Work Text:
Musichetta sat on the couch, nervously biting her nails. It was a habit she had tried to break, but had never been able to. The news program on her television mumbled along in the background as she stared into space, watching anxiously. Finally the news program flashed to what she was waiting for and she wished it hadn’t. She wasn’t prepared for the sight of the rebellion and the fighting against it. She wasn’t prepared to see the police and military forces who were supposed to be protecting the people attacking those she knew and loved. The students protesting were her friends in passing. But her two boys were closer. Joly and Bossuet were both at the protest with their friends. When Chetta caught a glimpse of the familiar profile of one of her boys, her hand jumped to her mouth. Joly’s face was streaked with blood, his hair matted down against his head. He had his arm around one of his friends, pulling them along to what would hopefully be safety. The cameras cut to another part of the scene and Chetta had to bury her face in her hands. It looked as if Bossuet was trying to reason with the officer who was standing in front of him when the officer used his club to hit Bossuet over the head, knocking him to the ground. Chetta turned the television off, unable to watch any more. She couldn’t see her boys abused and attacked any longer. She fought the urge to pull out her cell phone and call them both, but knew that they needed to be focused on what was going on around them. They didn’t need the distraction of her calling them, even if she was worried.so instead of calling the two people she most wanted to talk to, she called her job to see if she could pick up an extra shift, to try and distract herself.
When she arrived at work, her boss knew something was wrong, and all she had to say was the two names of her loves. Both Joly and Bossuet had spent enough time visiting her at work that everyone knew and loved them. She slowly walked over to the television that normally played the news programming, and turned it off, biting her lip as she went about setting up to work, anxiously waiting for her phone to ring from her boys. Throughout her day, she got two wrong numbers and one telemarketer, but no calls from her boys. She helped close up and walked back home, taking the long way, just to avoid the possibility of an empty apartment. She worried about what was going on with her boys and if they were alright and where they were. She just wanted some news, yet at the same time, she dreaded the news. She heated up some leftovers for a late dinner and curled up on the couch, pulling her legs up against her chest. She didn’t feel like eating, but she knew she would need to, so she slowly forced herself to swallow the food past the lump in her throat. The dread stretched out before her with the uncertainty of not knowing the whereabouts and safety of her two loves, and she slipped into the bathroom and took a mild sleeping pill, curling up into the bed with all the pillows pilled around her, but still not able to fall asleep until several hours later.
Chetta was jolted awake by the sound of a loud knocking on the door to the apartment. She jumped up from the bed and rushed to the door, hurriedly undoing the locks and throwing it open, only to have the relieved smile drop from her face. A somber looking officer was standing in front of her door. ”Is this the residence of a M. Joly and M. Lesgle?” Chetta bit her lower lip and nodded cautiously. ”Yes, how may I help you, officer?” The officer nodded slightly before taking a breath. ”We have reason to believe that the two young men took part in the rebellion yesterday. We were hoping to have someone identify the bodies.” Chetta’s mind blanked. Bodies. That meant only one thing. ”B-bodies? Does that-” her voice cracked and the officer merely nodded. She slumped to the floor, drowning the sobs in her hands. The officer merely stood there looking disinterested. ”If you would like to accompany me, ma’am?” Chetta slowly stood, wiping her face. ”Let me get dressed. Just a moment, please.” She closed the door, leaning against the cool wood and letting the reality wash over her again before straightening back up and going to pull out a pair of jeans and shirt, dressing mechanically without thought. Her world was ending, why should she care what she looked like.