Honor thy father

It was a strange experience, being a spectator behind her own eyes. Although her father was focusing her eyes on the beach and the waves, she could choose to pay attention to anything in her peripheral vision. It was just a little less defined.

Chloe was only barely paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth. They were only half true anyway. She knew why he did what he did, and it shouldn't have surprised her so much that he could control her so utterly. Being terrified of what her father could do to her was not a new experience. She was mad, but not at her father, specifically. She was mad at her circumstances, at her uselessness, at the likelihood that her girlfriend was soon to die. She was mad at herself for not recognizing how little she could do to prevent this. She was mad at everything, and she was mad at nothing, and this was all just starting to collapse in on itself and turn into grief.

She saw someone standing on a rooftop - or she thought she did, in her peripheral vision. The person looked short, and Chloe could have sworn she saw green hair.

She got her arm back and started rolling down the window, then managed to push her head out of the window. She couldn't control her eyes, but she could turn her neck so her face was pointed directly at the rooftop. Her mouth started to form the first syllable.

"Ch-"

She wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs.

It wasn't Cheeto.

Chloe found herself wondering if the stewardess had any idea what the fuck was going on with her. She barely understood it herself.

In any case, it took a giant wave washing over the beach for Chloe to start accepting that she hadn't saved Cheeto. It was too late to change anything. The possession was unnecessary overkill at this point - she had already submitted to her father's will. She had given up, and now she was just going to save her own skin. She could at least do that much.

It's probably what Cheeto would have wanted. As much as it pained her to think that way.

She managed to wrest control of her own voice for a few seconds. It was easier when she focused all her efforts on getting control of a small number of things at a time. "I'm done trying to run, but at least let me walk up the stairs into the jet. My legs are tricky."

It had taken Chloe months to learn how to walk with these legs without falling all the time. She had a lot of muscle memory to un-learn. She didn't trust her dad to prevent her from tumbling backwards down the whole staircase. Her dad hadn't had those months of falling down and picking himself up again.

Chloe noticed the stewardess giving her a funny look. Yeah, she was definitely confused about this whole situation. Imagine being in my position, she wanted to tell her.

Once her father relinquished control, Chloe spent just a little bit too long standing outside the car and staring at the approaching wave. She didn't hear anything about Dorito - she was lost in her thoughts, trying to imagine a way that Cheeto could survive this, trying to stave off mourning.

The stewardess ordered her to get on the plane. Ordered her to. She almost expected her dad to take control again to snap at her. She didn't know her father's servants could be that assertive, but it was understandable given the circumstances.

Once Chloe had gotten on and the door closed behind them, Chloe looked into the reflective surface on the side of a drink cart and started talking to herself. "So, dad. Are you gonna be able to get your own body in a little bit, or are we just going to be body-mates for this trip?"

She didn't want to have to sit through her father talking up Klaus the whole time.

Oh. He had already left her body. Chloe spent a few moments watching him change and acknowledging this fact, then went back to looking out the window.

He started apologizing to her. She shook her head. "I get it, dad," she said in a monotone. "I'm important to you, I was doing something stupid and dangerous, and you probably saved my life. At great risk to yourself and - okay, maybe not yourself," she chuckled bitterly, "But at least to everyone on this plane."

She watched a tall building fall over. She stared at it, in quiet awe at the destructive force of the wave. Then, without warning, she slammed her fist into the wall of the plane, leaving a dent. She yelled at the top of her lungs as though that would make her feel better. It almost did. Straining against the seatbelt around her waist, she leaned against the window, touching it with her horns. Her eyes were welling up with tears again.

"FUCK!" she yelled again. She hit the wall a second time, softer this time. That's when the sobbing started.

She was helpless, once again unable to save a loved one from a force far bigger than herself.

It didn't make her feel that much better, hearing that it wasn't her fault. She let him keep running his fingers through her hair, anyway.

She kept sobbing. The plane finished its ascent, and they got to the point where the fasten seatbelt signs would have been turned off in a normal plane. She couldn't see the islands from where they were anymore. At some point, she had started sobbing into his shoulder.

She managed to calm herself down enough to talk. Looking up at her dad and wiping off her tears, she spoke.

"You've heard the rumors, right? that this tsunami isn't natural, and someone caused it?" She would only give him time to nod or shake his head. "Well, if that turns out to be true, you wanna help me find them and fuck them up?"

It would be a good father/daughter bonding experience. Probably.