Transformation

[Acorn]

He sat back and smiled at her as she picked up the conversation. Leon was sure he could spend the day watching her and be happy. Even under the harsh fluorescent light, she was beautiful, and he loved how animated her face became when she spoke. He wanted to memorize every smirk, every eyebrow quirk, every smile. Fortunately for him, they were plentiful and she was one of the few people he figured he'd see on a regular basis; it wouldn't be a difficult task.

Leon glanced down at his leg when she asked about it and made a noise of protest. "Wasn't babying it. I just... favored it. I got shot you know, with silver. Which, in case you didn't realize, hurts me a lot more than a regular bullet." He blinked and pursed his lips. "Not that I've been shot with a regular bullet to know the difference." Leon hadn't made a habit of putting himself into situations where that could happen, irresponsibility that had led him to his current situation aside.

"Johanna said you did a good job bandaging me, by the way." He cleared his throat. "It was more of an approving grunt than actual words, but from her, it means a lot."

 

[Meraki]

"Yeah, yeah," Rita teased, "but you also heal at the speed of light."

She knew how much it must have hurt to be shot twice, let alone with silver bullets, and she was genuinely impressed at how well he was managing the pain. These were strange circumstances to heal under, but despite his terrible lot in life, he seemed to be maintaining a balance that allowed him to heal without complication. At his next words, Rita let out a bright, genuine laugh. "Johanna?" she exclaimed, "I have never been able to make that woman crack a smile, let alone grunt approvingly. That's a pretty high honor from her. I'll be sure to hold onto that one the next six hundred times she grunts at me like I'm an idiot."

"I'm just glad I didn't make it worse," she shook her head with a smirk, "I have never treated a bullet wound before, I just was pretty good at wrapping my shins and ankles for track in college. I mean, they teach you all that stuff – trauma first aid – when you become an Enforcer but I was far more adept at the running and the shooting."

Rita couldn't remember the last time she had a real genuine conversation. Sure, she went to investors' homes and benefits, trying to help fund their little excursion here, and she had co-workers but Rita didn't talk much, not about herself anyway. It had been ages since she'd spoken of her hometown or her family or the sports she played in college. They all just seemed so unimportant after Chase's passing, but here they were coming to light as though they were the easiest topics in the world. It helped, of course, that Leon was quite possibly one of the most genuine and kind people she had ever met. The smile he wore was warm and inviting even when she knew this environment was anything but warm.

She admired him for that – it showed a lot of strength.

"Don't worry though, when it turns out to be a shit job and your leg scars," she joked, "at least you'll have something to remind you of me."

 

[Acorn]

He was glad she immediately recognized what a big deal Johanna's approval was; it meant she'd caught the woman's scorn, too, and it made him feel a little less isolated. Mentioning the part where the old nurse had broken character again when she extended pity his way was out of the question, though, because they were laughing and having a good time, and he wasn't about to be the downer who ruined the moment.

And she'd never treated a bullet wound before? If she hadn't said anything, he never would've guessed. She'd been entirely sure of herself in the situation, making him think she'd done it dozens of times before. Her school and first-aid background explained it somewhat, but he was more inclined to think it had to do with her confidence and ability to keep a cool head in a tense situation. If he had to deal with someone bleeding, he wasn't sure he'd accomplish more than calling in someone else who had some idea what the hell they were doing.

"Oh, it'll scar." He grinned, flashing white and orthodontically straightened teeth. "And I'll hold you responsible for all of them, now." Between his heavily scarred arm, the slice taken out of his shoulder, and the two bullet wounds, he would win all the scar stories. He just needed to come up with some convincing tales that didn't involve werewolves and beautiful Enforcers.

The gray wall behind Rita came into sudden, painful focus, and once he paid it attention again, his smile faded and he licked his lips. "If you've got time," he said abruptly, "I'd like to get out of here for a while. I know the jailbreak is still a way's out, but a walk would great."

 

[Meraki]

"Oh, will you now?" Rita laughed.

It was a light joke between the two of them, far too light for the heaviness of the air in the room. She knew no matter what, he'd never be able to tell anyone about what happened, but it could be something kept between just the two of them. The light in a dark situation – a never ending darkness, really. She pushed herself off the edge of the table and took a few steps towards him. His words sort of fell into an abrupt need and Rita could not help but feel like her heart strings were being tugged and toyed. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like – to endure the curse of being a werewolf and yet remaining in the same room day in and day out with no reprieve from the madness. At least she had something to drown her own thoughts in, but he had nothing.

Nothing but her, really, and that was a strange thought.

"I've got all the time in the world," she offered back, more than willing to catch up on work later. She had no aversion to working late and she assumed tonight would be no exception. "There's not much to see, but I can definitely manage a walk. Not quite a jailbreak, but probably the best I can offer this time around." She had spoken to Jenny that morning about it and in between knowing glances and cocked heads, the two had come to an agreement. Rita could take Leon out of his cell, but he was her responsibility when he was in the facility. If he, by any chance, broke out during their walks it would be on her head, but she knew he wouldn't. There was just an unspoken agreement between them.

Jenny had just seemed amused that Rita was speaking with anyone.

"Come on," she smiled, "there's not much to see but there's plenty of space to wander. Let's see if we can't curb that stir-crazy just a little. Need any help getting up?"

 

[Acorn]

Not much to see? He imagined anything would be better than staring at the same four walls for hours on end. Even if they only walked through the cell block and back, he'd be happy. And if they could get to a level that had a window so he could see the world for a bit, he'd be elated. It hadn't even been a full day since he'd entered the Enforcer base, and already he doubted the existence of a sky, trees, and birds. It frightened him that a long-term stay might mean he'd forget things and he wondered if he should ask Rita to help him out with that. First thing was first, though. He needed to get out of there.

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh, so you can pick at me for babying my leg? No thank you. I got this, don't you worry." He grunted as he got to his feet, and swore when he took a step towards his crutches before he remembered why he was going for his crutches in the first place. He grabbed and got them situated under his arms, then smiled winningly at her.

"See?" He pushed himself forward, his good leg and crutches supporting all his weight and his injured one lifted slightly off the ground. The black rubber leg pads squeaked as he moved. "All under control."

 

[Meraki]

Rita watched with an amused grin as he brushed off her help to prove himself. It was definitely a little funny and she did not move to help as he managed to grab his crutches and settle them beneath his arms. His expression looked like he had won some sort of bet, but it was infectious and soon she found herself smiling too even if she was trying to shake it away with ever movement of her head. "Yeah, yeah," she quipped back with a laugh, "that's one way to describe it."

With him settled in his crutches, Rita led the way from the room and keyed out, the door opening before them. There weren't many nice places in the facility, but she could think of a few places that might be a lot less intrusive and with far less company than they were sure to find down here. After all, the day after a full moon was pretty dead in the rest of the office unless you were someone like Rita. Jackson and the others would be spending time out at bars and hyping one another up over how strong they were in the field. The boys always invited Rita out, but she never went much. There just didn't seem to be use for it.

And sometimes Jackson eyed her a bit too much. She blamed it on the divorce, but it was still unsettling at times despite the fact she could very much stand up for herself.

"There's a work lounge up on the fourth floor. Huge bay windows, couches, coffee. No one ever uses it besides me because no one tends to like to spend their free time at work, but it's pretty nice. There are a couple windows that open too, if you want some fresh air. It's probably the closest I can offer to an out-of-facility experience."

"Otherwise," she extended her arm to show him all the wonder of the hallways, "We have these stunning grey hallways and this nice grey floor, and a few grey cubicles if you go up a floor."

 

[Acorn]

The air vented into the hallways was no different than the air that vented into his cell, but as soon as they left the tiny room, it became easier to breathe. He strayed behind Rita, inhaling and exhaling slowly, the tension he didn't realize he'd been holding onto melting off him. He'd thought he'd be happy if he could only escape the cell for a time, but when she mentioned the alternative of windows, couches, and coffee, Leon's whole face lit up.

"You're serious?" He closed the small gap between them. "You are. Hell yeah, let's go to the fourth floor."

His enthusiasm for the lounge room didn't diminish when it turned out to be an upscale version of any other office lounge he'd been in. The furniture — couches and several tables with matching chairs — looked like it'd been picked from some glossy magazine where the items on a single page would cost more than he managed to scrape together in a year; it was all intimidatingly modern and sleek. Everything on the counters, from the sink to the espresso machine, was matching black and stainless steel. The only real splash of color came from the abstract artwork that adorned the walls, and from the open windows.

"Wow," he said after they entered the room fully. It was empty except for them, as Rita had suspected. "This is… Wow."

Despite the room's stark black and silver palette, the sunlight beaming through the windows made it feel a thousand times warmer than the lower levels of the facility. He made a beeline for the largest window and took in what might be a disappointing view for anyone other than him. All he could see was a nearly empty parking lot, more office buildings, and several thin trees sprinkled throughout. But there was also the sky; it was blue and clear except for a few wispy clouds. And the grass, few patches that there were, was a fresh, vivid green not unlike Rita's eyes.

A few crows fought over what looked like an abandoned McDonald's bag, tearing at the brown paper and plucking at the fries that spilled out. Normally, he would've complained about litterbugs, but he drank in the birds' activity thirstily.

 

[Meraki]

Rita couldn't help but smile at the way his face lit up. It was such a bright wattage that it could have lit up the entire room. It wasn't as much as he was making it out to be, but she could understand how much better it was than what he was used to in that cell. There was fresh air here, sunshine, and Rita liked it plenty. There was only one way she could focus and that was to come up here, kick her shoes off and slip onto one of the couches with a cup of coffee. It was quiet, too, enough that she could hear herself think. "It's not much, but I like coming up here," she said as she moved to thumb through some of the manila folders she left on the coffee table and straighten them up. "Not really the best view either, but at least you've got some trees and a bird or two."

She slipped towards the counter and took off the already made coffee pot she'd started just before heading down to visit Leon. She poured herself a cup and left it black, opting for something a little stronger to keep her upright and functioning. "You can help yourself to anything, really. There's not much but there's soda in that little mini-fridge and plenty of coffee. I'm good about keeping it on most days."

She slipped her shoes off and climbed up on the couch, curled up against the armrest with her coffee in hands. She took a deep sip and let the warmth reignite her tired insides. Brushing some of her hair out of her face, she looked up and smiled and the image of him enthralled with the outside world.

"We can come up here whenever you want," she offered, "I usually make my nest up here. As you can probably tell. It's out of the bullpen, which is why I like it so much."

 

[Acorn]

"Yeah, this is great." He watched the crows until they took off, leaving the mangled mess of a bag behind them. Around the same time, there was the distinct sound of liquid splashing into a cup and a glass carafe tinging against metal, but he didn't turn from the window until he heard the click clack of her heels and then the creaking of leather as she sat down. He'd been prepared to say something inane about crows and fries, but seeing Rita cozied up with her coffee was such an image of casual elegance that the words dried up in his mouth.

She belonged in the magazine with all the other unobtainable things, he realized with a pang. He shook his head and tore his gaze away from her to make his way to the counter, where he could mask his sudden discomfort with the busyness of pouring a cup for himself. He left his coffee black, too, but only because he didn't want to go searching for cream and sugar. Leon propped his crutches against the counter, where he leaned as well before he took a tentative taste from his mug. Strong, and more bitter than he was used to, but it'd given him enough time to gather himself again.

"How does all this work, anyway?" he asked, "Even if they only keep me for a while, I'm probably not gonna have a job or an apartment when I get out of here." He took another sip and winced at the heat. "Is there a way for me to get my stuff before my landlord throws it all on the curb?"

 

[Meraki]

"It's not much," she shrugged, "but it's home for me most days."

His next works sent a pang of guilt through her heart. She wasn't exactly sure, but she had read through the order they gave to detain him and it didn't seem all too great. There was nothing about him being kept forever, but there was also nothing about him leaving anytime soon, either. The last thing she wanted to do was break his spirit more. She took a deep inhalation and settled into her spot. He was across the way, settled against the wall with his own coffee in hand. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted, "but you've got me, so I'm sure I can manage to get a couple people out to get your things and take care of your apartment. I know that's really invasive, but at least we can get it and bring it here – maybe get rid of your metal bed and table for something that feels a bit more like home."

"My guess would be when they can figure out how to get this research off the ground and you can control your change, they'll be more inclined to strike a deal. If I know this agency like I think I do, at least. In a best case scenario, they would offer you a job working here, and just use the microchip to monitor. If, of course, their research pans out the way they're hoping."

"I don't really know the particulars yet, but I have to be briefed in most everything, so once I know something I'll let you know. It doesn't seem like you're the only one they've detained though, one or two others are being old on other blocks. Dr. Jenny just seems pretty confident that you're going to be the most help. Not sure if it's your winning personality or the particulars of your transformation, but she's convinced."

Rita took another sip of her coffee and relaxed her shoulders. A small smile found her lips, hoping to be a bit comforting. It was hard because there was nothing she could do yet, not until the situation started to unravel and she could get specifics from those involved. As of right now, who was involved with the research was held on the down low, but she would find out. She always did. After all, it was hard to work human and supernatural relations without knowing the specifics of possibly groundbreaking research.

"I'm sorry I can't do more," she apologized, the sound soft and genuine, "Not yet, at least."

 

[Acorn]

His look of dismay grew as he processed what she said. It took everything in him to remain where he was, holding his coffee mug and leaning against the counter, rather than tearing at his hair and cursing. He probably would've if it hadn't been for Rita sitting across the way.

So he could have his things, but it would require people rifling through his apartment just as he'd left it. With as busy as he stayed — had stayed, there had never been much time to clean, and he hadn't been the most organized to begin with. He cringed to think about someone picking through garbage to find his most cherished belongings. But it wasn't like he'd have to ever see whatever Enforcers went to clear out his place, and even if he had to, he didn't have much as far as dignity went anymore, so what harm was there for others to know he'd been a slob? They knew everything else about him already, maybe it wouldn't be a shock.

To hear there were other werewolves being held like him, and that Jenny thought he would be more helpful than they were was a surprise. She hadn't said anything like that when they spoke, just that the research was to help them control themselves and that he should help. Of course, like with Jackson and all the others, it wasn't actually a request. He'd participate in the research program whether he liked it or not. Asking just let them all pretend he was a willing party to whatever the hell they had going on.

Had all this happened because they'd observed something during his transformation that made him ideal for their research? He'd thought he was to blame for everything, but could it be that they would've detained him even if he hadn't fucked up and arrived late? And what, if he got a hold on when he turned into a monster, he could help keep all the other monsters in check?

He blew air from his pursed lips.

This whole thing was fucked, but there were things they could do right now to gain some control of the situation.

"Don't worry about the big furniture. It's all shit from Ikea," he said. "If they leave me in that cell to change, I'd destroy it. There aren't many things I want to keep, anyway. Pictures, my mom's rosary, some books." He put his coffee down on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "The other werewolves, do you think I could talk to them?"

 

[Meraki]

He wasn't happy, but she couldn't expect him to be.

She listened carefully, taking mental notes of what he wanted from his apartment. If she could make it happen, she would go herself, but she wanted to make sure that anything he needed, he had. It was strange to her how quickly he sifted through his belongings in his mind and picked out a select few that he needed. Her mind drifted back to their…her apartment and all the boxes she had still sitting around. She had packed one or two, but most of it was her mother's doing when she came up for the funeral. Each box filled with just things, but each one held such a weight and Rita was afraid that if she disturbed one thing in the apartment, she wouldn't be able to feel him anymore.

She wished for conviction like Leon's, for that kind of strength, but she was just frightened. Frightened of losing what little she had left and clung to like a lifeline.

She had to blink to bring herself back to the conversation as she caught the last of his request. Talk to the other werewolves? There had to be a hundred different protocol that shattered, but until Rita could give him real answers, she understood why it might give him comfort. Rita sipped her coffee again, not minding the slight burn as it went down. "Do I think you could talk to them? Or do I think I can manage around the system to make that happen?" she asked, but shook her dark locks shortly after, "Yeah, I should be able to get you in there, but not for very long."

She'd have to face repercussions, of course, but those were to be expected. It just didn't seem fair to Rita that they were unable to leave and unable to spend time with one another. Situations just always felt better with people who understood and while Rita wished she could, she knew that what she felt and what Leon felt were two entirely different beasts.

"When we head back down, I'll see if I can get you into their containment units," she offered, "if I don't have clearance, I can always swipe it off Jenny tomorrow. I think she's home for the afternoon, most of the Enforcers are. It's pretty taboo to work the day after a full moon."

 

[Acorn]

"No, that's okay," he said. At this point, there probably wasn't much more the other werewolves knew than him, but it wouldn't hurt to reach out to them eventually. Given how tight-lipped everyone but Rita was, being able to compare their stories would help them ferret out truths that weren't obvious at first glance. "Maybe once they've started the research I'll check in on them."

He uncrossed his arms and grabbed his crutches. It wasn't far from the counter to the couch, but he didn't want to fall on his face on his way to Rita. He sat at the point farthest away from her, leaning his second pair of legs against the arm of the couch, and took a breath to speak, but reconsidered and let it out in a huff. What he wanted to ask required a defter hand than he had, and he didn't want to come off the bumbling fool he usually did when he needed to talk to Rita about anything that might end with rejection.

"I appreciate everything you've done and everything you're talking about doing for me," he said, starting out slowly but gaining confidence and speed as he continued and didn't trip over his words, "and I don't want to come off wrong, but why are you helping me?"

 

[Meraki]

His question took her a bit off guard but it didn't show in her face. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee and held it in her hands, letting it warm her palms and lap. Rita should have been expecting the questions, but she didn't know what to tell him. For the most part, she didn't really know why she was helping him, except for the fact it was just the way she was. Rita wanted to be hateful and angry – she was angry, but not at Leon. He didn't take anything from him and while she wished she could throw all of her issues on him, she wouldn't. He really did not deserve it.

"Because it's the right thing to do," Rita said simply, "and because you don't deserve this for something you can't really control. No one really deserves this, being locked up in a cell, but definitely not you. I pride myself on being a pretty decent judge of character and you're a good guy, Leon. A good man first, a werewolf second."

"And I haven't always thought that about every werewolf," she mentioned, her words a bit softer as they touched a part of her memory that she didn't want to re-experience, "I know what it's like to find yourself alone all of a sudden, to feel like you have no control. You don't deserve it."

Rita cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably, moving far away from the genuine honesty in her voice. She finished her cup of coffee and slipped from the couch, slipping back on her heels and clicking over towards the coffee maker. It took her a minute to situate her emotions, to keep her expression neutral, but she knew her eyes gave her away. They always did, so she tried to avert his eyes for a moment. She poured herself another mug and sipped it. With a gentle exhale, Rita turned back and leaned against the counter.

"Or maybe it's because I shot you," she teased, though it was clear that wasn't the reason, "Or almost shot you. I'd like to remind you once again that your leg was Alice's fault. But anyway, just let me know if I'm overstepping any boundaries or anything. If you get sick of me, just let me know."

 

[Acorn]

Leon awaited her answer quietly, gaze shifting from her hands as she brought the coffee to her lips to her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to the question before she answered it. He couldn't determine anything useful from her expression and had to wait until she actually responded before he felt like he could relax. He breathed a sigh of relief when she called him a good guy and said that she considered him a man first and foremost — not a werewolf. That, more than anything, made him smile.

Every full moon at the base had been filled with encounters that left a sour taste in his mouth, but he'd always bounced back from them by reasoning that if their positions had been switched, he might've behaved the same way. It wasn't that he was always treated poorly, it was that as soon as he entered the base, they scanned the microchip in his shoulder and when a number showed up, they referred to him as that number, they filed everything away in a folder labeled with his number. Within that folder was a name, a face, and a history, but as soon as they closed it, he was a number again.

1830.

Not Leon, or Alvarez, or Mr. Alvarez. 1830 has checked in. 1830 has been secured in container F. 1830 has been released from container F. Escorting 1830 to front of building.

It made him feel a little less human each time, but he'd always imagined it had the same effect on the Enforcers. They didn't see him as quite human, and so they could deal with him accordingly if they needed. She didn't, though. She didn't even think of him that way.

His smile faded when he caught a hint of… was that pain? in her voice and eyes, and spoke of knowing something of how he felt. He wasn't able to get a pulse on what it meant before she pulled the same trick he had earlier, moving away and hiding her face until she could regain control. When she flipped to teasing him, he recognized that it would be unwise to press matters, and joined in.

"So that's it, you feel bad for the werewolf. I get it, I get it," he said. "I don't see that happening soon, though. It's more likely you'll get sick of my bad jokes and find out from Johanna how to curse at me in German." He made a face. "That or she's professing her undying love for me. I'm not sure."

 

[Meraki]

"I'm sure that's it," Rita laughed brightly, "Come on lover boy. As much I'd like to sit here and watch you make puppy eyes at the thought of Johanna approving of you, we should probably head out. I hate to cut it short, but I've got a meeting at three."

The rest of the day fell into the same routine as their entire week. She returned him to his cell and went about her day as an Enforcer, they would grab dinner or lunch (whatever meal was available, really), and she would run home for a few hours of restless sleep before heading right back. She'd gone to Jenny about his belongings and she gave Rita the okay to fetch them herself if she felt it was something she had to do. The more Rita thought about it, the less she wanted to let strangers go through Leon's belongings, and while she was hardly anything but a recent friend, she figured she was more qualified than anyone else at the facility to go find the items he had requested. Alice offered to go with her, but she figured it was the least she could do alone. After all, Rita couldn't even clear her own house of Chase's ghost, so she owed it her herself to at least give Leon some closure after everything.

She had rushed out of a meeting with a few prospective investors, clicking her heels against the pavement as she made her way down the city streets in her blouse and pencil skirt. The air was warm as she made her way across the city to where Leon's apartment was located. She had already called the landlord and posed as his sister, just coming to grab some things as they dealt with a family emergency back in Texas. It was a simple lie, but one that was familiar enough that the landlord didn't ask any questions. She scaled up the steps and slipped into his apartment anticipating the worst. Chase was notorious for clutter and wanting everything he saw flash across an infomercial, but Leon's apartment was different.

It was a bit run down, very lived in, and there was clutter strewn about everywhere. He had promised her that all she was looking for was in one spot, but it took a minute for her to be able to navigate the mess in her heels. It wasn't until she came upon a lone box did she cock her head to the side in interest. Everything he'd asked for – the pictures, the rosary, all of it was packed away into this one box. It was a bit messy and well-loved, but she could tell he went through it daily as though it was a fixture of the apartment, not just an unpacked box. She wondered for a moment how fast he'd moved to just have these belongings, but she assumed it was like he said – an immediate, unwanted change.

It made her heart ache.

Hoisting it up into her arms, Rita slipped back out of his apartment and started down the street with his belongings in hand. "Whatcha got there, Mason?" Jackson asked as she made her way into the facility, his eyes immediately tracing her trail to watch her go.

"Just a box, Jackson," she hummed, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

She made her way down to the containment units and her steps echoed as she walked. When she finally came upon Leon's cell, she shifted to key in and entered without much of a warning. "I come bearing gifts," she said with a smile, "Everything you asked for."

She set the box down on the table and turned to brush off her skirt. "So," she glanced up with a smile, "How was testing today?"

 

[Acorn]

When he heard the lock release, he looked up from his cross-legged position on the bed, a notepad open in his lap and a pen in one hand. He'd given up on the idea of journaling after his first attempt and had instead taken up drawing again. When he'd been younger, he'd spent hours sketching and doodling, and his notebooks then were usually filled with things he spied on his walks to and from school — lots of sagebrush, birds, and lizards. He still had an eye for drawing what he saw, and he'd been putting the finishing touches on a circle with geometric patterns within when Rita entered the room.

"I like gifts," he said, smiling and putting aside his artwork. He stood and smoothed the front of his white cotton t-shirt and walked over to the table, barefoot like he usually was, blue lounge pants dragging at the hems. It was his uniform, with only the addition of some comfortable but hideous brown house slippers when he had to leave the cell.

He had the box open and was rummaging through it before he answered her question. "It was uh… Weird," he said. He pulled out several hardcover books and placed them next to the box on the table, then sank his hands in again and came out with a thick stack of pictures that he added to the pile. His mouth was drawn and his eyebrows low when he returned to his search until his fingers encountered cool metal and smooth beads.

"Ah, there you are," he said, pulling free a string of stained oak beads held together with a natural colored piece of cord, a brass crucifix on the end. In a practiced motion, he shifted his hand and the rosary, putting his thumb on the crucifix and his forefinger behind, and heaved a sigh.

"Thank you," he said, his expression earnest. "Means more than you can know."

 

[Meraki]

"Weird? How so?" Rita cocked her head to the side as she watched him thumb through his belongings, but the question fell from her mind. She was just enthralled with watching him carefully pick through his things – the photos, the books, until his fingers met a rosary that seemed to spark a memory in him. His sigh pulled her form her thoughts and her green eyes flickered up to meet his. She couldn't help but smile gently at the comment, but she shook her head anyway. "No need to thank me, you shouldn't be here in the first place. The least I could do was get this for you."

"I haven't seen a rosary like that in a long time, though," she commented, eyeing the stained oak with a bit of wonder, "My grandmother used to have jewelry boxes full of them. All types of wood, some beaded, but she was always the best practicing Catholic out of the lot of us. You said it was your mother's? Was she the same way?"

Rita hadn't thought of religion in a long time. Chase was a self-proclaimed agnostic, far more interested in everything about religion than one particular God. He had little trinkets all over the house from trips he and his parents took all over the world throughout his life. His family had always been pretty eccentric with that stuff, but her parents were devastated when their baby girl came home and said that they weren't getting married in a church. No, that didn't sit well at all, but they were all supportive. They always were, even when she pushed them away.

They always called. They always prayed for her over their dinner table back in North Carolina.

"I haven't even held a rosary since my first communion," she admitted, "What about these pictures – is this your grandmother?"

 

[Acorn]

Leon himself had been in various states of closeness with God. Through obligation, at first, because his grandmother would drag him to every Sunday Mass, and eventually through choice when everything went topsy-turvy and it was the only thing familiar left to him. Saying the rosary went from something he dreaded to a cherished moment in his day when he didn't have to think about anything but the feel of beads and string and prayers. He dipped his head to look at the rosary in his hands when she spoke of her grandmother's collection and smiled when she confirmed her own Catholic background. Even if she wasn't active in the church, she hadn't spoken poorly of her experience like some did, so maybe she'd be understanding of the pull he felt to religion.

He piled the beads atop the crucifix and slid his hand into his pants pocket. Part of him had wanted to let Rita hold it, but he'd been too long without the comfort of his mother's rosary and couldn't part with it again so soon. When she drew his attention to the pictures, he shifted to lean over and plucked the one she'd mentioned from atop the pile. It was a woman with black hair piled atop her head, only a few streaks of gray at her temples. She had a red apron tied around her waist, covering jeans and a white blouse. Her hands were deep in a sink and she smiled over her shoulder at the camera holder. The nearby counters were covered in Mason jars filled with tomatoes.

"Yeah, that's her. Way she talked about it, she didn't have that many tomatoes to can, but I was there all day. Think we did something like thirty quarts before she got tired of me whining and let me go."

He put the picture aside and lifted the next one. There was a girl wearing a frilly dress that could've passed for wedding attire if it hadn't been bright pink. Her dark hair was elaborately curled and pinned back beneath a sparkling tiara. She was beautiful except for her scowling expression.

"My mom," he said, and chuckled. "She was always pissed to hear Grandma tell it. This was her quinceañera. It's kind of like a sweet sixteen, but at fifteen instead. Some families go bankrupt putting these things together. It's a big deal." He glanced at Rita. "I'm also pretty sure this is when she got pregnant with me, because I was born just before she turned sixteen. She bailed a little after. Can't say I blame her. A kid shouldn't have to raise a kid." He returned the picture gently.

"I don't think she used her rosary all that much, to be honest," he said laughingly, "but it's all I have from her besides that picture."

 

[Meraki]

"She's beautiful," Rita remarked as he described his grandmother. She just seemed so full of joy, so bright and exuberant. Rita's own grandmother had passed while she was in college and had certainly been more of a matriarch than a warm, maternal figure, but the picture reminded Rita of her mom. Angela Mason was a southern belle of a woman, a force to be reckoned with, and one hell of a cook. It seemed every image of her that Rita could recall involved a bright, wide smile followed by the memory of warm apple pies or biscuits in the morning. She was easily where Rita got her compassion from and looks from, but Angela Mason was a former pageant queen and legend at town bake sales.

"My mom loves canning, they'd get along well," Rita laughed as she slipped her fingers over the frame and let it settle on the table next to the box. The next frame was an old one, a young girl about fifteen in a poofy, bright pink dress. His mother. When she looked at the photograph, she immediately could see the resemblance between the two, especially the dark hair, but she had never seen Leon scowl like that. He seemed far more inclined to purse his lips, like he didn't want to show his frustrations or pain. When she glanced back to him, she caught his gaze unexpectedly. Their eyes locked for a moment before she spoke, "It's nice that you can still find some comfort in her things. It's never easy to deal with something like that."

"But you had your grandmother, and she looks like she loves you very much," Rita smiled as she glanced back down to the picture of his grandmother. Her heart ached at the thought that he could not call her on his own phone, but she was happy to lend him hers. He was going to be able to see her again, Rita would make sure of it. No one deserved to lose family and have no answers – that much she knew from experience. That kind of pain was something that never quite healed.

"I don't know if I could take you seriously if you scowled like that, though," Rita laughed, moving back to the picture of his mom, "You just don't have a scowling face."