Chapter Text
Per aspera ad astra | "Through hardship to the stars". Every struggle brings you closer to who you're meant to be. You're not failing- you're growing through it. Every struggle is part of the climb. Keep going, even if it's slow. [Denotation]
*
*
For the first time in months, Persephone rolls into the driveway of her mother's house. Well, technically, she doesn't really do anything at all.
The driver's door of Ironhide's alt-mode opens almost immediately after they stop. «Move it, kid», he huffs. «We're on a schedule.»
Percy snorts in amusement, not moving an inch. «It's a private flight. You know the plane is gonna wait for us, right?»
As a response, the engine revs a couple times in short and quick bursts; over time, Percy has had the opportunity to notice it's something he does when he's impatient.
«Yeah yeah. I know how eager you are to go back and kick ass. I'm sorry you're stuck with me instead.» She averts her eyes from the steering wheel and instead rummages in her backpack, previously abandoned on the passenger seat, and fishes out a small black case. Before he can answer, she adds: «But, it's a perfect opportunity to try these!» And waves the case. Inside, there's a set of earpieces.
«I don't see the point», Ironhide comments, even though he seems to settle, if just a little.
«The point», Percy hops out of the alt-mode with a huff and puts on one of the small devices, «is that Will is paranoid and this might be the only way he's letting me off the leash for something that isn't related to college.»
«Weren't you the one bragging about "not having a shred of social life"?» He retorts, quoting what she said a while back.
She stops walking and turns around. «Hey, who said anything about social? I just want him to get off my back a little.» And to worry less, she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. He's had a lot on his plate lately, and this could help giving him one less thing to deal with.
«His concern is legitimate. We still don't know what those punks are after», he says. She takes out her phone to check on the signal condition of the earpiece. She knows he's right; it's the whole reason why Bumblebee is still with Sam, and why Ironhide is with her right now. Until they find out what the Decepticons are after, they are all potential targets.
She blows out some air, mumbles «I know, I know» and starts heading for the entrance. In one swift motion, she whips out the keys and quickly opens the door before throwing one last look behind her, adjusting the earpiece. «I'll be quick, I promise. I just have to grab a couple of things.»
Everything is pretty much how she left it, except for one or two inches of dust everywhere. She is about to close the door, then changes her mind and leaves it open halfway instead. It's weird to be back after so long. She spaces out for a moment, then shakes her head. Focus.
She's here to collect a few things to prepare for the second year at college.
Which means: bedroom first.
She moves, boots echoing slightly on the pavement; she crosses the living room, and turns into the short hallway that leads to her room. It's simple: only a few steps. It had been so easy before; just closed her eyes, passed right by, and moved on. So why does she stop now?
Closing her eyes won't work this time, so she looks and ends up staring at the closed door that leads to her mother's bedroom. As if her body reacts on its own, she sees her own hand reach for the doorknob, lower it, and then gently push the door open.
Everything is just as she remembers it.
Double bed perfectly made; all the objects on the dresser lined up in order; all the books are still there, on those shelves her mother loved so much. She walks past them, reading a few titles; mostly fairy tales.
Percy reaches out and carefully runs her fingers along the spines of a few books. She frowns. It's like a thought that crosses her mind in a flash for the first time, but it feels familiar, natural, obvious as the air she breathes in.
Gracie loved fairy tales.
Alice in Wonderland. There's something about it that-
A voice in her ear: «Kid?»
Percy jumps, brought out of the haze immediately. «Holy mother of Zeus, Hide! You scared me!»
«Oh, your little device works», he casually comments, not acknowledging the fact that he almost gave Percy a heart attack.
«Of course it does, who do you think I am?» She pauses and squints, even though no one can see. «You did it on purpose, didn't you?»
«No, but it is amusing.»
«Oh, yeah, sure, hear how I'm laughing my ass off? Har har har», she mocks. How long has she been there? Wait, that's not important. She can just step out and go about her business again.
That's what she does; but when she turns to close the door, her gaze casually lands on the large wooden wardrobe that covers the entire wall opposite from the bed. Her mother had it carved to show some of the scenes from The Chronicles of Narnia. It is an impressive piece of work, sure. But what grabs her attention is a small, very small, white piece of something sticking out of the bottom left door, like that something got stuck in the middle of closing it.
Weird.
Percy gingerly crosses the distance to the wardrobe, turns the key and slowly opens the door. A rectangular piece of thick paper immediately falls to the ground with a muffled sound. No, not a piece of paper: a picture. She crouches and gently picks it up. The feeling she gets is close to something you've been desperately trying to remember suddenly coming to you during a random moment. But, at the same time, the green eyes that stare at her, motionless and so, so familiar, are like a punch in the gut.
It's a photo of her mother.
Well, of her and her mother. One that was taken when Percy was little, not too long before her mother died. The woman is hugging her from behind, smiling, and the little girl in the picture seems to be laughing heartily.
Percy can't remember the last time she laughed like that.
With her eyes fixed on the picture, she raises to her feet. She randomly looks up and sees that one box is missing. And she knows it's missing, because she's the one who put it there with the rest of her mother's things when she grew old enough to understand that her father didn't show any interest in doing it. But they were all personal belongings, who would be interested in-
Again, from her earpiece: «Are you done yet?»
«Gods, you sound like Sideswipe», she comments with amusement in her voice, not taking her eyes off the top shelf of the wardrobe.
A pause, then: «That is mildly offensive.»
Percy decides to gather her things and come back to the room later; she still folds the picture and slips it in the back pocket of her jeans. «Yeah? Well, it's true. You're being impatient.» He doesn't answer. She goes to her room, grabs a random bag and mindlessly picks up a few objects she remotely remembers she might need. «Who knows, maybe he'll be the one to come with me next time. It'd be fun for him.»
«There's a reason why they don't let him out of the base yet», he reluctantly says, like he doesn't really want to admit it.
«I mean, he can't be worse than the twins.» She pauses. «Can he?»
He only hums in response.
She briefly stops in front of the door to her mother's bedroom, then gently closes the door and walks back to the entrance. Now, looking at the evidence, someone clearly took something in a rush. Even though she finds it difficult to believe he'd be interested, her father is, to her knowledge, the only other person who has the key to this house. But, what is he looking for? And why now, after all these years?
She finally exits the house and locks the door. Before she even steps away from the entrance, she hears Ironhide immediately turning on the engine. «Yeah yeah. I'm here, I'm done», she complains despite the grin on her face. She walks around the front, patting the hood once, and he opens the driver's door for her. She climbs in, letting the bag fall from her shoulder and onto the passenger seat as the door closes behind her; he's already pulling out of the driveway and into the main road.
Silently, she reaches for the photo, unfolds it and observes it for a few moments. Besides the background, a familiar sight of an open field with a big oak tree in the middle and the woods further back, something else catches her attention. On the lower-right corner, there's something written in black ink:
"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it is not."
.
.
.
(somewhen before this story)
There was a soft knock on Atticus Atchley's office door. After a curt «come in» from him, a young secretary peeks into the room from the corridor. She was dressed in a formal attire, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun. «There's a man asking to see you, sir.» She told him the man's name.
«Ah, yes, he's one of my old clients. Let him in», he answered, closing the folder he was reading over.
The woman opened the door a bit more to let said man pass. Atticus stood up from his place behind the desk. He left instructions to not be disturbed, and after a few moments the two were alone in the office.
«Did you find it?» Atticus asked, standing up and walking around the table until he was in front of the man.
«Straight to the point, as usual», the other commented, and showed Atticus the object he was holding: something that resembled a lunchbox of some kind. It didn't have nay peculiar decorations on, it was dented and smeared with dirt. There were hints of rust beginning to form on one corner. «Wasn't easy. It wasn't in the house, if you're interested.»
«I'm not.» He took the box, carefully placed it on the desk and dusted his hands off. Then, he pointed at the small keyhole in the front. «Locked?»
«Bit of leverage and it'll open right up», the man shrugged. «It's too cheap to hold.»
«Very well.» He didn't seem too convinced, but didn't press, either. Instead, he walked back to the chair behind the desk. «Now, about the other matter at hand-» He sat down, took a handful of papers carefully stapled together and handed them to the man. He then leaned back on the chair. «You have no idea of the strings I had to pull to get you these documents. Make it count.»
The other person took the bundle and quickly scanned it over, then looked up. «That's all?»
«That's all», came the cold answer. The man nodded once, then turned to leave. Before he could turn the corner out of the door and disappear entirely, Atticus called his name. «One more thing. I chose you because you're one of the best men I got for this job. Keyword: "one of". And, just to be clear, I don't have time to clean up after anyone's mess. In case something happens, I don't care how but be sure to fix it, and do it fast. Or I'll find someone who will.» He barely spared him one last glance. «You're good. Not irreplaceable.»