Elektra - Chapter 1
Feb. 18th, 2005 08:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
athersgeoDisclaimers on part one (if you missed it, it's stored in my memories, under writing)
Introducing Abby
If thoughts could kill, McCabe was a dead man at least four times over, Elektra decided. This house was far too big for her tastes, and far, far too open. The whole frontage was made up of windows for pity's sake! So what if there was an aesthetically pleasing view of the lake out there, who the hell thought all those windows were a good idea?
Realising she was beginning to panic, she drew in a breath, held it for a count of five and exhaled over a count of ten. Some of her tension flowed away, with the breath. Most didn't. At least she was no longer on that raw edge.
Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she was thinking?
"Hi!"
The perky, childish voice nearly made Elektra jump. Damn it -- I hate when McCabe's right. She grimaced to herself, then glanced down at the source of the voice, a small, honey-blonde girl with blue eyes and bangs. "Yes?"
The child didn't seem at all abashed. "Hi," she repeated. "Are you taking the Peterson house?"
For once, Elektra was stuck as to how to respond. For one thing, she hadn't a clue as to which was the Peterson house. She also wasn't used to forthright little girls. Crime lords, sure. Captains of industry, of course. Her marks, you bet. Girls barely into their teens?
The child nodded in the direction of the house that Elektra had just been contemplating. "The Peterson house," she explained. "It's been empty all summer; are you taking it?"
Elektra made a dive for her rapidly fleeing self-possession. "Yes," she answered. "I guess I am."
"Cool." The girl grinned. "I'm Abby."
"That's nice," Elektra shot back. She had to put this child off somehow; the last thing she needed was a puppy following her every move. And yet, some part of her recognised much of herself in Abby, and somehow, she couldn't quite force herself to be as mean as she intended. Lamely, she added, "My name's Elektra."
"Cool!" Abby chirruped. "I..."
"Abby!"
The yell came from a little further along the island's coast. It took Elektra barely a moment to identify its source, a harassed looking man standing on the veranda of the next house along. A glance down at Abby, whose face had fallen appreciably, let Elektra fill in the blanks. "Your dad?"
"Uh-huh." Abby nodded. "Guess I'd better go see what he wants." She sighed. "Can I come visit?" she asked brightly.
The rapid-fire mood switch left Elektra gasping and she failed, yet again, to form a coherent answer.
Abby took her silence as an affirmative. "Cool," she chirruped. "See you later!"
And just like that, the child was gone, leaving Elektra standing there wondering exactly when she'd turned that soft.
~*~
McCabe had outdone himself this time, Elektra decided later as she finished touring the house. Not only was it huge. Not only did it have an entire wall taken up by windows. It had no work-out space, it had no working door locks -- though on the basis of her last apartment, McCabe probably figured she wouldn't mind that -- and worst of all, he'd seen fit to have the bathroom filled with all manner of lotions and potions.
Elektra wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall. Except the house had virtually no walls, either; not good, solid, brick ones, at any rate.
"When I get my hands on McCabe..." she muttered. But the anger and irritation bled away even as she spoke. He'd been right. She did need the time away. Just the sheer fact that a twelve or thirteen year old child had been able to sneak up on her proved that point.
But a relaxing vacation? Long, hot baths scented with aromatherapy oils? Lounging on a leather couch watching daytime television? Who did McCabe think he was kidding?
She returned to the kitchen area of the house. Here, at least, McCabe had seen fit to provide something that was more to her taste and the larder was fully stocked with assorted fresh fruit and vegetables. Selecting a bunch of bananas and a handful of apples, Elektra laid them out on the counter in neat, ordered rows ("One, two, three, four...") ready for when she needed them. Then, she strode into the revoltingly bohemian living room and started to move the furniture. First to go was the low, ultra-elegant coffee table and its carefully positioned potted yucca plant. The plant was shoved onto a convenient stool, out of the way; the table was tugged over into the corner of the room. It was soon followed by the leather couch, while the two equally decadent leather armchairs were pushed into another corner. Lastly, the brightly coloured faux-Indian design scatter rug was rolled up and tossed negligently onto the couch.
What was left behind was a wide, open, wooden-floored space, just right to work out in.
Finally satisfied, Elektra turned her attentions to the bathroom. All the bottles labelled essential oils were swept off the counter and into the plastic trashcan. The tins of bath salts and assorted other pampering aids lined up around the sunken bathtub also landed in the trash. So too did the bouquet of flowers that McCabe had so thoughtfully left on the bathroom windowsill. All that remained was one box of mineral salts and a tube of lineament -- the two most practical items in the room. She removed the now full trashcan and emptied it into the garbage. Returning to the bathroom, she spread out her own things. Face cloth, toothbrush, paste, hairbrush, all in a nice, neat row ("One, two, three, four..."). Only then did she nod. Now it looked like somewhere she might spend some time.
Exiting the bathroom, however, she found herself confronted by Abby, who had, calmly as you please, taken up a seat on one of the moved armchairs.
"Why've you moved stuff?" she asked.
"Why are you here?" Elektra retorted.
Abby shrugged. "Hanging out with you's more fun than math."
Math? Elektra dismissed the thought. "Math is more useful to you than hanging out with me."
"But it's boring."
"So's hanging out with me."
"But you're cool."
"So's math."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is not."
"Is..." Elektra realised midway through her statement what she'd ended up doing. She shook her head. "Nice try, Abby." Gently and firmly, she continued, "You should go home, do your math homework..."
"It's not homework -- I'm home schooled."
The child was truly incorrigible, Elektra noted, trying not to either smile or roll her eyes. "All right; go do your math lesson. I had a long journey to get here; I'm tired."
"Does that mean I can come over tomorrow?" Abby asked, bouncing to her feet.
"Maybe." Elektra gave an inward sigh. She could already tell she was going to have a visitor tomorrow, whether she wanted one or not. "Now..."
"I'm already gone!" And once more, Abby vanished.
Elektra followed her new shadow's path and, on reaching the front door, dragged the heavy hall chest in front of the otherwise unlocking door. At least that way she could guarantee she wouldn't receive unwanted amateur visitors while she slept -- not so much for her safety as Abby's.
If thoughts could kill, McCabe was a dead man at least four times over, Elektra decided. This house was far too big for her tastes, and far, far too open. The whole frontage was made up of windows for pity's sake! So what if there was an aesthetically pleasing view of the lake out there, who the hell thought all those windows were a good idea?
Realising she was beginning to panic, she drew in a breath, held it for a count of five and exhaled over a count of ten. Some of her tension flowed away, with the breath. Most didn't. At least she was no longer on that raw edge.
Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she was thinking?
"Hi!"
The perky, childish voice nearly made Elektra jump. Damn it -- I hate when McCabe's right. She grimaced to herself, then glanced down at the source of the voice, a small, honey-blonde girl with blue eyes and bangs. "Yes?"
The child didn't seem at all abashed. "Hi," she repeated. "Are you taking the Peterson house?"
For once, Elektra was stuck as to how to respond. For one thing, she hadn't a clue as to which was the Peterson house. She also wasn't used to forthright little girls. Crime lords, sure. Captains of industry, of course. Her marks, you bet. Girls barely into their teens?
The child nodded in the direction of the house that Elektra had just been contemplating. "The Peterson house," she explained. "It's been empty all summer; are you taking it?"
Elektra made a dive for her rapidly fleeing self-possession. "Yes," she answered. "I guess I am."
"Cool." The girl grinned. "I'm Abby."
"That's nice," Elektra shot back. She had to put this child off somehow; the last thing she needed was a puppy following her every move. And yet, some part of her recognised much of herself in Abby, and somehow, she couldn't quite force herself to be as mean as she intended. Lamely, she added, "My name's Elektra."
"Cool!" Abby chirruped. "I..."
"Abby!"
The yell came from a little further along the island's coast. It took Elektra barely a moment to identify its source, a harassed looking man standing on the veranda of the next house along. A glance down at Abby, whose face had fallen appreciably, let Elektra fill in the blanks. "Your dad?"
"Uh-huh." Abby nodded. "Guess I'd better go see what he wants." She sighed. "Can I come visit?" she asked brightly.
The rapid-fire mood switch left Elektra gasping and she failed, yet again, to form a coherent answer.
Abby took her silence as an affirmative. "Cool," she chirruped. "See you later!"
And just like that, the child was gone, leaving Elektra standing there wondering exactly when she'd turned that soft.
McCabe had outdone himself this time, Elektra decided later as she finished touring the house. Not only was it huge. Not only did it have an entire wall taken up by windows. It had no work-out space, it had no working door locks -- though on the basis of her last apartment, McCabe probably figured she wouldn't mind that -- and worst of all, he'd seen fit to have the bathroom filled with all manner of lotions and potions.
Elektra wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall. Except the house had virtually no walls, either; not good, solid, brick ones, at any rate.
"When I get my hands on McCabe..." she muttered. But the anger and irritation bled away even as she spoke. He'd been right. She did need the time away. Just the sheer fact that a twelve or thirteen year old child had been able to sneak up on her proved that point.
But a relaxing vacation? Long, hot baths scented with aromatherapy oils? Lounging on a leather couch watching daytime television? Who did McCabe think he was kidding?
She returned to the kitchen area of the house. Here, at least, McCabe had seen fit to provide something that was more to her taste and the larder was fully stocked with assorted fresh fruit and vegetables. Selecting a bunch of bananas and a handful of apples, Elektra laid them out on the counter in neat, ordered rows ("One, two, three, four...") ready for when she needed them. Then, she strode into the revoltingly bohemian living room and started to move the furniture. First to go was the low, ultra-elegant coffee table and its carefully positioned potted yucca plant. The plant was shoved onto a convenient stool, out of the way; the table was tugged over into the corner of the room. It was soon followed by the leather couch, while the two equally decadent leather armchairs were pushed into another corner. Lastly, the brightly coloured faux-Indian design scatter rug was rolled up and tossed negligently onto the couch.
What was left behind was a wide, open, wooden-floored space, just right to work out in.
Finally satisfied, Elektra turned her attentions to the bathroom. All the bottles labelled essential oils were swept off the counter and into the plastic trashcan. The tins of bath salts and assorted other pampering aids lined up around the sunken bathtub also landed in the trash. So too did the bouquet of flowers that McCabe had so thoughtfully left on the bathroom windowsill. All that remained was one box of mineral salts and a tube of lineament -- the two most practical items in the room. She removed the now full trashcan and emptied it into the garbage. Returning to the bathroom, she spread out her own things. Face cloth, toothbrush, paste, hairbrush, all in a nice, neat row ("One, two, three, four..."). Only then did she nod. Now it looked like somewhere she might spend some time.
Exiting the bathroom, however, she found herself confronted by Abby, who had, calmly as you please, taken up a seat on one of the moved armchairs.
"Why've you moved stuff?" she asked.
"Why are you here?" Elektra retorted.
Abby shrugged. "Hanging out with you's more fun than math."
Math? Elektra dismissed the thought. "Math is more useful to you than hanging out with me."
"But it's boring."
"So's hanging out with me."
"But you're cool."
"So's math."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"Is not."
"Is..." Elektra realised midway through her statement what she'd ended up doing. She shook her head. "Nice try, Abby." Gently and firmly, she continued, "You should go home, do your math homework..."
"It's not homework -- I'm home schooled."
The child was truly incorrigible, Elektra noted, trying not to either smile or roll her eyes. "All right; go do your math lesson. I had a long journey to get here; I'm tired."
"Does that mean I can come over tomorrow?" Abby asked, bouncing to her feet.
"Maybe." Elektra gave an inward sigh. She could already tell she was going to have a visitor tomorrow, whether she wanted one or not. "Now..."
"I'm already gone!" And once more, Abby vanished.
Elektra followed her new shadow's path and, on reaching the front door, dragged the heavy hall chest in front of the otherwise unlocking door. At least that way she could guarantee she wouldn't receive unwanted amateur visitors while she slept -- not so much for her safety as Abby's.
