The Underground

Chapter 21 - Tempers Rising

Author's note:  Well this took too long. Sorry guys! But 13 pages is worth it, right? *Hides in procrastinating shame*

"Elizabeth! Get the door, will you sweetie?" The voice drifted from somewhere upstairs.

"Yes Aunt Queenie." Elizabeth got up from her spot on the floor and walked down the hall. Her eyes drifted over the freshly painted walls and the new baseboards and a feeling of pride flowed through her. She got to the front door and opened it wide. She started a little when she saw who was outside, but recovered instantly. "Hi Thomas, Hi Claire."

"Hello Elizabeth." Claire smiled warmly and stepped inside out of the rain. "I'm glad your family could have me."

Thomas came inside and bent down to give Elizabeth a one armed hug. "Hey Lizzy." He greeted. "Tell Mom I brought a salad for her." He gave her the wooden bowl in his other hand and gently pushed her down the hall.

"And tell her that he actually bought fresh lettuce this time." Claire teased as she took off her coat and hung it up.

"Will do!" Elizabeth called back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thomas tossing a glove at Claire, who was laughing. She made her way into the kitchen, where Uncle Jacob was peeling potatoes, and her youngest cousin Samantha (or Sam, as she preferred to be called) who was pouring hot water from the kettle to the teapot with a practiced hand. "Uncle Jacob." She said. "Thomas and Claire are here!"

"Good, right on time." He took the salad bowl from her with a smile. "Ask them to help with supper, please, if you can, and then go find Isaac. He's supposed to be setting the table, but I have a feeling that he's shirking." He winked at Elizabeth, then went back to peeling the potatoes.

Elizabeth jogged out of the kitchen and down the hall, back to where Thomas and Claire were picking up the gloves scattered on the floor. "Uncle Jacob says to help with supper Thomas, and Claire, you can also help if you want."

"I will." Claire laughed. She passed Elizabeth and walked into the kitchen. As she went, Elizabeth noticed her socks were mis-matched, one green, and one blue. Elizabeth looked back at Thomas and smirked. He grinned back at her then turned towards the kitchen, following the smell of freshly baked bread. Elizabeth stood in the sudden quiet of the hall and listened to the silence. It was odd, that only a short time before she had stood here and the silence had seemed to squeeze her between two invisible sheets of despair. She had not felt it at the time, but a great pressure had settled on her, and a thorn lay upon her heart. She took a deep breath and held it, her lungs still oddly constricted, even though it had been weeks since the pain of the thorn had been lifted. She placed a hand on her stomach and tried to relieve the pressure, but to no avail. Instead of helping, the motion caused her more discomfort. Suddenly, she was startled by a hand touching her shoulder gently.

"Elizabeth, sweetie?" Her aunt's gentle voice was soothing to her, and she took a deep breath as she turned around. "Do you need something?"

"No, Aunt Queenie... Just a feeling."

"I understand your pain." Always, her aunt knew the problem before she could state it, and it would have been annoying had it not been just what she needed.

"How?" Elizabeth asked.

"When Teen- your mother - died, I felt the same. Like something sharp and cold was pressing into me, and nothing I did could get rid of it. Even chocolate, even though that seemed to help. It faded with time, but it's still there. Still pressing when I don't expect it, but it ain't hurting anymore." She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth and drew her close. They were no longer the same height now, with Elizabeth's head just a few inches above her aunt's. She was tall, like her father, and it seemed to remind her aunt of something, for her eyes changed, misting over slightly with memory. "Newt had the same pain as us, though more of it, and stronger, even when I first met him. I tried to read him, but his mind was closed to me. He hid himself from me. I tried to make a joke of it, 'said it was the accent that made him hard to read, but I knew, even then." Her eyes were sad as she let Elizabeth go, but Elizabeth hung on for one more hug. "It's very hard on yourself when you hide your memories from others. Bottling them up like that. It hurts you inside, and it stays with you. If you find yourself doing that, come talk to me. Talking will help."