not quite karma

Who: Elle and Sam
Where: Nighthawk's Diner
When: Evening

The radio hadn't provided its usual comfort that night. Most days she spent at least a few moments dancing along to the music in the privacy of her living room. Listening to chatter in the evenings, mouthing the words to the bouncy jingles. It was less lonely that way.

It had only been on as background noise when a few words caught her attention. Turning up the volume, she had peered at the device and waited for more information. The rallying of search parties told her nothing.

Grabbing a coat and her bag, she rushed out of the apartment to find the nearest newspaper vendor. That in itself was a first. Current affairs washed over her and the papers always seemed to be filled with the negative. The man she found was gruffly hollering the headlines in an effort to drum up more trade. Elle had handed him some money and, in her haste, forgot a polite thank you smile.

Nighthawk's had been the closest place to dart into and there she now sat. A waitress had brought over a slice of her favourite pie. It sat untouched at the side of the newspaper spread out in the table in front of her. She scoured the pages, searching for names.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She knew that Helena probably had nothing to do with the incident at Bedlam. She was probably in her room. Everything was probably as it always was. But she couldn't help but wonder what if. What if she was hurt? What if she was dead? What if she was slowly freezing out in the cold? What would that mean for their little broken family? Would it even mean anything at all?

Too many possibilities.

What bothered her most was how she felt about it. She should have been worried. The woman had been part of her life. She had tried to play mother, in her own vain way. She should have been worried out of principle if not genuine concern. Instead she felt a guilty sense of satisfaction at the idea of that part of her life, her family's life, finally ending. It felt like comeuppance. She felt sick and smug all at once. It wasn't the thought of suffering, she didn't relish the thought of anyone suffering, just the notion that Helena was gone.

Things couldn't always be fixed, but they could be a little patched up. Things always came good in the end.

It all made her head hurt. Anxiously playing with a fork, she stared at the same page of the paper as though it would suddenly, magically answer all questions.

After Ian had left, Sam paced around her apartment for awhile before announcing to her guards that she was going to Nighthawks. The two men didn't appear happy about her declaration but they were under orders and so with a thick jacket and umbrella, Sam walked to the diner, two other men who'd been watching the outside of the apartment building tailing her. It was sweet, in an incredibly annoying way, and Sam was reluctant to admit that she actually felt a lot better not walking by herself.

The diner was half filled, a little less than normal but with the weather was still pretty terrible. Her guards were good at looking inconspicuous and made their way to the bar as if they were just off-duty cops looking for something good to eat. Sam on the other hand looked for her usual seat and found a girl sitting there instead, a newspaper spread out in front of her. She seemed to look lonely and nervous, judging by the way she was playing with a fork. So Sam headed over and smiled gently down at the girl.

"Hi, there. You mind if I join you?" Sam was worried that she might scare her, what with her face being covered in cuts and vicious bruises but her smile was nice and her voice was gentle.

Elle shook her head and gestured to a seat, trying not to stare. The company was welcome - it might take her mind off things, if only for a while. Quickly she set the fork down on the plate, the metal making a clatter as it hit, and folded up the newspaper so she wasn't taking up the entire table. Once she realised she probably looked twitchy, she gave the woman a smile. It was meant to come across as friendly but no doubt looked closer to shaky.

Going into her bag, she dug out her notebook and put it out in front of her. For a moment she debated what to say. If she should apologise for being out of sorts. That would probably make her look stranger. She plumped for her usual, standard greeting. In a way it brought a sense of normalcy. Comfortable familiarity.

Hi, I'm Elle, she wrote. Please don't mind the notebook, it's the best way for me to talk to you. This time her smile was wider, bright. Just like normal.

Sam waited patiently across from Elle while she wrote out the greeting in her notebook. She was certainly caught off guard at first but the girl seemed happy enough and she returned her bright smile. "It's nice to meet you Elle. My name's Sam. And don't worry, I don't mind the notebook at all. You have really nice handwriting." Okay so it sounded kind of stupid but it wasn't every day she got to "talk" with other girls, let alone girls who weren't related to her and there was something really nice about Elle. "I was going to order some pie. Did you want any? My treat." Because then maybe she wouldn't feel so bad about ordering a bunch. "Anything you want and as much as you want."

She looked down at her own words on the page, head tilted thoughtfully to one side. The compliment was appreciated and somehow reassuring. It was nice how some people could be so readily accepting. Gaze going back up to Sam, she smiled shyly as a thank you.

The pie's really good here. Not that her still full plate was much of a testament to that. I was waiting until I'd finished the paper before starting on it. It's more of a treat that way. She felt compelled to offer an explanation, and it sounded plausible enough. Surprised by the offer, her eyes widened for a second before she nodded. It seemed rude to turn it down. Would blueberry be okay? she asked. It's my second favourite. But anything's good.

"What's your first favorite?" Sam asked. "I like chocolate pie. Cherry pie. Apple pie. They have chocolate pies with Hershey bars. That was my idea. I went through this period of time where all I wanted to eat were candy bars." She looked down at the newspaper that Elle was looking at. It was opened to the article about those who escaped Bedlam. Possibly. "I'm thinking that isn't helping anything with your appetite though," she said gently, running a hand through her hair.

Peach pie, she replied. It's sunny on the inside. It tastes the best, too. But a Hershey bar pie sounds really good. This time her smile was more genuine. She made a mental note to try a slice of that. With ice cream. That sounded just about perfect.

A flush of red crept into her cheeks. Sam was more right than she knew. Elle frowned to herself, pen hovering over the page. Some of the things that happen in the world are horrible, she answered vaguely. I'm sure the police are working hard to find out what happened and who's responsible. That's what she hoped. The sooner they knew what was going on, the sooner the paper would print it. Unless they tried to cover it up or didn't release all the details. More possibilities to swim around in her head.

"I'm a police officer," Sam said. "I work in homicide but I'm on leave right now." She glanced down at Elle's still mostly full plate then waved over a waitress. "Do you think we could get some peach pie, Hershey pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie, and some vanilla ice cream and chocolate ice cream on the side? And a large Hazelnut. And a refill for what my friend is having." The waitress nodded with a grin and left to go fill the order.

She looked back at the newspaper, hesitating, then chose not to inquire yet. Perhaps Elle had a family member at Bedlam. "I'm pretty positive that my friends are going to work as hard as they can to find out what happened to those people. That's our job. All those people inside the hospital have family that think about them." 'Think' seemed to be a better word to use than 'worried'. Bedlam was... bedlam. "So answers are really important."

That was a lot food. She wondered if Sam just had a healthy appetite or if it was for comfort. She looked again at Sam's cut face, being sure not to gawp. Obviously she wasn't the only one with problems. Terrible as it was, that made her feel better. And whatever had happened to the woman was bound to be far worse than being startled by an article in a newspaper.

She nodded at the comment about the Bedlam patients. Indeed they did. I know that everything will get solved. Again she nodded, mouth curving into a small smile. My father works there so it's worrying when you're only able to hear some of a story. What a hypocritical statement. Half of a story was exactly what she had just given Sam. Veering off the subject she wrote, Working in homicide must be a tough job. Especially for a woman. Not that she would say that. You must see all sorts of things. Her eyes flitted downwards briefly then met the woman's. It must take a lot of nerve.

Her dad worked there? That was interesting. She wondered what he did there. If he was a doctor or custodian or something but she wasn't going to ask. It was none of her business. "It is," Sam confirmed with a nod, pausing as their drinks were set in front of them and she eagerly reached for her coffee, dumping a liberal amount of creamer and sugar inside. "It was really hard at first but being able to help families find out the truth about what happened to their loved ones makes it worth it. That's why I became a police officer. To help people." She was pretty sure that was the reason so she was sticking with it.

She slowly swirled a spoon around in her tea, watching it ripple as she listened. That's a good reason. It's a good way to look at things. There's nothing worse than not knowing. She decided then that Sam was a good person. That there should be more people like that in the world. Noble people that wanted the world to be a better place. I'm sure they're all very grateful to you for giving them that peace. Both the living and the dead. She wasn't sure if she believed in the afterlife and everything like that but it was nice to think of those who had met a violent end resting more easily.

I think you're very brave. It must get dangerous. It was almost a question but not quite. Asking about what had happened to her without actually asking it.

"Yeah, sometimes it's hard," Sam said, sipping her hot coffee, her shoulders relaxing with the comforting taste. "Sometimes stuff gets out of control and, well," she waved her hand around, indicating her face. This girl didn't need to know what happened. No one did. "But it's cool. You should see the other guy." Sam grinned, playing it up for Elle. Yeah... the other guy.

She smiled back as it seemed like the right reaction. It wasn't her place to go delving into a virtual stranger's affairs. I'll be sure not to get on your bad side, she joked, mimicking Sam's attitude. Conscious that might have been a tad callous or near the mark, she added, I hope you're all right and feel better soon. It was a sincere sentiment, not more fishing for information.

Sam laughed, shaking her head. The girl was funny and it was easy to get what she was "saying" despite the words being written on paper. "Don't worry, I'm nice! I promise. And thank you. I'm feeling a lot better. I'm going to go back to work soon. Probably on Saturday." She'd need to talk to Jakob. Get a list together... "So what are you doing here tonight on your lonesome?" Because Elle looked young. Maybe she wasn't as young as she looked, but this girl was certainly in her teens or just barely out of them.

Make sure that you take care of yourself and don't work too hard. Elle wagged a finger at her, like a mother dispensing advice and caution, then broke into a smile. She hoped things would go easy on Sam for a while. Hesitating, she tapped the notebook lightly with the top of the pen. Do you ever get that feeling that you don't want to be at home? It's nice to go somewhere and be around people. Even if you're not with anyone, you're not alone. The general hustle and bustle had a soothing quality. It struck her then how she didn't really have anyone to turn to. There was her father but there were plenty of things she couldn't discuss with him. Plenty of things he didn't want to hear about. She bit her bottom lip, poised as though she was going to continue. In the end, she settled on, And there's the pie, of course.

And pie there was. The waitress came back with an assortment of dessert. Half tins of the pies were set out on plates before them with an assortment of forks and two heaping bowls of vanilla ice cream. "I'll go put this in a box for you," the waitress told Elle with a smile, taking away the girl's uneaten food before any protest could be made.

"The pie makes any destination worth it. That's what I think," Sam told Elle, taking a bite out of her ice cream while she contemplated the answer to her first question. "Yeah... yeah, I did. My mother is Italian and she didn't like my job field," she explained, as if her mother being Italian was the best kind of answer. "So I had to escape. Everyone should have a place to escape to."

She watched as the waitress walked away then stared at the feast in front of them. Helping herself to a forkful of the chocolate pie, she nodded in appreciation. It was as tasty as she'd thought it would be. A mouthful of ice cream straight after prompting more satisfied nods. Gesturing to both the foodstuffs, she beamed and rolled her eyes skyward as if to say 'that's delicious'.

Face falling into a more serious expression, her eyes were sympathetic. Difficult mothers. She could relate. Have things improved between you? Focusing on the positive. Or what could potentially be positive, at least.

Sam shrugged, taking a large bite out of the chocolate pie and quickly shoving in some ice cream. Yes. Delicious. Maybe if she ever had to leave the department, she'd come back here... "Things are fine between us. She's pissed off about what happened though. 'Why couldn't you have married that nice boy you met at church when you were younger. When do I get my grandbabies," she mimicked in a pitch perfect, thick Italian accent. "I know she could be worse and I love her, but I don't know if things are worse or better. I'm thinking worse." A bite of the cherry pie this time. Again. Delicious. "You're close with your dad, huh?" she ventured, pretty sure that was the case. Elle hadn't yet mentioned a mother, only her father and in those cases, from what she'd seen, the father was either the bigger part of the picture.

She had to smile at the impersonation. Hopefully Sam wouldn't fit it offensive. I'm sure she's proud of you, too. But it's hard when they want you to live up to their expectations or have your life mapped out for you. You don't want to let them down but you want to be who you are and free to make your own choices. That might have been more her rambling off into some more personal territory. Her focus went to her notebook purely to avert her gaze, feeling a little embarrassed.

More nodding. My mother left when I was four. I've had stepmothers but it's more been the two of us, really. Which was partly down to her own engineering. He hadn't picked the most maternal or interested of women and in turn Elle had been quite content to keep them at a distance. She hadn't wanted to play happy families with them. It wasn't from the threat of someone taking the place of her mother. It was the threat of someone taking her place.

"I'm sorry your mom left," Sam said sincerly. "I don't know what I would've done if my parents split when I was a kid. Like, would getting remarried make my mom and dad love me less. Would the step-parent not like me and try send me away. Books don't really help with that." Sam didn't know if that was the case with Elle's childhood, but Sam was a detective and Sam was creative and yeah, she'd thought about it from time to time when she was a kid. "All I know is that I ever get married to a guy who has kids, I'd do my best to show that I loved them too. That's what being a family is."

Elle shrugged awkwardly. It's okay. I don't remember that much about her. Mostly silly little things. Her overall recollection of her mother was more of a montage than anything. Sitting at her dressing table putting on lipstick. Her perfume. The way she would hum as she brushed Elle's hair.

Her lips formed a tight line and she shook her head. Even if she had had a book on it, she doubted it would have made any difference. She had gotten used to different women floating in and out of her life. Some of them were real and stuck around a while. Others were more of an illusion, leaving traces of make up on collars or addresses in coat pockets.

I suppose some people don't really care for family that much. Not a ready made one, anyway. Or they have other things to focus on. Like the cushy lifestyle that could be provided for them. Then again, some people do. She made herself smile at Sam. Keep smiling, and everything's all right.

Ah... this was a touchy subject, that's what Sam figured and she went back to nabbing a piece of the pies and her slowly melting ice cream. And the coffee. Ooooh the coffee. They fell into 'silence', so to speak. Elle getting a break from scribbling her replies and just enjoying the feast before them. While they ate, the waitress came back with with Elle's dinner in a box and a smaller one on top, the smell of blueberries wafting from it. Sam winked at Elle over their food. "The night cook, Tommy? He makes the best pie. Really likes giving it away too. If you ever come back, you let them know that you're Sammy's friend."

Thank you for being so nice to me, Elle wrote back. She swallowed the lump in her throat, sensing herself starting to waver. One hand pushed her hair away from her face. If you like plays, I can get you good seats at the theatre, she offered in return. I work there. I help with the scenery and things like that. Back to a safer, less fraught topic.

"You work at Hill Street?" Sam asked, smiling softly. "I like to think I'm a nice person. And if you ever need help, I can." She reached into her pocket for her business card and handed it over. "Day or night, head over to the station and they'll get me, okay?"

She gave Sam nod. It's fun to be around all those talented, creative people. The way you can see a show come together is amazing. At first it's just people standing on a stage but when the curtain comes up, it becomes something else. Even though it's only a play, it becomes sort of real. It takes you somewhere else.

Taking the card from Sam, she looked down at it between her fingers. There may have been a matter she could help with. The fact Sam was a cop meant she had access to information. Information that might not necessarily be public. Asking someone she'd just met to do something that was no doubt against regulations was too crazy a notion. She couldn't. And yet...

Nodding once again, she slipped the card into the back of the notebook. After jotting down her number at the top of a new page, she carefully tore the piece out and held it out. It might have seemed redundant, given the fact she couldn't exactly hold a conversation, but she could listen. That's my telephone number, if you want it. I know it seems silly to give it out but I have some ways. Her smile was shy but warm.

Sam took the piece of paper, glancing at it. Yeah, so it was kind of weird. She'd admit it but still, she understood the thought. "Yeah? I'll keep it in mind." She smiled at her and folded up the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. She took a sip of her coffee, wincing a little when it pulled at the bruised flesh around the side of her mouth. "Right now I'm not much use if you need me to look something up," she joked.

"Keep it in mind," she repeated in her hoarse, whispery voice. Although she wasn't keen on showcasing her limited speech, it made the phone number make a bit more sense. She kept hold of her pen as though it were a both a sign that she didn't intend to be vocal often and a comforter.

Ah. She smiled at Sam, sharing in the joke. Underneath there was a more private edge to it; the concealment of disappointment and self-deprecation. She had gotten too ahead of herself. So she shook her head. It's good to know that you're out there. Thank you.

Elle's hoarse voice had startled her. She hadn't been expecting that and she wondered, exactly, why the girl couldn't speak properly. What had happened to her? But of course she wasn't going to ask. No, she wasn't going to do that. She could find out on her own. "You're welcome," she said sincerly, finishing off her ice cream. "Do you need a ride home?" It was dark outside and the weather was a little worse than it had been when she came in and she wasn't too keen on Elle heading home on her own.

She peered out the diner's window and nodded. Her umbrella was at home and the idea of walking in the downpour wasn't exactly appealing. She wrote down her address, tore that out and gave it to Sam. Turning over to a fresh page she put, You're really kind. The food, the company, everything. She hadn't expected that the evening would turn out to be relatively pleasant.

"Do you want me to come with you or just grab you a cab?" She didn't want Elle to think that she thought she needed to have her hand held on the way home or something. It's just, you never know so it didn't hurt to ask.

A cab's fine. I'll be fine, don't worry. She had grown quite accustomed to this sort of thing. It wasn't something she resented. After all, it was better to have people trying to help you than struggling on your own. Or so she figured. It was easy to think that people had good intentions and wanted to help when you'd never actually had to struggle. When there had always been someone overshadowing everything, keeping the world secure, stable and free from any real worries.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up the boxes of pie, heading out with Sam.