Feel It Still

[Thaddeus Wyse]

FRONT DOOR​

[member="Joza Perl"]​

​

He had bought flowers.

Okay, he had ripped out some chit from a garden he had passed coming here.

Bought the wrapping though.

It was nice wrapping. Had a pretty pink lint, looping around, with nice... honestly Elliot didn't even know what they called it. Those fluffy circle pieces. The lady behind the counter had used a scissor, brushing it against the lint. Somehow that had made it curly. Weird ass chit. Right now Elliot Locke was pacing back and forth. This wasn't an easy thing. How did you do a thing like this anyway?

Decades gone.

Disappeared.

The reasons didn't matter, did they? Truth be told if Elly was a better man he would have stayed away.

Problem was? Never had been one. His knuckles - bruised and beaten - tapped against the door. Then he took two steps back. An eyeing look at the door. Then another step back. Something told him that the first thing he'd be greeted with... would be a solid punch in the face. He'd take it, obviously. That didn't mean he had to make it the easiest thing to do first thing they saw each other, right?

Agent instincts were annoying like that. Things that happened to you, not things you did yourself.

 

[Joza Perl]

Taka-taka-taka​

Her fingers hitting the keys was the only sound to be heard in the house. If you listened closely, maybe even the low hum of electricity and appliances from the kitchen. Once, this had been a busy home. There’d been toys all over the floor, meals burned and food thrown to the ground by picky, little hands. There’d been yelling and crying and laughter, scolding and praise. The couch had been dragged over a faint stain on the carpet from a sick day, color faded with both age and numerous cleanings but still present. The same couch they’d pile on and watch a movie every Taungsday night with cheap Atrisian takeout.

With Nida braving her way towards the Silver Jedi, the Perl nest had emptied. Alan was here and there, lately spending his time overseeing branches of Heartbeat House that threaded through the galaxy. Yula never clung to one place for too long, especially so now that she’d found herself romantically intertwined. Proud of each of her children, Joza couldn’t help reflect on the chaos that was their upbringing with fondness. It was difficult and far from perfect, but she’d instilled her kids with the value of hard work, loyalty and (hopefully) empathy.

Taka-taka-taka​

​

Joza didn’t like to be here anymore, not with how empty and quiet it had become. Nowadays she stayed at her penthouse in the hotel, it was closer to her work and more lively. She never liked silence. So when the knock at the door echoed through the house, she finished typing her line and furrowed her brow. The kids would have let themselves in. She checked her messages to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Who would try and reach her all the way out here?

A few taps and swipes showed the live security camera footage just outside her door step. What she saw made her blink in surprise, then squint. Then squint more. It had been what, a decade and a half since he’d disappeared? The first few years she’d ran over and over in her head what she’d say to him once he came back, but he never did. Those thoughts had dissolved on their own out of necessity; she had a family to raise and a business to run. No more ‘what ifs’ could factor into that.

Rising from the kitchen table with an exasperated sigh, the Zeltron made her way towards the entrance to her home, past the hatchmarks on the wall denoting each child’s growth pattern. She opened the door, looked him up and down, then lofted a brow.

“Really, Elliot?”​

​

Then came the traditional left hook.​

​

[member="Elliot Locke"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Step in.

Shift head fraction.

Absorb blow to the head, counter with knuckle jab to the soft of the elbow. Incapacitate elbow. Follow up with blow to the shoulder. Throat. Slam heel in-

Flash.

The hook connected firmly (and perhaps satisfyingly) with his cheek. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Or maybe like a sack of torn-out flowers, ground still somewhat attached on the other end of it. Elly did roll with the fall though, because that was just good living. The last thing either one of them needed was cracking his skull there. Bleeding out. Ambulance. The whole mick-mack. No, thank you. He groaned there a bit, rubbing his jaw as he grunted.

"Still got that left hook, I see." The murmur soft and thoughtful. "Hey, Joza."

A beat.

"How you doing?" A crooked grin there, but as he tried to push himself back up to his feet- he crumbled through his knees again.

"Wooah, okay, so I am gonna sit here for a moment, gotchu flowers," He gestured towards the fallen bouquet (if you could call it that). "Sooo.. hey."

 

[Joza Perl]

Something in her face was…wholly unimpressed. Joza didn’t know if him turning up here was a positive thing or not, but wasn’t indifferent to him. She’d made her peace with the fact that he wasn’t coming back and that she had to move on. Had to fall out of love with him. Nothing would really change that, but it was something of a relief to know that he was…alive.

The bruises on his knuckles didn’t escape her notice, not when she had the time to look over his briefly prone form. Elliot may have been a special agent and whatnot, but his former wife was a veteran of both war and slavery. Especially when she had children, honing in on wounds, limps and the like became instinctual.

“Come on in, then. And pick those up.” Her eyes tilted towards the flowers before she turned to head back into the house.

Seating herself at the kitchen table, she didn’t gesture for him to do anything in particular. If he had any memory of the house, perhaps he would recognize the same basic layout—some furniture was new, some rearranged. Less children’s things, no more cribs or baby toys. No more burp cloths piled into the corner.

“What do you want, Elliot?” Her words were not unkind, but they were not kind either. Idly, she scrolled through the messages on the screen of her terminal. Perhaps it was time to give Alan a larger share of responsibility within the company.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Joza Perl"]

"Yes, ma'am,"

He murmured cautiously, while watching her stride back in.

Another rub of his chin, picking up the bouquet next and then picking himself back up. "What a woman." Elly said softly to himself before following her in. The door closed behind him and he was immediately hit by a sense of familiarity. Everything was different. Except that it wasn't. The lines were the same, just the contents within had swapped and shifted. This hit him harder than Locke had expected it to. It is one thing to logically know that life had moved on without you.

Another to see it for yourself.

"Not sure," Elliot answered truthfully. "Figured I owed you some answers, if you wanted them. Figured I'd owe to look my kid in the eye, if she wants that." A scratch of his chin again as he looked on over across the kitchen to find a place for the flowers.

Not finding a vase or anything. Coughing and carefully putting them on the counter next to the sink.

"You uh, look good, Joza. Life treating you... okay?"

Maw this was awkward.

 

[Joza Perl]

For a long time, Joza had hoped that this day would come. The day he’d show up at the door, a half-sheepish, half-smug grin on his face while holding some treat for the kids. She’d given up hope, made her peace with the fact that he wasn’t coming back, and moved on. It was difficult, but it was a decision she had to make for the children. Life still went on, the kids grew and got into all sorts of trouble. No sense in wondering about the ‘what ifs’.

She listened to him, continuing to scroll. She’d missed his voice, feelings started to stir now. Had she loved him, way back when? Aside from her children, Joza had never seemed to love the right people. “You remember where the drinks are.” The liquor cabinet was one aspect of the home that had not changed.

Perhaps he’d want a drink, perhaps not. Regardless, she brushed off his question for now, not particularly interested in talking about herself at the moment. She’d be silent for a while, face stern, as if there was anger simmering beneath the surface. Elliot would recognize her ‘thinking face’—Joza often looked irritated when deep in thought.

“Only if she wants to.” Green eyes finally looked away from the screen and found his own. “She asked about you for a while and I could only make up so many excuses.” The image of a little pink face looking up at her, asking ‘Where’s papa?’ settled into the front view of her mind. “They both asked after you.” Never did she speak an ill word of their father to them despite her own mixed emotions. “If she doesn’t want to see you, then you will leave her be.”

Joza remembered how hard it was for her to confront her own father, and she had willingly tried to seek him out. There was some satisfaction in the thought of Yula giving Elliot a good sock across the face. Regardless, it would hurt and that was something she didn’t want for her daughter, but wouldn’t keep her from if she’d wished it.

Part of Joza had kicked herself for letting her family life end up like her own as a child. Single mother raising kids. Can’t even keep a man around, can you? Another, now larger part of her found pride in it. The kids and grown up happy and healthy, wanting for nothing.

“What happened to you, Elliot?”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Joza Perl"]

A nod about the liquor.

He didn't feel like drinking right now.

Correction, Elliot did feel like having a stiff drink right now. That feel was enough for him to mentally say no to himself. This was too important to blunt with some whiskey. Later maybe. When he was back at the hotel. Could probably finish the bottle and drown his thoughts out. Pass out, make sure there wouldn't be any dreams to sink into.

Yeah, that would be good.

"Of course, only if they want to." Alan too. Not his kid, but he had wiped his butt so many times there wasn't a big difference there. Plus he had dissolved his daddy in acid. That sort of thing made you responsible, he figured.

A light shrug.

Coughing, walking towards the window and looking out, so he didn't need to look her in the eye.

"Sith got me. Got captured, been a testing pig for the past decade or so. Managed to escape a week back and here I am." His hand rubbing at new deep scars, set edged into the back of his neck. The way that Elliot said it he might have been talking about the weather.

 

[Joza Perl]

For as long as she had known him, Elliot had always held his cards close to his chest. Never shared more than he had to, hell, he shared less than he had to. It was who he was, how years of service and doing the unspeakable had molded him.

“And here you are.”

He avoided her gaze, and she was used to it.

Joza didn’t look back to the monitor. “A decade is a long time, Elliot.” She spoke slowly, evenly. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you’d need. The kids don’t come around as much anymore, so there’s little chance that anyone pursuing you would find them here.” The house had always been noisy with three children running around, but now it was unsettlingly silent.

His hand brushed against a fresh set of scars on the back of his neck and her head tilted to the side. So calm in talking about a decade of torture, but she knew better than to assume he was alright. Joza had awoken more than once to him tossing and turning with nightmares.

“What did they do to you, Elliot?”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Joza Perl"]

A glance towards her.

Not quite meeting her eye, but the fragility of the moment didn't invite much more. Not for him. She knew that. It seemed that even through the years of captivity that much hadn't changed.

"No... no, that's okay." A shrug there. "Nobody will be coming for me." Resolute there. Firm. This was something that Elliot knew in his heart of hearts. He didn't elaborate the point, but that was something else Joza knew. Elly was not one to leave loose ends untied. Whatever he had done to get out? It would have been final. A cord cut and then burned until there were naught but ashes.

Just how it went.

"Would be here for a long time, if I got into that, Jozie." A glance then. Their eyes meeting for a moment, then he looked away. Fragile. "-easier to say what they didn't do. They dun' made me kill for 'em, until I was theirs. Didn't make me hurt people, til they had shaped me into what they needed." A scratch again, at those same scars, like it was a tick of his now.

"Who knew that the same reason I ain't quite right in the head was what got me out in the end."

His personalities. The compartmentalization after years of being undercover here and there. "Part of me was still looking out. Back of mah head. While the rest was washed clean for them, it waited, until I could break free."

A bitter laugh.

"And here I am." Repeating those same words again. Maybe part of him still thought he was there.

 

[Joza Perl]

“I’ve got time, Elly.”

That wasn’t true, strictly speaking. She never had time anymore, she’d never had time period. Children, the company, wars, they each took up all of the time she had and then some. But she’d make time, because despite the distance, the years apart and their vague way of communicating, she still cared for Elliot. Maybe not as deeply and as wholly as she did when they were married, but he was still someone important to her, and Joza had lost too many important people to just push him out of her life.

Her eyes lingered on the back of his neck before she turned away and stood, making her way over to the fridge. She opened the door, rooted around for a bottle of dark amber liquid and retrieved a pair of plain glasses. After pouring them each a cup, she walked over to the window where Elliot was lingering, handing him a cup.

“Don’t worry; it’s apple juice.” He had said he didn’t want a drink and she would respect that, but the sweet-tart taste of juice was something so out of place for this film noir that it might offer some comfort. Or a momentary distraction, at least. “Alan still drinks it, so I keep it around for him in case he shows up.”

She took a sip, letting her thoughts remain on her son for a few moments. “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” She’d never forced him to talk before. “But spending some time here might help you feel more…” What was the word she was looking for? “Settled.” It wouldn’t happen overnight, trauma took years to unwind.

“We could spend a night at the club, like we used to.” A wistful smile curved against the rim of the glass as she recalled brighter days.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Joza Perl"]

A tired smile, but accepting the apple juice.

"That lad always liked his juice, glad some things haven't changed." That was part of the healing, no? Finding a spot of center. Familiarity. Things to hook into and not let go. When everything else was slipping, you could count on that foundation. Make sure it didn't go too far. At least... that was the theory, Elliot wasn't sure how applicable it was for him. Nothing about him was ordinary or simple. "Appreciate it. Maybe some day? It's too fresh now, too real, if you feel me."

Raising the glass to her.

"I'd like to drink this juice with you though, that I'd like."

He glanced away from her when she mentioned spending some time in this house. Instead looking at the room again. The memories of... better times. Simpler ones. They had good moments here. Lots of them. Maybe the fact that Joza had been his sun was why he had made that fatal mis- A blink. No, better not to think about that now. Before he could reply, the club was mentioned. Now there Elly brought out his time-worn smirk. Rougher around the edges, but still one hundred percent authentic Elly.

"Oh, yeah? Wan' see if I still got da groove, eh?" A soft chuckle. "I'd like that. Some music might do me good. Business is going well then?"

Decades ago Elliot would have looked up every little thing about Joza first.

Married or not. Business well? Problems (criminal or otherwise)? Any and all details. Just because that was who Elly had been. Now... now he had come in blind.

It felt more genuine.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza lifted her glass to clink softly against Elliot’s. How strange it was that after all these years, there was still something so familiar about them. Not necessarily her, or him, but them together. But there were untold decades where they had diverged. Joza hadn’t been able to afford holding out hope for that long, not with the kids and the business. Life had to move on. Now she wondered, briefly, if she could love Elliot Locke again.

It was a start.

“Very well. Too well sometimes. Certainly keeps me busy.” There was something amused in her voice. Joza was a proud woman, proud of the life she’d built, the children she’d raised, the company she’d grown.

Maybe clubbing wasn’t the best idea tonight.

She lingered near the picture window now, tracing a framed photo with the side of her finger. “Elliot, there’s something we should talk about. Well, someone.” The taste of the juice lingered on her tongue, a sharp, sweet-tart note that seemed entirely out of place for the situation. Then again, nothing ever seemed to be in place when you were discussing heavy matters.

Her hand curled around the frame, picking it up to inspect the subjects in the photo. “Two weeks after you had left, I found out I was pregnant.” There was no trying to dancing around the existence of another child, no way to sugar coat it. It wouldn’t have felt right to Joza, and Elly had always been a straight shooter anyhow. She paced back over to him, handing Elly the frame. There was a young mother with four children—Alan and Yula he’d be able to pick out. Nida, the youngest sibling he would not recognize as she had been adopted into Elliot’s disappearance. She pointed to the light skinned boy with dark hair, who clearly had inherited more from his father than from his mother.

“This is your son, [member="Dagon Perl"]. He’s a police officer on Terminus. He and Yula always fought, but they stuck to eachother like glue.” She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips, remembering her children when they were younger. She wished that Elly could have been there to witness them grow up. “The little pink one is Nida. Found her in a slaver ring I helped bust.”

[member="Elliot Locke"]