Fear Itself

When I rose from slumber, I walked out to everyone gathered around the screen above the control panel, the very one I used to program Alfred. Alex was up at the control panel, trying to figure out what in the world to make of it. Shane, Elijah, Lola, and their comrades gathered around him, staring up at the screen that had once been blank but now looked like a desktop, sort of like the smaller screen in Dean’s car. It was full of little symbols and accompanied with a motion-sensor. It was also programmed to recognize familiar faces.

“I’m Alex,” Alex told the screen.

“Well, hello, Alex,” the computer told him back, in a computerized, English accent. “My name is Alfred. I am the Brotherhood’s virtual intelligence unit. My creator has insisted I refer to you as ‘Eyebrows.’” There pause. “Hello, Princess Tali,” Alfred greeted me when I walked out of my room.

A giddy grin crossed my tired face when he addressed me just as I had programmed him to. “Morning, Alfred,” I chirped.

“That is my creator,” Alfred explained to the group. “She is of royal descent, and she is also the smartest person in all of London.”

“Did she tell you that?” Alex huffed with a slightly bitter laugh.

“Yes,” Alfred replied.

Alex turned to me with a rather unamused look on his face. “Could you be anymore pompous, Princess Tali?” he asked mockingly.

I just shrugged my shoulders. “Ask me after I get breakfast, and I’ll let you know.”

“Let me get that door for you, Princess Tali,” Alfred said, a door nearby blinked red and opened.

“Thanks!” I giggled and scurried off, gleeful with how well Alfred was running.

“By the way, Princess Tali,” Alfred explained, voice echoing into the tiny kitchen/pantry he had opened for me. “It’s about five o’clock.”

“Oh my goodness,” I said with a mouthful of cornflakes and even more in my hand. “Really?”

“Really,” Alfred added. I took the box of cornflakes and rushed off back to the work room, shoving handfuls of the cereal into my mouth the whole time. By the time I got there, I didn’t remember why I had gone in there in the first place, but my eyes fell upon my mother’s journal once again.

“Maybe I should read it,” I mumbled. “I can always just stop if I want to.” I gave myself a reassuring nod and took it in my hands. My heart thudded against my chest every time I thought about opening it. I heard the elevator clank and the panel slide open. Out of curiosity, I poked my head out to see Dean stepping into the base, and I could almost feel my whole face light up. “Muscles!” I addressed him eagerly with a bit of a squeal.

His head snapped toward me, and I saw him grinning. “Blondie!” he laughed as I rushed toward him and hugged him tight. He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“I missed you,” I murmured sweetly as he wrapped his arms me, and I swayed a little in his grasp. “How was work?” I asked. “Was it totally awful?”

“Well, I’d much rather be with you, if that’s what you mean,” Dean whispered into my ear, squeezing me so tightly that my feet lifted off the floor a little. I giggled a little until he put me back on the floor and kissed me right below my ear. I pulled back to quickly kiss him on the lips.

“Wanna hang out?” I asked, smiling softly.

“I’m supposed to be helping Sam get some things sorted out,” he explained. “But I think I could spare some time for my favorite girl.”

“Great,” I squeaked out with a wide grin. “See, Sam found my mum’s journal, and I was thinking that maybe we could read it together.” I really just didn’t want to read it alone. If Dean was with me, I wouldn’t feel so scared to open it, and maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to read. He didn’t even have to read it with me, just so long as he was there; I’d feel so much better, but I don’t think he shared my sentiments. His arms loosened around me, and his grin faded like a switch had gone off in his head.

“Can’t we do something else?” he asked, an uneasy look on his face.

“Um,” I murmured, chewing my bottom lip, withdrawing my arms to hug my mother’s journal to my chest. “I just… really wanted to read this—“

“That’s fine,” Dean said, and for a moment, hope flickered in my eyes. “But I’m not going to join you.” Just like that, hope was gone. In mere seconds, I felt my spirits dampened, and I just shrugged.

“But you don’t even have to—“

“Blondie, I said no,” he repeated, colder, harsher. His arms fell from around me. “I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you later,” he muttered, heading off to find Sam, leaving me there, holding the book, all alone in the middle of the base. But then, I was angry. I was really angry. I marched right back to him and stopped him in his tracks.

“Why not, Dean?” I asked. His steps faltered a bit, and he seemed to stumble. Once he regained balance, he folded his arms over his chest in immediate defense.

“Because I want nothing to do with my father, and that’s got a hell of a lot to do with him,” he scoffed.

“But don’t you want to know?” I implored, unable to fathom why Dean had no desire to read about the man he accused of abandoning him. I just didn’t understand. Wasn’t he curious?

“No, I actually don’t,” Dean laughing condescendingly. “Now, if you’ll get out of my way, I’ve got things to do.” I stood firm and shook my head adamantly. “Blondie, I don’t have time for this,” he huffed and walked around me, circumventing my blockade and walking straight into Sam’s room. The door closed behind him. I stared at the panel for a moment. It blended right back into the wall, like the room didn’t even exist. Like Dean disappeared when he had entered, and now he was just a part of the wall. Accurate enough, I supposed. Trying to talk to him lately was exactly like talking to a wall.

Journal in hand, I retired to my room, and I sat on the bed in the dim glow of the desk lamp, trying to read my mother’s journal. I read it much faster than I anticipated I would at first. She was a lovely writer, very eloquent. In a way, reading her journal was everything I wanted and more. She was brave, and brilliant, and beautiful. She was caring and loyal, just like the hero I always dreamed of. I was about halfway through the thing when Avery wandered in.

“Princess, why’s that overgrown pop-up callin’ me ‘Mumbles?’” he grunted.

“I told him to,” I explained, glancing up from the journal with a smile. “I made him.”

Avery gave me a shocked look (at least as shocked as he could muster, which was really just a twitch of his eyebrow). “Damn,” he huffed.

“Sam found Mum’s journal,” I told him. He just glanced back at me, didn’t say anything. “I um… I’m reading it,” I continued. “And I’d really enjoy company. Dean told me no, so I was wondering…” I looked up with a hopeful looking on my face, and after a pause, Avery just nodded.

“Okay, Princess,” he grumbled and sat down next to me. “I got time.”

He sat with me until I finished. I don’t know how long it took. He sat with me until the words stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, where I’m assuming she was arrested and taken away to face her death. She was alone. Her best friends abandoned her: Lawrence shot himself in the head, and Landon skipped town without so much as a word. I was about to close the book. I didn’t know I felt. It was hard to feel emotional over someone I never met, but I felt better knowing that I knew more about her. I was about to close the book, but I stopped. Slipped between the last two pages were three small envelopes. One was labeled ‘Nate,’ another ‘Avery,’ and one, ‘Tali.’

“Mumbles,” I said, handing him his envelope. “I think… I think she left this for you.” He just nodded and took it, examining the thing. I did the same for a moment, until I decided to tear the thing open, unaware of what I would find.