Destiny Alyson Brown (escapingdestiny) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-12-23 14:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | destiny brown, rhiannon lee |
Some Things Never Change
Destiny adjusted her red apron and fixed her hair in the little mirror in the employee lounge. Christmas Eve. Why on God's green Earth was she working on Christmas Eve? She was still the new girl. Everyone still thought she was eighteen and in high school, despite the fact that she, at least the self that had made it here, was in her late twenties. She did, however, get the lucky present of stocking the shelves and tidying up the aisles. What had they called it? Stock control? Damage control? She didn't remember the corporate world technical term for it. What it meant for her, however, was much in the way of hoisting and carrying boxes. Slayer strength helped a lot in this instance.
Destiny stretched her arms out and stretched her one leg at a time parallel to her head. Twenty-four years of Slaying in a young body? Had its perks. She hadn't Slayed in months, but, she promised herself, she would pick it up again after the Christmas rush. The Slayer took a deep breath, smiled for the mirror, and entered into the Christmas-colored, Jingle Bells-playing bookstore proper.
God, I hate Christmas carols.
Jingle Bells was the worst. As she turned the pages of a book in the historical section, Rhiannon tried to tune it out. It was the staying power she didn't like. Hours after she heard the song, it'd be on a loop in her head while she ate dinner, walked the neighborhood, or took a shower. The only thing capable of canceling it out was another song.
Slipping her finger between chapters, the brunette closed the cover and read the back panel of the book on the Gulf War . History was a tricky concept now. It was almost identical, but not quite, and it hadn't been her strong point anyway. She tucked it back in its place and wandered into the horror section, thumbs hooked in the hip pockets of her jeans. At a collection of Stephen King books, she crouched and drummed a light rhythm on the toes of her boots, which she'd long-ago drawn on in silver marker.
Destiny dodged a small child throwing a tantrum in the Children's section and ducked under the ropes to get behind the register bank. The Slayer scooped up a handful of forgotten books from behind the register in the "To Be Reshelved" bin and rifled through her arms to figure out where they went. Ah, lovely. Stephen King. Exactly what everyone wants to read when it's Christmas outside. Though I guess if you take "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" to heart, people do tell "scary ghost stories".
Behind that was a Dora the Explorer book, some new Disney teen sensation board book to indoctrinate the masses to the all powerful Mouse, and a book for expectant mothers. If there was one thing that she did enjoy about her store it was the varied clientele. After living in a desert area whose median age was sixty, she almost didn't mind the small children. Almost.
Poking her head into the Horror aisle, she scanned the shelves for the author. Alphabetical by author... Head down, she didn't notice when she bumped into a figure down near the floor. "Whoops! I'm sorry, ma'am!"
Slapping a palm on the carpet, Rhiannon managed to catch herself. "It's alright," she said. "I'm the one crawling all over the floor." She made sure she hadn't bent or torn the paper cover of Delores Claiborne and found it thankfully undamaged, as she hadn't intended to purchase it. The whole venture into Stephen King land was a way of distracting herself from the greater problem: Less than twenty-four hours until Christmas morning and she had no clue what to give Connor. You're over-thinking it, she told herself for the dozenth time.
Rhiannon glanced up at the brown-haired woman, and then she did a double-take.
Her mouth dropped open. Swallowing, she closed it as quickly as possible and redirected her eyes to the row of books. They skimmed the titles, reading nothing. Her pulse was in her ears all the sudden, louder than the carols on the loudspeaker. It's Destiny... Holy shit. That is definitely Destiny. What the fuck do I do?!
Holy shit, Rhiannon! But is this Rhiannon who knows the past or new Rhiannon? Should she ask? How awkward would that be? "Hi, Rhiannon, remember kicking my ass?" Destiny closed her agape mouth and decided to gird her loins and go for the direct. If she remembered nothing, she could pretend the earpiece she was wearing directed her to another part of the store, then hide in a corner 'til the coast was clear. She just had to phrase it quite right. She bit her lip as her mind raced. She opened her mouth and prayed that what she was going to say was going to be more delicate than what she was thinking.
"Hi, Rhiannon. Remember kicking my ass?" Damn. There was something about Rhiannon that made her feel seventeen again. "Oh, damn it." Also, she had a habit of saying exactly what she was thinking at that exact moment. "That sounded so much better in my head." Liar.
The other Slayer looked up again. Hope sparked in her chest, but she tried not to get carried away. An asskicking could happen anywhere, on any timeline. "That depends," she said, squeezing the paperback. She was definitely bowing it now, definitely damaging the merchandise in front of an employee. "Did it happen here or in Nevada? I forget."
Rhiannon held her breath. It had been years since she saw Destiny, but she missed her, the idea of being able to call her up in New Jersey and ask how things were going, if she was still in school, if she was married yet, if she had been on patrol lately. "There was a slight relocation."
"Nevada, in the year 2009. Regularly, for years afterwards, same place. Then I moved to New Jersey. I was relocated too. My wedding night, for fuck's sake." Destiny sighed, and dropped to her knees next to Rhiannon. "I missed you. I miss Searchlight." She steadied herself on a shelf. "Emmy's not the same." Destiny felt the pinpricks of tears, unbidden, considering how happy she was in the former life. She had accepted all that had transpired. Seeing Emmy had torn her wounds open again, like ripping a scab off. "Have you seen anyone else? I mean, besides me?"
"Hey..." She put her hands on either side of Destiny's neck, just where it met the shoulders, and lightly squeezed. "It's okay." Rhiannon scooted a little closer and smiled, which felt completely inappropriate to her friend's tears, but she couldn't help it. "God, I'm glad to see you." She leaned in and gave a hug. "We're not here alone. Connor came too. I can't even remember if you knew him or not, but he's from home. So are Purity and Izzy."
There were at least five other familiar faces, not counting Emmeline, whom she hadn't even known was in Key West, but it made perfect sense for her to be, if the rest were. Rhiannon didn't mention the others, because some weren't the same people they remembered and that wasn't a positive spin on the situation. Neither was the fact that some were enemies.
"We'll find more," she said instead. The comment about her wedding night hit a sore spot in Rhiannon's chest, but she ignored it. "Destiny, bad shit's always happening to you on important nights, did you ever notice that?" She tried injecting a note of humor into things.
Destiny snorted and hugged Rhiannon back. The feeling was somewhat foreign, as she didn't remember hugging Rhiannon any time recently. "Yeah, my birthday sucked in '03 because of the Scythe thing. I got taken hostage one Christmas, was in a huge battle another Christmas. I lost my virginity to a reanimated corpse I married in Vegas..." Destiny made a face. "Jesus, that sounds disgusting without the backstory, now doesn't it? God, that's not even half the shit I've gone through. Seriously, I can't have a major life event or holiday without some crazy activity or injury or apocalypse. I'm terrified of a Rosemary's Baby type deal when I eventually have children."
Destiny's eyebrows furrowed. "I think I remember you mentioning Purity. Don't remember Izzy. Connor I remember from all of the assigned reading Will gave me about where Slayers come from." Destiny said the last three words in a baby voice, comparing it to "where people come from". She ran her hand through her hair. "Did they remember who they were? Emmy... didn't remember. I don't know what hurt worse. That she didn't remember me or that I remember everything in perfect detail. I mean, how could she not remember Aidan?"
Shaking her head, the Slayer laughed a little. "This crazy doohickey that sent us here... as long as it sticks to alive people, I'll be cool. That'd be all I'd need..." Destiny trailed off, lost in thought. "I guess we're all different now, anyway. We just remember."
After the onslaught of information and questions, Rhiannon decided to pick and choose what she responded to, which were the only really relevant parts. "You know what, Des?" She set the book aside and leaned against the stacks, drawing her knees to her chest. "Everybody's got tragedies. You don't want me to go into the litany of mine. I lost things, too. But I'm trying to look at this whole fucked-up experience as a huge lesson I should've learned a long time ago."
She reached across and tugged a piece of Destiny's hair. "Let it go."
Rhiannon rested her arms atop her knees, fingertips dangling loosely towards the floor. "Also, if I ever hear you refer to the Scythe thing in '03 as 'sucking' again, I'm pulling your Slayer card and calling you That Freakishly Strong Girl, period."
"I get it, Rhiannon. I do. I know you, of everyone I know, have had it hard. I didn't want you to think I was whining. I haven't whined or bitched, really, since I left Searchlight. I'd like to think I matured. I just..." Destiny sighed. "I tend to dwell in the past since I met Em. I revert to younger Destiny around you a lot of times. I feel like this whole thing is tossing things into my face that I thought I had left behind. Like, I hadn't dwelled on the Aidan thing or the scythe or anything like that when I was in New Jersey. I liked who I was. I was over it all, or at least to the point where it didn't loom so heavily."
Destiny joined her on the floor, facing her across the aisle, playing with the carpet. "I liked who I was before I came here. I had my shit together. I feel like it undid a lot of my personal growth by tearing open wounds I thought I had closed. To be honest, it's why I didn't contact you guys or make an attempt to when I was in Jersey. If I was with you, I'd have to face it all again."
Destiny looked up. "I'm not saying being a Slayer sucks, 'cause it's who we are. It's just not fair how much we sacrifice because of who we are."
"Who says it's a sacrifice?" Rhiannon lifted her shoulders. "You don't have to do it. You know that better than anybody, right? I could never guilt you into anything." A smile hitched the corner of her mouth. It was an old bone of contention between the two: Rhiannon, who gratefully tossed over everything to be a Slayer, and Destiny, who just wanted it all back. "We get a choice whether to have the most important job in the world or ignore it. Who else can say that? If you ignore it, I won't even give you a hard time."
She held up her hand, like she was swearing an oath.
"It's funny. You saying you revert to younger Destiny? You're older than me." Rhiannon rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye, smearing her mascara. Little marks like centipede legs stayed on her palm.
"More naive Destiny. I dunno..." Destiny smiled. "I guess some things never change, right? I'm always afraid you're going to kick my ass, we get into the same disagreement about Slaying. If we were in Nevada, we'd then get attacked by vampires, one of us would get injured. The other would grow impatient. The monsters would be vanquished, then we'd go home." Destiny grinned, realizing that Rhiannon was really Rhiannon. "That was my litmus test. You are Rhiannon. I am still Destiny. We still disagree as to our calling. The more things change, the more they stay the same, eh?"
Destiny shook her head and fingered her badge. "I'm going to go back to Slaying. Once the Christmas rush is over, I'll get back into Slaying." It was halfhearted. Without Adam or Aidan or anyone from her old life, she didn't feel the need to Slay as much. Maybe it was depression. A missing sense of direction. A purpose. Destiny was a Slayer. It was probably a reason, if not the reason why she was brought here. She didn't have anything else to give this thing but her life. She gave up her husband. She gave up her education. What else did it want?
Destiny cleared her throat. "To tell you the truth, those years in New Jersey where I was able to be part of a large Slaying taskforce organized by my dad were the best because I didn't have the entire weight of the world on my shoulders. My husband knew nothing about Slaying. And as I got into my thirties, I couldn't slay anymore without injuries. I was ready to retire, have some babies, live the dream."
She stretched out her arm and flexed it, studying the contours of her forearm. "I have the body of an early twenties woman, but the heart of a thirty-year old woman. Is there still a space for me? Do they really need me in the fight against the forces of evil?"
"Okay." Rhiannon held up a finger. "A couple of points. I hope I remember them all, because... Jesus, Des. One. Listen to yourself. 'Once the Christmas rush is over, I'll get back into slaying.' It's not like... tapdancing lessons. If the Christmas rush at Borders is more important to you than staking vamps, maybe--"
Ugh, but that was tricky territory, wasn't it? Suggesting another demon fighter leave her stakes in the closet? To detract from that possibility, Rhiannon moved on.
"Nevermind. Point number two. You've never had the entire weight of the world on your shoulders. Matter of fact, you could've been part of a slaying task force in Nevada. Me and Kris weren't exactly playing around. And three, people are always needed in the fight against evil. We're outnumbered and outgunned, and the only thing keeping the bad guys from wiping us out is the fact that there's in-fighting and they can't organize for shit."
After that, Rhiannon needed a big breath. She straightened out her legs, so that her feet were next to Destiny. "Whatever you decide to do, just... don't be a martyr about it. Back home, Destiny's still living the dream. You know that right? We peeled off from our old selves. We don't belong there anymore."
"It's just hard not to be bitter about it. All of it." Destiny grabbed a piece of paper from her pocket and scrawled her address and number on it. "I figure, before I forget, I should give you my address and cell number and all that." She reached out to Rhiannon.
"Old habits die hard. I don't know how trained I am, but I trust you in that you would tell me straight if I wasn't fit for Slaying after all this time. I mean mentally, not physically. So, one day, we should go out and you should put me through Slayer boot camp. I need something to focus on besides the retail hell I now find myself in."
Destiny smiled. "How are you spending Christmas?"
Rhiannon took the paper. She pulled out her cell phone and shot Destiny a quick text so she'd have her number, too. While she was typing, she wondered what she was supposed to say about being 'fit' for slaying. Wasn't that up to the PTBs to decide? From the looks of things, they had chosen Destiny at least twice to do it, so the raw materials had to be there. It was just a matter of how deeply she sank her heels into the ground and fought it.
"I dunno how you think mental boot camp for Slayers works," Rhiannon said wryly. Anyway.
"I'm spending Christmas at home. This home. I live with Connor, so..." She trailed off, unsure what they would do. A few strands of colorful lights had been suction-cupped around their living room windows, but that was as far as either of them had gone. "I'm actually trying to figure out what to give him. I came in here out of desperation. It never used to be this hard, picking things out for him. I just saw and grabbed."
"I have no damn clue how mental boot camp for Slayers works. I'm just trying to go with the flow. Trying being the operative word here." Destiny's cellphone beeped as she received the text. "Why didn't I think of texting you?" she muttered.
Destiny's ears perked up when she heard about the two living together, but decided not to pry. "I won't bother you two then. I'm working Christmas Day anyway. I need more time to sort out my head." Destiny stood up and held an arm out to Rhiannon. "I can help with the gift idea. I always suggest gift cards or maybe even a CD or DVD if no book thrills you. I sincerely doubt he'd be a fan of Twilight. That Edward fellow is a bit poncy for his tastes."
After shelving the book, Rhiannon grasped her friend's hand and stood up. "I can't give him a gift card. It's too impersonal," she said. No, something that said 'I'm thinking of you' and also 'I know you' without embarrassing the hell out of him. What did you give a guy that used to collect parts off the demons he killed? Who wore his old tennis shoes until the soles flapped like talking mouths? Back in Chicago, she would've handed him a weapon and called it good.
"We're thinking of having a New Year's get-together at the house. If we can't get it together for that night, then some other time soon. Would you want to come?" Rhiannon walked up the aisle with her.
"Of course I'd love to go, if you'll have me." Destiny figured she'd be no help in this gifting instance.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth that her walkie talkie blared to life. "Destiny? Cleanup in Children's. ASAP."
Destiny looked at Rhiannon apologetically. "Duty calls."
"Do your thing." The possibilities of what 'clean-up' could mean in the children's section loomed frightening and maybe gross. She tried not to scowl at the imagery. "I'll call you, okay? Bye." She reached out and squeezed Destiny's wrist, then let go. She backed a couple of steps, keeping her friend in sight until the stacks got in the way, then Rhiannon turned around and opened her phone again, intent on texting a message to all the necessary people. 'Another familiar face from NV.'