Isabelle shakes her arms free and stares at the crowd without seeing. The seconds tick by and the tension starts to rise. Those who have worked with her for some time recognise the warnings. Those who know her best spot the tells. The hands held too stiffly, the fists clenched so tight that her nails nearly break skin. Most of all. The eyes. The responsibility to stop it falls to Luca - and he opens his mouth to try, but it's just that bit too late. "Well?" shrieks Isabelle, and a number of the more junior staff flinch. "What are you all standing here for? Are you waiting for some kind of speech? You have jobs to do, don't you? [i]Get to work!!"[/i] ************************************* "… and there is still the post-match press conference in a half hour, ma'am." "[i]Fuck [/i]the press." Isabelle is moving, running really, along the corridor away from the hanger. The mech crews have stayed behind, save Chief Tomas and Asil, who are pacing her to update on the state of repairs and worry respectively. There are a couple more hangers-on, including her publicist and secretary who just [i]would not shut up[/i]. "Hey, hey, it's okay." A voice, and something grabbing her hand. Isabelle freezes at the unexpected contact, turning to look with wide eyes as the engineer smiles up at her. "It'll be okay." she says, voice reassuring "So what if we lost? You were amazing out there! And you took out Ada freakin' Smith! Even if the scoreboard says otherwise, there's so much to be prou--" Isabelle doesn't really respond to the words, just staring at their hands with growing horror. "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" She wrenches her hand free, stepping back in the process, chest heaving. Briefly, the two woman are frozen in a moment of time. For that moment, everything stands on the precipice. It doesn't last. The first crack in the ice has been sounded and there is nothing left that can stop the avalanche. "You forget yourself, Ms. Marina. You have a job to do and it is [i]back [/i]in that hanger." hisses Isabelle, jabbing a finger back up the corridor. "And, so help me, If I see or hear from you again before Emberlight is repaired I will [i]fire [/i]you and you can go back to fiddling with your drones and whatever resources you can scrounge together from under the corner couch!" For days afterwards, she would not be able to banish the look of shock and hurt on the engineer's face. Spinning on her heel, Isabelle resumed walking. She didn't look back. ********************************************** The doors to her quarters hiss open, and she steps through - the twins ensure that she is not followed. Only family is allowed within. "Bellebelle …" Luca finally speaks up, but stops at Isabelle's upraised hand. "Luca … not now." she replies, not looking at him. "Just … I need to be alone." He nods, understanding. "When you're ready, we will be here." Her family, her only real family, files out. ************************************************** Isabelle's mind was still buzzing. Not with thought, nor with emotion really - in fact, she felt numb. No, it was just buzzing. Like the wings of a million bees. Flying, crawling, everywhere. On her arms, on her face, in her eyes. Their hum omnipresent and oppressive. The threat of stings, constant. Trying to think was like trying to sweep them aside, a brief glimpse of light before they'd swarm over her again. A ceaseless, droning wave. She'd hung like that, floating in the senseless artificial zero-g of her cockpit, all the way from the fight back to the hanger. That's the downside of the setup - when Emberlight is [s]dead, broken, gone[/s] offline like that, there's just … nothing to feel. She'd swiped them aside just to see the people standing around her, waiting for her words. They'd looked for a leader but what kind of leader could she be? Ada had been right, she didn't believe in this. This whole thing was a farce. Why look to her? Why wait on her? She'd pushed them away and run, plugging her ears down that corridor. Her mother would find out. She'd know what she'd said - every word recorded and relayed by some lackey. It would happen, there was no way to avoid it. She'd come, or she'd send word. Or any number of possibilities. But maybe by running she could delay it a little. Talk to the press? No! No. [i]Nonononononono[/i]. No! The cameras, the lights, the expectations … too much. She'd crack, she'd break. Jagged edges showing up in holodef, broadcast to millions. She'd crumble to dust and not be able to hide it. She has to hide it. A Lozano shows no weakness. A Lozano shows no fear. A Lozano never fails. A voice had tried to cut through the sound, but the buzzing just wouldn't stop. Too many questions. Too many emotions. Too much [b]feeling[/b]. Her hand, her heart. Cut it out, make it stop. Make it go away. She'd hurt Asil. Can't get close, they only get hurt. She only hurts them. It was wrong. She'd punish herself for it later. She already had, in a way. She'd do it anyway. It was on the List. She'd closed the door after her siblings, activating the seals. Muting the alerts. Cutting off everything outside and letting their wings be the only source of sound. That was okay, that was normal. She deserved it. She knelt in the room and counted backwards from ten. Then, finally, she allowed herself to cry. ******************************************************* It was three hours later that she stood up from the floor again. An hour after that before she'd finished the glass of water she poured herself. Two hours later to summon the energy to wash her face. That night, she didn't eat. That was normal. ****************************************************** The next morning, things felt - well, not better. But at least more distant. She'd synthed herself a basic meal of toast and water. And pulled out a folder that had been on her mind all last night. Ada's name was still stamped along the top, inside was the intel gathered for her. [i]Why didn't it mention her family?[/i] She sat down to read. Later, still alone, she'd go for a walk.