Nutritional Values (pt 2)

Posted on Sat Jan 11th, 2025 @ 13:05 by Valjean Beaumont

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Kitchen, Avalon Institute
Timeline: February 1st, 1993 (immediately following Vagabond at the Buffet)
1513 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure

Previously in 'Vagabond at the Buffet'

Rescued. The word lingered uneasily in her mind, a puzzle she couldn’t piece together. Had she escaped, or had someone let her go? The answers danced just out of reach, replaced by flashes of running through the cold and collapsing in the wilderness. “Yes, eggs are fine. Thank you.” She let Andrew take the lead, keeping close by and eyes down.

There was a moment of hesitation in the eyes of the Chef, it cascaded across the other two instances of him. He had seen the behaviour before. It wasn't that of a soldier returning from war. It wasn't that of a drifter finding a place to call home. It was the look in the eyes of a prisoner that had been put in solitary confinement for much longer than was reasonable. His expression softened, this too cascaded to the others. "I have a chef's table in the kitchen. You can have your meal there." he spoke softly, measured, even making an effort to diminish his thick French accent.

And now, the continuation...

Andrew involuntarily shivered as Jackie's fingers touched his side, he knew how close she was standing to him, the shiver was just a result of the surprise of feeling Jackie's fingers. He was already noticing that there was a growing level of trust that Jackie felt towards him, plus she had confiding some about her fiancé that she was searching for. He wasn't sure how much he would be able to help, however he would do what he could to help her.

He knew that the healing would take time for Jackie, with luck once he brought her to Claire, she would find a new place and safety as well. Andrew hadn't needed anything when a job at the institute was offered, what it did do was offer him a second chance at a new chance at life.

Andrew looked back to Valjean and offered an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Valjean, the quieter location might help Jackie feel more comfortable in this new location with multitudes of new people."

The gathered Valjeans looked a bit incredulously at Andrew. "This is why I offered, non." The three shool their heads in unison and then one of them pointed in the direction of the kitchen's staff entrance before walking back there himself to explain the situation to the prime Valjean, who would otherwise surely have a bit of a fit for someone other than Claire walking into his kitchen during morning rush.

The conversation between the two Valjeans was swift and in French, after which the Valjean that had worked the counter quickly returned to his duties. The Prime Valjean, only distinguished by wearing a chef's hat where the others had no such head covering, stepped up to the chef's table as his two guests arrived.

Jackie felt the shiver under her touch, a visceral reminder of how much she’d already asked of Andrew; and it stung. Her grip slackened as she withdrew her hand, tucking it close to her body in a futile attempt to erase the moment. The warmth of his skin lingered on her fingertips, as did the haunting shame of having reached for it in the first place. Memories flickered at the edge of her mind, of James’s touch, faint and distant, in the darkness of that winter night.

She was beginning to think she’d asked for the impossible, too much of anyone. These people didn’t know her, nor did they owe her anything. Yet all she’d been met with was kindness: from Alistair, from Andrew, and now from Valjean. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as her gaze fell to the floor. Following Valjean into the quieter kitchen, she couldn’t shake the subtle pity in his eyes. It burned nonetheless, like a spotlight illuminating everything she’d lost. Even the gentleness in his tone didn’t soothe her; it only underscored how far she’d fallen.

Sliding into the seat at the chef’s table without protest, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The oversized sweatshirt swallowed her frame, and she pressed into its fabric as though it could shield her from their glances, from the world, or perhaps from herself. Her hands, tucked away, hid the tips of thorns that now trailed faintly along her neck, partially obscured by the mats of her hair.

The man wearing the chef’s hat, it dawned on her that this was their leader, approached with an ease that only made her feel smaller. Jackie forced herself to glance up, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment before her eyes dropped again.

“Sorry,” she said softly, her voice cracking as she fought against the knot in her throat. “I don’t mean to cause a fuss.” She risked a glance at Andrew, her hands twisting the hem of the sweatshirt. “It’s just... a lot.”

"Oui," Valjean nodded putting a glass of water next to her. "Places such as these can be, especially when it's been a while to have been in crowds." He didn't seem to register Andrew much, tolerating his presence at it seemed to ground the newcomer, but definitely not planning on making it a habit to have the man sit at this table often. "Anything else I can get you?"

The PE teacher blinked when she pulled her hand away from his side, his shiver hadn't been anything more than surprise at the sensation of the touch. Most people were careful around a combat veteran, they tended to give them space. It was a nice change with Jackie, he knew part of it was because she trusted him. Andrew would have to tell her why he shivered later.

"Thank you, Mr. Beaumont." He took the open seat across from Jackie. He knew that Valjean wasn't offering the table to him, nor had he been expecting it, Andrew knew he was here because he made Jackie feel more comfortable. He would let Jackie speak at least unless she looked to him to answer. He did reach out to place his fingertips on the sweatshirt covered elbow of Jackie to let her know it was okay. The sprouting thorns didn't stop him as her comfort and safety was more important to him at this time. As a former instructor in Combat at his Royal Military Police would say 'Pain is life and life is pain.'

The conversation from the gym had evoked a grand meal with all the trimmings, but now, faced with the choice, Jackie hesitated. “I really don’t need much.” She looked up at Valjean Prime, a faint, appreciative smile creeping to her lips. “Just some toast and tea, if you have some? I won’t say no to eggs.” The privacy of the doors dulled the overwhelming sounds of the canteen, the prickles of defense slowly retracting.

Her eyes shifted down to the table as she exhaled slowly, her fingers retreating into the oversized cuffs of her sweatshirt. She found the loose thread again, the tiny fraying detail catching her attention. Twisting it between her fingers brought a dull, familiar pain, a whisper compared to the agony she’d endured in captivity. A reminder she was still here, alive, and far from the breaking point she’d fought for so long.

Jackie’s breath silently caught in the back of her throat as she felt Andrew return her gesture. The doubts she had about overstepping personal boundaries with a man she’d just met this morning swirled in her mind. He owed her nothing but had so far made her feel more like a person than she had in years. Instinct told her to meet the touch, but hesitation itched, her hand brushing the inside of her elbow but not enough to make contact.

With the gesture came a memory, bittersweet. A steady presence in her storm, protective and unyielding when she’d thought herself beyond saving. Andrew’s touch reminded her of that, stirring the ache of all she’d lost. But it wasn’t just a memory. This was now, here. It didn’t erase the looming shadows, but it dulled their edges.

Even Jackie knew the silence felt awkward and sterile. There was a tightness in her chest before she spoke again. “I don’t think I’ve seen so many people with abilities in one place before… together.” She clarified, not knowing how many others she’d been around in truth.

Valjean had quietly retreated back to his work behind the kitchen counter. The two had already gotten food from the other Valjeans as they stood in front of the counter, so all of them now just left them to their own devices at the Chef's table. The breakfast rush was dying down, but none of them would get a great deal of rest before lunch was expected to be served.

To be concluded...