does dim cywilydd ildio i drechu

 Rwy'n gwybod ichi ddweud.  a cheisiais fod yn berffaith.  ac mae'n ddrwg gen i nad oeddwn i ddim

 mae'n ormod

Roeddwn i'n meddwl erbyn hyn y gallwn ei gario, ond mae'n dod yn fwyfwy trwm o hyd.

making scenes noir/the question remains (jmmuse)

 

And so, by the time we find where part of Willem’s team are stuck, it is about eight o’clock and now dark. 

We find them, on a darkened side street, the silver Chevy van parked in a small lot off the quaint main street. I see that all the shops are closed and as we pull up behind the van in the parking space behind it, I say to Jörn,

“I wonder why we never came here, it’s so pretty.”

“Hmm, likely the times we are living in?” he lightly says and shrugs, “I don’t think they’ve been open for business for months. Remember? —we came up just as everything hit.”

And as he says this, I look around and notice how deserted the quiet, picturesque town looks ....and then try to imagine this place during other times, crammed with people during the Olympics and find it somehow so impossible to.

“Well....” I say regretfully, “it’s too bad we didn’t think to bring your parents here,” as he reaches to open the door to get out

But he doesn’t answer that, instead he says,

“stay in the truck and keep it running. I’ll need the light.”

And as he gets out, he slips on a mask, and then, I see two get out of the silver van to meet him, while another one had already been standing outside smoking a cigarette as we had pulled up— and now I watch him first glance at me and then at Jörn as he walks straight over to him and say, 

“Deiter—“ but the rest of what he says is lost in the stillness of the town’s cloak of night, absorbed in the buildings acoustics.... 

And I look around again to see a walled cluster of surrounding buildings of small and sundry ski and souvenirs shops along with other outdoor sporting gear shops

At first they gather to chat briefly but Jörn keeps a safe distance and gestures to them as he does this. Then Jörn comes back to the truck to get another spare tire and then proceeds to change the rear flattened one, and while he does this, he keeps talking in low tones to them, as one of the others steps up to lend a hand, then takes away the other tire to put it in the van.

It is always cold at night up in the mountains and I watch their breath escape in the darkness and find —the shock of this makes me think, how harmless this once seemed....

and think —what a different world it is

but one day, let us hope that, this too—shall pass. 

And wonder if this is something like what it was like during the world wars.... some dark and scary enemy.... the devastation that leaves no one untouched, the protesters and the nonbelievers, the senseless deaths and the troubles around the globe everywhere

It seems to make me wonder over what really matters

 ....but then I find I wonder even more over this world’s fascination ....seen so clearly in the entertainment industry and its evident audience ....this fascination ....with such luster ....of murder, rape, gruesome crimes, blood and war —and played— in games .... and is the majority of all you ever see streaming in shows and movies. Is it any wonder what the world has become .... 

this is often what I have wondered.... and wonder ....dare to change the dialogue.... would that I could inspire; replaced by substance more life sustainable; more intellectually challenging; would that I could dare to dream

So this I think about as I watch them with Jörn and wonder about each of them.... 

and wonder over 

what are the necessary.... ? ....evils

When Jörn returns to the truck, he reaches for the hand sanitizer, then gets in, slamming the door and starts the motor 

At first in silence he drives, and I watch them in the rear view following behind 

“We’re stopping somewhere to get something to eat, they’re starving,” he says, “there’s not much open around here but there’s a fast food place we passed I saw that is still open.”

I don’t answer, just watch the darkened scenery, still lost in my thoughts 

When we come up to it, Jörn waves them on but he pulls up further down to park the truck; he watches them get out and I realize he wants to be on look-out 

“Do you want anything?” he asks me

“From there?” I ask him shaking my head

“Well, I thought I’d ask,” and looks at me. “You’re so quiet,” he says 

“Don’t you want anything?” I ask

“No....” he says and I see he’s distracted with thoughts

“So what exactly is the plan? You said the others of Willem’s team you expect around midnight?” I ask

“Yes.”

“And then what?” I ask

“Willem’s watching what they are up to at the barn house from the monitors. We’ll wait for the others and decide whether to make a move tonight or....” Jörn stops to think and then after a moment, lets out a heavy sigh, “or wait.”

“Wait for what?” I ask him

He looks at me,

“whether Smulagan shows up.... or....”

“That’s what I thought,” I say watching him; trying to read his face

And after a deep breath, he lets it out and says,

“which .... would be better....” Jörn turns his eyes to me, narrowed, ice-cold steel heat, sharp blades of kryptonite and with the deep crease between his brows, “when we get back .... or there abouts.... first the rest of Willem’s guys need to show up and then..... Willem would have switched on and downloaded the program to send the live footage of the hidden security cameras in the barn house to— them....”

“To ‘them’. You mean the FBI?” I ask

“I mean .... everyone....” he raises his brows and stares dead-center at me, “central intelligence, my government— Stina....”

and suddenly I feel my pulse begin to race

“So when we get back?!” I almost gasp 

“We have time—“ Jörn puts a hand on my arm

“How can you be so calm?!” I ask him

“Duva, this is my work. It’s all planning and strategy. Most of the time it all goes as planned,” he says and looks back out towards the parking lot

“Most of the time....” I repeat

But he just stares out ahead deep in thought

“So—how much time do you think?” I ask him

He turns to look at me.

I say,

“you said ‘we have time’”

“Oh— well.... after they see who’s assembled in the barn house.... Willem will alert me first —so.... I think it would be a matter of minutes before they gather their own team together— once they recognize everyone who’s here and....that will be enough to get everyone into action—these aren’t just your everyday assassins, they’re all well known.... so, well— then I’d say— if he’s back in DC—Smulagan— he would have a crew in less then— well, at most two hours ....but I’d bet sooner,” Jörn says simply with a shrug 

....and it is something I see in his manner....

That strange and familiar thing and ....with it the strange and now familiar chill that I so well recognize

—and a face overlaid in the gray, chill blustery gale, half obscured by the long gold hair, caught on the wind.... 

and with it the memory of there, that glow within the kryptonite of vampire eyes, looking back at me from dreams, so long familiar, and so much.... a part of me

But accompanied now by that other chill. So often described by some as someone walking over their own grave

But I don’t recoil from it. No. Instead, I feel almost drawn.... like some foolish moth to a flame ....and move over to him, reaching for him now —as if partly from that more than dream, which feels so deeply etched and so indelibly within the retinas of a soul. I touch his face....having known and memorized every line and shadow, every crease.... as if I put it all there myself and move over to him

I put my fingers to outline his eyes, drawing with my fingertips and stare inside ....there—then move my fingertips over his lips and move to climb over him and wrap around his hips and press my mouth on his and loose his hair with my hands, in the silk of his hair,

“why do I stay?” I say against his ear

Noir scenes of escape out of a mad world (withajmmuse)

 

Jörn says,

“....so, what I was asking— and was —in a round about way—was trying to say—”

but I interrupt him feeling a dread of unease, 

“look, Jörn, I know what this is about,” I say, but ....still, I see his expression is doubtful, as he tries to say something but I ignore this and just keep talking, “we don’t have to talk about this ok? I really have never assumed or expected anything from you—from—us—this.... I’ve had no expectations, so—whatever.... ok?” and not looking at him, in a rush of words say, “—so, look—once this is all over and the safe is —well—all sorted out—you don’t have to worry about me, all right? No obligations— no strings, so— you’re free, we can just go back to our lives, you know, as it was before we ever met. And I’ll be fine about it—don’t worry! So, don’t worry about me being difficult —I swear, I won’t still be hanging around cluttering up your precise and orderly life, if that’s what you’ve been so worried about; it won’t be messy, I’ll just disappear —so relax, you can go back to your family, which will please your mother —or you can do whatever. Ok? —you’re a free agent, it’s cool.”

Not once do I look at him. Even once I am done. 

But the silence that follows .... leaves me with such a painfully awkward feeling. And still I don’t look up. I seem to be glued to stare blindly at a spot on the floor 

but feel aware of such a long, sticky lapse of silence 

only, after such length and intensely schooled willpower of still not turning my head he says,

“what are you talking about?”

and as I try to decide how to reply to that, his phone alerts a call

“Fan....” with a note of annoyance, he says under his breath and answers, “Willem, what’s up? .... you’re kidding.... what-the-fuck, where are they? .... I thought they were together.... they don’t have a spare? .... that’s about an hour from here—why didn’t they just meet and all come together? ....I know where it is, it’s easier if I go.... ok, then you should watch the monitors and make a pot of coffee—and I think you’re right, it’s time to surface,” then Jörn ends the call 

Only now do I dare look at him

He just looks at me in that unreadable, enigmatic way and says to me,

“do you feel like getting out of here for awhile? I think you’ve been stuck in here too long as it’s obviously made you lose your senses, let’s go.”

“Go where? What’s going on?” I ask

But then, he tugs me towards the hobbit door by my hand, not bothering to say anything except, 

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

So down the tree trunk winding stairs, and through where we entered by the catacomb tunnels back and then up to the dungeon he says to Willem as we pass the cage,

“I’m taking her too, I think the air quality in here has fucked with her head.”

And I notice the look of surprise on Willem’s face but he just says,

“be careful. Don’t do anything crazy—I should ask you what your plan is but I’m afraid to ask....” as we head to the bat stairwell that I now know leads out to the storefront with the defunct fuel pumps 

“Oh, you’ll need these!” Willem says and tosses a set of keys at Jörn

Outside.... (actually stepping outside again) ....and after facing my hunters ....I feel extremely exposed out in the open again .... even as —before too—it felt so weird to be outside ....after being stuck inside for so long .... 

and only realize that I actually cling to his fingers in a tight grip after he unlocks the passenger door of the pick-up truck —as he nearly has to pry my fingers from their grip on his, terrified of being out in the open after months in a cave

I notice now that the sun has begun to set in the sky 

“Jörn....” I hesitate, somewhat shaky, before climbing to get in and look up at him and as I do I can see in his eyes that he wants to say something 

but instead he shakes his head and stares into my eyes, and in a low tone says, 

“get in....” but then taking my hand again, presses it to his mouth, “you really are obtuse.”

And then I am distracted, and somewhat occupied with finding how thrilling it is to be on the open road to leave what has been my prison. I hardly notice the quiet. So busy watching the scenery and the novelty of freedom.

After several minutes of this it occurs to me to finally ask,

“where are we going?”

“Lake Placid,” he says casually 

“Why?”

“You know, Willem’s guys—our back up. I guess they’re coming from different locations. The others we expect before midnight but—the ones stuck in Lake Placid, apparently, they got two flat tires —and the van only has one spare— so that’s why.”

“Wow, really? Two? That’s bad luck—It’s the rough gravel out here.”

“It’s also Deiter—he’s known for being a reckless driver.”

“So now you have to fix their flat?” 

He kind of laughs and shrugs with a glance at me but then says nothing more about it and looks straight ahead at the road

Then after awhile suddenly says,

“look, I know you’re angry at me, and I really don’t blame you.... it was extremely bad judgement when I left you here....” and again falls back into silence 

After ....still more silence follows. 

Then, suddenly he says, 

“do you have any idea how much I have been regretting it?” then he looks at me and again turns to look back at the road, “you have no idea.... the whole time I was being held there —the whole time knowing that—you’re here ....with these five assassins —knowing while I’m all the way over there— it is only meters between you and them in the underground hiding .... fearing the worst things could happen— as I’m stuck over there and too far to .... I was losing my mind.... duva—if something happened .... and— it’s my fault .... I fucked up, I should know better —and —that was the reason I decided to break out of there and escape.... be the ‘vigilante’ as you called me —because I put you in danger and.... sorry, but—“ and here he pauses and scoffs, “I really have no idea what you were just going on about,” and shakes his head, “but what I was asking you back there was not what you jumped to conclusions about but....” and suddenly hits the breaks, slowing the car down, “oh, we have to stop here— they have an ATM machine,” and without warning, cutting short the conversation, suddenly turns off the road! (convenient excuse....) pulling up to some isolated, little general store boasting in big red letters that they have an ATM with a big sign on the building. 

He reaches inside the glove compartment to get a face mask and puts it on and hands me one,

“here, put it on —do you want anything?”

and as we walk in he says to me,

“don’t touch anything—which reminds me, I have your vaccines.”

As I know better than to ask questions, I only wonder over why he goes to get cash only to then use a card to buy random things 

When we get back in the truck I ask,

“did you really just go in there to get cash, and then go and buy water, an energy drink and chocolate —with your card?”

“The chocolate is for you. I know you prefer dark,” and he hands it to me with the water. “There’s hand sanitizer in the bag, use it.”

And only after a few more minutes of driving does he say,

“I used my card because I know it will draw the attention of the FBI to know where I am. They’ve been thinking I was somewhere more east since my escape.”

After a moment I ask, 

“why do you want them to know?” but then ....as I say it —I put it together ....then realize something else; I say,

“more east? —of where?? ....what?—like Moscow?”

Only he just looks straight ahead and doesn’t answer

Oh woe betide the redhead’s wrath/noir (jm muse)

“.... but you already knew they were after the code,” Jörn says

“I know, but.... I didn’t realize how close — I thought they— I didn’t realize how—near they ....believed—they think.... they are to .... Jörn....” I shudder, “so it’s just hit me— it seems to make it all so ....real now for me....” 

and yet as I say this....  it seems as if vaguely it connects with something ....so familiar....

but it seems as this is now so real.... I feel more conscious of something else.... 

this vague sense ....I can’t quite make sense of  —that seems to run so deep .... as if within my very soul, its very fiber....

And feel aware it seems to affect me even more so —now in this moment— 

as these things become apparent ....like being flung into the eye of a storm, as if shot from —out of time— by some catapult, a storm from long ago, 

and with it seems to bring and stir up something; some long forgotten ancient fear ....some terror 

of impending mortal doom

and I look again at the stack of white hides.... and can see them dripping red, covered in blood .... a dream? so tactile, it doesn’t seem —and yet feel.... far too real feel ....some deep pain 

....and horror of —intangible loss 

“....back before the midnight sun....” I blurt out and the words just spill off my tongue 

And then, startling me, Jörn’s phone alerts a message 

I watch him as he reads it —then reply before he puts his phone away,

But then he just turns to stare out the hide’s wall of window 

“Willem?”

and distracted, without turning from the view he looks out of, he says,

“ja —yes....”

and try to read his face with him silhouetted in profile

And suddenly, still without turning he strangely asks,

“why have you stayed?”

“Why have I stayed?” I ask repeating his question back confused, “what do you mean?” 

 “Why have you?” he asks and turning now to look at me, intently stares into my eyes, “why do you stay?”

“Why? .... what??? ....why-do-I stay?” stunned I repeat and shake my head, looking up at him —somewhat astounded, as I still don’t get his meaning

He stretches his arms out, holding out his hands as if to indicate, with a kind of wave with both hands, “I really don’t get it,” he says with a kind of incomprehensible calm and it is —something.... in his implication ....that suddenly ignites me like a fuse and —sets off 

And.... in a wild flash, I feel myself brewing to erupt, yet calmly enough I begin....

 “and where would you have me go? Hitch hike back to the city?” 

then winding up,  

“....are you serious....? How can you even ask me this? Where do you expect me to go?” I repeat this question to him again, still stunned by his question to me

 and stare at him aware of the alarms in my head now sounding off,

And don’t draw breath for awhile,

 “—look where you brought me! —not exactly the most convenient location, out here in the scenic yet isolated mountains! oh, the Adirondaks that stretch for miles, shall I ski across the country, how’s that?—you fucking just left me here for months—why do I stay!? You fucking ask me that? And go where-where?—exactly? How? How!!? Just tip toe past that friendly guerrilla in a ski mask down there and his jolly merry men swinging rifles in the barn house, should I make them lemonade and tea? They won’t notice me—I’ve been trapped in that demon dungeon for how many weeks?—thanks to you!—and never mind that there has been ten feet of snow or more out there since last October. How ‘bout I just call an Uber, then? Or ask our Amish neighbors for a ride in one of their wagons back to the penthouse in Manhattan? They’re so friendly! Gosh, why didn’t I think of that before?!” my pulse pounding wildly in my head by now as I rage on at him, “here’s a question for you, Jörn: why the fuck did you just leave me here and go sky-diving no doubt from helicopters around the world playing your spy games and behaving like some one man show deranged Scandi-noir vigilante Batman! How fucking dare you ask me that! —you shouldn’t have left me here!” and in my rage kick a pile of blankets across the floor at him stomping past him seething rage and mumbling, “mutha-fukka!” at no one in particular 

and by the silence that follows, I start to suspect I must have shocked him. Well, he’s never seen my rage

I turn now to look at him waiting for his response 

“I know....” he says rather quietly somewhat subdued and with trepidation seems to hesitate. 

He walks across the floor, first in the opposite direction from me and stops to think then turns to look at me thoughtfully,

“....I know you have been stuck here and it’s my fault—believe me, I know....”

“Why would you ask me that? How dare you! I swear to god, Jörn!—really?!—fuck you!—who needs you! ‘Why do you stay’” I repeat this still amazed, “Where would I go?—there’s a great question for you, Jörn— I’d love to hear your suggestions and —how—I’d get to anywhere from here—oh, yeah! —maybe I can charge up that little rover!— now that I know how it works! Wow! —what about that!?”

“If you just calm down a minute, long enough— I can explain that is not what I was asking you,” he finally says now 

I go over to the cot that faces towards the space heater and sit down,

“pray elaborate, as I am not sure how to interpret your original question to soften the blow of your meaning behind ‘why do you stay?’”

“That was not what I meant,” he lets out a heavy sigh and draws his fingers through his hair making it fall free of its tie, “that was not even where I meant this conversation to go....” he walks over to me and looks at me,

“if you can listen to me now....?”