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There was a pattern of soft, yellow flowers blossoming from a vine of tiny, oval leaves on the teacup. It was dainty. Delicate. Nomura had always liked dainty things. From afar, of course. They were not meant for her. Especially not on warm summer days when the sky was spotless of clouds and sunshine washed out any shadows that dared linger. Shadows that Nomura was meant to inhabit. Though her changeling nature may grant her the ability to stand under the sun’s gaze free of fear of turning to stone, it did not necessarily mean she was welcome there. She never had been before. She doubted that was about to change.
Nomura picked up the teacup, held it level to her eyes to better look at the flowers, and then sipped its considerably cooled tea. She didn’t really like tea. Its taste always seemed strange to her, flavorless yet bitter. But human customs dictated she purchase some refreshment or another if she were to be allowed to stay at the table and, despite her better judgment telling her otherwise, she wished to remain at the table. Though she would soon need another teacup if she wanted more time. It had already been thirty minutes, and there remained no sign of Barbara.
Then. A flurry of movement. Someone, a woman, approached Nomura’s table. Sat down. One of her hands hastily fixed a messy, falling-apart bun of red-brown hair. The other pulled a white doctor’s coat back up over her arm where it had slipped off. After those tasks were complete with practiced ease, she adjusted her glasses on her nose.
“Sorry I’m late. There was an accident and, well, everyone’s fine now, but they needed me.” Barbara’s gaze searched Nomura’s face for some kind of response. One which the changeling refused to give.
“So.” Barbara’s expression turned serious. “We’re going to talk.”
“Yes.” Nomura’s hands wrapped around her teacup. Its cool surface offered little reassurance. The concept of an apology she understood. But. She’d never done one before. It was not the way of things in the Janus Order. And, personally, she’d never cared for the idea. She did what she had to. Anyone who got in her way, got what they deserved.
But now.
She didn’t need to do this. She was an ally of the Trollhunter regardless of what happened over the course of this conversation. She could walk away. It would be fine. Her status would remain unchanged. Yet.
Nomura studied Barbara, who watched her back with what Nomura could only describe as a grave expression. Yet, if she walked away, she had a feeling she’d be walking away from something. Something she hadn’t had in a long time. Not that she had too clear a grasp on what it was.
The moment where Little Gynt hugged his friends after escaping the Darklands came to mind.
So, Nomura took a sip of tea. Pursed her lips. Spoke. “I know, in the past, my actions toward you and litt-your son. Jim. Were not well intended. That is regretful.”
Barbara raised an eyebrow. Her expectation clear. She wanted Nomura to go on.
Nomura frowned. She’d just done the apology, hadn’t she? That was the purpose of their meeting. And it was done. What else to say was there?
“I want to hear you say it.” Barbara folded her hands together on the table. She glanced at a menu placed their earlier by a waiter, but didn’t pick it up.
“Say what?” Nomura’s hands tensed around her teacup.
“Say what you you did to me. Jim explained, but I want. To hear. You. Say. It.” Barbara sat back in her seat, and crossed her arms. Glared. “To my face.” She paused. “That is. If you’re capable of that.”
Nomura scowled. Cracks rushed across the teacup’s surface. “I have changed my alliance. Joined your son’s team. My past actions may not be to your liking. But enough has passed that they should not matter. I have betrayed my own kind to be on your side.”
Barbara stared at her. “Really? Just.” She put a hand to her forehead. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. “So I’m just supposed to forget you drugged me and tried to kill Jim? Right.” She snorted. “Or the fact you later put him in the hospital?” Her voice rose with every new word. “As long as it’s all in the past, I guess it doesn’t matter. Because nothing in the past ever matters. Isn’t that nice?” Barbara slammed her hands down on the table. Shoved herself up. “Oh wait. That only works if you can remember the past. Which I can’t. Because someone drugged me and I have no memory of that night ever happening!”
Heads turned at Barbara’s shouting. Nearby people whispered. Nomura tensed. Drawing attention was not good. Not good at all. “Barbara-”
“And that. That is the best apology you can do.” Barbara cut Nomura off. She shook her head. “I should have known. And never agreed to this. But Jim asked me to give you a chance and I’m trying to understand so here I am.” Her arms slapped against her sides. “Maybe it’s on me that I was expecting a little more than that pathetic-”
“Pathetic?” The teacup shattered in Nomura’s grip. She wiped the broken pieces aside. They clattered to the pavement. Nomura rose to match Barbara’s height. She flashed her eyes bright green. Then smirked at Barbara’s shock. Good. The doctor needed a reminder on what she truly was. “You dare call me pathetic.” She snarled.
“I-”
“I am far more than your insufferable, insignificant human brain can comprehend. I was smashing in skulls before your parents birthed you. My choices were necessary. You might not be able to understand that, but.” Nomura resisted the urge to transform. To truly scare Barbara. To make the doctor scream at her true form. “I’d hardly expect as much from the mother who cannot tell that her child has gone. Into the Darklands. Alone. For a fortnight.” She took a breath. Her lips curled into a dark smile. “But then, that mother would have to notice her child in the first place. And you so obviously-”
“I don’t have to take this.” Barbara snapped. “No. I’m not going to take this.” She turned on her heel. Stormed away.
Nomura watched Barbara go. Why should she go after her? She’d only stated fact. It was no concern of hers that Barbara couldn’t see the truth about herself.
Barbara started across the street. The red hand of the “Don’t Walk” signal was lit. Not that Nomura cared about human traffic laws, but Barbara, who probably did, had ignored the signal. Surely, though.
Surely Barbara had seen the truck?
It was massive. Probably one of the biggest in existence. How could she not-
Nomura transformed mid-stride. Her hooves skidded against the pavement. Sparks flew in the air at the contact. Nomura braced herself. Jumped. She slammed into Barbara. Hard.
The doctor’s glasses went flying. Their lenses shattered against the pavement. The frames smashed by the oncoming truck. The momentum of their collision carried Nomura and Barbara to the safety of the other side of the street. They rolled off the sidewalk and down a grassy hill. The truck driver honked and yelled some profanity at them, but kept going.
Nomura transformed back to human form. Hopefully no one had seen. Her troll form was just more agile. And if she hadn’t acted. If she hadn’t acted. Her alliance with the Trollhunter would be over. He would not take kindly to his mother’s death. Nomura looked down at the woman under her. Yes, she was still breathing. Yes, she was uninjured. She was safe.
“Get off me.” Barbara snapped.
Nomura was more than happy to oblige that request. She looked back up at the sidewalk, but no people had gathered. She’d gotten lucky. It didn’t seem as though anyone was there who could’ve recorded her quick transformation with a phone.
Barbara sat up. She ran her hands through the grass near them. “My glasses?” She asked Nomura when she couldn’t find them.
“Broken.” Nomura stood up and brushed herself off. “They were run over by the truck.”
“Of course they were,” Barbara muttered, but remained on the ground.
Nomura raised an eyebrow at her. “You are fortunate you were not.”
“I’m so fucking tired of this.” Barbara sighed, ignoring Nomura’s tone and her expectant look. “So fucking tired.” She took a deep breath. “You want me to what? To just forget? No. I…I’ve forgotten so much already. I…I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I know I’ve messed up myself. I know I’m not the best mother. But if…if you can’t understand that you hurt me and that it still hurts.” Barbara shuddered. “I’m sorry but I can’t help you. So, please. Just go away.” She hid her face in her hands.
Nomura didn’t leave. She considered it. But Barbara needed her glasses to see. Without the ability to see, she couldn’t know where she was going. It was likely, if Barbara had almost gotten hit by a truck while she could still see, then something worse could happen to her while she couldn’t. And it would be on Nomura’s watch.
So,Nomura sat down on the ground next to Barbara. She didn’t say anything or reach out to her. She sat and observed the doctor crying. Tears never did anything good, that Nomura knew. She wanted Barbara to stop. It made it uncomfortable to be there. But she couldn’t just leave without ensuring Barbara’s safety.
She needed to do something. To break up the sound of sobbing. To change the weird feeling in her gut. Nomura took a breath. Opened her mouth.
“Jim spoke of you. In the Darklands. When we were both held prisoner.” were the words that came out. Good, Nomura thought. Maybe reassurance about her son would sooth Barbara.
It worked. Barbara turned her head up to look at her. That, at least, was an improvement.
“He missed you.” Nomura hastily decided not to add that the first time Jim had spoke of his mother to her was after a particularly bad match in the arena. They’d thrown him back, injured and bloody, into his cell. He hadn’t cried, at least not loud enough that she could hear a cell over. But he’d whimpered. Admitted he longed for a hug from his mother. That he missed her. The way her arms wrapped around him. The way she’d kiss the top of his head. She did try her best to be his mom. And he’d be gone and she’d never know why. Just like his dad.
“He was sorry. He didn’t know his friends had covered for his disappearance. He thought he had left you without explanation.” Nomura considered her next words. “He thought he’d hurt you. He…he was in pain because of it.” That, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Barbara looked like she’d go back to the crying. Nomura’s mind scrambled for something else. Something that would prevent the tears.
But then, she hadn’t offered Jim compassion or reassurance either. There was little point in it, she’d thought. The sooner he accepted that dying in the Darklands was his miserable fate, the same as hers, the better.
It hadn’t been, though. His friends had come for him. He’d refused to leave her behind. Even after everything she’d done. Even after she had tried to break his will in that final fight. She had been willing to sacrifice him for her own survival. He had jeopardized his escape for hers.
“He is strong.” Nomura continued. “Brave. He showed me kindness. When he had no obligation to. For that, I am grateful. I would not be alive without your son.”
Barbara wiped her eyes. Was clearly listening, even if she kept her gaze on a blade of grass she rubbed between two fingers.
“I…I am sorry that I hurt Jim.” And Nomura meant it. Over the course of their imprisonment together, she had grown to like Little Gynt. When she had seen it was him she was to fight in the arena, it. She hadn’t felt good about it. Nomura studied Barbara. “And…and I am sorry that I’ve caused you pain as well.” Nomura paused. That had actually felt nice to say. It was a light feeling in her gut. Strange, but also relieving. There had been a weight. One she’d pointedly ignored. And now it was lessened.
Nomura continued, “Nothing I did was meant to be personal to you. I had my duties and my orders. To not carry them out...” meant facing Bular and Nomura was ever the survivalist first. “But I can see they were.” She took a breath, but kept going, “As changelings, we are taught to forget remorse. The very act of our being in this world steals a position from someone else. If we think about what we have done, we will not be as useful. If we are not useful, we are unnecessary. And then we are dead. It is best not to think of what we have done in the past.”
Nomura found herself reaching out to Barbara. She stopped her hand halfway between them. Both their gazes fell on it. Nomura pulled back. Her heart hammered. She wasn’t scared. She didn’t get scared. She was Nomura. But. But she was not completely in control of the moment. And that. That was something.
She didn’t like it. At all.
There was silence. Then, Barbara spoke, “Thank you, I really appreciate that, Nomura.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier. You’re…you are trying. That’s more than can be said about some others. Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m angry, but I shouldn’t. Taking it out on you when you’re making an effort isn’t right. I should have at least tried to give you a chance instead of expecting the worst right off the bat. I’m sorry.”
Nomura didn’t know what to make of that. No one had ever apologized to her before. For anything. Again, it was a strange feeling. But nice? She could feel a headache coming on.
Then Barbara’s hand was on her own. That was a thing. That happened. Was still happening. Nomura was fixated on that concept. Usually physical contact meant a battle. Physically fighting. This was not a battle, but it was contact. Good contact? The idea puzzled her.
“Maybe we can try the tea thing again?” Barbara asked.
“I. I would like that.” Nomura answered. She stood. Helped Barbara up. Noticed how the doctor squinted and stumbled. “Your glasses are gone. You need to see. You are putting yourself at risk otherwise.”
“I have a spare pair in my car.” Barbara smiled. “Just in case something happens. Like, you know, almost getting hit by a truck.” She paused. “It would be best, I think, if we don’t mention that part to Jim.”
“Agreed.”