a purposeful past | s.s

Chapter Seventeen

Lane was more at peace than she'd been in a long time.

She was away from Frisks, thankfully. She was back and happy with Finch, thankfully. She had a good job, thankfully. Things seemed to be making less and less sense with her father and The Unknowns... not-so thankfully.

It was this thought that caused her to sag down in her chair, chin in hand. She couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to the question of how her father was involved with The Unknowns. If he even was at all.

Or had been, rather.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as a stack of papers suddenly dropped down in front of her. She looked up to see Roosevelt with a hand on the pile. "Could you sort these? By year would be ideal."

"Sure," she mumbled.

Roosevelt sighed and went back to his desk. "I can tell you're not suited for this kind of life."

"No, no, it's..." she yawned, rubbing her eyes. "It's great. Everythin' a goil could want."

He gave her a gentle look. "Lane, I don't want to put you somewhere you're not meant to be. I want you to come into yourself."

She suddenly became nervous. "Yer firin' me?"

"No, of course not." He laughed. "I just feel like you're not quite doing your father justice."

"He jus wanted me ta make it in tha woild," Lane said slowly. "Ise workin' fa tha Governor. I think he's satisfied."

"Maybe you didn't know him as well as you think you did," Roosevelt said quietly.

Lane fixed cold eyes on him. "What's dat s'posed ta mean?"

"I didn't mean to pry," he quickly said. "I simply meant that it seems like we remember two very different people."

"I'd think his daught-ah would know him bett-ah den some guy," Lane spat before she could help herself.

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," he tried again. "I was only thinking the same thing. You do seem to know him much better than I. It seems no one else knew him quite as well."

Lane averted her gaze. The truth was, she didn't know her father. So how could she stand there and say that she did?

The truth was she couldn't.

"I want you to be up in the world with me," Roosevelt said to her, softer. "It was what your father wanted, practically his dying wish. How could I refuse him that?"

"So yer gonna let some goil become in charge 'a everythin', jus 'cause her dad said so?" Lane muttered, rolling her eyes. She somehow had a hard time believing that.

"Right," Roosevelt said, much to her disbelief. "Miss Delancey, let's face it. You aren't meant for the world of politics. It would be cruel to confine you to that life. So I'll do my best to find another way for you to make a real change in the world."

Which was what she'd always wanted, wasn't it? And here it was, being practically handed to her. She'd be stupid to leave it all now. To disappoint her father.

"Sorry," she said. "Yer right. Pretend I said nothin'. I'll be whatev-ah ya want me ta be."

"Excellent," Roosevelt said brightly. "You can trust me, Lane. I know things are very confusing for you right now, but I'll always be truthful with you. You're safe with me."

Despite everything telling her not to be, a small part of her felt reassured.

"C'mon, Trek." Lane rapped on his door once more. "It's freezin' out he-ah."