ArchivedLogs:Not There

Not There
Dramatis Personae Jim, Melinda, Tola	2014-11-30 Part of the Future Past TP. Takes place just after horrible war dreams.
Location <NYC> {Melinda} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The entry way to Mel and Tove's apartment dumps directly into the living room, a small set of hooks on the wall beside the door for immediate removal of winter gear in the season. The floor in the entry way is a beige tile, optimal for collecting wet clothing items, instead of letting it spread out over the polished hardwood floors. There is a small nook with a window seat, on the same wall as the entryway, peeking out into the courtyard on the other side of the building's entrance. Two large windows line the right wall, casting light inside. There's a small dining table in the corner formed by the kitchen jutting into the living space from the wall opposite the entry; a small half wall providing lower counter space and a barrier between the two rooms. There is a small hallway beside the kitchen, running along the side of the stairway to the second floor. At the base of the stairs, there's door to the small guest bathroom residing between the stairs and the interior wall. Hidden away in the back of the apartment is more storage space, a stacked washer and dryer, and exits, one to the basement utilities and one to the back yard. The second floor begins where the staircase ends, with a closet to the left, a bare wall, and a turn to the right. There are three doors, Tove's bedroom first, then Mel's master bedroom, which takes up most of the corner of the upstairs. The rest of the upstairs, over the living room and part of the downstairs bathroom, is a healthy sized bathroom with a large claw footed tub - one perfect for soaking one body or two. It's hard to drag a young mother wide awake in the wee hours of the morning. No, those who usually have to scrap and fight for every little bit of unconsciousness develop a tenacious grip on sleep that can only be disturbed by certain things. With people in Melinda's position, the cries of their offspring can snap them out of nearly anything. Other things, well, it takes longer. It's the middle of the night when a very uncomfortable feeling starts building in Melinda's mind. Sweat soaked sheets chill her skin, jabbing at her mind, increasing her level of unrest. She tosses and turns and eventually sits bolt upright, eyes trying to adjust to the dark room, panting heavily. She grips the sheets, an oversized tee shirt clinging to her back where she is dampest. It takes her a moment to catch her breath and calm herself enough to formulate thought. That drives her to scurry out of bed, crawling across the foot before crossing the distance to the crib in the far side of the room, clicking on a small amber nightlight to shed light in between the bars upon a small green face, fast asleep on the soft sheets. From downstairs, the inner entrance door that feeds to the basement storage unite is shortly heard unlocking. With the familiar THUMP and *swear!* of a man stumbling over a pair of shoes in the entryway before heading for the stairs. "Mel-" Jim's voice ALMOST yells! Then remembers it's asscrack o'clock in the morning and poor Tove may still be sleeping soundly. Quieter, outside Melinda's bedroom door, comes a far less characteristic knock. It's hesitant, utilizes only a single knuckle. Raps two small times. "...Mel, it's Jim. You uh." There's a pause. Adding lamer: "You awake?" Melinda leans in and scoops her child at the first sound of catastrophe in the lower levels. Jim's fumblings sound familiar enough in her subconscious mind to not freak her out further, but her conscious mind is still very much distracted by the fear she can't put a finger on, so she pulls the sleeping infant close, waking her just a little with the movement. She starts bouncing lightly to put her child back to sleep as she tries to calm herself, when the knock at the door sends all new chills down her spine. She exhales a small squeak and moves over to the door, reaching her free hand out to twist the handle and let Jim in. "Yeah. Barely. Maybe. Shit." Jim's face doesn't look like he just woke up - it looks like he hasn't slept yet. But it always kind of looks like that, all pouchy and furrowed. Standing just shy of Melinda's bedroom in his own sleep ware - an undershirt and a kilt - he stops his initial forward movement to enter (or well... STORM into) the room by moving out his hands to either side, bracing his weight on the sides of the doorframe. Mouth compressed, his eyes jump briskly to either of Melinda's, studying her face, then dropping to regard Tola in her mother's arms. Then back up to Melinda's face. And states, "--I." Just - states the word. DEFIANTELY?? And lets out a sudden huge stream of air, wilting in the doorway. "You?" Melinda draws in a deep breath as she looks him over, a needy look in her eyes before she takes a step back and shows Jim in, moving to pace between the bed, the chaise, and the crib. She doesn't sit. She just keeps moving. "I can't ... right now. I feel like I'm in the middle of a panic attack and I can't calm down right now. You? Why are you? You okay?" "Uh." Jim enters behind her, scrubbing his face. "Yeah I, mean." He seems to be following roughly behind Melinda as though she were leading him somewhere, until his arm moves out to intercept Melinda's pacing to turn her around to face him. And then just full-on tries to mush both woman and infant /into/ him. Against his chest. He's flesh tonight, beneath his clothes. His warm ribcage thumping with his pulse. ".../you/ okay?" He asks this almost /miserably/ awkward? Melinda resist the turn a little, almost desperate to keep moving, but when she faces Jim, she studies his face for a moment, then acquiesces. She face plants against his shoulder, still tense, but it provides a decent cage to protect the child from being crushed in the stress of the moment. Her shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths, trembling against him. "I... I don't know. I think so. Maybe. I don't know. I just. I woke up like this. This woke me up. Have you checked on Hive? I don't think it's him. I think it's Tola, but she's fine... and sleeping." Well, sort of. She keeps getting jarred by her parents. "Hive doesn't usually--," Jim starts talking at almost the same time Melinda does, just kind of bewilderedly arguing for the SAKE of it while his arms close around the woman and child. "I'll check with him later, just... Shut up. Okay? It's okay." OKAY? He folds his chin down to rest against the side of Melinda's temple, pulse slowly winding down. There's a slight flush of color in his cheeks as he stiffly adds, more clearly. "It's alright." Here. He's... petting her /back/. Maybe he thinks her hair needs smoothing. "The kid's safe. You're safe." His eyes drift towards the window, looking out into the night. "...God damn." Deep breaths help Mel calm down as well. She did stiffen when he told her to shut up, but she lets it go, given the intensity of the moment. She relaxes after a little while, her gaze turning down to her baby. The little one peeks an eye open to look up at the pair of bodies cradling her. She yawns. The moment seems to last forever, until Jim curses again. Melinda draws herself up to her full height and turns to look out the window as well. There is nothing there, but a deep wrinkle starts to form between her brows. Her lips purse as she stares at the darkness, holding her breath unconsciously. After a moment of silence, she finally speaks. "It's not there." Jim shifts to leave on arm still around Melinda, so that the two of them can look outside at the dark courtyard beyond. His features have set harder again, wired-awake and livid-clenched. It's more the face of a man ready to march out a door than it is a man with tousled hair and pajamas on. He mutters finally, "No." One badly formed hand closes around the crown of the infant's head, like he needs to hold it STILL for him to lean down and land a little peck on her smooth green forehead. "/We're/ not there." He pulls away finally, scrubbing hands down his whiskery jaw. "I gotta go." Stalk the premises, Jim? Have a smoke? "Go?" Melinda offers a rare frown, pulling her attention away from the window and turning it back on Jim. When she sees his face, she offers no protest. She just stands there, watching him as he leans over their child then pulls away. She nods, beginning to bounce the child gently in her arms when he is free of them. "Ah. Come back when you can, okay?" She gnaws on her lip and starts staring intently on the sleepy infant. The way Jim strides, back to Melinda and without pause at her words, gives the sense that there's some mental sunset he's walking into, never to be seen again. Except that he adds, as he rounds the entryway to head for the stairs, "Put a pot of coffee on?" Maybe it's... a little hopeful? "Yeah. I will." Melinda nods, a little distracted, but following his progress out of the room. "See you then." "Yeah."