Re: Kori and Mike
Mike had tried Grand Central, Federal Hall, and the Public Library. No Kori. No Stones.
Nobody.
It had been ten days since he'd registered with the safehouses, and nothing had come of it except a growing sense of dissapointment. Fortunately, being Mike, that only meant he tried harder: wandering the hallways and sneaking past bedrolls, spying on blondes and interrogating strangers about whether they knew a Stone family, anyone called Stone. He'd heard rumors of at least one or two people with either that name or something similar, possibly located at Madison Square. So far, Michael had ignored all of the suggestions that'd been made to him as an Immune -- gathering, watch duties -- in order to follow this lead. He'd search every damn corner of these safehouses four times over until something came up, and then he'd go back out into the city. Mike was a determined soul. He wasn't willing to accept that Kori might be...
Dead.
Or dead-ish. He couldn't stand to even think about it.
Madison Square had a different feel to it than the other three safehouses. Probably had something to do with the Christmas decorations. God, Mike thought, taking it all in with childishly wide eyes. Federal Hall had had that nice lady scrubbing the damn floor, and Madison Square had a Christmas tree? With presents? And happy children?
If Mike had known that life in these safehouses was organized and protected enough that people had time to think about these things, he would've come in ten thousand times sooner. Screw the government.
There's even a fuckin snack table, he thought in awe. He was about to open his mouth and ask who was responsible for all of this when something... Happened.
He saw Kori. Or maybe it was more like -- sensing Kori. As if everything in him suddenly became aware, snapping to life, at the sound of her voice calling after the children. He hadn't even registered what it was she'd said -- only that it was her voice, and that she was...
Right there. Before Michael even had time to consider what he was doing or the fact that it had been five years, he was pushing through the group to reach her. His heart was pounding, and he thought his face might split apart for the smile on his face. Five years, he thought. This wasn't the time to stop and think about how best to go about things.
"That you, baby?" He called out shakily, when he'd made it halfway to her. His voice cracked, he was so relieved. There were even tears in his eyes; he could feel them even, threatening to fall, but he was beyond caring.