mancy's fics [CES related]

[m a n c y]

[/font][/size]
Inferiority[/ul][/ul]

Sometimes Julia would go on business trips.

Lex never really thought much of it; it didn't concern her, hell, they came and went so fast that sometimes she didn't even know that they'd happened. Every so often they tended to compromise a night out, a spur-of-the-moment event that was not meant to be -- but when such a calamity arose, Julia would simply apologize the next time they met.

No harm done.

At one point, Lex had grown curious and asked what, exactly, she was doing on these trips, and who she went with, and what they could possibly concern. Julia had simply given a sort of shrug, and politely pointed out that it wasn't really much of anything, and wouldn't she like to talk about something else? Stuffy old men in rooms, smoking pipes and discussing money -- wasn't it so droll? Nothing like what they liked to talk about on a night out, now was it?
After that conversation, she had refused to ever speak of the subject again.

Until, well. Now.
But even now they weren't really talking about it.

She'd invited her. Apparently her brother (Evan -- the older one with the real "head for business -- he's going to be just like my father one day!") had caught some kind of disease and couldn't chaperon her. His ticket had already been bought, and the hotel room was suited for two, and Julia just despised wasting money -- so would you like to come, Lex? They didn't just hand out refunds, after all, and she'd just hate to sit next to an empty seat on the plane, anyway.
Lex had about a million better things she could have been doing. She had twice as many excuses she could have pulled. No one could have blamed her -- Julia was a big girl, a grown woman -- she could go on her own fucking business trips alone, couldn't she?

But instead, she had agreed. She always had wanted to see Texas, anyway.
It was probably one of her dumber mistakes, she'd admit.

The first thing that she had noticed was that Julia could not stay sober on a plane. Granted, Julia didn't really stay sober for a lot of occasions -- but this was just extraordinarily bad. As soon as they'd sat down (after the attendant offered to take both of their coats and helped them get ridiculously comfortable, of course), Julia had beckoned the attendant to her side, and asked for a glass of wine ("And just keep them coming, would you? Thanks!").
The plane wasn't scheduled to take off for another forty minutes. Lex had tried to ignore this and figure out what exactly her chair did and why it reclined into a bed (with linens), when the attendant came back with a glass for Julia in one hand, and a tray with water, orange juice, and some kind of wine in the other.
Lex had reached for the water, when Julia had interjected, "Lex! What's the point in flying first class if you don't take advantage of the best part!"

Her cheeks had been flushed already. Obviously, she'd already been drinking prior to this (which made sense, upon reflection -- she'd insisted on having her chauffeur walk them into the airport and check over their tickets. Had probably been too out of it to even make sure they even went to the right check-in window). Which only made all of this worse.
Her drunk ass would make one hell of a scene if Lex tried to resist.
Some of the men in the other seats were already starting to give them funny looks.

She had taken the glass of wine reluctantly -- politely -- and had taken a hesitant sip.
Julia looked intensely satisfied.
Lex merely turned to the dinner menu with a scowl.

--

When they had landed (after two full, lavish meals, constant service, hot towels, and more full bottles of wine than Lex could even count), she'd realized one thing:
Texas was hot.
And dusty.
And intolerable, really.

Story of her life.

Julia had pulled her into her arranged transportation (a limo, with a completely stocked bar and an attendant to make drinks -- of course) and got to drinking again immediately.
She hadn't been much for conversation so far, but Lex hadn't thought it was worth complaining about. Didn't she appreciate the peace and quiet?

Even if it all was rather tense.

When they'd arrived at the hotel (some ridiculous place with indoor fountains and some every other kind of gaudy touch Lex could have imagined), Julia had gotten her driver to check in for them, and soon they were shooting up -- up -- a glass elevator to their top-floor suite.

It was probably as big as Lex's own apartment, if not bigger.
And all the furniture was infinitely superior.

Julia had thrown everything on the floor -- didn't even bother to put anything away, and had taken her hand as she made her way over to the bed.
There was something strange about her smile; the flush on her cheeks; the look in her eyes -- as she put one foot on top of the bed, pulled herself up, and started jumping.
Lex had refused to take part in this, had snatched her hand away and scowled.
Julia just deteriorated into a fit of laughter, hopping back and forth before landing -- hard -- on her back with this ridiculous smile on her face.
Their eyes had met.
And then Lex turned away to unpack her things.

That had been the last time on that trip that she'd seen Julia smile.

--

The next morning had come clear and strong, and Julia had sobered herself up completely (somehow, she wasn't quite sure how she'd done it). She then started to get ready for the day's work ahead of her.
Lex had rolled over to see what the commotion was about, and had seen a woman -- no, a lady -- standing in the room with her, calmly fixing a chain around her neck with a sort of sighing quality.

Julia hadn't waited for her to wake up -- she'd just left. Lex hadn't been given anything to do, so she'd just wandered around the hotel, assisted where she could (what were vacations, anyway?), and tried to make the best use of her time.
When Julia had returned, it was nine at night.
She had looked older than Lex had ever remembered seeing her. When she'd asked what had happened during the meeting, Julia had simply shrugged and led her downstairs to dinner.

She had refused to touch any of the drinks offered to her, and had kept shooting looks over to one of the other tables. One completely made up of young men, chatting and laughing and drinking and bragging and whatever else.
Lex had noticed, and tried to talk to her over it. She didn't really care -- not really -- but there was just something about all this. Something that didn't seem right.

Julia had remained quiet. Reserved, almost.
And when the next morning rolled around, the cycle repeated itself.

Lex found herself ignored, and Julia distant, detached.
She didn't quite recall even seeing the other woman going to sleep, or waking up for that matter. And the other side of the bed was always untouched.

It was a common theme though, wasn't it -- Lex thought as she laid down on the last night. One more night, and then the plane back in the morning. Back home none the wiser, and in fact maybe even a little more bemused.
Julia changed into her nightgown, and laid down next to her. There seemed to be an air of effort, and Lex noticed that there was a good five inches between them.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Lex?" Julia asked suddenly, her eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Enjoy myself?"

"Mhm,"

"Uh. How the fuck was I supposed to enjoy myself?"

"The room, the ride over, the service -- lots of people like it. Didn't you?"

"That doesn't mean shit, Julia, and you know it. It was just boring."
She hadn't meant to sound ungrateful, and had only caught it after she'd said it.
Julia didn't catch it, though.

"Yeah, I guess."

There was a pause.
Lex rolled on her side to look at the other girl, whose eyes had not left the air vent on the ceiling.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, uh, well that's not exactly what these trips are for, Lex."

"But you're kind of weird with that fucking business stuff. Come on. You're telling me that you didn't love dealing with all those people to make money or write incomprehensible spread-sheets or whatever the fuck it is that you do? You're so full of it."

Julia remained quiet.

"What, are they just boring or something? Jesus. This is the kind of shit that's right up your alley -- and don't tell me it's not."

The other girl turned to look her full on the face.
"They just... don't treat me like the others there, you know?"

"No, I don't know -- probably because you're just making that up. Of course they treat you the same. You're just doing fucking business."

"No, no... I mean... I don't know. They just treat me different."

"Like how."

"In little ways, I guess. Don't talk to me as much. When Evan's here, they just talk to him, even though I'm the one who does all the work. I think they think it's weird."

"What's weird."

Julia gave a little shrug.
"It's just kind of a man's world, I think, Lex."

Lex rolled her eyes.
"You're so full of it, Julia. Stop seeing shit where it doesn't exist. They treat you all the same. Honestly."

Julia had looked away for a second, and then turned back to her ceiling.

"I'm not so sure sometimes, Lex. But I like to think that, too."

She looked back at her, caught her eyes.
"You... you think of me the same, right?"

Lex rolled her eyes,
"Julia, if anything, I think a boy version of you would be more ridiculous. Yes. Your gender means nothing to me, Julia."

There was a slight hesitation.
"In... every way?"

The unspoken hung over Lex's head cloyingly. She looked at the other girl for a while, before she replied (maybe a touch too gently),

"Yeah. In every way."

--

When she'd returned home, Julia hadn't talked about the trip.
Almost as if it had never happened.

Lex supposed that she preferred it that way -- after all, she went on these all the time. What could have possibly made any one of those any more "meaningful" than the other? If they were all the same, then they were all stressful, ridiculous wastes of time.
Upon reflection, she couldn't even remember why she had agreed to go the first time.

It wasn't until later that she'd learned that Evan hadn't actually been sick, and in fact hadn't been invited to the trip at all.
And what was even odder that, in the coming months, Julia had had a number of other business trips; some where she was gone for a week at a time.

But Lex never found herself invited.

[m a n c y]

[/font][/size]
Consorts[/ul][/ul]

Sometimes, Lex would forget that Julia had other women.
But never for long.

She had no right to complain, now that she thought of it. Despite Julia's confessed "love" for her, despite the keys to her house, despite the countless nights spent together in their secret cafe -- despite anything that had ever happened between them, she was still Julia.
She honestly could not have expected anything else. It wasn't fair for her too.
They weren't even together. Really.

So she had nothing to say to Julia when she left suddenly during their talks, out to party and club and whatever else.
So she had nothing to do but wait on the other end of the line, knowing that Julia was out flirting with someone else -- some other woman -- who wanted nothing more than to forget about her when she woke up the next morning.
So she had nothing to think but about the next day, when Julia would be sober and waiting for an opportunity to talk about something that was obviously troubling her, but Lex knew that she'd never give her the chance to say.

And then they would sit -- like they always did -- in that little cafe all their own, talking about subjects that got harder to discuss with each passing day. Avoiding the things that really mattered between the two of them.
Avoiding the smell of sex that never seemed to wash off completely, that tired look in her eyes whenever she talked about the night before, the evasive glances -- anything to not be talking about this, not now and not with her.

They'd sometimes breach the subject.
But never for long.

It might happen like this:

They were sitting in their cafe, right across from each other -- like they always do.
Julia was playing with the rim of her cup, her finger going round and round as she searched for something to say. Lex was watching her from the corner of her eye -- the way she always watched, naturally -- and she puts her cup down a little suddenly, a little forcefully.
"What's it like, Julia?" She asks, a little suddenly.
A little forcefully.

"What's what like, Lex?" She replies, with a touch of gentleness. A touch of compassion and longing for an understanding.

A longing that goes unanswered.

"What's it like to have so many different people -- every fucking day and every fucking night. What's it like to never get to know the people you're fucking and who you're with and to never mean anything to anyone you're fucking intimate with."

She doesn't mean to lash out. She honestly doesn't but it just happens and she can't explain why or why this frustrates her so much.
But it does and her voice is hard and Julia looks away for a split second.

"Oh, uh, I don't really think about it like that." She says quietly.

"Oh? So what the fuck is it to you?"

Julia is pensive for a moment. She puts her hand back on the table and looks Lex in the eye.
"I guess I just don't -- you know, think about it. What's wrong about that? I'm taking what I want. It's my choice, Lex -- it's something I enjoy. Is it such a fucking crime to enjoy something that you don't?"

"No," Lex asserts, a little defensively, "It's just we both know that that's a crock of shit."

"Oh, so suddenly I'm wrong about my own feelings. Oh, Lex! Tell me! Tell me how I feel because obviously I'm just this stupid, weak person who doesn't even know about how I feel on something I do all the time! Please, Lex. Educate me!"

"I never said that. And you're not wrong about your feelings -- you just fucking lie about them."

"Oh, so now I'm a fucking liar!"

"Yeah, you are. To yourself. Which is probably one of the saddest fucking things I've heard in a while. It's just ingrained in you, I guess. I mean, you can't even be honest with yourself."

"Let me get this straight. I tell you how I feel about something I do all the time and choose to do, and you don't believe it. Instead of coming to the rational conclusion that you're wrong, you instead accuse me of lying, only you have to justify me being so convinced so you say that I'm lying to myself for no discernible reason."

Lex is gripping her cup and staring intently at Julia.
"Only there is a reason and you know it. You just can't come to terms with the fact that you don't really enjoy this even though you choose to do it."

"Oh, so now I'm lying to save fucking face."

"Yeah, you are."

"Okay. So, Lex, in your infinite wisdom, can you provide some solid proof behind your stupid little assertion? Do you actually have anything you're working off of besides... what. Intuition?"

It's an attack and she feels it. She wants to throw all the evidence in her face -- that wistful look she has whenever she'll recount the night before; that twitch in her eyebrows that, for a split-second, betray the tears she know's she's keeping back; her front teeth biting her bottom lip for a moment whenever they touch this subject.
She wants to just tell her that she knows and it's okay and she doesn't actually resent her for it and how she doesn't have to live like that. How there's someone who cares about her for more than the one night she has resigned herself to.
How she doesn't need to lie anymore. How much she'd like it if she didn't.

How much she wants her to forget about all of them -- just like how they forget about her -- and move on with her life. Move on with someone who cares -- someone she can't find in one of her sleazy bars.

She wants to say these things. But she's frustrated and for some reason hurt.
So all she can spit out is:
"You know what -- just forget it."

"Fine, gladly."

And Julia relaxes noticeably as Lex stares at her coffee. The tension almost disappears and soon Julia is talking about something else entirely. The fourth of July. Celebrations. Fireworks and family and bad food that you cook yourself and little dogs begging for the scraps that you tease right out of their sights before making them run for it.
Lex isn't even sure how she brought them there. But it's typical, really.

Julia always likes to talk about her favorite things when she gets upset.

--

It was three o' clock in the morning.
Their last meeting had been a good two days ago, and Lex couldn't help herself -- she was a little worried. Besides, her mother wasn't in her apartment -- she was alone, all things considered. She was a big woman. She could make her own decisions and leave her house for her friend's whenever she damn well pleased.

So she gathered her things and made her way across town to Julia's end. The contrast -- her shitty apartment, her lavish fucking mansion -- is stark.
But she doesn't allow herself to be made uneasy. This is just as much hers as it is Julia's. Well, kind of. Besides, it suits her. How could she ever be afraid of it.

Lex walked over to the door and takes out the key. She unlocked the door and walked in, without knocking.
Maybe she should have. Though, she considered some time later -- it probably wouldn't have done her much good.

There were voices. Julia, undoubtedly -- and someone else. A voice Lex had never heard before, and, in all likelihood, would never hear again.
And Julia's saying her name and Lex hasn't ever heard this one either but all she calls her is sweetie or honey or baby because she can't be assed to even remember her name for one night.

If this was some bad sitcom, Lex might have stormed into the room, told that bitch to get off of her. Might have kicked her out of the house, dusted off her hands, and stormed back upstairs. From there, she might have gotten close to Julia (after covering her with a towel or blanket, of course), held her tight, and offered to sleep over. Her feelings would come in the morning, but they would be obvious and they would be there and they would be real.

But instead, Lex just took a step back.
She left the house, closed the door quietly, and locked it right back up.
Instead of going home, she went to their cafe.
And at four, she called Julia.
And, as usual, she came quickly, flustered and smiling and like there was nothing wrong at all.
And, as usual, Lex kept what she knew to herself.

Sometimes, Lex could forget that Julia had other women.
But, considering the circumstances, those instances were few and far in-between.
And they could never last for long.

[m a n c y]

[/font][/size]
Dependence[/ul][/ul]

She was young. She was young and dirty, with a torn ear and a bad paw. She was weak, tiny, skinny -- underfed, with this tough look to her that suggested that she didn't get much in terms of protection, or even attention. There was a shake to her, not really in movement but of presence -- she couldn't hold herself straight. So frail. So weak.
And she was sitting right in front of Lex's door.

The cat looked up at her pleadingly. Her mouth opened, as if to meow, but she couldn't make the noise.

Lex had to go to the office. She had to make some calls and save some people and forget about her personal life for a while. Then she had to come home and make some more calls and wonder about a person who never exactly left her and maybe make herself something to eat and try to sleep. And then she had to wake up at some ungodly hour and find herself going to a cafe that might as well been a second home and talk and talk and revel in her new found issues that didn't exactly make sense.

Lex had a lot to do.

But sometimes you had to put your life on hold to do the right thing.

--

"Name her Dagny."

"That is the ugliest piece of shit name I've ever heard. No."

"Uh, 'scuse you, Lex! Dagny is a beautiful name for a strong, independent woman with a good head on her shoulders!"

"It's ugly as shit and from that fucking Ayn Rand book."

"Hey hey hey don't you start on Mrs. Rand!"

"And wasn't she like the center of a love rectangle or Y or some shit. And she was really fucking flippant about it and submitted to every goddamned man in that book."

"Hey! Lex! Remember what we said about Mrs. Rand's women issues!"

"That she was a self-hating idiot wh--"

"Shuuush! Leeeex!"

Julia stopped rubbing the dirt off of the kitten's paws for a moment to look over at Lex with a clearly offended face. She pushed the other woman to the side a little roughly.
And yet she smiled.
And Lex couldn't help but smile back.

"Okay, seeing as you have no taste, I guess I'll have to think of some terrible, boring names for you to actually approve."
"Sounds about right," Lex started to run the sink, trying to gently put the kitten under the water. She didn't look happy, but, then again, it wasn't like she could really resist it either.
"Hmmm, how about... Eleanor? That sounds boring and ugly enough for you."

"You're a goddamned riot, Julia. Really are."

"I try, I try! Really do!"

She is smiling and there's a little tinge to her cheeks because she is just holding back laughter and Lex knows it.
Or maybe she's wrong and it's something else. Something a little more... a little more....

"Okay, okay. What about Dominique? We could call her Dom for short!"

"Or we could just throw away all the fucking stupid options and name her something normal."

"Dom is plenty normal!"

"Uh, it's short for Dominique. Which is probably some stupid fucking play on "dominant" and therefore we can trace this back to, hmm, I don't know -- your fucking crush on Ayn Rand?"

"Ughhh! Leeex! Don't be that way! It's a great name!"

"No."

Julia started to rub the kitten down with soap thoughtfully, as if trying to decide between being frustrated or amused.
She soon flits back to 'incredibly amused' and looks back up at Lex.

"Can't pull anything past you then! Uhhh! I don't know, what are your ideas? Seeing as you seem to be so good at shooting down mine!"

"We could call the thing Fluffy for all I care. Just nothing fucking stupid."

Julia rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning off the kitten. She was thoughtful for a few moments, and then turned back to the other woman with a smile.

"How about Belle? That's pretty, right?"

"Hmm, I don't know, Julia -- is there a 'selfless, virtuous' woman in The Chronicles Of Ayn Rand named Belle?"

"Nooo! Shut up, Lex! It's just, you know, a nice name! Like, not anything you'd name your daughter or anything -- I mean it's nice but probably not the best shaper for success if you know what I mean. Like, who's going to take you seriously if your name is Belle."

"Princes from Disney movies?"

"Uhh, yeah maybe. But besides that, I mean, there's not much room for you to rise with a name like Belle. Then again, if she was my daughter, she'd know to change her name like once every twenty years until she gets famous so the point is moot!"

Lex made a small noise of exasperation, rinsing off the kitten one last time before wrapping her in a towel.

Lex didn't rely on people -- she never had, and she never would. There was no explicit reason, no deep dark secrecy about it -- just the knowledge that people -- some other people -- couldn't be relied on. Knowing that there was no one but her who had her best interest in mind.
That the generosity she bestowed on others was never reciprocated. That it probably just couldn't be -- it was up to the few to redeem -- to save -- the many.
That there were few people -- no people -- she could ask to lend a hand.

Except one.

"Yeah, okay. We'll name her Belle."