, voicing his thoughts out loud and giving Pak a little shrug. "Even if they ask you to, in some cases."
That, however, didn't matter. She couldn't have him storming off or doing something rash. Too many people needed him.
"You're right. Point taken I was having a Stockholm Syndrome moment. It wouldn't have taken much for him to turn me into one of the collective, but I'm not going to let that happen."Â?
This relationship of theirs was going to have to be on her terms. That didn't mean she was going to whole her turning over his head or plot his ultimate demise though. It just meant she was going to have to be a lot more aware.
Finishing her coffee Pak set the mug down, pulled her knees up under her chin, and just thought, well maybe brooded, over everything he'd told her about her children. It hurt, it still physically hurt that she hadn't been there for them. Ultimately it was even her fault they didn't even have their father. She should have stood up to her husband, should have fought harder for them. But she hadn't. She'd been a coward and run.
Her voice was very low, very small, hell Pak hadn't realized she said anything.
"I miss them."Â?
Pak had been alone a majority of her life, sometimes the only company she had were the voices of her children. To know they'd grown up without her, Pak was afraid she might even lose her voices. This mess with Bao, with her children and even keeping things from Kem, Pak was starting to think she might be alone again.