12 - Sins of the Mother

Inner City

Uren Hoxha Juric, Crecia's former third prince, currently exiled and frequenting the Institute.

Oreo Sardar, Crecia's ambassador, and Uren's current guardian.

Time since their arrival in the country: a month. Or, more precisely, a month of crashing parties and using money to create connections which, Seijuro assumes, they hope to use in their efforts to swing the public in their favor.

Were the former prince to win enough competitions and climb the ranks, their plan might even have a chance at succeeding. Commercials and sponsorships would make him famous, and having fans means they'll listen to what he has to say.

Unfortunately, it'd cost money to break the connections they've already created, and possibly, harm her own goodwill with said investors. And attempting to prevent Uren from winning competitions simply isn't reliable without resorting to forms of corruption her father spent his youth fighting against.

However, not all forms of fame would help the boy achieve his goal. Seijuro is willing to bet he doesn't, or will in the near future, have the type of power necessary to escape the city's endless vortex of scandals.

As she raises her head, ready to follow with her plan, Seijuro's eyes immediately meet with Kuro's through the rearview mirror, who has been throwing her worried glances since she told him about their next destination.

Ignoring him, Seijuro turns to watch the view outside and sends the System a command.

'…S-seijuro? Is t-that really you?'

'Yes, Beatrice, it's me. Is now a bad time?'

'…Oh. You have a name for me, don't you?'

Have they ever talked for any other reason?

'Indeed, I do.'

'No, it's not, but… I don't know. I agreed to do this for you because I thought we were friends.'

Seijuro nearly rolls her eyes.

'Didn't we talk this morning? And during lunch? Pray tell, what has led you to believe our friendship has been dissolved since?'

'You… I waited for you. After school, you know, like I always do.'

'I see. We must have missed each other.'

'…But it's Monday. You always take the leftmost path on Monday…'

Crazy girl.

'Should I disconnect?'

'NO!'

Seijuro cringes.

'I-I-I'm sorry. T-that came out wrong…'

Shit. Her day has been too long for this.

'Beatrice, I'm sure we're both tired. Why don't we start again?'

'Okay, y-you're right. Thanks. I'll… do it for you.'

'…Good. His name is Uren. Uren Hoxha Juric, transfer student, no connections to speak of. Think you can handle it?'

'Sounds easy. What did he do?'

Seijuro sighs. No coming back now.

'Harassment.'

'Okay.'

'Thank you.'

'Seijuro?'

'Yes, Beatrice?'

'D-do you… Do you l-love me?'

Seijuro freezes, her breath caught in her throat.

'A-actually, never mind! I don't know what I was thinking! See you tomorrow, yeah?'

'Connection terminated by user Beatrice Swain.'

"…By everything sacred."

"Not exactly as planned?"

"No, it's just… Forget it." Seijuro sighs. "Are we…?"

Instead of speaking, Kuro points his gloved hand at the car's front window, indicating the well-illuminated white monster looming over the horizon, untouched by the usual liveness of the city surrounding it.

This time, Seijuro forces herself to continue breathing normally, even as she closes her eyes and rests her temple against the window.

It's just a hospital.

One step at a time. One breath at a time.

"I'm coming with you."

"Funny, I remember being the one who gives the orders around here."

"Seijuro."

"…Please."

Though Seijuro notices the car stopping, she doesn't move out immediately.

In fact, she can't bring herself to open her eyes and move.

"Seijuro."

"I'm fine, just give me a minute."

She's being ridiculous. She can't hide forever. Reality won't change just because she refuses to acknowledge it.

"You're not fine. You're exhausted. You don't have to do this right now."

"I should've done it a long time ago. I have no right to complain."

"You're punishing yourself."

Seijuro opens her eyes and exits the car, shuddering under a cold breeze as she sweeps her gaze across the hospital's empty parking lot.

After a moment, she heads for the hospital's double doors, high heels clapping against the hard pavement as she hears Kuro's much slower movements at her back, companied by a long sigh of frustration.

"I'll be here if you need me!"

The doors open by themselves, revealing an empty white lobby through which Seijuro wastes no time in crossing.

Tap, tap, tap…

Seijuro realizes she has never worn high heels to a visit before. And it is clear she should never again, given the way her steps seem to bounce from every wall and surface.

Still, despite the noise, a young receptionist, occupying a table that seems intended for many more, maintains his focus firmly on the holographic book before him.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but visiting hours end at six. No exceptions."

"I was hoping you'd make an exception for me anyway."

Unhurriedly, he makes a show of swiping his finger, marking his page, then closing the book (which disappears almost immediately) before looking up.

Then, he blinks, double-taking, and sighs. "Look, I'm sure you're used to getting your way, but there're rules I'm supposed to follow-"

"You do not recognize me?" Seijuro cuts, incredulous.

He squints. "…No, not really. I'm sorry. Are you a celebrity? A Ranker? Look, people see my face, and they assume I'm glued to a Community page all day, but just because I'm young doesn't mean I've got the time to waste on stupid shi… things which don't concern my future."

Seijuro almost laughs. Almost. "You didn't look particularly occupied two seconds ago."

Irritation flashes through his eyes. "That? A medicine book. Do you think I fancy spending the rest of my life dealing with people like you?"

Seijuro blinks. Something underneath her skin is heating, and the sensation of nails digging against her palm is about the only thing which stops her vision from turning red.

Hypocrite. How do you expect anyone to follow the rules when the example they have is you?

"…I see. In that case, I apologize for my rude assumptions. My visit tonight was unplanned, and I plan on adhering to the hospital's rules in the future. Still, I wish to see my mother tonight."

"…Morning visiting hours begin at eight. Be here before ten, and one of my colleagues will be glad to allow you entry. Afternoon visiting hours begin at four. Be here before six, and I'll let you in. Is there some part of that which you didn't understand?"

His gaze is tired, as though he expects her to throw herself on the ground and start screaming at any second.

Maybe she should. Wouldn't that be something? Elysium's first princess, throwing a tantrum because she wasn't allowed in her own hospital.

Involuntarily face-palming over the thought, Seijuro laughs bleakly.

"…I own the fucking building, you stupid idiot."

"What was that?"

Seijuro lowers her hand, though her joyless smile remains for a moment still. "I now realize I could've informed you my name from the beginning and avoided this whole farce."

Perhaps Kuro is right. She is punishing herself.

The man glances at her with uncertainty. "Listen… Unless you're Seijuro Aston herself, I doubt…"

The realization, the shock, and, lastly, his paling face, might have been comic otherwise. For his credit, he doesn't immediately rise and bows upon his realization, though perhaps he's simply too frozen up, his mouth moving a couple of times as if he's about to say something only to close again.

With a mental sigh, Seijuro glances toward the man's identification card.

"Pleasured to meet you, Robert. May I enter to see my mother now?"

"…Am I in trouble?"

"For doing your job? I'd never be so petty."

After a second of facing her stare as if deciding to believe her or not, Robert silently points toward what Seijuro knows are the elevators for the upper floors.

Seijuro performs a light curtsy. "Thank you. Don't worry about the permissions, I already have them."

This time, Robert is quick to rise from his seat and bow. "H-have a good night, Your Highness."

Seijuro begins to walk away, but stops to look back at him, freezing Robert as he is about to sit again with a look of relief on his face. "Medicine, wasn't it? Good luck."

"Luck has nothing-"

Stopping himself midsentence, Robert appears as though he wishes to catch his words midair and swallow them back.

Seijuro ends up smiling at him. "Don't worry, you're correct. My mistake."

She doesn't wait to see if and how he'll react to that, though she does catch his whisper while walking away, "…I knew I recognized her from somewhere. About the only person other than the fucking king who could ruin your life in a single sentence. Good going, Robert."

One of the elevators' doors opens soundlessly under her mental command, and Seijuro doesn't waste time before going in. On the way up, her thoughts are surprisingly clear. She understands her emotions, the cause of them, and how to avoid being consumed by them.

She immediately walks outside once the elevator stops.

A first step, a second, and then a third.

A few white-dressed, masked nurses stare as she walks by, but Seijuro avoids meeting their eyes. She also forces herself to not look into any of the windows around, afraid of what she might find behind them.

In the end, the door at which she stops is no different than any of the others down the corridor.

Not special in any way.

A mental command is all Seijuro needs for it to move, and allow passage, but the princess finds that she is incapable of mustering the courage to think.

And although she stands very still, her mind is filled.

By happy memories.

Sad memories.

Painful memories.

Despair.

And the worse of them all, the vision of what stands behind the door.

"Excuse me… Miss Aston?"

It takes all of Seijuro's will to move, to turn her head, with great effort, toward the middle-aged nurse standing next to her.

"Is there a problem?"

Under Seijuro's gaze, the woman's eyes widen, and she is quick to avert her stare as she curtsies. "Your Highness! No problem at all! I assumed you might wish to know the current prognosis…"

"Current? Were there any changes?"

"N-no, I'm afraid…"

"So, you have nothing to say?"

Distinctively, Seijuro notices the trembling of the woman's eyes, the pause in her breathing. Absently, she notices the rushing of blood against her ears, the loud beating of her heart.

So fragile.

Like a toy she could break.

But the moment passes, and Seijuro realizes her anger isn't directed at the woman in front of her. She closes her eyes.

"I apologize for visiting out of the predetermined time. I won't stay long, so please don't concern yourself with me. I'm sure you have much to do."

"Y-yes!"

Seijuro catches a curtsy with the corner of her eye, though she uses a lock of hair out of place as an excuse to avoid looking at the scared nurse again.

The sound of the woman's footsteps quickly moving away reminds Seijuro of the nurse's terrified look, and how close she seems to stand from lashing out recently. It is certainly concerning, to say the least.

It's obvious she needs somebody to talk to.

Once more, Seijuro's gaze falls over the door blocking her way.

What would she have said?

"She deserved…" Seijuro murmurs through the lump in her throat, "She deserves better than a coward daughter. Open."

The automatic door is soundless, highlighting Seijuro's rasped breathing as her gaze quickly moves from the body, half submerged in liquid, to the several machines connected to it.

Impossible. A lie. It has to be.

A scream rises through, propelling Seijuro to simply fall to her keens and shout as loudly as possible… Though, at last, the princess slowly steps inside, allowing the door to slide close at her back.

Seijuro swallows. Standing in silence, she doesn't quite know how to react; how to make it better somehow, even if for a moment.

Her last visit was more than a year ago, which she spent crying in a corner, incapable of staring at her mother's naked body.

It was so ugly her father forbade her from coming again.

The silence feels awkward.

Should she sit?

Seijuro forces her legs to carry her toward the advanced bed of nanomachines, careful to not allow her gaze to stray too far from her mother's face. Still, she notices the slightly murky water, and how it seems to move in response to her presence, never completely still.

"G-good night, Mother…"

The princess's words carry through the room, met only with silence. She is careful not to touch the water while caressing her mother's skin, her touch as light as she can manage.

"Things have been good. School is the same as ever…"

Seijuro's tears are hot against her cheeks, though she didn't notice the exact moment they started falling.

She had so many things to say.

Why is that they all escape her mind now?

***

Outer City, Gold District

Sara stares at her bedroom ceiling blankly. As she lies on her bed, the memories of today, of her first date, storm her mind in a mixture of embarrassment and regret.

Suddenly blushing, she turns and presses her head against her pillow, then screams as loudly as possible.

They go to the same school, what was she thinking!?

The Institute is big, but not big enough for two people to avoid themselves forever. How will she look at his face next time they have class together!?

Sara swings her legs furiously like a kid throwing a tantrum.

This is so ridiculous! To begin with, he ambushed her at the school's gate! Who does that?!

Tired of fighting against her innocent bed, Sara turns over and sighs, though the sudden teary feeling in her chest is much worse than the frustration she was feeling prior.

She's a mess. A more-than-usual mess, and that's not a good thing.

'May I suggest a good night's sleep? Previous data points suggest a noticeable improvement in emotional stability-'

"May I suggest that you go fuck yourself?"

'Command not registered. May I ask you to be more specific, Miss Palmer?'

"…I hate you."

Sara presses her hands against her eyes in frustration… Then sighs. Brooding about her past mistakes isn't going to fix them.

Rising, she kneels beside her bed and reaches underneath it, grabbing for a small metal box which she pulls with care.

It is hard for Sara to decipher all the emotions the box evokes. She didn't find it safe to leave any information on her computer in case something was able to track her back to it, so she created this herself, after her "trip", five years ago.

She doesn't need to put in the combination in order to know the box's contents. Perhaps more important, however, is what she knows she won't find in there; names, addresses, even a hint of where she came from or who her biological parents may be.

No, all she managed to accomplish is an apparently disconnected series of numbers written on notes of different sizes and ages, a collection of dozens of failed hacking attempts throughout the years; a record of how utterly she has failed.

And for what? In the end, not only did her obsession with trying to find her origins cost Sara her friends and social life, but her place on the team, the only passion she ever allowed herself to have.

By habit, Sara glances toward her closed door; as she expected, Isobel was furious when she arrived, though she has probably gone to sleep by now.

Sara opens the box as she sighs, carefully writing the number she found this morning (stole, same thing), on one of the many blank pieces of paper inside.

"8459. Does it mean something to you?"

'Possible matches include: An employee's identification tag for a number of Elysium companies; A prisoner's identification number; A-'

"Wait. What was that about a prisoner?!"

Suddenly alert, Sara quickly rises, nearly spreading the box's contents throughout her entire messy floor.

"Fuck!"

'Different sites around the country tend to parry a prisoner's name to a number in order to facilitate the tracking of their-'

"Get to the fucking point! How many names are we talking about?! How many 8459 are there?!"

'Error: Information requested outside of currently established permissions for: User, Citizen, Student, Sara Palmer.'

"Fuck! Can you at least tell me if there are more than one?!"

'Technically… I'm not supposed to.'

"What sort of fucking bullshit answer even is that?!"

Sara abruptly realizes she's pacing around her room, screaming at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night, and stops, biting her nail.

Not like it's the first time. They're bound to be used to it by now.

"Look, do you understand what this means?!" Sara whispers, now consciously maintaining her voice to a minimum. "If we had a name… Or even a bunch of them!"

'I must remind Miss Palmer of the fact we have never successfully extracted a name before.'

"But… We have a lead now, right?"

Sara sits back against her bed, her heart sinking as her gaze roams over the papers spread across her room.

It changes nothing. She's closer than ever before… And it changes nothing.

No. She won't jeopardize her future further. Not for a number that could mean anything. It's over… Forever. She'll get her place back in the team, graduate, and live her life.

That's it. Isobel deserves better than this. Their friends deserved better than what she gave them. And Uren… Gods, she hopes Uren is willing to give her another chance.

'May I suggest a good night's sleep?'

Sara laughs. "Is that your attempt at a joke? You know what… Sleeping doesn't sound like a terrible idea. Because the good thing about today? It's finally fucking over."