beccaelizabeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beccaelizabeth) wrote2012-01-01 12:10 am
beccaelizabeth) wrote2012-01-01 12:10 am
Entry tags:
Original Fic: Beginnings (Prologue)
Rachel stumbled through the door, unbalanced by the unexpected opening. Behind her laughter squealed.
"First foot with style, girl!"
"Start as you mean to go on!"
"Oh, sod off," she waved them off, unused keys jangling. Then she shook her head. "Happy New Year!"
"Happy New Year!" They chorused back raggedly, laughing, then the designated driver tried to herd them onwards. "Come on, I'm parked by the fire station."
Rachel shut the door before someone made some pun about smoking hotness. She slumped back against it and rubbed her face. "Happy bloody New Year." She sighed.
She ran her hand over the ledge from habit, however unlikely postal delivery was in the hours since she left for the pub, then kept her hand on it as she walked with careful precision to the stairs. Then the handrail took over the duty. Deciding slow was better than stumbling, she placed each foot precisely. Up just the one flight, then getting the right keys, frowning, third try. She grinned triumphantly when the door clicked open, stepped in smartly, and promptly slipped off her spike heels. She caught herself on the phone table and swore, then yanked the offending article off and kicked the door closed. Turning to get her other shoe she saw the message light blinking. She poked play, then slung her shoes under the bench and headed to the kitchen.
"Rachel? You there? Rach?" A man asked. Pause, and then, "Listen, were we meeting at the King's Head or the Cock?" Another awkward pause. Rachel came back in chugging a bottle of water. "I'll text you, then." She rolled her eyes and pulled her handbag off. Somewhere in the depths her mobile lurked. She pawed through one handed as the answer phone beeped and moved on.
"Happy New Year!" Women's voices chorused. They laughed, and pub noise filled the tape. Rachel poked the box and the next message played instead.
At least, it hissed, and thought it played. Rachel was about to hit delete when a voice croaked out. "Rach? Are you there?" Shaky and breathy, the voice was barely audible. "Is anybody there... hah." The voice halfed laughed, then grunted. "Oh, fuck. Rachel, listen. Please, don't hang up this time," she asked, but Rach was already reaching for the buttons. "Please, it's not for me. I swear, I swear, this time. I need you..." A gasp, but Rachel stabbed the next button hard.
"Rachel? Craig. Just calling to say Happy..."
"Next, next, NEXT," Rachel muttered, matching button to words. "Not ex. New year! New me!"
"No more messages. To delete all messages, press delete."
The red numbers counted down, and she held her finger over the delete... then let it go, and put the lid back on the water.
She turned away, pushed through to the bedroom, then closed the door on the lot of it.
The message light blinked behind her.
"First foot with style, girl!"
"Start as you mean to go on!"
"Oh, sod off," she waved them off, unused keys jangling. Then she shook her head. "Happy New Year!"
"Happy New Year!" They chorused back raggedly, laughing, then the designated driver tried to herd them onwards. "Come on, I'm parked by the fire station."
Rachel shut the door before someone made some pun about smoking hotness. She slumped back against it and rubbed her face. "Happy bloody New Year." She sighed.
She ran her hand over the ledge from habit, however unlikely postal delivery was in the hours since she left for the pub, then kept her hand on it as she walked with careful precision to the stairs. Then the handrail took over the duty. Deciding slow was better than stumbling, she placed each foot precisely. Up just the one flight, then getting the right keys, frowning, third try. She grinned triumphantly when the door clicked open, stepped in smartly, and promptly slipped off her spike heels. She caught herself on the phone table and swore, then yanked the offending article off and kicked the door closed. Turning to get her other shoe she saw the message light blinking. She poked play, then slung her shoes under the bench and headed to the kitchen.
"Rachel? You there? Rach?" A man asked. Pause, and then, "Listen, were we meeting at the King's Head or the Cock?" Another awkward pause. Rachel came back in chugging a bottle of water. "I'll text you, then." She rolled her eyes and pulled her handbag off. Somewhere in the depths her mobile lurked. She pawed through one handed as the answer phone beeped and moved on.
"Happy New Year!" Women's voices chorused. They laughed, and pub noise filled the tape. Rachel poked the box and the next message played instead.
At least, it hissed, and thought it played. Rachel was about to hit delete when a voice croaked out. "Rach? Are you there?" Shaky and breathy, the voice was barely audible. "Is anybody there... hah." The voice halfed laughed, then grunted. "Oh, fuck. Rachel, listen. Please, don't hang up this time," she asked, but Rach was already reaching for the buttons. "Please, it's not for me. I swear, I swear, this time. I need you..." A gasp, but Rachel stabbed the next button hard.
"Rachel? Craig. Just calling to say Happy..."
"Next, next, NEXT," Rachel muttered, matching button to words. "Not ex. New year! New me!"
"No more messages. To delete all messages, press delete."
The red numbers counted down, and she held her finger over the delete... then let it go, and put the lid back on the water.
She turned away, pushed through to the bedroom, then closed the door on the lot of it.
The message light blinked behind her.