...breathe me...

[kris]

"Sometimes there are no words or clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day. Sometimes, the day just... ends."
--Aaron Hotchner

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Saturday, October 2nd, 2010
8:35 P.M. E.S.T.

It was raining the day that… that he...

The rain is merciless as it pounds upon the city of Durham, the wind howling as it helped the falling droplets of water slam into every available surface with all of the fury Mother Nature could muster. Most of the people that inhabited the city had the sense to stay inside… but for the moment, common sense is just one of the many things that the Southern Belle lacked. The chill of autumn digs its claws into the blond that made her way down the sidewalk; beyond where the suede of her duster covered her, she's soaked to the bone, black dress-pants sticking to her legs in much the same fashion as her sopping curls cling to her scalp. While biological impulses cause her to shiver, Natalie is largely numb to the chills that are running along her spine. That was the perfect word to describe what she had become ever since she had been called into Morgan Reid's office - numb, unfeeling. Sure, there had been a brief respite from her zombielike state when her opponent at Fallout finally pushed her buttons one too many times, provoking the sort of outburst that was but a taste of what that… that little bitch deserved… but even the feverish heat of her anger hadn't been able to stay around for long. The news she had received a mere day or two ago had done what professional wrestling had been unable to do; rip that will to live, that fire right out of her chest and stomp it into the ground, leaving her body to go through the motions of existing with all of the passion of a robot. Her mind works at a similarly mechanical pace, slow and unwieldy like gears that are beginning to rust despite years of careful treatment.

…that he…

Sirens go off in the distance, red and blue and white lights reflecting off the pavement and the slick stone of the buildings around her. A flash of memory--

Why had the principal called her down to his office? It wasn't like she was a trouble maker - Heck, she'd never so much as gotten a verbal reprimand from one of her teachers! - but the tone of his voice as it rang out over the PA system in Mister Clark's room where she took Chemistry I every day had given her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her teacher had given her the hall pass without so much as a word. Why was she being treated like she had done something wrong? Maybe this was some sort of joke, some sort of twisted April Fool's Day prank that was a few weeks late...

--and all of the air is sucked out of her lungs, the blond stumbling her way to a stop as her vision grows hazy around the edges. A trembling hand reaches out to anchor herself to the nearest wall as if she'd fall off of the face of the Earth without it as she struggles to breathe again--

'Poor thing, to lose her father at such a tender age.' The pitying looks were the worst part, as if she were laying in that coffin right alongside of the salesman that would never give her a slightly-crooked smile again instead of standing there, all too aware of her pulse. 'Who will walk her down the aisle when she married that nice Spencer boy? She's exactly what he needs - a level head and good hips for the big babies that'd come from him. Ooh, or maybe she'll marry the mayor's son? He's been sweet on her for years, although she's kept herself chaste just as she should.' Who cared about what the future of their gossip was going to be?! The fact that those harpies, those heartless old maids were blathering about such things in the funeral home like it was their sewing circle twisted something inside of her until it broke and she ran out into the night, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She wanted to scream at them that her father, her touchstone and source of wisdom, her shelter from the storm was gone and he wasn't coming back… but she couldn't summon the breath to do it.

--a choked-out sob the result when she tries to exhale what little air she brought in with her attempts. It felt like all of the emotional wounds that time had scabbed over to the point that she thought them healed were all ripped open and hurting anew in her lungs. Her heart's frantic pumping seems to resonate in her ears as those rusted gears began grinding faster and faster, gnashing teeth clattering as they try to consume their way through each other to get at the railing beneath them.

…and that she…

Mom, Mister Morgan and I have talked about it… and we've decided that you need to go to the Betty Ford Clinic. It's what's best for you, and--

An' I know as well as ya do, Angie, that Robbie sure as Hell wouldn' want ya t'drink yerself t'death.

Mentioning her dead husband by name made something snap inside of her mother's eyes. Being forced to face the present instead of being allowed to continue drinking her way back through time to when the man she loved was alive and well was just too much for her already fragile mental state to take. Natalie couldn't trick herself into seeing anything but hatred in Angela's eyes… not anymore.

Ya don' know a… a fuckin' thing about what he'd want! Ya jus' wan' me t'disappear so that y'can forget all about 'im! But I won' let ya, oh no… I won' let ya take me out behin' th' barn so that ya can shoot me right between th'fuckin' eyes!

Her knees begin to shake, the weight upon her shoulders becoming far too much for her to bear. Even if it is rooted in the best of intentions, even if she wanted nothing more than to take on what she saw as her responsibilities alone… her refusal to accept the help of her friends is pride, and that particular sin is taking its pound of flesh. Those gears within her mind begin to slip free entirely, the track beneath them bending and contorting.

Mom, that's not what we want at all! We want you to be there when--

When what, huh?! When you finally find some pathetic son-of-a-bitch that'd lower his standards so far that he'd actually give you a chance?! Don't make me laugh! All the more ye've done since your father died was become the bigges' fuckin' disappointment--

That's enough, Angela!

Natalie had never heard her father's best friend use that tone of voice before, not even in some of the promotional videos he had done with Jason Rolento before he turned his back on his mentor. Morgan Reid wasn't just irritated or annoyed, oh no… he was well and truly angry. His face was as red as a beet as he raised his voice further, driven far past politeness by what he was witnessing.

You know damn well that Robbie'd be mighty proud of his little girl! She's gone and made her dreams come true, she's got her own house and plenty of friends... and more'n that, she's actually rebuilt her life after he left it, which is more than I can say for her momma! Just b'cause you can't move on and be happy like Robbie'd want ya to be doesn' mean that you shoul' be yellin' at your daughter!

No…!

Ignoring her mental plea of anguish, her mind continues to merrily tear itself apart from the inside out… that memory reaching its conclusion, one that she had only just begun to recover from before she was knocked right back down by the news of her mother's death.

I don' have a daughter anymore. That little blond cunt is dead to me.

A strangled sob escapes Natalie's lips as she collapses against the wall that she had been holding onto, the knowledge that she would never be able to repair that breach in her relationship with her mother the straw that broke the camel's back. Digging her nails into the wall as if she could even so much as make a scratch in it, another sob follows the first, the convulsion of her diaphragm and lungs doubling her over.

So this… this is how Mom felt...

She understood, now… understood why her mother had ran into the embrace of Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker. Maybe it would be best for her to go there herself, to let herself be crushed into oblivion… Lord only knows that it would be easier than facing a life as an orphan. Those gossips all those years ago needed new material, right? Maybe she should give it to them, scratch that itch for a good scandal--

Natalie? Natalie!

The sound of her one-time tag partner's voice (as well as the running footsteps that followed as Christian Matthews catches up to her)forcibly drags the Southern Belle back to the here and now. Even if it is the barest of improvements from the parts of the past that she had been reliving, it is still jarring to her when he comes around in front of her and puts his hands on her shoulders, his expression one of concern… and it only gets worse when she speaks, her voice raspy around the edges.

…Christian?

Are you alright?

Is she alright? Is she alright?! A bitter, humorless laugh escapes the Southern Belle's lips as she shoves herself away from him, attempting to make her way past him on unsteady legs. If it wasn't for the lack of alcohol on her breath, one could assume that Natalie has fallen off the wagon… and, to a degree, she had. It just wasn't one that involved any sort of liquor.

I'm just fine, Christian. As a matter of fact, I'm right as fucking rain.

It'd take a fool to believe the Southern Belle… and despite what some people may think, Christian is no fool. He catches up with her easily, grabbing her by the arm as gently as he can to stop her in her tracks. Since she tries to keep right on going, she winds up spinning around to face him before he speaks, his tone doing the best it can to calm her.

Natalie, I know that you're hurting right now--

The Hell do you know about how I feel, huh?! You have no idea how I feel right now, so stop talking like you do!

She tries to push herself away, escape the attempt to console her… but this time, Christian doesn't let her get away. His grip tightens only enough to keep her from walking away as he pulls her in a little closer, still keeping that soothing tone despite how it has failed to work so far.

Just because I haven't been exactly where you are right now doesn't mean that I don't care about you, and it doesn't mean that I can't help you... but I can't help you if you won't let me. Let me in, Natalie… please.

It's that last word that provokes her, the Southern Belle hauling off and smacking him right across the face hard enough to leave her palm stinging before she unleashes the very same anger that had ran rampant over Sloan Sawyer.

I don't need your help!

Surprised, he releases his hold on her wrist… freeing her hands up to pummel his chest with punches that rock him back, but don't knock him over.

I don't need it! God damn it all, I don't need it!

A few more blows and she begins to slow down, the realization sinking in the back of her mind that even though she wished that what she was screaming at the top of her lungs was true… it wasn't, and nothing she could do could change that. It is this undeniable truth that has her surrendering, the sobs beginning anew as she tried to apologize, tried to say anything that could let him know that she hadn't meant it… but only one word of it all gets out.

...I...

She collapses against his chest as the dam inside of her finally breaks, years upon years of bottled up emotion finally finding their outlet in the form of her crying into Christian's shoulder. He doesn't try to move her inside, nor does he say a word… instead, he simply holds her and lets her cry it out on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her as if they could shield her from the rain as the scene fades.

-------------------------♥-------------------------

Are you starting to warm up yet?

Considering how he had found her out in one of the worst autumn storms he had ever seen, there's plenty of reason for the concern that is in Christian's voice as the scene fades back in. Enough time has passed for him to slowly but surely calm Natalie down enough to get her to walk the couple of blocks to the hotel he was staying at. The pair is now in the room he had rented for the weekend, the Second Coming leaning against the dresser while the Southern Belle sits on the bed. Ever the gentleman, Christian's offer to allow Natalie to change into some of his dry clothing has been accepted… although just what she is wearing beyond a pair of his sweats is obscured by the blanket she has wrapped around herself. He too has done his best to dry off and get warm, a clean sweatshirt and work-out pants his chosen attire. Blond hair having long since started to frizz out, her cheeks are ruddy from far more than the cold when she responds.

I think so, yeah...

For a moment, an uncomfortable (at least, for her anyway) silence reigns between them… one that the Southern Belle decides to break with a sigh. She sounds chagrinned - as well she should - when next she speaks.

…l-look, Christian, I'm sorry--

Don't mention it. What's a few fisticuffs between friends?

His chuckle is enough to draw one out of the Southern Belle, hers hesitant and weak… but still there. It's a good sign, an indicator that he found her before she went too far over the edge. While he's visibly relieved at her reaction, he knows that they're not out of the woods yet… so he proceeds with caution.

Anyway, you're more than welcome to stay up here with me until you're warm. Once you are, we'll go out and find your car together so we can get you home, okay?

Natalie fidgets a little with the edge of the blanket, her gaze falling from his as her blush intensifies.

…I don't have a car.

…you don't?

After she shakes her head in silent response, he raises an eyebrow. What he decides to do next is a risk, but he has the feeling that this is not just some coincidence, or an instance of her being frugal. Taxi rides aren't cheap, after all… and considering the house she owned and the clothes she wore, surely a reliable vehicle was a reasonable thing to attain, right?

Why not? I mean, you have your license, right?

Yes. I just… would rather not drive, is all.

That pause - and the way her fidgeting resumed with a vengeance - is all the confirmation Christian needs. Sitting on the bed beside her, one of his hands seeks out hers to hold as he gently pressed the issue. He had gotten through the walls that she had been so careful to maintain… if he didn't get her to finally talk about it, then he had his doubts that she ever would. Even though he wasn't entirely sure if he was going about this the right way, he knew that he had to try. It was better than just letting things lie… or so he hoped.

Why not?

At first, it seems like she isn't going to answer him - she looks down at the floor as if the generic pattern of flowers and leaves was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, her shoulders tensing beneath that blanket… but Christian's patience and persistence is rewarded when she begins to speak, her tone hesitant.

…as… well, as silly as it sounds, I haven't been able to bring myself to get behind the wheel ever since the middle of my senior year of high school. It was raining the day that I got called down to the principal's office…

The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the principal's office, the repetitive sound about as soothing as water torture to the young blond as she sat in the chair in front of the desk of one Mister Deemer. No matter how hard she tried to strain to hear it, the more soothing rhythm of the rain was beyond her earshot… and so she waited, fingers interlaced as her hands sat upon her lap. The secretary that had let her into the room and told her that the principal would be along shortly hadn't even been able to look her in the eyes, an unsettling thing to be sure considering how the faculty always greeted Natalie with a welcoming smile. What had she inadvertently done to earn such a chilly reception? She couldn't think of anything she had done, nor could she think of anyone that would want to be dishonest about her in an attempt to hurt her reputation. After all, Natalie had made a point of following her father's advice about treating others as she herself wished to be treated… which meant that she was always friendly and willing to help. Surely someone would have warned her if one of the class bullies had decided to try to ruffle her feathers just because-- the doorknob clatters softly as it turns, old mechanisms softly protesting being forced into motion. A few seconds later, the old hinges on the door gave up their own squeaking complaints as Mister Deemer entered the office. All it took was a single look at the somber look on his face to trigger a new shockwave of nervous fear. Never in the six years she had attended high school had she ever seen him looking like that - usually, he was as jovial as the red-suited elf that rode around in a sleigh pulled by elves that he resembled. Even though he only lingered in the doorway for a moment, it seemed that he stood there for an eternity before he heaved a sigh and entered his office properly, the door swinging closed behind him. Making his way over to sit in his oversized leather chair that was likely older than Natalie was, the principal finally met her eyes before he began to speak.

Natalie, there's no easy way for me to say this… so I'm going to just cut to the chase.

Despite saying that he was going to get to the point, he fell silent for a moment… just long enough for the Southern Belle's mind to start coming up with crazier and crazier announcements that ranged from her being caught cheating on a test to being expelled because of someone planting drugs in her locker. As wrapped up as she is in her irrational thoughts, she didn't notice how her principal's somber expression had softened enough to allow tears to begin to collect in the corners of his eyes. Looking back on it, she'd wish nothing more than for one of those fears to be realized rather than something far worse than anything she could have ever imagined… but even if she had known, it wouldn't have softened the blow of the words that escaped Mister Deemer's lips.

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news… but your father was killed in a car accident this afternoon.

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After he told me that I lost my father, the world just… it stopped, y'know?

Christian can only nod in silent response to the blond, gently squeezing her hand in an attempt to support her as she essentially relived one of the most traumatic experiences of her life. He knows that it's not nearly as good as being able to reach back through time and erase that event, but he isn't sure that it would be for the best even if he could. It was surviving hardship that truly shaped what a person became… would the Southern Belle have become the strong young woman she is today if it wasn't for that loss? What he can give her, though, is an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on… so he remains right where he is, his presence enough to give Natalie the strength to answer the unspoken, obvious question.

It wasn't until I got home that I found out the details of what happened. Dad had been on his way to one of his sales appointments when a drunk driver lost control on the wet roads and skidded into the opposing lane, hitting him head-on. Mom wouldn't let me see the pictures from the accident… I didn't really need to. There's only one way that a collision like that between a compact car and a tow truck can go... the truck wins.

Another nod from the Second Coming, the young man finding his voice to offer up what he could in the way of support while also hopefully bringing his friend out of the past and into the realm of the present.

I don't think it's stupid… you not driving, I mean. I don't think I'd be able to drive either, not after that.

It took me over a year to be able to sit in the front period.

The humorless chuckle that escapes her lips is joined by a shake of her head, the sound bringing a concerned frown to Christian's lips.

As it is, I'm right back at that point… and I hate it. God, do I ever hate it...

What do you mean?

Natalie sighs, forcing herself to take a deep breath. At least when it comes to the subject of her father, she has the benefit of years worth of time to dull the pain… while the wounds involving her mother are still fresh. She blinks back tears as she forces herself to keep the majority of her composure, her tone managing to remain steady.

You know why Mister Morgan had me come to his office last Rapture, right?

I… had my suspicions, although I didn't know for sure until I asked Kara if she knew where you were. You really should call to let her know that you're alright, you know. She's worried sick… a lot of people are worried about you. You know that, right?

The slight smile that tugs at the blond's lips is chagrinned as her eyes revisit that ever-so-interesting spot on the carpet. Even though Christian's gentle chiding was but a temporary diversion from the remaining elephant in the room, the subject wasn't one that she was particularly fond of.

Yeah, I know… kinda' funny how that works, huh? I try to take care of my own problems to save people from worrying… and they end up worrying even more, in the end. You know what they say about how a certain road is paved in good intentions.

Natalie chuckles weakly as she brings her gaze back up to the Second Coming of Wrestling, the sound trailing off into a soft frown. Releasing his hold on her hand, Christian wraps his arm around her shoulders instead, giving her what warmth he can since he can only imagine just how she was trying not to go back to that frigid place he had found her in. He gets the feeling that being silent is the best he can do for her… so he does, allowing her to speak when she's gathered herself.

Anyway, when Mister Morgan told me about… about Mom... as bad as it sounds, I sort of knew that it was coming, y'know? Deep-down. Even knowing that, though… it hit me hard.

Yeah, I can't blame you there. Even with how she was treating you--

The Southern Belle interrupts Christian with a shake of her head.

That's not what hit me hardest…

N-No… you can't be serious.

That feeling of hysteria has begun to take hold of her again, the denial kicking in at a fevered pace to keep her from simply falling to pieces in front of her father's best friend and her boss… but as she shook her head back and forth, she couldn't keep herself from seeing the sorrow in Morgan Reid's eyes. When he spoke next, his voice was choked up - both at what he was about to say, and how he feels helpless about protecting the only surviving relative of a man that he considered a brother.

I wish I was kiddin', lil' gal… I'm so sorry.

A weak sob escaped the Southern Belle as she reached out for Morgan's shoulder to support herself, Shane Lawson's presence be damned. Having experienced loss like this himself, she knew that the once-volatile owner would be more than understanding - and even though he didn't say a word, she knew that he was offering his silent support. Even with that, however, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind - the very same which had caused her to ask to see pictures of the accident that claimed her father - that she couldn't ignore… and so she managed to get out a single word.

…how..?

Both men tensed up at the question, a look exchanged that could have only meant that it would make the news even harder for her to swallow. Ultimately, it is Morgan that speaks.

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…she was drivin' drunk, an' lost control on tha bridge out on Cheek Road thanks to th'rain. She… she wen'through th'railin' an' inta' the river.[/right]

…wow, Natalie I...

All the more Christian can do is hug the Southern Belle close to his chest as fresh sobs escaped her lips, Natalie succumbing to the pull of grief. It wasn't anything he could blame her for, really - he'd never be able to blame her for being upset by a cruel stroke of fate. All the more he can do is try to soften the blow… and so he patiently comforts her until the sobs subside, sniffles an acceptable compromise since they allow her to speak.

I… I don't know if I would have taken the news any better if things had been different...

Christian shakes his head.

Don't worry about that. What you need to focus on is getting back on your feet. Considering everything else you've been through, I know you'll be able to do it… and I know you'll come out stronger in the end.

Another hug, this one returned the best she can through that blanket. When he's released his hold, she looks up at him with a soft smile despite the lingering sadness in her eyes. The darkness may still be present… but the sun's begun to rise again.

…thank you, Christian.

Don't mention it. You can repay me with some more of those cookies of yours. So, ah… how about we see what's on TV?

The offer to do something simple, something that was mindless in its entertainment… it is a tempting offer, and not just because of how it would grant her a temporary reprieve from her grief. Christian had made the successful transition from an ally in the ring to a friend outside of it - and surely he deserved to have some of the good as well as the bad, right? Natalie nods.

It sure beats the idea of going out in that rain again...

As everything fades to black, Christian can be seen leaning back to snag the remote off of the bedside table before he takes his spot beside the Southern Belle, the pair sitting as if they were on a couch instead of on the end of a bed. The sound of canned laughter earns a bit of a smile from her as the Second Coming allows his arm to drop behind her, letting her remain upright on her own power… but being there to catch her should she falter.