—chapter six, or...

❛ the folly of finding your 
ex-boyfriend in the paper. ❜  

SEPTEMBER 3rd, 1963.

ELODIE HUMMED UNDER HER BREATH AS SHE PREPARED THE breakfast plates. She broke in half mumbled lyrics whenever she remembered them, which wasn't often and made for a rather poorly performed song, hardly doing The Shirelles justice. But regardless, she continued, much to the delight of the others near her.

"Love on your mind?" taunted Rudy, Livingston's chef. He poked the spatula in hand her way, "or are you just seekin' to find a new career? Cause, hate to say it — singing ain't your thing."

Elodie faked a glare, though it was hard to hold in her giggles, quickly joining in on the older man's wind-chimes for a laugh. "Don't be jealous of my talent, just 'cause you ain't got any!"

"Talent? I've heard cows giving birth that sounded more appealing than your groans!"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, pulling away with the breakfast trays. "Jealousy, I'm telling you."

Rudy's wheezing laugh followed her out of the great swinging doors and into the breakfast room, where already a small party was gathered. No one looked up when she arrived, but that was expected, and Elodie didn't care for their eyes anyways. She slipped around the table, dropping plates for Livingston, Aimee, and Ellis, pausing to kiss the boy's head at the last.

She didn't miss how he shrugged her off. But that could be for a later argument.

"I'll be back with coffee," she promised, leaving the silent trio to their newspaper and meals alike. And, true to her word she was; within two minutes, Elodie was pulling back into the dining room with steaming coffee clutched tight.

Only that time, it wasn't silent.

"—lunatics," Livingston roared, waggling his papers with a gusto she rarely saw out of him at nine in the morning. "Raving lunatics! I'm glad they caught him, but who knows who else is behind his madness!"

Aimee sighed from across the table. She smiled gently as Elodie poured her a cup, but said nothing to it. "It's just one stupid man. Dallas is full'a folks like him."

"But this stupid guy was raving about killing the president! Or a plot about the president. I just," Livingston sighed, dropping a corner of the papers to pinch at his nose. "I cannot believe this city is so far gone that we allow men like this to run about willy-nilly, throwing knives and ranting about murder plots. This city was once the greatest in this country, you know. Now look what it is — Miss Cruise, are you alright?"

Elodie was standing completely frozen behind Livingston's shoulder, oblivious to the three now staring at her. She had at least the thought to put the coffee pot down, but Livingston's mug had not been served such grace. It had shattered at her feet, leaving fragments of finely painting porcelain scattered all around her feet. And yet she hadn't even jumped at the sound; just stood stock-still, staring at the paper in Livingston's hand with a face so pale, one would think she had seen a ghost.

"Miss Cruise?"

"Lucy?"

"Mom?"

It was the 'mom' that broke her out of her daze, drawing her eyes away from the black and white face and back to reality. She looked down to the ground, taking in the mess made around her. Hot coffee had splashed over her calves and shoes, and fragments of expensive porcelain laid in spirals around her. "I-I am so sorry. I-I will be right back to clean this up."

Elodie stalked away with her knees knocking. She didn't hear the curious murmurs of the trio, and she hardly heard Rudy's mocking remarks about her expression. Her hands grasped blindly at the dustpan and broom, and her feet somehow carried her back out to clean up the mess, working against her dumbstruck mind to keep her job.

Livingston spoke above her, and Aimee retorted each remark, but she didn't really hear any of it. Ellis called her name, and she merely smiled in his vague direction, seeing nothing but the face that had caught her eye in the paper. The eyes that she had believed were lost, watching her stumble around like a newborn deer in the midst of a hurricane.

"You alright, Lucy? You look—"

"—give me a second," she rasped, dropping the broom and racing out. She turned the corner and sank into the waiting ottoman, collapsing against it with a sigh. Her trembling hands found her face and gripping the skin, shaking her head around as she tried to collect her wits.

"He's back," she murmured to herself, staring towards nothing in particular. She sucked in another gasp of oxygen, "he's b-back, and alive, and...holy fuck..."

"Mom?"

Elodie startled and squeaked, whirling around to stare at the intruder. But it was just Ellis, come to check on her she imagined, watching her as one would a wounded animal. His hands reached forward, tentatively reaching her shoulders, patting gently.

"I-I-" she gulped, "he's alive, Ellis. A-all this t-time, or — I don't, I don't—"

"—it's okay," he reassured. His grip grew a little stronger, wrapping around her trembling body and holding her to him. In her state of disarray, she vaguely noticed how much taller he had grown, and how he was actually able to hold her. That only sent her into greater hysterics. "It's okay, E-mom."

"I-I thought he was dead," she croaked. No tears fell, and no sobs formed to clog up her throat, but she still felt like she was at the edge of a thunderstorm. Rain soaked every inch of skin and left her frozen in her brother's hold. "I-I-I fucking looked, I-I tried, but—"

"—shh. It's okay, it's gonna be okay."

Elodie sank into his hold. Her body felt like jelly; like if her brother let go, she would just drip to the ground in a sad, gelatinous pile. 

"I can't believe this, Ellie."

She didn't realise she had let his old nickname slip, and Ellis didn't comment on it. He only nodded and squeezed tighter. "I know."

"I thought he was dead."

"I know. I know."

"He's alive," she whispered. Her hand dragged down her face, falling back down to her lap. "He's alive...there might be hope...he's alive..."

SEPTEMBER 10th, 1963.

IT HAD TAKEN ELODIE EXACTLY THREE DAYS TO FORM A plan — with her brother's help, of course. The rest of that time was spent either worrying, considering all the ways it could go wrong, or convincing Aimee to help her carry out said badly-formed, reckless, entirely emotionally-driven plan.

She lied through her teeth, for the most part, claiming that Diego had been a friend of a friend, and must have lost his wits after his times in the war. She told her that they had grown up together, and while that wasn't true, it was probably easier than trying to explain both time travel and their super weird superheroic abilities. And with Diego stuck in a mental institution, of all places, it was difficult to defend him without seeming like she was somehow in something she probably shouldn't be.

Aimee had been quite hesitant at first. When Elodie came to her frantic, asking for her help to visit an 'old friend' she had turned her down. It took several days to convince her of the idea and pad out their plan, trying to make sure that Livingston didn't find out. Both woman worried that he would anyways, but finally Aimee consented, and the idea was set.

Because of Elodie's strict rules, she had to have a chaperone and a good reason. Ben was out of the question of course — she knew he wouldn't understand, and would simply think she was kidding him. Plus, Livingston always liked to play 'chaperone' for their dates, so pulling that off would have been hard. But she had a monthly dress allowance, and a friend in Aimee.

And so, a plan was set. On the tenth of September when setting out for their monthly shopping trip, Aimee and Elodie would instead head over to the asylum, where an appointment had already been set the night before. They wouldn't have long. Maybe twenty minutes of time before things got too suspicious, and Aimee insisted on being there with Elodie, so she had to hold up her lie. She would have to play Diego every second of their visit, but at the very least she could get near enough to give him some hope, via Ellis.

"What the hell is this?" Elodie had asked, holding up the silver dot to the light. It was barely half an inch long and had no visible markings what so ever. It looked more like a weird sequin than anything. "And why would I give Diego it?"

Ellis had sighed and taken it back, resuming that ever patient tone he got with her, trying to explain his genius to someone who never quite understood it. "It's a prototype. But you can plant this on him, and it will merge long enough for him to escape with it. Like, they won't be able to see or sense it on him — and especially with 60s tech, it'll be unnoticeable."

"And I can attach anything to it?"

"Yeah. I mean, nothing too big, but — yeah." Ellis clicked the silver underbelly, and it sprung away from him. Elodie watched as it burped out a square of folded paper and... "I didn't have much to put in, but it holds about the size of a Milky Bar. As you can see."

She grinned, lifting the sequin-like thing back up to the light. Her nail tapped the backside, watching the compartment open and reopen again. "How exactly is this possible?"

Ellis didn't share that bit with her. She chose not to push him further.

"You sure this man isn't like, dangerous?!" Aimee whispered loudly. "I mean, the newspaper made it sound like he had hundreds of weapons on him! What if we—"

"—he's not a danger to anybody," Elodie hissed back. "I promise, he won't hurt m-us."

The man with them — an attendant, she supposed, dressed all in white and looking like he had walked right out of one of Grandmother's old movies, turned to look back at them. "Trust me, ma'am, your visit will be supervised and there are protections in place to ensure no patients will harm their visitors. You're perfectly fine."

Aimee 'hmphed' and mumbled something under her breath. Elodie tried to pretend she didn't hear every word of the biting retort.

Finally the man slowed and gestured to a light blue door. "After you, ma'am's," he said, almost in a sing-song voice. "I'll be right behind you."

Elodie thought she could prepare herself. She had tried for days, forcing herself through copious exercises to release stress and remind herself of the mission ahead. But nothing could have prepared her for what came next.

Diego looked exhausted. It was the first thing she noticed when she walked in, and it was something she had seen many a times before from him. There was a dullness to his skin, his expression, leaving him cold and faded like an old picture. His eyes drooped in weariness, but not from lack of sleep, from lack of exposure. His facial hair had developed some from the last time she saw him; not by much, but the stubble was thicker, scraggly where he hadn't trimmed it well before. She supposed cutting tools weren't given to patients. But she also knew, the untidiness bothered him. He used to be so careful about his appearance, because it was one of the only things he could control in his life.

But as she looked at him, it just looked like he was ready to give up.

He hadn't looked up right away. She knew he was listening to their footsteps staggering in, staring at the shoes to see if he recognised them — and she also knew, he would find no familiarity in her neatly laced heels. And so Elodie steeled herself, watching as his head dipped up and lifted ever so slowly until it finally landed on hers.

Her only solitude was in his eyes. Even if he was imprisoned and exhausted, his eyes still had hope. And the spark only grew when they met her gaze.

"Elodie?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired. He coughed, clearing up the unused muscle before saying her name again, a little louder that time. "Elodie!"

She knew that was coming. It was the first point she had prepared herself with, because of course, he wouldn't know her name had changed. But hearing him say it almost broke her. She would have collapsed right then and there, if it weren't for the reminder of why she came there. That small fragment of hope that she clung to, believing all of it would be for something.

Elodie glanced back at Aimee and the attendant, trying to fake confusion. "I-I don't know who that is. Is—"

"—he's been mumbling that name ever since he got here, ma'am," the man assured her, smiling to himself like he knew something she didn't. "No one really knows who it is...or if it is, if you..."

"Understood," she nodded, trying to ignore the sting of his insinuation. She turned back to Diego with a plastered smile on her cheeks. "Hi, Diego, d-do you remember me?"

"What the hell are you doing? What—"

"—it's been a while since we were kids," she continued, eager to shut off his protests before he exposed them both, "but I-surely you remember me? Lucy, from the farm?"

His gaze wasn't altogether steady with her own; her heart clenched, knowing he must be on something to hold him down. But he stared angrily anyways, and she saw a bit more life in him than she had before. 

"I don't know what this is," he glowered back somewhat quieter, his hands straining in their hold, "but this shit isn't funny. Who's Lucy?!"

Elodie reached forward and slowly took a seat. She heard Aimee muttering in the background; at least further away, it was easier to ignore her snide remarks. Her hands folded in her lap. The nails dug into her dress, pulling at the thin fabric until they were dragging across her thighs. Old habits died poorly when presented with such stress, she mused.

"I heard about what happened," she said softly, trying to control the soft pitch to her voice, wincing when it wavered. "I have to say, I didn't expect this...you were always so good. A-at the farm. When were kids."

Diego didn't say anything to that — either because of completely overwhelming confusion, or maybe because he was starting to grasp onto her game. She prayed for the latter.

"The war took a lot out of all of us, don't it?" She forced herself to chuckle; the sounds rattled through her flimsy frame. "I always said you deserved better. But, but you know that these men—" her eyes darted from face to face, watching the white-dressed beings as they listened in, "they're only looking to — to help you. They're gonna take care of you, if you let them."

Still he didn't speak. His jaw rippled, teeth grinding behind his look of confused anger. Elodie wanted to cry.

"Um..." she tried to remember all the lies Ellis had came up with for her, painting clues into her fake reality. Her mind was blanking -- why couldn't she remember what he said?! "You - I left um, Horace a while back. That's how I ended up here...me and my son, we needed to get out of there, so we came to the city and sorted things out."

His tongue darted out, startlingly pink against his dull, chapped lips. "Son?"

"Freddie? You remember him, surely." Her lips pulled down, cracking at the smile she was trying so hard to uphold. "Oh, my — remember when I thought he was gonna be a girl? I was gonna name him Ellie, for my dad Ellis. You remember that?"

She watched realisation pool in his dark brown eyes, lighting them up a bit more. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I 'member."

"He's grown up so since you last saw him, I bet you wouldn't even recognise him. Leaving helped so much. And, plus my work with this lovely gentlemen, Richard Livingston—" her mask almost cracked at the 'lovely' part, "—has helped so, he's gotten to go to a good school and really branch out in his talents. I wish you could meet him."

Diego's eyes traced every inch of her skin, as she did his; mapping out every change, every feature masked or shifted to hide one secret or another. "You're in the city?"

"Good ol' Dallas," she laughed softly. "My, it's so nice to escape that small lifestyle. There's so much more here, and Livingston's so good to me and Freddie, you wouldn't believe it. I got a whole life here, you know? Funny how three years changes a person."

The last detail threw him off, weirdly. She watched him blink and gape, stuttering silently before landing on a word. "T-three years?!"

"Um...yeah. Three years, since I left Har-uh, Horace?"

Still, he looked puzzled. "Shit," he blew softly, leaning back in his chair with questions dancing in his eyes. "Shit..."

"I-I can't stay long, you know. But I'd like to visit again, if that'd be alright? I - I imagine it's lonely. I know you got family but I don't know if they moved to Da—"

"—they're not here," he mumbled. "I'm alone."

Elodie's heart sank. She had hoped that somehow the rest of the Hargreeves had gotten caught too, that maybe she could pull a real escape and leave this faux fuckery for good. Maybe there was some way they got separated too, but...

"I'll come again, then," she said, sad hope dancing in the words. "If that'd be okay?"

Diego's head bobbed up and down. "Please. Please come back."

"Okay. I will."

"T-thank you."

Elodie nodded and slowly moved closer, watching the guards out of the corner of her eyes. They didn't react, so she continued, pulling forward in her chair until her hands were hovering mere centimetres away from his own.

Pat, pat, pat. Three taps, moulding the technology to his folded hands, before pulling away and leaving the invisible magnet to cling to his skin. She wanted more. She deserved more. But still, her hands fell back again, leaving his strained against his cuffs, eager to touch her warm skin, holding her fingers in his own again.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" Elodie smiled tightly. "I promise."

Diego had only spared a single glance down to his hands, looking once before darting back up to her face. She assumed he had felt something, but if he had, he wasn't fool enough to say that.

Final part. Most important part.

"You know, I just remembered," her hand flew nervously through her pinned curls, messing up the ringlets with little care. "those dogs that Fred loved? Back on Horace's farm. I swear they were his babies...he loved to be around them, care for them...and he used to say you just had to click, and their underbellies would be exposed, and you could pet them all day long. Read 'em like an open book, heh."

The sentence made no sense. But she repeated it anyways, emphasising every word to ensure he got at least a part of her screwy clue. It wasn't much, but her mind had been wiped of every piece of advice Ellis had leant to her, leaving her scrambling for hints to feed him on her own. She had never been good at puzzles or wordplays, but at least it was something. Fingers crossed, he understood.

She stood up then, pushing the chair back with a horrible grating sound. "I best be going now," she sang, fighting back tears in her eyes. "Work calls and Fred'll be out of school soon. But I'll be back soon, okay?"

Diego's eyes were wide and watching, as though he was trying to take her all in before it was too late. "O-okay."

"I'll be back," she promised again. Her eyes darted up to meet the guards before falling back down and chancing a silent, second assurance that she couldn't help but make. Her lips opened and fell, three words that she wished she could scream with all her heart in soul.

I love you.

And then she turned away.

"DO YOU TAKE ME AS A FOOL?!"

Elodie shuddered. Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could still see him and his rage, feel him all around her like he was just about swallowing her up. She couldn't get away from him even if she tried — and she knew better, than to try.

"Do you take me as a fucking fool, Miss Cruise?!"

Desperately she shook her head, hair flying and whipping her in the face like shards of glass. "N-no, sir."

"Then why, do you continue to lie to me and continue to believe that you, you of all people, can pull the wool over my eyes!?"

She couldn't stop shaking.

"Do you really think you're better than me, Miss Cruise? That I am but a sleeping dog who you can tramp all over and ignore for your frivolities? Do you?!"

"No, I-I—"

"—you are a foolish swine of a woman, a tadpole I ought to crush under my shoe and leave as a pitiful stain to be cleaned out of my carpet. You are an idiotic cretin who seems to think that her son gives immunity for her half-witted excuses for revolution! You think you're actually worth something, more than the floors you scrub away at all day. Don't you?"

She didn't bother to respond to that. She knew he didn't want an answer.

"I may not yet know where you were going, but believe me when I say, I will. And when I find out, you should know, I will be not as merciful as I will be now. Do you understand me, Miss Cruise?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you understand?!"

Elodie's head lifted, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion as she held back the painful memories he was disturbing. "Yes...I understand."

"I have given you everything. I took you in when you were nothing. I could have left you to die on the streets but no, I gave you a home, a bed to sleep in, food to stuff your pigged mouth with, and I gave your son a future you could not possibly provide for him. I gave your son what he needed when you were too selfish to care for him. I have been beyond generous and yet still, you beg for more, grabbing at my ankles thinking you can knock me down from so far below me."

Breath in, breath out. She had to remain calm. He was just saying words - words that hurt, but they were just sounds, she could let sounds go. She'd done it before.

"You are worthless, and yet I give you a paradise to roll your filth in. Understood? If it weren't for your son, you would have been long gone, and even still I can take that away. Because you have no value to me, Miss Cruise."

She didn't see Livingston anymore. She saw her father. Snarling and red in the face, screaming and throwing things all around her. Great crashes echoed in her ears, booms that she knew weren't real. Livingston didn't throw things, but her father did. But he loved the word worthless too, and she could hear him yelling at her then — that same red-in-the-face rage tormenting her childhood, leaving her whimpering and crying as she crawled into bed. She craved value from a man who saw nothing but his own greed, and so she suffered at his hands easily, because she had nothing else.

But that wasn't the case, anymore.

Livingston was wrong about everything. He needed her, but she didn't need him. Certainly not to give her life value, anyways. He was a bump in her road. She would cross over him soon and leave him in the dust with her brother and Diego by her side. She would leave the vindictive, squirming rat of a man long behind and live a better, happier life than he ever could. She'd done it before.

And so Elodie dipped her head down again, but not to hide her tears. Instead under her veil of hair created she was smiling. She nodded, but there was nothing but thinly shielded mirth behind each motion. "I understand, sir. And I will never do that again."

She couldn't wait to burn the entire place to the ground.

Elodie slunk out of the room, just as he expected her too, but her head was nothing like the swirling state it was before. It was clear and poised. Even as Aimee stopped her, begging for forgiveness, she didn't falter. The woman before would have, but no longer — not with the hope burning a hole through the misery she had plastered over her heart.

"We will be just fine," she assured Ellis, hours after it all. Her hands brushed down his head, through the locks of light brown hair that were just starting to grow out again. "Trust me. All this will be over in due time."

"How can you be so sure? He just treated you like garbage, and — and you're calm?! Why are you not mad?"

She smiled softly. "I'm furious, Ellis. But my anger can wait a couple more days. Livingston has nothing on us, you know."

"But—"

"—no buts," she interjected. "None of that. We gotta be strong and hopeful, okay? Cause that's how we get out of this shitshow alive. Just as we always have before."

Ellis' head fell back down to her shoulder and she hugged him tight, silent again. Rain fell in tiny patters on the window, and light danced across her ceiling, creating great mirages of what could be and what was to come. She watched them shift and fall, smiling sadly of the images created before her.

She knew that messing up in such a way forbid her from seeing Diego again. But at least she did it, and at least she had a bit more faith in the world.