maskormenacelogs | One day we will run out of tomorrows

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One day we will run out of tomorrows

WHO: Mia Fey and Godot
WHERE: Public Defenders' Office
WHEN: Lunch time, March 18.
WHAT: Mia drops by her roomate's office to take him out to lunch and runs into a familiar face and an unexpected blast from the past.
WARNINGS: Angst. Coffee Metaphors. Manpain blacker than a cup of Godot blend #101.

There was nothing more buoying to the spirits than to be told by a doctor that you were not about to keel over and die from a serious head injury. Having had that dubious pleasure once in her lifetime- her first lifetime to be exact- Mia wasn't in any rush to repeat the experience. So with her doctor's note signed and with her papers dropped off at the personnel office of the university, Mia was quite ready to proclaim her morning a productive one and was feeling in the mood to celebrate.

After taking a break to seek out some recommendations for a place to eat, Mia made her way over to Phoenix's workplace to surprise her former protege with a thank you lunch. He'd been invaluable and more than attentive while she'd been feeling less than stellar, and it was only right that she treat him. Besides, she was long overdue shouting him for the burgers she had promised as a celebration of his first case.

Hopefully he wouldn't mind them being a decade overdue.

Ten minutes later, she arrived at the Public Defenders' Office and followed the directions given to her by the lady at the front desk (who reminded her vaguely of Wendy Oldbag for some reason), she found herself at the door to the office Phoenix was working in and knocked on the door.

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He was glad to be looking away. Even if she couldn't see his eyes, he was pretty sure that unbreakable expression on his lips was twisting into a distressed frown.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, once he'd gotten control of his voice again. "I hate to disappoint you."

Why did she have to find him here? If she was going to appear in this place, in this twisted situation, it would have been better if she'd never known he was here. If he'd never had to explain to her the bitter truth that still hurt to think about, even after he'd steeled himself to it.

"The truth of the matter is--" He sighed, and turned around to look at her. He needed to see the look on her face when she heard the news. Needed to use it to seal away these troublesome, lingering dredges that were floating back to the surface.

"Diego is dead."

She flinched. She couldn't help herself, those three words had dragged up an uncomfortable memory for her.

Diego Armando is dead. We need you to come to the hospital and formally identify the body, Miss Fey.

Mia squared her shoulders and looked straight at him.

"You know, someone tried to tell me that once. I didn't believe them then, and I don't believe it from you now when you're standing right in front of me." She took a fortifying breath before she continued. "I didn't believe it when they said you wouldn't wake up, or you'd be better off dead even if you did. So try again, Diego. What are you so afraid of telling me?"

Better off dead-

He exhaled slowly and steeled himself again, shoving one hand into his pocket in that old nervous habit. Maybe he looked like Diego, or had his unmistakable voice. But the sad truth was as plain as day to him, as plain as the mask that covered his eyes.

Perhaps he needed to be more specific.

"Diego Armando never woke up," he said again. "He was arrogant and foolish. And because of that, he's gone from this world. I'm all that's left of him now."

"Is this supposed to be your idea of a sick joke? Because it's not funny."

Mia balled her fists at her side but refused to back down. How dare he stand there, alive and existing in the world, and telling her that he was gone from it?

"Don't you tell me that. Don't you dare. Being arrogant and foolish has nothing to do with what happened to you and it didn't kill you. Don't stand there and have the nerve to tell a dead woman that you're gone from the world because you have no idea what a terrible thing that is to have happen to you."

If only it was a joke. If only he could just shed the facade and open up to her, embrace her like he'd always wished he could if she had only been alive. The fact of the matter was that there were many kinds of death. And it was undeniable that a large part of the man she fell in love with was terminally destroyed all those years ago, and could never be made right again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and turned to look away from her. Sorry he had to be the one to break the news. Sorry Diego wasn't here to greet her. Sorry he had to exist at all, and thus disappoint her.

Mia took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to calm down. This wasn't going right at all, it wasn't how they were supposed to reunite after all these years and against all odds.

"Don't be sorry, be honest with me."

Why did he keep turning away from her? He had never been this withdrawn from her, never. She knew things had changed, knew that they could never go back to what they had had before August 27th 2012, but she had thought she'd at least be able to get some sense out of him, especially after seeing him in court.

And now he was hiding things from her, and even if she hadn't been able to see those Psychelocks about his person she'd have been able to guess that.

"What's wrong? Please, don't shut me out." She waited for a moment before adding: "I missed you so much."

If anyone would be able to rattle him to the core like this, it was obviously going to be one Ms. Mia Fey. She'd apparently been born with a special talent for rattling him like no one else, and even his carefully constructed facade was shaking under her words.

He still couldn't look at her, reaching forward to put his hands on the windowsill as he faced out the window. He couldn't see out, the glare of his visor reflecting off the glass and right in his way.

"Everything is wrong," he answered quietly. "Like I said. I'm all that's left. There isn't anything here that's worth your time or trouble, kitten. You deserve better than leftovers."

"I think I'd like to be given the benefit of my own opinion on that," she said softly.

There was something so unsettlingly odd about the situation, about him evading even the simplest of questions and leaving her in the dark about how best to proceed. Even as he looked out of the window at everything other than her rubbed Mia the wrong way. He was exasperating in his avoidance.

"The least you could do is tell me why. I've waited for you, everyone told me to move on and write you off as a lost cause but I wouldn't listen. Don't make them be right. Don't tell me I waited in vain."

Tentatively, she took a step forward and touched his elbow.

"I've never stopped loving you. Not even for a second."

Of course she waited. She waited longest of all for a man who never arrived. The apropos of the statement weren't at all lost on him. How unfair that he finally arrive for her, looking like this, being this broken man not worthy of the wait.

He lowered his head a little as she touched his elbow, and despite himself he knew she could probably feel him shiver.

"Why?" he repeated. Well... that was an easy enough answer.

"Because it was easier to start over than to pick up from nothing."

"What do you mean?"

Mia frowned, then stepped around to try and get between him and the window. She didn't like this avoidance, didn't like to feel she was talking at him rather than to him.

"Why would you start over? Why give up defense when you love it? Diego you're an amazing lawyer, I know you'd been out for a while but you'd have got back into it in no time. Grossberg would have had you back in a second!"

He shook his head at her questions. If only it was so simple as a change in career. That might be understandable, but Godot had come about when an entire life was too broken to put back together.

"When the blend you're holding goes bad in the cup... dump it out and make another," he said. "That's a rule to live by."

He already knew she wasn't going to buy that cryptic response, so he provided a rare clarification.

"I couldn't. There was nothing left. Nothing at all."

Edited (spleling) 2014-03-25 13:57 (UTC)

"What are you talking about? Of cou-"

And then she stopped and considered something that hadn't occurred to her before.

"Oh god." She took a step back, forgetting how close she was to the window and hitting the sill with the small of her back. "You mean me. You don't mean me, do you?"

What an utterly ridiculous, egotistical notion for her to even have, but now that the idea was in her head... She looked up at him, face stricken.

"Diego..."

He couldn't hide the frown that crossed his lips upon seeing her expression, though as always, it was impossible to tell what sort of frown it was without view of his eyes. It was enough to stir him from stillness, though, taking a step towards her and shaking his head again.

This was why it would have been better if he'd never seen her again. If she'd never had to lay eyes on this broken corpse that she must have been so happy to see.

"It isn't your fault," he said softly. He reached out and took her hand, carefully toying with her fingers as he lifted it up towards his face.

"It wasn't you who failed. It's his sins that sent him to hell, and his suffering is his only penance. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened to you."

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and held them there for a moment, like he couldn't bear to let them go.

"It was all his fault," he murmured.

She let out a shaky sigh as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. Again, she was struck by a sense of wrongness about this whole situation.

"Maybe it was my fault. I got reckless and stupid and I thought I could handle him." She sighed and brought her other hand up to touch his cheek. "And I did. I just did it too late. Justice was served and Redd White got to feel its reach."

But that didn't help them here and now, in an office that smelt strongly of coffee in the middle of Florida.

"I am so, so sorry, sweetheart. I would have given anything to have been there when you woke up. I'm so sorry."

That apology left his guts tied up in knots, twisted and painful to where he felt like he might choke.

"No, Mia." He was insistent, shaking his head. "You can't apologize. None of it was your fault. He should have been there. He wasn't. And that's why it's all his fault."

It was tempting to let her keep touching his cheek, gentle hands that hadn't touched him in so long he nearly forgot what they felt like. But that would be too far. It was bad enough that he'd faltered this much, and it would only mean more pain for her in the end.

He had to pull away before he slipped any further.

With one more kiss to her knuckles, he let her hand fall and stepped away from her reach.

"Don't waste your chance at life and happiness on a dead man. Don't carry his sins, Madame Fey," he said, steeling his voice. "That's my only purpose now."

Being pushed away was like being smacked in the face. And then he called her 'Madame Fey.'

"It's good to see you again, Madame Fey."

It had been years, but still the memory of Dahlia Hawthorne's too sweet, syrupy voice on the stand had the ability bring the bile to the back of her throat.

"Mia," she said stubbornly, squaring her shoulders as she stared him down. "Call me Mia. Or Kitten. Call me anything except that."

If he was going to be difficult then he would have a fight on his hands.

"And stop calling yourself a dead man or I swear to god Diego-" she didn't even know what to threaten him with, it shook her so badly. "Because we've been through this, and you are anything but dead."

"Ms. Fey, then."

He could feel his pulse in his ears, pounding harder because he knew he had no choice but to push things further, now.

"And there are many different kinds of death," he said, turning away again. This time he stepped over to his desk and began to fiddle with a stack of papers there. "There is no doubt in my mind that the man you knew is dead, in some sense of the phrase."

He exhaled slowly, and like a switch was turned, his voice was steel and stoic again.

"Like I said, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But it's time we meet properly. My name... is Godot."

"Oh for god's sake- Look, we've seen each other naked. There was a time for Ms. Fey and introductions and we are way beyond that. Why are you acting like this?"

She walked over to his desk and slammed her palms on top of the papers he was distracting himself with.

"Your name is Diego Armando, you drink more coffee than any normal person should, you like jazz, your favorite color's red, you took me out for burgers the day of Terry Fawles' funeral and that was the day I began to fall for you. You were poisoned on the 27th August 2012-" Her voice cracked for a moment but she didn't let it dissuade her. "And for thirty minutes I felt like I had died because they told me you had. For two weeks I slept in a chair by your bed because I was terrified I'd miss you waking up or you'd die and I wouldn't get you back. So yes, there might be many different types of death but the one that really puts a stop to everything doesn't apply to either of us right now."

He should have known better than to expect her to accept it. He should have known she would fight, and fiercely-- Kitten always had claws, in the courtroom or otherwise, and he should have known she would turn them on him if he tried to pull away from her like he did everyone else.

He didn't look up at her, face tilted downward at her hands atop his papers. Every word stung, making him feel sick inside, like a suppressed memory struggling to come back to the surface. Hearing about her waiting by his bedside sent a shiver through him, and in Mia's sight only, the chains of his psychelocks trembled and rattled, then tightened.

"I can't be him anymore," he said simply, after a long silence. "I can't."

He abruptly turned then, stepping out from behind his desk and heading for the door. Running? Perhaps. But he couldn't stand here and take her disappointment any longer.

"Why?"

What was he doing? Mia wasn't content to let it go that easily, especially having seen the chains that held the truth in place rattling under her assertions. It had been a long time since she'd had to deal with a psychelock, but that didn't mean she was about to give up on the first attempt.

"You're not making any sense."

She waited at the desk and turned as he started heading towards the door. Why would he run from her, after all this time?

"You're you, it doesn't matter what color your hair is or what you go by in a courtroom, you're still you and you're still here. Why is that so hard for you to see?"

He grabbed his briefcase from the hook beside the door. There were papers he probably needed at his desk, but like hell was he going to stick around for them. He couldn't bear to look back at her again, not now, not when he felt rattled from the inside out, like the careful mask he wore had been cut straight through to the core.

All he could do was shake his head as she spoke to him, and finally, answer her one more time with a voice that sounded like he was trying very hard to hold it in check.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. But there are some things better left in the past, to live on in untainted memories," he said. "Diego Armando is one of them."

With that, he hurriedly stepped out into the hall and down the corridor to the elevator and out.

Mia just stood blinking in stunned silence as he left and didn't know whether to be angry or upset. Part of her wanted to knock all his paperwork off his desk in spite, but she reminded herself that she wasn't a bratty kid anymore and that was hardly going to help her case.

Besides, it would be best if only one party acted like a brat in this.

She had more dignity than to run out after him, begging and pleading for him to reconsider, even though she wanted to desperately. After five years of waiting to see him again, how could he just walk out of there and turn his back on her as though what she was saying didn't matter?

Her hands were shaking she was so upset.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest pen- a red marker- from the pot on the desk, and scrawled a note on a piece of blank paper close to hand.

Diego,
The past hasn't been too great to us, we both know that. When you're ready to talk to me in the present, I'll be here.
Don't keep me waiting too long.
All my love,
Mia

She took a deep breath and spent a moment composing herself, trying not to let the smell of coffee get to her the way that it had a strange habit of doing, and with one last look at the note on his desk, she left the office in search of Phoenix, even though her appetite seemed to have left her.

Edited 2014-03-27 11:10 (UTC)

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One day we will run out of tomorrows

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