Ineffable - S.REID

18

・゜゜・．THREE MONTHS LATER .・゜゜・

Time passed slowly in the beige, paintingless house that she had been taken to. It was insanely hard for her to not let the loneliness creep in. The lack of communication with all the people she held closest to her was by far the most difficult part of it all. Out of the three people that were aware of her location, she liked two. When the two weeks that the other had come around, it was harder to not slip into a stare where her mind worked overdrive and noticed all the sounds outside the house that were always nothing but seemed like death to her. He didn't talk to her, not a singular word, unless it was an emergency - which they had not had yet. She strongly disliked him and thought he was definitely in the wrong profession, the inability to bring comfort to someone scared for their life was not ideal in these situations.

She sat on the sofa, staring at a blank screen as she had watched all the DVD's provided about ten times each. All her favourite movies didn't strike the same joy within her anymore, she needed a long break from all of them to actually see the enjoyment within them anymore. But with three months behind her and no improvements, that didn't really seem like it would happen anytime soon. She didn't even have the energy to read one of the many books that Garcia had backed for her at the very beginning - along with her toothbrush, mothers blanket and sketchpad. There was a limbo of about an hour (depending on who the person was) where she would be left alone due to shift changes. Sam always made the effort to arrive early to avoid this and that was one of the many reasons as to why he was her favourite. Sam quickly became the best friend she wasn't aware she had ever needed, it just sucked that such an awful thing had brought them together.

She flinched as he knocked on the door, using the secret knock, then unlocked it and entered. Beeping filled her head as the burglar alarm triggered. Sam was quick to enter the code and shut the blinds at the door, entering the safe house with his usual duffel bag. "How's it been?" he asked, with a certain brightness to his voice, as he entered the living room/kitchen and set his bag on the floor by the couch.

"I'm driving myself insane here," she sighed deeply, turning towards him as he sat down on the comfy chair next to the couch she was sitting on. "Spoons doesn't talk."

His brow raised quickly, hints of laughter pinching at the smile lines etched into his skin, "Spoons?"

"He brings twenty spoons with him for two weeks, who needs that many spoons?"

His brow then furrowed, confusion adding great curiosity to his eyes, "Plastic or metal?"

"Metal," she paused as Sam sat back in his chair, bewilderment matching her own. "Does he not understand that they can be washed?'

"Bet you're glad to see me then huh," he chuckled, jokingly raising his eyebrows.

"I'll always be glad to see you Sam, you bring me Maltesers," she responded with a smile that felt rather foreign on her lips.

He sighed in feigned annoyance as he reached into his bag, pulling out a large red bag of Maltesers meant for sharing (but she never did apart from the odd one or two.) "Maltesers and that movie you banged on about for days on end," he replied as he gently threw both things at her. She caught the chocolates with one hand but didn't manage to catch the DVD as it landed on the couch before she could even reach for it.

"I actually love you," she grinned, the smallest joy meaning the absolute most in her cut off world.

"I'll make sure Marla knows," he chuckled as she ripped open the bag, relishing in the smallest amount of chocolate after living off of plain beige food for so long.

"I would love to meet her if I get out of here," Clara responded enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than to meet his wife and thank her for being so understanding during the entire process. It couldn't be easy to not see her husband for weeks on end and know that he's with another woman, not that Clara would ever do anything to overstep that boundary. She and Sam were like best friends, both cut from the same tree.

His brow furrowed as he echoed, "If?"

"Might go insane if i'm alone for much longer," she replied softly, fighting the urge to change the subject from the serious one to something completely unrelated. "Too long with my thoughts and no distraction does not end well."

"I'll get Spoons taken out of rotation if you want."

Despite how much the idea appealed to her, she frowned and asked, "Wouldn't that mean more hours for you?"

He shrugged and took a sip from whatever smoothie Marla had made him that morning before he left for work, "I'd split it with C- wait do you have a nickname for him?"

"Toblerone," she responded quickly and without thought.

"Right... I'd split it with Toblerone, three weeks with me sound too awful to handle?"

"What would Marla say?" she laughed but he could easily see that there was genuine concern behind her eyes.

"She'd understand, it is your sanity after all."

She laughed half heartedly and the room fell into silence but the tap in the kitchen that always dripped decided it was its turn to scream and ruin any aspect of peace. Those pipes and that tap woke her up so often that she had attempted to go at them with a spanner but she had only made it worse and Sams help had only increased the damage - they ended up playing a song with the rusted pipes which was hilarious while it occurred but not so funny now. "Did you hear anything from them?" she asked softly, already knowing what the answer would be.

Sam sighed softly and tried his best to hide the sadness for her in his voice, "I'm not allowed to contact them Clara, you know that."

"Yeah no, sorry for asking," she responded and cleared her mind of tears, reaching into the bag of Maltesers to distract herself again.

Sam took her silent munching as the perfect opportunity to access the situation. Part of his job was to make sure that she was remaining somewhat sane, not just as an act of protection if it was needed. He noticed the empty boxes on the counters, how the whiteboard which she had used for a counter of how many days had passed randomly stopped six days ago and how she just seemed completely out of it. All of which were not good signs whatsoever. "You've given up on the counter whiteboard," he observed as nonchalantly as possible, desperate to hide the real concern.

"Pen ran out," she quickly dismissed and he frowned deeply. He knew for a fact that there was a near full box of pens in the supply cupboard in the spare bedroom, a supply cupboard which she knew all about.

"Clara..."

"I'm fine Sam, reacting perfectly normally given the circumstances," she sighed softly. Seconds later, as if on cue, a car backfired within the neighbourhood. Despite knowing the difference between that and a gunshot, Clara's grip on the bag of chocolates tightened and her attention flicked towards the nearest window.

"Want me to put on the movie?" Sam offered, hopeful that finally watching a movie she had wanted to see for so long would bring her a small aspect of joy even if it was on the oldest tv possible with the volume unspeakably low to avoid detection.

She sighed and tucked her feet up underneath her, getting comfortable once again, "Haven't got anything better to do."