[Fiction] Comfort Me

[Ghostwriter]

She huddles amongst the books, feathers slicked and her head buried in her hands. She sobs, rocking backwards and forwards as her hair falls about her shoulders in a greasy tangle. Because of the good natural lighting of the warehouse/library, the bruises and ligature marks on her skin are easily seen, and her general demeanour is that of one who has been beaten down and stripped of pride.

IshouldhavediedIshouldhavediedIshouldhavedied, she thinks, her thoughts in a tumble. I'mafailureI'mafailureI'mafailure...

[Singularity]

Franklin lets the back door quietly latch behind him, taking extra care to compensate for his reduced reflexes. He gives his brown hair a bit of a tussle as he removes the hat and tinted glasses, just enough to remind him of what it used to feel like; the media wouldn't notice just another baseline walking around the area.

He glances around the large warehouse, taking it in for the first time. Pity he wasn't coming here under better circumstances. He strides forward, his body subtly shifting, contained energy slowly being released as he returns to his natural state.

He rounds a stack of books, the jumble of Regan's mind leading him to her. He stops, seeing what's happened to her, especially the small wounds on her skin. He pushes aside the rage, there will be time enough later to deal with that; she needs his comfort, more than ever.

Franklin slowly crouches down next to her, gently touching her shoulder as to not startle her. *No, you shouldn't have, and you're not a failue,* he gently and soothling says through the link, *I came as soon as I saw the conference. I'm here for you, love, I'm here.*

[Ghostwriter]

*I'm a fucking failure!* Regan screams psychically. *Jesus, I had to be tied down and sedated before I hurt someone! Tell me that isn't being a failure!*

She looks up at Franklin with tears in her eyes. "Oh my god..." she whispers aloud. "What - your hair - "

[Singularity]

Franklin easily sets himself down in a cross-legged position before Regan, holding up a hand while shaking his head, *Don't worry about it for now, I'll tell you later. And being tied down is not being a failure, love, not on your part. The failure is the paraphysicans' for treating you like they did. You didn't do anything wrong and you didn't fail. Believe me, love, you've been doing the right thing and successfully.*

He blushes for a beat, *And, uh, sorry about yesterday... If anyone should take immediate blame, it's me.*

[Ghostwriter]

What happened to you out there?* Regan asks, snapping out of her immediate depression. *I went into a meltdown, and that was just from what you were going through! And your hair's tied in - Blessed Goddess, you were pushed to the edge and it backlashed, didn't it?*

[Singularity]

*After a fashion,* Franklin replies with a sigh, looking down and to the side, *You know my opinion of the Project the last two months, the crap with Char and the others, and I've been worried about you most of all... well, it was weighing on my mind rather heavily when I was watching a routine convoy. We came across a skirmish between eight elites. Eight elites that want me dead or permanently crippled and our backup took forever to get there. I'm good, love, but no one can hold out against that many people forever without resorting to lethal force. So while I was piled on and being pounded from every angle, that slime Reverb decided to add numerous insults to injury, including a few choice things about what they were going to do to you... The threat of my life and yours crystalized something in me and I exploded. I haven't been angry like that in a long time and I bit off Mendoza's head after he calmed me down. I can feel it in me, there's more juice surging in me than before, but I guess it's leaking through my head.* He stops, looking at his hand and then pulling back his sleeve in surprise, *But it looks like the rest of my hair is gone. Great, I'm one step from that jackass Pax.*

He looks back to Regan with contrition clouding his face, *I'm sorry to do that to you Regan, I'm so sorry... all I could think of was you and what I was risking, what I was going to miss out on...*

[Ghostwriter]

*Oh God...* Regan bursts into tears again. *I don't deserve you, Franklin. How can I ever repay the love and devotion you've given me?*

She turns and buries her face in his shoulder. *God, I ruined your chance for redemption... What are we going to do?*

[Singularity]

Franklin scoots himself next to Regan, putting one arm across her shoulders, *You have nothing to repay, or at least no more than I owe you. And you didn't ruin my only chance for redemption. Utopia isn't accomplishing what I want, they're only reacting. And any group that finds it acceptable to do that to you can't save me.*

*As for now... I've got a few places to go and enough money that we don't need to work if we don't want to. We can take a vacation, have some real time to enjoy each other's presence, figure out our stuff without someone looming over our shoulders. My first month away from DeVries was rather quiet, I spent a lot of time thinking, but it was very lonely. I've got my own transportation enroute to here, I can make sure you can get anywhere once they're here.*

[Ghostwriter]

*Vacation...* Regan sighs. *I want to get away from everything. I can imagine that bastard Charr laughing himself sick over all of this.*

She snuggles closer to Franklin. *I'm lost without you, Franklin. You brought me back from the shadows after Julie's death and you remind me that there's someone who cares for me just because I'm me. I love you so much, I can't put it into words...*

[Singularity]

Franklin pushes back Regan's hair with his free hand, making sure she's nestled firmly next to him, *Definitely vacation... we'll can go somewhere nice and away from everyone. And I love you too, Regan. You've made me whole and... well, neither of us have the words. But we can share it over this.*

[Ghostwriter]

Regan unsheathes the claws of her right hand and rakes them through Franklin's silver hair, trying to give the metallic locks a thorough combing. She shifts and winces as pain flares in her injured right wing. *Sorry about that, love...*

[Singularity]

*No, no, don't worry,* Franklin says, leaning his head back to look at Regan's wing. With his own changes addressed and the immediate pain out of the way, he returns to his concern and objection over her wounds, *Tell me everything that happened, love. How could they tie you down so hard?*

[Ghostwriter]

Regan sighs, continuing to caress Franklin's hair. *I nearly gutted an orderly, was screaming psychically and pretty much being a pain in the ass,* she replies. *I think they were so hard on me because of my refusal to take drugs and prior history of instability.*

[Singularity]

Franklin's brow furrows as he looks off to the side, *Really...* He blinks and flares his eyes, then looks to Regan, *Well, I'm glad you're out of there; there's never a need to be that rough. And I'm really sorry letting it get that bad... normally I'm in much better control and avoid those kind of ambushes.*

A small smile spreads on his face, *You know, I've only seen my hair reflect on some stainless steel at the M.A.S.H. encampment and I've only got a vague sense for how it feels... Is it freaky? Are you weirded out by it or are you ok with it?*

[Ghostwriter]

*It's different. I'll get used to it.* Codex continues to groom Franklin's hair affectionately. *I shudder to think of what happened when you quit.*

[Singularity]

The smile switches to a boyish grin, *I'm not entirely sure myself. When you told me what happen earlier, I called up Laragione and made it rather clear I was quitting. He wasn't too happy, but he was being drowned out by Pax howling in the background about me being some kind of 'nancy-boy' or the like. So instead of waiting around for it, I hung up the phone and got a lift out of Kashmir. Ah, I've got to remember to send Mendoza a new phone and a thank you card. I'm sure he's in it deep now.*

Franklin's expression turns pensive, *It's been an hour and a half... hopefully they're on a wild goose chase for me or dealing with Bailey's preliminary mottions. But enough of that. So, we're young, we're in love, we answer to no one, and the world's our oyster. I've got a place for you to stay and I'd love to have you.*

[Ghostwriter]

*We're hardly young,* Codex points out pedantically. *But you're right. Do you have a symbol for where we've got to go? Either that, or another teleporter up your sleeve, because I'm hard to hide and Pax may be an ass, but he's not stupid.*

[Singularity]

*Sure we're young, both of us ought to live over a hundred and fifty years, or much longer in my case,* Franklin reminds Regan with a smile. He reaches behind his back with his free hand, removing a small parcel from a hidden fold in his Eufiber. He opens the familiar leather wrapping, pulling out a much newer piece of paper than the others found inside. On the page is a short series of symbols, random letters and characters from several different alphabets and written languages. *I have no idea what each says and I think it's gibberish, but I didn't want to risk anyone figuring out its use. It'll take us to a small island I quietly acquired a few months earlier. Should be fully stocked and ready to go.*

[Ghostwriter]

Regan gets to her feet and pulls Franklin up with her. She steps through the text, appearing on a small Caribbean island that looks like one of those found in tourism magazines.

"Wow." Regan looks around in awe. "I hate to think how much this is worth."

[Singularity]

Franklin sets his arms akimbo, smiling at Regan's reaction, "Less than you would expect, actually. I have a few other places, but I am afraid I will have to give up my home in Virginia."

He turns around, brushing off the deep carving of the text on a stout wooden post. Nodding with approval, he leans his weight against it, sweaping one arm across the private locale, "Make yourself at home, love, no one can nor will bother you here."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan nods with a sigh. "I'll have to lose the warehouse in Brisbane," she says quietly. "I might sell the contents to museums and art galleries. I've got authentic Rembrandts, Millais and a few Gaugins there that I'll be damned before Utopia auctions them off."

She sighs, shaking her head. "Maybe I'll sell or give some away to everyone at the boards. I think Prodigy and Sakurako would appreciate them."

[Singularity]

Franklin shrugs, "Well, don't count them lost yet. Like I said, this isn't the only place I have and I can find somewhere else to put your things. Or I can give you the money to maintain the warehouse. It's your property, not Utopia's." He pauses for a beat in thought, "I talked to Bailey, he's already working on whatever Utopia throws my way. He can practice in Australia, he could file an... oh, what is it... an injunction to keep Utopia away from the warehouse."

[Ghostwriter]

"I shouldn't have to do this!" Regan exclaims in anger. "I damned well know most of it's my fault, but I shouldn't have had to do this!"

She sighs, shaking her head. "I'll learn to control myself. I'll prove to the Project that I'm not a rabid animal waiting to happen."

She looks up at Franklin. "Is he the chap who's posting on the forums now?"

[Singularity]

Franklin watches Regan ride out the brief outburst, hiding his relief and happiness over her self recovery.

He nods to her question, "Yes, I believe he has been watching for awhile but opted not to say anything. He is a busy man, but he is the best there is. He takes personal autonomy seriously, so I believe both of our situations would be something right up his alley." He looks back at a bungalow tucked away in the palm trees and grass, "I believe I had a secure OpNet burst terminal installed here, so it is there if you want to call him and enlist his service."

He slowly turns his head back to Regan, studying the landscape and ocean before settling a loving gaze on her, "Regardless if you call him, what do you say to some rest and recreation? We have water, hammocks, a rock on the southern beach for sunning, a comfy bed if you want to get some rest away from nature, should be loads of food..."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan smiles suddenly. "Damn, how long have you had this planned?" she asks, years lifted from her in an instant.

[Singularity]

"A bit," Franklin replies, smiling like the cat who ate the bird. "I planned it out for myself just before I was attacked in May and I made sure to modify it to include you after the the Fourth of July. I do not like to be caught off guard."

[Ghostwriter]

"I see..." Regan trails off, looking over the beautiful place. "It's beautiful, Franklin."

[Singularity]

Franklin nods, never looking away from Regan, "Yes, but it is still not as beautiful as you. Come on, I am sure you need some food after today and I believe there are some better clothes for you inside."

[Ghostwriter]

"The downside of relying on eufiber," Regan relies ruefully as she allows Franklin to lead her inside.

[Singularity]

"We should see about doing something about that," Franklin says in response to Regan's statement, opening the door to the bungalow. He leads her across an airy living room, filled with the stout whicker furniture, opening the door at the far end. It leads into a smaller room, obviously a bedroom judging by its contents and layout: a queen sized bed sits against the middle of a wall with a nightstand on either side, two armchairs (both obviously modified to accomidate wings) and a small table sit near the broad window, a large but empty bookshelf stands againt another wall, and a large armoire takes up the last wall. Needless to say, all of the furniture seems to be made of whicker and bamboo.

Franklin walks to the armoire, carefully opening it to reveal its full contents, "There should be plenty of options for you, all of which should have an open back."

[Ghostwriter]

"Jesus Lord Almighty Christ," Regan breathes as she looks into the armoire. "What did you do, rob a few Versace stores, love? This stuff is worth more than me!"

[Singularity]

"Please, you are worth more than anything material," Franklin says with a smile, "and you know how I will always respond to anything you say that is self-depreciating."

He leans his head to the side, looking over Regan's shoulder, "Hm, that explains some of the costs I saw... sorry I did not pick them out myself, love, I have been indisposed lately and I wanted to be sure everything was set for awhile now. Try something on, I am sure there is something in there that is more comfortable for this lovely place."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan locates a plain blue string bikini and removes her makeshift clothing, tossing them aside carelessly. She puts the bikini on and turns to Franklin with a smile.

"Let's just relax for a while, love. I want to forget the world for the next couple of days."

[Singularity]

Eufiber retreats and contracts into a swimsuit as Franklin moves next to Regan and gives her his arm. "Anything you want, love, no one gets to tell us what to do."

He smiles and leads her out of the room and out into the world.