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Unfinished Business
Chapter Six
"Flying, as in sitting back in plush seats, staring out at the tiny clouds, waiting for flight attendants to bring us yummy honey roasted peanuts?" Kaetlyn responded hopefully.
Cian hummed. "Mmm, not quite. How about flying as in, Gasp! Is that a bird? Is that a plane? No, it's SuperKae!" He pumped a fist lazily in the air.
"Oh." She waved a weak fist back. "Super."
Cian arched an eyebrow. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact –"
"No problem. You're going to get over it."
"Oh. Well then. Yippee."
He saw her look and he smiled. Cocking his head to the side, he nodded. "No worries, Kae. It wouldn't really be like flying flying. It's more like a gentle hovering."
"Hovering? Oh, hovering I can do. Yes, hovering is good. Just –" She probed cautiously. "How far off the ground must this hovering go?"
The mediator ruffled her hair. "I told you - don't worry. First lesson, we'll start off easy. We'll just stick to indoors. Right here."
Kaetlyn smiled in relief. "Great."
"Yeah, besides, wouldn't want you soaring off into the sky like a helium balloon on the loose, would we now?"
"No! No, we would not. No. That – that would not be so good." Kaetlyn chuckled with a note of desperation.
"I didn't think so." The corners of Cian's lips quirked suspiciously. "Great! Let's start!"
"Yeah," Kaetlyn replied faintly. Her fingers were already fidgeting around the hem of her shirt. "Yay."
G.I.T. Trainer: Cian Blake
Lesson One: Art of Flying/Hovering
Location: Living Room, Blake's Place
"Mind over matter. That is the essential basis for all our lessons. You must remember that you must concentrate under all circumstances. You can focus on a single emotion like anger or grief, but never ever should you get completely wrapped up in your feelings to the point that it seriously undermines your abilities. Got that?" Cian intoned, his eyes intent on hers.
"Sure. Use the force." Kaetlyn cracked a smile. Her eyes kept darting up and down, bouncing back between Cian and the floor. She'd always had a problem with holding the gazes of other people – especially those with whom she didn't exactly feel close to. And this guy was nowhere near close to the top of her "buddy list".
The mediator didn't smile back. "Be serious, Worthing. Do you find this funny?" He barked.
She blinked. "Um, no, sorry." She took a seat.
"Did I say you could sit down?"
"No, sir!" She bounded up to her feet.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
"I – I don't know. What – what am I supposed to do exactly?"
"Concentrate."
"About what?"
"Focus."
"Yeah. Okay." She hesitated. "But, you know, on what exactly?"
He was quiet. And then he closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. Leaning against the couch, his hip pressing against the leather, Cian suddenly looked exhausted.
She felt guilty. Even though she had no say in her sudden death via some crazy ghostly conspiracy, she felt bad. Like she should be smarter, like she should be better at this. Like she was responsible for being an undue burden on Cian.
She just wanted to be normal again. She just wanted to be a regular college student. Heck, she'd even do all her homework and study for her exams days in advance if she could just have her life back.
But nope, she didn't need to stress over any Chemistry quiz anymore. No, she now had bigger stuff to worry about apparently – things that seemed more at home in some minor horror flick. Well, damn. She didn't even like horror movies.
And now, not only did she have to face her weird reality, but she was also becoming a bother to a guy she was semi attracted to. Yeah, right, just semi. Oh so convincing, Kae. Her life – or her undead life – or uh, her dead life? – was now a toxic mess and she somehow couldn't bear the thought that her extreme "pathetic-ness" was being witnessed by Cian, who seemed so much better at keeping in control of things.
Until now. Where she was concerned, the man seemed ready to throw in the towel.
She opened her mouth. "I'm sorry."
Then she realized that there was an echo in the room.
Cian stared at her sheepishly and with his black hair sticking up in messy tufts, he looked so much like a child. A child panda. Because whoa, those were some serious dark circles. Poor Mr. Tired Ghostbuster.
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
Kaetlyn stared at him. "Um …"
"The truth is I'm not too good at this. I don't really know why or how ghosts do the things you do. I just know the textbook basics and then I explain them … and hope for the best." He gritted his teeth and shrugged in resignation.
"Oh."
"So, I think we're going to have to just … well …"
"Wing it?" Kaetlyn offered helpfully. If there's anything she could do, she could offer vocabulary.
"Yeah. Yes." He rubbed his chin. "Sorry again."
"No. No. It's okay." Because it was. It somehow made her feel better actually. As long as the man thinks it's his problem, it's not her problem then. Works for her. "I'll concentrate. On an emotion, right? I'll focus. And try."
He nodded mutedly and then he folded his arms, his weary eyes locked on her.
"Are you sure you don't want to rest? I mean, we could always continue tomorrow."
"No, it's fine. We'll do a bit for now and then I'll get to bed. Try."
She rubbed her hands and then nodded. "Alright then. I guess …" She closed her eyes.
Okay, so, emotions. Anger. That's good. That's powerful. She tried to remember the last time she ever got angry, but whatever memory she drew up seemed minor now. Everything felt blocked off to her by a foggy glass barrier. Everything felt detached and so very insignificant right now and she was beginning to feel tired, a deflated balloon.
It's been a long day.
A very long day.
And from now, this would apparently be what the rest of her days are like. Dismal. The corners of her eyes prickled suspiciously and she tightened her eyelids resolutely.
At the very best, she could find a way to visit her family. Then she could watch them grieve, watch them move on, watch them age, and watch them pass away. And if they lived truly fulfilled lives, maybe they wouldn't have unfinished business then and they could just move on to some place better. Some place that she couldn't go to yet. Some place that she might not even be able to get to. Her chest felt tight then and her stomach flopped even as she tried to quash the overwhelming feeling of self-pity and then –
"You're doing it! You're doing it! Waitwait, whoa, oh –"
Her eyes flew open. A flash of light, a swirl of colors. Thud. Splitting pain. And then all went black.
"Shit."
Status: Working on it
Report as Verified by Cian Blake, ID 8156.
She refused to look up. Her back straightened, she sat on the sofa stiffly and tried to ignore everything else but her hands in her lap.
"Come on now. What's wrong? It was a success."
Her voice was stilted and low. "I hit the ceiling."
"You didn't exactly hit – you bounced – okay, you bumped into it. Slightly. It was so small. Really, didn't even leave a dent."
She glared at her fingers, ignoring the urge to wince and rub the crown of her head again. Even though she didn't touch it, she knew it must feel hot and swollen.
"That was a joke. Come on, are you really okay? I didn't even think you could knock yourself out like that."
Her cheeks burned.
"But it's a good sign. A good indication of your powers. You're a natural. You flew up and then somehow your emotions got so intense, you actually manifested yourself. So you became physical and you flew – two very good things. Just … not so much now in this context of uh, flying while getting physical and then …going bam." He paused. "But still good. Still good."
She looked up in disbelief, hesitating. "Really? It was okay?"
Cian's back was toward her, his hands clasped behind him as he stared out the window. It was dark outside and the wane glow of moonlight splashed through his dark hair, illuminating the ends like liquid silver. "Sure. It was spectacular."
There was a strange quiver to his shoulders and for a minute there, she worried that he had finally overextended himself and was ready to collapse. And then she realized.
"You're laughing at me!" She accused. "Again!"
His back stiffened and there was a long period of silence. Then he chortled, "No, I'm not."
"Look at me then!"
The shaking was even more pronounced. "Can't right now. I need to calculate something."
"What?"
"Hold on, almost there. My taxes this year are so bad, they can make anyone cry."
"You – die!"
He turned around, his face an impressive, impassive pane, and he held it for a good solid two minutes before he doubled over. "Oh my god," he breathed. "The way you just rocketed up – skills, Kae. Skills."
"Oh, shut up. You can't do anything but laugh." She rubbed her palms glumly.
"It was fortunate though that you had materialized first. Otherwise, you'll go right through several floors and I'll have to chase you up to the rooftop. Even then, no guarantee I'll be able to rein you in." He waved a hand nonchalantly as he threw himself on the couch next to her. His right leg sprawled over the leather arm as he lounged with a big grin.
"I'm not a horse." She edged away from him grumpily.
"No, definitely not. More like a blimp, I would say."
"A blimp?" She choked. "I'm not even a little balloon?"
And he started laughing again.
She was determined not to smash herself into the ceiling again and so, it was with this mindset, that she was fully prepared to soar up without a hitch and then look at Cian pointedly and show him that neither his instruction nor his laughter was necessary in her success.
Unfortunately, Kaetlyn found that there was such a thing as being too much of a success.
But right now, she wasn't thinking about that. No, she was frantically trying to get herself back down onto the rooftop.
Dangling several feet up in the air in the chilly black night, she waggled her feet, even wiggling her toes, in an inane attempt to slowly ease herself down.
Well, look on the bright side. She hadn't hit the ceiling again.
Cian was right, she thought miserably. I am a blimp.
And then to her horror, she found herself shooting up. She closed her eyes to the rush of wind in her hair, upon her cheeks, and she screamed.
Eyes squinting against the pale yellow moonlight, he gritted his teeth against a blast of cold wind. Clad in only his navy knit sweater and blue jeans, he had been too busy to even think of grabbing a jacket, barreling up the steps as soon as Kaetlyn disappeared right through the ceiling.
He took several steps forward. Yeah, as if that could help me now. If only he could propel himself several steps up into the air, that might make a difference. "Kaetlyn!"
"Cian." She nodded with as much dignity as she could muster.
"Can you bring yourself back down?"
"I'm – I'm trying. It's not like I particularly enjoy hanging up here like a kite."
"Well." He paused. "Try harder."
Easy for you to say. She kicked her legs in futile. She was starting to feel like a suspended puppet doll and she burned with humiliation. She actually wished she had crashed into the ceiling this time.
As if he read her mind, he decided to offer his input. "Well, at least now you know hitting the ceiling wasn't that bad."
She didn't know the depths of how much she wanted to hurt him right then.
"I told you so." He added.
Oh, of course, it only gets better. She glared down at him, her black hair whipping around her cheeks. She seethed, "You –" And then she was shooting up again.
"Kaetlyn!" His voice was getting smaller. He was yelling out something else, but by that point, she couldn't hear him anymore.
She felt, rather than saw, a sudden flash of light and heat behind her and then - "Oof!" Her back crashed into something very solid and very scorching hot. Oh shit. Did I hit the sun already?
She lifted up her head, looking up, and a pair of iridescent crimson eyes met hers. Even though she didn't need to breathe, a breath instinctively caught in her chest in shock. From her vantage point, she stared up at the upside-down face of a strange man with short spiky midnight black hair. He stared down at her without any expression, his eyes darkened rubies.
His arms tightened around her waist, pressing her close against his chest and she jerked with a sudden realization.
Struggling in his arms, she said, "Let go!" Desperately wishing Cian was there, next to her, she fought. "Let go of me! What are you - Who are you?"
He didn't even bat an eye as he avoided her blind attempts at headbutting him. "Stop moving. We're going back down."
She hesitated, stiffening in his arms. "You – you're not part of the - Who are you?"
"On your side." His hands moved, encircling her waist tight, and his chin pressed against her hair. "Now shut up."
Before she could even suck in a breath, they were plunging back down to the ground. Her stomach plummeted and the wind whipped her in the face, her ears throbbing. The only thing she could do was close her eyes, grit her teeth, and brace herself, leaning back against warmth that she still wasn't sure she could trust.
Been trying to get back into writing the next chapter for Through Me, but after several months, heh. Oh boy. Lack of inspiration equals lack of motivation which makes for unhappy chapters. Sorry, all. I'm still trying though.
Until then, I just wanted to get back into writing again so I figured I might as well work on my other stories and see if my writer's block is the snooty kind and only selectively picky with certain pieces. And whaha! Unfinished Business seems to be faring slightly better. Chapter Six managed to crawl out.
I hope you all are well. I've been shoveling piles of work left and right and technically, I should be studying for an exam tomorrow, but no worries! I'm going to get back to all the private messages and emails soon.
Thanks for all the patience and support. You're all the best.
Yours,
Maeven