Rediscovered Love

Chapter 12

* (To be blunt) the music is piano so if you don't like that stuff, then I suggest you don't waste your time even though this is a really nice song and it captures this scene quite well, or at least parts of it :)

Jeanine's POV

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! "Alarm off." I roll to my other side within my warm, thick blanket. When I open my eyes, I see my glowing curtains which stretch from the ceiling to the floor in an effort to privatize my bedroom from the city skyline outside. Karen. Today she will come home. Squeezing my eyes shut, I see her in front of me. Her darker hair is highlighted by the luminescence filtering into the room and onto us. I open my eyes and shift out of the navy blue sheets piled on me.

I choose a light blue dress from my closet. Karen's clothes are still where they have always been; neatly folded and untouched. Where have the past five years gone? I can't cry, instead allowing air to fill much of my lungs to heave a sigh. I brush my hair, as I have done for the past five years, make my breakfast, prepare my papers, read the newspaper alone-- all things I have done for the past five years without Karen or anyone I particularly care about.

~~~~~

I'm at my office for only a few minutes to gather anything necessary for today's trials. There is not very much to take other than my claims to imprison Elizabeth and free Karen, along with any evidence to be presented to my other court officials. I leave just when Ethan arrives with his cup of coffee and computer; before he can say anything, and before he can ask any questions. Once in the familiar glowing hallway, I glance over my shoulder. He's already settled at the desk. I leave the sudden sound of typing behind. Ethan is merely keeping Karen's seat warm for now.

Once reaching the elevator-- one of the only ways up to my office floor-- the ride is silent and solitary until the eighteenth floor, when more and more of my fellow Erudite enter the lift. Then the questions begin to roll in. Erudite aren't always interested in small talk. Anyone could simply look at weather chart to decide whether it is personally "a lovely day" or "a nasty" one.

So engineers bombard me with, Our team has certainly gone far in our research and technology, but we have (insert idea) and would like a patent for it. Perhaps, Ms. Matthews, we could create a date to discuss further plans? Occasionally, I bump into one of my students. Those conversations are much more intriguing. The enlarging of their pupils and eager faces when they look up to me is fulfilling in some aspects.

I blink. One of the initiates stands in front of me; Abigail initiated from Amity. Her eyes are dimmer now than they were when she first chose; the droplet of blood was thick and took a second longer to fall into the pink water below. "Good morning Dr. Matthews! Regarding the-"

The elevator dings. I glance up at a four. Looks like I will have to walk five flights then.

"Ms. Detanelli, I need to be somewhere now. If you would message me with your concerns, it would be much appreciated!" I order, trying to zip out of the confined space before garnering any more attention from my faction.

The stairwell walls are blank, as are the steps themselves. My fingers can barely keep themselves on the stainless steel rail. It should have been shined yesterday by the factionless janitor. Though they used too much product, my fingers pull my body back towards the railing with every swerve onto the next floor. I count the stories down. Three: my heel slips. Two: A student passes by, heading upward. He ignores his panicked faction leader. It's expectant that those in higher positions would have less time to spare. One: The metal door marks my destination. I lug the slab of metal towards myself before heading through the court region halls. The path itself diverges to end with three doors. The set of double-doors lead to the courtroom. The right path leads to a record room, where files as old as two hundred years sit in folders while more recent information is stored in the database. I turn left and push the door away from myself to reveal a large white room, that isn't particularly cavernous, only large in area. Two blue banners lean against the wall opposite to that of the main doors. A white desk is situated in between the flags like Karen will be between my legs. I shouldn't focus on that now though.

Already, navy-clad figures are situated behind the table. I approach them and take my place in the center. No one says a word. A silvery square clock hangs over the door. Yet before us is also a glass box. The prisoner will sit or stand in there, as their faults are recited to their ears. The sound waves will travel through the canal. The tones will be interpreted by the nerves in their ear, and the electrical impulses will alert the brain, where it will thereupon interpret those abstractions, and construe them into meaning. I look for the time. Karen's trial will start in exactly thirty seconds. She must be outside those very doors at this moment, waiting with the guard by her side. He probably looks at the second hand on his watch, eager for the time to be just right.

Then the doors open, revealing a neater Karen than the one in her first trial. Her hair doesn't fly in every direction, trying to desperately escape her head. Instead, it lies over her shoulders, brushed with her fingers. I imagine Karen, slumped in her cell with nothing to do and choosing to prepare herself for today. She walks into the box. Her footsteps are the loudest in the room but are deathly quiet compared to mine.

Our eyes meet, and stay glued to each other for the entire duration of the trial. I remember purposefully staring at her during the testimony five years ago. I want to repeat that very situation, as to remind her.

"It is the ninety-second day of the year, thirty-thirty," I start. "We are gathered here today for the official release of Karen Matthews." I finish with a small smile only Karen would be able to distinguish. "Karen Matthews, you are released after a review of your previous records and denouncement of their accuracy. From today, you will be re-initiated into Erudite, following the class of incoming Erudite this year." With those words, the trial ends. Now Karen will have to study to re-take her initiation tests.

The guard who brought Karen in leaves with her. The council of judges and record-keepers remain. Nearly half an hour later, Elizabeth enters. She struggles with the guard up to the glass encasing as if she can't see her own inability to escape. Strands of hair fly as she flails her head with every burst of motion from the guard. However, his grip is stronger than any force Redd could ever gather with her motion, and she never reaches her personal goal.

For the sake of information-keeping, I have to repeat the date. "This trial is in assembly for the crimes committed by Elizabeth P. Redd. The individual is accused of an unlawful attempt to gather information, and has been found guilty with multiple testimonies regarding the matter." That accusation was never a part of my original plan, but I dug around a few nights ago and found that spying without consent is illegal. "The sentence will be exile from this faction. Trial ended." I stand up and start towards my office as soon as I finish. I never want to look Redd in the eyes again. Just before leaving, I glance at my enemy and see to venom pouring out of her and flowing--splashing, and striking me with a Dauntless kick in the face.

~~~~~

"Jeanine!" Karen gasps as I appear through the doorway to my office. She was freed as soon as the trial ended, but Karen still wears her cell clothes. Her weight pushes into me as her arms snake around my neck and over my shoulders. I hold onto Karen's waist. Her lips collide against mine. The kiss is hard and short, with all the gratitude of a longer and softer one. Then Karen parts, drawing her warmth with her. It was pleasant to have it transferred due to the laws of thermodynamics, even though it is the same laws that result in the unsatisfactory feeling of coldness once that source of warmth goes away.

"Thank you, Jeanine," I hear her whisper as she looks out the window at our gleaming city below. The light reflects off of posts, beams, and windows. It turns Chicago into a sea of gleaming lights.

Her eyes move toward her old desk. Ethan and his things are nowhere in sight. A note on the desk reads: Went out to get lunch. Be back soon. I don't know what to expect from "soon", but Ethan may not need to return. Karen can take up his position as soon as she learns how to use the program. "I think I need to fire my secretary."

"Noted," Karen says. A smile escapes her before it falls and she turns to me. "Where is Jake?"

My heart sinks. She doesn't know that she should be asking, 'Where was Jake?'