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Jesse still can’t believe she’s doing so well. The Bureau’s been fine (though Dylan still isn’t awake), there hasn’t been any Hiss crawling out of the Foundation, and even Northmoor seems stable.
For now, she’s living in Trench’s old apartment. Emily was right, it’s not like he cares. The Hotline has been silent for some time now. The apartment still feels like it isn’t hers. She feels that way about a lot of things. The Service Weapon still feels like a stranger that she’ll have to get to know, the Director’s office still full of the lingering ghosts of the Old Guard. Emily told her once that she feels the same about the Board Room and Darling’s offices. She still can’t get the smell of whiskey out of the air, in there.
She much prefers staying at Emily’s apartment. It feels much more like a home, rather than a prison. The rugs, the smell of old books, the many potted plants, the coffee mugs that aren’t marked with the FBC seal. The little details make the small apartment warm and lived-in, a place welcoming to visitors.
She’s nervous, today. She and Emily are going to visit Emily’s parents. Jesse isn’t sure how to interact with them. She’s never had a serious girlfriend, her longest relationship was a two-week fling with a girl in Seattle. Then she was back on the road and never saw that girl again. Forgotten her name, her face, her voice. A lifetime ago.
“Polaris? Any advice for me?” Jesse asks her faithful companion. Polaris, as always, is there for her no matter what.
Polaris spins a bit faster, once again leaving Jesse to decipher the meaning. She decides that Polaris wants her to be nice to Emily’s parents. That’s easy enough, she thinks.
Jesse fastens the buttons of her Director’s suit and leaves her apartment. She doesn’t own any formal clothing besides the suit, but she takes care to keep it nice. She took extra care to aggressively dispose of any clothing that Trench left behind. There’s already enough traces of him in this apartment. No need to leave more.
It wasn’t even anything of his that was the weirdest thing she found when she first moved in. No, that honor would go to one of Darling’s iconic bowties she found under the bed. She doesn’t dwell on what it might have been doing in such a distinctly un-Darling type of place.
She bought a car last week, the day after she got her driver’s license. It’s nothing special, just to get from Point A to Point B. Still, she’s proud of it. Not having to walk or have someone else shuttle her around is a bonus.
After a quick drive, she’s at Emily’s apartment and waiting at her door. Emily opens the door, and Jesse steps in. She’s wearing a semi-formal outfit, a yellow pantsuit with white sandals. Nevermind the fact that it’s November and the air holds promise of snow, Emily bought this in August and she plans on wearing it.
Seeing as there’s still a few hours before they have to leave, the pair sit down on Emily’s couch. It’s covered in throw pillows, of all colors and patterns. Her whole apartment has an air of “home” that Jesse hasn’t felt in a very long time. Even Ordinary, desolate and unchanged as it is, no longer feels like any sort of home, to Jesse. That changed a long, long time ago.
Her apartment still looks shocking. Jesse never thought it’d look like this, with an abundance of souvenirs and decorations on the shelves, and a smell other than cleaning supplies. That it’d be more… modern. Less like a home and more like an extension of her work personality— professional.
She’s pleasantly surprised by that.
“I still can’t believe we missed Halloween.” Emily says, taking a piece of candy from a bowl on the coffee table. She had filled it with candy on October 29th, that fateful day, hoping to invite a few of her work friends over on Halloween for games and hot cider. That never happened, though. Most of her work friends didn’t make it into the shelter in time before they had to close the door.
“Cheer up, we have Thanksgiving to be worried about. Hopefully Dylan will be awake by then. If Ahti’s right, he’s sure taking a long vacation.” Jesse replies.
It’s been a long time since she and Ahti talked in that office, back when the Hiss was still roaming around. The moonshine was good, though. She wonders if he has any more laying around.
She takes a sip of coffee, Emily having brought out two mugs full of it a few minutes ago. The apartment is still slightly cold. The perfect excuse to sit closer to Emily, Jesse thinks.
A million thoughts race through her head. What would she say to Dylan when he wakes up? What are Emily’s parents like? What gemstone would she propose to Emily with if she ever married her, seeing as the blue ones that grow everywhere in the Foundation proved to be unusable (she went back down and tried to cut one, and failed). Why does this apartment smell like cinnamon? Is it a candle or is Emily baking?
Hours pass, with the two chatting idly. Jesse figured out where the smell was coming from, a small candle on an end table nearby. It’s still burning, though they’ll have to put it out before they leave.
Emily checks her watch, and stands up.
“Let’s get going. And maybe we’ll take your car, for a change.” she says, grabbing her purse.
Jesse agrees. Holding hands, they walk to her car, and sit down. Polaris agrees to let Emily navigate, for once, quieting down.
They’re fortunate enough to not be caught in traffic for long. The ride is mostly silent, save for the radio, which distracts Polaris for long enough to not totally take Jesse’s attention away from the road. Her curiosity towards the human world doesn’t exactly mix well with her host trying not to crash into jaywalking pedestrians.
Any words between the Director and the Head of Research can be exchanged with just a hand on top of a hand. It’s wordless, peaceful.
They arrive at the new apartment building. It seems pretentious to her, with its perfectly manicured bushes and pristine walls. It’s tall and imposing, but not in the way the Oldest House is. The House promises to physically harm. This apartment building promises, if she fails this meeting, to break her down to her very essence, everything that was ever wrong with her.
Jesse takes a deep breath and knocks on the door that belongs to Emily’s parents. Again, it’s cold and white, the apartment number engraved so neatly. It opens, revealing a middle-aged couple.
“Is this your date?” the woman asks. She’s wearing white, the only touch of color being her half-gray blonde hair.
“Mom, Dad, meet Jesse. We’ve been dating for a few weeks now and I thought it was time to introduce you.” Emily replies.
The man sticks out his hand for Jesse to shake. She takes it, hoping that she doesn’t screw up in some way. They’re invited inside, and Jesse is assaulted by the smell of bleach.
Every surface in the apartment is white or light gray. There’s no color except for a few photos on the wall (though she can tell that they too were carefully staged to fit in with the aesthetic), and one lonely succulent on the kitchen counter. Everything seems too perfect , and Jesse can’t stand it.
“Polaris? Are you there?” she thinks.
The resonance sparkles a bit, trying to shrink back from the clinical cleanliness.
“I don’t like this. Reminds me of the ward.” Jesse replies.
Polaris responds with her familiar grow brighter , and Jesse laughs internally.
“By grow brighter I did not mean this. A bit too bright if you ask me.” Jesse thinks.
Jesse’s pulled out of her thought-conversation by a question.
“So, how did you meet my daughter?” Emily’s father asks.
“Well, we met on the job. I just started working as the new Director and she helped me through all the bureaucracy.” Jesse replies, keeping her answer intentionally vague.
“And we heard somebody got a promotion. I told you those AP classes would pay off. You’ve made us proud.” Emily’s mother says.
Jesse looks at Emily. The look on her face tells her that her parents didn’t say “I’m proud of you” much. Polaris agrees with the sentiment.
Emily doesn’t seem all too comfortable, at least, not to Jesse. Jesse tries to find a spot that isn’t so horribly devoid of life or love. She chooses the spot next to the small potted plant.
“Why weren’t you Director, Emily? I raised you to take every opportunity and you just let someone else take it?” her father says, his voice rising a bit.
“And what was up with the disappearing for two weeks? We had a dinner party planned with our friends and they expected you to be there.” her mother adds.
Polaris flares up, at the notion that someone could just become Director. People have suffered because of the fact that, no matter how qualified you are, you cannot simply take the role of Director of the FBC.
“I didn’t want to be at your party! Last time, your friend tried to set me up with her son, for fuck’s sake. I’m sick of being some show piece for you to show off to your friends. This is why I didn’t talk to you.” Emily says to her mom.
This is a house of failed expectations that were set too high to begin with, Jesse thinks. She is all too familiar with that type of House. She grew up in one, and she spent 17 years trying to find one.
Jesse feels a bit awkward that her parents would take this moment to berate Emily when it’s supposed to be about their relationship.
“And dad, it’s not like that, and why should you get to say how you raised me? Everything I gained is because of my work, not because of the AP classes you made me take! Your expectations only made me feel like shit because I was never good enough for you. So what now? Do I live up to your expectations? Is my girlfriend up to your standards? Perfect was never good enough for you, like I could be any better. Jesse, I think we should go.” Emily snaps, grabbing her purse from off the table.
Jesse stammers for a moment, trying to register the fight that just went down. Emily grabs one of the carefully engineered photos and opens the door.
Jesse follows, not even stopping for a goodbye. She’s lost, and for a second, she thinks about how exactly alike this place is to the ward. She doesn’t dwell on it now. The main goal now is to leave before this horrible house does exactly what it promises.
Emily breathes a sigh of relief once they get into the car.
“What the hell happened back there?” Jesse asks, surprised.
“I’m sorry you had to be there for it. I was hoping it’d go better. They’re always like that, judging everything I do and pushing me. I made the mistake of mentioning I had a girlfriend and they started blowing up my phone for days about it. I just wanted it to stop.” Emily replies.
Jesse puts a hand on top of hers. “It’s okay. Do you want to go back to your place, or mine? Or anywhere, really. I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you.” she says.
“I don’t think I’ve gone to your place. I’d like to check it out.” Emily says.
With a nod, Jesse starts driving. Once again, she thinks of how similar that house was to the ward. Both full of people with too-high expectations, both white and clinical and soulless. How anyone could live and love in such an environment that is designed for show is beyond her.
Soon enough, her apartment door is open. At least it doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke. Trench must’ve had the decency to not smoke indoors. Somehow, this apartment feels as soulless as the one that belongs to Emily’s parents.
Maybe it’s to do with how he never stayed long. Never gave it personality like Emily did. She doesn’t dwell on the thought. There are better things to do, like make coffee for Emily.
“You took one of the pictures?” Jesse asks, handing Emily a coffee mug. It’s branded with the FBC seal. Jesse is known around the Bureau for stealing unclaimed coffee mugs.
“Yeah. I’m looking at it and I just realized how much I hate it. We were at some fancy photo place and they made me wear matching outfits with them. I hated the dress they made me wear, but they paraded me around in it all day. Like I’m some golden example of a child. Their golden child is a child that never behaves like one.” Emily replies.
“Nobody really expected much of me, none of my foster parents did. Guess they’re wrong now.” Jesse comments, gesturing to her suit.
“Yeah. They’d be wrong for sure.” Emily replies.
“And you’ve done more for yourself than your parents ever made you do. You’re not just some tool to make them look better. Hell, you worked your ass off to save us, and don’t even try denying it. That’s a hundred times better than some AP class.” Jesse says.
They sit close to each other on the couch, enjoying each other’s company. Their hands are perfectly shaped to lock together, Polaris dancing around the both of them. “Maybe we can give this place its soul back.” Jesse thinks. Polaris agrees. A House isn’t irredeemable until the occupants make it irredeemable.