|Loren knows not what he's done. (skelterhelter) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2012-06-20 23:06:00
|Entry tags:||sam winchester, tate langdon|
Who: Loren & Meredith
What: This living situation is off to a bad start.
Where: Loren's place.
When: Some time around Jules' date, basically before Loren goes to work.
Meredith had arrived in the morning, just as she had told Loren, and she found the key beneath the mat, just as he had promised. It felt strange to be entering into his apartment without him there, but what else did she have to do that day? The office had been called, and she explained to them that for the moment, she needed some time off, because she couldn’t bring herself to just outright quit. Michael had went out of his way to help her find the position, and she wanted to attempt to hold onto it. Maybe all of this would just... pass over, and she could go back to her regular life, her job, her apartment.
Until then, there was Loren.
She didn’t bring much with her, two suitcases with clothes and other belongings, a laptop, her e-reader, and a few other bits and pieces, the rest left behind in her apartment which was guaranteed for her through the end of July. Plenty of time, Meredith believed, for things to finally settle. The bags had been piled beside the door with the help of the cab driver, and she tipped him generously for his help in loading up his cab and helping her unload it here. And then, Meredith unlocked the door to Loren’s apartment and pulled the first of her bags within. She didn’t take a look around until all of her bags were in and the door was locked behind her, the deadbolt thrown just to be safe. And then, she turned around. And found a mess.
Meredith considered herself to be a neat, organized person, and the mess of empties and paper, books scattered here and there, bits and pieces of a life that wasn’t hers, was somewhat unsettling. She had no idea where she would be sleeping, where to put her stuff, and sitting around, just waiting for Loren to get back (because she hadn’t thought to ask him when that would be), wasn’t in her nature. So she set to cleaning. The bottles were gathered up and put in a box she had found, sat beside the door for recycling. Papers were gathered and carefully smoothed out, stacked together as she took care not to look too closely at anything she found. Books were stacked up as neatly as she could manage, surfaces wiped down, and she found a vacuum in the closet to run over the floors. It felt good, keeping herself busy, her mind off of everything that was going on, the smell of bleach and soap familiar and clean as she saw to the kitchen and cleaned until it was sparkling. She was just putting things away, the dishes dried, when she heard the locks on the door turn, leaving her freezing as she turned around, lip bitten in that sudden rush of anxiety she felt.
Loren expected Meredith to be in his apartment by the time he returned, but what he didn't expect was the overwhelming hospital smell of bleach and lysol. The door opened, and he paused with a quirked brow before crossing the threshold. He wanted to call out for her, to question if she was here, but something protective and ingrained made him stay silent in case it was another stranger in his apartment. He might not have had his firearm, but he shed his jacket in stripper ease and let it land in a bunch on the floor as he advanced further into the apartment. To the left there was movement, and it was the flash of red hair that stilled his heart. He didn't smile, but he sighed with a little lift of his chin that might have been considered a greeting. "Meredith.." Then he began to notice the polished counters. ".. what are you.."
A glance into the living room stopped his heart. Where once had been ramshackle stacks of religious books scrambled about the couch was now nothing. The papers on the couch, the small collection of notes from Hannah were gone, the couch was tidy, the fucking floor was vacuumed. The whole place smelled like a new apartment and not.. not whatever lingering cells Hannah had left behind. Momentarily stunned, he scrambled forward for a brief glance into the living room before turning on the redhead in the kitchen with all the bared teeth of a rabid dog. "What did you do?! WHERE ARE THEY?!"
Meredith had opened her mouth to say something in response, but then Loren was turning towards her and she couldn’t help but let out a squeak of surprise, of something akin to fear, as she pressed back against the counter, her heart pounding a furious rhythm in the cage of her chest. “I didn’t throw anything away!” she managed to get out, tripping over the words as she gestured towards the counter, the stacks of things that had been handled with care, everything preserved, kept safe. “I just- I’m sorry! Okay? I just-” She gave a sharp shake of her head and reached up to tug on a bit of red hair, fingers abusing the lock of hair for a moment before she glanced back towards Loren, wide-eyed and pale. She hadn’t meant to piss him off, just to be useful if he was giving her a place to stay, a safe place to stay at that.
From the corner of his eye, he noted the stacks of books and the carefully maintained collection of Hannah's notes. He searched the kitchen for other clues, and noted the most irrational, unsettling details in the polished countertops. He noted with something of an ache that the microwave had been emptied of whatever plate of food had been left inside. It was months old and moldy.. but Hannah had left it for him, and so he left it there as part of her tomb. Her shrine, the entire apartment was a tribute to her last day here and now everything was ruined. In a new swarm of chaos, Loren snatched the books from the counter and strategically placed them about the living room as they had once been. The papers were scattered across the counter, a couple pinned to the fridge, one on the coffee table. Throughout all of this, he was silent. A quick glance toward his bedroom showed that the door had not been disturbed, for some reason he'd taken to sticking a broken blue toothpick in the seam where the hinges met the wood.. just in case somebody opened it while he was gone. There was no reason for the paranoia, but it felt old and comfortable and so he did it. If Meredith left his room alone, then at least Hannah's old clothes would still be in the closet. Finally turning on her, the rage subsided to a dull simmer in those husky blue eyes. He didn't crowd her, he could tell that she was frightened and Loren was not in the habit of frightening women - although some distant echo of memory told him that he could, that it was a slippery slope he could fall down all over again. Setting teeth into the edge of his teeth, Loren extended an index finger toward her. "Don't touch her things." There was a pause for deep breath, "You can sleep in my room, I work nights so it shouldn't be a problem. I'll take the couch if you sleep late.."
Meredith was silent as Loren undid what she had apparently wrecked, moving out of his way and ending up, eventually, against the front door, her hands pressed to the wood behind her, fingers flat, her lower lip bit tightly between her teeth. Unconsciously, she held her breath as he rounded on her, thankfully keeping some distance between them so as not to put her even further on edge with the person who was, in so many ways, a stranger to her. Words shared over journals, over phone calls, they didn’t compare to sharing a space together. “I won’t touch anything,” Meredith said softly, though she wondered who the ‘she’ was that he referenced. Someone important to him, obviously, but beyond that, Meredith didn’t want to assume anything. “And I can take the couch. It’s fine. I brought... pillows. I’ll be fine on the couch,” Meredith said quickly, gesturing towards the few bags she had brought with her at her side, fingers fluttering nervously before she tucked her hand again behind her back. His room was his space, and she was intruding enough as it was, she felt.
"You'll take the bed," he corrected her automatically. The words were firm and suggested no room for debate, although his expression wilted into something that neighbored hesitation in the next moment. "I prefer the couch." The couch was where Hannah had slept, and he'd rather take that spot than have this strange girl, the new prey, in Hannah's place. As if the couch itself might somehow be cursed, that's where the dead went to lie on their final resting day. Swallowing, the ice blue of his eyes regarded her from where she stood pressed against the door. A predator to the very bone, he noted a multitude of things in that one glance. Fear, anxiety, fight or flight, uncertainty, the urge perhaps to turn and flee back out the door from whence she came. Loren took a step back although he'd been crowding her in no way, not like the night he'd confronted her in her own kitchen. "I don't think there's any food in the fridge, but feel free to order something.." Reaching into his back pocket, he produced a twenty dollar bill and left it on the counter top. "I'll be leaving for work in a few and.." His eyes trailed to the money on the counter again. "Order online if you can, and slip the money through the mail slot, have him leave the food on the doorstep. Don't let anyone in." There was a pause when he glanced to the haphazard stacks of Hannah's old books on the floor. "Text me when the delivery man arrives, call me.. if.. if you need to, I guess." He swallowed and tried for a smile. Loren's mouth was not one accustomed to smiles, and it didn't quite fit. He was trying to keep her from being paranoid, as he now realized his instructions bordered on lunacy. But sometimes that's what it took to get the job done.
She was ready to press the issue of where she would sleep, but there was something about the look on Loren’s face that had her holding her words and keeping them to herself. There were things she didn’t know about him, about things that had happened, ghosts that haunted him even now. Instead, Meredith listened to his instructions, carefully given and bordering on something obsessive with how he planned to keep her inside. She knew it was for her own safety, her protection, so she didn’t argue the point, simply nodding her head in understanding though she didn’t move away from the door, not yet. Her shoulders did relax slightly, muscles unbunching, tension easing. “I’ll let you know if anything happens,” she said softly, looking down towards the ground. “I’ll... probably just read. I won’t touch anything. Promise.” Glancing back up, she attempted to offer him a smile of her own, though it was cloudy and dark, matching her mood.
“Thank you, for doing this. For... helping me. Keeping me safe,” she said softly. “I really do appreciate it, more than I can probably put into words.”
"I won't let anything happen to you, Meredith." It was more than a promise, it was the kind of vow that one exchanged inside a church. Pausing with uncertainty, Loren moved toward the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge before he started toward his bedroom. "I'll get ready for work, and then you can have the room to yourself." He opened the beer and took a swig while considering. "I have basic cable, and.. I don't know what you like to watch, but I don't have any movies or anything. I mostly watch the news.." Realizing he was rambling, Loren gave her one last look.. and it was a sad thing, like he could already see the end of all this. It didn't end well. Disappearing into the bedroom, he said only one thing before shutting the door. "I'll see you when I'm home from work."