Elle Joyner

Moop.
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
  1. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
j5EiNK2.jpg
An RP by @Elle Joyner & @Nav

no-lightbox

Name | Abel R. Tripel

Age | 26

Brief Overview | Abel is bright, dynamic, and full of laughter and life. He’s painfully charismatic, but also is a businessman through and through, and often sees people for their worth to him. He’s cunning, probably too smart for his own good, and is very good at getting what he wants. He’s a courageous person though, and is always willing to stand up for what he believes in, though he doesn’t believe in much, least of all the goodness in people. His entire life is lived with a healthy dose of skepticism and he doesn’t readily trust others. He often accepts that everything will just be better if he does it himself, instead of trying to delegate tasks. As such, he obsesses with his work, often at the expense of his personal life.

As people go, he’s pretty straight laced, but always follows through on his word.

Growing up as the only child to a single father, also a lawyer, in Miami, Florida, Abel was pushed from a young age to achieve greatness—and he delivered in fold. At twenty-one, he was the youngest student in his university’s history to pass the bar exam. He went on to work for a large, illustrious law firm as a prosecuting attorney in the city, a positioned he has maintained since present day. He is prone to acting a bit childish outside of the courtroom and law office because he never really got his wild years out of his system. His charisma fails him when he's around a woman he really admires, leaving him a blathering idiot, and he's deathly afraid of any spider bigger than a half dollar.



no-lightbox


Name | Anine Greyhart

Age | 25

Brief Overview | Anine is, in a lot of ways, the very essence of self control. Hard working, diligent and focused, she isn't terribly fun at parties, but she gets the job done and doesn't complain about doing it. Raised in Philadelphia, the only kid to a police chief, desperate for a boy, she didn't have a terribly average childhood. By thirteen, she'd never had a sleep over, didn't actually know what the Girl Scouts were and the only dress she owned was for funerals, but she knew the penal code by heart, could recite a man his Miranda rights and could hit the bullseye on a target from twenty yards away.

A life of law enforcement was practically written into her genetic code. It was no wonder, then, that she managed to make detective only a few years into her career. The transfer to New York City came shortly after, when Anine requested a change of pace. There, she was partnered with a man named Gavin Clemmons. While their start was rough, Gavin and Anine became surprisingly fast friends, and even better partners - their record of collars nearly unblemished.




mPbnvEj.png
By taxi first, then a short walk around the corner. The nursing home came into view, its warm exterior painted with earth tones and once inside, pictures of nature scenes hung on every available wall space. The receptionist was a young thing with a bright smile and printed scrubs. There was something pleasant about her, inviting, a woman he was glad to see in nursing equipment. “Hello!” she chirped, “Welcome to Meadow View Nursing Care. May I check you in today?”

“Yes, hello,” Abel stepped up to the counter, “I’m Abel Tripel, here to see…” but he didn’t even have a chance to finish before the woman burst into laughter.

“Of course! You must be here to see Roy. He speaks of you often, Abel. He tells everyone who will listen about his son in New York—a lawyer, right? Anyways, just sign in here,” she continued, passing the clipboard over the desk. Signing both him and Anine in, he handed it back to her as she gave quick directions to his father’s room. It was only a stone’s throw away, yet when he turned to follow her directions, it felt like a grueling hundred miles. Each step became slower and more lethargic than the previous, and his heart was thumping in his ears so violently he was actually beginning to feel dizzy. The door was left propped open and Abel just paused there a moment, right at the corner where he couldn’t see in and took a second to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he reached out and gently knocked on the doorframe. “Dad?”

The man was sitting in a chair by the window until he would be inevitably helped back in to bed. In the bright, summer sunlight, his hair was snowy and skin like a wax dummy, crudely carved with tools that were too sharp. His head was in constant motion as if agreeing with sentiments no-one else could hear, or perhaps the ruminations of his own mind, mulling over a lifetime that was drawing to a close.

On his dresser stood many photographs, including a black and white photograph of him in much younger form and, on his knee, a young boy… Abel, unmistakably, no older than four, holding up a huge slice of birthday cake. When his eyes flicked between the two, his father and the picture of his more youthful self, he understood why people called time a thief. It stole so much, just slowly, until the last grain would fall from his personal hourglass.

“Abel?” the man turned in his chair, “Abel! Well, come on in, s-s-sit down. Don’t just stand there like, like a lump.”

KGSA6Z8.png
His tension was nearly palpable, and for a solid minute, as he hesitated outside of the door, Anine was sure Abel was going to change his mind. Really, she wouldn't have blamed him. Her heart felt for him, for the stress he must have been feeling, for the uncertainty. But in the end she also knew, largely from recent experience, that it was better to face those fears than try to bury them... eventually, they would bleed through, and the longer you ignored them, the worse things got.

Whether or not his father remembered him, Abel owed it to himself to face him. To see him... before it was too late, and he couldn't anymore. He had said so himself, and she knew in the back of his mind, at least, he would remember that. Finally, Abel took the step and knocked on the door, stepping inside and smiling faintly, Anine followed after him, reaching down to take hold of his hand with a reassuring squeeze.

His father sat near the window, small and fragile in appearance, a palsy-like quiver to him. Over his lap was draped a woolen blanket, his hands resting over it, fingers gnarled and swollen, the hands of a man who, despite being behind a desk, had worked all his life, the way that all men had, once upon a time. She could almost imagine him, fixing things around the house or out in the yard... building, repairing, creating...

Keeping close to the door, feeling suddenly as if she were invading in a very personal, special moment, which wasn't entirely unreasonable, all things considered Anine released him, "Go on." She murmured, gently, nodded to Abel, and gesturing to the chair across from the elderly man.

Her eyes then moved to the pictures on the dresser and moving closer to them, she inspected them, smiling brightly. This was his world... the world that he was so hesitant to let anyone into. Yet she had somehow, someway gotten lucky enough to be invited to be a part of it. As she picked up one of the frames and looked down at the little boy inside, she felt her eyes prickle with sudden tears.
 
  • Love
Reactions: Nav
mPbnvEj.png
Though time had stolen a great deal from Roy, it was impossible not to know that the two men were related. They had the same mannerisms that shone through Roy’s disease. The same, eyes, too, and the same shining intelligence behind them. Hesitantly, Abel moved forward at Anine’s coaxing. He stepped once, then the rest were easier. He took the seat and laced his fingers together in his lap, staring across to the man who had raised him.

It hadn’t been just Abel who had held the man in such high regard. The whole city used to. He never expected more of his son than he had given himself, and he always expected the world from Abel. He demanded every ounce of his being and then a little more, but what he had given in return was almost superhuman, hard to describe, really. Roy had been more than just a father to Abel, he was his hero. He would have followed that man anywhere as a kid and seeing him so broken down, so ill caused Abel’s heart to beat of rhythm for a moment. He exhaled a shallow breath, “I’m sorry, dad,” was all he had managed.

The old man lifted a quivering hand as if to silence his son before waving it back and forth to dismiss those thoughts from the air. “You need not apologize for anything, Abel,” he corrected, a tremor in his voice though there was an echo of strength from deep in his lungs, “You’re off… you’re off doing great things. I know, because I raised you that way. Now, are you going to tell me about that lovely lady hiding behind me? Or are you going to be rude? I taught you better.”

The smile on Abel’s face was hesitant for a moment, but it seemed to brighten in a beat. “Yes, of course. Dad, this is my girlfriend—Anine. She’s a crime detective with our local PD. And uhm, Anine, this is my father, Roy. I grew up just a few miles from here. My dad was the district attorney here in Florida when I was a kid. He was who got me into law.”

“Bah!” The man laughed, looking like he lost control of his bodily movements for a moment as his arms flopped to the side and shook before he regained control, “Abel got into the law as a teenager, long before he started formally studying it. Got nearly arrested! Good thing I knew all the cops in the city and they just brought him home.”

“You were always the one who told me that I needed to explore both sides of the law to be able to practice it properly.”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

It felt a little like trespassing, overhearing the tender conversation between father and son and for a moment, Anine wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself as she stood by the dresser, her eyes roving, misty, over the pictures. She could hear it in Roy's voice... the pride that he had in his son. The love for him and it was almost enough that Anine felt a pang of jealousy. It was something she knew, no matter how hard she worked for it, she would ever hear in her own father. He simply wasn't capable of expressing himself that way... Not now. Not ever.

The conversation switched directions and turning to the pair, Anine swiped quickly at her eyes, smiling brilliantly at Abel's charming introduction. It felt good to hear it. Girlfriend. Considering how hesitant he had been when they had first considered a relationship - considering how difficult it had been for him to open up, it meant a lot to her to hear him so confident in who she was to him. To hear the joy in his voice.

Stepping close, Anine sank to a crouch beside Abel's chair, turning that bright smile to Roy with a nod, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Abel talks about you all the time... Nice to finally see the man behind all those amazing stories." As Roy continued, Anine laughed, turning her eyes up to Abel with a shake of the head, "That sounds about right... He's trouble, this one."

With a wink, she straightened, and leaning down, pressed a kiss to Abel's cheek, "Listen. I'm gonna let you two catch up. You've got a lot to talk about... I'm gonna go take a walk around that gorgeous pond outside and get some sun. Just text me, when you need me to hear back, okay? And take your time." Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she released him, then turned to Roy, "Don't let him talk your ear off about work, either. He's got so many more interesting things to talk to you about..."

With another nod, and one more kiss for Abel, she made for the door and slipped out, closing it after herself.

She wanted to stay. She wanted to stay and support him, to hold his hand as he talked and to give him that comfort of knowing that she was by his side. But the fact of the matter was, Abel needed to do this on his own. She'd known it as soon as he had introduced her, and his entire countenance had shifted. He needed to find his strength in himself, and find a way to connect with his father without her in the way, without her there to coddle him. Until he could do that... until he could carry that weight on his own, he would never be able to handle what came when his father wasn't there anymore...

Outside, the sun had risen high against a powder blue sky, cloudless and hot. Her skin prickled as it adjusted from the frigid temperature of the air conditioned building and rubbing her arms, she stepped along the path that led to the small pond by the entrance. It was a short walk, mostly downhill for the benefit of the center's patrons, and unsurprisingly, it wasn't particularly crowded. As she walked, she considered again how far she and Abel had both come. Their situation hadn't started out easy and it hadn't gone entirely smoothly, but she had never imagined, upon meeting him, that she would even like him... let alone grow to love him. It felt strange, and a little frightening how swiftly things had changed... but there wasn't a moment of it that she would trade.

"Ms. Greyhart. We've been looking all over for you." Gooseflesh prickled along her skin again, but not because of the chill, this time. She recognized the voice, almost immediately and spun round on her heels, turning to see the face of the person who had threatened her to stop looking into Gavin's death all those weeks ago. It was the metal object the woman held, however, that Anine instead laid eyes on, as with a smooth, manicured nail, red and pointed, the woman squeezed the trigger. As the two nodes shot free from the taser, Anine had little time to do more than flinch, before she dropped.
 
Last edited:
mPbnvEj.png

Reconnecting felt nauseating.

All his childhood, it had only ever been him and his dad. Abel didn’t have friends growing up, not with the way he looked, the way he acted. He was weird and gangly, and in high school, matters only got worse when he broke out and developed oily skin for high teen years. He had gotten in to trouble a few times because he was acting out, trying to make friends with the wrong crowd, though even that didn’t work out, so it had always been dad. It had always been dad who had talked with him, coached him through things, and bought him his first razor when his first little facial hair strand came in right on his chin. It had always been dad when the first girl had broken Abel’s heart, it had been dad who watched movies with him when he had no one to go with to prom. It had been dad at his high school graduation, and his college graduation, and his BAR graduation.

It had always been dad and for so long, Abel tried to resist the image of the man he grew up emulating withering away and dying slowly. He resisted it because the mental image of having the one person who had always been there to support him when he needed it not be there anymore was hard. It was heartbreaking.

He supposed that was the downfall of never having a mother. Abel had learned to grow up and be an adult. He had learned to be mature, self-sufficient, and self-reliant, but there had always been a comfort in knowing he could fall back on Roy. Now, he knew he couldn’t. There was no safety net, no one to catch him, no one to cheer him on even if no one else would.

His eyes shifted to Anine and he softened with a touch of smile as the two got acquainted. His father seemed overjoyed with her, complimenting her beauty and wondering aloud “when had Abel gotten so l-l-l-lucky to find a lady like, like, like you?”

“Yea, of course,” Abel agreed with a small nod, reaching over to catch her little cheek peck by the lips, “Have fun. I’ll see you soon, alright? Enjoy your walk.”

When Anine had left, Abel turned back to his father and swallowed down the truth. It felt good to talk to him again and realize that, despite his failing body, his mind was as sharp as ever. He was still the same Roy he had been twenty years ago, thirty years ago. Before he had even realized it, an hour had gone by and the nurse stopped in to inform them both that Roy would be needing to attend dinner soon.

“I’m going to text Anine,” Abel explained, standing up, “Why don’t you go to dinner, pops? Maybe we can meet up again tomorrow.” He said as he typed in the text and sent it off to Anine, expecting a quick response. “We’ll see what she says.”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

But there was no quick response. There was no reply at all. Her phone buzzed with the message where it had been tossed in the grass beside the pond, but Anine was not there to answer it. Some time later, Anine woke in a cold, concrete room, her head pounding, ears ringing. Her arms were suspended above her head, thick metal cuffs chained to a pipe. There was a hissing sound, steam, no doubt, running through the pipe, but otherwise there was little indication of where exactly she'd wound up. Pain splintered through her shoulders, which felt oddly out of joint and her hands carried no sensation whatsoever, a quick glance revealing slightly swollen, purple-tinged fingers.

A quick look around revealed very little else. There was the pipe over head, a metal chain with a slightly rusted finish and a thick door with no discernible handle from her side. Rather suddenly, with an echoing creek, the door swung open and a woman stepped in. The same woman who had shot Anine with the taser. Pulling the chair close, she sank onto it with the delicacy of a young maiden at tea, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Welcome back, Ms. Greyhart. You've been out for quite a while."

Eyes narrowing, Anine stared down at the woman with what she hoped was a defiant expression, "Yeah, well. That happens when some bitch in tacky heels tases you."

Frowning softly, the woman glanced down at her shoes, "These are Manolo Blahnik's..."

"...Is this part of my torture? Brand dropping...?"

"Oh, my dear Ms. Greyhart." A giggle escaped her pursed lips, the sort that belonged to a much younger woman, driving a chill down Anine's spine, "We're not going to torture you. We won't need to. You are going to do exactly what we want... and we won't need to lift a finger to you."

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Because, Anine..." Looking up, icy blue eyes met her gaze, her lip twitching into a smirk, "About four minutes ago, you were given a heavily concentrated dose of Bolt. In about half an hour, you won't remember your own name." Rising, the woman bowed her head in a nod, "Good night, my dear."

 
Last edited:
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Nav
mPbnvEj.png

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tripel, we have no additional information.”

No additional information. No additional information. No god damn additional information. It was the same every time, no matter how many times he called. Thanking the woman on the other end of the mobile, Abel quietly ended the call and slid his cellphone into the center console of his rental car before sliding out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him. They had assured him they would do everything they could to find her, after she had disappeared, but trails ran cold and no new ones came up. Anine Greyhart had become a dusty file on the desks of the detectives, swept away for newer cases. Abel never forgot Anine though and he called every week. Every Friday at exactly three pm. The receptionist who always answered seemed to genuinely feel for his plight, and seemed hesitant every time she had to tell him that there was nothing new to be shared.

He abandoned his practice and stayed in Florida, hoping some news would eventually come about. Even when the head detective told him, with a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, that he should begin to work on moving on… on going back to work, on doing something other than waiting for Anine, Abel could only smile sadly and tell him ‘I can’t.’

And now, several months later, Abel found himself at his father’s funeral. The day of the funeral, Abel found himself dressed in a black jacket and cords, preparing to be surrounded by people he had never met. Roy Tripel was buried in Temkin Cemetary on Fulkner Road, just in the shadow of the old law office up the street. Abel knew his father would have preffered to be buried on a warm Wednesday afternoon, but it was morning, raining, and a Thursday. The light mist coated his jacket and saturated the fabric. He had skipped the wake and had gone straight to the cemetery. From the wake, about thirty people had turned up for the funeral. Most of them were older men and women, from the home, but a few of his former clients and colleagues also arrived.

A grave had been dug close to the land that ran the length of the cemetery and as the service began, a black Rolls Royce drew up, the back door opened, and a woman got out. Abel’s eyes immediately found her as she approached. She slid up next to him, her gloved hand sliding across his shoulder as she leaned in. Red lipstick lips curled close to his ear. “What a shame, Mr. Tripel, about your father.” The woman moved off to the opposite side of the service before he had a chance to catch her before the priest began. Something about the woman against the stormy grey skies made his stomach churn and his instincts to bristle.

He had went to try and find her after the service, but after getting caught up by a few of his father’s friends, he could only watch as the Rolls Royce drove off.
 
KGSA6Z8.png

"It's so damn sad. Same time, every week... like a freakin' clock. I just can't stand it anymore. The poor guy..." Pushing the file across her fingernail, Gretchen sank back in her seat, her eyes roving over the paperwork once more.

"I told you, Gretchen... There is nothing we can do for him. There's just no information, and at this point, we'd be wasting resources. It's been weeks. Even if she were still alive out there, there's no way that she'd be in Florida. Best thing we can do for Mr. Tripel is just... cut him off. He calls again, you divert the call to my office and I'll speak with him."

"Sure thing, Chief." A sigh escaped, and Gretchen reached to close to the folder, but as her eyes rose from the desk she froze, straightening up in her seat, "Chief! Look at the TV!"

The man spun, his eyes moving to the small television in the corner and as he took in the images on the screen, his eyes widened, "Is this legit?"

"...Six o'clock news, Sir." Gretchen offered.

"Call him." But before he could finish, Gretchen was already dialing Abel Tripel's cell number.


She'd been left on the side of the road like an empty fast-food cup, tossed out of a white van while it was still in motion. It had been a group of teens on their way to a movie who had found her, and called the EMTs. She had collapsed in and out of consciousness the entire ride to the hospital, and upon arrival, spent several hours in the trauma ward, where multiple bones were set and she was treated for acute dehydration.

Her charts, when pulled up, indicated she had lost nearly twenty pounds, and the fragility of her form was of grave concern.

Her ID card had been dropped beside her, and upon discovering that she had been listed as a missing person for several weeks, now, the police were called in... This, incidentally, alerted the news media, who picked up the story without hesitation.

Most of this had been relayed to Anine as she lay in a bed in the ICU ward as Hopkins General... but absolutely none of it registered. Her memory, they said, would undoubtedly return to her, but for now it was important that she rest and recover... The police had arrived shortly after the media - but the doctors insisted that questioning wait until the following morning. After that, she had been left alone, the lights turned down low, her eyes fixed, staring at the pale ceiling.

She was Anine Greyhart... a detective with the NYPD. Her boyfriend was Abel Tripel, the assistant District Attorney. They were on vacation in Florida. She had left him, to speak to his father at a nursing home...

Somewhere along the way, she had lost nearly two and a half months...

Someone had stolen it.

And to hell with the doctors... She wanted it back.
 
Last edited:
mPbnvEj.png

Arriving at his motel room, which had been home now for several momths, Abel pulled off his jacket and tossed it across the armchair. There was no one left for him in the world, at it cut into him deep to know that not only was Anine gone, but so was his father. The feeling of loss was catastrophic, but it was the guilt that was overwhelming. The guilt for Anine going missing and wondering if there was more he could have done, the guilt for not spending more time with his father before the man had passed. The guilt of making all the wrong decisions. It sat like gasoline in his guts, like his insides were dying slowly from the toxicity just waiting for one more spark to set it all ablaze.

Still, the fire burned him out so badly there was nothing left but the outline of a person. He didn’t need to work as he had accumulated more than enough to survive for many, many months without work. So, he didn’t. He didn’t do much of anything. He didn’t eat very much, he hardly slept. He felt like death and probably looked it, too—more than a few people had asked him if he was alright when he’d go to the grocery store.

It seemed unfair that no matter how much he strived to do something with himself, to forgive himself for what happened to Anine, to his father, they never went away. Each time the regrets would reemerge and he’d diligently analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his remorse, but it never was. Just when hethought he had reached the lowest point he could, his phone rang. It rang often, actually. People from back home would call, checking in… seeing if there was anything they could do. The gesture was nice but it was hollow. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to rummage through his coat and find his mobile, perhaps just to shut the noise off but seeing the number, his brows raised.

“Hello?” he answered.



“Hello,” Abel swiped hair that had fallen across his forehead back again. His hands were resting on the white desk and he was leaning over it, looking down to the receptionist who had waived him up to her box. “I’m here to see Anine Greyhart?”

The woman looked skeptical for a moment, “You with some news channel? She is not in any condition to see the news. I have no comments.”

“What?” Abel jolted, surprised by the harshness, “No… no, no, no, my name is Abel Tripel. I’m her family.” He wasn’t really, at least not in blood, but she was his family. She was all he had left, damnit.

The woman brightened considerably, her face warming. “Oh, yes, there was a police officer in here earlier saying you’d show up. Of course, her room is 257—just take that hallway…” But before she could even give him directions, he had pushed off the counter and trotted down the hall.

His heart was slamming in his chest. He thought he would have been more excited in this moment, which he had dreamed about thousands of times since she had disappeared, but all he could feel was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect. What if she had forgotten him? What if she was afraid? What if her injuries were so extensive she wouldn’t recover? Swallowing down the bubbling feeling of nausea, Abel found his stride shortening as he approached her room. The door was open just a crack and his hand fell on the handle with pause. He inhaled sharply, his pulse pounding at his temples as he tried to steady his restless gut still threatening to vomit.

He counted to three, closed his eyes, and pushed open the door between his heartbeats. “Anine?”
 
  • Love
Reactions: Elle Joyner
KGSA6Z8.png

For a moment, only a moment, Anine said nothing. The darkness in the room and the medicine pumped into her through the IV made everything a little foggy, and through the daze she had imagined Abel coming through that door more times than she was even conscious of. After everything that had happened, the bits she remember and those she didn't, he was the only person she wanted to see, and so desperately that it hurt.

Every time the door opened and another nurse stepped in to check on her, or change the IV, or tell her what the next steps were going to be, she let her emotions get the better of her and for a few split seconds allowed herself to believe that it was him. She could see him, that lopsided smiled, that messy mop of hair. He'd peer at her with those stunning, warm eyes, cock his head to the side and tell her that everything would be alright.

So when it actually was Abel, there was such momentary confusion that she could think of nothing to say, no way to react. But then he spoke, and it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. Tears stung at her eyes and through the haze of drugs and pain, using the arm not enclosed in a sling, she pushed herself upright.

"Hey..." Was all she could manage, through the cloying knot in her throat, before the tears began to fall.
 
Last edited:
  • Love
Reactions: Nav
mPbnvEj.png

He wasn’t sure if he could even believe his eyes anymore because it felt like they were lying to him. He knew he was smart, IQ tests and professors had always told him so, but maybe his intelligence was betraying him. Perhaps she wasn’t really. It was hard to believe she was real after so many people had tried to kindly hint that Anine wasn’t coming back. No one believed she would, not after being gone for more than a few weeks, and after so long, even Abel had begun to believe she wouldn’t return. He especially didn’t believe she’d return alive. In a body-bag, perhaps… dug up by some farmer or hunter who stumbled upon her body that had been dumped.

He had assumed the worst, yet there she was. She was alive, though judging by her facial expressions, he couldn’t tell if she wanted to be.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured tenderly, stepping closer. He moved with hesitation, even as she sat up. No amount of lawyer work had prepared him for this moment. He wasn’t sure there was anything in the world that could have prepared him for that moment. It took every ounce of willpower he owned to not run to her and scoop her up into his arms, nuzzle his nose into her hair just to prove to himself that she was real. He didn’t think she needed that right away, but he didn’t know what she needed. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. All he knew was that he felt his heart aching in his chest. “Hey, hey,” his voice grew quieter as he reached the edge of her bed, crouching down so he could be eye-level with her.

She looked rough. Bruises painted her skin, she looked thin, and he couldn’t remember a time he had ever seen her cry. “I’ve been waiting a really long time to see you again.” He reached towards her bedside table, grabbing the pack of tissues and extending them to her. In law school, they always told him never to touch a recent trauma victim unless they invited you, as touching could cause them to react from their memories and that was the last thing he wanted to do to Anine.

In his own throat, he felt a growing lump that was making it hard to breathe. Abel didn’t cry, either. He hated it, but all he wanted to do was release all the pressure that had building in his head for the last few months. Nothing was perfect—Anine was broken, hell, he was broken too—but she was here and that was exactly what he needed. The road ahead of them had grown considerably rougher, but after her disappearance, he knew immediately he would be with her through all of her healing and recovery—mental, physical, spiritual.

“I missed you.”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

He came closer... hesitantly, but she understood. She hadn't seen herself, she hadn't wanted to, but the doctors had told her the extent of her injuries, and she saw it in the eyes of her nurses. Six weeks was a long time and whatever had been done to her, whatever she had endured... survived... they had not been kind to her. Still, she was alive and that was something. She was alive, and Abel was here... and that was really all that mattered.

He sank down beside the bed and held out the tissues to her, but Anine brushed the box aside and wordlessly, flung her arm around his neck, ignoring the stitch of pain that ran through her as she held on to him, her lifeline... her sanctuary, as tightly as she dared to. She had survived. Somehow. She had survived - and she wanted to think, had to think that he had something to do with that. She knew it, even if she couldn't remember, that he was the reason that she had pushed through. Because she couldn't, no... She wouldn't leave him.

Burrowing into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, she closed her eyes, her fingers curling tight into the fabric of his shirt. He felt substantial, and she couldn't think of anything she needed more in that moment than to just... hang on to something real. The tears came naturally, which felt strange, but she didn't hold them back. All her life she had fought to be the strong one, fought to be bigger than her emotions, but after what had happened it felt like a betrayal not to let them tears come. She wasn't above them... and she couldn't pretend otherwise. She needed to feel, if she was going to get past it.

"I missed you, too." She breathed. In reality she had no way of knowing if it were true or not, but her heart told her enough that it was, "I'm so sorry, Abel. I'm so, so sorry..."
 
Last edited:
mPbnvEj.png

She didn’t hug him so much as burrowed into his chest and flung her weight into him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in his stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. He sunk against the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. Her touch made the room warmer somehow—his future within it a little less bleak. Moisture collected on his button-up where she rested her shoulder and continued to cry, letting out all the stress and pain of her situation. He hadn’t any idea what had happened to her, and he probably never would in whole, but he didn’t care.

Whatever had happened to her had happened was over and she was with him, in a hospital room, and safe in his arms. Everything that was coming quickly on their horizon wasn’t something he was going to worry about in that moment. All that mattered, for a few seconds, was that she was there. The rest would come.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, “Don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize.” He resisted the urge to apologize himself—to beg for forgiveness for letting what had happened to her happen. At the end of the day, an apology would do nothing. It wouldn’t fix either of their wounds, it wouldn’t reverse time, it wouldn’t change an outcome. He didn’t want to hear her apologize; he just wanted her to know that she had done nothing wrong. A knock came at the door, disrupting the moment and caused Abel to rock back on his heels as he glanced over his shoulder. In came a nurse a moment later, her startled expression transitioning quickly into acceptance.

“Ms. Greyhart? I’m going to need to take some blood,” she explained, setting up on a side cart with the needle and tubes. “We just need to check in and see what’s going on in there, alright? It’s no big deal. We just got to make sure you are getting all the nutrients you need in your IV, that’s all.”

Abel perched up, pressing a kiss into Anine’s cheek before he stepped away so the nurse could swab clean her arm and draw the blood.
 
KGSA6Z8.png

As the needle drove into her arm, breaking past the thin skin in the crook of her elbow butAnine seemed barely to acknowledge the slight pinch. Her eyes followed the dark crimson that swiftly filled the syringe. Another followed, then a third, but Anine was elsewhere, her mind, elsewhere. She could see it... at the back of her mind, faint and foggy, but a memory - something familiar. Something that felt nearly forbidden.

There had been needles, jabbed into her arms, her thigh, her stomach... In a room, a concrete room. Her eyes flickered to her wrists... bandaged from the palm, halfway to her elbow. There had been ligature marks, deep grooves. Bruises that ran bone deep. They were from shackles. She'd been chained... chained in that cold, concrete room.

But why? What had been done to her? What had been in those needles? Had they given her something, or taken something? And who were they?

As she tried to push through the haze, rather unexpectedly, she felt a tension rise in her chest and the monitor by her bedside gave a frantic, shrill cry. Pulling back, the nurse looked at it, eyes widening with alarm. Pulling out the needle and situating a gauze pad over the small prick mark, she undid the rubber binding.

"Ms. Greyhart... Try to relax. It... it's alright. All finished." Her eyes still watching the monitor, she frowned and straightening, she adjusted the IV drip before turning to Abel, "Might be best if you go and let her get some rest."

"No!" Shifting, the machine giving an irritated beep again, Anine shook her head frantically, "No. Please. I... I want him to stay. I need him to stay. Please don't make him leave."

"Okay. Okay... Relax, Ms. Greyhart, please. He can stay, so long as he lets you get some sleep."
 
mPbnvEj.png

The outburst was so unlike Anine, it caused Abel to jump. He had sort of gazed off out the window, his eyes misting over as he contemplated all that was happening. He felt unfiltered joy coursing through his chest, but also nervousness, uncertainty, and fear. Not a herd of wild horses could pull him away from Anine’s side, but he worried that he wouldn’t be able to help her. She had endured a great deal of stress, her injuries showed that and that sort of stress and torture didn’t just wash away in one’s head. Those demons would never go away, not entirely, and Abel couldn’t help but wonder if he could make it any easier for her.

Still, her yelping and barking caused his head to snap back and his eyes to focus in at attention. It troubled him, knowing it was only the tip of the iceberg for her. Whatever shambles her psyche were in, it wasn’t good. “Anine,” he said, his gaze flicking from the machine to her face back to the machine again. The monitor was yelping like a kicked puppy as her heartrate suddenly spiked. “Anine, I’m not going anywhere.” Even if the nurse had showed him out, he wouldn’t have gone. If she needed rest, he would have sat quietly in the corner, but he wuoldn’t have left… though he wasn’t sure if that was more for her or himself. Her psyche might have been damaged, but his was too… he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave her alone in a room yet, though that was more on him than her.

His facial expressions softened as he edged closer to the bed, “You know,” he began slowly, taking a seat on the little stool at the head of her bed, “They say you lost a lot of your memory and maybe you don’t remember, but I have a little niece named Ophelia. She calls me, sometimes. It was her birthday a few weeks ago and I sent her a few presents. Anyways, we talk on the phone and she likes to ask about you. You two have never met, but she had already told me you’re pretty because she ‘just knows.’” He settled and let his hands fall into his lap.

He didn’t know what to do, but it felt like the right thing—just talk to her, like she was a normal human being because she was. She didn’t need his fawning or his cooing. She just needed company and maybe some normal, not-talking-about-what-had-happened-to-her conversation.

“Anyways, she sent me a drawing she drew,” he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the little piece of folded paper. Inside, was a crayon drawing with Ophelia’s lopsided printed signature to the bottom. There was a house in a big city with four people out front. They were all just stick people, but Abel pointed out each one. “She drew this because she has said we need to go visit her. This one is Ophelia here, and this is Ophelia’s mom… here is me, and this one is you.” He chuckled softly. Anine was nothing more than a pink triangle with black lines for legs and arms and a head with scribbled in blonde hair, “She got the hair right, at least.”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

The nurse, having been defeated by Anine's brief tirade collected her samples and with a shake of her head, made for the door. She wasn't going to argue - Anine could tell from the expression of pity she'd worn as she stepped into the room. Was this how people were going to treat her? Like a sad, pathetic victim? For how long? Would she ever feel distinctly normal again? This wasn't her. She was strong and independent, and someone had gone to a lot of trouble to take that away from her.

But who? And why?

Tears of frustration stung hard behind her eyes and blinking them away, she turned to Abel as he spoke. For a moment, she couldn't quite track what he was saying, but as he continued, she seemed to settle, curling back against her pillow with a concentrated effort to relax. It was strange how someone who had claimed to know so little about women, about romance, about being in a relationship could know exactly what she needed in those moments...

As he pulled out the picture, Anine looked to it and biting her lip, she shook her head. She'd never met his niece, but she remembered seeing the pictures on his wall in his office. It had been one of the first times she had seen a side of him that felt distinctly human. When she'd started to realize that he was more than just a vain, pompous lawyer who had unfortunately won her case in a game of rock, paper, scissors.

In a lot of ways, Ophelia had brought them together... and now, it seemed, the little angel was bringing her back to a place of calm. Glancing up to Abel, her eyes damp with tears, she smiled faintly, "...I want that, Abel. I... I never thought I did. But it's so clear now. I... I want a family. I want the pictures on the fridge and the little shoes and the bedtime stories. I... I came so close to... to not being here, and I don't... I won't waste this chance."
 
mPbnvEj.png

Family.

That was a hard word to wrap his brain around because even as a child, he didn’t think he wanted it. Seeing his father struggle, knowing his mother had abandoned him, watching his father die, watching his friends get married… then divorced, he had never thought he wanted it. Truthfully, he hadn’t even wanted it when Anine first brought it to him. She had never meant to be here, he had never meant to spend months of his life looking for a woman in a distressed, rundown, destroyed state. This wasn’t the plan. Anine wasn’t the plan, kids weren’t the plan. The plan had always been to live single, die single, and get as far into his career as he could and now he was on indefinite leave from the DA’s office and he knew if he didn’t get back soon, he’d lose his job.

But he didn’t want that, either.

He didn’t want to lose his job. He loved his job, his ambitions, his career... he loved climbing up the social ladder and becoming a better lawyer. He loved being in court and doing what he believed was right. The problems always seemed to come when people tried to get greedy and take both. It was hard to imagine there was a fine line somewhere in the middle that he could toe precariously between Anine and career. Yet, he found his brain reminding him that he had given up everything when she had gone missing—because he wanted to, because he needed to.

Abel softened in her presence. His snarkniess receded and he was friendly, warm, and a complete stranger to himself. The Abel he was with Anine was not the Abel he had ever been before, but it didn’t feel like a foreign identity. “You came very close to a lot of things, Anine,” he said, leaning over and pressing a kiss against her lips, the taste of saline edging into the corner of his mouth from her tears that continued to soak down her bruised face. Truthfully, this wasn’t the Anine had knew, either. Not entirely. Whatever had happened to her had scared her something fierce, and he couldn’t blame her for that.

“Tell you what,” He said, sitting back and offering a small smile, “Why don’t we, when you’re feeling up to it, go visit my niece? She’s not actually related to me by blood, I don’t have siblings… but her mother and I go way back. We’ll meet them, and we’ll go from there, alright? I know it seems like the world is ending and that you’re running out of time—but you’re not. We’re not, okay? We’ll start there, but right now, what you need to worry about it is getting better. Are you tired at all? The nurse said you should rest.”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

For a moment, she felt almost normal, caught up in the idea of the future... A future, with Abel. But the more she thought about his words, the more she realized what it undoubtedly meant. It was common, really... in most situations like hers for one's significant other to feel anxious about the relationship. She was a mess, and he was probably expecting her to get worse, until she'd devolved into a pitiful shell of her former self.

He'd put a pin in it... but at the end of the day, it felt more like a dismissal than a promise, and why not? Preparing a future with someone you weren't sure wasn't going to come unhinged at any moment was a scary thing, and she didn't blame him for not wanting to consider it. Not with her, anyway. She could try and keep herself together, try to pick up the pieces, but the damage was done... He, like the nurses and the doctors, was only ever going to see a broken, fragile woman... Someone to be coddled, someone to be guarded around.

"Yeah. Sure... That... that'd be nice, I guess." Shifting, looking away, she shook her head. The medicine filled her head with a fog and she knew that sleep would be beneficial, that eventually she wouldn't be able to fight it, even if she really wanted to, but already she was tired of the hospital, of everyone treating her like porcelain.

"I'm fine." She muttered, picking at the tape around her IV port, "I'm tired of sleeping."
 
mPbnvEj.png

It had been the wrong thing to say and he knew it almost immediately.

He wanted to try and explain his inner-most thoughts, that it wasn’t that he was doubting her and his relationship with her, but the idea of kids sent his brain into a little bit of a frenzy. It was a large jump—going from not even sure he wanted to be in a relationship, to knowing he did want to be one, to the child discussion. It didn’t help that his own view of family was so skewed and messed up that he didn’t even know what a real parent-child relationship should look at. Looking down at his feet, shifting his leather dress shoes against the pale tan tile, Abel took a moment to let the breath he had been holding since Anine had gone missing escape him from between his lips.

This felt like the worst possible time for this conversation, given the situations they both had been in for so many weeks, but the cold shoulder Anine had just given him could not be so easily ignored. “Anine,” he said, his voice stern but warm, “A year ago if you would have asked me about kids, I would have laughed and vehemently said ‘no.’ I would have even told you that I didn’t want a serious relationship, not ever, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Just… humor me a little, would you?” he looked up to her, his eyes the colour of sunlight shining through whiskey, “I’m just a little slow, you know? I’ll get there just… not as fast as everyone else.” He didn’t know where Anine would end up at the end of all of this; he had only just gotten her back. The extent of her injuries, both internal and external, were still secret to him, but his girlfriend was down there. Of that much he was sure; she was too strong not to be.

As she began to pick at the tape on her IV needle, he reached over and stole her hand, capturing it in his own. “Well, then we won’t sleep.” He wanted to talk about something, anything, but any question that popped into his head felt inappropriate. He couldn’t even talk about himself, seeing as he had only just come from his father’s funeral…. And that he had been living in a small motel room for weeks and that he knew the entire police station had, for a very short amount time, had thought he had killed his own girlfriend.

It felt like a first date, all over again. The awkward shuffling of thoughts, nervously glancing down at his feet in presence of such a pretty woman, second-guessing everything he was about to say. It troubled him to see her give him a quiet shove back as she just had.

“Well, do you want something to eat?”
 
KGSA6Z8.png

There was something to say for Abel's patience... How much it had grown over the last few months. When they had first met, he had been sharp and strong willed, and any sign of conflict seemed to be a pretty good excuse to throw up his hands and quit. Their relationship had nearly fallen apart on more than a few occasions, over some ridiculous incidents, and for a while it seemed unlikely they'd make it at all. For him to have come so far as he had was, frankly, a bit of a miracle and she should've known better than to expect more from him than that.

He explained himself, and frustratingly, Anine felt her eyes stinging again. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head and looking back up at him, she reached out, taking hold of his hand, "I'm sorry, Abel. I... I'm just... It's a mess up here, in my head, and I'm still trying to sort things out. I guess I just liked the idea of moving past it, of something maybe not so awful or freaky. But you're right. It... it's not something we need to rush." Shutting her eyes for a moment, taking a slow, deep breath, she released his hand, rubbing her forehead, "I'm just so confused... about everything. I'm scared, Abel. And I hate it. This isn't me, and I hate it..."

Opening her eyes again, she sank back against the pillow, rubbing a fingertip over the small bandage the nurse had pressed over the prick mark, "They... they told me you never stopped calling. When they found me? They said you called every day... to ask if there was any information." Smiling gingerly, she turned her eyes from the bandaid up to Abel, "If you were trying to earn brownie points, you were definitely successful. I'm totally impressed, and I think the receptionist has a pretty big crush on you."
 
mPbnvEj.png

And Abel had come very far, indeed.

He was sure that if anyone from back home would have seen him now—waiting for a beautiful woman he loved in a hospital room, easing himself into the idea of children—they would have balked and wondered where the Abel they had known had gone. He had changed, but he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was still the same Abel. Still always a little hesitant to dive into anything, especially if it meant commitment. For her, though, he had given up so much: his life, his career, his way of doing things, and it felt ok. It stung a little, to watch his career that he had worked so hard for fall to the wayside, but that’s what people did for eachother when they cared. They sacrificed.

Anine, however, was a rollercoaster of emotions. He didn’t know how to keep up, but he reminded himself not to get frustrated. She was in a hurting place and his own relief of seeing her still hadn’t worn off. Every time he looked at her, he wondered if she was real or if he’d blink and she’d be gone. It was his worst fear… to be given, only to have taken away. Madness of not, it didn’t matter. She was there and he only very briefly took his vision away from her. “I know you are,” she released his hand though he kept it near her, right on the edge of her bedside in case she needed it again. “I know you’re hurting and your scared, confused, but it’ll get better. I don’t know how, but it will. I’ll make sure it does.”

He had been dreaming of this moment for a long time. He had always told himself that the first thing he’d want to do was seek justice against whoever had done this to her… to see the man, woman, or group who had taken Anine and dug their nails into her mind be punished to the full extent of the law. He didn’t, not he like he had dreamed he would. He just wanted Anine. He wanted her smile and her laugh. He wanted her terrible jokes and her eye rolls when he said something stupid. That’s what he wanted and seeing her in such a state was taxing.

“Of course I never stoped calling,” he snorted as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “Whether they found you after a day or in twenty years, I never would have stopped…. Wait, the receptionist who?” Every time he had called the station, it had only been about Anine… he couldn’t even remember a receptionist.

“We’re family, Anine. You’re all I got left, you know, so I’m not going to let you go so easy.”