[denial]

By: Tatufreak



Part Two Chapter Three - Present Time

Banner: http://img13.photobucket.com/albums/...freak/P2c3.jpg

A Parisian street at sunset. Bustling bohemia settles down to a low buzz for the night as the darkened street lamps begin to come to life, casting pools of light on the pavements and people below. The crowds shift and sway to the short faded bursts of music from the bars they pass, chattering and linking arms with their partners. Darkness falls peacefully, a happy moment pervades the dusk and humanity holds its breath through the exchange of the early sleepers for the late.
It is in this moment that little Yulia Volkova shoulders her bag and looks at the scene through shining eyes. They reflect everything she has to say, and more. She is stunned; awed by the bustling activity and beautiful people.
A hand on her arm pulls her attention from the scene towards the blonde haired girl standing in front of her. The combination of the heavy magical moment and the light falling on her beautiful face catches Yulia’s throat in a wave of sudden affection. She rushes towards Lena and throws her arms around her neck, thanking her in delight for bringing her to live in the enchanted city of lights.
There is a brief moment in which Lena’s blue eyes widen in shock, and then she shoves the younger girl roughly away.
“Don’t ever do that again, Volk,” she says, angrily, and turns her back coldly upon the crushed dark-haired girl behind her. The latter takes a last look at the beautiful scene with a sigh, before she swallows the lump in her throat and turns to follow her partner-in-crime through the tree-lined streets. They reach the apartment soon, and Lena checks the letter box quickly before leading Yulia up the well-lit staircase to the top floor. She pushes the door open with a foot and allows the smaller girl to pass through before nudging it closed behind them.
Yulia is once again enraptured, this time with the apartment. She takes in every detail with her dark eyes, assessing it quietly. Her gaze falls upon the double bed, then she searches unsuccessfully for another.
Lena guesses what she’s thinking, shaking her head and unravelling her loose blonde curls with her long fingers. “There’s nowhere else to sleep, apart from the couch. We both have to get the maximum amount of quality sleep we can, so we’ll share the bed for now. I’ll talk to the landlord in the morning about getting another bed up here, in the meantime you’d better not kick, snore or sleep talk.” The girl stares at the sheets for a moment, and then back at the girl next to her, adding, “And if you sleep walk, you’re definitely on the sofa tomorrow night.”
Yulia cracks a half-smile and puts her bag down on the bed before glancing at Lena, who coughs pointedly.
“That’s my side.”
The dark haired girl moves her bag obligingly and begins to unpack the few things she has – a pair of pyjamas, a toothbrush, her ID card, gun and the watch. Lena’s cold eyes remain fixed on the last item, nestling among the smooth sheets. Yulia notices her interest and quietly picks the little silver timepiece up, glancing at it quickly before taking it in one hand. With an open sweep she extends her arm, proffering the watch for Lena’s inspection. The latter stares at it furiously, before shaking her head and turning away. Wordlessly Yulia watches her movements, and then quietly tucks it beneath her pillow. There was time for that later.
Lena walks into the kitchen area, lighting the cooker and getting a chopping board from a silver wall-rack. She switches on the overhead lights and instantly the space is flooded with warmth and brightness, gleaming off the chrome surfaces.
“So, are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna help me cook?”
This is addressed to Yulia, who is standing silently by the bed. She instantly brightens, joining Lena in the kitchen and taking a peeler from her.
“Start on those,” the blonde said, pointing towards a few potatoes she’d set out. “You can sauté them in a minute.”
Yulia obligingly takes the vegetables and begins to peel them, quickly and efficiently. Lena watches her movements out of the corner of her eye, giving no indication of noticing. They work side by side for a few minutes, neither venturing to start a conversation. The silence is not uncomfortable however, in fact it is almost reassuring. Lena doesn’t want to speak, and Yulia sees no pressing need to.
Finally Lena finishes her task and looks over at the wall-rack beyond her dark-haired partner.
“Pass me that knife, will you?”
Yulia looks up before setting down the peeler. She picks a sharp blade from the rack by the handle, barely glancing at it. Turning to Lena, she shifts the knife in her hand with a simple slip, holding it by the tip and offering the handle to her blonde host.
Lena stares at Yulia for a moment, once again cold and suspicious.
Why didn’t she mention she was good with knives? She asks this question in her mind, with unshown confusion. It clears quickly however, as she realises the truth behind the movement. Because she doesn’t know, does she? She’s completely unaware of her skills.
Lena takes the knife, still staring at Yulia. The latter quietly resumes peeling, unconscious that anything has just happened.
The two girls finish preparing the meal quickly, and they eat it at the dining room table without conversation. Lena continues to watch her guest, observing the way in which she holds her knife, cuts her food, breathes, stirs, shifts her body slightly to catch the cool night breeze filtering in from the half-open window next to her. Her movements are simple and pleasing, her pretty eyes framed with long eyelashes are expressive and pressingly sad. She is a gentle child, unaware of her own fragility and hopelessness, forgetting herself in her forgotten memories. She has obviously been well taught and trained, brought up somewhere where her motions have not gone unchecked. She is unconsciously graceful and has a quiet air of sweetness and purity, something that the socialite sitting opposite her finds refreshing and gently attractive.
After the meal has finished and the dishes have been washed, the two girls change quickly into their pyjamas. Lena is dressed tastefully – and extremely elegantly – in a simple combination of white silk. Yulia on the other hand wears pastel shorts and a tank top, her childish figure evident in her somehow adorable lack of Lena’s womanly curves.
They move to the bathroom. Lena ignores her reflection in the brightly lit mirror as she begins to squeeze toothpaste out onto her toothbrush, but pauses as she notices Yulia hasn’t moved at all. She glances up and watches her, a half-sad smile crossing her face as she realises what is happening.
Completely oblivious to her, Yulia is standing face-on towards the mirror. She is staring straight at herself, a confused and somehow quietly horrified look in her dark eyes. She reaches forward tentatively, and Lena is suddenly aware she is holding her breath. Yulia touches the cool mirror with a fingertip, tracing the outline of her face. She runs a line from her left ear to her chin, up the other side, over her hair, around her eyes.
She’s memorising herself, Lena thinks to herself, quietly aware that she is witnessing something special and that she should feel privileged.
Now the dark-haired girl traces the outlines of her neck and shoulders, eyes still never leaving the mirror reflection’s. It’s as if they’re locked in an eternal gaze; the fatal embrace of two souls equal and opposite. The younger girl concentrates on her features, Lena watches lost somewhere between suspense and anticipation.
“She doesn’t know her own face,” Yulia whispered slowly, referring to herself in third person. “She is a stranger to her own reflection.” She speaks dreamily; trancelike – as if she’s remembering a long-forgotten line of poetry, a chant hidden within the veils of a childhood even she can’t remember.
Then her eyes move slowly to Lena’s reflection, catching them and holding them with a force and fragile brutality that shocks the latter, forcing her to concentrate on wiping up the toothpaste spilled from her toothbrush.
After a while the adjoining sink’s tap is turned on, the blonde Assassin doesn’t look – she winces at the sudden sound and hastily chides herself for being so emotional and jumpy.
She’s a kid with amnesia. She doesn’t know her own face – big deal. She’ll remember it soon enough…
“And then I’ll be out of your way.”
…
“What?”
Yulia glances at her quickly, and for a second a desire to draw aside the curtain and let Lena peek into her true nature invades her irresistibly.
“That’s something else I can do. I can read people like books – their body language and their eyes say more in a moment than they ever could…ever.”
Lena frowns at her, but it’s a good sort of frown.
“So that’s how you can answer questions I haven’t asked?”
“And finish sentences you haven’t started,” adds Yulia, with a hint of a smile.
There’s a pause, and then Lena plants her hand on the girl’s shoulder and shoves her away, playful for a fleeting moment.
“You’re weird, Volk. You’re really weird.”
Yulia flashes her a smile, but it fades quickly as sadness crosses her face again. Lena perceives this, and then she quietly promises herself that she’ll remember not to be too rough verbally with the girl.
Even jokes can hurt her…she’s so fragile, and yet she’s not really. It’s a paradox – she’s undisturbed by killing and blood, and yet the lightest of criticism scars her. What is she? She’s like a steel machine with a heart of…pink…chocolate. Somehow.
She shrugs her thoughts off and turns away, dancing around the apartment to turn off the lights. As darkness falls around her, Yulia finishes brushing her teeth and wipes her hands, rinsing off her brush and hanging the towel up. Her conscientiousness forces her to wipe the sink with a paper towel, which she throws away before turning off the bathroom lights and making her way through the darkness.
Lena is already in the bed. She closes her eyes and listens.
Yulia’s footsteps are unhesitating. She barely knows the apartment, and yet she walks through the pitch black with the surety of a child bathed in light. Reaching the correct side of the bed she reaches for her rucksack and picks it up, moving it off the bed. Finally she peels back the duvet and slips in, and for the first time Lena notices she is shivering.
“We’re getting up at seven tomorrow,” she breaks the silence, playing with the silken hem of the coverlet. “Clients like to call early. In the mean time get some sleep – you’ll need it.”
Yulia doesn’t answer, because her teeth are chattering too hard.
She’s only a kid…she has nothing on her at all, it must be strange for her in a new apartment with no past and a cloudy future – she needs comfort, or she’ll die. This thought echoes in Lena’s mind surprisingly clearly, and she instantly knows it’s the truth. Yulia is already dangerously close to falling into darkness – her eyes are constantly sad and hurting, despite her quietness and gentleness. She must be really broken up inside, and she’s so fragile…
Just as Lena’s about to act, a warning flashes up viciously, setting off alarm bells in her head.
If you do this, there’s one more barrier you’ll never be able to rebuild. Don’t do this Lena, don’t do this to yourself.
Conflict wrecks her mind and twists her forehead into lines of confusion. Silence and night kiss the sleeping city as a young blonde girl wrestles with a problem hidden away in the darkness. It’s irreversibly, incomprehensibly dangerous.
And now she acts – now she makes her decision.

Very quietly, with minimal fuss, Lena pressed her back gently against Yulia’s. The movement was simple and uncomplicated, but as her healing warmth began to flow silently into the younger girl, her mind was flooded and tortured with pressing feelings of regret, horror and dismay.
Just as they threatened to overwhelm her, something suddenly happened.
A shy, timid little hand touched her hair. Yulia was reaching back over her head, her fingertips gently stroking Lena’s soft curls. There was nothing in the gesture but pure greatfulness, and Lena was shocked to find that for the first time her pent up, overwhelming emotions of self-hatred and fear began to diffuse. They sifted away into soft clouds of unimportant questions, like sand falling away beneath her outstretched fingers. Lena blinked suddenly as slow realisation set in.
She’d just experienced an epiphany – a miracle – an answer. For once in her life she’d done something for someone else. Always used to concentrating on keeping her regrets away, she’d never sacrificed anything for anyone…and then Yulia had come along with her intense fragility and scarred past, hurting and hopelessly sad, desperately in need of reassurance. Lena had melted just enough to take one single step towards healing the girl, braving the inner voices that tormented her for just long enough. They’d followed, of course, but that was when the miracle had happened.
Yulia had stretched out a little hand and gripped the motion, pulling herself towards restoration…and she’d returned the gift to Lena. Hurt, dazed, broken, confused – the little dark-haired girl had something within her that mirrored the blonde’s aching torments. She’d responded with her own timid step, and somehow had offered her an equal chance of healing and restoration.
“We’ll heal each other – you and I.”
Yulia heard the whisper.
She stared into the darkness…nodded…smiled.
“TaTu together, until death do us part.”
Lena bit her lip and nodded slowly.
Only if you’d been there; a silent watcher with glowing eyes and the gift of wisdom; would you have seen the flash of pain cross the blonde’s face.
But…you aren’t.
Are you.