And I Have To Say Goodbye

May 28, 2017:

Rose wakes up and takes the only decision she could take.

Mombasa, Kenya

Unremarkable hotel room

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Deathstroke

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

And it looked like Rose slept during the conversation. That makes Nate suspect something was amiss, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with her. No drugs or anything. Maybe Slade used some ninja trick to keep Rose sleeping, or maybe the girl was just that exhausted.
Not terribly important, because as soon as he feels she wakes up, he tells her: “Rose, your dad was here,” and when she is awake enough he shares his memory of the conversation. “It was all training for him,” there is a touch of anger there at Slade’s mercilessness with his own daughter. Nate set back Rose’s training years? The hell. The Danger Room is so much better training than that nightmare.


Nate could check all he wanted. Rose was asleep for part, that he filled in with the sudden impact of the memory he sent her way.
The rest? She was awake, but she is good at leveling out her heart rate, her breathing shallow, her eye(s) stilled while all that ran was her mind behind the built-up wall of static. A couple hours…
Rose remained laying there, absorbing it all, breathing it in shallowly, fully, but when she rises it is a slow lift that pushes her towards the blade stabbed into the arm of the couch.
Her hand touches fingers to the pommel, wrapping around it as it is built like a short, serrated, bastard-sword for her size.
"I know." All she says for the moment as the couch is now severely town and bits of stuffing from the arm spill out like innards.
"So, he does still care." Wilson's are not good at saying it, but actions speak louder…
Bare foot hoks into the arm of the duffel, knowing precisely where it all was placed, drawing it between her planted feet and close.
Now she looks up towards Nate and presses her palm over her face in a slow drag.


“I think so, if in a very strange way,” mutter Nate. He was almost petting Rose seated here, “he left some weapons for you,” well, obviously. It was in the memory. But Nate hovers between anger at the callous treatment, with confusion at the older killer devotion to make Rose tougher (as if there was any girl tougher in the whole world!) and the constant worry about Rose mental state. He has been trying to sort out her memories, pointing the source of each scar he remembers, reminding her about her friendship with Illyana, and the good times, the good battles, and the bad times.
When Rose presses her palm against her face, Nate comes closer, reaching with his hand to her hip. “You want his approval more than anything, hmm? He is your father, but is he someone you can be proud? Being a great warrior does not make a man a good man.”


Memories can be parsed, but only held apart if mentally applied.
Rose has not been applying, she is just living, breathing, enjoying for once in…
The past couple years have been hell on her before the added Ravager that was but a lingering essence on her arrival here - now melding, finding home…
…Home.
"I heard." Rose states, but she already is holding the black blade of promethium, turning it in her hands, the serrated edges dimpling the meat below thumb while fingers seek to curl over the extremely honed edge, splitting flesh easily like heated to butter. No blood though… Not yet.
"It has always been the way." If anything? THAT… Rose is sure of. A Wilson's love is poison, something you have to build immunity to, or die. Strength/Weakness.
The bag is unzipped, peered within, then sealed after a long stare. Nate's approach is met with a sudden tension, one that curls her fist into the military grade fabric and zipper end. "I have always wanted to be like him, Nate. I stray with fault of my own… vices. You know this. I am always me, but forever in his shadow, and I want to be a shadow beside him… Set apart. Accepted."
Rose turns the blade and now blood wells up from the minute slices along palm and fingertips' bend. "I am a good enough warrior, and maybe a decent woman, but I will be great because nothing will be able to stop me…"
Those final words deemed to drop into an abyss that could stare back and conform - unwavering now.
"Nate…. He will kill us."
"I will kill us."
"I will never deny anything, but I have to say goodbye."


"I will die for you," replies Nate. "But I would live with you the rest of my life, short as it might be." He closes his eyes and sighs, paling visibly at her words. "I am not your weakness, Rose. And you are not mine. I draw strength from my feelings, and you are so passionate… you never feared anything."
And neither did Nate. Maybe that was the problem.
"But I will not restrain you either. If you wish, go there, fully knowing what you are doing. I have never stopped you when you went to one of your mercenary contracts. I have no right. I went for you this time because you felt trapped, because you had been -caged-."
And he hates caged. But nowhere as much as Rose hates it.
"Now you know what can happen, Rose. You can be caged again. But that is not why I fear to leave you. What I fear is this job, this 'training' your father wants you to take, will destroy all I love in you."
He steps back, inviting her to leave. "You can get in touch with me when you are not doing… whatever you will do. We can talk, or just go have fun, and I won't ask questions. If you don't call I won't be looking for you. I love you, farewell."

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