Author: Apenamee
Disclaimer(s): Based on the movie directed by Guillermo del Toro. Mike Mignola (comic books) Guillermo del Toro (screen story) ... please do not use Wen for fan fiction
Summary: She gave it to the cat, but the cat came back.
Archive: Here
Feedback: penamed@yahoo.com
The Reference of Dr. Sapien
Volume One
Pinions
Once they see what I am about to do, the others quickly leave the room.
I laugh to myself. Unwrapping the bundle reveals the bone white form, which immediately dissolves into grains, melting across the steel preparation table.
I slide in my hands, digging for the little mummies. They lay revealed in front of me. I take the first one, gingerly breaking off its clay casing. The decaying smell is overwhelming. Its brown mottled shell must come off as well. I grab a knife and delicately slice so its contents won’t be marred.
I do the same to the next and the next. I pick them up and slide them onto an antique tray, decorated with inlaid gold koi. They are pinyin – “Thousand year-old egg”. Really only about 100 days old, but still, they reek. My husband loves them.
_*_*_*_
The government has marvelous technology that the public may never see. I like the scanner that can catalog my books any way I like, automatically. The scanner produces a small chip which is then embedded in the book, which I could then find from anywhere in the world. Abe still prefers to use me for a reference, and he'll always find me near.
As time goes on, I straighten and clean our library, which is really everyone’s living room. I may be a slacker, but still, I like to keep busy, and to most people, this passes for work.
I’m slowly dismantling the card catalog. The professor wrote hundreds of reference cards in his careful script, each one holding a memory for my husband. We sit, and he shares them with me, one by one, until I feel as if Broom were my grandfather.
I’ve been putting them into a box for Red.
There, at the back of one little drawer, behind a row of cards, I found an envelope. It was marked, “In the event of my passing”.
Must be a will for Red, I thought, and showed it to Abe. “Do you want to Touch it?” I asked.
“No!” He waved me away. “Go to him right away. You can come back and tell me about it.”
I left the library, and went down the hall.
“Come in.”
Liz was out, and Red was lounging on the bed. He wasn't in a good mood, but he only curled his lip at me before turning to pet the cat on his lap. If he yelled at me, Abe would know, and then so would Liz, so I ignored his mood and came in.
“Don’t growl at me Red, I have something for you”. I gave him the envelope and turned to go out.
“Ehh, sit down, Wen.” He waved the envelope. “What is this?”
“I don’t know, but it has your father’s handwriting on it. It should be yours.”
His head tilted from side to side as he opened the envelope. It wasn't sealed. His fingers reached inside, withdrawing a white feather. He look up at me. “Did you open this?”
“Red, That would have been rude. I found it and came straight to you. Abe didn't even see it.”
“Alright, alright.” He turned the feather in his fingers, then looked at the envelope. The cat reached up, and gently pawed it. Red turned his attention to his cat.
“Must have been for him,” he smiled as he waved the feather back and forth. “Thanks.” He patted my hand, only hurting me a little.
I walked back to the library, and up the spiral staircase. “Abe, look.” I sat at the edge of the tank. He came up to me, and put his wet hand on my forehead.
After a moment he smiled at Red.
_*_*_*_
The cat walked out the door when Red’s dinner was delivered, feather in its mouth. It trotted down the corridor, turning back and forth until it reached the door of the library. Abe saw it from the other side of the glass as it ran to me, then wound itself around my legs. It put its front paws on my knee, reaching up to give me the feather.
I took it, and the cat turned around and left.
“Abe?” I looked at him.
He looked concerned. “Bring it over here.” I held it up to the glass, and he concentrated, head tilted down. He looked up into my eyes. “It’s yours,” he said, and swam back.
“That’s silly, I don’t have any feathers. What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s yours. No one else is in it.” He swam up to get out of the tank, coming down a minute later.
“I’ll spend some more time with it, if you like.” Abe took the feather, Reading it as he slowly walked around the library. He seemed unusually contented. “This feather, says ‘for Wen’ ”. He stroked me on the face with it, before putting it in my hand.
“Does that sound right to you?” I didn't like it at all.
Maybe the thing was misleading him. He shrugged, then leaned in for a kiss.
He had me distracted for a minute, but then I turned away. “If it’s mine, I know where I’m filing it.” I threw it in the trash.
Touching my hand, then my mind, he Thought, Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?
Why would I need a feather? I thought back.
“OK, maybe not.” He changed the subject. “I should exercise. Would you come with me to the pool?”
I nodded my head. Only if we can swim together.
_*_*_*_
I held my breath as he took over swimming for me, holding me by my waist, bringing me down under the water. Moving in unison, it made me wonder if schools of fish somehow swim with one mind.
I closed my eyes, and looked through his. He sped me along, controlling both our bodies, until I was begging for air.
I broke the water for a breath. Floating on the surface was the feather, waiting for me.
My panic was enough to bring Abe up too. He put his arm back around me. ”Leave it,” he said, and took me under again. We swam to the other side, then left the pool without a backward glance.
_*_*_*_
An hour later, just as I had finished making coffee, the feather was back; revealed under my cup as soon as I had lifted it for a first sip.
This was such an irritation. Why didn't the Professor at least include a note, instructions, something? Why didn't anyone think the thing was dangerous?
“You, are, TICKING ME OFF!” I slammed down my cup on it.
That was stupid. The agents in the break room looked at me, and averted their eyes. I picked up the feather and poured the rest of my coffee on it, then trashed it, although I knew that wouldn't do any good. I ran cold water over my burned fingers. Then I stomped back to the library to research the thing.
Abe was nowhere to be found. He hated it when I got mad. I started pulling books off the shelf, tossing them angrily, but carefully, on to the floor.
Hours later I sat at the feet of the statue of the archangel Michael. Books were strewn around me, and I still had no answers. I was tempted to let a tear come to my eye out of self-pity. The feather, perfectly white, floated down and landed at my feet.
I looked up at the face of the statue.
_*_*_*_
“John, could you do a favor for me?” I came up to him as he was sitting at the table, sandwich half in his mouth. He waved at me until he finished his bite, and wiped his mouth.
“Wen! Haven’t seen you lately.” He smiled.
I pulled up a chair. “Give me a ride on your bike.”
“That’s it? Yeah, I guess. Sure. Where to?” He asked.
To the river. I have something I want to dump.”
“Give me 20 minutes, I’ll have to sign out first.” He went back to his sandwich.
I walked up to the glass and put my hand up. Abe met my hand on the other side, then nodded.
“If you wish. But I really don’t think the Professor would have left it for you so that you could throw it away.”
“He left it for me and not Red?”
“Didn't I tell you that? I thought you had figured it out by now – aren't you the librarian?” Abe replied.
“Don’t play the Zen master, Abe. You know I’m dense, and I’m sick of waiting on the thing. I might not even want to find out why it’s here.”
“I think you will.”
Just then John came in. “You two arguing? I can …” he said.
I went over and kissed the glass. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. The thing is going.” I grabbed John’s arm. “Let’s leave.”
“You need a jacket.” he said.
_*_*_*_
We sped down the wide street, headed for the river. John gave me his helmet, and I tried to enjoy the ride, but the scenery quickly lost charm as the roadside trash increased. “Faster!” I yelled in his ear, and he swerved in and out between trucks, his love of danger provoked.
Too soon, we reached the banks of the Passaic. “Farther,” I said. “Go to Droyer's Point.”
John and I got back on the bike, and he sped to the expressway. We exited, and traveled by the river, until the road became dirt, down to the point where the Passaic met the Hudson. John pulled up over the weeds and stopped.
I stuck the feather in a hunk of concrete, and John hurled it into the water.
Suddenly I wondered if I had done the right thing, but of course by then, it was too late.
“Did you know why I did that?” He shook his head. No idea, and still he helped me, without a question. How trusting. Liz and I should take him along the next time we go out. I’m sure Red wouldn't mind.
“Well, let me tell you a story…”
_*_*_*_
We sped back, the way we had come, until the BPRD was again in sight. John stopped the bike at the entrance, and I punched up the eye scanner. The gate opened, and I got back on the bike to go in.
Hundreds of pigeons flew down in the courtyard in front of us before we could move. The flock parted, and a dove walked out, up to me, the feather in its beak. Then the birds left, spiraling up and away from us.
It was no use. I picked it up, and we returned underground.
_*_*_*_
I sat in a chair by the glass of the tank, the feather in my hands. It hadn't hurt me yet, or anyone else. It was staying here, whether I liked it or not.
I had no defense against any of this. What defense did Broom have? Abe told me the Professor knew he was safe until his death, and even beyond. Who gave the feather to Broom, and was it meant to be passed on? He seemed to have wished it to be.
Fear, versus the knowledge of protection. I watched Abe behind the glass, as he Read me.
I think I need to study, for a while, I thought.
"Sit then, and share it with me."
I grabbed a pillow, and the book Broom had kept close to him, and opened its pages.
"Covered in his pinions," I read to myself. The feather would be a bookmark, if nothing else.
And there it rests.
A Man, A Plan Earworm Pulling Back The Curtain Pinions