Status: let's see how this goes, shall we?
Trace Your Shadows
get nostalgic for disaster
NOW
That cool Chicago breeze begins to kick up a fuss, tugging on coats and whispering in the ears of passersbys as they hurry to get in before the evening sets, everyone but Fiona Harris who isn’t in much of a hurry to be anywhere. She watches the people pass her, a half smile tacked onto her thin lips as she mindlessly wanders, thinking nothing much past what she should have for dinner.
The week she’d taken off from work had been kind to her, she’d managed to settle her stresses and began to feel fresh again, more okay with things. She knows that the next week would be full of trying to get back on top of the work she’s let pile up but she figures that is for her future self to worry about. For now, she’s happy to walk around the city she’s grown up in, the city she loves, and just appreciate it while she can.
She’s pulled away from her reflections by an insistent buzzing in her coat pocket, and her gloved fingers fumble to retrieve it. With a confused glance at the name on the screen, she holds it to her ear to answer.
“Patrick, hi,” Fiona greets warmly, despite the time that’s unraveled since the last time they’d spoken. “Long time, no talk. What’s up?”
“Fi.” Patrick’s voice is tight, clipped, and not at all like his usual friendly tone. “It’s Pete, Fi. It’s bad, it’s really bad. You need to come, now, we need you here, I don’t know if he’s gonna get through this one.”
Patrick’s words rush into each other while Fiona’s heart nearly stops at the implications, trying to make sense of it all. “Patrick, whoa, slow down, wait! Where are you? Where’s Pete? What’s going on?”
“I don’t – I don’t want to do this over the phone. Look, I’m at the hospital, just, when can you get here?” Patrick asks, his voice beginning to waver and it sends Fiona right to the edge, Patrick on the verge of tears is enough to break her.
“North-western Memorial? Okay, okay, look Patrick, I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’ll text you when I’m close,” Fiona promises, already winding her way around people on the sidewalk in an attempt to flag down a taxi. “Just… just look after him, don’t let him go Patrick, don’t let him go anywhere.”
Patrick’s quiet for a minute and Fiona almost believes he’s hung up when his voice returns, quiet, unnervingly settled. “I don’t know if I can make that promise.”
Fiona’s heart clatters to a halt against her rib cage at the defeat in Patrick’s voice and so she’s the one to hang up on him, unable to accept the fact that maybe this is the last time, maybe she couldn’t save him after all.
That cool Chicago breeze begins to kick up a fuss, tugging on coats and whispering in the ears of passersbys as they hurry to get in before the evening sets, everyone but Fiona Harris who isn’t in much of a hurry to be anywhere. She watches the people pass her, a half smile tacked onto her thin lips as she mindlessly wanders, thinking nothing much past what she should have for dinner.
The week she’d taken off from work had been kind to her, she’d managed to settle her stresses and began to feel fresh again, more okay with things. She knows that the next week would be full of trying to get back on top of the work she’s let pile up but she figures that is for her future self to worry about. For now, she’s happy to walk around the city she’s grown up in, the city she loves, and just appreciate it while she can.
She’s pulled away from her reflections by an insistent buzzing in her coat pocket, and her gloved fingers fumble to retrieve it. With a confused glance at the name on the screen, she holds it to her ear to answer.
“Patrick, hi,” Fiona greets warmly, despite the time that’s unraveled since the last time they’d spoken. “Long time, no talk. What’s up?”
“Fi.” Patrick’s voice is tight, clipped, and not at all like his usual friendly tone. “It’s Pete, Fi. It’s bad, it’s really bad. You need to come, now, we need you here, I don’t know if he’s gonna get through this one.”
Patrick’s words rush into each other while Fiona’s heart nearly stops at the implications, trying to make sense of it all. “Patrick, whoa, slow down, wait! Where are you? Where’s Pete? What’s going on?”
“I don’t – I don’t want to do this over the phone. Look, I’m at the hospital, just, when can you get here?” Patrick asks, his voice beginning to waver and it sends Fiona right to the edge, Patrick on the verge of tears is enough to break her.
“North-western Memorial? Okay, okay, look Patrick, I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’ll text you when I’m close,” Fiona promises, already winding her way around people on the sidewalk in an attempt to flag down a taxi. “Just… just look after him, don’t let him go Patrick, don’t let him go anywhere.”
Patrick’s quiet for a minute and Fiona almost believes he’s hung up when his voice returns, quiet, unnervingly settled. “I don’t know if I can make that promise.”
Fiona’s heart clatters to a halt against her rib cage at the defeat in Patrick’s voice and so she’s the one to hang up on him, unable to accept the fact that maybe this is the last time, maybe she couldn’t save him after all.
♠ ♠ ♠
so this is just a quick look into the future, the next few chapters will be focused on where it all began for pete and fiona.i haven't been on mibba in maybe five years and so everything is different to how it was. if i'm doing something wrong, let me know because it's been a while! and if you are reading this, thank you!