leonard slater. (deskjockey) wrote in incheck, @ 2010-08-23 23:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !phonelog, leonard slater, mira slater |
Phone Log: Ghost and Leonard Slater
Who: Mira and Leonard Slater.
When: Late Monday evening.
What: An attempt at communication.
It wasn't the first time that Leonard had gone into his study, locked the door, and called his wife. The kids were both in bed, the house nearly silent except for the usual dim noises of a home -- the refrigerator's low hum, the faint waves of traffic occasionally rising outside the locked windows, the air conditioning unit clicking on. One of those lonely quiet nights, when Leonard was all too aware that his wife was absent. It wasn't the same absence with a promise of return that he was used to, the odd tension that hung in the air and sometimes threatened to snap inside of him, giving way to the pressure of worry and aching distress that couldn't be tempered by common sense or reasoning. This was a bleaker sort of loneliness. Leonard knew his wife well. They'd been married for a long time, and he'd come to know her habits and mannerisms well long before she'd let him into her confidence. Mira needed time and space. She would be impossible to find until she was ready to be found. He'd fallen in love with a woman who was difficult to tie down, much less wrangle into anything that she wasn't prepared to face; Leonard could be patient, knowing full well that she deserved every consideration on his behalf, but he knew when to stop waiting and take action. His marriage was not the many-headed beast of the Agency, which needed to be reined in with a hard hand as often as it needed its freedom. He had to act on his emotions rather than his instinct here. Anything less than complete sincerity was unacceptable. Leonard had that in him. She was the only person who he'd ever wanted to share his life with, they had a family together, and he knew that his straying attention and weaknesses didn't do justice to the amount of love he had for Mira. The very least that he could do was focus on these truths to guide him. No manipulations, no damage control. She'd see through attempts at corralling her. He wasn't sure what, exactly, it would take to get through to her, but he would never pick up the phone with doubt or hesitation as he hit the auto dial. He didn't expect her to pick up this time, any more than he had the other times. The problem with a conversation was that it had to be initiated before it could be had. She surely must have noticed the accrued attempts, missed calls, and noted his unflagging determination at the very least; if nothing else, this try could be just that, another tiny bit of evidence that he cared. That he was finished with giving her room to breathe and wanted her to turn around, to face him like two adults who had been married long enough to owe each other at least an honest conversation. |