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Gwen Dailey; Oracle (digitaldelphi) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-29 19:17:00

WHO: Gwen and Isobel
WHAT: Trying to piece together the missing parts of Isobel’s memories
WHERE: Isobel’s Apartment (old and new)
WHEN: Vague Time Alert: A few days ago
WARNINGS: None!

Gwen knocked quietly on Isobel’s door and waited to see if she was home. She supposed that she should’ve called first, but truth be told, she was half hoping the other woman wouldn’t be home. She had been dreading this meeting. She knew it had to happen. There was no way around it. And yet she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more than leave.

What was she supposed to say? Isobel apparently didn’t remember much of what happened to them and Gwen only knew very little. Would she provide any real insight as to what happened to Isobel after they left the bank? Was it really better that she knew what happened there in the first place? If her own memory restructuring was anything to go by, one clue would lead to others, and so on. Then again, Bishop always did enjoy putting the veil over her eyes only to remove it later, and watch how she reacted to the knowledge of what happened when she wasn’t herself. She doubted that Isobel provided the same entertainment for him, and Gwen wondered if Isobel’s memory loss was more permanent. She wondered if it was better that way.

Still, there was that third person to think about and the only one who could provide some insight would be the woman behind the door. There was no immediate answer and Gwen knocked again, softer and still a little hopeful that she wouldn’t have to face the other woman today.

A bag of groceries were in her hands as she moved up the stairs, heading back up to the fifth floor and the apartment she was sharing with Eli. Something caught her attention on her own floor, however, and she paused, peering down the hall and trying to make out the person standing in front of one of the doors. “Gwen?” she asked uncertainly, stepping further down the hallway, a smile coming to her lips. “Were you looking for me?

Gwen was about to turn and leave when she heard her name being called from the stairs. There was the woman she was looking for, no way of ducking out and pretending she hadn’t been there. So she waved her fingers in greeting sheepishly, her other hand tucking her hair nervously over her ear. “I was. I thought I’d come by for a surprise visit.” Unannounced and on her own two feet. How was that for surprising?

“Well, it’s a good thing I was on my way up. I’ve moved. And am moving again, shortly, I believe. Come on. I’m up on the fifth floor now.” And Isobel inclined her head to the stairs to lead the way. “The walking thing is new, isn’t it? How long since that happened?” And who was responsible, she wondered, but that question went unasked for the moment. There was a time and place for some conversations, and the hallway and stairs were not the place for this one.

Gwen’s polite smile only tightened at the question about her walking. “It’s a long story. I really should tell you about it,” she replied cryptically as she followed Isobel up the stairs. The other woman really didn’t remember. This was not going to go well.

Isobel passed a worried look towards Gwen as they ascended the stairs, but she didn’t question further as she unlocked the door and ushered Gwen within. “When... did that happen? I mean... uhm.” Isobel laughed nervously and ushered her further in, closing the door soundly behind her. “That’s great! To see you up!” And then the awkwardness came flying in, full force, and Isobel could only press herself against the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet in nervousness.

“It’s really good to see you too,” Gwen offered sincerely, her worry the only reason why she was hesitating. When she stepped into the apartment she shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets, jumping slightly when the door slammed shut behind them. She let out a little squeak before immediately dissolving into a soft laugh. There wasn’t anything wrong. She would have to remember how to be less jumpy.

“It happened a few weeks ago,” she offered slowly, tucking her hair behind her. “Is it really that surprising?” It was a silly question to ask and it slipped out before she could stop it. She tried to cover it up with a shake of her head. “It’s weird looking in the mirror sometimes. I thought being without glasses was bad.”

Isobel couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, pushing away from the door and coming up closer towards Gwen, her smile truthful. “It’s a good look on you. Both the standing and the non-glasses look. Glad I’m responsible for one of those!” She laughed again and stepped away, moving towards the kitchen. “Dare I ask who was responsible for the other?”

Gwen’s echoing laugh was softer, a little more strained. “It’s a... well I wouldn’t call it funny. But it’s a story.” She followed Isobel to the kitchen, leaning up against the doorframe as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know how exactly to say it, so I just will. It was you. You did both.”

The groceries were put away and the bag stowed beneath the sink, and then she was rifling through the cupboards for plates, intending on sharing some of the cinnamon rolls she had baked that weekend, when Gwen’s explanation was heard. Fingers froze, and it was all she could do to not drop the plate in surprise. Steeling her nerves and emotions, Isobel pulled a plate down and sat it firmly on the counter, closing the cupboard gently. “Me?” she asked a moment later, turning slowly to look back towards Gwen, her smile not as confident or easy as it had been earlier. Her stomach had a weird feeling, a rolling, fluttering sensation that was not at all pleasant.

Trying to push it aside, at least for the moment, Isobel turned back around, reaching for one of the pans of rolls, peeling the cling film away from the gooey bread. “Please tell me you’d like a cinnamon roll?” Isobel asked, trying to make light of the situation. “We’ve been drowning in them since last weekend, and I’ve still got two pans in the freezer!” She laughed, shaking her head at herself as she pried one from the pan and sat it on the plate, turning back towards Gwen with a hesitant smile, the plate held out in offering.

Gwen couldn’t tell how much time had passed, not when every felt like it was suddenly in slow motion. She watched Isobel with a keen eye, taking in her reaction to her confession, and felt herself respond the same way. She also went taut, her entire world suddenly rocked because whatever Isobel would say or do next would matter so very completely. “Yes, you.” She confirmed with a nod of her head, and somehow she knew they both felt that uneasiness. She thought her face mirrored Isobel’s perfectly.

And just like that it was almost gone, shoved to the side in favor of something more palatable. Cinnamon rolls, in this case. “Sure?” Gwen agreed meekly, unable to say no when she was already doing so much damage. “Who’s we?” She practically kicked herself for knowing so little of Isobel’s life, and she wondered how much of it was disrupted because she entered it.

Isobel wasn’t entirely sure what to think on this revelation, and she kept hoping Gwen would start laughing and say that it was all some big joke. But the joke never came, but at least the offer of the cinnamon roll didn’t go rejected. Forcing a smile, Isobel moved back to the hall, heading down towards her bedroom. “My cousin and I. I moved in with him after... I got back. He’s staying in the living room for now until we can get a two bedroom. So I’d say we could sit on the couch, but that might be awkward since it’s his bed right now.” There was a laugh then, hollow and tight.

Leading the way down the hall, she pushed the bedroom door open and gestured Gwen inside. The room was neat, the bed made, everything picked up, and Isobel sat down heavily on the bed, hands folding together between her knees. Once Gwen was situated as well, Isobel glanced towards her, just looking at her for a long moment. “So. I’m responsible for you walking?” she said quietly, her eyes wide.

Gwen knew there were several reasons a woman would move in with her relatives, even so suddenly, but she couldn’t help but worry that it was the ordeal that made Isobel seek out her family like this. She had a hard time being in her apartment, especially with the constant absence of Quinn. Darwin wasn’t around much and she spent most of her time alone. She could understand the need to live with someone else.

She was quiet as she was led around to the bedroom and only when she sat on the bed did she finally start nodding. “Yes. It was you. You said you remembered me calling you the night of blackout? Do you remember me asking you to meet me?”

Isobel was just as quiet herself as she tried to mull over what Gwen was saying in her confused head. “Uhm...” she started, folding her hands together, squeezing, and then relaxing them against her thighs. “I think so?” Her lips turned into a frown, and Isobel rose, pacing the room, trying to work through her thoughts. When she spoke next, her voice was quiet, steady. “You called me and asked me to meet. Said... it was important. And you sent someone up to-.” She stopped then, turning towards Gwen, swallowing hard.

“I remember a Charles. He... grabbed me. Pulled me downstairs, into a car? And then it’s... black.” Isobel squeezed her eyes shut and sank down to sit heavily where she had been standing, burying her face in her hands. Things were coming back, bit by painful bit, but at least that night was back again.

Gwen nodded slowly, encouragingly, wanting to see where Isobel would lead without any direction from her. She remembered more than what she had said earlier, which was both helpful and distressing. The expression across her face said as much.

And when Isobel hid her face in her hands, Gwen reached out to gently rub her back. It was an instinctive gesture, though she wondered if it would help or hurt more once she said what happened next. “They brought you to the bank downtown after that. I was already brought in there and they put you in the cell next to me.” She let her words flow softly and slowly, explaining but being very vague. Perhaps if she just nudged a little, Isobel would be able to fill in the gaps. “Do you remember that? What it looked like? Or who came down to us later?”

The rubbing of her back was soothing, needed, something to keep her calm as the memories trickled back through a dam that had started to crack. “The pictures on the news. That’s... where we were. Those...” A shudder ran through her and she pulled in a breath, her hands falling away from her face as she looked back towards Gwen. “They were old. Dirty. And someone came downstairs later. He...” She trailed off, gaze finding the floor. One hand rubbed her other arm in phantom memory. “They gave me something. And then things were... I had no control.” Her brow creased down, the colour draining from her face and she lifted her eyes once more to look at Gwen.

“They made me. He made me. Heal your back. I couldn’t even fight him!”

“No,” Gwen reminded her sadly. “Neither of us could. The serum they injected us with made sure of that.” She paused to let Isobel collect her thoughts and memories but didn’t stop her reassurances. It was a cruel thing to be making her remember all of this, but necessary. At least, that’s what Gwen was telling herself. “Afterwards the strain made you faint. And Bishop made me go to sleep.” It sounded almost funny to say it aloud but Isobel would understand. Whatever Bishop said, they did. “And then I never saw you again. When I woke up, he and I were somewhere else and...” She trailed off dismissively. Isobel didn’t need to know the details of her experience.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” she continued on softly. “I don’t know where Charles took you or what happened, but I’ve been lead to believe that someone else might have been with you. Maybe back under the bank?” Gwen couldn’t delve too much into who told her this but hopefully Isobel wouldn’t ask.

Hearing it from Gwen’s lips somehow made it all that more real, and Isobel wasn’t entirely sure she could cope with it. So she shoveled as much of it back as she could without shutting herself down completely. “It wasn’t under the bank,” she said quietly, pushing one hand through her hair. “Uhm. Eli. He said he got a memory from someone during that... thing - speaking of which, I think... I got something from you. I haven’t told anyone that.” These were better memories, something that didn’t make her heart pound and her blood rush. “After we got rid of your glasses. How happy you were.” Isobel had to smile then, turning to look towards Gwen, shifting until she was on her knees in front of her. “You were so happy. I can’t even comprehend how that felt.”

Gwen smiled very faintly in return, though not insincerely. “I had one of you too. That day we met. You were pretty happy yourself.” It faded slightly as she added. “If I had ever known it would’ve gone this way, I never would’ve shown up at your apartment then.” Isobel was no vigilante, she would have never come up on Bishop’s radar. The only reason, at least in Gwen’s mind, why she was abducted was purely because of knowing her. “I can’t even tell you how sorry I am, Isobel. For getting you caught up in this mess.”

There was a shake of her head then, and slowly, she rose up on her knees, moving closer towards her to give Gwen a hug, tight and warm. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t blame you at all for it. I really don’t.” Isobel smiled to herself, pulling back a little, hands sliding down to give Gwen’s a squeeze. “We both made it through it, right? And you were right. There... was someone else there. He made it through it too. So. It’s fine. It’s all good.” Her smile might have been a bit forced, a bit wider than was necessary, but she wasn’t lying, just exaggerating how fine she really was.

Pulling her hands away, Isobel settled back down on her knees, letting out a long breath, some of the tension falling away from her. “Do you know what happened afterwards? What I thought had happened?”

They did both make it through the ordeal but Gwen knew they were both struggling in their own way with the effects. Her smile in turn was a little forced as well. “Do you remember who it was? The man you were with?” Even if he was as fine as Isobel said, she still wanted to check in on him all the same. “I was told that you were had some false memories in place. What were they about?”

Isobel gave a small nod of her head, but stopped after a moment, her brow furrowing down slightly. “I met him. But... I don’t know his name. He... I think he’s a very private person. I wish I knew more.” Isobel frowned, her shoulders sinking down slightly, looking back down towards her lap.

“After it was all over, I thought I had been in Hawaii with him. The guy. I woke up in a hotel room, alone, and that’s what I thought had happened.” She gave a short laugh. “They should have known something like that wouldn’t hold water...”

The description wasn’t much help but Gwen was appreciative all the same. She’d keep a look out - she was always keeping a look out, even when she promised herself and others she was done with it - but at least it narrowed down the field somewhat.

“Did they tell you that he’s dead?” she offered gently. “Bishop, I mean. Bishop’s dead now.” She wasn’t sure what information had passed back to Isobel, or even how her condition got back to the blonde woman. But Isobel had a right to know this, even if it offered her little comfort. It certainly wasn’t offering Gwen any.

That gave her reason to blink, looking towards Gwen with widened eyes. “No, I didn’t know he was dead. The other guy that was with him... that guy that picked me up? Is he dead as well?” Isobel chewed on her lip at the thought, her brows furrowing down slightly.

Gwen shook her head, though her eyes flashed from wary to worried before she tried to hide it. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But they will get him.” There at least came the absolute determination. She didn’t think that Charles had any reason to come back to them. From what she observed, it had always been Bishop in charge. But even if that wasn’t the case, she would get to the bottom of this. She would stay alert. “He won’t do this to anyone again. And he won’t come after you.”

Silence came at that, and Isobel scooted over towards the bed, leaning her back against the side of the mattress, right next to Gwen’s legs. “I’m not afraid of him coming after me again, not really,” Isobel said. “It’s just what happened. Being... trapped like that. I don’t do well with things like that, not at all.” She pulled her legs to her chest, hugging them there with both arms. “Have I ever told you how I was raised?” Isobel leaned her head back to look towards Gwen then. “If you’re interested, I mean. I don’t mean to get all me me me right now, but...” Isobel trailed off, turning away and leaning her head back against her folded knees, closing her eyes.

Gwen understood that, at least in theory. Hindered movement, that trapped and helpless feeling, was something she had struggled with when she first was paralyzed, growing less extreme as the years went by. Restoring her legs but shackling her mind had brought all those same fears and feelings back, even worse than before.

“I’d like to hear it,” she asked. She wanted nothing more than to stop her thoughts running around, trying to analyze and over analyze everything. She guessed Isobel had some sort of sheltered childhood, though the fact that she was discussing her upbringing when they were just discussing feelings of entrapment didn’t bode well.

Isobel drew in a breath and released it, trying to relax, to let some of the tension drain from her arms and shoulders. It wasn’t working very well, but it had been worth a try. Hugging her knees tighter, she rocked forward slightly, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “I was kidnapped as a baby. I don’t remember that at all; I was too young. But I grew up, never leaving my moth- Estella’s house. She kept me in her basement and that’s where I lived and learned and played and everything else. The outside world was full of scary things, things that would want to hurt me, according to her, so, I never questioned it. But my real mom found me, right after I turned eighteen. And she sent me over right after that to keep Estella from finding me or anything like that.” Her shoulders shrugged up slightly. “Being trapped like that? Was just like returning to when I was younger, and it terrified me.” A shiver ran through her and she uncurled slightly, looking back up towards Gwen.

“It’s been hard. Since I came back. I don’t feel like I’m the same person anymore.” Isobel tried a smile, but it faltered almost immediately and she laughed, shaking her head. “Try some of the cinnamon roll. They’re good, but I’m biased.” Some sweet, something delicious, something to counteract all the sadness.

Gwen smiled faintly as she took on one of the offered cinnamon rolls, still deep in thought as to what Isobel had just told her. She worked with a lot of people in bad situations back in Musings, her daughter being one of them. Isobel’s story resonated, though there was only the slightest tightening in her jaw to show it. She was quiet through out and as she ate, trying to mull over what to say.

“You aren’t the same person,” she said simply, and though she felt it was unfair to say, Gwen also thought she was the only person who could ever really say it to her. Perhaps that third, mysterious person as well. “We’ve changed. Experiences, all of them, change people and in our case, it was a terrible experience that’s now shaping us. And we’re home now and we want things to go back to how they used to be and sometimes it feels really close, and sometimes it feels very far off the mark. But it’ll get better. Definitely better than today. Maybe even better than it was before. Take it from someone who knows.” She raised a hand to stave off any interruptions. “Not just because of the Bishop. But as someone who’s had to rearrange her entire life because of a terrible experience before.” Though she never did tell Isobel how she ended up in the wheelchair, she didn’t think she had to elaborate on what she was referring to. “You’re a strong woman, Isobel. I saw you try to fight him and the serum. You survived him. You survived your childhood. You’ll survive this.”

Gwen’s words held an enormous amount of comfort in them, and even though she was realistic and not fanciful, no shallow promises of everything being peachy keen with just a little time, Isobel felt better hearing what was said. “Survivors,” she echoed, legs unfolding to stretch out in front of her, toeing off her shoes one by one.

Silent for a while, Isobel wasn’t sure what to say. There was a lot to think about, the revelations that Gwen had brought forward from the time they had shared beneath the bank, and even revelations about her own strength. She still wasn’t sure that she was as strong of a person as Gwen made her out to be, but there was no room for arguments then and there. “I’m glad you stopped by. I can’t talk about this with anyone. No one really understands. But... you were there. So you know. Eli doesn’t know. Ray...” Isobel trailed off, not wanting to get into that right then. So she changed the subject clumsily.

“Cinnamon rolls any good?” Isobel asked, twisting around so she could look at Gwen again before she hauled herself back up onto the bed to simply sit beside her.

In all her worry about saying the right thing, Gwen had completely forgotten the one thing she could say easily. “Very good,” she complimented the other woman, and took another bite of the cinnamon roll. “You’re a much better cook than I am.” Another few quiet moments ticked by before she added,” I’m just downstairs if you need anything. Day or night. I’m not really sleeping very much.” She smiled a little humorlessly to herself at that. “I can’t guarantee you’ll feel any better about it, or that I will be any help. But I’m here if you need me.”

“I had a long time to practice,” Isobel said with half a smile, tucking her hands between her knees as she listened, nodding in understanding. “I don’t sleep much either. So I might take you up on that sometime.” Silence lingered for a while then, and she shifted slightly on the bed, angling herself towards Gwen. “Thank you. For... for everything. It means a lot knowing someone else is there. I just hope I don’t bother you too much. I still don’t know how to read people well and... I don’t know when to back off sometimes.”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Compared to the people I’m used to dealing with, you’re a breath of fresh air.” Oh some of the masks were fine, but then there were certainly others with less than ideal people skills. Even thinking on them now made her smile softly, ready to laugh but unable to let Isobel in on the joke. “I should go,” she sighed softly as she began to rise from her seat. “I think I’ve taken up too much of your time already. But thank you. For the cinnamon rolls.” It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize for coming and burdening her with this knowledge but Gwen refrained. She had to believe she did the right thing, that she didn’t make things worse.

Every meeting had to come to an end eventually, Isobel was smart enough to recognize that, but still hearing that Gwen was leaving thrust a pang of anticipated loneliness through her. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Isobel said, rising to her feet as Gwen did. “And... you’re welcome. If you ever want anymore... or just to talk, well.” She forced a smile, padding off towards the bedroom door, leading the way back to the front door. Once there, she looked at Gwen again, her smile a bit less forced, more honest and real.

“Be safe. And if I can ever help you again, let me know. I mean that.” Isobel’s shoulders hunched up a little bit before she simply nodded to nothing in particular and opened the door for Gwen, sparing her the awkwardness of making the next move to leave.

Gwen wished she was better at this. She had spent a most of her recent years behind a computer, living with a girl who had difficulty expressing herself and working with a man who spoke with only the utmost necessity. Face to face pleasantries were something that she hadn’t done much in a while and her days coming back home were an exercise in remembering them. She supposed she should be giving Isobel a hug, or an air kiss goodbye but it felt too soon, too fake, and there was nothing that she wanted to give the other woman more than honesty.

So instead she gave Isobel a smile, small but warm, and said with absolute sincerity, “You too, Isobel. Anything you need, anything at all, I’m here for you.” And then she was moving, out the door, back down the way she came.