InsaneJournal

WHO: Vince Faraday and ‘Orwell’ (Jamie Fleming)
WHAT: Vince asked a question. Jamie wanted to answer in person. This is the result.
WHEN: Not long after Vince’s arrival.
WHERE: Jamie’s apartment
RATING: PG.
STATUS: Complete.

Back home, the last time they had spoken, Orwell had been...off, for lack of a better word. Vince had realized it but hadn’t had the opportunity to follow up on it before finding himself here. So it was really no great surprise, he supposed, that Orwell also seemed a bit off here. They were from presumably around the same time and whatever she was going through clearly wasn’t something she could just shake off overnight.

However his concern had halted, before slowly morphing into suspicion and wariness, when she had insisted they speak in person about the news that Fleming had a kid. That, he knew, wasn’t right. If she had known, why had she written the option of using that kid off so quickly? Why hadn’t she even mentioned it to him? Vince didn’t trust easily, not after what had happened to him, and it was starting to feel as though every time he did put his trust in this woman, she did something that made him question if he’d made a mistake. This latest offense wasn’t really much of one, granted, but when it came to Peter Fleming, Vince didn’t consider any idea that could even the playing field against him a bit to be easily cast aside and forgotten.

Of course, he had said he would reserve his worry until he’d given Orwell a chance to explain. Which is precisely what he was doing as he made his way to the apartment number she’d given him. He was doing his absolute best not to jump to conclusions, hoping it was nothing. Maybe the kid was locked away in an institution. Maybe Peter had cut him, or her, out of his life. The possibilities were endless when dealing with an amoral monster. So he would wait to judge. He would hear her out and try to understand why she had kept something so massive from him. For now, he just knocked and waited for someone to answer the door. He’d get to the rest soon enough. Because yes, he’d said he’d wait to judge. He did not, however, say he’d be patient about it.

With that thought in mind, Vince knocked yet again.

She had to tell him.

Circumstances had made it clear to Jamie that she couldn’t hide the truth about herself from Vince any longer. There were too many variables in this city, too many unknown factors, to keep it a secret. If she tried, he would find out another way and she would have lost his trust forever. Vince was important to her, the closest thing to a friend she’d had in too long, and she didn’t want to lose that. She couldn’t. Besides, he deserved the truth, and he deserved it from her. If, after that, he wanted nothing to do with her, then so be it. At least she could feel comfortable in the knowledge that she had been honest. Because that’s why Orwell existed. To create honesty and transparency. She was nothing but a hypocrite if she persisted in lying to her closest friend and ally.

But knowing all of that didn’t make it any easier. Her past and her family were things she’d kept locked up tight for so long that the prospect of sharing them terrified her. As much as she knew she had to do this, she didn’t want to. She couldn’t even think of how to go about it. After all, “Surprise! I’m the daughter of the man who destroyed your life!” wasn’t exactly something you could go dropping in between comments about the weather and asking if someone wanted a cup of coffee. She had to handle this delicately, and she felt completely out of her depth.

The knock to the door startled her and she took a moment to compose herself, just closing her eyes and breathing, before she did anything else. Then she smoothed out the white dress she was wearing, tucked her hair behind her ear, and answered the door.

“Hi, Vince,” she said cautiously. “Come on in.”

Her cautiousness set him even more on edge but Vince did his best not to let it show. Stepping inside, he cast a quick glance around the apartment before turning his attention fully to the woman in front of him. There was a brief flash of concern but it, too, was quelled in lieu of finding out what it was she wanted to say. However when he opened his mouth to dispense with the pleasantries, instead he found himself asking something wholly unexpected.

“What’s the last thing you remember from home before you wound up here?” he questioned curiously, shutting the door and sliding the deadbolt into place without even thinking about it. He looked back to her. “I keep hearing how people are from different points in time; call me curious.”

Jamie had expected him to get right to the point, given his preoccupation with destroying Fleming. She couldn’t imagine anything that would take precedence over a possible weapon in his fight to get his life back. So his question surprised her, something she couldn’t quite hide. Her eyes widened and she was quiet for a long moment. Thinking about what had happened was still hard, and she suspected it would be a while before she was able to think about it without the associated jolt of terror...if she ever could. Maybe this would stay with her forever, never giving her peace.

“You saved me,” she said softly, turning away from him. Her hands fidgeted momentarily in an absent, nervous gesture before she wrapped her arms around herself. “You saved me and Max gave me tea...or something vaguely tea-like. He was very kind. I told him I was Orwell...he seemed surprised. I guess they expect someone taller.”

Vince nodded, his gaze once more sliding to the various decorations scattered around the room as he let his mind process what she’d said. She was from before he was, it seemed. Not very long though. He was glad about that much and, in a way, relieved she wasn’t the one from after his time. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of someone knowing things about his future, even if it was someone he trusted.

Finally turning back to face her, he decided to get right down to business. Although first he did take a moment to explain why he’d asked. “We aren’t from too far apart,” he said. “I wanted to be sure, to make sure one of us didn’t mention something the other wouldn’t really know about yet.” He paused and snorted softly, his tone dry as he added, “The sort of things you never think about until you’ve crossed into the Twilight Zone.” With a shake of his head, Vince didn’t miss a beat.

“So, you said you knew Fleming had a kid. I’m still waiting for an explanation on that one.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or did you want to sit down first?” he asked, motioning vaguely in the direction of her living room. He wasn’t sure how long or sordid this tale might be.

“I thought that would probably be the case,” Jamie said after a moment. “After all, I was here before you would, and obviously time wouldn’t stop just because I’m here. That would just be silly.” She was quiet for a moment, then looked back at him and continued. “Was everything all right? Were you okay, I mean. And everyone? I don’t like not knowing what’s happening back there. It makes me worry.” It made her feel helpless, and she didn’t like that. She’d felt all too helpless lately.

“You can tell me,” she assured him. “All signs point to us not remembering when we go back, so it won’t affect any timelines or make the universe collapse or anything.” She gave a soft, slightly awkward laugh. “This whole situation is just...insane. It defies all logic. We’re talking about being in a parallel universe on another planet, and we’re worrying about timelines. This is just...completely insane.” She was smiling, but her expression quickly became serious again as they moved on to the reason he had come. She knew it couldn’t be avoided forever, and she felt it best to get this all out quickly. Like ripping off a band aid.

Walking into the kitchen, she got herself a glass of water and then sat down on her sofa, taking a sip before speaking. “I knew about Fleming’s daughter,” she began. Daughter, not child or kid or any other neutral word. “I just didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell you yet. You can be a loose canon, Vince. I’m sorry...but it’s true. And I wasn’t sure if your desire to be with your family would get the best of you...and I didn’t want you using her. To get to Fleming. But...I think that you won’t. You’re a good person, Vince. And I’m telling you this because I trust you to do the right thing...and because I believe in you.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Peter Fleming has one child,” she said. “A daughter. Jamie. She was born in 1985...so she’s twenty-five now.” She took another sip of water, then set it on the table, neatly in the center of one of the coasters. She settled her hands in her lap and continued. “In...in 1994, Fleming’s wife, Alison, died. It was his fault. She probably blamed him for it, considering she ran away in 2001, when she was sixteen. She disappeared completely, shortly after that. Not a trace.” This was where it got complicated.

“You’re a smart man, Vince,” she told him. “I don’t have to tell you the rest.”

Vince listened closely, his brow furrowing more and more with each passing word. He was sitting forward in his seat, resting on the edge of the cushion, elbows bent and on his knees. When she stopped, finally, he was still for a very long moment as his mind whirled to keep up. Bit by bit, the pieces began to fall into place.

Twenty-five. Jamie Fleming was twenty-five. He studied the woman in front of him closely. She used to like getting her nails done. She drove a car she shouldn’t be able to afford and had equipment most private investigators would give their right arm and a second mortgage on their house to get. She had daddy issues. Major ones. She wouldn’t offer any personal information, wouldn’t reveal a single thing about herself. She...

She was Jamie Fleming.

The thought made him sit up straight, eyes widening a bit as he stared openly, with dawning horror. Orwell, a woman he had thought he could trust, the very same woman who had led him to the docks that night, was the daughter of the very man responsible for it all. She was Jamie Fleming.

On his feet in an instant, Vince swallowed past the nausea that washed over him. “No,” he said as he shook his head, stumbling blindly away from her. “No!” He had to remind himself to breathe. He jumped when he felt the wall against his back but didn’t keep trying to move at least. He simply shook his head, refusing to even consider the very thing he knew now to be true.

“If this is your idea of a joke...” He choked on his words and sucked in a deep breath through his nose, lips pursed a bit as he exhaled slowly. Bending over, hands resting on his thighs, Vince stared at the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Not for a few moments. Finally, he managed, stomach churning at the very sight.

“This is not happening,” he finally announced as he stepped away from the wall. “You are not laying this on me. Not here, not now. No.”

It was going just as well as she had imagined it would, which was not at all. He probably hated her right now, and he had every reason to. She had betrayed him. It wasn’t in the way he probably thought, but she had betrayed his trust. She felt a dizzying combination of worry, fear and guilt, and if she hadn’t been sitting, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stay upright. “Vince-” she began, voice soft and shaky, but she immediately stopped. She didn’t have any right to ask his forgiveness.

She reached for her water, needing to get rid of the desert that had suddenly formed in her throat, but she only succeeded in knocking over the glass. She pulled back quickly, and took deep breaths to calm herself. She just needed to stay calm. Even though everything seemed to be falling apart around her, she needed to stay calm. “It’s not a joke, Vince,” she said finally. “It’s not...I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Vince! But you asked and I...I couldn’t lie to you.” Her hands were shaking and she tightened them into fists to reign in the nervous tension that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she said, “but I’ve been running from my father for almost a decade. I can’t...I can’t risk letting people know that. And I wanted to tell you...I did...but by now it’s second nature. But I swear, Vince, I have never lied to you. Everything I told you was the truth. Even the part about being Julia. I created a new identity to hide from him and...it’s been who I am for years now. I never lied...I just left things out.” She looked down at her hands. “I want him stopped as much as you do. More. I promise, Vince...I’ve only ever wanted to help you.”

Running a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself and failing rather spectacularly at it, Vince continued to focus on his breathing. He scoffed at her words. The part of him that recognized their sincerity seemed very far away at the moment, drowned out by the sense of betrayal that was threatening to swallow him whole. He closed his eyes, his head lulling back and banging against the wall with a muted ‘thud’.

“You didn’t lie,” he said finally. His tone was hard, clipped and wavering with fury. His eyes opened, gaze snapping instantly to Orwell - Jamie’s - face. “You just omitted the truth. That’s definitely better. Of course. How silly of me!” He snorted and shoved away from the wall, hands balled into fists at his sides. He paced back and forth, lips pressed together to form a thin line. When he stopped, he looked back to her and finally just... stopped. His shoulders slumped, anger gave way to a look of exhaustion.

“I need to go,” he said. “I can’t... between this city, Fleming, and now this, I can’t...” He stopped speaking, shook his head, and made his way toward the door. He paused in the doorway, his back straight and attention directly in front of him. He didn’t dare look at Jamie but it was clear he had something more to say. Whatever it was, though, he decided against it. Instead he just sighed heavily and quietly left the room.

Jamie didn’t even know how to react. Vince hated her, and with good reason. She wanted to stop him, to beg him to stay or to forgive her or something, but he clearly needed to leave and she didn’t want to hurt him any more. So she watched him go, eyes wide and hands unsteady. She was silent and still for a long moment, eyes fixed on the door as if hoping Vince would come back, before she finally gave up and acknowledged he wasn’t going to come back. Maybe not ever.

She felt utterly, terribly alone. Vince had been the one person on whom she could always rely and now that was ruined. And now she was alone again, but this time she had gotten used to that sort of companionship and she was left feeling empty. The room felt too big and the door that constantly hovered on the edge of her vision was an overwhelming presence. She felt like she was going to break, and she didn’t know if she could put herself back together. Pulling her legs up onto the couch, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in her knees as if to hide from the outside world, she curled in on herself and began to sob.