Re: The Lieutenant/The Daughter
There was Before and there was After. Before, there was the vial. There was the soldier. His promises. They were together on the lip of the jammed train, and Frances was trying to decipher what it was in her that was making her feel like an out-of-control top. The man, the one she knew, was telling her he'd make sure she was safe, and she didn't know how to tell him, she had to protect him. Whatever was coming, it was coming for him. Not her.
She took his hand, feeling nothing through the glove but solidity, and she jumped into the powder below. Flakes slurried up beneath her saddle shoes and she shivered without thinking. She looked up, ready to reach and help him. And he was gone.
That was After. Gone. From her awareness. From reality. Like he'd never been. Frances screamed. There weren't even footprints biting into the snow underfoot. There was no trace of him, save for the weight of his coat on her shoulders and his gloves. "No, no, no, no, no..." She turned in a circle. Her voice was shattered glass in her throat. It was a new loss. "FUCK." Not knowing what else to do, she started running down the track cleared by the train.