2020-01-26 - The Edge

YOU DID THIS TO ME.

Moonlight reflected off the slick, wet rocks below, the unforgiving tides of the Pacific smashing into them. As she observed the violent swirl below, she wondered, absently, what it would be like to follow it all the way to the end.

YOU DID THIS TO US.

She never tried to do that before. Whenever she found herself here, it was usually over the summer, where the crystal-blue surf and the skies stretched on for miles. When the sun was high, and hot, and she knew the temperature would be just right once she hit the water after she jumped. And as she looked on, she couldn't help but notice just how different it was in the Winter. From up here, cold and sleeting, and well past midnight, everything looked black.

As black as the hours past midnight. As black as the shadows calling for her to come home.

YOU DID THIS TO ME.

She had tended to Minerva's injuries before she left; thankfully, they were minor. Yule was another story - his required surgery, and once he was checked into recovery, he had refused to see anyone. That was understandable, too, and she knew it the moment she saw the look in his eyes after he emerged from the Dream. But she waited anyway; the ordeal was taxing, exhausting in ways she could never eloquently describe to anyone, but it wouldn't be her if she didn't see the endeavor through up until the very end.

YOU DID THIS TO US.

The Pacific bashed itself against the boulders, chipping at stone, and as the fragments were washed away, she thought about where they all went once they were unmoored. Part of her wanted to find out. Part of her wanted to follow, but what remained of her sundered heart felt so heavy, her bones as if filled with cement, that clinging, persistent sense of hopelessness following her through the entire drive - she didn't know, wasn't certain if they were her feelings, or planted there by what the three of them had managed to do.

You did this to me. You did this to us.

Isabella pressed her boot into the edge and watched it crumble under her weight. The craggy shards fell like tears, dark and weighty, and the water carried them away. Again, she wondered where they all went once they let go.

I was loved my entire life. The thought was absent, too, her tired mind drifting into the black and remembering other people's faces, the bits and pieces of other people's lives that she managed to learn. What did I ever do to deserve it?

The Pacific continued to crash against the rocks underneath her, carrying their pieces away.

In the end, it was the siren that broke through her fugue, the wok-whoop and the flash of blue and red that had her looking up from her drifting contemplations. She didn't recognize the officer that climbed out of the driver's seat, but he was young, his uniform neatly pressed and bundled up in a winter jacket. The beam of his flashlight found her on the precipice, and his concerned look was well-meant and inquiring.

"Everything okay, miss?"

"Officer," she said, sliding her hands in her pockets. "Sorry, am I not supposed to park here?"

"No, just..." He hesitated. "It's wet and icy everywhere, and you're a little too close to the edge."

Normally, there would be a quip; the round would be chambered and fired within the blink of an eye. Lighthearted comments about how she made a living on it, was building a career doing the very thing. But the words wouldn't come and she still wasn't certain whether it was guilt or supernatural influence spurring her to remain where she was - the consequences and after-effects of where the pursuit of knowledge tended to lead the most intrepid and foolhardy of explorers.

Finally, chapped lips parted to reply, "Could you follow me to my house? Make sure I get there?"

"Sure." He took a step forward, his smile an open and encouraging one. She took in how young he seemed, and hoped that the job wouldn't take the shine from him just yet. A gloved hand extended towards her. "Take my hand, okay? And step carefully."

She took a breath and set her fingers on his palm, curling them around it.

You did this to me.

The words were fainter, now, when he pulled her off the precipice, and dimmer still when his blue-and-red lights flashed on her rearview mirror. She didn't steer the Jeep to Elm, but rather Bayside where the family's Tudor home stood on the crest of a hill, overlooking the docks. From where she stopped her vehicle, she could glimpse the Surprise's gleaming white lines. She knew its silhouette anywhere.

Booted steps took her up the front walk and up the steps leading into the front door and its distinct, stained-glass paneling. Her chest tightened, but now that she was standing at the threshold, she couldn't bring herself to turn back. Fingers curled around the ancient brass knocker and tapped, each sound echoing like distant thunderclaps.

It didn't take long for an answer. The heavy wooden appendage swung open, and like, green-and-gold eyes found her own. Surprise breached the stoic lines of George Reede's face. "Isabella. It's..." Perhaps it was the hour, or her expression, but he grew serious immediately and waited.

"Dad." Her voice was hoarse, her face twisting under the throes of a growing uncertainty. Her fingers balled tightly into the lining of her pockets. Her eyes fell somewhere onto the center of his chest.

"There's something I have to tell you."