???: Ms. Noire?
???: Vitals are stabilizing. We should begin immediate ...
???: I'm sorry, but the patient is still unconscious. She can't answer your questions right now.
Blue 1982
The instant Noire opens her eyes, agony ripples through her body, fracturing into a haze of static that clears to reveal a sterile blue hospital.
But her own suffering is not what first comes to mind.
Noire: What's the progress on the film?
Her assistant springs to attention the moment she hears Noire's voice, like a puppet pulled up on a string.
Lin: Y-you're awake.
Her last recollection is vivid—the glare of harsh light, a feeling of weightlessness, the crushing impact, and the sound of shattering glass—pain and panic creeping in.
Noire: What's the progress on the film?
The flow of her breath carries the words out of her mouth weakly. Still muddied by her scattered, dreamlike stupor. The urgency of it overcoming all obstacles.
Lin: The film is on hold for now. Everyone was too exhausted to go on, so I suggested they go home and rest.
Noire: sigh
Lin: The writing team's still brainstorming the big climax. They need more time to get it down.
It was precisely the climactic moments of her latest film, Shadow Spy, that were failing to meet both her investors' and her own expectations. The crew had been running on overdrive for months, striving to produce a cut that could satisfy both parties.
Lin: Your first priority should be resting up.
Noire: I need to get home.
Her studio there was more than just a workspace for Noire. It was where her thoughts came into alignment, where so many scripts had been given life.
Lin: Considering your current state, I think staying here will be the wisest choice.
Not one to repeat herself, Noire tries to sit up, but her body doesn't move with her.
Pain. It shoots through her spine, burrowing into her brain. It spreads to her arms, as if biting through the marrow of her bones, until it stops.
Noire: ...
A flash of pity passes across her assistant's face.
Noire: Hmm?
Her legs don't hurt at all.
They're still there, limply splayed out under her hospital gown, yet Noire cannot spur them to move.
Noire: ...?
Lin is sitting at the edge of her bed. She seems to wordlessly offer a thousand apologies, but it isn't her fault.
Lin: You don't remember, do you? The car accident after leaving the set? You suffered severe nerve damage.
Lin quickly follows up with another statement, trying to soften the blow.
Lin: But the doctors think there might be a chance you can recover.
Noire: Did they find the whoever did this to me?
She falls back into the bed, allowing her head to sink fully into the hospital pillow.
Lin: The police came by while you were out. The doctor said they'd notify them when you woke up.
Noire: How long do I need to be here?
Lin: They said you'll have to go through some rehabilitation. I don't know how long. The doctor wanted to wait until you were awake.
Noire lifts her chin, attempting a nod.
Noire: What about the script? It was in the car with me.
Lin: What's left of your car will be in the impound lot. Everything inside it is probably going to be evidence.
Lin: But, I printed a fresh copy for you! Let me know if it looks okay. I've also attached some new outlines from the writers for you to think over.
Noire: Thank you.
She takes the script and presses the button on her morphine injector before leafing through the pages.
Noire: I'd like to be alone now.
Lin holds a look at her employer for a brief moment.
Lin: Alright. Get some rest.
Lin: panting
Once the door is shut, Lin leans against the hallway corridor, breathing as if she had just avoided her own near-death experience.
Before she can compose herself, she notices that her colleagues have arranged themselves nearby.
Photographer: So, Her Highness has finally awakened?
Lin: Yeah.
Alisa: How did she take the news?
Lin: She seems ... calm.
Photographer: Of course, she'd never let herself break down in front of you. Meanwhile, we're one all-nighter away from a meltdown!
Alisa: After all that she's put us through, doesn't it kind of make you believe in karma?
Photographer: What do you think? Was it someone on the crew behind the wheel of that other car? Place your bets.
Lin: It doesn't matter how it happened. At least, we'll finally get a little break.
Alisa: Maybe not so little. Do you think the film can survive this?
As the realization jumps from person to person, all eyes turn to Lin.
Alisa: Lin, you know that company we asked you to look into. Have you heard anything back from them?
Lin: Yeah, but the pay definitely won't be higher than what we're getting now. Can you handle that?
Photographer: Honestly, I think we're trading years off our lives for this paycheck!
Alisa: I'm not sure. As much hell as this job can be, at least it pays the bills.
Each coworker vents their own particular grievances, fading out from the griping. Lin steals a glance through the narrow hospital window.
Noire has propped herself up against her pillow, absentmindedly biting down on an empty ballpoint pen while sketching storyboards onto the script using the exposed ink cartridge.
She hasn't even bothered to pull the blanket over her legs.
Lin: Alright.
The guilt creeps in, no matter how bad things could get, complaining about someone at a time like this ...
Lin: Everyone should head home and get some rest.
Alisa: Sticking around for our diva, huh? I don't envy you, Lin.
Photographer: Alright, we'll be off then.
Lin: Bye.
Their farewell is light and casual. Their voices distort as they disappear down the busy hallway.
Noire: The door's not soundproof.
Noire: They're just employees to me. I don't care what they say or think, so long as they follow my directions.
Noire: And they don't impede my vision.
Noire: But I can't let this reach a point where it interferes with my work.
Lin: Ms. Noire, the nurse just came by with some news.
Noire: Oh ...
Having dealt with some paperwork, Lin returns to the ward to find Noire sitting up in bed with a vacant expression.
Her legs are dangling off the side of the bed, and her gown is damply sticking to her legs.
Lin: What happened?
Lin rushes over.
Noire: I could use some more water.
She notices a thermos on the ground by the bed, steam rising from the open top.
Lin: Hot water?
She hurriedly frees up her hands to grab the thermos, only to realize that Noire's feet are dripping scalding water onto the floor.
The heat has turned the skin on her feet bright red.
Yet her face is blank and emotionless.
Lin: Does it hurt?
She knows the answer, but looking at the burns running down her leg, she can't help but feel the pain for her.
Noire: I didn't feel a thing.
It was as if the burned skin had nothing to do with her at all.
Lin hesitates, her hand slackening, and Noire's legs slide roughly back into the bed.
Lin: Oh, sorry.
Noire: What is it?
Lin: Sorry. My hand slipped.
Noire: That's not what I'm asking about.
Noire looks at Lin like she would a reel of film.
Noire: Did you have something to do with the crash?
Lin: No.
Noire: Then why do you have so much guilt in your eyes?
Lin: B-Because ...
Lin opens her mouth, but the words catch in her throat, and she avoids answering the question.
Lin: I apologize. I didn't mean anything by it.
This is how it's always been. Once she promises to change, Noire stops challenging her.
Noire: I'm not reprimanding you. I just want to know—why do you keep looking at me like that?
There's no anger in her voice at all. Even now, with her legs burned, and the water on the floor silently spreading beneath the bed.
Lin: Because ... I ...
Lin can't bring herself to look her in the eye, but she knows Noire will not give up without an answer.
Lin: I sympathize with you.
Noire: Ah, sympathy ...
The word hangs over her head, like a thought just out of reach.
Lin: Sorry.
Noire: No need to apologize. Sympathy ... I guess I was right after all.
Noire picks up the script and writes the word on the final blank page.
Noire: Sympathy
She says it again, scoffing this time.
Noire: Perhaps that's why the perfect climax has always eluded me.
Her pen draws rings around the word.
Noire: It's a natural emotion. Teresa, I'm sure, would've appreciated it, accepted it for what it is. But I won't.
Noire: But I'm filming a movie—something for the masses. I need that kind of resonance for the masses.
Noire: It has nothing to do with you.
She looks up at Lin.
Noire: No need to sympathize with me. This accident, it's no big deal, because it won't stop me from making my films.
Noire: I won't see this as some kind of setback, as long as it doesn't get in the way of filming.
The conviction in her words begins to turn Lin's sympathy into something else. Lin is almost ashamed to have felt sorry for her.
Lin: Okay.
She nods. It isn't her place to set her limits. Not now.
Noire: So, what were you saying?
Lin: Oh!
Lin looks down at her now-empty hands and begins searching the room, spotting the accident report resting half-soaked by the dissipating patches of water.
It must have slid off the table and onto the floor during the commotion.
The words have already blurred on the waterlogged pages as Lin yanks it from the floor.
Lin: It's your accident report. I thought you might want to read it.
Noire takes the damp stack, flipping straight to the conclusion.
Noire: I ran a red light, did I ...?
Noire's brow tightens.
Noire: No, it was green lights all the way. I'm sure of that.
She turns to the window, catching sunlight reflecting from the trees.
